This is the fourth and final book in the Pride & Prejudice continued series, revolving around Miss Mary Bennet and Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. At this time, there is no blurb but we can tease you with the first chapter.
Enjoy
Chapter One
“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 has not 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
quickly read the headline which heralded a royal celebration slated for the
middle of next month. Beneath the introduction were two columns filled with
names and counties.
“The Palace is desirous
of a celebration and, as such, invites all those granted a title or knighted 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
is 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. Darcy 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 Longbourn since the year of our Lord 1801 and Papa never told
her?”
“It appears so.”
“Oh my, what I would give
to be a fly on the wall of Papa’s library when Mama finds out her husband is a viscount.”
“You know, I always
wondered what he meant the morning of our wedding.”
“What was that?”
“While your mother
orchestrated who would ride in what carriage after the wedding service, he’d muttered
‘All this to do about nothing. It is
almost as bad as St. James’s 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
dear, they’ll never be friends now.”
“Were they ever?”
“They have… I guess you would call it a mutually polite
acquaintance.”
“Wait until she realizes you out rank even me,” Darcy teased.
Lizzy rose from her chair and circled behind her husband of
three 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 my mother. She will help contain the
predictable 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 will 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 is 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.”
~~~
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 three and twenty alongside her other
sister who at the time was not even two 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 had gone so long without one single proposal. Without one single kiss. Well,
there’d been one when she was just turned fourteen, but she did not 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 had not cared.
If kissing involved groping hands and tongues shoved into one’s mouth, she did
not 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 would 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 her mother thought her chances were nil.
She hastened her pace upon entering the village of Meryton. No
one seemed bothered by the fact that she had 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, 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 or knighted, followed by a quick blurb of
where and when the party would be held. A list of all invitees marched down the
page in two 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 were easily heard through
the open window of the library. 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?” Her
mother’s voice had escalated to near-hysterical proportions.
The door to the study 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, a flimsy lace handkerchief pressed to her
forehead.
Mary did not 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 will not 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.
“Do not worry, Mary,” Papa said. “Your mother is only casting
up her accounts because of the babe.”