Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice Sequel Bundle: 3 Reader Favorites (186 page)

On the evening of the eighth, the day before their guests were to depart, the Darcys hosted the dinner party that Darcy had impulsively arranged during the Masque. Along with the Lathrops and the Gardiners, there were Gerald and Harriet Vernor, George and Alison Fitzherbert, Rory and Julia Sitwell, Clifton and Chloe Drury, and Albert and Marilyn Hughes.

Gerald Vernor and Albert Hughes were the two closest friends, dating from Darcy’s youth. These three, along with Richard Fitzwilliam and George Wickham, had been nearly inseparable when young. Darcy and Hughes were avid billiards players and, by the tender age of seventeen, had so mastered the game that no one in all of Derbyshire could supplant them as the county’s champions. Darcy, Vernor, and the future Col. Fitzwilliam had in common a passion for horses. Wickham was younger than the other boys and had shadowed them more than anything, although they had honestly considered him a friend until he went wild as a young man at University.

Rory Sitwell had become acquainted with Darcy at Cambridge. Neither man had met the other before, so it was a pleasant coincidence to establish a mutual friendship with someone from home. Sitwell’s personality was similar to Darcy’s and Lathrop’s: reserved, taciturn, serious, dry witted, and aloof. Vernor, Hughes, and Col. Fitzwilliam inclined toward affability, jocularity, and gaiety. They were an odd group by all outward appearances, but like Darcy and Bingley, their opposite natures blended. Among the many traits the men did have in common were moral uprightness and fierce loyalty to their families and community.

George Fitzherbert and Clifton Drury were well into their late thirties and, although Darcy knew them from town, they were not close friends. Normally Darcy would not have been disposed to invite them to dine at Pemberley; however, Lizzy’s positive impression of their wives had pleased Darcy, so he had happily included them.

Aside from the apparently confirmed bachelorhood of Col. Fitzwilliam, Darcy was the last to find happiness as a wedded man, an event that may have caused dismay with the young women of Derbyshire but pleased his friends immensely. The natural gulf that had appeared between them at
Darcy’s persistent single status while they were married and beginning their families had spawned a faint distress, not that any of them would have acknowledged it.

All of Darcy’s compatriots had chosen their wives based on affection to one degree or another. None of them was as wealthy as Darcy nor had his responsibilities, yet they too had felt the pressure to marry wisely within the strict dictates of society, and all of them had done so. Therefore, the shock at Darcy, of all people, breaking the mores as he had in marrying Elizabeth Bennet had staggered them.

Gentlemen may not tend to gossip to the extent that women purportedly do, although this allegation could well be a misrepresentation; however, these men had shared many a baffled conversation regarding their friend’s decision. Now, having been introduced to the new Mrs. Darcy, noting her beauty and grace and decorousness, and observing Darcy’s clear infatuation and joy, their relief and comprehension improved.

The dinner was a success. With the assistance of Mrs. Reynolds, Lizzy planned a perfect evening. Georgiana had begged to absent herself from the party, an understandable request, and since Mrs. Annesley had returned from her holiday with her family, Georgiana dined with her companion in her chambers. Lizzy had met Mr. and Mrs. Hughes briefly at the Masque. Marilyn Hughes was currently six months into her first pregnancy and had not felt well at the Ball, prompting an early departure. Fortunately, she felt well enough to attend the Darcy dinner party, and Lizzy found her delightful.

Lizzy entertained the ladies in her parlor after dinner and they all bonded easily. Aunt Gardiner, far older than all the rest and, therefore, with little in common with them, happily sat silently in joy at seeing her niece make new friends. She well remembered how difficult it had been for her to leave her family and intimates as a young bride. Love for one’s husband was of the utmost importance, yet female companionship was also essential.

In addition, Violet knew that Lizzy would eventually reach a point where her separation from Jane would overwhelm her. Having other young ladies nearby with whom she felt an affinity to comfort her and fill that void was indispensable. She was correct in her assessment. Over the course of time, these women would form deep alliances, sustain and succor each other, offer advice and wisdom, and raise the next generation of Derbyshire citizens to carry on the tradition of friendship and community.

Lizzy shed several tears over the departure of her aunt and uncle and the Lathrops, but she was comforted first in the knowledge that they would see each other in a few months and then again in Darcy’s arms. Lizzy had insisted that, except for the remains of the Yule log, which by tradition had to be packed away on Twelfth Day, all the other decorations stay up until after the guests departed.

Therefore, no sooner had quiet descended on the manor and Georgiana retreated to her pianoforte than Elizabeth purposefully grasped her husband’s hand and fulfilled her vow by leading him to each hanging mistletoe globe for a kiss. They managed to keep all proper and chaste until the third floor. By the time they reached the last ball dangling just outside their sitting room door, the twenty-fourth not counting the Darcy kissing bough, the individual kisses had evolved into a ceaseless passionate one that persisted well into the bedchamber and beyond.

They spent the entire day in their chambers together, both desperately needing the time together after the crush of visitors over the past fortnight. Darcy was amply content to embrace settling into the long winter at Pemberley without too many social or business pressures. The occasional dinner party or hunt or dance or afternoon at billiards would be interspersed with the necessary forays to the mills or stables or tenant farms, but winter in Derbyshire effectively cast a stasis over all occupations.

In the past, Darcy had heartily succumbed to the season for the afforded joy of hours spent reading in the library, long rides, catching up on delayed projects, and blessed solitude. This year he would have all that with the added favor of sharing it with his wife, not to mention the pleasure of lazy hours in their bedroom.

Despite his newfound delight in showing off his wife at social events, Darcy was primarily a creature craving privacy. His shyness and natural tendency toward reserve would always be a part of his character, no matter the emancipation of his soul. Lizzy, although not the slightest bit shy or reticent, did cherish peace and quiet and solitary pursuits. The young lovers discovered that they were strikingly akin in more ways than they had imagined.

Darcy truly thought his wife would be fit to rip her hair out after a month of forced imprisonment inside Pemberley’s vast, echoing corridors, and Lizzy honestly thought he would tire of her constant presence in his sanctuaries. They were both astoundingly in error. By the time the spring thaw came, necessitating
Darcy’s increased excursions to the farms and Lizzy’s spurred enthusiasm for outdoor activities, they would be so devoted and enslaved to each other that the separations would be agony. Yet for now, they settled in to the peace and leisure of the winter with relish.

“Fitzwilliam, I have a request.”

It was mid-January and the Darcys were breakfasting in their sitting room as they always did, except for Sundays before church when they broke fast with Georgiana. Darcy looked up from the newspaper into the serious face of his wife. He smiled. “Ah, ‘Fitzwilliam’ is it? I suppose that dictates the necessity for my undivided attention.”

Lizzy blushed, lowered her eyes for a moment, and then met his amused stare. “I have been thinking…”

“Very dangerous, that is,” he interrupted with a grin.

“Stop that and listen!” she chastised, trying not to laugh. “I would like to learn how to drive a curricle.” She was firm and met his surprised face with lifted chin. “Can you teach me, love?”

He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it when he realized he could not think what to say, so startled was he at her request. Lizzy scooted to the edge of her chair and leaned toward him in her enthusiasm. “I have expressed to you my desire to begin volunteering weekly at the orphanage; I have received several invitations to tea with the ladies, and upon occasion I need to shop in the village, so I deduce that being able to freely travel without having to disturb a groom would be advantageous. Additionally, it would give you something to do, beloved. You are becoming entirely too lazy.” She smiled at him winsomely.

Darcy lifted one brow. “That accusation I shall not deign to repudiate. Seriously, Elizabeth, your logic is flawed. It is the duty of the grooms and footmen to escort you and ensure your protection. However, that is not my main concern.” He took her hands. “My love, handling a curricle is not as easy as it may appear. Yet, even that is not as much an issue to me, as I know you are bright and competent. It is the horses. They are unpredictable and you are inexperienced and afraid of them.”

“I have considered all of this. You can ensure that the horses employed are the most placid. I will never be in any rush to get anywhere; therefore,
they need not be spirited. I shall travel no further than Lambton or to visit Harriet or Marilyn. You would be teaching me, and I will submit to your timetable. I do not anticipate mastering the curricle swiftly and am not foolish enough to dash pell-mell into an enterprise that has the potential of danger attached.”

Darcy stood up and walked to the window, staring out at the murky sky. Lizzy sat silently. She had noted early in their engagement that this was what he did when ruminating on a perplexing matter. Often he would abruptly rise from his desk, usually mumbling unintelligibly under his breath, fingers fidgeting, and stare blankly out a window until the resolution emerged. Usually she found it humorous to observe how his visage would brusquely transform from glowering and plagued to animated and determined as he vigorously strode back to his chair. Today, the overall effect was not as threatening as he rigidly stood there in his robe and nothing else with hair tousled and absently toying with his sash. Nonetheless, Lizzy knew him well enough to understand his turmoil.

“In addition, dearest, I do have some experience driving a carriage. My father taught me the basics when I was young and would on occasion let me take the reins. As for the horses,” she rose and approached his back until she was just behind him, “I have been thinking about that, too. One thing that horrible man Orman said did resonate.”

Darcy twitched when she mentioned the Marquis’s name and turned to peer at his wife. She continued, “I
am
a Darcy, and it is not proper that I should know so little about horses nor be afraid of them. I reason that this endeavor will acquaint me with horses in a general way and then you can teach me to ride.”

Darcy was shaking his head slowly. “Elizabeth, I do not care if you ride or despise horses. It matters naught to me. I would never wish for you to attempt an employment that may cause you pain or anxiety.”

“William, it matters to me. This is something I need to do, for the reasons I have told you and more.” She stood before him now, running her hands along the edge of his robe as she met his eyes. “I want to see all of Pemberley, and you stated much of it is inaccessible except by horseback. I do not suspect I shall ever be an accomplished horsewoman, and I would appreciate it if you avoid assigning me Parsifal’s sister or baby brother.” She laughed and he smiled. “Yet, this is a challenge I desire to conquer and I can only triumph with your help.”

Thus it was that for the subsequent month or so, the Darcys could be found in the courtyard on clear days with the smallest and sturdiest curricle in the
carriage house and two of the six horses deemed by Darcy and Mr. Thurber, the head groomsman, as the most steadfast, unflappable, and manageable. Darcy and Mr. Thurber were both impressed at Lizzy’s bullheaded stubbornness and inexhaustible application. Within days she could competently navigate up and down the lengthy avenue before Pemberley. Darcy hovered close by on horseback as he trailed her about, prepared to physically launch himself onto the out-of-control vehicle if necessary; however, that never occurred.

The unpredictable weather did not allow for consistent application to Lizzy’s lessons, but by the end of January, Darcy deemed her adequate. Once Darcy and Mr. Thurber jointly declared Lizzy competent, Darcy graduated to teaching her how to handle a phaeton. The phaeton, although larger than a curricle, was still rather small. Darcy made it abundantly clear to his wife and to the entire stable staff that Mrs. Darcy was never to be allowed to commandeer a phaeton on her own; however, he reasoned that if she could adequately drive the larger vehicle, then a curricle should offer few challenges.

For the following two weeks, between sporadic storms, Lizzy devoted her energy to conquering the unwieldy carriage as well as her own rising temper. Darcy was the soul of patience; however, he was also exorbitantly comprehensive and privately harbored continued feelings of unease at the whole concept of her driving out, alone, with a curricle.