CHAPTER ONE—Vengenace

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy looked at the wall next to the window of his bed chamber and longed to bang his head into it — over and over. He had to make hard choices every day of his grown life; for his much younger sister, Georgiana, for his tenants, his lands, and for himself. For five years he had been master of Pemberley and all of its holdings. He was a wealthy man. That was not where the danger lay. It was that he was a single man possessed of a large fortune.

It mattered not to the grasping mothers and debutantes of the ton whether he was young or old, handsome or plain in appearance. Darcy knew it was his money and his name that drew unwanted attention like flowers drew bees. It was as if an unmarried woman instinctively flocked to his side. And, he hated it. He hated the attention, the fawning, the pretense, and the games women played to attract him.

Darcy knew what would happen if he chose to remain behind while Bingley and his sisters went to the assembly in Meryton. Bingley's maiden sister would remain behind as well. She was an elegantly dressed shrew who had no qualms about promoting herself as the future Mistress of Pemberley. Darcy vowed this would never happen. Just the thought of spending a lifetime with Caroline Bingley made him shudder. She was not the role model his shy sister needed to aid her to maturity. It was not only repulsive to him, it would be an unkindness to Georgiana.

Charles Bingley, on the other hand, had been a friend since Cambridge. Bingley was an amiable man with a zest for life that complemented Darcy's stoic reserve. Bingley wanted nothing from Darcy except advice in becoming a gentleman landowner. He was willing to do the work on his own, not attach himself to Fitzwilliam Darcy's coattails to boost himself and his sisters into a higher social sphere.

Darcy had arrived earlier that day to find that Bingley had accepted an invitation to a local assembly in the nearby town of Meryton. It was close to Netherfield Park, Bingley's leased estate, and the distance help lure Charles to the dance. As the prominent house in the entire county, it was imperative that Bingley attend and to establish himself with the other landowners and local gentry. Bingley's social nature made this an easy decision to make for himself.

For Darcy, attending any social occasion, especially where he was unacquainted with any other than with his own party, was torture. He would be scrutinized and judged, his income weighed in the balance and found desirable. It had started during his adolescent years at Eton. Reeling from his mother's illness and death but months before, the tutor-educated young scholar was woefully unprepared for society he stepped into as a very wealthy boy at Eton. Even when his father sent his godson to attend school with Fitzwilliam the following year, there was no relief. The son of his father's steward possessed charm and a sly personality. The father had no idea that George Wickham was not a true friend to Fitzwilliam, but only used his access to him and the Darcy name to lead the life he felt entitled to lead, steward's son or not. Other boys, false friends, and even professors had jockeyed for a chance to some kind of hold on him. They wanted what he had; wealth, power, reputation. The heir to a family, though untitled, that had held its lands since William the Conqueror, was born with power and influence most could only dream of. They craved it with an intensity that moved them to befriend the quiet boy for what they could use him for – what they could get from him. He left Cambridge with the close friendship of only a few. Bingley, John "Magic Jack" Hightower, and his Fitzwilliam cousins on his mother's side.

The Darcy's held no title, yet their history in England was hundreds of years old. Darcy's grandfather on his mother's side was an earl. Pemberley, his country home, held over two hundred in his employ, caring for his estate and farming productive land. Speculation had his income at ten thousand a year; a pound for every acre. However, this amount was grossly under-reported. Investments in India and trade within the kingdom made the Darcy name one to be reckoned with at any level of society. The Prince of Wales often lamented that the Darcys had no affinity for what association with royal family offered.

Darcy looked again at the wall and realized he truly had no choice. His forehead would be saved a battering for another day. To avoid the machinations of Miss Bingley, he would attend the assembly. Masters, his valet, helped him into his coat and picked unnecessarily at his cravat, making last minute adjustments only he could see. The gentleman looked in the mirror of his dressing room, finding all in order, and left his chambers to wait for the rest of the party in the sparsely furnished library.

It was there Bingley and his brother-in-law, Gilbert Hurst, found him perusing the mostly empty shelf of books. Only two Shakespeare titles, one book of poetry by Coleridge, an antiquated copy of a Greek epic, which Darcy easily translated as the Odyssey, and a Latin textbook were stacked in no particular order. Darcy regretted he had not brought more books from either Darcy House in London or Pemberley in Derbyshire.

"Darcy," Bingley was his typical chipper self. "What a wonderful night for a gathering. The moon is full, and the gentlemen I have been introduced to over the past two weeks have been all that is pleasant and good. I look forward to meeting more of our neighbors and dancing with their sisters and daughters. It will be a grand night for us all."

Upon entering, Hurst went immediately to a small table to the right of the doorway. On it were three bottles filled with three different shades of amber liquid. Helping himself to the brandy in the closest container, he raised an eyebrow and a glass to the other two men. Both Bingley and Darcy declined, though the port or the Scotch whisky was a temptation. He would need fortification if he was to step away from his typical position of leaning against a wall in a dark corner, hidden from view as much as a tall man with broad shoulders could hide. He knew propriety demanded he dance at least once with his hostess, Miss Bingley. Though she had already hinted broadly at the possibility of opening the assembly with Darcy, he made it a practice never to dance the first. It led to too much gossip and created expectations that were not valid. He had made that mistake only once several years ago and had to retreat to Pemberley almost immediately for the rest of the season to quell the expectations. He had no regrets foregoing the charade. He was not in search for a wife.

Before Darcy could reply to Bingley, Caroline swept into the room, followed by her older sister, Louisa Hurst. They were similar in appearance and similar in attitude. Both thought highly of themselves for their accomplishments and assumed they held a position in society far higher than was true. They were the daughters of a tradesman but truly believed their attendance at a fine ladies' academy in the company of a few daughters of the first circle automatically elevated their own status. They were delusional in assuming they could achieve by education that which a lady could only truly achieve by birth and, less often, by marriage. Bingley was more realistic. He knew he was not quite a gentleman but was laying the groundwork for his own children and grandchildren.

"Oh, Mr. Darcy, you look well tonight." Miss Bingley immediately attached herself to his left arm, stepping as close as possible without actually embracing him. Darcy side-stepped away.

"Thank you, Miss Bingley." He knew she waited for him to compliment her on her looks, but he refused to provide any reason for her to think he was attached to her in any manner or form.

"Charles," Miss Bingley ignored Darcy's withdrawal. "I cannot imagine why you felt it necessary to attend a country dance. The conversation and manners of the country society are certain to be lacking. It will be an insult to our sensibilities to walk among them. Better would it have been to have remained in town."

"Do you mean that, Miss Bingley? You find Hertfordshire lacking?" Darcy chuckled to himself as he realized the trap Caroline had set for herself and fallen into. At her nod he continued. "With your opinions in mind, I will inform my housekeeper that you will not accompany your brother to Pemberley, my country estate, for the holidays. The country society that celebrates the festive season ar Pemberley events would be lacking for one of your tastes."

He stepped away from her, pulling his arm away from Caroline's clasping hands. She sputtered as she tried to recover from her own tongue.

Bingley laughed. "He has got you there, Caroline."

"Mr. Darcy, you cannot mean that." Again, she edged closer to him, using her fan to playfully tap his arm.

"Do I ever say what I do not mean, Miss Bingley?" Darcy looked down at her from his elevated height, his eyes piercing with no humor or jest. He kept his gaze focused on her until she wilted like an unwatered plant. Stepping away from him, he heard her mutter under her breath, "We shall see." He took that as a challenge.

The gathering was all Darcy imagined it to be. Untrained musicians played mediocre tunes, while the crowded dance floor bounced with the synchronized steps of a reel. Caroline had been correct. The clothing and manners were far more relaxed than in town. Nevertheless, it was similar to the few he attended in Lambton, the closest town to his home. In spite of the unfashionable clothing, he found a measure of comfort in the snippets of conversation; discussions of tenant problems, crops, fencing, and drainage. These were topics he could listen to all night. Interspersed, throughout, were easily heard proclamations of his ten-thousand a year and Bingley's five. He wondered who had decided on these numbers, even though they were consistent with town rumors, and who thought to spread them here. He resolved to have Masters check the back issues of the gossip columns, the most likely source. He took a deep breath in and held it for a moment to regain his bearings as he searched the room for the best hiding place. It was a challenge to appear invisible at well over six feet in height, yet he usually managed to stave off the few who approached him with an intimidating glare.

"Darcy, come. You must meet some of my neighbors." Bingley had known Darcy's habit of isolation. Before he could move away, Bingley introduced him to Sir William Lucas and his eldest daughter, Miss Charlotte Lucas. That introduction was immediately followed by one to Mr. Thomas Bennet, the father of no less than five unmarried daughters. Only the three youngest, called Mary, Catherine, and Lydia, were available for the introduction as the two eldest, Jane and Elizabeth he was told, were already dancing. Darcy was appalled at the ill manners and vulgar speech of Mrs. Bennet. That she had asked him to personally confirm his income had insulted him to the extreme. That she had also questioned him on Bingley's private affairs was appalling. He could not move away from that family fast enough.

It was two dances later, after Bingley had danced with Miss Lucas and the eldest Bennet sister, Jane, that Darcy's attention was captured by the conversation of Miss Jane Bennet. He did not mean to eavesdrop, but knew that to move away from his post would invite attention he did not desire. Thus, he stayed.

"Lizzy, I have never met with so many pleasant gentlemen in my life as I have this evening; and there are one or two who are uncommonly handsome."

"You are dancing with the only handsome man in the room," said the dark-headed woman seated next to her. They both turned their heads to look at Bingley, who was currently dancing with his sister, Caroline.

"Oh! He is the most amiable creature I ever beheld!"

Darcy could not help but agree with her observation. Bingley was all that was amiable. He looked closer at the young woman and was pleased with her countenance. Her pale complexion and blonde hair were highlighted by her serenity. There is a woman who conducts herself well in company! He was surprised.

She continued. "But, there is one of his party just behind you, who I dare say is also very agreeable. Do let me ask Mr. Bingley to introduce you, Lizzy."

"Which do you mean?" Turning around, she looked for a brief moment at Darcy, catching his eye. She withdrew her own and coldly proclaimed. "He is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to gentlemen who slight other women. You had better return to your partner and enjoy his smiles, for you are wasting your time with me."

Darcy was horrified. Never had he been treated such. He was used to admiration, praise, and adulation. He was the prize that every woman sought. Who did this young woman think she is? Who is she to judge him so poorly?

Elizabeth Bennet had observed the man since he came into the room. He failed to politely request a dance of her best friend, Charlotte, after they had been introduced, even though she was the daughter of his host. And, he, in his self-importance, had placed himself out of the way of the attendees of the ball, staying close to the wall and looking entirely unwelcoming. He obviously had the higher status and would not be approached by any of her neighbors. He would have to make the first move and appeared unwilling to associate with those she had known all her twenty years. Gentlemen were scarce tonight and many young ladies were sitting for lack of a partner. Even Elizabeth knew this would be considered a slight at a London ball. It was ever more obvious at their more modest assembly. She felt no little satisfaction that he heard the insult as she thought, "cut for cut!"

Stung, and not a little angry, Darcy was still in his position a few moments later when Bingley approached him. The horrible young woman was still chatting with the beautiful blonde nearby, and she, Darcy suspected, was why Bingley sought him out. Casting a sidelong glance in her direction, he waited while Bingley rhapsodized over his partner.

"Darcy, have you ever seen such an angel? Her smiles are so sweet and I can speak so easily to her!"

"Charles, you speak easily with everyone. Where is she?" Darcy asked.

"Oh, she is there speaking with her sister, Miss Elizabeth."

Better and better, Darcy thought. "Oh. I would be very careful here, Charles. You had already asked Miss Bennet to dance while I was still with the mother." From the side of his eye, he could see he had both sisters' full attention. "Did you know she had the gall to ask me to verify my income and quiz me on what properties I owned? She also expected me to give her the same information on you. I have met some mercenary, matchmaking mamas in my time but she is the most vulgar and blatant one I have ever had the misfortune to meet. Pounds and pence lit up her eyes." He could now see both sisters' check were flaming red in mortification as he continued. "I do not know the character of Miss Bennet, or her sisters, and neither do I know if she is under her mother's guidance in this, but I warn you as my friend: be very careful to not place yourself in a position that could cause you to be asking for the hand of someone who does not truly care for you and is not worthy of your affection. If you pursue the acquaintance, proceed carefully. I wish you only the best, my friend."

Charles Bingley swallowed before speaking. "I will be guided by you in this."

"No, Charles. Do not be guided by me, but by your own understanding. There is a reason I stay out of the way at these events. I have been pursued ruthlessly for years. You are new to all that being a gentleman entails. I just ask that you be careful and think before you act."

"Thank you, Darcy, I appreciate your advice." Charles pulled at the bottom of his coat. "I believe I will seek a second set from Miss Bennet for later in the ball." Charles walked towards the sisters, giving Darcy a reason to look at them directly.

He thought to himself, take that, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Cut for cut. And then he watched as Charles asked for, but was refused a second set with his angel. The sisters sat close together and Darcy was surprised to see the younger use her handkerchief to dry the tears of the older. Miss Elizabeth's eyes were suspiciously bright as well, but as he watched, her spine straightened and her chin rose in defiance of what she surely was feeling.

"Brava, Miss Elizabeth, brava," he whispered to himself as he turned and walked to another corner of the room and asked Miss Mary Bennet for a set.