Tightly packed into three open carriages with baskets, blankets, croquet and other game equipment, fishing poles, and a few miscellaneous necessities about their feet, the current inhabitants of Pemberley set off. Humor was high. Picnics always have a mysterious influence on folks, creating a carefree, childlike exuberance nearly impossible to resist. Lizzy was especially excited, as they were journeying along a thin track through the forest that led to a hidden lake and grassy knoll some three miles into Pemberley lands. She had never visited this part of the estate, as many of Darcy's planned excursions with his wife for spring having been postponed due to her accident.
The half-hour journey was delightful all by itself. Lizzy sat next to Darcy, who drove the open buggy, with Kitty and Georgiana seated in back. George Darcy commandeered the second vehicle with Anne de Bourgh and Dr. Penaflor. The last was steered by Richard with Jane, Charles, and Caroline Bingley. The narrow wagon trail was primarily utilized by the Pemberley huntsmen, so was rough, steep in places, and minimally maintained. Nonetheless, the terrain traversed was beautiful, counteracting the discomfort, at least as far as Lizzy was concerned. The vast forest looming to the east of the Manor covered miles upon miles, stretching far beyond the boundaries of Pemberley. Aside from the fringes, which formed the hidden grotto behind the Greek Temple, Lizzy had entered none of the wooded acreage.
The majority of the trees were species of oak with the random Scots pine, birch, rowan, and ash, many covered with a blanket of lichen and moss. Ground flora was thick in most places with a smattering of wildflowers, bluebells, rhododendrons, ivy, and ferns amongst the numerous shrubs. They halted at an extensive wild blackberry thicket, picking a bucket of dark berries for a later treat. The trees were dense in patches, impenetrable to the view beyond. Other stretches were sparse, allowing one to see for great distances, the grove extending for miles. The air was far cooler under the canopy of branches and leaves, smelling sweetly of fresh blooms, musky earth, and moldering wood. Twitters and warbles of varied birds were audible, mingled with the occasional scurry of small woodland creatures. At one point they stopped suddenly to allow a family of deer to cross the trail, and twice startled a fox. Darcy, the hawk-eyed hunter that he was, managed to efficiently drive and point to about two dozen game fowl and several rabbits, most of which the women did not see.
Passing by sundry divergent horse paths, the main track finally exited the edge of the wood, disappearing into a grass and clover carpeted meadow surrounding a generous sized, sandy-shored lake. Lizzy caught her breath, standing up without thinking and then grabbing her husband's arm to avoid tumbling onto the grass when he halted the carriage. Recovering instantly, she jumped out with a squeal of delight.
“William, it is so beautiful!”
Darcy previously told her the lake was named Rowan Lake, which she had rightfully assumed referred to the tree. What she had not understood was exactly why. There was a scattering of ash, birch, and oaks about the edges of the lake as the forest completely encompassed the area. Two enormous, ancient oaks dotted the meadow and provided essential shade. However, the rowan was preeminent. Furthermore, midway along the right hand shore an isthmus of pebbly sand connected to a small island roughly in the middle of the lake. The island boasted huge moss-covered boulders amid which grew a dozen rowan trees, currently bursting with white flowers and bright red berries. Beyond the isthmus, a score of tiny babbling creeks exited the rocky edges of the forest, forming a tributary that fed the lake.
The carriages were halted at the border, occupants disembarking with expressions of delight. Darcy, heart slowly returning to its regular rhythm after the near mishap of his childlike bride, felt a swell of pride. Naturally, he personally had nothing to do with the beauty around them, was simply lucky enough to be born into the Darcy family. Nonetheless, he adored sharing the wonders of their home with his wife. He lightly encircled her waist, leaning for a kiss to her temple.
“Dearest, it is breathtaking. Thank you for thinking of this spot for our picnic. Are there many more such areas in Pemberley?”
“Nothing quite like this. There are some unusual rock formations, small streams with fishing holes, terrain beautiful for its ruggedness or particular vegetation, and there are two areas with caves and caverns. One is within walking distance of this place, along that trail there,” he said as he pointed to a barely discernible path to the right.
“Can we walk there later? I have never seen a true cavern before.” Her eyes were shining; the consummate lover of nature and the outdoors inflamed at the idea of new adventures.
Darcy chuckled. “Perhaps, if you feel up to it. I am not sure the exploration of caverns is wise in your condition, my love, but we can look. I have not been to the cave in years.”
Lizzy turned to her husband with a grin. “Let me guess. You and Richard, along with Mr. Vernor and Mr. Hughes, would play daring miners or Neanderthal cave dwellers?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“Alright you two, quit dillydallying! There is work before pleasure, remember? I believe that is an English truism and virtue?” Uncle George, wearing a flowing outfit of beige linen with woven geometric waves of gold, scarlet, emerald green, and purple across the entire back and hem of the tunic, sauntered past with a canvas sack slung over his back.
“He rather resembles a gaudy, very thin Father Christmas, does he not?” Lizzy asked with a laugh, Darcy nodding.
They returned to the buggies while Dr. Darcy emptied his sack onto a level field of grass and proceeded to design a croquet course. The men carried the numerous baskets to the shady area, the women spreading the blankets and pillows. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Dr. Penaflor erected two broad umbrellas to expand the shade beyond that offered by the oaks. Lizzy had expressly ordered Mrs. Langton to expend no energy on the picnic victuals, her efforts monopolized by festival requirements. The cook had done as asked, merely stuffing the four baskets with remains from recent meals and fresh fruits, nuts, breads, and whatever else was at hand. It was not fancy, but it was more than adequate.
Lizzy and Jane placed the piles of food items onto a middle blanket, small plates and utensils nearby, allowing the picnickers to nibble as they wished. Kitty and Georgiana had immediately stripped their shoes and stockings, currently splashing along the edge of the cold water.
Soft conversation flowed, though most of the party was eagerly devoted to eating rather than idle chat. Lizzy leaned against her husband's bent leg, he reclining onto the oak's trunk. It was the last day of July, quite hot with the sun shining fiercely. Fortunately, there was a steady breeze, more warm than cool, but it eased the heat somewhat. All the women utilized their fans and were thankful to have worn light dresses and wide-brimmed hats. The men wore suits of finely woven kerseymere in pale shades of tan and grey; even Darcy wore a coat of ash grey over a grey waistcoat in an attempt to survive the heat. All of the men gazed in envy at Dr. Darcy, currently assisting Richard with the task of stringing kites, appearing cool and exceedingly comfortable in his loose Indian garb.
Caroline voiced all their thoughts when she turned to Raul Penaflor and said, “I daresay Dr. Darcy seems unperturbed by the balmy weather. Why do you not wear Indian outfits, Dr. Penaflor?”
He shrugged and smiled. “At the moment, I am wondering the exact thing, Miss Bingley! I do at times; however, Dr. Darcy has lived in India far longer than I and is greatly enmeshed into the culture. You may not believe it, but his appearance now is actually quite tame to how he is in Calcutta. He speaks numerous dialects fluently, naturally assumes the mannerisms of the locals, and dresses accordingly. I, however, am not as adaptable. I cling stubbornly to my familiar ways.”
“How long have you worked for the East India Company, Dr. Penaflor?” Lizzy asked.
“Five years, Mrs. Darcy. George was my mentor when I first arrived. I was naïve, out of school just three years with so much to learn. He took a shine to me, a surprise to the fellow physicians, I later discovered, as George Darcy repu
tedly disdained the new arrivals. It may be hard to believe, observing his playfulness, but he is an astounding physician and tremendously serious about his craft. He is a gifted diagnostician with nearly magical skills. Therefore, he has little patience for foolish or inexperienced practitioners. Why he chose me is a mystery, but I am thankful.”
Anne spoke in her muted voice, “He sensed that you share the same gift, Dr. Penaflor. He diagnosed you, so to speak.” She smiled shyly and they all laughed.
“Perhaps, Miss de Bourgh, although I would be blessed to harbor a third his skill.”
“Do you plan to return to India with him, Doctor?” Jane asked.
He glanced briefly toward Anne, who was gazing into her lap and did not note the unconscious gesture, answering after a slight hesitation, “I suppose so, Mrs. Bingley. At least that has been my intention. I have no desire to return to Spain; however, England is intriguing and has certain merits. A physician could earn a comfortable living in private practice or working in one of the hospitals.”
Lizzy smiled, glancing to Darcy's calculating face. A girlish squeal diverted all their attention to the lakeshore where Kitty and Georgiana were flying their kites. Darcy laughed aloud at the sight of his baby sister nearly launched off her feet by a gusting updraft, Uncle George leaping to assist her. Richard called to the group, “Elizabeth, Mrs. Bingley, come get your kites.”
Lizzy laughed, pivoting swiftly to plant a quick kiss to her husband's cheek, then grasped Jane's hand and pulled her to her feet. Charles looked to his sister from where he stood stringing fishing poles, Caroline's expression indecipherable as she watched the frivolity transpiring on the beach. “Caroline, join them. I believe we brought six kites, did we not Darcy?”
Darcy nodded affirmative, Jane speaking favorably, “Oh do come, Caroline! It is our duty to entertain the gentlemen.” Caroline hesitated, clearly unsure if the activity was below her dignity, deciding positively upon glancing to Mr. Darcy's glowing face as he attended to his wife's pleasure, Lizzy already initiating her dash across the meadow to launch her kite.
“Dr. Penaflor,” Charles inquired, “do you like to fish?”
“I have undertaken the endeavor only a handful of times in my life, but found it a pleasant diversion.” He stood as he spoke, “You may have to assist me in the particulars of the craft, Mr. Bingley.”
Darcy spoke, eyes yet focusing on Elizabeth, “The fish here are incredible, Doctor. The Lake is rarely disturbed, so the fish are allotted long seasons to grow to astounding proportions. Nor do they learn via the fish communication system to avoid strange dangling silver hooks.”
Anne laughed. Charles chuckled as well, asking his friend, “Will you join us Darcy?”
“Later, Bingley. I believe I will relax and visit with my cousin.” He gestured toward the island, “The best pools are on the far side of the island where the water is in shadow and very deep.”
The men set off, Darcy and Anne happily easing into the calm silence. The kite-wielding women were laughing and cavorting in delight, George and Richard in the thick of it. Darcy observed his wife with serene peace, thrilled to note that the precious swell of their child could intermittently be noted when the breeze plastered her gown against her slim body.
“William, your wife is a delight. I truly cannot express how happy I am for you.”
“Thank you, Anne. She is wonderful and I am beyond happy. Giddy, even, ridiculously so at times! Richard takes enormous pleasure in teasing me about my irrepressible joy.” Darcy smiled and Anne laughed.
“Perhaps some day you can return the favor, although he does seem firmly entrenched into the world of bachelorhood.”
Darcy peered at his cousin, who was serenely staring toward the lake. Her color remained paler than most, but with a pink tinge to her cheeks and lips the color of ripe strawberries. To one unacquainted with Anne de Bourgh, her frailty and faintly translucent skin would yet be obvious. To Darcy, who had watched her evolve from a vigorous child and adolescent to the pinched, tremulous young adult she had become, she now radiated health.
“Is the same true of you, dear Anne? Firmly entrenched or ready to climb out of your solitary hole?”
“You of all people know how painful it is for me, William. We share that trait. I think in a strange way I embraced my illness as an excuse to hide.” She smiled, meeting his tender gaze. “It is somewhat of a shame our love was too strong to allow us to settle for each other, Wills. You would have been the safe choice for me. Now I have to contend with mother's arrangements.” She laughed at his pained eyes, leaning to pat his hand. “Do not fret so, cousin. I may be a bit timid and inordinately complacent, but my backbone is not entirely comprised of jelly. I will refuse anyone too disgusting. Fortunately, I do not have to marry for money.”
They were silent for a time, both dwelling on the past as well as the future. From their earliest remembrances, Lady Catherine had spoke of a union. When they were very young they had merely laughed, the concept of marriage to anyone being grotesque. As adolescents, the idea was met with mutual absurdity. The thought of marrying someone who was as close as a sibling was repellent. With the onset of adulthood, the reality that cousins did frequently marry prompted them to honestly deliberate the subject. By that time, Anne was ill with an unknown condition and Darcy was Master of Pemberley. As far as they were concerned, it was an untenable possibility on numerous levels. However, the main rationale was a genuine desire for the other to find what their hearts yearned for. Darcy needed a spirited, vibrant woman who he could truly love, his internal pain and emptiness intuitively understood by Anne. In contrast, Anne required a man with minimal demands who was tranquil and easygoing. Darcy and Anne loved each other, and that love would have, if pushed, bound them in mutual respect and care, but not true happiness or fulfillment.
Darcy broke the silence, speaking frankly as he would to few people in the world. “How run your feelings for Dr. Penaflor?” He expected Anne to blush and equivocate, so was surprised when her contemplative gaze traveled to the doctor where he sat upon a moss draped boulder as he fished.
“I am not sure, William.” She spoke in a hushed tone, as if speaking more to herself than another. “Is my attraction to him because he has restored my health? Is it because he is exotic? Or am I merely lonely and he is the only available male in my immediate circle? Are those reasons acceptable? Unacceptable? And what does any of that matter if he is merely being polite and does not return my interest?” She smiled and turned to Darcy. “You see how terrible I am at this? Perhaps I should take lessons from Mrs. Darcy as to how one wins the hand of their soul mate.”
Darcy snorted. “By all means, do not ask for my instruction! I succeeded by blind fortune and the grace of God. As for Dr. Penaflor, I judge he returns your interest, Anne, but must add the caveat that I am not intimate with him so cannot be certain. Keep yourself open to the possibility, would be my only counsel. He is a worthy man.”
Anne had resumed her study of the fishing gentleman, her countenance sad. “Mother would never consent, so it is all moot speculation.”
“I concur that it would require much persuasion; however, he is a proper match from an elite family, wealthy, and educated. I do not imagine it impossible.”
Finally Anne blushed and lowered her head. “We should not be talking about him this way, William. He probably sees me as a patient and nothing more, yet here I am mentally shackling him not only to me but to mother as well! That is just plain evil!” They both laughed, recognizing the truth in her statement.
Elizabeth caught her husband's eye, blew a kiss, and then gestured for him to join her. Darcy smiled and waved, sitting up from his reclined pose. “Dearest Anne,” he said, leaning close to his cousin and pressing her hand under his, “all I can assert with absolute confidence is the astounding joy to be found in a union with one whom you love and who loves you in return. Do not allow Lady Catherine or any other to convince you it does not matter. Do not settle for less than at the v
ery least a mutual affection, promise me this!”
She intently studied his fierce, emotional eyes, surprisingly moved despite her recognition of the intensity of love in the Darcys’ marriage. Seriously, she replied, “I promise, William. I will not settle.”
The remainder of the afternoon passed pleasantly in frivolous pursuits. Capriciousness and jocosity reigned. Croquet was a triumph, although no one seriously attended to the actual rules of the game, fun prevailing over rivalry. Lizzy mischievously fixated on knocking Darcy's ball off course, vexing him initially, as his intrinsic disposition was a competitive one, but her glittering eyes and coy smile warmed his heart. In fact, as the nonsense escalated, the object of the contest rapidly became hitting another's ball rather than sending one's own through a hoop. Therefore, no one person could claim victory with any clarity.
Darcy and his uncle pitched a chessboard between them, settling in for a serious competition. Richard joined Dr. Penaflor and Charles on the island with pole in hand. The ladies sat quietly until Darcy nonchalantly mentioned that a thicket of wild strawberries grew along a casually indicated pathway, or at least had in years past. He glanced at Lizzy with an imperceptible nod toward Jane and she smiled. Darcy well knew how Lizzy longed for sisterly company with her eldest sibling, and that such solitude had been difficult to arrange even with the small number of visitors currently crowding them.
“Strawberries! How delightful. Jane, walk with me and let's see if we are in luck.” Lizzy stood, leaning to kiss her husband's cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He snatched her hand, drawing it to his lips for a lingering kiss. “Enjoy yourselves. The path is easy and the thicket is not more than a hundred yards in.”
Loving Mr. Darcy Page 34