An Engaging Friendship Read online




  Prologue

  "Baby Betsy!" Fitzwilliam called back, teasing the young girl behind him. He held out his stolen prize, letting the ribbons of her bonnet flap tauntingly in the air just beyond her reach.

  Behind him, a young Elizabeth was running as fast as her short legs would

  carry her. Her skirts were gathered up in one hand to prevent her from tripping on the hem. She railed against the unfair disadvantage of being born both a girl and several years younger than her tormentor.

  Suddenly, Fitzwilliam tripped over a rock, and fell face-first into the grass. He lay there laughing, and let go of his prize. A few moments later, Elizabeth snatched up her bonnet and glared at him. Her face was bright red from

  exertion, and she gulped down some much needed air. After catching her

  breath, she marched over to Fitzwilliam's prone body, and her small fist came down hard on his shoulder. Despite her small size, Fitzwilliam winced at the force of impact. "Serves you right, Fitzwilliam!" she exclaimed as she marched off.

  The young boy could not help laughing harder. In the next moment though, he jumped up to catch up with her, grabbing her hand when he did. Walking hand in hand, they made their way to a hidden grove that hosted a shallow brook.

  The previous week, they had discovered tadpoles in a small pool along its

  banks and were off to check their progress.

  When they reached the brook, Elizabeth took off her slippers and stockings, placing them neatly in the grass, well away from the water. She wiggled her toes, relishing the feel of the soft green grass beneath her bare feet. As she neared the banks of the brook, she hiked up the hem of her dress and carefully tested the water with her toe. The water was shallow, and the sun that filtered through the tree tops above had warmed it to a comfortable temperature.

  Confident it would not cause her to catch a chill, she stepped carefully into the crystal clear water.

  The temperature of the water meant nothing to Fitzwilliam; he had no intention of entering it. However, a daintily stepping Elizabeth was a great temptation.

  Giving into mischievous tendencies, he gave her a light push, causing her to stumble recklessly in the water. In an effort to maintain her balance, she

  dropped her gathered skirts, which allowed the hems to soak up water.

  "Fitzwilliam!" the startled girl shrieked. Without warning, and with a fierce look in her eye, she splashed him with two handfuls of water and then laughed at his startled expression.

  As he attempted to brush the droplets of water off his jacket, she splashed him again, laughing gleefully. That was all the inducement he needed. Boots and all, he trounced into the brook, and reciprocated in kind.

  After thoroughly soaking one another, they agreed to a truce and returned to the grassy banks where they laid in the grass to dry. Neither was anxious to return to the house soaking wet, yet again. The last time they had, there had been a great deal of scolding.

  While trying not to laugh, Mr. Bennet had said, "Lizzy! Look at you! Six inches in mud I dare say! It is not proper for young ladies to run and splash.

  What would your mother say if she saw you?"

  Elizabeth wanted to tell him that she had seen Lady Anne hide a chuckle

  behind her hand when she saw her; and if Lady Anne did not mind, neither

  should her mother. However, knowing her father was correct, she held her

  tongue and demurred.

  Fitzwilliam had received a similar dressing down from his father. "Mr. Bennet will not continue to visit if you insist on corrupting his daughter in such a manner. It is not proper for the two of you to play as you do. Miss Elizabeth is a gentleman's daughter, and as the son of a gentleman, you should not

  encourage such behaviour."

  Fitzwilliam pursed his lips together, trying not to laugh. Betsy was not a girl!

  She was great fun! Girls were boring; they sewed, and painted, and played with dolls. Betsy could climb trees, catch frogs, jump in streams, and throw a pretty good punch. She was not afraid of snakes or spiders, and she was good at

  playing pirates or knights -- even if she did refuse to be the damsel in distress.

  Besides, who else was he supposed to play with when Wesley or his cousins

  Richard and Stephen were not around?

  Chapter One

  "Hertfordshire?" Darcy asked his friend. He took a sip of wine and stared into the fire in his study. His eyes took on a distant look as the memories the name conjured filled his head. He was only partially aware that Charles was

  speaking, no doubt expounding on the greatness of the estate he had found.

  It had been a long time since Darcy had heard the names Hertfordshire or

  Meryton. What would Charles want with an estate in Hertfordshire? Based on

  what he knew, the area was made up mostly of small estates with no one of

  their circle. He would be much better off with an estate in Kent, Essex,

  Leicestershire, or even Oxfordshire. Darcy knew people with estates in all of those counties, and they were well respected men of the Ton. There was only one family he knew in Hertfordshire, and their name had not been on the lips of the Ton for at least two generations.

  Charles interrupted his thoughts in a rather impatient tone. "Will you visit the place with me? I took your advice and only leased the estate for a year. I have

  seen the estate, and like it well enough, but as an experienced land owner, I would like your opinion on its potential."

  Darcy dismissed Charles' question; his thoughts were stuck on the name

  Bennet. Li'l Beth. Betsy. Elizabeth. A stay at Netherfield would undoubtedly bring them face to face. Meryton was too small of a town to avoid her, and he was not sure he was prepared to see her. Would she be happy to see him? Or

  would she be angry? Would she want to renew their friendship? He felt a flutter of excitement in his stomach at the thought of seeing her. He had missed her greatly these last years.

  A near suffocating pain entered his chest at the memory of their last meeting.

  His hand unconsciously went to his jacket pocket, searching for the object he started carrying that day, but had ceased almost four months later.

  Realizing what he was doing, he shook his head to squelch his train of thought and follow a less painful path. Things were different now. She could be

  married, possibly with children of her own. After all, it had been six years since they had last spoken. She had likely forgotten him.

  Damn, Bingley! Of all the places to find an estate! Realizing Charles was still waiting for an answer, he said, "Yes, Bingley. I will accompany you, though I am uncertain on the length of my stay. Georgiana will have to travel with us as well." The words left his mouth before he had realized he had finalized the decision in his own mind.

  Bingley flashed a brilliant smile, ignoring Darcy's resigned tone, and strode over to shake his friend's hand. "Of course she is welcome! Thank you, Darcy!

  Thank you!"

  Darcy nodded and sighed heavily. It was too late now, he was already

  committed. To Hertfordshire he would go.

  The closer the carriage rolled towards Meryton, the more apprehensive Darcy became. He was torn between scanning the passing countryside for a set of

  familiar auburn curls and pulling the shades of the carriage in case they were spotted - not that the shades would do anything to hide his family crest on the carriage door.

  So much was at stake. The last thing he wanted was their first meeting to be by chance, and in the streets of town before he had recovered from the journey.

  He looked across the carriage and saw apprehension in his sister's face as well.

  "Are you uncomfortable about stayin
g with the Bingleys, dear?" Darcy asked.

  Georgiana shook her head no, but Darcy knew it was not the complete truth.

  When he had told her of the trip, he could see the fear in her eyes. She had looked like a frightened doe. He had tried to quell her anxiety by explaining that the people would be strangers and would know nothing of her, but it had

  the opposite effect. Her natural shyness only compounded her unease. She was apparently still not ready to be seen in public.

  He knew the only reason she had obliged was because he had asked her to

  come along. Since the incident last summer, she had become far too compliant.

  He needed to break her of it, but so far his efforts had only produced tears.

  "Will you tell me if it becomes intolerable? We need not stay more than a few days."

  Georgiana returned a small smile, understanding the implied meaning. "I will be fine, Brother, for as long as you wish to stay," she said meekly.

  Darcy nodded and looked to Mrs. Annesley for help, but the older woman only shook her head. Time, Mrs. Annesley had said. It would take time. He

  wondered once again how much time was enough. It had been three months,

  and there were few signs of improvement. She had quit crying on a daily basis, but she still had trouble looking at him when she spoke, and she was not happy; and then there was her unfettered obsequious attitude. Logically, he understood what she was feeling; at least he thought he did. He knew she feared

  disappointing him and was having difficulty trusting herself again. How to help her get past that though, baffled him. He wondered briefly if he should have told her about Elizabeth. The news of a reunion might at least bolster her spirits and take her out of this damnable melancholy. After further thought, he decided to stick to his resolution. If Elizabeth was angry at them, he could not allow Georgiana to see it. The rejection would be too great for her to bear.

  The carriage pulled up Netherfield's drive, and Darcy looked over the stately stone building. It was a good sized house for Bingley. Three levels, fifteen rooms, Darcy guessed, based on the number of windows that lined the third

  floor. From outward appearances, the house was well maintained. The front

  gardens were a little overrun, as was the house ivy, but nothing that could not be fixed within a day or two with a good gardener. At the entrance, he could see Bingley waiting anxiously for their arrival and smiled to himself. At least someone was excited about this trip.

  "Welcome Darcy!" Bingley greeted cheerfully. Darcy shook his friend's hand and then turned to hand down his sister and Mrs. Annesley.

  "Welcome, Miss Darcy, Mrs. Annesley," Bingley said jubilantly.

  Darcy noted a new touch of pride in Bingley's tone. His friend should be proud.

  Any estate was something to be proud of.

  "Mrs. Willows will show you to your rooms," Bingley added.

  As the group approached the house, Bingley asked, "What do you think of the place?"

  Darcy smirked at Bingley's childlike excitement. He needed to be happy for his friend despite the personal war he waged within himself. Bingley had taken a big step and had every right to be proud and excited. "I have seen only the

  drive and front of the house, Bingley. I can hardly form an opinion," Darcy replied, clapping his friend's shoulder as an indication of his jest.

  "Perhaps we can ride out later?" Bingley suggested sheepishly.

  Darcy was far too tired for a ride, especially having just descended from a carriage. Surely Bingley understood this. "We shall see. I would like to see my sister and her companion settled, and then freshen up myself." He tried to sound as positive as he could, but he was truly not looking forward to jumping in a saddle right away.

  Bingley nodded, with a quiet. "Forgive me, Darcy."

  Darcy smiled understandingly at his friend and recalled how excited he had

  been the first time his father had taken him out to survey the grounds of

  Pemberley. Knowing Bingley's request had stemmed from his enthusiasm, he

  knew he could not disappoint him. "All in good time, Bingley. We will take a look at the immediate grounds this afternoon, and ride out tomorrow or the

  next day. Is that acceptable?"

  "Excellent!" exclaimed Bingley, sounding much more like himself.

  The following evening, Darcy entered the Assembly room next to Bingley.

  Even before entering the room, he had heard the whispers of Bingley's five

  thousand a year, and how he was the most eligible bachelor to enter Meryton in years. Normally, he would have been self-conscious, and would have listened for such rumours concerning him, but tonight he was preoccupied with other

  thoughts; particularly, those involving a petite, dark haired girl.

  He scanned the room looking for her. Would he even recognize her? Perhaps

  she had married and moved away. He relaxed slightly at that thought. He was not a coward, but he was very uncertain of his welcome. The last thing he

  wanted was a confrontation in front of a room full of strangers.

  As Elizabeth caught her first glimpse of the newcomers, she clapped her hand against her mouth to stifle a gasp of recognition. Surely it could not be him!

  The man before her looked like him, but at the same time he seemed taller, and somehow much older than he should. Her eyes remained glued to him as he

  continued his march through the room. When she saw the unmistakable brow,

  jaw, and penetrating look, she knew it was him. What is Fitzwilliam Darcy doing here? Hoping to be told she was wrong, she turned to her friend Charlotte and whispered, "The dark haired one? Who is he?"

  Charlotte replied in a low voice, "Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, in Derbyshire. He is Mr. Bingley's guest. It is rumoured he has ten thousand a year."

  Elizabeth paled. It was him! How he had changed! Elizabeth's mind

  raced. How do I greet him? Would he remember me? Certainly not after all this time! Why does he look so dour? Why does not he smile like he used to? She

  looked back up at him, just as he was passing her, and their eyes locked for the briefest of moments before Elizabeth looked away.

  Before Elizabeth could collect her thoughts and determine how to greet the

  man, she heard herself being summoned by her mother for introductions. She

  steeled herself for whatever was about to happen. He certainly will not remember you, she told herself. It has been six years!

  Before she knew it, she heard her mother saying, "My second eldest daughter, Elizabeth..."

  Elizabeth tried to maintain her focus on the blond haired man she was being introduced to, a Mister Charles Bingley. Try as she might, though, she could not help stealing a look towards the tall gentlemen standing next to him. A small, uneasy smile from him told her he had recognized her. She swallowed.

  Before Charles could turn to introduce his friend, Darcy uncharacteristically stepped forward and said with a bow, "Miss Elizabeth."

  Elizabeth felt a heat rise up her neck, and knew she was blushing. For all the gold in the world, she could not make herself look him in the eye. With a semi-bashful smile, her eyes locked firmly on the knot of his cravat, she returned the greeting. "Mr. Darcy."

  Sir William looked from Elizabeth to Darcy. "You two know each other?"

  Elizabeth raised her chin at the impertinent question and replied, "Yes. Our families were introduced a number of years ago." She ignored the confused, but astonished look on her mother's face, and then added a little sharply, "We have not been in communication for quite some time."

  Standing in the shadows of the musician's box overhead, nobody saw Darcy

  flinch at Elizabeth's barb.

  "Capital!" Sir William replied, oblivious to the faces or feelings of the others.

  Darcy heard Bingley request a dance with Miss Bennet, and before he knew

  what he was saying, he had requested the first set with Elizabeth.
r />   Elizabeth hesitated for a moment. The last thing she wanted was to spend the next thirty minutes in the man's company. Nonetheless, it would be rude to

  decline, and she certainly had no desire to sit down the entire night, so she accepted the invitation.

  The dance began in silence, neither of them knowing how to begin; both of

  them reflecting on the last time they had spoken. It was in a grove -- their grove -- at Pemberley. Darcy's extended family was residing at Pemberley, and Darcy had fled to the grove for some time alone.

  Elizabeth had come to Pemberley at his father's request; it was a trip to say goodbye. His father was very ill, and the doctor had told him to prepare for the worst. After having some final time with her godfather, she had gone in search of Darcy. Not unexpectedly, she had found him sitting near the bank of the

  brook, crying. Without a word, she put a hand on his shoulder and sat down next him. They talked a little, but mostly she had just let him cry. When it neared time for them to return to the house, she pulled out her handkerchief and gave it to him, letting him use it to dry his tear stained cheeks. It was never returned.

  They were well into the dance when Elizabeth finally opened, "Mr. Darcy, what a surprise to see you in Hertfordshire." Her tone was polite, but cool.

  "Indeed, though I must confess there was little surprise on my part."

  The two parted briefly, giving Elizabeth a moment to think. When they

  returned to each other, Elizabeth said, "Then you have the advantage of the element of surprise."

  Darcy could not help a small smile that peeked out. She had not changed; she was as impertinent and teasing as ever. "Perhaps. Perhaps not," he clipped smugly.

  Elizabeth narrowed her eyes slightly. He was as she expected; haughty and

  smug, taking every opportunity to demonstrate his superiority. "Then have you achieved your objective?"

  "Partially." He answered, knowing the terseness would irritate her. He revelled in the ease in which they had fallen back into their old patterns, and how

  relaxed he felt in her presence - even after their prolonged absence. It was a soothing balm after last summer.

  There was a new silence as Elizabeth's ire slowly grew. What did he hope to achieve by showing up after six years? Disdainfully, she reflected on the changes she saw in him. She was glad she did not have to watch this proud,