His mother had been dead giving birth to him. She was a strong woman, but not strong enough to survive the birth. His father never said that he blamed the boy for his mother's death, but he could see that his father despised him. According to his aunts, he looked just like his mother, except for his eyes, which were his father's shade.

His father, one Fitzwilliam Darcy, sent his only son away to a very prestigious academy in France when he was very young. Many of his relatives, namely his aunts, were opposed to sending him away. They blamed the rash decision on grief. They called Darcy mad for casting away his only child, but Darcy ignored their protests. His son, James Darcy, was to spend years away from home, only allowed to visit during the summer months, though he would not do so because his father was always away on business during the summer months.

James's aunts would send him gifts and treats every so often along with a letter telling him how things are doing back in England. He loved his aunts, especially Jane an Georgiana. He was not particularly fond of Lydia, but he wrote to her anyway. He knew that she was the family's black sheep because of some scandal from before his parents were even married.

When James was young, he didn't comprehend why his father was so cold towards him. He could not grasp why his own father sent him away and refused to visit him. He did not understand why he didn't have a mother like every other boy he knew had.

Now a fine, nineteen year old man, James has grown to understand his family and their odd array of problems, with some help from his aunt Kitty of course and his Grandmother, who had recently moved into the home of his aunt Jane because her dear husband died. James was made aware of the trouble his mother and father had caused and endured before they fell in love. He learned about the dreaded Mr. Collins and the scoundrel, Mr. Wickham, who is still married to his aunt Lydia, and how they were both pursuing his mother, Elizabeth Bennet. He also learned that his mother was quite attracted to Mr. Wickham, which probably infuriated his father, who already despised the man for trying to elope with Georgiana. This helped James understand why his father held such a grievance against him. His father had suffered to win Elizabeth's heart and once they were happily married, it was all taken away by his birth. Even he began to hate himself.

.

Early July. France.

Young Darcy exited the large library without looking where he was going. He was in a bit of a hurry because under his coat was a naughty novel that he found hidden behind the reference books in the farthest corner of the library. He didn't expect anyone to be so close to the doorway, so he didn't see the young woman walking by the entrance. They collided with a force that sent the young lady to the floor and Darcy to the wall beside the doorway.

"I'm sorry. I didn't see you," the young lady apologized in French as she got to her feet and brushed off her pale blue gown. She smiled warmly at him.

Then she noticed the book that had fallen out of his pocket when the two had collided. She quickly picked it up before Darcy could stop her. She read the title in her head and she quickly covered her mouth to keep herself from laughing.

Darcy snatched the book from her grasp and quickly stowed it away in hi pocket. If he was caught with a such a book, he would surely be expelled. Darcy took a second to examine the girl who could easily end his academic career. She was about his age, perhaps a little younger. She had long frizzy auburn that was being kept in a loose bun by pins and ribbon. Her eyes were a typical hazel colour. Her face was heart-shaped and her cheeks were dotted with a few small freckles. She was attractive, but there was nothing about her that Darcy found even slightly impressive.

"Don't worry, I won't tell," she assured him, "and I am sorry. I was not looking where I was going."

He did not acknowledge the apology nor did he give one of his own. Instead he straightened up and walked away from the young lady without a second glance nor thought.

Darcy turned the next corner, knowing full well that what he had just done was rude and not very gentlemanly, but he found English girls to be quite savage and seemed to have only one thing on their mind or so the stories from his aunts had lead him to believe. They were wild and so did not deserve to be treated as ladies, despite their attempt to dress up like one. Usually he would not care if the lady glared daggers into his back as he walked away, but something about this young lady struck him as odd. He did not know what it was. He had mistreated much prettier girls than she without a single care. He shook off these feelings as pity for the ugly duckling.

Darcy kept walking, but that girl was still haunting the back of his mind. He turned another corner and almost hit a young man that he recognized as Samuel Bellefleur. Samuel moved out of Darcy's way. He would have kept walking if Samuel had not tapped on his shoulder.

"Darcy, have you seen a young woman with frizzy auburn hair?" he asked exasperatedly.

Darcy glared at him. "Library," he muttered venomously.

Samuel, who was a head taller than Darcy, glared down at him, but said nothing. He walked right by Darcy without another word.

Meanwhile, the young lady stared after him in utter amazement. She had never met such a rude young man in her life. She had apologized in French so to not insult or confuse him, and yet he ignored her. Her French was not that bad. She shook her head, in a furious mood after that encounter, and continued to stroll down the wooden hallway.

She had been part of a small party, but she had been distracted by a game that a group of boys had been playing and so was separated from her family. Instead of staying in the same place, as was recommended when one was lost, she decided to attempt to locate her family herself.

"Gwen!" a familiar voice called. She turned to see her cousin, the sandy-haired Samuel, ran up to her and wrapped his arms around her small frame. "I've been looking for you! We thought that someone had snatched you when we weren't looking!"

Gwen smiled. "Sorry," she said absently.

Samuel held her at arms length. "My dear cousin you always seem to be apologizing," he began. "Now let's return you to your mother and father."

Gwen nodded. "How do you keep yourself from getting lost in this place, cousin?" she giggled.

Samuel smiled at his cousin. "I've been walking these halls for years. It would be ridiculous if I didn't know my way by now."

Gwen laughed. She had almost completely forgotten about the rude young man she had just had the displeasure of meeting. Her head was full of questions about Paris and about the wonders of the city's rich history.

Neither of them were aware of the pair of blue eyes that were watching them with interest.

.

A few weeks later. England.

Darcy entered the drawing room and bowed before his father. "Good morning father," he greeted him in as cheerful a tone as he could manage without sounding like a fraud.

His father nodded absently in response. "We are going to visit a few business associates of mine. We leave tomorrow."

James Darcy frowned. "Sir, I thought that we might go fishing tomorrow," he said quietly.

His father did not even look at him. "Pack your things. I expect that you will be staying there for quite some time," he ordered. "Maybe you'll find a wife," he added coldly.

James nodded and bowed. "Yes sir."

.

Gwen grinned happily as she and her sister Evelyn skipped hand in hand to their shared bedroom. Though there were plenty of rooms in the house, the sisters demanded to share one. They had been inseparable since they could walk. Evelyn, though younger by a year, attracted quite a bit of attention from those of the male persuasion. She loved all the attention she received from them, though she was really a very well-mannered and respectable young lady.

Gwen also had her share of admirers, but she did not flirt nor appreciate their flattery. Gwen, though a very lovely and attractive young woman, was far more interested in the world beyond the borders of England. She wished to travel, to explore. It was impossible of course, as she was a woman and was condemned to marry, have children, and remain at home until she died. Gwen did not mind the prospect of children. In fact, she wanted to have children, but not before seeing the world.

Evelyn let go of Gwen's hand and fell back onto their bed with a sigh of relief. Evelyn was not for travel. She preferred balls and the life of a social butterfly, like their mother Josephine Crawford. Whenever anyone in the county so much as mentioned any sort of party, Josephine and Evelyn were the first to encourage it. Gwen liked parties as well, but in moderation.

"I'm so happy to be home!" Evelyn exclaimed.

Gwen lay down beside her sister. She smiled weakly. "I wish I could have seen more of Paris. There is no telling when I'll ever have the opportunity to visit it again," she told Evelyn, who turned onto her side and reached over to move a stray lock of hair from Gwen's face.

"I'm sure you will go back to Paris," she assured her. "Then you will visit the Orient and maybe Canada," she laughed.

Gwen laughed as she turned onto her back. "If I go will you come with me?" she asked.

Evelyn hesitated. "Gwen…" she began but was interrupted by the maid, Rose, entering the room.

"Mr. Hunt is at the door for you ma'am," Rose said to Gwen, who instantly sprang to her feet and rushed passed Rose.

Remy (short for Remus) Hunt was Gwen's best friend. They had known each other since infancy. He was the son of a lord and an Italian lady. He was very handsome with ebony hair, dark brown eyes, and tanned skin. Many believed that he would ask Gwen to marry him, though both friends knew that that was an impossibility. They were friends and nothing more.

Gwen raced down the grand staircase to meet Remy in the foyer. She hugged him tightly. "I have so much to tell you about Paris! It's beautiful, except for the smell, but even that isn't so bad once you see how breathtaking everything else is!" Gwen explained very quickly.

Remy grinned down at her. "I am very glad that you liked it. Paris is truly a beautiful city," he said. "Oh, and I have some interesting bit of news for you."

"Really what?" she asked.

"The nephew of the late Lady Catherine is coming with his son to stay at my parents' estate," Remy informed her, "and to honour their visit, my parents are holding a fantastic ball, which explains my unannounced visit."

Gwen stared at him. She knew Lady Catherine. They had met when Gwen was very young. She very much enjoyed her daughter Anne's company and she was still invited ever summer or so to stay at Rosings. But she had never met Mr. Darcy or his son, though Anne had told her quite a bit about the Darcy family.

"When?" was all Gwen could say. She was very excited. She had loved Lady Catherine and Lady Anne, so she expected to be equally fond of Darcy and his son.

"Two days until they arrive. The party will take place the following day."

Gwen smiled from ear to ear. She was speechless, but Evelyn, who had been eavesdropping, screamed in joy. "A ball in three days!" she exclaimed.

Mrs. Crawford came running into the room. "A ball? In only three days!" she cried. "Oh dear, but there is so much to do! Dresses to mend and ribbons to buy!" She turned to Evelyn. "We must move quickly! We must go to the Village at once!"

Gwen groaned. She had enough dresses and ribbon to last her a lifetime. She preferred to stay in the countryside, where there were not nearly enough people to disturb the peace. She preferred the smell of trees to the smell of sewage.

She turned to Remy. "Would you like to take a walk?" she asked.

He gave a small nod before opening the door for Gwen.

"Gwendolyn, don't you want new ribbon for the ball?" her mother asked.

"No mama. I have plenty," she answered politely as she walked out of the door. She was followed by Remy, who smirked upon seeing Mrs. Crawford's astonished face. Gwen was not trying to be impolite. The fact of the matter is that she had two dresses that she had never worn. One belonged to a dead friend of the family and the other was made for her by Lady Catherine before she died. Gwen had never found a reason to wear either of them, until now.

The two of them walked down the stone path that led to the woods. There was a narrow path that ran from their county to the next one. Remy and Gwen had spent quite a bit of their childhood playing among the tall trees.

"What do you think they are like?" Gwen asked.

Remy shrugged. "Like Lady Catherine, I presume. What was she like?"

"A grand lady with a large heart, once you saw passed her icy exterior. She very much cared about her family and the wellbeing. I miss her sometimes," she said. "That is why I'm so excited to meet Mr. Darcy and his son."

Remy chuckled. "Sometimes I don't understand your attachment to the old bag."

Gwen shot him a dangerous look. "She is the reason I have all that I have now. She is the reason I was even allowed to meet you. I owe everything to her."

.

Mrs. Crawford was moving faster than her husband or either of her children could keep up with. She was dressed in her long white flowing gown and her brown hair was tied up in a loose bun with some assorted fake pearls scattered here and there long before Gwen had even finished brushing Evelyn's long blonde hair.

Mr. Crawford grumbled as he pulled on his waistcoat, which seemed to have shrunk a little over the winter. He would have to be very careful not to burst the buttons. Once he was dressed, he called for the carriage and waited for his two daughters to come downstairs, as his wife was already waiting in the carriage.

Evelyn curled her long hair and pinned it up in a tail at the back of her head. Her hair was so long that it fell passed her shoulders even when tied up. She was wearing a cream-colored gown with a pale blue ribbon tied under her chest. The gown flowed down to the floor.

Gwen had her hair in a loose bun. There was little that she could do with her frizzy head of hair, but she managed to keep it under control. She managed to make it look very silky and elegant. Her dress was a very pale lavender with a tight bodice and then flowed to the floor. A golden ribbon was tied at the bodice and trailed behind her. The dress was made of a very light and soft material that Gwen could not name. She twirled in the mirror to watch the gown move with her. She had never worn it before, but she loved it. She knew that the dress had belonged to a friend of her mother who had died and so it held sentimental value.

Gwen and Evelyn raced down the staircase as quickly as they could. They did not want to miss a minute of the party. They stepped into the carriage with their parents and they were off.

The front of the Hunt manor was decorated with garlands of white and pink flowers. There were carriages everywhere with party guests stepping out of them. Gwen recognized quite a few of them, but there were some for whom she had never seen before. The Crawford daughters stepped out of the carriage first, followed by their father and then their mother. They followed the flow of guests that were filing into the Hunt manor.

The members of the Hunt family standing in the foyer, where they were greeting their guests. Remy smiled when he saw Gwen. He pointed to a tall dark-haired who was engaged in a conversation with Mrs. Lucinda Spencer and her husband. The gentleman's back was to Gwen, who hesitated because she noticed the young man who was standing beside Mr. and Mrs. Spencer. His name was Cole Spencer. He was a uninteresting, greasy-haired man with a more than disturbing infatuation with Gwen. She couldn't stand him and tried to avoid him as much as possible.

Remy appeared behind Gwen and placed hand on her shoulder. "He hasn't seen you yet, perhaps you could speak to the Darcys later," he suggested.

Gwen shook her head. "I can't run from him forever, Remy," she answered as she began to walk forward. Remy was at her side.

Lucinda saw Gwen first. She frowned before putting on a fake smile. "Oh, Gwendolyn, how nice to see you," she said.

Gwen returned the false smile. "Yes, how lovely to see you as well," she answered.

Remy cleared his throat to end the small tension that was building between them. "Gwen, this is Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy."

"Mr. Darcy, this is Miss Gwendolyn Crawford," Remy added to Mr. Darcy.

The tall dark-haired man turned slightly to face Gwen. He was handsome, though too aged to tempt Gwen. He did not smile at her, instead he stared at her without saying a word.

Gwen touched her cheek. "Do I have something on my face?" she asked.

Mr. Darcy shook his head. He blinked and said, "You look very familiar."

She smiled. "I spent quite a bit of time at Rosings when Lady Catherine was alive and I still visit Anne. Perhaps you saw me there."

Mr. Darcy nodded. "You are probably right."

Lucinda's face had grown red as Mr. Darcy stared at Gwen. Her husband, Richard, was a business associate of Mr. Darcy and she was insulted that he had chosen to stay with Mr. Hunt. The Spencer estate was far larger and much more extravagant.

Cole shyly glanced at Gwen. "Hello Gwendolyn," he murmured.

Gwen contained her repulsion. "Hello Cole," she replied.

"Oh, here comes your son, Mr. Darcy," Lucinda declared as she pointed to a crowd of people. "Oh, he is a handsome one."

Gwen turned to see young Mr. Darcy and was unpleasantly surprised to see the rude, dark-haired boy that she had met in France. Her jaw fell open slightly as he approached. His blue eyes grew wide upon noticing Gwen. He obviously remembered her.

Mr. Darcy placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Miss Gwendolyn Crawford, this is my son James Darcy."

Young Darcy bowed slightly. "Miss Crawford," he said.

Gwen curtsied. "Mr. Darcy," she said, trying hard to hide her distaste. They stared at each other for quite some time. Each was trying to hide their dislike of other from the other guests while trying to project that distaste onto the other.