Or at least why they think I’m crazy this time.
This episode started at Christmas. I had carefully stocked my Amazon wishlist and was anticipating a deluge of full-priced books I’d been wanting to read all year. My husband dutifully bought the entire list but he has this thing about buying me exactly what I want. He thinks it’s too easy or something.
So – bless him – he tried to buy me a creative gift. Death Comes to Pemberley. Ever heard of it? I opened it, took one look at it and nearly dropped it like it was red hot.
There is no way in a million years I’m allowing my Austen-nurtured world of Darcy, Pemberley and Lizzy to be corrupted. Not a chance.
I have re-read and re-watched (Colin Firth as Darcy anyone?) Pride and Prejudice more times than I can count. After Lizzy and Darcy got married there was just this beautiful happy fuzz in my head and there’s no way I want somebody telling me what they think happened afterwards. Especially if it involves DEATH.
My husband did not understand. He was not amused. He rather stiffly took the book back. Then he mailed it to Wales; to my P.D. James-crazy father-in-law. Who e-mailed me this morning to say he very much enjoyed the story, my sister-in-law is reading it next and am I sure I don’t want them to mail it back to me (ha-ha).
So they think I’m nuts. But I’m not am I? You understand, right? With all due respect to P.D. James it’s just not right. I’m pretty sure she’s getting even richer off it though! Sigh…