Release Celebration for Strange Happenings

Good morning, fellow readers!

It is release day for Strange Happenings at Longbourn. I’m here today to share the first chapter and for a giveaway! You can get the book on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited now by clicking this link: Take Me to Strange Happenings! Meanwhile, please enjoy the first chapter of my latest work.

“Give it back, Lydia! I know you took it!”

Catherine Bennet—called Kitty by all who knew her—charged down the long hallway of the family wing, the frills of her day dress fluttering behind her like a distressed banner. Her cheeks were red, not merely with exertion but from tears that streamed freely, unchecked. Her voice cracked with frustration, and her eyes shimmered with fury and hurt.

“I did not take your stupid locket,” Lydia Bennet snapped, her tone imperious despite the flush of guilt—or was it indignation?—on her youthful face. She ducked beneath Kitty’s reaching hand and darted towards the threshold of her own chamber.

In her haste and preoccupation, Lydia never noticed Elizabeth stepping from her bedchamber into the hallway. The two collided with a thud. Elizabeth stumbled but kept her footing, catching Lydia by the shoulders to steady them both.

“Lydia! Kitty!” Elizabeth’s sharp voice cut through the clamor like a well-honed blade. “What on earth is the meaning of this behavior? Dashing about like unruly children—have you lost all decorum?”

Kitty halted, fists clenched and chest heaving with sobs. “She stole my locket!” she cried. “The one Aunt Gardiner brought me from London! I know she took it—I just know it! She’s probably hidden it somewhere and will wait a fortnight to wear it and claim it was always hers.”

Lydia, ever quick to defend herself and twice as quick to go on the offensive, drew herself up in indignation. “I did not take your horrid little trinket! It is hideous and plain—I would sooner wear Papa’s cravat to church than that dull chain around my neck.”

Elizabeth arched a brow. “You did not say so when it was gifted. If I remember correctly, you voiced a very public complaint about only receiving a painted fan, one which you promptly snapped in half during a tantrum.”

“I was angry because Aunt Gardiner did not favor me similarly,” Lydia said, her chin lifting stubbornly. “She gives Kitty something dainty and leaves me with scraps!”

Kitty’s arms crossed tightly over her chest, her voice low and bitter. “It is always this way. If anything goes missing, no matter how small, Lydia denies it and blames someone else, and Mama believes her without question. She could walk in wearing my locket and claim it fell from the sky, and Mama would nod in agreement.”

Lydia stomped her foot, cheeks burning now with full-fledged outrage. “I am always blamed! For Kitty’s lost handkerchiefs, for your bonnet—” she turned to Elizabeth, her eyes wide and desperate—“even for things I have not touched!”

Elizabeth’s gaze softened slightly. “You took my bonnet just last week, dearest. Let us not rewrite history.”

“But I told you the truth about that!” Lydia exclaimed, her tone pleading now. “I wore it out and returned it. And I did not lie. I only—borrowed it. I did not claim it as my own. Not this time.”

Elizabeth hesitated. Lydia’s brown eyes, wide and shimmering with conviction, met hers unflinchingly. The younger girl was many things—reckless, vain, thoughtless—but rarely deceptive when directly confronted. If she had taken the locket, she would likely have boasted of it or come up with some flamboyant excuse. And despite her theatrics, there was a flicker of something genuine in her protest now.

“It is not me you must convince,” Elizabeth said after a long pause. Her voice was firm, but not without sympathy. “Kitty, if you feel a wrong has been done to you, then go speak to Papa about it. Perhaps he can sort the matter more peacefully than this shrieking through the halls.”

Kitty gave a sharp sob, one hand wiping at her eyes, and stormed off with wounded pride. Lydia followed, slower, but no less irritated, muttering her innocence and flinging one final glare towards her sister. The door to their shared chamber closed with a bang, muffling the continued squabble within.

Elizabeth let out a weary sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. Another day, another tempest between her two youngest sisters. She leaned briefly against the wall, letting the silence fall once more over the hallway. It had become second nature to arbitrate their constant disputes, but even she felt the burden of it lately.

She cast one final glance towards the now-quiet corridor. Lydia’s protest had seemed unusually sincere. And the child was no stranger to mischief, but when she claimed something as her own, she did not hesitate to lord it over the wounded party—she did not deny it.

Perhaps Kitty misplaced the locket herself, Elizabeth reasoned. The girl was always tossing things onto her vanity or shoving trinkets into drawers. Still, the matter sat uneasily in her mind.

With a breath meant to clear her thoughts, she descended the stairs, bonnet tied and cloak fastened. The crisp October air would do her good—perhaps even grant her the clarity that domestic chaos could not.

She stepped out of Longbourn’s front door into the golden light of morning, unaware that the missing locket was merely the first of many odd disturbances to come.

She had much on her mind of late and wished to brood in silence. The Meryton assembly had been nearly two before. What a marvelous night spoiled by the pretentious insults of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. She despised the man! Jane urged her to forgive, rightly pointing out that Elizabeth had never even had a conversation with the gentleman. But she could not forget his comments, how he called her tolerable and not handsome enough to tempt him. 

The memory caused Elizabeth pain every time she relived it. Mr. Darcy and his words had appeared in her dreams every night since, and she wished she had the ability to banish all of it—and him—from her thoughts. Unfortunately, she often mulled over troubling things until her equanimity returned and she could let go of her anger. Elizabeth’s need to repeatedly discuss her troubled emotions wearied others. Jane was patient with the propensity, however; thus, this was the reason she was Elizabeth’s primary confidant.

She had seen him but rarely since then.

Her steps took her up the gentle slope towards the summit of Oakham Mount. It was her favorite spot within walking distance of Longbourn, and she came as often as she could. The climb provided plenty to see and sufficient exercise to calm her agitated soul. Today was no different. As she neared the summit, Elizabeth’s anticipation continued to build. She would find her favorite log, which was situated beneath two towering oaks, and—

As she crested the summit, she froze. There was someone in the little clearing. The figure turned upon hearing her approach, and Elizabeth was displeased to see it was none other than Mr. Darcy. She frowned briefly before pasting an amiable smile on her face.

“Miss…Elizabeth, is it not?” He bowed stiffly. His handsome countenance was marred by the slight scowl he wore. 

Elizabeth curtsied and nodded. “Yes, sir. I can see your time at the assembly was not all for naught.” She raised a brow and pursed her lips. “Forgive me for intruding upon your solitude. Oakham Mount is my favorite walk, and I had no notion I would find another here. There is a…tolerable… prospect towards Netherfield Park from this vantage.”

“Think nothing of it.” He did not move. Mr. Darcy’s hands were clasped tightly behind his back, and he examined her closely. Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably, unsure why his inscrutable gaze so discomposed her. “’Tolerable?’ “ He repeated the word with genuine confusion on his face. 

Elizabeth bit her lip, watching him closely. She saw the moment he understood. His expression changed from one of shock to that of the appalled and then promptly morphed again to show remorse. “I am mortified,” he said, shaking his head. “There is no excuse for such boorish behavior. Forgive me, madam, for such a gross falsehood, uttered in a fit of temper.”

She blinked, completely flummoxed by the unexpected apology. “I…I do not know what to say, Mr. Darcy. It was…unsettling to be so insulted by a man with whom I had just made an acquaintance. We had yet to exchange a few words and then…” Elizabeth shook her head. “How can I do anything but forgive you after you uttered such a polite and sincere apology?”

”I am sincere—I assure you.“ Mr. Darcy stepped forward, his expression earnest. “I had only just arrived when Bingley told me about the assembly.”

“Why did you not remain at Netherfield?” Elizabeth’s curiosity had been piqued and now needed to be satisfied.

Mr. Darcy gestured to Elizabeth’s log, and they both took a seat. She angled her body towards him, ready for his answer.

He hesitated. “I have not the talent for speaking easily with people I have just met,” he began. “Nor do I readily confide in ladies who I meet while out on a ride. That said, you strike me as an intelligent person who will understand my…dilemma.” He took a deep breath. “You see, if I had stayed at Netherfield, a certain…lady would have insisted on remaining behind with me. I chose to attend the assembly as the better of two undesirable choices.”

Elizabeth thought she understood. Had not Miss Bingley held tightly to Mr. Darcy’s arm as they entered the assembly hall? Had she not hovered around the gentleman most of the night and held her nose in the air as he danced with her? “I see,” she replied, giving him a speculative look.

“That does not excuse my intemperate words, of course,” he rushed to say. 

“No, it does not, though it explains why you might not have been fit for company. Tell me, sir, did you mean to impress my neighbors with your belief in your superiority, or is that another result of being forced into a situation not of your preference?”

Mr. Darcy grimaced. “I admit I did not care whom I offended last night. Am I to understand my…unsocial and taciturn behavior has left a poor impression on Bingley’s new neighbors?”

She chuckled quietly. “Indeed, sir, that is precisely what I meant to convey. We perceived arrogance and conceit. Am I to learn we were mistaken?”

Mr. Darcy sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. “No, I wished to be unapproachable and made every attempt to be left in peace. I should have taken the carriage back to Netherfield rather than subject people to my poor mood. In truth, my attempts at improving my manner only recently began. After a rather trying summer, I learned my pride had grown beyond its acceptable limits and turned into something distasteful.”

Elizabeth could not but marvel at the very strange and unexpected conversation she was having with Mr. Darcy. “Does pride have acceptable limits?” she asked curiously. “I have always been under the impression that pride goeth before the destruction and ought to be avoided at all costs.”

“How then is one to have pride in accomplishments?” His counterargument was sound.

“Bravo, sir! Have you many accomplishments of which to take pride?”

He nodded. “Not all are my own. I received my inheritance at a young age—just three-and-twenty—and I consider all I have done to improve upon it to be due to my own mettle and intelligence. And one always has pride in their origins.”

“I see.” She reached down and pulled a long, dead bit of grass, and began swinging it. “And you say your natural pride had changed into something less…worthy?”

He nodded. “My cousin was kind enough to point out my growing number of faults this summer. After much self-reflection, I find that he is right. I was raised with good principles but followed them in pride and conceit. My arrogance and disdain almost had a high cost.” Mr. Darcy shook his head. “Forgive me for confiding so much. It is not the done thing—we are so newly acquainted. But I thank you for listening all the same.”

“Think nothing of it, sir. I confess, until your apology just now, I had convinced myself that you were the worst sort of gentleman and it was better if I never knew you. Now I can see I may have been mistaken.“ She glanced up at him and winked. He relaxed as he realized it was all a jest. “Perhaps we might begin again.”

“That sounds agreeable.” He bowed his head. “Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, at your service.”

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” she returned. “Shall we be friends?”

He nodded in agreement.

“Careful, sir, you have no notion of what you have just agreed.” She smiled mischievously. “I hope your attempts at change extend to giving leniency to my family. I warn you now, they can be a trial.”

“We all have family of whom we might blush,” came his reply.

“Nicely done! Well, sir, I have kept you from enjoying your morning.” She stood, and he did likewise. “It was a pleasure—and I can say that with all honesty. Until we meet again!”

He repeated the sentiment, and Elizabeth could feel his stare on her back as she walked away. Unexpected as his apology was, it went a long way in erasing her resentment. Perhaps Mr. Darcy is worth knowing after all.

I love it when Darcy makes amends early in the story! Do you? Drop your answer below to enter to win an ebook copy of Strange Happenings at Longbourn. Thank you for reading!

Cheers,

MJ