Prologue

June 1812 – Longbourn

Elizabeth Bennet almost felt inclined to burst into a run to express the pleasure the letter from her Aunt Gardiner was providing. They were going to tour The Lakes after all! Her uncle's business problem has been resolved satisfactorily and they were free to devote six weeks to the tour. Her aunt had even enclosed a copy of William Wordsworth's Guide to The Lakes which her uncle had recently acquired. Their tour could not fail to be pleasant and entertaining given the company and the places they would visit.

Reaching the top of Oakham Mount, Elizabeth took off her bonnet, loosen her pelisse, stretched her arms upward and gradually letting them fall back down. Sitting on the log that was her usual resting spot, she extracted from her pocket the apple grabbed on the way out the door and gazed out over the distant buildings of Longbourn and Netherfield. Slowly munching the apple, savouring its tart taste, she gradually drifted her thoughts to those which had predominated for the last three months, or since the Day - the day she rejected Mr. Darcy's proposal of marriage.

Could a proposal of marriage been more disastrously given or received? Fitzwilliam Darcy, despite expressing an ardent love for her, had managed to insult her, her family's behaviour, her poor connections – her uncles in trade obviously figured prominently in his thoughts – and finally the inferiority of her social status compared to his own. A degradation he had called it. Granted he stated that he was prepared to overlook such impediments but, under the circumstances, she had not been prepared to ignore the insults. When she considered the arrogance of his behaviour from the very beginning of their acquaintance in Meryton and culminating in the absolute assurance he displayed that his offer of marriage would be accepted, she could not regret her rejection of it.

Nonetheless, her mode of rejection now left her embarrassed and mortified. She had accused him of maliciously separating her beloved sister, Jane, from Mr. Bingley and then accused him of dishonourable behaviour by depriving Mr. Wickham of a valuable living. Her dislike of Mr. Darcy, created in their very first meeting, had lead her to place full confidence in MR. Wickham's worthiness based on his amiable and pleasing character. The letter, that Mr. Darcy handed her the day following his proposal, exonerated Mr. Darcy completely in his dealings with Mr. Wickham and showed her confidence and judgement to have been sadly misplaced. Wickham had, in fact, been compensated by £3,000 in lieu of the living, despite which he subsequently petitioned again for it. When such petitions were denied, his subsequent actions last summer were deplorable. His attempt to convince Georgiana Darcy to elope would both hurt Mr. Darcy by ruining his sister and given him access to her £30,000 dowry. Tragedy was avoided only by the unexpected appearance of her brother the day before the elopement was to take place. Georgiana was loath to disappoint him and revealed Wickham's plan. Wickham, of course, disappeared, only resurfacing when he joined the militia regiment in winter quarters in Meryton.

When Elizabeth considered her early relationship with Wickham, she could rejoice for once in the paucity of her dowry. If she had had a £10,000 dowry like Mary King, she was sure that Wickham would have courted her quite assiduously. His amiability was such that she might well have developed an attachment to him. Mary King had an uncle who apparently looked into Mr. Wickham's situation. Perhaps he had heard some rumours of debts owed to local merchants or perhaps he was simply concerned about Wickham's limited income and prospects. Whatever the case, he had quickly removed Miss King and prevented the establishment of any attachment. Would her father have bestirred himself enough to do likewise? Elizabeth would like to think so but was far from confident of such a result.

Elizabeth rose to her feet, tossed the apple core away and with a rather sharp laugh, she spoke aloud the thought she could never express in her home. "Perhaps I would be as fortunate as Mary King and be rescued by my uncle. I count his help more likely than that of my father although I could wish otherwise." Looking out over Longbourn she could now see people moving around the house. It was time to return. Breakfast was being made ready and her family would begin to trickle down to eat. Swinging her bonnet in her left hand she began the descent of Oakham Mount.

Her steps slowed as her thoughts drifted once again to Jane. Darcy's letter had also attempted to explain and justify his actions in advising his friend, Charles Bingley, against offering for her sister. Darcy had concluded, after observing Jane's behaviour with Bingley, that her countenance did not showed a marked affection for him. Darcy believed that Jane would accept an offer of marriage because her mother would require her to do so. While questions about the propriety of certain members of the Bennet and the poor connections were raised by Darcy and by Bingley's sisters, it was Darcy's belief that Jane's heart had not been touched which convinced Bingley to break off his attentions.

Elizabeth had only gradually reconciled her knowledge of the depth of Jane's attachment with a recognition that Jane's determination to exhibit a serene countenance and to guard her heart could easily be interpreted as a lack of affection by someone not of her intimate acquaintance. As time had passed, she also began to reconsider her perception of Bingley's role. At first, she had absolved him of all blame. His very amiability was one of his most attractive features. Unfortunately, it also seemed to mask, a lack of resolve. His friend had made an offer of marriage to her, despite all the perceived impediments. Of course, Darcy also thought her to be expecting his offer. Elizabeth snorted. That was certainly proof that Darcy's ability to read a female countenance and heart was sadly deficient. Nevertheless, if she was prepared to pardon Bingley for his lack of resolve - and she was - then she also had to absolve Darcy of being malicious. He had made a mistake and one many would have made.

She knew with some certainty that she was unlikely to encounter Darcy again and he assuredly would not be renewing his offers to her. No honourable man would put himself in the position of being rejected again. She knew not what to do for Jane; there was, in fact, nothing she could do and it would be best to put the matter aside for now. There was a trip to The Lakes to enjoy. With a lighter heart, she put on her bonnet and prepared to rejoin her family.

Fitzwilliam Darcy sat alone in his study in his London home. He believed himself to have regained his equanimity, or at least a semblance of it, after the tumult of those weeks following his return to London from Kent. It had taken more than a few sharp words from his cousin Richard Fitzwilliam to remove him from seclusion and despondency. Georgiana's distress at his behaviour forced him out of his room and to assume a demeanour of apparent normalcy.

The need to travel to Pemberley to oversee the spring planting, had required the engagement of his mind with thoughts that did not centre on Elizabeth Bennet. In fact, he rode the entire distance from London to Pemberley, eschewing his carriage for the physical fatigue of the horseback ride. Exhausted at the end of each day, he literally collapsed into his bed. Dreams still haunted his sleep but dreams he thought he could deal with.

Once at Pemberley, he allowed himself as little time as possible for errant thoughts. The planting, visiting the tenant farms, answering business correspondence and meetings with his household and estate staff were such as to consume his waking hours. Any free time was spent riding. He managed to pass a fortnight in such fashion until it became obvious that his presence was beginning to interfere with the daily operations of Pemberley. He returned to town but, this time, by carriage.

As May turned into June, his life seemed to settle into a routine that kept the worst of his thoughts in abeyance. He visited his club, his relatives imposed on him to attend dinners, he forced himself to attend the theatre with friends several times and, in company with Georgiana, to attend several concerts. Georgiana played the pianoforte for him in the evenings when he was home but it was a bittersweet time since his thoughts would drift to memories of Elizabeth playing the pianoforte at Rosings, seeing her countenance and impertinent smile. All too often he could see her face would turn cold with anger as she spoke.

"You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner.

You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.

From the very beginning – from the very first moment, I may almost say – of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish distain for the feelings of others, were such as to form that groundwork of disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed upon to marry."

Several times Georgiana had noticed his discomposure. Her efforts to engage him in conversation designed to probe its cause had so far proven unsuccessful. It is rare for a man of seven and twenty to talk about deeply distressing and personal matters with a sister more than twelve years his junior. Darcy was not such a man. He knew his protestations that he was fine and only worried about normal business problems were not convincing, but he could not think of any other possible response. The truth was not something he could lay before a sister. He could only hope that he would eventually be able to conquer his obsession with Elizabeth Bennet although he also knew it would take time – a lot of time, if the past months were any indication.

Richard Fitzwilliam had sent a note earlier in the day to invite himself to dinner and some brandy and talk was rather unusual since Richard was generally very casual about his comings and goings. He obviously had some specific purpose in mind and wanted to ensure that Darcy would be home for the evening. Darcy's immediate concern was that Richard would have to assume active duties on the continent – perhaps Spain. He would find out soon enough. Fortunately, he appeared to have sufficient brandy for an lengthy evening with Richard.