Excerpt
This is the excerpt that was featured at the Meryton Press Cover Reveal for Kiss Me Good Night, Major Darcy.
Lizzy looked around the room expectantly. The band was just finishing a tune. Then, a trio of ladies took the stage and launched into “The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B.” Their close harmony was spot on and every bit as good as the Andrews Sisters! Lizzy was dying to dance. She caught the eye of a nice-looking soldier who immediately approached her.
“Miss,” he said, “would you like to dance?”
“I’d love to!” Lizzy replied. “Do you mind, Jane?”
“Of course not,” her sister said.
Elizabeth flashed a triumphant smile at Major Darcy. He could have asked her to dance, but the idea of the staid man doing the jitterbug was unimaginable.
The soldier swung Lizzy onto the floor, and they fell into the steps, flying in unison across the parquet and looking as if they were in the Imperial Finals at the Paramount on Tottenham Court Road! He was an excellent dancer and led Lizzy flawlessly through moves she had only imagined doing. She was laughing breathlessly. When was the last time she had had this much fun? When she happened to look in the direction of their table, she saw Major Darcy watching her intently. He had turned away from the others and was staring directly at her. She threw him a carefree grin. Elizabeth scoffed that he was probably shocked at her uninhibited behavior, but she could not care less. Let him think whatever he wanted.
The song ended, and Lizzy shook hands with the soldier. As he returned her to her table, another fellow asked if she would dance. The tune was not as energetic, so they fell into a foxtrot. The previous song had been more fun, but this was very nice as well. The soldier was a good dancer as most of the men in the hall seemed to be. Lizzy let the rhythms of the music flow over her. There was no war, no death, and no destruction—only the swaying of their bodies in time and in company with the others. Conversation was limited to a few perfunctory remarks, but the mood did not feel right to encourage anything more. When the song was over, she thanked him as they walked back to her table.
As she approached, Major Darcy stood and held out a hand to her. “May I have the next dance, Miss Bennet.”
“Only if you call me Elizabeth,” she replied with a smile.
“Very well,” he said, barely cracking one himself.
If she had thought her last partner had been proficient on the dance floor, she was surprised to find that Darcy’s foxtrot made the other’s seem amateurish. His arms were strong yet relaxed as he led her across the floor. It felt as though they had been dancing together forever—as if they were formed for each other. Elizabeth’s face flushed as she looked up into his. He was gazing down at her. For a moment, their eyes locked, and energy surged through her core. Quickly, though, she remembered Private Wickham and his tale, which dashed cold water on…that…something. Her anger flared, but she managed to tamp it down. This was neither the time nor the place to bring it up. Major Darcy seemed disinclined toward any conversation.
“My previous partner and I spoke while we danced,” she finally said, smiling. “I think it makes the activity all the more enjoyable.”
“I prefer not to talk while I dance.”
She seized on the opportunity to tease him. “Why is that Major Darcy? Do you not consider yourself an adept conversationalist?”
“I am when the occasion arises.”
She let her smile fade, tipped her head slightly, and allowed only her eyes to reflect the humor she felt. “What occasions suit your criteria?”
“Over a dinner table,” he said seriously, “tea with an acquaintance, catching up with a friend. I do enjoy conversation when the moment is right for it.”
“Do you?”
“I just said I did.”
She paused. Her teasing was leading them nowhere, certainly not through his reserve. Her tone became more serious. “Do you have many close friends, Major Darcy?”
His eyes took on a faraway look. “No. Bingley is one; Duncan was another.”
This was sad territory. She was still curious though. “What about Miss Bingley? Charles made it sound like the four of you were a close lot, one that includes your sister.”
He sighed. “I suppose you could say that. My sister is my sister though. We don’t talk about intimate things. Words that pass between friends often are those you can never say to a relative.”
This was too good an opening to let pass. “It’s recently come to my attention that we have a friend in common who also knows your sister.”
His eyes grew wide. “To whom are you referring?”
“Private George Wickham. He’s a recent acquaintance—one might say a friend. He spoke of you and your sister when last I saw him.”
Darcy’s back stiffened against her hand. “What did he say?”
“That you and he had been very close once. That he practically grew up with your family; that Georgiana was a ‘sweet kid’ as he put it.”
“Interesting,” he said bitterly. “We indeed grew up together, but George Wickham and I were not close.”
“Ah. I misunderstood. He did say he admired your father very much. He said it was because of him that he was able to attend Cambridge.”
“This is also true,” Darcy’s face grew grim.
“I find myself wondering, then, why he didn’t also attend the Officer’s Academy when the war broke out. It seems strange.”
“Not everyone is cut out to be an officer,” he replied. He no longer looked at her, but off into the distance.
“I suppose.”
They danced without speaking for a few more minutes.
It was he who broke the silence. “Miss—er—I mean, Elizabeth, you would do well not to believe everything you hear. There are always two sides to a story, you know.”
How dare he lecture me! “Well then, what’s your side? Did you have something to do with him not getting into Academy?”
He looked down at her coldly. “Yes, I did.”
She gasped. “How could you?”
“I am not at liberty to say why, nor do I owe an explanation to you.”
She was speechless. She forced herself to get through their dance, but as soon as it was finished, she broke away from him and marched back to the table. She grabbed her ale, now warm, and downed it in one long gulp. It was unladylike, but she was beyond caring.
“Lizzy,” Jane whispered to her, touching her arm, “are you all right?”
She clenched her teeth. “Perfectly.”
