“And it is very nice,” Richard assured her, giving William a dirty look.
William lifted his shoulders and let them fall, then crouched in front of her and pretended to examine the flowers in detail. “You know what would make this crown perfect?” he asked Elizabeth. She shook her head, curls bobbing. “If you had a princess dress to go with it.”
Her eyes widened. Carefully, she lifted the crown from her head and placed it in Richard’s outstretched hands. “Hold that,” she ordered, before she flew back towards the house, little red leather shoes flashing bright in the late afternoon sun.
Fitzwilliam Darcy would never forget the sound of Richard’s shout. It was loud, of course, and angry—but the fear that ripped through the single word sent a frozen shock to his very heart. No, Richard cried, and began to run. No!
He and Malcolm turned back toward the house to follow Richard’s movement, and then they saw it, too. The nurse who had been following Elizabeth back to the house was holding young John tightly. She finally let out a shriek—but it was weak, and the woman seemed unable to move. Before her, headed their way but slightly to the west, was a masked man galloping away on a large, powerful black horse. He held the reins tightly in one hand.
His other arm was wrapped around a wriggling Elizabeth Windham.
Malcolm tossed Robert over his shoulder and raced back to the house as the little boy screamed for his sister. Richard was chasing the horse down the approach, but it was already past him and William knew it was hopeless. He whirled around to glare at the woods that covered this side of the property, remembered there was a stream and a field beyond. The road wound down for a half-mile before it turned to the south. If they cut across the field . . .
“Richard!” he yelled and darted away.
He dodged trees and roots, skidded down a soft bank and jumped over the stream, then clambered up the other side. Lungs burning, he burst through the woods into a brown field. He never stopped, his legs and arms pumping hard, breaths coming in quick gasps. As he reached the center of the field, heading toward the far end, he caught the rider out of the corner of his eye. He took a huge breath of air and increased his speed.
His feet hit the hard ground of the road just as the horse was racing past about six feet away. It shied and reared, and William took advantage of the moment to stretch his arms out and lunge. Time slowed as Elizabeth reached her small arms out to him—he nearly had one of her hands—and then she was jerked away roughly, and William grabbed nothing but air, bounced off the horse’s rear flank and landed unceremoniously on his back in the dust of the road.
Before William could recover, they were out of his reach, hurtling down the road, leaving him on his knees and gulping for air. He was only barely aware that Richard had arrived and was bent over at the waist, huffing and puffing next to him. All he could hear were the horse’s hooves beating against the dry ground as it drew farther away.
He felt Richard’s hand on his shoulder and turned his face up to meet his cousin’s tortured gaze.
He’d been so close. But Elizabeth was gone.
Excerpt from Ship to Shore
If you like the Headstrong Trilogy, you might like Ship to Shore by Elizabeth Adams
Coming January 2020
February 12, 20__
Dear Maggie,
The cookies were wonderful, as usual. It really isn't necessary to send something every time you write, though I am very appreciative. The other Lt. Comm. has become quite jealous. I am sorry to hear about the fate of your old bedroom. It is hard to go home and feel it isn't your home any more. I’d love to hear more about your family when you’re up for it. It must have been interesting growing up with so many kids in the house.
In answer to your question, my favorite color is blue. At least it used to be before I went to sea. Now I am surrounded by blue every waking moment: the sky, the open sea, the uniforms. It's all very...blue. On second thought, I'll have to get back to you on my favorite color.
I have been in the Navy almost twelve years now. I joined because my father had been in the Navy, as had his father and grandfather before him, and it was always expected that I would join as well. I was young and it sounded like a good idea and I had no idea what I would do if I didn't join the Navy, so I signed up. While I was at the academy, America declared war on Afghanistan and life changed for good. Even if I had wanted to leave before, it would have been dishonorable to quit in a time of war and let men with families go in my place.
I suppose that answers another question. No, I do not have a family. Of my own, that is. Naval life isn't really conducive to family life. I remember my father being out to sea for much of my childhood and I would never want to do that to anyone. Being single and child-free makes this all a bit easier to handle. It can be very difficult for the men with wives and children at home. Yes, they have that much more personal incentive to serve, but they also have that much more heartache when the ship leaves port.
I have a small family, just my father and sister and me. My father is retired Navy and lives in Connecticut. My mother died when I was eighteen, a month after I graduated high school and before I started at the Academy.
Thanks again for the cookies and please tell me more about your life. It's more interesting than you know.
Sincerely,
Hawkins
P.S. No, my name is not Fergus, Fletcher, or Franklin, and definitely NOT Frankie. Keep guessing— it's very amusing.
Maggie laughed out loud as she read the last line of Hawkins's letter. This corresponding thing was turning out to be more fun than she’d thought it would be. Though she ended with a laugh, she couldn't help but wonder why he hadn’t said anything else about his family, but then she thought he’d likely said nothing about his mother because it was a painful topic.
She couldn’t imagine losing a parent that young. She couldn’t imagine losing one now! And then to be sent off to the Academy, then out to sea, alone on a ship for months at a time. It all sounded so cold and lonely. Her heart went out to him and the eighteen-year-old kid he had been, alone and motherless.
Unable to fight the urge, she started baking and wrote her reply while the brownies were in the oven. Unfortunately, she was so distracted that she burned them and didn’t have ingredients for more. Sighing, she decided to find something else to send her faithful correspondent.
February 17, 20__
Dear Hawkins,
Your letter arrived faster than the previous ones. Are you perhaps getting closer to land? For your sake, I hope you are. I will confess that I have always wanted to travel the world, so you'll have to tell me all about the places you see so I can live vicariously through you.
As you have surely noticed by now, I did not send you any food this time. However, a group of teachers at my school has started a little book club and this is the book we are reading this month. You should read along and then we can discuss it.
I need to vent about a situation with my sister and it would be helpful to talk to someone distanced from the situation. Sarah, she's the one a few years older than me, is seriously the nicest person I've ever met. She's almost too nice. She sees the good in everyone and never thinks a person has bad motives, just that they are misunderstood or wounded. I suppose this serves her well in her job - she's a child psychologist – but it's not so great in normal life.
She is dating this guy right now whom I really don't like. He was alright at first, even though he was a little too smooth. I expected it, he is a lawyer, but the more I get to know him, the more I think he is just using Sarah. I know he is attracted to her – who wouldn't be, she's stunning – but I don't think he really likes her for herself. She just meets all his requirements. She's beautiful and easily fills the job of arm candy for important events and to show off to his creepy friends, she has no nasty skeletons in her closet that will come out at an inopportune time (like an election campaign), and she has an impressive and sympathetic job.
Maybe I'm being a bit c
ynical here, but he has made it clear that he eventually wants to run for DA and who knows what from there, and Sarah fits the political wife bill perfectly. And can I tell you something else? He's a little creepy. Not major alarm-bells creepy, but just creepy enough that after you’ve known him for a bit, you start to wonder about him.
I've caught him making bored faces and rolling his eyes when Sarah was talking about her job and he didn't know I could see him. Also, I've caught him looking down my shirt more than once. I get that he's a guy and all that, but really? He's dating my SISTER! And it wasn't innocent, you-bent-over-in-front-of-me-so-of-course-I-looked, kind of looking. It was lecherous, creepy smile, smarmy eyes kind of looking.
I've tried to tell Sarah that I think he's not quite right for her and that he seems questionable to me, but she thinks I'm just being hard on him and overprotective of her. I didn't tell her about the leering because I didn't want to hurt her feelings. But if they start to get serious, I'm going to have to do something.
Sorry to be so maudlin. Moving on!
School was wretched this week. We had a Valentine's Day party and it looks like a box of candy hearts threw up in my classroom. I used to love this holiday and I thought it was great that an entire day was set aside to celebrate love. Then my boyfriend dumped me right before Valentine's Day. Ever since, people always ask if I'm okay in this sad voice they use for children who've lost their parents in the grocery store.
I'M FINE! In fact, the only thing that bothers me about Valentine's Day is everyone thinking I'm bothered by Valentine's Day! So I got dumped. Big deal. We got back together 2 weeks later. And then broke up again 3 months after that, but that's not the point! The point is that I'm fine and I just want to enjoy the holiday for what it is: a massive chocolate glut fest.
Sigh. You're so lucky you're on a ship filled with men. There must be a lot less drama that way.
Happy Valentine's Day, Frederick (I kinda like this name – something old-fashioned about it). Or is it Fulcrum? Ferguson? Farnsworth?
Your friend,
Maggie
Acknowledgments
Many people were instrumental in the writing of this novel, which began as a story on A Happy Assembly in 2016. I thank all my reviewers, readers, and supporters, those who pointed out errors or inconsistencies, and the experts in many areas who contributed their knowledge. A special thanks goes out to the women veterans and those in active service who commented on Elizabeth’s experiences. Thanks to you, the story is better and stronger than it would have been without your assistance.
As always, a heartfelt thanks to my intrepid beta Sarah Maksim, whose incredible brainstorming skills, keen eye for humor, and quick turn-around had a great influence on the development of this story. Thanks to my editor, Sarah Pesce at Lopt&Cropt for keeping the writing lean and clean.
Finally, I must thank my family, who put up with my many hours spent typing away on my computer when I might have been cooking, cleaning, or doing the million other things it takes to run a house. Thank you for your love, support, and the invaluable gift of time.
Now that you’ve reached the end of the Headstrong trilogy, I would love to hear how you liked it. Please review on Amazon or Goodreads if you’re willing. Modern versions of Jane Austen’s novels don’t get nearly as much love as the Regency tales. If you’d like to see more stories like this one—review! Thanks.
About the Author
MELANIE RACHEL is a university professor who first read Jane Austen at summer camp as a girl. She was born and raised in Southern California, but has lived in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Washington, and Arizona, where she now resides with her family and their freakishly athletic Jack Russell terrier.
Facebook: facebook.com/melanie.rachel.583
Website: melanierachel.weebly.com
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