I just looked and realized I started posting this book in October of 2022. My goodness. So much has changed since then… but it feels so good to be writing again. <3 LOVED writing these chapters and the tension.
Chapter 12 - The Heart of Marriage, Book 6 of the Moralities of Marriage, a Pride & Prejudice Variation
Although Dr. Matthews had regained some of his ability to walk, jumping down to dismount from a horse was beyond his abilities entirely. Instead, Mr. Darcy’s fastest carriage was hitched, and Master Grant rode inside with the master of the estate and his personal physician. OK that makes sense
“Pa won’t be happy I return without our horse,” Josiah Grant said, worried about the change in transportation.
“A groom will return the animal before nightfall,” Mr. Darcy said, reassuring the son of his tenant that the horse would be cared for before traveling again.
“Can you tell us what happened?” Dr. Matthews asked, opening his doctor’s bag and inspecting the instruments inside. A black leather bag filled with polished silver instruments, some of the tools were ornate, gilded, and delicate. Others, like his surgeon’s blade, were brutal and sharp. He prayed if the man did suffer a fracture, it was a tidy one. He did not wish to use the saw resting at the very bottom of the bag.
Josiah Grant’s face paled as he looked out the window of the passing countryside. He blinked his eyes, inhaled deeply through his nose and groaned.
Mr. Darcy had seen that look before.
“Mr. Grant, are you of sound stomach?”
Josiah kept his eyes closed and shook his head. Holding back a belch, he explained the problem. “It’s much different, riding this way, without a horse, ” he explained, and the two other men agreed and began to work quickly to open the windows a crack and let in the winter’s cool air.
“It can be an adjustment,” Mr. Darcy explained, explaining how his sister once struggled with riding in a carriage, becoming most ill on any trip they labored to take.
Again, Mr. Dr. Matthews implored to be given the details of the man’s injury. He was most anxious to know the circumstances he could expect at the farm.
Practically swallowing the fresh air, Josiah Grant began to tell the story.
“My father warned them last week just as you said, Mr. Darcy, that they wasn’t to be plowing in that field anymore. Today, the team of men showed up, but this time they brought others on horses as means of intimidation, Pa said. Well, he wasn’t going to allow that to happen,” the young man explained.
Mr. Darcy closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What did your father do?” he asked, in a flat voice.
“He didn’t shoot no one,” Josiah explained. “He shot up in the air, as a warning. We wouldn’t be intimidated, he said”
Dr. Matthews and Mr. Darcy looked at one another and it was Dr. Matthews who cleared his throat to ask for more information.
“What happened next?” Dr. Matthews asked.
Josiah Grant smiled to recognize the edge of his family’s farm just ahead. Baslow Dale was a verdant strip of land where the Grants had farmed for three generations.
“The horse startled, threw the rider. We managed to catch the beast, but the man screamed, lying on the ground. Pa says he broke his leg.” Josiah finished the story just as the carriage came to an abrupt stop in front of the Grant Farm
Mr. Darcy held out his arm before the door opened and asked a final question so they would not enter the home blindsided. He had not brought any additional weapons than the usual pistols stored beneath the seats for protection.
“What happened to the rest of the men who were with the one who fell? The man plowing the field and any others?” he asked
Master Grant began to stutter, as he hadn’t thought about the danger he might left his father in. “We-we-well, they left, sir. Some fled on foot, and the ones that had horses, they gone, too. Left the man behind, the cowards.”
Mr. Darcy snorted. “Cowards,” he muttered, trying to calculate how long before more violence broke out over the lands that were too fertile and rich for any man to own without claims from another.
The grooms opened the door and in a rare instance of security, Mr. Darcy allowed Josiah Grant to exit the carriage first. When nothing amiss occurred, he leaned out to exit. As he stood on the step of the carriage and looked up in the direction of Lathom House, lying to the north west, he spied exactly what he was afraid of: a group of men riding horses, riding fast and recklessly in their direction.
“If you’re treating that man inside, we will have an easier time of negotiating this misunderstanding,” he said.
Dr. Matthews relented, and ducked inside the small house, finding the room dim and unsuitable for his needs. A woman held a pitchfork up between her and the door, yelling as loud as she could when he merely entered without pounding on the door.
“I’m the doctor,” he said, holding up his bag in defense. “Where is the patient?”
She put the makeshift weapon down, and pointed to the man laying on the bed next to the fire.
“He’s there. Lord, please do not let this man die in my bed,” she said, her voice showing the deep sounds of age and sorrow wrought by years of hardship.
Dr. Matthews took off his coat and carefully approached the man on the bed. His leg was bent at an odd angle that made any movement impossible for Matthews to do on his own.
“My name is Dr. Matthews and I’m here to help you. Can you answer me?” he asked and received no response. But his experience in medicine did not allow him to worry yet. Dr. Matthews set his doctor bag down and pulled out a small set of scissors. He cut a slit in the man’s blood-stained trouser leg and then ripped it open to see what he already feared. The bone had broken the skin and this man was going to lose his leg. But hopefully, not his life.
Carefully, he touched the leather strap that was tightly tied around the man’s thigh, and turned to compliment the application of the tourniquet, and the man yelped in pain.
“Good, good, you are conscious Mr. . . .?” Dr. Matthews said, but the man glared at him and refused to answer. “Right, let’s call you by your name of origin then, Mr. Derby. Who performed the tourniquet?”
Dr. Matthews’ patient spat as he tried to sit up, and winced in pain.
“I did,” he said. “And you’ve ruined my clothes! You’ll pay for that, you will! My men will be here any minute to rescue me from this assault and kidnapping!”
“Calm down, Mr. Derby,” Dr. Matthews said, firmly, and pushed the man’s shoulder down. He could hear voices outside and dashed to the window, standing to the side of it, so he could get a better look and hear what was being said outside.
Seven men on horseback, armed with a variety of weapons stood with impatient horses stamping and threatening to overtake Mr. Darcy and Master Grant. The farmer’s son stood his ground next to Mr. Darcy, but without any weapons, there was nothing he could do. Darcy noticed the men did not appear to be soldiers or military types, as they wore labor-soiled clothes and shabby coats. The one in front was dressed slightly finer, and he assumed him to be the leader.
Mr. Darcy held his hands up and spoke in a clear voice: “I am Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley and in the name of the King’s law and order, I ask that you hear me out. My personal physician is inside treating your man, and if we do not act quickly, he will die,” he said, holding eye-contact with the man he assumed to be the leader .
A gruff voice called out from the line of horsemen.
“How do we know he ain’t already dead? And how do we know you’re Mr. Darcy?” a man with a nasty scar across his right cheek spoke up.
“Shut it,” the younger man in front said, allowing his horse to trot down the line and back up again, between Mr. Darcy and his comrades. He raised his hat that had half-hidden his face and Mr. Darcy smiled. It was Mr. Nagy, the steward of Lathom House who was once an under gardener at Pemberley until Darcy’s father paid for the lad’s education. “You think that’s Grant dressed up in clothes worth more than a year’s pay? That be Mr. Darcy, I know him. And we better listen to what he has to say until we can speak to his Lordship.”
Mr. Darcy nodded just as a great yell sounded from the barn and Mr. Grant came charging out of the building with his single gun raised, shouting for his son to step out of the way.
Born with more sense than his father, Josiah Grant stayed firm and told his father to stop.
“Mr. Darcy himself came! It’s safe!” Josiah yelled, waving his arms until Mr. Grant came to an abrupt halt just as the line of men on horses trained their pistols in his direction.
“Mr. Darcy, I fear you better speak quickly,” Mr. Nagy said, again telling the men to stand down.
The one with the scar on his face cocked his pistol, defying the order from Nagy.
“Baker! I said we would hear him out!” Nagy yelled and Mr. Baker grinned in a sickening manner. Nagy trotted his horse in front of the wayward behaving laborer and lowered his voice to a menacing tone. “Put your weapon away or you’ll be stretched by the neck noon tomorrow.”
After watching the men outside grow agitated, Dr. Matthews sighed a breath of relief as one-by-one they lowered their weapons. Dr. Matthews watched as Darcy talked them down from the tense standoff into accepting his help for their injured companion. He took that cue to open the farm house door.
His movement raised everyone’s fear once more, but Dr. Matthews raised his hands. “Dallman is his name?” he asked, and the man called Baker nodded. “I’m afraid he’s in rough shape. Clever man, he stopped his own bleeding. But I’m afraid he will have to lose his leg.”
“Lies!” Baker shouted, but the others in the line did not seem to be bellicose as Baker and murmured amongst themselves.
“Come inside and see for yourself,” Dr. Matthews said. “But I need Mr. Darcy to return to Pemberley for supplies.”
Baker dismounted from his horse, and Mr. Nagy quickly followed suit. Baker started making demands.
“We will take him back to Lathom House,” he demanded, and Dr. Matthews shook his head.
“If you move him that far you risk killing him. The bone has broken the skin.”
Many of the men winced at such news, except for Mr. Baker, Mr. Nagy, and Mr. Darcy.
Baker marched forward to the door and Dr. Matthews escorted him into the farm house. While the two men were gone, Mr. Darcy took the opportunity to approach Mr. Nagy for a private sidebar conversation.
Lowering his voice, so others did not hear, he proposed an idea. If Nagy would convince the other men to go home, he would take a message back to his Lordship immediately since he was already in residence at Pemberley. In exchange, Darcy would spare no expense on Mr. Dallman’s care or future needs, after consulting with the Earl of Derby.
“That might work, sir, but Baker and Dallman are close. I don’t believe I can convince him to leave,” Nagy said, choosing his words carefully.
“We will simply have to convince him, then.” Darcy said, just as Dr. Matthews and Mr. Baker exited the grant farmhouse.
Mr. Darcy noted that the pugnacious Baker appeared very pale and did not begin speaking first. He remain silent call Dr. Matthews wiped his brow.
“Mr. Dallman understands he has to lose his leg,” Dr. Mathews squinted up above at the sun. “We are running out of daylight hours and there are supplies I need from Pemberley. Mrs. Grant confirmed they do not have any laudanum, and I’ll also need all the clean cloth you can send. If you can spare Simmons, Darcy, his help would be most appreciated and he will know what to gather.”
“Aye, and a fine ale for my mate Dallman,” Baker added.
Mr. Darcy nodded and raised his eyebrow to Mr. Nagy. It was most convenient that he and Dr. Matthews thought so much alike. He didn’t bother to contradict Mr. Baker that a couple of drops of laudanum will go a lot further then a good ale.
“The other problem is where for Mr. Dallman to recuperate. He will need to remain at the Grant farm for at least a week. I can check on him daily,” Dr. Matthews said.
Mr. Grant spoke up and offered his hospitality. “I didn’t mean for him to fall off his horse, only to scare them off. Those are my fields!”
A chorus of shouts arose from Derby’s men on horseback and Mr. Darcy placed a hand on Mr. Grant’s shoulder to calm him while Mr. Nagy waved his hand to silence his bunch.
“I WILL be bringing this matter to his Lordship this afternoon, as soon as I return to Pemberley. In the meantime, I will tell each of you that Baslow Dale is under the regulation of the Darcy family and further encroachments onto my land will be met with force. I am confident, however, that the Earl and I can work out a peaceful solution,” Mr. Darcy said. He then pulled Dr. Matthews aside and spoke to him in a low voice.
“Are you certain you want me to leave you behind? You are outnumbered.”
Dr. Matthews laughed. “I trust Nagy. And Baker was the blustering one, but Dallman told him to let me fix his leg. Damned shame the man will be lame.” Matthews rubbed his hand over the back of his head, and squinted back up at the daylight. “Hurry and send back the supplies and Simmons. I will get these lads to help me move Dallman out here in the meantime.”
Darcy nodded and whistled for his carriage. The vehicle drove forward and the men on the horses could see there were no weapons in the arms of the coachmen and driver. A nervous chuckle rippled through the men and Mr. Darcy boarded his carriage without delay. He felt wrong leaving Matthews behind, but he reminded himself the man was a doctor and accustomed to treating all classes of people. With his needed skills, he would be safe. But just to be sure, Darcy would send Simmons with a set of armed guards from the household, just in case.
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 13 - The Heart of Marriage, Book 6 of the Moralities of Marriage, a Pride & Prejudice Variation
By the time Mr. Darcy returned to Pemberley, the greeting of guests had long ended. Instead of fetching the Earl of Derby, he went straight to his rooms to send his valet Simmons on the task of gathering supplies for Dr. Matthews. Along the way, he had to shake off the concerned inquiries of Mrs. Reynolds.
“Sir, are you alright? Where is Dr. Matthews?” she asked.
“A man was injured on Grant’s farm, a laborer. All is well. The young man was highly excitable,” Mr. Darcy said, hoping that would satisfy any others that would enquire. He couldn’t remember if Josiah Grant had revealed it was one of his Lordship’s men or not, and hoped that was information that was shared privately and not in the parlor.
Dashing up the stairs, he detoured to his wife’s suite, suddenly realizing how close he had come to death that afternoon! It was a blessing of Providence that Mr. Nagy had become the steward of Lathom House and rode with the posse recruited to avenge the fall of Dallman. He did not even wait to knock on the door and instead barged in.
Elizabeth Darcy stood in her gown for the evening with her maid hunched over the bottom, setting a hem adjustment. Mr. Darcy’s face was pale and his wife gasped in the shock at his appearance.
Higgins placed a pin in the cushion on her wrist, and rose silently to retreat to the dressing room. The alteration she was making to Mrs. Darcy’s gown was a minor one and if it wasn’t done in time for the ball, her mistress would still be as ravishing as ever.
“Fitzwilliam, you look as though you have seen a ghost,” Elizabeth said as he closed the door behind him.
“My love, I am well” he said quickly. “A man was injured on the Grant farm.”
“Is Dr. Matthews alright?” Elizabeth asked urgently, taking a step forward and reaching out for his hand.
Darcy tugged her toward him, wrapping his arms around her small waist and placing several kisses against her forehead. His heart was racing with the fear he had not felt during the standoff, but now in the presence of the love of his life who was expecting their first child, the risk to his health played foremost in his mind.
He dropped to his knees and placed two protective hands around his wife’s prominent midsection, and closed his eyes.
“Is Dr. Matthews alright?” Elizabeth asked again, and when her husband did not move, she raised her voice. “Fitzwilliam, what senseless adventure have you two had this time?” she asked, trying to keep her voice in a comical tone, but failing to keep at bay her righteous anger at her husband’s penchant for dangerous deeds.
Mr. Darcy rose from his kneeling position and held up a hand. He quickly explained that Dr. Matthews was well, but he needed to send Simmons and supplies back to the farm. Once he did that, he would answer all of her questions about Baslow Dale and why Dr. Matthews was left alone.
“If Simmons is gone, who will dress you for this evening?” she asked, following him as he made for the adjoining door between their suites.
Flashing her the roguish smile she could never resist, he reminded her that they had under-servants for a reason.
“Everyone here has a redundancy, and you are growing ours as we speak,” he said, with a laugh and pecking her cheek. He felt immensely guilty in behaving so very maudlin before her and making her worry more.
Huffing in frustration, Elizabeth called Higgins back and stepped back to the area by the sewing supplies. Her maid dutifully began her work again, and Elizabeth began her vent.
“That man! When he came in here, he looked as though he might suffer an apoplexy any moment! And then tries to laugh it all off that Dr. Matthews is stuck at the Grant Farm and nothing is amiss.!” she said, in a forceful tone and stomped her right foot.
Higgins quickly pulled back just before the foot stomp and then lifted the edge of the fine silk gown back into her fingers. “Yes ma’am, he did not seem himself when he walked in.”
“Thank you for noticing, though I’m certain if he knew, that would be another lecture to me about how the servants aren’t supposed to do this or that,” she said. Then realizing how selfish that sounded she looked down and apologized. “Forgive me, I am very grateful for the work all of you do. You and Simmons take very good care of us.”
Higgins gave a small smile and picked up another pin from the cushion to hold the last of the train adjustment in place.
“There ma’am, please give that a walk and see if it suits you better?” she asked.
Elizabeth began to pace and hopped up and down, then took a quick turn as she mimed dancing in a set downstairs. She clapped her hands, giddy that she was to finally dance with her husband at that evening’s ball.
“Splendid, splendid. I know a longer train is more in fashion,” she said, walking over to the mirror and fretting slightly at how very large her stomach was becoming. She turned to each side to see how far it protruded and smoothed the fabric panel that had been adjusted last week to accommodate her new girth measurement. “But if I am to dance with this new body of mine, the last thing I need is a tripping hazard,” she finished.
Quickly, Higgins helped her remove her gown and slip into her silk robe, tying the garment tightly just above her belly. Then the maid asked for permission to run the gown down to the team of seamstresses now employed at Pemberley since the Darcys returned home and filled the house with Elizabeth’s sisters. Each woman had their own personal maid, but the amount of laundry, new clothing and repairs to old clothing that had to be done soon outstretched the work of just a maid. They had made some use of the shops in Lambton, but the village of Pemberley was back on the rise and growing again.
“Certainly, and if I need anything, remember, I dressed myself for most of my adult life. I can manage,” Elizabeth said, reminding her maid she was still the same woman who grew up in Hertfordshire.
Higgins nodded. “Yes ma’am, but I would be remiss if I did not remind you that another maid is always awaiting your needs, by the pull chord. Mrs. Reynolds will accuse me of keeping you all to myself,” Betsy Higgins said, with a bit of cheekiness that she and Elizabeth exchanged in the rarest moments, only when they were alone. A maid-for-hire once in the Netherfield Park household, the day Elizabeth Bennet insisted that her personal maid come with her had been the start of Betsy Higgins’ adult life. She had leap-frogged a decade or more of service in a household to become the lady’s maid of one of the wealthiest women of the Ton.
Once her maid left her, Elizabeth scurried over the adjoining door between her suite and her husband’s. She reached up to knock, and then pursed her lips and decided to return to Fitzwilliam the same courtesy he afforded her. She pulled the latch down and entered into his dressing chamber that aligned with hers as the space between the two expansive rooms. She wondered if once upon a time, there was not two dressing rooms in this space, side-by-side, if one was to look at the layout from above, but another bed chamber. Shrugging, she could hear voices on the other side and suspected her husband was taking a bath in bathing rooms built next to their respective dressing rooms. As she waited on the other side of the door, she paused a moment to listen:
“When you’ve finished at Grant’s, you and Dr. Matthews hurry back. Leave two armed guards behind for the protection of the Grant family, but do not allow him or your courage to make you stay,” a voice that sounded very much like her husband’s said.
Elizabeth could not hear the response given, but she gasped at the mention of armed guards. No wonder her husband had looked like a ghost! It sounded as though she was lucky he wasn’t one!
Making a decision, Elizabeth retreated from the door. If the situation at the Grant Farm were as dire as sending armed guards, then Elizabeth had to think. Dashing back to her suite, she pulled the bell chord and asked for Mrs. Reynolds to come to her on a most urgent manner. The young maid who responded agreed and sent for the housekeeper.
Agitated, Elizabeth tried to think of what she knew about the Grants and then scolded herself for not taking the baskets to the tenants. If she had, she would remember where the Grant Farm was situated, and perhaps understand what might have happened. She certainly did not expect Fitzwilliam to give her all of the details, nor did she want to interfere with the situation she assumed he was diffusing.
Within the quarter hour, Mrs. Reynolds arrived to find her mistress doing her best to rub a hole in the elegant Persian rug on the floor with her pacing.
“Yes ma’am, you sent for me? The cold meats are served for our guests downstairs and Cook has assured me that preparations for supper are on time. The musicians have arrived and the ballroom is nearly ready.”
Elizabeth stopped her pacing and waved her hand as though she was swatting away a flying pest. “Thank you, that is wonderful to hear. What can you tell me about the tenants the Grants?” she asked, driving straight to the point of what she wanted to know.
Mrs. Reynolds glanced to the door that connected the Master and Mistress suites. “I’m not sure what you mean, ma’am.”
Elizabeth followed her housekeepers line of sight and stepped forward so that she blocked Mrs. Reynolds’ view of the door. “Please, Mrs. Reynolds, I must know what you know. My husband left in such a hurry and I overheard him say something about armed guards. What has happened?” Elizabeth said pleadingly, her eyes boring into the housekeepers as she begged for answers.
“Armed guards? It’s been ages since such measures were needed!” Mrs. Reynolds exclaimed, and Elizabeth frowned. The housekeeper pulled out a chair for her mistress and encouraged her to sit down.
To be polite, Elizabeth motioned for her housekeeper to do the same, just as she had when she first interviewed with Mrs. Reynolds before she was married.
It was customary for estates such as Pemberley to have several families who leased land from them in order to farm it and provide food and other supplies to the estate in exchange for room and board, among other things. The system had worked well for centuries now and was something both Darcys were quite proud of continuing on their property. Mrs. Reynolds began to explain how the situation with the Grant family was an anomaly.
“The Grants are one of our longest tenants on the Darcy estate,” she began quietly as though concerned about being overheard by someone other than Elizabeth. “They’ve been tenant farmers for multiple generations now. But their farm is in Baslow Dale, a disputed piece of land with his Lordship the Earl of Derby.”
Elizabeth began to understand what kind of crisis might have occurred once she heard that. “How disputed?”
Mrs. Reynold’s grimaced. “It was settled between Old Mr. Darcy and the previous Earl, but the current Earl always claimed his father had been taken advantage of and started threatening to take the matter to the King’s Court. But then Old Mr. Darcy struck another deal, and all was well, until today . . .” she said, reaching for the watch fob she kept on a chain. “Heavens me, Mrs. Darcy, but if you will excuse me, there is still much I must see done,” the housekeeper asked.
Elizabeth thanked Mrs. Reynolds and agreed for her to return to her duties. Before she left, Elizabeth told Mrs. Reynolds to have the staff aid Mr. Simmons in anything he needed with few questions asked. The housekeeper touched the side of her nose and promised a report back to her mistress. Elizabeth smiled and touched her nose just the same, finally feeling as though she had the loyalty of the woman she needed most to be a success as Fitzwilliam’s wife.
Her interview with the housekeeper over and nothing to do but rest until it was time to change or her husband came to speak with her, Elizabeth yawned and eyed her bed. She would never admit to Fitzwilliam that she was tired, but the past couple of days of preparing the house for all of the guests and then greeting them that morning had exhausted her. She had not fully taken a rest earlier because her gown needed an adjustment. But now that she had possibly an hour or two to herself, she pulled back the curtains to her bed and laid down, willing herself to remain calm. In time, she would support her husband in whatever way he needed.
You’ve been reading The Heart of Marriage.
Coming soon to stores.
Book 6 of the Moralities of Marriage Series.
The final book of the Moralities of Marriage Series sees Mr. and Mrs. Darcy fighting off scandal and family strife once and for all. Mr. Darcy is summoned to London to provide answers for Mr. Wickham’s crimes. Too many of High Society were hoodwinked by the mining scheme, and outside forces would relish plundering the Darcy coffers to compensate for their losses.
At Pemberley, Elizabeth is set on establishing herself as Mistress of the House, no matter what her mother believes. As the house goes into mourning for Mr. Darcy’s aunt, her sisters are despondent that the yuletide ball is cancelled. Especially when none of them knew the woman! The Bingleys try to distract the younger sisters by enlisting their aid in finding a home of their own.
The old scores of his parents’ generation keep Darcy in London longer than he planned. Not even his cousin is immune to the costs of past treacheries. Despite the machinations of Marlborough and Derby, Fitzwilliam is desperate to get home and see the birth of his first child.
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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.