An Announcement and an Excerpt from An Endeavour to be Worthy

If you have yet to hear the buzz, Deborah Balm has agreed to narrate An Endeavour to be Worthy! I am excited and hope to have that released by the end of February or the beginning of March depending upon ACX’s turnover time for reviewing the files, so look out for the release post.

In the meantime, I have an excerpt to offer. I hope you enjoy!

Elizabeth stood as Mr. Darcy, his sister, and Colonel Fitzwilliam were announced. Since the conversation with Nicholas, she had managed to avoid the topic of Mr. Darcy with her family, though truth be told, they had not mentioned him as much as she would have expected after Lady Vranes’s exhibition, which had been a tremendous relief. Though how to account for Nicholas’s lack of teasing? Since he was a boy, he lived to find humour in not just the absurd, but in hers and Amelia’s follies. Why was he not enjoying himself immensely at her expense? The silence on his part was disquieting as was his ardent defence of Mr. Darcy.

When Mr. Darcy and his party entered, all present greeted one another as was the custom before her grandfather strode forward and clapped Mr. Darcy on the shoulder and shook his hand. “Darcy, I am pleased you could come. Fitzwilliam, you are quite welcome.” He repeated the gesture with the colonel, then kissed Miss Darcy’s hand. “My, you have certainly grown since we were last in company, my dear. You resemble your mother so much I would require a second look should I see you across the room.

“Georgiana, Colonel, you know Nicholas and Amelia, but allow me to introduce my granddaughters, Miss Jane Montford and Miss Elizabeth Montford. They have come to live with us and are to remain through the Season.” He stepped beside Jane. “Girls, Colonel Fitzwilliam is Mr. Darcy’s cousin, and Georgiana is, of course, his younger sister.”

Grandmamma took Miss Darcy’s hand and brought the girl to sit beside her. “Pray, come be seated.”

“If you will give me one moment,” said Mr. Darcy, disappearing through the door, then reappearing a moment later with flowers in his hands. “I took the liberty of bringing you each a small bouquet.” He handed a nosegay of roses to Grandmamma, whose cheeks pinked and gushed a thank you, then to Amelia and Jane. When he finally stood in front of Elizabeth with the last cluster of roses, her heart beat so hard and fast. Why? It was no more than flowers. Why should that cause such a flutter? Good heavens, what if she fainted?

She looked down to the flowers before her. Each nosegay was different, whether the colour or the appearance of the rose. Where had he found such variety in December? “Miss Elizabeth, I am certain you are partial to wildflowers, but I hope you enjoy roses as well.”

She wrapped her hand tightly around the ribbon covered stems. “They are stunning. Thank you.” Her voice so soft. Why was that?

He stepped over to sit near Nicholas and her grandfather while she continued to stare at the roses. He brought her flowers—Mr. Darcy had brought them all flowers.

“Lizzybeth?” Her head popped up at her grandmother’s voice. “Georgiana has expressed a desire to get to know you. Would you come sit with us?”

Somehow, she managed to nod and sat on the sofa beside Miss Darcy, her grandmother on the young lady’s opposite side. “I am happy to make your acquaintance, Miss Darcy.” She glanced over at Jane’s nosegay.

“Miss Elizabeth?”

Her head whipped around to Miss Darcy’s raised eyebrows. “Forgive me. I was wool-gathering. I was curious of the roses since some of ours are different colours.”

Grandmamma held hers forward. “Some are different varieties of roses, not just colours. Mine are pink, which can mean the beginning of a relationship, but I believe here means grace, sophistication, and elegance since they are also China roses, which represent grace or lasting beauty.

“Jane’s are burgundy, which means simplicity and beauty, and are Damask roses, which stand for purity. He selected the same for Amelia.

“Now, yours—”

“Are pink,” said Miss Darcy with a grin. “As your grandmother mentioned, pink can mean grace, sophistication, and elegance as well as the beginning of a relationship, but they are also Provence roses…” The girl’s cheeks reddened, and she stopped. Why? She had not said what a Provence rose meant. Now, she had to know.

“I do not understand. I know a little of the language of flowers, but I never knew roses could have meanings for colour as well as variety.”

Her grandmother leaned behind Miss Darcy. “Provence roses mean my heart is in flames.” She spoke in hushed tones.

Oh, my. Her own cheeks were in flames. The bouquet could not possibly mean what her grandmother said. It was a coincidence. Surely, a coincidence. That or her grandmother was mistaken.

“Fitzwilliam and I selected the roses ourselves in the hothouse. I hope you like them.”

Her stomach plummeted at Miss Darcy’s weak tone. “Yes, they are lovely, but your brother would never mean…his heart could not possibly…” This was the end. She would die of mortification right where she sat.

“Lizzybeth,” said her grandmother, “breathe.”

A maid stood before her. “I can put those in water for you, miss, and Tate will put them in your bedchamber.”

“Thank you.” She released the small bouquet, though her gaze followed them until they disappeared through the door.

“Miss Elizabeth, I hope my brother did not shock you with his nosegay. He mentioned what occurred the evening he made your acquaintance, and I know he regrets what he said, though I am certain he wishes to apologise to you himself.” The poor dear spoke with hesitance and could barely meet Elizabeth’s eye. Miss Darcy was shy? Had not Wickham made the claim of her being proud like her brother?

“Perhaps we should have selected a different variety. Fitzwilliam feared being too bold,” said Miss Darcy in a soft tone near her ear. “Forgive me. I convinced him to choose the Provence roses.” She had almost shrunk into the settee and stared at her hands.

“Do not trouble yourself, Miss Darcy. The roses are beautiful, and I thank you for the thought you put into them. I assure you, the time and effort makes them a welcome gift.” The girl relaxed and a smile began to spread upon her face.

“Dinner is served.”

Upon the call for dinner, her grandmother stood and took her husband’s arm while Colonel Fitzwilliam approached with a wide smile and a deep bow. “Miss Montford, Georgiana, would you do me the honour?”

When she was the sole person left on the sofa, Mr. Darcy stepped before her. “Miss Elizabeth, would you do me the honour?” She took a deep inhale. Her courage rose with any attempt to intimidate her. While Mr. Darcy had likely not intended to intimidate her, she would treat it with the same manner. She would not let it intimidate her.