"From the very beginning – from the first moment, I may almost say – of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others…" The words played through his mind for what must have been the thousandth time since Easter. Each remembrance accompanied by the memory of the look of disdain in her eyes and the sharpness of her tone as she hurled her stinging words at him, rejecting his suit. Rejecting him. Each remembrance further twisting the knife that had been lodged in his chest since that fateful evening at Hunsford.

Groaning, he stood from his desk and strode to the window of his study. Nursing the glass of brandy in his hand, he leaned against the sill and watched the people and carriages passing on the street below. With every letter of business he had written that day, he could not suppress the sharp pain he felt in his chest each time he wrote the date. This date. Once again, his mind retreated back into the memories of where he was on this date one year ago.

He had found himself standing in the drawing room at Lucas Lodge, begrudgingly attending to a conversation between a member of the Lucas family, who he really did not remember, and Mr. Hurst. While they entertained themselves discussing the local sport, Mr. Darcy had found himself instead entertaining himself with watching Miss Elizabeth as she laughed with her good friend Miss Lucas by the refreshments table.

By that night, she had come to dominate his thoughts, and he had only truly allowed Charles to convince him to attend that night because he knew it would afford him the opportunity to once again be in Miss Elizabeth's presence. He had spent the day leading up to the soiree carefully selecting a variety of topics that he could use to engage the young lady in conversation and had spent the first two hours of the gathering trying to find an opportunity to do just that. However, fate did not appear to be in his favor that evening and he had begun to despair that he would not have the chance to talk to her.

Imagine his surprise then when Sir Lucas himself had finally managed to accomplish the task for him. He could still remember the way his heart raced and his body came alive with excitement when Sir Lucas presented her hand to him in an offer to dance. And he felt equally dejected when she had stated that she had no intention of dancing and quickly excused herself from their company. It had been the only chance he had that evening to engage her attention and it failed miserably. It had been the first of many more rejections yet to come.

The sounds of shouting from the street below pulled Mr. Darcy from his reverie, and he watched with little interest as two passing coach drivers yelled at each other to be more attentive to where they were driving. With another sigh, he pushed himself away from the window and went to the cabinet to replenish his drink. Returning to his desk, he pulled another clean sheet of stationary out of his desk and began to write.

"I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry."

Dropping the pen, he quickly pushed himself back from the desk and paced the room. This would not do. He could not, on today of all days, find either solitude or peace in the quiet emptiness of Darcy House. He knew that remaining at home and being left to his thoughts would simply serve to drive him mad. Emptying his glass, he left his study and walked towards the main entrance of his home where a footman, with all the skill and grace expected of a servant in the employ of the Darcy family, quickly retrieved his coat and hat. With a nod of appreciation, Mr. Darcy walked out the front door of his home, deciding that the company to be found at White's would provide the distraction he so desperately needed.

She now stood before him, a piece of chattel being dangled before the lowliest of men as they competed for the opportunity to ruin her. At first, Mr. Darcy tried to convince his eyes that they were deceiving him. It simply was not possible! How could Miss Elizabeth, the gentle born daughter of a respectable landowning gentleman be on the auction block in a seedy London brothel? But yet, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was indeed his heart's desire that stood upon that block. Her form, which he had always found light and pleasing, appeared paltry but it was still the same figure that he had found so enchanting as he had watch her moved through the figures of country dances. Those were indeed the same chocolate locks which had tormented his dreams every night for the past year, and the fine and delicate features of her face, though currently frozen with fear, he knew better than his own.

"And a sixpence!"

"A shilling!"

The scramble and tense excitement surrounding the auction served to quickly sober Mr. Darcy's inebriated mind. With each passing breath, the bids were rising and Miss Elizabeth's fate was coming closer and closer to being sealed. How she had found herself in such a place he did not know nor, to be perfectly honest, did he care. All he knew was that he had to act and quickly. Reaching into his pocket, he found that he had plenty of blunt, but then he was sure so did many of the lecherous bidders clamoring for the opportunity to deflower an innocent.

"A florin!" He heard Edward shout from beside him. Turning to his cousin, he quickly grabbed his arm and demanded that Edward give him all the money he had with him.

"I beg your pardon!"

"Now, Edward. Let me what you have. I will repay you on the morrow," he demanded and went so far as to reach into his cousin's coat to retrieve his money purse.

While Edward was never known to be the quick-witted one in the family, it did not take him more than a few seconds to realize what his cousin was about. Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, the Scion of Morality and All Things Proper, was desperate to purchase the moll. With a genuine laugh of surprise, Edward allowed his cousin to take his purse and determined that he would do right by Darcy and help him win the girl. "As you wish, Darcy." With a condescending smirk and lewd wink, he turned his attention back to the front of the room and called out in a loud, clear voice that brooked no opposition, "Twenty pounds!"

The effect was immediate. At once, the room fell into silence and Edward made his way through the crowd until he was standing before Madame Amelia, who needless to say wore an expression of such surprise that he could not help but laugh. "Have we a deal, madam?"

Finally finding her voice, Madame Amelia glanced up at the young woman before turning her attention back to the crowd. "I have twenty pounds. Does anyone wish to bid more?" After waiting a few moments and realizing that this was indeed the highest offer, she declared the auction closed and signaled for the footman to remove her from the block and the room. Turning back to her new favorite customer, Madame Amelia smiled and slipped her hand around Edward's arm and led him towards the door. "If you will, Sir, we shall just prepare her for your visit. She will be ready for you in say a quarter hour?"

"She is not for me, madam. She is, in fact, a gift for my cousin."

Mr. Darcy was still standing where Edward had left him, lingering at the back of the room as the rest of the gentlemen filed out to return to the drawing rooms in search of alternative entertainment for the evening. Still feeling dazed and confused over all that had occurred, he simply stared at the pair as they sauntered towards him. Upon reaching him, Edward held out his hand, indicating that he needed his purse, and with all the flourish that such a transaction entails handed the twenty pounds to Madame Amelia and thanked her for her services.

"As I was saying to your dear cousin, we only need a few moments to prepare her for you. Please help yourself to some of our excellent brandy in the blue room and I will fetch you in a quarter hour." With that, she curtsied and followed the last of the gentlemen out of the room.

"Come, Darcy. Let us have a toast to that lovely little filly whose bed you will be warming tonight." As he led Mr. Darcy towards the door, he added, "Oh, and let me a couple of guineas. You should not be the only one enjoying such lovely company, and it is the least you could do to repay my kindness."


For those unfamiliar with Regency Era economics, a handy guide to the cost of living in Regency England is available at JaneAustensWorld on Wordpress.