Hi friends! Happy Friday! I’m so excited to welcome back the love Maria Grace to Austenesque Reviews! I’ve read almost a dozen of Maria Grace’s books and are currently enjoying her latest Fine Eyes and Pert Opinions (review coming next week!) And if you aren’t familiar with this story it has a a very interesting premise – Mr. Bennet is a vicar in Kympton and the Bennet sisters grew up near Pemberley! And there are some other fun twists involved and engaging new characters! Maria is here today to share an excerpt from Fine Eyes and Pert Opinions, we hope you enjoy!

Thanks so much for having me, Meredith! It’s always great to visit with you.

I’m really excited about Fine Eyes and Pert Opinions. It is a very different take on Pride and Prejudice, with a healthy dose of other Austen works thrown in.

~ Excerpt ~

The first rays of sunrise teased Elizabeth awake. Why was the light coming from the wrong direction and why did sleep not easily slough away? She stretched and glanced about. Elegant oak furnishings not her own surrounded her. The bed linens—so fine—and the mattresses—so soft—Pemberley. She was in a guest room at Pemberley.

She pushed herself up to sit. How late had she come to bed last night? Certainly, far later than she was accustomed to. How odd yesterday had been. All things considered, though, all company considered, it was probably best that there was someone dedicated to look after Miss Darcy’s welfare.

She swung her feet out of bed and yawned—so many cobwebs in her head this morning. Fresh air—a walk, that was what she needed to clear her mind. Yes, mornings always agreed with her, beckoning her out to come and take part in the day before it became full of too many other people.

A simple morning gown would do—one that would likely earn Miss Bingley’s censure for its drab color and lack of ornamentation—but no one would see her, so it would suffice. She tied on her half boots and bonnet and slipped outside into the morning.

Was there any fragrance so pleasing as dew upon the grass? Any song so soothing as that of distant sheep bleating making a counterpoint to the twittering songbirds? Why would anyone trade such pleasures for the dismal confines of London and its dreary, dirty demands?

It seemed most of Pemberley’s current occupants, save Mr. Darcy himself, found London the center of great delight. For Sir Alexander, it made sense. Where else might he find such attention for his works? But the balls and parties and society the rest found such a draw—

 Her lip curled and she shuddered. No, that was no place for her. The wild countryside of Derbyshire was much more to her tastes. She paused to look up into the leafy canopy of old hardwoods that enveloped her along the footpath. The woods called her deeper into their shade and she obeyed, old leaves and deadfall crunching underfoot.

Jane might be able to navigate that sphere of society. She fitted in so well with the Bingleys—Mr. Bingley had paid her many attentions last night. Perhaps that life might suit her well.

It would be lonely without Jane. But if it meant she were well settled and Papa might stop worrying for all their futures, it would be worth it. If it all came to pass, how fitting that Mr. Darcy would be responsible for that benefit as well.

“My goodness, that is a most thoughtful look on your face, Miss Elizabeth. What heavy considerations might you be weighing at so early an hour?” Sir Alexander jumped down from a large branch of the tree directly beside her.

Elizabeth gasped and jumped back. “My goodness, sir! Do you make a habit of lying in wait in the tree tops for unsuspecting prey like some jungle cat?”

He threw back his head and laughed, a full-bodied sound that must have started somewhere near his toes and worked its way up to his throat. His hazel eyes twinkled like the sun through the trees, matched by his ready smile. For all her prejudices, he really was as well-looking a man as everyone said. “I have at times been thought a predator, but never a jungle cat. Should I consider that a compliment or censure?”

“Neither, I think.”

“You are not accustomed to men falling at your feet?”

“Hardly.” She folded her arms across her waist.

Well, that is a pity. You should be accustomed to it.” He gestured toward the path ahead with a grand flourish. “Do not beautiful women desire to be fought for, fought over, by gallant men who would throw themselves at their feet?”

“I would not know.” He already knew that.

“Do not tell me you do not have scores of gentlemen suitors crowding your father’s door for merely a glimpse of you.” He stepped very close, too close.
She edged back to a more comfortable distance. “You confuse me with my sister, Jane.”

“Modest, beautiful, and my sister tells me, far more informed and intelligent than most men.” He stared intently into her eyes. Caroline Bingley would probably be happy to receive such a look from him.

“Pray do not flatter me.”

“Then what am I to do with you, Miss Elizabeth?” Could he make her name sound any more indecent? “Tell me what am I to do with you if I am not to compliment or flatter. It seems you neither desire my falling at your feet nor even asking you questions. What does that leave me to do?” His eyes—no one, no man had ever looked at her that way: the way men looked at Jane or Miss Garland. He closed the distance between them again. “You seem so startled. Have you never been appreciated by a man before?”

“You well know the answer.”

“Such pert opinions! Now that is a charm. It is quite endearing.” His cheeks dimpled as he smiled. “Especially with such beauty to appreciate.”

“Are these words your own, or are you trying on a speech for one of your stage rogues who will shock and delight your audience?”

Again, that whole body laugh that tried to reach in and coax her soul to join. “You are preternaturally perceptive. For I am in all my characters, and they are all in me. But truly, I am a harmless fellow. You have nothing to fear from me.”

“I do not fear you.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze.

But you are discomposed by me.”
You have been difficult to understand.”

“And what you do not understand, you do not trust.” He circled her, lazily, predatorially. “I think there is little you do not understand. The sensation must be very unusual for you.”

Why did words fail her now?

“And perhaps invigorating?” There he was again too near—so near the heat of his breath played on her skin.

Every nerve awakened, standing at the ready to catch and act upon whatever might next stimulate it. Her breath came more rapidly and her chest ached.

“I think I will—” He whispered, “—kiss you…”

“No.” She jumped back into a long shadow. “Mr. Darcy!”

Two long steps brought him to stand between her and Sir Alexander. “Good morning, Garland. I did not know you to be fond of an early walk.”

Sir Alexander smiled oddly and tipped his hat. “I keep rather unusual hours—I sleep very little, you see. Blanche will vouch for me—she finds me pacing the halls and grounds at all hours—tormented by my muse who calls and demands obedience. If you will excuse me.” He bowed and sauntered into the trees.

Mr. Darcy watched until he disappeared, eyes narrow, lips drawn tight. “Are you well? You seem distressed.”

“I … I hardly know what to say. I came upon him so unexpectedly; he jumped out of a tree at my feet. It was rather—disquieting.”

His eyebrows flashed up, then knotted into something that might have been fearsome had she not seen it accompany deep thought before. “What is your opinion of him?”

“I find him difficult to make out.” That was the kindest thing she could say.

Mr. Darcy offered his arm. Was it silly to feel safe and protected with him? Probably, but it did not change the fact that she did. They walked in the opposite direction to Sir Alexander’s retreat.

“You know that I find your insight quite keen. May I ask you a rather difficult question?” How vulnerable he sounded. “Few are honest with me, especially to the degree which I can count on you to be.”

“I am not sure if that is a commendation or a condemnation.”

“Truly, you do not know?” He paused and searched her face. “I mean it as a compliment.”

Something about the intensity of his gaze—her face flushed hot, nearly burning.

Thankfully he began to walk again. “You are quite perceptive, particularly where my sister is concerned. Do you believe Garland harmful company for her?”

“I understand he is a great friend of Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

“The acquaintance is not of long standing. They met shortly before Garland inherited the baronetcy. As I understand he was the heir presumptive. Miss Garland’s father was the previous baronet.”

“They are not brother and sister as they portray themselves to be? I confess that is odd, but he treats her very well for a cousin. That speaks well of him I suppose.” Better than others of his actions.

“Do you think he would trifle with Georgiana?”

Heat crept up her face. Would Sir Alexander dare speak to Miss Darcy as he had just spoken to her? “I do not know, sir. But I believe his open nature, excellent appearance, and dramatic flair might easily be misinterpreted. It might do to caution Miss Darcy with respect to his impulsive speeches. She might easily be swayed to believe he means something that he does not.”

“You would give the same caution to your father?”

“I would advise Lydia be kept well away from him, though Kitty and Mary could be in his company far more safely. Lydia is not the kind who thinks through her actions nor is she able to fathom what consequences there may be.”

“I have the same concern for Georgiana.”

“Miss Darcy is very clever. I understand why at times it may be difficult to have faith in it, but I have no doubt of her understanding. She is very much like your mother.”

He nodded, that deep somber nod that made her believe he was actually listening, not merely absently responding for politeness sake.

“Miss Garland seems very fond of Miss Darcy. As well as Sir Alexander treats his cousin, I hope he would not interfere with one of her friends.”

“She and Georgiana played together very well last night. It was a very different sort of music though—made up as they went. I cannot fault the pleasure they found in playing or say listening was in any way unpleasant …”

“But the lack of order detracted from your enjoyment?” There really was no need to ask. “I have never heard anything like it.”

“None of us has, I think.”

“You approve of Miss Garland’s friendship with your sister?”

“Georgiana does not often take to a person so quickly or easily. That speaks well of her.” Mr. Darcy closed his eyes and turned his face toward the sky. “She is a unique woman. Entirely striking. Utterly so. I have never seen her equal.”

“It is difficult to imagine anyone who would not pale in her company.” Those words should not have been so difficult to say.

“That is true, but I believe she has suffered much for it. Few women are easy in the company of one so superior to them.”

He was right, she probably was very lonely if the glares and glowers of Miss Bingley and Miss de Bourgh were any indication. Sympathy for Miss Garland would be appropriate, but it was just out of reach.

“Miss Garland spoke very highly of you in your absence after the picnic. I think she was pleased that you accepted the invitation to stay at Pemberley.”

“I am flattered.” Hopefully her voice did not sound as flat to him as it did to her.

“Do you think Miss Garland misses London very much? Will the amusements of the country be sufficient for her?” He bent his head, thoughtful, perhaps even worried.

“I hardly know. It appears she is able to enjoy the pleasures of wherever she is, city or country, with equal aplomb.” How tempting it was to speculate on exactly the nature of those pleasures, but it would not do to be simultaneously unladylike and uncharitable.

Again, his nod. What was he considering beneath that furrowed brow? Probably Miss Garland, and what kind of social asset she might be.

Her belly churned again. Indeed, those fish must still be disagreeing with her.

Elizabeth walked with Darcy back to the house where breakfast had already been set out in the morning parlor. If only she could take to her rooms, but no, she had best join the party lest Jane worry.

Sir Alexander noted her entrance with an upraised eyebrow and something that very much resembled a smirk. Was he proud of disquieting her so early in the day? Or did he merely dislike kippers with his morning meal? It was possible.

Either way, he would not have the satisfaction of her acknowledgement. Elizabeth helped herself to a Bath bun—whose fragrance was too tempting to ignore—and tea from the marble-topped mahogany sideboard and took a seat by the window, near Jane. The morning sun embraced that side of the wide, round table, perfect for driving out the last vestiges of the damp chill of her walk—and Sir Alexander’s attentions.

Jane greeted Elizabeth with a nod and a smile and returned to her conversation with Miss Bingley. Perhaps she need not be here at all.

Mr. Darcy seated himself at his customary place near the door, marked by his newspaper and coffee. Beside him, Colonel Fitzwilliam made a show of trying to take the newspaper before Mr. Darcy read it. Though Mr. Darcy appeared rather annoyed, it seemed more the pleasant exchange of brothers rather than a genuine disagreement.

Miss Garland, in a posture that could only be described as draped over her chair, seemed to enjoy observing one and all, well out of the morning sun that might have deleterious effects on her complexion. She spent a great deal of time studying Mr. Darcy.

Miss Darcy sat between the two Garlands, half-whispering lines to Sir Alexander while Miss Garland occasionally whispered bits of acting advice. Elizabeth swallowed hard. In her white muslin gown trimmed with pink bows, Miss Darcy looked like such a child between the worldly, wise and wealthy Garlands. Perhaps suggesting that she be allowed to participate in the house party had not been wise.

***

~ Connect with Maria ~

Blog    ❧   Twitter    ❧    Facebook    ❧   Pinterest    ❧   Austen Variations

~ About Maria ~

Five-time BRAG Medallion Honoree, Maria Grace has her PhD in Educational Psychology and is a 16-year veteran of the university classroom where she taught courses in human growth and development, learning, test development and counseling. None of which have anything to do with her undergraduate studies in economics/sociology/managerial studies/behavior sciences. She pretends to be a mild-mannered writer/cat-lady, but most of her vacations require helmets and waivers or historical costumes, usually not at the same time.

She writes gas lamp fantasy, historical romance and non-fiction to help justify her research addiction. Her books are available at all major online booksellers.

GIVEAWAY TIME!!!

Today Maria generously offers ONE copy ebook of her newest release – Fine Eyes & Pert Opinions – for me to give away to ONE lucky winner!

To enter this giveaway, leave a comment, question, or some love for Maria!

• This giveaway is open worldwide.  Thank you, Maria!
• This giveaway ends October 275h!