Loving Mr. Darcy: Journeys Beyond Pemberley

Chapter Fifteen A Soiree of Surprises

Darcy woke late, confused and with heart pounding from a troublesome dream: He was bound to a post with thick ropes, unable to control any of his limbs, and having extreme difficulty inhaling deeply, with spasms pounding through his head and entire left side blazing. Meanwhile, his luscious wife performed an erotic, disrobing dance far across the room. His dream self was obscenely aroused, throbbing in agony with the need to join with her, yet he could not move and any effort to do so caused her to slip further away. The mingled torments of frustration, desire, and physical pain jolted him awake.

He was alone in their bed, sunlight streaming through the crack in the curtained window, marked physical arousal evident while his bound shoulder and arm weighed him down. “Elizabeth?” His voice cracked oddly with a note of hysteria, the unsettling dream still lingering about the edges of his consciousness and the combined pains a reality. “Elizabeth!” he called again, attempting awkwardly to rise without success. During the night, the carefully wrapped bandage had constricted further, preventing even the slightest mobility.

“Beloved, I am here,” she replied, her voice floating through the sitting room door mere moments before she entered bearing a coffee-laden tray. “Stay still, love. I will help you up.” Then she laughed at his appearance. “Apparently I was mistaken. You obviously need no assistance from me as you appear fairly ‘up’ already.”

“Most amusing, Mrs. Darcy. Suffering from grievous injuries and hideous nightmares, yet she teases me. What happened to the doctor's prescribed tender loving care?”

“If nightmares elicit this response, I cannot fathom what sensual dreams inspire.” She threw his robe off her shoulders, exposing her nakedness to greedy eyes with bed sheets fluttering from the response.

“Elizabeth, please do not toy with me! I need you, now!” Forcefully hurling the blanket aside so she could access his body, Lizzy straddled his thighs and attacked.

“Oh God!” he cried with an arch, moaning blissfully as his perfect wife worked magic. Quite adept after their months of experimenting with all aspects of lovemaking, Lizzy knew precisely how to stimulate her fabulous spouse. Her own passion escalated at the taste, aroma, sight, and sound of him. Even his fabric-swathed body with its lingering medicinal scent was insufficient to quench her excitement. It was crazy morning loving, their fiery passion rising to indescribable levels as Darcy's hurting miraculously dissolved.

All medicinal treatments unified over the following days, with Darcy healing rapidly as a young man vigorously in the bloom of health can do. He argued the prescribed trammeling of his arm fruitlessly but with minimal cogency, as the truth was it did help the pain.

The atmosphere inundating the house escalated dramatically with the arrival of George Darcy. His naturally extroverted and loquacious personality was on full display, heightened by the parade of visitors suddenly flooding the place in a desire to see him. Darcy attempted to concentrate on estate business, but rapidly gave up. He happily relinquished the endeavor for the time being in order to delight in his uncle's company.

The dinner party planned by the Darcys for the following evening was greatly anticipated. Darcy had sent a formal invitation to his Aunt Catherine and Anne, but had not received a reply. He and Lizzy had mixed emotions on their possible attendance, although primarily they discovered, to their mutual surprise, that they hoped for an appearance. Their desire was to place the rift in the past. Perhaps aspiring for a close relationship was misguided; however, they could seek relative peace.

Nonetheless, with the sudden addition of a gregarious and eccentric Uncle George, further speculation or worry over the de Bourgh situation was forgotten. Darcy hired an orchestra for an informal ball and ordered the polishing of the long disused ballroom until it gleamed from the hundreds of lights gracing the three chandeliers. Lizzy planned an exotic menu of unusual cuisines, augmented with enthusiasm by George and Dr. Penaflor, both of whom marched into the kitchen amid cries of dismay from the cook to whip up a couple Indian and Spanish dishes.

The guest list was small, or at least small compared to most London society soirees. Naturally, the Bingleys, Miss Bingley, the Gardiners, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Lord and Lady Matlock attended. Also invited were the Drurys, both Vernor couples, Miss Bertha Vernor, the Lathrops, Fitzherberts, Sitwells, and Hugheses. Darcy had added a few of his other close friends from Town, along with Mr. and Mrs. Andrew Daniels and Mr. Joshua Daniels.

The general reception was held in the ballroom, the foyer far too humble in size, with the orchestra playing softly in the background. Dr. Darcy and Dr. Penaflor stood next to Lizzy, Darcy, and Georgiana for easy introductions. Lord and Lady Matlock, as well as Richard, were delighted to see George again, it having been years. Lord Matlock and George had known each other all their lives and were rapidly engaged in reminiscences and storytelling, to the amusement of all.

Darcy was seriously annoyed at the insistence of his wife and uncle that his arm remain bound. This required, in his opinion, not only the ludicrous exhibition of his coat sleeve dangling emptily and the handicap of managing one-handed, but also the wearying certainty of repeating the tale of his injury endlessly. He argued to no avail, the two only relenting in loosening the bindings enough so that he had limited use of his hand.

His vexation was mitigated by the overall festive atmosphere, the beauty and vivaciousness of his wife, and his excitement at the surprise planned for his beloved Elizabeth. He gazed at her, dressed exquisitely in a new white and silver gown, face radiantly glowing with mirth and health as she greeted the Vernors. For Darcy, these events have always been painful. The need to create idle conversation compounded by the pressure of the spotlight on him as host had prevented him from organizing anything grander than intimate family gatherings since becoming Master. Now, with the unequaled perfection that was Elizabeth Darcy as Mistress, his joy and enthusiasm for parties and social activities of all kinds had drastically altered. The truly amazing aspect of it all was that many other women would have made delightful hostesses but none with the innocent honesty, true grace, and artless pleasure of Elizabeth. Darcy was so overwhelmingly proud that he felt near to bursting.

He stood quietly by her side, greeting friends and family in his usual reserved manner, but a soft smile danced over his lips, widening appreciable every time Elizabeth laughed, which was often, or met his eyes. They remained close to each other, frequently touching in sweet communion. Over her shoulder, as she spoke softly with Harriet Vernor, Darcy noticed the Gardiners entering. His grin spread and he lightly caressed the small of her back.

“Dearest, your aunt and uncle have arrived.”

Lizzy turned with a ready smile on her face, a smile that was instantly replaced by a dropped jaw and widened eyes. Darcy was laughing at her pleased astonishment, Lizzy pivoting for a quick embrace and kiss and whispered I love you before twirling about to dash into the arms of her father.

“Papa! I cannot believe it… Mama!” The wonderment multiplied by the sight of her mother's stupefied countenance as she peered about the ornate room from behind her husband. Lizzy embraced her goggle-eyed mother. Mrs. Bennet had not yet seen any of the Darcy homes and was clearly speechlessly impressed. Mr. Bennet had visited Darcy House during his daughter's engagement, remembering the library with special fondness, yet was amazed anew at the glittering opulence of the ballroom and surrounds. His amazement was increased by the casual elegance of his second daughter and the improved appearances of both Kitty and Mary, who were now approaching for hugs and kisses.

He gazed over his daughters, Jane and Mr. Bingley crossing the room as well, and addressed Lizzy, “Your husband bribed me with unfettered access to his library and port, so how could I refuse.” He winked at Darcy. “Your mother needed only to hear the word ‘shopping’ and she was compliant. Quite the shindig, Lizzy. I am duly impressed.”

“Perhaps, Papa, I can induce you to dance with me? As you can see, my usual dancing partner is crippled and you appear dressed for the occasion,” Lizzy teased with a tug on his jacket.

Mr. Bennet, in fact, was dandified in a new suit tailored in the latest fashion, although he had refused long trousers clinging stubbornly to the familiarity of knee breeches. Lizzy had never in her life seen him dressed so finely. “I shall consider the matter, Lizzy. If I dance with you, I will likely be required to extend the courtesy to Jane, Kitty, your mother, and Mary, the last of which will probably make this young man irritated.”

His amused eyes lit on Mr. Daniels, who was trailing Mary about as if physically tied to her. Of course, it was understandable to some degree, as Mary was stunning. Kitty and Georgiana had sufficiently nagged until Mary exhaustedly relented and agreed to wear the purple gown with woven wisteria. Mr. Daniels's eyes had literally bulged when he saw her, and the two were since inseparable. If Mary was in any way disturbed by his attention, it did not show. In fact, she was radiant, blushing prettily at her father's reference.

Introductions were extended all around, the flamboyant Dr. George Darcy joining the fray. Mr. Daniels boldly enforced his acquaintance on both Bennet parents, snatching at the fortuitous circumstance. The hubbub around the doorway was convivial and rowdy; therefore, it was several minutes before anyone noticed the newest arrivals.

“Lady Catherine de Bourgh! What a delightful surprise.” Dr. Darcy's booming voice ruptured the tumult, silence descending suddenly as nearly every eye jerked to George and then the door. Lady Catherine stood placidly under the glare, Anne meekly at her side with head slightly drooping. Darcy immediately placed a hand onto the small of Lizzy's back, jointly stepped forward without hesitation to sequester the new arrivals near the elaborate lintel. He bowed regally before his aunt and cousin, Elizabeth at his side with an elegant curtsey.

“Lady Catherine, Miss de Bourgh. Welcome to Darcy House. Mrs. Darcy and I are pleased you have come.” Darcy paused, waiting patiently for her acknowledgement.

“Fitzwilliam, thank you for the invitation. Darcy House is lovely. Reminiscent of the days when your dear mother was Mistress.” She turned toward Lizzy, inclining her head. “I esteem the manor responds positively to having a woman in residence. Mrs. Darcy, I am willing to accept that my prior opinions were hastily reached, and perhaps I should apportion the time to amend this oversight now.”

“‘Perhaps,’ Aunt Catherine?” Darcy said with a cold inflection and scowl, his free hand possessively about Elizabeth's waist.

“Fitzwilliam, you stated as much yourself, accusing me of not allotting the former Miss Bennet the opportunity to prove herself to me. In this you are correct and I confess to this being a fault on my part. Mrs. Darcy she may now be, and I do recognize this as an unalterable fact, yet should I not be given the chance to form my own opinion of your wife? Even if it is arrived at late and after extreme errors in my conduct?”

Darcy was glowering, not at all certain he wished to be reasonable when it came to any action remotely demeaning or judgmental on his wife. Lizzy sensed his rising irritation and spoke first. “Lady Catherine, Mr. Darcy and I wish to end this dispute and heal the rift. We are willing to bend to a degree. This invitation to our home was in an effort to accomplish this, and we are pleased you are here. If you feel you need to observe me to ease your heart, then do so with my blessing. However, I pray you do fully understand that your opinion ultimately matters naught to either of us.”

“Furthermore, Aunt, your assaults on Elizabeth demand an apology which should be rendered, regardless of what your estimation of her may be. In addition, although I cannot fathom an opinion of my wife less than enthusiastically favorable, I will not tolerate a negative word uttered in this house. In that incomprehensible event, you will be escorted out and never welcomed again. Are we clear?”

“Perfectly, Fitzwilliam. Mrs. Darcy, I do apologize for my behavior both recently and in the past. I will not attempt to offer excuses and only pray you will forgive me.”

Lizzy nodded. “Very well, Lady Catherine. Let us start fresh. Welcome to Darcy House.” She glanced past her to Anne and curtseyed politely. “Miss de Bourgh, it is wonderful to see you again. William speaks so fondly of you, and I am overjoyed to have the opportunity to enhance our relationship.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Darcy.” Anne smiled shyly, glancing timidly at the array of bodies in the room. At the initial greetings, most in the ballroom had moved away, busily diverting their attention from the drama unfolding at the door. Lord Matlock and Colonel Fitzwilliam stood nearby, as did Dr. Darcy and Mr. Bennet. Lord Matlock smoothly apprehended his sister, with Colonel Fitzwilliam offering an arm to Anne, both men steering them away and performing the task of introductions.

“Interesting family intrigue,” George stated with a chuckle. “One of the disadvantages of living a continent away is all the fun interpersonal dynamics one misses. Lady Catherine has always been fodder for a laugh or two.” He breathed deeply and patted his chest with both hands, smiling broadly. “All I need now is food and dancing with a beautiful woman or two and life will be complete! Come, Mr. Bennet, let us see what we can scare up.” Laughing, the gentlemen moved away, leaving Lizzy and Darcy in relative solitude.

Darcy was gazing intently into his wife's face, tenderly cupping her cheek while running his thumb over her smiling lips. “You were brilliant, my love. Are you well?”

Lizzy's smile widened. “I am perfect.” She kissed his palm, encircling his neck with both hands and rising on tiptoes to brush his lips. “I have you. How could I be anything else? Now come, we have other guests to attend to. I am rather enjoying being Mistress!”

Darcy laughed, leaning for a kiss to her temple. “You should enjoy it since you are quite adept, as I knew you would be. I love you, you know?”

“I love you too, William.”

Arm in arm, they rejoined their guests. Gerald and Harriet Vernor were talking with Stephen and Amelia Lathrop. Amelia was fast approaching the final two months of her pregnancy and planned to return to Leicestershire on the morrow for the remainder of her confinement. Lizzy was already saddened, especially knowing that with her own condition advancing, it would likely be months before they saw each other.

“Ah, Darcy! Excellent timing,” Gerald Vernor said. “The ladies insist on discussing birth and infancy related topics. Lathrop and I are turning green over here, so rescue us before they move on to the riveting issue of swaddling cloths.”

“Yes, by all means,” Lizzy replied with an impish smile and wave of her hand, “move away, feeble men, and discuss something delicate such as hunting or boxing.” Darcy and Lathrop blushed but Vernor winked, guiding the two toward another knot of men seemingly centered on an effervescent George Darcy.

The orchestra struck up a lively dance tune, the floor taken by several couples. Mary and Mr. Daniels, not surprisingly, were accompanied by the Hugheses, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Bertha, several others, and, to Lizzy's amazed curiosity, Anne de Bourgh and Dr. Raul Penaflor. Lady Catherine sat beside Lord and Lady Matlock, scowlingly observing her daughter.

The mystery of Anne de Bourgh had, in all honesty, not overly interested Lizzy. Her stay in Kent had offered her few opportunities to talk to Anne, only enough to arrive at the conclusion that the sickly young woman was polite but rather timid. Darcy spoke fondly of his cousin, mostly regarding their childhood antics. Lizzy gathered that Anne had been healthy as a youth, or at least Darcy intimated so. Lizzy had no idea what the illness was that rendered Anne pale and listless. Suddenly, Lizzy felt shame for not having taken the initiative to inquire as to the history involving Darcy's cousin, but any mention of the name “de Bourgh” educed the infamous Darcy glower.

She observed her now with inquisitiveness. Anne wore a dark green gown of an older style that completely covered every inch of her skin, only her bloodless, pinched face visible. She was pretty, with a slim figure, lovely brown eyes, and curly black hair. Her pallor was a sharp contrast to the dusky-hued Dr. Penaflor. Little in the way of words was exchanged as they danced. Surprisingly, the frail Anne managed the dance easily and with a natural grace. A faint flush rose on her cheeks, although whether from the exertion or touch of her partner Lizzy could not ascertain. When the dance ended, Dr. Penaflor escorted Anne to her mother's side, bowing with cultured finesse and brushing her fingers with his lips. Lady Catherine glared, though the physician remained unperturbed as evidenced by the dazzling smile sent her way before he retreated.

Lizzy hid a laugh as she meandered through the room, engaging her guests in easy conversation, eventually reaching Darcy's side. He stood with his Uncle George, Richard, and Lizzy's parents. Dr. Penaflor was now dancing with Kitty.

Lizzy linked arms with her spouse but addressed the doctor. “Your friend is apparently intent on squiring each young maiden in the room, Dr. Darcy.”

George laughed. “Yes, that would be Raja. Raised with courtly manners, he would deem it his duty. Although I judge his interest in Miss de Bourgh is primarily professional.”

“What do you mean, Uncle?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “One of the side effects of being a diagnostician. We never can fully push our instincts aside. We were both curiously discussing what treatment she is on for her anemia. Do you know, William?”

Darcy, however, was staring at him in total bafflement. “I fear, Uncle, I do not understand. The physician my aunt employs has determined it to be a heart condition.”

Dr. Darcy raised a brow, apparently an inherited Darcy gesture when perplexed. “A heart condition? That seems unlikely. Of course, I would need to examine her fully to be certain, but she is pale, not cyanotic or breathless, nor is there obvious evidence of edema.” He was frowning as he muttered, studying Anne as she sat across the room, fingers twitching over his lips.

Lizzy found the whole episode intriguing, not only Dr. Darcy's unconscious gesticulations so akin to her husband's, but also the references to Anne's affliction. Darcy was watching his uncle with interest and a glimmer of hope.

“I have long encouraged Aunt Catherine to seek an alternate opinion. Do you think you could help her, Uncle George?”

Dr. Darcy shrugged. “I know of several tonics as well as natural remedies for anemia, if that is her ailment. Heart diseases are difficult. Far too many variables. I have seen some success with the distillation of digitalis. Hmmm… The question is your Aunt Catherine. She never cared for me. I am too outrageous and improper,” he declared in Lizzy's direction with a grin. “You are not the first to earn her disfavor, my dear.”

“How comforting,” Lizzy murmured sarcastically.

“Dr. Darcy, pardon me, but what did you mean by Dr. Penaflor raised with courtly manners?” Mrs. Bennet asked, a keen glint in her eyes.

“Raul Penaflor, Mrs. Bennet, is the third son of a Spanish Duke, and his mother is one of many royal sisters to King Ferdinand. It is all rather a jumble of intermarriage intrigue that exhausts me, frankly.”

Mrs. Bennet's eyes had opened widely, and she was peering at Kitty and Dr. Penaflor as they completed their dance with unveiled calculation. Lizzy coughed a laugh, turning slightly to hide her face into Darcy's sleeve as Mrs. Bennet continued. “How very interesting! Has he a grand inheritance then? Or perhaps a family income?”

Dr. Darcy smiled innocently at Mrs. Bennet. “They have not disowned him, Mrs. Bennet, if that information profits you. Raja, however, is apathetic regarding his lineage and rank. I tease and call him ‘raja,’ which is prince in Hindi, yet he is indifferent. Healing is all that truly matters to him.”

Mrs. Bennet was obviously saddened at the news and chose to ignore Dr. Penaflor thereafter. The evening progressed with all in attendance enjoying themselves immensely. Lizzy danced twice, once with Colonel Fitzwilliam and then with George Darcy. Primarily, she stood happily by her husband, the two randomly conversing with all guests equally. Occasionally, she sensed Aunt Catherine's eyes boring into her, but essentially, she ignored the woman, far too delighted in the evening's gaiety to be irritated. Darcy was in a felicitous mood, smiling incessantly and laughing often. Even his trifling annoyance at his bound arm was insufficient to dampen his spirits.

Dinner was a success, Aunt Catherine and a couple others the only members to express repugnance at the exotic cuisines. Lizzy sat to Darcy's right, ready to assist him if necessary, but he managed proficiently without moving his left arm beyond the proscribed degrees. Lizzy had quickly rearranged the seating assignment so that Anne de Bourgh sat next to Dr. Raul Penaflor and quite far from her mother. She also rapidly ensured that her parents sat close to Mary and the Daniels family. Lady Catherine sat on the far side of Lord and Lady Matlock, near Darcy and Elizabeth. This, too, was on purpose. If Lady Catherine wished to “observe” Lizzy, then she would encourage the action.

All in all, it was a lively gathering. Food and wine flowed in abundance, the entire meal lasting several hours. Lizzy was amused to note Lady Catherine ingesting a vast quantity of red wine, becoming cheerful and borderline animated as the meal progressed. The Darcys shared many an entertaining glance and whispered comment, not to mention the typical loving touches that were now so natural and essential to their existence that they hardly noticed them any longer.

The largest shock of the evening came as they said their farewells to their guests. Lady Catherine approached with a shyly smiling Anne. She was a bit unsteady on her feet, yet appeared in control of her faculties when she grasped Elizabeth's hands. Peering intently into Lizzy's eyes, she spoke clearly, “Mrs. Darcy. I regret my prior actions. I may not fully approve of how Fitzwilliam went about choosing his bride, but I can no longer deny his… affection for you and yours for him. He is happy. Any fool can see that. Tonight's event has proven to me conclusively not only this fact, but also your excellence as Mistress. Thank you for the invitation. Understand that you are always welcome at Rosings Park.”

Finally alone, weary yet jubilant, Lizzy sat astride Darcy's lap as she firmly massaged the medicinal ointment into his shoulder. They talked quietly, comparing notes and laughing in remembrance. Darcy endured the massage, expressing clearly how he intended for the evening to end.

“How am I ever to manage fulfilling my nursing duties each night if you distract me so, Mr. Darcy?”

“Am I distracting you, beloved? So very sorry. Perhaps you should give me what I want so I shall no longer disturb you so.” His muffled voice rose from the vicinity of her bosom.

“Fitzwilliam,” she began hoarsely, grip faltering yet again.

He pulled her into his chest, kissing lustily as he rolled to the side with her pinned beneath his body. “Such an excellent Mistress as you, Mrs. Darcy, deserves to be rewarded in a most satisfying way. I believe I know exactly what you shall find most satisfying.”

Lizzy gasped in pleasure, yet attempted one last time to forestall his raging amorousness, “William, we should at least bind your arm…”

“Damn my arm! I love you, Elizabeth, and I have wanted you all evening. No longer shall I wait to love you, my wife, my heart and soul. Kiss me, my Lizzy!”

She did, wholeheartedly. They loved blissfully and, indeed, most satisfyingly.