Chapter 1 – His Perfect Gift

Happy Friday! I’ve been busy fixing up my house as well as proofing the audiobook for Rain and Retribution, which is extremely close to being submitted for approval. In the meantime, I hope you’re ready for the holidays because I have a Christmas story I’m prepping to come out next month. I don’t have a cover yet, but I’m about to start working on it. For now, let’s just check out the first chapter 🙂 I hope you’re ready! Don’t forget to tell me what you think afterwards!

Chapter 1

December 16^th 1811

Fitzwilliam Darcy dropped his head back into the squabs of the carriage with a sigh. The last thing he desired was to journey across town. Why had he capitulated so easily? He raised his head and levelled as stern a glare as he could muster at Richard. “I must insist you tell me where we are going.”

His cousin, who sat across from him, grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. The lout had to enjoy being insufferable. Why else would he behave so? “My but you are ill-tempered this morning. What has you in such a foul mood these days? I thought your stay with Bingley was to be a remedy, not make matters worse.” Richard tried his nerves more often than not, but Darcy refused to let on the true reason for his displeasure.

“If I am ill-tempered, why would two months in a house with Bingley’s sister improve my disposition?” When he awakened this morning, he had not expected he would be journeying to Cheapside today. At Richard’s first mention of the trip, he had refused, but his cousin, a colonel in the Regulars, was quite adept at picking and picking until Darcy relented. His cousin had not learnt the art in the army, but instead, from the years they had spent together in their youth. All Darcy had wanted was for Richard to cease his torment, which meant he now sat in a carriage bound for Cheapside, of all places.

“Are you not aware how much I dislike the balls and the dinner parties of the Season? I have endured Miss Bingley’s daily presence for months, as well as that infernal ball at Netherfield, and now your mother has insisted upon prolonging my torture by demanding my presence at her Twelfth Night fête. Then, I have been invited to a dinner party given by none other than Miss Bingley—as if I have not had enough of her cloying remarks and fawning compliments. I should think those upcoming two events alone would be enough to sour anyone’s disposition.” Darcy steered his attention to the view outside the window. What he would not give to avoid any further discourse on the subject. He needed Richard to give him quarter.

A hearty chuckle came from across the carriage. “I admit the lady is not well-liked, but the only teeth set on edge by Miss Bingley belong to you, cousin, and I daresay ’tis your own fault.”

Darcy’s head jerked back. “My fault?”

Richard shifted his sabre and relaxed further into the seat. “You are too concerned with offending Bingley to treat his sister as you would most ladies. You grit your teeth and accept her attentions when you should be as intolerable to her as you are to the others.”

He inhaled in an attempt to soothe that well of pressure building in his gut. “I may not enjoy speaking with the ladies as you do, but I am not intolerable.” Truth be told, he had only ever enjoyed speaking to one lady, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and today, his cousin dragged him away from his library to Cheapside. Cheapside of all places! He had refused, if for no other reason than to avoid another reminder of the lady who consumed his thoughts of late. Her uncle lived in Cheapside, did he not? Was there nothing that would spare him the torment of her memory? Unfortunately, his cousin would not leave him to the solitude of his library and had pestered him. Why could Richard not leave him be?

The colonel barked out a laugh. “I beg to differ. I have known many a lady who was offended by your method of keeping them at bay.”

“I have no wish to be ensnared by any of them, so I ensure I do nothing to encourage their hopes.” With a heavy exhale, Darcy grimaced. “But I am afraid my latest endeavour to be of aid to Bingley has not helped the matter with Miss Bingley.”

His cousin lifted his eyebrows and leaned forward in his seat. “So, you have saved Bingley from himself once again? What was it this time? Another bad investment opportunity?”

Darcy shook his head. “Bingley became enamoured of a local girl while in Hertfordshire.”

“That does not sound too dire,” said Richard, dismissing it with a wave. “He is always fancying himself in love. The notion passes soon enough.”

Again, Darcy shook his head. “No, this time was different. Bingley showed a decided preference for the young lady from the first evening of their acquaintance, and by the ball, it had become evident that he had raised the expectations of the neighbourhood. They all believed him soon to propose.”

His cousin furrowed his brows. “You felt a marriage to this lady to be imprudent?”

Darcy closed his eyes. How could he forget the deplorable behaviour of Mrs. Bennet and the three youngest Bennet daughters? “The match would have been unwise. She had little fortune, no connections, and the behaviour of her family was objectionable, to say the least.”

“You must consider it a triumph to have successfully separated the two.”

“You can be certain.” Darcy fidgeted with his cuffs, adjusting them at his wrists. “My only regret is that by colluding with Miss Bingley, she seems assured I will propose. I tell you: I am at my wit’s end. She is unbearable.”

Richard stared at him, his eyes boring into Darcy. What was he about? He could not suspect anything amiss, could he? He straightened and adjusted the set of his shoulders. His cousin started to point his finger, wagging it at Darcy. “Come to think of it, you returned from Netherfield in a horrid mood.” A ludicrous, crooked grin lit his cousin’s face. “Did you make the acquaintance of a lady in Hertfordshire? Would you be pining for someone as unsuitable as Bingley’s new angel?”

He scoffed as he picked a piece of invisible fluff from the sleeve of his topcoat. Elizabeth Bennet? Unsuitable? If not for her family and connections, she would be eminently suitable. “You are ridiculous. I would never be so careless.”

His cousin sighed. “No, I suppose you would not.” Richard’s voice turned dull with the last. Would he prefer Darcy fall in love with a lady their family would never accept?

No, he needed to distract Richard before he guessed the truth of the matter. “So, what is so special about this wine and brandy merchant?”

“Father has raved of the man for a few years now, and I happened to make his acquaintance last summer. I am unsure of his sources, but he boasts of a particularly fine assortment of Port, claret, and French brandy.” Richard had dipped his chin a bit with the mention of the last two. The man was certain to be a smuggler or was in partnership with one. “My father was impressed by their selection. He has also advised me to invest in the business, which has yielded a substantial return. Since you enjoy fine spirits as well as a sound business opportunity, I thought you may wish to meet the proprietor.”

Darcy suppressed a smile at the success of his manoeuvre. “I do not see the urgency of such a matter. I have a perfectly adequate supplier on Piccadilly Street, whom I have used since my father passed.”

With a huff, Richard sat back against the squabs. “I would wager this man’s prices to be more reasonable. He also delivers to Mayfair and Belgravia, which means you should not have to return once you have set up an account. Father merely pens him a letter with what he desires, and Mr. Gardiner arranges the rest.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds until Richard shook his head. “Whether you decide to do business with him or not, I have made the introduction, thus you cannot fault me for never doing so.” He turned towards the window, seeming to watch the buildings pass. Richard rarely lost his good humour. Perhaps Darcy was a bit churlish.

A row of houses along Gracechurch Street drew Darcy’s particular interest. He had no desire to argue any further with his cousin. A maid with several children stood upon the steps of a large corner house that appeared to be well kept. Could one of these homes belong to the uncle of Elizabeth Bennet? He had never thought to study the neighbourhood in the past—not that he ventured to Cheapside often, but some of these homes were on 24-foot-wide lots and, with their detailing, could have been nestled between the homes on Mayfair without standing apart. He shook himself. He needed to stop this ridiculousness. The appearance of a house rarely corresponded to the personality of the owner. After all, Longbourn was a charming and well-tended home by all outward appearances, yet the Bennets’ coarseness in company belied any impression one may have derived from their first glimpse of the estate.

A small park ahead caught his eye. Had Miss Elizabeth ever walked and enjoyed that particular prospect? She and Miss Bennet claimed to stay with their aunt and uncle from time to time, so the idea was not out of the realm of possibility. With her love for the activity, she must have taken a ramble through the pathways during one of her visits. He could almost envision her strolling through the trees, the hem of her morning gown stained with grass and dirt—much as she had appeared upon her impromptu arrival at Netherfield to care for her sister.

They drew closer, and a young lady standing at the front gates came into focus. He blinked. Was that…? He looked again. The lady was indeed Jane Bennet. Darcy drew back from the window while she entered the park hand in hand with a small child, a servant trailing behind.

He would have to ensure Bingley remained away from Cheapside for the near future. They had struggled so to prevent his return to Hertfordshire and to conceal Miss Bennet’s presence in London; it would not do for him to happen upon her now.

“There is a handsome young lady,” said his cousin, causing Darcy to flinch. “You jerked back from the window so. Do you know her?”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Darcy donned a mask of feigned indifference. “I would imagine a tradesman’s daughter, one of good means by her gown.”

His cousin frowned then narrowed his eyes. “You appeared to have recognised her, or at least, taken interest?”

“No, I am not acquainted with her, and as for her being of interest…” His last view as they passed was that of Jane Bennet, smiling to the child at her side. “She smiles too much.”

Richard gave a great guffaw. “That has to be the most preposterous notion I have ever heard you utter. What man has not been bewitched by the smile of a beautiful woman?”

Miss Elizabeth again came to mind, and Darcy could not help one side of his lip from tugging upward. “Perhaps a pair of fine eyes may one day garner my notice.”

His cousin shook his head. “I pity you when they do. You are so accustomed to maintaining your distance, you will be at a loss as to how to win her favour.” He turned serious and held Darcy’s eye. “But, she will be a lucky woman—a lucky woman indeed.” Before Darcy could respond, Richard started. “Oh! We have arrived.”

Once the step was placed, Darcy alighted after his cousin and gave a cursory glance to his surroundings. The street in both directions was busy with carts moving their wares. The narrow pavement boasted of a number of people, entering and exiting various shops with their parcels. A milliner was to one side of the door Richard approached, a dressmaker’s establishment to the opposite. As he followed his cousin into the shop, the cool air of the room held a slight musty quality. With the exception of the front window, bottles lined the walls, even behind the counter, except where room had been made for a door.

“Colonel! I had not expected to see you today.” The man who approached wore a genial countenance, his arms outstretched in a manner that conveyed welcome.

“I have extolled the many virtues of your shop to my cousin, so I thought I would force him from his study to accompany me. He prefers to hide away in his library rather than possibly come in contact with the sun.”

Darcy lifted his eyes to the ceiling, which the man saw but laughed. “Cousin, why do you not introduce me?” he said. Regardless of whether he wanted to be there, he would not be rude.

“Fitzwilliam Darcy, may I introduce Mr. Edward Gardiner?”

“You have come at an opportune moment. I just had a new shipment in this morning,” said Mr. Gardiner once they had bowed. He lifted an eyebrow to Richard. “I have yet to open it. Would you care to join me? I am certain there is something you would enjoy in those crates.”

His cousin rubbed his hands together in a manner more fitting Bingley than a colonel. “Lead the way, my good man.”

With a smile, Mr. Gardiner motioned for them to follow him behind the counter. “What do you prefer to drink, Mr. Darcy?”

“I keep a great deal of Port in my cellar. I do stock brandy when I have the opportunity.”

Mr. Gardiner nodded. After he said a few words to a man in the office, he led them down a narrow hallway and down a set of stone stairs. The air became more stagnant and stale and tickled his nose as they ventured further. When they reached the bottom, candles lit the musty, windowless chamber where several crates stood in the middle of the stone floor. Racks also lined the high walls, all laden with bottles.

Darcy pulled an unfamiliar bottle from the rack. “Constantia wine?” he said, his eyes wide.

“Is that a favourite, Mr. Darcy?”

He shook his head. “No, I have never tasted it. Do you sell a great deal of it?”

Mr. Gardiner tipped his head one way then the other. “A bit. The Prince Regent purchases part of my stock as does the colonel’s father. The Duke of Devonshire and the Duke of Cumberland have also requested cases. I do not often receive shipments of Constantia wine[i], and it never lasts for long after it arrives.” As Darcy made to return the bottle to the shelf, Mr. Gardiner pressed the wine back towards him. “Pray, try it with my compliments.”

Darcy shook his head. “’Tis generous of you, sir, but ’tis too much.” Constantia wine had to be imported from the southernmost peninsula of Africa and was rare. The bottle Mr. Gardiner offered him was exceedingly expensive.

With a smile, the man retrieved a tool hanging upon the wall. “I sent word to those who purchase my Constantia wine shipments yesterday. Those bottles will be gone within the next few days, and at a substantial price. I am happy to provide you with a bottle to sample. Pray, take it and enjoy.”

He gaped at the costly wine. “Thank you. I shall save this for a special occasion.”

The man smiled as he pried the tops from the crates. Richard dove into the packing, pulling out bottles and handing them to Mr. Gardiner. “My father would like a couple of bottles of this,” said his cousin, holding a bottle closer to a candle.

Darcy set the wine on a table and took a bottle of the brandy his cousin offered him. “I know the seal on this one. My father used to keep a supply of this before the war.”

After a waggle of his eyebrows and a crooked grin, his cousin pulled another bottle from the straw. “How many would you like?”

How many, indeed. Darcy set the bottles he wished to purchase to one side with the Constantia wine until they had emptied the contents of the crates. Then, Mr. Gardiner tasked a boy with packing Darcy’s order as well as Richard’s before they returned to the office upstairs. Before Mr. Gardiner could close the door behind him, a feminine hand wrapped around the edge.

“Uncle, my aunt sent me to ask when you would be home for dinner.”

Wait! He knew that voice. When the door opened, Miss Elizabeth Bennet stood in the doorway. Her cheeks were a bit pink, possibly from the chill of the day, and her celestial blue pelisse brought out the same colour flecks in her eyes. Of all the places in Cheapside, Richard had to bring him to Miss Elizabeth’s uncle?

Her eyes darted to him and widened. “Mr. Darcy?”

After they bowed, his cousin stepped forward. “Miss Elizabeth, I did not know you were in town, or else I would have called upon you. As I recall, you do enjoy walking in that small park just down the street.”

Darcy swallowed the “Hah!” that threatened to burst from his chest. He had been correct about her penchant for walking.

Elizabeth dipped her chin. “I do. How good of you to remember, Colonel.” Her eyes darted back to Darcy.

“I hope you and your family are well?” Darcy asked.

“They are well. I thank you.”

Mr. Gardiner grinned and clasped his hands before him. “I had wondered if you were the Mr. Darcy who lately visited Hertfordshire. I have heard much of you from my nieces—and my sister, Mrs. Bennet.”

He tore his eyes from Miss Elizabeth, then glanced at Richard, who grinned from ear to ear. “Yes, I met the Bennets while I stayed with my friend, Bingley.”

The man’s smile faltered just a hair before Miss Elizabeth turned back to his cousin. “How is your father, Colonel? Though it has been some time, I enjoyed making his acquaintance.”

Darcy almost swayed in his spot. Elizabeth Bennet had met his uncle. She appeared to know Richard. How had he been unaware of this?

“Colonel, Mr. Darcy, we would be pleased if you would join us for dinner? While Mr. Darcy has met my oldest niece, you have yet to do so,” said Mr. Gardiner, to his cousin. The man still wore a cheerful expression. Darcy’s mouth opened and closed. Why could he not speak?

“What do you say, Darcy? Or have you promised Georgiana you would join her?”

“She is with your mother. I am certain Lady Fitzwilliam will insist she remain until this evening.” His sister never arrived home early from a day at the Fitzwilliam’s. Their aunt and uncle always insisted on her joining them for their evening meal. Today was not likely to be different.

“Excellent!” His cousin slapped him on the back. “We shall be pleased to join you, Gardiner.”

Darcy suppressed the urge to squeeze his eyes closed. He departed Hertfordshire to escape the hold Miss Elizabeth held over him, but here she was standing before him. How could he spend an entire evening in her company? Richard would notice his unease. His cousin knew him too well to be fooled by those usual devices he employed to avoid a lady’s company.

And what of Miss Bennet? Richard would also learn that he lied when they saw her at the park. This was why he hated dissembling, but how could he have known? He grimaced. What a trial this evening would be!

[i] Constantia wine is from the Constantia valley near Cape Town in South Africa’s Cape Peninsula. Developed by Dutch settlers in the late 17^th century, the aromatic wine possessed an intense and lingering sweetness and was considered among the top dessert wines of the world. It was also “little produced,” which made it very expensive. So much so that it was usually purchased exclusively by the aristocracy and royalty of the world.

Sources: Fullerton, Susannah.   Contribution to Jane Austen’s Regency World Magazine.
Kelly, Pauline E.  Jane Austen Dictionary. Ink Well Publishing (2009)
Shapard, David M. (editor). The Annotated Sense and Sensibility. Anchor Books (2011)

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