A Proposal Scene by Jack Caldwell #1

Greetings, everyone. Jack Caldwell here.

This month, our theme is “Will You?” That’s right, it’s a month full of proposals, the good, the bad, and the ugly! Most will probably melt your pudding, but you might just see a stinker in the bouquet. We all need to laugh, right?

Okay, I didn’t write the above. But I have written several proposals in my many novels. I couldn’t pick just one, so I’m sharing my favorites with you over the next three weeks. I’m generous that way. We have to do something or we’ll go insane.

Strangely enough, my best proposals tend to be funny. That’s the way I roll. So, let’s start with a memorable one from THE THREE COLONELS: Jane Austen’s Fighting Men.

From THE THREE COLONELS —

(To set the scene, Colonel Sir Richard Fitzwilliam, recently awarded the Bath, has just returned from France after the Battle of Waterloo and is reunited with his beloved Anne de Bourgh at the Darcy townhouse in London.)

Sir Richard and Anne finally entered the sitting room, walking in hand in hand. Elizabeth, Marianne, and Georgiana embraced the couple with cries of delight. It was some time before the pair could sit down upon a sofa.

“If you do not mind, Darcy,” Sir Richard said, “I think there will be a change of plans.”

“I thought there might. Kent or Derbyshire?”

“Rosings first—Lady Catherine deserves at least that.” Sir Richard then grinned. “Besides, I need to survey my new properties now that harvest time grows near.”

“Do you think you will enjoy farming, sir?” asked Denny.

He gave the younger man a stern look. “Denny, we are comrades now. You may call me…” he hesitated, and then with dramatic importance, “Sir Richard.”

A pause—then Fitzwilliam dissolved into laughter.

“Denny, if you call that fool anything but Fitz, I will personally cuff you,” demanded an amused Colonel Brandon.

After a poke from Anne, Sir Richard stopped laughing. “I think I will like it well enough, Denny. I know I will fancy the accommodations.”  He started chuckling again when he noted that Anne was not amused. “What is it, my dear?” She simply gave him an arch look. “What?”

“Oh, do not be cross, cousin,” cried Georgiana. “Tell us of Richard’s proposal!”

“You have hit upon the heart of the matter, Georgiana,” Anne responded. “There has been no proposal!”

“What? Then how are you engaged?”

“You had a hand in that.” Anne said with a look.

“Oh, the letters!” Georgiana blushed, while Denny simply looked confused.

Anne nodded in confirmation. “Yes, we have compromised ourselves! We wrote to each other, Colonel Denny, and there is nothing for it but to marry! Which is all fine and good, but it would be nice to actually receive a proposal,” she turned to her intended, “especially as Colonel Sir Richard Fitzwilliam acts as if Rosings Park is his already!” She gave Richard a de Bourgh glare.

Sir Richard looked thoughtfully at Anne for a moment, and then away. “Hmm, we cannot have that.”  He began to stand.

“Richard?” Anne was afraid that her teasing had gone too far and she had offended her beloved.

But abruptly, Sir Richard threw himself at her feet. On one knee, with one hand on his breast and the other raised to the heavens, he declared: “Sweetest, loveliest Anne! You are the light of my life, the song in my soul, the starch in my stockings—”

“The starch in your stockings?”

“Quiet, woman, you are ruining the moment. Where was I? Ah yes, I cannot live without you! Would you—could you—might you—consider taking pity on this poor fool? I offer all that I have—an old warhorse and a slightly used sabre. What treasure! All I own and my heart. Say yes and make me the happiest man in the world! Turn me down and call for the undertaker the next instant, for I shall surely die of a broken heart. My fate is in your hands, my lady.” 

He lowered his face into his hands for a moment before peeking up at her. He beheld a smirking Anne, trying not to giggle. He could not see the various looks of his audience, ranging from delight to amusement to astonishment. “Marry me, Annie?”

She smiled sweetly. “Of course! Before you inflect yourself on some other unfortunate lady.”

Sir Richard sweetly kissed each of Anne’s hands before retaking his seat next to her. “How was that, Georgiana?”

His cousin just shook her head as the others exploded into laughter.

See you next Tuesday.

Until next time, this has been the Cajun Cheesehead Chronicles.

It takes a real man to write historical romance, so let me tell you a story…