Elizabeth Bennet's Deception: A Pride and Prejudice Vagary

by Regina Jeffers

  “How could you begin?” said she. “I can comprehend your going on charmingly, once you made a beginning; but what could set you off in the first place?”

  “I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I began.”

  “My beauty you early withstood, as for my manners–my behavior to you was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. Now, be sincere; did you admire me for my impertinence?”

  “For the liveliness of your mind I did.”

  “You may as well call it impertinence at once; it was very little less. The fact is, that you were sick of civility, of deference, of officious attention. Women who were always speaking, and looking, and thinking of your approbation alone disgusted you. I roused and interested you because I was so unlike them. Had you not been really amiable, you would have hated me for it; but in spite of the pains you took to disguise yourself, your feelings were always noble and just, and in your heart you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduously courted you. There–I saved you the trouble of accounting for it; and really all things considered, I begin to think it perfectly reasonable. To be sure, you knew no actual good of me; but nobody thinks of that when he falls in love.”

  Darcy gathered her to him.

  “There was nothing reasonable about my loving you,” he protested good-naturedly. “One thing women do not understand about men is we do not think of love. When we look upon a handsome woman, our minds do not say ‘What would it be like to marry her?’.” We enjoy the lady’s company, but we often do not think of marriage, not in the manner women do.”

  “Then how does a man reconcile himself to marriage?” Elizabeth questioned.

  “Males are still very much an animal in their preferences, but when a male comes across that one female who will be his other half, he knows only one thing: to reach out and claim her as his own. There is no prelude. No questioning of his emotions. No dreaming of romance and a life of contentment. Only the reality that if he does not claim that one particular woman, he will never be whole.”

  And so Darcy considered the public voicing of their vows only a preliminary, for Elizabeth belonged to him as permanently as the sun belonged to the sky.

  After an elaborate wedding breakfast, Darcy and Elizabeth traveled to London for a few days at Darcy House before they would journey on to Derbyshire. Between them, they decided they wished to be at Pemberley for Christmastide and as it was already late November, Elizabeth insisted upon their returning to his manor. Darcy made arrangements with the colonel to see Georgiana to Lord Matlock’s London home. His sister would return to Derbyshire with the Matlocks early in December.

  “There is much to plan if we are to host my family and yours for Christmastide,” Elizabeth insisted as she curled into Darcy’s embrace.

  Darcy ordered Mr. Thacker not to place the knocker on the door for he wanted no visitors to disturb those first days of marital bliss. He and Elizabeth dined in Darcy’s quarters and shared many intimate kisses, but Darcy meant to end his wife’s nervous chatter.

  “The details will show themselves,” Darcy whispered as he kissed Elizabeth tenderly. “For now, I am content to know but one thing.”

  He could feel the tension between them build. Her kiss was a taste of heaven, and Darcy’s desire climbed higher.

  He rose to lift Elizabeth to him.

  “It is time you become my wife in more than name only,” Darcy said as he walked slowly toward his bed.

  Elizabeth buried her face into his shoulder.

  “I must warn you, William, I hold only a little knowledge of this night.”

  Darcy could feel the heat of embarrassment warm her skin.

  “A little?” He chuckled as he nibbled upon Elizabeth’s ear.

  “Mrs. Bingley,” she rasped as Darcy lowered Elizabeth to the bed.

  “It will be enough,” Darcy assured. Following her down, their lips found each other’s. The string of kisses had their breaths ragged when they parted. “I love you, Elizabeth Darcy.” He brushed his lips across her silken cheek.

  “And I love you, William.”

  What flowed between them was passion and need, but also trust and vulnerability–a bonding of two souls. A bond only those who truly love would understand.

  Finis

  Other Novels by Regina Jeffers

  Jane Austen-Inspired Novels:

  Darcy’s Passions: Pride and Prejudice Retold Through His Eyes

  Darcy’s Temptation: A Pride and Prejudice Sequel

  Captain Wentworth’s Persuasion: Jane Austen’s Classic Retold Through His Eyes

  Vampire Darcy’s Desire: A Pride and Prejudice Paranormal Adventure

  The Phantom of Pemberley: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery

  Christmas at Pemberley: A Pride and Prejudice Holiday Sequel

  The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery

  The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery

  “The Pemberley Ball”(a short story inThe Road to Pemberleyanthology)

  Honor and Hope: A Contemporary Pride and Prejudice

  Regency and Contemporary Romances:

  The Scandal of Lady Eleanor – Book 1 of the Realm Series (aka A Touch of Scandal)

  A Touch of Velvet – Book 2 of the Realm Series

  A Touch of Cashémere – Book 3 of the Realm Series

  A Touch of Grace – Book 4 of the Realm Series

  A Touch of Mercy – Book 5 of the Realm Series

  A Touch of Love – Book 6 of the Realm Series

  A Touch of Honor – Book 7 of the Realm Series

  His: Two Regency Novellas(includes “His American Heartsong,” a Realm series novella, and “His Irish Eve,” a sequel toThe Phantom of Pemberley)

  The First Wives’ Club – Book 1 of the First Wives’ Trilogy

  Second Chances: The Courtship Wars

  Coming Soon…

  The Prosecution of Mr. Darcy’s Cousin: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery

  Angel Comes to the Devil’s Keep

  A Touch of Emeralds: The Conclusion of the Realm Series

  The Earl Finds His Comfort

  Mr. Darcy’s Fault: A Pride and Prejudice Vagary

  Meet the Author

  Writing passionately comes easily to Regina Jeffers. A master teacher, for thirty-nine years, she passionately taught thousands of students English in the public schools of West Virginia, Ohio, and North Carolina. Yet, “teacher” does not define her as a person. Ask any of her students or her family, and they will tell you Regina is passionate about so many things: her son, her grandchildren, truth, children in need, our country’s veterans, responsibility, the value of a good education, words, music, dance, the theatre, pro football, classic movies, the BBC, track and field, books, books, and more books. Holding multiple degrees, Jeffers often serves as a Language Arts or Media Literacy consultant to school districts and has served on several state and national educational commissions.

  Regina's writing career began when a former student challenged her to do what she so “righteously” told her class should be accomplished in writing. On a whim, she self-published her first bookDarcy’s Passions. “I never thought anything would happen with it. Then one day, a publishing company contacted me. They watched the sales of the book on Amazon, and they offered to print it.”

  Since that time, Jeffers continues to write. “Writing is just my latest release of the creative side of my brain. I taught theatre, even participated in professional and community-based productions when I was younger. I trained dance teams, flag lines, majorettes, and field commanders. My dancers were both state and national champions. I simply require time each day to let the possibilities flow. When I write, I write as I used to choreograph routines for my dance teams; I write the scenes in my head as if they are a movie. Usually, it plays there for several days bein
g tweaked andrewritten, but, eventually, I put it to paper. From that point, things do not change much because I completed several mental rewrites.”

  Every Woman Dreams https://reginajeffers.wordpress.com

  Website www.rjeffers.com

  Austen Authors http://austenauthors.net

  English Historical Fiction Authors http://englishhistoryauthors.blogspot.com

  Join Regina on Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, Google+, and LinkedIn.

  Excerpt from Angel Comes to the Devil’s Keep

  Chapter One

  London 1819

  The odor of the Thames as it wafted over the area beyond Greenland Docks caused Hunt’s nose to snarl, but Sir Alexander declared that someone paid large sums of money for the privilege of a blind eye to unloaded contraband, and it was Hunt’s duty to learn more of the people involved. The wig he wore itched, and he fought the urge to remove the offending item, and it did not slip his notice how his coachman, Etch, swallowed his amusement.

  “Jist relax, Sir. It shan’t be long,” Etch cautioned.

  Hunt grunted his response, attempting to disguise his own mirth. He slouched lazily against the back of the chair, just as the baronet taught him. It was not much, this bit of public duty he performed, but Hunt took a certain pride in doing more than being the Duke of Devilfoard’s heir–more than being the Devil’s cub. His ears perked with interest at the conversation, taking place nearby.

  “I tells you,” said the dark-haired man Hunt followed into the tavern. “The viscounty means to learn more of the earl. Then we be makin’ a call upon His Lordship.”

  “And this Town lord knows of the earl?” the shorter of the two asked.

  “That’s wat the viscounty says. Says he’s got an arr’ngement with the Highest. He also say we be keepin’ the high lord company fer awhile ’til we’s know fer certain he be easy pickin’s. The viscounty be wantin’ information on who the high lord shows his attentions.”

  The men rose to depart, and Hunt made to leave, but Etch placed a hand upon his sleeve.

  “Wait.” The coachman nodded to the door. “Is that not Lord Newsome? Doing business in this part of London?”

  Hunt’s expression screwed up in disbelief.

  “The viscounty?” he wondered aloud. “This just became interesting.”

  * * *

  “You are pure evil,” she declared as he chased her through the intricate maze.

  Dressed all in black, he stalked her, and Angelica’s body heated from his brief touch, as he brushed her wrist with his fingertips. Catching her skirt tail, she skittered away from his slow pursuit.

  “A copper for your thoughts,” she taunted with a nervous giggle.

  “I was considering the pure pleasure of possessing my own personal angel.” His deep resonant voice spoke of desire, but also of contentment.

  “Am I that angel?” she rasped when he caught her shoulders and spun her to him.

  “Forever.”

  “Miss Angelica.” Her maid shook Angel’s shoulder. “Wake up, Miss.”

  Angelica Lovelace rolled to her back and stretched. She hated to leave the dream behind. It was one of her favorites, and she particularly enjoyed how it always ended with her in the dark stranger’s very masculine embrace.

  “What is amiss?” she murmured. Angelica kept her eyes closed watching the scene’s details playing out behind her lids. She could not remember a time when she did not dream of her dark lover. Even as a very young girl, she enjoyed his company. When she was a child, he was her best friend, but when she turned to womanhood, he became her secret lover, and although she never met him, he remained the man by which she judged all others. To her, he was her “dearest Devil,” always dressed in black; his shaggy coal-colored hair streaked with hints of mahogany. Over the years, Angelica blamed her oft-spoken-of irreverent attitude on the mystery man with a wicked wit and a splash of deviltry.If my critics knew of my sultry musings, they would agree I am quite beyond the pale.The thought brought a smile to her lips.

  “Your father, Miss,” the maid encouraged. “Mr. Lovelace requests you attend him in the small drawing room. Baron Arden has called.”

  Angelica forced her eyes open.

  “Baron Arden? What might the baron require?” She pushed herself to a seated position.

  “Mrs. Watson be thinking the baron will make himself known as a suitor.” The maid braced Angelica on the steps beside the bed.

  “Do you suppose the baron consulted Mrs. Watson?” Angelica asked, with a bit of a tease.

  The maid rarely understood Angel’s light sarcasm.

  “Oh, no, Miss. Mrs. Watson be creatin’ a guess.”

  A chuckle slipped from Angelica’s lips.

  “And I thought an English upper servant worth her salt prided herself on knowing everything within the household.”

  “Mrs. Watson knows enough.” The maid unlaced the ties on Angelica’s night rail. “I thought the silver muslin, Miss.”

  Angelica fought the urge to roll her eyes.

  “Another virginal gown. Why is it English ladies announce their marital state with their gown’s color? What could be the harm in wearing a bright red or a royal blue?”

  “You may choose whatever color most pleases you once you marry,” the maid observed in severe tones. “Lady Peterson wears only shades of purple. Can you imagine, Miss? Purple dresses every day?”

  Angelica frowned.

  “I am not certain I could tolerate the monotony. Of course, it would simplify the need for accessories. A few pairs of slippers and gloves would match one’s attire.”

  “You’re so practical, Miss,” the young girl observed.

  Twenty minutes later and without breaking her fast, Angelica swept into the room. She and her father had imposed upon the earl and her mother’s sister Sarah by imploring upon her maternal relatives to open the earl’s Town house for the Season and for Lady Mannington to assume the position of Angelica’s sponsor in Society. Her mother’s older sister married Lord Mannington some five and twenty years prior, long before Angelica’s birth and before Lady Victoria Copley married Horace Lovelace and traveled to America.

  “You sent for me, Sir?” She paused as her mother had taught her.“Allow the man to take your full measure.” The words rang clear in Angel’s mind: It was comforting to have a bit of her mother with her.

  “There you are, my dear.” Her father struggled to his feet.

  Each day, Angelica became more aware of the man’s mortality. That particular fact was one of the reasons she agreed to this venture. Her mother passed two years prior, and her father insisted on carrying out his wife’s dying wishes. For years, Victoria Lovelace spoke of bringing her only daughter to England for a proper debut, but her mother succumbed to consumption before her wish knew fruition. Therefore, without the love of his life, Angel’s father made the journey.

  “Please come in.” He gestured her forward. “You are acquainted with Baron Arden, I believe.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She curtsied to the man standing aristocratically beside the hearth. “The baron and I stood up together at the Breesons’ ball on Tuesday last.”

  The baron executed a respectful bow.

  “It is singular you have such perfect recall, Miss Lovelace.”

  “Angelica has a quick mind,” her father remarked with pride, but then blustered. “Of course, my Victoria would say a learned lady was not a virtue by English standards.” He winced when shock crossed the baron’s features. “I apologize, Arden. I offer no censure. My late wife always accused me of acting a cake when speaking of our daughter. So many years away from my homeland must make me appear quite the heathen. I am accustomed to a freer speaking society.”

  “It is quite acceptable, Lovelace.” The baron grasped the hand Angelica extended in his direction and offered the obligatory air kiss. “Despite the consensus to the contrary, many Englishmen prefer their wives to possess a sensible nature.”

  Angelica gestured to a nearby chair.

/>   “But the author ofPride and Prejudiceproved in her first novel thatsenseandsensibility are different from intelligence, my lord,” she countered.

  “I am surprised you have read the lady’s novels,” Arden remarked.

  Angelica seated herself on the edge of the cushion and straightened her dress’s seam.

  “Would yoursurprisebe because the author is British rather than American or because the author is a lady, and women should not trespass upon the male dominated world of authorship?” She did not wait for his response before adding, “Perhaps your astonishment rests in the factSense and Sensibility is a novel rather than a serious tome?”

  She smiled prettily at the man. Her mother may have determined Angelica required an English aristocrat for a husband, however, Angel had decided only a partner who could accept her flaws, as well as her substantial dowry, would do.

  Arden frowned. He clearly not expected a challenge to his opinions.

  “I suppose all three, Miss Lovelace.”

  “But you hold no objection, Baron, to a woman who develops her mind through extensive reading?” Angelica chuckled internally at the familiar line from the British author’s books. She was certain Arden possessed no idea of the remark’s source.

  “I would imagine my wife would oversee our children’s educations. Therefore, I would expect a certain rationality.”

  “Which brings us to the reason for Baron Arden’s visit, my dear,” her father interrupted. “Arden has requested my permission to call upon you with the intention of a courtship. That is, if you are agreeable.”

  “A time to learn if we would suit?”

  Angelica took a closer look at the baron. His thick dark brown hair had a tendency to curl about his collar. Barely six feet, the man’s stature struggled to appear more than a walking block of wood, but he possessed a pleasant countenance.