Hello my dears! I know what you're thinking - why is Christine posting something new when she hasn't updated her P&P/NA crossover?

Unfortunately, it's because I am solidly blocked on that one. It's definitely a story I still want to tell, and I have ideas for it rolling around in my head, but I just can't seem to get my brain to process those ideas into words. Admittedly, I began to despair of being able to meet the tentative publication date for my next book - I want to have something ready to publish on January 15 because that will be my 10-year publishing anniversary. Not for JAFF works, but from my very first foray in self-publishing, which was an urban fantasy with vampires in it, written under my real name. Haven't sold a copy of that book in years, or its sequel, but still want to finish the series one day because I just don't like leaving things unfinished.

Anyhoo, January 15, 2022 will be ten years from the first time I clicked that "Publish" button on Amazon's Kindle Direct Publishing platform, and I have been really hopeful of having a new book to publish on that day to celebrate. When I became stumped on Born to be a Heroine so soon after starting on it, I got worried I wouldn't meet my goal. Then out of the blue, about a week ago now, I got a wild idea for a new story, and for whatever reason, my Muse decided to run with it. I've written ten chapters in only a week, and am about halfway through the 11th - and seeing as I have three months still in which to finish it, I feel cautiously optimistic that it won't take me that long.

And friends, I am really excited about this one. I hope you will be as well. ~ CC

EDIT: Chapter replaced 10/18/21

Pemberley, 1807

Fitzwilliam Darcy had no idea his return home after a year-long tour of the Continent would lead to his falling in love.

It was an imprudent love—one his father would label an infatuation. He was a young man just achieving his majority, and the girl a pretty little thing with fine, dark eyes and a ready smile.

Darcy saw much more than that in Elizabeth Gardiner. She was also intelligent and witty, and when they became further acquainted, she was not afraid to tease him on the rare occasion they were alone together. He found her self-confidence and vivacity refreshing, and a very welcome change from the society debutantes whose company he had been forced too often to endure by his parents or noble relations. It was difficult enough endeavoring to overcome the awkwardness he tended to feel when pressed to attend some social function or other where he was all but surrounded by strangers, but young ladies simpering behind their fans when not offering coy smiles or batting eyelashes made it exceptionally difficult to determine whether they sought his company because they liked him, or because their parents liked the connection to his family a marriage would afford.

Elizabeth didn't care about any of that; she judged a person based on who they were, not what they had. She well understood her station in life—she was the daughter of a respected tradesman, whose charm and amiable character had prompted his mother to offer her the position of companion to Darcy's much younger sister, Georgiana. She also well understood his place in society—it was their differences that had, at first, kept her from accepting his overtures of friendship after they had been introduced. Multiple times she had reminded him that "the heir to a great estate does not purposely keep company with a servant in his house" even though she was not, technically, a servant. Darcy knew this well enough to not need the reminder, but when every attempt to remove her from his thoughts utterly failed, he came to recognize that her resistance to his efforts, her indifference to those charms which generally drew attention to him, were a great part of what attracted him to her.

That, and the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman could bestow. Darcy felt he could never get enough of looking into those eyes.

Eventually, the sixteen-year-old Elizabeth began to warm to him, and the greater part of the summer was spent in trying to find time to be together out from under the watchful eyes of his parents, her parents, or the servants. He enjoyed not only gazing upon her lovely face but also stimulating her mind in the way she stimulated his. They shared a passion for reading, and often their discussions were over what books each had read. If one had read a book the other had not, the title was recommended and on their next meeting, they would discuss it. Other shared interests were philosophy and art, and they both liked music. Little opportunity existed to enjoy it at the same time lest they both attended one of his sister's lessons or sat to listen to her practice—both agreed that Georgiana was exceptionally gifted at the pianoforte.

It was a late evening, during stolen time under an old willow tree, when Darcy—after passionately kissing Elizabeth—asked her to marry him.

Sitting back from him, she stared with wide eyes. "You cannot mean it, Fitzwilliam."

"Indeed, I am in earnest," he replied. "I want you for my wife, Elizabeth. I want you to be the mother of my children—we will fill Pemberley's halls with children!"

Elizabeth smiled. "I should like that very much, my love. But what of your parents? Your uncle the earl? What will they say when you tell them your choice of bride is your sister's paid companion?"

Darcy just stopped himself saying he didn't care what they thought. The truth was, he did—the approval of his family was very important to him. But against all common sense, he had fallen in love with a girl below his station—and really, was not his happiness more important than her lack of fortune?

His momentary silence led to the fall of Elizabeth's happy countenance. "Oh, Fitzwilliam," said she as she took his hand in hers. "I know why you do not speak—they would never consent, your family. A match between us is beyond imprudent."

She looked away, and he heard her sniffle. "What fools we have been to allow ourselves to indulge in fantasy."

When a tear slid down her alabaster cheek, Darcy shook free of his reverie and reached for her. Almost crushing her to his chest, he stroked her hair as she quietly sobbed at his shoulder.

"Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, I will find a way for us to be together," he said into her hair. "I promise you, I will think of something."

-…-

"Lizzy, are you listening to me?"

Blinking, Elizabeth looked up from the book she hadn't had much success in reading to find her mother gazing at her with some concern.

"I am sorry, Mamma, I did not hear you. What was your question?"

Marjorie Gardiner lifted an eyebrow in curiosity. "I asked after your plans for the day, but I see you are determined to spend it with your head in the clouds."

Elizabeth felt an embarrassed flush fill her cheeks. "I am sorry, Mamma. I've a lot on my mind, I'm afraid. I cannot even concentrate on this book."

As companion to Miss Darcy, Elizabeth was granted a whole day to herself once a week. Sunday was that day, and she always chose to spend it at home with her parents. Mr. Gardiner, her father, was the proprietor of the general store in Lambton, the village where he had met her mother. He had not cared for the occupation of his own father, but in that of his wife's he had thrived, and when the ailing Mr. Jones had passed away, he took over management of the business. Mrs. Gardiner had been pleased by having no need to work, and so had dedicated herself to their only daughter's education and the efficient management of her home.

Mr. Gardiner went into the store after church every week to inventory his stock—the store was closed, and without customers to tend to, he could get it done faster. He always said that he believed God would forgive him this small bit of labor on the Sabbath, for his efforts were done to give his family more of his time during the week. While Mrs. Gardiner worked on samplers, Elizabeth had intended to read, write letters…anything that might distract her from Darcy's promise. He'd sworn a week ago that he would think of a way for them to be together, but he'd thus far come up with nothing. In fact, they'd hardly spoken since that day, which was unusual. Since she had accepted his attentions, Darcy had found a way to speak to her at least once every day.

She could not help but wonder if all their wanting was for naught…if she had been foolish to believe in him. After all, he was the son of a very rich man, and his uncle was an earl. Could she really trust that their walks together, their talk about books and music—their stolen kisses—would lead to a respectful marriage? Her, a paid companion, as the future Mistress of Pemberley?

Elizabeth was startled when her mother suddenly moved to sit beside her. Mrs. Gardiner took her hand and, looking intently into her eyes, said in a low voice, "Elizabeth, you know how much your father and I love you and want what is best for you. How much we dream of a better life for you than one of servitude. But dearest… I must caution you most strongly not to set your cap too high. Though it seems your father and the Darcys have been, I have not been blind to your admiration for young Mr. Darcy, nor his for you. I know you and he have engaged in assignations. But he is a Darcy and a Fitzwilliam, and it is a fool's hope to believe in whatever promises he may have made to you. That boy will never marry you."

Her mother knew. Of course, her mother knew—how could she not? The Gardiners had only two servants of their own, but those two were acquainted with several of those at Pemberley, the Darcys' home, and their mistress often listened to their prattle when they thought her ignorant. Though they had endeavored to be secretive, Elizabeth knew there was no real way she and Darcy could have prevented their meetings from becoming known to someone—and it only took one bloody servant opening their mouth for the others to begin talking.

A sob lodged in her throat as tears pooled in her eyes. "Mamma, I love him," she whispered.

Mrs. Gardiner smiled sadly as she lifted a hand to caress her cheek. "I do not doubt it, my girl, for he is a very fine young man. And with all my heart, I desperately wish it were possible for you to have your heart's desire. I wish it were possible for him to be free to choose a tradesman's daughter for a wife, but he cannot. Even if his feelings for you are genuine, the expectations of his family—the duty he owes to them, to his station… Young Mr. Darcy will never be allowed to lower himself to marrying his daughter's companion."

The sob at last escaped, and Mrs. Gardiner drew Elizabeth to her as she began to cry. "What a fool I have been, Mamma," she said tearfully. "I tried not to love him—did not even want to like him—but he… He has been so kind to me, so sweet, so generous… He told me he loves me, that he would find a way for us to be together, but you are right—there is no way. They'll never allow it. I must love him in vain, and die a spinster with a broken heart."

"Dearest, you are far too young to give up all hope of happiness," her mother replied.

"But how can I hope to be happy, Mamma, when I shall be forced to see him every day?" Elizabeth cried. "I could not bear to see him take another to wife."

Mrs. Gardiner drew a breath and released it slowly, then encouraged Elizabeth to sit straight and dry her tears. "I know you were honored to have been asked to be Miss Darcy's companion—do not think your father and I ignorant of the distinction—but given the circumstances, I do think it would be best to get you away from Pemberley. Time apart from young Mr. Darcy will do its office in weakening the bond between you. You'll both be able to move on and marry within your own spheres."

"But where can I go, Mamma?"

"Your father has family we can beg the assistance of," Mrs. Gardiner replied slowly.

Elizabeth's eyes widened at this revelation. "Papa has family still living? Why have I never been told of them? Where are they—who are they?"

Mrs. Gardiner drew another deep breath and patted Elizabeth's hand. "I know your father has told you that your grandfather Gardiner was an attorney, but what you may not know is that your father worked for a time as a clerk in his office alongside a friend of his, a Mr. Phillips—who, I believe, married one of your father's sisters. But my husband found no satisfaction in law, so left home to seek his fortune by other means. It was some months after leaving that he found his way to Lambton and agreed to work for my father—and another year before my father would grant his blessing to Mr. Gardiner marrying me."

"So I have an uncle and aunt called Mr. and Mrs. Phillips, and Papa has another sister?" Elizabeth asked.

Her mother nodded. "Your father is the eldest of them. Second is his sister Mrs. Phillips, and the youngest sister married fairly well to a gentleman called Bennet. I believe you've some cousins by the latter."

"Goodness gracious! How can I have so many relations and not have known it all this time? Why did you and Papa never tell me of them?" Elizabeth wondered.

"Forgive us, dearest, for it was not from any intent to deceive that we said nothing," said Mrs. Gardiner. "The truth is, though their relationship was good your father has not spoken with his siblings in several years—sadly, families sometimes lose touch with one another. And our lives have hardly been empty without their influence, dear. We both of us have several good friends."

Elizabeth huffed but nodded acquiescence. "Very well, Mamma." She paused, drawing a breath of her own; a few more tears fell as she regarded her mother, then said, "Do you really think going away is the best course?"

"I certainly do not want you to go, but yes, I think it will be for the best," Mrs. Gardiner replied. "I know it will be hard for you, my love, but the only chance you have of being happy is to leave Pemberley and put this flirtation with Fitzwilliam Darcy behind you. I shall speak to your father about writing to his brother Bennet to ask if you may stay with his family for a time."

As her mother embraced her, Elizabeth felt her heart crack into a countless number of pieces. She was giving up on Fitzwilliam Darcy, whom she loved most ardently. Who she had for many weeks believed was the only man who could ever make her happy.

-…-

Darcy paced under the willow tree—their willow tree—waiting for her. Hoping she got the note and not one of her parents. He knew they would approve of his relationship with Elizabeth no more than his own parents would. They'd tell their daughter to give up any hope of his marrying her. That he was too far above her station.

It was true, of course. He and Elizabeth both knew that was how society viewed things. But it wasn't how they viewed things—not anymore. He loved her. She loved him.

To Darcy, that their attachment was genuine was all that mattered. He had enough money for both of them.

He whirled as the branches rustled behind him; Elizabeth was here. He'd hoped that she would come to him at the start of her daily walk and not the end of it, and nearly ran as he crossed to her and took her in his arms, pressing his lips to hers. She stiffened, resisted for a moment, then melted into him and returned his passion with equal fervor.

"My love," he said when at last they parted for breath. "Whatever is the matter? Did your mother or father try to prevent you from going out?"

Elizabeth shook her head, but wouldn't meet his eye. "No, neither tried to stop me leaving the house."

"Then what is it? Something has happened, I can tell."

At last she looked up, and he noted tears in her eyes. "Fitzwilliam, what are we doing?" she asked. "This is madness—you and I both know that your family will never approve of me."

"What happened?" he pressed again.

Elizabeth sighed. "Mamma spoke to me yesterday," she confessed. "She is aware of my attachment to you but reminded me that a match between us is unlikely to be accepted. She said I should not set my hope of happiness so far above my station."

Darcy lifted her chin with his finger until their gazes met. "My love, did I not promise you I would think of something?"

"Fitzwilliam, what can we do?!" Elizabeth cried, pushing away from him. "We are fools, blinded by our passion and the impetuosity of our youth!"

"Gretna Green."

She spun back to him, her shock evident. Darcy stepped closer and took her hands in his. "Lizzy, I have it all planned! In fact, we really must be going if we hope to put enough distance between us that no one will catch us and prevent our marrying over the anvil."

"Fitzwilliam, you're not serious!" Elizabeth said.

Darcy nodded, his face split with a huge grin. "I am. Call me an impetuous youth if you like—I call myself a man in love! If we go now and marry in Scotland, my family will have no choice but to accept you."

"Your father will disinherit you, surely," she suggested.

"Unlikely. I am his only son, and Georgiana is still a child," Darcy replied. "The family will be angry, I do not doubt, but when we are married it will not matter! Now come, George is waiting, and likely to be getting very nervous."

"You mean the steward's son?"

"I sometimes forget you have been my sister's companion for less than a year," Darcy said as he took her by the hand and began to lead her away from the tree. "Yes, I mean George Wickham. Though he is the son of one of our servants, he has been a friend since my childhood—my father is his godfather. That is how I just know that our marriage will be accepted once my parents realize it cannot be undone."

He paused then and turned back to her. "Do you not want to marry me, Elizabeth?"

Darcy stumbled back a few steps when she threw herself at him forcefully, wrapping her arms tightly about his waist. "Oh, Fitzwilliam, of course I want to marry you! I want to be your wife more than anything else in all the world! I'm sorry, I just got scared when you seemed to be avoiding me this last week, and then my mother spoke yesterday of sending me away so I could get over you—"

Darcy silenced her by pressing a finger to her lips. "Forgive me for causing you to doubt," he said. "Had you gone away, I would only have followed you."

Elizabeth smiled brilliantly and hummed happily as he took her hand again and led her toward where their transportation waited.

"Fitzwilliam, you said you planned for this all last week, yes?"

He chuckled. "Not in those words, but yes. Why do you ask?"

"Well, by that I assume you have a trunk with a few days' worth of clothes for yourself, or a bag packed, but what about me?" Elizabeth pressed. "If we leave now, I shall have nothing to wear but this one dress!"

"Not true, my love!" Darcy replied with a laugh. "Did not you take my sister into Kympton on Wednesday last to be measured for three new gowns—and did not my mother gift you the funds to commission three new gowns for yourself also?"

"Yes. They were to be ready this afternoon, but you know Miss Darcy was unwell today. I had planned to take her there again tomorrow to collect them if she is feeling better."

"Not necessary—I sent George for them already. He claimed my sister's also so as not to arouse suspicion; yours are in the trunk with my things," Darcy told her.

"Goodness, Fitzwilliam, you really do have it all planned!" said Elizabeth with a laugh.

Several minutes' walk let them to a little-used trail that ran through the woods, which Darcy then led Elizabeth along at a fast clip. She asked where they were headed, and he informed her that he had told his father he would be at the hunting cabin for a night or two, and that was where his friend waited.

"That covers you, my dear," said she, "but not me. When I don't return from my walk, someone is bound to come looking for me."

"Ah, but I have covered that as well," Darcy said. "In front of my father, I asked Wickham to fetch you and take you to Kympton to pick up the gowns you commissioned, as Georgiana has been eager to see them; I said having them early might brighten her spirits. That will take you some time, surely."

Elizabeth laughed again. "Your sister has been rather vocal in her excitement about the gowns. I'm only sorry you had to involve her in this scheme, even peripherally."

"As am I, but she will forgive us. You know she adores you."

It seemed forever before they finally arrived at the cabin, where Darcy and Elizabeth found Wickham pacing before the chaise.

"It's about bloody time!" he cried. "I was beginning to wonder if your father saw through our ruse or something."

The young man, who was Darcy's junior by one year, looked to Elizabeth with a smile. "'Ello, Miss Gardiner. Must say, I never thought stodgy old Darcy here would be willing to elope with a maid."

Elizabeth stiffened beside him. "I am not a maid, sir," she said. "I am Miss Darcy's companion."

Wickham laughed. "So you get paid more for doing less work—either way, you're still one of us little people the likes of him usually ignore the existence of."

Darcy growled. "Wickham, watch your tongue!"

"You call this boy your friend, Fitzwilliam?" Elizabeth observed archly. "It's a wonder he's not revealed your plan to Mr. Darcy to prevent us going away, with a mouth like that."

A guffaw that had him bending over erupted from Wickham, who slapped his thighs before standing straight and holding his hands up in a position of surrender. "All right there, put the verbal pistols away. I mean no offense, truly. I'm just genuinely surprised. My old friend never seemed the type to elope, especially with a girl he's only known a few months."

"Time alone does not determine intimacy, Mr. Wickham," Elizabeth said firmly. "Fitzwilliam and I are in love."

"I'll say, Miss Gardiner, if Darcy here's willing to risk the earl's wrath by running away to Gretna Green with you," Wickham replied. "Well, come along you lovey-doves, let's get going so we've a good head start before anyone realizes I did not find you on your solitary ramble and take you into Kympton for Miss Darcy's dresses."