Chapter 1

Monday night, December 2, 1811

Fitzwilliam Darcy was utterly miserable. Nearly a week ago, he had danced with Elizabeth Bennet at Netherfield, and they had argued about George Wickham, of all people. She should have been not so easily taken in by Wickham, he thought bitterly, but as he considered it for another minute, he realized that many others had been taken in by his slick tongue. Elizabeth would not have the experience to see Wickham for what he was – a dissolute rake.

In the week since he returned to London, he was more and more aware that he had fallen in love with Elizabeth Bennet. In fact, in his mind, she was his Elizabeth, and his dreams were not helping. Night after night, he dreamt of her – in the library, in the billiard room, at Pemberley, at Longbourn, in the assembly rooms where he had first seen her. During the day, he could put aside these thoughts of her, but at night – it was impossible to forget her.

He groaned and rubbed his face, trying to put aside thoughts of Elizabeth. He was tired; his sleep had been interrupted so often in the last month as he had frequently awoken from his dreams, panting and desperate for release.

Removing from his study to his bedchamber, he removed his clothing and sat down on the bed in his London home. Attempting to clear his mind of Elizabeth Bennet, he read until, eventually, he fell into a deep sleep.

Darcy found himself standing in a room in the parsonage at Rosings, Elizabeth Bennet standing in front of him, eyes blazing in anger. Anger that he intuitively knew he had caused.

He heard himself say:

"And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance."

"I might as well inquire," replied she, "why with so evident a desire of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil? But I have other provocations. You know I have. Had not my feelings decided against you—had they been indifferent, or had they even been favourable, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man who has been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?"

He felt himself blanch. Miss Bennet cared for Charles? She had smiled at him, to be sure, but that did not mean she cared for him. He turned his attention back to hear her reply:

"I have every reason in the world to think ill of you. No motive can excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted there. You dare not, you cannot deny, that you have been the principal, if not the only means of dividing them from each other—of exposing one to the censure of the world for caprice and instability, and the other to its derision for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind."

She paused, and saw with no slight indignation that he was listening with an air which proved him wholly unmoved by any feeling of remorse. He even looked at her with a smile of affected incredulity.

"Can you deny that you have done it?" she repeated.

Stunned, he replied:

"I have no wish of denying that I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your sister, or that I rejoice in my success. Towards him I have been kinder than towards myself."

Elizabeth disdained the appearance of noticing this civil reflection, but its meaning did not escape, nor was it likely to conciliate her.

"But it is not merely this affair," she continued, "on which my dislike is founded. Long before it had taken place my opinion of you was decided. Your character was unfolded in the recital which I received many months ago from Mr. Wickham. On this subject, what can you have to say? In what imaginary act of friendship can you here defend yourself? or under what misrepresentation can you here impose upon others?"

Flushing in anger slightly tinged with shame for not revealing the truth about that cad, he spoke again:

"You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns." "Who that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling an interest in him?" Elizabeth replied.

Darcy felt himself scoff in response.

"His misfortunes! Yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed."

"And of your infliction," cried Elizabeth with energy. "You have reduced him to his present state of poverty—comparative poverty. You have withheld the advantages which you must know to have been designed for him. You have deprived the best years of his life of that independence which was no less his due than his desert. You have done all this! and yet you can treat the mention of his misfortune with contempt and ridicule."

Walking quickly across the room, Darcy grew further frustrated and angry with her words. He could not believe that Elizabeth had been taken in by that man. Of course, he had told her just days ago that he was better at making friends than keeping them—she had not yet learned to distrust him.

"And this, is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed! But perhaps, these offenses might have been overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. These bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I, with greater policy, concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination; by reason, by reflection, by everything. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and just. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections?—to congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?"

"You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner." was her reply.

He started at the accusation. She saw him, Fitzwilliam Darcy, the scion of an earl, master of Pemberley, as ungentlemanlike. It was unbelievable.

"You could not have made the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it."

Astonishment crossed his face. Surely, she had thought better of him than her response indicated. She had flirted with him frequently, had she not? What was she saying? However, she was not finished with him yet.

"From the very beginning—from the first moment, I may almost say—of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable a dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry."

Taken aback at the vehemence of her reply to him, he said the only thing he could think to say:

"You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness."

With those words, he straightened and strode quickly out the door. He felt very thoroughly thrashed by her words. He had overcome all his scruples, and she had refused him. Part of him applauded her for this—there were few women who would not have flung themselves as his feet in their desire to wed to the Master of Pemberley. But not Elizabeth Bennet. Not the woman he loved. No, she accused him of being ungentlemanly and championed that reprobate over him.

He felt broken and torn. How could she believe Wickham over himself? What had he ever done to be considered ungentlemanly?

His thoughts turned to the night of their first meeting at the assembly at Hertfordshire. He heard himself speaking the words he had said to Bingley when he had attempted to persuade him to dance. "She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me."

Once again, he groaned. "She heard me that night," he suddenly realised. "I was deliberately warning her off. But why? I was bitter about being in company with Miss Bingley. I was angry about what had happened to Georgiana and at being forced to leave her." He sighed deeply. "Elizabeth did not deserve my words that night," he said out loud to the darkness that surrounded him, both literally and figuratively.

He scrubbed his hands across his face again. Once again, he considered what he had said to her in his proposal. "I was an utter fool to bring up her parents and her situation. Why would I recount all the ways she is beneath me instead of telling her how much I loved her? She will never have me, but if I cannot marry her, I will never marry. Pemberley can go to Georgiana's heir," he continued in his mind.

A new thought suddenly occurred to him, leaving him feeling pained. "Did Elizabeth love Wickham?" He returned to his bedchamber at Rosings, ignoring the demand from Lady Catherine that he join her. He lay down, and immediately fell asleep.

Tuesday morning, December 3, 1811

He woke with a start, soaked in sweat and feeling an enormous sense of loss. "Elizabeth?" he cried out, and his valet rushed into the bedchamber from the door to his dressing room. Looking around, he realized that he was not in Kent, but rather in his London townhouse.

"Simmons," he cried. "We are in London? What day is it?"

"It is the third of December, sir," his valet replied. "Yes, we are in London. Are you well, sir?"

"I am well, Simmons, merely an odd dream," Darcy said brusquely. "Is it time for me to wake?"

"It is seven in the morning, sir," answered the valet. "I would have woken you in another half an hour."

"I will rise now. Will you prepare my bath? Oh, and bring coffee, please," he requested, his voice softer than usual. The valet nodded and left the room, leaving Darcy to contemplate his dream.

"She would refuse me?" he said to himself. "She hates me—she accuses me of separating her sister and Bingley, and she accuses me of mistreating Wickham. It is not too late to deal with both of these accusations. Bingley can easily be convinced to return to Netherfield, and I believe I would like to join him. Wickham and his lies will be more difficult to deal with. I do not know exactly what he said of me, but one can presume he shared the story of the denied living. I need to warn Elizabeth, and in fact all of Meryton, about his habit of ruining women and of his running up debts and then not paying.

"I hold enough of his debts to have him jailed—but Georgiana! What can I do to protect Georgiana's reputation? Elizabeth! If I tell Elizabeth the truth about Wickham, she will be able to help me devise a plan to deal with the miscreant. And once he has left Meryton, I can invite Georgiana to visit, and she will be able to meet Elizabeth."

He sighed. "She is Elizabeth to me now. I can now admit want to marry her. I must stop denying that I love her, though I need to return Charles to her sister and do all I can to convince her that I am a gentleman, and not just in name and title, but in my actions. I will not allow that dream to come true. First, though, I will need to apologise for my words that night at the assembly."

Determined, he rose and, with his valet's help, prepared for the day.

After preparing for the day and before he broke his fast, he went into his study and wrote a note asking Bingley to call at his first opportunity. He expressly asked that he come alone, citing a need to discuss business. He then began preparing for a return to Netherfield with Charles just as quickly as they could be ready to go. However, somehow he would encourage his friend not to bring his sisters along. After some thought, a second note was sent to his cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, so they could consult together on what to do about George Wickham.

After eating breakfast and a short ride, Darcy retreated into his study to catch up on his business and correspondence in preparation for yet another absence. He was unsure when he would return to London and determined to spend as much time in Meryton as required to win the heart of Elizabeth Bennet. Several hours later, Bingley was announced at his study door.

"Darcy, I have come alone as you requested," that gentleman said as he entered the room. "It was quite the struggle to get away without my sister since she was determined to learn where I was going. Somehow, I would not be surprised if she shows up on your doorstep despite my attempts to throw her off your scent."

Darcy stood and offered Bingley a drink. "Bingley," said he, "I believe I have done you a disservice in my advice to you after we left Hertfordshire. I had no right to tell you that Miss Bennet was not in love with you. I was not the one who spent time speaking with her, and I was not the one courting her—which you most certainly were doing. If you want to return to Hertfordshire to determine for yourself what Miss Bennet feels for you, I will go with you. However, I would suggest you do not bring your sisters, as they will no doubt get in your way. And, I suggest you consult your own impressions on the matter as I am scarcely the right person to advise anyone in matters of the heart."

Bingley eyed the stoic gentleman. "That is quite a change of tune," he told his friend. "What changed your mind?"

"Bingley, I was not the one spending time with Miss Bennet; you were. How am I to judge what another woman feels for you? I myself am reticent and few people know what I am thinking or feeling because I so often hide it behind a mask. What if Miss Bennet also wears a mask of serenity? Surely you, who have spent time with her, should be able to read her more carefully. Presumably, she has let her mask down with you if she does, in fact, love you as you believe," Darcy said. "Do you not owe it to you and to her to find out what might be between you?"

Bingley nodded. "You will go with me?"

Darcy countered. "So long as your sisters remain in London. If you want, tell them you are coming to stay with me tonight, and we can leave from here in the morning. You do not have to tell them we are returning to Netherfield. Your sister, particularly the younger, will not be in favour of this course."

"Darcy!" Charles cried. "This is most unlike you."

"It is," he agreed. "However, you know as well as I do that your sisters would get in the way of your courting Miss Bennet. They want you to marry much higher, and while you probably could, if you are in love with Miss Bennet, and she is in love with you, then it would be a good match."

Bingley could not stop staring at his friend. "What has come over you, Darcy?"

"I have come to realise that I did not behave as a gentleman in Hertfordshire, and I hope to return so I might remedy that. I also left the town vulnerable to my father's godson, who is a reprobate and wastrel, and I need to take steps to stop him if I can," Darcy replied.

The two discussed their plans a while longer before Bingley returned home to order his trunks packed. Bingley had requested Darcy send a letter to reopen Netherfield and to alert the housekeeper of the two returning the following day as he was afraid if he sent it, the housekeeper would not be able to decipher his message.

Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived at Darcy House a little later after the dispatch to Netherfield had been sent. Darcy informed his cousin of Wickham's presence in Hertfordshire in the militia, and they began to discuss ways to deal with him without allowing him to ruin Georgiana's reputation. The two came up with several options, and upon learning that Bingley and Darcy would be going to Netherfield the next day, the colonel decided to join the two gentlemen at least for a few days. Perhaps seeing Colonel Fitzwilliam around the militia camp would encourage Wickham to desert, at which point the military would deal with him expeditiously.

Darcy confessed to his cousin, the person closest to him in the world, of his feelings for Elizabeth Bennet and his intention to acquaint the lady with all of his dealings with Wickham. He did not, however, mention the dream where he proposed to the lady, and she rejected him soundly.

"What are you thinking, Darcy?" the colonel demanded once the truth was known.

"I love her," Darcy replied simply. "I need her to know the truth of Wickham to protect her, and I believe that she will be able to help protect other innocents against him. I was a fool when I first arrived in Hertfordshire—I insulted her most grievously before we were even introduced, and I need to make amends for that as well. I am certain that Wickham told her a sob story of my so-called mistreatment of him, and because I had insulted her vanity, she believed Wickham's tale. I left her vulnerable to the cad. She may not have the fortune to tempt him, she needs to know the kind of man he is."

"You know she is beneath you, Darcy," Fitzwilliam insisted.

"In status and wealth perhaps," Darcy conceded, feeling his anger rising at his cousin's attitude toward the woman he cared about, "but not in character. None of that matters, however, as I love her more than I can adequately express. I will need to persuade her first to forgive me and even to believe my words against Wickham since she thinks little of my wealth and lineage. She will not accept me unless she believes me to be worthy, and I will need to strive to prove myself."

Fitzwilliam scoffed. "I cannot believe any women in England would not accept you, no matter how much you insulted them. Surely you know that you could crook your finger, and most women of the ton would come running. Many women would accept a carte blanche were you to offer it if it meant they had a chance at your wealth."

With absolute certainty, Darcy stated: "Elizabeth would refuse me." He could still feel the sting of her words from his dream. "And I believe she would slap me were I to demean her to offer her anything less honourable than marriage."

Quirking an eyebrow at his cousin, Fitzwilliam nodded. "I cannot wait to meet your lady, as I believed you would never find one to meet your exacting standards. Aunt Catherine will raise a ruckus, cousin, regardless of the female, and my father and mother may refuse to accept the daughter of a mere country squire with no connections and no dowry to speak of."

Defiantly, Darcy spoke again. "Aunt Catherine will object to any woman who was not Anne, and, frankly, I do not care what your parents think about my choice. While I would prefer they did accept Elizabeth because she is my choice, I am my own man, and neither they nor Aunt Catherine have a say in who I wed."

"You are determined to have her then?"

"I am," was the reply. "First, we must deal with Wickham, and then once he is away from Meryton, I will invite Georgiana to join us at Netherfield to meet Elizabeth. Georgie will adore her, and Elizabeth will be good for my sister. Whether I can persuade her to accept me or not, Elizabeth will help her recover from her melancholy as we have not been able to do, Rich."

This discussion ended soon, and though Fitzwilliam was not fully convinced about his cousin's choice, he felt slightly more mollified when they finished speaking. Once their plans were made, he went to his barracks to speak to his superiors about obtaining a week or two of leave.

Author's Note: The words in italics are directly from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.