I always find this book hits on so many truths we can encounter when we dare to date/wed someone our family does not approve. Perhaps, Mr. Bennet takes his protests a little too far, but I think in balance of the entire series, it’s easy to trace his difficulties that are heightened by his looming mortality. I have been a daughter to defy my parents on various issues, some I was correct, some not, and it was very cathartic to write those frustrations through the lens of fiction…. I get to control the ending 🙂Â
XOXOXO Elizabeth Ann West
Chapter 31 - The Blessing of Marriage, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
Citing exhaustion, Elizabeth Bennet retired to her room upon reaching Netherfield Park, another action her Mr. Darcy seemed to understand. Elizabeth found her maid Betsy dutifully waiting for her mistress’ needs. For once, the unhappily dejected Lizzie Bennet accepted the luxuries of her new financial status. In fact, now that her family was lost to her for the likely future, Elizabeth Bennet felt less and less like a Bennet. She felt a definitive shift in her thoughts and cares towards her new identity that would soon be in her possession as Elizabeth Darcy.
As Betsy removed the pins from her lady’s hair, Elizabeth considered her complexion in the looking glass. It was the same looking glass that less than a year ago she had gazed at herself and decided to set her sights upon the handsome man who had run her over with his horse. The trials and tribulations both of them had been through, plus the added aggravations Elizabeth had managed to foist upon his shoulders, were quite comical as she began to count them up in her head. Still, the slackened face in front of her with dark circles under the eyes and dropped shoulders cautioned her about her health. She put on a very good show, but there was much healing inside her body going on from the vicious attack in Kent over four weeks ago.
“Betsy? I should like a cup of tea and a few small sandwiches if you please. And please ask Cook for a calming blend, if you would?”
Betsy stopped brushing Elizabeth’s hair to attend to the lady’s request right away. A calming blend was the tentative euphemism Elizabeth had adopted for when she requested a drop of laudanum be added to her tea. For some reason, it was easier to take her medicine pretending to be unawares than it was to accept the draught at face value.
Waiting for her tea, Elizabeth pulled the brush through her own locks to bring shine from the roots to the very tips. Admiring her long dark curls that fell nearly to the middle of her back, a knock on the door interrupted her rare preening session.
Realizing she was not dressed to receive company, and her maid had already left, Elizabeth dashed to her own dressing room just as there was another knock. Frantically, she tried to find her robe.
“Just a moment!” She called out as she realized her robe could not be found anywhere in her dressing room! Perhaps Betsy had taken it down to be laundered? Frustrated, Elizabeth darted back to her main room and ripped the quilts off of her bed to wrap it around her shoulders. “Who is it?”
“Dearest? I merely wished to check on you before I fenced Charles.”
Elizabeth laughed. Of course it would be Fitzwilliam knocking on the door. If it had been Jane, she would have knocked once and opened it. Elizabeth chastised herself for her panic and opened the door to a rather fetching Darcy in his full fencing attire. White breeches and a snug, thick cotton jacket hung on his body to show off a rather delicious athletic build her future husband carried.
Fitzwilliam, for his own part, experienced his own temporary lack of speech over a vista of Venus with a crown of flowing locks enshrined by the sunlight behind her standing in the doorway.
“I am well.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow as his lover’s filter of her appearance faded away so that his worried suitor could see the effects of the morning’s unpleasantness in the shadows of her eyes and sagging cheekbones. “You look tired, my dear. If we were home, I should sit with you and read until you fell asleep . . .”
Elizabeth took a step to press her cheek against his chest, allowing Fitzwilliam to embrace her with one arm in the narrow space of the half-open door. “And I should love to fall asleep to the sound of your voice, but we cannot do that here. I sent Betsy for a cup of tea and after that, I suspect I shall take a rest most soundly.”
Darcy felt proud of Elizabeth’s progress in following Dr. Matthews’s orders. One time, not so long ago, he envisioned nothing short of tying the woman to her bed would make her listen to reason and rest from her injuries. “Then I shall leave you so that you might take a rest, and you should know that I have apprised Bingley and your sister of this morning and they have pledged to continue to support us no matter what we may decide.”
An unwanted sweep of nausea washed over Elizabeth’s stomach as she realized the morning’s disaster sealed their fate to cross the border to wed. Elizabeth had no desire to wait until she was one and twenty that August. The principle of marrying Mr. Darcy did not displease her in the least. But her mind had not yet accepted there was no more hope for reconciliation. Nor did any exist for her to be married in her childhood church. All of her despair combined with the loss of her family’s blessing and she suddenly felt moved to tears.
Darcy pulled back as Elizabeth began to cry, confused at the source of her tears, he shifted his weight between his feet. “I have distressed you.”
“No, please do not read too much into these fresh tears. I need to rest. This morning’s interview with my family is still heavy upon my heart and causes me great pain utterly outside of my control.” She reached her hand out to grasp Darcy’s and gave it a firm squeeze. With a small smile, she nodded her head at him as Betsy could be seen bringing a tray of tea up the stairs towards her lady.
Darcy bowed and kissed Elizabeth’s hands in full view of Betsy before taking his leave. As Elizabeth watched him walk away, she kept the door open for Betsy. The young maid blushed a deep shade of red.
“Betsy, how do you feel about taking a trip to Scotland?” Elizabeth asked the maid as she readied her tea.
“Scotland, ma’am? I should have to ask Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, of course.” Betsy cast her eyes down to the lush carpet underneath her feet, only looking up when Miss Bennet began to laugh.
“Yes, yes, and all of that. My sister will be the first one to say you have her blessing to continue on as my personal maid when we all leave for Scotland in due time. I merely wished to ask you myself if you hold any moral objections to your mistress consenting to an elopement with a man.” Elizabeth accepted the completed cup of tea and took a sip as she waited for her maid to answer.
Betsy Reilly shifted nervously as she considered her answers. But with complete confidence, she shook her head. “I think Mr. Darcy as one of the finest gentlemen I’ve ever met. He is very kind and respectful both times he’s been in this house. I don’t hold any moral conflicts if he be the man you are planning to elope with.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at Betsy’s honesty of how Mr. Darcy behaved with the people of lower stature. It was one of the many admirable qualities she knew as a truth about him when her mind was not running away with fanciful diversions about his personality. She also recognized that Betsy still held minor reservations about an elopement in unspecific terms, but Elizabeth didn’t hold that against the girl. It was reasonably accurate to say that Elizabeth’s own opinion on the matter matched that of her maid. In practice, she knew there was no choice but to elope with Mr. Darcy but in theory, she would never advise a friend to take such drastic measures.
“Thank you, Betsy, for your candor. While you are free to discuss this matter with Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, I hope I do not need to remind you that the rest of the staff need not be bothered with the plans of the household occupants.”
Betsy nodded her head and offered a small curtsy as a show of dutiful obedience. Elizabeth finished draining her teacup and offered the delicate piece of china back to be placed on the tray. Looking over to her bed, she led herself to its softness as she still gripped the quilt around her body. Releasing the covering, she tried to straighten it back out onto the bed but Betsy hastened to assist her.
Once Elizabeth was safely tucked into the bed, she began to yawn and feel very sleepy indeed. Betsy closed the curtains around the framing to allow her lady to sleep and carefully tiptoed out the door. With the noon sun blocked from her view, Elizabeth felt no struggle against the medication in her drink, never even having the energy to eat the sandwiches.
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Chapter 32 - The Blessing of Marriage, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
The small hovel leased by Rosemary Younge held no deceit of fancy lodgings but was clean and free of rodents, which was more claim to fame than other apartments of a similar size on the same street. The sun had long since claimed a high position in the sky when George Wickham opened the door and returned to his temporary quarters since his dismissal from Darcy’s house. His paramour hissed and clicked her tongue as he waltzed forward to scoop her into a warm embrace.
“Rosey O Rosey, sing us a song! One of riches and daring feats for the bold!” Wickham continued his nonsensical sputtering until Mrs. Younge batted his hands away.
“I noticed you ain’t be coming home in the respectable hour. And that be a lady’s scent upon that shirt of yours or my nose be deceiving me.”
Wickham shrugged his shoulders and continued to grin. “Ran into Mrs. Wickham last night at the party. Took your Georgie two shakes to convince her to play her part and as a result, I am now the proud owner of this.” Wickham retrieved a folded piece of parchment from his breast pocket. Tentatively, he opened the missive and read a different set of names almost entirely from the brief glance he got at the club when he joined Lord Strange’s scheme. He furrowed his brow and shook his head.
“Aye, and you be out all night and all morning. You must think me an utter fool to swallow your lies. Now go on, get out of here! There be no warm bed for you here when you so easily take another woman in yer arms.” Rosemary Younge wrung her hands on her stained apron and motioned towards the door with the tilt of her head.
“There be no rest for the wicked… Besides, if you throw me out now, you won’t learn about the estate I apparently have inherited.” Instead of complying with Mrs. Younge’s request for him to leave the house, George took a seat in a chair at the single table and propped his feet up in one of the spares.
Mrs. Younge’s voice faltered as she attempted to repeat what he had just said. “Es— Es – Estate? Who could possibly have left you such an inheritance? The son of a steward got no rich uncles and aunties.”
A stormy expression crossed Wickham’s face for a moment as he realized that Georgiana’s information about Rosing’s brought many valid questions, such as the one posed just now by Rose. As far as he knew, he had no claim to Rosings and it was a vital piece of the puzzle that he was missing, with no idea on how to procure such clarity, for him to move forward with his plans. Waving his hand away to dismiss her petty inquiries, he continued on. “It makes no matter now, I have the ammunition I need against Lord Strange and his men. Once we take advantage of that, we can worry about the estate. The source of information about my prospective inheritance is a sound one. I can’t say I have all the pieces in place, but even you can find the value in being put up as the mistress is such a grand house?”
A flicker of fantastical happiness flashed across Mrs. Youngs’s face and Wickham pressed for his advantage. He returned the ledger to the safety of his breast pocket and stood again to claim Mrs. Younge’s hand in an impromptu dance the likes of which would happen in a grand ballroom at an estate such as Rosings.
“We’d be the perfect country gentlemen and lady, . . .”
“And your wife?” She participated in the silly turns and steps but reminded him of one minor hiccough in his dream.
“Oh, I’ll lock that shrew in an attic room somewhere…”
Mrs. Young giggled and twirled as she allowed herself to join George on his fanciful trip through a future about as likely as her being invited to tea by the Prince Regent.
“I can’t say I know why I’m eligible for the estate, but only that damn devil Darcy and his uncle have conspired against me with their solicitors to deny me my inheritance.” George stopped the dance as his anger returned over the letter Georgiana had shown to him.
Mrs. Younge was familiar enough with the Darcy family from the short time she is in their employ to begin working out the same conclusion that Wickham had already accepted. “But to be eligible, you have to be the son of –”
“Not the steward of Pemberley,” he finished.
Her heart began beating faster as the inconvenient truth became clearer. It was always odd to her that a man of such lowly birth would be raised up in such a manner as to go to school with the likes of Fitzwilliam Darcy, heir to half a county! Such attentions and spoiling were to be expected for bastard children of the master, but Mrs. Younge never expected that to be true of the Darcy lineage. She remembered quite clearly how none of her attempts at flattery or guised incentives to hiring her as a companion to his sister had made any effect on the cold man from Derbyshire. As tightly wound as the son had been, the elder Darcy generation seemed unlikely to be loose in morals. But if Georgie were not Wickham, but of the noble bloodline of de Bourgh, she could see the Darcy family trying to do the honorable thing by an innocent child.
“We must visit the solicitors without delay! Perhaps they have not moved against you far enough to prevent any claim, and you are married to his sister? That must count for something!”
Wickham pressed a kiss against the saucy, smart lips of Rosemary Young and reached down to fist a squeeze of her womanly assets. “I step near those offices Darcy will be tipped off and I might lose all that is owed to me before I can turn my head. No, these rich men, they play by a different set of rules and if I’m joining the game, it’s going to take a better plan than just a spilled drink to steal a piece of parchment.”
Mrs. Younge licked her lips and allowed her own hands to roam, feeling both the high of such unimaginable riches just beyond their fingertips and the success of his mission last night. She helped him out of his coat as he pulled his linen shirt from its careful tuck into his breeches. “You’ll find a way, you’re smarter than the lot of them put together, you are.”
George groaned as Mrs. Younge’s hands reached lower on his person. “In the meantime, I may have to pay a few niceties to that wisp of a wife of mine. But you understand, don’t you my lovely? Yer ole Georgie wants nothing more than to lay solely with you, but some necessary evils are needed for our future.”
“Don’t bother pretending such an arduous duty for you to wet your wick in two wells. So long as you don’t lie to me and always come home when you can, I’ll be waiting.”
Further discussion became unnecessary as Wickham and Mrs. Younge furthered their understanding between the sheets in the meager bedroom. Even a practiced Romeo like George Wickham couldn’t survive the sort of adventure of a late-night-escapade, nocturnal activities with his wife, plus satisfying his mistress without exhaustion catching up with him.
Satisfied after their liaisons, Wickham fell sound asleep long beyond past the time Rosemary left for her job at the pub. She locked up and made the trek to Alfie’s with a bounce in her step she could not hide. The usually careful and observant woman of the streets didn’t notice the bullish figure with a pile of cigarettes at his feet, a sure sign he’d been holding up the wall a long spell. As Rosemary Younge disappeared into the flux between respectable daytime business and the shrewd commerce after eventide, the man put out his smoke and ducked into the crowds himself.
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 33 - The Blessing of Marriage, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
Properly attired for dinner and feeling much better physically and emotionally, Elizabeth entered the preferred first-floor sitting room of her sister Jane only to shriek in happiness. Sitting on the sofa in a close sisterly conference, Kitty Bennet leaped from her sitting position to greet her sister she had seen the least of in the last six months. The two women hugged as Jane gently clapped her hands to join the squeals of delight.
“I walked here, just like you. But you must follow me for I have a gift!” Kitty energetically dragged Elizabeth further into the room so that Elizabeth might see the large collection of art supplies and a particular canvas resting in a carefully laid position on the far side of the room. Elizabeth gasped as soon as she saw the first telltale signs of the subject matter for the painting.
“You truly painted it? Oh, Kitty, your skills have blossomed far beyond anything I have seen, including the exhibits in London.” Elizabeth carefully walked forward and fell to her knees before the painting so that she might inspect the intricate detail her sister had captured of her most favorite place in Hertfordshire: Oakham Mount.
Kitty wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “You and Jane are merely encouraging me where I promise no encouragement is needed. I love my sketches and thanks to you, have quite enjoyed learning to watercolor, as well.”
“Nay, we do not put on airs. You have a real talent that has been squandered in a most reprehensible manner. If we were staying in the neighborhood, I should have a studio made for you here,” Jane said.
Kitty shrugged at her elder sister Jane’s suggestion. She did not wish to covet such an incredible opportunity like a studio when it was unlikely she would ever have one. When she had left Longbourn that morning, Kitty’s alliances felt very defined in her mind: she was loyal to her elder sisters over her parents. But removed from Longbourn and hearing Jane’s opinion as a stark contrast to the peacemaking Jane that she knew from before, Kitty suddenly felt the guilt of disloyalty cloud her judgment. If her father were to learn where she was there was no telling what the consequences might be, perhaps even so grievous as Elizabeth’s casting out.
“We did not mean to upset the family this morning with our visit. I hope you don’t believe that I am Mr. Darcy’s mistress.” Elizabeth’s hand reached out to touch Kitty’s as she recognized a withdrawal in her sister.
Kitty shivered at her sister’s touch but shook her head with a warm smile. “Jane told me the gossip was false. Mary is enjoying the center of attention for the first time in her life and spends most of the day parroting the prejudices of Mama.”
Elizabeth mulled Kitty’s analysis of the situation over. “’Tis true, at least, she did not quote Scripture at me.”
The three Bennet sisters shared a giggle at the expense of a sister not present when a clamor outside the sitting room closed off any thoughts of further frivolity. Jane’s face looked pained as she began to get up from the sofa, but Elizabeth was faster and urged her elder sister to remain.
“Please, Jane, rest. I’ll see what the matter is.” Elizabeth walked over to the excessively tall door and snappily nodded for the footman to open it. In the foyer before her, her father stood arguing loudly with another staff member of the house. Mr. Bennet ceased his yelling upon seeing his wayward daughter standing in the doorframe. His hat in his hands, he gripped the brim even firmer and pulled it closer to his chest.
“My Lizzie,” he said.
Elizabeth Bennet waited not a second longer before she crossed the foyer in two leaps and embraced her father with all of her might. To her surprise, the man gripped her back just as fiercely and Elizabeth began to cry. All she had wanted was for him to accept her again. Still in her father’s embrace, she listened as he whispered over and over again how much he had missed her.
Father and daughter finally let go and Elizabeth started the questions. “Why have you come? Do you finally believe me that I’ve done nothing to bring shame on our family, please know this.”
“That’s all behind us now. I hear tell your younger sister is here, collect her and let us go home.” Mr. Bennet looked furtively at the sitting room behind Elizabeth’s back. By this point, Kitty had come to stand in the doorway to see if Elizabeth needed any help.
Confused, Elizabeth looked back and forth between her sister and her father. “You truly wish for me to come home? Until my wedding?”
Mr. Bennet scowled and beat his hat against his thigh. “No, you cannot marry that man! And I do not care if you should carry his child as the papers say. Whatever have been your mistakes, Elizabeth, I shall bear the brunt of them. I was angry and a fool to think sending you away would change your very nature, a nature I cultivated.”
The elegantly marbled foyer that exposed three stories of grand living in the English countryside suddenly felt too tight to Elizabeth senses. Three footmen were now in the foyer and a velvety, baritone voice came from behind her.
“If it is your wish to not marry me, Madam, I will understand you accepting your father’s offer. I do not desire for you to make a decision under distress.” Mr. Darcy stood in his fencing attire with Charles Bingley just behind him. As the negotiations came to a standstill with Elizabeth hopelessly in the middle, Charles excused himself to the sitting room to see to his wife, who had not yet joined the fray.
“See? These wealthy gentlemen are fickle, fickle fancy fobs who will just as soon pick up a lady as they will drop them on their father’s doorstep. Do you hear how he encourages you to come home to your father? Please, Lizzie, come with me and you will not be lost when he tires of your company.” Mr. Bennet’s venomous attack on Darcy was not even so much as parried with a sharp rejoinder.
Elizabeth looked at the man who had raised her from infancy to think for herself and to question the scruples and foibles of everyone around her, including those of higher rank and status. And to her left, stood the man whose eyes revealed a pain that broke her heart. Fitzwilliam was not sending her away. He was not finding a way to call off their engagement. He was refusing to cut her in half, like a wise king of the Bible. And that, Elizabeth realized, was truly selfless on his part and done in nothing but love.
Feeling the courage of a jungle cat roar to life inside, she placed her hands on her hips and spoke her mind. “Father, it is not that I must marry Mr. Darcy but that I wish to marry him. If you would only listen to how he protected me—“
“Protected you from what? You were supported by your uncle until you decided to run off!”
“I was nearly killed by the man you wanted me to marry!”
Mr. Bennet rubbed his chin as Mr. Darcy stepped forward to provide proximal support to his beloved. “What did you think would happen when you ran to Kent and rubbed it in the poor buffoon’s face that you had chosen to become a harlot instead of his wife? I should think no man could stomach that humiliation, relation or not!”
“That is unfair and untrue! Your daughter had every right to expect my aunt’s Parson, a man of the cloth, to behave gentlemanlike in her regard. Elizabeth did nothing to deserve that miscreant’s violence. And even if your supposition were true, what excuse was there for him to beat his wife, Mrs. Collins?” Darcy took a protective step around Elizabeth to stand slightly between her and her father.
“And I am expected to believe you over the behavior of Sir Lucas who came traipsing home, presumably leaving his eldest daughter behind with a monster?” Mr. Bennet glared hard at his other daughter, Kitty, and motioned with his hand for her to come closer to him.
Kitty shook her head. “No, Papa, Mariah Lucas even confessed to me, Mr. Collins-“
“Hold your tongue, Catherine Bennet, this does not concern you. We are going home.”
“He is a monster,” Elizabeth whispered. Darcy’s ears heard his beloved’s statement, but to whom it was applied, he did not know.
Suddenly, Charles Bingley appeared behind Kitty and pushed his way past the small, young woman. His face was red and puffy, his shoulders broad as he marched very close to his wife’s father. “You will get out of my house this minute or I will see you thrown out. You have upset my wife, insulted my dearest friend, and been a bully to your unmarried daughters in my presence. Get out.”
“Come, Kitty.” Mr. Bennet called as he walked away from the very visibly enraged Bingley.
Kitty shook her head and shrank back towards the door.
“I said, we are leaving. And don’t bother collecting your art things, you know your mother will only throw them out again when I tell her what you’ve been up to.” Mr. Bennet held an odd indifference to his voice that did not match the gravity of the situation.
“Miss Catherine is invited to remain with her sister, Jane, in my household, to assist her in her condition,” Bingley said, flatly.
“What does Jane need Kitty for? She has her favorite sister right there to hold her hand and listen to her complaints. Do not push me, Catherine.” Mr. Bennet warned ominously, inhaling audibly through his nose a deep breath.
“I am leaving tomorrow morning at first light, Papa. You shall never see me again after this day.” Elizabeth’s voice echoed in the foyer as she shouted her resolution as loudly as she could.
“Oho, so it was all a ruse, indeed. Marry from the Meryton parish? Can’t wait the three months until you are one and twenty or that midsection will be too big, eh?”
Charles snapped his fingers and the three burly footmen that had been standing in the foyer hustled forward to more or less shove Mr. Bennet out the door. Not a physical fighter, the disgraced, older man shuffled his feet to his wagon still parked in the drive. Mr. Bingley comforted Kitty and escorted her back into the sitting room leaving Elizabeth and Darcy in the foyer, alone.
Elizabeth stood there, staring at the closed front door in abject shock. She had meant the words that she had said, that he would never see her again after this day, and yet, the painfulness of his cruelty cut deep to her core. Mr. Darcy attempted to place an arm around her and pull into an embrace, but all Elizabeth could do was try to reconcile the man that was her father now with the man she remembered from her younger years. She could come to no reasonable conclusion.
“Something must be wrong with him. He has never, I mean, he never even struck me as a child!”
“Ssh, it is not your fault or behavior. He is the one in the wrong, look at how he lashes out at everyone around him,” Mr. Darcy offered.
Elizabeth nodded and allowed Mr. Darcy to offer what comfort he may, but her mind continued to race with worry for her father. She was pulled out of those thoughts as Fitzwilliam let her go and gazed upon her with the eagerness of a child receiving a puppy.
“Are we to leave tomorrow at first light? I should send messengers this evening to ride ahead and prepare the inns.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes. She had declared they were to leave right away, there was no arguing it now. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to feel the sheer joy she thought a bride should feel just before her wedding day. Too much felt unsettled. Too many people she loved faced hardship. But she had to love Fitzwilliam best, and she did not think he could weather another delay.
“Yes, we shall leave tomorrow.”
A twirl and kiss were her rewards, a pastime she would never dislike. Darcy frowned as he realized how close it was to dinner but Elizabeth rightly pointed out with Jane ill, a formal dinner was unlikely. Separating to see to their own tasks, Darcy kissed her one last time before departing to change. For her part, Elizabeth resisted the urge to retreat to her own bedroom again and forged ahead towards the sitting room to help with Jane.
You’ve been reading The Blessing of Marriage
Book 3 of the Moralities of Marriage. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet find nothing but a mess in London after they escape Kent. The town home bare and the Wickhams caught up in Lord Strange’s illegal business venture, Darcy has little choice but to make unsavory friends as Elizabeth heals from her cousin’s attack. With the support of the Bingleys, Darcy and Elizabeth are finally ready to secure their future at the anvil in Gretna Green when Elizabeth has one small request.Â
A novel of 55,000 words, The Blessing of Marriage continues the rewriting of Jane Austen’s amazing story of Pride and Prejudice, wondering what might have happened if Darcy never saved Georgiana from the clutches of Mr. Wickham.
The Blessing of Marriage, Book 3 of the Moralities of Marriage
a Pride and Prejudice novel variation series
Release Date:Â March 14, 2016
310 pages in print.
+ 23 additional Pride & Prejudice variations are available at these fine retailers . . .
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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.