Pre-release Day Celebration: The Unexpected Heir

The week has flown by and tomorrow is the release of The Unexpected Heir. I have put an audition script up on ACX for an audiobook, and hopefully, I’ll have a good narrator for it soon. In the meantime, I have Chapter 4 just in case you’re on the fence. Tomorrow, I’ll have the links up on my website, lldiamondwrites.com,  and on social media so you can read it on KU or purchase the book.

So, first, for Chapter 4! If you have not read the chapters leading up to this one, follow the links here: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3.

Chapter 4

4^th of October 1811

Elizabeth took in a great inhalation of the brisk morning air. After being cooped up inside Longbourn for two days of rain, the freedom of walking through the fields was welcome. As volatile and capricious as her mother’s moods had become, they were worse when Elizabeth had no opportunity to escape the house and her mother’s presence. Perhaps her powers fed her mother’s instability? More than likely, Elizabeth reminded her mother of the disappointment that her second born was not the heir—as far as Mama knew anyway. When Elizabeth would visit her aunt and uncle in London, Jane would report in her letters that her mother was much improved during Elizabeth’s absence, which was why she believed it to be so. Her stomach twisted. Despite living with her mother’s disdain for so many years, the rejection still smarted.

The fields were still damp from yesterday’s light misting rain as well as this morning’s dew, but not so sodden that she sank into the mud. She had worn her older boots lest she ruin the new ones her aunt had sent from town a month ago. Regardless of Mama’s feelings towards her, she had no desire to increase her mother’s agitation, which ruining her boots would surely do.

The thudding of hoofbeats made her stop and glance about her, and as they grew louder, she whirled around as a great black steed came to a halt about five yards away from her. He was a beautiful horse, his bright white blaze and socks a stark contrast to the darkness of the rest of his body. Nevertheless, she took a step back. Her heart fluttered madly against her ribs. The beast’s proximity was unnerving.

The gentleman atop the horse dismounted and drew the reins from the horse’s head as he stepped before her. “Good morning, Miss Elizabeth.”

It was him—the gentleman from the forest. His proud bearing and tall stature helped make him recognisable, even without the cloak he wore on the equinox. The penetrating gaze of his crystal blue eyes caused a frisson within her that accompanied the sensation emanating from him that she could not identify. She could not describe it, either. It was most unusual.

“Good morning, Mr. Darcy.” She had not required an introduction that night in the forest, and she had no need of one now.

One side of his mouth curved. “Good morning, Miss Elizabeth.”

“You already wished me well, or have you forgotten so quickly?”

He smiled wider. “I have not forgotten.” He cleared his throat. “As the fields are not terribly muddy from the rain yesterday, I had thought to find some peace before my hosts demand my presence for the rest of the day, but I would enjoy your company if you are inclined to join me.”

She started and stepped back once again. “You wish me to ride with you?” Her heartbeat quickened. She liked to give the horses of Longbourn treats of apples and carrots and to brush them, but she had never taken to riding. Her own two legs were sturdy. They could take her anywhere around Meryton and Longbourn she wished to go, and if the distance was too great, a carriage was not objectionable, but she preferred the breeze to caress her cheeks and whisper in her ear. Some of her most meaningful moments were spent rambling.

“No, I thought we would walk together. I have given Hen a good run. He will be pleased with a reprieve before we return to Netherfield.”

“His name is Hen?” He named his horse for a chicken?

The gentleman chuckled and gestured towards his stallion. “Miss Elizabeth, may I present Hengroen.”

“Do you also have a mare named Llamrei?” If he had one mount named for a warhorse of King Arthur, would he also have one named for King Arthur’s own steed?

“I do, but she remains at Pemberley. She will soon birth a foal by Hen, and I would not cause her strain by bringing her so far from home when in such a delicate condition.”

While he spoke, Elizabeth tilted her head and made a study of the gentleman before her. As she had discerned on the equinox, he was quite tall and handsome. His well-tailored greatcoat fit snug across his broad shoulders and even with it on, little doubt existed that he was an active sort by the snug fit of his topcoat.

Once he had finished his explanation, she glanced in the direction of the forest. “I usually walk in Oakham Forest. Would your horse object to the woods?”

“No, I do not believe he would.”

When she turned to continue forward, he fell into step beside her. “Will we meet your white stag today?”

She lifted one shoulder. “He joins me whenever I enter the forest, and if I sit to read, he always hovers nearby until I am ready to depart.” She frowned and stopped to face him. “I do not understand why you can see him.”

“I believe your father was dumbfounded as well. I could sense the protective charms on him, but I was able to see him and let him sniff my hand.”

She stared at the forest ahead of them for a moment. None of her sisters nor her mother had ever noticed Herne, or they would have commented on his presence when they had entered Oakham Forest for the Mabon celebration.

“I believe your spell is working, even if I cannot explain why he is visible to me.”

“But I do not want him to be noticed by hunters. ’Tis why I have protected him since I first found him as a young stag.” He had been much smaller and so adorable at that time, but he had grown into a stunning creature.

He dipped his chin to catch her gaze. “He protects you as well I would say.”

“I would say we protect each other. However, he has become quite old. I do worry how many rambles we have left together. The hares would remain in Oakham Forest, but they are not my constant companions. They and the pheasants are fickle creatures who worry more about their next meal than roaming through the trees with me. They care naught for the secrets carried on the wind.”

He smiled and held out his elbow. “Well, may I offer my services to accompany you then? I vow to protect you with my life and listen with adept ears for the confidences that might be shared along the way.”

Elizabeth could not stop the huff from escaping at his vow and whirled to face him. “Why does everyone believe I require protection? First my father, then Herne, and now you. Do you not believe I can keep myself safe? Moreover, who would seek to harm me? No one knows I am the heir but Papa, Jane, our housekeeper, my old governess, and you.” That secret had been hidden well after all. The midwife who had delivered her had died a few years ago, so she took the confidence to her grave, and her governess would never tell a soul.

“I am certain you do not require anyone to guard you and keep you from harm,” said Mr. Darcy. He pivoted around to face her. “But you must understand there are those who have sensed your growing power over the years, which was why it was imperative to keep your identity hidden. You also cannot control the visions other mages may have of you. You also have to consider how many would believe a lady is the heir to one of the most powerful magical families in the world. Claiming you are the heir without protection might be dangerous enough. We have no way of knowing.

“I have no doubt in my mind that you will one day need to prove yourself—to defend yourself against evil, and if I can be of any aid to you in the endeavour, I would do so without hesitation.”

The earnestness of his expression pulled at her heart. “You do not even know me.”

His fingers ran from her temple to her jawline. “I have seen glimpses of you since I was a little boy. Your feelings, when strong enough, travelled the miles between us to me. I did not always know what had happened, but I knew if you were happy or sad, and eventually, my visions showed me you. My father then confirmed what I had come to believe: we are connected by more than the magical contract our parents signed when you were born. Have you never felt it?”

Was that the sensation she could not identify? Thus far, she had only experienced that oddity when he was nearby—

She gasped and backed away from him. “When I was five, I shut myself in my room and sobbed for two days. Hill and Papa could not make me eat. I was sad for weeks after, but I could not explain why.”

He paused for a moment. “Fifteen years ago,” he said in almost a whisper. “That happened in May—May fourteenth—did it not?”

She nodded.

“You were feeling my sadness from my mother’s death. She died in childbirth.”

Elizabeth swayed in her spot. “What of the child?”

“Georgiana lives. She is at Pemberley.”

Her palm pressed to her stomach in an effort to relieve the uneasiness within. “Three years ago, I was angry and sad all at once . . .”

Mr. Darcy swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “My father died in a carriage accident.”

Her eyes burned. “I am sorry.” How had she never known what was happening when he had understood some time ago? Papa had not given any ideas for why she was prone to those fits of emotion. She had been terrified it meant she would one day be like Mama. What could be worse or more tragic than losing her wits?

She frowned and rubbed some gooseflesh that had erupted on her arm. “In August, I was frustrated then I had a surge of anger. I have learnt to temper the mysterious emotions I have from time to time, so I held it in, but the event was no less strange.”

He cleared his throat, and his eyes darted away from hers for a moment. “I should prefer to speak of that later—when we are more assured of our privacy. I could cast spells to ensure the confidence, but I prefer to wait if you do not mind.”

“Yes, of course. I understand.” She did not really. Yet the entire connection of their emotions was a mystery as well. She would have to ask Papa if he had ever heard of the like. If so, why had he never suspected it when those things occurred? He had to know of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy’s deaths.

“Where do you wish to go today?” asked Mr. Darcy.

“Oh, I should like to walk to the stones.”

He held out his arm once again. “Then allow Hen and me to accompany you.”

They walked in silence for a bit until he released her to cross the rocks at the brook ahead of him. He followed close behind but a little slower so his horse could find his footing through the water. The quiet was not unnerving or uncomfortable, but as though they had no need to speak to understand the other, which was unsettling in and of itself.

When they emerged on the opposite side of the stream, they continued through the trees until they reached the sizeable clearing where the stones rested. Elizabeth stepped up to the altar while removing her gloves and after tucking them into the pocket of her redingote, set her bare palms upon the surface. The hum that had built up to the equinox had subsided some but had not yet returned to the gentle pitch she was accustomed to.

“Is something amiss?” asked Mr. Darcy.

“At the equinox, the altar hummed stronger than I had ever felt, and now, the vibration is still stronger than is its wont.”

His eyebrows drew down a little in the middle. “That could by influenced by a number of possibilities. Bingley and his family would not bring enough power into the area to alter the balance around the circle.”

“What of you? My father has said your family is talented in the magical arts.”

He dropped his stallion’s reins and removed his own gloves as he approached the altar and set his fingers upon the smooth stone. Much as she had done at times, he closed his eyes then opened them and shook his head.

“Perhaps if we. . .” He gestured to her hand. “May I?”

“What is it you want to do?” Butterflies erupted in her stomach as he stepped up behind her. He was not touching her back, but his chest was so close, his warmth was evident even with the chill.

“Perhaps if we combine our power to read what is amiss with the stone, we can learn more than we would alone.”

“I have never tried such magic. Have you?”

“My father and I did so to cast a charm before his death. For this, however, I would place my hand over yours, and we would both channel our energy into the source of the vibration.”

She nodded and returned her palm to the altar. When he covered her hand with his own much larger one, she inhaled sharply. Gooseflesh peppered the back of her neck at his proximity. This would not do! She needed to stop being such a silly goose.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she turned her mind to the source, doing her best to ignore the heat and power coming from Mr. Darcy’s hand over hers. She stumbled forward, her other hand landing on the surface as she fell headfirst into darkness.

Visions seemed to float in front of her until she fell headlong into the first but seemed to land on her feet. The difference in position made her dizzy. She shook herself and took in her surroundings, but she had only appeared to move to the centre of the clearing to face the altar.

Elizabeth blinked and gasped. What was before her was not what was happening in the moment. Instead, she gaped at her own figure, who stood behind the altar with Mr. Darcy standing at her right side, her father on her left. Papa stood tall and gazed at her with adoration and pride while she held her hand over the altar. She was wearing her white cloak and what appeared to be a crown of rosemary and sage. What was this ceremony, and why would she require a crown that would harness additional magic?

A hard pull yanked her from that vision and dropped her into a strange room. When she glanced about her, she gasped. Standing near the fire was Mr. Darcy with his arm wrapped around her. His opposite hand was on her rounded stomach, a gentle smile upon his features. “I care not if this is the heir,” he said. “One day, he or she will come. I am in no hurry.”

Once again, she was forced from what was happening around her and flung into another room. Wait! She stood in the far corner of Longbourn’s library. She watched as a version of herself sat with Mr. Darcy in the chairs. From the hall, a blonde gentleman entered wearing a wide grin, and she departed. Elizabeth followed the dream version of herself to the parlour where Jane stood, in front of the other Elizabeth, smiling with tears flooding her eyes. “Oh, Lizzy! I am so happy!”

All of a sudden, she was once again yanked forward to a burst of colour beneath her eyelids. “When I learnt of your existence, I sought to prevent you from claiming your full potential, but you thwarted me. But that has come to naught as you are now nothing to me. Bow before me descendant of Merlin!” The flash that struck Elizabeth in the vision caused pain to permeate her body. Bile rose from her stomach into her throat. She ripped herself away and ran to the edge of the ancient oaks to cast up her accounts.

Mr. Darcy hastened to her side and placed a hand between her shoulder blades until she was finished. He handed her his handkerchief while she remained leaning against the tree. “Are you well?”

“The light at the end was accompanied by pain.”

“I do not believe those were in any particular order,” he said. “If we start at the beginning, rosemary symbolises love, happiness, and loyalty while sage is a symbol of wisdom and immortality. Together, they can form a magical crown to aid in warding off one’s enemies and enhancing one’s own magic through their own wisdom. Obviously, we must have believed you required it, or you would not have been wearing it.

“The next seemed to be further into the future. We were in the master’s sitting room at Pemberley. What I said was true, by the way. I shall welcome whatever child regardless of ability.”

She heaved out a sob. Her mother’s vitriol was not necessarily her fault, but if Elizabeth had been a boy maybe—

“Your mother would be the same, even if you had been a boy.”

Elizabeth jolted up and stared at him. “How did you know?”

He bent some to catch her gaze. “I made an assumption. Your father shared his suspicions about your mother with my own mother and father. He recognised how her behaviour—”

“Resembled that of my grandmother’s. Yes, he has mentioned as much to me.”

“He also had some idea of what was happening even before your birth. Your sex would not have altered her future.”

Mr. Darcy took her elbow and led her to another tree where he helped her rest against the trunk. “I do not believe the next vision was relevant to the information we seek.”

She shook her head. “That was my sister Jane. I do not know how she would fit into how the stone is behaving. As I mentioned before, the final one, however, caused me pain. Whatever or whoever that was—”

“We know danger is coming. If we consider each of the scenes, I believe only the vision with your crown and the last are pertinent to the behaviour of the altar. The others have likely existed in our minds and helped ease us into what we were attempting to see. We need to speak to your father, and we need to speak to him as soon as possible.”