Mr. Darcy Takes the Plunge

by J Marie Croft

  “Absolutely not, my darling wife; I distinctly heard you say ravish.”

  They found their sisters waiting good-naturedly in the music salon; and the four proceeded to the dining room where they feasted on an exemplary roast goose and vegetables, followed by Christmas pudding. While the others made their way to the drawing room, Lizzy dashed upstairs to fetch her gifts for Fitzwilliam, Anna, and Mary.

  With Balthasar, Romulus, and Remus settled by his feet, the gentleman insisted he be the first to distribute presents to the ladies. Anna received a lovely cameo brooch as well as a recently published three-volume novel, Sense and Sensibility by A Lady. Mary thanked him for a mother-of-pearl needlework étui with stiletto, bodkin, thimble, scissors, and needle case. Lizzy was presented with ruby earrings to match her necklace, three packages of pretty personalized writing paper so she could keep in touch with her loved ones so far away, and a book on paint and pigmentation, The Paint Ingredient, by Lindsey Doyle.

  Elizabeth gifted her husband with a rare 1766 volume of the skillfully-illustrated The Anatomy of the Horse by George Stubbs. “My love, how ever did you acquire this book? I have tried to procure it for years. Thank you. Do you remember how I raved about Stubbs’ artwork when we were at the Royal Academy exhibition? His paintings of horses are positively brilliant.”

  “Yes, I did remember. My uncle and Papa searched for that first edition for months. It is advantageous, you know, to have a relation in the import/export trade; and Uncle Gardiner does have many valuable connections.” She next rather bashfully handed him another gift, which she had wrapped in a handkerchief painstakingly embroidered with his family crest.

  Darcy admired her needlecraft and quoted Voltaire. “Love is a canvas furnished by nature and embroidered by imagination.” He untied the ribbon, and a silver pocket watch was revealed. As he turned it over, the light caught the engraving on the reverse, “For my HB ~ with all my love ~ E.” Fitzwilliam smiled uncertainly at his wife and said, “This is an exceptionally fine watch, Lizzy; however, I am alarmingly jealous. My initials are FD. Was this intended for some other man? It cannot be your father since his initials are TB. Does HB, perchance, symbolize husband?”

  Anna tittered, thereby raising her brother’s suspicion. “Oooh no! Please do not tell me it represents … what I think it represents. I will not be able to pull this out of my waistcoat pocket. What if someone questions the engraving?”

  Lizzy’s eyes sparkled and her sassy smile taunted. “You could always bestow one of your flinty, imperious glares and say HB stands for … um, Huffing Buffoon? Hot-headed Bonehead? Hokey Bloke? Huggable Bugbear? No? Well, you shall simply have to acknowledge it is from your wife to her Handsome Bar … ”

  “No! Do not say it aloud.” He glanced at Lizzy’s sister, who was desperately attempting to stifle her giggles. “Mary … you know? You do know! Elizabeth! How could you?”

  The three females could no longer suppress their mirth and quickly had the gentleman chuckling as well. Romulus and Remus looked up but saw all was well and rested heads on front paws, exhaled huge sighs of boredom or contentment, and dozed. When the puppy, Balthasar, was unsuccessful in persuading the adult dogs to frolic, he then explored the large room by investigating every nook and cranny.

  “Fitzwilliam, my handsome barbarian, there is another component to that gift. Open the watch.”

  “No. I am afraid.”

  “Oh, for goodness sake! Open it.”

  Darcy warily opened the cover of the timepiece and dimples instantaneously bracketed his wide grin. “Lizzy, how beautiful! Who painted this masterpiece?”

  “It is neither beautiful nor a masterpiece. Self-portraits are exceedingly difficult to portray, so you may remove that miniature and replace it with a painting of your horse if you prefer.”

  “Not on your life! The depiction is beautiful, you are beautiful, and the gift is beautiful. Thank you.” He went to her and placed a quick kiss on her brow.

  Elizabeth then gave Anna and Mary the items she had wrapped in embroidered handkerchiefs for them. Her sister-in-law received a miniature of Herr/Fraulein Stewart, the rabbit, and Barb Thorne, the hedgehog; and the lace-trimmed linen was stitched with the initials AD surrounded by butterflies and flowers. Mary’s gift was a hand-painted fan, and her monogrammed handkerchief was sewn with music notes. Those gifts had been lovingly created by Lizzy’s own hand, but she then passed each girl a present purchased in London - a fringed paisley shawl in pastel hues for Anna - and for Mary, sheet music in addition to Sense and Sensibility.

  Next, Anna handed out her gifts, which proved to be a calling card holder for her brother, a small pearl brooch for her new sister, and a beaded reticule for Mary.

  When it was Miss Bennet’s turn, she gave her brother-in-law a pair of riding gloves Lizzy had helped select; and Anna received a selection of bottled, scented waters from Longbourn’s stillroom. As she handed Elizabeth her gift, Mary giggled and said, “Great minds think alike, Lizzy. Merry Christmas.” The others chuckled when Elizabeth unwrapped Sense and Sensibility.

  The four were at ease to spend the remainder of the evening taking turns to read aloud from the ‘lady’s’ story; and Mary said, “Had I written such a superior work of fiction, I would undoubtedly want my name known. I am fond of this lady’s style and hope she pens many more novels in the same vein.” They all agreed the anonymous authoress was, undeniably, exceptionally talented.

  Before they retired, hugs and gratitude were exchanged all around; and Elizabeth Darcy was pleased her artistic efforts had been worthwhile and appreciated. Her philosophy was ’Love, like paint, can make things beautiful when you spread it; but it simply dries up when you do not use it.’

  As they were leaving the drawing room, Anna exclaimed, “Oh, look! Balthasar has left us a present too!” She beckoned a footman to dispose of the offering, but her brother pooh-poohed the suggestion. He was in an especially charitable disposition; and in view of the fact he was going to check on the horses anyway, Darcy simply scooped up the contribution with a section of newspaper and made his way to the stable. Relieved that the puppy was not in deep doo-doo with its new master, Lizzy summoned a maid to scour the stain; and prior to retiring she ensured the boxes of foodstuff and coin were ready to be distributed to the estate’s staff and tenants the following day.

  The three Darcys and Miss Bennet spent the time between Christmas and New Year’s Eve peacefully and in preparation for their open house on December 31st. Elizabeth was surprised to discover a number of her neighbours embraced customs of the Scottish Hogmanay celebration; and the first-footer to cross Northumbrella’s threshold after midnight was the tall, dark-haired Randall Candel. The young man was thrilled to have beaten other revellers to the punch and hoped he would, in reality, be the bringer of good fortune to the household. The Darcys received traditional gifts of coal, whiskey, shortbread, fruitcake, and salt; and, in turn, they provided their guests with an endless supply of food, drink, and revelry. The estate’s festivities carried on well into New Year’s Day, and the merrymakers unabashedly sang Auld Lang Syne until the song was done to a cow’s thumb and the cows came home.

  Northumbrella’s new mistress was very well satisfied with her husband, her home, and her neighbours; and her new family, acquaintances, and servants were very well satisfied with her. Elizabeth’s presents and presence cheered the entire household; and Darcy teased her about having a very merry charisma.

  Mr. and Mrs. Ellis Fleming had not arrived at Eventide Hall, their estate farther north in Derbyshire, for their wedding night. The newlywed couple enjoyed celebrating with family and friends so thoroughly that they departed Pemberley later than planned. Fleming sent a rider ahead to secure lodging at a reputable cozy inn along the way and to notify his estate’s personnel he and their new mistress would arrive the following afternoon instead.

  Finally ensconced in their snug room for the evening, Ellis cuddled with his bride and continued to ask for forgiveness. “I am so sorr
y, Georgie … of all people to lose track of time. I hope you are not having second thoughts concerning me.”

  “Oh husband, I have, indeed, been having second, third, and fourth thoughts of nothing but you for the past … ” Georgiana checked her timepiece and frowned. “ … however many hours since we wed. Now, please stop agonizing and apologizing. Your man did well to secure this room on such short notice. Ellis, these accommodations are charming, we have enjoyed a scrumptious serving of food, there is a roaring fire in the grate, and I would be grateful if you would cease fussing as regards my comfort. To be honest, I am scarcely aware of my surroundings while I am with you.”

  They declared their ardent admiration for one another, kissed passionately, and in due course found their way to the large, inviting bed. Alas, Fleming, the son of a clock-maker, was dissatisfied with the mattress and wanted to complain to the innkeeper. His wife, on the other hand, was not in any discomfort and insisted he stop tucking the ticking and talking. Georgiana had a better conception of how they should expend time on their wedding night, and Ellis could not find fault with her excellent way of thinking.

  The next day, as the sun climbed higher, Georgiana, who was not a morning person, ignored her husband as he shook her shoulder and coaxed her to arise. She groaned at his chipper tone, opened one eye, and was surprised to find Ellis already dressed, bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed. Mrs. Fleming groaned for a second time and pulled the quilt over her head.

  “Georgie, love, it is a glorious morning. Rise and chime, sweetheart. I am eager to take you to Eventide Hall, my family’s age-old estate.” Ellis pulled the coverlet off his wife and was rewarded with a glower. “Come along, my sugar. I have already eaten but will join you for an extra breakfast. Akin to a clock, when I am hungry, I go back four seconds.”

  Georgiana snatched the bedcover away from him. “Ellis, are you always so cheerful in the morning? We did not catch much sleep last night. Are you not tired?”

  “My dear, Mrs. Fleming, I come from a long line of watchmakers. We are used to working around the clock, so I do not require much slumber.” He grappled and tugged the quilt from her grasp. “Ah, Georgie?”

  “Yes, Ellis?”

  “Last night … ,” He smirked as he realized why his wife was so sleepy. “Was I imagining it, or did you, in the throes of passion, refer to me as a handsome barbarian?”

  “You were imagining it.” Mrs. Fleming’s face was flushed as she dove under the covers again.

  As with nearly all newlywed couples, Ellis and Georgiana did, after some time, adjust to one another’s routine. Within a year, however, they had to adjust to their daughter’s routine. Although they were both tickled pink over the birth of their first healthy child, the new mother wondered why people spoke of sleeping like a baby. Ella Helene Fleming, their adorable infant, insisted on waking every two hours, like clockwork.

  Afterword

  In the Darcy Family Way

  In the sumptuous master bedchamber of Northumbrella, Fitzwilliam Darcy lounged abed while his wife of two months stood nearby at her easel and observed him.

  “May I ask to what this scrutiny tends, Elizabeth?”

  “Merely to the illustration of your physique,” said she easily. “I am trying to capture it.”

  “And what is your success?”

  She shook her head. “I do not get on at all. My subject is far too distracting.”

  “I wish, Lizzy, you would not sketch my anatomy at the present moment, as there is reason to fear the performance would reflect no credit on either of us.”

  “But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity.”

  “As my wife, I assure you there will be ample opportunities for you to see me thusly; but I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours. Come here,” he warmly invited; and Lizzy put her paints away and climbed back into bed.

  Several mornings afterward, Fitzwilliam Darcy, in a midnight-blue silk dressing robe, stood before the easel that held the canvas his wife had completed the previous evening. “Well, this is unquestionably one painting which will not be placed in the gallery at Pemberley.”

  “I am offended, husband. I rather thought it should look well hung next to that of your great uncle, the judge.”

  “I cannot judge … is this a very striking resemblance of my form, Lizzy?”

  “Do you not think I did it justice, darling?”

  “How near it may be, I cannot pretend to say. You think it is a faithful portrait undoubtedly.”

  “I must not decide on my own performance, Fitzwilliam. But, if you will come back to bed, I may offer many compliments on yours,” she warmly invited. The effect was immediate, and a deeper shade of colour overspread his features; Darcy said not a word, cast aside his robe, and climbed in alongside her.

  During the third year of his marriage to Georgiana, following the birth of their second daughter, Leanne Georgina Fleming, Ellis worked diligently to write the first book on the production of watches and clocks; and when it was finally published, everyone thought it was about time. The opening sentence was, ’Contrary to popular belief, people who work in watch factories do not stand around all day making faces’.

  While doing research for his publication, Ellis Fleming came across the following anecdote. The Tates Watch Company of Massachusetts, America, wanted to manufacture other products; and since they already made the cases for pocket watches, they decided to market compasses for the settlers traveling westward. Although their timepieces were of the finest quality, the company’s compasses were so faulty pioneers often ended up in Canada or Mexico rather than California. This, of course, was the origin of the expression, ‘He who has a Tates is lost.’

  Darcy Ellis Fleming was born in the fourth year of their marriage. Darcy was a happy babe and continued to be good-natured, albeit very active, as he grew into boyhood. In the mornings Georgiana and Ellis watched their son rise; in the afternoons they watched their son shine; and after their son was set for the night, they could finally rest.

  Fitzwilliam Darcy entered Northumbrella’s west-facing sitting room as the mid-afternoon sun slanted in through tall windows and cast its meagre light on his lovely wife. To him it seemed Elizabeth radiated a warmer glow than that late-February sun. He stood behind her chair, placed his hands gently on her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head. “What manner of project are you working on so industriously there, Mrs. Darcy?”

  She bent her head back to look up at his handsome face as he leaned over her. “It is a beaded macramé item for the child of someone I love very dearly. Would you care to lend a hand?” Elizabeth passed him a ball of cream-coloured yarn and demonstrated the particular knots she was using.

  Darcy took a seat across from her and smirked as he tossed the ball from one hand to the other. “You are exceptionally skilled at macramé, Lizzy. I very much enjoy engaging in the knotty thing with you and look forward to filling our own home with the fruits of our labour produced by such joint efforts.”

  “I am not entirely naïve, you know, sir.” Elizabeth said primly. “Therefore, I do not, for a moment, believe you are speaking of creating knotty macramé projects at all but are just being plain naughty. As such, any labour of love involved will be mine alone; and our first creation should, in fact, be produced, or should I say reproduced, in about six and a half months.”

  Darcy instantly dropped his smirk along with the ball of yarn. He gaped in wonder at the incredible woman who had been his wife for a mere two and a half months. Elizabeth giggled at the shocked expression on her beloved husband’s face and tossed another ball of yarn at him to bring the poor fellow out of his stupor. It bounced off his forehead, and she said, “Well, that was quite a pregnant pause, Fitzwilliam. Is this all the reply I am to have the honour of expecting? Have you nothing to say?”

  Darcy’s astonishment was beyond expression. He stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. Finally he gulped and stuttered, “Are you … are you … spinning anoth
er yarn, Lizzy? Your mother once told me she does not believe everything your father says, and she also informed me you take after him. Truthfully, are you … are you … ?”

  “Spinning another yarn in the Bennet family way?”

  “Elizabeth!”

  “Darling, I shall not tease you any longer over such an important issue since you are expecting an answer. Prolonging your anticipation would just be breeding contempt. Hmm, I wonder whether our excellent cook has finished baking rolls, or if there might still be a bun in the oven.”

  “Elizabeth!!!”

  It was already established Mr. and Mrs. George Wickham did not produce offspring; and their relationship was certainly unequal to the grand passions of the Darcys, the Fitzwilliams, the Flemings, or even Mr. and Mrs. Charles Bingley. Caroline and her wickedly handsome husband got along tolerably well; and Wickham was kept under the watchful eye of his godfather and namesake, George Darcy.

  Upon the demise of the elderly Mr. and Mrs. Bartlett Piers, who both succumbed to a virulent influenza, their only male relative, Charles Bingley, inherited their Staffordshire estate. So Charles and Anne sold their London townhouse and settled within a three-quarter-hour ride to Pemberley. George Wickham then also had to contend with and answer to his wife’s brother, which was a rather awkward situation since the two young men had been friends for some years. The Bingley brother and sister, whose family had made their fortune in footwear, often made George feel like a heel; and it is a known fact that time wounds all heels. For her part, Caroline realized she was fortunate not to have fallen on hard tines after having fallen for a rake. She was content to say she lived at Pemberley, and Caroline always accompanied her husband when he had business at the grand house. Mrs. Wickham enjoyed walking the grounds, and she particularly liked to spend time in the orangery.