*This is copyright protected*
Dear reader,
I know I have a few stories on the go, but I am struggling with a hectic schedule and writers block! To get back into the swing of things, I am re-uploading a book which was enjoyed by many, and I had removed to publish. As it is nearly Christmas I wanted to put it back on here for your enjoyment.
Please let me know in the comments if you what you think... I have made some changes to the original and have even finished it!
Prologue
July 1793 – Derbyshire, England.
It was a dark and quiet evening just outside the border of the grand Pemberley, the grand country estate, of the illustrious Mr George Darcy and his family. On this ominous evening, the Gentleman's eldest son, young Fitzwilliam lay unconscious on the second story of a small rundown, abandoned cottage's bare wooden floor.
A sudden loud noise startled the eleven-year-old boy awake. Groaning quietly and opening his eyes, he was scared to find that he could see little in the darkness surrounding him. Gradually coming to his senses, the smell of smoke choked him, flooding his nostrils and burning at his eyes, the crackling of the creeping flames assaulting his ears. He screwed his eyes closed and pushed himself into a sitting position and became aware of the pounding pain in his head and brought a hand up to rub at his temple, briefly. Wincing he opened his eyes once more and tried to squint through the darkness, at first thinking that the chimney had flooded in one of the sitting rooms, but he quickly realised that was not the case when his eyes landed on the flickering of light beneath, the door across the room.
Fire!
Fear gripped him… how did he get here? Where was he and why was he alone? The last thing he could recall was being at the Matlock's, for another boring dinner with his mother and father…
Struggling to breathe, he tried to draw in a deep breath and began to choke on it. Turning on his side he rubbed his eye and squinted through his lids and moved towards the door, trying to see better, and to find a way out. The smoke was wafting beneath it towards him in thick clouds and the closer he got the more the overwhelming heat enveloped him.
His mother!
Gasping as his memories all came flooding back…
The carriage.
The highway men.
The robbery.
Where was she? Was she in a different room! He needed to find her! If outside this room was on fire, then surely so was the rest of the house. In his panicked state he rushed to stand and made to grab for the door handle, -
"No! Fitzwilliam it, it will be too hot!" wheezed Lady Anne Darcy, from behind him.
Turning at the sound of his mother's voice, Fitzwilliam felt an overwhelming relief, "Mama, where are we?" he asked, rushing over to her side.
"I do not know, son, but I am sure help is on its way! I need you to be brave for me my darling, a -" she broke off, a coarse cough crackling up from her chest. It sounded painful, but she worked to steady her breath and brought her hand up smooth his messy hair from his forehead. "I need you to stay low to the ground facing me, you will be safer that way." she finished trying to smile encouragingly to her young son.
"But -"
"My ankle is sprained badly. I do not believe it will support my weight, and I have taken in too much of this polluted air – " she broke off, as another cough wracked her body violently.
"Mama, what can I do?" Fitzwilliam asked, kneeling before his mother. Lady Anne, tried valiantly to still her coughs, not wanting to scare her son further but she was unable to get her breathing under control. Each time she took in a much-needed gulp of air, the cloying soot choked her more.
Fitzwilliam placed his small hand over hers, scrunching the fabric of her pale pink dress, now more of brownish colour. Her blonde hair had fallen to one side as though it had been pulled and she had blood staining her temple. Unable to sit still in agitation at his mother's condition, Fitzwilliam went feeling about the room desperately for water, for anything to help her dry throat but there was nothing. The small room appeared to be completely bare; - When his mother abruptly stopped coughing, he turned back to her and froze in horror, taking in her now still and unconscious form.
"Mama! MAMA!" he screamed, pressing his ear to her chest. She had a heartbeat and she was still breathing! Brushing an errand tear that had streaked down his face roughly, smudging through the dark soot that had settled upon his cheeks, he shrugged out of his coat and gently placed it over her head to offer her some protection from the fumes and laid her to her side upon the floor as she had asked him to do mere moments before. He made sure she stayed on her side, recalling a time when his sickly cousin, had suffered a seizure. Everyone had been careful to keep her sideways so that she would not choke. He did not understand what she would be in danger of choking on as she hadn't been eating or drinking anything at the time of her episode, but he kept his mother on her side to be safe.
Looking back to the door her put his arm across his mouth the flames now licking under the bottom of the door frame, when he noticed the flickering reflecting on a surface to his right, a window! Why hadn't he noticed it before, it was on the other side of the room. He rushed to it, but it was sealed shut and there was nothing to break the glass with. He tried to wipe the soot from the windowpane to see if there was anyone below, but his sleeves and hands were equally dirty, and he only made the view more distorted.
He began banging his fists against the window screaming for help, hoping that someone had come to save them. His voice became hoarse and started giving out, as he too began to choke and cough under the punishing and unrelenting clouds of smoke. Fitzwilliam paused, straining his ears listening for any sounds, but he could only hear the roaring of the fire working tirelessly to eat through the door. 'The dragon's breath' as he and his Father had always joked whenever the chimneys would smoke. Despair started prickle at the hairs on the back of his neck, if he could not find an escape, eventually he would be choked unconscious, like his mother and if that were to happen, he would not be able to save her!
He collapsed to the floor his bottom lip trembling again, as he ran his hands roughly through his hair. He was only a boy what could he do? He did not know what to do! He needed his Papa here; his Papa was big and brave, and he always knew what to do! He was the strongest and bravest man in the world! His only hope to smash the windowpane so that they could escape, was now dashed. He was not strong enough! He looked around keeping low as his chest burned as his lungs kept taking in the coarse air, his gaze falling to rest on his mother again...
An idea accosted him, it was a risky plan. If it didn't work, it would surely use up the last of his energy, but what other choice did he have? His decision made, he went over to his mother and moved her so that he could hook his arms beneath hers and dragged her over to the window. Fitzwilliam's young body tired quickly as he began to choke taking on more of the fumes. But he refused to give up until he made it over to the window. He looked to the door, now glowing in its appearance. The metal handle looked as though it were melting, the room now unbearably hot. The sort of heat, that caused one to profusely sweat, but would dry one's eyes and mouth painfully. He could feel his skin was not far from blistering and his lips were cracked and chapped.
"I will save you Mama, I promise. You must keep your eyes closed as I know you are not fond of heights." he croaked, as he had finally made it to the window. Huffing he exerted a great deal of strength in lifting his mother to rest against his thin frame, leaning forward with her slightly for added momentum. He knew not what waited for them outside of this window, nor how high up they were, but to stay here would mean certain death.
"Are you ready? On three. One. Two. THREE!" he roared, his voice cracking as he used both of their weight's, to propel him backwards, breaking through the glass and plummeting into the unknown below.
Fitzwilliam, gulped in the clean air and then held his breath, screwing his eyes closed and waited for his body to meet with the unyielding ground as they were falling… he gasped in surprise as they were suddenly plunged into cold waters. His mother's weight atop him pushing him through the depths of the water and into the waterbed. He winced, crying out under the surface and taking on water, as he felt multiple stabbings and scrapes across his back. Letting go of his mother as his ears popped and his body scraped against the rocks beneath him, he felt an oddly tingling, prickling sensation going from such a hot and dry environment to then being submerged into the cold and the wet.
Angling his body, so that his feet could find purchase on surface beneath him, Fitzwilliam kicked up with all his might, breaking the surface of the water, spluttering and splashing about as he frantically searched for his mother. He finally saw her, floating face down a little away from him.
"Mama! Mama!" he shouted, splashing over to her and bringing her to rest on his front. Looking around, blinking to clear and adjust his vision, he spied the grassy bank as short distance away and began swimming backwards, towards it. But he kept sinking beneath the surface. His arms and legs burning from exhaustion at the immense exertion he had expelled thus far. Fighting the weeds beneath the surface, menacingly tangling about his ankle's, pulling at him and threatening to drag them both under, he managed to keep his mother's head above the surface he managed to close the distance from the grassy bank at the water's edge.
After a minute or so, Fitzwilliam had to stop, taking a moment to recoup, he simply floated atop the water enjoying the cooling and soothing effects of it and the clean night air after the suffocating conditions they had just escaped.
Gazing up at the night sky, he wanted to cry and give in; he was so tired. Perhaps if he just rested his eyes a moment then he would have enough strength swim ashore to safety…? No! He would persevere he could rest once they were out of the water. Glancing behind, he could see that the edge of the lake was but a few strokes away. He could do this!
When he had finally reached the bank, he was no longer able to feel his limbs, his lungs were burning as he tried to lift his mother clear from the water, her weight now double what it had been as her dress was soaked through, causing his feet to sink into the muddy slope. He tried to use the suction of the wet earth as a way to anchor himself, but he only lost his footing, falling onto his bottom, mud splattering in all directions.
Gritting his teeth, he gave one more mighty pull, crying out with his effort when he finally managed to wrench her out of the water. He felt something give in his shoulder with a small pop, before allowing his exhaustion to overtake him. Fitzwilliam was vaguely aware of a stinging pain across his back as he stepped clear of his mother and fell to lie next to her. Vision blurring, he brought his arm up to wipe the water and mud that had begun to drip into his eyes from his brow.
"Ahh!" he hissed sharply as he pulled his arm back noting there was a shard of glass poking out of the back of his left handand then feeling a wet and sticky oozing a trickle down his face.
Too tired to realisethat hehad just cut his face,he let his left-hand fall to his side as his right hand moved and clasped his mother's handfrom where she lay beside.
"Hold on, Mama, just a little longer, Papa will find us!" Fitzwilliam croaked softly.
His last image was the cottage burningbefore him, the fumes rising and merging with the night sky as the darkness crept in from the corners of his vision to envelope him into blackness…