The Marriage Bargain Cover Reveal and Excerpt

Hello everyone!

I have a new book coming out in just two and a half weeks. It is called ‘The Marriage Bargain’ and is a Pride and Prejudice variation inspired by a novel by Georgette Heyer titled ‘A Civil Contract’. I came up with the plot years ago (while re-reading the Heyer story), and I am very excited to finally be sharing it with you. It is a reversal of fortunes for our couple too, with Elizabeth being wealthy and Darcy impoverished. In short, they end up making a marriage of convenience–Elizabeth gains social status and Darcy saves Pemberley and gives his sister a home. Of course, it is not quite as simple as that, but Elizabeth and Darcy do have a happily ever after.

I will share Chapter 1 with you, but first, the cover! There is a giveaway too. Comment for a chance to win one of three ebooks of The Marriage Bargain.

The cover was designed by Holly Perret of The Swoonies Romance Art (isn’t that a great name?), and here it is…

Isn’t it gorgeous? There is something so romantic about the image, and ultimately, The Marriage Bargain is a very romantic story. I can just picture Darcy and Elizabeth sharing ‘a moment’ in the gallery at Pemberley. Sigh.

On to the excerpt. I’ll post another one in two weeks (14 April) and a final one on 19 April, to celebrate the official release, which is on Monday, 18 April. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Fitzwilliam Darcy leant against the parapet and stared into the warm August night. Stars twinkled in the sky, accompanied by a bare sliver of moon. The world was still and so quiet he was certain he could hear his heart beating.

He could picture the scene as it might have been by daylight. There would be well-tended gardens full of blooms and busy with gardeners at their work. The colourful grounds, full of summer flowers and neatly-trimmed shrubs, would give way to a broad, lush lawn, then rolling hills and woods. He imagined himself walking down a neat gravel path to the stables and selecting a horse—a fine bay, perhaps, with a name chosen from the Classics—and then riding out to visit tenants or neighbours, his head held high because he was a Darcy, the master of Pemberley, the finest estate for thirty miles. People would be glad for his notice, anxious for his approbation, eager for his advice, grateful for an invitation to his home.

“Instead, I have inherited a ruin,” he murmured. Everywhere I look, the more I see to dishearten me.

Unlike his imaginings, the morning would reveal a sadly neglected estate. The grounds were in a pitiable state but not nearly as much as the manor. The situation with what few tenants remained was even worse, and Darcy could not bring himself to think about his family’s reputation in the neighbourhood or in town.

Shall I blame Great-grandfather for marrying a bride twenty years his junior and building a new house he could ill-afford only to keep her happy? Grandfather always said it ought not to have been done, that it had been too expensive, and far more than the estate could bear.

His grandfather loved to reminisce about his youth when, he maintained, everything at Pemberley had been superior, from the servants and the food, to the artwork and the quality of guests. How glorious it must have been when the creeping claw of debt could still be overlooked!

“Perhaps if he had spent less time remembering the past and more on his present, he could have done the estate some good and left it in better condition than it was when he was master.”

Again, Darcy sighed. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, trying to dispel the headache that had been his companion since his return three days earlier. Three days had been spent discovering how deeply encumbered the estate was—and how everywhere he turned, there was another problem to be addressed and not a farthing to spend addressing it. It made him ill. There was a constant burning sensation in his chest, one of anger, resentment, and shame.

Darcy had spent most of the last five years abroad, as far away as Canada, working as an agent of the government. His godfather, Alexander Ryde, the Earl of Halsley, had secured the position for him. Darcy had left England for two reasons: his increasingly acrimonious relationship with his father, and his need to earn money. George Darcy, too proud to admit his only son and heir could not rely on support from the estate, had refused to allow him to adopt a career, such as the law, that would have permitted him to remain in England. The two men had argued more and more after his mother’s death. Darcy had wanted to assume more responsibility in the management of the estate, helping to right its finances and restore it to what it should be. His father had taken the request as an indictment against his intelligence and abilities.

If only I could go back to correct the errors I made, Darcy reflected as he had many times before. If I had done things differently, approached my father in another manner so he would accept my assistance, or talked to my mother about the damage she was doing to the estate. If I had been a better son, and she had found comfort in being my mother rather than endlessly fussing over her appearance and that of the house, burying her discontent by spending money we did not have.

Swallowing his bitterness, he resumed his study of the night, hoping it would calm him enough to allow him to sleep. All he managed was to slip into a waking dream of returning Pemberley to its former glory.

Is it not what I have longed to do since I was an adolescent—correct the mismanagement and waste I saw all around me and one day see these lands and this house as my grandfather described? Have I not longed to make Pemberley a place of which I could be proud? Future generations of Darcys would praise me for saving our heritage and restoring our honour.

Aloud, he said, “I must try. It is my duty. There have been Darcys here for hundreds of years, and I cannot be the one to give it up.”

With another sigh, he turned his back on the night, collected the single lit candle in the worn drawing room, and sought his bed, praying he would sleep for at least a few hours.

* * *

Two weeks later, Darcy travelled towards London, with a planned stop along the way to see old friends. His first stop was at Northlands, situated some fifteen miles from Pemberley. Charles Bingley had been a dear friend since they met at school when they were ten years old. Darcy’s parents had disapproved of the friendship because of Bingley’s close association to trade. They had not wished him to visit Northlands but the summer he was seventeen, Darcy decided he no longer cared about their opinions. After a singularly exasperating week spent witnessing careless extravagance at Pemberley, he took a horse to Northlands, leaving word he would return in several days. Bingley said to come whenever he liked and told him he would always be welcome. It was then he met Bingley’s father and sister, Caroline, who was ten years old. Darcy envied the Bingleys’ happy family and wished his own was half as content.

Darcy visited Northlands frequently in the following years. He often felt driven away from Pemberley by his deteriorating relationship with his father and anger towards his mother, who was indifferent to every entreaty to retrench. Always, she insisted, and no matter the cost, Pemberley must be presented as a stately country manor of an ancient family whose mistress was the daughter of an earl. Darcy had seen how much his mother had spent on furnishings, entertaining, and her wardrobe, and it made him want to roar with frustration.

No purpose was served by dwelling on it. His mother was dead these eight years. What any of them ought to have done to control past expenditures mattered not. Considering it only distracted him from what he needed to do to save Pemberley.

Northlands was not a large estate; it brought in a little over two thousand pounds a year. What I would not give to have even that much, Darcy thought grimly, or to be free of debt, as Bingley is. He roughly pushed aside his jealousy. His friend did not deserve it. Bingley’s late father bought the estate after selling his business in Derby with the intention of establishing himself and his then eight-year-old son as gentlemen. Bingley lived there with his younger sister.

The two men sat in Bingley’s disorderly but comfortable study. The opened windows let in a refreshing breeze on such a warm day. They removed their jackets, and Bingley sat on a sofa with a glass of lemonade in his hand, his feet on the table. Darcy was across from him on an overstuffed chair. He had arrived a little more than an hour earlier and had been telling his friend what he discovered at Pemberley. As he spoke, Bingley grimaced, his features crumpled in sympathy.

“What a shambles!” Bingley’s amber curls swayed as he shook his head. “Even worse than you thought, eh?”

Darcy nodded and ran his finger through the condensation on his glass. “I am afraid so.”

“I am sorry to hear it, Darcy, but you are a bright chap. You will sort it out. What do you plan to do now?”

Darcy shrugged. “I would like to stay in England, for Georgiana’s sake if nothing else.” His sister, who was but fifteen years old, lived with their uncle and aunt, Lord and Lady Servington. “I shall seek Lord Halsley’s advice. I go to him when I leave you.”

“Caroline has been anticipating you being home again. She is set on you remaining in England.” Bingley leant towards Darcy and waved his hands in a vague gesture. “You know Caroline thinks you and she… Your father would never have stood for it, but since…”

Darcy ran a hand over his face.

Bingley produced a lopsided grin. “I have told her you are not in a position to marry, or at least not to marry her, if even you wished to make her your wife. But you know Caroline. She is as stubborn as she is beautiful. Her five thousand is not sufficient to open every door to her, not with our father having been a factory owner. I know it, every sensible person in the kingdom knows it, but be that as it may, my sister…” He threw up his hands as though asking what he could do about her lack of acceptance of her situation in life. “The estate is doing well enough, but I cannot add to her portion. Father made sure she had everything she needs to pass herself off as a respectable young lady—education and what have you—and hoped it would be enough to secure her a good marriage. If she did not set her sights so high, she would be married by now. But then, she has convinced herself no one could suit her better than you.”

What a tempting notion. When he saw her last, two and a half years before, Darcy had developed a tendre for her. At seventeen and just entering society, Caroline Bingley had been everything a young lady should be, and more. She was extraordinarily beautiful and gentle and kind. Had he the means to properly support a wife, he might have proposed to her, even knowing his father would never approve or accept her as his daughter-in-law. It would not have been a good match for him, but for her, he would have overlooked every disadvantage. Besides, he had the greatest respect for the late Mr Bingley, and Bingley was his dearest friend; that must lessen the social chasm between them.

However, given the state of his finances, such a step would have been unwise. He could not have offered her the comfort she deserved, especially knowing they would be unwelcome at Pemberley. Darcy knew, should he marry, he must consider money. Caroline’s five thousand was not enough; too soon would it be lost to cover Pemberley’s costs and his debts. While he thought of her fondly even now, he prayed the feelings he once had for her were banished. They would do neither of them any good.

“I do not know what to say, Bingley. I cannot afford a wife under the current circumstances.”

His expression sober, Bingley nodded. “I understand. Caroline may be another matter.”

* * *

When Caroline joined them a short while later, Darcy knew immediately that his affection for her had not abated. Staring into her large, bright blue eyes, with her fair skin framed by silky blonde hair and her delicate hand resting on his arm, warmth ran from his toes all the way up his body to the back of his neck. She was not only the loveliest lady he had ever met, but also the most charming. When he was with her, it felt as if his worries diminished, and the world was a happier place, full of possibilities. If only he could grab onto that imaginary existence, be the man who lived in it—not the one cursed to remain in this life, but a Darcy who was rich and respected and who could have whatever he wanted simply for the asking—then he would be a gentleman she deserved. Her lack of fortune and connexions would not matter, because he would have enough for them.

Apart from her beauty, they shared a certain sameness of mind and similar tastes. Even though he told himself that Caroline Bingley was everything he could want in a wife, their union was impossible.

Bingley returned to the sofa, placing Caroline beside him.

“Darcy,” she said, her voice a caress. “I am so glad to see you again. How could you stay away all this time? Why did you wait so long after your father’s death to return?”

“I came as quickly as I could once the news reached me. There were some negotiations and other work I had to finish before I could leave since I could not say when, or if, I would return. The journey from Upper Canada took longer than expected.”

She pouted, but seemed to accept his explanation. “Well, you are here now, and you will stay. That work nonsense is finally behind you. Charles said you intended to remain at Northlands only two days, but you cannot leave so soon, not after such an absence! A fortnight—no, a month! I insist you extend your visit.”

Oh, how he wanted to succumb to the pleading in her eyes!

“Caroline.” Bingley’s voice held reproof. “Darcy has other people to see, including his sister. He went directly to Pemberley and has only come to see us on his way to town.”

“Dear Pemberley.” Caroline’s eyes remained on Darcy. Although he did not mind, he knew he ought to put distance between them. “I have not been there in years. When can we go? If you stayed with me longer, as you must, we could drive over one day.”

His eyebrows shot up, but he managed to suppress his disgust; alarm shot through him at the notion of her, of anyone, discovering how bad things were at Pemberley. To be sure, there was enough talk about his family sinking into disrepute. If word got out about how deeply in debt he was, it would compound their aversion. “I am afraid you would not find it as agreeable as you remember. It is in a shocking state of disrepair.”

Even when she and Bingley had gone to Pemberley—Darcy’s father was absent for some reason he could not recall—he had been uneasy showing them the estate, knowing it should be so much finer than it was. The years since that visit had brought further decay.

“You will put it to rights again. I remember how you used to talk about what you would do if Pemberley was yours to manage. Now it is.”

Bingley snorted. “It will not be as simple as that, Caroline. It takes money to repair roofs and—”

Caroline brushed his words away with a sweep of her hand. “Charles, you are being entirely too tedious and stern, and Darcy has just arrived!”

Darcy almost laughed at such a characterisation of his friend but did not when Bingley guffawed and Caroline’s cheeks flushed. It seemed evident Caroline was teasing, but her brother apparently did not see it.

Turning away from Bingley to him, Caroline said, “I am determined to keep you with us for at least a fortnight. It is my birthday next week. If you say you have forgotten, I shall not believe it. You must be here to celebrate with us. We shall have a party, and you will be our honoured guest. I anticipate seeing what gift you have for me.”

Her sweet smile only augmented his discomfort. Darcy felt stupid—he had not remembered—and was embarrassed, even a touch irritated, if he was honest. He had returned home in mourning for his father, without a penny to spend on anything apart from the barest necessities. There was no gift for his own sister, let alone one for the sister of a friend, which was all Caroline could ever be to him. He started to slip down in his chair, his limbs and head suddenly heavy, but forced his spine to remain rigid and his posture upright.

Bingley rolled his eyes and admonished his sister. “Really, you are the most ridiculous creature I have ever met. Darcy has other obligations, and only a silly child would expect him to have a present for her under the circumstances. What time is it?” He patted his waistcoat pockets. “Forgot my watch again. Well, my stomach says it is nearing dinner. I am famished. Darcy, let me show you to your apartment. You have not had a chance to change after your journey. Caroline, we shall see you in the drawing room in an hour.”

I suspect there might be a question or two. 🙂 I promise, I do make everything right between Elizabeth and Darcy! We (and Darcy) will meet Elizabeth next time.

Remember to comment (by 6 April) for a chance to win an ebook of The Marriage Bargain. The Marriage Bargain will be released on 18 April via Amazon. (paperback, ebook, Kindle Unlimited).  There will also be an audiobook version, but I don’t have a release date for it yet.

Have a wonderful day!

Lucy