Love Then Begins (16 page)

“Senses,” she echoed already lost in them again, “no sense, just senses . . . ”

“
B
UT WHY MUST
I
WRITE
everything in so many places? I’ve written here,” the Mistress of Pemberley stabbed her finger on the ledger entry, smudging the ink in the process, “that I spent 10£ on cheese, paid out to Mr Tuttle, in my merchant account. Why must I write it again here,” she stabbed irritably again, “here, and
here
!”

Holly’s head was beginning to ache. “Whatever is added in one place must be subtracted from another. If you add 10£ for cheese to your merchant account, you must subtract it from your cash monies—otherwise, you will never know how much cash you still have, and while you’re here and recording, you might as well list it in your grocery expenses,
and
, if you like, since this purchase was made in preparation for your Candlemas entertainment, you might want to start a separate page for those expenses as well—”

“And I suppose a ledger accounting for breaths inhaled, making certain they balance with breaths exhaled, would not be amiss either? Oh, Holly! All these numbers! I think I will go mad!”

“Don’t be silly, Eliza. It’s a small price to pay for the right to take walks on these beautiful grounds.
Your
beautiful grounds.” Elizabeth smiled, but the smile faded as Holly’s face grew thoughtful again. She pulled another large book close, “You ought to, while you’re recording your purchases, bring the total over here as well. If you post as you go on your balance sheet, it will already be there when it’s time to reconcile your accounts at the end of the week

“Week? I thought you said I could do it weekly
or
monthly! I was hoping for monthly.”

“Elizabeth, Pemberley is a huge estate . . . I think you had better do both. But, if you keep up and nothing gets out of hand, your quarterly accounts should be a matter of moving over a few totals and adding or subtracting as necessary. It is the mistakes you don’t catch that multiply and cause trouble.”

“And you will still be here on Lady Day to help me through that, won’t you?” Elizabeth teased, though Holly could tell her words were not entirely devoid of wishful thinking. She sighed herself, on Lady Day she supposed, she would have her own accounts to present.

“I think not,” she smiled, a bit wistful herself, “but I think you will do fine. If not, you will write.”

“You will at least make me a list before you go?”

Holly’s eyes had wandered to the window, where the gentlemen could be seen returning from a day of sport. “Of course,” she said absently, while standing up and brushing the creases from her gown.

Watching them walking toward the house, she saw them stop, saw Lord Baugham point toward something in the distance, saw Mr Darcy follow his gaze and begin to speak and gesture animatedly, then both turn and walk off in the new direction, leaving the servants to carry their guns and gear back to the house alone.

“I suppose it is wrong of me to feel slightly put out over how much he enjoys your husband’s company,” Holly said as she sat back down again. “He must have been missing male companionship and outdoor sports.”

“Is that so?” Elizabeth gave her a raised eyebrow and a look that made Holly blush. “Did you really spend all your time secluded together at Clyne?”

“Well, yes,” Holly smiled. “It
was
our honeymoon . . . ”

Elizabeth dropped her pen and leaned back in the chair. “That sounds heavenly,” she said wistfully.

“Oh Elizabeth!” Holly cried. “Has your entire honeymoon been like
this?
Endless visitors and interruptions?”

“Very nearly. We did have five lovely days in London, and then two very nice days of travelling—”

“I would not count travelling days as ‘nice’ by any means,” Holly scoffed. “His lordship and I nearly snapped each others’ heads off before we decided on our detour, but by then our honeymoon was effectively over anyway. If we were not here with you, we would be in Cheshire.” She gave her cousin a sad smile. “I am very glad we are here with you.”

“And you will stay, if not till Lady Day, at least until Candlemas, won’t you? Since you have been privy to all my failings, I should at least want to give you the opportunity to witness a small success of mine.”

“Of course, and I hope you will let me help you in any way I can.”

“You can be sure of that,” Elizabeth smiled. “But, for now, what do you say we put these books away, get into our coats and find out what intriguing sight has kept the gentlemen out of doors so much longer than usual? Before someone else comes to call.”

“
I
DON’T KNOW HOW YOU
can stand it!”

Mr Darcy broke out into a most uncharacteristic laugh that quickly died down as he got hold of his amusement but continued in a broad and smug smile.

“It is who I am! And regardless of how much you delight in this role as the ‘wicked baron’ and ‘indifferent landlord’ you don’t fool me for a minute.”

Baugham poked at the frozen stumps of straw sticking up at the edge of the frozen pond. “This will never hold all those people cramming themselves into one sleigh.”

“It will hold,” Mr Darcy said calmly. “And more to the point, I know you will be right here enjoying yourself, gregariously entertaining old ladies and lifting little children in and out of the sledge.”

“Ah, but that is because they’re your tenants, not mine!”

A small understanding smile was passed between them followed by silence.

“How long are you staying?” Mr Darcy asked fixing his gaze on the hazy horizon.

To someone with a lesser understanding of Mr Darcy’s character, the question would have seemed more than a little ungracious. To Lord Baugham, however, it was proof of the fact that his friend had been pondering his sudden appearance at such a surprising moment and had some concerns, none of them selfish.

“I thought, perhaps . . . spring? But then again, Derbyshire summers are exceptionally pleasant too.”

“I won’t allow that, you know,” Darcy said gently.

“I do know,” his lordship replied, “nor would I ask it. Not truly.”

“I know.”

A cold breeze whistled through the bare branches, and Mr Darcy’s words hung in the air until the wind carried another sound to their ears. Footsteps in the snow, soft voices and laughter, and then, shouts.

“There you are!” Mrs Darcy called out.

They turned to see their wives tramping toward them, hand in hand, noses pink with the cold and their frozen breath swirling around them in a fog.

Baugham saw his wife’s eyes light up as she noticed their position.

“Oh! Is it frozen?”

“So Mr Darcy says,” he smiled, “although I have my serious doubts.”

“Can we go out on it?”

Mr Darcy hitched up an amused eyebrow as his friend took one long stride out onto the ice and tapped it confidently with his cane.

“Worth a try, I should think!”

There was a delighted giggle from Lady Baugham as she reached through the scraggy and wilted sticks of straw that only just now had induced such doubt in her husband and took Lord Baugham’s outstretched hand. He pulled her carefully onto the ice and she slid a few steps before she found her balance and glided right into the shelter of his arm.

“Wonderful! Oh! Don’t let me fall!”

They did a little unstable jostling for the perfect balance on the uneven icy surface amongst heavy skirts and entangling great coats and as Darcy watched them he felt his arm being taken by his wife and her sidling up to him in her own smug observation of the scene before them.

“And do you see it now, Mr Darcy?” she said in her laughingly teasing voice.

He gave her a smile before he went back to the spectacle before him where Lady Baugham’s request was obviously in grave danger of being completely ignored in his lordship’s ambitions to waltz her around as if they were really wearing skates and not boots.

“I do,” he said calmly. “You’re very clever, Mrs Darcy.”

“Thank you, Mr Darcy,” she said, pleased and holding onto his arm.

There his friend was, Darcy reflected, happily leading his wife out onto something he had expressed such reservations over just a moment before. However foolish it might in reality be, it was nonetheless a comfort in view of their recent exchange. If Baugham could take his wife out on thin ice with such confidence and eagerness, it was but a small step for him to take her to Cumbermere and perform the same miracle. There was nothing to worry about. If he takes her there, it is love—it certainly must be—not just convenience, resignation or passion.

“And I also think you are very brave,” Mr Darcy continued and offered his arm to his wife to take her out on the ice, too.

“Or very foolish!” she laughed.

“No,” Mr Darcy said and slipped his hand into hers before pulling her with him, “but certainly very trusting and very . . . light!”

Mrs Darcy gave a gasp of mock indignation but let him take her out all the same.

“Come Darcy!” His lordship shouted when they ventured onto the surface of the pond. “You were right, the ice is fine!” He gestured wildly, nearly upsetting his newfound balance. His wife reached out for him and several minutes of slipping, shrieking, laughing and clutching followed.

“I think we’ll stay right here,” Darcy smiled, holding Elizabeth’s arm solidly, “near the edge.”

“What? The ice is strong enough to hold tenants and uninvited guests, but not you?”

“Me, perhaps,” he paused, looking at his wife tenderly, “but I’m not willing to risk anything more precious than that.”

Something in her face made him pause. “Are you disappointed, dear? Do you wish to go out further?”

“If it can hold them, surely it can hold—” she began, but her attention was diverted by something at her feet. “What in the world?” She knelt down and brushed away the powdery remnants of snow.

Through the thick, smoky ice, the perfect heart-shaped leaf of a water lily could be seen, tilting slightly towards the dark muddy depth below it. Mr Darcy leaned over to take a closer look himself.

“How pretty!” his wife said and touched the smooth, transparent surface with her fingers. “It’s perfect!”

She traced the contours and her husband rubbed the surface around it as if to smooth out the creases in the layers of the ice.

“Elizabeth!”

Holly was holding onto her husband’s arms with both of her hands but craning her neck. Mrs Darcy waved at her.

“Oh, Holly, come have a look!”

Their lordships hurried along and Holly threw herself down beside her cousin on her hands and knees.

“Oh,” she said when she spotted the leaf, “how magical!”

Both husbands were now down on their knees beside them, inspecting the wonder of summer caught in suspension below them. They found a few other leaves as well, caught in the ice, but none of them so perfectly positioned close to the surface and brilliant in their colours as this one.

“Can you imagine,” Elizabeth breathed, “come Candlemas we’ll have torches burning around this pond and the light of the fire will light up this magical scene. Can you imagine how splendid it will be?”

The women glanced across the object of their studious admiration and a smile passed between them.

“I’m so looking forward to it,” Holly said. “It will be so grand and so wonderful for you.”

Elizabeth smiled.

“Bonfire,” his lordship muttered. “You can manage a decent bonfire, can’t you, Darcy, just in case the womenfolk find themselves back down here mesmerised by this sight again?”

“We never had a bonfire,” Darcy said slowly, “people tend to crowd indoors . . . ”

“What? And miss such a spectacle as this?” Baugham directed his friend a raised eyebrow and managed to attract his friend’s attention to the crouching positions of the admiring wives beside them.

Darcy shook his head but smiled. “Perhaps you are right,” he said. “In fact, in honour of the great love and affection my wife shows for the outdoors at the most surprising moments, a bonfire would be just perfect.”

“Perfect,” sighed Mrs Darcy and brushed more of the invisible snow away.

“
T
HIS, MY LOVE, IS AN
ideal existence. “

It was indeed, Holly agreed. Outside the windows, the view of the open fields was obscured by a flurry of icy snow, forcing even the most hardened walkers, riders and hunters to break from their customary early morning regimes. Instead, a long morning in bed turned into a breakfast upstairs after the service in the parlour below came and went and day never really broke at all. The fire in the hearth was watched by Lord and Lady Baugham from the comfort of the generous sofa and it was a very good thing it heartily crackled away, for neither of them had got any further in their dressing than their morning gowns.

“The only thing I could possibly complain about,” his lordship lazily said, burying his nose between the lacy ruffles of his wife’s collar, instinctively finding the warm skin of her neck and resting his lips there before he went on, “is the impossibility of enjoying your charms to the fullest in any other room but this, although since it is a very large room I shan’t complain after all.”