A year ago this coming Thursday, I published my first book, Oxford Cottage. This video is a collection of quotations from that book. Many of them were submitted to me by readers. The song is one that I have listened to many times while writing. It is Secret Path by Brian Crain. (I adore his music!)
I hope you enjoy this look back at my first book.
THE LINK BETWEEN MUSIC AND STORY:
This week, I spent much of my writing time working on editing. As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, I am planning to publish my first two Thursday Three Hundred stories. I have enjoyed spending time with these stories again…adding details and refining sentences. As I was working, I, as is my habit, had instrumental music playing in the background. Much of this music was familiar as I have played it many times while writing, but some of the music was new. One of the new pieces by a composure, who is new to me, is the one above. I think this piece of music fits rather well with this story as it is sweet, but there is a bit of trouble that must be overcome…and the title of the song is perfect. Philip and Lucy have known each other for years, but it is through the events of this story that Philip, in particular, “finds” Lucy.
As you may notice, if you look in the Thursday’s Three Hundred category of the menu, this story and the accompanying story Hope at Dawn have been removed from the blog in preparation for publication. If you should wish to read the story while waiting for the book to be available, I will be posting it on DarcyandLizzy.com (registration is required).
Or if you sign up for my newsletter, you will receive a password that can be used to read an online Advance Reader Copy of this story.
EXCERPT FROM And Then Love:
The rain had only started to fall lightly as the parishioners began to file out of the small church in Kympton. The migration of people from pew to door was a slow one as each took a moment to comment on Mr. Dobney’s sermon and to congratulate him on his upcoming marriage.
Rather than joining the numbers that lined the aisle, Lucy remained seated near the front of the church but turned so that she might watch the man she would soon call husband. He smiled and laughed. He ruffled the hair of children and shook the hands of their fathers. He had always greeted people with such ease and welcome — as if he had always known them. She rested an elbow on the back of the pew and her head lightly on her hand as she watched him nodded and tap his lip with a finger before replying to Mr. Evans. She knew from the actions that he was giving some bit of advice, for he never did so without at least a moment’s thought. Even as children, he had been the one to which the others had looked to for guidance, and he had provided it without ever making one of them feel as if they were lacking in any way.
She smiled as he leaned his tall frame down to speak close to Mrs. Walcroft’s ear. Others might have raised their voice to talk to the woman, but he never did. Philip was cautious not to injure the dignity of others, no matter their age or frailties. It was something she had always admired about him; however, not all had found the trait admirable. In fact, there were those who at one time had thought it a weakness and had teased Philip relentlessly.
It was not the only thing about which Philip had been teased. He had been gangly as a young man. His arms and legs seemed to grow rapidly, much more rapidly than his ability to use them with grace and dignity. He had also been rather skinny until he had gone away to college. However, during those years, his body had finally righted itself. He had not added another inch to his height, and he was no longer skinny. She ducked her head as she felt a bit of colour creeping into cheeks when she realized just how fine he now appeared to her. He was still taller than most, but his clothes no longer hung on him. She turned her mind away from admiring how his jacket now stretched across his back and wrapped snuggly around arms that were well-muscled and strong.
Lucy rested a gloved finger on her lips. She had chosen him for his admirable character, but since that kiss two days ago… She swallowed and rose from her seat. This was not the place to be contemplating fine figures or kisses. However, she could not resist taking one more look at Philip before she ducked out the side door. She pulled her wrap about her and dashed to stand under a well-leaved tree. She leaned against the tree and closed her eyes, filling her lungs with air that was washed clean by the falling rain. Expelling it, she opened her eyes and searched for things to occupy her thoughts other than Philip and that kiss. She was certain it was quite improper for her to have enjoyed it so. Indeed, in the moments when she was not applying herself to one task or another, it often crept into her mind. She gave herself a little shake and began watching the horses and carriages travelling along the road and the people who hurried along on foot. Despite the inclement weather, the church had been full. Even Philip’s patron had been in attendance today, but knowing what day it was, she had expected him to be there. He never missed his mother’s birthday. He had returned from town just yesterday, she had heard a couple of ladies behind her say. Continue reading Music Monday: Finding You, Gareth J. Rubery
THE LINK BETWEEN MUSIC AND STORY:
A few months ago now, while I was driving to an appointment, this song came on the radio. Well, the phrase “it’s been five long years since I’ve seen your lovely eyes” got me to thinking about a particular pair of fine eyes and imagining why there might have been five years since the last time a particular admirer of those eyes saw them. And that thinking has led to the beginning of a story which currently has no title.
STORY EXCERPT:
Elizabeth Amberly ne Bennet took in the splendor of the ballroom. It was far grander than she had ever experienced. She no longer felt overdressed; though, she did still feel strange wearing colour after so long in mourning clothes.
“Come, my dear.” Her uncle, Gareth Amberly, took her elbow. “There are people to meet.”
Elizabeth put a smile on her face and nodded. At one time she had enjoyed meeting people. It had been amusing to watch their interactions and make judgments about their character, but that was before she had discovered how very little she knew about judging character.
“Ah, there is someone for you to meet. He is older but has never married.” Her uncle leaned close and whispered. “Some say he has been nursing a broken heart for years so I’d not get my hopes up, but one never knows.” He gave her a wink. “And you must start somewhere. You are too young to remain a widow. You need a husband and children. Jack was a good man, but he is not the only good man. In fact, I wondered at times if he really was the man for you.” He steered her through the throngs of people while he patted her arm reassuringly. “Oh, I know you were happy, but — and I probably should not speak so of my own nephew — there was no spark.”
He was quite correct on that account. Theirs was a happy marriage. Both husband and wife were affable and well-suited in temperament, but it was a dull existence. Jack would never cross Elizabeth in debate. He would never do anything to provoke. He found many things diverting, but not enough to truly enjoy a good laugh. But, he had provided a good home, a good income, and good connections. Even after his passing, she had been surrounded by those who truly cared for her. She knew she should be thankful for such an arrangement — truly she was — and she should be content to be in such a secure position as she now was, but there was a part of her that longed for more…what was the word? Her checks flushed as her mind found it. Passion — she longed for more passion in life.
“Here we are.” Her uncle tapped a gentleman on the shoulder.
Elizabeth gasped and her free hand flew to her heart as the man turned around.
“Ah, Mr. Darcy, may I present my niece, Mrs. Amberly. Elizabeth, dear, this is Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.” Her uncle hid a small smile as he took in the looks of shock on both faces. Perhaps the rumours he had heard were true. He waited for a few moments for one or the other to speak, but seeing as it was unlikely, he prodded, “I had hoped you might be willing to dance with Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy. This is her first event since she came out of mourning.”
So do you think this idea has potential? I’m thinking it might. There is a rather interesting reason for why the two have not seen each other for years…I don’t want to give too many spoilers…but Bingley is involved.
THE LINK BETWEEN MUSIC AND STORY:
This is not the first time this song and this story have appeared together on my blog. The song was a Wordless Wednesday many months ago, and the story was my first Thursday Three Hundred story. I am attempting to get the first two Thursday Three Hundred stories edited and into book form. This week I have been working on Hope at Dawn. When it is done, I will begin on editing And Then Love. I hope that they will be available in April. I am also working on some other projects that I plan to give your snippets of on Mondays in the coming weeks.
I am also working on some other projects that I plan to give your snippets of on Mondays in the coming weeks, but for now, I hope you will enjoy this look back at that first writing-exercise-turned-serial-story story. 🙂
(note: Hope at Dawn is a non-Austen-inspired 🙂 regency short story of about 6,000 words. The author of the letter in the piece below is named Nicholas Sidemore. This is his and Kathleen’s story.)
EXCERPT FROM Hope at Dawn:
Kathleen Witherfield pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders and leaned against the side of the boat. The lantern swayed on its hook causing shadows to dance about the cabin. Although it was well past midnight and she should be sleeping, she was not. A mixture of excitement and trepidation swirled within her making sleep an impossibility.
Reaching beneath her pillow, she pulled out a worn letter. Carefully, she unfolded it and smoothed it on her lap. The light that flickered overhead was poor, but she did not need the light to read what was written on the page.
Kathleen,
I cannot describe the despair my heart feels tonight as I pen these words of farewell. They are not words I write willingly. Would that I was able to provide for you in a manner your father deemed acceptable! But, I cannot. I can only promise to strive to do so, but what security is there in that? I do not blame your father for refusing me.
Maybe he could not blame her father, but she could. She had been furious at her father’s refusal and horrified at his proposed alternative. Rupert Dunnaby was a liar and a cheat, and she had known it almost from their first meeting. Unfortunately, her father and brother had not seen Rupert as she had, at least not in time. She let out a heavy, sorrowful sigh and with a shake of her head to clear the memories of her father, returned to the letter.
I beg of you to not accept Mr. Dunnaby. Give me time to make my fortune. Wait for me, Kathleen. Give me one year to increase my holdings. I shall toil night and day so that when you return, I will be able to provide for you as your father requires. Please do not refuse me this request for I cannot bear the thought of you with another. I shall look for your answer on the tree behind the church. If I see your locket, I know you will return to me to retrieve it.
A tear slid down her cheek and her hand moved of its own volition to clasp the locket which hung about her neck. Carefully, she folded the letter and slipped it once again beneath her pillow before snuggling down next to the infant who shared her bed.
THE LINK BETWEEN MUSIC AND STORY:
I have heard this song several times this past week and thought it kind of sums up Richard and Kitty’s story quite well. So, I thought I would pair it with this last excerpt from their story. And this excerpt is from VERY near the end of the story, so read at your own risk. 🙂
AN EXCERPT FROM His Inconvenient Choice:
Kitty took a slow turn about the room admiring the tables and chairs and stopping to feel the fabric of the drapery. “It is all so lovely,” she muttered. “The colours and the design complement each other perfectly.”
“Lady Sophia has an excellent eye. This was her doing.” Richard took her by the arm and led her to an alcove with a comfortable seat. “You said you were in need of a rest, and this looks just the spot,” he explained, taking a seat next to her. “We will not have anything this fine. BayLeafe is only a small estate.”
“I am quite happy with a small estate, my love. It is what I have always known.” She peeked up at him. “Will you be happy? You could have married for convenience and had something far grander.”
He pulled her close. “I am quite happy with my inconvenient choice,” he teased as he ran a finger across the scar on her forehead and then cupped her cheek in his hand. “I am not romantic, so I fear my terms of endearment might not always be what one might expect.”
She smiled up at him. Although he kept saying that he was not romantic, she knew differently. He may not be given to romantic, flowery, loving words, but when he pulled her slightly closer as they walked the streets of London, when he brought her a box engraved with forget-me-knots for her pencils, and when he rubbed her cheek with his thumb as he did now, his actions spoke in thunderous tones of his love. “I do not require a romantic,” she said, pressing her cheek more firmly into his hand, “I require only you.”
