Hello, there.
If you have visited my blog MOIRABIANCHIdotCOM this last year, you already know about this new story. If not, let me enlighten you.
For a long time now, this plot - that I consider the ultimate 'what if' - has been in my head - and not only regarding JAFF. What if Darcy had not gone to Meryton with Bingley and had married Anne deBourgh, Elizabeth had fallen for Wickham or accepted (urgh) Collins and when they finally met, they were already committed? What would have happened?
I mean, is there such a thing as people destined to another? Half apples or oranges or whatever?
If there is, if one finds his/hers half when already committed, what should this person do? Suck it up and move on? Stop your engines and restart?
Moreover: When does one have courage to take a leap of faith?
That's what THE PRINCE OF PEMBERLEY is about.
A few disclaimers, if I may.
1- This story is totally written but in revision. I started out certain to have the patience and commitment to post all 3 parts, 25 chapters in total but due to consistent lack of feedback, I decided to stop. Call me childish, bitchy, lazy… You name it, but please, give 'The Prince of Pemberley' a chance to win you over. What I had already posted will stay here: Full first and second chapters of both BOOKS 1 and 2, shortened versions of the others as I did with my other story posted here and later (self) published as 'FRIENDSHIP OF A SPECIAL KIND'. You can visit my blog MOIRABIANCHIdotCOM for more info and links for my books IF you want to purchase them. (It'd make me deliriously please if you do).
2- If you have already read my stories, you already know I'm Brazilian and sometimes my sentences need your goodwill. Also, I don't have much luck with betas so I fly solo. I thank you in advance;
3- My stories are rated MA. There will be sex ahead. Lots;
4- This story is not totally about, but deals majorly with adultery. I don't want to advertise pro or against it, it's just part of this Dizzy story. I am married for 17 years already, this is our first marriage and my hubs & I never had to deal with what this story entails but we have friends who have been in these situations so I write with 'some' accuracy. Hubs helped me discussing the many situations for loooong hours, he says Mr D would never do it (really?);
5- The characters are freely inspired on people and/or situations I saw as a close friend or professionally. Although the colors are saturated, everything is kinda based on true situations;
6- My Elizabeths are strong and opinionated. Don't expect moaning kittens, they are more like bitches. This one in particular;
7- Ex-wives and ex-husbands cannot be easy to deal with, I respect that, but my story is about a one side of broken marriages. The other sides, either wronged or avenged or victimized are another kettle of fish (that I won't write about);
8- A marriage – and I know this – is very, very, very difficult to keep healthy. It's a daily struggle (as any relationship, I guess). So, again, I think the four major characters are to blame, there are no victims here. I put a lot of thought in this story and it took me a year to wrap it.
Now, for the Prince itself.
Hope you like it as much as I do.
It is about to be (self) published, somewhat improved and much reviewed and extended. It's always nice to get feedback but, you know, I can't do much besides hope for it. I try to answer everyone.
BOOK 1
Synopsis
It´s a truth universally acknowledged, as well as feared, that fate has its twisted ways to dispose of our lives. And of all alignments the planets on my chart could assume, this one is especially whimsical.
I should refrain from behaving like a risk-taking girl excited about poking a hornet's nest. I'm in my forties, after all. Actually, coming to think of it, I've been feeding this mess since I was 13.
You see, I was a regular teenager from a small coast city in Rio de Janeiro estate called Merytônia and the British School my sisters and I attended had branches worldwide. My older sister Jane and I took part actively in our school's Youth Group believing ourselves links of a chain that would revolutionize the planet fighting passionately for humanity.
But the group's biggest achievement wasn't a revolution during the Cold War years; it was bringing people closer in a pre-internet world. I was curious and outgoing so I made friends all over, one British guy in special.
He was seventeen, an arrogant senior secretary for the International board, I was secretary for the Brazilian board therefore we exchanged documents often – as often as our posts allowed - and before we noticed, we were friends. We loved each other's insights that eventually escalated from small notes attached to documents to thick letters independent of the Youth Group. We sent each other small gifts; shared inner thoughts and aspirations for a future that we dreamt would be bright and adventurous.
Time passed, the ideals of a better world met real life, college, lovers, careers and we grew apart; but there was always that... gap in my chest that only his letters could fill. Eventually the gap effaced as I lived on, married a good man, had two lovely kids.
Suddenly, decades had gone by.
A few months ago, on the verge of turning forty and starting my PhD abroad, by chance, out of nowhere, while casually surfing the net, I found Darcy's name crowning a big company's organogram.
I knew it couldn't be the same Fitzwilliam Darcy but what if it was? It could only be some astrological midlife revolution positioning Uranus against Uranus in my birth chart but I was very excited with the possibility of finding my dear friend after so long! Of course I wrote him a note! (By the way, Darcy says Uranus against Uranus is rubbish.)
To my surprise, it was him! He answered soon after and we reconnected instantly, as if time hadn't passed at all. He's married to a cousin and has two teenage daughters. And he missed me as much as I missed him.
Only, at first, I didn't realize how much…
We started talking daily, met as often as we could, crossing continents and oceans, united our families and kept thirsty for our friendship.
One thing led to another and now… I don't know where this will lead us.
Lines are blurring in front of my eyes and I find myself loosing the ability to discern how I truly feel from what I should feel opposed to what I want to feel.
I'm standing on a cliff, my toes curled on the edge. Should I jump?
An old yearbook quote keeps coming back to me: "Don't overanalyze what you feel, autopsies only exist where there's no longer life."
Oh, I need a cigarette. And a dose of Darcy's single malt whisky. See? I need him to stop thinking about him…
How did it come to this? Well, like I said, it started with a note:
"Sorry to bother but, when a young girl, I used to correspond with the most presumptuous person I had ever met, so much so that he could only have blue blood in his veins. The heir of the richest estate-country in the whole England, His Royal Highness the Prince of Pemberley, had your name exactly and was a close friend who I miss dearly.
At the time, I was a passionate human rights enthusiast and HRH shared my views for a better world, as long as they didn't disturb his kingdom's peaceful life.
If, by an ingenious twist of fate it is you, please reply.
Cordially,
Your always loyal subject
Elizabeth Wickham, Bart. (Née Bennett)"
