Chapter 1
Love to Hate You
Pemberley High School of Academics
“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune and brains, must be in want of a trophy girlfriend.
However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first encounter with a poor girl, this truth is well fixed in the workings of his mind.”
May faith play a role in how people meet — at the right time, the right place, the right life.
Written and loved by Darla Benedict
Kisses xxx
Chapter 1
I think the beginning of something great will always feel like the end.
Elizabeth — or Lizzie, as most people called her — was starting a new high school. She had originally begun Year 13 at the local Longbourn Heights, but after Mr. Bennet got a new job as a biology teacher at the prestigious Pemberley High School of Academics, Lizzie was forced to move with her father and change schools.
Not that she had any say in the matter. Her father was the adult — she was the child.
While her father buried himself in schoolwork and long evenings grading papers, Lizzie was the one who made sure life didn’t fall apart. She paid the bills, checked the mailbox, and called the electricity company when something went wrong. She cooked, cleaned, bought groceries, and even remembered her father’s dentist appointments. She structured their days — made sure the fridge wasn’t empty, the house wasn’t freezing, and that their lives, broken as they were, still functioned.
Sometimes, she felt more like the parent than the child.
There was no one left to take care of her — so she had learned to take care of everything else.
At seventeen, Lizzie had already learned the bitter truth of adulthood: responsibility without reward, exhaustion without comfort.
Lizzie had always wanted to be an adult — but she had wanted to own her own life. Now she owned only her father’s chaos. The bills, the mess, the constant reminders of what used to be.
She wasn’t building a future; she was maintaining someone else’s broken life.
He told her what a great fortune they had been blessed with.
“This is our chance to start over,” he had said. Her father was really looking forward to the new jobb at, Pemberley High School of Academics,
After Lizzie’s mother and four sisters died in a tragic car accident two years ago, her life had never been the same.
She missed her beautiful, kind sister Jane — the Sun to Lizzie’s Moon, the Yin to her Yang. That part of her soul was now forever missing. Her kind, gentle Sun was six feet under. Life felt… empty.
Her parents, Thomas and Fanny Bennet, had once slept in the ground-floor bedroom, which her father had since turned into a library with a bed. Catherine “Kitty,” Mary, and Lydia had shared the big pink room upstairs. When her little sisters were alive, it had been filled with laughter, teddy bears, glitter, and clothes everywhere. Now it was nothing but a dusty shell.
The house had once been filled with laughter — the sound of music, of sisters chasing each other, singing, arguing, living. Now it was only silence.
Lizzie and Jane had shared the attic room, with its large window seat where they would sit and daydream. Lizzie’s art supplies had covered one side of the room, and Jane’s sewing the other. Jane had loved pastel colors, lace, and flowers — she had been like a living nymph. Everyone thought the sisters wore designer clothes, but in truth, they were Jane’s creations. Their mother always said her eldest daughter had “a taste like no other.”
Lizzie could still see Jane’s soft hands working at the sewing machine, still feel the warmth of her patience as Lizzie complained about the dresses she was made to wear. Now she regretted every ungrateful word.
She had packed Jane’s things carefully — one box for her best work, and a suitcase for her favorite dresses.
Her father had sold the house, and they were moving to Pemberley. Forever. No arguing with Mr. Bennet once his mind was made up. His “fresh start” felt like the end of time itself.
The movers loaded the last boxes into a big blue truck. Lizzie stood in the yard, seventeen years old and full of grief, hating the world. She was saying goodbye not just to a house, but to the ghosts of her family — to Jane’s laughter, to her mother’s voice, to everything that made life feel like life.
“Daddy,” she whispered, “I wish you could understand how much this is breaking me. Mom and my sisters wouldn’t be happy that you’re moving us to the other side of the country. When will we visit their graves… or light candles on the lake for them?”
Thomas Bennet sighed. “Lizzie, I’m doing this for you. We don’t talk much, but you have to move on. Not just sit under that tree, or read in the attic, or cry. I can hear you, you know. This is why we’re moving. I have new opportunities now. You can attend any college you want after Pemberley. We need a fresh start, Lizzie. Make new friends.”
How could he say that? To love is great, but when it ends — when death steals it away — love becomes a wound that never heals.
As the last box was placed in her father’s old grey-green Ford, Lizzie turned and took one final look at their little white-fenced house.
Goodbye, memories. Goodbye, house. I will carry you forever, my wonderful old life.
The eight-hour drive to Derbyshire passed in a blur — road after road, town after town, faces, fields, silence.
Then, in the fading light, the grand building appeared on the hill ahead.
A sign read:
Welcome to Pemberley — High School of Academics.
