Excerpt from Brother of the Bride, by Jack Caldwell

Greetings everyone. Jack Caldwell here.

A little while ago, I posted a scene from my upcoming Pride and Prejudice sequel, Brother of the Bride. That post may be found HERE. Now, several people were confused by the title. Was the bride in the title Lydia Wickham? She is Mr. Darcy’s sister by marriage, after all.

Short answer: no.

So, who is the bride? The following except may give you a clue.

London, February 1816

THE BALL HOSTED BY Mr. and Mrs. Arbuthnot in honor of their only daughter, Miss Dorothy Arbuthnot, was not the event of the season. Mr. Arbuthnot owned a modest estate in Norfolk of six thousand a year. Modest would also describe his daughter—modest in looks, modest in deportment, and modest in wit. What was not modest was her fortune of thirty-five thousand pounds, safely in trust and invested in the funds. Still, a ball was required to launch a nondescript debutante like Miss Arbuthnot into the marriage-market that was the Season.

The occasion proved the axiom that the plainer the lady, the grander the event. The ballroom’s decorations were extravagant. Surely half the candles in London had been sacrificed to light the scene. Flowers and greenery were everywhere. The tables groaned under the weight of the refreshments. The musicians were of the highest quality. Undoubtedly, Mr. Arbuthnot had placed his finances in dire straits to promote his daughter.

Little of the expenditure could be appreciated by the attendees. An extensive guest list assured a packed ballroom, leaving only the minimum of space for dancing.

“Good Lord,” grumbled Mr. Darcy, as he, his wife, and his sister slowly made their way through the throng after suffering the reception line, “I believe half of London is here.”

“Hush, Fitzwilliam,” said Elizabeth good-naturedly. “You would complain—Oh, good evening, Lady Cardwell! Mrs. Wood-Smythe! How good to see you!—you would complain if this was a small card party. Come, I see your aunt and uncle by that great fern on the far wall. Try to smile, my dear.”

“Of course. One should always smile in the face of adversity.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Yes, dear. The beatings will commence in ten minutes. Hurry along now.”

Georgiana tried unsuccessfully to hold back a giggle. The Darcys soon joined the earl and countess. With them were the viscount and viscountess, Lord Andrew and Lady Eugenie. After initial greetings, the ladies occupied themselves complementing each other’s choice of gown. Georgiana was sparkling in a gown of white with a light gold lace overlay, gold combs, and a pearl necklace. Elizabeth’s deep green gown matched the Darcy emeralds at her throat. Lady Matlock was in claret, while Lady Eugenie’s navy silk was almost back.

“My word, Darcy,” drawled Lord Andrew as he gestured at his cousin. “A matching waistcoat? You are not a newlywed, you know.”

“Harrumph,” responded Lord Matlock. “Probably marking his territory, if I know Darcy.”

“Stop teasing him, both of you,” scolded Lady Matlock. “I think he looks very well, very well indeed. You both could take a lesson from him.”

Darcy refused to respond, even though his ears were bright red with embarrassment. His uncle was correct. He had allowed the green waistcoat not only to please Elizabeth but to ward off any unsavory characters from approaching. Elizabeth hid her smile with a gloved hand.

“I am far too old for such gestures, m’dear,” declared Matlock.

She affectionately slapped his arm with her fan. “So you have said, you old goat. Ah! Georgie, I think I spy someone looking for you!”

Sure enough, Viscount Llewellyn soon joined them. While he greeted everyone with the proper decorum, his eyes never left Georgiana. Duty done, he addressed her.

“Miss Darcy, I should be honored for a set.”

“The supper set is free,” she nervously managed.

Darcy’s eyebrows rose.

Young Llewellyn grinned from ear to ear. “Thank you. May I say how lovely you look this evening?”

Georgiana dropped her chin. “Thank you, my lord.”

Darcy turned to Elizabeth to see her satisfied smile.

Llewellyn began to speak again but thought better of it. He stood nervously, working his hands.

“Llewellyn,” said the earl, “how does your family? Well, I trust?”

He assured him that the various Wakefords and Woodhouses were in good health. Something caught his eye. “Ah, there are my cousins now. May they join us, sir?”

Permission granted, he summoned the couple, Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley. “Wakeford House is leased at present, so Cousin John was good enough to accommodate me.”

Darcy was acquainted with the London solicitor but knew the gentleman’s brother better. “Your brother remains at Highbury?”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy,” replied Mr. Knightley. “My wife’s father prefers the familiar confines of Hartfield, and his peace of mind requires George and Emma’s agreeable company.”

Darcy knew that the Knightleys resided at Hartfield Estate, even though George Knightley owned the neighboring property, Donwell Abbey. “Remind him he owes me a match when he is next in town.” The two were members of the same fencing club.

“I shall.”

“Oh, but I do not know when that will be,” interrupted his wife. “The London air is so disagreeable! George and Emma are wise to stay away. The winter is tolerable, I grant you, but the summer! I declare, we would remove the children to Surrey in a moment, if not for Mr. Knightley’s profession!”

Mr. Knightley patted his wife’s hand. “Of course, my dear.”

Throughout the conversation, Elizabeth uttered only the bare minimum polite discourse. It was unusual for her, but Darcy knew she could not abide the foolish and valetudinary, and Isabella Knightley suffered from the latter. As the conversation ended, for the Fitzwilliams said less than Elizabeth, Lord Llewellyn took his relations away, sparing one last tender glance at Georgiana—a look she returned.

An uneasy Darcy pulled Elizabeth a little away. “What is going on?” he whispered.

“A ball, husband.” Butter would not melt in Mrs. Darcy’s mouth.

“I refer to Georgie, as you well know,” he hissed.

Her response was to lightly smile, pat his cheek, and return to Lady Matlock’s side, leaving her perplexed husband to ponder the last few minutes.

Lord Llewellyn is a fine young man—intelligent, honorable, and agreeable. Yet tonight, the boy could not put two words together. Except with Georgie.

And Georgie! What was she about? She is acting very strangely. Much like Elizabeth when I returned to Longbourn—

Darcy started.

Oh no!

Catch on? And yes, Emma Knightley will feature prominently in this story! Emma finally enters the Jane Austen’s Fighting Men universe!

I just finished the first draft of Brother of the Bride, so keep on the lookout for it. Meanwhile, pick up a copy of The Three Colonels.

Thanks for reading!

Until next time, this has been the Cajun Cheesehead Chronicles.

It takes a real man to write historical romance, so let me tell you a story…