Lizzy laughed gaily. “Colonel! You tease as well as color the truth. I said that Mr. Darcy refused to dance, not that he danced poorly. He quite proved his skill at the Netherfield Ball, dancing with the grace of a gazelle.”
“Grace of a gazelle? High praise, indeed. Is this true, Fitzwilliam?” Lord Matlock grinned at his nephew’s discomfiture.
Darcy coughed, color high but face alit with humor as he gazed upon his impish fiancée, “Miss Bennet is being generous, as always. I managed to avoid stepping on her feet or making a total fool of myself, but in my particular case it remains fortunate that dancing skills and engaging repartee are not the only inducements to affection.”
They all smiled and chuckled, even Jonathan. “Quite so,” he offered. “I abhor dancing and socializing more so than you, William, and that is saying something, yet my wife tolerates me. One’s beguilements and personality can be well hidden secrets for only select individuals to divine.”
“I concur, Mr. Fitzwilliam,” Lizzy nodded. “Rather like a fine bottle of aged red wine. The cork must be removed; the wine poured out and allowed to breathe. One must wait patiently for the aroma to rise in the air to captivate those who wish to partake of its delights. The wine warms in the glass as the flavor softens and mellows, exposing its true essence.” She paused, her gaze locked on Darcy’s startled but tender eyes as he focused on her to the exclusion of all others in the room. “Some people are structured so and are abundantly worth the wait,” she finished in a soft whisper.
“Well spoken, Miss Bennet,” Lady Matlock glanced between the two lovers and then shared a pointed look with her husband.
As they were preparing to leave, Lord Matlock took Darcy aside for a private exchange. “I like her, my boy, enormously. There is absolutely no doubt she loves you. Her father is a gentleman and their manners are impeccable.”
“Thank you, sir. Your opinion means a great deal to me.” Darcy smiled slightly, privately thanking Lizzy’s maneuvering to ensure that her father and not her mother had accompanied her.
Lord Matlock peered at his nephew intently. “Nonetheless, what if I do not approve? She is not quite in your class, manners notwithstanding. What if I agree with your Aunt Catherine?”
Darcy returned his gaze with the same intensity. “Sir, I would be grieved, as I am with Lady Catherine’s attitude. However, my choices are just that… mine. Elizabeth is my life. I am nothing without her.”
Lord Matlock nodded, still watching his nephew’s face. “And Pemberley?”
Darcy was silent, thinking how to respond. “I understand what you are asking, sir. All my adult life I have placed Pemberley’s needs before my own.” He paused. “I believe I have been a worthy Master of Pemberley, that I have carried the Darcy name proudly. I searched long and hard for a woman of quality, someone strong and brave, intelligent and wise, empathetic and giving. All the characteristics the Mistress of Pemberley must have. I am not a fool, Uncle. Elizabeth has all this and so much more. I have fallen in love with a woman my equal, if not superior. Yet all of this is inconsequential compared to the fact that she loves me and I her. Her paramount value is in this truth.”
Lord Matlock smiled then, a bright smile. “Your father would be very proud of you, Fitzwilliam, as would your mother. They loved each other, as you know. It is an emotion uncommon in our society. Both of them were better human beings because of it. I do approve of your Miss Bennet. You have my blessing, for what it is worth,” he ended wryly.
Lord and Lady Matlock attended the wedding, as did their two sons. Lady Catherine was not invited, having ignored Darcy’s second attempt at reconciliation. He would make no further gestures. Miss de Bourgh was invited and sent a gift along with her heartfelt blessings. Unfortunately she could not attend without her mother. Darcy’s happiness was so profound that he spared little energy in grief over his aunt. As Lizzy had said, it would eventually resolve itself or it would not. They were one now, and that was all that truly mattered to either of them.
Chapter Eleven
A Surprise for Poor Samuel
“Elizabeth? Wake up, my love.” Darcy sat next to his sleeping wife, gently smoothing her hair as he whispered softly into her ear. “I cannot leave without a farewell.” He kissed behind her ear tenderly. “Lizzy? Open your eyes.”
“William?” she mumbled sleepily.
“Indeed,” he laughed softly, “who else would it be?”
She yawned and stretched, opening her eyes briefly before nestling deeper into the mattress. “Come back to bed,” she murmured. “I am cold.”
Darcy smiled and tucked the thick covers about her. “I must go, love. Mr. Keith is waiting for me. You can return to your slumber, but I had to tell you I love you before I left.” He kissed her forehead and cheek and then her lips. It was a mistake… her arms somehow freed themselves from the snugly placed covers and twined about his neck as she drowsily pulled him into her embrace, deepening the tiny kiss he meant to bestow.
He sighed and happily gave in to her demands for a moment. With regret he untangled her hands from his hair, kissing each palm. She was dazedly looking at him, still more asleep than awake. “Why are you dressed? What time is it?” She started to rise, but he restrained her.
“Remember, dearest? I need to inspect the fisheries today. I shall return for dinner, I promise.” Her hands were clasped in his and he kissed her fingers. “I shall pine for you terribly and will be thinking of you incessantly.” He chuckled mildly. “So much so that I am not sure how effectual I will actually be! It shall be a test of my fortitude.”
She was fully awake now. Aware that it was absolutely ludicrous but unable to curb her emotions, she felt tears burn her eyes and her chin beginning to quiver. In a small voice she said, “I shall be desolate without you, Fitzwilliam. Please be careful and return quickly!”
Oh, the power she had over his faculties! Why was it that every time she spoke his full name he melted? With a groan he kissed her energetically, wrapping his arms about her as best he could with blankets and a comforter in the way. He stroked her back and readjusted his body so he was lying next to her, some tiny part of his foolish brain conjecturing that as he was clothed and she under the covers, his control could be maintained. Only a few kisses, he told himself, to placate me during my separation from her.
It was some twenty minutes later before he arose from the bed. The few kisses had evolved into far greater diversions. Lizzy was akin to a slippery eel in her ability to extricate herself from swaddled covers. Darcy could not relate how it occurred, but in no time at all, she was on top of the comforter, limbs entwined with his. Thoughts of timetables, schedules, and prior commitments fled under the forces rushing through his body. Even after two weeks of marriage and the passion that had inundated his existence, he was still amazed at how rapidly he responded to her touch; nay, even her presence was enough! His arousal was immediate and marked, his need for her vehement.
Somehow his coat was discarded haphazardly, but the remainder of his clothing stayed, neither of them wishing for the delay. One would assume they had not made love in months instead of just the previous night, their hunger raging and consuming them as it did. Their lovemaking was frenzied but no less rhapsodic.
As he buttoned his breeches and straightened his waistcoat, smiling at his divine wife, his love was too profound to experience any regret. He was behind schedule now, but the memory of her and the tingling sensations coursing through his veins vastly outweighed any time concerns.
He finished adjusting his rumpled clothing as she arose from the bed, standing before him in all her glory. She buttoned his jacket and tamed his mussed hair with her fingers. “There,” she said, “you are presentable. And tremendously handsome, I daresay.” She smiled and kissed him lingeringly.
“I love you, Mrs. Darcy, and shall miss you.” His hands traveled over her body and he nuzzled her neck, planting one last kiss on her earlobe before he pulled away. As if fearful of losing his restraint yet again,
he turned abruptly and strode rapidly to the door, pausing for one last look and a devastating smile as he closed the door behind him.
Lizzy sighed, eyeing the bed but knew she would not be able to return to sleep. Besides, she did have plans for herself today. She retrieved her nightgown from the floor wondering, not for the first time, why she even bothered donning one each night. Her husband did delight in removing it, she mused with a becoming blush, which was an incentive to maintain the habit.
Their sitting room felt emptier without Darcy, and Lizzy did not like dining alone, so she ate quickly. This was the first day in over two weeks that they would be apart for more than an hour or two. Even when Darcy had needed to attend to business, he had been brief or had worked while she sat nearby. The realities of life at Pemberley were gradually invading their idyllic solitude. Darcy had postponed today’s outing for several days, but he could no longer ignore his responsibilities. It was sad; however, Lizzy was determined not to mope about but instead to benefit from the time alone.
First, she met with Mrs. Reynolds in her parlor. Over the past week, they had conversed on a number of occasions, primarily about the Christmas festivities. Lizzy was gradually growing more comfortable with the housekeeper and had began inquiring about other topics relating to the manor’s management and tasks that she should eventually assume.
Mrs. Reynolds was all that Darcy had declared she was: benevolent, amicable, patient, supportive, and incredibly elated to have Lizzy as mistress.
Mr. Keith had graciously penned a detailed report of all the Pemberley tenants and their families. Lizzy’s initial task with Mrs. Reynolds was to discuss the holiday gift boxes for the tenants. This was an old tradition that had been maintained over the years but without the personal touch of a Mistress. Lizzy decided this was a perfect commencement of her duties and a splendid way to acquaint herself with the folks who devoted their service to Pemberley.
She hoped that Georgiana would wish to accompany her. Darcy had never insisted on Georgiana undertaking the tasks properly expected of the Mistress of Pemberley since this was not her role and she was too young. However, he did believe it imperative that she learn what being the mistress of an estate entailed since she would someday marry. He and Lizzy had conferred and decided that Lizzy joining the family afforded an ideal opportunity for them to be educated together.
Using a map of the estate and her knowledge of the surrounding area, Mrs. Reynolds figured it would take two to three days to deliver the packages, allowing time to socialize. A rough agenda was laid for the days prior to Christmas. The gifts were to be individualized based on each family’s needs. That was where Mr. Keith’s and Darcy’s intimate knowledge proved to be invaluable. Darcy had been proud of Lizzy when she broached the subject of tackling this chore. He had willingly put aside his own business, and they had sat for more than two hours talking about the tenants while Lizzy jotted down the information. Mrs. Reynolds imparted personal tidbits about the children and wives. Armed with this data, Lizzy had dictated meticulous lists of purchases to be made, victuals to be prepared, and game to be dressed for each family.
Next, they finalized the menus for Christmas Eve and Day. Mrs. Langton managed the kitchens with an iron fist and required little in the way of instruction. Lizzy had requested the inclusion of some of her personal favorite dishes and asked to be shown the daily menu for her approval, yet other than that, no changes needed to be made. As far as the holiday preparations were concerned, Mrs. Langton was abundantly capable, having served the Darcy family for more than twenty years. Although Lizzy had heard rumors of Mrs. Langton’s grousing about the extra work, Mrs. Reynolds assured her that the cook was never happier than when overtaxed and that her belligerence was a well-honed personality trait used to perfection in her superior management of the kitchen staff.
“I am confident that Mrs. Langton will provide adequately for all our guests,” Lizzy said, marking a check on her list, “and that she will command the huntsmen aptly. Now, I see that the groundsmen have been trekking into the woods for holly, ivy, and mistletoe. I want to drape the entire manor if possible!”
“I have instructed them, Mistress. I have purchased ribbon to tie the boughs and lace through the vines. I inventoried the stock of candles and ordered several dozen additional. Mr. Taylor will be directing the footmen to unpack the decorations in storage, and the maids will oversee any cleaning or repairs. This will be finished by the end of the week. With your permission, Mrs. Darcy, I would request that we refrain from the final trimming until Miss Georgiana arrives.”
“Absolutely, Mrs. Reynolds.” Lizzy smiled. “It shall be wonderful to have Miss Darcy home. Our acquaintance was unfortunately fleeting before the wedding, therefore not conducive to forming a sisterly relationship, as I desire ours to be. Also, Mr. Darcy misses her terribly.”
Mrs. Reynolds continued, crossing items off her own list as she went, “The guest chambers are being prepared. Col. Fitzwilliam will most likely stay here rather than at the Matlock Estate. I have chosen the largest of our couple’s suites in the north wing for the Lathrops, if this meets with your approval, Mrs. Darcy.”
“I will trust your judgment in this matter, Mrs. Reynolds, since the guest rooms are unfamiliar to me yet.”
“Thank you, Mistress. I doubt if Lord and Lady Matlock will tarry over night; however, I have taken the liberty of preparing a suite for them as well. The weather can be unpredictable this time of year.”
“Excellent.” Lizzy examined her paper with a small frown. “Well, all appears to be in order. The Yule log has been cut and dressed, the pianoforte tuned, and menus arranged. The house is impeccably clean as always, and games and activities have been concocted and equipped for…” She sighed and shyly met Mrs. Reynolds kind eyes. “Mrs. Reynolds, I must confess to you how tremendously I appreciate your collaboration with me. You have been patient and thoughtful and exceedingly supportive. I am well aware that you did not need my input on any of the planning; nonetheless, you have embraced my interference and have taught me so much. I cannot thank you enough.”
Mrs. Reynolds blushed faintly. “Mrs. Darcy, may I speak freely?” Lizzy nodded. “The Darcys are dear to me, as is Pemberley. I flatter myself that I know Mr. Darcy well, or at least as well as a servant can ever know one’s master. His joy since his marriage to you, Mrs. Darcy, is beyond anything I have ever witnessed from him. That fact alone would induce me to welcome you and, frankly, endure any hardship on my part in the process.
“However, this has not been the case. If I may be so bold, I sincerely like you. You are intelligent, lively, honorable, and most importantly, you love Mr. Darcy and Pemberley. I am discovering that these discussions and educational opportunities with you are a source of pleasure to me. Therefore, the thanks are entirely mine, Mistress.”
Lizzy was overcome and speechless, eyes glazed with tears. Mrs. Reynolds lightly patted her hands then rose, resuming her brisk, efficient manner. “Is there anything else, Mrs. Darcy?”
“No, I believe we have covered the list for now.”
“Very well. Luncheon shall be served early, as you requested, and Phillips will be awaiting you in the foyer when you are ready.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds.” With a curtsey, she left. Lizzy remained seated for a while, thinking. Her mind turned to William, wondering where he was at that moment, what he was doing. She shook her head. Do not start down that path! A knock at the door interrupted her reverie. “Enter.”
A maid approached and handed her a letter. “This just arrived, Mrs. Darcy.”
“Thank you. Your name is Hannah, is it not? I am slowly learning.”
“There are many of us, Mrs. Darcy. I still cannot remember the names of all the footmen.” She giggled and then flushed, realizing belatedly that she was being too forward.
Lizzy, however, laughed the tinkling laugh they had all grown accustomed to hearing in the usually quiet house. “Thank you, Hannah. That comforts me.”
The
letter was in actuality an invitation addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley from Sir John Cole of Melcourt Hall. There was to be a Twelfth Night Masquerade Ball. Lizzy’s heart fluttered in excitement mixed with no slight amount of trepidation at the news. She had never attended anything so formal in her life, and it would be the first social outing with her husband. She shrugged. Sooner or later she had to meet the families of Derbyshire and afterwards the ton of London. A ball was as fine a place as any to begin!
For the afternoon, Lizzy had decided to drive to Matlock for some shopping. Phillips and another footman named Georges attended her. The town of Matlock was larger than Lambton and a mere ten miles further south. Marguerite, who had resided there for the past eight years, had supplied her mistress with a list of the finest shops the town had to offer.
She spent several lovely hours acquiring gifts for her parents, sisters, Charlotte, Georgiana and, of course, William. The funds that Darcy had allotted her were more than adequate for all she wished to purchase. So much so, in fact, that she could never envision spending them all. She even picked up a few odds and ends for the tenants and the servants, and still had a surplus.
Once she was home, dressing for dinner, her aching heart conquered her. Darcy had not yet returned and the loneliness of the long day without his smiles, kisses, tender touch, and lush, masculine voice caught up to her. She wore a new gown, fashionable and of a highly daring style. She chose the sapphires and Marguerite dressed her hair strikingly, permitting several curls to fall over one shoulder.
The sun was setting, casting the gardens into deeper gloom, before Lizzy heard her husband’s unmistakable resonant baritone and firm tread in the hall. Her heart skipped a beat and every ounce of willpower was called forth to forestall her rushing from the room and into his arms. Instead, she sedately strolled out of the parlor where she was lurking to see him hand his coat to a footman and speak with Mr. Keith. He was dusty and windblown with a dark shadow of beard. She smiled brightly, content merely to gaze at him until he finally noticed her in his peripheral vision.
Mr. & Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy: Two Shall Become One tds-1 Page 17