My dearest wife,
Surely you did not honestly believe that I would allow this gown to be discarded? My foolish, beautiful Lizzy! If I knew of a way to have it preserved forever, I would. Madame du Loire has altered it to fit your current shape. If I may be so bold as to insist you don this garment, for me?
I pray you entertained no doubts that I would revere this day, beloved. How could I not exalt the day my heart began to beat again? For certain you know where I currently wait, breathlessly anticipating beholding your beautiful face as I did precisely 365 days ago, with the same yearning desire unabated. Only today I shall kiss you as I urgently ached to do then.
Of course, I can never express my love for you simply, so I am sending you on a quest. Solve the riddle and follow the trail for the prizes earned. I shall await you at the end, my unfailing love your ultimate reward. Hurry, my heart!
Always yours,
William
Mrs. Darcy, my pearl
~ kisses by moonlight and starlight
~ coming home never so sweet
~ cold of stone and air eradicated by ignited hearts and lips
~ the flame of a torch dim compared
Lizzy smiled, instantly solving the riddle. Dashing through the time-consuming routines, she nonetheless freshened carefully with a splash of jasmine and gloss to her lips. The dress, supposedly disposed of months ago as no longer appropriate nor wearable, fit perfectly. The bodice seams were let out and altered with a lace insert to provide space for an ample bosom, the appearance mildly different but lovely with the creamy tops of her breasts displayed. The skirt was already adequately gathered and full, no adjustment needed to accommodate the swell of their child. She pinned her hair up in a loose bun as she had worn it then, with wisps of hair framing her face.
After a last inspection and pinch to her cheeks, Lizzy hastened to the balcony. Lying upon the bench where passionate kisses commenced on Lizzy's first night at Pemberley as Mrs. Darcy was a single red rose and folded piece of parchment. Attached to the rose's stem with a slim white ribbon was a velvet pouch holding two lustrous pearls.
Illusionary clouds and sky
~ horses run fruitlessly
~ familial chimes to count through the ages
~ a head in miniature lies abed
~ swaying rhythms under the power of love
Giggling like a child herself, Lizzy ran to the nursery. The room was sunny and cheery. As always when she entered this room, Lizzy paused on the doorstep, marveling at the joy which permeated her soul. Resting her palms over her belly, she gazed about the chamber, eyes alighting on each precious item.
The decorating was complete and the Darcys were delighted with the outcome. The entire wall opposite the three tall windows facing east was painted with an elaborate pasture scene. All in pastels, the scene was illusionary, as Darcy stated in his riddle, yet so incredibly detailed that one expected the pale green grass to smell and the brook of periwinkle to babble and pink sheep to bleat. Horses of white and grey grazed and ran amongst the sheep and multihued flowers. The lacy blue and yellow curtains Lizzy had sewn hung from rods of polished oak, falling in soft waves to brush the hardwood floor. Several plush rugs dotted the floor, spaced at careful intervals to mute heavy footsteps that might disturb a sleeping infant. The newly installed, modern Franklin stove waited to be lit, freshly laid marble tiles reflecting the gleaming metal. An enormous dresser with padded top sat against the right wall, the door to Mrs. Hanford's chambers to one side and the door to the small closet on the other. To the left, as in Lizzy's dream, stood the cradle and cushioned rocking chair. Above the cradle hung the cuckoo clock gifted on her birthday, pendulum swinging and ticking faintly. Darcy had refinished the rocking chair, it now glinting from where it sat beside the white satin and lace-draped cradle. Inside, resting on the tiny pillow was another red rose, pearls nestled in a sack.
Constellations touchable
~ define the gods immortalized therein
~ paint your own designs, if you dare
~ passion flares beside tubes of metal
~ seeking eyes meet seeking hands
Blushing and laughing, Lizzy left the nursery, traveling down the long top-floor corridor to an empty chamber on the opposite side of the manor. Here, on the covered balcony, Darcy kept his telescope. It was a frequent game, especially during the long winter months, to pad silently in half-dressed states and gaze at the stars when visible on clear nights. Darcy instructed, Lizzy absorbing his knowledge, but ultimately losing the patterns in the jumble of heavenly bodies. She realized that she simply did not have the eye to discern the varied configurations, so would teasingly create her own. Initially Darcy had found this irritating, but over time he accepted it and enjoyed the humor of the situations. He reasoned that although his wife did not share his affinity for astronomy, she did adore stargazing in general, and as they possessed a plethora of common interests, one or two divergent ones made no difference. Besides, the lure of starlight and close proximity as he assisted her education inevitably led to far preferable amusements, often their lovemaking blissfully transpiring on the balcony's chaise. This is where Lizzy now found the third rose, pouch of two pearls, and next riddle.
Military might slumbers
~ relative humor questionable
~ amusement and faithfulness assured
~ matrimony avoided, any ideas?
~ effervescent strength
Under the watchful eye of a rigidly poised Watson, she sedately walked down the stairs to the main floor's residence wing to the last door on the west passageway: Richard's chambers. The first time Lizzy had ever entered these rooms was during her beginning weeks at Pemberley, on one of those days when Darcy was busy with Mr. Keith so she utilized the time to wander about, learning her way. The vast percentage of Pemberley's guest chambers had a long disused quality to them readily discernible. This room, unknown as Col. Fitzwilliam's, had instantly struck her differently. She discovered later that Richard was a frequent visitor, actually residing more often here than at his ancestral home, Rivallain, and the mark of his ebullient presence seemed to have seeped into the very walls.
The rose lay serenely at the foot of the bed. Two more perfect pearls added to the others in her pocket.
Hall of living stone
~ sightless eyes bore into your soul, loving you eternally
~ loneliness allayed forevermore
~ my beloved in perpetuity
Lizzy's heart leapt. She rushed from the room, slowing under the vigilant gaze of Watson, undoubtedly planted there to ensure her caution. She smiled at him brilliantly, dropping a curtsy. The footman bowed, his lips lifting slightly. At the corner she glanced behind, Watson's eyes upon her, and waved airily with a tinkling laugh before launching into a brisk sprint to the sculpture gallery.
Darcy's bust was the obvious answer to the puzzle, although the last phrase was unclear. Her beloved was in perpetuity, but Darcy was writing the riddle and referring to her. She had a guess as to the solution and rounding the corner gasped nonetheless when she found she was correct. While in London, Darcy had taken Mrs. Lathrop's suggestion to heart and Lizzy spent a few hours sitting for a sculptor. Darcy had made no further mention of her bust, Lizzy choosing to let the matter lie, knowing that he would prefer to surprise her in some manner.
Well, he had succeeded. Her likeness etched in cold white marble sat on a pedestal beside her husband's. Every detail flawless, her tender smile and glowing happiness magically captured. As when she gazed upon his bust, or any of the other amazing statues in the gallery, Lizzy was awed by the art form. She had blushed and mildly resisted having a bust made, but now that it was here beside her husband in this place where it would sit for generations untold, Lizzy could only feel deep pride. She paused a moment more, as she could never refrain from doing, and stroked his luminous cheek.
“I love you, William,” she whispered with a smile, retrieving the rose, pearls, and note lying on a tiny table near
the pedestals.
Prose and poetry
~ classic and contemporary
~ silent contemplation amongst the dust
~ romance amid the historical
~ favored master retreat
No hesitation as she pivoted toward the far door and short corridor leading to the library. His clues were obvious, but the room was gigantic, offering any number of places to place a rose. She rather thought his chair a logical place, but was unsure based on the allusion to romance, which could easily refer to the time they made love between the shelves of history texts. Of course, they had made love several times in the library, she recalled with a blush and heavenly sigh, so he was likely being general.
She was correct in her initial assumption. The rose, pearls, and paper lay on his massive leather chair. Lizzy's stomach released a loud growl, tremulous hands reminding her that she had eaten nothing yet this morning. As delightful as his little game was, she sincerely hoped this was the last as she was famished. Alas, not yet.
A precious presence seen
~ heart awakens as eyes lock
~ a dream?
~ a delusion?
~ or the beginning of life lived abundantly and completely?
“The latter, my heart, the latter,” she murmured, kissing the folded parchment. Fourteen pearls now weighted her pocket and her hands were encumbered with parchment and roses as Lizzy headed toward the terrace.
Memories flooded her as she hurriedly walked through the now familiar rooms toward the southern exit. Vivid recollections of her surprise encounter of Mr. Darcy a year ago with the subsequent invitation to his home.
First, the music room where visions of being introduced to his beloved sister Georgiana and hearing her play while a proud and relaxed Mr. Darcy smiled and laughed. Ah, his laughter! Such an amazing sound and sight that she had never witnessed from the stoic man of Hertfordshire and Kent. It had pierced her soul, Lizzy noting how beautiful he was, how carefree and joyous. “You should always smile, Mr. Darcy,” she had thought with emotions overwhelming, her spirit lurching at his evident happiness and then plummeting in the sadness of knowing he would never smile so for her.
Next into Darcy's study and out a side door to the wide corridor beyond. She passed through the vaulted archway to the broad stone terrace and was halfway down the stairs before she noted that Darcy was nowhere to be seen. She slowed, heart racing, and calmly crossed the stones toward the small table set for breakfast precisely on the spot where she had nervously attempted a bumbling conversation with Mr. Darcy all those months ago.
The round table was covered with a fine green linen tablecloth, an empty vase of Waterford crystal in the center, a china pot of tea, plate of sliced fruits, and two formal settings. Lizzy glanced around, fully expecting her husband to materialize from behind a potted bush or the lawn beyond, not that it is easy to hide a frame his size. She placed the roses into the vase, noting then the folded parchment propped against the glass.
Beloved,
A year ago today the road to my rebirth began. The interrupted journey of our destiny as one was resumed. Paths trod are frequently rend with hazards and washed away areas, but the wise pilgrim presses on and picks up the trail inerrantly. By the grace of God such are we, my wife. Fate shone and brought you literally to my doorstep. Never will I doubt the hand of the Almighty on our life and will forever be thankful for the mercy shown me. The quest, both the one that brought you to me then and that brought you to this note, are over.
I love you,
William
She released a breathy laugh, whirling about seconds later at the unmistakable sound of boot heels striking stone. Darcy was rapidly descending the stairs, dressed in the exact outfit worn a year ago from boots to cravat, only rather than an expression of stunned befuddlement and nervousness, his countenance was radiant with broad smile and glittering eyes.
Lizzy could only stare, an odd sense of déjà vu overlaid by vaulting ecstasy and love. How he stole her very breath away! His dimples flashed, teeth sparkled, eyes reflected the azure blue of the sky, and entire body exuded strength and energy. Purposefully he strode toward her, gaze never faltering, not pausing or slowing until a mere inch from her body. Without preamble he encircled her waist with one arm, pulling her into his chest while clasping her neck gently with his hand, leaning for a consuming kiss.
Lizzy moaned, hunger forgotten in the haze of instant passion as her hands slipped over his shoulders and twined into his hair. Darcy growled in his throat, kissing with ever increasing fervor, slow to be restored to anything remotely resembling rationality. Gradually the feverish kiss abated, Darcy brushing lightly over her lips, withdrawing to rest his forehead on hers with eyes closed in rapture and sighing heavily.
“Oh God, Elizabeth, I have been waiting for hours it seems with a rising need to kiss you! Whose foolish idea was it to send you scurrying about the house rather than running into my arms?”
Lizzy laughed shakily. “I shall not answer that question, love.” She rose on tiptoes, nestling her cheek against his. “Mmmm, William, you smell delicious. Promise me something?”
“Anything, dearest.”
“Always hold me securely when you plan to kiss me so marvelously so that I do not collapse into a heap at your feet?”
He laughed, kissing briefly before stepping back a pace. He caressed over her cheek, speaking softly, “You must be famished, my darling. I thought it might be nice to breakfast in style for a change. Sit and have some tea and fruit. I shall inform the kitchen we are ready to dine.” He pushed her chair in, kissing the top of her head before disappearing into the house.
Lizzy did pour a much needed cup of tea and nibbled on a prune while she waited. It was not for long, Darcy briskly returning followed by Mr. Taylor and three maids, all laden with trays placed onto a small linen-draped sidebar. Lizzy was starving but found it hard to focus on food with her husband staring at her with fiery intensity from his seat mere inches away.
In due time the first course was set and the servants departed, the butler to loiter inside the doorway awaiting summons from his Master. For Darcy the interval of attendance was an agony of forced propriety when he wanted nothing as much as to touch his wife, a mission promptly executed the second they were alone. He leaned forward, lips gliding over her neck while he clasped one hand tightly and gently massaged over the bulge of their child with the other.
“Thank you for wearing the gown.” His voice was husky and muffled against her skin, Lizzy shivering from the combined sensations. “I adore all your old gowns as they each spark such delightful memories, but this is my favorite.” He lifted to kiss her lips. “Sweet. Delectable. I love you so, Elizabeth.” He gazed into her eyes with pure adoration, Lizzy's eyes misty from the emotions elicited. “Do you know how often I dreamt of you in this gown?”
She smiled, running her fingertips over his face. “Apparently the answer is many times. How often, dear love, were you removing said gown in your dreams?”
He chuckled, unperturbed by the query. “Hundreds, although often I was at this spot in broad daylight articulating brilliantly all the proper phrases which should have occurred to me a year ago, and then I would kiss you precisely as I did a moment ago. So, dreams do come true.” He kissed her again, deeply, clearly insatiable with the need to taste her entire mouth. A rumble from the vicinity vaguely under his hand erupted, Lizzy blushing but Darcy laughing. “I am keeping you from your nourishment, forgive me.” He withdrew with a final pat to her womb. “Forgive me, my son, but your mother is irresistible.” The baby answered with a well-aimed kick to his father's palm, Darcy's eyebrow arching in surprise. “My! Feisty, like his mother.”
Laughing, they attended to their plates, Darcy likely hungrier than Lizzy, having been up for hours arranging his surprise with barely a few sips of coffee taken. Vastly differing from the afternoon being commemorated, they conversed easily about all manner of subjects, their clothing being the only similarity.
“Impressed, Mrs. Darcy, by the ingenious schemes from your admittedly dull-witted spouse?” he asked with a grin.
“You declared it, not I,” she said with a smirk. “Yes, I am impressed, and delighted. I had a wonderful time, although I shall confess to being thankful the quest complete as your son was demanding food and I was aching to see your face.” She reached across to caress his cheek, Darcy snatching her hand for a tender kiss to the wrist. “Thank you for the pearls. They are beautiful. Do you have a specific thought as to what I should do with them?”
He shrugged. “I had imagined a bracelet to accent your necklace. However, you may choose anything you wish. They were part of a shipment on one of my ships, gemstones and pearls from the Orient. My ears perked up, so to speak, when I read the cargo manifest. I acquired a pouch of diamonds and emeralds as well, if you want them to accompany the pearls. They would combine to create a beautiful broach or hair clip. They were a fortuitous parcel as I honestly did not have a planned gift for this day.”
My Dearest Mr. Darcy Page 8