From the Author
Thank you, Maria Grazia, for the wonderful opportunity to visit My Jane Austen Book Club. I’m excited to share an excerpt from my newest release, Once He Made a Beginning, and connect with fellow historical romance enthusiasts.
For those unfamiliar with my work, I love reimagining Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, crafting new and captivating adventures for Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet. With nearly fifty titles in my growing catalog, I’m always eager to explore fresh narratives that stay true to the heart of these beloved characters.
Once He Made a Beginning originated as my 2022 National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) project. Though it encountered its fair share of stops and starts, I am thrilled that it is now complete.
I have included a passage below from Chapter 1 that gives a glimpse of the twists and turns ahead—the drama, tension, and vulnerability that await. Happy reading!
P.O. Dixon
About the Book
Once He Made a Beginning
Following his ill-fated proposal at Hunsford, Fitzwilliam Darcy suffers a tragic accident that alters the course of his life. Struggling with concern, unresolved feelings, and a measure of guilt, Elizabeth Bennet feels bound to remain by his side during his recovery. Could this be fate offering them a second chance, or are some wounds too deep to heal?
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About the Author
P. O. Dixon is a bestselling author known for her captivating historical romances that reimagine the beloved characters from Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. With a catalog of nearly 50 titles, Dixon’s works are celebrated for their rich storytelling, historical accuracy, and romantic intrigue, delighting readers worldwide. Her ardent appreciation of Jane Austen’s timeless works set her on the writer’s journey—swapping boardrooms for ballrooms and never looking back.
Excerpt
(Reprinted with Author’s Permission. All Rights Reserved.)
Chapter 1
Kent, England – Spring 1812
Fitzwilliam Darcy, of Pemberley in Derbyshire. Those who truly knew the gentleman spoke of him as the finest landlord and master, quite unlike some young men who were restless and thought only of themselves. There was not one of his tenants or servants that would not give him a good name. He was fiercely loyal. So long as it was within his power, there was nothing he would not do for those closest to him. Any young woman would be fortunate indeed to have his love and devotion.
That is to say, any rational young woman. But, judging by Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s behavior that evening, she was far from rational. Indeed, she was her own worst enemy.
The parsonage walls flew by in a blur as Darcy stormed out of the front door, slamming it behind him. With his heart shattered, he stomped onto the stone path and across the lawn. He mounted his horse and set off through the park veiled in darkness. An empty feeling of despair took root in his stomach. His heart racing—his mind a jumble of disbelief and regret.
The moon and stars hidden behind blankets of clouds left him blind to whatever perils lay ahead as his anger choked back his disbelief, urging him faster into the dark night.
The way Elizabeth had looked at him, her eyes cold and accusatory, would no doubt haunt him until the day he died.
“I had not known you for a month before realizing you were the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”
Elizabeth had spoken with a coldness that could have destroyed him had he been a lesser man.
I cannot believe it. She hates me. Her mind has been poisoned against me from almost the first moment of our acquaintance. I was utterly oblivious to her disdain. Foolishly supposing I had ingratiated myself with her these past days in Kent, more than compensating for my feigned indifference all those weeks in Hertfordshire—all in vain. But no, nothing I could have said or done would have been enough for her to forgive me for imagined slights and the perceived blow to her pride.
Darcy tried remembering the worst things she had said to him, and his anger flared up again. It was hard not to wince when he remembered how she had shaken her head at him like a mother reprimanding a child for his foolishness.
He could not believe that he had been so blind. How could he have misunderstood her so completely? He cursed himself for his obtuseness and failure to understand this before it was too late.
She yelled at me. She called me arrogant, rude, and insulting. But I am none of those things. I am a gentleman and only have the best of intentions. The problem is that I was too honest... too straightforward, and she took offense. I only attempted to be earnest in expressing my feelings for her.
Her family is beneath mine in rank and fortune. Was I wrong in pointing out the obvious? But even so, I do not love her for her fortune or social standing. I love her because she is the most charming, intelligent, and witty woman I have ever met. At least, I thought she was all those things. How could I have been so mistaken about her character?
I am such a fool, thinking I could make her happy. I thought my wealth and stature would impress her. If I had known she hated me so much, I would never have courted her so ardently during our time here in Kent. I surely would not have given my cousin the strongest hint about my intentions toward her. Not only did I suggest as much to the colonel but to Anne as well. What will either of them think upon learning what a fool I have been?
Time swept by, and Darcy rode on with no thought of where he was going. With luck, the Rosings household would be settled by the time he returned, and he would be spared the questioning eyes of his cousin Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, who could not doubt where Darcy had gone that evening and his reason for doing so.
Darcy had all but rushed out of the room when the Collinses arrived at Rosings, disappointed that Elizabeth was not with them as he had hoped. He was so eager to see her, to tell her how he loved her, and to offer her his hand in marriage. Now, he honestly wondered if he ever wanted to see her again. How easy it would be to return to London and pretend the past weeks in Kent never even happened.
On the other hand, his character simply could not abide his being so misunderstood, especially by the woman he had fancied himself in love with. Not that he would dare repeat the assertions she had found so distasteful and unpleasant. Still, he supposed some rebuttal to her misguided accusations against him was in order. Especially as it regarded that foul George Wickham, Darcy’s former friend and current nemesis. By not refuting whatever falsehoods Wickham had accused him of, Darcy felt as though the scoundrel had somehow won. That would never do.
Thus resolved, Darcy steered his horse around and headed to Rosings Park. He would write to Elizabeth and give his own account of things. Steady to his purpose, he composed the letter in his head, mulling over every minute detail.
Hours later, he laid his pen aside. Then, before folding the missive, he revisited his concluding sentiments:
“You may possibly wonder why all this was not told you last night, but I was not then master enough of myself to know what could or ought to be revealed. For the truth of everything here related, I can appeal more particularly to the testimony of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who, from our near relationship and constant intimacy, and, still more, as one of the executors of my father’s will, has been unavoidably acquainted with every particular of these transactions. If your abhorrence of me should make my assertions valueless, you cannot be prevented by the same cause from confiding in my cousin, and that there may be the possibility of consulting him, I shall endeavor to find some opportunity of putting this letter in your hands in the course of the morning. I will only add, God bless you.
“FITZWILLIAM DARCY”
Sealing the missive, Darcy shuddered at the memory of Elizabeth’s words. Did he dare share such intimate details of his life with someone who despised him as she did?
It is not as though the letter contains any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers that were so disgusting to her, Darcy reasoned. I wrote without any intention of paining her or humbling myself by dwelling on wishes which cannot be forgotten too soon. Any inconvenience she may be occasioned by receiving and reading this letter must be pardoned for my character required it to be written.
Though it was early in the morning, Darcy was wide awake. He walked over to a window and drew back the heavy curtain to reveal the landscape shrouded in darkness. It will be some time yet before the sun rises, he considered. If all goes according to plan, soon enough, she and I will be standing face to face.
He planned to put the missive in Elizabeth’s hand despite the doubts plaguing his busy mind. Meanwhile, Darcy set off on a strenuous ride through the countryside to take his mind off Elizabeth, the letter, and what she might say or do.
In much the same fashion as he had ridden the night before, Darcy rode his horse with wild abandon. Without warning, the horse lurched beneath him. Then it stumbled and fell, sending Darcy tumbling over its head. He rolled down a hillside, his head smacking against rocks and roots. His lungs emptied as he lay at the bottom of a gulch, stunned and gasping for air. His horse, having recovered, galloped away over the fields.
Darcy struggled to sit up; his head spun, and his body ached. He tried to call out for help, but no words came out. Blood trickled down his forehead. He could feel the warmth of it dripping into his eyes.
Slowly, he pulled himself up onto his knees and hands and began making his way up the hillside. His arms trembled from the effort, and it was all he could do just to move an inch at a time. Visions of Miss Elizabeth’s face flashed through his mind: her anger, her disdain.
With a last burst of strength, Darcy made it up the hill and onto the path. He collapsed onto his back, his chest heaving as he fought to regain control of his breath. But it was no use. Darcy succumbed to sleep—his dreams filled with visions of Elizabeth, her countenance twisted in scorn and rage as she turned away from him for good. Before long, darkness overtook him.
