I'm so excited to have the lovely Joana Starnes visit here today. She always has such interesting posts and this one is no exception. You will also enjoy an excerpt from Chapter 11 of her newest release, The Falmouth Connection. Oh, it will leave you wanting to read more!
Please join me in welcoming back Joana Starnes.
Thanks very much, Janet, for inviting me to
be your guest again, it’s such a pleasure to be here!
Hopefully I might be allowed to begin with
a treasured memory. The summer before last, as I was reading the interviews at More
Agreeably Engaged, one of my happy-places of all time, I came across a post
by Linda Wells and I shall remember it always. There was a paragraph that
stayed with me, for the beauty of the thought and for the delightful way to describe
what it is that all of us authors of Pride and Prejudice variations are doing.
I will quote it here because I think it was just perfect!
Everybody knows Darcy and Elizabeth. What new thing can possibly
be revealed about two characters who have been dissected by hundreds of
writers, on both the scholarly and fan fiction sides of things? And that’s
where it strikes me. How many times have artists painted the same scene? How
many students have sat around a studio with the same model before them, and yet
every painting produced is unique. Each student chooses a particular feature to
highlight, a preferred style and medium to use, and inevitably, each mixes
their individual feelings into the finished piece. The same goes for writing
Jane Austen variations. We all start with the same story, the same characters,
and then… our imaginations are set free to paint that new picture with words. (Linda Wells, More
Agreeably Engaged, 27 August 2013)
So
aptly put, so beautiful – and so very true. Here we are, students painting the
same model, yet each of us using different brush strokes, adding our own shades
of colour, our own touches of shadow and light to produce unique results, even
if the subject matter is the same. If you ever read this, Linda, thank
you for this exquisite image!
We
simply cannot have enough of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, so we spin
new stories, paint new pictures, changing details and angles until we come up
with something unique and hopefully attractive. No, we do not presume to
improve upon Jane Austen. Who can improve on perfection? We just want more of
our favourite couple – and as many versions as possible of the best love story
ever written!
Recently
I have added a new one to the mix. ‘The Falmouth Connection’, my
latest Pride and Prejudice variation, sails on an altered course some days
after Darcy’s arrival at Rosings. He has finally won the battle against himself
and has decided to propose to the enticing Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
But
what if he does not get the chance to utter that most ungentlemanly Hunsford
proposal? What if Elizabeth is summoned to Falmouth to meet a great-aunt she
never knew she had? What if this great-aunt, Mrs. Pencarrow, is very different
from what Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy imagine her to be? What if this unplanned journey
brings Elizabeth into a whole new world – and Mr. Darcy too, for of course he
is compelled to follow! A world of secrets and deception, with an aura of mystery and the ever-present frisson of danger brought by age-old
tales of smugglers and pirates. Not to mention a troublesome French Connection
and a Justice of Peace whom Darcy suspects he is rather different from what he
seems to be…
If you are intrigued, please read the
following excerpt from Chapter 11.
Mr. Darcy has finally arrived in Cornwall,
having had some difficulty in finding the place where Elizabeth and her family
are staying – an ancient house known as Landennis Manor. He arrives to find her
ill-disposed towards him. Worse still, he arrives to find her courted by a peer
of the realm, no less! Moreover, unlike Darcy, Lord Trevellyan had not spent
the best part of their acquaintance striving to ignore her and maintain his
distance. And before the day is out, Darcy will discover some startling truths
and find himself on quicksand, devoid of every familiar advantage…
* *
* *
“But Sir,” Mrs. Bennet suddenly addressed
him, distracting him from distressing ruminations, “I quite forgot to ask.
Whereabouts are you staying?”
“I have not determined, Ma’am,” Darcy
replied in subdued tones. “I have just arrived. I should imagine an inn could
be found in the local village.”
Mrs. Pencarrow, who had kept her peace
since the return of the picnicking party and had merely contented herself with
watching everybody with her sunken yet very penetrating eyes, all of a sudden
laughingly interjected:
“Oh, nay, nay, Sir, we cannot have that!
Landennis Arms is but an alehouse for the people in the village and if
there is a room or two, they are hardly for the discerning traveller. I should
not wonder if you were to find yourself in damp sheets and beset by bedbugs.”
With some effort, Darcy suppressed a
shudder, knowing full well that Elizabeth’s eyes would be upon him. He chanced
a glance, only to find that it was indeed so and that her lips were curled into
a mischievous little smile, as though the notion was highly entertaining.
Was it so very bad, then? Did she dislike
him now to so great an extent that she wished his sleep plagued by bedbugs? The
thought pained him nearly as much as it riled him – and yet there was something
so utterly adorable in her impish turn of countenance and in that little smile
that, without intending to, Darcy found himself returning it in full. Her eyes
widened visibly at the sight and for a moment she was positively staring, as though
she had expected him to be offended rather than diverted – and then she looked
away.
Darcy endeavoured to suppress a sigh at the
magnitude of the task before him, his own eyes forcibly opened over the last
half-hour to the obstacles he would have to overcome in order to re-establish
himself in her good opinion. Hell and damnation, no, he could not even hope for
that! Not re-establish. There was good reason to believe that he had
engaged her affections and esteem only in his over-confident imagination – and
that the task ahead was far more daunting than he had ever thought.
The sigh escaped. He masked it with a
cough, then struggled to attend Mrs. Pencarrow, who had resumed speaking:
“I would very much like to ask you to stay
with us here at the Manor, but I fear you shall not thank me for the offer.
This old place has known a secluded life for far too many years and most of the
bedchambers are hardly fit for purpose after nearly two decades of disuse.
Still, I should imagine ‘tis a trifle better than Landennis Arms and all its
bugs,” she laughed lightly and, despite himself, Darcy found himself warming to
the older woman.
That he would have dearly loved to avail
himself of her invitation, there could be no doubt. The unhoped-for chance to
be under the same roof as Elizabeth and find a way to soften her towards him
was as appealing as could be – and yet he did not need to catch her glance to
know that he would read dismay in her too expressive eyes. Only a fool would
hurt his chances by riling her further so, with some determination, Darcy
brought himself to say:
“I thank you, Ma’am, but I should not wish
to impose upon your kindness,” he quietly offered, then added with the vaguest
hint of a diverted smile: “I think I shall pit myself against the bedbugs after
all.”
A fleeting glance allowed him to see that
Elizabeth arched a brow, although she kept staring at her hands and would say
nothing. As for Mrs. Pencarrow, she merely returned his smile and bade him do
just as he wished, as long as he remembered that the offer stood, if Landennis
Arms proved too much for comfort. In the end, it was only Mrs. Bennet who saw
fit to protest:
“But, Mr. Darcy, surely you cannot subject
yourself to such an inconvenience! As my aunt suggested, you would be most welcome
here, Sir, most welcome indeed!”
It was fruitless to wish for the warm
entreaty to be forthcoming from the daughter rather than the mother. Today at
least, it would not come to pass. With a valiant effort at masking his
distress, Darcy turned to Mrs. Bennet to thank her for the offer and let her
know that he must abide by the original plan. Just then though, from the other
end of the drawing room where he sat, quietly surveying the changing scene
before him with all its undercurrents and wordless exchanges, Lord Trevellyan
suddenly decided to speak up:
“If I may be allowed a say in the matter, I
believe I can claim the doubtful privilege of having seen the inside of
Landennis Arms more recently than most. As such, I truly would not recommend
it, Mr. Darcy, for great many reasons, of which the bedbugs form only a small
part. But, as a treasured acquaintance of Mrs. Bennet’s, you are welcome to
come and stay at my house. ‘Tis but a short distance around the estuary – and
shorter still across it – and I assure you that you can be accommodated without
the slightest inconvenience.”
Darcy looked up in unconcealed surprise at
the wholly unexpected offer – only to meet the other man’s cool stare, fixed
upon him from under vaguely arched brows. It was not the deliberately blank
look that riled him beyond sense and reason, but the glance full of astonished
gratitude that Darcy saw Elizabeth bestow upon the other man. He pressed his
lips together, willing his churning turmoil into some measure of tenuous
control.
Not a fool then, my lord Trevellyan, but a
crafty devil! In one fell swoop – and a rather elegant one as well, Darcy felt
compelled to own – he had gathered most of the trumps and all the laurels. Not
only had he steered him away from Landennis Manor and its environs but – damn
him and his cunning! – by doing so, he had gained the aura of a Good Samaritan
into the bargain.
Gallingly, there was nothing he could say
other than, “I thank you, I am most obliged” – and he said so, with as much
evenness as he could muster.
“Think nothing of it,” the other casually
retorted, then put down his empty cup. “Well then, if you have no objection,
Mr. Darcy, perhaps we should take our leave, seeing as we ought to make
ourselves presentable in time for dinner,” he added and, once more feeling
vexingly outmanoeuvred, Darcy could do nothing but agree.
Adieus were made, restrained and providing
little comfort, and before too long Darcy found himself in his own carriage,
with Lord Trevellyan leading the way on his bay horse.
The journey took no more than a half-hour.
The man was in the right; his house was not far – a grand and very handsome
residence, Jacobean in appearance, atop the hill that overlooked the river
mouth.
Casting the reins to one of his men and
instructing another to see to his guest’s carriage and people, Lord Trevellyan
motioned towards the entrance and they both made their way within.
“Can I offer you a drink while your trunk
is brought up?” the host offered and, once more, Darcy felt that civility compelled
him to agree.
He followed Lord Trevellyan to a room that
presumably served as his study or something of that nature, dark-panelled and
very masculine in its décor.
“Brandy?”
“Thank you.”
Lord Trevellyan poured for both and they
sipped their drinks in silence. For his part, Darcy was rather persuaded that
he had been brought there for an oblique quizzing and, in order to forestall
it, he began at once – much as disguise of every sort was his abhorrence.
“Your kindness is deeply appreciated, Lord
Trevellyan. However, I should not wish to impose upon you. As the local inn
does not come with good recommendations, I can easily lodge in Falmouth and
engage a craft to bring me across the bay – particularly as I expect a friend
of mine to arrive in these parts in a few days’ time.”
“Mr. Darcy, surely there is no cause to
lodge across the bay. You are of course welcome to stay for as long as you wish
and so is your friend, when he arrives. You have only to send one of your men
to Falmouth to await him and escort him hither. As to the local inn, as I said
before, the likelihood of bedbugs is the least of your concerns. From what I
understand, it is the haunt of the sort of people who would not take kindly to
a stranger in their midst.”
“Oh? What sort of people would that be?”
His host smiled.
“Would you not hazard a guess?”
“Smugglers? Pirates? Wreckers?”
His lordship’s smile grew a trifle wider.
“Let us just say, your first guess is not
vastly off the mark.”
“And is the law powerless against them?”
“I daresay I am – to some extent at least.
Oh, did you not know?” he added, noting the other’s expression of surprise.
“Perhaps Mrs. Bennet did not have the opportunity to mention that I am Justice
of Peace for this parish.”
“I see.”
“In answer to your question, I am not so
much powerless as disinclined to wage a losing battle.”
“How so?”
“’Tis the nature of things that in every
part of the world people would make a living by hook or by crook and, after
all, we cannot send everybody to Botany Bay. We catch the big fish – or at
least we try to. But never mind that now. I should imagine your room must be
readied and presumably a bath as well, so you might wish to retire and refresh
yourself, since we are to wander back towards Landennis in a few hours. Ah, that
reminds me. You might find that our steep and narrow lanes are better suited to
riding than to a London carriage. You are most welcome to choose a mount from
the stables.”
“You are very gracious – but speaking of
Landennis,” Darcy resumed, refusing to be sidetracked, “I can only hope that
the unsavoury characters you mentioned pose no threat to the people at the
Manor.”
With a swift, stiff movement from his
shoulder, Lord Trevellyan drained his glass.
“I am making it my business to ensure they
do not,” he said at length and Darcy frowned.
“Would that not be best achieved by
tackling a known nest of vipers?” he asked with an arched brow and for a moment
he was certain that Lord Trevellyan would bristle at his interference.
Whether or not he was tempted to, Lord
Trevellyan did not bristle. He merely offered curtly:
“It would not.”
In the end, it was Darcy who bristled.
“Then how do you propose to ensure their
safety?”
“I have my ways,” was all that the other
was prepared to offer and at that, Darcy rather lost his temper.
“For my part, I hope they will soon return
where they belong!”
“And where might that be?”
“Hertfordshire, of course.”
And in her case Derbyshire, God willing,
but that was something he could not – would not say.
“What makes you so certain that they belong
in Hertfordshire?” Lord Trevellyan drawled, riling him even further.
“I fail to understand your meaning.”
“Mrs. Pencarrow has informed me that their
Hertfordshire estate is entailed upon a distant cousin. A Kentish rector by the
name of Collins, if memory serves.”
A Kentish rector? Collins? Heavens above!
Him? Darcy all but gasped. He was sufficiently acquainted with Mr. Collins to
know that the man had about as much affectionate compassion as the gatepost of
Hunsford parsonage. Heaven forefend, should anything befall Mr. Bennet, that
man would have his family out of Longbourn before he was cold in his grave!
Suddenly, in this light, Mrs. Bennet’s scheming to get her daughters married no
longer held such repulsively greedy connotations.
“You seem uncommonly well informed about
their business,” he observed coolly, to mask his discomfort at the revelations.
“It is my business to be well informed.”
“Is that so?” Darcy snapped, forgetting his
manners. “To the best of my knowledge, Mr. Bennet and his family are not of
this parish and thus beyond your remit!”
“Then perhaps it might serve you to become
better informed,” the other drawled, clearly enjoying his advantage. “As such,
you might wish to learn they have good enough reason to be of this parish. Or
at least one of them has.”
Darcy’s jaw stiffened.
“Of whom are you speaking?”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Lord Trevellyan’s prompt and confident
retort shook Darcy to the core. No! It could not be! He had not proposed
already, surely – and she had not accepted!
“What
makes you claim that?” he asked through frozen lips.
“Mrs.
Pencarrow has chosen to appraise me of her wishes. It appears that each of the
Miss Bennets are to receive a share of the lady’s considerable fortune – ”
“And
what has this to do with Miss Elizabeth Bennet
being of this parish?”
“Everything,
I should imagine. You see, upon her great-aunt’s passing, of all her sisters,
she is to be the mistress of Landennis Manor.”
* *
* *
I hope you enjoyed the excerpt. There is a
giveaway of course: an e-book available internationally. Please leave a comment
to take part and thanks for visiting and reading! Do visit the book’s Facebook
page listed in the links below, for details of giveaway winners and for images
of the lovely places where it’s all supposed to have happened. Janet, thanks
again for having me here, you’re simply wonderful as always and your kind
welcome is hugely appreciated!
Thank you so much for being my guest again, Joana. It is always such a pleasure. I agree that we cannot get enough of our dear Darcy and Elizabeth and the many predicaments that you authors imagine for them, much to our delight! Keep them coming!
As Joana mentioned above, there is a giveaway...an eBook. (international) Yay! Thank you, Joana Starnes. To be entered please have your share in the conversation as we would dearly love to hear from you. Leave a comment and please include your email address so that I may inform you if you are the winner. The giveaway will end at midnight, November 17.
