I enjoy posting excerpts. It’s always interesting to offer a glimpse of what is in the pipe and hear what people are thinking. Before I publish each book, I do a rigorous editing program which allows other eyes to look at my manuscript, and ends up costing me many hours of time revising, dealing with any language not appropriate for the genre such as anachronisms, and trying to find that exact word that will say what I wish to say. Usually, my excerpts precede that prettying up period, so some of what I post can be a little rough. I hope people enjoy them and I hope it gives you all a notion of whether it would be worth it to give the entire story a shot.

Four Days at Netherfield was a story concept that came to me out of the blue, and developed from idea to outline to completed book in a much shorter time period than is usually the case. Often my ideas will sit for months on end until I finally have ideas to flesh them out. Then, I choose the story that I have the most affinity for. Usually, I have several stories in various stages of completion. For example, I have one that is only about three or four chapters from being done, and another that I’m about four or five chapters into the writing. I almost always have bits and drabbles of various stories completed when the idea of how to handle a specific scene hits me. To illustrate how quickly this one has progressed, I created the initial outline file on March 20th, had a working outline five days later, and started writing it about a week later. Among all the other things I have going on, it has taken me a bit over two months to write, which is really quick.

So here we go. Let’s have an excerpt and you can tell me what you think. First, an abbreviated synopsis Mr. Darcy presents himself in a different light when Elizabeth goes to Netherfield to care for Jane, which leads to her revising her opinion of him. A full synopsis will, as always, follow. And now for the main event!

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“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” came a voice when she cleared a strand of trees and came face to face with one of the gentlemen at Netherfield—the one she least wished to see at that moment. “How do you do this morning?”

Elizabeth regarded Mr. Darcy, noting the civility of his greeting—it appeared the gentleman was not surprised to see her, though she could not understand why. “Mr. Darcy,” replied she, offering a curtsey.

“I hope your walk was not too tiring.”

Feeling a hint of a smile push up on the corners of her mouth, Elizabeth said: “If you suppose such a trifling walk tires me to excess, you do not know me well.”

The gentleman’s responding smile was as unexpected as was his civility. “It is above three miles, is it not?”

“It is, but I am accounted by all who know me to be an excellent walker.”

“That much is evident, Miss Elizabeth,” replied the gentleman. “I should have supposed I would see you this morning, given Miss Bennet’s convalescence in one of the bedchambers upstairs.”

Surprised yet again, Elizabeth acknowledged the truth of his observation. “I could not restrain myself, for Jane is my closest sister.”

“It is natural that you would wish to see to her recovery yourself,” agreed Mr. Darcy. “To brave three miles of country roads then must be no object.”

Elizabeth regarded the gentleman, wondering if he were making sport with her or subtly mocking her; if he was, she could see nothing of it. While the gentleman appeared to be slightly uncomfortable, that was nothing she had not seen from him before. Thus, it behooved her to return civility for civility, to conduct herself as if this man had not insulted her.

“Do you know how Jane does this morning?” asked Elizabeth.

“A fever and a headache, from what I understand,” said Darcy. Motioning toward the house, he added: “Please allow me to show you to her room.”

There was something off about this situation, but Elizabeth could not make out what it was. Perhaps it was nothing more than the lack of any expectation of seeing him greet her with such courtesy, but Elizabeth could not help but feel the situation was nigh surreal. From whence had this Mr. Darcy come, and where had he been for the last month?

“Miss Bennet is your closest sister?” asked Mr. Darcy as they approached the house.

“Can you doubt it?” asked Elizabeth, curious about his meaning. “Given my general character I can hardly imagine you would suspect me to running about with my younger sisters.”

“As I recall,” said the gentleman, showing her a brief grin, “it is only your two youngest that engage in such folly. Miss Mary is nothing like your other sisters.”

“As she proves daily,” said Elizabeth, feeling a wry affection for the odd sister, one she did not show often. “You are correct, Mr. Darcy, but I am also quite different from Mary.”

Mr. Darcy regarded her out of the corner of his eye and agreed. “Yes, I suppose you are. It must be agreeable to have siblings your age.”

“Then you do not have siblings?” asked Elizabeth.

“A sister,” replied Mr. Darcy. “But I might as well have been an only child, for Georgiana is twelve years my junior.”

The gentleman seemed to consider this and added: “I would not have you misunderstand me, Miss Elizabeth, for I quite dote on my sister. Yet I was at Eton when Georgiana was born and had become quite accustomed to being my parents’ sole concern.”

“You resented her?” asked Elizabeth, understanding how a child that age might have deplored the birth of a much younger sibling.

“No, or at least not once I made her acquaintance.” Mr. Darcy’s features took on the distance of remembrance. “She was so tiny and delightful that I fell in love with her at once.”

The gentleman returned to the present and turned to her. “I love my sister dearly, Miss Bennet, though at times it has been difficult to feel close, given the age difference between us. At times, especially since our father passed away, I have felt more like a father to her than a brother.”

“That is understandable, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth. “You are, after all, an authority figure to her.”

“Yes, I suppose I am,” agreed Mr. Darcy. “It is not a burden I bear alone, however, for I have a cousin my age who assists in her care as stipulated in my father’s will.”

“It sounds like you are quite close to this cousin,” observed Elizabeth.

“My cousin, Colonel Anthony Fitzwilliam,” replied Mr. Darcy. “He is only a year older; we have been companions since we were boys. As his duties in the army require his attention, much of Georgiana’s care falls to me. Yet I would not give up his support for the world, for it has been invaluable.”

Elizabeth nodded, wondering at the different side of Mr. Darcy she was glimpsing through this brief conversation. So far as she could recall, Elizabeth did not think they had ever spoken more than a few sentences together without their conversation ending in acrimony, though she supposed they had not truly spoken much at all. A few occasions at various functions of the neighborhood and one infamous event at Lucas Lodge when Sir William had presented her as a desirable dance partner—other than that, Elizabeth had kept her distance from Mr. Darcy, her opinion of him so poor that she had not wished to provoke further discord by exasperating herself against him.

With an effort, Elizabeth shook her contemplations away, filing them away for future deliberation in favor of what was to come. They had almost reached the house, and given the state of her shoes and petticoats, which had not survived her journey to Netherfield unscathed, she knew the derision of the estate’s mistress was in her near future. However, no one had ever called Miss Elizabeth Bennet bereft of courage.

“It appears the time is upon me, Mr. Darcy.”

When the gentleman glanced at her askance, Elizabeth offered him a grin. “Now I must brave all Miss Bingley’s displeasure, and in a state not fit to be seen.”

Mr. Darcy considered her. “If you will excuse my saying, Miss Elizabeth, I cannot find anything amiss with your appearance.”

Strangely flattered, Elizabeth could do nothing but shake her head. “It is kind of you to say it, sir, but you cannot have overlooked the muddy state of my shoes or the hemline of my gown.” Elizabeth affected a lightness she did not feel. “I am afraid that concern for my sister distracted me, such that I did not see the large patch of mud I encountered during my walk here.”

“Perhaps that is so,” said Mr. Darcy. “Yet I cannot see anything wanting. In my opinion, such minor concerns are swallowed up in your concern for your sister. No one could find anything so selfless as less than laudable.”

A fluttering in her heart caught Elizabeth by surprise at his praise, and she forced sudden embarrassment away by the force of her will. “It is kind of you to say so, sir,” said Elizabeth.

“Not at all,” murmured Mr. Darcy, clearly considering something.

The gentleman regarded her as they walked and stepped to the door, and then appeared to come to a resolution. “If you are willing to listen, Miss Elizabeth, I have a possible solution.”

“Oh?” asked Elizabeth, curious as to what he would suggest. “You have some means of rescuing me from my rash thoughtlessness?”

Mr. Darcy smiled. “Only if you are willing. As I was in Miss Bingley’s company a short time ago, I can report that she is not in the best humor to receive you at present. Thus, should you prefer, I shall be happy to convey you to your sister’s room myself and inform Miss Bingley of your presence. Once you are ensconced in your sister’s room, it should be no trouble for a maid to take your soiled garments and clean them while you wait. Your shoes can be cleaned at the same time.”

Elizabeth was so surprised she stopped and regarded him for a long moment. “That is remarkably kind, Mr. Darcy. I am curious that you are so sensitive to my feelings.”

“Not at all,” assured the gentleman. “I remember as a boy several times when I might have liked similar compassion for my feelings.”

“Ah, but you were a boy, while I am a woman full grown.”

“That you are, Miss Elizabeth.”

The way the gentleman regarded her, his gaze almost a caress, set a shivering in Elizabeth’s spine that she had never felt before. Suddenly, the notion of this man’s aloof nature seemed ridiculous, given the exquisite sensations he provoked in her, and yet she had the evidence of her own memories to inform her that he had been just as she thought many times since his arrival. How curious he had changed so completely, and this in only a few days since the last time she saw him!

“I believe, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth softly, “I would very much appreciate the ability to avoid your friends for the moment. If it will not inconvenience you, I should very much like you to convey me directly to Jane’s room.”

“Then please come with me,” said Mr. Darcy, seeming immensely pleased with himself.