An excerpt from Heart Enough

Its been so exciting to see so many wonderful holiday tales coming out this year. I am never one for the scary stuff, and I love American Thanksgiving and the December holidays so I welcome November with open arms! So to kick things off, here is an excerpt from my recently released holiday novella Heart Enough for you… hope you enjoy! Its available at amazon in kindle and KU or as part of the ‘Tis the Season paperback!

https://geni.us/HeartEnough

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It was an exceedingly wintry day for what was in truth late autumn, and Elizabeth shivered as soon as the carriage door was opened. She was first to step out and was pleased beyond anything that Mr Darcy came to help her down. “I thank you,” she murmured, peeping up at him from around the edge of her bonnet, but his attention had already turned to her mother. 

When everyone was out of the carriage, he said, with perfect composure and civility, “Ladies, you are all looking quite lovely. Miss Bennet, my friend is an exceptionally fortunate man.” 

Mrs Bennet twittered and blushed while Jane and Elizabeth thanked him, and Elizabeth noted, with no little discomfort, that he was careful not to meet her eye. But the time for being demure had long since passed, and she needed to be the coquette, at least a little. “Mr Darcy?” 

He appeared startled to be addressed so directly by her, and she smiled, eager to put him at ease, perhaps even tease a little. “You did not join us last night for dinner.” 

“Forgive me, no. I was late in leaving town and arrived just as the party was ended.” He smiled genially, looking for all the world like he had missed nothing of consequence to him. 

Elizabeth pressed on. “How did you leave Miss Darcy? I do hope she is well?”

“She remains at Pemberley until Christmas,” he replied. “But in her last letter, she urged me to give you her regards.” 

Elizabeth murmured her appreciation, but there was not time for more. They had by then entered the church, and the moment had arrived to witness those dear to them binding their lives to one another. 

It was as perfect as any wedding could be. Jane was blushing and lovely, and Bingley was nearly bursting with pride and delight. When they gazed at each other, the love between them was almost too much; such tenderness of feeling was to be envied, and Elizabeth did envy them both. 

While Jane stood basking in the worshipful gaze of her beloved, Elizabeth grew increasingly anxious, yearning for a look, a secret smile, or anything of the sort from Mr Darcy. She received none. 

Throughout the ceremony, Mr Darcy stood in an upright posture, his countenance calm, complaisant, and wholly unreadable. No one who saw him could ever imagine that he had once uttered words of love to her, or the substance of the arguments between them. Maybe he could no longer imagine them himself. 

Never before had she understood better Jane’s admonitions on the cruelty of civility. Elizabeth would have preferred he be angry, or hateful to her, or even showed her cold disdain, because this tepid amiability was the absolute worst treatment she could ever imagine. It hurt to feel his newfound congenial manner towards her.

Elizabeth had duties to attend to at Jane’s wedding breakfast. Jane travelled the mile to Longbourn in her husband’s carriage—a mile that appeared to require an unduly long time to peregrinate—while Elizabeth, along with the rest of the Bennets, returned in the family landau to see that the servants had everything as it ought to have been. Naturally they had, and so she was left to amble about, fretting about seeing him again. 

At length, Jane and Bingley arrived to many cheers and well wishes. Longbourn had never been so full; despite the chill of the day, people spilled out into the garden, seeking refuge from the moist heat of those packed into the drawing rooms. It was not a surprise; everyone liked both husband and wife and was eager to see them established as one of the principal families of the district. 

“Do you need me for anything?” Elizabeth asked when at last she was able to press through the crowd and reach her sister’s side. 

Jane could scarcely take her eyes from Bingley long enough to shake her head. Elizabeth smiled fondly at her and then reached up to her sister’s hair, tucking in a particularly damning tress that had fallen. Then she asked her new brother, “Shall I fix you a drink, sir? Something to eat?” 

“Eat?” Bingley asked dreamily, as if he had no idea what she was talking about.

“A glass of wine? Shall I get you one?” 

“No, thank you, I am…” His attention and his footsteps drifted away from Elizabeth simultaneously. Elizabeth shook her head fondly at the pair of them. 

Very well. I have done as I ought, and now am free to tend to my own concerns. 

Gathering her courage, she set forth to find him and speak to him. He was not in the room where she was, and so she went room to room, finding him in the small back parlour which was less populated than the others but still full. Elizabeth had recalled his fondness for coffee—he drank it in copious amounts at nearly every gathering she had ever attended with him—and so had brought with her a cup for him. She hoped she had fixed it as he liked, with just a little milk and one heaping spoon of sugar.

He was facing the window and did not turn when she approached. “Sir?”

The sound of her voice made him jerk and whirl about. Instinct made him recover quickly into a truncated bow that almost struck her arm, stretched as it was to offer him coffee. She yanked her arm back at the last moment, and some of the coffee splashed over the edge. 

“Excuse me,” he said stiffly. “I did not mean to—” 

“No, no, I…you did not have any coffee,” Elizabeth explained, her discomfort amplified by his obvious dismay. “I thought you might like—”

“I stopped drinking it,” he replied abruptly. “It gives me headaches.” 

“Oh…well.” Elizabeth looked down at the foolish cup and then had no idea what to do with it. They were standing by the window with nowhere to dispose of it, amid this stupid attempt at rapprochement. Wishing it gone, she decided she would drink it herself, though she despised coffee. “More for me, then,” she said with a brave smile. 

She took a generous gulp that scalded her tongue and made her gasp. For a terrible moment, she thought she might choke, but she pushed it down, feeling all the dreadful consciousness of his steady gaze upon her. 

The incident rendered her unable to speak for several long moments; in the face of it, Mr Darcy was induced to speak. “I hope your sister is satisfied with the day?”

Elizabeth was still left with the urge to cough, but she determinedly denied it, grinning madly in an attempt to appear easy. “As she is ending it as Mrs Bingley, I daresay her chief sources of delight have not failed her.” 

He chuckled. “Bingley is likewise pleased, I am sure.” 

The strained silence came again between them. From the other room, Elizabeth heard a loud conversation, her mother’s voice rising above the din. Mrs Bennet was holding forth on having such wonderful sons-in-law as Bingley and Wickham, and Elizabeth winced. Hoping to distract him from any possible overhearings, she enquired, “Will you be remaining at Netherfield for long?” 

“Alas, I must return to town today. I shall likely leave fairly soon.” 

Elizabeth thought it a great feat of self-control that she did not exclaim her dismay aloud. “You must take a bit of wedding cake with you for Miss Darcy, then,” she said. “A young lady likes to put it under her pillow, to dream of her husband.” 

“She undoubtedly would like that very much, but alas, she will have to do without it. As I had said previously, she is—”

“At Pemberley. Forgive me, yes, you did say so. I forgot.” 

“No matter,” he said. “In any case, she will not be in town until a day or so after Christmas, when my aunt and uncle bring her.” 

In this, Elizabeth saw her opportunity. Forming her resolution, she sallied forth. “Then surely you must stay! To be alone at Christmas is a dreadful thing! Bingley and my sister would surely be pleased to have you at Netherfield and then you could join us all at Sir William Lucas’s party. He holds it every year to celebrate the Festive Season, and there are punch and sweetmeats and dancing, of course, and Sir William likes to go about holding a bough with mistletoe over—”

Mr Darcy glanced away and shifted on his feet, and his clear discomfort made Elizabeth realise how brazen she was. What must he think of me, carrying on in such a way? Inviting him to Bingley’s house? Mistletoe? Good heavens, what have I become? 

“What I mean to say,” Elizabeth said with an embarrassed half-laugh, “is that I am certain your friend would enjoy the opportunity to host you and have you join with him in the festivities of the season. They are simple pleasures but decidedly better than being alone?”

“In fact, I shall not be alone.” Mr Darcy’s gaze was now fixed on his own feet. “My aunt, Lady Catherine, and my cousin will join me.” 

“Forgive me,” Elizabeth gabbled wildly—and too loudly. “Such presumptions! You will have a splendid time with them, I am sure. Please accept my well wishes for the season and the new year and extend the same to her ladyship and Miss de Bourgh.” 

He raised his eyes then, and Elizabeth was struck by what appeared to be remorse within them. Remorse? Regret? Whatever it was, she could not comprehend it and more than anything wanted to flee it. Thus, she excused herself and turned back, hastening out of the room, the coffee swashing and spilling over her hand as she moved with quick paces across the room and down the hall, nearly collapsing with relief when she saw Jane beckoning her. 

“Lizzy,” she said, her blue eyes urgent. “Lizzy, come with me.” 

With a demure smile to those around her, Jane glided from the room, bestowing one final angelic smile on her new husband before they left. Elizabeth followed her towards the back stair, setting the coffee cup down on the way. 

Jane was walking with uncommon rapidity, and Elizabeth matched her pace, the two ladies hastening up the stairs and into a bedchamber. Jane carefully closed the door behind them before turning and reaching to take her sister’s hands in her grasp. “Charles just told me something I thought you should know, much though it grieves me to tell you.” 

A prickle of alarm touched Elizabeth’s heart. “What is it?” 

“Lizzy, he is engaged.” 

Elizabeth sank onto the edge of the bed, fearing she knew even before she asked, “Who?” 

Jane’s sorrowful look and downturned mouth were answer enough, yet Elizabeth required confirmation. “N-not…you do not mean to say Mr Darcy is…is…” 

“He proposed to his cousin,” Jane said quietly. “To Miss de Bourgh.” 

In retrospect, Elizabeth thought she should have gasped or cried or fainted, but she did none of those. A deep chill swept over her, and she wrapped her arms around her body, allowing her eyes to fall on Jane’s slender left hand—the hand on which Bingley’s ring now resided. The only syllable she uttered was “Oh.” 

“Charles is not certain exactly when it happened, though he does believe it was rather recent.” 

Elizabeth could think of nothing rational to say. She could only hug herself tight and silently scream, No!

At length, Jane offered, “He does not love her.” 

Elizabeth laughed weakly. “I should hope he does, otherwise they are due for a long, sad life together.”

“Charles thinks it is an enormous mistake. He is grieved on his friend’s behalf. Miss Darcy is none too pleased either.” 

“I am sorry to hear it,” Elizabeth said. “At least we may hope Lady Catherine’s joy is complete.” 

“Lizzy—” 

“Well, one cannot undo that which is done,” Elizabeth said briskly. She straightened her shoulders and rose from the bed. “I must go help our mother. Do you need anything?”

“Lizzy, stop. Talk to me. I know how this must upset you.” 

“No, no, I cannot allow my romantic tribulations to mar your happy day. Go to your husband.” 

“I cannot leave you when I—”

“Jane. Go.” Elizabeth forced a smile to her face. “Please go. All will be well. I just need a few minutes to myself.” 

With a kiss on her sister’s cheek and a few worried glances behind her, Jane eventually did as she was bid. As soon as she did, Elizabeth sank back onto the bed feeling weak and nauseated and bitterly cold. The tears did not come immediately, but when they did, they were copious. Elizabeth shoved her face into a pillow to suppress the sounds of her sobs, praying no one downstairs heard her and not caring if she suffocated to death. 

At length she realised she must go back down, loath as she was to see him again. She forced herself to rise and go to the washstand, wiping her face with a cool, wet cloth that did very little to repair her appearance. There was nothing for it, though; she had been absent too long.

Downstairs once again, she soon found that she need not have concerned herself; Mr Darcy was already gone.