I can't believe I did it! It was a very close call this year, and while I logged over 50,000 words, I did not get anywhere close to my personal goal of 150,000. Oh well. The project is now shelved until 2019. It's party time!
My Writing
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Friday, November 30, 2018
Friday, November 9, 2018
Twisted Austen Winners Announced
Thanks so much to everyone who read Young Wickham and entered the giveaway! The book will remain available on this blog just a few weeks more, at which time I will remove it. The story can now be purchased at Amazon.
Without further ado, the two grand winners are:
Both will receive a set of decorative clothes pins and ebooks of all the Twisted Austen stories, including Young Wickham.
The two runners up are:
Each will receive a Young Wickham ebook.
Thanks so much to everyone. I will be in touch with the winners soon. I am sorry I wasn't better about replying to everyone's comments. I read them all, it's just that life is terribly busy at the moment (and that's before NaNoWriMo). Happy but hectic. I wish you all beautiful Novembers.
Without further ado, the two grand winners are:
Patty Edmisson and Glynis
Both will receive a set of decorative clothes pins and ebooks of all the Twisted Austen stories, including Young Wickham.
The two runners up are:
Randi Chance and Deborah Ann
Each will receive a Young Wickham ebook.
Thanks so much to everyone. I will be in touch with the winners soon. I am sorry I wasn't better about replying to everyone's comments. I read them all, it's just that life is terribly busy at the moment (and that's before NaNoWriMo). Happy but hectic. I wish you all beautiful Novembers.
Wednesday, October 31, 2018
Young Wickham: Part Eight
PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR / PART FIVE / PART SIX / PART SEVEN
When Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy, and Mr. Bingley
entered upon the scene, having been belatedly alerted to Mrs. Norton’s ailment,
the drawing room was yet a scene of chaos. Their appearance had the helpful
effect of silencing the many children clamoring around the sofa upon which she lay,
her head in Mrs. Bingley’s lap. They parted before their elders like the Red
Sea.
“What is wrong? What has happened?” Mrs. Darcy
cried, kneeling down beside her sister and feeling for her pulse.
“She ran into the house screaming she had been
shot!” Mrs. Bingley said in a shaky voice. “Yet there is no blood.”
Mrs. Darcy began inspecting her sister’s form
for injury and Mr. Darcy ordered, “Miss Lee! Miss Jones! Please remove your
charges from the room!” The children, suddenly compliant, were quickly ushered
out the door, while Edmund approached his father and pulled him aside.
Tom signaled to Mark and George to follow the
others, and the three had almost escaped when Mr. Darcy, still beside Edmund,
pointed an accusing finger their way and said, “Not you three!"
The boys turned
reluctantly around and slowly walked back across the room.
“Edmund believes you may know something of
what has befallen your aunt,” he said sternly, looking to his eldest. “I am
waiting for you to enlighten me, Tom.”
“We were just in the woods by the lawn,” he
smoothly replied. “We came in when we heard Aunt Norton hollering, like
everyone else. I don’t know why Edmund should think we have any more
information than any of the others.”
Mr. Darcy looked at both Mark and George,
neither of whom could hide their guilt as well as Tom, and sighed miserably. He
knew not when his son had become such an accomplished liar, but the realization
that he was tore at his heart. “Mark? George? What have you to say for
yourselves.” Neither boy replied, both staring downward in shame. Mr. Darcy
looked again to his son, who confidently met his eye. “Are you lying to me,
Tom?”
Tom dropped his
gaze and assumed an attitude of repentance. “I am sorry, Father.”
“Tell me what
happened.”
“George did not
mean any harm,” he quickly said, “I am sure he did not.”
“Me?” George
exclaimed in alarm.
“George is not to blame,” Mark spoke up. “It
was our idea. He warned us it was a poor one, but we really did not mean to do
Aunt Norton any harm.”
“Mark!” Tom
exclaimed, his voice a warning.
“What did you
do?” Mr. Darcy asked, the words seeming to come from someone else.
Mark swallowed hard, looked pleadingly at Tom,
then back at Mr. Darcy. “Tom fired his slingshot across Aunt Norton’s path. He
did not hit her. I swear it.”
His nephew’s admission was like a knife in Mr.
Darcy’s side, slowly twisting as the full magnitude of what he was hearing sunk
in. His son had played a dangerous prank, which was bad enough, but then he
lied about it and tried to blame another. He must have thought his father would
believe him over this new nephew, the son of his old nemesis. Never had Mr.
Darcy felt more a failure, not even when Wickham nearly absconded with his
sister, all those many years ago.
Mrs. Norton was beginning to rouse and moan.
Mr. Darcy Looked to where his wife sat busily administering to her sister and
was grateful she had been spared the burden of her son’s sins, at least
temporarily. “Go to my study and wait for me there,” he ordered the three boys.
“You too Edmund. I will be in to speak with you shortly.”
§§§
“You betrayed me, Mark!” Tom said as soon as
they were in the privacy of Mr. Darcy’s study. “And you too, Edmund. How dare
you!”
“How dare I?” Edmund, never one to raise his
voice, nearly shouted. “How dare you! Where do you find the audacity, Tom? Have
you no thought at all for the lives you endangered? Yes, lives! For you placed
George’s life in threat today just as much as you did Aunt Norton’s. I am
ashamed to call you brother.”
“You had best not speak so to me,” Tom
growled. “I should be sorry to see another prospective rector of Kympton lose
his livelihood.”
“It is not in your power to deprive me of my
birthright, but it is within Father’s. Yours as well. If nothing else inspires
you to contrition, I am certain losing your inheritance would.”
Tom had no reply
to this, and for the first time seemed truly chastened.
“What did you
mean by ‘another prospective rector of Kympton?’” Mark suddenly asked.
“My father was meant to have the living,”
George explained. “Tom implies Uncle Darcy denied it to him, but it is not
true. He accepted a cash settlement for the value of the living.”
“I don’t know how you know that,” Mr. Darcy’s
voice interrupted the boys, who had not heard the door open. Mr. Bingley
followed him into the room. “I am sure your father never told you.”
George blushed but faced his uncle and said,
“No, my father spoke rather bitterly of the loss of the living, but long before
I came here and met you I realized his version of events did not add up.”
“George has been
snooping through old estate ledgers, Father,” Tom said.
“At your
insistence,” Edmund appnded, earning him a violent glare from his brother.
Mr. Darcy sighed heavily and dropped into his
chair. “Your aunt will recover, though she has suffered a severe shock. I hope
all of you understand the seriousness of your actions. Had your thoughtless
prank resulted in her death, you might have been held responsible before the
law.” He paused to allow this notion to seep into their minds.
“I am very disappointed in you, Mark, to pull
such a cruel trick,” Mr. Bingley said. “I must discuss with your mother how
best to punish you, but I assure you it will be severe.”
“Yes, Papa,” Mark said. His face spoke his
understanding, both showing fear of what might come and acknowledgement that
whatever it was, he had earned it.
“Come along, your Uncle Darcy wishes to speak
to the others alone.” Mark followed his father out of the room, looking back miserably
at his cousins before shutting the door behind him.
“I do not even know where to begin.” Tom
opened his mouth to offer a suggestion but an upheld hand stopped his tongue.
“Much has been revealed in the past few moments, the severity of which is
difficult to digest. Foolish pranks and invasions of privacy aside, we have
disharmony between brothers, abuse of power, and deception with which to
contend. In the end, the fault must be mine. Somehow, I have failed to instill
a proper morality, and Elizabeth and I will have to do something to account for
this neglect, but Tom: you must understand the severity of your actions! You
are to be the Master of Pemberley someday! Countless people will be dependent
on your good sense and honor. Today I fear you have revealed a character unfit
for such a task.”
“I am sorry, Father,” he said. “For
everything. It was stupid to lead the others in the stunt. I take full
responsibility.”
Mr. Darcy’s eyes spoke his pain. “Now you say
what you ought to have the moment I inquired. How do I know you do not speak
only to appease me? Your first instinct was to evade responsibility for your
actions.”
“I am sorry,
Father,” Tom said again. “It was very wrong to blame George.”
“Yes, it was. Far worse than it would have
been to have tried to put the blame on Mark, who is not in any way beholden to
you. Have you apologized to George?”
Tom promptly
turned to his cousin and extended his hand. “I am sorry, George. Have I your
forgiveness?”
“Yes,” George relented for the second time
that day and shook the proffered hand, though he could see no sincerity in
Tom’s eyes.
“You will both make a full confession and
apology to your Aunt Norris. I imagine she may be in need of a few days of rest
to recover herself. You will offer to assist her while she convalesces with
anything she requires.”
“Yes, sir,” Tom
and George chorused in reply.
“I blush for you, Tom,” he said severely. “Based
upon your recent actions, I feel it incumbent to remind you that you shall
enact no vengeance upon either Edmund, Mark, and most certainly not George for
what has occurred here today.”
“No, sir”.
“We will discuss your punishment further.
Edmund, George, before you leave us, I want to clarify a few matters, that they
need not be further pursued,” he paused thoughtfully. “Nearly twenty years ago,
George’s father did indeed receive a payment from me for the value of the
living at Kympton. He professed the intention of studying the law, which the
funds provided should have easily covered. As you know, he ended up in a
different career, and upon marriage received from me the purchase of an
ensigncy in the Regulars, as a means of supporting his wife and future family.
These dealings have no bearing on the fissure between myself and him, the
reasons for which I trust cannot be found in any ledger. If you have any
further questions on the matter, I invite you to ask them now.”
Edmund and George both shook their head in
reply, while Tom managed to look as if he had never a care for the subject at
all.
“Very good. I trust the topic may now be
permanently closed for discussion. Let me just say your father’s past is not
your own, George. Despite your part in today’s outrage, your subsequent conduct
reflects well on your character. You aunt and I are very happy to have you with
us here at Pemberley.”
“Thank you, Uncle
Darcy.”
“Now go. Tom and
I have much to discuss.”
The boys left the
young heir to his fate, closing the study door behind them.
§§§
Let other pens dwell on guilt and misery! I quit such odious subjects as soon as I can, impatient to restore everybody, not greatly in fault themselves, to tolerable comfort, and to have done with all the rest.
Ten years following these events, Thomas Darcy
attempted to jump an ominous hedge and broke his neck.
Darcy and Elizabeth, though heartbroken by his
death, found solace in the knowledge that he did not suffer and even came to see
the good of it in time. Their other children were constant sources of pride and
their love for them and each other only grew in intensity throughout the years.
Mr. Norton proceeded Tom to the grave before
Edmund was old enough to succeed him. Mrs.
Norton left the rectory and took up possession of the far grander Dower House,
where she discovered ailments of her own to fill the void the loss of her
husband’s gout left in her conversation.
Mr. Carson and Miss Lee, once their services
were no longer required by the Darcys, made a future for themselves together
and had three very well-educated children to show for it.
The Bingleys lived a charmed existence, rarely
touched by loss or grief. Mark studied engineering and invested heavily in the
railroad, his private fortune one day outstripping that of all his other
relations.
Edmund never did take orders but proved a
superior landlord, ensuring the prosperity of Pemberley and all attached to it
for generations to come. He spent his later years developing his love of
painting and joined the Royal Academy, his works regularly featured in the
Summer Exhibition.
The boys never did learn the extent of the
elder Wickham’s betrayal of the Darcy family, though the younger George Wickham
forever called Pemberley home, his bond with the Darcys solidified and the
injuries of the past fully forgotten by the time he was old enough to wed
Maria.
THE END
_________________________
Stop by, read the story, and enter to win! Increase your chances of winning by leaving multiple comments (be sure to include you email address in at least one). At the end of the event (giveaway open through November 7th), I will randomly select two grand winners. Each will receive copies of all five Twisted Austen ebooks, including Young Wickham, plus a set (six each) of these adorable decorative clothes pins, purchased at my local grocery here in Switzerland. Two runners up will receive Young Wickham ebooks. What if you already have all the Twisted Austen books? Enter anyway. We'll work something out. This giveaway is open internationally. Extra entries for social media shares, but you must mention them in your comments for credit. Good luck to all who enter, thank you so much for reading, and have a very happy Halloween!
Tuesday, October 30, 2018
Young Wickham: Part Seven
PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR / PART FIVE / PART SIX
-->
George spent two hours that second day at
Pemberley ensconced in the library, reading through entries made in a much
younger Mr. Thompson’s hand. The next morning he continued the task before
breakfast, attended his first lessons in Mr. Carson’s tutelage, and returned to
the library later that day. This pattern continued on Friday, only interrupted
when Aunt Lizzy insisted the boy accompany her to Lambton for some much needed
new attire. By Saturday, as the family prepared for the arrival of the
Bingleys, Mr. Wilcox reported to Mr. Darcy that Midnight had yet been ridden
only once by her new master. When his nephew presented himself in the breakfast
parlor, Mr. Darcy tasked him with this neglect.
“Is Midnight not
to your liking, George?” he asked.
“Oh no, Uncle Darcy! She is magnificent horse.
I am most grateful for the consideration you showed in selecting her for me.”
Mr. Darcy glanced at his wife in confusion.
“Perhaps you are unaccustomed to having such an animal of your own, but you
will need to take her out more regularly. She requires the exercise, and it is
now your responsibility to see she gets it and benefit from the exertion
yourself. You have no lessons today and our guests will not arrive until later.
Join Tom and Edmund when they go out.”
It was George’s
turn to glance uncertainly down the table, catching Tom’s eye.
“If my cousin
wishes to remain indoors, Edmund can ride Midnight for George today.”
“And what of
Hamlet?” Mr. Darcy questioned.
“Wilcox will see
he gets some exercise.”
“Your generosity on your brother’s behalf notwithstanding,”
Mr. Darcy replied dryly, looking at his eldest with some chagrin, “George must
not shutter himself away in library all day long. A young man needs fresh air
and activity. You will ride today,” he concluded with finality, speaking
directly to George.
“Yes, sir,” came
the somewhat meek reply.
“I understand your enthusiasm for the library,
George,” Mrs. Darcy said. “When I first came to Pemberley, I too could lose
myself in it for hours on end, but that was winter. You will have ample time to
hide away in the months to come.”
“I like reading in the library, too,” Maria
offered, “but there are many more interesting books there than those old
ledgers, Cousin George.”
“Old ledgers?”
Mr. Darcy questioned.
“Edmund brought them to my attention my first
morning here,” George quickly explained. “They reveal much about the workings
of the estate.”
“If you wish to know more of the estate, you
would do better to attend Mr. Thompson in his rounds, a task that he performs
on horseback, incidentally.”
“I should like
that very much, Uncle Darcy.”
“I will arrange
it for next week.”
When the meal concluded and the boys headed
out towards the stables, Tom questioned George on his progress.
“Have you found
anything yet?”
“Well, yes, in fact, I did. There are two entries
listing payments made to my father in 1808. The first was a one thousand pound
legacy stipulated in your grandfather’s will. The second, more interesting
payment was for three thousand pounds.”
“That is a tidy sum
of money. What was that for?” Tom eagerly asked.
“I am more curious to know what happened to
it,” George said with a slight hint of bitterness, “The note said ‘in lieu of
Kympton,’ nothing more.”
“Well! That is something! So my father paid
him the value of the living? He must have decided not to take orders, and I
cannot say that I blame him. T’would be a dull life for such a man. I think he
must have been far better suited to a military career.”
“Perhaps,” George concurred, looking
consciously at Edmund, “but I suspect it would have been a better life for his
family. Besides, my father did not join the militia for several more years,
just before he met my mother. She has told me countless times that when they
were first introduced he did not yet have his uniform. All he required was a
redcoat to become the most dashing man of her acquaintance.”
“I bet he
squandered it gambling and whoring,” Tom replied with some glee.
George had no
reply. He feared his cousin was all too correct.
Soon they arrived at the stables and were met
by Mr. Wilcox. “Is it true that George’s father was intended for the living at
Kympton?” Tom asked with little preamble.
“Aye, and a good thing it was too that Mr.
Darcy refused to give it to ‘em. A worse rector ye’d be hard pressed to find.”
“Father refused him?”
Edmund asked in surprise.
“We were under the impression that my father
rejected the living and was compensated in kind,” George pressed.
“Aye, that he was. But then he turns up here
again, a few years later when the old rector died, pestering Mr. Darcy for what
he gave up all rights to, fair and square,” he shook his head
disapprovingly. “I’m not one to speak
ill of the dead, but he was a bold one, yer father.”
Tom and George exchanged excited glances.
“That must be when they cut ties,” the former commented. “Your father joined
the militia instead and ran away with Aunt Lydia.”
George was taken aback. He had pieced the
story of his parent’s betrothal together well enough, but he would never dare speak
of it so openly.
“I’d told ye before, Master Tom, that the past
is best left to itself. No good will come of ye pryin’ about in what don’t
concern ye.”
“I have said the
same, Mr. Wilcox, to no avail,” Edmund said grimly.
“Ye’d do well to
heed yer brother, Master Tom,” Wilcox said ominously.
Tom laughed off the warning. Once the boys
were on their way he said, “You can have some more time in the library after
tea today, George.”
“But the Bingleys
will be here,” Edmund protested.
“When else is he to do it? Sunday is sure to
be busy with church and all the family here, and Father has made it difficult
for him to sneak off in the mornings. When you ride with Mr. Thompson next
week, George, be sure to press him for information. I bet he knows it all.”
“I am not sure I wish to learn anymore,”
George said reluctantly. “It makes sense that he and Uncle Darcy fought over
the living and explains a great deal of my Father’s grievances.”
“I think there is more to it than that. Such a
mundane squabble they would have overcome years ago. Something kept our families
from contact until after your father’s death. You must want to know what it
was!” Tom insisted. “How could you not? It is your birthright!”
George shook his head. “I did want to know, when I was worried that Uncle Darcy would never
accept me, but now that he seems to have taken a liking to me, it seems wrong
to pry. Besides, he has proven himself an exceedingly thoughtful and honorable
man in my few days here.” He shook his head sadly. “I do not wish to know all
the tawdry details of my father’s indiscretions.”
Edmund nodded. “Some
information we are better off without.”
“So you are both content to let sleeping dogs
lie,” Tom said grimly, surveying his two companions. “Well, so be it, then. Know
that I think you both chicken-hearted.”
George felt the injustice of Tom’s words but yet
was reluctant to stand up for himself against the domineering heir, even as his
cousin’s brittle temperament cast a dark shadow on otherwise rosy prospects.
Holding his tongue, he tried to forget his hurt in observation of the
landscape, but before this salve had a chance to absorb Tom resumed his
censure.
“I understand why you are afraid of what you
might learn, George” he taunted. “Certainly you hoped your father was innocent
all along and not the dastard we all know him to have been.”
“Badly done,
Tom!” Edmund cried in outrage.
He shrugged. “I only speak the truth. Who
would not wish to redeem their father’s sullied reputation, no matter how well
deserved?”
“No matter the sins of my father,” George
spoke in a terse, controlled voice, “they do not give you leave to besmirch his
memory so. I shall have your apology.”
“Will you now?”
Tom sneered. “And if I refuse, what will you do? Challenge me?”
The suddenly belligerent look in George’s eye
suggested it was exactly that course of action he had in mind.
“Tom,” Edmund
intervened, “apologize to my cousin. You must.”
“Very well,” Tom relented, adopting an
affected manner and bowing dramatically. “I am sorry if Mr. Wickham’s honor was
offended. Do accept my humble apology and be assured I shall never so trespass
again.”
“Do be serious,”
Edmund chided.
“I am serious!”
Tom exclaimed. “Do you accept my apology, Cousin?”
George paused
before conceding. “Yes.”
“There you have it! Everyone is satisfied,”
and Tom turned the subject to what fun they would have once the Bingleys
arrived.
§§§
All the family living at Pemberley and Mrs.
Norton gathered on the steps of the house to greet the guests. Mrs. Darcy
presented George to Mrs. Bingley with pride, and she quickly took the boy into
her warm embrace, exclaiming on what she insisted was his uncanny resemblance
to Lydia. Mr. Bingley shook his friend’s hand before likewise embracing George,
asking about his horse, and generally endearing himself into the boy’s heart.
Nearby a seemingly endless stream of Bingley cousins poured out of the three
carriages required to transport them all. Tom, delighting in his reunion with
Mark, was in great humor, and conducted George through the mass, making
introductions with aplomb. A host of attendants soon had the unwieldy crew
bustled indoors, and with remarkable efficiency attended to all the various
needs and wants of the travelers. George was in awe of their skill, wondering
if the assistance Mr. Darcy was sending to his mother would be equally
competent. It would mean a vast improvement in the comfort of her household.
The eldest Bingley, Charles, and his next
sister, Fanny, were content to sit and take tea with the adults, but all the
rest of the youngsters except the very smallest, who had been dispatched to the
nursery, were soon again outdoors. Games were organized, and George found
himself a valued member of his new social group, proving his skill in both
hiding, seeking, and cracking the whip. After having exhausted himself in such
pursuits, George retreated from the others to lean against a nearby oak and rest.
As his breathing quieted, he became aware of his name being called in a whisper
from a nearby shrubbery. Following the sound, he found Tom and Mark hiding
behind the foliage.
“Come with us, George!” Tom said. “Aunt Norton
just left for Kympton on foot. Mama always offers her the use of a carriage,
but she always declines even as she complains about the distance all the
while.”
“’I think nothing of the inconvenience to
myself,’” Mark mimicked in a high falsetto nothing like their aunt’s voice but
no less hilarious to the three boys for its lack of resemblance.
“I am going to give her a fright that will
make her think twice about walking alone from now on and spare us all her
griping.”
“What do you plan
to do?” George asked, and Tom held up a sling shot in response.
“I won’t hurt her. My aim is excellent. It
will just unnerve her a bit. You have not yet seen my aunt in high hysterics.
It is excellent sport,” Tom said as Mark nodded his concurrence.
“Let us go now before anyone sees us,” he
said, leading the way off into the woods. Tom grabbed George by the wrist and
pulled him along before he could register any further objection.
The boys forged a trail through the trees in
order to cut off the path to Kympton. Soon after they concealed themselves
behind a convenient boulder, they perceived the sounds of Mrs. Norton’s
approach.
Tom rose from his concealment and took aim,
firing his shot just in front of Aunt Norton’s nose and missing her by only a
hair. The pebble ricocheted off a nearby tree with a loud bang and the lady
screamed, promptly turning on her heels and fleeing back in the direction she
came, tripping over her skirts as she went. Tom and Mark smothered their laughter
as she ran, but George could find no amusement in the sight. She might have
been severely injured, even killed, but when pressed by the others, he forced a
smile. Tom and Mark were anxious to return to Pemberley and witness the fallout
from their prank. George followed them, a sense of foreboding descending upon
him with each step.
At Pemberley they found the house in uproar
and the air pungent with the scent of the burnt feathers that Mrs. Bingley
waved beneath Mrs. Norton’s nose, who was swooning upon an ornamental chair
near the entryway. All the children were gathered around, eagerly ignoring the
minders who futilely sought to remove them from the scene. A great deal of the
staff had also assembled. Only Edmund saw the three stragglers enter. He
approach them and said to Tom in an harsh whisper, “Where were you?”
-->
His brother evaded replying as Mrs. Reynolds arrived
and began ordering her underlings to either assist Mrs. Bingley, go fetch a
doctor, or return to their duties. Soon Mrs. Norton was being lifted by a
footman and carried into the drawing room, followed by a parade of her many
nieces and nephews, all of whom suddenly found their dull aunt irresistibly
fascinating.
_________________________
Come back tomorrow to read Part Eight!
Stop by, read the story, and enter to win! Increase your chances of winning by leaving multiple comments (be sure to include you email address in at least one). At the end of the event (giveaway open through November 7th), I will randomly select two grand winners. Each will receive copies of all five Twisted Austen ebooks, including Young Wickham, plus a set (six each) of these adorable decorative clothes pins, purchased at my local grocery here in Switzerland. Two runners up will receive Young Wickham ebooks. What if you already have all the Twisted Austen books? Enter anyway. We'll work something out. This giveaway is open internationally. Extra entries for social media shares, but you must mention them in your comments for credit. Good luck to all who enter, thank you so much for reading, and have a very happy Halloween!