Chasing Elizabeth—An Excerpt from Chapter Two!

First of all, I want to give a special shout-out to Sarah Powell, who was instrumental in helping me settle on a spy name worthy of Fitzwilliam Darcy. (We couldn’t let Richard choose The Purple Pansy, now, could we?) Thank you, Sarah! Mr. Darcy is ever grateful.

Photo by Barby Dalbosco on Unsplash

Pouring another glass and handing it to Darcy, Richard said, “To a job well done! I salute you, Cousin.”
“It is too early in the day to imbibe.”
Richard shrugged, tossing back the contents of his glass. Smacking his lips together, he grinned. “It is not too early when one has been up all night, and it is never too early to celebrate. The papers caught wind of the story, and they have printed a flattering account of how the French spies were thwarted once again by an anonymous son of England.” He produced the offensive article from his breast pocket.
Darcy turned away from it. “They glorify unlawful rebels in the same paragraph in which they extol the cleverness of the men who prevent them from selling secrets to the enemy.”
“Allow me to reassure you on that point. They said nothing of your cleverness.”
Darcy glared at Richard.
The ingrate’s grin widened. “You ought to embrace your fame, Darcy. When the war is over, they will proclaim you a hero. Already, there is talk of your nom de guerre. I am rather partial to The Oxford Orchid, although I admit there is a romantic appeal to The Crimson Carnation.”
Darcy’s fists clenched. “Ridiculous!”
“Do you prefer The Purple Pansy?”
Darcy should have accepted the drink Richard had offered him. Then he would have had something to throw at his cousin’s smirking face.

Mr. Darcy, secret agent man? What?!
So, when will Chasing Elizabeth be published? VERY soon, I promise!

Chasing Elizabeth—A Sneak Peek!

Photo by Timur Romanov on Unsplash

An Excerpt from Chapter One

Elizabeth Bennet flung off her covers, morning chill and anticipation prickling her skin and awakening her senses. She had to leave quickly if she were to leave at all.
Every floorboard groaned. Every breath thundered. Every brush of fabric as she donned her costume scratched. Sounds nobody heard during the daytime deafened at dawn, and no matter how many times Elizabeth had performed this same routine, the nerve-tingling urgency and panic never ceased to accompany her.
She could not risk waking the household.
Plaiting her hair and pinning it in place, she reached in the dim light for the brooch she always left beside her book on the bedside table. It was her favorite — the one Uncle Gardiner had bought for her in Italy ages ago, before the war. Elizabeth ran her finger tenderly over the uneven stones — emerald malachite; bright turquoise; vibrant lapis lazuli; and aventurine in Spring grass green, Summer sun yellow, and Autumn orange — carefully arranged in an intricate, miniature puzzle creating a colorful mosaic of the Italian countryside. She would travel there. Someday.
Until that blessed day, Elizabeth wore her uncle’s thoughtful gift on the lapel of her riding habit with pride. Were it not for her dear aunt and uncle’s efforts on her behalf, she doubted her father would allow her and her sisters to venture so far as even London.
That Aunt and Uncle Gardiner had persuaded him to allow Elizabeth to accompany them North through Derbyshire the approaching summer — where her aunt had spent most of her youth — was a modern-day miracle. They might even travel farther to the Lake District. Elizabeth hoped so.
Less than two months remained until her grand adventure. Forty-seven days to be precise. Forty-seven days which could not pass by quickly enough to suit Elizabeth.
Her morning escapades were her only relief from the tedium of watching the clock tick through the never-ending days.

What is Elizabeth up to? Will she get her adventure?