Mr. Darcy's Daughters

Chapter One

Town and country are different worlds. No matter how rich and self-possessed they are, country-bred young ladies need to keep their wits well about them when they come to London.

The two eldest Darcy sisters were in the morning parlour of a large town house in Aubrey Square, the home of their cousins, the Fitzwilliams. Letitia, the eldest, was sitting at a small elegant table, a sheet of hot-pressed notepaper lying in front of her, trying to compose a letter.

She put down her pen with a sigh of irritation. "The noise," she said. "The constant sound of carriages and horses and voices and dogs barking -- however can people support living in the midst of such a din?"

Her peevish tone wasn't reflected in the calm beauty of her face, which with its wide brow and fine nose caused her sisters, when in teasing mood, to call her Galatea, declaring that she was exactly like a classical statue come to life.

Camilla had none of Letitia's perfection of feature. Her chief attributes were a pair of dark, expressive eyes, an instinctive grace of movement and a lively countenance. She was sitting at the window, delighting in the sights and sounds of a smart London square and wondering at the medley of smells wafting in from outside. She watched a carriage and pair rattling by, driven by a stout young man in a many-caped coat, his well-bred chestnuts picking up their hooves in a brisk trot. The driver sent a lingering glance towards a pretty governess in a blue pelisse who was walking her charges, two lively little boys, along the pavement. The smaller child was dragging a small wooden horse on wheels, which kept on tipping over, his brother darting back to set it right to the accompaniment of squeals of annoyance and mirth.

A fine, tall footman in morning livery was exercising a pair of cavalier King Charles spaniels, their feathery tails waving to and fro as they frisked and jumped about, uttering sharp barks. An oyster seller shouted her wares in a great bellow of a voice, and a knife grinder cried out for business on the other side of the square. A delivery boy sauntered along the railings, whistling, one package under his arm and another swinging round and round on its length of twine.

"There are those who find the crowing of the cock and the rumble of the farmer's cart and the baaing of sheep insupportably noisy," she said, without taking her eyes from the busy scene outside.

"Camilla, how can you say so? The tranquillity, the sweet serenity of the countryside, the silent beauty of our woods and river, I do so miss them."

Camilla listened with only half her attention as Letty launched into her favourite lament of how unfair it was, how unreasonable of their parents to drag them from the peace and happiness of Derbyshire to a house in London. "It is so especially hard on Belle and Georgina; how they will hate to be staying here."

Camilla prudently kept her opinion on that to herself and laughed out loud as the two spaniels twined their leashes round the footman's handsome calves and threatened to upturn him.

"Come away from that window, you must not be sitting there for anyone to see."

"What harm is there in anyone seeing me? I'm not ogling the footman, merely admiring the scene."

"Ogling the footman indeed! Camilla, don't say such things. I know you mean it for a joke, but others won't understand your sense of fun, and may take you seriously."

"Only a fool would take it seriously, and why should we care for the opinion of fools? Besides, he is such a very handsome footman."

Letty spoke with real earnestness. "Your free way of speaking is likely to get you into such trouble! Mr. Fitzwilliam would not approve."