Do you ever just start typing in a URL and when the computer suggests a full address for that site, you just click enter, not caring that when you get to your desired destination, you will have to do a bit more clicking to find what you really want? I do. Often. Especially when going to YouTube.
ThePianoGuys. “Adele – Rolling in the Deep (Piano/Cello Cover) – The Piano Guys.” YouTube, YouTube, 7 Sept. 2011.
I did that very thing all this past week when sitting down to write. The suggested address always took me to the above video, and so, each of my writing sessions began with The Piano Guys’ cover of Adele’s Rolling in the Deep. 🙂 I would then hit shuffle and randomly listen to other music from my writing playlist. This song though seems to have just the right melody, rhythm, and dissonance for the story I am attempting to craft because, while the story will be sweet with a happily ever after, I do hope to stir up some trouble along the way. So far, things are sailing along smoothly for everyone involved in the story. However, I’m 6K words in, so it’s time to start tossing issues at the hero and heroine. I suppose that will be my “fun” during my writing time this week.
As I look forward to this week of writing, I am planning to continue writing Becoming Entangled, and I’ll likely start editing With the Colonel’s Help as the last post for that story is next week!
I also will be taking my turn on Austen Authors with a look at how I used research about Vauxhall Gardens in Unravelling Mr. Darcy. This post will, of course, contain an excerpt and a giveaway. I’d love to have you stop by and say hi!
The launch of Unravelling Mr. Darcy last week went well. As I am writing this Sunday evening, it is ranking in the top 20 bestsellers in a couple of categories, and it currently has seven five-star reviews! Thank you to everyone who has purchased and read the book as well as those lovely readers that took time to tell others that they enjoyed the book.
If you read Unravelling Mr. Darcy, then you know that Anne de Bourgh’s story is left up in the air. Becoming Entangled is her story and the one on which I have been working this past week and have excerpted below.
EXCERPT FROM Becoming Entangled:
Alistair folded his arms across his chest. “And I assume you have had ample time to consider and be in company with the lady for whom you claim you would give up your apartment at Albany?” He bit back a smile as Jack’s eyes narrowed. Jack might have the physical advantage over Alistair in most sports; however, when it came to well-reasoned debates, there were few who could outwit Alistair when he was certain of his correctness on a matter. His father had trained him with debate after debate about nonsensical things as well as current matters in the news.
“I concede your point.” There was very little joy, admiration, or anything that spoke of pleasant feelings in Ralston’s tone. In fact, much to Alistair’s delight, for it was enjoyable to disconcert his self-assured friend at times, Ralston seemed rather put out. Of course, that might have been attributed more to the fact that Mr. Darcy and his friend Mr. Bingley had taken seats on Ralston’s left.
“Mr. Darcy,” Alistair greeted, leaning around his friend. “I trust you are well settled back into town after your sojourn in Kent.” He blinked and attempted to school his features into not showing his surprise at the blackness of Mr. Darcy’s eye.
“I am. Thank you,” Darcy answered. “Did my aunt inform you of my stay or was it her parson?”
Alistair chuckled. “Neither. I saw you at church, and your cousin mentioned to me that you and Colonel Fitzwilliam had been to Rosings for a visit.”
“Anne?” Darcy’s brows rose.
“Yes, Miss de Bourgh. I accompany my mother often when she calls at Rosings, so Miss de Bourgh and I have become friends.” They were, of course, more than just friends, but they were friends, so it was not a complete untruth, he told himself. He hoped that the warmth he felt creeping up his neck would be credited to the physical exercise he had just had and the temperature in the room and not the discomfort he felt in trying to explain his relationship to Darcy’s cousin.
“Ah, yes, the illustrious Lady Metcalfe,” Darcy said with a smile. “My aunt often speaks of your mother.”
“They are good friends of long standing.”
“My aunt has assured me of that fact many times.”
“Do you know my friend?” Alistair asked in response to the nudge he felt to his foot.
Darcy cocked his head. “Ralston, is it not?”
“Yes, sir. Jack Ralston.”
As much as Alistair wished to allow his friend to continue impressing the brother of a lady he fancied, Alistair was more eager to press his own suit in regards to his lady’s freedom from any possibility of being forced into marriage with Darcy. “Miss de Bourgh mentioned she had gained a new friend these last few weeks. I believe it was some relation of your aunt’s parson?” The heat that had begun to slid back down his neck resumed it crawl up to his ears. He really must learn some technique to quell such a response when withholding information before he entered politics, for he was certain it would do him no good. It was a tell. And as he had told his friend earlier, tells as much as routines in defense were not practical.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Alistair could not keep his brows from raising slightly at the smile that spread across Darcy’s face as he said the name. It seemed Anne had been correct in assessing the gentleman’s feeling for Miss Bennet.
“Her cousin is Mr. Collins.” Darcy tossed one leg over the other and seemed to relax into his chair.
The sight was startling. Alistair had never seen Darcy be anything but rigidly proper.
“You have a sister, do you not?” Darcy asked Alistair.
“She is not out yet, is she?”
Alistair’s brows drew together. These seemed odd questions for Darcy to be asking. “She is only thirteen.”
“Right, that is why your mother needed my aunt’s recommendation about Miss Pope. She is getting on well in her position, is she not?”
“As far as I know, Miss Pope is an excellent governess, and my sister has not driven her to distraction. She reserves that for me.”
“It is the way of younger sisters.”
“Did you fall?” Alistair pointed his eye, indicating he was questioning Darcy about his bruise. This Mr. Darcy seemed far too relaxed and conversational to Alistair, and it was making him feel uneasy. Perhaps he had injured his head.
Darcy chuckled and rubbed his eye. “No, this is Bingley’s handiwork. You both know Bingley do you not?”
“By sight and name,” Ralston said. “We have never officially met.”
Darcy took a moment to apologize for the oversight in not making introductions and then allowed Bingley to introduce himself. This was followed for a few minutes by a discussion between Ralston and Bingley about pugilism.
As Bingley and Ralston spoke of boxing, Darcy pulled his chair around to sit next to Alistair. “The reason I asked about your sister is that my sister insisted I stop at the best shop for lace and such fripperies today when we were in Cheapside, and I must agree that it is a very dignified store. I would not hesitate to recommend it to your mother or your sister when they are in town. It is owned by Miss Elizabeth’s uncle, who from all appearances and the reports of his nieces is a fine, reputable merchant. My sister was delighted with the few things she purchased.”
“Oh,” Alistair muttered. “Thank you; I shall tell my mother when she is in town. I should think Miss de Bourgh might enjoy such a place. She does like to stitch, or, at least, she is often working on some item of sewing when I visit.”
Darcy shrugged. “She might, but she rarely comes to town.”
“Yes,” Alistair agreed. “But she is getting to an age where it might become necessary if she is to marry.”
Darcy smiled. “This is true. There are not as many opportunities to find a husband in the country as there are in town — or so my aunt, Lady Matlock, and my great-aunt, Lady Margaret assure me. However, I think that perhaps the quality of selection rather than the quantity from which to choose is of more importance and that the country can be an excellent place to find a wife or husband.”
“I would not disagree, no matter what my mother might say to the contrary,” Alistair concurred. “We, Ralston and I, are on our way to a less than ideal place to find quality wives — a house party.”
“A house party?” Bingley interjected. “Not even I enjoy those, and I do enjoy most places where I find myself.”