Section I, Next Section

Chapter I.

Lady Anne rested her hand on the heavy satin curtain. She stood at the window of her sitting room, gazing at the splendour of the rolling lawns outside, as she had done a thousand times before, since she had arrived at Pemberley as a young bride. Today however was a day like no other. Today she would gaze upon the Pemberley lawns for the last time from her window. She was startled out of her reverie by the sound of Georgiana stifling a sob. She surveyed her sitting room, now empty and cold, betraying no signs of its former owner. She felt tears well up in her eyes. But this was not a time for tears.

She had cried too long for this place. She turned to Georgiana.

"Come along, dear. I believe the Rosings carriage has arrived. It is time for us to go."

The carriage crunched the fine gravel on the drive. Linking Georgiana's arm with hers, Lady Anne vacated Pemberley for the last time. With a backward glance, she contemplated for the first time in many, many years what it would be like to call another place home.

Simon Barnett folded the parcel on the counter with brown paper, before firmly securing it with twine. He raised his head only briefly as the bell rang signaling the entrance of another customer. His shop was doing well this season, he reflected.

Particularly so since young Mr. Bingley, the new master of Netherfield had announced that he would hold a ball. That announcement had caused a flurry of excitement in the neighborhood, and every hour it seemed, an anxious Mama would come into his shop to purchase a bolt of new satin or lace or muslin, keen that their daughter look their best in the company of so many rich (and unwed) gentlemen. He raised his head again at the sound of the bell, and greeted the ladies who entered. As he swept the errant dark curl that was forever falling over his forehead, he smiled at the conversation that the two young ladies were having, seemingly unaware that he was listening.

"I say Kitty, Mr. Barnett is as handsome as any of the officers, even more so I should think. What a pity that he should not have joined the army, and instead taken over his father's shop, for he would indeed look dashing in a red coat "

Her sister inclined her head in agreement.

"He is even more handsome than Mr. Bingley, I should think Lydia. How unfortunate that he should not be rich, or a gentleman. Mama says Mr. Bingley has five thousand a year. "

Simon smiled to himself. "Someday" he vowed silently to himself.. "Someday I will have even more money than their Mr. Bingley, and perhaps then she will notice me. Perhaps then I will be worthy of her of her notice."

He jumped slightly as the object of his affection walked into the shop. Reddening slightly, he greeted the lady, before turning around to enter the small room behind the shop where he could watch the lady in question without his being observed.

"Kitty, Lydia, come along, for you have spent near a quarter hour in Mr. Barnett's shop, and I dare say you have neither of you bought a single thing."

" Oh Lizzy, do you not think that Mr. Barnett is handsome? Even more so than Mr. Bingley? I think you like him even better than any of the officers" asked Lydia rather loudly of her elder sister.

"For heaven's sake Lydia lower your voice, you will be heard. "Elizabeth replied blushing furiously at both the personal nature of the question, and her sister's unguarded manner.

"Come along, both of you. Jane is waiting outside." The ladies left, leaving Simon to ponder the same question as Miss Lydia had... whether or not Miss Elizabeth found him handsome. His good looks and amiable personality had always ensured him ample female attention, but a lady of Miss Elizabeth's social standing and position was another story. He sincerely doubted if Thomas Bennet would honestly look on a match between Elizabeth and a tradesman such as himself as a desirable thing. He returned to the pile of material on the counter, and sighed despondently.

"Someday, Elizabeth. Someday I will have you as my wife. "he informed the bolt of crimson satin on the counter. As he realized that the said satin had no opinion on the subject either way, he took his large scissors to it. As the material fell in folds on the counter, Simon pondered what he would do about the situation. What he believed at first to be a silly fancy over a gentleman's daughter that would presently pass, had developed, in his mind, into something deeper.

Not one day had passed in the past year when he had not thought of that young lady, and hoped that the Gods would smile upon him. He picked up a sheet of brown paper, and placed a bolt of satin inside it before securing it with twine.

"Someday" he promised.

Mrs. Wickham surveyed the scene before her with immense pleasure. She had always known this day would arrive. She had planned it for many years, with a strategy an army General would be proud of. Today saw the realization of her fondest dream. She, Caroline Bingley had at long last taken her rightful place as mistress of the Pemberley estate. The old Darcy woman and her ninny daughter were gone for good, and Caroline was mistress. A slow smile spread across her features.

"Dear George, how I knew he would succeed." she thought. "Mrs. Wickham of Pemberley. How grand that sounds" she smiled to herself. Tomorrow she and dear George would leave for Charles' new house in Hertfordshire.

She jumped slightly at the sound of the dinner bell. "That will be the first thing I dispose of" she thought happily as she joined her husband in the dining room.

Chapter 2

Lady Anne Darcy observed her only daughter and her niece through the window of the East Wing front parlour as they walked together in the Rosings gardens in the brisk November air. Under normal circumstances it would have been unheard of to even consider allowing her invalid niece to walk in the bracing air. But, as Lady Anne reflected to herself, these were no normal circumstances, and Catherine had been keen to encourage any activity that would restore the once happy spirits of her sister and niece in these troubled times.

Had it really been only a week since they had left Pemberley? It had felt like ten. The happy times she had shared with her family there were but a distant memory. Lady Anne watched as Georgiana and her cousin passed by the small, ivy clad wall that surrounded the ornate fountain, insensible of its proud place in Darcy family history. She smiled at the memory. That wall was the spot where Master Fitzwilliam Darcy, at the proud age of 9 months and 3 days had taken his first steps. It was also the spot where the same Master Darcy had taken his first tumble, under the horrified gaze of his long-suffering Mama.

Young Master Darcy had waddled into the brick enclosure crown first, much to the horror of his mother and banged his little head so hard that his mother feared it would scar his little forehead for life.

She knew not what the result was, for only days later, while in the care of his nurse, the infant Fitzwilliam was snatched from her custody. The nurse, who had been taking baby Darcy on his daily walk around the grounds of his family estate, was accosted by men, lying in wait for the Darcy heir. The men were carrying pistols, and the nurse, frightened by the sudden appearance of armed strangers screamed loudly. The larger of the two men was startled by her shriek and pulled the trigger of the gun. What had originally been intended to be a simple kidnap of a lucrative child, had now become a murder, and frightened for their lives, the two men fled with the infant in tow. George Darcy, alerted by the nurse's screams and the gunshot that followed rushed to the scene, but found only the body of nurse and no sign of his son. A massive search began for the baby, but the men, too frightened to return the infant stayed in hiding for a year with the baby, while the police combed the countryside. A private investigator from London was hired by the Darcy family to search England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales for baby Fitzwilliam but to no avail. In the twenty seven years that had passed since that tragic day, Lady Anne had never set eyes upon her beloved son again, and had carried a guilt with her that she had been remiss in her duties as a mother to have allowed this to have happened. She and her husband had never been the same since, and despite the birth of a daughter, Georgiana, some twelve years later, the cold air of despair that had settled over Pemberley the day its young master had been stolen had never lifted. The once happy house that hosted the grandest balls in the neighbourhood no longer welcomed society into its halls. The family no longer solicited the society of others, and save for the attentions of Anne's sister Lady Catherine, the Darcy's invited no one, nor accepted the attentions of anyone, so consuming was their grief. Not a day went past when Anne did not think of the beautiful little son she had once had. He would be twenty-eight now... was he a husband or father? Was he in England? Had he been cared for well? She had a million questions. Did he call another Mama? Was he even alive? A sigh escaped from her lips. There were no tears. No tears could she shed any more for her baby. The sound of the heavy oak door opening to admit its guests startled Anne out of her reverie. It would do no good to dwell on it. As the bell gonged for dinner, with a heavy heart she followed Georgiana and her namesake into the dining room.

Despite the occasion of his twenty-eighth birthday Mr. Barnett had spent the greater part of the day in town accompanied by Mr. Phillips, the Meryton attorney. He oft sought the older man's counsel on business affairs believing him to be a man of great sense and intelligence. The same it could not be said however of his wife, Mrs. Phillips, a giddy creature not unlike her sister Mrs. Bennet, mother to his beloved. He oft wondered how a creature of such sense and intelligence such as Elizabeth Bennet could be of the same blood as Mrs. Bennet. He privately suspected fairies had taken away the real Elizabeth Bennet in the night, and the beautiful lady he loved so dearly, Miss Bennet, was but a foundling. Business was thriving, and he had sought the counsel of Elizabeth's uncle on the wisdom of purchasing the adjoining premises to his own. Now, spent by the days travelling, he retired to bed early. He caught sight of his tired countenance in the looking glass on his night table. His eyes were bright with fatigue, and the normally clean shaven countenance was darkened with growth.

He stifled a yawn. He ran a hand over his face, his bright eyes and disheveled appearance distracting his gaze from the tiny scar that ran along the top of his forehead, just below his hairline... it was a scar that had preoccupied his thoughts on many an occasion in the past... for never had Simon Barnett been able to recollect when it had formed. Favouring reading as he did in his younger day, he knew for certain that the scar on his forehead was not the result of some athletic misadventure and had concluded long ago that it must have been formed during his infancy. He resolved to query his sister Tabitha about it the next day. Yawning, he blew out the candle on the night table and went to sleep.

Lady Catherine drummed the richly carpeted floor of the second drawing room in the East Wing of Rosings with her ornate cane, her once handsome features contorted in intense disgust.

" Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?" she demanded of nobody in particular.

"Fornication. Debauchery. Seduction. Is this what we have been reduced to?" she raged at that same absence of person in the room. Her family and staff, long accustomed to Her Ladyships temper had wisely vacated that particular wing of Rosings Park some time earlier. "This is not to be borne." she thundered.

The object of her discontent, the new master of Pemberley, Mr. George Wickham. Having pleaded heavy business commitments, he had stayed at Pemberley while his wife, Caroline, visited her brother, who had lately acquired an estate in Hertfordshire. Mrs. Wickham, in the opinion of Lady Catherine was a woman of neither class, taste or superiority of mind. Lady Catherine had been severely displeased at the alliance and had deigned to inform Mr. Wickham of this opinion. Now, a mere eight months as man and wife it appeared that Mr. Wickham had tired of his wife's conjugal allurements, and unbeknownst to Caroline had taken a mistress under his wife's very nose.

Not content with the allurements of the upper classes, Wickham had taken up with the wife of the Lambton postmaster. Flaunting his jezebel (for Lady Catherine, a lady of extensive breeding and refinement contained no such language in her extensive vocabulary to truly describe this lady) in front of the neighborhood was not enough for Wickham it seemed, he was intent, Lady Catherine believed, on dragging the good name of Pemberley through the mud with him. A report of an alarming nature had reached her Ladyship at Rosings. Mrs. Sinnott, the wife of the Postmaster was this seven- month with child. No strange situation for a married lady to find herself in, except that Lady Catherine (and indeed every respectable citizen of Lambton it seemed) had it on very good authority that the same Mr. Sinnott had but a year past suffered from an illness that had rendered him incapable of fathering a child. Not content to accept the child as his own and censure his wife accordingly, the man had thrown his wife out of his house. Mrs. Sinnott, finding herself with neither shelter nor food and with her time rapidly approaching turned to Wickham. He duly assisted.

To the indescribable horror of Lady Catherine, Mrs. Sinnott was now the personal maid of Caroline Wickham.

Caroline shifted uncomfortably in the barouche box, unable to rest. Her new maid, Mrs. Sinnott had nodded off some time earlier. She was in a delicate situation, nearing the end of her confinement (though if the truth were told Caroline reflected she had not seemed all that confined).

Her maid's husband was a wicked and cruel man, Caroline knew. In her seventh month, Mr. Sinnott had cast her from his house and into the street. Mrs. Sinnott had been unable to attend to her household duties due to her pregnancy, and the cruel man had cast her from the house. Caroline had been appalled. Her kind husband had appealed to her to find a position for Mrs. Sinnott in Pemberley, perhaps as a seamstress? George had suggested. After all when their own children arrived they would require a great deal of garments sewed. Caroline smiled as she thought of her great act of kindness toward the unfortunate lady. In employing her as her own personal maid, Caroline felt she would be able to bestow a degree of dignity upon her unfortunate situation. What good was it being a lady of such influence in society as herself, if one could not show those in the lower classes a charitable and more appropriate way to behave? Caroline felt truly saintly as the barouche trundled toward Netherfield.

"I believe him to be a young man of outstanding character. He possesses both sense and intelligence, and has one of the sharpest minds for business that I have ever come across. "Mr. Phillips spoke glowingly of his young friend. Sitting in the library of his brother-in-law's house, the two men were enjoying an afternoon of solitude away from their respective wives. "Indeed"his brother concurred, "I knew his family well. They were respectable people... not unlike my own situation their property in Meryton was to be entailed away from them upon the death of the elder Mr. Barnett . They were indeed fortunate that Mrs. Barnett bore a son in her later years. I believe Mrs. Ross is near twenty years her brothers senior." Mr. Bennet surveyed his library. "I find it hard to believe brother, that the next occupant of this room will ever peruse an intelligent volume from these shelves. My cousin was blessed with neither sense nor spine. Had he been born a female I believe he would have turned out as silly a girl as Kitty or dare I say even Lydia."

Their solitude was interrupted by the return of their wives. "Mr. Bennet, Mr. Bennet, have you heard... Mr. Bingley's sister Mrs. Wickham is to attend the ball tomorrow evening! Is that not exciting news? The lady is the mistress of a very fine estate in Derbyshire. How fortunate it would be if our dear Jane were to marry Mr. Bingley. What fine relations she should have!!" Mrs. Bennet paused for breath. Mr. Phillips laughed. "I believe sister, you will have chosen a husband for all of your daughters soon! Let me suggest that my friend Mr. Barnett would be a fine match for your Lizzy. "The attorney was not altogether insensible of Barnett's regard for his niece. "Mr. Barnett?!!" she spluttered. "Brother, Mr. Barnett is in trade!! He would never do for Lizzy. You must know that I intend her for Mr. Collins. She will be very lucky as his wife, she will enjoy the patronage of Lady Catherine De Bourgh, and she will inherit Longbourn upon Mr. Bennet's death. No, brother, Mr. Barnett is entirely unsuitable."Mrs. Phillips clucked in agreement.

With this statement, she bustled from the room calling for Hill. Mr. Phillips left Longbourn that evening privately thinking what an injustice it would be to his lovely niece to marry her off to that buffoon. He knew Lizzy cared nothing for the company of her cousin, nor the riches of Lady Catherine. Thinking of Simon, he privately resolved to further the young man's cause.

Charles Bingley surveyed the grounds of his new residence with pleasure. The previous owner had not been remiss in his duties as a landlord, and when the house came into the possession of Charles, he had been pleased to find it needed no attention on his part to raise it to the standards to which he had always been accustomed.

Since he had announced the forthcoming ball to the neighborhood, he had taken to making daily inspections of the property, a habit he learned from his father before him. He wanted the house to look at its finest when Netherfield opened its doors to the local gentry and aristocracy. Charles greatly anticipated the ball. Since the grand affair at Ashton Park, home of his great friend Lord Anthony Bourke, he had relished the idea of presiding over a ball at his own estate. Since Anthony's marriage of late, he had been too consumed with the new Lady Bourke to throw any parties, and Charles was taking the opportunity to show off his new estate to his friends. He thought of Felicity, and how she would enjoy a little company. He pitied the new Lady Bourke a great deal. Lord Anthony's estate was in Derbyshire, not ten miles from the home of his sister Caroline, and since her marriage, Lady Felicity had seen more of Mrs. Wickham than she had of her own husband. Caroline had decided to take Lady Bourke under her wing, (for there were plenty in his sister's choice of millinery, Charles had observed) and had taken it upon herself to adopt Felicity as her particular friend. The newest member of the Derbyshire set was much to be pitied.

Aside from her dealings with the Bourkes, Charles was less than pleased with Caroline's behaviour of late. Since her marriage to Wickham, she had changed in all essentials of personality. His sister had never been the most tender-hearted of souls, he had to admit, but of late she had acquired a maliciousness in her temper that had not been there before. One only had to look at her treatment of Lady Darcy to see how she had changed since her marriage. Charles, as indeed had their elder sister Louisa, had been appalled when Wickham and Caroline had evicted Lady Anne and her daughter from Pemberley. The action had displayed a meanness of spirit that Charles had never before seen in Caroline.

Turning his thoughts to more pleasant matters, he contemplated the arrival of one Miss Jane Bennet. He had been rather taken with the eldest Miss Bennet. She was the eldest of five sisters, and possessed a sweetness of temper that had impressed Charles like no other had ever done before. Had Anthony been around to see Jane's effect on him, he would have laughed it off, having seen his friend fall violently in love with pretty young ladies on many a previous occasion. But Miss Bennet was not just a pretty young lady. He had seen beautiful young ladies in his time. Indeed, eager Mamas, and a national shortage of rich young men had ensured that Charles was never long without a lady to be seen with, but in all of his twenty two years, he had rarely encountered one with the grace, the poise, and the intelligence of Jane Bennet. Indeed, the only such lady who had ever come close to Jane's temperament was now firmly installed as the mistress of Ashton Park.

Had Anthony been any less of a friend to Charles, he would have resented his acquisition of Felicity as his wife. Sometimes he would wake in the dead of night, and regret that he had ever introduced Lord Anthony Bourke to the lovely Miss Felicity Kendall. Seeing his friends' happiness in marriage, he began to wish such a desirable state for himself. He was glad that Anthony would be at Netherfield later that afternoon. He was in need of the counsel of the steady head of his oldest friend.

Lizzy looked ruefully at the hem of her pink muslin. Really, Elizabeth she scolded herself. At the age of nearly one and twenty you should be beyond such childish behaviour.

The childish behaviour in question was Elizabeth's climbing of the apple tree in the Longbourn garden to pick some dozen apples for her friend Charlotte Lucas, who was ill in bed with a head cold. Charlotte had always been partial to the apples that grew in the Longbourn orchard, and on more than one occasion in their childhood they had been grounded by their fathers for climbing the trees. Neither Papa applauded such unladylike exhibitions from their daughters, and stern action had been taken. Not since she was twelve had Lizzy ascended the apple tree. At twenty she was not as agile as she had once been, and to prove to her this loss of childish agility, Lizzy had slipped on the bottom branch on her descent, tearing her pink muslin dress.

Not being a family of any obvious wealth, new gowns were a rarity, and Lizzy, not long being in the possession of this one, resolved to walk to Meryton to purchase some new material. She would add a different colour trim to the hem, and the dress would be as good as new.

Loath as she was to admit it to herself, she believed she had developed a childish partiality to the Meryton draper. Until the moment of Lydia's pert questioning in the shop, she had not realised that she always looked forward to a visit to his shop, for reasons that did not concern satin; or muslin for that matter. He was a strikingly handsome young man. Lizzy being a creature of sense was not given to girlish infatuations, but this time she had been unable to shake off the tension present in her stomach when she walked into the shop. She had not been able to stop herself automatically scanning the premises for his person, only to be disappointed when he turned away to leave the room. She had avoided his gaze on many an occasion when he had caught her staring at him in the church. Elizabeth was ashamed of her silly behaviour. She was nearly as bad as Lydia !!!

A visit to the shop was unavoidable today, however. That dress must be repaired, before Mama found it in its shredded state. Walking quickly to the house, she called to her sister Jane, to inquire if she wished to accompany her to Meryton.

Tabitha Ross was at a loss to answer her brother's question. No, she could not recollect any occasion in his infancy that had caused the tiny scar on his forehead. She wondered what had prompted the question. In her experience, young men with important matters of business permanently on their minds were less than interested in tales of their babyhood, a situation that had suited Tabitha, for she had been asked no question that she did not readily have an answer.

For many years she had known that there had been something not quite right in the circumstances of her brother's birth. She had been a married woman, expecting her first child when her parents left Hertfordshire for nearly a year. No explanation was given for their sudden absence, other than the death of a distant relative that Tabitha had never met, or indeed heard of, who lived in Derbyshire. The property of this Aunt Miranda Barnett had been left to Tabitha's father, and it was here that they had spent that year.

By the time they had returned to Meryton, Mrs. Barnett, a lady of some fifty years or so, had given birth unexpectedly to a baby son. The birth was a timely blessing, seeing as the Barnetts would have lost their newly inherited Derbyshire home, as well as their business in Meryton to a distant cousin of Nathaniel Barnett's. What had made no sense to Tabitha was the fact that when her parents returned from Derbyshire, their new son was near a year old, of this particular Tabitha was convinced. The baby was walking and babbling as most infants do at that age. Her mother should have been nearing the end of her confinement when she left Meryton in that case, and Tabitha, who was with child herself at the time, knew her mother was expecting nothing more when she left Hertfordshire than a fine house.

These thoughts she had kept private for the past twenty eight years. She had raised Simon herself with her own young ones, due to the sudden death of her parents a few years later, and loved him as a son. The only time these treacherous thoughts came to the surface was when Simon asked a question about his infancy. Tabitha had no idea where he had gotten that scar. It had been present on his forehead when he had returned home with her parents all those years ago, but they had made no mention of it.

The door closing in the hall heralded John's arrival home from work. Her husband was the head gardener at the Netherfield estate, a post he had retained all of his working life. There was great excitement at the big house, as the young master had decided to throw a ball to announce his arrival into the neighbourhood. Not that he needed any announcing, mind, every Mama from here to London knew of Mr. Bingley. He had been determined as a suitable husband for many the rich young lady. And many not-so-rich, she thought, thinking of Mrs. Bennet and her five daughters. The new master was keen to present the fine house at its best to his friends, and John, and their youngest boy Nathaniel were working hard to have the place spick-and-span for the ball. She was proud of her hard-working husband. Turning her attention to the hungry men who had just entered the kitchen she dished up the evening meal. Ignoring the slight feeling of unease at the sight of her only sibling, she greeted him warmly as he entered the kitchen.

Joseph blinked furiously as the sunlight assailed his eyes and his senses. The pale November sun glared upon him, and he winced involuntarily as he caught sight of his reflection in a shop window. He was tired, in bone and in spirit. The past twenty eight years had been for him a hellish existence, and this was reflected in the stooped figure and deeply etched face.

He wondered about the flaw in his character that had caused him to do what he did all those years ago.

The guilt had gnawed at him, eaten him, for many a year now, but he was determined as ever to make good for the grievous mistake of long ago.

He had been lucky to escape execution, or worse the prison ship to Cook's Island for what he had done to the Darcys. The circumstances of the past twenty eight years had been a bitter irony. After avoiding the law, selling the child, and seemingly getting away with the perfect crime, he had been wrongly convicted of assaulting a gentleman in London, and had been imprisoned accordingly. When his conscience had began its relentless assault some time later, he had been in prison, and unable to even begin to rectify what he had done. He knew what he had to do however.

Boarding the stage for Derbyshire, he resolved in his mind to find the child and right the wrong of so long ago.

Chapter 5

George Wickham could not help but laugh at the situation. The sight of Caroline leaving with Alice Sinnott in tow brought tears of mirth to his eyes. Alice was profoundly grateful to be living at Pemberley. She had been unceremoniously ejected from her husband's house when he learned that she was with child. George of course agreed with Mr. Sinnott. Had Caroline behaved in such an outrageous fashion he would have had no choice but to remove her from his house also. After all, one had a reputation to think of.

George Wickham reflected on the sheer stupidity of Alice to allow herself to fall with child by him. Women were such emotional creatures, and he had been more than a little shocked when she had declared that she was in love with him, and, furthermore was expecting George's child. (At least he assumed that it was his child). He had been more than a little displeased when she had turned up, literally, on his doorstep late one night after she had been thrown out of her house by her irate husband. George had been furious. She had shown no compassion for his situation. What must it have looked like, when she turned up on the door in her condition at that hour of the night? What was the silly woman expecting? That he divorce Caroline and marry her instead? Good God. He congratulated himself at his quick thinking, persuading his wife to take her on as a member of the Pemberley staff. George would have been happy to keep Alice below-stairs, out of sight, but Caroline insisted on taking the lady on as a personal maid. Well, she would have her way! Watching the two leave for Pemberley, one could not help laughing at the irony of the situation.

George was at a loss to know what to do with Alice, however. His little dalliances in the past had never let themselves get with child, as it were, or indeed fall in love with him, and he was unsure whether or not to let her stay on at Pemberley after the birth. God forbid the child might look like him!!! Perhaps it would be for the best if she was persuaded to leave. After all he had shown her great charity in allowing her to stay in Pemberley, and she could surely expect no more from him. On the other hand, he mused, Caroline did spend a great deal of time away from Pemberley, and Alice did have her attractions....

His thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of his steward.

"Good Morning Sir. Here are your letters, just come by morning post."

The steward left the post on the master's mahogany desk.

"If you please sir, Edward Smith, one of your tenants from Lambton wishes to speak with you. He is waiting in the hall. Shall I bid him come in?" George frowned.

"Really James, I have no time to deal with the trifling concerns of a pig farmer. Tell him to go away, I'll deal with him at my convenience, not at his."

James nodded. "Very good Sir. As you wish."

With that James left the room. George mused on how difficult it was to be a landlord to such a great estate. He had been very young when Mr. Darcy had died, and being without father or guardian, Lady Anne believed it to be for the best when she sent him away to school at a very young age. As a result he had received very little formal training in how to run the great estate.

It was at that very moment that George decided that he deserved a holiday. He had been under a great deal of stress this past month, what with Alice, and Lady Catherine, and he was in need of some merriment. And where better to find some than at the home of his brother Charles? If he hurried he would be in time to make it to the ball. Calling for his steward, he went upstairs to oversee the preparations for his journey to Hertfordshire

Lady Anne smiled at her sister. Catherine had been most kind, nay, some might say even tender of late to herself and Georgiana, and Catherine's' latest proposition was met with smiles by all parties.

Georgiana, Lady Anne believed, was in need of some gaiety, and some fun, as indeed was young Anne who had spent most of her life in the company of only her mother and Mrs. Jenkinson her governess, and a change of scenery and society would do the two girls some good.

Lady Catherine had decided to take a house in Hertfordshire for a few weeks, near a small village called Meryton. Lady Catherine's clergyman, the Rev. William Collins had lately left Hunsford to visit his relations there, (a family of no real consequence according to Catherine by the name of Bennet) and from the five daughters of his cousin Bennet, he had decided to select a wife. On such a matter of great importance such as this, Lady Catherine felt that he was painfully ill-equipped, and incapable of choosing a bride by himself.

Lady Catherine had therefore decided to do him the very great honour of accompanying him to Hertfordshire to guide him in his selection. On a more grateful recipient she could not have bestowed her generosity, Lady Anne observed.

The four ladies were to take a house for a few weeks, to give Catherine ample opportunity to vet Rev. Collins choice of wife. Lady Anne was grateful for the change of scenery. She had been longing to leave Kent, ever since she had arrived at Rosings. The news had reached her by way of her sister that Wickham had installed his mistress in the house, under his wife's very (long) nose, and Anne wondered where she had gone wrong as his guardian.

His father, Old Mr. Wickham, had been an excellent man, beloved by both the master and mistress of Pemberley. When Mr. Wickham was killed in an accident on the Darcy Estate, Mr. Darcy, feeling responsible for the death of his friend took in his young son, and treated him as his own. By that time, the extensive search that had taken place for Fitzwilliam had been scaled down, and eventually called off. A heartbroken Mr. Darcy began to see the child Wickham as his own son, and intended to make for him an ample provision in his will. Of course he would not inherit Pemberley, that would of course go to the next son of George and Lady Anne Darcy, but George Wickham would be amply provided for, and given a gentleman's education and living.

After the birth of Georgiana, a provision was made in Mr. Darcy's will stating that he and his wife were the sole guardians of George Wickham, and an order was made that he should receive a stipend every year from his eighteenth birthday.

Alas, however, Mr. Darcy was himself killed not five days after this fateful amendment was made to his will, leaving his wife a widow, and leaving Pemberley with no heir other than George Wickham.

Anne wiped away a tear that had fallen and sighed heavily. She wondered what it was she had done in her life that was so very bad to allow the Lord to take away from her two of the people that were most precious in her life. In the Second Drawing Room of the East Wing at Rosings, she sobbed until she thought her heart would break.

At three o' clock on the afternoon of the 25th of November, the Bourke carriage pulled up at the door of the Netherfield estate. Charles watched his two friends alight from the carriage with pleasure.

"Anthony, Lady Bourke, how delighted I am to see you both. Welcome to Netherfield. I trust you had a comfortable journey."

Both answered in the affirmative. Charles had never seen Felicity look so well. She looked radiant. It seemed marriage agreed with her.

"Come into the house. You both must be in need of refreshment."

The little party was momentarily distracted by the arrival of a courier. Charles frowned when he read the letter.

"Problem, Bingley?" asked Anthony. "Nothing that can be remedied old friend. Caroline's husband is to join us after all it seems. He will be arriving tomorrow."

As they entered the house, he called to Mrs. Sinnott, who was sewing baby garments at a table in the corner of the room.

"Mrs. Sinnott, would you be so kind as to instruct your mistress that her husband will be joining us tomorrow."

He watched the lady as she awkwardly rose from the chair at which she had been seated, and privately wondered why on heaven's earth would Caroline employ a married lady at the end of her confinement as a maid.

"I wonder at Caroline's maid. Surely her husband minds that she is so far removed from her home at such a time."

Bingley wondered out loud. Neither gentleman noticed the surprised look that had crossed Lady Bourke's face when she had noticed who was seated at the table. For the former Miss Felicity Kendall, of Lambton, Derbyshire, was perfectly aware of why Mr. Sinnott should not be missing his wife at this time having been filled in on the happenings at Pemberley by her mother. She was also very aware of why the lady had been installed in Pemberley, and by whom. The fact that the major players involved in that particular scandal should now be residing at the home of her great friend Charles Bingley gave her no pleasure indeed.

She had informed neither her friend or her husband of the scandal, as she knew how fond Charles was of his sister, and how it would give him no pleasure to see his family presented in a bad light. She sincerely hoped nothing of the scandal would become common knowledge in Meryton. She could not bear to see Charles hurt by it all. She privately resolved to keep Caroline and her maid occupied enough at Netherfield, that Mrs. Sinnott would have no time alone with Mr. Wickham.

It was the day of the Netherfield Ball. It dawned crisp and clear, and all of Hertfordshire found it had been touched by the hand of Old Jack Frost while it slept. Inside the Bennet home the matriarch of the family found her nerves all a-fluster over the impending ball.

"Hill, Hill, oh where is Hill? My nerves, girls, my nerves, does no one have compassion for my NERVES? "

She screeched frequently throughout the morning. The subject of her discontent-the (very )Reverend William Jehosifah Xavier Aloysius Percival Collins the Second, cousin of her husband Mr. Bennet. Unwittingly Mr. Collins had grieviously upset his cousin Mrs. Bennet. The family had been expecting a visit from the aforementioned Rev. Collins for some weeks now, and privately, Mrs. Bennet resolved to do all in her power to further a match between Mr. Collins and her daughter Elizabeth. Prior to his taking orders, Mr. Collins had "extended an olive branch" to his cousins family, and had paid them a visit of some duration the previous summer, and Mrs. Bennet had noticed that Mr. Collins had paid particular attention to her eldest Jane (for who would not?) but now with the arrival of Mr. Bingley and his entourage to Netherfield, Mrs. Bennet had decided in her wisdom that he would do very nicely for Lizzy instead.

And how could Elizabeth object to the match? Mr. Collins, on his last visit had regaled the family with tales of his future patroness, the Right Hon. Lady Catherine De Bourgh, mistress of Rosings Park in Derbyshire. He had been extremely lucky to have secured such a noble benefactress as Lady Catherine, and would take up the valuable parish at Hunsford, adjacent to the Rosings estate after he took orders. Privately Mrs. Bennet wondered was her cousin in fact secretly in love with Lady Catherine.

The same gentleman had been due to pay his family another visit, but just that very morning Mr. Bennet had received a letter from his cousin informing him of a change in his plans.

It seemed that Lady Catherine had decided that a change in scenery was called for, and she and her sister Lady Anne Darcy had decided to take a house near Meryton for a few weeks. To Mrs. Bennet's utter dismay Mr. Collins had been asked along as one of the party, and he felt a particular duty to the party, comprising as it did widowed and unmarried ladies. He felt assured that his good cousins would not look on his absence as a slight on them or their very comfortable arrangement at Longbourn, and he hoped most fervently that he would see all his fair cousins during his time in Hertfordshire, and if Mr. Bennet would be so good as to bestow upon the eldest Miss Bennet his particular felicitations.

Well Mr. Collins had been mistaken. She had been most slighted by the turn of events. If he thought he could have her Jane or dare say even Elizabeth after what had transpired that gent (if one could even call him that) was most mistaken in his assumptions. She would instruct the girls not to dance with their cousin if he should be invited to the ball that evening.

And with a determined look on her face Frances Bennet alighted the staircase in the direction of the bedchamber of her eldest daughter-but-one.

It was starting to snow rather heavily Lady Anne reflected. She had been helping her daughter and niece to dress for the ball at Netherfield that evening. Being only in the neighbourhood one day, she had not expected an invitation of any sort so very soon, but it had transpired that Lord Anthony and Lady Bourke of Ashton Park were visiting the estate of friends of theirs and with due regard Mr. Bingley of Netherfield had extended an invitation to the family of De Bourgh (and Mr. Collins) for his Opening Ball that evening.

Not being a lady in the habit of accepting invitations of persons that she had never been introduced to, she would have been reluctant to accept the invite, had it not been for the fact that it had been extended by a friend of Anthony and Felicity. Lord Anthony Bourke was the nephew of Lord Louis De Bourgh, her late brother-in-law, and was the most dear to her of all of her nephews. He was possessed of friendly and open manners, a quality that had endeared him to all who met him. Since his marriage he had not been a frequent visitor at either Pemberley or Rosings, and Lady Anne looked forward to seeing him again.

Besides the prospect of meeting Anthony, Lady Anne was grateful for any excuse to separate herself from the odious Mr. Collins. She felt very sorry for any of the young Bennet ladies that may well be forced to accept the hand of that rather, well, greasy, individual. Lady Anne was not entirely insensible of the fact that his connection to her sister made him rather eligible on the marriage market. She sorely pitied the next lady to carry the name Mrs. Collins.

Fixing Anne's hair into something that resembled a fashionable style, Lady Anne left the young ladies to their own devices and left to arrange her own hair into something that resembled a fashionable style.

Elizabeth sat in her bedchamber while Sarah arranged white roses ornately in her dressed hair. She was aware of the fact that she was not an unattractive young lady and she wished to appear at her best at the ball that evening. She was also acutely aware her family may not appear to their best advantage at the ball that evening, and she wished to give Jane at least one sibling to be proud of. She hoped for her sister's sake that Mr. Bingley was possessed of inferior hearing, for she had a suspicion that Mary would wish to grace the party with her pianoforte talents.

She also felt a little melancholy that evening. She knew Mr. Barnett would not have received an invitation to the ball at Netherfield, being socially in a lesser league to Elizabeth, and was sorry that she would not see him. Never before had she met a man that had this effect on her, but socially, if not financially, they inhabited two different spheres of existence and for now at least, she would have to be content with the visits she made to his premises along with her sisters for the frivolities she found it so urgent of late to possess. (Such as, for example, large quantities of lace. And muslin).

Had she been aware of the fact, she would have been quite disturbed to know that the real reason her Mama had been so pleasant to her of late was that the lady believed, at long last, her Lizzy was getting sense and searching for a husband from among the regiment of officers that were quartered in Meryton for the Winter.

It was the loud arrival of Lydia into her bedchamber that shook Lizzie out of reverie. Gathering up her things she quitted the chamber and aided Jane in her preparation for the festivities ahead.

Joseph Braithwaite was exhausted from the journey. His travels and enquiries had taken him to Derbyshire but no further. It seemed that the man that had paid him for the stolen baby all those years ago were not of these parts, the house they owned then having been sold years ago to a gent by the name of Binglord, or Binglet or some such name. The housekeeper was not sure of the particulars since the gent in question had never occupied the house.

The maid at the Inn refilled his glass.

"Can I get you something else to eat Sir?" she asked kindly.

In truth Hannah felt sorry for the old man. He seemed to have no family, and his careworn expression told her he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He had stayed at the Inn some weeks now, poring over old documents, and asking dozens of questions about the Big House.

"Hannah, who is in possession of the Big House at the moment. I thought it was owned by a family by the name of Darcy."

"Aye, Sir, it was until very recently. A gent by th' name of Wickham owns the place now. Lady Darcy and Miss Darcy left a while ago. I know because my brother used to be an under gardener till they left. But the new master got rid of many of the staff. He's leaving for London soon, my brother. Tis not easy to find work 'round these parts "

Hannah paused for breath.

"Mr. Wickham is not all liked Sir, if you're thinking of looking for work there....." Hannah lowered her voice "Some even say he fathered the child of Mrs. Sinnott and that's why her husband threw her out of the house."

She blushed, speaking of such matters.

Joseph frowned.

"Did the Darcy's have no children then Hannah? Did they sell the house?"

"No, Sir, Miss Darcy is the same age as myself. But before I was born, the heir of the estate was kidnapped and never recovered. Some think the little laddie was spirited away by faeries Sir, because there was no money demanded by those who had taken him. His nurse was my late Aunt Sarah, who was murdered by the kidnappers on that very day, as she tried to save the little boy from them who would do him harm."

She paused for breath.

"And he was never found?" Joseph knew the answer to this before Hannah spoke.

"No Sir. Never seen again." she lowered her voice some more.

"Although I do seem to remember talk around that time that he'd been sold to a couple not from 'round here. My sister Bessy was a maid at this very Inn all those years ago and she swears she saw a young man hand over a baby to an elderly couple behind this very Inn, and that the old man gave the young man a bag full of money for the baby."

Joseph froze. The deal and the exchange of the baby to those people had been done behind this Inn. It had been a stupid place to carry out a handover, he knew, but they had been so desperate to get rid of the child. Had they been caught with the Darcy heir in their possession, they would surely have been executed for it. It had been better to sell the child and cut their losses.

Hannah continued. "Bessy thought she had dreamt it, or that she had made a mistake, 'till her husband who was the stable hand at the Old House till Mrs. Miranda Lewisham died, told her the house was to be inherited by the old lady's cousin from Hertfordshire. The new owners threw a party for the staff when they took over the house, and what do you think, it was the same people Bessie saw behind the Inn, with the very same baby, that they said was their son that they had brought from Hertfordshire with them. But they didn't stay long in the house. The place was sold in the year."

Joseph jumped out of the seat.

"Hannah, if you could get the proprietor for me, I will be settling my account. I must leave immediately. There isn't a moment to lose."

That very night, Joseph left for Hertfordshire in search of the boy.

"Miss Georgiana Darcy, I would like to introduce you to Miss Bennet, and her sister Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Miss Bennet, I believe your cousin is staying with Miss Darcy and her family at Lillis Hall."

Elizabeth smiled wryly.

"How do you do Miss Darcy? It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My cousin mentioned he was to stay with your family."

The girl smiled pleasantly. "How do you do Miss Bennet. Your cousin mentions you frequently. I believe he was very sorry not to have stayed with your family on this occasion."

At that moment, Elizabeth's attention was diverted by the arrival to the party of a gentleman she had never seen before.

"Hello, Georgie, Brother, are you not going to introduce me to your lovely guests?"

Elizabeth could not but notice the frozen expression on the face of Miss Darcy. She was also intrigued. Miss Darcy must be very familiar with the gentleman who called Mr. Bingley brother, judging by his familiar, almost brotherly manner of greeting her, and yet the girl was positively frozen in his presence. She mumbled something under her breath to the gentleman and hurriedly left the group. Lizzy was even more intrigued.

Bingley looked annoyed. "Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, I would like you to meet Mr. George Wickham, husband of my sister Caroline."

Lizzy noticed Bingley stressed their connection was only through his sister, not by blood. Very interesting.

The handsome Mr. Wickham smiled. "Ladies it is a pleasure to meet you both". He smiled at Elizabeth in particular.

"If you ladies will excuse me, I must rejoin my wife. I believe she is in need of a partner for the next dance." He nodded at Bingley." Brother".

Bingley smiled apologetically." Mr. Wickham joined us today from Derbyshire. Miss Bennet, may I refill your glass?"

And with that Bingley left the sisters as he headed toward the punch bowl.

"Well Jane, what do you make of that? Did you see how Mr. Wickham addressed Miss Darcy? There is something going on that we do not know of."

"She did seem very eager to leave once he arrived. Perhaps you are right Lizzy. Mr. Bingley doesn't seem excessively fond of him either."

Just then both ladies were claimed for dances. Jane by Mr. Bingley, and Lizzy by Mr. Wickham. Their Mama watched in pleasure at her pretty daughters enjoying the festivities. To Lizzy, Mr. Wickham was charming and attentive, and Lizzy privately resolved to find out the situation between him and Georgiana Darcy.

The Ball was going famously, Bingley reflected at a quiet moment between dances.

His staff had done spectacular work in transforming the old Hall into a thing of beauty. To reflect the fact that it was approaching the Christmas season, the Hall was adorned with hundreds of Christmas poinsettias, large red flowers that were cultivated all over the grounds of Netherfield by Mr. Ross, the head gardener. The effect was as festive as any he had ever seen before and he was proud of the work they had done. There would be a little something extra in each of their pay packets, Bingley decided.

Bingley watched as Anthony conversed with Miss Bennet. He hoped the two would get along... and it seemed as if his wish would be fulfilled. Miss Bennet was laughing at something Anthony was saying. The De Bourgh ladies, Anne and her cousin had formed a small group around Lord Anthony and judging by the gales of laughter pealing from their little group they found Anthony excessively diverting.

Lady Catherine had seated herself at a table, and was greeting people as though she were a regent at court. Her most loyal subject, and closest thing to a court jester Bingley was likely to see, Mr. Collins, was effusively praising his queen on her most handsome chimney piece in the second drawing room at Rosings. As far as Bingley could tell, the Queen was not amused by his attentions, and sent him off to entertain one of his cousins... the bespectacled one... Bingley could not recall her name...

It was while before he observed the elder Bennet sisters, and immediately noticed something that did pique his concern. At all times, it seemed to Bingley, that wherever Miss Elizabeth Bennet went, Wickham seemed to be by her side. His suspicions were confirmed by the sour look his sister cast in that lady's direction.

"Really Charles, was it necessary to invite those vulgar Bennets? Look at Miss Eliza, brother, why she's positively throwing herself at my husband."

"Hardly, Caroline" he replied. If anything he thought it was the other way around. He could not but notice how uncomfortable Miss Bennet looked in his presence.

"Brother this is intolerable. I shall not grace your home with my presence in the future if this is to be the reaction I receive from the populace."

She paused for effect. "I believe Lord Anthony and Lady Bourke are quite keen for me to spend the festive season with them this year. We have become quite good friends. It seems that they cannot do without me!"

If her brother thought otherwise, he didn't comment.

Charles watched as Elizabeth quitted the room, apparently blissfully unaware of the fact that she was closely followed by Wickham.

Mr. Phillips, stuffed to the gills from the fine spread laid on by their most generous host, decided it would be in the best interests of his very delicate constitution if he were to take a turn about the room. Seeing as his fair wife was deep in conversation with her sister Mrs. Bennet about how grievously she had been affronted by Mr. Collins' refusal to stay with his family while in Hertfordshire, he decided to engage his niece Mary for a turn about the room.

"Sister, he refused Mr. Bennet to his face I'll have you know, he insisted he must stay with Lady Catherine. A fine way to behave to his family, sister, Mr. Bennet is most upset. Are not you upset Mr. Bennet? "

Mrs. Bennet demanded of her husband, who was smothering a smile beside her.

"Aye, Mrs. Bennet, devastated, devastated. Look at poor Jane. I believe she feels it most keenly."

The devastated Mr. Bennet looked at the devastated Jane chatting happily with Mr. Bingley.

"Oh, Mr. Bennet. I believe you are right. Poor Jane. Well. She has Mr. Bingley at least. But poor Lizzy. She is devastated, too. I believe. For you know, I always know when our poor Lizzy is grieving, and I fear she is feeling the loss of Mr. Collins most acutely. "

Mrs. Phillips murmured her agreement. Mrs. Bennet gestured at the now Lizzy-less ballroom. "Our dear girl cannot even bear to be in the same room as him, so acute is her pain. Poor, dear Lizzy."

Mr. Bennet noticed for the first time that Lizzy had left the ballroom. "She must have gone out for some air." he mused, turning his attention again to his chattering wife.

"I think I may have to join her in a little while!"

and with that he exited the table in search of his daughter.

"Jane, I think I'll go out into the garden to get some air. I fear my poor toes are in need of some respite before the next dance."

Lord Anthony, it seemed, despite his many other excellent qualities, had been less than nimble on the dance floor.

"Would you like me to join you Lizzy?" her sister asked.

"No, Jane, you stay for the next dance, I think I need some solitude for a bit. I have a slight headache."

Charles looked concerned. "Miss Bennet, are you sure you would not like some company. Perhaps I can call a carriage for you if you wish to go home.?"

"No, thank you, indeed Mr. Bingley, some fresh air ought to suffice I think."

"Very well Miss Bennet, as you wish. But please do not hesitate to ask should you require the assistance of a carriage."

"Thank you Sir. You are most kind."

Elizabeth left the little group and moved toward the hall. She had tired of dancing for awhile, and some peace and quiet in the vast rolling garden on a crisp and clear November evening was all she needed. She jumped at the voice behind her.

"Miss Bennet! Not leaving so soon I hope. Have you tired of our company so soon?"

"Mr. Wickham! No Sir, not at all, I believe I just require some fresh air in the garden."

"Well then, allow me to escort you." Wickham moved to take Elizabeth's arm.

Lizzy stepped back. "No Sir, not at all, I insist." She was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable in his presence.

"Excuse me Sir." Lizzy stepped past Wickham, and walked toward the garden.

Lizzy pulled her cloak around her. She had not really had a headache, but had fervently wished to leave the ballroom. The continual presence of Mr. Wickham was beginning to un-nerve her, and she wished to get away from the man. She was also acutely aware of how improper it looked as an unmarried young lady like herself, in the continual company of a married gentleman. She also did not like the looks she was receiving from Mrs. Wickham, a sour lady, and the best idea was to leave the ballroom for a while.

The air was crisp and cold, and Lizzy shivered in her thin cloak. She ought to have taken Jane's, she reflected, at least it had a hood. The fashions of the day did not properly attire young ladies to escape from attentive gentlemen on winter nights, she laughed to herself.

As she walked away from the house, she caught sight of Mr. Ross, the gardener of Netherfield. He was a kindly and respected man who lived in Meryton with his family. Lizzy had had the occasion to partake of the kindness of that man's wife when she was a little girl.

Mrs. Bennet had suffered a difficult pregnancy with her daughter Catherine, and when her time came, Jane, Lizzy, and Mary were sent to stay with their Aunt Phillips in Meryton. While in her care, Lizzy heard her Aunt discuss her sister's probable death with a neighbour.

Aunt Phillips planned to take Jane, being of the sweetest temperament of the little girls, to live with her, and so distraught was Lizzy that she ran away from her Aunt's house.

She did not get far, for outside the draper shop, Lizzy tripped on her open boot-laces, and fell hard, scraping knees and elbows.

Mrs. Ross, the draper's daughter, had taken Lizzy to her own house, cleaned her knees and elbows, and kissed away her tears, before returning her to her aunt.

Lizzy had never forgotten that little kindness, and made a point of paying her respects to Mr. and Mrs. Ross whenever she saw them in Meryton.

She did not get to greet the gardener, for almost as soon as she had decided to follow him across the lawns of Netherfield, a hand clamped over her mouth, and a voice whispered in her ear telling her not to scream or she would regret that course of action...

Continued In Next Section