They turned north from Tutbury, planning a relatively short circle back to Derby. The journey home would be long, as Darcy intended to visit a few places of interest along the way, so he did not wish to travel too far afield today. Therefore, they snaked leisurely through the farmlands and tiny towns dotting the plain. They traveled north through Church Broughton to Longford, onward to Shirley then veering east to Brailsford. Along the way, they stopped as the mood arose to sightsee another church or ruin, nibble a snack, or simply stretch their legs.
After luncheon at a pub in Brailsford, they turned southeast toward Derby. The last stop of significance was Mackworth Castle—or rather, the finely detailed gatehouse of what may have been a castle. Here was a location of true mystery. Why would the arch and façade of a two-story structure be all that remained of a manor house? Was the house destroyed utterly without leaving a trace except for the untouched gatehouse? Or was it some unknown man's folly and never completed? Why was there no history surrounding the structure? Apparently the questions would never be answered.
It was a humorous, puzzling end to a glorious sojourn in lower Derbyshire. The goal of acquainting Elizabeth Darcy with her new home was flourishing. Darcy was supremely satisfied in all ways, and Lizzy did sense a greater kinship and connection to the land that would be her home for many years to come and her children's home. She knew that Darcy now itched to drag her to the wealth of attractions the Peak District boasted. Englishmen were by nature territorial, especially the gentry. For a man of Darcy's station and lineage, Derbyshire was more than merely the place he resided. It was in his blood. His very identity was first as a man of Derbyshire then as an Englishman. Lizzy did not know if she would ever attain his level of affinity for the region, but she understood his passion and felt it touch her through him. It affected her most profoundly when their child moved inside her. The reality that she carried the heir to Pemberley, and all that it meant not only to her husband but also to the future of Derbyshire, was a staggering, but also a joyous honor.
LIZZY WOKE THE FOLLOWING at eight-thirty to an empty bed. There was nothing at all unusual about that, although she was surprised Darcy had allowed her to sleep so late. His agenda for the journey home was a secret, but the distance to Pemberley was a nearly two-hour carriage ride without halting. She had assumed he would want to depart early.
Donning a robe, she entered the small sitting room to discover her husband busily scribbling at the desk. He jumped up when she entered, Lizzy laughing and waving him down. She was forever telling him not to do that, but long years of gentlemanly manners could not be erased. He ignored her gesture, approaching with a smile.
“Good morning, my love! Did you sleep well?” He kissed her forehead, smoothing through her hair.
“I always sleep well, dearest, except for when your hot body smothers me completely!”
Darcy grinned. “Forgive me. Even subconsciously I must be near you. I have no control over the matter. Tea and a scone?”
“Yes, please.” She sat, tucking her feet under her. “No need to apologize, William. I simply elbow you hard and you roll away, temporarily at least. Come winter you can repay the treatment when I slip my frozen feet between your thighs.” She lifted her face for a kiss, which he happily bestowed. “What are you so diligently working on this morning?”
He resumed his seat, taking a long gulp of coffee before answering. “A letter to Mr. Keith.” He turned to her, face animated. “I had a thought, if you are amenable and physically tolerant. Our miniature holiday prior to our main one in September has thus far proceeded so enjoyably that I am considering extending it for a few more days. Does this appeal to you?”
Lizzy was already nodding positively. “It definitely appeals to me! I am having a marvelous time, darling, and love sightseeing. Physically I am wonderful, although I would request traversing well maintained roads.” She rubbed her lower abdomen with a grimace, Darcy instantly frowning.
“Why do you say that?”
“The bumpy road to the glade day before yesterday was uncomfortable on my stretching muscles.” She smiled and smoothed the robe fabric tight over a remarkably protruding belly.
Darcy, however, was pale and scowling. “You did not tell me you were in pain, Elizabeth.” His voice was low and stern, eyes steely.
Lizzy sighed, rolling her eyes. “I never will tell you, Mr. Darcy, if you display that face each time! You worry too much, William. It is perfectly normal but uncomfortable nonetheless. I was fine the second we stopped, as you are well aware by how I attacked you not ten minutes later! All I am requesting is we avoid rugged terrain, otherwise I am right as rain and eager for more adventures with you.” She smiled placidly and sipped her tea.
Darcy was yet frowning and thinking frantically. The fear of her not confiding in him due to his overbearing anxiety was a threat he could readily imagine his stubborn Elizabeth implementing. However, he could not pretend he did not fret nor could he allow her stubbornness to push her into overextending herself or ignoring a negative symptom. With consideration of her one request, he resumed.
“Very well then. I have been giving this some thought for the past two days, assuming you would be agreeable to prolonging our journey.” He leaned forward, gazing at her seriously. “My preference, in truth my greatest desire, is to travel through Dovedale and tour the High Peak. Not only is the region majestic and the supreme attraction in all Derbyshire, but,” he paused and shifted uncomfortably, holding her eyes, “Elizabeth, I am keenly cognizant that your trip was prematurely cancelled last year. Since that time, I have deeply yearned to be the one to show you my country, be your tour guide as it were.” He smiled faintly, Lizzy gazing with love in return. “I had a trip planned for early May, but that too was interrupted.”
A cloud of pain crossed his face and Lizzy hastily rose and nestled onto his lap, Darcy hugging tightly. He rested his head against her shoulder, Lizzy kissing the top. “I never knew, William,” she said softly. “Why did you not tell me?”
He shrugged. “It slipped my mind at first and then seemed irrelevant. My joy was having you alive. Adventures and prideful boasting of landscapes paled in significance. Anyway, I imagined that we could tour this fall, but I fear I still judge it unwise.” He glanced up at his wife with a slight grin. “At the risk of incurring your irritation at my worrying overly and being presumptuous and domineering, I will remind you of your own request to avoid rugged roads.”
She arched a brow, gazing questioningly, “You are confusing me, beloved. Are we touring the High Peak or not?”
“I fear not. It is my desire, but perhaps we can finagle a trip there in the spring or next fall. I do worry about you and our child, Elizabeth. Forgive me, but I cannot deny it. Also, I am needed back at Pemberley in five days at the latest for the arrival of Duke Grafton's mares. We could not do justice to the region if rushed, but that does not mean we cannot prolong our trip other places. Please tell me you understand, love?”
Lizzy chuckled, cupping his cheek and leaning in for a long kiss. “My dearest love, you do worry far too much! I will be residing in Derbyshire for the remainder of my life. I am quite certain this will accord us a multitude of opportunities to travel. I do not believe the Peaks will be disappearing anytime soon. Wherever we go will be wonderful because I am with you, not due to the landscape or artifacts.”
Darcy sighed in relief. “I love you, Mrs. Darcy, so very much.”
“Yes, I know,” she answered pertly with a peck to his nose.
She rose, but he grasped her hand, halting her leaving. Placing both broad hands over the daily-burgeoning swell of their son, he held her, waiting and smiling happily when a faint nudge was felt. “I can no longer completely secure him under my hands,” he noted. “In four months we shall see his face, my heart, perhaps less.” He nuzzled his face against the soft mound, kissing tenderly and murmuring nonsense.
Lizzy ran her fingers through his hair, delighting in these moments which were fast becoming a
ritual. Darcy's need to connect on some level with his child was instinctual and so incredibly endearing. Additionally, his devotion to and adoration for her “bump,” as she teasingly named it, allayed her sporadic private feelings of dismay at her changing form. Already, though with so much baby growth yet to occur, Lizzy experienced moments of awkwardness and unattractiveness. Her husband, however, seemed unaffected, unless it was to be increasingly amorous and worshipful of her body.
Two hours later they were on the road. Now traveling in the Darcy coach, comfortably nestled on the plushly padded seats with windows open and shades up, Lizzy said a silent adieu to Derby. Their purchases were to be delivered to Pemberley, Darcy having hired a transport wagon yesterday. Today he had sent letters to Mr. Keith and Mrs. Reynolds by express courier warning of the wagon's arrival and of their plans. As for the plans themselves, Lizzy remained uninformed.
Darcy relished these little surprises and Lizzy trusted him, so had no issue with sitting back and watching the scenery go by. They exited town, heading north on the main thoroughfare, which they had entered on, slicing down the middle of Derbyshire. Assuming they had adequately covered the southern and immediate east and west of the lower Midland of Derbyshire, and aware that they were foregoing the northwest and far north for this trek, Lizzy figured they would veer northeast. She was correct.
Only a mile or two up the road, they did diverge. At this point, Darcy decided to enlighten his wife. “I realized we would not have the time to traverse the entire Peak, beloved; however, I figured we could see a remnant of it. Since you relish caverns, the least we can do on this trip is explore one or two.” Lizzy's eyes brightened with excitement and Darcy laughed, squeezing her hand. “Before you leap for joy and rap your head on the ceiling, allow me to explain. I have plotted a circuitous route through the Ilkeston district to Chesterfield today. The town is second to Derby in size, so we can shop if you are not yet weary of the activity.” He paused with a grin, halting her sharp retort with a kiss.
“We can tarry there for a couple of days, shop, see the local attractions, and visit the Sitwells, if you wish it, as Reniswahl Manor is nearby. Then we can travel to Castleton to view Peak Cavern before returning to Pemberley. It is merely the lower edge of the Peak, but it will provide a taste of what to expect at a later date.”
Lizzy was practically bouncing in her seat with enthusiasm. “William, you are brilliant! This is a perfect end to our holiday!” She threw her arms about his neck, hugging his shoulders and kissing his face.
Laughingly, he grabbed her rapidly moving face, pulling in for a centered kiss, and then withdrew to meet her shining eyes. “Thank you for your enthusiasm, love. I fear I must warn you that the terrain between here and Castleton is rather dull. No rugged roads, as you requested, but, alas, the countryside is tame and relatively devoid of interesting peculiarities.”
Lizzy shook her head. “I shall be with you. That is all that truly matters. Besides, I adore pastoral countryside and do not deem it dull in the least. You shall make it exciting, William. My own wonderful, personal tour guide.”
He stroked her cheek with a smile. “A challenge, then, for me to dazzle you. Ah,” he glanced out the window as the carriage slowed, “our first destination. The village of Horsley.” They stood before another church, this one stunning and remarkably different in style then all the ones visited thus far. The entire structure of beautiful grey stone, ornate with a strongly buttressed, spire-topped tower nestled on a grassy, flower laden rise. An ancient cemetery graced the immediate surrounds, dating back to the thirteenth century. A fifteenth century addition of a high clerestory with a dramatic array of windows under a handsome parapet of battlements and pinnacles gave the church a castle-like appearance. The multitude of windows lit the wide interior to nearly full daylight intensity. It was wholly spectacular.
Lizzy and Darcy wandered about, once again filled with the peace which inevitably saturated such places. The moderate hill yielded a stupendous view of the immediate environs to the north. Despite Darcy's dismal prediction of monotony, Lizzy found the landscape breathtaking. The endless rolling hills stretched to the horizon, hazy grey mist merging the sky with the land. Glittering little streams and patchwork-quilt fields of crops and orchards with simple country homes were all that was readily seen, but it was serene and earthy. The air was teeming with freshly tilled soil, sweet flowers, cut grass, the songs of birds and bleats of sheep, and a host of other natural sensations.
Lizzy inhaled deeply, squeezing her husband's arm in contentment. “It reminds me of our home. Growing things, organic and wild, and the workaday life of unpretentious folk. I have always adored simplicity and raw nature. I am thankful that, for all the opulence of Pemberley even with its cultured gardens, at its heart, it is a farm and a home.” She glanced up at Darcy, who was looking at her in astonishment. “You see, my love, we never were that different, you and I. I may have more easily dressed the part of a country girl, but your soul is of the land.”
It was with tremendous effort that Darcy resisted embracing his wife where they stood in public. He cleared his throat gruffly, blinked several times, and silently squeezed her hand in return.
The eight miles to Alfreton were entirely rural, the villages passed tiny in the extreme. Twice they were forced to halt for herding sheep crossing the road and once to lend a ride to an elderly man whose wagon wheel had broken. They entered Alfreton, a community predominately reliant on coal mining, nestled in the Amber River Valley, on their Friday market day. Farmers from miles around converged to sell their wares every Friday since 1251. Neither Darcy nor Lizzy were aware of this fact, it being a local event, but were thrilled nonetheless. The narrow streets were jammed, forcing the Darcys to disembark on the edge of town, Darcy commanding Mr. Anders to circle around to the north where they would meet him later. The Darcys set out to explore, a blushing Samuel escorting his betrothed in the opposite direction through the press of people and stalls.
The festive atmosphere was enchanting. Stall upon ceaseless stall of fresh vegetables and fruits, cured meats and sausages, homemade ales and wines, arts and crafts, and so forth. Vendors sold delicious smelling meat pies and tarts, whole roasted turkey legs, corn on the cob, stews, freshly baked breads and pastries, and so much more. Deciding on which culinary delight to devour was agony! Lizzy ate until she almost felt ill, and Darcy was apparently a bottomless pit.
A stall selling lovely bracelets of polished stones intrigued Lizzy and she purchased one for each girl child and caretaker at the orphanage. For the boys, she purchased small, hand-whittled whistles, sure to delight the boys and irritate the adults. For Georgiana, who incessantly complained of the cold, she found slippers fashioned of sheepskin. They were unadorned but sturdy, with thick soles and excellent stitching.
They wandered leisurely through the crowded streets, listened to the varied minstrels playing, watched a puppet show and a crude enactment of Henry V on the grassy village square, and were charmed at the overheard conversations of the locals, which universally centered on romance and agriculture. The press of people thinned as they reached the northern boundary of the village, meeting up with the carriage and Samuel and Marguerite. They resumed their journey, after providing Mr. Anders and Phillips with fresh food and small mugs of ale.
Pausing briefly in Tibshelf, mainly for Darcy to show Lizzy one of the shallow coal mines the area has been famous for since the 1500s, when Bess of Hardwick had opened the first one. Darcy stood with his wife on a low rise near the edge of the village; across a narrow gorge sat a hulking monstrosity in grey and black with smoke billowing from tall stacks. It was one of the new deep mines recently opened to delve hundreds of feet into the ground for hidden caches of coal. With expressions of disgust, they watched the blackened workers attending to their duties while Darcy explained the fundamentals as best as he knew them.
“Do you invest in coal mining?” Lizzy asked nervously, fearing a positive response.
Darcy shoo
k his head. “No. I have looked into the prospect and it is tempting, as the industry is profitable and I fear the wave of the energy future. However, I could not bring myself to be a part of such a filthy and dangerous production. Cotton milling and the various occupations necessary to keep Pemberley solvent are hazardous enough. Besides, I have a sufficient number of ventures to keep me busy.”
He smiled at the relief written on her face, taking her elbow and steering her along the pathway until the ugly mine had disappeared from view. In stark contrast to the dismal vision of scarred landscape to the south was the majestic mansion Hardwick Hall. Standing again on the edge of a shallow vale, Lizzy and Darcy could clearly see the stupendous house and magnificent grounds. In fact, Hardwick Hall, the breathtaking mansion home of the wealthy Elizabeth Hardwick, could readily be seen from nearly all points of the little hamlet.
“As you know, my love, versed in English history as thoroughly as you are, the Countess of Shrewsbury was a powerful and rich woman, second only to Queen Elizabeth herself. I must confess that if any Derbyshire mansion rivals Pemberley, it would be Hardwick.”
“I will concur that it is impressive, dearest. I do not think I have ever encountered a house with such enormous windows. Perhaps I too am merely prejudiced, but I think I prefer the baroque style of Pemberley to the Tudor. In the end, I suppose it depends on one's taste without there being a definitive winner. Pemberley seems homier and not so ostentatious. I could never imagine a Darcy wanting their initials boldly emblazoned from each pinnacle!”
Darcy laughed, glancing at her impishly. “Are you certain? I was just envisaging how it would look to have E. D. in scrolling steel or marble on all four corners of the manor.”
Lizzy seriously shook her head, but her lips were twitching with humor. “Too bold, William. Perchance a niche in the parlor for a carved idol and candles? Or possibly a blooming hedge shaped like my face?”
Loving Mr. Darcy Page 46