Hi, everyone. I'm a bit nervous sharing this story. I've been a writer for years but am trying a new style and a new pen name for it.

Prologue

"And now I must ask you to end my agony. Be my mistress-"

"Yes," I said with my heart pounding in my chest.

When Darcy's lips crashed down on mine, and his arms pulled me close, I had one lone thought before giving into utter insanity.

How have I come to agree to this?

Chapter One

My last memory of everything being right in my world was before Mr. Darcy arrived in Kent. I had been visiting my friend who had married my cousin. Although I knew I would meet Darcy's aunt, I did not agree to attend out of a desire to see Darcy again. I did not! I never guessed he would arrive during my visit. When he did, I certainly had no idea he would turn my world upside down.

I should have guessed, though. That is precisely what happened with our first meeting. He arrived in my hometown to visit a friend who was a new resident. The gentlemen were the wealthiest men we had ever met, and my anxious mother had five daughters to marry off. Of course, no matchmaking was required for my eldest sister Jane and Darcy's friend, Bingley, to fall in love. However, Bingley's sister and Darcy scorned our relative poverty, and although Bingley planned to return after a journey to London, he's now been absent for four months.

As for Darcy's actions toward me, they are even more reprehensible. Within my hearing, he denied I was pretty and flatly said I was not worthy enough to dance with him. Unsurprisingly, I later heard he denied a valuable living to the man he grew up without of jealousy and spite. Although Mr. Wickham was old Mr. Darcy's godson, he was the son of a steward and Darcy could not support raising him up. Suffice to say I did not mourn the loss of his company the way my sister mourned the loss of his friend's.

After three or four weeks in Kent with my friend, I was informed of Mr. Darcy's imminent arrival. His aunt, my cousin's patroness, appeared angry that I had already met her nephew. I bit my tongue to keep from telling her I disliked him so much that I wish I were only now meeting him. No matter, I told myself. He will be far too busy with his aunt to spend any time at the Parsonage where I stayed. Any sane person would avoid the company of Mr. Collins as much as possible.

Imagine my surprise when the morning after his arrival I was told he was walking down the lane and would be sitting with us in a moment.

"I may thank you," Charlotte had said, "for this piece of civility. Mr. Darcy never would have come so soon to wait on me."

Having no time to reply, and at a loss for a witty reply, in any case, I settled a glare at my friend. The only idea more impossible than Darcy deigning to offer his congratulations to a woman of moderate birth and with whom he had only a passing acquaintance was the image of him taking a fancy to me! Me! The woman he could not bear to dance with and who was so lacking in beauty she was slighted by other men.

Before I could catch my breath, in he came followed by Lady Catherine's other nephew and my cousin. Mr. Collins yapped compliments at their heels like an overexcited small dog. Despite Charlotte's teasing, Darcy met us with all composure, and I resolved to merely observe him. He was complicit in my sister's heartache, and I would at least make him understand that I knew his guilt.

While Darcy's cousin talked pleasantly, he said only a few words regarding the house and garden. After some time in silence, he unexpectedly turned toward me.

"Is your family in good health?" Mr. Darcy asked.

I glanced at Charlotte. Oh yes, quite the words of a lover. I would roll my eyes about it later. After answering that everyone was well, I could not help but make my point.

"My eldest sister has been in town these three months. Have you never happened to see her there?"

Surprisingly, he appeared confused. "I regret I have not had the fortune of meeting your sister there."

I had expected to see proof in his looks that he knew all about Jane being shunned by Mr. Bingley's sisters. Mr. Darcy did not look uncomfortable as though he had been found guilty of a defect. He looked as though he felt no shame. If he cared so little for the norms of Society then why was he here now? Why did he bother speaking with people at all? If he hated all his fellow creatures, then he should stay in his house. However, if he intended to congratulate himself on his superiority, he did nothing to exemplify it. His manner was not that of his friends. With Lady Catherine or Caroline Bingley one was told in as many ways as possible of their inferiority.

Suddenly, Darcy stood to leave, and his cousin followed suit. Darcy stepped forward to bow and say his goodbyes to us ladies. As he bent, I could smell his cologne. Strange. I never noticed how appealing a gentleman could smell before. Colonel Fitzwilliam repeated Darcy's gesture, and I noticed nothing pleasant about his aroma. Glancing at my cousin mopping his brow with a handkerchief and I knew better than to think he could ever smell enticing.

For the next week, we saw little of the family at Rosings and nothing of Darcy at all. Previously, Lady Catherine and her daughter visited often, and we had many invitations to dine at the house. Now, it seemed her ladyship was too busy with her nephews to care about us. I was glad of it. I hated the wealth and pomp of Lady Catherine's court. However, it could not last forever. On Easter, we were invited to Rosings for the evening. I ought to have feigned illness, but I confess, I wanted to see how Darcy would behave in the company of his aunt. His interactions with Bingley and his sisters had been most amusing and far different from his treatment of the others in my town. Would Lady Catherine demand her nephew sit in awe as she did her guests? Would he compliment her to gain her approval? Mr. Wickham had told me that Darcy was destined to marry his cousin, the heiress of Rosings. How would he treat her? If I were merely tolerable, then Miss de Bourgh was disgustingly plain. Of course, gentlemen's looks often improved with a good income. In such a case, Anne was the most ravishing female I had ever met.

Having survived what I called the Great Catherine Inquisition ranging from my education to my mother's worth, I rejoiced when her ladyship's attention focused on her nephews for much of the night. Colonel Fitzwilliam, however, could not be contained and soon spoke with me about music and books. His attention drew the notice of his aunt and cousin. Both frequently watched us, and Lady Catherine demanded to know our conversation.

Per usual, she claimed she and her daughter would have been a great proficient at pianoforte if they had ever learned. Dare I tell her she ought to have taken Anne to London for the benefit of the masters as she so recently told me? I remained silent and had to nod in approval at the way Darcy put off his aunt's questions of his sister's commitment and ability. He was adept at saying enough to satisfy her while I had delighted in tormenting the lady with sly answers.

Oh, but no visit to Rosings is complete without an insult. It has now been suggested I could practice pianoforte in the room belonging to Miss de Bourgh's governess. What an amusing story this will make when I recount it in my letter to my father. We both dearly love a laugh.

Coffee ended and Colonel Fitzwilliam insisted I play some on the pianoforte. While he listened attentively, Lady Catherine began remarking on my technique to her other nephew. Surprisingly, Darcy left his aunt and came toward the pianoforte.

"You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear me? I will not be alarmed though your sister does play so well," I said and raised my chin. "There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me."

"I shall not say you are mistaken," he replied, "because you could not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you; and I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are not your own."

I laughed to cover my confusion. He said it without a hint of sarcasm, and previously I had not thought him capable of hiding his thoughts so well. Either he had learned subterfuge, or he really did think he knew me so well. Had he called it a pleasure?

I directed my comments to his cousin as my brain scrambled to make sense of this new world where Mr. Darcy did not disapprove of me. His nearness and the scent of his cologne did me no favors. After I took him to task for not dancing at a ball in Hertfordshire, his blue eyes held my heart captive.

"Perhaps," said Darcy, "I should have judged better, had I sought an introduction; but I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers."

Not introductions. Not the plural. No, he meant only one. He had to reference me, just as much as I meant me. Was he apologizing? Even better, he was relaying regret. He did not stand upon the ceremony that he ought to have danced with anyone or that he should not have spoken so openly. No, he regretted not dancing with me earlier.

Strangely, I find that I regret it too. Perhaps everything would have been different. He would have still been Mr. Darcy of Pemberley with ten thousand a year and owner of half of Derbyshire while I was still one of five daughters to a modest estate entailed on my cousin. However, Mr. Darcy was not without his charms. He could be a pleasant conversationalist. He was intelligent and must know much about the world. I would have been better off having him as a friend these past months than having spent so much of my time in passionate dislike. And perhaps due to a friendship with me, he would not see Bingley marrying Jane as a great evil.

But bygones are bygones, and there is nothing to be done but live in the moment. Darcy attempts to explain his deficiencies in conversation, and I recommend he practice conversation with strangers. Although I criticized, he complimented me. How strange!

Nothing more could be said as Lady Catherine once more commanded the attention of all and we soon departed. Again, Darcy drew near to say goodbye, and I felt light headed at his scent. I fear I will have to see the apothecary if this continues.

Thanks for reading! End my agony and tell me what you think of it (pretty, pretty please)!