Loving Mr. Darcy: Journeys Beyond Pemberley

Chapter Twenty-One Summer Festival

The Pemberley summer festival had been a traditional event for uncounted decades. Naturally, the specific entertainments had varied year to year, although feasting and dancing were always the main events. There had undoubtedly been years when the gala was canceled or subdued for various reasons; however, the custom by the Darcys to reward the hard-working tenants and employees whose labors ensured the survival of Pemberley had endured unwaveringly. Endured, that is, until the death of Lady Anne.

James Darcy had effectively, and nearly literally, ceased to live. He existed, moving through the rigors and demands of life with little joy. Celebrations of all kinds were forsaken, the house sunk in a state of perpetual mourning. Darcy, upon donning the title of Master, simply could not fathom how to reinstate the old traditions with his own crushing grief and discomfiture ruling him. In the present, after a twelve-year hiatus, the Master and Mistress of Pemberley embraced the restitution of all the old traditions. Furthermore, Elizabeth had determined that this Festival, as the mark of life restored, would surpass any other Festival in human memory.

She searched through the Pemberley archives for references to past events, both for ideas and to ensure this party was premiere. For hours, she met with Mrs. Reynolds and Mr. Taylor to innovate and form an agenda. Her accident interrupted the plotting for a spell, but she made up for lost time during her recuperation. Long weeks of lying abed afforded her the opportunity to attack the project zealously. All of the scheming she shared with Darcy. He, for the most part, listened, proffered the occasional opinion or insight, and happily helped when asked. Primarily, though, he allowed Lizzy to take the reins. This was her wish and aside from utilizing his knowledge base and extensive contacts, as well as digging deeply into the estate pockets, he was essentially a bystander.

At times, especially during her illness, he fretted that she was taking on too much. He had, only a couple of times, obliquely hinted that perhaps the event should be postponed one more year. Lizzy had erupted in anger, pregnancy playing a part no doubt, ordering him and his “negative attitude” from the room. So, he wisely relented, taking Mrs. Reynolds's advice to leave her be. The end result of all her careful contriving was now unfolding before his eyes and promised to be a perfect success.

Generally, the celebration was held in early June to avoid the oppressive heat of Derbyshire's summer and this had been Elizabeth's original plan. However, her accident and subsequent delay in joining the London season had forced them to postpone the Festival until August. As the schemes manifested, the decision to defer became fortuitous. Lizzy realized that the heat of August was of a degree that packing an enormous quantity of bodies into even the vast space of Pemberley's ballroom would be uncomfortable, to say the least. Therefore, she relegated the entire escapade to the outdoors.

The sweeping expanse of grassland surrounding the manor would serve as the primary locale. Five enormous white pavilions were erected: two for the lengthy, victual-laden tables, and three to provide a haven for an ample amount of dining tables and settees. A platform was situated beside the water for the orchestra, dancing to take place on the lawn. Hundreds of hanging lanterns were strung between tall poles dotting the entire field and casting illumination. Additional chairs were randomly dispersed along the edges of the main “dancing section.” Separate zones were cordoned for specific entertainments, and the entire vicinity surrounding the Greek Temple above the Cascade Falls was taboo except for a select group of artisans who were preparing a special surprise.

The purpose of the Festival, as previously stated, was to reward the working members of the Pemberley family. As Lizzy had delved into exactly what this meant, she had been stunned at the incredible number of people who depended on Pemberley for their livelihood. Of course, she knew of the tenant farmers, having met all of them during her delivery of the Christmas packages. Additionally, she had become well acquainted with the household staff members and knew all of their names, with the exception of a few groundsmen and stable workers. What she had not realized were the quantity of folks from the neighboring communities who were employed at the fisheries, granaries, farms, and even the Manor itself, either continually or as seasonal help. All were invited.

Her first revolutionary idea was to not only provide entertainment for the laborers themselves but also for their entire family, children as well as adults. Therefore, another field was partitioned for children's games. The scheming Pemberley plotters had allowed their juvenile instincts to run amok, remembering favorite youthful sports and play. An array of activities were planned for the early hours of the evening, after which the children would retire to an additional pavilion where blankets were laid so they could fall asleep while their parents celebrated.

Lizzy's next idea was to hire helpers from the nearby towns to perform the necessary duties so that the entire household staff could partake in the festivities. Everyone, as Lizzy saw it, from Mrs. Reynolds and Mr. Taylor down to the last maid, should lay their burdens aside for an evening. Caroline had blanched at the news, questioning in shock who would assist them with undressing and dining. Lizzy, who had grown up with a modest number of servants, had difficulty resisting a sharp retort as to the shame of a grown woman not being able to remove her own clothing or pour a cup of tea! Instead, she placatingly assured Caroline that a handful of servants from the estates of their friends were being hired for the evening.

In point of fact, the Vernors, the Sitwells, and the Hugheses were happy to assist. Along with graciously allowing those maids and footmen who wished to augment their wage by serving the Darcys for an evening, they had also lent equipment such as tents, chairs, tables, and the like. In the end, the Darcy festival aided many throughout the local communities. Folks outside of Pemberley were engaged to implement most of the physical labor necessary to guarantee a successful event, the only exception being the kitchen staff. The simple truth was, Mrs. Langton would sooner walk over hot coals than have a stranger in her domain! Therefore, supplemental food was catered from the local inns and pubs, but the vast majority of the feast was miraculously furnished by the outstanding Pemberley cook and her unparalleled staff.

The resulting banquet would be simple but stupendous. Whole carcasses of sundry pigs, lambs, fowl, and one cow were roasted on spits or in deep pits over many days. There were vegetables, some the early reaping from Pemberley's crops, diverse breads, an inexhaustive amount of pies and cakes, which grew exponentially as most of the attendees brought offerings with them, and a multitude of nuts and fruits to nibble on. Smatterings of exotic or sophisticated cuisines were offered for those brave folk who wished for something exciting.

The new Mistress of Pemberley had perused the lists a hundred times. All was prepared, all arrangements confirmed, all essential items purchased and delivered, all staff assignments covered, all entertainers present. Barring a sudden freak rainstorm or equally cataclysmic event, all should transpire as planned. No one was worried; everyone from Darcy on down was quite used to handling such operations, albeit not on this scale, but the staff was imminently competent and would sooner die a painful death than disappoint their Master and Mistress.

Nonetheless, despite all logic to the contrary, Lizzy worried.

The day itself dawned bright, the sky cloud free, and promised to be as scorching as the one prior. The occupants of Pemberley observed the unfolding drama upon the grounds from the relative calm of the Manor. In the Master chambers, Lizzy had tossed restlessly for the bulk of the night. Her mind fretted and raced, preventing deep sleep, and what dreams she attained involved a Festival tragedy or dilemma of some kind. Darcy soothed her as best he could, finally unconsciously retreating to the far side of the bed to avoid her flipping body. Somewhere in the darkest hours of the morning, she fell into an exhaustive sleep so overwhelming that she did not note her husband departing for a morning ride or his return several hours later.

She woke from the faint breath of a cool breeze tickling her face, combined with the baby somersaulting on her bladder. The room was empty, windows open wide to encourage available airflow, and it was nearly ten o’clock. Lizzy jolted up in a panic, rushed through her toilette, and dashed toward the sitting room where she seriously prayed food of some sort was left lying about. Food was thankfully present, the sidebar laden and smelling delicious. Also present was her husband, dressed from riding sans his boots, slumped in a chair with long legs propped on the ottoman and newspaper open. He glanced up as she practically vaulted through the door, he the epitome of blithe serenity.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he greeted her with a debonair grin. “Hungry?” Of course, the query was unnecessary, as she was always hungry when she woke these days. He rose as he spoke, crossing to where she stood torn between delight at seeing him so devastatingly handsome and irrational vexation at his tranquility. He kissed her cheek, smoothing her wildly rumpled hair, smiling knowingly as he met her eyes. “Sit, love. What shall I get you?”

He turned toward the breakfast bar, Lizzy speaking but not answering his question, “You were out this morning. Is all well?”

He arched a brow in amusement. “All is according to your well-laid plans, Elizabeth. If they were not, heads would be rolling, I assure you. Marmalade or strawberry jam?”

“Very funny, William!” She retorted, again ignoring his inquiry, although she did flop into her chair with a heavy sigh.

“I was not attempting to be funny, although I suppose heads would not actually roll, but you get the picture. The staff knows what is required and will perform brilliantly. You, Mistress Darcy, are ordered to rest as much as possible today. No argument, Elizabeth,” he said, this last spoken sharply and with a severe glower, Lizzy's mouth snapping shut. “My duty for the day will be to ensure your obedience. How I shall accomplish the feat, I have yet to decide.” He grinned roguishly from the bar, where he was piling her plate high with everything since she seemed unwilling to inform him as to her craving. He returned to her slowly, speaking in a low tone as if perplexed, “Let me think. How can I make certain you lay about at perfect ease, expending minimal energy, engaged in activities delightful and requiring only fundamental cogitation? Hmmm… quite the pickle.”

He handed her the plate, smiling broadly into her frowning face. “Now I am attempting to be funny. Humor is a chore for me, so you should laugh so as not to damage my fragile ego.”

She took the proffered plate with a grunt. “Your ego, Mr. Darcy, is about as fragile as tempered steel, and you are still not funny!” He laughed boomingly and her frown deepened. Nonetheless, she attacked the food, Darcy returning moments later with a cup of tea, still chuckling.

He kissed her forehead then resettled into his chair, peering sidelong as he attended to the newspaper. Lizzy woke famished everyday, weak and shaky from hunger, yet in the end ate not much more than she ever had. Darcy was certainly far from an expert on matters relating to females and pregnancy, but it amazed him how essentially unchanged she was. Her breasts were fuller and darker, with fine veins visible as they had not been previously, her belly seemed daily to swell and she was slightly wider in the hips, yet her waist was as narrow, and viewed from behind, one could not tell she was with child. The remainder of her perfect body was unaltered, Lizzy as svelte as ever. However, she was only at the midpoint of her pregnancy and he knew the majority of their son's growth was yet to come.

Most of the symptoms of pregnancy as related by Dr. Darcy and the text had not affected Elizabeth. Occasionally fatigue would grip her, but generally her stamina was as inexhaustible as always. Her skin remained alabaster and supple, she did not experience the strange food cravings reported, she felt no pains or further muscle tingling in her back or hips, she slept very well, weight gain was minimal, and her sexual appetite was undiminished. George had stressed the importance of exercise, surprising Darcy, as he would have imagined laying about being preferential. Thankfully, this was not so, as Lizzy had no intention of being confined until, as she phrased it, she was too enormous to be evicted from their bed! Since Darcy simply could not fathom this, he rather expected she would be trudging the Pemberley gardens mere hours before their son arrived.

With visions of a waddling, rotund wife navigating the rose garden, Darcy chuckled lowly and seriously studied the paper. Lizzy finished her meal, about a third of what her husband had piled onto the plate, irritation vanishing along with her hunger. Naturally, Darcy was correct again. The staff would execute all details brilliantly, not only because they were loyal and stellar, but because their own entertainment depended on flawless implementation. In fact, her part to play was essentially complete. Even if a few minor snares or mishaps occurred, the entertainment planned was such that no one would be leaving having not enjoyed themselves fully.

She sighed, sipped her tea in peaceful silence for a spell, and then turned her musings to Darcy's jesting allusion to bedroom activities. Scrutinizing him unobtrusively, Lizzy smiled a slow and decidedly decadent grin. He sat once again with legs stretched onto the ottoman, crossed at the ankles, one hand holding a coffee cup with index finger tapping on the rim, the other hand gripping the paper while he read the finance page with intent examination. His beautiful lips were slightly pursed and those two little creases were fixed between his brows as he read. Lizzy's smile deepened. She loved watching him when he concentrated. The past hectic months had assigned them scant time to merely be together in placid pursuits. With a sudden and profound surge of sheer selfishness, she decided that she would take him at his threat. If he wished her to lie about and relax, then she would do so, but only if he was with her.

Relishing the moment, she candidly and adoringly studied him, allowing internal desires to rise as they invariably did whenever he was near. With a near jolt it occurred to her that he was growing more handsome each day. Perhaps it was just her personal prejudices, but she honestly believed it so. His face was mildly tanned from his daily rides, a faint scattering of tiny freckles across his nose and neck, and his hair was longer, having not been trimmed for several weeks, lending an air of barbarism to his normally cultured mien. Of course, his riding clothes always excited her and being half dressed meant his fine figure was readily visible.

As exemplary as was the masculine whole, equally aesthetic were the individual parts. She still adored his feet: strong and broad with long, straight toes and tiny dark hairs sprouting. His sturdy, elegant hands absolutely drove her insane. The hollow of his throat where a potent heartbeat could always be seen, his luscious neck, and his eyes. Oh God, his eyes! Lizzy continued to marvel at her previous blind stupidity for not at least noticing his eyes: a blue as vivid as the Derbyshire sky, blazing with intelligence and passion yet so sensitive and evocative. How could she not have recognized his beautiful soul as disclosed through his eyes?

Overcome with a flood of raging ardor and an intense need to express her devotion, she rose abruptly, Darcy starting at her sudden move. In seconds she was before him, nudging his legs off the ottoman so she could kneel in between. Darcy smiled, no need to ask her intent as it was clearly written on her face, and divested his hands of their encumbering items so he could twine fingers through her hair. She gazed into his eyes, those amazing eyes now clouding with immediate desire, while running her hands over his calves and feet.

“I love you, Fitzwilliam. Forgive my pique and for not laughing at your jokes. Allow me to offer contrition for my misdeeds.” Smiling impishly, she rose on her knees and leaned in to kiss the throbbing pulse in the hollow of his neck. Darcy sighed happily, closing his eyes as she proceeded to deliver kisses down his chest and abdomen to his powerful thighs.

Lizzy proceeded to gently fondle him in all the ways which drove his passions wildly over the edge. She thrilled at the feminine power rushing through her as his excitement manifested. Now that Lizzy had read through the medical book and better understood the physiologic machinations of male arousal, it astonished her that the sudden rush of blood to his groin did not induce delirium from lack of oxygen to the brain! Of course, she chuckled as he groaned and dropped his head onto the chair; as evidenced by how dazed and befuddled he became, it apparently did nearly induce delirium.

Utilizing the firm and tender movements which she knew aroused him most profoundly, Lizzy adored her husband. The power and manliness of him, all hers to enjoy, titillated her to unbearable levels. Shoving her own excitement to the side for the present, she focused on his pleasure. Darcy was in a haze of passion, overwhelmed with love and adoration for his wife. “Elizabeth,” he whispered roughly, “I love you, God how I love you! Please, please do not stop my love.”

Lizzy did not stop. No initial planned intent of how she ultimately wished to please her husband, she now knew she wanted to concentrate on his satisfaction rather than her own. She knew him well: every gasp, shudder, muscle clench, writhe, wiggle, moan, or murmured word spoke clear volumes as to how he was feeling and where the level of his ardor was. She knew precisely how to bring him the greatest joy, and she did so.

After blissfully bringing him to completion, she nestled onto his lap, nuzzling his sweaty neck. Darcy was yet shivering and gasping. “My love, my husband. How I adore you. Do you have any idea how perfect you are?” She kissed over his face, caressing inside his shirt, Darcy unable to speak. Reaching his lips, she suckled the lower, murmuring, “Is my poor attitude forgiven, beloved?”

Darcy laughed with a harsh bark. “Lord, Lizzy! After what you have done for me I would likely forgive you anything. However, there is nothing to repent for.” He cupped her cheek, smiling with utter contentment and happiness. “Will you stay with me here all day? I know you fret about the Festival but truly all is well, and I find I desperately need you all to myself. I cannot bear another day of sharing you!”

Lizzy encircled his waist, hugging fiercely. “You have read my thoughts, love, as you always do. And you are correct, as annoying as it is to admit!” She giggled and pinched a nipple, Darcy chuckling. “The Festival is beyond my control. I am confident all has been planned well and the guests will have a marvelous time.”

Darcy hugged her tighter. “Elizabeth, I am so proud of you. Have I told you this?” He gently clasped her chin and peered into her bright eyes. “I am completely serious. You have stunned me in your enthusiasm and competence in this endeavor.” She blushed and attempted to lower her gaze but he held firm. “You must understand how amazing you are. I mean no offense, but I must confess that I had my doubts, as you have no experience in running a household, let alone organizing a major fête. I never doubted your eventual capabilities or intelligence, but frankly, I did not expect you to grasp it all so quickly. Elizabeth, I married you because I love you. I fell in love with you because of your passion, humor, quick wit, and intelligence, not to mention your luscious body.” He grinned and she tickled him briefly.

He continued, “In all seriousness though, I knew you would evolve into a wonderful Mistress of Pemberley. I told you so many times when you questioned yourself, remember?” She nodded, staring into his intense eyes. “However, in truth, I honestly thought it would take a couple of years. When you declared, upon your first day at Pemberley, that you wished to reinstate the Summer Festival, I confess I laughed. Again, not because I dispute your energy or heart, but because I figured it too much to undertake in so short a time. I wanted you to ease into being Mistress, afraid that the duties might overwhelm you and that you may become unhappy as my wife.”

“Never!” she interrupted firmly, kissing him with fierce urgency.

“Well, see,” he finally stammered breathlessly, “we both harbored residual anxieties in those early days. Elizabeth, despite my incredible love for you and faith in your potential, you have astonished me at every turn. What you have accomplished, my love, is truly unparalleled. Pregnant, ill, and wounded, so young, inexperienced, and naïve, none of those handicaps have hindered you. I want you to comprehend how extraordinary you are as a person, as my wife, and as Mistress of Pemberley, and to believe how bursting my pride in you. I do love you immeasurably, Mrs. Darcy.”

Sending word via a maid, the Darcys stayed together in their chambers all day. Resuming a pattern they had grown accustomed to during the timeless winter months, they lounged about in their robes talking, snuggling, reading to each other, making love as the yearning arose, playing games, and whatever else seemed pleasurable at the given moment.

Lizzy brought out the interlocking puzzle, which had remained unmolested since her birthday. Clearing a table, they began to work on the odd recreation, experiencing a blissful oneness as they linked the pieces together. Sitting close, they managed to form almost the entire circumference of the picture before the frequent brushing of their bodies ignited passion. It began with an innocent caress to her knee, Lizzy rapidly distracted by his scent and firm muscles, especially since she had not slaked her amorous appetite that morning. Having no doubt whatsoever that he would readily rise to the task, Lizzy's caresses became quite focused and were not the least bit innocent. Darcy glanced at her with a raised brow and crooked grin, Lizzy clarifying her demands by the simple expedience of grasping the front of his robe and pulling him onto the floor.

She was unmistaken in her assumption. He did rise to the task, quite speedily as a matter of fact. Clothes were discarded in haste with frantic fondling and kissing ensuing. Lizzy flipped him onto his back with incredible force, straddling and loving him leisurely. Darcy, as always when she blissfully assumed control of their lovemaking, was as enraptured by her actions as he was by the joy exhibited in every inch of her flushed flesh. She was wholly perfect. The swell of their child between them, the baby occasionally felt when their bodies were squeezed, her bounteous breasts swaying as she moved, were all glorious reminders of their abounding love. Naturally, the end result of their lovemaking was satisfying and wondrous.

They transferred to the comfort of their enormous bed for a long, satiated interlude of cuddling and communication transpired in the aftermath of their loving. Bared bodies entwined as they lazily caressed and spoke of anything and everything, neither ever tiring of the simple pleasure found in a mere touch or sound of the other's voice. They read for a spell. The baby chose to become quite active, allotting Darcy the opportunity to speak to him and kiss the burgeoning bulge.

A late luncheon was sent on a tray and taken in bed between giggles and kisses. As they had discovered long ago, food could be deliciously utilized as an aphrodisiac. Honey, chunks of apple, thick custard, and wine were all used to enhance and arouse. The sheets were ruined and their flesh a sticky mess, but neither cared. Driven mad with desire, he loved his wife again, her body pressed under his. Lingering tastes of honey and fruit mingled with their unique flavors as they kissed, starved for the breath of the other.

The need to connect on every plane of their bodies kept them harshly glued together, Darcy only rising slightly on his elbows to avoid completely crushing her. Darcy incessantly murmured words of love into her ear between tender kisses and nibbles. Lizzy clutched him greedily, limbs wrapped tenaciously about his body, not at all feeling crushed.

They slept for a time, necessary for them both to regain their strength. Darcy could not readily recall the last lovemaking session they had shared of such intensity. He was utterly depleted, blissfully so. Lizzy woke long before he did, gazing at his relaxed face with a nearly overpowering sensation of adulation. They had needed this day to purely devote to the other, to cherish their union for the special one that it was. No one had disturbed them, as surely they would have if there were any serious problems. Lizzy realized that for two months now she had been so consumed with the obligations inherent as Mrs. Darcy that, although she had always placed her husband first, her mind was often distracted. With a sudden rush blinding in its acuteness, she wanted this evening to be over and all their guests to depart so she could rededicate every waking moment to him.

So earnest was her emotion that tears sprang to her eyes and she involuntarily squeezed, causing him to sluggishly rouse. “Elizabeth?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. “Are you alright?”

She nodded. “I am wonderful. I love you, William, so very, very much!”

He smiled and drew her close. “I love you too, my Lizzy. Forever.” He yawned hugely, lifting to glance at the clock then sighing heavily. “I suppose we should rise. Bathing is essential,” he said as he laughed, capturing a tress of her hair gummed with honey.

“Will you join me?” she asked. “I do not yet wish to part from you.”

“I will always happily bathe with you, my love, as long as we both fit, that is.” He chuckled and rubbed her belly. “However, do not expect more than actual washing. I honestly do believe I have attained my daily quota of arousals. Can a man be totally drained? I shall have to investigate the subject.”

Lizzy laughed. “I have difficulty imagining your virility ever exhausted, beloved, but considering my unearthly satisfaction from this afternoon, I shall have no grand expectations.”

In the end, they were both pleasantly surprised. Once again, Darcy's response to the touch of his wife's flesh, especially in a soapy tub, was automatic, maintaining his record of never being able to touch her without becoming profoundly aroused.

The invitees began arriving around five that evening. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy greeted each one under a flower-laden pergola erected beyond the terrace on the southern side of the Manor. Designated as the reception area, the wide arbor opened onto the vast grasses surrounding the trout lake with shooting fountains. In keeping with the informal, fun atmosphere, Darcy and Lizzy wore understated outfits carefully chosen to not intimidate yet maintain their status as Master and Mistress. Marguerite dressed Elizabeth's hair in a simple chignon and Samuel insisted on trimming Darcy's hair so he did not look so disreputable.

Between the two, they remembered nearly every person's name. Mrs. Reynolds and Mr. Taylor, as the senior staff members, stood nearby to assist with the greetings, aiding Darcy and Lizzy with those folks they did not know. The enormous quantity of people employed in some capacity or another overwhelmed even Darcy's extreme mental faculty.

The children were immediately directed to the play zones, games of all sorts in progress. Dr. Darcy, dressed in a truly marvelous khalat of vivid fuchsia silk with the edges detailed in silver, had voluntarily stationed himself at the children's area. One glance at the tall, lanky man in the bright flowing dress with beaming smile, and the children squealed in delight. He joined right in, leading groups in competitions of blind man's bluff and Mother, may I.

“He is the biggest child among them,” Darcy whispered to his wife.

Lizzy giggled, turning to the next person in line. It was a tall man, vaguely familiar, but Lizzy could not immediately place him until she noted the adolescent at his side. “Caleb!” she declared, turning then to the handsome man beside his son. “Phillips, forgive me. I did not recognize you without your livery and wig. Welcome to the Festival. This must be your wife?”

Phillips bowed regally, his lack of his dress uniform not inhibiting his proper manners or stateliness. “Mrs. Darcy, allow me to introduce my wife, Doris Phillips.”

Phillips was not the first footman Lizzy had difficulty recognizing, although now that she expected it, she knew to mentally erase the powdered wig to form a picture. It was interesting to view the familiar staff in their casual garb, laughing and conversing with ease. Samuel and Marguerite appeared arm in arm, proper and reticent although eventually they did relax enough for Samuel to overcome his numbing bashfulness to dance with his fiancée.

For over an hour the wagons and carriages rambled along the drive. The harsh August sun was low on the horizon, yet still delivering scorching beams of heat. Children, of course, seem impervious to the heat so embraced the entertainment with all the enthusiasm of youth. The adults were not as resilient, retreating to the relative cool offered by the shady tents located near the water, fans fluttering crazily. Nonetheless, they ate and drank, communing with friends, laughing and flirting. Steady streams of heaping platters of food were forthcoming from the kitchens to replenish the emptied ones. Jugs of lemonade and cold tea were continually refilled.

Reverend and Mrs. Bertram arrived with the orphans. Clustered in hand-holding groups as they walked down the drive, the children stared at the massive house in wide-eyed awe. The enthusiastic welcome of Mrs. Darcy, their cheerful patroness who always displayed affection and brought lovely treats, eased their nervousness. Within minutes, they too were scampering with George Darcy and the other children, playing games and winning prizes just like all the fortunate ones with families.

Perceptive to the fact that the tenants and employees would likely better enjoy themselves if the Master and Mistress were not uncomfortably close, Lizzy had set up a shady secluded area on the terrace for the inhabitants of Pemberley. Aside from Dr. Darcy, the others reclined in comfort. Darcy and Lizzy joined them, taking their seats with sighs of relief. Lizzy poured lemonade for herself and her husband while Darcy motioned to a waiting maid to serve dinner.

“I never realized there were so many people working at Pemberley,” Georgiana said in awe, observing the mingling crowds on the grass. “When we visited the tenant cottages before Christmas, Elizabeth, it did not seem like so many.”

Darcy smiled. “There are many more besides the tenants, Georgie.”

Anne suddenly laughed aloud, interrupting Darcy's explanation. “Dr. Darcy is playing hopscotch!” All eyes pivoted to the far field where George could easily be seen in his bright robe, hopping through the grid with a score of clapping children cheering him on.

Dr. Penaflor rose to stand next to Anne, laughing at the spectacle. “Children love George. Even when horribly ill he cheers them, finding ways to make them laugh. It seems a shame that he has none of his own, but then, perhaps God knew he was needed to love them all.” He turned and smiled at Anne, eyes meeting for a time before Anne blushed and lowered her gaze.

“Well, it is cute I suppose, but he should remember he is uncle to the Master of Pemberley,” Caroline said primly. “A whit of decorum is expected, after all.”

Raul laughed. “I am afraid, Miss Bingley, that Dr. Darcy does not take such things very seriously.”

“All those years amongst the savages, I suspect,” she continued. “What a shame.”

Charles looked at his sister with slight anger. “I rather think he would disagree in your assessment of them being savages, Caroline, or that it is a shame to have dwelt among them. Having never met an Indian, you should defer your hastily rendered judgment.”

“Besides,” Darcy spoke quietly, serenely cutting his meat and not looking at Caroline, “the Master of Pemberley takes no issue with his uncle's antics and is actually planning on joining the fun once dinner is finished. Will you accompany me, Mrs. Darcy, for the egg race?”

Lizzy smiled. “I would be honored, Mr. Darcy.”

“I am anticipating the dancing,” Kitty chimed in. “When will the orchestra play, Lizzy?”

“After dark.”

“You will dance, will you not Georgiana?” Kitty begged. “Please?”

Georgiana blushed, glancing to her brother. “I do not think so, Kitty. I have not had my coming out and have never danced formally.”

“Why, Georgie! You wound me,” Richard declared dramatically. “Miss Bennet has agreed to dance with me as has Cousin Anne, so you must as well. The night will not be complete!” Georgiana paled, mutely pleading with her brother.

Darcy chuckled. “Do not turn to me for saving, baby sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam is an equal guardian, thus if he wishes to dance with you, I have no say in the matter. You can refuse, of course, but he will be devastated. He may cry.”

“You see, Georgiana! I told you it would be all right. With all the available gentlemen about, we can dance every set, all night long!” Kitty clapped her hands in glee.

“I regret that I must exert my authority at this point, Miss Kitty,” Darcy said softly. “It would not be appropriate for Miss Darcy or you to dance with any beyond the immediate members of the household. Do not fear,” he said, smiling gently to ease the blow, “there are plenty of us to go around.”

As the dinner hour drew to its completion, dusk was approaching and the groundsmen initiated the time consuming task of lighting the numerous lanterns dispersed about the lawns. Darcy lent his arm to Lizzy, leading the Pemberley residents into the crowd and toward the roped off sections of the yard. It was now nearly time for the scheduled performances to begin.

First, however, Lizzy led her husband to the children's arena. Darcy faltered a bit, in truth having blurted the whole “egg race” comment just to irritate Caroline Bingley. His wife, on the other hand, took him at his word. All thirty-three of the orphans released squeals of delight when she entered the cordoned play zone. They adored their patroness, rushing her en masse to cluster about her legs and clamor for attention. Darcy kept a grip on her elbow, fearful that she would topple over in their enthusiasm. Naturally, his close proximity meant that they also bustled about his legs, not sure what to make of the gigantic, silent man, but in the typical innocence of youth deciding that if he was with Mrs. Darcy then he must be tolerable.

Lizzy laughed, bending and attempting to hug all of them while bestowing kisses and hair tousles. Darcy watched her obvious delight with rising pleasure, beginning to relax into the unusual situation when suddenly his attention was captured by a firm tug on his trousers. He glanced down into the tiny, serious face of a boy of perhaps three. He was staring at Darcy with great intensity, his sandy hair combed into a perfect slick bowl except for a swirl to the crown which stuck straight up. His eyes were huge, colored a lovely green with gold flecks, and he solemnly studied Darcy for several minutes, apparently eventually deciding the big fellow was safe enough as he abruptly lifted his chubby arms and reached toward the stunned man. Without thinking, Darcy bent and picked the little boy into his arms, resting him naturally on his hip.

“Hello, lad,” Darcy said, deep voice causing the boy's eyes to widen and thumb to implant between sucking lips. Still, he did not squirm and bravely examined his captor, reaching the other plump fingers to poke Darcy's nose then the cleft in his chin with avid curiosity. “Do you have a name, little one?”

“His name is Francis.” It was Elizabeth, watching the drama with misty eyes and a broad smile. “He is the newest arrival. His mother died not two weeks ago and his father before he was born. We hope to settle him with an aunt who lives in Exeter.”

“He is adorable,” Darcy said, Francis continuing his study with pokes and soft pinches. “Does the aunt want him?”

“She is willing, yes, but the orphanage needs to arrange the funds for her to travel so far. I have given some of my pin money. I hope you do not mind, love…”

Darcy was shaking his head, gazing at the boy who yawned and then laid his head onto Darcy's shoulder, entire soft body relaxing as a warm rag into his chest. Darcy's breath caught, an intense surge of what could only be paternal emotion lancing his heart. He looked to Elizabeth, gruffly clearing his throat. “Whatever is needed I will provide. Tell them so, Elizabeth.”

Darcy held the boy until he was soundly asleep, one of the orphanage staff women then taking him away. His arms felt strangely bereft, the need to touch his wife and their child overwhelming him. Lizzy was on the far side of the field, preparing the equipment for the egg race when Darcy snuck behind her, snaking one arm about her waist for a tender but brief hug and caress to her bulging belly. She twisted in his arms, planting a kiss to his chin with a smile. “Soon, my love,” she whispered, patting his cheek. “Very soon we shall have him to hold. You will be an amazing father.”

They did join the egg race, both Darcy and his uncle quite excellent, their natural grace and elegance evidenced in precise balance. Darcy drew the line at jumping rope himself, but he did twirl one end while the children, and Drs. Penaflor and Darcy took turns performing elaborate steps over the fast-spinning rope. Leaving George, Raul, and Anne to entertain the children, Darcy and Lizzy finally escaped.

Lizzy and her cohorts had conjured all kinds of ideas for entertainment, so enraptured with the various concepts that they attempted to do it all. Darcy had been frankly skeptical but had written to a number of people he knew, sending out requests for the skilled professionals required. To his amazement, most of what Lizzy dreamt up had been realized. Three unique offerings were scheduled for the bedazzlement of the assembly, each to be performed several times throughout the evening so all could watch in divided groupings.

Darcy was personally most thrilled by the equestrians to perform at the corral so steered his wife in that direction next. The success of Philip Astley's circus in London over the past thirty years had sparked a swarm of duplicators in traveling shows throughout England. Darcy hired a troupe with a stellar reputation that specialized in trick horseback riding. He had been to Astley's Amphitheatre dozens of times and had taken Elizabeth once while in London, never tiring of the astounding equestrian feats the riders executed. While he did not actually expect this group to be as proficient, he was praying for at least a moderate mastery.

Lizzy climbed the bottom rung of the fence, Darcy supporting her at the small of her back. They had missed the first performance. The riders and mounts needed time to rest in between sets, but Darcy had arranged for three sets to be played, allowing all guests time to view the other entertainments and not miss what he considered the highlight. With eyes shining, Lizzy laughing at his childlike exuberance, the act began.

Galloping wildly, a grey horse burst out the stable doors, a man dressed in flowing rags clutching frantically to the reins. His face was a study in absolute terror as he yelled and wailed, body bouncing crazily on the animal's bare back. Round and round the ring they flew, all the while the seemingly hysterical man clung to the horse and his hat. As they raced about, the rider began to flip and twist, always acting as if he was in a frenzy of terror and barely holding on. In time, the humor of it all hit the crowd as the man's actions turned from random and desperate to elegant and masterful. He flipped his body backwards, clinging to the horse's rump, hat flying off, and then proceeded to lift his legs straight into the air. With another abrupt swivel, he again faced forward, holding the reins with his feet while he casually removed the frayed jacket. Little by little, always while racing in circles and sitting sideways or steering with his teeth, articles of his threadbare clothing were discarded. Underneath, he wore a tight fitting garment of white with gold and silver sparkles interwoven.

The crowd cheered, clapping furiously. Finally, completely transformed into a stunningly fit vision of masculine athleticism, the barefoot man stood on the back of the galloping horse. He held the rein loosely in one hand, the other gallantly waving to the applauding spectators. The stable doors opened then and three more horse and rider teams emerged, all dressed in similar scandalous outfits and all standing on their mounts. Together, the four proceeded to run around the ring in dazzling arrays of antics. They leapt from horse to horse, straddled two animals at once, somersaulted, stood on one leg while bent completely forward, balanced upside down, lay flat over the horse's rear, and so many more tricks that it became a blur.

The only difference Lizzy could readily detect from Astley's program was the length, quantity of artists, and wealth of props and costumes. The riders themselves were amazing and the simple country folk of Derbyshire, quite likely none of whom had ever witnessed such an exhibit, were spellbound. Darcy was gazing with what could only be described as extreme infatuation and yearning, eyes glittering and bedazzled.

Lizzy leaned toward his ear and said, “Do not even think about it, William! The way you ride Parsifal is challenging enough. I do not wish to see the father of our child attempting to stand on a running horse's back!”

Darcy flushed, averting his eyes. “It never crossed my mind, Elizabeth.”

She laughed, kissing his earlobe. “Of course not.”

The crowd broke up as the horses and their riders retreated into the stable for a relaxing intermission. Darcy and Lizzy meandered, pausing for occasional chats, although most of the people were far too nervous to attempt conversation with their stoic Master. A number of blankets had been spread over the extensive yard, upon which sat feasting families or flirting couples. Encountering all three of the Bingleys, they together headed to the middle enclosure where another performance had just started. Colonel Fitzwilliam was already there with Kitty and Georgiana.

This roughly rectangular grid of lawn was intersected with ropes stretched taut and narrow beams positioned anywhere from one to six feet off the ground. An Italian family of acrobats, five male and one female, were displaying their skills of balance, flexibility, and agility. Dressed in skin tight clothing similar to the trick riders, tinted in vivid shades of red and blue with flowing gauze scarves attached to the arms, legs, and waists, they resembled human butterflies. In a truly impressive exposition, they walked along the ropes, the thinnest no thicker than a man's thumb, sometimes using long poles or umbrellas to balance. They flawlessly traversed all the ropes, stopping frequently to raise one leg in all directions, bending over both forward and backward, twirling about, hand standing, tumbling, swinging, and more. Usually, they performed individually, but on the wider beam they worked in teams. They leapfrogged over each other, climbed onto shoulders or feet as high as all six of them, and contorted their bodies over each other in truly grotesque ways.

The stronger men grasped the lithe woman and completely tossed her high into the air, always catching her after she spun and twisted while flying. The people gasped and screamed, clapping enthusiastically at each demonstration of incredible aerodynamics. Lizzy was sure they were going to fall at least a dozen times but they never did. The spectators went crazy, applauding loudly with whistles and shouted praise, the acrobats bowing deeply in all directions, at the last toward the Darcys.

The sun was nearly set, the fading rays casting long shadows over the landscape. All the torches and lanterns had been lit so the area was well illuminated. The younger children were asleep in the pavilion, the orphans being rounded up to return to their home, and the older children were finishing the games or chasing each other about the grounds amongst the roaming adults. Young singles fortuitously grasped the social situation to claim dances or, if very lucky, a stolen kiss. Adults reveled in the rare delight of large quantities of food, relaxation, and fun. The wine was brought out as the sun slipped lower on the horizon, stars appearing as the air cooled dramatically. The orchestra took their places on the platform and began the process of tuning their instruments.

The Darcys visited the refreshment tent for a cool drink and a snack, Lizzy unable to pass too many hours without ingesting something. To their incredible surprise, Mrs. Langton was lounging on a chair, large body barely fitting amid the armrests, glass of wine in her hand, laughing boisterously at something Mr. Taylor had said. Darcy humorously raised one brow, waving the cook back down as she ungainly attempted to rise.

“Stay seated, Mrs. Langton. I am delighted to see you enjoying yourself. You deserve to reap the bounty of your labors. The food is marvelous and I do believe you and your staff have eclipsed all prior feasts. Mrs. Darcy and I are forever in your debt.”

Lizzy bit her lip to forestall a case of the giggles as the hefty woman blushed and stammered at her Master's praise. Darcy smiled slightly and bowed, clasping Lizzy's elbow and steering her out of the pavilion to leave the servants at their unencumbered amusements.

All the Pemberley Manor residents converged at the last designated area, taking seats in the front rows to await the final show. A sudden hush fell over the audience as the tent flap opened to reveal a small man sedately walking onto the arena. He was costumed in a loose, garish patchwork suit of every shade in the spectrum, enormous blue shoes, face painted with colorful stripes, and head bald. If all that was not enough to awe the crowd, the little clown was walking on his hands! He advanced across the field unhurriedly, gigantic feet flapping and florid face grinning, until he reached the very end whereupon he abruptly crumpled into a heap, lying still as death. The audience collectively gasped, some even rising or taking involuntary steps forward, only to halt mid-stride when the tent flap exploded open and out blasted two more clowns. One was dressed as outrageously as the hand-walker, a fluttering ball of color with hundreds of brightly patterned strips of fabric apparently glued onto every inch of his body, a scarlet wig, oar-sized boots of green, and red circles about his eyes and mouth. He was running pell-mell and steering a rickety wooden wagon, inside of which sat the third clown. He was costumed as a proper English gentleman, only highly exaggerated. The collar of his waistcoat extended way past his ears, the cravat knotted at least three dozen times and some eight inches beyond his chin, jacket tails touching the ground, baggy breeches with three-inch wide knee buckles, and, of course, huge shoes. All this topped off with a ridiculously high beaver hat.

The audience was roaring as the wagon-driving clown raced haphazardly about the arena, finally skidding to a halt near the “unconscious” clown, tipping the wagon and unceremoniously dumping the English clown onto the grass. Acting in pantomime, the outraged Englishman righted himself, scolding the contrite clown who rushed to assist him in dusting off and fixing his clothing and retrieving his spilled accessories, wreaking havoc with every move while the Englishman grew further comically incensed. Gathering his belongings, a mammoth black leather physician's bag and cracked monocle, also ridiculously large, the English clown was unveiled as a doctor arriving to revive the fallen clown. Opening his bag and randomly extracting a number of strange metal devices, including decidedly non-medical items like a quill, spoon, shoehorn, toothbrush, and more, the doctor attempted to examine his clown patient. Naturally, he was hindered by the fumbling assistance of the other clown, who constantly tripped, handed him the wrong instrument, punched and poked, stabbed with the quill, and on and on.

It was absolutely hysterical, not a soul in the audience without tears from laughing. The stricken clown was eventually cured by the good doctor, so ecstatic to be alive that he tumbled and jumped and vaulted about the arena, launching into the seats to delightedly pat and hug and tease the audience. More clowns joined the fray, capering through the people and playing tricks. For another half an hour, they interacted with the onlookers in various humorous ways: tweaking noses, discovering hidden coins behind ears and in pockets, tickling, pulling endless ribbons of scarves from sleeves, and so on. The entire ring was a multihued plethora of other clowns falling over each other, running on spinning barrels, juggling balls and clubs and even knives, dazzling with magical sleights-of-hand, and performing daring acrobatics. It was an astounding pageant, the perfect crescendo to the trio of stunning entertainments. Not a soul was left wanting as full darkness descended and the guests laughingly wandered toward the food pavilion for sustenance before dancing.

People were randomly weaving their way to the grassy flatland alongside the lake where the orchestra platform was stationed. Kitty began bouncing on her toes while Georgiana grew paler by the second, Richard laughing at both the girls who tightly clutched his arms for very different reasons. Leaving the others on the edges of the assembling dancers, Darcy escorted his wife to the platform, stepped upon the raised dais, and walked to the middle. He stood quietly; the Master of Pemberley poised domineeringly and aristocratically with his exquisitely genteel wife at his side, linked arm in arm. Darcy had no need to say a word, the crowd respectfully quieting instantly under the gaze of their Master.

“Mrs. Darcy and I are delighted to see you all enjoying yourselves. If I may be granted a moment to interrupt the festivities,” he paused and smiled slightly, “and I do promise it shall only be a moment.” Hushed laughter spread through the company. Darcy continued in his resonant voice, lifted loudly to reach the press of people, “The majority of you have served the Darcy family for long years, decades in many instances. Your faithful employment and devotion has persevered unwaveringly and undeterred. Those of you who remember the Festivals of the past know that it was an essential part of Pemberley life. A sincere offering by the Darcy family to express our appreciation for your dedicated and arduous labor. For too many years, grief has ruled the Manor and these communications of our thanks have been suspended. I am thrilled beyond measure to stand before you as Master and proclaim that grief is unequivocally an emotion of the past. Therefore, it is with tremendous joy that I and Mrs. Darcy,” he glanced to Elizabeth with a beaming smile, “the Mistress of Pemberley, welcome you formally to the first of many years of celebrations. With that declaration, let the party resume!”

The congregation cheered, clapping enthusiastically. Darcy turned to the orchestra, signaling them to begin, then bowed deeply to his wife and extended his hand formally. Elizabeth curtseyed, clasping his hand as he led her onto the dance floor, assuming the first place in the line. The orchestra launched into a lively gavotte, couples rapidly filling the space. Charles escorted his wife, Kitty was with Colonel Fitzwilliam, Dr. Penaflor partnered Anne de Bourgh, and Dr. Darcy dragged Georgiana. Unfortunately, the odd number of men to women in their company meant that Caroline was left alone. Luckily, she did not particularly care, the idea of dancing on the grass with a mass of commoners not overly appealing to her.

When the music ended on an upbeat note and blaring crescendo from the orchestra, the crowd erupted again into hurrahs and applause primarily directed toward the Darcys. Darcy bowed, offering his arm once again to his wife, and together they regally departed the scene. Strolling casually toward the Manor, they halted frequently to nod or converse briefly with a guest. Darcy sought out the head groundskeeper, Mr. Clark, and shared a whispered conversation with a couple of gestures toward the distant inky outline of the Greek Temple. Darcy nodded in satisfaction, reacquiring his wife's hand to resume their slow ramble, and they finally reached the sanctuary of the terrace.

Darcy had made it very clear to Lizzy that it would be highly improper for the Master and Mistress to invade the festivities or mingle overly with the attendees. She had been skeptical at first, but as he explained it, her understanding grew.

“First of all,” he had told her, “they will not be able to fully relax and enjoy themselves if I am hovering nearby. Since the purpose of the Festival is to extend our thankfulness in the form of their complete gratification, it would be remiss of us to deter said gratification by creating an atmosphere of unease by our presence. I want them to forget, for a time, that they are servants or employees. Secondly, at the risk of being branded haughty and arrogant, it is unsuitable for us to mingle socially with our servants.” Lizzy had frowned slightly and Darcy had taken her hand. “I know you abhor such distinctions, Elizabeth, and a part of me agrees with you. Nonetheless, it is the world we live in and for all that it may seem unkind or pompous, these class divisions have served our country well for hundreds of years. Even if I wished to alter it, and I in truth cannot say I do, few would follow my lead. Most importantly, our servants and tenants would be the loudest protesters! They are comfortable and well cared for, therefore having no wish to deviate from the status quo.”

Lizzy had assented to his decision, although not wholly agreeing with his assessment of their reception. Tonight, however, as they ambled amongst the people, she had noted clearly the immediate stiffening and mask of formality that fell over each face as they approached. Gazing out over the boisterous, clusters of folk and comparing that with the instantaneous decorum and tenseness that ensued upon the presence of the Darcys, Lizzy finally comprehended. In a strange way, it was the last turn of the key, the final stroke of the axe which severed her old way of thinking and completed her transition into the Mistress of Pemberley.

Now, she happily flopped onto the sofa, suddenly tired and desirous of the solitude found in the shadows. Few lights had been lit, mostly those glowing from inside the parlor, yet the location of the raised terrace offered a panoramic view of the grounds. Darcy dragged a chair over and lifted her feet onto it.

“There,” he said. “Are you comfortable, love?”

“Yes,” she answered with a laugh, “but why the chair?”

“You have been on your feet for hours and the book states that pregnant women's feet can swell.” Lizzy glanced to her perfectly slender and tiny feet but chose not to point the fact out. Darcy continued, “I am going to pour myself a brandy. Do you wish for anything?”

“A small glass of wine would be lovely, thank you, dear.” He kissed her forehead and disappeared into the house. Lizzy sighed contentedly, rising to retrieve several remaining meat rolls and a croissant from the dinner table. Darcy returned shortly and they sat quietly, nibbling and sipping as the revelry persisted.

From their hidden vantage point, they could espy most of what transpired on the dance area. Richard was occupied for each dance, the man apparently tireless. Lizzy had delighted to see him lately in attire other than his military uniform. She adored Richard and thought him a handsome man—naturally not as much as her husband, but a fine figure in any suit. Today, as yesterday, he had dressed casually but nonetheless regally, in snug pantaloons of beige and a jacket of russet and gold. Dr. Penaflor had worn shades of grey with a waistcoat of forest green, all designed to accentuate his exotic darkness. He primarily squired Anne, although careful to accompany every other woman as well. Anne was beautiful in a gown of blue and white, modestly cut but not as severe as the majority of her gowns. Naturally, George drew the most attention in his vibrant fuchsia, dancing with feline grace and refinement. Georgiana appeared to relax with each subsequent turn on the floor, none of the gentlemen allowing her to evade. Even Caroline had apparently relinquished her disdain, as Darcy noted her frequently partnered with each man.

For three hours, Darcy and Lizzy reclined in isolation, happily observing the fun. They talked softly, kissed frequently, and cuddled. On occasion, they were visited by someone from the party, usually seeking brief respite and refreshment, only to be snatched away forthwith by a seeking dance partner. There were enough interruptions for Darcy and Lizzy to curb their improper urges, maintaining a regulated decorum in their mild intimacy.

As the midnight hour approached and the orchestra announced the last two sets, anticipation for the final crescendo to the Festival began to rise. Upon entrance to the party, the Darcys had informed each guest to, if possible, remain until after the dancing as they had a special treat planned. None knew what to expect, but based on the grand exhibitions and entertainments offered thus far, the fever pitch of expectation was high.

The last dance ended to extended applause for the outstanding musicians. Folks wandered about in small groupings, not sure what to expect or where to look. Darcy rose to stand prominently at the terrace railing, Lizzy embraced tightly to his chest, both gazing toward the dark knoll above the Cascade Falls, the intermittent flicker of light visible if one attended to the area. Within fifteen minutes word had spread, folks noting the direction the Darcys were staring and turning to peer curiously upward. A hush fell, everyone holding their breath without consciously realizing it, breaths released in a collective gasp of stunned awe mere seconds later.

With a thunderous boom piercing the calm, a rocket was launched far into the starry black sky, exploding loudly into a brilliant shower of gold sparkles. The crowd erupted into claps of joy, the sound instantly lost amid the next rocket blast, this with a rain of white. For twenty minutes, the combined noise of rocket detonations and cheering ruled as the sky above Pemberley lit up with dazzling shimmers of red, gold, blue, white, orange, and green in dozens of shapes and sizes.

Interspersed with the enchanting aerial displays, the firework technicians hired by the Darcys lit a profusion of ground level pyrotechnics. Dense showers of brightly colored sparks resembled water spewing from fountains; fireworks set on small floats drifted down the Falls as the light reflected off the water; and elaborate sculptured shapes were set aflame with a profusion of color. The shapes were myriad: a rose of red, a horse of gold, the flag of England in red and blue and white, “PEMBERLEY” spelled in orange, a dog in white, and—the masterpiece—an enormous detailed replica of Pemberley Manor in gold.

This last was lit simultaneously with the discharge of a dozen rockets; the resulting illumination was brilliant and bathed the entire grounds in nearly broad-daylight radiance. It was stunning; the assembly was momentarily dumbfounded as silence descended in a crashing wave only to be replaced seconds later by a deafening barrage of clapping and yelling. Reports later received indicated that the colorful lights were seen in Lambton to the east, Baslow to the north, and Rowsley to the south. The satisfying finale was stupendous and would be remembered for decades hence.

Darcy hugged his wife, drawing her again into the shadows and turning her about in his arms. He pressed her into his chest, embracing with intense emotion. Speaking huskily to the top of her head, he said, “Elizabeth, you accomplished all this. You! I am so very proud of you. I am… overwhelmed.” He finished in a whisper, caressing her back as he held tight.

Lizzy melted into his embrace, happy and relieved. Withdrawing only enough to grasp her chin with his palm, Darcy bent to kiss her lips tenderly. Meeting her glittering eyes and smiling, he softly said, “Come, beloved, let us retire. The others can fend for themselves. I want to hold you in my arms and whisper into your beautiful ears my abounding adoration.”

With his arms firmly about her, they ascended the stairs to their chamber where Darcy did precisely as he promised… and more.