Among the most curious pieces of gossip to come out of the wedding breakfast was one that only those closest to the couple would ever understand. It was said that Mr. Darcy had ordered a chess board be added to every room of this townhouse and his estate, Pemberley. That bit of news in the write-up for the grandest wedding of the season trickled down into a sudden resurgence in chess as a popular parlor game over the previously favored games of luck and chance.
And even decades later, when her children asked her or their father to recount their whirlwind romance, Elizabeth Darcy always began with one simple truth.
“I merely moved a pawn to capture Mr. Darcy.”
Sample of By Consequence of Marriage
Book One of Elizabeth Ann West’s Pride and Prejudice variation novel series, The Moralities of Marriage. Book Four of the series, The Trappings of Marriage will be out later in 2016.
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Chapter One
A map of London lay spread upon the cherry stained table in Fitzwilliam Darcy’s study. Considerable fatigue presented along the heavy crease lines dividing the city into roughly six quadrants. Scribbled notations in the meager margins blurred with street names and two men continued to argue over their next step in a search for the missing Georgiana Darcy.
“Here. Right here.” Colonel Fitzwilliam, a distinguished member of His Majesty’s finest, pointed with his thick, coarse fingers clenched together to underline the place name. “Were I Wickham, I’d hightail it to within a block or two of the docks. The men and wares coming and going make for easy marks. They’d find lodgings without considerable questions asked.”
“The docks? George likes high society. I say we inspect the alleys and boarding houses off Bond. How would he explain a dirty, dingy inn down by the wharves to Georgiana?”
“It’s been three weeks, man! They’ve not the funds for much more than quarters near the docks.” The Colonel glared at his cousin. Both were responsible for Georgiana’s safety, appointed as co-guardians of the girl since the death of Darcy’s father. The current situation would prove their mettle as protectors, if all ended well.
Fitzwilliam Darcy walked away from the table and collapsed into an armchair near the fireplace. His lanky frame slumped, denigrating his noble upbringing to stand tall in the face of challenge. He rested his elbows upon his knees, his hands massaging the tired skin around his eyes and sagging cheeks.
Weeks of slight respite as he and his cousin pursued the ill-matched couple weighed heavily upon his shoulders, his regular business suffering from lack of attention.
If his horse hadn’t thrown a shoe and he had arrived a day earlier at Ramsgate . . . still, he couldn’t give up hope. Not yet. He fervently hoped George Wickham was keeping Georgiana well, if only for the thirty thousand pounds of her dowry. His cousin’s concern that they might very well be out of money raised concerns of Wickham selling his sister, but he shook them away. No amount of money from a flop house would equal her dowry so why hadn’t the devil come forward to claim his bounty?
The predicament was beyond comprehension as Darcy attempted to puzzle it out. A large commotion in the hall drew both men from their strategy as a red-faced butler opened the study door. The man made to announce the visitor but the Countess Matlock, Colonel Fitzwilliam’s mother, entered, her face flush with anger and lacking concern for lingering introduction.
“Richard! William! Just how far have you two bungled these affairs? Why was I not informed the instant Georgiana went missing?”
Jaws agape, the men exchanged mutual expressions of surprise at being caught out by Lady Matlock. They had been exceeding careful in their search to avoid detection, or so they had thought.
“How did you know, Aunt?”
Margaret Fitzwilliam waved her hand dismissively at her nephew. “That is not the topic at hand. I can keep this quiet for a little while longer, but you must get out of London in a trice.”
“No.”
She advanced across the room to Darcy. Though she stood a full head shorter than the formidable master of Pemberley the long, pointed finger in his face revealed height was no indicator of intimidation.
“If you stay just one more day, the whispers of an ongoing search for Georgiana Darcy will be confirmed. Go! Go play the wayward gentleman and visit a friend out in the country. Pretend your sister is in the capable hands of her tutors and you have not a care in the world concerning her well-being. Do so and the entire House of Matlock will not sleep until my niece is found. But if you stay...I cannot help you. I cannot help her.”
Darcy looked to his cousin, a brother in arms since they were mere lads, and sighed as Richard gave a slight nod. Darcy raked his hands through his hair, then smoothed his mussing as he walked to his desk. Never in the five years since his father’s death had he and Richard, as protectors of Georgiana, faced such a disaster in her upbringing. His sensible side knew Aunt Margaret was the ally they needed, especially if gossip was beginning to swirl. Thank goodness his sister was but fifteen and not yet debuted in society. No one would expect her attendance to teas or any number of balls, though the whole of the Ton was already vacated to their country homes for the shooting season.
A pile of opened correspondence lay on the left side of his desk in a haphazard array, all social invitations for the autumn. His hand fell upon the one he required and he reread it with one eye squinted, turning the paper at different angles to grasp the contents of the missive. His aunt and cousin regarded him in silence until his aunt could no longer keep her counsel.
“For heaven’s sake Darcy, whoever writes you with such an appalling hand you must resort to theatrics to decipher the letter?”
“Bingley.” Richard answered offhandedly as he skimmed the map of London once more.
“There it is!” Darcy smiled as he finally found the name of the county he was to visit. He waved the paper in minor triumph before looking annoyed that Richard would continue the search for his sister without him. Before Darcy could utter this sentiment his aunt moved to his side taking the letter from him with the lightest of pressure.
“Perfect. Hertfordshire is half a day’s ride away. We shall send you an express as soon as she is found.”
Darcy gazed at his aunt with the saddest expression she had ever beheld on her nephew. Forced to carry the burden of being the landlord of an esteemed estate at the tender age of four and twenty wore on his handsome face. “Please find her.”
Without a word, she embraced him tightly. Upon releasing the tall man, she straightened his coat. “We shall. You must leave at first light.”
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Visit the Rose Room, an exclusive reading club, for more information and to read free stories. Available at:
http://elizabethannwest.com/roseroom
About the Author
Elizabeth Ann West is a jane-of- all-trades, mistress to none. Author of the best-selling women’s fiction, Cancelled, and historical romance series Seasons of Serendipity, she began her writing career in 2007 writing advertising copy for websites. Since then, she has learned to make apps, code websites, and make a mean cup of coffee. Originally from Virginia Beach, VA, her family now moves wherever the Navy sends them.
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You can contact her at:
[email protected]
Or join her Pemberley Possibilities mailing list:
http://bit.ly/emailpemberley
Visit the Rose Room, an exclusive reading club, for more information and to read free stories. Available free at:
http://elizabethannwest.com/roseroom
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To Capture Mr. Darcy, a Pride and Prejudice Variation Novel Page 17