by Ola Wegner
Peters exhaled a long dramatic breath. “We shall see what you will say when these two have children. They will tear the house apart, mind my words.”
“Oh, be gone!” Mrs. Reynolds huffed, “They will be good, sweet, if a bit lively, children, I am sure of that. You always see everything in dark colours. This house needs some life and laughter after so many years of sorrow.”
***
“How far is Mr. Cowlishaw’s estate?” Elizabeth asked.
They were on their way to Darcy’s neighbour, where Elizabeth was to choose a horse for herself. Georgiana sat next to her, and Darcy on the opposite seat in the open carriage. The Gardiners had declined the trip because they wanted to visit friends in Lambton.
“It is not so much of an estate, but rather a large farm about ten miles from Pemberley,” Darcy explained. “Cowlishaws were once our tenants, but then they enriched themselves on horse breeding and bought some land, joining together several small farms.”
“Mr. Cowlishaw has three daughters.” Georgian added. “I have small presents for them.”
“Do they have a son as well?” Elizabeth wanted to know.
Darcy shook his head, “Mrs. Cowlishaw died in childbirth a few years ago.”
Elizabeth gasped. “What a tragedy. What ages are the girls?”
“The youngest is three, I believe.” Darcy looked at Georgiana who nodded.
“Yes, three, while the older ones are five and seven.”
Elizabeth heart tugged at the image of three small girls being brought up without a mother. “Poor little ones. Does Mr. Cowlishaw have any help?”
“There is a housekeeper, I believe,” Darcy answered, “For a while an aunt lived with them, but she died too.”
“The farm is quite secluded, away from the nearest village, so the girls do not even have friends to play with,” Georgiana mentioned. “They are very sweet and unspoiled and love their father very much.”
“No wonder,” Darcy mused. “They have only him.”
The ten mile drive passed quickly for Elizabeth as she was admiring the passing countryside, still new to her. Soon a large farm house could be seen at the bend of the road. The house was newly built, and very solid, designed more for comfort than for fashion, with small windows and brightly painted red doors.
The carriage came to a halt and three little girls ran out of the house. As Darcy helped them out of the carriage, Elizabeth looked carefully at the children. They had fiery red hair, heavily freckled round faces, and wide green eyes. All three, including the youngest one, were dressed in identical, utilitarian brown dresses, solid, heavy leather boots, and even their thick red braids were tied with dark, plain ribbons. Elizabeth’s first thought was that who would have dressed a child in such dour, sad colours, but then she remembered that they had no mother. Probably whoever had bought those clothes had not given much consideration to what is suitable and pretty for little girls.
Georgiana took a basket from a driver and stepped to the girls with a wide smile. “Hello.” She greeted them.
Two elder smiled back, while the youngest one hid behind them, peeking with one green eye at the guests. “Do you remember me?” Georgiana asked.
The eldest nodded. “Yes, Miss Darcy. Papa asked me to say that he would come in a moment and to invite you into the house.”
“Then let us go,” Georgiana kept smiling.
The girls showed the guests to what seemed to be a sizeable family room. Georgiana and Elizabeth sat down on the sofa, while Darcy walked to the window. Elizabeth was surprised that no servant came to greet them. The room looked as if it had not been cleaned properly for a considerable time.
“Will you not come closer?” Georgiana asked, and the girls stepped to the sofa. “This is Miss Bennet. She will marry my brother, Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth put the warmest of smiles on her face. “It is very nice to meet you. Will you tell me your names?”
“I am Abigail,” the eldest pointed to herself, “This is Becky and Mary.” She introduced her sisters.
Elizabeth pulled the youngest girl closer, “I have a sister and her name is Mary too.”
“Do you have a brother, Miss Bennet?” the middle one asked.
Elizabeth shook her head, smiling. “No, but I have four sisters back at home in Hertfordshire where I come from.”
The girls gaped at her and then started to laugh, starting with Mary, who scooted close to Elizabeth.
“Hertfordshire is in the south of England,” Abigail announced.
“Very good, Abigail. I see that you know a lot about England for such a young lady,” Elizabeth praised.
Becky shook her head. “No, she doesn’t know. Papa told us yesterday that you would visit us, that you would marry Mr. Darcy and that you are from Her... Hert...” she tried to pronounce the word.
“Hertfordshire,” Abigail finished for her.
“I have something for you,” Georgiana reached for the basket she had brought with hers and uncovered it. The girls did not move from their places, but they did glance towards it.
She took out three small dolls, with identical porcelain faces, but dressed differently, and three colourful little bags with candies.
“Oh, thank you, Miss Darcy!” the girls exclaimed all at once as Georgiana distributed the gifts.
Georgiana and Elizabeth watched with wide smiles as girls sat together in one large chair, each of them clutching the doll to her chest, mouths full of sweets, chewing faithfully.
Soon Abigail stepped to them again.“Would you like some?” she offered the last of her candies to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, thank you, dear.”
Georgiana stood up and walked into the corner of the room, where a brand new pianoforte stood.
The elder girls ran to her. “Papa bought it so we could learn to play.” Becky explained.
“We do not have a teacher,” Abigail added. “Papa says there is a teacher in Lambton, but he does not have time to take us there.”
“We do not even have a cook,” Becky mentioned. “Papa made today’s breakfast all by himself. It was not good.”
“Papa sent the cook away because she stole from us; he said so,” Abigail announced in grave voice.
Georgiana and Elizabeth looked at each other. The family had problems with the servants it seemed. It explained why no tea had been offered and why the girls had devoured the sweets so quickly; they were hungry.
Darcy walked closer, and the girls stepped away from him, gaping at his imposing figure. “I will go look for Cowlishaw,” he said.
“Will you play for us, Miss Darcy?” Becky pleaded, as Darcy left.
“Perhaps Miss Bennet will play for you?” Georgiana proposed, “She knows more merry songs than I.”
Half an hour later, when Darcy and Mr. Cowlishaw walked into the room, Georgiana and Elizabeth were playing a duet, with Mary sitting between them and the elder girls gathered closely.
“Ladies, I am so sorry not to greet you as you came.” Mr. Cowlishaw bowed deeply with visible respect. “We had a difficult birth, and I could not leave the stable for a while.”
Elizabeth and Georgiana stood up from behind the instrument and walked closer.
“That is quite all right, sir. The girls have entertained us.” Elizabeth glanced at the tall man. He was huge and bulky in build, heavy, and she felt like a dwarf next to him. He was even taller than Fitzwilliam, and his hair was the same fiery red as his daughters’.
Darcy introduced Elizabeth formally, and it was decided that they would walk to the stables so she could see the horses.
“I have three horses that I think should be suitable for you, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Cowlishaw said as they were approaching the stables, which were impressive, several times larger than the farmhouse. “Mr. Darcy mentioned to me that you have just started to learn horse riding and require a calm and small animal.”
Elizabeth nodded. “That would be the best in my case, I think.”
Th
e stable hand brought out three different horses, but Elizabeth’s attention instantly was drawn to the small white mare with long soft mane and a black patch above her eyes, shaped like a star.
“Are you sure?” Darcy asked.
Elizabeth stroked the animal’s neck. “Yes. She is beautiful.”
“Good choice,” Mr. Cowlishaw patted the horse’s back, “She is very docile. Her name is Star, but you can rename her if you wish.”
“Oh, no, Star is perfect.”
“We will need a new saddle as well,” Darcy said, as he checked the horse’s legs and later took a good look at the animal’s teeth.
“I have only two good lady’s saddles at the moment, but I can have more by the end of the week,” Mr. Cowlishaw assured.
Elizabeth did not want to cause more trouble than she already had, so she said quickly. “I am sure that will not be necessary and one of them will be quite suitable.”
The saddle was brought and put on Star.
“Will you try to ride her?” Darcy asked.
Elizabeth nodded, and Darcy lifted her up on the horse. He took the reins and led the horse around the circuit.
“Well?” He looked up at her. “What do you think?”
“I feel more sure on her than on my father’s horse. She is not so tall.”
Darcy stopped the mare. “Straighten your back, love. Your leg should go higher, so you can sit more firmly,” he put a hand on her thigh and arranged it into the right position.
Elizabeth tried to do as he instructed, but she found it difficult to accomplish. “I need more lessons, I am afraid, to be confident enough,” she admitted.
Darcy smiled at her as he put his hands on her waist and brought her down. “Do not worry. We shall learn.”
Mr. Cowlishaw stepped closer. “Is the saddle to your satisfaction, Miss Bennet?”
She smiled, “It is beautiful and very comfortable.”
“It is done then,” Darcy said.
Mr. Cowlishaw bowed. “I will send Star to Pemberley yet today.”
Elizabeth thought that they wanted to talk about the price, so she walked away, giving them some privacy.
They were on their way back to Pemberley, when Elizabeth said, “William, do you think that you could send some help for the Cowlishaws?”
Darcy looked at her in surprise. “Help?”
She nodded. “Yes, the girls told us that Mr. Cowlishaw needed to send the cook away. I doubt whether they were left with any house servant.”
“The girls told us that Mr. Cowlishaw cooked their breakfast today,” Georgiana added, “Poor little ones, they looked a bit hungry.”
Darcy listened intently, “As you wish, Elizabeth, if you think that they need help. Address Mrs. Reynolds about this; she will know what to do.”
“Me?” Elizabeth asked shyly.
“Who else?” he questioned and then smiled at her to reassure her, “You will be Mistress of Pemberley in fewer than two months. Such matters will be your responsibility only. You can very well start from today.”
Elizabeth was not so certain as he. She felt she lacked the authority yet to give instructions to Mrs. Reynolds. The role of the mistress of such a grand household intimidated her more than she was ready to acknowledge, but she did not want to disappoint Darcy. She would approach Mrs. Reynolds and deal with this matter as soon as they returned, she decided.
Chapter Sixteen
Darcy wrapped his favourite dressing gown around his long, lean body and stretched out in a chair in front of the fireplace in his bedroom. The hour was late, and he was more than usually tired. The day had been eventful, first with buying a horse for Elizabeth and later with an estate matter requiring his full attention. Even when everyone had retired for the night, he had yet to answer two important letters that needed to be sent out tomorrow morning. He glanced at the empty bed. What would he have given to have Elizabeth there now, to be able to fall asleep in her arms after a long, tiring day.
At first when he heard a knock, he thought that he imagined it, because it was so quiet, but when it repeated, he walked to the door with a frown. Perhaps it was Georgiana. She had used to run to him at night when she had nightmares, deeply convinced that there was some scary monster living under her bed. He would then have gone with her to her room, lit the candles and made her look under the furniture to prove there was nothing there apart from some abandoned doll. It had not happened, though, for many years now.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered as he saw a small brunette in pristine white nightclothes standing on the doorstep with a single candle in her hand. He pulled her quickly in and closed the door. “Has something happened?”
She shook her head. “I was afraid you were already asleep. You did not answer the door for so long.”
“What is wrong?” he questioned.
“Nothing, I just wanted to talk with you,” she murmured, staring at her feet. “I miss you....We are often together, but almost never alone.”
He took the candle from her hand and put it away. “Come.”
He led her to the fireplace, sat down in the chair and pulled her onto his lap. She sighed, wrapped her arms around his neck, and wriggled herself for a moment till she found the most comfortable position for herself.
“Feeling better now?” he asked, kissing the top of her head.
“Mhm...,” she murmured. “I have realized now that I have not yet thanked you for Star.” She lifted her head from his shoulder and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome. We can start riding tomorrow. Would you like that?”
“Yes,” she drawled, and he could feel a hesitation in her tone.
“Are you sure everything is well?” he asked.
He felt her to stiffen for a very short moment. “Can I stay with you?” she asked in one breath.
Did he hear right? “Stay...?”
“For the night,” she clarified.
His hands on her stilled, “Do you understand what you are saying?”
“Yes,” she answered, her voice clear.
“If you stay, it will not be only sleeping in one bed,” he said, his voice blunt.
“I know.”
He nudged her off his lap and stood up to his full height. They should not do it, he knew. There was always a risk of her becoming with child, even the first time. With their wedding at the end of September, the baby would be born about a month early. Such an occurrence would raise some eyebrows for sure, but it would hardly be a scandal.
Sending her away to her bed was out of question; he would have been an utter fool if he had done that.
Patience, he thought as he took her hand and led her towards his bed. She was responsive and passionate, but was still a maiden and needed long preliminaries. Perhaps later, he would be able to simply pull her under him, open her legs and ease himself into her prone, soft body, but tonight, all the attention had to be concentrated entirely on her.
He pushed the covers aside and helped her to climb onto the tall bed. She sat in the middle, her legs curled under her, her big eyes shining with curiosity.
He was naked under his dressing gown, because that was how he slept. After the wedding, he planned to start wearing a nightshirt for the sake of her sensibilities. He untied the garment and threw it aside, standing as God made him in front of her. Would she run back to her room now?
She shifted closer to the edge of the bed, her eyes scanning his form up and down, finally stopping on his abdomen and lower. She examined him like some exotic animal.
“Can I touch it?” she asked, looking up to him.
He only nodded, not being sure of his voice.
She reached out her hand and began her gentle probing.
“So smooth.” She ran her small finger around his tip. “It is growing,” she giggled.
“I think that is quite enough of the anatomy lesson,” he murmured dryly, quickly joining her on the bed, afraid to ridicule himself.
She was still dressed, including light
home slippers, a nightgown and a dressing robe, even her hair was braided. His arm wrapped around her and he pulled her under him.
He kissed her, tugging at the fuller lower lip. “Are you sure? It is not too late to stop.”
She nodded. “I want to.”
“You do not know how long I waited for this, longed for you.” he whispered, his hand running down her body, feeling her breasts, her soft waist and lower.
“Wait!” she exclaimed, scrambling from under him, disappearing under the covers to crawl under them across the mattress. She appeared standing on the other side of the bed. “I must remove my clothes.”
He moved forward. “I will help you.”
“No!” she pushed her hands in front of herself. “I will do it. I do not want... anything to crumple or get damaged.”
Darcy’s eyebrows shot up. What did she imagine, that he would tear the nightgown off her?
She walked to the chair standing next to the wall and began to undress. First she removed her shoes and, later, her dressing gown, hanging it carefully over the furniture. She was less diligent with her nightgown, which she neglectfully flipped over her head.
For a moment she stood naked with her back to him, her thick braid hanging down her back, clearly shy to turn around. Not that he did not like the sight of her round backside. At last she did turn, after which she raced to the bed, diving under the covers. As the result of this action, he could not see much, or for a long time, but he enjoyed very much how her bosom swayed and jiggled during the run.
He shivered, feeling her naked soft body next to his as he brought her closer. Turning on his back he pulled her partially on him. “Let your hair free.” he said, palming her round, soft bottom.
“It will tangle,” she protested.
“Please.” He tugged at the ribbon at the end of her braid.
She moved away from him, sat up, and began loosening her braid.
“You hair is beautiful...” he dipped his hands into the rich mass of curls.
She shrugged, “It is hard to arrange ...too thick and unruly, heavy to pin up, curls too tightly on rainy days. Mama says I look like a Gypsy/gypsy?, not like an English lady should.”
