Jump to new as of September 26, 1999
Prologue
There is no land uninhabitable or sea unnavigable
The year of his grace 1386.
Lady Elizabeth de Bennet inhaled the sweet August air. Near her, in the in the pre-dawn dark, men were stirring. Her father and his officers, booted and coated, with glimmering insignia and a tinkling noise of clinking weaponry, were waking the crew one by one.
In half an hour, the crew was awake and somewhat alert, listening to the last, customary speech of the captain before the voyage. Sir Thomas de Bennet was an able speaker and men listened to him without murmuring. Or maybe it was the guard that reinforced their willingness and obedience, Elizabeth wondered cynically.
Looking at her father, his short squat frame, legs akimbo, voice haranguing, Elizabeth felt pride. It was not every man who could undertake the long dangerous voyage to Sweden. And certainly, no one but her father would even think of doing it in late August. And she was to go with him, she thought exited. Not all her cajoling in the past could make him relent in the slightest about his rule of no women, and certainly, no women of his family, on his voyages. To be honest, his wife and younger daughters were not interested. ( by a quirk of fate, Sir Thomas' one and only son showed no interest in the sea.) Edmund used to joke that there was so much passion in his father that the family certainly could not afford another sea-crazed family member. One enthusiast in the family was wonderful. Two of them made people think there was something wrong with the family. Edmund....Elizabeth shook her head angrily. Edmund was dead and nothing was going to bring him back. Nothing.
And Edmund, bright, witty and careless, was the reason they were sailing to Sweden, the reason she was to embark on the voyage with her father; Edmund, and Henry Tudor.
The de Bennet family was strongly Yorkist. Sir Thomas was not at Bosworth to defend the rightful king, being seriously indisposed at the moment. But Edmund was. And when Richard III was defeated, he was among the many captured by the exulting troops of Welsh Henry Tudor. Captured, summarily tried and executed. No man who was part of Richard's mad charge to cut down Henry himself was going to get away with it. The family heard it, mourning. All these months later, Elizabeth could still hear her mother's shrill wails across the house. Lady de Bennet was not the one to believe in discretion or understanding. The marriage between her parents, never happy, and in these days, it was nightmarish. Sir Thomas expected summons' daily, but when they came, they were not for a trial or execution, but to a secret meeting with the new king. The family was not to be bothered. The reason for the unusual clemency became soon apparent: Sir Thomas was to sail on Saint Mary to Sweden, to steer a delegation handpicked by the king. Henry would have gladly executed Sir Thomas and attainted the family, but he needed him. No other navigator was bold enough, skilled enough, or desperate enough to attempt to sail in the fall. And Elizabeth? She was going because life at de Bennet's had become insupportable, because her father was too tired these days to argue any more, because with the death of Edmund he needed somebody to pass his love of the sea to. And because of Lord Hale, their neighbour, a bluff and staunch Lancastrian, whose designs on her were becoming more apparent with each day that Henry Tudor felt more secure on the throne.
Her father was still speaking and she forced her mind back to the present. She was to have her adventure. But somehow she did not feel jubilant at the thought.
A short time before the departure, the heralded delegation finally deigned to appear on the dock. All staunch Lancastrian nobles, may they rot thought Elizabeth viciously. Well, rotting might be impracticable, but they could, with luck, get scurvy she thought hopefully. Her father was introducing the men to her and the officers and she nodded and smiled meaninglessly. Finally, it was the turn of the leader of the delegation. The tall, unsmiling man in sober clothes, but with a great big ruby chain glittering on his breast approached her, and Elizabeth's heart gave a bound of recognition. "Lord Fitzwilliam Darcy," presented him her father. He bowed, his eyes empty. By now, well in control of her feelings, Lady Elizabeth curtsied coldly, but her brain was seething. It could not be. Of all the tricks, thought of by God or Man, she thought angrily, she was to share a ship with Lord Fitzwilliam Darcy!
Chapter 1
After the dark night, the mirthful morrow
October 1384
The heat of the fire scorched the back of Elizabeth's gown and she fidgeted. It was perhaps to early to light the fire in the great hall, but Lady De Bennet was always overcautious of anything involving her health, so the fires had been lit a week previously. It did not matter that it was mild, Lady Bennet firmly reiterated it was October, and her constitution was too delicate to subject to risk.
So this evening it was intolerably stuffy. The body heat of the people the de Bennets has invited for the formal betrothal of their eldest daughter Jane made the room so insupportable that Elizabeth decided to quit the room in favor of the relative coolness and privacy of the lawns. She wondered aimlessly until she found an apparently deserted corner of the garden and sat down with a grateful sigh. Her thoughts drifted pleasantly and inconsequentially, but not for long. She became aware of a strange creeping noise in the undergrowth. It sounded as if someone got permanently lost in their maze and decided to cross cut through the bushes. Drunk, probably she thought, amused.
"Owwww!" exclaimed an indignant male voice, and followed it up with expressions of less mildness. A second later a slightly dischevelled young man climbed out of the underbrush. Elizabeth had the impression of dark hair, height and a pair of startled eyes. Oh, and rather appalling good looks. The man, quite fashionably-dressed, was holding a child's playing ball in one hand, she noticed, slightly dazed. The stranger's reaction to discovering a lady blocking his escape route was slightly reminiscent of a startled rabbit. He froze and she fancied she could see him blush even in the dark. Giggles threatened to bubble up inside her but she held on to her grave impression with all her power, the poor man was embarrassed enough. They stared at each other for a second, then stranger bowed to her, somewhat jerkily, and was gone, still clutching the ball. Elizabeth sat down and finally let her laughter escape her.
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A few hours later, the party was at its peak and Elizabeth was flushed not from the fire but from the dancing. Partners had never been scarce and she felt slightly out of breath. Thankfully she espied her brother heading towards her and escaped Sir John Twitters who, charmed by her manners, her beauty and her money was being most determined to solicit her for a dance.
"Hello, Liz," grinned Edmund at her. The party was making him happy as well. Maybe a trifle overhappy, thought Lizzy judiciously, looking at his slightly shaking glass. "May I present Lord Darcy to you. I pointed you out and he's been talking about meeting you most particularly, for some strange reason."
Elizabeth turned to his companion and saw the dark-haired stranger, minus the ball, stare at her, smiling. "My pleasure," murmured she faintly.
She did not know how, but a few minutes later Darcy managed to detach her and himself from Edmund's somewhat erratic care. A few minutes later they were in the gardens. "You must have thought me a complete idiot," he started wryly. He was quite surprisingly sober.
-"I did think, sir," replied Lizzy demurely, "that you were somewhat old to be playing with a ball. Even a bright red one."
One corner of his mouth twitched up at that. "Well, it was my sister's. Lady Georgiana. It's her favorite possession. She lost it earlier, and I was not about to let her outside in the gardens after dark, by herself."
"So you volunteered? I see...And how old is Lady Georgiana?"
"Ten," he confessed somewhat sheepishly.
"Good heavens! She certainly shouldn't be here." He was fairly young, too young to be the Earl of Darcy, so guessing at random, she blurted: "didn't your parents think she should be kept in bed?"
She closed her mouth aghast, but it was too late. Where are your manners, Lizzy!! Somehow he made her feel off-balance.
He did not seem offended, merely amused. "No doubt they would think so, if they were present. However, they are deceased and I am my sister's guardian."
"Oh My God!" she exclaimed startled. "I beg your pardon!...I am sorry, I had no idea....umm, you are too young!"
"Well, I've been insulted worse in my life, don't worry. Err, too young for what?"
"To be the Earl. The famous Earl of Darcy " she parodied her father's gruff tones. "You know, the Darcy of Barnet and Tewkesbury*. Knight of the Garter, King Richard's friend. You have to know what they say about you!"
Heavens, the man actually blushed! "Well, I assure you, the stories have been exagerated. Very exagerated."
"What, no dragons or maidens in distress?" she asked with mock dissapointment.
"Lady Elizabeth, you have my solemn assurance I have never yet slain a dragon or defeated a dozen men single-handed. As to damsels...." He paused, choosing his words carefully, "a few hours ago, I would have said I had no interest in one." He looked, somewhat shyly, into her eyes and Elizabeth caught her breath.
The stillness between them was tangible, fragile, and broken all too soon. Edmund's cheery voice broke though it. "Elizabeth, have you seen Lord Darcy? Father is looking for him."
Reluctantly, the Earl bowed in farewell. "Will you allow me to call on you?"
Dizzily, Elizabeth, nodded her accent.
*Barnet and Tewekesbury were famous battles during the war of the Roses won by the Yorkists