Loving Mr. Darcy: Journeys Beyond Pemberley

Chapter Nineteen A Picnic at Rowan Lake

Lizzy woke the following day—the day before the Summer Festival—earlier than she normally would have, although it was well after the dawning sun had rose enough to blaze through the cracks in the curtains. Darcy was soundly asleep, which was unusual at this late hour, but he had been a busy man yesterday. Upon returning to the parlor from the nursery, Lizzy and Darcy discovered Bingley returned from the Hasberry Estate and clustered with the men around the liquor cabinet, all of them sipping slowly on small tumblers of whiskey. Colonel Fitzwilliam suggested riding for a spell before dinner and the idea was greeted with enthusiasm, the men simply waiting for Darcy's reappearance. Therefore, Darcy shortly found himself again on Parsifal's back—not that he was in the least dismayed—and exercising for another two hours, albeit not as vigorously as his morning horseback excursion. Between his long day of riding, working on the cradle, managing Pemberley affairs in his study, and the evening in the game room with the gents, he was exhausted when finally crawling into bed beside his slumbering wife.

Now, he lay slightly curled next to Lizzy, clutching her arm and hand with hot breath tickling her neck and shoulder. It was the combination of his radiant warmth seeping into her skin and the fact that his head and shoulders were painfully trapping her hair that woke her. Darcy was a furnace while sleeping, a delight in the winter but rather annoying at times in the summer, especially lately as Lizzy noted her own internal temperature rising. The book said this was a common occurrence while pregnant, but it certainly made sleeping next to an inferno intent on snuggling difficult. Body dripping with sweat, Lizzy realized that she had been subconsciously attempting to pull away from her husband but could not due to the bulk of her long tresses being secured under the mass of muscular flesh comprising his torso.

As usual, he had thrown all the covers off his body, unknowingly landing them on top of his wife, adding to her burning distress. Lizzy rapidly discarded the coverlet, baring her flesh to the slightly cooler air of the room. It helped a little, and as long as she did not move away, her hair did not pull her scalp. With no real choice in the matter, Lizzy turned toward her comatose spouse, gently grabbed a shoulder, and shoved. He rolled onto his back with a grunt, mumbled something unintelligible, sighed deeply, and remained asleep. Finally free, Lizzy dashed to the windows and opened them wide.

She stood naked in front of the last window, allowing the cool breeze from the hills to wave over her skin, drying the perspiration, and lowering her temperature. The first few times she had seen her husband—who had not the slightest embarrassment about baring his flesh in the privacy of his quarters—positioned in front of the open window gazing at the landscape, Lizzy had blanched in shock. Darcy had laughed at her scolding, reminding her that, at three complete stories above the ground on this side and no other buildings in sight, a peeper would be in plain view on the field below and need binoculars to see into the window.

Long over her trepidation, Lizzy leaned against the edge and fingered the white chiffon curtain as her mind wandered. The Festival was tomorrow and all the plans were laid. Today the additional workers would be arriving to prepare the feast and begin setting up the pavilions, tables, and orchestra stand. Later today the musicians and other performers would be descending. In light of the chaos that would reign throughout the day, all of which would be handled skillfully by the Pemberley staff, Lizzy decided that it would be wise and fun to vacate the premises. Therefore, she had planned a picnic.

Lost to her musings, Lizzy did not mark Darcy rotating toward her side of the bed and reaching. His hands pressed into the hollow formed by her head and body, mumbling sleepily as he roused. Yawning and opening his eyes groggily, he spied his wife poised majestically by the near window. His breath caught and groin jerked at her sumptuous beauty.

“Elizabeth?” He rose onto one elbow as she turned her head with a ready smile. “Are you well?”

“I am fine, dearest. Merely soothing my scorching skin, thanks to my own personal heater.”

He extended his arm, palm up “Come back to bed. I shall only heat you further in a pleasant manner.”

Lizzy laughed, launching onto the bed as an exuberant child, Darcy instinctively adducting his limbs to protect sensitive regions. She attacked his ticklish sides briefly, but he need not worry overly as his wife was exceedingly cognizant of all his delicate areas and had no intention of harming him. Instead, she stretched next to him, kissing over his chest as she rolled him onto his back. Arms crossed above his nipple line, Lizzy rested her chin on his arms and happily stared into his face as he played with her hair.

“Mr. Darcy,” she began, Darcy raising one brow at her form of address, “I hereby challenge you to a game of croquet during today's outing. Are you up to a beating?”

“It is my duty to inform you, Mrs. Darcy, that I am quite skilled at croquet. I would hate to humiliate my wife in front of all our guests, but I cannot back down from a challenge once extended.”

“We shall see,” she smugly rendered, directing her focus to the nearest nipple, Darcy sighing happily. She tantalized with lips and tongue all about his hard chest, croquet challenges rapidly forgotten by both. Rising eventually, she straddled his thighs, bending over to caress further along his muscles. Darcy stroked her smooth skin wherever he could reach, as aroused by the feel of her body under his hands as by her actions.

Lizzy stimulated him unhurriedly, always moved by the impression of his flesh touching hers. The pulsating power and raging heat of him pressed against the swell of her belly was a beautiful reminder of his strength and desire for her. Frequently their eyes met between their studied gazes that cherished the body of the other, his dark with passion and hers smoldering, both rimmed with unbridled love. She lightly fondled, Darcy groaning with eyes closing in sheer ecstasy, hands stroking her inner thighs.

“Elizabeth,” he whispered with a throaty rumble. “Lord, that feels good. Please do not stop.” She obeyed, rousing him further and further, Darcy reciprocating until they were both overcome.

He crazily seized her face, pulling roughly and engulfing her mouth in a penetrating kiss.

They held each other securely, stroking tenderly as they calmed. Darcy murmured sweet, loving endearments into her ears as he kissed over her face. In what was becoming a typical conclusion to their lovemaking, the baby expressed his thoughts on the subject by flipping about, easily sensed by his parents as their bodies were pressed harshly together. Lizzy giggled against his lips as the sensation felt mildly ticklish. Darcy's eyes were sparkling with mirth, the perception a bit ticklish to him as well, but primarily it was joy. Joy for this woman whom he loved so profoundly and with a greater depth each day, and joy for the healthy life created by their love and passion.

Darcy smoothed her hair, asking in a soft voice, “Is it at all uncomfortable having the child between us?”

“Not yet, although I imagine there will come a time when we will necessarily need to alter our positions. I will grow quite large in the midsection. Are you prepared, my heart, for how distended I shall become?”

He smiled and kissed her brow. “I am anxious. Then he will be readily felt and we will be closer to the moment when we can hold him. As for your midsection or any other part of your glorious body, I shall forever adore you and find you beautiful. Have no fear, precious wife, you excite me even if all I see are your toes!” Lizzy smiled with pleasure at his devotion, laughter bubbling over as he continued, “Allow me to amend that slightly. I become embarrassingly aroused merely at the thought of you. Be thankful you do not have the physical ramifications as I, since I know you are as lecherous!”

“Uncle George, may I disturb your peace for a spell?”

Dr. Darcy looked up from the enormous leather chair, where he was sprawled with one leg draped over an arm, into the earnest face of his nephew. George was reading in the library, escaping the picnic and festival clamoring that had invaded the hallways, reclining on Darcy's favorite chair primarily due to the fact that it was the one most accommodating for tall frames. Darcy was holding a rather large book clasped to his chest, the title hidden, although whether on purpose or accidentally George could not be sure.

“Of course, William. You are always welcome. How can I help you?”

Darcy dragged a chair close to his uncle, sitting and placing the book onto his lap, giving Dr. Darcy an opportunity to read the title. With a raised brow and crooked smile, he answered his own inquiry, “Ah, I see. Honestly, William, you are the married one not I, although I do have some limited experience and will happily assist if you need. Or is it pregnancy-related concerns you have?” His grin widened at Darcy's expression of amused disgust.

The book Darcy held was the medical text, boldly emblazoned with the title: The Compleat Cyclopaedia of Midwifery and Reproduction. “The latter, Uncle, thank you,” Darcy replied sarcastically. “Elizabeth and I were talking after the whole skin-stretching scare,” he paused for a brief shudder before continuing, “and we realized that this book, which has been our primary resource for pregnancy information, may be lacking. We do not want to be unprepared for any eventuality, especially those details which are apparently so common as to not warrant entry into the text. You are our best asset.”

Dr. Darcy nodded seriously, all traces of humor receding. “This is wise. You know you can always count on me, son.” He smiled. “You know, William, I must applaud your enthusiasm and interest. It is the rare man who deigns to partake in matters generally deemed totally female issues. It warms my heart.”

Darcy waved his hand dismissively and flushed slightly, but he met his uncle's direct gaze with equal intensity. “Thank you, sir; it is not a tribute to my character, but rather to the rare woman I have been gifted. Someone as special as Elizabeth deserves a husband who will support her in all ways.”

“I will not argue your wife's stellar attributes, as I wholeheartedly agree with you, but do not sell yourself short.” He undraped his legs from the chair and sat up straight, leaning toward Darcy. “William, I have not been so fortunate as to find love to the degree as you have and James before you, but I do have a vast amount of experience with families and their interpersonal relationships. When one primarily encounters a family at their worst, suffering from disease or loss, one quickly notices what sets the successful, adjusted, and therefore capable of surviving trauma families apart from those who will fall to pieces. Always it is a deep devotion among the members, whether it parents or siblings or spouses. This devotion translates into the realm of childbirth as well. Those women who have strong support will manage far more capably then those who are alone or unloved. Elizabeth is blessed to have you there for her.”

“That is why it essential for me to know all I can about this process. I have seen hundreds of animal births and have a fairly firm knowledge base of human anatomy, but the books all seem vague regarding the details.”

Dr. Darcy nodded. “Yes, most would, although I daresay I could acquire a newer text than the one you hold and more comprehensive. Unfortunately, birth, as I said, is considered a female issue relegated to midwives and therefore deemed unworthy of a physician's attention, hence the lack of textual information. Personally, I believe the tide is turning on all matters sexual, and a revolution of enlightenment is approaching, but that is for another discussion. As for me, I do have superior knowledge in the field, having delivered hundreds of babies. Indian women prefer their dais, their term for midwife, but often one is not about or trouble arises and a doctor is called for. Also, the English women will not allow an Indian dai to attend their birth, usually, so if I am around, I get summoned!”

“Is birth truly as horrible as one hears? Horses, for the most part, birth so easily with rare complications. Humans seem to suffer profoundly and frequently…” He looked at his uncle with undisguised fear. “If anything happened to Elizabeth, I…”

“She is young and healthy, William, so I am sure all will be well.” He patted his nephew's trembling knee comfortingly. “Women in childbirth seem to fall into three basic categories. There are those who pass through the entire process with ease. This seems to be a combination of an innate control and an effortless, relatively pain free labor. They are the lucky ones. The worst are the women who fight the process, scream and thrash uncontrollably no matter what we do or say. Often the labors are not actually that horrible, but their lack of control and serenity create an atmosphere of intense stress, frequently leading to a negative outcome. Most fall into the middle category. Labor is so named because it is arduous and painful. There is no escaping the fact, but there are ways to control it and smooth the procedure.”

Darcy leaned forward, listening avidly. “What ways?”

“Breathing techniques, focus, meditation, positions, and the like. However, the one essential is loving support. I cannot stress enough how vital it is for the mother to be surrounded by calming, strong, devoted presences.”

Darcy sat back with a heavy sigh, mumbling sadly, “I wish I could be there with her.”

“Why can you not? You are the one she loves the greatest. You have the premiere relationship with her so should be there if she needs you.”

Darcy was staring at his uncle with stunned amazement. “You cannot be serious? Men are not allowed in birth rooms, Uncle!”

Dr. Darcy laughed, reaching into his coat pocket for a cigar. “I know you tend to be a stickler for the rules, William, but it is not a law from the Crown after all. You are the Master of the house and if your wife needs you, I judge you will rise to the occasion.” He lit the cigar, inhaling leisurely while watching Darcy's contemplative mien. “In the meantime, let us open that book and see what wisdom is imparted. Just promise me you will not blush every time the word vagina or penis or breast appears, alright?” He grinned and Darcy blushed.

It was close to noon before Lizzy was lovingly persuaded by her husband to relinquish the Festival management into the proficient hands of Mrs. Reynolds and the rest. Yesterday the thought of evacuating the house had appealed to Lizzy. Today, with workers arriving, wagons by the dozens rolling up to the side entrance, performers appearing, decorating and construction visibly transpiring, Lizzy experienced an internal sense of abandoning her duties. Only Darcy's gentle reminder that this is precisely the job of the commander, to delegate the responsibilities to his or her subordinates and trust that they will competently execute the tasks, finally swayed her. He certainly had no doubts regarding the adequacy of the Pemberley staff and his assurance in the end eased Lizzy.

Tightly packed into three open carriages with baskets, blankets, croquet and other game equipment, fishing poles, and a few miscellaneous necessities about their feet, the current inhabitants of Pemberley set off. Humor was high. Picnics always have a mysterious influence on folks, creating a carefree, childlike exuberance nearly impossible to resist. Lizzy was especially excited, as they were journeying along a thin track through the forest that led to a hidden lake and grassy knoll some three miles into Pemberley lands. She had never visited this part of the estate, as many of Darcy's planned excursions with his wife for spring having been postponed due to her accident.

The half-hour journey was delightful all by itself. Lizzy sat next to Darcy, who drove the open buggy, with Kitty and Georgiana seated in back. George Darcy commandeered the second vehicle with Anne de Bourgh and Dr. Penaflor. The last was steered by Richard with Jane, Charles, and Caroline Bingley. The narrow wagon trail was primarily utilized by the Pemberley huntsmen, so was rough, steep in places, and minimally maintained. Nonetheless, the terrain traversed was beautiful, counteracting the discomfort, at least as far as Lizzy was concerned. The vast forest looming to the east of the Manor covered miles upon miles, stretching far beyond the boundaries of Pemberley. Aside from the fringes, which formed the hidden grotto behind the Greek Temple, Lizzy had entered none of the wooded acreage.

The majority of the trees were species of oak with the random Scots pine, birch, rowan, and ash, many covered with a blanket of lichen and moss. Ground flora was thick in most places with a smattering of wildflowers, bluebells, rhododendrons, ivy, and ferns amongst the numerous shrubs. They halted at an extensive wild blackberry thicket, picking a bucket of dark berries for a later treat. The trees were dense in patches, impenetrable to the view beyond. Other stretches were sparse, allowing one to see for great distances, the grove extending for miles. The air was far cooler under the canopy of branches and leaves, smelling sweetly of fresh blooms, musky earth, and moldering wood. Twitters and warbles of varied birds were audible, mingled with the occasional scurry of small woodland creatures. At one point they stopped suddenly to allow a family of deer to cross the trail, and twice startled a fox. Darcy, the hawk-eyed hunter that he was, managed to efficiently drive and point to about two dozen game fowl and several rabbits, most of which the women did not see.

Passing by sundry divergent horse paths, the main track finally exited the edge of the wood, disappearing into a grass and clover carpeted meadow surrounding a generous sized, sandy-shored lake. Lizzy caught her breath, standing up without thinking and then grabbing her husband's arm to avoid tumbling onto the grass when he halted the carriage. Recovering instantly, she jumped out with a squeal of delight.

“William, it is so beautiful!”

Darcy previously told her the lake was named Rowan Lake, which she had rightfully assumed referred to the tree. What she had not understood was exactly why. There was a scattering of ash, birch, and oaks about the edges of the lake as the forest completely encompassed the area. Two enormous, ancient oaks dotted the meadow and provided essential shade. However, the rowan was preeminent. Furthermore, midway along the right hand shore an isthmus of pebbly sand connected to a small island roughly in the middle of the lake. The island boasted huge moss-covered boulders amid which grew a dozen rowan trees, currently bursting with white flowers and bright red berries. Beyond the isthmus, a score of tiny babbling creeks exited the rocky edges of the forest, forming a tributary that fed the lake.

The carriages were halted at the border, occupants disembarking with expressions of delight. Darcy, heart slowly returning to its regular rhythm after the near mishap of his childlike bride, felt a swell of pride. Naturally, he personally had nothing to do with the beauty around them, was simply lucky enough to be born into the Darcy family. Nonetheless, he adored sharing the wonders of their home with his wife. He lightly encircled her waist, leaning for a kiss to her temple.

“Dearest, it is breathtaking. Thank you for thinking of this spot for our picnic. Are there many more such areas in Pemberley?”

“Nothing quite like this. There are some unusual rock formations, small streams with fishing holes, terrain beautiful for its ruggedness or particular vegetation, and there are two areas with caves and caverns. One is within walking distance of this place, along that trail there,” he said as he pointed to a barely discernible path to the right.

“Can we walk there later? I have never seen a true cavern before.” Her eyes were shining; the consummate lover of nature and the outdoors inflamed at the idea of new adventures.

Darcy chuckled. “Perhaps, if you feel up to it. I am not sure the exploration of caverns is wise in your condition, my love, but we can look. I have not been to the cave in years.”

Lizzy turned to her husband with a grin. “Let me guess. You and Richard, along with Mr. Vernor and Mr. Hughes, would play daring miners or Neanderthal cave dwellers?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Alright you two, quit dillydallying! There is work before pleasure, remember? I believe that is an English truism and virtue?” Uncle George, wearing a flowing outfit of beige linen with woven geometric waves of gold, scarlet, emerald green, and purple across the entire back and hem of the tunic, sauntered past with a canvas sack slung over his back.

“He rather resembles a gaudy, very thin Father Christmas, does he not?” Lizzy asked with a laugh, Darcy nodding.

They returned to the buggies while Dr. Darcy emptied his sack onto a level field of grass and proceeded to design a croquet course. The men carried the numerous baskets to the shady area, the women spreading the blankets and pillows. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Dr. Penaflor erected two broad umbrellas to expand the shade beyond that offered by the oaks. Lizzy had expressly ordered Mrs. Langton to expend no energy on the picnic victuals, her efforts monopolized by festival requirements. The cook had done as asked, merely stuffing the four baskets with remains from recent meals and fresh fruits, nuts, breads, and whatever else was at hand. It was not fancy, but it was more than adequate.

Lizzy and Jane placed the piles of food items onto a middle blanket, small plates and utensils nearby, allowing the picnickers to nibble as they wished. Kitty and Georgiana had immediately stripped their shoes and stockings, currently splashing along the edge of the cold water.

Soft conversation flowed, though most of the party was eagerly devoted to eating rather than idle chat. Lizzy leaned against her husband's bent leg, he reclining onto the oak's trunk. It was the last day of July, quite hot with the sun shining fiercely. Fortunately, there was a steady breeze, more warm than cool, but it eased the heat somewhat. All the women utilized their fans and were thankful to have worn light dresses and wide-brimmed hats. The men wore suits of finely woven kerseymere in pale shades of tan and grey; even Darcy wore a coat of ash grey over a grey waistcoat in an attempt to survive the heat. All of the men gazed in envy at Dr. Darcy, currently assisting Richard with the task of stringing kites, appearing cool and exceedingly comfortable in his loose Indian garb.

Caroline voiced all their thoughts when she turned to Raul Penaflor and said, “I daresay Dr. Darcy seems unperturbed by the balmy weather. Why do you not wear Indian outfits, Dr. Penaflor?”

He shrugged and smiled. “At the moment, I am wondering the exact thing, Miss Bingley! I do at times; however, Dr. Darcy has lived in India far longer than I and is greatly enmeshed into the culture. You may not believe it, but his appearance now is actually quite tame to how he is in Calcutta. He speaks numerous dialects fluently, naturally assumes the mannerisms of the locals, and dresses accordingly. I, however, am not as adaptable. I cling stubbornly to my familiar ways.”

“How long have you worked for the East India Company, Dr. Penaflor?” Lizzy asked.

“Five years, Mrs. Darcy. George was my mentor when I first arrived. I was naïve, out of school just three years with so much to learn. He took a shine to me, a surprise to the fellow physicians, I later discovered, as George Darcy reputedly disdained the new arrivals. It may be hard to believe, observing his playfulness, but he is an astounding physician and tremendously serious about his craft. He is a gifted diagnostician with nearly magical skills. Therefore, he has little patience for foolish or inexperienced practitioners. Why he chose me is a mystery, but I am thankful.”

Anne spoke in her muted voice, “He sensed that you share the same gift, Dr. Penaflor. He diagnosed you, so to speak.” She smiled shyly and they all laughed.

“Perhaps, Miss de Bourgh, although I would be blessed to harbor a third his skill.”

“Do you plan to return to India with him, Doctor?” Jane asked.

He glanced briefly toward Anne, who was gazing into her lap and did not note the unconscious gesture, answering after a slight hesitation, “I suppose so, Mrs. Bingley. At least that has been my intention. I have no desire to return to Spain; however, England is intriguing and has certain merits. A physician could earn a comfortable living in private practice or working in one of the hospitals.”

Lizzy smiled, glancing to Darcy's calculating face. A girlish squeal diverted all their attention to the lakeshore where Kitty and Georgiana were flying their kites. Darcy laughed aloud at the sight of his baby sister nearly launched off her feet by a gusting updraft, Uncle George leaping to assist her. Richard called to the group, “Elizabeth, Mrs. Bingley, come get your kites.”

Lizzy laughed, pivoting swiftly to plant a quick kiss to her husband's cheek, then grasped Jane's hand and pulled her to her feet. Charles looked to his sister from where he stood stringing fishing poles, Caroline's expression indecipherable as she watched the frivolity transpiring on the beach. “Caroline, join them. I believe we brought six kites, did we not Darcy?”

Darcy nodded affirmative, Jane speaking favorably, “Oh do come, Caroline! It is our duty to entertain the gentlemen.” Caroline hesitated, clearly unsure if the activity was below her dignity, deciding positively upon glancing to Mr. Darcy's glowing face as he attended to his wife's pleasure, Lizzy already initiating her dash across the meadow to launch her kite.

“Dr. Penaflor,” Charles inquired, “do you like to fish?”

“I have undertaken the endeavor only a handful of times in my life, but found it a pleasant diversion.” He stood as he spoke, “You may have to assist me in the particulars of the craft, Mr. Bingley.”

Darcy spoke, eyes yet focusing on Elizabeth, “The fish here are incredible, Doctor. The Lake is rarely disturbed, so the fish are allotted long seasons to grow to astounding proportions. Nor do they learn via the fish communication system to avoid strange dangling silver hooks.”

Anne laughed. Charles chuckled as well, asking his friend, “Will you join us Darcy?”

“Later, Bingley. I believe I will relax and visit with my cousin.” He gestured toward the island, “The best pools are on the far side of the island where the water is in shadow and very deep.”

The men set off, Darcy and Anne happily easing into the calm silence. The kite-wielding women were laughing and cavorting in delight, George and Richard in the thick of it. Darcy observed his wife with serene peace, thrilled to note that the precious swell of their child could intermittently be noted when the breeze plastered her gown against her slim body.

“William, your wife is a delight. I truly cannot express how happy I am for you.”

“Thank you, Anne. She is wonderful and I am beyond happy. Giddy, even, ridiculously so at times! Richard takes enormous pleasure in teasing me about my irrepressible joy.” Darcy smiled and Anne laughed.

“Perhaps some day you can return the favor, although he does seem firmly entrenched into the world of bachelorhood.”

Darcy peered at his cousin, who was serenely staring toward the lake. Her color remained paler than most, but with a pink tinge to her cheeks and lips the color of ripe strawberries. To one unacquainted with Anne de Bourgh, her frailty and faintly translucent skin would yet be obvious. To Darcy, who had watched her evolve from a vigorous child and adolescent to the pinched, tremulous young adult she had become, she now radiated health.

“Is the same true of you, dear Anne? Firmly entrenched or ready to climb out of your solitary hole?”

“You of all people know how painful it is for me, William. We share that trait. I think in a strange way I embraced my illness as an excuse to hide.” She smiled, meeting his tender gaze. “It is somewhat of a shame our love was too strong to allow us to settle for each other, Wills. You would have been the safe choice for me. Now I have to contend with mother's arrangements.” She laughed at his pained eyes, leaning to pat his hand. “Do not fret so, cousin. I may be a bit timid and inordinately complacent, but my backbone is not entirely comprised of jelly. I will refuse anyone too disgusting. Fortunately, I do not have to marry for money.”

They were silent for a time, both dwelling on the past as well as the future. From their earliest remembrances, Lady Catherine had spoke of a union. When they were very young they had merely laughed, the concept of marriage to anyone being grotesque. As adolescents, the idea was met with mutual absurdity. The thought of marrying someone who was as close as a sibling was repellent. With the onset of adulthood, the reality that cousins did frequently marry prompted them to honestly deliberate the subject. By that time, Anne was ill with an unknown condition and Darcy was Master of Pemberley. As far as they were concerned, it was an untenable possibility on numerous levels. However, the main rationale was a genuine desire for the other to find what their hearts yearned for. Darcy needed a spirited, vibrant woman who he could truly love, his internal pain and emptiness intuitively understood by Anne. In contrast, Anne required a man with minimal demands who was tranquil and easygoing. Darcy and Anne loved each other, and that love would have, if pushed, bound them in mutual respect and care, but not true happiness or fulfillment.

Darcy broke the silence, speaking frankly as he would to few people in the world. “How run your feelings for Dr. Penaflor?” He expected Anne to blush and equivocate, so was surprised when her contemplative gaze traveled to the doctor where he sat upon a moss draped boulder as he fished.

“I am not sure, William.” She spoke in a hushed tone, as if speaking more to herself than another. “Is my attraction to him because he has restored my health? Is it because he is exotic? Or am I merely lonely and he is the only available male in my immediate circle? Are those reasons acceptable? Unacceptable? And what does any of that matter if he is merely being polite and does not return my interest?” She smiled and turned to Darcy. “You see how terrible I am at this? Perhaps I should take lessons from Mrs. Darcy as to how one wins the hand of their soul mate.”

Darcy snorted. “By all means, do not ask for my instruction! I succeeded by blind fortune and the grace of God. As for Dr. Penaflor, I judge he returns your interest, Anne, but must add the caveat that I am not intimate with him so cannot be certain. Keep yourself open to the possibility, would be my only counsel. He is a worthy man.”

Anne had resumed her study of the fishing gentleman, her countenance sad. “Mother would never consent, so it is all moot speculation.”

“I concur that it would require much persuasion; however, he is a proper match from an elite family, wealthy, and educated. I do not imagine it impossible.”

Finally Anne blushed and lowered her head. “We should not be talking about him this way, William. He probably sees me as a patient and nothing more, yet here I am mentally shackling him not only to me but to mother as well! That is just plain evil!” They both laughed, recognizing the truth in her statement.

Elizabeth caught her husband's eye, blew a kiss, and then gestured for him to join her. Darcy smiled and waved, sitting up from his reclined pose. “Dearest Anne,” he said, leaning close to his cousin and pressing her hand under his, “all I can assert with absolute confidence is the astounding joy to be found in a union with one whom you love and who loves you in return. Do not allow Lady Catherine or any other to convince you it does not matter. Do not settle for less than at the very least a mutual affection, promise me this!”

She intently studied his fierce, emotional eyes, surprisingly moved despite her recognition of the intensity of love in the Darcys’ marriage. Seriously, she replied, “I promise, William. I will not settle.”

The remainder of the afternoon passed pleasantly in frivolous pursuits. Capriciousness and jocosity reigned. Croquet was a triumph, although no one seriously attended to the actual rules of the game, fun prevailing over rivalry. Lizzy mischievously fixated on knocking Darcy's ball off course, vexing him initially, as his intrinsic disposition was a competitive one, but her glittering eyes and coy smile warmed his heart. In fact, as the nonsense escalated, the object of the contest rapidly became hitting another's ball rather than sending one's own through a hoop. Therefore, no one person could claim victory with any clarity.

Darcy and his uncle pitched a chessboard between them, settling in for a serious competition. Richard joined Dr. Penaflor and Charles on the island with pole in hand. The ladies sat quietly until Darcy nonchalantly mentioned that a thicket of wild strawberries grew along a casually indicated pathway, or at least had in years past. He glanced at Lizzy with an imperceptible nod toward Jane and she smiled. Darcy well knew how Lizzy longed for sisterly company with her eldest sibling, and that such solitude had been difficult to arrange even with the small number of visitors currently crowding them.

“Strawberries! How delightful. Jane, walk with me and let's see if we are in luck.” Lizzy stood, leaning to kiss her husband's cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He snatched her hand, drawing it to his lips for a lingering kiss. “Enjoy yourselves. The path is easy and the thicket is not more than a hundred yards in.”

Jane and Lizzy set out, buckets in hand and arms linked. Once they were beyond earshot and under the canopy of forest leaves, Lizzy sighed. “It is pleasant to walk with you, Jane. We have had so few opportunities to converse alone, although that shall change once you relocate here. Oh Jane, I am so thrilled you are moving close!”

“Yes, it will be wonderful. Derbyshire is so different than Hertfordshire. I do worry a bit about the winter. You know I abhor the cold.”

“I cannot argue that point. Hasberry Hall is well constructed, though, with fireplaces aptly located. Besides, the excessive cold lends credence to long lazy days languishing in bed with your husband.”

“Lizzy! Such things you say.” Jane was blushing and Lizzy laughed.

“Oh Jane, you so amuse me. Surely you must be past your acute embarrassment of intimate matters by now? Is not nestling with your love a delightful activity?” Jane was silent and Lizzy noted her thoughtful expression. “Jane? What is it?”

“When Mr. Darcy holds you Lizzy, is it very tight?” Jane glanced at her sister, slightly reddened and stammering yet truly curious. “I mean, do you… touch completely?”

“It varies night to night. William prefers to be entwined, as do I. However, lately, between the warmth of summer and my internal body heat rising with pregnancy, I am discovering it preferable to merely hold hands or lay close. Why do you ask?”

“Charles wishes to hold me snug, which is very sweet, I know, and I do adore the intimacy and thank you, Lizzy, for encouraging me in that regard. It's just… I cannot sleep well. I keep telling myself I will grow accustomed to another body so… attached… to mine, but…” She sighed loudly and Lizzy could see tears shining in her eyes. “Oh, Lizzy, I am a terrible wife!”

“Jane, dear Jane, you are not terrible! You have always needed your freedom, that is all. Remember when we shared a bed? You would get so irritated if I invaded your side. We would snuggle for warmth, but you were always the first to push me away. It is simply how you are! You can share a bed with your husband without necessarily being in the same space. I am sure Charles would understand this.”

Jane was shaking her head slowly. “No, Lizzy, I could never disappoint him so. Our relationship has blossomed since we began staying in the same room, as you said it would, and I truly do desire him there. He would be hurt if I altered it.”

“You are merely seeking a compromise, Jane. Why should you be miserable? You are not suggesting he retreat totally. I am afraid I simply do not see the problem. Candidly explain how you feel. Talk to him.”

They had reached the strawberries, Darcy's thicket having grown to a dense region of strawberry runners covering easily fifty feet of forest floor. Masses of ripe berries carpeted the ground in a speckled red and green pattern. Lizzy immediately knelt and began picking, but Jane stood still, staring into space.

“You sound just like Charles,” she said vaguely.

Lizzy looked up into her sister's faraway eyes. “What sounds just like Charles?”

Jane jolted slightly, focusing on Lizzy with a faint flush “Oh nothing. He is forever inquiring as to my feelings. He does not seem satisfied with my answers.” She shrugged. “Charles is ebullient and loquacious. I suppose he expects the same, yet it is not my nature to be effusive. It is frustrating, actually, to have him doubt my honesty.”

“Yet you did not reveal the truth of your feelings regarding Netherfield nor leaving Hertfordshire,” Lizzy said softly. Jane flushed and hung her head. Lizzy reached up and clasped her sister's hand, squeezing firmly. “Jane, I love you and appreciate your reticence; however, it can be hindering. You cannot deny your intrinsic nature, but you must learn to overcome to a degree. Charles deserves your whole heart and soul, as you do his.”

“Lizzy, what if he thinks ill of me? Do you not fear this with Mr. Darcy? That if you tell all he will be wounded or falter in his love for you?”

“Jane! That is ridiculous! Mr. Bingley adores you. The man mourned for months without you in his life. I rather doubt he will be dismayed to discover you have a fault or two! Do you not trust his devotion?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then stop being so silly. You cast negative aspersions on his character by not having faith in his love and commitment.”

Jane was pale, staring at Lizzy with dawning comprehension. “I never considered it that way,” she whispered. “Oh Lizzy, I am such a fool. Charles is the best of men and I love him unconditionally, faults and all. Assuredly he loves me the same.” Suddenly she giggled with an edge of hysteria, covering her mouth with one hand. “You see, I am a terrible wife!” She looked at Lizzy curiously, still giggling, “How do you know these pearls of wisdom, Lizzy?”

Lizzy laughed. “Wisdom bought with a tremendous price, Jane. You know what William and I suffered. I suppose the benefit to our tumultuous courtship was the trial-by-fire aspect of it all. We learned our lessons via grievous methods, but we did learn them.”