A/N: Hello potential readers, I am a longtime reader of P&P fanfic and wanted to try my hand at writing one. This is my own fantastical version of the Great Jane Austen's world. It is written to entertain, not to offend. It is not historically accurate nor written in a strictly regency style (i.e. may contain modern words, contractions, etc.) My story contains sexual content and quite frankly some bad people. Adult audiences only please. AU & HEA. Please don't read further if you feel that its not your cup of tea. Regards, LR
Profligate and Proclivities
Prologue
The thirteen-year-old boy crouched in the corner of a dilapidated cottage in the middle of the English countryside. He and his mother were dumped unceremoniously the previous evening with their hands and feet bound. The men had allowed them a cup of gruel to break their fast but nothing since and the boy was getting thirsty and hungry. The boy tried to quell his rumbling stomach so as to not disturb his mother who seemed to be getting weaker by the second. At least they had placed his mother on the solitary cot of their prison room. He could hear the activity of the inhabitants in the outer room and tried not to draw their attention.
The boy, William, was beyond scared and increasingly guilt-ridden as he stared at his mother. She shouldn't have been with him on this ill-fated journey. He hadn't wanted to return to Eton for his fall semester. His mother was still unwell after the birth of his sister, Georgiana, and he wanted to stay by her side. The precious infant also needed his attentions; he was the only one able to elicit her infectious belly laughs. His father was so cold and barely visited the nursery, while the majority of his days was spent in the nursery or his mother's bedchambers.
That was why he refused to leave Pemberley to attend school. His father, who was all about responsibility and order, had threatened to take a paddle to him if he didn't comply and the boy stubbornly chose the beating until his mother stepped in and offered to accompany him. She wanted to show him that she was getting stronger and all would be well when he returned for his Christmas break. His father grumbled about his lack of discipline and her mollycoddling before storming from the room.
Because of the delay in departure they had to make their normally two day leisurely journey in one to make it to Eton on time. So they started off before dawn and rode throughout the day only stopping to change horses and grab a bite to eat. He and his mother entertained each other by taking turns reading and singing. He could tell she was tired but she always looked upon him with her loving smile. He was content not to have made this usually lonely ride by himself.
It was just after dusk and they were still an hour or two away from school when they heard shouting and then gunfire. Inside the carriage, the occupants were thrown backwards as the coach sped down the road only to be jolted to the floor when the carriage came to a lurching halt a few seconds later. The boy was unhurt as his mother's arms were wrapped around him the whole time but he panicked when he saw blood spewing from the ugly gash on his mother's forehead.
William cried out for help when he saw that his mother had fainted. Although he heard scuffling outside, no one came to his aid. Finally, the door opened to show their coach driver surrounded by hooded men holding guns and rifles. Their long-time servant told the boy to be calm; he was to ride back to Pemberley with the outlaw's ransom demands but he was assured that William and his mother would come to no further harm until the demands were met. With a reassuring nod and a promise to ride back as soon as possible, the driver hurried away.
An hour later found the whole party in the dilapidated cottage. His mother came awake briefly in the early dawn and only showed concern for young William before losing consciousness. Her breathing was labored and she was feverish. The boy knew he needed to get her to safety soon and she couldn't wait for the ransom to arrive. Sometime in the night, William had come across a large piece of stone that came through the broken stucco wall. He was using the jagged edge to wear away at the ropes.
William was suddenly jolted out of his thoughts of hunger and pain when he heard his mother's labored intake stopped mid-breath and released with a small whine. He waited for her next breath but heard no more. William started screaming for help, and crying uncontrollably. The men came running in; they hadn't stopped to put on their masks and the boy could see the shock and resignation on their faces. Their kidnapping just turned into murder. They knew enough of Darcy by reputation to know that their lives were now forfeit if anyone was to recognize them.
The leader stared at the forlorn boy for a hard minute before leaving him alone with his mother. William could hear the men arguing in the other room but all he could do was struggle to get to her body. His efforts to push himself up against the wall snapped the last of the rope bounding his hands. He quickly untied his feet and ran the rest of the way to the bed. He shook and pled with his mother to wake up and not leave him.
He must have fallen asleep because he came to coughing into the darkness. He saw flames come through parts of the roof and stone wall. He jumped off the cot taking the inert body of his mother with him. He tried the door and found it unlocked. Looking across the small parlor, he saw the front door ablaze and thick smoke blanketing the top half of the room. Without thinking, he returned to his mother and after wrapping his arms around her torso, carried and heaved himself backwards towards the door. He had gained enough momentum racing across the small parlor that he was able to crash through the burning door to the outside landing him on the soft cool grass several feet away with his mother's remains still clutched to his front. Almost instantly he passed out from searing pain of his back meeting the embers of the door and then the hard earth.
When he came to once again, the sky was a dark gray with light rain moistening his face. His mother's body was still on top of him but had grown cold and hard. He shimmied from underneath her ignoring the raw pain in his back. Before him laid the charred ruins of the cottage and just to the right stood the empty and horseless carriage still laden with the Darcy crest. Fighting panic, he concentrated on getting himself and his mother into the identifying carriage and thought that in doing so, his father would somehow find them.
Three interminable days later, young William succumbed to oblivion amidst shouts of discovery.