Shortly after the release of The Miracles of Marriage last year, I took a part-time job. That tuned into a full-time job. Then I poured all of my energy into that . . . until I broke. The good news is I resigned. The better news is I’m writing again. The BEST news is I am happy, and I wish you happiness, too. The world is scary right now, but together, we will get through it.
XOXOXO Elizabeth Ann West
Chapter 6 - Mr. Darcy's Twelfth Night, a Pride and Prejudice Sequel Romance Novella
A note from Darcy House to Matlock House almost preserved their privacy for another day. But Madame Walters and her entourage showed up at Darcy House precisely at eleven in the morning, and neither husband nor wife stood presentable for their arrival.
After asking his staff to show them to the downstairs parlor, he addressed his wife snuggled sleepily in his bed sheets. “Did you send word last night you needed your frock replaced?” he asked, half meaning a jest, and half worried she had taken such a step in the brief moments they had parted the previous evening.
“Mmm?” she answered, though when her husband did not come to playfully wake her up, Elizabeth Darcy blinked a few times and sat up to find him in the room barely familiar to her. “Did I send what?”
“Last night, I sent word to my aunt and uncle asking that we would not be disturbed today. Did you send a note elsewhere? Your dressmaker is here.”
“Madame Walters!” Elizabeth covered her face with her hands. Then peeked out and wrinkled her nose, choosing to ignore the openness her husband held about mornings they woke up next to each other to see to his basic needs. That would be one incentive to see her rooms renovated as soon as possible. Looking around, she tried to spy her robe so that she could leave for her barely used boudoir, but finding none, she remembered the connecting door. “I forgot they were coming today! It was all arranged yesterday!”
“Can you unarrange it?” he called out as Elizabeth dashed for the door, naked as the day she was born.
“They’re already here! I could lose her favor!” she shouted back, before the connecting door slammed shut between them.
Mr. Darcy shrugged as his man came into the room.
“Have you ever heard of worrying about a shopkeeper not wanting your custom? Aside from problems of no payment,” Mr. Darcy asked, beginning an uncomfortable new trend of asking his bachelor valet for insight into questions that arose from his discourse with Mrs. Darcy.
“No, sir, I cannot say that I have,” was all Mr. Bollins would answer as he saw to his duties. Mr. Darcy was pensive while his man prepared him for the day.
“I thought I would understand more since I’ve raised Georgiana. But I’m afraid I don’t understand half of the problems Mrs. Darcy shares with me. This morning,” Fitzwilliam paused as his man tied his shirt near his Adam’s apple. “This morning,” he repeated before continuing, “she worried about losing her dressmaker! Imagine that, a dressmaker not taking a Darcy’s call! I’m sure she was mistaken as to the threat to her reputation.” Mr. Darcy nodded to the right to signal he wished to wear his blue coat over the brown.
After his vest and cravat, Mr. Darcy cooperated with Mr. Bollins to shrug on his coat and then stood dutifully in front of the full-length mirror to inspect his overall attire. Before he was married, Mr. Darcy took great stock in how he looked, knowing from a young age the expectations of his station in life required a certain amount of his appearance mattering to others more than himself. Now that he had won Elizabeth’s hand, he inspected his reflection with only her good opinion in mind, and she had long complimented him in dark blue. He might never wear brown again unless her favor changed.
“Have we made an appointment with my tailor?” Mr. Darcy asked his man, the one who normally handled such matters for him.
“Yes, sir.”
“When?”
“Day after next,” Mr. Bollins answered as he continued to collect the clothing around the room. With a slight twist in his lips expressing dismay, he gingerly lifted a chemise belonging to Mrs. Darcy to place into a pile for her maid. Spying his man’s work in the mirror, Mr. Darcy spun around and experienced a sudden, irrational surge of jealousy panging his heart.
“Leave it!”
“Sir?”
“In the future, leave Mrs. Darcy’s belongings alone and only concern yourself with me!”
“Yes, sir,” Mr. Bollins said, bowing just slightly. As his valet backed away from him, Mr. Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and closed his eyes.
“Bollins!” he called, not looking, but his man had not left so he had merely shouted unnecessarily.
“Sir?”
“Forgive me, you were only fulfilling your duties. But unless you absolutely must tidy up to perform your duties, you should not have to concern yourself with Mrs. Darcy’s attire. The maids, or her lady’s maid, can see to collecting her items for laundering. Just because I have married shouldn’t cause you more work.” Mr. Darcy attempted to smooth over his irrational display of emotion with an excuse to protect Mr. Bollins from additional labor.
“As you wish, sir. I am happy to leave the realm of the Mistress to those better suited to see to her needs,” Mr. Bollins said, a statement that could easily apply to more than just the discarded clothing left behind after a night in the marriage bed.
“Please see if my tailor can come today,” Mr. Darcy said, leaving the subject entirely alone, and selected a pair of cufflinks for the day. As Mr. Darcy pointed to them, Mr. Bollins dutifully walked over, to add the last item to complete his employer’s attire until it was time to dress for dinner. “I wish to have a few items refreshed and my aunt shall have me flogged if I do not have a suit made for the Twelfth Night Ball.”
“And if he cannot come today, are we keeping the appointment for two days’ hence?” Mr. Bollins asked.
Mr. Darcy smirked. “Tell him I am indisposed and this is the only time I can meet.”
Mr. Bollins left, with his numerous orders in mind, while Mr. Darcy followed him out. On the landing, he paused and listened carefully, only to find there were no voices below stairs. Instead, the muffled conversation came from his wife’s room. Walking down the hall, he paused for a moment, perplexed on whether he should knock or simply enter the room. Finding the lack of protocol irritating, he turned the handle and permitted himself entry. And he immediately regretted intruding on his wife’s privacy.
“Fitzwilliam!” Elizabeth startled as she saw him open the door and enter over the shoulder of her dressmaker and the woman’s attendant. She had moved her arms to cover her partially exposed stays as a bolt of Prussian blue silk draped over her other shoulder. Elizabeth’s sudden movement caught Gale off guard and she accidentally poked her mistress with a pin. “Ow!” Elizabeth exclaimed, but quickly smiled down at her maid to express she did not fault the young woman. Then her ire turned back to her husband. “Why are you here? You’re ruining the surprise!”
Madame Walters and her attendant turned around to stare at Mr. Darcy as being entirely unwanted and unexpected. When he could offer no immediate explanation, Madame Walters turned back around and continued the conversation she had been holding prior to Mr. Darcy entering.
“As I said, your hemming is impeccable, and if you ever need a position in the future, do contact me. So long as you are leaving with a reference, of course.” Madame Walters complimented Mrs. Darcy’s maid, and also respected her employer.
“Thank you, ma’am, I am quite content where I am,” Gale answered, holding the silk up and looking at Elizabeth as her employer continued to glare at her husband.
“Did you need me?” she asked Fitzwilliam, and Mr. Darcy shifted his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot.
“No, only that I will have my tailor come today as well, to match your plans.” He bowed slightly, catching the shabby nature of the carpet under his feet. When he rose, he looked around displeased to see the state of his mother’s old suite, now his wife’s domain. He had not stepped foot in here since her passing, and felt incredibly ashamed that there had been no preparations prior to Mrs. Darcy’s arrival.
Madame Walters whispered to her client, and Elizabeth called out to her husband as his hand reached the door.
“I have a number of gowns to be fitted for, I’m afraid I shan’t be free until just before supper!”
Mr. Darcy tensed his shoulders, disliking the reversed roles he heard between his wife and this dressmaker. Still, he would never correct his wife in front of others, so he merely nodded and took his leave.
When he returned to his study, he did not find joy in the reminders of their lovemaking the previous day. Overwhelmed by the irrational feeling of abandonment, that he acknowledged in his mind was wholly unfair as his wife was merely fulfilling the duties and obligations of their station in life, he slumped into his chair further demoralized by the stack of work he needed to redo thanks to the spilling of ink. He smiled at the small reminder of his wife’s diminutive hand pressed against his desk top as an imprint of three of her fingers and half of her palm marred a piece of parchment. He laid his hand over top and closed his eyes, feeling his lust for her rise just as someone knocked on his study door.
“Yes, come in,” he called, sliding his chair forward and busying himself with lifting the ruined papers. The one with Elizabeth’s partial handprint he set aside to keep in his desk. Mr. Bollins walked in, a grim expression on his face.
“Forgive me, sir, but we have heard back from your tailor.”
“And? When will he arrive?” Mr. Darcy asked, as though it were a foregone conclusion.
“I’m afraid he cannot come today, as there is a previous appointment, but he can change your appointment in two days’ time to come here.”
“Previous appointment? Can he not allow his assistant to handle such a matter?”
Mr. Bollins stood like a scared rabbit, unaccustomed to seeing his employer so passionate in his discourse.
“Never mind, find me a new tailor.”
“Sir?”
“Surely there is a tailor in all of London who can come today.”
Mr. Bollins held his breath so as not to sigh and slightly bowed to dismiss himself. Finding a tailor of the caliber Mr. Darcy required so close to the festivities of Twelfth Night would be a tall order, and he didn’t want any further assignments.
After Bollins left, Mr. Darcy stood to pour himself a drink, then gazed at the amber liquid in a moment of crisis. He was not a man who drank before breaking his fast! And his wife, she must be famished! Shaking his head at his petulant, selfish desires, he called for Mrs. Abbott.
Once she arrived, he gave directions for trays to be taken to Mrs. Darcy’s room.
“Already done, sir. Mrs. Darcy’s lady’s maid sent a request down a quarter hour ago.”
“Good, that is good. I should like a tray brought here for me.”
Mrs. Abbott began to tell him food was waiting in the dining room, but she stopped herself. The master’s erratic behavior was well spread through the staff, ever since last spring. Mrs. Abbott’s experience granted her the wisdom to note he was a just a young man in love, but without parents to guide him, the strong feelings of a new marriage challenged Mr. Darcy thoroughly.
“Yes, sir, I shall have a tray brought here for you. Would you like me to request Mr. Harlow to come to you?”
“Harlow is here?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir, to discuss the spring plantings at Pemberley. He arrived yesterday.”
“Well, why didn’t he make his presence known?”
Mrs. Abbott tucked her bottom lip under her top, refusing to explain further in hopes that her employer would grasp that the addition of Mrs. Darcy to the household had brought about a great deal of changes for the staff, especially in learning how to anticipate and respect their privacy.
“Mrs. Abbott,” Mr. Darcy prodded his longtime housekeeper for an answer.
“I believe he came to your study yesterday afternoon and determined his interview was best done at another time,” she explained.
Darcy’s face turned red with embarrassment. He needed to learn when his staff was trying to tell him things without direct explanation.
“Tell him I shall be ready for him in one hour,” Mr. Darcy said, letting the matter drop.
Alone once more in his study, he reconsidered his plan for a drink and took a healthy sip. Priding himself to be a man of good regulation, the unpredictable nature of his feelings with Elizabeth and desires to love her warred with his sense of propriety. He considered for a moment if it was too late to arrange a wedding trip for them both, rather ridiculous a whole month into their marriage, but perhaps necessary for them to find their footing. He closed his eyes and saw the image of his wife’s form, alluringly half-covered by that delicate dark blue silk, and licked his lips. When his lustful ruminations were interrupted yet again, this time by the arrival of the tray he requested, he resolved to push all thoughts of his wife aside.
He resolved to learn to control his heart lest it drive him mad from love! Marrying Elizabeth was meant to satisfy the unending distraction the woman had given him since last autumn, not compound its power! Finishing his drink, he set himself to rewriting the ruined letters from yesterday, tucking the handprint of his wife into his top drawer. He would conquer this!
NEW RELEASE
For the Love of a Bennet
What if Elizabeth Bennet traveled with Lydia to Brighton?
A reimagining of Jane Austen’s most beloved tale, Pride & Prejudice, join author Elizabeth Ann West as she writes the romantic adventure story she always wanted! When Lizzy and Lydia arrive in Brighton, it’s very clear that the younger Bennet sister came with very serious plans towards Mr. Wickham. Thankfully, an old ally is also in town, with problems of his own to solve. After Mr. Darcy, himself, is summoned to Brighton to hopefully solve two dilemmas with one wealthy member of the gentry, the whole militia is thrown into an uproar by Wickham’s most dastardly deed, yet. Together, Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy have to save Lydia from her own undoing, or it will mean more than just mere reputations are ruined.
For the Love of a Bennet is a novel length story, currently being posted chapter by chapter on Elizabeth’s author site. This story was originally conceptualized in 2019 as a part of the All Go to Brighton challenge.
Chapter 7 - Mr. Darcy's Twelfth Night, a Pride and Prejudice Sequel Romance Novella
“What would you say to us taking a wedding trip?” Mr. Darcy caught his wife off guard as they enjoyed dinner alone in the dining room at Darcy House. Elizabeth found the topic of discussion intriguing enough to sit up straighter in her chair and ponder it while she lifted her wine glass. She tilted the crystal stem slightly to catch a gleam in the golden rim before answering.
“You mean we should delay our arrival at Pemberley further? I believed there was some haste due to the spring plantings?” She sipped her wine, and the ugly voice of doubt in the back of her mind reminded her of the palatial size of his Derbyshire estate that she was to be mistress of all. A small shiver ran down her spine, and she set her wine glass down to pick up her knife and fork. Gently scraping the filet of trout with herbs and bitter orange slices she took another delicious bite of her favorite fish dish thus far in London.
Her posture drooped though as exhaustion from her ordeal with Madame Walters refused to leave her. Standing upon a stool to be measured and draped all day had caused her to ache in places she had not felt since she had become lost in the woods near her father’s house for half a day before finally finding her way home.
“I met with Harlow today. He is leaving in the morning to begin our plans. There is no longer a pressing need for us to return to Pemberley,” Mr. Darcy said offhandedly, while his wife viewed him suspiciously.
“Harlow?”
“Mr. Harlow. My steward at Pemberley. I had asked him to travel here to meet me weeks ago in coordination with his annual trip to London to meet with our shipping representatives.”
Elizabeth nodded as she tentatively understood the nature of business Mr. Darcy’s estates ran, and she was knowledgeable about shipping thanks to her Uncle Gardiner’s importing and exporting business.
Chewing her food, she tried to think of the right words to speak in order to explore his motives for a wedding trip now and satisfy her own. After the merest glimpse of life in London, a lifetime out at an estate such as Pemberley improved in desirability, even if she felt intimidated in equal measure. At least in the country, she could find an escape with her rambles that were denied to her in the city.
They continued to eat in peace, and Mr. Darcy grew curious as to his wife’s silence. Assuming her to be in agreement in principle, he continued the conversation with another question.
“We never spoke of where you would like to visit. I’ll grant we should likely not set sail for any destination with the nature of things at present. And the Continent is completely out,” he frowned, realizing the limitations for his proposed excursion. “But perhaps there is somewhere you’ve wished to see?” Mr. Darcy stumbled slightly as his wife’s expression became unreadable. Somehow, he was managing to displease her, and he could not fathom how.
Elizabeth finished her wine, and a footman dutifully arrived at her side to refill her glass. Startled slightly at such efficiency, as the staff never performed such at her parents’ home, Elizabeth’s feelings of inadequacy overcame her adventurous spirit.
“I am perplexed at your proposal, Mr. Darcy.” She used his formal name as they were in the dining room. “We had agreed to not take such a trip when the Bingleys proposed it, and we shall be married one month tomorrow,” she paused to offer him a smile as marriage to him genuinely made her happy. “And would we take Georgiana with us and interrupt her studies? It is custom for one to take a sister, and as we left mine behind.…” Elizabeth trailed off as she confronted her husband with many of the logistics he had not considered.
Mr. Darcy frowned. “No, I had intended for us to go alone,” he said quietly, and heard his wife take a small gasp.
Their eyes met with the hazy glow of candlelight in their peripheral vision. Elizabeth gulped, moistened her lips, and then broke their gaze to drink more of her wine.
“Will she not be offended if we were to leave her again after we have been reunited for such a short time?” Elizabeth asked, breaking the spell of sheer adoration that had overtaken her husband’s senses. Elizabeth could guess that a younger sister so often deprived the company of her older brother, especially one that was orphaned, would find another separation unbearable.
Mr. Darcy began to grow irrationally jealous that Elizabeth would worry about everybody else’s needs and concerns before his own. He had asked her to take a wedding trip which should be indication enough as far as he was concerned that he was interested in such an endeavor.
“Are you criticizing my care for my sister?” he asked, and Elizabeth shook her head.
“No, I would never dream of it. But I have learned changes we make affect many around us,” she said softly. Then, trying to steer the conversation back to her husband’s interest, she tried to discuss location once more. “I can confidently say I don’t believe we should travel farther south,” Elizabeth stated, struggling to find an appetite for the roasted potatoes on her plate. “Surely you can agree that would be an inefficiency?”
Mr. Darcy nodded and helped himself to his own wine. Thus far, the conversation had not gone as he planned. In his mind, the prospect of a wedding trip with his lovely Elizabeth was just a matter of packing their trunks and leaving. He had not considered that his wife may not be so inclined to travel as he was.
When the subject of destination did not go well, Elizabeth tried another topic since her husband had not spoken.
“How did your meeting with your tailor go? I’m afraid I could not find an escape from Madame Walters until much later than I had planned. We draped two additional gowns from the original six we ordered yesterday.”
“So many?” Mr. Darcy asked without thinking.
Elizabeth stared at him incredulously. Then he attempted to recover.
“My sister requires far fewer garments,” he explained and his wife laughed at him. Feeling a touch of indigestion from the progression of their dinner, Mr. Darcy stared down at his plate while Elizabeth used her serviette to cover her mouth.
When at last she had finished giggling from a combination of nervous energy and exhaustion, she countered. “Yes, I agree with you that a maiden requires far fewer frocks than the lady who has traveled down the church aisle. According to your aunt, I must have a morning gown, an afternoon gown, another if I attend tea, and an evening gown while we are here in town!”
“That is ludicrous!” Mr. Darcy expressed.
“I do not disagree, that is precisely why I wish to curtail our time here in London and not remain past the Twelfth Night Ball. Did you know that she keeps a wardrobe in all of her houses?” Elizabeth exclaimed at such largesse. Mr. Darcy flicked his eyes to the footmen lining the wall. His scowl made Elizabeth realize she had gone too far in criticizing his family in front of the staff. Feeling a fresh wave of shame and frustration in navigating her new role, Elizabeth’s appetite left her entirely. She folded her serviette and laid it across her plate.
Ever polite, Mr. Darcy agreed with his wife signaling that dinner had come to a conclusion, and he motioned for the footman to pull back her chair as well as his.
As he escorted her up the stairs, holding her hand gently in his, they both agreed to forgo an evening in the parlor. He began to explain about his tailor.
“My regular tailor was unable to come see me today, and so I have fired him and put it to Bollins to find a new one. And I would encourage you to reconsider your interactions with this Madame Walters,” Mr. Darcy explained in the same parental tone he would use when speaking to Georgiana.
“Oh?” Elizabeth asked, rather annoyed, but curious as to how far her husband would take this instruction of his.
They arrived at the top of the landing, and she looped her arm through his as he escorted her down the hall.
“Yes, you must remember that you are the customer, not the other way around. Madame Walters should come at your convenience and be grateful for the Darcy account.”
Elizabeth laughed, a trait her husband usually found so endearing, but lately unpleasant when it was at his expense.
“If I am to understand you, you demanded for your tailor to come here today and he refused so now you have to find yourself a new tailor?” She asked and her husband nodded as though it was no significant matter. He opened the door to his suite. “Do you have any idea as to the amount of work it takes to create a gown as opposed to men’s clothing which is all straight lines and coordinating pieces? You expand your wardrobe with many configurations of vests, coats, and pants whereas my gowns must impress each and every time.”
Mr. Darcy considered his wife’s logic but shook his head. “Be that as it may, as Mrs. Darcy your status alone should make any dressmaker anxious for your call.” His chest puffed with pride as he kissed his wife just below her earlobe.
As the two of them undressed without aid from their staff, Elizabeth yawned. She considered for a moment if this was an argument she needed to win, and deeming there was no prize for such a victory, she prioritized rest over war.
“You are right, Fitzwilliam. I am still learning my way in all of this. I will continue to do my best to bring you honor,” she said, leaning into him to kiss his lips good night. As his hands began to explore her back, and gently squeezed the globes of her buttocks, she sighed.
Lifting a hand to place her palm against his cheek, she looked into his eyes as she spoke. “Would I be a terrible wife to plead for sleep tonight?”
He made a small sound of indignation, but spying the droopiness of her eyelids, he knew he could not tax her further. Inhaling a deep breath, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and whisked her off her feet to carry her to bed. Laid down upon the mattress, she stretched and settled onto her side before he could even make it to his side of the bed. As he nudged over to nestle their forms like spoons in a drawer, she wrapped her arm over his across her midsection. As he listened to her breath slow into a consistent cadence, he staved off desires of his wife with mathematics.
He held an understanding about the cost of his sister’s gowns, and supposed the silks and scope of a matron’s attire likely added to the cost. Multiplying in his head, he began to understand now why his uncle had complained so often of traveling to London for Parliament’s season and the enormous cost of the endeavor. Mrs. Darcy was correct, they ought to leave London as soon as they could, as though he would deny her nothing, he knew she possessed no joy in the fripperies of fashion.
Hours later, Fitzwilliam woke with the room still dark, but Elizabeth’s curls all around his face and the weight of her upon his chest. He smiled and reached down, running his fingertips down his wife’s back, making her wiggle from the slight tickle, but overall arousing touch.
Her voice was raspy, and barely a whisper as she pleaded. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep.”
She rolled to his side, leaving her legs slightly separated in an inviting pose. His hand traveled over her hip and thigh to find his wife teeming with desire for him. Such discovery was all his body needed to respond in kind. Despite his grogginess, Fitzwilliam turned in the same direction, his larger form easily covering her. Instinctively, she tucked her knees up as his hands slipped beneath her bum. Her eyes closed, and her husband leaned forward to press himself against her entry, then slipped in with the slightest of hesitation. They found a pleasing rhythm of rocking their nestled forms as both wondered if their sensations were real or from a dream.
Elizabeth moaned and gripped her husband’s hips with her thighs as the angle of each thrust filled her completely, sending a thrilling pulsing through her body. Each time he pulled away, her muscles clenched in her primal desire to feel the same pulse again and again. The heat of their passions doubled between them, and they both panted as more of his weight fell upon her as he tired from the activity. This produced the added effect of an even deeper connection as she tilted her hips up to squarely line up underneath him.
“Elizabeth,” he murmured as she cried out feeling the pulses overtake her senses, even in his half slumbering state, he continued his pacing through his wife’s peaking.
“I want,” she managed before her husband’s building desires found their release and the two clung to each other as he jerked erratically, trying to simultaneously feel more strokes along his shaft and remain enveloped in his wife’s folds.
Finally, the full weight of him collapsed against her briefly as he rolled off of her, and his strong arms pulled her close to his chest as though she weighed but the same as a feather.
No further words needed to pass, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy found restful sleep at last.
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Mr. Darcy’s Twelfth Night
a Pride and Prejudice Sequel Romance Novella
Release Date: early May 2020
stand alone, mature novella
December 1812
After their double wedding with the Bingleys, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy are on their way to London for the festive season. A social debut with the help of the Matlocks is the last desire of Mr. Darcy’s heart; he just wants time alone with his wife! As Elizabeth Darcy’s insecurities threaten her future happiness, she takes the advice of her aunt. The Darcys attend a Twelfth Night Ball neither of them will ever forget!
This is a mature glimpse into the married lives of our favorite dear couple. If you liked “If Mr. Darcy Dared,” this book is for you. If you prefer Elizabeth Ann West’s sweet and wholesome variations, skip this one.
+ 23 additional Pride & Prejudice variations are available at these fine retailers . . .
A Jane-of-all-trades, mistress to none! Elizabeth Ann West is the author of 8 novels and 11 novellas, 18 of which are story variations of Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.