Catherine Fitzwilliam was the eldest of three children born to a wealthy family and had led an idyllic childhood at the vast Matlock estate in Derbyshire. She was the only child for two years when Henry, the heir was born followed a year later by her sister Anne. Catherine adored her younger siblings especially Anne who within six months of her birth presaged the beauty she would become. She would be the golden girl and her parents were vocal in the difference between their two daughters. Where Anne was delicate and blond, Catherine was dark and plain. By the time Catherine reached the age of eighteen and made her debut in London Society she understood that her life would be vastly different from that of her sister but had come to terms with it. What she lacked in beauty she made up with a dry wit that was always gentle in spirit, never hurting and often aimed at herself. Her easy self-mockery and her kindness towards others made her a popular guest and she took every opportunity to improve her mind and social skills. She studied the guests at a party and discovered that the secret to being an excellent hostess was to gather a collection of people who were like-minded and eager to be entertained. It was a simple enough rule that many hostesses ignored which doomed their parties to dull affairs. Catherine's parties were full of laughter and interesting debates and were much talked of, invariably receiving high praise in the London Times.

The years following her debut saw her brother marry Regina Throckmorton who gave Henry three healthy children, and her sister Anne marry George Darcy and become the mistress of a fabled estate called Pemberley in Derbyshire. When Anne Darcy gave birth to her son Catherine began to feel a sense of loss and longing for her own child. She had received two marriage offers but had declined both as one of her suitors was a notorious gambler and the other an infamous womanizer. She had no regrets living her life as a spinster for her life was full and she was not particularly romantic but after her nieces and nephews were born she began to yearn for her own child.

She was four and twenty when she met Lewis DeBourgh at a ball. He was tall and austere but seemed kind and actually smiled at some of her witticisms. He was twenty years her senior, had never been married, was wealthy and in possession of a vast estate in Kent. After some consideration Catherine determined to marry him and succeeded six months later for she was in desperate need of a child and he thought it might be nice to have a wife who could entertain so well. He did love a good party.

On her wedding night she discovered that her new husband preferred to drink most of the contents of a bottle of brandy and retire to his own rooms rather than seek connubial bliss in the arms of his bride. Undaunted she gave him three months to consummate the marriage before she took matters into her own hands and with some difficulty managed to seduce him one night. After that she invaded his rooms once a week until she gained what she wanted and conceived her child. It was the last time she would ever share a bed with her husband. She doubted he even noticed or missed her defection.

Since there was no emotional attachment they never argued and were always respectful of each other. Though a cold and distant man he was kind and generous and she made sure his life was tranquil and would never suffer a moment of regret for his choice of wife. By societal standards the marriage was a great success for each got what they wanted; he, a hostess, she, a child.

When he died seventeen years later she was shocked and distressed but not inconsolable for his aloofness made him impossible to love though she had grown fond of him and mourned his loss. She contented herself in the knowledge that she had been a good wife and he had died a contented man. After the mourning period she planned to continue her lifestyle of splitting her time between Town and Rosing's Park. Then came Anne's illness and her life turned to ashes. To see her lovely and intelligent daughter fade before her eyes brought her such unbearable pain that she sometimes thought she teetered on the brink of madness. In the dead of night her sorrow and loneliness became a living, breathing entity.

But that was all behind her. Her daughter had survived her mysterious illness and now at the age of two and fifty she was ready to pick up the pieces of her life again but after so many years had lost the self-assurance that is a part of youth. She was once more free not sure she was confident enough to take her proper place in London's society. However, the prospect was inviting...nay, exciting.

After her talk with Anne, she spent the rest of the day in her rooms needing time to think. When she had a tray sent to her room instead of dining with her guests she had to assure her daughter that she was neither ill nor angry. The second time Anne invaded her rooms looking worried and contrite, Lady Catherine lost patience, "for heaven's sake, Anne. Go play with your cousins and leave me to think. I'll see you in the morning."

It was dark before she approached her desk wondering where she should begin. Most of her friends had gotten on with their lives in the lost years except for Regina Fitzwilliam, her sister-in-law. Reggie had remained constant in her friendship, always writing amusing letters, always encouraging, always visiting, always teasing her for hiring William Collins. Lady Catherine smiled remembering the first time Regina had been introduced to the cleric and her disbelief that Lady Catherine had hired a character from a comic opera as her spiritual guardian. Her letters always closed with her regards to Mr. Collins.

Dear Regina,

I've been sitting at my desk for the past hour staring at a blank sheet of paper wondering where to start. I suppose I should begin by saying you were right and I was wrong. I hasten to add that I bear you no ill-will for being justified in your advice to dismiss all hope of Darcy and Anne marrying, which considering the event of this morning, shows a greatness of mind. Herein you will find a five pound note. That will teach me to gamble and give you a hint of the news I wish to impart.

It was long overdue, but I finally confronted Anne. I know, Reggie, that the rumors are rampant in the family that my scheme to unite them was based on greed to connect Rosing's Park with Pemberley. I believe you know better. I have been so worried about the state of Anne's health, so fearful that if something happened to me she would be left to the not so tender mercies of every rake in England. All I ever wanted was Anne to be safe and secure with a kind of man who would respect and care for her but Anne has made it quite clear that she has no intention of marrying Darcy and she would not brook any argument. Oh Reggie, you should have seen her. She's now the picture of health and has regained the spirit which has been lying dormant for the past several years. I admit to a mild disappointment but I'm far from heart-broken. Now that she has recovered her strength, she reminds me of myself when I was her age. Quite resolute and rather opinionated! Actually I'm rather proud of her. After my conversation with Anne concerning her future I believe I no longer have to worry about her and I pity the blackguard that crosses her path.

Now, I must speak of your scalawag of a son. She declares that Richard is the one she loves and according to her it has been ever thus. I remember how you once said that Anne would better suit Richard but as usual, I disregarded your words, fixated as I was on a union with Darcy. I tried to remind her that Richard is not the marrying kind, but she has made up her mind. I fear, Reggie, that Anne is too much like her mother. Stubborn to a fault. She's quite sure that he loves her, but just doesn't know it yet. That could very well be possible. At times he appears to be clueless. There are other times I suspect he dons a mask when it suits him. In many ways he's as difficult to read as Darcy is. Where Darcy tends to stare and frown, Richard is a natural born flirt with such a sunny disposition that men and women are drawn to him. Have you never wondered how two such disparate men could be such close friends? During the many sleepless nights I endured for the past ten years I've idly speculated that each of them might have unplumbed depths that their family has never been privy to. But, I suppose, that's just my imagination.

But I digress! Anne's confidence in a happy outcome dismayed me and I made a half-hearted attempt to disabuse her of this notion citing his occupation and the many times he's stated that he was not inclined to marry, but on further consideration dropped the subject. I have noticed how he does seek her company. I've also observed how his eyes frequently follow her. Perhaps he does love her. We can only wait and hope that there will be a happy ending for both their sakes.

And now to my point. Anne plans to go to Town and take me with her. She wants to spend a fortune and refurbish the townhouse, then hold lavish parties and spend more money. She plans for us to stay with Darcy and Georgie. I think, however, it might be better if we stay with you if you'd be kind enough to invite us. It will give us a chance to get reacquainted and I know how you love to shop and your knowledge of the latest fashions would be an added bonus for I have been out of touch for so long I'm not sure I can rely on my own judgment. It has the added benefit of staying in Richard's home. Whenever he comes to Town he usually stays with Darcy. If he stays at home while Anne is there maybe she knows what she's talking about. That is as far as I wish to interfere in her plans. What do you think? Please, Reggie, don't leave me in suspense, and write as soon as may be.

Love, Cathy

The next few days slipped by under sunny skies and picnics by the creek. Darcy and Richard often joined the ladies. Richard charmed and flirted while Darcy remained silent but interested, offering little to the conversation. There had been a time when Elizabeth might have thought him proud and disagreeable but she now recognized his quiet ways and always included him in her arch musings. She was always rewarded by a twinkle in his dark eyes as his mouth softened. It was at moments like that when she silently offered a prayer that he had no idea of the effect he had on her. She found it increasingly difficult to tear her eyes away from his. She dared not think of what could be for she was sure it could never be. And a harmless flirtation couldn't hurt. At least she hoped it couldn't.

Ten days after her arrival in Kent, she received a letter from Jane which startled and confirmed her feelings that Darcy could never consider her as the mistress of Pemberley.

My dearest sister,

Oh Lizzie, where to start? But be not alarmed for we are all well. It's just that so many unexpected things have occurred since you left Longbourn. The happiest news is that Netherfield is let at last by a young man who has proved to be very affable. He is just what a young man should be, sensible, good humored, lively; and I never saw such happy manners! Oh Lizzie, I feel myself blushing when I say that he is also a very handsome young man. And he's an excellent dancer as I learned during the two assemblies he attended before returning to Town. He will be taking up residence within the month and I'm sure he will make a very amiable neighbor.

Of course Mother is already making wedding plans. She is spreading rumors far and wide and I fear that there is no one left in all of Hertfordshire who hasn't heard the news. Mother seems to think that wishing will make it so. I truly don't understand how our Mother can't see that her words are more apt to chase a possible suitor away. I can't imagine what could cool a young man's ardor quicker than hearing that he is betrothed to a woman whom he has known for no more than a week. I do wish Father would speak to her but as usual he finds great amusement in her fantasies. She is spoiling everything, Lizzie.

And now I must speak of an extraordinary event that took place a few days after you left Longbourn. We got word that the militia will be transferred to Brighton shortly and Mother invited Colonel Forster and several of his officers for tea and Father actually left his library and socialized with them. Later when our family sat down for dinner he remained quiet listening to Lydia and Kitty going on and on about the officers the way they always do and he said not a word. When dessert was served and the servants had left the room he suddenly slammed his hand down on the table and yelled at them 'enough!'. He never raises his voice so we were all shocked to say the least. Fortunately he lowered his voice but he left no doubt that he was seriously displeased with our sisters. They are not to go any further than the garden gates, attend any dinners or assemblies for a full month. He has suspended their allowances also. When they screamed and cried at his words he stood up and commanded them to go to their room and added that for the following week they would have all their meals in their room.

My dear Lizzie I believe that our father has finally taken your distress over our sister's deportment to heart and I can't help but think it might be the best thing that could happen to our family. Kitty has been much subdued since that night though I must admit Lydia still doesn't understand that father is quite resolute and will still quarrel with him not realizing that she is only prolonging her punishment. She is loud and inconsolable that she might never see Lieutenant Wickham again. Mother's nerves are raw and I confess so are mine.

Oh Lizzie! Since writing the above our trials have been made even more severe. Colonel Forster's wife has invited Lydia to join her in Brighton which has sent both Lydia and Kitty into hysterics. Lydia spends most of the day boasting of her good fortune and Kitty seems to think she should have been invited also despite the fact that she is not a close friend of Mrs. Forster.

At first Father refused Lydia permission but she eventually wore him down and he relented. So Lydia is to go to Brighton and she and Mother are both ecstatic and spending a small fortune on a new wardrobe. Lydia seems to think that the entire British Army will be delighted with her appearance at every event and Mother is quite positive that she will find a husband and return home in triumph. I dared to question Father about his decision but he assured me that we would never know a moment's peace if she wasn't allowed to go and this is true enough but I feel uneasy. I can only hope that everything will turn out well.

I do miss you my dearest sister. Give Mary my best and do write soon and tell me all about Kent.

Jane

Elizabeth read and re-read the letter from Jane then slid the letter across the table, "Mary, read this. The first part gave me some hope for our family. The last part makes my family seem hopeless."

Mary quickly scanned the letter and shook her head. "I fear that Lydia is determined to bring ruin on all of us."

"But she is penniless, Mary, and surely she can't get into too much trouble while under the protection of Colonel Forster."

"She is willful and ungoverned, Lizzie. We've known that for years. Men are not governed by the morals which women must adhere to. Have you ever heard of a man being ruined by his libertine ways? Have we not both heard of the men who gamble their fortunes away yet are still accepted into the finest homes? And what of the man who seduces high and low-born woman? He is called a roue or rake and the appellation is invariably applied with a wink and smirk. There are no comparative words to describe the wanton actions of a woman. She is labeled a slut and whore and that appellation is applied with a sneer."

Elizabeth was horrified and disheartened by Mary's words. The pleasures of her time in Kent began to fade with the fear of what Lydia might do to destroy the reputation of her family. Still, she refused to believe that Lydia was so devoid of common sense that she would willfully bring shame upon all of them and she had to cling to this hope. It was not in her nature to dwell on unavoidable evils and augment them with anxiety.

Another day passed and Lady Catherine received a response from her sister-in-law.

Cathy!

You know not the joy I felt in receiving your letter. Of course you are invited to stay as long as need be. I've already given directions to air and clean two suites for you and Anne. As for spending money, you have the right of it but to help bankrupt you has left me in a state of delirium. There are so many new shops in town and so many choices to be made that I fear that we will go mad before we can make a final decision. But what fun it will be. I am already making out a tentative guest list for the dinner party I shall hold in honor of your return to Town. Give my love to that scalawag son of mine and a hug to Darcy and Georgie. I just can't wait to see you. Write soon. And give my regards to Mr. Collins.

Reggie

The letter from Charlotte that arrived a week before Elizabeth was to return to Longbourn astounded and delighted her.

Dear Lizzie,

Forgive me for not responding to your letter as quickly as I might have but I confess that I haven't had the stamina nor the will to take pen to paper. Even now I find great difficulty in relating the dreadful occurrence of three weeks past when the entire household was awakened by the shrill screams of Mrs. Appleton's personal maid. She'd gone into her mistress's room to rouse her and found her dead. By the time I'd managed to throw a robe on and run to see what had happened, Mr. Appleton was there also, holding his wife and crying out her name. Then the twins descended on the room and the pandemonium was complete.

As I mentioned to you in my previous letters, Mrs. Appleton had never fully recovered from the birth of her last child and though her doctors assured Mr. Appleton that time would heal, it was not to be. I fear that our doctors know little of the female anatomy and have to rely on the information supplied by a midwife. I know that it's a blasphemous thought to hold that modesty should not play a part in giving birth to a child, but I am convinced that fewer women would die in the process if the doctor could actually examine her. I begin to think, my dear Lizzie, that our local pharmacists know as much as our doctors do and are much less expensive.

Mr. Appleton is distraught with grief. How many silly novels we've indulged ourselves with where grief seemed so romantic. But the reality of the situation is somewhat different. He is father to four children who have lost their mother and this is not the time for the hero to pine away for the loss of his true love. For the past two weeks I've seen the disintegration of a family and it breaks my heart to witness it.

One of Mrs. Appleton's sisters has already arrived and taken the two youngest back with her to her home in Ireland. Mr. Appleton's mother insists that the twins go live with her in London. Mr. Appleton seems unaware of what is taking place and I must admit it does him no credit to cede away his responsibilities so easily no matter how much he loved his wife. I can only hope that he regains his reason and at least takes his sons back before too much time passes. I am to take them to London in a few days and deliver them into their grandmother's welcoming arms. I shall stay for a couple of days until the children are well settled and then bid them farewell. I will miss them sorely as they are really quite a delightful pair and are being so brave despite this terrible heartbreak.

Mr. Appleton has been more than generous with my severance pay and has given me excellent references so by the time you receive this letter I will be unemployed and preparing for my return to Lucas Lodge. I am exhausted, Lizzie, both in body and spirit and look forward to seeing all my dear family and friends once more. I especially look forward to seeing you, my dearest friend.

Charlotte

Elizabeth was ashamed at the joy she felt knowing her happiness had come at such a heavy cost to the Appleton family and she was much subdued as she imparted her news to Anne and Georgie later that afternoon when she was invited to tea.

"What will Miss Charlotte do now, Lizzie?" Georgianna inquired gently.

"I have no idea, Georgie, but I think when she applies for another job it should be as a companion. She's wise and well-read. I have always found her excellent company. We used to indulge in the Socratic method and sometimes our conclusions were hilarious. She truly opened the world to me. It will be wonderful to see her again."

Anne and Georgie were very pleased for her and Richard offered sincere congratulations for her hardly suppressed joy while Darcy regarded her absently wondering where he should place her likeness in the portrait hall at Pemberley. At this unbidden thought he turned away but not soon enough to escape the scrutiny of his esteemed Aunt, Lady Catherine. That lady regarded him with a look of amusement which befuddled him and he frowned in confusion which seemed to further amuse her.

Elizabeth's happiness lasted for two more days. Twice she met Mr. Darcy on her ramblings through the woods where she engaged him in light converse interspersed with arch opinions on books, art and the theatre. She took particular pleasure in arguing the merits of poetry. It was her contention that it would be easier and more worth while to study Greek then to try to translate poetry into a common language which could be understood at first reading. This was such a profane notion that Darcy stopped in his tracks and turned towards her ready to disabuse her of such blasphemous thoughts. She turned and faced him squarely, her color high, her eyes bright and gleaming, daring him to play the game. He had never argued with a devil's advocate who wore a dress and bonnet the color of sunbeams and he was totally bewitched. In later years he would look upon that very moment when he admitted to himself that he was lost and wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with her.

He would never know how he might have responded to her challenge for Richard chose that moment to come thrashing though the brush muttering not so mild oaths as he tried to disentangle his body from the vines that clutched at him. Elizabeth's disappointment at the interruption was keen but she valiantly tried to hide it as the three of them walked back to the parsonage.

When she entered the drawing room she was greeted by Mary who was clutching a letter and looking pale. "It's an express from Jane, Lizzie. Open it quickly and tell me if it concerns our parents."

Elizabeth obeyed and immediately quieted Mary's fears. "It's Lydia. She's run off with Lieutenant Wickham."