In the Arms of Mr. Darcy

Chapter Three The Second Noël

The relatively fair weather from the prior day lasted, allowing for ease in travel both to the quaint chapel in the Village and for their evening’s guests. Traditions prevailed in both breakfast foods as well as Christmas activities, meaning that in many ways this Christmas was indistinguishable from last year and all the ones that would follow. Mrs. Langton and her staff had prepared a stupendous breakfast heartily enjoyed by everyone in the elaborately bedecked dining room. Everyone wore his or her finest garments, Mr. Bennet dashing in the new suit purchased for his trip to visit Lizzy in London the previous spring. Marguerite and Samuel’s consulting was now an expected arrangement, Lizzy and Darcy therefore dressing in nearly identical shades of blue with silver threads and trim.

Reverend Bertram preached a flawlessly constructed if unsurprising sermon on the birth of Christ. Lizzy had learned over the past year that the children of the parish performed at least three times a year: at Easter, for All Saint’s Day, and during Christmas. It varied from celebration to celebration, either with a play or singing or, in the case of Easter, a puppet show. This year the youngsters gathered in the chancel dressed in choir robes, accompanied by the organist as they lifted their childish voices in a number of seasonal hymns. The finale was the older children singing “The Twelve Days of Christmas” while the tiniest held up corresponding signs with painted pictures of the vocalized gifts. Naturally there were mishaps, especially as the singers inevitably sped up the rhythm as the lengthy song progressed, but the resulting mistakes added to the fun. Once again, the worshippers exited the chapel with laughter and smiles.

As delightful as it was, Lizzy had a hard time relaxing and was anxious to return to the manor. She worried that Alexander may need her, although it was unlikely as he had eaten well and it was less than two hours since departing. To her faint dismay the pleasant weather meant that folks lingered in the modest courtyard, all desirous to congratulate their Master and Mistress on their son. Darcy, unlike years past, was reveling in the praise. His smile was barely contained behind the usual mask of reserved supremacy, lending him an approachable air perceived by all and, to Lizzy’s veiled chagrin, acted upon by every last one of them! Yet despite her worries, they made it safely back to Pemberley before the baby woke.

Opening of the presents necessarily had to wait until Alexander was fed. Then it would take the greater bulk of the afternoon to complete due to the massive quantity of gifts and frequent interruptions. Lord and Lady Matlock arrived shortly after noon with enough wrapped packages to fill the space created by those already opened. Then, approximately an hour and a half later, it was the Bingley carriages.

The cacophony of voices and laughter was overwhelming at times. The ample parlor filled to standing room only, even with additional settees and chairs hastily provided. Any attempt at order was ludicrous. Lord Matlock trapped Mr. Bennet, Mr. Gardiner, and Dr. Darcy, the older gentlemen retreating to a far corner for relatively sedate conversation. Mr. Hurst made a beeline to the liquor cabinet and rarely wandered more than a few feet from it throughout the entire afternoon. Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst sat apart, gazing down their noses at the rowdy Bennets and Gardiners, feeling superior and unaware that Lady Annabella Montgomery was wrinkling her nose at them.

Lizzy had handed the baby to Darcy when Mr. Taylor announced the arrival of the Bingleys, Darcy now happily encumbered in a chair away from the fray. Alexander was awake in Darcy’s lap, his chubby body erupting with newborn wiggles at the silly faces created by his father and the tickles delivered.

“My goodness he has grown!” It was Charles talking, eyes wide in astonishment.

“Welcome to Pemberley, Charles,” Darcy spoke with a laugh. “I would rise and bow properly, but I am otherwise engaged. Pull up a chair and say hello to my son.”

This he did, Colonel Fitzwilliam standing beside Darcy with a broad grin. Alexander’s gaze moved from face to face, intently studying. “He looks so like you, Darcy. It is uncanny! Even your penetrating gaze. Rather disconcerting actually, to have an infant piercing me with your blue eyes.”

Darcy smiled with pride. “I will consider that a compliment, Bingley. He is intelligent and it shows. Is that not the way of it my precious, wise little boy?” The picture of infantile acumen abruptly lost as Darcy attacked his son’s soft neck with nibbling kisses, fistfuls of his hair seized painfully.

“Ouch! Help please!” Darcy pleaded from the depths of Alexander’s neck. Richard laughingly untangled the amazingly tough fingers from Darcy’s locks.

“You need a haircut, Cousin.”

“So I have been informed.” He nestled Alexander against his chest, soft head tucked under his chin, and rocked gently. Alexander instinctively found two fingers to suck on as he relaxed contentedly into the warmth of his father’s body. “How was Christmas at Hasberry, Bingley?”

“Delightful. Jane decorated so beautifully and our cook prepared an amazing breakfast feast. We attended church in Buxton and we, that is Jane and I, thought it perfect.”

Richard hid his smile, Darcy glancing toward Bingley’s sisters who sat rigid on the sofa. Caroline looked up, briefly meeting Darcy’s eyes and raking over the tiny body secured by his broad hands before glancing away with disinterest. “I gather Miss Bingley and the Hursts were not as enthused?”

“Well, you know how it is. Nothing compares to London or, surprisingly, Essex.”

“Essex?” Richard asked in surprise. “What does Essex have to offer?”

“Hanged if I know. She spent several weeks there with a society friend of hers, Miss Beatrice Dandridge, and now suddenly its Essex this and Essex that. She slips it in somewhere every other sentence. Frankly, it is driving me mad.”

“Essex has its charms, especially the coastal areas. Remember Mr. Hardin, Richard? He has a lovely estate near Southend-on-Sea. I spent a few weeks there one summer while at Cambridge.”

“Perhaps so Darcy, but Miss Dandridge lives near Chelmsford. It is not that far from Hertford, and we all know how enthusiastic she was about the country surrounding Netherfield.” The sarcasm was evident in Charles’s voice. He shook his head, “It makes no sense whatsoever.”

“Who can understand a woman, eh, Darcy?” Richard said with a nudge to his cousin’s booted foot. “Unfathomable creatures all, but we love them nonetheless. Here’s to the fairer sex!” He lifted his glass toward Bingley and Darcy, who both laughed, Darcy shaking his head.

“Pathetic. I do pity the woman who ensnares you, dear cousin. Now, if you both will excuse me a moment, I think my son needs to be put to bed.” Darcy rose, Alexander a limp weight although he continued to suck sleepily on his first two fingers. Lizzy was approaching Caroline and Louisa as Darcy drew near.

“Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst, forgive me for not properly greeting you sooner. It has been rather chaotic. Welcome to Pemberley and merry Christmas. Mr. Darcy and I are delighted to have you celebrate with us.” She turned to her husband with a smile, laying one hand lightly on his arm.

“Welcome, Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst. How long has it been, Mrs. Hurst? At least two years?”

“Approximately, Mr. Darcy. Many things have altered. I do not believe I have ever seen Pemberley so elaborately adorned. It is lovely.”

Darcy smiled and bowed slightly, Alexander clutched securely. “Thank you. Many things have changed here at Pemberley, Mrs. Hurst, aside from the decorations.”

“So it seems. Congratulations on the birth of your son. He appears to be a healthy infant.”

“Quite healthy, and asleep and heavy.” He turned to his wife. “Elizabeth, I will put him to bed. Pardon me ladies, I will return momentarily.” And with another short bow, he left.

Lizzy watched him depart with a happy smile, unconsciously releasing a sigh before turning her attention to her guests.

“Mr. Darcy certainly is an attentive father,” Caroline said. “Who would have thought him the type? Playing foolishly in plain sight of all and now attending to the task of carrying to the nursery! Do you not have a nanny for such things, Mrs. Darcy?”

“We do, but as I recall stating many months ago within your hearing, Miss Bingley, we intend to provide for our child’s needs as much as possible. It is a joy to do so, a joy we both treasure.” She chose not to comment on the fact that Mr. Darcy was precisely the “type” to cater ridiculously to his loved ones, a fact Miss Bingley should be aware of given his long standing devotion to Mr. Bingley.

“How was your sojourn in Essex? Jane said you spent over a month there at the Dandridge estate. I recall meeting Miss Dandridge at the soiree at Lord Calvin’s. I was not aware she was a close friend of yours. I have a cousin who lives near Braintree and know how beautiful the countryside is thereabouts. Not particularly exotic or glamorous, but certainly refreshing and good for a horseback ride if nothing else.”

Caroline smiled. “Indeed. Thankfully, I do adore riding so was not too terribly bored. There were enough diversions to entertain.” She finished softly with a faint flush spreading over her cheeks. Lizzy cocked her head in puzzlement, her musings interrupted by an exclamation from Kitty.

“Can we finish opening presents now, please? Papa, this is from Mary and me.”

The revealing commenced. Lizzy sat beside a mildly paler Jane, squeezing her hand. The gentlemen assumed the roles of couriers, delivering labeled packages to the ladies. Every attempt was made to open neatly, one at a time, but enthusiasm occasionally overcame caution with ribbons and paper flying. Darcy rejoined a group in a state of moderate, lively chaos. Laughter was rampant with frequent jumping up to hug someone across the room, gifts being passed about for inspection, and exclamations of appreciation.

Darcy stood beside his wife, hand warm on her shoulder. She glanced upward, eyes sparkling as she clasped his fingers, lifting for a kiss to his knuckles. He smiled, brushing across her cheek before turning to Richard. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, the gold wrapped box to your right is addressed to Mrs. Darcy. Yes, that one. Bring it here please.”

“For you, my lady,” Richard bowed gallantly, placing the flat box onto her lap.

“Thank you, Richard. William, I thought we were done. You already gifted me three new gowns, the sardonyx cameo brooch of a mother and child that I absolutely adore, the leather bound edition of Wordsworth’s Lyrical Ballads, two new pairs of gloves, handkerchiefs, and what else… oh yes, the wooden table with drawers to sit beside my chair!”

“Trifles, my dear. The latter essentially because I was weary of seeing your sewing scattered all over the ground.” He grinned and squeezed her shoulder. “This, in addition to the larger box in yonder corner”—he pointed to a now visible package previously buried under the mound of presents—“is your main gift from me.”

“William, really…”

“You may as well just open it, Lizzy,” Jane interjected, smiling at her brother-in-law. “It is purchased and wrapped. I doubt if there is any chance it will be returned.”

“Absolutely none. Thank you, Mrs. Bingley, for your support. My wife has yet to comprehend the realities of being spoiled by her husband. I pray you do not torment Bingley with useless arguments and quibbling.”

“I fear she does,” Charles said with a laugh. “However, I do believe we should be thankful, Darcy. After all it was the modesty, virtue, and economy of spirit which partially drew us to the Bennet sisters, along with other stellar attributes I hasten to add.”

“Lord have mercy! We will be here until next Christmas at this rate! Open it, Elizabeth, before these two begin reciting poetry and destroy all our appetites!” George declared, Mr. Bennet laughing and nodding in agreement.

Jane blushed, Lizzy laughing as she began untying the ribbons.

“Honestly, Lizzy, and you too, Jane, be thankful you have husbands able to present such treasures! How fortunate you both are!”

“Thank you for the reminder, Mama,” Lizzy said with sarcasm.

Of course Lizzy was quite familiar with her husband’s need to shower her with gifts. It was a habit borne of his deep love for all those dearest to him; an expression established long before she entered his life. The logical conclusion was simply to accept it, but her nature would not allow her to ever be mercenary or greedy and, therefore, it was mildly uncomfortable. She glanced upon his glowing visage, much like a child with a secret, and could only say a silent prayer of thankfulness.

The box contained a book bound with fine calf leather dyed a deep blue with gold leaf etching along the spine. The pages inside were blank, the intent of which was unmistakably indicated by the gold emblazoned Alexander William George Bennet Darcy scrolled across the front cover.

Before Lizzy could find her voice, Darcy was kneeling with hands caressing over the exquisite binding. “It is a memory book. I saw something similar in Derby. I had this made by a bookbinding establishment in London that has restored numerous antique volumes I have purchased over the years. You can write your thoughts, facts as he grows, ink prints of his feet, memories of first words, when he walks, and anything else that comes to mind. Is it not a fabulous idea?”

“Darcy, this is marvelous!” It was Charles, face suffused with enthusiasm. “Where did you get it?” The new father and father-to-be launched into a discussion, Jane and Lizzy exchanging amused glances.

“William, thank you so much! It is a marvelous concept, keeping an itemized log, so to speak, of his transitions and growth. Will you write in it as well?”

“If you wish. My mother kept a similar journal for Georgie and me. I ran across them in the attic, having not thought on it for years.” His voice grew quiet, eyes far away for a spell as he stroked the embossed name of their son. “Such memories are priceless.” He cleared his throat gruffly with a slight shrug, voice firmer as he resumed. “The other gift accompanies and is the last, I promise. Merry Christmas, my love.”

It was a trunk of cedar, approximately three feet cubed with short legs, sturdily if plainly constructed with no embellishment other than “Alexander” carved in rough block letters across the lid. The sweet aroma of cedar pervaded the air, every eye lifting from individual unwrapping to observe the scene.

“Mother kept particular artifacts in a series of boxes, some that I discovered damaged. I did not want that to happen to Alexander’s favorite toy, first shoes, blanket, or anything else we deem worthy of keeping. So I built this…”

“You built it?” Caroline interrupted in astonishment, Darcy glancing to her face with a smile.

“I am quite skillful with my hands, Miss Bingley. Unfortunately, I do not have the talent for whittling or engraving as did my grandfather, so it is unadorned, but it will withstand the test of time and any pounding by a rowdy son! I thought it would fit nicely below the window in the nursery.”

“Absolutely! It is fantastic.” Lizzy raised one hand to lightly brush his cheek. “Thank you, William, again.”

“I do hope you kept the pattern, William, so you can create more. I think you will need an entire collection in due course.” George declared with a wink, Lizzy blushing but Darcy meeting his eyes boldly.

“Not a problem, Uncle. I have a very good memory.”

“I pray you are an adequate instructor as well, Darcy, as I want you to teach me how to construct a cedar box for our child. I have never worked with wood, so it shall be a challenge for you.” Charles looked at his friend with a grin.

“Really, Charles! Carpentry? Is not sheep farming and walnut harvesting enough manual labor for you? It is so, so… common!” Caroline was truly aghast.

Darcy’s mumbled and sarcastic thank you was lost behind Bingley’s reply, “Honestly, Caroline! It is not as if I pick the nuts myself or shovel manure. I manage an estate, and none of this has any bearing on desiring to construct a memory box for my firstborn.”

“Attaboy, Mr. Bingley!” George declared with a stunning clap to the younger man’s shoulder. “Artistic creativity is food for the brain! Keeps the nerve’s firing, eh, Mr. Bennet?”

“I cannot claim any particular skills with my hands, Dr. Darcy, but I do agree with the philosophy. Although, I have assisted in the mending of the fence a time or two and did apply saw and hammer to create a finely wrought birdhouse and feeder which yet graces the east garden.”

“Oh, I remember that!” Mary spoke up with a rare burst of enthusiasm. “I was but seven or so, Papa, and I recall you let each of us hammer a bit and Lizzy sawed. Jane, you carved the perches, is that not so?”

Jane was blushing, Charles gazing at her with pride. “It was a small thing really. I merely smoothed several branches. We all worked on it together. Even Lydia, who was barely four or five, was placed in charge of handing each nail.”

Lizzy and Kitty were smiling in memory. Caroline sniffed, “Well, I suppose such an endeavor could be amusing, in certain circumstances. Seems a trifle rustic to me. Artistry is one thing, but pounding wood strikes me as a menial chore destined for the working man.”

Darcy was stiff with indignation, hand tight on Lizzy’s shoulder. She caressed his white knuckles tenderly, opening her mouth to flash a retort, but was halted by her mother’s voice, “Of course, Miss Bingley, you have a point! I am certain the venture will not be a frequent activity for either Mr. Darcy or Mr. Bingley. Men of their fine stature and finances have no need to lower themselves to such base levels, naturally. Do not fret!”

“I am of the opinion that talent of all kind, whether it be musical or architectural or scientific or any of a million other realms are all gifts inspired of God and, therefore, to be acknowledged and pursued extensively, otherwise it is an insult to the Giver. As the Declaration penned by the founders of the Americas states, ‘all men are created equal, that they are endowed, by their Creator.’ No tasks are too menial or unnecessary, Miss Bingley.”

All in the room were staring with amazement at Mary, who had delivered this quietly voiced speech. The attitudes may have varied as to the veracity of her words, but all were momentarily speechless. Not surprisingly, it was Dr. Darcy who shattered the silence first with a raised cup of tea and ringing endorsement, “Here, here, Miss Bennet! Well said indeed. I’ll drink to that!”

The mood thus lightened, Lizzy turned to Richard, “Colonel, now that my husband has finally exhausted the gift giving, it would be an appropriate time to retrieve the package you assured me was in your safekeeping. If you please?”

Richard bowed formally. “As you wish, Mrs. Darcy. Pardon me a moment.” And with a brisk clap of his military boot heels, he pivoted and exited the room.

“Secrets, Mrs. Darcy?” Darcy asked with a raised brow.

“It is Christmas, my dear.”

“While we are waiting, Lizzy, this is from all of us Bennets. We pooled our resources.” Kitty placed a smallish, but heavy gift on her lap, stooping to kiss her cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

The wrapping hid a roughly cigar box–sized, highly glossed, cherry wood musical box! The glass panel in the ornately carved lid displayed the copper cylinder and shiny mechanical devices required to turn the cylinder and elicit the sounds. Lizzy gasped, hand instantly over her heart in awe and delighted expressions of thanks pouring forth. It was a stunning piece of workmanship, instantly drawing the attention of most in the room, especially the ever invention-fascinated Darcy.

“Incredible! Where did you acquire one so large and sporting a cylinder rather than disk, Mr. Bennet?” He was already lightly touching the internal springs and motor.

“One of the advantages to having a brother in trade,” he answered with a smile and nod toward Mr. Gardiner.

“I have an associate who deals with various Swiss manufacturers of timepieces. He occasionally acquires musical boxes as well. These are new, Mr. Darcy, created by Recordon and Jundon. This one plays a compilation of Mozart’s sonatas.”

“I have two musical snuff boxes purchased in Paris and London, one of which I gave to Elizabeth to listen while at her desk. I dismantled a third in an attempt to figure how it worked, failing miserably as I was unable to completely fathom the mechanics nor reassemble properly.” His voice dropped to a tone of inner musing as he intently investigated the visible parts, Lizzy playfully batting his hands away with a laugh.

“Get your own musical box to dissect, Mr. Darcy! This one is mine.”

He straightened with a faint blush. “Of course, dearest. I was merely looking.”

Several snickers erupted, Colonel Fitzwilliam returning to a room of polite twitters and flushed cousin. “What have you done now, Darcy?”

Darcy, however, had no response forthcoming. Rather, his gaze was riveted to the wooden case Richard held in both arms. It was well over five feet in length yet only a foot wide, which would have strongly hinted to Darcy what it contained even if it was not branded with the label Knopf Bros. of Shenandoah Valley, Virginia. His mouth fell open and immobility gripped all four extremities.

“How did you…?” He stopped, speechless.

Lizzy was grinning broadly, face rosy with delight as she jumped up to stand beside her paralyzed spouse. Placing one hand tenderly on his arm, she explained, “I know you have coveted one for your collection. Richard was able to acquire an original, dated 1786. I have yet to see it myself, not that I would know what I was inspecting, so I pray it meets your expectations. Open it!”

Richard laid the case onto the table, stepping back as Darcy approached with reverence. “This is unbelievable. I cannot thank you both enough.”

“I should have thought of it myself and claimed all the glory,” Richard said. “After all, years of immersing yourself in the journals of William Bartram and Jonathan Carver, as well as other American frontiersmen, and the undoubtedly embellished tales of Daniel Boone, should have enlightened me.”

Darcy had opened the case, nearly the entire room’s occupants now clustered about to watch, revealing a pristine condition rifle. But not just any rifle. A uniquely American invention of the 18th century frontiersman: a long rifle. This one sported a stock of beautifully grained wood, lacquered and decorated with silver and brass inlays fancily scrolled, the stamped and dated emblem of its makers, and a barrel easily four feet in length. Every surface, both wooden and metal, gleamed. It was exquisite.

Collectively, the men in the room, even Mr. Hurst who had left his vigil by the liquor cabinet, whistled in appreciative awe. The women, unschooled in the artistry of firearms, nonetheless could readily grasp the fine quality and sheer beauty of the displayed specimen.

Darcy grasped the weapon, lifting with steady and competent hands, as Richard continued his narrative. “This one reputedly has a range of nearly four hundred yards in the hands of an experienced marksman. You should be able to achieve that, Cousin, with practice.”

“Four hundred yards!” Mr. Bennet gasped. “I would love to see that!”

Colonel Fitzwilliam turned to the skeptical Mr. Bennet. “A general I know has a long rifle and has reached four hundred seventy yards. Of course, he is our regiment’s finest marksman, actually trained as a sharpshooter, but Darcy here is quite an excellent shot. An English Baker rifle can nearly attain that distance, but not as reliably. Nor are they as imposing in appearance or as beautifully designed. I daresay these American rifles are the most elaborate I have ever seen, as painful as that is to admit.”

Darcy’s eyes were glittering as he sighted down the barrel, stock end nestled flawlessly against his shoulder. “I do not know about four hundred yards, but I certainly will attempt it. The balance is excellent, weight perfect, and you are correct Richard, no English or German firearm compares. Damned Americans!”

“Do you like it then?” Lizzy asked teasingly. “I am sure Richard could get my money back.”

He lowered the weapon to his side, encircled his surprised wife’s waist, and drew her in for a firm kiss. “I love it almost as much as I love you. You keep your paws off my rifle and I shall leave your musical box unmolested. Agreed?” Lizzy nodded, several eruptions of laughter ensuing around the massed observers.

An hour later, all the gifts were finally unwrapped and organized in individual piles. The strewn papers and ribbons were discarded, and the satisfied Pemberley inhabitants relaxed as they awaited the call to dinner. Select items were inspected and shared with others while the men loitered in a knot around the corner table where the rifle case now sat. The rifle itself was passed from hand to hand, all delighting in the temporary joy of imagining firing the stupendous weapon at unsuspecting game. Darcy was already arranging a target session for the morrow, graciously offering to allow each man the opportunity to test his skill.

Jane sat next to Lizzy, admiring the locket lying on a pillowy cushion of velvet. “This truly is exquisite, Miss Darcy. You must whisper in Mr. Darcy’s ear to casually mention to my husband where it was purchased. I would dearly love one myself.”

Georgiana smiled. “I shall tell Mr. Bingley myself! It would make a perfect Christmas gift next year or perhaps for your birthday. The jeweler in Matlock, Mr. Ingalls, is quite excellent and reasonably priced compared to most found in Town. He has quite an extensive selection of lockets, in fact. I thought Lizzy would like this one,” she finished shyly.

“And you are absolutely correct, Georgie. I adore it! In fact, if it is not a bother, can you clasp it on for me? Fortunately, I did not take the time this morning to don a necklace. A fortuitous oversight on my part.”

The locket in question, a gift from Georgiana to her new sister, was of silver. In size it was only a half-inch diameter with a raised and exceptionally detailed picture on the lid of a sleeping infant in profile with tiny hands folded by his cheek. Georgiana had presented it with the humble suggestion of placing a lock of Alexander’s hair inside. Lizzy was still choked up and Darcy quite smug in that he knew of the gift before her, although hastening to clarify that it was entirely Georgiana’s idea and chosen without any input from him.

Not a soul was left wanting or dissatisfied. Lizzy played hostess, engaging and gregarious so that even Lady Annabella was drawn into frequent conversation and stilted laughter. Dinner was marvelous, a dozen courses served over nearly two hours as humor and conversation raged. The Master and Mistress sat at opposite ends of the long, elegantly adorned table sharing frequent warm gazes. The weather held fair if bitterly cold, permitting after dinner walks in the waning light. Early evening entertainment lapsed in the music room with a splendid array of instruments played and vocal ranges lifted to the delight of all. Alexander joined the group for a spell, awake and happily passed from embrace to embrace until eventually falling asleep in his grandfather’s arms.

It was late in the evening, music and singing issuing forth gaily, when Mr. Taylor circumspectly approached his Master and leaned for a whispered conference. Darcy’s face instantly tightened, lips a thin line as he nodded brusquely and rose, leaving the room without a word.

“How extraordinary!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “I thought Mr. Darcy’s former rudeness was extinguished with marital felicity.”

“Mother, please,” Lizzy said. “Remember that my husband manages a vast estate which occasionally requires problem solving of a serious nature. Papa, do you mind holding Alexander for a bit longer? Good. Excuse me please.” And with a nod toward the group in general, she followed her husband.

As suspected, he had removed to his study with Mr. Taylor and Mr. Keith and was standing before the desk where he sat scribbling on a piece of parchment, another lying by his left hand.

“Mr. Keith, I should be no more than a few days. These envelopes here”—he tapped a stack with the end of his pen—“are ready to post. These papers here are signed.” He tapped another pile. “Issue payment draughts as necessary, address and post. I will be staying at the Georgian as usual.”

“Very good, sir.” Mr. Keith replied.

“Mr. Taylor, alert Samuel to pack a small travel bag for me, then inform the stables to prepare Parsifal. I will depart within the hour.”

“Depart! Where?” Darcy glanced up in surprise, not aware Lizzy had entered the room.

“Derby,” he answered shortly, eyes returning to the parchment.

“William, it is already dark outside…”

“I am well aware of the time, Mrs. Darcy!” He snapped, eyes troubled and blazing as he glanced at her briefly. “Thank you, Mr. Taylor, Mr. Keith. Follow my orders. You are dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.” And with a bow both men left.

Lizzy stood in silence, embarrassed, angry, and worried. Darcy seemed to be ignoring her. She bit her lip, slowly stepping toward the desk. “William, what has happened?”

He sighed and melted at her tender tone, falling into his chair and running one hand through his hair. He closed his eyes and gesticulated to the left hand paper. “There was a fire today at my mill in Derby. Much has been destroyed, two men badly wounded, and three dead. Thankfully, as it was Christmas, most were home with their families,” he finished flatly.

Lizzy’s breath caught, eyes glazing with tears. “Oh, love! I am so sorry!” She crossed quickly, placing a hand onto his shoulder. The gesture woke Darcy from his stasis, and he stood up briskly and stepped past Lizzy impatiently.

“Thank you. I am afraid I must attend to the aftermath personally. I am sorry, Elizabeth, but there is no choice.”

“I understand, dearest, I truly do and would think less of you if you did not go. However, must you leave tonight? Traveling in the dark is not safe and I would worry so. Nothing can be accomplished until tomorrow in any case.”

“I have traveled in the dark many times before. I can be there in a few hours, attain information, and be on site at first light. Time is precious in situations such as these, Elizabeth.”

“William, please be reasonable…”

“There is nothing to discuss! It is my decision and I am in no mood to argue the matter.”

“At best you would arrive by eleven, far too late to do anything of consequence. I am merely asking you to stay safe with us tonight and leave at first light tomorrow. What difference can a few hours make? The damage has already been done, dearest.”

“I cannot stay here, laughing and amusing myself when people in my employ are suffering. It is unconscionable!”

“What is unconscionable is the possibility of injury while galloping full bore, as you would, on a dark and muddy road for two hours! What is unconscionable is that you would not rationally consider your safekeeping and the anxiety of your family!”

“I am an excellent rider, madam, as you know. Nothing will happen to me.”

“You can assure this, sir? You have the gift of foresight? How delightful it is to know this! Or is it that you are immortal and I was unaware? Whatever the case, thank you for explaining. By all means then, ride on! I shall return to our guests with a cheery heart knowing that I have no fear of surviving without you and raising our son fatherless!”

And with that ringing impeachment, she stormed from the room, slamming the door behind. Darcy stood rooted to the floor, furious, but also stricken by her horrifying allegation. Lizzy, meanwhile, was pulled up short five steps past the still reverberating door when she realized she did not know where to go. Lost in confusion with rage and terror warring, she did not readily note her father lurking in the hall several paces away.

“Lizzy?”

She started, glancing upward and instantly losing control at the sight of her concerned father and sleeping baby. With a choking sob, she spun about and dashed down the corridor to her parlor. Naturally, Mr. Bennet followed, laying Alexander down onto a settee and walking to where Lizzy leaned against the windowsill weeping. He stood silently, concerned, but he was not one who easily dealt with women’s hysterics despite, or probably because of, long years in a household with six women. Reverting to the simple comfort of patting her shoulder and uttering a sympathetic there, there, he waited.

Eventually, Lizzy calmed enough to relate the dilemma. Mr. Bennet offered no answers or advice, being of the mind that marital difficulties were of an intimate nature beyond parental purview. He had only one statement, convincingly presented.

“As painful as Mr. Darcy’s decision, Lizzy, it will be compounded if you do not talk to him prior to his departure. The affection you two have for each other is too great to easily endure days apart under misspoken words and emotional estrangement.”

In time, they left the parlor, Alexander beginning to stir in Lizzy’s arms, just as Darcy neared the music room. The lovers’ eyes met in the dim expanse between, Lizzy’s swollen, red, and filled with pain and Darcy’s dull and inscrutable. He bowed slightly, turning without a word into the music room. Lizzy and Mr. Bennet trailed, Darcy already addressing the assembly when they entered and halted by the doorway.

“Forgive my abrupt exodus a while ago. I regret I have received ill news from Derby necessitating an early retirement, as I must depart at first light tomorrow. Please, enjoy yourselves fully. All that Pemberley has to offer is at your immediate disposal. Your most excellent hostess will ensure your comfort. Good night.” Another bow, this one formally proffered, was followed by a stiff pivot and swift exit, not glancing at Lizzy or her father.

Alexander, to Lizzy’s relief, chose that moment to release a loud yell, providing a logical excuse to leave. She nursed him alone, Darcy not joining her as he had nearly every night since Alexander’s birth. When she later entered their bedchamber, dressed in a gauzy gown of blue, he stood by the far window gazing outward at the visible stars and pale moonlight.

Lizzy had had plenty of time to think. She knew he was likely still angry and riddled with grief and misplaced guilt over the mill disaster, yet she could not deny her own overwhelming relief at his decision to stay. Correct she may have been, but there was no sense of victory in the idea. Only one thing was certain: she loved him far too much to part on negative terms. Her father was accurate on that count.

Darcy did not hear her steps on the thick carpet, lost in reverie and contemplation of the stars. She said nothing, merely standing behind his left shoulder and absorbing his beloved profile until the drifting scent of lavender reached his nostrils. He turned, countenance composed as he leaned into the wall and stared at her mutely.

The moment stretched, Lizzy finally reaching one hand and laying it on his chest. “Thank you for staying.” She spoke in a bare whisper, breathing deeply before continuing in the face of his silence. “I know you are angry with me, perhaps rightfully so, but I am not sorry for anything I said if it induced you to stay. I too feel grief for the families afflicted, William, but I am not ashamed to confess my selfishness. I cannot bear the thought of anything happening to you. We need you; it is as simple as that,” she finished firmly.

She lifted her chin bravely, holding his indecipherable gaze. It had been over a year since she had last been the recipient of the unreadable Darcy stare and she did not like it. The urgent desire to wrap her arms around him was unbearably painful to resist.

When Darcy moved, it startled her. He cupped her face with sturdy hands, bending until he was inches away, voice hoarse as emotion abruptly surged over his features. “I absolutely hate it when you are right and I am wrong, Mrs. Darcy. Please try not to make a habit out of the tendency.” His mouth curled faintly in a soft smile, eyes tender as they engaged hers.

And then he kissed her hard, absolving sobs caught in both throats as bodies melted together. It continued for a long time, spirits meshing as breath was shared. Lizzy was crushed against every plane of his body, but she did not care. When they pulled apart it was out of necessity for deep respirations, neither letting go. Darcy drew her head under his chin, holding her as physically close as possible. She rubbed her cheek against the mildly rough hairs on his chest, warmth flooding even in the midst of the cool window embrasure.

“I love you so much, Fitzwilliam! I am so, so sorry!”

He released an enormous sigh. “So am I.”

Taking her by the hand, he led her to the bearskin rug, fur burnished amber in the firelight. Wordlessly, he removed his robe, bare skin reflecting the flames, and reached dexterous fingers to untie each ribbon of her robe and discard it unhurriedly. The sadness in his eyes tore at her soul. Always naked before her as he was to no one else, she had often seen the pain of grief both past and present in his eyes. It ripped her heart, but she understood now that it was who he was. Tomorrow, in Derby, he would be the man of strength and serene control; everyone looking to him for the answers that he would give without hesitation. Tonight, in the privacy of their bedchamber with his soul mate, he could relax.

He ran heated palms down her arms, goose pimples rising in the wake of his touch, clasping each hand and pulling her onto the rug. He sat propped on the mass of cushions, Lizzy in his arms with back nestled to his chest. He said nothing, staring into the flickering flames with cheek pressed against her temple. He made no move other than to tenderly caress slightly calloused fingertips over her shoulders and arms. When he did speak, his tone was low and anguished.

“Is it wrong to be so content when people I am responsible for are suffering?”

“There are always people suffering, everywhere and at all times. Do not all individuals, even in the midst of travails, deserve happiness as it comes to them?”

Silence. Then, “Do you think less of me if I confess there are times I want to run from it all, forget about being ‘Master of Pemberley’ and just live simply somewhere with you and Alexander? No responsibilities except to love you eternally and play with our children as a child myself?”

She turned in his arms, pushing unruly locks away from his troubled eyes and feathering over each feature. “How could I think less of you for being human?”

They made love then. Slowly, long into the night, comfort and peace attained in the rapturous expression of bonding and love.

Lizzy woke as the first rays of dim sunlight peeked through the curtains. Darcy, fully clothed in traveling attire, entered their chambers with a squalling son in his arms. He smiled sunnily at his wife as she sat up in the bed, breasts full and ready.

“He has no interest in silly faces or words of devotion. Your breasts take precedence each time, not that I cannot relate to the sentiment.”

He sat beside her as Alexander ravenously attacked the nipple, Lizzy wincing slightly. Infant placated, she peered into her husband’s face, reaching her free hand to cup his jaw. He kissed her palm, smiling with only a hint of lingering pain evident.

“I will miss you, Mrs. Darcy.”

“I know. And I you. Be careful, my heart, and return to us quickly. I love you.”

“I know,” he grinned. “Thank you, my Lizzy, for being my comfort. You are my life and I will return quickly.” He kissed her temple then bent to nibble Alexander’s toes and bestow tiny kisses to chubby feet and hands. Returning to Lizzy’s mouth, they kissed lingeringly. With a final brush over her lips with his thumb and repeated I love you, he rose.

She watched him walk to the door, back straight with figure flawlessly masculine and controlled. He turned and, after a blown kiss and airy wave, was gone.