Lizzy's seventeenth birthday gift was a finely woven garden basket for gathering flowers, pruning shears with cushioned handles, two pairs of leather gloves, and two protective frocks. It was a gift Lizzy truly needed, as she had nothing like it at Pemberley and had borrowed from the groundsmen when working in the gardens. The other package contained two exquisite perfume bottles. One was of Murano glass in a rainbow of swirling colors and filled with pure lavender perfume. The other was divinely enameled in a night sky with crescent moon and bright stars so finely painted they actually appeared to twinkle. The perfume within was jasmine extract.
They sat on the divan and Darcy nestled his face into her hair and breathed deeply. “I will always associate lavender with you, Elizabeth, as it is your favorite scent. However, I also love jasmine so thought perhaps you would wear it for me on occasion.”
“Darling, you could ask anything of me and I would grant it. This is a simple request to fulfill.” She stroked his cheeks, gazing intently into his sparkling blue eyes. “I love you passionately, Fitzwilliam,” she whispered. “I know you believe it inconsequential, but I am deeply moved by all you have done for me today. Each gift has been selected with incredible forethought and insight, presented in dazzling fashion, and surrounded with exciting events and places. I do hope you realize how grateful I am.” She kissed him slowly, teasing his lips in the special way she knew thrilled him.
She then continued, “Yet, it is you, beloved, whom I adore and treasure most. Just as you are spared artificial gestures for someone whom you do not love, I am spared being the recipient of meaningless, duty-bound overtures from some man I had married only for security or to protect my family. We are both so very blessed. I promise I will not forget it.” Clutching his head tightly with fingers weaved in his hair, they kissed long and hard.
“Elizabeth,” Darcy eventually moaned, “we should take a walk before I throw all caution to the wind and make love to you here on this divan!” Still, he traveled his soft lips to her lovely neck as one hand stimulated a full breast until she breathlessly stayed him.
Eyes glazed, they stared, collecting muddled wits and panting heavily. “Perhaps we can forgo the walk and return to the house?” she asked pleadingly.
He laughed huskily. “Excellent idea, my lover; however, I foolishly desired privacy here and sent the carriages away until five o’clock.”
“Well then, I daresay a vigorous walk is the necessary remedy to pent-up passionate energy. My bonnet is over there, if you would not mind?”
Arm in arm, they strolled over the gravel paths meandering through an abundance of blooms and trees. Other pedestrians were encountered occasionally, with cordial greetings exchanged, but the park was vast and the garden pathways mazelike, so generally, they were alone. Despite the aborted passion being their preferential afternoon activity, they thoroughly enjoyed their walk. Lizzy especially, being an avid walker and having curtailed the pastime lately, reveled in her nearly total lack of fatigue and illness.
They returned to the pavilion as the carriages were arriving. Darcy assisted his wife into the landau, another gift inside.
The drive home took thirty minutes. “The strange thing,” Darcy told her, “is that our townhouse is two blocks from the Grosvenor Gate entrance to the park. There is a small pond, a splendid garden, and some wooded areas at that edge of the park. Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley walk there frequently. However, we picnicked quite a distance from the Gate and the road travels in a roundabout manner, so we must veer northwest a bit before turning east for home. With this in mind, how about another present?” He grinned.
Another oddity hid inside. It was an intricately detailed picture of a landscape: mountains, tall trees, a lake, and a meadow in the foreground with horses grazing. It was not an exact replica of a Pemberley pasture, but the resemblance was evident. Painted on a thin piece of hard oak, it had been cut into a hundred small, irregular shaped pieces designed to interlock.
Lizzy had no idea what it was and required Darcy to explain. “It is called a dissected puzzle. They have been around for some time as an educational device. We have several at Pemberley, packed away with the schoolroom furniture and supplies. If I recall, they are all of England geography, the countries, the alphabet, and the like. I found this and thought it would be entertaining for us to work on together.”
“What an astounding concept,” Lizzy declared. “It will be tremendous fun. We should wait until the winter, when it is snowy and I am too enormous to move!”
Darcy smiled. “I cannot conceive of you ever being too enormous to move. I rather believe I will be hiding the ice skates and all your coats to prevent you escaping outside.”
The house was quiet when they returned. It was after six o’clock and dinner with the Matlocks was scheduled for seven-thirty, just enough time to clean and dress for dinner. Arms about each other's waist, they entered their sitting room. Lizzy was blissfully happy. Her only shadow of melancholy was that currently she wanted nothing more than to slowly undress her husband and curl up with him in their bed for the entire evening. She adored the elder Fitzwilliams, had grown very close to them both over the long winter and spring, and knew they wished to celebrate her birthday with her. She was touched, and yesterday the idea of dining with them had been a greatly anticipated event. Now, as Darcy hugged her and spoke in his resonant timbre, which always sent rivers of tingles up her spine especially if she were touching him as his voice vibrated lushly in his chest, her desire to continue their marvelous day of solitude nearly overwhelmed her.
She opened her mouth to speak, ready to say or do whatever it would take to persuade him to acquiesce to her preference, when he paused in the middle of the room. Her attention, therefore, was deviated to the table before her on which sat by far the strangest object she had ever beheld. It was of brass, approximately one foot tall, and vaguely resembled a miniature telescope.
“What in the world is it, William?”
Darcy was again giddy as a child. Lizzy was struck suddenly by how many of her gifts had been unusual or rare. She had not previously realized how enamored Darcy was with inventions and marvels. He stood over the bizarre contraption breathless and jittery with fascination.
“It is called a kaleidoscope. Look into the end, Elizabeth, and turn it here.”
She did as he instructed, jerking back in startled surprise, then looking again in amazement. “It is beautiful! How… it changes!” She gasped, “This is miraculous. How does it work?”
“You see,” he pointed, “the tube is filled with tiny beads and mirrors which reflect the colors in an unlimited medley of patterns. Is it not the most astounding contrivance? It was patented just last year and I have been endeavoring to obtain one since.”
“We must keep it in either the game room or the parlor so guests can enjoy it, do you not agree?”
“It is yours, dearest. Keep it wherever you wish.”
“This is far too marvelous to horde all to myself.” She had yet to remove her eye from it. “One could become bedazzled and never pull away,” she mumbled.
Darcy laughed. “As is happening to you. Have you forgotten our dinner engagement, Mrs. Darcy? Also, I have another gift for you, which must be given now to keep to the schedule.”
Lizzy reluctantly forced her concentration from the kaleidoscope, riveted next on the rather large box she had not noted on the fireplace hearth. She had frankly lost count of all her gifts. The amount of deliberation applied to flawlessly effectuate the day's happenings was phenomenal, and Lizzy was staggered.
The box hid a cuckoo clock. Lizzy laughed aloud and hugged Darcy in true joy. Longbourn boasted a cuckoo clock that her father had gifted to her mother when they were newly married. It was a family heirloom and all Lizzy's life the sound of the little blue bird announced the hour. It was one of those comforting homely realities which, over time, one no longer consciously recognizes… until it is gone. Lizzy had breezily mentioned a time or two that she missed the unique chime
of the cuckoo. Darcy, as with everything, had remembered.
The design was typical: the wooden German chalet with snowy roof, a shepherd boy with three sheep in front, and the trap door above the dial for the blue and yellow cuckoo. The workmanship was superb, and Darcy assured her that it was authentic from the Black Forest region of Germany, not that she would have suspected less from him.
A few more kisses ensued, both reluctantly separating to prepare for dinner.
Lizzy stood before the tall mirror adjusting the snug bodice of her gown for improved comfort. Marguerite was currently retrieving her new Kashmir shawl.
“As always, Mrs. Darcy, you steal the very breath from my lungs with your beauty.”
Lizzy did not even turn about, so acclimated to Darcy's presence in her dressing room. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I daresay I am gratified that new gowns are top on my list of priorities. I shall soon have naught to wear.”
Darcy walked behind her, placing hands lightly on her hips as he whispered in her ear, “Perhaps I should forbid you purchasing new gowns, beloved, then you would be forced to remain bared. I might rather enjoy that.”
Marguerite returned at that moment, forestalling Lizzy's retort, and Darcy retreated a pace. “Here you are Mistress. The colors match perfectly with your gown. Mr. Darcy has excellent taste.” She bobbed in Darcy's direction.
“Thank you, Marguerite.” He bowed, “Are you finished, Elizabeth?”
“I believe so. You may retire, Marguerite. No need to wait up for me. Enjoy your evening.” With another curtsey, she departed. Lizzy started to turn towards her husband, but he had rapidly resumed his previous pose, now with hands about her waist and lips nibbling along her neck.
“I rather wish we could stay home,” he mumbled. “As lovely as this gown is, I do believe I would prefer you out of it.”
“You are echoing the thoughts I was entertaining earlier, my love. However, you have gone to inordinate effort for this day and I would not wish to disrupt the agenda. Hold that vision, beloved, and I will happily allow you to fulfill your fantasy when we return.” She pivoted in his arms and pressed into him. “After all, I owe you a plenitude of thanks for all you have done for me today. I have been devising plans as you suggested.”
He smiled happily, kissing tenderly in pleasure but also to distract. He reached into his pocket withdrawing the last gift and slipping it about her slender neck. She pulled away with a start, fingers moving to touch the necklace. Darcy was beaming, hands turning her back to face the mirror.
“Alas, this is the final present. Or rather the last present designated for your birthday. I make no promises to desist lavishing you, my wife.”
The necklace was dainty, as both Darcy and Lizzy preferred: a single strand of small diamonds and amber linked, the teardrop pendant of translucent amber hanging precisely at the top of her cleavage. It was elegant and flawless, obviously of superior craftsmanship. Additionally, it blended fluidly with her gold-trimmed beige gown.
“Marguerite knew about this, did she not?” Lizzy smiled at her husband's reflection as he nodded. “She suggested this gown. You are a sneak, William.” He shrugged, kissing the nape of her neck.
“Amber accents your fine, chocolate eyes, dearest. The dress accents your luscious body. I win on both counts.”
“Gifts and excessive flattery. My, my, you surely do deserve abundant expressions of my gratitude, lover.”
“I shall wait with bated breath.”
The townhouse of Lord and Lady Matlock was located in the heart of St. James's Place, just north of Piccadilly. Lizzy had dined with the Earl and his wife once during her engagement, upon the occasion of her introduction to them. This dinner would naturally be quite different, as Lizzy was now family and Darcy's uncle and aunt were very dear to her. Once they were in the carriage and on their way, Lizzy discovered her previous wish to stay home fading under the anticipated pleasure of seeing the Matlocks again. They had left Derbyshire for London shortly after Elizabeth's recovery and the duel, so Lizzy did miss them.
They were greeted by the butler, who informed them that the Earl and Countess of Matlock were awaiting them in the parlor. He led the way, Lizzy holding the arm of her husband. The butler had spoken the truth. The Fitzwilliams were in the parlor, standing in the exact middle of the room to be precise. Additionally, to Lizzy's stunned astonishment, they were surrounded by a crowd.
Georgiana stood beside them, smiling and nearly hopping in delight, with Colonel Fitzwilliam grinning behind her. Mary and Kitty stood between Edward and Violet Gardiner and Charles and Jane Bingley. Caroline Bingley stood slightly apart with a faint smile gracing her pinched features. Also present were Stephen and Amelia Lathrop, Gerald and Harriet Vernor with his parents Henry and Mary Vernor, George and Alison Fitzherbert, Rory and Julia Sitwell, Clifton and Chloe Drury, as well as Albert and Marilyn Hughes. Even Richard's older brother Jonathan and his wife Priscilla were in attendance.
Virtually in unison they wished Lizzy a happy birthday. Darcy was grinning broadly, remarkably proud for executing the final crescendo to what was undeniably a momentous day of surprises. Lizzy was immediately surrounded, Darcy retreating a safe distance to contentedly observe his wife's glowing face. The press of visitors would prevent them exchanging more than a few words all evening, Lizzy only able to express her gratitude and abounding joy via glancing eye contact.
The evening consisted of a marvelous dinner with lively conversation succeeded by segregated male and female socializing. Amelia was well into her sixth month of pregnancy, with humorous tales to share in her blunt manner. Lizzy was thrilled to be able to officially announce her own expectant state, of which most in the company was ignorant. The female squeals of delight were readily heard down the hall in the game room where the men sipped their drinks, sedately congratulating Darcy with imported cigars and claps on the back.
The cap of the night was combined entertainment reminiscent of the Darcy's Christmas concert. Guests took turns at the pianoforte, while Richard played on the cello, Lady Matlock dazzled them all on the standing harp, voices from every musical range lifted, and Darcy blushingly added his violin talents for five songs. Humor was high and the gathering was carefree; and although it was a late night, Lizzy was rather amazed at her total lack of fatigue. She frequently sensed Darcy's scrutiny and was quick to meet his questioning gaze with a glorious smile.
Neither Lizzy nor Darcy was overly tired when they returned home to Darcy House. Perhaps it was in part a result of the sustained energy from the sprightly amusement of the evening, but in large portion, it was a renewed inclination to make love to each other. The girls were ushered off to their rooms, stumbling with weariness. Without preamble, Lizzy grasped her husband's hand and lead him into their room. Once there, door securely latched, she faced him and, with hands resting lightly on his chest, she kissed him affectionately.
“Fitzwilliam, my beloved, my heart,” she purred. “All day I have been blissfully at your mercy, the recipient of your love and caring and adoration. Now, lover mine, you shall be at my mercy as I explicitly communicate my love, adoration, and thankfulness.”
Darcy was smiling with breathless anticipation as his wife slowly doffed his jacket and waistcoat, sliding hands over him lingeringly as she went. The cravat easily joined the rest over a chair back, after which she directed him to a comfortable seat. Kneeling, she divested him of his boots and stockings, gently massaging his feet and calves. Darcy was already enjoying himself, the simple touch of his wife's hands on his body enough to arouse him tremendously, yet Lizzy was far from finished.
She stroked along his thighs while positioning herself between his legs, hands traveling with sluggish slowness up his body and eventually to his neck. She leaned close, brushing his parted lips with hers, whispering, “Relax and observe.”
She rose, stepped back a pace, and began unpinning her hair. Tress by silky tress tumbled in waves over her shoulders to mid-back. Once unencumbered, she raked her fingers
through the curls, shaking her head with seductive swaying causing her hair to swing wildly. Engaging his darkening eyes, she reached dainty fingers to the clasps of her gown, loosening them and peeling the fabric from her shoulders with agonizing patience. Equally as leisurely, the petticoat was untied and joined the gown in a puddle at her feet.
Darcy licked his lips, arousal evident now at the sight of his beautiful wife. She released the laces of her corset, tossing it aside, at last facing her adoring spouse in naught but her short, thin chemise, shoes, and stockings. The soft slippers stripped off with ease. Lizzy paused, standing still as the excitement of Darcy's smoldering gaze raking up and down her body sent shivers of desire racing through her. The powerful and mutual passion they incited with mere glances never ceased to astound.
Taking a step toward the chair, Lizzy lifted a leg, placing her foot on the edge precisely at Darcy's groin. He groaned, shifting against her wiggling toes. Lizzy smiled smugly, leaning over slightly—enough to expose the round top of her bosom—as she delicately and with supreme deliberation untied the ribbons to her stocking.
Darcy was mesmerized, mouth open and nearly drooling. She had never stripped for him in quite this leisurely and seductive a fashion. Both of her precious hands slipped under a silk edge, caressing her velvety skin from thigh to toe as she exposed a shapely leg and pulled the stocking away. Darcy moaned, closing his eyes in intense pleasure and impulsively reaching to caress her thigh. She batted his hand away gently, shifting the other leg to the chair and repeating the entire process.
Remaining within his knees, she finally bared herself completely, the chemise discarded as slowly as the rest, with purposeful caressing over her flesh as he avidly watched, nearly incoherent with the hunger to touch her.
Standing nude, she remained still for several heartbeats, noting his intensity and tense urgency.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered. “Lord. You are so beautiful.”
Loving Mr. Darcy Page 14