Prologue, Part II: Star-Crossed Lovers

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"I would my father look'd but with my eyes."

1495

"I would rather be disowned by my father than have you dishonor yours. I will ask him."

That he had told his lady, his most beloved of all people, when the ecstacy of their engagement quieted in the corner of a ballroom. He had more courage then, full of youthful hopes and too much wine. Just a few days later, George Darcy wondered who that bold fool was that had proposed to his Anne. The man standing before Anne's father, Lord Fitzwilliam, was neither bold nor hopeful, but he could not be silent.

"Sir, I am here to beg your permission to marry your daughter, Anne."

"You wish to marry my daughter?" 

George's shoulders squared despite the grim emphasis. "Yes, sir." 

"And I suppose you have already asked her."

"It is the custom to ask the bride-"

"Perhaps it is your custom, Mr. Darcy, but it is not ours. I thought you knew your place in society, or I would have objected to the attention you have paid to my daughter these six months. Bad enough if your brother had come to me!"

"My brother may be my father's heir, but I love your daughter. There is nothing I would not do to give her everything she deserves."

"My daughter deserves a husband of wealth and importance - you can never give that to her. How like your kind to think a penniless Darcy is as good as a Fitzwilliam!"

George was angry; for Anne's sake, he would control his temper. "Sir, I may not have the same noble background as your daughter, but my family is long-established and of good reputation. I'm certain I will have great prospects in my career, and I do have a modest inheritance from my godfather. I assure you, I can provide for your daughter and our children."

"Children!" Lord Fitzwilliam roared. "My daughter was not born to be mother to the most junior branch of a family such as yours."

Once more, George's shoulders squared. The Darcys were often accused of being proud, and they were.  They were as rich as any noble family and had been granted their establishment many generations ago. In Verona, an establishment gave privilege and status to a family of exceptional wealth, character, and importance. As with noble titles, age mattered, and the Darcys had one of the best combinations of wealth and age. They had been among the families that forced the Governors to create the Second Act of Establishment. Still, until they were ennobled, no amount of wealth or power would make the nobility treat them with complete equality, and no new nobility could be created until a Duke was chosen. Until then, the Darcys would be stuck in a nouveau riche limbo that only bred resentment and attitudes like Lord Fitzwilliam's.

"Your daughter was born to live a good and happy life, and I will give that to her."

"How? Do you intend to live off of her dowry?"

"Your daughter will not miss her dowry if you choose to withhold it."

The conversation continued in this way. George strained to be reasonable, and Lord Fitzwilliam did everything to insult. Eventually, George was thrown out of his lordship's study and told to never so much as look at Lady Anne again. 

Lady Anne was told much the same when her father summoned her to his study. She was less reserved than her fiancé in expressing her displeasure. "You haven't cared a whit about either of your daughters since Mother gave you sons. You happily married Catherine off to that troll, Lewis de Bourgh! You don't like that I chose for myself!"

"It is your disobedience I dislike!" He left his daughter on the floor of his study to lick her own wounds. "If you wish to be a wife, so you shall be. Far be it from me to deny a child of mine what they deserve." 

If George had thought Lady Anne would be in danger, he would have pushed his way back into her house. Instead, he was facing a different battle, his second of the day. This one was in his own parlor, and with a familiar audience. George approached his father carefully. "Father, there is a young lady I wish to marry, and I would like your blessing and assistance."

"I had no idea of this, son. Who is the lady?"

"Lady Anne Fitzwilliam, sir."

Mr. Darcy closed his book and set it aside. He had considered Alexander, his namesake and heir, to be the troublesome son until this moment. "George, it's out of the question. Even if I gave you my blessing, and I don't, Lord Fitzwilliam will never give his consent. He is too proud to connect one of his daughters to our family."

"Yes, I know that now, but I thought-"

"You know that now?" Mr. Darcy's jaw dropped. "You've already asked him. You went crawling to him, didn't you?"

"I did not crawl, Father. I asked his permission, which he denied."

George's mother, Lettice, felt her heart breaking for her son. He had acted foolishly, and he would suffer for it. She could not help him.

"Good!" the elder Darcy yelled. "He's saved me the trouble."

"What trouble?"

"Do you think for one minute I would welcome such a girl into our family?

"You barely know Anne!"

"She is a Fitzwilliam, and that is enough. No daughter of that family would ever be content to be the wife of someone in your position! Do you think she would happily give up her velvets and silks to be the wife of a lawyer? She would make you, and the rest of us, miserable. I will not allow you to degrade yourself by marrying a girl who thinks she is above you and your family!"

"How would you know what she thinks?" George bellowed. "You've never spoken to her! She is a gentle, kind, and polite lady, and we love each other!"

"Ha!"

"You are just as proud and arrogant as Lord Fitzwilliam is! Both of you judge us on our families, and maybe you are right. Our fathers are two of the most arrogant, selfish men in all of Verona!" George turned on his heel and left the parlor, slamming the door in his wake. He refused to come down for dinner, and when the family had gone to bed, he dressed for the chilly autumn night and slipped out to see Lady Anne.

In one of Verona's many parks, there was a spot they had chosen for their own. They could sit for hours, hidden by large rocks, and enjoy the quiet and the company. It was during these meetings, not the stuffy rituals of a ballroom, that they realized they were soul mates. Both wanted a simple, comfortable family life with as many children as God would give them. Somehow, they told each other, they would achieve their dreams together.

He hoped she would be there. They never said when they were going to meet, it was simply understood. Occasionally, one misread the other, but usually they knew when they wanted to meet in the park. George couldn't think of a night when they would want to meet more than after they day they'd had.

His beloved was of a similar mind. After the encounter with her father, Lady Anne had gone to her room. She spent the dinner hour and a few more contemplating her situation and planning what could be done next. If her father was to be believed, she could be facing an unwanted marriage, like the one her elder sister was now suffering, quite soon. Something had to be done. She settled down by her bed to ask the only other man she trusted for advice.

"God, please help me convince my father to let us be married. I know I belong with George. I can't marry anyone else! He-" She silenced herself when she heard quiet footsteps in the hall. Lady Anne kept praying, but silently, knowing someone would be listening. She expected it to be her mother, who she knew would not linger at the door for long because she was uncomfortable with silence. (Lady Anne believed it was because silence meant a woman had to think for herself, something she had never seen her mother do.)

"You've outdone yourself this time, Anne."

"I love him, Mother. I don't care if he's not as rich as Father. He makes me happy. He treats me like I matter to him!"

"Anne, please. You're sixteen and you're having these feelings for the first time. You don't know what love is yet."

She frowned. "You're just like Father, treating me like a child."

"Dearest, you are a child. You do foolish things, you throw tantrums, and you leap before you look. George seems like a nice young man to you now, but he's never going to be a proper husband for you. Just imagine the kind of dowry your daughter will have with an income like his!" When Lady Fitzwilliam saw how she had upset her daughter, she softened a bit. She sat on the bench by the window and patted the seat next to her. "Anne, a good marriage requires more than these feelings you have. You aren't choosing someone to dance with or to sit with at dinner. A husband is your partner in life. He is your guardian, your provider, your advocate, and the father of your children. What he is, you become. George Darcy is destined for a different life than you are. He has to make his way through the world, and he needs a wife who can help him. You are sixteen, and you don't know those practical things. You're not meant for them."

"I can learn them," Lady Anne grumbled. "I can learn things. I can't learn to love someone."

"Yes, darling, you can. You will. We all do."

"If I can't marry George, I won't marry anyone."

Seeing the conversation was going nowhere, Lady Fitzwilliam kissed her daughter's head and left her. She was completely unaware of her daughter's plans for the rest of the night.

Arriving at the park, George was happy when he saw his beloved nestled into the rocks, but only for a moment. As he approached, he saw the fresh abrasion on her face. He knew what kind of hand - more accurately, what kind of ring - made such a mark on a cheek. What a fool he had been to trust Lord Fitzwilliam's temper! "Oh, Anne! I'll wring his neck with my own hands. I shouldn't have left you."

"It is not the first time, my love." Lady Anne's blue eyes fluttered open, and she smiled at her poor George. "But we can make it the last."

He laughed. "If you are asking me to kill your father, I will do it."

She shook her head. "A noble idea, but I like your head as it is, attached to your neck. I was thinking of your other offer."

His eyes shot open. "You want to elope?"

"You said you would take me away, if I wanted to go. I want to go, George."

"Anne, I promise you, I will make our families see reason. We will be married and raise our children here, and we will be happy."

She gestured toward a bag she had laid against the rocks. "I am serious, my love. I don't want to wait for my father and yours to grow a heart. I don't want to be old and gray before I'm a bride! We can start a life somewhere else, somewhere better than here, where we aren't Darcys or Fitzwilliams - just George and Anne."

"You are the dearest creature, Anne, and I love you." He kissed her hand. "If this is what you want, we will go, but there is no coming back. I will gladly give up my family for you, but if you will resent me for denying you yours, I would rather wait a thousand years. Make me do nothing that will make you resent me, my dearest Anne."

She flew into his arms. "Will you really take me away tonight?"

"Only if you have brought something for my troubles with that little bag of yours," he teased.

"What shall I give you, sir?"

"You know my price." This would be the most irresponsible, selfish thing George had ever done. He was running off with a sixteen year-old girl and taking her far, far abroad to be his wife. Neither family would know what became of them for months, if ever. But for Anne, for sweet, idealistic Anne, George would throw away every good lesson he learned. If running away with his beloved was a crime, he would rather hang than live without her. She was every goodness, every hope in the world, like a lone flower in the tangled mess of a jungle they called Verona. And she would be his.

Next post: "Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd, doth burn the heart to cinders where it is."