Book birthdays

Hello everyone!

In April, I celebrate two book birthdays: The Recovery of Fitzwilliam Darcy (2021) and The Marriage Bargain (2022). Coincidentally, these are the books in which I altered Darcy’s circumstances the most. I find it an interesting exercise to alter the family dynamics of either Elizabeth or Darcy (or, why not, both!) and see what that means for their lives (as individuals and a couple) and how they navigate the world around them. Making radical changes to Darcy’s background might be more difficult than doing the same to Elizabeth. I like to imagine Darcy as the wonderfully rich, handsome, strong hero living in his beautiful country estate, ready to solve all of Elizabeth’s problems for her. Yet, I find myself pushing and prodding him onto a different path where maybe he needs Elizabeth to help him solve his problems. Of course, what makes them such a fantastic couple is that they help each other!

I’d like to share a few thoughts on both books and a couple of excerpts.

In The Recovery of Fitzwilliam Darcy, I flipped the idea of Elizabeth not really being a Bennet to Darcy’s identity being mistaken. He did not know he was a Darcy and was raised as the much more humble ‘William Lucas’.  This has repercussions for the Bennets, one of which was that Longbourn was a less acrimonious environment. Elizabeth and Darcy grew up living relatively easy, contented lives and looked forward to continuing along that path together. Once Darcy is returned to his proper family, it takes him time to find the inner strength that I think of as one of his key characteristics. Really, he—and Elizabeth—both need to grow up and learn to cope with adversity.

Darcy is poor in The Marriage Bargain. Generations of mismanagement have destroyed the family fortune, and Pemberley is falling apart. Darcy is proud of his heritage—and certainly feels he is superior to Elizabeth—but at the same time, he is ashamed of his parents, especially his father. He is conscious of what his life ought to have been, and disgusted by how far his reality is from that, between having had to seek employment and make a marriage of convenience to Elizabeth, who happens to be the fabulously wealthy ward of her uncle Gardiner.

The shadow of his father looms large over both novels too. In The Recovery of Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mr Darcy senior is alive, mired in grief, and terrified of losing his son to the only life he remembers. In The Marriage Bargain, his failures resulted in Darcy’s challenging life circumstances, both economic and emotionally.

I do have other ideas for knocking Darcy off the life path he was on before we meet him in Pride and Prejudice, but only time will tell if/when any of them get written!

Thank you for reading my musings, and now, the excerpts! Both are from early in the novels and show our dear couple as they embark on their story, i.e., just before Darcy discovered the truth about his past in The Recovery of Fitzwilliam Darcy, and soon after they meet in The Marriage Bargain.

The Recovery of Fitzwilliam Darcy  

Elizabeth and William walked in companionable silence. There was nothing she liked better than to be outdoors with the man she loved. Even though she had recognised that her love for him had become romantic some years earlier, her heart still swelled whenever she looked at him.

Elizabeth sighed happily. “It is such a lovely day. I adore this time of year. The weather is fair, at least until the middle of November, then it is your birthday. After that, I start to anticipate the holidays and the excitement of parties and my aunt and uncle visiting and the New Year beginning.”

“And soon after, it will be your birthday.”

“I shall be twenty at last.” They exchanged a smile, and Elizabeth gently squeezed his arm. He laid a hand over hers.

After a moment of silence, Elizabeth again spoke. “I am looking forward to seeing Captain Farnon.” The captain was a cousin of their neighbour’s, Mrs Long. They had met him a few months earlier, and he and Charlotte had become friends. Elizabeth knew that Charlotte hoped their relationship would become something more.

William nodded once. “To hear Mrs Long speak, the captain is as anxious to return to Meryton as my sister is to have him do so. I hope we are not expecting too much.”

“You hope, as do I, that Charlotte and Captain Farnon like each other as well as they did upon their last meeting, that Captain Farnon is as good a man as we all believe him to be, and that Charlotte finds the happiness she deserves.”

A cool breeze made Elizabeth shiver, and she edged closer to William. His eyebrows were pulled together, and a frown marred his handsome features. He was fretting about his sister, and she would not allow it.

“I suspect we will celebrate two weddings this winter. I must always think ours will be the happiest union, but I shall rejoice to see Charlotte as a bride. I cannot wait to be married to you. It feels like we have waited a lifetime.” Elizabeth smiled to herself as she anticipated the joys of being married to her William. Her cheeks warmed as her thoughts turned in a direction she knew proper young ladies were supposed to ignore.

Elizabeth plucked a brilliant pink chrysanthemum and twirled the stem between her fingers to make it spin. “I anticipate an assembly since, unlike you, I enjoy dancing. It is Mary’s first time attending, which I think deserves to be celebrated, although you know she is dreading it. Kitty and Lydia tease her about it; they can hardly wait until they are old enough to be out and do not understand her feelings.” She shrugged. “In a few weeks, the new tenants at Netherfield will arrive, unless they are again delayed. That will add to our gaiety. Perhaps they will be here for your birthday. Lady Lucas has already begun to speak of holding a party to commemorate it.”

“We shall have one for your birthday, as well.”

“After which, we can prepare for another special occasion. I believe a month will be more than enough time.”

She looked at him, expecting to have her grin returned, but his countenance was sombre, and there was something in his eyes that spoke of distress. Stepping in front of him, she dropped the flower, and took his hands in hers.

“William? What is it?”

He led her to a wooden bench by the side of the stone path, and they sat. For two full minutes, he kicked at the stones with the toe of his shoe; she waited patiently, looking out over the lush, verdant lawn, knowing he would speak once he had ordered his thoughts.

“Do you ever feel as though you do not quite…belong the way you think you should?”

Elizabeth produced a confused laugh. She regarded him and gently brushed a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. “Not belong? Of course, you do! Where could you belong more than you do here, surrounded by those who love you best of all, especially me.”

She smiled, but he shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak, shut it, then tried again, but only managed a soft grunt. He kissed her hand, and she linked her fingers with his. When he looked at her, she gave him a reassuring smile.

“Some weeks ago, Charlotte told me that she recalls a time I was not with them. She distinctly remembers me coming into their home as a small child, little more than a baby but not a newborn. She does not remember my birth or my presence before that.”

“One’s memory can be deceptive, particularly when one is so young.”

William met her eye and shook his head.

She said, “I do not understand what you mean.”

The indistinct sound of their sisters’ voices and the leaves rustling as a breeze went past filled the silence.

“If her memory is correct, we assume that…I am a natural child of Sir William’s. Before you and I get married, she thought I ought to know, although to what purpose, I do not understand.”

Elizabeth gasped, but before she could speak, William did, the words tumbling out of his mouth.

“I am not like my mother. Charlotte is. No one could take them for other than mother and daughter. I am tall like Sir William, and our colouring is not dissimilar. Perhaps I do not look like my mother because I am not her child. It would explain that feeling I sometimes have of not quite fitting in.”

“It cannot be,” cried Elizabeth. “Sir William and Lady Lucas are devoted to each other.”

William lifted his eyes to hers. “One could hardly believe it of them now, but what about in their younger years? Perhaps there were…indiscretions.”

Elizabeth stared at him, her mouth agape. He could not be serious.

“Charlotte said I should not tell you, because it would only distress you, but I cannot agree. It has preyed on my mind, and you need to understand our suspicions. If we are correct, I would still be a Lucas, but not-not really, not the same way my sister is. I hope for all our sakes nothing ever comes of this, that Charlotte is mistaken, but…”

Elizabeth scowled; she wanted to tell him the very notion that he was not Sir William and Lady Lucas’s legitimate son was ridiculous but held her tongue. “You cannot think it would alter my feelings!”

He squeezed her hand.

“In the very unlikely event that there is some question about your parentage, it cannot make any difference to me. What do you imagine might happen? Your mother’s family, not that I suppose you have a mother apart from Lady Lucas, would seek you out to right a great wrong that was done two decades ago? Although, I cannot imagine what it would be. That is the stuff of novels, not real life, not our lives. In four or five months, we shall marry and go on to live perfectly ordinary, happy, quiet lives right here in our little corner of Hertfordshire.”

William closed his eyes and bowed his head. After a moment, he kissed her hand.

She stood and pulled him up with her. “I insist we forget about this. Let us continue our walk. We can talk about what books my father is likely to have with him when he returns. I hope he found the treatise on geology I mentioned.”

William groaned. “I shall never understand why you find rocks so interesting.”

She laughed. “And I shall never understand how you can find fishing so fascinating. I propose we come to an understanding, Mr Lucas. I shall listen to you speak about fishing only for as much time as I may speak about rocks. What do you suppose is a reasonable weekly allotment of time? One hour? Two hours?”

William chuckled. She was glad to see that her silly banter had served its purpose, at least for the moment. She smiled and ignored the way her limbs trembled. Charlotte must be wrong. William illegitimate? It was preposterous! Even if there is some truth to his and Charlotte’s speculation, it matters not. I know the person he is, and I love him, regardless of his parentage. Nothing will ever separate us; I will not allow it. I could not bear it.

They wandered for a quarter of an hour before joining Charlotte and Jane. Nothing more was said about Charlotte’s memory or William’s parentage. Elizabeth’s agitation ebbed as she saw William’s cheer return. Elizabeth turned the conversation to upcoming parties, and by the time the Lucases departed, she had put the matter entirely out of her thoughts.

The Marriage Bargain

Darcy had absolutely, without a doubt, decided to forget about Elizabeth Bennet and her uncle. In spite of that, seemingly without volition, he found himself in Gracechurch Street. The second time he went, he saw only her—and the silent Mrs Hill, who once again sat in a corner sewing. He had no idea what to say, even believed he had no wish to talk to Miss Bennet at all, but conversation was required. They sat across from each other—her on a velvet sofa, holding a teacup, her deep-brown hair swept up in a soft mass, her clear skin glowing in the bright sun that poured through the window, and him on a brocade chair, clutching his cup and feeling awkward and angry. She was prettier than he remembered and looked particularly well in the shade of yellow she was wearing.

She said, “Your sister must be glad to have you here, and I imagine you are pleased to be near your family, given your recent travels and the sad reason for your hasty return. Are many of them in town?”

His grip on the cup tightened until he was afraid it would snap into pieces. He forced his fingers to relax. “My aunt and uncle, two of my cousins, and the viscount’s wife.”

Desperately wanting to change the subject, he asked about her family and childhood in Hertfordshire. To his surprise, she stilled and the brief silence that followed felt gloomy.

“Oh, there is little enough to say. What think you of books? I like nothing so much as a good book.”

She continued to speak, and Darcy was surprised to discover she was well read, and her uncle was a bibliophile, or so she claimed.

“I believe it is our favourite way to spend the evenings and days when the weather is too foul to venture out,” she said. “I often find there is nothing quite so efficacious as a book at changing one’s mood. I admit there are times when I wanted to feel contrary. I cannot really say why, though there have been occasions when I had to be in company with unpleasant people to whom I could not be churlish. It also might have been the situation. You know the sort of thing I mean—a meeting with people you wish to cooperate with on some venture or other. My meetings are usually about a charitable affair; I know that yours will have different purposes.”

Not sure how to respond after such a speech, he asked, “What do you read then?”

“Whatever is farcical or absurd. The former will make me laugh myself back into good humour, and the latter provides me with a new recipient for my vexation.”

“Such as? I mean to say, what might you read?” Her answer, and the open way she spoke, with her remarkable eyes dancing, was…amusing. His peevishness eased.

“I find one cannot do better for the ridiculous than old books of etiquette for young ladies, even some of the modern ones will do the trick. Perhaps I ought not to admit that, lest your opinion of me sink beyond repair. Old sermons work well too, such as Fordyce’s for young women. Do you know it?” When he shook his head, she continued, “I found a copy in my uncle’s collection. It is as well there is no chance of the reverend and I meeting, for I fear he would greatly disapprove of my manner. I recall one passage I know applies to me all too well. Fordyce evidently believed some young women were too forward and our conversation and appearance and demeanour were—oh, I cannot recall the exact way he described it, but he meant to say we lacked proper solemnity and were too vivacious, to the detriment of young gentlemen.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him, tilting her head to the side, and Darcy struggled not to laugh. Preventing the corners of his mouth from twitching was impossible. He did not know why he refused to show that he liked her joke, but he was determined not to let something so small make him like her more than he already did.

Which implies that I like her. I suppose I do. After all, there is nothing inherently wrong or disagreeable about her, other than her connexions to a man such as Mr Gardiner, and she is not Caro— He stopped himself from completing the name, even in the privacy of his thoughts. His situation would not be improved by comparing the two ladies.

Aloud, he said, “I see.”

She laughed. “I am sure you do, Mr Darcy, but I will not change how I usually am even for the length of a morning call. You ought to know me not as some costume I put on to make myself more—” She gestured as though unable to find the correct word, but he understood her well enough.

They spoke about farces they had read and admitted to both greatly enjoying Shakespeare’s The Comedy of Errors, which she had seen performed twice.

“My uncle is a something of a Shakespearean connoisseur,” she said. “His father was a country attorney and did not have much use for reading or even education beyond that boys of my uncle’s class would usually acquire. My uncle had a great thirst for knowledge, though, and was not satisfied with the path my grandfather wanted him to take—to become an attorney as he was—and has done everything he could to improve his mind. That is why he has such an extensive library.”

There was little he could say to that. While he did not believe a man must attend a university to be well-educated, he doubted he would ever apply the sobriquet of ‘learned’ to Mr Gardiner. When Miss Bennet offered to show him Mr Gardiner’s library, which she told him was wonderful, he declined. He felt a tinge of regret when disappointment flashed over her countenance before she spoke about poetry and other books that lifted her spirits.

That’s it for this time! I hope you enjoyed the look back. I had fun revisiting my past novels as I—perhaps—work on something new. 😉