Loving Mr. Darcy: Journeys Beyond Pemberley tds-2

by Sharon Lathan

  Lizzy was flabbergasted, and Darcy gazed at her with undisguised joy while one of the men launched into a detailed inventory of all the intricate parts and mechanisms. Darcy leaned to her ear, whispering, “Happy anniversary, my love. Do you like it?”

  Lizzy was truly overcome. Tears filled her eyes and she buried her face into his arm, biting her lip to avoid bursting into sobs. Sudden powerful emotions rushed through her, not unlike the uncontrollable sentiments which had consumed her early in her pregnancy. That he would have her own curricle manufactured when he remained so anxious about her driving one was more than she could bear. She began to tremble, frantically looking around for a place to escape the prying eyes so she could privately fall apart. Spying an open door at the back of the warehouse, the glint of sunlight on water visible, she mumbled something about needing air and bolted.

  Darcy stood rooted to the spot in shock for several heartbeats, mumbled his own vague excuse to the coachman, who continued to rattle on about springs and buckboards, and dashed after his wife. She stood by the river, hunched with hands on her knees, gulping air between sobs.

  “Elizabeth, my God, what is wrong? Are you ill? What…”

  Hands about her face as he peered intently, she interrupted incoherently, “William, I cannot believe… it is too much… I do not deserve… all this… the curricle… gifts and… you are too good… and I… am unworthy… the money spent… and…”

  “Shhhh… Hush now, Elizabeth,” he cooed as he enfolded her into his arms, pressing her tight to his chest, “cease or you will make yourself ill. You must remember our baby.” He rubbed her back gently, swaying slightly as her tears slowly ebbed and shudders lessened. Pulling away finally, he again cupped her face, looking at her sternly but speaking softly, he said, “Listen to me, Elizabeth Darcy. I do not ever want to hear you utter the belief that you do not deserve anything I chose to give you or that it is my ‘goodness’ which compels me. First of all, you are worthy of all this and far more for reasons which would take me hours to numerate, yet that is merely one point. I am your husband. I am responsible for your happiness, security, health, wants and needs, pleasures, future, and all else. I take my job very seriously and will exhaust myself physically and financially if need be to ensure this. Do you understand?”

  She nodded her head, staring raptly into his darkened, intently somber eyes. He continued, “I love you, Elizabeth, more than I have the words to convey. As a result of the depth of my love for you, I delight in surprising you, giving to you, pleasuring you, and all the rest. Yet, the honest truth is that my honor and duty would obligate me to do much the same no matter whom I married. If I had been so unfortunate as to marry Anne or, heaven forbid, Caroline, I would be purchasing gifts, caring for them, providing for them, and,” he shuddered involuntarily, “even… being intimate with them.” He closed his eyes as if to block the horrid vision and then sighed heavily before again meeting her gaze. “It would be so hollow and empty and emotionless. Can you now comprehend what an uncountable joy it is to me that it is you, precious Elizabeth, to whom I can fulfill my duties as husband? The alternatives are unspeakable. I have not divulged this, but there are times, less now but frequently during our engagement and early weeks of marriage, when I would wake in a sweat, having dreamt a nightmare of Caroline or some other creature in my bed.” He shook his head, again embracing her tightly. “Beloved, I can never shower you with jewels or gowns or trinkets or even curricles enough to thank you for sparing me that fate!”

  He kissed her tenderly and thoroughly, aware of eyes peering through the windows of the warehouse, but he was indifferent. “Are you better now?” She nodded. “Good, because you are required to select the fabric you wish for the cushions; we still have several events planned, and I am hungry. Shall we, Mrs. Darcy?”

  The two gifts patiently waiting in the landau yielded a Kashmir shawl large enough to completely cover her body down to her toes in a typical paisley pattern of yellow, blue, and mauve, and a ladies pocket watch. The watch was gold with an intricate scrollwork design on the case and a blue sapphire embedded in the center of the cover. The landau tops had been folded down per Lizzy's request, so Darcy's kisses of thanks were postponed, settling instead for a firm squeeze to his knee and her hands warmly linked in his.

  They drove along the Thames, Darcy pointing to interesting landmarks as they appeared. Slowly they ambled along, the frequently dirty docks and warehouses along the river replaced with fine business establishments and humble residences as the Thames veered to the south, finally disappearing from view. Traffic thickened as they entered an obviously upscale district.

  “This is Pall Mall Street,” Darcy explained, “and this area is St. James's Place. There is the Royal Academy of Arts, and there is Christie's Auction House. Mr. Anders, take us around the Square, please.” He pointed out several of the residences lining the massive and impressive square. “Only titled gentry live here, dearest. Continue, Mr. Anders, to the Palace, please, and then halt.” It was only a block or so down Pall Mall to a beautiful building with a well guarded, arched, and iron gated portico. “That is St. James's Palace, Elizabeth, home of the Prince Regent, as you know.”

  “Have you ever been inside, William?”

  He smiled. “Divers times for various fêtes. The first was with my father and Lord and Lady Matlock. I was twenty and had the great fortune to be presented to King George III. It was a highly formal affair, as they all are, and I was nearly petrified with anxiety. Imagine me at Meryton multiplied tenfold, and you may vaguely visualize my unease!” He laughed at the memory.

  Lizzy was staring at her husband with fresh awe. Despite his wealth, which she was slowly learning to be comfortable with, and the incredible power he wielded at Pemberley, within society, and at his numerous business enterprises, she had never actually thought of him hobnobbing with royalty. Even the Earl of Matlock, so intimidating to her originally, was now simply his uncle. It was more than she could digest at the moment.

  “How was he? The King, I mean,” she stammered.

  “Gracious and formal. He was an impressive man in appearance, quite tall and broad. His illness was not as apparent then. Most in society were aware of its existence, but certainly not the general public. Of course, I spoke not at all other than the designated greeting then was ushered on. If I had a preference, I would gladly never step foot through those gates or any of the other Royal enclaves. Of course, when one receives an invitation to the palace, one accepts it.” He chuckled.

  They drove on then, meandering leisurely through the promenade between St. James's Park and Green Park, Darcy again playing tour guide. His knowledge of the area astounded her. They passed through Hyde Park Corner and continued to the west, skirting the edge of Hyde Park itself.

  “I planned for us to finish our day relaxing at the Park. We will have lunch by the lake, walk a bit if you feel able, open more gifts, whatever you wish, beloved.” He lightly kissed her temple.

  The park was immense. Carriages were in abundance along the wide avenue, pedestrians and equestrians wandered over the paths and endless lawn, numerous picnic blankets and the occasional pavilion dotted the landscape. Every imaginable species of tree and bush and flower grew in profusion. Lizzy had heard of the wonders at Hyde and Kensington Parks, and the grandeur of Serpentine Lake, but the reality was stunning. After nearly forty minutes of winding through sights of breathtaking beauty, Mr. Anders finally halted.

  They had crossed over the bridge to the north of the Lake, ambled along the edge, and alighted before a generous pavilion erected approximately twenty feet from the water's shore. The white tent was facing the lake, the front flaps tied back to form a sort of doorway and the other three sides of a netted material to allow breezes in. Solid canvas sheets on the netted sides were rolled up, but could be released for added privacy. Two footmen from Darcy House stood at the entrance, apparently having been in charge of guarding and likely arranging the structure. Darcy ordered them to return to t
he townhouse until evening.

  Lizzy entered the pavilion, pausing in amazement. It was as if she had been instantly transported to an Arabian tent in the desert. A thick Persian style carpet covered the ground, a long divan stretched across the back, pillows of all sizes and bright shades and gaudy patterns with tassels dangling were scattered about, and a low table sat in the middle literally digging into the earth it was so encumbered with food. The only incongruous additions to the motif were the stack of traditionally wrapped gifts in the right front corner.

  Darcy slipped his arms about her waist, pulling her close as he whispered, “For the remainder of the afternoon, you shall be a Princess lying imperiously on your divan, ordering your slave—a fortunate me—to fulfill your merest whim. I shall fan your beautiful face, rub your delicate feet, kiss your ruby lips, feed you from my hand, anything you desire. Except for singing. I will not sing. Even a slave must draw the line at utter humiliation.” They laughed.

  “Do not worry yourself, dearest. This day has been thus far too wonderful to ruin by hearing you sing!”

  “I cannot be offended at the truth. Relax, my dear, so we can eat. Speaking only for myself, I am ravenous. While I prepare a plate for you, open these. They are part of a set, so to speak.” He handed her four gifts individually wrapped but tied together. The set included five handheld tambour embroidery rings, a sewing box filled with an abundant supply of thread and needles and more, several patterns, and an exemplary pair of embroidery shears.

  Lunch was delicious, the area where they picnicked secluded with a cooling breeze wafting continuously, and they were together. Lizzy reclined on the divan with Darcy sitting on the ground leaning by her side. They talked and touched, ate until they could barely move, and opened more presents.

  As the hours listlessly ticked by, Lizzy unwrapped an array of wonderful surprises. One was an enormous basket of imported rare fruits consisting of peaches, pineapples, Seville oranges, bananas, avocados, and dried currants. Lizzy had never tasted a banana or an avocado, finding both strange but delicious.

  “How did you find such curiosities, William?”

  “I am a partner in a triune ownership of a shipping company. Have I not informed you of this?”

  She shook her head. “Not that I recollect, but there is still much of your interests I am yet learning to comprehend. Frankly, I cannot fathom how you keep it all ordered.”

  He laughed. “At times I do wonder the same myself. I have been blessed— or cursed, depending on the perspective—with insatiable curiosity, so I am forever enmeshing myself in new ventures. In this case, it is actually my father's fault. Anyway, we own four ships and import mostly wines and liquors and edibles, but will ship whatever pays a profit. An additional advantage is being able to acquire diverse paraphernalia from exotic locales or civilized countries at a substantially lowered cost. Therefore, if you develop a craving for bananas, dearest, I can steadily supply them.”

  She smiled, leaning to kiss him. “You are a beneficial fellow to have around, Mr. Darcy.”

  He shrugged. “I am a financial backer primarily. I leave the major decisions to my partners, as I am ignorant of many aspects of the enterprise. My father began the company and he did know a great deal about ships and trade. I inherited the partnership along with everything else. The profits are substantial, and as I devote little effort to it, I cannot complain.”

  Her next gift consisted of two parts and thrilled Lizzy speechless, again. Nestling on a cushion of green velvet in a polished box of cherry wood sat an exquisite pair of petite opera glasses. The telescopes and handle were of silver, inlaid with mother-of-pearl with Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy etched onto the crosspiece. While Lizzy attempted to find her voice to stammer her appreciation, Darcy reached into his coat pocket and with a dramatic flourish presented two tickets to the opera, Mozart's Don Giovanni to be precise, for the following week at the Royal Theatre in Covent Gardens.

  “Oh, William! How wonderful! I love the opera, and to attend with you, well, I can hardly believe my good fortune. Are they good seats?”

  Darcy laughed at her delightful innocence. “Dearest, we have our own box lease. It is on the second level, midway to the right of the stage: an excellent position for both visuals and acoustics. Lord and Lady Matlock will be joining us, as will Richard, and I was also hoping the Lathrops and the Gardiners. The Vernors have their own box, three removed from ours, so perhaps they can attend that night as well. I also compiled a list of the various performances scheduled for these next weeks at the theatres in Town. Later we can peruse the list and decide which events pique your interest. You shall have numerous opportunities to employ those new glasses.”

  He smiled and kissed her. “I know how greatly you enjoy the theatre.”

  Lizzy said, running fingers through his hair as she spoke, “It will be a tremendous joy to share the experience with you. Also, as I do not speak Italian, you can translate.”

  “I am afraid my knowledge of Italian is nearly nonexistent, love, but if we attend anything in French or German I will happily translate.” He chuckled. “Of course, I do not think it will be necessary. The story is felt in the soul through the music and emotion projected by the actors, as you know. I have watched your eyes when you have related your previous theatre attendances or discussed literature and can readily ascertain how it stirs your spirit.” He drew even closer to her face. “It is another of the myriad traits we have in common, my Lizzy, and thus why you are so utterly perfect for me.” Thereafter followed a delightful interval of tender kisses and caresses, interrupted by an unstoppable jaw-cracking yawn from Lizzy.

  “Oh, darling! Forgive me!”

  Darcy chuckled, stroking her lips. “No apology is necessary, my love. Our child is demanding his mother rest and regains strength. I concur. Do you think you can tolerate opening one more?”

  Lizzy nodded and gave him an indulgent smile and a loving caress. The next gift was an exquisitely rendered reproduction of Pompeo Batoni's Madonna and Child in an oval frame of ethereal and ornate Rococo design with copper gilding and inlays of marbleized enamel.

  Lizzy was shocked, sitting up in her surprise. “William! It is… stunning! You incredible, amazing, dear, dear man! Remember my telling you how much I adore Batoni?!”

  “You saw an exhibition of his works when you visited your aunt and uncle three years ago. Yes, I remember. Did you view this painting?”

  “Yes, it was there. So beautiful. The Madonna's countenance inundated with peace and the babe gently touching his mother's chin as he gazes with love. I adore the colors he uses, the softness to his artistry, and the serene joy of this moment as he captured it. It moved me at eighteen but far more so now, with our baby growing inside.” She looked into his shining eyes, hers misty.

  “I thought it would adorn the nursery becomingly.”

  “William, I honestly am devoid of appropriate words to thank you. I love you so very much!”

  He kissed her softly, pushing her gently until she was reclining against the plump pillows. “Save the words, my lover. Rather, free your mind and devise stimulating bedroom actions that will convey the depth of your gratitude.” He grinned lasciviously, Lizzy playfully slapping his arm.

  Darcy read aloud for a spell until Lizzy fell asleep. He continued to read silently for a while, then took a short walk along the lake's edge to stretch his legs. The day was growing warmer, as the afternoon progressed, his pocket watch revealing it to be after three. He stood on the shore, skipping rocks across the surface like a child, smiling with peaceful satisfaction. Aside from Lizzy's emotional upheaval, which he fully attributed to her pregnant state, coupled with a lingering reservation regarding her new station in life, it had thus far been the perfect day. Exactly as he had so carefully planned. Hopefully, the remainder of her day's activities would proceed as flawlessly.

  Lizzy woke after a refreshing nap to an empty pavilion. Another two gifts sat beside her divan, but she ignored them for the present, preferrin
g to locate her wayward spouse. She grabbed two bananas, peeling one as she ducked under the tent flap. A quick glance about divulged him to be some fifty feet away, cutting bulrushes. She smiled, chewing as she approached.

  “That looks to be strenuous work. I come bearing sustenance.”

  “Why thank you, kind lady.” He took the offered treat, tossing the peel into the lake. “Do you figure ducks or fish eat banana peels?”

  Lizzy shrugged, tossing her peel as well. “No idea. At least it is organic. What is the purpose for the bulrushes?”

  “I like them is all. They are pretty in vases and last nearly forever; however, the best part is shredding the flower into fluffy bits and watching them float on air.” He demonstrated and Lizzy laughed.

  “William, you are such a child! Here, give me one.” Soon the air was inundated with swirling cottony fragments, many of them lodging in their hair to be plucked later.

  Lizzy's seventeenth birthday gift was a finely woven garden basket for gathering flowers, pruning shears with cushioned handles, two pairs of leather gloves, and two protective frocks. It was a gift Lizzy truly needed, as she had nothing like it at Pemberley and had borrowed from the groundsmen when working in the gardens. The other package contained two exquisite perfume bottles. One was of Murano glass in a rainbow of swirling colors and filled with pure lavender perfume. The other was divinely enameled in a night sky with crescent moon and bright stars so finely painted they actually appeared to twinkle. The perfume within was jasmine extract.

  They sat on the divan and Darcy nestled his face into her hair and breathed deeply. “I will always associate lavender with you, Elizabeth, as it is your favorite scent. However, I also love jasmine so thought perhaps you would wear it for me on occasion.”

  “Darling, you could ask anything of me and I would grant it. This is a simple request to fulfill.” She stroked his cheeks, gazing intently into his sparkling blue eyes. “I love you passionately, Fitzwilliam,” she whispered. “I know you believe it inconsequential, but I am deeply moved by all you have done for me today. Each gift has been selected with incredible forethought and insight, presented in dazzling fashion, and surrounded with exciting events and places. I do hope you realize how grateful I am.” She kissed him slowly, teasing his lips in the special way she knew thrilled him.