Twists of Fate Giveaway & Murphy’s Law: the JAFF Version

Good morning, and thanks for stopping by today as I’m callously preparing to ruin Mr Darcy’s wedding day. If you missed any of the posts on the TWISTS OF FATE blog tour, you can find them here: A ride in the rain; A fiery Mr Darcy; A very un-Hunsford-like proposal; Breaking the wall of silence and ‘Ask Me Anything!’

The book trailer gives you the premise in a nutshell, so have a quick peek if you haven’t seen it yet.

The music – English Country Garden, by Aaron Kenny – is pure magic: it’s soulful and romantic and absolutely exquisite!

So, this dreadful misunderstanding that occurs…

I think that by now you’ve guessed what brings Mr Darcy from the seventh heaven to the excerpt posted on the pre-order link on Amazon.

If you haven’t guessed yet and you’d rather not have spoilers, please skip to the comments section to enter the Giveaway.

As this is the last week of the blog tour, I’ve added 2 more Kindle copies, so now there are 5 up for grabs.

The giveaway is international and the winners will be announced in the launch post on 22 July.

But if you do like spoilers, please read on.

This excerpt was initially supposed to go up on 1 July, but then I thought, ‘Hang on a minute, this is a Friday the 13^th kind of post ;)’ (or Tuesday the 13^th, as the case may be). Why? Because – unlike Mr Darcy who was born almost a century and a half too soon – I’ve heard of Murphy’s Law (‘If anything can go wrong, it will’), and I just can’t help myself when it comes to angst and wicked plot-twists.

So I guess that my idea of Murphy’s Law, the JAFF version would be:

How do you feel about going to Longbourn now, to make merry at Mr and Mrs Darcy’s wedding breakfast? The ceremony went without a hitch, the guests are cheerful, the day was a resounding success for Mrs Bennet, and the newlyweds are preparing to set off. But first, Jane has a thoughtful present for her dearest sister:

TWISTS OF FATE

(Excerpt)

Once they had gained the still room and the door was closed behind them, Jane loosened the strings of the small velvet pouch she was carrying and produced a silver cylinder decorated with a delicate pattern of leaves, tendrils and flowers. She pressed a tiny ball, and the lid sprang open to reveal a cut-glass bottle.

“’Tis a scent bottle for your reticule,” Jane explained. “I distilled a fresh batch of your favourite scent too, but in all this excitement I almost let you go without it,” she added with a self-deprecating laugh, and went on to remedy that oversight at once.

She removed the faceted receptacle housed in the cylinder, unstoppered it and carefully filled it from a dark brown bottle retrieved from one of the shelves, while Elizabeth watched her at work, comforted by the familiar scent that filled the air, and no less by the familiar proceedings. The still room had long been their private domain, hers and Jane’s, and they had gladly taken on the task of mixing floral-scented preparations for everyone in the household. Who would assist Jane with those tasks from now on?

That was a maudlin thought, so Elizabeth sought to silence it as she kept her eyes on her sister’s handiwork. Jane sealed the brown bottle, trapping the scent within, then did likewise with the other, returned it to its silver case, and the case to its pouch.

“There, Lizzy,” she said softly. “For good luck.”

“Thank you. I shall carry it with me always,” Elizabeth promised, tears blurring her vision as she placed the exquisite gift into her reticule.

“Oh, you need not do that,” Jane tenderly protested, pressing her arm. “But it might be of use on your journey. And… tonight.”

“I… I expect it might,” Elizabeth faltered, darting her eyes upwards to meet her sister’s glance, and both of them blushed.

Jane stroked her shoulder, and her next words were but a timid whisper:

“Are you nervous?”

“A little,” Elizabeth shrugged, then gave a conscious laugh and answered truthfully. “More than a little, to be honest, but… I believe all will be well.”

“Yes,” Jane said – a quiet declaration, yet uncommonly firm – only to resume in the same breath. “You are leaving with a good man, Lizzy. We must remember that. ‘Tis my only— ‘Tis my greatest comfort,” she amended. “You married a good man, and he will treat you well.”

Elizabeth nodded, a warm smile on her lips.

“I think so, too,” she murmured. “He is a good man, and I am quite fortunate. We all are. ‘Tis a happy conclusion to our troubles – much more so than I could have possibly imagined when I stormed out of the house a se’nnight ago. Goodness,” she chuckled softly, brought up short by the notion. “It was but a se’nnight ago. How extraordinary…”

Yet Jane did not join her in marvelling at the incredibly short time in which such great changes had been wrought. Eyes narrowed into a dark look of resentment that was exceedingly unlike her, she spoke in low, hard tones:

“If there is any justice in the world, that base creature will pay! I hope his revered patroness makes his life a misery if she ever hears of his role in the affair.”

Jane knew everything, of course – she knew every detail of the wretched business. Her dearest sister had always been her confidante, her fount of wisdom and prime source of consolation. Now the sheer vindictiveness of Jane’s harsh whisper was starkly out of character as well, yet Elizabeth knew without being told that nothing but sisterly affection could have prompted Jane to depart from her forgiving ways. And although established patterns were highly reassuring, sometimes there was comfort in deviations, too.

“That would be a gratifying form of poetic justice, would it not? Even so, in your heart of hearts you will be glad to hear that I refuse to be the architect of his misfortune. Not even if I could bring myself to speak of his objectionable conduct – which I cannot. Heavens, Jane, can you imagine the mortification?” Elizabeth exclaimed and shuddered, then gave a flourish of her hand. “Nay, I am prepared to wager that he will reap what he has sown, one way or another. For one thing, he had not bargained for this outcome any more than I, and if he should rue the day, he only has himself to blame. None of this would have happened, were it not for his brazen presumption. A simple ‘No’ should have been enough for any man! He should have taken it with as much grace as he could muster, and left me be…” She flinched, then drew a sharp intake of breath. “But no more of that sickening business! I cannot bear to dwell on it for one moment longer!” she declared with fierce determination, even as her countenance crumpled at the loathsome recollection of Mr Collins’ hands on her, and those terrifying moments when it had seemed that she could not fend him off – until she had been blessed with the strength of desperation and had broken free from his vile, demeaning grip.

‘The first blessing of many,’ Elizabeth told herself as she took another calming breath – a slow and very deep one this time, then another. That was what she must do: count her blessings, each and every one of them. And, in time, the repulsive memories would fade.

Uniformly counted as one of her greatest blessings ever since Elizabeth had gained the capacity to think, Jane put her arms around her and gathered her close.

“Forgive me, Lizzy,” she tearfully whispered. “What a fool I was to bring this up!”

“You did not. I did. I spoke of storming out of the house,” Elizabeth murmured by way of reassurance as she nestled into Jane’s embrace and returned it with equal warmth.

“Even so, I should have known better—”

“Hush, dearest. Hush,” Elizabeth said softly to stem Jane’s needless self-recriminations, and they remained thus for a long, tender moment – bittersweet, yet healing – deriving great comfort from each other, just as they always had.

And both of them found a measure of rueful amusement in the fact that this, their last special moment, was brought to an abrupt end in the same fashion as many before it: the door burst open and their mother cried, “Lizzy, Jane, there you are! I have been looking everywhere for you!”

* * * * * * * * * * And if we skip to the next chapter… * * * * * * * * * *

Darcy’s thoughts and wishes leapt wildly to the night ahead as he rounded the corner and squinted in the wintry sunlight slanting through the bare trees – for the sun was conspicuously low; already lower than the treetops. Not many hours left till nightfall.

Hands clasped behind his back, he drew to a halt beside a bushy evergreen and gave free rein to unruly thoughts, unwise as it might have been to court outright indiscipline. After all, he would still have to make it through some six or seven hours more, until his red-hot imaginings would be fulfilled. Even so, he willingly indulged them – and when the soft murmur of a disembodied voice reached him, he was disposed to think it yet another flight of fancy born from overwrought impatience, for the voice seemed to be Elizabeth’s.

Darcy blinked and looked up, then gave a silent chuckle once he had taken stock of his surroundings. No, he had not lost his grasp on reason. The murmur seemed to come through the small open casement above the overgrown shrub that blocked his path. So Elizabeth must have been in there, somewhere, speaking with goodness knows who. He did not seek to ascertain what it was that she was saying, or to whom. He had no desire to eavesdrop. Yet as he turned on his heel to leave, her voice rose sharply and came loud and clear:

“Heavens, Jane, can you imagine the mortification? Nay, I am prepared to wager that he will reap what he has sown, one way or another. For one thing, he had not bargained for this outcome any more than I, and if he should rue the day, he only has himself to blame. None of this would have happened, were it not for his brazen presumption. A simple ‘No’ should have been enough for any man! He should have taken it with as much grace as he could muster, and left me be… But no more of that sickening business! I cannot bear to dwell on it for one moment longer!”

In the wake of the thunderbolt, silence fell. Heavy, icy silence. Then other murmurs, inaudible. Then the sound of a door thrown open, and a shrill, “Lizzy, Jane, there you are! I have been looking everywhere for you!” – the first salvo in the pandemonium that Mrs Bennet had such a knack for creating.

Yet this time it went unheeded, devoid of all power to vex him. For it was nothing to the pandemonium in his head.

© 2021 Joana Starnes

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So… what next? How do you think someone like Mr Darcy would react, once unintentional eavesdropping turned his world upside down? He abhors deceit – and is now under the impression that he had sacrificed his principles and his duty to his lineage for the sake of a woman who had concealed her true sentiments from him, and blames him for the scandal that had thrown them together.

And the worst part is that there is nothing he can do about it! He is bound to her for life. He, who had grown accustomed to having full control over his own destiny, finds himself trapped and powerless.

If left to his own devices, for how long do you think Mr Darcy would brood?