Forevers in Fenwick

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Unsuitable suitors on WIP Wednesday

 

This week’s excerpt has a hero with an unusual trade, and a heroine who can spot a fortune-hunter at fifty yards. It’s from Set in Stone, which is on preorder for August 4th.

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Once they’d crossed another stile, Arianna could see the harbor, where half a dozen boats floated, some of them tied up to one of the long wooden quays, and a couple at anchor further out in the water.

Most of them looked old and battered, but Mr. Medlock pointed to one that looked newer, fresher, and in better repair than the rest. “That is the Cormorant, Miss Westbrook. And the shape on the deck is the diving bell.”

Arianna had met Mr. Medlock’s partner, Mr. Benniston. When they boarded the Cormorant, he introduced her to his other partner, Captain Arkright, and the two gentlemen conducted her all over the ship.

She saw the diving suits, and the copper helmets with their little windows and the weird leather tubes for air. The diving bell had the same kind of tubes, but bigger. She asked if she could look inside the bell, but its rim rested on the ground, and when she tried to look through the glass windows near the top, she couldn’t see anything but shadow.

They also showed her the pumps that took the air from the surface to the divers. Arianna tried to move the handle, but was not strong enough.

Then she was permitted to look into the cabins where the gentlemen slept when they were onboard. Mr. Medlock and Mr. Benniston shared, and the captain’s cabin was also their meeting place, with a big table that Mr. Medlock said was for charts and meals.

They passed the door of the cabin were the four divers slept. The sailors, Captain Arkright said, slung their hammocks behind another door that they also passed. She saw the galley, though, where the meals were prepared.

Then, when they went back up on deck, she discovered the two gentlemen had arranged for a couple of the sailors who were aboard at the time to winch the bell up so she could crouch down and then straighten up inside. It was all so fascinating.

Both men were so interesting, and so willing to answer her questions. Arianna would have stayed longer, but Brownlee pointed out that they had been gone for nearly two hours. “Your Mama will need me to help her dress for dinner,” she said.

“We had better go back,” Arianna admitted. “Mr. Medlock, Captain Arkright, thank you so much. I have enjoyed myself enormously.”

Mr. Medlock insisted on escorting Arianna home, though she assured him she would be safe with Brownlee. Captain Arkright came as far as the inn with them, but Mr. Medlock walked them all the way to Mrs. Peabody’s door.

Inside, Mama was awake, dressed, and angry. “I have had enough, Arianna Westbrook. You turned down two perfectly respectable gentlemen to go walking with that… that… tradesman. You are trying to ruin yourself. Well, I won’t have it. Do you hear? That nice Mr. Mills has made an offer for your hand, and I have accepted on your behalf.”

“I refuse, Mama,” said Arianna. “I will continue to refuse. In private and in public. At the church itself, if need be. I shall not marry Mr. Mills.”

“We shall see about that,” said Mama, and suddenly she moved, giving Arianna an almighty shove so she stumbled backward into the visitor’s parlor. Someone caught her before she could fall, wrapping his arms around her from the back. She could feel him behind her, her body leaning against his, and when she looked over her shoulder, there was Mr. Mills, fake smile and all.

“Miss Westbrook, Arianna, at last!”

Arianna struggled to escape his embrace. “Unhand me, you villain!” It sounded like a line from a farce, but Arianna wasn’t finding any of this funny. Mama had slammed the door shut, trapping her alone with Mr. Mills. Furthermore, she had heard the key turn in the lock.

“Now, now, Arianna, no need for maidenly alarms,” said Mr. Mills. Perhaps he meant to sound soothing rather than patronizing. If so, he failed. “We are betrothed, dear, and betrothed couples are permitted time alone together.”

“I reject the betrothal,” Arianna told him. “I refuse to marry you.”

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Spotlight on The Legend Begins: Book 1 in the Forevers from Fenwick series

Ah, Fenwick On Sea! A humble village, somewhat forgotten by time. But not for long if the innkeeper has his way! Rumor of a fae blessing upon his inn is exactly what he needs to draw crowds back to the neglected village. Of course, it’s only talk. Or is it?

When an earl takes up residence on a nearby estate, Barnaby Ash thinks his task to catalogue the gentleman’s library will be a simple one. However, among the many volumes, he is intrigued to find an ancient, illustrated folio. He certainly does not expect its effect on him to be quite so alarming. Barnaby is far too sensible to believe in magic, but there is no denying that he is changing. And when he realizes someone has actually tampered with the manuscript, he is determined to unearth all its secrets.

Joy Tully, the church warden’s adventurous, outspoken, and—sigh, still-unmarried—daughter, volunteers to help Barnaby solve the mysteries surrounding the strange book. His earnest approach to everything soon wins her over. And Joy is exactly the sort of free spirit to stir Barnaby’s quiet heart.

Just in time, too. For their growing feelings are at the heart of bringing Fenwick’s Blessing of Forevers to life. Cassandra Richards, a lady’s companion of questionable birth, meets a man and his horse on a stormy afternoon, two love stories unfold. One will reveal her past and show her how to escape the attentions of a not-so-gentlemanly gentleman. The other… Well, let’s just say you’ll be hearing it from the horse’s mouth.

The Legend Begins is the first book in a new multi-author novella series by the Bluestocking Belles.

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Excerpt from The Legend Begins:

Rev. Taylor stepped forward, waving at Barnaby to join him. “Mr. Tully, we have a learned visitor here. He is staying up at Hill House and has made a most fascinating discovery. Show him, Mr. Ash.”

Barnaby looked around at the expectant faces. “I’d rather not open the manuscript in the garden, if you don’t mind. It’s very old and valuable.”

“Well, you’d best come in then,” said Miss Tully, throwing the door open wider for Barnaby to enter.

The crowd pushed forward to follow.

“Oy, not you lot,” cried Mr. Tully. “Just the reverend and this Mr. Ash fellow. “Me parlor ‘as just been swept. Come on in, Reverend, and wipe yer feet.”

Grumbles of protest emerged from the bystanders, but Mr. Tully was not moved. He simply ushered his unwanted guests inside and shut the door—perhaps a little more firmly than necessary.

“What’s this about a manuscript?” he said, turning to face Barnaby and glaring uncharitably at the parcel in his hands. “I’m not a scholar meself. I can keep the records well enough for the church, but I don’t know as why you’d be showing me the fancy stuff.”

Barnaby unwrapped and laid the book open upon the low table.

A gasp from Miss Tully caused him to look up. Her eyes—blue and bright—were rivetted upon the page. She leaned closer, tucking a few dark-blonde strands of hair behind her ear. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“You can read it?” asked Barnaby, his heart hitching into his throat.

“Oh no,” she replied, straightening again. “But the pictures are…” She searched for the right expression. “Almost other-worldly. The colors…” Her words trailed off as she gazed once more upon the page.

“Is it one of them old bibles wot the monks used to copy in olden times?” inquired Mr. Tully, seemingly curious in spite of himself.

“No,” answered Barnaby, turning the page with great care. “You see.” He gestured at the illustration of the dancing fae. “It speaks of fairies. Fairies that were sighted here, in Fenwick.”

Tully wiped the back of his hand across his nose and sniffed. “Can’t be holding with that sort of nonsense. I’m a God-fearing man, I am. Why do you bring this into my home, Reverend?” He looked up at the clergyman, his eyes narrowed. “You’re not one of them types who muddles up Scripture with the Old Ways, are ye?”

“Certainly not!” The young vicar’s habitual smile melted clean away. “I merely hope to help Mr. Ash here solve something of a mystery.”

“A mystery?” Miss Tully’s eyes shone up at Barnaby. “What sort of mystery?”

Meet Elizabeth

Elizabeth Donne’s writing is a natural outpouring of a lifelong love affair with English literature. Although she has spent most of her life in Cape Town, South Africa, she now lives in the American Midwest, where she enthusiastically introduces her visitors to the joys of drinking rooibos tea. With a biscuit, of course.