by Robin Helm
He smiles. “Good morning, sweetheart. Have you finally decided to join me?”
My heart responds as it always does when he smiles at me. After all, I am sleepy, but I am not yet dead. “You are up early. I thought we would lie abed this morning.”
“You did lie abed. Now ’tis time to get up,” he said, leaning over to kiss me. “Breakfast is ready.”
I sit up and stretch, yawning and blinking the sleep from my eyes. I can feel his gaze upon me.
“I must look an absolute fright,” I say, pushing my wild curls back from my face.
“No, I like the way you are. Come,” he said, holding his hand out to me. “This is a special day.”
“Fitzwilliam, you must allow me to at least put on my dressing gown and brush my hair. It would not do to frighten the servants,” I reply, taking his hand, tugging him to my side of the bed.
As I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, he surprises me, moving quickly to my side and off the bed. He stands before me, takes both my hands in his, and pulls me to a standing position.
“You will not frighten the servants,” he murmurs, drawing me to my dressing table and seating me before the mirror as he stands behind me.
“I will not?” I ask, taking up my brush and looking at his reflection in the glass, musing on the love that overwhelms me each time I realize my good fortune in marrying a man whom I adore.
He leans over to take the brush from my hands. “No, my love. First, because I will brush your hair for you, and second, because I have dismissed the servants from our suite. We will ring the bell if we have need of them.”
After Fitzwilliam finishes tidying my hair, he helps me don my dressing gown. He then crosses the room, opening the door to our sitting room, turning to me and gesturing for me to enter.
“You obviously have some game afoot, Mr. Darcy. What is so different about today?” I ask.
“Come and see for yourself,” he answers enigmatically.
As I enter the room, I am delighted by the sight of a small round table set for two, holding all of my favourite breakfast foods. Roses from the conservatory make a beautiful centerpiece, while to the right of my plate sits a silver box, designed to resemble a treasure chest.
My husband, ever the consummate gentleman, escorts me to the table and holds my chair for me. Instead of sitting across from me, he sits to my right, pulling his plate to his new position. I pour his morning coffee as he retrieves his utensils and then serves our plates.
While we eat, I observe a spark of excitement in his eyes, and I notice that he continually glances at the box. Eventually, as he knew it would, my curiosity gets the better of me, and I reach for the small chest. He quickly removes my plate so that I can place the box in front of me.
I cannot resist teasing him. “Fitzwilliam, this is a lovely little chest. Thank you, my love. It will hold all the letters you have written me like the treasures they are.”
He purses his full lips, trying not to betray his mirth.
“Elizabeth, you well know that the box is only a vessel for the present, though of course you may use it however you wish after you open it.”
He moves his plate and puts his elbow in its place, holding his chin in his hand, fixing his gaze upon me. What woman can resist such a man? Certainly not I.
“I will open the box if you will tell me why you are giving it to me. Why is today special?” I ask, kissing his cheek, backing away as he turns his head in an effort to capture my lips.
His voice holds a note of restrained patience which amuses me greatly. “The chest contains the answer to your question. Indulge me, you bewitching woman. Open the chest.”
Unable to disappoint my husband any longer, though I thoroughly enjoy bantering with him, I lift the small latch and open my gift. An envelope rests atop folded pieces of red paper which appear to bear my husband’s flowing, elegant script.
I look at my husband with a silent question.
“Open the envelope, my love,” he says, obviously eager for my reaction.
His fingers actually twitch toward the envelope when I pick it up myself. He rarely gets so excited.
Happy First Valentine’s Day of our marriage.
I love you more now than I did fifty days ago.
He avidly watches my expression as I read the note, and he appears vastly pleased by my reaction. However, he soon grows impatient for me to continue. Obviously, there are more surprises in the chest, and I am not exploring its contents quickly enough to suit him.
I select one folded paper and open it, reading aloud, “One foot massage given by FD.”
I glance at him, his tender expression warming my heart.
Setting the first one aside, I pick out another and read, “One ten-minute back rub by the hands of FD.”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise.
The third says, “A bath, to be administered by FD.”
Does my husband desire more intimacy? Perhaps caring for me fulfills a need in him.
The fourth, “A moonlit walk to the lake with FD.”
The fifth, “A private picnic in the grove with FD.”
The sixth, “Your hair washed by FD.”
The seventh, “A night under the stars in the conservatory with FD.”
I cannot stop myself from giggling a little, and I look to see an impish smile playing across the lips of my handsome husband.
“How many of these ‘gifts’ are there, my husband?” I ask.
“Fifty-five – one for each day we have been married. I ask only that you give me a few hours to plan some of them, such as the picnic. Most of them may be redeemed at any time of your choosing,” he replies, leaning in to kiss me soundly.
As his lips touch mine, I think of the wonderful, confusing, maddening, lovely, precious man I married, and I wonder at his romantic nature he has hidden so well.
I pull back a tiny bit to break away, saying, “Fitzwilliam, my family has never observed Valentine’s Day, and I have no present for you. What shall I give you?”
My husband appears to be ready for the question, for his answer is well-prepared. “One of the papers has a row of hearts on it. If you will ask for that today, it will answer exactly what I want,” he whispers.
I quickly plunder through the box and readily find the paper with the hearts. As I open it and read it, I feel the blush creeping up my neck and infusing my face.
He tilts his head, looking at me with one brow raised in question. “Well?”
I lift my eyes to his. “Most gladly, sir, for it is what I want as well.”
He scoops me up in his arms and strides back through our bedroom door.
“Happy Valentine’s Day to me, then,” he exclaims, nipping my ear as he kicks the door shut behind him.
⸟ﻬ⸞ﻬ⸟
The light of dawn broke through the split between the curtains, greeting Elizabeth with a new day. Stretching her arm to Darcy’s side of the bed, she found it still warm, so she quickly left the bed, fetched her robe, and brushed her hair, knowing her husband would be dressed and ready for breakfast within a few minutes.
Chapter Four
Husbands and wives generally understand when opposition will be vain.
Persuasion, Jane Austen
After sitting at breakfast with Darcy while he ate, Elizabeth, attired in her dressing gown, dark hair flowing around her shoulders, walked with him to the door. He bent to whisper in her ear, then kissed her sweetly before he left, riding his stallion, looking back to wave at her. Elizabeth lifted her hand to return the gesture, admiring the fit of his clothing and the way he sat his horse.
So tall and handsome, kind and good. Wonder of wonders, he truly loves me, even with all my faults. I am a blessed woman. She thought of him as she hurried back upstairs where Jenny waited to prepare her for a busy day.
As soon as she was suitably dressed, she went to her study, sat at her desk, and pulled her journal from a drawer. Dipping a quill in ink, she began to write, covering page after page
with her lovely, elegant script.
From time to time, she looked out the window, her mind wandering through her dreams of the last few nights.
He seemed to be quite happy in my dreams. Perhaps they should come true. I dreamt about a first kiss, but we have long passed that stage. However, the idea of winning a prize might be something he would like – if he can stay awake long enough. She giggled to herself. I fear he is too tired to play chess right now. He might fall into the chess set and put an eye out. I must think of a quick, simple game. Nothing physical, for he is weary enough.
She sifted the possibilities before settling on a plan. That done, she went to ask Mrs. Reynolds for her help.
⸟ﻬ⸞ﻬ⸟
Elizabeth was pleased to find the day was unseasonably warm and dry.
Near midday, she waited while Anderson saddled Patience for her, and together they crossed the extensive property of Pemberley.
As she crested Knob Hill, she spied Darcy standing by a fire. He turned and waved.
He is waiting for me. Her heart beat faster at the thought of her husband looking forward to her visit. She nudged Patience to a gallop, then reined in the mare as they approached her husband.
Darcy reached up to help her from her horse, lifting her to the ground with ease.
“I am so glad you learned to ride, though I hope Anderson will leave a few things for me to teach you,” he said, touching her cheek.
“Oh, I am certain I have much to learn,” she replied.
Anderson chuckled. “Indeed, sir. Mrs. Darcy canna yet test the full speed of her horse, and she must learn to stop Patience if she spooks.”
The head groom jumped down and removed the saddlebags from his horse, carrying them to the place the young couple had picnicked the day before.
Elizabeth sat by the fire, unpacking their luncheon and spreading one blanket for them to sit on as well as another for their food. After she placed sandwiches and fruit on plates, she put a square wooden tray in the space between the dishes.
Darcy sat where she directed, leaning back on one elbow, legs stretched out in front of him, turning his lively green eyes to her. “I can practically see the cogs turning in your mind. If we could harness that energy, we likely could find some way to heat the house without fireplaces. I have heard of a great inventor of such things who lived overseas. Mr. Benjamin Franklin would have been fascinated by you, and as he is deceased, I would not resent it. What scheme have you thought of now?”
Elizabeth laughed. “I thought you might like to play while we eat.”
She reached inside one of the saddlebags and retrieved a wooden box, sitting down and placing it in front of them on the tray. “Remember these?”
He smiled so widely, she saw his dimples.
Beautiful, sweet husband. I would kiss him soundly if there were not so many men around us.
She held out the box to him. “Would you like to play a game?”
“Is that my spillikins set?” Darcy laughed aloud. “Wherever did you find that? I have not seen it for many years.”
“I cannot reveal my sources, you know,” she replied impishly as she removed her gloves and set them aside.
“Are you as good at spillikins as you are at chess?”
She lowered her eyes. “You shall have to play me to find that out. Should we wager on the outcome?”
“You have my full attention,” he answered. “Would you like a shopping trip in London, a new bonnet, a piece of jewelry, perhaps? Name your wager.”
Elizabeth lifted her lashes, revealing the sparkle in her eyes. “What I want will cost no money. If I win, I want Saturday morning reserved for the two of us.”
His face fell. “I have neglected you,” he said in a low voice.
She reached for his hand. “No, no! I am not saying that, my love. I would have you rest a bit. Sleep late. I worry that you are stretching yourself too thin. I am concerned for your health.”
“You are kind, Elizabeth. Most women would have rebelled long before now.”
She lifted his chin with her hand, turning his face to hers. “This is not very diverting. Shall I ask for a different prize?”
He shook his head. “You call me out on my bad behaviour, and I love you for it. No, you shall have Saturday morning if I lose, but if I win, you must come with me.”
“Then I will be happy either way, for I will spend Saturday with you. Eat your food while I set up the game,” she ordered.
Darcy took a bite of his apple. “Yes, dear.”
She arched a brow at him. “Do not be saucy with me, sir. Here is your hook. You may go first.”
Elizabeth dumped the sticks into a tangled pile, looking at him with a challenge in her eyes.
He smirked at her. “Are you certain you would not rather play a different game? I have hardly ever lost a game of spillikins.”
“So I have heard. Let this be one of those rare occasions.”
Darcy used his hook to remove a single stick from the cluster without causing any other stick to move. He then tried to separate another from the pile but was unsuccessful.
“Your turn,” he said, taking another bite of his apple.
Elizabeth knit her brows in concentration, taking advantage of his failed attempt by moving the stick which caused Darcy to lose his turn.
She looked up with a wide grin. “We are tied! Now, I must see if I can take the lead.”
He watched her closely, his sunny smile distracting her so much that she hit a second stick, losing her turn.
“I should not have allowed you to cut up my peace, husband. Your smile is far too distracting, but perhaps I can steal your attention as well as you stole mine.”
“We shall see,” he replied, leaning over the tangled sticks with his hook. “I think I can withstand your lovely face, as long as I do not look at you.”
Just as he was moving the piece, Elizabeth stroked his cheek with the back of her fingers.
He dropped his hook, pressing his lips together, amused. “You are such a little cheater. Two can play at that.”
This shall be much more interesting, she thought. “Do you think I cannot withstand your charms? I believe I can hold my own.”
“Challenge accepted,” he answered with good humour.
She glanced up at him just as the wind ruffled his dark hair, causing a wayward curl to fall over his forehead.
Elizabeth sighed. I fear I shall lose this battle, but I fully intend to win the war.
She held her hook steady as she moved it to touch her target. Just as she was about to accomplish her goal, he leaned over, whispering softly, “I love you.”
His face was so close to her lips – she simply could not resist the temptation. Elizabeth turned her head to peck his cheek, and her hand slipped from its position. She hit more than one stick.
“My turn,” he crooned, moving quickly to achieve his goal. He won two sticks before he missed again.
The game continued for the next half hour, and at the end of it, husband and wife were tied. He swallowed the final bite of his food. “How shall we break the tie?”
She lifted her fingers to her chin. “We could each have a riddle ready tonight. Whoever solves the other’s riddle first wins. Or, we could compromise. If you agree that both of us shall have a late rising Saturday, I shall go with you to see how the work is progressing.”
“A riddle? I like the idea. If we both solve the riddles, we can follow your plan for a compromise. I am quite enjoying spending more time with my intelligent lady.”
He helped her pack everything back into the saddlebags and handed them to Anderson. While the older man busied himself with preparing for the ride back to the manor house, Darcy put his hands together, fingers entwined, to give Elizabeth a step to mount her horse. When she was seated safely on Patience, he took her hand, turning it over to press his lips to her palm.
She smiled before she turned Patience towards Knob Hill and rode away. At the top of the hill, she looked back at him. Th
e gentleman stood watching her as she rode away
⸟ﻬ⸞ﻬ⸟
Elizabeth could sense his excitement as they sat together at dinner.
He must have a good riddle. His eyes are sparkling, so he thinks he will win.
“Do you have a riddle for me?” she asked.
“I do, indeed,” he replied. “Listen carefully.”
She collected the pencil and paper she had placed on the table, ready to write. “Amaze me.”
He began to recite.
“You witness in my beauteous first
The wonders of creation;
My next is blessed or accurst,
As he fulfills his station:
My total dances round the year;
The present soon will disappear.”
Darcy repeated the riddle twice more as she wrote it down.
She handed paper and pencil to him. “Are you ready for mine?” He nodded, and she posed her puzzle.
“My first descends from yon eternal skies;
A winged weapon from my second flies;
And in my whole these colors may be seen,
Yellow and blue, as well as red and green.”
“Do you know the answer to mine?” he asked. “I shall readily admit I need to think a bit before solving yours.”
“I need some time as well. Shall we trade answers over breakfast in the morning?”
“I am tired, and I need to sleep,” he answered. “If I have to answer in the morning, I shall certainly lose. Could you wait until you come to me at midday?”
He expects me to be there every day now. This is progress indeed. He desires my company.
She nodded. “Of course, my love. I would have this be a fair contest. I would be a true cheater if I took advantage of your state of exhaustion.”
Darcy chuckled. “And we both know you would never cheat.”
“Again, with your saucy self!” she admonished. “Am I truly a cheat? Did I bamboozle you into marriage? I hope you do not regret it.”
“What a bag of moonshine!” he exclaimed, eyes shining with mirth. “That boot is quite on the other foot, for you did not wish to marry me when I first made you an offer. It is far more likely that I worked as best as I could to win your hand.”