Sarah Courtney's Blog, page 4

Plots, Ploys, and the Art of Matchmaking

My newest book is now available! Plots, Ploys, and the Art of Matchmaking is available for purchase for Kindle and in paperback, and also on Kindle Unlimited! https://smile.amazon.com/dp/B08NK84Y3C/

I hope you enjoy it! And if you get a chance, I’d love a review on Amazon or Goodreads! Reviews are great for helping others decide if they want to read a book. Happy reading!

New release!

Hello, everyone! I’m sorry that I’ve basically fallen off the face of the earth for a few months. We’ve made a major move, from the U.S. to Germany, and that has consumed my attention for some months now. We initially expected to move in July, so I spent the spring/early summer decluttering and sorting, only for our move to be delayed by COVID to September. More months of continued work! We stayed in a temporary lodging hotel for a month after our arrival until we could find a rental.

The good news is that we are now living in our new house, *and* we even now have Internet (we had a painful two-week wait for it). There are still boxes and boxes to unpack and lots of work left to do, but the end is in sight.

The good news for you, my readers, is that I have a new book ready to release, and now that I have Internet I can get it formatted and uploaded. I am hoping to release Plots, Ploys, and the Art of Matchmaking on November 20 if I can. I don’t have a preorder link up yet, so this book will probably have a very short preorder period if any at all. I want to get it to you as soon as possible, but without Internet and with all of the moving/unpacking, I haven’t wanted to commit to a release date until I was sure I could make it.

Since I don’t have a preorder link for you, I did want to at least let you get the first look at the book’s blurb! Here is Plots, Ploys, and the Art of Matchmaking:

When Darcy’s eccentric uncle Lord Matlock arrives in Meryton for a visit with his old friend Mr. Bennet, nobody can escape their mischief. From locked doors to misdirected carriages, Matlock and Bennet wreak havoc on inhabitants of Longbourn and Netherfield alike.

Darcy and Elizabeth fall prey to their relations’ schemes more than once, but they firmly resist any matchmaking efforts. Darcy knows his value in the marriage market and has no intention of marrying beneath him. Elizabeth could never marry such a pompous bore. But their pride and prejudice become a lot harder to maintain when they find themselves trapped alone together.

Will Matlock and Bennet succeed in making matches for all of Meryton—except the two stubborn fools they know belong together?

This sweet comedic variation of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice is 73,000 words of mischief and matchmaking.

Plots, Ploys, and the Art of Matchmaking will be available on Amazon this month! Hopefully you will enjoy this bit of comedy and fun in the midst of the craziness that is 2020. (And 2021 had better be a happier year, because my next book is going to be angsty!)

“Mistaken Identity and Crossed Wires”

This story is a follow-on to Melanie Rachel’s “Mistaken Identity and Cold Showers.” You should read her story first at: https://melanierachel.weebly.com/storiesextras/mistaken-identities-and-cold-showers. Then come back here to read about our beloved Richard Fitzwilliam’s own romantic antics.

Richard was distracted.

He really was trying to listen to Andrew’s discussion of England’s current rugby premiership standings, and normally he would have been happy to spend his lunch arguing about Exeter versus Sale. His brother had only flown in to New York for the day, after all. But he’d glimpsed a girl at a neighboring table just before taking his seat, and now he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Their table was a little ahead of him on the right, giving him the perfect view. She had shoulder-length hair that was dyed a bright copper red, and it had a spiky look to it that he found intriguing, along with her dark, snapping eyes and mischievous smile.

“Nah, I think Saracens will take it all,” Andrew said.

Richard shrugged, not really listening. “Yeah, maybe.”

He wondered what his chances would be if he asked her out once he’d got rid of his brother. Girls usually hated getting asked out by a bloke who just walked up to them, but what other option did he have? If he didn’t try now, he might never see the girl again. Now he just needed to get shot of Andrew.

Andrew flicked Richard’s forehead. “Bruv, seriously, Saracens? They’re in last! Have you lost the plot?” He turned his head and saw the table with the girls. “Ohhh.”

That was not a good sign. Not at all. “It’s nothing.”

“No, you like that girl, don’t you? I don’t blame you, she’s a bit of alright.”

“I was just lost in thought.”

Andrew flicked him again, his favorite move since they were kids. “Whatever. Go and chat her up.”

“Later.” No way was he asking a girl out in front of his brother.

“No, now.” Andrew stood up and strode towards the table. Shit. Richard leaped to his feet and followed before his brother ruined his chances.

“Ladies,” Andrew was saying, bowing slightly. He knew how to use his accent to his advantage, that one did. He grinned broadly at the girl’s friend, a beautiful brunette. To Richard’s horror, Andrew said to the wrong girl, “My brother fancies you and wants to ask you out—”

The brunette looked at him with wide eyes, then exchanged a glance with her friend.

“But he has better manners than to interrupt your lunch.” Richard gave the women a winning smile and glared at his brother. “I’m so sorry, we don’t let him out often, but this is visiting day.”

The redhead snorted. He would have been mentally punching the air with happiness at amusing her, if only his brother wasn’t here!

The wanker was making a hash out of the whole thing. He wasn’t about to correct his brother and risk insulting the brunette in front of her friend.

“You should take him horseback riding, Lizzy,” the redhead said.

“Lizzy” rolled her eyes. She smiled at Richard and Andrew. “I promised Charlotte here that I would get over my dislike of horses and go horseback riding at least once.”

Richard raised his eyebrows. “I love horses. I’d be happy to go with you. I know just the place.”

He left the restaurant with a date and a phone number. Not with the woman he had intended to ask out, but Lizzy was pretty and horse riding sounded fun. Still, he was gutted to realize that he would almost certainly have to write off Charlotte as a potential date, since it rarely went well to date two girls who were friends.

“You wanker!” Richard said, punching his brother on the shoulder as they walked away from the restaurant. “That wasn’t the girl I was looking at!”

“What are you on about? I did you a favor!” Andrew rubbed his shoulder and glared at Richard.

They stopped at the crosswalk, and Richard paced the sidewalk with anxious energy. “The redhead, plonker! I liked the redhead!”

Andrew scrunched up his face. “You’re having me on, aren’t you? She wasn’t nearly as pretty. And not even a real ginger. The brunette was positively fit.”

Richard sighed. There was no reasoning with the nutter. “Exeter Chiefs will win the premiership, anyway.”

“Ha!” Andrew crowed. “So you were listening! Only you’re wrong. Chiefs might be in first, but everybody knows that won’t last. No, it’s Sale Sharks who’ll take the premiership, wait and see.”

Richard pulled out his phone to check how long he had before his brother’s flight out. He forgot, sometimes, why they were better friends with an ocean between them.

*-*-*

“Shit, shit, shit.” Richard was going to be late, and there was protein powder all over the counter. He swept it off the counter into a bowl. The counters were clean enough, right? The way Will went at them, you would think that he expected the Queen for an imminent visit.

It wasn’t like Richard was a complete mess. He did his laundry, threw his trash away, and wiped the counter after spills. He just didn’t see that it always needed to be done right away. If you were making a plate of food and got some crumbs or sauce on the counter, why wipe it up right away? You were going to have to bring the plate back in and put it in the dishwasher later, anyway, so why not do it then? Besides, it was far more efficient to wipe the whole counter once or twice a day rather than to wipe it every time you made food.

And when you were eating a pizza or popcorn or drinking soda while watching a movie, who wanted to pause the movie to take their trash into the kitchen? Will, that’s who, but certainly not Richard. Of course, Will would finish his pizza, glare at Richard, then collect both of their pizza plates and empty soda cans and make Richard feel like a complete tosser.

They would probably both be happier if Richard got his own place. He did intend to . . . eventually. But he worried about Will. Will was becoming a real workaholic and headed for a heart attack at fifty like his father. He wasn’t sure his methods of getting Will to loosen up had any effect, but he had to try something.

Of course, making a mess all over the kitchen floor was probably not the best way to go about it. It was a good thing Will had left without noticing.

Elizabeth would be here in just a few minutes. Could he get away with leaving the powder on the floor for now? He should probably change into something more . . . date-like. What did one even wear on a horse riding date? He suspected his usual jeans and t-shirt might not be up to par.

A voice from the doorway startled him. “Why does your roommate think I’m a handyman?”

Richard jerked, dropping the bowl of powder on the floor. The plastic bowl didn’t break, fortunately, but despite Will’s uptight cleaning habits, it probably wasn’t a good idea to sweep it up off the floor. He looked up at the doorway to see Lizzy lounging against the side of the door. She was early, and looked oddly flushed—had Will embarrassed her by mistaking her for the handyman?

“Crap, sorry. Had a mishap in the kitchen. You’re early.”

Her eyes swept around the kitchen, and Richard wondered what she saw. Okay, so the protein powder hadn’t been the only mishap that morning. Who the heck kept a cupboard crammed full of storage containers, anyway? It wasn’t his fault they’d all fallen out when he opened it.

Lizzy smiled as she saw what she was looking for and pulled out a broom. She handed it to Richard, eyebrows raised. “I’m not early. I’m on time. Are you one of those “ten minutes late counts as ‘on time’ people? And you didn’t answer me about the plumber thing.”

“Plumbing problems. He wants me to call the super. I suppose he thought you were the super.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What kind of plumbing problems?” She eyed the broom, then Richard. He took the hint and got to work sweeping up the powder.

“The loo,” he said as he dumped the dustpan into the rubbish bin. “It’s blocked.”

“Tried plunging it?”

“Do I look like a complete tosser?”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and looking knowingly at the mess of plastic storage containers and protein powder that were still all over the counters.

Richard winced. Not the best second impression he’d ever made. He sighed.

“Of course I tried plunging it.” Admittedly, he would have been tempted to leave it for Will if it weren’t that Will was going to work and he was going to be home, aside from their date. Plunging hadn’t done a thing, though. “I think one of Georgiana’s scrunchies may have gone down.”

She laughed. “That would be a pretty big scrunchie. Trust me, I have sisters. Usually those go straight through. Want me to take a look? I’ve helped my dad handle a fair share of plumbing problems. And my roommate, Charlotte, works on a lot of construction sites, so I’ve learned a lot of repair stuff from her.”

Forty minutes later, Richard was trying not to laugh as Elizabeth straddled the toilet, hauled it up with a grip near its base, and duck-walked towards the cardboard she’d had him lay on the bathroom floor.

“Yes, I know I look ridiculous,” she got out through gritted teeth. “Maybe you could help instead of gawking?”

“I dunno, gawking is much more fun,” he said, but he grabbed the cistern as soon as she was far enough out of the corner and he could reach.

They got it settled on the cardboard, then Elizabeth tipped the toilet back. “Stabilize this for me so I don’t lose the seal,” she ordered as she dug around in the bottom. “Ah-hah!”

She pulled out something that Richard recognized immediately. “A paper cup!” He frowned. “I guess it was Georgiana after all.”

“Recognize it?”

He scratched his head. “Yeah, um . . . she bought these, said the mug I have in the bathroom was disgusting and unsanitary. She was enthralled with these adorable little cups she found at the store and the fact that they were called ‘Dixie.’ Then right as she was leaving, she told me maybe my mug was a better idea after all, as she’d accidentally flushed one.”

Elizabeth widened her eyes, looking from the box of cups on the counter to the place where the toilet usually stood. “How exactly does one ‘accidentally’ flush one?”

“She said she tossed one at the trash can right after she’d flushed the toilet. Missed the trash can.”

She raised her eyebrows. “So your friend told you about flushing it, but when the toilet clogged, you didn’t put two and two together?”

“My cousin. I thought, if she’d flushed this down, maybe she’d flushed something else, too. The cup’s like, paper. Cardboard. Something. I mean, a paper cup isn’t so different from bog roll, right?”

“Bog roll?”

He rolled his eyes. “Loo roll. Toilet paper, you know.”

“You call it bog roll? That’s disgusting. Makes me think of, I don’t know, squatting in the woods around a swamp to, you know.”

“Well, there is the phrase ‘swamp ass.’”

She threw a roll at him. “They’re nothing alike, anyway. It’s harder and thicker than ‘bog roll’ and it’s waxed so that it doesn’t fall apart when you put water into it. That makes it *not* flushable. You wouldn’t try to flush a cardboard box down the toilet, would you?”

“Depends on if I was tossing it at the trash can and missed.” He picked up the cup and examined it. “You know, come to think of it, this cup came out of the toilet pretty much pristine. I wonder if Will would notice if—”

“Don’t you dare.” Elizabeth poked him in the chest, hard. “All right, I’m going to get this back in place. You get to help line up the john bolts.”

By the time they had the toilet in place, Richard had called the stable to cancel their horse ride. While Elizabeth finished bolting the toilet into place, she made him clean the sink and the bathroom. It had been a little embarrassing to fumble to find cleaning supplies and throw his boxers in the laundry in front of her.

“You really know your stuff,” Richard said as she finished and loaded her supplies back into her toolbox. “You know all this from your dad?”

“Some of it, yeah. You wouldn’t believe the stuff that he’s had to deal with. He can handle the basic stuff, but when there was something he couldn’t handle, he’d call our neighbor, Charlotte. She’s my roommate, now, but we grew up next door. She’s a few years older than me, so she’d come over to rescue us all the time. Not just toilets, but frozen water lines, holes in drywall, needing more outlets for people to plug in their phones, whatever. I’m not as squeamish as my sisters, so I’d hang out and help her, which is how we got to be friends.”

Richard tried to tamp down his enthusiasm to hear more of Charlotte. “She sounds like a useful neighbor!”

“You have no idea.” Elizabeth shook her head, smiling. “Well, she’s really an electrician, but she knows a lot about plumbing and woodworking, too. She actually reads up on that stuff for fun.”

“Were water heaters one of those things?” The toilet was one thing, but Richard knew he was going to look like even more of an idiot. Who didn’t know how to relight their pilot light? “I turned the hot water off for a bit of a prank on Will, but then I couldn’t get it to come back on again.”

Elizabeth shook her head, chuckling. “Did you read the directions on the water heater?”

“Directions are for prats,” he blustered, but in reality he hadn’t thought to look on the heater itself. He’d planned on Googling it later.

Elizabeth could have just relit the water heater for him, as she clearly knew how, but instead she read the directions aloud and made him do it. She and Will would get along great. They could probably even put IKEA cabinets together without hating each other by the end.

He felt a sudden rush of excitement. Will really might be a good match for her. And she might distract Will from being on his case all the time about the flat. And if she and Will got together, maybe she’d bring Charlotte along sometimes.

“So, I noticed you watching us at the restaurant,” Elizabeth said as she washed her hands.

Richard cleared his throat. “You did?”

“And by ‘us’ I mean ‘Charlotte.’”

Richard let out a sigh of relief. “Yeah. I mean, you’re a pretty girl. Woman. Beautiful woman. You know what I mean.”

She laughed. “Yes, I do.”

“But it was your friend that I was looking at. My brother’s taste runs more to women with your look, so . . .”

“He misunderstood. And you played the gentleman and didn’t want to insult me—”

“Hey!” Richard protested. “I didn’t just play the gentleman. I was a gentleman. But I was a bit gutted when I realized the cock-up.”

“Well, you owe me a decent meal after the free plumbing assistance.”

He nodded, but she wasn’t done. “How about I’ll call Charlotte and see if she can meet us? I don’t know if she’s on a job today or if she can break for lunch, but you never know.”

“You. Are. The. Best. In fact, I should really introduce you to my cousin Will. Or, reintroduce you, I guess, since you’ve technically met him.”

Elizabeth laughed. “The guy who thought I was your plumber?”

“You can’t hold that against him. It’ll be a great story to tell at parties if you hit it off.” Richard would pay to see that. In fact, the best part about setting Elizabeth up with Will would be that he would never, ever live that down.

Elizabeth seemed to be considering it. “Your cousin, huh? Is he anything like you?”

Richard frowned, considering. “Not really. I mean, he’s my best friend, but we’re not so good as flat mates. He’s obsessively tidy, I’m not so much.”

“Really?” Elizabeth said with dripping sarcasm.

“He’d have read the directions to the water heater, too.”

She shook her head, laughing. “Well, already he has two points in his favor. Three, because I will freely admit he’s a beautiful specimen of a man. But I think I may have to subtract one for him thinking I’m the plumber.”

“Women can be plumbers! And it’s a good, solid job, too. Makes a good living. Why does he lose a point?”

“For deductive reasoning skills. For one, I had no tools with me, and what plumber would want to go all the way back down to the garage for their tools?”

“True.”

She gave him a mischievous grin. “But that’s not the most obvious reason he should have known.”

“What’s that?”

“He assumed you, the guy who won’t even read the directions on the water heater, would have called the super!”

***

“No, he really wants you to join us. No, it didn’t really end up being much of a date. I mean, seriously, we spent most of the time working on his toilet. You might consider that a fun date, now that I think about it. Anyway, at the restaurant, his brother—no, come on, you have to take lunch sometime.”

Richard frowned as he watched Elizabeth pacing and talking on her mobile. It didn’t sound as though Charlotte was going to join them. Just his luck, the prettiest girl he had met in months, and she wouldn’t even give him a chance.

Elizabeth finally hung up with a sigh. “I don’t know why she’s so reluctant,” she said, dropping onto the couch. “I thought I saw her looking at you at Delia’s. She seemed like she didn’t want to horn in on our date, but I tried to explain.”

“Is she working?” Richard had a germ of an idea. Maybe it had been a mistake to let Elizabeth call Charlotte to join them, instead of just asking Elizabeth if he could call Charlotte another time. If he could just talk to her in person . . .

“Yeah, she’s at a new building development on Cunningham today.”

“How far down Cunningham?” he asked, grabbing his wallet. Then he suddenly realized that he had, after all, agreed to buy Elizabeth lunch.

She laughed. “Sounds like I’ll have to let you buy me lunch another time! Cunningham and Third, I think, or somewhere around there. Just look for the new construction.”

“I’m sorry.” Richard felt like a jerk. “I could—”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, punching him on the shoulder. “I should prepare for the GIS seminar I’m speaking at, anyway. Apparently, the scheduled speaker is home with the flu.”

“GIS seminar? I’ll bet that’s the same one I’m attending. Tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yeah!” She looked surprised. “I never really thought to ask what you do.”

“Our family—Will’s and mine, I mean—sells organic produce. Supply chain management is one of my specialties, so I’ve been planning to attend. Thinking about dragging Will along, too.” More so now that he knew Elizabeth was going to be speaking. Wouldn’t that be fun, especially if Will still thought Elizabeth was a plumber.

She stood up and started collecting her things. “Maybe you can make up for lunch by buying me dinner after the conference.”

Perfect idea. “It’s a date. Or, you know, not. Hey, I’ll be with my cousin, Will.”

Elizabeth stopped and squinted at him. “Are you trying to set me up, now?”

“Just trying to relieve my guilt at fancying your friend over you.” He gave her a sideways grin.

She threw a cushion at him.

***

He had no idea how he was going to find Charlotte once he reached the block of townhouses where she was working. He needn’t have worried, though. He saw her as he approached the first block of townhouses, shiny white from the Tyvex insulation while they waited for their wall cladding. A few men were eating, either alone or in groups. Two women and a man were talking while looking at the exterior of one building, and there were several others going in and out as he watched. But Charlotte’s bright red hair made her easy to pick out amongst the others.

She was sitting in the bed of an old blue pickup truck, unwrapping a sandwich. Her head was down, so she didn’t see him approach.

“No time for a lunch break, eh?” he asked.

She looked up, startled, and dropped her sandwich on the ground. She leapt out of the pickup truck to grab it, but Richard was there first.

“I’m so sorry!” The sandwich was already covered with dirt on one side. “I was going to see if I could convince you to come out to lunch with me, but I didn’t mean to sabotage your sandwich.”

Charlotte squinted at him. “You expect me to believe that?” She pointed a finger at his chest. “The timing is very suspicious. I think you came down here with the sole intent of destroying my sandwich.” She glared at him, and, from the corner of his eye, Richard suddenly noticed a man approaching.

“Char, this guy harassing you?” the man asked, hands on hips.

She chuckled. “Nah, I’m the one giving him a hard time. Thanks for checking, Shaun.”

“Nice that your workmates look out for you,” Richard said as the man lumbered off.

“Are you implying that I need looking after?”

Richard sat down on the bed of the truck next to her, glad to see that she didn’t shove him off. “Not in the slightest. I mean, no more than I would. Did you see the size of that bloke? He could break me in half. Glad it wasn’t his sandwich that I made fall on the ground.”

Charlotte looked ruefully down at her sandwich. “I guess you do owe me lunch now.”

Charlotte only had an hour for lunch, so they had to stick with a subway shop that was close to the building site. Richard was impressed with Charlotte’s appetite.

“I don’t know if I could eat a footlong meatball sub myself,” he said.

She gave him a sideways look. “Are you intimidated?”

“Are you trying to intimidate me?” he shot back. “Admittedly, I’m usually the one who finishes off all the leftovers in the fridge. I’m not sure I want competition there.”

She chuckled. “Your own leftovers, or your roommate’s?”

“Usually his. But Will’s a good sport.”

“Or he’s silently fuming.” She shook her head, smiling. “My roommate and I drive each other crazy. She’s one of those ‘everything in its place’ people, and me . . . not so much.” She leaned over the table. “Wanna know how to really freak out your roommate?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Tell me. I’m always looking for new pranks.”

“Wander out of the bathroom, and say, ‘Hey, have you seen our toothbrush?’”

Richard choked. “That’s brilliant! He would be horrified. I was just planning to hide the remote control. Or maybe wrap it up in plastic wrap. Well, I might still do that anyway.” He gave an affected sigh. “Life is far too serious, so it’s up to us to improve it.” He leaned forward. “Okay, what’s the funniest thing you’ve come across as an electrician?”

“Oh, hands down, it was the secret switch inside a kitchen cabinet.” She laughed. “I was doing some rewiring in a rental house, and I found this weird setup in the kitchen. Turns out that the house belonged to a man who had five teenagers. Apparently, they used to take super long hot showers and it drove him crazy, so he installed a switch that cut power to the hot water heater. If somebody had been in the shower for over ten minutes . . . bam. There goes the hot water. And as far as the kid knew, the hot water had just run out.”

“Bloody brilliant. I would probably install one of those if I had five teenagers, too! How do you even have five teenagers at a time? Twins?”

Charlotte shuddered. “Poor planning!” She blanched and glanced at her phone. “Oh, speaking of poor planning, I’d better make sure I’m not late getting back to work. I need to finish the wiring in this first block so they can insulate tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you back,” he said, standing up quickly. “I have to work tomorrow. There’s a conference . . . actually, your roommate Elizabeth is giving the talk, I hear. But maybe we can do something over the weekend?”

To his surprise, Charlotte flinched. “Look, Richard . . .”

Nothing good ever started with, “Look, Richard.” He ought to know, he’d heard it often enough.

“I thought we had a good time,” he protested.

Charlotte shook her head. “I mean, yes, we did, but I won’t be a guy’s second choice.”

Richard frowned as they started down the street towards the construction zone. “Didn’t Elizabeth tell you? You were never my second choice.”

“Elizabeth’s awesome, I get that.” Had she not listened at all? “And stunning. Way prettier than me. I get it, I do. But I still don’t want to date a guy because he struck out with her roommate. She nodded to the intersection at the corner of the development. “Here’s where we part ways.”

Struck out with her roommate? “You Americans and your baseball idioms. I didn’t ‘strike out’ with your flat mate.” Charlotte waved him off and started across the last street. “She wasn’t the one I wanted to ask out in the first place!” He shouted the last, but Charlotte made no indication that she’d heard.

***

Richard took a giant bite of pizza he’d just had delivered and immediately regretted it. Hot hot hot! He blew steam from his mouth like a dragon while waving at his mouth frantically until it had cooled enough that he could swallow.

While he gave it a minute to cool, he pulled out his mobile and called Elizabeth.

“You’re one of those people who actually use their cell phones to call people, huh?” Her voice was laughing.

“There’s a reason it’s called a mobile phone, you know.” He shook his head and took another bite of his pizza.

“How did it go?”

He swallowed and shrugged, even though she couldn’t see him. “Not so well.”

“Oh, no, I was sure she’d like you. How’d you screw up?”

“I didn’t! We had fun, but she didn’t like that I’d asked you out first. The end.”

There was a long pause. “I’m really sorry, Richard. Maybe you could try calling her and explaining?”

He leaned back on the couch. “Maybe. I’m knackered. Ended up going in for a half day after she ditched me. And maybe Will got to me a bit about skiving off. I don’t have her mobile, though.”

“Got a pen?”

He grabbed the pen he’d used to sign for the pizza, then his copy of the receipt. “Ready.”

He wrote down the number she dictated. “Will she even answer?” he asked, skeptical. “Unknown number and all that?”

“You won’t know unless you try.”

“Brilliant. So now I go from the tosser who asked out her flat mate first, to the creepy stalker who has her mobile number. This doesn’t seem like an improvement.” Not that he was going to let that stop him.

She laughed. “Then give her a day before you call her. And don’t call her too late. She has to wake up early for work.”

Brilliant, now he was picturing Charlotte getting ready for bed. He shook himself out of it. If he’d needed any inducement to try again, he had it now.

***

The next morning, Richard sat with his head in his hands while Will paced about, talking on his mobile. Stupid wanker. If Will weren’t such a nutter about his flat being in perfect order, he’d have Charlotte’s number and could give her a bell. Not like the receipt had been hurting anybody on the coffee table. Whether she’d answer or not was anybody’s guess, but at least he’d have a shot.

He could ask Elizabeth for Charlotte’s number again, but she’d already gone out on a limb for him in giving him the number once. Would she have second thoughts if he asked again?

At least Will’s love life was about to look up. He’d used Will’s guilt over throwing away the receipt to convince him to come to the GIS seminar with him. Even if the guy was a complete wanker sometimes, he’d be perfect for Elizabeth. Learning that the blocked loo had actually been Will’s sister’s fault, not Richard’s, had been the final step to get him to agree.

Will said goodbye to Georgiana, pocketed his phone, and turned to Richard. “I’ll be there.” He adjusted his tie, frowning slightly.

Richard refrained from rubbing his hands together at his little prank. It would be downright hilarious to see Will’s reaction when he saw that the “plumber” was actually the keynote speaker at the GIS conference. No way would Richard warn Will in advance. This was going to be entertaining.

Will looked around the living room and gave an aggravated sigh. Before Richard could even pretend he cared about the state of the room, Will grabbed the empty glass next to Richard and the newspaper from the coffee table, popped the coaster back into its tray and tossed a cushion back into its usual position on his way to the kitchen.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Richard called, putting his feet up on the coffee table now that there was room.

“Get your feet off my coffee table,” Will called without looking back. “For crying out loud, sometimes I think you’re adopted. Uncle Chris and Aunt Leigh keep a clean house.”

“Nah, you’re the one who was adopted.” Richard winked at Will when he returned to the living room. “Cleanest kid at the orphanage. How could they resist? I bet the secret is that Aunt Anne and Uncle George are major slobs, but you clean up after them so nobody knows their terrible secret.”

Will laughed, then frowned. “Where’s the remote?”

“Uh.” Richard handed the plastic-wrapped remote to Will with a grin. “Sorry not sorry.”

***

Richard tapped his foot as he watched Will flirt with Elizabeth at the restaurant table. At least, he was pretty sure that was what Will was doing. It was pretty pathetic, like watching a pimply-faced teen try to talk up a pretty girl.

He glanced at his mobile. When he talked to Elizabeth at the start of the GIS seminar, she had said that Charlotte was planning to join them for dinner, which had sounded perfect. He wouldn’t have to track her down or embarrass himself by asking Elizabeth for Charlotte’s number again.

Except that they were ready to order, and she wasn’t here yet.

And then she was.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, pulling out a chair next to Elizabeth. She froze as she recognized Richard.

“Hey,” he said, standing up quickly to hold her chair. She sat down slowly, glaring at Elizabeth.

“Charlotte, you know Richard Fitzwilliam, and this is his cousin, Will Darcy. They were both at the conference.”

Charlotte nodded and opened her menu without looking at Richard.

Richard sighed. There had to be a way to convince her.

Will and Elizabeth had really hit it off. The entire time he had been watching the door for Charlotte, the two of them had been talking nonstop about sushi and the history of Pemberley, and other mind-numbingly boring things.

Richard leaned forwards, towards Charlotte. “This reminds me of lunch with my brother,” he whispered.

She glanced up quickly, then back at her food. “Does it?”

“Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “I was staring at this girl the whole time. My brother thought I’d lost the plot when he was making wonky predictions about rugby and I agreed with him.”

Charlotte didn’t say anything.

“Then the wanker realized what was going on and decided to be my wingman, only he got it wrong. He walked right up to the table I’d been staring at, but he asked out the wrong girl.”

Her head came up suddenly. “No way.”

He laughed. “Yeah, he really is that much of a tosser. I mean, you saw him. Bloody moron. Ruined things with the girl I did like, because now I’ve asked her friend out first, she won’t have anything to do with me.”

“Maybe—”

She was interrupted when Will gave a sudden bark of laughter, startling them both. Richard frowned at him.

Will raised an eyebrow. “What do you think, Richard? Is this cup safe to drink from?”

Richard blanched and glared at Elizabeth, betrayed. It had been a joke, she didn’t have to go telling Will. Now Richard would have to hide his toothbrush in his room for a few weeks. Will didn’t have the light hand with pranks that Richard had. He’d go all scorched earth. Richard rolled his eyes at them both.

Charlotte laughed. “I heard about that cup.”

Richard shook his head. “I wasn’t really planning to put the cup out for him to use. Give a bloke some credit.”

“Roommate troubles?” She nodded towards Elizabeth. “Elizabeth and I have some interesting debates over my place. She’s one of those people who likes everything just so, you know, and I’m . . . more relaxed.”

“Yes!” Richard wanted to punch the air. “It’s your home, it’s supposed to be where you can let loose and slob out. Not a show home.” He leaned forward a bit. “I’ve made it a project to get him to lighten up a bit before he has a nervous breakdown. He just takes things so seriously.”

She smiled. “You’re a good friend. Cousin. Whatever.”

There was probably never going to be a perfect moment, but he had to ask. “So earlier, you started to say something before Will cut you off. I said you wouldn’t have anything to do with me . . . and I guess I was hoping you’d contradict me.”

“Contradict you?” She flicked him with her chopsticks. “That doesn’t sound like me at all.”

“I don’t know about that. I’d pegged you as a girl who would keep me on my toes.”

Charlotte sighed as she turned serious. “I’m probably overly sensitive, it’s just . . . there was this guy, Billy Collins.”

“Well, there’s your problem to start off. Billy? What, was he eight?”

She shook her head with a grin. “Considering his hair loss, no. Anyway, he wanted to go out with Lizzy, but she turned him down flat. So he asked me out. To my everlasting shame, I said yes. Dated him for a few months. But he always wanted to hang out at my apartment, and pretty soon, I realized it was because he still thought he had a chance with Lizzy. She travels a lot, so she’s in and out, so it took me a while to pick up on it. He cornered her in the bathroom at one point.”

Richard raised his eyebrows. “In your own flat?” He took a sip of his soda.

Charlotte grimaced. “Yep. Fortunately, Lizzy is pretty apt with self-defense. Poor guy can no longer procreate.”

Richard choked. “Blimey, Charlotte, give a bloke some warning, why don’t you?” He coughed, making her laugh. “I guess the world’s a better place for it.”

She smiled and took another bite of her dinner.

“I’m not him, Charlotte,” he said softly. “I’m not after Elizabeth. Hell, we were going to go out to lunch and mutually canceled it because she knew you were the one I was staring at. Give me a chance, will you?” He reached across the table and opened his hand in front of hers.

She blinked, gazing at his palm for a long moment. Finally, she put her hand in his. “A date, then.”

“We’ve already done dinner,” he said, looking around. Will and Elizabeth had disappeared. He hoped the wanker hadn’t left him with the check. “Lunch, too, come to think of it. We should do something different. Horse riding? I love riding, but Elizabeth said it was more your thing than hers. Or I could help you out with, I don’t know, whatever project you have going on. Not that I have any useful skills, but I’m a great assistant.”

She laughed. “Not that I’m insulting your abilities as an electrician’s assistant, but . . . let’s stick with horseback riding for now.”

He smiled, relieved that Andrew hadn’t completely sunk his chances forever. Not that he was sending him a thank-you card any time soon. The tosser. “It’s a date.”

A Quiet April

I’m sorry that I haven’t posted for a while! I haven’t had any new stories to post just yet, but I’ve still been writing.

My latest short story idea is a Groundhog Day story that turns the traditional Groundhog Day tropes on their heads. It’s going to be a wild ride, both to read and to write! I’ve only written a page or so on it, although I do have an outline.

Mostly, though, I’ve been trying to focus on A Season of Magic. It will be a full-length novel about Elizabeth’s adventures at the Season, where young mages are taught how to use their elemental powers. She is at a disadvantage at the start, both because she does not know how to use her element yet, and because her parents are notorious in the magic world–and not in a good way. Good thing she has a twin at home at Longbourn, her beloved Jane, and that she shares a special secret method of communication with her.

I’ve been posting Plots, Ploys, and the Art of Matchmaking at DarcyandLizzy as well as at A Happy Assembly. AHA had an upgrade that kept me from posting for a few days, so the posting is further along at D&L right now.

While I don’t have any new writing to post just now, there are still lots of great stories and books out there! Melanie Rachel and I beta-read for each other, and I love her I Never Knew Myself, which just released a few weeks ago. Mary Anne Mushatt has also released a totally different story that also has a kidnapping theme, called Taken, which I think just came out yesterday. I haven’t read the published version yet, but I did buy it right away, as I’ve read the story before on the forums and it was fantastic! I really liked Lari O’Dell’s Mr. Darcy’s Clan, too.

Other than Pride and Prejudice fanfiction, I’ve been reading a lot of fantasy. K.M. Shea’s Hall of Blood and Mercy series is absolutely amazing. Probably some of the best books I’ve read this year. The third book of the trilogy releases on Friday, and they’re all available on Kindle Unlimited. K.M. Shea is a fantastic author, probably my favorite current author. I love her Timeless Fairy Tales series, which has spun off into the Fairy Tale Enchantress series (anxiously awaiting the next book in that series, too, which comes out later this year). My current reread, though, is the delightful Spoken Mage series by Melanie Cellier. In fact, these books were the inspiration for my book A Season of Magic, and I’m using some of the same tropes in mine, even if it spins in a different direction.

More stories coming soon!

Thank you for your patience when I haven’t posted anything for a while! It’s been a pretty crazy few weeks, hasn’t it? My husband and I have been busy getting ready to make an overseas military move this summer, and then this virus popped up and threw a wrench in everybody’s plans.

My husband got sick right around the time this happened, and then I’ve been sick for the past week. The symptoms have been pretty much the same as the symptoms from a bad cold, though, so who knows if it’s the coronavirus or not. We’re mostly recovered now with just a bit of a lingering cough.

I have been busy getting some writing done! While I was waiting to have Plots, Ploys, and the Art of Matchmaking beta-read, I started on a short story. The short story is now finished and will be posted here in a few days. If you have an account at AHA or DarcyandLizzy, you can read the first part on one of those sites now! The Precipitous Marriage is the story of a young, impetuous Fitzwilliam Darcy who is tired of his parents’ domineering control over his life and makes a rash decision to marry a girl whom he likes–but barely knows.

I did get edits back on Plots, Ploys, and the Art of Matchmaking, so you can expect to see that within the next week or two posting at AHA and DarcyandLizzy. After that, I will start the next level of editing and looking to get it published.

I hope everybody is doing okay hunkering down during this crazy season!

Review of KM Shea’s “Magic Forged”

KM Shea seems to get better with every book. Which is pretty amazing considering that even her first books were fantastic! I think at this point she is probably my favorite current author (sorry, Kitty, but Jane Austen is still top).

I will admit to not being a fan of urban fantasy. I don’t like vampires, and I’m not particularly interested in werewolves. If that’s you, you should still try this book anyway! I bought it (I didn’t even bother with KU) on the strength of KM Shea’s name alone, and I don’t regret it.

The world-building was creative and interesting, as one would expect with a Shea book. I thought the author did a great job explaining how the magical groups and humans interacted without bogging the reader down in explanation. The pace kept things moving along at a good clip, fast enough to keep things interesting but not so fast that we didn’t have time to appreciate the interesting fantasy elements or see character growth.

I was a little nervous about how this book would end, knowing that it’s part of a series (even if the other books are coming fairly soon), but I was very satisfied with the ending. No, not everything was resolved, but enough was that it felt complete as far as this book goes. I cannot *wait* until the end of March for the next one! I actually squealed a little with happiness at the end because it was just so, so good.

I highly recommend this book! It was so good that when I finished, it took me a few minutes before I felt ready to rejoin the real world. It was completely compelling. I will definitely reread and reread this book.

Review of KM Shea's "Magic Forged"

KM Shea seems to get better with every book. Which is pretty amazing considering that even her first books were fantastic! I think at this point she is probably my favorite current author (sorry, Kitty, but Jane Austen is still top).

I will admit to not being a fan of urban fantasy. I don’t like vampires, and I’m not particularly interested in werewolves. If that’s you, you should still try this book anyway! I bought it (I didn’t even bother with KU) on the strength of KM Shea’s name alone, and I don’t regret it.

The world-building was creative and interesting, as one would expect with a Shea book. I thought the author did a great job explaining how the magical groups and humans interacted without bogging the reader down in explanation. The pace kept things moving along at a good clip, fast enough to keep things interesting but not so fast that we didn’t have time to appreciate the interesting fantasy elements or see character growth.

I was a little nervous about how this book would end, knowing that it’s part of a series (even if the other books are coming fairly soon), but I was very satisfied with the ending. No, not everything was resolved, but enough was that it felt complete as far as this book goes. I cannot *wait* until the end of March for the next one! I actually squealed a little with happiness at the end because it was just so, so good.

I highly recommend this book! It was so good that when I finished, it took me a few minutes before I felt ready to rejoin the real world. It was completely compelling. I will definitely reread and reread this book.

There Can Be No Doubt

This is another short story that I originally posted on a closed forum. I’d like to share it here for my other readers who might enjoy it.

I wrote it for a challenge to write a “soul mark” story. For anyone who doesn’t know what soul marks are, they are based around the idea of soul mates. They came from fanfiction (I don’t know which fandom the idea came from first, but it has been making its way across numerous fandoms). Soul marks are some kind of marking on a couple, usually on the hands or wrists but not always, that indicates who their soulmate is. Sometimes the soulmark is the name of the other soul mate, sometimes it is a phrase or something else.

As for how I’ve interpreted the soul mark concept, it should become apparent as you go along.

It was the twinge in Darcy’s shoulder on only his tenth lift that first drew his concern. At first he thought perhaps he had failed to stretch enough before starting on weights. He hadn’t wanted to think otherwise. Working out hard and regularly was supposed to help keep the soul weakening away as long as possible.

But that had been three months ago, and since then, he’d felt an occasional ache in his knees, and he’d lost a bout in fencing with his cousin Milton. He never lost to Milton. Ever. Fitzwilliam might never let him live it down.

He hadn’t been willing to confess then that the soul weakening had started. But then last month, he’d caught a cold. A simple cold, and yet it had taken him a month to shake it.

That was when they’d all known. Nobody had said anything to him, but he caught his mother looking at him and then turn away quickly, blinking. His father looking at him and sighing. The furrow in his sister’s brow. Even Fitzwilliam, his cousin and dearest friend, mocked him less than usual; he did not typically lose the opportunity to make a joke about Darcy’s less-than-manly soul mark. His whole family demonstrated a renewed determination to find her. He also knew his father had made an appointment with his solicitor, probably updating his will. Just in case, of course. Just in case.

His family had spent the last two Seasons in London, looking actively for her. They knew the date of her birth from when his soul mark appeared, of course, so they knew she’d turned eighteen two years ago; the time for her come-out. His father had found just the right location to observe each of the young ladies as she was presented to the queen. His mother had visited every elderly matron in town, asking about soul marks of young debutantes. Milton had even spent more than one evening at Almack’s, a sacrifice that he reminded Darcy of at least once a week, even though he’d been safely married at the time and in no real danger from the matchmaking mamas.

He had spent agonizing hours at balls and soirees of all sorts, attempting to smile, although self-conscious about doing so ever since Fitzwilliam had given him an assessment of what his false smile actually resembled; he’d been quite insulted at the suggestion of adding more fiber to his diet. He’d danced, oh, he’d danced. Bingley had been thrilled. Oh, Bingley, of the unmarked hand and freedom to marry whom and when he wished. He’d never been quite so envious of Bingley in his life.

Two years, and still she did not appear. At the end of this past Season, his mother had suggested gently that his future wife was most likely not of the Ton.

“Her parents might have chosen to delay her come-out for a year. Or we could have missed her presentation if it happened a year or two early. But we know she was twenty at the start of this Season. Even if we missed her presentation, we would have seen her at some point. I have every matron in the Ton looking for a soul mark of a Sweet William flower, and her parents would certainly do the same. No, I feel safe to say that she is not in London among the Ton. We must look elsewhere.”

He knew they were right, and that his mother could not bear to lose another son, and so he reluctantly participated in the family plan that felt all-too-much like a war council. His parents would visit Bristol and Bath. His aunt and uncle were to go north to Derbyshire and the neighboring counties, attending events and house parties. Fitzwilliam and Margaret would do the same in Kent. Milton and Sophia would stay in London watching for new girls, visitors, or gentry who were not known amongst the Ton and could have been missed. Lady Catherine and Anne were not in a position to travel, but they would invite house guests and write letters to acquaintances far and wide. Emily was heavily expectant and could not travel, but could join in with the letter-writing. Victoria and Talbot had gone north like her parents, but were staying in Scarborough. And Darcy would accept every invitation to a house party he could. He felt exhausted just thinking about all the traveling and visiting, from Brighton to Essex to Hertfordshire to Nottinghamshire. Somebody, somewhere had to know a young woman of age twenty with a soul mark showing a single Sweet William flower.

It had been easy for Milton. Sophia was only the daughter of minor gentry, it was true, but she had her come-out in London at the age of seventeen and had been immediately spotted by Lady Matlock. Her soul mark matched the tangle of rope that had appeared on Milton’s hand at age six. The meaning of soul marks was always clear to their bearers, but not always to others. Darcy theorized, though, that the rope symbolized slavery, as Milton had convinced his father to take up the issue in the House of Lords and he and Sophia were dedicated to the cause of emancipation.

Fitzwilliam had had a more challenging time finding Margaret. She was the daughter of a Viscount, but despite her soul mark, her father had not taken her to Town. There had been much tragedy in her family and her father could not manage the cost nor bear the gaiety of London. She had been four-and-twenty when Fitzwilliam had finally met her at Lady Catherine’s house party. The galloping horse on their soul marks made their shared love of horses clear.

At least Margaret and Fitzwilliam were only four years apart. Darcy was not sure he would survive if he did not meet his own soul mate before she reached four-and-twenty. The soul weakening might be unpredictable, but once it began, there was usually not more than a year or two left.

But if Darcy did not survive long enough to find his soul mate, would Georgie? Her soul mark had appeared at birth, so her soul mate was, as was usual for the man, older than her. But they did not even have the clue in her case of knowing how much older and the birth date. It had not so far proved helpful for Darcy, as his parents had explored the birth announcements for that date to no avail, but knowing the age of one’s soul mate did at least help guide one to the right places to look.

The third house party was in Hertfordshire, to the leased estate of his friend Bingley, and he was already sick of it. Sick of traveling, sick of meeting new people, of smiling and speaking politely and being fawned over, when he was growing anxious about his future, and if he even had one. Where was she? Surely she had just as much to lose in not finding him, why did she not travel to London and be presented to the queen, or, barring that, at least attend Almack’s and other venues for debutantes?

He tried not to be resentful that her family did not seem to make the effort to bring her somewhere where she could be more easily found. Not all genteel families could easily afford to tarry in London, and he had no idea of her living situation. But he was consumed with worry about Pemberley, about how his parents would feel losing another son, about how Georgie would feel. About how terrified she would be of her own soul mark if his was what killed him.

Bingley was lucky. He was a tradesman by birth, and thus ineligible for a soul mark. He was ready to buy himself into the gentry by purchase of an estate, so he’d have all the glory of having an estate without the risk. Perhaps a few generations in, as was usual, soul marks would start to appear in his landed descendants. But he wouldn’t have to worry for himself or his children or even his sisters.

Even when his family had been landed long enough, they might be lucky enough not to have many soul pairing. Some families had no more than a single soul pairing every few generations.

The Darcys and Fitzwilliams were not so lucky. Perhaps because they were such very old families, for some theorized that the length of time a family had been landed meant more soul marks, but for whatever reason it was, soul marks ran in both families very heavily. Darcy’s parents had been a soul pairing, and he and his sister both had soul marks. His younger brother John had not, but John had died of influenza some eight years ago. He had been his parents’ insurance, their spare, and now only soul marked children were left.

The Fitzwilliams were also a soul pairing, but only the two boys, Milton and Fitzwilliam, had marks. Emily and Victoria were happily married without marks.

Visiting Bingley had probably been a mistake. Bingley was a great friend, no doubt, and normally he would have been happy to spend time at his new estate. But with time so short, a wasted house party was a risk to his future.

And it might be a risk to his sanity as well. He’d been shocked when he saw Caroline Bingley, Bingley’s younger sister, sporting a soul mark on her hand. A Sweet William flower—a fairly good copy of his.

Bingley had been disgusted. They both had. The shouting match that ensued had been horrendous. It was not unusual for non-gentry to know little about soul marks and how they worked. Apparently, Caroline had known that they only appeared in the gentry, and somehow she thought that she and her siblings were close enough to gentry for a soul mark to be possible.

Darcy, of course, knew better. Even land ownership was not enough. Nobody knew exactly why, but soul marks only appeared in families that owned sufficient land to be considered gentry, and even then, only to families who had owned land for several generations.

Furthermore, Caroline had not even known that soul marks appeared at the birth of the younger soul mate. She was four years younger than Darcy, and both her siblings knew perfectly well she had not been soul marked from birth.

The ink she’d used took days to wear off, and after the row with her brother, he forced her to wear gloves to hide her shameful attempt until it wore off. The smirks from the servants were seemingly too difficult to bear on top of the glares from Darcy and her brother.

At least gentlemen and their families already knew about soul marks and their importance and did not feel the need to make counterfeit ones. They might be dissipated in other ways, but he’d never heard of gentry faking soul marks.

He had initially had high hopes for the area around Bingley’s estate. Bingley had been extolling the virtues of the neighborhood and the many lovely and virtuous ladies who lived in it. He had not mentioned whether any bore soul marks, but nonetheless Darcy had had a good feeling about Hertfordshire. Surely many of the neighbors Bingley had mentioned were genteel enough to carry marks, and perhaps he would finally find his soul mate there.

He was disappointed when he arrived. The neighboring estates, if one could call them that, were rather small. Netherfield was lovely, if not particularly large, but it was by far the largest estate in the area. Even the second largest, Longbourn, looked unlikely to bring in more than two thousand a year. He would not be surprised if many of the families had risen from trade or inherited entailed estates. There seemed a great deal of change in the neighborhood, like the local knight who had been a former shopkeeper, and of course Bingley’s estate was leased.

The Meryton Assembly, held in a small, hot, and crowded assembly hall, was enough to convince Darcy that he had made a poor choice after all. He glanced at everyone’s hand on introduction. Not a single soul mark in sight, most likely because none of the local families had been landed long enough to develop soul pairings.

Mrs. Bennet, to whom he had just been introduced, actually giggled as she curtseyed. Giggled! As if she were a girl on her first public outing!

“My daughters Jane and Mary,” she said, indicating the two girls who stood next to her, one lovely and one… not. “Lizzy, Kitty, and Lydia you see there dancing.” She swept her arm towards the dance floor and smiled brightly at him. He saw two of them immediately, laughing and squealing as they danced. The two were making fools of themselves and all attention was on them. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw their unmarked hands.

Darcy bowed again to Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and then let Bingley do the talking. He’d glanced at the hands of the parents and other two daughters, but no soul markings. It didn’t surprise him, though, given the strong trend for soul marks to be hereditary, as clearly their family did not carry them. There was a good chance the Bennets had not held the land long enough for soul pairings to begin. He had heard that Mrs. Bennet was merely the daughter of a solicitor. And this was the largest land-holding family in the area aside from Bingley? Perhaps he should consider moving on sooner than planned. His chest ached with the disappointment.

As soon as he had been introduced to all of the major families and looked to their hands, he escaped to the wall as was his wont during balls. Bingley, unfortunately, could not let well enough alone.

“Come, I must have you dance!” he blathered on, until Darcy was ready to snap. When Bingley pointed out a certain Miss Elizabeth of the unmarked Bennet family, it was the last straw.

“She’s tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me into dancing with an Unmarked. Whatever would be the point?”

It was at Lucas Lodge that he first saw her, really saw her. She had been cajoled by her sister into playing and singing something or other, quite possibly just to keep her less-talented sister Mary away from the pianoforte. Her playing was lively and unaffected, and he felt himself smiling at her cheerful good humor as she played. When she played a rather obviously wrong note, she made a comical face of contrition and then grinned at her audience. Darcy was charmed.

It was wrong, wrong, he knew. He was Marked, she was Unmarked. It was not just the Decree that prevented the match, but all honor and decency, for he must marry his soul mate or die within the next few years, if his estimation of the soul weakening was correct.

She stood up finally and gathered her music, responding gaily to a few friends as she made way for another performer—not Mary, fortunately. She was headed in his direction, and he had a panicked moment of trying to figure out whether he should evade her or try to talk to her. He wanted to talk to her, he shouldn’t talk to her–

His mind was a muddle, but not quite enough to keep him from noticing the direction of her stride and moving out of the way. Unfortunately, she had the same idea, and moved to the side the same time he did to avoid a collision. A collision that, since they’d both moved the same way to avoid each other, was inevitable after all.

“Oof!” he exclaimed as she hit his chest hard.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” she said, hastening to pick up her dropped music and step back.

He said not a word. He could not. For the back of her hand faced him as she held the music to her chest. And there, right there, on the back of her palm was a soul mark—a Sweet William flower.

For a moment, a very long moment, he was disgusted. She, too, had counterfeited a soul mark. He had admired her, she had seen it, and she had decided to take matters into her own hand to gain his wealth by a short marriage until he died of soul weakening, just like Caroline Bingley. He hated to think it of her. But she certainly had not had a soul mark the first time they met, and the rest of her family had no marks.

He was on the verge of confronting her, shoving her away, proclaiming the counterfeit to all, when two things happened.

The first was that he felt—strange. He could not describe it, even to himself, but touching her had made him feel odd.

The second was the confusion in her eyes when she looked up at him. Her expressions were always so open, so artless. And she did not understand why he stood there, mouth agape, staring at her. Or perhaps, he realized, she also felt odd without knowing why.

And now that he realized it, he had not truly met her, had never seen her hand, at the assembly. She had been one of the ones dancing, but not the loud two whose hands he had checked. And soul marks did appear in otherwise unmarked gentry families from time to time.

When her puzzled eyes met his, he held out his own hand. She stared, colored, and was silent.

Their eyes met.

“So you are–” she began stiltingly.

“Yes, it appears so.”

Neither was quite sure what to say. He wished he had thought to ask his cousins what they did when they met their soul mate. He knew the next step in the process, of course, but it seemed a bit forward to kiss her without ever having been so much as formally introduced.

“I suppose it would sound rather trite for me to say that I have been searching for you all of my life?” he attempted with a slight grin.

“How disappointing, then, for you to find me merely tolerable?” She gave him an arch look, but he recognized trepidation in her face. And then he realized.

He closed his eyes. “I am sorry, truly. I did not wish to dance… but you know you are my soul mate.”

She raised one eyebrow. “And thus you will have to find me handsome enough to tempt you?”

“Something like that,” he said with a shrug. “Truly, I did not mean it. I was trying my hardest to ignore the Unmarked while searching for my soul mate.”

She sighed. “I suppose I can understand that. You are beginning to feel the soul weakening?”

“I am.”

“Then we must marry quickly.”

“Or at least kiss,” he said. He wouldn’t mind kissing her. Not at all. Now that he was allowed to find her intriguing, more than allowed, he knew that he found her very appealing indeed. And the kiss—the kiss would tell them for sure. It was the first step in the bonding process.

He was not about to kiss her in the middle of the room at Lucas Lodge, even if nobody else had noticed their conversation yet. Somebody was sure to notice a kiss. And while he was fairly certain that she truly was his soul mate, just enough doubt remained that he did not wish to risk finding out that he was wrong in public.

Darcy indicated the door, and Elizabeth followed. Without knowing where was leading her, he simply knew he needed to be alone with her.

The foyer was empty. The party was midway, so most people had arrived and nobody was leaving yet. The servants were elsewhere, making themselves useful. They were alone, at least for the moment. It had to be enough.

He took her face in his hands, and kissed her lightly on the lips. The moment they touched, both felt a light tingling between them. Wide eyes met. He felt something, a heat rushing through his body, and then it was gone.

Elizabeth took a deep breath. “That was it, was it not? We truly are bonded?”

He nodded.

“And the soul weakening will halt?”

Again he nodded.

“Thanks be to God,” she whispered. He felt a sudden warmth, that she would thank God for him. He began to realize what it meant to have somebody so dear.

“My family will thank Him as well,” he said. “All of them, my mother especially, have been quite desperate.” He took her hand and squeezed it.

They stood there together for a few minutes before Elizabeth said, “I suppose we should return before tongues start wagging. What—what happens next?”

“I suppose I speak to your father,” he said. “He must know of your soul mark?”

“He does.”

“Then it shall be a short conversation.”

She laughed lightly. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

It was, in the end, a short conversation, though longer than he had expected, and possibly hoped for. Her father was resigned to him as his daughter’s soul mate, although he seemed skeptical of the pairing.

Darcy found himself wondering about the nature of their shared soul mark. He knew that soul pairings were often between people from very different backgrounds, even if they had to at least be gentry. But there had to be something that made them bond, something that connected them. It was not as if a soul pairing was random and the couple were under a magic spell to fall in love, after all. He knew quite a few soul pairings, and they always had a great deal in common. Personalities were often opposite, but there was commonality somewhere. And that commonality was usually reflected in the soul mark.

It did not take long for Darcy and Elizabeth, during the walks they were allowed unchaperoned but in sight of the house, to discover why they were matched. They were both intelligent and educated and enjoyed talking about ideas. Bingley and Fitzwilliam were his dearest friends, and both had excellent educations and had excelled in school. Nonetheless, neither had any interest in education for its own sake, no desire to read philosophy books or engage in real debate. He would never have expected his soul mate to be the person who finally challenged him in this way, and yet she was. They averaged two heated discussions per walk. He was certain they had been the best days of his life.

They both seemed to have a similar sense of humor as well. His was, perhaps, a bit drier, and hers livelier, but they enjoyed the same kinds of repartee and had the same sense of irony.

And, of course, he was very attracted to her. Her sparkling eyes, her soft curls, her bright smile, her lithe figure. She was absolutely lovely, now that he had truly looked at her.

By the third day, he was in love. And by the fourth, he thought perhaps she was as well.

It was on one of their walks that he first brought up the subject of the Sweet William. He confessed to her the amount of ribbing he had received in school and from his cousins for having a flower for a soul mark. Richard’s horse and Milton’s rope had not been particularly noteworthy, but he’d taken a few beatings for having a flower on his hand. He wondered if Elizabeth knew its significance.

“It might be for your name,” Elizabeth suggested.

“That seems rather trite,” he said.

She shrugged. “I agree, but… wait, perhaps it is for the outdoors. I do love walking, and I have always been fond of flowers. I love to watch the seasons change as I walk throughout the year, and the flowering of spring is a favorite delight.”

“Do you have any particular fondness for the Sweet William?”

She shook her head. “It is lovely, but it holds no special meaning to me, except for, I suppose, the name itself.”

He thought for a moment, then laughed. “It is word play. And have not we both determined that we share a love for word play?”

They both smiled at each other. “What an odd connection. But I think you must be right.” She took his hand and swung it joyfully as they walked along. He breathed in deep, enjoying the cold bite of the autumn air and the realization that next time the flowers were in bloom, they would enjoy them together.

He had written immediately to his parents, his aunt and uncle, and his cousins, inviting them all to Hertfordshire. The banns, of course, were not required for a soul pairing, so they could marry as soon as his family arrived and the vicar was available. He received letters back saying that they were all to meet in London and travel together. So on the fifth day, his entire family descended upon Netherfield.

Darcy found himself surprisingly proud and excited to introduce his family to Elizabeth. Despite all that she said, he wondered if she worried about making a good impression. He had worried about doing so with her family, especially after his behavior the first time they met. But in her case, there was the added difference in their stations.

“My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me,” she had said smilingly when they had discussed his family’s arrival.

“So you will not be nervous about meeting an earl?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Of course not. I already know the nephew of an earl quite well, and that is almost the very same thing.”

He grinned at her. “Ah, but how well do you truly know this earl’s nephew? Do you know his favorite color?”

“Green?”

He shook his head. “Certainly not.”

“Blue?”

“Not even close. I begin to wonder that we are even soul mates after all, if you cannot name my favorite color.”

“I did not think men had favorite colors. It seems like something a girl would have. Are you certain you are not thinking of your sister?”

“I think I can be trusted to know my own mind. I do have a favorite color, but sadly, even my soul mate does not know it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Red, then.”

“Red! No. I can see that you will not arrive at the right color until you have completed the rainbow, so I will tell you. Brown.”

“Brown? Your favorite color is brown?”

He smiled. “What is wrong with brown?”

“It is so unattractive. Brown is mud and old wood.”

“And chocolate. And the color of your hair, and your sparkling eyes.”

She smiled at him. “Flatterer. Your family will think you have become a flirt.”

He touched her hair softly, reverently. “They will simply know I have met my soul mate.”

He led his family into Longbourn, anxious for the introductions, but froze when he heard her mother’s shrill voice berating her in the parlor they were about to enter.

“Foolish girl, a walk this morning of all mornings! What will they think of you? Headstrong, willful girl. You are lucky you have a soul mark, you know, because the only man who would wish to marry you is one who would die if he did not!”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he entered, not looking back at his mother, the closest to him, to see if she heard.

Elizabeth was seated near her mother and was looking down, her cheeks very pink. When he entered, she looked up, and her color became even brighter as he approached. But he took a moment, first, to greet Mrs. Bennet and speak to her softly.

“You are entirely wrong, madam,” he said. “Had your second daughter not been marked as my soul mate, I would have recognized her many perfections and fallen in love with her nevertheless. Some men might prefer a docile and quiet wife, but for myself, I prefer a vivacious and witty one.”

He smiled at Elizabeth’s open-mouthed wonder and kissed her hand without looking back at her mother. Mrs. Bennet was unusually quiet for the rest of the day, which he could not bring himself to regret.

His parents, of course, were thrilled to meet her. They had feared for his life even more than he had realized. His father told him privately that his mother had collapsed upon receiving the word that he had found her. She had been terribly frightened that she would lose a second son, this one to the soul weakening. She could have been the most atrociously-mannered girl on the earth and they would have glad for her. But very quickly, they came to love her for herself. Her complementary personality to their son’s endeared her to them. She was his perfect balance.

Georgiana approached her shyly, but was also desperately relieved that her brother had found his soul mate, both for himself and for herself. She was ready to love her new sister.

The rest of his family might not have had fears quite so intense, but they all loved Darcy and were relieved to meet her, and pleased for him. Her family’s behavior raised a few eyebrows, but she herself could not.

Darcy fidgeted for the entire meeting, though. He had heard what her mother had said about her, and he knew what he himself had said about her before they formally met. They had to talk.

His opportunity came well into the visit, when everybody was occupied in conversation. Soul mates were encouraged to spend time together to bond, as the bonding developed the more they were together. So nobody batted an eye when they went out into the garden.

“I find myself wondering,” Darcy said, “what our meeting would have been like if we had not carried the soul mark.”

“You would still have insulted me, perhaps,” she said with a cheeky grin. “And I would have let the wound fester and hated you.”

“While I would have come to regret my words and come to love you,” he said seriously.

She looked at him in surprise.

“Dearest Elizabeth, you must know that I have come to love you, most ardently. You have so quickly become my closest friend, my dearest companion, in a way I never thought possible.”

She blushed and looked down. “I feel the same,” she said. “I did not mean to tease you about the insult. But you take my teasing so well.”

“I adore your teasing,” he confessed. “It delights me that somebody does not take me seriously. So much of my life is so very serious.”

She linked her arm in his. “Then we really are perfect for each other. I will tease you, and you will remind me when I must be serious.”

“I love you, Elizabeth Bennet. Not because I must marry you or die, not even because we have been matched. I do not think the soul mark creates love where there is none, I believe it reveals a potential for a deep and abiding love between two people who are truly complementary.” He added ruefully, “That was not the romantic speech I had planned.”

Elizabeth’s eyes were bright as they met his. She blinked quickly, then touched a hand gently to his lapel. He closed his eyes at the intimacy. When he opened them again, she was smiling. “It was romantic to me. I love you, too, Fitzwilliam Darcy. I know you, and I love you. I cannot wait to start our life together.”

He kissed her again. This time he was prepared for the connection. He reveled in it. It felt like his emotions for Pemberley, for his parents and Georgiana, for his aunts and uncle, his cousins, and his friends, all wrapped up as one.

Love. It was love.

The Colonel’s Post

This is a story that I posted to a forum a little over a year ago, but I would like to share it here as well where everyone can read it. Please respect my copyright and do not plagiarize or post this story anywhere else without my explicit permission.

From Elizabeth Bennet to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

You may think your life is more exciting than mine, serving king and country, but I must assure you that, at least according to my mother, the most significant event in all of England is taking place right here in Hertfordshire. Can you guess? Yes, Netherfield Park is let at last! Not only let, but let to a bachelor and his fashionable friends from London. There, now you are astounded at our good fortune, and I am sure you will throw yourself on a horse and return from Spain at once to witness Jane’s marriage to the unknown but clearly very rich man who is coming to take Netherfield.

Of course, if a young man of sense and humor and a reasonably fair face were to take Netherfield, I would not complain. If Jane would not have him and he was willing to settle for second best, I would gladly take him. My father’s refusal to take us to London has left us in dire straits, as there are precious few young men in the vicinity of Meryton. You of all people understand the need to marry for money, but the desire to find love with one’s spouse as well.

In all seriousness, Richard, please take care of yourself. I love you dearly,

Lizzy

From Fitzwilliam Darcy to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

Bingley’s latest harebrained idea has us traipsing off to some country estate he has let for the year in Hertfordshire. I can hope the hunting is good, for I cannot imagine any other reason to leave the comforts of Pemberley or Darcy House for a house that has been shut up for years and is likely to have all new servants. Bingley’s sisters are to accompany us, along with Hurst.

It gives me pain to think of leaving Georgiana after the events of the summer. I intended to refuse, at first, but your mother assures me that she will recover and that it is better I keep to my usual affairs. I had thought to go with Marsden to Sussex, as he is gathering a house party there, but Bingley would have me visit him in Hertfordshire instead, so there I go. I can only imagine what the country society will think of our London party.

Your faithful cousin,

William

From Col. Richard Fitzwilliam to Fitzwilliam Darcy

Dear William,

Compared to my tent in Spain, Bingley’s estate in Hertfordshire sounds ghastly. New servants may not be fully trained, after all. At least my batman has considerable talent in hanging out my uniform, swabbing out wounds, carving wooden legs for those who have lost theirs in battle, and the like. To stay in a house that has been shut up for years? What agonies you must be suffering. I, on the other hand, have a tent with flaps at the side that can be raised for when the godforsaken heat becomes too much, so I can get a little wind flowing through my tent. There is no shut-in feeling here. There is considerable dust build-up, a condition you may also be suffering at Netherfield, but as it is difficult to do anything about it here with all of the wind, I do my best to ignore it. You would be best recommended to do the same at Netherfield, or better yet, ask for a dust cloth yourself should you notice any oversight of the new staff. You can imagine that you are in the next tent over.

As for country society, I am sure they are complete savages. It is a good thing there is nothing you like better than a country dance, though, for did you not once tell me that every savage can dance? You will not lack for partners, especially once they have heard of your ten thousand a year.

In all seriousness, man, Georgiana will recover, and she has learned a great deal from this summer. We, too, have learned a great deal, and I think it wise that we will rely more upon my mother so that she has a woman to guide her. We erred, I think, in keeping her at Pemberley too long with only a hired companion. Her health will continue to improve with a female relative to take her out into society a bit. Perhaps you might consider looking for a wife among the country savages. A lively wife could be good encouragement to Georgiana as it comes time for her debut, and if the girl is from the country, she might not object to spending more time at Pemberley.

Living a life of ease and comfort,

Richard

Col. Richard Fitzwilliam to Elizabeth Bennet

Dear Lizzy,

Your mother is quite right, and the new lessee of Netherfield Park is almost certain to be handsome—and of course intelligent and good-humored, as we know all handsome men are, myself included. Let us hope that he is a rich man able to choose his own bride! You could, perhaps, take a vow of silence for a few weeks in the hopes that you might appear demure enough to win his heart. Then after the wedding, he would be in for quite a shock. I should like to see that. Not many men have the good taste to prefer women who know their own minds, even if I would not have you any other way.

You mentioned that he is said to be bringing some friends from town. Are they gentlemen or ladies? Perhaps they are ladies who will dress all in silks to a country assembly and walk about with feathers and noses in the air. Or gentlemen who will dress finely but stand aloof from everyone and look through their quizzing glasses at the country specimens. I wish that I could be there to observe the spectacle, but my general tells me that there is some purpose to the endless battles here, and so I will stay. I am likely to have some leave in the spring, and will try to see you then.

With all my best wishes,

Richard

Elizabeth Bennet to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

Jane and I are finally returned home from Netherfield. Yes, Netherfield. You may wonder that we had so quickly become the dear friends of Miss B. and her sister Mrs. H. as to be invited to join their house party. Alas, this is not at all the case. Mama’s scheming—I will not bore you with the details, but you can trust that it was ridiculous and that Jane was embarrassed—led to Jane being stranded with a cold at Netherfield for several days, and I went to take care of her.

Jane is half in love with Mr. B already, which suits Mama uncommonly well, but at least he seems a good sort of man. His taste in friends, though! Mr. D. is obnoxious and disliked by all of Hertfordshire, and I’m sure that extends to Derbyshire where he apparently hails from. He insulted me in front of everyone at the assembly. I laughed about it, but it is hard, Richard, to be constantly compared to Jane and coming up wanting. Mr. D. continued his pattern of arrogance during my time at Netherfield. You would laugh to hear some of the things he says. “Pride will be always under good regulation,” indeed!

We returned home just in time to meet my father’s cousin, the Mr. C. who will inherit my father’s estate. He is excessively diverting—for about fifteen minutes. After that, he is just ridiculous. I have never taken quite so many walks. Unfortunately, Mama helpfully invited Mr. C. to accompany us on a walk into Meryton. I believe she may have some ideas in my direction that may need to be stamped out.

I did meet a Mr. W. in Meryton, and see him again at my aunt’s soiree. He is new to the militia, handsome and intelligent. If he had some money of his own, I believe I might be smitten with his charms. As it is, I cannot permit myself the indulgence, but I do so enjoy his company.

Only a little bit charmed,

Lizzy

From Fitzwilliam Darcy to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

You thought you were jesting when you spoke of the savages I would meet in Meryton, but sadly, you were completely correct. Sir W is a tradesman who had the dubious honor of being raised above his station by a knighthood. He wishes to be friends with all the world, with the consequence that he is loud and jovial and went so far as to clap me on the back upon our second meeting.

The B family is the most ridiculous, with the most vulgar matchmaker for a mother and two loud and flirtatious daughters too young to be out in London. The older daughters, at least, seem to be genteel and intelligent young ladies. But such a family they have. Bingley is, of course, in love with the oldest and most lovely of them. She is a sweet and gentle creature, but her younger sister is a far more interesting character, lively and witty with bright and intelligent eyes.

Bingley speaks of having a ball for all of the gentry in the area. I think it unlikely that I shall be able to convince him to leave the area before the ball, but immediately afterwards, I believe we must get him to London. There I can convince him of the foolishness of acting on impulse and making an offer for the pretty but unremarkable daughter of a poor and vulgar family.

Your disgusted cousin,

William

From Col. Richard Fitzwilliam to Elizabeth Bennet

Dear Lizzy,

Your mother’s scheming, however repugnant to you, seems to have gone well for Jane in the end. Several days at Netherfield! I am surprised she did not return engaged. I would imagine your mother is as well!

For a sleepy village, Meryton certainly seems to be teeming with eligible young men this fall! First there is the handsome Mr. B, now claimed by Jane, and the arrogant Mr. D, who insults you. I am sorry, my dear Elizabeth, for whatever his insult was. I think you quite the most interesting girl of my acquaintance, Jane included, for you have a certain liveliness that she does not. I find myself wishing to meet Mr. C, although briefly, as I trust from your description a little goes a long way. As for Mr. W . . . we soldiers make poor husbands, for all we may perform heroically in battle. If I ever find the right heiress to marry, I shall retire, as I do not think I am the sort of man who can be a good husband and a good soldier at the same time.

I believe I know who your Mr. D is, as he is said to be in Hertfordshire now. I can affirm that he does spend most of the balls and assemblies he attends standing against the wall. He is not fond of dancing with those he does not know well. He is said to be quite handsome, though, and quite the catch for whatever young lady manages to capture his eye. I personally cannot imagine why a young lady would ever prefer a tall, dark, and handsome man—in an elegant way—over a rough fair-haired soldier, but so they always do.

The eternal bachelor,

Richard

From Col. Richard Fitzwilliam to Fitzwilliam Darcy

Dear William,

You realize, of course, that Cupid’s arrow has finally pierced you—although I’m not convinced that it has hit your heart, but perhaps your ass instead. Have you listened to yourself? The pertinent parts of your previous letter: “. . . her younger sister is a far more interesting character, lively and witty with bright and intelligent eyes.” I would enclose the actual letter if it were not that I fear you would destroy it to remove all evidence. Darcy in love! I had never thought to see the day. Now do something about it—woo the girl, you clodpole. As it is, I am certain she has no knowledge of your interest and probably thinks you dislike her, as most people think you do. You do dislike most people, though, so perhaps that is not such a false impression.

The older and wiser (than you),

Richard

From Elizabeth Bennet to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

I was right about Mr. D. I only wish it had not come at the expense of Jane’s happiness. He has dragged his friend Mr. B. away to London and the latest crop of rich debutantes, no doubt, and left Jane brokenhearted.

I wish you had not described what “drawn and quartered” means, as I would like to imagine some great revenge upon Mr. D., but do not think I could wish that torture upon anyone. Perhaps tarring and feathering would be appropriate. How dare he destroy all my dear Jane’s hopes for happiness! As for your comments about his looks—you may be right as to his being handsome, but all I can say is, “Handsome is as handsome does,” and by that account he most certainly is not!

We are all in uproar, but lest you believe it is entirely over Mr. B.’s departure . . . well, I cannot say that there would be less uproar if it were, but it is not. Mr. C. has proposed to me, and I have of course declined. I thought it better to decline now than to put arsenic in his soup some day in the future in the hopes that he might, at last, stop talking. Papa agrees, but Mama would probably accept the arsenic if only I bore a son first. She and I, you know, do not often agree on the nature of marriage.

The strangest thing happened, though, after I rejected Mr. C.’s advances. He went to Charlotte Lucas, and she accepted! I cannot understand how she can accept such a man, knowing him as she does. But she appears to be in her right mind and has accepted him. Think you that I should prepare her a vial of arsenic just in case?

Yours,

Lizzy

From Fitzwilliam Darcy to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

In love, what nonsense. I can appreciate a pretty and clever woman without falling in love with her. And I certainly have no intention of wooing the dowry-less daughter of an insignificant country squire.

I have succeeded at last in prying Bingley away from Netherfield, and I believe it was just in time. He was beginning to hint about proposing to Miss Bennet, and of course that would not do. His family is on the cusp of leaving trade behind, and to marry a girl with an uncle in trade would not help in the slightest. If they were in love, it might be worth the missed opportunity, but I am certain that his love for her is fleeting, just as all his previous romantic entanglements were, and she does not seem to care for him beyond her mother’s desire for his wealth and consequence.

Now I need only distract him with social events and new acquaintances until Miss Bennet is forgotten. Once he has fallen in love another time or two, it should be safe to return to Netherfield, as I have never known him to fall in love with the same girl twice.

Your brother says that you may have leave in the spring. Shall you come to Rosings with me, then? I know it is your greatest longing in life to visit Aunt Catherine and woo Anne. Just think, if you married her, you could have an estate of your own. An estate, but not a mind of your own, as Lady Catherine would never permit that.

Your generous friend,

William

From Col. Richard Fitzwilliam to Fitzwilliam Darcy

Dear William,

I am delighted, you know, to discover that you have elevated yourself to the position of matchmaker. It is not a position I would have considered for you, but as I am sure a career for you in the army would end with Georgiana inheriting Pemberley, matchmaking seems considerably safer. I do wonder, though, if Bingley is aware of his social ambitions and the sacrifice that he is making for them? Or have you taken it upon yourself, perhaps with the help of his demanding sisters, to make such decisions?

He is, after all, quite young and easily led. It is much better that, instead of a gentle and sweet country girl, he marry an ambitious social climber from society so that he can reach the absolute pinnacle of ton—or at least, as high as a tradesman’s son can reach. It has always seemed to me that Bingley is exactly the sort of man who cares more about his position in society than his friends.

I do also wonder at your ability to recognize love. But of course, you are an expert on all things, so are more likely than Bingley to recognize whether his young lady is in love with him. Even if you cannot recognize that you, too, have fallen in love with one of the young ladies from Hertfordshire.

You need not worry that I will attempt to steal your bride from you. Anne, my dear cousin, is all yours. Aunt Catherine would have it no other way, you know. She would much rather reign like a queen over Rosings while her daughter and son-in-law were happily settled at Pemberley. I shall have to find my own heiress and leave you to yours.

At your disposal at Rosings,

Richard

From Col. Richard Fitzwilliam to Elizabeth Bennet

Dear Lizzy,

I am very sorry for Jane, and even sorrier for your mother! My mother would be happy to introduce Jane in society if ever your father would allow it, but perhaps that would not be enough to mend a broken heart. But are you certain, then, that she truly loves him? She does not simply think she does because her mother wishes it and you do as well? Yes, you, dearest, do rather assume a great deal, and we know that Jane keeps her emotions and opinions close to her heart. Has she told you that she is in love with Mr. B, or is it merely your opinion? I realize that you do not recollect ever being wrong about a person, but that does not mean that you never have, only that you have a terrible memory.

I do, however, commend your discretion with the arsenic. It would be incredibly humiliating were you to be hanged for murder. I might even lose a promotion by association, even if I had heartily recommended against arsenic—aconite is far less detectable.

Your plans to tar and feather Mr. D simple reassure me about the conclusion I reached a little while ago—you are in love with Mr. D. No, no, do not deny it. Only a woman in love could harbor such vitriol, even if I applaud your recognition that drawing and quartering him would be a step too far. Ah, the pangs of unrequited love.

Yours as always,

Richard

From Elizabeth Bennet to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

I have agreed under moderate duress to visit Charlotte and Mr. C. at Hunsford this spring. I do look forward to seeing my dear friend Charlotte again, but as for Mr. C. . . . well, I look forward to seeing Charlotte again.

Mr. C. is the parson for a certain Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She is your aunt whom you spoke of visiting this spring, is she not? Will you be at Rosings at the same time? I will be there for Easter and would pleased to see you. I must berate you in person, after all, for the tea I spilled when I read your latest letter with your ridiculous notions about Mr. D. Unrequited love indeed! If vitriol meant love, then I believe you would have some explaining to do about your former general—the one who sent men into battle with insufficient training. Of course, you had good reason for your dislike of him, as I do of Mr. D.

My poor Jane is in London now. She visited the superior sisters, but they cut her acquaintance. She has, at last, come to agree that they are not her friends. Her eyes have been opened to the unkindness of people, but I wish it did not have to be in such a way. Mr. B. does not deserve her. Are you certain you must marry for money? Jane would make you a sweet wife. She would not mind being a little poor, I think. Your good humor would make her forget Mr. B. eventually.

Yours faithfully,

Lizzy

From Fitzwilliam Darcy to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

If I were in love with Miss Bennet, which I am not, I would still never be able to marry her. So there is no point to any of your foolishness about it. Romantic, I am not. I still will not marry Anne, though.

Speaking of Anne, I am glad that you are prepared to accompany me to Rosings now that you are home from Spain. I do not feel confident in escaping Lady Catherine’s pronouncements. If I went to Rosings alone, I fear that I would return a married man. I have no intention of making any proposal at Rosings. Please save this letter in case it becomes necessary as proof in an annulment suit later. Perhaps you can remove the first paragraph first.

I feel confident declaring that Bingley was not in love with the eldest Miss Bennet. He was readily convinced that she does not love him, and has permitted his sisters to determine his schedule of events in town. He has attended quite a few balls and soirees, and if he dances and chatters a bit less than he used to, I am sure that another month or two will be all that remains to finish off the last remnants of his romantic entanglement. There was a bit of a complication when Miss Bennet appeared at the Bingley’s townhouse for a visit, but it was not difficult in the end to conceal her visit from Bingley, for whom it would be a setback. Before you say it, one visit does not mean that she is in love, merely that she is polite. She was no doubt in London for other reasons; I believe the Bennets have relations in London.

Sincerely yours,

William

P.S. You will need to remove the last paragraph as well, if needed for an annulment suit. Perhaps I should rewrite the relevant portion on a separate page with my signature, just in case.

Note slipped from Elizabeth Bennet to Richard Fitzwilliam

You could have told me he was your cousin!

Note slipped from Fitzwilliam Darcy to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

You could have told me she was your cousin!

Note slipped from Richard Fitzwilliam to Elizabeth Bennet

I will explain all, dear cousin. Meet me at the grove at the edge of the park tomorrow morning at 10.

Note slipped from Richard Fitzwilliam to Fitzwilliam Darcy

I will explain all, cousin. Meet me at the grove at the edge of the park tomorrow morning at 10.

Note slipped from Elizabeth Bennet to Richard Fitzwilliam

That, cousin, was cruel. You saddled me with Mr. D. for an entire hour. Did you know he can walk in silence for half an hour? And when he did talk, it was to ask me odd unconnected questions, like whether I was enjoying Hunsford, about my solitary walks, and whether I thought the Collinses were happy together. I cannot imagine why he did not simply make some excuse to return to the house, but he insisted on walking back with me to the parsonage. I will take my revenge on you when you least expect it.

Note slipped from Fitzwilliam Darcy to Richard Fitzwilliam

I should take you to task for your interference, but I am too thankful. It was a delight to spend an entire morning with her. You may have been right about my feelings, but it does not change my obligations. Nevertheless, I will enjoy her company while I can.

Letter from Elizabeth Bennet to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

I do not know what to say, but that I am completely ashamed of myself. He wrote to me about Mr. Wickham. I wanted to be angry that you did not tell me first, but then I realized that I never told you about seeing Mr. Wickham in Meryton, at least not by name, and I did not tell you that Mr. Wickham had been telling me stories about Mr. Darcy. Oh, but for my habit of abbreviating names, I might have known all from the start.

But that is not an excuse. I was hurt dreadfully by Mr. Darcy’s insult at the assembly (you see, I am making an effort not to abbreviate names). After so many years of hearing my mother say that I am “not as pretty as Jane” or “nothing to Jane,” I suppose it hurt a great deal to hear a handsome gentleman confirm it. And yes, I will admit that he is handsome, as I have from the first. I was so determined to think that his good opinion was not worth having that I leapt upon every comment or look he made to see evidence of arrogance, conceit, and even cruelty. My judgment has been sorely lacking.

I still cannot say that I like Mr. Darcy, but I wish that I had taken the opportunity to know him better. Perhaps things would have gone differently then. His manners have always been lacking, but then he has the excellent taste to have fallen in love with me. Perhaps I could have helped him to become a little livelier.

You were still wrong. I am not in love with Mr. Darcy. And now I will never have the chance to find out if I could have been.

Yours regretfully,

Lizzy

Letter from Fitzwilliam Darcy to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

Forgive me for not confiding to you in the carriage the other morning. I was unable at the time to put my agony into words. I was angry and despairing, and now that the anger has faded and reason has returned, I will tell you all.

You hinted that I should court your cousin, that she had no hint of my regard, and I scoffed at the idea. Well, time has proven that you were right. I was certain that any young lady would accept me, so I did not court her. After the situation with Georgiana this summer, I was not at my best in Hertfordshire, and that is all she knows of me. A lesser woman would have accepted me for my wealth and position. It is rather ironic that her rejection has proven her exactly the woman I want to marry.

I botched my proposal, and proceeded to insult and demean the woman I love when I spoke to her. I spent more time telling her of her nearest relations’ ridiculous behavior and all the reasons I had wanted to avoid marrying her than I did in telling her that I love her. I love her wit, her humor, her smiles, her laughter. I love the way that she is not afraid to give her opinion, that she does not curry favor with those she does not like. I love that she loves nature as much as I do. The curl of her hair, the spark in her eyes, the smooth cream of her shoulder—I suppose I have had a bit too much brandy if I am telling you all this. Suffice it to say that I may never be able to choose another.

You may have been right about Bingley. Elizabeth thinks so, at least. Forgive me for using her first name, as I have thought of her that way for so long. She declares that I have ruined the happiness of a most beloved sister. If I understand her, then the eldest Miss Bennet was indeed in love with Bingley. If so, I have made a grave mistake. She may not be a practical choice for a wife, but it should have been up to him to make that choice, I see that now. What can I do? Do I tell Bingley what I have learned? Must another person know of my heartache? For you know that Bingley will not let it be.

You were right—matchmaker has not been the best career for me. It will end with Georgiana inheriting Pemberley all the same.

Your heartbroken cousin,

William

Letter from Col. Richard Fitzwilliam to Fitzwilliam Darcy

Dear William,

I thought you might appreciate reading this.

Your helpful cousin,

Richard

P.S. You could have told me Wickham was in Meryton. I could have enlightened her to his character and saved you a great deal of trouble. I would not kill him if I knew where he was, you know. Maybe just maim him a little.

(Enclosed)
Dear Richard,

I do not know what to say, but that I am completely ashamed of myself. He wrote to me about Mr. Wickham. I wanted to be angry that you did not tell me first, but then I realized that I never told you about seeing Mr. Wickham in Meryton, at least not by name, and I did not tell you that Mr. Wickham had been telling me stories about Mr. Darcy. Oh, but for my habit of abbreviating names, I might have known all from the start.

But that is not an excuse. I was hurt dreadfully by Mr. Darcy’s insult at the assembly (you see, I am making an effort not to abbreviate names). After so many years of hearing my mother say that I am “not as pretty as Jane” or “nothing to Jane,” I suppose it hurt a great deal to hear a handsome gentleman confirm it. And yes, I will admit that he is handsome, as I have from the first. I was so determined to think that his good opinion was not worth having that I leapt upon every comment or look he made to see evidence of arrogance, conceit, and even cruelty. My judgment has been sorely lacking.

I still cannot say that I like Mr. Darcy, but I wish that I had taken the opportunity to know him better. Perhaps things would have gone differently then. His manners have always been lacking, but then he has the excellent taste to have fallen in love with me. Perhaps I could have helped him to become a little livelier.

You were still wrong. I am not in love with Mr. Darcy. And now I will never have the chance to find out if I could have been.

Yours regretfully,

Lizzy

Letter from Col. Richard Fitzwilliam to Elizabeth Bennet

Dear Lizzy,

I thought that you might appreciate reading this.

Your cousin,

Richard Fitzwilliam

(Enclosed)
Dear Richard,

Forgive me for not confiding to you in the carriage the other morning. I was unable at the time to put my agony into words. I was angry and despairing, and now that the anger has faded and reason has returned, I will tell you all.

You hinted that I should court your cousin, that she had no hint of my regard, and I scoffed at the idea. Well, time has proven that you were right. I was certain that any young lady would accept me, so I did not court her. After the situation with Georgiana this summer, I was not at my best in Hertfordshire, and that is all she knows of me. A lesser woman would have accepted me for my wealth and position. It is rather ironic that her rejection has proven her exactly the woman I want to marry.

I botched my proposal, and proceeded to insult and demean the woman I love when I spoke to her. I spent more time telling her of her nearest relations’ ridiculous behavior and all the reasons I had wanted to avoid marrying her than I did in telling her that I love her. I love her wit, her humor, her smiles, her laughter. I love the way that she is not afraid to give her opinion, that she does not curry favor with those she does not like. I love that she loves nature as much as I do. The curl of her hair, the spark in her eyes, the smooth cream of her shoulder—I suppose I have had a bit too much brandy if I am telling you all this. Suffice it to say that I may never be able to choose another.

You may also have been right about Bingley. Elizabeth thinks so, at least. Forgive me for using her first name, as I have thought of her that way for so long. She declares that I have ruined the happiness of a most beloved sister. If I understand her, then the eldest Miss Bennet was indeed in love with Bingley. If so, I have made a grave mistake. She may not be a practical choice for a wife, but it should have been up to him to make that choice, I see that now. What can I do? Do I tell Bingley what I have learned? Must another person know of my heartache? For you know that Bingley will not let it be.

You were right—matchmaker has not been the best career for me. It will end with Georgiana inheriting Pemberley all the same.

Your heartbroken cousin,

William

Letter from Elizabeth Bennet to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

I do not know whether to thank you or kill you. Reading Mr. Darcy’s letter was heartbreaking. But it has also given me hope.

However, if you’ve sent me Mr. Darcy’s letter, then I am guessing you’ve sent him mine. Foul deed, Richard, foul deed. Now I cannot remember exactly what I said, but what I do remember is that I said it to you, not to Mr. Darcy!

Lizzy

Letter from Fitzwilliam Darcy to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

If I were not so embarrassed to remember the things I said in my letter, which you presumably sent to Elizabeth, I would be thanking you for sending me hers. It seems that you have decided to resign your commission in the army and move on to matchmaking yourself.

And yet perhaps I should thank you, because you have given me hope. A small amount of hope, but hope it is. I will speak to Bingley and tell him all, yes, even the most embarrassing truths. Then I will go to Hertfordshire to see if Elizabeth will give me a second chance if I court her properly.

You may be invited to the wedding, if you can contain your sarcasm long enough to stand up with me.

Your grateful cousin,

William

Letter from Richard Fitzwilliam to Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy

Dear William and Lizzy,

Sophia and I send you our sincerest best wishes on your newest offspring. My dear wife is surprised, however, that there are any names left for your children. Have you begun reusing middle names as first yet?

I do congratulate you, though. When the Good Lord said to go forth and multiply, he clearly had the two of you in mind for Derbyshire. Fortunately, Sophia and I will have help with London, as I do not think we have the income to support quite so many children.

Your interference in my courtship with Sophia was not appreciated at the time, but now that we have had six months of happily wedded bliss, I believe I can thank both of you from the bottom of my heart. I understand that your final foray back into matchmaking was entirely Lizzy’s idea even as the execution was William’s. I will admit, finally, that it is a better career choice than the army would have been. I think we can safely say that Georgiana is not going to inherit Pemberley! Blackstone will suit her and Lord Trevelyan just fine.

Your favorite cousin,

Richard

The Colonel's Post

This is a story that I posted to a forum a little over a year ago, but I would like to share it here as well where everyone can read it. Please respect my copyright and do not plagiarize or post this story anywhere else without my explicit permission.

From Elizabeth Bennet to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

You may think your life is more exciting than mine, serving king and country, but I must assure you that, at least according to my mother, the most significant event in all of England is taking place right here in Hertfordshire. Can you guess? Yes, Netherfield Park is let at last! Not only let, but let to a bachelor and his fashionable friends from London. There, now you are astounded at our good fortune, and I am sure you will throw yourself on a horse and return from Spain at once to witness Jane’s marriage to the unknown but clearly very rich man who is coming to take Netherfield.

Of course, if a young man of sense and humor and a reasonably fair face were to take Netherfield, I would not complain. If Jane would not have him and he was willing to settle for second best, I would gladly take him. My father’s refusal to take us to London has left us in dire straits, as there are precious few young men in the vicinity of Meryton. You of all people understand the need to marry for money, but the desire to find love with one’s spouse as well.

In all seriousness, Richard, please take care of yourself. I love you dearly,

Lizzy

From Fitzwilliam Darcy to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

Bingley’s latest harebrained idea has us traipsing off to some country estate he has let for the year in Hertfordshire. I can hope the hunting is good, for I cannot imagine any other reason to leave the comforts of Pemberley or Darcy House for a house that has been shut up for years and is likely to have all new servants. Bingley’s sisters are to accompany us, along with Hurst.

It gives me pain to think of leaving Georgiana after the events of the summer. I intended to refuse, at first, but your mother assures me that she will recover and that it is better I keep to my usual affairs. I had thought to go with Marsden to Sussex, as he is gathering a house party there, but Bingley would have me visit him in Hertfordshire instead, so there I go. I can only imagine what the country society will think of our London party.

Your faithful cousin,

William

From Col. Richard Fitzwilliam to Fitzwilliam Darcy

Dear William,

Compared to my tent in Spain, Bingley’s estate in Hertfordshire sounds ghastly. New servants may not be fully trained, after all. At least my batman has considerable talent in hanging out my uniform, swabbing out wounds, carving wooden legs for those who have lost theirs in battle, and the like. To stay in a house that has been shut up for years? What agonies you must be suffering. I, on the other hand, have a tent with flaps at the side that can be raised for when the godforsaken heat becomes too much, so I can get a little wind flowing through my tent. There is no shut-in feeling here. There is considerable dust build-up, a condition you may also be suffering at Netherfield, but as it is difficult to do anything about it here with all of the wind, I do my best to ignore it. You would be best recommended to do the same at Netherfield, or better yet, ask for a dust cloth yourself should you notice any oversight of the new staff. You can imagine that you are in the next tent over.

As for country society, I am sure they are complete savages. It is a good thing there is nothing you like better than a country dance, though, for did you not once tell me that every savage can dance? You will not lack for partners, especially once they have heard of your ten thousand a year.

In all seriousness, man, Georgiana will recover, and she has learned a great deal from this summer. We, too, have learned a great deal, and I think it wise that we will rely more upon my mother so that she has a woman to guide her. We erred, I think, in keeping her at Pemberley too long with only a hired companion. Her health will continue to improve with a female relative to take her out into society a bit. Perhaps you might consider looking for a wife among the country savages. A lively wife could be good encouragement to Georgiana as it comes time for her debut, and if the girl is from the country, she might not object to spending more time at Pemberley.

Living a life of ease and comfort,

Richard

Col. Richard Fitzwilliam to Elizabeth Bennet

Dear Lizzy,

Your mother is quite right, and the new lessee of Netherfield Park is almost certain to be handsome—and of course intelligent and good-humored, as we know all handsome men are, myself included. Let us hope that he is a rich man able to choose his own bride! You could, perhaps, take a vow of silence for a few weeks in the hopes that you might appear demure enough to win his heart. Then after the wedding, he would be in for quite a shock. I should like to see that. Not many men have the good taste to prefer women who know their own minds, even if I would not have you any other way.

You mentioned that he is said to be bringing some friends from town. Are they gentlemen or ladies? Perhaps they are ladies who will dress all in silks to a country assembly and walk about with feathers and noses in the air. Or gentlemen who will dress finely but stand aloof from everyone and look through their quizzing glasses at the country specimens. I wish that I could be there to observe the spectacle, but my general tells me that there is some purpose to the endless battles here, and so I will stay. I am likely to have some leave in the spring, and will try to see you then.

With all my best wishes,

Richard

Elizabeth Bennet to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

Jane and I are finally returned home from Netherfield. Yes, Netherfield. You may wonder that we had so quickly become the dear friends of Miss B. and her sister Mrs. H. as to be invited to join their house party. Alas, this is not at all the case. Mama’s scheming—I will not bore you with the details, but you can trust that it was ridiculous and that Jane was embarrassed—led to Jane being stranded with a cold at Netherfield for several days, and I went to take care of her.

Jane is half in love with Mr. B already, which suits Mama uncommonly well, but at least he seems a good sort of man. His taste in friends, though! Mr. D. is obnoxious and disliked by all of Hertfordshire, and I’m sure that extends to Derbyshire where he apparently hails from. He insulted me in front of everyone at the assembly. I laughed about it, but it is hard, Richard, to be constantly compared to Jane and coming up wanting. Mr. D. continued his pattern of arrogance during my time at Netherfield. You would laugh to hear some of the things he says. “Pride will be always under good regulation,” indeed!

We returned home just in time to meet my father’s cousin, the Mr. C. who will inherit my father’s estate. He is excessively diverting—for about fifteen minutes. After that, he is just ridiculous. I have never taken quite so many walks. Unfortunately, Mama helpfully invited Mr. C. to accompany us on a walk into Meryton. I believe she may have some ideas in my direction that may need to be stamped out.

I did meet a Mr. W. in Meryton, and see him again at my aunt’s soiree. He is new to the militia, handsome and intelligent. If he had some money of his own, I believe I might be smitten with his charms. As it is, I cannot permit myself the indulgence, but I do so enjoy his company.

Only a little bit charmed,

Lizzy

From Fitzwilliam Darcy to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

You thought you were jesting when you spoke of the savages I would meet in Meryton, but sadly, you were completely correct. Sir W is a tradesman who had the dubious honor of being raised above his station by a knighthood. He wishes to be friends with all the world, with the consequence that he is loud and jovial and went so far as to clap me on the back upon our second meeting.

The B family is the most ridiculous, with the most vulgar matchmaker for a mother and two loud and flirtatious daughters too young to be out in London. The older daughters, at least, seem to be genteel and intelligent young ladies. But such a family they have. Bingley is, of course, in love with the oldest and most lovely of them. She is a sweet and gentle creature, but her younger sister is a far more interesting character, lively and witty with bright and intelligent eyes.

Bingley speaks of having a ball for all of the gentry in the area. I think it unlikely that I shall be able to convince him to leave the area before the ball, but immediately afterwards, I believe we must get him to London. There I can convince him of the foolishness of acting on impulse and making an offer for the pretty but unremarkable daughter of a poor and vulgar family.

Your disgusted cousin,

William

From Col. Richard Fitzwilliam to Elizabeth Bennet

Dear Lizzy,

Your mother’s scheming, however repugnant to you, seems to have gone well for Jane in the end. Several days at Netherfield! I am surprised she did not return engaged. I would imagine your mother is as well!

For a sleepy village, Meryton certainly seems to be teeming with eligible young men this fall! First there is the handsome Mr. B, now claimed by Jane, and the arrogant Mr. D, who insults you. I am sorry, my dear Elizabeth, for whatever his insult was. I think you quite the most interesting girl of my acquaintance, Jane included, for you have a certain liveliness that she does not. I find myself wishing to meet Mr. C, although briefly, as I trust from your description a little goes a long way. As for Mr. W . . . we soldiers make poor husbands, for all we may perform heroically in battle. If I ever find the right heiress to marry, I shall retire, as I do not think I am the sort of man who can be a good husband and a good soldier at the same time.

I believe I know who your Mr. D is, as he is said to be in Hertfordshire now. I can affirm that he does spend most of the balls and assemblies he attends standing against the wall. He is not fond of dancing with those he does not know well. He is said to be quite handsome, though, and quite the catch for whatever young lady manages to capture his eye. I personally cannot imagine why a young lady would ever prefer a tall, dark, and handsome man—in an elegant way—over a rough fair-haired soldier, but so they always do.

The eternal bachelor,

Richard

From Col. Richard Fitzwilliam to Fitzwilliam Darcy

Dear William,

You realize, of course, that Cupid’s arrow has finally pierced you—although I’m not convinced that it has hit your heart, but perhaps your ass instead. Have you listened to yourself? The pertinent parts of your previous letter: “. . . her younger sister is a far more interesting character, lively and witty with bright and intelligent eyes.” I would enclose the actual letter if it were not that I fear you would destroy it to remove all evidence. Darcy in love! I had never thought to see the day. Now do something about it—woo the girl, you clodpole. As it is, I am certain she has no knowledge of your interest and probably thinks you dislike her, as most people think you do. You do dislike most people, though, so perhaps that is not such a false impression.

The older and wiser (than you),

Richard

From Elizabeth Bennet to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

I was right about Mr. D. I only wish it had not come at the expense of Jane’s happiness. He has dragged his friend Mr. B. away to London and the latest crop of rich debutantes, no doubt, and left Jane brokenhearted.

I wish you had not described what “drawn and quartered” means, as I would like to imagine some great revenge upon Mr. D., but do not think I could wish that torture upon anyone. Perhaps tarring and feathering would be appropriate. How dare he destroy all my dear Jane’s hopes for happiness! As for your comments about his looks—you may be right as to his being handsome, but all I can say is, “Handsome is as handsome does,” and by that account he most certainly is not!

We are all in uproar, but lest you believe it is entirely over Mr. B.’s departure . . . well, I cannot say that there would be less uproar if it were, but it is not. Mr. C. has proposed to me, and I have of course declined. I thought it better to decline now than to put arsenic in his soup some day in the future in the hopes that he might, at last, stop talking. Papa agrees, but Mama would probably accept the arsenic if only I bore a son first. She and I, you know, do not often agree on the nature of marriage.

The strangest thing happened, though, after I rejected Mr. C.’s advances. He went to Charlotte Lucas, and she accepted! I cannot understand how she can accept such a man, knowing him as she does. But she appears to be in her right mind and has accepted him. Think you that I should prepare her a vial of arsenic just in case?

Yours,

Lizzy

From Fitzwilliam Darcy to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

In love, what nonsense. I can appreciate a pretty and clever woman without falling in love with her. And I certainly have no intention of wooing the dowry-less daughter of an insignificant country squire.

I have succeeded at last in prying Bingley away from Netherfield, and I believe it was just in time. He was beginning to hint about proposing to Miss Bennet, and of course that would not do. His family is on the cusp of leaving trade behind, and to marry a girl with an uncle in trade would not help in the slightest. If they were in love, it might be worth the missed opportunity, but I am certain that his love for her is fleeting, just as all his previous romantic entanglements were, and she does not seem to care for him beyond her mother’s desire for his wealth and consequence.

Now I need only distract him with social events and new acquaintances until Miss Bennet is forgotten. Once he has fallen in love another time or two, it should be safe to return to Netherfield, as I have never known him to fall in love with the same girl twice.

Your brother says that you may have leave in the spring. Shall you come to Rosings with me, then? I know it is your greatest longing in life to visit Aunt Catherine and woo Anne. Just think, if you married her, you could have an estate of your own. An estate, but not a mind of your own, as Lady Catherine would never permit that.

Your generous friend,

William

From Col. Richard Fitzwilliam to Fitzwilliam Darcy

Dear William,

I am delighted, you know, to discover that you have elevated yourself to the position of matchmaker. It is not a position I would have considered for you, but as I am sure a career for you in the army would end with Georgiana inheriting Pemberley, matchmaking seems considerably safer. I do wonder, though, if Bingley is aware of his social ambitions and the sacrifice that he is making for them? Or have you taken it upon yourself, perhaps with the help of his demanding sisters, to make such decisions?

He is, after all, quite young and easily led. It is much better that, instead of a gentle and sweet country girl, he marry an ambitious social climber from society so that he can reach the absolute pinnacle of ton—or at least, as high as a tradesman’s son can reach. It has always seemed to me that Bingley is exactly the sort of man who cares more about his position in society than his friends.

I do also wonder at your ability to recognize love. But of course, you are an expert on all things, so are more likely than Bingley to recognize whether his young lady is in love with him. Even if you cannot recognize that you, too, have fallen in love with one of the young ladies from Hertfordshire.

You need not worry that I will attempt to steal your bride from you. Anne, my dear cousin, is all yours. Aunt Catherine would have it no other way, you know. She would much rather reign like a queen over Rosings while her daughter and son-in-law were happily settled at Pemberley. I shall have to find my own heiress and leave you to yours.

At your disposal at Rosings,

Richard

From Col. Richard Fitzwilliam to Elizabeth Bennet

Dear Lizzy,

I am very sorry for Jane, and even sorrier for your mother! My mother would be happy to introduce Jane in society if ever your father would allow it, but perhaps that would not be enough to mend a broken heart. But are you certain, then, that she truly loves him? She does not simply think she does because her mother wishes it and you do as well? Yes, you, dearest, do rather assume a great deal, and we know that Jane keeps her emotions and opinions close to her heart. Has she told you that she is in love with Mr. B, or is it merely your opinion? I realize that you do not recollect ever being wrong about a person, but that does not mean that you never have, only that you have a terrible memory.

I do, however, commend your discretion with the arsenic. It would be incredibly humiliating were you to be hanged for murder. I might even lose a promotion by association, even if I had heartily recommended against arsenic—aconite is far less detectable.

Your plans to tar and feather Mr. D simple reassure me about the conclusion I reached a little while ago—you are in love with Mr. D. No, no, do not deny it. Only a woman in love could harbor such vitriol, even if I applaud your recognition that drawing and quartering him would be a step too far. Ah, the pangs of unrequited love.

Yours as always,

Richard

From Elizabeth Bennet to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

I have agreed under moderate duress to visit Charlotte and Mr. C. at Hunsford this spring. I do look forward to seeing my dear friend Charlotte again, but as for Mr. C. . . . well, I look forward to seeing Charlotte again.

Mr. C. is the parson for a certain Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She is your aunt whom you spoke of visiting this spring, is she not? Will you be at Rosings at the same time? I will be there for Easter and would pleased to see you. I must berate you in person, after all, for the tea I spilled when I read your latest letter with your ridiculous notions about Mr. D. Unrequited love indeed! If vitriol meant love, then I believe you would have some explaining to do about your former general—the one who sent men into battle with insufficient training. Of course, you had good reason for your dislike of him, as I do of Mr. D.

My poor Jane is in London now. She visited the superior sisters, but they cut her acquaintance. She has, at last, come to agree that they are not her friends. Her eyes have been opened to the unkindness of people, but I wish it did not have to be in such a way. Mr. B. does not deserve her. Are you certain you must marry for money? Jane would make you a sweet wife. She would not mind being a little poor, I think. Your good humor would make her forget Mr. B. eventually.

Yours faithfully,

Lizzy

From Fitzwilliam Darcy to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

If I were in love with Miss Bennet, which I am not, I would still never be able to marry her. So there is no point to any of your foolishness about it. Romantic, I am not. I still will not marry Anne, though.

Speaking of Anne, I am glad that you are prepared to accompany me to Rosings now that you are home from Spain. I do not feel confident in escaping Lady Catherine’s pronouncements. If I went to Rosings alone, I fear that I would return a married man. I have no intention of making any proposal at Rosings. Please save this letter in case it becomes necessary as proof in an annulment suit later. Perhaps you can remove the first paragraph first.

I feel confident declaring that Bingley was not in love with the eldest Miss Bennet. He was readily convinced that she does not love him, and has permitted his sisters to determine his schedule of events in town. He has attended quite a few balls and soirees, and if he dances and chatters a bit less than he used to, I am sure that another month or two will be all that remains to finish off the last remnants of his romantic entanglement. There was a bit of a complication when Miss Bennet appeared at the Bingley’s townhouse for a visit, but it was not difficult in the end to conceal her visit from Bingley, for whom it would be a setback. Before you say it, one visit does not mean that she is in love, merely that she is polite. She was no doubt in London for other reasons; I believe the Bennets have relations in London.

Sincerely yours,

William

P.S. You will need to remove the last paragraph as well, if needed for an annulment suit. Perhaps I should rewrite the relevant portion on a separate page with my signature, just in case.

Note slipped from Elizabeth Bennet to Richard Fitzwilliam

You could have told me he was your cousin!

Note slipped from Fitzwilliam Darcy to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

You could have told me she was your cousin!

Note slipped from Richard Fitzwilliam to Elizabeth Bennet

I will explain all, dear cousin. Meet me at the grove at the edge of the park tomorrow morning at 10.

Note slipped from Richard Fitzwilliam to Fitzwilliam Darcy

I will explain all, cousin. Meet me at the grove at the edge of the park tomorrow morning at 10.

Note slipped from Elizabeth Bennet to Richard Fitzwilliam

That, cousin, was cruel. You saddled me with Mr. D. for an entire hour. Did you know he can walk in silence for half an hour? And when he did talk, it was to ask me odd unconnected questions, like whether I was enjoying Hunsford, about my solitary walks, and whether I thought the Collinses were happy together. I cannot imagine why he did not simply make some excuse to return to the house, but he insisted on walking back with me to the parsonage. I will take my revenge on you when you least expect it.

Note slipped from Fitzwilliam Darcy to Richard Fitzwilliam

I should take you to task for your interference, but I am too thankful. It was a delight to spend an entire morning with her. You may have been right about my feelings, but it does not change my obligations. Nevertheless, I will enjoy her company while I can.

Letter from Elizabeth Bennet to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

I do not know what to say, but that I am completely ashamed of myself. He wrote to me about Mr. Wickham. I wanted to be angry that you did not tell me first, but then I realized that I never told you about seeing Mr. Wickham in Meryton, at least not by name, and I did not tell you that Mr. Wickham had been telling me stories about Mr. Darcy. Oh, but for my habit of abbreviating names, I might have known all from the start.

But that is not an excuse. I was hurt dreadfully by Mr. Darcy’s insult at the assembly (you see, I am making an effort not to abbreviate names). After so many years of hearing my mother say that I am “not as pretty as Jane” or “nothing to Jane,” I suppose it hurt a great deal to hear a handsome gentleman confirm it. And yes, I will admit that he is handsome, as I have from the first. I was so determined to think that his good opinion was not worth having that I leapt upon every comment or look he made to see evidence of arrogance, conceit, and even cruelty. My judgment has been sorely lacking.

I still cannot say that I like Mr. Darcy, but I wish that I had taken the opportunity to know him better. Perhaps things would have gone differently then. His manners have always been lacking, but then he has the excellent taste to have fallen in love with me. Perhaps I could have helped him to become a little livelier.

You were still wrong. I am not in love with Mr. Darcy. And now I will never have the chance to find out if I could have been.

Yours regretfully,

Lizzy

Letter from Fitzwilliam Darcy to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

Forgive me for not confiding to you in the carriage the other morning. I was unable at the time to put my agony into words. I was angry and despairing, and now that the anger has faded and reason has returned, I will tell you all.

You hinted that I should court your cousin, that she had no hint of my regard, and I scoffed at the idea. Well, time has proven that you were right. I was certain that any young lady would accept me, so I did not court her. After the situation with Georgiana this summer, I was not at my best in Hertfordshire, and that is all she knows of me. A lesser woman would have accepted me for my wealth and position. It is rather ironic that her rejection has proven her exactly the woman I want to marry.

I botched my proposal, and proceeded to insult and demean the woman I love when I spoke to her. I spent more time telling her of her nearest relations’ ridiculous behavior and all the reasons I had wanted to avoid marrying her than I did in telling her that I love her. I love her wit, her humor, her smiles, her laughter. I love the way that she is not afraid to give her opinion, that she does not curry favor with those she does not like. I love that she loves nature as much as I do. The curl of her hair, the spark in her eyes, the smooth cream of her shoulder—I suppose I have had a bit too much brandy if I am telling you all this. Suffice it to say that I may never be able to choose another.

You may have been right about Bingley. Elizabeth thinks so, at least. Forgive me for using her first name, as I have thought of her that way for so long. She declares that I have ruined the happiness of a most beloved sister. If I understand her, then the eldest Miss Bennet was indeed in love with Bingley. If so, I have made a grave mistake. She may not be a practical choice for a wife, but it should have been up to him to make that choice, I see that now. What can I do? Do I tell Bingley what I have learned? Must another person know of my heartache? For you know that Bingley will not let it be.

You were right—matchmaker has not been the best career for me. It will end with Georgiana inheriting Pemberley all the same.

Your heartbroken cousin,

William

Letter from Col. Richard Fitzwilliam to Fitzwilliam Darcy

Dear William,

I thought you might appreciate reading this.

Your helpful cousin,

Richard

P.S. You could have told me Wickham was in Meryton. I could have enlightened her to his character and saved you a great deal of trouble. I would not kill him if I knew where he was, you know. Maybe just maim him a little.

(Enclosed)
Dear Richard,

I do not know what to say, but that I am completely ashamed of myself. He wrote to me about Mr. Wickham. I wanted to be angry that you did not tell me first, but then I realized that I never told you about seeing Mr. Wickham in Meryton, at least not by name, and I did not tell you that Mr. Wickham had been telling me stories about Mr. Darcy. Oh, but for my habit of abbreviating names, I might have known all from the start.

But that is not an excuse. I was hurt dreadfully by Mr. Darcy’s insult at the assembly (you see, I am making an effort not to abbreviate names). After so many years of hearing my mother say that I am “not as pretty as Jane” or “nothing to Jane,” I suppose it hurt a great deal to hear a handsome gentleman confirm it. And yes, I will admit that he is handsome, as I have from the first. I was so determined to think that his good opinion was not worth having that I leapt upon every comment or look he made to see evidence of arrogance, conceit, and even cruelty. My judgment has been sorely lacking.

I still cannot say that I like Mr. Darcy, but I wish that I had taken the opportunity to know him better. Perhaps things would have gone differently then. His manners have always been lacking, but then he has the excellent taste to have fallen in love with me. Perhaps I could have helped him to become a little livelier.

You were still wrong. I am not in love with Mr. Darcy. And now I will never have the chance to find out if I could have been.

Yours regretfully,

Lizzy

Letter from Col. Richard Fitzwilliam to Elizabeth Bennet

Dear Lizzy,

I thought that you might appreciate reading this.

Your cousin,

Richard Fitzwilliam

(Enclosed)
Dear Richard,

Forgive me for not confiding to you in the carriage the other morning. I was unable at the time to put my agony into words. I was angry and despairing, and now that the anger has faded and reason has returned, I will tell you all.

You hinted that I should court your cousin, that she had no hint of my regard, and I scoffed at the idea. Well, time has proven that you were right. I was certain that any young lady would accept me, so I did not court her. After the situation with Georgiana this summer, I was not at my best in Hertfordshire, and that is all she knows of me. A lesser woman would have accepted me for my wealth and position. It is rather ironic that her rejection has proven her exactly the woman I want to marry.

I botched my proposal, and proceeded to insult and demean the woman I love when I spoke to her. I spent more time telling her of her nearest relations’ ridiculous behavior and all the reasons I had wanted to avoid marrying her than I did in telling her that I love her. I love her wit, her humor, her smiles, her laughter. I love the way that she is not afraid to give her opinion, that she does not curry favor with those she does not like. I love that she loves nature as much as I do. The curl of her hair, the spark in her eyes, the smooth cream of her shoulder—I suppose I have had a bit too much brandy if I am telling you all this. Suffice it to say that I may never be able to choose another.

You may also have been right about Bingley. Elizabeth thinks so, at least. Forgive me for using her first name, as I have thought of her that way for so long. She declares that I have ruined the happiness of a most beloved sister. If I understand her, then the eldest Miss Bennet was indeed in love with Bingley. If so, I have made a grave mistake. She may not be a practical choice for a wife, but it should have been up to him to make that choice, I see that now. What can I do? Do I tell Bingley what I have learned? Must another person know of my heartache? For you know that Bingley will not let it be.

You were right—matchmaker has not been the best career for me. It will end with Georgiana inheriting Pemberley all the same.

Your heartbroken cousin,

William

Letter from Elizabeth Bennet to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

I do not know whether to thank you or kill you. Reading Mr. Darcy’s letter was heartbreaking. But it has also given me hope.

However, if you’ve sent me Mr. Darcy’s letter, then I am guessing you’ve sent him mine. Foul deed, Richard, foul deed. Now I cannot remember exactly what I said, but what I do remember is that I said it to you, not to Mr. Darcy!

Lizzy

Letter from Fitzwilliam Darcy to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam

Dear Richard,

If I were not so embarrassed to remember the things I said in my letter, which you presumably sent to Elizabeth, I would be thanking you for sending me hers. It seems that you have decided to resign your commission in the army and move on to matchmaking yourself.

And yet perhaps I should thank you, because you have given me hope. A small amount of hope, but hope it is. I will speak to Bingley and tell him all, yes, even the most embarrassing truths. Then I will go to Hertfordshire to see if Elizabeth will give me a second chance if I court her properly.

You may be invited to the wedding, if you can contain your sarcasm long enough to stand up with me.

Your grateful cousin,

William

Letter from Richard Fitzwilliam to Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy

Dear William and Lizzy,

Sophia and I send you our sincerest best wishes on your newest offspring. My dear wife is surprised, however, that there are any names left for your children. Have you begun reusing middle names as first yet?

I do congratulate you, though. When the Good Lord said to go forth and multiply, he clearly had the two of you in mind for Derbyshire. Fortunately, Sophia and I will have help with London, as I do not think we have the income to support quite so many children.

Your interference in my courtship with Sophia was not appreciated at the time, but now that we have had six months of happily wedded bliss, I believe I can thank both of you from the bottom of my heart. I understand that your final foray back into matchmaking was entirely Lizzy’s idea even as the execution was William’s. I will admit, finally, that it is a better career choice than the army would have been. I think we can safely say that Georgiana is not going to inherit Pemberley! Blackstone will suit her and Lord Trevelyan just fine.

Your favorite cousin,

Richard