Middleton Hall. John Preston Neale (1818). Image extracted from page 288 of volume 5 of “Views of the Seats of Noblemen and Gentlemen in England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland. L.P”, by John Preston Neale. Original held and digitised by the British Library. / Public domain via Wikimedia Commons
This is the sort of house where Richard and Lydia will make their home. I really like that this house has the same shape and seems to have the same number of windows across the front and along the side as one of my favourite historic homes (Uniacke Estate Museum Park) that I like to visit here in Nova Scotia. It makes it easier to imagine how the fictitious house at Beaumont Park might be laid out inside. However, we’re only stopping here for the night in our story before the characters continue on to Netherfield and Longbourn.
~*~*~
“Oh, it is lovely!” Kitty said as the Darcy carriage drove through the gate and toward the house at Beaumont Park the next afternoon. “Lydia must be delighted to know this will be her home.”
“And you will not be so very far from her,” Georgiana placed an arm around her friend and leaned against Kitty so she could also peer out the window. “I have not been here in some time.”
“It has been at least five years,” Fitzwilliam agreed. “However, I do think we will be stopping here more often on our way to and from Pemberley in the future since someone will be living here. I see the work on the chimney Richard told me about has begun.”
[from Protecting Miss Darcy, Marrying Elizabeth book 6]
I selected this video to pair with a chapter of His Irreplaceable Belle, which publishes tomorrow, because that Touches of Austen story contains touches of Jane Austen’s Persuasion.
The late afternoon sun felt wonderful and warming as Fritz turned his face towards it. The brightness that filtered through his eyelids was restorative. It had always drawn him forward from his often deep ponderings with a cheerfulness that was unparalleled by anything else, save for the smile of a particular lady.
However, he was not sitting in the garden to think about Belle. He was here to clear his mind and turn it towards the task at hand – finding a wife who was not Belle.
He drew a deep breath and released it. But neither the freshness of the spring air nor the intensity of the sun could chase away the dark shadow of sadness that passed across his heart at the thought.
“Mr. Norman.”
Fritz straightened himself and opened his eyes. “Mrs. Blakesley.” He stood.
“Please call me Grace. I think we will be good enough friends for such familiarity.” Grace Blakesley took a seat on the bench next to where Fritz had been leaning backward and enjoying the sunshine. “My husband does not mind if you call me by my Christian name, do you, Walter?”
Walter Blakesley chuckled as he shook his head. Was there a happier man in all of Bath? Fritz was certain he had not seen one – not even Mr. Clayton and Mr. Shelton, who were each, without a doubt, happily and contentedly married and awaiting the arrival of a child, shone quite like Blakesley did. Joy effused every part of Blakesley’s person.
“You may call my wife whatever she wishes for you to call her.”
“I hate to disappoint your wife, but I may have to insist upon Mrs. Blakesley,” Fritz said. “I assume you will not be discharging me as your physician, Blakesley, will you be?”
Blakesley guffawed. “And give up the best physician in Bath? I think not!”
A rather grumbly part of Fritz’s mind wished that people would stop referring to him as the best physician.
“Then, I assume you will also call on me if Mrs. Blakesley should ever be in need of care?”
“Of course.” The answer was given without a moment’s pause.
“In that case, Mrs. Blakesley, I will have to insist upon calling you Mrs. Blakesley. It would be too improper for us to be on friendlier terms.”
Mrs. Blakesley scowled. “I do not see why it should be considered improper.”
“There are many strictures which might seem ridiculous and yet we must abide by them. I would not wish to be thought of as unprofessional or lacking in decorum in any fashion.”
Mrs. Blakesley’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, yes, right. I completely understand.” She paused to peek at her husband who had finally taken a seat next to her rather than standing and surveying their surroundings.
The man was incurably curious.
“Mrs. Blakesley is a lovely name,” his friend’s wife said happily. “I quite like it.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Blakesley said.
“As am I,” Fritz inserted before the two with him forgot he was there.
Oh, my! This has been a busy, busy week. Not much writing got done, but a lot of other tasks did. I’ll tell you more about that below, as well as about the books I have on sale, the book I have on preorder, and a little bit about a piece of exercise equipment that is mentioned in His Irreplaceable Belle. Ready to find out about all that? Here we go…
Writing News
This week, I wrote one chapter of Her Convenient Forever. That’s all I have gotten written so far this week. I hope to maybe have time to at least start a chapter of Protecting Miss Darcy later today, but we’ll see if there is time for that or not. Below is an excerpt from near the end of the chapter I wrote. The Loves have just arrived at Grenwood Hall to take a tour, and Mrs. Love is quite excited for the opportunity. (Little does she know just how eventful this tour will be — but I haven’t written that part yet, nor am I going to share that little secret.)
“I thought that we could start our tour in the drawing room with a glass of lemonade and a biscuit if youwish.”
“I just ate something on the way here,” Felicity admitted softly. It was not something she would have admitted to just anyone, but Mr. Hedrington had not judged her harshly for being with child. Therefore, she suspected he would not care one bit if she had consumed a full meal while travelling the few miles from their cottage to his home. “However, I would not turn down a glass of lemonade.”
“Then, we shall have lemonade and save the biscuits for later.” He paused before he reached the door. “Did you get a good look at the façade? It is quite grand is it not?”
“It is lovely, simply lovely,” Felicity’s mother cried. “Mrs. Adams – do you know her?”
“I do,” Mr. Hedrington said.
“Mrs. Adams told me that the house and grounds were well proportioned, and she was right. Oh!” One of her hands rested just above her heart. “It is delightfully proportioned. Even spacing on the windows and each matching the other. The symmetry is exactly as it should be.”
Girl with Basket of Plums, 1875, Émile Munier / Public domain via Wikimedia Commons
Meet my visual inspiration for Miss Lily Langley. Now, who could blame Alfred for not being able to say no to such a sweet young lady?
~*~*~
“You are correct,” Alfred said to Lorcan some thirty minutes later to while Georgiana and Miss Bennet strolled along the edge of the lawn while Lily chased her ball through the crochet field. “Netherfield’s library might be quieter. However, who would hold Lily’s baby while she played if I am not here?”
Lorcan laughed. “She has you completely in her pocket, does she not?”
“Completely,” Alfred agreed. Lily could ask him to do just about anything – such as sit properly on a blanket and hold her doll so that it would not feel lonely while she was playing with her brother – and he would do it.
[from Protecting Miss Darcy, Marrying Elizabeth book 6]
Today, I am pairing this song with a story where I would say the heroine has a very innocent heart. It is a heart that is not looking in the right place for its forever love, but the guy sitting next to her and attempting to help her catch the attention of her crush and his brother will make certain by the end of the story that her heart finds its true home.
The story I am talking about is His Beautiful Bea, which is the first book in my Touches of Austen series, and the innocent heart belongs to Beatrice Tierney.
Important note: This book is currently on sale for $0.99 but ONLY until today. At some point tomorrow, that price will be going up!
If you have been reading my Sweet Tuesday stories, I think you will recognize a name or two in this chapter.
His Beautiful Bea, Chapter 2
Touches of Austen Book 1
“You are a fair sight to see,” Max said later that afternoon as he plopped down next to his sister on a couch in Stratsbury’s drawing room. He flicked her book. “You’ve not finished it yet?” he queried. “I half expected you to be ready to peruse the library before we leave today, but you have more than half the book left to read.”
Bea smiled at her brother. He was not a great reader. He preferred being out of doors and doing things to sitting and reading.
“I promise I shall not disappoint you,” she replied. “I have completed my book of poetry and would like to replace it. Sir Herbert has already promised me that I might. Will you help me choose a new book?”
Max shook his head and laughed. “Not likely. My knowledge of poetry is limited.” He stretched out his arms, resting them on the back of the sofa with one wrapped around her shoulders. “I know a few poets and poems, but not a vast array. You would be better to ask Everett or even Graeme. They would know more.”
“Then if I require assistance, my dear brother, I will ask one of them and not you.”
