Chapter 1
Soon after their marriage and arrival at Pemberley, Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy determined the presentation of a ball to be in order. Darcy was anxious to solidify his wife's place in Derbyshire society; Lizzy looked forward to reestablishing Pemberley as a favored source of entertainment. Georgiana, who joined the couple in residence at Christmas, hoped to discreetly employ a few daring social skills assimilated from her new sister. Discussion was had as to the ball's timing. Acquaintances near and far favored the Darcys with invitations to numerous soirees and they did not wish to delay in reciprocating with one of their own.
One sunny, blustery February afternoon, Darcy and Lizzy were enjoying a stroll in the gardens surrounding the house. It had been raining for days on end, and Lizzy was desirous of fresh air and the solitary company of her handsome husband. Conversation turned to plans in progress for their ball.
"Dearest, I believe we must fix a date as soon as we may," Lizzy said. "The Warwicks are planning a do at Easter time and I have persuaded Jane and Charles to wrest themselves from Netherfield and visit when the weather turns. When do you believe repairs to the ballroom will conclude?"
"Mr. Hardy is likely to be in receipt of the materials in a week or two. He is a diligent sort; it should take no more than a few weeks hence to finish the job."
"It seems we will be ready at the same time as Mrs. Warwick. That will not do," she said, absently chewing her lower lip. Glancing about the garden, Lizzy continued, "I suppose it would be better to wait until later in the springtime. Is not the weather much improved by then?"
"Yes, of course." Looking around, he was suddenly struck by the obvious. Darcy nearly chortled aloud wondering why the notion alluded him thus far. "Do you know, the grounds are at their most beautiful in early June. The trees are bursting with bloom and the flowers simply magnificent...why, that is a most perfect time for our ball!"
"Yes, yes!" said Lizzy, catching his enthusiasm until she thought further. "But will not the beauty be lost upon our guests? It will be after dark when they arrive; surely the gardens will escape their notice. Unless of course there is such a splendid time to be had that their departure arises with the sun?" She looked at her husband with raised eyebrows.
"Mmm. Indeed, you are right. Nevertheless, the weather will be warmer and the roads a good deal better. June remains an ideal time for our festivities," he continued, but Lizzy was not listening. Having seen Pemberley's vast gardens as a tourist the previous summer, she could readily imagine their springtime resplendence and did not wish to waste the opportunity for sharing them. Gazing about, she stopped walking as an idea took shape in her mind. Darcy was a few steps ahead when he realized she was no longer beside him.
"What is it, my love?" he queried.
"What if..." she was silent, turning herself in a slow circle on the gravel path. "What if we were to do something different?"
"What is your meaning?" His face wore a bemused look.
"What if we were to give a ball which began before dark? In the afternoon--no, the evening, before sunset?" Her thoughts were now coming in a jumbled rush. "We could welcome the guests in the conservatory, set the musicians strolling about the gardens, serve tea and sandwiches for starters..."
"Elizabeth--"
"We could move to the west garden–you know, the terraced one--to admire the sunset! Oh, it will be extraordinary! The trees, the flowers set off by the glories of the setting sun! Afterward, everyone will come indoors to the ballroom as darkness falls and..."
"Elizabeth, my love–-"
"We can commence a traditional ball! Now let me see..."
"Dearest wife!" Darcy touched her arm to finally gain attention. "It is a lovely idea, has not been done in years, but you fail to consider the obvious."
"The obvious? Oh, yes, what if it rains?" Lizzy nodded her head in understanding. "Yes, that would be a problem." She paused, deep in thought. Darcy grinned at the sight of her countenance. She was determined to remedy the dilemma and have her way. Her creativity would breathe fresh air into stuffy Derbyshire society. Darcy resolved to support her in every possible manner. "Could we note alternate plans on the invitation? Say 'in the event of rain' no-- 'inclement weather--the ball will be held indoors at eight o'clock' and so forth?"
"Yes, that would work," Darcy replied, consulting his timepiece. "Our dinner likely awaits. Let us return to the house." Their discussion continued as they walked. Henceforth another obstacle occurred to Darcy, one unfortunately more formidable than the weather: Mr. Turner.
Elias Turner had been chief gardener and head groundsman since Fitzwilliam Darcy was a boy. Darcy could not recall another gentleman in the position. A gifted landscape architect, Turner was a dedicated planner and innovative in planting design. For years he managed a large staff quite capably. Pemberley's grounds were immaculate and the envy of neighbors. His recent work figured strongly in the estate's draw on its young master, calling him home often from his search for a wife. Darcy did not know much of the man. Mr. Wickham, his father's steward, then Mr. Coventry, his own, dealt more directly with him. Darcy never failed to capitalize on each opportunity to praise his work, yet theirs was merely a passing acquaintance, a business relationship. Until the past year, that is. It was then that Mr. Turner's wife died, leaving him with four children to raise. The man, overwhelmed with the responsibilities of his job, family and despondent over the loss of his wife, took to the drink. Hidden by his staff of loyal undergardeners, the drinking problem did not become known to Mr. Coventry until it had significantly progressed. Throughout the year he became hardly able to care for himself, let alone perform his job. The steward conferred with his master and an agreement was reached late last summer to temporarily relocate the two youngest children and serve Turner an ultimatum. He was required to clean himself up by spring or would be permanently removed from his position.
Lizzy chatted in an animated fashion as they entered the house, not noticing how preoccupied her husband had become until forced to repeat an enquiry. While the servants assisted in the removal of their outer garments, she whispered, "What is it, Will darling? Is something wrong?"
"No–um, I mean possibly, yes, there may be a problem. I shall tell you about it later when we are alone," he replied, squeezing her arm. Much as he trusted his servants, he knew how word traveled and did not wish to incite gossip.
Chapter 2
"You have kept me in suspense long enough, my dear. You must tell me of your concern," Lizzy said, softly kissing his cheek.
He related the history of the Turner affair and the dilemma it now presented. It was too soon to determine if the man was up to the considerable challenge of preparing the gardens for a June ball; according to their agreement, he had another month or so to prove himself. Outdoor work for the ball would now need to commence immediately. If Darcy went directly to the undergardeners, Turner would see himself undermined if in fact he was making good progress.
Lizzy found herself somewhat appalled at the entire situation. "What a thing to do! Remove his children? Threaten him? It seems so cold, so unfeeling...I do not know what to say!"
"My love, had you been there, you would have taken all his children. Two girls, each a very tender age, are now in the village with his sister. The boys are older, twins of three and ten, I believe. The lads desired to remain at home with their father. His decline was marked. I wish only that I had been informed of the situation sooner, before all this was necessary," Darcy replied, thinking,perhaps I would have taken notice were it not for preoccupation with my own problems of the heart. "I suppose another man would have merely fired him without concern for his personal affairs. But I cannot. He has long been in excellent service to Pemberley."
Elizabeth nodded but vexation prevailed despite the respect and trust held for her husband. "Have you not concern enough to see to his progress since our arrival?"
The question stoked his guilt. "No. I am ashamed to say it. I did not yet inquire. Coventry and I have been–"
"Shhh, my love. You have been quite busy." Lizzy could feel his distress and tightened her embrace. Indeed, since her homecoming she was amazed at the concentration and energy required to run the large estate. There were several pressing matters awaiting his attention after an absence of many months. Only so much business could be transacted via post.
Darcy said, "No, you are quite right. I have been remiss. There is but one solution. I shall call on Mr. Turner and assess his situation. If he has improved, I will lay before him your idea for the ball. Perhaps it will serve as an incentive."
"And if he has not improved? Will you turn him out?"
"No. Despite our ultimatum, I do not believe I am capable of that. I shall endeavor to find another means of assisting him. But what then of your ball?"
They decided that Mr. Harris, a younger, capable but less talented undergardener would be placed in charge of the project with Mr. Turner's knowledge. Darcy knew the results would not be the same but it seemed the best possible solution.
"There, you see we have resolved our predicament!" declared Lizzy as she rolled atop her husband. "Perhaps now we may turn our attention to other things?"
"I shall consider it," he said, kissing her. "Will you not show me what you have in mind?"
"Your wish is my command. Hmmm. We shall start here," she whispered, kissing him deeply while stroking his neck and chest.
"Henceforth, this?" he said, caressing her.
"I believe at some point we shall progress to involving...this."
"Yes, madam. A most prudent plan."
Chapter 3
The couple was breakfasting alone in their bedchamber a few days later when Darcy recounted his visit with Mr. Turner. The man was not much improved since the summer. His sons were now too in care of his sister. Turner was disheveled, alone–and angry. The smell of alcohol seeped from his skin. Darcy could scarcely believe this was the proud, reliable, creative genius who worked Pemberley's landscape with such care these twenty years. The visit started badly and deteriorated. Turner denied there was a problem, insisting he would be ready to work come March when the season usually started. Darcy told him of their prospective plans for the ball but the news was taken more as a threat than incentive. Despite his inebriation, Turner felt such propriety for the gardens he downright refused to permit his master to engage Mr. Harris for the project! Frustrated, Darcy reaffirmed those very plans. Turner was in such a disgraceful state, Darcy said, he was most fortunate not to be put off the estate at once. Rehabilitation in less than a month was clearly impossible. There was no choice but to relieve the man of his position immediately. He would be permitted to remain in the cottage until Darcy could fathom subsequent actions.
Lizzy heard the whole with heartache to an extent remarkable for a man she did not know. She was at a loss. How to help a person who knows not how to help himself? Who denies his troubles? She shook her head. "Whatever will you do?" she asked.
"I know not. I was in hopes of a revelation after a good night's sleep. I do know I cannot continue to pay a man wages for a job no longer his. He is to remain in the house for the time being. I was relieved to see the children no longer within, for their sake." He sighed. "Let me discuss the matter with Coventry. His judgment is as good as my own, better at times. Perhaps I shall call on Mr. Barnes, my physician, to seek his advice."
Lizzy confirmed the good sense of his plans. Turning their discussion to lighter matters, they talked of the ball. They would meet with Mr. Harris as soon as would be.
Chapter 4
Lizzy's distress was heightened for another reason. This morning Darcy informed her of his need to go to town before the ball! The couple planned to return in autumn as society dictated. Now business which could not be delayed was to take him away at this most inopportune time. Not only would she be deprived of his company but left to manage the multitude of arrangements without his good counsel! At least Georgiana and Mrs. Reynolds will be of assistance, she thought, now wandering aimlessly about the edge of a wood within the large estate.
What was that sound? She looked about hesitantly, having heard an occasional tall tale about the behavior of area wildlife. Wheeling around, Lizzy caught sight of a retreating figure. The shape was clearly that of man, not beast. Curious and unafraid, she called out but he did not stop. Whoever could this be? Did he think her a servant girl? Is that why he ignored her shouts? She called again. He slowed and stopped but did not turn. Lizzy approached him, breathless and indignant.
"Good sir! Do you mean to follow me about this day?"
"Follow you?" he growled, turning to face her. "Who do you think you are, lass, out here unescorted?"
Lizzy observed the sight before her: this was a man of perhaps her father's age, sallow in complexion, face deeply wrinkled, hair and clothes unkempt. He was tall and quite thin; from the spread of his shoulders and hang of his clothes she could tell he must have been heavier once. Surely he must be trespassing. "Who do I think I am? I should ask that question of you! Why–you are Mr. Turner, are you not?"
"And what if I am? What business is it of yours?"
"The mistress of Pemberley would think it her business to know who lurks about the grounds of this estate," Lizzy replied sharply. Lord, she thought, how haughty I sound!
"Mistress of Pemberley!" he snarled. "And where is her highness? About to delight us with her royal presence?"
He did think her a servant. Lizzy debated her response. "Perhaps. Has she offended you?"
"Offended me? Hah! How could her highness possibly offend a man no longer in the great master's employ? All because of a silly ball!"
"Ball? You believe you were relieved of your duties because of the ball?"
"Course. Were it not for her highness, I would still have my position. Leave me now, girl, so I may hunt for my supper in peace!" he shouted, pulling a slingshot from his belt. He waved it in the air and stormed away.
Lizzy was astounded. He blamed her for his troubles? She banished her impulse to pursue him and instead set out for the house. She needed time to make sense of this confrontation. Frowning, she stepped quickly, lips pursed, skirts lifted above her ankles. How dare he blame her! She, who wanted to help him? There was a pang of guilt upon thinking the last. Any good intentions on her part to aid Mr. Turner had been usurped by social obligations and preparations for the ball. Darcy met with Mr. Coventry weeks ago after the nasty visit with Turner. Devoid of better ideas, they agreed to let the matter rest for the time being. He was now but a harmless drunkard. Mr. Barnes consented to call on him but acknowledged there was little to be done if Turner continued to imbibe spirits in such quantity. Approaching the house, Lizzy considered whether to share news of the meeting with her husband. She decided to keep the encounter to herself for the time being. At least in this way, I can assist him, she thought, suspecting her protective husband would perceive a treat to her safety and have Turner put off Pemberley immediately.
Thoughts of the incident continued to preoccupy Elizabeth. A week had not gone by before she conceived a rudimentary plan. Harris was driving her to distraction with his repeated concerns about the gardens. Darcy was from her most days, seeing to the outlying farms before departing for London. Alas, it was quite likely he would remain there for most of the month of May! The couple had not been apart a single night since their marriage. Lizzy was pained at the thought of his prolonged absence but resolved to use the time wisely.
Some ten days after her brush with Mr. Turner, Lizzy set out in search of the man. Darcy was engaged all morning in matters of business. Having secured the location of Turner's dwelling she hoped to find him within and sober, not necessarily in that order. She clutched a small basket of food left over from her morning meal. Climbing a small hill toward a cluster of structures, she knocked on the door of the largest. Her wait was rewarded with a shout.
"Who's there?" Before she could answer, "Go away!"
"Mr. Turner, I would like very much to speak with you!" Lizzy shouted. "Will you not open the door?" She heard rustling within. The door creaked inward about two inches.
"You! What do you want?"
"I am come to inquire after you."
"I do not require enquiry. I beg you, go away."
"I will not. If you do not wish me inside, then come out and we shall walk together," Lizzy responded with a steady gaze, chin raised, arms crossed.
Turner squinted into the sunshine. How his head ached! Lord, this was a stubborn girl, whoever she was. He was reluctant to let her in but thought a walk too painful in his condition. She was not about to heed his entreaty to leave. Emitting an angry grunt, he opened the door further and Lizzy entered.
While her eyes grew accustomed to the dimness within, her sense of smell was immediately accosted causing her to nearly gag. The cottage was a shambles. Lizzy walked straight to the windows and opened them, inhaling the fresh air.
"What do you think you are doing? Who are you to come into my home and..."
"The air in here is not fit to be breathed!" Pausing, "indeed, Mr. Turner, who am I? It is time we settled that matter."
He looked at her with disdain. "The nerve of you, pestering me, impertinent serving girl!" he grumbled.
"You see, Mr. Turner, that is the trouble. I cannot support this pretense...I am not a serving girl."
He scrutinized as if to see her for the first time. Eyeing her fine toilette and superior attire, a sinking feeling joined the preexisting nausea brought about from last night's drinking.
Lizzy extended her hand. "How do you do. My name is Elizabeth Darcy." Unable to suppress her natural tendency toward teasing, she added, "You may call me 'your highness.'"
Turner said nothing for some time, then, "Are you well pleased with yourself, my lady? Misleading a rotten old man?"
"You gave me little chance to correct your presumption when we met in the wood. My husband told me of his concern for you shortly after we arrived at Pemberley. It is unfortunate we could not have met under more favorable circumstances."
"More favorable circumstances, indeed!" His tone oozed sarcasm.
"Mr. Turner, there is another matter I must set right. You mistake the reason for your lack of employment. It was not me, or my idea for a party. Much to his dismay, Mr. Darcy relieved you of your position for the very reason your children are not present in this house." The latter seemed to capture his attention. "I will not let you continue to destroy your life!"
"Well, that's just it, now is it not? My life. And I can do as I please with it. I will thank you not to interfere further in my affairs." He walked to the door.
Lizzy could have kicked herself for making her last statement just when he began to soften. Determined, she tried again. "What do you think your wife would say, were she to be here with you now? In such a state as this, surely you do no honor to her memory."
"What do you know of my wife? How dare you speak of her!" The words were harsh but the tone belied great sadness. Lizzy instantly knew she had touched his heart.
"You are quite right. I know not of your wife. I do know of my own love and pride for my husband and would not be the same without him. Your life has changed greatly since her passing, has it not?"
"Changed?" he snickered. "Excepting these four walls, nothing is the same."
Lizzy carefully seated herself in a dirty chair. "Will you not tell me about her? What was her name?"
Thus began Elizabeth's relationship with Elias Turner. She stayed with him two hours that day as he told her of his wife and children. They did not speak further of drinking. Before she left, she asked him a favor. "You were quite right in your assessment of Mr. Harris' capability to oversee the gardens," she said. "The job is much too complicated for him. Mr. Darcy tells me there is only one other who can help me now."
"Who would that be?" he asked.
"Why you, sir. No–do not give me your answer today. I will call again shortly and we shall discuss it." Lizzy emptied the contents of the basket she brought. He eyed the food--clearly a bribe--but he had no care for eating.
"You would defy your husband after he has put me out of his employ?" he was surprised.
"I do not think of it as defiance. You have a need to eat. I have a need for a competent gardener. I look upon any alliance between the two of us as one of friendly assistance."
"Friends?" his tone was caught between a sneer and amazement. No other had shown anything but contempt for his situation.
"Yes. Now I would go."
Satisfied with her intrusion, Lizzy walked toward Pemberley House. The key seemed to be ignoring his problem. Perhaps once she won his trust, that could be dealt with. For now she wanted to make him feel needed again...and need him she did. Approaching the greenhouses, Lizzy observed Harris transplanting a tender young tree just as its roots began to take hold. She was surprised the tree had survived thus far, for it had been moved several times. Hand on her forehead in near despair, Lizzy sent off a silent prayer for Elias Turner to come to her rescue.
Lizzy called upon Mr. Turner twice more prior to her husband's departure. Showing him drawings of Harris' plans, her strategy to engage his talent appeared to be working. His help came sparingly at first, in the manner of ice starting to melt--a droplet here, a droplet there. Lizzy forced herself to be patient. He could not resist once grasping the extent of the damage.
"No, no, no! What the devil is he doing? You cannot place these flowers next to those bushes!" he pointed to the paper. "They grow quite full; it will be too crowded. Harris has no talent for schemes, merely growing and cultivating. Bloody farmer–-um, begging your pardon, Mrs. Darcy. The man is ruining five and twenty years' work!"
"What is your advice? It seems too late to plant entirely anew." Lizzy became the emissary of his corrective actions, disguising them as her own ideas. Turner had not objected to this nor tried to assert himself directly into the work. The cottage was only a bit more put together on each of her visits. Lizzy was sure he was still drinking. She took some consolation in the fact that he was at least eating. Before each outing she filled the basket with food diverted from her own table. He usually picked at it while she was there.
They spent some time remedying Harris' plans. Lizzy was so preoccupied with Turner's instructions that she almost walked straight into her husband upon nearing the house.
"My love, I find you in quite another world this afternoon. I have been searching for you!"
"I–I thought your work would keep you until dinner, so I..."
"...Took yourself on a solitary picnic, I see." He touched her face. "I have been sorely neglecting you, dearest, and I go to town in just two days' time. Leave the basket and let us walk together."
Thinking herself free from suspicion, Lizzy related her ideas to alter the garden as they walked within. "Elizabeth, you astonish me. I had no idea you had such talent for gardening. For example, Harris advised me the relocation of that arbor was your suggestion," he pointed. "Why, that was the very spot where Turner always placed it! He said it had something to do with the right combination of sunlight and shade. I think it a remarkable coincidence." He went on to name two other such remarkable coincidences. The teasing in his voice and manner of expression all told Lizzy she had been found out.
"How long have you known?"
"Not quite a week, I suppose," he shrugged. "At first I thought you gathered your insight through reading, though you could not be found in the library. On Tuesday, I noticed you put aside food and set out with the basket only to return with a fresh set of instructions, many of which seemed familiar–-well, it was rather easy to determine what you were about."
"Are you upset that I did not tell you?"
"I confess I am a bit disturbed, now you ask. I should hope you do not find me unapproachable–-"
She interrupted, "No, my love, you are most approachable. It is neither your understanding nor disposition which prevented me telling you. I had not planned to withhold it for so long."
The matter was discussed for a time, each of them trying to absorb the blame. Darcy was relieved to hear of Turner's involvement. He thought it clever of his wife to manipulate the man's interest, though he remained unsettled about her deception. Shortly all was resolved. They vowed to spend the next two days in each other's company until he took his leave.
Chapter 5
"It occurred to me the other day that we have just passed an anniversary...of sorts," he said with a grin.
"An anniversary? So soon?"
"Indeed, it has been a twelvemonth since we were together in Kent."
"Ah, Kent." She sat up and looked at him. "It seems a lifetime ago. As though the parties concerned were other than ourselves."
They laughed as they reminisced, wondering how two people of reasonable good sense could have been so misled by the other–he thinking she would be thrilled to become his wife, she despising what she thought him to be. The topic of their uneasy acquaintance had long been discussed and the conclusion reached that it happened for the best. Both Darcy and Elizabeth believed they loved and appreciated each other far better because of it.
Lizzy turned serious. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he was to leave her tomorrow that provoked her emotions far more than usual. She conveyed how very lucky she was to receive a second chance with him. "Had I not come to Derbyshire last summer, I know not what would have become of me."
"Or me. I thought myself loathsome, despicable. But I came to realize one truth–I would never be free of my love for you."
Lizzy gazed solemnly into her husband's eyes. "That is a feeling I came to know as well, when I thought Lydia's folly had driven you away. I believed you lost to me entirely. I knew I could never love another. In my darkest moments, I imagined myself wed to a man..." Darcy thought his heart would break as she shared her private thoughts. "A man I did not love. A man I would wish, pretend was you, all the days of my life."
"No, my love. I would have found my way to you, I am sure of it. As there is a God, I must believe He would have brought us together in some way." He stroked her face with the back of his hand. "Dearest Elizabeth. How I love you," he murmured, hugging her tightly to him.
"And how I love you, my most excellent husband," she responded, kissing him slowly at first, then with an intensity and passion normally reserved for their bedchamber. Darcy began to regret they were out-of-doors, albeit well away from the house. Eventually that obstacle was of no consequence.
Chapter 6
"You must promise to write the instant you arrive in town," she said for the hundredth time.
"Yes, my love. And each day after that, even if it is only one line. Frivolous waste of paper and messenger's time, but done in the name of love...you shall see, there will be little time to read my letters. The ball will keep you busy, then Jane and Charles will arrive. You will not notice my absence."
"What a thing to say! As you stand before me I am missing you." The horses grew impatient. Drivers and groomsmen huddled in conversation some yards in front of them, pretending not to notice the couple but straining to hear every hushed word.
Darcy stepped with Lizzy toward the open carriage door. His annoyed glance at the men served to disperse the group and lend the couple some privacy. They did not notice two chambermaids peeking out a window as they fervently kissed good-bye. The maids giggled and noted how nice it was to work in a happy home. Contented masters and mistresses often went easy on the help. Darcy alighted the carriage, gave whispered instruction for Lizzy to check the mantle in their room, waved and was gone.
On the mantle was a letter, folded and sealed. Lizzy smiled, thinking him sly to begin their correspondence before his departure. She thought she heard the scratch of a pen's nib while stirring this morning. Moving to the window where the light was brighter, she unfolded the letter and eagerly perused its contents.
...for you know me to be a man of few words. Indeed, I find myself quite unable to accurately verbalize my love. As dawn breaks this morning, I am without sleep and thus shall attempt to set forth my feelings before you, for I know such approach has succeeded in the past...
The letter continued, exposing the whole of his emotion in great detail, causing Lizzy to blush at the explicitness of his words. Her understanding of his love never wavered, yet it was remarkably fulfilling to read of it. He thought of their recent picnic as a particularly momentous dalliance.
...just the other day, together in the wood, our words were transformed to action in a seamless, perfect blend of ardent emotion. Was it the sunshine, the trees? Your softness, beauty? Nay, though those alone are enticement enough, it was the honest, open way you confided your innermost thoughts which roused me so; once such a connection formed in spirit, it was not long before our bodies would follow...
Lizzy continued to its conclusion, reread the letter and placed it in her treasure box next to another he had written a long time ago.
Chapter 7
Visits with Mr. Turner continued. Lizzy had Cook prepare entire meals since there was no need to divert food from her table. He appeared to be eating at least some of it. All problems with the gardens by now addressed, she learned much about the man from the most reliable source: himself. Lizzy could scarce believe his age was five and forty since he looked so much older. She assuaged the loneliness he felt since his Mary died. He had admitted, though she was sure he had not meant to, feeling deeply guilty for her death. Lizzy was certain these beliefs led to his drinking and the disbanding of his family. She remained undecided as to the current extent of his habit. He was careful to conceal any evidence and seemed always sober in her presence.
The passing days became consumed by preparations for the approaching ball. More than two hundred members of England's most favored society would attend with thirty or so of its not-so-favored society who were friends and relations of Pemberley's mistress. Lizzy was enormously relieved to hear her mother had not plans to attend, having been engaged on an extended visit by the Wickhams. The remainder of her family would be there, traveling with the Bingleys and Gardiners; all were expected to arrive the week of the ball. Jane and Charles would take their leave a few days after the gala to tour estates in Derby and Yorkshire. Lizzy was delighted to learn they accepted her invitation to spend the rest of summer at Pemberley.
To her utter amazement, Lady Catherine acquiesced attendance without fuss or bother. Her letter was short and, dare Lizzy think it? Polite. Were the shades of Pemberley so quickly cleansed? Lizzy was quite perplexed, suspicious even, but without further substance attributed her coming to mere curiosity. Of course she and cousin Anne would be their guests at the estate, as were the Bingleys, Bennets, Collinses and several others. The Hursts and Caroline Bingley were notable exceptions; it seems they were engaged to stay elsewhere. More than one servant remarked to the mistress that it was many a year since the house had seen so much activity. Linens were washed and ironed, guest rooms prepared, floors waxed and silverware polished. Plans for food and drink were discussed and finalized. Repairs to the ballroom were completed; new chandeliers were on order from Leeds. Lizzy fretted they would not arrive for the ball until a new problem took precedence.
It was less than ten days before the affair. Mrs. Albert, her seamstress, urged a fitting but Lizzy was busy and delayed until it could be put off no more. She stood in her dressing room discussing dessert dishes with Mrs. Reynolds while the ball gown was slipped over her head. It was of a gorgeous scarlet-colored silk, hand embroidered throughout with seed pearls and gold thread in an intricate flower and leaf pattern. The front was gathered at the bodice, falling in a cascade of shallow pleats. The short, capped sleeves were bordered in gold as was the hem. A matching shawl of gold spun in a loose, open weave would be worn outdoors. In keeping with fashion, the neckline was low, however...
"Good God!" gasped Lizzy.
"What is the matter?" Missus Albert and Reynolds cried in unison. Three pair of eyes gazing in the mirror beheld the problem. The dress was cut far too low and tight over the bosom.
"What is too be done? Look! I am not fit to be seen in public!" cried Lizzy in a frenzy. She tried in vain to adjust the gown upward but to no avail. No, it would never do! "What were you thinking?" she admonished the seamstress; caught herself and quickly apologized. "But what can be done to remedy this? It is too late to order fabric for another gown...and it is otherwise so beautiful."
"I will let it out as much as can be. Perhaps if I were also to build up the neckline using the gold, something like this?" said Mrs. Albert, wondering to high heaven how she could have mismeasured her mistress or miscut the dress. She draped part of the gold shawl across Lizzy's exposed bust, doubling then tripling its open weave. It seemed to solve the problem; in fact, the gown looked better. Another disaster averted, sighed Lizzy.
Tucked in his study, Darcy tore the seal on Elizabeth's latest letter. The drawn-out business which took him to London was finally nearing conclusion. The work had not been arduous, leaving time for society and sport. He tired immediately of consorting with his gentlemen friends and attending parties alone. For these and other reasons, Darcy sorely missed his wife. Reading her letters was the high point of his day. His eyes danced across the page as he sipped his tea. Lizzy was relating the incident concerning her gown.
...my darling, I was such a sight! It is good you were not there.
Eyebrows raised in sheer delight, he murmured, "I dearly wish I had been there. A sight for sore eyes, I grant you."
You must cease those thoughts at once. I know what you are wishing this very moment! 'Tis far better you were not there. Mrs. Albert promises the damage will be repaired in very good time. Can you not imagine the countenance of Lady Catherine were she to look upon me and behold what is yours alone to enjoy...
Mine alone, indeed, he thought. He finished reading her letter and prepared his response.
...as regards your gown, make haste and instruct Mrs. Albert to begin anew. I should like you to wear the original to parties of a more intimate nature, those in which we two are solely in attendance...I am in no way anxious to share what is mine alone to enjoy. I look forward to becoming reacquainted with each of your many attributes and rekindling my enjoyment forthwith.
He continued, expanding his news to a more serious subject.
Sadly, a mysterious influenza is taking hold in town. Victims appear in their usual state of health until felled by violent pains about the stomach. In due course, no sustenance can be maintained. The affliction seems to be gaining virulence, for today I am told the Smithfields' cousin succumbed to the illness. It is all the talk at gatherings. Make no mistake, there are many inducements calling me home-–first and foremost you, my love-–and our ball, of course. Yet in the face of disease I am most eager to be from town.
Lizzy finished reading Darcy's letter, rising slowly. The confounded lightheadedness was back. Each time she thought she was better, the vague unwellness would return. And such disturbing news about the influenza! Lizzy could trace the beginnings of her own symptoms to the day her husband left and was sure there was a relationship. She missed him acutely, feelings worsened by the pressures from the ball. Now she would worry about his health and exposure to pestilence. Serves me quite right for ridiculing Mama about her nerves, she thought. Perhaps the apple falls not far from the tree!
Chapter 8
"Lizzy! Lizzy! Look over there!" she cried, breathless from running and gesturing toward the far end of the garden. Goodness, it was Mr. Turner. Shovel in hand, he was digging up a border of peonies in full bloom.
Lizzy ran, still clutching her letter. "Mr. Turner! What are you DOING?" she shouted.
"Don' belong here....move over there!" he mumbled, clearly very drunk.
This was the first time Lizzy saw him so far gone. Stepping forward, she placed her hand on the instrument's handle while he tried in vain to push it into the earth. His foot repeatedly missing its target, he looked as though he was engaged in a pagan dance ritual. "No, Mr. Turner. The peonies are happy here. They should not require relocation. There, rest your shovel and come sit with me," she soothed. Something told her yelling and screaming would not bring desired results. She puzzled at the cause of his current condition so early in the day.
"No," he said, continuing his vain attempts at digging. At least the damage would be minimal and remedied quickly.
Turning to Georgiana, Lizzy whispered instruction to fetch one of the undergardeners. "Will you be quite all right?" her sister worried.
"Of course! This is my friend, Mr. Turner. There seems to be a misunderstanding about the peonies," said Lizzy, stepping closer to him. "I insist. Come rest yourself. You must be worn out from your duties." She pulled him toward a bench and sat down beside him. "You are very welcome to visit the gardens." He was not really welcome yet, but such was not the point. "I ask only that you leave your tools at home. You see before you the fruits of your labor."
He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. "What've I got to show for it? Not a thing. No wife, no children, no employment..."
"I believe the last two items were being remedied," she said. "Regardless, now is not the time to discuss them." Unable to resist, she added, "whatever was your motive? I thought us to be friends."
"We are not?"
"I do not care for your company in this manner." Spying the undergardener, she stood. "Please escort Mr. Turner back to his cottage." Out of Turner's earshot, she added, "see that he remains there for now. And do your best to remove his garden tools!" To Turner, she said, "Mr. Smythe will see you home. Why do you not rest? I will visit again shortly."
The women were relieved to see the men take their leave, one walking upright, the other leaning heavily upon him. Lizzy shook her head, picturing Turner accosting ladies and gentlemen during the ball. She shared her disappointment with Georgiana, for the man seemed to be progressing toward sobriety.
"I understand he visited his children," Georgiana told her sister.
"What? When?" She listened impatiently while appraised of the details. Such confrontation must have caused the lapse. "Oh dear," Lizzy said. "I do wish this were all settled."
Clouds thickened above and rain was starting to fall with a vengeance. Lizzy grabbed for her letter and ran to the house with her sister, thinking she would never be so relieved to experience the party's conclusion.
Chapter 9
"It looks well, indeed!" Lizzy's heart leapt at the deep, rich sound of a most familiar voice. Her husband was home, now greeting Georgiana with enthusiasm.
Lizzy looked to the workers. "Will you not excuse us?" Smiling, they quit the room, as did Georgiana. Darcy rapidly engulfed his wife in an embrace so tight she felt her feet leave the floor. "I thought this day would never come. How much I have missed you..." Her words were extinguished by his heartfelt kisses and murmurings of comfort. The separation had taken its toll on him as well.
The lovers remain thus engaged until the distinctive sounds of a throat being cleared were heard at the door. Looking over, they perceived Mr. Bennet's laughing gaze with Charles, Jane, Mary and Kitty not far behind. The Darcys would have to continue their reunion at a later time.
Lizzy smoothed her hair and dismissed Hannah, her maid. About to leave her dressing room after changing for dinner, she was surprised to see her husband enter and shut the door firmly. "Dearest! I thought you to be already at table," she said, for the hour grew late. Certainly their guests were waiting.
"I confess, I cannot help myself. I am loathe to think of spending an evening in company with only so much as half a minute alone with you these four weeks together!" He encircled her in his arms, nuzzling her neck. She felt so soft, so warm. Her fragrance was divine. He kissed her neck, behind her ear, her lips...
"Fitzwilliam Darcy."
"At your service, madam." This was but a breathless whisper between kisses.
"I beg you, do not begin a journey you cannot presently finish!"
"I promise not to detain you for more than a minute–or two." His fingers traced the neckline of her dress, caressing her bosom. "Tell me more of the problem with your ball gown." He bent to kiss the path forged by his fingers.
Lizzy giggled. "No, I will not. The gown is best left to your imagination. And I should require far more of your time than a mere minute." She gently pushed him away, sighing, "We have no choice but to wait until later." Will groaned, not quite in jest. This would surely be the longest evening of his life.
Lizzy strained to hear if rain was still falling. Was that not the moon? She lifted her head from its place on her husband's chest. "What is it?" he whispered. They retired hours ago, deferring sleep in favor of activities far more urgent in nature. The evening had been interminable. Several times they exchanged prolonged, knowing glances across the crowded dinner table. He kept touching her hand at coffee and discreetly stroked the small of her back while Georgiana play the pianoforte. Never before had desire been in such abundance.
"I was wondering if the rain has ceased," she yawned.
Darcy listened. "I believe it has! In very good time for the grounds to dry out. We would not wish wetness upon Lady Catherine's feet." His aunt would arrive tomorrow. "You have been worrying about the weather, have you not?"
"Not excessively," she lied.
Will lifted her face toward his. "Really, darling, are you quite all right? I thought Georgiana to be exaggerating but indeed, you do look pale." He kissed her nose. "At least you did earlier."
"I dare not complain or I shall sound like Mama, but I believe my nerves have been sorely tested!" She returned his kiss. "But now you are come back, all will be well with the world." He laughed but persisted with his concern. "I admit, I have been tired of late. There has been much to do, anything and everything has gone wrong and..."
"When the ball is over and our guests gone away, we shall spend three days together locked in this room!" Will declared.
Chapter 10
A steaming bath in scented water helped to calm her. Presently Hannah fussed with her hair. It was arranged in curls on top of her head to honor the occasion and the jewels Darcy insisted she wear. Fastened at the base of the curls was a pearl and diamond tiara. Not partial to hats and feathers, Lizzy thought the piece the epitome of elegance. It had been selected from the collection belonging to Darcy's mother. Lizzy's neck was adorned by a new necklace of diamonds, pearls and rubies, a surprise gift. Her gown successfully altered, Lizzy scrutinized its fit in the mirror while slipping on scarlet slippers and pulling up long white gloves. Yes, this will do, she thought, thanking her maid and moving forth to join her husband. She found him already in the conservatory instructing the musicians. Lizzy admired how tall and handsome he looked in formal attire.
He smiled as she approached. "My love, the splendor of the setting sun will have nothing to compare with the sight before me," he said, bowing and kissing her gloved hand. He rose, running the back of his hand down her cheek. "You are excessively breathtaking. I shall not be able to leave your side this night."
"And break your promise to dance with my sisters?" she teased. Tucking her gloved hand in the crook of his arm, they walked through the open doors to the garden for a final inspection.
"There seems no sign of Turner this evening, drunk or sober," said Darcy. Lizzy had related his behavior toward the peonies.
"Yes, for now I hope it remains that way. I shall see to his health on the morrow," Lizzy said. Their attention was henceforth absorbed by friends and family joining them. The ball was underway!
Darcy offered his wife the glass of punch she requested. Deprived of his company for more than an hour, they had communicated to one another through glances and small gestures across the crowded ballroom. Thus far, all was well. The garden party was a smashing success and God rewarded Lizzy's prayers with a dazzling sunset. The crowd moved indoors at a leisurely pace, many electing to remain outside as darkness deepened. Lady Catherine appeared much engaged with her acquaintances from town, Anne and Mr. Collins never far from her side. Georgiana and Kitty seemed to be getting on well with a few of the young gentlemen. Mary, Mr. Bennet and the Gardiners were deep in conversation with the Lambton guests. Lizzy endeavored to spend as much time as possible with Charlotte and Jane for there was much to speak about. Dancing commenced nearly two hours later and became the chief occupation for all. The only pall cast upon the occasion was London's influenza. It seemed every guest had a friend or relative affected, some with grievous outcomes. It came on slowly, she was told. A twinge here, a cramp there–-then the dizziness. By the time one felt truly ill, it could be too late! Lizzy heard all with a good deal of concern, thinking of her own complaints. She felt very well at present and was convinced the problem was behind her. After all, she had not been in town for months.
It became time to consider the food. When Darcy was called upon to join a group of gentlemen engaged in discussing politics, Lizzy made her way to the pantry to confer with Mrs. Reynolds. Thus she was engaged when another servant approached looking anxious. "If you please, Mistress Darcy. I must have a word with you directly."
"What is it, Mr. Bates? Can it not wait?"
"No ma'am." Lizzy quickly finished her instruction and walked away with Bates. His agitation grew as the seconds passed. "Begging your pardon, mistress, but there is a problem of sorts in the garden."
"What?"
"It's Turner, ma'am. He insists on seeing you."
"Oh no." The thought of a besotted Turner, with or without a shovel–
"He says it's most urgent–he seems a bit, well, you know. You seem to have a way with 'im."
Lizzy made haste to the garden without hesitation.
The glow of the half moon was more useful in lighting the grounds than the torches, Lizzy thought, rapidly descending the stone steps, wishing she got a better description of Turner's whereabouts until she felt someone grab her from behind.
"Shhhh–-come with me!" It was Turner. He took her hand and boldly pulled her toward the greenhouses. He blurted the account to her once inside. Contrary to Bates' information, he was not drunk. Unable to stay away, he had been lurking around the greenhouses observing the festivities until dark. He thought all the guests had gone indoors and was about to take a turn outside when he heard the distinctive sound of, well, there was no polite way to put it–a man relieving himself in a nearby flowerbed. He walked toward the sound, looked around for some minutes but saw nothing. Damn cruel thing to do to those innocent flowers. Returning to a greenhouse for his hat, he was surprised to hear voices. Two of them, in fact, a man and a woman. He recognized the lady's voice at once. She had not been to Pemberley in years but he was sure it was Mr. Darcy's aunt. He even supplied an imitation for effect. Crouching in the darkness behind a potted palm, he could hear their words clearly. As she listened, Lizzy leaned against the table for support. She was shocked indeed but had no doubt as to the man's veracity.
"I am in your debt, Mr. Turner. God placed you fortuitously this night."
"All due respect to the almighty, ma'am, but it was you who put me here. You helped me, even when I deserved no kindness. Now it is my turn to help you." He squeezed her arm. "What are friends for, ma'am?"
Lizzy returned to the house, hopeful she had not been missed. Wishing she had trusted her instincts about Lady Catherine, she considered which course to follow. Instead of approaching the ballroom, she turned to the pantry. Would that she be in time!
According to Turner, Lady Catherine's scheme involved tainting the food; specifically, the roasted beef. The unidentified gentleman accomplice was to wander into the kitchen pretending to be lost then apply some sort of powder to the meat before it was served. Whatever it was, the meat's flavor would not be affected. Guests would consume the popular dish to their heart's content only to become ill the next day. As hostess, everyone would blame her for their suffering. She would be ruined! Lizzy thought it a dreadfully vicious plan in light of the influenza outbreak. Even she did not think Lady Catherine as heartless as this.
The pantry was wild with activity. Calling for Mrs. Reynolds, Lizzy scrambled among the servants, lifting bell covers from trays with each hand. "The roasted beef! Has anyone served the roasted beef?" It was all she could do not to scream.
"Beg pardon, mistress, but I think Mr. Bates just brought out the first tray!" said one of the serving girls.
"Minnie, listen carefully. You must retrieve that tray. Simply take it off the table and bring it back to me. Take care you notice if anyone has served themselves from it yet. Frances, go with Minnie. If anyone is eating the meat...just take away their plate, but do so politely! Go! Make haste!" She pushed them through the door.
The situation was in hand within five minutes. Guests had just begun making their way down the generous food-laden table. Only one gentleman had taken the roasted beef thus far. Frances curtsied, flashed her most flirtatious smile and relieved him of his untouched plate. It was out of his hands before he could refuse. The gentleman was heard commenting to his lady that the service at Pemberley had never been so prompt. Lizzy conferred with Mrs. Reynolds. Yes, there had been a gentleman guest in the kitchen. He created quite a stir at a most harried time. Lizzy immediately ordered the meat destroyed. "There will be NO roasted beef this night. See that no servants take it. Do not even feed it to the dogs. Destroy it at once–burn it if you must! I will explain later," she said, rushing toward the ballroom, her relief utter and complete.
Darcy approached her immediately. "All is well in the kitchen, I trust? Why do you not eat? Let me fix you a plate." She sat, nodding her head in consent. His activity would give her a few minutes to gather her wits. "Which do you prefer? Fish or roasted beef?"
"FISH!" she replied, a bit too loudly.
"Yes, my love, fish it is." Darcy thought the ball to be an unequivocal success but was grateful to have it soon over. His wife was far from her usual composed self. Shades of the mother? Let it not be so! he thought.
The festivities continued without further incident until the wee hours of the morning. Lizzy and Darcy were the last to retire. Lizzy had dismissed many servants hours ago through a whispered conversation with Mrs. Reynolds. The exhausted old woman remained somewhat befuddled at her mistress' final instruction regarding tomorrow's dinner.
Chapter 11
"What is it?" he yelled, half asleep, snuggling his wife's back. This time of year the bed curtains remained tied back. Damn, it was bright in the room!
It was Bingley. "Going to sleep all day? It is half-past noon!" he shouted in return. "Do not forget our plans!"
Awake, Darcy shouted an acknowledgment. Half noon! He could not remember the last time he slept this late. Well, they had got to bed at nearly four and to sleep some time after that. His wife's energy level seemed fine then. Now she was barely arousable. He rose, dressed and looked in on her before leaving. The men were off for some fishing. They would be back for dinner.
"Dinner?" Lizzy mumbled. "Do not plan on eating your catch this day. I am serving roasted beef for dinner." Darcy could hardly make out her words–was she dreaming? "I will explain later," she said, opening one eye.
Lizzy thought she had never felt quite so exhausted. Motivated only by her plan, she dragged herself through her usual morning ritual. It was nearly two in the afternoon before she descended the stairs.
A large party was assembled at the dinner table. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were joined by the Bingleys, Mr. Bennet, the Collinses, Kitty, Mary, Georgiana, Anne DeBourgh, Lady Catherine and two of her dear friends, Mrs. Kidwell and Mrs. Sotheby. The latter were rather prominent ladies of London society. In the kitchen, Cook and Mrs. Reynolds surveyed the food, prepared afresh this morning. Having been supplied with further detail as to why she was serving that particular dish, they thought their mistress very clever.
Lizzy looked up in anticipation when servants entered the dining room with the main course, trays held high. The platters were stacked with slices of cold roasted beef. "There is a story behind this dish I must share with you now," she said to her guests, explaining how an oversight occurred during the ball. A gentleman guest caused confusion in the kitchen and the roasted beef had not been served. It had been carefully stored and was still perfectly good. Of course they all understood what a shame it was to waste good meat. Quantity was plentiful so this was to be the only dish served today.
Lizzy mustered every ounce of civility within her. "Lady Catherine, would you care to start?" The look on the woman's face was priceless.
Utterly silent, yet deeply vexed she served herself a few slices, even cut into it before resting knife and fork, announcing, "I am afraid I find myself unwell. I must retire immediately to my room. Anne, please accompany me." Passing Lizzy, she added, "kindly accept my apologies for disrupting this fine meal." Lizzy bit her lip to suppress a smile. Dinner proceeded without further incident.
Because none of the guests went on to take ill, Lady Catherine realized she had been found out and made plans to leave for Kent as soon as could be, claiming a portentous meeting with her dressmaker. Darcy was startled to see his wife emerge from his aunt's rooms shortly before the party's departure, in heightened color and possessing a broad smile upon her face. "My love? Bestowing fond farewells upon our guests?" he asked. "You look like the cat who got into the cream."
"A matter of some importance required discussion prior to her ladyship's parting. It is presently settled. Are you otherwise engaged, or have you time to walk with me to Mr. Turner's?"
Lizzy related the whole to her husband while walking. He was mortified at his aunt's wicked, hurtful plan and heartily ashamed of her. Lizzy reminded him she had settled the affair. Struggling to maintain her composure, she revealed to Lady Catherine two fully executed letters. One was to Mrs. Kidwell, the other to Mrs. Sotheby inquiring of each as to their health, explaining about the tainted meat and Lady Catherine's involvement. Lizzy was eager to post these letters and would do so immediately if further provoked by adverse news from Kent. "You see, she has reduced me to her level, yet I had to humble her in some way."
"Humble her, indeed! I should think of other ways in which she may be humbled," growled Darcy, his thoughts stormy. He understood why Lizzy endeavored to inform him well away from the house. He could not vouch for his actions were he to lay eyes on this unfortunate relation.
They called upon Mr. Turner. To Lizzy, he was her savior, a hero. He saved her garden, her party and her future in Derbyshire society. He told them he had not consumed alcohol since that day with the peonies. He wanted his job and children back. Both cottage and occupant were clean and orderly. Lizzy was grateful to find no odors about today, for she would surely swoon. She took great pleasure observing the men shake hands when Darcy reinstated Turner to his post. Lizzy would meet with Turner's sister and inquire after the children. Time was necessary for trust to be rekindled, she said, but the Darcys would lend their support.
The ensuing days were busy ones spent entertaining their remaining guests. The Collinses quit Pemberley with Lady Catherine and Anne. Charles and Jane went off to tour the estates as planned, expecting to return within a fortnight. Business beckoned Mr. Gardiner and family back home, taking Mary with them. Even with fewer guests about, Lizzy found her energy waning. She was perplexed–-she had felt very well throughout the ball, sure her worry-related symptoms were behind her. The ball was over, so must the illness be!
As the days grew to a week, Lizzy remained listless and tired, asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. The fate of her stomach seemed irretrievably linked to the odor of food. She thought of London's influenza–perhaps she had been exposed after all. Lizzy finally resolved to tell Darcy of her troubles when the symptoms seemed to dissipate once more.
Darcy, meanwhile, kept a careful eye on his wife. Although she confessed in jest merely to being nervous in his absence, his concern was aroused. One afternoon they sat with their guests in the music room, Georgiana at the pianoforte playing a solemn piece. Everyone's mind seemed to drift with the music. Darcy lazily observed the party. When he brought his eyes to Lizzy, seated next to him on the sofa at the rear of the room, he was appalled to find her fully asleep. She woke instantly when he tapped her arm and later made light of the episode. Soon enough, however, she seemed her usual self and his surveillance relaxed.
Chapter 12
Their bedchamber's brightness awakened Darcy. It was going to be warm today, he thought, another good day to be near the water. Perhaps he should ride out to the eastern farms this morning. He yawned and reached for Lizzy but her place in the bed was vacant. He squinted at the mantle clock. Seven? It was early for her to be up and about. He thought he might as well join her for the sooner he concluded his business, the more time he could devote to the trout. He arose, stretched and walked to his dressing room, scratching his stomach. Washed, shaved and dressed, he returned to the bedchamber to retrieve his comb. He was amazed to see his wife back in bed, curled into the fetal position.
"I am very ill today," she said in response to his urgent enquiry.
He cursed himself for ignoring previous concern. "I would venture to guess today is not the first you find yourself ill," he cried in anger.
Lizzy groaned, breathing deeply. She had not felt as bad as this. She turned away from him. Oh dear, that was a mistake. She must make haste and return to the wash basin in her dressing room...at once! Pushing her husband aside, she leaped from the bed, hand clutching her mouth. Then the room went suddenly dark.
"LIZZY! Lizzy!" His voice sounded faint, far away. Her stomach lurched and head ached. Her head and shoulders cradled in his arms, Darcy was lightly but frantically slapping her face. She looked up at him, turned and promptly emptied the contents of her stomach directly onto his coat.
Darcy paced about the room in intense agitation. Lizzy was in bed, a cold cloth covering the growing lump on her head. Mr. Barnes had been urgently dispatched. The couple anticipated the physician's arrival, one with relief, the other with dread.
"Fitzwilliam Darcy! If you do not cease thumping about, I shall have you put out of this room. Your movements are making me dizzy all the more."
His distress was extreme. "How could you? How could you keep this from me? Only now you confess these feelings have plagued you for weeks?" He ran his hand through his hair as though wishing to rip it from his head. "What if this is influenza?" His voice took on a curiously high pitch. "It may be too late... You are entirely selfish and unthinking!" He slumped in a chair, head in his hands.
Johnson knocked on the door. "Mr. Barnes is here, sir." The servant handed his master a fresh waistcoat. He was dressed in shirtsleeves after discarding his soiled apparel. Darcy hurriedly buttoned the garment. Johnson did not have the courage to tell him it was badly done. No matter, for Darcy shortly abandoned his effort and went to meet Barnes in the hall.
Barnes greeted his patient alone as requested, for Darcy was useless at this point. Barnes had not seen the young man so discomposed since his father took ill. Having heard an account of Lizzy's symptoms during the carriage ride to Pemberley, he had a fair idea as to their cause.
"Will you not tell me of your trouble?" he now asked Lizzy.
Lizzy eyed the doctor. Let us get on with it, she thought. He seemed a kindly, older gentleman. She summarized her complaints.
"Beg pardon, ma'am. Your marriage...it is a happy one?"
"What?"
"You and Mr. Darcy–are close, are you not?"
Lizzy was appalled at his line of questioning. What has this to do with influenza? "Of course. Quite close."
"And your-ahem-physical relationship... it is close as well?"
"To what do these questions tend?" she asked impatiently.
"Tell me, Mrs. Darcy, when did you last bleed?"
"What? Bleed?" She blushed. "Why, it was just...just..." The question was a good one. Lizzy thought back to the beginning of her marriage. December–yes, just after we arrived at Pemberley. I was ill with cramps. And January, when the weather was foul. February...I do not recall, but yes, March. It was when Mr. Harris began destroying the garden. April...um...May... Recognition finally dawned upon her. It was now the middle of June. She looked up at Mr. Barnes and found him wearing a wide smile.
"Congratulations, Mrs. Darcy. I have made my diagnosis." He remained for a few minutes to reassure his sheepish patient and answer a few questions. "Let me retrieve your husband before he tears up this fine house. Do you prefer to tell him, or shall I?"
"I will tell him." Lizzy was smiling now. "Will you not wait while I do so? He may require your services."
Barnes approached the upstairs sitting room. Darcy was at the far window, leaning all his weight on the sill, gazing out but seeing nothing. Georgiana, Kitty and Mr. Bennet paced within. Barnes knocked lightly, Darcy upon him immediately.
"Do you–have you made your diagnosis?"
"I have. It is quite clear." Barnes thought Darcy would faint. Indeed, all parties looked distraught. They presume influenza. Foolish. He maintained a serious demeanor. "She desires to inform you herself." Darcy was off like a shot.
Dry in mouth and weak in knees, thinking his heart would pound out of his chest, Darcy entered the bedchamber and nearly stumbled at the sight of his wife in tears. He felt the blood rush from his head as he approached her. He pulled a chair next to the bed and collapsed into it. "T–Tell me. Tell me at once." He encircled his arms about her waist, dropping his head to her chest. "I cannot live without you!" he whispered, voice breaking.
"You shall not have to, for I am not dying." He could not see her smile. She stroked the back of his head. "In fact, I am not even ill."
"What?" He looked up, completely confused.
Lizzy looked into her husband's eyes and whispered, "I am with child."
Darcy's jaw dropped. She was unsure he comprehended. "What?" he repeated.
Lizzy giggled, wiping a tear. "I am to make you a father at Christmas or shortly after. I feel so very foolish! I should have known! But I am unused to keeping track of such things and the ball occupied my every thought, then I learned of the influenza..."
"You are...with child? P–pregnant?" Darcy was clearly several seconds behind in the conversation.
She sighed, feigning annoyance at having to repeat herself. "Yes, my love. Pregnant. Mr. Barnes says I am almost three months gone. Are you so shocked? Have we not been very much engaged in activities quite connected with this condition?"
Darcy scarcely heard the last. He was occupied with kissing every inch of Lizzy's face. Later he would be unable to discern which sensation was greater, sheer joy or utter relief. "A baby! Our child! Oh, my angel..."
Conclusion
Presently, the couple lay on the chaise in their bedchamber locked in a tight embrace. The chaise was placed before an open window to take advantage of the breeze, for the room was somewhat stuffy after the warm day. This night was crystal clear, the sky resplendent with stars and a crescent moon. The breeze ruffled the new leaves on the trees. Lizzy could detect the scent of flowers from the garden as she lay with her back against her husband, his fingers gently tracing her abdomen. He had been plying her with questions: where, exactly, was the child growing within her? How big did she think it was now? Was it moving yet? Did she suppose a boy or girl? How could she tell? When, precisely, did she think it was conceived? At the cottage? The picnic? In the study? Here? The last was answered in speculation; after all, there were many possibilities–all so very special.
"For one so exhausted these past weeks," she said, "I seem to have recovered my energy. I am not in the least bit tired."
"You have passed your exhaustion to me, inasmuch as I was overwrought with worry this morning. Can you forgive my behavior? It was unpardonable."
"Of course. I should have told you of my illness." She paused for a time in reflection. "It seems whenever I sense your overprotection, I withdraw."
"Promise me you will do so no more? I cannot bear another scene such as this morning. I nearly asked Mr. Barnes for a draught but a good stiff whiskey did the trick."
"I promise. And I shall endeavor to keep it, so you do not go the way of Mr. Turner. Thankfully he seems well."
"To your credit, I am sure. My love, you are a very fine mistress of this estate. You will make a most wonderful mother." He kissed her. "We have scarce been married six months. You have learned to run this household, planned an ambitious ball, rescued a fine man from despair and ruin, held said ball for nearly three hundred people, each of whom rave about it...shall I go on?"
"Oh do, do. One cannot hear too many good things."
"...Got the better of my aunt, secured your place in London and Derbyshire society...oh no."
"What?"
"It will be not long before you should not be seen in society for a time. Pity. All that work. We shall have to remain in seclusion at Pemberley."
"I shall be very happy to remain in seclusion at Pemberley. Very happy, indeed."
The End