I do not own Divergent. Credit goes to Veronica Roth.

I do not own Pride and Prejudice. Credit goes to Jane Austen.

Aunt Victoria and Uncle Arman decided to visit Dauntless the next morning and although Beatrice didn't really desire to go, she accompanied them.

"We have no business being there," she told them as they left in the carriage. "I shall feel awkward. We were not invited to see the place," Beatrice continued to think of some excuse to detour their journey to Dauntless, the home of Mr. Eaton.

"They welcome visitors from time to time," stated Uncle Arman.

"Besides I had in on great authority from Emily that the family is away for the week," assured Aunt Victoria. "So you need not worry about running into Mr. Eaton, Beatrice."

Emily was the maidservant at the Rose Inn where they were staying. She was a very attentive maid, ready to assist with anything. It was Emily who stated that the grounds at Dauntless were beautifully kept and that they should visit it before they leave the Country. And so it was that morning that Aunt Victoria decided today would be that day.

Beatrice let out a sigh. She would have to remind Emily next time not to mention Dauntless and its beautiful grounds.

However, upon reaching the border of the estate Beatrice could not help but gasp in awe at the place. Her Aunt placed a hand on Beatrice's hand to steady her as she looked about excitedly.

"It is such a great estate, Aunt," Beatrice commented as a small smile appeared on her lips. She had never seen a place like it. The hills, the trees, the lanes and everything else seemed to be held in magnificence.

"Stop the coach," Uncle Arman called out when they had reached another lane.

From that lane, across a meadow, overlooking a lake was none other than Dauntless. Beatrice's breath was completely taken away.

"What do you think of the house, Tris," asked Aunt Victoria.

"I like it very much," Beatrice smiled.

"Pity then that you did not come to like its' owner," teased Uncle Arman.

Beatrice could not help but laugh. "It's a great pity."

"Shall we inquire inside to see the house now, Tris," probed Uncle Arman.

"We shall," Beatrice agreed.

They drove down the lane and were met with an older woman who had been servant of the house for many years. She ran things alongside Mr. Eaton's steward when Mr. Eaton was not there. She smiled and was glad to received visitors.

The joyful woman struck Beatrice as odd. She did not think that Mr. Eaton would keep company with someone so outgoing which was contrary to her previous view on his character.

"This was Mrs. Eaton's favorite room," the woman smiled when they had entered a room facing over a meadow. Beatrice looked outside to see a small river and nearby seem to be a small group of horses. "Her horse is that beautiful grey," the woman pointed out to Beatrice. "My master does not wish to part with her just yet," she smiled. It made Beatrice smile as well.

They were shown another room with picturesque statues and artwork that made Beatrice's eyes widen and stare in wonder.

"This is a portrait that was painted for Miss Eaton," the woman said.

"Ah what a handsome young lady, don't you think so Beatrice," asked Uncle Arman. Beatrice turned away from the statute to look at the painting.

"She is," Beatrice smiled.

"She is the handsomest young lady I ever did see," smiled the woman. "She plays and sings all day long. Because of that my master bought this for her sixteenth birthday about a month ago."

"Tris," Aunt Victoria called her towards another painting. "Doesn't this young man look like someone we know?"

Beatrice looked at the small portrait and recognized him as a younger version of Mr. Eric Wickham.

"This man, here," pointed the woman. "He is the son of the late Mr. Eaton's steward. Mr. Eaton took care of him," the woman continued. "But he grew up very ungrateful and wild. Very wild indeed," she commented.

Aunt Victoria seemed shocked at the news. When she turned her attention to Beatrice, she noticed that her niece did not seem phased at all by the statement.

"And this is my master," the woman pointed.

Aunt Victoria looked down and couldn't help but comment. "It is a handsome face but I have never seen the original. Is it like him Tris?"

Before she could answer, the woman spoke. "Oh, does the young lady know my master?"

"Yes."

"And do you not think his a handsome man, Miss?"

"I do," Beatrice smiled.

"I have never met any as handsome nor as kind."

"Really," asked Uncle Arman.

"Yes and I've known him all his life. Ask any of his servants. Some call him proud but I believe that is because he doesn't rattle away or jump about like many other young men. I have never heard a cross word from him. His father was an excellent man and my master will be just like him. Come," the woman motioned. "I have a larger portrait of him in the other gallery."

Beatrice could not help but admire all the qualities of Mr. Eaton that she had not noticed until now. Oh how much she had misjudged him.

The woman continued to show them two of the gardens that were on the property. Each one was different from the other. The first contained beautiful shrubberies and flowers. While the second contained fountains, lily-pads and small statues. Regardless of the difference both were gorgeous to Beatrice.

"To think I could have been Mistress of all this," she looked around the meadow. Beatrice bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. She walked out of the garden, away from her Aunt and Uncle and wondered towards where the horses were walking about.

One of the stable boys brought up Mrs. Eaton's grey horse for Beatrice to pet and she could not help but admire the beauty of the old mare. She could see why Mr. Eaton did not want to part with his mother's favorite riding horse.

"Miss Beatrice."

It was at that voice that Beatrice's hand froze over the mare's mane. She turned around and curtsied without looking at the gentlemen.

"Mr. Eaton."