Mr. Darcy's Dream by Elizabeth Aston

dismissed lightly.”
    â€œI knew you wouldn’t understand,” said Phoebe despairingly. “How can you, when you have never felt any kind of partiality for a man?”
    Louisa spoke in a quiet, normal voice, in sharp contrast to Phoebe’s agitated voice. “Did he make love to you?”
    â€œDid he kiss me? Yes.”
    â€œWhatever was he thinking of to approach you before he had spoken to your father? What if somebody had come in and discovered you in his arms?”
    â€œHe kissed me, that is all. And I felt—oh! you would not understand what it is like to be kissed by a man like Mr. Stanhope.”
    Phoebe hadn’t spent a season in London without receiving her share of affection, and although she would not admit it to Louisa, Mr. Stanhope was not the first man to have kissed her. Yet the difference between his embraces and those of other men! Louisa was an innocent in such matters, and no doubt assumed that under the strict chaperonage that existed, no young lady would ever succumb to the temptation to kiss a man before they were engaged. Propriety would forbid it, but as Phoebe had discovered, propriety might well fly out of the window when there had been dancing and wine and a great deal of flirtation.
    â€œWhen he kissed me,” said Phoebe, “I was certain that I loved him, and—oh, I cannot express how I felt, but certainly I had no sense of wrongdoing.”
    â€œWell, to be sure, there is a degree of impropriety, but in which case, where was the problem? Don’t tell me he jilted you? That would be the most un-gentlemanlike behaviour imaginable.”
    â€œI woke the next morning to a degree of happiness beyond anything I had ever known. Only to be summoned downstairs to my father’s study, to be told that Mr. Stanhope had called,early that morning, to ask for my hand, and that my father had refused his consent.”
    â€œGood heavens, upon what grounds?”
    â€œBecause of his reputation. My father would brook no argument. He insists I would not be happy married to a rake, Mr. Stanhope is a rake, and therefore…”
    They walked on for some way, Phoebe striving to compose herself. Louisa said, “A man may gain a reputation which is unfounded, and not take the trouble to correct the world’s view of his character.”
    â€œI could not marry a man who is likely to be unfaithful. Infidelity destroys trust and honour and has consequences of a far-reaching kind that are unquantifiable.”
    Phoebe spoke with an intensity that shook Louisa, even though she was aware of some of the difficulties in the Hawkins family that lay behind Phoebe’s heartfelt words.
    Phoebe had only been thirteen at the time. Her home life until then had been a very happy one: she was something of a wild, noisy child, enjoying running around in the garden, riding her pony, and playing lively games with her sisters and friends of both sexes. At thirteen she had grown a little more restrained, but was still the kind of girl who faced every morning with zest and optimism and who possessed a natural inclination to happiness.
    Then a shadow fell across her happiness. Her parents, who had always presented a united front of affection and kindness, seemed to be at odds with one another. Closed doors, whispered conversations, or, much worse, long periods when her parents appeared to have nothing to say to one another brought a dreadful atmosphere into Hawkins Hall.
    Now, at twenty, Phoebe could still not forget the deep unhappiness that her father’s philandering had caused both himand her mother. She had been too young to fully comprehend what was happening, but intelligent and alert and mature enough to work out for herself what was going on. Servants were careless in their talk, friends made guarded comments, and it wasn’t long before she discovered the truth.
    Her father, alone in London for several weeks to attend Parliament, while his wife and family