What if Lady Anne Darcy was still alive when her son met Elizabeth Bennet? How does that one small change alter the story?

Spanning over 25 years and 2 generations, this family saga explores the life Fitzwilliam Darcy would have had if his mother had not died young and the friendships that made him the man we have come to love.

With original and familiar characters, this tale is an up-close view of the Darcys marriage, Fitzwilliam’s childhood, and the circumstances that formed their characters.

And without further ado….here is the big reveal!!!

(expected release date: Thanksgiving Weekend!)

How beautiful! I love the soft brush strokes and delicate details of this cover! 🖌

I love all the blue – are those forget-me-nots, I wonder their significance to the story… And I love the blue-tinted Pemberley (I am assuming). It looks very picturesque! 💙

Is it weird that I also admire the elegant fonts chosen? 🔤

I love that Lady Anne is such a prominent character in this story! That is very rare! 👒

What do you think, friends? 🤔

~~~

~ Excerpt from Sons of Pemberley ~

London, Spring 1811

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a young man can refuse any woman who wishes him to dance when he would rather not—except his mother.

“Fitzwilliam, I must have you dance. Allow me to find you a partner.”

“Yes, Mother,” he said dutifully.

She smiled at his reluctance and led him to his cousin, Lady Arabella Dryden. He smiled at her in thanks and led his cousin to the floor.

“Are you enjoying the Season, Cousin?” she asked.

“Not as much as you,” he replied.

She laughed. “Be careful, Darcy, or it might become known you have a sense of humor.”

“Have you made any conquests yet?” he asked, ignoring her teasing look.

“Of course!” she cried. “Lord Epping has called on me twice, but I don’t think I could bear to look at his face across the breakfast table every day, so I will let him down gently.”

“How kind of you,” said Darcy dryly.

“And of course there is Mr. Arlington. You remember him from last Season. He is a very determined man. No matter how many times I tell him I am not interested in his attentions he insists on pursuing me. He is forcing me to be rude.”

Darcy shook his head and separated from her for a minute.

“Are there any gentlemen you wish to encourage?” he asked when the movement brought them back together.

“Well, there is one,” she said slyly. “But mother will not like him. His estate is small and he has no title. But he does have the loveliest smile,” she sighed and turned around him and Darcy barely resisted rolling his eyes.

His young cousin was pretty, rich, and well connected—her father was an earl and her mother was the daughter of one of the wealthiest peers in the realm. Her family had high expectations of her marriage and she was determined to enjoy a few Seasons before settling down to a Life of Sameness as she called it. Her first Season had been wildly successful. She had been invited to every party, soiree, and ball, and danced every dance. Eligible gentlemen were falling over themselves to court her and she turned them all down, with a smile and an offer of friendship. She had introduced two of her would-be suitors to the ladies they eventually married—and she had no qualms taking credit for the matches.

In short, she was a force to be reckoned with and one he was glad was on his side—as long as she didn’t turn her match-making skills on him.

~

“Will Mr. Bingley come to Pemberley this summer?” asked Lady Anne at breakfast.

“I have invited him, but his plans are not fixed. He should let me know soon enough.”

She nodded. “Is he still planning to lease an estate?”

Darcy nodded.

“You should send him to Blackwood. He may know of something.”

“I already have,” he said with a smile before biting his toast.

She returned it with an almost identical smile of her own. “I should have known. My ever-capable son.”

He nodded in thanks and they ate quietly until Lady Anne said, “What do you think of the seaside?”

“In general, or for a specific purpose?”

She ignored his impertinence. “I have thought of taking the children this summer. Luke was so young last we went I doubt he remembers it. Georgiana has been longing to go since her friends from school went last year and told her all about it. I have never seen her so envious as when she was recounting their adventures.”

“Did you have somewhere in mind? Brighton or Ramsgate?”

“I had thought Margate. Brighton will be terribly overrun and even Ramsgate will be crowded. Margate will be peaceful and idyllic, don’t you think? Your father and I stayed there in ninety. It was lovely.”

“That was twenty years ago.”

She shot him a look. “I am sure the sea is still there, Fitzwilliam. I will write to my cousin and see if she wishes to join us.”

“Very well. I will ask Jones to inquire about renting a cottage.”

“Thank you, my dear, but that won’t be necessary. I’m sure my uncle will grant us the use of his house. You are welcome to join us, you know. If Mr. Bingley has not committed to a visit yet, it may be the perfect time to adjust your plans. The children would love it if you came—Luke especially.”

“I will think about it, Mother.”

She smiled and left the table.

~

The third week of June, the Darcy family left London and made their way to Margate. Darcy, his closest friend Mr. Bingley, and his brothers Nathaniel and Luke rode alongside the carriage. Lady Anne Darcy, her daughter Georgiana, her cousin Lady Julia Dryden, the countess of Livingstone, and that lady’s daughter Lady Marianne Pickering rode inside.

Lady Julia and Lady Anne’s mothers had been sisters; Anne and Julia had grown up together, gone to school together, come out together, and married within a month of each other. Their friendship was a steady one, and they spent much time together over the years.

Lady Julia’s eldest daughter, Marianne—born a month after her cousin, Fitzwilliam—was expecting her third child and spending the summer with her mother and aunt. Her sons were with her husband’s parents in Lincolnshire—at their insistence—while her husband himself was on the peninsula. He was a colonel in the eighty-second light division. She would have followed the drum as she had done in previous summers, but her pregnancy kept her in England until the babe was safely delivered.

Lady Marianne could have done better than a second son and a colonel—with her dowry and connections she could have gotten a first son and heir, or so her mother lamented, but she would have the colonel and none other, and his father was an earl, so her parents could not object too much. Privately, Marianne thought herself too plain to bring a high price on the marriage mart, but she would not point this out herself if others were disinclined to notice it. Her youngest sister was toying with the heir of a marquess; that would have to satisfy her mother’s plans for matrimonial greatness.

They arrived in Margate with little hassle and made themselves at home in the rambling house. Lady Anne had been born a Fitzwilliam; her mother, and Lady Julia’s mother, had been born Digbys, of the Somerset Digbys. This house was owned by her maternal uncle, Sir Colin Digby, and Lady Anne smiled to see the family crest framed simply in the vestibule.

“Where do you want me, Lady Anne?” asked Marianne in her straightforward manner.

Anne smiled. Marianne spoke as plainly as she dressed, yet she could not help but find it refreshing. “Let us see if Mildred has ruined anything with her redecorating,” she answered as she led the way up the stairs.

Mildred Digby was her cousin’s wife, who, with Colin Digby’s declining health and increasing years, had begun redecorating his homes as if they were already hers. It was terribly indelicate, and Anne felt no shame in despising her for it. Her Uncle Digby was greatly loved and valued by his family, and she found anyone who wished his death a moment earlier than God ordained it to be unworthy of her time and heartless in the extreme.

“Let’s put you here,” she said to Marianne. They entered a breezy room with large windows facing the sea. “If Fitzwilliam says anything about you getting the best room, tell him pregnancy earns you precedence. And then send him to me.”

Marianne returned her mischievous smile and began to settle in. Her mother’s maid bustled in shortly to help her unpack. Marianne refused to keep her own maid; it was impossible to have one always with her on campaign—one of the lower soldier’s wives was usually happy for the little work she gave them, and when she was with her family or her husband’s there was always someone who would do to help her with what she couldn’t manage herself. She would much rather save the expense—and herself the trouble of elaborate hairstyles and ridiculous gowns.

The women in her family were horrified by this, naturally.

Lady Anne settled everyone into their rooms, Nathaniel and Luke sharing a chamber at the back of the house and Fitzwilliam and Charles Bingley in linked rooms far from the ladies.

Lady Anne rather liked Charles Bingley. He was not who she would have originally chosen as a close friend for her son, but he was a significant improvement over George Wickham, whom she thought was not worth the breath one wasted in talking of him. Bingley’s fortune had come from trade, but she was not so blinded by prejudice that she could not see how kind he was, and how genuine his affection for her son. His father had educated him as a gentleman and he was looking to purchase an estate of his own. All of this would of course make him more acceptable to her circles, and she would do what she could for the boy. It was rare to find someone so pure of heart, so utterly bereft of malice. His situation was not ideal, but his character was exactly what her son needed in a friend. And she could admit to being a little beguiled by him herself.

He reminded her of her husband, and of her son Luke. So cheerful and unguarded. Fitzwilliam was more like herself—reserved, thoughtful, preferring intelligent discussions and debates to light conversations on inconsequential topics. She and George Darcy had been good for each other that way. She had grounded him when he became too carried away by his own joie de vivre; he had lifted her out of what could have become a depressing well of silence and introspection.

She hoped Mr. Bingley would be as lightening an influence on her son as her husband had been on her.

~

The beach was perfect. Darcy took his brothers swimming with Bingley and only had to fish Luke out of the deep water once. His youngest brother had come up spitting and gasping, declaring that he would have righted himself in a moment and his brother’s interference had not been necessary. Darcy had laughed, then apologized for doubting Luke’s aquatic abilities.

Georgiana split her time between the pianoforte and her cousin Marianne. She was fascinated by her cousin’s life. Marianne had been on the peninsula several times since she married seven years ago, traveling with her husband’s regiment. Marianne had seen the troops prepare for battle, and even assisted the surgeon by organizing supplies before the battles. She had slept in a tent, and been on a ship, and ridden across Portugal on a horse.

Georgiana peppered Marianne with questions while stitching a cap for the baby; she adjusted her cousin’s shawl, brought her a cushion when she looked uncomfortable, and always poured her tea exactly the way she liked it. Lady Anne and Lady Livingstone found it terribly amusing, but they never let Georgiana see for fear she would be embarrassed and cease to be so entertaining. Lady Anne would never admit it out loud, but she too enjoyed hearing stories of life following the drum. It was so very different from what she had always known; she couldn’t help but be fascinated.

~

“Why are you hiding away by yourself?” asked Marianne when she came upon Fitzwilliam in the garden.

“I am not hiding,” he said, straightening his back on the bench he was sitting on.

“Of course, you aren’t. You are merely sitting on a bench by yourself behind a hedge in an empty garden. I can’t imagine why I thought you were hiding.”

He glanced sideways at his cousin and gave her a half smile. “You are too observant for your own good, Marianne.”

“Out with it. What has you hiding from your dear mama and mine?”

He looked into the empty garden and said nothing.

“Shall I guess?” He gave her another look and she continued, “Your mother has found the perfect woman for you to marry, from a good family and with a respectable dowry. If it wasn’t for her hair, her face, and her personality, you would be thrilled with the match.”

He grimaced.

“Am I right?”

“Nearly.”

She looked at him expectantly.

“Her hair is tolerable.”

Marianne burst out laughing. “Poor Fitzwilliam!” After she had calmed a bit, she touched his arm gently. “I am sorry. I know it’s awful when they play matchmaker.”

“How did you stand it?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.

“I chose my own husband before they could get too far in their scheming.”

Darcy scoffed.

“Mother wasn’t happy he had no estate, but at least the connection was good. And I think she was beginning to think I wouldn’t marry at all,” she added ruefully.

“You were twenty when you married Pickering. Hardly an old maid!” Darcy replied.

“It was my third season and she had wanted me to marry my second. Remember Josiah Cuthbert?”

Darcy groaned. “How could I forget? I can’t believe she considered him.”

“If that’s what you thought of him, imagine how I felt! Thank God for Father. He put him off before he could propose. Though I have wondered if it was because he didn’t like him, or if he thought I would refuse him and cause a scandal,” she said thoughtfully.

“I imagine it was a little of both.”

“Yes, likely so.” She turned to face him again and put one hand on her protruding belly. “You will not distract me so easily, Cousin. Why not simply choose a woman to marry yourself? You’re attractive, respectable, wealthy. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find a decent woman to marry you.”

“Thank you for the glowing praise,” he said. He looked heavenward and sighed. “It is not that I am averse to marriage altogether, but…” he trailed off.

“But you have not met anyone you wish to be married to?”

“Yes.”

“A wise choice, Cousin. Marriage is for life; it’s better to frustrate your family a little now than frustrate yourself for the remainder of your life.”

“I cannot disagree with you.”

“Take it from a woman who has been married some time now. Your choice of partner may be the most important decision you make in life. There is so little we have control over. We know not when or where we will be born or die, if we will have children or how many,” she said with a rub to her belly. “So much is left to chance. This is one arena where you may exercise some discretion. I suggest you take it.”

“Did you learn that in a tent in Portugal?” he teased her.

“You may laugh, but some of the happiest times of my life were spent in Portugal, splattered with mud, bone tired, alone in a tent with Henry. I can’t imagine being half as happy in the same circumstances with anyone else.” She watched her cousin’s thoughtful expression for a moment. “May you find a woman you wouldn’t mind spending months in a tent with.” She smiled and left him to his thoughts.