Earning Darcy's Trust Read online

  Earning Darcy’s Trust

  A Pride & Prejudice Variation

  Jennifer Joy

  “Earning Darcy’s Trust: A Pride & Prejudice Variation”

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems — except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews — without permission in writing from its publisher, Jennifer Joy.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, locations, and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Jennifer Joy

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  Twitter: @JenJoywrites

  Email: [email protected]

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  Copyright © 2015 Jennifer Joy

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9962310-3-9

  For Mom— Your pioneering spirit has inspired me so many times and in so many ways. Thank you.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Thank you!

  About the Author

  Other Books by Jennifer Joy

  Bonus Material

  Prologue

  Pemberley, 1800

  Father’s booming voice jolted Darcy awake. “Wake him up, boys! Get him!”

  Darcy pulled the covers over his tousled head, but it was too late.

  Two cold, wet noses fought their way through the blankets and bathed his face with their slobbery tongues.

  He groaned, wishing he could spend just five more minutes in delicious slumber.

  “Bounce! Stubbs! Get off me!” Darcy put his arms over his face and tried to roll over.

  Bounce, always true to his name, had pounced on top of the bed, pinning Darcy down and poking his face down and through the sheets. Stubbs sat on the floor with his nose by the pillow, sniffing his hair and waiting for more exposed skin to lick.

  “Some hunters you are.” Giving up the fight, Darcy put his arms down and opened his eyes to see two happy dog faces looking at him. Stubbs licked Darcy’s cheek, his stumpy tail thumping against the floor; Bounce nudged his nose under Darcy’s hand.

  His father, George Darcy, stood over his bed with a grin on his face. “A fine way to wake up, is it not?”

  Darcy glared at him. “There are nicer ways.”

  “Well, I could not very well poke you with a stick, could I? Take care to cheer up before you see your mother. Georgiana kept her up most of the night.” He slapped the side of his leg, and the dogs hurried over to sit at his feet.

  “Why does Mother not let the nurse take care of Georgie so she can get some sleep? It is her job after all.” Darcy flopped his long legs over the side of the bed and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

  Father clucked his tongue. “You know your mother better than that.”

  Darcy nodded. It was a foolish question. His mother, Lady Anne, preferred to oversee the upbringing of her own children rather than charge a nurse and nanny with their care. She had done so for Darcy, and she showed the same attentive concern to Georgiana. How many times had she leaned down to kiss his bruises when he was a small boy? Now, she had to stand on her tip toes just to reach his chin.

  Georgie was afraid of the monsters in her armoire, and it was not a rare thing to see Mother cradling the four year old in her nursery in the wee hours of the morning.

  Darcy could not remain cross as he thought of his dear mother. “Everyone should have a mother such as ours. I spoke out of turn. I apologize.”

  Father sighed. “A cup of good, strong tea will put you right.” He left, the soft padding of his conspirators’ paws pounding against the carpet on their way down the hall.

  Darcy’s valet, Giles, readied his riding outfit. The effort he made not to smile was more conspicuous than if he had laughed out loud. Darcy pretended not to notice. Instead, he attempted to think of some redeeming quality of the early morning. His mind drew a blank.

  Miles assisted Darcy into his coat. “I shall suggest that another coat be made. You will outgrow this one soon.”

  Darcy stretched his arms out in front of him. The fabric strained across his back and the sleeves barely covered his shirt cuffs. The happy thought that perhaps his shoulders were widening occurred to him. He had been growing straight up all summer and he hoped to add some width to his frame soon. He felt rather like one of the poles which held up the bean plants in the garden.

  “I do believe you are broader through the shoulders, sir.”

  Darcy’s mood lightened. “You read my mind, Giles. How do you do it?” He looked at the man who brushed the sleeves of his coat, still repressing a grin. He had been injured in the army five years before, and Father had hired him to serve as his valet after his recovery. Giles walked with a limp, but he never fell behind or failed to fulfill his duties. Darcy liked him because he always seemed to know what Darcy was thinking, thus reducing his need to speak when he was not so inclined.

  “Perhaps it is because only ten years have passed since I was your age, sir. I believe every young man of sixteen years thinks similar thoughts.” He allowed himself to smile and continued brushing. “There, now you are presentable.”

  With a nod of thanks to Giles, Darcy headed downstairs.

  A sideboard loaded with dishes awaited him in the breakfast room. Steam curled out from under the lids, and his stomach growled when the aroma of cinnamon and stewed apples hit him. But first things first. His mother sat at the table. He went to her and kissed her cheek before allowing himself to look at the food any more than he already had.

  “Good morning, William. I trust you slept well. You do seem taller today.” She caressed his cheek with her hand as she had done since Darcy could remember.

  He had hoped she would say ‘filled out,’ ‘muscular,’ ‘thicker about the chest’…. He shrugged his bony shoulders and sighed while she poured him a cup of tea. Father, who sat quietly at the head of the table, passed her the sugar, and she added precisely one level teaspoon before stirring.

  Father stood up in front of him and clapped his shoulders, squeezing the flesh and bones. “I do believe you are wider here. You will fit my dinner jackets before the next Michaelmas term. Now, fill that bottomless pit. We have a busy morning planned.” Father ordered the horses to be readied and went outside.

  Darcy tried to hide the rejoicing he felt at his father’s compliment. He turned to the sideboard and heaped his plate with food before Mother noticed how pleased he was. It was not that he had ever had success concealing anything from her before, but it was worth a try.

  He turned back to sit at the table and saw the corners of her mouth upturned. Clearing her throat, she took a sip of tea. She had noticed.

  His stomach growled, demanding immediate attention. He had to remind himself to slow down and chew his food properly. Mother appreciated good manners at the table, and Darcy
did his best to live up to her expectations of a gentleman. Still, he polished his plate in a matter of minutes.

  Grabbing two apples, one for him and one for his horse, Darcy kissed his mother farewell and went outside. Father mounted as soon as he saw him. Darcy’s horse, knowing his rider concealed a treat in his coat pocket, nudged his side and whinnied. Touching the soft velvet of his stallion’s muzzle, Darcy chuckled as he reached for the tempting fruit. He looked to make sure the groom was not observing before he held the juicy apple out to his insistent friend.

  “Come on, William. I want to visit the Digby farm today. Mr. Digby’s family will have a hard time of it with him gone. We need to see if their roof can make it through another winter. We will cut through the forest.”

  Darcy mounted his horse and the crunching of the gravel drive soon gave way to the pounding of hooves on the soft grass leading away from the main house. In the distance, over a rolling hill, was the patch of shaded forest which would lead them directly to the Digby’s farm.

  “He should have thought more of his family before wasting his wages on drink. I do not understand why you are so kind to his kin when they have been nothing but trouble.”

  “Ted Digby was a bitter man and sought to justify his poor behavior by blaming others.”

  “Mostly you.”

  “Yes, mostly me. It comes with our position, William. Many will resent you because you have been born to wealth and privilege. It is envy and greed which makes men do things they would otherwise never do.”

  He looked like he might say more, so Darcy waited… and waited. But, Father remained silent.

  Darcy enjoyed the time he spent with Father learning firsthand how to manage the property and its tenants. Pemberley Estate ran smoothly under his diligent care; it was an example Darcy sought to imitate.

  The sun peeked through the branches and warmed Darcy’s face from the chill of the shade as they entered the forest. Gold leaves padded the path, and the only sounds heard were the rustling of the trees and their own conversation as they rode onward. The breeze, stiff with the first breaths of autumn, ruffled the hair curling down Darcy’s neck. Everything about the day was peaceful.

  A loud crack pierced through the air. Darcy struggled to control his mount. He looked to Father and time slowed to a crawl. Father slouched over his saddle, clutching his side. Darcy heard the sounds of his own shouts, but the drumming inside his ears was louder. Slipping one foot out of the stirrup, he watched in horror as his father landed with a thud on the ground.

  Flinging his leg over to dismount, a covey of quail flew up from under his horse’s feet. Darcy gripped the reins and laced his fingers through the mane, ready for his mount to rear back. When the horse shied off to the side instead, Darcy was unprepared. Only half mounted, he lost his balance and his consciousness.

  Longbourn, 1800

  2 weeks later

  Elizabeth Bennet covered her ears and dangled her feet from the over-sized chair in their cluttered sitting room. If she slumped ever so slightly, her shoes could touch the floor. But her mother, Mrs. Bennet, would notice her poor posture, and her latest fit of nerves would be blamed on her unladylike daughter. Elizabeth preferred not to draw such unwanted attention, so she sat quietly with her hands over her ears, dangling her feet.

  The source of Mother’s newest tirade stood with his hands clasped in front of him, calmly listening to his wife’s rant. Father would do anything to maintain peace in his household— which usually meant that Mother got her way in a discord.

  “I do not understand how you intend for our girls to catch a desirable husband when you fill their heads full of books. They need to practice more ladylike pursuits. I am certain that is why the Allens left. The only family of fortune in Hertfordshire— and with four sons at that— who could have married our daughters.” She threw her hands up toward the ceiling at the injustice of it all. “Four boys gone, Mr. Bennet.”

  Elizabeth was glad they were gone. The Allens were much too pompous for her taste. Mrs. Allen thought females should spend all day indoors learning needlework and good posture. Elizabeth slouched ever so slightly in her chair.

  “My daughters shall be knowledgeable. If the young men they attract cannot understand their conversation, then they are unworthy of them.” He slowly folded his arms in front of his chest and looked at Mother over his spectacles. “With our eldest daughter a mere ten years old, I do not understand your worry about her or our other younger daughters marrying. There is plenty of time.”

  Mother went from balling her hands into fists on her hips and tapping her foot to fanning her face, an attack of nerves ensuing. Father never triumphed over Mother’s nerves. They were his undoing.

  “It lies with Jane to marry well, Mr. Bennet. Do not forget for a moment that we have five daughters to marry and I am determined that one of them shall make an advantageous match. Jane is a beauty and will meet with success if you do not fill her head with fluff.”

  “It is hardly fluff, dear. Besides, it is not at all likely that the Allens left Hertfordshire merely because of our daughters’ intelligence. If they did, then they are more foolish than I believed them to be, and I will gladly wave farewell from a safe distance as they drive by. I will blow mighty breaths at the back of their carriage to speed along their journey.” Elizabeth tried not to giggle. She would stand by Father and help.

  “It is fluff for a young lady. She needs to devote more time to her instrument and her needlework. Those are the accomplishments a wealthy young man looks for. Thanks to you, our daughters have no prospects with the Allens gone.”

  Father looked at Jane and Elizabeth, who still grinned at the image of Father blowing on the Allens’ carriage. “I know you are probably right, my love. I just want better for my girls, that is all.” His shoulders slumped and he prepared for his defeat.

  He locked eyes with Elizabeth and she smiled back at him. She knew she was his favorite. She and Jane both.

  A loud crash sounded in the direction of the kitchen, and Elizabeth heard her youngest sisters giggling. Lydia was only three years old and with the help of Kitty, who was slightly taller and much more stable on her feet at five years of age, would climb anything if left unattended. Elizabeth figured it was a good time to go outside.

  She signaled Jane. As Mother ran shrieking to the kitchen and Father retreated to the quiet of his study, Elizabeth and Jane crept outside to the barn. It was cold and raining, but they could play in the hay and cuddle the kittens in the stable.

  They held hands as they ran across the yard and over to the barn, dodging puddles and avoiding the squishy mud.

  The barn was not warm, but it was dry. They shook off their wraps and searched for the kittens, which were easily found.

  Sitting at the edge of the hay, caressing their soft fur, Jane asked, “Do you think we shall marry good gentlemen, Lizzy?”

  Elizabeth would rather talk about anything else. She wanted more out of her life than a marriage. She wanted adventure. So far, her eight years had been rather dull.

  “I am certain you shall. You are very pretty. Mama always says: ‘She cannot be that good-looking for nothing.’ I think she is right.”

  Jane bit her lips at Elizabeth’s imitation of Mother. She was too polite to laugh aloud, unlike Elizabeth who enjoyed laughter too much to suppress it. There were times when Elizabeth wished she could be as contented as Jane.

  Feeling rebellious, Elizabeth scattered the kittens and walked away from the hay pile. She motioned for Jane to give her room. She looked around to make sure nobody was watching, then ran toward the hay, jumping into the highest part of the heap.

  “Ouch!” she yelped as she landed against something hard. Something that was moving.

  She and Jane jumped off the pile and scurried to a safer distance. Elizabeth, not knowing what to do, grabbed a pitchfork and pointed it at the moving hay.

  “Get behind me, Janey,” she ordered, never taking her eyes off the offending hay.

&
nbsp; Whatever it was found its feet and stood. It alternated between brushing fodder away and rubbing the top of its head. It had a freckled nose. It was a boy.

  Elizabeth lowered the pitchfork, but kept her grip tight. She had never seen this boy before. He was dirty and dreadfully thin. He looked to be her age.

  “Who are you? What are you doing in our barn?” she demanded.

  Jane stepped out from behind Elizabeth. “Lizzy, where are your manners?”

  Elizabeth gasped at her sister. “How am I to show manners when he has invaded our barn? He looks like a pirate to me.” Turning to the boy, she asked, “Are you a pirate?”

  “You are only scaring him. What he needs is some kindness. Now, boy, please do tell us how you came to be in our barn. Do you have family nearby?”

  The boy stood rigidly in front of them. With the hay brushed off, Elizabeth could see the extent of his filth. He could not have washed in weeks. His odor reached her, though she stood the distance of the pitchfork away.

  “Lizzy, put that down! Does he appear dangerous to you?”

  Feeling sheepish at Jane’s rebuke, Elizabeth set the weapon down on the ground. However, she made sure it was still within reach should she need it. Jane was much too trusting.

  The boy raised his hands in front of him. “I mean no harm. I was cold and saw your barn, so I slept here. I will leave now.” The boy stepped to leave, but the kittens were purring and rubbing against his legs and his progress was slow.

  “They seem to like you,” said Elizabeth.

  “They kept me warm,” he said with a shrug.