Category: Preview
-
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 🙂
Now, onto Chapter 3!
1st October 1811
“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.”
Tell me what you think!!
-
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.
Now! Since we’re on Chapter 2, if you missed the prologue, click here; Chapter 1, click here.
21st of September 1811
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.
[1] The name of one of King Arthur’s warhorses.
[2] A feast held around the equinox by the Druids. Pronounced Mah-bon in British English.
I’d love to hear what you think!
-
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.”
Chapter 1 will be posted soon!
Sources:
https://www.learnreligions.com/ley-lines-magical-energy-of-the-earth-2562644
https://prehistoric.org.uk/standing-stones/ley-lines/ -
Hi all! I’ve got a new one coming out December 1st! I love a good modern when I’ve been in a Regency writing bout, and other than Catching Lizzy late last year, I’ve been eating, breathing, and writing Regency (and swimming) for a while now. A modern was long overdue!
If you missed the Prologue, it’s up on Austen Variations. Just click here!
If you’d like to follow along with my Pinterest Inspiration Board, click here!
To those who are sensitive to it, this book does contain some swearing and adult scenes.
October 11th (present day)-six months later
I stepped into the glittering ballroom and scanned those dressed in their finest tuxes and gowns while they milled around the room and gathered in small groups to chat about this or that. Waiters dressed in solid black wove through the guests with sparkling crystal glasses of champagne while a long oak bar along the right side of the enormous room beckoned to those who craved something stronger.
God, I missed Zio! While I held onto his arm, he would walk me through the room, whispering his scathing criticisms of those he disliked and ensuring I was introduced to those he tolerated. My uncle could navigate a room and avoid every pitfall and snake in the grass with an ease and grace I’d always envied.
Now, as I watched the crowd, my stomach was tight, and my fingers gripped my clutch so that the beading dug into my flesh without mercy. It wasn’t that I disliked parties, per se, but a charity gala with the supposed social “elite” wasn’t something I’d become accustomed to. Would I ever get used to this?
“Lizzy!” Marianne King, heiress to a magazine conglomerate, waved me to join her. We’d both gone to NYU; although, Marianne was a few years older than me and had gotten her degree in journalism. Her father had made her work for one of his magazines while in college, and as soon as she’d graduated, she was brought on staff. However, she’d busted her ass to make her way to editor-in-chief. While her father gave her the start, he wasn’t one to promote his own daughter over someone more qualified and had left it to the head of that magazine label to choose the new editor based on merit. Marianne had still earned the promotion. Her work over the years had spoken for itself.
I met her halfway, and she gave me a one-armed hug. “How are you doing? I’ve called, but I haven’t heard from you since the memorial service. I’m sorry for not making more of an effort.”
“I’m the one who should be sorry, Marianne. I’ve been so overwhelmed learning about the company and keeping up with the café that I’ve neglected everything but business. Until recently, it’s been all I can do to get into the bakery kitchen a couple of times a week. Thank heavens for Charlotte, my assistant—she’s been a godsend. She can bake everything we offer and direct the staff with no help from me, so she’s been running the bakery.” I’d met Charlotte Lu at Cordon Bleu in London, and we’d hit it off like we’d been friends for decades rather than a few months. She’d moved to New York after we’d both received our certificates. Zio hadn’t blinked at me hiring who I felt was the best person to be my right hand. In fact, after a ten-minute video call, he hadn’t hesitated to approve my choice.
“But you won’t be running both businesses day to day, will you? After all, the Buttercream Beanery was your brainchild, not your uncle’s.”
“The bookstore has a management staff. We’re in the process of mapping what will happen in the future. I will likely spend my mornings running the bakery and café, then spend an hour or two in the afternoon tending to some of the business of the bookstore. Zio didn’t spend much more than that. He’d delegated most of his responsibilities during the past ten or so years of his life. He just liked hearing the latest and being a part of the ordering decisions. He’d stayed on top of what was up and coming.”
“Just like you.”
I shrugged. “I do try, but I have to give my management team a ton of credit. We all keep our ears and noses to the ground for any rumor of something amazing coming down the pipeline.”
“I’m sure your uncle would’ve understood if you kept to the café and bakery side of the business.”
With a sigh, I shook my head. “I don’t know about that. After I had the café up and running, Zio brought me to these charity functions and insisted I meet everyone. He’d call me to the meetings where they discussed book orders and new releases. He’s been preparing me for this since he brought me into the business. I was just too blind to see his intentions for what they were.
“Did you know he bought a smaller building in the East Village and intended to open another store?”
Marianne’s forehead creased. “Are you going to carry through with his plans?”
“I don’t know,” I said and bit my bottom lip for a moment. “I feel like we’re sandwiched in by Pemberley Books. They own most of the big bookstores when you leave Manhattan. I don’t even know if I should make an attempt. I found out a month ago that they’ve been watching and waiting for me to fail so they can buy Novel Books for a song.”
“You’re kidding,” said Marianne. “How’d you even find that out?”
“My sister Jane of all people. When the lawsuit she’d filed in an attempt to gain part of Zio’s estate failed, she was furious and told me. I think it was for shock value, but you’d be proud of me. I didn’t so much as flinch.”
My long-time friend put a hand on my shoulder. “But you haven’t failed. From what I can tell, business is better than ever. I absolutely love the Halloween story time event you’ve started—and promoting it through the local schools was brilliant. My sister took my niece on Saturday, and she raved about it.” I’d mentioned the idea during one of our management meetings, and the idea had flourished from there. On weekends in the month of October, we had employees, children’s authors, and even actors who would dress to the theme of whatever book they were meant to read and set up in a corner of the children’s department. The turnout had been amazing. Every few hours, we had dozens of kids who would appear dressed as everything from a cat to a Marvel character to a terrifying witch.
“It’s been a lot of fun. I’m reading one of the weekends before Halloween. I can’t wait.”
Marianne glanced over my shoulder. “Oh, my father is giving me the ‘help’ signal. He’s been caught by Cruella de Bourgh.”
I laughed, and not so softly, at her name for Catherine de Bourgh. My uncle had mentioned Mrs. de Bourgh here and there. As anyone could imagine by the nickname, she was not known for her kindness.
“I haven’t met her yet.”
“Do yourself a favor,” said Marianne. “Make an effort not to.”
I held my breath so I wouldn’t snort in response as she kissed my cheek and rushed off. I pivoted on my heel glancing around the room. Marianne had stepped next to her father and was smiling and nodding to an imperious-looking woman with grey hair that was pulled back in a severe bun. She held a cane with one knobby hand while she dipped her chin with the air of a queen. Poor Marianne.
As I pivoted to take in the room, I sighed. This was the first event without Zio. Hopefully, I didn’t look as lost as I felt. I could do this!
I drew myself up and began walking toward the bar. I would pretend I owned the place—I would act as though I was in the café, except I’d never wear a couture evening gown in the café. My usual attire was leggings or jeans and a t-shirt when I was baking. If I worked the front, I usually wore jeans and a bakery polo. Now, standing here in a floor-length, fitted silver sheath gown with a halter neck and gunmetal beading, I was out of my depth. The vintage store down the street had called me the moment they’d gotten this piece, and I couldn’t argue with the price—not when I could never bring myself to buy a similar dress brand new. Nothing was out of place with the gown. It was me who was convinced I shouldn’t be here.
After speaking briefly with two friends of my grandfather, I searched for the ladies’ room. Maybe a moment with fewer people around would allow me to gather myself. I used the facilities and washed my hands before stepping in front of one of the large mirrors to ensure I had no toilet paper stuck to my heel, or my seam wasn’t hopelessly twisted around my body.
I took one more deep breath, exhaled, and opened the door to step into the large corridor. I’d taken no more than a couple of steps when I was bumped into from behind. My foot slipped to the side on my strappy heels, and my hands shot out to brace myself as I fell. However, the blow never came. Instead, strong arms wrapped around me, and the next thing I knew, I was hauled back to my feet.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve been looking where I was going.”
A pain shot through my ankle, and I winced. “It was an accident. No harm, no foul, you know.”
The man straightened from picking his phone and my clutch up from the carpet, and my entire body froze at the first glimpse of his crystal blue eyes. Holy hotness, Batman! No sooner had he handed me the clutch than I clenched it to keep from fanning myself.
“Are you hurt?” His watered-down English accent washed over me. I could’ve melted at the mellow baritone he possessed, but instead, I cleared my throat and glanced down to my feet.
“I don’t think so.” I took a step back and almost lost my balance when my foot slid from the sole of my shoe. My arms nearly burst into flames when he steadied me.
I lifted my foot. “One of the straps on my heel broke. I can’t wear them like this.” I started to hobble over to a chair, and he wrapped an arm around me to steady me.
When I sat and began to remove both shoes, he backed up a little. “You mean don’t mean to walk around the gala with bare feet, do you?”
“You act like the floors are filthy. Besides,” I cupped my hand like I was going to tell him a secret, “they’ll be hidden by my dress. No one will know.” I’d stage whispered in a tone that would’ve made my mother proud.
His eyebrows lifted while I unbuckled the straps on the good shoe. I’d had these heels for a few years and had used them often since silver matched just about everything. I suppose they were doomed to fail at some point. The timing was unfortunate, but what could I do? It wasn’t like I had a spare pair of shoes in my tiny clutch. I’d also break my ankle if I tried to wear them around the gala.
“Why even carry one of those? They seem rather useless?”
When I looked up, he was pointing to my bag that sat next to me on a side table. Although, it was more of a case since it had a clasp and wasn’t soft. “I have an ID, a little cash, a credit card, and some lip gloss in case of emergency.”
“Lip gloss,” he said dryly.
“No self-respecting girl would leave home without it.”
I stood once I’d taken off my heels and grabbed my clutch. As soon as I’d tossed the shoes in a gold trash can near the ladies’ room door, I ensured my feet were hidden by the hem of my gown. “See, no one will know.”
He stared down at where my bare feet were concealed. “This is all my fault. I know it won’t make up for the shoes, but can I buy you a drink?”
I squashed my inner teenager who was jumping up and down at the hot guy offering her a drink. She would ruin everything. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
When he held out his arm for me to take, I bit my cheek. A gentleman? How many men offered their arm these days? My uncle would’ve, but like I said, these days.
I slipped my hand into the crook, the expensive fabric of his coat tickling my palm. When we reached the bar, he waved down a bartender and leaned over to me. “What would you like?”
My eyes wandered over the selections. Zio and I always ordered Scotch at these functions, and it seemed appropriate to continue the tradition, particularly when my scan stopped on a familiar dark brown label. “The Balvenie seventeen-year double wood, please.”
Again, the man’s eyebrows shot up on his forehead. “You drink Scotch?”
“Mostly when I come to events like this,” I said, arching my brow to meet his look.
His lips quirked up on one side. “I’m Will.” He held out his hand.
“Just Will?”
One of his shoulders lifted. “For tonight, yes. If you don’t mind.” He leaned over the bar and ordered.
When he straightened, I tilted my head. “Then I’m Liz.” I couldn’t explain why I’d given him that nickname. No one called me Liz. My family had always called me Elizabeth, except for Zio, of course, and in England, everyone had called me Lizzy. I hadn’t minded. That was the beginning of a new life, so the change seemed appropriate. Now my friends and employees all called me Lizzy.
“So, how often do you come to these things?” asked Will.
A laugh spluttered from my chest. “I’m sorry, but was that meant to be a pick-up line?”
He frowned for a moment, then his expression lightened a little. “Not exactly. Call it genuine curiosity.”
“This is the first I’ve attended by myself. If I’m being honest, I miss the company and feel kind of lost on my own.”
The bartender put my drink beside me, and I curled my fingers around the glass, the familiar weight of it as I lifted soothing some of that unease in my chest.
“I suppose your excuse is better than mine.”
“What’s that?” Now my curiosity was piqued.
“I despise galas and balls and having to put on a polite face. I’d rather write a check and be done with it.” Will held his glass out, and I met it with mine. “To new acquaintances.”
“Not quite acquaintances you could say. It’s not like we’re giving each other much about ourselves.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I suppose if you consider identity, you’re correct. That doesn’t mean we aren’t sharing our true feelings on other matters.”
We both sipped our drinks, and I closed my eyes for a moment to savor the warm vanilla notes that lingered on my tongue. When my eyes opened, Will watched me with a strange look in his eyes.
“What is it?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing. Forgive me. I know very few women who drink Scotch much less seem to enjoy it as you just did.”
“Perhaps I have a more refined palate than most women you know.” I allowed a small smile. Yes, I was flirting just a bit. I couldn’t deny this man looked like he’d just stepped from the pages of a GQ tuxedo spread. The designer tux he was wearing fit him to perfection, and his mahogany curls were a little long but were swept back some, allowing a view of his handsome face. I could stare at him for hours—if I wouldn’t make an idiot of myself.
He glanced around the room. “The ballroom is becoming crowded. Would you like to go to the balcony?”
I tore my gaze from him to where people were beginning to gather around the bar. “Yes, I think I’d like that.”
He offered his hand to help me weave out of the crowd and held the glass door open for me when we exited the room. The cool air of the evening hit me, and I let it wash over my skin. The ballroom had become warmer since I’d arrived, which wasn’t surprising with the number of people who’d entered since I’d left for the ladies’.
“Are you cold?” He set down his drink on the stone balustrade and reached for the button on his coat.
“No.” I held out my hand for him to stop. “It’s nice out tonight. I promise I’m not cold.”
He nodded and picked up his drink. “You’ll tell me if that changes?”
“But if you give me your jacket, you’ll be cold.”
“I’d still be wearing a long-sleeved shirt. Your shoulders are bare. What kind of a gentleman would I be if I let them become goosebumped?”
I laughed. “Goosebumped? Is that a word?”
“I don’t know, but it is now.” He gave a full smile this time. He was attractive before, but with those dimples peeking from his cheeks, he was every woman’s book fantasy—the image in their mind of the handsome leading man. He’d be my perfect adult version of Gilbert Blythe—like after Gilbert and Anne married in Anne’s House of Dreams. God, I loved Gilbert!
Okay! Next Chapter comes on Wednesday with my sale announcement on Austen Variations! Don’t forget to stop by and check it out!
-
Happy Release Day!! Today is the release of Jane Montford (AKA Jane Bennet) and her duke. If you missed the first three chapters, you can read them at Austen Variations here: Chapter 1 or Chapter 2 or Chapter 3. Hurry over to Amazon as Worthy of her Love is now available in Kindle, Kindle Unlimited, and Paperback. That said, we’re continuing the preview with Chapter 4 today! Also, don’t forget to stick around for the end. That’s where the giveaway is!
Today, we’re attending the opera! I hope you packed your opera glasses!
Chapter 4
Friday 18th of March 1814
While Sutton wound the strand of pearls through her hair, Jane clenched her hands so she would not fidget. Tonight, her family was to attend the opera with the Duke of Albemarle; the very same gentleman who rushed to Richmond House a few days ago to retrieve his daughters. He was also the same gentleman whose hazel eyes sent a frisson through her when she had looked up to find him watching her with his intense stare. She had never experienced the like.
“Are you looking forward to the performance this evening, Miss?”
“I am indeed. I have heard Miss Catalani has a superior voice. I am eager to hear it.”
“Well, your hair is perfect, if I do say so myself. Come, let us put on the last of your gown.”
As soon as her overdress with the fern green bodice was fastened in the back, her maid handed her the ear drops to match her emerald necklace.
“I am certain you will render the duke speechless.”
With a smile, Jane shook her head. “He only made the invitation to thank us for being of aid to his daughters. I am certain he is simply being polite.” A duke would never consider her. She may have been the granddaughter of an earl, but a duke would not ignore the circumstances of her father—or his wife who had connexions to trade.
“I did tell you the duke’s wife died in childbirth with the youngest, did I not? That was almost three years ago according to Mrs. Taylor, who overheard a maid from his household speaking of it at the butcher’s. He is a man of great fortune in need of a male heir to inherit his title.”
Jane shook her head. “You sound like Mrs. Bennet. ‘A single man of good fortune is always in want of a wife.’ I believe she said those words when Mr. Bingley took possession of Netherfield.” Mr. Bingley! What a catastrophe that had been! He had departed Hertfordshire without a word—at least until he learnt of her connexions and fortune. She could only be thankful her grandfather prevented the young man’s pursuit. In the end, Mr. Bingley had been killed in a duel with the father of his mistress. She was better off without him.
“Oh, my. Mrs. Bennet really said that? From what I understand of the woman, I should be appalled, should I not?” Sutton had replaced the maid Jane had at Longbourn two years ago so had never met Mrs. Bennet.
“She was awful to Lizzy and could be embarrassing. I oft times pretended not to take notice of her behaviour. I wanted to believe she desired the best for us.”
Sutton winced. “I only meant to say the duke is an eligible prospect. Forgive me if I reminded you of memories you wished to forget.”
“No, all is well. I am certain he is a most eligible prospect, but I doubt he has any intention of courtship with me. I am certain a higher connected lady would be more to his choosing anyhow. Lizzy said often that she would be a spinster who taught my ten children to play the pianoforte very ill indeed. I am beginning to believe that will be my fate instead of hers.”
“You are such a handsome lady, Miss Montford. I am certain that could not be.”
With a forced smile, Jane pulled on her long gloves. “I do thank you for the compliment, yet I cannot deny what is. Gentlemen call once or twice then decide on another lady. In the past year, three have called upon me then wed the next lady they were rumoured to be calling upon—and Mr. Bingley did not want me for me…and then he died. Something is wanting, but I do not know what it is.” How she despised considering what was amiss—why so many gentlemen did not want her. Even now, her chest ached.
Sutton took her hands. “Naught is wanting but them. A gentleman will fall in love with you one day. I am certain of it.”
“I hope you are right.” Jane collected her reticule and glanced back over her shoulder at her maid before she departed the room. As she descended the stairs, voices filled the hall below. Mr. Gideon’s distinctive accent was one of them as well as her grandfather’s deep tone. The duke’s was the third, but she had never heard the last.
When she entered, her grandfather stood with the duke and another gentleman. When the duke turned his hazel eyes on her, that same sensation of falling filled her belly. She clutched her reticule so she would not press her palm to her stomach.
“You remember my granddaughter, Your Grace.”
“Of course.” He bowed. “Miss Montford, ’tis lovely to see you again.” The gentleman with the duke rapped him on the arm, making the duke slap his hand away. “Yes, yes, I have not forgotten about you. Miss Montford, may I present my brother Lord Charles Granville.”
She curtseyed. “I am pleased to meet you, Lord Charles.”
Lord Charles gave a wide grin while he bowed. “I assure you the pleasure is mine, Miss Montford. My dullard of a brother neglected to mention your beauty. I shall need to reprimand him for that oversight. The gentleman who has you on his arm this evening will be a fortunate man indeed.”
The duke chuckled and shook his head. “My brother is often insufferable. Should he become a bother, pray, let me know. I shall ensure he is properly humbled.”
Jane glanced between the two and could not help but let one corner of her lips tug upward. “I am certain Lord Charles will behave. If he does not, my cousin Lord Hatton is capable of insufferable behaviour as well, so I assure you I am accustomed to responding to inanity, and they will have company in their ridiculousness.”
“There you are,” said Lord Charles. “She will put me in my place should I deserve it. Does that satisfy you?”
With a laugh, her grandfather held out an arm towards the drawing room. “Perhaps we should be seated while we await the remainder of our party.”
“I am here, my dear,” said Grandmamma. When she reached Grandpapa, she looped her hand through his arm as was her wont. “Have Nicholas and Fiona not joined us yet?”
“You must forgive my grandson, Lord Charles. As I told your brother last we met, my grandson, Lord Hatton, and his wife were married late in the summer and still behave as though they were wed a month ago rather than a little more than six months ago.”
The duke nodded. “They are fortunate to have found such a match.”
Jane’s hands, which were joined at her reticule, held each other a bit tighter. “I agree. We should all be so fortunate as to find a love match.”
“Forgive us,” said Nicholas. He and Fiona were descending the stairs as he called. “The fault is my wife’s. I believe she changed her mind about her gown four times before allowing her maid to dress her.”
Fiona gasped and slapped her husband’s arm with her fan. “You are uncharitable as well as telling a falsehood. You were—” Fiona snapped her mouth shut and reddened. Jane pressed her lips together so she would not laugh. The pair had just confirmed her grandfather’s assertions.
“Will you introduce us, Lord Richmond?”
“Of course, Your Grace. Henry Granville, Duke of Albemarle, and Lord Charles Granville, may I present Nicholas Montford, Viscount Hatton, and his wife, Lady Fiona.”
After everyone bowed and curtseyed, the duke turned to Grandpapa. “Pray, you may call me Albemarle. Your family has proven to be a friend to mine. I see no reason to keep such formality between us.”
“I thank you.”
“I agree,” said Lord Charles. “I am exceedingly appreciative of Miss Montford’s actions in the park. My nieces might have been lost to us without her intervention.”
Jane waved her hand. “Pray, I do not deserve such praise. I was pleased to be of aid to them.”
The duke held out his arm towards the front door. “Shall we go?”
As soon as she stepped out into the cool air, she lifted her head much in the manner that Lizzy always had. Now that she was the only Montford cousin not wed, she led a certain solitary life and had learnt to appreciate many of Lizzy’s quirks. Jane was not necessarily lonely, but living under the same roof as two happy couples tended to leave one to their own devices at times.
“Miss Montford, perhaps you would prefer to ride with us?—with your grandmother or grandfather, of course.” Lord Charles shot a crooked grin at his brother as he spoke. “With it being just the two of us, we shall have the room.”
Her grandmother lifted her eyebrows. “Hugh, you should accompany Janey.”
“Come, Janey,” said Grandpapa. “Let us see how well sprung the carriage of a duke is.”
Her grandfather accompanied them while Nicholas and Fiona stepped toward the equipage with the Richmond crest along with Grandmamma. As soon as they were seated in the duke’s coach, she glanced around. The insides were not much different than her grandfather’s, although the fabric on the seats was plusher and they were more cushioned. “Not a great deal different.”
“Not at all, my dear,” he said.
“There! We shall be a very merry party on the ride,” said Lord Charles.
The duke entered and, once he was settled, rapped his walking stick on the ceiling.
Jane situated her reticule upon her lap. “I hope your daughters are well since their ordeal. Have you discovered what happened to your servants?”
Both the duke’s and his brother’s expressions altered. The younger’s lips flattened together while the duke shifted in his seat. “The girls’ governess was found after we returned home. She was beaten badly and left in a cluster of trees. We have yet to find the footmen.”
His brother cleared his throat. “We are particularly concerned one of the two may have been part of the scheme.”
“Not both?” asked her grandfather.
“One is quite devoted to my brother, who paid for a physician to attend the young man’s mother as well as gave her a position at his estate. His sister is also a maid at Albemarle House and just as loyal. We both consider it unlikely he was part of it, so we are more than a little concerned for why he has not reappeared.”
She pressed her hand to her chest. “I can imagine. He has no reason to defy you. I am grieved indeed to discover this was more than a simple misunderstanding.”
“Sutton and Matthew were wise to rush your return to Richmond House.” Grandfather spoke in low tones, yet not so soft the duke and his brother would not hear them.
“They were wise indeed,” said the duke.
The response to Jane’s question seemed to hang like a pall over the group until their coach approached the theatre. The gentlemen alighted, and when she made to step down, the proffered hand did not belong to her grandfather but to the duke.
“Your grandfather is helping your grandmother.”
Jane accepted the gloved hand, her insides a quivering mess. Once both of her feet were upon the firm surface of the road, she rested her hand upon the duke’s arm, which he had held out for her to take. What if he could discern the trembling of her hand upon his sleeve? How mortifying would that be?
“I hope you will forgive me for casting a dark cloud over the beginning of our evening.”
He shook his head while he led her towards the entrance. “You have done nothing that requires forgiveness. Your concern for my daughters does you credit. We would not be together tonight if you had not made pains to help them. Do not apologise for caring. Too many in this world care for none but themselves. ’Tis refreshing to meet a lady who would make such an effort for a stranger.”
Something about his tone made some of the disquiet in her settle, though only a small portion. “Truly, Your Grace, I never considered ensuring their well-being to be making any great effort on my part. Coming to their aid was what any decent person should do. Besides, they are lovely children, and I enjoyed spending the morning with them.”
“That is good,” he said, “because they have asked for you to visit them several times since. If you would prefer to not continue the acquaintance, I understand, but they—”
“I shall speak to my grandmother. When would be the best time to call, do you think?” They were such sweet little girls. How could she not want to spend time with them?
“Mornings would be best. As you are aware, Juliana naps in the afternoon, and she would be upset to know she missed you.”
Jane allowed a small smile. “I understand. If I was in her position, I would be upset if a visitor called and I slept through the excitement.”
“As it was, she was quite put out when she awoke to find herself at home. She was dismayed at not being able to say goodbye.”
The sweet dear! “Perhaps we can organise the particulars at dinner when my grandmother is present. I am certain she would allow me to come with Sutton, but I would not want to make a promise I cannot keep.”
“Do not make yourself uneasy. I would not have you make plans without your grandparents’ consent.”
When they entered the theatre, the lobby was filled to the brim with those awaiting the performance. Since the Season had just begun, most of the fashionable set had arrived in town during the last fortnight and that fact was certainly evident tonight. Lord Charles stood in front of them while her grandparents as well as Nicholas and his wife entered behind them. One of the duke’s servants took their coats and hastened away.
As they began to make their way through the throng, Jane stiffened as a great many of those in attendance turned their heads to stare in their direction. Some whispered to those around them, their audience expanding until most of the room made no effort to conceal their interest in the duke and his party.
“I fear I have yet to attend the theatre since my wife’s death. It seems I am a curiosity.”
Lord Charles peered over his shoulder. “Most have naught to consume their time besides gossip, as I am sure Miss Montford knows.”
They climbed the stairs to the floor with the boxes. The Marquess and Marchioness of Ormonde stood off to one side with a couple Jane did not recognise in addition to Lady Vranes, who dipped her head to acknowledge her. Both the marchioness and Lady Vranes were great friends of their family.
The low murmur from the level below filtered up the stairs, meaning the crowd had ceased their staring and likely returned to their discussions of the latest tittle-tattle, which now, without a doubt, included them.
“I hope you were not made uneasy by their scrutiny. I was remiss in not foreseeing this and warning you of the possibility. If you would prefer, we can await the performance in my box and away from the crush out here.” The duke’s warm breath coasted over her ear while he spoke sending a frisson through her. When had he leaned in? Before she could answer, Nicholas and Fiona accompanied by her grandparents stepped over to greet their friends. “Unless you would prefer to join your cousin—”
The duke’s gaze darted to the side, making Jane look over her shoulder. Who was the gentleman? Something about him was familiar, but she had never met him before in her life.
“Forgive me,” said the duke. “I was saying unless you would prefer to mingle with your cousin and his wife.”
Lord Charles leaned closer to his brother. “What the devil is Simon doing here?”
“We knew he was in town. Miss Catalani is a renowned soprano, and this was certain to be a major event. I should have considered that he would attend.” The duke turned once again so his mouth was not far from her ear. “Our brother is standing by the refreshments. We are not close, and I hope you will forgive my forwardness when I say this, but he is not to be trusted.”
She allowed her gaze to dart once more in the direction of the gentleman of whom they spoke. Now that she had a second look, the familiarity she could not dismiss was the resemblance between him and his brothers. They all had similarly shaped eyes and their noses possessed an identical appearance, even if Lord Charles’s nose was slightly larger than the other two men.
“I appreciate your warning, Your Grace. You can be assured that I shall remember your words.”
Okay, one and all, I’m giving away 3 ebook copies of the Worthy of her Love to 3 lucky winners! Just leave me a comment below for the drawing.
Don’t forget to go read as well! Kindle and Paperback links are here! The paperback cover is below!
-
Yes, I have no patience, but I figure no one will argue when I just up and release a book without warning. Catching Lizzy came out on Friday, and I’m thrilled with the feedback I’ve received so far. It’s not a long story, but it was just the light-hearted romp I needed after a few Regency stories in a row. The first reviews and ratings are in and it seems a lot of people enjoyed a low-angst feel good tale for the holidays.
“L.L. Diamond has once again treated her readers to a delightfully feel-good story, that starts out with a hilarious situation followed by an unforgettable introduction. The story is funny, romantic, steamy, and sentimental. I got teary a couple of times, but only in joyous kind of way.” – Marie, Goodreads
“Who doesn’t love a sweet holiday romance Darcy and Lizzy, his adorable 3-year-old, her BFF Richard…and kittens! “ – mainmom5, Amazon
Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, ladies!!
For those who have read or or going to read, I have a Pinterest inspiration board I used when writing. You can see the inspiration for Lizzy’s wedding gown and other fun bits. I love Pinterest when I’m writing. There’s no end to the fun stuff, not to mention inspiration, you can find.
So, I’m still previewing Chapter 3 for those who haven’t read the story yet. If you haven’t read Chapter 1 or Chapter 2, click the links. After, I’m offering 3 ebooks of Catching Lizzy for 3 lucky winners, so don’t forget to comment to enter the drawing.
Happy reading!
Chapter 3
I pulled into the long driveway and followed the winding path until we reached the house. After two hours on the road, Lizzy had awakened, and her semi-sober state had been too much. The bottle of Patròn now contained less than half, and my best friend was a giggling, crying mess—albeit rarely at the same time. She would one moment say something that made her start laughing hysterically, and the next, she would mention Faith or Jane or some other devastating consequence of today and dissolve into sobs.
As we drew up to the garage, her eyes perked up. “Oooh, pretty.” Even I had to admit, my cousin’s house was impressive with the long, wooded driveway and its situation facing out over the lake. She hadn’t even seen the main façade of the property yet.
“Grab the garage door opener out of the glove compartment, please.”
Lizzy fumbled with the latch for a moment before the door dropped, and she startled. She brought the controller closer to her face and concentrated on the gadget like the fate of the free world depended on her pressing the button. After two attempts, the door opened.
After she tossed the controller back into the glove compartment, she relaxed back into the seat and raised the bottle of Patròn to her lips yet again. Shit! I needed to slow her down. My cousin was going to have kittens!
As soon as I had the truck inside, I reached over and took the bottle. “Whoa! Let’s slow down. I don’t want to have to carry you.”
“You want some tequila?” She pushed the open bottle in front of my face. The familiar tang made my nose crinkle. I’d had a particularly bad experience with tequila a few years ago after a breakup. Other than the occasional margarita, I never touched the stuff.
“No, but why don’t you let me hold it for you?”
Thankfully, she passed the bottle of clear liquid over to me without argument, then peered down at her lap. “Where’s my phone?”
“You threw it out the window a couple of hours ago. Don’t you remember?”
She snorted and covered her nose for a moment. “Oh, yeah.” A fit of drunken giggles made her bend over at the waist.
I hopped out to plug in the truck before making my way to her side of the vehicle. When I opened the passenger-side door, she all but fell on me, and I grabbed her to steady her on her feet. “Come on, let’s get you some water and a bed.”
“I’m not ready to go to sleep yet. I have to finish the bottle of tequi… tequil… tequila.”
“Sweetheart, I really don’t want to make a trip to the ER tonight. Why don’t we save the tequila for in the morning?” I’d be pouring it down the drain tonight, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Good idea, Dickie. I knew there was a reason I kept you around.” She lightly slapped her palms on my chest before she turned toward the door.
I had an arm around her back as I supported her on unsteady legs into the house. “You keep me around because I’m your best friend. Who else will you get to shop with you for the perfect dress?”
“Not Faith! She doesn’t like my fashion sense.”
“Yes, well, Faith is a dumbass with an unhealthy addiction to lace.”
Lizzy buried her nose in my neck and snort laughed. If I hadn’t already known she was wasted, that would’ve been a sure sign. “Did you see the suit she bought for the wedding?” Her head lolled onto my shoulder while she looked at me.
“I did. She looked like a baby blue doily.”
My friend grinned. “Lace blouse, lace covered coat, and lace covered skirt. There’s nothing Faith can’t find in lace. It’s an evil superpower.”
No, Faith’s evil superpower was taking a beautiful and talented woman and reducing her to a self-conscious, approval-seeking mess. As much as Lizzy knew the truth for herself, I wasn’t going to beat her over the head by bringing all that up. She had to make the decision to stop allowing herself to be her mother’s punching bag once and for all, and I would be her staunchest supporter when that day came. I could only hope this was finally that day!
When we reached the living room, Will Darcy, my cousin, stood with his arms crossed over his chest, the forbidding expression he was famous for pasted upon his face. “Richard, what in the hell is going on?”
Lizzy dragged her head up. “Dickie, who’s the hottie with the stick up his ass? That scowl might just scare Faith, it’s so good.”
I fought to keep from laughing when Will’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “You brought one of your drunk friends to my house?”
“It’s a long story. Which room can I put her in?”
“Are you sure she’s not going to vomit?”
I glanced down at Lizzy, whose eyes appeared as though she was having a difficult time staying awake, but so far, she had no green around the gills. “I think she’s fine at the moment, but Mrs. R.’s puking pot would certainly not be refused.”
Will’s jaw clenched and released. “Georgie’s upstairs, so you’ll need to bring her to a hotel.”
“It’s after eight! Georgie’s asleep like the rule-following little mini-me she is. By the time your daughter wakes in the morning, Lizzy’ll be sober, and no doubt, nursing one heck of an alcohol and emotional hangover.”
“Lizzy? You mean the Lizzy?”
“Yes, the one you refused to ever meet.”
My cousin’s foot began to tap in a furious rhythm upon the wood floor. “Because you were attempting to set us up. Don’t get any ideas, Richard. I’m not interested.”
“Why would I want to be fixed up with a tight ass like you?” Lizzy swayed with a finger pointing at Will’s chest. “Geez, and I thought Bill could be a prick.” She flounced the skirt of her dress, then giggled again. “These bows are the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Is she wearing a wedding gown?”
“What an astute observation! Yes, it’s a wedding dress. She ran out on her wedding today and needed a friend to help her get away so she could think. I brought her here because you’ve said I’m always welcome, and this is the perfect place for her to gain some perspective on her life. Now, can I take her upstairs before I have to carry her?”
“I don’t feel so good.”
This time, when I glanced down, she was green. Fuck!
Before I could shuffle her into the half-bath down the hall, she folded over at the waist and puked all over my cousin’s bare feet. Will squeezed his eyes closed, his nose scrunched, and his lips pressed tightly together.
“Will—”
“Take her upstairs. Second door on the left. That room has an en-suite. You won’t be able to leave her alone tonight. She’ll need someone to watch over her to make sure she doesn’t get sick in her sleep. But I do want to talk to you after you get her settled in.”
We turned at a gasp to my cousin’s nanny/housekeeper standing in the doorway. “Oh, sir! I’ll be back in a moment with some towels.”
Lizzy slumped against me, and I groaned. “Crap! I guess I’m carrying her now.”
-
A Gentleman of Worth is out on Kindle, KU, and paperback! With my daughter’s graduation and relatives over, I uploaded the books and released them when I had the chance!
l’m so excited to have Anthony and Amelia’s love story out there for everyone to read. So if you haven’t seen the blurb, I will put it below. Or if you just want to read about Anthony and Amelia, just click on the link to get your own copy or read it on KU!
If you missed the previews here, just follow the links to the first 4 chapters posted at Austen Variations!
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, and Chapter 4.
Now! For the blurb!
As the granddaughter of the Earl of Richmond, Lady Amelia Montford is never in want of dance partners. Even though she finds the gentlemen tedious, she is always guaranteed good company for one set—her dance with the agreeable and handsome Sir Anthony Greene. Despite falling madly in love with the dashing baronet during her first Season, Sir Anthony has become a devoted friend and confidante. Yet of late, he has behaved oddly and has even declared he is attached to a lady! Amelia is dumbfounded. Sir Anthony claims he is in love with her? No, he could not be, not after all this time. She loved him once, but he broke her heart all those years ago. How is it possible to fall in love with someone a second time, with her best friend?
Sir Anthony Greene had not expected Amelia to react with such shock to his revelation. Worse, when it is bandied about London that he had an assignation in the garden with her at the Marquess of Ormonde’s ball, her reputation is in tatters, so they must marry. He finds himself resigned to a life with a lady he loves but who considers him no more than a friend in return! Such an existence will be a torture!
In the meantime, an old lover of Anthony’s father returns to town. Lady Lincoln holds secrets that can unravel any progress Anthony has made in his quest to win Amelia’s heart. Can Anthony thwart Lady Lincoln’s attempts to ruin his hopes of gaining Amelia’s regard? Can he prove himself a gentleman of worth?
Now to celebrate the release, I’m giving away 2 Kindle ebooks! Just comment below to enter! I can’t wait to read your comments and answer questions. Well…most questions 😉 I’m not giving spoilers!!
-
Happy Monday! October 21st is coming quickly so don’t forget to preorder your copy of His Perfect Gift! If you’d like a sneak peek before publication, I’m putting up a few chapters prior to the 21st at Austen Variations. You can read Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 and I’ll be posting Chapter 3 this Friday! My working blurb is:
A reacquaintance with Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Christmas in London, what could go wrong?
Fitzwilliam Darcy is a man torn between choices. Having fled Hertfordshire with the singular goal of separating himself from the fine eyes and pert opinions of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he finds himself face to face with her in London through a connection he never would have expected. He would like to abandon his reservations and court Miss Elizabeth, but other considerations are holding him back, including his family and friends, who might consider him honour-bound to another.
Following Mr. Bingley’s abrupt departure from Netherfield, Elizabeth Bennet accompanies her sister Jane to London to visit her aunt and uncle. A sudden reunion with the disagreeable Mr. Darcy is not in her plans, but the man she discovers is not the same one who insulted her so grievously at the Meryton Assembly. Instead, a doting brother and amiable gentleman calls upon her in Cheapside.
A quiet Christmas at Gracechurch Street with her aunt and uncle seemed ideal, but the inclusion of Mr. Darcy brings old acquaintances and conflicts neither expected.
Can Mr. Darcy convince his family and friends to choose Elizabeth? Could Elizabeth turn out to be his perfect gift?
I can’t wait for everyone to finally read it!
In other news! I have a few books that I removed from KU to give others a chance to purchase them in other formats. At the moment, Confined with Mr. Darcy, The Earl’s Conquest, It’s Always Been You, and He’s Always Been the One can be read on Nook, Oyster, Scribd, and iBooks. I attempted to move Undoing as well, but the distributor refused to approve the formatting for distribution. I have the letters formatted correctly, but they don’t like the spacing and want the letter completely clumped together, which makes the designer in me cringe. I apologize. I may try again in the future, but for the moment, I put Undoing back in KU.
I hope to start having new content back up here soon! In the meantime, stay happy and healthy!
Leslie xx
-
Rain and Retribution Today, I have an excerpt from my first book, Rain and Retribution. I have been asked over the years to have an audiobook produced for this story, so I’m chuffed to bits to tell you I’ve found a narrator! Alexandra Lee Smith has accepted my offer and seems excited to get going. Due to the length of the book, the release will not be for a couple of months, but there will be a release!
Now, to get to that excerpt!
Elizabeth could hear the hustle and bustle of the people in Meryton, and was relieved when the noise of the town died away, leaving only the sound of the creaking cart. Mr. Hill let her know that she could come out from under the cover since the road was clear; however, it was not long after when it began to rain.
Unfortunately, Elizabeth did not have any protection from the weather, and the cover over the cart did not offer any barrier from the wet and the cold. As a result, she quickly became completely soaked through and began to shiver due to the chill of the late November storm. The rain increased in intensity and the road quickly became muddy. Without warning the wagon pitched to one side, causing her to be thrown off balance into the side of the cart.
“Blast!” swore Mr. Hill. “Oh! I apologize, Miss Lizzy!” he exclaimed, as he suddenly remembered Elizabeth’s presence.
She jumped down, splashing mud all over her dress and petticoats. Her situation was not good—it was not good at all! Hatfield was miles away, the rain showed no signs of stopping, and she was cold and filthy. Mr. Hill quickly ascertained that the cart had fallen into a deep rut made impossible to see with the water pooling in the road. Not only was the wheel stuck, but it was also broken.
They were not too far out of Meryton, and Mr. Hill decided to walk back in order to find shelter and someone to help, but he refused to leave her there in the weather. Elizabeth began to panic; she certainly could not return to Meryton. She argued that she would find a spot under a tree to wait out the storm; yet, he would not be moved. She was finally forced to acquiesce, and was waiting for Mr. Hill to unhitch the horse for the walk back when a carriage appeared through the sheets of rain. Elizabeth could not identify the equipage, but vehemently prayed it was not someone who would return her to Longbourn.
~ * ~
Darcy had been staring out at the rain, trying not to contemplate the fine eyes of Elizabeth Bennet, when he noticed a cart to the side of the road that seemed to be having difficulty. As they moved closer to the broken down cart, he thought he saw Elizabeth standing a short distance away from the wreck. He shook his head as if to clear it.
“Good Lord, now I am seeing her everywhere!” he exclaimed, not believing his eyes.
Normally, Darcy would have stopped to help, but Meryton, the last place he wished to be, was still the closest town, so he decided to keep moving. Yet, as they began to pass, he could not help but take a closer look at the young woman standing next to the road. She had a petite frame with a light and pleasing figure, which could only remind him of Elizabeth. However, he could not make out her face, and found himself mesmerized as he watched her peel the soaked bonnet off of her drenched chestnut curls. He was willing to swear that it was Elizabeth Bennet.
“Blast!” he cursed as he beat his walking stick against the roof of the carriage. He had to be sure. If indeed it was her, his conscience would not allow him to simply leave her out in the dreadful weather.
The carriage had barely skidded to a halt when Darcy burst forth before the groom could open the door, striding to the young woman who looked up and startled him to a stop. He could not believe his eyes; he was dumbfounded. Elizabeth Bennet was truly standing before him, sopping wet, her dark curls plastered to her face, her piercing emerald green eyes betraying her shock at his arrival. He took a few hesitant steps to stand in front of her.
“Miss Bennet,” he said as he noticed that her clothes were wet through and she was shivering from the cold.
“Mr. Darcy,” she replied. She was trying very hard not to be intimidated by his six-foot plus frame, which seemed to tower over her, his vivid blue eyes visible even through the heavy rain.
“I was passing and noticed that you were stranded. May I be of assistance?”
Elizabeth could not believe he had stopped, much less offered his aid. “Mr. Hill was conveying me to the post station in Hatfield when the cart became stuck and the wheel broke. We were just preparing to walk back to Meryton when you happened upon us.”
“Please allow me to be of assistance. You are cold and need to get out of the rain. We can take shelter in my carriage while we discuss your options?”
“Mr. Darcy, you are perfectly aware that it would not be proper for me wait in your carriage with you,” she objected. Although she desperately wanted to be out of the weather, she knew that Mr. Darcy had only ever looked at her to find fault. Jumping into his carriage at the offer he surely felt obligated to make, especially as wet as she was, would most certainly not improve his opinion of her.
“You will catch your death in this rain,” Darcy implored, becoming concerned at her increasing pallor and shivers. “I promise you will be perfectly safe with me—unless you think your servant will gossip, because I assure you, mine will not.”
His statement affronted Elizabeth and she became defensive. “No, Mr. Hill will not say a word, but I am soaked through, and I really do not believe that you want me in your carriage.”
“I would not make the offer, if I did not mean for you to accept.”
Elizabeth still had reservations, but she nodded. “Thank you.” She turned to remove her valise from its hiding place within the cart and startled when Mr. Darcy took it from her, immediately passing it to a servant before he hurried to assist Elizabeth into the carriage. Once inside, he pulled some rugs from under the seat.
“If you remove your pelisse, you can dry off as much as possible and warm yourself with these.”
She nodded just before he turned his back to her, so she could remove the drenched garment without exposing her wet form to him. When she had dried as much as she could with one of the smaller rugs, she wrapped herself in the two largest and turned to face him. She noticed that while he had become wet, he was not as soaked as she was. He had not been in the rain for long in addition to being protected by his greatcoat, which he had since removed.
Elizabeth was not sure why Mr. Darcy was being so kind to her; he had always been so proud and aloof. After all, he had insulted her at the Meryton Assembly. He practically oozed disdain whenever he was in company with her family, so why would his manner change so drastically?
Upon indicating that she was covered, he turned and regarded her curiously. She was so cold and wet that he did not expect her to refuse his offer, and now she seemed so cautious. Was she afraid of him? Did she think he would become angry if she soaked the upholstery?
“If you tell me where you are going, I can transport you there, so you do not have to venture back into this horrid weather.”
“I am traveling to my uncle’s house in Cheapside,” she said, waiting to see a reaction to her destination. “Mr. Hill had to run an errand in Hatfield and was delivering me to the post station, so I could take the next post to London. The rain stalled us.”
Darcy pondered his dilemma. He could not strand Miss Bennet here, and he did not feel it was prudent to leave her at the post station alone. However, could he ride in a carriage—alone with her—and not lose his head? He was worried about being in such close proximity to her for the trip to London, yet there did not seem to be much choice in the matter.
“I am en route to London now and would be pleased to escort you.”
“Sir, I appreciate your offer, but it would be an imposition. I am perfectly able to travel by post,” Elizabeth answered, wondering what he was about.
“I insist. It is no imposition,” declared Darcy. “I have the room, and I am already traveling for London. If you are worried about your reputation, you have assured me of your servant’s discretion, and I assure you that mine will not breathe a word—no one need ever know.”
Elizabeth eyed him warily. She was not sure about travelling all of the way to London, but she was not going to mention that now, since it would only cause further debate. She was resolved to ride with him no further than Hatfield where she would remain behind at the post station when he departed. Elizabeth nodded her agreement causing Darcy to confer with his driver. Mr. Hill was not happy leaving her with the gentleman, insisting on and receiving confirmation of her choice before he left with the horse to return to Meryton.
As the carriage began to move again, Darcy looked at Elizabeth not understanding her trepidation. Deciding conversation was the best way to put her at ease, he tried to think of topics to discuss, and remembering her words from the Netherfield ball, gave a small smile.
“Miss Bennet, we must have some conversation.”
She raised her right eyebrow in response to his statement, recognizing her words from the previous night. He was such an enigma; maybe the ride would give her the opportunity to finally sketch his character.
“What do you wish to discuss, Mr. Darcy?”
“I wish to ask you about a comment you made last night, if you would allow me.”
“Of course.”
“You claimed Mr. Wickham had been so unlucky as to lose my friendship, in a manner which he would suffer from all his life. I was wondering precisely what he told you.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Mr. Wickham informed me of his relationship to your family. He told me of your father’s wishes, as well as your refusal of the living your father had meant for him.”
Darcy was angry to find he was correct in his earlier assumptions. “I suppose he left out the portion of the story in which he informed me that he was resolved not to take orders and was compensated accordingly,” he declared, without thinking or regarding the tone of his voice; her face flushed and her eyes widened in surprise.
He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, beginning again in a more regulated tone of voice. “Wickham was the son of my late father’s steward. Mr. Wickham senior was a respectable man, and to reward a faithful servant, my father supported the younger Wickham at school and later at Cambridge.”
Darcy returned his gaze to Elizabeth’s eyes. “When my father died, Wickham turned down the living. He claimed a desire to study the law, so I provided him with three thousand pounds in lieu of the living as well as the one thousand pounds my father bequeathed to him in his will.
However, when the living at Kympton became available, he reappeared, requesting a letter of presentation. Obviously, I refused.”
At this point, overwhelmed by what she was hearing, Elizabeth noticed Mr. Darcy take a deep shuddering breath as he returned to looking at the rain, appearing pained, almost defeated. She watched in amazement when, as he turned to face her, his entire manner and demeanour changed. The whole of his body had become rigid, and his face had the stern expression she was so used to seeing him wear.
“The circumstances of my next meeting with Wickham I would wish to forget, and I sincerely ask you to keep this matter between us, as it could have rather dire consequences should this information come to the attention of society.”
Elizabeth was not sure what to make of his request, yet she nodded her head in acquiescence.
“Last summer, my sister and her companion, a Mrs. Younge, travelled to Ramsgate. Wickham followed, persuading Georgiana to believe herself in love and consent to an elopement.”
Darcy took a deep breath. “Fortunately, I joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the intended elopement, and my sister, confessed the entirety of the affair. His primary object was my sister’s fortune of thirty thousand pounds. I also believe he intended to revenge himself on me.”
Mr. Darcy’s gaze returned out of the window as he said in a softer tone, “His revenge would have been complete indeed.”
At the end of his recitation, Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy in shock. Oh, how could she have believed George Wickham! She had never questioned how inappropriate it was for him to impart his history with Mr. Darcy so soon after making her acquaintance, and realised with mortification that as a result of his unfortunate comment at the Meryton assembly, she had allowed her prejudice against him to influence every interaction between the two of them.
Elizabeth contemplated the change in his manner prior to relating the tale of his sister; she watched him don a mask that had slowly slipped, revealing the pain of the memory in his eyes. Had he been hiding his true self whenever in company? Why would a man of sense and education hide himself from the world?
“I regret that I attempted to provoke you last night with my uncivil behaviour. I am ashamed to admit that I believed his slander and I whole-heartedly apologize,” declared Elizabeth, fighting back tears of embarrassment.
“Please, do not make yourself uneasy, Wickham’s easy manners deceive many people. I have not only witnessed but also dealt with the repercussions of his deceptions too many times to count.”
Darcy had hoped to warn Elizabeth to be on her guard with Wickham. He had not realised that her generous heart would be hurt by discovering the cad’s true character, and found his stomach in knots as he became aware that he was jealous Wickham had gained her regard.
“Now, I only wish I had imparted this information earlier, in order to prevent injury to you,” he said sympathetically.
Elizabeth had her brow furrowed in thought until she understood his implication. “Sir, you misunderstand. He had pleasing manners and I enjoyed his company, but he did not injure me.”
“Good, I am relieved to hear it,” he replied, exhaling in relief. His jealousy and worry subsided as her confession settled within his mind and heart.
Now that he had revealed his history with Wickham, Darcy began to think about how odd it was to discover her on the side of the road, in the pouring rain no less. Why did she not take the post coach from Meryton? Why was she traveling to London with only a valise and not a trunk? He was beginning to think there was more to her story than a trip to visit her aunt and uncle.
“May I ask you another question?” Darcy queried.
“By all means,” said Elizabeth, wondering what was causing the suddenly contemplative look, which had appeared on his face.
“I apologize if you find me intrusive, but I was wondering why you did not take the post from Meryton.”
Elizabeth, who did not expect the question, coloured and looked away, not knowing how to answer without revealing all.
“I have entrusted you with some very personal information. I assure you, I can be trusted with your deepest and darkest secrets as well,” he continued with a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she looked at his expression; it was so very different from the usual stern manner he used in company. She had never considered him unattractive, however seeing the beginnings of a smile on his face, she realised how very handsome he was.
“I do not doubt your discretion. My story is rather embarrassing, and I fear you will not think very highly of me when it is concluded,” Elizabeth answered, turning to look out of the carriage window. “I would prefer to leave matters as they are. You can deliver me to the post station in Hatfield without any knowledge of my future plans, other than that I was traveling to Cheapside.”
Darcy began to worry with her last statement. “I doubt you have heard, but Mr. Bingley and his sisters departed Netherfield today. Obviously, I am leaving as well, and while I do not know if Bingley plans to return to the neighbourhood, I do not.” She returned her gaze to him as he continued. “If you are leaving without your parents’ knowledge, I will not be in Meryton to be questioned, nor will I offer any information regarding your whereabouts, unless it is your wish.”
He had such an earnest look upon his face that she could not help but believe him, but did that mean she could divulge her plans and the reason behind them? She was concerned that taking Mr. Darcy into her confidence would only complicate matters immensely, and complications were not something she could afford at the moment.
“Miss Bennet, if you have chosen to leave home, you will have limited options available to you. I would be willing to assist you should you require it.”
“I could not ask that of you, sir,” replied Elizabeth softly. She was dumbfounded. Mr. Darcywanted to help her. It was inconceivable, yet he was offering. Why would he do that?
“Tell me why you are leaving and let me be the judge of whether or not I would like to help,” he implored.
Elizabeth was mortified. She closed her eyes, and attempted to order her thoughts. He had assured her of his discretion. After all, he expected her not to divulge the information he had imparted regarding his sister. She opened her eyes and adjusted the rugs around her body, still trying to warm herself as she decided that she did not have much choice but to trust Mr. Darcy.
