New book coming soon! Cursing Mr Darcy by Amy D’Orazio

New book coming soon for those who love their Darcy and Elizabeth with a little touch of magic!  Cursing Mr Darcy will be available at the beginning of August but you can preorder it now!

An excerpt is below– hope you enjoy it!

It was the last week of the regiment’s stay in Meryton, and all of the young ladies in the neighbourhood were drooping apace. The dejection was almost universal. The elder Miss Bennets alone were still able to eat, drink, sleep, and pursue the usual course of their employments.

On his final evening in Meryton, Mr Wickham dined at Longbourn along with several others of the officers. His gallantry towards Elizabeth had long since worn thin. Though she might have once considered him something of a favourite—and believed he thought likewise of her—his attentions had been too quickly transferred once Miss Mary King arrived in Meryton. Miss King was a sweet girl, although not very handsome. By far her greatest appeal was a recent inheritance of ten thousand pounds. Mr Wickham’s defection was so rapid, and so complete, that it left Elizabeth thinking much less of the sincerity of his charms.

But he had not broken her heart, no matter how often Lydia would insist on teasing her about it. Elizabeth was perfectly equal to the task of friendly indifference when he came to her in the family’s drawing room, enquiring of her plans for the summer.

“I shall travel with my aunt and uncle Gardiner,” she replied. “We intend to visit the Lake District and shall stop in Derbyshire to visit the places where my aunt lived as a girl.”

“At Christmastime, I remember your aunt telling me she was from Lambton,” Mr Wickham said agreeably. “She spoke very fondly of the place where I was raised—at Pemberley.”

“Oh yes. I believe she is determined to tour the estate.”

“You must not encourage it,” Mr Wickham said immediately, surprising her with his vehemence. He looked away then, turning to face the window nearest them. It was open to allow the entry of the spring breeze, and to the others in the party, that must have appeared his sole interest—a breath of fresh air. Elizabeth, however, saw true dismay upon his countenance.

After a moment, she asked gently, “Why is that, sir? When you spoke of it before, I believe you said you thought there was no place finer in all the land.”

“Is that what I said?” His gaze was still fixed on the scene outside. “I believe it once was—back when I was a boy. But things do change, and that which we remember fondly in our youth oftentimes does not bear the scrutiny of adulthood.”

The way he said so sent a surge of curiosity through Elizabeth, and before she could think better of it, she began, “From what my aunt has said—”

“If your aunt has been long away, then she cannot know what became of it.” At last, turning from the window, Mr Wickham faced her, looking inarguably sorrowful. “The last time I was there, I was sent away and ordered not to return, but I should not have wished to go back in any case. I do not think I could bear to see what Darcy has done—or rather, what has been laid to waste through his neglect.”

“Darcy? Is that the name of the family?”

Mr Wickham nodded. “Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy is the master of Pemberley and is wholly responsible for the dreadful fate that has befallen it. He is a selfish, disagreeable man who cares nothing for… Forgive me.” A dull flush appeared on his face.

Elizabeth knew she ought not to hear more of Mr Wickham’s tales. He had already spoken of the man who he had been raised alongside, the one who had grown insufferably proud, and had denied him the legacy meant for him. He had not before named him, but now even that small concession to discretion had been laid aside.

She knew she would do best not to encourage further divulgences. Nevertheless, Elizabeth said, “What is it you believe this Mr Darcy has done to Pemberley?”

“The place is in ruin. The servants have mostly gone, save for one or two who are too old to get positions elsewhere. The streams and fields are overrun with fish and game, the house is in disrepair, the gardens are filled with weeds and vines.”

“But why? What happened?”

“No one knows. Darcy simply disappeared, left behind everyone who depended upon him, Pemberley included. No one has seen hide nor hair of him since.”

Elizabeth thought about that for a moment. “Perhaps he was injured, or even killed?”

Mr Wickham shook his head. “I think not, for if he had been, somebody would have known something of the matter. Darcy has always been an excessively selfish, disdainful sort of man, and I daresay wherever he is, it is because he wishes to be there. His disappearance left many who depended upon that great house for their livelihoods in dire straits, but I doubt that is of any consequence to him.”

“He was well the last you saw him? When you were ordered off the estate?”

“It was in the year six. I had lately had my twenty-first birthday, and my benefactor, the elder Mr Darcy, was recently deceased. He always intended me for the church, but the son flatly refused to honour the father’s promise. Darcy offered me a pittance and ordered me off the land. In retrospect, it might have been a blessing in disguise, for the living would have gone away regardless when he disappeared.”

“You are likely correct,” Elizabeth agreed.

“What I do know is this—you should spare your aunt’s sentiments and urge her to put aside any notions of visiting Pemberley. Some scenes are best left to memory because what is present can only disappoint.”

“I shall advise her to consider it,” Elizabeth replied with a smile.

He reached out and briefly, lightly touched her arm. “Pray heed me, madam. Leave Pemberley to rot.”

Cursing Mr Darcy arrives August 12!