A/N This is a MP/P&P crossover in the sense that the story itself is borrowed straight from the pages of Mansfield Park (as the discerning reader might guess from the prologue), but in fact it is a sequel to Pride and Prejudice. As always, I hope you enjoy!

Prologue

1830

About eighteen years ago, Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, with only one thousand pounds, had the good luck to captivate Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, in the county of Derbyshire, and to be raised, within six years, to the rank of a viscount's lady, with all the comforts and consequences of an handsome house and large income. All Meryton exclaimed on the greatness of the match, and her uncle, the lawyer, himself, allowed her to be at least nineteen thousand pounds short of any equitable claim to it.

Only two of her sisters, out of four, benefited by the elevation, as Miss Bennet and Miss Lydia were respectively engaged and married by the time that they might have gained any prospects by the connection. Miss Bennet's match, indeed, was a remarkably good one, for while Mr Bingley possessed no estate, his inheritance amounted to some four thousand pounds a year. But Miss Lydia married, in the common phrase, to disoblige her family, and by fixing on a lieutenant in the militia, without fortune or connections, did it very thoroughly.

The succeeding years passed as might be expected. The Bingleys removed to an estate some thirty miles from Pemberley, and settled into a quietly genteel existence of hunting and fishing, charity and children. The Darcys, handsome, clever, and rich, wanted for nothing; their income multiplied, their family expanded at convenient intervals, and they had all the pleasure of the occasional blazing row amidst general domestic tranquillity.

Such of their acquaintance as thought Miss Catherine and Miss Mary nearly as handsome as Miss Elizabeth did not scruple to predict their marrying with almost equal advantage. But there certainly are not so many men of large fortune in the world, as there are pretty women to deserve them. Miss Catherine, at the end of half a dozen years, found herself obliged to be attached to the Reverend Mr Clement, a friend of her brother-in-law. Mr Darcy had given him an income in the living of Pemberley, and Mr and Mrs Clement began their career of conjugal felicity on very little less than a thousand a year. Miss Mary, with nothing better in sight, married Harris Plumpton, a clerk employed by her uncle, and was content to remain a star in the society of Meryton.

As for George and Lydia Wickham, nothing, apparently, could effect a revolution in characters such as theirs; they remained extravagant, heedless, and selfish, always in search of a cheap situation, and always spending more than they ought.

So matters might have continued into perpetuity, had not Mr Darcy finally deigned to accept a seat in the House of Lords. This event, for reasons that nobody quite understood, precipitated a violent quarrel between Lady Darcy and Mrs Wickham. For a considerable period, nearly all intercourse ceased. Mrs Clement was also comprehended in the estrangement; she followed her sister-cum-patroness' lead in every thing.

Their homes were so distant, the circles in which they moved so distinct, as almost to preclude the means of their ever hearing of each other's existence during the eleven following years. By the end of that period, however, with a large and still increasing family, Mrs Wickham could no longer afford to cherish pride or resentment. The Bingleys had nine children of their own and could not maintain the excessive generosity that had been her primary dependence, while what little money Mr Wickham earnt went straight to drink and other, less savoury, pursuits.

A glance at the society pages brought her sister to her mind, and with no more ado, Mrs Wickham addressed Lady Darcy in a letter which spoke so much contrition and despondence, such a superfluity of children, and such a want of almost everything else, as could not but dispose them all to a reconciliation. She was preparing for her fourteenth lying-in, and after bewailing the circumstance, and imploring their countenance as sponsors to the expected child, she could not conceal how important she felt they might be to the future maintenance of the thirteen already in being. Her eldest were a girl and boy of sixteen and fifteen, handsome, lively, longing to be out in the world, but what could she do? Was there any chance that either might be useful to Lord Darcy? No situation would be beneath them —

The letter was not unproductive. It re-established peace and kindness. Lord Darcy sent advice and professions, Lady Darcy dispatched money and baby-linen, while Mrs Clement, who had an active, eager disposition, wrote the letters.

Such were its immediate effects, and within a year, a more important advantage to Mrs Wickham resulted from it. Mrs Clement was often observing to the others that she could not get her poor sister and her family out of her head, and that much as they had all done for her, she seemed to be wanting to do more: and at length she could not but own it to be her wish, that poor Mrs Wickham should be relieved from the charge and expense of one child entirely out of her great number.

'What if, among us, we were to undertake the care of her daughter?' she asked.

Lady Darcy smiled. 'Do we have any particular preference as to which daughter?'

'I should not think so,' Mrs Clement said complacently. 'It can hardly signify to poor Lydia.'

Clearing his throat, Lord Darcy said, 'It is a serious charge. The girl would have to be adequately provided for. I could not countenance taking her from her family, otherwise.'

'Of course.' Lady Darcy glanced out the window at all the old, familiar sights. Pemberley had been her home for nearly twenty years, and she'd loved it even before then;—but to a young Miss Wickham, brought up in squalor with over a dozen siblings?

'—young and impressionable,' Mrs Clement was saying. 'Then she may be properly educated into a right way of thinking.'

'We must do everything in our power for her,' Lord Darcy warned. 'It is not an enterprise to be entered into lightly.'

Mrs Clement rushed on. 'One of the younger girls might be a good companion for Georgiana. A cousin, naturally, is nothing to a sibling — ' her brother-in-law's eyebrows shot up — 'but a child of eleven or twelve might be quite useful to her.'

'I am not thinking of my niece's usefulness,' her sister replied.

'Of course not.' Mrs Clement's mind had already leapt ahead. 'Elizabeth might be the properest choice; she is your goddaughter.'

'And I have very faithfully sent her presents,' cried Lady Darcy, laughing at the expression on her husband's face. 'I really do wish her the best, but I have no intentions of bringing a handsome girl of seventeen into my house.'

'A child brought up among your own children would never be more than a sister.'

'Betsey is not a child, and I assure you that my sons will never consider her a sister. No, we must choose one of the younger girls— the youngest, I think. Arabella, isn't it?'

'Isabella,' said Lord Darcy.

'Yes, of course, Isabella,' Mrs Clement agreed, beaming at them both, 'she is now just of an age to require more attention than her poor mother could possibly give, while the trouble and expense would be nothing to us.'

Her brother and sister exchanged a glance and promised to consider the matter, consenting to the plan several long conversations later. Lady Darcy suggested that the girl might live with them, at the Parsonage; her sister instantly rejected the idea with a string of protests. Their house was simply too small — and poor Mr Clement's indifferent health — should she prove to be a spirited girl, anything like her mother at all — or, heaven forbid, her father — and with their affairs so straitened, how could they afford the upkeep of a child?

The Darcys, who had every intention of being real and consistent patrons to the child, concealed smiles. With all his usual succintness, the viscount said, 'Then she had better come to us.'

Much later, he elaborated on the subject. 'This is not so simple as Catherine seems to believe. I will not authorise any arrogance towards our niece, but nevertheless her expectations will always be different, and there is nothing to be done about that.'

'Still,' replied his wife, 'it must be better than what she faces in Portsmouth. Lydia has no regard for any of her girls but Betsey, and there is so much we can do for her. She may not be exactly equal to our own children, in some respects, but at this age there can be little difference, and I imagine they will be very good friends.'

'I hope so,' said Lord Darcy, and kept any further doubts to himself.