“Ah, yes, I believe I shall enjoy this article very much,” he answered, tucking the paper and monetary contents in his breast pocket.
“Be sure that you do. Should I have need of your services in the future, where may I contact you?”
“Younge’s boarding house—Prusom Street, on the east side of Town.” The man then tipped his hat, the lady curtsied, and the two of them left as quickly as they had come.
~ Finis ~
Other Books by Jennifer Redlarczyk
DARCY’S MELODY ~ PREVIEW
Inspired by Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice comes "Darcy’s Melody." In the year 1811 the war with France continues to rage, sending many injured men home to England where accommodations are limited. Raising funds to build an additional structure at the London Hospital for the wounded has become a top priority for Lady Eleanor Fitzwilliam, Countess of Matlock. She has not only enlisted members of the ton to assist with her committee, but women who are well-known throughout the trade community. It is within this endeavour that Elizabeth Bennet and Georgiana Darcy meet through a mutual love of music. This is the story of how music and friendship bring two families together, challenging Fitzwilliam Darcy to embrace a new melody within his heart.
FROM CHAPTER ONE
London
Tuesday, 21 May 1811
Early afternoon
Ballard’s was an eclectic treasure trove of rare first editions and unusual books located on the thoroughfare of Piccadilly. Although it appeared somewhat dingy and dimly lit from the outside, inside the ageing building the atmosphere was inviting, and a vast array of literature beckoned lovers of the written word.
Promptly at one o’clock, Fitzwilliam Darcy entered the bookshop and walked directly towards his favoured section. While paging through a military war journal, he instinctively glanced toward the back of the shop. Even with several patrons milling about the establishment today, Darcy’s eyes were drawn to a young lady who appeared to be examining a small book in the poetry section.
Closing the journal, Darcy ambled over to where the woman stood and began perusing the titles on a nearby shelf. After taking a book in hand, he purposely turned his head towards the young lady. Captivated by her large, dark emerald-green eyes sparkling with mischief, he felt his lips curve into a half smile when she spoke.
“Pray, sir, may I trouble you to hand me the book of Cowper poetry on the upper shelf?”
Darcy nodded. “With pleasure. Cowper is an excellent choice.”
As he reached for the book, she continued, “One poem in particular reminds me of Oakham Mount in Hertfordshire. I find I am rather desirous of its solace today if only through the eyes of the poet.”
Handing her the book, he answered in kind. “I understand your sentiments for I, too, am from the country and have longed to return to Derbyshire.”
Arching an eyebrow in his direction, she inclined her head and said, “I thank you, sir.”
“You are most welcome.”
As she turned the pages of her selection in search of the poem, Darcy heard the young lady gasp when both of her books slid out of her hands and onto the floor. “Oh dear,” she sighed, stooping down to retrieve them.
“Allow me,” he immediately offered. Both reaching for the books, Darcy felt her small, warm hand carefully slip a folded piece of paper into the palm of his own. The young lady had not replaced her glove after perusing her own book, and her skin was soft to the touch. Leaning closer, the faint scent of lavender seemed to strengthen, causing his chest to tighten and his heart to quicken in response.
Feigning innocence, she looked up at him and said, “Again, sir, I am in your debt. Perhaps I should make my purchases before I have another mishap.”
“Permit me to carry these to the desk for you.”
Acknowledging his offer with a slight curtsey, the young lady whispered, “Sir, I think we are being observed.” Then speaking louder, she added, “Thank you again. You are most kind.”
“Your servant.” He bowed. With his senses heightened from being forewarned of impending danger, Darcy spoke softly in return, “How did you come? I would not have you leave here unescorted.”
“There is a carriage waiting, sir. A manservant is nearby and a maid is within.”
“Then leave now and be careful.”
After he placed the books on the counter, the young lady thanked Darcy, made her purchase, and quickly exited the shop. From where he stood, Darcy watched the footman assist her into the carriage. Assured of her safety, he abruptly turned and faced the observing patron who had folded his newspaper and was preparing to leave the shop.
“Excuse me, have we met?”
The man was obviously confused and stammered, “I … I think so. You are Mr. erm.… ”
“Fitzwilliam Darcy. And you are?”
“My name is … is Gerard Mooreland, and if I remember correctly, my son, Jonathan, was a classmate of yours at university some years back.”
Darcy furrowed his brow for a moment in thought. “I do not seem to recall the name. Do you care to refresh my memory?”
“My … my son was a master with the blade and was an active participant in the fencing club,” Mooreland boasted through a somewhat crooked smile.
With no recollection of either man, Darcy made further inquiries after which he gave Mooreland his card and requested his son pay him a visit when he was next in Town. Concluding their conversation, Darcy made his purchase and left the bookshop being rather unsettled.
A VERY MERRY MIX-UP ~ PREVIEW
It all began when Fitzwilliam Darcy and his cousin Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam stopped at the posting station in Bromley on their way to Rosings Park for their annual visit. Looking for some diversion, the good colonel happened upon a local Romani woman who was selling her people’s treasured Moon Wine. Find out what happens to some of our favourite Jane Austen characters when her advice is ignored in A Very Merry Mix-up.
FROM CHAPTER ONE
1 April 1811
All Fool’s Day
Kent
Fitzwilliam Darcy yawned and stretched, squinting as the early morning light flickered through the partially opened curtains of his bedroom window. For some unknown reason, he had not slept well. Bleary-eyed and wondering if the potent wine he had drunk on the previous evening had been the cause, he slowly rolled over intending to stay in bed a bit longer. To his chagrin, his senses were alerted when his hand met with the soft, warm body of a woman.
“Good God! Who are you?” he bellowed, startling the woman who was sharing his bed.
The woman’s breath nearly caught in her throat when she turned over and saw who was by her side. “WHAT, may I ask, are YOU doing in MY bed?” Quickly pulling the sheets up to her neckline, she continued. “I demand you leave THIS INSTANT!”
“You are…. You are Mrs. Collins!” he shouted in distress.
“Mrs. Collins!” she shouted back. “Sir, you are mad! I am your cousin, Elizabeth Bennet, and I DO believe my dear friend Charlotte will NOT be happy when I tell her of your indiscretion.”
“MY indiscretion?! Madam, you are in MY bed!”
Quickly rising, Darcy felt a little unsteady and found it necessary to hold on to the bed post while searching for his robe. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he staggered closer to the glass and groaned in disbelief. Slowly rubbing his stubby fingers across his ruddy cheeks and through his oily hair, he wondered if he had indeed gone mad. Wiping those same fingers on the front of his nightshirt, he could not help but feel his flabby chest and the protrusion of his round stomach through the cloth. Grasping the reality of his predicament, Darcy stared at himself with revulsion.
“Merciful Heaven!” he thundered, turning back to the woman. “It is me, Fitzwilliam Darcy, in the body of that idiot rector! If you are Miss Elizabeth Bennet, as you claim, I fear we have both become the victims of some cruel joke. Will you not come and look for yourself?”
Picking up Charlotte’s dressing gown and quick
ly wrapping it around herself, Elizabeth guardedly went to the mirror as he requested. “Mr. Darcy?” She paled, realizing what he said was true. “How … how could this have happened?”
“I do not know,” he said momentarily pinching his brow in hope of staving off a sudden headache. “But … I have a feeling Colonel Fitzwilliam may have some answers. I suspect this misfortune has something to do with the wine which he offered us following dinner.”
“The wine?”
“Yes,” he nearly hissed. “Did you not feel a little strange after drinking it?”
“I did, but I thought it was nothing more than the warmth of the room created by the burning logs which were piled high for Miss de Bourgh’s comfort.”
“At the time, my thoughts were the same as yours.” He scowled. “In retrospect, I am more inclined to believe it was not the heat, but rather the wine which we consumed. The good colonel insisted on buying that particular bottle from an old woman who was selling it out of the posting station at Bromley on our journey here. While I have never been one to embrace superstitions, in this instance perhaps I should have paid more attention. I vaguely remember overhearing the woman cautioning my cousin when it came to drinking the wine and making wishes during a full moon.”
“Oh, dear,” Elizabeth murmured more to herself than to Darcy. “Yesterday evening, the moon was full, and the last thing I remember was wishing I could see you….” Gasping, she took a step back not wanting to say more.
“What!” he demanded.
“Forgive me.” She tried to remain calm. “You are always so fastidious in your appearance, Mr. Darcy. I … I merely wondered what it would be like to see you in … in a more unkempt state. I promise you, I would never wish to see any man exchange places with Mr. Collins. That would be too cruel, indeed. Pray, sir, did you not make a wish of your own to have ended up in this predicament with me?” Her eyes suddenly grew wide realizing the truth of what Mr. Darcy’s stares must have meant all along. It must have been admiration and not simply to find fault.
Clearing his throat, Darcy stated, “It matters not what I wished for, Madam. More importantly, we need to find out who else was affected by the wine and what course of action can be taken to rectify this dilemma.”
“Yes, of course.” Her face coloured. “Mr. Darcy, you will find Mr. Collins’ room through the door just behind you. It would be best if you took your leave now. I should like to dress and find out if Charlotte has taken my place.”
“I beg your pardon. Forgive me, I was not thinking. I should not be here and shall leave you at once.” His face reddened at the impropriety of his appearance and the situation he found himself in.
“I shall await your arrival downstairs. For now, it would be best if we do nothing to alert the servants of the changes which have taken place. Meanwhile, I shall send a note to my cousin asking him to come directly.” Darcy abruptly left the room feeling very unsettled.
A TASTE OF PEANUT BUTTER ~ PREVIEW
Elizabeth Bennet has a passion for baking and peanut butter happens to be her signature ingredient. William Darcy’s family owns the Pemberley Network where she is a contestant in their next bake off. Will their newly found romance be complicated by a conflict of interest? Find out in A TASTE OF PEANUT BUTTER.
FROM CHAPTER ONE
O’Hare International airport
Friday afternoon, late spring
“So, did you have to pay extra to check your overweight bag?” Jane Bennet stood with her hands on her hips and gave her younger sister a quizzical look.
“I did—a total of one hundred dollars to be precise. Can you believe it? My bag was only nine pounds over the limit. Heck, I could have checked in an extra suitcase for that price. If only peanut butter didn’t weigh so much.”
Jane giggled. “Lizzy, you probably wouldn’t have had to pay a thing if you only left some of your baking pans and that ridiculous Chinese wok behind. Plus you wouldn’t have had to stuff so much in your carry-on and backpack.”
“What are you talking about? My flat is almost barren when it comes to kitchenware. Okay, I admit I probably could have gotten by without the wok even though I did promise my teammates from the bank that I’d cook Thai when we start working on our hospitality booth for Wimbledon. Believe me, by that time they will have had their fill of my practice desserts. Nevertheless, the bake off is coming up, and I need every single one of those baking pans if I’m going to keep practicing. I have big plans for my babies—chocolate peanut butter cream pie, peanut butter spice cake, not to mention my killer cheesecake. I only hope I don’t run short of peanut butter. The good stuff is like gold in the UK.”
“Now you listen to me Elizabeth Anne Bennet! With the exception of the contest, you, my dear sister, are supposed to be taking a hiatus from cooking. Your roomy, Charlotte, is absolutely right. You will never get a decent guy to like you for the smart, intelligent, beautiful woman you are if you keep flaunting your cooking skills at every turn. Men aren’t normal when it comes to your culinary expertise. It’s like they’re on drugs or something. I’m tired of hearing about all the bozos who somehow think they’ve struck it rich with their own personal chef while forgetting how to treat you like a real date. I’d like to know, dear sister, when was the last time a guy friend invited you out to dinner instead of having you come over to his place with your apron in hand.”
“Look Jane,” she huffed. “I won’t stop being who I am. That’s all there is to it. With going to school and my internship at the UBI, I have a very stressful schedule. Not to mention, I have to suffer through a nasty test on derivatives as soon as classes resume. Then, in addition to Wimbledon, our team is organizing another gala event for early autumn. Believe me; I need a diversion after putting in so many hours between the bank and school. Feeding my friends is how I relax.”
Jane couldn’t resist giving her younger sister a big hug. “Okay, I understand. I just wish you would give Charlotte’s plan a try the next time you go out with a new guy. How hard could it be to refrain from talking about your hobby on the first date? Better still—wait till you’ve had three. You know what they say—the third time’s the charm. Sweetie, I would love to see you graduate from Elizabeth Bennet, personal cook, pal or surrogate sister to girlfriend extraordinaire!”
“I know.” She pouted.
“Hey, don’t give me that. I want assurance and a pinky promise that you’ll at least try.” The two laughed as they went through the ritual.
“All right, I promise, I’ll do my best. But if….”
“No buts! Oh, I almost forgot. Here’s my reader. See if you can squeeze it in your bag. I loaded it with my favourite, Pride and Prejudice. Maybe you can take a hint from your namesake and challenge yourself to find a real Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth let out a hearty laugh. “Oh, Jane, I love how you have me giving up my cooking passion and meeting Mr. Darcy all in one fell swoop. You are without question one demanding sister!”
“Not really. I’m simply a romantic at heart, just like you. Now, get on through security. I’d better go before Dad gets a ticket out there in the mob.” The two sisters hugged, and Jane waved as she rushed toward the exit. “Don’t forget to text me once you get squared away on the other side. Love you!”
“Okay, Sis! I love you, too!” Elizabeth called as she clumsily lugged all of her things to the closest security checkpoint. Removing her sandals and pulling out all electronic devices from her backpack, she quickly filled two grey plastic holding bins and managed to hoist her overstuffed carry-on onto the conveyor belt.
Little did Elizabeth Bennet realise, however, that she was being closely eyed by a very interested party of the male persuasion. Captivated by the perky brunette, he had overheard her entire conversation and was now formulating his own plan.
Curious, I never thought of dating an American. She said that she is an intern at the UBI. I wonder why I haven’t ever seen her there. Of course, there are loads of interns at the bank. He couldn’t help smiling w
hile candidly giving her the once over. Beautiful, long, dark, silky hair—nice. And her eyes…. I could easily get lost in those dark chocolate orbs if given the chance. Great figure and even more important, she cooks. I’ve never dated a woman who liked to cook. My dates would rather have me wine and dine them at expensive restaurants. Without a doubt, this Elizabeth is different from all the other Elizabeth Bennets I’ve ever met, or any other woman for that matter. She’s so … unpretentious, refreshing and obviously not a part of the corporate set. I wonder. Richard did suggest that I consider stepping out of my comfort zone for a change. Maybe….
About the Author
Jennifer Redlarczyk
I am a private music instructor living in Crown Point, Indiana where I teach voice, violin and piano and work as an adjunct music professor at Purdue University Northwest in Hammond, Indiana. As a teen, I was introduced to Jane Austen by my mother who loved old books, old movies and old songs. In the summer of 2011, I stumbled upon Jane Austen Fanfiction at a local book store and became a loyal fan of this genre. Since then, I met several talented JAFF authors and devoted readers who were active on social media and eventually became a moderator for the private JAFF forum, DarcyandLizzy.com. It was there that I first tried my hand at writing short stories. I have the greatest appreciation for the creative world of Jane Austen Fanfiction and am thrilled to be a part of the JAFF community. You can find me at: DarcyandLizzy.com, Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and YouTube. On my Pinterest page you will find inspiration pictures for each chapter of A Holiday to Remember as well as my other books. ~ Jennifer Redlarczyk (Jen Red) ~ ♫ ~
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