Darcy Saga 01 Mr. & Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy (32 page)

"My father gifted this unfilled book to me for the express intent that I initiate inscribing my daily musings, undertakings, and activities of import. I extended my gratefulness, however, deemed it essential in the interest of maintaining frank communication and honesty to inform him that the concept of elucidating personal minutiae betwixt the pages of a book was ludicrous and demeaning. He assured me that it was a worthy endeavor, one that he has partaken in since he was a young man, and further guaranteed my future appreciation in possessing a catalog of my memories. I persist in judging the exercise inane; nonetheless, I shall trust my father and obey his dictates."

Lizzy laughed out loud. So like him to overanalyze even the simple matter of keeping a journal! She returned the slim volume to its designated space. It would consume months if she ever wished to read all the books, so instead she proceeded to the third shelf. Here were stacked several cigar boxes of varying sizes and brands. The oldest by appearance contained an odd assortment of what she could only assume were his "mementos." There was a glass jar filled with a disgusting collection of dead bugs and spiders, oddly shaped knots of wood, ten rocks of diverse colors and textures, a small case with pinned moths, the well-preserved flattened corpse of a toad, and a book with meticulously fine labeled drawings of leaves.

Clearly the treasures of a young boy, although Lizzy could well remember her own fascination with the oddities and marvels of nature. Each subsequent box revealed the maturing Darcy as his possessions grew more sophisticated: a lock of his mother's hair; numerous other sketch books of flowers, trees, animals, insects, and more, all detailed and labeled; programmes from an astounding number of operas and plays; letters from his father, mother, sister, and other loved ones; the reports of his marks from Cambridge (all excellent, Lizzy noted); stamped passage and boarding tags from excursions abroad; and a vast amount of other odds and ends, many of which indubitably held meaning only fathomable to Darcy.

The last box was entirely devoted to Lizzy. A parchment note lying on top of the items was addressed to her:

"My dearest, most precious wife,

Conscious as I am of your formidable and boundless curiosity, my beloved Elizabeth, it is doubtless that you have hastened with alacrity to my armoire and books contained therein, have dutifully scrutinized each page of text and illustrations, and are already formulating diverse methods of employing your newfound enlightenment to shock me! I render this allegation yet wish to assure you, my lover, that I harbor no anguish or repulsion at the idea. I am yours to do with as you will. My only chagrin is that I am too much the gentleman to wager with Vernor and the gang as to how long it takes you from the key's presentation to when you utilize it. I envision you tiptoeing through the corridors early Christmas morning; however, I may be amiss by a day or two
.

Eventually you shall make your way to these boxes. I trust that, after a month of wedded bliss, you will be sufficiently enamored with me so as to not be appalled nor amused by my cloying sentimentality. I jest, for in truth we both know that our mutual love has afforded me the latitude to relinquish the rigid walls of reticence I had erected. I can now relax my guard without shame or fear of rejection, and it is all due to you, my darling wife. I have not the words to convey how you have touched my life. All that hides in this cabinet is yours to explore, my love. You already possess the key to my heart and soul, and the greater value lies therein
.

Yours for all eternity,

William"

Lizzy was laughing and weeping simultaneously. Would he believe that she had
not
first examined the special books? Yes, because despite the rapture savored in the physical aspect of their marriage, the joy of their two lonely souls redeemed and melded into one was unparalleled. She was moved by his declarations of love and faith yet also tickled by his humor and accurate assessment of her actions. With a smile she turned her attention to the box.

Among the anticipated letters she had written during their separations while betrothed were some surprises: one of her handkerchiefs, confiscated she knew not when; a green ribbon loosened from her bonnet that she had completely forgotten to retrieve from him; the hairpin he had intentionally and scandalously removed so he could play with a lock of her hair; the crown of jasmine she had placed on his head at the fountain; the stub of the life candle from his birthday party; one of the gold ribbons worn in her hair at their wedding; a pressed and dried gardenia that she had tucked behind his ear one day while walking; the cork from the champagne drunk on their wedding night; the programme from the symphony performance attended while in London; and so many other little tokens.

Lizzy was amazed. She knew that her William was a romantic, but she had not comprehended the depth of his sentimentality. The astounding plethora of memorabilia collected over his lifetime belied his thirteen-year-old assertions of the inanity of cataloguing his memories and displayed how mawkish he had always been despite his cool exterior. What a complex man she had married!

Lastly, she turned her attention to the books. There were six of them of differing sizes. The largest was a medical textbook devoted to human reproduction and sexuality from the clinical viewpoint. She flipped through it quickly, noting numerous comprehensive illustrations and exhaustive chapters covering everything from bodily systems to diseases to pregnancy. She made a mental note to absorb the latter so she would be prepared for what she prayed was a timely blessing.

The remaining books were decidedly more carnal in nature and brought a ready blush to her cheeks. Perhaps Darcy was correct in keeping these books from her, she thought, as an acute rush of embarrassment washed over her. The illustrations and text were blunt, inclusive, and graphic, clarifying the question of her husband's competence in the bedroom!

The clock chimed five, startling Lizzy. She had been here for almost two hours. She grabbed one of the books at random for perusal at her leisure, folded the letter under the front flap, and made her way silently back to her chambers. Darcy was soundly asleep but no longer snoring. She secreted the book in her bed stand, crawled under the covers, and nestled close to her husband's warm body. He sighed deeply, pulled her into his embrace, sleepily murmured her name, and kissed her forehead without waking. Within seconds she was asleep.

Lord and Lady Matlock departed that morning after breakfast. Lady Matlock embraced Lizzy warmly, thanking her for a delightful Christmas. The Earl, looking a wee bit peaked, kissed her hand also thanking her, and smilingly assured her that he would gladly thrash his nephew if he maltreated her in any way. Lizzy laughed and with a nod to her husband pledged to accept the offer if necessary.

The three younger men were all rather pale, wincing in the bright sunlight and trembling. They spent their day in quiet pursuits, primarily in the library with the draperies drawn. The servants, although somewhat bleary eyed from their own night of revelry, had boxed up the feast residuals for the orphanages. Lizzy insisted on delivering them herself, and Amelia agreed to accompany her. The two orphanages nearest to Pemberley were large establishments housed in solid brick buildings, full to capacity, maintained and financed by the combined charity of the prominent families of the Shire and the local parishes. The first was actually on Pemberley lands in the tiny village and was managed by the Church, the second in Baslow and operated by the Catholics.

Lizzy was overwhelmed and fiercely moved by the children's pleasure and charm. Each of them was adorable in their own special way, appreciative, playful, and loving. Her wonder and joy in observing their delight was immense. This simple Boxing Day tradition would translate into another Mistress of Pemberley benevolence, as Lizzy would volunteer most every Friday afternoon at the Pemberley orphanage in the years to come.

For the inhabitants and guests at Pemberley, the eleven days between Christmas and Twelfth Night were memorable and exceedingly pleasurable. The weather was primarily clear, if extremely cold, another three inches of snow dropping only one other night. This fairness allowed for frequent walks, more ice skating, fishing twice again with Col. Fitzwilliam and Darcy partaking once, horseback riding, and the annual winter fox hunt for the gentlemen of the region. The men socialized at the coffeehouse once and The Red Deer pub twice, while the ladies strolled through Lambton shopping. For the most part, they remained inside the manor enjoying its warmth and homey comforts, excellent entertainments by the diversely artistic group, games of all varieties, conversation, and fine dining. Afternoon retreats to the upper chambers for napping and intimate occupations were not uncommon.

The Lathrops and Gardiners were to stay until the ninth of January. Richard, unfortunately, was required to return to his regiment in Town on the third. Madame du Loire delivered Lizzy's ball gown on the second, performing the final fitting personally. The women were all twittery and gushy, casting numerous sly glances Darcy's way, much to his embarrassment but escalating excitement.

Lizzy had precious few private moments to glance through the book she had taken from Darcy's cabinet and no opportunity to discuss his letter, personal memoirs, or the books with him until the morning of the twenty-eighth. Between the whirlwind of activities and host duties and Darcy's indisposition the day after Christmas, they had secured no private time at all. This day she decided, with deliberate planning, to wake her husband early and monopolize the entire morning. Such was her anticipation that she slept poorly, yet undeterred and with bounding heart, she slipped out of bed at the crack of dawn to freshen up and garb herself in Darcy's favorite gauzy nightgown. She returned hastily. Darcy slept supine with one arm across her empty pillow as if reaching for her. He was lulled into partial awareness by the pleasurable sensation of his wife nuzzling and kissing his neck while caressing his chest.

"Hmmm..." He sighed, impulsively hugging her tightly and lacing his fingers through her cascading hair. Far more asleep than awake, he nonetheless sought her lips and kissed her lazily and then with increasing ardor as he roused further in response to her insistence. Once she sensed he was completely awake, she pulled away from his iron grip, not an easy task, and sat up on her knees.

"Elizabeth," he pleaded, voice hoarse from sleep and desire, "please..."

She halted his words with a finger to his lips. It was then that he fully noted her attire and his grin spread. "Happy anniversary, my darling husband," she said in a throaty whisper while lightly running her fingers over his face. "Did you forget, my love, that today marks one month of our wedded bliss?"

"No, beloved. I simply intended to allow you to sleep longer before I gave you your gift," he replied, reaching up and firmly tugging on one of the ties to her gown.

"Would you prefer to resume your slumber then? Or can I interest you in an alternate bedroom activity?"

"I shall assume those are rhetorical questions requiring no answer." Another tie released.

"Very well then." She reached across his body, deliberately, for the book resting on his bed stand. Somehow the third tie came loose.

"Ha!" he laughed harshly when he saw the book. "How long have you had that?"

She primly pursed her lips and lifted her chin, "Let us just say that you would have lost your bet with Mr. Vernor, had you made it." He continued to chuckle as another tie was undone and she slapped his hand. "Focus, sir."

"I am," he mumbled, but she ignored him.

Lizzy opened the book, trying unsuccessfully not to blush. "Page five is promising, as is thirteen. However, twenty intrigues me. Of course we could attempt all three." She said the last in a whisper, cheeks flushed, and eyes downcast.

Darcy watched her with amusement and overwhelming love. "You promised not to incapacitate me, love. I
am
only human."

She smiled and met his twinkling eyes. "I made no such promise. You merely asked me to pity your advanced age and presumed I would acquiesce. Besides, I have the utmost faith in your stamina and capabilities."

"Ah, a challenge!" he declared, briskly snatching the book from her hands. "The gauntlet has been thrown! Let me see, page five... Hmmm, yes it is doable." He slyly glanced at her bright face, turning the book to the left and studying it intently. Lizzy giggled and lay at his side with her head on his shoulder so she could see the pages. He flipped to page thirteen and employed a clinical tone, "Interesting, very interesting. Excellent choice Mrs. Darcy, if you deem yourself adequately flexible. Your taste is impeccable." She hid her rosy face in his upper arm, shaking with mirth. "Now, page twenty. Intriguing indeed! Allow me a moment to peruse the text to comprehend the finer nuances..."