Though my brother spoke of the coming of spring, I have not seen anything of it yet. We are still cold and we are getting enough snow to bury us until June, as this photo from my front window will attest. As I spoke at some length about this in my last post, I will not bore you any further. But you can likely tell by my choice of image that I am eager to leave the winter behind and finally get into warmer weather!

Life continues for me, though I am firmly in my silly season. Not only am I preparing for our Easter services, getting choir numbers ready and so on, but I am also involved in the local production of The Messiah. I have sung it once before, in 2019 at Christmas right before Covid hit. This is the first time we are doing it again after, and I am really excited. My free moments are spent moments going over parts, smoothing out the more complicated sections, some of which I did not quite master last time. I am also going to be singing The Trumpet Shall Sound at one of the performances, which is really exciting! If I manage to get my hands on some recordings, I will post them. Other than that we are keeping busy with work, my daughter’s volleyball, and other things. Looking forward to the coming year!

With respect to writing, I am continuing continuing to plug away, though I have tried to alter things a little to squeeze out a little more productivity. I am using tools like writing calendars to track my progress, but I am also trying to write multiple works for the first time. The reason is I always find it difficult to finish off a book, and I think it is because I become so focused on that story, I burn out on it just a little. By writing something else occasionally, I am trying to avoid that.

Recently, I released Something More Substantial, a full length Pride and Prejudice variation. The story focuses on what might have happened had Elizabeth met Darcy at Hunsford without Bingley leasing Netherfield Park. The book is available in eBook, paperback, hardcover, and audio book formats here.

Those who have followed me for some time know that Lelia and I put out a tome of short stories several years back titled Love and Laughter. I recently went through some of those stories and decided that a couple of them required further detail. Thus, one I am working on right now takes the same basic premise, but alters it elaborates on what happened. Thus, I present to you an excerpt of Fate’s Intervention the expanded version. For those who have read it before, you will find much of this excerpt to be familiar territory. I hope you all enjoy it!

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It is said that something so little as a breath of wind can alter a person’s fate. While it is not the purpose of this story to examine such dusty philosophical concepts, seemingly minor events had the potential to make drastic alterations in one’s life. In the situation in question, the matter was not nearly so minor, or it did not seem so when a defective shoe coupled with a slippery step conspired to throw the cherished plans of a particular young woman from Hertfordshire into the dustbin of pathways untraveled.

Elizabeth Bennet, knowing her sister was not fit to be out of the nursery, let alone free to run wild in Brighton with only a woman as silly as she for a chaperon, had pleaded with her father not to let Lydia leave Longbourn. Such a wild child would surely find trouble in Brighton, a place rife with flirtatious officers and bereft of any sort of restraining influence. There were any number of ways in which Lydia could disgrace her family in such an environment.

“Do you not see, Papa?” demanded Elizabeth when Lydia brought news of the invitation to Longbourn. “The girl is quickly becoming beyond amendment, and will surely reach that state if we do not act to curb her wild ways.”

“Yes, I understand your point, Lizzy,” mused her father, not at all put off by his daughter’s insistence. It was not uncommon for her to speak to her father in such a way, and Mr. Bennet was accustomed to asking her opinion. She was the most sensible of his daughters and his favorite, and was thus allowed a great deal of leeway in how she spoke to him.

“Even now,” said Elizabeth, when he did not speak further, “she is in the sitting-room with Mama, lording her supposed superiority over Kitty, doing as much as she can to make her miserable.”

“I cannot imagine it will take much,” chuckled her father. “Kitty is rather irritable, and sensitive to all her sister’s barbs.”

“The reason for that,” rejoined Elizabeth, “as you well know, is Mama’s indulgence in her youngest, which often comes at Kitty’s expense. If she were of a more forceful personality, Kitty might have more success in withstanding her. In this instance, I cannot but think Kitty has a right to be upset. Lydia should not even be out of the schoolroom with her behavior.”

“I dare say everything you have said on the subject is correct, Lizzy,” replied her father. “Yet, I cannot but think this is an opportunity that does not come often.”

“What do you mean?” asked Elizabeth, afraid she knew exactly what her father meant.”

“Why,” said Mr. Bennet, his tone reflecting his amusement and self-satisfaction, “that she be sundered from us for a time with little to no expense or inconvenience on our parts.”

“Is the inconvenience all you can consider, Papa?” asked Elizabeth, disappointed.

“When it comes to my youngest daughter,” muttered Mr. Bennet, “one must take the small miracles when they appear.”

Elizabeth looked on, wondering how she could ever persuade him. Then a notion came to her, and she grasped at it without considering the ramifications.

“Do you not suppose that Lydia is a detriment to our respectability as a family? Will not having a silly sister intent upon showing herself to the worst possible advantage not affect our ability to hold our heads high, for the rest of us, however unlikely, to attract husbands?”

Mr. Bennet’s eyes swung to her. “I apologize, Lizzy, I was not aware your youngest sister had scared off any of your lovers. For that matter, I have not seen anyone loitering about the estate eager to make love to you.”

While her father’s words, little though he intended them as such, stung Elizabeth’s vanity, she forced such feelings aside in favor of trying to make him understand. “You are mistaken, Papa, for Lydia has not injured me. But you have another daughter who has suffered disappointment in recent months.”

“Jane?” asked Mr. Bennet, his interest finally provoked. “Are you speaking of that Bingley fellow going away and not returning?”

“I am, Papa,” said Elizabeth. Hesitantly, not wishing to reveal too much of what passed between herself and Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth said: “As you know, I met Mr. Darcy again in Kent, when he was visiting his Aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”

A snort was Mr. Bennet’s response. “Yes, I recall you speaking of it. Given what little I know of Mr. Darcy coupled with all my cousin has said of the lady, I cannot help but suppose the resemblance between them is striking.”

Again, Elizabeth thought this was unfair to the gentleman, given what she now knew of him. To speak on such a subject would be to invite uncomfortable questions, so Elizabeth allowed her father to think of Mr. Darcy what he would.

“The salient point is that Mr. Darcy revealed to me that the comportment of certain members of the family figured prominently in the gentleman’s failure to return.”

At this, Mr. Bennet frowned. “Is that so? I cannot imagine how such a subject rose between you. As I recall, you and Mr. Darcy were not precisely friendly when he was here last autumn.”

“We were not,” replied Elizabeth. “The circumstances do not matter. What does matter is Mr. Bingley’s sisters used certain aspects of our situation, especially the behavior of Mama and your youngest daughters, to persuade their brother against Jane.”

“Does Jane know of this?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Jane appears to finally be recovering from her disappointment. I would not open old wounds.”

“That is likely for the best,” said Mr. Bennet. “Then it is all the more imperative for Lydia to learn of her insignificance in the world, and there is no better place where she may do it than in Brighton.

“Consider this, Lizzy,” said Mr. Bennet when she would have protested, “in Brighton, Lydia will not find the paradise he supposes she will. In a city like Brighton, the officers must have their pick of vapid young girls vying for their attention. Thus, she will be one among many. Furthermore, if she exposes herself to ridicule, what better place can she do it than in a city where no one will know her, and gossip will not make its way back to Meryton?”

“It would be better if she was prevented altogether.”

“Perhaps it would,” said Mr. Bennet, shrugging as if Elizabeth’s assertion was of no consequence. “The endeavor, however, would be so draining, that I cannot think we would survive unscathed. She wishes to go to Brighton? Let her go, I say, so she may hasten her education. When she returns, we can think of how to go about instructing her to understand what she must learn.”

Disappointing though it was, Elizabeth could think of nothing that would move her father to change his opinion. Patient though he was with her, his favorite daughter, Elizabeth knew he would not allow her to push him forever. Thus, she must resign the field in defeat, though the fear that Lydia would do something to ruin the family remained with her no matter how much she tried to tell herself that all would be well. The moment she emerged from her father’s study she could hear Lydia carrying on, teasing her sister, and Elizabeth, unwilling to endure her sister’s poor behavior for a moment longer than she must, opted to return to her bedroom to exasperate herself against her silly sister and intractable father in solitude.

Had Elizabeth thought he believed his words, she might have taken some comfort in the affair. A truthful woman, however, Elizabeth had always practiced as much truth in her own thoughts as she did with others. While her father claimed the lessons Lydia would learn in Brighton would prove invaluable, his motivations were revealed to be little more than his own comfort. Unable to endure the thought of the uproar Lydia would cause if she were denied the amusement, her father was content to allow her to go to Brighton and all the danger that entailed.

Elizabeth was not made for unhappiness, and while she could not help the feeling of dread that accompanied the thought of Lydia going to Bright, soon she pushed such thoughts away. There was nothing she could do, and little reason to worry it over in her mind. Lydia would go to Brighton, and Elizabeth had no choice but to pray for deliverance.

And then fate intervened.

Elizabeth had little part in the preparations for Lydia’s departure, not that anyone other than Mrs. Bennet concerned herself with Lydia’s going. Jane and Elizabeth comforted Kitty as best they could and protected her from Lydia’s meanspirited attacks whenever necessary; in this last, a rather spectacular argument between Elizabeth and Lydia reined in the girls unkindness. But that is a story for another time. The time passed swiftly, and soon the day of Lydia’s departure arrived. By that time, Elizabeth was certain even Kitty wished for nothing more than to be free of her obnoxious sister.

There was no indication of any trouble, right up to the point Lydia was to enter the coach which was to carry her away. Colonel Forster’s carriage was not a large conveyance, but as the man had preceded his wife to Brighton with his men, Elizabeth supposed it was more than enough for his silly wife and her ridiculous friend.

“I shall miss all of you!” exclaimed the girl, though her manner spoke of the exact opposite. “And should I come across beaux for any of my sisters, I shall inform you directly!”

Elizabeth did not think it politic to mention that she did not think her sister capable finding her own beau in a proper manner, to say nothing of what she might do to interest officers in her sisters. If she would even set aside time to consider such concerns, given her selfishness.

“You must write very particularly of everything you do,” said Mrs. Bennet, swiping ineffectually at the tears streaming down her face. “And take every opportunity to enjoy yourself.”

“I shall!”

And Elizabeth had no doubt the girl would, to the detriment of all her family. Again, she indulged in a silent prayer, hoping the Lord on high would protect her silliest sister from herself.

“Goodbye!” said Lydia as she turned to the coach.

And that was when it happened. Lydia lifted her right foot and set it on the step of the coach, but as her weight came down, the heel of her boot buckled to the side, throwing her off balance, and the slick surface of the step did the rest. Had she been holding the rails with both hands, it might have been different, but Lydia, in her eagerness to depart, had thought only of entering the carriage as expeditiously as possible. Lydia attempted to catch herself, flailing about with one hand, but it was all in vain. She pitched forward, her head striking the open door of the carriage. Then she fell into a heap beside the carriage.

For a moment, no one moved. The shock of her accident had frozen them all.