Table of Contents
Edmund Bertram’s Diary
“Amanda Grange has hit upon a winning formula and retells the familiar story with great verve.”
— Historical Novels Review
“Once again, Amanda Grange has provided a highly entertaining retelling of a classic Jane Austen novel, as seen through the hero’s eyes . . . Pure fun, with the story told in a diary format that makes the reader feel like she’s taking a peek into Edmund’s innermost thoughts . . . I enjoyed every moment of it.”
— Romance Reader at Heart
“A sympathetic portrait of a young man struggling with the difficult choices that life throws at us all.”
Captain Wentworth’s Diary
“Amanda Grange has taken on the challenge of reworking a much-loved romance and succeeds brilliantly.”
The Historical Novels Review
“In this retelling of
we are given a real treat . . . Like the other books in Ms. Grange’s series, scrupulous attention is paid to the original, even while interpreting what is not explicitly shown, and some well-known scenes are fleshed out while others are condensed, nicely complementing the original.” —
“Amanda Grange’s retellings of Jane Austen’s novels from the point of view of the heroes are hugely popular and deservedly so . . .
Captain Wentworth’s Diary
, a retelling of Austen’s
, will entrance and enthrall old and new fans alike.” —
“One of those wonderful historicals that makes the reader feel as if they’re right in the front parlor with the characters . . . this book held me captive. It is well written and I very much hope to read more by this author. Amanda Grange is a writer who tells an engaging, thoroughly enjoyable story!” —
Romance Reader at Heart
Mr. Knightley’s Diary
“Sticks close to the plot of Austen’s
, mixing [Knightley’s] initially censorious view of Miss Woodhouse with his notes on managing the hereditary seat at Donwell Abbey and affectionate asides on his collection of young nieces and nephews.” —
The Washington Post
“A lighthearted and sparkling rendition of the classic love story.”
The Historical Novels Review
“Charming . . . knowing the outcome of the story doesn’t lessen the romantic tension and expectation for the reader. Grange hits the Regency language and tone on the head.” —
“Ms. Grange manages the tricky balancing act of satisfying the reader and remaining respectful of Jane Austen’s original at the same time, and like Miss Woodhouse herself, we are given the privilege of falling for Mr. Knightley all over again.” —
“Readers familiar with
should enjoy revisiting the county and its people and welcome the expansion of Mr. Knightley’s role. Others will find an entertaining introduction to a classic.”
Romance Reviews Today
“Well written with a realistic eye to the rustic lifestyle of the aristocracy, fans of Ms. Austen will appreciate this interesting perspective.”
Genre Go Round Reviews
“A very enjoyable read and an amusing tale.” —
“With its mysterious overtones and brooding hero, this is a nicely crafted, intriguing throwback to the classic gothic.” —
Lord Deverill’s Secret
“Fans will want to know just what
Lord Deverill’s Secret
The Best Reviews
Titles by Amanda Grange
MR. KNIGHTLEY’S DIARY
CAPTAIN WENTWORTH’S DIARY
EDMUND BERTRAM’S DIARY
COLONEL BRANDON’S DIARY
LORD DEVERILL’S SECRET
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Colonel Brandon’s diary / Amanda Grange. — Berkley trade pbk. ed.
eISBN : 978-1-101-06030-8
1. Guardian and ward — Fiction. 2. England — Social life and customs — 18th century —
Fiction. 3. Diary fiction. I. Austen, Jane, 1775-1817. Sense and sensibility. II. Title.
823’.92 — dc22
Tuesday 16 June
I thought the holidays would never arrive, but I am on my way home at last.
‘Remember, you are to visit us in August!’ said Leyton to me as he boarded the stage.
‘I will not forget,’ I promised him.
His coach pulled out of the yard and I went into the inn where I ate a second breakfast before it was time for my own coach to leave, and then I was soon on my way to Delaford. As the buildings of Oxford gave way to open countryside, I fell into desultory conversation with my fellow passengers, but it was too hot to talk for long and we were soon silent, watching the fields and rivers and hamlets pass by.
The light began to dwindle. Night fell, and the coach stopped at a respectable inn. I partook of the ordinary and now here I sit, in my chamber, looking forward to the summer.
Wednesday 17 June
I dozed through the first part of the journey, but as I neared home, I took more interest in my surroundings. My eyes travelled over the fields adjoining the estate and then I saw a welcome sight. It was Eliza, walking by the river with her straw hat dangling by its ribbons and her brocade skirt held up in her hand.
The coach slowed to turn a corner. I opened the door and, much to the consternation of my fellow passengers, I threw out my pack and then jumped after it, slithering down the grassy verge before reclaiming it at the bottom and calling to her. She turned round and, eyes alight, ran towards me. I caught her up and spun her round, thinking, I cannot remember a time when I did not love Eliza.
‘Did you miss me?’ I asked her, as at last I put her down, though I kept my arms around her, for I could not bear to let her go.
‘And what am I to say to that?’ she said with a smile. ‘Am I to tell a lie, or am I to tell the truth and make you conceited?’
I laughed, and she slipped her arm round my waist, then we began to follow the river towards the house.
‘How was Oxford?’ she asked me.
‘Much as ever. The lectures were dull and the fellows, save for a few, either dissolute or boring. But never mind, in a few more years I will have qualified for the law, and then we will buy a house somewhere, a snug little cottage — ’
‘Though you do not need a profession, because we will have my fortune to live on.’
‘I will not touch a penny of your fortune,’ I said seriously.
‘Why not? It will make us comfortable, and more than comfortable. When I come into it, it will make us rich.’
‘I want to support you.’
‘Then what are we to do with it? It seems a pity to waste it, when it is there for the taking.’
‘Save it for our children,’ I said.
‘Our children? Pray, do you not know it is indelicate to speak of such a thing to an unmarried woman?’ she asked me saucily.
‘Our children,’ I said, unrepentant. ‘Once we are married — ’
we are married. You have not asked me yet.’
I dropped my pack and fell to one knee, taking her hand.
‘Eliza, will you marry me?’
‘When you have nothing to offer me, indeed when you are far too young to think of marriage, being a mere stripling of eighteen?’ she teased.
‘A stripling, am I?’ I asked, rising to my feet.
‘A stripling!’ she said tauntingly, then she turned and ran. I gave chase and, easily catching her, I lifted her up and put her over my shoulder. She beat on my back with her fists, laughing all the while.
‘Put me down!’
‘Not until you say you are sorry!’
‘For what? For speaking the truth?’ she asked.
‘For calling me a stripling.’