Music Monday: My Luve is like a Red, Red Rose (Arr. Ešenvalds)

Happy New Year!

I am making a few changes to the Music Monday posts (which will cause some other changes on the blog). I’ll explain all that below.

PUBLISHED TO YOUTUBE BY VOCES8-TOPIC ON JANUARY 17, 2019

Every year as one year changes to the next, I evaluate what I am doing and look for ways to try to improve. Sometimes, I try new things. Sometimes, those new things work. Sometimes, they don’t. 🙂

Last year, I made a change to the blog and added Sweet Tuesdays. They have been going well, although, honestly, adding that third story to work on consistently with two others has been challenging. But it is a good challenge and has been worth the effort, I think. I plan to continue it.

This year, I am going to try shifting my writing news out of the Music Monday post and give it its own post called The Saturday Broadsheet. I’ve been typing up my weekly writing news for my mailing list for a couple of months now. I’ve been doing it on Thursdays, but the week isn’t over yet. There’s still one day of writing to be done. So, I think I will move writing those emails until Friday and then send them on Saturdays. If I am doing that for my mailing list, I should be able to easily copy out the information I want to post here on the blog on Saturdays at the same time.

This should (hopefully) streamline some things for me, and it should make my Monday posts focused more on the writing inspiration I find in music.

I figure it’s at least worth a try. If it doesn’t work, I can revert back to the way Monday posts have been, right?

I really don’t have a lot of writing news this Monday. I took a good bit of time off over the holidays — way more than I had intended to, but it was so good that I can’t really feel sorry I did it. 🙂 The only real writing-related thing that got done was my final proofread of Her Secret Beau. I’ll share details about the preorder and release and all that later this week. I would say Saturday — but…there will be a Friday Feature this week which is related to Her Secret Beau. 🙂

So, I’m not making any huge changes to the blog. Just a few small ones. You can let me know if you like them or loathe them in a month or so. 🙂 We have to try them for a while before we can say if we like them or not. That’s the rule. 🙂

Ok, so Mondays… I hope to bring you videos of music that inspires me while I am writing or which sparks writing ideas. I also want to highlight some of my already published works over the course of the year. (Did you know that Her Secret Beau will be the 43rd book I have published? I just need 9 more to cover a year of Mondays. Maybe by next year? LOL)

The video I shared today has a direct connection with one of the books I have written because Robert Burns’ poem “My Luve is Like a Red, Red Rose” is a poem Darcy is reading in Netherfield’s library when a scheme is put into play to force him to marry Elizabeth.

Here’s how that scene goes. This lengthy excerpt is from Her Father’s Choice, Chapter 1.

The music swirled about Elizabeth as she completed the final few steps of the dance. As the last notes of the song faded into the expanse of Netherfield’s ballroom, she dipped a curtsey and moved silently away from her dancing partner.  The swirling feeling, however, did not die with the music.  From the corner of her eye, she could see Miss Bingley moving toward her.  Speaking to anyone, let alone Miss Bingley, was not something she wished to do at present, so seeing an opportunity to slip away from the crowds, she took it.  She smiled at her father as she slid behind him and out of the room into the hallway.  Assuring herself that no others would see her escape, she hurried to the library.  A need for solitude, somewhere to gather her thoughts and sort through the strange feelings that had her nerves all aflutter, consumed her.  She clicked the door quietly shut behind her and retrieved a book of poetry from the shelf.  It was one of the books she had enjoyed reading when she had stayed here to tend to her sister.

Darcy watched her slip off her shoes and tuck her small feet under her skirts as she curled into the chair and flipped the pages of her book.  His book lay open on his lap, but not one word had entered his mind for it was filled with the lady who now presented such a charming picture before him. This, he thought to himself, this is how an evening at home should be spent.  The thought both shocked and pleased him.  He shook his head and smiled, for he could not help it even in his unsettled state of mind.  Thoughts of Miss Elizabeth often led him to smile.  He allowed himself several moments to consider her, to play again in his mind many of their interactions before he turned his mind to his book.

As fair as thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in luve am I;

And I will love thee still, my dear,

Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Darcy closed the book. So deep in love am I, the words of Mr.Burn’s poem, repeated themselves in his mind.  That must be it.  His disquiet, his agitation of spirit, the joy of having her near and the torment of hearing her speak of another were not symptoms that his heart might be in danger of being engaged but rather signs that it was already engaged and, he feared, to an unalterable extent. Quietly, he lay the book on the table next to his chair and rose to leave. He would return later to retrieve the book so that he might ponder the words and what he was to do about his heart.

Elizabeth glanced up at Darcy as he walked to the door and flipped yet another unread page.  The book had not been able to capture her mind or quiet her spirit.  The room still spun slowly, her heart still fluttered, and her eyes were drawn of their own accord to the man sitting across the room from her.  Perhaps once he took his leave of the room, she might find the peace she sought.  She turned her mind back to her book; but it was of no use, the desire to read seemed to be leaving with Mr. Darcy.  So, she stood, smoothed her skirts and slipped her feet into her slippers.

The door opened as Darcy reached it, and Elizabeth’s aunt, Mrs. Phillips, entered. She looked from Mr. Darcy to Elizabeth, who was still smoothing her skirts, and then peered around the room as if searching for someone or something.  Her eyes grew wide, and her hand flew to her chest.

“Oh,” she said. “Oh, my.  Oh, Lizzy.  And…and Mr. Darcy.”  She spun on her heels and very nearly ran from the room.  “Mr. Bennet,” she called.  “Mr. Bennet, you are needed.”

Elizabeth gasped.  “I must stop her,” she said as she moved toward the door, but Darcy stopped her.

“The damage has already been done,” he said.  “Should you follow after her, she will only make a greater spectacle as she either scolds or questions you.  It is best to await your father here.” He led her back to her chair.  Reluctantly, he let go of her arm as she took a seat.  “Are you well?” he asked.

“I hardly know,” she replied.  Thoughts of the things her aunt might be saying filled her mind.  She sought a solution, an explanation that might explain her current circumstances in such a way as to repair her reputation.  She watched Mr. Darcy pace about the room and replied to his inquiries after her health.  He sat for a moment but stood again and resumed his pacing, which only stopped when her father entered. Then she noted how very rigid his stance became.

“Papa,” she said rising and going to him, “it is not how my aunt presented it.”  Her father pulled her into his embrace.

“It is not about what has happened, my Lizzy, but about what others think has happened,” he said quietly.  “I do not doubt your honour, but you know how the gossips work.”  He released her from his arms and grasping her chin, forced her to look at him.  The pain in her eyes was nearly his undoing.  “Have a seat while we discuss what might be done to save your reputation,” he faltered for a moment before adding what he knew would play most heavily upon her heart, “and the reputation of our family.” He clenched his jaw as he saw her eyes grow wide and fill with tears.

“There is only one option, sir,” said Mr. Darcy.  “I must marry your daughter. My reputation may be tainted slightly by a situation such as this, but the damage that would be done to Miss Elizabeth….” He silently reproved himself once again for not having left the room when she entered.

“I believe you have the right of it, Mr. Darcy. There seem to be few other options. I know my wife’s sister is not one to keep a story such as this to herself.  I fear the entirety of Mr. Bingley’s guests has already come to know of it.”

Panic gripped Elizabeth’s heart. Surely, her father could not be serious. Marry Mr. Darcy? She shook her head. “No, Papa, please,” she begged. She blinked against the tears that threatened to fall.

“Elizabeth, there is no other option. You will marry Mr. Darcy.” His voice was gentle but firm, and she knew from his use of her full name instead of Lizzy that there was no hope of changing his mind.

“No,” she said softly as she buried her face in her hands and allowed the tears to fall.

She felt his arm come around her shoulders. “My dear daughter, it is for the best. Aunt Phillips is not known for her discretion, and the story of your being alone in the library with Mr. Darcy will be circulated, and embellishments will be added. Your betrothal is all that will save your reputation. We must also think of your sisters.”

Her shoulders shook as she sobbed quietly, but she nodded her head as if she understood the reality of the situation.

Mr. Bennet swallowed the lump in his throat and strengthened his resolve. This was for the best, even if his heart broke at seeing her so unhappy. “It will be a good thing, Lizzy. I know you do not see it now, but I truly believe there is no one better suited to you than Mr. Darcy.” He kissed the top of her head. “Dry your eyes.” He gave her hand a squeeze as he stood to address Mr. Darcy. “I do not question your honour. I am convinced this is nothing more than an unfortunate chain of events, but the gossip will not present it as such.” His conscience pricked him as he said it. Truly, it was not Darcy’s honour he questioned as much as his own.

“How shall we proceed?” Darcy’s voice was tight.

“It might be best if we give everyone time to adjust to the sudden circumstances,” suggested Sir William. “A meeting could be arranged for tomorrow.”

Darcy nodded mutely, perhaps a few hours to accept their new relationship was what both he and Miss Elizabeth needed. He had been pleased to watch Elizabeth resting in the library. He had imagined her reading at Pemberley, an idea which had taken him by surprise. He had known he was somewhat in danger of having his heart engaged, but he had not expected it to happen so suddenly and without a greater amount of warning. There had been no unease at the thought. It had been as natural as wishing to see his sister, Georgiana. And now as he watched Elizabeth weep at the idea of marrying him, his heart ached.

“Might I have a few moments with Miss Elizabeth before she leaves?” He was not sure what he could say to ease her distress, but he felt an overwhelming need to at least attempt some sort of comfort.

Mr. Bennet gave him a sympathetic smile and nodded his consent. The request, coupled with the look of concern on Darcy’s face, eased his mind a bit. His daughter would be loved. Indeed, it appeared she already was. If only she could see past her first impression of the gentleman….

Mr. Bennet had attempted to paint Darcy in a favourable light, but no matter how hard he had tried, Elizabeth had clung to her opinion that Darcy was proud and disdained everything about her, her family, and the neighbourhood. She was wrong, of course. He had done some shooting with Darcy and Bingley and had found both gentlemen to be pleasant; although, Darcy was more reserved and thoughtful. He pulled the door closed as he and Sir William entered the hall.

“We have done what is best, have we not?” Mr. Bennet looked to his friend for reassurance.

Sir William shrugged. “Whether it is best or not, it is done. We must trust that they will eventually be happy together.” He leaned against the door frame across from Mr. Bennet. “Consider the facts. Collins was set to make an offer which would have led to a great upheaval in your household when Elizabeth refused him ─ for you know she would.” Mr. Bennet nodded his agreement. Elizabeth had made her dislike for the gentleman perfectly clear to everyone save to her mother and Mr. Collins.

Sir William continued, “Then, there were Miss Bingley’s comments about quitting the neighbourhood. That will not happen so quickly now, which will give Jane a greater chance of being happily matched. After all, news of one wedding often leads to news of others. And,” he held up his finger to highlight the point, “it would be desirable to Bingley to be closely related to Darcy. His standing would increase and the felicity between their wives would serve both men well.” He shifted and crossed one leg over the other. “There is also the fact that Mr. Wickham has been showing particular attention to Elizabeth, and from rumors I have heard, he is not the sort of man a father wishes to have pay court to his daughter.” He sighed. “There are no guarantees, but I do believe your choice will prove to be best…in time.”

Mr. Bennet leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He prayed that he had made the right choice and that, one day, his daughter and his new son would forgive him for his interference.

Within the library, Darcy cautiously took a seat next to Elizabeth. He longed to pull her to his chest and assure her all would be well, but he could not. Instead, he placed his handkerchief in her lap, giving her the only token of his care he was allowed.

She took the piece of cloth and dried her eyes as she mumbled her thanks. Then with a slight shake of her head to gain control of her emotions, she spoke. “I am so very sorry. I should not have come in here. But the people and the noise and the…” Her control failed, and she slipped back into tears as she remembered the turmoil of her feelings after dancing with the man who now sat beside her.

“It was overwhelming.” Darcy grasped his knee so that he would not take her hand. Those were the very reasons he had sought refuge in the library. Those and the wish to contemplate the desire which had overtaken him during their dance. A desire to relieve Wickham of his life. A desire he had felt once before but never with such intensity as when he considered Elizabeth being taken in by the wastrel.

She nodded. “And now you are tied to me because I allowed my desire for solace to overwhelm my good sense.” She buried her face in his handkerchief. “I am so very sorry, but my family…my sisters…” The words were muffled somewhat by the cloth she held to her face.

“No, I should have made my presence known or left as soon as you entered, but I chose to stay.” Colour crept up his neck. He prayed she would not ask him why he had made that choice.

She shook her head. “I knew you were there. I chose to ignore propriety. Oh, what you must think of me!” Though she had uncovered her face, her eyes were still firmly focused on the handkerchief which she wound in her hands.

“And what you must think of me.” He gave her a gentle smile as she peeked up at him. “We both chose to ignore propriety.” She nodded. “But, what concerns me more is that you find the prospect of marriage to me to be so horrible as to bring you to tears. Surely, I cannot be that bad.” There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice which made the statement sound more like a question than a statement.

Elizabeth looked at her hands again. How did one tell the man you were to marry that although he stirred deep and strong emotion in you, you were not sure if you even liked him? “It is the shock of the situation, I am sure,” she mumbled.

“Of course,” he agreed, although she suspected he did not. They passed a very long and strained moment in silence. “You have not yet deciphered my character. You do not trust me.” There was that uncertainty in his voice again though it sounded more pained than questioning this time.

“I can neither trust nor distrust you, sir,” she said. For some reason, she felt a need to ease his discomfort.

“We do not need to marry immediately. How long would you like for our betrothal to be?”

She shrugged, but her mind whirled. Her mother would be unbearable and the whispering in Meryton would follow her wherever she went. While the thought of marrying a man she barely knew frightened her more than she was willing to admit even to herself, she knew that remaining in Meryton and at Longbourn would be just as unbearable. “There are at least three readings. I see no reason to delay it beyond that. I know you are anxious to quit the neighbourhood.”

“I admit, I would prefer to be in more familiar and comfortable surroundings, but I am more concerned that you be at ease.” She peeked at him once again, her brows furrowed as they had during their dance when she questioned him. He smiled. “I can see you are once again trying to read my character. I promise to answer any questions you may have, but there will be no reading of the banns. We will marry by special license.”

Her eyes widened. “Why?”

“My aunt.” He gave her a wry smile. “Mr. Collins’ patroness,” he rolled his eyes, and she caught a laugh just before it burst forth, “Lady Catherine de Bourgh is, as I am sure the gentleman has made you aware, my aunt.”

“And this demands a special license?” The handkerchief lay knotted but still on her lap.

“She expects me to marry her daughter. I have never had any intention of marrying my cousin, and I am not, as I am sure has been said, betrothed to her. There is no arrangement, but that does not mean my aunt will not be greatly displeased. I do not wish to give her opportunity to cause an issue by making a statement in reply to the banns.”

“You are not betrothed?”

He shook his head. “No. It is a great desire of my aunt’s, but it is not mine.” He sighed. “I do not like family discord. It is why I have not been more forceful in making my position known. Indeed, it is why I do not complain more frequently to Bingley regarding his sisters. I consider him as a brother. He is not family by blood, but he is family by extension.”

There was a soft knock at the door.

“Our time is up, Miss Elizabeth. May I call on you when I come to Longbourn to meet with your father? Perhaps, if Bingley accompanies me, he and I could join you and your sister on a walk, and you may begin to question me.” His mouth tipped up only on one side, giving him a rather playful look which pleasantly startled Elizabeth.

“I would like that,” she said, and she was surprised to realize just how much she actually meant it.

Mr. Bennet sighed in relief as he saw his favourite daughter smile at Darcy when the gentleman stood to leave.

“You are well?” he asked.

“I am resigned,” she said. “I cannot put my wishes before my duty to my sisters. Perhaps it is as you said and will be for the best.” She hugged his arm as they walked toward the door of the library. “He was very kind just now. Not at all proud.”

Darcy paused in the hall as her words reached him. He hastened his steps and sought Bingley, who was just wishing Miss Bennet a good night. “I must speak with you,” he said softly as he stood near his friend.

“Oh, Mr. Darcy!” Mrs. Bennet’s shrill voice caused him to grimace slightly. “You are a sly one. Pretending to not like Lizzy and then proposing. It is quite surprising, I assure you. We were positively certain you disapproved of her, and I would not blame you if you did. She can be quite the outspoken sort, and her beauty is nothing compared to Jane.”

Jane flinched at the comment and extended her hand to Mr. Darcy as if wishing him a good night. “I must apologize for my mother. I believe she has had a bit too much punch.” She smiled that serene smile of hers, and Darcy wondered for the first time how much she might conceal behind her facade. Gently, she guided her mother and younger sisters out the door with a quick look over her shoulder toward where Elizabeth walked with her father.

Darcy shook his head. Miss Bennet was removing her mother before a greater scene ensued. He had obviously misjudged her depths, and if he had been wrong in this, perhaps he was wrong in not perceiving her to have affection for Bingley.

“I will await you in the library.”

Bingley shot him an amused look. “You have not spent enough time in there yet tonight?”

Darcy scowled.

“I will be there directly,” said Bingley with a nod before turning to Mr. Bennet.

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