Writer's Cut: A Deleted Scene From His Bluestocking Bride

Authors write a LOT and, sometimes, we create entire books, characters, and scenes that never make it to the publishing stage. 

In His Bluestocking Bride, I had to rid the book of an entire character. I wrote that character out of existence. Then I went back through and found a scene that was just "extra." It didn't add much to the plot and established something about my hero, Marcus, too early. So, it was cut.

But I still have the scene, and I'm going to share it with you now!

This scene takes place between Chapter 9 and Chapter 10 of the finished novel. As it was taken out early in the process, it was never fully edited. Please excuse any little mistakes. 

Enjoy!

​The wedding was but eight days away and Marcus arrived to spend time with his mother at Collin’s estate. He hardly expected to learn from the butler that Ellen yet remained, with her brother, as a guest in the home.

This close to their wedding, he thought she might have been home making arrangements and plans. After he freshened up, he went in search of her. He ran into Ellen’s maid in the hall, a basket full of multicolored ribbons in her arms.

“Ah. Sarah, isn’t it? You are attending to Miss Bringhurst still?”

She bobbed a curtsy.

“Yes, Mr. Calvert.”

“Is she about?”

The maid sighed, a reaction not common in hired help. “That she is, sir. Down in the morning room with Lady Falkham, Lady Calvert, Mrs. Wright, Miss Wright and Miss Verity.”

His eyebrows shot up at that. “Perhaps I ought to stay clear of that room.” He was hoping to tease a smile from the maid, but she only grimaced.

“That’s what I told Miss Bringhurst, but she went in anyway.”

A smile twitched at his lips. Servants were never this frank with him at his brother’s home. “Why would she brave such a den of danger?” he asked, fully expecting to be amused by the answer.

The maid adjusted the basket to her hip and fixed him with a bleak look. “As they are planning her wedding, she thought she ought to go and at least listen so as she’d know what to expect.”

He blinked at her, not sure he understood. “They are planning her wedding?”

“Yes, sir. It’s all they’ve been doing for days. They plan the wedding, then they discuss what she ought to do after the wedding and who should be visited. Then they talk about how soon she ought to get to London and which seamstresses she ought to see, or haberdashers, or cobblers, or such.” The maid shrugged. “They’ve got the whole of her life planned out for the next ten years, at least they will have. I think, if you’ll pardon my saying it, Miss Bringhurst ought to go home and rest. But no one will hear of it. I don’t suppose I know much about such things anyway.”

The more she spoke, the more concerned Marcus became. Ellen might not be a titled lady, but she certainly was not at the beck and call of his mother, or anyone else in the home. Nor should she be relegated to listen as others made plans for her. His mother cared greatly for pomp and circumstance.

“Thank you, Sarah.” He dismissed her and then made his way directly to the morning room.

He paused just outside the door, listening, and heard a gaggle of voices speaking all at once. Knowing there was no help for it, he took in a deep breath and pushed the door open.

No one noticed him at first. A sketch stood on an easel, which easel was draped with ribbons and sashes of cloth, and several different dried flowers were scattered about a table in the middle of the room. His mother sat in a chair the way the Queen might sit on a throne, gesturing at the easel and speaking loudly about where certain wreaths must hang. Mrs. Wright stood at the easel with a pencil, writing things in at various places on what must be a diagram of the church near Oak Lodge. Marianne sat between her cousins, showing Miss Verity something in a pamphlet and speaking loudly about women’s dressing gowns. Miss Wright sat with a wrinkled nose going through cards.

“You will want to look through these, Lady Calvert,” she said into the noise. “I haven’t the first idea which would do best for stationary.”

He couldn’t find Ellen at first, until his eyes searched the edges of the room, and he found her standing at one of the windows looking out at the gardens. Marcus stared at her for a long moment, letting the other sounds of the room fade from his consciousness, puzzling out the look on her face. Her brows were drawn together in a frown and she stood stiffly. Her hands were at her sides, curled into fists. But her eyes remained gentle, roving over the sleeping winter gardens, looking as though she would rather be out in the cold than in this room another moment.

That decided it for him. Ellen, he began to understand, had a mind of her own but was not at all used to wielding it. As any good comrade in arms must do, he came to her defense.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” he said loudly enough to pull everyone’s attention to the doorway. He kept his eyes on Ellen, watching her turn to him. Her eyes widened, then brightened as she smiled at him. He did not look when his mother addressed him, or Marianne rose to greet him. “Yes, Mother. My journey was safe. Thank you, Lady Falkham.”

He stepped into the room and walked straight past everyone else to stand by Ellen’s side. He reached for her hand, which she gave him with a curious glance, and bowed over it.

“Miss Bringhurst. Ellen. What a pleasure to find you still here. I felt certain you would be home, planning for our wedding and removal to Orchard Hill.”

The room remained still, each person in it watching their reunion with interest. Ellen raised her eyebrows at him and briefly at the people behind him before making her answer.

“I am afraid matters got a little out of hand. A great deal of planning has been going on.”

“Ah. Excellent. What have you decided about the chapel?”

“Oh, it’s lovely, Marcus. Ellen provided us with a sketch of the room so we will know how best to decorate,” his mother said.

“I see. But what has Ellen decided?”

Marianne answered next. “We are not certain whether to do sashes in red for the season or in pastels, as is fitting for a bride.”

Marcus stood at his full height and guided Ellen to place her arm through his so that they faced the other women shoulder-to-shoulder. He looked down at Ellen, who remained stoic, but he could see a light dancing in her eyes. She knew exactly what he was doing and a brief nod from her was all the permission he needed to proceed.

It is very generous for all of you to assist Ellen with her wedding preparations. However, Ellen likely has ideas for how she would like to proceed and it does not seem anyone actually allowed her to do more than provide a sketch.”

“Mr. Calvert, she could not possibly know the best way to go about planning a wedding,” Miss Wright began to say, putting her hands on her hips. “We are helping and having an amusing time of it.”

“Really?” Marcus said, looking about at the women. “I am certain that Ellen has had a great deal of experience with weddings. I believe she assisted with each of her sisters’ preparations, and I am certain Lady Falkham called upon her for help. I dare say she has had more experience than any of you fine ladies.”

Marianne blushed. “Oh, dear. I think you must be right.” She stood and dropped her pamphlet into Miss Verity’s lap.

Before she could say anything further, his mother spoke with firmness. “Marcus, do not be ridiculous. There is more to planning a marriage than planning a wedding. We have been discussing and advising Miss Bringhurst on many things. Invitations to accept when she comes to town, how to respond to any gifts or cards she receives, things such as that need to be planned in advance.”

“I am not entirely certain of that, Mother.” He looked down at his bride-to-be. “Ellen, I would like to offer my suggestion, and I think you ought to heed it, as I will be your husband soon.”

A blush stole up into her cheeks and he wondered if it was due to his attention or her dislike of being the center of all their focus.

I suggest you and your brother return home and you allow your sisters to help you decorate the chapel, should any decoration be needed. I also suggest you not worry about invitations until after our honeymoon trip, brief though it may be. I intend to take you to Orchard Hill before we go to London. You will have plenty of time to make plans, and I offer my humble services as your adviser on any matters you may wish to discuss.” Her eyes brightened and a slow smile grew as he spoke. “How does that sound?”

“I think I will heed your suggestions, Marcus,” she answered, the hand on his arm giving it a soft squeeze. “We will leave in the morning. If you will excuse me, I must direct Sarah to pack my things.” She looked about the room, curtsied, and left.

“I rather hoped she would stand up to you,” his mother said the moment the door shut.

“And I hoped she would not find herself in a position where she would be overrun by your good intentions, Mother.” His tone remained calm, but he looked at the two women in the room he knew best and shook his head. “How could she possibly tell any of you she did not like your plans? Or that she wished to leave? She is a guest here and does not wish to offend friend or family. If you will excuse me, I have no further wish to discuss my business in front of the charming Wrights.” He bowed, cast one last disapproving glance at his mother, and left the room.

He quickly caught up to Ellen, coming to the foot of the stair as she reached the top.

“Ellen,” he called up to her. She paused and turned, waiting for him to join her on the landing.

“I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your rescue,” she said, her shoulders slumped. “I have tried to go home but your mother and Marianne, and even Collin, kept insisting I stay to finalize plans. I tried to tell them you might need to be consulted, but no one would listen to a word I said.” She raised a hand to rub at her temple.

“I thought as much.” He folded his arms across his chest, regarding her carefully. “But now you can go. You can take my carriage, too. No need to wait on anyone or anything else.”

“They were only trying to help,” she told him, shaking her head.

“Of course. Things just got out of hand. They were busy and amused by the idea of throwing together a wedding. But did they listen to you at all?”
E
llen half-smiled, a playful look on her face. “In regards to one thing. They all agree I should not wear a green gown to be married.”

He blinked at her. “A green—? That is preposterous. I expect you know your own mind about what you wish to wear. Pack your belongings. Leave first thing in the morning. Do as you wish for the wedding—only, is there anything I might assist you with?”

She smiled and shook her head. “No. It will be a small, simple affair. Then you can whisk me away to Orchard Hill and fulfill your promise to advise me in planning out the rest of our lives.”

He chuckled and she slipped away. It was oddly satisfying to have taken her out of a ridiculous situation. He decided to seek out Collin and avoid any more encounters with overzealous, wedding-planning women.