Hello everyone!

This is a rewrite and a new life given to a fanfiction I was writing a long time ago under a different username. If you have seen the update from the original story, welcome, I hope you enjoy. If this is your first time seeing this, welcome as well. I am excited to write this and the overwhelming reviews from the original asking me to write it spurred me on and here we are chapter one.

Now a few things have changed from the original, but they are for the better.

And I would also like to point out that I'm not a regency expert. I will make mistakes with dialogue, terminology, and how life was lived back then. If those type of mistakes annoy you then I would suggest not to read this. As it is a fanfiction I believe that it doesn't need to be perfect, this is supposed to be a bit of fun and enjoyment for those of us who love the original and enjoy seeing what people can do with talented writer's characters.

Anyway, of my rambles.

ENJOY!

Chapter One

Elizabeth's Point of View

Spring was nearing its end, the last few sprinkles of blooming flowers and crisp mornings that would still nip at your nose were making way for the warm evening walks and cravings of a cold iced tea. With the new season about to arrive, London would once again fill with tourists, businessmen and families as the warmest season would overtake the ever-growing city and bring about new life and opportunities for all.

It was the same every year, families would flock to the busy streets of London town to shop and explore the wonders that were hidden between its tall houses and cobbled streets. Night or day, it would not matter, the city would lively and thriving with endless wonders to be found.

Many stayed to enjoy such excitement, but I was one of the few who took the chance to look for a greener pasture. And not the metaphoric kind. I craved to be able to spend my hot summer afternoons in the shade of a large tree beside a lake or a pond, or maybe even surrounded by horses while enjoying my lastest read. The city of London did not cater to that desire, and no matter how wonderful it was to meet new people and discover all sorts of foods and hear of the adventures people had taken, the thriving countryside was busy calling out to me.

I had been fortunate enough to be blessed with a family that provided opportunities to experience both the wonders of London and the serenity of the countryside.

My father had not been born into wealth but had managed to make himself so. He had worked hard through his youth to further his education by working tirelessly, and once he had succeeded and become a lawyer, he continued his striving for success and a comfortable life. He had been lucky enough to meet my mother, fall in love and marry; which was rare, and so it made it that much more of a fairy tale. The life he was able to provide for my mother and I meant that I was granted many opportunities that most daughters, whose father was not born with a title or land, were able to get. I had the best education, was proficient in music as well as drawing, and been able to enjoy many of my hearts desires.

The home my father had purchased, not long after I was born, was a beautiful townhome in the centre of London. It was a short ride to my father's practice, and we were also surrounded by my father's clients and friends. It was a privileged life and one I was glad to have been given.

But no matter how much I loved London and the people who lived there, I missed exploring. I missed the overgrown paths, towering trees, and moss-covered rocks. The adventure of it all had once upon time remained inside the books I had read but after a few visits to Hertfordshire, visiting my father sister and her family, I had discovered that my dreams of green fields and blue than blue skies was not just on paper. I found myself returning to Hertfordshire almost every year since my thirteenth birthday. My mother would accompany up until I turned sixteen, and from then on would I would make the journey myself.

My relationship with my cousins was a close one and I had grown extremely fond of the eldest of my cousins, Jane. She was the kindest girl I had ever met and had always encouraged me. I also had an incredible connection with Mary, she was the second eldest and very talented with the piano. We had bonded over music over the years, and even though she was shy and reserved, once she warmed up, she was a delight. My other two cousins, Catherine and Lydia, were instead a handful. Loud and obnoxious, the two had a rather nasty habit of embarrassing themselves in front of friends and strangers alike. My poor uncle, who was a kind but reserved man, spent most of his time apologising and hiding in his study. My aunt was definitely a unique woman. She was my father's sister, but the two were nothing alike. My mother had told me growing up that my father had practically begged my uncle to marry her. He feared for what lay ahead for my aunt if no one would take her. I had always wanted to ask my uncle if he regretted his decision in marrying her. My aunt was exceedingly blunt, and that is the politest way to put it. She was often put off by others success and wealth; in her eyes, the only thing that mattered was marrying her four daughters off to men of high stations so that they could enjoy the life she was deprived of. Her words, not mine.

I did pity Jane, Mary and my uncle for having to live with such people, but they were family and no matter how hard they pushed me, I would always try and be supportive anyway I could.

It was one of the reasons, besides getting to enjoy some fresh air, that I returned to the Longbourne estate ever summer. I would spend time with my cousins and encourage them, try to show them some direction and maybe even instil some propriety. Every year I had hoped for the best, even if the outcome was slim.

The year of my twentieth birthday was no exception. My travel plans had been arranged, my bags packed and a letter sent off to Jane to inform her I would be seeing her in a few days. My father had organised a carriage, and my mother had double checked everything to make sure I was prepared.

It was the day before I left and I found myself sitting in my room on the window seat with my legs comfortably tucked underneath me. A book was in my hand, and my nose was buried so far into the pages that I had not heard the knock on the door or it open. It was only my mother pulling the book from my grasp that alerted her to my presence.

I had jumped, not expecting my book to be pulled away. "Mother!" I cried. "You startled me."

My mother smiled and placed her hand across her mouth, trying to conceal the humour that flooded her cheeks. "I apologise my dear." She handed me back my book and sat down on the seat beside me. "Frightening you was never my intention."

I pursed my lips and said, "I am not so sure."

My mother just smiled and placed her hand on my knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Was there something you need?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "Mr Wickham had invited us all over for dinner tonight. It is late notice, but he wishes to celebrate his new employment." The grin on my mother's face said it all.

Mr Wickham was a young man whom I had been well acquainted with for the past six years. My father had met him at a point in Mr Wickham's life when he had lost everything and was about to become homeless. My father, believing that Mr Wickham had great potential, took him under his wing. He employed Mr Wickham to work at his practice, cleaning and running errands for him. And while he worked, Mr Wickham returned to his studies, something he had previously lost sight of. Mr Wickham had spent these last six years studying to become a lawyer, and worked his way up through my father's practice and was now working alongside my father rather than under him.

Mr Wickham, just like my father had stated, was intelligent and quick-witted. He was fast on his feet and a quick thinker and in my father's eyes, the best option for my future husband. After Mr Wickham's success, it was not long until my mother agreed with my father's opinion of the matter.

I had nothing personally against Mr Wickham, I enjoyed his company and thought that he was a rather agreeable man. But there were many things I wanted that I was uncertain if he could give me. The idea of falling in love, just like my parents had, and just like many characters did in books, had me dreaming about what possibilities I had of it happening to me. I knew it would make my parents incredibly happy, but there was no need to worry too much about it until, or even if, Mr Wickham ever proposed.

"I already told you that I am having dinner with Melinda and her family. It has been planned for the last two weeks." I pulled my legs from beneath me and stood to return the book in my hand to the shelf.

"Melinda will understand. You girls see once another almost daily," said my mother.

I frowned. "Mother, please. I know how fond you and father are of Mr Wickham, but if anyone else invited us to dinner at such late notice, you would be cursing them until we arrived on their doorstep."

My mother stood and pouted. "I would never."

I could not help my giggle at her response. "Tell Mr Wickham that I am grateful for the invitation, but I am otherwise engaged."

My mother conceded and nodded her head. "Very well, however, when you return from Longbourn I expect that you will make more of an effort to be better acquainted with Mr Wickham."

My frown returned. "Mother," I moaned. I had the temptation to stamp my foot like a child but did not. "I have made it clear that while Mr Wickham is an agreeable man, I will not be forced into any sort of forced arrangement."

"I am not saying you must marry him, Elizabeth, but how do you even know if he is unsuitable unless you spend time with him," my mother argued.

I returned to my seat at the window and sighed. "I never said I did not wish to know Mr Wickham. But you trying to force us together is as bad as forcing me to marry him."

My mother reached out and took my hand. "I do not mean to upset you, Lizzy."

I smiled at the affection nickname.

"I only want you to be safe and well cared for."

I squeezed my mother's hand. "I know."

It was a common conversation that my mother and I repeated regularly. Her concerns over my future, my desires to make my own choices. It was unusual, many parents would pick a husband and send their daughter on their merry way. It was a blessing that my parents had decided I was wise enough to make my own choices.

"Madeleine, Elizabeth, Mr Wickham is expecting us at five o'clock." My father's voice echoed up the stairs.

My mother squeezed my hand. "I will let your father know that you will not be attending with us."

"Thank you," I said.

I had never fully taken the time to consider how I truly felt about Mr Wickham. There had never been a moment that had caught me by surprise or a stir in my stomach that would keep me up at night. He was a well mannered kind man who had done so much to improve his circumstances over the past six years. He would certainly not be the first choice for most fathers, but I felt that he would be able to make at least one woman very happy. I had no clue if that woman would be me or not.

The next morning, I was dressed, well-fed, and ready to head off on my journey. I had enjoyed a wonderful evening with Melinda and her family, we had played a few card games and sung a few songs. It had been a welcomed distraction from my mother and father's obsession with Mr Wickham.

I had returned home no later than ten and after a brief conversation with my parents, and their comments on how sad Mr Wickham was that I had not been in attendance, I went to bed with a small amount of annoyance. It was gone by morning, knowing that my parents wished nothing but the best for me, and I was ready for my journey.

"Is this the last bag, Miss Gardiner?" asked Mrs Burch.

I smiled and nodded. "Yes, thank you."

Mrs Burch was our housekeeper. She was a widowed woman in her early fifties we a nack of snapping orders and getting things done exactly how my parents desired. She had been a constant companion throughout my childhood and had blessed me with many books that had filled my dreams with adventure.

"Would you like a cup of tea before you set off?" Mrs Burch gestured towards the kitchen.

I shook my head. "I'm still full from your wonderful breakfast, so no thank you."

Mrs Burch nodded but seemed unsatisfied.

"I will only be gone for two months, Mrs Burch. You will not even miss me." I took two steps towards her and reached out for her hands.

Mrs Burch took my grasp and squeezed them. "You are right of course." She smiled but a tear escaped her eye. "I can enjoy some peace and quiet."

I chuckled. "That you can."

"Elizabeth, my dear. Your father is late." My mother stepped into the sitting room while fanning herself.

"I can wait a few more minutes," I said. My father had run down to his office to hand off a few critical documents that could no wait. He had planned to make it back to big me farewell but more than likely he had been stuck there by another urgent matter.

"No, my dear. I would like for you to reach your stop before the sun sets." My mother placed her hand on my lower back and turned me towards the door. "Your father would insist that you leave." She was right, of course.

Outside, I hugged my mother and Mrs Burch before climbing into the carriage. I smiled at them and waved. The carriage had just started to move when I heard my father yell out. "Elizabeth!" The carriage stopped and my father's head appeared at the door.

I smiled. "You are late," I said.

My father nodded. "Yes, again."

I giggled and reached out to take his hand.

"You travel safe, and write to us as soon as you arrive at Longbourn."

I smiled and nodded. It was the same speech every year, and my mother had already given it to me twice before I had made it out of my bed that morning. "I promise."

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too, Father."

He stepped back and allowed the carriage to move. I stuck my hand out the window and waved. I was excited to see my cousins but I would miss my parents.

As we neared the end of my street, I noticed Mr Wickham standing on the corner looking directly at me. He offered a gentle smile and a wave, the latter of which I returned. He disappeared from view and I could not help but think about my parent's wishes. I was curious if Mr Wickham wished to marry me; there had never been any intention made or any gestures, but that may just mean he was polite.

Regardless of what was happening at home, the next two months would be spent in the countryside with my cousins, and I would welcome the distraction of their lives.