assuming that any lady who had refused him once was unworthy of him. However, as the truth was revealed, she did understand and eventually recognized that Miss Bennet was precisely what Mr. Darcy so urgently required to heal his wounded heart.
Two months ago she and Miss Georgiana had at long last received the missives they had been longing for. Mr. Darcy’s ecstasy at Miss Elizabeth accepting his hand was uncontainable. Mrs. Reynolds had received hundreds of pieces of correspondence from her master over the years, but none remotely similar to the letters he now wrote. Why, she could remit them to a publisher for a book of romantic musings and poetry! Her heart was overflowing with joy.
Mr. Darcy had been quite specific in his orders regarding the new Mistress. His mother’s chambers had been aired out and thoroughly scrubbed. Old furnishings had been removed. His plan was to allow Mrs. Darcy to redecorate the rooms at her leisure, so for now they needed only to be clean and comfortable. He had purchased several items that had been sent ahead, including a new bathing tub and washbasin, a new mattress, a stationery set for her desk, and an enormous painting of a landscape. All he had hinted was that the scene was special in some way and he wished it to be a surprise for his new bride. The painting was to be hung, he instructed, in her dressing room behind the vanity.
He had entrusted Mrs. Reynolds to acquire any feminine objects that were essential and to stock the bathing room with the finest linens. Numerous odd packages had arrived from Mr. Darcy, trinkets, he told her, that he picked up here and there: various hair accoutrements, perfumes, ribbons, small pieces of jewelry, a musical snuffbox, robes with matching slippers, a set of silk handkerchiefs, several books, and other odds and ends. These she had carefully distributed as he instructed. The last touch was numerous vases of flowers randomly placed about the rooms, the largest a bouquet of white roses and lavender to be placed on the vanity.
He also had detailed directives regarding his own bedchamber and private sitting room. They, too, were to be thoroughly cleaned. New bed linens and coverings of a lighter design than the dark colors he usually preferred were sent. Some of the more masculine furnishings were to be removed and exchanged with new pieces he purchased in Town or with specific objects from elsewhere in the manor. The small table was replaced with a larger one with two overstuffed chairs. The old rug, a remnant from when the rooms were his father’s, was discarded and replaced with a gorgeous Persian carpet of pale blues and golds. The overall effect was subtle; the rooms were already beautifully decorated, but the changes added an airiness that was altogether inviting.
Mrs. Reynolds was not an innocent. She comprehended that her master was of the conviction that his wife would be sharing his quarters much of the time. The former Mrs. Darcy had done so, except for when she was confined or ill, so Mrs. Reynolds was not shocked by this. In fact, it amplified her happiness to know that her master had fallen in love with such a woman.
Mr. Darcy had written to his aunt, Lady Matlock, soliciting her assistance in hiring a lady’s maid for Elizabeth. She had gladly done so, sending three women to Mrs. Reynolds to be interviewed. Mrs. Reynolds had settled on a Frenchwoman of thirty named Marguerite, who was an experienced lady’s maid. Her recommendations were impeccable, and she had agreed to a probationary period pending Mrs. Darcy’s final approval.
The staff had been quite busy over the past weeks ensuring all was in perfect readiness. Mr. Darcy’s last letter had arrived the day of his wedding. He directed Mrs. Reynolds to have a light supper prepared, to ignite the welcome torches on the grounds, to have their chambers warm and well lit, and to assemble the senior household staff for a quick greeting of the new Mistress. The flurry of activity that had descended on the normally placid household was concluded. Mrs. Reynolds strolled, for the umpteenth time, through the house guaranteeing that all was flawless. A sentry was stationed by the main road to alert Mrs. Reynolds the moment the Darcy carriage was spotted.
Nothing for it now but to wait.…
The trip to Pemberley was uneventful. Lizzy was anxious and excited at the same time.
She valiantly feigned composure and serenity, but the amused curl of Darcy’s mouth told her that he was on to her little charade. For probably the hundredth time, she asked him, “How much further to Pemberley?”
“Maybe two more hours, if the weather holds,” he replied, leaning closer to her so he could see around her out the window. “Those clouds do look ready to burst any moment. Luckily the road through here is an excellent one, so even if it does rain, we should not be waylaid.”
She continued to stare out the carriage window. “It is so beautiful here. Is this Derbyshire?”
“The southernmost regions, yes. I had the driver bypass Derby to avoid the congestion. We are some twenty miles south of Lambton. However, we will divert and enter from the south, rather than the west as you did before. I will let you know when we enter our estate lands. The southerly route passes through approximately five miles of our farms.”
Lizzy lifted her brows in surprise. “I had no idea it was so vast!” His use of the word “our” was not lost on her, but she did not comment.
Darcy smiled at her and stroked her cheek. “Yes, it is quite large. It requires several hours to circle the perimeter. Of course, a generous percentage of the land is wild and inaccessible but for horseback. A significant amount is woods, lakes, and rivers, as well as pastures. Game runs free and birds make their homes with little to disturb them except for the occasional hunt. The farmlands are closer to the manor, thus the tenants are within an easy distance.” He leaned back in the seat and lovingly caressed her back.
Elizabeth continued to stare out the window. She did not speak and Darcy could sense her tension, but he kept silent, waiting patiently until she was prepared to open her mind to him. In time she did, but her voice was so low he had to strain to hear her. “What if they do not like me?”
“It does not matter if they do not like you. You are my wife and the Mistress of Pemberley. They are your servants and tenants.” She jerked her head toward him at his blunt words, a ready retort on her lips. He smiled and stopped the flip rejoinder he knew she was about to make by pressing his fingers to her lips.
She peered intently into his eyes, as if searching for any untruth or doubt in his assertions, but there was none. The deep love he felt for her was unmistakably visible, as it always was. Yet, as she examined his eyes, she was again struck forcibly by the unparalleled esteem he held for her. His love for her, although all consuming, unwavering, and unconditional, was not blind or foolish. He knew her faults, her flaws, her weaknesses. He also knew her quality, her personality, her strengths, and her character. His trust in her was in spite of and due to these incontrovertible facts, not out of besotted passion or bedazzlement.
She sighed and relaxed against his chest, burying her face into his shoulder. “You must think me a silly child!”
He smiled into her hair. “You are not silly and, as proven several times over the past two days, you are unquestionably not a child!” They both laughed. “I do think you are worrying too much about all this, Elizabeth. No demands will be placed on you until you wish to assume them. Good heavens, it took me a year to feel secure as Master of Pemberley, and I grew up there! You will have all the time you need. Mrs. Reynolds already likes you and she will assist you in any way you require.”
“I do not apprehend how she could have such a fair opinion of me since I acted so outlandishly peculiar. Getting separated, spying on Georgiana, stammering like an imbecile, rushing off across the fields. I would imagine she is horrified that you would deign to be in the same room with me, let alone marry me!” She smiled up at him and he could not resist kissing her.
“Well, therein lies the answer to your question, my heart. Mrs. Reynolds has known me since I was four. Few people understand me as well as she does. For all that she is technically a servant, she has in many ways been a second mother to me. She has observed me through all my years of pain and grief. She knows my character and judgment. She trusts my choices and wishes nothing more than to see me happy. So, if you bring me that happiness, and you emphatically do, and if
Huskily he continued, “You must learn to have the same faith in my assertions regarding your qualifications as she does.” He paused to kiss her some more. “Of course,” he teased, “it is all a moot point as I intend to keep
