An overdue update

Do you ever feel overwhelmed sending an overdue email to a friend because there’s just so much to tell them, so you procrastinate until it gets even worse? Especially when there’s something you really want to avoid saying? Well, that’s the spiral I’ve been in on blog posts, so I’m going to bite the bullet and cram this with lots of news, and hope that gets me back on track!

Snickerdoodle looking innocent

When last heard from in May, I was trying to finish Pride & Paleontology, my new short novel where Darcy is a Regency fossil hunter. It only had a few scenes and some edits to go, but the universe had different plans, or at least my kitten Snickerdoodle did. A little kitten-induced trauma occurred while I was walking downstairs, with the end result of a broken wrist for me.  A broken wrist that spelled no typing for two months.

My hydrangea blue cast

I quickly learned that there were certain things I could do with dictation, but editing wasn’t one of them. After a week of frustration, I realized my only choice was to work on a story that I could handwrite. Normally this is no chore for me; I usually do my first draft in illegible longhand, but it doesn’t work for edits. So I decided to start work on drafting my next book while waiting for my wrist to heal.

This appeared to be what my Muse was waiting for, to the extent that I’m beginning to suspect she bribed Snickerdoodle to send me tumbling down those stairs. She’s apparently much more interested in this new book, a Pride & Prejudice fantasy, than the fossil-hunting book, because I’ve been tearing along through it much faster than usual. I’m very excited about the story, as is everyone in my critique group, but I’m afraid that if I put it down to finish Pride & Paleontology, I’ll lose my momentum. So right now the fossils are on the back burner for a while, but it will still be released. Whew, so there it is – bad news for everyone who was so enthusiastic about it! I’m really sorry for the delay.

Anyway, here’s an excerpt from my upcoming Pride & Prejudice magical fantasy. This is near the beginning, while Jane is sick at Netherfield, in a world where landowners can have magical ties to the land. In this scene, she’s taking a break from Jane’s sickroom for a walk in the countryside.

~~~

The footpath led along the edge of a small woods and an empty pasture lined by drystone walls. On the other side of the wall, a grubby child, no more than four years of age, looked up at Elizabeth’s approach and grinned to show an adorable space between his front teeth. He proudly held up a ragged bouquet of wildflowers for her admiration.

The picturesque scene lifted Elizabeth’s spirits as she proceeded down the path, past the copse and into a field where winter wheat was just starting to sprout. The seedlings tugged at her Talent, begging to borrow some of her strength, and she allowed a trickle of magic to soak into the soil, the bright tingling shooting through her feet leaving a warm peace in their wake. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of what her father would say about wasting her Talent outside Longbourn lands, but he would never know, and the seedlings would feed a hungry family next harvest. Perhaps even the sweet child she had seen.

As she trod carefully in the center of the path to avoid trampling any of the tiny plants, the sound of distant thunder behind her made her look up.

There was not a cloud in the sky.

Then she saw it. Half a dozen cows were charging across the pasture she had just passed, their heads down – directly towards the child picking flowers.

There was no time to think. She raced towards the boy, but it was clear already that she would not make it in time.

Her breath sobbing in her throat, she skidded to a halt, and, in the same movement, reached down to pull up a handful of weeds. This had to work, even if she was not on Longbourn land, or the child would be trampled before her eyes. Biting her lip until she drew blood, she spat into the weeds.

Thank heavens she was wearing her special gloves! She peeled one off so quickly that it caught and ripped her fingernail, but she did not hesitate. Instead she stuffed the blood-speckled weeds inside the glove and threw it towards the stampeding cows.

“Soar!” she cried, pouring her Talent into the flying glove. “Soar and then burn!” She could almost see it take wing, flying farther than her throw could take it, far beyond the child. As it fell in front of the cows, she commanded it to burst into flame.

The glove exploded into a wall of fire as it struck the ground. “Burn, burn, burn,” Elizabeth chanted, praying it would turn the cows. And then, through the flames, she could see the cattle veering away, back into the open field.

She half-collapsed back against the stone wall, hardly able to stand now that she had poured all of her energy into the magic. But she could not stay there. She pulled herself over a stile and limped weakly toward the child, who was sobbing in fear. “All is well,” Elizabeth called. “You are safe.” She looked over her shoulder to make certain the cows were keeping their distance, but they were nowhere to be seen. How had they vanished so quickly?

She stopped short. Stampeding cows that came from nowhere, and now had disappeared? Something was very wrong. The flames she had created were dying back now, flickering knee-high.

Well beyond them, a shadowy figure strode forward through the haze of smoke. Had he been the one to startle the cows into stampeding? He should know to be more careful than that around livestock! Even from this distance, she could tell he was angry. And then he, too, vanished.

Had he seen her using her Talent? This could be a disaster. Perhaps he was only worried about the fire, but that would go out completely in a few minutes. And just then, the child leaned against her, whimpering, and threw his arms around her legs.

She patted his head, wishing she could do more, but if she tried to pick him up after working such a feat of Talent, her legs would not hold her. She had to get him to his mother. “Where do you live?” she asked.

The boy did not lift his face from her skirt, but he pointed a shaking finger behind her.

“Good. Let us go there, then.” And it would take her away from the man who might have seen her. She took the boy’s hand and began to walk, pretending strength she barely possessed. But it was enough to reach the edge of the field, and somehow she managed to raise her feet to clamber over the stile.

At least now they would be safe from the invisible cows. Could it all have been a figment of her imagination? No, because the boy had seen them too, and the smell of smoke still clung to her.

The boy tugged her towards a narrow path leading to a small cottage. How could she explain to his mother what had happened? She might well recognize her and ask unwelcome questions. Better to let the boy tell the story, so that magical flames and charging cattle who disappeared could be attributed to a child’s over-vivid imagination. Yes, that was the answer.

She dropped the boy’s hand. “There you go. You will be safe now.”

He tried to reach for her again, but she gave his shoulders as a gentle push. “I will watch from here until you are inside.” She had to harden her heart against his pleading look, but he, unlike her, was in no real danger here. She needed to escape from the man who had seen her. Reluctantly the boy trudged into the cottage, and a muffled woman’s voice greeted him.

That was one problem solved. Elizabeth hurried back down the path as quickly as her exhausted legs could manage. No, it was no use; she could not possibly outdistance the man. Hiding from him was her only option.

The copse at the edge of the pasture would be her best bet. The man was nowhere to be seen, so she could make it that far.

She should take off her other glove, just in case she encountered someone. It looked odd to wear only one. And now she would need to make another one. So very many hours of labor went into each one that it was frustrating to lose it.

Just then a man’s voice sounded, and nearby. Very nearby. “Wait, Miss Elizabeth!”

Startled, Elizabeth spun about, but there was no one in sight. Was she hearing things? And now the path in front of her was blurring, the air shimmering.

Obviously she had overextended herself much more than she had thought. Usually it was only her legs that betrayed her after performing a feat of magic, but this time, even her senses were not to be trusted.

She needed to get back to house, and quickly, before someone discovered her in this condition. Gathering her strength, she strode forward.

And ran into an immovable object. A warm, breathing, immovable object, where there was nothing but an empty path before her.

Strong hands gripped her shoulders. Strong invisible hands. In desperation, she tried to push away, but to no avail. “Who are you?” she cried.

“Pardon me?” The voice sounded annoyed, and in a familiar way. “Oh. Forgive me.” Suddenly the shimmering air coalesced into a solid form enclosed in a black greatcoat.

It was Mr. Darcy. And she was pressed tightly against his chest. {sensation}

Elizabeth gulped. “How did you do that?”

“Never mind that! How did you interfere with my cows? I must know!”

“Your cows?” she exclaimed indignantly, pushing away from him. “You started that stampede? Your cows almost trampled a little boy.”

He waved his hand, as if brushing away her objection. “It would not have harmed him.”

“Not have hurt him? Do you think a maddened cow has the sense to avoid a child?”

“It was an illusion,” he snapped. “How did you block them?”

An illusion? She had heard of such things, but they were the province of mages, and the few that existed were in royal service, not making illusory cows charge across a country field! But it made sense, how the cattle had appeared out of nowhere and disappeared as quickly, and how he had managed to hide himself only a few feet from her.

There was no acceptable answer she could give him, so she said the tiny bit of truth she could. “I stuffed some grass inside my glove to make a ball, and then I threw it at them, hoping it would startle them.”

His eyes narrowed. “Half the field was afire from your glove stuffed with grass. You used magic.”

“My magic, as you would call it, is only the trace of Talent that anyone in a landed family may show.” If she said it with enough conviction, perhaps he would believe her. “You may ask anyone.”

He shook his head. “No, you are the landed Talent, and a strong one, if I am not mistaken. That explains why I can tolerate your sister’s presence so well. And you…” His eyes lit up, as if he were perceiving a miracle taking place before his eyes. “You do not repel me.”

Her jaw dropped, and then she laughed in shocked disbelief. “Mr. Darcy, you amaze me! First you declare me only tolerable, and now that I do not repel you! You should be careful when you bestow such fine compliments upon a lady. She might get the wrong idea about you – but she would be unlikely to mistake you for a gentleman!”

He seemed not to even hear her. “How can this be? With the Talent you have, I should not be able to stand this close to you, much less touch you.” He pulled off his glove, and, after a moment of hesitation, as if in anticipation of pain, brushed the back of his fingers lightly against her cheek. “Astonishing!”

She took another step backwards, ignoring the wave of sensation his brief touch had engendered. “You may have the physical ability to touch me, but you most certainly do not have my permission to do so!”

“What? Oh, of course,” he said absently, as if his thoughts were racing far away. “But it does not matter. If your Talent can entwine with mine, and you do not repel me, then I must rethink everything.”

She took a deep breath, trying to settle her jangled nerves. He was making no sense, and his behavior was outrageous. Clearly there was something very wrong with Mr. Darcy, in addition to the disaster of her Talent being discovered. “You may not find me repellant, but I am done with this conversation, sir. Pray excuse me.”

“No! Do not go. I must know more of this. How did you come to have your family’s Talent? Why not your elder sister?”

She had no choice but to answer that. “I have already told you, I have nothing more than a trace of Talent. Jane is the heir to the family Talent.”

“Then how could you alter my illusion? That would be hard enough for any landed Talent, yet you did it with ease.”

“I fear you were mistaken. I did nothing more than throw my glove at your cows.” It sounded so weak, but she could think of nothing better. Oh, why had she not taken greater care to disguise her magic? Not that there had been much opportunity, if she wished to save the boy from the charging cattle. The cows that did not exist.

“I do not know why you are denying it, but I was not mistaken.” He moved closer to her, gazing intently into her face. “Elizabeth, this changes everything.”

Heat flushed through her at the intensity of his expression. Or had it been his use of her given name, without the formal ‘Miss’? The intimacy was at odds with everything she knew about him, and her own reaction disturbed her. “Mr. Darcy –”

He reached out once more, this time cupping her cheek with his bare hand.

She should pull away. He was acting like a madman, and she did not even like him. Why was she permitting this?

The rushing sound of wings cutting through the air was her only warning before the falcon split the air between them. Feathers filled her face briefly, and a strong muscled wing knocked her a step backwards.

Mr. Darcy gave a cry of pain.

The kestrel flew past, revealing blood dripping down the side of Mr. Darcy’s face from three parallel cuts. He pressed his hand to them and then took it away, staring at his red-stained fingers. “What in God’s name was that?” he demanded. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at the torn flesh.

Elizabeth winced. Oh, dear! How could she explain this? The bird was still circling overhead, preparing to stoop towards Darcy again. “No, Cerridwen!” she cried. “I am in no danger.”

If a falcon in flight could look annoyed, this one did at that moment, but she returned to circling.

Darcy stared at her. “That is your bird? It is a menace!”

“She is perfectly tame.” It was not true; Cerridwen always did whatever she chose, but she would harm no one without reason. “She was merely trying to protect me. Here; pray permit me to look at your cuts.” She stepped forward and pulled out her handkerchief, hoping to distract him from the bird.

The cuts were jagged, but fortunately not deep. She dabbed at the longest one with her handkerchief, reaching down through her feet to draw up the power of the earth. It did not come quite as readily as it would have at Longbourn, or perhaps it was because she had exhausted her abilities earlier, but the tiny lightning flashes of power flowed through her as she directed it to slow the blood flow. The edges of the lesion drew closer, but she stopped before they fully healed. She wanted them to look less serious, not to make them disappear in a way she could not explain.

He caught at her wrist, staring at her in disbelief. “Were you using Talent on me?”

How had he known? No one had ever recognized it before when she helped a healing along, but then again, she had never tried it on someone with landed magic before. Foolish, foolish mistake! She bit her lip. “As I said, I have a trace of Talent, and it was the least I could do when my falcon injured you.”

He gingerly felt the cuts. “I still do not understand how you could do that, but I thank you.”

At least he was gracious for once! “You are most welcome.” Perhaps she could escape now, if her legs decided to hold her up.

Or perhaps not. The falcon circled lazily down around her. With a sigh, Elizabeth held out her arm. There was no denying Cerridwen when she had her mind set on something.

~~~

Well, what do you think? I’m waiting with bated breath. 🙂

Now that I’ve broken the ice, I’m hoping to keep you up to date more! Here’s one thing in the offing – this autumn marks the twentieth anniversary of the first Austenesque story I wrote and posted to a Jane Austen website. Yes, the first chapter of the story that became What Would Mr. Darcy Do! I couldn’t have imagined then that I’d still be writing it 20 years later! I’m hoping to celebrate that in December with some fun and giveaways. And more excerpts!