I don’t have much today, other than a blow by blow description of the trouble I have run into preparing my home for the installation of new windows next week. It is doubtful that is of interest to anybody except for me.

What I have instead is an early excerpt from my latest WIP, If Not for the Entail. The story revolves around the fate of Elizabeth and her family following the unanticipated passing of Mr. Bennet, and a despicable villain’s underhanded attempts to steal the estate.

In my story, the entail is gone and Mr. Bennet’s will leaves Elizabeth with the responsibility of managing Longbourn and bringing it back from the brink of ruin. In the chapter below, Elizabeth is searching for a horse who has run off in search of willing mares:

At the first road, Elizabeth looked both ways. Should she follow this route or cross it and continue in the same direction? The lane from Longbourn ended in Meryton, so if the animal continued along this path, she assumed Mr. Hill would catch the animal and bring it back when he returned.
Which way, then, should she turn? She hesitated, unwilling to commit to a choice that might waste her time. Unfortunately, staying here was a worse decision than choosing wrong. The longer she delayed, the farther she would have to chase the animal.
She took a minute to ponder the question, then turned to her right. The closest estate to this corner was Netherfield, but it had no master, which seemed to suit the tenants, who had worked the plots since before the previous owner passed away suddenly five years ago.
That property held no horses; its residents relied on a pair of oxen to till their land. If the horse had turned down this road, he was probably going to the Moore estate next to Netherfield. She knew its mares were in season, but surely the breeze had not carried that odor for three miles or more.
It appeared she was about to find out. With luck, he was there, and she could get him away from his prey and back to Longbourn.
The route took her through a stand of trees that grew so close their branches met overhead, reducing the light reaching the ground. She favored this short length over that portion of road at either end, particularly on days like this one, where the sun’s rays were uncomfortably warm. Although the passage was short, it was enough to cool her and restore her flagging energy.
She enjoyed the heat, a welcome change from the dismal and continuous cold of the last few summers. The birds she saw flying back and forth from the nests, carrying food they shared with their little ones, also appreciated the weather, if she was not imagining the joy in the songs she heard.
Nature’s choir ended upon proceeding further into the patch of woods, their cries lessening as she followed the lane, until the pebbles shifting beneath her feet seemed the only sound. She moved faster, unnerved by the sudden silence, an unusual occurrence, especially within this bit of forest.
Although this was not her first time following the lane through this section, she could not recall another instance without the chorus of birds on all sides and the occasional call of some creature hunting or being hunted. She looked around, wondering if something like a badger had scared the other animals into silence.
“Come along, there,” she heard from the other side of a bend in the road, the sound of a voice solving the mystery, “let’s get out of here into the sunshine, where I can see you better.”
Elizabeth listened to the pleasant voice drawing near, curious as to the identity of its owner. The smooth tones told her this was a man, while the cordial words he used to deliver his instructions brought beautiful pictures to her mind’s eye.
A dashing figure rose in her imagination, one who would sweep her off her feet in an instant and claim her for himself within the first minute of their meeting. Her heart fluttered in response to the dream, and she quickened her steps, wanting to close the distance between them before the reality of the situation interfered.
The man who appeared, however, was not the imposing figure she expected. Rather than inhumanly tall, he looked just an inch or two greater than Elizabeth’s height, although that was hard to judge while he remained on his saddle. His thick brown hair did not cover his head in thick, curly locks, but gave evidence of receding from his forehead, reminding her of Mr. Bennet’s disappearing growth as he aged.
Teasing jests like those she used on her father came to her mind, but she resisted saying anything. Not only was this man a stranger, but she would be hard-pressed to justify the insolence of such humor, well-meaning or not. She was a gentleman’s daughter, not some ragged street urchin.
Because of his position in the saddle, twisting around to look behind him, he had yet to notice her company, allowing Elizabeth to study him at her leisure. His countenance, or the details she could see in the dim light, seemed friendly. Although she had not met this person, his concern for an unknown horse, which he led by a rope looped around its neck, suggested the fellow possessed a kind heart, at least for animals.
“We’ll find your master,” he was saying as they came around the curve, “and get you home where you can enjoy a good meal.”
Although his tone of voice was like what she used, his respect and care for Longbourn’s horse was admirable. This man wanted the best for the beast and seemed determined to make it happen.
“I am not sure he deserves anything to eat,” she said, biting her lip to keep from laughing as the fellow jumped in surprise. “He decided he needed to explore the county and ignored me when I told him I had things to do that did not involve chasing a disobedient horse all over Hertfordshire.”
“It seems he won the argument,” the other remarked, his lips spreading in the widest and friendliest smile Elizabeth thought she had ever seen. “Go easy on him. He probably got bored or impatient and decided to visit the world outside his pasture.”
“What he wanted,” she replied, “was to get at Mr. Moore’s mares, who are in season right now. I cannot imagine how he knew that time of year had arrived, but he apparently thought he should contribute. My stablemaster says they can smell it on the wind, but we are more than two miles apart, so I am not sure if he is correct or just repeating old wives’ tales.”
The other shook his head, but Elizabeth saw his nose wrinkle in amusement and his eyebrows rise at her implication.
“Does your servant make a habit of telling you nonsense?” he asked, the chuckle with his words suggesting he thought she was too quick to judge Hill’s idea.
He leaned close in a conspiratorial manner and quieted his voice. “Are you sure it is wise to trust him? If he lies about this, he might for other, more important, issues as well.”
Elizabeth watched him straighten and take half a step away, then stop to regard her, humor dancing in his eyes. Abruptly, he gave a laugh and tipped his head toward the stallion.
“Forgive me,” he said, “but is this your fine animal? I found him helping himself to a meal of pansies on the side of the road. He let me come right up to him, so I knew he wasn’t afraid of people, but I had to throw a rope over his neck to lead him.”
“Yes, that is my Henry,” she said, to which the man’s eyes widened and he smiled again.
“Henry?” he asked, a mild bit of laughter moving his shoulders. “Interesting. Do you name all the livestock, or just the horses?”
“Doesn’t everybody?” Elizabeth said, a mischievous thought occurring as he spoke. “The estate has a hundred cattle, plus sheep and two or three pigs. Naming them all is difficult, especially as most refuse to answer when I call, or they arrive all at once.”
The stranger watched her, his mouth dropping in amazement or disbelief, Elizabeth was unsure which. He did not seem capable of responding, so she continued.
“And every year there are new ones to name. I reuse those of animals that are not with us anymore, because we butchered them for ourselves or sold them, but we always have more born than those we bid farewell.”
The man took another step from her, as if preparing himself for a rapid escape from this woman he clearly did not trust. Elizabeth moved the length of a shoe closer, whereupon the stranger moved two additional steps away.
“Henry is the only animal on the estate with a label,” she replied, laughing as relief came to his eyes and the concerned frown fell from his lips.
“I named him for a personal reason,” she said, dropping her gaze to hide the sorrow that came alive in her heart. “Forgive me, but the memory is still painful, no matter how much I try to keep the wonderful memories and discard the rest.”
“You do not need to apologize,” he replied. “In my experience, memories can sadden or make us happy, often at the same time. And you are not the only person I know who puts names on their horses. My closest friend did the same with his personal mount. If I meet any more people like the two of you, I might consider doing the same with mine, although I cannot think of anything to call him. Either way, you have nothing to be ashamed of; if the practice brings you peace, why stop?”
Elizabeth threw her head up to look him directly in the eye. “Thank you,” she said and smiled. “That is good advice.”
“It was my pleasure,” he responded, looking from her to the horse that stood quietly at his side staring at Elizabeth.
“I assume you want Henry.” He handed the rope to Elizabeth, who grasped the end and nodded her gratitude. “It appears he knows you. He seems like a gentle enough animal now, so hopefully he will stay home, rather than go chasing after whatever he smells on the breeze.”
“If he doesn’t,” Elizabeth said, glaring at the horse, “I will confine him to the stable. Our estate is not large, so we do not keep more than a few animals to help with the work, plus pull the wagons and the carriage. I have neither the time nor the desire to chase after him whenever he wants excitement.”
She took the rope and pulled, turning the horse to face Longbourn. “Thank you, sir, for rescuing my disobedient animal.”

Who is the stranger and why didn’t he introduce himself? The answers to these and many, many, other questions await you in the book, publishing this summer.