Hi everyone! Thanks for clicking onto my story. This is my first regency style fanfic, so I'm not entirely sure that it is as good as some. If you have any suggestions for edits, just PM or leave them in a review; I'd love to hear what you think of my first p&p story. Also, I know that Darcy seems OOC in this, but for some reason I've always thought he would be humbled by what happened with Wickham, at least at first. I hope you like my story!
Fitzwilliam Darcy was deep in thought as he looked across the carriage at the sleeping form of his little sister, and saw the small frown playing across her lips, and hatred for George Wickham wells up back inside of him. He could hardly believe it, that his childhood playmate, the son of his father's respected steward, who had been favoured by his own father, would stoop so low as to attempt elopement with a girl of sixteen years, who was brought up as a little sister to him. If he hadn't got there on time to stop them... He couldn't live without Georgie. No one would believe it if he so much as told them, but he relied on Georgie as much as she did on him, albeit in a different way. He wiped away the wetness that had formed in his eyes somehow. He would not cry, he could not cry. The last time he cried was when his mother died, at twelve years. But the thought of my his family running of with that deceitful man... was the one thought he could hardly bear.
Yanking open the curtains, the view of Pemberley came into sight, and the relief of being safe at home with his little sister washed over him. Only here, at Pemberley, did he and Georgiana feel truly safe, with no one to answer to but each other and occasionally, Mr and Mrs Reynolds. Whilst the relationship of the siblings with the housekeeper and steward was an abnormal one, it was by no means a bad one. With no children to call their own, the Reynolds' doted on Fitzwilliam and Georgiana, treating them more as children than their employer and his sister. Despite the significantly lower station of them, it was a relationship that Fitzwilliam Darcy was, though he may never admit to it, grateful for. So when he spotted the brown horse of Mr Reynolds through the trees, he stopped the carriage and jumped out himself. He quickly jumped on his own white stallion, and set off at a run.
But nothing, not all his twenty seven years in the world, could prepare him for what he found in the middle of the forest on his grounds, instead of Mr Reynolds. Because, standing just metres ahead of Fitzwilliam Darcy was a woodland nymph, dressed in an emerald green dress, highlighting her slim figure, as she twirled around, humming Greensleeves to herself and running her fingers through chestnut waves and curls, her bonnet lying on the floor, forgotten.
In all his life, Darcy had never seen any woman's hair loose, other than his own sister's. But his little sister's perfect golden ringlets were an entirely different species to this woman's voluminous hair, which was framing her face perfectly. He listened to her humming, before involuntarily, he joined in.
Elizabeth Bennet jumped almost a metre into the air, when she heard a distinctly male, baritone hum join her in 'Greensleeves'. She turned, breathing heavily, to see a beautiful man holding the reins of his horse, and staring directly at her. 'He looks like a Greek god' was the first thing to run through Elizabeth's mind.
Their eyes met, both widening simultaneously. Darcy looked at the nymph's chocolate brown eyes, and saw a sparkle of brightness in them. He watched as she looked over him, as if she was trying to figure out if he was real. The humming had stopped; the only sound was their breathing. She looked into his eyes; pools of ice blue looking deep into her soul. His windswept black locks were swept across his forehead, his tanned skin giving him a mysterious look. Suddenly, the horse nickered, causing both to stop their examination of the other and look away, a light blush suffusing over both Darcy and Elizabeth's cheeks.
'Say something, you fool!' Darcy's brain was telling him. Darcy opened his mouth, and closed it again, only to reopen in. "Uh..." Elizabeth was regarding him with interest, and the corners of her lip twitched up as he scratched his head, clearly nervous. "I... um... am unaccustomed to seeing nymphs roaming my land whilst out on rides. He said it quickly, as if spitting out the words, and gave a quick bow, to which Elizabeth responded with a blush and a graceful curtsy. "Maybe I could be of assistance to you?" Darcy offered, his voice shaking slightly for a reason that he could not fathom. Elizabeth looked at him, wanting to giggle at his awkwardness, but the meaning of his first words came over her, and she said, "No, not at all, my aunt, uncle and I were having a tour here. I will leave you now." She gave another curtsey and began walking away from him. "No! Wait!" Darcy shouted towards her, causing her to turn around, and looks at him. He felt distinctly uncomfortable with his actions, but said "The house is this way," pointing in the opposite direction, "May I escort you there?" Elizabeth eyed him wearily before taking his arm and walking with him, his horse following behind.
"Might I enquire what your name might be?" Darcy asked Elizabeth, who had taken an interest in the forest floor.
"Elizabeth Bennet. You are Mr Darcy, no?" She was still looking down, and Darcy wanted to tilt her head up if only so that he could look into those fine eyes.
"Fitzwilliam Darcy, yes..." She could feel his blue eyes staring at the side of her head, so she looked up to meet them.
"Your grounds are so beautiful!" 'Not as beautiful as you', Fitwilliam thought, but then he gave her a small smile, his first since Ramsgate, in fact and started telling her about his beautiful home.
Elizabeth Bennet looked at the man next to her in surprise. He had completely transformed when he had started talking about his home... perhaps he was just shy... That must be it, because now he was eagerly pointing out different flowers with the expression of a little boy trying to please someone. Why he would be shy though, she could not imagine. No matter the reason, he was clearly not as arrogant and proud as she expected the great master of Pemberley to be.
Back in the view of the house, she inquired about his library, which she had been told of, but not shown, and he turned to her once again, admiring this miraculous women standing before him. She was everything Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley ever wanted in his wife... was love at first sight even real? Well, it was for his parents. Darcy immediately decided on his next course of action. Marry her. For Georgiana's sake; she needed a sisterly figure to help her, and Darcy, though many things he was, a sister, he was not. He heard a delicate cough, which had come from Miss Bennet, who's question he had still not answered. She was looking at him expectantly, so he cleared his throat to tell her of his favourite room of the house, where books had been collected and passed down for many generations of Darcys. And as she listened with rapt attention, still gently holding his arm, Darcy forgot all about Wickham, and the immense pain he had been through, and as she began to debate with him about Shakespeare's tragedies, he was smiling whilst enthusiastically arguing his case, all his worries of Ramsgate, George Wickham, Georgiana and his overbearing aunt were replaced with a feeling of pure pleasure and enjoyment.
Her reactions to his grounds allowed him to see them in a new perspective. After all, to Fitzwilliam Darcy, the lake a completely normal part of his household, the many fruit crops were things he took for granted, but Elizabeth's excitement at the strawberry bush brought a newfound appreciation for his gardeners and everyone else who kept his house in its perfect condition. He chuckled at his own thoughts, wondering what this woman was doing to him.
Elizabeth was gazing wistfully at the perfectly ripe strawberries, desperate to pick one, when she heard a deep, almost musical chuckle from behind her. There was Mr Darcy, simply laughing to himself. She looked him, a small smirk coming across her lips. He blushed; it was almost endearing, before reaching towards the bush to pick a strawberry and give it to her. She smiled; he had realised exactly what she wanted, and she took from him, savouring the tangy taste, not noticing Darcy's eyes watching her lips.
She suddenly let out a small gasp. "What is it?" Darcy asked, clearly concerned.
"Oh! I have been out all of this time... I promised Aunt Gardiner that I would be with them in only 10 minutes! We have been walking for nearly two hours!" Elizabeth said, feeling annoyed at her own idiocy. In that moment, both Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth realised the impropriety of their actions; they might even say he had compromised her... would that be so bad? He wanted to marry her anyway, did he not? But he also wanted to give her the choice, or he would be no better than George Wickham. How could he be so thoughtless! Fitzwilliam Darcy knew he wasn't his normal self, but he felt... free. Almost as if he was a young boy again, running around the grounds away from his tutors, into the loving arms of his mother after falling out of a tree. "We must return to the house." Fitzwilliam Darcy told her, the aloof ''master of Pemberley' mask back on his face. "I abhor deceit of any form, however I do not wish to have your reputation ruined for my own thoughtless actions. With your permission, may I tell your aunt and uncle that I came upon you only 10 minutes ago? And that, like any respectable gentleman, I offered to escort you back indoors?" She couldn't help but feel indebted to this wonderful man, who was willing to lie, only to protect her reputation. She nodded gratefully, and two began to walk back into Pemberley.