Prologue

PROLOGUE

4 February 1813 - Pemberley

Placing the ledger in his desk drawer, Fitzwilliam Darcy was distracted by the glare of sunlight through the window. Frost covered the ground. The few leaves on the tree branches were curled at their edges and brown. The sky was a brilliant blue that lifted his mood. If only his sister Georgiana were in residence, his life would be perfect.

“Sir, an express rider just arrived.” His butler handed Fitzwilliam Darcy a letter rimmed in black—a death knell. The only reason someone would notify him was if…. His heart dropped to his stomach.

Has something happened to Georgiana? His sister was well-protected by their uncle and aunt. He had no news from them that she was ill. Or Richard? His favorite cousin was an active colonel in His Majesty’s army. But he was no longer on the continent. Had he been gravely injured while training green recruits? Or was it one of his aunts or uncles?

Breaking the seal, he immediately recognized Charles Bingley’s poor penmanship.Though relieved that the news was not of a close relative, Bingley was once a friend .

2 February 1813

Darcy,

I need you desperately. My beloved Jane has… I cannot write the words. I have two babies, Charles and Clara, who will never know their wonderful mother. They will never feel her arms surrounding them or her heart beating just for them.

My dearest Jane has been my joy, my life, as devoted a wife as was ever possible. How can I go on without her? I am lost. I am unfit to care for them nor to be master of Netherfield Park. I need Jane by my side, and she is no longer…

Darcy, I am bereft, not knowing how to place one foot in front of the other. How can I possibly think of tomorrow when today’s pain is unbearable?

Please, Darcy, forget my harsh words when we last met. There is no one else I trust to support me, to guide me through these dark days. Before our disagreement, you promised to be godparent to my children as I would be to yours, do you recall? You, Richard, and I discussed unpleasant arrangements, never dreaming that I would be in this position two years later. Darcy, I need you to protect my children until I can bear the responsibility on my own. The twins are the best of me, far more than I deserve. If only my dearest, beloved Jane…

Help me, I beg you. For all our differences, the one constant in my mind is the devotion you have to your family. Please care and keep my children from harm until I can stand on my own again. Come, please.

Yours in sorrow,

Charles A. Bingley

Darcy’s heart broke as he devoured the page. Until recently, Bingley was one of Darcy’s closest companions.

Mrs. Bingley gone? No, it cannot be. Charles adored her. They should never have been torn apart.

The letter shook in his hands. Darcy’s anguish over the suffering of his friend, in addition to the guilt of harming Bingley and his wife, tangled in his mind. He slumped in his chair.

Once Darcy overcame his error in judgment about Miss Jane Bennet, he realized that she was the perfect match for his friend, a classic beauty with a calm presence who possessed a gentle heart. Darcy was an idiot for believing he knew better than Bingley which lady was best qualified to be Mrs. Bingley.

And Jane Bingley was Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s favorite sister.

Elizabeth! His heart flickered with hope, then plunged from the letter’s bitter blow. She must feel the loss most grievously.

Charles Bingley and Miss Elizabeth did not deserve to lose one so beloved.

Despite the bright winter day, darkness settled over his soul. Carefully placing the black-rimmed letter on the desk, he penned a short reply for the express rider, then called for his servants to pack for a lengthy stay in Hertfordshire. Within two hours, he was in his carriage headed south.Bingley needed him. He refused to let him down this time.

Cold seeped through the windows as his coach traversed the barren landscape. Under normal conditions, a comfortable journey from Derbyshire to Hertfordshire took four days. His driver was skilled enough to cut the time in half when pressed.

Bingley! The image of the younger man hosting his first ball, delighted with everything and everyone, was forever engraved in his mind. Darcy regarded Bingley as the most amiable man of his acquaintance, radiating happiness to Darcy’s reserve. He was the perfect companion to lighten the bleak winter days as he had done every year for the past half a decade. Except for this winter.

What an arrogant arse I was! How wrong I was.

If only he could go back in time to the autumn of 1811 and undo the mistakes that he made, mistakes that had grave consequences.

The house party at his newly leased estate in Hertfordshire was Bingley’s first attempt at property management. The two men spent hours on horseback going over every inch of Netherfield Park. Once night fell, they avoided his two pernicious sisters and Bingley’s glutton of a brother-in-law by reviewing accounts and discussing their future, the sort of conversation that invigorated Darcy. Bingley had so many plans for the year he would live in Hertfordshire. His enthusiasm was contagious until even Darcy looked forward to each new day.

Then, they were introduced to the Bennets.

Instead of looking at Elizabeth Bennet with impartial eyes, he judged her harshly based on the actions of others, in particular her mother and younger sisters. Darcy insulted her to her face, claiming she was merely tolerable, not handsome enough to dance with at a local assembly.

Bile stirred in his gut at the memory. His was not the actions of a gentleman. Shame on him for showing blatant disrespect to a lady.

His penance for his error began the next time he saw her. At Lucas Lodge, she was standing between her eldest sister and Miss Charlotte Lucas. Jane Bennet, though lovely, was insipid compared to Elizabeth, as was Miss Lucas. Jane was ice. Elizabeth was a raging fire that burned deep in his veins: temptation personified. Darcy tried to ignore her. Ha! Impossible!

When Jane Bennet was a guest at Netherfield Park, her sister arrived to care for her during her illness. Foolishly, Darcy continued to misjudge her. He assumed that Elizabeth was like every other unattached female who sought opportunities to impress him. Instead, she questioned his opinions and debated his point of view to the extent that he was often left speechless. She intrigued him.

At night, he dreamed of her.

After six weeks of being occasionally in her company, Darcy understood that leaving Hertfordshire permanently was the only way to purge Elizabeth Bennet from his system.

He was not the only one to see the dangers of keeping close company with the Bennets. Bingley’s sisters, certain that Jane Bennet’s attention to Bingley was a paltry attraction, encouraged Darcy to abandon Netherfield Park after Bingley’s ball.

The carriage jolted over the rough road, recalling him to the present. When they came to a smooth stretch, he closed his eyes as the memories flooded his mind. One poor decision after another stripped away his arrogant pride until he could no longer deny his responsibility for Bingley’s loss. It was like walking down a corridor of consequences where every door led to a disaster but one, and he continued not to choose that door.

He was oblivious to Miss Bennet’s affection for his friend at the time. What was he thinking? It was not Darcy’s business to interfere in another man’s personal life. Why he thought he was an expert on issues of a romantic nature, he could no longer recall.

Except he easily remembered his motive for meddling, for that was what it was. Elizabeth tempted him against his will and his reason. Each time they were in the same room, Darcy’s attraction grew. She had a liveliness of spirit that enchanted him, a figure that was light and pleasing, and wit that appealed to Darcy’s mind and heart. What she did not have was a substantial dowry or proper connections for a man of his sphere. He should never pursue her. He could never marry her.

Had Bingley and Miss Jane Bennet wed, Darcy and Miss Elizabeth would have been thrown together, tantalizing him beyond his control. So, he selfishly told his friend that Jane Bennet did not care, crushing Bingley’s hopes and ending any opportunity for Darcy’s affections to become fully engaged. Bingley, being Bingley, listened when he should not have.

Darcy’s guilt ate at him.

When the new year began, instead of celebrating 1812 with a bevy of happy companions, Bingley’s continued heartbreak in believing he was unwanted by Jane Bennet cloaked the party in moroseness.

When Caroline Bingley later claimed a closeness to Darcy by virtue of their secret plan, he had to confess his part in the deception to Bingley. Unfortunately, he had waited months before telling him. In doing so, the wound was too deep to heal.

Relaxing his jaw to keep the ache from his teeth, he admitted to himself that he never expected Bingley’s reaction when he told him that Miss Bennet had been in London since the ball in hopes of seeing the man she loved.

Instead of shrugging it off, Bingley was livid. He stormed from Darcy House, declaring that he would finally control Caroline by seeing that she married any man interested in her or her dowry and that he never wanted to see Darcy again.

Bingley meant every word. He never looked back. The loss of a good friend was complete.

Darcy scoffed at his own ignorance. He had justified his actions by convincing himself that surely Bingley would eventually return. Ha! Weeks later, Darcy read the wedding announcement in the papers. Bingley married Jane Bennet on April 7 of the same year. Of course, he was not invited. In October, the circulating paper contained notice of Miss Caroline Bingley’s marriage to Lord Malcolm Armstrong, a baron from Cornwall. Once Darcy departed for his family estate of Pemberley in Derbyshire, he heard nothing more of the Bingleys at all.

Until today.

Darcy rubbed at his chest. In vain, he hoped for distraction, something to divert his thoughts from the night of Bingley’s ball at Netherfield Park, the last time he saw Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Impossible! Now that the floodgates of his deepest regrets had opened, there was no stopping them.

The evening had been unseasonably warm for late November. After his required sets with Bingley’s sisters, there was only one lady Darcy wanted to dance with, Miss Elizabeth. Her gown was white trimmed in sapphire. Her curls were dotted with small white flowers with a matching blue and gold ribbon. She was regal, the loveliest woman he had ever seen, and he wanted her. He asked for a set, one final chance to be in her immediate presence.

When she accepted his hand, a jolt surged up his arm at her touch. Her fine eyes sparkled in the candlelight. Her steps matched his perfectly. She engaged all his senses—until they spoke. Their words sharp and bitter, they argued about George Wickham, the rake who tried to seduce his young sister, Georgiana. Miss Elizabeth praised Wickham as charming and honorable. Darcy knew the truth, which was too vile to debate in public.

After the ball, despite their disagreement, he felt the danger of caring far more than he should have. When Bingley left the next morning to conduct business in London, at Caroline Bingley’s urging, Darcy followed with plans to stay as far away as possible from Elizabeth Bennet.

Bingley’s heart was not the only one affected. Day after day, night after night, Darcy struggled to leave every memory of her behind. Well, he certainly accomplished his purpose, for he had not set eyes on her these last fourteen months, and the fault was entirely his.

Had matters only turned out differently. Had he not interfered, Bingley and Jane would have had several more months of wedded bliss. And he would have been happily engaged or married to Elizabeth. They would spend the holiday season together. Perhaps they would have a child of their own.

A sharp pain shot to the back of his eyes when the carriage bounced over the rough road, returning Darcy to the present.

To repair the harm he caused, he would do everything within his power to help Bingley and his children…and Miss Elizabeth Bennet.