This story is my attempt at the much used "Compromise Trope". I've been trying to figure out the ending for several months without success. So, I decided to go ahead and start to publish what is finished in order to force myself to complete the story. I hope to post a chapter a week. I hope that you find it entertaining.

This is unbeta'd. All the mistakes are my own. Please review.

Chapter 1

October 15, 1811

Lucas Lodge

"My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure, when so much beauty is before you."

Their host for the evening's entertainment, Sir William Lucas, took her hand and would have given it to Mr. Darcy who, though extremely surprised, was not unwilling to receive it, when she instantly drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William: "Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner."

Mr. Darcy, with grave propriety, requested to be allowed the honour of her hand, but in vain. Elizabeth was determined; nor did Sir William at all shake her purpose by his attempt at persuasion.

"You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny me the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half-hour."

"Mr. Darcy is all politeness," said Elizabeth, smiling.

"He is, indeed; but, considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complaisance-for who would object to such a partner?"

Darcy was amazed at the lady's reluctance. He was not accustomed to having young ladies refuse his petition for a dance. Most would have agreed with alacrity. After all, he was Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of Pemberley in Derbyshire, Nephew to the Earl of Matlock. His primary estate brought in more than ten thousand a year, and that was only the extent of his wealth that was widely known. His true wealth consisted of the additional ten thousand pounds earned by his seven other minor estates. Furthermore, his business investments had proved both successful and profitable making his true annual income in excess of that enjoyed by most lords of the peerage. Yes, most ladies in society would have been falling over themselves to dance with him. But he had already surmised that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was a unique young woman.

He did not completely understand what compelled him to do so but he implored her again, "Miss Elizabeth, I would consider it a very great honor if you would stand up with me for a dance." In truth, he found himself greatly desirous of dancing with her and was shockingly elated when she finally acquiesced to do so.

He had been following the young lady's every move for the entirety of the evening and had been quite taken with her artless and teasing manner as he had watched her interact with her neighbors. Her intelligence had been on full display as she had carried on rational conversations with all and sundry. She had made lively contributions to any discussion and had displayed a masterful ability for drawing out even the most reticent person. Her joie de vivre was contagious. When she had sung and played the pianoforte, he had been surprisingly enchanted. She was not technically proficient, but the emotion that she infused into her playing was lovely, and her clear mezzo-soprano voice was sweet and rich.

And now, as they stood facing one another as the set commenced, he scolded himself for staring, but she had such an impish expression in her fine green eyes that he could not look away.

Then, the lady broke the silence. She began a sparkling conversation with just a hint of a challenge in her smile. He so enjoyed following her playful turn of phrase and trying to keep up with her wit. This treacherous young lady smiled at him, and he lost all of his customary reserve. He tamped down the caution that he normally adhered to and threw himself into the moment.

As he bantered with her, he could not suppress the wide smile that stretched across his entire face. The answering look of surprised delight that she bestowed on him gave him hope that this dance would make up for his previous insulting behavior. For he had been quite churlish and rude at their initial introduction at the Meryton Assembly by refusing to stand up with her. Now, he truly regretted his former rudeness and hoped that she would forgive him for slighting her at that first ball. As the dance ended, he decided that he should seize this opportunity to set things right.

With her hand on his arm, he led her to an empty corner of the room, and she gave him a curious look with those bewitching green eyes. Unable to prevent the reddening of his face as he sought to gather his thoughts, he forced himself to press on with his confession.

"Miss Elizabeth, I owe you an apology that is long overdue. At the Meryton Assembly, I was in a foul mood and took out my bad temper on you in an unforgivable manner. The words that I spoke were both rude and untrue. For you are quite attractive, and in such a way that any man would desire to dance with you as I hope that I have proven tonight. I wish most heartily that I had conducted myself in a more gentlemanlike fashion and danced with you then. Can you forgive me for what I said at that first dance?"

She stared at him in growing wonder and delight. He knew that the blush of her cheeks probably rivaled his own. "Sir, that was a very admirable apology. I readily grant you my forgiveness and hope that we can start again as friends."

His face showed his own delight as he rushed to agree. "Yes, I would like that. Your gracious forgiveness of my earlier behavior is evidence of your superior character. Thank you, Miss Elizabeth."

They smiled into one another's eyes for a long moment before the awareness of their surroundings forced them to assume more neutral expressions and topics of conversation. When some of the other young people joined them, he was surprised that he genuinely enjoyed the lively discussion that ensued.

Two weeks later…

Netherfield Park

Darcy closely followed Bingley and Hurst into the front door of the house shaking the water from his greatcoat. The rain was torrential, forcing them to cut short their evening of dining with the officers of the local militia. They had feared that the road to Netherfield would become impassable.

The month prior, Darcy had been persuaded by his good friend, Charles Bingley, to be his guest at his newly leased estate, Netherfield Park. Located a mere twenty miles from London near the town of Meryton in Hertfordshire, the estate was perfectly situated to allow Bingley to decide if country life was to his liking. Charles, two years Darcy's junior, was an amiable young man who had been left a large fortune by his tradesman father with the hopes that he would establish the family into the ranks of the gentry and wash the stench of trade from their wealth. The elder Bingley had dreamed of seeing his son become a gentleman.

His sisters, Louisa and Caroline, had been educated at the best schools and were well-dowered in hopes that they would make advantageous matches. To that end, the previous year, Louisa, Bingley's older sister, had married Albert Hurst who was heir to a moderate estate in Sussex. Darcy found Hurst to be typical of young men in society: he cared only for cards, sport, and fine dining.

Caroline, the youngest of the siblings at twenty-two, had set her sights on Darcy from their first meeting and made it apparent that she hoped to become his wife. However, he had never reciprocated her approbation. For despite her sophisticated manner, Darcy found that she was shrewish and unkind to those that she considered beneath her, while at the same time, ingratiating to those that were above her. In the past, he had been able to tolerate her company for Bingley's sake, but since coming to Hertfordshire, she had become more persistent in her pursuit, and he could no longer tolerate her.

Darcy was surprised to be met in the foyer by Stevens, his valet. After handing his outerwear to the waiting footman, he allowed Stevens to draw him away from Hurst and Bingley as they moved into the drawing room where the Bingley sisters were waiting. As the valet whispered urgently in his ear, Darcy's expression changed from mildly curious to thunderous. He listened to the man with narrowing but unseeing eyes.

After Stevens finished his disclosure, Darcy snarled, "Are you sure? Did her lady's maid tell you this herself?"

Stevens shook his head brusquely, "No, Sir. But I overheard her in conversation with Mrs. Hurst's maid. It seemed that they both are involved in the scheme and were rehearsing their part in it."

Darcy's face was grim. "Take extra precautions tonight. But I plan to deal with this directly and irrevocably. I will not stand for this. Thank you, Stevens. Your loyalty is invaluable."

With a nod, he made his way into the drawing room.

Upon his entry, he was immediately met by the cloyingly sweet greeting from Miss Bingley. "Mr. Darcy, we are so grateful that you have returned unharmed from your evening out. The weather in this backwater is abominable. Why, I am certain that we never have such drenching rain in London."

He merely nodded in response to her ridiculous comment and moved to the window. Paying little attention to the Bingley's conversation about the evening's weather, he ruminated over the other inhabitants of the room and what Stevens had revealed to him in the foyer.

According to his valet, Miss Bingley planned to force his hand as soon as this very evening. Furthermore, it sounded as though the plans for the compromise were well in hand, and measures had already been undertaken to ensure its success. Stevens had discovered that the footman who was stationed in the upstairs hallway at night had been reassigned. In addition, he had confirmed that the decanter of brandy in his chamber had been laced with laudanum. Darcy could only guess as to how Miss Bingley had discovered that he always partook of a glass before retiring every evening.

He spent the next few moments formulating in his mind what he wished to say in order to discourage Miss Bingley from following through with her plans. He was more than a little dismayed that it had come to this, but at the same time, he was unsurprised that she would even consider such a despicable move. In the past, he had repeatedly told Bingley that he would not offer for his sister in hopes that Charles would deter her. However, Bingley had ever been ineffectual in curbing his sister's aspirations. For she tended to hear only what she wanted to. To date, none of his hints about his disinterest had penetrated her single-minded pursuit of him as a marriage partner. Therefore, he was afraid that only the most straightforward language would dissuade her. Yet, he feared that a harsh set-down might endanger his friendship with Bingley. He swore under his breath as he considered all of the pitfalls that he faced.

After weighing his options he decided that he would endeavor to be as tactful as possible while at the same time utilizing direct language to make his implications clear.

His attention was drawn back to the conversation in the room when he heard Bingley's alarmed query. "Miss Bennet is here, even now?"

Mrs. Hurst gave her younger brother an exasperated look. "Yes, Charles. That is what we have been trying to tell you. She was taken ill during dinner and has been placed in a guest room upstairs. If she is no better in the morning, we shall call the local apothecary. But I suspect it is nothing more than a cold."

Bingley looked stricken at the thought of his newest angel suffering from any discomfort. He had a habit of falling for a new "angel" regularly and preferred them to be tall, willowy, blond, and beautiful. In truth, Miss Jane Bennet, Miss Elizabeth's older sister, was one of the most beautiful ladies in the county. Since their introduction, Bingley had paid her an excessive amount of attention at every function that they had been in company.

Miss Bingley said with a superior tone and a sly look at Darcy, "Although I am vastly fond of Jane Bennet, I find the rest of the family to be reprehensible. I am sure that her ghastly mother is thrilled to have her daughter quartered here."

Bingley cried, "Now, Caroline. The Bennets have been very kind and welcoming. I will not have them spoken of so poorly." His half-hearted scold was ignored by his more strong-willed sister, and she continued to enumerate the shortcomings of the family who lived in the neighboring estate, Longbourn.

That property was one of the primary estates in the area surrounding the market town of Meryton in Hertfordshire. It had been in the Bennets possession for the past two hundred years. However, although Mr. Bennet was a gentleman, it appeared to Darcy that he was an indolent master and uninvolved parent who had provided no dowries for his five daughters. Mrs. Bennet was the daughter of a country attorney with relations active in trade, and her lack of breeding showed in her demeanor. For she was ignorant, shrill, and vulgar. She epitomized the grasping matrons of the Ton who were determined to foist their daughters off on the first unmarried gentleman that they could find. The three younger sisters were either wild and uncontrolled or pedantic and severe in manner. On the other hand, Miss Bennet, and Miss Elizabeth were everything that was genteel.

Charles' and Caroline's argument on the merits of the Bennets went on for some time. Stevens entered without notice of the bickering siblings, handed Darcy the decanter from his room, and left. Deciding that it was time to broach the subject that his valet had disclosed to him, Darcy walked to the door, motioned for the footman to leave, and closed the door.

Bingley gave him a questioning look and Miss Bingley spoke up, batting her eyes at him in what she must have thought was an attractive affectation. "Very wise of you, Mr. Darcy. You really cannot trust servants these days. Is there something special that you want to discuss?" Her smile was full of hope. In turn, Hurst suddenly appeared more interested than normal, and his wife stopped her habitual fingering of her bracelets to give him her attention.

"As a matter of fact, there is something I need to make you all aware of." Darcy looked from face to face as he spoke. "It was just brought to my attention that someone has added laudanum to the brandy container from my room." Feeling a bit theatrical, he poured a small bit of the brandy into a glass and sniffed it. He handed the glass to Bingley for his inspection and then, with a mocking, puzzled expression questioned, "For what purpose would someone have done such a thing?"

A dramatic gasp was released from both of the ladies while Hurst and Bingley continued to study him with wary expressions. Hurst answered his query matter of factly. "Sounds like the staging for a compromise, if you ask me."

Miss Bingley said dramatically, "I knew it. Miss Bennet must have come here for that very purpose." Bingley scoffed but remained silent.

"I suppose it is possible, but I doubt it." Darcy gave her a penetrating look as he said those words, causing her to shift uncomfortably and her face to redden.

At his implied accusation, her brother looked at Darcy with an inscrutable expression. The only sign that Bingley was displeased were the two spots of color that had appeared on his cheeks. Darcy could only hope that his friend's anger was directed at his sister and not himself. Surely Bingley could appreciate that he had made no outright accusation.

Darcy shrugged. Careful to keep his voice unthreatening and his expression nonchalant, he said, "But the material point is that if any woman should compromise me such that I would be forced to marry her, I would feel quite justified in making her regret her actions." Darcy went on to detail just what kind of life such a wife would experience. Maintaining his attitude of calm detachment as if he were discussing the state of the roads, he described in detail the isolation from all society that she could expect, the poor settlement, meager accommodations, etc.

Mrs. Hurst asked in a shocked tone, "But surely, Mr. Darcy, you would not treat a lady that you had come to esteem in such a cold manner?"

"Yes, I most certainly would. The betrayal alone would quench any esteem that I might feel for the lady. I would consider that she was a woman without honor. For I would feel it most keenly were my choice stolen from me. You see Mrs. Hurst, I have yet to meet the future Mrs. Darcy, but have great hopes in that regard. Be that as it may, I am a young man and am in no hurry to marry. Thus, I would take it very poorly if my hand were forced." He had added the last statements to indicate his disinterest in Miss Bingley.

After the end of his recitation, there was a heavy silence. Bingley sat staring into the flames with a grim cast to his mouth. Miss Bingley remained speechless with her eyes wide and her face pale. The Hursts were equally reticent and expressionless except for the telling blush on Louisa's face confirming that she was complicit in her sister's scheme.

Finally, Bingley shook himself out of his stupor, gazed at his younger sister, and said with harsh determination, "Darce, I think we all comprehend your need to make yourself understood. I can say with certainty that no one here will attempt to compromise you. I would not have you to be made uncomfortable."

After a few more minutes of stilted conversation, Darcy quit the room with a sense of disquiet. His friend had not reacted as well as he had hoped. Charles' face had been expressionless yet grim, causing Darcy to feel uneasy. Though he had kept his accusations vague and indirect, he felt that it had been imperative that he state his position clearly while, at the same time, avoiding offending his friend.

That night, Stevens slept on a cot in Darcy's room, but thankfully, no attempt was made on his honor. However, neither man slept well due to the fact that Stevens snored very loudly, and the cot was too small for him to sleep comfortably. Discussing the situation between them the next morning, it was decided that Stevens would return to his own bed after the next night. They felt certain that their normal precautions would be enough to ensure his security. Surely, Darcy's threats had been enough of a deterrent to keep Miss Bingley at bay. For, now that she was aware of the type of marriage they would have if she forced his hand, she would not carry out her plot. And besides, Bingley had assured him that he would control his sister.

Breakfast was quiet, but not too uncomfortable. Miss Bingley spoke quietly with Mrs. Hurst and pointedly ignored Darcy, which suited him fine, while Hurst ignored everyone while he tucked into his meal. Thankfully, Bingley seemed to have returned to his normal ebullience, and they steadily discussed estate matters.

Darcy was grateful that his diatribe of the previous evening had not appeared to have affected his friendship with Bingley. For he truly valued the younger man. Bingley was a friendly, good-hearted man who had smoothed the way for the less sociable Darcy quite often. In retrospect, he feared that he may have been too direct, but he felt that he had to make his position clear.

As Darcy was finishing his coffee, Elizabeth Bennet was shown into the breakfast room. He should have expected her appearance in light of her sister's ill health. Yet, when she was announced, Darcy was rendered speechless. She was beyond lovely. Her hair had escaped its pins and framed her flushed face in shiny mahogany ringlets, and her fine green eyes were flashing with vivacity. She looked like a beautiful wood nymph and Darcy was quite overcome.

After she was led upstairs to see her sister, he was able to regain his composure. He worriedly thought that having Elizabeth Bennet join the household would definitely complicate the already fraught situation. Yet, he mused to himself that at least he had done what he could to avoid a compromise.

Three Months Later…

February 17, 1812

London

Fitzwilliam Darcy sipped his coffee and perused the news sheets while endeavoring to appear unconcerned with the comings and goings of the other patrons in the dining room at White's. Having arrived in London only the day before from a self-imposed exile of a few months, he was anxious to take the measure of society and to determine if any rumors concerning his family were yet making the rounds amongst polite society. Glancing around surreptitiously, he detected no undue interest in his presence. A few minor acquaintances had nodded a greeting when he had first entered. But there had been no cessation of conversation as he had moved through the room to take his seat, nor had there been an increase in the hushed murmurings of his fellow club members. All appeared quite normal.

He felt the tense muscles in his back and shoulders began to ease. Directing his attention to the newspaper, he saw little to interest him there. The paper appeared to contain nothing more than the same old political squabbles, on dits, and royal intrigues. There was certainly no mention of the Darcys. No hint of scandal had made it through the drawing rooms of the Ton.

During the next hour, several of his friends from Cambridge stopped by his table to express their pleasure at finding that he had returned to town. Nothing alarming was discussed, and no sly looks were directed his way.

Darcy had been amazed that the news of his hasty wedding had not caused a greater stir in the circles of society that he inhabited. There had been some who had expressed mild surprise when his wedding announcement had appeared in the newspapers. However, his marriage garnered little interest from the gossip mongers. It was nothing short of a miracle that his name was not splashed across the news sheets.

In truth, he knew that this miracle was due to the exertions of his aunt and uncle, for they applied their considerable influence on his behalf. His aunt, Eleanor Fitzwilliam, the Countess of Matlock, was a proficient at subterfuge and concealment, and his uncle, Reginald Fitzwilliam, the Fifth Earl of Matlock, could squelch a stray rumor with the force of his glare. The Fitzwilliams had rallied around him and had carefully circulated the reports of his newly married state in only the most favorable light, painting his wife as a hidden jewel. To account for her absence from society, his relatives had spread hints that she had suffered a sudden onset of ill health which had, ostensibly, afflicted her soon after their nuptials. Hence, it became widely known that she was improving, but because of her weakened constitution, she was unable to abide the foul air of London or the extreme cold at his estate in Derbyshire. Thus, she was staying at one of his estates in the more temperate south, while he saw to business in town. He knew that eventually, he would have to bring her to London for a short time in order to avoid speculation, but he was glad that it need not be now, not while he was still so angry.

As for those people who had been witness to the shocking impropriety that had occurred in the backwaters of Meryton, favors had been called, money had changed hands, and threats had been made. However, despite the exhaustive measures that he had taken to prevent anything from leaking out of that small hamlet, the very real danger persisted that the particulars of the fiasco would come to light. Thus, for the sake of his own honor and the prospects of his sister, he had been forced to offer for the vixen. It had been three months, but he was still furious. To be stuck with such a wanton, conniving chit for a wife was insupportable.

Walking home, Darcy ground his teeth at the memory of it all, but then, grinned in evil satisfaction. For, he had taken strong measures to ensure that she was suffering as much as he was. He had unequivocally made it apparent to her that she would not be rewarded for her duplicity and meant to guarantee that she would forever rue the day that she had crawled into the bed of Fitzwilliam Darcy.