Her brows rose dramatically at noting the book, but she said nothing. “Uncle and I were talking,” William says with dry understatement, meeting Elizabeth's glittering gaze candidly. The humorous lilt to her lovely lips was telling though, and I swear the two exchanged a full conversation without uttering a word. Marvelous!
August 7
Pemberley
Seems as if I barely arrived and now I am leaving! Not sure what came over me yesterday, but tomorrow most of us are departing, except for William and Elizabeth, who will be touring the southern Midlands. And, if I know my nephew even slightly, most likely purchasing anything remotely infant related within a fifty-mile radius.
I feel the itch to travel, but not with the same vagrancy typical of me. No, Jharna, it is not my usual restlessness. Quite the opposite, in fact. These past weeks have been so marvelous, and being at Pemberley has filled my soul with a peace I honestly have not felt in decades, even with you, my devoted lover. It is home. Perhaps I am sensing my mortality creeping up on me, not that I plan on departing this earth anytime soon. Fifty-three is far from old, I declare with shaking fist to the heavens! No, it is still this blasted sentimentality that has invaded my person. Ga!
The simple truth is that I feel the complete opposite of restless. What would that be? Calm, abeyant, satisfied? All of the above, I suppose. So, I want to take advantage of the fine weather and visit a few more old friends in London and the surrounds, and then visit Estella. All of this traveling and imposing on other's hospitality is welcomed with great anticipation, yet also because I want to be done with it and return to Pemberley before the winter and Baby Darcy is born. I planted the seed yesterday, both William and Elizabeth surprised by my hint. I do hope they take this separation to get used to the idea because I will deliver their child if I have to apply my brutal strength to the task and physically evict the midwife from the room! Of course, they adore me so I do not think that will be necessary. Yes, Jharna, smug as always.
Additionally, the lovers need some time alone. I swear those two are as transparent as glass. I know a gentleman should not entertain musings of another's sexual relationship, but it is nearly impossible not to do so around them! Poor Georgiana. Good thing she is used to being on her own because I seriously doubt she sees any more of her brother now then she did before! Be that as it may, they are rather cute together—awful word but it is apropos in this case—so I am casting no negative judgments. Warms the heart, actually, which is another reason I need to depart for awhile: I am becoming far too maudlin with all this romance in the air. Time for the Colonel and me to remember we are bachelors, loose and unencumbered!
Raja, I am coming to accept with equanimity and happiness, shall likely not be counted amongst the unattached for very much longer. As I have written, the affection, nay Love… call it what it is, George… is genuine between him and Miss Anne. His plan, he tells me now, is to work his charm on Lady C. I advised him just to tell her he is royalty and that will be that; but he is far too noble, wants to earn her approval on his own merits, gain respect, etc. I just laughed, slapped him on the back, and wished him well in the endeavor. So first I absolutely have to tarry in Kent as I would not miss this for the world!
Malcolm and Madeline are off to tour through Wales, taking Georgiana with them. Leaves the newlyweds utterly alone, which I know pleases them. They intend to take a small jaunt through the lower Midlands, William told me. He wants his wife to be familiar with her new shire. Plus I think they plan to purchase baby essentials. I thought it odd they did not denude London of every last diapering cloth or bonnet. Apparently they have chosen to strip Derby bare instead! First, however, he asks me seriously if I felt a woman in her fifth month should travel. I assured him that pregnant women are truly not all that fragile, especially with husbands who dote and fret so ridiculously. He was not particularly amused, but reassured. Besides, what can possible go wrong in my beautiful and peaceful agricultural county?
Anyway, I am off to Kent and then Darcy House for a spell before Devon. No agendas! Absolutely not! Allow the wind to carry me wherever it sees fit. Perhaps no longer restless per se, but definitely insouciant and aimless!
Chapter One
Correspondence
The sun had long since set. The full moon cast a pale bluish glow over the carpet and furnishings near the widely open windows of the Darcys' spacious private sitting room. It was far too warm on this late August evening to have a fire lit, but several oil lamps and candles illuminated the area near the empty fireplace. Darcy, as always, refused to grope in darkness or strain his or his wife's eyes while they read.
They reclined on the chaise, Lizzy nestled between her husband's legs with her back pressed into his bare chest. Peaceful silence surrounded them as they attended to the stack of correspondence that had accumulated during their journey south. Darcy, especially, was still working his way through the pile that seemed to grow rather than diminish as business-related items were continually added to the top.
Tonight he eschewed any business letters, choosing to read a lengthy missive from his sister while absently toying with a lock of his wife's hair. Lizzy smiled and lightly stroked her husband's cloth-covered thigh as she read a letter from her sister Jane that had arrived that day.
My Dearest Lizzy,
My heart nearly stopped as you related your trauma with the bandits! Oh, dearest sister, how absolutely awful an experience! I am trembling yet at the horror of it and the thankfulness in your recovery. How proud of Mr. Darcy you must be! Charles was not at all surprised. I recall him telling me once that Mr. Darcy was an excellent marksman. Of course I am quite certain he never anticipated his dear friend utilizing his skills so. Has Papa written you? Undoubtedly he shall relate the episode in an amusing manner, but Mama was quite taken by your mishap. Her nervous attack was of stupendous proportions. She has been abed for two days, despite your and Mr. Darcy's assurances that all was well. Papa retreated to his library as usual, appearing only to halt the mournful letter she had penned to you! Therefore you shall necessarily be required to affect commiseration when next you write to Mama.
Thank you for relating your excursion abroad the Derbyshire countryside. What a marvelous idea! I must share this tidbit of humor: Charles was reading Mr. Darcy's letter as I was reading yours when suddenly he snorted in disgust. I inquired as to his concern and he recalled Mr. Darcy boring him nearly to death while in France with the endless tours of old castles and ruins. I chuckled so, dear Lizzy, as your letter expressed such joy over the adventures! Of course, I can empathize with my husband as such diversions are not appealing to me; however, I am cognizant of how you adore them, so was thrilled you two embarked on the endeavor.
If you have received a letter from Papa, then you know he accepted the news of Charles and me relocating with serenity. I know he is saddened, and perhaps he has communicated his distress to you; nonetheless, he understands and has given us his blessing. Mama, shockingly, was in hysterics. Oh Lizzy, it was awful! She wailed and moaned, lamenting how all her daughters have deserted her and she would never be able to kiss her grandchildren. Poor Charles was frantic. Papa took her in hand, but it was terrible. I must confess, as horrendous as your crisis, it did succeed in deflecting Mama's anxiety from me! Hopefully for both our sakes, Mary will proffer a blessed announcement forthwith to further avert Mama's absorption and cheer her spirits.
As for Charles and me, we are proceeding as planned. I do believe Charles would have packed up and departed within the week, but I have given him pause. It is a difficult move for me, Lizzy dear. You know that change is not embraced as easily by me as you. While we were yet in Derbyshire, my enthusiasm was as profound as Charles's. Now that I am home, Hertfordshire continually draws me in with all her lures and homey comforts. Yet oddly I find that with each passing day the sense of belonging, especially at Netherfield, ebbs. Charles speaks of Hasberry daily, and I am beginning to long for the charms of the house. Mostly, of course, my heart yearns to pl
ease my husband. I am so proud of his spirit and zeal as well as the serious maturity he displays in regard to this new undertaking.
Caroline has returned to London, abiding with the Hursts for the present, although I do believe she plans to holiday in Essex with a friend next month. As you and I were discussing, Caroline continues to puzzle me. Over time the worst of her disdain for me has vanished and she actually appears pleased for Charles and me in our obvious felicity. However, try as I might, we cannot establish a sisterly relationship or a particularly friendly one. I know you shrug her attitude away, Lizzy, believing me silly for fretting so, yet I persist in wishing it otherwise. The oddest part is how her personality vacillates. She spoke of her trip to Essex with a queer expression. She almost appeared dreamy and her eyes softened. Then it was as if she caught herself and rapidly followed with a snippy comment about the dreariness of Meryton. I do wish I could laugh at her as you do. Oh well, she is gone now and peace reigns.
Lizzy, I am pleased that your pregnancy progresses without complications. The nursery as you describe it sounds beautiful. Who would have thought to have clouds painted on a blue ceiling and a pastel landscape over one wall? I confess I have difficulty envisioning the scene. How ingenious of the decorator to suggest such a masterpiece! You did not, however, mention horses grazing upon the painted grasses. Charles and I immediately noted the omission and mutually decided it was an oversight on your part as assuredly Mr. Darcy would insist on horses! I am pleased to hear of the cuckoo clock finding a home where your child will grow amid the sweet music as we all did. I believe I shall have to hint of the same when the time comes for Charles and me. The lace curtains are a perfect touch. You amaze me, dearest sister, in your sudden embracing of domesticity. Knitting and sewing! Astounding! The needlepoint pillows and pictures I can comprehend, as you have ever adored embroidery, but making your own curtains? I truly must see it with mine own eyes to fully believe. I told Mama, but she thought me jesting. Perhaps the concept of babies brings out one's creativity as Caroline did complete the quilt. I must say, it is a skillfully wrought item and beautiful. You will love it.
Charles has finished his missive to Mr. Darcy, so I shall close for now. You absolutely cannot tell Mama or Papa, but I am so very thrilled that we shall be close, Lizzy. I miss you so very much and want our children to grow dear to each other. Before I finish I must thank you for your timely advice at our last private chat. You were right in all aspects and the results are as you presupposed. We truly are the most fortunate of women in our marriages, are we not, dear sister? If only all could be so blessed. Imagine how wonderful the world would then be? I love you, Lizzy, and yearn for your companionship. Take care on your journey to the seacoast.
Always,
Your Jane
Lizzy was smiling broadly and chuckling as she refolded Jane's correspondence. “What does your sister have to say which so amused you, beloved?” Darcy asked, his voice rumbling over Lizzy's back.
“Have you read the letter from Charles yet?” she asked, turning her head to peer up into Darcy's face as he shook his head negative. “Apparently he related with disgust the reminiscences of your journey to France. You were not exaggerating as to his feelings on museums and ruins.”
Darcy chuckled. “I could almost generate some pity if it were not for his avengement.”
“You never did tell me the story of your waltz experiences.”
“I suppose I can now see humor in the situation. Knowing the dance has benefited me most delightfully in the present, thus easing the painful memory.” He paused to stroke her cheek and lean forward for a tasty kiss.
“You were saying?” Lizzy interrupted in a throaty whisper.
“I was saying?” he repeated, brushing her lips with insistence, but she withdrew with a giggle.
“About the waltz, William. You were going to tell me the story.”
He sighed theatrically. “Very well then, but do not forget where we were, my lover.” She solemnly nodded, eyes twinkling. “As I told you, I first danced the waltz in Vienna. When I was twenty-five, I traveled to Austria to visit my Aunt Mary. The waltz is quite popular there, and before I hardly knew what was happening, my cousins were grasping my hands and propelling me onto the floor of their music room. You need not imagine anything untoward, love. They are all quite older than me and married.” Lizzy harrumphed and Darcy grinned.
He resumed, “They considered it a hideous lapse in my education to only know the stilted dances of the English. The Austrians are looser and prefer lively, intimate dances such as the tarantella, lavolta, courante, and galliard. I shall confess that I actually enjoyed myself and, risking the label of arrogant, I learned quickly and was quite excellent! As you now are aware, I do find dancing pleasant, provided I am familiar and comfortable with my partner.” He kissed her nose, stroking along her neck. “In Vienna I reluctantly was induced to dance a few times at the balls we attended, although I refused other than my aunt or cousins. They thought that was hysterical and teased me mercilessly.”
Lizzy laughed. “Ah, the poor broken hearts extend all across Europe. Those woeful Austrian ladies with their sad faces moping despondently about the ballroom.”
Darcy reddened but snorted. “Unlikely, Elizabeth.” Lizzy smiled, again amused at how innocent and obtuse he was in regards to his attributes and allure. “Anyway, two years later Bingley and I were in Paris at a soiree hosted by the Comte and Comtesse Petain. I did not wish to attend, not surprisingly, but Bingley adores such entertainments and despite his allusions to the contrary, I was perceptive to his annoyance and remorseful for dragging him along on my adventures. During dinner the conversation turned to the ball and the anticipation for the waltz. Bingley, sweet, seemingly scrupulous Bingley, manipulated the topic masterfully. Within minutes the entire table accounted me a veritable waltz virtuoso, and I was slated to dance with five ladies, three of whom were the Comte's excessively homely daughters!”
Lizzy was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. Darcy shuddered in memory but then laughed as well. “He completely blindsided me. I do confess it was rather inspired maneuvering, and his goal of humiliating me worked brilliantly.”
“Did you trip or forget the steps?”
“Very amusing, Mrs. Darcy. No, I did not. I was graceful and flawless.” He grinned. “So elegant and debonair that I believe it is fortunate we departed the next day as I may have caused the entire assemblage to fall madly in love with me.”
He meant to elicit further laughter, but she smiled into his eyes instead and caressed his cheek. “Yes, I am sure they did. A host of broken hearts once again.” She pulled him down for a deep kiss, Darcy happily complying. The spell was broken when he reached to embrace her waist and Georgiana's letter, still clutched in his left hand, crumpled against the swell of her belly.
“Oh dear!” he exclaimed, “I should finish this before mutilating it.”
“What does she have to say?”
“You must read it, dearest. Of course, it is addressed to you as well. She is having a marvelous trip. When she dispatched this, they were at Aunt Madeline's brother's home in Rhayader. I believe they have probably moved on from there to Aberystwyth by now, but she says the mansion is enormous with all sorts of secret passageways, unused wings, a bell tower, and supposedly a ghost from the twelfth century. Listen: 'Suzette,'—one of the cousins—'declares with firm belief that the ghost is a woman who died from a suspicious fall from the bell tower. She swears, brother, that she has seen her gliding about the north wing with flowing robes of white and a sad face. I asked why all ghosts are required to wear white. Is it a metaphysical law of some sort? Suzette did not find my cheekiness amusing. Needless to say, I have not seen this ghost, although despite my skepticism, I do not intend to wander the empty corridors in the dead of night—this being, naturally, according to those laws previously mentioned, the only time the ghost will appear!'”
Chuckling, Darcy paused. Lizzy read ahead to the following paragraph,
asking, “Who is this Lord Gruffudd that she mentions horseback riding with?”
Darcy frowned. “A Welshman who lives in the vicinity and is obviously close friends with Mr. Dawes, Madeline's brother. That is the fourth time she has noted his presence involved in some activity partaken. Why would she remark about an old neighbor?”
“Perhaps he is not old. You came into your inheritance young, as do others sadly. Maybe she is smitten. Did you read this? 'Lord Gruffudd is nearly as excellent a rider as you, dear brother. You always told me that a person born in the saddle is instantly recognized. Lord Gruffudd has such a demeanor. It was an entertaining ride about the moor with all in high spirits despite the drizzling mist as Lord Gruffudd's wit and humor is enlivening.' Sounds like a wee crush to me!”
Lizzy giggled, glancing to Darcy. Her laughter froze at the thunderous expression on his face. His eyes skimmed over the remaining two pages, counting Lord Gruffudd's name five more times ere her best wishes and signature. Lizzy opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but the words failed when Darcy abruptly launched from the chaise as if sprung. Her jaw clamped shut from the sudden jolt as she fell into the space vacated by his absent body, sprawled into a bizarre angle.
My Dearest Mr. Darcy: An Amazing Journey into Love Everlasting tds-3 Page 4