AN: Well, here I am, back again and glad of it.
No sooner had I put Altered Deeds to bed with the final note that I was preparing Betrayed by Forgotten Fears, now available on Amazon as Found in the Snow, for publication, than both Lady Catherine and Maria Lucas started talking to me. I mean almost as I was hitting the button to publish the epilogue for Altered Deeds! What gives?
If you are picturing the old cliché image of an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, well, that is actually what it felt like. Here they were, both feeding me the start of a story (two different stories, that is) while I was trying to clear my mind to edit the one I wanted to publish. For a little while I felt like I was going in several directions at once. (Think of the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz movie as he crosses his arms pointing both left and right and says, "Of course, some people do go both ways.") I accepted dictation of a chapter from each of them and then asked them to sit back for a little while and let me finish the project I had in hand. Sweet, polite Maria did as I asked. Not Lady Catherine, though. Of course, not. I would be going through my story, editing for misplaced words and missing quotation marks and all of a sudden she would be trying to dictate paragraphs of the new story. I let her dictate a second chapter and then used the odd moments in my commute and times I could not be working on editing to draft an outline. I kept trying to set it aside, but she kept talking.
Finally, I took a little while and got the outline into shape and a few more chapters drafted out. With as loud and insistent as Lady Catherine was being, I thought her point of view was going to pervade the story, but by the time the outline was done, I realized Richard was actually going to be a major player in this variation.
The story you are about to begin mixes some elements of Sleeping Beauty, a bit of Cinderella and a few other random fairy tales, all without the actual magic. It is not really a cross-over for any of them, more an echo of an idea. I hope it will meet the promise of the original idea and outline. If it does, I think it will be a very enjoyable story.
The posting schedule will be as often as my real life schedule allows. Work and life have both been a bit crazy the last couple of months, so I am making no promises beyond a promise to see the story to the end. Let the fun begin…
Nightfall...
As each lamp was lit, the truth of the situation became more clear to the woman sitting quietly in the ornate chair. The golden glow of the flames reflected in the facets of the carefully-cut jet beads strung around her neck and dripping from her ears. The hints of light and sparkle did nothing to soften the severe look of the elegantly dressed woman. Though of finest silk, and designed in the height of fashion, with wide panniers, ruched edgings and an abundance of ribbons, the gown was uniformly black, a shade that drained any color from her face and contrasted starkly with the powdered white mass of hair piled on her head in the latest style and embellished with black ostrich feathers.
It was difficult to tell her age between the black of the gown and the white of her hair and complexion, but her face and hands were unwrinkled and her piercing blue eyes were bright and sharp – too sharp. Her expression held a mix of sorrow, frustration and anger that welcomed no comment or good cheer.
The sound of the door behind her closing with a small snick of the latch announced that the servant had finished his work and gone to deal with his next duty. The sound also signaled the end of the public day. Her household was run on a regular schedule and the lighting of the lamps in this room meant it was now become too dark outside to make the arrival of visitors or deliveries likely.
"I am most seriously displeased," she announced in frosty tones to the world in general, although the woman was alone in the room now. The small fire in the grate crackled slightly, but there was no other response to the comment. She expected none, even if she would have relished the chance of a listener to validate her complaints.
She had plenty of complaints to make, but chief among them was the one that now occupied her thoughts. Day after day she had waited for a letter to come by messenger or even, common though it was, by post, containing an invitation to the christening of Thomas Bennet's second daughter. Yet day after day, no invitation had arrived. Now, it was the day before the christening and the lighting of the lamps made it clear no invitation would come.
She smoothed the skirts of her black gown as she thought over her grievance in the matter. How they could have forgotten to invite her, she did not know. After all, her husband had been the oldest daughter's godfather. He had even left a bequest for the girl in his will. For years Thomas Bennet and her husband had been friends. That her husband was dead now should not matter. In fact, it made the lack of an invitation to his widow more grave. Not that she cared about the girl in the least, either girl, for that matter. It was the principle of the thing – as the widow of Bennet's good friend she should have been invited to such an important event. As it was, she would not even have known of the christening if her brother had not mentioned his plans to attend in a letter she had received a few weeks before.
"It is not to be borne!" she said aloud, her affronted tones breaking the silence of the room. Part of a log shifted and fell with a fiery crunch in the fireplace, as if dislodged by her words. She paid no attention to it. Her mind was occupied with her thoughts of Bennet's insolent disrespect.
"They shall pay for this insult. It is not to be borne." She repeated her favorite expression of displeasure. No, it was not to be borne. They would pay. But how?
For some time, the woman continued deep in thought, considering the ways and means while tapping her foot impatiently in time with her angry thoughts. Then, a slow smile replaced the severe frown, if smile it could be called, for she had a thoroughly unpleasant gleam in her eyes.
"Yes, that will do nicely. If I can manage it correctly. But, of course, I can. Slowly, steadily, I will pay them back for years to come. Yes…" she thought on the matter further, the grim, nasty smile still on her face. Finally, she nodded, speaking to the empty room again.
"She must be well-educated for a start. Too well-educated. With what I know of Thomas Bennet, he will play right into that if the girl shows even the least aptitude for learning. If she does not, I will have to change my plan, but I have time – plenty of time."
She smoothed her black gown again, then settled back into her chair, her fingers drumming lazily on the gilt-covered wooden arms. The smile became a smirk.
"First, I must gain a strong foothold, a position from which I can influence matters as I wish." She paused, considered and decided.
"That will do. Yes, it will be perfect. I am off to Meryton tomorrow, as early as possible. I must make it there in time for the christening whether I was invited or not. They can hardly refuse to make me the girl's godmother if I give them no time to take measures against me. As her godmother, I can manage everything."
Energized by the decision, she quickly rose from her seat and pulled the bell. She must give her orders now so there would be no delay in the morning. Before the service began the following day she must be in Meryton to attend it. Her plan might take sixteen or seventeen years to come to fruition, but that only added to the spice of it. It meant she would have a project to occupy her idle moments and keep her entertained. In the end, they would know the fullness of her wrath and they would pay.
Above all, the Bennets of Longbourn would learn how foolish it had been to insult Lady Catherine de Bourgh.