1811-1812 How It All Began- Part 1

by Deborah E Pearson

  The Darcy Legacy: 1811-1812 How It All Began

  Part 1

  Deborah E Pearson

  Contents

  Volume 1

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Thank you For Reading

  About the Author

  Also by Deborah E Pearson

  Volume One

  Chapter 1

  I am my Beloved’s and My Beloved is Mine – Song of Song’s, The Bible.

  1st August 1844

  Fitzwilliam Darcy stood in his library at Pemberley, watching his wife and her Aunt Gardiner touring the estate grounds as they did every year. Darcy marvelled that the ladies never tired of the woods, but they never seemed to. Every year they set out with the same gay abandon that they had 32 years ago when Elizabeth had first visited Pemberley.

  The last 32 years had been both blessings and curses to the Darcys. With the birth of each of his children, Darcy had felt as if his heart would burst with happiness and joy. However, having known the heartache of loss, and the devastation of the unrequited love that marked the beginning of his relationship with Elizabeth, Darcy always felt a pang of jealousy when he was not in his wife’s company. He knew it was not reasonable, and it was not fair, but he still felt the possessiveness of a young bridegroom who wanted nothing more than to spend every minute of the day with his beautiful wife, excluding the outside world as much as he could. Elizabeth Darcy still had the same joie de vivre about her that had attracted him so much as a young man, but now there was sadness that had crept into her eyes with the death of their youngest son. The days after their youngest son’s death had been bleak for the whole family as they mourned a life that had been cut short, and yet together they had come through stronger than ever.

  Darcy shook his head to sort so many memories. Today he intended to write his story in response to popular demand. Ten years ago his wife's side of their love story had been published by a close friend; it was one of the best sellers at the time. Now it was time for his tale of their first year. For the most part, it would be a pleasant task. The unpleasantness of some events of 1811 and 1812 would intrude, but the joy of loving and winning his wife meant the unpleasant had somehow lost its sting and he could look back at the years with a soft fondness. The memories were now just that; the guilt and the blame had gone away years ago.

  The task for today would not change, and so he sat at the desk in his library and started to write…

  Chapter 2

  It is a truth universally acknowledged that a young man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. – Jane Austen

  31st May 1811

  At seven and twenty, Darcy felt he knew everything. He had practically raised his sister since their mother died; he had been her guardian for the past four years since their father's death. He felt he knew good breeding and recognised good manners. He was very self-assured and convinced that he did not need any help in his life. Indeed he had been so eager to prove himself independent and capable after his father died, that he had not actually asked anyone to help him or relied heavily on anyone for advice as he managed his estate and made decisions that affected the lives of many.

  Darcy guarded his emotions carefully; only his sister ever truly saw beyond the mask of indifference that he would wear, and even then not all of the time. Within his circle of relatives and close friends, he would be lively as was necessary. To the world at large, he was grave and indifferent at best, humourless and judgmental at worst. This mask of indifference was nearly uniformly viewed by those outside his circle as pride and superiority to those in his company. This suited Darcy well for he was by nature a shy man, who would struggle to converse with those he did not know. By maintaining an aloof air, he kept to himself and therefore his struggles and deficiencies would not be aired. Yes, Darcy was for the moment happy with his lot in life, or so he would daily tell himself. The truth was that many courted Darcy’s good opinion only because of his wealth. Pemberley, his Derbyshire estate, was worth at least ten thousand pounds a year. This was the generally known part of his fortune. He did, however, have other investments which augmented Pemberley’s income, and the real figure of his worth was closer to thirty thousand pounds a year.

  May's end brought an end of the social season in London; the endless stream of morning visitors was dying down. One after another, the fashionable families left for their country estates. The endless balls and dinner parties of the season were a chore that Darcy abominated as he always found social situations awkward. Either he was constantly bored with the shallowness of parlour conversations, or he was struggling to catch the drift of the conversation of those around him. On a conscious level, he hated being rude and would not have hurt anyone. However, his shy nature often lead to his saying and doing things that caused offence. Often his comments came out of place or sometimes came across hurtfully, although he was never deliberately cruel or mean. To close the season off, before Darcy left for Pemberley, Darcy had arranged to give a dinner party in Mr Bingley's honour.

  The Bingleys were an anomaly. Charles Bingley, the son of a tradesman and Darcy’s best friend, was everything right and gregarious. In fact, Bingley had often smoothed over the ruffled feathers of those who were offended by Darcy. Indeed, viewed on a superficial level, Darcy and Bingley were like chalk and cheese. Darcy grave and inscrutable while Bingley was happy and everything pleasing. However, on a deeper level, their characters were much more alike. They were both loving, gentle and caring men, who would go to the ends of the earth to please their loved ones. Both men were morally virtuous. However, if Bingley had one fatal flaw, it was that even when he knew he was in the right, Bingley was still too easily persuaded to follow Darcy’s opinion. Darcy hoped that he had never misused his power over his friend, but when the friend was so easily convinced it was hard to see where the boundaries were overstepped.

  Mr Bingley had two sisters. The older one was married to a Mr Hurst, and the younger was unmarried. His older sister, Mrs Louisa Hurst, was an insipid woman, who if Darcy had not met her himself would think her to be almost a hat stand. She had little to no character of her own. Darcy had seen her do little more than to play with the bangles she had on her wrist or play cards. Any character or backbone that she showed was almost entirely a carbon copy of her strong-willed shrew of her younger sister, Miss Caroline Bingley, who was born with the fangs of a viper. You could forget about having a sensible conversation with that woman.

  Both the Bingley women had dowries of twenty thousand pounds, the sum total of their charms. Miss Caroline was accomplished in the usual order of things, but she did not fulfil Darcy’s idea of an accomplished woman. Her manners were unkind and rude, to say the least. Anybody who either was below her in status or who had a smaller fortune than herself was there to be ridiculed and taken for granted. Darcy was never sure what was genuine and what was a pure fiction in Miss Bingley’s mind. One particularly unendearing fiction was that Caroline expected that Darcy would marry her and make her the socially vaunted mistress of Pemberley. No, Darcy could not understand how it was that three siblings could come from the same family and yet be so different from one another as the Bingleys.

  Darcy’s mind now turned to the last ball he had attended. It is a truth universally acknowledged
that a young man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. What bloody presumption from the mothers! I still struggle to believe that is what I really overheard the mothers saying that the other day! Anything bordering on vulgarity was one of Darcy's pet peeves: it showed a meanness and lack of personal and social respect which Darcy found insupportable. It was the last ball of the season, and as Darcy avoided dancing as much as he could, he could usually sit on the sidelines talking with his friends and watching how the girls flirted and courted the other men. Also generally because of his quiet ways, he found out more than his friends as to how people were thinking, but this one thing had shocked him and explained why whenever it was the season he had an endless stream of morning visitors and girls who were trying to get him to fall in love with them. He never seemed to know what to say to the young ladies and often found himself being left alone, which suited him well enough for he really was not prone to falling in and out of love, that he left for his friend Bingley who always seemed to be falling for one girl after another.

  Darcy's Aunt, Lady Catherine DeBourgh, was another problem. Lady Catherine had married Sir Lewis DeBourgh and had one daughter, Anne. It was Lady Catherine's openly stated wish that Darcy should marry Anne, and unite the two estates of Pemberley and Rosings. The thought of Anne DeBourgh as his wife and Lady Catherine as his mother-in-law, made him feel sick. As a result, therefore, Darcy long since decided that he would never marry Anne.

  In fact, Darcy was happy to remain single, running his estate in Derbyshire and visiting Town for the season. Or so he told himself. He felt a wife would be a burden, and if his sister's expenses were anything to go by, unless she had good connections and at least a fortune to match, she would drain his purse to such an extent that saving, although not impossible, would become a lot harder. No, I do not want a wife. I might adopt a child or just leave Pemberley to Georgiana's children. It is too vulgar that women assume that because we are bachelors we want a wife. I've seen too many women take a husband just because he is fashionable or has money and then live a life of hell. I won't marry unless I can fall deeply in love, and adore my wife. I won't marry just to produce offspring. Let Georgiana or others do that!

  Just then Darcy was disturbed by and loud knocking and disturbance in the hall. Only one person ever came to visit and made that kind of commotion in his entrance.That's strange; I'm not expecting anyone at the moment, not even Lady Catherine! Darcy roused himself though and went through to the parlour where the visitor was shown in. "Lady Catherine DeBourgh" announced the poor harassed footman. Lady Catherine and her daughter Anne rarely came to London, so Fitzwilliam wondered why she had come at this time – although he thought he knew as she rarely spoke to him on any other subject. Darcy sighed and asked his aunt to take a seat.

  "Darcy, I am here about Anne," started Lady Catherine, who rarely talked to him on any other subject. "You know that you were destined since your cradles. You are also aware how I am not accustomed to any kind of rebellion or refusals, and I won't accept any more of your excuses. I want to know when you are going to formalise your engagement to my daughter. Already there is the talk of Anne being an old spinster, and this ridiculous new parson I have would, undoubtedly, take Anne off my hands. I have though given him strict instructions that he must marry a girl of good character, but not too high-born status. I'm sure he won't disappoint me by his choice, the bumbling idiot. Besides, Darcy, Anne is no longer a young woman and has no chance to meet a nice young man!"

  "I know madam, that you have concerns about Anne. However, it is impossible for me to marry your daughter. Her connections are good, but I do not love her. Madam my wife must be able to command my love and also have good connections. I've said before I did not wish to marry your daughter and I say it again, I have never deceived you or led Anne on in any way. I am prepared to sign whatever document you wish to that effect, releasing Anne from any perceived obligation to me. However I insist that I will not marry Anne," answered Fitzwilliam politely, but he stressed the last sentence, hoping that it would finally deter his Aunt.

  "Really Darcy! I will not be refused this. You must marry my daughter; you know it was your mother's dearest wish. I will not allow you to disappoint Anne."

  "Was it?! She didn't tell me that! I think it was your dream, not hers. Madam, I am not aware that Anne is relying on me to marry her. Indeed it has been quite settled between us for years that she is free to find happiness with whoever she pleases, and that it will not be me!"

  "Of course she depends on you!" Lady DeBourgh looked like she was about to burst with indignation. "You may have seen too much of the young ladies in town flirting and forgetting a young man, but I assure you my daughter is beyond all that! She has her heart set on you, and she is not able to come to town and get another husband. You know how sick she is.

  "Humph! Darcy, you will marry my daughter, and fulfil the wishes of your mother and myself. I will come and talk to you about this another time. Right now I have to be in Bond Street."

  "Thank you for your visit Aunt. I promise that next Easter I will come and visit you. I have high hopes Fitzwilliam will come with me" He's always keen enough to visit Anne.

  Chapter 3

  Alone, Alone, All, All, Alone, Alone on A Wide, Wide Sea. - Samuel Taylor Coleridge (The Rime of the Ancient Mariner).

  14th June 1811

  Bingley’s birthday dawned bright and clear and had the promise of being a very hot day. Before breakfast, after taking a ride in the park, Darcy was again sitting in his library thinking about his life. He found it strange for he had a feeling as if something was missing in his life, yet he could not work out what it was. Darcy searched his mind as his eyes scanned his library. The books on the shelf spoke of taste and good judgement and though there were a few novels, for he was fond of a good novel, the books were of a more serious nature and spoke of an intellect, that craved being fed. These books in his Town library were of course only a small portion of those books in Pemberley. No, his books and his life were in order. Nothing was ever out of place, and he rarely left something lying around for the servants to clean up. What could be missing? Was it his sister perhaps? No, she had her little establishment nearby and he was fond of visiting her nearly every day. Though she was away at Ramsgate right now, he knew that it was more than just his sister that was missing. He thought over his whole life, and could not work out what could be missing – yet there it was this hole in his life somewhere eating at him, telling him that there was something missing. Not being used to feeling like this he shook his head and headed out looking for something to occupy his mind since books for some reason would not do it. It was then that he recollected that tonight was to be his dinner party; there was still time, so he decided to have a bath before getting dressed to receive his friends.

  It suddenly dawned on him, while taking his bath, that perhaps, that feeling that something was missing was loneliness. He had been in society since he was sixteen and so many women had thrown themselves in his way, all wanting his ten thousand a year, and none of them attracting him much. There had been one young lady when he was at Cambridge that he had a dalliance with for a while; however, when she met George Wickham she soon forgot Darcy. At the time Darcy had thought himself to be upset and hurt, but somehow his pain had been short lived and he realised he would never have made her an offer. No for some reason he had never fallen in love and the idea of taking a wife, though an attractive idea, never really appealed to him as he rarely met any women who were his intellectual equals. Making conversation with strangers was always so hard that he avoided talking to women, preferring to maintain a small but select group of friends around him.

  The Bingley's arrived first. Immediately upon entering the room, Miss Bingley started "Mr Darcy, How charming a room this is" Something Miss Bingley always said trying to make out she was fascinated by it, but always having something in her look to say that she would change everything once she became his wife.

  Why don't
you ever find new things to say? Thought Darcy. He was anxious to talk to Mr Bingley, but as host, he had to be civil and attentive to all. "I thank you," he replied. Miss Bingley then found herself a seat and waited for her sister to arrive.

  Mr Bingley, however, started in immediately, "Darcy, you know I've been looking for an estate of my own since my Father's death?" "Yes Bingley, you're always looking and never finding anything" Darcy replied.

  "Well I've heard about a place in Hertfordshire – however, I cannot go down to look at it for another fortnight– will you come with me?"

  "Yes, I will, however, I cannot make it until the first week of September."

  Mr Bingley looked disappointed "Then we will make the journey on the third of September. I hope the property I want to see is still available." Their conversation then turned to politics and financial affairs and passed the time until Darcy's cousins the Viscount and Viscountess Milton arrived with Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mr and Mrs Hurst arrived shortly after. It was not long before dinner was announced and Darcy escorted Miss Bingley through to dinner. Dinner conversation was nothing out of the ordinary, and soon toasts were raised to the health of Charles Bingley. The ladies removed to the drawing room while the gentlemen drank port and smoked cigars.

  "Viscount Milton," Darcy started addressing his elder cousin, "how did you know that you were ready to get married?"