Mr. Woodhouse bemoaned the departure of “poor Mrs. Darcy” from Hartfield. He exhorted her to dress very warmly for the journey to Brierwood, and made her promise never to eat bisque. He also hinted that when she arrived at the home of Colonel and Anne Fitzwilliam, she should look inside her trunk for one final mysterious message.
Elizabeth smiled when she found it. Though penned in the less-than-steady hand of Mr. Woodhouse himself, it was easily deciphered.
Serle’s recipe for gruel.
In general, it was a very well approved match. Some might think him, and others might think her, the most in luck.
Darcy and Elizabeth enjoyed a happy Yuletide with their daughter and Georgiana at Brierwood, and continued on for several weeks afterward with Colonel and Anne Fitzwilliam. Yet their unanticipated adventure in Highbury made them anxious to return home to the serenity of Pemberley, and so, not long after Twelfth Night passed, they journeyed northward. As their coach entered Derbyshire, Elizabeth welcomed the familiar landscape.
“Will you be ready to travel south again in the spring?”
Darcy, she knew, had been quietly observing her — inasmuch as there was anything quiet about the inside of their carriage on this trip. Lily-Anne, just learning to walk, was impatient with the confinement of recent days.
She shifted Lily-Anne to her other knee, wrapped her arms around her, and rested her chin on her daughter’s head. A smile spread across her face. “Indeed, yes.” She had promised Anne to return for her lying-in. Georgiana would accompany her. On that visit, Elizabeth would bring with her another family heirloom that had once belonged to Darcy’s mother.
“I was thinking that perhaps after Anne’s confinement, you might join us, and we could all take a summer holiday,” Elizabeth said. “Mrs. Knightley told me that she and her husband went to the seaside for their wedding- trip, and she highly recommended it. I have never been to the sea, but I would like very much to see it.”
“Oh, can we?” Georgiana asked. Lily-Anne expressed her approval of the scheme by squirming vigorously.
Elizabeth sensed reluctance on Darcy’s part, and understood its source. She knew he had little inclination for spas and watering-holes, and the shallow society they often attracted. “We do not have to choose the most fashionable town,” she assured him. “Indeed, I had just as soon not.”
He leaned towards her, lifted Lily-Anne, and settled their daughter on his own lap. The infant reclined against Darcy’s chest and ceased her struggles. At just shy of a twelvemonth, Lily-Anne already knew better than to misbehave for her father.
“The seaside?” He raised one brow at his wife and heaved an exaggerated sigh.
Then he bestowed on Elizabeth her favorite of all his expressions — the one that said he loved her more than he could convey in words — and smiled.
“Perhaps I can be persuaded.”
