I love finding interesting facts and people to include in my stories, so when I researched how bones were set in Regency England, I was excited to find an article on the DNA analysis of a bonesetter in Wales. Although I found no record that Evan Thomas ever visited London, he was a real person to bring into my story to help Elizabeth in A Respectable Gentleman. After all, his family was known for their skill as bonesetters going back to his grandfather, who was also named Evan.
The first Evan Thomas’s origins and life are fascinating. Evan and his twin brother survived a shipwreck sometime in the 1740s. By some accounts, the brothers washed up on the northern coast of Wales, but other accounts have them pulled from the water by a local smuggler. Evan’s brother, who they named Matthew, only lived a few days while Evan was adopted by a local doctor. Evan had darker skin and hair and spoke no English or Welsh, which perpetuated a myth for centuries that he was Spanish–some even claimed him to be Spanish nobility.
From an early age, Evan showed a talent for healing broken limbs by treating local birds and animals. Eventually, the people of the area began coming to him for treatment, and soon after, the gentry began to request his services. He was even known to have treated a viscountess when local doctors had tried and failed. Her husband was so impressed with Evan’s work that he commissioned a marble plaque in Evan’s honor at the church in Llanfairynghornwy.
The first Evan had four sons. Richard, who was a farmer, proved to be the most famous of them. Richard then had three sons and four daughters. All of the family practiced bone setting with the daughters emigrating to the Americas, specifically Wisconsin, and practicing there.
Richard’s son Evan (the Evan in our story) had decided to emigrate to the Americas like his sisters in 1831. However, upon reaching Liverpool, he had run out of money, so instead, he remained and worked in a factory. His choice of occupation at that time was fortuitous for him and those with whom he worked since a great many accidents occurred in factories at this time, and often Evan treated his co-workers injuries.
It did not take long for the talk of Evan’s talents to spread, and soon he opened a surgery on Crosshall Street in Liverpool where he also lived. At first, no barriers existed between him and the local doctors and physicians. In fact, they would send him all of their traumas, but when he began making large sums of money from his practice, the cordiality disappeared. The other doctors even persuaded Evan’s displeased patients to sue him and succeeded nine times–including once for manslaughter.
Now our Evan had two daughters and five sons, and those five sons all became doctors. However, his son Hugh Owen Thomas is acknowledged in history books as the “father of modern orthopedics.” His most famous achievement is the Thomas splint. Hugh later adopted his orphaned nephew, Robert Jones, who carried on the family legacy. Robert saved many lives by using the Thomas Splint on the Western Front during World War I.
And just in case you are wondering, the original Evan Thomas was not in fact Spanish like the rumors claimed. DNA analysis has concluded he haled from Caucasus Mountains.
Happy Monday! The Peculiarity of Mr. Darcy’s Mirror is joining a Booklinker promo featuring witch and paranormal romance novels from October 4th-21st. The 99¢ price is good worldwide.
Just follow the link to the Booklinker promo page and check out the books in the promo (Peculiarity is at the bottom 🙂 ). I hope you find some good reads for an amazing price!
We’re nearing Thanksgiving, and in the grand tradition of Black Friday, I have a couple of books on sale in the United States and the United Kingdom. All three only 99¢ for a limited time! This is a great opportunity to pick up a couple of fun books for a great price, so make sure you get them now while they’re on sale!
The week is flying by and we’re up to Chapter 3! If you haven’t read the previous chapters yet, please follow the links to catch up. Prologue, Chapter 1,Chapter 2. Release day is Friday, July 11! I’m trying to get everything up and ready for launch, so when I have a preorder link, I’ll post it on social media and here.
Now, for the cover! I couldn’t resist adding Herne into the cover. He’s a reindeer in real life, but it was the best white stag photo I could find 🙂
“Oh, Mr. Bennet! Do you not see that this would be a marvellous thing for our girls?”
Her mother’s cries carried out of the library and into the hall. Elizabeth paused and breathed deeply for a moment. She had once again returned from her walk to one of her mother’s fits. They occurred more and more often these days. She could not escape them it seemed.
After steeling herself, she stepped inside her father’s sanctuary, and her mother sneered. Whatever words were to come would not be good. Elizabeth’s body tightened.
“And what are you doing about finding a husband? When your father dies and we are cast out, do not think I can keep you. If you had been a boy—”
Papa held up a hand. “Do not say it, Mrs. Bennet! As for my visiting Netherfield, we know little of the gentleman who has leased the property. He and his family may not be magical. We must tread with care. I shall speak to Sir William. I heard he has called on them.”
“What do I care if they are magic or not?” Her mother’s voice had become shrill. “I shall not have the funds to keep your daughters when something happens to you. They must be wed. I shall not have it any other way. I insist you go and go now!”
Elizabeth crept around her mother to sit in her preferred chair. If she said nothing, her mother might forget her presence for the time being.
“I have your tea, Mrs. Bennet,” said Hill as she entered quickly with a tray.
“When did I say I wished for tea?” The housekeeper remained so patient with Mama when she was like this. Such a skill was one Elizabeth desired. Her equanimity was difficult to maintain when her mother’s ire was so often directed at her.
Papa stood and moved a book so Hill could place the tea tray on the desk. “I ordered it. Now, sit and take a cup, my dear.”
With a flounce and a huff, her mother sat then accepted the tea from the housekeeper. After her first sip, she opened her mouth to continue her vitriol, paused, and rested her hand with the cup in her lap, a frown marring her pretty face.
“What was I to say? My mind is so foggy all of a sudden.” Mama blinked and looked down into her tea.
“Do not worry yourself over such triflings,” said Mrs. Hill. “I believe you were about to remove to the parlour to attend to your needlework. Miss Bennet is sewing clothing for the Smith’s new baby. You could join her. Would that not be lovely?”
“I am embroidering a tablecloth for the dining room, with five-petaled lilacs. Those are for good fortune, you know.”
“You showed me your progress two days ago if you recall. The piece shall be beautiful when it is finished.” Mrs. Hill aided Mama to stand and placed a hand upon her back as she helped her from the room. “If you would like, I can bring the tea for you to drink while you work.”
“Yes, thank you, Hill,” said Mama as they departed. Hill closed the door after returning briefly for the tray.
“I am pleased you did not employ Jane to calm her. Jane exerts herself too much to care for Mama.”
Her father dropped back into his chair and leaned forward against the desk, rubbing his temples. “I agree. I am attempting to do better. Jane will not be with us forever, and we must learn to do for ourselves.”
“So you have had the same visions?” She was not prepared for Jane to leave, but the day was coming if the glimpses Elizabeth had seen were correct. How she would miss her dear sister when she was married and gone!
“I have seen a little. I only know she is to marry a fair-haired gentleman.”
Elizabeth leaned against the arm of her chair. “Mr. Bingley I have heard him called in mine. He is a very happy fellow from what I have seen.” He never failed to wear a wide grin in her visions.
“He does seem to be that,” said Papa. “Mr. Bingley is also the name your mother just used for the gentleman leasing Netherfield. I suppose there may be something to her rantings.”
“And it is also likely they are from a magical family.” The assumption was one that could be made. Her father would not sanction a marriage between someone without magic and one of his daughters. He could not take the risk that someone would inadvertently notice one of their talents and accuse them of witchcraft. Such an unequal match was dangerous.
Papa dipped his chin to look at her over his glasses. “Have you seen Fitzwilliam since the equinox?”
She shook her head. “No, but I have reason to believe he will find me out walking at some point.”
“Will you allow him to get to know you? Lady Anne and Darcy were excellent people. I cannot imagine they raised their son to be anything less. I could never part from you for someone unworthy.”
Through the window, the leaves falling from the trees caught her eye. The last thing she wished for was an arranged engagement, but what if this Mr. Darcy was indeed well-suited for her? She might regret rejecting him without giving him an opportunity to prove himself. “I feel I should see if we are a good match first.”
“I fear there are few who would challenge your quick mind. Fitzwilliam was intelligent and talented, even at a young age. While we awaited your birth, Darcy and I both worked with him. He exceeded all of my expectations at that time. From what I heard from his father in the years following, the young Darcy continued to impress his father with his skill.”
Elizabeth could not help but fidget. She had withheld a few details when she had told her father of their meeting. Could he provide insight into the questions she had from that night?
“What are you holding back, my dear?”
She almost laughed at his perception. He always knew when she kept secrets.
“Well, as we approached the stones on the equinox, the vibrations from the altar greeted me at the edge of the wood, but so did other sensations—strong ones—and they strengthened when I spoke to him. Could I be sensing his power?”
He sat back, his gaze penetrating. Could he see through her? “You are accustomed to sensing magic. The hum is what one characteristically feels, and the strength can vary based on the other’s talent. I would venture this is more than the usual, but what, I only have suspicions. You and Fitzwilliam will need to discern that meaning between the two of you. Since the sensations greeted you when you entered the forest, I am sure it must be more than mere attraction.”
Her cheeks heated. “I would rather not discuss any attraction with you, Papa.”
With a laugh, he picked up a book near the edge of the desk. “I feel the same, Lizzy. I feel the same. Come, I believe we were to review a few more advanced protective charms today. If we are to make any progress, we should begin.”
~*~
2nd October 1811
“Sir,” said the butler. “Mr. Bennet of Longbourn.” The servant shifted against the door as the gentleman being announced stepped into the drawing room.
Fitzwilliam had to hold his breath for a second not to chuckle. Since he had little recollection of the gentleman from his youth, his father had oft times described Mr. Bennet to him as resembling the illustrations they had once seen of Merlin, without the long robes, of course. Mr. Bennet wore a suit that appeared at least five seasons old, and his hair was cropped closer to his head, just as Fitzwilliam would have expected. He even had a longish sort of beard.
Bingley stepped forward with his usual jovial countenance. “Mr. Bennet, I am pleased to welcome you to Netherfield. May I present my good friend Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, my brother-in-law, Mr. Reginald Hurst, his wife Mrs. Hurst, and my sister Miss Caroline Bingley.” Bingley gestured to each as he introduced them then he motioned to the couch. “Please do sit. I have been eager to get to know all of my neighbours.”
As Mr. Bennet took the offered place on the couch, their guest tilted his head for a moment while he glanced about the room, his lip curved ever-so-slightly on one side. The expression was not so dissimilar to the one Elizabeth wore from time to time on the evening of the equinox. If he had to guess, Mr. Bennet was amused by them all. How much could the gentleman perceive from the brief time in their proximity? His father once said Mr. Bennet was rarely fooled by people. Fitzwilliam could not wait to ask for Mr. Bennet’s opinions of his friends.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances,” said Mr. Bennet. “I hope you are enjoying the neighbourhood. Meryton is small, but we are an amiable lot.”
Bingley nodded with his hands clasped together in his lap. “The few I have met thus far have been quite agreeable. I have heard from more than one person that Longbourn borders the Netherfield lands. Is that true?”
“Longbourn is approximately a two mile walk south through the fields. Netherfield’s lands stop at Oakham Forest as you near the west side of the property.”
Fitzwilliam cleared his throat. “The forest is part of Longbourn, is it not?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Bennet. “The Bennets have owned Oakham Forest for centuries.”
Miss Bingley tittered. “I confess to knowing little of property, but would not the land be more profitable if you were to clear it and use it for farming or livestock?” Mrs. Hurst gave a slight cackle. The lady said little and usually followed her younger sister’s lead, and Miss Bingley would never see the value in trees. She possessed a weak talent and placed more emphasis on status and money.
“Caroline, you know very well that trees are valued in our circles.” Bingley leaned forward and glared at his sister. He could attempt to exert her to behave, but whether she responded was unlikely. Miss Bingley listened to no one.
Mr. Bennet watched the exchange, his eyes bright and darting from one person to the next. “I have heard the owners are seeking to sell Netherfield. May I enquire if such was mentioned to you, sir? I know the neighbourhood is concerned of who might purchase the property.”
“With good reason,” said Bingley. “None of us wishes to be accused of witchcraft. Meryton is one of the few magical hamlets remaining near London. I find the town enchanting, and it would be a shame if the neighbourhood did not remain as it is. Do you know how long it has existed?”
Mr. Bennet relaxed into his seat and crossed his ankle over his knee. “Meryton is recorded as having existed in the Domesday Book. I have documents stating the Bennets were gifted their land in the 6th century. I assume the town came into existence not long after.”
Miss Bingley’s nose crinkled as though she smelt something foul and looked at Mr. Hurst who mirrored her sister’s expression. They would never see the value of such a place.
“’Tis that old?” asked Hurst. He was already in his cups, so thankfully, he had not said anything more thus far.
“How fascinating!” Bingley grinned from ear to ear. A surge of what could only be described as joy filled Fitzwilliam, and he steeled himself to force his friend’s emotion from his body. Bingley needed to control himself. The elder Bingley son had been the heir, but he had died five years ago. Bingley was, as a result, head of his family, but with no more than the mere talent of being able to project his happiness onto those around him. The magic suited him. Bingley was so pleased with everything and everyone, it was almost contagious.
A chuckle came from Mr. Bennet. “’Tis an interesting gift you have, sir.”
Bingley reddened. “Forgive me. I had not intended—”
Mr. Bennet held up a hand. “I am not offended. Spreading happiness to others is harmless. I would wager a little joy could do many a great deal of good.”
“Well, Darcy is helping me learn to control my outbursts. They occur less often than they once did.”
“Bingley was often exhausted and drained from the power he was exuding,” said Fitzwilliam. He could recall Bingley’s eyes being red-rimmed and lined with dark circles. Holding in his emotions had been difficult at first, but Bingley had practiced and become more proficient.
“Forgive me, Mr. Bennet, but I must ask,” said Bingley. Fitzwilliam had to keep from laughing. Bingley wore an expression that made him appear almost like an eager puppy. “But I have heard mentioned that you have five daughters—all reputed to be rather pretty.”
Bennet’s eyebrows shot up. “I do have five daughters, and I believe they are all beautiful in their own way, but I am hardly impartial. My eldest is Jane, then comes Elizabeth, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia.”
“I heard they are all out?” asked Miss Bingley.
“Their mother insisted upon it, so yes, but I would not approve of an engagement for Kitty or Lydia as yet. They are still too silly to understand a lifelong commitment.”
The clock in the hall chimed and Mr. Bennet stood. “Well, I should be returning to Longbourn. Will we see you at the next assembly? I believe it is in a little over a fortnight.”
“Yes,” said Bingley, beaming. “I should be pleased to go.”
“Good.” Bennet stepped forward and offered his hand.
After Bingley shook it, he held out his arm towards the door. “Let me walk you out.”
Fitzwilliam stood. This was the opportunity he required. “I shall join you.”
His friend shook Bennet’s hand one more time at the front door, but Fitzwilliam stepped outside with Mr. Bennet and walked with the gentleman to his carriage.
“You look just like your father did at this age,” said Mr. Bennet. “I would have recognised you instantly in a crowd. You do have your mother’s eyes and nose, however.”
Fitzwilliam laughed. “Yes, Mrs. Reynolds tells me the same quite often. Has Elizabeth told you of our meeting?”
“She did, but should you not call her Miss Elizabeth?”
“Yes, I should, yet the glimpses I’ve had over the years of her have been frequent enough to make me feel as though I know her. I assure you; I shall address her properly when we are in company.”
The older gentleman dipped his chin with a slight smile. “From what Elizabeth has told me, you intend to court her instead of relying upon the arrangement. Well done, young man. My daughter can be wilful, and she was not best pleased at the idea of marrying a stranger.”
“I dreamt of your conversation of our engagement.”
“A fortuitous foresight I would say,” said Mr. Bennet.
“Yes, I have known of this most of my life while she has not. I am uncertain whether she has had visions of me, so she may not have any attachment. I shall not know more until I can talk to her.”
“She speaks little of what she sees. I have impressed upon her the importance of allowing the future to unfold as it will.”
Fitzwilliam nodded. “Yes, I would not have spoken of the matter unless I was assured it had already happened.”
Mr. Bennet clapped him on the shoulder. “Knowing your father as I did, I am sure you would not. Since I would prefer you to wed my daughter over anyone else, I shall tell you she takes walks every morning, usually in Oakham Forest. She likes the stones and visits them often. There is also a willow near the brook where she seeks solace on occasion.”
“Will she not object to you revealing her sanctuaries?”
He grinned with a slight chuckle. “Most certainly.” He wagged a finger. “But ensure you win over that beast of hers. Herne is quite protective of her.”
Fitzwilliam allowed a quirk of his lips. “She named him Herne?” Herne was said to be a ghost with antlers who haunted Windsor Forest in Berkshire. The name was appropriate.
“She thought it fitting.”
“Well, he did not take issue with me speaking to Elizabeth the night of the equinox festival, but I shall be prepared nonetheless.” An apple or carrot would be appreciated by the stag, would it not? He had never left treats for the deer on Pemberley grounds, but his horses appreciated those particular foods.
“You could see him?”
“Yes; I could also sense the protection spell, but I could not miss him when I approached the forest.”
Mr. Bennet looked at him over his half-moon spectacles. “How fascinating! If I may ask: your friend, Mr. Bingley—I have sensed that he is a good sort of gentleman?”
With a frown, Fitzwilliam shrugged one shoulder. “He can be capricious, but he is not one to do evil. His brother was the heir, but he died five years ago. He was thrown from his horse.”
“How tragic,” said Mr. Bennet.
“Yes, and Bingley was left to take up the mantle. He may have difficulty finding a wife who is willing to settle for a talent, but he is a good fellow. Why do you ask?”
Mr. Bennet waved a hand. “No reason, really. Just wanted to ensure my sense of others is still working properly. But I should go. My wife was in an ill temper when I departed, so I should return.”
“Of course. I hope Mrs. Bennet is feeling better.”
“Thank you, Fitz. . .” He laughed and shook his head. “I should call you Darcy now, though it is strange to do so.”
When Mr. Bennet climbed inside his carriage, Fitzwilliam stepped forward to close the door. “I shall see you soon, sir. Good day.”
Happy Monday! We’re getting into the unposted chapters in our book preview. I’m working on getting all of the particulars (including the cover) finished for the release on the 11th. If I can get a preorder up, I will, but I hit my head on a bookshelf last week and have had to adjust how often I work at a time so I don’t get a headache. The book is proofread, and I have plenty of time to get it up on Kindle so I’m not worried. I rested most of the day on Friday and have felt much better since. With the time away from the screen and concentrating, which has been what’s made it ache more than anything.
The crisp evening air greeted Fitzwilliam Darcy as he slipped from the door at the back of Netherfield and with a quick step, started in the direction of Oakham Forest. When he reached the fields, the remnants of this autumn’s wheat harvest crunched beneath his feet. He took in a bracing inhalation. His soul rejoiced at being out of doors and out of Netherfield. Since his arrival, Miss Caroline Bingley had been following him like a dog in heat, and he had been at his wit’s end to escape her clutches. Much to his relief, the Bingleys and the Hursts had departed the day before for Stonehenge, which had given him a reprieve, but today, leaving the house provided him the additional respite he required.
He had spent a prodigious amount of time riding the fields atop his stallion Hengroen[1] during the past two days. This morning, after racing through the fields, he had skimmed the wood along the edge of Netherfield’s lands. The magic from within the forest was strong, the pull it created similar to that of Nine Ladies on his own lands in Derbyshire. Of course, the stones were emanating more power due to the equinox; the strength of the draw would fade after a week or so.
As he rode, he had passed villagers who had come to make their offerings of libations to the trees, pouring cider, mead, or water upon the ground around their trunks. Some harvested from a cluster of apple trees along the south side of the forest.
Since the earth was nearing its time of rest, all and sundry prepared for winter by drying and storing from the harvest. Those in Meryton were doing the same as what occurred in Lambton this time of year. He had never missed an equinox at Pemberley before, but he had an obligation to fulfil in Hertfordshire this year, and while he could have delayed this until closer to the winter solstice, something in him itched to satisfy a certain curiosity.
Little contact had occurred between Mr. Bennet and him in the years since Fitzwilliam’s father had died. Of course, their lack of correspondence had been part of the plan to help protect Elizabeth. Their betrothal had been arranged while she was in her cradle, but while it had been known that his marriage had been arranged long ago, the identity of his bride was a well-guarded secret to most. Mr. Bennet had not wanted Elizabeth to be forced to wed at too young an age. Fitzwilliam, however, was more than ready to marry. His sister required the steady presence of an older sister, and he required an heir. The time had finally come.
He lifted the hood of his cloak while he continued towards Oakham Forest. He had never visited the stone circle here, though he had read of the site in his father’s journals. The pull of the power in its midst steered him as he wound through the trees at the periphery of Netherfield’s fields. As he walked, voices could be heard in the distance; villagers who were also going to the circle to celebrate. Bingley and his sisters had chosen Stonehenge since the “fashionable” people were to gather there. Miss Bingley had been put out that Fitzwilliam had chosen to remain behind. Her presence, and that of the ton, were all the more reason to do so as far as he was concerned!
As he drew close, a creature bounded before him, making him jump back. His jaw gaped at the sight. A white stag? Those were exceedingly rare. When he stepped further into the trees, the creature took one step closer, then another. Fitzwilliam extended his hand, and a prickling shot up his arm as he drew closer. Someone had levelled a protective spell upon the animal, and a powerful one at that.
The stag eyed him in a way that unnerved him before it closed the distance between them and sniffed Fitzwilliam’s outstretched fingers. The air glimmered as they drew close to each other. The great beast had been shielded as well. Why was it he was able to see the animal?
“I shall not harm you. I can only assume Elizabeth cast the spell to protect you, but do you protect her as well?” He spoke in low, soothing tones. He had no desire to frighten the beast.
The magnificent animal snorted and threw his head up and down before he crept a bit closer. He nuzzled Fitzwilliam’s hand for a moment, but soon, his head lifted with a start before he bounded back into the forest.
“I wonder if Elizabeth has entered the wood,” he said softly.
He allowed his hand to fall before he continued towards the centre of the forest. He had just crossed a small brook when he came to an abrupt halt. “Blast, I forgot a log for the fire.”
His eyes darted to take in everything around him as he continued. After a couple of minutes, his gaze landed upon a fallen limb off to the side. The large branch appeared to have broken upon its impact with the ground and several pieces were suitable for his purpose. He noted one thicker piece about three feet long. That piece would do nicely. After all, he could not appear at an Autumn equinox celebration without an offering for the fire. He would be considered rude indeed.
He removed his gloves and shoved them in his cloak pocket before picking up the sizeable log and returning to the path.
After about four minutes more, a clearing became visible through the trees. People had already gathered, and a bonfire was being set up in the middle while offerings of leaves, nuts, apples, and candles had been set upon the altar.
“Mr. Darcy,” exclaimed Sir William Lucas, a portly gentleman who stood near the logs as they were being arranged. “I see you have come to join us for our Mabon[2] celebration. You are quite welcome, of course! The Bennets have yet to arrive, but I believe most of the village has come for the festivities. Have you met Mr. Bennet yet? I should be pleased to introduce you when he arrives.”
“I thank you for your kind offer, but my family has been acquainted with the Bennets for generations. I am certain that when the time is right, Mr. Bennet and I shall speak.”
Sir William pressed his palms to his broad waist with a booming laugh. “Yes, yes, I am sure you will.”
All around them quieted as an unusual warmth filled Fitzwilliam’s chest and gooseflesh covered his neck. As he glanced around, those in attendance had all turned to greet a gentleman and his wife who had just entered the clearing. They were followed by five young ladies of varying age from a tall blonde who appeared to be the eldest, to a shorter, stout young lady near the back who could be no more than sixteen. The man was older and wore half-moon spectacles that were perched on the mid-point of his nose. On his arm was an attractive lady whose red curls framed her face well and who also seemed to enjoy being the spectacle of the moment. She nodded to her neighbours as she entered the circle.
“Ah, there is Bennet now. Good, we can proceed.”
While Sir William shuffled away, Fitzwilliam’s gaze flitted over the tall blonde who stood directly behind her mother, but he did not spare her a second glance. His gaze was drawn to the smaller lady to her side. Everything in him locked onto her. He could not look away.
She seemed petite to him, but he was six foot three. Most ladies were small when compared to his stature. Despite that the hood of her pristine white cape was up, her auburn curls could be discerned as they framed the edges of her face, and her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the setting sun.
Her head lifted a hair, and she frowned. As she turned in his direction, he remained rooted to the spot when their gazes collided. The warmth inside him burned a bit brighter, and gooseflesh now covered him from head to toe. He had never experienced anything similar to this. Did she feel that too, or was he alone in his response to her presence?
Their gazes held while her family shifted to the front of the group, Mr. Bennet taking his place behind the altar.
“Good evening. . .”
If Fitzwilliam had been asked later to repeat the ceremony and the words Mr. Bennet must have said before and after, the task would have been impossible. Oh, he turned to face north, south, east, and west with the rest of the group when the time came, but otherwise, he was completely distracted by the lady standing four feet ahead of him and slightly to his right.
Two or three times she turned and glanced at him, but never for long before she returned her attention to her father. As soon as the bonfire was lit to complete the ceremony, the families all set themselves on blankets to enjoy the feast, each family adding a dish for all to consume.
Fitzwilliam stood near the edge of the celebration until Elizabeth rose, her white cape making her easily identifiable as she entered the woods. He followed behind her at a slight distance while she wove through the trees until the white stag from earlier stood before her.
She approached the great beast without hesitation and stroked his head. “I know you are behind me. Why have you followed?” Despite her obviously speaking to Fitzwilliam, she remained petting the stag’s head, her back facing him.
“I thought perhaps you had cast his protection spell. Now I am certain of it.”
“What makes you believe I am capable of such magic?”
He stepped closer, so he could speak more freely. “Because I know you bear the mark of the Bennet heir on the inside of your arm, Elizabeth.”
She pivoted in place and quirked one eyebrow. “What makes you believe that?” Her voice was softer this time.
“Do you not know?”
Hesitant steps brought her to stand even closer. “If I indeed bear the birthmark you speak of, would my father not have declared it to the world by now?”
“Not if he wished to protect you for as long as possible.” She had not answered his question. Did she not feel in her bones who he was? He had been aware of her in an instant.
“And now you are meant to protect me as well, are you not?” So, she did know who he was.
“If you will allow it.”
“Do you mean I have a say? According to my father, I have no choice.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Does he know you are here?”
“He has not come to Netherfield to greet my friend Bingley yet, so I do not believe so. We are not faithful correspondents. We had no wish for the betrothal to be discovered as it could compromise your identity as the heir. You know as well as anyone that there are always those watching who would wish harm on those who wield their power for good. We could not be too careful.
“I confess I came in the hopes of catching a glimpse of you. My parents told me of you, but what they knew was mostly from your birth or tales your father and mine exchanged when you were young.” He often had dreams of her: when she felt strongly about something. A number of times, he had seen bits of their future. Visions of what was to come could change, so as much as he had come to anticipate those sights, he did his best to tame his heart—to tame his expectations and not become attached to her or what he saw. He refused to be heartbroken if she decided against him.
“Pray, do know that I believe this marriage would be what is best for the both of us, but I would not have you marry me for no more than obligation.”
She scraped her teeth along her bottom lip. “You are giving me a choice about whether I marry you?”
“Yes. And I assure you, I shall abide by your decision. You will always have any support and protection the Darcy family can provide. The bond of our families demands no less.”
She removed her glove and held out her hand, palm facing him. He nodded and stepped forward, so they were almost toe to toe. He removed one glove and drew back one side of his cloak. When she placed her hand over his heart, he covered it with his own.
Her gaze held his, though his body trembled at the surge of magic that accompanied her palm against his clothing as well as their ungloved hands. While she was now determining the truth of his heart, would this sensation occur every time they touched?
After a few minutes, she drew back. “I should like some time to consider what I shall do.”
With a nod, he put on his glove. “Am I allowed to do what I must to convince you of my suit?”
One side of her lips curved. “You hope to court me when you hardly know me?”
He shrugged. “Is it not the standard practice—to court a lady with the intention of coming to know her? You must be aware that I have my own reasons.” He would not speak to her of the visions he had seen—at least not yet.
“You will not disclose those reasons to me?” Her arms were again crossed over her chest while she spoke, but the barely there smile and the tilt of her head indicated more of a playfulness to her stance rather than a true challenge. His own lips quirked at her manner.
“No, I believe your continuing curiosity will be to my benefit.”
She bestowed a full smile upon him, and the effect was similar to the sun emerging from the clouds on a dreary day. “Very well. I suppose I shall allow you your secrets—for now.”
Without another word, she turned and began her return to the stone circle. His heart and soul pulled for him to follow, but he had done what he had intended—more, really. He had never meant to speak to her tonight, but fate had intervened. Now he must decide how to woo the fair Elizabeth Bennet.
~ *~
Elizabeth returned to her family and attempted to behave as though naught had happened when she entered the woods. Her father knew well that she would venture into the trees to seek out Herne, but meeting that gentleman was not what she had anticipated before departing Longbourn this evening.
Her insides had been tumbling and fluttering more and more as she approached the stone circle, and when they had entered the clearing, her entire body had erupted in gooseflesh. Had he experienced the same response to her proximity? She had never heard of the like happening before. What had caused such a response this evening?
The Darcy family held a history of powerful magic. Could her body have sensed the additional power? She never had such a reaction to her father’s presence, but she had been with him since birth. They were accustomed to the magic that radiated from each other.
The oddest part of the encounter had been that, even from the moment she set eyes on him, she had been acutely aware of who he was. No explanation existed for how, yet every tiny part of her screamed out that he was Fitzwilliam Darcy, the man she was supposed to wed. One thing was certain: he had not lowered the cape, but what she could discern of his face was pleasing. He was handsome and tall. Was it strange that she now longed to know what he looked like without the cape? He appeared as though he was broad shouldered and likely muscular. Why did that make her chest flutter more than it already had been?
Her father, who had been speaking to Sir William Lucas, glanced over at her and lifted one of his eyebrows. Did he know she would be approached tonight? Thank God he could not read the direction of her thoughts!
“Miss Elizabeth, your father was telling me you have made a study of your family history. ’Tis fascinating, is it not? It is no wonder the non-magical have been creating tales of Merlin and the Lady of the Lake for centuries.”
She smiled and shrugged as she joined the two gentlemen. “If only they had all of the particulars. I believe the truth to be more fascinating than anything that has been written thus far. Of course, my ancestor did not want a few of the specifics immortalised, lest the lady herself know of our existence before her demise.”
Sir William’s head jolted a bit to the side. “Forgive me, but I see Mr. Goulding. We need to discuss the matter of the spring that runs along the border of our properties.”
“No good will come of arguing over the matter, Lucas,” said her father. “I suggest the two of you agree to get along and share the magic. That spring is given freely by the earth for all to use. Its bounty is not meant to be owned and hoarded by one man. Those who share without reserve reap the benefits in the long run.”
The portly gentleman nodded in a twitchy manner. “Yes, I am sure you are correct. I shall attempt to smooth matters over with Goulding.”
As soon as the man was across the clearing, her father leaned in a hair. “Do you believe him?”
“Not in the slightest.”
Her father groaned and wiped his hand over his face. “The people of Meryton have used that spring for potions for centuries.”
“It would be a tragedy to have to hide it.” Magical springs often disappeared. No sooner had the Fountain of Youth been discovered in the Americas than it had been hidden because all and sundry sought it out as word spread of its existence.
He nodded while he glanced around them. “The hour is becoming late, and many are beginning to depart. We should as well.” He looked at her over his spectacles. “I do expect you to tell me what occurred with that young man who followed you from the stones.”
She arched her one brow at him. “Do you not know who he is?”
He offered her his arm. “I am certain I do, but I should prefer to hear it from you.”
Of course, he would, and he would not relent until she told him all.
I dove into some different research when I wrote The Unexpected Heir. My boss is into magical lore and Dungeons and Dragons, so we had several discussions while coaching about some of the magical theories. One discussion that stuck with me was ley lines, and I played with the concept for The Unexpected Heir, so I thought I would give you some background on why I described magic and its source as I did in the book.
So, what is a ley line?
The term “ley line” was coined by archaeologist Alfred Watkins during the 1920s. The theory is that ley lines are lines of energy that connect landmarks, such as megaliths and ancient monuments, across the Earth. For example, you could have a ley line that connected Stonehenge to Macchu Pichu or the Egyptian Pyramids. In fact, many of these sites sit at a convergence of more than one line. This really wasn’t a new concept since in 1870, William Henry Black made the claim that the monuments all over western Europe were connected by geometric lines.
Alfred Watkins first proposed these existed after noticing that the footpaths connecting the hilltops in Herefordshire all lay in straight lines, and when looking back, a lot of the old roads were formed in straight lines and people using hills and various landmarks to find their way through what was once a dense forest. More recently, the British Museum’s Reginald Smith and Captain Robert Boothby are said to have linked ley lines with underground streams and magnetic currents. Some believe you can find ley lines by metaphysical means, including using a pendulum or dowsing rods, which are L or Y shaped rods that are made to turn in your hand.
If you look at many of the sites linked to ley lines, they are all either mystical in some way or holy by a culture’s religion.
In The Unexpected Heir, I could not use the term ley line since it did not originate until the 1920s, so I used “veins” as the source of magic. However, I do not describe the veins as being a grid-like thing. I took some liberties with the theory. For example, the stone circle in Oakham Forest where Elizabeth walks lies on the same vein as Stonehenge. Nine Ladies is mentioned as being near Pemberley, but that stone circle runs on a different vein of magic running through the earth. The different veins can have slightly different properties, so you may find the magic from one vein lends well for certain charms and a different vein may lend well to others. I do not delve into this too much, but it is mentioned usually in conversation between Darcy and Elizabeth.
In this book, I have played with this theory as well as taken some liberties with an old Arthurian legend, in which Merlin was in love with the Lady of the Lake. She tricked him into teaching her his magic, then used what she had learned from him to trap him into a tree forever. Incorporating all of this made writing the book a lot of fun. I hope you enjoy the story as well!
Release day is my 27th wedding anniversary: July 11, 2025!
Prologue
21 December 1791
“I can see the head! Keep pushing, Frances. He is almost here, and he has a full head of thick auburn hair.”
Anne’s hand smarted as her friend bore down with an ear-splitting scream, the babe slipping into the waiting grasp of the midwife as though the entire process had been the product of minutes and not the long interminable hours that had actually occurred. The woman began to vigorously rub the babe, bringing forth a cry that was, no doubt, heard throughout the house.
“Is it the heir?” asked Frances, her tone urgent.
The midwife smiled. “You have a beautiful daughter.”
Frances’s face crumpled. “What? No! This child was supposed to be the heir! What am I going to do with another girl?” Anne’s heart sank. She would have been grateful for any child, but Frances had always been fickle. Still, how could anyone not cherish an innocent babe?
The midwife caught Anne’s eye and pointed to a distinct mark on the inside of the child’s arm. Anne gasped. “I shall clean her up and bring her to her father.” Without another word, she took the babe to a table near the fire where she wiped away the remnants of the birth. She turned the child’s arm to run a finger over the mark. How was this possible? By all that was known, this was impossible. She shook her head. All she could do was take the little girl to her father and hear his opinion on the matter, so she swaddled her in clean warm blankets. Anne could not help but give a tiny laugh. The wide-eyed little one watched her so intently. She almost seemed to be taking her measure while Anne cared for the infant. She had never seen such an alert newborn.
Once the babe was presentable, Anne gathered her up but paused on the way to the door. “She is truly beautiful. Would you care to hold her?” When Frances turned the opposite direction without uttering so much as a “no,” Anne’s heart split and bled. She looked down upon the small child in her arms. The poor dear! She had done nothing—except being born a girl.
As Anne departed and made her way down the narrow stairs, the babe’s eyes were still open and alert. She brushed her finger down the child’s soft cheek. How could anyone not love a baby? Anne had to shove the stirring in her stomach back down where it belonged. She and Frances had been friends for years now, but at this moment, Anne had to forcibly resist the urge to return to the bedchamber and shake the woman. Why was Frances so recalcitrant?
When Anne reached the library, she knocked and was bid enter.
Henry Bennet and Anne’s husband, George, jumped to their feet as soon as she stepped inside. “Well?”
She smiled. “You have a beautiful daughter.” She held her breath in her lungs while she awaited Bennet’s response.
He did no more than frown. “But I saw—”
“She bears the birthmark,” said Anne.
Both gentlemen gasped. “Are you certain?” asked Bennet, who hurried forward.
She handed the child to the father and with great care, showed him the four-point star on the inside of the babe’s left arm.
“A female has never borne the mark in any family.” Bennet’s voice was low, as though he whispered to himself.
“She will require protection,” said George. “A lady with the abilities of a man will be sought after—will be in great danger from those who would wish to use her for their own purposes.” A pang ripped through her. Her husband was correct of course. This child would not have an easy time of it. Those who understood the meaning of the mark would do anything to marry her into their families by whatever means necessary.
Bennet dropped back into his chair and stared at his new daughter. “My God. What am I going to do?”
George wagged a finger and took the chair across from his friend. “Do not despair just yet. I think I may have a solution.”
It’s been a busy spring of proofing audiobooks for me, but all has settled with the recent release of A Novel Holiday and the soon to be release of It’s Always Been You (Book 1 of The Wedding Planners).
For those who have not heard the sample of A Novel Holiday. Check it out below!
For those who enjoyed The Wedding Planners, It’s Always Been You is approved for final review and should be coming soon! I’ve found another new voice, Christine Beyhmer to perform Ellie and Will’s story. I hope you enjoy the sample!
To celebrate, I’m giving away 3 audiobook codes to 3 commenters. Make sure you tell me which book you’d like to win!
