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| Steventon Rectory |
I've been busy with a new book, Project Darcy, which is out now and on a special Christmas offer on Kindle, along with Mr Darcy's Secret and Searching for Captain Wentworth. Here's a little blurb about my timeslip novel which is inspired by Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice:-
A LOVE STORY LOST IN PRIDE & PREJUDICE... It is high summer when Ellie Bentley joins an archaeological dig at Jane Austen's childhood home. She's always had a talent for 'seeing' into the past and is not easily disturbed by her encounters with Mr Darcy's ghost at the house where she's staying. When Ellie travels into the past she discovers exactly what happened whilst Jane danced her way through the snowy winter of 1796. As Steventon Rectory and all its characters come to life, Ellie discovers the true love story lost in Pride and Prejudice - a tale which has its own consequences for her future destiny, changing her life beyond imagination.
Hopping about on the cold floor pulling on long
woollen stockings, I reached for my dressing robe and tip-toed to the window
avoiding those places on the oak boards that I knew would creak with a loud
retort and wake the rest of the house. Outside, beyond the snow-powdered casement,
pine trees glittered with ice crystals in the pearly morning light, and the
fields stretched away under billowing, white folds like sheets flapping in the
wind on washday. It had been snowing again and all pathways and the road beyond
had vanished save for the trails made by pheasants and foxes, rabbits and other
small creatures that had been up and around in the night searching for food.
All of a sudden, my thoughts were interrupted by the
thud of something white and icy being hurled against the glass. It was a
snowball! Looking out through the window once more, I could see nothing at
first until the sight of a figure stepping out to look up caught my attention.
Running downstairs with my hair flying and giving not a care for anything
except opening the front door, I felt the same kind of excitement that I’d been
conscious of at the Manydown ball. I opened the door with caution but the figure
had gone, and although I’d only glimpsed him I knew exactly who had thrown the
snowball at my window. I looked all about, but Tom had truly
disappeared. I was about to shut the door when I noticed a small package
at my feet on the step.
I ran to my room with the precious parcel. With
trembling fingers I untied the scarlet ribbon that bound the small box to
discover a sprig of mistletoe inside, tied with the same ribbon, its milky
pearls still glistening with snow. There was a note.
To Miss Jane Austen - a poem, with apologies to Mr
William Cowper from whom I have stolen said verse and rearranged for my own
ends. Please think on me when you behold this token.
To a Friend
What Nature, alas! has deni’d
To the delicate growth of our isle,
Art has in a measure suppli’d,
And winter is deck’d with a smile.
See, Jane, what beauties I bring
From the shelter of an obliging tree,
Where the flowers have the charms of the spring,
Though abroad they are frozen and dead.
’Tis a bower of Arcadian sweets,
Where Flora is still in her prime;
A fortress to which she retreats,
From the cruel assaults of the clime.
While earth wears a mantle of snow,
This mistletoe is as fresh and as gay,
As the fairest and sweetest that blow
On the beautiful bosom of May.
Thank you for so many exquisite moments last night,
dearest Jane,
Your friend,
T. L.
Holding the be-ribboned mistletoe to my cheek I
delighted in his simple gift as if it had been a token of gold. How clever and
unexpected of Tom. I’d hoped I might see him, but this was the next best thing
and could only remind me of last night. It hadn’t been a dream and Tom was clearly
thinking of those stolen kisses just as much.
With thoughts of my handsome Irishman dancing in my
head, I washed and dressed in a dream. The house was stirring. I could hear the
familiar murmur of my parents talking in the next room, and knew they would be
wishing to break their fast very soon. I rushed downstairs to help Nanny
Hilliard and Nanny Littleworth who insisted they needed no help at all so I
dashed to the quiet parlour to sit at my writing box and fetch out a piece of
pressed paper. Cassandra must be told my latest news about Tom if she were not
able to meet him herself.
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| Jane and Tom Lefroy at the Ashe Ball |
As if my very thoughts had been read the post was
brought in, and there was a letter from my dear sister. Cassy told me how she
was passing her time pleasantly with the Fowles, but that it meant she missed
her Tom even more. Spending time with his brother who reminded her of him so
much was very hard, but in her usual stoical style she wrote that she had time
to spend on sewing shirts for him and thinking about her wedding clothes and
much else. The letter went on:
I am certain your Tom is as much the gentleman as you
describe and I am very sorry not to meet him, but I cannot read your last
letter without giving you a hint of caution. Please be sensible of those people
who will take pleasure in gossiping about the pair of you if you do not
disguise your partiality. You should not show your preference for any
gentleman, and, in any case, I do not think you should neglect those you have
been pleased to call your dancing partners in the past – there are always those
who are ‘willing’. Do not let Tom single you out for more than two dances or
for too much conversation – it may not be safe – Tom will not be in Steventon
forever, and it might be propitious to look closer to home for a husband.
Besides, if you have set your cap at Mr Lefroy, you
will leave these other fellows broken-hearted. Can it really be true that you
are to dance your last with the beaux of Steventon? The Hampshire lanes will be
strewn with lovelorn gentleman, and on my return, I will, no doubt, have to
counsel them all!
But, I cannot believe that you truly mean never to
dance again, except with a charming Irishman – especially one who chooses to
display his shocking want of taste by dashing around Steventon in a light
coloured morning coat! Now I understand why the pink Persian silk was so
important – no doubt, you shall wear it under muslin for the next ball.
Now, I have given you my sisterly advice, I shall say
only this: I hope you have a wonderful time at the next evening party and have
many partners with which to dance, although I fear that you and your Tom may
expose yourselves too much for propriety. In any event, I will allow you to
step out for the first two with the handsome Mr Lefroy, and I remain,
Yours affectionately,
Cassandra
p. s. I long to hear all about the ball at Manydown!
Happy Christmas, with love-
Jane Odiwe
1 comment:
Looking forward to reading more!
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