Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (54 page)

“That is twice you have called her lovely, Cousin.” Darcy raised one brow.

Samuel’s eyes widened.  “I did not mean anything by it, William.”

Darcy made a show of scanning his face and nodded.  “Forgive me, I am protective.  Ridiculously so, I imagine Elizabeth would tell me.”  He shrugged with a smile.  “She will just have to live with it.”

“So will I, it seems.”  He at last spotted the amusement in his cousin’s face and shaking his head, tapped his watch.  “Probably ten minutes by now.”

“I am going.”  He laughed.  “What has become of me?”

Returning to the carriage he entered along with a strong gust of cold air.  Elizabeth shivered.  “I should have come with you!”

“No, my wife does not enter offices on business.”  He rapped the roof with his walking stick and they began moving.  Taking her hands in his, he rubbed.  “Ice, love!  These gloves are worthless!  We will stop and find you good heavy gloves tomorrow.  You will need them for the long trip home.  Hopefully the weather will behave and we will not suffer any delays.”

“Is it usually bad?”

“No, terribly cold though.  We will have to hold each other to stay warm.”  He wrapped his arms around her.  “Like this.” 

“mmmm.”  She settled into his embrace and smiled as he nuzzled her neck.  “Your happiness shows.  You had good news.”

“Perhaps.”  He lifted his head to see her smile.  “I hope so.  This is an area of the law I do not know at all.  We cannot truly adopt him and we cannot give him our name until he chooses it himself when he becomes a man.”  He lifted his shoulders when her brow creased, “I would be lying to say I am not disappointed.  So we must choose a surname as well as a Christian name.  And as Samuel pointed out, it should probably be Scottish, considering where we will be.”

“Oh.”  Elizabeth met his eyes and he watched as hers brightened.

“What are you thinking?”

“There is a gallery at Pemberley, with all of your ancestors on display?”  He nodded.  “Perhaps one of the previous mistresses was of Scottish descent?   Use her surname.”  She smiled as a slow smile came over his face, “Some of her blood is in that child.”

“So it is.  Actually, the home where we will stay for Georgiana’s confinement was purchased to please my great great grandmother.  She was a  Cargill, who was homesick after marrying.  Perhaps it would be appropriate to give her surname to the child.”  Elizabeth nodded and hugging her, he returned to his nibbling.  “You are brilliant, love.”

“I am being eaten!”  She laughed and tried to bat him away, but he only increased his embrace.  “Fitzwilliam!”

“You said that you wished to spend this time knowing more of each other.  I am making a detailed assessment of your ear,” his breath was warm and it tickled, “and what happens when I kiss you,” his lips wandered back to her throat, “mmmm, yes, when I kiss you here.”

“You are making this plan to behave until we hear from your uncle impossible.”  Elizabeth sighed and turning her head, found his mouth waiting to embrace hers.  Darcy lifted her onto his lap, and kissed her lingeringly.  Melting into him, she moaned, “Ohhhhh, this is the way I love to be kissed.”

Chuckling, he drew away and studied her face.  “My goodness, Mrs. Darcy!  Are you a wanton?”

Embarrassed, she retaliated, “Who pulled who onto his lap?  Who is poking me with his manhood all night and,” she shifted so that he groaned, “as we speak?”

“I poke at you all night?”

“Unless you sleep with a stout stick tied to your waist, yes, you do.”  Darcy’s mouth dropped open and he leapt when her hands moved down from his chest to rest over his arousal.  “What is in your pocket, sir?”

“You strumpet!”  He cried and revelled in her sparkling eyes.  “If we were not in a carriage with far too many windows . . .”

“I am presently seated on your lap, freely visible to any who care to look in, Husband.”

“You are not facing me and bouncing on said lap, Wife.”

“Bouncing?”  Her eyes grew wide.  “Why would I bounce?”

“Oh Lord, give me strength.”  Darcy groaned and pulled her hard against his chest.  “Please dearest, if you have any mercy in your veins, please change the topic of conversation, or I shall lose all control and direct this carriage home to teach you a lesson.”

“I thought that you are not so experienced.”

“Elizabeth Darcy . . . please do not question . . .” Darcy sighed and buried his face in the fur collar of her coat.  “Trust me that I know . . . things.”

“Have you done these things?”

“Elizabeth . . .”

“Or have you merely imagined them . . .”

“Elizabeth, please!” 

She giggled and kissed his ear, and brushing her lips over his soft cheek, gently suckled his lobe.  “Would you like to know what I have imagined as I was poked during the night?”  She jumped when he pinched her bottom hard.  “Ow!”

“That is for the pain you are giving me.”  He growled.

“Perhaps I might find a way to relieve it a bit tonight?”  She whispered.  Darcy looked up to her quickly; his eyes were wide with delighted surprise. “No, dear man, I have no idea what has made me so lusty today.  I just cannot stop thinking about you.”

“I rather like that.”  Darcy’s eyes twinkled.  “And yes, I am more than willing to subject myself to your imaginings, all for the cause of educational purposes, of course.”

“Of course.”  They kissed and settled into each other as the carriage slowly moved along.  At last they turned onto Grosvenor Street and into Grosvenor Square.  Reluctantly Elizabeth slid from his lap.

“Matlock House, the third one there.”  Darcy pointed to the row of townhouses looming outside of the window.  “I have no idea what to expect from him, although I have a few predictions.”

“Richard seemed hopeful, it cannot be worse than Lady Catherine?”

“No, I do think at least we have no worries there, he would want to be better than she, but that does not mean he will be standing with his arms open, either.”  The carriage stopped and the door opened, and soon they were inside.

“It is so cold.”  Elizabeth whispered as she looked around the foyer and maintained her firm grip on Darcy’s arm.  “This is so different from your home.”

“Our home.”  He corrected softly and smiled when she sighed.  “I look forward to the day when that seems natural to you.  What do you think is different?  By cold, I assume that you do not mean the heat.”  He glanced at the small fire burning in a grate near the door.

“No.  Darcy House is . . . well, the opposite.  It is warm, inviting.”  She smiled to see his eyes take on that look of pride.  “A home.”

“It is a home now that you are there.”  He kissed her cheeks as they coloured.  “So it is a warm home.  Despite its size?”

“Even despite its size, it is lived in.  This seems more like a place to be shown off.  I suppose it is.”  She leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment and he kissed her temple.  “How is it that Darcy House is larger than this, an Earl’s home?  And stands alone?”

“Grosvenor Square is hardly a poor address.  My ancestors settled on one plot of land, the Lord Matlock of years past took this one.  I agree though, I have never felt warmth here.  No wonder Richard was always visiting us.” 

“What was your mother like?”  Elizabeth looked towards the grand staircase.  “This is where she grew up.”

Darcy followed her gaze around the hall.  “No, she was not raised here, she grew up at Matlock.  Her parents never travelled with the children, they were left to the governess and the servants.  She did not come to London until she was older.  I believe she was fourteen when the masters began teaching her during the Season here.”  He nodded thoughtfully, “Yes, I remember Father once remarking how she had all of the talent for the arts and her sister, Lady Catherine, had all of the talent for discourse.  One was pretty, accomplished, and graceful, the other . . . not as much.”

“It is surprising that your aunt found someone to marry.”  Elizabeth mused and Darcy laughed softly.  “Did I say something?”

“The daughter of an Earl with forty thousand pounds?”  He watched Elizabeth’s mouth drop open and nodded.  “Yes, there was no problem finding any number of suitors for her, although she rather fancied the handsome ones who wanted nothing to do with her.”

“Your father?”

“Hmmm.”  He shrugged.  “Perhaps.   Perhaps she was just always jealous of her sister and wanted what she had as a matter of course.”

“Forty thousand, for each of the daughters?” 

Darcy nodded.  “Grandfather, Lord Matlock, was an accomplished gambler.  He won an exceptional bet one night.”

“And that was the dowry?”

“From what I understand, it was his recompense to my grandmother for whatever he did to earn it.  The embarrassment was too much for her, and she demanded his winnings because she declared that he had ruined their daughters’ value by being such a fool.  So, in addition to the dowries that had been already set aside for them, he split his pot between them.”  Elizabeth shook her head and he lifted her hand to his lips.  “What are you thinking?”

“The rich look down upon the poor, but see how they squander what they have on foolishness.” 

“I could tell you many tales of eccentric bets at that club, and with Beau Brummel in the window now, there are undoubtedly as many based on attire as drunken speculation on wedding dates.”  Darcy chuckled when her eyes closed.  “I promise you, I have only watched, no matter how much I am encouraged to join in.”  Elizabeth bit her lip, and Darcy tilted his head.  “What is it, love?”

“Are we being ignored?  Should we not be in a sitting room by now?”

“Hmm.”  Darcy nodded.

“Is this some sort of punishment?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“For marrying me?”

“For not marrying my cousin.”  He met her eye.  “What are you thinking?”

“You ask me that frequently, I wonder when we will be so close that you will read my mind.”  Darcy smiled and kissed her hand again.  “Do you really want to know?”

“I have a feeling that I do already.”  

“But did you not say that Richard thinks he is trying to get in your good graces?  How does this help?”

“It is the subtlest form of expressing displeasure he can manage.  I hope he will be welcoming when we are at last received . . . ah, and here we go.”  Elizabeth turned to look down the hallway to see an elderly butler approaching. 

“Forgive the delay, sir.  Lord Matlock was quite occupied and it took him some time to notice me.”  He bowed and turned.   “Please follow me.”  The couple exchanged glances and Darcy’s lips twitched. 

“Do I have permission to be myself?”

He shot her a look and his eyes twinkled.  “I would be disappointed if you were anything less.” 

They entered a grandly decorated drawing room and standing within was a tall, solidly built elder man, his hair was thick and white, but there was still a hint of blonde in his brows.  He came forward immediately with his hand extended.  “Darcy!  Forgive the delay, I had no idea you were here.”  He looked down to Elizabeth appraisingly.  “And you must be the woman who has taken my sister’s place?”

“Uncle, may I present my wife, Elizabeth?  Dearest, this is my Uncle, Barton Fitzwilliam, Earl of Matlock.”

“Lord Matlock.”  She curtseyed.

“Now none of that, my dear, no need to curtsey.”

“Oh, thank you, sir.  Lord Matlock.”  Hearing the slightest clearing of her husband’s throat, she smiled warmly.  “When we host you and your family at Pemberley, I will be sure to let the staff know that we are to be alerted immediately upon your arrival.  Of course, they will be looking out for you, knowing that you are expected.”

Lord Matlock looked at her askance and then to Darcy, whose expression was smooth.  “I believe that I have been chastised, Darcy.”

“My wife is no shrinking violet.” 

“So I have heard from my sister.”  He nodded thoughtfully, and waving his hand, he invited them to sit.  “Some refreshment?  I am afraid that I am no good at these domestic niceties, this is my wife’s forte, not mine.”

“I will be glad to pour out, sir.”  Elizabeth offered.  “What is this?”   She picked up a small bottle containing a milky white liquid.

“Ah, that is orgeat syrup, a favourite of my wife’s in her tea.  I do not know how it goes myself, but it is a traditional drink in some places for toasting a wedding, and we always have some out at our parties.”  He raised his brows, “You have not tried it?”

“No.”  Elizabeth looked to Darcy. 

“I believe it is made with barley and rose water.”

“This one is made with bitter almonds, it is quite nice . . .”  He picked up the bottle and pouring  into a glass, handed it to her with a smile.  “Try it.” 

“Thank you.”  Elizabeth held the glass in her hand and remembered her duty.  “Oh, your tea . . .”

“You would prefer some port would you not, Darcy?”  Lord Matlock walked to stand at a table with his back to them, fussing with a decanter.  He poured out two glasses and nodded his head to the footman at the door.   The young man came forward with a bottle and presented it to Darcy.  “That is a little wedding gift for you, this is the same port.” 

“Thank you, Uncle.”  Darcy read the label and setting down the bottle, accepted the proffered glass.  Lord Matlock took a seat and watched closely as Darcy swirled the wine, then setting it down on the table, clasped his hands and looked up.  “What do you say we clear the air before we offer toasts?”

“I am sorry, Darcy . . .” He glanced to the side and watched Elizabeth set down her glass and look to her husband.  “Very well, perhaps it is better that we do clear the air before we are all together at Christmas, pretending that everything is roses, eh?”  He laughed hollowly.  “Perhaps this would be best without Mrs. Darcy present?”

“Why?  You welcomed her with delight in your letter; do not tell me it was feigned.”  Darcy fixed him with his sharp gaze. 

“Lord, but you look like your mother when you do that, or rather like your Aunt.”  Lord Matlock marvelled. 

“Would you like me to leave, Fitzwilliam?”  Elizabeth asked quietly. 

Taking her hand in his he shook his head and looked to his uncle.  “You are part of this family now, Elizabeth.  I have met your relatives, and now you shall meet mine.  And at Christmas . . .”