Page 1 of Kismet

Prologue

Catherine looked out the window at the passing scenery. She was grateful the other occupants of the carriage had nodded off, granting her a moment to contemplate just how much her life had changed, and the new opportunities that awaited her in London.

Having spent most of her childhood in hiding, she never thought much about her future, let alone her first season. Her father had been a despicable man and cared nothing for his property, his tenants, or even his wife and daughters. Gaining his attention was not a desirable outcome, as it often resulted in insult and emotional injury. Catherine had attempted to stay out of his way, out of everyone's way.

Her sisters and mother had to rely on each other closely to endure her father’s tyranny. Their bond had grown stronger over time and no matter how hard Mr. Bennet tried to tear down the ladies of his household, he never managed to succeed.

From Jane to Lydia, her sisters and mother had tried to instill in her the confidence to chart her own course despite their father. Their efforts seemed futile until a dastard named Wickham had tried to drag her injured sister away. Unable to stand aside or hide as she typically would have, Catherine had made use of the archery lessons Elizabeth insisted she took and shot Wickham. The memory of her triumph filled Catherine with a warm sense of satisfaction, a smile spreading across her face.

In the end, her father had failed in his attempts to rule over Longbourn and his family with disdain and he had been forced to sign away his control over his wife and daughters. They were stuck in their unhappy situation simply because they were female and lacked the rights to change their circumstances. If their father had not signed his rights away, they would have been forced to return to him, according to the law. With his rights gone, they were finally able to leave Longbourn without facing the consequences he had always threatened.

Within a year of their liberation, Mr. Bennet had truly gotten his comeuppance. His preference for the pleasures of his book room and a good glass of port left him unable or unwilling to maintain the profitability of his estate, and once Longbourn was no longer aided by the Bennet ladies, it had quickly gone bankrupt. Unfortunately for him, things went from bad to worse, and he passed away shortly thereafter.

Lizzie and Mr. Darcy, who insisted she call him William, had brought them all to Pemberley after their marriage and turned them in to family. The first year there had been lovely, as they finally had the freedom to pursue their own interests and endeavors. Jane had gone around visiting all the tenants with Elizabeth, eager to see to their care. Both sisters excelled in these tasks, as they were innately compassionate and dedicated to taking care of others. Mary had worked on the school she wanted to set up for Pemberley’s tenant children. While the allure of the gardens at Pemberly had captivated Lydia, and William had given her permission to design a new garden. She could often be spotted diligently working alongside the gardeners, eager to absorb their knowledge. They had all helped mentor Georgiana on how to assist the tenants.

They had all taken pleasure in meeting the many families around Pemberley, both the tenants and neighbors. Mr. Bertram Hawkins was one of Mr. Darcy’s long-time neighbors. He often visited the shops in Lambton, with the bookstore being a particular favorite, as he was an ardent bibliophile. A widower with no children, she had thought him nice, but paid him no mind until he proposed to her mother weeks after they had learned of Mr. Bennet’s death.

While her sisters and herself had been slightly shocked by the turn of events, they were ecstatic when they learned their mother had fallen in love with him. She had suffered through more than twenty-two years of marriage to a capricious and cruel man; they were happy that she would finally have love. Though they were even more stunned by the news of their mother's pregnancy six months into her new marriage than they were by her remarriage.

Catherine knew she should not have been surprised by her mother’s pregnancy as she was not an old woman—her mother had married Mr. Bennet at the tender age of sixteen. She had been remarried to the love of her life and welcoming her new baby boy Mathew by forty.

She was going to miss both her mother and her new baby brother while she was in London. She had not had a season the year before because of her father's death, so this would be her first season. She was nervous as she headed into the city to confront the throngs of people journeying to London to see and be seen.

It was also going to be Georgiana’s first season as well, so at least that was something. She would not be doing it alone. Actually, between all the people who were going to be staying at Darcy House, she was definitely not going to be alone.

Mary had not yet married, so she would be participating in the season, and Mrs. Ansley, who had started out as Georgiana’s companion but now served them all, would be an invaluable presence. Lydia was going to be there as well, even though she was not yet out. In fact, Jane would be her only sister missing from the fun because, like their mother, she was going to be staying at her own estate with her husband and new baby.

Of course, Lizzie, William, and their darling little son were going to be there. It would be nice to be able to play with little Artie when she needed a break from all the pretentious ladies of the ton.

Catherine knew she was participating in the season because it was expected of women her age in order to find husbands. But did she even want a husband? She was just starting to realize her own strength and capabilities, and although she desired a husband and children, she was in no hurry to make it happen. She knew what she wanted in a marriage partner, and it was love. Nothing less would do. Her desire was not for a love that was fleeting, but the kind of love that endured, like the love she saw between her sister Lizzie and William.

With everything going on during the season, finding a love like that seemed impossible. She knew love was unpredictable and sometimes you had to fight for it. Should she be so lucky that love did show up in her life, she would grasp it tightly with both hands, refusing to let it escape. Despite that belief, that hope she wasn’t sure she was willing to even admit to herself, she worried of ever finding someone with whom she could develop that sort of love. But she told herself not to fret. This year, she had decided she would merely try to enjoy the season and the opportunities to visit the theater and other delights only to be had in London.

Feeling settled, she closed her eyes and decided that she would join the others in a bit of a nap. It would be quite a while before they reached their next stop and if her childhood had taught her anything, it was that there was no use worrying about things beyond her control.

Love was a possibility, and the odds were in someone's favor. The only question was whose favor?

Chapter One

Every night Theodore dreamt it was the same, and he knew that morning would be no different. Upon waking with a start, he laid there, shivering from the dampness of his sweat-soaked sheets. He desperately fought the lingering panic that clung to him in a suffocating embrace. Kicking futilely at the tangled sheets, Theodore growled in frustration. He had fought hard to survive the many battles he had experienced while in the regulars. Few people ever saw the scars that crisscrossed his hardened body, and even fewer knew of the scars that were etched deep in his psyche. His nights were often spent in a fight against his own mind.

Staring at the ceiling above him, Theodore attempted to catch his breath and ground himself in reality. He was in London, in his brother's home, not a smoky battlefield full of the moans of the dying. His hair was matted with sweat, making it sticky and uncomfortable against his scalp. He ignored it and scrubbed at his face in frustration. Forcing himself to sit up, he threw the damp sheets back from his body.

He would start the day as he always did to regain some of his equanimity. Going to the table by his bed, Theodore poured some water from the ewer to the basin before leaning over to splash his face. He cleaned up and dressed to go out. Looking in the mirror, he noted that despite his best efforts, he couldn't hide the redness in his eyes. He left his room while still fiddling with his cravat. It had been over a year since he had served, but he was still trying to adjust to a different wardrobe. Heading downstairs, he went in search of something to sustain him for the exercise that he desperately needed.

He knew that Mrs. Goodwin would have put out coffee for him. The cook at Matlock House had always found little ways to support and pamper him. With her way of seeing to the fact that he was always served his favorites, was it any wonder that he preferred her nature to the housekeeper? Knowing he was an early riser; she brewed a fresh pot of coffee for him to start his day. As a child, he had thought she must be some sort of witch, for she always seemed to know what he was up to. Hiding spots and plots, foibles and fears, she knew about them all. Her discovery of his morning coffee dependence intrigued him and made him wonder what other new secrets she had uncovered.

He did not even bother to sit to drink his cup of coffee. Gulping it down so quickly that he almost burnt his mouth, he headed out the door. The bitter taste on his tongue helped him orient himself to the day ahead as he made his way to Hyde Park. The sun was rising as he arrived, and he savored the tranquility of the early hour, undisturbed by the hustle and bustle of the day.

Choosing his direction, he took off at a brisk pace. Scenes from his past stalked him night and day. He was not, however, a willing or obliging victim. He kept himself busy, for movement was an ally in the silent war he fought within himself.

The sun was fully risen by the time he walked down the street to return home. He normally stayed across the square at his cousin Darcy's home, which was usually the epitome of comfort, but with so many debutantes filling the space, Theodore opted for Matlock House instead. Between Georgiana, Mary, Catherine, and Lydia, there were too many young unmarried women at Darcy House, and he could not stay there with the eager gossips in London for the season. They were like a plague, spreading their toxic tales and destroying reputations. And so here he was, gazing at the imposing building that was his own family's home in London, trying to muster the desire to go in.

Walking up the steps, Theodore bit back a curse as his leg tried to give out on him in protest of his earlier exercise. He grabbed the railing and waited until his leg decided to obey. He could handle pain; it was the intermittent weakness that frustrated Theodore more than anything. Finally able to stand, he went in with his shoulders back, ready for whatever the day might bring.

If he had his druthers, he would be anywhere else doing anything else. His choice would not be to be in London, having to deal with his family and the more annoying people from society. Entering the morning room, he spotted his mother sitting at the end of the table with a cup of tea and toast. His brother was not in the room yet, and Theodore nearly turned around and walked out.

He had spent little time at all with his mother. She rarely visited him in the schoolroom and then after that he was at Eton, Cambridge, and away with an active unit of the regulars. Since returning from the continent, he had realized that they had little in common. She was quite fond of the status quo, but it was something he never bothered to give a second thought to. He had met soldiers from noble families that were utter cowards, liars, and cheats. On the other hand, he knew men from the lowest of families that had more integrity and compassion than their king. Status quo would never truly sway him, and so he stood in the doorway watching his mother pick at her food. Somehow, even as a battle-hardened ex-soldier, he did not want to face his mother alone.

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