Available for pre-order ~ July 1, 2026
Showing posts with label Sweet Romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sweet Romance. Show all posts
Vignette! A Swoon worthy Darcy
There are times when I utterly love the way Mr. Darcy speaks to me, which in turn ends up in a book. Today was one of those days. I was struggling with the Darcy/Elizabeth romance near the end of the book. There are only so many ways to write 'I love you', and then THIS dropped into my brain, and - of course - I had to share it with You!
“If I could go back in time, I would travel back to October 15, 1811, and ask for an introduction to the most beautiful woman I know when Bingley badgered me to dance.”
“You would dance with Jane?” she teased.
He gave her a look of tender exasperation. “To me, you are the most beautiful woman in all of England.”
“I am glad you did not say ‘the world’, for then I would suggest that you require very thick spectacles.”
“You tease because I am making you uncomfortable.”
“Partially. I am not used to trumping Jane in the card game of looks and grace.”
“If it helps, you are my Queen of Hearts.”
“Fitzwilliam Darcy! When did you become a poet?”
“October 15, 1811,” came his earnest reply, “where at a horrid little assembly that I did not want to attend, my world tilted on its axis, and I have yet to regain my balance.”
Oh, please tell me that your heart just melted...
A New Hero for Jane!
I am working away on 'In Want of Connections', and am very pleased with a new character ~ Mr. Joshua Morgan. Actually, two new characters, he has a lovely sister named Gabriella, but her vignettes are small in comparison to her elder brother, who is Miss Jane Bennet's new love interest. Catch your interest???? I hope so. Today, I'm sharing a small scene, which exposes Bingley as a cad and Mr. Morgan as the hero.
So, no further delays, let us get on it like a bonnet!
IN WANT OF CONNECTIONS
Mr. Bingley motioned Jane back to her seat, then positioned his chair uncomfortably close before reaching for her hand. She drew back instinctively and fiddled with the tiny buttons on her glove to keep him from gaining purchase of her fingers.
“Mr. Bingley, I am uncomfortable with your attention. Please allow more distance between us.” Her voice remained steady despite the rapid flutter of her heart.
His brow furrowed. “Indeed? You once found my nearness agreeable.”
“Precisely – in the past. Eight months ago, to be more accurate. Circumstances have altered for us both, and I find this closeness inappropriate.”
With visible reluctance, he shifted his chair away.
“Why such formality, Miss Bennet? Do you not recall our Hertfordshire days as pleasant?” he asked with a childish pout she once might have found endearing.
“Sir, you have been gone from Meryton since November last. Those you leave behind do not remain stagnant while you live your life in another part of the country.” His eyes widened at her chastisement, but he remained silent. “I must inform you that, while I enjoyed your company last autumn, I am now betrothed to another gentleman.”
“Betrothed!” The word exploded from his lips like a gunshot.
“Yes, and we are on our way to visit family and finalise the wedding arrangements.”
“And yet you find yourself alone with me.” His expression became pensive. Calculating. The charming smile that had once captivated Hertfordshire society transformed into something predatory. “What would the earl say if he knew you had been placed in such a… compromising situation? Alone with a gentleman for whom you secretly yearned?”
“Mr. Bingley!” Jane rose to her full height. “You censured your sister’s rude behaviour, while forgetting to examine your own reflection. I bid you good day.”
As she turned to leave, he caught her from behind with surprising strength, twisting her around with fingers that would surely leave bruises on her arms, and forcibly pressed his mouth against hers, the taste of stale coffee on his tongue revolting her.
“I presume you have no plans of leaving today, sir,” came the deep, measured voice of Jane’s beloved from the doorway, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the room, “for I will meet you at dawn, at a place of your choosing.”
Jane wrenched away from Bingley and ran to Joshua, allowing him to wrap one arm around her slender shoulders while she sobbed into his chest.
“I have compromised Miss Bennet, and demand that we marry,” Bingley said, ignoring the challenge which had been laid at his feet.
“You cannot marry a woman who is betrothed to another, compromise or not. Now, choose your weapon of choice and find someone to be your second.”
“I shall not duel you.”
“Then you declare your honour as forfeit.”
“I do not.”
“You cannot have it both ways, Bingley,” Joshua said, ignoring the scoundrel’s look of astonishment that he was known to the gentleman even though they had never met. “Either you are a coward, seeing as you will not meet me on a field of honour after attacking a gentlewoman in a public inn, or a rake in the first order, also because you attacked a gentlewoman in a public inn. Which shall it be? Coward or rake?”
“I took nothing that was not offered!” he blustered out. “Ever since I have known Miss Bennet, she has thrown herself at me. Everyone knew she wanted me to marry her, and today, she all but asked me to kiss her.”
“Is that true, my dearest Miss Manners?” Joshua asked softly, glancing down at his fiancée.
“No, and you know the reasons why,” she replied, returning his gaze of deep love.
It was at that moment that Uncle Edward entered the room.
“Well, Morgan, the horses and carriages are ready to depart; we just need to round up our ladies and be off.”
“We may be delayed by a day,” Joshua said calmly. “I came across this gentleman opportuning Jane, and have called him out. He has yet to decide if he is a coward or a rake.”
Uncle Edward turned a gimlet eye in the direction of Mr. Bingley.
“Is he aware that you hold the fencing title at Cambridge, and the only person to defeat you more than once was Mr. Darcy?” Bingley’s eyes widened at the same time his face turned the colour of chalk. “Or, that you are a crack shot, on par with a military sharpshooter
“We had not gotten that far in our discussion, and I will concede that Darcy has out-fenced me more times than I care to admit.”
Jane stifled a smile at their seemingly innocuous banter, knowing it was sending a chill to the very marrow of Mr. Bingley’s bones. She felt no remorse or sympathy for the man – she refused to call him a gentleman; a point Mr. Morgan was making quite obvious.
There you go. I anticipate publishing this new story in May. Stay tuned for exact dates and purchase links. Until then,
New Plot Bunny
First - I AM working on A Rose By Any Other Name, but as most of you know, I absolutely must - MUST - have more than one oar in the water... *sigh* It's how my brain works. Anyhoo, I had a delicious plot bunny hop into my brain the other day, and before I knew it, almost three chapters sprang to life. To give you a taste, I'm sharing the scene that prompted Thumper to invade my brain. This work is currently untitled.
“Come, Darcy, I must have you dance.”
“You must?”
“Absolutely. I cannot be the only gentleman from our party who escorts these ladies around the room in time to music.”
“You are dancing with the only handsome woman in the room.”
“Yes, she is a tasty bit of muslin.”
“Do not.”
“Do not, what?”
“Do not dally with these ladies. This is a small, backwater town, not the ballrooms of London.”
“I will be careful. I have no intention of getting caught in the parson’s trap. I mean to learn the business of estate management, find a good estate to purchase, and maybe also find an acceptable wife.”
“Netherfield is a good enough estate to learn the basics, but I caution you about your other two points. It is easy to get caught up in the allure of a beautiful woman, and your sister expects you to marry well. Her future is tied to your success.”
“My sister wishes for her future to be tied to you.”
“That will never happen. If you do not make it clear to her, I shall.”
“I will speak to her – again. Now, about dancing. I still insist you must dance.” Mr. Bingley gave a hasty glance at who was situated near them. “I say, there is a pleasant enough looking young lady sitting behind us. Shall I ask my partner to make our introductions?”
Mr. Darcy glanced over his shoulder, then faced forward again.
“Her? Your sense of humour is in fine form tonight, Bingley. She is barely tolerable for someone of my consequence and lineage. It would be a punishment to stand up with her – Ow!”
***
Elizabeth Bennet did not know who she was more disgusted by. Mr. Bingley, or Mr. Darcy. Finally, she had had enough. She stood and stalked toward the two men. As she passed by, she pretended to stumble and, grateful for the little wooden heel affixed to her slipper, stomped hard on Mr. Darcy’s dancing slipper.
“Oh, I beg your pardon. How clumsy of me,” she exclaimed, straightening her posture. “May I get you some ice for your foot?”
“No, thank you, Madam. I require nothing from you.”
“Then, I shall bid you and your friend a good evening.”
With that, Elizabeth crossed to the middle of the dance floor where her eldest sister still awaited her absent dance partner, Mr. Bingley. Snagging Jane’s hand in hers, she dragged her off the floor toward the lady’s retiring room, an upset Mrs. Bennet not too far behind.
“Elizabeth, why did you force your sister to abandon Mr. Bingley? He is not only handsome, but has an income of five thousand a year!”
“He may have five thousand pounds a year, but in value as a gentleman, his worth is not even two pence.”
“What are you talking about? Everyone says he is the most amiable man.”
“Do you recall Mr. Nolan’s message last Sunday about wolves in sheep’s clothing? His message may have been planned for parents of young ladies regarding the upcoming militia encampment this winter, but after listening to the conversation between the amiable Mr. Bingley and the dour Mr. Darcy, I believe our Lord intended us to hear this message about those who now reside at Netherfield Park.”
“What did you hear?” Jane asked.
“I do not wish to hurt you, but it is better you know the truth.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Mr. Bingley said you were a tasty bit of muslin; however, he has no intention of getting caught in the parson’s trap, because he needs to find an appropriate wife who will not only raise his status but also aid his sister in finding a suitable husband.”
Jane’s face paled as Mrs. Bennet’s colour rose.
“You are, at the very least, a gentleman’s daughter!” Mrs. Bennet huffed out. “I am of a mind to write your mother’s sister, and inform her how her tenants are behaving.”
“Mamma, we all agreed to keep our relations secret. Jane and I enjoy the anonymity that Meryton provides. Besides, once I reach my majority, the truth shall come out.”
“I still think I should write your aunt. As the Queen’s first lady-in-waiting, she could put a little outside pressure on these gentlemen to behave.”
“Aunt Florence has more important things on her calendar. She does not need to add, rescue my only nieces from a pair of scoundrels.”
Mamma laughed, just as Elizabeth had hoped.
“Elizabeth Marie Rose Bennet, there are times you sound so much like your own mother, it makes me realize that even after eighteen years, I miss her.”
“From what you and Papa have said, she was a good friend.”
“That she was, and she never turned her nose up at me for being a solicitor’s daughter.” Mrs. Bennet pursed her lips. “I still think something should be done. You and Jane are distant cousins of the Queen. If Her Majesty knew—”
“No, Mamma. I do not want our prestigious cousin informed. She has so much drama in her life, what with her husband’s ill health and her son’s questionable behaviour. We shall leave her alone and come Christmas, enjoy a pleasant tea with her and Aunt Florence.”
“You are too good, Lizzy.”
“I am not. I am a woman who wants to be loved for myself, as does Jane.”
“That is true,” Jane finally added to the conversation. “I will admit, I thought Mr. Bingley was an amiable gentleman, but now that I know the truth of it, I shall treat him as an indifferent acquaintance.”
Just then, Elizabeth grinned.
“What? Why do you smile so widely?” Jane asked.
“I was imagining what Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy will do when, or if, they ever learn of our antecedents.”
“Do you think they will be upset that they had not courted the favour of some bona-fide royals in their midst?”
“I do, even if our maternal grandfather is monarch of a miniscule country.”
“I remember the first time your mother told me of her family. I was so scared; I physically shook in her presence. Your mother – God rest her soul – took my hand and squeezed, saying, Fanny, I put my stockings on one leg at a time. I have days when my hair is unmanageable and nothing goes my way. I am simply a woman who married for love.”
“I have no memories of her,” Elizabeth mused out loud.
“I have some, but they are vague and blurred by time,” Jane said quietly.
“That is why I speak openly of her,” Mamma soothed. “She was my friend, and when she knew she had so little time left before she passed, she encouraged your Papa and me to carefully consider marriage. Mainly because the two of you were so very young, and she knew I had great respect for your father. She was not wrong. Your dear mother was very wise.”
Tidbit Tuesday
Spring has sprung, the grass is riz... I wonder where my writing is?
For those of you patiently waiting, I am writing again! Winters are very hard on me. I have a skin condition (dishydrotic eczema) that precludes me from writing as I wear moisture gloves nearly 24/7. However, I began taking hyaluronic acid a month ago, which maintains and helps keep moisture in the skin, and the gloves are off - as are the moisture socks I've worn for over twelve years. Hallelujah!
Also, our granddaughter is thriving after her major surgery, so another load off my heart and shoulders. I am so thankful. Now I just have to get my brain back into writing mode and finish The Wager (which is nearly complete, only a few more chapters to go) and then I shall work further on the little piece of fluff I began on a lark - A Rose by Any Other Name.
Today I am sharing from Chapter Four of my Rose story and I hope you like my heroine's sense of humor. She's a tad snarky and a tad opinionated. We know her as Miss Grantley but can you guess her true identity? Let me know in the comments.
1811 London
There are times when I am dressing, or walking by a pier glass, that I sometimes startle at the person I see reflected. Do not think me mad. I know it is me, but I still do not recognize the lady who stares back, if that makes any sense.
I stand at five feet four inches, which is about two inches shorter than Mother. In my previous life, that is what I call my time before Father found me, I wonder if I have siblings and where I fit in the midst of them. I am not beautiful in the classical sense, but flatter myself that I am quite pretty and Mother says I have a lively playful disposition. Father calls me his ‘impertinent Miss’, but always with a gentle smile so I know he does not mean it in a spiteful way.
My figure is light and pleasing, which makes the modiste extremely happy. That, and the bonus Father pays her to finish my order promptly. I have dark blue eyes, giving a hint of a Nordic ancestor, framed by ridiculously long lashes. Mother has never seen the likes. My eyebrows frame my eyes satisfactorily, thank goodness. Penelope Hardcastle has her maid pluck unwanted hairs from between her brows and also to thin them. Danvers once plucked an errant strand and it was unexpectedly painful. I would not wish to have to do that regularly.
My nose is not too large and my mouth… well, other than my hair which is a luxurious mahogany, it is my favorite thing. Lusciously plump is what Wickham whispered in my ear at Lady Creighton’s ball before I tamped my heel down hard on his toes. I believe that is the only time I left a dance partner standing, or limping alone on the ballroom floor. For some unknown reason, that trumped-up son of a steward believes he has carte blanche when it comes to society functions. I am still angry at him. The way he leaned over and whispered in my ear in front of society’s prolific chin-waggers could have led to a disastrous compromise, and I have no intention of having my choice of husband taken from me. I have lost too much already in my life.
My internal musings were cut short by our butler informing me that Mrs. Louisa Hurst and her sister, Miss Bingley have presented their cards and wish to know if I am home to visitors. I hesitated briefly. I met them six months prior at a tea held by Mrs. Carmichael, a close acquaintance of Aunt Lucinda and now the sisters dogged my steps at every function we happen to attend at the same time. Lately, they have upped their pursuit and make a point of attending our townhouse weekly for tea.
Mrs. Hurst is a compliant lady. She does not say much and when she does, it is usually to agree with whatever her younger sister blathers on about. Miss Bingley is an avid social climber and at this moment in time, she believes my marriage portion along with my family name, is a rung in her ladder and she hopes to increase our connection by me falling in love with her brother, Mr. Charles Bingley.
That will not happen. We are a mismatched pair.
Please do not misunderstand me. I am not a society maven. For all I know I might very well be the daughter of a wealthy tradesman as easily as the daughter of a gentleman. My clothing from my previous life, which Mother preserved very carefully, indicates a gentle upbringing. So, it is not like I am thumbing my nose at Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst because I believe I am better than them, it is just that their brother… he is… I sighed. He is an adorable puppy. Amiable, fun-loving, wanting everyone to get along. He is a wonderful dance partner and when I am seated next to him at a ball or dinner party, I am tempted to pat him on the hand and praise him for being a good boy. When I meet the man I wish to marry, I definitely do not want to give him a lolly and tell him to go play with his toys in the next room.
At times, I do not believe he wishes to become leg-shackled to me either. For one, he has not once called me an ‘angel’. It is his favorite attribute to any lady he fancies himself in love with. Clarissa Hornblower comes to mind. I truly hope she marries soon and retires that name to her marriage lines and the family Bible, poor girl. Mr. Bingley was mad about her for at least three weeks before he discovered another golden-tressed angel, Tiffany, or was it, Theodora? They have all blended into a mish-mash of fair beauties over the few months in which I have made the acquaintance of Miss Bingley. Regardless, I welcome his friendship as it is unassuming and I know my honor is never in jeopardy with him. I think he would rather swallow his tongue than compromise a young lady. Unlike that toad, Wickham.
Goodness, I truly am angry with that… that man. I refuse to call him a gentleman. Firstly, he does not behave as one and secondly, he was not born into the station nor has he the funds to purchase an estate. I believe he thought my marriage portion of thirty thousand pounds, along with being the sole heir of Father’s estate and holdings, would pave his way into the card rooms of Boodles or Whites. The only place I see him residing, given his penchant for gambling and carousing, is debtor’s prison. I have no idea where he has gotten the funds to wine and dine society’s elite, but however much he had in his pocket at the beginning of the year, it has been lightened quite substantially. I overheard some gentlemen talking about the high-stakes card game he lost back in March and still shake my head at the thought of a thousand pounds flowing through his fingers over the course of a few hours. This would explain his unwelcome attempt to woo me on the dance floor. I shudder to think what would have happened if he had stumbled across me in an alcove, or when I stepped outside to cool my cheeks on the terrace.
Mother is correct. I must be aware of my surroundings at all times, much like now. Our butler awaits me patiently as I hesitate over whether I am home or not to the Bingley sisters. As it is threatening to rain, curtailing my walk through Hyde Park, I tell Pritchard I am home to the ladies and ring for tea.
Snippet Sunday ~ Twin Tentacles of Doom
Sometimes when writing, I surprise myself. In writing this next scene, little did I know I was about to gift the Bingley sisters with a new moniker to proclaim as their own. This snippet is from my Work In Progress, The Wager.
EXCERPT
“I understand you have family
here in Meryton, Miss Hamilton.”
“I do,” Jane
replied. “My mother’s sister is married to Mr. Phillips.”
“How lovely,
and is Mr. Phillips busy with his little shop?” Miss Bingley asked before
raising her fingers to hide a smile.
“My uncle is an
attorney. He is the one who negotiated the lease your brother signed to rent
Netherfield Park.”
Miss Bingley
pursed her lips at being reminded they did not own the estate where she rested
her head at night but rented it from another. Regardless of this annoyance, she
continued with her line of questioning, solidifying Elizabeth’s belief she had
a nefarious purpose for the unexpected invitation to tea.
“Does this same
uncle have his own estate?”
“His eldest
brother inherited the family estate in Surrey.”
“Our dear Uncle
Phillips is a second son,” Elizabeth interjected, not wanting Jane to reveal
their beloved uncle’s father was a baron. “He chose to follow the law instead
of taking orders, which brought him to our corner of Hertfordshire.”
“A choice Aunt Martha
is very glad of,” Mary added before she took a small bite of her cake.
“Your other
uncle,” Caroline continued as though neither Elizabeth nor Mary had spoken. “He
is in trade, yes?”
Jane nodded in
the affirmative.
“Our uncle is
very successful. He and his wife live in London.”
“In Cheapside,
I heard.”
“Near
Cheapside, on Gracechurch Street.”
“I imagine he
lives there in order to keep a watchful eye on his property,” Miss
Bingley tittered and slid a sly glance toward Mrs. Hurst.
Elizabeth’s
anger began to simmer. What was supposed to be a pleasant tea had turned into
an inquisition where the perpetrator believed she had all the answers and only
wished to humiliate her guests.
“Speaking of
property, remind me again Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth began with false sweetness.
“In which county we can find your father’s estate?”
She would have
gone further, but Jane laid a warning hand on her forearm.
“Enough,
Lizzy,” she said in a soft undertone.
An odd sound
came from Mary and both turned their attention toward her.
“Jane,” she
said in a small voice. “I do not feel well.”
Mary then
doubled over and struck her head hard enough on the floor to render her
unconscious. Both Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst emitted tiny screams.
“Miss Bingley, is
there any fish in these cakes?” Jane demanded as she hurried to Mary’s side,
gently lifting her sister’s head to rest on her lap.
“How would I
know?”
“Please find
out if there was.”
Miss Bingley
continued to gape and cast panicked glances toward her eldest sister. Mrs.
Hurst seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation and hurried to the bell
pull. Only when a footman stepped into the room did Miss Bingley snap out of
her stupor.
“You there,”
she demanded and pointed at the footmen. “Have Mrs. Nickers attend us and send
a maid to ask the cook what was in the cakes she sent up for our tea.”
The footman cast
a quick glance at Mary lying on Jane's lap before hurrying from the room.
Elizabeth heard Mrs. Hurst murmur to her sister, “Her name is Mrs. Nicholls.”
“Oh, who cares.
She is just a housekeeper.”
At that moment,
the butler entered the room. Most likely to investigate why some of the ladies
had screamed.
“What may I do
to help, Ma’am,” he queried, addressing Jane, not Miss Bingley.
“Send Jeremy
for Mr. Jones, he is the fastest rider of all the footmen. Tell him Miss Bennet
is having one of her reactions and we need him post haste.” The butler turned
to do her bidding, stopping when Jane called out again. “Cardston, after that,
please find Mrs. Nicholls and tell her I need water for drinking as well
as to wipe Mary’s face, it will help cool and relax her.”
Cardston
withdrew to do her bidding, completely ignoring the gaping mouth of his
temporary mistress.
“Who do you
think you are, to order about our servants as if they are your own?” Miss
Bingley demanded. “It is not as though your sister is dying.”
Jane’s eyes
flashed with anger upon hearing such a callous comment. Elizabeth was not at
all surprised by her sister’s reaction. She and Jane could and did withstand
the barbs and insults of ignorant people, but woe betide the person who
attacked her family. Fortunately, for Miss Bingley, Mary stirred and her eyes
fluttered.
“Relax, dearest,”
Jane soothed as she gently stroked her sister’s cheek. “You hit your head on
the floor and were rendered unconscious.”
“Jane…”
Whatever it was that Mary wished to say would never be known because she
promptly rolled to her side and vomited onto the carpet.
The outraged
gasps of Miss Bingley would sustain Elizabeth for days, but only after her
sister recovered. Any further outbursts were stymied by the arrival of Mrs.
Nicholls, who bustled into the room with a couple of maids, bringing water and
clean rags.
“Thank you,
Mrs. Nicholls,” Jane said, overriding any comment Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst
may have made. “Prepare the green guest room for Mary and have Cardston direct
Mr. Jones there when he arrives.”
“Right away,
La−, Miss Hamilton.”
“Who are you to
give orders to my servants?”
“I have neither
the time nor the inclination to answer your questions, Miss Bingley.” Jane
caressed Mary’s brow with tender affection. “My sister’s recovery is my only
priority.”
Although she
wished to lend comment, Elizabeth stayed quiet. This was Jane’s fight, not
hers. Two hours later, an exhausted Mary lay sleeping in one of the guest rooms
after a thorough examination by Mr. Jones. Fortunately, she had only taken a
bite of one small cake.
“Will she be
able to come home tomorrow, Mr. Jones?” Jane asked, her attention riveted to
the still form of her sister lying in the bed. Elizabeth sat by the side of the
bed, holding Mary’s hand in hers.
“Miss Hamilton,
your sister has suffered one of her Idiosyncrasy’s. It is as I told you when
she had her last spasmodic symptom, her body reacts in a different manner to
some foods. The last time it was lobster. Do we know what she ingested today?”
“Miss Bingley learned
some of the cakes had crab in them,” Elizabeth offered in reply.
“Ahh…this is
good to know. It seems Miss Bennet must avoid ingesting any type of fish.” Mr.
Jones paused, as if in deep thought. “Has she ever reacted to lake trout?”
“Not that I am
aware of,” Jane said. “We have trout regularly during the summer months. My Uncle
Gardiner is an avid angler and loves to fish our stream, allowing us to enjoy
the spoils of his labor.”
“Fascinating.
It seems Miss Bennet only reacts to oceanic species of shellfish,” Mr. Jones
murmured. “I will write one of my friends in Town and see if he has any further
insight into these types of maladies.”
“So, Mary can
come home tomorrow?” Jane asked.
“As far as her
reaction to food, she is fine. However, she struck her head quite hard, which
is the reason she became violently ill. She must rest quietly, and it is
imperative she is awakened every four hours.”
“I shall stay
with her, Jane,” Elizabeth offered.
“Are you certain?”
“After your
little dust-up with Miss Bingley, I believe a strategic retreat is called for you to regroup your serenity.”
Once Mary rested quietly, the remaining sisters returned to the drawing room. Jane to
say her goodbyes to Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, and Elizabeth to see her
safely off and confer with their hostess about what Mr. Jones had requested
regarding food and drink for Mary. The doors to the drawing room remained
partially open and the strident tones of Miss Bingley clearly carried into the
hall.
“What did Miss
Hamilton mean? Ordering our servants around like this was her own home. I
declare those Bennet sisters are the main reason I wish to quit this horrible
place.”
Quick footsteps
could be heard and a low murmur from Mrs. Hurst.
“I do not care,
Louisa. They are below us, practically dirt farmers with two impoverished
step-daughters and their estate entailed away. We must get Charles away from
Miss Hamilton. She will drag him down into the mud with her and ruin my chances
of making a successful marriage.”
Elizabeth not
only felt Jane stiffen but saw her draw back her shoulders.
“Do nothing you
will regret later, Jane,” she cautioned. “Words may pierce our pride and sting
our memories but they cannot change who we are and the life we will lead once
Trenton comes home.”
“While our lives will alter when our brother returns in a few short weeks, I
am tired of the snide remarks and underhanded comments that perpetually spring
forth from Mr. Bingley’s sisters.” Jane turned cerulean blue eyes toward her sister
and smiled wide enough to crinkle their corners. “I believe it is time for those
two ladies to be schooled in proper etiquette.”
“As you know,
there is no love lost between Miss Bingley and me, and in most circumstances, I
would wholeheartedly agree, but – think on this – if you reveal our rank, are
you prepared for that woman and her sister to grovel and toady for your
attention.”
“Now that I am
aware of their true sentiments, I have no desire to acknowledge them in any
form.” She paused and her expression turned thoughtful. “Unless I continue to
accept Mr. Bingley’s attentions.”
“Is his
affection worth the twin tentacles of doom waiting for us in the next room?”
“I confess I am
uncertain.” Jane took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I suppose we shall
find out over the next few weeks.”
#1 Best Seller!
My latest baby is two weeks old and has already achieved not one, but two!! orange banners. Thank you, dear readers. You are the only ones who make this possible.
If you haven't yet read Longbourn's Angels, you can get your copy HERE, exclusively on Amazon, Kindle Unlimited.
NEW RELEASE
Longbourn's Angels
.Elizabeth and Jane Bennet have their very own guardian angels in the form of elder twin brothers, Michael, and Gabriel, who are on high alert when Meryton is suddenly flooded with eligible gentlemen. One is honorable although a tad too proud, one is a known flirt always on the lookout for his next ‘angel,’ and one is a garrulous bore. All of them have their eye on a Bennet sister.
The brother’s protective instincts are further heightened when a dangerous predator arrives in their sleepy village, and more than one lady learns that evil can appear in the guise of a handsome man.
Where there is no wood, the fire goes out.
In this retelling of Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice, new and old friendships are forged in bonds of steel while others are lost in the waves of gossip.
Available now, exclusively on Amazon's Kindle Unlimited. Purchase your copy HERE
FRIDAY WITH FRIENDS ~ SOFI LAPORTE
Today, I welcome Sofi Laporte to my Friday with Friends post.
About the Book:
A spirited young lady with a dream. A duke in disguise. A compromising situation.
Lucy hates Dukes.
One in particular: her best friend’s brother, the arrogant Duke of Ashmore. A man she’s never met. Because of him, she’s lost the only home she’s ever known.
She can’t forgive him. Ever.
Lucy loves gardeners.
One in particular: the charming Henry whose eyes shine in a million colours of blue. How lovely would life be if she were a simple gardener’s wife?
What if…
…that charming gardener reveals himself to be the Duke of Ashmore?
Will she ever be able to embrace who he is?
Leaving cheerful mayhem in her wake as she overturns the duke’s estate, his house, and his entire life, Lucy is certain of one thing: she loves the gardener, not the duke.
As they match wits, Lucy learns he is not the arrogant duke she thought.
Who exactly is this man, this Duke of Secrets?
Will her love ruin those dearest to her heart?
For the Duke of Secrets is not the only one wearing a disguise.
Lucy and the Duke of Secrets is available HERE
A little taste:
“Excuse me, sir. I need your help. I missed the stagecoach.” Lucy clutched her travel-worn carpetbag as she addressed the burly man behind the bar. He turned to her with a frown.
She held her breath as his sharp, beady eyes appraised her figure, noting her drab brown dress, her threadbare pelisse. She tugged at the bonnet ribbon, setting it askew, so her unruly, bouncing curls spilled over her eyes. She flipped her hair away. Darting a glance at his face, she saw the disapproving set of his jaw. He’d see a girl travelling alone, without a companion. Without any class, style, or money.
“Not my problem.” He turned away to pick up a dirty rag. With his other hand, he picked up a wine glass and proceeded to polish it with a squeak.
“Please. I need to be at Ashmore Hall before nightfall.” Lucy twisted her hands in an agitated manner. She felt the first flutters of panic unfurl in her stomach.
He paused. “Ashmore Hall, eh? The Duke of Ashmore’s residence?”
“The very same.”
A look of alertness entered his eyes. “You in service there?”
Lucy hesitated. “Well…”
“You’re starting out, maybe?”
“I’m new there.” That was definitely true.
The innkeeper’s face softened. “My daughter’s in service, too. Up North. The Duke of Ashmore doesn’t just employ anyone. Tough luck, starting the first day late. You’ll lose your job before you’ve even begun.”
“Can’t you help me?” She had to reach Ashmore Hall before nightfall. She couldn’t afford to stay at the inn. Her breath quickened at the thought of spending the night by the side of the road.
He set the glass down. “You sure you want to go there?”
“Oh, yes. It’s urgent.”
“Very well.” He jerked his chin toward the window. Outside, a man loaded bushes into a cart. “Try talking to that fellow over there. He’s on his way to Ashmore Hall. Ask him for a ride.”
Lucy could have hugged him. Instead, she quirked a relieved smile at him. “Thank you! I’ll not forget your kindness.”
~~~ooo0ooo~~
The man in the outer courtyard was tall and rough looking. He carried a Hawthorne bush over his shoulder, a second under the other arm. The cart was almost full.
“Sir?” Lucy stepped in his path.
“Move aside,” he growled. “This is heavy stuff coming through.” He stepped around her and dropped the plants onto the cart. Then he pulled out a rope and tied it around the end of the wagon to keep them from falling off.
“Yonder innkeeper informed me you could give me a ride. I missed my coach and the next one arrives tomorrow, late in the afternoon. But I can’t wait that long.”
The man gave no appearance of having heard a word she’d said. He climbed into his seat.
She followed him. “Please?”
“Do I look like a stagecoach?”
But Lucy would not be deterred. “It would be so very kind of you if you’d take me along.”
“There’s no space.”
“Up here next to you there is, if you moved aside a bit? I don’t need much space. It’s just me and my bag here.” She patted her carpetbag.
The speckled hat shadowed the man’s face. “Move, girl, you are making my horses nervous.”
“Please, please, please take me along, I really need to reach Ashmore Hall by nightfall. I won’t be a bother.” The pitch of her voice elevated to a panicked squeak.
He lifted his whip, then froze. “Ashmore Hall?”
“Yes.”
The man turned and looked at her for the first time, taking in her travel-worn clothes and dusty boots. She held her breath. “Are you employed there?”
“What if I am? I need to be there before night falls. I can’t afford a room here.”
He stared at her with hooded eyes. Then he shrugged and let his whip slash through the air.
The cart rumbled slowly towards the gate. She threw her bag down in frustration. It landed in a puddle. “Oh, blast it all. Why can’t Arabella live in a more accessible place? Now what am I going to do?”
The carriage came to a halt. The man stared ahead, immobile. Then he called out, “What are you waiting for, girl? I haven’t got all day.”
It took Lucy a moment to comprehend what he meant. Relief swept through her. She picked up her muddied bag and scrambled into the driver’s seat next to him.
“Thank you, oh, thank you, thank you,” she said, breathlessly. Then she clung to his arm as the carriage set in motion again and she nearly tumbled out again.
“I’ve a feeling I’ll regret this,” he muttered as he untangled himself from her.
About the Author:
Sofi was born in Vienna, grew up in Seoul, studied Comparative Literature in Maryland, U.S.A., and lived in Quito with her Ecuadorian husband. She’s worked as a journalist, university lecturer, foreign language teacher and librarian. Sofi likes coffee, owls, ruins and books. When not writing – she is always reading – she likes to travel and scramble about the countryside exploring medieval castle ruins. She currently lives with her husband, three trilingual children, a sassy cat and a cheeky dog in Europe.
Sofi started out as a YA fantasy romance author, with stories published in the following Dragon Soul Press anthologies: Lost Love, First Love, Sea of Secrets, Coffins, and Dragons, as well as a selection of poetry in Organic Ink I. Two of her children’s stories are published in Magic for Beginners: Magical stories for Kids, and anthology by Fantasia Divinity Press.
Currently, she writes sweetly simmering Regency Romance with mischievous, witty banter and heart-throbbing-happily-ever-after.
Connect with Sofi HERE
Thank you, Sofi, for joining me today. Your story sounds wonderful and is already picking up lovely reviews on Amazon.
FOUR STARS ~ REVIEW
From the desk of Sophia Rose:
I have been aware of Sue Barr’s work since she released the first book in her Pride and Prejudice Continued series, Caroline. My curiosity was aroused when she chose to continue Austen’s classic story with the memorable side character and didn’t hesitate to redeem Caroline Bingley and give her a chance at happiness in an unlikely place. Then it was Kitty Bennet’s turn in book two, Catherine, who fell hard for a man who was not what he seemed. And, here we have the third book, Georgiana, with Mr. Darcy’s little sister stepping out of the shadows of her past and becoming the current heroine.
Georgiana is recovered physically and emotionally from her youthful mistake with George Wickham, but now that she is on the cusp of her presentation and entrance into London society, she wonders if she is truly ready or if she will be fooled again. If only Max Kerr, Duke of Adborough, the kind gentleman who put her at ease and made her feel they belonged, felt the same way about her as she did for him. Their families are friendly, and she knows they could be happy. Instead, she hears nothing from Max and now must face a London season of discovering the difference between those who would pursue her for her fortune. She has her family around her, but the danger still circles and, in the end, after a painful, winding road, can she let trust grow and forgiveness heal so she can find love with the right man.
Georgiana was a story that I read out of order and from which I still found great enjoyment. I had no trouble doing so because the early chapters caught the reader up on the two previous books and the news of the family. However, it is something of a series spoiler because it shares what happened with the earlier couples to a certain extent. So, if a reader likes to get all the surprises and story as it happens, then it is best to start at the beginning with Caroline.
As to the story, the first half was gently paced, sweet, and rather predictable. Georgie was an adorable heroine and easy to like and wish well. She wants to be done with her past and have the love and friendship she sees in her brother’s marriage and those of her friends. She knows she can have that with Max but is not certain he sees her the same way. Max’s perspective alternates with Georgiana’s so the reader does know what Max is thinking and it’s all going on swimmingly toward a rapid conclusion even if there are sharks in the water after Georgie’s fortune and match-making mamas intent on Max as a future son in law.
But, then, I was left goggling at my reading device. I knew there had to be something that gummed up the works since they were well on their way to Happily Ever After at the half-way point. But, holy misunderstandings, Batman! I thought for sure I was reading one of those dream-land alternate reality things that happen when people fall asleep and I was so confused by the radical turn of events. That makes two of us because poor Georgie was equally in the dark and it is only after some time has passed that Max’s actions – well, I wouldn’t say they make sense, per se because I really felt the man went off the rails—but I got an explanation. And, this forces a more emotional, harder-earned romance situation for the second half.
While, I can appreciate—and I do—that the book was not some fluffy no-conflict story that was pretty much over halfway through and would have just dragged on too syrupy sweet to be endured, I also felt quite jarred by everyone rushing into high alt starting with Max and ending with Georgie’s relations. It felt out of character for several and took me out of the story a bit.
But, in the end, I loved the beautiful way this romance pair made efforts and built something stronger together as a result.
This was my first opportunity to read one of Sue Barr’s books. I enjoyed her writing style and her characters and the way she wrote a romance that was surrounded by family and friends. I want to read the earlier books and would eagerly pick up future releases. I would recommend this book/series to those who enjoy sweet, heartwarming Austenesque sequels or stories about the secondary characters.
4 out of 5 Stars
WEEKEND WRITING WARRIORS #72
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.
P.S.: Air Hug someone you love today
FIRST PAGE FRIDAY ~ MELANIE RACHEL
How do you express excitement on a blank white page? Loads of exclamation marks and GIFs of Charlie Brown's dog Snoopy doing the Snoopy Dance?
That's how I feel about today's guest, Melanie Rachel. She has penned a poignant Austen variation of Pride and Prejudice, where Elizabeth is NOT a Bennet. *gasp* How can that be? Well, dear reader, that's why you must purchase her book and devour it like my family does turkey dinner at Thanksgiving.
Take it away, Mel...
That's how I feel about today's guest, Melanie Rachel. She has penned a poignant Austen variation of Pride and Prejudice, where Elizabeth is NOT a Bennet. *gasp* How can that be? Well, dear reader, that's why you must purchase her book and devour it like my family does turkey dinner at Thanksgiving.
Take it away, Mel...
~~~oo0ooo~~~
I’m a fan of the “Elizabeth is not a Bennet” trope.
Kidnapping is only one of the branches on that tree, but after reading the plot
bunny, I couldn’t resist. When I sat down to write the set-up, I knew the story
wouldn’t be about the kidnapping itself so much as it would be about the impact
that crime had on everyone in the story, directly or indirectly. I think an
event like this causes a lot of ripples and even some riptides—there would be
so many effects that are invisible on the surface. As a writer, that’s the sort
of thing I like to play with.
Having said that, we have to have the kidnapping
before everything else can be set in motion. So that’s the “almost” first page
I’m excerpting here today. I hope you enjoy it!
I Never Knew Myself is available at Amazon. You can order your copy HERE
First Page:
Daniel Windham pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “Ellie already has too much freedom, Maria. Really, what will you say when she wishes to attend Eton with her brother? We cannot allow her to parade around the grounds like a boy.”
“Oh Daniel,” Maria replied, waving her hand in the air. “Do not fuss. She is four and, may I remind you, has learnt her stubbornness from her Papa. If you forbid her to wear it, you will have a battle. If you say nothing, she will change her clothes without coercion and, I daresay, will do so in less than an hour.”
There was a chorus of young voices in the entryway, and Windham followed the noise to the door of the drawing room. His wife’s Fitzwilliam cousins were visiting, along with their cousin Fitzwilliam Darcy, whose mother had recently entered her confinement. They were all making ready to head out of doors. There was a great divide in age between the visitors and his children, but his nephew Malcolm, the future earl and the eldest at eighteen, did not see it as beneath his dignity to take his young cousins out to play. In fact, all three boys seemed to enjoy entertaining the lively Windham brood.
In the middle of all the excitement was his four-year-old sprite of a daughter, hopping up and down, dressed in an old, cut-down livery. It was a dark red with yellow piping and tiny tan breeches. The material from the old livery had largely been put to other purposes, but Robert had rescued this one from a rag bag somewhere. He had begged to have it as an army uniform and Maria had herself cut it down for him. His daughter was now preening in it as though it was a ballgown. He shook his head at her. Breeches. “Good day, Miss Ellie Windham,” he said, sweeping her up into his arms, “or shall we call you Master Eli instead?”
Elizabeth scowled, her face a black cloud. “Ellie is my name, Papa. I am Ellie.”
“Very well, my girl,” Windham said, placing a quick kiss on his daughter’s forehead. He gazed at her little face, a tiny copy of her mother’s. Large dark eyes with long black eyelashes, a small pouty mouth, cherry red lips, a delicate little nose, long dark curls. He sighed, knowing it was hopeless. He could deny her nothing.I am going to fast forward to the end of the first chapter where disaster strikes...
Fitzwilliam Darcy would never forget the sound of Richard’s shout. It was loud, of course, and angry—but the fear that ripped through the single word sent a frozen shock to his very heart. No, Richard cried, and began to run. No!
He and Malcolm turned back toward the house to follow Richard’s movement, and then they saw it, too. The nurse who had been following Elizabeth back to the house was holding young John tightly. She finally let out a shriek—but it was weak, and the woman seemed unable to move. Before her, headed their way but slightly to the west, was a masked man galloping away on a large, powerful black horse. He held the reins tightly in one hand.
His other arm was wrapped around a wriggling Ellie Windham.
Malcolm tossed Robert over his shoulder and raced back to the house as the little boy screamed for his sister. Richard was chasing the horse down the approach, but it was already past him and William knew it was hopeless. He whirled around to glare at the woods that covered this side of the property, remembered there was a stream and a field beyond. The road wound down for a half-mile before it turned to the south. If they cut across the field . . .
“Richard!” he yelled and darted away.
He dodged trees and roots, skidded down a soft bank and jumped over the stream, then clambered up the other side. Lungs burning, he burst through the woods into a brown field. He never stopped, his legs and arms pumping hard, breaths coming in quick gasps. As he reached the center of the field, heading toward the far end, he caught the rider out of the corner of his eye. He took a huge breath of air and increased his speed.
His feet hit the hard ground of the road just as the horse was racing past about six feet away. It shied and reared, and William took advantage of the moment to stretch his arms out and lunge. Time slowed as Elizabeth reached her small arms out to him—he nearly had one of her hands—and then she was jerked away roughly, and William grabbed nothing but air, bounced off the horse’s rear flank and landed unceremoniously on his back in the dust of the road.
Before William could recover, they were out of his reach, hurtling down the road, leaving him on his knees and gulping for air. He was only barely aware that Richard had arrived and was bent over at the waist, huffing and puffing next to him. All he could hear were the horse’s hooves beating against the dry ground as it drew farther away.
He felt Richard’s hand on his shoulder and turned his face up to meet his cousin’s tortured gaze.
He’d been so close. But Ellie was gone.
About the Author:
Melanie Rachel is a university professor and long-time Jane Austen fan. She was born in Southern California but has lived in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Washington, and Arizona, where she now resides with her family and their freakishly athletic Jack Russell terrier. Her previous novels include Drawing Mr. Darcy: Sketching His Character (Book One) and Drawing Mr. Darcy: A Faithful Portrait (Book Two) as well as Courage Rises and Courage Requires and Headstrong, a modern P&P adaptation trilogy.
Even though I read I Never Knew Myself on A Happy Assembly, I have already purchased this heartwarming story for my Kindle. Can you tell I'm a bit of a fan girl? True dat.
P.S.: Remember to hug someone you love today, because as Mel's story will show, you never know what the future holds.
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