Chapter One
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a young, single lady in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a husband. Such was the case of the one Miss Isabella Darcy, who was still very much young, in possession of a very large fortune consisting of 40,000 pounds, but alas, very single.
Truth be told, this neither vexed Miss Darcy, nor her mother, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy very much. In fact, Mrs. Darcy had been twenty years old, halfway to the shelf, when she had met and married Mr. Darcy. And as they were fond of telling their children, there was nothing typical about Mr. and Mrs. Darcy's courtship.
For starters, when they met, they immediately hated each other, him thinking her below him for her country manners, and her thinking that he was too prideful and vain. It had taken them multiple run-ins across the country, one scandalous elopement (Mrs. Darcy's sister, not the Darcys themselves), and two proposals to overcome their respective prejudices, and agree to court, and eventually marry.
If one good thing had come out of this unusual marriage, it was that the Darcys were still as passionately in love as ever, even after so many years and four children, something Isabella knew was a rarity among those of their social class.
And of course, there were the children themselves.
When Mrs. Darcy came to Pemberley and bore four children, Pemberley's staff could not have been more delighted. After so many years, the halls rang with children's laughter and their pattering footsteps once more were heard throughout the grand house.
Now however, it was a quiet house that Miss Isabella Darcy found. Her younger brother James and sister Matilda were asleep and George was not due back from Cambridge for another week. Isabella had decided to take advantage of the silence and go for a walk in the expansive grounds of her home. At eighteen years of age, Isabella was much too old for a governess unlike her younger siblings, and her companion had recently gotten married and had quit her position, thus leaving Isabella without anyone watch over her (not that she minded).
It was her eighteenth spring, and there was a feeling of carefree in the air. Too young to get married (her papa had forbade her from accepting any marriage proposals in her first season) and too old to be watched over, Isabella had spent her weeks back at Pemberley taking advantage of her newfound freedom from the Ton with long walks and rides through the grounds, practicing her singing, and reading everything in the well-stocked shelves of the Pemberley library.
Isabella used the servant's entrance to enter the kitchen in order to avoid being noticed, and immediately spotted her target. A tray of freshly made biscuits was on the long table and Isabella quickly walked towards them, inhaling the freshly baked aroma. As she took a handful to put in her bag for going outside, she couldn't help reminiscence how many times she and George had snuck in there and successfully stole-
"Miss Darcy!"
Perhaps not so successful this time.
Isabella whirled around, and in her haste dropped her bag, and she could hear the biscuits breaking inside there. A short, matronly woman stood there, her normally jovial face looking disapproving.
"Good afternoon Mrs. Talbot," Isabella said with a smile on her face, though inwardly quaking. The housekeeper of Pemberley had spent enough years at the house in order to know when something was amiss in her well-guarded kitchen, and Isabella should have known she would have arrived to investigate soon enough.
"Good afternoon Miss Darcy," Mrs. Talbot curtseyed, looking at her disapprovingly all the while. "And what might you be doing in my kitchen?"
"Well Mrs. Talbot," Isabella explained cheerfully, "I was going out and was feeling rather hungry, so I decided to stop by the kitchens." She gestured to her bag which was on the floor, and prayed that she would let her go.
Mrs. Talbot sighed a long suffering sigh and said, "Very well, you may go." As Isabella ran out the door, she swore she saw a twinkle in the stern housekeeper's eye.
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How she had missed her rambling walks in the countryside! London was such a dirty, crowded place; Isabella could hardly step out save a few, rare visits to the park. Instead, since her presentation at St. James's Court, she had barely any time to herself, due to the numerous balls, operas, and other social functions she had to attend. And then there were the suitors themselves. Isabella wrinkled her nose in displeasure, silently thanking God that her papa had expressly forbidden her to enter an engagement during her first season, a rule Isabella was more than happy to obey.
It wasn't that that the suitors were not amiable or good looking, because there were more than a few of those. It was just that they were all after Miss Darcy, heiress to forty-thousand pounds, and not Isabella herself, and she so wished it was the other way…
Brushing aside her melancholy thoughts, Isabella soon found herself in a small clearing in the woods. A stream bubbled through the trees and she could hear the birds cheerfully warbling a tune she could not identify, but sounding as beautiful as any music to her ears.
Isabella sat down in the grass where she proceeded to pull out a pen, ink, and some paper to write a long overdue letter to her cousin.
Dipping her pen in the ink, she held it over the inkpot to let the excess drip while she thought of what to write. She then bent down over the paper, taking care not to drip the ink, and began.
15 May _
Pemberley, Derbyshire
Dearest Elizabeth,
I must congratulate you on securing a proposal from one Mr. Herrington, and turning it down. Mama tells me that you did it with grace and dignity, something which I entirely lack according to her, and should learn from you. But then Mama also confessed that she did not have much of it at my age either. However, please advise.
It is quite lovely here at Pemberley at this time of the year. The trees and flowers have bloomed and the crops are growing quickly. And as you know, the annual Midsummer's Ball is to be held in just a month, and preparations are already under way. Just think, it will be the first ball at Pemberley we can attend, I am sure I shall do my best to be as ridiculous as possible and you will do your equal best to dissuade me from any further mischief.
All jokes aside Eliza, how is the Ton? I hope the matrons are not too hard on you because of your connections, and the fact that you turned down a very eligible bachelor. After all, you are far more beautiful than some of those harpies in the Ton, along with their match-making mamas. But do not fear, you will be back in the countryside before you know it, and coming to Pemberley. With George and Cousin Charles coming as well, we shall be a merry party this summer indeed.
I am eagerly awaiting your arrival. Give my warmest regards to my Aunt and Uncle Bingley as well as Eleanor.
Isabella
As she finished signing her name, Isabella heard a loud cry of "Miss Darcy!" and turned around. A maid was scurrying through the grass, careful as to not stain her apron, and was coming towards her.
"What is it Harriet?" Isabella called to her, sealing her letter in the envelope and making note to have it sent at the nearest possible time to Lambton to be posted. Harriet came to a stop before her, gasping for breath and Isabella wondered in amusement how fast Harriet must have run to come here. She was the new maid, and was clearly more than eager to do her job, but her over-zealousness was a source of amusement to the rest of the servants.
"The mistress wants you at once," Harriet said between breaths as Isabella took her time to get up.
"Where?" She asked.
"In the small drawing room," Harriet said quickly, and Isabella quickly dusted the dirt and grass off her skirts. Though her mother was not very formidable (that was her papa, but everyone said Isabella had even him wrapped around her little finger), Isabella knew she had to be back at once, and took off running.
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Twenty minutes later, Isabella had hastily arranged her gown and hair as she made her way up the grand staircase towards the drawing room where her mother would be waiting for her. Mr. Hargrove, the butler, was at the drawing room entrance, and chuckled as Isabella rushed towards the door.
"Late again Miss Darcy?" He asked in his frail yet reassuring voice, and Isabella managed to muster the smile for the old butler. She had known him for years, and there was a sense of camaraderie between her and him, as he had practically watched her grow up, along with the rest of the Darcy siblings.
"I'm afraid so Mr. Hargrove," She answered with a grin.
"She's waiting for you," He raised his eyebrows at her, trying to be disapproving, but failing miserably.
"Will she be terribly upset?" Isabella asked, knowing the answer already.
"Not if you go in right now," He smiled at her, and proceeded to open the door.
Elizabeth Darcy, nee Bennet was unusual for a woman of her standing in many ways. Well-read and outspoken, Mrs. Darcy was a force to be reckoned with and yet she was gentle and loving towards those she cared about. She was stubborn as well, and had refused all help when it came to raising George and Isabella, and only relented when she had her third child. Yes, Mrs. Darcy was an unusual woman indeed, and Isabella knew it.
But now, her mama sat in the drawing room, regal and tall (though not so much; Mrs. Darcy was a petite woman, something Isabella had not inherited) as any woman of the Ton, while she calmly embroidered.
When she heard the door open, she smiled at the latecomer, and said, "Isabella dear, come have some tea."
Relieved at not being scolded for her lateness, Isabella sat in one of the sofas and her mother poured her the tea while Isabella helped herself to a biscuit.
"Mrs. Talbot told me you visited the kitchen earlier," Mrs. Darcy said casually, and Isabella stopped mid-bite. "Any particular reason?"
Isabella sighed. Her mother knew everything.
"For the biscuits," She mumbled, and Mrs. Darcy burst out laughing at her daughter's discomfort at being caught.
"It's quite alright," Her mother said once she was done laughing, and then added significantly, "Although I do believe the news I have might make you want to behave more ladylike."
"At Pemberley?" Isabella said cheekily as she began to mend a handkerchief. "Never." Pemberley was her safe haven, where she could do as she pleased and the rigid restrictions of Ton never applied.
"Nonetheless," Mrs. Darcy smiled, "George wrote to me saying that he is bringing his friends home as well as your cousin Charles."
Isabella immediately perked up from her stitching. "Is Julian coming?" She asked, trying to hide her eagerness.
"Yes, but you must call his by his title dear," Her mother admonished slightly, "He is a Viscount after all, it would not do to insult him."
"But he told me to call him that," Isabella pouted prettily, but the affect was lost on her mother.
"However, you must address him properly," Mrs. Darcy said lightly, and then added with a twinkle in her eye, "No matter how many matrons of the Ton you shock with your dancing."
"It was during one ball, Mama," Isabella rolled her eyes. "Ju-His Lordship," She corrected herself, "Is a rather exuberant dancer."
"I noticed he paid a marked attention to you throughout the season," Her mother smiled knowingly at her, and she blushed.
"It's not like that," She replied, her cheeks tinged with pink at the thought. "Besides," Isabella added with a smirk, "He favors blondes above all," She gestured to her dark curls she had inherited from her mother.
"Whoever could you mean?" Mrs. Darcy asked curiously, clearly wondering if it was anyone she knew.
"I shan't tell," Isabella said mysteriously, with a gleam in her bright blue eyes.
Mrs. Darcy chuckled, and then added, "He's also bringing another friend from Cambridge."
"Do we know him?" Isabella asked from her stitching.
"I don't think so," Her mother said thoughtfully. "A Mr. James Ashleigh, from Lancashire. He comes from trade, according to George."
"Trade?" Isabella asked curiously, if not disapprovingly.
"Your Uncle Bingley was a tradesman's son as well," Mrs. Darcy reminded her. "And I'm sure Mr. Ashleigh is a perfect gentleman, and we shall treat him as such. In fact," She put down her stitching and stood up as she said to her daughter, "We shall be perfect ladies and welcome them all graciously to Pemberley."
It was at that precise moment that Isabella chose to prick herself, and she swore under her breath (quite fluently, thanks to years of listening to George) as she began to undo several rows of uneven stitches.
Her mother sighed as she hurried away to fetch the housekeeper and some ointment. "Perfect ladies indeed," Mrs. Darcy muttered under her breath.
Hey guys! This is my first P&P fanfiction and I am realy excited to write it. As you can probably tell, this story follows the Miss Isabella Darcy, daughter of Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy, and her escapades as a young woman. I will try to update as soon as possible, and be sure to review, follow, and favorite!
Since this is my first fanfiction, feel free to critique or ask any questions... I could really use the help.
I hope you enjoy it :)