It was this love that had made the past several years so emotionally tortuous. Master Fitzwilliam had from his youth been far too serious and intense, too reserved, and too apt to seek solitude. The burdens that had been thrust upon him at the tender age of two-and-twenty, along with his acute sorrow, had nearly overwhelmed him. If possible, he had retreated further into himself, laughed and smiled less, and erected a rigid shell about his heart. He only had a handful of true friends, including his sister whom he loved to distraction, yet even they often found his tendency toward surliness and bitterness difficult to comprehend or tolerate. Mrs. Reynolds had fretted and worried, but there was nothing she could do but pray.
As Mr. Darcy settled into his role as Master of Pemberley, she had noted a loosening of his stern demeanor. Colonel Fitzwilliam was a loyal companion who would tease the Master and encourage him to socialize more. Also, his friendship with Mr. Charles Bingley was providential. Mr. Bingley was the polar opposite of Mr. Darcy and, by all outward appearances, the two should have loathed each other. Luckily their relationship had created its own path, and the two young men had formed an abiding bond of mutual affection. Mr. Bingley’s sunny, effervescent nature was a soothing balm to the frequently brooding Mr. Darcy. Mrs. Reynolds began to believe that her dear Mr. Darcy would break out of his self-imposed prison. Her sincerest hope was that he would find a young lady to mend and fill his aching heart.
Then abruptly, that past April, Mr. Darcy had plunged into a dark pit of despondency and depression unlike anything Mrs. Reynolds had previously witnessed. It was not unlike the immense grief to which the former Mr. Darcy had succumbed when his wife had expired. There was no basis for young Mr. Darcy’s anguish, as far as she could ascertain. Eventually he did partially return to the world of the living, but a lingering pain in his blue eyes refused to lift.
Until one glorious day in early September.
Mrs. Reynolds remembered the day vividly, although it had initially dawned virtually identical to all other days. Mr. Darcy was in Town, not expected to return until the next day. Mrs. Reynolds had welcomed visitors to the manor, not a frequent occurrence, but one that happened often enough not to register as significant this time. The visitors, an older couple and their young niece, were polite and gracious.
The niece seemed vaguely uncomfortable and nervous, but Mrs. Reynolds did not dwell on it overly. She executed her duty as tour guide with pleasure, being quite proud of the house and its furnishings. She recalled being a bit startled to discover that the young lady was acquainted with Mr. Darcy as she did not immediately strike Mrs. Reynolds as being in the same class with her master. However, as his personal affairs were for the most part outside her purview, she did not thoroughly ponder the situation.
Toward the end of the tour, the niece became separated from the group. It could not have been more than fifteen minutes before she came bounding around the side of the house to where her aunt and uncle were standing by their carriage, expressing their thanks to Mrs. Reynolds. The lady, Lizzy her aunt called her, was extremely agitated. She insisted on walking back to Lambton, wringing her hands and shifting her feet the entire time she asked to do this. She kept glancing toward the house as if she feared something or someone was going to barge out of the front doors and attack her! It was most unusual. Mrs. Reynolds stood speechless, wishing she knew the root of the young woman’s distress, fearing greatly that something terrible had happened and wondering if she should inquire. In the end, Miss Lizzy left, nigh on running down the road toward the bridge.
Mrs. Reynolds stood in the drive for a few minutes ruminating on the odd behavior of Miss Lizzy. She determined that she would ask the other servants if they had seen the young lady after she had been left behind in the gallery. She needed to guarantee that nothing untoward had occurred. She entered the foyer and ascended the stairs to the main floor, but before she could advance any farther than five feet, she was paralyzed with shock when Mr. Darcy, whom she was unaware was even home, fairly flew out of the parlor door. He was frantic, but his face was radiant and he wore the broadest grin. He skidded to a stop mere seconds before bowling her over.
“Mrs. Reynolds,” he shouted breathlessly, “send word to the stables to resaddle Parsifal, immediately!” Without another word he dashed around the corner, heading toward the stairs leading to his chambers.
She stood there with her mouth hanging open, only then aware that Miss Georgiana was standing in the doorway, also displaying a ridiculously bright smile. “Hurry, Mrs. Reynolds! Do as he asks and then come back and I shall tell you what is happening. Oh, it is the most wonderful thing!”
The next month had been fraught with emotions and angst. Miss Georgiana had told her the whole sorry tale. That Mr. Darcy was head over heels in love with Miss Elizabeth Bennet was an indisputable fact. What was not so clear was whether Miss Bennet was in love with him. Mrs. Reynolds adored her master and was initially vexed, assuming that any lady who had refused him once was unworthy of him. However, as the truth was revealed, she did understand and eventually recognized that Miss Bennet was precisely what Mr. Darcy so urgently required to heal his wounded heart.
Two months ago she and Miss Georgiana had at long last received the missives they had been longing for. Mr. Darcy’s ecstasy at Miss Elizabeth accepting his hand was uncontainable. Mrs. Reynolds had received hundreds of pieces of correspondence from her master over the years, but none remotely similar to the letters he now wrote. Why, she could remit them to a publisher for a book of romantic musings and poetry! Her heart was overflowing with joy.
Mr. Darcy had been quite specific in his orders regarding the new Mistress. His mother’s chambers had been aired out and thoroughly scrubbed. Old furnishings had been removed. His plan was to allow Mrs. Darcy to redecorate the rooms at her leisure, so for now they needed only to be clean and comfortable. He had purchased several items that had been sent ahead, including a new bathing tub and washbasin, a new mattress, a stationery set for her desk, and an enormous painting of a landscape. All he had hinted was that the scene was special in some way and he wished it to be a surprise for his new bride. The painting was to be hung, he instructed, in her dressing room behind the vanity.
He had entrusted Mrs. Reynolds to acquire any feminine objects that were essential and to stock the bathing room with the finest linens. Numerous odd packages had arrived from Mr. Darcy, trinkets, he told her, that he picked up here and there: various hair accoutrements, perfumes, ribbons, small pieces of jewelry, a musical snuffbox, robes with matching slippers, a set of silk handkerchiefs, several books, and other odds and ends. These she had carefully distributed as he instructed. The last touch was numerous vases of flowers randomly placed about the rooms, the largest a bouquet of white roses and lavender to be placed on the vanity.
He also had detailed directives regarding his own bedchamber and private sitting room. They, too, were to be thoroughly cleaned. New bed linens and coverings of a lighter design than the dark colors he usually preferred were sent. Some of the more masculine furnishings were to be removed and exchanged with new pieces he purchased in Town or with specific objects from elsewhere in the manor. The small table was replaced with a larger one with two overstuffed chairs. The old rug, a remnant from when the rooms were his father’s, was discarded and replaced with a gorgeous Persian carpet of pale blues and golds. The overall effect was subtle; the rooms were already beautifully decorated, but the changes added an airiness that was altogether inviting.
Mrs. Reynolds was not an innocent. She comprehended that her master was of the conviction that his wife would be sharing his quarters much of the time. The former Mrs. Darcy had done so, except for when she was confined or ill, so Mrs. Reynolds was not shocked by this. In fact, it amplified her happiness to know that her master had fallen in love with such a woman.
Mr. Darcy had written to his aunt, Lady Matlock, soliciting her assistance in hiring a lady’s maid for Elizabeth. She had gladly done so, sending three women to Mrs. Reynolds
to be interviewed. Mrs. Reynolds had settled on a Frenchwoman of thirty named Marguerite, who was an experienced lady’s maid. Her recommendations were impeccable, and she had agreed to a probationary period pending Mrs. Darcy’s final approval.
The staff had been quite busy over the past weeks ensuring all was in perfect readiness. Mr. Darcy’s last letter had arrived the day of his wedding. He directed Mrs. Reynolds to have a light supper prepared, to ignite the welcome torches on the grounds, to have their chambers warm and well lit, and to assemble the senior household staff for a quick greeting of the new Mistress. The flurry of activity that had descended on the normally placid household was concluded. Mrs. Reynolds strolled, for the umpteenth time, through the house guaranteeing that all was flawless. A sentry was stationed by the main road to alert Mrs. Reynolds the moment the Darcy carriage was spotted.
Nothing for it now but to wait.…
The trip to Pemberley was uneventful. Lizzy was anxious and excited at the same time. I am going home! She kept repeating this to herself so it would truly penetrate her heart and soul.
She valiantly feigned composure and serenity, but the amused curl of Darcy’s mouth told her that he was on to her little charade. For probably the hundredth time, she asked him, “How much further to Pemberley?”
“Maybe two more hours, if the weather holds,” he replied, leaning closer to her so he could see around her out the window. “Those clouds do look ready to burst any moment. Luckily the road through here is an excellent one, so even if it does rain, we should not be waylaid.”
She continued to stare out the carriage window. “It is so beautiful here. Is this Derbyshire?”
“The southernmost regions, yes. I had the driver bypass Derby to avoid the congestion. We are some twenty miles south of Lambton. However, we will divert and enter from the south, rather than the west as you did before. I will let you know when we enter our estate lands. The southerly route passes through approximately five miles of our farms.”
Lizzy lifted her brows in surprise. “I had no idea it was so vast!” His use of the word “our” was not lost on her, but she did not comment.
Darcy smiled at her and stroked her cheek. “Yes, it is quite large. It requires several hours to circle the perimeter. Of course, a generous percentage of the land is wild and inaccessible but for horseback. A significant amount is woods, lakes, and rivers, as well as pastures. Game runs free and birds make their homes with little to disturb them except for the occasional hunt. The farmlands are closer to the manor, thus the tenants are within an easy distance.” He leaned back in the seat and lovingly caressed her back.
Elizabeth continued to stare out the window. She did not speak and Darcy could sense her tension, but he kept silent, waiting patiently until she was prepared to open her mind to him. In time she did, but her voice was so low he had to strain to hear her. “What if they do not like me?”
“It does not matter if they do not like you. You are my wife and the Mistress of Pemberley. They are your servants and tenants.” She jerked her head toward him at his blunt words, a ready retort on her lips. He smiled and stopped the flip rejoinder he knew she was about to make by pressing his fingers to her lips. That is what I want to see from you, my brave, feisty Lizzy, he thought. “However, I do not believe, even for one second, that they will not adore you. Nor do I have the slightest qualm or apprehension that you will be the most excellent Mistress that Pemberley has seen in decades, no offence intended toward my dear mother or grandmother.”
She peered intently into his eyes, as if searching for any untruth or doubt in his assertions, but there was none. The deep love he felt for her was unmistakably visible, as it always was. Yet, as she examined his eyes, she was again struck forcibly by the unparalleled esteem he held for her. His love for her, although all consuming, unwavering, and unconditional, was not blind or foolish. He knew her faults, her flaws, her weaknesses. He also knew her quality, her personality, her strengths, and her character. His trust in her was in spite of and due to these incontrovertible facts, not out of besotted passion or bedazzlement.
She sighed and relaxed against his chest, burying her face into his shoulder. “You must think me a silly child!”
He smiled into her hair. “You are not silly and, as proven several times over the past two days, you are unquestionably not a child!” They both laughed. “I do think you are worrying too much about all this, Elizabeth. No demands will be placed on you until you wish to assume them. Good heavens, it took me a year to feel secure as Master of Pemberley, and I grew up there! You will have all the time you need. Mrs. Reynolds already likes you and she will assist you in any way you require.”
“I do not apprehend how she could have such a fair opinion of me since I acted so outlandishly peculiar. Getting separated, spying on Georgiana, stammering like an imbecile, rushing off across the fields. I would imagine she is horrified that you would deign to be in the same room with me, let alone marry me!” She smiled up at him and he could not resist kissing her.
“Well, therein lies the answer to your question, my heart. Mrs. Reynolds has known me since I was four. Few people understand me as well as she does. For all that she is technically a servant, she has in many ways been a second mother to me. She has observed me through all my years of pain and grief. She knows my character and judgment. She trusts my choices and wishes nothing more than to see me happy. So, if you bring me that happiness, and you emphatically do, and if I trust you, then she does as well. It is that simple.” He kissed her again, deeply.
Huskily he continued, “You must learn to have the same faith in my assertions regarding your qualifications as she does.” He paused to kiss her some more. “Of course,” he teased, “it is all a moot point as I intend to keep you locked in my bedchamber for several weeks, at least so I may have unfettered and undisturbed access to you!”
Lizzy grinned. “If you mean to frighten me by that threat, Mr. Darcy, you have failed miserably. Frankly, I can think of no place on earth I would rather be than in your bedchamber, provided you are there as well, naturally.” She accompanied her words with sensitively placed caresses and kisses, causing Darcy to groan and close his eyes in mute surrender.
It was some time before he sought to find his voice or even that he was able to. Finally, breathlessly, he begged, “Desist, woman! You win! I shall exact my revenge for this torture, however, so be warned.” He moved away from her to compose himself, refusing to acknowledge the expression of amusement and triumph on her face.
Time passed in comfortable companionship. Lizzy was riveted to the passing scenery, all of it lushly green moorland and rolling hills. The River Derwent was a constant companion as the main road wove alongside it, crossing frequently over stone bridges. They traveled through Matlock, but Rivallain, the estate of Lord and Lady Matlock, was not visible. Darcy pointed out the places of interest as they glided by, but they did not halt. Both were too anxious to be home.
As they veered onto a secondary avenue and crossed over a stone bridge spanning the river, Darcy proclaimed, “We are well into Pemberley lands, Elizabeth. Look.”
The view was magnificent. The sun was low in the western sky, blanketing the spectacular landscape with soft shadows. To the west and east flowed seemingly endless fields of orchards and perfectly manicured farmland. Small, sturdy stone cottages were scattered randomly. Large numbers of sheep were noted as well as the horses that Pemberley was famous for. They saw a sizeable lake that was fed by numerous small streams from the hills and bordered on its eastern shore by a forest of cedar and pine that appeared to stretch to the horizon.
On her tour with the Gardiners, Lizzy had approached Derbyshire and Pemberley from the northwest, having taken a circuitous route. These were areas she had not seen with any clarity, her return to Hertfordshire being filled with too much dismay to inspect the passing landscape.
She scooted closer to him, resting a hand on his thigh, and he suspiciously watched her. “Do not fear, sir,” she gi
ggled. “I promise to behave…for now. How soon to the house?”
“Only a couple of miles now. We will be arriving at twilight. I ordered the torches to be lit.” He placed his arm around her shoulders and snuggled her near to his side. He kissed her forehead and then nestled his face into her hair. “My Lizzy!” he breathed, “I cannot express my joy, my elation, to be bringing you home with me. Do you have any idea how deeply I love you?”
Her only reply was a bone-crunching hug. They held each other thus as the carriage proceeded down the tree-lined drive to the gravelly expanse before the entrance portico, not separating until the carriage slowed to a halt.
“How do I look?” she asked him.
“Stunning,” he answered truthfully. He kissed her lips tenderly and touched her cheek with his fingertips. “We are home.”
Lamps were lit in abundance, giving the house a bright and cheery glow of welcome. Scattered around the grounds were tall torches, lending increased illumination in the gathering darkness of evening. Mrs. Reynolds and Mr. Keith, the steward, waited atop the entryway steps under the wide canopy, both smiling warmly. Darcy led Elizabeth forward.
“Mrs. Reynolds, you remember Miss Elizabeth Bennet? Now it is my boundless honor and joy to introduce you to her again as my wife, Mrs. Darcy.”
Mrs. Reynolds curtseyed. Her face was beaming and, in an act of spontaneous pleasure, she took Elizabeth’s hands in hers. “Welcome to Pemberley, Mrs. Darcy. On behalf of the entire staff, I wish to express our delight in meeting you. Please rest assured that we will all endeavor to make you comfortable in every possible way. We are at your disposal.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds. Your kind words ease my heart.”
Darcy introduced Mr. Keith. “Mrs. Darcy, welcome. I echo Mrs. Reynolds’s greeting and assurances,” Mr. Keith said. “It is a tremendous honor to welcome you to the Pemberley household and family.”
Mr. & Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy: Two Shall Become One Page 8