Happy New Year!
I’m thrilled to share some happy news with you! My short story, Wait for Love, originally released in July 2021, is undergoing an exciting transformation.
Here’s the original story’s premise:
The short story’s setting is Hunsford on the night of Mr. Darcy’s proposal. Imagine if Darcy offers his hand in a more gentleman-like manner. Imagine if Elizabeth is more attracted to Mr. Darcy than she cares to let on—that is, before she learns about his part in separating her sister from his friend. Will he stand a chance of winning Elizabeth’s heart?
§ The short story length is 6500 words—perfect for those times when what you really want is a quick romantic escape!
In the upcoming “Expanded Edition,” not only will you rediscover the classic charm of the original, but you’ll also delve into newly explored depths the day after and beyond. I’m replacing the ‘happy for now’ ending with a ‘happily ever after’ conclusion, complete with an epilogue that offers a satisfying closure to Darcy and Elizabeth’s story.
In this revision, I’ve taken care to keep the story’s heart while adapting it for a broader audience. The steamier aspects have been removed, making it suitable for sharing on my YouTube channel.
Central to this expanded edition is the addition of Charlotte, whose counsel and support for Elizabeth are as steadfast as ever.
Also, prepare for an intriguing twist with the Bennets of Longbourn. An unexpected guest arrives with the intention of carrying her point, just ahead of the newly betrothed couple’s arrival to ask for Mr. Bennet’s blessing. One guess as to who that might be. This guest adds an exciting layer to the storyline, shaking up the dynamics at Longbourn in unexpected ways.
I can’t wait to share this charming new edition with you. In the interim, here’s an excerpt from the revised first chapter.
Happy reading!
Chapter 1 (Excerpt)
Fitzwilliam Darcy had no choice but to leave Kent. Business affairs called him back to London. The last evening he would spend in the presence of Miss Elizabeth Bennet as merely an acquaintance from Hertfordshire was upon him. He did not intend to miss a single moment of it, starting with watching her as she stepped from her carriage upon her arrival at Rosings.
Waiting outside for the Hunsford party’s arrival might have been the thing to do. However, doing so would encourage premature speculation—the likes with which his aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh would surely take umbrage. His noble relation’s mind had long settled on the idea of his marrying her daughter Anne. She was bound to be unhappy about his marrying Elizabeth, insisting instead that it was his obligation to his family to marry his cousin, but it could not be helped. His aunt would never comprehend that he had no obligations to anyone, that he was free to choose his own path. Nothing and no one would keep him from following his heart’s desire, not even his family.
Enjoying a private moment with Elizabeth later that evening will not be easy, he considered. I simply must find a way for us to be alone so I can declare my intentions.
Once again, he glimpsed the ring resting in the palm of his hand before returning it to its small velvet-covered box, snapping it shut and tucking it deep inside his pocket. He could hardly wait to see the look on Elizabeth’s face when she beheld the dazzling diamond engagement ring. Its delay in reaching him from town bore some of the blame for his still being in Kent. Darcy snapped shut the small velvet-covered box in his hand and tucked it deep inside his pocket.
He poured himself a drink and took a seat near the window. If events unfolded as he expected, a long, promising night awaited him—one he was sure to cherish for the rest of his life.
Upon finishing his drink, Darcy set his stone-cut crystal glass aside. His secret plans for Elizabeth were heavy on his mind; he had awakened that morning with such vivid dreams of knowing her in all the ways a man violently in love knew his wife.
His heart raced with anticipation as he contemplated declaring his intentions. A wave of exhilaration washed over him, imagining the moment he would finally express his affection. The thought of a swift marriage by a special license filled him with eager longing. He envisioned tender moments shared in the bliss of their union, cherishing her voice and the deep connection between them.
In his mind, they would be inseparable, devoted entirely to one another in a bond unbroken by any external force. He gently closed his eyes, surrendering to the soft caress of his daydreams—allowing their soothing waves to carry him closer to the blissful future he so dearly wished to commence.
After a while, clock bells ringing in the distance aroused Darcy from his slumber. He sat up straight and tall and consulted his pocket watch. Elizabeth’s party was due to arrive from the parsonage at any minute. He wanted to glimpse his future bride in privacy before joining everyone in the drawing-room.
Admiring her beauty was one of his favorite pastimes, although he was forced to admit it had not always been that way. The fool that he was. He had first described her as merely tolerable and not handsome enough to tempt him upon first seeing her in Hertfordshire. But that was before he really looked at her and grew fascinated by her fine eyes—dark and bewitching, and her figure-light and pleasing. He soon regarded Elizabeth as one of the most handsome women of his acquaintance and then as the woman with whom he would spend the rest of his life.
In truth, Darcy had suffered his fair share of reservations about embarking on his chosen path. There was a matter of Elizabeth’s family which bothered him so much that he had persuaded his close friend Charles Bingley to be wary of an alliance with the eldest Bennet daughter. Here was a family with no fortune, no connections, and severely wanting in decorum. Although he excused Elizabeth from such deficits, he would have been a fool to suppose society would also look askance at the disparity in the Bennet family’s station in life compared to his own.
In vain, I struggled and to no avail. I love her, most ardently. No other woman in the world exists for me. Elizabeth is everything to me.
The sound of Lady Catherine’s carriage in the distance dragged him to his feet. He stood at the window and peered down the drive, excited by the prospect of watching Elizabeth alight.
Mr. William Collins, Lady Catherine’s sycophant vicar and Elizabeth’s cousin, descended first. He was a tall, fat man with a florid face and a greasy exterior. His clothing was ill-fitting and ill-maintained. How could anyone take such a man seriously? Mrs. Charlotte Collins, Elizabeth’s intimate friend, quit the carriage next, smiling at the attending coachman. Darcy waited with bated breath for a much-desired glimpse of Elizabeth, at which point he planned to hurry to her side in the drawing-room. He waited. He watched. He wondered. What was taking so long? Why had she not come out yet? His heart beat wildly as the carriage pulled away.
“Where is Elizabeth?”
~*~
It was for the best, Elizabeth mused, that she did not go to Rosings with the Collinses that evening. By now, she had had her fill of the haughty Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Time spent in her ladyship’s company often required a defensive posture on Elizabeth’s part as the former never tired of insinuating herself into everyone’s business—Elizabeth’s family, the Bennets of Longbourn, in particular. That evening, however, avoiding Lady Catherine was not Elizabeth’s primary aim. No, in that instant, she was furious with her ladyship’s nephew Mr. Darcy over what he allegedly had done.
Report of the gentleman’s offenses came directly from his relation’s mouth—a Colonel Fitzwilliam. The colonel was not only Mr. Darcy’s cousin, but he was one of his closest friends and no doubt a confidant. He had spoken openly and with feeling in praise of Mr. Darcy and had expressed no doubt about the truth of what he said. Naturally, therefore, it must hold sway.
As furious as Elizabeth had been at hearing all that Mr. Darcy had done, she maintained her reserve until she and the colonel parted ways. Hours later, the dark mood that the unfeeling, arrogant Mr. Darcy had brought on lingered with Elizabeth, and as if intending to exasperate herself as much as possible against the officious Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth chose for her employment the examination of all the letters her dearest sister, Jane, had written to her since her being in Kent.
Jane’s spirits were as low as ever, and now Elizabeth had confirmation of what she had suspected all along, even if there was a time or two of late when she wished with all her heart she was wrong. According to the colonel’s testimony, Mr. Darcy had actively conspired to separate his friend Charles Bingley from Jane all those months ago.
Just like that, all the goodwill Mr. Darcy had garnered with Elizabeth during his stay in Kent—despite the string of deficits he had amassed while they were in Hertfordshire—was gone.
All the occasions they accidentally met in the lanes when he would turn and walk with her. The good-natured banter they shared, often at his own expense. Every incidental brush of his hand. Everything had amounted to this.
We are no better off now than we were when he left Hertfordshire. No—we are much worse off, for now he has given me sufficient cause to dislike him over a hundredfold.
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