Sorry. This is my fourth story in progress, but I like this story and I feel bad keeping it all to myself. I also want to prove that I am doing something, though I may not be updating the other stories. My excuse is that I get writers block really often, so if that happens I move on to another story. Well I'm stuck on the other three, but hopefully not for long. Summers almost here and I should have at least one of the stories finished before school starts again. I hope you like this. It has been sitting on my computer FOREVER! It was just taking up space. I edited it and have written the next chapter already. :-) I'll post that next weekend most likely, but if I get enough reviews I might be willing to post it earlier. :-)
Summery- Fitzwilliam Darcy lived a life of wealth. He was a 19th century gentleman with connections and breeding. Deciding to take a walk one day, Darcy finds himself somehow transported to the 21rst century. Can he survive a world very different from the one he knew? He receives help from Elizabeth Bennet, a millionaire, but in the end will she have truly helped him or have only made his life all the more complicated? Can he ever find his way back?
Fitzwilliam Darcy lived the life that many men could only wish for. He was a handsome, well connected, wealthy gentleman who owned a large estate in Derbyshire. Even with all of this he was still not a happy man. He had come into his responsibilities at a young age after the death of his father. Since his mother had died years previously, not only did he have charge of the estate, but after his father passed, he also had to care for his younger sister, Georgiana.
Darcy was not a people person. He had a hard time opening up to anyone he had not know for a long time. His list of friends and people he could depend on was short, very short. It consisted of Colonel Fitzwilliam (his cousin), Georgiana, and a few close friends. Another thing that was considered lacking from Darcy's life was love. Or at least a partner to share his life with, regardless of affection. Despite his numerous attractions to single ladies from all over the country, Darcy was unmarried and had no plans of becoming so. He was determined to marry for love.
Darcy sighed as he paced the floor of his study. He was waiting for his cousin to arrive. Colonel Fitzwilliam was a very jovial man and was one of the few people who could bring Darcy out of his mask of cold indifference. Glancing at the clock Darcy noted that there was still another hour before Fitzwilliam was to arrive, but knowing his cousin Darcy had to prepare himself for a wait of two or three hours. Darcy stopped his pacing and searched in vain for a book to occupy his interest. Finally he gave up the effort and decided on a walk.
As Darcy stepped out to the grounds of his estate, he felt much of his tension drift away. Feeling much lighter, Darcy began to walk towards the woods on his property. He strolled through the trees enjoying it immensely. Feeling adventurous, he moved off his much trodden path and explored the more dense forest.
Darcy looked at his watch and began the journey back to the house, when he caught a glint of white. He spun to see it and spotted a beautiful flower, the likes of which he had never seen. It was a shocking pearly white and as large as his hand. Darcy carefully moved closer and bent to examine it. He felt a tickling in his nose and took a deep breath to hold back the sneeze. The sent that invaded Darcy's nostrils was very unusual, even unnatural. It smelled sweet, but there was a bitterness and unhealthiness to it that Darcy could not understand. Suddenly he found himself rocking on his heels and his vision begin to blur. The trees disappeared and Darcy saw great factories that bellowed smoke into the sky. He saw carriages without horses moving far faster than could be healthy and even flying machines that traveled miles and miles up in the air. He saw explosions, huge and fiery. He saw great forests cut down until all that remained were the sad branches, dead upon the ground. Then the world went black and he saw nothing more.
Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled as he spotted the familiar landmarks that showed him to be in Pemberley. He rode at a leisurely pace, admiring the grounds. He reached the house and dismounted, handing the reigns to a stable boy. Fitzwilliam looked up at the window which he knew belonged to Darcy's study. He expected to see his disgruntled cousin staring out at him from that window, but it remained vacant. Fitzwilliam made his way to the study without informing any of the servants. He was a regular at Pemberley and as welcome as if it was his own home. His loud knock on the study door should have been easily identifiable to Darcy, but yet the door remained closed. After another knock, Fitzwilliam decided to just go inside, propriety and politeness be damned.
Taking a bold step into the room Fitzwilliam scanned the room and was shocked to find it empty. He checked the clock and found himself on time for once. Even had he not been on time, Darcy would have waited another hour before departing the room. Darcy was a creature of habit, he was comfortable in doing things he had done all his life. There was no reason for him to change his ways now. Fitzwilliam's eyes swept the room once more before he exited to room.
He moved off in search of Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper. If anyone knew where Darcy was it would be her. She was in the parlor with Georgiana. He smiled and cleared his throat. With an exaggerated bow to both he addressed his question.
"Do either of you fine ladies know where Darcy is? I cannot find him." Both women looked quite shocked.
"I believe he said something about a walk, but that was an hour ago. Was he not in the study?" Mrs. Reynolds replied in a worried tone.
"No, I have just come from there. I shall investigate the grounds. He may have just lost track of time." Fitzwilliam knew how doubtful that was, but it seemed to calm the women down, so he let them hope.
Fitzwilliam followed the footprints he could see in the slightly muddy ground. He thanked god for the heavy rain that had come some days before. The trail let him into the forest and he moved slowly, careful not to deviate from the path. It seemed that Darcy had followed one of his favorite trail and gone to one of his haunts in the woods.
Fitzwilliam stopped abruptly as he realized the footprints no longer followed the trail. They moved off straight into the woods. With some apprehension Fitzwilliam forced himself to follow their direction. After about a quarter of a mile the tracks stopped and doubled back. Fitzwilliam allowed himself a smile. Maybe Darcy was alright after all. The tracks suddenly veered off to the right and Fitzwilliam had no choice, but to follow them. Soon they stopped altogether without any reason. There was nothing unusual about the spot. There were no other sets of foot prints, so he could not have been kidnapped, and there was no sign of a struggle. There was no sign of Darcy at all. It was as if he had dropped of the face of the Earth.