Austen-Inspired – Page 2

Harriet and the Colonel, Ch. 2 (part 2)

Harriet moved from one case of pretty baubles to another and again, peeked over the shoulder of the person ahead of her to see if anything caught her interest. Shopping was not her favourite activity unless it was shopping for clues, which is what she was doing today. That is not to say she despised the activity. Oh, she tolerated it quite well, but it was a whole lot better than tolerable when the mission was not just to acquire a fan or string of pearls or the like but was instead a covert mission.

“May I be of assistance,” asked a gentleman who was dressed a bit better than the other clerks behind the cases. “We are quite busy today, and I would be very much saddened to see a lady of quality such as yourself leave my shop without being waited upon.”

His shop? Did he mean that he was the proprietor and not just an employee?

“It is a lovely establishment that you have set up for yourself.” She watched his features for how he would respond to this. As she had hoped, he smiled and inclined his head while his chest puffed a bit at the complement.

“I am most pleased to hear you say so. Now, is there anything with which I might assist you? Was there something in particular that you were looking for?”

She opened her reticule and withdrew a hair comb that had been her mothers and was far too lovely to wear as an everyday accessory. As she did so, she made certain that the few pounds she carried were visible. “My father had a pocket watch that matched this in its design. The flowers and leaves that is. It did not sparkle as this does for who needs a watch to shine when it is tucked in one’s pocket?”

The shop owner nodded his head, looking quite attentive, as she spoke.

“My sister’s husband has a birthday in just a month, and she has commissioned me to find him a watch as a surprise. He has always admired my brother’s watch – which as you might have guessed used to be my father’s watch. Would you have anything that would come close to this?” She turned the hair comb this way and that as if admiring it. It truly was a pretty piece of jewelry.

“I have a few watches in a box in the back.” He glanced around the store. “They are not new,” he said softly. “They were accepted on tick, if you understand my meaning.”

“They are not pilfered goods, are they?” She asked the question in a whisper.

“Oh, goodness, no!” The shop owner assured her. “They are simply a means for someone to pay a bill.”

She made a show of blowing out a soft breath in relief. “In that case, I would be happy to examine them.”

“If you will follow me, we can look at them in my office.”

Harriet motioned to Jimmy who was standing near the door, and then, they both followed the man into his office where he proceeded to withdraw a box from inside a small mahogany chiffonier. Inside the box were four watches, all neatly displayed and cleaned. There was not a speck of dust on them.

“Oh,” she said as her eyes fell on the very watch for which she was looking. “They are quite lovely. I am sure that whoever had to part with them was quite sad to do so.” She put out a hand. “May I touch them?”

“To be sure. Pick them up and feel their quality. Inspect their design. We never accept any items, from any source, which are not of the highest workmanship.”

First, she examined the gold watch next to her brother’s stolen silver one. She put her hair comb next to the engraving on the back and made a small tsking noise when it clearly did not match.

“That is a fine watch. Your sister’s husband would be proud to use it,” the shop owner encouraged. “But the one next to it might be closer to what you are looking for.” He lifted it out of the box and handed it to her.

Harriet ran a finger of the glass and then closed the front protective metal face over it. It clicked closed just as it should.

“Oh, it is covered in vines!” she cried in delight. “It is not just the same as this comb, but my does it not come close?” She looked up at the shopkeeper as she turned it over. “Is this the maker’s mark?” She asked when she saw the small G.P., which stood for Giles Philips – her father’s name, on the back.

“It must be,” the man said. “Although it is not one with which I am familiar.”

“He is very good whoever he is,” Harriet said. “Is it terribly expensive?”

“I am afraid I cannot part with it for less than fifty pounds for I must cover what I purchased it for and make a little to pay for housing it.”

Harriet sighed and turned it over in her hands. “My sister was hoping to spend no more than thirty, but I must say this one is exquisite and I do have a few pounds of my own. Are you certain you cannot take forty-five? I just that much in my reticule. The transaction could be complete this instant.”

That lit a gleam in the man’s eyes. “Forty-five, you say?”

Harriet nodded and held her breath.

“This is a private sale,” the man said with a pointed look. “I am no pawnbroker.”

“Oh, I understand. I will not say a word to anyone about where I found this, except for my sister, of course. She will need to know.”

The man’s head bobbed up and down slowly for a moment before he sat forward in his chair and smiled. “I think we have an agreement. Shall I wrap this for you?”

“Oh, no, there is no need. I have come prepared.” She took her money out of her reticule and then, pulled out a small blue velvet pouch. “My sister gave me this so that it would be easy for me to pass it to her without causing any suspicion since it is the bag she uses when she lends me earbobs and broaches.”

“That is very clever,” the man said as he accepted her money.

“Oh, it is, but then, my sister is far cleverer than I. I am sure I never would have thought of it. The things she came up with for us to do when we were young that had I been in charge of the planning we would have been in trouble for sure, but not with her.” She added a laugh at her own expense here.

“There is always one in any lot of siblings, or so my wife says.”

“Indeed, I fear your wife has the right of it from what I have heard,” she agreed as she placed the watch inside her reticule, and then handed the whole thing to Jimmy. “Thank you so much, sir. You have made both me and my sister very happy.” She dipped a curtsey and took her leave.

Would not Edmund be surprised when he found this on his desk tomorrow? Now, if only she could discover whom it was who had sold it to the owner of this shop.

Im Trauerhause/In the House of Mourning (Fragment) , Walter Firle

If you prefer, you can listen to this post on YouTube at this link.

What if Mr. Darcy was engaged to his cousin Anne?

What if she died before they could make their engagement public?

What if Mr. Darcy had only just met Elizabeth and had begun to feel attracted to her when he hears that his Anne has died?

Well, those are some of the questions that prompted the writing of Mr. Darcy’s Comfort.

This story and it’s sequel both spend most of their time in a setting where sorrow stands at the door and even comes in … unbidden … to sit for a while.

Grief and sorrow are most certainly present in the scene from Mr. Darcy’s Comfort that I’m sharing today, since it takes place, in part, in a room, where loved ones are sitting vigil, much like is happening in the image above.

An Excerpt from Chapter 4 of Mr. Darcy’s Comfort

…“How is your heart?” Richard asked as Darcy threw back the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

“It aches a great deal more than the rest of me.”

“Will you sit watch?”

Darcy nodded. “I should like to. Will Aunt Catherine allow it? I am not female.”

“She has allowed Father, so I am certain she will allow you to take a turn as well.” Richard rang for Darcy’s man as Darcy made use of the chamber pot before finding his robe and taking a seat near the fire to enjoy another small amount of port. “However, you have been ill, and we would not wish for you to become so again, so your activity might be limited. Do not push yourself beyond what you are able.”

Darcy heard the worry that lay beneath the slightly severe tone Richard used. “I will do my best,” he agreed.

Richard smiled. “I shall see that you do.” He nodded to Darcy’s man and made his way to the door. “I shall see you in the breakfast room. You must eat.” He stood at the door and waited until Darcy had given his agreement that he would eat before leaving the room.

~*~*~

After having eaten, Darcy made his way to Anne’s small sitting room. He paused outside the door for a moment, blew out a breath, drew another, and though his heart would not remain beating at the pace he wished it would but instead insisted on increasing its rhythm, he stepped into the room. Anne lay peacefully at one end. She looked no less fragile in death than she had in life.

“Aunt Catherine,” he said softly. He knew that though Anne looked as if she were sleeping, she was not, but still, he kept his voice low as speaking any louder seemed wrong.

His aunt looked up from her work of tying black ribbons around small packages. “I have one for you, Darcy.” She searched her basket and pulled out a larger item. It was wrapped in lavender cloth and tied with the same black ribbon she was using on her current project. “I selected a few items for you that I know she cherished.” She held the gift out to him. “She is still beautiful, is she not?”

Darcy turned his head to look once again at Anne. “Yes,” he answered. Anne’s was not a classical beauty but one of delicacy like a fine piece of china. “I have come to spend some time with her.”

Lady Catherine rose from her chair. “You would have been good to her.” She placed a hand on his arm. “And she would have made you happy. I know it.”

Darcy smiled. “I believe you are right.”

She sighed loudly as if lifting some heavy object. “You shall never be my son.” She patted his arm. “It is a pity.”

“Indeed, it is,” Darcy agreed. It would not have been an easy task being her son, but he could have managed. “Mother would be disappointed, would she not?”

Lady Catherine patted his arm again and nodded. Her lips were firmly pressed together, and her eyes were watery. He knew she was not the sort of lady to allow her emotions to be aired before others. Therefore, he respectfully looked away.

“Mother has likely met her, and they are having tea while Mother shares stories about you.”

To his surprise, he found himself wrapped in his aunt’s arms. It was something that had not happened since just after his mother had died.

He squeezed her tightly. “I may never be your son, but I shall always care for you,” he whispered. “I promised Mother I would.”

“You are a good boy,” she replied. Then, she straightened herself, gathered her basket, and left him alone in the room.

Darcy walked over to where Anne lay and studied her face. “Your mother is going to miss you. She already does.”

He and Anne had spoken about how Lady Catherine would adjust to Anne’s being in Derbyshire after they married. They knew that, eventually, Lady Catherine would come to live with them. Darcy had planned to have Richard see to Rosings until it might be needed for a second son of his and Anne’s to manage it.

But now? He blew out a breath. Things were different now that Anne was gone. The fate of Rosings would lie in the hands of his uncle, Lord Matlock, according to the provision in Anne’s father’s will. However, there was time for all that to be decided.

“Your mother can still live with me if she so chooses,” he assured Anne. “I will not cast her aside unless she becomes too demanding. Then there is that cottage we had discussed as being perfect for her.” He smiled down at Anne. “What shall I do without you? I am not good at conversing with ladies. How shall I ever convince someone to take me on?”…

This book is currently only available on Amazon because it it enrolled in the Kindle Unlimited Program. There are, however, some signed print editions of this book and its sequel in the Leenie B Books Shop on Etsy which you can check out at this link.

A meal stop at a coaching inn (George Goodwin Kilburne)

If you’d like to listen to this post rather than read it, here’s the YouTube video I made for it. If you’d just like to read and not listen, keep scrolling. 🙂

This is an image that I came across several years ago when I was writing my Willow Hall series. I think I was writing book 2, The Tenant’s Guest, when I came across this image since I did mention an inn in that story, but today, I’m sharing another scene from the series.

This one is the prologue to book 4, At All Costs. It hints at events that have happened so far in the series and sets us up nicely to expect some trouble in the final installment. It also introduces us to a Bingley that is unexpected and who will protect those he loves at all costs.

Enjoy!

At All Costs, Prologue

George Wickham balanced on the back two legs of his chair. A smile curled his lips as he saw the man who entered the upper room at the inn. This was the man they sent to deal with him? He chuckled inwardly. This man was all charm and smiles. This was not the usual sort of man with whom Wickham dealt. Well, at least, not as the victim. No, when dealing with anyone as malleable as this man, it was Wickham who would be the aggressor, and the poor blithe chap would not realize his folly until Wickham was well away and in possession of something that the man formerly possessed — money, jewels, a maidenly sister. Wickham’s smile grew at the thought. This man had a sister — a bit of a shrew but a wealthy one.

Mr. Williams raised a brow in his direction as if he knew what Wickham was thinking.

With a thud, Wickham dropped his chair to the ground and took up a proper position and demeanor for negotiations. His lips twitched with a barely contained smile. Perhaps Miss Lydia had not done him a disservice after all in conscripting him to take her to Derbyshire.

“Mr. Williams,” Charles Bingley stuck out his hand in greeting, “I trust you are well today.” Bingley motioned for his companion, Philip Dobney, to take a seat at the table before taking his own place.

“I am well and will be better once I have rid myself of this cad,” grumbled Williams.

“Understandable,” agreed Bingley with a smile. “Mr. Dobney has agreed to sign as a witness.” Bingley spread out some papers in front of him.

“Very good,” said Mr. Williams. “The sooner we can have this business concluded, the better. Although I do not like the idea of giving any assistance to an associate of Tolson.” He narrowed his eyes at Wickham. “Deserves the same fate if you ask me.”

Wickham swallowed. He would have to keep an eye behind him as he travelled. It was one of Mr. Williams’ men who had found Tolson after his fall. The events of that accident had never sat well with Wickham. It was why he had attempted to do just as required while in Derbyshire.

“Miss Lydia will be free of you, and you shall be free of your debts. Are we agreed?” Bingley produced a small pen and ink set from his bag.

“We are,” Wickham agreed, pondering just how much extra money he could extract from Bingley when telling him the number of what he owed.

“This is the record of debts I will pay.” Bingley slid the list Colonel Fitzwilliam had obtained from Lydia across the table.

Wickham looked at the paper in surprise. “Where did you get this?” His eyes scanned the paper, falling on a small flower constructed of hearts at the bottom of the page. “Miss Lydia?” he asked in surprise.

“She is resourceful,” said Bingley.

Wickham’s jaw clenched. Resourceful was not exactly the word he would use for the vixen.

“I just need a signature from you to show your agreement and from Mr. Dobney as the witness to said agreement,” said Bingley. He waited as Wickham signed the document and then slid it to Philip. “The money along with a further copy of this list has been sent to Brighton. All will be settled before your return and without Colonel Forester knowing.”

Bingley blew lightly on the signatures to dry them. “Mr. Williams will post this to my solicitor.” He folded the paper and, after addressing it, sealed it before handing it to the constable.

“I do have a bit of something for your trouble in escorting Miss Lydia to Willow Hall.” He nodded to Philip. “I will be only a moment more. I know you were expected at Aunt Tess’s for tea and had business to conclude before then, so I will delay you no longer.”

Wickham shifted uneasily in his seat. He could sense a change in the atmosphere as Philip Dobney left the room.

Bingley’s smile faded, and he looked to Mr. Williams for permission to proceed.

“You’ll find no resistance or condemnation from me — no matter the results.” He stood and moved to take a place at the door.

“Mr. Wickham,” Bingley began, “the Bennets are very dear friends of mine. I would find it particularly unsettling if something were to happen to any of them.”

Wickham eyed the man across from him suspiciously.

“You will leave Derbyshire, and you will not mention a word against Miss Lydia or her family, not in London, not in Brighton, not in Hertfordshire, not in any place in this world where word of your having done so might reach me.”

That did not seem so difficult. Bingley moved where Wickham did not — in Darcy’s circles. None of them would ever hear a word he spoke about anything. He smiled and nodded.

“No, Mr. Wickham, I do not believe you understand what I am saying. I am giving you the contents of this bag — five hundred pounds to do with as you choose. You will not come looking for more from me or anyone else associated with the Bennets, or you will find yourself in one of two places.” Bingley cast a glance over his shoulder toward Mr. Williams, who only smiled and found something outside the door to be of particular interest. “You will be either dead or wishing you were.”

Wickham’s eyes widened at the comment. He had not expected Bingley to threaten him in such a way. In fact, he had not expected Bingley to threaten him at all. Ah, but then he relaxed, Bingley was not capable of making good such a threat.

Bingley’s smile became predatory as he saw Wickham relax. “I am from trade, Mr. Wickham. I assure you there are unsavoury men of my acquaintance who, for a shilling, would see the matter resolved. And you mustn’t forget that my uncle’s ships have many interesting ports of call where you might be able to find a home if a wave does not sweep you off the deck.” Bingley slid the pouch of money across the table but did not lift his hand from it. He waited for Wickham to look him in the eye before he continued. “Five hundred pounds to keep silent, or you will repay it with your life. Have I made myself clear?”

“And if I do not take your blunt?”

“And not remain silent?” There was a slight growl to Bingley’s tone.

Wickham shrugged.

“Coaching inns and London streets are not safe.” Bingley’s glare was unwavering. “A loose step, a footpad — so many things can happen.” He pushed the packet of money closer to Wickham and removed his hand. “Your choice, Wickham. Five hundred quid for your silence or…” Bingley shrugged.

Wickham picked up the money, shifting the pouch from his right hand to his left before slipping it into his pocket. “I shall not say a word about any of this.”

Bingley stood. “See that you do not. My associates will be watching and listening.” He placed his ink and pen back into his bag and then gave Wickham one final hard look. “Do not mistake me for having the same scruples as my friend. He is a gentleman’s son. I am not.” Bingley took up his hat, and as he placed it on his head, the charming smile from earlier returned. “It has been a pleasure doing business with you gentlemen.” He gave a small bow and left the room.

“You are free to leave,” said Mr. Williams. “Do take care on the steps.”

Wickham patted the money in his pocket and blew out a breath. He was free to leave Derbyshire, and so he would, after a quick call on a friend who owed him a favour. He smiled. He would not be outwitted by the likes of Lydia Bennet and Charles Bingley. There were ways to remain silent and still exact his revenge — Darcy, Bingley, the Bennets, and the Dobneys — he chuckled. Not a one would be left unaffected.

The leading ladies of each book are (from left to right): Lucy, Elizabeth, Lydia, and Jane

The October 2024 Saturday Broadsheet

October 12, 2024

What a month October has been for some already! I hope you’re all hanging in there and are safe. We’re doing well up here in Nova Scotia. The leaves are starting to turn colours and soon we should see the full effect of that change before they start dropping and raking season begins. 🙂

I’ve finished the manuscript for How to Marry An Accomplished Lady and am working my way through some edits before I send it off to be proofread and returned for final edits. I have not started the short sequel that will go with that book yet. It’s on the schedule for next week.

I’m still working slowly through Oxford Cottage’s refresh and discovering that it will be impossible, without a full rewrite, to limit the point of views to just two or three, so I’m going to polish it up, add depth where I can, and limit the number of point of view shifts where possible but not stress over having more POVs than I wanted.

As you should know, I have started creating some audiobook versions of the vignettes that I have shared in the past in these newsletters and sharing them on YouTube. I’ve also started making my story connections posts into audio versions to share on YouTube using the same narrator.

As I am working my way through these short vignettes, I have learned some of the tricks and hacks to working with the digital voice I am using to make the stories sound as natural as is possible. That’s why I started with the short vignettes. (The voice I am using is a cloned voice that is made available for such use by the voice actor who is paid whenever their voice is used.)

I hope that this audio venture will make my writing more accessible to more people and that it will eventually open up a new means of earning money for my writing business through some audiobook sales on select platforms and through monetization of my YouTube channel. (And honestly, my business needs that because it’s struggling.)

One of the requirements for me to monetize my YT channel is to have 1000 subscribers. I’ve got 72 at this moment while I’m writing this. So, obviously, I’ve got a long way to go there! I’d love to have you subscribe to help that number grow!

(By the way, a new story vignette was added to the playlist this morning. You can listen to it here.)

I’ve also discovered some of the ways I can offer discounts on my Etsy shop, so I have one set up for this month. You can see the details of that below, and I have submitted my shop to be included in a promotion Etsy is running next month. So, that’ll be two new promos tried in two months.

There is so much to learn as you try new things! But one should always be learning in my way of thinking.

Let’s see, what else have I been doing?

Harriet and the Colonel, Ch. 2 (Part 1)

Find previous posts here.

Harriet carried her shoes as she tiptoed past her brother’s room on her way to the servant’s staircase. If she was going to prove to him that she could handle danger and be allowed to marry her colonel before she was past her prime, she needed to get an early start on the project.

And early it was.

She yawned as she opened the door to the staircase, startling a maid who was scurrying down the stairs. It had been a late night, or was that better said an early morning, for both her and her brother. Balls, especially ones hosted by Samantha, never ended before the wee hours of the morning. And, on the day after such a soiree, Edmund never rose before ten, which was yet three hours away and that meant that she would be well on her way around town before her brother noticed she was not in the breakfast room.

“Miss Philips!” (Mr. name), the cook cried. “You don’t look like you’re set to scrub my pots.” He teased with a chuckle. “Is this another time when I am not supposed to see you but should offer you a bit of cheese and toast?”

His eyes sparkled with amusement. Of all the cooks she had ever met, he had to be the most personable and likely, the most carefree, for he seemed not to be even a little bit afraid of being reprimanded for letting her escape. Mr. Barlow, the butler, and (Mrs. Name) the housekeeper were less obliging, which is why she liked to make a quick exit through the kitchen when needed.

“A little lunch to carry would be lovely. Have you seen Jimmy?”

(Mr. name) crossed to the kitchen door in three long strides. “Jimmy,” he shouted. “You are needed.” He turned back to Harriet who was buttering a couple of slices of bread. “He’ll be right with you, miss. Sally, get the young miss some cheese.” He took cloth from under his work bench. “Wrap it in this and take enough for Jimmy. We can’t have your protector become faint from hunger just so you can avoid your brother.” The last part was said with a pointed look.

“Are you going to tell him?”

(Mr. name) smiled and flicked his eyebrows upward. “Not until I see him. I do like my job well enough.”

“Where did you work before here?” Harriet asked when she noticed, not for the first time, that their new-as-of-last-autumn, cook walked with a slight limp.

“It’s in me papers, miss,” he answered.

She scowled. “And where would I find those papers?”

“I would imagine in the housekeeper’s room or your brother’s study,” he answered.

“Will you not just tell me?” she asked while wrapping the cheese Sally had brought her and the bread she had buttered in the towel (Mr. name) had given her.

“I know how you like a mystery.” He nodded his head smartly in greeting as Jimmy entered the kitchen.

A smile curled her lips and a chuckle escaped her. “What rank were you?” she asked. “Higher or lower than Jimmy?” Jimmy, she knew had been with her brother on the continent. That was why he was the groom she always asked to accompany her when she went out alone.

(Mr. name) laughed. “What makes you think I was in the army?”

“The way you nodded to Jimmy just now. It reminded me a great deal of how my brother greets Colonel Fitzwilliam.” Her brow furrowed. “In fact, now that I am thinking about it, my brother also greets you that way when he is down here pretending to get biscuits but doing something else which I have not yet quite figured out. However…” she tapped her lip. “I’d wager that what he is doing down here involves you, and that is why you do not fear being sacked as much as Barlow does. He was never on the continent with my brother you see, but Jimmy was, and I dare say so were you.”

(Mr. name) laughed again. “I’ve heard tell that you are clever. I thank you for the demonstration. I was a captain.”

“Which makes your rank higher than Jimmy’s.”

“It does,” Jimmy replied.

“Were you instructed to hide your connection to Edmund from me?”

The cook shook his head. “No, but your brother did think it would be a fun game to see how long it would be before you discovered it.” He nodded to Jimmy. “How long have you known Jimmy was in your brother’s unit?”

Harriet smiled as Jimmy groaned. “Just now. I knew he had been on the continent from his scar, but I had yet to confirm he was part of my brother’s unit.” She narrowed her eyes as she looked at Jimmy. “Is that why you would not tell me? Are you also part of this game my brother is playing?”

Jimmy nodded and smiled sheepishly. “He’s right proud of you.”

“That he is,” the cook agreed. “And I have to say, he said you’d have me figured out before a year was through. I was convinced I could get away with keeping my secret longer.” He tipped his head toward the door. “You should go before we’re discovered.” He put a hand on her parcel of food. “Take care to return safely because I do not want to have to face Colonel Philips as the one who let you escape if you do not.”

“That is why I have Jimmy.” She peeked to her left and her right before lowering her voice. “And a small pistol in my reticule.” The pistol had been a gift from Andrew after he conceded that he could not always see to Harriet’s safety, and therefore, thought it was best if she learned to defend herself.

Her brow furrowed. Had that truly been the reason? Or had Andrew known that trouble was outside the door so to speak. It had only been three months before he had died.

“Is there a problem, miss,” Jimmy asked from where he stood next to the door waiting for her to follow him.

Harriet shook her head. “No, I was just thinking about Andrew for a moment because my gun was a gift from him.” She smiled brightly even if she did not feel the expression. She couldn’t have these men worrying about Colonel Philips’s little sister any more than they likely were already tasked with doing. “Make sure dinner is exceptional, for I promise to return famished.” And with that, she stepped into the alley with Jimmy.