“I do treasure her, very much. I want you to know as well that I have planned our immediate future most carefully. Lady Warrow owns a maison de ville in Paris where we will reside with every comfort Miss Darcy deserves and is accustomed to. Money is plentiful so she will want for nothing. We both have friends there, so she will not be without society and companionship. My mother is already renovating a suite at Whistlenell Hall and organizing a grand reception before we leave to Europe, though I warned both actions were precipitous, and my father is gradually adjusting to the idea of Miss Darcy as my chosen bride…”
“I beg your pardon?” Darcy interrupted roughly. “Why would he need to adjust to the idea? Does Lord Essenton have an issue with Miss Darcy?”
Sebastian sucked in his breath. “Forgive me, Mr. Darcy. I should have explained the difficulties with my father more thoroughly. Be assured that Lord Essenton has never, not once, spoken against Miss Darcy in any way. How could he? She has impeccable manners, a lovely personality, culture and beauty, excellent credentials…”
“I know all this. No need to state the obvious. Yet he does not approve?”
“His… reluctance is not based on Miss Darcy in particular. Rather it is his displeasure with the path I have chosen in life. Or, to be blunt, his displeasure with me not walking the path he prefers I do. I respect my father greatly, sir, but he and I have not always seen eye to eye.”
Sebastian straightened, jutting his chin and suddenly looking years older than twenty-three. Darcy’s brow lifted at the abrupt maturity; Sebastian continuing in a firm timbre, “I alluded to some of this in regards to my musical pursuits. Lord Essenton has never comprehended my desires and I regret to confess the battles have been bitter at times. His displeasure pains me, but I am not a man to be bullied and have pursued my studies regardless.”
“I see. Has he learned to accept your choice?”
“He tolerates it, primarily due to my grandmother’s influence and support. Yet also because I have promised him innumerable times that music and my dreams of study and composing do not supplant my love for our estate. He does not concur, but I see no reason both cannot be a part of my life. I think that despite my verbalized conviction he persists in considering it a phase I will grow out of.”
Darcy was nodding and rubbing his chin. “I know Lord Essenton more by reputation than personal familiarity, but do believe I can guess that he now sees marriage as a distraction and further upset—especially to a lady as passionate about music as you. Correct?”
“Partially this is the case. Mainly I think he is simply so accustomed to disagreeing with all I do that the argument comes naturally and without forethought.” Sebastian shrugged, but his expression revealed his sorrow while remaining resolute. “However, the other area we have long disagreed upon is his insistence that I marry a cousin on my mother’s side. To be frank, the lady in question disgusts me for numerous reasons, but even if that were not the case, I have steadfastly refused to marry anyone other than whom I chose: a woman I love and who meets the standards I require, not my father. I trust you can understand and not think less of me for being a disobedient son?”
“Oh indeed,” Darcy said with a laugh, clapping the younger man on the shoulder and steering toward the door. “I can completely understand and now my opinion of you has risen dramatically! What is it about marrying cousins that so appeals to older relatives?”
Sebastian frowned at the question, but Darcy was not expecting an answer. “Now, we better end this conversation since I am sure Georgiana and my wife are at the extreme ends of their patience. Actually, I am surprised Mrs. Darcy has not stormed into the library demanding we speed matters along!”
Instantly upon exiting the library the sound of piano music was heard escaping from the nearby parlor. Sebastian’s puzzled frown turned to a smile and he began to chuckle even before Darcy spoke. “At least my sister is managing to remain calm. But then music always soothes her.”
“I do not think it is working very well,” Sebastian countered, stopping in the hallway and waving a hand toward the distant doorway and the invisible notes floating on the air. “The cadence is too harsh through here, the notes are rushed, and I can hear her nails striking the keys.” He paused to listen. “And… There, yes, I knew she would muddle that particular chord if she were vexed or agitated!”
“That is not a positive sign. If my sister is strained then Mrs. Darcy is probably bleeding from needle-pierced fingertips or pacing to resist throwing something. We best hurry…”
“What in blazes could be taking so long?” Lizzy’s strident declaration followed by the heavy thud of a book onto a tabletop interrupted his words. The music abruptly died with the end sound composed of random keys chiming discordantly when Georgiana’s hands slammed down.
“You do not think he could be saying no, do you?”
“Of course not! He has probably taken Mr. Butler off to the billiard room to celebrate with a game and brandy! I may have to strangle him!”
The men’s appearance on the threshold went momentarily unnoticed as Lizzy continued to rant of how she intended to punish her spouse, her tirade stopping when Darcy cleared his throat.
Georgiana gasped, frozen for a span of seconds with hand to her breast, but the stasis broke at the sheepish but dazzling smile Sebastian directed her way. She flew off the piano bench and was across the room before her fiancé took a breath, barreling into his body and embracing tightly.
Darcy was gazing with lifted brow at his irritated wife, Lizzy not appreciating his humor at the words she knew he must have heard. Yet they both melted at the sight of Georgiana’s effusive happiness. Then Darcy was taken aback when she left Mr. Butler’s arms after mere moments to launch into his.
“Thank you, Brother! Thank you! You have made me the happiest woman alive! But did you have to take so long?” And she actually punched him in the arm.
“Hey! We had numerous matters to discuss, such as your admission to the Conservatoire, Miss Darcy.”
“Are you pleased?” He nodded once, grinning. “So we can marry soon and be together in Paris studying?”
“Georgiana, I would never stand in the way of love being fulfilled, or your musical ambitions for that matter. I am incredibly proud.” This time he enfolded her within his embrace, not letting go for a long while.
Sebastian was unable to steal his beloved away for private kisses and conversation for hours, but the afternoon and evening brought immeasurable joy nevertheless, as he grew closer to the people dearest to his future wife. Preliminary plans were set in motion for a late spring wedding, the men frequently lost in the ensuing discussions, and not a single person thought of the recent traumas.
Love remained the greatest healing force, so it seems.
Chapter Twenty-One
On the Banks of the Serpentine
“You look absolutely beautiful, Mrs. Darcy.”
He crossed the room, fingers lifting to tie the bonnet strings under her chin.
“Thank you, dearest. I desperately need to stretch my legs, so I also thank you for allowing me to leave the house.”
“Since when have my allowing or not had any bearing on your actions, especially walking?” He shook his head while laughing. “I can recall perhaps a handful of occasions when my dominating demands were harkened to when you disagreed with me. In this instance I surmised this venture wise for everyone involved, as it may improve your grouchiness.”
“It will improve my grouchiness, I can assure you. Being cooped up irritates me…”
“Yes, I know,” he agreed with a teasing lift to his left brow.
“I shall not deny it. And I will only partially blame you and the good doctor for keeping me chained to the house since I admit to not being hale enough to journey far. Of course, a large part of that is entirely your fault, Mr. Darcy.”
“Ah, I see we are going to start that standard accusation again, even before we are certain.” He grinned, extending his arm, which she readily too
k.
“Indeed we are. I am preparing you for the eventuality, whether I am with child now or at a later date.” She tiptoed and planted a firm kiss to his dimpled chin. “How do I look? Well enough?”
He grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning her uplifted, smiling face side-to-side. “Hmmm… Rosy, if a bit pale from want of sunlight. Eyes clear, lively, and sparkling. Cheeks full and nose pert. Adorable in every way and full of youthful vigor. Quite perfect, my dearest wife. Perfect.”
“Thank you.”
“As stunning and hearty as you appear, are you sure you shall not be overcome with nausea midway along the promenade?”
“I make no promises. But my stomach is currently stable and I do not plan to embarrass you in front of all London society.”
“I was only thinking of you possibly messing this gorgeous gown. I would be standing there foolishly grinning and declaring to any onlookers that my divine wife may soon be presenting me with a daughter.”
“Ridiculous man. Now who is leaping ahead before we are certain? In all seriousness, thank you, William, for planning today and setting aside your business to be with us.”
“Nothing pleases me more than the thought of spending an entire day with my family and our friends. Besides, I need this outing and respite from the chaos as much as you.”
“Are you sure nothing will interfere? No pressing affairs that Mr. Daniels will insist must be attended to immediately or the fate of Pemberley will teeter on the edge of destruction?”
He winked, lowering his voice in mock secrecy, “I told him I was leaving the country for a while so he would not pester me.” She laughed and shook her head, Darcy continuing in a normal tone, “I am all yours today. Did you doubt my assertion?”
She shook her head, eyes flaring with sudden mischief and promise. “No. Merely wanting to reaffirm. I intend to prove my healthiness to you, my husband, so you will no longer worry and annoy me with your overbearing attentiveness. I want to walk the garden paths, frolic with the children, laugh with our friends, and eat until bursting. Then”—she leaned into his body, mouth brushing against his ear—“later while the children are napping I will further prove my robustness by removing all your clothing and ravishing you all afternoon until you are begging for mercy.” She seized the lobe between her lips, tugging decisively before running the tip of her tongue over the sensitized skin.
Darcy growled deep in his chest, pulling her body hard against his torso. Huskily, he responded, “Do not tease me if you are unsure of the outcome.”
She placed her smiling lips lightly over his. “I am acutely aware of the outcome and prepared to ensure you are not disappointed.”
“I am never disappointed with you, Elizabeth. However, I will admit the prospect as you outline it is abundantly appealing.”
He brushed his lips over her collarbone, Lizzy squeezing tightly. “You have been so patient and devoted, Fitzwilliam. My love for you has grown to another level through this trauma. I cannot explain it, but I know it to be true. Your care for our sons and me has been remarkable. My gratefulness is not the root cause of my yearning to love you, but I will say that the emotion augments my desire. Truthfully, as much as my pride hates to admit it, I do feel vulnerable these days. It may be pathetic, but activity clears my mind and erases the residual fear. Vigorous loving declares my vitality in a special way that heals me, not to mention how enjoyable it is to love you.”
She ended her statement with a teasing smile, but Darcy sensed the unease underneath. His embrace was tender but stalwart, gazing into her eyes for several heartbeats before whispering, “Elizabeth, I love you.”
The consuming kiss that followed conveyed his boundless love and happiness, Lizzy returning the searing exchange wholeheartedly. Instinctively their hands kneaded and stroked as mouths battled gloriously. Lizzy’s escalating ardor was felt deep in her belly, in those hidden places that only his touch could reach. Darcy’s heightening passion was felt pressing hard into his wife’s lower abdomen.
Both of their hearts were pounding, the mutual rush of blood and heavy breathing drowning out all extrinsic sounds and Darcy had taken a sideways step toward the bed when they were interrupted.
“Mama! Papa! I got bread cumbs for the duckies! Nanny has Michael dressed and sent me to get you. Hurry! Carriage outside!” Alexander had barreled into their legs, grabbing on to skirt and breeches, and was tugging insistently. Darcy and Lizzy staggered at the forceful impact, clutches steadying the other as they separated a pace. Lizzy burst into laughter, Darcy turning his red face and aroused body away from his son. Fortunately Alexander was innocently impervious, although as he grew, his awareness would follow a similar path as Darcy’s with regards to his parents. Frequent embraces of an intimate nature would be a matter of course for the numerous Darcy offspring to witness, their parents’ love and passion multiplying as the years progressed.
But for now the toddler was only interested in picnics and play at the park. His parents followed him to the foyer, his piping voice nonstop in expressing his enthusiasm. George scooped him up, playfully planting his large hand over the child’s mouth.
“Uncle Goj!” He exclaimed as soon as his mouth was freed. “You smashing my bread! How duckies eat them now?”
George rolled his eyes and then winked at Lizzy and Darcy, the group chatty as they filed onto the street and into the parked carriage.
The short drive south on Park Lane to the Hyde Park Corner entrance on Knightsbridge took longer than typical due to heavy traffic. It was a gorgeous day in April with crowds of merrymakers taking advantage of the placid temperatures in dozens of outdoor pursuits, carriages and horses and pedestrians vying for space on the walkways and avenues. The sun shone brightly, but a steady breeze off the Thames cooled the air. Scattered white puffy clouds offered breaks in the sun’s direct intensity and created interesting shadows along the ground.
The intriguing combination of shadow and clouds fascinated Alexander and finally halted his tongue. From his perch on Uncle Goj’s lap, he could study the patterns formed by the cottony clouds high in the azure sky and the silhouettes moving over the land. Darcy kept a close eye on Lizzy, but she appeared perfectly fine as she sat beside him chatting with Georgiana, who sat across holding a wiggling Michael and next to George with his sedate burden.
The ladies fluttered fans, but more out of habit and to keep the dust away from faces sheltered by wide bonnet brims. It was tolerably warm and the open calash permitted the gentle wind to waft over their bodies. George, of course, was attired in a flowing Indian garment of lightest silk, pale blue with edgings in navy that accented his sapphire eyes. His head was hatless in defiance of proper fashion, and a flashily embroidered and beaded pair of new juttis adorned his long feet. The cut left most of his upper feet bare, Darcy frowning upon seeing the scandalous footwear, but George just grinned and wore them anyway.
Lizzy and Georgiana were gowned in dresses of finely woven muslin as thin and loose as modesty would allow. Georgiana’s was dandelion yellow with lacy sleeves capped upon her shoulders. Lizzy was similarly clothed, her gown a fallow-brown trimmed in copper with layered half-sleeves. Their wrist-height gloves were netted for ventilation, leaving the greater part of their arms bare and unprotected except for the matching shawls currently bunched at their elbows. Fashionably protecting their fair faces from the harshest rays of the sun were brimmed hats strategically placed to shield while also accenting elaborate coiffures and jewels.
Darcy, naturally, was resplendent and every inch the dashing English gentleman. From his tall, felted beaver hat to the tips of his polished, mid-calf Wellington boots, he oozed 1820 style. Although he did own a large collection of longer trousers and pantaloons, Darcy still preferred breeches, today wearing a calf-length pair of beige nankeen precisely tailored for his muscular lower body and tucked with barely a wrinkle into the tops of his black boots. His brown-and-gray-striped waistcoat and jacket of Prussian blue were sewn from light
weight kerseymere, the lacy white cravat tied elaborately but loose, all designed to withstand the soaring heat and humidity of a London summer.
As usual, it was his professional valet who selected the day’s attire, Darcy rarely having an opinion on the subject. Samuel was well aware of the societal nuances in dress and accoutrements that were essential for the various meetings, activities, and places that filled Mr. Darcy’s schedule, knowing it better than Darcy did. Today he had decided that, although still April and the average temperatures not rising to drastic levels, his Master would be worried over his family and thus would need to be comfortable. Of course, Darcy did not know this was Samuel’s reasoning, simply donning the individual garments with barely a glance. His only disagreement was on wearing gloves or taking a walking stick. He did not care for the ridiculous affectation of a dandified cane when he was perfectly capable of walking unassisted and he also wished to keep his hands bare and unencumbered so he could delight in the touch of his wife and sons.
He reached across to rescue the increasingly rambunctious Michael from Georgiana’s questionable grasp. She smiled her thanks, but otherwise maintained the steady prattling conversation with Elizabeth. Lizzy’s cheeks were rosy and eyes alit with delight as they turned onto the spacious access through the massive gates at the corner entrance to Hyde Park.
The King’s Road, built by William III in 1690 as a direct route between Kensington Palace and St. James’s Palace, was one of several carriageways cutting through the enormous royal park, but it was by far the largest and most popular. It was broad enough to easily accommodate three carriages abreast, thickly paved with a sea of coarse gravel from the Thames, and lined with manicured lawns, hedges, and footpaths. With over three hundred lamps positioned to illuminate the thoroughfare at night, this avenue held the distinction of being the first in the country to be artificially lit, a fact Londoners were proud of. Officially named The King’s Road, the corruption of the French “Route de Roi” led to the more common, humorous name of Rotten Row. Of course, there was nothing “rotten” about it, the avenue pristinely maintained and scenic with a stunning view of the Serpentine’s glittering blue waters through the trees and bushes to the north.
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