Mr. Darcy and the Governess Pre-Launch and Giveaway

It seems I’ve been storing it all up! I’m back today with an update about another Darcy and Elizabeth story that has me giddy and giggling. I do love a bit of good banter between these two. But here’s some news: Mr. Darcy and the Governess is scheduled to release on September 26! 

This is a bit of a rollicking comedy/adventure story, but it’s filled with all kinds of sweetness, too. Darcy is SUCH a hero in this one! My goodness, I have to fan myself as I write. That man… (insert dreamy sigh).

Well, no point in me just swooning over Darcy. You don’t need my help to do that. I’ll drop the cover and blurb, and then you can follow along for a short preview!

Be sure to stay tuned afterward for details on the giveaway!

Darcy’s mission was clear: decipher Napoleon’s intentions and prevent another war. But when Elizabeth Bennet unexpectedly enters the fray, priorities shift, and love becomes the most intricate mission of all.

Fitzwilliam Darcy’s wounded heart has yet to recover from Elizabeth Bennet’s rejection. He wants nothing more than to retreat to Scotland to be left alone. But when a call to duty beckons from his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, he’s propelled into an intricate game of deception and diplomacy. Napoleon Bonaparte, the exiled tyrant, holds Europe in suspense from his secluded island of Elba. As British officials grow complacent, entranced by Napoleon’s charisma, Colonel Fitzwilliam believes that only Darcy has the discernment and the determination to uncover the truth of the despot’s intentions.

Elizabeth Bennet’s world crumbles around her – a scandalous elopement, the impending loss of Longbourn, and the revelation of her spurned marriage proposal. Desperate for independence and a fresh start, she takes on a role as a governess to the affluent yet unruly Holt children. However, fate has more in store for her than she could have imagined. The Holt family’s unexpected journey to Italy and their rumored fascination with Napoleon plunge Elizabeth into a world of intrigue and danger.

As Darcy works to decipher Napoleon’s schemes, the last person he expects to encounter is Elizabeth, now entwined in her own web of chaos. And when war threatens once again, he finds himself torn between duty to his country and the fierce drive to protect Elizabeth and her young charges.

In a world at the brink of war, can old wounds be mended and new alliances formed?

What do you think? And if you’re wondering how Darcy reacts when he discovers Elizabeth bound for Elba, well… keep reading for an excerpt from Chapter Five.

Darcy

I awoke with a start, smacking my head on the bottom of the narrow berth above me. “Ugh…” I pinched my nose and lay back, trying to let my eyes adjust, but it was no use. There was nothing to see but a wall and a board six inches above my nose. I groaned and rolled to the floor, where at least I could feel my feet again.

My heart was still racing, my shirt drenched in sweat. The remnants of a vivid dream clung to my mind, refusing to dissipate. In that sweet reverie, I’d found myself back at Rosings Park, in April. The grand drawing room came alive, filled with the sound of Elizabeth’s laughter and the music of the pianoforte.

She was bent studiously over the keys, the tip of her tongue peeking through her lips as she worked out a tricky bit of the music. Then she was smiling at the room as she deflected some comment from Lady Catherine, and in such a subtle way that I alone perceived her amusement. At last, her eyes lifted to mine, the gentle twist of her lips betraying her true thoughts… thoughts that she would share with none but me…

Curse it all, I was a fool! Bitterness washed over me as I raged against my own weakness for allowing her image to seep into my thoughts again, even in slumber. Would I never be free of this torment? I shook my head, determined to banish the lingering traces of that tantalizing illusion.

The rocking of the ship mocked all my attempts at equilibrium. I rubbed my temples, trying to calm the seasickness that had churned my stomach since we left the harbor the night before. Every rise and fall of the vessel intensified my discomfort, amplifying the smells that permeated the air. The tang of saltwater mingled with the damp wood, while the pungent odors of the sailors and their meals filled my nostrils. The ship had become a sensory assault, and I wanted nothing more than a pinpoint of clarity to anchor myself to.

The captain had told me that breakfast would be served on the upper deck at eight bells. In my present state, I could not imagine forcing food down my throat. Some of the men in nearby berths had advised me to take only broth. That sounded a reasonable notion, but I needed a change of air, more than anything. I pulled my coat off my bunk, tugged it over my arms, and made my way up the ladder, two decks above my stinking berth.

As I stepped into the dining area, my gaze swept over the room, weariness aching in every bone and sinew. The captain had not exaggerated when he spoke of the need for a strong constitution on this voyage. With the ship’s incessant pitching and yawing, and my own unfamiliarity with the sea, the only moments I’d caught any slumber at all had been lavishly tormented by visions of Elizabeth. Far from restful. I hadn’t the stomach for the salt pork and boiled eggs, but a few bites of oatmeal might rebuild my strength and set my head right.

The low hum of conversations blended with the clinking of cutlery and the occasional burst of laughter. I eased into a seat, nodding at the gentleman nearest me, but scarcely glancing up at anyone else. The conversation was too much, the noise too much. My hand shaking, I poured a cup of tea and tried to tune out all else. Yet, amidst the cacophony, a sharp gasp pierced the air, cutting through the background noise like a clarion call. My eyes snapped up, drawn to the sudden commotion.

Before me, a woman sprang from her seat and was spinning away in a twirl of petticoats. With a mixture of urgency and desperation, she sought to whisk two young girls away from the table. The girls resisted, their voices rising above the ambient murmurs. My eyes were dull, my senses still thick and numb, but the unexpected scene captivated my attention—curiosity and instinctive recognition coursing through my veins. And then, as if the world had shifted on its axis, the woman turned, her gaze meeting mine.

Elizabeth!

The very ocean itself drew to a standstill, the tableau frozen in an eternal moment of recognition. The breath caught in my chest, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. Our eyes locked, and a jolt of fire shot through me, reigniting embers I had desperately tried to extinguish. I jerked to my feet, my lips parted; ready to utter her name, to bridge the expanse of months and separation with a single word.

But before I could shape the syllables, the ship lurched violently, propelling me off balance. My reflexes fought to steady myself, my fingers gripping the edge of the table, knuckles turning white with the effort. And when I finally regained my balance, when I dared to look up once more, Elizabeth had vanished.

I staggered with the rocking of the ship, my mouth agape in stunned silence. Had I truly seen her? I glanced around the dining room, but no one else seemed to be troubled by the disappearance of a woman and two children.

“Who was that?” I cried. “Anyone! Does anyone know that woman?”

A few shook their heads, but one woman sputtered. “That’d be Lord Holt’s unholy brood—as they say. We saw them when we boarded. Near to knocked me over, they did.”

“Holt,” I repeated. The name meant little to me. Surely some relatives of hers… please God she had not married this Lord Holt! No, she would never… she couldn’t. She belonged with me. But my voice croaked unsteadily when I barked, “Where is their cabin?”

Shrugs and empty gazes were my only answer. I hissed as I tossed my napkin on the table and tried to squeeze out the door, the way I had come. But Elizabeth—if that was really her—had gone out the door on the far side of the table, fleeing into the labyrinth of corridors on the lower deck. Panic swelled in my heart. How was I to find her?

Had I merely taken a breath, stilled my mind for a moment, reason might have prevailed. She could not be far, and surely, someone on board would know about her. But reason was the farthest quality from my brain at the moment. I spun round at the sound of a door slamming somewhere below, and my feet clattered after the noise. Was it truly her, or had I merely imagined her presence? Could it be that I had conjured her from the depths of my longing, only to have her vanish like a phantom?

I quickened my pace, calling out her name, my voice reverberating through the narrow corridors.

“Elizabeth! Wait!”

The ship’s constant rocking tested my balance, the dim lighting casting eerie shadows upon the walls. The flickering lanterns seemed to taunt me, their dancing glow playing tricks on my eyes. Doubt crept in, whispering insidious thoughts. Was it a cruel illusion? A figment of my imagination?

But Elizabeth herself had diagnosed my greatest flaw—I was too obstinate to quit, least of all now. Around each corner, I expected to stumble into her. Once, I caught sight of what looked like the crown of a woman’s head descending the ladder, but the instant I gained the opening, the ladder was bare. The corridors extended like a maze, hiding secrets and plying me with false hope.

The ship’s other occupants—sailors and passengers alike—cast curious glances my way, but I never slowed. I continued to call out Elizabeth’s name, my voice echoing through the corridor like a desperate plea. Was I chasing a mere ghost?

But then, a sudden commotion erupted nearby. In the chaos of the ship’s incessant rocking, I caught a glimpse of a small figure hurtling towards me. Before I could react, a dash of red hair shot across my path. For an instant, my mind recalled the mischievous girl who had been the cause of so much havoc the day before. But then my feet went out from under me.

The impact sent shockwaves through my body. I stumbled, my limbs flailing in an attempt to regain my balance, but the deck seemed to tilt beneath my feet. The world spun around me, disorienting and unforgiving.

And then, I shook hands with the force known as gravity. My body pitched forward, and my head connected with the wooden boards of the ship. A sharp, searing pain radiated through my skull, momentarily eclipsing all other sensations. The world blurred, shifting into darkness as a shroud of unconsciousness enveloped me. Time slipped away, erased by the throbbing ache that pulsated through my head. Brief flashes of sound and movement danced at the periphery of my fading consciousness, a cacophony of voices and footsteps.

After that, all went silent.

***

Elizabeth

I snatched Poppy from the corridor and yanked her into the cabin. “For the love of Pete, stay! Emily, hold her, and do not let go of her hand!”

It was the first time Emily had even attempted to cooperate—and it was probably an accident on her part—but she grabbed her younger sister and gaped at me, her eyes wide. “Who was that man chasing us?”

I sagged against the door frame and rolled my eyes up in a silent plea for strength. “He’s…” I swallowed and peered around the frame. “He’s unconscious. Good heavens. Poppy, I hope you haven’t killed him.”

Fitzwilliam Darcy was blocking the passageway, a crumpled heap of humanity, with his arms and legs all akimbo and his mouth hanging slack. One eye was half-open, and a trickle of blood on the floorboards testified to how hard he had hit his head. I rushed to kneel over him, my heart in my throat.

“Darcy!” I hissed, swatting his cheek. He made no response.

“Fitzwilliam Darcy! Wake up!” I cupped his face and squeezed, then shook his head to and fro. “Come on, you impossible man. You would be disagreeable enough to die on me right here. Are you even breathing? Wake up!” I took hold of his jacket lapels and jarred him something fearful.

I must have rattled his eyes open and shaken some air into his lungs. Perhaps I even brought him back from the dead. He spasmed and coughed, then groaned as his hands groped empty air, then landed on my cheeks.

“Eliz…” His eyes fluttered, and he groaned again.

I didn’t even bother brushing his hands from my face. For the moment, I was simply relieved that he was alive, and I would not have to explain to his family how he had perished. “What was that? Say something!”

“You… are… sitting on my… stomach,” came his hoarse whisper.

Good heavens! How had I…? My cheeks heated under the weight of his hands, and I scrambled away from him… rather clumsily, I am afraid. He barked out in pain, clutching his stomach and groin as I tottered to my feet.

“It only serves you right,” I huffed, trying to smooth back my hair. “If you had not insisted on chasing me through the ship like a madman, you would…”

Darcy’s eyes were fixed dazedly on my face as I scolded him with the first few words, but then they crossed and he rolled over on his side. And vomited.

I massaged my temples and fought to take a few slow breaths, but the very air was sour. And now the floor was slippery.

“Oh, for the love of all things holy!” I exclaimed, recoiling as Darcy retched on the floor. The stench assaulted my senses, and I couldn’t help but gag in response. “Not on the floor, you provoking man!”

He held his stomach and moaned, then his head turned, his eyes rolled up to me, and he tried to smile.

I sighed. “You might as well get up,” I muttered, extending my hand towards him. “We shall have to find someone aboard to clean up this abomination.”

Darcy grimaced as he accepted my hand and attempted to rise. It was a clumsy endeavor, given his weakened state and the lingering effects of his fall. The ship was still heaving under our feet, too. But with some effort, he managed to stand, albeit unsteadily.

As I gingerly guided him away from the vomit-covered floor, the girls watched with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Poppy’s eyes were wide with wonder, while Emily clutched her sister’s hand, her gaze shifting between Darcy and me.

“Who is he?” Poppy whispered, her voice tinged with a hint of fear.

I glanced at Darcy, his disheveled appearance and dazed expression, and made a split-second decision. “He’s… a friend,” I replied. “Someone who… got a little too carried away in a game of chase. Don’t worry, he won’t harm us.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as she looked at Darcy. “Are you sure, Miss?”

“Positive. Now, let’s get him into our cabin. We can clean him up there. You and Poppy sit down on Bea’s bunk with her, so we can make some space for Mr. Darcy.”

I led Darcy inside, his arm groping for my middle in a way that seemed at once desperate for my help, and also curiously intimate. I plopped him on my bunk and grabbed a damp cloth and a basin of water, gently dabbing at the blood on his forehead.

Darcy winced, his eyes fluttering open and closed. “Elizabeth… Forgive me. Miss Bennet, What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question, Mr. Darcy. I never thought to see you again, least of all on a ship bobbing through the North Atlantic like God’s plaything.”

He shook his head. “Believe me, I didn’t choose this floating purgatory willingly. I was put up to the task by—” he hissed as my cloth dabbed a particularly tender part of his scalp— “someone who sticks as close as a blister in my shoe.”

“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” I guessed.

His cheek flinched and he shot me a sheepish glance. “The very same. But what brings you here? Who are these? Someone said they were Lord Holt’s children. Er… Cousins of yours?”

A flush of embarrassment rose to my cheeks. “Oh yes, I recently discovered that I do, in fact, have noble relations. Would not Miss Bingley be pleased to hear it?”

His eyes narrowed in bewilderment. “You do?”

I scoffed and set a hand on my hip. “No, of course not. I’m their governess, for the time being.”

His attention wandered to the floor, still processing the situation. “Governess? You’ve become a governess? When? And why, in heaven’s name?”

I shrugged, returning my full concentration to his head to hide the furious blush that ran from my forehead to my chest. “Things change.”

His hand closed over mine, and he turned to murmur into my ear. “Elizabeth, I need to speak with you. Privately.”

I stiffened, my gaze dancing over the girls, still huddled together on one of the bunks. “I’m afraid now is not the time, Mr. Darcy. Surely we can locate a doctor on board to attend to your… ailments.” I wrinkled my nose. “And perhaps they will find some way for you to clean your coat.”

“It is not that, and you know it very well,” he insisted in a low voice.

I gave his head one last dab with my cloth and spoke at full volume. “There, I think the bleeding has stopped. You are very lucky, Mr. Darcy. Do try not to take another fall, for your head will only take so much abuse.”

“Miss Bennet,” he whispered. “Please, I beg of you. A few moments is all I ask.”

I let my eyes touch his for half a pulse—those deep brown eyes that had always held so much confusion and mystery for me. Then I turned away. “Girls, I must speak to someone about cleaning… this. Please, behave while I am out. And Poppy? Stay. There. I mean it.”

Mr. Darcy’s sigh of relief was audible. “Thank you,” he murmured as he got to his feet.

I flashed him a deadpan look. “I said I meant to talk to one of the crew. That is all I intend to do for now.”

His jaw tightened, disappointment flashing across his features, but he nodded. “Very well. But it is a long journey, Miss Bennet.”

Well, poor Darcy didn’t have a good day, did he? And I have a feeling it’s about to get a lot rougher, especially when he figures out what Napoleon’s really up to on Elba, and discovers that Elizabeth is going to be stranded in the middle of it. I can’t wait for September 26!

You can reserve your copy over at Amazon! <3 

 OR

Drop a comment below for a crack at an ARC

I’ll be drawing two names next week, and I’ll be reaching out to send you your free copy before launch. Good luck!