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  With Love’s Light Wings

  Jann Rowland

  By Jann Rowland

  Published by One Good Sonnet Publishing:

  Pride and Prejudice Adaptations

  Acting on Faith

  A Life from the Ashes (Sequel to Acting on Faith)

  Open Your Eyes

  Implacable Resentment

  An Unlikely Friendship

  Bound by Love

  Cassandra

  Obsession

  Shadows Over Longbourn

  The Mistress of Longbourn

  My Brother’s Keeper

  Coincidence

  The Angel of Longbourn

  Chaos Comes to Kent

  In the Wilds of Derbyshire

  The Companion

  The Angel of Longbourn

  Chaos Comes to Kent

  In the Wilds of Derbyshire

  The Companion

  Out of Obscurity

  What Comes Between Cousins

  A Tale of Two Courtships

  Murder at Netherfield

  Whispers of the Heart

  A Gift for Elizabeth

  Mr. Bennet Takes Charge

  The Impulse of the Moment

  The Challenge of Entail

  A Matchmaking Mother

  Another Proposal

  With Love’s Light Wings

  Courage Always Rises: The Bennet Saga

  The Heir’s Disgrace

  Pride and Prejudice Adaptations

  Co-Authored with Lelia Eye

  Waiting for an Echo

  Waiting for an Echo Volume One: Words in the Darkness

  Waiting for an Echo Volume Two: Echoes at Dawn

  Waiting for an Echo Two Volume Set

  A Summer in Brighton

  A Bevy of Suitors

  Pride and Prejudice Short Story Anthologies

  Love and Laughter: A Pride and Prejudice Short Stories Anthology

  Mistletoe and Mischief: A Pride and Prejudice Christmas Anthology

  The Earth and Sky Trilogy

  Co-Authored with Lelia Eye

  On Wings of Air

  On Lonely Paths

  On Tides of Fate*

  *Forthcoming

  This is a work of fiction, based on the works of Jane Austen. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are products of Jane Austen’s original novel, the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.

  WITH LOVE’S LIGHT WINGS

  Copyright © 2019 Jann Rowland

  Cover Design by Jann Rowland

  Published by One Good Sonnet Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1989212182

  ISBN-13: 9781989212189

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, digital, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  To my family who have, as always, shown

  their unconditional love and encouragement.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Chapter III

  Chapter IV

  Chapter V

  Chapter VI

  Chapter VII

  Chapter VIII

  Chapter IX

  Chapter X

  Chapter XI

  Chapter XII

  Chapter XIII

  Chapter XIV

  Chapter XV

  Chapter XVI

  Chapter XVII

  Chapter XVIII

  Chapter XIX

  Chapter XX

  Chapter XXI

  Chapter XXII

  Chapter XXIII

  Chapter XXIV

  Chapter XXV

  Chapter XXVI

  Chapter XXVII

  Chapter XXVIII

  Chapter XXIX

  Chapter XXX

  Chapter XXXI

  Chapter XXXII

  Chapter XXXIII

  Chapter XXXIV

  Epilogue

  For Readers Who Liked With Love’s Light Wings

  About the Author

  Chapter I

  Pemberley, in Derbyshire, was a tranquil estate. Situated in a long valley, its fields were fertile and eager to yield their bounty to a patient hand, the whole of it surrounded by lush woods, providing ideal acreage for sheep and cattle, its wealth seeming unlimited. With such a pastoral setting, there was little expectation of any noise, other than the daily working of a farm, a tenant hailing another or the sounds of cattle lowing, or perhaps the raps of lumberjack’s axes against trees.

  Which was why the sounds of arguing were so incongruent one day in the early spring, and surprising as one combatant was known as a reticent man. He was tall, dark wavy hair framing a handsome face, dark eyes filled with intensity, and he was dressed in fine clothes as befitted his station. The other man in the dispute was not as tall or handsome, but would be called pleasantly featured by most, and was considered to be congenial by all, and easily led by the more cynical. In the present argument, however, he was not giving an inch.

  “What is this madness?” demanded the taller man of the other. “I can hardly comprehend what you are saying, for it makes little sense?”

  “Why should it make little sense? Since my father’s death, I have appreciated your guidance, Darcy, but if you think to direct me, you shall be disappointed.”

  “Bingley,” replied Darcy with exaggerated patience, “I have no wish to direct you, for you are my friend, not my subordinate.”

  “Then why do you take offense? Is it not my choice to pursue and—yes—even marry whom I wish?”

  “Of course, it is,” growled a frustrated Darcy. “In this instance, however, I must think you are at the mercy of some witchcraft, for you are making little sense.”

  “If witchcraft it is, then I am content to be caught in its grasp,” averred Bingley. “For I know no such exquisite torture as being in love with a worthy woman.”

  “Infatuation, you mean,” snapped Darcy.

  “Do you think I do not know my own heart?”

  “I believe the organ can be misled by your senses, that infatuation may be mistaken for deep and abiding love. Tell me, Bingley, what virtues does Miss Bennet possess that other ladies do not?”

  “A beautiful countenance and a beautiful soul,” rejoined Bingley. “Even you, who is so particular about those with whom you associate and will not give consequence to any young woman must acknowledge she is an exceptionally lovely woman.”

  “A lovely woman with a black heart.”

  Bingley’s countenance became stony and he turned to march from the room without a word. Regretting his outburst the instant he uttered it, Darcy followed his friend, ignoring the thought it had always been Bingley following him, rather than the reverse.

  “I apologize, Bingley,” said he as he chased his friend. “My words were ill-judged.”

  “At least you confess it,” said Bingley, stopping and whirling about, one finger jabbing in Darcy’s direction. “I am surprised at you, Darcy. Though this fool disagreement between your family and the Bennets has persisted for longer than anyone can remember, I had never thought you, of all people, would dismiss a young woman because she is a member of a family you dislike.”

  “It is her membership in that family which fills me with disquiet! The Bennets, Bingley, are not to be trusted—I cannot imagine this Miss Bennet differs from any of the rest of them.”

  “Do you know her? Have you exchanged even two words with her? Has your family’s misplaced pride allowed you to believe, even for a single moment, that she is not the blackguard you have always assumed she was?”

  “I k
now nothing of her—”

  “That is the point.”

  Bingley paused and calmed himself, taking several deep breaths. His friend, Darcy knew, was a man who disliked conflict, and would go to great lengths to avoid it. This was why Darcy was shocked their conversation had devolved to this state so quickly, for Bingley was more apt to laugh off that which he did not like, to evade unpleasantness instead of confronting it.

  “Darcy, please listen to me, as a friend,” said Bingley at length. “Our friendship has been a great strength to me over the years—I appreciate your assistance and that of your father more than I can ever say. When my father passed away, I would have been lost if you and Mr. Darcy had not guided me, and I am not insensible of my debt to you.

  “With respect to my life, however, I will accept no interference, will allow no dissent. My reason for informing you of my intentions was nothing more than the desire to avoid shocking you at the assembly tomorrow. I shall open the dancing with Miss Bennet and it is my intention to pay her the compliment of my attentions in as fervent a manner as I can muster. When the time comes, I shall ask her to be my wife, and I expect no less than her acceptance, for she has made her sentiments clear.

  “Do not denigrate her feelings, my friend,” interrupted Bingley when Darcy opened his mouth to do just that. “It will not be beneficial for our friendship if you say any unkind word about Miss Bennet, for I will not tolerate it.”

  For a moment, the friends stared at each other, Darcy surprised, for he was not certain he even knew this Bingley. On Bingley’s part, he stood and watched Darcy, not a hint of his feelings showing on his face. This, in itself, was unusual for Bingley, who was more akin to an open book than one closed tight.

  “Please, Darcy,” said Bingley, “I urge you to accept my choice. For our friendship to remain, I require your acceptance. While your regard for her is unnecessary, I will brook no criticism, none of the Darcy disdain. Though I hope you will remain a friend, I will end our connection if you cannot find it within yourself to abide by these strictures.”

  Then with a bow, Bingley turned and walked down the hall—within moments, the sound of Pemberley’s front door closing reached Darcy’s ears. Darcy wondered if he would ever speak to his friend again.

  The genesis of the dispute between the Bennet family of Longbourn, and the Darcy family of Pemberley was a matter of much speculation, for no one living could remember how it had come about. It may have been a dispute over water rights or the exact location of the border between the two estates, or it might have been as innocuous as an ill-timed slight or misspoken word. There were even whispers that it might have been an argument between two young men over the affections of a woman, though many scoffed at such silly notions. Whatever it was, the two families, while they did not descend to open warfare, had little good to say about the other, and were never inclined to deal with the other with any civility.

  It was fortunate the border between the two estates was a low hill rising between two valleys, otherwise the dispute might have escalated to greater bitterness. As it was, there was little value in the hill, other than providing a fine view of both estates, and previous masters had been content to ensure the fence between them was in good repair and attempted to forget the proximity of the other family. England was a civilized place and had been for many years, and the crown would not tolerate open warfare in an otherwise peaceful location.

  As it was, few in Derbyshire were not aware of the quarrel between the two families. The Bennets were the higher in society, as the current master of Longbourn was descended from a long line of the barons of Arundel and possessed connections to many others of similar stature—and higher—in society. The Darcy family, by contrast, were naught but gentlemen farmers, albeit with a long and distinguished history, lengthier than their more highly ranked neighbors could boast. There had been Darcys at Pemberley from time immemorial, some said back to the days of William the Conqueror, and while the Darcys were untitled themselves, they possessed many connections to those who were, including the late Mrs. Darcy, who was the daughter of an earl. Some of society called the Darcy family proud and arrogant, but not one of them could deny the family’s right to feel that way if they chose. It was nothing less than simple fact that previous Darcy masters had refused to accept titles, and the family was known to disdain those who did accept them. That they did not stint in showing this contempt to their titled neighbors was another bone of contention between them.

  While those of a sensible nature might argue that a forgotten grievance was a poor reason to carry on a dispute, neither family had seen any need to attempt to reconcile with the other. The other families of the neighborhood fell into one of three categories—they sided with the Bennets, sided with the Darcys, or opted to remain neutral and clear of any argument. Most chose this final approach, though there were some who chose another because of friendship, connection, or as an attempt to curry favor.

  Regardless of whatever others thought of the dispute, it was generally acknowledged that the absence of any violent tendencies between the two camps was a blessing. Instead, they tended more toward ignoring each other than arguing. And for that, most were grateful.

  The day after his argument with Bingley Darcy attended the assembly Bingley had referenced only the day before. Dancing was not one of Darcy’s favorite pastimes—it would be more correct to say he detested the activity. On that occasion, Darcy found he detested it more than he could ever remember. It took no great intelligence to understand the reason.

  As the strains of the first set wafted over the gathering, Bingley stood across the aisle from his newest angel, his eyes fixed on her in a manner Darcy had seen many times before. While it was comforting to think this infatuation might not last any longer than the others, there was something in Bingley’s countenance which suggested this time would be different.

  As the steps began, Darcy found himself unable to watch, and he glanced around the hall, attempting to discover some other sight to hold his attention. Were the entire Darcy family to attend, Darcy knew they would take up a position in one corner, while the Bennets would claim the other across the hall—no Darcy would ask a Bennet to dance, and there would be little mingling between the camps. While there might be occasions when members of the two families might come together due to the steps of the dance, they would affect ignorance of the other’s presence and exchange no words.

  On this occasion, however, Darcy was the only member of his family present. Mr. Robert Darcy, his father, was even less inclined to society than Darcy was himself, and Georgiana was suffering from an indisposition which prevented her attendance—though Georgiana was only seventeen, she had begun attending certain events of the neighborhood to prepare for her eventual coming out. And as Alexander, his younger brother, was away from home, Darcy found himself enduring the evening alone.

  “I see you continue to stand about in this stupid manner,” said a gentleman of the neighborhood by the name of Fordham, when the first sets ended. Fordham laughed at his own jest. “I understand your reticence, but surely you could set it aside for tonight. There are no ladies in attendance tonight who are desperate to attach themselves to you.”

  “There are few pastimes I detest more than dancing,” responded Darcy. Fordham was a good sort, but Darcy did not consider him a close friend, and he wished the man would retreat and leave him be.

  “I cannot understand why,” said Fordham. “Are there not many uncommonly pretty young ladies in attendance tonight? Take the Bennets, for example.”

  Darcy did not dignify Fordham’s words with a response, though he was forced to agree with him. Though Darcy had no care for the Bennet family, the five daughters were exceptionally pretty, from the first to the last. The eldest, who had caught Bingley’s attention, was one of the most beautiful women on whom Darcy had ever laid eyes.

  “Can you deny it?”

  Pulled from his thoughts, Darcy shrugged. “I suppose you are correct, though I have no care
for them.”

  “Ah, yes, the infamous feud between the Bennets and the Darcys,” replied Fordham with a shaken head. “Still, would a man not foreswear even enmity of longstanding to gain the regard of such an exquisite creature as Miss Elizabeth?”

  Darcy’s eyes found the second-eldest Bennet in response to the other man’s words, though he refused to respond. Fordham, unfortunately, needed no encouragement.

  “And Miss Mary, though of an overly religious bent, is not devoid of beauty. Even Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia, though still young, are acceptable, though I find Miss Lydia a little too calculating for my tastes. And then there is Jane Bennet.”

  Fordham paused for a moment, looking between Darcy and the eldest Bennet—not to mention Bingley, who stood close to her side. As Darcy might have predicted in advance, his next words concerned Darcy’s friend.

  “Miss Bennet is a beautiful lady, but I find myself interested in your friend, for it appears dear Bingley has slipped his leash. Unless I am mistaken, I suspect you are not happy about it either.”

  The full force of his glare Darcy turned on Fordham, which the man noted in an instant. Darcy’s displeasure had been known to quell more courageous tongues than Fordham possessed, but in this instance, he chuckled and shook his head.

  “Do not mistake me, Darcy,” said Fordham, still laughing to himself. “Bingley is a good man, but he has been attached to your coattails for at least these past four or five years. This sudden interest in the eldest Bennet daughter cannot be to your liking.”

  “Bingley may do as he pleases,” was Darcy’s short reply. “I neither direct him nor give my approval to his amorous interests. It would be best if you do not say such things where others might overhear, for I would have no one misled by jests which are untrue and in poor taste.”

  “Your friendship is well known in the neighborhood, Darcy. It is this sudden distance between you which will excite the interest of the gossips. That and his attachment to the eldest Bennet, which, I might add, has escaped the notice of us all, will only throw fuel on the fire.”