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Authors: Linda Beutler

Longbourn to London (29 page)

BOOK: Longbourn to London
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Darcy chuckled indulgently. “Your hair is perfect, there is no bed in the room, and there is no other evidence. A keen observer may detect a glimmer of new wisdom in your eyes, but I do not intend to let anyone near you. Whatever is suspected, nothing can be proved. Let us ignore any speculations.”

“Is this the fastidious, grim-visaged, sanctimonious Mr. Darcy?”

“No. This is the jubilant, impulsive, newly married Mr. Darcy.” He bowed over her hand, turning it to kiss her palm. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Darcy. I look forward to knowing you better.”

***

Darcy handed Elizabeth into the carriage. They positioned the hamper of food between their feet. Elizabeth wrapped the lap robe around her legs and removed her shoes. She picked up her father’s letter. “We have not read all of it.”

“Elizabeth, are you not hungry?” Darcy asked. “You ate little earlier.”

“I am famished, sir! Are you not?” She held the letter with one hand and rummaged through the offerings with another. “Father writes, ‘I expect neither of you ate sufficiently, if at all, at your breakfast. Enclosed I believe you will find some of your favourite foods, and I hope they will sustain you through your journey, as once you reach London, you may again find yourselves too agitated to eat properly. Nothing worthwhile is ever accomplished on an empty stomach.’” Darcy and Elizabeth looked at each other like naughty children and laughed. “‘There is a cold roast pheasant, which I know both of you prefer to chicken, and there is a cask of fresh cider for Lizzy. This reminds me to let you know, Mr. Darcy, that Lizzy has been known to partake of turned cider, an event that provided no little amusement when she was twelve years of age and about which I shall tell you at some later time.’ Oh! I must read ahead with some censorship, or you will know all the family secrets!” She laughed again as Darcy snatched the letter from her hand.

He continued reading, after swallowing a bite of pheasant and crusty bread. “This becomes more interesting! ‘There is cheddar for Lizzy, and our cook makes a fine loaf of bread with wheat from our fields. You will find late apples from the Lucases’ trees, which I hope have not gone mealy, but if they have, Lizzy will enjoy feeding them to the horses when next you stop. You cannot use it now, but there is a canister of tea, the kind Lizzy prefers, provided to the family by the Gardiners. You might be warned, Mr. Darcy: Lizzy likes her tea the way most of us like our coffee—black and thick as tar with nothing added. Please warn your kitchen staff thereof. Lastly, Mr. Darcy, do not read this next to Lizzy’—Well I cannot stop now; you will hear it, Elizabeth—‘you will find a half dozen jars of Lizzy’s favourite strawberry jam. Hide it if you can and dole it out to her only when she has been very well behaved or has been exceedingly clever in company.’”

Elizabeth was laughing too enthusiastically to eat.

Darcy continued, “‘Our cook will not reveal the recipe of this jam, but it does have a magical effect upon our Lizzy and makes her sweet, tractable, and eager to please if given in small amounts. Perhaps one of your cooks at Pemberley can assay the contents and reproduce it for you, but in the meantime, do not leave her alone with it or she will dose herself insensible.’”

They were laughing loudly enough to cause the driver and footman to look at each other with raised brows. “Never heard the master laugh like
that
a’fore,” Hodges muttered to Sam, shaking his head at the wonder of the sound.

“‘If your Pemberley staff do unlock the secret, instruct them never to make as much of it as Lizzy will order, as you do not want her tending to fat. I assure you, this jam is her one weakness…’” Darcy regarded his new wife with a raised eyebrow and gazed fondly at her bosom. “Oh, I think I may have discovered another.”

“How sad to learn the two most beloved men in my life are conspiring against me.” Elizabeth caught the corner of her lower lip to suppress a smile.

“Let me see… oh yes, ‘…this jam is her one weakness, but remember, sir, with great knowledge comes great responsibility. With love and prayers for a safe journey, T. Bennet.’ This is unprecedented, Elizabeth; I do not know a father who loves a daughter more.” He leaned across the food spread on the seat between them and kissed her. “Perhaps you will give me a few daughters?”

“To obtain that jam, sir, I shall give you as many sons or daughters as you wish.”

“There is a postscript to me. Are you willing to hear it?”

“Surely even a coach as large as this is too small for you to keep it from me until London,” she threatened with a chuckle.

“I expected as much. The postscript reads, ‘Mr. Darcy, when you call Lizzy by her full Christian name, it is said with such regard and respect that I forget of whom you are speaking. We shall know you are truly part of the family when you start calling her “Lizzy.” —TB.’”

Their eyes met, and Elizabeth, flushed and smiling, looked down. “Oh, my… Poor Papa. Fitzwilliam, I hope he never hears you call me ‘Lizzy’ the way you do. It would be mortifying to have my own father know what we are doing.”

Darcy felt no response was necessary but to lift her chin and kiss her. “Lizzy,” was all he said when his tongue had tasted her lips.

After finishing their repast and stowing the remains in the hamper, they pushed it aside and wrapped themselves in the lap robe again. It was so cold that, even in the sun, the frost seemed to persist, but they were warm against the icy landscapes, and soon were sleepy. Fed and at last easy with each other, they napped fitfully until the wheels of the carriage, gaining the cobbles of outer London, woke them with their changing rhythm.

Darcy awoke with his lips on Elizabeth’s head and began kissing her hair until she smiled. “Although the beginning might be said to have been wanting, altogether I think our first journey as married people has been much more successful than not,” she said as if she had been giving the matter no little consideration.

He kissed her mouth slowly. When the kiss ended, he glanced outside. “We are perhaps half an hour from Darcy House, Mrs. Darcy. The two front riders will have left us by now to alert Mrs. Chawton.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath, feeling a little nervous.

Darcy noticed her discomfort. “We shall have a few lovely, lazy days here, Elizabeth. We shall make no visits and accept no callers, and we shall do nothing we do not both agree to do. When we are ready to travel to Pemberley, we shall go.” He looked into her eyes. “My dearest Elizabeth.”

They sat more upright, and Darcy could sense a heightened level of tension in his bride. “We shall meet the staff, and Mrs. Chawton will join us to see the master suite. I have chosen a maid for you from amongst the existing staff, but if she does not suit you, we can easily make a change. She is bright enough, and has been part of the London staff for four years. I have ordered a simple meal, and perhaps you might play and sing for me, or we might tour the house…”

Elizabeth thought what Darcy avoided saying.
And at some point we will retire to the same bed.
They travelled in silence.

Darcy looked out the window. “Only a few streets away.”

Elizabeth shook the lap robe, producing only one shoe. “Oh heavens, where is the other slipper? Did we pack it with the food?” She made an uncharacteristically nervous giggle.

Darcy began searching with her, folding the lap robe. “You were wearing it when we left the inn?”

She laughed. “I would have noticed had I not!”

Darcy laughed, too. “Ladies lose gloves, Elizabeth, not shoes…”

She picked up his hat on the gentleman’s bench. “Hmm, no…”

“My new bride will not exit this coach half barefoot. I shall carry you with my hat on your foot if I have to.” He chuckled.

“Check your pockets,” she suggested, relieved he thought their present plight amusing.

The coach slowed as it approached Darcy House. The staff waited outside at the entry under the portico, and a footman stepped forward to open the carriage door. Inside was muffled laughter. Finally, Darcy moved the hamper to discover Elizabeth’s second wedding slipper pinned against the far wall away from the door.

“Oh, thank God!” Darcy exited the coach, laughing.

“Merciful heavens, how silly! What will they think?” Elizabeth emerged, chuckling, to the amazement of the awaiting servants.

“Everyone, inside! It is far too cold for such ceremony.” Darcy beamed at them all, and motioning his arms as if to both herd and embrace them, moved the staff of Darcy House into the front hall.

Elizabeth bumped her bosom against his arm as she clasped his hand, caressing him for moral support.

He turned to her with a wide smile. “Mrs. Darcy?” He waved the way with his free arm, and in they went. He could not recall ever being happier.

Chapter 19

Welcome to Darcy House, Mrs. Darcy

“Time goes on crutches till love have all his rites.”
William Shakespeare
Much Ado about Nothing

Mr. and Mrs. Darcy stopped before a half circle of servants in the elegant front hall of Darcy house. There was a glass skylight, and the house faced due west, so the last rays of the winter sun lit the assemblage, adding to the glow of wall sconces lit when the approach of the carriage was announced. For Darcy, it was as if his bride brought the light and cheer with her as she entered the house for the first time.

Servants stepped forward to spirit away their outer clothing, and Darcy began introducing Elizabeth to the staff. To spare her any feeling of intimidation, he requested only the household maids and footmen be present. The gardeners, stable hands, cooks, and scullery maids could wait for another day. The last four servants were the most important: Mrs. Chawton, the housekeeper; Mr. Lefroy, the butler; Darcy’s valet, Murray; and Sarah, who had been selected as Elizabeth’s maid for the week.

“Elizabeth, Mrs. Chawton and Sarah will join us as we tour our new rooms. Then there will be a few minutes for you to revive yourself before we have a light dinner. This is correct, Mrs. Chawton?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Chawton agreed as they started up the stairs. “The cook has prepared a menu that can be kept waiting if Mrs. Darcy would like to rest, have a bath, or change clothes. We are here for your comfort, Mrs. Darcy.”

Mrs. Chawton did not understand why the new Mrs. Darcy flushed pink at the suggestion of comfort. She put it down to bridal nerves.

***

On the second floor, they turned to the left. “This entire wing is ours, Elizabeth,” Darcy began, leading the way. “These were my parents’ rooms. I have not moved into them until now, so they are almost as new to me as they will be to you, although I was certainly in and out of them enough as a child.

“We have fresh mattresses, new bathtubs, and some of the furniture has been rearranged to suit me in the master’s bedroom, but you must tell Sarah about any modifications you desire quickly made to your rooms and Mrs. Chawton about any permanent changes. Please do not hesitate.”

He opened the first door, which was his dressing room. It was Sarah’s turn to blush as this was a room she had never entered. “From my dressing room to yours, at the end of this floor, we can walk from room to room through adjoining doors without going into the hall,” Darcy informed his bride.

Elizabeth’s head was a little addled.
Bathtubs…mattresses…adjoining rooms. This will be like living with Jane…only not at all.
She looked around the small masculine room with coat brushes laid on a side table, a full-length mirror, a rack holding a frock coat about to be brushed, and wardrobes and chests of drawers. Elizabeth noted the large, copper, claw-foot tub sitting in a tiled corner of the room
. My goodness, two could fit in there…oh…
She said nothing.

Darcy opened the door to his bedroom. It was a large chamber with a fire already blazing in the hearth. It was sparsely furnished with a large bed hung with curtains tied back at the posts. On both sides of the bed were simple tables, each with a single candlestick, and next to the tables were metal washstands, each with a basin of fresh water and towelling hanging from a metal ring.

Elizabeth studied the washstands.
Surely, these have been brought in, but why are they here?
She glanced at Darcy, who met her eyes expectantly as if he thought she might be forming a question. During the weighty pause, as Elizabeth noticed his always-immaculate appearance, she realised why the washstands were placed so near the bed. She closed her eyes, and drew in and emitted a deep sigh, aware all the while that her colour was again rising.

In front of the fire was a settee with a larger table to one side topped by a vase of roses. The scent was calming, and she was in need of it. Elizabeth touched them. “From Pemberley?” she asked.

“No, madam,” replied Mrs. Chawton. “Unless something particular is wanted from the Pemberley glasshouses, we buy flowers locally. All the flowers available from Pemberley were sent to your wedding.”

“They are beautiful.” Elizabeth turned to the heavy, tawny-brown velvet curtains and parted them to reveal glass doors opening onto a balcony.

Darcy opened the next door. “That balcony connects to doors in this room. We can go from bedroom to bedroom from outside, or inside, or from the hall.” He was watching her carefully, trying to measure her state of unease.
Is this overwhelming her? Is she going to blush forever?

BOOK: Longbourn to London
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