Hello, Readers! I am delighted to share my new release, The Guardian Gambit, a mash-up of Pride & Prejudice + Emma that is inspired by The Parent Trap – it’s a wild ride!
The story begins with Elizabeth Bennet and Jane Fairfax discovering they are identical twins when they meet for the first time just before their 21st birthday. With the encouragement of their intrigue-loving aunt – Mr. Gardiner’s widow, now known as Lady Gresham – the twins exchange places and scheme to reunite their parents, Elizabeth’s “guardian” Mr. Bennet and Jane’s “aunt” Miss Bates.
Jane travels to Netherfield, home of the much wealthier Mr. Bennet, and is ready to bond with her father while pretending to be Elizabeth – only to face a terrible shock when she finds him engaged to a fortune hunter!
Meanwhile, Elizabeth masquerades as Jane when she goes to stay with her mother and Grandmother at the Bates cottage. She also faces an unpleasant surprise – Highbury’s newest neighbor has brought a very rude and brooding friend with him, and he instantly suspects that Elizabeth is up to no good!
The excerpt I’m sharing today is Mr. Darcy’s first impression of Elizabeth – when he believes her to be Jane Fairfax….
Fitzwilliam Darcy had never been so uncomfortable in all his life. The presence of so many squawking, frolicking children was not something he had ever been accustomed to, and at present they were as much a reminder of his sister’s recent ordeal as all this talk of seaside holidays. Sending his sister to Ramsgate the previous summer had been the greatest mistake of his life, and nearly a year later Georgiana still felt the consequences of her time in Ramsgate, and her tryst with their erstwhile friend Mr. Wickham.
Amidst the noise of the Knightley children and the chatter of so many people all clustered together taking tea, Darcy felt himself utterly adrift. He had come to Surrey to clear his head after failing to reconcile with his sister, but he could hardly keep a clear head with so many new acquaintance thrust on him at once.
At present, Bingley was little help. The man had been in a panic when Knightley suggested they accompany him on a visit to Hartfield, for Miss Woodhouse had just the day before declined an invitation from him. Of course, this was the price to be paid for their reprieve from Caroline Bingley – there was no hostess in residence to make an afternoon tea respectable. Bingley had forfeited that convenience for Darcy’s sake, though her presence would not have been comfortable for anybody, not after Darcy had recently reached the end of his patience with Caroline Bingley and informed her that he had no intention of ever making her an offer.
Though Knightley had assured them of the Woodhouses being excellent people, Miss Woodhouse did not receive Mr. Bingley with any particular interest. As usual, she took a good look at each of them before selecting Darcy as her object, and far from being daunted by his lack of encouragement, she was spurred on by Bingley’s easy enthusiasm for Miss Fairfax.
Her circumstances were not as suitable as Miss Woodhouse’s, and the though two were both fair and pretty, Miss Fairfax possessed a glint of intelligence in her eye, and something thrilling in her air, as if she had just lately blossomed. Even Knightley, who had known the young lady all her life, seemed to be regarding her as if seeing her for the first time.
Darcy was fascinated as he watched Miss Fairfax speak with his friend. She was holding her own with Bingley, who could often render it impossible to get a word in when he grew excited about a subject. Miss Fairfax had a great deal to say, but she seemed inexplicably prone to abruptly falling silent, as if wishing to give an impression of diffidence she did not possess.
Knightley was obliged to bear a great deal of conversation from Miss Fairfax’s aunt, who supplied such a steady stream of unrelated observations that Knightley could scarcely reply to one before being assaulted with three more. Miss Bates did have a sincere and pleasing affection for her niece and her mother, and while the latter remained silent, she often called upon the former to agree with her. Miss Fairfax merely ignored her aunt at every turn.
To Darcy’s dismay, Miss Woodhouse only ceased her attempts to fascinate him in order to have her share of the conversation about Weymouth, and even Miss Bates had a great deal to say on the subject. Darcy would rather have heard more about dancing at Mr. Weston’s party than the seaside, so dismal was the subject to him, but he was granted no reprieve.
Once again, Miss Bates was obliged to repeat Miss Fairfax’s name several times before gaining the young lady’s attention. “Jane. Jane! JANE, DEAREST!”
Miss Fairfax seemed to rouse herself from her enigmatic private reverie, and she turned to lay a hand on her aunt’s arm. “Yes, m-ma’am?”
“I was telling Miss Woodhouse how strange it is that you should encounter Mr. Frank Churchill in Weymouth.”
“I travel often enough with the Campbells that I am sure to have one or two coincidental encounters some place or other,” Miss Fairfax replied. She smiled brightly, but in her eyes there was a glimpse of discomfiture.
“Very true, my dear, very true, though it ought to have been far likelier you would encounter him here in Highbury, since you both have some connection to the place. But I suppose it is hardly the most shocking thing you told me of your time in Weymouth.”
Miss Woodhouse looked at Miss Fairfax with interest. “Miss Fairfax, how obliging of you to have so many shocking things to regale us with, when generally the details of your travels are all so very regular. But I should like to hear anything you might tell me of Mr. Frank Churchill, especially if it is shocking!”
Miss Fairfax scowled, but had not the chance to reply before her aunt was talking again. “Oh, but I refer to the incident with Mr. Dixon.”
Miss Woodhouse grinned wolfishly. “An incident, you say? Better and better!”
“Not quite,” Miss Fairfax drawled.
“Oh! I am sure I cried out and frightened the wits out of poor Mother when I read of it,” Miss Bates wailed. “I shall never go near the sea without horror – not that I ever had any intention of going to the seaside – but certainly I should never wish to be on a boat!”
Miss Fairfax gave a tight smile before putting Darcy out of his misery by interrupting her aunt. “As pleasant as it is to entertain you, Miss Woodhouse, I should rather achieve that distinction without such great peril. But as the peril is quite in the past, I may as well inform you of my tremendous dismay at being swept overboard during a boating excursion. Mr. Dixon acted with alacrity….”
Darcy sat up straighter, leaning his head toward the comely young lady as he found his interest piqued at last. Miss Fairfax looked as if she had quite a tale to tell, but her aunt cut her off. “But was it not your friend that was swept overboard? I have not the letter with me, but I am sure you wrote that it was some friend of yours – I cannot recall her name, or perhaps you did not say – no indeed – pray, do not say it was yourself nearly lost to sea, else I am sure I shall never recover!”
Miss Fairfax furrowed her brow for a moment, her mouth hanging agape and forming a rather charming O, and then she again rested a hand on her aunt’s arm to silence the babbling spinster. “Yes, that is what I meant – my dismay at my friend being swept overboard.”
Darcy might have doubted that sense of panic he perceived in Miss Fairfax’s demeanor, but Miss Woodhouse must have noticed it, as well. She leaned forward with interest. “What friend?”
Miss Fairfax looked over at her aunt with wide eyes. “Oh, ah… Fanny….”
Miss Bates fairly squawked in astonishment. “Have you a friend with my name? How very odd!”
“No – ah – Fran – Franny. Yes, Franny – yes, I am sure I have mentioned her,” Miss Fairfax said with a nervous laugh before silently muttering what appeared to Darcy to be a few very vulgar words under her breath as she attempted to regain her equanimity. She stared, red-faced, down at the carpet, her hands disappearing into the folds of her gown. “Franny was swept overboard, but Mr. Dixon very bravely rescued her. That is all, really, but I had quite a fright.”
Darcy had always prided himself on his superior discernment, and presently he discerned two things with absolute certainty. The first was that Miss Fairfax was telling only a half-truth, and the second was that she was not at all a well-practiced liar.
Darcy resolved to be on his guard, and certainly he ought to advise his friend against favoring Miss Fairfax over Miss Woodhouse. The latter may prove a snob toward Bingley’s origins, but she may yet be won over by his manners. Miss Fairfax, on the other hand, would not have been a good connection even if she had not a strange air of deceit about her. She did not fawn over Bingley as other fortune hunters were wont to do, but perhaps it was some manner of art and allurement designed to engage him in chasing her. Bingley was a good man, but just fool enough for such mercenary practices.
It was for this reason alone, Darcy told himself, that he watched Miss Fairfax closely for the duration of the visit. He could not deny that it was far from a punishment to look at her, but her beauty only presented a greater danger.
Darcy decided it best to warn his friend at once, as they walked back to Bingley’s nameless manor. They had stayed far longer than intended, certainly longer than was polite, and Darcy suspected they had rather strained the patience of their hostess.
Bingley’s praise of everyone they had met soon focused on Miss Fairfax in particular, and he listed her manifold attractions, betraying his own superficial whimsy, just as he had half a dozen times before. His newest angel had even put forth a suggestion that Bingley draw a name for his manor from poetry, and now the besotted fool was determined to call on Knightley on the morrow and scour the man’s superior library for inspiration.
“What do you know of Miss Fairfax’s circumstances, Bingley? Knightley gave me the distinct impression that Miss Woodhouse is the superior creature between the two young ladies.”
“That is only because he has seen more of Miss Woodhouse, I should imagine. Miss Fairfax travels a great deal, which I think is very intrepid of her. I ought to travel more, you know; I have heaps of money.”
Darcy raised his brow at the notion of Bingley traipsing about the continent, leaving a trail of brokenhearted blonde angels in his wake. “Miss Woodhouse is the sort of young lady your sisters may approve of,” Darcy said, and then immediately winced. This was hardly a sterling recommendation.
Bingley laughed. “She is richer than Miss Fairfax, if that is what you mean. Oh, she is not unpleasant, by any means. I have forgiven her for refusing to come to tea, since Knightley thinks I ought to have a chaperone. Perhaps he is right – I could ask Louisa, and surely with Caroline now engaged, you would be perfectly safe from… any awkwardness.”
Awkwardness followed Darcy more faithfully than his own shadow. He shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. “I cannot deny there would be some expedience in having one of your sisters to keep house for you, if you wish to throw parties and dinners and the like. I only wish to advise you not to immediately single one young lady out above the others. We know very little of Miss Fairfax and her family.”
“I know that she is an orphan – not like you and I, for her parents died when she was a baby, how utterly tragic! But she travels a great deal with a family called the Campbells, who sounds perfectly respectable. And she is incomparably dutiful to her relations, for Miss Woodhouse was astonished that Miss Fairfax had come to visit Highbury when she might have gone to Ireland with her friends. That must signify an excellent character and fine morals, for I know I should choose Ireland over my relations! Ha! A hundred times over, I swear it!”
Darcy considered this, but it only heightened the strange surety he felt that the young lady had something to hide.
“Besides,” Bingley cajoled him, “I am sure Knightley’s praise of Miss Woodhouse was so generous that he must be in love with her himself, and I could hardly compete with a man who possesses such a superior library.”
Darcy only shook his head as Bingley gave in to wild hilarity. When Bingley finished laughing, he said, “Darcy, I shall be serious soon, I promise, but I wish you would not always be so. Someday, my friend, a pretty girl will catch your eye, and then I imagine all hell shall break loose.”
“Certainly not,” Darcy said at once. He had never given much thought to marriage, but he supposed that he would eventually select a suitable young lady of good breeding, tolerable appearance, and considerable accomplishment, who would give him an heir and a spare and, hopefully, a peaceful home life. But happiness in marriage, he knew all too well, was entirely a matter of chance. He would no more rush into such a risky endeavor than he would allow his friend to do so. Hell, he hoped, would not factor into their futures, as it had for his parents.
“Well, if you have no further objections to Miss Fairfax than the newness of our acquaintance, and I have not completely decided against Miss Woodhouse, then I suppose I shall have to write to my sisters,” Bingley said. “Caroline has not yet set a date for her wedding, so perhaps she can spare Louisa for a few weeks.”
Darcy was uneasy, but he acknowledged that it was a necessary evil. He might yet hope that only the Hursts would be summoned, and not Miss Bingley. He would not be easy around the harpy until she was actually another man's wife, and even then he might remain wary. It was fortunate, at least, that her betrothed was reputed to despise London; she would be kept in the country, unable to pester Darcy with her desperation.
“I suppose it is the only option,” Darcy said. But he certainly had no wish for his friend to be filling the manor with guests, especially not a particular guest with a beguiling smile and a musical laugh, whose blue eyes were full of secrets.
JAYNE BAMBER
check The Guardian Gambit on Amazon.com
