Preview of Coming Attraction

Today, I’m sharing an excerpt from my new P&P story!  At 63 pages, it’s either a very long short story or a short novella. It’s essentially finished, but since it’s presented in a Christmas framework, I will probably wait to publish it until closer to the end of the year.

Technically, it’s fantasy, I guess – glimpses across time, ghostly visitation,  or was it only a dream? – which you might not expect from me. Title? I’m planning on It’s a Wonderful Life, Mr. Darcy, because of the basic premise. Think your life doesn’t matter, Mr. Darcy? Well, here’s what the world would be like if you’d never been born.

I had so much fun puzzling out this fanciful “what if?” And I hope you will enjoy it too. Here’s how the story begins:

Prologue

It is Christmas evening – my first of many happy Christmases with Elizabeth, God willing – and we have dear friends gathered to Pemberley to share it with us. Georgiana is here, of course, and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mr. Bingley and Jane have come, as well as the entire Gardiner family. I glance at Elizabeth, who sits by my side, her hand tucked in mine. We exchange contented smiles.

It has been a full day. We woke to a blanket of white resting an inch or two thick on the ground – enough to delight everybody but not enough to create much inconvenience. So we were still able to safely reach Kympton to attend divine services on this holy day. Afterward, the Gardiner children played on the lawn, throwing snowballs and building what they could with the limited supply of snow. Some of the adults braved the chilly air again as well, joining in the children’s play or just strolling about in the wintery scene, all of us bundled in boots, layers of clothing, and our warmest coats, hats, and gloves.

Indoors, there have been games and conversation, along with good things to eat morning, noon, and night: hearty but simple fare for the most part, much of it prepared yesterday to lighten the load on the servants today, a few of whom volunteered to remain on duty. But most – anybody with family in the area – have gone off for their own Christmas celebrations.

Now I can see through the drawing room windows that the sky is painted with more pink and orange hues than blues. The day is coming to a close. As I look about myself, at my comfortable home and the happy faces of my dear ones, I know I am the most fortunate of men. So I cannot quite account for what happened last night, the night of Christmas Eve.

Elizabeth lay sleeping peacefully beside me, her warmth merged with my own beneath the covers. By the waning firelight, I could still see the lines of her face and the fall of her dark hair tumbled down across her shoulders. So all was as it should be. But for some reason, I could not rest. Perhaps to remind myself by contrast to be truly grateful for all my blessings, my mind drifted back to a darker period more than eight months ago, to this past April.

Elizabeth had just refused my first dismal proposal, and I still cannot begin to explain the episode that followed. Was it real or only some kind of an extraordinary dream? I suppose one could rightfully call it a nightmare except for what I learned by it. A painful event, once survived, may be counted a treasure if it proves to have been of tremendous value in the end.

This experience certainly was – a valuable treasure, that is. In truth, it was a great gift, one I shall never forget. Christmas is a time of gift giving, is it not? Perhaps that is why the odd episode came to my mind again last night. But if not a mere dream or even a nightmare, what shall I call it?

It was a visitation.

So there you have it, the first two pages of this long short story! What do you think? Are you intrigued?