Elizabeth loved her husband so much, and knew he loved her equally. At times she thought she loved him beyond reason. But she would be cautious regarding their new acquaintances from Ireland, remembering her friend Charlotte’s uneasiness and concern.
“Mr. Collins wants something of the Irish,” Mr. Darcy said. “I feel it in my loins.”
Elizabeth suspected that the cautious, perhaps even suspicious side of his nature, was governing him.
“Whatever,” he said. “It is of no concern to us. We may never see the Irish after their visit to Pemberley.”
Mr. Darcy turned in his seat in the carriage and took Elizabeth’s cheeks gently in each hand and kissed her passionately on the lips. She loved it, but loved it even more when he leaned over behind her and kissed her on the nape of her neck. That intimacy pleasured her greatly, knowing he kissed her from his heart.
After the Darcy’s departed to return to Pemberley by way of visiting the Bingley’s, Mr. Collins spoke to the young people from Ireland in private, his wife Charlotte not attending, having been purposely excluded. He took them to his study in the parsonage so they would have privacy.
The young Irish could not guess about what he seemed eager to interview them. Perhaps it was a reckoning regarding payment for the parson’s funeral service and expenses for the burial of their father.
“I apologize, but we have no money to pay you our debt for your kindness to us and our father,” said Mr. O’Reilly.
“I anticipated that, if you will, and went ahead without considering it in delivering my funeral service and providing the burial for your father.”
“For which we both will be eternally grateful,” Miss O’Reilly assured him. “You are too kind.”
Mr. Collins shrugged off the compliment but also cherished it.
Mr. O’Reilly asked, “Is there by chance any way other than monetary that we might fulfill our obligation?”
“I’m pleased you asked, if you will. There is, and it is why, like, I have asked you to this interview.” Now the young Irish were even more curious, but wondered why he hesitated so much when he spoke. Sean decided it was just part of Mr. Collins’ officious nature.
“As you may have overheard,” Mr. Collins began, “my benefactress, Lady de Bourgh, has said she has not been, like, you know, entirely satisfied with my sermons.”
He received a nod of grimaced understanding.
“I have begun to consider a new subject that I am more certain will please her. I would like to enlist your assistance in my research for it, if you will.”
The young Irish both sat forward in their chairs, curious as to what the subject was to be and how they might be of assistance. But get to it, if you will!
“Basically, my sermon will be of a personal nature, if you will. Like, the subject is marital fidelity.”
Said Mr. O’Reilly, “My sister and I are both single and know nothing of the subject of marital infidelity.” “That is not required. If you will, I wish you both to forgive any indelicacy in what I am about to, like, basically suggest in explaining your participation. I would like your assistance in researching temptation and temperance, passion or prudence among men and women in the district, both married and single.”
The young Irish looked surprised, even astonished.
“However could we accomplish that?” Mr. O’Reilly asked.
“I do not ask you to, basically, participate in any infidelity or sexual promiscuity, if you will.”
Only Miss O’Reilly was visibly relieved. Mr. O’Reilly accepted the information with greater curiosity and even a tingle of excitement.
“You would both merely entice people with your uncommon beauty, leading them into, like, you know, temptation.”
“No physical contact?” Mr. O’Reilly asked, almost disappointed, to be certain of Mr. Collins’ wishes.
“That will not be required,” Mr. Collins assured them both. “But if you become, like, unable to exercise temperance…”
“Who are the ‘people’ you wish us to ‘tempt’?” Mr. O’Reilly asked. “They are the five sisters of my acquaintance who reside in the district. Three are married and two are still unwed. Your research would include the married sisters’ spouses, as well as the parents of the young ladies. Lady de Bourgh should like this.”
“Ten people!” Miss O’Reilly exclaimed.
“And we do not even know them,” said Mr. O’Reilly.
“I will shortly give you particulars, basically, if you will,” Mr. Collins said. “For now, I just wish to, like, seal the bargain.”
“Bargain?” Mr. O’Reilly asked.
“In exchange for your research services, I will, basically, forgive your monetary debt to me.” That evening the young Irish laid together in bed in Mr. O’Reilly’s bedchamber at The Royal Arms and he began making passionate love to Pippa. They Recalled the parson’s interview with them, and the bargain he offered, and their acceptance of it, t
Pippa said, in between being kissed and kissing, to salve her conscience, such as it was, “We accepted our task only because we are financially desperate, if not destitute.”
Said Sean, “Assuredly so. But we are about to begin an adventure in which it will not be easy, pretending to be brother and sister, as the parson introduced us. I had wondered why, and had not asked about it, but now believe I may understand.”
Pippa did not think she understood anything of it all, but accepted that her handsome husband knew best.
Chapter Five “Three down and two to go,” said Mrs. Bennet to Mr. Bennet, musing aloud as they sat in their parlor at Longbourn while Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy were having tea at the parsonage. “Finding husbands for Mary and Kitty will be my greatest challenge.”
Mr. Bennet did not look up at his wife from the Meryton weekly newspaper he was reading, but noticed his silly daughters cringe. Mrs. Bennet, with images of gentlemen callers dancing about in her head like butterflies, spoke then of her daughter Elizabeth’s husband. The match with Mr. Darcy was extremely fortuitous and she was certain that she herself would one day benefit from it. Should Mr. Bennet pass on and the house and Longbourn estate go to his cousin, the Reverend Collins, Elizabeth would surely insist that she come to live with her and her wealthy husband at their mansion, Pemberley House.
“I wonder now that I ever thought Mr. Darcy to be callous, aloof, and distant.” Mr. Bennet ventured cautiously. “Mrs. Bennet, your memory does not serve you well.” He knew when to attack, when to retreat, and when to merely hold his position with his volatile and silly wife.
“Nonsense, nonsense. I never thought ill of Mr. Darcy. But now I believe I have wronged him. He is in fact the most agreeable of gentlemen.”
Mary and Kitty tittered. “I know since Mr. Darcy’s marriage to our dear Elizabeth that it was just his way, to be cautious and perhaps even critical of those he really did not know, as I allow I was perhaps of him. I know now that I was quite unjust to him.”
Mr. Bennet cleared his throat but did not comment.
“Kitty, am I correct that you’ve been seeing a clergyman near Pemberley?” asked her mother. She waited for a reply, but none came. “And Mary, you’ve been seeing one of your Uncle Philip’s clerks. “Perhaps we should all have tea here together this Sunday.”
The girls cringed. Mary thought she would flee the house, if her mother tried to play matchmaker with her and any man she might see or speak to, even casually. Kitty would rather join a convent than accept any man her mother might choose for her. Or, she wondered, did the French Foreign Legion accept women?
Mr. Bennet looked at his wife from over the top of his newspaper. “I should not press the gentlemen, Mrs. Bennet. Do not play Cupid. The Lord is, after all, the master matchmaker. Leave nature take its course. And the course of true love can be circuitous, as Lizzy and Mr. Darcy found.”
“Nature needed help in its course, in the cases of our other daughters.” Mr. Bennet did not agree. “The girls chose their mates. I doubt it was entirely the
other way around. They set their bonnets for their future husband, as most women do. Now they will have to wear them.”
“They’re wearing their marital bonnets quite well, but I don’t share your opinion regarding Mr. Darcy. He may have set his hat for Lizzy long before she accepted him. She seemed to have, in fact, turned her bonnet away from setting it for him.”
“Bonnets and hats aside, they made good matches.”
“Lizzy and Jane are very well-off now. Even Lydia, since Mr. Darcy has put Mr. Wickham on a regular monthly allowance.”
“He will just gamble it away, and she will just buy more frocks and bonnets for herself,” said Mr. Bennet.
The girls tittered again.
Mrs. Bennett pondered aloud about the tea. “I wonder what I shall serve the gentlemen callers.”
Kitty said, “I should like to visit Lizzy. Perhaps this weekend.”
“As would I,” said Mary. “I shall send her a note presently, suggesting this very weekend.”
“Do write to Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet to her daughters. “Then, Mr. Bennet, you and I shall have the house to ourselves for a spell.”
Mr. Bennet said nothing, but felt a bout of indigestion coming on. Chapter Six After meeting the Irish at Mister Collins'. The Darcy's were en route to Netherfield late on Thursday afternoon. Elizabeth reflected on her honeymoon, which had been in two parts, the first in Athens. She then returned to the second part of her honeymoon, in the Greek Isles. If she could relive every moment of it with Mr. Darcy, she would in an instant, every day.
Eager to get to the most beautiful village and beaches as quickly as possible, they were told to go to the island of Hydra. From the port of Piraeus they sailed there by small boat, about an hour and half ride from Athens.
“The sea is the deepest blue I have ever seen,” Elizabeth told her husband, “while close to shore the waters are a gentle azure or turquoise.” Approaching, they could see that the isle of Hydra, named after wells there, was indeed beautiful, its harbor in the shape of a crescent, with a fortress along the gulf shoreline, then an incline up to not quite a mountain. Whitewashed cottages arose from the hills. Everywhere they looked, along woodland paths grew pine and olive trees and wildflowers including white daisies, wild purple Iris, orchids of many colors, and everywhere, bushes and trees of red, pink, or purple bougainvillea.
Once ashore, they asked about accommodations for tourists and were told that the two small inns were already occupied by other visitors from Athens or Italy. The best they could do except sleep on a beach would be to rent a room in a private home.
A friendly woman led them atop the village to the small white stone cottage that a fisherman and his wife, Demo and Helen Bratsolias, shared with her sister Angie. Their two beautiful young nieces, Kris and Tina, and their handsome husbands shared a small house next door. Elizabeth noted how Mr. Darcy was taken by the girls’ beauty and charm, but dismissed any temptation that he might take a special interest in either or both. He was, after all, on honeymoon with her. And the girls’ husbands were uncommonly good-looking.
The Bratsolias’s rented them a comfortable if sparsely furnished room and soon the Darcy’s settled into a bed chamber that opened onto a purple bougainvillealaden patio. They could sit under a table and umbrella to shield them from the sun, relax, and look down on the sea.
There were several Greek Orthodox churches and monasteries on the island, but few historic sites, for which they were almost glad. They strolled down a narrow dirt path from their domicile to the waterfront and then into the heart of the town, stopping at a café in the oldest neighborhood, called Kiafas. As they sat and had tea, clouds began covering the sky and rain was imminent so they returned to their room.
Later as evening fell and rain had passed, they had dinner at a restaurant their landlords had recommended. There they learned where the most relaxing beaches were and became especially eager to visit the one called Limnioniza which was said to be the most beautiful. It would require a ride by donkey, the island’s main mode of transportation since there were no horses, cabs, or carriages.
The beach, they found when they got there, was not sandy but of pebbles. Elizabeth had envisioned lying with Mr. Darcy on sand, so she was disappointed, until they spread a blanket.
My honeymoon is not to be perfect because Limnioniza’s beach is not sandy?, Elizabeth wondered.
Nonsense, nonsense! she said to herself, echoing a favorite word of Mrs. Bennet’s. They watched as young lovers standing nearby kissed while engaged in an embrace, and the man lit two cigarettes, taking one for himself and giving the woman the other. It delighted Elizabeth. How romantic.
Said Mr. Darcy, noticing her response to the cigarette lightings, “I should make the beach sandy, if I could.”
She squeezed his hand while looking into his loving eyes with the same feeling.
Soon they were wading, then swimming in the beach’s warm azure water.
Mr. Darcy tried to teach Elizabeth how to swim better as she flailed her arms and sank in the sea, but after a short while, gave up. “Forgive me,” he told her as kindly he could, “but you are just uncoordinated regarding moving your arms and legs and breathing at the same time. I would far rather have a live wife than a dead dolphin.”
Elizabeth did not mind his criticism. It was enough to have his hands on her and arms around her waist as he tried to show her the various swimming strokes.
They visited other beaches on Hydra that were sandy such as the Palamidas, but Limnioniza became their home away from home in the days and weeks that followed. There they made love, openly, as others did, both natives and tourists.
They spent most of their time at Limnioniza, from morning even into the dark of night. The beach became Elizabeth’s paradise, her Eden, and she imagined herself to be Eve with her Adam.
With what could she tempt him?, she wondered. They had seen far more beautiful women on the beaches than she, but Mr. Darcy did not seem to notice them. Or, perhaps, his eyes might have strayed to one or two of the young Greek girls, as hers had to the young men, shirtless and wearing white trousers cut off above the knees. God, but Greek men were beautiful animals. And Mr. Darcy, though not Greek, was the most beautiful.
She was certain some of the young people were lovers and some were in the sea swimming, perhaps au natural. She wondered if she could be so bold with her husband, or he with her.
Elizabeth found the days at Limnioniza to be blissfully wonderful, but the nights even more romantic since most evenings, she shared it with no one but Mr. Darcy. Each evening from the beach they heard the sounds above at a café of guitars and mandolins, and men and women taking turns singing love songs, then to each other.
At times she then imagined herself to be Helen of Troy and Mr. Darcy was her handsome lover, Paris, only they would never part, as the legendary lovers had been forced to.
On another afternoon on the island, the Darcy’s visited the fort overlooking the bay, its cannons projecting out to sea in case Napoleon or pirates would attempt to invade by water. There was no beach below, but couples sunbathed on a deck.
In cafes and on the beach they often saw men dancing, sometimes by themselves, other times with other men. Never with a woman. The men danced joyfully with arms outstretched, at times snapping their fingers or clapping their hands together, moving sideways or high-stepping up and down, even at times doing a low Russian squat. It made the Darcy’s feel joyful to watch. Late in their second week on Hydra the Darcy’s went to a café and were surprised to see two familiar faces at a secluded corner table.
“The handsome prince from the play,” Elizabeth said to Mr. Darcy.
“The one who unnaturally loved his mother.”
“They are holding hands and drinking together intimately.”
“The prince is with his father, the king.”
“An odd couple. Could they be…?” Darcy said, “Historically, older Greek men have been patrons, or mentors, or more, to handsome young students o
r servants. Alexander the Great had his Persian boy servant, Bagoas, besides his lifelong best friend Hephastian.”
Elizabeth wondered about his knowledge of such subjects. “I did some research on Greece before we left Pemberley. Not all of it archaeological. You may have wondered what kept me in the library at Meryton so often.”
She had wondered, when he had so big a library at home. “The custom of mentor or patron I am sure continues into the Nineteenth century, and not only in Greece.” Mr. Darcy could tell her of examples in London, but decided against it.
Then, standing some distance from the actors’ table, they saw another familiar face.
“The prince’s brother,” said Elizabeth. “He looks jealous.” “As if he has murder in his eyes, and isn’t acting. Let us hope we will not witness a real Greek tragedy,” said Mr. Darcy getting up from their table. He then assisted Elizabeth out of the café and safely into the street, then held her in his arms. She welcomed them, but also looked back over her shoulder at the café and wondered what real-life scene they had left behind.
While they strolled back to their lodgings and Elizabeth wondered about the three-way relationship of the actors, such attachments being totally foreign to her, Darcy reflected on them and to his own father. Some young men, he knew, are drawn to older men. They may see them as their father, especially if they did not receive much affection or any from their birth father.
Darcy had admired his father, who had passed on five years previous, but was never quite sure if his father loved him. He thought his father might have been more fond of his younger cousin, also named Fitzwilliam and now a colonel in the British Army. Darcy had grown up with a cavernous emptiness in himself, believing he really only had received approval from his father, but not his love.
He had read that a man does not fully become a man until he forgives his father, for either real or imaged grievances. He was not yet sure he forgave his father for not showing the love to him that his cousin so openly received.
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