Prologue

MAY 1812, MERYTON

I t was the last week of the regiment's stay in Meryton, and all of the young ladies in the neighbourhood were drooping apace. The dejection was almost universal. The elder Miss Bennets alone were still able to eat, drink, sleep, and pursue the usual course of their employments.

On his final evening in Meryton, Mr Wickham dined at Longbourn along with several others of the officers. His gallantry towards Elizabeth had long since worn thin. Though she might have once considered him something of a favourite—and believed he thought likewise of her—his attentions had been too quickly transferred once Miss Mary King arrived in Meryton. Miss King was a sweet girl, although not very handsome. By far her greatest appeal was a recent inheritance of ten thousand pounds. Mr Wickham's defection was so rapid, and so complete, that it left Elizabeth thinking much less of the sincerity of his charms.

But he had not broken her heart, no matter how often Lydia would insist on teasing her about it. Elizabeth was perfectly equal to the task of friendly indifference when he came to her in the family's drawing room, enquiring of her plans for the summer.

"I shall travel with my aunt and uncle Gardiner," she replied. "We intend to visit the Lake District and shall stop in Derbyshire to visit the places where my aunt lived as a girl."

"At Christmastime, I remember your aunt telling me she was from Lambton," Mr Wickham said agreeably. "She spoke very fondly of the place where I was raised—at Pemberley."

"Oh yes. I believe she is determined to tour the estate."

"You must not encourage it," Mr Wickham said immediately, surprising her with his vehemence. He looked away then, turning to face the window nearest them. It was open to allow the entry of the spring breeze, and to the others in the party, that must have appeared his sole interest—a breath of fresh air. Elizabeth, however, saw true dismay upon his countenance.

After a moment, she asked gently, "Why is that, sir? When you spoke of it before, I believe you said you thought there was no place finer in all the land."

"Is that what I said?" His gaze was still fixed on the scene outside. "I believe it once was—back when I was a boy. But things do change, and that which we remember fondly in our youth oftentimes does not bear the scrutiny of adulthood."

The way he said so sent a surge of curiosity through Elizabeth, and before she could think better of it, she began, "From what my aunt has said?—"

"If your aunt has been long away, then she cannot know what became of it." At last, turning from the window, Mr Wickham faced her, looking inarguably sorrowful. "The last time I was there, I was sent away and ordered not to return, but I should not have wished to go back in any case. I do not think I could bear to see what Darcy has done—or rather, what has been laid to waste through his neglect."

"Darcy? Is that the name of the family?"

Mr Wickham nodded. "Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy is the master of Pemberley and is wholly responsible for the dreadful fate that has befallen it. He is a selfish, disagreeable man who cares nothing for… Forgive me." A dull flush appeared on his face.

Elizabeth knew she ought not to hear more of Mr Wickham's tales. He had already spoken of the man who he had been raised alongside, the one who had grown insufferably proud, and had denied him the legacy meant for him. He had not before named him, but now even that small concession to discretion had been laid aside.

She knew she would do best not to encourage further divulgences. Nevertheless, Elizabeth said, "What is it you believe this Mr Darcy has done to Pemberley?"

"The place is in ruin. The servants have mostly gone, save for one or two who are too old to get positions elsewhere. The streams and fields are overrun with fish and game, the house is in disrepair, the gardens are filled with weeds and vines."

"But why? What happened? "

"No one knows. Darcy simply disappeared, left behind everyone who depended upon him, Pemberley included. No one has seen hide nor hair of him since."

Elizabeth thought about that for a moment. "Perhaps he was injured, or even killed?"

Mr Wickham shook his head. "I think not, for if he had been, somebody would have known something of the matter. Darcy has always been an excessively selfish, disdainful sort of man, and I daresay wherever he is, it is because he wishes to be there. His disappearance left many who depended upon that great house for their livelihoods in dire straits, but I doubt that is of any consequence to him."

"He was well the last you saw him? When you were ordered off the estate?"

"It was in the year six. I had lately had my twenty-first birthday, and my benefactor, the elder Mr Darcy, was recently deceased. He always intended me for the church, but the son flatly refused to honour the father's promise. Darcy offered me a pittance and ordered me off the land. In retrospect, it might have been a blessing in disguise, for the living would have gone away regardless when he disappeared."

"You are likely correct," Elizabeth agreed.

"What I do know is this—you should spare your aunt's sentiments and urge her to put aside any notions of visiting Pemberley. Some scenes are best left to memory because what is present can only disappoint."

"I shall advise her to consider it," Elizabeth replied with a smile .

He reached out and briefly, lightly touched her arm. "Pray heed me, madam. Leave Pemberley to rot."

Elizabeth's holiday with the Gardiners commenced in July. She was enraptured by the sights they saw and spoke often, and warmly, of her gratitude to her aunt and uncle for taking her along.

They had just arrived at their lodgings in Lambton and while the maids were unpacking, drank tea and awaited a dinner to be brought up.

"I would like to say," Mr Gardiner opined, "that I still think we ought to visit Pemberley."

There was a light knock then, announcing the arrival of the servants with their meal. Mrs Gardiner showed them where to place it and then turned her attention to Elizabeth.

"I think Mr Wickham must surely have exaggerated about the state of things at Pemberley. I cannot believe any Darcy would so neglect their heritage."

There was a slight scoffing sound then. Elizabeth believed it came from the young man who was setting delicious-smelling plates and platters on their dining table, but as his face was unreadable, she could not be certain.

"You did mention Mr Wickham lacked sincerity," Mr Gardiner reminded her. "And did you not say there was some disagreement between him and the present master?"

"That is true," Elizabeth acknowledged .

"Perhaps he wished to discredit the gentleman," Mr Gardiner suggested.

"It is possible, but there was more sorrow than anger in what he told me. In any case, I am perfectly willing to go, no matter what Mr Wickham may think. I only wished my aunt to know that what she remembers might be far different from what remains."

"I was probably no more than ten years old the last time I saw any of the Darcy family," Mrs Gardiner said. "I remember Lady Anne Darcy quite well! She was so very beautiful and wore gowns such as I never even imagined! She dedicated much of her time to helping the children in the village. I remember seeing her with her boy, a handsome little fellow?—"

The footman at last could take no more and muttered, "A handsome little fellow who has run off without a look back at them that needed him."

"So, it is true?" Elizabeth turned towards him. "Mr Darcy has disappeared?"

"Took off and no one seen him since," he replied with bitter enthusiasm. "Left horses in the pasture and food to rot in the larder."

The maid with him was called Hannah, and she immediately said something softly that sounded like a scold.

Looking stricken, she said to Mrs Gardiner, "Forgive us, ma'am. We ought not to speak so in front of visitors to the region."

"Sometimes you need to speak as you find," the young man said. He had red hair and a fair complexion that took on a flush. "Too many depended on Pemberley for our livings. Me own brother has been forced to move to another county just to be able to feed his family—and he once just under the stable master there! No one better than Joe Johnson with horses, to be sure!"

"It is a sore disappointment to us all to see something so lovely neglected," Hannah offered, still frowning at her companion. "Particularly when there are those who were once employed to keep it different who have no jobs now."

"You need not fear any sort of censure from us," Mr Gardiner said, reassuringly. "We appreciate your candour." He took coins from his pocket and handed them to her and the footman.

Hannah thanked him. "If you must, go see for yourself, but you should expect something quite dreadful," she said and then took her leave of them.

Their party sat to dine then, but Mrs Gardiner appeared melancholy. "I am so very grieved to hear what has become of Pemberley! It truly was something different, a very special place."

She then took it on herself to tell them of Pemberley's past splendour. She recalled a rose garden so fragrant that on a summer's day its scent filled the air, and willow trees that were large enough to hold a family of dryads. A babbling brook that danced with trout ran merrily through emerald green lawns, and there was a manor house of limestone that was fit for kings and queens.

"My mother and elder sister once had the privilege of going within, though only to a few of the rooms, of course. They were received by Lady Anne. Oh, what a day it was for dear Mama! She hardly knew what to wear and asked one of the local ladies to dress her hair. It was one of the finest days of her life, she always said. They sat and drank tea in a blue parlour and discussed some of the goings-on of the church." Mrs Gardiner shook her head. "I can hardly imagine that all of it, the house, the family, should have just fallen into nothing!"

"There is only one way to find out," Mr Gardiner said, taking a bite of ham and chewing it quickly. "And that is to go and see."

Elizabeth agreed with him. On their holiday, they had been to many elegant homes of the aristocracy already, and if she were perfectly honest, the thought of yet another of the like seemed tedious. How many antiques and artifacts could one view, after all? Pemberley, however, sounded like a bit of a mystery, and Elizabeth was always eager for one of those.

"Mr Wickham would be dismayed to know that all his warnings served only to stoke my interest," Elizabeth said. "I, for one, should be sorely disappointed if we do not go see this secretive, abandoned place."

"In any case, who knows when we shall come to Derbyshire again?" Mr Gardiner agreed. "We ought to see all we came to see."

"Decaying manor houses and abandoned fields have their own sort of beauty sometimes," Elizabeth added.

"Then it seems the plans are laid," said Mrs Gardiner.