Harvesting Friendship

There are numerous jokes in the Jane Austen on-line world about Mr. Collins’ affinity for potatoes. Although I’m ‘Team BBC,’ I still love any P&P fix I can get, and enjoy the way Janeites pay homage to this root vegetable in the most obscure ways.

Maybe it was that, or maybe I had too many French fries at In N Out that night for dinner, but before writing my 2nd complete JAFF novel “The Goodness of Men,” I had a dream.  Actually, dream might not be the correct word…it was more of a vision.

As I was moving from the state of sleep to awake, I saw an image of Mr. Darcy, MY Mr. Darcy (A cross between Henry Cavill, Colin Firth and my husband) standing in a field with the sun setting behind him, his lawn shirt untucked leaning against a shovel like a laborer. It was when I sat up, unable to shake that image from my mind, I knew I had to write a book with that scene.

“The Goodness of Men” is about exactly what it claims…good men. I was reared with three brothers, had a total of seven uncles, and fifteen male cousins. I was a tomboy and understood the minds of boys. I have always been impressed that guys are pretty straightforward: you know what you’re getting from the beginning. Guys (except for Wickham) appreciate honesty and hard work, whether physically, athletically or intellectually. That was part of my truth growing up: good men not only did what was expected, but also went above and beyond to help their friends.

Which brings me back to Mr. Darcy, which brings me back to potatoes, which brings me back to good men ‘Harvesting Friendship.’ The following scene is an excerpt from my 2nd stand-alone release, “The Goodness of Men.”  The basis for the story is that Charlotte was ill, therefore Elizabeth did not travel to Hunsford and receive a proposal from Mr. Darcy, nor learn of Wickham’s true character. Instead, she and Mr. Darcy will be thrown together during her summer travels  with Aunt Gardiner. I hope you enjoy this teaser.

“We are half a day’s journey. As delighted as I am to spend time with Amelia, I cannot wait to share the home of my youth with you.” Mrs. Gardiner closed her own book entirely and smiled brightly. “Lambton is a wonderful village. The only reason I could bear to leave it was to marry Edward. It has been fifteen years since I have seen it. I am sure many things have changed.”

“I am sure they have, Aunt, but your memories will enhance the charm.”

“It has other claims on your interest, as well. It is but five miles from Pemberley, where Mr. Wickham spent his youth. Depending on our engagements, we should petition the housekeeper to see the house.”

“Oh, I am not sure we should. I would not wish to encounter Mr. Darcy. We did not part on pleasant terms at the Netherfield ball nor has my opinion of him altered greatly.”

Mrs. Gardiner laughed and shook her head. “These great men are never at home. Besides, that was more than seven months ago. Nevertheless, we will wait until the opportunity presents itself to tour that great house. Until then, we will enjoy the pleasures of Chenowith.”

“I am certain there are many to be had.”

Lizzy gasped as the carriage rolled past a group of laborers plowing in the field. There was by no means anything that separated these field hands from others she had encountered in her life, even those working the fields of Longbourn. Dirty pants, ragged shirts, filthy boots. But one stood above the rest—his shirt clung to his physique and she blushed hotly. She turned her head back to her book, hoping her aunt had not taken notice. Quite a stirring sight indeed!

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Fitzwilliam Darcy noted the carriage as it rolled towards the great house before eyeing his friend Phillip Turner on horseback. “It appears you have guests.”

“Ah, yes. My sister’s friend, Mrs. Gardiner.” He laughed and dismounted his horse. “Darcy, what do you do here? When I asked for help, I had not expected you to work up a sweat.” He took the shovel from his friend’s hand and leaned against it, looking towards the carriage. “What would the elegant ladies of the ton say if they saw the master of Pemberley coming to the rescue of a poor landowner and helping him harvest his potatoes?”

“They would wonder why I did not send all my servants in my stead and stay at Pemberley to listen to my sister play her new pianoforte.” He wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve and took back the spade.

“When I invited you to Chenowith, my intention was not to make you work for your keep.”

Darcy grinned and continued digging. “A man likes this exercise. It allows me to think. To temporarily escape from my responsibilities. But you know, this would not have occurred if my old friend’s workers and tenants had not prescribed to the enticements of a charlatan.”

“Yes, yes, that is true. It is regrettable so many fell ill from his mystical elixir at the Cranston festival two days ago.” Turner took off his own jacket and laid it aside. “I hope the magistrate finds the impostor.”

Darcy grinned and shrugged his shoulders all the while staying engaged in his labors. “It is unfortunate, but no matter. Yet, I am sure you are grateful not all your tenants and servants were so voracious in their celebrations.”

“That I am. However, it seems there were just enough remaining to make it a challenge for the estate to get the crop in. The potatoes are ahead of expected harvest with all the rain this year. The foreman said they will rot and be lost if we do not harvest now.” He grunted as he lifted his own shovel.

“He would know,” Darcy said. “We have planted it successfully at Pemberley for many years, first in the upper pasture, then in the lower. I cannot guarantee your success, but you might see a multitude of crops.”

“That would be a blessing,” Turner said, straining against the weight of the soil. “As you know, last year’s harvest of wheat was all but wiped out by the infestation. I could not endure my tenants to suffer through another year. Luckily, we had enough in the store houses to help them subsist but the coffers are not full as they once were.”

“So is the woe of a landowner.” Darcy forcefully thrust his shovel into the soil.

“Yes, but I would rather be a landowner with those concerns than a tenant with a sore back.” Turner arched his back and stretched his shoulders, rubbing his neck with his hands.

Both men laughed as they continued to dig up their bounty. “My foreman expects we shall be finished tomorrow evening with the additional workers arriving from Pemberley.”

“Good.” Darcy laughed. “I could use a good scrub. Poor Briggs will have no idea what to do with me.”

“I am anxious to return as my sister’s friend is to bring her niece—a reputed beauty. She is the daughter of a poor gentleman, but even a poor gentleman’s daughter is always more pleasant to look on across the dinner table than these potatoes.”

“Harrumph. Beauty only lasts so long, my friend. Do not fall prey to a pretty face.”

“Do you fear I will end up like Bingley? Love-struck over every fair-haired maiden? Give me more credit, Darcy. I know the kind of woman I must marry. I shall but enjoy the company of her supposed wit and intelligence. No more.”

“Who is this poor paragon of wit, intelligence, and beauty?”

“I cannot say. However, I do know she is to visit for two months. If she is disagreeable, you might find yourself with an extra guest at Pemberley. Have Mrs. Reynolds ready my room.”

*I hope you enjoyed this excerpt, and seek out opportunities  in your own life to help ‘Harvest Friendship.’

*The Goodness of Men is available on Amazon.

*Cover photos by Paige Lampson Photography