"The Cherry Trees of Rosings" by Morgan Blake ~ Blog Tour ~ Excerpt

Hello, my friends! I'm back again with an excerpt from Morgan Blake's new book, The Cherry Trees of Rosings! This looks like a cute story to me, and after reading the first couple of chapters (see below), I'm ready to read on!

The Cherry Trees of Rosings

by Morgan Blake

Publication Date: Oct 30th, 2025

Pages: 180, Kindle Edition

About The Book 

A Pride & Prejudice variation with a slightly paranormal, mainly comic twist! 

When Elizabeth Bennet visits her newly-married friend, Charlotte Collins, at the Hunsford parsonage, she has no idea that Mr. Darcy (he of the arrogant demeanor and perpetual cause of annoyance!) shall turn up to ruin her blissful, idyllic days. 

Only, Mr. Darcy is not himself. 

And then Elizabeth stumbles straight through him one day... like one would an apparition! Goodness gracious! 

 “Mr. Darcy, I do not know what you mean, but I would appreciate it if you would desist from haunting me!” 

 “I apologize, Miss Bennet, for scaring you,” Mr. Darcy said, almost regretfully. 

To solve her haunting problem, Elizabeth must team up with Mr. Darcy to find out what happened to him, and along the way discover that maybe he is not all that he seemed at first. And that maybe...she doesn’t hate him after all. 

 “You wish to write the letter now?” he asked as she moved past him with the candle. 

 “Well, to be honest,” she glanced at him. “I would prefer to sleep. But since you are here, I do not see why not.” 

From the antics of Lady Catherine de Bourgh to the hilarity of Mr. Collins’ advice on staying fit, The Cherry Trees of Rosings shall make you laugh and cry in equal measure. And wonder: Will our favourite couple find their happy ever after? 

Spoiler: Yes, they will! 

This Pride and Prejudice variation features our favourite Regency romance couple from Jane Austen's original classic in a somewhat spooky setup. But fear not, dear readers! This story is not scary in the least. Prepare for a chuckle fest and abundant cups of tea!

 

Excerpt: 

Chapter 1: An Eerie Encounter

Elizabeth Bennet had only been at the Hunsford parsonage for three days when she saw Mr. Darcy under the cherry trees. 

Her heart raced—a quick thump, thump, thump!—as she sped off the walking path to hide behind an ash tree. What was Mr. Darcy doing at Rosings? 

That was when she remembered: he was the esteemed nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. 

Elizabeth had yet to meet the benefactress of her cousin, Mr. Collins—though he spoke of her in practically every sentence, of every conversation, every day. She was certain one would not find a more devout champion of any patron anywhere in the lands if they tried. But she would not have to wait much longer to satisfy her curiosity about the lady. After all, they had received an invitation just that morning to present themselves at Rosings for tea. 

Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Darcy from around the trunk of the ash tree. It appeared she had one less surprise waiting for her in those quarters.

She quickly turned around and started off on a different path for her morning walk.

 

The way she saw it, there was no need to inconvenience the gentleman with frivolous civilities and hellos. He would surely be the last person to welcome such overt social mores.

***

Later that evening…

Elizabeth finished arranging her hair in a simple fashion before stepping out of her room. The rest of the inhabitants of the parsonage were already at the foyer of the cottage.

“Hurry along! Hurry along! Charlotte, Sister Maria, Cousin Elizabeth!” Mr. Collins called. “We must not keep her ladyship waiting!” 

He was sweating profusely. Perhaps at the thought of arriving a few minutes late and having to prostrate at his patroness’ feet. Elizabeth coughed into her hand to cover her smirk as she joined them.

“Oh! What was that?” Mr. Collins asked, turning towards her. “Cousin Elizabeth, are you unwell?” He looked comically red in the face. “Perhaps you should stay behind. Her ladyship has strict rules about bringing disease into the great house!”

Elizabeth barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Though she did arch her eyebrows in amusement.

“I think I swallowed some dust. Nothing to worry about surely.”

“Dust? Did you say dust?” Mr. Collins’ eyes widened. He turned to his wife. “Charlotte! You must tell Mrs. Bishop to be more meticulous! I cannot have her humiliating me if her ladyship visits one day and sees such deplorable state of affairs. You know how…”

Elizabeth tuned out her hapless cousin’s words. It was surely an irony that the man had a housekeeper named Bishop—one who had arrived at the recommendation of Lady Catherine herself—while he worshipped nobody higher than his patroness. She only hoped that Charlotte would not be too vexed at her for stirring up Mr. Collins’ humors. 

“Mr. Collins, I assure you,” Charlotte said, with the patience of a saint once her husband stopped to catch his breath. “I have matters well in hand. Perhaps we should start for Rosings if we wish to arrive on time.”

“Yes, yes, at once!”

 

The party soon left the cottage.

…and reached Rosings, right at the dot of four o'clock.

It never failed to amaze Elizabeth how Mr. Collins managed to arrive everywhere at just the precise hour. But she could not ponder on it too long as they found themselves following the butler (rather briskly), as he led them to the west parlour of the house, where her ladyship was to be found. Though, she did notice—along the way—how unerringly accurate Mr. Collins had been in his description of all the interiors. Right down to the number of stained glass arches above every window set!

“And there, you see, right beside the doors are the prized suits of armour that were gifted to Sir Lewis de Bourgh during his lifetime. By the Earl of Nottingham, no less!” Mr. Collins announced helpfully. “Her ladyship prefers the light in this particular parlour at this time of the day. But not when her gout is acting up.” 

A steady stream of commentary on such matters had accompanied them all the way from the gates of the parsonage. And it did not appear Mr. Collins would stop anytime soon.

 

Elizabeth eyed the armours. They were polished to a shine and clearly well-maintained. So much that she wondered if they might spring to life any moment. But her attention was soon drawn away. 

Because, just then, the butler pushed open the grand doors of the parlour and held up a hand for them to wait.

 

He walked in. Nose in the air.

 

“Mr. Collins and Mrs. Collins are here, your ladyship,” he announced. “As are Mr. Collins’ two relatives.”

Elizabeth felt her eyebrows arch at the excessive ceremony. Then she wondered if she would find Mr. Darcy inside, sitting beside his aunt, and possibly his cousin. All their noses high in the air. Collective disdain palpable at the substandard guests about to enter their inner sanctum.

 

Her lips twitched into a grin.

“Yes, send them in!” A loud—slightly shrill but decisive—voice boomed out from within the parlour. 

It startled Maria Lucas. Enough that she clutched at Charlotte’s arm. But there was no time to offer any reassurances.

They were now very much within the lioness’ den. 

Chapter 2: No Green Beans

“Mr. Collins, you know how I despise green beans!”

 

Lady Catherine’s brows drew down with annoyance as she looked over the tiny list Charlotte had handed her a few moments ago. It was about the gift baskets the Collinses were tasked with distributing for Easter; one of the yearly tasks of the parsonage.

 

“You shall not present that vegetable to the congregation,” she emphasized, mouth twisting into a moue of distaste.

 

Mr. Collins nodded his head vigorously. “Indeed, your ladyship.”

 

“Potatoes will do very well. Very well, indeed…”

More head nodding from her cousin.

 

Elizabeth held back a chuckle as the spectacle unfolded before her.

 

She had been somewhat right in her estimation of Lady Catherine from Mr. Collins’ extensive effusions. But once the introductions were made, she was pleasantly surprised to find that the great lady was even more ridiculous than she had imagined. Her father would be dearly entertained by such human folly once she wrote to him.

 

“Potatoes are vegetables for the hard-working,” Lady Catherine continued sagely. Then she picked up a cream tart from the platter before her and bit into it.

 

“You are quite right, your ladyship, as always,” Mr. Collins said. “I merely wished to place the beans in the baskets for the sick—”

“You should speak on the virtues of potatoes in your sermon, Mr. Collins,” the lady said, dusting off the crumbs from her fingers before fixing a glare on her parson. “Remind them of their good fortune and the evils of laziness.”

 

Elizabeth discreetly watched as a stray crumb held on to dear life against the whiskered mole to the side of Lady Catherine’s mouth. The one to the left of her beaked nose.

 

“Mrs. Collins, you may ask Mrs. Stone to give you some of the dried orange peels she is making with Jenkinson. A little bit of colour will not be unpious in an Easter basket. Mr. Collins, you must remind the congregation to keep their homes clean and take baths regularly…”

Yes, Elizabeth would have to write to her father soon.

But there was one thing that surprised her greatly that evening.

 

Mr. Darcy never appeared.

Not once.

 

Nor did his aunt mention him outside of one lengthy diatribe on how he and Miss Anne de Bourgh, Lady Catherine’s daughter, were made for each other. And that he needed to hurry up and do his duty by his family by marrying her.

 

It confused and perturbed Elizabeth.

 

Did the man consider himself so above them that he could not be bothered to join them for tea? 

Or… was she mistaken about who she had seen earlier that day?

***

The next morning, when Elizabeth neared her favourite walking path, she was startled to see Mr. Darcy under the cherry trees once more.

 

The blossoms were gently floating around him, falling out of the white- and pink-hued boughs. There was a crisp breeze blowing through the trees. It was a vision of peace and tranquility.

 

Elizabeth stood there for a moment, and simply gazed at him.

  

No one could deny that Mr. Darcy was an exceedingly handsome man. And standing where she was, she could almost feel her heart softening at the sight.

 

That was… until she remembered his odious behavior in Meryton and what he had said about her on their very first meeting. A familiar grimace replaced the smile she had not realized had appeared on her lips. Elizabeth straightened her shoulders and approached him.

 

“Hello, Mr. Darcy!” she called, as she neared. “How are you doing on this fine day?”

The man seemed to jolt into awareness at her voice.

 

He turned, fixing her with a gaze of such intensity that she took an unconscious step back.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said. Then he peered at her in confusion.

 

“I am visiting Mr. Collins and his wife at the parsonage,” she offered helpfully. “You may know the new Mrs. Collins as Charlotte Lucas from when you were last in Meryton.”

Mr. Darcy did not reply.

 

When the silence became awkward and he continued to stare at her oddly, Elizabeth asked, “Did you only just arrive at Rosings?”

The confused look on Mr. Darcy’s face intensified.

 

“Rosings?”

Elizabeth tipped her head to one side. She did not believe she had ever been in an interaction as strange as the one she was in right then.

  

“Yes. We had tea there yesterday.” A frown touched her brows. 

“Perhaps you heard about it from your aunt?”

Mr. Darcy’s unceasing stare was beginning to disconcert her. Elizabeth felt a strange coldness tip-tap down her spine. She took another step back.

“Right, well… I shall leave you to it,” she said. She gestured at the blooming cherry trees around them. “Good day, Mr. Darcy!”

She practically fled the scene. 

About the Author

Morgan Blake writes regency romance novels and Austenesque variations of Pride & Prejudice that are sometimes steamy, sometimes not. Satire is the name of the game and happy ever afters the goal!

Morgan loves exploring themes of personal identity, inner strength, social discourse, and hope alongside enduring love in her stories.

She also believes that strong heroes and heroines are not enough to make a tale worth telling. They need a supporting cast of good and not-so-good characters that add more punch and vibrancy... and some dramatic ridiculousness!

Morgan is a cat friend, tropical girl who prefers winter clothes, perennial fantasy/scifi/historical fiction nerd, and a night owl.

Connect with Morgan

Website • Facebook • Instagram

Book Links

Amazon US (paid link) • Books2Read (universal link)

Add to Goodreads

FTC Disclaimer: Link to Amazon. I am an Amazon Associate. I will receive a small commission, at no cost to you,  if you purchase a book through the link provided. Thanks!

Thank you, Morgan, for stopping by today! Fantastic excerpt! I enjoyed it so much! Congratulations on the release of The Cherry Trees of Rosing!

So friends, what are your thoughts? Did that excerpt tempt you also? Let us know in the comments below! 

A Very Fine Place by Julia Winter ~ Blog Tour ~ Deleted Scene!

Hello, friends! Today, I have a deleted scene to share with you from A Very Fine Place by Julia Winter!

 

A Very Fine Place

by Julia Winter

Expected eBook Publication Date: October 17, 2015

Pages: 387, Kindle Edition

Category: P&P variation, Regency romance.

Publisher: Glass Hat Press © 2025

Editor: Megan Reddaway

About The Book

“Once may be chance. Twice may be ill luck. But thrice? Thrice, lad, is malice.” 

      1811. Calcutta. Fitzwilliam Darcy of His Majesty’s War and Colonial Office is stewing in the humid heat, when word comes that his father is dead. He must return to England immediately to take up his inheritance.

 

     Pemberley.

 

     The great house in Derbyshire that has never been his home. Instead, it’s home to the stepmother and half-siblings, Hugh and Georgiana, whom he barely knows.

 

     Pemberley is his now, but an atmosphere of resentment and anger threads through every room. He isn’t welcome. His stepmother is cool towards him, Hugh hates ‘the usurper’… and when a series of incidents threaten Darcy’s life, the only people he can trust are John Reid, his right-hand man throughout his career; Charles Bingley, his aide in India; George Wickham, his cousin and Pemberley’s steward; and Elizabeth Bennet, his stepmother’s penniless niece.

 

     Who is trying to kill him? Will the visit of the Bingley family frighten off the enemy, or just provide more opportunities to get rid of the new master of Pemberley? Most of all, can Darcy and Elizabeth come to an understanding that will, finally, make Pemberley feel like home? 

     (NB British spelling, punctuation and grammar throughout).

Cover: Detail from a portrait by Sir Thomas Lawrence of Mrs Charles Fraser, 1817 (Philadelphia Museum of Art).  

A Deleted Scene

It’s a sad truth that not everything makes it into the final version. Sometimes a poor author has to be ruthless in cutting out scenes that, while they were fun to write, don’t advance the plot or show the characters’ development.

In this scene, set just before Darcy, the Bingleys, Jane and Lizzy go to Buxton to attend a concert and an assembly, Lydia and Elizabeth have a little difference of opinion. It was cut because Lydia’s eventual fate took a different turn than I originally planned, so I offer it up here because I rather like this Lydia and it was a shame to have to cut her out.

     “I do not in the least understand why you care about some woman warbling in Italian,” Lydia said from the comfort of Elizabeth’s bed, where she was sprawled amongst the pillows while Elizabeth packed for Buxton.

     Kitty and Georgiana were with the art master, and since Lydia had no talent in that direction she had decided to utilise what talents she did have. Skilled with her needle and having an eye for colour, she was fond of going through her sisters’ wardrobes and bullying them into refreshing their clothing.

     Now she offered languid approbation for one of Elizabeth’s evening dresses, and added “I do wish I could go to the assembly, though! I think it very unfair that Georgiana is allowed to attend. She is not out either.”

     “She will not be permitted to dance, but will sit with Aunt Darcy.” Elizabeth smiled at her youngest sister. “I know it is hard to wait, Lyddy. But we will do the best we can for you when it is your time. Then, when we attend an assembly, you may dance every set.”

     “George said he would dance my first dances with me. I hope he will not forget.” Lydia bounced up from the bed as the maid brought the emerald green ball gown from the wardrobe. “Oh, Lizzy! Is that the silk Mr Darcy gave you? The… what was the word… the sarry he brought from India?”

     “Sari. Yes.”

     “It is very striking, and a perfect shade for you. I saw the ones he gave Georgiana, of course, but those are so milk-and-water compared to this. Not in the least out of the way. They will not draw the eye.”

     “He was careful to choose colours for her that suited her age.”

     “They would not suit me.” Lydia touched the silk carefully, running a fingertip over the metallic gold braid. “This would.”

     “Perhaps you will inherit it one day, and can make it over.” Elizabeth glanced at the maid and, with a smile, sent her to assist Jane. They would leave for Buxton immediately after the noon meal.

     She folded the green silk carefully, Lydia unaccustomedly eager to proffer assistance, and between them they laid the gown into the small trunk Elizabeth was taking with her, as reverent as a pair of Vestals handling a relic.

     Lydia patted the silk and sighed. “So lovely. What colour is Jane’s?”

     “Blue and silver.”

     “Oh, perfect.” Lydia gave her a complicit little smile. “You will both quite outshine Miss Bingley.”

     Although Lydia had not seen the woman since the day of the Bingleys’ arrival, she had evidently no great veneration for the Darcys’ guest. Not that Elizabeth blamed her. That Miss Bingley considered herself above the Bennets was obvious, purely on the grounds of having a large dowry and being educated at a ladies’ seminary. Elizabeth had never told her youngest sisters of overhearing the woman at dinner the night of the Bingleys’ arrival, putting down the girls as ‘lowly estate children’ or something of the kind, but she had heard it and it had rankled. Dreadful woman! Elizabeth had been glad there was little opportunity for the paths of the schoolroom and the Bingleys to cross. She had little faith in Lydia’s ability to restrain herself if subjected to such barbs.

     It seemed her clever little sister had weighed up Miss Bingley on that first encounter, for she now smiled up at Elizabeth from where she knelt before the trunk. “You are much prettier than she is, Lizzy. In that dress, you will shine.” She closed the lid and locked it, handing Elizabeth the key. “Of course, I am prettier than you, and livelier. In that dress, I would be magnificent.”

     “You are incorrigible.”

     “If I knew what it meant, I would likely agree.” Lydia sat back on her heels and regarded her, head tilted to one side. “Lizzy, have you seen George today?”

     Elizabeth looked away, searching for her reticule to stow the key away safely. “Ah… no. Not for two days now. He has been busy, I expect. He is looking for an estate for Mr Bingley to lease.”

     “He looks very sad, and said he was no longer going to Buxton with you. Is it because of old Mr Wickham, do you think? What a pity! In your place, I would be cross. Who will you dance the first set with, if not George?”

     “I do not know.” She had already tucked several linen handkerchiefs into the trunk, but Elizabeth felt compelled to turn her back on Lydia to search out more in a drawer, intending to stuff them into her reticule along with the trunk key. “I shall have to hope some other gentleman will step into the breach.”

     “In your place, I would show more feeling.” Lydia flung an arm towards the window and the view of the parkland stretching up to the distant hills. “After all, what other opportunity is there for you here, if not George? We are abandoned here in this remote place, and it is not as though we are overrun with likely prospects for husbands! Do you see a line of beaus riding up to claim us?” She snorted, and sighed again. “Jane might get this Mr Bingley, I suppose. What do you think?”

     “That it is for Jane to decide her happiness. Although,”—and here Elizabeth gave her most testing little sister a smile—“I do not think his sisters even close to being the equal of mine. In Jane’s place, I would hope he marries off one as quickly as may be, and encourages the other to return to her husband’s estate.”

     “Lord, yes! I would not like to live with such Friday-faced creatures. I hope they have the lives they deserve.” Lydia frowned. “And speaking of sad faces, I have never seen George so despondent. He usually cheers me, you know, when I am cross about living in such an out-of-the-way place, or not being allowed to dance at assemblies. Today, he barely looked up from his ledgers and had almost nothing to say to me.”

     Silence.

     “Lizzy. What did you do, Lizzy?”

     “Nothing. I did nothing. Why do you suppose it is anything to do with me?”

     “Because George thinks everything is to do with you, you ninny. You must know that.” Lydia scrambled to her feet. Good lord, but she was too sharp to bear. “You have been quiet too, now I think on it. What have you done, Lizzy?”

     “I have nothing to say. Please do not press me on this. It is no one’s business but my own.”

     “It is my business if you have hurt George. Do you not love him, Lizzy?”

     Silence.

     “How can you not?” Lydia’s tone was hard now. Condemning. Angry. “I would have him in an instant, and not because there are so few opportunities for us. George is marvellous, and you are blind if you cannot see it! You must make it right with him. You must!”

     “I will not discuss this with you.”

     “I will tell Mamma. She will never believe you have turned off any suitor, much less George! She will take to her bed for a week if you upset her like this.”

     “Mamma has nothing to say to the matter, any more than do you.”

     “How selfish and unfeeling you are.” Lydia sneered. She did it rather well. “George will not regret you long. How could he, knowing you have no heart?”

     The door slammed behind her with such force, it rocked on its hinges.

About the Author

Once Julia was a communications specialist working with several UK government departments. These days she's thankfully free of all that, and writing full time. She lives in the depths of the Nottinghamshire countryside with her husband and Mavis, a Yorkie-Bichon cross with a bark several times bigger than she is.

Contact Julia

 Website  |  Bluesky  |  Facebook 

Email: juliawinterfiction@gmail.com

Book Links

Amazon US *(paid link) • Amazon UK

Add to Goodreads

* FTC Disclaimer: Link to Amazon. I am an Amazon Associate. I will receive a small commission, at no cost to you,  if you purchase a book through the link provided. Thanks!

Thank you, Julia, for stopping by today, and congratulations on the release of A Very Fine Place!

Oh my, Lydia is always a great source of entertainment! Haha! Hmmm...Elizabeth must know something about George that Lydia doesn't! 😉  Please, leave a comment with your thoughts! 

"Thwarted" by MJ Stratton Blog Tour ~ Excerpt & Giveaway!

 Hello Friends! I'm so excited to have MJ Stratton is visiting the blog today! Her new book, Thwarted looks terrific! You can find an excerpt below. Also, there's a giveaway going on. 

Thwarted

A Darcy & Elizabeth 

PRIDE & PREJUDICE VARIATION

By MJ Stratton

About the Book 

     Mr. Darcy is unmarriageable. Every time he shows any interest in a lady, be it casual or serious, the lady disappears or has disaster befall her. Soon, society spreads gossip that he is cursed, and mamas and daughters alike shun his company.

     Some unknown nemesis keeps the rumors alive, and soon, he suspects he will never find happiness until he discovers who wants him ruined.       

     In Meryton, a humbled Mr. Darcy finds himself drawn to a local beauty. Ever cautious that the villain behind his misfortune is watching, he takes great pains to keep his courtship a secret. He disguises his intentions by showing equal attention to all the ladies and being amiable to everyone. When an old enemy arrives in Meryton unexpectedly, Darcy is instantly wary and works even harder to keep his relationship with Elizabeth from being widely known. Will he ever be free to marry and love her openly, or is his love doomed to be thwarted?       

Thwarted can be considered far-fetched, but it was fun to write, nonetheless.

 

Excerpt

     Lord and Lady Matlock took advantage of the first break in weather to come north. They planned to break their journey at Pemberley for a few days before proceeding to their estate, where they would remain until it was time to return to London for Parliament. Unfortunately, his Aunt Tilda did not bring any good news.

      “The rumors have taken on a life of their own,” she told him sadly. “You have heard, of course, that the gossips say you are not just unmarriageable but also cursed. They have said that any woman to whom you grant attention is bound to meet an unsavory fate. And now, they are saying you are a new Henry the Eighth! No one dares to test whether they shall become the next condemned Anne Boleyn or the next favored Catherine Parr.”

      “That is utterly ridiculous!” Darcy cried in anger. “I have had nothing to do with the current state of each lady in question. All I did was try to court them.”

      “Yes,” his aunt said defensively. “I am only telling you what is being circulated. I do not think you will find any lady amongst the jewels of the ton now.”

      “Will you not consider Anne and have done with it?” his uncle asked.

      “Lady Catherine would be pleased,” Aunt Tilda agreed, nodding. “It is an ideal solution to your situation, for you will still have a well-dowered bride of the first circles.”

      “Absolutely not,” Darcy barked. “I have made my position on the matter clear. Does Aunt Catherine know aught of these rumors?” He laughed mirthlessly. “I would imagine she dislikes the idea of having me as a son-in-law now. She would declare me unsuitable for her daughter and the grandeur of Rosings Park.”

      Uncle Hugh remarked with a hearty laugh, “I think Catherine would overlook a great deal to see Pemberley and Rosings joined.”

      “She would, it seems, be the only one willing to do so,” Darcy snapped. “Is she spreading the rumors, then? Perhaps this is all one big plot to ensure I do her bidding.”

      “I have already looked into the source of the rumors,” his uncle protested. “Catherine swears it was not her, and I believe it. Further investigation has traced the tales to three gentlemen. The reports say they are of the same height and build, though with distinct features. A Runner reported one man had red hair and a bulbous nose. Another says he had brown hair and blue eyes. A third claims the man was blond. Jones, one investigator, says he was unable to learn more but speculates that the three men are the same person.”

      “That would make it a conspiracy,” Darcy said in disbelief. “It is to rather hard to stomach. What have I done to deserve such machinations being turned against me?”

      “The only conclusion on which the runners have agreed is that it appears someone does not want you to secure a bride in London,” Uncle Hugh revealed.

      Darcy groaned and took a long drink from his glass. The entire business had gone from bad to worse! What he would give to have done with it all.

      “Enough of this talk,” his aunt interrupted. “I have found a companion for Georgiana if she meets with your approval. Her name is Mrs. Agatha Younge. She is a respectable widow with excellent references and is a gifted pianist. She will help Georgiana further her skills before we select a master for her.”

      Finally, some good news. “Did you extend the offer to her?” Darcy asked.

      “I did,” she replied. “Mrs. Younge is to travel here in late February or early March if the roads are impassable.”

      “As always, I trust your judgment,” Darcy said, bowing his head to his aunt. Lady Matlock smiled in reply.

      His aunt and uncle stayed a whole week before departing for their estate. He was glad of the company, so isolated he had been at Pemberley since his and Georgiana’s arrival. Invitations had been nonexistent, and even Georgiana had remarked on her brother’s unusual amount of time spent at home in the evenings. Darcy felt lighter after they left, though the great mystery of the London rumors occasionally bothered him. He tried to put the entire thing from his mind, believing, as his aunt did, that the longer he was from Town, the quicker the rumors would die down. He would wait to hear from her before attempting to return.

 

Who do you think is causing all Darcy’s problems?

 About the Author

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.

Purchase at Amazon (paid link) / Add to Goodreads

FTC Disclaimer: Link to Amazon. I am an Amazon Associate. I will receive a small commission, at no cost to you,  if you purchase a book through the link provided. Thanks!

* * * GIVEAWAY * * *

It's giveaway time! During this blog tour MJ Stratton is giving away 2 eCopies of Thwarted - Enter through the Rafflecopter below.

Good luck!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Many thanks to MJ Stratton for stopping by today! 

So friends, what are your thoughts? Returning to Ms Stratton's question; Who do you think is causing all Darcy’s problems?

"Georgiana Darcy's Magical Meddling" by Leah Page ~ Excerpt & Giveaway!

Hello, my friends! I'm delighted to have Leah Page on the blog today with an excerpt from her new book, Georgiana Darcy's Magical Meddling! 

Leah is also giving away an eCopy of her book! Details are at the bottom of the page.

Book Blurb 

Sixteen-year-old Georgiana Darcy harbors a secret—she's recently discovered she is a witch! Under the tutelage of a wise and witchy companion, she spends her days casting spells and plotting the occasional hex against the irksome Miss Bingley. 

When the tea leaves reveal that her brother, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, is destined to meet his one true love at a local assembly, Georgiana cannot resist using her newfound powers to eavesdrop. Unfortunately, the encounter is far from magical. Fitzwilliam's clumsy attempts at affection are doomed without her intervention. Armed with her trusty diary and a knack for magical mischief, Georgiana vows to document—and secretly improve—each of her brother's courtship efforts, ensuring he never strays from his path to true love. But when Lady Catherine de Bourgh senses a budding romance, the stakes rise. 

Will the fledgling witch secure her brother’s happiness and manage the magical realm’s unpredictable twists? Or will her enchanted endeavors fizzle just when she needs them the most? 

Humorous, heartfelt, and utterly enchanting, Georgiana Darcy's Magical Meddling invites you to experience Darcy and Elizabeth’s romance through the eyes of a clever, charming, and slightly meddlesome young witch. Her diary isn't just a record of magical mayhem—it's a confirmation of the love, laughter, and lunacy that make up her witchy life.

 

Excerpt

Chapter One

Midday, 24 October 1811

Dear Diary, 

     I am bursting with excitement. Today I learned the most thrilling news! Tonight, my brother will meet his one true love! Mrs. Annesley, my companion, read Fitzwilliam’s tea leaves (after he left the table, of course), and that is how I discovered it. He is to attend a ball with his friend, Mr. Bingley. There, he will meet his one true love. Is that not the most romantic thing you have ever heard? It is doubly romantic given Fitzwilliam’s aversion to attending balls, as will be the case tonight.

     I suppose I should start from the beginning, little niece, as you are likely quite confused by now. Greetings from your Aunt Georgiana, who, as it happens, is also a witch. I have started a fresh diary for your benefit, as you are likely a witch as well. Do not worry about others finding this book. My companion has placed a spell on the pages that allows only witches to read them. After all, it would not be proper for those without magic to peruse the secrets held within this tome.

     I learned of my powers when I met my companion, Mrs. Annesley. Before her, I had a terrible companion who took advantage of my youth and inexperience and led me astray. We will not discuss that further. Suffice it to say Fitzwilliam (your father) separated me from that lady posthaste upon discerning her vile nature. He then introduced me to Mrs. Annesley, and I could not have been happier with any other companion. 

     Mrs. Annesley is the third daughter of a baron. As she explained it to me, females of rank almost always have magical powers. Their power is, usually, the reason the family gained rank and power in the first place. However, the wealthiest and most powerful homes have long forgotten their powers and stopped practicing. Perhaps, having grown complacent like fatted calves, these families saw no need to pursue their arcane studies further. It is likely that my own mother, the daughter of an influential earl, was a powerful witch. Unfortunately, she died when I was a small child, so I never learned from her. It is possible she was never even aware of her talents.

     Yet, this tale concerns both Mrs. Annesley and my own foray into the craft. As I said, Mrs. Annesley is the third daughter of a baron. Though he held a title, he was not particularly wealthy or powerful, and thus, the ladies of that family never stopped practicing their craft. Witchcraft can be a potent boon for a gentleman. A witch who knows what she is about can secure bountiful harvests, avert blights, and influence her husband towards wise investments. Men may fancy themselves powerful and clever, yet it's truly the women steering the course. Remember that, little niece.

     At the age of twenty, Mrs. Annesley left home to marry Mr. Annesley. He was the second son of a gentleman farmer, and though he did not inherit the family property, he did receive a very lovely little place along the shore in Kent. Mrs. Annesley has shown it to me in visions, so I can attest to the beauty of the home and setting. Alas, their love was but brief, her husband succumbing to a consumptive disease mere years after their union. I asked once why she did not save him, and she explained that witchcraft does not work like that. She was able to offer him comfort, but even a witch cannot suspend God’s will. Currently, a tenant rents the house in Kent, which adds to Mrs. Annesley’s small annuity. She opts to serve as a companion until she deems herself ready to wed anew or till work becomes untenable with age. 

     That is quite a sad story and not at all why you are here, dearest niece. You are here to learn the story of your father’s one true love. And to do that, I must share my background a bit. When Mrs. Annesley became my companion, she began to test me in small ways to understand my powers. Given my father's considerable lands, she suspected our lineage harbored latent talents, but when she learned my mother was the daughter of an Earl, she was convinced I had dormant abilities. 

     At first, she tried me in little ways that were hardly decipherable to me. For instance, she once offered me tea that was terribly hot, but before it settled on my tongue, I had unwittingly cooled it. Another time, she spelled a young child with messy hands to hug me close. I was left with small handprints of sticky syrup along my skirt. While the child’s mother apologized for her son’s actions, I took out my handkerchief and dabbed at the stains. They removed themselves with no more effort than a wave of my cloth across the untidiness. I was quite unaware that I had used magic to clean myself, for it happened unconsciously. 

     Once she was satisfied that I did possess some powers, she tested me further. One day, Fitzwilliam joined us late for breakfast. He greeted each of us and turned to the buffet to make his selections. My reply of, “Good morning, Fitzwilliam,” barely had time to echo before the morning’s tranquility was shattered —not by the expected clink of China, but by an unexpected maneuver from Mrs. Annesley. Without warning, she sent the sugar bowl hurling through the air toward Fitzwilliam, who stood behind me, gathering his breakfast from the buffet. 

     A sudden "eep" escaped me, an instinctive reaction to the potential disaster I sensed rather than saw. My hands reached out futilely, as if I could somehow catch the bowl through sheer will. But the expected crash never came. Confused, I turned just in time to see the sugar bowl floating to the ground before landing innocuously behind me on the floor, as if it had chosen to leap from its perch in a bid for freedom and then thought better of it.

     “Georgiana, why is the sugar on the floor?” My brother placed his plate near mine and then stalked behind me to pick up the dish. 

     Stammering, I managed, “I, uh, deemed the sugar too great a temptation and opted to remove it from my sight, especially since my dresses have grown snug around the middle.” A lame excuse, but the only shield I could muster on the spur of the moment.

     “Nonsense. You look quite well, sister. In any case, if you desire to limit yourself, have a footman remove it from the table. Placing it on the floor is a filthy habit. What would Father have said had he lived to witness this?” His words were stern, yet I sensed his concern was born more of confusion than reprimand.

     My eyes darted across the table to my companion. Her expression was one of unperturbed serenity. She sipped her tea as if flying sugar bowls were among the most common breakfast activities. I admit I was a trifle irritated with her at the time. But when we settled in the yellow salon later that morning, she shared the news of my powers with me, and all was forgiven. 

     That is a bit of a stretch. All was not immediately forgiven because I did not believe her claims. She reminded me of the child’s sticky hands, but I dismissed that. “That was not magic,” I argued, “it was the result of my own actions.” With a scoff, she dotted my skirt with jam! Before I could set myself back to rights, she stilled my hand and suggested that I could clean one stain but leave the other for my abigail, La Roche. The spot I chose disappeared with no more than a wave of a napkin, but La Roche was forced to spend several minutes scrubbing the spot with water and soap before it was put to rights. 

     Since that day, she has been teaching me to harness my powers. I have practiced just a few short months, so I have not yet learned much, but I am able to make the roses bloom on command, and I can sweeten my tea as desired without adding so much as a cube of sugar or a drop of cream. That is a more useful spell than one might imagine. Miss Bingley’s tea, so bitter it could scandalize, would surely appall you. She allows it to steep for far too long, and the result is an undrinkable brew. With a small tap of my index finger against the porcelain cup, I can take tea with the lady without gagging. 

     Mrs. Annesley has advised me to keep my powers secret for the time being. Fitzwilliam himself remains oblivious to these powers. He is also, obviously, ignorant of her tea reading skills. Be careful of the lady who always offers to take up the teacups, for I have discovered that is Mrs. Annesley’s tactic. Whenever possible, she reads everyone’s leaves. 

     And that, my dear niece, is the abbreviated tale behind this new journal’s beginnings. But let us move on to more exciting things. As I mentioned, I have delicious news. Tonight, your father will meet his one true love (as told by his tea leaves this morning) and I have chosen to record their love story for you. If your mother turns out to be as reticent as your father, then you shall never hear the story without my intervention. 

     My brother and I recently arrived at the estate of Mr. Charles Bingley. Mr. Bingley is Fitzwilliam’s good friend. I believe they met during their time at Cambridge, though Mr. Bingley is a few years younger. Mr. Bingley resides at a place known as Netherfield Park. It lies in the county of Hertfordshire just outside a small village called Meryton. I do not believe Fitzwilliam has yet to meet anyone in the community, though perhaps he has met a gentleman or two. He and Mr. Bingley did go shooting yesterday and men do like to do those things in groups. But the point is that Fitzwilliam needs to meet a lady, and I do not believe he’s yet had that pleasure. So, unless he plans to accidentally stumble upon a lady this afternoon, the only place he could possibly meet his one true love is at the ball.

     My brother is the best of men, but young as I am, I am not blind to his faults. Fitzwilliam might, at best, be described as reticent. He might, at worst, be described as a pompous snob. He hates to be the center of attention and is very uncomfortable among new people. Unfortunately, when he is uncomfortable, he often appears to be rather terrible, at least to those who do not know him. That is why tonight is so special. For a man as reserved as my brother to find his one true love amid a public ball —oh, it will be truly amazing! I cannot help but wonder about the lady who will capture his attention. Will she be shy like Fitzwilliam, or will she possess a natural wit and vivacity that will help to draw him out?

     Because I am not yet out, being sixteen, I asked if there was a spell that would allow me to watch the events unfold without attending. Mrs. Annesley believes there are several that might work and is just now checking her books to determine the best options for a young, inexperienced witch. While she is searching her spell books, I shall share some necessary background information for the sake of my future nieces. 

     I have been studying the art of tea reading myself, but I have not yet mastered it. Yesterday I believed I read that Mr. Bingley would fall off his horse, but it turns out that he was only to fall off the porch, and even that interpretation was not quite right, for he simply tripped down the final step and landed with surprising grace on his feet in the driveway. 

     Mrs. Annesley’s predictions always prove themselves to be correct, however, which is why I was so excited to hear this morning’s forecast. My brother (your father) will meet his one true love this evening, and I will finally have a sister! And eventually, little one, I will have you, too. 

***

     Mrs. Annesley returned with a list of possibilities. There are, it appears, three spells suitable for a witch of my novice level to witness another's experiences. The first is a transformation spell. This enchantment might allow me to attend the ball not in person but cloaked in the guise of a small creature. Alas, as a fledgling witch, it is unlikely I could master the art of assuming a form as complex as a bird, to perch unnoticed at the event. Mastering a mouse's form might be within my reach, yet how much could I discern from a vantage so low upon the ground? Inevitably, I would startle at least one lady, and likely a gentleman too, with my mousey presence. Someone might even swat at me with a broom, or perhaps a cane. Attending a ball as a mouse seems like a very good way to lose my life. 

     The second type is a mirror spell. This would necessitate charming an object already present at the ball. It would then act as a mirror, allowing me to see events happening around the room. Unfortunately, I do not have the ability to place an object at the ball because I will not be attending. 

     The final option is a riding spell. This is the most complicated of the options, but it is probably the only one that is truly available to me. A riding spell would enable me, the witch, to experience events through another's senses. Obviously, I would need to charm Fitzwilliam for his are the eyes and ears that will matter this evening. Mrs. Annesley has assured me this is physically taxing magic and has urged me to take a long afternoon nap so that I can maintain the connection for the duration of the ball. So that is what I shall do. 

     I will return this evening to share what I learn. Wish me (and Fitzwilliam, of course) luck!

About the Author

Leah Page loves books, hiking, and the Bengals (Who Dey!).  She has a passion for travel, is doing her best to learn Spanish, and has plans to live “a little bit of everywhere” when her husband retires. For now, you can find her sitting at her writing desk in Kentucky while her sidekick pup sleeps in her lap.   

Leah writes Pride and Prejudice fan fiction. If you would like to learn more, visit www.leahpageauthor.com. 

Book Links

Amazon (paid link) • Goodreads

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* * *GIVEAWAY * * *

Leah Page is offering one free e-copy of Georgiana Darcy’s Magical Meddling to a lucky reader. To qualify for the drawing, enter below. Good luck!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Many thanks to Leah Page for stopping by today! Congratulations on the release of Georgiana Darcy's Magical Meddling! 

I absolutely loved that excerpt. It was so fun. I'm looking forward to reading the rest of the story! How about you? Let me know in the comments below. 

"Darcy's Struggle" by Kelly Dean Jolley ~ Blog Tour ~ Excerpt & Giveaway!

Hello, my friends! I'm excited to have Kelly Dean Jolley visiting today with an excerpt from his new book, Darcy's Struggle! Plus, Meryton Press is giving away an eCopy of the book. Details are at the bottom of the page.

Darcy’s Struggle

by Kelly Dean Jolley

Blurb 

Brilliant, sensitive, and private, Fitzwilliam Darcy finds himself at the Meryton Assembly, consciously troubled by recent events in Ramsgate and unconsciously troubled by himself.  He insults Elizabeth Bennet, at whom he has only glanced. 

It is not until she appears at Netherfield—full of life, skirted in mud, and eager to attend to her sick sister—that Darcy truly looks at her. When he does, he knows she is the woman he has been searching for, the elusive her of his heart. He falls for her completely…despite her apparent unsuitability to be the Mistress of Pemberley and his half-hearted efforts to convince himself he can live without her. 

Shortly before Elizabeth leaves Netherfield, Darcy apologizes for what he said at the Assembly. Will that apology and the depth of his sudden but durable feelings give him hope with Elizabeth? Might George Wickham’s arrival frustrate his hopes, especially after Darcy blunders into a marriage proposal to Elizabeth?  

Romantic, reflective, and ironic, this is a story told from Darcy’s point of view, a story of the struggle from intellect to heart—a deliberate character study and a delicate love story. 

 

Excerpt

Darcy’s knock at Richard's door received a hearty "Enter!"

     He did and found Richard already changed. Darcy envied him in small ways—particularly his readiness, his quickness, the product of a soldier's life. The lack of formality. It showed not only in the man’s ability to doff and don clothes but also in his comfort in circumstances high and low, his adaptability. He was a soldier, dutiful, a man of rectitude, but even Wickham would not claim Richard had a stick up his bum.

     Richard carried his territory with him; he belonged everywhere.

     Darcy, by contrast, was comfortable only in few places, around few people. Luckily, one of them was Richard. They jostled each other, sometimes hard, but they were as close as brothers.

     Richard smirked at him. "So, it finally happened—a woman mounted up to that tiny window at the top of that tall, tall tower, and found you there, entangled in yourself, waiting to be rescued."

     Darcy could not help it—he barked a loud laugh. Richard! "Am I the damsel in distress?"

"I fear it has long been so. You have been under a curse. ‘The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge.’”

     The quotation made Darcy think of his parents again and their mismanagement of their children's education.

     "Why is everyone quoting scripture to me lately? Bingley's been doing it!"

     "Eh? Returning the favor. And by the way, where is your hypochondriac, lovesick friend?"

     "Genuinely lovesick this time, I judge. He entered into a courtship on Friday with the sister, Jane Bennet, of my betrothed. But you've missed him today. He must have passed you on the road; he's gone to London to prepare for the wedding…and to attend to errands."

     "And where is Bingley’s sister—that is, his other sister, the one who intends to give you an heir and a spare before she begins to conduct personal virility tests with London's fashionable male population."

     "Richard! She is, well…she is insincere—but that?" He was never quite prepared for his cousin’s frankness, although he knew to expect it.

     "I do admire you, Darcy, but you are sometimes an imbecile. That woman does not want you, she wants Pemberley. But she does have wants, other wants, itches, that she's left unattended, and she will eventually scratch them…on someone."

About the Author

     Kelly Dean Jolley, a professor at Auburn University, has penned several novels. His first, Big Swamp, is a detective novel, which he followed with a Christmas mystery, The Vanishing Woman. He also composed a book of poetry, Stony Lonesome.

 

       Using the pseudonym Newton Priors, he released three additional novels: Balter (A Retelling of Pride and Prejudice), Tides of Bath (A Retelling of Persuasion), and a Western, Heaven and Hell: A Romance. 

       Professor Jolley has made contributions to many academic publications as well. He is the author of The Concept 'Horse' Paradox and Wittgensteinian Conceptual Investigations, the editor of Wittgenstein: Key Concepts, and has published over forty academic articles. He is a past Alumni Professor and currently the Goodwin-Philpott Endowed Chair in Religion and Professor of Philosophy. 

Connect with Kelly Dean Jolley

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Purchase Link for Darcy's Struggle

Amazon US (paid link) • Universal Buy Link

FTC Disclaimer: Link to Amazon US. I am an Amazon Associate. I will receive a small commission, at no cost to you,  if you purchase a book through the link provided. Thanks!

Other Meryton Press Books by Kelly Dean Jolley

Big Swamp - Amazon US (paid link)

The Vanishing Woman - Amazon US  (paid link)

Coming soon from Kelly Dean Jolley and Meryton Press

Pride, Prejudice, and Pretense (A spy novel, a romance, and a character study)

Blog Tour Schedule

June 12 - From Pemberley to Milton

June 13 - My Vices and Weaknesses

June 14 - Austenesque Reviews

June 17 - My Jane Austen Book Club

June 18 - So little time… ~ You're here!

June 20 - Interests of a Jane Austen Girl

June 21 - Delighted Reader Book Reviews

* * * GIVEAWAY * * *

It's giveaway time! Meryton Press is giving away an eBook of Darcy's Struggle to one of my lucky readers! To enter, leave a comment below with a way to contact you, or check back here, where I will announce the winner.

• One person will win an e-copy of Darcy's Struggle.
• Winner will be randomly picked.
• To enter the giveaway, leave a comment below and provide a way of contacting you, or check back for the winner announcement.
• Open internationally.
• The last day to enter the giveaway is June 25th, 2024, by the end of the day.

Good luck!

Many thanks to Kelly Dean Jolley for stopping by and sharing an excerpt with us! Congratulations on the release of Darcy's Struggle.

Thanks to Meryton Press for the giveaway, and a big thanks to Janet Taylor @ More Agreeably Engaged for organizing and including me in this blog tour!

I hope you enjoyed the excerpt as much as I did! I can tell I will love this Colonel Fitzwilliam, my favorite secondary character! Let me know your thoughts in the comments!