Whispered Kisses by Sarah Johnson

Whispered Kisses by Sarah Johnson

Author:Sarah Johnson [Johnson, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical, romance, Fiction, Novella
ISBN: 9781507602065
Google: yjpZzQEACAAJ
Amazon: B00TOZ01GA
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: 2015-02-15T00:00:00+00:00


Elizabeth was seated on the bench that ran circular around the base of the tree — the same tree that, just yesterday, she and Mr Darcy sat beneath while discussing their situations. She now sat with her journal in her hands, the early morning stillness evoking a torrent of emotions inside her. Normally these would be from her choice of novel, though this morning it was more real-life than she could have ever dreamed possible.

She was humming a simple tune when she was interrupted by the familiar, loving words of her father coming up behind her.

“This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath...”

She smiled and looked down at the book laid open in her lap, repeating the rest of Shakespeare’s line from Romeo and Juliet, “May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.”

He leaned down and kissed her cheek, the familiar roughness of his chin rubbing slightly against her delicate skin and making it tickle. “You received a delivery this morning, and I thought it best to intercept these and bring them to you myself.” He held out a small bundle of gorgeous, and familiar, blue flowers, tied with a yellow ribbon.

Elizabeth reached her hand out, slowly taking the gift from her father’s hand and raising the buds to her nose. When she closed her eyes and drew in the sweet smelling aroma, everything around her faded except the remembrance of his voice as he told of his desire to only see her smile. And smile she did, then she looked back to her father, “Thank you, Papa.”

Mr Bennet indicated the seat beside her, “May I?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” She gathered the various items she had laying there, closing her journal and placing the pencil back in her reticule. When he was seated, she drew the blanket draped over her own legs up over his as well.

“I believe I may have to speak with your beau again. With such particular attention, your mother is likely to see his potential as a suitor much earlier than he may desire.”

She giggled, drawing her arm through his and leaning onto his shoulder, “Oh, Papa—he is not my beau.”

“You cannot convince me of that—nor of your honestly believing it.” He sat quietly at her side, both looking out over the garden as the early morning sun played against the dew drops causing the flowers to glisten in the reflection.

“You know,” he finally said quietly through the stillness, “it was not that long ago when I too was trying to turn the eye a fine lady. I was nearly fourteen and remember well my father’s chastisement when he saw the state in which I returned home, after having fallen into the mud in my new breeches and powdered wig. They were to be worn for our portrait that was to be painted the following month.”

Elizabeth chuckled at his tale, but did not interrupt him.

“It was on our way to London to purchase another wig that he told me something I feel I must now pass along to you.



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