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Chapter 36. Trading Confidences.

Posted on 2011-01-13

September 1818

One Friday morning, less than a week before their wedding, the two Netherfield gentlemen arrived at Longbourn to find their beloveds in a decidedly odd mood. Breakfast took longer than usual, although little food appeared to be actually consumed. When Bingley suggested a walk to Oakham Mount to take advantage of the beautiful day, the sisters blushed and looked to each other before Elizabeth eventually answered in the affirmative.

Darcy noted the pause and wondered, then determined to ask Elizabeth during their walk. He felt that the marriage he had always dreamt of was within his grasp--a passionate love coupled with friendship and an intellectual meeting of minds--and he was determined not to allow his own natural reticence to drive a wedge between them through lack of communication. He was desperate for a life partner--someone with whom he could talk over his troubles and successes without concern for losing their regard, and whom he could trust would do the same with him.

So it was that after about a mile of the sisters walking arm in arm, leaving their gentlemen to walk behind them, a stile necessitated that they part and William managed a shift in the walking party's pairings. After affirming that Bingley had successfully assisted Miss Bennet down off the fencing with a comment about angels alighting on Earth, Darcy tucked Elizabeth's hand around his arm and moved ahead on the track. Great walkers both, he and Elizabeth had long come to a mutually comfortable pace (one which Miss Bingley would not have found consistent with her view of an accomplished lady, but which William most decidedly did). Darcy introduced the topic of a recent letter from his Uncle James, and they soon outstripped the other pair.

Darcy's first concern was that his family had done something anew to discomfit Elizabeth. He found it ironic that he might ever have assumed that, because members of his family were accustomed to higher circles of society than the Bennets, they would automatically display better manners. Although the current Earl and his wife had embraced Elizabeth after meeting her in London, he knew the Viscount's wife was not above attempting to needle his bride in her desire to establish herself as the society power of the younger generation. However, Elizabeth had shown herself fully capable of handling Lady Almida during their time in London, and he doubted that the Viscountess would attempt anything vicious through the post. This left his Aunt Catherine. He grimaced.

"I have not heard anything from Rosings since replying to Aunt Catherine's piece of vitriol last week. She has not written to you, has she?"

Elizabeth smiled crookedly. "No, though if you wish for news from Kent I did receive a letter from Charlotte yesterday and my father receives regular epistles from Mr. Collins."

When he indicated his interest, she shrugged, "Apparently Lady Catherine's ire is voiced daily to her humble clergyman, so I prefer to leave his letters to my father. Though Miss de Bourgh has returned to Rosings, it does not seem to have diminished her mother's fury."

Lizzy smirked. "But reading between the lines, I think Charlotte believes that it will blow over sooner rather than later. Lady Catherine can do nothing to stop our marriage and once she gets over the disappointment in her plans, she will fall back on her practical nature and formulate a new plan, acting as though it was always her goal."

Darcy's eyes had widened during this recital of the workings of his relations' minds. "Mrs. Collins said all this in her letter?"

"Oh, Charlotte would never be as indiscrete as to pen such things. She merely told me of how Lady Catherine recently had to alter her long-standing plan of formalizing one of the gardens at Rosings because a very tall tree planted by her sister, Lady Anne, could not be moved." Elizabeth's eyes twinkled.

"Ah…" William smiled, both at the story and at Elizabeth's happier mood. For a time they walked in companionable silence, broken by slight observations on noteworthy flowers and birds, until they reached the top of Oakham Mount. The highest point in a county of low rolling hills, it had been the site of fortifications since ancient times. In the more peaceful present, the walls had been left to ruin, leaving a jumble of limestone blocks. Lizzy had been climbing Oakham Mount all her life, and guided her beau to a favorite perch where several large blocks together formed a comfortable bench with an attractive vista.

As the pair settled to enjoy the blue sky and rolling green hills speckled with grazing cows, Darcy took a deep breath and made a resolution. Elizabeth's mood had lifted, but he sensed that whatever had upset the Bennet sisters earlier was something that they should discuss. He did not want his natural reticence in society to carry over into his marriage--in fact one of the things that had so convinced him that Elizabeth was better than any high society lady as his wife was the way she refused to let him use his reserve as a shield to avoid speaking of unpleasant news or feelings with her. Their relationship was solid in large part because Elizabeth used her sparkling wit and teasing archness to draw him out. He understood intuitively that he could not always rely on her to make this connection--he must also find a way to draw her out when she was troubled.

With this resolve, he put his gloves in his hat and set them aside, then picked up Elizabeth's hand and cradled it between his. When she looked up with a smile, he rubbed her palm with his thumb. "Something was troubling you and your sister earlier."

When Elizabeth coloured and looked down at her feet, he knew he had been correct. He felt her begin to withdraw her hand and held on tighter. "Please Elizabeth, talk to me. Is it your mother? I thought that we agreed to see only the good. She loves you, and soon she will be my mother as well."

Darcy was pleased to see Elizabeth glance up at him and smirk. "No sir… I stand by our agreement to not judge each other based on the actions of our relations." She sighed, then reached up to undo her bonnet and slid it off. In her angst that morning she had tied it much too tightly and the ribbons were cutting into her chin.

Looking out across the landscape, she sighed again when Darcy moved his hand back to clasp hers. "Oh very well, but prepare yourself. It was my mother, but probably not as you are thinking. Dearest Mama decided last night after you gentlemen left that it was high time to explain to Jane and myself what to expect of… erm… marital relations… what to expect of a husband."

At this, Darcy jerked his glance away from her lovely face and began studying the landscape him self, feeling a blush rising on his own face. "Ah… ah… I, err, see."

His obvious discomfiture lightened Elizabeth's embarrassment. "Oh, it wasn't the anatomy, or the act that so disturbed us. We are country girls, after all--we grew up with livestock and, well… my father has always allowed us freedom in his library and he has a few rather explicit medical texts." Darcy squelched a sudden desire to laugh hysterically--what could he say? Particularly given that much of his own early knowledge on the subject had came from similar sources.

"Then, well… it is a bit embarrassing and I expect you shall be thoroughly scandalized. Once when I was twelve and Jane thirteen or so, we went for a walk. It was a lovely summer day and cook had packed some treats so that we could have a bit of a picnic. We were well off the main trails, heading for a picturesque glade by the creek surrounded by birch trees--I remember being excited because there was an old plum tree there and I was hoping the fruit would be ripe." Darcy squeezed her hand, smiling with the delightful vision of her childhood.

"Well… as we neared the creek, we heard some rather strange noises. Perhaps vocalizations would be the correct term?" She cocked her eyebrow at him. "For clearly they were human. So, we did what I expect most children would do--hid behind some shrubbery and peaked." At this, Darcy's embarrassment over the topic combined with his agreement with her estimation of the curiosity of children and he could barely suppress a guffaw quite out of keeping with the usual controlled Master of Pemberley.

"It was the son of one of Longbourn's tenants and a dairymaid. I'm afraid we peaked for several minutes, until things reached… well, something of a crescendo. Upon which, Jane recovered her senses enough to realize that such peeping was absolutely not ladylike behavior and she fairly dragged me back home. We quite forgot our picnic, I'm afraid. Two months later the couple married, and a few months after that, the maid had a lovely baby boy. That was about the time that I became quite interested in some books my father kept up on his top shelf."

Elizabeth turned to Darcy. "There now. Have I quite shocked you with my immodesty?" Though her tone was light, he saw the anxiety in her eyes and knew his response would affect her tendency to share her heart's secrets with him in the future. Putting his left arm around her shoulders, he drew her to him and kissed her forehead before looking deeply into her eyes.

"Oh, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. How could I possibly condemn you when so much of my own knowledge on the subject came from almost identical experiences." At her shocked look, he smirked. "Much of Derbyshire's landscape is so rough that it is better used for grazing sheep than agriculture. And Pemberley has a large stable--my father involved me in keeping the breeding records from a young age; not a chore as I've always loved horses." Darcy kissed Lizzy's brow again and squeezed her shoulders, seeing the lines on her forehead relax.

Unfortunately, the anxiety seemed to have transferred to him. Mentioning his father in conjunction with the subject matter had brought an old memory and pain to mind, ones that he had never shared with anyone. Feeling Elizabeth relax in the crook of his arm with her head rested against his shoulder, he looked out across the landscape and pondered.

"I think that, of everything that Mama said last night, it was not her attempt at describing the act that upset Jane and I the most, but what she said next. She told us that we must expect men of such wealth and society as you and Mr. Bingley to keep mistresses, or to visit prostitutes and dancing girls… or both. That we must accept it and never fuss or protest. That after we take care to have several sons, we should even encourage our husbands to take their interests elsewhere." Elizabeth turned to Darcy, but could not bring herself to look above his cravat. As such, she missed the storm brewing in his eyes.

She rubbed her hands together. "Oh William! I… I do not think that I could… share… you in such a way."

At this, the storm cloud dissolved and Darcy wrapped his arms around her and murmured hoarsely in her ear "Oh, my Lizzy. I would never ask you to. I would never do such a thing to you. You are the only one I want. The only one I shall ever need." He pulled back enough to kiss her lightly on the lips, seeing her eyes watery but sparkling with love. He kissed her lips again, and then as their passion rose with their newfound understanding, lips met and eyes closed.

Lizzy's left hand moved up to clasp his neck and then riffle through his dark curls even as her other found its way under his coat and around his back. Will's arm firmly encircled her waist, pulling her closer while his right hand seemed to move with a will of its own, first to her hair, then her jaw and neck… her shoulder and the bare arm revealed by her short-sleeved summer dress. Their lips parted for a moment as he moved down to kiss the exposed neck just below her ear-- a spot that had drawn him from their earliest acquaintance.

As Elizabeth's head rolled back involuntarily to give him greater access, her right hand moved lower on his back, finding the spot where his vest had ridden up and nothing but the thin linen of his shirt separated her hand from his skin. As her hand explored the contours of his back, her fingers tucked just inside the top of his trousers.

The effect on Darcy was immediate. His lips moved back to demand hers, and he plundered her mouth with all the fervor of a young lover. His hand moved upward to cup her breast and Lizzy tilted her head back with a low moan of pleasure. "Oh Will…"

This lit a brief moment of clarity in Darcy's passion-fogged mind. Panting, he rested his forehead on hers and unhappily moved his hand to a safer location. "Oh my love. My dearest Lizzy. We must stop. You must make me stop. I… you… we must not go any further before… before the wedding… Oh, my dearest heart…"

As Lizzy regained some of her own composure, her sparkling eyes looked into his and she recognized all the passionate desire and love that she had ever dreamed of finding in a man. She moved her hands to rest on his shoulders and smiled dreamily. "My Will, my dearest love."

With that, Darcy closed his eyes, breathed deeply, then kissed her forehead and quickly stood, moving to walk around the flat area of the peak and recover the shreds of his own equanimity.

After some minutes Darcy regained some of his calm in mind and body, and moved back to rejoin Elizabeth where she still sat, looking out across the fields of her father's estate. He sat beside her and clasped her hand again, although leaving a few inches between their bodies. "I want to tell you… Your story brought to mind a memory, one I have never shared with anyone. It is a painful one for me, and something that… well… no one with any shred of breeding would ever consider appropriate for a young lady's ears. But I treasure our honesty. I… I would tell you--will you permit me?"

His insecurities, usually hidden by a carefully constructed façade, showed clearly to Elizabeth. She nodded her assent quietly and squeezed his hand, understanding intuitively that he needed only her quiet encouragement.

"Thank you," Darcy breathed, his throat suddenly feeling constricted. He looked across the landscape seeing little, but absolutely aware of the comforting hand secure in his own. He took a few moments to organize his thoughts and then began.

"I was eight, and it was a rather bleak fall day at Pemberley--- a cold rain had been falling for days making any activity outdoors unappealing. When lessons were done, Richard, George and I decided to play hide and seek in the house--we had played explorers countless times and were quite at home with the servants' passages, hidden doors, and such."

Seeing Elizabeth's amused look change to surprise, he added, "What Wickham told you about our being childhood companions was quite true. At ten, his tendency was just to be a bit of a scamp, which simply made him an exciting playmate at that age. Old Mr. Wickham was an excellent man and had a good influence while he was alive. I suppose George's immoral tendencies were always there, but in those days it just meant that he was particularly good at charming sweets from the cook between meals."

Elizabeth smiled, pleased with the glimpse into her lover's boyhood before so many responsibilities had been heaped on his shoulders.

"Anyway, I was looking to hide and had thought of a particularly large wardrobe in a small spare room of the guest wing. I… well… I was doing my best to climb the servant's stairs as quietly as I could, and there was a hidden door to the room at the top of the stairs, just before the passage opened on to the main hallway. I thought I heard a voice, so I cracked open the door just enough that I could peek in to the bedchamber. I suppose I expected to see one of the maids cleaning, or at worst one of the other boys had beaten me to my hiding spot."

Darcy paused to raise Elizabeth's hand to his lips and kiss her knuckles, then held their clasped hands tightly to his chest, bending over them as though in pain. Elizabeth stayed quiet, understanding his need to tell the story at his own pace.

"It wasn't. It was my governess and my father." Darcy squeezed his eyes shut but the image would not disappear. "I was shocked. I closed the door as silently as I had opened it and ran back to my own room, curling up in a window seat behind some drapes." Trying to lighten the atmosphere for a moment, Darcy attempted a grin. "It turned out to be a brilliant hiding place… Richard didn't find me for hours."

"Oh Will… I'm so sorry. My parents often don't get along, but I can't even imagine seeing one of them so…" Elizabeth brought her other hand to rub his arm in comfort, and then joined it with their hands still clasped to his chest.

William spoke softly, staring out over the landscape. "People are fools when they say that children don't understand such things. I knew precisely what was happening the instant I saw them. It was like a bolt of lightening across the sky… Suddenly I understood the sad look on my mother's face when she would return from a ball or party in London without my father. She would always say that he had gone to his club, but even without knowing that there were such things as brothels or courtesans, I knew. At Pemberley, some evenings he would leave her alone after supper, saying he had business matters to see to. She would take me with her to the music room and have me sit beside her at the pianoforte. I remember how her playing always reflected her moods--it could be so light and bubbling and joyful when she was happy… but those evenings her music always seemed so sad."

By this point, Elizabeth had tears in her own eyes and Darcy was holding her hand so tightly that it was beginning to hurt. She rubbed her hand along his sleeve again to sooth him and rested her head against his shoulder, willing him to sense her love and sympathy. His hand loosened and he shifted to kiss her brow, then rested his cheek against her hair. Gruffly, he finally articulated the reassurance he had wished to give her when she first spoke of her mother's words.

"Elizabeth; I saw the pain that my father's infidelity caused my mother. I swear to you, I will never do such a thing to you. It may not be Society's convention, but I have no… desire for anything but you, as my wife."

Elizabeth raised her head to smile into his eyes, saying softly, "Thank you." They kissed lightly, more to reassure each other than from any great passion of the moment. They turned back to the landscape and simultaneously drew and released deep breaths, causing the couple to look sideways at each other and chuckle as the anxiety dissipated. Elizabeth lifted their clasped hands and then let them drop back onto Will's knee.

"Thank you, not only for the reassurance, but also for the story. I know it was not easy for you to share, but I am glad I heard it. It makes me realize that, though you have been forcibly immersed in my own family, for better or worse, I really know very little of yours… of your childhood. But then, I suppose I could simply spend some time with Mrs. Reynolds and Colonel Fitzwilliam--I rather believe that they might oblige me with stories of young Master Darcy's mischiefs."

William grinned widely at her threat, loving her easy way of inviting him to open up, but also appreciating her natural instinct to ease the tone their serious conversation with a bit of levity. "Pax, pax, Madam. I shall tell you anything you wish. I fear I must, as any version Richard might tell would be exaggerated ten-fold."

"And Mrs. Reynolds?" Elizabeth inquired teasingly.

"Hmmm... Mrs. Reynolds can barely remember that I'm no longer in short pants as it is, so I would greatly appreciate it if you would not encourage her to dredge up memories from when I was. Next she'd be back to telling me that I can't have any pudding if I don't finish my vegetables."

Elizabeth giggled happily at his mock-suffering tone. When had she ever thought this man so grim and serious that he was unable to smile, let alone laugh?

Darcy stood and held out his hand to help her rise. "All in good time, my dear. For now I believe that we had best begin our trek back to Longbourn before your father sends out a search party."

Elizabeth smiled knowingly at his evasion but rose and moved with him to descend the broken blocks of the old wall. They were silent as they climbed down the roughest portion of the path. Darcy felt as wrung out as he did after a morning of fencing practice at his athletic club. Elizabeth's spirits, however, were rapidly rising as her quick mind reviewed the morning's revelations. As they reached a flatter section of the path, she turned to him and without a thought, asked, "So have you?" At Darcy's confused look, she added, "Have you… well, have you done it?"

Suddenly realizing precisely what his lively and inquisitive fiancé was asking him, Darcy blushed a brilliant scarlet from head to toe. He turned slightly away from her and raised his hands to cover his face, which only caused Elizabeth to note in amusement that even his ears had reddened with embarrassment.

"Oh Lord, Lizzy. You can't possibly mean to ask such a question! Or for me to answer?"

"Well… yes, I did. And do. It seems a fairly logical follow up to our previous conversation." Dropping the teasing tone from her voice, she reached to lay her hand on his arm and said more quietly, "We are to be married in less than a week, William. I… I would like to know, if you would tell me. I will not judge you either way. It is all just so unknown to me, and I trust you…"

Fitzwilliam Darcy would have never, ever have dreamed of sharing such intimate information with anyone, even his cousin Richard, let alone a young lady. But somehow Elizabeth's quiet plea combined with a morning of opening himself to her led him to acquiesce. He led her away from the trail to a fallen tree and laid his coat across the log so that she might sit.

"Very well. You might as well prepare yourself as it is another rather long story."

Elizabeth nodded and sat, keeping to herself the thought that William was much like Jane in some ways--bottling up his emotions until he let them out in a flood of revelations.

Darcy paced for some moments, then came to a halt a few feet before her, bracing his arm to lean against a tree and stubbing his toe on a tuft of grass. "Bother, I don't even know how to start. Well, it was 1811 and I'd just finished at Cambridge and then come of age a week later. My father and I were in London, and my Aunt and Uncle Fitzwilliam hosted a party in my honor. Father and I spent many hours with the family solicitors and bankers, finalizing all the paperwork that settled various inheritances on me and formalized my rights as his heir. I'd been awarded several academic prizes at graduation and had won the fencing tournament against Oxford, so all in all I was feeling rather full of myself. I was twenty-one it and felt as if I were king of the world." Darcy sighed softly at the memory and kicked at the grass again.

Elizabeth was listening raptly, building a picture of yet another stage in the growth of her lover's personality. A time when he had been a young man, surviving the loss of his mother but recovering his spirits enough to begin to enjoy life again.

William absently brushed a fly from his coat and continued; "After the Fitzwilliams' party, my father returned to Pemberley but urged me to remain in London for a time and enjoy myself. I'd studied hard and it felt rather like a cork popping out of a bottle of champagne. You must understand, I've never been anything wild or profligate. I'm afraid I had the reputation of being quite the dullest chap in our college--ask Bingley--and in many ways I was quite naïve, despite having shared rooms with Wickham. I'd parted company with him in our first term after seeing that there was no way to curb his licentious behavior. My devotion to my books was in part a conscious effort to separate myself from him and his… activities.

"But I digress. After Father left London, I let myself get caught up in the swirl of the High Season. That is the only time in my life that I ever lost my habit of rising with the sun. It seemed as if there were parties and balls to attend every moment of the day or night." Seeing Elizabeth's quizzical smile, he laughed lightly.

"Yes, I danced. I've never been comfortable in large gatherings or with strangers--shyness is a trait Georgiana and I are both plagued with. But the ladies were so forward that I barely had to say anything. So I enjoyed the glitter and the attention without taking much of it seriously. I knew enough to keep out of trouble, but I hadn't become the deeply suspicious cynic that you were confronted with upon our first meeting." The two smiled at each other, grateful for their present understanding.

"And Richard generally looked out for me and kept me from gatherings where anything outrageous was likely to occur. I remember several occasions when I opened the morning newspaper and read an account of a scandal that occurred the night before at a party I'd considered attending until Richard guided me away. He's a year older than I and had spent considerably more time in London, so knew the ins and outs of society much better. Also, as a second son, I think he often saw a side of people's characters that they hid from me, my father's heir. Sometimes I hate it, you know?"

Elizabeth smiled softly and nodded in understanding. William smiled back, then drew a breath and moved to sit beside her on the log, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his knees, his hands clasped.

"Looking back now, it seems more like remembering a nightmare. One evening, Richard had to attend some military function. His elder brother Edward invited me to join him at his club. His was the fast set of lordlings and elder sons-- I was flattered to be invited among them and ended up drinking rather a lot more than I had ever before, trying to keep up with them, I suppose.

"In hindsight I'm fairly certain that they were taking turns to get me as liquored up as possible. We played cards and billiards in a private room at Boodles as various friends and acquaintances came and went. As the group began to get more raucous, plans were discussed to move to various other locations and continue the revelry. At that point it was late, I was more inebriated than I had ever been in my life, and I began to think longingly of home and bed. I remember saying such to my cousin and him laughing and pulling me into a hansom, promising that he'd see that I was tucked into bed properly.

"The rest of the group had spread themselves among several other rented hansoms and I remember quite a bit of laughter as they attempted to get the drivers to race. We arrived at a house in Mayfair and everyone tumbled out and went in. I thought of saying good night and directing the hansom back to my own home, but my cousin prodded me again and I didn't want to offend him, so I went along. I thought that the house belonged to one of the gentlemen in our group, but the room we settled in seemed like a cross between a drawing room and a gentlemen's den. While my cousin was encouraging me to drink some sort of liquor sweetened with fruit juice and the other gentlemen were helping themselves to port, brandy, cigars and who knows what else, a number of ladies entered the room and began greeting them like old friends. Two ladies came to join my cousin and I… and Edward introduced me, using their first names.

"One had such large… bosoms… that I could barely raise my eyes to her face. My only defense is that her dress was exceedingly low cut, and I was exceedingly inebriated. Seeing my distraction, Edward encouraged me to go with her, saying that she would see me to a bed and make sure I was "properly tucked in." I'm quite certain he was laughing as I left the room.

"You can probably guess what happened. The next thing I knew, we were alone in a bedchamber and she had nothing but a very thin, small… err… nightshirt on. I think I sat down on the bed out of pure shock. Then she came to stand in front of me and began unbuttoning my coat and untying my cravat. It was all done very quickly and I was so shocked and tongue tied that I could barely say a word, let alone inform her that I hadn't asked for this particular type of "tucking in." And I couldn't stand up or get around her without… well, without touching various parts of the female form that I'd been taught to not even look at, let alone touch with my bare hands.

"So, while my alcohol-fogged brain was desperately trying to work out a way to politely excuse myself from the situation while maintaining my dignity and without injuring the lady's feelings…" He caught the soft chuckle from Elizabeth that reassured him enough to continue with the tale.

"… she was down to untucking my shirt and drawing it up over my head. I had been leaning farther and farther back to keep some distance between us, and at that point I finally collapsed back on the bed, with her quite on top of me, my face pressed into her… bosoms, now quite uncovered. It is… err… very difficult… for a man to keep his mind on escaping when in… err… such a position."

Elizabeth couldn't control a short giggle from escaping, but did her best to remain silent and resist all the witty comments that popped to mind.

Will sighed and continued. "So there I was, lying on my back, arms tangled in a shirt which seemed to be knotted up over my head, my face pressed into this lady's bosom--I had quite forgotten her name, which seemed excessively important at the time--when I started to feel her hand moving down my chest, to my waist, and beginning to undo the front of my breeches. I remember her saying something to the effect of "Oh dearie, you are a handsome one, aren't you" and then… well… she began… caressing me, down there… and I really lost all sense of protest or thought or… well… dignity after that."

Darcy suddenly snapped back to the present and realized what he had just related, and to his fiancé of all people. He buried his face in his hands, groaning in anguished embarrassment.

Elizabeth paused a moment to steady herself, then moved her hand to rub his back, saying quietly. "It's alright, Will. Finish the story. I want to hear it. And I think you need to tell it to me." He groaned.

"After… well… after. I must have dozed for a few moments, because the next thing I remember, I was alone in the bed and someone was pounding on the door. It still seemed like some sort of surreal dream when Richard burst in and said "Darcy! Finally--thank God I found you. We must leave immediately." I was in a rather embarrassing situation, my wrists still knotted up in my tangled shirt, my breeches down about my ankles, and naught but a sheet across me. Thankfully he gave me a moment to put myself to rights before he dragged me off to the carriage he had waiting. I don't think either of us said a word. I was too busy trying to sort out what exactly had occurred that night and pull together some shred of dignity. And I suppose Richard was trying to decide how best to tell me… the news."

Elizabeth looked up at the change in his tone, from embarrassed to serious.

"Richard got me home and took me up to my chambers himself, not leaving me until my valet took over and got me into a hot bath. Once I was dressed in clean clothes and returned to my sitting room, Richard was waiting by the fire for me with hot coffee and dry toast. At that point, I was more… sentient… but really all I wanted to do was go to bed and sleep for several days, and preferably just forget the entire episode. I fear I unleashed some of this ill temper on Richard. I'll never forget the way he looked at me sadly, then just told me to sit down and drink the coffee he poured for me. I did so, out of shock if nothing else, but after a few moments I noticed that my valet was directing a footman to take my traveling case down stairs.

"Seeing the question in my face, Richard sighed and took the cup from my hands. Then looked at me with a worried look in his eyes. 'Wills, this is going to be hard. I'm here to take you back to Pemberley. There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just tell you straight out. We received an express a few hours ago that your father has taken ill. It's his heart, and he may not recover.'"

Remembering the scene, Darcy rubbed his face with his hands. "Oh Lizzy, it was like a bucket of ice water had been thrown on me. My father had his faults, but he taught me so much… my duty to the people dependant on Pemberley and the villages… That, with all the trappings of the Darcy wealth and connections, in the end I was really just a farmer. That though I might have people doing the work for me, I still needed to know what it was like to get my hands dirty… to know how they lived and what they were going through. I'm not explaining this very well."

Tears had welled up in Elizabeth's eyes upon hearing of his father's illness, and she rubbed his back in an attempt at comfort. "You are explaining it extremely well. Having seen you at Pemberley, how you care for the tenants and servants, and how they care for you, I understand."

He touched her hand and whispered, "Thank you." Then he took another great, rasping breath… it felt as though someone had welded iron barrel hoops around his chest. "Well. So Richard got me sorted out and into the carriage headed for Derbyshire as fast as possible. I'm not sure if I slept or not--it all seemed like the haze of a nightmare. I've never been so grateful for Richard's friendship as I was over those hours. We drove through the night--he'd arranged for fresh teams of horses to be ready for us at switching stations along the way--but it still took days to reach Pemberley. As we drove up to the house, I remember thinking that there were odd shadows on the front portico… then realizing that they weren't shadows, but black bunting for mourning. I was too late… my father had already died."

Understanding intuitively that he blamed himself for not being at his father's side, Elizabeth continued rubbing his back. "Oh Will. It is not your fault. If it was his heart, it might have happened at any time, at any place. You could not have known, any more than he did. We must accept that such things are in the Lord's hands."

At this, Darcy made an odd sort of grimace without meeting her eyes. After some minutes of silence, he made a decision and squeezed her hand before standing and pacing before her. "Elizabeth. I've felt so alone for so long. I've longed for someone with whom I can trust my heart with… someone with whom I can share everything with, the good and the bad. I… I want to tell you something I've never shared with anyone. Not even Georgiana or Richard."

When he finally turned to meet her eyes, he saw that they were shining with a love as deep as he ever could have desired. Nodding to himself, he moved to sit at her feet, his back to the log and soon felt the comfort of her fingers moving through his hair.

"My mother loved lily of the valley. I remember she always had a vase of the flowers on her vanity. She and the gardener worked out a way to coax the bulbs to bloom in the conservatory during the winter so that there were fresh flowers year round. Because she always had them around, all of us children were taught from a young age that the water from a vase of lily of the valley was as deadly a poison as hemlock. After the fever at Pemberley… after my mother died… my father couldn't stand the scent and had all the plants removed from the conservatory. There are still some growing wild around a bench by the lake where my mother loved to sit, but they were never again brought into the house or used in arrangements.

"I was only ten when she died, but in hindsight I believe my father went a little mad. Even with his infidelities, she was his wife, and she had died at Pemberley trying to manage the crisis while he had been away at Matlock, visiting with his friends and doing who knows what. I… I believe that he carried the guilt of having failed in his responsibilities… his duty to safeguard his family and all the people dependant on him as Master. So many people died from the small pox that summer…

"After the epidemic, he was different. Gone was the jovial, gregarious man I remember from my childhood. He no longer socialized and rarely even smiled, let alone the deep belly laugh I remember from before. He threw himself into work. I was sent to school after the year of mourning was over. In all that year, and really any time we were together after, the only thing I remember him talking to me about were matters of the estate--management, planning, history… and above all the duties of being a Darcy, Master of Pemberley.

"Georgiana once told me that he would occasionally come to the music room when she was practicing but rarely said anything. He would just sit there, staring into space. It frightened her--somehow she got the idea that if she displeased him she would be sent away too. I suppose that is why I am so protective of her. In some ways, she has been an orphan since Mother died."

Darcy took a deep breath. It was time to tell the worst. He knew Elizabeth would understand and comfort him, but to put it all into words felt akin to eating glass. "So, my father had banished lily of the valley from the house because the smell reminded him of her… of… everything. But that day, after Richard and I arrived to find that he had already died… I went up to his bedchamber where he had been found. And on his bedside table was a small vase with lily of the valley… but no water."

At this point, tears were falling freely and Will pressed his face against Elizabeth's side like a small child. He felt her arms wrap around his shoulders and draw him even closer, her cheek resting on the top of his head. "Oh William…. I'm so sorry. My love… my poor, dearest love. What a burden for you to carry alone. But is it certain, absolutely certain that it was suicide?"

"I questioned the doctor that attended him but did not want to raise any suspicions. He called it a seizure of the heart… but I compared the symptoms that he described to those listed for the poison in a medical text and they were consistent. And when I think of his actions over that last month… he had seemed, if not happier, then lighter somehow. Relieved. He told me several times that he was proud of me and that I would make an excellent Master of Pemberley. Oh Elizabeth… all that business in London with the bankers and solicitors … it wasn't simply the usual matters of an heir coming of age… My father was settling his affairs and making certain that my inheritance would go smoothly. He arranged for Georgiana to visit our Fitzwilliam relations, made certain that I was occupied in London, and then he went home alone to Pemberley to die."

"Oh William…" Elizabeth could think of nothing to say… no comforting words that would not sound trite after a revelation of so much pain. So she opted to say nothing and just hold him as he sobbed into her dress, his arms wrapped around her legs like a young boy.

They sat thus for some time. It seemed as though even the woodland creatures were silent in sympathy. Even as Darcy's deep, wracking sobs quieted and his tears ebbed, they held each other silently. He marveled at how such a thing could be so comforting… even her fingers smoothing his curls back from his brow made him feel safer than he could ever remember.

While William recovered from his confessions, Elizabeth contemplated the revelations in light of what she already knew of his family. After some minutes, she knelt before him, taking his hands in hers and meeting his eyes.

"William, it tears at me to know you have been through so much pain and I would do anything to ease it… but I also begin to understand how you became the man you are today… the man I love with all my heart."

"But also the arrogant, proud, cynical git who you despised," muttered the gentleman. However, his melancholy was broken by the brilliant smile that broke across his fiancé's face.

She responded slowly, choosing her words with care. "William, you are the best man I have ever known. Knowing you better, I understand that that proud, cynical exterior which you learned to present to the world was for protection against all the hurts and disappointments that cut at you. That you could live through what you have and yet still maintain, at your core, such a kind, amiable, and above all, honorable disposition shows an uncommon strength of character, I believe.

Elizabeth refocused on his face and noted that he was blushing but also looking at her with a sort of awe. A giggle bubbled up from deep inside her and, despite the heavy subjects that had been canvassed that day, the couple was joined in a feeling of lightness and intimacy which bonded them just as strongly as the vows that they would repeat before church and God later that week.

Chapter 37. A Double Wedding at Longbourn.

Posted on 2011-02-02

September 1818

Mr. Darcy could not keep his gaze off the lady nestled in the crook of his arm, a small smile on her sleeping face. Every few minutes he would decisively turn his head away so that his eyes were directed out of the carriage window, but the passing countryside held no interest for him. Though he worried that Elizabeth might be uncomfortable if she woke to find him staring at her, he could not resist.

Elizabeth. Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy. His wife.

Even now, after several hours alone in his carriage and well along the road to the manor where they would be spending two weeks at the Kentish seaside, the fact that he was finally married to the love of his life seemed surreal.

Actually, the previous twenty-four hours seemed surreal. William remembered them not as a continuous sequence, but as a series of brief, brilliant images.

He recalled being irritated with Charles for dawdling and practically making them late leaving Netherfield for the church. The actual trip was a blur, but he remembered with excruciating detail that, having reached the church nearly two hours before the ceremony, he had been forced to stand at the front as if on display for all the arriving guests. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Bingley had laughed at him, informing him that it was his just desserts for being so impatient. William had been so nervous that he feared he would vomit on the vicar's shoes.

Not that he had been able to eat more than a bit of toast with his breakfast tea that morning.

William's private consolation had been that Bingley was equally anxious, if not more so. The younger man had chattered and jittered like a skittish thoroughbred until Mr. Hurst had finally taken pity on his brother-in-law and drawn him off to an antechamber. Darcy was not certain what was in Hurst's flask, but a few gulps from it had helped Bingley settle somewhat, such that when his man repaired cravat this time, it remained intact long enough for the Bennets' carriage to arrive at the church.

Elizabeth stirred slightly when the coach bounced over a rough patch in the road but did not wake. William resisted the urge to feather his fingers across her cheek, contenting himself with tucking the light blanket over her again lest it slide away.

At one point during the wedding breakfast, William had stood by as Mrs. Bennet extolled Jane's unparalleled beauty as a bride to Mrs. Phillips and Lady Lucas. With a start, he had realized that he had absolutely no idea what his new sister-in-law had looked like. From the moment that Mr. Bennet had appeared at the church entry with his two eldest daughters on his arms, there had been no one but Elizabeth.

The day had dawned without a cloud in the blue sky, a fine example of autumn weather in England. The three Bennets had been smiling at one another as they took their first steps up the aisle; Darcy was fairly certain that Longbourn's master had made some acerbic comment to amuse his daughters just before the doors had opened.

But then Elizabeth had stepped into a sunbeam and looked directly into his eyes, and William's entire world had shifted. Everything and everyone seemed to fall away as if they were the only two in the church. Almost absently he had noted that she had small white flowers and pearls woven into her hair and they had glowed even as the sunlight sparked red highlights in her mahogany tresses.

When Mr. Bennet had passed his second daughter's hand to him, William had remained absolutely still for a moment, staring into her eyes and seeing all the love and trust that he could have ever hoped for. His nerves fell away and he was left knowing, absolutely, that all was right in his world. Whatever trials and tribulations life had in store for them, they would weather it together. This sparkling, impertinent, intelligent, witty, kind, and above all, loving woman had agreed to join her life with his, and he trusted her as no one else to open himself and cleave unto her.

William recalled very little of the vicar's words but the brilliant smile that Elizabeth had given him when he slid the ring on her finger would be embedded in his mind forever. He had held her hand in both of his for a moment, as if the sight of the jewel worn by his mother, grandmother, and so many Mrs. Darcys before them might disappear if he looked away.

It had been her soft "Will" that had returned his eyes to her face and then his attention back to the vicar, who had just informed him that he might kiss his bride.

Fitzwilliam Darcy was not the sort of man to air his emotions in public, but as he and Elizabeth followed his friend and her sister out of the church, he could not suppress a wide, even goofy, grin.

Mr. Bennet overheard Mrs. Long's nieces whispering to each other that Mr. Darcy was quite the handsomest gentleman that they had ever seen--his smile positively gave them shivers! Elizabeth's father made a conscious decision not to sharpen his wit upon the two silly girls, though his eyes twinkled; had they not quizzed his Lizzy just last week over how she could bear to marry such a grave, intimidating gentleman?

Kitty had wriggled her way through the crowd to the happy couple, leading a slightly more timid Georgiana by the hand. However, both girls were equally enthusiastic in their hugs for their siblings.

William and Elizabeth had mingled with the well wishers for some time, gradually moving toward Longbourn where Mrs. Bennet's meticulously planned wedding breakfast was waiting. At one point, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy came face to face with Mr. and Mrs. Bingley and the two couples exchanged kisses and sincere congratulations.

For a moment, William had stood quietly as Charles and Elizabeth chatted happily over some aspect of the service. Once again he was struck by how right he had been to disregard Society's tendency to treat marriage as a business venture, to increase the family's wealth and connections. Jane Bennet might be lauded as a classic beauty and she certainly glowed with happiness, but Elizabeth laughed, and the sound of her unaffected joy made him feel as if he would burst with happiness.

William's ruminations were interrupted by Colonel Fitzwilliam, trailed by his parents. Slapping his younger cousin on the back hard enough to stagger him, Richard teased, "Well Wills, my boy… no way to escaping it now--you're leg-shackled at last!"

It was less his mother's "Richard!" and more Elizabeth's raised eyebrow that reminded the Colonel that perhaps such jokes were best left for the billiards room or public house. However, he quickly recovered. "Mrs. Darcy, my sincerest congratulations… and if you every find that you cannot put up with my cousin's boorish behavior--particularly on a Sunday afternoon when he has nothing to do--you have but to call and I shall arrive on my faithful steed to spirit you away!"

Elizabeth's other eyebrow went up but she only laughed; "Why thank you kindly, Colonel Fitzwilliam, though I do not believe I shall need rescuing. I am quite content with my fate." This last was said with such a warm look to her new husband that Richard felt rather as if he were intruding on an intimate moment.

The Colonel moved off to greet Sir William Lucas and inquire after the health of Mrs. Collins while his parents took his place. The Earl was gruff yet sincere in his congratulations but it was Lady Eleanor who wrapped both young people in hugs. Even Darcy was left blinking back tears at her warmth, particularly when she took him aside to squeeze his arm and murmur, "Oh Wills, dear boy, I wish Lady Anne were here to see you so happy. She and your father would have been so pleased."

The other Fitzwilliams had followed--the Earl made a small comment apologizing that the Viscount and his wife had not been able to attend, but in truth no one was particularly disappointed by that couple's absence.

After a few minutes, Elizabeth was distracted from Lucy's chatter by the sight of Mr. Gardiner making his way toward them from the direction of Longbourn House. Her aunt and uncle had been among the first to congratulate the new couple before going ahead to aid Mrs. Bennet in seeing that all details of the breakfast were perfect (or at least, to keep Longbourn's Mistress from disturbing the servants from their work).

"My sister wished for me to check that you and Mr. Darcy and Jane and Mr. Bingley are all on your way," he said quietly to Elizabeth. At her amused look, he shrugged and chuckled. Lizzy rolled her eyes but dutifully whispered the request to her sister, and soon the party was making their way to Longbourn.

William's memory of the following two hours was primarily a sea of swirling faces, some familiar, many not, but all congratulating him with a general bonhomie. He recalled complimenting his new mother-in-law on her table and certainly the table practically groaned with the variety of dishes, not to mention the floral decorations.

A plate of delicacies had certainly found its way into his hand, but Will could not honestly remember eating a single bite. At one point, Elizabeth had caught his eye across the room and quirked an eyebrow, clearly enquiring if he needed rescuing. William suddenly realized that he had been listening to Sir William Lucas extol Mr. Darcy's good fortune at carrying off one of "Hertfordshire's brightest jewels" for at least ten minutes, and been perfectly content.

William attributed his light-headedness to the emotions of the day, but his empty stomach and the champagne Mr. Gardiner had provided in honor of the celebration might have been contributing factors.

At some point, Jane and Elizabeth had retreated upstairs to prepare themselves and share some private words of farewell. Darcy had found himself standing in a corner with Charles, who was even more ebullient than usual. The two friends discussed their immediate travel plans; while Darcy and Elizabeth were for Kent, Bingley was following his dream to take Jane to Paris.

Darcy was somewhat concerned for his friend; Napoleon might be currently confined to Saint Helena, but the Corsican had managed to escape Elba and gather an army only three years ago, so who was to say he might not accomplish the same feat again? William had prompted Colonel Fitzwilliam to speak frankly to the younger man about the realities of visiting France so soon after war, but Charles would not be moved. He had grown up hearing the romantic story of his parents' wedding trip through France and was determined that Jane would have no less.

Of course, the France of 1783 under the monarchy of twenty-nine year old Louis XVI and his Austrian bride, Marie Antoinette, was likely to be somewhat different than the New Republic barely three years after the defeat of Bonaparte at Waterloo.

However, Darcy had remained true to his vow to treat his friend as an equal and not attempt to manage his life. In truth, he could not imagine wanting to spend a month traveling through foreign parts so soon on the tails of all the weeks of wedding preparations. Had Elizabeth desired it, no doubt he would have agreed, but in this as in so many other fundamentals, they had been in synchrony. The newly minted Mr. and Mrs. Darcy would spend the next fortnight in a quiet manor on the Kentish seaside, with few servants and no society whatsoever. After all the obligations of the last two months, neither could wait.

At that moment, William had caught sight of Elizabeth re-entering the room with her sister and all thoughts of Bingley disappeared. She was wearing one of her new gowns; a traveling dress in a rich mulberry that, though certainly designed for comfort during a long carriage ride, none-the-less also displayed Madame Lavoisier's talent of designing clothes that flattered the female figure.

Darcy had felt himself develop a sudden tightness in his breeches and decided that it would be best if he took the time to relieve and refresh himself before escorting his lovely new wife to their carriage in front of all their family and friends.

"William?"

The softness of the inquiry could not diminish his immediate reaction to such a beloved voice. William roused himself, opening his eyes to find Elizabeth was still cuddled within his arm, but now had her sparkling eyes open and upon him. "I apologize; I did not mean to fall asleep."

The notion that his current posture, back wedged into the corner and legs sprawled across the diagonal, was not tremendously dignified skittered across his consciousness, but he was too pleased with his current position to pay it any mind. Some of Elizabeth's hair had worked free from its pins and he idly wrapped a springy curl around his finger.

"Please don't apologize--I fear I have slept the entire trip away."

"Ah, but I believe I had more sleep last night," he teased. After being unable to suppress several increasingly wide yawns during their first hour in the carriage, Elizabeth had admitted that she and Jane had slept little the previous night. In part because they had spent the night in whispered reassurances of their sisterly affections and hopes for the future, and in part because Mrs. Bennet's nerves had kept her bustling about until the wee hours of the morning. Her husband had finally sent her to bed at half-past two when she had declared that Jane and Elizabeth must repack their trunks because she was certain that they had folded their dresses wrongly.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes but did not argue. Her nap had revived her, however, and soon she was looking out of the carriage windows. "Do you know where we are? The air seems different--salty, perhaps?"

Darcy turned his gaze to the passing scenery and then straightened. "I believe we are quite close, in fact. Do you see the cliffs, just there?" He pointed out the far window where, if one tilted one's head to the correct angle, the far-off land seemed to fall away and one could just make out the grey ocean beyond. "In fact, I believe this might be the turn-off to Seacrest Manor coming up."

William's words proved prophetic when minutes later, the driver (well instructed on what to expect by Michael Trevor's man) turned the coach off the main road and on to a well-kept lane.

Elizabeth looked out to the sea for a moment longer before turning her attentions to repairing her hair. "I do hope that Jane and Charles have a safe crossing. They are both so eager to see Paris, but I cannot say that I am envious one whit."

Darcy smiled, pleased to have his thoughts confirmed again. "You haven't an envious bone in your body, my dear."

Tucking the last pin in place, Elizabeth turned an impish look upon him. "Oh, I fear you shall be quite shocked when you become better acquainted with all my faults, sir. For example, I spent many years wildly jealous of Jane's flaxen hair when we were girls. Mine was born fair as well, you see, and it only turned dark when I was five or so. It was a great disappointment to my mother; she had hoped that all her daughters would inherit her looks, you see."

Sensing a deep wound that had never quite healed, William pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "I adore your hair, your eyes, and everything else about you, and would not trade you for any blonde in the world."

Elizabeth grinned up at him. "Then it is lucky that Mrs. Hill caught me before I could apply the hair potion that I acquired from the traveling gypsies and smuggled into the still room."

William's eyebrows rose, but before he could ask for further details, the carriage rolled to a halt before a lovely, old, ivy-covered stone house.

Without waiting for the footman, Darcy jumped down and assisted his wife himself. They stood for a moment on the drive as she brushed some wrinkles out of her skirts and he surveyed the landscape around them. Their attention was drawn back to the house when a pair of elderly servants appeared.

"And you would be Mr. Darcy, sir?" As William agreed that he was indeed the gentleman they were expecting, and received their names in turn (Mr. and Mrs. Brooke), Elizabeth eyed the pair, liking them immediately.

The butler was tall and serious in his greetings, but his wife soon took over the conversation in a manner Elizabeth recognized as habitual. "Your servants arrived several hours ago, sir, and your set up just as you wished. Dinner can be served now or later, as you like… perhaps you wish for a bath first to wash off the road dust?"

William's stomach rumbled loudly in response. While the servants struggled to keep their expressions impassive, Elizabeth felt no such compunctions and burst into a peal of laughter. "Well! That certainly answers that question!"

When William shot a mildly embarrassed look at her, she merely patted his arm and then encouraged them all to enter the house. "Perhaps if you could have basins of hot water sent up, we might just wash our hands and faces for now. Then we could eat in a half hour; does that give the cook enough time to set everything in motion?"

The housekeeper quickly took the young bride's measure and liked the spirit that she saw in the lady's eyes. In no time at all, Elizabeth and William, refreshed and dressed in clean clothes, were sitting down to a table of appetizing foods. They dismissed the servants, preferring the privacy of serving themselves. Before leaving them, Mr. Brooke received permission to open French doors along the east wall, allowing the evening breezes to swirl into the room.

Despite her teasing, Elizabeth found herself quite as famished as her husband, and for some time the conversation remained focused on praising the dishes. Eventually, however, her appetite was sated and Lizzy found herself drawn to the view from the open doors.

William beside her, they stepped out onto the stone patio and breathed the fresh sea air. "I would suggest a walk, but I fear that between the darkness and unfamiliar terrain, we might topple off a cliff and never be seen again," he murmured, standing behind her and taking the liberty of running his hands lightly up and down her arms.

"Ah, I can imagine the ghost stories already… bride and groom, star-crossed lovers, dying tragically the very day of their wedding and doomed to haunt the cliffs forevermore…" She shivered dramatically, but it wasn't entirely because of the story.

Elizabeth took a small breath and leaned back against her husband's chest, and felt his arms come around her waist. Her husband. "What a road we have traveled to get here," she murmured, then sucked in her breath slightly--she had not meant to speak those last words aloud, not wishing to bring unhappy memories to the fore on such a joyful day.

However, William only tightened his arms around her waist and tucked her head below his chin. "Indeed," he murmured, just as softly.

Mr. and Mrs. Darcy spent some minutes in quite reflection; neither would have been much surprised to find that their thoughts followed similar paths and touched on similar events, both painful and happy. Eventually, they were distracted from their contemplations by the calling of the sea birds settling into their rocky nests for the night.

Elizabeth turned within the circle of his arms, lacing her hands up behind his neck. "Perhaps it is time to retire, my dear husband."

For a moment William seemed frozen, but then he broke into a broad smile. "Your wish is my command, dearest wife." They kissed first, long and passionately. Then Darcy reached down and lifted her in his arms, kissing her pert nose even as she shrieked and laughingly demanded that he set her down.

On the way up the stairs, Darcy called back over his shoulder to a bemused Mr. and Mrs. Burke, "Mrs. Darcy and I shall be retiring now… please see to it that we are not disturbed until we ring for you in the morning."

Elizabeth hid her blushing face in his cravat but could not refrain from giggling.

Chapter 38. Happy Days.

Posted on 2011-03-21

October 1818

"My dear Mr. Darcy," said that gentleman's wife to him.

"Yes, my love?" he replied.

"May I see your watch, for I appear to have left mine behind?"

The gentleman obliged, handing her the timepiece that his father had given him upon his departure for university. He watched as she opened it and made a great show of carefully studying the placement of the hands.

"Can this be correct?" she cried. "Sir, are you quite certain that you have not forgotten to wind it?"

As any of his close friends and servants would know, Fitzwilliam Darcy was a creature of habit. Despite recent, significant changes in his personal life, he was as unlikely to forget this action as his various other morning ablutions. And even then, his meticulous valet would have sooner thrown himself into the Thames than send his Master out with an unwound clock.

Suspecting that a tease was forthcoming, William nonetheless took the watch from her hand and studied it. "I believe that it is quite correct, my dear. Are we late for an engagement of which I was not aware? I had not realized our social calendar was so full, nor so regimented."

At this, the lady's amusement sparkled for a moment before she resumed her serious demeanor. For indeed, the couple had done little but please them selves for the last fortnight. The housekeeper of Seacrest Manor had quickly learned that the newlyweds preferred to take breakfast in their rooms. The servants left covered trays in the master suite's private sitting room so that the pair might serve themselves, and it was not much whispered about that the maids occasionally found crumbs in the bed when they changed the linens later in the day.

Whenever the weather was fine (and this had been a particularly lovely autumn), the new Mr. and Mrs. Darcy took a picnic lunch and rambled far and wide along the shoreline. Such walking was certainly beneficial exercise, for the manor's temporary master and mistress often retired to bed soon after enjoying the cook's excellent dinners.

All of this flickered through William's mind as he returned his watch to its pocket and waited for his wife's impertinent reply, the likes of which he was certain he would never tire.

"Well, sir, I am afraid I must inform you that if that clock is correct, then you have seriously neglected your husbandly duties, for it has been nearly two hours since you last kissed your wife."

There could be only one response to such a statement, and for some minutes the picnic hamper lay on its side where Darcy had unceremoniously dropped it.

Once he was certain that his duty had been discharged thoroughly and to the great satisfaction of his wife, Will recollected the basket and, securing his lady's hand, directed their steps once more in the direction of a particular cliff where they had decided to dine.

After walking for some minutes in silence with a dreamy smile, Elizabeth wrapped both arms securely about his arm and tipped her head to rest against his shoulder. "Must we leave this place for Town? The last fortnight has been nothing short of idealic…"

Will chuckled, "I had planned to rely upon you to convince me of the very great pleasures awaiting our return, for you know that I have no great liking of the City."

The lady favoured him with an amused smile. When they reached their favorite picnic area, they spread out their blanket in the lee of several boulders which shielded them from the prevailing wind while still allowed a superb view of the white-capped waves being blown up onto the rocky beach far below. Elizabeth no longer blushed quite as hotly as she would have a fortnight prior when her husband's hand brushed hers, but the tingle she felt at his touch was just as strong and had far greater meaning.

William removed his coat and stretched out on the blanket, leaning back on his elbows and crossing his legs at the ankles while watching his wife unpack their lunch from the basket. For the first time in his life, he felt wholly content.

The bachelor he had been would have insisted that they adhere to the schedule as it had been planned, for, as he had once told Mr. Bingley, he did not consider precipitance to be a laudable trait. However, since his marriage (and really, since the day that Miss Elizabeth Bennet had taken him to task for that very statement in the Netherfield drawing room), he had found himself generally quite happy to acede to that lady's wishes.

Choosing an apple and beginning to peel it with his pocketknife, he asked, "Shall we stay, then? I would need to write Michael Trevor to be certain that he has not made other plans for the house."

Elizabeth had moved so that she might lean back against one of the boulders and run her fingers through her husband's dark curls. For a moment, she merely stared out over the ocean's waves, enjoying the surge of joy that came with the thought of extending this time alone together, unfettered by the duties and demands that would surely intrude upon their lives when they departed.

Eventually, however, she sighed. "When I consider the logistical details, I fear that it would be more trouble than it is worth, for it is not just the Viscount Hampden who would need to be written. The Gardiners would be concerned if we did not call, and your household would have to be notified…"

"Our household," William corrected softly, reaching up to feed her a slice of apple.

The newly minted Mrs. Darcy of only sixteen days smiled affectionately at him. "I beg your pardon, sir--our household. You shall have to check all my letters to make certain that I do not sign them 'Elizabeth Bennet' in a moment of absent-mindedness."

At that, William sat up, tossed aside his pocketknife, and turned to face her so that he might cup one cheek and draw her to him. "Gladly, and for the rest of our lives."

It was some minutes before any conversation was resumed and even then Mrs. Darcy found herself in the happy position of sitting in her husband's lap, cradled against his chest. "And the Fitzwilliams would have to be informed, and Georgiana, of course."

"What?!?" Mr. Darcy's mind had not travelled in a similar direction as his wife's and, indeed, was much more pleasantly engaged in activities that he had no desire to share with his younger sister or any other relatives for that matter.

Elizabeth giggled and leaned far enough away that her husband was forced to cease feathering kisses up her neck… momentarily. "I am saying that we may as well return to Town Friday, as planned, unless we care to take out an advertisement in the Times for all the people we would need to inform of a change in plans."

"We wouldn't need to pay for an advertisement--it would probably show up in the gossip columns without any effort on our part," William grumbled. He had been most displeased to learn that his footmen had had to escort a newspaper artist from the Longbourn church, sent up from London to sketch the newly married Mr. Darcy and his "country bride."

Elizabeth only giggled again and returned to her previous position, cuddled up against his chest. "Poor, poor Mr. Darcy… 'tis such a trial to be so rich and important."

William humphed but she felt a chuckle rumble in his chest. He was still learning to be teased (and to tease in return), but even a few short weeks in her intimate company had leavened his cynical view of the world significantly. He would never enjoy Society, but he was learning how to laugh at its antics rather than instantly condemn.

"And besides, I am quite looking forward to seeing the gown that Madame Lavoisier is creating for me to wear at the Matlock's ball." Elizabeth attempted to look up at him with an innocent look, but the mischievous sparkle in her eyes quite gave her away.

Mr. Darcy was no connoisseur of ladies' fashions (although he had often noticed that the two eldest Miss Bennets had a simple, elegant style that complimented their natural beauty quite in contrast to Miss Bingley and her ilk's overly-ornamented ensembles). However, he could certainly appreciate how his wife's newer dresses complimented her figure; the gown she had worn on their wedding day had left his mouth dry and heart pounding, and the simple silk sheath she had donned before meeting him on their first night as husband and wife had nearly stopped his heart altogether.

With a growl, William tumbled her off his lap and onto the blanket, capturing both of her hands with his own so that he might nuzzle her neck unimpeded. "It is final, then… we are going no where, for I have no desire to share you with any one else, particularly all the men whom my aunt shall deem necessary to invite to her ball."

Several minutes later, Lizzy caught her breath long enough to ask, "and my ball gown? If we miss the Matlock's ball--which is being given in our honour, might I remind you--where shall I have the chance to wear it?"

William whispered a suggestion in her ear that made her simultaneously blush and laugh, and nothing else was said for some time.

Chapter 39. New Additions.

Posted on 2011-07-19

October 1818

Despite an understandable reluctance to leave the seaside manor at which they had spent their first two weeks of married life, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy (née Bennet) and her husband resisted the temptation to extend their stay. Instead, they returned to London on the appointed day, consoling themselves with plans for some entertainments that could only be found in Town. The weather was fine and the trip from Kent proved surprisingly enjoyable as the pair took turns reading aloud from Samuel Coleridge's new work, Rime of the Ancyent Marinere.

And so it was that, on the first Friday in October, Grosvenor Square observed the finest of the Darcy carriages pull up before Derwent House and Mr. Darcy himself hand out a laughing young lady with sparkling eyes who was immediately assumed to be his new bride. Luckily for the newlyweds, it was too late in the afternoon for any but the most aggressive of gossips to go calling. Even so, Society's madams and misses made their plans for the morrow, and their husbands and brothers were directed to spend time at whatever club Mr. Darcy was most likely to visit.

The latter strategy proved unsuccessful, for the newly married Mr. Darcy had no desire to be any further away from his wife than the next room. However, many of Society's gentlemen raised a toast to him anyway, for how often did their wives press them to spend more time at their clubs?

When the butler himself opened the door to Derwent House, Elizabeth looked up at her husband with an arched eyebrow before stepping through that august portal. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust from the bright autumn sun to the dimmer interior. When she could see again, Lizzy realized that all of the servants were lined up in the foyer and herself the subject of great curiosity, from the cheerful-looking housekeeper (whom she had met before, thankfully), to the lowliest scullery maid.

William cleared his throat slightly before speaking. "Mr. Holmes, Mrs. Wilkins, thank you for gathering the staff. It gives me great pleasure to introduce you all to your new mistress, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy. I have every confidence that you will treat her with respect and obedience; as you come to know her better, I hope that you will add to that the same loyalty and affection which Miss Darcy and I have enjoyed for these many years."

When Mr. Darcy finished speaking, there was some applause, although that quickly quieted when he turned to his wife, clearly expecting that she would have something to add.

Elizabeth smiled so amiably that even the most suspicious boot boy could do naught but smile back. "I thank you all for your kind welcome and I look forward to getting to know each of you--I fear that it shall take me some time to know your names so I beg for your patience."

After pausing for some laughter to quiet, she continued, "When I visited Derwent House before my marriage, what impressed me most was not the impressive façade (although the architecture and furnishings are certainly lovely), but the warm feeling that it has… This was clearly not just a house but a home… and that is a sentiment which comes from the good people who live and work within its walls. I am not one to make changes simply for the sake of change, so I hope everything will continue on much as it has, except that in the spring we will be entertaining a bit more than I understand Mr. Darcy has been in the habit of doing."

When Darcy broke into a dimpled smile at her tease and Elizabeth grinned back, eyes sparkling, the entire staff broke into loud applause and there were even a few, gruff "huzzahs" from the footmen. The servants' own eyes confirmed the below stairs gossip that the Master had made a love match, and the lady's words and attitude reassured them that the new mistress would not be turning the house topsy-turvy as some other young brides might.

The housekeeper stepped forward and proudly introduced Mrs. Darcy to her new staff. While Elizabeth exchanged some small words with each, Will followed a step behind, observing everything with a feeling of contentment he had rarely felt in his life.

Eventually, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were able to retire to their rooms. Mrs. Wilkins bustled about, pointing out all the changes that had been made in accordance to their wishes until she realized that the couple might desire some privacy.

Before the housekeeper could excuse herself, a maid peaked around the door to the dressing room. "Mrs. Darcy? Shall I pour out your bathwater, ma'am?"

"Oh, goodness me, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Darcy… Of course you'll be wanting to freshen up after such a long carriage ride. We have unpacked all of your things and Sally here will be looking after you… I'll just be going now. Shall I check on the kitchens? Mr. Darcy usually has tea at four and dinner at seven when he is in residence. Is that acceptable?"

Elizabeth smiled kindly; such enthusiasm could not but please. "Thank you, Mrs. Wilkins. That sounds perfect."

Once the housekeeper had excused her self, Lizzy took a moment to look around her new bedchamber and dressing room. She had kept nearly all of Lady Anne's furniture--Thomas Sheraton's simple, graceful styles pleased her--but the upholstery and cushions had been updated to soft blues and yellows to match the new draperies and wallpaper. Taken together, they gave the room such a calm, restful air that one might forget that the house was in the middle of London.

Elizabeth was about to explore further when she heard a tapping coming from a door that had been made to blend into the wall. Suddenly realizing that it was the door to the Master's bedchamber, she felt her pulse quicken. They had been married for two weeks and had spent every night together, but here, where he had lived as a bachelor and was known as the Master, it all seemed somehow much more real.

"Come in?" Disliking the tentative tone of her voice, Lizzy took a deep breath and was about to repeat herself when the door opened and her dear William peeked in.

"Is she gone?"

His attitude was so much like a little boy hiding from his nanny that she could not help but smile. "Mrs. Wilkins has gone to check that our tea shall be served on time." His obvious relief made her burst into giggles.

"I warned you that she is excessively happy to have a mistress. When I hired her to replace old Mrs. Parks, Wilkins had no idea that she would have to wait through four long years of just Georgiana and myself. I believe that she had begun to fear that I would live and die a bachelor, and she would never have the chance to organize all the dinners and balls for which she longs."

William's demeanor of long suffering made Elizabeth laugh out loud and throw her arms around his neck. "Poor, poor Mr. Darcy… Such trials you are put through."

For a moment she thought that he might take offence, but then his face relaxed and he rolled his eyes. "Trials, indeed… minx!" He kissed her nose and then, wrapping his arms around her waist, picked her up and spun her in a circle. "Welcome home, Mrs. Darcy."

If Sally mistakenly cracked the door to tell the Mistress that the bath was ready, she quickly shut the door and made herself scarce.

Some time later, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy did separate to their respective dressing rooms; neither seemed to mind that the bathwater was slightly cool.

Elizabeth was pleased to discover that Madame Lavoisier had completed several of her new dresses and spent a few minutes looking through her closet. It struck her how different her life was to be now, with a vast wardrobe full of finery yet without four sisters and a mother to discuss clothes and share ribbons and such. She had often wished for a bit more quiet and privacy at Longbourn, but it suddenly seemed odd that there was no one here to share her girlish pleasure over a pretty new gown.

Suddenly Lizzy shook her head and might have slapped her forehead, had not the maid been standing there. "The blue, I think, Sally. I feel rather extravagant wearing lawn for just a dinner at home, but it is just too pretty to deny myself."

"Oh, yes, Ma'am. I am sure that Mr. Darcy shall like it, as well," agreed the maid happily as she busied herself setting out the clothes.

Elizabeth smiled but said nothing; she might not have any sisters around to gush over her new gowns, but she was sure that a certain gentleman in the next room would be sure to appreciate her new garments.

When she was dressed and her hair done to Sally's satisfaction, Elizabeth dismissed the servant and went to explore a bit more. She was rather surprised that Darcy had not come to find her, but reasoned that he was just as uncertain about their new arrangement as she. Raising her hand to knock on the same door through which he had emerged earlier, she jumped when it moved beneath her hand.

William's valet stood on the other side, looking equally surprised. "Oh-- Mr. Hawkins! I am very glad to see that you made the trip to London safely. Is my husband ready yet, or does he need more time to primp?"

The valet thought Mrs. Darcy to be a very pretty, clever lady, but was not quite sure how to handle her teasing manner toward the Master. "Yes, Ma'am. Mr. Darcy is waiting in his chambers."

Before Elizabeth could thank him, the man was gone. She suppressed a giggle--sometimes her husband's valet seemed to possess an almost supernatural ability to appear and disappear in the blink of an eye.

Regardless, she stepped through the doorway and found herself in a bedchamber arranged in nearly a mirror image of her own though with more masculine furniture and decorated in a pleasing palette of greens. Above the fireplace was a beautiful landscape that she quickly identified as Pemberley House reflected on its lake, but even more attractive was the gentleman seated on the comfortable-looking settee before it… reading a book.

William glanced up to see her smiling at him. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you." Elizabeth bit her lip, as if laughing inwardly at some private joke.

He stood and came closer, looking over her dress again and trying to determine if he had missed something. "Have I said something amusing? This is one of your new gowns, is it not?"

She stepped forward and rested her hands upon his chest. "I am merely enjoying my very great fortune in marrying a man who likes to discuss ladies' fashions and presses me to spend his money on new frocks."

William's chuckles joined her laughter, for both of them were well aware of how miserable he was made by ladies who conversed upon no other topics than lace and sleeve lengths.

After some further teasing, Darcy encouraged her to inspect his new bedchamber and dressing room, both of which she found quite pleasing. William was still somewhat dissatisfied by the idea that they would have separate bedchambers, even if they had no plans to sleep separately. "The floor plan that we conceived for our suite at Pemberley is far more sensible."

"Yes, dearest, but as we agreed, the rooms at Pemberley are more flexible in their layout. Here, we would have to take out walls rather than just re-assigning their uses. Let us try it for a time, shall we? Besides, my bedchamber shall soon be little more than an extension of my dressing room if my wardrobe continues to expand at this pace!"

William considered this for a moment and then brightened. "Excellent--shall I take you shopping tomorrow, then?"

Amid much laughter, the pair finally departed his (their) bedchamber and made their way downstairs. Mrs. Wilkins was as good as her word and they were soon settled companionably in the library with tea and the mail that had accumulated since the wedding.

Elizabeth put aside a letter from her mother with a grimace and eagerly opened a rather dirty envelope addressed in her eldest sister's handwriting.

William watched out of the corner of his eye as her expression shifted from pleasure to concern to amusement. When she reached the end of the letter and then turned back to re-read some previous section, he gave in to his curiosity. "And how are Mr. and Mrs. Bingley faring?"

Elizabeth looked up at him and grimaced. "Well, they certainly appear to be having an adventure, even if they have not seen much of France… or any of Paris for that matter!"

William's eyebrows shot up and he moved to sit at her side, immediately starting to berate himself for not working harder to discourage Charles from visiting France on his wedding trip.

Elizabeth caught a glimpse of his disquiet and touched his arm, "No need for such a grim demeanor, my love-- nothing horrible has happened. Their trip has simply… not gone precisely to plan." She turned over the page so that he might read it from the beginning.

My dearest Lizzy,

I pray that this letter finds you and Mr. Darcy both well. I know not when this note will reach you, but I wished to assure you that we have reached France safely, if not quite according schedule. As you know, we intended to leave early the morning after the wedding. However, I fear that we delayed somewhat over breakfast when my mother brought our sisters and Aunt Phillips to visit.

Although Darcy did not say anything, he could not prevent making a small noise in his throat. Elizabeth merely rolled her eyes at him and said, "I warned Jane that they would have no peace at Netherfield."

William decided that the safest option was to hold his tongue and continue reading.

Luckily, the roads were good and we were only slightly tardy in reaching the docks. We were able to find rooms without too much trouble, despite the late hour. The next morning, we found our ship and Captain MacLean greeted us personally--he had known Charles' father and was glad to see my husband 'all grown up.' He was very kind and even had us for a cup of tea in his private quarters. It is quite astonishing how these sailors take advantage of every last bit of space; the chairs folded down from the walls of his cabin and even the table was secured to the floor so that it would not slide around in rough seas.

I fear that we realized the advantage of such an arrangement almost immediately, for a storm came upon us as soon as the ship left the harbor. I shall not go into details except to say that it was quickly obvious that both Charles and I are quite sensitive to the motion of the waves. Lizzy, I shall never be able to thank you enough for insisting that I take Madame Lavoisier's niece as my maid. She was the only one who did not become sea sick and, indeed, looked after all of us, even Charles' man. The crossing took longer than usual because of the weather but we did eventually make land.

Somehow Marie got us all settled at an inn run by a very kind couple who even speak a little English. Charles and I were both very weak when we arrived; unfortunately, we were barely recovered from the seasickness when we both fell ill with a slight fever. Do not worry, Lizzy, for it is just a cold and we are both recovering. Madame Mesnier has us wrapped in quilts and sitting on a balcony in the afternoon sun; she is a great believer in fresh air as a cure (I believe you would like her!). Her husband is a wonderful cook and has been stuffing us with all sorts of fish stews and pastries. When we are well enough, the Mesniers have a cousin with an open carriage who shall give us a tour of the countryside, including an old ruined castle that they say has been drawn by all the great painters.

Jane's letter continued thus for another page, describing small happenings on the seaside below the Bingleys' balcony and the plans they were making for when the couple was feeling well enough. She closed with more reassurances that they were both feeling better by the day, that Lizzy and Mr. Darcy must not worry, and that they would certainly be returned to London in time to attend the Matlocks' ball.

Below Jane's signature was a bit of chicken scratch that could only be attributed to Charles Bingley.

Darce--

Had a [blot] rough crossing but recovering in lovely little seaside town [blot blot]. Don't worry--all's well. [blot] not sure if we will make it to Paris, but [blot] enjoying ourselves nonetheless. Excellent food and wine [blot] Hurst would be jealous!

Yours etc.,

[blot] Bingley

Elizabeth could not help but chuckle at her husband's face while he attempted to decipher the scrawl. "Your friend's handwriting is very different from my sister's."

Darcy was still trying to decide how concerned he should be, but her comment prompted a slight smile. "Indeed. It has always been so with Charles; interpreting his scribble is a talent that few have achieved." He studied his wife's face carefully. "You do not seem overly worried."

Elizabeth tilted her head and took back the letter to study an earlier section of her sister's commentary. "Jane would tell me directly if they were in need of our help. Also, she is not one to lay about unless she is extremely ill, yet clearly this is not the letter of one who is confined to her bed. I rather think that she is enjoying the excuse to relax for a few days."

William wrinkled his brow. "But I thought that she was as eager as Bingley to see Paris?"

"Oh, she was… but the fact remains that she has born the brunt of our mother's nerves for months and shall do so again when they return to Netherfield. I suspect that she did not know how wonderful a few days of peace would be until it was forced upon her."

While Darcy pondered this insight to his new sister-in-law's disposition, Elizabeth turned her attention to another letter in her pile of mail. In short order she was exclaiming over a note from her Uncle Gardiner with such joy that William rapidly forgot about the Bingleys.

"Aunt Maddy has had her baby! A girl--early, to be sure, but my uncle says that both mother and child are healthy!"

Before he quite knew what was happening, Darcy found himself on the way to Gracechurch Street. Unaccustomed to such easy familiarity among relatives, he insisted upon sending the Gardiners a note before leaving, but in truth the messenger arrived only a few minutes before the carriage.

It was soon clear that there had been no need, for upon entering the Gardiners' home they joined a motley company with a similar goal of wishing the family joy. After giving her uncle a great hug, Elizabeth joined the group of ladies gathered around the chair where Madeleine Gardiner and her new daughter were comfortably ensconced.

Darcy spent more time congratulating Mr. Gardiner; the man looked exhausted but also brilliantly happy. "Ah, just you wait, young man… your turn will come sooner than you think and then you shall know true bliss, to behold your wife and new-born babe!"

William made appropriate noises but managed to retreat to a far corner when others came forward to congratulate Mr. Gardiner again before departing. Intellectually, he knew that the man's words were true, both in the probability that Elizabeth might come to be with child at any time, and also of the joy that he expected to feel at being a father… so why did the thought also fill him with terror?

"…a great responsibility, isn't it, sir?"

Darcy was jolted back to the present and realized that the Gardiners' eldest son had joined him, though much of the lad's attention was still directed toward the tiny creature in his mother's arms. William smiled. "Yes, a young sister is a great responsibility, but also a great joy. I was about the same age as you are now when Miss Darcy was born--I still remember when my mother put her in my arms and explained that it was my duty to look after her… that she would look up to me for all her life." He paused, thinking of the times he had failed to keep Georgiana safe.

Jonathan Gardiner nodded thoughtfully but then showed the practical bent for which his father was so proud. "Yes, though I shan't be able to watch her every minute--'tis an impossible task. I am glad that my parents have Nurse Susan to help."

Their conversation was interrupted when William noticed Elizabeth approaching with the Gardiners. Before he quite knew what was happening, his arms were filled with a squirming, blanket-wrapped bundle.

The Gardiners and their niece all smiled to see the tall, serious young gentleman from Derbyshire automatically shift the baby so that her head was supported; his attention was entirely focused on the pair of blue eyes staring up at him curiously.

Mr. Gardiner cleared his throat. "Mr. Darcy, we were wondering if you and your wife would do us the honor of being our little Anne Elizabeth's godparents?"

It was the first that William had heard the newborn's full name, and his warm eyes met those of Mrs. Gardiner, silently thanking her for the tribute to his own mother. Elizabeth had come to stand at his elbow and he leaned toward her slightly as she re-tucked the blanket to cover the littlest Miss Gardiner's tiny toes. They shared a smile.

"It would be our honour, sir."

The Darcys did not stay much longer after that, for the baby began to yawn and her parents were clearly exhausted. William and Elizabeth were quiet on the ride home; after exchanging some comments on the baby's similarities to her parents and happy demeanor, each retreated to their thoughts.

The next morning, William awoke with a start in the dim dawn light. He was immediately aware that he was alone in the bed, a situation that had not occurred since his marriage.

Will and Elizabeth were both accustomed to waking early, but whereas Elizabeth Bennet had often shared her bed with sisters or cousins and slept deeply, Darcy was unaccustomed to sharing his chamber (much less his bed) with anyone. He slept lightly and woke at his wife's slightest movement. Added to this was an unacknowledged fear that all of this bliss was just a dream… that he might wake up and find himself alone again.

Peering around the room, William quickly reassured himself that it was not the chamber near Georgiana's apartment in which he had lived as a bachelor. Initially he had worried, first that Elizabeth might not have the confidence to propose changes to the furnishings, and then that Mrs. Wilkins might be nettled when the new mistress suggested alterations to the house which that woman had managed for some years. He needn't have worried; between Elizabeth's amiability and his housekeeper's joy at having such a lovely young lady as mistress, they had formed an easy relationship.

Returning to the present, Darcy levered himself out of bed and pulled on a robe. After peeking into Elizabeth's dressing room but finding it empty, he turned toward the room they had decided to use as their private sitting room.

Elizabeth was curled up in a window seat, staring out into the gray early morning light. He guessed that she had been reading letters, for several pages were in her lap and others lay in a loose pile by her feet. Her melancholy attitude immediately worried him.

"Liz?" he asked softly and was reassured when she turned toward him and smiled.

In truth, she smiled every time that he used that nickname, for it was only in their most private, most intimate moments that he did not address her as 'Elizabeth' or 'Mrs. Darcy.'

"Will--are you awake already? I had hoped that you might get a bit more rest this morning."

She held out her hand and he took the invitation to kiss it and then settle at her feet. "I've slept enough. But what of you?"

She shrugged and looked at the pages in her lap. "Oh, I woke early and couldn't settle again, so rather than tossing about and forcing you to share in my wakefulness, I decided to finish reading my mail, as you see."

She smiled but he could tell that her heart wasn't completely in it. He squeezed her hand. "What is wrong, then?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth and then shut it without speaking, swallowing the denial on her tongue. Sternly, she reminded herself that if she expected her new husband to treat her with honesty and respect, then she needed to return the favor consistently. She took a moment, appreciating once again that William gave her the time to think and did not feel the need to fill every silence with meaningless chatter.

Finally she gestured toward several pages that she had shifted to the floor when William sat down. "Mama wrote… she began the letter on the day after Jane and Charles left Netherfield… it is filled with her usual type of useless counsel and unwanted opinions…"

Darcy glanced down at the pages but tore his eyes away before he might read any of his new mother-in-law's so-called wisdom. Having dealt with the aftermath of some of Mrs. Bennet's counsel to her unmarried daughters before their wedding day (and night), he truly did not wish to know what that lady might say after.

"She cares for you and your sisters a great deal." That seemed safe enough, he thought.

Elizabeth smiled at his diplomatic response. "Yes, she does, I suppose." Her face fell when her mind returned to those thoughts that had brought on her gloom.

"What is it, love? Please tell me or I shall be forced to imagine something very dreadful."

That made her smile again, for his tendency to interpret the worst possible scenarios had become a running joke between them. "She has received her invitation to the Matlock ball and is… well, you can imagine. I have been sitting here imagining all the ways she might embarrass us and plotting how I might arrange for her not to attend… and then I feel horribly guilty, for why should she not be excited that an Earl is hosting a grand ball in honor of her daughter's marriage?"

The pair was silent for a moment, each thinking on aspects of Mrs. Bennet's personality. Unable to resist the sight of Elizabeth's toes peeping out from under her robe, William drew her foot into his lap and began massaging it with his thumbs.

With an appreciative smile, Lizzy tossed aside the letter she had been reading before he came. "Nothing from my father--I suppose I should not have expected him to write… and then this letter from Charlotte."

Seeing her chin drop, Will guessed that this last meant rather more than her dismissive tone suggested. "What does Mrs. Collins have to say? I hope that Lady Catherine is not making her life too difficult." Since their altercation in the summer, Darcy had ceased to refer to that lady as 'aunt' and stubbornly insisted that he would continue to ignore her until she apologized to Elizabeth and welcomed his wife into the family with some modicum of sincerity.

"No, or rather, not much more than usual." Elizabeth paused before continuing. "Charlotte has had her baby; 'tis a boy, and both are well. She sounds very content--Lady Lucas stayed at Hunsford during the last month, but Charlotte seems to have had an easy confinement and is already seeing to the household and her parishioners. It appears that their greatest problem is deciding on a name for the child; Charlotte would like to call him William for her father and husband, but Mr. Collins would very much like to discover some masculine form of 'Catherine.'"

Darcy couldn't quite stop a snort. "Surely you are jesting…"

Lizzy rolled her eyes. "I tease you not. For now, everyone is referring to him as 'Baby Collins.'"

They both chuckled but William also noted that the melancholy had returned to her eyes. "What is wrong, love? You are worried about the ball, and believe me I understand, having a number of relations whose behavior I dare not trust myself, but that is not all…"

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders but after a minute, she responded softly. "This note from Charlotte… I am happy to see her so content… but her letter also brings home how much our relationship has changed." She looked up, suddenly realizing how important it was that he understood. "She is still my girlhood friend, but there is a distance that was not there before, resulting from our change in situations. I am married to a close relation of her husband's patroness, and Charlotte has just given birth to the next heir of Longbourn."

That caught Darcy's attention and he looked at her more carefully; in truth, he had not considered the broader implications of the new babe's gender to her family. "It is a hard thing to see land that has been in one's family for so many generations go to another, but Mr. Collins or his son shall have to adopt the Bennet name as his own before either may inherit, so in a way, it will stay within your family." Will caught her blink of surprise that told him that he had not quite identified the cause of her blue mood.

However, before he could say anything further she cuddled up against him and spoke, "When I was younger, I wished rather fervently that I had been born a boy… in hindsight I suppose it was prompted in no little part by my mother's lamentations over the entail." She grinned up at him. "When I was six, just after Lydia was born, I went to my father with quite an extensive plan for how we would pretend that I was a boy."

Elizabeth burst into giggles. "I hadn't thought of that memory in a long time--how Papa kept a straight face I shall never know! When he inquired as to how we would explain that I had been presented to the neighborhood as a little girl for so long, I told him quite seriously that, as Mama had so little experience with boy children it would be easily understood that she had merely made a mistake upon my birth."

Easily picturing a young Elizabeth presenting such a plan to her father, Darcy chuckled even as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her to him. "Well I, for one, am exceedingly glad that you were not born a boy."

Rather than the laughter that he expected, he caught only a tight smile before she rested her cheek against his chest again. Squeezing her to him, he kissed her hair and spoke softly, "You are not happy, my love. Please, tell me what is wrong."

Elizabeth tensed slightly before turning her head so that her voice was muffled in his cravat. "I am not with child--my courses came this morning."

"Oh," said William, rather dumbly. Oooohhhh, he thought, abruptly reminded that having a wife was quite different from any other friend or companion that his previous life had admitted. "I… err… um…"

My elocution tutor would be so proud, he thought to himself sarcastically. Pull yourself together, man! "But we have been married little more than a fortnight, Elizabeth… surely you did not think… I had not even considered…"

Somehow, his inarticulate mumblings were just what Elizabeth needed to hear. She sat upright so that she might look him in the face and the flustered agitation she saw there lightened her mood even more. "It truly never even occurred to you, did it?" She cocked her head to the side in a manner that would have relieved him, had he not already been so discombobulated that he could not meet her eye.

"I… err…" Darcy took a deep breath and forced himself to settle. Tentatively meeting her eyes, he admitted, "I am very new to being a husband, as we both know… I look forward to having a child… children, God willing… but for now, I am very happy just to have you."

Almost to herself, Elizabeth murmured, "and that is just what I would have thought you would say if I were being sensible… I know not why I let myself get into such a dither." Suddenly she threw up her hands in exasperation at the solemn mood and dramatically fell back onto his lap where she might look up at him. She touched his cheek and smiled when he turned his head so as to kiss her palm.

"You are a unique man, Fitzwilliam Darcy. Most gentlemen of your station would be quite fixated on having an heir born as soon as possible."

William soothed them both by running his fingers through her curls. "Most men of my station are not as desperately in love with their wives as I am."

Elizabeth blushed prettily and looked up at him with the sort of absolute affection that he had so long despaired of meriting from this sparkling creature. "My dearest, loveliest, Elizabeth… If and when we are blessed with children, I shall be overjoyed… you know I will. But I am selfish enough to wish to have you to myself for a bit longer."

Chucking his chin with her finger, she smiled up at him. "How do you know just the right thing to say?"

"Having lived through the effects of saying the wrong things, I shall reply only that I try very hard."

Chapter 40. A More Aweful Object.

Posted on 2011-07-31

October 1818

Mr. and Mrs. Darcy enjoyed a relatively quiet Saturday at their London home. The knocker remained off the door indicating that they were not at home to callers (although this did not halt the delivery of a small avalanche of cards), and a steady rain kept the occupants from venturing outside (however much Elizabeth might wish for a walk in the park).

Instead, William attempted to work through some investment reports from his banker while Elizabeth met with Mrs. Wilkins and began learning the household. Two hours later, her mind swimming with ledgers, menus, and staffing issues, Lizzy settled down in her new study to face the rather voluminous correspondence that had already accumulated for the new Mrs. Darcy.

She dutifully penned a reply to her mother, a task that required a surprising amount of care given that she must expect every detail it contained to be spread about Meryton within hours of its receipt. Far easier was the note to Jane, letting her sister know that the Darcys were happily settled in London and would welcome a call whenever the Bingleys returned to England. Finally, after several false starts, she also managed to produce a short but sincere letter congratulating Mr. and Mrs. Collins, doing her best to focus her thoughts on their child's future and not on his making.

Regardless of her success, she was pleased when William entered the room just as she was sanding the last page. "Have you become desolate, off alone in your study?" she inquired impertinently.

Darcy was not prepared to admit that he had spent much of his morning staring out of the window, daydreaming about his wedding trip and imagining excuses to whisk his wife back to their bed chamber. "You appear to have gotten quite a lot done."

If Elizabeth noted his slightly petulant tone, it was quickly forgot when he set a small box with a white ribbon before her on the desk. "Oh, and what have I done to deserve a present? You shall spoil me, and then where shall we be?"

Will came behind her to touch his lips to her hair. "Precisely where I want us," he whispered in her ear, enjoying the way her skin blushed wherever he touched it.

Pausing for a moment to run his hands down her arms, he looked again at the package. "Unfortunately, I fear it is nothing very romantic… let us say that it is a 'Mrs. Darcy' sort of gift."

Elizabeth rose so that she might kiss him properly. "But I am quite pleased with such a present, for I am very happy to be Mrs. Darcy."

This required such a warm, husbandly response that it was some time until any more attention was paid to the little box.

They cuddled together on the settee until William was finally forced to admit that its unpadded arm was digging into his back in a most uncomfortable manner. "That decides it! Next week we are visiting the furniture makers… surely they must have something more comfortable for two people to sit upon!"

With a puckish glint in her eye, Lizzy teased, "Well, as most of our existing furniture is quite pleasant to sit upon, I fear that you shall have to be more explicit as to your requirements… shall you like explaining why there is a chaise large enough for two to recline upon in your wife's study? May I use it when I receive callers?"

She was well pleased with the blush that arose on William's neck, but even more with his wry reply. "I believe that the library shall need one as well… and perhaps the music room."

Elizabeth burst into giggles. "Oh Will, I should like to see your face if such furniture was in the music room when Georgiana received a gentleman caller!" She could feel her husband tense beneath her hand and it only made her laugh harder.

The pained tone of Darcy's voice was only partially pretext. "Do not torture me with such thoughts… Oh, very well. I suppose that we shall be forced to keep it to our sitting room." He had decreed that the room off their bedchamber was to be perfectly private, off limits to all matter of guests and relations.

In the ensuing laughter, the couple failed to hear a tapping at the door. Thus, when Derwent House's august butler entered, he was somewhat shocked by his master and mistress' informal pose. To his credit, only a slight widening of his eyes resulted. "I beg your pardon, sir, madam; I knocked and thought that I heard you call to enter."

Elizabeth had sat up immediately and was doing her best to pretend that her curls were not tumbling about her shoulders. Darcy immediately assumed his 'Master of Pemberley' voice. "Err… yes, very well, Holmes, but in the future it would be best if you knocked a bit louder and waited a moment longer. Now, is there a problem?"

"Of course, sir. No problems at all, sir, just the morning post." Mr. Holmes proffered a silver tray with several envelopes. "Also, quite a number of cards have been delivered and I wished to know if I should continue to direct them all to your study, sir."

William was about to absently brush aside the odd question when he noticed that the servant had turned his focus toward Elizabeth. Mrs. Darcy. Will very nearly slapped his forehead.

"An excellent question, Holmes--I fear that I am still becoming accustomed to Derwent House having a mistress as well as a master." He thought for a moment--he had a vague notion of what duties fell within the Mistress' domain, but no practical experience. Luckily, Elizabeth had no qualms with speaking up.

"I believe that it would be best to continue taking all the cards to Mr. Darcy's study for now, Holmes. We shall be sending around our own soon enough and, as there are still many of my husband's acquaintances whom I have yet to meet, sorting through the cards together may well save us the embarrassment of forgetting someone." She raised an eyebrow at William and he quickly nodded his approval.

When the servant had departed, shutting the door firmly behind him, Darcy turned to Elizabeth with a concerned look wrinkling his brow. "I apologize; I should have thought of that ahead of time and instructed the servants."

Lizzy merely rolled her eyes. "Believe it or not, I do not expect you to remember everything." When he continued to look uneasy, she sighed and took his hand. "William, I am your wife, not your baby sister. My mother may make a great show of her nerves, but she trained all her daughters in running a household, from attics to cellars. And what she did not teach me, I learned from the Gardiners. Truly, though your house may be on a much larger scale than Longbourn, the fundamentals are the same."

Suddenly, Darcy realized that his attempts to arrange everything for Elizabeth could be taken as a lack of trust in her competence. He rushed to reassure her. "I have every confidence that your abilities are up to the task… I apologize--I suppose that I am accustomed to doing it all… trying to keep too much from falling upon Georgiana's shoulders…"

"Yes, that is just what I would have thought of you." Elizabeth smiled and placed her hands on his chest to take any sting out of what she would say next. "But you must let me see to some things or I shall feel quite useless… or worse, word will get around that you do not trust your new wife to manage the household properly… Though I suppose such a rumour would give Miss Bingley and her cronies a certain degree of satisfaction."

William groaned and Lizzy knew that her point had been taken. After several minutes of mutual reassurance, Darcy brought her attention back to his gift. As she unwrapped it, he noted with affectionate amusement how carefully she unknotted the ribbon and set it aside; most of his own female relatives would never have considered saving such a thing.

While Will considered how uncomfortable he would have been had he married a spendthrift, Elizabeth had opened the little box and picked out a newly engraved gold seal, similar to the much older signet ring that William wore habitually and used to seal all his mail. She traced her new initials where they were formed in an ornate script above the Darcy crest, the ends of the letters extending around the margin as vines of ivy.

Worried when Elizabeth did not speak for some moments, Darcy cleared his throat. "I chose the ivy for its dual meanings--friendship as well as love, and fidelity in marriage… but we can have a new one made if you dislike this design…."

Before he could say more, Elizabeth turned and threw her arms around his neck. "It is perfect… thank you so much… More than anything you could give me, it makes me feel as if this is all real… permanent… that I belong here."

Mr. and Mrs. Darcy retired to their rooms soon after that.

Sometime later, Will was lying on his back, dozing contentedly, when he felt the bed sheets move. Turning his head slightly, he caught sight of his wife picking bits of melted beeswax from the bedside candle and softening them in her hand. When she moved back to his side with a smile, he mumbled affectionately, "What are you up to, Liz?"

She pressed the bit of warmed wax onto his skin, just over his heart. "Why, I am making use of my new gift, of course!" She proceeded to carefully press her seal into the soft wax on his chest. "Now everyone shall know that you are mine."

Will had to tuck his chin to be able to see his wife's mark. "Hmmm… I fear that the wax shall crumble in my next bath. Shall I go down to the dockyards and have it tattooed, then?"

Elizabeth burst into giggles at the thought of her serious, upstanding husband in a sailors' ink shop. She leaned over so that she might rest her chin on his chest and ran a fingernail around the edges of the wax. "And then, whenever we are at a party and some other lady flirts with you, I shall only have to step up and rip open your shirt to show that you belong to me!"

After his deep chuckle joined her giggles for some minutes, Lizzy found herself rolled onto her back, her husband covering the full length of her body and his face inches from her own. "You are branded on my heart, my dearest, loveliest Liz. A heart that was never touched before and which is now and will always be yours alone for the rest of our lives."

After kissing him as warmly as such a statement surely deserved, Elizabeth let her head fall back against the pillow. "I suppose that I am fretting a bit over the Matlock ball," she confessed softly, finger playing with the one unruly curl that always fell across his forehead.

William wrinkled his brow. "I was out in Society for nearly ten years, but you are the only one I have wished to marry… surely you are not concerned that…"

"Oh, no, not that!" said Lizzy quickly, realizing that he had not followed line of thinking. "I have no concerns about you."

Will was reassured by the astonished look on her face, for it would have hurt him deeply if she had doubted his devotion.

"I only meant that, though you know all the personalities who will be attending, I do not… I was considering it this morning; I can navigate Meryton Society without even thinking about it because I know who dislikes whom, what topics to avoid in conversation, who is likely to be vicious, and so forth. This shall be an entire roomful of strangers…"

Understanding a little better, William kissed her pert nose. "And neither of us perform well to strangers."

Elizabeth smiled, as he had intended her to, but when he went on to reassure her that he would not leave her side throughout the night, her expression became serious again and she shook her head. "I appreciate your dedication to protecting me, dearest, but you know it is not possible for you to be constantly by me."

She kissed his chin, trying to sooth his obvious concern. "I am probably making a mountain out of a molehill… I have met many ladies of this circle during the times that I stayed with the Gardiners and helped Aunt Maddy and Mrs. Watson with their charity work."

"The people who put significant time into charity work are usually not the ones whom you must be wary of at a ball," muttered Will.

"Yes, and I fear that I shall not recognize someone important and make some terrible faux pas." Suddenly Elizabeth brightened and tapped his chest with a finger so that she had his full attention. "Perhaps I shall have a chat with your Aunt Eleanor--we should go over the guest list anyway."

William nodded consideringly; it was an excellent idea, for certainly the Countess could advise Elizabeth on the array of personalities attending the ball better than himself. Suddenly he recalled a note he had read earlier and set aside. "Actually, she may have thought of it already. I received a note from the Earl asking if we plan to attend services at St. George's on Hanover Square in the morning and inviting us for Sunday luncheon at Matlock House."

Elizabeth studied him for a moment. "You don't sound terribly enthusiastic about the idea."

He shrugged. "Georgiana and I usually attend the early service at Grosvenor Chapel on South Audley Street. St. George's is quite…"

"Large?"

His pained look made her giggle. "I was going to say crowded, but both are true. As the chapel-at-ease, Grosvenor is considered small and… well, less showy than St. George's. 'Tis a mix of gentry and trades folk and so forth. I suppose we prefer it because it reminds us of Lambton."

Lizzy smiled. "Quite a liberal sentiment, Mr. Darcy.

"The Chapel also has a history of attracting some of the most promising theological students as curates, so the services are generally of a very high standard."

"And at St. George's?"

Not liking to criticize a member of the clergy, Will paused and chose his words carefully, "The rector there holds several other livings, but he makes a point of taking the pulpit when the church is… full." Seeing her curious look, he shut his eyes and admitted, "Mr. Poole is rather more concerned with his place in Society than I might generally wish to see in a priest."

Elizabeth smiled comfortingly. "Ah, well… at least he cannot be another Mr. Collins."

"Thank God!" muttered William fervently, truly appalled at such a thought.

When their laughter quieted, Lizzy suggested a solution. "As my preferences are much like your own, I expect that I should prefer the chapel as well. However, I suspect that Mr. and Mrs. Darcy should make at least one appearance at St. George's while we are in town. Let us accept your uncle's invitation and make a day of it, shall we?"

William grunted. "A very wise suggestion, but I should still prefer to attend the early service at the chapel."

"And so we shall… next Sunday."

Once Will was convinced, his mind returned to his relations. "When I consider it, I am surprised that Aunt Eleanor has not already volunteered to…" He trailed off, not quite certain how to phrase his thought without raising the subject of the difference in the Bennets' social position.

"Educate your new wife?" Elizabeth grinned. "She has indicated that she would be happy to help me prepare for the spring Season--my presentation at court and so forth--it shall all work out quite nicely with Georgiana's debut coming at the same time."

She giggled at the grimace that always creased Darcy's face whenever the subject of his baby sister's coming out was raised. This time he responded with kisses. "I… do not… wish… to think… about that… right… now…"

Mrs. Davies was rather irked when the Master and Mistress were late coming down for dinner, causing her soup to sit longer than it should and the fish to dry. However, their excellent spirits and the enthusiastic praise for her cooking that was carried down to the kitchen with the empty plates did a great deal to sooth her displeasure.

The next morning, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy did indeed garner a great deal of attention when they descended from their carriage before St. George's cathedral. Elizabeth was amused to see that many of the ladies were dressed as if for a grand ball. Had the Darcy family pew not been so close to the front, their view of the pulpit might have been entirely hidden by feathers.

As William had predicted, the service was theologically sound but uninspired. Still, Elizabeth was well pleased when the congregation was called upon to sing one of her favorite hymns, and several of the more devout in the audience noted approvingly that neither of the Darcys required their hymnal.

When the service finally concluded, Darcy prepared himself to brave the crowd, guessing correctly that there was a barely controlled, seething curiosity over his new bride. His skin fairly crawled with the sensation of staring eyes and his visage was as stony as any in London had ever seen it.

Stony, that was, until a certain lady touched his arm and whispered something that no one else could hear. Mr. Darcy did not exactly smile, but a dozen small changes softened his expression such that the affection he felt for his wife was obvious to any who cared to look. Before he could do more than squeeze her hand and tuck it around his arm, his Fitzwilliam relations had reached them.

"Darcy, Elizabeth… Excellent! Good to see you both," boomed the Earl sincerely, though with one eye already on a political crony to whom he wished to speak.

He was rapidly replaced by the Countess, whose greetings were equally sincere if perhaps more focused. Lady Eleanor was extremely pleased to see her nephew looking so well and the happiness that the couple shared was immediately clear to her. With her elder son married to a lady whom the Countess could barely stand and her younger showing no signs of resigning his bachelor status, the marriage of her favorite nephew to a charming, intelligent young lady pleased her no end. The Countess of Matlock was determined to bring her not inconsiderable power to bear in making certain that the new Mrs. Darcy was a great success in Society.

"Elizabeth, my dear… has Darcy introduced you to Mr. Poole yet?" When the younger woman admitted that he had not, Lady Eleanor nodded decisively. "Well then, let us get that duty over with and then we can depart. William--come along, nephew."

Darcy dutifully detached himself from his cousins and escorted his wife and aunt to meet the priest. This was not difficult as that gentleman was already making his way toward them.

Thomas Poole was an earnest gentleman in his early thirties. He had taken orders because that was what younger sons in his family did, and he took the advancements offered because of his connections as his due. He performed his clerical duties conscientiously if without any great enthusiasm, and if some wealthy heiress were to grant him the honor of her hand and alter his place in the world, he would not regret it.

As a result, Mr. Poole greeted Mr. Darcy's new wife with an eager smile and outstretched hand. "Mrs. Darcy, I am very glad to meet you. I was exceedingly sorry to hear that you and Mr. Darcy decided not to hold your wedding here at St George's." The cleric's attempt to ingratiate himself fell somewhat flat, aided not at all by the breeze's displacement of the rather oily mat of hair that had been attempted to cover his bald spot.

"My wife wished to be married from her home parish in Hertfordshire; I am sure you will understand," said Mr. Darcy, a little shortly.

Elizabeth squeezed his arm slightly and gently turned the conversation. "Your church is beautiful, Mr. Poole. The stained glass windows simply glow in the morning light."

The cleric puffed his chest as if he had designed and paid for the windows himself. "Thank you, Madam. It is said that the Queen herself prefers them to those adorning her chapel at Saint James'."

Unfortunately, the gentleman's focus was not long drawn away from his own self-interest. "But where is Miss Darcy? She admired the windows herself just this last spring and we were going to arrange an appointment for her to sketch them."

Knowing just what he was about, Lady Eleanor took control of the conversation before her nephew might cut the man off at the knees. "Miss Darcy is in the country visiting some cousins. Now Mr. Poole, the Ladies' Society for the Poor shall be meeting on Tuesday, the last before everyone goes off to the country for the winter. Is there anything in particular that you would like us to work on over the Christmas season? I have been thinking of blankets for the babies and orphans; they are practical enough to be of use to the recipients, but would give those ladies who desire it a worthy medium to exhibit their embroidery skills."

Mr. Poole's attention was easily diverted and Mrs. Darcy's obvious interest encouraged him such that they were soon making plans for something of a genteel contest among the ladies of the parish to encourage them in their work.

While Elizabeth and Lady Eleanor spoke to the priest and the Earl was mingling with his peers, Darcy turned to Colonel Fitzwilliam. "It is good to see you, Richard. Will you be joining us for luncheon?"

His cousin nodded absent-mindedly and then jerked his head, indicating for William to follow him to a corner where they might converse unheard.

"What is it? Is Georgiana…"

Richard made a small motion with his hand. "No, no… Georgiana is perfectly well. It is just…" He trailed off.

Darcy, already edgy because of the crowd, was becoming increasingly impatient. "What, then? You are obviously concerned about something, Richard."

The Earl's younger son scratched the back of his neck, an old sign of unease that had lost him more card games than he cared to admit. "Err… It is nothing really wrong, per say… just that, well… how much of a hand have you and Elizabeth had in the planning of this ball that my parents are hosting next week?"

This response was not at all what William had been expecting and he could only shake his head in confusion. "None at all. Why?"

Richard sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Mother and Father were talking about it over breakfast… I thought that I should warn you that it is turning into quite the extravaganza."

This time it was Darcy who raised an eyebrow.

Richard shrugged and glanced toward his parents. "I am sure that you knew Mother would invite all of Society who matters, but apparently there is an important vote coming up in parliament and the Earl has taken it upon himself to turn your ball into a political event as well. You know that parliament breaks next week? Well, not only is practically the entire House of Lords (and some of the Commons) invited, but people are actually returning from the country for it." The Colonel suddenly grinned. "My dear, unsocial cousin, the ball honouring your marriage to the lovely Miss Bennet is going to be the event of the year, and possibly the decade, Little Season or no."

William positively blanched, but before he could think of anything to say, Elizabeth appeared at his elbow. Smiling brightly, she gave no sign that she was aware of her husband's upset. "William, are you ready to leave? The carriage has just been brought around and I fear it shall block traffic if we delay long. Colonel, would you care to join us?"

Darcy assented immediately and, after thanking Elizabeth for the invitation, Richard stepped away to inform his sister that he would not need his seat in their barrouche. When he returned, he could see by the couple's expressions that William had related his news to his wife. Thankfully, the lady appeared more amused than upset.

When the Colonel mentioned this, the new Mrs. Darcy merely laughed and responded, "Ah, well… as I have said before, my courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me."

Her words sounded only vaguely familiar to Richard but were obviously meaningful to Darcy. That pair exchanged such a warm look of mutual understanding that the Colonel suddenly felt excruciatingly alone, despite being surrounded by his closest family.

By the time the Darcy carriage had reached Grosvenor Square, William had not only come around to agreeing that such a ball could not be worse than any of those which he had attended as a single man of large fortune, but even that it might be a good strategy to expose themselves to as much of Society as possible in a single evening, rather than drawing out the curiosity of the Ton.

Richard spoke a little during the short trip, but mostly watched and appreciated his cousin's very great fortune in making such a match. He had no jealousy for the lady herself (he admired the former Miss Bennet very much but was well aware that her sparkling intellect would have proven too much for him upon longer exposure). Rather, he found himself envious of his more cerebral cousin, not of Darcy's wealth or independence, but of his situation in being married to a woman so well suited to his personality and character.

The Earl and his wife led them all directly to the dining room and, luckily for the Colonel, the party was lively enough that his lack of spirits went unnoticed. At one end of the table, Mrs. Darcy appeared to be tactfully interrogating his mother about the upcoming ball, while at the other, the Earl was happily expounding upon his tactics for swinging the upcoming vote behind his current cause. Richard was amused to note that, while Darcy sat at Lord Henry's elbow and appeared to give his elder relation every consideration, he seemed excessively aware of the conversation occurring at the other end of the table.

This impression was supported when, at the end of the meal, William moved promptly to his wife's side and looked to her with pointed curiosity. Elizabeth merely smiled at him comfortingly before turning back to his aunt. "Lady Eleanor, I believe that Mr. Darcy might like to see that guest list as well."

To his credit, William did not lose his temper when faced with the many pages of invitees, nor even when his uncle wandered over and mentioned that he had invited a few of the gentlemen with whom he had spoken after church. Even so, it was probably a good thing when the Colonel's sister joined the group.

Lady Lucy still grieved for her dashing young husband, Colonel Wallace, but was determined to begin enjoying life again. She was excessively pleased with her cousin's choice of a wife and had every intention of befriending the new Mrs. Darcy. The Matlock ball would be her first major social event since coming out of mourning and the sight of the guest list was enough to make even an Earl's daughter catch her breath.

"Goodness, Mother! I don't think I know even half of these people! And for another quarter, I know the name but I can't put a face to it for the life of me!" Lucy caught a certain look in her new cousin' s eye that suggested she was not alone.

Lady Eleanor considered her daughter's comment carefully, although her thoughts were more focused on the sudden realization that the larger the crowd, the more miserable Darcy would be. As a result, it was imperative to make Elizabeth as comfortable as possible, for the Countess was rapidly recognizing that young lady's ability to ease William's way in society. Eleanor nudged the stack of papers so that the corners were squared. "We might go to the theatre next week. I'm not sure what is playing, but it would give us the opportunity to meet people during the intermissions…"

"Oh yes--and peek at them from our box!" exclaimed Lucy, her high spirits only partially quelled by the disapproving look from her mother (which, it must be admitted, was only half-hearted). "What say you, Darcy? Elizabeth?"

The newlyweds shared a glance before agreeing to the plan. In short order a maid was sent for the latest broadsheets and Lucy had identified a likely performance at the Little Theatre on Drury Lane in several days time. When William commented that he had seen the play before, she shushed him and giggled "Don't be obtuse, Cousin. We are not going to watch the play, but the audience!"

Not much later, the Darcys made their farewells and departed. It was a fine day and the couple decided to take a turn around the Square before returning to Derwent House. In general, Elizabeth was perfectly happy with their intervals of silent companionship, but the increasingly choleric look her husband was wearing convinced her that this was not the best time to enjoy a quiet walk.

For a moment, she flashed back to Mr. Bingley, standing in the Netherfield drawing room and proclaiming, "I declare I do not know a more aweful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and on particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening when he has nothing to do."

Elizabeth attempted to suppress a giggle, but even so she earned herself a raised eyebrow from her companion. "I was just considering what we might do to entertain ourselves this evening. Do you have a copy of this play we are to attend on Thursday? I have heard of it, but never read it."

If anything, Darcy's visage became even more cross. "Yes, it is somewhere in the library," he answered shortly.

"Did you dislike it that much? We needn't attend if it offends you so."

Suddenly realizing that she was not deserving of his temper, William shook his head slightly. "The play is perfectly acceptable." As an after thought, he added, "I apologize for my mood."

Anyone else of his acquaintance would have left the subject at that. However, Elizabeth had no intention of letting him stew over some unknown irritation. "And your mood is the result of…?"

He made a low noise in his throat but remained silent for several moments before finally admitting, "I suppose I had not envisioned spending quite so much time with my relations during our first weeks of married life." He sighed. "Why did we not remain in Kent?"

This time Elizabeth did not bother to hide her amusement. "We left Kent because there were various entertainments in London that we wished to attend… such as the theatre."

Darcy's lips twitched but he maintained his serious demeanor. "Humph. I should have stolen you off to the wilds of Scotland directly after the wedding."

Lizzy rolled her eyes. "Ah yes, I believe we considered that route but when the idea was aired, Mama suggested that we could transport Lydia to her new school… since we would be going in the same general direction and most young ladies are attended by a female relative during their wedding trip. Though I suppose we would have needed to invite Mary as well, as would be her right as the eldest."

By the end of her pretty speech, William was ready to admit that their current situation was entirely pleasing to him and could not possibly be improved upon. As a result, the visage that met the butler's eyes when he opened the front door of Derwent House to the Master was not at all aweful and, in fact, appeared quite merry.

Once their wraps had been taken, Elizabeth turned to William and spoke in a low tone that the servants would not overhear. "If you, sir, would be so good as to go by the library and choose such reading material as you might enjoy sharing with your wife in her bedchamber, I shall make arrangements so that we will not see another living soul for the remainder of the day."

The resulting smile on Mr. Darcy's face made the gentleman appear positively euphoric. If he took rather longer than usual to pick a book because he wished to choose just the right volume of romantic sonnets, then she did not chide him for it.