Prologue
Pemberley,
Derbyshire, 1794
“Iwould speakto you on an urgent matter. If you continue to persist with this charade, we must establish the future for Fitzwilliam and Anne.”
“My niece?”
“Yes, your niece. I want your assurance that Fitzwilliam will marry Anne when they come of age.”
Lady Anne sighed with both the exhaustion of her illness and the weight of her sister’s demands. Her light blue eyes flitted around the room endeavoring to memorize everything that mattered to her in the world: the picture of Fitzwilliam hanging above the fireplace; the miniature of her dear husband on her bedside table; the silver rattle for Georgiana on the dresser; the view of the grounds of Pemberley through the window. All this she absorbed as she listened to her sister’s prattling.
“I want you to promise you will speak to him about his responsibility to the family, to Pemberley, and to Anne.”
“Catherine, Fitzwilliam is not yet twelve years old. He does not need to have it thrust on him by his dying mother that he should marry Anne. She is a fine girl but I want him to marry for love, not duty.”
“And what if he does love Anne? What then?” Lady Catherine asked indignantly.
“She is a dear girl, and I am sure she will make a wonderful wife. If that is Fitzwilliam’s wish, then that is what I wish for him.”
“And yet…?”
“And yet, I do not want the last moments with my son to be those of guilt. Please drop this. Allow me that.” She began to cough forcefully and her maid assisted her with a cup of water as her sister sat there unmoved.
When the fit was over, Lady Catherine said, “I see I cannot change your mind so I will move on to a different subject. My solicitor drew up these papers to ensure your inheritance from Father’s estate will pass in trust for Georgiana. Fitzwilliam will be provided for by the Darcy estate. You owe this to your daughter.”
“I believe my husband has taken care of this,” she replied weakly, reaching for the papers.
“No, he has not.” Lady Catherine placed a quill in her sister’s fingers instead of the papers. “Sign there at the bottom.”
She pointed to the lower portion of the paper as Lady Anne withdrew her hand. “I would rather George looked at these before I sign anything.”
Lady Catherine bristled. “Anne, do you not trust me? I am your sister. Everything I do is for your benefit. Allow me this final kindness for you. While you have time.”
A wave of uncertainty washed over her as Lady Anne Darcy, the mistress of the great estate of Pemberley, was once again reduced to a child by the mere tone of her older sister’s words. “Very well, Catherine.” She sighed and weakly scrawled her name across the paper. “Sister, I am tired. Please leave me to rest.”
Lady Catherine rose quickly. “Very well. Goodnight.”
“Please ask Hazel to come in?”
“Of course.”
Her breath shallow, Anne Darcy waited as her trusted maid returned.
“My lady?”
“Hazel. Please take a letter for me.”
“Of course, Your Ladyship.”
“Once I have signed it, place it on my writing desk.”
“Yes, my lady. How would you like me to begin?”
Lady Anne Darcy looked out the window feeling the regrets of a life unlived. Tears welled in her eyes as she began. “My dearest Fitzwilliam…”
Chapter 1
