“I am… speechless,” he stammered. He looked at Elizabeth. “Did you plan this? How did you know?”
“Yes I did, with some help obviously, and it was Georgiana who told me,” she replied. “Are you pleased?”
“Yes! Yes, I am!” He enfolded her with sturdy arms and kissed tenderly. Jane and Bingley swiftly turned into the room, letting them have a moment without prying eyes.
“I was afraid you were hurt, thinking I did not care when your birthday was,” Lizzy whispered with a hint of anxiety in her voice.
Darcy kissed her again, stroking over one cheek with feathering fingertips. “Not at all, dearest Elizabeth. My birthday has passed mostly unnoticed for years now. Georgiana always remembers, as does Mrs. Reynolds. Some years I have completely forgotten it myself until they remind me! I will receive a small gift from my sister and my favorite meal for dinner, but that is all. I have not had a celebration of any significance since I was a child. This is so unexpected!”
Lizzy glowed with pleasure. “Well, then, let the festivities begin! After you, Mr. Darcy.”
Luncheon was served first. They were all in high spirits so laughter abounded. After the meal was finished and the servants had cleared the table, a tea service was brought in, but the aroma was definitely not that of tea. It was warm cocoa, a favorite treat of Darcy's. Snow had begun to fall outside, but the room was cozy and the occupants were relaxed.
“So, explain the cake,” Darcy asked. “I have never heard of a candle on a cake before.”
Bingley spoke up, “Lizzy read of a German tradition of placing a single candle, a ‘Light of Life’ was it, Lizzy?”
“Yes. The idea is that the candle symbolizes the life of the person being celebrated. It must stay lit all day and be blown out, by you, at dusk. You can make a wish before you blow it out and it will be granted.”
Darcy smiled. “I am not one to lend credence to silly superstitions, but this seems harmless fun, so I shall play along. It certainly is pretty.”
They spent the afternoon playing several parlor games, charades first. Lizzy and Darcy paired up against Jane and Bingley. They were all astounded to discover that Darcy had a flair for the dramatic and was an exceptional player. Lizzy read his expressions readily now so could guess what he was acting out in short order, and they easily won the most rounds. Next they played Twenty Questions. Lizzy had asked Mr. Bennet, a neutral party, to come up with topics for both games, and he had thoroughly enjoyed conjuring up the oddest things. More than once they were stumped. In the end, Jane and Bingley proved the victors. Lastly, they played blind man's bluff. Darcy always seemed to know exactly where Lizzy was, but she was agile and quick so could easily elude him. Bingley actually proved to be the best player. He had an uncanny ability to outthink another's movements and would catch them every time. Needless to say, whenever a fiancée was caught, a pause would be necessary for a brief interlude of nuzzling and kisses, but no one minded.
Dinner was served late in the evening with the four famished after their activities. Georgiana, upon request, had provided a list of Darcy's favorite foods. Lizzy joked that it was fortunate she had asked Georgiana's advice since she was contemplating serving mutton. Darcy winced and they all laughed. He detested mutton.
After dinner it was time for presents. The table was taken away and a couple of sofas were brought forth. Lizzy sat next to Darcy on one sofa with Jane and Charles on the other. Georgiana had sent her gift: a new riding crop. Charles gave him a pocket watch and Jane a set of handkerchiefs, which she had embroidered with his initials. Darcy was touched that his soon-to-be sister would go to so much trouble for him and he told her so. Jane blushed.
Lizzy handed him her present, wrapped with silk and a blue ribbon the color of his eyes. Darcy opened it gradually, theatrically adding to the tension. Inside was a book: Paradise Lost by John Milton.
“It is the first edition volume,” Lizzy said. “You said you had been searching for that one.”
Darcy was stunned. “Elizabeth, I cannot believe you remember that! I said it in passing when you were at Pemberley, when I showed you the library.”
“I vividly remember every moment and every word of that day,” she said softly, touching his cheek gently with her fingertips. Neither of them noticed that Jane and Bingley arose and crept silently from the room.
He captured her hand and kissed it, then leaned over and kissed her lips. “You are amazing,” he breathed. “I love you so, my Elizabeth. How did you ever find it?”
She laughed. “My father has connections. He is forever adding old books to his collection. He is acquainted with a man at Oxford who specializes in finding unusual volumes. He had three Milton first editions! Open it, there is more.”
Darcy was unsure if his heart could take any more, but he complied. Inside was a bookmark of fine silk with a quilted backing. Lizzy had embroidered in her delicate hand a verse from Genesis: “The two shall become one flesh.” Below were two hearts intertwined with Elizabeth in one and Fitzwilliam in the other.
To say that Darcy was overwhelmed would be a gross understatement. Tears welled up in his eyes and he could not speak. He gathered Lizzy into a tight embrace and simply held her, hoping that his wildly beating heart would express his thankfulness. He finally withdrew, gazing into her eyes with bottomless devotion, and then kissed her with reckless abandon. His soul was fiercely touched. She responded in kind, fingers instantly rising to caress the flesh above his cravat and lace into thick hair as their kiss deepened to a dangerous level. Neither of them wanted to stop, and it took a monumental act of strength to do so.
Darcy cupped her face with both large hands, eyes closed and forehead resting on hers as he attempted to regulate his erratic breathing. “God, Elizabeth! How I want you! How desperately I love you!”
“Two weeks,” she murmured, “just two more weeks, my heart.”
He chuckled harshly and opened his eyes to see her glorious face so near his own. “It feels like an eternity.” He met her lips in a tender, controlled kiss. “Elizabeth, my precious love, this has been the very best birthday of my entire life. How can I ever thank you?”
She smiled naughtily. “Well, my birthday will be here in six months. You can start planning now!” They both laughed and the jocularity lightened the mood. After another brief kiss, they recalled Jane and Charles, who had managed to take advantage of their alone time in like pursuits.
More hot cocoa was served, and then it was time to blow out the candle and have some cake. Darcy made his silent wish, glowing eyes locked with his fiancée's, and cut the cake, performing the honored task of serving the others. All too soon it was time to return the ladies to Longbourn.
Some weeks after, Lizzy and Darcy were in their bed at Pemberley lying in each other's arms. They were in the satisfied haze of post lovemaking, Lizzy gently caressing his chest while Darcy played with her hair. Out of the blue Lizzy spoke. “William? What was your wish when you blew out your birthday candle?”
“I wished that I would forever be as happy as I was at that moment.”
“Has your wish come true, then?”
“No.”
She rose up on her elbow to see his face. “No? Are you not happy?”
He smiled at her troubled face and caressed her cheek. “I wished to be as happy as I was at that moment. Fool that I was, I had no concept of the greater happiness in store for me.” He pulled her face to his but paused just before kissing her, whispering softly, “The ecstasy I feel for you now, my heart, is beyond mere happiness.”
He would proceed to show her precisely what he meant, then and every day for the rest of his long life. Never would he forget his twenty-ninth birthday even though Elizabeth made a point of having a special celebration each year thereafter, and the plotting wheels had begun turning for her birthday some six months yet away.
Chapter Eight
Happy Birthday, Mrs. Darcy
Now it was the day he had been, on some level, planning for ever si
nce. May 28, 1817, marked the day that Elizabeth Darcy turned two and twenty. By a merry, inadvertent twist of fate, it also was the sixth month anniversary of her marriage to Fitzwilliam Darcy. Neither fact was lost on her husband. In all honesty, it would be a stretch to say he had been plotting birthday events for his beloved wife since she had so delightfully surprised him on his birthday in November, but he most assuredly had devoted a tremendous amount of time and effort in the hopes of this day being one of the best in her life.
Of course all days, no matter the celebrations devised, usually commence with little or no fanfare. Such was the case today. Darcy woke shortly after dawn, nothing atypical in that fact, the filtered sunrise and muted street sounds drifting through the curtained glass windows. Lizzy slept curled on her side in his arms, their fingers entwined under the pillow, thick hair cascading randomly over their tightly pressed together bodies. Darcy's free hand cupped one perfect breast, and again not atypical, he was profoundly aroused.
He shifted somewhat to relieve the mild discomfort, kissed her head, and closed his eyes. Darcy was rarely able to return to sleep, but he did adore these quiet interludes of simply embracing his wife. He lay in extreme contentment while mentally reexamining the day's plans for any possible missteps.
After six blissful months of waking with his adorable wife, Darcy had subconsciously learned the subtle signs of her rousing. The mild change in the cadence of her respirations, the tiny twitches in her muscles, the minute movements to lips and eyelids, and how she instinctively pressed harder into his body and clutched his fingers. How they lay enmeshed in their sleep varied from night to night, but always they reached for the other even further as they roused. So it was that some forty-five minutes after initially opening his eyes, he sensed her stirring. Unable to contain his need any longer, he gently commenced fondling her beautiful bosom while tenderly planting kisses along her neck.
She sighed, smiling sleepily. “Happy birthday, my beloved wife,” he whispered while kissing her ear. “Are you feeling well?”
“Hmmmm, quite well.”
“Well enough for me, my lover?” He waited no longer, beginning the familiar process of loving his wife. Not even bothering to shift positions, he joined blissfully with his wife as they lay with her luscious curves pressed tightly into his chest. Groaning hoarsely in transcendent pleasure he murmured, “Oh, my adorable wife, how I love you! Your first present for the day shall be your devoted husband bringing you pleasures abounding.”
Lizzy immediately reciprocated with a throaty groan, her free arm reaching to lace her fingers through his hair as she arched in intense yearning.
“Fitzwilliam, you feel so amazing. God, how I love you!”
He threw the blanket off, thrilling further at the sight of their bodies joined and swaying together. Burying his face into her fragrant locks, he moaned her name. Oh, to wake and make love with his wife! It was divine.
“Lizzy, I have so ached to love you this way! I have missed our mornings.”
They loved each other slowly, delighting in giving in this amazingly special way. Afterwards, they breathlessly held each other, slowly gathering shattered wits enough to caress lovingly as they recovered. Darcy rubbed her flat belly and tenderly kissed behind her ear.
“Are you well, Elizabeth? Nauseated at all?”
She turned slightly to better see his face and clasped the hand adoringly resting on her abdomen. “I feel marvelous, my love,” she declared with a smile. “Perhaps the worst is passing. The book and the physician said the middle months are the easiest. I am yet a few weeks from that point, but maybe close enough.” She kissed his chin, the only part she could readily access.
“I am relieved. I selfishly wanted you so strongly this morning that I do not think I could have held back.”
Lizzy laughed. “There is absolutely nothing selfish in how you love me, William! Although I rather do think if I had lunged to the water closet you would have had little choice but to wait.”
He chuckled. “Yes, I suppose this is true.” He smoothed the hair from her face, tenderly caressing her features, then returning to her belly. “When will we feel our baby move?”
“Some weeks yet, I am afraid. At times I imagine there are flutters, but I know it is simply my desire to feel something tangible. It is frustrating to only have negative effects.” She eyed him saucily. “I do believe you, my lover, have delighted in one aspect of my pregnancy symptoms.” He arched a brow in question and she answered by transferring his hand to her notably fuller bosom.
He flushed and she laughed. “Nonsense, Elizabeth. I love your body as it has always been.”
“Of course you do, beloved, this is abundantly obvious!” she interrupted, still giggling, “However, if I can confess to rather enjoying being lushly endowed for the first time in my life, even if it is temporary, then you might as well honestly reap the benefits!” She turned in his arms, hugging tightly and kissing him fully. “So, any hints as to what my special day holds? Or must I remain in suspense?”
Darcy smiled. “Is not the dictionary definition of ‘surprise’ to be unexpected and cause sudden wonder? If I tell you what is to transpire, then the desired consequence is nullified. However, having already embarked on the proscribed day's agenda, the first listed event having blissfully been checked off, I deem I can move on to number two.” He kissed her, taking his time, then spoke, “Stay here. I shall return momentarily.”
He disappeared into his dressing room. Lizzy stretched, honestly feeling better than she had in weeks. Just to be sure, she rang for Marguerite, who appeared within minutes, and asked for her usual tray of tea and toast. Darcy reentered the room as Marguerite was exiting, carrying a large, wrapped box.
“Are you beginning to feel unwell, Elizabeth?”
“Not at all, but I did not want to take any chances. What do you have there, Mr. Darcy?” She sat up, Darcy assisting her to a position of comfort, pillows plumped behind to recline onto.
He sat next to her, the present nearby, and took her hands. Lizzy giggled. “I sense a well-prepared birthday speech forthcoming.”
Darcy raised a brow, pretending to be offended although a small smile danced about his lips. “As you are my captive today, Mrs. Darcy, you have no option but to endure any speeches I decide to give. Considering how well my contrived speeches are delivered and received, this should not be a cause of dismay on your part.”
Lizzy laughed and Darcy's smile broadened. Neither of them needed to voice it, but there was a joy to having attained a level of peace in their relationship where they could tease about the past. Dramatically he cleared his throat, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply while Lizzy bit her lip to prevent further giggles escaping.
“Seriously, Elizabeth, as I was contemplating your day of birth, it occurred to me that there have been twenty-one previous birthdays which I have missed. Naturally, this is normal, and pondering the fact that you were reportedly a rambunctious, unruly, and undoubtedly malodorous child, I am actually grateful at not having known you for many of those years.” He grinned.
Lizzy harrumphed. “Well, there is the pot calling the kettle black!”
“That is beside the point. In truth, I do wish I could have seen you as a youth; however, I must content myself with living vicariously through your tales and the antics of our children, whom we have previously ascertained are likely doomed to be recalcitrant and rowdy. As for the here and now, today marks the day you came into this world, my beloved wife, and I am profoundly grateful for the fact. If your mother were present, I would feel obligated to bestow a heartfelt kiss of thanks… stop making faces, Elizabeth,” he teased. “I am aware that there will be a multitude of calendar days for us to celebrate as the years unfold, yet for me this particular day is extraordinary.”
He paused to caress her face. “My only true regret is that I was such a fool and spoiled the opportunity to celebrate your twenty-first birthday with you.”
“William,” she whispered, leaning
forward to kiss him, “do not think on it.” A knock at the door interrupted any further displays of affection, Marguerite entering with a tray for her Mistress. Darcy requested breakfast in their sitting room in one hour and then poured a cup of tea for his wife.
“As I was saying,” he eventually resumed, “in honor of this day and all the prior birthdays I have been so unfortunate to evade, you will receive a gift for each year including one other to venerate our six months of blissful matrimony. Here is the first.” He placed the enormous box in her lap.
Elizabeth's mouth had fallen open and, for one of the few times in her life, she was speechless. Twenty-three presents! It was unfathomable, yet so utterly like Darcy. She sat stunned while he gazed at her expectantly.
Finally, he began to chuckle lowly. “After all this time I have accomplished the goal of rendering Elizabeth Darcy mute. What a day of remembrance this shall be!” He assumed a faraway expression of joyous delight until she shoved him gently with a laugh.
“You tease!” she accused. “William, you spoil me far too much, as I have stated many times before.”
He moved closer and fingered several locks of her hair where it tumbled over the pillows. “As I have stated, Mrs. Darcy, I will neither apologize for nor cease spoiling. Open it.”
Her first gift for the day was a complete ensemble: a lightweight, airy gown in pale green sprigged muslin with tiny white embroidered flower motifs scattered over the lower half of the skirt, a wide sash in darker green, short capped sleeves, and a scooped neckline with interlaced narrow green ribbon along the edge; a petticoat, also in muslin; short satin gloves with pearl buttons; a bonnet with matching pale green ribbons and soft goose down feathers; a reticule of the same fabric, with variable-colored green beads sewn in a pattern of waves; and lastly, a pair of half boots in white kid.
“Oh, William! It is lovely, all of it! Thank you!” She hugged him tightly, clearly overwhelmed.
Loving Mr. Darcy: Journeys Beyond Pemberley tds-2 Page 11