The Greatest Risk-A Work in Progress

Years ago, while wandering through Google Maps searching for a particular spot in Canterbury, I came across an old abandoned abbey close to the cathedral. Scrolling through some pictures, there was a small alcove with a little ledge. I stared at the picture for only a moment when an image of Elizabeth Bennet sitting there in the moonlight concealed from a frustrated Darcy popped into my head. And that is how the story, The Greatest Risk, began to take shape.

Of course, questions immediately started to flood my mind: Why are they in Canterbury? How did they both get to the same place? Why is Elizabeth unobserved by Darcy? How can I get them out of the situation unscathed so the quick compromise trope won’t happen? Things slowly began to fall into place.

The story begins within 24 hours of Darcy finding his devastated sister at Ramsgate, and he needed to

Canterbury Cathedral. Located in Canterbury, Kent, England, UK. Original public domain image from Wikimedia Commons

unburden his soul. So he did, to ‘Nobody,’ a genteel looking young woman whose name he did not know. Unaware of his identity, she listened without judgment, something he had not experienced in many years.

They parted amiably, never revealing their identities, nor with the notion of ever being in each other’s company again, and unaware the affect they each had on the other.

Several months later, having not been to Netherfield so he could care for his sister at Pemberley, Darcy’s first day in Meryton was the evening of the Netherfield masquerade ball. Yes!!!  A masquerade!

The following excerpt is the beginning of Chapter 4, where Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam are preparing for the ball.

Please forgive the RAWNESS of the text. I am so excited to share it with you, and have been so busy with life, I haven’t had a chance to truly edit it. 🙂

It had already been a tedious day. With preparations for the ball taking up so much of Miss Bingley’s time, Darcy was certain he was safe from her attentions, but it was not to be. She had found him; found him and simpered about how wonderful the musicians would be, and how she was looking forward to opening the ball this evening until he could finally extricate himself.

There was a knock at his door, and he leaned back in his chair.

“Enter.”

Richard Fitzwilliam entered, and quickly closed the door behind him. “Where have you been all day?” he asked, sitting in the large overstuffed chair and leaning his head back to look at the ceiling. “No need to tell me. It is obvious you have been attempting to avoid a certain friend’s sister.”

“Who are you? Henry the eighth?”

“Of course,” Richard replied, fluffing the white silk ruffles upon his chest before straightening his doublet. “I am going to find six different wives tonight, but will not behead a one. But beheading a wife brings me back to our original topic, and I believe your thanks are in order.”

“Why would I thank you for beheading a wife?”

“Not a wife, but one who wishes to be, for I have already claimed the first dance with Miss Bingley and know that her costume for the masquerade will be Marie Antoinette.”

“That is macabre.”

Richard chuckled. “I believe she is attempting to show a certain gentleman from Derbyshire she is of a royal disposition and would make an excellent wife.”

Darcy sniffed. “Why is it that people believe they know who would be the perfect companion for me? Our aunt Lady Catherine with our cousin Anne? Miss Bingley with herself? Do they not imagine if I wanted to make either of them my wife I would have done so by now?” He grumbled as his valet Briggs tied the laurel leaf around his head. “I am a man of eight and twenty, not some green boy fresh from Cambridge!”

“No need to convince me, cousin.” The two fell silent as Darcy tamped down his exasperation as his man continued to dress him. “Who are you wearing to the masque? I believed you had packed the costume of an ancient Egyptian?”

“I had, and was prepared to wear it until Bingley informed his sister. I do not wish to be the object of her

pursuit all night. She will discover me soon enough, but until then I will have anonymity—”

“To hide in the corner and glare at everyone?”

Darcy was silent.

“If you truly do not wish for Miss Bingley to discover who you are until the unmasking, I suggest you behave un-Darcy like.”

“And what precisely is that?”

“You should dance with as many lovely ladies as there are dances, and behave garrulously throughout the night. That will throw her off your scent.”

Darcy was quiet as his man finished the last of his preparation. He walked to the looking glass and examined his appearance. “I cannot behave garrulously, I do not have it in me. However, you are right. I will dance tonight. Then, to be sure, no one will know I am Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley with 10,000 pounds.”

“Yes! You will just be Caesar awaiting the treachery of Brutus.”

“No, Richard. I am Odysseus trying to find my way home.”

“To Penelope?” Richard asked, as he stood next to Darcy and checked his own appearance in the mirror.

“If there is a woman out there who is perfect for me, I have never found her. My meaning was towards the end of our stay, and home to my sister and Pemberley.”

Richard slapped him on the back and they walked through the door the valet had opened towards the party. A pair of deep brown eyes sparkling in the moonlight flashed through Darcy’s mind. He forced the image aside and made his way down the stairs determined to enjoy the evening.

Thank you for taking the time to read “The Greatest Risk.” Please let me know what you thought in the comments below. Can’t wait to hear from you. 🙂