Would he be able to set aside his strict morals to indulge his baser feelings?
Well, he was doing rather well, his own hand was stroking her breasts under her coat, and he was standing really close to her, rubbing himself against her legs suggestively.
'Is this button on your blouse a little tight, my love?' he asked, his voice thick with heat.
'I do think it is, I seem to have gained some weight. Riding skirts and blouses are more revealing than dresses that way.'
Did his eyebrow raise the slightest bit? Was there a hint of a soft smile in his lovely mouth? It didn't matter, either she was expecting or she wasn't, and if the latter, she would make sure to have another chance at making a baby right now, her body was demanding it of her, and considering the way his pantaloons were now stretched to their full extent his thoughts weren't differently engaged.
They were both too tightly attired in corset and coat to undress, but their heat could no longer be denied, Fitzwilliam lifted her into the window seat and started on her fastenings, kissing her every so often to keep the heat up, and she stroked his hair and his manly cheeks, she could no longer reach his pantaloons, too bad but very exciting in all other ways.
Still kissing with passion, Elizabeth could feel him trying to get under her riding skirt, he was used to skirts of course, he would not manage to reach inside with the trouser legs making things rather tight. And she was wearing woollies, that wouldn't help since they reached down to her ankles and were a lot tighter still than her skirt legs.
But Fitzwilliam's blood was up, he changed tactics and managed to get the drawers down, together with the whole riding skirts, the stone of the window scratching her behind slightly. It didn't matter, this was so exciting! Judging by his next action he'd gotten inside his own pantaloons as well, for she was lifted off the window sill bodily by strong arms that held her legs and gently lowered her onto an almost explosive bliss. When her body rested on his stomach, her legs still supported by his arms, he increased the bliss again and again, until the whitewashed walls with their gaily painted scenes of ancient Roman life started to spin, and her gasps of ardour mingled with his rhythmic moans. The wind blew through the windows, of course the temple had no glazing, but the couple inside didn't feel the approaching rainstorm, they were lost in each other and in bliss.
All too soon it was over, Fitzwilliam clutching her slender shape against his much taller one, his face in her neck, his breathing fast and hoarse. He did not say anything, he just clung to her and kissed her with so much love that Elizabeth was glad this wasn't really ancient Rome, or their all-too-human gods would get jealous and strike the young couple with misfortune to punish their hubris.
Of course the horses were still tethered outside, and Fitzwilliam soon straightened, setting his beloved back on her own two feet. Elizabeth righted her woollies and her riding skirts, then re-fastened her blouse where it was so tight over her breasts that the buttons had come undone. They were indeed bulging a little over her corset, she might have to have Fanny loosen it tonight. Maybe she'd slowly gained weight in town, she hadn't worn this pair of riding skirts for months, if so she'd certainly lose it out here, riding and fishing and shooting. If not, she'd have to ask Jane what it felt like to be pregnant.
'Do you mind if your hair is a bit rumpled?'
Fitzwilliam certainly didn't, he looked amused and very, very happy.
Elizabeth shook her head, seeing the escaped curls for herself.
'Let anyone who sees me think Barley gave me the exciting ride. There is no reporter in sight, and Mrs Reynolds will just have to get used to seeing me
dishevelled.'
She kissed her beloved one more time, then reclaimed Barley's reins and mounted, looking down on her adoring husband. Who eventually closed his mouth, then mounted his own horse, turning him towards the house.
They had not walked their horses for more than a minute when they almost ran into Anne and Nick, who were rambling towards the Roman temple, not hand in hand but clearly in love. Still, the only staff to ever come here were Oliver, the hunt master, checking the place for signs of vermin, and the gardeners, to clear weeds. And neither did that more often than once every six months. Not at the end of winter anyway.
'Darcy, Elizabeth! I envy you to be riding like that! I'm glad we'll have our own riding skirts soon, I cannot way to try riding.'
Another five minutes and they would have been caught red-handed!
Elizabeth looked at Fitzwilliam, who merely smiled with infatuation.
'Were you heading towards the temple?' he asked the ramblers.
'We were, but now we've run into you two I suppose we'd like to return to the house together, if you don't mind the company.'
Whatever Anne wanted to talk to them about, it originated in Nick, and he was having a hard time with Anne bringing it out in the open so suddenly. He dared not protest, though, not in front of Fitzwilliam. But Anne had chosen the perfect moment, Fitzwilliam was incredibly mellow after a long ride and a passionate one, whatever Nick wanted to tell him would be received with forbearance.
'No problem, let me dismount, I'll walk with you.'
Of course Elizabeth did the same, and they flanked the couple so the trailing horses wouldn't be in the way of hearing what Anne's beloved had to say.
When he had their attention, he talked readily enough.
'You know I have this reputation of liking women.'
They nodded, of course.
'It's already spread, and I have pledged Mrs Reynolds and Mrs Eliot that my behaviour under your roof will be above suspicion. But one of the temporary maids approached me, wanting me to help her find a permanent position. She also told me of her sister, who apparently is very smart. I guess she is hoping for the girl to find a patron, to help her study to be a nurse. I thought I'd bring it to your attention, I suppose your people need nurses and midwives, too, and to send local people out to be educated is likely the most common way to provide them. I hoped you might be willing to help this girl's sister become
an asset to your community. Their father is one of your tenants.
I also asked the lady housekeepers to explain to the maid what misunderstandings might have resulted from her behaviour. A lot of men would just have taken what she offered and left her to deal with the consequences. She didn't even really like me, she admired Simon.'
'You mean to say she offered you...herself, in exchange for helping her?'
'And her sister, but yes, that is exactly what she did. I hope you won't lay her off for being naïve, for I truly think that is what she was.'
Her beloved nodded, contemplated for a few moments, then said, 'If you discussed this with Mrs Reynolds, I suppose she will handle that last part adequately. I cannot interfere with her right to rule the staff. But I can indeed help the sister, if she really wants to improve herself. I shall have my steward examine her on her knowledge and talents, and if she is indeed willing and able to learn to care for others he will find her a place where she will be offered the opportunity. I must say, Fowler, it's kind of convenient to have eyes and ears in the back of the house, it saves a lot of snooping around.'
And he described how he'd followed his London staff to catch them at their bullying.
'I cannot believe Bruce was one of the tormentors, sir, he is such a polite young fellow. I don't think he would do such a thing again.'
'In that case, he will be allowed to go back to his family in due time. If he has learned too much here to go back to being a lowly stable boy there, I suppose he'll get recommendations to find a better position, good stable boys are always in demand, and Hugo is the best teacher.'
Seeing Nick's fleeting expression of disbelief Fitzwilliam asserted, 'He is much different here, you'll see.'
Elizabeth didn't think Nick would be subject to the difference, he was the kind of man that Hugo respected, his 'bad' reputation doing him a favour with the virile Frenchman. But he would certainly notice how strictly Hugo ruled his ow
n realm.
'Well, sir, your stable hands are all hard-working, polite men, so I shouldn't have been surprised. Thank your for hearing me.'
'My pleasure, Fowler. You have made my cousin very happy, and you bear with your unequal treatment admirably. I'm glad you decided to come to me with this.'
Nick looked very pleased and acknowledged Fitzwilliam's polite address with a little bow, he was gaining refined manners so quickly, and charm he'd
always had plenty.
Darcy would have liked to ask his cousin's lover to join him in some shooting practice, he seemed the type to appreciate weapons skills, and Darcy hoped Nick would agree to teach his host some of his own fighting methods. They were of course not suitable for a gentleman, not at all, but who knew when they'd come in handy? It seemed Fowler was here to stay, so he might as well get to know the fellow a little better.
But frankly, Darcy didn't have a clue whether Fowler was free to just go where he liked. He was in Manners' service, and the others were still very busy decorating their rooms on the second floor, maybe Fowler would be needed to help with the lifting. Darcy didn't want to make trouble for the fellow, Manners seemed to like him a lot but he ruled his staff as a gentleman should. Still, there would be plenty of time for sports in the coming weeks, and it wouldn't hurt to ask Manners about teaching his new employee, he probably wouldn't mind the fellow acquiring some useful extra skills. Not just to help him guard his charges abroad, but also to augment his gentleman's education. A true gentleman could ride and shoot as well as speak accentless, sophisticated English. Making sensible conversation was also part of Darcy's preferred skill set for both ladies and gentlemen, but he knew plenty of both genders in the most estimable of classes who couldn't manage that. There was always the option of not talking much to prevent one from making a fool of oneself.
But first, there was a more humble attic than his own to search for Elizabeth and himself, shooting would have to wait.
Chapter 6
About an hour later they were walking towards the guard house hand in hand, they had cleaned up and changed, Elizabeth wearing an older dress but her rich fur-lined long coat over it.
'I don't want Mrs Brewer to think I don't respect her, Fitzwilliam,' Elizabeth had said, 'but attics are usually dusty, and there are nails and wood splinters as well, I don't want to risk spoiling my good dresses. Do you think she'll accept my wearing an older dress if I wear my best coat?'
Frankly, Darcy hardly knew Mrs Brewer, the Brewer family lived on his estate but in their own little house near the entrance gates, where Wickham's father had lived before them. Nathan ran Darcy's estate when Darcy was away from home, as Mrs Reynolds ran the household, except for the household finances, which Mrs Reynolds handled but under Nathan's supervision. The steward only answered to Darcy himself, he was the most important member of his staff with the most responsibilities. Of course Mrs Reynolds ran the household even when Darcy was in residence, though he wouldn't be surprised if Elizabeth would soon take an interest there.
As they followed the lane towards the little house he replied, 'I suppose she will understand, my love. Who would wear a good dress when they are about to get very dirty? It would have been more sensible to go in your riding skirts and clean up afterwards.'
The little house had a reasonably sized garden plot at the back, which was surrounded by a tall hedge with just the one entrance that looked as if it had grown into the thick evergreens. The opening was guarded by a curious gate that seemed rather out of place on his estate: it was as tall as a man and half again as wide, and it consisted of several intricately curved branches of some kind of fairy-tale tree, sprouting from the lower left and curling upwards, twisting across and through each other to form a latticework of intertwining branches. Elizabeth was as intrigued as himself, and they simultaneously reached out to feel what it was made of.
'It's iron, isn't it?'
He could not but agree, it felt cold to the touch and it was very solid, this had to be wrought iron. A little knock confirmed their suspicion, as the gate made a ringing sound.
'It's beautiful, it looks just like wood, even the colour! Did you know it was here?'
He had never before seen that gate, or he'd have shown it to Elizabeth when she first arrived here. To him, the the guard house hadn't been worth any consideration, it was small and old, but not old enough to be interesting, and to be honest, not very comfortable. But Nathan had been glad to have it when Darcy'd had him recommended by Mr Eliot's predecessor when Wickham's father had died rather suddenly. That unfortunate man, after losing his wife to consumption and his son to debauchery his work had been his all, and when Darcy's father had died the life had just gone out of him. He'd taught Darcy all he knew, and then one winter he had caught pneumonia and before Darcy
had heard of his illness, he'd died of it. He had attended the funeral, from a little distance at first, but when Wickham wasn't even there he had joined the rest of the attendants, Mrs Reynolds, some other members of the staff, a distant relative or two.
A small hand squeezed his, and he looked down on his lovely Elizabeth.
Then, he had thought Wickham senior indulgent towards his Victoria, now he knew from personal experience how madly in love a man could be with his wife.
'I have to confess I haven't been to this place for years. It looks altogether different, somehow. I suppose they use this gate to enter the yard, but I don't see how I could do that, my love. I feel obliged to use the front door, though it's probably stuck for lack of use.'
'I'm certain Mr Brewer will forgive you. He must have been glad to see you after so many months.'
'He was. He had done all the work to perfection, of course, but sometimes it is nice to get a little acknowledgement as well as a salary. Nathan is very important to me and an admirable man. Intelligent, kind, and with a sense of humour. Like his predecessor, the elder Mr Wickham. He always had a kind word and good advice. Maybe stewards are the true cream of mankind.
'So you were travelling memory lane just now, remembering a friend. I hope you are not feeling guilty anymore over having let down his son.'
'I do not, Wickham is where he belongs, even if it took him years to find that place. And I am glad to have helped him, out of respect for what his father did for me and my family. And who knows, maybe his father wasn't actually his father. Though I suppose the man who raises you will be your father forever.'
'I wouldn't know,' Elizabeth observed bluntly, 'I was never raised. My bad habits are all inherited, no possible doubt who my father is.'
No, there wasn't. Darcy did not hesitate to smile at Elizabeth's half-funny, half-serious remark, and replied, 'And still I cannot help loving you, and liking him. How afraid I was of his sarcasm. I wish my father had neglected my education and kept me around, I might have been there for my mother, and a lot happier myself. When we have a son, my love, please let us not send him to some cold, uncaring school during the most formative years of his youth. Let's just hire a superior tutor and raise him ourselves.'
'Or we could foster him with Anne and Frederick, I don't think Frederick will ever allow a child of his to suffer through school.'
'That is just the strangest idea, though I know they will have children eventually. But I suppose we'd better foster theirs then, they'll be wanting to go out a lot and we don't. Ah, we're here, I'm going to knock.'
And though Nathan did look a bit surprised to find someone at the front, the door did not so much as creak. And anything Darcy might have wanted to add to their conversation was forgotten, as soon as they had entered the Brewers' quaint little house.
'Will you join us for tea?' his steward asked, 'Juliette has made her special pie. You've never been here before, Mr Darcy, I hope you'll like what we did with the house.'
He sounded a bit nervous, he was probably afraid Darcy would object to their décor, but he remembered the house as it used to be, like uncle Spencer's town house, at least ten years out of date. It had been small
, cramped and as much a shrine to a beloved spouse as his uncle's much larger house still was.
Now, it was still small, but it breathed life and intimacy, each wall was a different colour and there were works of craftsmanship, or was it art?, everywhere. Not the priceless paintings and marble statues which Elizabeth had described from Carlton House, but living, breathing objects made of wood, or other natural materials such as shells and stones. The furniture looked as if it had been grown on a tree instead of wrung into shape by a carpenter or crafter, the lines flowing and corners or sharp edges totally absent. Rugs and pillows and cushions abounded, the curtains were made of velvet but adorned with glass beads and bits of pearly shell, and there was a large harp standing in a corner. A floor lamp was made in the same style as the gate outside, of wrought iron with panes of coloured glass filling the gaps, in a semblance of a bush or a tree with living branches.
Darcy would not want to live here but he knew somebody who'd love it.
'Georgiana would absolutely love this!' Elizabeth exclaimed.
Exactly. Georgie would love it, and Darcy guessed that some of the artwork was extremely good quality, way above Nathan's standard of living.
'Do you really think so, Mrs Darcy? Juliette made most of it. She's in the kitchen, fetching tea, she will be so delighted to finally meet you!'
Why hadn't he taken Elizabeth to meet Mrs Brewer before? They had visited Peter at home. Nathan hadn't invited them, if he had they would have gone, maybe he was afraid they'd disapprove?
'You wife can work iron?'
Now Nathan's pride showed.
'She has a little workshop in the back of the garden where she does that, yes.
Just small things and very labour intensive, but I think it's beautiful.'
'It is, very much so, the gate, the lamp, it must have been so hard to fit those pieces of glass to the spaces exactly. Georgiana will love this, Mr Brewer, will you allow me to bring her over soon? Does Mrs Brewer take commissions?'
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