CHAPTER 1: FOUND

Dovedale, 1791

The heaven was scowling, wind was howling and thunderclouds were raging. It was twilight, but darkness made it appear as if it was well beyond midnight.

Rain lashed against the bosom of the Earth in a fiery haze, whilst the tumultuous sky was sporadically alit with bolts of lightning that seemed to nearly tear the world in half. Giant boughs of trees shook like demented beasts, sending humans and animals scurrying for shelter.

Tearing through the darkness, braving the storm moved a run down carriage. Its pace severely decimated due to sludge and mud.

"Perdition to thee!" Its driver spat, cursing himself for agreeing for the journey. His muscles ached and his eyes nearly drooped with exhaustion as he braved the terrible fury of nature.

His horses were weary and easily spooked in the tempestous weather, yet he drove along.

Had it not been for the promised three hundred pounds, he would never have agreed to this journey. He sighed with relief when at long last they arrived for which they had aimed.

Looming in the darkness,rose a monolith, long since fallen into abeyance. A man exited the carriage with a small bundle and swiftly entered the dilapidated structure. Soon enough, he appeared again empty handed and board the carriage. As the carriage swiftly moved forward, he watched avidly as the stone shelter again became obscured in darkness.

Meryton Assemble, 1812

Fitzwilliam Darcy was irate. His glower becoming fiercer, with every whisper of 'Ten thousand pounds a year!' By jove, the company was so crass, the manner so despicable and people the very epitome of savagery. Had they no manner, no sense of propriety to at least hush their voices as they discussed his monetary worth as if he were a horse on sale!

As if it were not enough, he had to be polite to them, bowing and accepting their curtsy as every match making Mama all but shoved their daughter in his face.

He looked over at his friend to find him quite enjoying the company.

But then again there is nothing much that puts Bingley in a foul temper, he thought wryly.

Sighing, he bowed his head slightly as he was introduced to a Mr and Mrs Bennet. The woman was as uncouth and vulgar as they came, yet there he stood gritting his teeth as the woman all but dragged her daughters forward to effect an introduction.

"Mr Bingley, Mr Darcy, please allow me to introduce you to my daughters, Miss Jane Bennet, Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Miss Mary Bennet My youngest two are otherwise engaged." Mr. Bennet said wryly, his voice fraught with amusement.

Barely, glancing at the women in front of him as he was usually wont to do at such soirée, he bowed his head in acknowledgement. However, as he curtly answered some inane query of Mrs Bennet, his eyes locked with one of the young women standing in front of him and his eyes widened with disbelief.

Standing there was a young lady, her emerald green eyes vibrant with a keen intellect and laughter. Luscious, mahogany curls were set atop her head in an elaborate hairstyle, a few rebellious tendrils framing her delicate face most becomingly. Thick lashes framed her eyes and her lips were curled in a most enchanting smile.

However, it was not her captivating beauty that entranced him, but her appearance, her familiarity...

His shocked eyes traced her features desperately, his heart filled with trepidation and excitement in equal measure. He could not recall the last time he had felt such fierce tangle of contradictory emotions, not even when he first rode a pony as a lad. Yet now, his heart was pounding fit to burst as his eyes traced the woman's features that were so familiar, yet so unfamiliar...

Had the ton seen him then, they would have borne witness to a most spectacular sight of the stoic master of Pemberley, one of the finest estates in the kingdom, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy come undone!

Mr Darcy stumbled back, as he found the damning proof of his miraculous discovery. A small scar no longer than the size of his thumbnail, extended from her chin to her left jawbone in a most unusual shape of a bird in flight. It was rather deep, an ugly reminder of a bad fall, the only flaw on her otherwise flawless face.

He remembered it, remebmered that day, the fall which had caused it, the tears that had been shed and the comfort given. It was the last summer that his family had spent in gaiety and cheer...the last summer before their lives altered forever...before their lives became purgatory.

However, his elation and disbelief slowly gave way to fury.

For standing before him, unaware of her own nobility and roots, was Lady Elizabeth Anne Fitzwilliam, the long lost only daughter of Lady Elienora Jean Cavendish Fitzwilliam, the Countess of Matlock and Henry Fitzwilliam, the Earl of Matlock.

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