June 8, 2024
Summer.
For some, it has started.
For us, it is just around the corner. Next month, when school is no longer in session, it will be officially summer here. Of course, for some of you, summer is a couple seasons away. 🙂
Whether it is summer where you are or not, we have reach the middle of the year.
My older sister and I were talking about that this week when she called and neither of us could believe that nearly half a year had passed so quickly. That either means, I’ve been busy, or I’m just “old.” I remember time dragging when I was a kid, waiting for school to end. Ah! That’s it! I’m not teaching anymore so time seems to go faster — phew! It’s not because of age. 🙂 Haha!
I think having been under the weather for two weeks has also helped with the “time is flying without my noticing it” feeling. I’m almost all the way better now. However, my brain is feeling the effects, so catching up on work has been slower than I’d expected.
That being said, I have managed to get up through chapter seven of How to Marry an Accomplished Lady (without losing one’s mind) written. So, that’ good progress, and puts me at about the halfway point on that story.
Oxford Cottage is still awaiting attention. I’ve redone one chapter and have the document set up to do the second, but I haven’t gotten to it yet.
I’ve also got a few other writing and non-writing projects on the go, so really, it’s been a good, productive month since I last shared a Saturday Broadsheet with you. (Even with having to take time off to convalesce.)
So, now, let’s get on to the book news and then, a throwback story vignette (that goes with Oxford Cottage) to conclude this broadsheet.
NOW POSTING IN THE REPOSITORY ON REAM AND ON PATREON
This is just a reminder that How to Marry… is now posting on Fridays on Patreon and Ream Stories. We are at the point in the story where you do have to be a paid subscriber to read, but chapters 1-3 remain free to read as a preview to all unpaid subscribers.
This is part of an exchange between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Collins from this week’s chapter of the story. Suffice it to say that the two do not see eye to eye on many (or is that most) things.
IN THE TEAROOM
It was MY turn to post in the The Sigh-worthy Romance Tearoom this month. I shared a behind the scenes glimpse at my real and writing life via pictures.
eBOOK DEALS
First I MUST begin by telling you to look for an email/post on JUNE 28. I am taking part in a multi-author, stuff-your-ereader-with-JAFF sort of event. It is for ONLY ONE DAY, so make sure you’re watching for that email/post. All the books in it will be FREE for that day.
Now, let’s move on to my other book deals.
These are the deals you will find on my Book Promotions page HERE. « Go here to find links to stores, etc.
Loving Lydia is FREE on Amazon for three days only, so make sure you grab that before Monday is over.
With the Colonel’s Help is $0.99 USD, CAD, AUD, NZD, GBP, and EUR, with all other currencies also reduced, until the end of the month, and it is available on a variety of stores.
Something that both of these books have in common are the fact that Colonel Fitzwilliam plays a significant roll in them. In the one, he’s being helped by Darcy to not give up on finding his happiness, while in the other, he’s helping Darcy do the same. And, as you will see, the Colonel Fitzwilliam theme continues in this month’s story vignette.
But before we get to that…
This is the free read at both Ream and Patreon this month. It happens to be the prequel to my current work in progress.
SOMETHING OLD TO READ
Now to get to the Colonel Fitzwilliam story…
Years ago when I was writing Oxford Cottage I wrote the short story below to go with it.
It was published at one time in a collection of six short stories called Teatime Tales. Some of you might even still have that collection, which is not available any longer because I’ve expanded most of the stories in it: Two Days in November, From Tolerable to Lovely, and A Battle of Wills and Words. And the Teatime Tales collection is now a series of novelettes.
There are only two of the original Teatime Tales that have never been expanded. One of them was a love letter from Edmund to Fanny and the other is this story, A Music Room Meeting.
I’ve always been undecided about expanding on the Edmund to Fanny letter, though it’s possible that it could fit in nicely with my Other Pens series. So maybe I’ll consider it in the future. (I’ve mostly been hesitant on that one because I know my love for Mansfield Park is not the norm with Austen fans.)
A Music Room Meeting, however, I’ve long wanted to play around with.
I’ve had this idea floating in my brain since 2015 about a book or series of stories that happen Beyond Oxford Cottage. The idea has always featured at least one story with the colonel and Harriet as the central characters, but over the years, it has grown to be an idea that could include more than one Harriet and the colonel story.
Why haven’t I done it? Because it scared me. I wasn’t sure I was ready to write romantic intrigues, which I kind of expected these might be. I’m still not sure if I am or not. LOL And I wasn’t sure if writing them would be putting time into something that wouldn’t pay me back for that time.
(It’s just reality that I need to earn my keep from my books if I want to keep writing. They won’t take story words as payment for electricity or groceries. They insist upon my using money. 😉 Shocking! I know. Haha! )
That being said, maybe now that I’m revisiting Oxford Cottage… maybe now is the time to indulge that desire, conquer those anxious butterflies, and get it sorted out. What do you think? Is it worth doing? Would you read romantic intrigues starring Harriet and the colonel? Let me know in the comments.
One thing I know for sure, is that I want to expand this story – at least a bit – and even if I never write more stories for Harriet and the colonel.
And I want to do it in a series of Saturday Broadsheet vignettes (aka chapters). But before I do that, I thought it’d be fun to revisit the original, and that way, you can see how much it changes as I set about making it into what will maybe be a prequel or origin story for Beyond Oxford Cottage.
Enjoy!
(FYI: This story is just over 3100 words. So, plan your reading time accordingly. 🙂 )
A melody, haunting and beautiful, drew Harriet down the hall. Quietly, she opened the door and slipped silently into the room, taking a seat directly behind the player.
His body moved with the emotion of the music, falling forward, raising back, following his hands as they moved up or down the instrument. The melody seemed to flow from him as if it were a part of him, being breathed into existence.
She dashed away a tear. How was it that a man such as he could make the air swirl with emotion? She had not even known he played. The gentleman before her clashed with the person she had always known. He was the one everyone looked to for strength. He was the one to lighten the mood with a well-placed, though not always proper, joke. Unless severely provoked, he was always a picture of cheerful composure.
His fingers held the last chord until it faded into silence. Only then did his hands fall away from the keys. His shoulders sagged, and his head drooped for a moment before he straightened, assuming his normal rigid pose.
She paused for a moment to admire his form before alerting him to her presence. “I did not know you played, Colonel.”
Richard spun around. “Miss Phillips!” He stood quickly and bowed. “I did not hear you enter.”
She smiled at him. “As intended.” She raised an eyebrow. “I was afraid you would stop playing if you knew I was here.” She motioned for him to take a seat next to her.
He chuckled. “I would have.”
“You play very well.”
“Thank you. It is my mother’s doing. She insisted on all her children learning at least one instrument.”
“At least one instrument? Do you play anything else?”
He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “I do.”
“Which?” She leaned toward him in anticipation.
He shook his head. “One disclosure is enough for tonight. The others shall remain my secret.” His eyes searched the room. “Perhaps you could share a secret with me since you have discovered one of mine. How is it that you are here unattended? Surely you did not arrive at tonight’s fete unaccompanied. Lillesley would never hear of such a thing. He did escort you, did he not?” Her brothers had always taken prodigious care of their sisters, especially Harriet as she was the youngest and most prone to finding trouble.
“He did, but he was quite preoccupied with several debutantes and their mothers. It seems unusually easy for some ladies to shift their preference from one gentleman to another. I suppose it is the title they truly admire.” There was a hint of bitterness in her words.
“Forgive me. I have not had the opportunity to extend my condolences to you on the passing of your brother.”
“Thank you. It has been nearly a year.” She smiled sadly. “Yet it seems so much longer. Edmund has struggled to find his feet with all the new responsibilities that have fallen to him. Has he written to you about it?”
Colonel Edmund Phillips, now Lord Lillesley, had been on the continent with Richard when the news of his brother Matthew’s death had summoned him home.
Richard shrugged. “He has made mention of some of his difficulties, but I believe he looks more to my brother and father for guidance on such matters than myself. What do I know about the business of being a Viscount and sitting in the House of Lords?”
Since childhood Richard and Edmund had scampered along behind their brothers, following their footsteps but knowing they were the lesser sons. There had been a comfort in the understanding of the position they shared. Now, that was gone. Edmund was now the heir and as such, a step above a mere second son. His goals must now shift. His interest must change. His position was no longer one of equal rank. He was elevated both in title and in position as Richard’s superior. They remained friends, of course, and always would, but it was not as it was. It was a fact which stung.
“You would be mistaken if you think he does not value your opinion.”
Again he shrugged. “He may value my opinions, but that is all they are ─ theories devised through observation. What he needs is knowledge based on experience, and that I cannot give him.”
She laid her hand on his arm, as thrilling a touch to her now as it had ever been. His arm was so firm beneath her fingers. She had always drawn comfort from his strength. He had always been ready to protect and defend her. It was his shoulder she had longed to weep on when her brother had been taken, and it was his absence that had made her grieving so much more acute.
“What he needs is the support of friends. That, you can give.” There was no chiding in her voice, no pleading or coercing tone. It was stated as an unarguable fact.
Richard chuckled. “Always to the point, are you not Harry? It is good to know some things remain the same.” He placed his hand over hers. “Although, I may not have recognized you. You have become a beautiful young lady in the past two years. Do you have the young swains swooning at your feet? Is that why you have hidden away in the music room when you should be dancing the night away with the other debs?”
She coloured and lowered her eyes. “There are a few who gather, but none who interest.”
“None good enough?” he teased, secretly glad no gentleman had yet captured her attention. “Is it their lack of standing, or do they have some hideous physical defect?”
She snatched her hand from him and stood, placing both hands on her hips. “Is this what you think of me? That I have changed so much in two years as to have no thought in my head that runs deeper than a gentleman’s looks and the size of his bank account?”
“Do not fly into the bows, Harry. I was teasing. I know you have many thoughts running rampant in that pretty head of yours.”
She turned away from him.
“Obviously, I struck a nerve, and I am sorry. Has your brother been pressuring you to choose? Or is it the transfer of affections by others from Matthew to Edmund which has you uncharacteristically sensitive?” There was concern in his voice.
She shook her head as she turned back to him. “Edmund has not been pressuring me exactly. He mentions this or that fellow but has made no comment further than what a fine catch they would be. As if signing your life away to another was as easily chosen as the menu for dinner.” She threw her hands in the air in exasperation. She had always found speaking to Richard to be easy. Now, though she had not seen him in years, was no different, and her frustrations bubbled up and tumbled out of her mouth. “It seems, from listening to my brother, that all the ingredients for an ideal marriage are present if the man is not painful to look upon, is of a reasonable age for producing offspring, has an estate which is profitable or would be with the influx of my dowry─ and should he have a title, well, that is like adding the finest wine to the menu! Not once has he made mention of my feelings or the feelings of the gentleman for me. Is it so wrong to wish for a marriage that includes affection?” She blinked her eyes to keep the tears from spilling down her cheeks. How silly she must appear! Surely he would laugh at such a display. She turned away so as not to see the look of amusement she was sure was on his face.
A hand, large and strong, rested lightly on her shoulder. “No,” he said softly, “it is not wrong to wish for such a thing. My father has long said he will not abide any of his children marrying where their heart is not attached.”
“So you will marry for love?” She looked at him with questioning eyes.
“I hope to, but my position is not considered highly desirable so it may not be possible.”
She noted the look of sadness in his eye.
“But your father would surely help you secure a love match, would he not?”
“If I asked, I have no doubt he would move heaven and earth to make it so. But, I will not ask. I have no desire to always wonder if it was me or my connections which caused a lady to choose me.” He shrugged sadly. “Male pride, I suppose.” He brushed a lock of hair away from her face. “So, no young buck has touched your heart?”
She shook her head. “None of the men who beg my hand to dance or come to call or send flowers.”
“But there is one who has?”
She nodded. He was so close. Her heart wished to tell him that it had long belonged to him. “And your heart. Has there been a young lady who has touched it?”
He nodded. “But it cannot be.”
“Why?”
“I am a younger son. I must have a profession, and the one which I have chosen is considered too dangerous. Her brother does not wish for his sister to end a young widow or married to a man who has been disfigured. He is wise to think so. My body and spirit are scarred, but I have been spared the debilitating injuries so many others must now bear. And, praise God, I still retain my life.” He walked to the window and looked out into the yet barren garden.
She moved to stand near him. “Is this why you play instead of dancing?”
He closed his eyes. “How can I dance when others cannot?”
“But it is not your doing. You do not decide with whom our country engages in battle.”
He cast a rueful look over his shoulder. “I gave orders which resulted in loss of life and limb. I cannot yet forget and make merry. Perhaps in time.”
She studied him for a few moments. The weight of his memories rested heavily upon him. It was evident in the slight droop to his shoulders. “But if you were asked by someone who would be most grievously injured if you refused, would you dance? Just once, and in private, if you wished it?”
He chuckled. “You have always known how to word things so I cannot but answer as you wish.” The melody of a waltz whispered through the air. “Just one dance, Harriet, no more.” He extended his hand. “Have you been granted permission to waltz?”
Her eyes sparkled as she accepted his hand. “Permission? I am sure I do not need permission to waltz in the privacy of my sister’s music room.”
He shook his head. “If anyone should find us there will be penance to pay for us both.”
“It is a risk I am willing to take.” She barely contained a sigh as he pulled her into his embrace. “And, I shall defend your honour with my dying breath.”
“Oh, Harriet! It is the gentleman who is to say such gallant things, not the lady.”
“And you are to sound gruff and unfriendly when you scold, not amused.”
“We make a hopeless pair, do we not?” He led her gracefully around the room in the steps of a well-practiced waltz.
“You will be safe now.” She broke the silence which surrounded them.
“I beg your pardon?” His brows pulled together in confusion.
“Now that you are here instead of on the continent, you are safe. That should ease the mind of whoever it is who opposes your match with the lady who holds your heart.” She tried to ignore the pinching pain in her chest and allowed herself to step a little closer to him. If he was to be another’s, she wished to have this one dance to remember.
“My work still has risks of which her brother is aware. Until he is convinced that I am capable of protecting her, nothing will change.”
“But your work,” she stopped dancing. “If you are to work for Edmund, no one will know of the dangers. Edmund’s work is not what it seems, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” He gently pulled her back into the dance. He did not wish to miss a moment of holding her in his arms. “Now, what of the gentleman who has your heart? Does he know of it?” Silence answered his question for some minutes.
Without warning, Harriet once again stopped her movement nearly tripping him in the process. “You work with him!”
“I work with him?” His mind began to go through the names of the men with whom he worked. There were several who were favourites with the ladies, and a few who could aspire to the daughter of a Viscount. Perhaps . . .
“How else would he know of the dangers you face?” She interrupted his musings.
“I am afraid you have lost me once again. Your train of thought is proving to be rather challenging to follow this evening.”
She laughed at the bewildered look on his face. “I am sorry, Richard. I was still reasoning out the puzzle of who would know of your work. What was your question?”
“I asked about the gentleman who has touched your heart.” He watched her eyes narrow as she studied some thought. “Again, you are not attending.” He moved to step away, but she grabbed his arm.
“Edmund.” It was barely audible, more a breath than a name. Her eyes were wide with shock. A smile spread across her face. “Was it Edmund who refused you?”
Richard swallowed. He had hoped she would reason it out. No, he had known she would. He had not, however, counted on the realization occurring while she was still in his company. But, she did not look displeased by the idea, so he nodded.
“Oh, thank God.” She threw her arms around his neck. “Thank God,” she murmured once again.
“You will have to explain to me what has made you so deliriously happy. Is it the fact that your brother has refused me, so you have nothing to fear?” He tried to pull back to look at her, but she held fast, her head laying against his heart.
“It is you.”
“Harriet, please. You are driving me to Bedlam with your incoherent answers.”
She drew back to look at him. “I love you, and you love me. That is why I am so happy.”
“Did you not hear me say he refused me? He may value me as a friend, but he does not desire me to become anything more.” Gently, he stroked her cheek. “How I wish he did.”
“He will.” She smiled at him. “I can be very persistent. You do remember how often he gave in to my wishes when we were young, do you not? I assure you, he has not changed so much. But should he dig in his heels, I will eventually be of age. I shall have you Richard Fitzwilliam. You shall marry me.”
He leaned his forehead against hers. “My heart shall never belong to another, but your brother…”
“Is your friend and superior?”
He nodded.
“That does make it somewhat challenging.” There was an impish glint in her eye and a pert smile on her lips. Richard did not know whether to groan or laugh at her eagerness to take on a challenge, so instead, he kissed her forehead. He watched as her brows drew together and her lips pursed while she thought. He waited for her to finish thinking, happy to simply hold her.
“Oh!” She had obviously come to a solution. “I shall speak to Lord Matlock if need be. My brother is most anxious to keep his approval.”
“Harriet, I do not wish to speak to my father.”
She grasped his face with her hands. “And you shall not have to. I shall.” Before he could reply, she drew his head down and kissed him, gently at first but then with a greater urgency, clinging to him as if he was her life.
He pulled her firmly against him, holding her there as he broke the kiss. “You should return to your brother before he comes looking for you.”
“Let him find us.” She giggled. “It would speed things along.”
“Harriet…” The tone of his voice held a warning. “I have no desire to begin a life together with your brother in a temper, nor do I wish to resort to manipulating him through my father.” He paused. “I cannot lose another friend. I am not happy to wait, but I am willing to do so.” He pulled her more tightly against him. “However, I shall endeavor to understand if you cannot and wish to look elsewhere.”
She pushed against him to no avail, his grasp on her was far too strong. “Richard Charles Anthony Fitzwilliam,” she scolded into his chest. “I shall not be so easily swayed from my affections.”
He grinned at the soft stamp of her foot.
“Have I not already said I would wait until I was of age? You would truly let me go?” She ended with a huff.
“Does it feel as though I wish to let you go?” He kissed the top of her head. “I do not hold you here as I do simply to keep you from speaking your mind and storming away ─ although that is part of it.” There was another huff against his chest which made him chuckle. “My darling Harriet, I could only let you go if it meant securing your happiness–though it would break my heart.”
“Then you shall never be rid of me, for my happiness shall not be complete without you.” She sighed and relaxed into his hold. “Will you not return to the ballroom and dance with me?”
“I cannot.” He kissed her lightly before releasing her. “Go, dance.”
“Will you not come with me?” She held his hands in hers.
“I think it best if we return separately, so I shall remain here and practise.” He nodded to the piano. “I promise I will not hide away all night.”
She slowly released his hands. “I shall save all my waltzes for you.”
He raised his brows. “So you have been granted permission?”
Her pert smile had returned. “No, but many places have music rooms.”
He shook his head and chuckled as she slipped out of the room.
Remember to leave a comment about if I should write more stories with these two as hero and heroine.
