One Day in May
Posted on May 7, 2009
Darcy woke late surprised by the height of the sun. He reached over to nudge his wife and found the linens cold and empty. Sitting upright, he glanced around the room for her."Elizabeth?"
The room remained quiet.
He assumed she had risen and begun the day, although he had never slept later than she did. This morning, after six months of marriage, was the first time. He mused aloud that the honeymoon was over and they had reached the old married state. He made a mental note--May 1, awoke alone. Elizabeth must be punished. He snickered to himself.
A sudden rush of thoughts overcame him. He rose from the bed and rang for his man. "I wish to dress in riding clothes this morning."
Darcy went about the usual business of beginning the day and soon he had mounted his horse and sped off down the familiar grounds of Pemberley. The faster the stallion galloped, the less jumbled were his thoughts. He plotted a revenge, all in good fun, against his wife. She would never wish for him to awake alone in bed again.
He entered the dining room and found his lovely wife sipping coffee. He spied the devilish twinkle in her eyes but before he could ask her about it, she rose from the table. "Where are you going?"
"I have important business that must not be delayed." Elizabeth laughed. "Is that not your usual excuse?"
"Yes, my dear, but--"
"Good day, sir. I must leave now." She whisked out of the room before he could finish his sentence.
Darcy stared at the empty doorway, his jaw clinched. "She must be punished." He laughed and rushed through his breakfast. He squirreled away in his study for the rest of the morning, refusing admittance to anyone and after an hour requested that Mrs. Darcy be found and brought there.
He listened closely for footsteps near his door and, when they did not come, he returned to his wife's bedchambers to investigate.
Instead of his wife he found a riddle addressed to him. It read:
One, two, three, four
Something is hidden out the door
Five, six, seven eight
Look for a clue under a plate.
Which one will you choose?
Will I win or will you lose?
Do not pick the wrong one,
Or you will have no more fun
Darcy laughed as he rushed to the dining room. The entire table had been set for dinner for twelve. Reading the riddle again, he realized he had only one attempt.
"Mr. Darcy." The servant bowed. His eyes sparkled with merriment. "Only one, sir. Chose wisely for there are no second chances."
He walked around the table inspecting each plate with intensity. He stopped at his plate, about to reach for it when out of the corner of his eye he noticed the servant's lift his brows and then lower them quickly.
"Hm. Not this one I suppose," Darcy said, and then smiled when the servant's shoulders relaxed. He moved to stand behind her chair when all of a sudden the plate across the table appeared to be resting on a piece of paper. He hurried to it, lifted it and laughed. "I win!" He turned to the servant. "Tell the mistress. I win."
"Read the note, sir." The servant smiled widely.
You noticed the paper, I presume.
Now find a rose hidden in a room
Look down the hall and up the stairs
For a place made perfect for pairs
Do not think it is private for some
Hurry, my husband, the time has come
To show your talent hidden from the rest
You know what it is that you do best
Darcy read the riddle several times and when he turned the letter over he discerned a map of sorts had been drawn on it. In the center of it was a part of a star and after careful study, he realized this was only one fourth of a map. He turned the first riddle over and there was another fourth of the map.
"Apparently there are two more riddles to go." Darcy put the pieces of the map together.
The servant smiled. "Yes, sir."
Darcy left the dining room and sped up the stairs, taking two or three steps at a time. He hurried to the music room. "Talent indeed." He rushed to the violin case, opened it and pulled out the rose. "Too easy, my love." But he noticed the note was not to be found with the rose, he wondered what he had missed. Pulling out the riddle again he studied each word and each phrase. After a while, his eyes lit up and he ran to the pianoforte. There on the keys was the riddle. "Yes, perfect for pairs. A duet, my dear. Very clever."
He read the next riddle,
Did you not wonder, my love, so early in spring
Where I found the rose that my riddle did bring
For it is there you will see
Another clue and map number three
You will need to move the dirt in the pot
To find the buried treasure spot
You have only a quarter of an hour
To find the treasure under the flower
Racing to the conservatory, he nearly tripped as the servants whispered at his haste. The word had spread about the house of the master running and racing from room to room with a smile upon his face. No one had been accustomed to the master in such a state, but they did know who to charge with the change--Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy.
Six months ago she arrived, a sweet but teasing lady. She charmed her way into the hearts of all the old men first. They would not allow a single word to be spoken about her unless it was of admiration. Gossip was brought to an end the moment one of the old guard entered the room. Soon the talk by everyone was of her loving manner with the master. Everyone appreciated her ability to enliven the Mr. Darcy, although it was not until today did they witness the wide smile and childlike joy he showed as he raced throughout the house.
A servant opened the door to the conservatory the moment the master arrived. "Good luck, sir."
Darcy nodded, cast his eyes in the direction of the potted flowers and sighed deeply. He cursed the number of pots in the room.
The gardener met him at the door, handing him a trowel. "I have been sworn to secrecy. I dare not betray the mistress. She is too beautiful to betray."
"I do not wish it. Will you accompany me to make sure I do not kill the plants."
"Sir, I will repair any damage. Good luck. I am here to keep the time."
"Fifteen minutes is all I have?"
The gardener bowed.
Darcy faced the rows of flowers. He doubted the treasure would be buried under the rose bushes. He walked up and down the aisles, inspecting each pot for fresh soil. All the pots had received a new layer of dirt.
"Ten minutes, sir. You have ten minutes left." The gardener called out. Servants peeked in the conservatory and whispered to others what the master was doing. A communication line was established that would rival the British Army. Word of the master digging in the lilac pots spread fast and the laughter began. They all knew the correct flower and this was not it. Next he moved to the violets and furiously pulled them up by the roots.
"Five minutes, sir."
"Damn." Darcy muttered. He stood with his hands on his hips staring at the different types of flowers trying to imagine which one was favored by his wife. If he had to tear up every plant he would do so but the time frame would not be met.
He closed his eyes and inhaled the fragrances. "Ah ha!" He ran to the lavender pots. There were thirty of them since his wife preferred lavender as her own perfume. He stuck his fingers in the soil in the first one and then moved to the next.
The murmurs grew louder as more servants arrived and crowded the doorway.
Darcy explored several more pots. There were twenty left. "Not enough time."
"One minute left, sir." The gardener yelled out. In unison the servants held their breath. Silence filled the room while Darcy skipped to the next to last pot. He reached in and found the note.
"Here it is, I found it."
Cheers rang out. The time had not elapsed. The game was still on.
Darcy inspected the back of the riddle first. He recognized the location of the star and felt a sense of relief that he had not lost the game. It had been so close. He turned the note over and wondered why he was being sent to the kitchen.
Congratulations, my love. Now is when you need
to gather the things to help you succeed
Place all of them in a basket and I will agree
to give you what you desire of me
You must use your head to think it out
And when the answer comes to you, you must shout
And she that prepares our dinner
Will proclaim you the winner.
She will give you the rest
So do your best
For I await your tender hand
And will follow your command.
Here are the clues:
1. One sip of this will bathe the drooping spirits in delight beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise and taste.
2. An honest laborious Country-man, with these three things, will make a contented Meal with a roasted Onion.
3. "O! beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock this that it feeds on"
4. You cannot have this and eat it too.
5. A prisoner in her chamber--That's the tale.
Darcy read the clues, understanding that he had to go to the kitchen and fill a basket. The objects were the quotes.
The servants lined up along the hallways leading to the kitchen. Darcy smiled to them as his long strides took his quickly down the hallway. Once there, he found a basket, took a seat in the chair provided for him and read the clues again.
"One sip of this." Mrs. Wilcox, please place several bottles of her favorite wine in the basket. Am I correct?"
"Yes sir, but you must say who wrote it."
"Too easy. John Milton."
The cook clapped her hands. "Very good sir." Several of the kitchen helpers peeked in the kitchen. Darcy waved them in.
Darcy read the next clue aloud. "An honest laborious Country-man, with these three things, will make a contented Meal with a roasted Onion."
The only sounds heard were more servants entering the kitchen and doorway. Whispers escalated as the master furrowed his brow as he repeated the clue.
"Bread, Salt and Parsley. But I cannot recall who wrote it." He rose from the chair and broke off a piece of bread. "Can I come back to this one, Mrs. Wilcox. I need time to think."
She nodded. "The mistress gave me no rule for the order you needed to do it in. Go ahead, think on it."
Darcy smiled, studied the next quote and then read it aloud. "O! beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock this that it feeds on."
The room hushed.
"That cuckold lives in bliss,
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger:
But O, what damnèd minutes tells he o'er
Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!
Mrs. Wilcox, place some meat in the basket. Shakespeare is the author and the work is Othello, Act Three, Scene Three.
Darcy bowed to the applause rippling through the room. He read the next clue. "You cannot have this and eat it too. Cake! An old proverb."
"Yes, Mr. Darcy. I have her favorite cake too. I made it special when she told me about her game."
"Very good. Now the next clue. A prisoner in her chamber--That's the tale!" Darcy scanned the kitchen trying to figure out what this clue has to do with food. Darcy returned to his seat, asking for a cup of tea. As he sipped the hot liquid his eyes rested on the cook's papers.
"Mrs. Wilcox, I believe this clue is not for food but for something to read. Am I correct?"
"Yes sir." Her smile stretched across her face. She waited as all the eyes in the room trained on their master. "You can do it, sir."
Darcy nodded. "The Kiss, by Stephen Clarke. I have a copy in the library." He rose to get it when Mrs. Wilcox blocked his path.
"No sir. She left it here for you. She reached up behind the flour and pulled out the copy. She figured you'd get this one, sir. Now you still have to come up the writer of the second clue." She refilled his tea cup. "John, please put this in the basket." She winked at the old servant.
"Ah." Darcy's head jerked up. "Mrs. Wilcox. Shame on you. John Evelyn is the author."
Ignoring her master's glare, she nodded and everyone clapped and whistled. Their master had done it.
They filled the basket with wine, bread, salt, parsley, meat, cake and the play. Mrs. Wilcox handed him the final section of the map. As he studied it, Darcy revealed a toothy grin and the servants made way as he rushed towards the stable. Once there, he discovered the stable hands had their gig ready.
"You do know where to go, sir."
"Yes, I most certainly do. Thank you." He held up the pieces of the map. He climbed in, placed the basket on the seat, flicked the reins and flew down the road. He knew exactly where she was waiting. He had taken her there the day after they had arrived in Pemberley as man and wife. Their visit was brief due to the cold and he had promised to return in the spring. She had not forgotten. When he arrived at the pond, she was sitting quietly, reading a book.
She jumped up, smoothed her gown and met him with a kiss. "I love you, Fitzwilliam. Did you have a pleasant afternoon?"
He dropped the basket, and then drew her close, joining her lips with his. His kiss deepened as they embraced each other. He broke the kiss and pulled her down on the blanket. "My entire staff enjoyed this afternoon , my dear. They watched their master run foolishly though the house, digging up plants and all. But, yes. I had an almost perfect time."
"Almost?"
"You were not there with me." He lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. "I adore you, Mrs. Darcy."
The two spent the afternoon and early evening drinking the wine, munching on the bread, meat and cake and reading the play. Of course, that was in between their own special brand of merriment.
the end