by Ola Wegner
As he sat down next to the bed, looking at her, he wondered where they were going.
***
“There is no one there,” the footman said as he peered inside one of the windows.
It was close to eight in the evening; the sun was setting as they arrived at the cottage Darcy had rented for their two-week stay.
“The servants were supposed to wait for us yesterday evening with dinner,” Darcy mentioned.
“Perhaps they reached the conclusion that you had changed your plans when we did not come yesterday, and resigned from the stay,” Elizabeth suggested.
Darcy nodded. “That is possible. Thankfully, I have a key. The owner sent it to me in the letter last week.”
“Are you certain that it is the right cottage?” Elizabeth asked apprehensively, worrying they were about to invade someone else's property.
“Oh, yes, I vacationed here once with my parents and Georgiana when she was still a baby,” he assured. “I remember it well.”
Darcy produced the key from the inner pocket of his coat and proceeded to open the front door. His wife followed him closely.
“It is lovely,” Elizabeth said as she glanced around the interiors. “So light and spacious, though it looks so small on the outside.”
Darcy gave a thoughtful expression. “I must send the driver to Brighton to contact the owner. I have his address written down somewhere.”
“It is quite late, and the horses are tired, the same as the driver and the footman,” she pointed out. “Would it not be wiser to wait till tomorrow?”
“The owner must send servants, a cook and a maid at the very least,” he insisted. “Who will make dinner?”
She fought hard not to laugh at the low prolonged rumble coming from his stomach. Someone must be hungry.
“There must be something left in the pantry,” she replied calmly. “We shall be fine for one night.”
He stepped from one foot to the other, obviously undecided.
“We shall be fine,” she repeated with force. “I will look through the pantry. You go see to our trunks being unloaded, and see which room above stairs is suitable for us.”
He seemed taken aback by her ordering, but after a short moment of hesitation, he nodded his head silently, and stepped out of the house.
Elizabeth found the kitchen and was pleased to see that the pantry was well stocked. She found bread, a bit of ham, cheese, eggs and even cake. She decided to make sandwiches, and if she managed to start the fire in the stove, perhaps even tea and scrambled eggs. There was a large, clean apron on a hook, which she had to wrap around herself several times. Still, it protected her pretty dress.
When she had the sandwiches and tea on the table, and two dozen eggs were sizzling on the large frying pan, she called in a raised voice. “Dinner is ready.”
Heavy steps were heard and soon Darcy appeared.
He stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen with his mouth agape.
“You made all this by yourself?” he asked unbelievably. “And in such a short time?”
She smiled modestly. “I only cut the bread, ham and cheese into sandwiches.”
He sniffed, stepping to the stove. “You fried eggs,” he cried, wide eyed, as she moved the pan off the fire.
She shrugged. “It was not that difficult. I observed our cook making scrambled eggs for the servants many times as Jane and I prepared tea. It was rather tricky to start the fire in the stove, but I managed somehow.”
He pulled her into a hug. “You are one in a kind. I lack the words.”
A warm feeling filled her at his praise. He kissed her rosy cheek, warmed from the heat, and sat himself behind the table, clearly expecting to be served his food.
She gave him a pointed look.
“What about your men? They must be hungry too.”
“We will give them the leftovers,” he dismissed her concern.
“They need to eat something warm. They have not had a warm meal since breakfast early in the morning.”
His bushy eyebrows rose almost to his hair line. “You expect them to eat with us?”
“Please call them here,” she insisted.
He shook his head no, eagerly eyeing the pan with hot eggs.
Elizabeth put the pan back on the stove and came to the window.
Opening it wide, she called out. “Ay, can you come here? I need your assistance.”
A minute later, the driver and footman appeared in the door to the kitchen. Elizabeth asked them to sit down. She filled the four plates with eggs, setting the smallest portion for herself.
The servants seemed unsure how to behave, but as Darcy said nothing, they thanked her for the food and began to eat.
Twenty minutes later, there were only sparse crumbs left on the table. It was obvious that the footman and driver had similar appetites to their Master.
As soon as they finished, the men stood up and thanked Elizabeth once again, quite profusely, bowing in front of her. They called her Mistress, and somehow the title pleased her immensely.
“Where are they going to sleep?” she wanted to know when they left.
“There are some rooms next to the stables,” he explained. “They shall be fine.”
“More tea?” she asked.
“No, thank you.” He pulled her onto his lap, nuzzling her neck. “It was all delicious.”
“You have a French cook at Pemberley, as Georgiana told me. I am certain you usually eat much more sophisticated dishes than bread, cold ham and fried eggs.”
“You underestimate yourself, as always. You must accept the truth: that I have an intelligent, beautiful, and very capable wife.” He lifted her hands to his lips, kissing her slim fingers.
Her expression fell visibly. “You do not have to say that,” she murmured, trying to lift from his lap.
He frowned, keeping her firmly to himself. “I do not understand.”
“I am not beautiful,” she clarified, avoiding his gaze. “I know what I look like. I can be called pretty on my good days, but nothing more.”
“You are beautiful to me.” He squeezed her to him, his gaze earnest. “You think I would lie to you?”
She hesitated with an answer before shaking her head no.
He captured her lips in a gentle kiss. She responded, opening her mouth to his tongue, locking her arms around his neck, her fingers tugging at his hair.
Darcy grunted softly, breaking the kiss.
“You certainly gained the approval of my servants,” he changed the subject.
“Truly?”
He nodded. “Yesterday, when I explained that we had to delay our trip because you felt unwell, I thought that Black, the driver, would kill me with his gaze, as it was so disapproving. He drove my parents, and I think he considers himself a father figure to me. He said nothing, but must have guessed what I did to you.”
“You did nothing to me,” she protested.
“I should have been gentler,” he said regretfully.
“I told you many times that it could not have been helped.” She stroked his cheek. “I feel so much better today. There is no need for you to torture yourself about this matter any longer.”
He did not seem particularly convinced with her reasoning, but let it go, asking whether she wished to retire for night.
“Can we see the sea?” she asked animatedly. “I can smell the salt and hear the gulls in the air, crying. I want to see them.”
“Now?”
“It is not yet completely dark. Is it far from here?”
“Not very far, not more than a hundred yards behind the garden.”
The walk to the shore was indeed short, and Elizabeth was delighted with the view of a small beach, guarded from both sides by the bushes and tall grass. The birds circled in the air and occasionally dove for whatever they had spied. She knew soon they would nest for the night. Well pleased with all she saw, she stopped to retrieve a small seashell.
“We will have privacy here. No one should co
me here but us,” Darcy assured.
Elizabeth tossed her treasure in the surf and ran to the very edge of the water. Bending down, she splashed water with her fingers and laughed.
Darcy stood behind her, watching her reaction.
“I owe you an apology,” she said, looking up at him with sincerity. “I should have been more appreciative about your surprise.” She raised her hand to her brow for a better view and stared at the sea, inhaling the sharp air. “I feel that I will like it here.” She reached for his hand. “And very much so,” she said with a smile.
He returned her smile with one of his own. The touch of her small hand in his and the soft look in her eyes warmed his heart as he began to think—to hope—there just might be a happily ever after for them after all.
They walked hand in hand up the sloped sandy dune past the tall grass to their honeymoon cottage.
Chapter Twenty – Two
Elizabeth smiled in contentment at the sensation of the sea breeze combined with the sun rays sweeping over her face. On opening her eyes, she saw the bluest sky she had ever encountered. It was the tenth day of their stay at the cottage near Hove, and she was sad to think that in a few days, they would have to return to reality.
She sat up, brushing the sand from the tartan blanket spread beneath her, and from her bare feet. She wore no stockings or garters, as she had not bothered to put them on in the morning. They had never left the cottage and its surroundings since they had arrived here; neither had they admitted guests. It allowed her to abandon her footwear completely. Darcy did not seem to mind, only smirking from time when he caught the sight of her feet. As a child, she had loved running barefoot, even though she had been vehemently denied it. Her mother had disapproved of the habit very strongly, and always made sure that her second daughter had put on silky stockings and pretty leather shoes, even on the hottest of summer days.
There were times when Elizabeth had succeeded in abandoning her shoes, hiding them in some safe place (like her father’s library, which was excellent for the purpose) to be able run barefoot to Lucas Lodge to play with Charlotte and her siblings. Her mother had always discovered the truth though, usually learning it from an equally scandalized Lady Lucas. The woman had never failed to comment how Elizabeth had again come for a visit wearing nothing on her legs.
Tilting her head, she put a hand over her eyes to create a shadow against the sharp sunlight, hoping to catch a glimpse of her husband, who had been in the water for the last half hour. Darcy was an excellent swimmer, but still she worried whenever he disappeared in the waves for a long time.
Her eyes narrowed as they focused on the tall, lean form emerging from the water.
He never bothered with clothes, swimming naked. It was quite a shock when she had caught sight of his bare bum disappearing in the waves.
She was certain he did not notice her watching him, and she laid down on her side, pretending to sleep.
Soon a shadow came over her. She cracked one eye slightly open, and observed through her eyelashes as he dried himself with a towel before pulling on his breeches. His manhood looked so small, probably shrivelled from the coldness of the water. It was impossible to believe that it was the very same thing which had caused her such discomfort.
“Have you not been in the sun for too long?” he asked, dropping to his knees next to her.
She stilled her body, shutting her eyes, fighting hard to prevent the giggle emerging from inside.
“Perhaps you should have brought a parasol,” he offered. “I do not wish you to suffer from a heat stroke.”
“I am in deep slumber, taking a nap,” she murmured in a low voice, not opening her eyes. “That is why I cannot hear you.”
She sensed him stretching beside her, the substantial weight of his arm resting on her waist.
“You have not been in deep slumber for some time now.”
Opening her eyes, she smiled up at him. “How perceptive of you, Mr. Darcy. Will you teach me to swim?” she asked, changing the subject.
He seemed surprised with her request, giving her a searching, confused look. “You have never before said that you want to learn.”
She shrugged. “I want to now. Can I? Will you teach me?”
She did not mention that her monthly bleeding had ended only two days ago, which prevented her from asking for a swimming lesson previously. She could not help but feel some disappointment when a few days after her wedding, like every month, her courses had come.
She was obviously not with child, which would have been the only pleasant thing derived from her wedding night. She frowned inwardly, thinking how unjust she was. Not everything she had experienced that night deserved such a harsh evaluation. The kisses and caresses which had come at the beginning had been most enjoyable. The conversation which had come the next morning had been both enlightening and freeing, allowing her to understand Darcy better and trust him more.
Becoming a mother was still her wish, though she was less than eager to participate in the activities necessary to beget the child. Her husband was very accommodating in that aspect, and did not pressure her into rekindling their marital relations. They shared a bed, even though there were two more spare bedrooms in the cottage. He was a perfect gentleman when it came to respecting her personal space. He touched her every day and night, but innocently. He kissed and embraced her, but still he kept his hands as a respectable distance, never touching her bosom or lower body.
She was aware that such a state would not last forever. The soreness between her legs had abated completely and her spirits were much improved. There was no point in delaying what was unavoidable. Perhaps she should allow him closer this evening? She would not conceive any time soon if all they did was kiss, embrace, and hold hands.
“Are you certain?” His question brought her back from her musings to the present moment. “You wish to learn how to swim?”
“Quite certain.”
“You had such a serious expression painted on your face a moment ago,” he noted.
“I was thinking…” she hesitated, before admitting shyly. “My soreness is gone.”
He frowned. “Your soreness…” His eyes widened in understanding after a moment. “Elizabeth, dearest, we have time. You do not have to feel pressured.”
“My courses have just ended. I am not with child,” she confessed bluntly.
“This worries you?” he asked, his expression unreadable to her.
“We could try again,” she said, avoiding the direct answer and his eyes.
“You want a child so much?” She sensed sadness in his tone.
“You do not?”
He was thoughtful for a moment before speaking, his voice and expression cautious. “I have not changed my opinion since our last conversation about children. Would it not be better to wait till you settle into your new life? There is no hurry. We have been married for less than two weeks. We are young. The children will come one day, sooner or later. Let us not fret about it now, hmmm?” He gave her an easy smile, but it did not reach his eyes.
She nodded, not quite convinced with his reasoning, but choosing not to speak of it more for now. Tonight, she decided, she would put on the nightgown which she had received as a gift from her aunt. It was, for the lack of the better words, indecent, and she hoped it would break his resolve to wait.
“What about my swimming lessons?” she asked, hoping to distract him from the previous subject.
“Today perhaps?” He smiled, brushing the wisp of hair falling over her eyes. “The sea is calm enough, but I think that we should wait till later in the afternoon, when the water is warmer, or even closer to the evening.”
He turned to lie on his back, pulling her with him. She followed eagerly, placing her head on chest, her arm draped over his waist. His skin was pleasantly cool from his swim.
“This is how I think an afterlife will be for me, if I am fortunate enough to reach Heaven,” he said after a moment of silence between them.
&nb
sp; She lifted on her elbow, staring down at him with a small frown. “An afterlife? Is it not a little too soon to be thinking about that?”
His eyes met hers with serious intensity. “I cannot imagine anything more perfect after I die.”
An army of butterflies invaded her stomach, a sensation she had often felt lately when in his presence. Many times she was unable to break eye contact with him, as if he had some kind of power over her.
“Do you believe that we will meet our loved ones there; your parents, my father?” she asked as she sat up cross-legged on the blanket.
“I want to believe in that. I want them to be happy, and I know that they are, because they are together again. I would like to see my mother, so she could embrace me once more.” He looked straight in front of himself, his voice even, but laced with underlying emotion. “My father, too, so we could explain all the misunderstandings we had in the years before he died.”
“If you need an embrace, I am always here,” she spoke quietly.
He sat up too, placing one hand on her knee, the other cupping her cheek. “I know.”
Shyly, she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him to her with all her might, his head placed over her shoulder.
“I would wish to believe that Papa is looking over us, over me, Jane and our younger sisters,” she confessed when he pulled away from her.
“I would like my parents to be proud of me.”
“They are,” she assured fervently.
“I have my doubts about that,” he spoke slowly. “They were exceptional people, both of them. They taught me how to be a good man, all the right principles, and I know that I failed them.”
She took his hand in her much smaller hands, giving it a firm squeeze. “You did not.”
“I did.” He looked her right in the eye. “I am not the man they wanted me to grow into. I can feel it deep down in my heart. I failed Georgiana when I allowed Wickham near her last summer. I did not protect her. I can be selfish and self concerned. What is worse is that most of the time, I do not see myself as being such. I do not even want to mention what I did to you.”
She rolled her eyes. She was fed up with hearing him agonizing himself about their wedding night. “I am well. I have assured you so many times. You are too hard on yourself. There is always a room for improvement when someone is aware of one’s imperfections.”
