The Husbands of Elizabeth Bennet - Guest Post from Christine Combe

I am excited to once again host a guest post from my fellow JAFF author, Christine Combe! She's sharing an excerpt my interest is definitely piqued....

 

Thank you for having me, Jayne — I am so very happy to be stopping by today. I am very excited to be visiting But Do Not Faint once again to promote not just one but two new books! The Husbands of Elizabeth Bennet is a two-part story of Elizabeth’s relationships with two very different men.

 

In volume one…

 

In volume two…

 

 

Now, here’s a little sneaky peek at volume 2…

 

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“Mamma?”

Elizabeth started at the sound of Harry’s voice from behind her. Praying he did not notice he’d startled her from her woolgathering, she forced a smile to her lips and turned around to greet him. “Harry! To what do I owe this visit to my bedchamber?”

“It’s time for breakfast, Mamma. Aren’t you coming?”

“Of course!” said Elizabeth as she stood. “Forgive me if I am tardy.”

Harry looked up at her—not that he had far to lift his eyes, as he was already five feet tall. Elizabeth mused—not for the first time—that he was sure to be as tall, if not taller, than his father.

“Were you thinking about Papa? I know it … it was a year ago today he died,” Harry said softly.

Elizabeth nodded. “I was,” she confessed. “I miss him very much.”

Harry sighed and looked down. “I miss him, too.”

Reaching to caress her son’s cheek, Elizabeth said, “I know it has been a very difficult year for our family, Harry, but I want to tell you how very proud of you I am. You have had to bear so much at such a young age, but you have done so with a remarkable strength of character. Your father would be proud of you as well, for being so strong for your brother and sisters.”

“And for you, Mamma,” Harry added. “I’m the head of the family now—I have to be strong.”

A pang of sorrow and pride bloomed in her chest, and Elizabeth could not but take a step forward to embrace him. Harry’s arms slowly rose to encircle her waist as she said, “You also have to be a boy, Harry. You have many years ahead of you before you have to take on the responsibilities of being head of the family. Let me handle those concerns, and you just worry about doing well in your lessons or riding your pony—or losing again at spillikins.”

Harry stepped back instantly—he hated to lose at games. “I’ll win next time, Mamma,” said he. “I’ve been practicing with Tom and Bella.”

Elizabeth grinned and slipped her arm about his shoulders, and guided her son toward the door as she said, “Then shall we have a game after breakfast?”

“I should like that, Mamma.”

Following a somewhat subdued breakfast with all four of her children—Isabella and Tom also acknowledged it had been a year since the loss of their father and spoke little, though an excitable Meg was attended by her nurse—the family of five moved into the morning room. A servant was sent to fetch the spillikins game and Isabella also asked the girl to fetch her sketchbook and pencils, a request that had Elizabeth turning her head.

Isabella, who was the fraternal twin of Harry, had shown remarkable skill at artistry from the time she could hold a pencil or paintbrush. Sadly, her creative zest had been dimmed by sorrow when her father had died, and it had been an entire year since she had drawn or painted anything. That she had asked for her sketching things warmed Elizabeth’s heart and gave her hope that her daughter’s own heartbreak was healing.

After deciding to give Isabella the table, she and Harry sat on the rug before the hearth for their game. Elizabeth had just dropped the sticks into their mixed-up pile when the pocket doors to the hall opened to reveal Quincy, the butler, who announced,

“The Reverend Sir Robert and Lady Winstead, Mr. Winstead, Miss Winstead, and Miss Winstead to see you, Your Ladyship.”

“Auntie Mary!” cried Meg, who could just see her aunt behind Quincy, as she clapped her hands together in excitement.

“Do show them in, Quincy,” said Elizabeth as she stood.

The butler bowed and opened the doors wider, then stepped aside to allow her sister’s family to enter the room. Greetings were exchanged between the adults and the children with smiles and hugs before Elizabeth asked, “What brings you to the castle today?”

Robert smiled again. “We took the children for a ride in the carriage and as we were passing by, thought we should drop in and pay our respects,” said he.

Elizabeth lifted an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “My dear brother, your house is three miles away. A short drive to entertain your children would not bring you this far, I am sure.”

Mary sent her husband a sideways look that clearly said, I told you so, then replied in a soft, caring voice, “We came to keep you company for a while, as I know it will be a difficult day for you.”

Unexpected tears pooled behind her eyes and Elizabeth felt her chest constrict. Tipping her head back, she blinked rapidly to dispel the moisture before it fell and drew a shaking breath.  She ought to have known Mary would come.

Looking back at her sister and brother-by-marriage, she forced a weak smile. “Our anniversary the other day was a great deal harder on me. I had some difficulty even getting out of bed.”

Mary stepped forward and embraced her a second time. “I am sorry I could not come on the 2nd, Lizzy,” she said. “Robert and I were with the Bensons—as you may know, old Mr. Benson is very ill—”

“It’s quite all right, dearest,” Elizabeth assured her. “You were doing your duty as a parson and his wife.”

Mary glanced at Robert, then they both nodded. “True enough. Now let me do my duty as a sister. Let us go into your study and have a talk, shall we?”

Mary was speaking as a sister but using her “kind parson’s wife” voice, and Elizabeth realized she did not mind overmuch. She knew it would do her good to talk to someone, which she had done so little of this last year. After Henry’s death, she and the children had followed his body home to Berkshire, where it was interred in the Faulkner family’s private cemetery between his parents and his first wife. They had remained in the country ever since—the longest length of time any of them had lived at Stashwick Castle as they usually spent half the year in London.

With a nod of her head, Mary then moved to her side and linked their arms together. Elizabeth looked to Robert and asked, “You won’t mind sitting with all the children while we talk for a moment, will you?”

He shook his head. “Of course not, sister,” said he. “There might be a legion of little ones here, but I think myself and nurse Agatha can handle it.”

“Mamma, we were supposed to play a game,” protested Harry as Elizabeth and Mary moved toward the door that led into her private study.

“And we will, dearest,” she assured him. “Play with Tom, your uncle, or one of your cousins for a round or two while your aunt and I talk. We won’t be long.”

Harry sighed. “Yes, Mamma. Just don’t forget, please.”

She moved over to him and dipped her head to kiss his brow, her heart squeezing just a little at the hint of vulnerability in his voice. Though she had reminded him earlier that he was just a boy, he had been such a strong and brave lad that she sometimes forgot he was still so very young and in need of reassurance.

“I will not forget my promise,” said she, before moving away to lead Mary into her study.

When the door had closed behind them and the sisters had sat on the sofa along one wall, Mary took Elizabeth’s hand in hers. “Now tell me, how are you really doing?”

Elizabeth heaved a sigh but stifled the groan that attempted to follow. “I am as well as can be expected. It hurts only a little less than it did a year ago to know that my husband is gone. Sometimes I still expect to see him walk out of a room or around a corner—it’s as though my mind has not yet fully accepted what my heart wishes it could forget.”

The tears that she had held back only moments before filled her eyes. After pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve, she dabbed them away and sniffled. “Harry has been such a wonderful young man this last year. He and Isabella both have been marvelous—on days where my grief has consumed me, my children have managed things. My children, Mary! They aren’t supposed to be running the bloody house, that is my duty! They should not be taking care of me; I am supposed to be taking care of them—they must be allowed to mourn their father.”

Mary offered a sad smile, her fuller expression showing that she knew Elizabeth’s emotions were leading her to exaggerate—the butler and housekeeper would have managed the castle during any indisposition of their mistress.

“And I am sure they have, Lizzy,” said she. “Just as much as you have, and in their own way. But do not berate yourself for falling down on occasion—grief is a crushing weight that is a difficult burden for anyone to bear, let alone a mother of four. You need only recall that God is your rock and your fortress, and He is your salvation. Not only from sin, I daresay, but from every earthly sorrow. And remember what a good, compassionate man my brother was; I am certain he will be waiting for you when God calls you to join them both in heaven.”

Elizabeth snorted softly. “And won’t that be an awkward moment, to be greeted by my husband and his first wife.”

Her sister grinned. “I do not doubt such a meeting would be disconcerting, though I should like to imagine it will be full of nothing but love. The first Lady Stashwick was surely happy for Henry that he was able to love again, and grateful to you for helping him complete his healing. She will welcome you as a sister in Christ.”

Elizabeth nodded in silence and wiped away a few more tears that had slipped down her cheeks. Mary cleared her throat delicately.

“Lizzy, I pray that my next question does not offend or upset you, but as we have just spoken of your husband’s first wife… Do you think you will ever consider marrying again, as Henry did?”

With a heavy sigh, Elizabeth replied, “I don’t know, Mary. At this moment, I cannot even begin to imagine meeting another man capable of making me feel a love as deep as I felt for Henry.”

 

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Well now, what do you think of that? Don’t fret over Lizzy’s last words—this is from volume two, and you know she’ll be married to Darcy by the end of the story! Tell me what you think in the comments below and remember to visit each blog on the tour and write down the keyword for each day. Comment on the last blog (All That They Desire) with the sentence the words create to enter for your chance to win print copies of both novels! Contest open worldwide!

 

Keyword: OF

 

If for any reason you cannot comment on the last blog, reach out to Christine via email or Facebook with the full sentence to qualify for the drawing.

Both volumes of The Husbands of Elizabeth Bennet are available in ebook, paperback, and hardcover from Amazon. Also available to read in Kindle Unlimited.

 

Thank you all again for stopping by to learn more about my duet of stories, and thanks again to Jayne for having me!

 

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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:

Email: authorchristinecombe@gmail.com / Blog: All That They Desire / Facebook: Christine Combe