by Dana R. Lynn
The novelty of being called Miss Bennet, plus the freedom from comparisons to her sisters, resulted in Kitty settling down. She eventually married the son of the local curate. Lydia found her wild behavior was not as much fun with no one around to follow her into trouble. She married Captain Denny from Colonel Foster’s regiment. Alas, even married she continued to be an unruly gossip and flirt.
Satisfied that her years of matchmaking had paid off, Mrs. Bennet spent her time visiting her friends and talking about her numerous grandchildren. She was delighted to have the opportunity to see them more than she had expected. Mr. Bennet, missing the sharp wit of his Lizzy, frequently convinced his wife of the need to visit the Darcys in both their London home and at Pemberly.
Mr. Bennet had grown to admire all his sons-in-law, although he was especially fond of this tall, dignified man, who was willing to defy society and his own family for the love of Elizabeth. He was further touched when Fitzwilliam Darcy, the master of Pemberly, informed him that he faithfully got down on his knees every night and thanked God for giving him a second chance to win the love and respect of Elizabeth, who was worth more than all the wealth he possessed.
Bennet looked at the serious man with tears glistening in his eyes.
“Amen, son. Amen.”
About the Author
Dana R. Lynn grew up near Chicago, but now lives in rural Pennsylvania with her husband, three children, and enough animals to fill a small petting zoo. She is an avid reader, and enjoys a wide variety of genres and authors, although her favorite will always be Jane Austen. She loves writing inspirational stories, both contemporary and regency.
Also from Astraea Press
Chapter One
Honor. Truth. Loyalty. All noble. All good.
Most of the time.
Sir Gerald sharpened his blade, the clashing sound of metal on metal, the sparks flying pleasing him. He had never dueled before, but a few hours' time and that would change.
Blood pounded through him, hot and steady, a constant reminder of all he still had and all his love had lost.
"I can do that," Edwin said. Shadows from the flickering flames within the smithy covered his hand that reached toward the sword.
Gerald merely glared at his squire. Competent, yes, if a tad overeager. "I do believe I told ye several times now that your services are not required this day."
"I will not leave ye." Edwin lifted his chin. A gesture of both defiance and loyalty at the same moment.
He grunted.
"The blade willna sharpen more." The blacksmith picked up a hammer. Evidently some aspect in the fire told him the temperature now burned hot enough to temper new weapons.
With a great deal of reluctance, Gerald handed the fourteen-year-old his sword.
The blacksmith nodded and returned to his work.
The smithy felt like the gate to Hell, the heat immense and growing ever hotter. Still, Gerald did not move, mesmerized by the licking, greedy flames. It had been a fiery night when he first met her. Ever since, he stopped by the smithy daily, paused whenever he saw a flame, and lingered by the dying embers of his campfires.
It was she who necessitated his duel.
"Are ye certain about this?" Edwin asked.
A question the boy had asked many a time after Gerald laid down the gauntlet.
"Quite." Ever his reply. How could he not? As a knight, duty dictated his actions.
"But…" Edwin shifted his weight from side to side. Always boundless energy. His tongue never stopped wagging. It could cause him trouble down the cobbled road if never did he learn to appreciate silence.
For now, at least, Gerald would humor him. "Go on."
"Ye and she… Ye were not even promised to one another."
True, but in their hearts they were. The problem lay with that, that and jealousy.
Gerald filled his broad chest with a strong inhale. "One day, ye will understand. Honor, truth, and loyalty will only get ye so far. Love, though, it lifts ye up, alters your very outlook on life, changes your life itself. Love is all that matters."
The hammering stopped. Although the smithy was loud and prone to echo, Gerald and Edwin had long ago learned how close to be, how loud to speak to be heard despite it. The silence now prevailing in the smithy unnerved Gerald far more than the prospect of dying that late afternoon.
Almis the blacksmith grunted. "Love be not so grand. Love be trouble." His dark eyes fixed on Gerald. "Love be death."
"Death is release," Gerald countered. Perhaps death would be best. Not that Victor would grant him a merciful one.
"Sir Gerald will not fall."
Edwin's confidence lifted a small smile to Gerald's lips. "Is my armor ready?"
The red-haired boy jumped up. "A-almost!" He scampered away, out of the smithy faster than a hare chasing its supper.
The redness of the flames only served to remind Gerald of blood, and he turned away, for once finding no comfort here, wishing for mead to swallow instead of his sorrows.
The dings and clangs resumed, its steady beat almost matching his steady heartbeat. No matter what the outcome, he would do all he could. She, and her memory, deserved that much.
She who never should have felt the sharp end of a blade. She who never stepped near such a place as this. With its burning stove and already forged weapons hanging on the walls, the smithy proved as dangerous as any duel ground. Mayhap a second weapon would not be remiss. Bow and arrows would be less than worthless. A spear or lance, though...
"Sir Gerald. Sir Gerald!"
That voice. His heart leapt in his chest although he knew it did not belong to her.
He stood and swiftly bowed. "Lady Terese." How it pained him to look at her face. To see her beauty. The mirror image of his Alice.
"Ye must not go through with this." She grabbed his arm, her green eyes full of pure will.
Foolish woman. Cowardice was for the weak. "Ye know I must, and I will. Victor—"
"Gerald, I have to tell ye something."
So often she had said those words to him, and he dropped everything to listen. But the woman standing before him was not her, and she he could dismiss. He moved to step around her. Her plaintive tone would not dissuade him from his duty. "I do not have time for this. Go and—"
"Alice did not love ye."
His heart skipped a beat. Pivoting about, he fixed her a glower befitting a response to her poisonous words. How dare she say such a thing and so close to when he faced her murderer in a duel! "Ye dare to think a few lies will prevent me from—"
"Ye think I wish to drop my sister's name and stomp on it, sinking it to the abyss? For a lie?" Terese's delicate features twisted with fury, looking so unlike Alice in that moment. Her dark locks hardly moved in the light breeze, covering the bottom of her face and highlighting her fierce eyes. "Alice loved ye, yes."
Gerald grinned. That he knew well to be the truth.
"But she also loved Michael. And Isaac. And—"
His ears burned as if the fire had leapt across the room and now dwelled inside of him. Surely he heard her wrong. "What are ye saying? What is it you mean?"
"My sister, my twin… she died for loving too much. Victor killed her out of jealousy but not merely geared toward ye."
Never did Gerald want to strike a woman until now. Of course he stilled his hand, his clenched fist, recalling his vow to protect all ladies. "Be gone, viper, with your falsehoods. I will hear no more of this."
And he stalked away. Nothing and no one would stop him from avenging his love.
****
Edwin had outdone himself. Gerald's armor had never shone brighter. Only dents marred its exterior.
The squire helped Gerald into it, chattering without ceasing, but Gerald did not heed him. All he could think of—despite himself—was every interaction between Alice and Michael. Had there been something more beside friendship?
No. Certainly not.
Accurse that vile woman for poisoning his ears! And yet h
e could not help but wonder what she wished to gain by speaking such nonsense. Did she merely wish for him to not duel? Did she think so little of his skill? True, Victor proved himself time and again with his prowess, but Gerald wore his shield proudly. And besides, no one could walk away from a duel. His reputation would be tarnished. More so than for himself, this duel was for Alice. No matter the circumstances, nothing would impede him from his goal.
"Sir Gerald."
He bristled and yanked a spear from Edwin, not bothering to turn around and face her. Not here. Not now. Not with Victor preparing for the duel across the clearing.
Gerald glanced across the grassy expansion of land. Straight ahead, a boy tall and built enough to be knighted soon himself held steady a tall, black beast of a horse as Victor leapt onto its back. Not wishing to be caught staring at his foe, Gerald noticed that on either side of the clearing, men, women, and children gathered, talking in hushed tones, whispering behind their hands.
Ah, so the duel would be a spectacle. He cared not for that. Or perhaps that was good. Let everyone know why they were here. He fought for love against Victor and his evil jealousy. Victor had not been able to handle Alice's love for another, for Gerald. What a detestable man. Victor proved himself that day to not be a knight, but a villain.
Terese walked around him and forced him back to the outline of trees, the start of the nearby forest. "I… I wish to… a…apolo… apologize."
He blinked twice. For a woman, Terese often spoke out of turn, too emotional to keep her opinions to herself. Never once had she apologized to her sister after one of their various spats. To hear this pleased him greatly. He could settle his mind and focus now on Alice's memory and call upon the strength of their love to end Victor and his jealousy.
So he granted her a smile. "Ye are for—"
"Here." She thrust a small chalice forward. "Drink. A sign of my apologetic nature."
How kind of her. His throat had grown dry looking at the forming crowd.
Gerald accepted it and drank greedily. Alice had made him many special drinks throughout their time together—all three months of it—each more delicious than the last. This one tasted nothing like hers. Sweet yet harsh, it burned on the way down. His mind fogged, and the trees grew to touch the clouds. The grass beneath his feet changed colors from green to red to brown to green. Nausea overcame him, and he fell to his knees. His mouth opened, but no sounds came forth.
What was happening to him?
Table of Contents
An Inconvenient Courtship
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
About the Author
Also from Astraea Press