Tag Archives: Regina Jeffers

Pemberley’s Christmas Governess Blitz

 

Pemberley's Christmas Governess cover

A Pride and Prejudice Holiday Vagary

Regency Romance, Clean Romance, Classic Romance, Jane Austen Fan Fiction

 

Release Date: November 29, 2021

Publisher: Regency Solutions

Two hearts. One kiss.

Following his wife’s death in childbirth, Fitzwilliam Darcy hopes to ease his way back into society by hosting a house party during Christmastide. He is thrilled when his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam sends a message saying not only will he attend, but the colonel is bringing a young woman with him of whom he hopes both Darcy and the colonel’s mother, Lady Matlock, will approve. Unfortunately, upon first sight, Darcy falls for the woman: He suspects beneath Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s conservative veneer lies a soul which will match his in every way; yet, she is soon to be the colonel’s wife.

Elizabeth Bennet lost her position as a governess when Lady Newland accuses Elizabeth of leading her son on. It is Christmastide, and she has no place to go and little money to hold her over until after Twelfth Night; therefore, when Lieutenant Newland’s commanding officer offers her a place at his cousin’s household for the holy days, she accepts in hopes someone at the house party can provide her a lead on a new position. Having endured personal challenges which could easily have embittered a lesser woman, Elizabeth proves herself brave, intelligent, educated in the fine arts of society, and deeply honorable. Unfortunately, she is also vulnerable to the Master of Pemberley, who kindness renews her spirits and whose young daughter steals her heart. The problem is she must leave Pemberley after the holidays, and she does not know if a “memory” of Fitzwilliam Darcy will be enough to sustain her.

Pemberley's Christmas Governess paperback

 

Excerpt

 

Driving regret from his features, Darcy turned to greet Captain Stewart. “We are pleased you have decided to join us, sir.” He extended his hand in greeting. Outside, he caught a glimpse of a petite woman providing directions to what must be her maid and assisting Darcy’s footmen to separate the gentlemen’s trunks. A frown formed on his forehead. The lady should not be left to sort these things out.

Welcome, Captain Stewart,” Lady Matlock called as she descended the stairs on her son’s arm.

The captain bowed properly and said, “Thank you and Darcy for accepting my presence along with the colonel.”

Always glad for more company,” Darcy repeated, while searching the drive once again with his eyes for the woman, who, evidently, had disappeared.

Bingley and his youngest sister appeared to greet the new guests, and, so, Darcy slipped outside to ask Mr. Nathan what had transpired. “Where is the young lady, Nathan?”

The lady insisted on following her abigail around the house to a ‘less than obtrusive entrance.’ She said she would speak to Mrs. Reynolds at the kitchen entrance.”

Ridiculous!” Darcy growled as he went after the woman. “Miss! Miss!” he called, using his long legs to overtake her. “Miss, there must be—”

The lady turned to look upon him, and Darcy forgot to breathe. An odd sizzle of recognition swept through him—an emotion he had never felt previously, but one which felt natural, nonetheless, despite it placing his normal complacency on high alert.

The lady was a good head shorter than he, but not quite as petite as he had first thought. Delicate, very feminine features and a fragile bone structure could not disguise the firmness of character he discovered in her expression. Moreover, the lady possessed the type of eyes in which a man could easily become lost. Intelligent eyes. They glistened from the cold, but when they looked at him, Darcy thought he could see a future that had long evaded his multiple attempts at consideration. Her eyes were green with a touch of woodsy brown. Whether he liked it or not, he suspected they would haunt his dreams tonight, but he took quick note they were equally “haunted,” providing the woman a hint of vulnerability—a look which made him want to reach out and tug her into his embrace and offer her his protection.

Holding his hands tightly in fists at his side to keep the tug of possession from claiming his good sense, he said stiffly, “There is some mistake, miss. You are to join us in the family part of the house. The colonel wrote specifically to ask us to welcome you into our home. Please permit me to escort you inside.”

She stared at him with curious interest marking her features. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and Darcy had the distinct feeling a smile on her lips might be his undoing. “I did not wish to interrupt the colonel’s homecoming. He has spoken often of the wonderful times he has spent at Pemberley.” She glanced around. “It is truly a magnificent estate, sir.”

I am pleased you find it so,” Darcy said, as a smile also claimed his lips. “You should view it in the spring and summer when it is green and full of color.”

She sighed deeply. “I would enjoy doing so very much. When I was—” The lady paused, giving her head a good shake. “My memories are not significant or of interest to you, sir.”

Darcy was not best pleased with her response. He would have liked to hear more of her opinion of his estate and her memories, but, instead, he presented her a slight bow. “Permit your maid to take your bags—” He looked to the girl, who appeared familiar. “I have seen you before, have I not?”

The maid dipped an awkward curtsey. “Yes, sir. I be Mr. Crownley’s daughter, Hannah, sir.”

Of course,” he said. “I thought you away from home.”

I was, sir. In Gloucestershire.”

Darcy nodded his acceptance. “I hope your mistress means to allow you to spend time with your family. Crownley will wish to see you for Christmas.”

I have already told Hannah she may spend as much time as she likes with her family,” the lady explained.

Good,” Darcy stated. “Then permit Hannah and my men to secure your bags in your quarters, and come away with me.” He offered the woman his arm. “The colonel’s mother is eager to take your acquaintance.”

She hesitated. “But I do not know your name, sir,” she said with a pert lift of her chin and with what sounded of a tease in her tone.

He smiled easily, realizing it had been forever since he had felt this light-hearted. “There is no one about to introduce us. The colonel is in the house,” he reminded her.

The lady glanced over her shoulder to the maid. “Hannah holds both of our acquaintances. Could not she perform the deed?”

Darcy could not look away from the lady’s countenance. He said with another grin of satisfaction for the privilege of speaking to such an enchanting woman, “Miss Crownley, might you provide me the acquaintance of your mistress?”

The maid giggled, but she managed a proper curtsey. “Lard, I never thought—” The girl sobered immediately. “Mr. Darcy, may I give you the acquaintance of Miss Bennet? Miss Bennet, the master of Pemberley, Mr. Darcy.”

Charmed, Miss Bennet.” He repeated with a bow. “If you have no objections, miss, I would see you inside the house. You must be quite chilled through standing outside for so long. Derbyshire winters are deceptively cold.”

The lady curtseyed. “Charmed indeed, Mr. Darcy,” she said softly, before placing her gloved hand upon his arm.

As he turned her steps toward the main entrance, in Darcy’s mind, time slowed. Desire as he had never known found a place in his chest. Instead of the main door, he was half-tempted to lead the woman to a nearby folly and enjoy more of the lady’s smiles. An insidious whisper pronounced her as his. Yet, when he reached the still open door, reality slapped him in the face.

There you are, Miss Bennet,” his cousin said as the lady left Darcy’s arm to stand beside his cousin. Edward said, very precisely, “My lady, with your permission, I would give you the acquaintance of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Miss Bennet, my mother, the Countess of Matlock.”

Darcy looked on as the woman, who had just bewitched him with a simple smile, executed a perfect curtsey. “I am humbled, my lady, by your kind recognition.” She glanced to the colonel and smiled largely. “Colonel Fitzwilliam has told me numerous tales of his family.”

The countess arched an eyebrow which said she thought Edward’s actions odd, as did Darcy, for his cousin had shared nothing of the lady with any of his dear family, but Miss Bennet had said something similar to him only moments earlier. Darcy’s aunt smiled her “social” smile. “I believe I speak for all of the colonel’s family in saying we will be most happy to learn more of you, Miss Bennet. For now, welcome to Pemberley.”

From a place on the staircase, Hurst called out, “Now, now, boys. No way for children to act. Louisa, I say do, something!”

Mrs. Hurst caught one of the boys just as Mrs. Anderson came rushing upon the scene. The nurse presented the gathering in the foyer a quick curtsey. “I apologize, Mr. Darcy,” she said, wringing her hands in obvious distress. “I be puttin’ Miss Cassandra down for a nap, and the boys slipped out when Megs was called away to assist Cook. They followed their parents after Mr. and Mrs. Hurst left the nursery.”

Mrs. Anderson’s whole demeanor said she was fearful of Darcy’s disfavor. He did not like the look on the woman, who had been very loyal to his family over the years.

He said, “No harm, Mrs. Anderson. I will ask Mrs. Reynolds to have Megs and another maid take turns in assisting you. I am grieved to have added to your duties. I will see you are readily compensated.”

I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy. Might I be of assistance, sir? I would be happy to return the boys to the nursery and entertain them until the maid can return to her duties there.” Miss Bennet’s earnest expression said she spoke honestly. “Surely there are some items in the house which can be used to entertain the boys. Toy soldiers, perhaps, from when you and the colonel were younger. Most large households store such items away as the children age.”

His cousin suggested, “The grey trunk. Hey, Darcy. We kept all our best cavalry in it.”

Darcy nodded his understanding and looked to his butler.

I believe it was placed in the attic some years back, sir. I can have someone bring it down immediately, Mr. Darcy.”

We should have done so before now,” Mr. Darcy admitted, although, in reality, it should be the Hursts’ responsibility to see their children were entertained.

Miss Bennet immediately handed her cloak, bonnet, and gloves to Mr. Nathan and then climbed a few steps to claim the hand of first one of the Hurst boys and then the other. “Why do you not come with me? Mr. Darcy has promised us a treasure chest full of toys to explore together. Will that not be grand?”

The youngest of the two said, “Yes, ma’am.”

The lady turned to Darcy. “With your permission, sir,” she murmured.

Darcy attempted to keep the frown from his features, but he knew he failed. “I must object, Miss Bennet. It would be the worst of society to accept a young lady into my home as a guest and then expect her to perform the work of a governess. Neither I nor my household can impose upon your good nature in such a manner.”

I assure you, sir, I would not feel put upon in any such way. I prefer to make myself useful, and, as my position in society is one of governess, please permit me to assist you.”

Without waiting for his permission, she turned the boys’ steps toward the above storey and gracefully climbed the stairs to where Mrs. Anderson waited to show her the way. As her little party turned toward the nursery, he heard her say, “You must tell me your names. I am Miss Bennet.”

Governess?” the countess asked her son. “Did Miss Bennet say she was a governess?”

Yes, she did,” the colonel declared. A look of admiration marked the colonel’s features. “Was it not wonderful how she quite readily took the matter in hand? I am very proud of how quickly Miss Bennet proved herself useful to Darcy.”

But—” the countess thought to lodge her objection, likely the same objection rushing to Darcy’s lips.

However, Edward claimed his mother’s hand and brought the back of it to his lips. “I will explain later, Countess. For now, I want to freshen my clothes, and, then, I wish to hear all there is to learn of both Roland and father. How is the esteemed Miss Ashley? Is a wedding date set?” He turned to the rest of Darcy’s guests. “I will look forward to hearing something from each of you at supper.” He looked to Darcy. “My customary quarters, I assume.”

Yes, and the captain is in the blue suite across from you.”

Edward motioned the captain to follow him. “Come, Stewart. Darcy and my mother keep the gentlemen and the ladies in different wings of the house. I will show you the way. If one does not have a guide, he may become lost in a maze of rooms.”

As they all disappeared to different reaches of the house, including the countess and Georgiana, Darcy remained staring off at the point where the lady, who had quite literally sent his heart pounding in a manner he had never experienced previously, had disappeared. Growing up together, Darcy had, most assuredly, idolized his older cousin, for Edward had always appeared stronger and wiser than he, but, until a few moments prior, he thought he had finally caught up to the man; perhaps, even, had outdistanced him in many of the essentials required of an English gentleman. Yet, with absolute certainty, his cousin had once again left Darcy wishing for some “unknown,” which Fitzwilliam possessed.

About the Author

Regina Jeffers,

Regina Jeffers, an award-winning author of historical cozy mysteries, Austenesque sequels and retellings, as well as Regency era romances, has worn many hats over her lifetime: daughter, student, military brat, wife, mother, grandmother, teacher, tax preparer, journalist, choreographer, Broadway dancer, theatre director, history buff, grant writer, media literacy consultant, and author. Living outside of Charlotte, NC, Jeffers writes novels that take the ordinary and adds a bit of mayhem, while mastering tension in her own life with a bit of gardening and the exuberance of her “grand joys.”

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Regency Mid-Summer Mischief Blitz

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A Regency Romance Summer Anthology

Regency Romance, Historical Romance

 

Date Published: July 20, 2021

Publisher: Dreamstone Publishing

 

Seven stories of Regency heroines and heroes finding love in the face of obstructions: mayhem, malice, and mischief.

Varying heat levels, both in the text and during the English summertime.

Seven best-selling and award-winning authors team up to delight your summer holiday reading.

 

A Maiden for a Marquess by Arietta Richmond – Scandal, marriage, dark secrets – is love possible?

Saracen’s Gift by Janis Susan May – From heiress to prisoner – will love save her?

Seaside Summer by Victoria Hinshaw – A wounded warrior fights for love against the odds

The Jewel Thief and the Earl by Regina Jeffers – Each find more than a missing necklace.

Wildflowers and Wiles by Summer Hanford – Is impersonating a peer wrong if you’re family?

The Journey by Becca St. John – Batten down the hatches, hidden hearts on board!

Weekend at Baron E’s by Ebony Oaten – Newly wed to newly dead – don’t tell the in-laws!

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About the Author

Regina Jeffers, an award-winning author of historical cozy mysteries, Austenesque sequels and retellings, as well as Regency era romances, has worn many hats over her lifetime: daughter, student, military brat, wife, mother, grandmother, teacher, tax preparer, journalist, choreographer, Broadway dancer, theatre director, history buff, grant writer, media literacy consultant, and author. Living outside of Charlotte, NC, Jeffers writes novels that take the ordinary and adds a bit of mayhem, while mastering tension in her own life with a bit of gardening and the exuberance of her “grand joys.”

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The Courtship of Lord Blackhurst Blitz

 

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Regency Romance

 

Date Published: April 2021

What happens when a lady falls in love, not with her betrothed, but rather with his cousin?

Miss Priscilla Keenan has been promised to the Marquess of Blackhurst since her birth. The problem is: She has never laid eyes upon the man. So, when Blackhurst sends his cousin to York to assist Priscilla in readying Blackhurst’s home estate for the marquess’s return from his service in India, it is only natural for Priscilla to ask Mr. Alden something of the marquess’s disposition. Yet, those conversations lead Cilla onto a different path, one where she presents her heart to the wrong gentleman. How can she and Alden find happiness together when the world means to keep them apart? Inspired by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “The Courtship of Miles Standish,” this tale wants for nothing, especially not a happy ending, which it has, but that ending is not what the reader anticipates.

The Courtship of Lord Blackhurst paperback


About the Author

Regina Jeffers


Regina Jeffers, an award-winning author of historical cozy mysteries, Austenesque sequels and retellings, as well as Regency era romances, has worn many hats over her lifetime: daughter, student, military brat, wife, mother, grandmother, teacher, tax preparer, journalist, choreographer, Broadway dancer, theatre director, history buff, grant writer, media literacy consultant, and author. Living outside of Charlotte, NC, Jeffers writes novels that take the ordinary and adds a bit of mayhem, while mastering tension in her own life with a bit of gardening and the exuberance of her “grand joys.”

Contact Links

Website

Twitter

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I Shot the Sheriff Blitz

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A Tragic Characters in Classic Lit Series Novel

 

Historical Mystery

Date Published: November 30, 2020

William de Wendenal, the infamous Sheriff of Nottingham, has come to London, finally having wormed his way back into the good graces of the Royal family. Yet, not all of Society is prepared to forgive his former “supposed” transgressions, especially the Earl of Sherwood.

However, when de Wendenal is wounded in an attempt to protect Prince George from an assassin, he becomes caught up in a plot involving stolen artwork, kidnapping, murder, and seduction that brings him to Cheshire where he must willingly face a gun pointed directly at his chest and held by the one woman who stirs his soul, Miss Patience Busnick, the daughter of a man de Wendenal once escorted to prison.

 I Shot the Sheriff tablet, phone, paperback

 

About the Author

Regina Jeffers, an award-winning author of historical cozy mysteries, Austenesque sequels and retellings, as well as Regency era romances, has worn many hats over her lifetime: daughter, student, military brat, wife, mother, grandmother, teacher, tax preparer, journalist, choreographer, Broadway dancer, theatre director, history buff, grant writer, media literacy consultant, and author. Living outside of Charlotte, NC, Jeffers writes novels that take the ordinary and adds a bit of mayhem, while mastering tension in her own life with a bit of gardening and the exuberance of her “grand joys.”

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The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy Blitz

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A Pride and Prejudice Vagary

Historical Mystery

Date Published: August 2020

 

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Fitzwilliam Darcy is devastated. The joy of his recent wedding has been cut
short by the news of the sudden death of his father’s beloved cousin,
Samuel Darcy. Elizabeth and Darcy travel to Dorset, a popular Regency resort
area, to pay their respects to the well-traveled and eccentric Samuel. But
this is no summer holiday. Danger bubbles beneath Dorset’s peaceful
surface as strange and foreboding events begin to occur. Several of
Samuel’s ancient treasures go missing, and then his body itself
disappears. As Darcy and Elizabeth investigate this mystery and unravel its
tangled ties to the haunting legends of Dark Dorset, the legendary
couple’s love is put to the test when sinister forces strike close to
home. Some secrets should remain secrets, but Darcy will do all he can to
find answers—even if it means meeting his own end in the damp depths
of a newly dug grave.

With malicious villains, dramatic revelations and heroic gestures, The
Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy will keep Austen fans turning the pages right
up until its dramatic conclusion.

The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy tablet

Excerpt

 

She had left the pages resting on the small desk to stand and stare out the
window. Heavily, she leaned against the frame. Elizabeth’s cheek
rested against the cool pane. “Protect him, God,” she whispered
to the night sky. She said no more. God would know her sentiments regarding
the probability of Darcy’s demise.

There she had stood from three to five of the clock, staring out the
window, gazing at the road: She had kept an anxious vigil awaiting
Darcy’s return, but saw nothing. As dawn’s fingers broke through
the blackness, her anxiety increased.

“Where is he?” she whispered as she searched the outline of
trees and shrubbery on the horizon. Elizabeth reasoned, “If he were
injured, Mr. Holbrook would have brought word.” For a brief moment,
she felt the satisfaction of Darcy’s continued health, but the dread
Elizabeth had forcibly placed aside returned. “But if Fitzwilliam were
dead …” She stared intently at the narrow path leading to the main
road, the same road her husband would ride upon his return. Hot tears
pricked her eyes, and Elizabeth could not catch her breath. “Would
they not inform me?” she sobbed. “Would they not permit me to
comfort my husband in his last hours? His last minutes?”

A figure appeared at the far end of the path, and for the pause of three
heartbeats, hope swelled in Elizabeth’s chest. She clung to the sash
and watched as the figure moved closer. Her heart lurched. “Not
Darcy,” she whispered. The figure belonged to a woman. “Too spry
for Mrs. Jacobs,” she speculated.

Whoever it was, Woodvine was the woman’s destination. Elizabeth
turned from the window. She quickly gathered Samuel’s journals and
shoved them from view between the mattresses of her bed. She would hide them
more carefully upon her return. Elizabeth shed the satin robe she had worn
over a simple chocolate- brown day dress to ward off the night’s
chill. She had chosen the brown dress for its warmth when she had hoped to
accompany Darcy to the field. When her husband had refused, Elizabeth had
remained dressed for an impending emergency.

Now, she caught up a heavy wool shawl before rushing toward the
servants’ stairs. Elizabeth meant to meet their visitor and learn news
of her husband. Surely, a woman would not be on the road at this hour
without words of pressing importance.

She burst into the kitchen just as the door opened quietly upon the room.
Few servants were about at this hour, and, other than a scullery maid
filling a kettle with water at the well, no one stirred. The familiarity of
the visitor’s countenance subtracted from the surprise Elizabeth might
have felt otherwise.

“Mrs. Ridgeway?” Elizabeth hissed. “What has brought you
to Woodvine at this hour?”

The woman glanced to where the door to Mrs. Holbrook’s small room was
propped open with a broom. She stilled, her features, initially, proving
unreadable. However, with a grimace, the housekeeper caught
Elizabeth’s arm and tugged her in the direction of an alcove, which
served as a stillroom. “I came to fetch you, Mrs. Darcy,” she
whispered.

“Why all the secrecy?” Elizabeth asked.

“Mr. Stowbridge did not want the others to know what happened in Mr.
Rupp’s field.”

Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. She let out a long exhale.
It was her impatience showing, but Mrs. Ridgeway appeared to ignore
Elizabeth’s exigency. “You have word of my husband.” The
housekeeper nodded curtly. “Is Mr. Darcy in health?” Elizabeth
asked through trembling lips.

Mrs. Ridgeway tugged Elizabeth along a passage to a side entrance. “I
cannot say for certain,” she said seriously. “For I have not
seen Mr. Darcy personally. Mr. Stowbridge thinks such matters are not in the
realm of a lady’s disposition.”

Elizabeth could hear the strained words, a sound of contention between the
housekeeper and the woman’s new employer, but she had more pressing
concerns. “Speak to me of Mr. Darcy.” She rushed to keep pace
with the housekeeper. They had exited Woodvine and had set off across the
well-tended lawns.

Mrs. Ridgeway spoke over her shoulder at the trailing Elizabeth. “I
possess only the knowledge of a second tongue in what I overheard Mr.
Holbrook tell Mr. Stowbridge.”

Elizabeth caught the housekeeper’s arm and dragged the woman to a
halt. For a discomfiting moment, neither of them moved. “I
understand,” she said with more calm than she possessed, “that
Mr. Stowbridge did not confide in you. Yet, if you possess any knowledge of
Mr. Darcy, I demand you speak of it immediately.”

Mrs. Ridgeway’s eyes appeared distant, and Elizabeth could not read
the woman’s true intentions; yet, she would let nothing stand between
her and her husband. The lady paused for what seemed forever, but was likely
only a handful of seconds. Finally, Mrs. Ridgeway said, “If you will
accompany me, I shall explain what I have learned. I think it best if we
speak while we walk. It will save time, and, as I am certain you will wish
to reach Mr. Darcy’s side as quickly as possible, we should hurry our
steps.”

Elizabeth offered, “Should I have someone saddle horses or bring
around a gig?”

Mrs. Ridgeway tutted her disapproval. “In the time it would take to
rouse one of Captain Tregonwell’s men to assist us, and then have the
gentleman locate us appropriate transportation, you could be reunited with
your husband. That is assuming you do not mind a walk across a country
lane.”

Elizabeth despised the challenging tone in the woman’s voice, but she
hesitated only a moment to glance toward the house before making her
decision. “Lead on, Mrs. Ridgeway,” she said with
determination.

The housekeeper strode toward the line of trees, and Elizabeth quickened
her step to keep abreast of the woman. They entered the shadowy overhang
before the woman spoke again. “This is what I overheard when Mr.
Holbrook came to Stowe Hall in the early hours.” Their pace slowed
when they reached the rough terrain of the wooded area. “Mr.
Samuel’s groom called at the squire’s house at a little past
four of the clock. He told Mr. Stowbridge a most astounding
tale.”

They climbed a stile and descended the other side. Mrs. Ridgeway set a
diagonal path across the field. “Mr. Holbrook spoke of discovering a
coven celebrating Beltane under the stars where the old monoliths are found.
Do you know the area, Mrs. Darcy?”

Elizabeth wished the woman would speak of Darcy’s condition, but she
understood the housekeeper’s perverseness. Mrs. Ridgeway held all the
high cards, and Elizabeth was a mere player. She said encouragingly,
“I am familiar with Mr. Rupp’s land.”

The housekeeper continued her tale and the punishing exercise. When they
exited the field over a like stile, Elizabeth realized this was a part of
the Darcy estate with which she was unfamiliar, but she brushed the thought
aside as she hiked her skirt to maintain her gait. If Mrs. Ridgeway thought
her a pampered lady of the ton, the housekeeper was in for a surprise.
Elizabeth was not afraid of a long walk or a steady stride.

“Apparently, Mr. Barriton had taken Mrs. Jacobs prisoner and
threatened to kill the woman.”

Elizabeth heard the derision in Mrs. Ridgeway’s voice. She supposed
the housekeeper thought Mrs. Jacobs deserved part of her punishment.
Elizabeth said cautiously, “Mr. Darcy and Mr. McKye journeyed to Mr.
Rupp’s land to put a stop to Mr. Barriton’s plans.”

“Well, they certainly managed to accomplish their task,” the
housekeeper declared. “One of Mr. Tregonwell’s men shot Mr.
Barriton after the man shoved Mrs. Jacobs into the fire the coven had built
in Mr. Rupp’s field.”

Fear skated along Elizabeth’s spine. She offered up a silent prayer
that it had not been Darcy who had dispatched Mr. Barriton. She thought such
an act would lie heavily on her husband’s conscience. “Was Mrs.
Jacobs badly injured?”

The housekeeper led Elizabeth deeper into the woods. Elizabeth supposed
this was the shortcut to Stowe Hall, which Samuel Darcy had traversed the
night he died. The thought of how easily someone had overcome the trusting
archaeologist sent a shiver of dread down Elizabeth’s spine. She
glanced around to learn her bearings.

“According to Mr. Holbrook, he was to seek the services of the junior
surgeon Mr. Glover had once trained,” Mrs. Ridgeway shared.

“Mr. Newby.” Elizabeth provided the name.

Mrs. Ridgeway confided, “If Geoffrey Glover trained the man, Mr.
Newby will serve this community well. Mr. Glover was a man of
science.”

Elizabeth’s patience had worn thin. She had thought to permit Mrs.
Ridgeway her moment. In some ways, she supposed she owed the housekeeper
that much, for Mrs. Ridgeway’s forced exit from Woodvine had placed
the woman in an untenable position. In truth, Elizabeth harbored a bit of
guilt for having dismissed the woman, but she could no longer tolerate the
lack of news of her husband. “Please,” she said as she came to a
halt. “I beg of you; speak to me of Mr. Darcy. I cannot bear not
knowing.”

The housekeeper came to an abrupt standstill. She turned to Elizabeth, and
with a smile of what appeared to be satisfaction, she said, “Mr.
Holbrook was to fetch the surgeon to tend your husband. It appears Mr. Darcy
fought with the butler. Your husband was stabbed with some sort of
ceremonial knife. Mr. Holbrook says Mr. Darcy has lost a sizeable quantity
of blood.”

Elizabeth felt her legs buckle, and she could do little to prevent herself
from sinking to her knees. Darcy had been seriously injured. While she slept
at her small desk, her husband had lain in a field, possibly bleeding to
death. “Dear God,” her trembling lips offered in supplication.
“Do not take him from me.” She swayed in place as the darkness
rushed in.

“Mrs. Darcy,” the housekeeper said brusquely. “We have no
time for histrionics.”

Despite wishing to rock herself for comfort, Elizabeth gave herself a sound
mental shake. She bit her lip to prevent the cry of anguish on the tip of
her tongue. She looked up into the disapproving countenance of the
housekeeper. However, Elizabeth did not apologize; instead she managed to
stagger to her feet. “What else should I know?” Elizabeth asked
fearfully.

“Mr. Stowbridge sent word of his late return to Stowe Hall. In the
message, he indicated the surgeon had seen to your husband and had advised
Mr. Darcy to permit Mrs. Rupp to nurse him until a coach could be sent from
Woodvine. However, Mr. Darcy insisted on returning to your
side.”

Elizabeth thought how like Darcy it was to recognize her concern and,
therefore, place himself in danger in order to relieve Elizabeth’s
anxiety. “Where is my husband now? At Stowe Hall?”

“They found him on the road after he could not sit his horse. Mr.
Newby is treating Mr. Darcy in a small tenants’ cottage while Mr.
Holbrook escorts Mrs. Jacobs to Woodvine and returns with a wagon.
Tregonwell’s men assist Mr. Stowbridge with the investigation and the
prisoners.” The woman turned back to the path, and Elizabeth fell in
step beside her. “It was thought Mr. Darcy would prove a better
patient with you in attendance.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, a smile shaped Elizabeth’s
lips. She could easily imagine an aristocratic Darcy barking orders to the
young surgeon. That is if he were able, Elizabeth cautioned the knot lodged
firmly in her chest. “Where is this cottage?” she asked in
concern.

“One more field to cross,” Mrs. Ridgeway said confidently.
“See.” The woman pointed to where a thatched roof could be seen
behind an overgrown hedgerow.

Elizabeth quickened her stride. “Why in the world would they have
taken shelter in such a deserted area?”

The housekeeper shrugged her shoulders. “It is the way of men to make
women’s lives complicated.”

Elizabeth rushed across the field, which now stood fallow. Her heart
pounded in her ears from the speed of their journey and from the
all-encompassing fear that surrounded her. Would she be in time? Mr.
Holbrook had said Mr. Darcy had lost a sizeable quantity of blood. Men did
not normally worry so unless danger existed. Was Mr. Newby skilled enough to
stop the bleeding? What of infection? She lifted her skirts higher and
quickened her pace. Soon she was running, needing to reach Darcy before it
was too late.

Gasping for air, Elizabeth burst into the small cottage, nothing more than
a one-room sanctuary from the cold, to discover a profound silence. Nothing
moved within. Her chest heaved from her run and from the heart-stopping
realization that Mrs. Ridgeway had erred somehow. She caught at the stitch
of pain in her side. “Where is he? Where is my husband?” she
croaked.

An arm caught her across the neck while another hand placed a large damp
handkerchief over her mouth and nose. From behind her, Mrs. Ridgeway’s
harsh words stung her ear. “Dead. Mr. Darcy is dead.”

About the Author

Regina Jeffers, an award-winning author of historical cozy mysteries,
Austenesque sequels and retellings, as well as Regency era romances, has
worn many hats over her lifetime: daughter, student, military brat, wife,
mother, grandmother, teacher, tax preparer, journalist, choreographer,
Broadway dancer, theatre director, history buff, grant writer, media
literacy consultant, and author. Living outside of Charlotte, NC, Jeffers
writes novels that take the ordinary and adds a bit of mayhem, while
mastering tension in her own life with a bit of gardening and the exuberance
of her “grand joys.”

 

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