Loving Mr. Darcy: Journeys Beyond Pemberley

Chapter Seven Happy Birthday, Mr. Darcy

Gracefully escaping from the Bingley Townhouse was an easy task, all parties solicitous of Lizzy's needs. No one commented on Caroline's absence; in truth, only Charles noted her omission from the group. Once safely returned to Darcy House, Darcy ordered his wife to their chamber while he bid the girls wishes for pleasant dreams and performed the ritual task of assuring the house was secure. Lizzy sat on the balcony sofa when Darcy rejoined her, patting the waiting space next to her.

“Night dreaming, my love?” he asked with a soft kiss to her temple.

“Speculating on the morrow and recollecting your birthday. I did surprise you greatly, did I not, William?” She turned, draping her legs over his lap. He smiled, beginning his nightly custom of fondling her belly gently.

“You certainly did! I knew on some level that my birthday was approaching, but all my thoughts during those days were on you and November the twenty-eighth, willing time to hurry. As I was departing London the day before, Mrs. Smyth bid me birthday wishes. I covered myself well, I believe, but the truth is she caught me completely unaware. For a moment I had to perform rapid mathematics, as I had not consciously noted the date since jotting it on a correspondence three days prior!”

“Were you never going to tell me? Keep me thinking you were eight and twenty forever?” She tickled him, earning a chuckle.

“Yes, that was the plan,” he answered drolly. “Perpetual youth. Actually, I fretted all the way to Hertfordshire. I was stuck, you see. If I mentioned it was my birthday, I feared you would feel guilty for not inquiring. I did not wish this, as I truly do not care about such celebrations, at least as regards me. However, if I did not confess, I feared you being hurt, thinking I was withholding a portion of myself. Never would I want you to think this!” He spoke the last with vehemence, Lizzy lifting to hug him close and bestow a kiss.

“I would never harbor such a thought, beloved. Even then we were nearly one flesh, despite not yet being wed.”

He beamed, stroking her downy cheek. “Yes, this is true. In the end you were a step ahead of me and proved, once again, how deeply you love me.” He paused, staring intently into her eyes as he caressed. He resumed, his voice low and husky, “What a road we have traveled, Elizabeth. So many delightful memories already, all which testify to our unique love. I will never forget my birthday, my soul, nor not treasure your gift to me. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she replied, words then lost to passionate kisses as memories of that special event swirled.

Setting: Evening at Longbourn some three weeks after the engagements of the Bennet sisters.

Dinner had finished, the young couples had taken their evening stroll about the grounds, and now all reposed in the parlor. It had become a sort of routine the past three weeks, although on occasion Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy had hosted their fiancées at Netherfield.

Darcy, as always, felt an odd mixture of supreme elation to be with his Elizabeth and annoyance at the presence of the members of her family. Mary was in the other room pounding out a particularly morbid tune on the old pianoforte. Kitty was off somewhere, probably playing with her puppy, Darcy supposed. Jane and Bingley sat on the other sofa in placid companionship. Mr. Bennet sat hunched in the corner chair, alternately reading as he sipped his port and gazing with amused pleasure at his two eldest daughters. Mrs. Bennet bustled about the room, chattering constantly, and being ignored by all.

Darcy sat in one corner of the sofa with a book in his lap propped on a pillow and a tumbler of brandy in his other hand. Elizabeth sat next to him, close enough to feel her warmth and catch an occasional whiff of perfume, yet not actually touching him. She bent diligently over her embroidery, luscious neck arched and oh so very tantalizing.

He shifted uncomfortably, sensuous musings again assaulting his self-control, and forced bedazzled eyes to the page in front of him. He momentarily could not remember his place and, when he did, realized that he had read the same paragraph at least a dozen times and had no idea what it said. In fact, he who could normally devour a book in a handful of days had been attempting to read this one for some two months! To make matters worse, the truth was he had absolutely no clue what the book was even about. He sighed. In point of fact, he had not managed to complete a book since the horrid events at Rosings in April. He kept picking up a different one, telling himself that the book was at fault when he patently knew that was not the root cause of his distraction.

He managed to focus attention enough to finish the current page, but he was again distracted when Elizabeth stretched her neck and brought one delicate hand up to rub her muscles. How he yearned to be the one massaging her aching shoulders! The mental image caused him to grip his glass so tightly that fingers turned white. The all too familiar clench in his groin made him abundantly thankful he had a pillow on his lap. To his increased mortification, he glanced up to see Mr. Bennet staring at him over the top of his book with a wise smile. Darcy flushed and quickly turned his eyes to the book.

He wondered if Elizabeth experienced any of the same discomfort he did. The few chaste kisses they had indulged in had been welcomed by her and—he was convinced—enjoyed. Additionally, he could not erase the passion that had flared between them upon the occasion of their first kiss in Longbourn's garden barely an hour after their engagement. He was confident of her love for him, but remained unsure of its depth. He chided himself for doubting her or for expecting too much too soon. His love, his passionate ardor for her, was of long standing. It often seemed as if he could hardly remember a time when she had not lived in his heart and soul. He understood that her affection for him was more recent and, therefore, perhaps not as profound. He was willing to give her time.

He would have been quite surprised, therefore, to discover the train of her thoughts. His nearness was frankly driving her mad. She was vividly cognizant of every breath he took and every glance sent her direction. His heat radiated and oozed under her skin; his cologne, a mix of cardamom, something vaguely woodsy, and a musky aroma that she rightfully believed was his natural scent, assaulted her senses; and the long-fingered, elegant hands resting on firm thighs elicited graphic images and memories of each time he had touched her. Strange sensations threatened to overwhelm her. Every time he took a sip of brandy she felt a stab of emotion not unlike jealousy! The memory of each and every time his lips had touched hers was etched in her mind and felt deep in her veins. The five weeks remaining of their engagement seemed an eternity.

“Mr. Darcy,” she asked abruptly, hoping to dispel the visions and halt the shivers, “the book you are reading, is it an interesting one?”

Darcy jumped slightly when she spoke. He looked up into her amazing eyes and time stopped. He had no idea what she had said. “I beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth. What did you say?”

She smiled. “I asked if the book you are reading is interesting.”

“Oh! Yes. Quite interesting,” he answered lamely.

“Do you think it would be of interest to me? You know how I enjoy reading. Improves the mind, you understand.”

Darcy laughed softly. “Yes, it does.”

“So, then you believe I may glean value from reading your book? When you are finished, naturally.”

“If you wish, Miss Elizabeth. I would be delighted to lend it to you.”

“I assume it must be a particularly fascinating story. Or possibly it may be too deep for my young mind to comprehend.”

He was puzzled. “I am positive your mind is adept enough to comprehend any topic, Miss Elizabeth.”

“I was concerned, you see, Mr. Darcy, as it has taken you more than an hour to study this one page. In point of fact, you have been reading this book for the past two weeks and are only on page fifteen. I can only speculate, but considering how intelligent you are, the only feasible conclusion is that the story is so extraordinary that you are rereading each paragraph several times for sheer pleasure, or it is necessary to do so in order to decipher the author's intent.” She was smiling impishly and he could not resist laughing.

“You have caught me, my dear.” He glanced quickly around the room, relieved to note that no one was paying them any attention. “The truth is, if you must know, I find myself terribly unfocused whenever I am near you and cannot concentrate. I may be on page fifteen; however, I would be unable to render an accounting of the content thus far.” He blushed faintly but met her dancing eyes. “Does this shock you, Miss Elizabeth?”

“You see this sampler?” She held up her embroidery.

“Yes, of course,” he answered in confusion.

“I have been working on this for a month and should have completed it in a week. These stitches here are all wrong, and I have had to rip this section out three times! And I cannot tell you how many times I have stabbed my fingers. I judge you and I are suffering from the same disease.” She, too, was blushing, but she held his penetrating gaze.

He reached down and squeezed her hand, then brought her fingers to his lips for a tender kiss. His eyes captivated her, crystalline blue orbs darkening slightly in what she now recognized was ardor. “I am very pleased to hear you say that, Elizabeth. You have no idea how pleased.” His voice was muted and husky, imbued with emotion, and her breath caught in her throat. Look away from his eyes, Lizzy! she thought desperately, but could not comply.

In a desperate attempt at levity, she teased, “Pleased, Mr. Darcy, that I have pricked my fingers?”

Darcy, however, was wholly absorbed in her fine chocolate eyes and only smiled. “I am William to you, and my mother used to kiss my wounds to make them better. Should I kiss your aching fingers? Will that relieve your pain?” He proceeded to give the tips of each finger a tiny kiss with full lips soft and warm. Lizzy released a shaky laugh and managed to pull her hand from his grasp, resuming her embroidery with rosy cheeks.

Darcy seemed immeasurably pleased with himself.

“I received a letter from Georgiana today,” she said, needing to change the subject.

“Did you? My sister seems to have forgone writing to me these past weeks in favor of writing to you.”

Lizzy looked quickly at his face. “I am sorry, William! I have no wish to keep her from writing to you.”

Darcy laughed. “I am joking Elizabeth. You know how pleased I am that you and Georgiana are friends.” And it was true. Two days after their engagement, Lizzy had asked him for permission to write to Georgiana. He had lightly scolded, reminding her that Georgiana would soon be her sister. Therefore, he stated emphatically, it was important that they establish a relationship and he, frankly, no longer had any authority over the situation. She had been deeply moved by his assurances, well aware of how dear his sister was to him. It was another of the dozens of ways he daily showed his love for her.

Now he asked, “So what did my sister have to say?”

“Nothing of consequence. Just girl talk.” There it was: the two most effective words in the English language to render any man mute. In actuality, Georgiana had imparted information of extreme significance. It was revealed that Mr. Darcy's twenty-ninth birthday was on November the tenth, less than a month away. Elizabeth was unclear on what she would do with this knowledge, but it assuredly was too important to ignore.

Later that night, as she and Jane were readying for bed, Lizzy told her about Mr. Darcy's approaching birthday. “You must help me think of something special, Jane. This is our first celebration together so it must be memorable.”

“Of course! We have time to plan, and I am sure Mr. Bingley will assist us. Fret not, Lizzy, we shall make it memorable.”

November the tenth, Darcy's birthday and precisely eighteen days before their nuptials, dawned clear but extremely cold with a dusting of snow having fallen in the night. Aware that the weather was unpredictable this time of the year, Lizzy and her cohorts had planned the birthday festivities to take place inside Netherfield. Mr. Bingley had been as giddy as a child at the idea of surprising his friend. In fact, his enthusiasm was so infectious that Lizzy was afraid that he would be unable to keep the secret. Luckily for her, Darcy was so engrossed in his own happiness that he hardly noticed anything Bingley said or did.

Darcy had uttered not a word about his birthday. Although Lizzy was relieved to be able to carry out her plans for surprising him, she did think it odd that he kept silent. She feared that perhaps his normally reticent and shy nature would not welcome being taken unawares. Bingley assured her that he would love it. She worried that he may be wounded as she had not shown interest in establishing when his birthday was. To her chagrin, he had discovered her birthday by boldly asking her mother one evening while at dinner, so maybe he was injured that she had not returned the gesture. She abhorred the very idea of causing him pain, no matter how slight. Thankfully, the day was finally here and soon he would know how special he was to her.

He had returned to Netherfield the previous afternoon, after a short trip of three days to London on business. It was his second such trip since their engagement, and Lizzy missed him terribly when he was gone. His first separation from her had occurred two weeks after their engagement and had only lasted five days. At the time, Lizzy had mentally shrugged, waving adieu with mild sadness but not anticipating how deeply her grief would be by that evening when, for the first time, they did not dine together. It had struck her suddenly and forcibly how utterly his presence had wrapped around her heart. The loneliness she had felt while sitting at the Longbourn dining table with her boisterous family chattering all about was as a knife in her soul. That night she had cried herself to sleep, mortified at her silliness but unable to halt the tears. For the first time in her entire life, she had known what it was to truly mourn and suffer depression. His letters, arriving each day, eased her wretchedness to a degree. Still, her joy upon seeing his staid but oh-so-handsome face had flowed through her in a piercing wave, stunning her in its intensity.

This separation was equally as horrible; however, on this occasion his absence had been fortuitous, as it made carrying out the final plans easier.

It had not been difficult to get Darcy out of Netherfield that morning, since he daily went to Longbourn with Mr. Bingley to meet their fiancées. After the obligatory greetings to Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, Kitty, and Mary, the couples left. Jane had “innocently” suggested that a morning carriage ride to see the freshly fallen snow would be enjoyable. So Mr. Bingley and Jane set out ahead in one phaeton, Darcy and Lizzy following in the other.

It had been almost six weeks since their engagement, and in that time, Lizzy and her betrothed had grown unbelievably close and so very comfortable with each other. They conversed about everything now with an ease that was extraordinarily intimate. The agony of waiting for their wedding day was acutely felt by them both. At times like these, sitting side by side in the carriage with fingers intertwined under the blanket, talking and laughing joyously, their mutual communion and love were overwhelming. Lizzy was hard pressed to remember that they were not already married, such was the level of their unity.

They arrived at Netherfield in time for luncheon. Once they had been relieved of their coats, gloves, and hats, Mr. Bingley took the lead. He offered his arm to Jane and walked toward the dining room. However, he passed by the double doors and continued on down a hall toward a far parlor rarely used. Darcy, who was absorbed in the enchanting appearance of Elizabeth's rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes, did not even notice the detour until they were almost to the door.

“Bingley,” Darcy asked, “where in blazes are you leading us?”

“Thought a change of view would be welcome, Darcy. Come along!”

Mr. Bingley swept the door open and nimbly stepped aside so that Darcy was the first to enter the room. He stopped on the threshold thunderstruck. The normally sober room of muted creams and gold was a riot of bright colors. Yards of ribbons in every color of the rainbow were arranged across the windows and along the ceiling, twisted and tied together with some dangling like branches of a bizarre willow tree. A huge banner was draped over one wall with the words Joyous Birth Day painted on it. The furnishings were pushed against the walls and in the middle of the room sat two tables. One was set for dining with four chairs. The other was laden with wrapped gifts and a cake. The cake was round, white frosting decorated with tiny flowers and leaves, with one tall lit candle in the middle. Darcy had never seen anything like it.

He came to his senses when Lizzy wrapped her arms around his waist and whispered into his ear, “Are you surprised, my love?” Jane and Bingley were smiling at him.

“I am… speechless,” he stammered. He looked at Elizabeth. “Did you plan this? How did you know?”

“Yes I did, with some help obviously, and it was Georgiana who told me,” she replied. “Are you pleased?”

“Yes! Yes, I am!” He enfolded her with sturdy arms and kissed tenderly. Jane and Bingley swiftly turned into the room, letting them have a moment without prying eyes.

“I was afraid you were hurt, thinking I did not care when your birthday was,” Lizzy whispered with a hint of anxiety in her voice.

Darcy kissed her again, stroking over one cheek with feathering fingertips. “Not at all, dearest Elizabeth. My birthday has passed mostly unnoticed for years now. Georgiana always remembers, as does Mrs. Reynolds. Some years I have completely forgotten it myself until they remind me! I will receive a small gift from my sister and my favorite meal for dinner, but that is all. I have not had a celebration of any significance since I was a child. This is so unexpected!”

Lizzy glowed with pleasure. “Well, then, let the festivities begin! After you, Mr. Darcy.”

Luncheon was served first. They were all in high spirits so laughter abounded. After the meal was finished and the servants had cleared the table, a tea service was brought in, but the aroma was definitely not that of tea. It was warm cocoa, a favorite treat of Darcy's. Snow had begun to fall outside, but the room was cozy and the occupants were relaxed.

“So, explain the cake,” Darcy asked. “I have never heard of a candle on a cake before.”

Bingley spoke up, “Lizzy read of a German tradition of placing a single candle, a ‘Light of Life’ was it, Lizzy?”

“Yes. The idea is that the candle symbolizes the life of the person being celebrated. It must stay lit all day and be blown out, by you, at dusk. You can make a wish before you blow it out and it will be granted.”

Darcy smiled. “I am not one to lend credence to silly superstitions, but this seems harmless fun, so I shall play along. It certainly is pretty.”

They spent the afternoon playing several parlor games, charades first. Lizzy and Darcy paired up against Jane and Bingley. They were all astounded to discover that Darcy had a flair for the dramatic and was an exceptional player. Lizzy read his expressions readily now so could guess what he was acting out in short order, and they easily won the most rounds. Next they played Twenty Questions. Lizzy had asked Mr. Bennet, a neutral party, to come up with topics for both games, and he had thoroughly enjoyed conjuring up the oddest things. More than once they were stumped. In the end, Jane and Bingley proved the victors. Lastly, they played blind man's bluff. Darcy always seemed to know exactly where Lizzy was, but she was agile and quick so could easily elude him. Bingley actually proved to be the best player. He had an uncanny ability to outthink another's movements and would catch them every time. Needless to say, whenever a fiancée was caught, a pause would be necessary for a brief interlude of nuzzling and kisses, but no one minded.

Dinner was served late in the evening with the four famished after their activities. Georgiana, upon request, had provided a list of Darcy's favorite foods. Lizzy joked that it was fortunate she had asked Georgiana's advice since she was contemplating serving mutton. Darcy winced and they all laughed. He detested mutton.

After dinner it was time for presents. The table was taken away and a couple of sofas were brought forth. Lizzy sat next to Darcy on one sofa with Jane and Charles on the other. Georgiana had sent her gift: a new riding crop. Charles gave him a pocket watch and Jane a set of handkerchiefs, which she had embroidered with his initials. Darcy was touched that his soon-to-be sister would go to so much trouble for him and he told her so. Jane blushed.

Lizzy handed him her present, wrapped with silk and a blue ribbon the color of his eyes. Darcy opened it gradually, theatrically adding to the tension. Inside was a book: Paradise Lost by John Milton.

“It is the first edition volume,” Lizzy said. “You said you had been searching for that one.”

Darcy was stunned. “Elizabeth, I cannot believe you remember that! I said it in passing when you were at Pemberley, when I showed you the library.”

“I vividly remember every moment and every word of that day,” she said softly, touching his cheek gently with her fingertips. Neither of them noticed that Jane and Bingley arose and crept silently from the room.

He captured her hand and kissed it, then leaned over and kissed her lips. “You are amazing,” he breathed. “I love you so, my Elizabeth. How did you ever find it?”

She laughed. “My father has connections. He is forever adding old books to his collection. He is acquainted with a man at Oxford who specializes in finding unusual volumes. He had three Milton first editions! Open it, there is more.”

Darcy was unsure if his heart could take any more, but he complied. Inside was a bookmark of fine silk with a quilted backing. Lizzy had embroidered in her delicate hand a verse from Genesis: “The two shall become one flesh.” Below were two hearts intertwined with Elizabeth in one and Fitzwilliam in the other.

To say that Darcy was overwhelmed would be a gross understatement. Tears welled up in his eyes and he could not speak. He gathered Lizzy into a tight embrace and simply held her, hoping that his wildly beating heart would express his thankfulness. He finally withdrew, gazing into her eyes with bottomless devotion, and then kissed her with reckless abandon. His soul was fiercely touched. She responded in kind, fingers instantly rising to caress the flesh above his cravat and lace into thick hair as their kiss deepened to a dangerous level. Neither of them wanted to stop, and it took a monumental act of strength to do so.

Darcy cupped her face with both large hands, eyes closed and forehead resting on hers as he attempted to regulate his erratic breathing. “God, Elizabeth! How I want you! How desperately I love you!”

“Two weeks,” she murmured, “just two more weeks, my heart.”

He chuckled harshly and opened his eyes to see her glorious face so near his own. “It feels like an eternity.” He met her lips in a tender, controlled kiss. “Elizabeth, my precious love, this has been the very best birthday of my entire life. How can I ever thank you?”

She smiled naughtily. “Well, my birthday will be here in six months. You can start planning now!” They both laughed and the jocularity lightened the mood. After another brief kiss, they recalled Jane and Charles, who had managed to take advantage of their alone time in like pursuits.

More hot cocoa was served, and then it was time to blow out the candle and have some cake. Darcy made his silent wish, glowing eyes locked with his fiancée's, and cut the cake, performing the honored task of serving the others. All too soon it was time to return the ladies to Longbourn.

Some weeks after, Lizzy and Darcy were in their bed at Pemberley lying in each other's arms. They were in the satisfied haze of post lovemaking, Lizzy gently caressing his chest while Darcy played with her hair. Out of the blue Lizzy spoke. “William? What was your wish when you blew out your birthday candle?”

“I wished that I would forever be as happy as I was at that moment.”

“Has your wish come true, then?”

“No.”

She rose up on her elbow to see his face. “No? Are you not happy?”

He smiled at her troubled face and caressed her cheek. “I wished to be as happy as I was at that moment. Fool that I was, I had no concept of the greater happiness in store for me.” He pulled her face to his but paused just before kissing her, whispering softly, “The ecstasy I feel for you now, my heart, is beyond mere happiness.”

He would proceed to show her precisely what he meant, then and every day for the rest of his long life. Never would he forget his twenty-ninth birthday even though Elizabeth made a point of having a special celebration each year thereafter, and the plotting wheels had begun turning for her birthday some six months yet away.