by Robin Helm
Darcy dried his hands on the towel and laid it on the washstand. Glancing around the room, he looked increasingly puzzled. “Where are the servants?”
“I have given them instructions that we are not to be disturbed. Hendricks will bring us our food, but I shall serve you tonight. Sit down, husband.”
He looked bemused, but did as his wife directed.
As she finished speaking, the door opened and a footman entered, pushing a cart laden with covered dishes. He steered the cart to the side of the table, bowed, and left the room.
Soon, a steaming bowl of artichoke soup sat in front of Darcy. “My favourite,” he said, drawing in a deep breath.
Elizabeth placed her own bowl across from him and took her seat. “I know. I hope you will enjoy this meal, for you have hardly eaten for a month.”
He paused, spoon in midair, looking at her with concern. “Did you not eat earlier? Never tell me you waited until I came home.”
She sipped her soup. “I shall eat neither breakfast nor dinner unless I eat it with you, Fitzwilliam.”
He drew his brows together. “Yes, you shall. I will not have you make yourself ill.”
“Yet you fully expect me to tacitly agree with your lack of attention to your own health.” She very deliberately placed her spoon in her bowl and her hands in her lap. “I shall do so no longer, for I daresay I love you every bit as much as you love me. Probably a great deal more.”
The gentleman frowned, pursing his lips. “Are you testing me now? Pick up your spoon.”
Elizabeth tilted her head. “Pick up yours. I shall eat when you do.”
“Stubborn woman,” he replied, laughing in spite of himself, as he retrieved his spoon to take a bit of soup.
The meal continued through the courses until they were ready for their sweet. Elizabeth pulled her chair to sit beside her husband. She took the lids from the dishes, displaying baked apple pudding, chosen because it was Darcy’s favourite.
His green eyes lit up. “Is it still warm?”
“It should be,” she answered, pointing under the dishes. “I told them to place the pudding on hot bricks.”
He leaned over and pressed his lips lightly to her cheek. “I love you.”
She felt a glow spread through her. “Quite convenient, for I love you, too.”
By the time they finished eating, Darcy’s eyelids drooped. He could no longer hide his extreme fatigue.
Elizabeth walked to the door, gesturing to someone just on the other side, then she took her husband’s hand and led him up the stairs.
As they entered their bedroom, she pointed to the bed. “Sit.”
He raised a brow in question but followed her instructions.
She knelt in front of him, took hold of one of his boots, then pulled it off.
“Elizabeth, you are not my valet. Allow me to call Sims.”
“And give him what little time you have? I think not.”
She removed his other boot and stood. “Follow me,” she said, crooking her index finger at him, walking to his dressing room, looking back to make certain he did as she directed.
“I must admit to a certain curiosity,” he muttered. Upon entering the room, his mouth dropped open. Before him was a steaming bath and Elizabeth, determination in her eyes.
“Surely I should ring for Sims now.”
She shook her head, her mouth set. “Turn around.” Courage, do not fail me now. After all, I have seen him unclothed. Surely undressing him myself cannot be so difficult.
He raised a brow but did as she commanded. “Should I unbutton my jacket and waistcoat?”
Ah. I should have done that before he turned his back to me. No matter.
“No,” she replied, marching around him, attacking the buttons of his jacket and waistcoat with vigour, then crossing behind him to pull the garments from his shoulders, throwing them over a chair. She stepped to his front.
“Now what?” he asked with a lopsided grin, arms stretched out, palms up.
Elizabeth reached up to untie his cravat and unbutton his shirt. She pulled the cravat by one end and pushed his shirt from his shoulders.
“What next?” he asked.
Feeling the blush rise from her neck to her hairline, she bit her lip and closed her eyes.
“I shall call for Sims,” she said, choking a bit on the words.
She felt her husband’s large hands cupping her cheeks, caressing her face with his thumbs.
His voice was warm and gentle. “My love, you have done very well. You have no need to blush. Sims is accustomed to helping me. You are not.”
Her nod was his answer. She quickly spun to pull on the rope and summon the valet. Sims appeared almost immediately. Elizabeth left the room and went into her own dressing room to prepare for bed. Her maid joined her there, and soon she awaited him.
Once the valet had helped her husband complete his bath and don his nightshirt, Darcy joined her, promptly falling asleep.
Before a few minutes had passed, she was dreaming again.
⸟ﻬ⸞ﻬ⸟
Darcy reaches for me, clutching at the air as I run from him, unconcerned that my bonnet falls to the ground and several curls escape their pins. The normally reserved gentleman watches my progress with amusement, obviously planning his attack. I know the woods of the Pemberley estate much better than he thinks, but he seems determined to have his prize.
“You promised me!” he calls. “I shall claim my winnings! I won fairly, and you must give me what was agreed upon.”
I scurry up the hill, hiding behind first one tree and then another, darting between them to hide. My yellow gown flutters as I run, ribbons streaming behind me, and his laughter floats on the breeze, as if he knows some delicious secret he will not share.
His eyes twinkle as he plans his strategy. After all, he won the chess game by holding back, waiting until the perfect moment to execute his plan. The gentleman is accustomed to being patient while I am spontaneous, mercurial. He is completely other, quite different from me, and he fascinates me endlessly. I know no one else like him.
He leaves his coat and hat on a tree stump and begins to track me, moving very quietly through the underbrush. He tilts his head, listening to hear me, just ahead of him, breathing quickly, and he stoops to hide in the bushes, holding a few leaves to the side so that he can see up the hill.
He sees my skirt move in the wind as I lean against a tree with my back to him, catching my breath. My slight frame is obscured by the width of the tree. I do not realize that my dress cannot be still in the breeze.
He creeps closer and closer, taking a circuitous route to approach the tree from the side, knowing I do not expect him to come from the brush there. I peek around the tree, my eyes scanning the trees and bushes. Suddenly, I hear a deep chuckle behind me, and I whirl to face the hunter.
“Sir!” I exclaim. “It is not gentlemanly to sneak about in such a fashion!”
I turned to run again, but he catches me about my waist from behind and holds me fast, pulling me backwards into his embrace, pinning my back against his chest with his muscular arms.
“Elizabeth,” he says softly into my ear.
I shiver with delight, anticipating his actions.
“I will have my prize. You must honour your promise to me.”
He lowers his head, nuzzling me behind my ear, and I tremble at the sensation of his warm breath caressing my neck as his strong arms cage me, drawing me tightly against him. After a moment, he relaxes his hold. I see my chance.
Quickly I spin in his arms, reach up, and pull his head down toward mine, stopping just before our lips touch.
“You think you won by your superior strategy, my love,” I say. “I think I am the victor here. I tricked you into finding me so I could claim what I wanted.”
He allows me to finish drawing his face to mine, kissing me gently at first, and then with an urgency born of his love for me.
After he lifts his face from mine, I lay my cheek on h
is broad chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, breathing in the scent of him, holding to him as tightly as I can while he caresses my back.
He does not argue with me, saying, “What does it matter which of us claims victory so long as we both win?”
⸟ﻬ⸞ﻬ⸟
The following morning, Elizabeth awoke as soon as her husband left the bed. While he was in his dressing room with his valet, she donned her robe, brushed her hair, slipped on some shoes, and ran down the stairs.
When he entered the room, she stood and patted his chair. “Sit, husband. I shall fill your plate.”
His lips twitched, but he did as she said. She placed his breakfast before him, and soon returned to sit with him, her own plate in her hand.
Spreading jelly on her toast, she turned her face to look at him. “What do you have planned for today?”
“I shall ride to the north farm to supervise the progress of the new irrigation system. I hope to be able to extend it all the way to the lower lake, eventually watering all the farmland of Pemberley. There will be miles of ditches, weirs, and canals involved.”
“Quite interesting, and most forward thinking. Is that all you must do?”
“No,” answered Darcy. “Those are my plans for the morning. In the afternoon, a shipment of building materials will be delivered for the dower house. The architect will meet me there with the plans to make certain we have everything we need for the builders. The foundation has already been laid.”
“How very exciting! I confess I can hardly wait to see it built.”
They continued to chat as he ate. As she had no appetite, she drank her coffee.
The gentleman pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at it. “I must go, but I shall remember last night and this morning all day.”
Standing, he stooped over to kiss her, running his hands through her unbound hair. “I love seeing you like this – in your dressing gown with your hair down.”
She turned her face up to his. “I shall think of you.”
He turned to go, saying quietly, “I shall be hard pressed to think of anything but you.”
Elizabeth hummed as she hurried upstairs to dress, then went to her study, retrieved her journal, and began to write.
Chapter Three
There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart.
Emma, Jane Austen
Elizabeth clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, encouraging Patience to canter, and the mare responded beautifully. Soon she and Mr. Anderson were moving across the rolling hills of Pemberley, enjoying the morning sun at their backs. The chilly breeze reminded Elizabeth to be thankful for her heavy coat, leather boots, and woollen gloves.
“Shall we gallop for a stretch?” she asked, glancing at the gray-haired head groom.
The man nodded, instructing her in the technique, grinning a bit at her enthusiasm.
“I dunna ken if I ever saw any gel take to ridin’ as quick as you, Mrs. Darcy. Are ye sure ye had never ridden afore a few weeks ago?”
She smiled broadly. “Perhaps you are just that fine a teacher, Mr. Anderson.”
“Just Anderson, lass. I dunna ken who ‘Mr. Anderson’ is.”
“As you wish,” she called over her shoulder, loosing Patience’s reins and nudging her to go faster.
They crested Knob Hill just as the men broke for an early afternoon meal. Elizabeth spotted the tall, broad-shouldered form of her husband and guided her mare towards him.
He put a hand above his eyes, shading them from the sun. “Elizabeth?”
She reined her horse to a stop in front of him. “Were you expecting someone else?” she teased.
Darcy, an expression of astonishment on his face, raised his arms to help her dismount. “When did you learn to ride?”
“Mr. Anderson has been teaching me for several weeks. I wanted to surprise you,” she replied.
“You are full of surprises lately,” he said.
Anderson took the horse’s reins, holding Patience steady as Elizabeth swung her leg over, allowing her husband to assist her, enjoying the moments he held her.
He briefly embraced her before he stepped back, surveying her from head to toe. “What are you wearing?”
Elizabeth grimaced, glancing down at her dark red riding habit, then looking up at him with a guilty expression.
What if he does not like how I am dressed? I should not like to embarrass him before the household or his friends.
She explained in a rush of words. “I know it is improper, but I never would have learned to ride side saddle. I could not feel secure that way, and, as you know, I already feared horses, so I went to Lambton and engaged a seamstress to make this habit and coat for me. I designed them myself. Are you angry with me for flaunting convention?”
Darcy walked around her, inspecting the garment with curiosity. “The skirt of the dress is so generous, no one would know you rode astride. It resembles trousers with extremely wide legs, and there’s a train attached to lay behind you on the horse, like the skirt of a regular riding habit would. The split in the back of the coat must make it comfortable. Very imaginative and modest. Well done, wife.”
I may as well show him everything, she thought. In for a penny, in for a pound. Lifting the skirts a bit, Elizabeth displayed her slim ankles. “The cobbler made me boots up to my knees. My legs were chafed, so I thought these would protect me better than my short walking boots.”
“Ingenious,” he said, admiring the tradesman’s work. “Made to fit a lady’s more delicate foot, with no silly, pointed toes and a higher heel than a man’s. I highly approve.” Darcy turned his head, levelling a steady gaze at her. “Have I ever been angry with you? Am I such a hard taskmaster?” he asked gently.
He is not displeased. In truth, he has been a nearly perfect husband. I was wrong to think he might not like what is best for me when he has always given me everything within his power.
She visibly relaxed. “No, but I am glad I have not disappointed you.”
“You came all this way to show me your outfit and horse-riding skills?” he asked, eyes bright.
Elizabeth noticed a roaring fire built from trees which had been cut down to make way for the irrigation ditches. She motioned to Mr. Anderson, and he fetched two large bundles which hung on either side of his horse, connected by several leather belts. Before a quarter hour passed, Elizabeth and Darcy were sitting on thick blankets by the fire, enjoying a picnic lunch.
After they finished eating, he helped her pack everything back into the bundles, and Mr. Anderson loaded them on to his horse again.
Darcy helped his wife back onto her mount, leaning close to her ear, whispering, “Thank you, my darling. I shall see you tonight. Always remember, I love you.”
She turned her head, pecking him quickly on the cheek. “I shall look forward all day to seeing your face when you come home to me, husband.”
⸟ﻬ⸞ﻬ⸟
Again, Elizabeth sat on the steps, awaiting Darcy’s return. He strode with purpose to the door, a spring in his step.
As she had the night before, after taking his coat and hat, she led him to the small dining parlour and served him his dinner.
“You do not have to do this,” he said, though his expression betrayed his delight in her attentions.
“I know that. I do this because I wish to do it. This soup with chicken and vegetables is quite delicious. Do you like it?”
“Mmm …” he nodded, his mouth full.
“Cook prepared roast duck with carrots and parsnips. She said it has always been a favourite of yours. How did I not know that? Why have we never had it since we married?”
“You do not like parsnips, so I told Mrs. Reynolds to remove it from our menus.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “How do you know I dislike parsnips?”
He raised a brow. “I ate dinner at Longbourn several times, you know. Your cook prepared parsnips, and you ate some of every dish served except that one. Pemberley is your home. W
e shall eat what you enjoy.”
“But not at your expense. Cook can prepare potatoes for me when you have parsnips. What else have you hidden from me?” Her tone brooked no argument.
How often has he put my wants before his own?
Darcy reached for her hand. “Discovering new things about each other should be one of the joys of marriage. Do you not agree?”
She nodded solemnly. “Indeed, husband, I think you have the right of it.”
⸟ﻬ⸞ﻬ⸟
When Darcy closed the door to their bedchamber, he took her face between his hands, gently kissing her. “Shall you ready me for my bath again?”
She smiled shyly. He must have liked that.
“I shall help you as much as I did last night, but I have something else planned, so do not fall asleep if you can help it.”
“Then call for Sims. He should hurry, for I must admit I am weary.”
After Elizabeth removed his boots, cravat, and shirt, Sims stepped in to assist him with his bath. True to his word, Darcy had finished bathing and was in his nightshirt, back in their chambers within twenty minutes.
“What shall I do now, Elizabeth?” he asked, glancing towards the bed. “Give me my instructions.”
She had pulled the bed covers down while he was bathing. “Lie back on your pillow,” she said, swallowing hard.
He crossed the room to do her bidding.
Elizabeth lifted his legs, pushing several pillows under his calves. Then she sat cross-legged at the end of the bed and drew his feet into her lap. She took her time massaging each toe, the balls of his feet, his arches, and his heels. By the time she reached his calf muscles, Darcy was sound asleep.
Elizabeth climbed up beside him, pulling the heavy covers over both of them, putting her lips to his cheek carefully so as not to disturb his rest. Her dream quickly claimed her.
⸟ﻬ⸞ﻬ⸟
I awaken a little later than is normal for me, after being out rather late the previous evening at a social engagement. My husband and I had been in no rush to fall asleep once we had finally gone to bed. I turn my head and reach out my hand for Fitzwilliam, only to find that he is fully dressed, lying propped against a pillow, watching me.