Book Preview: Chapter 1 – The Unexpected Heir

July 11th is coming quick! I do not have a preorder yet, but I am working on getting the final proofreading and edits done on The Unexpected Heir so it will be out on time! We had a preview a while back of the preview and Chapter 1, but I have reposted both since they have since been edited (This has not been through final proofing yet. I’m working on it!).  Chapter 2 will post early next week on my website, lldiamondwrites.com. If you have not read the preview yet, click here. I also talk about some of my research and how I used it in the book. I hope you enjoy.

Now, without further ado . . . Chapter 1!

Chapter 1

14 September 1811

The warmth of the sun bathed Elizabeth’s face as she wound through the stones, her fingers trailing along the varied textures of the weathered rock. The stone circle was her favourite place to idle away a morning. Here, in the middle of Oakham Forest, she was surrounded by the trees and the gentle caress of the breeze. Few ventured into this wood without reason, and it was a rarity for someone not magical. Most outside of their circles had forgotten this place existed. Over the centuries, the Bennet family had ensured that those other than the people of Meryton had ceased to come here. Outsiders now believed this wood to be haunted. The enchantments and charms she had spent so many hours learning as a child had been successful. Now, she spent countless hours here. Why would she not? This place brought her a solace nowhere else could.

A gentle breeze wound through the forest surrounding her, tickling her flesh while it whispered its secrets into her ear. Here and there, she closed her eyes and listened more diligently in an effort to catch every nuance. The trees added their own voices with the rustling of the turning and falling leaves, which contributed further to the discourse.

While she meandered, the huge white stag she called Herne stood in the centre watching her. Several sizeable hares also bounded about the clearing. They enjoyed the soft, verdant grass that grew near the edges. Now that autumn approached, their favourite meal was not as abundant as during the warmth of the summer, but that did not deter their search. During some early mornings, she was joined by the local pheasants, but this morning, they seemed to be elsewhere.

When she neared the middle, she pressed her hands on the largest of the stones that appeared to be laying on its side. The enormous rectangular altar hummed under her fingers, which made her flesh prickle. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she allowed the sensation to wash over her.

The stone, whose source of power deep inside the earth ran along the same vein as that at Stonehenge and Avebury, only hummed unless the equinox or the solstice were near. The surrounding rocks here were not as grand as the other stone circles; they barely protruded from the earth, though their magic was no less powerful. The Autumn Equinox was in three days, so the altar should be readying itself. So why was the vibration stronger than she could ever remember?

She straightened and faced Herne. “Time to return.”

The stag threw his head up and down with a snort before he followed her from the ring. Every time she left for one of her solitary rambles in the forest, he was her most faithful companion. He met her at the first of the trees where she entered the wood and followed her back when she departed for the day. She was never alone, and at times, he almost appeared to watch more of their surroundings than he did her, but deer often kept an eye out for danger, did they not?

Her bare fingers trailed along the bark of the great oaks as she wound through the trees, her ear still trained on what the earth was willing to reveal. Soon, she met the brook that trickled towards Longbourn and the willow where she spent many hours hiding from the world and reading. How she loved this place! The boughs provided a respite when her home and her four sisters became overbearing. The stone circle did as well, but it did not provide the sense of solitude and security the trailing leaves of the willow provided so generously.

When she reached the edge of the wood, she held up her hand and closed her eyes to whisper the incantation she had recited every time she left Herne. He did not blend into his surroundings like others of his type, and his size and almost silver-white fur made him an obvious target for those brave enough to disregard the tales of ghosts and spectres and seek to kill their dinner within. Since she first found Herne, she had shielded him from the sight of others for his protection. Those who were magical would see him as a messenger from heaven and leave him unharmed. To anyone else, he was easy prey.

Herne touched her hand with his nose and allowed her to stroke his head. He was the most stunning creature she had ever beheld. They had both been young when they first met fourteen years ago, but he had become old while she had merely grown to adulthood. She did not want to consider the day when she came to the forest and he was gone. Her eyes burned at the thought. He was her best friend. What would she do when that day finally arrived?

“If weather permits, I shall return on the morrow.”

He nudged back against her palm, then she turned to begin the walk through the field. While she made her way down the well-worn path that led to Longbourn, sheep grazed on what was left of last year’s wheat planting, which had been threshed a month prior.

Once she had slipped through the break in the hedgerow, the sounds of her family became discernible. Elizabeth meandered through the herb gardens towards the door to the kitchens. Her mother’s high-pitched tone was the most prominent. As soon as she entered Longbourn, Mrs. Hill shook her head.

“Your mother is in a right dudgeon this morning. She has already broken two teacups and sent a muffin flying at your father’s head. The teacups I can repair, but unfortunately, I can do naught about your father’s pride. Jane has been making every attempt to calm Mrs. Bennet, but your mother is volatile today. If Jane continues to exert herself as she has, she will be worn out before noon.”

Elizabeth smiled. Mrs. Hill had been housekeeper at Longbourn since before Elizabeth had been born and had been more of a mother to her than her own. “Papa has not attempted to soothe her?”

“No, he sent for a potion from the apothecary. You know how wearing he finds it to temper your mother’s moods. He is not as young as he once was, and I am willing to vow that her fits take more out of him than some of the more powerful magic.” Mama had been losing her wits since she had carried Elizabeth, though her father’s weariness at tending to his wife’s capricious behaviour had stemmed more from his inability to hide himself from the strife rather than to temper the disturbance in the first place.

“I shall see what I can do,” said Elizabeth as she made her way to the door.

“Your father will not be pleased if you interfere. Without him in the room to mask your magic, your mother will sense who is inhibiting her, and he will be forced to manipulate her memory once again. You know that only makes her condition worse.”

Elizabeth sighed and scrubbed her forehead. “I shall speak to him first then.”

The servants’ passages of Longbourn were narrow and dark, but she had memorised the way long ago. As soon as she opened the door into the breakfast room, the light from a nearby window blinded her for a moment before she could continue into the parlour.

“Where have you been?” screeched her mother as she entered. The tone was ear-splitting and made Elizabeth wince. Mary took her stack of books and made her escape while Kitty and Lydia giggled as they skipped from the room and out of the front door with titters about the new groom at the inn. Once again, Mama was letting them venture to Meryton alone. Why would Papa not exert himself to stop them?

“I took a walk, Mama,” said Elizabeth. “I hope you are well this morning.”

A fork from the tea tray rattled then flew at her face. Elizabeth shifted to the side, the fork missing its target and embedding into the wall. Mrs. Hill would need to repair that later as well.

Jane, Elizabeth’s elder sister, placed a hand on her mother’s arm. “Lizzy walks every morning unless the weather is poor; do you not remember?”

Mama’s countenance made a gradual change before she blinked and nodded. “Yes, I suppose.” Her forehead furrowed as she turned to Jane. “Why is my mind so muddled?”

Her sister’s hand squeezed ever so slightly. “You must not have slept well last night. Perhaps a nap would do you good.”

Before her mother could utter a word a maid, hurried over and helped Mama stand. “Come, Mrs. Bennet. I am certain Mrs. Hill can send up one of her nice draughts for you to drink. That should help you sleep.”

As soon as Mama departed, Elizabeth sat beside her sister. “You cannot keep exerting yourself on her so. She cannot be dependent upon you to subdue her rages. One day, you will meet a gentleman, fall in love, and wish to marry, and if you continue as you are, you will feel compelled to remain at Longbourn to care for Mama instead of following your heart.”

Jane exhaled. “She is losing control more and more. The effort it takes to soothe her agitation has become exhausting. I fear cannot calm her wrath for long anymore. What will become of her if Papa is left to care for her alone?”

“Maybe if I had been a boy. . .” said Elizabeth. “This all began when Papa told her I was to be the heir. Perhaps her lack of control before my birth had been more like excitement, then when she learnt I was a girl, that anticipation became anger.”

Her sister’s hand landed upon her forearm, and she took a quick glance behind her. “Do not even think such a thing. Mama cares for you in her own way. How was she to know you would be the first female heir? Can you imagine? Centuries upon centuries of powerful male magicians, then you shock what everyone has believed for all that time. She was bound to dismiss you at first glance. ’Tis unfortunate she cannot be trusted with the information now.”

Elizabeth removed her hand from Jane’s. “I can feel the magic trickling through my skin, sister. I do not require your talents to soothe me.”

Her sister’s shoulders slumped a little. “Forgive me. I had not intended . . .”

“I know. Between Mama and Lydia, you use it too often, so you do not always realise you are influencing our behaviour. Papa sent for a potion from Mr. Jones. Let him and Mrs. Hill manage Mama’s moods as much as possible. I understand she will require your taming touch from time to time, but your ability should not be the sole means to maintain her balance. ’Tis not fair to you.”

Jane nodded. “Have you seen something of my future I should know?”

With a smile, Elizabeth shrugged a shoulder. “Even if I had, you are well aware I would not tell you. Papa has warned me of the dangers of altering the course of what is to come. That which seems a simple and benign disclosure could have devastating consequences.”

“At times, I wish I could see what will happen.” Jane sighed.

Elizabeth grasped Jane’s hands in hers. “Believe me when I say visions are not as exciting or straightforward as they sound. Many times, I see bits and pieces of the future or even the past. The meaning is rarely clear. I have all these fragments that do not always fit together as a whole.”

“I had not considered it being as such. Papa has never spoken of his, but little surprises him.”

“My sex shocked him,” she said with a laugh. “And when he was first told I was a girl, he considered that he could have foreseen the birth of a subsequent child—then he saw my birthmark.” Jane had known for years of the four-point star on the inside of Elizabeth’s arm. Concealment bore no purpose with Jane, who would guard the knowledge with her life. Her dearest sister would never reveal her identity until the right time. Her other sisters, however, remained ignorant to this day. Elizabeth’s stomach churned at the idea of them discovering what she was. They would tell all and sundry with no regard for the consequences.

They still believed as most did: that the Bennets had no magical heir, that all of the girls had no more than similar talents to most women and those males who were not the heir. Why would they not? It was how magic had passed through families for longer than Elizabeth’s lifetime or even her father’s and grandfather’s lifetimes. The last all-powerful woman to exist had been the Lady of the Lake, although most outside magical circles considered her a legend or tale to be told. Niniane[1] had also been a water fairy, thus, she had not been human.

“I suppose you are correct,” said Jane. “Speaking of Papa, he wishes to talk with you.”

Elizabeth shrugged. “When does he not?”

“How much more do you have to learn before Papa is satisfied?”

She paused after rising. “No limit exists to the magical arts. Papa is constantly learning, and I shall, no doubt, do the same.” Papa would likely continue to teach her until she departed for her own household or he died, whichever came first.

Longbourn was now oddly quiet as she went to the library. No sooner had she knocked than Papa’s warm voice called for her to come. Her father lowered his book, his green eyes studying her over his half-moon glasses. He never took anything at a moment’s glance.

“How was your ramble?”

“The wind is restless. Change is coming.”

He gave a dip of his chin. “I have heard the whispers too.”

“I have endured so many visions of late—the past and the future—that I can hardly make sense of them all.” Her sleep was not restful when foresight came to her in dreams. Last night, she had once again witnessed her birth. She had never been able to see all of what had occurred that morning. This time, she had woken up not long after her father had taken her in his arms. She had awakened with her head pounding and her heart racing. Her walk had helped put her to rights. That said, a slight thrum still echoed within.

Her father set his book upon the desk. “I believe some shift has already occurred. An imbalance has begun, but I am unsure of where it arises. Visions become more frequent during times of change.”

“Is that also why the altar stone is humming stronger than it has in the past?”

Papa sat straighter and furrowed his brow. “The altar is a conduit for magical power as we approach the solstice and the equinox. A steady stream comes from the vein in the earth, but if the vibration has increased, then the magical presence in the area has altered or will soon, and the stone is anticipating the new power. Only a handful of families could cause the altar to make so noticeable a change.” He said the last in a mumble, almost to himself.

Families had varying degrees of magic, and he was correct that at this time in England, only a small number held the most substantial power. The non-magical had come to be commonplace while the belief of magic became more of a superstition. Their abilities faded with their denial—the power reverted back to the earth and the channels that flowed through it.

“Lizzy, I. . .I must admit that I have kept something from you all of these years. You have seen, in visions, the morning of your birth, but we have not spoken of it often. I have also avoided telling you everything.”

“I have seen some. I know a lady was in the room with Mama and the midwife. After Mama rejected me, I was brought here to you. You have explained why she never told Mama of the birthmark, but I know little else.”

Papa cleared his throat. “The lady in the bed chamber with your mother was Lady Anne Darcy. The Darcys and the Bennets have been friends for generations. Lady Anne’s husband, George Darcy, was a gifted mage, and Lady Anne’s family, the Fitzwilliams, have a legacy of magical talent as well. Since I had foreseen the birth of the heir, George and his wife offered to come to your birth and to welcome the next of the Bennets to carry the mantle.

“When you were born and we knew you to be a girl, we spent the next day going over and over how to protect you once you came of age. As you know, we have delayed your announcement in our circles, which was never questioned since we had no boy child. Our most pressing concern was those who would seek you out and manipulate you once you became of marriageable age. We have delayed to protect you.”

Her spine stiffened. “I can protect myself, Papa.”

“Yet, the ways to harm you—to bend you to the will of others—are not all known to you. I have taught you of our ancestors—of Niniane’s seduction of Merlin so he would teach her his magic. How, knowing what Niniane was as well as her plans, Merlin removed any memory of their babe from her so she would not manipulate the child to further her own means as she did with Lancelot. Merlin loved Niniane, even though he knew she would be the one to bring his end.”

Elizabeth had heard this story how many times? The family history was known to her; her father had ensured it. “Yes, and King Arthur saw the child hidden and gifted him Longbourn—or the land on which our home now resides. You have told me the story countless times. But I must say that I have no intention of falling in love with a water fairy.” One side of her lips quirked.

Her father gave a slight growl. “This is no time to jest. We have enjoyed a pocket of peace these last hundred or so years. We have had some suspicious occurrences but nothing to indicate a true evil—yet that does not mean those who would commit such atrocities are not lurking in the shadows. Those who will seek to harm you will assume you are not as strong as a man—”

“Is that what you believe?” How many times had they practiced, and how much had she learnt? Years and years of education were to prepare her for when her father announced who she was to the world. Could he truly believe she was weaker than a man?

His bushy eyebrows drew down. “No, of course not. The magic that flows through you is potent, quite potent. I believe you will surpass my abilities, but you must understand that others will underestimate you.”

“Is that not more a detriment to themselves?” After all, she could elude them more easily if they believed her weaker than she was.

“It can also be a detriment to you, my dear. George posed a solution at the time, and as much as I was not fond of the idea, his suggestion had merit.”

“I am afraid to ask,” said Elizabeth. Her hands had clasped in her lap, her knuckles almost white with the sudden tenacity of their grip. “Am I to be locked in a tower? Or will you place an enchantment upon me? I wish to face whatever danger would come instead of hiding away like a coward.”

He held up a palm. “And you will, but you will have another by your side.”

Her chin hitched back. “Another? Who and what are you suggesting?” None of her sisters possessed a talent that would be of great aid in a confrontation. Jane’s nature was to calm those she touched, Mary could press her hand to a book and instantly know its contents, even though she preferred to read, Kitty could make a plant grow or bloom, which did prove useful with potion-making and for food but little else, and Lydia. . .well, Lydia was a siren of sorts. She could charm a man with a certain lilt of her voice, an ability that could be quite dangerous for a fifteen-year-old young lady if she was proficient. The effect of Lydia’s charm was not long-lived, however. Within a good half-hour, most were free of her magic and soon exhausted of her vapid behaviour.

Papa stood and rounded his desk. He took her hands and exhaled. “Lizzy, we planned your marriage.”

“My marriage?” Surely she had heard him wrong! He would not take away her ability to marry for love, would he?

He squeezed her hands. “Forgive me, but before the night of the winter solstice, you will be joined with the only person besides myself I would entrust with your life.”

Her heart began to pound in her ears, and she shook her head. “I do not need to wed anyone to be protected. I will not do it!”

“Lizzy,” he said in a gentle tone as he placed a palm to her cheek. “I must consider your safety above all else. You have no choice.”

[1] Niniane was believed to be the name of the Lady of the Lake in medieval texts. Paton, Lucy Allen (1903). Studies in the Fairy Mythology of Arthurian Romance. Boston, Ginn & Co.