This chapter is short and descriptive on purpose. I wished to set the scenery of my Pemberley and its shades (amen Lady Catherine), as well as give a first insight into what I imagine Elizabeth's first year of matrimony must have looked like. Jane, Charles, Darcy and all the others will entertain you throughout this story, as I will attempt my very best to remain faithful to Jane Austen.

However, I find it necessary to state the obvious at least once: I am not Jane Austen, I am not a 19th century female writer, and I am most certainly not of her calibre. I'm simply enjoying this way too much.

Disclaimer: I wish I owned that much spirit and talent but I sadly do not, I'm just messing around with hers.

Enjoy!

Elizabeth Bennet's first spring in Derbyshire was by no means an idle one, as there was much to be done in the wake of a particularly wet winter. Resilient patches of snow still clung to the trees wherever the sun did not dare reach, and the contrast with the return of the green fields enchanted the inhabitants of Pemberley. Elizabeth's favorite sister, Mrs. Jane Bingley, née Bennet, was expecting hers and Charles' firstborn and she did not dare accompany her sister on her regular walk this morning.

Mr. Darcy having locked himself in his study for the best part of the morning, Elizabeth, determined to exercise, had thus decided that if she was to enjoy her walk on her own, then she might as well first go by the stables to check on the new offspring of her husband's hunting hounds. His oldest one, Regent, was the proud father of five young pups each more energetic then the last, and he greeted Elizabeth with an excited bark when she entered the comfort of the stables. At the moment, the pups were very busy rummaging through the hay in what Elizabeth imagined must have been a contest for which could make the biggest mess of it.

The crisp morning air welcomed her outside and she wrapped her shawl tightly around her shoulders, pondering which way she should like to go. On her left, the smooth green hills so characteristic of Derbyshire looked inviting, but too far, and the midday meal was near. On her right, a forest path leading to Pemberley woods appeared as the safest option. Eyeing the gray sky suspiciously, Elizabeth started walking briskly, Bee, another one of Pemberley's ever increasing dog population, trotting by her side. She was a young, adventurous dog, of Regent's first litter and had taken a liking to the mistress of the house — a very reciprocal one, and Elizabeth never missed to take Bee with her during her morning walks.

—

As the rain drew nearer, Elizabeth climbed up the main entrance stairs two by two, Bee by her side, and was greeted by the promising smell of a warm meal, encountering Mrs. Reynolds on her way down to the kitchens, she promptly asked her how her newest grandson was faring. The little one was born four weeks too early and had given everyone a great fright as his arrival in the world was rather traumatizing for his poor mother. Fortunately, the little chap seemed to have survived the winter as well as any of them had, and was just starting to babble happily to everyone and anyone in his direct vicinity.

Spring was palpable both in the air and the atmosphere: timid buds appeared on the trees, grass made its much awaited appearance after months of frost and snow, birds were joyfully chirping, Regent and Beauty's litter made a point of creating a mess of the stables, and Jane's round belly seemed to grow an inch every day. Indeed, Elizabeth could not decide which season she favored. Winter and its cold, white beauty; Spring in all its rebirth; Summer and its bright colors or Autumn with its melancholic wind bearing the news of colder times to come, rustling red, orange and yellow leaves. Pemberley was beautiful to behold at any given time of the year but she had to admit that its magnificence under a thick layer of snow rivaled the peacefulness of the upcoming summer nights. Given the fact that Elizabeth was to meet her first nephew or niece this summer, she knew she preferred this season to the rest, for this year at least.

'What has you so quiet, Lizzy?' said Jane as she entered the dining hall, where she found her younger sister deep in thought by the window.

'Springtime' answered Elizabeth, in her own cryptic manner.

'There are certainly joys to spring that make one long for even warmer days, particularly after such a winter. I heard that some of the cottages down by the woods really did suffer from the frost. Is it true that Mr. Howland's roof gave way under the weight of the snow?'

'Sadly, yes. He and his wife have two young children and feared their daughter might have been trapped underneath, but, fortunately, she was out and about collecting small wood when it happened.'

'Fate was kind in this instance, but I shiver just imagining what could have happened otherwise' sighed Jane, softly caressing her belly.

Elizabeth smiled to herself. Jane was going to be the most annoying of mother hens in all England once her baby was born. She would have to make sure her poor niece or nephew could rely on their aunt for some amusement.

'Have you and Fitzwilliam decided on when exactly am I to be blessed with my share of amusement, but without the responsibility?' Jane asked, the very picture of innocence. She must have read her thoughts.

'That, my dear sister, I'm afraid neither he nor I can decide' said Elizabeth, laughing. 'Rest assured you will be the first to know.'

'I do hope I will be the first informed in such joyous instance, my dear' intervened her husband, standing by the door, a grin gracing his severe features. 'After all, he or she will be my very own share of amusement and responsibility.'

Yes, spring and its joys had touched the halls of Pemberley, and, whatever Lady Catherine de Bourgh thought, never was pollution and sorrow further from its noble shades.

Do not fear, I have much more in store, but as I said, it's an introductory chapter, as well as a first try-out for me. Please tell me, especially if you happen to be an expert in English Literature, Jane Austen or otherwise more experienced than I, whether this style of writing - more formal, but not pompous, at least I hope - suits the characters and story.

Be nice: Jane Austen's writing is impeccable and I am but a mere Darcy-Lizzy hardcore shipper trying to give P&P yet another sequel.