Welcome everyone! To the second stop of Gail McEwen's, Stronger Even Than Pride Blog Tour. Kindly brought to you by Jakki at Leatherbound Reviews.
Gail has kindly shared an excerpt of her new book and after reading it, I am very eager to read some more!!!
So without further ado I will hand you over to Gail.
My Kids… Excerpt
First, a little background: In Pride
and Prejudice, when Elizabeth reads the letter pressed upon her in the grove at
Rosings Park, it is the turning point in her opinion of both her own cleverness
and of Mr Darcy’s character. My premise for Stronger Even Than Pride is simple
– what if Elizabeth Bennet was a little too
obstinate and headstrong to continue reading past the letter’s blunt and bitter
beginning? What if she did not continue on to learn the truth about Mr Wickham?
In this book, I took away the “Hunsford moment” for both of them and tried to
follow the aftermath to it’s logical conclusion. The journey is not easy, but
the outcome is inevitable—how could it be otherwise for two people destined to
be together?
To set the scene – it is winter in
London; our two main characters find themselves at the same party after not
having seen each other since an uncomfortable misunderstanding at Jane and
Bingley’s wedding the previous spring. Darcy has convinced himself that his
feelings for Elizabeth were nothing more than a fleeting infatuation. Elizabeth
has found herself in an unhappy marriage to a profoundly selfish and shallow
man, though she tries her best to put on a happy front for the world. Our hero
enters the room and…
~~~~~~~~
Darcy froze in the doorway, his
heart in his throat. He had braced himself to encounter Wickham, but Elizabeth…
For some reason he had not thought Wickham would bring his wife, and the sight
of her hit him unexpectedly hard. But it was no matter, he reminded himself; she
meant nothing to him. He watched her as she stood smiling and laughing beside
Mrs Bingley and several other ladies. Her eyes glittered with that familiar
gleam of light-hearted mischief, and his mouth twitched involuntarily in
response. Nothing. She is nothing to me. He looked behind
him at the men’s tables where Wickham was engrossed in his game, throwing money
into the pot with abandon. He turned back to look for signs of disillusionment
on his wife’s part, prepared to find satisfaction at the sight, when he noticed
his sister among the group of conversing ladies.
A brief panic overcame him. He had
only agreed to let Georgiana attend the party after repeated assurances that
she was quite past any feelings of distress over George Wickham and would be perfectly
fine even if she should see him. She had added excitedly that her dear friends
the Franklins were sure to be there, and she was determined to introduce them
at last. He crossed the room, telling himself that, although his sister
appeared to be perfectly composed and comfortable, she must feel some distress
at being so close to Wickham’s wife. Before he reached them, however, they were
approached by a young man. He paused, watching as Georgiana performed the
introductions and, after a few moments of conversation, allowed the man to
escort her to the refreshment table. Was this the Mr Robert Franklin he had
heard so much about? But the thought was fleeting because suddenly he was
standing before Elizabeth, and of the hundreds of things he wanted to say, of
all the questions he wanted to ask, only one was appropriate.
“Mrs Wickham.” He bowed stiffly. “I
hope you are well?”
“Mr Darcy,” she gasped. “I am well,
thank you, but it appears that I am destined to be surprised by Darcys this
evening.”
“Then forgive me for startling you.”
She nodded, and they stood awkwardly in silence. “I saw you speaking to my
sister just now,” he at last ventured. “Am I to understand that, as a Darcy,
you found her surprising, too?”
“I did, I confess, but very
pleasantly so.” Elizabeth smiled. “In fact, I found her delightful.”
“And that surprises you?”
“Perhaps,” was all she replied, but
her eyes twinkled as she took a drink from the glass she held.
“I see.” He sniffed.
“That can only mean, of course, that you expected her to be a copy of me, whom you do not find
delightful.”
“I think I must have,” she admitted.
“After all, you are all I know of the Darcy family.”
“Well, perhaps now your frankness
surprises me. You might at least have
pretended to disagree with my assessment.”
She looked at him archly. “You have
accused me, on at least one occasion, of professing opinions that are not my
own. I have to wonder how you can be certain I am not doing so at this very
moment.”
A picture flashed through his mind:
Elizabeth sitting at the pianoforte next to his cousin; he approached them, she
teased, and then he had made that very accusation. In hindsight, he understood;
that was the moment he knew his initial attraction to Miss Bennet had become
something deeper and stronger. No matter what might have happened afterwards,
he could still recall the rush of relief that arose within him when he had at
last admitted those feelings to himself. He remembered the almost giddy
expectation of happiness he anticipated once he could declare those feelings.
The recollection was so strong and present, he could not help but smile. “As I
told you then, I am not afraid of you.”
“Nor should you be. My opinions can
be of little interest or import to you now.”
“On the contrary. In fact, I would
beg you to clarify one thing in particular. Am I now to infer that you did not
find my sister delightful after all?”
“You may. But knowing your sister as
you do, you might just as easily infer the opposite.”
“Mrs Wickham, I—” he stopped, smiled,
and shook his head. She was obviously teasing him. Just like at Rosings.
Against his will, his heart jumped, but then he wondered about her motives. Yes, she was teasing; what he did not
know was her purpose in doing so. Were her kind words about Georgiana a way of
letting him know that she had kept his secret safe? Or was he, as before,
wanting to see something that was not there? Needing to regain control, he held
her gaze steadily, searching her eyes for a hint of either mischief or
understanding until she faltered and looked away.
That was better.
“We are quite different,” he said
carefully after a pregnant silence, “Georgiana and I. I hate to think that
anyone’s poor opinion of me would colour their estimation of my sister’s
worth.”
She stared at him incredulously for
a moment before bursting into laughter.
“Far be it from me to judge a
person’s worth on the basis of the behaviour of his or her family!”
“I suppose I deserved that.”
“You did, but I am indisposed to
hold grudges tonight, so I shall venture to say in all frankness that I found
Miss Darcy to be a pleasant and very handsome young woman. I shall go even
further to say that, despite your efforts to minimise it, I find the family
resemblance quite striking.”
He wished he possessed the easy
humour of his cousin Fitzwilliam so he could cleverly remark upon her
inadvertent admission that she found him pleasant and handsome as well, but he
did not. Instead, he was forced to simply smile and nod. Then reflect. Then
carefully study her face once more. Was
it an inadvertent admission? How could it be? This was no young girl beside
him, flattered and blinded by a man’s attentions and grown incautious in the
heady atmosphere of her first night out, nor
had he ever known her to speak carelessly, however pointed her observations might
be. This was a woman who looked at him with challenge in her eyes, fully aware
of her words and the impression they conveyed. He wanted to ask what she meant,
but the question was ludicrous.
“How do you like London?” was what
came out instead when he managed to tear his eyes from hers.
“Not at all.” Her good humour
diminished slightly. “Tonight excepted, I have found the society in town to be
infinitely more confined and unvarying than any to be found in Hertfordshire.”
“I suppose it is to be expected that
you would not be much out in company when one is newly…” He bit back the word.
“New. That is, when one is new in town.”
“True, true,” she said absently. “I
suppose I do not much like being…new.” Taking a sip of her wine, she added, “In
town. Town life…is not at all what I expected.”
She sighed, giving him the strong
impression that she was saying less than she meant, meaning more than she said.
“It seems to suit you,” he blundered
forward. “You look very well.”
“Mr Darcy, you once declared that
you could not abide disguise of any sort. Why should you abandon that principle
now for the sake of offering empty flattery?”
Something came over him, something
akin to the giddiness he had felt that day at Rosings. “On the day of your
sister’s wedding you offered me your hand in friendship,” he said impulsively.
“I was regrettably prevented from accepting it, but I ask you—was the offer
sincere?”
She stared at him, confusion in her
eyes.
“It was.”
“Will you offer it again?”
Wordlessly she held out her hand.
A feeling almost electrical
travelled up his arm as he took it, and he needed a deep breath to calm
himself.
“Then please, as a friend, do me the
courtesy of believing me when I tell you that you look very well indeed. You
are, in fact, quite beautiful.”
She stared at him then dropped her
eyes to their two hands touching.
“I am not what I was.”
“No,” he said huskily, bringing her
hand to his mouth. “You are more. Much more.”
~~~~~~~~
Well I do not know about you, but I for one, need to know where this story is heading!!
Thank you Gail for allowing us a snippet of your new book, it was certainly enticing! I wish you well with the rest of the Blog Tour. The Blog Tour includes an interview, guest posts, reviews, and giveaways! Details of the Blog Tour can be found at the bottom of the page.
Gail McEwen Bio
It took a few decades, but Gail finally
took her English teacher’s advice and “became a writer.” It’s not that she
didn’t want to be a writer – she always
wanted to be a writer – she just didn’t know how to go about it. Because,
truthfully, if one is going to write, one must eventually allow others to read what
has been scribbled in that notebook shoved in the back of the drawer.
Gail eventually worked up enough nerve to
share her efforts with the anonymous world of the internet, after that she
ventured out to college classes, writing contests, and eventually found a
publisher.
Gail’s newest book, Stronger Even Than Pride, is a wicked twist on Jane Austen’s Pride
and Prejudice.
Depending on your measure, her success is
either modest or phenomenal – while she is in no danger of growing either rich
or famous, she is a published, award-winning author! Gail chooses the latter
yardstick.
So it just goes to show – you should always
listen to your teachers.
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