Authors Note: This is cross posted on AO3. I hope you enjoy the story. One day I imagined what it would be like if Elizabeth and Darcy had a daughter and this is the result! Feel free to leave me any feedback. Enjoy!

Chapter One

Maple alternated her attention between the country side passing her by and the letter she held in her hand. Only three quarters of an hour had passed, she reminded herself. She must assert self-control. A moral failing she has never been particularly talented at. Running her fingers over the sealed wax, she traced her father's initials. W.F.D. William Fitzherbert Darcy. Her finger twitched achingly to find comfort in her father's words. "I cannot." She scolded herself aloud. 'Upon arrival and after a meal may you read this.' She quoted her father.

She sighed, tucking the letter back in her bag. The trees of the countryside offered up their reminder that this is what she had wanted. Had practically begged her father for. Still her homesickness racked her body, settling in her stomach. Desperate for a distraction she reached for the letter once more. Giving into her rebellious nature, she slid her finger just under the fold of the paper next to the seal but hesitated at the last moment. Suddenly, the decision was made for her as the carriage dipped and rocked causing the slightest tear. Impulsively she tore the rest.

Voraciously she read the letter.

"Maple,

I trust you have arrived safely and have settled comfortably into your new home. The former I have great confidence in, the latter I suspect has not yet happened. You have always been impatient with your impulses. Fortunately, in this particular instance, it may work in your favor as you might be better prepared for the news to come. It has come to my attention that you shall be sharing your room with another young woman. The headmaster has assured me that the attendance this year has nearly double their usual numbers and therefore have been forced to make appropriate accommodations. Do not fret my dear. Consider this an opportunity to make a fast friendship. I must admit, upon receiving this news, I felt a rush of relief. For I have worried endlessly of your potential loneliness as you enter this new season of life.
Remember to be pleasant, gracious, and kind in your new friendships. Mind your mentors, study with enthusiasm, and write to me as often as your time allows.
Many surprises await you, embrace them.
My heart is always with you.

Your father,
W. Darcy."

Maples cheeks burned with anxiety, finding very little comfort in her father's words. Surprises? A shared room? The idea of sharing a room vexed her. No one had taught her what etiquette that entails. How shall she behave? Will she lose all of her privacy? She scanned the letter once more searching for any details that might have evaded her. Nothing. She set the letter aside, throwing her head back against the seat. How ironic, she thought, that my father, who is notorious for his long letter writing has sent me a short letter that is certainly record breaking by his reputation. This parchment has changed everything and says nothing.

Just then, something small caught her eye. She sat up. It was a little black spider making quick work of its web. Excitement trumped her anxiety at once as she leaned forward and whispered to the spider. Within a few short moments the spiders web began to take shape, not of a traditionally weaved sheet but instead a dainty and vibrant rose embroidered in its web.

Maple sat back satisfied. "Thank you," she said aloud to the spider, "Its lovely."

The sun had nearly set as the carriage came to a stop. Puffy clouds of pink and purples complimented the blue sky, Maple had only a moment to admire the heavens before the very old very grand school house demanded her full attention. 'It was a donation, from a childless late Lord. It is said he valued knowledge above all things and showed no interest in marriage.' Her father had briefed her over dinner one night. 'It has quite the reputation. I should think you will discover many oddities.'

Odd is not the descriptor that came to mind as she stepped out of the carriage and took in the small wooden bridge caressing a stream. Wildflowers burst from either side of the water creating a natural fence. The school house itself was a mix of wood and stone with moss and vines creeping up all sides of the two-story estate. Certainly, odd was the wrong word. Maples heart pounded with excitement.

"It's lovely," she said aloud to no one in particular. But the driver must have heard her as he responded with a reassuring smile, "I hear many a great thing about this institute. One of which is that the stream bleeds into a lake in the back and has many frogs." She returned his kind smile. He was not their usual driver. Mr. Darcy had employed a serviceman that was familiar with the school's location as it was tucked in the country side just east of London. "Thank you, sir."

The wooden bridge was wide enough for two people, though the footman carrying her bags gave her a respectable distance, lingering behind her as she occasionally stopped to admire the vibrant ecosystem around her. She could see tadpoles swimming upstream. The driver had already proved himself a reliable source. She took that as a good omen. Turning her attention back to the schoolhouse she noticed movement in one of the upstairs windows. A curtain had been drawn and two women looked down at her. They mirrored her curiosity.

At the front entrance a tall woman with a kind face met her. "Welcome," she said opening her hand, "to the institute of Biology for Women." With that they stepped inside.