I am very pleased to welcome Summer to my blog. We have an established social media friendship and one of these days I might make my way to one of the many JAFF and/or RAGT events she has attended and meet her in person. It's on my bucket list. Without further ado, I give you Summer Hanford and the adventures of one Miss Anne de Bourgh.
THE ADVENTURES OF MISS ANNE DE BOURGH OF ROSINGS
A PRIDE & PREJUDICE VARIATION PREQUEL TO MR. DARCY’S BOOKSHOP
v. II
Blurb
Please Note: This is a short novella of only 20,000 words.
Miss Anne de Bourgh might be a girl, but that doesn’t stop her from hunting, shooting, riding, and fencing as well as her cousins, and when her cousin Richard is about to make a life-ruining mistake, Anne hatches a plot to put things right. But in order to do so, she’ll need to team up with her personal nemesis.
That’s right, this time Anne must collude not against, but with, her least favorite cousin . . . Henry, heir to the Earl of Matlock.
The Adventures of Miss Anne de Bourgh of Rosings v. II is a short novella prequel to Mr. Darcy’s Bookshop and takes place about a year after The Adventures of Miss Anne de Bourgh of Rosings v. I. Enjoy!
Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
Late Summer, 1798, Matlock Estate in Derbyshire
Anne sat beside Mrs. Jenkinson in Sir Lewis’s spacious carriage and tried not to swing her feet. Apparently, young ladies of fifteen did not swing their feet. At least, not according to Mrs. Jenkinson, who had advised Anne that she was the beginning, middle, and end of any argument pertaining to manners.
In her mind, Anne recited fencing poses, struggling to remain still, but energy reverberated through her. They’d been in her father’s carriage for hours. Days, really. The journey from Kent to Matlock wasn’t a short one, although her father seemed happy with their time.
Finally, they rolled to a halt outside Uncle Matlock’s big, old, gargoyle adorned manor house. Anne reached for the carriage door, eager to be free.
Mrs. Jenkinson’s voice halted her with, “Ladies wait for a footman to open the door and assist them down.”
“Ladies must be exceedingly lazy,” Anne countered and flung open the carriage door to the sight of a startled footman.
Recovering quickly, he extended a hand.
With a grumpy look for Mrs. Jenkinson and an amused-looking Sir Lewis, Anne permitted the footman to help her down. The moment her hessians touched the gravel drive, she encountered a new trial…the deep desire to run in absolutely any direction, simply to be moving.
Instead, she waited while Mrs. Jenkinson and her father disembarked, then walked decorously up the grand steps with them and into the equally ostentatious entrance hall.
“Uncle, Cousin, Mrs. Jenkinson,” Cousin Henry greeted with a bow as servants came forward to assist with their outerwear, little that they had in the late summer heat. “Father asked me to apologize as he is concluding some business. He will greet you all in the jade drawing room prior to supper, in two hours’ time. I am to tell you, as well, that your usual rooms have been made ready, and the sitting room attached to Anne’s chambers set aside for your private use.”
“Thank you, Henry. That suits us well.” Sir Lewis gestured up the staircase, his gaze shifting to take in Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson. “Ladies, shall we?”
“If I may borrow Anne, Richard asked to see her. He is working as well, in the library.”
Anne stepped forward eagerly. She had little use for her cousin Henry, but she looked forward to seeing Richard.
“Very well,” Mrs. Jenkinson said. “But do not tarry over long, Miss de Bourgh. You will need to change for dinner.” Her critical gaze swept over Anne’s travel gown, then dropped down to take in her boots.
“I will only exchange a quick greeting with my cousins,” Anne assured her companion, in no way meaning her words. In truth, Anne meant to do precisely as she pleased, be it ready for dinner or, hopefully, anything more entertaining.
Mrs. Jenkinson’s look of resignation clearly expressing what she thought of Anne’s reassurance, she nodded. She and Sir Lewis started up the stairs to their rooms.
Anne grabbed Henry’s arm and tugged him down the corridor, out of earshot, before demanding, “Why didn’t Richard come greet us?”
“That’s what I need to speak with you about.” Shaking free of her grip, Henry grabbed her arm in turn and yanked her into a dark little parlor.
Anne looked about, suspicious. Henry could be hiding any sort of prank in the near darkness. “Say what you have to say, then.”
“It’s Richard. He needs our help.”
Anne frowned, even more suspicious. What better way to lead her into a trap, possibly to a spot beneath a bucket of ink or some such, than to say that Richard needed her? “I thought you said he’s working in the library.”
“He is. He has been for weeks. It’s awful and we must help him.”
Anne raised her gaze in silent supplication. “You are making even less sense than usual, Henry.”
Henry paced away in the dark room, pushing both hands through his hair. “It started this summer. This thing with Richard and Missy Steepleton, the parson’s daughter.”
“Sissy Missy?” Anne was familiar with the scrawny blonde girl, perhaps a year older than her, who used to try to play with them but who was always too afraid to do anything fun. Missy wouldn’t hold frogs. Missy wouldn’t climb trees. Missy squealed if mud touched her hem. “Richard has a…a thing with Missy?” The idea was absurd. Missy Steepleton was worthless as a companion.
But Henry paused his pacing, nodding with grave seriousness. “He fancies he’s in love with her.”
Anne wrinkled her nose. “Ug. How horrible.”
Henry eyed her curiously. “Love in general or with Missy Steepleton in specific?”
“Both.” Anne could think of few things worse than being afflicted with love, but being afflicted with love for someone who grew queasy at the sight of a fish being gutted or a pheasant being plucked was one of them. “How did this happen?”
Henry shrugged. “The usual way. Lately Missy, you know…” He trailed off, making an hourglass sort of gesture. “She—”
“So help me, if you say ‘blossomed,’ I will punch you in the face.”
Henry smirked. “You’re just afraid because it’s bound to happen to you.”
At fifteen, Anne was acutely aware that it was happening to her, but no amount of blossoming would keep her from riding, fishing, hunting, and fencing. She imagined becoming a young lady hadn’t changed Missy much, either. She probably still fainted at the sight of blood, even rabbit blood, and enjoyed needlepoint, or some such. Anne had never troubled to find out Missy’s passions.
Because it was none of her business what Missy enjoyed, or of Henry’s. “As useless as Missy is, it’s not truly our concern. It is not as if we can dictate who Richard fancies.”
“I don’t care who Richard fancies,” Henry said in an offensively exasperated voice, for it was not Anne’s fault that her cousin could not properly convey information. “I care about the bargain Richard struck with Father.”
“What bargain?”
“Remember how, last year, you and Richard and Darcy dumped ink on me?”
Anne grinned. “I do.”
Henry cast her a sour look. “Well, remember how Father said he would buy Richard a commission because he’s obviously not suited for the priesthood?”
Anne’s smugness grew, for she’d been quite pleased with that. Richard had always wanted to serve in the regulars, but hadn’t, until then, been able to convince his father to agree with the notion. Healthy as Henry was, Richard was the spare, and the earl seemed inclined to keep him safe in case he was needed. “I remember that, too.”
“Well, Richard has it in his head that he’s in love with Missy and wants to marry her.”
Anne gasped. It was one thing to be enamored with a girl, but another altogether to leap into a union with her. “What? He’s too young to marry. Surely Uncle Matlock said no.”
“He did, and not only because Richard is only seventeen. He said a son of his can do better than a parson’s daughter, too.”
Relief washed through Anne. “So there’s no trouble. Richard will enter into service soon, and while he’s off fighting for the King, he’ll forget all about Missy.”
But Henry was shaking his head. “Ever since that night you inked me, Father has regretted his words. He’s tried to talk Richard back into the priesthood.”
“But Richard has always wanted to serve.”
“Will you let me talk?” Henry demanded.
Anne pulled a face at him, but nodded.
“So,” Henry paused, glaring at her to test if she would interrupt. After a moment, he continued, “So Richard made Father a deal. He says he will become a priest if Father will let him marry Missy.”
“Uncle Matlock agreed to that?” The words burst out of Anne, full of incredulousness, and she clamped her hands over her mouth. She cast a quick look over her shoulder at the open parlor doorway, hoping no one was near enough to hear her. In a lower voice, she hissed, “How could he?”
“I guess he would rather have a live son who married beneath him than a dead one,” Henry said quietly. With a sigh of resignation, he dropped down onto a settee that appeared too delicate for his thick limbs.
“Richard will not die if he serves,” Anne said firmly. “He will be an excellent officer. The sort our nation needs. He will do great things and come home a hero, and be able to do much better, indeed, than Missy Steepleton.”
“All I know is that he’s constantly in the library studying and he says he’s off to Cambridge this autumn.”
“It is only Cambridge,” Anne mused, dropping into a chair. “He can forget about her there, too, and still have plenty of time to take a commission.”
Henry shook his head. “Father is having a contract drawn up. His side says that he will agree to an engagement when Richard leaves for Cambridge, and that they may be married as soon as Richard has the signatures of three respected theologians approving him to be ordained. Richard’s part says that in exchange, he will never take a commission. Father is with his lawyers now, working on the details.”
“Now?” Anne surged to her feet. Why hadn’t Henry mentioned the matter was urgent? “I must speak with Richard.”
Anne rushed from the room, knowing the way to the library quite well. She could hear Henry’s heavier tread following but didn’t slow so he could catch up. A part of her still worried this was some sort of trick. After all, Richard had longed to serve since they were small. He wouldn’t give up his life’s dream for a bit of muslin clad fluff.
Would he?
Anne burst into the library to the sight of Richard at a long table, surrounded by books. He stared at her, a pen in hand, poised over notes he’d obviously been writing. With a huff he blew out air to dislodge a swath of too-long brown locks from his eyes. His gaze went to the mantel clock.
Returning his attention to her, he smiled. “Anne. My apologies. I did not realize you had arrived. It is good to see you.”
Noting that he did not put up his pen, she barreled up to the table. “Richard. Whatever are you doing?”
He looked down at the books, open and closed, and the messy pages before him, most scribbled on illegibly. “I’m studying. I’m going to be ordained. Like father wants.” A drop of ink fell from the pen tip to splash down on the page before him. “Drat.”
“Why under the sun would you want to be ordained?” Anne demanded.
Richard raised his gaze from the blot of ink. “So I can be married. Congratulations are in order. I will be engaged soon.” He grinned foolishly.
This was worse than she’d thought. She’d never seen Richard appear so addlebrained. Not even when they’d stolen a bottle of brandy so they could learn to drink properly, like their father’s did. “I suppose congratulations are in order, then. Who is the wonderful miss soon to be your betrothed?”
“Miss Melissa Steepleton.” Richard let out a long sigh, appearing even more lacking in sense than before.
“Missy Steepleton? The girl who cast up her breakfast on your new boots when you tried to show her a trout you’d caught?” Which hadn’t been as large as the trout Anne caught at all, as she recalled.
“The very one. I love her.”
“I see.” She could tell by his horrendously besotted expression that there would be no reasoning with him, but still she ventured, “But what about taking a commission in the regulars? What about serving King and Country and visiting far away lands, and fighting the French?”
Richard plunked the pen down on the blotter, his expression suddenly glum. “Well, I truly did want to do that. You know being an officer embodies everything I care about. Well, that is, everything I used to care about. Now I care about Missy.”
“Yes. Well, I am certain that is important, too.”
Dejectedly, Richard added, “And she likes a man in regimentals. She told me she’d much rather marry a soldier than a priest, especially as her papa is one.”
“So go be a soldier,” Anne urged.
Richard shook his head, his face taking on a firm, set look. “No. If I do that, my father won’t give me permission to marry. Missy and I would have to wait until I’m one and twenty, or maybe even until she is. That’s another five years.”
“What are five years if you are in love?”
Richard cast her an incredulous look. “I cannot imagine you waiting for anything for five years, de Bourgh.”
“Yes, but you are far more reasonable than I am.”
Richard capped the inkwell, then reached for a cloth to clean the pen. “Not in this. Missy and I are in love and we want to be married, and that is the end of it.”
“But your dream of—”
“I said that is the end of it,” Richard reiterated firmly.
That most certainly was not the end of it, but Anne could see she would do no more good arguing with Richard about it now. “Very well, then. I am happy you have found love.”
“Thank you,” Richard said gravely.
Henry took that moment to finally enter, though he must have reached the library on Anne’s heels. “There you two are,” he said blithely. “It is time to ready for supper.”
“You aren’t my keeper,” Richard replied, but he set down the cleaned pen and stood.
Anne followed her cousins from the library and up the front staircase. Something definitely had to be done. She would not permit Richard to throw away his dreams. Not on Missy Steepleton or any other girl. And to stop him, she would come up with the perfect plan.
Buy links:
The Adventures of Miss Anne de Bourgh of Rosings v.II: https://getbook.at/AnnesAdventuresvII
Up for pre-sale: The Adventures of Miss Anne de Bourgh of Rosings v. II - A Pride and Prejudice Prequel to Mr. Darcy's Bookshop (https://getbook.at/AnnesAdventuresvII)
About the Author
Since the moment she read her first novel, Summer’s passion has always been writing. As a child growing up on a dairy farm, she built castles made of hay and wielded swords made of fence posts. She is also passionate about animals, travel, and organizing her closet. Nothing pleases her more than a row of tops broken down by sleeve length and ordered by color…except working on her latest novel with her cat in her lap, her dog lounging on the rug dreaming of squirrels, and a cup of tea at hand.
For more about Summer, visit www.summerhanford.com.
Email: summer@summerhanford.com
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