Excerpt & Giveaway! Crossroads - A New Release by MJ Stratton

 Hello Dear Readers! I am back again with another excerpt to share with you, this time from fellow author and dear friend MJ Stratton. Her ninth release, Crossroads, is a collection of three novellas, releasing tomorrow on Kindle. 

What Became of Miss Mary King

          Miss Mary King was whisked away to Liverpool by her uncle, thus escaping the clutches of Mr. Wickham. What became of the heiress once removed from the fortune-hunting cad that wished to marry her?

          In Liverpool, she struggles with sadness and regret, battling the memories of what occurred in Meryton and resenting the fortune that made her so gullible a target for the charming rogue that stole her heart.

          This story completes Mary’s saga as she learns to trust and love again.

At First Slight

          What happens when an angry fairy takes offense to Mr. Darcy’s insult of one of his favorite mortals?

          Eros and his bride, Psyche, boasted many names over the eons, but their purpose has always been the same: unite mortals with the potential for love and see them off to their happy endings. Their magic draws them about to the moment possibly lovers are fated to meet. The magic guides them as they aid the couples.

          But what happens when Eros is angered by Mr. Darcy’s cruel words to Elizabeth? He takes matters into his own hands, of course, bumbling and erring the entire way. After acting impulsively, he and his bride must work to correct the course before Elizabeth and Darcy lose their chance at a happy ending forever.

A Change of Outcomes

          What would happen if Lydia Bennet, while snooping in her sister’s room, discovered Lizzy’s letter from Darcy before going to Brighton? How would her perception of Mr. Wickham’s attentions change?

          Lydia goes to Brighton with eyes wide open, and instead of falling for Mr. Wickham’s charm, chooses a steadier path. Her friendship with Harriet Forster takes a different turn, and she sees life and marriage in an entirely new way. But Mr. Wickham seems determined to win her good opinion, much to Lydia’s vexation. Will she get her own happy ending, or will she remain the vapid, foolish child she has always been?

All of these sound delightful and intriguing - the excerpt MJ is sharing today already has me eager for more!

Excerpt From What Became of Miss Mary King

Meryton

          Miss Mary King was the orphaned child of a respectable tradesman. Her dear mama, a gentleman’s daughter of some fortune, had been cut off from her family after marrying so far beneath herself, but she had cared not a jot. Mary had many happy memories of her father and mother before their unfortunate demise, and she cherished each one.

          Mary’s guardianship was shared with her father’s brother and sister. Her uncle, Mr. Josiah King, was in trade as her father had been and was quite well off. He dwelt in Liverpool and saw Mary but rarely. Her aunt, Miss Martha King, with whom she lived most of the time, was a spinster who lived in a small cottage in the village of Meryton. Mary was pleased to stay with her Aunt Martha; the lady was unassuming and not as strict as her uncle.

          Having lived with her aunt for four years, Mary was well established with the young ladies of the area. She was a happy, genuine sort of girl, able to make friends and keep them with alacrity. In turn, the young ladies of the area found her to be kind and courteous with nary a mean bone in her body.

          Miss Mary King was ‘out’ in the country society in which she lived, though her uncle had promised her a season in Town upon her eighteenth birthday. Her cheerful disposition made her a popular dance partner at local assemblies, and she even had the distinction of partnering with Mr. Charles Bingley, the newest resident of Netherfield Park.

          The militia encamped in the area also proved to be diverting, and Mary had a plethora of amiable companions from among their ranks. None showed more than a passing interest in her person; however, Mary was content to enjoy their company for what it was, happy in the knowledge that she would have her season in Town within the next year.

          Her prospects changed suddenly when word reached her that she had inherited a sum of ten thousand pounds from her estranged grandfather. Such was a shock, for she had never so much as received even one letter from the man who had so cruelly disowned her mother. The money, her grandfather’s solicitor assured her, was her mother’s very own dowry, denied her in consequence of her rebellion, and willed to her daughter in light of her mother’s passing.

          Mary was thrilled, and her aunt had no hesitation in telling her dearest friends of the news. Before two days had passed, the news that Miss Mary King was now in possession of a fortune had spread through the town. Suddenly, she was everyone’s favorite. The ladies were pleased for their friend while simultaneously being quite jealous of her good fortune. The gentlemen, including those of the militia, were quick to go from mere friendship to wanting to court her, and soon Mary was overwhelmed with the attention. She was flattered, for she was not the sort of girl to inspire such affection in a man. Despite knowing in her heart that it was her fortune and not her person that drew their interest, she reveled in it.

          And then Lieutenant George Wickham presented himself to her, and with careful flattery, tempted her away from all others. His words awoke in her the tender feelings of first love, and she soon found herself engaged.

          Mary’s aunt readily granted her permission, but her uncle’s consent and blessing were also required before a wedding could take place. Mary’s aunt quickly penned a missive to Josiah King, and Mary awaited the post every day in hopes of receiving a reply. Her uncle was slow to respond, prompting her aunt to send another letter. Mary continued to watch for his reply, growing discouraged when he failed to do so. It was with great shock when he appeared at the door to the little cottage one fine, April day, hat in hand and with a grim look on his face.

          “Uncle!” Mary cried in delight, throwing her arms about the tall, sturdy gentleman. “You are here! Pray, come with me to my aunt. She is in the sitting room.”

          Mr. King returned her embrace and allowed Mary to lead him into the other room where his sister was stitching steadily at the embroidery in her hand.

          “Brother!” Miss King said in surprise. “What brings you such a distance with no word of your coming?”

          Mr. King held up a letter that Mary immediately recognized as the missive begging her uncle for his permission for her to wed. “I wish to inquire about the gentleman our niece wishes to wed,” he said steadily. Mary was not sure what alerted her to her uncle’s feelings on the matter, but she suddenly felt unaccountably nervous.

          “Mr. Wickham is a lieutenant in the local militia,” Miss King replied, turning her eyes back to her work. “He is handsome and well-favored. His manners are divine, and he is absolutely besotted with our niece!”

          “Is he, now?” Mr. King said softly. “Tell me, has he another career besides that of a militia officer? Or is he heir to his father’s estate?”

          “Neither,” Miss King said, still unaware of the dangerous tone in her brother’s voice. “He has been dealt a most dreadful hand by the son of his former benefactor.”

          “Yes, Uncle!” cried Mary. “He was to have a living, but when it came vacant, he was denied.”

          “Oh, a churchman, is he?” her uncle replied. “Tell me, why does he not have a curacy or another living? A charming, handsome man such as you tell me of would surely have found a position by now.”

          Mary frowned, considering his words. “I am sure he has a reason,” she said carefully.

          “Oh, I am certain he does,” Mr. King replied sardonically. “What else do you know of the man?”

          “He is kind to me,” Mary said weakly. She was beginning to think her uncle did not wish her to marry Mr. Wickham.

          “Can he support a wife and family on his income without the aid of your dowry?” her uncle asked sharply.

          “I… I cannot tell you,” Mary whimpered. The glower that crossed Mr. King’s face was fearsome to behold.

          “I have come to Meryton to ascertain this man’s worthiness,” Mr. King thundered. “I am far from impressed, as it stands.”

          Miss Martha King finally looked up, shock crossing her face. “Why, Josiah,” she said in shock, “do you not trust my opinion and judgment?”

          “A man with a smooth tongue and a handsome face can deceive even the cleverest of folk,” her brother replied. “I shall return for the evening meal, but I will not waste time. I mean to go about the business of gathering information on this Mr. Wickham. If he is a profligate spender, I shall know before the sun sets.”

          He strode from the room and Mary sank into the chair next to her aunt and put her face in her hands.

          “What just occurred?” she asked. “I thought Uncle would be pleased that he would not need to go through the expense of a season in Town.”

          “We shall simply have to wait for him to make his judgments,” Miss King said sagely. “My brother has never been one to listen to reason. He always comes to his own conclusions in his own time.”

          Mary nodded silently and said nothing. It seemed to her as if her hopes and dreams of wedding a handsome, amiable gentleman who loved her were falling to pieces before her very eyes.

 

          Mr. King returned just as the maid was setting the meal on the table. His presence seemed to fill the space, for Josiah King was six feet tall, broad shouldered and fit. His face sported a thick and curly brown beard, and his normally cheerful green eyes, eyes so like hers and her father’s, were cold.

          They settled themselves at the table without a word, dismissing the maid to eat in the kitchen while they dined. After some length of time eating in silence, Mary spoke.

          “Did your business in Town come to a satisfactory conclusion?” she asked hesitantly.

          “I acquired the knowledge I sought,” he answered before taking another bite of soup.

          “Might I ask… please, will you not tell me what you discovered?” Mary pressed.

          Mr. King stopped eating and placed his utensils on the plate before him. He wiped his mouth on his serviette and faced his niece.

          “Do you know the income of a militia officer?” he asked her.

          “I do not,” Mary replied, “though I imagine it to be enough to support a man. Colonel Forster has a wife, too. It cannot be so little.”

          “A militia officer is required to own land, or be heir to land, that provides an income of at least fifty pounds per annum,” her uncle continued. “Their military pay covers their basic expenses, but nothing more. The rank of an officer is determined by the land owned by the family. For example, a captain must either be heir to land with an income of four hundred pounds per year or possess his own property worth at least two hundred pounds per year. His militia pay is separate from that income.

          “This is problematic for your Mr. Wickham, for by your own admission, he does not own land, or an estate, meaning he does not have the requisite fifty pounds a year in income. Yet, he is a lieutenant. The information I have gathered suggests that Mr. Wickham was given the rank of junior officer because of his gentleman’s education. I have also learned that his friend, Captain Denny, aided Mr. Wickham in acquiring his commission. Another gentleman paid his way, giving him fifty pounds to serve in his place.”

          Her uncle paused for a moment, but Mary remained silent. When she made no reply, he went on.

          “With the stipend for signing on and the monies from the commission, Mr. Wickham ought to be set up for some time, if he were prudent with his wages,” Mr. King continued. “Instead of finding such, I have discovered that the man has run up debts with nearly every merchant in town. His account at the local inn is particularly dear. In fact, his spending is such that he is now several hundred pounds in arrears about Meryton.”

          Mary swallowed. She knew what was to come. Her uncle would lecture her about how tenuous the finances of a merchant were, how even a few shillings here and there would add up quickly, and debts being paid on time were the difference between a man being able to feed his family or them going without.

          “The patterns I observed have me greatly worried, my dear,” he said, reaching out to caress Mary’s cheek. “I would be doing you a disservice if I allowed this engagement to continue, and I would be betraying the trust my brother put in me.”

          “But Josiah,” Miss King spoke up. “How can you be so sure of your conclusions after only an afternoon?”

          “You make a fair point,” he said steadily. “Shall we see what your gentleman does if I give him the terms of my approval?”

          “What terms?” Mary asked curiously.

          “He must wait until you have had a season in London, and he must also have a position which provides enough of an income to care for a family without your dowry. I am certain that he can find work as a curate with little effort. It will not be enough, but it is a start. He is ordained, is he not?”

          “I… I do not know,” Mary confessed.

          “Very well, we shall have to inquire,” Mr. King said. “I will also require that your inheritance be tied up in such a way that he cannot have access to the principle and that you will have at least fifty pounds per annum for your own use, separate from the household expenses.”

          “You are not being fair!” Mary cried.

          “I am being completely reasonable and responsible,” he replied. “Your aunt lives here in relative comfort, due to my generosity. Tell us, Martha, how much is it to run such a household? You have two bedchambers, a kitchen, a sitting room, and a parlor. You also have a maid of all work, a cook, and a manservant.”

          “You know very well what my situation costs,” his sister replied. “The bills are sent to you.”

          “Indeed, they are,” Mr. King said crisply. He then addressed his niece. “Let us consider the annual income required to maintain this home, shall we? The maid of all work is sixteen pounds, and the cook and the manservant are twenty each. Food and other necessities come to several hundred pounds. This includes fabric and accoutrements for gowns, candles, linens, meat, milk, and more. Some monies are saved in various ways that I shall not bore you with, but for you to live as you do now, you would need nearly three hundred pounds a year, unless you were willing to forgo quite a few comforts. That amount is before you begin to have children. The interest from your dowry is four hundred a year. Your Mr. Wickham has already demonstrated his love of spending; do you think he would be able to subsist within the parameters I have set?”

          Tears were streaming down Mary’s face as she listened to her uncle go on. He did not intend to grant his permission, that much was clear.

          “I think you underestimate him!” she cried angrily. “Mr. Wickham is a good man and will abide by your strictures!”

          “And if I agree to let you marry him and he does not?” Mr. King said quietly. “What then? I will not be able to save you. You will be his in every way; body, money, property. You will be little more than chattel, subject to his whims and fancies. No, I do not think it worth the risk.”

          “Will you not even meet him before deciding?” Mary protested. “I am certain he will surprise you.”

          “By all means, let him come so that I might test him. If he is willing to abide by the terms, we shall make a betrothal contract, subject to termination if he should ever not meet any of my ‘strictures,’ as you call them. When might we expect the man?”

          “He will visit tomorrow,” Mary replied, a spark of hope blossoming in her chest. Wickham would prove her uncle wrong. He loved her.

          “Then I shall make my determination then,” he said. “I shall even include you in the conversation so that you may know I have been honest and fair.”

          Mr. King returned to his meal and the three finished their dinner in silence. Then, Mary went to bed; eager for the morrow, certain that Mr. Wickham would exceed all her uncle’s expectations.

          Mr. Wickham arrived promptly at one o’clock, just as he had done every Tuesday and Thursday since he began to court her in earnest. He looked dashing in his red coat, doffing his hat and bowing deeply over her hand.

          “My dear Miss King,” he said smoothly. “How the hours have tormented me since I last went away.”

          Mary felt her cheeks blush red as she returned the greeting. A throat cleared behind her, and she turned to note her uncle standing in the doorway, his hands clasped tightly behind him and a frown on his face.

          “Mr. Wickham, might I introduce to you my uncle, Mr. Josiah King?” she asked, her voice wavering a bit at the sight of her uncle’s displeasure. “Uncle, this is Mr. George Wickham.”

          “How delightful to finally make your acquaintance, sir!” Mr. Wickham said cheerfully. “Miss King has told me much about you. It is kind of you to come all this way to grant your blessing to our union.”

          “My consent and my blessing are yet to be bestowed,” Mr. King said firmly. “Come, let us go to the parlor so that we might converse in greater comfort.”

          He held out his arm to Mary, and she took it, glancing over at Mr. Wickham with an apologetic look. He moved them the short distance to the parlor and seated Mary in one of the comfortable chairs, rather than on the settee, doubtlessly so Wickham could not sit next to her. She saw through his motives immediately and frowned.

          “Now then, Mr. Wickham,” Mr. King said when they were all seated. “I understand you wish to marry my niece.”

          “I do,” Wickham said passionately. “I am bewitched by her beauty and grace, and her tender heart. Miss King is everything I have ever wished for in a bride, and I cannot be happy without her.”

          “Such sentiments are prettily said,” he answered quietly. “I am not ignorant of my niece’s charms, of course, and will not denigrate her by pointing out the shallowness of your supposed passion. Let us go to business then. What is your occupation to be once your service to the militia has expired? Mary says you were to have a living at one time. No doubt you have taken orders and are only in want of another.”

          “Well…” Wickham said awkwardly, tugging at his cravat. “I have not, as yet, taken orders.”

          “Then it is no wonder your benefactor could not bestow the living upon you when it fell vacant!” Mr. King cried. “Have you completed much time at the seminary? Perhaps you might sell out of the militia and finish your training.”

          “I… No, I have not,” Wickham muttered.

          “You have not what?” Mr. King pressed. “Attended seminary?”

          “Indeed,” Wickham said gruffly.

          “Very well. Then what do you intend to do to support my niece?”

          “I have my officer’s pay,” Wickham said weakly.

          “A paltry sum that could not keep her in the manner to which she is accustomed,” Mr. King said dismissively. “I might be able to provide an occupation for you. I have positions open in my warehouse open that could use a good, strapping man.”

          Mary looked up hopefully and noted the look of distaste that crossed Wickham’s face before fading into a look of gratitude that seemed false.

          “I could never imagine taking such advantage of you,” he said calmly.

          “It is not taking advantage if it is offered. I imagine you could sell your commission and come work for me. Then, after Mary has had a season in Town, we can discuss the marriage arrangements.”

          “You will not let me marry her?” Wickham asked desperately. “We love each other!”

          “Love tested is love proved. Come work for me for a year. I shall pay you a fair wage and even include room and board. You can set aside funds, proving that your love is for my niece and not her ten thousand pounds, and Mary can have her taste of London.”

          “You would deny the dearest wish of your niece’s heart?” Wickham cried. “You would put her in the position where she must choose between the man she loves and her family, just as her mother was forced to!”

          Mr. King’s expression became positively frightening as he glowered at Mr. Wickham. “You walk dangerous ground,” he growled. “My dear sister-in-law was five and twenty when she made her choice. She had already had six seasons in Town and thus knew what she wanted when she found it. She married my brother knowing she would not see a penny of her dowry. Would you do the same for my niece? Would you marry her knowing you would never see more than the interest from her ten thousand pounds?”

          Mr. Wickham’s jaw worked, and a stormy expression fell on his face.

          “It is reasonable,” Mary said, reaching across the small space between their chairs. She took his hand and squeezed. He did not return her grasp, pulling away instead.

          “You have made your sentiments perfectly clear,” Mr. Wickham said, standing abruptly. “I shall leave and never darken your door again.”

          “Then you do not deserve her,” Mr. King said flatly, shaking his head.

          Mary turned toward her suitor, willing him in her mind to defend their love against her relative. The lieutenant’s words were anything but comforting. “Who does?” Wickham said caustically. “Nasty, freckled thing that she is.”

          Mary gasped and her uncle stood abruptly. Tears began to fall unbidden.

          “You will leave now,” Mr. King said dangerously. “Be grateful that I will not call you to account for your ungentlemanly conduct.”

Mr. Wickham departed forthwith, saying nothing more to any of the occupants of the small cottage.

I can't wait to read more of this novella, and the other two sound just as promising! Crossroads is available for preorder now, releasing tomorrow!

Author Bio:

MJ Stratton is a long-time lover of Jane Austen and her works, having been introduced to Pride and Prejudice by a much-beloved aunt at the age of sixteen. The subsequent discovery of Austenesque fiction sealed her fate. After beta reading and editing for others for nearly a decade, MJ started publishing her own work in 2022. MJ balances being a wife and mother with writing, gardening, sewing, and many other favorite pastimes. She lives with her husband and four children in the small, rural town where she grew up.