Fallen Woman – Arthel Cake

Both indicated they had not. “It can be frightening, We went two years ago when a famous showman was in London. Caroline nearly swooned. It has the effect of ghosts hovering over the audience and swooping around, as well as other such effects. I do not know how they accomplish it but it is very real.” Darcy felt it was only courteous to allay Bingley’s curiosity.

“They project the images on smoke. As it drifts, the figures appear to move and hover in air.” “Is that all? It seems simple enough when one knows the trick.” “Most unexplained phenomena are simple enough when one knows what causes them,” Darcy replied dryly. “I should like to see such a performance,” Elizabeth held his gaze for a moment, causing a tightening in Darcy’s chest.

Darcy drew a breath and replied, “If there is such a show in London over the holidays I would be pleased to take you and Miss Bennet.” “Perhaps we ought not to take Mr. Bingley,” Jane put in with a twinkle, “now that he knows how it is done.” Amid laughter the coach continued on its way. The ladies were deposited at Gracechurch Street where the Gardiners would see them home, and after a short visit Darcy and Bingley left them there.

In the coach, Bingley was silent for most of the way to Mayfair, only turning to his friend as they approached his residence. “It went well, do you not think, Darcy?” “Very well.” There was a short silence before Bingley cleared his throat and said, “If I may ask, why did you really purchase the villa? You rarely spend any summers in Town” Darcy had wondered if his friend would ask the question.

He was not a particularly curious man, however some instinct of protection must have stirred at Darcy’s admission he owned the house. “I was contacted by a solicitor for the estate shortly after the old gentleman’s death. He was a friend of my grandfather whom I had never met. I remembered the name but had not known he still lived or where he was. He had fallen into near poverty and the house required repair as well as refurbishing. I originally intended to sell it, now I do not know.”

Darcy did not inform Bingley that the old gentleman had died without funds sufficient for a proper burial. He was not a man to advertise his charities, even to friends. Bingley seemed satisfied with the explanation. Darcy was not certain he was himself as convinced of his motives.

All characters in his novel with the exception of the originals from Pride and Prejudice and any historical figures are the sole product of the author’s imagination and have no connection to any any real person living or dead. Most place names are also imaginary and do not represent any actual place.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written permission of the author. OceanofPDF.com Table Of Contents Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Epilogue OceanofPDF.com OceanofPDF.com F Prologue June 1808 Pemberley Manor, Derbyshire itzwilliam Darcy sat hunched forward in the chair beside his father’s bed numb with grief.

He had not left it since his arrival from Cambridge the night before. His usually fastidious clothing hung disheveled on his tall frame. He had not been shaved in nearly two days and the dark shadow of beard added to the image of a young man in emotional and physical disarray. Memories flickered and jerked through his mind like phantoms.

His father leading him around the training ring on his first pony. His father taking him fishing in what became their favorite spot, showing him with endless patience how to cast a line. His father sitting with him in the music room while his mother played and sang, his face full of love for his wife. Memory after memory came and went until a soft groan startled Darcy from his reverie. The wasted man in the bed stirred, his eyelids fluttered. Darcy took up his father’s cold hand, holding it as if to lend the man his own warmth.

Tears stung his eyes, he blinked before they could fall. He felt like a boy again standing at his mother’s bedside to say goodbye as she failed. This was his father, the heart and soul of Pemberley; how could he be dying? “Son. You arrived…in time.” The deep voice, so like his own, was a thin whisper.

Darcy sat farther forward, his grip tightening. “Father. I came as quickly as I could.” Nothing, no response. Darcy’s breath hitched, his chest constricted with pain. George Darcy gathered what strength he had, his fingers curled around his son’s. “Keys. Desk. Mr. Thatcher has…them. Locked drawer. Letter.” His eyes opened wide, he struggled to focus on his son’s face through a gray haze.

“Burn…letter. Promise!” “I will, father, I will. Whatever you want me to do.” The elder man’s hand relaxed.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: d12392dc239a9322
• File Extension: .pdf
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• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• ISBN: 9780578449159
• Pages: 365
• Language: English (en)

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• Total Words: 136,899
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