Chapter 1

February 11th, 1812

London

“It is going to fall!” young Miss Priscilla Gardiner hissed, watching the tower of wooden blocks shiver slightly.

“Stay very still, children,” Elizabeth Bennet whispered. Her small cousins, two girls and two boys, obediently froze, and after a heart-stopping moment, the wooden creation stilled.

“Your turn now, Felix,” Elizabeth murmured. Her five year old cousin lifted a block from the remaining pile, walked carefully over to the tower, and placed the block on the top.

The column trembled, shook, and then, as Felix danced back, crashed with a rumble and roar which shook the house.

“Hooray!” cried Frederick, who was, at nearly three years of age, the youngest Gardiner. “So loud!”

“So loud indeed!” Phoebe, the eldest of the Gardiner children, declared. “I do hope we have not disturbed Mother.”

Elizabeth turned guilty eyes toward the playroom door just as it opened to reveal her aunt Mrs. Gardiner, who wore a comically disapproving look. “My dear Elizabeth, I expected noise and thunder from my own little ones, but to see you involved as well?”

Elizabeth knew her aunt well enough to be certain that the older lady was teasing, and she responded in kind as her eyes laughed. “I would not want your house to be too quiet, Aunt. Think how dull that would be!”

Mrs. Gardiner, who looked surprisingly youthful in spite of having borne four children, grinned at her niece and said, “Indeed, a dull life would be a tragedy! Now come, I have finished meeting with the housekeeper, and your sister is ready to go to Hookham’s library.”

“Wonderful!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Children, I will be back in a few hours, and then we can play Hide and Seek!”

“Hi and Seek!” Frederick squealed as Elizabeth distributed hugs and kisses to her cousins. A minute later, she rushed out of the attic play room to the guest room she shared with her sister Jane, where she snatched her hat, gloves and pelisse. She had been waiting for several days to visit Hookham’s and was looking forward to the excursion.

/

Miss Jane Bennet settled into the seat in the hack and smiled at Elizabeth as she sat down across from her. Mrs. Gardiner stepped in last of all, and the carriage jolted into motion.

“You will adore Hookham’s library, Lizzy,” Jane said. “There are literally thousands of books.”

Elizabeth Bennet leaned forward eagerly. “And I believe you said that the catalogue includes many Gothic novels too?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Gardiner told her second eldest niece. “Many, many Gothic novels – not just Ann Radcliffe and Horace Walpole, but also lesser known authors and authoresses. Of course, I have no way of knowing if such novels are well written, but they are available, at any rate.”

“If they are good enough to be published, I believe they will be a pleasant enough way to while away a few hours,” Elizabeth said optimistically. “Oh Aunt, I cannot thank you and Uncle enough for inviting me to London for a few weeks!”

“It is, truly, our very great pleasure,” the older woman assured her. “You and Jane are always welcome, as your little cousins adore you.”

“And I adore them,” Elizabeth said fervently. “It is so enjoyable to play some of the old games that I enjoyed as a child: Hide and Seek, Blind Man’s Bluff, building with blocks, and the girls are even able to play spillikins.”

“Jane taught them spillikins a few weeks ago,” her aunt said with a fond glance at the eldest Miss Bennet. “Our girls love that game.”

“All the children enjoy Hide and Seek,” Jane continued, “though Frederick always hides in the water closet, and I pretend to hunt around for a few minutes before I ‘find’ him.”

“Felix was the same way at that age,” her aunt said. “Now I believe he has four or five hiding places, so he is improving.”

“Look at the snow!” Elizabeth exclaimed, breaking away from the conversation to look out the carriage window. London was often gray due to the smoke of thousands of chimneys, but with the snow covering the soot, the street was sparkling white and entirely charming, with warmly dressed inhabitants scurrying to and fro in the pale winter light.

Silence fell for some minutes between the three ladies, which was broken as they turned onto another street.

“Hookham’s is just ahead,” Jane said, causing her sister to peer eagerly to the left of the carriage. A minute later, the hack came to a halt, and the three ladies exited the carriage into a cold February day. Elizabeth pulled her pelisse closer to her and looked up with pleasure as snowflakes danced and twirled in the air, only to land with gentle grace on the pavement, roofs, and trees.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Gardiner said to the driver, handing over the fare along with a generous tip. “Come along, girls.”

Elizabeth forced herself not to rush ahead, though it was difficult, eager as she was at the prospect of looking over so many books. Her heart, which had been cast down for some weeks, was lightening by the day, surrounded as she was now by the happy company of both her London relations and her dear sister and closest friend, Jane. She had come to London only a week previously and had relished every minute. Her home of Longbourn; where her father, mother, and three young sisters dwelt; was not always a cheerful place due to her father’s indolence, her mother’s endless whining, and her youngest sisters’ foolishness.

Jane herself had been in residence at Gracechurch Street since the beginning of January, and while the eldest Miss Bennet was renowned for her cheerful, steady disposition, she too had been unhappy of late. The previous autumn, Jane had fallen in love with Mr. Charles Bingley, lessee of the estate of Netherfield near her home, and had been in eager expectation of an offer of marriage from the gentleman. But alas, in late November, Bingley had decamped to Town along with his sisters, brother-in-law, and friend, Mr. Darcy, and Jane had neither seen nor heard anything from the man since his departure.

Miss Caroline Bingley, younger sister of Mr. Bingley, had acted the part of intimate friend to Jane while they were all in Hertfordshire. Here in Town, however, the lady’s true character and disposition became known. She had treated Jane with cold civility during their two short meetings, and Jane had realized that Miss Bingley had no interest in continuing their close acquaintance.

It had been a painful blow for Jane, and Elizabeth, while sad, was also angry. Mr. Bingley had abandoned her dear sister for no better reason than a want of resolution. Elizabeth was confident that the gentleman truly had loved her sister, but Bingley’s social-climbing sisters, and his proud, arrogant friend, Mr. Darcy, had proven too discouraging, for Bingley was an amiable man who was far too ready to bend and sway under the direction of stronger characters.

“Here we are,” Mrs. Gardiner said, opening the door to the library, and Elizabeth shook her head a little to clear her thoughts. A moment later, she gasped in wonder at the sight before her. The library was genuinely immense, stretching some one hundred feet in one direction, and at least forty feet in the other. Colonnades held up the roof, and shelves upon shelves held a glorious variety of books. Sprinkled throughout the great space were comfortable chairs and tables, which permitted patrons to rest, read, or even talk. Though it was not yet noon on a Tuesday, there were already at least two dozen patrons in residence, mostly ladies, with a few gentlemen sprinkled among them. Elizabeth smiled at the sight; there were precious few places where reputable ladies could gather in Town, but the circulating library was one of those places.

“Where would you like to look first?” Mrs. Gardiner asked.

“Oh, the Gothics, I think,” Elizabeth said. “I am in the mood for some light literature.”

“They are over there,” Mrs. Gardiner responded, pointing toward the southeast corner of the library. “Jane, what do you wish to peruse?”

“I will go into the Reading Room to explore,” Jane said decisively. “I am working on my French, Lizzy, and Hookham’s carries L’Esprit Des Journaux .”

“My dear Jane, how very intellectual of you! You put me to shame!”

“I read Gothics last month before you came to London,” Miss Bennet explained, giving her sister a gentle push. “Now do go and enjoy yourself, Sister. Aunt, where will you be?”

“I will be sitting on that green settee right there,” Mrs. Gardiner said, gesturing with one slim hand. “Come and find me when you are ready to leave, my dears. There is no hurry, so do not rush yourselves.”

Jane and Elizabeth nodded and separated in search of their own reading material. Mrs. Gardiner made her way to her chosen seat and sank down with relief. She was tired today after an interrupted night; her youngest child was teething, and when miserable, the child wanted his mother’s comfort. Mrs. Gardiner did not mind, but it was very pleasant to sit peacefully on a comfortable couch while her nieces amused themselves with books.

The main door of the library opened, and Mrs. Gardiner shivered as the cold wind blew through it. She realized that her chosen sofa was rather close to the door, which was probably why it had been left unoccupied. Ah well, her pelisse was a warm one, and she had grown up in Derbyshire in the north, where substantial snowfalls sometimes blocked roads for days on end, and thus she was quite resistant to the cold. She smiled a little as two gentlemen entered the room from the front door, the fragile snowflakes already melting in the warmth.

/

“Gothics?” Charles Bingley asked in open surprise.

Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of Pemberley, grinned and said, “I fear so, Bingley. Georgiana has access to both the libraries at Darcy House and Pemberley, and yet she longs for Gothic novels.”

“And you, being the excellent brother that you are, are willing to find them for her,” Bingley said jovially.

Darcy smiled, but his stomach lurched uncomfortably within him. He had not always been a good brother to his young sister. Indeed, less than a year ago, he had almost lost Georgiana to a greedy, roguish fortune hunter, who had nearly succeeded in stealing away with her to Gretna Greene. Georgiana was still not entirely recovered from that near catastrophe, and Darcy was eager to do whatever he could to cheer her up. So he would borrow Gothic novels, though he preferred agricultural treatises and histories.

His carriage came to a halt, and a moment later, his footman opened the door. He and Bingley stepped out onto the pavement, and Darcy said to his coachman, “Return in five and forty minutes, if you will.”

“Yes, sir.”

Darcy took a deep, welcome breath of cold air, as he and Bingley began climbing the stairs to the library door. The snow was falling more thickly now, though he was confident that the roads would be passable later given that numerous carriages and coaches continually traveled the way.

For a moment, his thoughts shifted to his beloved Pemberley in Derbyshire. When he was a child, he and his parents were accustomed to skating on a nearby pond and afterwards rushing indoors to warm themselves by the fire and drink hot chocolate. It had been too long since he skated, too long since he had been so carefree. Now, as master of a large estate, he had no time for such pursuits. And yet, perhaps he could steal a few hours sometime soon and go skating with Georgiana. The Serpentine was not frozen over this year, but there were several ponds in St. James Park which were always excellent for ice skating.

The two gentlemen stepped into the door of the library, and Darcy said, “Do not feel you must accompany me to look at Gothic novels, Bingley. I will find a few that Georgiana has not read before, and then move on to the Reading Room.”

“As you know, I am not a great reader,” Bingley said with a grin, “and that definitely includes Gothic literature. I will proceed to the Reading Room and look over the periodicals. I daresay there are some on sport which I will find interesting.”

Darcy nodded and stepped through the door into the vast space of Hookham’s library. He felt his shoulders relax as his usually serious countenance was transformed by a heartfelt smile. He was owner of two fine libraries, but nonetheless, he found great joy in being in the presence of so much unknown literature, even if some of it was considered ‘sensational’ and ‘uncultured.”

He turned toward the southeast corner of the library, eager to find some new books for his beloved sister. For that matter, he too might glance within the pages of such literature. The last months had been difficult ones for him as well; first with Georgiana’s near disaster at Ramsgate, followed by several challenging months in Hertfordshire with Bingley. His friend had nearly succumbed to the charms of Miss Jane Bennet, an impoverished lady with no true affection for him, and he himself had been badly discomposed by Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the lady’s next younger sister. Even now his mind could conjure Miss Elizabeth in an instant; her beautiful dark eyes, her pleasing figure, her graceful movements, her dark curls clustered underneath her favorite yellow bonnet. She was a most unusual young woman, Miss Elizabeth, who delighted in debating with him, and he had been strangely affected. Darcy had hoped that the passage of time would whisk away such fond memories, but he still dreamed of her many a night. For a gentleman who prided himself on regulating his own heart and mind, this was both shocking and discouraging.

Darcy rounded a freestanding shelf of books and found himself in the Gothic section. It was empty save for one young woman who was turned away from him, a book in her hands, her head bent. For a moment, his breath caught in wonder. The lady looked like … like … no, certainly not. It was disquieting that his imagination would play such tricks on him as to fancy that a random young woman could be Miss Elizabeth. And why should his mind inevitably think of her? Was she really so remarkable? He sighed to himself, perhaps a bit too loudly.

The woman turned around and gasped aloud, which matched Darcy’s own in-drawn breath.

“Mr. Darcy!” Miss Elizabeth exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”