Guest post on childbirth at Austenesque Reviews

I'm over at Austenesque Reviews today with a guest post on childbirth, one of the big themes from A Change of Legacies.

Writing JAFF as a feminist, and a Temporary Mistress excerpt

I've been wanting to expand on something I wrote about a bit in the author's notes of A Change of Legacies, around how Regency women became the property of their husbands, after marrying. This was a sinister theme, in Georgiana's dreams in Legacies, because once she spoke those words at Gretna Green, she became the property of George Wickham, something she was too young to really understand the consequences of until it was too late.

Really, all of the restrictions preventing hasty marriages in England (and therefore requiring couples who wished to elope to hie off to Scotland) were designed to protect men's property: their daughters, who came with dowries and were of best benefit to men if they could be married to make connections with other important families. Darcy is able to seek an annulment for Georgiana's marriage (albeit with complications) because he and Colonel Fitzwilliam had not given their consent to the marriage, and so Wickham has, in essence, stolen their property.

Let's just take a step back and think about that for a moment. Elizabeth is Mr. Darcy's property. Georgiana is Captain Stanton's property.

I hope it never feels that way in my stories, because I have very much endeavored for that to not be the tone of any of my married couples' relationships. But it was the reality, and part of the reason I wished to include Georgiana's dream storyline was to show that reality. When a woman accepted a marriage proposal, she was in essence giving herself over to a man for life, and if she chose badly, she would ruin her life.

As much as I love the Regency era, I am also a pretty staunch feminist, and it's sometimes difficult to square that with writing about women who are in this situation. All I can really do is write them in marriages where their husbands respect them, listen to their opinions, and do not treat them like property.

Elizabeth and Darcy are the best example of this -- they get up to arguments and misunderstandings with relative frequency, and Elizabeth is always allowed to spar her corner. Never, ever, will Darcy simply overrule her and determine she doesn't have a say, because he is the man. He fell in love with this woman's lively mind, and while she may occasionally frustrate him, he always respects that mind. Even that he puts up with her calling him "Darcy," after his initial protest in the Constant Love series, indicates a certain respect towards her: he allows her to call him what his male friends do, putting her on equal footing with them.

These themes have come through, I think, even more strongly in Temporary Mistress, my little (okay, possibly not so little anymore -- it's reached novel-length) side project. I shared the prologue of the working draft back when it first ate my brain, and thought I would share an excerpt very relevant to this particular topic. If it's been awhile since you read the prologue excerpt, recall that Elizabeth is now widowed and the heiress of Longbourn, following an unhappy marriage of necessity to Mr. Collins:

Although Mrs. Bingley had provided an excellent meal, Darcy could hardly eat, in his present state of excitement. Elizabeth – glorious Elizabeth! – was just up the table from where he sat, amongst the unmarried ladies and gentlemen. She was there and looked as lovely as ever, in the palest lavender dress, laughing and conversing with those beside her. He had wondered, upon learning she was once again a possibility due to Mr. Collins’s untimely demise, if he had spent the past few years making her more wonderful in his mind than she truly was, maintaining a love for an imagined Elizabeth rather than the real one. But she was every bit as he had remembered her, and he believed he loved the real Elizabeth even more, for there were details and nuances to her that he had forgotten.

Oh, those torturous early days, after reading of Mr. Collins’s decease. How he had longed to go to her, to declare himself. It had been Georgiana who had counseled patience, after he had opened up his heart to her. Georgiana, who had regained her confidence and her happiness, who was mature enough to be giving him advice, now. Nothing should be done while Mrs. Collins was in mourning, except to send a letter of condolence. He had hoped, perhaps, that his letter might become the beginning of a correspondence between them, but her response, while polite, had left him no opening; there was nothing within that could be responded to.

So he had waited, and tried to determine some natural way in which he could be returned to her acquaintance. In that, his encountering Charles at White’s, and making his apology and the first overtures of renewing their friendship, had been the deepest blessing. Their friendship was not what it once had been; it had been renewed with caution, and still felt a delicate, awkward thing. Yet it had been renewed, and Darcy was grateful for it, even beyond its providing the opportunity for him to be here. How impatient he had been in Gibraltar, upon receiving Charles’s invitation to the house party at Netherfield. Of all things, to be kept from his second chance by war!

But he was there, now, and he would seize his second chance, although he would keep Georgiana’s counsel and go about things patiently. In his last visit to Netherfield, he had not done anything to indicate his affections; he would do so now, gradually, and seek to understand her own. She was a widow, and he could not yet know what the state of her heart was; perhaps she had come to love Mr. Collins. Elizabeth glanced down the table at him, and he smiled. She returned the smile, and even this simple thing gave him hope.

Darcy made an attempt to apply himself to the food, so as not to be caught looking at her too often. When next he did look in her direction, he found her frowning, and wondered at what could have caused this. She did not look at him, this time, and eventually he returned his attention to his neighbors at the table, and to his food.

Too soon, the ladies made their exit for the drawing-room, although at least this gave him a better look at her figure as she left, and he found it every bit as pleasing as it ever was. He was not the only man there who found Mrs. Collins pleasing, however; he soon learned. Mr. Althorpe was most vocal in his praise of the young widow’s looks, but he received much agreement from the other single gentlemen, and for the first time Darcy realised that he might well have competition for her hand, a thought that filled him momentarily with paralysing fear.

“She ought to marry soon,” Mr. Althorpe was saying. “A woman, trying to manage that estate on her own – she’ll run it down in no time. It wants a man’s management.”

“She seems to have done well enough with it in the last year,” Darcy said, with his heart pounding, for he detested confrontation, particularly with new acquaintances.

“I am sure that is only because she kept with whatever procedures her husband implemented. It will be once she starts getting womanish ideas in her head, and acting upon them. That will be when she destroys her own income. Unless, of course, she marries me.”

This prompted laughter from all the men around him, save Darcy, and he wished Charles was seated closer to him, for certainly Bingley would have assisted in the defense of his sister, if he had overheard Althorpe.

“And where is your estate, Mr. Althorpe?” Darcy asked, knowing it was not likely Mr. Althorpe, the younger son of a viscount, would have one, and it was very possible he never would.

“Haven’t inherited it yet,” Mr. Althorpe said, pouring himself more brandy. “Fine little property, from my mother’s side of the family, but it would be preferable to have Longbourn while I wait, particularly when it comes with such a fine-looking wife to warm my bed.”

“Might it not be said, then, that Mrs. Collins has more experience in running an estate than you?”

The men laughed again at this, one of them saying that Darcy had Althorpe there, and thankfully the subject moved away from Mrs. Collins following this. From the occasional glares Darcy received from Mr. Althorpe, however, he felt quite certain he had just made himself an enemy. Yet he was glad he had done it, even if he had been discomfited by it; he did not like the thought of Elizabeth being spoken of in such a manner.

It was a relief, when the butler came to tell them that tea was ready in the drawing-room, but Mr. Althorpe, being nearer the door than Darcy, made his way thither more quickly, and Mrs. Collins was his object. Darcy watched, fuming, at the man’s making every effort to render himself agreeable to the woman he had demeaned earlier. To his surprise, however, Darcy was rewarded not five minutes later, when he watched Elizabeth disengage herself from the conversation, and make her way over to where he stood.

“If you are at leisure, Mr. Darcy, I wonder if I might hear from you about Gibraltar now,” she said, quietly.

“Of course,” he said, trying to quell his feelings of delight and triumph so that they would not reach his countenance. He led her over to an open sofa, and then proceeded to provide her with any details of the town he could remember, and stories of the voyages there and back. His delight continued as she showed herself fully engaged in all he spoke of, nodding at his descriptions and asking questions to glean further details.

“Oh, I have entirely monopolised your time!” she exclaimed, when it became clear that some of those who were not staying at the house were calling for their carriages.

You may monopolise my time forever, Elizabeth! he wanted to say, but did not.

“Not at all, Mrs. Collins. In fact, I thought to offer more of my time, if you wish it, to come and look at Longbourn’s books – to offer my advice on the estate.” He did not know if she would take this offer, or even if she thought of herself as needing advice, but he did wish to offer his assistance, and this was the thing he was best suited to assisting her in.

“Oh, yes, because a woman cannot run an estate! Surely I must require your advice,” she said, furiously.

A sharp, stabbing pain in his chest. Were his chances already ruined?

“Of course not. Someone so clever as you should have no difficulty in running an estate,” he said, softly. “I – I know what it is to be given such a responsibility at a young age, and at least in my own case, I did not have anyone to turn to, that I could ask for advice. I had always relied on my father for guidance, and when he was gone, I found I suddenly had his responsibilities, and no longer the benefit of his counsel. I only meant that if you desired my advice, or simply wished for someone to talk over matters with, I would be pleased to give any assistance that I may. I apologise – I never meant to demean you.”

“It is I who should apologise,” said she. “Your offer was very kindly meant, and I am sorry that I spoke so sharply to you. Mr. Althorpe said something to me during dinner, and I suppose I am still a little sensitive over it.”

He found himself relieved, both that they were returned to understanding each other, and that Mr. Althorpe had already revealed his true self to her.

“Pray do not worry yourself over it, Mrs. Collins. It cannot be easy, to be in your position.”

She nodded. “I would like your advice, Mr. Darcy, if you are still willing to give it.”

When characters attack

The nice thing about A Change of Legacies finally being published is that now I can blog about things I've been wanting to blog about for some time. So be warned: this will be a spoiler-full zone for at least a few posts...

This is the thing I was most excited to share, because it was such a strange phenomenon to me, I almost couldn't believe it was happening. I think everyone assumes I have complete control over my stories and characters at all times, but that is not actually the case. Not even close.

I had plans for Legacies. Edward (Colonel Fitzwilliam) and Anne de Bourgh were going to get married and then things were going to happen. I'm not going to say what things, because I'm going to reuse them for Anne, later, albeit not in the manner I expected I was going to, with her as Edward's wife.

No, instead of these two getting together like they were supposed to do, I had Georgiana and Captain Stanton call on Marguerite Durand, the widow of the captain of the Polonais, while they were in Paris. It was meant to be an anecdote, showing how naval captains looked after the wives of their enemy counterparts (war was about as genteel as war could possibly get during this time). Then Marguerite got beautiful, to activate Georgiana's jealousy and insecurity (she and Captain Stanton are pretty much perpetually insecure of each other's love, but rather than make me want to slap them both upside the head, this only makes me love them more as characters; I'm not sure why this is, but it is).

The book came out so long, Marguerite Durand would likely have been cut, had she remained an anecdote. However, at some point during the planning, basically the following occurred, in my head:

Colonel Fitzwilliam: [strides into well-appointed Parisian hotel] Hey, did someone say smokin' hot French widow?

Sophie: Get out of here! What are you doing here?

Col. F.: Isn't it obvious? You wrote a beautiful French widow. Were you just going to leave her here in Paris, all alone?

Sophie: Well, yes. She's an anecdote. She's only meant to characterize Matthew as a naval captain.

Col. F.: You know what would be better than her being an anecdote? Her having a romance with me.

Sophie: You're meant to marry Anne de Bourgh.

Col. F.: Wouldn't be more interesting if I DIDN'T marry Anne de Bourgh? Think of all the potential! Lady Cat will be livid, you'll get to write more grammatically incorrect dialogue, Captain Stanton will be terminally guilty.

Sophie: But I have plans, for you and Anne de Bourgh. And writing Marguerite's dialogue is actually pretty difficult.

Col. F.: You took my arm, at Waterloo. You owe me. Suck it up and write more dialogue. She'll call me mon chéri -- I've always wanted to have a woman call me that, and then make sweet, sweet --

Sophie: Hey, hey, slow down there, soldier. You should be glad you're still alive. I could have killed you off, at Waterloo.

Col. F.: No you couldn't. Readers like me too much. I bet they'd much rather see me marry the beautiful Frenchwoman.

Sophie:  I see your point, but if I do this, you're going to have to decide you love her so much that you're willing to live on very little, for the son of an earl.

Col. F.: Yeah, you just keep thinking that, if it makes you feel better. I'm going to make you add another twist, eventually.

Sophie: I won't cave.

Col. F.: Yeah you will. I'm going to twist your arm. You can't twist my arm, because YOU TOOK IT AT WATERLOO. Remember that? Remember how I only have one arm?

Sophie: Okay, okay, I give up!

So the story changed. Fairly substantially, and probably for the better. But it still shocked me a little, that my characters just decided to do what they would do.

This will no more apparent than at the end of Legacies. The whole big Stanton family blow-up was not actually planned. I outline my longer stories before I write them, and all I had in the outline was that Richard Stanton treated Georgiana and Matthew coldly. When I started writing the portion, I decided he should say something insensitive to Georgiana about the baby, which seemed pretty in character for him, and everything else just snowballed from there, starting with Matthew deciding to cut his father's acquaintance. When it all started happening, I just went with it, and I think the resulting bit ended up making Mary's arc, in particular, much stronger. But it wasn't planned.

A bit of the Legacies outline

I'm not sure what to make of all of this. But it has certainly been a lesson, that when I attempt to fully imagine characters, they will do what makes the most sense for them given their situation, and I had better hope that was what I had planned for them, or be prepared to go along for the ride!

Guest post on minor characters

Nothing new here today, but I'm prepping a post called "When characters attack" that I've been wanting to write for a very long time, but didn't want to post until after A Change of Legacies was out as it's very spoilery.

What I do have today, though, is a guest post over at Babblings of a Bookworm, on the minor characters from Pride and Prejudice that I've developed more thoroughly in the series -- Georgiana (with a smidgen of Lydia), Catherine, and Mary.

Dear readers part 2 / Dear shipmates

Oh my goodness, thank you all so much! Within hours of my blog post I saw so many thoughtful, delightful reviews of Legacies posted to Amazon, it was pretty overwhelming for me. Thanks to all of you, there's now a counterpoint there, enough that I hope readers still considering whether to embark on the series will not be deterred.

That's what I worried about most, when I thought I'd killed the whole series by leaving in the dreams -- I really wanted to write this whole series, but I feared I'd turned everyone off of it. Whether people liked the dreams or were lukewarm on them, I think what I heard pretty resoundingly was yes, get back to work on book 3!

So thank you most of all for that. I've come to think of us all as shipmates on what I jokingly refer to as HMS Constant Love, hopefully on a voyage together all the way through to book 7. Writing can be a lonely occupation, which I don't mind, normally, but it does really help to know you're all out there, and that you're enjoying it.

And what I hope your reviews will do is help others who are looking for a series like this to find it. There's such a wide range of JAFF out there, and I set out trying to write stories that I would have wanted to read, because I could never find enough of what I wanted to read. I don't know how you all have found my work, but I think that has resonated with many of you, and I hope your reviews will help more people who are looking for it to join us as "shipmates."

With even more love for you all,
-Sophie

Dear readers (with emphasis on the dear),

I knew I was taking a risk when I kept the dream sequences in within A Change of Legacies. The "safe" thing to do would have been to take them out, or reduce them to summaries, and then only those who had read the story during its posting online would even know they had ever been there in the first place.

I actually went back through all of my online feedback, before publication, to better quantify the for- and against-dreams camps, and the for camp was significantly larger. Obviously, I wrote them, and I was in the for camp. I had always felt that they enhanced the main story: Georgiana's guilt in her dream was the inverse of Darcy's in the real world; Darcy's fate in the dream world contrasts what is happening in the real world, where he is married and his heir is born; Elizabeth's "fixing" of Georgiana's dream greatly enhances the emotional moments between Elizabeth and Darcy in the real world. And for Georgiana, her dreams help her understand and process better what it is she wants in life; she will continue to use this knowledge in the future, even beyond this book. Thus far, at least on Amazon, opinions of them have been very split, and it's a pretty dramatic split.

I don't mind 1- or 2- star reviews, as long as I'm getting constructive feedback as a writer. What really made me sad about them was that I felt like I had let those readers down, disappointing them with a book that's been a year coming. If any of you reading this have felt disappointed by Legacies, I am truly sorry.  I know how it feels to anticipate a book, and for that book to not be what you expected, and I never wanted to be the cause of this feeling for readers.

I will tell you all that I was pretty near giving up on the series last week. I don't really know if the book's current star rating is affecting sales, or this is simply how a JAFF sequel sells. I got a couple good pep talks and heard from some readers who enjoyed the dreams, and that has me mostly back on track -- I at least don't feel that I've let everyone down, now.

My day job keeps me from writing as much as I would like, but the flip side of it is that it means I can continue, regardless of how this book sells. If I was a writer entirely reliant on this income, I would probably have to stop the series at this point, so I'm glad that's not the case. I love to read a series, to have that sensation of returning to your literary "friends," to spend more time with them. I've always wanted to have a chance to give others that feeling, and that is why I wanted to continue on, after the first book. It's possible there will only be a handful of us left by the time I get to book seven, but as long as I know that handful is enjoying the series, I'll keep writing. And I hope that if you didn't enjoy all of Legacies, that you are still at least invested enough in the characters's arcs to give me a chance with book 3, which will not use the story-within-a-story structure (it's got way too much to cover, just in the main story).

Sometimes people ask what they can do to support my writing, and there are many ways to do it -- purchasing the books, of course; providing feedback when it's posted for online beta; and participating in a proofreading squad. But always at the top of that list is leaving a review, and I could really use your help with that, now.

If you have read Legacies and did enjoy the dream aspect of the book, or even if you weren't a huge fan of the dreams but felt they didn't cause the complete and utter ruination of the whole story, I could really use your voices on Goodreads and Amazon (particularly Amazon) right now.

For those of you who have already done so, THANK YOU. You've reminded me of why I write this series -- so that wonderful people like you can read it.

With much love to you all,
-Sophie

A Change of Legacies

It's here! The wait is finally over, and A Change of Legacies is now live for paperback, and Kindle. Updated to add that the Nook version is now live as well.

It's also listed on Goodreads, and I'd welcome you all to join in there and friend me (if you haven't already).

It took a lot longer than I expected, but I hope it ends up being a more enjoyable read for everyone as a result!

Another of the songs from A Change of Legacies

Here is another of the songs from A Change of Legacies. Not surprisingly, it is a piano and cello duet, Beethoven's Sonata for cello and piano no. 2 in G minor:

Interview at Just Jane 1813

Hello, dear readers! If you head over to Just Jane 1813, you'll find an interview with me, including details about A Change of Legacies, and the entire Constant Love series.

One of the songs from A Change of Legacies

As we get closer to the publication of A Change of Legacies, I thought I'd post one of the songs that will feature in the story, Mozart's 12 Variations of "Ah vous dirai-je, Maman." I'll follow up with another soon, as well as an announcement!

A little nugget about "shuttling"

One of the things I've been trying to do as I am editing is to check any words I am feeling iffy about in terms of period-appropriateness on M-W.com, which helpfully lists the first known usage date and origin of words. Among my greatest disappointments, the first known use of empathy, which we today take to have a nuanced difference compared with sympathy, was in 1850. That means no using the word in my Regency-era stories, argh!

One I just had to look up was "shuttling," because a character refers to another character "shuttling about the country," and I said, "wait a minute, isn't a shuttle a modern invention, like an airport shuttle?"

I was forgetting this shuttle:


In Derbyshire, which was in the midst of a goodly amount of industrialization at that time, I think it's a pretty likely word for our characters to know of, and effective at describing a person going hither and thither all the time, so I got to keep it in. But it also made me realize that this is likely where our modern shuttle came from -- something that moves quickly back and forth between two points. I'm pretty sure I'll be thinking about a weaving loom the next time I take an airport shuttle.

Writing and publishing update, and an excerpt

I was meant to be posting about servants' incomes this weekend, and I do still intend to get to this, but my brain has been entirely eaten by a new story. How appropriate, since yesterday was Halloween -- it's like a zombie story!

It may come as a surprise to some of you that I do read some erotica, given the chasteness of the Constant Love series, compared to some other books in this genre. But the series has always been about continuing from where the original left off, in the closest tone to Austen's work that I can manage. And when I first began working with these characters, in their sweet little repressed Regency way, they would basically throw me out of the bedroom before anything got too heated. So I left them be.

When I published A Constant Love, I noticed what seemed a rash of Austenesque erotica stories on the historical romance lists around it, and checked out some that were Kindle Unlimited offers. They just didn't work for me, because I could not see the characters, as people of their times, acting in ways that felt very unrealistic to me. So I started mulling over a scenario that would let them be realistic, and still have hot, lovely sex. I did think of the scenario, and periodically have been piecing together bits of the plot in my head, but given I am editing the second book in the ACL series, and writing the third, I told myself I needed to be disciplined and save this story for later.

On Friday, whole sentences started forming themselves in my head, rapid-fire, and I decided discipline had to go out the window for awhile. Sometimes writing is just that -- discipline -- and requires sitting down and working at thoughtfully crafting each sentence. Sometimes, and these are the most magical times, the story just seems to well up in my head, and it is all I can do to get it typed out at the pace that it forms. So I decided to give in to the creative rush.

I may or may not need to finish at least a draft of this story before I move back to my other works. It's long been possible that my self-imposed deadline of having A Change of Legacies ready for publication by the end of this year will not be met, and I may decide to bring out the shorter Less Proud and More Persuasive first, so at least I've managed to get something out before the end of the year (it also helps that I will most certainly have this new story as a gap-filler between longer works ready for publication at some point next year).

I know some readers have been impatient for the next book in the series to come out -- and I love that you want to read it! I work full-time in addition to my writing endeavors, so I only have so much time to work on writing and publishing. Getting to spend a weekend doing what I truly love -- hammering out a huge portion of a story -- has been absolutely delightful for me. And at some point, all of these stories will be published, I promise.

For now, I'll at least leave you with something of my productive weekend, the prologue from the new story, which is tentatively titled Temporary Mistress. It's not smutty at all, and indeed I expect that the smut-to-story ratio will hopefully make it a worthwhile read even for those who prefer to skip the naughty bits. This is very much in draft form, and probably still contains some present tense -- that is my natural voice, and when I'm writing quickly I tend to find myself slipping into it. I'd love feedback, positive or negative!

Prologue

May 29, 1815

Near Meryton village, in Hertfordshire, two sisters who had always been particularly close were so fortunate as to live within three miles of each other. One was happily married, and while it would be impolite to say the other was happily widowed, it may be said that she was more content in her widowed state than she had been in her married one.

“My dear Lizzy,” said the married sister, who was called Jane, to the other. “We are to have company at Netherfield soon -- a small house-party, only, but I hope you will join in our dinners, and perhaps a ball, if I am able to convince Charles that we should have one.”

“My year is very nearly complete,” replied Elizabeth, who would have rejoined society earlier, if she could have done so without any damage to her reputation. “I have for some time been desirous of participating in society, and I would be very pleased to make my re-entrance at Netherfield.”

“Oh, Lizzy, I am so delighted that you should say that,” said Jane. “I must tell you, though, that Mr. Darcy is to be one of the party. I know you and he did not get on well, and I hope you shall be able to meet as polite acquaintances, at least.”

“Jane, dear sister, it has been better than three years since I have seen him, although he did write to express his condolences on the death of my husband, which quite surprised me. I cannot say that I am looking forward to making his acquaintance again, but I shall certainly be polite to him. I do wonder, though, at his coming to Netherfield. I had thought the breach between him and Charles to be irreconcilable.”

“Charles is much too amiable to maintain an irreconcilable breach,” said Jane, smiling as though to indicate thoroughly how well her own amiableness mirrored that of her husband. “He and Mr. Darcy met at White’s last winter, and they have gradually renewed their acquaintance, with some apology -- I understand -- on the part of Mr. Darcy, who felt himself in the wrong for that which occurred between them some years ago, although Charles says it was as much his fault as Mr. Darcy’s.”

“Well, I had not imagined Mr. Darcy capable of admitting wrongdoing in any matter, so I am quite surprised at what you say, Jane. I shall meet Mr. Darcy politely, as you ask, and perhaps if he is capable of admitting himself in the wrong, now, we shall get on better than we did before.”

Before the two ladies could converse further, Mrs. Hill entered the parlour, and said, “Mrs. Collins, if you please, one of your tenants is in the kitchen, and requesting an audience with you.”

Elizabeth rose, and smiled apologetically at her sister, who rose as well, and said she should be going anyway; there were a great many preparations to make, for the house party. Thus they separated, Mrs. Bingley to make her return to Netherfield Park, and Mrs. Collins for Longbourn’s kitchen.

+++

November 30,1811

Breakfast at Darcy House, and Charles Bingley moping over the sideboard. Fitzwilliam Darcy surveyed his friend, and wondered if he has taken on an impossible task, in attempting to make him forget Jane Bennet.

It had been easy enough at first. With the eager assistance of Charles’s sister, Caroline Bingley, the flaws of Miss Bingley’s family had been noted, and to these flaws Darcy had added, gently, the lack of evidence that Miss Bennet held any romantic affections for the man who stood dangerously close to becoming her particular suitor.

Charles could rather easily be convinced into believing these things, but those things believed by Charles Bingley’s head were not so easily absorbed by his heart, and this accounted for his moping over the sideboard.

This could be rectified, though, Darcy thought. He abhorred the idea of conspiring over anything with Caroline Bingley, but he agreed with her that this was necessary, and that with a little distance from Jane Bingley, Charles would soon enough forget the young lady he had called his angel. In time, then, he might find another angel, one of more appropriate family and fortune.

Charles sat down with his plate, eventually, and the selections thereupon made it clear to Darcy that his friend’s appetite had not been much affected, which he took as a positive sign. Time, time was all that was needed to make everyone forget of the Bennets, and time would be afforded to them there, along with every distraction London had to offer.

Darcy’s plan seemed poised for success through breakfast, and the pot of coffee that followed it, taken leisurely in the parlour. Miller came in with the post, and there was a letter for Charles, which was studied silently for some time, before he attempted to comment upon it.

“My God,” Charles said, “Mr. Bennet has passed. There was some trouble with his heart, and apparently he succumbed to it.”

“Charles, are you quite sure?” Darcy asked, for his mind was racing as to how this affected Elizabeth Bennet, and as he had determined to think no more of any Bennets, this was most troubling.

“Sir William Lucas wrote me of it,” Charles said. “He has been assisting Mr. Phillips and Mr. Collins with the preparations for the funeral.”

“Those poor girls,” Darcy murmured, although he thought only, poor Elizabeth!

“I think the same, Darcy. I think that I should go to them -- to Jane,” Charles said. “I know you said you do not think she has affection for me, but everything has changed, and I am not sure that she did not -- “

“Charles, I beg you, do not act hastily. Miss Bennet will only be more vulnerable in her present situation, for losing all her security in life. I expect she would gladly accept anyone that came to her and seemed likely to secure her a home. Is that all you seek in a wife, is gratitude, for putting a roof above her head?”

It was at this moment that Fitzwilliam Darcy lost his particular friend, for Charles Bingley, not ever before having been required to seriously examine anything his life, did now examine his present situation, and his most recent courtship, and said, “Err -- no. What I seek in a wife is a sweet, amiable temper, a pretty turn of countenance, and a respect of my thoughts, and all of these things I had in Miss Bennet, and you convinced me I should not pursue her because of her family, and because she was not attached to me.”

Darcy nodded, acknowledging that all his friend was true, and wondering what was to come next.

“I am going to go back to Netherfield,” Charles said. “I hope Miss Bennet is still able to see me in her present situation, and if she is, that she shall accept my hand in marriage. For even if such an exquisite creature is marrying me for my fortune, I will care not. I will enjoy my sweet wife, and even if she does not love me as I do her, I have no doubt of her faithfulness and continuing sweet temper.”

"This is precisely why we determined to separate you from Miss Bennet," Darcy said, unthinkingly.

“You determined? You mean this was planned? All of these seemingly casual conversations about Miss Bennet was the result of some determination between you and my sister?”

“Yes, Charles, we thought it best for you.”

“Did no-one think perhaps I might be able to determine what is best for myself!” Charles shouted. “Do you all think I am a child, rather than the head of my household? A feeble-minded half-wit, that you must conspire around?”

“That is not at all what we thought. But a man in love may not think so clearly -- “

“I am thinking clearly enough! I am thinking that if there is a woman in this world that I love, and I can secure her hand, there is absolutely no reason why I should not!”

“Charles, think of what you are saying. Think of what you are taking on -- not just Miss Bennet, but the whole family. Are you prepared to have the mother and the silly sisters living under your roof at Netherfield?”

“I am not so selfish as you, Darcy. If I can ease Miss Bennet’s present distress by offering a home to her family, that will be pleasing to me, not abhorrent.”

“You think me selfish?”

“Yes, Darcy, I do, although if I must sum you up in one word, I suppose it would be pride, and I suppose I would say that you have spent so long in pride of the Darcy name, and presuming of what those who hold the Darcy name should do -- and apparently what friends of those who hold the Darcy name must do -- that you have never, since I have known you, acted in a manner as to pursue your own happiness. Now that I am presented with the choice, I have no interest in being like you. I will pursue my own happiness, and I will ask for Miss Bennet’s hand, and I do not care if you do not like it, you arrogant arse.”

And that had been the end. The words, meant to wound; the acquaintance, meant to end.  Darcy, left reeling amongst the words of his protégé, wondering what was it like to do what Charles had mentioned -- what was it like to pursue his own happiness?

+++

November 27,1811

It happened so quickly, they did not even have time to send for Mr. Jones. They were recounting all that had happened at the Netherfield ball over breakfast, when Mr. Bennet complained of a strange sensation in his arm. His wife said it sounded precisely like her nervous attacks, which silenced him for awhile, but Elizabeth could see that he was truly not well. His countenance appeared pale, glistening with sweat, and she asked if they should send for the apothecary.

“Not yet, Lizzy. I think I shall just go and sit quietly in my library for a time,” he said.

He rose, took a few steps toward the door, and collapsed, clutching his chest. Minutes later, he was gone.

Elizabeth was not allowed the luxury of shock, or grief, for her mother and younger sisters descended into hysterics, her mother worst of all, and someone was required to manage things, to order the servants to carry the body of their master to the parlour, to lay him out there and cover him. Jane was as hysterical as the rest of them, at first, but Elizabeth found that if she gave her sister a command, it would be followed, and that Jane seemed calmer, when she had tasks to accomplish. As for Mr. Collins, he determined that his proper function was to assist with prayer, and quoting bible verses, which perhaps soothed Mary a little, but was of little benefit to anyone else in the household.

Eventually, Mr. and Mrs. Phillips came to lend their assistance, and Elizabeth went up to the bedchamber she shared with Jane, to rest for a few minutes, and have a little time in privacy, to finally mourn her father. She was not alone for five minutes, before there came a knock at the door.

It was Mr. Collins. She knew what he was going to ask, and she was horrified by it. Her father was not even cold, much less buried. That he would choose this time, of her greatest shock and vulnerability, that he would not even allow her a half-hour of quietude before forcing her to think of where her family was going to live, was completely abhorrent to her.

In that moment, she hated him, and yet she knew she would have to marry him regardless.

+++

December 6, 1811

Darcy heard no more from his friend. He spent the days following the breach in quiet reflection, shaken that his closest friend could call him proud, selfish, and arrogant, and shameful that as he considered his past behaviour, he could see the rightness of what Charles had said.

He did not know if Charles had sensed his tendre for Elizabeth Bennet, and if therefore his comment about Darcy’s pursuing his own happiness had been meant specifically, and not generally. He thought about this -- this alien concept of doing what he wished, without a thought of society, of asking the loveliest creature of his acquaintance to marry him. Yet if Charles thought these things of him, what must she think?

Still, he considered it, until one day, there was an announcement in the papers, short, simple, and incredibly wounding. It was not the one he had been expecting. “Miss E. Bennet, of Longbourn, in Hertfordshire, is betrothed to Mr. W. Collins, vicar of Hunsford, in Kent.”

Oh, Elizabeth, what have you done? was his only thought at first. Yet it was clear enough what she had done: she had acted to secure a home for herself and the remains of her family, and accepted the offer of that odious parson cousin of hers. Charles must by now have made his return to Netherfield, but not his offer, and poor Elizabeth had sacrificed happiness for security.

Darcy thought, in that moment, of going to Hertfordshire, of staying at an inn, if Charles would not have him at Netherfield, of making, in essence, a counter-proposal to her. Surely she would prefer him to Mr. Collins! Yet every reason to order his trunks packed and his carriage readied seemed to be followed by two reasons why he should not. The mother and the silly sisters could be set up in a separate establishment, somewhere in Derbyshire but not too near to Pemberley. To ask her to break her existing engagement would be substantial, but she was a woman, and could do so if she decided in Darcy’s favour. But, acting on the perceived impossibility of a marriage between them, he had been guarded with his affections; any proposal from him would come as a shock to her. Thinking of this returned his thoughts to conjecturing as to her opinion of him. If it was poor -- if she would refuse him, to choose that horrid man over him -- it would be his undoing. He thought of how it would be, of riding from an inn to Longbourn, of requesting a private audience, and the myriad ways in which she could refuse him.

It would be better to write to her, he thought. Putting his proposal in a letter would enable her to spend some time in deliberation between her two offers, to be informed of his affections in a manner that would be better done than what he would likely manage in speaking. And if she did choose to refuse him, whether out of preference or out of honour in keeping her present engagement, at least he would not have to hear her speak it. The shattering of his soul could occur in private, in the comfort of his study, with a decanter of brandy at hand.

Darcy gathered his writing things, and after spending the better part of the morning and a quire of paper on various drafts, finally arrived at:

“Dear Miss Bennet,

“Please accept my sincerest condolences on the death of your father. I believe you and he were close, and I am sure this makes what would already have been a difficult time all the more unbearable. Having lost both of my own parents, I can say that time will heal the wound somewhat, but never completely. I still feel their absence, even now, and believe I shall for the rest of my own life.

“Having seen news of your engagement in the papers, I should now congratulate you upon it. However, I cannot, for Mr. Collins has secured the very hand in marriage that I myself desire, and while I abhor breaking a commitment, and expect you do as well, I am going to request you do just that.

“I admire you greatly, and I have felt my affections towards you growing for some time, and wish that I had declared myself sooner, before another offer could be made to you. As I now find myself second, I will not attempt to compare myself with your betrothed, but will make the case for myself as best I can.

“Pemberley brings in more than 10,000 pounds every year, and sometimes nearer 11,000. Of that, I had thought 700 pounds an appropriate amount for your pin money, but that may be increased if you think it insufficient for your needs as a married woman. Your jointure, on my death, I would settle at 1,000 pounds, so that you have a sufficient amount to set up your own establishment. I do regret to say that Pemberley does not have a dower house, so this may be necessary. I would also set up an establishment for your mother and younger sisters, and to ensure Mrs. Bennet and any of your sisters who do not marry are kept in comfort for the whole of their lives.

“You would have your own bedchamber and dressing room, and no expense would be spared in decorating them to your taste, as well as any updates you desire to the rest of the house. It is a large house, but my housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, has held that post for eight years and is a most diligent and trustworthy woman, so you may decide for yourself what proportion of your time you wish to spend in household management.

“I would hope for a marriage in which your affections matched my own, but I fully understand that they may not, at the time of your reading this letter. I would ask only that you allow me to do all that I can to grow them over time. I await your response, and remain --

“Your most humble and obedient servant,

“FITZWILLIAM DARCY”

Once he had read it through several times, and determined it to be what he wished to say, and of appropriate tone to be proposing marriage to a young woman who has just lost her father, and accepted the hand of her cousin, Darcy then turned his mind to how to get it to her. It would not be appropriate to send it to her directly; the best thing to do would have been to send it to Charles, and ask that his friend give it to her discreetly. But as that was not an option, he eventually decided that the best thing to do would be to send it under cover to Mrs. Bennet. He did not think that woman liked his company, but he also did not think she would turn down the possibility of her daughter marrying into a greater income. Indeed, he thought, she might be his greatest ally at Longbourn. Thus another letter of condolence was written, to Mrs. Bennet, informing the woman that it covered one to her daughter, a proposal of marriage. He gave this packet to a servant to post, and then there was nothing to be done but wait.

+++

December 15, 1811

"I publish the banns of marriage between Miss Bennet, of Longbourn, and Mr. Bingley, of Netherfield Park. If any of you know cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in holy matrimony, ye are to declare it: This is the second time of asking."

"I publish the banns of marriage between Miss Elizabeth Bennet, of Longbourn, and Mr. Collins, of Hunsford. If any of you know cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in holy matrimony, ye are to declare it: This is the third time of asking."

Elizabeth listened to the banns in that mixture of sorrow and dread she had known since her father’s death and Mr. Collins’s proposal. Had she known that Mr. Bingley was to return, was not to stay in town for the winter as his sister had said he would, and had she known that he was to return and offer marriage to Jane, she most certainly would not have accepted Mr. Collins’s proposal. Mr. Bingley had been surprised at learning of Elizabeth’s betrothal, but it had made no impediment to him making his own declaration, and now Jane had the greatest comfort that could be had, in such a time, in the gentle sympathy of her husband-to-be.

Whenever the tide of dread rose too high, Elizabeth considered breaking the engagement. She considered it, and she desired it more than anything she had ever desired, and yet she would not go through with it. Some women, in some engagements, might be able to do so with little damage to their reputations, but Elizabeth knew that would not be the case for her situation. To break an engagement merely because another man had stepped in to provide her family the promise of security would be to expose herself to their neighborhood as fickle, and ungrateful. Nor was she entirely sure she would prefer being dependent on Mr. Bingley over being mistress of her own household, and in command of her own pin money, even if it meant she must be married to Mr. Collins.

Still, it was a relief to have him gone from the house, if just for a little while, for he had returned to Kent to settle his affairs there, and take his leave of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Of all the misfortunes surrounding her father’s death, it was but one of them that Mr. Collins was living with them at the time, but it was one Elizabeth felt acutely. Not only was he there, to offer her marriage at such an inappropriate time, but there had also been no formal handover of the house, due to his constant presence. One day, he was a guest, and the next, he was the master. And in three days, he would be her husband.

+++

December 20, 1811

When a fortnight passed with no response from Elizabeth Bennet, Darcy began to fear he would not receive one at all. He thought over his letter, and wondered if it was too businesslike, not affectionate enough. He wondered if merely asking for her hand in marriage, when she was already betrothed, had been abhorrent to her -- so abhorrent, that she did not even think it worth a response. He wondered if her response had been misdirected in the post, or his own letter had gone astray, or whether he had been wrong about Mrs. Bennet’s willingness to give his offer to her daughter.

Misdirection of one letter or another could, at least, be rectified, and now, finally, Darcy ordered his trunks packed, and his carriage readied. Later that day, he saw the wedding announcement in the papers.

His despair upon seeing that Elizabeth was now irretrievably lost to him was complete. She was lost to him, and whether it was by choice, or by lack of knowledge that another option existed for her, he alone had been responsible. Oh, Elizabeth! Poor, lovely Elizabeth, to be locked in matrimony with such a man!

Darcy amended his orders, now, that the journey should be a return to Pemberley, that it should be delayed until after Christmas, and that Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley should prepare their things as well. For that was his only desire, now, to take his sister and return home.

It was too late to make any improvements as a lover, but he could improve himself as a brother, and as a man. There might not be any promise of happiness in that, but there would be satisfaction, at least, in correcting his ways, in better doing his duty. That was all he had to live for, now.