Prologue – Undoing

Hi everyone! I know I’ve posted the prologue before, but I have made one or two tweaks. Nothing major, but release is almost here! I hope you’ll join me for these chapters I’m posting before it goes live. It’s still being proofed, so hopefully, the chapter is clean! Let me know what you think in the comments!

Prologue

Monday September 28^th 1808

Elizabeth reached a shaky hand up to knock on the hard, wooden door of her father’s library. Her stomach roiled and twisted while she waited for her father’s usually comforting voice call for her to “enter.” What would he say? Would she have a choice in her future? This was a day that had certainly not ended the way she had planned.

Instead of soothing her, his call made her muscles stiffen further. She cracked the door, but rather than step through, she hesitated and peered inside before slipping into his sanctuary. Her lips curved at the sight of him comfortably seated in his usual pose behind his desk, his wire-rimmed spectacles perched upon the tip of his nose. How many times had she entered to find him thus? Too many times to count, if she gave it much thought. Perhaps the tumultuousness of the moment made his current situation surprising, though oddly soothing. Her palm pressed against her chest. Why would her hands not cease their incessant quaking?

“Aaah, Lizzy, I have been expecting you. I take it the duke has departed for London?”

“Yes, important business requires his immediate attention, but he indicated plans to return early next week.”

Her father nodded and held out a hand towards the chairs on the opposite side of his desk. “You have come to discuss his proposal, then?”

Nodding, she took the offered seat and firmly clasped her hands in front of her. Hopefully, they would stop that infernal trembling soon. Why had she let this situation discompose her in such a way? “I do not know what to do, Papa. I attempted to refuse as politely as I could, but he would not hear of it. He insisted I take a few days to consider my options. He even suggested I seek your counsel on the matter.”

Henry Bennet sighed, placed his book on the desk, and leaned forward on his forearms. His steady and intent gaze was a tell-tale sign—this would not be one of their more light-hearted discussions.

“You do know he discussed his proposal with me before he approached you.”

Elizabeth nodded, her hands clenched a little tighter, and she swallowed down a sting in the back of her throat. Lord, but she hated that feeling. “Yes. He indicated he had done so. He seemed certain you would sanction the match.”

After a quick bark of a laugh, her father shook his head. “I merely agreed to explain the particulars of the discussion between him and myself. I never suggested I would force your hand.” He peered over the rim of his glasses. “I will stand by your decision, regardless of your mother’s tirades—though, if she learns of it, she will never forgive you for refusing a duke.”

His prediction of her mother’s antics prompted an exaggerated roll of her eyes, though her trembling had lessened considerably. “I find him amiable and intelligent, Papa, I do. Yet, I do not possess the depth of feeling I deem necessary to justify a marriage.”

The slight crinkle around his eyes disappeared along with the slight curve of his lips, and she took a deep breath while she waited for him to speak. Would he speak favourably and press her to accept the proposal or would he simply recount the conversation? “Many marriages have no basis in emotion but are as a result of other factors. You are not so young to be completely naïve to those alliances.”

Elizabeth shook her head, still attempting to cease that slight infernal shaking of her knees. The duke’s proposal had been unexpected, to say the least. One day, he was a welcome visitor to the neighbourhood who became well-liked and respected for his open countenance and manner. This morning, he became an unwanted and unwelcome suitor. Elizabeth had no appreciation for being caught unawares. His confidence in her acceptance also unnerved and disturbed her a great deal.

Before she could respond to her father’s statement, he tapped his palm upon his book and stood to pace around the room. “As an exceedingly wealthy and titled man, he could have any woman he desired from the ton, any woman in possession of a significant fortune and superb connections, yet he has overlooked those women since he became of marriageable age. Instead, he wants you. Do you know why?”

“He claims to appreciate my intelligence and my lack of artifice.”

Her father gave a brief tilt to his head and lifted his eyebrows. “I cannot find fault with his judgment. He has indicated he cares little for your meagre portion and is prepared to offer you a generous settlement, as well as provide ten-thousand pounds to be settled upon Jane.”

Her eyebrows drew together. Only Jane? “I do not mean to sound ungrateful, but why not set aside portions for all of my sisters?”

“By London society’s standards, most ladies are not out until seventeen, which makes your younger sisters too young at this time. Instead, he intends to bestow money on each of your sisters upon their seventeenth birthdays in the hopes it might curb your mother’s desire to push them out at fifteen, as she did you.”

Her hand clenched upon the arm of the chair. She had hated being out at fifteen. She had not wanted to attend balls or attract a suitor. She wanted nothing more than to ramble about Longbourn and read the books in her father’s library.

Her mother’s intentions, however, were not the current issue at hand. Instead, the question lay in the motivation of the duke’s generosity. She shrugged, lifting her hands then dropping them into her lap. “I simply do not understand why he would go to so much trouble.”

“Our family is of little consequence to most of society. We have no great fortune, a small estate, and no relations of standing. His generosity provides some elevation to our status. Though he is the origin, his gifts give our family an appearance of affluence we lack and should help ease your way into society.”

She gave a faint huff. Why did it feel as though she were being purchased like a mare at auction? “A society I shall not join unless I agree to his scheme.”

His eyes twinkled with humour. “True, but he is trusting you will say yes.”

With a spring from her chair, she crossed to the window before turning in a swish of her skirts. “I enjoy a companionable friendship with him, but I maintain that I do not love him.”

Again, her father peered over his glasses. “Companionable friendship is more than most people possess in marriage, Lizzy. I thought I was in love with your mother, but in the end . . .” He paused and pressed his lips together.

Her eyes darted back to his face. “You never loved Mama?”

A long drawn out exhale escaped him. “I earnestly believed my heart was filled with her when I proposed, but I do believe upon reflection, that my feelings consisted of no more than a mere infatuation. Your mother was handsome and different than the other ladies.”

“How so?” she asked, stepping closer.

“Well, she was not the silly woman you know. She possessed a quieter, more demure manner. Your sister Jane oft times reminds me of your mother when we first met.”

An unladylike noise escaped her nose before she could stop it. Mama? Demure and quiet?

He sighed and removed his spectacles, rubbing a lens with his handkerchief almost absentmindedly. “After we married, I suppose she began to reveal her true nature. Not all at once, mind you, but gradually, over the next few years, she transformed into the woman I now take refuge from in this library.”

Surely, he did not mean . . .? “Are you saying I should marry him to avoid a life such as yours?”

“I am saying you should not reject him simply because your feelings do not extend beyond friendship. It could be a blessing your feelings do not run deeper. You will not suffer for it. You would have a husband worthy of your respect instead of one you revile.”

She glanced out of the window at the branches of a nearby apple tree swaying in the wind. The branches almost lumbered from side to side they were so laden with fruit.

A weight had appeared to press upon her shoulders, much like the descriptions she had read of the mythological Atlas. She shoved the tree from her mind and returned to the duke. How could she accept him? Yes, he was amiable, but her agreement would be in opposition to the ideals she had always hoped and held dear.

“Did you know he owns the great house at Stoke?”

Her head whipped around, her eyes wide. “I heard in the village he was leasing. Aunt Philips claimed Uncle Philips brokered the contract.”

“You should know better,” her father scolded. “Your aunt would claim she heard it from the queen herself if people would believe such tripe.”

Her lip curved upward on one side at the unfortunate yet accurate description of her mother’s sister. “So, her claims have no foundation in truth.”

“Not a one. Stoke has always belonged to the duke. He has let the place out in the past, but decided to inspect the property himself before allowing new tenants to take possession.”

“But what has this to do with his proposal of marriage?”

“He offered Stoke as your mother’s home when I am gone.”

Elizabeth pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “You would be gone, and I would be the one to receive her moaning and groaning about the impossibly small drawing rooms.” She shook her head with a lopsided smile. “No, thank you.”

Her father laughed as he sat in his chair. “You would not be in the neighbourhood to hear her complaints, and Derbyshire is too far for her to easily travel. You need not read her letters.”

“Oh, Papa,” she said, laughing. “I am certain to hear her lamentations from Hertfordshire. You do know how she likes to go on.”

He grinned and his eyes twinkled. “Yes, but she would no longer wail of Mr. Collins casting her into the streets upon my death.”

She blew out an exhale, shifting the pages of a ledger upon his desk. How weary she was of a topic she preferred to forget. “You believe I should accept his proposal?”

Mr. Bennet’s expression fell. Long discussions of her hopes and aspirations occurred often in this very room, yet the answer to her question was plainly written upon his face. “I do.” His eyebrows lifted. “But it is not my decision to make.”

A loud cacophony erupted outside of the door before it flew open to reveal a red-faced and dishevelled Mrs. Bennet.

“Elizabeth Amelia Bennet!  What did you do to drive the poor duke away?”

She closed her eyes as the sound ricocheted like a bullet from her skull down her spine. Marriage to the duke would have at least one positive aspect—escape from Francine Bennet.

“I promise to give it more consideration, Papa.”

He sighed and pinched his nose over his spectacles. “I am glad to hear it.”