THURSDAY THREE HUNDRED ~ MARY #11

SHE'D RATHER EAT BLOOD PUDDING FOR A MONTH THAN ENDURE TONIGHT'S FESTIVITIES

Chapter Three

Before Mary knew it, the days had flown by and the night of the quarterly Assembly was upon them. She stood staring at her reflection, wishing she could refuse to attend. The dress Mama had commissioned from London was lovely. Although the pale-yellow silk boasted a modest scoop neckline with delicate capped sleeves edged with lace, she was a tad uncomfortable with how much of her bosom was on display. Fine clothes did not ensure her a successful night of dancing. She would not be surprised to find herself seated along the edges of the assembly hall just like all the other times, and wondered, with a wry twist of humor, if her gown would clash with the wall paper. A knock on her bedroom door claimed her wandering attention and the reflective glass revealed her mother peeking around the door into her room.

“Why aren’t you ready? Your Papa is waiting.”

“Can I not stay home?”

“Stay home? Absolutely not.”

“I will not enjoy this evening, Mama.”

How could she explain, to a woman who lived for social gatherings, that she’d rather eat blood pudding for a month than endure tonight’s festivities?

“You certainly won’t if you approach it with an attitude like that. No young man worth his salt will want to partner with such a sour puss as you.” With an agitated sniff, head held high, Mama turned and headed for the stairs.

Mary took a moment to quell her rising agitation. Becoming vexed with her mother was not the way to begin the evening. Her mother had been positively giddy with excitement preparing for the Assembly as tonight all of Meryton would recognize her as Lady Bennet. The upcoming hours stretched interminably before Mary. Her only hope lay in Mama becoming fatigued and wish to leave early.

“Mary! Stop delaying. Your Papa does not like to be kept waiting.”

“Coming, Mama.”

She picked up her shawl and threw it over her arm. The evening still retained some warmth from today’s sun; however, if they stayed late at the Assembly, the night air would be too cold for bared arms.

“Mary!”

“Coming,” she called back and closed the door of her room before hurrying down the stairs. Her mother stood framed in the front door; the color high on her cheeks. Her silk gown of deep blue became her and on impulse, Mary gave her a light kiss on the cheek. “You look lovely, Mama. Papa will not enjoy the evening if he’s busy fighting off other men.”

“Oh, you.” Mama tapped Mary’s arm with her fan as she giggled like a schoolgirl. “Your father never enjoys these events, as you well know, and he will not fight off any men. I shan’t be asked to dance. I’m too old.”

“You, Madam, are wrong on one account. I intend to dance with you,” Papa declared from the front step. “Let us be off, and don’t kick the dueling pistols I loaded into the carriage.”

“Mr. Bennet!”

Mary could only shake her head at the teasing tones of her parent as she climbed into the carriage. After years of subtle derision on her father’s part to their mother, this light-hearted exchange gave her hope for their future, regardless of the baby’s sex.

THURSDAY THREE HUNDRED ~ MARY #10

THAT WAS WHEN HE KNEW.

HE'D KISS MISS MARY BENNET; THE ONLY QUESTION WAS WHEN.

We left off with:

... if he were honest, he’d never taken notice of her because she always remained in the background, a nondescript little puddle of brown or gray muslin.

Now for this week's three hundred (+) words:

Still unobserved by any of the guests, he took his time to assess the young woman seated at the pianoforte. Her hair was lustrous and dark, similar in color and texture to Elizabeth’s. In fact, she favored her elder sister in many ways, with a heart-shaped face and dark eyes, which at the moment glared at the music sheets as though they’d personally grieved her. Her gown, blue silk, hugged her figure to perfection, and on their own accord, his eyes roamed over what was displayed behind the instrument, skidding to a stop when he reached her… heat licked his cheeks and quickly moved south. No longer decked out in predictable, ill-fitting drab colors, the gown showed her assets to their greatest advantage. Dear God in heaven, Darcy would call him out onto the field of honor if he knew where his traitorous thoughts had wandered. And rightly so.

She struck another discordant note and bit her lip again in frustration. His heart almost thudded to a stop and that was when he knew. He’d kiss Miss Mary Bennet; the only question was when.

“Richard!”

His reverie was interrupted by Elizabeth spotting him. He turned with a smile and advanced toward her, noting in his peripheral vision the slight start Miss Bennet gave when she realized he’d been standing nearby, unobserved.

“Cousin Elizabeth, or should I say, The Honorable Mrs. Darcy, how lovely to see you, Madam.” He took her hand and bowed over it. He was pleased to see her flush slightly.

“Stop that, and I am still your cousin. Come along.” She withdrew her hand, tucked it around his arm, and began directing their steps toward the far side of the room and Darcy. “When did you arrive? I did not see you come in.”

“I admit to sneaking in through the servant’s access, and have been here but a few minutes,” he said. Gazing into your sister’s beautiful face, he didn’t say. Nor did he add, admiring her décolletage.

“Fitz is most anxious to speak with you about the upcoming ball. We wish to corral Mama before she lets her new title estrange everyone in Meryton.” 

THURSDAY THREE HUNDRED ~ MARY #9

...she always remained in the background, a nondescript little puddle of brown or gray muslin.

We left last week with:

By the time he’d changed and reassured the terrified man he would not be sent back to the front lines, it was almost noon before he escaped Town.

Continuing on with this weeks' 300:

When one of the horses threw a shoe twenty miles outside of London, he almost cried defeat and turned back. The only thing that kept him within the posting inn walls was the terrifying fact that Mother had threatened him with an afternoon soiree at Lady Fosscroft’s. The soiree was not what he wished to avoid; it was the lady’s two very eligible, very well-dowered daughters who had no qualms, it seemed, of settling with a second son. Ever since their debut two years ago, he’d been careful never to be alone with either of them. As long as he had his wits about him, there would be no ‘accidental’ compromises forcing him down the aisle.

He nursed a tepid mug of ale while waiting for the farrier and wondered what else could go wrong before the day was out. Most likely, there would be a downpour before he reached his destination. Luckily, the horse was expertly re-shod, and he was on his way in under the half-hour. The sun had begun its final descent when he bade farewell to Grandon at Wilton Manor swung up onto Euros, which had been tethered to the carriage, and cantered up the graveled drive to Netherfield Park.

Because of his many delays, Richard arrived late for Hurst’s dinner party and heard everyone gathered in the front drawing-room. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he asked the butler not to announce him. Familiar with the layout of Netherfield Park, he hastened toward one of the servant’s entrances and slipped into the drawing-room through a hidden door situated near the pianoforte. Upon entering, he glanced around the milling guests and only paused from going forward when a discordant note was played, followed by a whispered, “Horsefeathers.”

He turned to see who had whispered such an innocuous saying and saw Miss Mary Bennet seated at the pianoforte, biting a lush lower lip. Time stopped. There was no other way to describe the moment. It simply stuttered to a standstill.

She was beautiful. How had he never noticed that before? He paused in thought and realized that he’d never held a proper conversation with her. Not once in all the family gatherings over the past few years, not even when he taught the ladies how to shoot after the incident at Nathan and Caroline’s wedding ball. He was fairly certain she’d been in attendance at Darcy’s house for the infamous dinner when Adborough reconciled with Georgiana. Still, he’d been too busy glaring at the erstwhile Duke to care, and, if he were honest, he’d never taken notice of her because she always remained in the background, a nondescript little puddle of brown or gray muslin.

THURSDAY THREE HUNDRED ~ MARY #8

No one knew how much she esteemed the savvy gentleman

“What say you, Mama, of reacquainting yourself with Georgiana?” Lizzy asked.

Mama swept a glance about the room, stopping when she spied the Duchess.

“She still looks the same.”

“Of course, Mama. Elevated rank does not change a person’s personality. They remain ever so much the same. How people treat them is what undergoes a shift. Something you will learn as you and Papa move forward as Lord and Lady Bennet.”

Mary suppressed a smile at her elder sister’s gentle rebuke. It was apparent that some news had filtered out concerning Mama being none too subtle in her public preening. Being in the company of true nobility might settle her feathers into their rightful place. Even the peacock didn’t strut his feathers every time he walked in Regent’s Park.

The conversation came to a halt when the butler announced dinner was ready to be served.

“Should we ask Louisa to wait a few more minutes for Richard?” Mr. Darcy asked Lizzy.

Mary’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Darcy’s cousin. She’d had no hint he would be in attendance. No one knew how much she esteemed the savvy gentleman, and knowing full well he needed to marry up, she always behaved as though he were nothing more than a pleasant companion at dinner. Anything more and her fragile composure would shatter.

“I think not. Something must have delayed his departure. I will ask Louisa if their cook can set aside some food in case he arrives within the hour.”

“Very well.”

Louisa Hurst gave Maxwell Kerr, the Duke of Adborough, a slight nod, and he and Georgiana took the lead going into the dining hall.

~~oo0oo~~

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam walked toward the posting inn and slapped his riding glove against his leg in frustration. Everything that could go wrong on this trip to Hertfordshire had gone wrong. He’d left late because his brother, Viscount Ashton, descended upon his lodgings the evening prior and dragged him to White’s, at which point they’d imbibed in far too much brandy, followed by a visit to Madame Fournier’s establishment. He’d awakened in one of her many bedrooms, sheets wrapped around his naked torso and legs.

His cursed brother was nowhere to be found and so he’d hailed a hack back to Matlock House in order to prepare for his departure. The lingering effects of too much drink and lack of sleep made him dizzy, which caused him to bump the washbasin his batman used for shaving water. Both he and Grandon had watched, mute, as the porcelain bowl tipped and sudsy, whiskered water drenched his new fawn breeches. By the time he’d changed and reassured the terrified man he would not be sent back to the front lines, it was almost noon before he escaped Town. 

THURSDAY THREE HUNDRED ~ MARY #7

Now was not the time to disabuse Mama of Lydia's reality.

She and Georgiana moved onto other topics, stopping when Jane glided in on Bingley’s arm, while a very pregnant Caroline and Lord Nathan followed a step behind. Mama was in absolute raptures over her family gathered under one roof and began to weep. Mary quickly rose and hurried to her side, handing her a handkerchief.

“Thank you, Mary. I am overcome.”

“Do you wish to retire to a private room to compose yourself, Mama?” Lizzy asked, resting her hand upon Mama’s forearm.

“Good heavens, no. ‘Tis nothing. It will pass.” She dabbed her nose and tucked the soiled linen into the cuff of her sleeve. “Mr. Jones said this is perfectly normal. Thank goodness. Why the other day, I spotted the first fall leaf in my garden and wept. Your Papa told me I looked beautiful and wept. I declare, our horse could throw a show, and I’d weep.”

Lizzy laughed and hugged Mama, her own eyes glistening.

“Mine was Georgiana playing a lovely piece while we waited for your arrival.”

Mama gasped and stepped back, assessing her daughter.

“Are you…?”

“Yes. We didn’t write because we wanted to surprise you. Imagine ours when you arrived in all your glory.”

They dissolved into more laughter, then as suddenly as she began, Mama stopped.

“Oh, how I wish my dear Lydia could be here for all this good news.”

“I have not heard from Lydia in over three months,” Kitty said, coming alongside Mama and giving her a warm hug. “I fear my sister and husband do not have the blunt for travel. She wrote, begging for more funds in the last letter.”

“She has such high spirits and is such a favorite of all the officers in Newcastle. It is no wonder they exceed their income. It is quite expensive, entertaining in your home.”

All four sisters shared a knowing look between them. It wasn’t entertaining at home that drained the coffers of the Wickham household. However, this wasn’t the time or place to disabuse Mama of Lydia’s reality.

THURSDAY THREE HUNDRED ~ MARY #6

Mary looked into the twinkling eyes of Elizabeth. She gave her a quick hug, noticing almost immediately her slightly rounded belly.

“Are congratulations in order?” she asked in a low tone.

“Yes,” Lizzy whispered and turned slightly pink. “We’ve not told anyone yet. We wanted to wait until all the family had gathered.”

“Good plan. It’s always smart to save announcements such as these for when the family is around.” Mary almost laughed out loud at the expectation of Lizzy and Darcy’s reaction when informed of Longbourn’s pending arrival. She didn’t have long to wait. The second Mama removed her pelisse and turned, exclaiming, ‘Oh, Mr. Darcy. How good to see you again,’ Lizzy’s shocked expression was worth the anticipation.

“Mama!” Lizzy cried out and looked toward her husband. A lifted brow was the only response she received from the taciturn gentleman. “Are you…? Have you…?”

Her mother could only nod, much like a puppy following a bouncing ball.

“We have been blessed abundantly, Lizzy dearest, and I know… Just know the babe will be healthy and hale.”

“I’m both surprised and pleased, Mama,” Elizabeth said as Mama enfolded her in the largest hug she’d ever given, other than when Lizzy announced her engagement to Mr. Darcy.

Papa followed more sedately, as usual, a wry smile upon his face as his second eldest daughter learned their news. Darcy was the first to recover his senses and held out his hand in congratulations. Papa took it, and they shook most amicably.

“Congratulations are in order, I see,” Darcy said, turning to his mother-in-law. “Congratulations, Mother Bennet. I normally would not assume, but given the smiles adorning both your faces, you are delighted with the impending arrival.”

“We are, Mr. Darcy. Lizzy would be pleased to know that I take a turn about the garden every day as Mr. Jones says it is most beneficial for a mother to be active.”

“I could not agree more.”

Upon sighting her dear friend Georgiana, the Duchess of Adborough, seated across the room, Mary excused herself and moved to join her.

“Mary! I haven’t seen you in months. You look wonderful.”

“Your Grace.” Mary sank into a deep curtsy.

“Do I no longer have a first name?” Georgiana raised both her hands and Mary took them in hers before sitting beside her. She gave them a quick squeeze and then released them. “We are family and I insist you always call me Georgiana, or Georgi if you like. In turn, I won’t refer to you as The Honorable Miss Mary Bennet of Longbourn.”

“Oh dear, such a mouthful. Mama is beyond pleased with not only discovering she is Lady Bennet but also possibly carrying the future heir of Longbourn.”

Georgiana’s eyes flicked toward Mama, her mouth rounding into a circle of surprise. She turned her attention to Mary. “This is quite unexpected, not only for them but for the whole family. I hope, for their sake, everything turns out for the best.”

“Indeed, although there is a strong possibility, she may deliver yet another female child.”

“Then, we must wait and pray.”

“I already am.”

THURSDAY THREE HUNDRED ~ MARY #5

The rest of the family descended upon Meryton with the news of Papa’s elevated rank. Through a flurry of letters, the family decided to attend the quarterly Assembly in Meryton, en masse, two weeks hence. Lizzy and Darcy rented Wilton Manor for a month complete as their entourage of children, nannies, and servants was too much for Longbourn. The Duke and Duchess of Adborough elected to stay with them, as did Kitty and Lord George, while Jane, Charles, Caroline, and Lord Nathan were guests of the Hursts at Netherfield Park.

Mr. Reginald Hurst and his wife Louisa purchased the estate when Charles abandoned the lease to buy in Derbyshire. A small smile graced Mary’s face when she thought about all of them in attendance at the Assembly. Fifteen in total, if her mental math was correct. More than enough tolerable dance partners this time around, although Darcy would never make the same mistake twice when it came to her sister, his wife.

The Hursts hosted a dinner party the day after all expected parties had arrived. Not only to mix and mingle away from the prying eyes of curious neighbors but also to plan the logistics of their arrivals at the Assembly. The Bennet family arrived at Netherfield Park a half-hour before expected, so excited was Mama to see her daughters and extended family. Louisa Hurst stepped forward, absolutely radiant in her final months of pregnancy. After the birth of their first son, Nicholas, they’d despaired of having another.

She invited them to join everyone in the front drawing-room. Chaos ensued almost immediately upon Mama sighting Lizzy and Mr. Darcy. As per usual, Mary hung back and watched, quietly content.

“What? No hug for your sister?”

Mary looked into the twinkling eyes of Elizabeth. She gave her a quick hug, noticing almost immediately her slightly rounded belly.

THURSDAY THREE HUNDRED ~ MARY #4

She hastened her pace upon entering the village of Meryton. No one seemed bothered by the fact that she’d walked the mile and a half from Longbourn – alone. No uproar over her being unchaperoned, without a maid or escort. Not even a family footman lurking in the background on the off chance someone might try to compromise her. No, she, Miss Mary Bennet of Longbourn, third daughter of five, enjoyed the freedom of movement customarily attributed to doddering old spinsters and widow’s long past looking for another husband.

She was, to put it succinctly, unmarriageable.

“Good afternoon, Miss Bennet. Lovely day, ain’t it?” Mrs. Sheffield greeted her while sweeping the wooden boardwalk outside her shop.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Sheffield. It is a lovely day.”

“Have you read the newspaper today?”

“No, Papa keeps the paper for himself and shares whatever he thinks is newsworthy. Was there something important I should know about?”

“Oh, I’d say there were sumthin’ important. Wait right ‘ere.”

She leaned the broom against the outer wall and disappeared into the store, returning in a few minutes with The Gazette. She handed the paper to Mary and said, “Page Three.”

Mary took the paper from Mrs. Sheffield and opened it to the appropriate page. Emblazoned in bold type across the top was the heading: ‘HRH, the Prince Regent Celebrates End of War.’ The article started by saying HRH the Prince Regent wished to celebrate the end of the Peninsular War with an elaborate garden party for every person to whom he or his father bestowed titles upon in the past fifteen years, followed by a quick blurb of where and when the party would be held. A list of all invitees marched down the page in five straight lines.

“I fail to see how a party the Prince Regent is holding affects me, Mrs. Sheffield.”

“I suggest you look at the guest list. The names be in alphabetical order.”

To humor the kind woman, Mary began reading, gasping out loud when she came to the letter ‘B.’ Mrs. Sheffield began to cackle at the look on her face.

“Told you it were important.”

“Excuse me.” Her errand forgotten; Mary handed the paper back to Mrs. Sheffield. “I must return home.”

With that, she spun on her heel and walked quickly down the street. Once out of sight of the village she practically ran all the way to Longbourn. When she arrived, out of breath, the house was in a state of uproar.

“Mr. Bennet. What are we to do?”

The strident tones of her mother’s voice was easily heard through the open window of Papa’s book room. Her father’s reply was not discernable, and it wasn’t until she entered the vestibule that more of their conversation filtered out.

“I am forty-two years of age. How can I go through this now?” Mama’s voice had escalated to near-hysterical proportions.

The door to the book room opened and upon seeing Mary, Papa beckoned her inside. With a fair bit of apprehension, she did as her father bade and joined him and Mama. She seated herself in one of the wingback chairs near the fireplace, and, in preparation to act surprised when he shared the news, waited with hands clasped neatly on her lap. Mama paced in front of the window while Papa settled at his desk with a deep sigh.

“Your mother and I have some news and we would appreciate you keeping this knowledge to yourself for a small amount of time.”

“Everyone will know about it soon enough,” Mama cried out and threw herself into the closest chair.

Mary didn’t know if she should enlighten them with the knowledge that the village of Meryton was already apprised of their good fortune. Deciding to cross that bridge when it arose, she pretended she had no foreknowledge and said, “I shall be the soul of discretion.”

“Thank you, Mary. You won’t have to carry this secret for too long because, as your mother stated, the news will become evident in fairly short order.”

At that, her mother wailed again and bolted for the door, flinging it open before rushing up the stairs. Startled, Mary watched, her mouth open.

“Don’t worry, Mary,” Papa said. “Your mother is only casting up her accounts because of the babe.”

THURSDAY THREE HUNDRED ~ MARY #3

 

At two and twenty, Miss Mary Bennet knew she was considered nearly a spinster. Her youngest sister had married at the age of fifteen – what a story that escapade would make –her eldest sister married on the cusp of two and twenty alongside her other sister who at the time was not even one and twenty. Even Kitty had been swept off her feet at the ripe old age of nineteen. For three long years, she’d watched from the sidelines as her sisters fell in love, married, and moved away.

She knew she was not traditionally ladylike, as her other siblings. In her speech, she was too forthright and would rather spend an evening playing the pianoforte to an evening in the company of friends, or heaven forfend, attend a ball.

She had a pleasing figure, all her own teeth, and if she had a lick of vanity, it was her thick, beautifully curly, mahogany locks of hair. On more than one occasion, the matronly ladies she sat with at many assemblies kindly informed her she had kind eyes.

Kind eyes? Basset hounds had kind eyes.

Papa finally settled on her a substantial dowry. With all her siblings out from under the eaves of Longbourn, he had the resources to add to the family coffers and she now had a nice tidy sum of four thousand pounds for any man willing to make an offer. And there was the rub. Someone had to make an offer.

If anyone were to catalog all her attributes, they’d wonder how she’d gone so long without one single proposal. Without one single kiss. Well, there’d been one when she was just turned fourteen, but she didn’t count the sloppy slobber as a kiss. Nigel, the cobbler’s son had pressed his fleshy lips against hers and then tried to push his tongue into her mouth, which she’d promptly bit.

He’d never spoken to her again, and frankly, she hadn’t cared. If kissing involved groping hands and tongues shoved into one’s mouth, she didn’t wish to be kissed again. However, all her sisters seemed to like their husbands kissing them, so maybe Nigel had got it all wrong. She’d never know. Mama did not extend any effort to push her into the path of eligible young men, and that all by itself spoke volumes. Even Mama thought her chances were nil.

TIDBIT TUESDAY ~ MARY

 "And what is your purpose, wife?"

THURSDAY THREE HUNDRED ~ MARY #2

“You know, I always wondered what he meant prior to the morning of our wedding.”

“What was that?”

“It was while your mother orchestrated who would ride in what carriage to the wedding service. He’d muttered ‘All this to do about nothing. It’s almost as bad as St. James’ Court.’ At the time, I thought he was being his usual mercurial self, but his promotion amongst the landed gentry must have been to what he referred.”

“Mama will be beside herself. She now precedes Lady Lucas. Oh, they’ll never be friends now.”

“Were they ever?”

“They had… I guess you would call it a mutually polite acquaintance.”

“Wait until she realizes you outrank even me,” Darcy teased.

Lizzy rose from her chair and circled behind her husband of two years. She leaned down, wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, and laid her cheek against his.

“We are equals. You are a gentleman, and I am a gentleman’s daughter. There is no rank in our house, not unless the Monarch decides to bestow a title upon you, which would be well deserved but not sought. Fortunately, Kitty, as Lady George Kerr, outranks Mama. She might be able to contain her ebullient gloating.”

Darcy brought his hand up to his shoulder and laid it over her small hand.

“I believe a trip to Longbourn is required. Your mother will want to herald the news to all and sundry and require her well-situated daughters to flank her every side. Are you up to the task?”

Lizzy kissed the top of his head before stepping away, the small bump barely visible beneath her morning dress.

“Fortunately, we are in London, and what’s a day’s travel on a good road? Even so, Nanny and I will have our hands full with Bennet and Andrew.”

“You shall manage my love. Your courage always rises when challenged.”

“You know me well.”

THURSDAY THREE HUNDRED ~ MARY #1

Happy New Year!

Welcome to my newest Thursday's Three Hundred. We are at the beginning of Mary: Pride & Prejudice continued... Book Four. So, let's get on it like a bonnet, shall we?

“That is very strange. But I suppose you had no opportunity. Your mother should have taken you to town every spring for the benefit of the masters.”

      “My mother would have had no objection, but my father hates London.”

Pride and Prejudice

Volume II, Chapter VI

“Elizabeth, have you never wondered why your father hates town so much?” Fitzwilliam Darcy asked his wife while she buttered a light as air croissant.

“No, he does not explain his reasons to anyone, for anything. He hasn’t been to London since after Lydia was born, that I know of.”

“Tell me, what do you think of this article in the paper today?” He laid the latest issue of The Gazette beside her plate, turned to page three.

“Which article?” She picked up the paper and quickly read the headline which heralded a royal celebration slated for the middle of May. Beneath the introduction were five columns filled with names and counties.

“The Palace is desirous of a celebration and, as such, invites all those granted a title since the turn of the century to attend.”

“What does that have to do with Papa’s hatred of London?” Elizabeth queried, a slight frown furrowing her brow.

“Read the list, my love. It’s in alphabetical order.”

Lizzy perused the document a second time. Her eyes widened, her mouth opened, and she began to laugh. She laughed until tears formed and flowed down her cheeks. Fitz couldn’t help himself; he laughed with her. When their hilarity subsided and she’d ceased to hiccup, she set the paper aside and said, “You mean to tell me Mama has been Lady Bennet these past fifteen years and Papa never told her?”

“It appears so.”

“Oh my, what I would give to be a fly on the wall of Papa’s study when Mama finds out Papa is a Baron.”

TIDBIT TUESDAY ~ MARY

His hand rose as if to caress her cheek

WEEKEND WRITING WARRIORS #72

What a crazy time we live in. Before my last post my thoughts were filled with seeing family at a wedding in San Diego and while there poop hit the fan. W.H.O. (on Mar 12 - the day AFTER we arrived) declared COVID-19 was pandemic and we were not scheduled to fly out until Mar 16. Needless to say, we got a flight back as soon as possible, snagging the last two seats on a flight Mar 14. I'm now at the end of my two week self isolation, however hubby, as an airline pilot, had to fly to England and we are both back in self isolation for another two weeks.

To top all that off, while in England, hubby received an e-mail from Air Canada which stated that for those who qualify, an early retirement package is available - effective APRIL 1!!!!! By the time you are reading this, we will have made our decision as to whether he will take the package or not. Frankly, I want him home. I know he practices safe social distancing, etc., but I cannot guarantee the behaviour of others... Big loss in income, but his life is worth it.

My brain is whirling faster than Lydia Bennet's skirts at the Meryton Assembly.

Speaking of Meryton, this week's offering continues with Mary, book four in my Pride & Prejudice continued... series. We left off with Mary ruminating on how unloved she is with her kind eyes. I massaged my punctuation to fit with guidelines.

Papa had finally settled on her a substantial dowry. With all her siblings out from under the eaves of Longbourn he had the resources to add to the family coffers and she now had a nice tidy sum of four thousand pounds for any man willing to make an offer, and there was the rub - someone had to make an offer. 

If anyone were to catalog all her attributes, they’d wonder how she’d gone so long without one single proposal, without one single kiss. Well, there’d been one, but she didn’t count the quick peck the cobbler’s son Nigel gave her behind the church when she was fourteen as a kiss. He’d pressed his lips against hers and then tried to push his tongue into her mouth, which she’d promptly bit.

He’d never spoken to her again and frankly, she hadn’t cared. If kissing involved groping hands and tongues being shoved into one’s mouth, she didn’t wish to be kissed again, however, all her sisters seemed to like the fact their husbands kissed them, so maybe Nigel had got it all wrong. She’d never know. Mama never pushed her into the path of eligible young men and that all by itself spoke volumes. Even her own mother thought her chances were nil.

There you go.

Weekend Writing Warriors is a fun type of blog tour for readers. Other writers, like myself, join by sharing excerpts from whatever WIP (Work In Progress) they have on the go, and post eight to ten lines weekly. Rules are simple. Don't exceed the posted line limit - something I struggle with and at times will use creative (an always incorrect) punctuation to create a full scene. If you'd like to see what others have submitted, go to Weekend Writing Warriors.

P.S.: Air Hug someone you love today

Regency Household Math

I'm working on Mary and in the first few scenes, I have the whole family descend upon Meryton. I began to keep track of who was where, as Longbourn couldn't possibly hold all of them with their servants and children in attendance. Here's what I have so far.

Wilton Manor (house that Darcy rents for the month they're in Meryton) Darcy, Elizabeth, Bennet, and Andrew (children) Two nannies, one valet, one lady's maid

Staying with the Darcy's are Georgiana and her husband Max, their valet and maid as well as Colonel Fitzwilliam with his batman. Kitty and her husband George will also stay with Lizzy and they have their daughter, nanny, valet, and maid in tow. That's 20 people.

We're not done!

Onto Netherfield Park, which the Hurst's purchased after Charles gave up his lease. Staying with them will be Charles and Jane, their two children, nannies, valet, and maid. Caroline and her husband Nathan have arrived along with their daughter, nanny, valet, and maid. That's 13 more mouths to feed at Netherfield Park.

Now we come to Longbourn where we find Mr. and Mrs. Bennet along with Mary. Who should they find on their doorstep? Wickham and Lydia with two children (at the very least - I haven't decided) with no servants, no nannies, and no money.

So let's do the math. 20 + 13 + 7 = More trouble than you could possibly conceive...

THURSDAY THREE HUNDRED ~ MARY

Welcome back, my lovelies. My Thursday 300 is from my next novel ~ Mary ~ which follows Georgiana. Now that my health is building strength, I hope to have her finished/published early next year. I may be healthier but I'm still a SLOW writer. Thank goodness you've stuck with me through all this.

I'm having fun, dabbling with Mary's story. She is a character I've come to love and I hope you will too. This scene takes place fairly early in the story, although as I flesh it out a bit more this scene could move down a few chapters.

Richard arrived late for Elizabeth’s dinner party and could hear that everyone had gathered in the front drawing room. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he slipped in through one of the servant’s doors, which brought him near where the pianoforte was positioned.

Upon entering he glanced around the milling guests and only turned to see who was playing when a discordant note was heard, followed by what could best be described as a soft growl. The pianist blew out a soft puff of air, rolled her shoulders and began playing again. Time stopped. There was no other way to describe the moment.

She was beautiful. How had he never noticed before how beautiful Miss Mary Bennet was? He paused in thought and realized that in all the family gatherings over the past few years he’d really never been properly introduced to her. He reasoned it was because the Bennet family was, in the loosest sense of the word, family. And if he were honest, he’d never taken notice of her because she always stayed in the background.

Now that he thought about it further, she usually played so the rest of them could dance. Had he seen her dance? He had a terrifyingly good memory and not once did he recall seeing Miss Bennet dance. Ever. Still unobserved by any of the guests, he took his time to assess the young woman seated at the pianoforte.

Her hair was lustrous and dark, similar in color and texture to Elizabeth. In fact, she favored her elder sister in many ways, with a heart shaped face and dark eyes, which at the moment were glaring at the music sheets as though they offended her. Another discordant note was heard. His heart almost thudded to a stop when she bit her lip in consternation, and as she mangled that full bottom lip with small white teeth, he determined that one day he would kiss her. The only question was when.

 Well? Do you think he's well on his way to being in love?

Finalist - Hook, Line & Sinker Contest

Bragging rights are about to happen.

Back in October 2018 I entered the first three pages of 'Mary: Pride & Prejudice continued... Book Four' into the RWA Hudson River Hook, Line, and Sinker contest. I'm happy to report that I made it to the finals (with a score of 149/150) and just yesterday I found out that I placed fifth over all. Not the win I'd like to crow about, but holy cow, fifth. AND if I scored almost perfect - what were the other contestants scores??? I think we're going to see a batch of excellent stories out this year. Can't wait.

I thought I'd share with you my almost winning entry and hope you enjoy it as much as the judges did.

At one and twenty, Miss Mary Bennet knew she was already considered a spinster by the village of Meryton. Her youngest sister Lydia married at the tender age of fifteen, followed quickly by Jane and Lizzy respectively. Then Kitty followed suit a scant two years later and Mary had watched from the sidelines as her sisters fell in love and married.

She was well aware that she was not traditionally ladylike like her siblings. Too forthright in her speech, she’d rather spend an evening playing the pianoforte to an evening in the company of friends, or heaven forfend, attend a ball. She had a pleasing figure, all her own teeth and, if she had one lick of vanity, it was her thick, beautifully curly, mahogany locks of hair.

Papa had finally settled on her a substantial dowry. With all her siblings out from under the eaves of Longbourn, he had the resources to add to the family coffers and she now had a nice tidy sum of four thousand pounds for any man willing to make an offer. And there was the rub. Someone needed to make an offer.

If anyone were to catalog all her attributes, they’d wonder how she’d gone so long without one single proposal. Without one single kiss. She didn’t count the quick peck the cobbler’s son gave her behind the church when she was fourteen. He’d pressed his lips against hers and tried to push his tongue into her mouth, which she promptly bit.

He barely spoke to her after that and frankly, she hadn’t cared. If kissing involved groping hands and tongues being shoved into one’s mouth, she didn’t wish to be kissed again. However, all her sisters seemed to like the fact their husbands kissed them, so maybe he’d got it all wrong.

She hastened her pace upon entering the village of Meryton. No one was even mildly bothered that she’d walked the mile and a half from Longbourn alone. She enjoyed the freedom of movement normally attributed to doddering old spinsters and widow’s long past looking for another husband. She was, to put it succinctly, unmarriageable.

“Good afternoon, Miss Bennet. Lovely day, ain’t it?” Mrs. Sheffield greeted her while sweeping the wooden boardwalk outside her shop.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Sheffield. It is a lovely day.”

“Have you read the newspaper today?”

“Papa keeps the paper to himself. Was there something of importance?”

“Oh, I’d say there were sumpthin’ important. Wait right ‘ere.”

Mrs. Sheffield leaned her broom against the outer wall and disappeared into the store, returning with The Gazette, which she handed to Mary and said, “Page Three”.

Mary took the paper and opened it to the suggested page. Emblazoned across the top was a bold headline, proclaiming: HRH, the Prince Regent Celebrates End of War. The article started by saying that to celebrate the end of the Peninsular War, the Prince Regent wished to stage an elaborate garden party for every person to whom titles were bestowed in the past fifteen years. Following a quick blurb of where and when the party was to be held, a list of all invitees was listed, marching down the page in five straight lines.

“I fail to see how a party the Prince Regent is holding affects me, Mrs. Sheffield.”

“I suggest y’take a look at the guest list. The names are in alphabetical order.”

To humor the kind woman, Mary began reading the names, gasping out loud when she came to the letter ‘B’. Mrs. Sheffield began to cackle at the look on her face.

“I told you it were important.”

“Excuse me.” Mary handed the paper back to Mrs. Sheffield. “I must go home.”

With that she spun on her heel and once out of sight of the village, nearly ran all the way back to Longbourn. When she arrived home, panting, the house was in a state of uproar.

“Mr. Bennet. What are we to do?” Her mother’s voice carried through the window to Papa’s book room. The quiet reply of her father could not be heard and it wasn’t until Mary actually entered the home that more of the conversation filtered out into the front hall.

“But I am forty-two years of age. How can I go through this now?” Mama’s voice had taken on near hysterical proportions.

“I am but fifty-three!”

The door to Papa’s book room opened and upon seeing Mary, he beckoned her inside. With a fair bit of apprehension, she did as he bade and joined them. Mama paced in front of the window while Papa settled at his desk.

“Your mother and I have some news and would appreciate if you kept this knowledge to yourself for a small amount of time.”

“Everyone will know about it soon enough,” Mama cried out and threw herself into the closest chair.

Mary suffered a quick internal debate on the merits of whether to share that the villagers of Meryton were well apprised of their good fortune or not. Deciding to cross that bridge when it arose, she pretended she had no foreknowledge and said, “I shall be the soul of discretion.”

“Thank you, although you won’t have to carry this secret for too long because, as your mother stated, the news will become evident in fairly short order.”

At that her mother wailed again and bolted for the door, flinging it open before rushing up the stairs. Startled, Mary watched, her mouth open. Was her mother not pleased that Papa had been elevated to the rank of Baron and she was now Lady Bennet?

“Don’t worry, Mary,” Papa said. “Your mother is only casting up her accounts because of the babe.”

How fun is that? Mary won't be published until later in the year. Given my current health status (surgery coming up in ten days) I'm struggling to get Georgiana done. I'm so close, only another twenty thousand words and I can begin edits and push my latest baby out into the world. Thanks for sticking with me through all of this.

Until then,