Upon the Darcy’s return from their honeymoon, local newspapers reported on the event, but did not get the facts entirely correct. She had not minded, but Mr. Darcy had, by nature being concerned with both pride and prejudice.
“The media seldom gets anything totally accurate,” he lamented to her, “and add adventure or intrigue when neither exist.” Both the Langton and Meryton weekly newspapers had published the identical article since the reporter who interviewed Mr. Darcy was in the employment of their same owner, Lord Raymond Henderson, perhaps the wealthiest man living outside of London.
She had discoursed to her sister Jane Bingley about the factual discrepancies. “The newspaper reports said that we had honeymooned in Greece, in the city of Athens and on the island of Hyperion in the Greek Isles. It misspelled my given name, identifying me as Elisabeth with an ‘s’ instead of a ‘z.’ And Mr. Darcy and I had not honeymooned on the island of Hyperion, but Hydra. There is no such island in Greece as Hyperion.
“Further, the article reported that our ship had been attacked and boarded by Barbary pirates while sailing along the shores of Italy in the Mediterranean Sea. It said we had been questioned by Ottoman authorities regarding our involvement in an Athenian patriot plot to remove the Turkish government from Greece, and had returned to Pemberley with a Greek dog. The article did not mention that Mr. Darcy also liked cats, so as not to offend any cat-loving readers, but that he was allergic to them.
“In point of fact, no pirates were present on our voyage, nor had we been questioned by anyone regarding a revolutionary plot, which was merely alleged to have taken place. Also, Mr. Darcy acquired a dog later, upon our return to England. Furthermore, the mutt was not of Greek lineage, but British.”
Jane was aghast at the misinformation printed about her sister and Mr. Darcy. Neither Elizabeth nor Mr. Darcy regularly read the local papers and relied upon The Times of London for its accuracy, while her father, Mr. Bennet, tolerated the Langton and Meryton papers’ inaccuracies because they amused him.
It was a Wednesday morning in May and, God willing, the Darcy’s would be parents in the autumn, three months hence. Elizabeth looked forward eagerly to parenthood. And baby makes three. She had been so pleased when Mr. Darcy expressed his joy when she had told him she was with child. She was certain that her husband preferred that she would give birth to a boy, so there would be a son and heir to keep the family name going. She knew it was why most men of their times married. However, she was certain that Mr. Darcy would be just as happy, or perhaps almost, if they would be parents of a girl. The conception had happened on their wedding night, a night she would always cherish.
Sunshine and a gentle breeze wafted in behind Elizabeth through the nearby French windows which she had opened. She wore a new gossamer soft floral silk frock her husband had given her the day before, the bodice cut lower than she was accustomed to. The gift, among others, was also for their wedding anniversary.
Elizabeth had given Mr. Darcy a new pipe, an emerald green velvet smoking jacket and, telling him she hoped it was not too naughty, a pair of red, white, and blue silk undershorts that extended high above his knees, the motif a replica of the Union Jack. He said he loved the flag undergarment, but she had yet to see him wear it, although she often saw him au natural, most often at bedtime. Neither of them were modest in front of each other, when alone.
Elizabeth finished playing and read her letter with surprise and interest. Later that afternoon, Mr. Darcy returned from riding with almost too agreeable Charles Bingley, his closest friend who was her sister Jane’s handsome husband. Bingley’s strongest desire was to please his wife and everyone within his sphere. Mrs. Bingley was confident he would never stray, because it would displease her.
Seated on a couch in the music room of the sprawling manor house, with its floral papered walls and elaborately framed paintings, Elizabeth felt a tingle run up her spine as Mr. Darcy leaned over and kissed her on the nape of her neck. No one but he had ever kissed her there, and she loved it. He seemed to enjoy that intimacy with her when alone, and her maid was dusting in the library. In public, he was still more the reserved and even the distant stoic everyone had grown accustomed to him being. He certainly was not reserved or distant when they were in bed together.
Darcy then went to the French Windows and closed them, exercising a veto over her having opened them. She thought the room was stuffy and considered exercising a rare veto over his veto, but decided not to waste her vetoes.
Vexed, Darcy said, “My umbrella is not in its customary place in the vestibule umbrella stand.”
“There is no chance of rain,” Elizabeth replied casually. “The district has been in a drought for months.” He was adamant. “Still, the weather could change and it could rain at any moment. My umbrella must be in its customary place at all times. It is just that I expect it to be there, if required.”
“I shall have Paula attend to it promptly,” said Elizabeth, thinking Darcy to be irrational on the subject.
“I will be most gratified, my dear,” he said. Elizabeth was glad to think of something to change the subject. “I just received a note from my dear friend Charlotte Collins, inviting us to tea tomorrow afternoon at the parsonage cottage at Hunsford. I miss her so much. I haven’t seen her since we returned from our honeymoon.”
“Oh, dear,” said Mr. Darcy under his breath. He, as did Elizabeth, dreaded being in the company of her friend’s husband whom he regarded as being an officious oaf, supercilious if not downright silly.
“She and Reverend Collins would like us to come to their home at the parsonage tomorrow for tea at three, to meet some young new acquaintances from Ireland who have been visiting for a few days. They’re very taken with them and are sure we would be, as well.”
“Are they children?” he asked.
“Charlotte did not say. Just that they are young. I wonder, too.” Mr. Darcy did not want to disappoint his wife by saying he detested the pompous Mr. Collins, as she well knew. But he would not feign an excuse so he could not join her. He knew she so wanted to again see her dear friend, and he did not want her to travel alone to Longbourn.
He worried that en route along forest roads, her carriage might be attacked by highwaymen who are robbers, or brigands who might demand extortion or kidnap and hold ladies hostage for ransom. He was a worrier by nature. She conjectured that it was touching of him to be so concerned for her safety.
“By all means, we shall accept the invitation,” said Mr. Darcy, loosening his silk paisley ascot. “But I doubt I shall ever take to the parson, as does his benefactor, my aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh. I do, however, genuinely like your friend Charlotte. Yet, I shall never be certain where her marriage to Mr. Collins was made in.”
Elizabeth chuckled. She tried to be more generous regarding the parson, but had to admit to herself that she shared her husband’s disdain of him. Charlotte was a living saint to have accepted the cleric whom she considered to be not only officious but devious. But her friend had been 27 and plain and feared she would remain a spinster the rest of her life, so she married Mr. Collins, not out of love but for security because he had a house and steady income from wealthy dowager Lady de Bourgh who chose him to be the pastor of the church at one end of her vast estate. She had wanted her nephew Mr. Darcy to marry her plain, sickly daughter, but he wisely chose Elizabeth instead.
There was no comparison. Elizabeth could never fathom why Lady Catherine had chosen Mr. Collins as her pastor, unless it was because she could easily dominate him. And he had professed to her that he had impressive credentials, having graduated magna cum laude from the best divinity school in England.
Elizabeth could hardly forget how odious and oppressive Mr. Collins had been to her when she had earlier turned down his arrogant proposal of marriage.
As she had said once before, she still would rather kiss a frog. Chapter Three The following morning, the Darcy’s took a carriage and two to the parsonage at Hunsford to have tea with the
Collins’s and meet their new friends from Ireland. En route, as their coachman drove them, Elizabeth, with her head resting on Darcy’s shoulder, reflected on her honeymoon with him.
She had never traveled outside of England and, in fact, had only been to London a few times. She otherwise had never gone farther north than on her first visit to Pemberley. Mr. Darcy, however, had told her he had taken the Grand Tour of Europe a few years previous, a generous twenty-first birthday gift from his loving aunt.
Elizabeth had hoped Mr. Darcy would take her to the Continent so she could see the capitals of the countries he had talked about and that she read so much about… Paris, Rome, Florence, Vienna, Berlin. She longed to see the Isle of Capri, thinking it to be very beautiful and romantic. But Europe was at war with Napoleon and they could not safely visit there. Similarly, England was at war with the colonies, so they could not venture to America.
Said Mr. Darcy upon reflection, “We could visit Greece. The war with Napoleon has been only peripherally engaged there. The Greeks, however, are at present occupied by the Turks of the Ottoman Empire. We British drove them out a few years ago but they are back again. Would you be pleasured if we honeymooned in Greece? I have yet to go there, since it was not on my Grand Tour, but have heard it is very beautiful, its islands possessing quaint villages and sunny beaches. And we could visit the historic sites such as the Acropolis and Parthenon..”
“Then do let us go to Greece. I should like to see the famous land-marks I know of only from books. But I shall look forward more eagerly to being with you on the sunny beaches.”
“I swim occasionally. Do you?”
“I swim like a minnow just learning. Perhaps you could teach me to swim more like a dolphin.”
“Basically, I swim like a beached whale, but will teach you what I know.” Her thoughts were full of his arms around her, giving her swimming instructions. The Darcy’s became paying passengers on a merchant sailing ship bringing British goods to Aegean Sea ports including carriages, jewelry, alcoholic beverages, and medicines. The captain cautioned them that they would not be allowed ashore from Dover to Athens, not even in Madrid since Napoleon himself was leading his troops in Spain, en route to capture Portugal. They would only be permitted a few hours ashore at ports where no fighting was being engaged.
The Darcy’s saw cannons aboard the ship and asked the captain about them. He explained, “The cannons are there less for fear of Napoleon than of Barbary pirates from the southern Mediterranean ports. They attack and invade merchant ships, confiscating their cargo as well as abducting any women aboard, to be sold as slaves.”
How exciting, thought Elizabeth, although she considered it to be perhaps fortunate if they did not encounter pirates on their honeymoon. However, she was of the opinion that Mr. Darcy had the makings of a successful pirate, he so often invaded her so conscientiously in their bedchamber. While she spent many hours reading from the ship’s meager library, there was little else to occupy him on the long voyage.
Otherwise weary of weeks of ship travel from the Atlantic Ocean through the Straits of Gibraltar into the Mediterranean Sea, the Darcy’s arrived in Athens wanting only to enjoy being on land again.
They rested a day and night at a small inn before even venturing into the ancient city. Elizabeth enjoyed more than merely recuperating, in bed with her piratelike husband. She had hoped their room would have a view, perhaps to the Acropolis, but it overlooked another less significant landmark, although they later learned it was a brothel, so it had some significance, Mr. Darcy thought, although he doubted he would frequent it.
When they asked the innkeeper if he could recommend a tour guide to show them the historic landmarks, he suggested a nephew of his. They met the young man and accepted his services, a lad of about nineteen whose countenance Elizabeth regarded as being uncommonly appealing.
He reminded her of drawings she had seen in books of a young Alexander the Great, although the lad was not blond but dark-haired. Introducing himself as Anthony Lamberis, he looked like a sailor to Elizabeth, wearing white trousers and a collarless shirt with horizontal red and white stripes across his chest. It was a prodigious chest, she decided.
The lad, who asked to be just called Tony, introduced a beautiful dark-haired young girl with him as his sister, Maria, and said that if they approved, she would join them in showing them The Glorious City. Mr. Darcy, taken by her beauty and assessing that she was perhaps a year or two younger than her brother, approved without hesitation. Elizabeth at first thought Mr. Darcy was a trifle too eager about accepting the girl’s company as co-tour guide, but decided not to be concerned.
Mr. Darcy was and always would be, she was confident, a faithful husband, as she was and always would be a faithful wife. Temptation and even passion might afflict them with others, but their course, like the ship’s they had been on, always would be true. Prudence and temperance would be their guiding compass.
Their tour guide suggested they start the next morning by going to the Acropolis to see the Parthenon. “The Parthenon is important more architecturally than historically,” Tony said when they were standing in its ruins, red poppies growing amid the stones. “It was the most perfect building built by the world’s most perfect civilization.”
He is so proud of his country and its heritage. The Darcy’s wondered if they were as proud of theirs. Tony spoke on about the Acropolis. “The word Acropolis means upper city, and similar buildings were erected in other ancient Greek city states as a place of refuge when invaded by foreign legions. The Parthenon and other main buildings on the Acropolis were built by Pericles in the fifth century B.C., and the Parthenon was completed in 432 B.C. as a monument to the cultural and political achievements of the Athenians.
“The Parthenon’s columns are stones placed one on top the other. Each stone was cut unique and they all fit together like the world’s largest and heaviest jigsaw puzzle. No one yet knows how it was built, but ancient Greeks were master builders.”
The Darcy’s spent more than hour as their tour guide showed them more of the Acropolis. “To your left is a Hellenistic pedestal and on the right the tiny temple to Athena of Victory which commemorates the Athenians’ victory over the Persians. The temple contained a statue to the goddess Athena. The Turks took it down so as to use the platform for a large cannon, but we hope to one day have it restored, after the Turks are driven out of our country.”
Tony looked around them cautiously and whispered that last. “We may be being watched.”
“By whom?” asked Mr. Darcy.
“For what purpose?” asked Elizabeth.
“I shall tell you later, possibly.”
Elizabeth wondered if they were in some danger. After all, the country was under the control of the Turks. After luncheon at a café near the Acropolis, their tour guide took the Darcy’s to visit more ancient temples and ruins. The Temple of Zeus, the Olympian god, and the Temple of Hephaestus, patron of craftsmanship such as potterers and metal working.
By day’s end, Elizabeth had grown tired of temples, and could see that Mr. Darcy had, too. But she acquired a renewed interest when Tony’s sister suggested they visit the Temple of Aphrodite.
“It is dedicated to the goddess of love, beauty, pleasure, procreation, and sexuality,” said Maria. “Aphrodite was the Greek equivalent of the Roman goddess Venus.” That was good enough for Elizabeth.
Tony led Elizabeth away and whispered to her, “You arouse me. Can we meet in private?”
She was astonished. Her face flushed and her heart began to race. He was very handsome, she thought. But she would not be tempted. Or would she?
Maria led Darcy by an arm and whispered, “You must have Greek blood in you, you are so beautiful. Can we meet later?
Darcy thought, she certainly is beautiful. She wants me. Do I want her? By late afternoon, the Darcy’s were glad when Tony said he had to be somewhere and asked that he resume showing them the sights the next morning. They let him depart with Maria
and spent the evening at dinner and afterward in their bed. The long day’s sightseeing tired them too much to visit a café and listen to Greek music.
By late morning of the following day, the Darcy’s grew almost weary of walking amid ancient ruins. Elizabeth began to wonder, were she and her husband really as cultured as she had supposed? She began having her doubts, but did not linger about them or, more certainly, not fret about them. She more enjoyed the evenings, relaxing with Darcy at restaurants and cafes their tour guides recommended and took them there, but did not remain with them as they dined.
Elizabeth discovered that her husband was a connoisseur of wine. They tried to get used to Ouzo, an anise-flavored aperitif originally created by monks in a 14th century monastery, but soon instead drank Greek wines with their meals. Mr. Darcy delighted in adding to his knowledge of wines of the Continent by sampling Greek wines, telling her that Greeks began wine making more than 6,500 years before.
They had to learn which wine to have served with which meal, and Elizabeth thought Darcy became more occupied in pursuing that knowledge than he was of the city’s history. The occupation of
discerning the pantheon of Greek wines would take him some time, she decided, after Tony told them there were more than 300 indigenous varieties. Where did the brother and sister go after taking them to cafes and restaurants? Mr. Darcy more than Elizabeth wondered. They saw them frequently walking to join the company of some other young people and presumed they were off to spend the evening with them at some entertainment or other.
Elizabeth had been curious about something she had heard from her sister Jane before embarking for Greece.
“They say the Greeks have a word for them,” Jane had said.
“For whom?” asked Elizabeth.
Clouds Over Pemberley Page 2
