Sneak Peek: Allow Me to Tell You

Hello everyone,

I would have like to put up some pictures of blossoms from my area in Surrey, but alas, spring has sent us a mixed bag of snow and cold winds, so there’s no chance of it.  But at least this section of the WIP has a spring setting — and a proposal.

This excerpt from Allow Me to Tell You is a continuation of the first short piece I posted last week here. I hope you enjoy it.

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When Darcy woke up, it was already daytime. The sun was like a halo around the velvet curtains. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and looked at the clock over the mantlepiece, realizing with horror it was almost eight o’clock. This is when he usually met with Elizabeth in the grove. Why did he have to oversleep today? He always rose sharply at half-past six. Of all the days to change his habit!

He threw on his clothes, dressing quickly and carelessly. There was no time to summon his valet to shave him. It would mean having to wait another day. He would come back and shave later. It would certainly not matter to Elizabeth. She would be too preoccupied with the letter to notice the hint of stubble on his face.

He practically ran down the stairs and then through the grounds at Rosings until he reached the grove where Elizabeth liked to take her daily walk. It was a glorious morning. Fate was bestowing its blessing on him. After all, this was England, and the weather was rarely so obliging. A cerulean sky, pink apple blossoms, and white anemones provided the backdrop to the event. It was the perfect stage for their encounter. He clutched the letter close to his side, ensuring it did not flutter away in a sudden gust of wind, or drop to the ground and get spattered with mud.

Darcy’s spirits were humming in anticipation. The sound of a lark filled the air, the notes trilling and dipping in joy. In a few more minutes, his heart would be soaring like the lark’s. Only a few pages of writing stood between this moment and his dearest desire. As he searched through the trees for his future wife, he made sure his cravat was straight. Dew had settled on his boots in little droplets and he wiped them off with his kerchief.

A niggling feeling told him it might have been better if he had memorized the words he had written. Well, it was too late now. There was no point in postponing his happiness for something so insignificant. It mattered little in the end. The result would be the same. They would soon be engaged, and all would be well.

He caught a glimpse of white muslin between the trees and his pulse picked up speed. Resolutely, he moved in the direction of her graceful figure. Then, abruptly, he heard voices, and identified Colonel Fitzwilliam’s deep tones. As bad luck would have it, Elizabeth was conversing with his cousin Richard.

“There were some strong objections to the lady,” the colonel was saying.

Darcy held back. He could not very well deliver the letter in front of his cousin. It would have to wait. Hoping his cousin was not planning to accompany Elizabeth all the way to the house, he racked his brain, trying to think of an excuse to interrupt them.

As luck would have it, Richard bowed and took his leave. This was his chance. In a few long strides, Darcy caught up with Elizabeth.

“Miss Bennet.”

She turned and gave a quick curtsey as he approached.

“It is a fine day, is it not?”

“It is. But if you will excuse me, Mr. Darcy. I can feel a headache coming on. I need to return to the parsonage.”

She gave a quick nod of her head and walked away.

Briefly, he was at a loss what to do. Should he give her the letter, or would it be better to wait until she was feeling better? An instant later, he decided his proposal would cheer her spirits and drive away the headache.

“Miss Elizabeth, please wait!”

She turned to face him.

“What is it, Mr. Darcy?”

She seemed vexed that he had stopped her.

He held out the folded paper. “I have been walking in the grove for some time in the hope of meeting you. Will you do me the honor of reading this letter?”

She took it, her brow furrowing. He waited for a coy expression or one of delight. Instead, she threw him a puzzled look. Surely, she must have deduced the content?

Darcy stood at her shoulder as she unfolded it. He could barely restrain his impatience as she began to read. From where he was standing, he could only vaguely make out the words. Not that he needed to read them. They were stamped into his mind. He followed along with her, alternating his gaze between the page and her face, imagining her joy when she reached the end.

The parsonage at Hunsford

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I hope you enjoyed this little tidbit from my new novel. Do you think Elizabeth’s headache is going to improve?