Page 1 of Until My Last Breath

Chapter 1

3rd April 1812

Darcy put his quill down; his fingers drifted over the large ledger in front of him, closing it. His attempt to concentrate on his work was again frustrated by thoughts beyond his control.

“I cannot continue like that…” he whispered, looking down at his desk. The pile of papers and letters had only grown in the last few days.

There was a knock on the door.

“Excuse me, sir,” the butler said, entering his master’s study. “Your coffee, as requested.” Resting the tray on a side table, Osmond poured the fragrant infusion into a cup, added some milk and handed it to his master.

“Thank you, Osmond,” Darcy said, sipping from the cup, closing his eyes. At least his coffee was as it should be. The strong beverage was one of the few things helping him to continue with his work.

“I believe we have everything I need for my trip tomorrow?”

“Yes, sir. Everything is ready. You can leave at first light as requested.”

“Excellent, Osmond. Thank you again. That will be all.”

Darcy stood up and went to the window. The persistent rain of the last few days had left the streets of London empty; not even the crows had ventured out today. It was as if the quietude of the day was mocking his inability to work, forcing him to admit the real cause for it.

He should take some holidays and forget about estate responsibilities.

Darcy rubbed his forehead. The last thing he was going to do for the next two weeks was that. His aunt’s ledgers and tenants were always a steady source of headaches.

At least a change in scenery and Richard’s company should be enough to distract him from this inept state of mind.

He returned to the coffee pot and poured another cup.

How things had changed in his life in the last months.

Indeed, he no longer was the man he used to be — not after spending time in Meryton, where he had met the most intriguing and unsuitable of ladies. Not only her family was vulgar and inadequate for polite society, but she, Elizabeth Bennet, had dared to question his honour regarding that scoundrel Wickham. The mere memory of the Netherfield ball, and her angry eyes glaring at him were enough to make his blood boil.

He was Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley! Nobody questioned his honour!

With no control over them, Darcy’s memories dragged him again to Meryton, and the day after the ball — the last time he had seen her. Once again, he repeated to himself that their hasty departure had nothing to do with his infatuation for that lady. It had been just a genuine and selfish desire to support Bingley in his decision to leave the area.

Nothing more.

Yes, he had done that for Bingley.

While in Netherfield, Darcy thought that perhaps this time his friend had found someone who had truly touched his heart. Bingley seemed genuinely taken by the elder Bennet sister. But nothing had come of it. Darcy could not avoid worrying for his friend. It had been a trait in Bingley’s character to, first, frequently fall in and out of love, and, second, give too much consideration to his sisters’ opinions — especially those regarding their prospects in life. Darcy had tried to help his friend, encouraging him to stand for his decisions without interference from his sisters. But after a couple of days in London, Bingley had decided to give up Netherfield’s lease.

Miss Jane Bennet’s serene and pleasant countenance also came to his mind. She seemed pleased to receive Bingley’s attentions. And why would she not? Bingley, after all, despite his… well, non-confident, fickle nature, was a good catch. Was he not?

The thought brought a scowl to Darcy’s face.

Perhaps not. Bingley was still too immature to be married; and she, too kind and too sweet. Bingley and Miss Bennet would never match.

Perhaps it had been for the best.

But if Miss Bennet had indeed developed any attachment to his friend — as Darcy suspected to be the case — Miss Elizabeth would not be happy. She adored her sister.

Darcy exhaled loudly. He poured himself another cup of coffee, but to his disappointment, the liquid was already lukewarm. He put the cup down and went back to the window.

If he was to be honest, he remembered that time in Meryton as one of the most exciting in his life. He had travelled through the Continent a couple of times, seeing amazing places and meeting all kinds of people. Nevertheless, there was nobody quite like her. She was intriguing, challenging, handsome. Her fine eyes, her lips…

He growled and quickly opened the window, allowing the fresh breeze of the morning to hit his flushed body.

---