Pemberley Celebrations - the First Year

by Kara Louise

  She was sitting with her back to the door, surrounded by the things she had removed from the storage box. When Elizabeth felt someone touch her shoulder, she jumped.

  “Oh, Fitzwilliam! You startled me!” She took a deep breath and covered her rapidly beating heart with her hand. “You were not trying to sneak up on me, were you?”

  “Not at all. I am sorry if I came upon you unawares, my dear. May I inquire as to what are you doing?”

  “Why, uh, yes, I have been going through some things that I believe belonged to your mother.”

  “And what is that you have been reading so intently?”

  Elizabeth quickly looked down at the letter and back at him. “I think it is a love letter.”

  “Indeed! From my father to my mother?” He reached out his hand for it.

  She quickly pulled it back. “Um, no, I do not think so.”

  Darcy gave her a quizzical look. “Sorry?”

  Elizabeth was not sure how to answer him.

  When she did not answer directly, Darcy repeated himself. “Elizabeth, to whom is this letter written, then?”

  She looked up at him with apprehensive eyes. “Well, it is addressed to your mother. But it is from someone else; someone whose initials are A H.”

  Darcy took the letter from her and quickly read it. Elizabeth saw his features change from inquiring to firm and set. His eyes narrowed as he lowered the letter.

  “A.H.? Who is A.H.?” His voice was raised, and he seemed troubled.

  “I would hardly know.” She tried to subtly conceal the framed portrait, but he noticed her attempt to slip it out of his sight.

  “Would you be so kind as to tell me what you are trying to hide from me?”

  “What?” Elizabeth asked innocently.

  He pointed repeatedly to her hand, which she had dropped down to her side. “That. What is that in your other hand?”

  Elizabeth sighed deeply. “It is a framed likeness of someone. And do not ask me who it is, because I cannot presume to know.” Elizabeth reluctantly showed him the picture and watched his face as he perused it. “Does he look familiar to you?”

  “Not at all. Not a very striking character.” His answers were short, and she could ascertain his temper was, too. “Where were these?”

  Elizabeth winced. This was the part she was not looking forward to telling him, but even though it might distress him, she decided it would be best to tell him the truth.

  “It was in the jewellery box, in a false bottom in the lower drawer here.” She looked up at his expressionless face. “The letter and the framed likeness were both in it.”

  He was silent for a few moments. “So you think the man in the portrait is the same one who wrote the letter?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I would have no reason to think otherwise.” She stood up and took his arm. “But it was written to her before she married your father, as you can see by the date, so it is of little consequence. I rather wonder that it was there long before your mother and father married. I imagine she must have forgotten all about it.”

  “My mother was very young when she married my father. I cannot imagine her having loved someone else before him.”

  “But dear, it is possible. It could easily have been her first love. You know how it is with first loves.” As soon as these last words were out of her mouth, she wished that she could retrieve them.

  Darcy looked at her through narrowed eyes. “No, I do not know how it is with first loves. How is it?”

  Elizabeth had wished many times that she had learned to hold her tongue, and now was one of those times. This unfortunate tendency of hers often got her in trouble. “Oh, it is just something that people say. Never mind.”

  “No, not never mind! I should like to know how it is with first loves.”

  Elizabeth skewed her mouth in contemplation of how to answer, and finally said, “They say you never really forget your very first love. That is all.”

  “That is all? Are you telling me that you still remember your first love?” Darcy interrogated, lifting an eyebrow as he glanced at his wife.

  Elizabeth felt her heart pulse rapidly. “No… no… I mean, I do remember him, but I do not still have feelings for him, it is just…”

  “So there was someone else who was your first love.” He lost no time in verbally pinning her down.

  Now Elizabeth was acutely torn as to what she should say. She decided she would turn the tables on him. “What about you? I am sure you must have had someone you would regard as a first love.”

  Darcy paused, his brows lowering before he too, acknowledged in the affirmative. “I suppose I do. But I do not think you would want to hear about her.”

  Suddenly Elizabeth felt a twinge of jealousy. Not that she had thought for a moment that she was the first woman to ever attract his heart. But never had she contemplated whether he had actually been in love with someone else before. She did not wish to appear in any way jealous, so she said, “If you wish to tell me about her, I would listen.”

  “It is of no consequence.”

  “But you see, you still remember her.”

  “Of course, I remember her. But I would certainly not keep a letter she wrote me and especially not a framed likeness of her.”

  “But what if you had put one somewhere and forgotten that you had?”

  He looked back down at the letter and frame. “I suppose that is a better explanation to its presence here than any other.” He seemed dispirited and handed them back to her. He sat down with her and began picking up some of the other items that were in the box, turning them over in his hands. She knew he was looking at the different mementos, but not seeing them. She began putting them back in the box, not wishing to discover anything else that would prompt another wayward speculation.

  They sat together in silence, and Darcy finally broke in. “So, Elizabeth, tell me about your first love.”

  Elizabeth's eyes widened in shock when she heard his request. She turned her face up to him slowly and shook her head. “Surely you do not want to hear the particulars.”

  “I most certainly would.”

  She paused, wondering what to say. There had been one fine gentleman, but before saying anything about him, she thought first about what she would say.

  “Indeed my first love would have to have been James. I met him at my Cousin Ruth Phillips's wedding. He was the groom’s brother, and I thought that he was so very handsome. He stood up for his brother and during the whole wedding I watched him instead of the bride and groom.”

  “Did you?” grumbled Darcy.

  “Yes. He was so gallantly dressed, standing up front, with the sun-light from a window shining down on his blond hair, and those deep, blue eyes...”

  Darcy started. “Blond hair and blue eyes? You fell in love with someone with blond hair?”

  Elizabeth calmly nodded. “Indeed, I did! He was probably about twenty-one or twenty-two. I could barely wait for the wedding dinner and dance, anticipating an opportunity to talk with him and hoping he would ask me to dance.”

  “And I suppose he did?”

  “Yes, he did. I do not think I have ever floated on air as much as I did during that dance.” Elizabeth looked at him teasingly.

  “Hmmph,” was Darcy's only reply.

  “I knew that night that I was in love. But as it was, I only saw him a few other times when he accompanied his brother and my cousin on their visits to Meryton. So you see, nothing was ever to come of it.”

  She turned to Darcy and smiled. “That is all.” Now she knew she had to ask him, as much as she did not want to hear about any other woman for whom he had felt a strong affection. Quietly, she forced the words to come, “What about your first love, Fitzwilliam?”

  Darcy looked at Elizabeth pensively. He returned his gaze to a porcelain dish he had picked up, fingering it absently. He suddenly seemed drawn into another world. “I was at Cambridge. There were some friends of my father who lived near the university, and I promised
him that I would look them up when I arrived. They had a daughter named Emilie.”

  Elizabeth knew immediately that she was not going to enjoy any of this. “You met her at Cambridge?”

  “Yes, while I was attending. Emilie had a very kind, soft-spoken demeanour, the widest, clearest blue eyes, and she had hair the colour of sun-kissed strawberries.”

  “She was a redhead?” Elizabeth interrupted him.

  “Not so very red, mind you. Anyway, I visited her and her family quite a few times that first year. We would spend time together on their grounds – reading, walking, horseback riding...”

  “Horseback riding?” Now Elizabeth felt a twinge of jealousy, as she had never been one to fancy riding a horse but knew her husband had a great love for it.

  “Yes. She touched my heart like no one else ever had before.”

  “And what happened?” Elizabeth inquired softly, narrowing her eyes while waiting for his answer.

  “By the end of the school year, she had formed an attachment to someone else, someone much younger than I. I was crushed and did not think I would ever get over it.”

  “But you did?”

  Darcy looked at her and smiled. “Of course, I did.”

  Elizabeth smiled back at him, but she began to wonder about this young lady who had so captured his heart. As they both stood up to leave, neither was aware that they both felt a bit piqued about what the other had shared. Darcy had often fancied himself as the one who first stole and captured Elizabeth's heart. Elizabeth had been hopeful that, even though there most likely had been other women in his life, she would have been the first he claimed to love. Then there was the whole issue of this letter and framed picture. Neither of them was in a very good mood.

  *~*~*

  For the remainder of that day and the following one, Darcy and Elizabeth remained civil toward each other, but things were tense between them. Even though both had freely inquired about their first loves, upon hearing the other's story, they had come to feel somewhat disappointed and even jealous.

  Elizabeth was determined, however, that she had to make things perfect for Valentine’s Day and proceeded with her plans for the staff to prepare her husband’s favourite meal for supper. She would have loved to plan a picnic for the two of them somewhere on the grounds, but the winter weather had continued to hold England in its grip. There were several inches of snow still on the ground; therefore, that would be out of the question. It was even too cold to go ice skating, something she would love to attempt again.

  Elizabeth thought of her gift to him, which was now wrapped in white paper, trimmed with red ribbons, and hidden in her dresser drawer. She hoped that he would be pleased with what she had selected for him. But more than that, she hoped he remembered tomorrow was Valentine's Day and that he had planned something special for her.

  She was in the dining room talking with Mrs. Reynolds about the details for his dinner the following night when Darcy strode out of his study. “And what are you two ladies in such a deep conversation about?”

  Elizabeth motioned with an indifferent wave of her hand. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Just regular household issues.”

  Elizabeth looked at her husband and smiled and then to Mrs. Reynolds, who had a rather pained look on her face. Elizabeth was puzzled by her expression, but attributed it to the housekeeper having to keep something from the master of the household. Mrs. Reynolds quickly excused herself and returned to the kitchen.

  Darcy walked over to Elizabeth and took her hand. He gently pressed it between both of his. “Well, my dearest Elizabeth. What plans have you for the rest of the day?”

  “I believe I would prefer to sit in the drawing room in front of the fire and work on the quilt I am sewing. It is far too cold to do anything outside.”

  “If you will forgive me, then, I still have work to finish, and then early tomorrow morning I must be off to tend to some business.” He leaned down to kiss her hand and then turned to walk away.

  Elizabeth suddenly felt a wave of disappointment surge through her.

  How could he forget? she thought to herself. Our first Valentine's Day and he has to leave on business!

  The rest of the day passed slowly. Elizabeth had a difficult time concentrating on the quilt. She pricked her finger with the needle several times and shoved the quilt down in frustration. How much she would like to go into his study and remind him what tomorrow was! But no, if she did that, anything he did would not seem to her to come from his heart, but rather out of obligation. She had to hope that at some point he would remember.

  Darcy's attention to business occupied him throughout the day and into the evening. In fact, when Elizabeth retired for the night, he was still tenaciously at work. She wondered if he would ever finish.

  She stirred, somewhat hazily, as he finally came to bed. She was barely awake to acknowledge him or determine what hour it was. But she felt his lips press against her cheek as he settled in beside her. Even though she had been sleeping lightly and was not fully awake, his presence beside her gave her the comfort and reassurance to drift off again into a deep, sound sleep.

  *~*~*

  Valentine's Day announced itself with birds chirping noisily, the sun shining brightly, but a cold north wind insisting upon keeping winter's hand on things. Elizabeth awakened to the warmth of a fire burning in the hearth, but a coldness by her side. Her husband was not there. She clenched her jaw and felt a sense of disappointment. She hoped that he had not yet gone. Certainly he would not have left without saying goodbye to her.

  She rang for Lucy and was surprised to receive no response. Wondering of her whereabouts, she pulled herself out of bed. She walked to the dresser and slowly opened a drawer, taking out the gift she had bought for Darcy. Hopefully, he would still be here to receive it!

  She gave the bell pull another tug and then walked into the dressing chamber, selecting a dress that was a deep red colour, very appropriate for the day, she thought. It was not one of her casual morning dresses, but afforded her just the touch of elegance she wanted for this special occasion. When her maid still did not come, she proceeded to dress without her.

  When she finished dressing, she decided she would not put up her hair until later. Perhaps Lucy was ill. It would be much easier without Lucy's help to leave it down. She picked up her husband's gift and slowly made her way down the stairs. She saw that the door to her husband's study was open, but it appeared that the room was empty. Another twinge of disappointment, but she knew he could still be anywhere at Pemberley.

  Elizabeth heard sounds from the kitchen and detected the wonderful scent of freshly baked bread. She expected that her husband was probably hungry and already in the dining room, so she proceeded there. When she entered, it was empty, but there was a bowl of fruit, a plate of freshly baked bread and rolls, and some covered dishes on the table. She set the gift down and went to the sideboard to pour herself some hot tea from the teapot.

  “Good morning.” Darcy had quietly slipped in from the kitchen, and his voice startled her, causing her cup to rattle in the saucer. He came up behind her and lifting her long loose tresses, kissed the side of her neck. “You look beautiful this morning.”

  Elizabeth turned to greet him. “Good morning, Fitzwilliam. I thought for a moment you were already gone.”

  “No. Come sit down and eat.” He directed a wide smile at her and removed the lids from the covered dishes, placing some ham and eggs onto both their plates.

  The two sat and began to eat. Elizabeth chided herself for thinking he had already quit Pemberley. But it was his next question that completely dashed her hopes that he had remembered that it was Valentine's Day.

  “What is that prettily wrapped package you have there?”

  Elizabeth looked at the package. Well, if he could not remember what day it was, that was not going to stop her from showing her love for him. She reached for the small box and handed it to him with a forced smile upon her face. “This is my Valentine's Day
gift for you.”

  She wished she could have ordered them to stop, but her eyes began to well with tears. “I am sorry for the way I have been acting these last few days. I have to admit I actually felt jealous when you told me about your first love. I just want you to know today, and every day, how much I love you.”

  He picked up the wrapped gift, looking from it to her. “You were jealous? How do you think I felt?” He set the package down in front of him, not yet opening it.

  “There was no need for you to be jealous.”

  “Oh, you are allowed to be jealous, but I am not?”

  Elizabeth tilted her head and looked up at him. She brought her fingers up and fingered his neck cloth. “To own the truth, my love, my affection for James occurred when I was a young girl. My cousins on the Phillips's side are quite a bit older than my sisters and me. When my cousin Ruth got married, he may have been one and twenty, but I was only ten years old.” She smiled tenderly and placed her hand on his. “But I always felt he was my first love.”

  A smile began to tug at the corners of Darcy's mouth. “You were only ten years old?”

  “Yes, that is why I was so jealous of you telling me about your college romance. I was only ten and you were… well, old enough to truly be in love.”

  Darcy began to chuckle, making Elizabeth all the more irritated. “I do not see what you think is so funny!” She tried to pull her hand away from his, but he grasped it firmly.

  “I believe you will when I tell you!” He looked down at her hand and gently stroked it. “It seems to me, my dear, that both our stories about our first loves were a little misleading.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Emilie, my college romance and first love, was only seven years old when I met her. I visited her parents frequently, and she would hang on me like a puppy. She always wanted me to read to her, take her for walks…”