Page 1

Chapter One

Catherine Georgiana Darcy, known affectionately as Kate, adored her family, but they were very, very loud. When they descended upon Pemberley in the summer, she often found the noise and disorder more than she could bear, and this year was louder and more riotous than she could ever remember. It was the day preceding her father's fiftieth birthday, and despite him being a quiet and generally retiring man and professing to want nothing more than the company of his wife and daughters for his landmark birthday, her mother had arranged a celebration of what felt like royal proportions. Her father had grumbled, of course, but from the soft smiles Kate had caught him giving his wife and the genuine pleasure with which he greeted each new friend or relative, she suspected he was enjoying himself more than he let on.

Kate, on the other hand, was hiding. She had been sitting quite amenably beneath the shade of her favourite oak tree with the third volume of Mr Lyell's Principles of Geology. She found the whole subject fascinating. To think of the earth changing by small degrees over an unimaginable expanse of time, mountains rising and seas retreating until layer upon layer of rock recorded a history older than any human civilisation. There was something miraculous about it, even if very few people of Kate's acquaintance seemed to think rocks worthy of prolonged conversation.

Her papa did. He shared her interest in the sciences, and some of Kate's favourite hours were spent in his study, sipping chocolate and discussing whatever she had been reading or a new paper that he had acquired for her through his connections at the Royal Society.

There was little chance of that at present, however. Her peaceful contemplation had been upended by a game of cricket which appeared to have descended into madness. She had no particular feelings for or against cricket. She could quite understand the pleasure of being outside on a fine day and, if she stretched her imagination very far, she could see there must be some satisfaction in sporting activity. Her objection began when people cheated and ignored rules as they went along, a frustratingly common trait in her family.

Her uncle Richard, who was old enough to know better, and her uncle Charles (also old enough to know better) had taken her younger sister Mina by the arms and lifted her from the ground to prevent her completing a run. Mina was shrieking, both men were laughing and her mother, who was acting as umpire, was pretending not to have seen any of it. Even her father, her last bastion against chaos, was laughing heartily as her young cousin, Henry, executed a wobbly cartwheel right through the game.

Her older sister Bella, meanwhile, was making such a poor show of fielding that Kate could only assume marriage had affected her eyesight. Her husband George had whispered something in her ear while the ball rolled neatly past her and Bella smiled dreamily up at him. Public displays of affection were also low on Kate’s list of preferred forms of entertainment.

That was quite enough of familial proximity for the moment. Kate gathered up her skirts, retrieved her bonnet, closed her book and retreated. Surely Pemberley was large enough for her to find one quiet corner.

As she entered the main hall, after finding several rooms occupied by servants preparing for guest entertainments, she was starting to feel like her home was disobliging her at every turn. She walked past the large formal parlour and saw her great-aunt Catherine was holding court. Kate increased her pace.

"There she is!" came the familiar cry of her ancient but still apparently sharp-as-a-pin aunt. "One expects more from one's namesake. Reading is a respectable accomplishment in a young lady, but this constant devotion to dusty books is worrisome. Still, with such a mother as she has, what can one expect? Breeding always outs."

Kate caught her aunt Anne's eye over the frills of her great-aunt's elaborate cap. Anne gave her a look of sympathy as Kate feigned deafness and scurried away.

The library was her next attempt at a port in the storm and when she saw it was occupied, she had a childish impulse to stamp her feet. This really was too vexing. Kate tried not to huff as she stepped inside and took stock.

A tall gentleman stood beside one of the long windows overlooking the lawn. She considered sitting down and beginning reading in the hope that he would not engage her in conversation, then examined the benefits of retreating before he noticed her presence. She had just decided that retreat was the least troublesome course when he turned around.

Kate vaguely recognised him. She thought he might be a friend of Aunt Anne and Uncle Richard, although she could not recall his name. She was not very good at talking to men. In truth, she was not especially good at talking to anyone she did not know well, but gentlemen were particularly alarming. She would much rather spend her time with animals or books than people; they were so much more pleasantly straightforward.

She had so far managed to persuade her parents that a Season in London would not be to her advantage, and thankfully they had listened, although her mother's hints about widening her circle of acquaintance had become more frequent of late. Kate saw no reason why her circle required widening. She had no particular desire to marry or leave Pemberley. There was a wonderful library here. There were horses and dogs, woods and streams, rocks and insects enough to occupy several lifetimes, and learning had no end to it. Was that not the most wonderful thing? A person could spend her whole life trying to understand the world and still have more of it left to discover.

This gentleman did not appear to be the sort who spent much time worrying about the mysteries of the natural world. He appeared to be a coxcomb of the first order. His bottle-green coat was fitted so tightly that Kate could not imagine its owner could lift his arms any higher than was required to raise a teacup or wineglass. Beneath it, he wore a matching green waistcoat embroidered in delicate gold thread, perfectly fitted breeches and boots polished to a mirror shine. His chestnut hair was curled over his forehead in the affected manner of the latest fashion. Kate thought it made him look like a self-important rooster.

The face beneath it was harder to find fault with. He had a broad brow, straight nose and a firm, rather handsome mouth. His brown eyes were almond-shaped and framed by long dark lashes and carefully groomed dark brows. His cravat had been arranged with such mathematical precision that his valet must have laboured over it for some time, and his whole appearance seemed designed for the purpose of striking heroic poses rather than moving about in the world.

In one gloved hand he held a polished dark walking stick, although why a healthy young man required a walking stick indoors she could not imagine. Its handle was a great smooth piece of honey-coloured amber set into silver. That, at least, was interesting.

His brown eyes were observing her with an amusement that made the skin on the back of her neck prickle. One corner of his mouth rose and she had the distinct feeling she was being laughed at.

Kate made a half-hearted curtsey. "I am very sorry to disturb you, sir. I shall leave you to your peace."

"Oh, no. No, not on my account. Not a bit of it. Being disturbed by a pretty lady is never an inconvenience." He grinned at her and then his gaze travelled around the room. "And good God, this library is larger than most ballrooms. I daresay we could share it quite peacefully and never come within shouting distance of one another."

"I am sure," she said softly, walking over to a bookshelf and examining the spines. It gave her an excuse not to look at him directly. She was sure his compliment was the throwaway speech of a dandy, but it made her wish for the ground to open and swallow her whole.

"I was just heading out for a walk. Though I thought I might join what appears to be the rowdiest cricket match in Christendom." He glanced through the window. "Someone appears to be carrying a young lady beneath one arm. I don’t remember that particular style of play at Oxford."

Of course he had gone to Oxford. And had probably learned very little, preferring instead to run about with equally empty-headed friends, run up enormous tailoring bills and fail to attend lectures. What Kate would have given to attend one of those great cathedrals of learning. She was denied the opportunity simply because she had been born a woman, while silly men like this wandered through their halls as though the privilege were theirs by right.

"That is my sister." She coughed uncomfortably. "Mina. Or Wilhelmina, more precisely."

"Ah, precision of speech and meaning is something I greatly admire." He watched the players for another moment. "Should we assist her?"

"No." She was certain from his expression that he was laughing at her stiff manner.

"You are quite right. She looks to be enjoying herself tremendously. I don't believe we have been introduced," he continued. "You are one of the Darcy girls, are you not?"

Kate tightened her fingers around the book. "It would not be proper for me to introduce myself."

"Oh, pish. It is a house party. We are all friends here. Or soon will be." Kate stared at him, aghast. He grinned. "Or some of us are, at least. I shall begin," he said, offering her a flamboyant bow. "Mr Nathaniel Briar, at your service. And it is my very great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Darcy."