Part ONE – DISENCHANTMENT

Chapter One

1802

"When we arrive in London tomorrow, we have something important to do."

"Before I leave for school?"

"Yes. I have been corresponding with Lord Markham and we both feel it is time you and his daughter meet. Yes, she is still young and will not have her come out for several more years, but the time has come for you to get to know each other."

The younger Darcy tried hard to forget about the arrangements made on his behalf. "Is there an urgent need for us to meet? I am but eight and ten and starting at Cambridge next week."

"There is no rush, but before you start university, I must take care of some important business in town, and I thought you could meet your betrothed while we are there."

"Very well, father, if that is your wish."

Fitzwilliam and his father stood outside the impressive Markham townhouse in Mayfair. "This house is almost as long as the block."

"Yes, son, Markham does nothing by halves, I expect your wedding to be the social event of the year." Looking at his son's pale visage, he added, "whenever that time comes." Hearing his father's words made Darcy feel sicker. "Shall we?" His father motioned for his son to move forward; they were soon admitted and shown into the drawing room.

Before the Darcys had a chance to sit, Lord Markham entered the room and warmly greeted his guests. "Well, young man, are you ready to meet your future wife?"

"Yes, sir, it is just that I have not yet started university and the idea of marriage seems very far in my future."

"I understand, but whatever the future holds, it will be here sooner than you…" A footman opened the door before he could finish his sentence and an attractive young girl entered the room.

Darcy could not believe what he was seeing; her silk dress was covered in layers of lace and pearls with matching clips in her hair. She wore a jewelled necklace and her bracelets were covered in jewels; her dress was cut daringly low. She appeared to enjoy flaunting the fact that although she was barely out of the nursery she already possessed the figure of a woman. This is simply an afternoon call not a presentation at court. If she dresses this way every day, Pemberley Park will be bankrupt before our first child can walk. Darcy exchanged an uncertain glance with his father before he walked toward Lady Beatrice and bowed. "I am pleased to meet you, my lady."

Beatrice looked at Darcy and responded with the smallest of curtsies. She looked at her father with tears in her eyes, "why, Papa, why must I marry this nobody? All you care about is uniting our estates, but what about me? Now I know why no one knows of this arrangement. My friends are betrothed to the sons of dukes and earls, but you have tied me to this, this…"

"Beatrice, behave yourself or I will have you sent back to the nursery," Lord Markham declared forcefully. "The Darcy family has a long, well-respected history and Pemberley Park is one of England's finest estates. Your betrothed's uncle sits with me in the House of Lords, and we are politically aligned. Your marriage is many years in the future, and you have plenty of time to reconcile yourself to its eventuality. Perhaps, you and Fitzwilliam would like to take a walk in the garden and get to know one another better. I will send a footman as a chaperone, although I am confident that will not be necessary."

Beatrice stormed out of the room and Darcy thought it best he follow her. A footman showed him to the door to the garden, and he approached Beatrice as she paced under a large elm tree.

"Shall we walk?"

"Why not? My father will not be happy if we do not stay out here for the requisite period of time."

The garden was quite lovely and although he was inherently shy, Darcy forced himself to start the conversation. "Do you like to read?" Her hands were stubbornly crossed around her chest, and she would not look at him; her eyes remained focused on the grass at her feet.

"No! I read only what is necessary to complete my schooling." Her boredom was reflected in her monotonal voice. "I find reading for pleasure tedious and a complete waste of time."

He cringed at her words. "Do you enjoy riding?"

"I can ride, of course, but the sun is not good for my complexion; I prefer indoor activities."

"Such as?"

"After my debut, I will be busy every night of the Season with parties, dinners, and balls. All summer I will be attending house parties throughout the country. I do hope you enjoy dancing; I love attending balls above anything else! The dresses and jewels, the lights from the candelabras, the music, and the floral scented air. I cannot wait until I can do more than stand by and observe."

She did not ask Darcy one question about himself, and he did not care, he had no interest in knowing anything more about her than he had already ascertained. She is a petulant, vapid, condescending child who feels she is lowering herself by marrying any man without a title. What a snob!

"I realize it will be many years until your debut and if my school schedule allows it, I will attend your coming out ball."

"I have almost succeeded in convincing my father to allow me out in society as soon as I am ten and five. It is of no concern to me whether or not you wish to attend my ball," she said offhandedly. "I am returning to the house and going directly to my chambers. Goodbye!" He watched her walk toward the house, stand and wait for the footman to see her and open the door. She disappeared without a backward glance.

Darcy and his father were soon on their way back to their home when the younger man burst out, "I cannot do it! You saw what she is like; she told me she hates to read, and riding is not good for her skin! She is conceited, empty headed and we have absolutely nothing in common. How can you expect me to marry that empty shell of a person?"

"Son, she is still a child; years younger than you. Markham told me she is insisting on making her debut when she is five and ten; I cannot imagine why he would allow it but she is not my child. I am confident her attitudes will change as she matures and you cannot dispute how attractive she is."

"I am less concerned with how she looks than what is inside her. I hope she grows up quickly or we will have to do everything we can to prolong this betrothal. If she has her come out when she is fifteen, I hardly think she will have matured enough by that time." Darcy nervously ran his hand through his hair. "Pray do not tell anyone of this…this pact."

Mr Darcy knew it was better to say nothing and subtly nodded his head. He purposely failed to mention that the betrothal contract stipulated they must wed before Fitzwilliam turned eight and twenty. Although it is many years in the future, my son cannot put off the wedding forever.

1805

Nearing the end of his third year at Cambridge, Mr Darcy requested his son's presence in London. I dread knowing why he wants me there, but I will be a dutiful son and go. I was able to avoid my betrothed's coming out ball earlier this year because of illness but now, I am well and have no excuse. Better to get it over with and quickly return to my studies.

Because of his school schedule and his sickness, it had been more than six months since he had last seen his father and was shocked by the change in his appearance. "Father, have you lost weight? Are you well?"

"I am quite well, son. My appetite has changed, and I am eating a bit less, but I have been told that often occurs as one ages." He did not like misleading his son, but he was also not ready to visit a doctor and find out what was causing the changes in his appetite, stamina and appearance.

Darcy was unsure he was hearing the truth. "Are you certain you are well?"

"You worry too much."

"In that case, is there a specific reason you asked me to come to town?" He held his breath hoping his father's request was not what he feared.

"Lord Markham is holding a ball later this week and he asked that we attend. She made her debut a few months ago and it is time you started being seen in society with Lady Beatrice."

He knew he had no choice, "yes, father, as you wish."

The younger man's stomach was in knots as their carriage neared the party. He was hoping the petulant child he met three years ago had matured enough to hold a tolerable conversation.

"Fitzwilliam, I expect you to behave like a gentleman this evening. You are to treat Lady Beatrice with the respect she is due as the daughter of a nobleman and as your betrothed."

"I understand, sir. I will do my best."

Their host and his daughter stood together in the entry welcoming their guests. Mr Darcy warmly greeted his host and kissed Lady Beatrice's hand. Darcy bowed to Lord Markham and dreaded looking at his betrothed. She was covered in jewels, but not wearing her betrothal ring; he hoped it indicated she wished to end their arrangement. She smirked, "you did not trouble yourself to attend my debut ball; how kind of you to make time to attend this evening."

"I regret I was unable to be there. I have been rather ill with pneumonia and the doctor prohibited me from traveling until now. Pray excuse me," he added as he started toward the ballroom.

"Oh, Fitzwilliam," she called out to his retreating back, "I only have one dance left open tonight: the second set after supper. Would you like me to put your name in?"

Darcy wanted to run out the door he had just entered but knew his father was watching him and replied, "thank you for honouring me with a set. I appreciate your thoughtfulness."

He entered the ballroom and could not help but smile as Lieutenant Richard Fitzwilliam walked toward him. "Cousin, it is so good to see you!"

"I am surprised to see you here tonight; I thought you were safely tucked away at Cambridge. On the other hand, I am preparing my troops for whatever the Corsican decides to do next. I know Beatrice is your betrothed, but she and Lord Bertram have done everything in public this Season but…"

Richard had been sworn to secrecy about the betrothal after Darcy confided in his cousin when they both had had much too much to drink. "Please, not another word." Darcy interrupted, "both fathers are intent on the match and there is no way out of it. I think about it as little as I possibly can."

"Very well, at least your young wife will not suffer any pain on your wedding night."

Darcy ran his hand through his hair, "Richard, I warned you."

"It has been delightful to see you, but now I must return to the officers' barracks and set a good example for my men. I only came to partake of the delicious food and wine; His Majesty's army is not famous for its cuisine."

"Stay well and try to write every few months," Darcy teased the man he thought of as an older brother. Richard smiled and walked away.

His father stopped to speak to some friends before heading to the card room. Darcy stood alone in a corner of the ballroom where he watched the woman he was compelled to marry laughing, drinking, and flirting with every man she danced with. Darcy had been feeling sorry for himself and wool-gathering for so long he almost forgot it was time for him to dance with his betrothed. He looked around the room and saw his father and Lord Markham standing together anticipating their children's first dance. Lady Beatrice was nowhere to be found and he thought she might have walked out on the terrace for some fresh air. He had barely taken a step over the threshold when he saw his future wife in the arms of a man who was passionately kissing every part of her exposed upper body. Darcy loudly cleared his throat and the two lovers turned to look at him. "Madam, I believe this is our dance."

"So it is, Mr Darcy." As she pulled the front of her dress up to a more appropriate level, she calmly declared, "I am sure you know Lord Bertram."

Darcy ignored her introduction, offered her his arm, and walked inside. "I would have left you alone with your friend, but our fathers are expecting us to dance this evening. I assure you that your behaviour tonight will not be tolerated after our betrothal is publicly announced."

"Really? I hope you will know how to please me after we are married."

He was shocked by the boldness of her words. "I assure you, when the time comes, I will know precisely what is expected of me."

"I hope your performance can compare to what I have…." She tilted her head and looked at him with contempt, "I do not wish to wait long to marry. You cannot expect me to remain faithful after I give you an heir."

Darcy was outraged by the vulgarity of her words. He finally found his voice and replied, "since you asked, yes, I expect you to honour our wedding vows. That is why they are called vows. You are not yet ten and six and I am still at Cambridge; I do not foresee our marriage taking place any time soon."

Beatrice pouted and coldly suggested, "shall we join the set?"

A few minutes later the two most unhappy people in the ballroom moved past their fathers who silently applauded them dancing together.

Later in their carriage, Darcy told his father what he witnessed on the balcony and some of his discussion with his betrothed.

"Markham should never have allowed her to make her debut at fifteen. He wanted to announce your betrothal tonight but after he saw how unfriendly you behaved toward one another; he understood tonight might not be the best time. She is not yet ten and six and still young. Although her behaviour was unacceptable, she was kissing someone, nothing more."

"Considering her behaviour tonight on and off the dance floor, announcing our betrothal would only serve to humiliate me. It is bad enough that when the time comes for everyone to become aware of the agreement, half of London will be laughing at me behind my back. She implied she does not plan to be faithful after she bears an heir." He refrained from revealing what his betrothed said about what she expected of him in the marital bed.

"Son, people in our sphere marry for wealth, power, and connections. That is the way of our world, and you must accept it. Was her kissing someone inappropriate? Yes, but it is evidently how her friends behave. She has not had the benefit of a mother's guidance."

"How can I ever agree to her behaviour! Marry, beget an heir and then live apart. I would be condemning myself to living a lonely life while she… I will not say it aloud. Papa, there must be a way to put an end to this farce; no one else is aware of it. If necessary, I will finish my studies in another country until the rumours died down."

"That cannot happen; listen to me carefully. I signed a legally binding document; you must marry Lady Beatrice before you are eight and twenty. Other than your dislike of her, there is no actual reason to end the agreement. Regardless of our friendship, her father would sue us for breach of promise if we attempt to back out. Despite his own vast wealth, Lord Markham might demand a judge settle a fortune on his daughter and it might cost us Pemberley Park; not to mention how the scandal would affect Georgiana's chances of making a good match." Darcy nervously ran his hand through his hair and looked at the floor of the carriage unable to think of anything that would make a difference. George Darcy tried to console his son, but knew he needed to tread lightly. "Right now, Beatrice is too influenced by the beau monde in which she surrounds herself." He added, "keep her with child at Pemberley House and she will soon forget all those ideas."

"I pray you are correct, father, but I am sure you can understand why I wish to leave London as soon as possible."

"Very well, I will make arrangements for you to return to Cambridge tomorrow." He had been praying Lady Beatrice's behaviour had improved since she and his son had last met. He would not say anything to his son about it, but he was seriously disheartened by the young woman's behaviour. Perhaps he was too young to commit him to a betrothal to someone we had never met; it is too late to change that now.

The night after the Markham's ball, George Darcy gazed at his visage in the looking glass as his valet helped him prepare for bed. Fitzwilliam is right; I have lost weight. Can I be seriously ill? I am losing my energy and cannot look at, much less eat, most of the foods I previously enjoyed. When his health deteriorated to the degree he had difficulty walking without his stick, he decided to visit Howard Pauling, the Darcy family physician.

When the examination was concluded, Pauling told his patient, "finish dressing, and I will meet you in my office."

A few moments later, the doctor sighed and looked at his old friend. "George, I wish I had better news. We have known each other since our days at Cambridge and it is difficult for me to tell you the results of my examination. There is a large mass in your abdomen and it is the reason you are fatigued and have lost your appetite. I can see you have already lost a great deal of weight; your clothes are hanging off you."

"What is to be done?"

"There is nothing to treat your condition; I am sorry to say you are dying."

The patient was shocked by his words. "Dying? No, it is too soon; I cannot leave my children yet. Fitzwilliam is still at school and my daughter is not yet nine. Are you certain there is no treatment?"

"I am afraid not. This cancer inside you will continue to grow until you are no longer able to eat and then…"

The patient bowed his head and when he looked up, he asked in a quivering voice, "how much longer will I live? I must prepare my son if he will become master of Pemberley Park sooner than we expected."

"Depending on how quickly the cancer grows, you could live another year, but not much more. When you start feeling so much pain you cannot leave your bed, I will keep you comfortable with laudanum."

The patient rose and shook the hand of his long-time friend. "Howard, I would like to be the one to tell my family about my illness; pray say nothing to anyone else."

"George, you have my word."

On the carriage ride home, the doctor's words echoed in his mind. All I ask is it not be too long until my son is married and living at Pemberley. I wish to live long enough to see him happily settled and able to provide a loving home for Georgiana. Perhaps when Fitzwilliam finishes school next year, he might be willing to marry Beatrice. I pray it will be so, but not knowing about my health, he may try to postpone the wedding as long as he can. I am not ready to tell my family that I do not have long to live.

1806

George Darcy had returned to Pemberley Park shortly after he visited Doctor Pauling; whenever his time came he wished to be at home and be buried next to his beloved wife, Anne. His health continued to deteriorate but he refused to tell his family or friends of his illness; nothing could help him and he did not want anyone's pity. Ultimately, he was confined to his bed most of the day. One morning he asked for his ten-year-old daughter to be brought to his chambers. He greeted her while still in bed, propped up with pillows as he watched his dear child approach him.

"Papa, are you unwell?" Georgiana asked in a trembling voice. She had never before seen her father in his bed.

"Come here, sweetling, and sit beside me." When she was settled, he spoke quietly. "My darling girl, your Papa loves you so very much, but I am not well. Here is a letter I have written to your brother asking him to return to Pemberley as quickly as he can. Will you make sure my express is sent out today, my darling Georgie?"

"Yes, Papa."

"Mrs Reynolds will take care of it for you. Go now, child, and you can visit me again later."

Her father's cheek was wet with tears as she leaned over and kissed him but said nothing. The young girl sensed something very bad was about to happen and she cried as she went in search of the housekeeper.

Darcy had completed his studies at Cambridge and was preparing to leave for home. His valet, Kenton, entered his chambers bearing a letter on a silver salver. "This express was just delivered, sir."

He was deciding which books to keep with him in the carriage and which to pack and commented, "the rain has not stopped for days, perhaps we should wait another day or two for the roads to dry."

"Shall I make arrangements for two days hence?"

Darcy looked at the letter and instantly recognized his father's writing; he silently prayed he was not being asked to return to London and pay court to Lady Beatrice.

My son,

It is urgent you come home immediately.

Papa

"I must get home as soon as possible. Never mind the muddy roads, we must make haste."

He was on his way within hours and after three long rainy days on the road, his carriage drove up the lane to Pemberley House. As he got nearer, he saw a black wreath hanging on the front door and tears filled his eyes. I am too late! My father is dead!

He wiped away his tears before he entered the house, and his young sister ran to him and threw herself into his arms. "Brother, Papa is dead. What shall we do?"

Darcy could feel his sister's tears and kissed her hair and held her tight. "We are together now, little one, and we will bear this sadness together."

"I am so happy you are home." Georgiana clung to him and cried in his arms.

"So am I, poppet, so am I." My darling sister has suffered the loss of both our parents; she never knew our mother and my father doted on her these past ten years. I must do everything I can to see she is well cared for. I suspected my father was ill when I went to London for the Markham's ball and should not have believed him when he said he was well. Now I understand why he was so determined to teach me as much as he could about managing Pemberley Park. He must have known he did not have long to live and wanted me to be prepared. Whenever I was home, I sensed his urgency to teach me as much as he could, but I did not understand the reason why. We spoke about the running of the estate; we visited the tenant farms together and I sat in on many of his meetings with the steward. I never suspected he was so ill as we spent hours and hours together in his study. I wish I had paid better attention; I believed it would be many years before I would become master.

Being put in control of the vast holdings of the Darcy family fell to him so unexpectedly; he felt completely unprepared. He was not ready to undertake such an endeavour while consumed by grief. The pain that followed the sudden death of his father was breaking his heart. After the funeral, he spent every working hour attending to his many responsibilities. He did not complain, his father imparted a deep sense of pride in their heritage and a love of the land; he was determined to make his father proud. He was taught to think carefully before making decisions and to listen to the advice of people he trusted.

Why did my father not tell me he was so ill? I would have come home sooner; I would give everything I now own to spend more time with him. He was lost in thought when he heard a knock on the study door.

"Enter!" He shouted out of frustration.

Mrs Reynolds, the housekeeper, stepped into the room and asked, "may I get you anything, master Fitzwilliam? Oh, I apologize, Mr Darcy. Your father's death has been difficult for all of us."

"You have known me since I was a young boy and I confess I feel lost. My father taught me so much, but looking at all these letters and invoices, I have no idea where to begin."

"If I may offer you some advice, sir: attempt one task at a time and do not hesitate to ask for help. Becoming master so suddenly is an enormous undertaking and you must give yourself time to deal with both your loss and your new responsibilities. Your father instilled in you a love of Pemberley Park and its people, and I am confident you will not let them down."

"You are correct, as usual. Thank you for listening and being so understanding."

"I love Pemberley Park and I am confident the estate is in good hands. Now, may I offer you some tea and your favourite chocolate biscuits."

"Thank you, that is just what I need right now."

His grief was suffered largely in private, away from his young sister; he had no wish to upset her further by witnessing his grief which was as deep and profound as hers. He thought of his parents every night before bed and swore to them he would do everything he could to care for his sister and continue the legacy of Pemberley Park.

Darcy was pensive as he sat at the breakfast table; reluctant to discuss a topic he knew would displease his sister. "Georgie, I have been so busy this past month, and although I wish it were not so, I have not been able to spend any time with you. I believe it would be better for you to stay with our aunt and uncle at Oakmont Hall. I have written to them, and they will welcome you with open arms. They love you very much and will be able to spend time with you when you are not at your lessons or practicing your music. Would you like to do that?"

"I love my aunt and uncle, but you just came home, and I will miss you if I am not here to share our few minutes together at breakfast."

"I promise to see you every week and spend every minute during the visit with you. I feel guilty about neglecting you but when Papa died so suddenly," Darcy saw tears form in her eyes at the mention of their loss and took her small hand in his. "I was thrust into a position I thought Papa trained me for, but I was wrong; it is much more difficult than I thought. I owe it to our father and our Darcy ancestors to care for Pemberley Park as they did."

"Yes, brother, I understand. Your visits will be the highlight of my week."

"As will spending time with you, little one."

When they were together at Oakmont Hall, the siblings rode together and when they were far from the manor house, would speak lovingly of their father. They commiserated in their grief and sharing the ache in their hearts helped them both slowly heal. Georgiana never knew their mother, but she had been very close to her father. At ten years of age, Darcy knew he must stay close to his sister for as long as she needed him.

He worked hard every day to the point of exhaustion and when he tiredly walked to his chambers; his exhausted sleep was so deep he was able to forget about all the people who were depending on him for their livelihood. As the weeks and months wore on, the agony of his father's death diminished. He thought he was moving past his pain until he would be working at his desk and wanted to ring for his father to ask him a question; then the pain of his loss returned.