In Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen mentioned angels several times. What if there were real angels inhabiting England then?
In this spicy tale of Austen's historical novel, the romance of Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet takes on a bumpy paranormal twist. Challenged by the intervention of demons and deities, can our favourite couple find the strength to forge their love? Will Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth overcome pride as well as prejudice, and find each other?
This steamy, emotional Pride and Prejudice retelling will take fans of the perennial favorite on an exhilarating journey that transcends dimensions. But be warned: this book is not suitable for Jane Austen purists.
"Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet are hot together and come off as more believable characters than the original intended" - 5 Stars from, Acquanetta Ferguson, San Diego Examiner (17 Jan 2010)
"If I started reading REALLY ANGELIC with a well-manicured coif, freshly ironed clothes, and were primly sitting in my comfortable, leather arm chair, I came out of the read thrown on the floor, hair sexily tussled, a youthful rosy tinge to my cheeks, and a look of pure satisfaction that reached down from my eyes to the corners of my upturned lips. That's what reading this story was like. Mr. Darcy is sometimes awkward, always aloof, and occasionally haughty; but he's also insatiable and sexy and truth be told - a little bit dirty. And I liked it! Elizabeth is sharp, intelligent, and while part of her wants to stay proper, she enjoys being wanton. Now that's an angel I could relate to and appreciate!" - 4 Blue Ribbons from Romance Junkies
"I highly recommend this one for anyone who loves Pride and Prejudice..." - 5 Stars from Reading with Monie (22 Jan 2010).
Really Angelic has been ranked in the top 30 best-selling Regency romances on Amazon Canada.
Elizabeth Bennet was a happy, cheery girl. To the delight of her father, she loved to read and showed sign of intelligence. But to the dismay of her mother, she loved the countryside too much. She seemed always to be running about, playing with animals and climbing trees.
Her mischief often landed her sisters and friends in difficult situations. One of those circumstances occurred when she was ten years old.
It was a bright summer day. Elizabeth was playing, together with her neighbour Luke Lucas and her younger sister Kitty, near the main road to London.
“Let us play throw,” Elizabeth challenged Luke. He was the elder by two years but had only grown taller than she was in the past few months. His new vertical advantage was a fact she disliked a great deal.
She picked up a small piece of rock from the ground and pointed to the tall oak tree. “Whoever’s stone reaches a branch taller will be the victor.”
Kitty clapped her hands with delight and agreed to the game. Luke shook his head. “I do not want to play with girls,” he said and continued to kick the tree absently.
Elizabeth stepped closer. “What do you have against girls?”
“You make mischief and put the blame on me if we are found out.”
“I do no such thing!” Her hands were fisted on her hips. “You are only afraid that I can throw higher than you.”
“It is a stupid game anyway,” he replied and started towards his house.
Kitty looked at her sister with a frown and decided to follow Luke.
“Coward!” Elizabeth shouted after them. “Traitor!” She stalked off in the opposite direction. Bending down to pick up stones, she threw them aimlessly to vent her frustration for nearly quarter of an hour. She was nearer to the main road than she had realised and did not, in her temper, notice that a grand carriage was passing by.
Her last throw struck one of the horses.
The steed startled, reared up. The driver was unable to control the other horses, with the result that the carriage tipped to one side and crashed noisily to the roadway.
Screams and yells emanated from within it. Then within seconds, silence returned again.
With her hands over her mouth, Elizabeth stood frozen on the spot. Her first instinct was to run home and hide. She had killed an entire carriage of innocent people!
But then moans became audible. Elizabeth ran nearer to the source and saw that the sounds came from a young man sprawled in the roadway with one of his legs trapped beneath the top edge of the carriage. He was tall, she noted, with dark curly hair. His feature was very handsome and he was immaculately dressed.
“Are you well, sir?” Elizabeth asked in a trembling voice.
“How are my men?” he asked. She left him and ran to check on other men – four of them – strewn upon the roadway.
“They are unconscious but breathing,” she reported back to him.
“Help me get free then. I need to see to them.” He struggled to get his leg out but the carriage would not move. He gave a shout of pain and frustration, and then looked askance at Elizabeth’s form. “You are too small. Perhaps you had best run and ask for help.”
She shook her head. “I must help you. I accidentally startled your horse. I am truly sorry,” she admitted, with tears in her eyes.
She then put her small hands beneath the roof of the carriage. With a sudden surge of energy and a loud scream, she lifted the tip of the carriage up from the ground by several inches.
Both of them were flabbergasted by her strength. When the young man did not immediately move, she yelled, “Pull your leg out. I cannot hold it any longer.”
He moved back immediately and pulled his leg free, just before she gave out another scream and let the carriage drop back to the ground. Stunned, she sank down beside the young man, panting heavily.
“However did you summon such strength?” he asked, gazing at her in astonishment.
She shook her head. “I do not know.”
Before she could stand up and help him, she heard another carriage approaching. As soon as she glimpsed it, she knew that it bore Sir William Lucas, and she felt a thrill of panic. Surely he would tell her parents.
She said quickly to the young man, “I am truly sorry about this incident. I hope your servants will recover soon.” Then she scrambled away from him.
“Wait!” he called after her. “What is your name?”
She only shook her head and ran to hide in the bushes. Once concealed, she waited until Sir William and his servant had taken care of the young man and the men who had accompanied him before she turned, at last, and returned home. Her mother scolded her for making her dress such a mess and for coming home late.
Elizabeth later learned from local gossip that the young man was called Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, and that he was from Derbyshire. By the public account, he and his servants were well enough to take another carriage and continue their journey to London four days later. She was relieved to find that Mr. Darcy had made no mention of a young girl’s involvement in the accident.
At first, Elizabeth thought back upon that incident with shame and incredulity. She later tried lifting heavy objects, on several occasions, but the Herculean strength of that disastrous day never returned to her. Slowly, with the passage of time, she forgot about the whole debacle.
However, the accident immediately sprang back to her mind on the day, ten years later, when she encountered Mr. Darcy again – this time at the local Assembly. Evidently he had come to visit his friend Mr. Charles Bingley, who had recently rented Netherfield Park, which was located only three miles from her home.
Mr. Darcy’s appearance at the Meryton Assembly drew marked attention. Sir William Lucas remembered the young man whom he had rescued some ten years earlier, and he did not hesitate to declare him as his friend. But Mr. Darcy was reserved and distant in his manner. He bore with the people to whom Sir William introduced him, answering direct questions about his long-ago injury and his well-being since that time. However he did not engage in extended conversation or dance much throughout the night.
It seemed apparent that Mr. Darcy had grown into a fastidious and arrogant man. He is no longer the caring master who worried more about his men’s safety than his own. And he finds me not handsome enough to dance with. Well then, I shall not waste my time upon him. Elizabeth decided as she walked purposely very near to him and then crossed to talk with her good friend Charlotte Lucas.
She told Charlotte about his haughty remark concerning her not being handsome enough to dance with, and the two young women had a good laugh together. Elizabeth noted that their playful manner seemed to attract his attention, but not in any positive sense. Indeed, his gaze conveyed censure and a frosty disapproval.
He must think us savages, without any refined manner. I wish he would overset a wineglass upon himself. That would certainly make him less handsome, at least for a moment!
Within moments, it seemed, Mr. Darcy had moved over to the refreshment table, where he did indeed pick up a glass of wine. At the same instant, Elizabeth’s youngest sister, Lydia, dashed past him in her haste to greet a local boy. She knocked against his elbow as she passed, with the result that he tipped the wine over his fine clothes. Due to the crowded room and her preoccupation, Lydia did not even notice the mischief she had dealt the man.
With a scowl at the young girl, Mr. Darcy took out a handkerchief and tried to absorb the stain. Mr. Bingley’s sister, Caroline, rushed to his side. She sympathised with the gentleman’s mishap. When she raised her gloved hand and attempted, with a napkin, to help him wipe away the wine, Mr. Darcy backed away. He bowed to her abruptly, turned on his heel, and left the hall for the back room.
Elizabeth watched the entire sequence of events with uneasy wonder. Did that happen because I wished for it? She wondered, but she could not bring herself to believe it. Why do strange things happen when I am around Mr. Darcy? Should I follow the man and attempt to apologise to him? If I do, surely he will think me a mad woman.
She decided, instead, to venture out onto the balcony for some much-needed air.
Gaining the relative privacy of the balcony, Elizabeth was startled to find that the weather had changed. Earlier in the evening, when she arrived at the Assembly with her family, it had been warm and calm. Now, the wind was picking up sharply, and the clouds were travelling fast.
She rubbed her hands over her arms and decided that she had best return to the ballroom. It was altogether too cold and windy on the balcony for comfort. Her hair and dress would be a sight if she lingered there for long.
As she turned to leave the balcony, a flash of lightning pierced the sky, and a rough gust of wind shouldered through the tall trees.
The sharp sound of an object dropping onto the balcony floor attracted her attention. She turned back, narrowing her eyes to keep them open against the strong wind.
On the stone floor by her feet was a tiny shiny item. She bent to retrieve it, then walked quickly back into the room.
Moving to a quiet corner, she examined the object. It was a quill…but a strange one. The length was about two-thirds that of a normal writing quill. The feather itself was in the most extraordinary hues of blue. The barrel was exceptionally thick. And at the tip was a piece of metal, apparently affixed to protect the sharp point.
She stroke along the feather, and a sudden answering shiver ran through her body. The unexpected sensation made her press the barrel harder than she intended, and several drops of golden liquid dripped from its tip. It looked much like ink but when she put her fingertip out to touch it, the liquid evaporated immediately.
A quill filled with golden ink that vanishes? Very strange indeed! Where did it come from? Who made it? She could not think of a single plausible answer. Stymied, she decided to tuck the quill away so that she could examine it more closely later.
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