A native of the Atlanta area, I am a long time fan of the writings of Jane Austen. When I first read her novels, she spoke to my soul. Her language of romance opens up my heart. Writing makes my wings take flight as I soar with the Red-Tailed Hawk that lives on my lake, here on my little piece of paradise in the deep South. Share An Austen Adventure with me...
If you have any questions, or would like to comment on any of my work please feel free to comment after any post via the link provided. Or you can email me at firstname.lastname@example.org
January 17th, 2012
December 23rd, 2011
December 23rd, 2011
December 20th, 2011
December 16th, 2011
It is entirely possible that the only reason you are reading this post is because you saw the words giveaway. And yes I am going to give away a copy of ‘Fitzwilliam Ebenezer Darcy’ for a comment to a question I will ask at the end of this post. If you are however, beginning to wonder the reason I ask such a question I will tell you that this week I have been working in New York City. I knew before I left home on this business trip that the JASNA-NY had already had their Jane Austen tea and I would not have such an event to attend. It wasn’t till after my last appointment for today that I found myself headed to the new 9/11 Memorial and the Tribute Center. So how are the two alike? I actually came up with something quite significant. Both Jane Austen and the city of New York and the families of 9/11 victims are overcomers. Jane did not let the loss of her true love end her life. Instead she used her experience to create tales that inspired countless readers to look overcome their character defects and change in order to find happiness. Today I was quite inspired today to learn of how victims families are using their tragedies to change their lives and the lives of others for the good. The writings of Jans Austen contine to inspire me to rise above my self centered pride and look at others without judgement. This inspiration not only makes me happier but a better person. Thank you, Jane. And Happy Birthday! How has or what has Jane Austen and her novels inspired in you? Enter your answer for a chance to win a autographed copy of my new book. Open internationally. Drawing will be held on Monday, the 19th at 10 am.
December 15th, 2011
December 15th, 2011
December 14th, 2011
December 14th, 2011
December 13th, 2011
December 7th, 2011
Part 2 in the series of interviews that Elizabeth Darcy does of Barbara Tiller Cole.
November 26th, 2011
What did it matter; it was just a little white lie? I never thought it would get so out of hand. It seemed simple enough, as I did not choose to have a confrontation in a ballroom.
Elizabeth continued to contemplate the events during the ball at Netherfield that had so changed her life. I thought that I hated Mr. Darcy then! He had caught me off guard. When he asked me to dance, saying no would have meant that I would have had to sit out the remainder of the evening; so I said yes.
The dance started out simply; but Elizabeth’s impertinence got the bet- ter of her. “We must have some conversation, Mr. Darcy.”
He responded with a raised eyebrow, “Do you talk as a rule while dancing?” They traded small talk when they came together in the dance.
Mr. Darcy asked, “Do you often walk to Meryton?” This led to a brief discussion of Mr. Wickham. Elizabeth was disappointed that Mr. Wickham did not attend the ball, and she was sure that Mr. Darcy had something to do with it. The more they talked, the angrier Elizabeth became. Suddenly she knew that she could not dance the second of the set with him. Her creative thoughts concocted a plan of escape, but her impulsivity did not achieve her intended outcome.
Elizabeth faked a sprained ankle in order to quit the ballroom. She never, ever, thought that Mr. Darcy would follow her as she hobbled away; yet follow he did.
As Elizabeth entered the Netherfield library, Mr. Darcy caught up with her. Guiding her to a chair near the fire, he asked, “Miss Bennet, please let me help you sit down. Can I get you anything? May I get you some ice for your ankle? Or would a glass of wine help, perhaps?”
“No, Mr. Darcy. I assure you that I am quite all right. I just need to sit quietly. Please feel free to return to the ballroom, sir.” But leave he did not. She contemplated why he did not recognize her desire to be rid of him.
“Are you sure that it is just a sprain and not a break? Let me see,” he asked. With that he picked up her foot, took off her shoe, and examined her ankle moving her foot back and forth. Remembering the event, Elizabeth was sure he did not think of the impropriety of his actions at the time. She remembered the sensation when his bare hands first touched her foot. It was like warm water soothing it. The heat began in her foot, and shot all the way up to her cheeks within seconds.
Elizabeth was an innocent; the feelings she experienced were quite confusing. Mr. Darcy obviously felt something as well, as his eyes turned to Elizabeth in that same moment, and he said, “Ah, Miss Bennet, I believe your ankle is going to be fine…”
They glanced at each other tentatively. Elizabeth’s glance more so than Mr. Darcy’s, however. Mr. Darcy looked again at Elizabeth, and this time his eyes did not leave her face. Nor did he release her foot, but began to rub it. “While you rest your ankle for a few minutes, Miss Bennet, would you allow me to speak to you of Mr. Wickham, now that we are away from the others?”
“What? Ah,you may speak Mr.Darcy,” she was distracted and breathless by his touch. Elizabeth was shocked, but could not help enjoying it; amazed that he did not seem to realize what he was doing. As he continued to rub her foot, she did not stop him. It felt too good.
Darcy told Elizabeth of his relationship with Mr. Wickham. “Miss Bennet, Mr. Wickham was the son of my late father’s steward…”
Darcy continued to tell her of the history the Darcy family had with old Mr. Wickham. Darcy’s father had trusted his steward, George’s father, and depended on him. His father had been the godfather of the younger Mr. Wickham. He had supported him through Cambridge, intent on providing him a living as the rector at Kympton. After Darcy’s father passed,George Wickham had requested and was given three thousand pounds in exchange for the living, along with the one thousand pounds designated in the will.
Darcy spoke of George Wickham’s habits and of him returning to demand the living when his funds ran low. His discourse culminated with the story of Wickham’s attempted elopement with Georgiana.
As Darcy’s story concluded, Elizabeth found that she could no longer stop her tears. She had always prided herself on her ability to judge char- acter. Realizing how wrong she was disturbed and humbled her. Oh what must he think of me!
With her embarrassment over her mistaking the nature and quality of both men, she responded, “Oh, Mr. Darcy, I believe I never knew myself. I have always prided myself in my ability to judge character. I could not have been more wrong. What must you think of me?”
“Miss Bennet, you must not blame yourself. Mr. Wickham appears all ease and friendliness; but he has fooled a great many people, including my father. Please do not cry. Mr. Wickham is not worth your pain,” Darcy answered.
He stopped rubbing her foot long enough to pull out his handkerchief and hand it to her. She wiped her eyes, then stood and walked to the window and looked out. In her distracted state, she had forgotten her ankle was supposed to be sprained.
Mr. Darcy walked up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. She turned around as he spoke to her in a surprised tone, “Ah, Miss Bennet your ankle seems to have healed.”
She turned around to look him in the eyes. She was mortified. Her cheeks glowed bright red as she quickly dropped her eyes to the floor. “Mr. Darcy, I am quite embarrassed; I told you a white lie, sir. I just needed to get away, and only pretended to sprain my ankle. I am very sorry, sir. I truly have misjudged your character.” With much more courage than she actually felt at the time, she turned her eyes towards him and said, “Can you ever forgive me for deceiving you?”
Mr. Darcy picked up her hand and looked deeply into her eyes. He had often noticed Elizabeth’s fine eyes, but this was the first time that Elizabeth had ever noticed how expressive his eyes were. They were rich, dark ebony pools, and they captured her. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.
As Darcy’s lips touched her hand, a sensation like a lightning bolt flew through her body, and her heart began to race. Darcy did not release her hand; and as he held it tenderly, he said in a voice as soft and warm as an embrace, “Miss Bennet, I am more than willing to forgive you, if you can find it within your heart to forgive my unthinkable and absolutely untrue comment. I believe you overheard a remark I most assuredly did not mean on the first night of our acquaintance. I should have asked for your forgiveness quite some time ago.”
Her cheeks coloured again, and it was obvious to Darcy that she remembered the comment to which he referred. She found that she could not help herself. She locked eyes with him and smiled, “You are forgiven, sir.”
Darcy then smiled a rich, warm smile, so wide that Elizabeth saw dimples in his cheeks she had never imagined existed. They just stood smiling at each other. Before she knew it, he began alternating his glance between her eyes and her mouth.
Neither knew how it happened, but they were drawn together. Elizabeth felt totally under his power; and she gazed at his mouth as well. Like a moth to a flame, she inched towards him as she sensed him moving closer to her, until their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. She watched as he pulled back from her for a few seconds, to glance into her eyes for approval and then began again. This time she felt him deepen the kiss, as she lifted her arms to touch his shoulders. Elizabeth remembered the feeling of his lips, soft and firm, as well as the warm fluttery feeling that overtook her stomach. As she allowed him to pull her closer and deepen the kiss, she felt his arms wrap around her waist.
Just seconds later the door to the library opened.
“Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy! What is the meaning of this?”
Mr. Bennet entered the library and closed the door.
A white lie had just opened a rather large can of worms!!
November 25th, 2011
November 24th, 2011
Happy Thanksgiving! Please join me for an Interview and a Copy of my book to be given away just in time for your before or after turkey coma viewing pleasure…
November 23rd, 2011