Hello, Readers! I am delighted to share my new release, The Guardian Gambit, a mash-up of Pride & Prejudice + Emma that is inspired by The Parent Trap – it’s a wild ride!
The story begins with Elizabeth Bennet and Jane Fairfax discovering they are identical twins when they meet for the first time just before their 21st birthday. With the encouragement of their intrigue-loving aunt – Mr. Gardiner’s widow, now known as Lady Gresham – the twins exchange places and scheme to reunite their parents, Elizabeth’s “guardian” Mr. Bennet and Jane’s “aunt” Miss Bates.
Jane travels to Netherfield, home of the much
wealthier Mr. Bennet, and is ready to bond with her father while pretending to
be Elizabeth – only to face a terrible shock when she finds him engaged to a
fortune hunter!
Meanwhile, Elizabeth masquerades as Jane when she goes
to stay with her mother and Grandmother at the Bates cottage. She also faces an
unpleasant surprise – Highbury’s newest neighbor has brought a very rude and
brooding friend with him, and he instantly suspects that Elizabeth is up to no
good!
The excerpt I’m sharing today is Mr. Darcy’s first impression of Elizabeth – when he believes her to be Jane Fairfax….
Fitzwilliam Darcy had never been so uncomfortable in
all his life. The presence of so many squawking, frolicking children was not
something he had ever been accustomed to, and at present they were as much a
reminder of his sister’s recent ordeal as all this talk of seaside holidays.
Sending his sister to Ramsgate the previous summer had been the greatest
mistake of his life, and nearly a year later Georgiana still felt the
consequences of her time in Ramsgate, and her tryst with their erstwhile friend
Mr. Wickham.
Amidst the noise of the Knightley children and the
chatter of so many people all clustered together taking tea, Darcy felt himself
utterly adrift. He had come to Surrey to clear his head after failing to
reconcile with his sister, but he could hardly keep a clear head with so many
new acquaintance thrust on him at once.
At present, Bingley was little help. The man had been
in a panic when Knightley suggested they accompany him on a visit to Hartfield,
for Miss Woodhouse had just the day before declined an invitation from him. Of
course, this was the price to be paid for their reprieve from Caroline Bingley
– there was no hostess in residence to make an afternoon tea respectable.
Bingley had forfeited that convenience for Darcy’s sake, though her presence
would not have been comfortable for anybody, not after Darcy had recently
reached the end of his patience with Caroline Bingley and informed her that he
had no intention of ever making her an offer.
Though Knightley had assured them of the Woodhouses
being excellent people, Miss Woodhouse did not receive Mr. Bingley with any
particular interest. As usual, she took a good look at each of them before
selecting Darcy as her object, and far from being daunted by his lack of
encouragement, she was spurred on by Bingley’s easy enthusiasm for Miss
Fairfax.
Her circumstances were not as suitable as Miss
Woodhouse’s, and the though two were both fair and pretty, Miss Fairfax
possessed a glint of intelligence in her eye, and something thrilling in her
air, as if she had just lately blossomed. Even Knightley, who had known the
young lady all her life, seemed to be regarding her as if seeing her for the
first time.
Darcy was fascinated as he watched Miss Fairfax speak
with his friend. She was holding her own with Bingley, who could often render
it impossible to get a word in when he grew excited about a subject. Miss
Fairfax had a great deal to say, but she seemed inexplicably prone to abruptly
falling silent, as if wishing to give an impression of diffidence she did not
possess.
Knightley was obliged to bear a great deal of
conversation from Miss Fairfax’s aunt, who supplied such a steady stream of
unrelated observations that Knightley could scarcely reply to one before being
assaulted with three more. Miss Bates did have a sincere and pleasing affection
for her niece and her mother, and while the latter remained silent, she often
called upon the former to agree with her. Miss Fairfax merely ignored her aunt
at every turn.
To Darcy’s dismay, Miss Woodhouse only ceased her
attempts to fascinate him in order to have her share of the conversation about
Weymouth, and even Miss Bates had a great deal to say on the subject. Darcy
would rather have heard more about dancing at Mr. Weston’s party than the
seaside, so dismal was the subject to him, but he was granted no
reprieve.
Once again, Miss Bates was obliged to repeat Miss
Fairfax’s name several times before gaining the young lady’s attention. “Jane.
Jane! JANE, DEAREST!”
Miss Fairfax seemed to rouse herself from her
enigmatic private reverie, and she turned to lay a hand on her aunt’s arm.
“Yes, m-ma’am?”
“I was telling Miss Woodhouse how strange it is that
you should encounter Mr. Frank Churchill in Weymouth.”
“I travel often enough with the Campbells that I am
sure to have one or two coincidental encounters some place or other,” Miss
Fairfax replied. She smiled brightly, but in her eyes there was a glimpse of
discomfiture.
“Very true, my dear, very true, though it ought to
have been far likelier you would encounter him here in Highbury, since you both
have some connection to the place. But I suppose it is hardly the most shocking
thing you told me of your time in Weymouth.”
Miss Woodhouse looked at Miss Fairfax with interest.
“Miss Fairfax, how obliging of you to have so many shocking things to
regale us with, when generally the details of your travels are all so very
regular. But I should like to hear anything you might tell me of Mr. Frank
Churchill, especially if it is shocking!”
Miss Fairfax scowled, but had not the chance to reply
before her aunt was talking again. “Oh, but I refer to the incident with Mr.
Dixon.”
Miss Woodhouse grinned wolfishly. “An incident,
you say? Better and better!”
“Not quite,” Miss Fairfax drawled.
“Oh! I am sure I cried out and frightened the wits out
of poor Mother when I read of it,” Miss Bates wailed. “I shall never go near
the sea without horror – not that I ever had any intention of going to the
seaside – but certainly I should never wish to be on a boat!”
Miss Fairfax gave a tight smile before putting Darcy
out of his misery by interrupting her aunt. “As pleasant as it is to entertain
you, Miss Woodhouse, I should rather achieve that distinction without such
great peril. But as the peril is quite in the past, I may as well inform you of
my tremendous dismay at being swept overboard during a boating excursion. Mr.
Dixon acted with alacrity….”
Darcy sat up straighter, leaning his head toward the
comely young lady as he found his interest piqued at last. Miss Fairfax looked
as if she had quite a tale to tell, but her aunt cut her off. “But was it not
your friend that was swept overboard? I have not the letter with me, but I am
sure you wrote that it was some friend of yours – I cannot recall her name, or
perhaps you did not say – no indeed – pray, do not say it was yourself nearly
lost to sea, else I am sure I shall never recover!”
Miss Fairfax furrowed her brow for a moment, her mouth
hanging agape and forming a rather charming O, and then she again rested a hand
on her aunt’s arm to silence the babbling spinster. “Yes, that is what I meant
– my dismay at my friend being swept overboard.”
Darcy might have doubted that sense of panic he
perceived in Miss Fairfax’s demeanor, but Miss Woodhouse must have noticed it,
as well. She leaned forward with interest. “What friend?”
Miss Fairfax looked over at her aunt with wide eyes.
“Oh, ah… Fanny….”
Miss Bates fairly squawked in astonishment. “Have you
a friend with my name? How very odd!”
“No – ah – Fran – Franny. Yes, Franny – yes, I am sure
I have mentioned her,” Miss Fairfax said with a nervous laugh before silently
muttering what appeared to Darcy to be a few very vulgar words under her breath
as she attempted to regain her equanimity. She stared, red-faced, down at the
carpet, her hands disappearing into the folds of her gown. “Franny was swept
overboard, but Mr. Dixon very bravely rescued her. That is all, really, but I
had quite a fright.”
Darcy had always prided himself on his superior
discernment, and presently he discerned two things with absolute certainty. The
first was that Miss Fairfax was telling only a half-truth, and the second was
that she was not at all a well-practiced liar.
Darcy resolved to be on his guard, and certainly he
ought to advise his friend against favoring Miss Fairfax over Miss Woodhouse.
The latter may prove a snob toward Bingley’s origins, but she may yet be won
over by his manners. Miss Fairfax, on the other hand, would not have been a
good connection even if she had not a strange air of deceit about her. She did
not fawn over Bingley as other fortune hunters were wont to do, but perhaps it
was some manner of art and allurement designed to engage him in chasing her.
Bingley was a good man, but just fool enough for such mercenary
practices.
It was for this reason alone, Darcy told himself, that
he watched Miss Fairfax closely for the duration of the visit. He could not
deny that it was far from a punishment to look at her, but her beauty only
presented a greater danger.
Darcy decided it best to warn his friend at once, as
they walked back to Bingley’s nameless manor. They had stayed far longer than
intended, certainly longer than was polite, and Darcy suspected they had rather
strained the patience of their hostess.
Bingley’s praise of everyone they had met soon focused
on Miss Fairfax in particular, and he listed her manifold attractions,
betraying his own superficial whimsy, just as he had half a dozen times before.
His newest angel had even put forth a suggestion that Bingley draw a name for
his manor from poetry, and now the besotted fool was determined to call on
Knightley on the morrow and scour the man’s superior library for
inspiration.
“What do you know of Miss Fairfax’s circumstances,
Bingley? Knightley gave me the distinct impression that Miss Woodhouse is the
superior creature between the two young ladies.”
“That is only because he has seen more of Miss
Woodhouse, I should imagine. Miss Fairfax travels a great deal, which I think
is very intrepid of her. I ought to travel more, you know; I have heaps of
money.”
Darcy raised his brow at the notion of Bingley
traipsing about the continent, leaving a trail of brokenhearted blonde angels
in his wake. “Miss Woodhouse is the sort of young lady your sisters may approve
of,” Darcy said, and then immediately winced. This was hardly a sterling
recommendation.
Bingley laughed. “She is richer than Miss Fairfax, if
that is what you mean. Oh, she is not unpleasant, by any means. I have forgiven
her for refusing to come to tea, since Knightley thinks I ought to have a
chaperone. Perhaps he is right – I could ask Louisa, and surely with Caroline
now engaged, you would be perfectly safe from… any awkwardness.”
Awkwardness followed Darcy more faithfully than his
own shadow. He shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. “I cannot deny there
would be some expedience in having one of your sisters to keep house for you,
if you wish to throw parties and dinners and the like. I only wish to advise
you not to immediately single one young lady out above the others. We know very
little of Miss Fairfax and her family.”
“I know that she is an orphan – not like you and I,
for her parents died when she was a baby, how utterly tragic! But she travels a
great deal with a family called the Campbells, who sounds perfectly
respectable. And she is incomparably dutiful to her relations, for Miss
Woodhouse was astonished that Miss Fairfax had come to visit Highbury when she
might have gone to Ireland with her friends. That must signify an excellent
character and fine morals, for I know I should choose Ireland over my
relations! Ha! A hundred times over, I swear it!”
Darcy considered this, but it only heightened the
strange surety he felt that the young lady had something to hide.
“Besides,” Bingley cajoled him, “I am sure Knightley’s
praise of Miss Woodhouse was so generous that he must be in love with her
himself, and I could hardly compete with a man who possesses such a superior
library.”
Darcy only shook his head as Bingley gave in to wild
hilarity. When Bingley finished laughing, he said, “Darcy, I shall be serious
soon, I promise, but I wish you would not always be so. Someday, my friend, a
pretty girl will catch your eye, and then I imagine all hell shall break
loose.”
“Certainly not,” Darcy said at once. He had never
given much thought to marriage, but he supposed that he would eventually select
a suitable young lady of good breeding, tolerable appearance, and considerable
accomplishment, who would give him an heir and a spare and, hopefully, a
peaceful home life. But happiness in marriage, he knew all too well, was
entirely a matter of chance. He would no more rush into such a risky endeavor
than he would allow his friend to do so. Hell, he hoped, would not factor into
their futures, as it had for his parents.
“Well, if you have no further objections to Miss
Fairfax than the newness of our acquaintance, and I have not completely decided
against Miss Woodhouse, then I suppose I shall have to write to my sisters,”
Bingley said. “Caroline has not yet set a date for her wedding, so perhaps she
can spare Louisa for a few weeks.”
Darcy was uneasy, but he acknowledged that it was a
necessary evil. He might yet hope that only the Hursts would be summoned, and
not Miss Bingley. He would not be easy around the harpy until she was actually
another man's wife, and even then he might remain wary. It was fortunate, at
least, that her betrothed was reputed to despise London; she would be kept in
the country, unable to pester Darcy with her desperation.
“I suppose it is the only option,” Darcy said. But he certainly had no wish for his friend to be filling the manor with guests, especially not a particular guest with a beguiling smile and a musical laugh, whose blue eyes were full of secrets.
JAYNE BAMBER
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