Pride and Prejudice As it was in the Beginning

**As it was in the Beginning**

_A/N: This was one of the ideas swirling in my head. Feel free to R/R._

The setting sun was a painful reminder of the sadness that had descended upon Pemberley. The Dowager Lady Matlock sat watching the colours of the sky deepen with the oncoming twilight and with it a stillness spreading over the grounds. She had never known such sorrow as she did now, not even when her beloved Richard, the previous Earl of Matlock, had died.

Lady Matlock was in mourning for the loss of her youngest—and possibly favourite—child, Anne, the mistress of Pemberley. Lady Anne had been the light of her life since birth, as Lady Matlock had been told she would never be able to bear another child after her son was born. With a mischievous side that brought great consternation to her nannies, but such delight at the same time, Anne seemed anxious to experience life to the fullest with all due speed. She was curious to learn everything and—blessed with a great mind—she did, reading anything placed before her and consuming it voraciously. That she retained her playful side as she grew and transitioned into a dignified young lady which carried through when she was out in society, was a source of great pride to her mother.

It was easy to understand why Lady Anne was the object of many young men's affections, as well as a few not so young. But while showing warmth and civility toward all, she was determined only to marry for love, which came to her in the person of one Mr. George Darcy. A tutor at Cambridge when Anne's brother, the current Earl of Matlock, was a struggling first-year student, they had formed a close friendship during their sessions; it was natural that after two years of friendship, a visit to Matlock Manor would be required for his parents to show their appreciation to the young Mr. Darcy.

And that is how the great romance of the young Lady Anne Fitzwilliam and Mr. George Darcy had come to be. As George had said, "To see a beautiful creature such as Anne, even with her petticoats muddied after her adventures – I would have been a fool to let her get away." And so he didn't.

Though being a second son and not the heir of the great Pemberley estate, George Darcy was not without some means. His reputation as an academician was growing at university where he excelled in mathematics and could look forward to a respected academic future. It was not problematic that his father, Charles, was not averse to showing his admiration for his second son with financial rewards. The assurance that Lady Anne would bring a sizeable dowry to her marriage made the prospect of a bright—though not necessarily extravagant—future seem quite possible for the young couple, as soon as Anne attained her eighteenth birthday.

While that was fine for the younger sister, this was not exactly to the plan of the older sister, Lady Catherine. The eldest of the three siblings, she was determined to marry well and could not quite fathom why her younger sister would 'settle' for someone as low as a second son. Catherine would only marry for what was important; social position was everything – why marry if not to advance one's standing in the _ton _– and, if you must, the bank as well? It was fine for Anne if she was smitten with the scholarly George Darcy; Lady Catherine was sure she would marry much better. It was a shame, however, that George's elder brother, James had already formed an attachment, else Catherine was sure that she would no doubt be the next Mistress of Pemberley.

The Earl and Lady Matlock were quite impressed with the young Mr. Darcy. That he loved their daughter was more than evident, that he would provide for her was something he had carefully outlined to the Earl in private discussions, and that he treated her with all due tenderness and respect in public was very heart warming, indeed.

As had been agreed, at the celebration of Anne's eighteenth birthday, it was announced that she and George were engaged and would be married in two months' time, preparations already secretly taking place. For the youngest of the three to be marrying before the elder two was a source of some gossip in the _ton_, but to all appearances, neither of them showed anything but the greatest joy for the young Lady Anne.

Fate, however, has a way of changing even the most meticulous of plans. The express that came to Matlock Manor but a week after the engagement announcement brought great sorrow as well as drastic changes. The missive was from George Darcy; his elder brother James had suddenly fallen ill with a fever of unknown origin and had died after three days.

The words cut through Anne's heart. Never before had Lady Matlock remembered her youngest child in such anguish. Anne sobbed in her mother's arms, with her barely understood repeated lament, "My poor George" as the Earl continued reading.

"It seems," he cleared his throat, "that Mr. Darcy has asked that Anne be allowed to come to Pemberley, properly chaperoned." Anne, still whimpering, raised her head off her mother's shoulder and looked at her father. "Oh, papa, please," she sniffed, "I must go to him." She was imploring, "Please," with further effort, "He needs me."

The Earl's manner was gentle. "Yes, child, I know." His countenance betrayed his answer but he gave it nonetheless. "Of course; it would be cruel to keep you from him at this time." With that assurance, Anne flung herself in her father's arms with renewed tears, now mixed with gratefulness. "O thank you, papa."

A reply was sent by the same express that the three ladies would begin their journey the next morning with the Earl and his son setting off the day after.

The normally three-day journey to Pemberley was shortened to two rather lengthy days, their carriage passing the gates in the late afternoon. Anne was sitting next to her mother as they caught their first glimpse of the grand house. The gasp that escaped her lips barely conveyed her shock.

"Mama," she cried, grasping her mother's arm, "do you see it?" She asked in wonder.

The quiet smile on Lady Matlock's face held a sparkle to it. "I do believe it is hard not to, Anne," she said, her dry wit hiding her equally stunned impression.

Anne was still entranced with what she beheld as she continued her musings aloud. "Oh, Mama, this shall all be George's one day." She needed just moments for the idea to further foment in her head. Turning to face her mother, she cried in alarm, "Oh my," sounding suddenly fearful, "I shall be its mistress." Searching her mother's eyes, she asked, "Whatever shall I do?"

Lady Matlock patted her hand reassuringly, "Do not fret yourself, Anne. It will come to you." Anne turned back to looking out the window, continuing her wondering gaze at Pemberley. "You must prepare yourself now for what is important – being a comfort to Mr. Darcy."

The Dowager Lady Matlock smiled as she continued her silent reminiscing of their first sight of the spacious grounds of Pemberley. She had been proud of how Anne had conducted herself during their first visit; greeting relatives and friends of the Darcy family, offering solace, showing deference toward her beloved. Anne had learned quickly and shown herself to be a perfect lady.

As proud as she was of Anne, however, Catherine's behaviour during that time gave her much concern. Lady Catherine had been sure she would do better than her sister, but on that initial trip to Pemberley, she was struck that she would need to marry royalty to avoid being outdone by Anne. Although she had always been aware of Anne's ease in society, she had never really viewed her as a rival … until now.

Lady Matlock noticed Catherine making herself known among the mourners, particularly those who were marriageable heirs, or their families. It grieved her that her daughter was now making herself odious, going so far as to imply to one that the only reason George was marrying Anne was because she had turned him down. This had gone beyond the limits; Lady Matlock quietly took Catherine aside to counsel her on following decorum. Her daughter's haughty reply to her mother was that she was just being sociable, as Anne was. Predictably to all but Catherine, her efforts were fruitless.

Before their departure from Pemberley, the Fitzwilliams met with the Darcys to discuss the upcoming nuptials, by that time six weeks hence. Both the bride and groom requested no postponement of their ceremony, but a much smaller celebration than originally planned. And so it was done.

Fortunately for Catherine, her father and mother were quietly being industrious on her behalf. By the time Anne became Mrs. George Darcy, the announcement had been made of Catherine's engagement to Lord Lewis de Bourgh, an older widower whose wife had died leaving him no heirs. Though wealthy in his own right with a handsome estate in Kent, Catherine's dowry and good health made her more than acceptable to Lord Lewis; no great affection was deemed necessary by either party.

So it came to be that within a year's time, all three of the Fitzwilliam siblings had married, with the bride of the heir apparent already with child. It was unfortunate that Catherine and Anne both experienced difficulties conceiving and carrying to term. It was understandable, then, for the great rejoicing at Pemberley when, after four years of marriage, Anne was delivered of a robust boy, Fitzwilliam George Darcy.

The ordeal of producing an heir was even greater at Rosings. The longed-for heir, Edward Francis, was born two years after his cousin at Pemberley, but lived only days, adding to the continued stressful atmosphere. Thankfully, two years later, another child was born—this time a girl—Anne Charlotte. Though she survived the early days of infancy, her health was always a source of concern.

The Dowager Lady Matlock was thankful her beloved Richard had lived long enough to see his grandchildren before his death. He had delighted to see the future generations of Fitzwilliams and had enjoyed his visits to Rosings and especially Pemberley to see the fine young man his grandson Fitzwilliam was becoming.

While her husband's death had brought her great sadness, it was nothing compared to the grief she now felt. Anne had left behind the now-grieving George, a son on the brink of puberty, and a small daughter who would never know her mother.

She sat quietly on the balcony, reflecting on what the future would bring for the Darcy family and how she could bring them solace during their time of mourning, trying to ignore her own grief. A young voice roused her from her reflection, calling back into the room, "I have found her. Please inform the others."

Lady Matlock looked up to see young Fitzwilliam Darcy approaching her, assuming a formality in his countenance as he seemed to be trying to discern whether he should intrude on her privacy. Her face warmed into a welcoming smile as she extended her hand to him, which he took in both of his hands and kissed as he bowed.

"Was I the object of a great search, Fitzwilliam," she asked bemusedly.

"We were at a loss when you did not appear for tea, Grandmamma," he replied. "Are you well," he asked with concern evident in his voice and on his face. "Shall I have a tray brought to you here?"

With reassurance she answered him, "I shall be fine, Fitzwilliam. Perhaps what I am most in need of now is company, if you wouldn't mind," she gestured to the seat next to her. Not releasing her hand, he settled himself next to his grandmother, sitting in comfortable silence, both filled with their own thoughts, as they both now watched the setting sun.

"Where is Georgiana now, Fitzwilliam," Lady Matlock finally breaking the silence. "Is she still in the nursery?"

The young Master Darcy shifted slightly to make eye contact. "Aunt Catherine and Anne are with her presently, as well as her Miss Helen," he said, referring to the nanny. He dropped his head, trying to hide the tears now forming in his eyes. The thought that his mother was truly gone and his sister would not have the luxury he had of memories of her was overwhelming to him. Sensing his distress, his grandmother pulled him toward her and rested his head on her shoulder as the dam broke.

"Yes, Will, I know," she cooed, "it is not right; but we must be grateful for the time she was with us." She laid her head atop his and silently wept with him as his tears continued.

For several long minutes grandmother and grandson wept together and comforted each other with soft words and gentle caresses. When Fitzwilliam's crying was finally stilled, he took a deep breath before speaking.

"She was the most wonderful of mothers," he said, fully convinced. "No one was more lively, more loving than she." He felt his grandmother nod as he continued. "This house will be so empty with her not here." He took in another deep breath. "How we shall bear it, I know not." His voice sounded disconsolate.

Her voice threatening to break, Lady Matlock steeled herself before answering, "Fitzwilliam," she said, trying to sound firm, but not harsh, "'we mourn but not as those without hope'" she said, remembering the words of St. Paul. "I will miss your mother terribly, but she gave me two of the greatest gifts I could ever want: she gave me you and Georgiana." She said this gently lifting his face with both her hands and gazing down on him. "As long as I shall have you, I shall have hope." And she kissed his forehead before resettling his head on her shoulder.

They were quiet again for several minutes before either one spoke.

"Grandmamma, do you think Papa will marry again?" It was a question that shot daggers through her heart, for although she could not fault George for one day being able to love again and bringing another to be mother to his children and mistress of Pemberley, she would still be devoid of her beloved daughter, Anne.

"I do not know that, Fitzwilliam," she answered quietly. "But his heart will need to mend first and be open to loving again before he can consider it." They were quiet again as she reflected on the question. "What brought that question to mind?"

He shifted slightly. "I heard Aunt Catherine speaking with Cousin Anne. She said they would stay awhile after Mother's funeral and then come back with all their things. She said it would make it easier for them to be mistress here." He raised up to meet his grandmother's eyes. "She spoke as though she would marry Father and I would marry Anne as soon as we are of age." His face betrayed his worry. "Grandmamma, I don't love Anne as I should think a husband should love a wife; not the way Papa loved Mama."

Lady Matlock inwardly shivered at her grandson's revelation. How could Catherine be so callous, she wondered. Who else had she spoken to or may have overheard her insensitive remarks? Though Lord Lewis was barely six months dead, she was aware Catherine's personal grieving had completed in less than half that time.

She would speak to her daughter before the day was done and leave her with the clear understanding that she was to leave Pemberley the day following the funeral and leave the family to mourn without her interference. But now to set her grandson at ease.

"Fitzwilliam," she said with that same firmness as before, "it would grieve your mama, as well as your grandmamma," she smiled a slight smile that sparkled in her eyes, "if you do not marry for love." She saw the frown on his face fade into a slight grin at her words. "I could only be happy with your grandpapa, as your parents could only be happy with each other." She gazed into his eyes as though her look would further confirm her words. Her tone quieted as she continued, holding his face in her hands. "It is in your blood, my darling, to fall passionately in love. You may be aware at first sight, as your parents did, or you may not recognize it until you are well in the midst of it, as your grandfather and I, but know this: you will not be able to escape it."

She saw her words troubled the boy and immediately set to calm him. "But then, you will not want to escape it, if it is truly love" she added with a smile.

Fitzwilliam reached up and took one of his grandmother's hands and kissed it. "Thank you Grandmamma," he said quietly. "I shall not disappoint you."

They were again quiet with each other before she made to rise. Fitzwilliam quickly stood, still holding her hand and assisted her.

"Now," she said, assuming an air worthy of Admiral Lord Nelson at Trafalgar, "I shall speak with your Aunt Catherine. Do not fret yourself; she speaks idly at times." Fitzwilliam only quietly nodded.

With her hand on her grandson's arm, the two descended the stairs to have tea. Having shared their private grief together, they were now able to see to the needs of the rest of the family.

And Fitzwilliam Darcy never forgot the wisdom of his grandmamma.


End file.
