When I mentioned on Facebook that I was writing the scene where Anne de Bourgh crashes Georgiana Darcy’s 18th birthday ball (for my work-in-progress, The Ladies of Rosings Park), I started to receive comments from enthusiastic friends about what they thought that scene should contain – creative suggestions I wished I could use for the book but couldn’t, since the book has to match the tone of Pride and Prejudice. Then I had this messaging conversation:
Friend: Wow! Anne crashing Georgie’s birthday ball sounds like it might be fun to read.
Me: Probably sounds more dramatic than it is. These people are all much too polite to cause an ugly scene, more’s the pity.
Friend: Bummer!
Me: Maybe I’ll write a mash-up version just for fun!
So that’s what I decided to do for this blog post. Here goes!
Anne de Bourgh made her way determinedly toward the door, outside of which a carriage waited to take her to London. “I am going to Georgiana’s ball, Mama. I am of age now, so there is nothing you can do to stop me.”
Lady Catherine followed close upon her heels, shaking her fist in the air. “You may be of age, but I still hold the purse strings. Just you remember that!”
Her daughter paused to deliver her parting salvo. “Perhaps I will find myself a rich husband at the ball, and then all your threats will be meaningless. In any case, I am going. Good-bye, Mama!”
The astonished but straight-faced butler opened the door, and Miss de Bourgh marched through it and on to the adventure ahead. She was quite shocked, really – probably no less so than her mother – that she had actually done it. She had stood up for herself and declared her emancipation from her domineering parent at last! Perhaps it was the recent upturn in her health that had given her the courage. Or perhaps she had finally reached her limit. It mattered only that she was liberated.
“Woohoo!” she shouted as the carriage left the grounds of Rosings Park. She raised her arms in jubilation, kicking up her heels and laughing hysterically. It was probably not decorous behavior. It was definitely not ladylike, and yet Anne cared no more than a jot. She had missed so much being cooped up in Kent; she did not mean to miss anything else, beginning with her cousin’s eighteenth birthday ball. She had another stop to make first, however.
Several hours later, the de Bourgh carriage, boasting its distinguished coat of arms, pulled to a stop in front of a brightly lit townhouse in Berkeley Square – one belonging to that old and honored family, the Darcys. The young lady who alighted, however, barely resembled the one who had come into London earlier that day by the same equipage. Her clothes – feathered headpiece down to her satin dancing slippers – were all new and up to date, and so was the styling of her hair. A bit of fresh color, expertly applied, highlighted her cheeks and lips.
No, it was not a miracle but the nearest thing to it that could be found this side of heaven – on Bond Street, to be more specific – something the fashionable establishment that performed the transformation called a Complete Makeover (which would soon become the rage among those with plenty of money and less than perfect appearance).
Now, finally, after years of being unfairly kept back from what was rightfully her due, Miss Anne de Bourgh, brimming with confidence, was ready to make her social debut. If only she had held an actual invitation to the ball, she should have felt no qualms whatsoever upon nearly reaching the door. But it was a small detail, one she trusted would be quickly overcome.
A forbidding-looking butler opened the door. “Good evening, Miss,” he said.
“Good evening,” she returned, inclining her head slightly. Anne intended to carry herself through the doorway in a regal manner so there would be no question of her belonging. Unfortunately, her new and unfamiliar slippers caused her to trip and nearly fall to the floor. She would have too, but for the butler’s quick action.
As he caught the young lady, he looked at her more closely. “Do you have an invitation, Miss?” he inquired haughtily.
What happened next is a matter of some dispute. Miss de Bourgh accused the butler of assaulting and otherwise hindering her person. The butler insisted that the lady was somehow to blame. In any case, noise of the scuffle between them soon brought Mr. Darcy to sort out the trouble.
“Is that you, Anne?” he asked, somewhat incredulous. “Heavens! What are you doing here?”
“Sir, kindly tell your man to unhand me!”
“Yes. Yes, of course. Henderson, please release the lady. She is my cousin Miss de Bourgh.” Darcy took his fair cousin’s coat and gave it to a waiting footman. “Now, come in, dear Anne. Come in. I was never so surprised to see anybody in my life, and looking so well too! You are most welcome, of course. Georgiana and Elizabeth will be delighted to see you. Indeed, we should certainly have sent you an invitation had we thought there was any possibility of your actually receiving it and also your mother’s permission to come.”
“Yes, well, I decided to come without – an invitation or Mama’s consent either one.”
“I applaud your courage and fortitude, my dear. Now do make yourself at home. You may find Georgiana through there,” he said, pointing the way. “On the other hand, you may not. She has been skittish as a colt tonight, and I have not seen her this half hour. I would almost swear that she has gone into hiding. But you will please excuse me now. I must return to my duties before things get completely out of hand.”
Anne watched the retreating back of her handsome cousin, the man originally intended to be her husband, and she felt… Honestly, she felt only relief that he had found a way to foil the plan. When she thought of marriage, which she did but rarely, she pictured quite a different sort of man – blonde perhaps, slightly built like herself, and spectacles. Yes a bookish gentleman would suit her perfectly.
Recalling herself from her musings, Anne smoothed her gown, struck an elegant pose, and looked about herself. What she saw was a party in full swing. The dancing had not begun, and yet the well-turned-out throng of people had already commenced carrying on. Their spirits were very high indeed, and it seemed that the largest bowl of punch she had ever seen was at the center of it all. What was in that punch, she wondered?
While Miss de Bourgh was noticing the room, the room – at least the male portion of it -had begun noticing her as well. When she strolled through in search of Miss Darcy, every gentleman’s head turned. One asked, “Who is that ethereal beauty? I’ve not seen her before.” “I heard Mr. Darcy call her his cousin, a Miss de Bourgh,” reported another. “Miss de Bourgh!” exclaimed a third. “Why, she is one of the richest ladies in the country. Miss Darcy’s fortune is nothing to hers.”
Within five minutes the report had circulated throughout the entire company, and nearly everybody present knew the newly arrived lady’s name, the exact size of her fortune, and the other singular fact: she was neither married nor engaged.
Anne was oblivious to all this. After stopping to enjoy a generous sample of the punch, which she found particularly refreshing, she continued her search for Georgiana. But the crowd began to press about her, and she could make no headway. Everywhere she turned, there was another smiling gentleman, contriving a way to introduce himself and beg the promise of a dance from her. She no more than succeeded in turning one away when two others took his place.
The situation became desperate. When Anne thought she might succumb to the crush, unable to breath, she spotted help. “Elizabeth!” she cried out with all the remaining air her lungs contained.
Mrs. Darcy heard, saw the lady in peril, and instantly perceived that the situation was indeed dire. She came to Anne’s rescue at once, a way gradually opening between them as the guests heeded her command to, “Step back. Step back, all of you. Give the lady some air. You men go away and stop bothering her or I shall have you thrown out of this house and onto the street, every one of you.”
“Come with me, my dear,” Mrs. Darcy told the lady in distress, leading her to a side room and closing the door behind them. “Now, do sit down and let me have a look at you.” Miss de Bourgh did as instructed. After a moment, Mrs. Darcy said, “There is something familiar… Oh, my goodness! Anne, can it be you?”
“It is, Elizabeth. Please do forgive me for making such a scene, especially uninvited as I am.”
“You are not the problem, Miss de Bourgh. It is the others.” Just then, the sound of a muffled sneeze told the two they were not alone. Elizabeth turned to find the source, which she did behind an ornately embroidered oriental screen. “Georgiana! What do you do there?”
The birthday girl replied, “Oh, Lizzy, I could not bear all those people looking at me any longer – the women wanting to find a flaw and the men hoping to win my fortune. Greetings, Cousin Anne,” she continued, going to shake her hand. “So nice of you to come. It has been ever so long, and my, how extremely well you look!”
“She does, indeed,” agreed Mrs. Darcy. “Now, we must think how best to proceed. Hiding here will not do for either one of you. Let me start by fetching each of you a bracing cup of punch.”
While Elizabeth was gone, Anne turned to her cousin. “Oh, Georgiana, I have done it at last! I have done what you encouraged me to do in your letters; I have taken a stand against Mama. As you know, she forbid me to ever see you or your brother again. But I told her I was going to your ball, whatever may come.”
“That was very brave of you, dear Anne! I hope you may not soon regret it.”
“Mama can threaten all she likes to disinherit me, but she has nobody else to leave her money to. Besides, I told her I will not need it because I intend to marry a very rich man.”
“And do you?”
“I suppose I would if the right one came along. What about you, dear Georgiana? But you are very young to concern yourself with finding a husband yet. You must dance and make merry – all the things I was deprived of at your age. You must not waste a single minute.”
“You make me very ashamed of myself, Anne. I urged you to take courage against your mother, and here you find me hiding from my own guests!”
Elizabeth returned with the promised punch. “Here we are, ladies. Drink this. I am sure it will do you good. I had some myself and found it highly therapeutic.”
Anne and Georgiana did as they were told; they each drank down a large draught of punch.”
“Feeling better?” asked Elizabeth. Both the others agreed that they were. “Excellent. Now let us all go out and enjoy your ball, Georgiana. Your brother has been waiting for you to begin the dancing.”
Thus fortified, the three women did just that. Miss Darcy soon discovered she was not as nervous as before, and Miss de Bourgh found the amorous gentlemen much more easily managed since Elizabeth had scolded them. They both danced and danced.
A good time was had by all, in fact, and the ball was an infamous success. All the papers said so.
Much was made of the two young heiresses and their entourage of followers. Speculation continued long about who Miss Darcy would marry in the end, since she showed no particular preference for one gentleman over another. But everybody in the know had already awarded Miss de Bourgh’s hand to Sir Nigel Harrington – a slight, bespectacled young nobleman who had never shown much aptitude for attracting the ladies before, despite all his thousands in the bank. The logic went like this: “Did Miss de Bourgh really dance a full ten dances with Sir Nigel? Then there can be no doubt in the matter; they must be secretly engaged.”
This kind of society gossip and speculation was rather standard fare however – entertaining for a time or until the next big thing came along. What made Miss Darcy’s ball truly unforgettable was something else entirely.
During the supper break, another scuffle was heard in the hall, followed by indignant words. “Unhand me, Henderson! You forget yourself. I am here to collect my daughter, and I will not be prevented!”
The indignant lady was soon identified as Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Her daughter heard the noise and came at once to see what could be done about it.
“Ah, there you are, Anne,” continued Lady Catherine upon seeing her approaching. “You are coming with me this instant.”
“Mama!” cried Miss de Bourgh in alarm. Then, after a moment’s consideration, she knew what to do. “Mama, you look tired.”
“Of course I am tired! You have given me much trouble today, you ungrateful child.”
“Yes, tired and overwrought. Come and have some punch to refresh yourself after your long journey.”
“Well… perhaps I will,” she said starting forward. “Then we must be off…”
Some say Lady Catherine stumbled all on her own. Some say she was tripped – by her daughter or by other means. What is known for certain is that the great lady somehow careened headlong, coming to rest with her face buried deep in the bowl of punch. Before she could be helped out again, she had apparently consumed a fair amount of the contents. She staggered and blustered her discontent, making an ugly scene before a host of witnesses. Mr. Darcy, therefore, had little choice. He gave the command that his aunt should be taken upstairs to one of the guest apartments and put to bed straightaway so that the party could continue, which it did until early morning’s light.
Ah, yes, it was truly a night to remember!
I hope you enjoyed this lively version of events at Georgiana’s ball. In The Ladies of Rosings Park, the scene will take place at Pemberley and play out a little differently, although still with some fireworks. Please stay tuned!
“I am sure he fell in love with you at the ball; I am sure the mischief was done that evening. You did look remarkable well. Everybody said so…” (Mansfield Park, chapter 33)
Don’t you love the title? Once it came to me, I had to go with it.
It was lovely, and we had some wonderful times along the way. Part of the fun has been sharing our experiences with others. Whereas Jane Austen sent letters, I’ve been sharing things on social media. (I hope you have enjoyed the pictures on FB!)
But what of that sagging middle I was worried about? Is it going to be a tough slog for readers when they get there? No, I don’t think so. I was forgetting that this whole section will be entirely unexplored territory for most, with lots of new action and revelations. What happens to Anne de Bourgh when Darcy marries Elizabeth instead? Is she devastated or relieved? As an heiress, even a sickly one, she must have other suitors. Who are they, and do any of them steal her heart? Does Lady Catherine accept the defeat of her original plan gracefully or keep conniving? What about Anne’s health? Does it ever improve? If so, how? And (what I think is a particularly intriguing question) what really happened to her father, Sir Lewis de Bourgh? He’s absent and presumably dead, but is that all there is to the story?
Some of you may have seen this last month at Austen Variations, but I wanted to reproduce my post here, so I would have it as a permanent part of my own blog. Yes, it’s that important to me!
There was probably a lot more to Jane Austen’s story than is generally known, I decided.
I introduced her to the dashing Captain Devereaux, and they really hit it off. More romance for Jane: check! That’s great, but I still wasn’t content; I desperately wanted it ALL for her. Including the happy ending? How fabulous would that be?
That’s why I no longer have to mourn over an early death for Jane Austen. Instead, I think of her plausible alternative. 
“Port Alberni? Where’s that?”
Since I was so warmly invited, since Port Alberni isn’t all that far from Seattle (or so it appears on the map), and since I had the weekend free on my calendar, I decided to go. We could make a mini-vacation of it, I thought. The scenery was sure to be spectacular. I’d have the chance to dress up, talk to people about my books, and soak up the general Jane Austen atmosphere. And with a little luck, my husband might even catch the spirit. Surely he would want to support the record attempt by dressing Regency long enough to be counted. At least I dared to hope so.
Then it was off to the pier for a promenade, which turned out to be a very windy affair. “Hang on to your bonnets!” Next came a Jane Austen inspired lunch (with my first taste of the celebrated “white soup” – quite tasty!), followed by author readings (I did a well-received excerpt from The Persuasion of Miss Jane Austen), and very entertaining mini-play versions of Persuasion and Emma.
Saturday was a very full day, and I slept well that night. A picnic at a local park was the only thing on the schedule for Sunday. Some people went all out for that too, as you can see. Then it was time to do a little sightseeing before saying farewell to Port Alberni and all the friends we made there.
Yes, we had all the above: a great deal of enjoyment, novelty, beauty, and a fresh place that made an agreeable impression on me.
“Miss Bennet,” replied her ladyship, in an angry tone, “you ought to know that I am not to be trifled with. But however insincere 
Dear Aunt,
As some of you know, this year is the 200th anniversary of Jane Austen’s much-too-early death, and many of the faithful are noting events leading up to the end as they pass on the calendar. Yesterday (May 24th), for example, marked the day when Jane left her home in Chawton for what would turn out to be the last time, seeking medical help in Winchester, where she later died.
Reading the recent posts about Jane’s move to Winchester (such as 
So, I said goodbye to my mother, knowing it would be, in all likelihood, the last time I would see her on this side of heaven, and I allowed myself to be carried off to Winchester. Cassandra travelled with me in my brother James’s carriage, with Henry and my nephew William riding escort alongside.
We drove on to College Street, where we had arranged to rent rooms, but attaining those rooms was no easy task. In my dependent state, I had to nearly be carried up the narrow flight of stairs. I was especially glad for young William’s presence then, for it was an awkward business and I doubt as to Henry’s being able to have managed it on his own. Once more I apologised for my helplessness, and once more I was assured that my friends considered it a privilege to be of service to me.
The best feature of our apartment was the neat little drawing room, which boasted a bow window with a view to the street, the old city wall, and Dr. Gabell’s garden. It was a pleasant room, but as I looked about myself I could not help wondering if I would ever leave that place again. Were those four walls, with the faded paisley paper peeling at the seams, the last sight my eyes would behold before closing forever? If so, the glories of heaven were sure to be the more impressive for the dramatic contrast.
First, let me thank everyone who has already read one or both of my two new releases, Leap of Faith and Leap of Hope, especially those who have gone the extra mile and posted a review. I appreciate your confidence and support more than I can say!
Two things Anne de Bourgh understood from a very early age: first, that she was loved by her father, and second, that she would one day marry Fitzwilliam Darcy.
“My sister and I arranged it all between ourselves,” Lady Catherine frequently told her only child, sometimes varying her exact words but never her conclusion. “And the men mean to make no difficulty about it. When the time comes, you shall marry your cousin. It is not only the cherished wish of your mother and aunt, it is a solemn promise and therefore to be considered a settled engagement. The two great estates will thus be united in one family. There could be no connection more highly desirable on either side, no alliance more perfectly natural.”
Today’s the opening day of baseball season! We’ve made it through that 2-month-long drought after Superbowl, where there was nothing to watch on TV, sports-wise, except soccer and basketball, neither of which interest me very much. Now, there will be a Mariners’ game on almost every night to keep me company while I clean up the kitchen, fold the laundry, or putter around on the internet. And just maybe this, at long last, will be Seattle’s year!
For me, baseball is just one of many interests, a pleasant diversion, an undemanding entertainment – not my passion. But for someone aspiring to play the game professionally, it is serious business and, by necessity, an all-consuming passion. Nothing less than single-minded dedication would produce success in one of the most competitive sports on the planet.
Baseball is a beautiful game, one that has been stitched into the fabric of my life since I began playing when I was eight years old. I spent seventeen years on the field and sixteen of them as a catcher behind home plate – a fitting name, for no matter which field, that patch of ground always feels like home to me.
…But, looking back, was it all worth it? – the enormous effort and countless sacrifices made so I could play professional baseball?
victory by the collective sum of their individual efforts.
Now it’s time for me to go on book tour! – virtual book tour, that is, visiting several blogs this month as a guest blogger, all in an effort to get the word out about Leap of Faith and Leap of Hope to a wider audience. Along the way, I’ll be giving more books away (but you still have one day left to enter to win the biggest giveaway at the 
My big double launch day is finally here! And I do mean FINALLY. One of these two books has been waiting a very long time for its turn at publication.
I’ve always been intrigued by the idea that a single choice in life can change everything that happens subsequently. For example, what if rather than choosing to go to college A, where you met your future spouse, you had selected college B? Would you have ended up marrying someone else instead, and consequently having different children? Yikes! Even a minor decision (such as where to eat lunch, what to order, or what route to take getting there) might make the difference between an ordinary day and winding up in the hospital from food poisoning or a car accident. Of course, being the romantic that I am, I’m thinking you might meet that certain someone wonderful in the hospital, which you never would have if you hadn’t gotten sick/injured. The possible variations are endless.
At the Crossroads Center, they’re in the business of granting second chances. And their newest client is Ben Lewis, a former star athlete who never recovered from the death of his dream to make it big in the big leagues. Now he’s being offered the opportunity to return to 1991 and try again, this time without the illness that originally ended his baseball hopes. What’s the catch? He will pay for his second chance by forfeiting his memories of the first… and possibly along with them, the love of his life. Can he find his way home to the woman he’s long forgotten but never stopped missing? Or will reaching for the brass ring with both hands cause the treasure he once possessed to slip forever from his grasp?
At the Crossroads Center, they’re in the business of handing out second chances. And their newest client is Hope O’Neil – college student and Jane Austen devotee, who has always believed she’d be more at home in the past, wearing corsets and courted by men in cravats. But can a modern girl really fit into a world with no electricity, cell phones, or indoor plumbing? Hope is about to find out when her wish for an Austen kind of life is unexpectedly granted. Although she envisions her second chance will be like something straight out of Pride and Prejudice – complete with her own Mr. Darcy and a romantic happy ending – she gets more than she bargained for in this delightful romp through Regency England… a lot more.
Join me as I weave together my passion for writing and my love of all things Jane Austen. Please also look for me on Facebook.
