It’s a Wonderful Life, Mr. Darcy

I’m thrilled to present to you It’s a Wonderful Life, Mr. Darcy!

From the title, you have already guessed that the basic premise is borrowed from the beloved movie (beloved my me, at least) It’s a Wonderful Life, where George Bailey, at a very low ebb in his life, is given the gift of seeing what the world would be like if he’d never been born. In this case, though, it’s Mr. Darcy who winds up in that situation. Here’s the official book blurb:

Imagine a world without Mr. Darcy. How would things have been different if he had never been born? In a moment of despair over Elizabeth’s rejection, the iconic hero of “Pride and Prejudice” wishes his life away. Now, on a tour with a surprising celestial guide, he must face up to the results. Instead of everybody being better off, as he had supposed, there have been unexpected consequences for his closest friends. Darcy realizes, too late, that his presence made a positive difference in the world, and that he really had a wonderful life. Is it all lost and gone forever?

This story is completely unlike anything else I’ve ever written (but then I like new writing challenges). For one thing, it’s not a novel. At 67 pages, I’ve been told it should be called a novelette! And technically it’s fantasy, I guess – glimpses across time, ghostly visitation, parallel reality.  Or was it only a dream?

Here’s the way it begins, with Darcy himself telling the story:

It is Christmas evening – my first of many happy Christmases with Elizabeth, God willing – and we have dear friends gathered at Pemberley to share it with us. Georgiana is here, of course, and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mr. Bingley and Jane have come, as well as the entire Gardiner family.

I glance at Elizabeth, who sits by my side, her hand tucked in mine. We exchange contented smiles, and I know I am the most fortunate of men.

It has been a full and satisfying day.

We woke to a blanket of white resting an inch or two thick on the ground – enough to delight everybody but not enough to create much inconvenience. So we were still able to safely reach Kympton to attend divine services on this holy day. Afterward, the Gardiner children played on the lawn, throwing snowballs and building what they could with the limited supply of the white stuff. Some of the adults braved the chilly air again as well, joining in the children’s play or just strolling about in the wintery scene, all of us bundled up in our warmest clothing.

Indoors, there have been games and conversation, along with good things to eat morning, noon, and night: hearty but simple fare for the most part, much of it prepared yesterday to lighten the load on the servants today. A few of them volunteered to remain on duty. But most – anybody with family in the area – have gone off for their own Christmas celebrations.

Now I can see through the drawing room windows that the sky is painted with more pink and orange hues than blues. The candles are lit, and the day is coming to a close. As I look about myself, at my comfortable home and the happy faces of my dear ones, I could wish to remain in this present moment forever.

And yet my thoughts refuse to do so. Without warning, the cheerful Christmas scene is now changed for something entirely different. Images from a much darker period suddenly appear, unbidden, before my mind’s eye. Familiar sensations, both frightening and exquisitely painful, clutch at my heart.

I resist the temptation to blink them away at once. Instead, I briefly allow the powerful recollections to wash over me again, as they so often have done since the event took place. It is good to remember, so that I never take Elizabeth and all my other blessings for granted. And so, for just a minute or two, I give myself over to reliving that wonderful, terrible time.

It happened eight months ago, in April, just after Elizabeth refused my first dismal proposal. That was a devastating blow indeed, and it must have in some manner brought on the strange episode that followed. I can conceive of no other explanation. This is the question which still lingers, however; was it real or only some kind of extraordinary dream? One could rightly call it a nightmare except for what I learnt by it. A painful event, once survived, may be counted a treasure if it proves to have been of tremendous value in the end.

The experience to which I refer certainly was – a valuable treasure, I mean. In truth, I count it a great gift, one I shall never forget. Christmas is a time of gift giving, is it not? Perhaps that is why the peculiar episode comes back to my mind again now. But if not a mere dream or even a nightmare, what shall I call it?

It was a visitation.

So there you have it, the prologue. Are you intrigued? I hope so! And you can continue the story right away by getting your very own Kindle copy for just $2.99. It’s also available in audiobook (with the incomparable Harry Frost narrating) and paperback. All are available at Amazon.

In case you’re wondering,  the parallels to the movie are actually very few beyond the basic premise. But I’m curious how many of you will recognize the nod to Zuzu’s petals that I tucked in. Let me know if you do!