My Dearest Mr. Darcy: An Amazing Journey into Love Everlasting

Chapter Ten Fading of Summer

They were home. Happily ensconced in their familiar surroundings and gradually readapting to the regular pace of Pemberley. To their surprise, Georgiana had returned home two days prior to their arrival from Leicestershire. She doubly astonished them, especially Darcy, by not flying pell-mell down the stairs and launching like a jackrabbit into his arms. Instead she stood sedately on the top step of the entrance portico, dressed in a very fashionable gown with her hair pinned up in a jewel-accented style. She smiled radiantly with eyes shining, but in all ways appeared a young woman.

Darcy did not quite know how to feel. On the one hand he was instantly struck by how beautiful she was in her grown-up poise and discipline, and his pride soared immeasurably. On the other hand, his heart was stabbed with an acute ache at the final vestiges of his baby sister apparently erased overnight. Then at the last second, as he mounted the final steps below her, she suddenly bounced on her toes, squealed, and vaulted into his ready embrace.

“Oh William! I missed you so!”

He smiled into her hair, recognizing the pure selfish happiness rushing through him in knowing that there were at least a few traces of the child in the woman he squeezed tightly to his chest. “My sweet Georgie. I missed you more.”

She pulled inches away with a grin, delivering a quick peck to his cheek. “I rather doubt that, brother dear, as you had Elizabeth to assuage your heart.”

“Yes, but there are some places even a beloved wife cannot touch.” He kissed her forehead and then released her with a broad smile.

“Does your sister warrant such a greeting?”

“Oh Elizabeth! Look at you!” The two women embraced, Georgiana unable to tear her eyes from the significantly larger waistline.

Elizabeth laughed, placing both hands on her belly. “Yes, it is quite impressive, is it not? I found myself competing with the whales at the coast!”

Chatter and stories from all parties was rampant long into the evening. Georgiana was far more effusive than her brother or sister, as they were frankly exhausted, Lizzy actually falling asleep on Darcy's shoulder mid-adventurous tale. It would take days, but finally all gaps were filled and Georgiana too fell into the old routines of life at Pemberley.

The newlywed Olivers had also returned prior to the Darcys. Darcy and Lizzy found their personal servants attending to their duties and relatively unchanged except for the occasional dreamy expressions noted when happened upon unawares. Other than asking Samuel two or three general questions about the weather and sights around the Lake District, which his valet answered in short sentences, Darcy made no other inquires. His curiosity was not adequate to overcome the extreme mortification that would assuredly ensue if he did ask Samuel anything remotely personal. Marguerite was a bit more forthcoming regarding the various activities she and her new husband had partaken in, praising the countryside and accommodations, but gave nary a hint of anything intimate. Most information was gleaned from Mrs. Reynolds, who informed her employers that the Olivers were very happy and contentedly established into their apartment. It was further revealed that the previously stoic, excruciatingly bashful Samuel was looser now, both Olivers increasingly approachable and sociable.

Two days after returning home, Lizzy sat in the music room attending to the household ledger with mildly swollen feet propped up on an ottoman. Georgiana sat at the pianoforte providing background music. It was a quarter after four in the afternoon and pleasantly warm with a faint breeze blowing through the open patio doors. Darcy was away, had been since very early in the morning, observing the final wool baling and delivery preparations.

Phillips entered upon Lizzy's acknowledgement, bowing formally and announcing that there were two gentlemen in the foyer asking to speak with the Mistress as Mr. Darcy was absent.

“Who are they?” Lizzy asked with raised brows.

“They did not offer their names, madam.”

“How odd,” she murmured, rising with a shrug toward Georgiana, who also rose to trail along curiously.

“Madam, can we two lonely travelers intrude upon your hospitality for the fine Irish whiskey reputedly lurking in the liquor cabinet at Pemberley?”

“Whiskey, brandy, port, whatever you wish for, kind sirs, but first give us a kiss!”

Georgiana had already released a cry of delight and dashed to her favored uncle, Lizzy turning to a grinning Richard Fitzwilliam for a kiss.

“Richard! What a wonderful surprise! We were expecting this wayward traveler to breeze in eventually,” Lizzy laughingly declared with a gesture toward George Darcy, “but you are an unanticipated albeit fantastic addition.”

“He attached himself to me in London,” George declared, “and I could not rid myself of him. Pathetic, really, so I dragged him along. Elizabeth, you appear to have swallowed an enormous ball.”

“I wish it were that simple as then it would be lightly filled with air and not expanding further. Come, gentlemen, whiskey is secured in the liquor cabinet. Phillips, your penance for being roped into deception by these two mischief makers is to bring us a tray of comestibles for our weary travelers.”

She linked arms with Richard, who said, “You look quite well, Elizabeth. How are you faring?”

“Very well, all considered. I have a husband who dotes most profoundly and a sister nearly as devoted, so I am not allowed to overtax.”

“Where is the doting husband, by the way?”

“At the wool barn. I do not know when he shall return, but he usually arrives in time for dinner.”

George laughed. “William miss a meal? Do not be ridiculous. Whiskey, Colonel?” he asked as he crossed directly toward the liquor cabinet.

“Please. Georgie, I want to hear all about Wales. Your letters were expository and Mother enumerated additionally, but I wish to hear more from your own lips. Especially, my dear cousin and ward, about this Lord Gruffudd you so eloquently chronicled.”

Georgiana blushed scarlet. Lizzy chuckled, laying one hand softly on Georgiana's arm. “Richard, for shame! Do not tease your cousin so. Can a young woman not notice a handsome man and gush to a trusted guardian without being interrogated? Besides, ladies need their little secrets.”

“Very well, I am properly chastised. Forgive me, Miss Darcy.” He bowed gallantly her direction. “Skip past Lord Gruffudd to your birthday celebrations. I believe you were in Cardiff at the time?”

Georgiana overcame her embarrassment and launched into a detailed account of the merriment delivered by her aunt and uncle for her eighteenth birthday. Refreshments were brought and the small group exchanged stories for the next hour with much laughter ensuing.

Darcy was greeted to the distinct sound of revelry drifting down the hall as he discarded a dusty coat into the waiting hands of Mr. Taylor. “We have visitors?”

“Yes, sir. Dr. Darcy and Col. Fitzwilliam arrived this afternoon.”

Darcy nodded, striding briskly to the parlor, and paused on the threshold to view the scene. Col. Fitzwilliam stood in the middle of the room with arms gesticulating as he related what Darcy quickly ascertained was a tale of foolish new cadets attempting to learn marching maneuvers. Lizzy and Georgiana were laughing gaily, while a grinning George sat sprawled on his deceased brother's favored chair with long maroon-covered legs crunched into the minimal space.

“I leave for the day and all manner of disorder arises. Pemberley apparently now hosts anyone who wanders by?”

“With such fine whiskey and beautiful, charming women in residence, it is only to be expected, William,” George retorted with a follow-up sip of the amber liquid in his glass.

“I assuredly cannot argue the charming women, or the whiskey for that matter. Richard, it is wonderful to see you. I trust all is well?”

“Tolerably, cousin. I urgently needed to breathe fresh air and escape the adolescents lately come to my regiment. Besides, Dr. Darcy required a companion on the road. To keep him safe, you understand.”

George snorted, Darcy chuckling as he crossed to his wife and sister. “Georgie dearest,” with a quick kiss to her cheek before lifting Lizzy's fingers to his lips. “Beloved, you are well?”

“Perfect, dear. I have been marvelously entertained. Our guests seem to be bursting with amusing anecdotes.”

“Passes the time, I suppose. Uncle, we have had no news since Devon. What have you been up to? And please tell me Darcy House is yet habitable?”

“No worries, William. The cousins all send their best wishes. We spent a week on the coast, then I departed to visit friends in Dorset. I actually was only in London for four days, which is why Darcy House is undamaged. Mrs. Smyth expressed her sadness to see me depart, but I longed for Pemberley. Nothing quite compares to the autumn here.”

“I am discovering the same,” Lizzy said. “William told me the gardens were particularly lovely in the fall, and he was not exaggerating.”

“Of course,” Richard interjected. “This is your first autumn here! I had forgotten. Mr. Clark and his staff are remarkable. My parents should allow him to train their gardeners.”

“I arrived at the end of autumn past, but the rains and cold weather set in shortly thereafter so William had little opportunity to acquaint me extensively with the gardens. Except for what I could see from windows, that is.”

“What a shame,” George murmured. “Holed up inside with nothing to do all winter. How trying that must have been.” He glanced slyly at his nephew, who was approaching with whiskey decanter in hand.

“Yes,” Darcy intoned dryly. “It was terribly stressful, but we managed.” He refilled his uncle's glass without meeting his eyes. “Of course, it was blessedly quiet. Virtually relative free until Christmas.”

“Ah, Christmas at Pemberley.” George dreamily stared into space, ignoring Darcy's playful slur.

“Will you stay for Christmas, Uncle?” Georgiana asked with a pleading tone.

“We shall see, dear. I am enjoying my leisure. By the way,” he pulled a folded piece of parchment from his pocket, “it is a bit crinkled, I fear, but I have a missive from Raul. Have either of you heard from Miss de Bourgh?”

Lizzy shook her head negatively, Darcy responding, “Not for a month. I rather assumed she was otherwise entertained.”

“Apparently quite so. Raja states that all is progressing smoothly. He is working at the hospital in Ashford as well as offering his services throughout the community as required. Lady Catherine is now singing his praises to all who will listen, probably questioning when he will officially propose and increase her prestige in society.”

“Undoubtedly Miss de Bourgh wonders the same,” Lizzy said.

“So he has not secured her hand as of yet? What is he waiting for?” Darcy was honestly surprised.

“Soon, I garner from his letter. He wanted to be established somewhat, earn Lady Catherine's undying respect and approval, and shower Miss de Bourgh with the full treasure trove of courtship rituals. I gather he has exhausted the arsenal of romantic tomfoolery, so with nothing remaining, engagement is imminent.”

“Hopefully he has left a few romantic gestures in reserve. Women appreciate that sort of thing.” Lizzy smiled winsomely at her husband.

“Is this true, Darcy?” Col. Fitzwilliam asked with a raised brow and smirk.

“I have found it to be so, yes. You would do well to remember the information, cousin.” Richard shuddered, taking a quick sip of whiskey.

Lizzy laughed. “We must find a nice lady for you, Richard. You are far too wayward. Capricious, poor soul. You need a steady girl to stabilize you.”

“Shackle, you mean,” George spoke in defense of his friend. “Not all men are destined for domesticity, dear Elizabeth. Some of us prefer being footloose and fancy free! Although having a woman about can have its advantages, I suppose. Back massages, home decorating, darning socks, that sort of thing, eh, William?”

“Precisely, uncle. That is why I chose marriage,” Darcy answered seriously, eyes twinkling and meeting Lizzy's.

“The day I darn socks will be the day the sun fails to rise. Back massages are acceptable, however.” She and Darcy shared a brief, knowing smile.

Yet holding his wife's eyes, Darcy spoke to his uncle and cousin, “Speaking of matrimony, I am thankful that you both are here and do pray you intend to stay for a while. Elizabeth has agreed to marry me, again, in a ceremony at Pemberley Chapel.”

Col. Fitzwilliam smiled delightfully, lifting his glass Lizzy's direction. George whistled and declared with a grin, “Romantic gesture of the highest order, indeed. Well done, William! How marvelous for me as I missed the official nuptials. When is the date?”

“We have not decided as of yet,” Darcy answered, still gazing at Lizzy. “I was opting for November twenty-eight as a perfect commemoration of the happiest day of my entire life.”

“I, however,” Lizzy interrupted softly, “reminded my husband that I will be as enormous as a house by late November, if not in the actual throes of birth travails. Additionally it somehow seems irreverent to waddle down the church aisle to be wed while clearly nearly to burst with child!”

“I do believe, my dear niece, that it is far too late to hide that fact. Besides, I am sure God is privy to the fact that you two are already legally and spiritually bound, and shall withhold the lightning bolt.”

Lizzy reddened but persevered, “All true, Dr. Darcy. I think we should wait until after the baby is born…”

“And I,” it was Darcy's turn to interrupt, “refuse to wait that long. I have a burning urge to exchange vows with my wife in the Darcy family chapel. She has accepted my proposal so cannot renege on the agreement.” He spoke with a slight edgy tone and clenched jaw, but wore a smile for Lizzy and eyes indigo with desire.

“Well,” George boomed as he rose with a spine-cracking stretch, “I am free all next week. You, Colonel?”

“My docket is empty for a couple weeks,” Richard shrugged. “A wedding is an adequate entertainment, I suppose.”

With the family thus settled, the last weeks of September glided by with happy serenity felt all around. The weather held clement and sunlit during the day with a slight chilling come sundown. The gradual metamorphosis about the extensive grounds began as autumn colors invaded, leaves burnished with golds and reds. The emergence of the multihued dahlia, purple toad lily, marguerite daisy, calendula, nasturtium, rosemary, and salvias provided a fresh plethora of vibrant color and fragrance to the summer-fading blooms. The numerous bushes with variegated foliage accented the already dazzling displays. The gardeners were especially busy preparing the vast gardens for the winter freeze and spring flowering, bulbs arriving by the wagon loads.

Lizzy watched the digging for several days before gathering the nerve to ask Mr. Clark if she could assist with the care of the private garden to the east of the manor. If he was shocked or dismayed in any way by her request, it did not show. Thus it was that Lizzy could be found most days on her knees in the soft turf with two gardeners named Robert and Harry aiding nearby. Naturally the modest garden was already faultless, and Lizzy had no desire to radically transform anything. She merely wished to plant a few of her favorite plants and to fulfill a long-standing pleasure to work with soil and flora, gardening having always been a pastime she enjoyed.

Additionally, she resumed her duties as Mistress. She had not consciously recognized missing the simple household tasks while on her holiday, but once confronted with the pile of papers Mrs. Reynolds had carefully organized on her desk, she delved in with nearly as much gusto as Darcy. Naturally Mrs. Reynolds had managed all matters efficiently during her Mistress's absence, but she had no qualms with relegating authority to Mrs. Darcy. Rather she considered it her proper duty to do so. Thus the ledgers, purchasing notes, detailed lists of tasks completed, staff concerns, and so on were methodically perused in a series of meetings between the two women over several days.

Lizzy and Darcy rediscovered the contentment of evenings working side by side at their sitting room desks and in the joyful sharing of estate business. They naturally fell into the previous pattern of quietly attending to individual tasks or engaging in extended discussion of estate affairs. Darcy had accepted his wife's innate common sense that frequently opened a new avenue of thought regarding a subject or dilemma. However, in general he managed the business of Pemberley with minimal input, and Lizzy was unconcerned since she knew he did not need her participation. Plus there was still a large amount of his ventures that she simply did not comprehend. Instead, the dialogues were more for the joy of sharing.

Lizzy's curricle was utilized frequently as the fair weather continued. Darcy fretted, as always, but kept his fears mostly hidden. His only stipulation—stated softly but with an edge—was that she never travel too far and always have Georgiana as her companion. To this she agreed. Fortunately her dearest friends were in close proximity.

Sanburl Hall, home of Harriet Vernor, was less than two miles from door to door. She could easily walk the distance, and had numerous times during the spring and early summer months, but walking long distances was fast becoming a difficulty. Marilyn Hughes lived three and a half miles away, Rymas Park nestled on the edge of Rymas Brook and such a beautifully serene locale with the forest encasing the quaint house that Lizzy delighted in her visits there. The need to feel the wind upon her face and command the little carriage was too great to completely ignore, so even when a visit was not planned, Lizzy and Georgiana would commandeer the vehicle for a jaunt about the estate and a picnic.

Generally, however, her friends chose to visit Pemberley, all of them understanding the necessity for their pregnant friend to remain close to home. Julia Sitwell and Alison Fitzherbert, who lived near each other in the region north of Chesterfield, journeyed together for a stay of three days. Of course it pleased Darcy considerably to have his wife safe within Pemberley's walls, a fact not entirely lost on any of the women!

When not attending to business of some kind, digging in the garden, or visiting with her lady friends, Lizzy was usually with Georgiana.

“What song are you playing? I have never heard that one before.” Lizzy glanced up from her embroidery, directing the question toward her sister-in-law, who was entertaining on the pianoforte.

Georgiana reddened, evading Lizzy's quizzical look. “I wrote it,” she replied in a small voice, speaking louder at the dawning astonishment on Lizzy's face, “but you cannot tell William! Promise me.”

“Why not? It was beautiful, Georgiana. I had no idea you had composed music. I am very impressed and know William would be as well.”

“I do not think he would understand. And besides, it is merely a trifling thing. Not very good at all.”

“I beg to differ. It was lovely. Perhaps not of the quality to worry Mr. Beethoven that he has serious competition, but certainly enjoyable to hear.”

Georgiana laughed at Lizzy's tease. “No, I doubt any true composers need be threatened.” She sighed, her eyes suddenly dreamy. “It was fun to try my hand at writing. Lizzy,” she paused, speaking haltingly when she resumed, “do you believe, as Uncle says, that someday females will be able to… be more… be accepted beyond… not be frowned upon or chastised for pursuing… something else… or. Oh, I am making no sense!”

Lizzy laughed. “I understand you, Georgiana. Your uncle is a bit of a revolutionary, is he not?”

Georgiana nodded, giggling. “Indeed. Although I think he usually says radical comments just to see William's face and enter a debate. Still, it would be nice to have an option in life.”

“Do you not wish to be a wife and mother?”

“Oh yes! Yes, I do!” Georgiana nodded emphatically. “Very much! But,” she rose then, pacing with uncharacteristic energy, “there are times, when I am listening to music, or learning a new piece, when I will see notes upon a sheet in my mind. New notes, joined uniquely as the sounds play within my head, forming sections and whole movements. Cadenza, scherzo, ostinato, toccata. Melodies I have never heard before. Unfamiliar arrangements.”

She stopped, sighing and shrugging. “So I write them down, sometimes. Wondering if they are truly my own ideas or lost remembrances.”

“I see nothing wrong with you placing your musical visions upon paper, Georgiana. If this is a gift you have been granted, then explore it! Creating music, even if only enjoyed by a few, is a beautiful, worthwhile endeavor.”

“You do not think it silly? A waste of time?”

“Of course not. Why is it any different than painting or weaving? If you enjoy writing your own songs, you should. I know I would love to hear more. How many have you composed?”

“Only a few sonatas, an impromptu, and I am working on a nocturne. All of a romantic bent, thus confirming my hopes in life and lack of wild inspiration.” She finished with a laugh.

“What an accomplished woman,” Lizzy whispered with true pride and awe. “Your brother would be immeasurably proud.”

“Truly?”

“Without a doubt. He adores you, Georgiana, and only wishes for your happiness. You have no idea how proud he is of you. Play any of your tunes, especially the one you played for me, and he will probably burst from the joy.”

“Did you know that women are allowed to enroll as students at the Conservatoire in Paris?” She glanced at a nodding Lizzy, her cheeks rosy and voice wistful. “It must be amazing to be surrounded by people desiring to learn nothing but music. To be immersed in music all day. To meet great musicians and singers and composers.”

“You will travel to the Continent, Georgie. You know William plans for it. There you will encounter innumerable opportunities to enhance your skills. Paris is going nowhere and the Conservatoire will wait. Of course, this is provided you do not fall in love with the first man you meet at Almack's next spring.”

“Oh, heaven forbid! William would surely have a heart seizure! I think he would sooner allow me to take the Grand Tour or dwell in Paris than that! Frankly I pray I am refused so I do not have to face such agony.”

Lizzy laughed. “I am sorry to disappoint, my dear, but the odds of that are miniscule.”

“One never knows, Lizzy. The Patronesses are whimsical in their approval. I heard that Angelica Cole was refused and Mary Ward!” Georgiana sat next to Lizzy, her face pale. “William would be devastated if I was denied, but then I am terrified of dancing with all eyes upon me. Oh my, I truly am a mouse as Richard insists!”

“Silly girl! First, Richard calls you his 'little mouse' because you are sweet, adorable, and mild. Second, no Darcy will be refused at Almack's. And third, you have had some practice dancing while in Wales, and after your presentation at Court, Almack's will be nothing.”

Now it was Georgiana who laughed. “You say that because appearing at Court is what you dread!”

“Indeed I do,” Lizzy shuddered. “One look at the gate before St. James's Palace and I knew I never wanted to walk through them. How can you be so complaisant? I was perfectly content to forego all the 'coming out' nonsense. Why does William insist I must?”

“Because you are Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley. He is proud of you and wants everyone to know how immensely fortunate he is.”

“I shall trip over the formal gown and train, I know I shall. Or forget the proper phrases. The Prince will be insulted and I shall be mortified.”

“Nonsense. Aunt Madeline will prepare us adequately, and besides, it is in and out within five minutes. I, on the other hand, will suffer the trauma of a whole evening being stared at and probably tripping over my own feet. It shall be torture!”

“Be cheered, dear sister. William will be there with you as chaperone, most likely glowering at every eligible male in the dance hall, so none of them will have the audacity to ask you to dance anyway!”

Darcy resumed his forays into the storage areas of the attic that had begun with the quest for baby furniture. Along the way he discovered numerous boxes containing a plethora of infant toys, memorabilia, school implements, childhood clothing, and more. Additionally there were the odd pieces of furniture, old clothing and trinkets, and assorted items that frequently sparked a memory. Darcy was overjoyed and rather amazed, the hours spent in investigating the past quite pleasurable. He knew his parents had amassed a large quantity of keepsakes, their penchant for saving valued items a character trait passed on to their children, he just had not realized the breadth. Of course there was also an enormous quantity of what could only be labeled junk: objects that were clearly decades old, moldering and decaying into dust. His organized mind shuddered at the rampant chaos, and although he did not need to add another chore to his docket, he ended up embarking on an extensive cleaning mission. The household staff wasn't exactly thrilled by the expedition but did their assigned duties, while dozens of families in the nearby communities benefited from the used clothing and furniture.

Therefore, what had begun as a simple retrieval of cradle and rocking chair ended up being a massive scourging and a chance to revisit past memories.

Thus it was common during those long days of autumn for Lizzy to discover her dusty spouse surrounded by boxes and scattered piles of oddities. One such day, not too long after their return from the Lathrops, she heard the ghost of his laughter reaching her ears as she approached the narrow stairs leading to the eastern attic where the family artifacts were accumulated. She smiled as she mounted the steps, grinning further at the sight of him sitting on the wooden floorboards with long legs crossed amid the cobwebs and chaos. Coats and cravat had been discarded in the stifling heat of the airless room, folded neatly over a threadbare chair, his fine linen shirt smudged with grime and hands filthy. He was reading a tattered book of sorts, grinning and chuckling.

“What is so humorous?”

He glanced up at his wife, motioning for her to come forward and clearing a space amongst the clutter by his side. “Remember I told you that when I was a boy I attempted to write a story about traveling to another planet? My mother kept it!” He shook his head. “I never spoke of it to a living soul so have no idea how she confiscated it. She kept everything! Every report I wrote, test I took, all my tutor's comments and marks, love notes to my family. Georgie's as well. Her boxes are over there.” He waved to a group assembled in perfect order against a far wall. “I will bring those down so she can look through them.” He shook his head in amazement. “Unbelievable. I fear I have not been so diligent with Georgie's school work, but think Mrs. Reynolds has as some of the items I saw are from well after Father died.”

With barely controlled mirth Lizzy read the juvenile novel of a hero named Admiral Achilles and his red-haired companion Sergeant Hector conquering celestial planets. Darcy glanced at her face and nudged her side. “Go ahead, laugh. God knows I did. Give me some latitude, please, as I think I was eleven when I wrote that.”

“And reading The Iliad at the same time?”

He shrugged, reaching into another box. “I always wanted to be Achilles. Handsome, nearly immortal, fleet, heroic.”

“And how were you supposed to have arrived upon the shores of Mars?”

“I do not think I ever worked that part out. Look here, the puzzles I remember playing with!” He pulled out numerous twisted wooden and metal brain teasers such as those purchased in Derby. “Hmmm… I shall have to take these down and see if I can recall the mystery. Add them to the others that I have yet to solve. This whole box contains classroom apparatus: slates, abacus, a globe, old textbooks… Lord, these are outdated! Why keep such things?”

Lizzy had finished chapter one of the Martian tale, turning to an open box by his feet. The box was larger than the others, really a moderate-sized chest with elaborate scrolling, and had Fitzwilliam etched onto the lid in gold embossed cursive. “What is in here?”

“All my infant things. My grandfather built that chest. He was an incredible whittler. You recall the collection of miniature sailing vessels in the library that he created? Some of these,” he indicated the interlocking wooden puzzles, “were designed by him. He was very gifted. Unfortunately neither my father nor I inherited the talent. Father built a similar chest for Georgiana, but it is more functional than ornate. Hers is in her room as was this one in mine until I moved to the master's chambers. I am not really sure why it ended up in the attic.” He shrugged.

He watched Lizzy pull the various items out, both smiling as he reverently fingered each one. “I thought my mother foolish for keeping so many silly things. Until now, that is. As a soon-to-be father, I appreciate the value of every token, each one a testimonial of a precious moment lived and deserving of remembrance. I suppose when one is young, one imagines that all events are etched permanently upon the mind, but time has a way of eroding some memories, or perhaps the brain can only hold a finite amount of information.”

Among the maternally cherished treasures were two tarnished silver and polished stone rattles; well-gnawed and cracked teething rings of rubber, ivory, and coral; several sets of dented, tarnished miniature dining utensils, cups, and bowls; a stuffed grey Irish wolfhound that was threadbare and lumpy, missing one button eye and floppy ear; three equally ratty, stained blankets; a pouch containing a mass of fine, light brown hair; a collection of bibs, bonnets, booties, and gowns likely special gifts from some relative or friend; a tied bundle of envelopes enclosing birth congratulations; a hairbrush and comb, both missing teeth and bristles; and a dozen odd toys perfect for small hands.

Lizzy had lifted the lid on a tiny silver case lined with scarlet velvet in which resided dozens of varying sized, pearly white teeth. She chuckled, grasping one of the tiniest between her thumb and index finger, “Yes, it is as you say, dearest, but much more.” She placed the tooth onto the palm of his hand, continuing in a soft voice as he gazed at the miniscule white rock lost on his large hand, “It is so that years later you can do precisely what you are doing now, rumbling through old boxes covered in dust and filled with seemingly useless paraphernalia, and know that your parents loved you so much that nothing was deemed superfluous.”

He smiled, rolling the tooth about on his palm. “They waited many years for a son and after losing my sister, I confess I was hideously pampered and a bit spoiled. Then there were all the long years until Georgie. Naturally I was loved, but I judge it was partially because my mother had no one else to dote on.”

Lizzy laughed. “There is likely a great deal of truth in that. I know my mother kept very few of our childhood mementos. What souvenirs I have were kept by me. She was far too busy having more babies, not to mention definitely unsentimental.”

“However many children we are blessed with, Elizabeth, they will be equally overindulged. I promise you that. What's this?” He withdrew a carefully sealed smaller box, placing it on his lap.

Lizzy gasped at the revealed contents, fingers immediately caressing over the delicate fabric. “Is it yours?”

“Must be, as this box contains all my keepsakes. Ah, yes, look here, my birth announcement: Fitzwilliam Alexander James Darcy born to Mr. James and Lady Anne Darcy on November Ten of 1787.”

“It is beautiful.” Lizzy spoke softly, truly stunned by the gown of exquisite satin and Alencon lace overlay. It was white with short puffy sleeves, a lined skirt three feet long with the lace extending three inches to end in a scalloped pattern of leaves and bluebells, and minute pearls sewn over the bodice. “You wore this.” It was a reverently whispered statement rather than a question.

“Apparently. I remember Mother saying she sewed a gown while expecting my sister. There is a box of belongings that were Alexandria's over there,” he pointed to a lone box. “The awaited heir required something extravagant, she said.” He smiled wistfully, eyes dim in memory.

“I cannot believe she created this herself.” She bit her lip, looking shyly to Darcy, who was still lost in reminiscence. “Would you mind terribly if our baby wore this for the christening?”

Darcy snapped to the present with left brow raised in surprise, gazing at Lizzy in bafflement, “Why in the world would I mind? It is your decision, beloved, although I thought you planned to make a gown yourself. Would you not prefer our son to wear something new?”

Lizzy's cheeks were flushed and she ducked her head in embarrassment. “Well, I rather like the idea of him wearing what you wore. A sense of continuity and good fortune. But if you must know the truth, it is partially because I am not skilled enough to create a garment half this lovely, and your heir deserves the best.”

He gently clasped her chin, lifting to meet her eyes as he leaned toward her. “Elizabeth, it is our child who deserves the best in all things, no matter the sex. I do not care what gown he or she wears when baptized, only that he is healthy and that the ceremony takes place. The choice is yours.” He kissed her tenderly, caressing over the soft bulge of their son. “If you sew it, then it will be perfect. If you buy something or have it made, it will be perfect. If you wish to use this gown, then it will be perfect.”

“Thank you, William.”

He stroked over her cheek, leaving smears of dirt. “As for your sewing techniques or lack thereof, I married you even though you are so hideously flawed and I love you anyway.”

He was grinning widely, Lizzy laughing and shoving forcefully so that he nearly fell over. They ended up dust covered, but happy and content when they finally left the sweltering confines. Arms were laden with items that were cautiously if hastily laid aside in the rushing need for a cleansing bath… together.

“Mrs. Darcy,” softly whispered in her ear and accompanied by a tiny nibble and smattering of brushing kisses.

Lizzy stretched, arching blissfully into her husband's body and clasping the warm hand resting on her abdomen. “Rising so early, William. Something special about today?” She turned her head to reach his smiling lips for a glancing kiss.

“Indeed. We are a long way from Hertfordshire and the sun is barely cresting the hills. I have no need to converse with your father or any other Bennets, and can remain unclothed rather than formally attired. Thus I planned no rehashes of the day one year ago when you agreed to be my wife, but I certainly do not intend to forget it.”

He rained tiny suckles over the nape of her neck, Lizzy shivering in pleasure, returning slowly to her ear. “I am as bewitched today as I was then, still desire to never be parted from you, and love you with an ardency multiplied a hundredfold. Thank you, my precious Elizabeth, for agreeing to become my wife.”

“You are very welcome. And do not fret over the lack of celebratory dramatizations. I have a very good memory not to mention the painting to remind me of a significant event in our lives. All things considered, I would rather wake with you unclothed next to me in our bed. Besides, with another wedding fast approaching I am indubitably the luckiest of women in the area of special commemorations.”

He chuckled against the skin of her mid back where he was bestowing all manner of oral delights while wending his way down her posterior side, one hand quite busy over her anterior. Neither would feel in any way slighted by their private choice in how best to honor the day in late September when Darcy proposed successfully.