Chances Come, Ney Mitch [snow like ashes series TXT] 📗

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Thank You For Reading

About the Author

Also by Ney Mitch

CHANCES COME

Copyright © 2021 by Ney Mitch

ISBN: 978-1-953735-60-7

Published by Satin Romance

An Imprint of Melange Books, LLC

White Bear Lake, MN 55110

www.satinromance.com

Smashwords Edition

Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

Published in the United States of America.

Cover Design by Caroline Andrus

Dedication & Author’s Note

Reader, you know how you pick up a book and you see a dedication to people you often do not know about. Yet, the chief person in question, the one who picks up the very book and begins to read it has contributed more than anyone. Since you have picked this up, how about, once more, we give credit where it is due.

You came, you’ve read, and you’ve conquered all. Thus, you deserve this dedication. And I shall once more attempt to be worthy of you!

Special thanks to my publisher, cover artist, and all who have helped contribute to me being able to write once more!

Ney Mitch

Chapter 1 Breathless

There was no room for thought.

There was no time to react properly.

In faith, all proper reactions could not be conjured at this inappropriate proposal.

Mr. Wickham was down on one knee, and he had just proposed to me. All had frozen around me. Time and space even appeared to bow down to this provocative moment. For indeed, all felt as if it had chosen to remain still. Between the dirt beneath our feet, the air around us, and the skies above…all felt as if it, collectively, decided not to move. All fell still, all looked on, and I felt a great imposition weigh upon me.

“You are speechless,” Mr. Wickham observed, his smile only dropping somewhat. “I have never had that effect upon you. Am I allowed to be flattered by it?”

The words he uttered were very handsome as was his countenance, as was the very proposal that he gave. All was done handsomely, for that was his way. And, despite one’s strong notions and mental awareness, emotions can often be more powerful. His proposal was flattering, and I could not look down on him without feeling all the gratitude that one feels when their heart is being appealed to, by someone who was within their heart to begin with. Despite what I knew of Wickham’s true habit and nature, only a heart of stone could not be moved by the way in which he lent his own affection to me.

Also, I had cared for him once. Very deeply so.

And our natures did understand each other. We had taken each other into the other’s confidence. Kind words were spoken, as were kind secrets.

Until I recalled that some of those secrets were very unkind. Unkind toward myself, for he had lied to me. Unkind toward Mr. Darcy, who he had wounded and deceived. And unkind toward Miss Georgiana Darcy, whose heart he had broken.

And yet, could I forgive all of that? Looking down upon him now, I felt my will softening and my intelligence weakening. After all, ever since papa passed away, I was gathering a wider idea of moderation and tolerance. Perhaps, I had been deceived in another quarter. Perhaps, Mr. Wickham was not nearly as villainous as he was said to be. Perhaps there had been some dreadful mistake, where two outside parties had conspired to defame them in each other’s eyes!

“Mr. Wickham,” I began, “my silence says many things. First, it is amazement that you asked me.”

“Could you not tell that I adored you?”

“I feel the compliments of your affection, for they are disinterested now.”

“I can see what you are feeling. My first choice of wife in Miss King was done out of a desire to be practical, but now my will has turned. I do love you, Miss Elizabeth, and I flatter myself that your feelings are mutual to my own. Therefore, I believe that, despite the imprudence of our match, we are the perfect match to be made, nevertheless.”

He was handsome, to be sure. I felt a deep kindred spirit in him, and suddenly, I felt the weight of gratitude upon me. He had made me an offer. And our spirits were alike in many ways.

Perhaps, I could forgive him.

Yes! Looking down at him now, perhaps I could forgive him, and grow to love him. After all, I felt my affection for him increase once he proposed. Perhaps, therefore, I was capable of feeling more than I had known that I felt for him.

Ought I to say yes?

Suddenly, as if hurled out of a dream that one has been roused from, I awoke from the whims of blind sensibility.

The accounts I had heard of Mr. Wickham’s villainy were true, his heart was something that could not be trusted, and why? Why would a man, who had weighed so many things out by the emptiness of his pocketbook now choose a woman who had little in her purse?

How could I consider it? And I had the perfect reason for a refusal that I had every right to make.

“Very pretty words,” I said, “from a very pretty man. And that beauty is something that I have often marveled at, but also distracted me from what lay underneath.”

I removed my hands from his and backed away from him, turning around and gathering my courage. Breathing out and in, I placed my hand