Page 1 of The Widower of Pemberley

Prologue

This was not how Elizabeth Bennet had wished to marry.

She knelt in the Longbourn drawing room next to a man whom she did not love. A man who said that he could not make any woman happy.

It was a grey and cloudy evening, and the last light from the sky quickly faded.

There was no sun, no brightness. Outside were thick grey clouds, and the rain fell in thin cold splashes; a harsh wind bent the bare tree branches, and muddy puddles had gathered deeper than her ankle.

The weather did not offer a propitious omen.

Elizabeth refused to let that blow her banked fears into an open flame. It was her choice to marry Mr. Darcy. She would find hope and contentment in a life with this silent, haughty man.

She knew that he combined great virtues with his defects.

When the parson of Longbourn parish asked Elizabeth to say ‘I will’, she looked for an instant towards where Jane and her father sat.

Jane’s dear face.

Dearer because of the deep pockmarks and white cloudy eyes that were the consequence of smallpox five years before. Jane would now never face a life in which she was not only blind but also poor.

Mr. Darcy had promised.

Elizabeth trusted him. She trusted his promise more than the legal settlement that he had drawn up and that had been signed by her father to ensure her sister would always be cared for.

Half of her father’s face was sunken in, and his palsied arm trembled. He could barely hold himself in place in the winged armchair that the footman had helped him into. His attack of apoplexy had happened just ten days before, and her life had been utterly transformed since.

Elizabeth turned to the parson. She glanced at Mr. Darcy’s stern, cold, and undeniably handsome face from the corner of her eye as she said firmly, “I will.”

She did not love him, not yet, but she would strivetolove him. He had promised to protect her sisters and mother if she became his wife, and she would do everything in her power to make sure that he never regretted marrying her.

But he needed an heir to his estates, and whether she ever had a son was not a decision in her power.

Chapter One

The afternoon following the day he and his sister arrived to visit Bingley at his newly leased estate in Hertfordshire, Darcy settled at the writing desk in the drawing room to put thought to paper. He and Georgiana would attend the local assembly as part of Bingley’s party in a few hours, and Darcy wanted to settle his mind on these points first.

He first, as was his unvarying habit, wrote the date at the top of the page.

Darcy’s daughter ran circles round the sofas and small tables in the room behind him, while Bingley chased the girl and made cheery promises to her of chewing her bones to the marrow if she did not run faster.

Georgiana grinned to watch them, exhibiting more cheerfulness in Bingley’s presence than Darcy recalled her showing since Mary had died. It surprised him how strongly she had been affected by the events of the weeks that made Darcy a widow, since Georgiana had disliked his wife.

Despite her clearly improved mood, Georgiana kept her book half raised in front of her face to (almost) politely avoid conversation with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.

Bingley’s sisters wore tight expressions, and Miss Bingley said every time Emily came near, “Sit with me and we can play with your doll. Do you not wish to take your doll to a tea party? I always loved tea parties.”

Darcy wrote:

Considerations on my intention to find a second wife:

Emily must have a mother. My habits are too austere for the easy comfort of a child. I either indulge her too greatly or I say nothing and depend upon the nursemaid to handle the tempest. I have striven to act with less of the coldness that made Mary miserable, but my true nature will be understood in time by my child. She must have a woman to whom she can turn for affection and care, and it should not be a hired servant. Emily loves Georgiana dearly, but Georgiana is practically a child herself and will marry in time.

There are occasions when she requires discipline, and while she has no mother for her to turn to for comfort, I cannot bear to impose it.

With a loud scream of delight, his daughter knocked over a light side table.

Bingley took the opportunity as Emily stared at the destruction that she had wrought to grab and shake the girl and pretend to bite her.