A sexy, bold adaptation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice that re-paints favorite characters in twenty-first century colors
Judge Fitzwilliam Darcy, a legal expert on both sides of the Atlantic, is ready to hang up his black robe and return to the life of a country gentleman—until he meets Elizabeth Bennet, a fresh-faced attorney with a hectic schedule and no time for the sexy but haughty judge.
Tempers and sparks fly in Judge Darcy's courtroom— and outside, in a series of chance encounters that give each of them pause—as the two match wits and try to fight their overwhelming attraction. When they meet up in England at an international law conference, they embark on a hot, heavy affair. Back in the States, though, ethical considerations intrude, and each is subjected to a torturous period of soul-searching before they can find their way back to each other...
A sexy, bold adaptation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice that re-paints favorite characters in twenty-first century colors
Judge Fitzwilliam Darcy, a legal expert on both sides of the Atlantic, is ready to hang up his black robe and return to the life of a country gentleman—until he meets Elizabeth Bennet, a fresh-faced attorney with a hectic schedule and no time for the sexy but haughty judge.
Tempers and sparks fly in Judge Darcy's courtroom— and outside, in a series of chance encounters that give each of them pause—as the two match wits and try to fight their overwhelming attraction. When they meet up in England at an international law conference, they embark on a hot, heavy affair. Back in the States, though, ethical considerations intrude, and each is subjected to a torturous period of soul-searching before they can find their way back to each other...
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Overview
A sexy, bold adaptation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice that re-paints favorite characters in twenty-first century colors
Judge Fitzwilliam Darcy, a legal expert on both sides of the Atlantic, is ready to hang up his black robe and return to the life of a country gentleman—until he meets Elizabeth Bennet, a fresh-faced attorney with a hectic schedule and no time for the sexy but haughty judge.
Tempers and sparks fly in Judge Darcy's courtroom— and outside, in a series of chance encounters that give each of them pause—as the two match wits and try to fight their overwhelming attraction. When they meet up in England at an international law conference, they embark on a hot, heavy affair. Back in the States, though, ethical considerations intrude, and each is subjected to a torturous period of soul-searching before they can find their way back to each other...
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781402228254 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Sourcebooks |
| Publication date: | 10/01/2009 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 352 |
| File size: | 964 KB |
About the Author
Sara Angelini is an attorney living in the San Francisco Bay area. After earning an MS in Animal Sciences, she decided against becoming a veterinarian when she realized she only liked her own pets and moved to California with her husband to pursue law school. She is working on her third novel.
Read an Excerpt
The Trials of the Honorable F. Darcy
A modern Pride & PrejudiceBy Sara Angelini
Sourcebooks, Inc.
Copyright © 2009 Sara AngeliniAll right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4022-2824-7
Chapter One
CHARLES BINGLEY LOOKED UNDER the hood of the Lamborghini Murcielago and crossed his arms over his chest."How much horsepower?" he asked.
"It's a 580," replied his friend, Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Bingley stroked his chin and nodded, his eyes still caressing the engine. "And zero to sixty in ...?"
"Zero to sixty-two in 3.8 seconds, top speed 205."
"Have you driven one?"
"Yes. I wasn't impressed-traction control," Darcy said, a hint of disdain in his clipped British accent. Bingley looked up at him.
"Isn't that a good thing? I don't want to plunge over the Pacific Highway, no matter how good I look in it."
"For God's sake, Bingley, it's an Italian super car! If you're afraid to drive it, buy a Honda."
Bingley chewed on his thumbnail absently. "I bet it costs a fortune to insure."
Darcy laughed. "Insurance? Don't buy it if you can't afford to wreck it."
"It looks scrumptious," cooed Bingley's sister, Caroline. "I'd look divine in it." She bent over to peer in the window and surreptitiously looked behind her to ensure Darcy had a good view of her rear.
"What do you think, Darcy?" Bingley asked.
"If flash is what you want, this is the car to buy," Darcy replied with a noncommittalshrug.
Caroline wiggled out of the window and turned to Darcy.
"Whatever happened to that funny little car you had-the one with the driver's seat in the middle?" she asked.
"I sold the McLaren to Ralph Lauren a few years back. He refuses to sell it back to me," he said ruefully.
"You know Ralph Lauren? Ugh, tell him I hate his latest line." Caroline wrinkled her nose and checked the polish on a fingernail. Darcy allowed one side of his mouth to curl into a smile as he envisioned himself flipping open his cell phone and saying, "Ralph. Darcy. Hate the line. Want my car back."
"I'm getting it!" Bingley declared. "Let's go." He walked resolutely toward the dealership's office. Darcy looked at his watch.
"Bingley, I have to get back to court. Don't you want to think about it overnight?" he called after him. Bingley continued toward the dealership door, shaking his head.
"I'll have it in yellow!" he announced, giving Darcy a dismissing wave in farewell. Darcy sighed and climbed into his non-flashy Audi.
"Fucking Ralph Lauren," he muttered to himself.
Darcy pulled into the parking lot of the Meryton Courthouse behind a blue MINI Cooper whose driver was bobbing her head and clearly singing at the top of her lungs. From the adjacent parking slot, he watched in fascination as she slammed out a drumbeat on the steering wheel. He wondered when she would pull out the air guitar. Laughing silently to himself, he grabbed his briefcase from the passenger seat and climbed out. The driver of the MINI Cooper was apparently doing an encore, as she did not exit.
One of my favorites, he thought, recognizing the song as he passed the car. He hummed the tune to himself, fingers twitching at his side as if working over the frets of a guitar. His long legs took him quickly across the lot and up the five flights to his office.
"Good afternoon, Your Honor," an attorney greeted him in the hallway. Darcy nodded in greeting and passed through the judges' entrance, slipping his dark-rimmed glasses on as he did. A state budget crisis left the building with slipshod security at best, and in an effort to slightly alter his appearance, as well as to appear older, during court, Darcy wore glasses and gelled down his hair the way his father had done. It was amazing how little attention to detail most people paid. He was rarely recognized on the street by attorneys with whom he regularly worked, let alone a one-time defendant with a grudge. Still, better safe than sorry, so Darcy lived in a secure high-rise building in downtown San Francisco and made the daily commute to Meryton.
Just as he was passing her, his secretary said, "Judge Clayton went home sick. You'll have to take her afternoon calendar."
Instantly annoyed, Darcy swung back to his secretary.
"Sick? What's wrong with her?"
She shrugged and handed him his phone messages, studiously avoiding his frown. A moment later, Presiding Judge Wendell Boyd knocked briefly on Darcy's door before letting himself in.
"Sorry, Will," he said, shaking his head and handing Judge Clayton's docket to Darcy.
Darcy removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Judge Clayton's "illnesses" had become a near-ritual occurrence, and the fallout always landed on Darcy's shoulders.
"Any word on appointing a new judge?" he asked, tossing the docket on his desk. Boyd held his hands up defensively.
"My hands are tied until either California miraculously finds a couple hundred million dollars lying around or until the hiring freeze is lifted. Even when the money starts flowing again, you know that Meryton is the bastard stepchild of San Francisco. The city gets priority for filling their vacancies. I was lucky you were appointed; there were two other vacancies I didn't get to fill. So don't hold your breath."
Darcy shook his head in disgust, and Boyd turned to exit. He paused by the door and said, "If you leave at the end of your term, I'll really be in a bind. Have you considered running for re-election?"
"I've considered it and decided not to."
"Come on, Will. Dockets are backed up two full months, and you're the best damned judge in the county. You'll be doing everyone a disservice if you quit when we need you the most. If it's the money, I'm sure I can figure something out."
"It's not the money. It's that fighting the good fight has lost its charm."
Boyd nodded in understanding and opened the door. "Just think about it," he urged, then left.
"Don't hold your breath," Darcy muttered.
Sighing, Darcy sat at his desk and rubbed his tired eyes. Money was the least of his concerns. Like his barrister father before him, Darcy had inherited a large fortune and estate in England. And like his bohemian Californian mother, Darcy felt that money was rarely the remedy for one's ills. She was as influential as his father on Darcy's decision to become a barrister specializing in family and criminal law. His fondness for all things American presaged Darcy's path to become an expert in United States jurisprudence. Shortly after obtaining his barrister's license, Darcy's firm quickly tapped him to spearhead their foray into international law by opening an office in California. His dual citizenship allowed him to move freely between countries, and his natural ability-he had always been a quick study-allowed him to easily pass the California bar exam. Despite his young age, within two years, Darcy had gained a solid reputation for his skill in complex international litigation. The judges appreciated his decorum, his colleagues appreciated his intelligence, and the community as a whole appreciated his integrity.
When the then-presiding judge keeled over in his mistress's bed, Wendell Boyd was appointed to fill the vacancy and charged with the task of finding a scandal-free replacement to fill his own vacancy. Will Darcy immediately came to mind. He encouraged Darcy to submit an application, and with barely ten years of practice under his belt, Darcy became the youngest judge appointed in the county.
But four and a half years into a six-year term, Darcy was disillusioned, overworked, and bored. The inter-office politics, from the lowest clerk all the way up to the governor, disgusted him. Although the workload was staggering, it was also monotonous. The same tired issues, the same weak arguments, and the same gray, shouting faces. It was enough to drive Darcy insane.
Well, no use dodging it, he thought resignedly. He looked at Judge Clayton's docket.
Six trials.
"Fucking Judge Clayton," he muttered under his breath.
Still irked by the sudden transfer of Judge Clayton's calendar, the Honorable F. Darcy entered the courtroom with an annoyed swirl of black robes. Sometimes he imagined himself as Professor Snape when he wore them. Considering how frequently he wished he could zap some people out of existence, it was fitting. This afternoon would be one of those days. He hated cleaning up other people's messes, and yet, it somehow always fell to him. He was "responsible" and "reliable" and "respectable" and "rich"-all qualifications that made everyone think he enjoyed taking care of their problems.
He thought they could all go fuck themselves. Christ, I need a vacation, he mused, surprised at the vehemence of his own resentment. He was practically counting the days until he could return to England and assume the life of a country gentleman. Or maybe he'd loaf on a beach for a year, or travel, or visit relatives in France, or ... he pulled himself out of his reverie and turned his attention to a new face in the courtroom.
Well, if it isn't little drummer girl, he thought, amused. Probably here to contest her speeding ticket.
She was talking to Charlotte Lucas, a defense attorney from Gardiner & Associates. She was lucky; he was a softie for speeding tickets. If the policeman didn't show up, he routinely dismissed them. As he didn't see a California highway patrolman anywhere in the courtroom, he figured she'd be free to play air guitar within the hour.
"Anybody ready?" Darcy asked, handling his docket on a first-come, first-served basis.
He was surprised to see Ms. Drummer Girl lead a pudgy, slightly sweaty man to the defense table while Mr. Johnson, the prosecutor, took his side.
"Elizabeth Bennet for the defense, your Honor," she announced. Darcy gave her a critical eye over his glasses and returned his gaze to the file before him. New attorney, he thought, disappointed. Tedious.
Tedious as it was to break in new attorneys, Ms. Bennet at least gave a concerted effort to defend against the charge of solicitation of prostitution. Her client, Bill Collins, was a habitual offender who Darcy had sentenced on several occasions. He wondered how long before Mr. Collins contracted a flaming case of herpes.
While he was not impressed by Ms. Bennet's hyper-technical arguments-and made sure she knew it-he let enough of them stand to force the prosecutor to reduce the charges. He sentenced Mr. Collins to thirty days probation and called the next case.
The prosecutor then brought the prostitute before Judge Darcy for trial. She was represented by a barracuda defense attorney from DeBourgh & Associates, slumming on a pro-bono case. Darcy groaned inwardly. He hated that firm-they never took a plea bargain. He would have to try the case.
"What am I in trouble for?" the prostitute whined, outraged.
"Fucking Bill Collins," Darcy thought irately.
* * *
"Fucking Judge Darcy," Elizabeth Bennet swore as she punched the elevator button to the ninth floor where Gardiner & Associates was located. Even though she knew they were weak, she had been humiliated by his pointed dismissal of her defenses. It was an inauspicious way to start her legal career.
"I think you've just been Darcied," Charlotte teased. "He's actually a pretty good judge. He's never been overturned on appeal, you know," Charlotte said, winking at Elizabeth.
"I think Buddy Holly needs to work on his interpersonal skills," Elizabeth replied. They dumped their briefcases in their offices and met again at the door as they left for the evening.
"Want to go for a drink?" Charlotte proposed.
"I'm meeting a friend. Mind if he comes along?"
Charlotte shrugged, and soon they were walking toward the local legal watering hole, the Assembly room. Elizabeth found her friend sitting at a table by himself.
"Hi, Lou. This is Charlotte Lucas. Make nice."
Louis Hurst, Elizabeth's best friend since junior high, was a slender man with deep blue eyes, dark hair, and who worshipped Rupert Everett. With little direction in life, he had never been driven like Elizabeth. He drifted from job to job, somehow always managing to land on his feet. Right now, he was a massage therapist at a day spa. Their opposite attitudes were largely what glued their friendship together-that and their fashion sense.
Charlotte and Lou gave each other friendly greetings and Lou handed Elizabeth the cocktail he had pre-ordered for her. They were just arguing over what to order from the menu when something caught Lou's attention.
"Who is that?" Lou gaped with raised eyebrows. Both Elizabeth and Charlotte turned toward the door.
"Ugh, it's Judge Darcy! Let's get out of here!" Elizabeth exclaimed, grabbing her purse.
"Too late," Charlotte groaned. Darcy was standing a few feet behind Elizabeth talking to another attorney and inconveniently blocking their path to the door.
"Come on, Darcy, join us. It'll be fun," Elizabeth overheard Darcy's companion say.
Darcy shook his head. "No, I'm busy tonight."
"But she's crazy about you. You could get laid tonight!" the attorney pressed.
"Thanks, Jim, but no," Darcy declined politely.
"Hey, did you see Gardiner's new attorney? Eleanor ... Elaine, what the hell is her name? Elizabeth, that's it! She's hot. you should ask her out."
Elizabeth's face flushed as Lou's eyes widened in disbelief and Charlotte laughed outright.
"She's all right, I suppose," Darcy said dismissively. Elizabeth's jaw dropped in indignation, and Lou clapped his hand over his mouth in mortified mirth while Charlotte snorted seltzer out her nose.
"C'mon, she looks like she's got a great body," Jim cajoled, oblivious that Elizabeth was sitting directly behind him.
When she thought it couldn't get any worse, Elizabeth heard Darcy say firmly, "Look, she's not pretty enough to tempt me. Do you have any idea what kind of headache even the appearance of impropriety would cause? I could get kicked off the bench for shagging an attorney who practices before me."
Elizabeth was the first to burst out laughing at the absurdity of their conversation, joined by the howls of her friends. Annoyed by the explosion of laughter behind them, Darcy and Jim moved away from their table, never registering the identity of its occupants. Elizabeth, having heard enough, gathered her keys and purse. The trio lapsed into another fit of giggles as they brushed past Darcy on their way out.
"She's all right, I suppose," Charlotte mimicked, then laughed again.
"But not pretty enough to tempt me," Lou finished with a spot-on impression. "Maybe I'm pretty enough to tempt him," he suggested hopefully. "Ooh, the shagging we would do!"
"Oh, Lou, the only shag about you is your hairdo," Elizabeth snorted.
Despite the humor she found in the situation, Elizabeth could not ignore that she had just been rather soundly insulted by Judge Darcy. She continued to laugh and joke with Lou and Charlotte as they went to dinner, but a slow burn of resentment began to glow inside of her.
Darcy really was busy that night. He had plans for dinner with Caroline. Dinner, of course, meaning sex. He wasn't quite sure when he had decided it was acceptable to have sex with his best friend's sister, but it had been occurring on an occasional basis for the last two years. He drove to her apartment and absently ate dinner. They pretended to watch a movie until she straddled him on the couch, then the action moved to the bedroom. Although he was physically aroused, Darcy felt empty, detached. Caroline writhed and moaned beneath him, and he performed those acts which brought her pleasure. His breathing was hardly quickened by the effort; she was easy to please. He allowed her to orgasm and then reached his own quickly, in an almost businesslike manner. Afterwards, he leaned against the headboard and drew his knees up, draping his elbows over them.
"What are you thinking?" she asked him sleepily.
He was thinking that he was ashamed of himself for taking advantage of her when he knew that she wanted more.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Trials of the Honorable F. Darcy by Sara Angelini Copyright © 2009 by Sara Angelini. Excerpted by permission.
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