Chapter 1

Posted on Monday, 4 April 2005

The smell of cedar was in the air, originating from the only source of light and heat in the otherwise dark room. Placed along the edge of the semi-circle of warmth was a lush armchair, at the moment cradling a very weary young man. He sat staring into the fire as he had many nights before, every burning ember and shooting spark clearly reflected in his black eyes. With furrowed brow he sat, occasionally running his hands through his typically meticulous hair. At times he would unconsciously entwine his fingers in his deep brown curls, his hands much relieved by the opportunity for activity.

On this night, for no particular reason, he was brought forth from his silent meditation. He slowly looked about him. His eyes passed over each well known furnishing, lingering on each just long enough to begin a thought but not enough to make it coherent. Any visitor who saw the room during the day would conclude that it was elegantly furnished, beautiful and sophisticated yet unaffected and not in the least bit ostentatious. To it's sole occupant, however, it had become a veritable prison cell. The once commodious space was becoming smaller and smaller every day, or so it seemed to him. Having surveyed his dreary domain, he looked up to the mantle where sat an ornate clock. In just a few minutes it would be two o'clock in the morning. Just above the timepiece hung an heirloom, which for some time now had caused much anxiety. It was the Darcy family crest and each time Fitzwilliam had dared to lift his eyes towards it, he was reminded of the many duties he was not fulfilling. He did the best he could when handling his business affairs. All of his servants and tenants respected him and believed him just as capable, and more importantly as noble as his late father. He was not foolish or irresponsible as other young men were and always tried to do what was expected of him. However in the six years since he had been master of Pemberley, he found that that was not always the easiest thing to do.

After all, if he did as society dictated, he would have married a wealthy woman and so provided an heir for the estate some time ago. If he did what his family wanted him to do, or at least what some members of his family expected, then he would have married his cousin Anne, thus joining his property with the great estate of Rosings. Still, he had been unable, and unwilling to do either. He found that he could not perform the latter because he had no inclination whatsoever to be wed to his frail cousin, but he had no aversion to the institution of marriage in general. The problem was that he could never seem to reconcile two key elements of the matter. Given his status and station in life, it was necessary for him to marry a young lady of breeding, fortune, and connections. Fitzwilliam's circle of acquaintances gave him every opportunity to meet many women who fit that criteria. But, much to his great frustration, he had never met even one girl that fit his standards and that he had any feelings for. Though he knew many couples who had married with little consideration as to personal feelings, Fitzwilliam could not help but desire something for more his life. This thought which had occurred to Darcy many times, particularly recently, came to him again as he sat with eyes fixed upon the family crest.

After a time he looked away. Slowly, as one very tired after a long journey, he rose from his comfortable chair and ventured into the darkness of his room. Crossing the bare floor with heavy but quiet steps, he walked towards one of the room's large windows. This march, though only a few steps, seemed to last much longer as thoughts raced through his brain. He began thinking of his parents, as he often did when he considered the subject of marriage. Tonight when he thought of them, he could not help but wish that they had not been what they were. This feeling did not last long and was quickly replaced with guilt for thinking such and then sadness. His mother, who had passed away in his youth, and his father who had followed her just 6 years past, were the ones who had given him the idea that a marriage that was not only advantageous to both but also involved mutual love could exist. From his earliest childhood memories, Fitzwilliam could remember how devoted his parents had been to one another.

Of course, they were always the model of propriety when in company, but he could remember times when he was very young and would follow them into the garden on one of their private walks. Believing themselves to be in seclusion, his father would pick a single yellow flower, his mother's favorite, and place it gently behind her ear before kissing her even more gently on the cheek. Such moments of tenderness made such an impact on young Fitzwilliam that even now, some twenty odd years later, he still remembered them as if they were yesterday.

Having reached the window, he stared out through the icy panes. He could feel the chill wind as it whistled through a small crack and he watched the snow fall to the ground. Below, he could just make out the bench that his mother used to sit at on warm summer days. As a boy he would sometimes look out that same window with his father. They would stand perfectly still for what seemed like hours and all his father would ever say is, "The view is beautiful." It had taken Fitzwilliam years to realize that in all the times they had stood there, his father never once looked at the distant mountains, or the tall forest trees, or even the swift running trout stream. He had always, always, been looking at his wife.

He sighed deeply and ran both hands roughly through his hair. Moving more swiftly than on his last venture, he moved to his bed and plopped himself down rather inelegantly. Situating himself beneath layers of blankets, he took several deep breaths, attempting to clear his mind with each exhale. If he had any intention of getting a few hours of sleep before morning then he knew he must put such plaguing thoughts aside. As he had anticipated, the change of location wrought no difference on his thoughts and the notion of marriage again consumed him. This time, however, his concerns focused on another member of his family: his younger sister Georgiana. It was partly on her account that being wed was suddenly of more importance than before. Fitzwilliam closed his eyes and recalled the events of the past fortnight which had helped lead him to his present troubles.

One of his closest friends, Charles Bingley, as well as his two sisters Caroline and Louisa and her husband Mr. Hurst, had come to stay three weeks ago. It just so happened that one of Charles' childhood friends had planned to pass through the area with his sister a little more than a fortnight after the party's arrival. Darcy had known a little of the man at university but they had not been particular friends. Still, he felt a sense of obligation because of his connection to Bingley, and decided to invite them to dine with them. Charles, it can easily be understood, was more than grateful for the opportunity to reintroduce them and thought that the evening would go quite "swimmingly", as he had said.

And so, Darcy had accompanied Bingley to call upon his friend, Henry Whetton and to proffer an invitation to the great Pemberley. Darcy later reflected that Henry was a fine man. While he was not so handsome as Bingley, nor as wealthy as himself, he had looks enough to please the ladies of the ton and money enough to be quite an eligible bachelor. His fortune was, concerning amount, the same as Bingley yet he had the advantage of owning a vast tract of land in Scarbourgh. Upon first acquaintance, he had been amiable, kind, respectful, and intelligent. He had the happy knack of speaking enough to be friendly but not quite so much as to expose himself to ridicule.

Of course, Darcy respected him for this and even was able to genuinely express his desire to know him better when Bingley later asked him his thoughts. After several hours of reminiscing, Darcy and Bingley took their leave, eager to meet again in a few days time with the added pleasure of becoming acquainted with Henry's sister Grace. As the two gentlemen played billiards and casually sipped their brandy later that evening, Charles offered his host whatever information he could remember about the fair Ms. Grace Whetton, for indeed she was fair. In his whole acquaintance Charles was sure that there was not a more amiable or kind creature. She was very accomplished when he knew her, though not quite so accomplished as Ms. Darcy, who was greatly fond of music. However, what she lacked in melody she more than made up for in artistic ability and charm. Then again, it had been two years since he had seen her.

Still, Bingley had every confidence that, under her brother's influence, she had only improved since then. Darcy, taking Charles' praise as being as exaggerated in this case as in any other considering a young lady, couldn't help but be eager to meet her. If her brother's manners were any indication, she would be pleasant enough. But then again, his experience with Caroline and Louisa had taught him that the manners of one relative may very greatly from that of another. Whichever the case may be, he was glad that Georgiana would have to opportunity for a feminine influence apart from Caroline's, if only for one evening.

And so the days passed by quickly until the night finally arrived for the little "dinner party". Though there were only to be two people added to the table, there seemed to be a sense of anxiety in the air, as though they were gathering for a ball rather than a meal. This, perhaps, was caused mostly by Caroline and Georgiana, the former for making comment upon comment about how she should go about preparing for guests, and the later for doing her best to adhere to Ms. Bingley's 'well intentioned' advice. In truth there had been no need to worry on either's account. Darcy had made sure to prepare everything himself in a manner appropriate for a small gathering. Though Georgiana was technically Mistress of the house, he had never really held her to it, so to speak. After all, she was only 15 and full young to be out much in company, let alone entertaining. However, Darcy had let the two be. No real harm could come from their activities, Caroline would leave him to his business, and Georgiana could perhaps learn a little from Caroline about managing a house, a very little.

It was late afternoon when the Whetton carriage could be heard on the lane leading to Pemberley. Fitzwilliam and Charles stood ready to escort the carriage's two occupants into the estate and Darcy was a little surprised when a very attractive blonde emerged from the chaise. She didn't share her brother's pale complexion and straw colored hair yet they did have the same smile and she had a similarly warm aura about her. After the proper introductions, the four went into the house where the hour or so before dinner was passed first by more introductions and then by idle conversation. The Bingleys and Hursts were already somewhat familiar with the Whettons and so it was only Georgiana who needed to be introduced. Encouraged by her brother, she did her best to warm to the duo and be as gracious as possible. By dinner, she and Grace had discovered their common love of art and music though she still could not bring herself to speak much above a whisper and the idea of playing before them terrified her.

Now, as Darcy lay in his bed pondering all this, he could not help but be puzzled by his sister's shyness. She was in an good position in society, having fortune, connections, and an excellent character. Yet for all this she still refused to come out of her shell. Fitzwilliam knew that what she needed more than anything was someone in her life who would provide an example of what a strong woman ought to be while not frightening her with forcefulness as his Aunt Catherine and Ms. Bingley did. Darcy knew that the only way that such a woman could ever enter Georgie's life would be through his own marriage. Perhaps, he thought as he once again opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, Perhaps Ms. Whetton is the type of woman that Georgiana needs in her life. After all, they do have things in common. She is informed, pleasant, and she did seem to have a certain ease about her which Georgie lacks. Granted they did not seem much above common acquaintances when the Whettons left that night but the bonds of friendship are not often forged on a single night's acquaintance. Ms. Whetton even appeared, based on first impressions only of course, as someone whom I could see myself with in future. Oh God, I'm being silly. Here I am acknowledging that connections between human beings take time and already I am imagining our wedding! I fear this lack of sleep is beginning to affect my mind. Here Darcy took a deep breath and could not help but to chuckle to himself. The chuckle, however, was not one of joy, but that of a frustrated man who could feel his sanity slipping.

It really is no wonder that I should think so I suppose. Many men decide on but a brief acquaintance that they will pursue a particular young lady, especially one so eligible as Ms. Whetton. I also don't doubt that a large part all this nonsense comes from the feelings that I've been having lately. They are silly too I suppose. Everyone is lonely at times. It's no reason to lose sleep.

But even as he thought this he knew it wasn't true. He thought back to his father and how many sleepless nights he had spent after the death of his wife. Darcy suddenly felt an inexplicable surge of anger course through him and found himself thinking harshly, What my parents shared was an anomaly that I can not hope to repeat. The love that I've thought would come to me all these years does not truly exist. It can not, for I have seen no proof of such a thing with but one exception. Even that could have been a falsehood. Granted my parents cared for one another but it is very possible and probable that in my weak childhood sensibilities I merely idealized what I saw before me. What I am sure of is that Georgiana needs a sister to confide in and Pemberley needs a mistress, and I need... I want to provide both. Ms. Whetton is not only unattached but could possibly serve well in both capacities and I believe that over time I could come to respect her as much as any man can respect a woman. In any case, there is no harm in coming to know her better. There is no call for making a decision before I am sure that she will suit. I shall think no more about the matter tonight.

It was with this resolution that he rolled to his side, clutching one of his pillows, and nestled himself into the covers. It was not long before he found himself on the threshold of much needed slumber, but just before sleep claimed him, the last words that echoed in his ears were the words of his father from so long ago.

"My son, life is a mountain which each man must climb. Some men choose the easy path, relying on others to pull them up the slope. But those men, those who never endure the hardships will find that when they reach the top, all that is before them is a long fall down. But the wise man, son, the wise man takes his time when climbing. In doing so he will experience much, both of good and of ill. And when the wise man reaches the top my boy, he will be able to look back at the path he climbed, and at what lay before him, and he will see that the view is beautiful."