I am starting to get my appetite back and am hoping this whole morning sickness thing might be over in a week or two. Please keep your fingers crossed for me on that!
I thought for my blog post I would reach back in time and post an excerpt from my short story “A Prince’s Ransom,” which can be found in Love and Laughter, an anthology containing short stories written by Jann Rowland and by me.
I tend not to go too far outside the norm when I write any sort of Pride and Prejudice variation, but this is one time when I did, reimagining the main characters’ stations while still trying to retain the appropriate flavor. Surprisingly, it’s one of my favorite things that I have written.
When you read a Pride and Prejudice variation, do you prefer things to be drastically different, or do you like it more when everything is comfortably familiar yet subtly changed? I would love to hear from you about that – and about some of your favorite variations and why! Is it the writing? Is it the plot? Is it the setting? Please feel free to share!
Excerpt from “A Prince’s Ransom,” short story in the Love and Laughter anthology.
“This is all your fault, you know.”
“You must excuse me for disagreeing, Lady Elizabeth, but I hardly believe it to be my fault that we are being held by a band of ruffians.”
“I despise horses, and I should never have been out riding one were it not for you, sir.”
“I did not coerce you into accompanying me, madam.”
“Perhaps you did not, Your Royal Highness, but my mother certainly did. When a prince indicates his interest in spending time with a young woman, it is difficult for her to refuse him. You put me in an uncomfortable position by asking me.”
“You are the daughter of a duke. I hardly think that your reputation would have suffered had you rejected my suggestion outright.”
“If that is what you truly believe, then you are more oblivious than I thought,” muttered Elizabeth, shaking her head in aggravation.
His Royal Highness, Prince Fitzwilliam Darcy, stared at her, waiting for her to elucidate. Unfortunately for him, she was less than inclined to do so.
At present, Elizabeth was attempting to saw at the rope that bound her hands behind her chair by awkwardly moving a blessedly sharp penknife up and down. The knife had been an unexpected boon. The room in which she and the prince had at last opened their eyes was a study of sorts that had seen better days. Debris was scattered across the floor, and it appeared as if it had been ransacked by looters at some point, with almost everything of value removed. Elizabeth had appeared less than dignified bouncing her chair backwards toward the desk so she could blindly rifle through the drawers, but she had found what she had sought, and she frankly no longer cared what the prince thought of her. He was the reason she found herself in this mess, and she felt justified in holding onto her anger against him.
When it became apparent that she did not intend to say anything further without prompting, the man spoke. “I am afraid I do not catch your meaning.”
“Of course not. Why would a proud prince ever deign to learn more about the pitiful lives of the subjects in his kingdom? In a ballroom, all you ever do is glare down your nose at those who dare to breathe the precious air around you.” Elizabeth gritted her teeth at the chafing of the rope tied around her wrists, pausing a moment from her sawing to give her tender flesh some relief. The gloves she was wearing had slipped down somewhat, exposing the skin to the cruel burn of her bonds. “Perhaps it has escaped your notice, but some of the mice beneath your feet are living lives of genteel poverty.”
The man’s expression seemed to falter. “I was not aware His Grace was struggling—”
“Of course you would not know,” said Elizabeth, beginning to saw at the rope once more. She had to fight back the urge to raise her voice. They were speaking quietly to keep the men posted outside their door from overhearing them, and Elizabeth did not want her irritation to capture the guards’ interest. “My mother would rather eat her entire wardrobe than reveal to anyone just how poorly off my family is. You have nothing to worry about. Your father will pay a king’s ransom for you—”
“I believe that would be a prince’s ransom.”
“But as for my family,” continued Elizabeth, her eyes flashing, “we are merely attempting to keep up pretenses. We cannot buy our way out of our problems.”
“Instead, your mother pushes you toward men of fortune.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips. “While I cannot countenance my mother’s behavior, I have never looked at a man only to learn the size of his holdings. I much prefer to learn about the man himself. I value the heart and mind of a prospective suitor, not his situation.”
“Yes, I saw how eagerly you were hanging on Sir Wickham’s words.”
Elizabeth stared at the prince, wondering at his venom. “If you saw that I was enjoying myself, then why did you feel inclined to pull me away?”
“That blackguard should not be seen in decent company. I did not wish for you to be lured in by his wiles.”
“I will have you know that I am a more discriminating woman than you might think,” said Elizabeth stiffly. “Two months ago, I refused a proposal from a baron.”
A curl of amusement actually made its way to His Royal Highness’s lips. “Yes, I heard about William Collins’s disastrous proposal.”