A Debt Of Gratitude – Mary Alice Alexander

“I shall endeavour to remember that, Miss Bennet.” The choice was made. A Companion Mr. Darcy sat in the wingback chair, his teacup balanced on his knee, resembling a man about to address an unpredictable tribunal. The tea tray had been cleared of its best biscuits—mostly by Lydia—and the drawing room had settled into a deceptive mid-afternoon calm. Elizabeth occupied herself with her needlework, though she had not taken a single stitch in several minutes.

She knew what was coming. The engagement of Mrs. Annesley was settled, but the news had yet to reach the mistress of Longbourn. “Mrs. Bennet,” Darcy began, his voice wary. “I must inform you of an addition to our party. In light of Georgiana’s continued delicacy, I have engaged a companion to attend her during her stay here. Mrs. Annesley.” Mrs. Bennet, who had been contemplating the trim on a new bonnet, stopped mid-sentence.

Her brows knit together. “A companion?” she repeated, her tone sharpening. “Whatever for, Mr. Darcy? Does your sister not have us? I am sure I have nursed three of my own girls through the scarlatina, and Jane through a bilious fever, and I know every thing there is to know about possets and draughts.” “It is not a question of competence, Madam,” Darcy said quickly—too quickly.

He shifted upon his chair. “It is merely that Georgiana requires a great deal of quiet attention. I would not wish to impose such a tedious burden upon your household.” “Burden!” Mrs. Bennet’s voice rose. “It is never a burden to care for the sister of a man of such consequence! Do you think us incapable, Mr. Darcy?

Do you think we cannot provide a quiet room and a bowl of gruel?” Darcy appeared trapped. He glanced toward Elizabeth—a silent plea for rescue. He was a man who could face down creditors or magistrates, but country matrons with wounded pride were evidently beyond his capabilities. “It is not that, Mrs. Bennet,” Darcy tried again. “It is simply that her nerves require⁠—” “Her nerves are excellent!” Mrs. Bennet declared, fanning herself with vigour. “If any one understands nerves, it is I. No, Mr. Darcy, I am wounded. I am truly wounded.

To bring a stranger into the house implies you do not trust our care. People will talk. They will say the Bennets were not good enough to tend their own guest.” Darcy opened his mouth, then closed it. He appeared ready to agree to anything if it would stem the torrent. Elizabeth set down her needlework. “Mamma, I believe you misunderstand Mr. Darcy’s intention⁠—” A dry cough from the corner stopped her. Mr. Bennet lowered his newspaper. He took a slow sip of his wine, regarding his wife over his spectacles with the calm interest of a natural philosopher observing a particularly vocal phenomenon.

“My dear,” Mr. Bennet said smoothly. “You have entirely mistaken Mr. Darcy’s meaning.” Mrs. Bennet turned on her husband.

“I am not indebted for my present happiness to your eager desire of expressing your gratitude.” Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 60 1kitap1.com/en For Stella, resilient and brave. And for my sweet, dearly missed Alex. 1kitap1.com/en Copyright ©2026 by Delaford Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. No AI training. Without in any way limiting the author’s [and publisher’s] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited.

The author reserves all rights to licence uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models. Ebooks are for the personal use of the purchaser. You may not share or distribute this ebook in any way, to any other person. TYPOS: As an author, I appreciate readers pointing out where there are typos in my work. Even after editing, reading, rereading, re rereading, ARC readers and copyediting, the odd stubborn typos will remain.

I welcome an email letting me know where corrections may be required and appreciate your patience. [email protected] No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. ISBN 978-1-966762-05-8 ebook Formatted with Vellum 1kitap1.com/en T Chapter One The Empress he barn door banged open, admitting a swirl of snow and a very disgruntled Lydia, her hem heavy with wet mud.

“Come down at once, Josephine!” she shouted at the rafters, stamping her boots on the stone floor. “Do not ignore me! You are behaving like a common stray, not an Empress!” A faint, defiant meow drifted down from the hayloft. “You will freeze out here, Josephine,” Lydia muttered, grabbing the ladder. “When my fingers turn black from frostbite, I shall make you into a fashionable muff.” She scrambled up the wooden rungs, her breath hitching in the biting cold of the upper loft.

Josephine was a shadow in the gloom, perched smugly atop a mound of loose hay near the back wall.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

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