From The Lady’s Monthly Museum. Los Angeles County Museum of Art, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
She looked at the faces which stared back at her in disbelief. “I am not fit for bedlam, if that is what you are thinking. I know it is a sudden turnabout, but a turnabout it is. I have made my choice and am moving forward. How is it you said it, Richard? The past is in the past? And that is where it shall stay.”
“And you are certain of this, Catherine?” questioned Lady Matlock. “You are not just taking the role expected of you for the sake of the family?”
“Good heavens, no!” Lady Catherine shook her head. “I have spent far too many years doing as the family expects. Is not a lady in her dotage allowed to do the unexpected? In three weeks, I shall hand over the care of Rosings to the younger set and shall begin to take my ease.”
Internet Archive Book Images, No restrictions, via Wikimedia Commons The cottages and the village life of rural England. 1912. Ditchfield, P. H. (Peter Hampson)
The spitting rain had left muddy trails down Darcy’s greatcoat as it mixed with the road dirt. Keeping to the right branch of the road as the gentleman had instructed, Darcy found himself riding up a path toward a stone cottage. “I think this is the cottage,” said Darcy.
I’m breaking the every-other-week posting rule again for a very special reason. I have, for the foreseeable future, reduced the price of one of my books to $0.99*.
To give you a taste of the tone of much of this book, I am combining the song and an explanation of the book that I shared (along with a chapter from the book) back in August 2016, with the excerpt from the story which I shared as I was writing it back in July 2015.
Fair warning: Don’t Let Her Be Gone is a sad one that always tends to leave a tear in my eye, which is fitting since Through Every Storm does the same to me when I read it.
The link in the previous paragraph is for the version I listened to on the radio and is sung by Gord Bamford, a Canadian country music singer. I have shared his video below for those who might be able to see it as I can, and I have shared another version of it by Jared Blake below it that I know works in the US. (Zoe Burton checked the link for me. 🙂 Thanks, Zoe!)
I will admit that when this song started playing regularly on the radio, I did not like it. In fact, I can remember whining to a friend that it was “so sad.” But as it played over and over each day as I made supper or did the dishes, I grew to like it — which is a lot like the characters in this week’s featured novella, Through Every Storm.
Lydia and Wickham are easy to dislike. Everyone dislikes them, don’t they? They are horrible, rotten, self-centered individuals….right? Perhaps they were. 😉 However, my challenge in writing this novella was to make them likable. Yes, you heard that correctly, I wished to redeem the unredeemable, so to speak.
But what if after several years of marriage, Wickham has both matured and come to love his wife? What if that wife loves her husband deeply but has not matured as much as he has and still holds on to some scars from her youth? What if she does something which is stupid and justifiably unforgivable by her husband? What if she discovers the truth behind his reason for marrying her — that he was paid to do it? How does a family, for they have two children, weather such storms?
That’s the story you’ll find in Through Every Storm.
It, like the song this week, is sad, but it, unlike the song, ends on a very sweet and hopeful note. I think you’ll be surprised by the characters. I know I was. I came to love them — yes, actually. 🙂 And I’m not alone. I have heard from readers who have also (shockingly) found themselves liking Lydia and Wickham.
There are two places in this story where Wickham finds himself thinking “please don’t let her be gone.” The first time is in chapter one which can be previewed here: Through Every Storm. The second can be found in chapter 9, which is where this excerpt is from:
She took another step away from him. “You fear for my reputation now, but you did not then. Why, George? Why now but not then?”
“Because it matters now, and it should have mattered then.”
“Oh, yes!” she shouted. “It matters now because you know of the children and because your business would suffer!”
Her fists were clenched at her sides, and his stomach roiled at the look of disgust on her face. Desperation clawed at his heart. He was failing. No, he had failed. That which mattered most to him was about to push him out of her life, and he had no idea how to stop her. He could hold her ─ force her to remain ─ but she would only be there in body. He saw her turning from him and grabbed her arm. “Lydia, please. It is not like that.”
She yanked her arm away. “You are not really going to try to tell me that you care for me, are you, George? For I can guarantee, I’ll not be falling for your pretty words again. I’ll not be played the fool any longer.” Tears flowed down her cheeks as she turned and ran from him. She could not bear to hear him say he loved her when she knew it was not true.
Wickham wanted to run after her, to make her understand how much he had changed and how much she now meant to him, but he could not. His feet were rooted to the ground, and he could not seem to draw a full breath. He stood watching her, his heart aching a bit more with each step she took.
“Papa?” A small hand grasped his.
His knees buckled and he sank to the ground.
“Papa?” Louisa grabbed his face and looked at him.
He saw the fear in her eyes and smiled at her. “I am well. I just need a rest.”
She scrunched up her face and looked at him carefully. “You are not well. Mama is not well. And I am going to get help.” Before he could stop her, she had spun on her heels and was running.
“Louisa, come back,” he called as he pulled himself to his feet and soon overtook her. He snatched her up, crushing her to him. “Where are you going?”
“To get Aunt Kitty. She can make Mama feel better, and if Mama feels better, then you will feel better.” She thumped him on the chest. “You should have told her you loved her.” She thumped him again. “You should have told her. Why did you not tell her?”
“She would not have believed me,” he said softly as he stroked her hair.
“You still should have told her.” Her little body trembled as she gulped air between sobs.
[from Through Every Storm]
Now, isn’t that a cheery way to start the week? 😀 I promise my stories always have happy endings, even this one.
P.S. (Can you add those to blog posts?) If you’re on my mailing list, you should have found a surprise in your inbox this morning.
$0.99 is USD, CAD, AUD, NZD, EUR, GBP
*The link in the intro is to the song on Spotify. This is not an affiliate link. It is just my way of attempting to help out the artists whose music I share.
I know I said I was only going to post Music Monday posts every other week, but I’ve been missing them. 🙂 So, I’m breaking that rule for this week and revisiting a post from five years ago.
On August 18, 2015, I published my fourth book. That book was Listen to Your Heart, which happens to be on sale at present. I thought it might be fun to look back at the Music Monday post from when that book was published. So, here it is below (with a little bit of an excerpt tacked on under the video, which is where the original post ended).
A friend had this video posted on Facebook last week (back in Aug 2015), and I thought it was just so beautiful that I had to share it here.
I love this phrase in the song,
“People fall in love in mysterious ways,”
or as Mr. Darcy says it in Pride and Prejudice,
“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 had begun.”
which also made me think of Anne in Listen to Your Heart
PUBLISHED TO YOUTUBE BY PIANO TIME ON MARCH 23, 2020.
I find it mesmerizing to watch the lights dropping down, showing the notes. That is why I chose this video to share today. The reason I chose the song is for the title, for today, I am sharing a chapter from my very first published book, Oxford Cottage, which is where the dark part of the tale begins.
Darcy looked across the assembly hall and watched the dancers as they wound their way through the steps of a country dance. His eyes followed Elizabeth for a few moments before he pulled his attention back to the rest of the people standing around him.
Just to his left, Mrs. Bennet fidgeted and fussed with Kitty’s dress. “Stand up straight, Kitty,” she scolded. “No man wants a woman who is all bent and crumpled.”
“Yes, Mama,” said Kitty.
Darcy suppressed a chuckle as he watched Kitty roll her eyes before she pulled herself up, squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. It reminded him of Georgiana. How often had he, when watching Miss Kitty, noticed similarities between the two young ladies? Both shared an exuberance for life that was infectious, and neither appreciated the reminder to carry themselves in what society deemed a ladylike fashion. Miss Kitty was a bit silly, but she was a sweet and caring young lady. She was the sort of young lady with whom Darcy did not mind having his sister associate.
Having seen to her daughter’s lack of posture, Mrs. Bennet had moved on to discussing with several local ladies her very good fortune of having “three daughters so agreeably attached.” Mr. Bennet was attempting to calm his wife’s happy nerves in order to keep her voice at an acceptable volume. Darcy shook his head slightly and smiled. How a man as intelligent as Mr. Bennet could abide such a fluttering wife was beyond his comprehension.
But he knew it to be true that Mr. Bennet did not just abide his wife, he loved her and showed it through his solicitous attentions and patience. Although some might only see the man who teased and laughed at his wife’s silliness, Darcy had observed the soft glow of his eyes and an occasional touch that accompanied such teasing. Mrs. Bennet often responded in a huff of emotions but there was always a twinkle in her eye, a little wink, or a slight upturn of her mouth which let him know she was not truly put out by her husband’s comments. It was a dance of words and actions, a game they played, a game he was just beginning to learn to play with his beloved Elizabeth. He allowed himself the pleasure of once again watching her dance.
