A/N - The idea came to me and I had to give it a try.
New to writing and I am not sure how swiftly I will update chapters (still in progress), but I do hope everyone will enjoy the story!
Prologue
London, 1808
Darcy stalked about the fringe of the ballroom floor. Occasionally making conversation with his friends and laughing at a comment here and a jest there, he never stayed still long enough to be importuned to dance with a sister or daughter. Still, his glower peeked through as the boldest of the young ladies attempted to halt his forward motion.
"Darcy, my friend, will you not dance this evening?" James Barlow, a friend from Cambridge, clapped him on the back. "The ladies cannot dance themselves. You had much better ask one to dance, rather than glare at them all from the sidelines."
"I do not feel like dancing this evening, Barlow. I grow so weary of these events. They are all so similar, and blending together. Especially as one sees the same guests each and every time."
"Perhaps you might enjoy the events more if you make an effort to converse with the ladies."
"Ah, but they do not converse, they titter and agree with everything I say. I could say the moon was made of cheese, and they would merely flutter their lashes at me and say 'so true, Mr. Darcy'."
Barlow threw him a grin. "Perhaps some of them may, but we must suffer sifting through the coal, to find the diamond, eh?"
"There is not one lady here worthy enough to tempt me to make the effort. I am in no mood to exert myself, when I might crook my little finger and have them all fall at my feet." Fitzwilliam Darcy's voice carried an air of hauteur and utter disdain.
His friend guffawed, slapped him on his back and walked away shaking his head. Darcy's pride, for all he was only four and twenty years of age, had become something of legend amongst their crowd.
Darcy resumed his stalking, turning toward the opposite direction.
Unbeknownst to him, his parents Mr. George Darcy and Lady Anne had entered the ballroom and upon spying their son, made their way to join him.
Barely arriving in his vicinity, when his last utterance reached their ears quite clearly.
As he walked away, the couple stared at each other in shock. In silent communication they sought out their hosts to give their greetings and apologized for departing so early.
The two kept their peace all through the carriage ride home. Informing the butler they were heading up for the night, but their son would be in later, they climbed the stairs to their suite. Barely a word was exchanged between them, until they reached the private sitting room.
Finally, Lady Anne turned to her husband -
"George, something must be done about our abominable son!"