I Dream of Darcy, Book 3: A Pride and Prejudice Regency Variation: I Dream of Darcy, #3

By Andrea David

Elizabeth Bennet from Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice is flattered to be courted by a handsome young earl. Yet in her heart, she yearns for the mercurial Mr. Darcy. Tall, handsome, and keenly intelligent, he leaves her breathless whenever they are in company.

After Lizzy helps Darcy save his cousin from a scoundrel, they grow closer. Then, a visitor from her home at Longbourn upsets Lizzy's plans. Will the schemers and fortune hunters drive a wedge between her and Darcy? Or will our dear couple find their way to lasting love?

This Pride and Prejudice variation is a sweet Regency romance. It's the third and final book of a novel in three parts that must be read in order. This serial includes flirty banter, wicked rakes, and breathless kisses, but no on-page intimacy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Artesian Well Publishing
• Release date: Oct 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393352839

Andrea David

Andrea David is a Regency romance author in Raleigh, North Carolina. When she's not reading or writing, she enjoys gardening, scuba diving, and hiking active volcanoes with her husband.  Never miss a release! Sign up for Andrea's fan list to be notified of new books, special offers, and exclusive content. https://andreadavidauthor.com/newsletter/

Book preview

About the Book

Elizabeth Bennet from Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice is flattered to be courted by a handsome young earl. Yet in her heart, she yearns for the mercurial Mr. Darcy. Tall, handsome, and keenly intelligent, he leaves her breathless whenever they are in company.

After Lizzy helps Darcy save his cousin from a scoundrel, they grow closer. Then, a visitor from her home at Longbourn upsets Lizzy’s plans. Will the schemers and fortune hunters drive a wedge between her and Darcy? Or will our dear couple find their way to lasting love?

This Pride and Prejudice variation is a sweet Regency romance. It’s the third and final book of a novel in three parts that must be read in order. This serial includes flirty banter, wicked rakes, and breathless kisses, but no on-page intimacy.

Chapter 1

This is Book 3 in the I Dream of Darcy serial. Be sure to start with Book 1.

Amidst the chill of the February morning, Darcy entered his carriage. It was still dark in the last hour before dawn, but the lamp inside offered a soft glow. He settled into the supple leather seats and waited for Bingley, a few steps behind him, to say his good-byes. Bingley considered everyone a friend, so it might take some time.

Could the Greymore ball have been more of a disaster? He had offended Elizabeth. Her cold words had cut to his heart. But he could not blame her. The fault was entirely his own.

And then there was the attack on Arabelle. What was to be done about Rolf Peabody? The man could not be left free to roam the streets and assault another young woman. Lord Wayne would not protect him as his father had done.

Darcy would see Bingley home, then head to Matlock House. Ultimately, the earl would decide what must be done about Rolf. Exhausted as Darcy was, it would likely be hours before he could sleep.

Bingley, though, stepped into the carriage looking as if he could keep revelling for hours. What a splendid evening!

It had been for him, of course. He had danced two sets with the woman he loved, the woman he would assuredly marry before the season ended. Bingley had always been a lucky fellow. True, he had lost his parents too young, as Darcy had. With that exception, Bingley had the most astonishing good fortune. No wonder the man was cheerful.

Darcy tapped the ceiling, and the carriage got underway. Bingley frowned at him and asked, Why do you look so glum?

Rolf Peabody insulted my cousin Arabella.

Good heavens! Bingley paled, his expression one of concern.

Despite trusting his friend implicitly, Darcy withheld the details. His first responsibility was to protect Arabelle. "My aunt is not taking the situation lightly. I expect Rolf will be persona non grata as far as the ton is concerned."

Bingley’s face fell. Is Lady Arabella well?

I believe so. She has had a shock, and will likely feel the effects of it for a while. Much as Georgiana did after Wickham’s treachery. But Arabelle is surrounded by family. She will be herself again.

His brow narrowing, Bingley pressed, You seem worried. Is something else amiss?

Darcy winced. The memory of Elizabeth’s words still stung. He considered how much to tell his friend. I am going to make Miss Elizabeth Bennet an offer of marriage.

A huge grin swept across Bingley’s features. Capital! I knew you would come around. Jane will be delighted. Should not you be happy, now that you have made this decision?

Hoof beats clomped on the cobbled streets. I worry that Miss Elizabeth will not have me.

Bingley squinted in confusion. Why would you say that?

This evening, she said with some vehemence that we are nothing to each other.

Pursing his lips, Bingley seemed to contemplate that a moment. I can see how she might draw that conclusion. You did avoid her all night. If that is how you ply your suit, might I recommend a different tactic?

Darcy gave him a sardonic smile. I confess, I began the evening determined to give all my attention to Lady Cressida.

At that, Bingley bridled. "I thought you wanted me to marry Lady Cressida."

Do you wish to marry her?

Of course not. I am going to marry Jane. And you may tell your cousin Peter I said so.

Darcy nodded slowly. Do you fear he might win her away from you?

Not at all. I would not wish him to waste his time and look a fool.

Darcy wondered whether the same could be said of himself. Elizabeth’s words could not be considered encouraging. But then, to counter Olimand’s gossip, Darcy had actively tried to distance himself from her. It appeared he had succeeded.

Now he had to undo it.

With his prospects looking bleak, Darcy could not say why he had confided his plans in Bingley. Yet he was glad he had. Somehow, stating his intention made it more real, more solid.

He leaned back and gazed out the window. The sky was lightening, and the shapes of buildings were coming into view. It had been a long night. He hoped tomorrow would be better.

It could hardly be worse.

BY ZEUS, MAN, WHY DID you not come to me? The Earl of Matlock stared down Viscount Wayne, who looked deeply chagrined. Darcy felt almost sorry for Wayne, despite his brother’s behaviour the night before.

At first light, Colonel Fitzwilliam and two sturdy footmen had taken Peabody to his fate. Matlock’s funds purchased him a commission in His Majesty’s army. The coachman’s testimony would have been enough to send Peabody to Newgate if he had not complied.

Now, the colonel was back. After a sleepless night, he, Darcy, and Wayne were gathered in the earl’s library.

The room was familiar to Darcy. He had spent many happy hours there as a child looking through his uncle’s books. The varied tomes were stacked high in dark cherry bookcases.

The earl’s massive desk faced the door, an assortment of chairs gathered around it in shades of green and gold. Velvet drapes pulled back with tassels framed the floor-to-ceiling windows. Beyond them lay the skeleton of the dormant garden.

Matlock, standing behind the desk, was a formidable man. With eight children, he and the countess had run a tight ship, yet the house had been full of love. Darcy’s uncle was generous to his friends but a powerful opponent to those who crossed him.

Peabody had been a fool. If he had succeeded in coercing Arabella into marriage, it would not have been legal. He would not have seen a penny of her dowry. And if, Heaven forbid, he had forced himself on her, he would have hanged.

The shape of Peabody’s scheme had emerged through the questioning of servants. Each of them had known only their own part, and had not suspected that Peabody intended to abduct the girl. The valet in particular was distraught over the unwitting role he had played.

Wayne sat slumped in a leather chair, eyes trained on the floor. His hair was dishevelled and his cravat long gone. Bitterness laced his barely audible voice as he said, I did not imagine he could do anything so desperate. I had hoped the harvest would save us, but 1811 was as bad as 1810. Rolf seemed to think marrying an heiress was the solution. I expected him to offer for Lady Arabella—

Good heavens, man, the earl said. Did you think I would let that reprobate marry my daughter? A rake who would break her heart and use her dowry to pay his gambling debts? He has no income, no prospects. When he asked permission to court Arabelle, I turned him down. Just as any responsible father would.

Not to mention, Darcy mentally added, Rolf’s nasty habit of meddling with the housemaids.

Heiress, indeed, the colonel scoffed. Rolf needs an occupation. The army will make a man of him. I shall see to it.

The muscles in Wayne’s face tightened. He gripped the arms of the chair until his knuckles turned white. Then, he met the earl’s eyes. Thank you for handling this matter privately.

Your father was my friend for thirty years, Matlock said. His voice rose in intensity. If I had known he had lost control of his faculties, I would have helped in having him declared incompetent. Why did you not come to me?

Wayne shook his head wearily. By the time I returned from my wedding trip, it was too late. The money was gone. The steward had bought the unentailed properties for a pittance. He sold them for an enormous profit. And the secretary had mortgaged the entailed properties. He escaped with the funds to America.

Darcy looked at the viscount in disbelief. Old Wayne had been an intelligent, vigorous man, astute in his business dealings. How could it all have gone wrong so quickly?

What did you do to recover the funds? Darcy asked. Surely the steward can be held accountable.

I spoke with my solicitor, and he said nothing could be done.

Nonsense, the earl said gruffly. Young man, you are a viscount now. You sit in the House of Lords. If the law gives you no recourse, then change it. A viscount treated in such an infamous manner! Every aristocrat in the nation would be horrified to learn of it.

How could I face them? Wayne asked. How could I admit I had failed my family so completely?

Darcy’s chest ached for his old friend. He admired Wayne’s sense of responsibility, but in this case it was misplaced. He was not to blame for his father’s illness nor his brother’s villainy.

Matlock said in a clear, confident voice, Senility is no shame, sir. It happens in the best of families. Why, the King himself is mad.

A look of pain twisted the viscount’s features. I was a fool. I should not have trusted my brother to look after my father while I was gone. As long as Rolf could treat our ancestral home as a gaming hell, he did not care what the rest of the household did.

Wayne sagged in the chair as if all the fight had gone out of him. The house was a den of iniquity when I returned. And my father...

His voice broke, and Richard set a steadying hand on Wayne’s shoulder. The viscount continued, My father had been a bit forgetful when I left, but I thought that was just his age. He was seventy, after all. But when I returned from Scotland six months later, he didn’t know who I was. His voice broke. Surely he would not have declined so rapidly if he had not been neglected. I should not have trusted my brother. But I didn’t know. I didn’t know.

His face sank into his hands. The grief in his words cast a silence over the room.

Wayne, I have known you all your life, the earl said. You are a good man. Your brother is entirely to blame in this matter. A couple of years fighting Boney will force him to reform his ways.

The viscount looked up and nodded absently.

Tomorrow, the earl said to Wayne, "you and I will meet with my man of business. We will discover what is to be done towards