As some of you know, I am in the midst of writing a series titled Elizabeth Said, Darcy Said, where I take well known portions of Ms. Austen’s Pride and Prejudice and expand on them. Each book tells the story first from Elizabeth’s perspective, then reexamines it from Darcy’s point of view.

The first two novellas told the story of Our Dear Couple’s initial meeting at the Meryton Assembly. Books three and four explore Elizabeth’s introduction to Mr. Wickham in town and Mr. Darcy’s reaction when he comes upon them. In this version, however, Darcy’s horse informs Elizabeth and Lydia that his master is not a fan of their new friend. From there, things go decidedly downhill. Wondering how I managed the narrative gymnastics, with a horse no less? You will find the answer to that question in the book.

I’ve had some fun with the stories, using them as an opportunity to give both Elizabeth and Darcy more depth. I especially wanted to give Darcy better treatment because I felt he deserved a kinder personality. Like every person, he has reasons for his words and actions, and I wanted to justify his unfortunate first impression.

It is time to complete the series and provide a satisfying conclusion. To do that, I am previewing an excerpt from book five, releasing in early December. The final novella is to follow hopefully before the end of 2022.

The premise of the story remains unchanged with Lydia’s disappearance, but neither her nor Mr. Wickham achieve what they hope. I am tempted to reveal exactly what I mean by that statement, as well as the title of this blog, but why ruin the surprise?

Without further ado, I give you the a taste of the first chapter from Miss Elizabeth Confronts Lydia:

“I did not go to Meryton looking for Wickham,” Mr. Darcy insisted, lifting his eyes from their contemplation of the floor to glare at Elizabeth. The sight of his right hand pointing at her appeared to surprise him as he dropped it to his side.
“We shared an amicable conversation,” he continued in a softer voice. “And did not argue, despite the rumors people are spreading. I was careful not to even raise my voice, because of concerns you and Miss Bennet have stated for the poor man’s delicate feelings.”
His last few words mocked Jane’s continuing unease regarding the fight she saw in Meryton. She heard the taunt but chose not to respond to the implied insult.
Elizabeth wanted to accept this description of the meeting, but the report reaching Longbourn described something other than what Mr. Darcy claimed.
“Sir William’s account gave Papa a different version,” she said, watching his nostrils flare in anger at the response. “He says you appeared upset because you closed your hand into a fist and shook it in Mr. Wickham’s face. That isn’t a friendly conversation unless your definition of the word differs from Papa’s and mine.”
His derisive laugh jarred her, the sneer that accompanied the sound grating on her nerves. Did he hold her judgment in such low esteem that he thought this dismissive gesture appropriate? She knew what she heard and, no matter how little importance Mr. Darcy gave to Sir William’s description of the altercation, she wanted to discuss the issue.
Why did he not understand that his refusal to explain what happened made matters worse? What about this latest incident did he consider so important he had to keep it from her?
“Sir William should pay attention to himself,” Mr. Darcy growled, “and stop worrying about arguments I may or may not be having when I visit Meryton. His interest is misplaced unless, of course, he is trying to establish himself as the person men go to first for rumors and gossip.”
Elizabeth bit back the retort that rushed to her lips at the accusation. How dare he call Sir William’s conduct into question, when he had taken the time to warn them about the possibility of further trouble between the known adversaries? As a concerned neighbor, he should be commended, not condemned.
“Sir William is a close and trusted family friend,” she said, throwing the words at him as though they alone were going to put this arrogant man in his place forever. “And I won’t have you questioning his sincerity or his motives. He is not given to lying or gossip. Papa rightly thanked him for bringing this to his attention, considering the problems Lydia caused already.”
“Forgive me,” Mr. Darcy said with a heavy sigh, “but I am tired of worrying about Wickham. Every time I go into Meryton, somebody tries to corner me so they can talk about our argument. That is not a conversation I wish to have, for obvious reasons, but these people are relentless.”
“Can you blame them?” Lydia said, coming from the hall where she had probably stood listening to their entire exchange. “They are wondering when you plan on beating him senseless again and want to make sure they are in town to watch. A fight like that is the most exciting thing Meryton has seen in ages, and they prefer to be there the next time you decide to pummel the man on a whim.”
“Mr. Darcy did not ‘pummel’ Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth replied sharply, “and the disagreement did not start for no reason. You, of all people, should realize that.” She saw renewed anger cloud the gentleman’s eyes at the accusation and his jaw tighten in clear preparation for a scathing rebuke. Her control of the discussion was slipping away, and Lydia’s interference did not help.
The unflattering opinion she held of Mr. Darcy, formed in the heat of the moment when he took it upon himself to rescue her from Mr. Wickham, showed no signs of improving. Since that incident, she had taken every opportunity to insult him and question his motives, ignoring his attempts to lessen her dislike.
If he greeted her with kind words, she threw them back at him; a door held for her invited accusations of his intent to trip her when she passed through, and so on. Nothing he said eased her animosity or softened her scorn, and Elizabeth dreaded the inevitable day his temper overthrew any efforts at control.
She witnessed his wrath in Meryton and did not care to endure another display, this one directed at her foolish sister.
Lydia approached the couple and stopped directly in front of Mr. Darcy, so near that he had to choose between looking away or meeting her stare with one of his own. A cruel smile appeared on her mouth and rose to her eyes, which narrowed to slits as her closeness became a challenge for him to respond.
What is the stupid girl doing? Has she lost her mind completely? She must realize that Mr. Darcy will not stand for her insolence or allow her to treat him with such disrespect. If Papa were standing here, she would not be acting the part of a fool, but even so, his absence does not give Lydia permission for this behavior.
“Call it whatever you like,” Lydia said, her attention unwavering, as though she believed challenging him in this way might send him back to Netherfield in shame. “But we both know the truth of the matter, don’t we, Mr. Darcy?”
To Elizabeth’s relief, he offered no reaction to the complete lack of courtesy Lydia exhibited, a favor she would thank him for later.
Her sister, however, did not give up on her pursuit of pulling a response from the man. That must be her aim, Elizabeth guessed, unable to arrive at another excuse for the girl’s actions.
Emboldened by his silence, Lydia continued. “What happened this time? Did witnesses frighten you? Maybe you decided to wait and catch him alone at night. Does that describe your plan, or do you also need him drunk so you can beat him again? It is so much easier if you take him by surprise, isn’t it? Then you don’t have to worry about Mr. Wickham defending himself.”

Their “friendly discussion” becomes the catalyst for the following events in this second-to-last novella of the series. As always, Lydia has put herself in the thick of things and her actions cause Elizabeth pain and heartache. Will ODC find their happily ever after? What about Lydia and Mr. Wickham? All I can tell you is I am having a great time describing the shenanigans leading up to the book’s conclusion. You won’t be disappointed in the way I treat the characters. If I may be so bold, I think you will get a kick out of what happens to Mr. Wickham.

If you are wondering about the picture I included in my post, rest assured, it is not the cover. That image is not ready yet, so I went online and used an AI generator. Although it’s not studio quality by any means, it is not too bad. Maybe in a year or two we won’t need to hire a professional to design a book cover. Who am I kidding? Artificial Intelligence will never take the place of good old fashioned human creativity. This is a nice toy to play around with but I’m not going to embrace computer technology for something like this. Ever.