Guest Post: The Darcy Brothers

Greetings, dear readers! I am thrilled to announce today's guest: the one, the only Mr. Theo Darcy! *fans self* Austen Variations authors Monica Fairview, Maria Grace, Cassandra Grafton, Susan Mason-Milks, and Abigail Reynolds have written a delightful Pride and Prejudice variation where Mr. Darcy has a younger brother, Theodophilus Darcy. I enjoyed reading The Darcy Brothers as it was being posted online at Austen Variations, so I am excited for these authors at having published this piece. 

I want to thank these Monica, Maria, Cassandra, Susan, and Abigail for having Leatherbound Reviews as a stop on their blog tour and especially to Monica Fairview for writing this special scene and Cassandra Grafton for the images and Maria Grace for the review copy. 

Stop by Wednesday to read Leatherbound Reviews' review of The Darcy Brothers. 

Now without further ado, I will turn the post over to Monica Fairview.  

******* 

In Which the Darcy Brothers Visit Leatherberry Hall and Are Quizzed by a Reporter

By Monica Fairview

Before I do anything else, I would like to thank Jakki for the chance to appear yet again here on Leatherbound Reviews.  It is always a pleasure to visit and exchange pleasantries with Jakki and her readers. Today Jakki thought it might be fun to look into the childhood of the Darcy brothers, so we have prepared you a little vignette.

***

Mr. Darcy swept into the room, followed by a handsome young gentleman with a ready smile and a boyish look of mischief on his face.

“Lady Leatherberry, you have always been very generous in receiving me at your home,” said Mr. Darcy. “I look forward to making the acquaintance of some of your friends. Allow me to introduce my younger brother Theodophilus.”

“Only my enemies call me Theodophilus,” said the brother, “and I hope you and I will not be enemies.”

Theo gave her a smile that was intended to melt rock, but she was made of sterner stuff. Surely the young whelp did not intend to actually flirt with her?

“Any brother of Mr. Darcy must always be welcome at Leatherberry Hall,” she said, emphasizing Mr. Darcy.

Theo raised an eyebrow then gave her a lopsided smile. “I am all gratitude, madam,” he said, with a bow and a flourish.

Reassured that he would not overstep his bounds, she smiled.

“Please come in. Many people are here already and have been awaiting your arrival.”

Just then she spotted a neighbor of hers bearing down upon them resolutely. It was none other than Mr. Lovecrowe. She had not invited him, nor had she told him the Darcy brothers would be here, but she should have known he would ferret out the information. Now that he was here, there would be no escaping him. Mr. Lovecrowe wrote for the ----shire Herald. He was as tenacious as a wasp and as difficult to be rid of.  She sighed.

“Lady Leatherberry,” said Mr. Lovecrowe, bowing and pressing his lips to her hand. “I do hope you will do me the honor of introducing me to your distinguished guests. Their fame has spread far and wide. Everyone in ---shire is agog to know more about them.”

“Mr. Lovecrowe is a reporter,” said Lady Leatherberry by way of explanation, having performed the introductions.

As if she had just paid him a compliment, Mr. Lovecrowe beamed.  He had exceptionally large uneven teeth that made him look like a badger. “Yes, indeed. I do hope you will not think it an imposition on my part, but I would like to write an article about you and your younger brother, Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy looked as if he would rather be anywhere else at the moment. “I am at your service, sir.” His gaze, however, slid towards the French windows leading to the garden.

Before he could find an excuse to escape, however, Theo intervened. He had no objection to being the subject of an article in a newspaper. It would certainly impress the ladies.

“A newspaper? How fascinating,” he said. “I think I should warn, you however, Mr. Lovecrowe, that as a barrister I am accustomed to cross-examining witnesses and will not part with information easily.”

Darcy shook his head at Theo and compressed his lips tightly, giving him a glance that promised retaliation later.

“You need not worry, Mr. Theo. My questions are quite benign. To prove it, here is the first one. Can each of you describe to me a golden moment in your childhood when you were together?”

“William,” said Theo, sweetly, “would you care to address the question?”

William cast him a suspicious look but did not hesitate. That was the good thing about William. One could count on him to back one up. He was reliable to a fault.

“Very well,” said William. “I do recall a very special day from our childhood.” He smiled faintly and a nostalgic look came into his eyes. “Theo must have been about five. My father was teaching us how to fish and it was Theo’s first time. It was a pleasant summer day, neither too hot nor too cold, but for some reason the fish were not biting. Theo was growing impatient. He was not the type of boy who liked to be still. He began to fidget and look longingly towards the house.

‘We cannot go home until we have caught some fish,’ said Father.

“Theo tried his best, but, finally, he could bear it no longer. He brought out his rod, reeled it in, then cast it – into my hair!

“‘Look, Father,’ he said. ‘I caught a fish.’ Darcy smiled. “Since Fish was Theo’s baby nickname for me (instead of Fitz), my father burst into laughter and agreed that we could go home. My father rarely laughed, so it was a moment I treasured.”

Mr. Lovecrowe gave out a bellowing, insincere laugh, displaying every one of his irregular teeth. “A remarkably good story, Mr. Darcy. Now on to my next question. Can each of you tell me about an embarrassing event you witnessed involving your brother?”

Theo grinned. “That is very easy, since William is readily embarrassed.

When Darcy was twelve, we had a neighbor called Isabella Worthington. She was three years older than Darcy and quite a hoyden.” He gave Darcy a quick look. Darcy’s face was impassive. For a moment he wondered if he should be telling this tale, but he did not see any harm in it.

“She was my brother’s first love, but she was too conceited to care for a young boy’s admiration. One day William crept into Father’s study and took his opera glasses. Then, with me along as a lookout, he crept onto their estate and climbed a tree where he could observe her, cutting flowers in the rose garden. She must have spotted him almost at once, but she pretended she had not. Not five minutes had passed before she had crept up behind us and, before we knew it, she was standing, brandishing a riding crop.

“How dare you trespass on my property and watch me?” she kept saying, lashing out with the whip.

“She began to hit the tree in which William was sitting. I am ashamed to admit that I ran away as fast as my legs could carry me, abandoning William to his fate.

“Needless to say, he was cured of his obsession, but the very mention of her name after that was enough to turn his face red as a lobster. George Wickham and I used to tease him about it, which, in retrospect, may not have been a good idea.”

“Probably not,” said Lady Leatherberry, “but you need not be too severe on yourself, considering you were no more than nine years of age at the time.”

“Well, Mr. Darcy, it is now your opportunity to get your own back by telling a tale of Theo,” prompted Mr. Lovecrowe.

“I will not besmear the name of my brother for the amusement of others,” said Darcy, stiffly.

“Do your worst,” said Theo, a challenge in his voice. “How bad can it be?”

“Very well,” said Darcy. “Be it on your head, then.

“It was the first day Theo wore breeches.”

Theo groaned. Darcy gave him a quick grin. It seemed, for the moment, the brother’s positions were reversed.

“As you can imagine, Theo being Theo, he was strutting about in the most insufferable manner possible. He was very pleased with himself for being so grown up. For the first time, he was invited to partake of dinner in the dining hall with the adults instead of in the nursery. Father had given a dinner party to mark the occasion and my uncle, Lord Matlock, was there.

“’Who is this fine young gentleman before me?’ said our uncle. ‘Come here. Let me look at you.’

“Unfortunately, Theo, who was unaccustomed to having his legs covered, caught his breeches on a piece of furniture. There was the sound of a rip and, lo and behold, there was Theo, with a large piece of his breeches missing. To make matters worse, as he tried to extricate himself, he tripped and knocked over a tureen of soup carried by one of the footmen. The soup sloshed over into Lord Matlock’s lap. As you can imagine, chaos ensued, and Theo was sent to bed without supper.”

“Which was vastly unfair,” said Theo. “It was punishment enough that I had embarrassed myself so thoroughly. I am still smarting with the injustice of it.”

Mr. Lovecrowe threw back his head and again gave that insincere, sniffling laugh of his, his uneven teeth revealed in all their yellow glory.

“If you do not mind, gentlemen, I would like to ask one other question.”

Both Theo and Darcy groaned aloud, looked at each other, and shook their heads with a smile. For a moment, the two brothers were in complete accord, wearing identical expressions.

Realizing that it was time to rid herself of her unwanted guest, Lady Leatherberry intervened quickly.

“I do believe that the Darcy brothers could do with some refreshments after their long journey, Mr. Lovecrowe. We must not trespass on their patience. Perhaps later in the day—”

***

I hope you enjoyed this little glimpse into the Darcy brothers’ past. Thank you once again, Jakki, for the opportunity to stop here on our blog tour. I hope everyone will take the opportunity to ask our team some questions.

Thank you again, Monica, for the entertaining insight into the Darcy brothers as children.

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Frolic and Play: The Netherfield Snowball by Cassandra Grafton.

I am super excited to announce today's snow-filled scene. Cassandra Grafton, author of A Fair Prospect, has generously and cleverly written a special scene for the Frolic and Play series! Thank you, Cassandra. :)

This scene takes place the day after the Netherfield ball in Pride and Prejudice and after Mr. Collins is rejected by Elizabeth Bennet. Enjoy!

The day after the Netherfield Ball…

An early blast of wintry air had descended upon Hertfordshire overnight, leaving a hard frost atop a thin layer of snow, with the threat of more to come. Intent upon his business in Town and thus a speedy return, Charles Bingley set off at first light, the use of his carriage his only concession to the weather.

By the time the remaining occupants of Netherfield ventured downstairs, snow fell heavily from grey skies and before long several inches lay upon the ground.

Despite the roaring fires in every hearth, Caroline Bingley complained as steadily as the flakes fell, of the coldness in the air, the conditions outside underfoot and the paucity of the neighbourhood for offering any possible distraction.

As the clock struck noon, she and her sister settled beside the largest fire of all in the drawing room, refusing to move from its warmth. Mr Hurst resumed his usual indolent position on the sofa before drifting into slumber and, striving to tune out the ladies’ plaintive voices, Darcy walked over to the window and stared out into the park.

The weather was an unfortunate complication, and he released a frustrated breath. Their discussion earlier had centred upon Miss Jane Bennet and Bingley’s apparent infatuation with her. His sisters harboured some of Darcy’s own reservations over the suitability of the lady, and his doubts over Miss Bennet’s genuine interest in his friend were sufficient for him to agree to their suggestion: that they follow Bingley to Town directly and somehow – he knew not how – persuade him against not only his inclination, but returning to Netherfield at all.

Darcy eyed the conditions outside. There would be no journey to Town today. He could only hope, it being so early in winter, for a quick thaw so that they could make a swift withdrawal from the neighbourhood soon after. Hard upon the heels of this thought, came another: he would not see Miss Elizabeth Bennet again.

The tightening in his chest that accompanied any thought of the lady of late made its presence duly felt and, keen for distraction, he excused himself and made his way to the boot room. He needed fresh air and exercise to stave off the thoughts and regrets that would intrude.

Stepping outside, suitably booted and wrapped in his great coat, Darcy strode out, his feet making no sound on the virgin snow. The snow had all but stopped falling, and the skies were lightening slowly, and he inhaled deeply of the crisp, clear air as he walked, relishing the feel of it coolness.

Just then, a sound caught his ear, and he stopped to listen: children playing, their shouts of joy and laughter drifting to him like snowflakes on the wind. Turning a corner, he beheld them, using make-shift sledges to fly down a nearby slope before, pink-faced with cold, turning to trudge their way to the top again, bent upon repeating the pleasure.

Darcy turned his steps to the right, seeking solitude and soon came upon an opening in the hedgerow through which he slipped. Yet his evasive action proved his downfall; with a resounding thud, something hit him squarely in the throat and, as icy slithers of snow began to slide beneath his neck-cloth, his gaze met that of a wide-eyed Elizabeth Bennet.

“Forgive me, Mr Darcy; I did not expect you.” Her tone was sufficiently contrite, but her countenance did not speak of regret. Unless he was much mistaken, the lady was struggling to conceal her mirth.

He wiped the snow from his neck, brushing the remainder from his coat. “You have a sure aim for a lady, Madam.”

A raised brow greeted this comment. “For a lady, Sir? I will take the credit, begrudgingly though you bestow it. Yet my honesty will prevail. I did not take aim and fire, you merely obliged me by walking into my range.” She waved a hand, and he looked over his shoulder.

A low stone wall ran the length of the copse on this side and balanced atop it was a small snowman, albeit now minus part of its head. He frowned; she appeared to have attached some black ribbon to its neck but before he could study it further, she spoke from beside him.

“You place yourself in continued peril, Mr Darcy.”

He glanced at her as she picked something up from the foot of the wall: a low-brimmed black hat, and he frowned again. It was familiar yet he could not place it.

Having balanced it once more upon the remains of the snowman’s head, she returned to the place where she had first stood and, sensing that she would make no allowance for his present position, he quickly stepped aside, just in time to miss the next missile as it struck its target.

Elizabeth made a charming picture, wrapped up warmly in a thick coat, a colourful scarf at her throat and her pink cheeks glowing almost as much as her dark eyes and, despite the lingering dampness about his neck, Darcy released a contented sigh.

“You force me to repeat my praise, Miss Bennet. Your aim is true.”

She laughed. “It is a fine accomplishment, is it not?” Bending to scoop up another handful of snow, she moulded it into a tight ball. “You are very gallant, Mr Darcy?”

“You seem surprised.”

She pursed her lips. “Aye, you and gallantry are not things I have coupled together before now.”

Shocked, not only by her outspokenness but also the implication of her words, Darcy knew not what to say. Did she truly hold him in such low esteem? If so, how might he improve her opinion of him, and why was it so essential to him that he did?

Elizabeth, meanwhile, showed no respect for his inner turmoil, releasing the next snowball with expediency and returning the hat to its former place on the ground.

As she passed him on her way to restore it, he noted the snow clinging in clumps to her boots and the hem of her coat. “You are a long way from home in these conditions. May I not see you safely back?”

She adjusted the ribbon on the snowman’s shoulders, its head now fully dispatched to the other side of the wall and turned to study him. He could not see that he had said anything amiss, yet her expression did not auger well.

“You are mistaken, Mr Darcy. Home is but the other side of the wall.” Trying to get his bearings, Darcy’s gaze narrowed as she continued. “Longbourn may only be a modest house in your eyes, Sir, but the grounds are sufficiently large for finding solitude,” she raised an admonishing brow at him before turning to top the ribbon with the hat, “and escape when required.”

Accepting the hit, Darcy inclined his head. “Then permit me to leave you in peace, Madam.”

At this, the lady shook her head. “Pay me no mind, Mr Darcy. I am out of countenance with myself more than any other. You are perfectly at liberty to walk here.”

Glad of the reprieve, he smiled. “May I be of any assistance?”

Elizabeth threw him a surprised glance. “I doubt that you can, Sir. I am sorely in need of an outlet for a surfeit of ill temper.” She paused, then added, “Do not be alarmed, Mr Darcy; I am merely aggrieved by my cousin and needed to be where he was not.”

Recognition of the snowman’s attire came instantly, and Darcy bit his lip to hide his amusement.

“And er - may I enquire how you managed to take possession of his hat?”

She shrugged. “I cannot lay claim to any talent in that quarter. It hung upon the coat stand as I passed through the hall and, as I suspected he would have little use for it at present, I borrowed it.”

Turning, she walked back to a small pile of remaining snowballs and picked one up, weighing it on her palm, before facing him. “May I ask you a question?”

Unsure if she was about to request that she aim the next missile at him rather than the snowman, Darcy faltered; then, he nodded. “Of course.”

She sighed. “Would you ever consider putting your own happiness ahead of duty to your family?”

Darcy stared at her thoughtfully for a moment, unsure of the relevance of her words. “It is not so simple to answer. If I thought I had forsaken my duty, I do not think I could find contentment.” He studied her troubled countenance, then added. “But my resolve has yet to be tested in earnest.”

What he might have said next, he did not know, for voices drifted towards them on the cold air and they looked towards a stile part way along the wall only to see two of the younger Bennet sisters appear.

“Come, Lizzy! Papa says it is time for you to return to the house.” The girl gave Darcy a startled glance, as if only now perceiving his presence; then, she smirked. “You are quite safe; our cousin has taken to his room until supper.”

“I bid you good day, Mr Darcy.” Elizabeth curtsied, and he offered her a bow by return. “I thank you for bearing me company.” She held out her latest offering towards him, and he took it.

“I return the compliment, Miss Bennet.”

She retrieved the hat and soon disappeared over the stile and into the grounds of Longbourn, the chattering and laughter of her sisters fading slowly, and Darcy stooped to gather more snow, doubling his missile in size.

Though it had been many a year since he had thrown a snowball, Darcy was a keen sportsman with a good eye and a true aim, and the remains of the snowman, ribbon and all, soon disappeared over the wall in search of its head. How was it he felt such pleasure over such a childish thing and so revitalised by spending a short time in the lady’s company?

Darcy turned to retrace his steps, deep in thought. A few light flakes of snow began to fall, and he cast a wary glance heavenwards. Then, he shook his head at his own folly. Whatever the weather chose to deliver, he was caught in a trap of his own making – it was time to own it to himself. Thus, he would remain in Hertfordshire, await his friend’s return and, in the meantime, consider the benefits of lingering a little longer in the country.

I don't know about you, but I am wishing this were not a stand-alone scene. I want to know what happens next in the story. Thanks again, Cassandra for writing this scene for Frolic and Play!

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