Guest Post by Christine Combe, Author of 'Why I Kissed You'

 

Hello, lovely readers! It's a treat to welcome a familiar face back to the blog with another new release I can't wait to read!

Thank you, Jayne. I am very excited to be visiting But Do Not Faint to promote another new book! My latest Austenesque venture, Why I Kissed You, is a Pride and Prejudice story in which Darcy and Elizabeth find themselves forced to marry.

That's one of my favorite tropes in JAFF - I like it already! Let's hear a little more....

Although she vehemently refuses the marriage proposal of Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth Bennet soon learns that an unexplainable moment of passion that occurred between them has led a furious Lady Catherine de Bourgh to demand she be thrown out of Mr. Collins’ house!

Fitzwilliam Darcy, although his pride was wounded by Elizabeth’s rejection, finds he cannot allow her to be harmed by his aunt’s fanciful ambition for a marriage between him and her daughter. Fearing further action may be taken to damage Elizabeth’s reputation, he knows that marriage is the only form of protection he can offer her.

Elizabeth and Darcy travel to London to begin the arrangements for a wedding that for all intents and purposes shouldn’t be taking place. In the midst of shopping for wedding clothes, sharing the news with family, and meeting Darcy’s noble relatives, Elizabeth is coming to learn more about who Darcy really is than she ever knew before. At the same time, Darcy is navigating the intricacies of realizing how wrong it is to interfere in the lives of others and how to deserve forgiveness from a friend.

Though they act quickly to begin a new life together where one person is in love and the other now unsure of their feelings, Elizabeth and Darcy can’t stop one final attempt to keep them apart forever. But faith and love—and a little bit of luck—will play their part in determining whether there is a chance to pursue the happily ever after that both of them desperately want.

Hopefully that blurb is intriguing to the readers out there. As a further draw, here is part of chapter two. You will, admittedly, recognize much of this—I turned Darcy’s letter to Elizabeth into a conversation!

I know I'm intrigued! Hooray, an excerpt, too!

***

Elizabeth spent the whole of the evening and half the night in a state of continual agitation and vexation.

After Mr. Darcy’s quitting the parsonage, the tumult of her mind had been so painfully great that she’d felt genuinely weak and had needed the support of a chair. Immediately upon falling into the nearest one, she had cried for half an hour. Every review of what had passed increased her astonishment—she had received an offer of marriage from Mr. Darcy! He had been in love with her all these months, so much that he could no longer ignore the objections which had led him to prevent Bingley’s marrying her sister. It was incredible—and yes, gratifying—that she had inspired, even unconsciously, so strong an affection.

And he had kissed her! More than that, she had kissed him back—what on Earth had possessed her to do so?! Much to her surprise, she had liked being kissed by him. It frightened her to think what enjoying the kiss meant and reminded her that she was no less guilty than he, so she pushed all thoughts of it to the back of her mind to be dealt with later. Or maybe never.

 What vexed Elizabeth even more than the kiss was Darcy’s pride. Oh, that abominable pride, and his shameless avowal of what he had done in respect to Jane! His conduct there, and the unfeeling manner when mentioning Mr. Wickham—the cruelty he had not even attempted to deny—soon overcame what little pity she had begun to feel for Darcy which the consideration of his attachment had for a moment inspired.

On hearing Lady Catherine’s carriage approaching sometime after, Elizabeth knew she was unequal to Charlotte’s observation, so had hurried to her room. There she remained through dinner and supper, unable to recover her spirits. It was impossible to think of anything else, though on determining to go down to breakfast the next morning, she forced a smile to put off any questions which Charlotte or Maria might ask and proclaimed herself much better. Mr. Collins said nothing as he had been too busy stuffing himself, then he hastened off to Rosings immediately after he finished eating. Still unable to put the events of the previous afternoon from her mind and finding herself quite unequal to any form of useful employment, Elizabeth declared her intention to go for a walk. Mrs. Collins and her sister merely smiled over their needlework, knowing as they did her predilection for long walks.

She found herself proceeding automatically to her favorite path until she recollected that Darcy had often met her there. Though feeling he likely had as little desire to see her again so soon as she did him, Elizabeth nevertheless turned away and went up the lane that led her father from the turnpike road. She had gone two or three times along the lane when tempted by the fine weather of the morning to stop at one of the gates to the park. It was five weeks now that she had been in Kent, and the passage of time had made such a difference in the country that every day was adding to its beauty. It was on the point when she would have continued her walk that she noticed a figure in the grove that edged the park walking toward her. It was a gentleman and, suspecting it to be Mr. Darcy—with whom she still felt herself insufficient in equanimity to meet with—Elizabeth turned away in retreat.

Her steps were not quick enough; it was Darcy, and his calling her name proved he had seen her. Civility halted Elizabeth’s progress and she turned back to him, hoping that her countenance did not show her anxiety.

“Miss Bennet, I am glad to meet you,” said he. “May I walk with you? I have some things I must say.”

Suppressing a sigh, Elizabeth inclined her head. Darcy stepped through the gate, and they started back toward the parsonage in the most awkward silence. A good distance was gone over and still he spoke not a word; she began to wonder if he would speak at all when he said,

“First, I should like to apologize for the kiss. No matter which of us initiated it, we are equally guilty of misconduct.”

Elizabeth sighed—it appeared she would not escape thinking of the kiss after all. The memory surged to the forefront of her thoughts, and she could feel her cheeks heating as she recalled how good it had felt to be held by him, how much she had enjoyed kissing him…and how she had dreamed of kissing him again.

“I will concede on that point, sir. I am sorry as well,” she said.

“Last night you laid to my charge two offences which are by no means equal in measure,” Darcy went on, “and I regret that in explaining my motivations for each action you may again be offended. But I must speak, Miss Bennet.”

So you said, Elizabeth thought sourly. Get on with it, then.

Get on with it he did. Darcy told her in slow, deliberate sentences how he had no real notion of Bingley being genuinely attached to her sister until the ball at Netherfield, as he had often seen his friend in love before. Sir William Lucas’s letting it slip that Bingley’s attentions to Jane had given rise to a general expectation of their marriage had inclined him to observe them both more closely; in his friend, he soon realized that indeed, there was a partiality that he had never seen before. In Miss Bennet, however, he claimed to find no symptom of peculiar regard, though her look and manners were as open and cheerful and engaging as ever they had been.

“I was convinced, from the evening’s scrutiny,” Darcy said, “that though she received his attentions with pleasure, she did not invite them by any participation of sentiment.”

Elizabeth, unable to keep her rising ire in check any longer, stopped and turned to him. “How ridiculous you are!” she cried, raising her hands to her hips. “Are not most women taught almost from birth to be modest in their manner, so they are not labeled as too forward? Do not their mothers tell them that they may smile at a gentleman but do no more unless he has declared his intentions? How is it then when you meet such a woman, who behaves with all the modesty and grace a young lady ought, that she is not demonstrative enough?!”

Darcy blinked and drew a breath as he clasped his hands together behind his back. “If you are not mistaken, then I have been in error. Your superior knowledge of your sister must make the latter probable. If it be so, if I have been misled by such error to inflict pain on her, your resentment has not been unreasonable. But I shall not scruple to assert that the serenity of your sister’s countenance and air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction that, however amiable her temper, her heart was not likely to be easily touched.”

Elizabeth threw up her hands and stalked away from him with a groan; Darcy caught up in only two strides. “Just because she did not put her feelings on display for all the world to see does not mean that my sister did not feel deeply for Mr. Bingley! And he clearly had no thoughts of doubting her regard—or his success—until you suggested it.”

“I did not believe her to be indifferent because I wished it; I believed it on impartial conviction, as truly as I wished it in reason,” Darcy replied.

“Oh yes, and I have already been acquainted with why that is,” Elizabeth snapped. “Your dear friend Miss Bingley was so kind as to inform my sister, for whom she so often professed her affection, that it has long been your desire that your families would be united through the marriage of her brother to your sister.”

This made Darcy stop and stare at her with incredulity. “Miss Bingley said I wished her brother to marry my sister?”

“I have just said so.”

He shook his head. “Then she has greatly misunderstood and will be disappointed. Georgiana is not yet sixteen years old and will not have her debut for another year, perhaps two. And while it is not uncommon for a young lady of society to marry without having a Season in London, my sister will not be such a one. I have introduced her to very few of my friends—and then only those with sisters, in the hope of my sister being friends with theirs and dispelling that tendency toward shyness which we are both of us unfortunately plagued with. I… I do not wish her to suffer among strangers as I do.”

Darcy turned and started off again, and she reluctantly fell into step beside him. “Bingley, as you know, is a very amiable young man. His liveliness is almost universally infectious, and it was my hope in introducing him to my sister that she might be inspired to cheerfulness. That is all. They have met perhaps two or three times since the start of my acquaintance with the Bingleys, and that was two years ago. It would hardly be a kindness to either party to encourage an attachment when the young lady in question is nowhere near mature enough in age or temper to be a wife. The young gentleman, being of an age to wish to marry, can hardly be expected to wait for her.”

He went on to say that his objections to the marriage of Bingley and Jane were not merely those which he had last night acknowledged to have required the utmost force of passion to put aside in his own case; the want of connexion could not be so great an evil to Bingley as to himself. No, there were other causes of repugnance; causes which—though still existing, and existing to an equal degree in both instances—he had endeavoured to forget, because they were not immediately before him. These causes must be stated, he insisted, “though briefly.” Elizabeth listened with a growing mixture of vexation and embarrassment his assertion that the situation of her mother’s family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison of that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed by Mrs. Bennet, her three younger daughters, and occasionally even by Mr. Bennet.

“Pardon me, it pains me to offend you,” said Darcy in a low voice, no doubt in response to her increasing color. “But amidst your concern for the defects of your nearest relations, and your displeasure at this representation of them, let it give you consolation to consider that to have conducted yourselves so as to avoid any share of the like censure is praise no less generally bestowed on you and your eldest sister than it is honourable to the sense and disposition of both. I will only say, farther, that from what passed that evening my opinion of all parties was confirmed, and every inducement heightened, which could have led me before to preserve my friend from what I esteemed a most unhappy connexion.”

Pain again lanced her beneath her breast, and Elizabeth fought the sting of embarrassed tears as she wrapped her arms about herself. Her long hours of reflection after their row had already given her much uneasiness, having been forced to accept that he had some justification for his caution. Her mother and sisters were too often vulgar and uncouth in their behaviour, and in finding too much pleasure in the folly of his wife and daughters to check them, her father only showed the world how little respect or feeling he had for either.

Darcy next spoke of Bingley’s leaving Netherfield for London the day after the ball. Elizabeth recalled his having spoken of his intention to return soon. But his sisters’ uneasiness matching Darcy’s own was soon discovered; and, believing no time was to be lost in detaching their brother, they shortly resolved on joining him directly in London. There the three readily engaged in the office of pointing out to Bingley the certain evils of his choice. Darcy had enforced his belief with assurances of Jane’s being indifferent to him. Bingley had before believed her to return his affection with sincere, if not with equal, regard. But his friend had great natural modesty, Darcy assured her, with a stronger dependence on the latter’s judgment than on his own. To convince Bingley that he had deceived himself was no very difficult point. To persuade him against returning into Hertfordshire, when that conviction had been given, was scarcely the work of a moment.

“I cannot blame myself for having done this much. There is but one part of my conduct, in the whole affair, on which I do not reflect with satisfaction; it is that I condescended to conceal from him your sister’s being in town. I knew it myself, as it was known to Miss Bingley; but her brother is even yet ignorant of it. That they might have met without ill consequence is, perhaps, probable; but his regard did not appear to me enough extinguished for him to see her without some danger. Perhaps this concealment, this disguise, was beneath me. It is done, however, and it was done for the best. If I have wounded your sister’s feelings, it was unknowingly done; and though the motives which governed me may to you very naturally appear insufficient, I have not yet learnt to condemn them.”

Elizabeth’s emotions were again stirred into fury. “Oh, of course you have not,” she said. “You still think your judgment the superior because your position in society is of greater consequence, which only serves to prove my point that you do not care at all about how other people feel—only what you feel is right.”

From the corner of her eye, she noted Darcy reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was vexed with her, she was fairly certain, though she was still too much put out with him to care.

***

Well now… Elizabeth knows the truth about Darcy’s interference with Jane and Bingley. How will she react to learning about Wickham now that she’s hearing it rather than just reading it in a letter? Keep dolling the tour to find out!

 That was a tantalizing snippet, I can't wait to read more. I definitely want to see that kiss - I imagine it happened just as it almost does in the 2005 film. Please tell me there's a rain storm! 

Why I Kissed You is now available from Amazon in eBook, paperback, and hardcover editions! Leave a comment on today’s blog for a chance to win your very own Kindle copy—and follow along on the blog tour for a chance to win a signed paperback! If for any reason you cannot comment on a blog, notify me (Christine) by email and I will be sure to add you to the drawing for the paperback.

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Christine, like many a JAFF author before her, is a long-time admirer of Jane Austen‘s work, and she hopes that her alternate versions are as enjoyable as the originals. She has plans to one day visit England and take a tour of all the grand country estates which have featured in film adaptations, and often dreams of owning one. Christine lives in Ohio and is already at work on her next book.

 

Links:

Blog: All That They Desire

Facebook: Christine Combe

E-mail: authorchristinecombe@gmail.com