and hallways have windows that admit sunlight during the day.”
They had reached the third-floor landing and Darcy paused. He gestured to the right-hand passages. “Those rooms are unoccupied and have been since I moved into my father’s chambers years ago. Occasionally we have needed to open them for guests, but I prefer guests to stay on the second floor. Someday our children will reside in those rooms.” He said the last sentence softly and looked at Elizabeth with tenderness.
She smiled back but could not resist teasing just a bit. “And how many rooms are we to generate occupants for, sir? A girl likes to grasp what she is in for in life!”
“Well, let me think,” Darcy thoughtfully mused, “there are at least a dozen empty chambers down that wing and I believe three on this wing, not to mention the others on the western side of the manor, so…” he paused and in mock seriousness began counting on his fingers, pretending to be unable to add it all before he gave up. “It is quite a few, my dear, so I suppose we ought to get busy with the unpleasant task of creating said occupants.” He sighed deeply and theatrically, an expression of mournful sadness on his face, “A gentleman must be diligent in his duties.”
Elizabeth laughed and took his hand, propelling him forward. “You are incorrigible! Lead the way before I attempt it and get us hopelessly waylaid.”
Darcy complied, leading her to a set of double doors to the left. He stopped before opening them and took her face in his hands. “Elizabeth, I have dreamed of showing you these rooms, of having you here as my wife for so long now. I am overwhelmed! Pinch me or something so I know I am not dreaming.”
“I shall do better,” she said. She wound her arms behind his neck, twining fingers into his hair, and brought his face to hers. She kissed him with wild abandon, pouring her love into the task. He encircled her waist with his arms, drawing her to him so that she was pressed against every plane of his body. She could feel his ardor, his desire and arousal, and she experienced it, too. He buried his face in her neck and inhaled deeply of her lavender fragrance.
She held him tightly, allowing him the time he needed to regain control and steady his breathing. Softly she whispered, “I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy. Now, beloved, are you convinced of my reality?” He nodded, kissed her lips briefly, and regretfully released her.
Turning back to the doors, he said, “Remember, my love, these rooms were my mother’s and she decorated them when she came to Pemberley as a new bride. Therefore, the fashion is more than thirty years old and totally outdated. You will be able to refurbish the chambers however you desire.” He opened the door to his wife’s modest sitting room and held her hand as they entered.
The room was generous but cozy. His mother had had an observable predilection for green and peach. Lizzy did not dislike the motif, his mother obviously having had exceptional taste, but she knew instantly it was not her preference. However, this was a vague thought as her eyes were drawn to the large windows, the general dimensions of the room, and the fine fireplace. She could easily imagine being very comfortable relaxing here.
Darcy was studying her closely. “I have arranged for a decorator to come from London next week, dearest. He will assist you with finding a style more pleasing to you.”
“Truly, William, you worry too much. The room is beautiful. I will grant that some modification would be welcome. I tend to prefer darker colors, earthy tones, you could say. Nonetheless, I would not want to embark on a spending frenzy simply because the colors are not to my liking!”
Darcy laughed, “Now it is you who are worrying too much. The expense is not an issue. I assure you the estate can afford renovating a couple of rooms.” Lizzy furrowed her brow. She wondered, briefly, if she would ever become accustomed to money not being a concern.
He led her to her bedchamber. It was arrayed in the same colors and fashion as the sitting room. The bed was ample but not overly huge, and several chairs sat on a beautiful Oriental rug that carpeted the floor. Three other doors were visible. Darcy pointed to one. “That leads to my private sitting room, through which is my bedchamber.”
“Where does that door lead?” she asked, pointing to a door recessed in a curtained alcove.
“The nursery,” Darcy responded. “It has been unused since Georgiana was born and is empty. Beyond it is another chamber for a nurse.” He had come behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, kissing her below her ear.
“Are you planning on practicing the filling of those uninhabited chambers this moment, Mr. Darcy?” she said archly.
“It
She turned in his arms, smiling wickedly. “Fantasies, is it? Why, Mr. Darcy, how decadent of you! I am shocked to the core!”
He held tighter, “You minx! You have revealed your dreams to me, so do not play innocent.” He kissed her heartily but she wiggled out of his arms, giggling.
“We may never complete this tour, sir, if you constantly interrupt.” With an impish smile she flounced to the third unexplored door. He followed, smiling foolishly.
This door led to her dressing area. This room, with adjacent bathing area, was larger than the bedchamber. Rows upon rows of drawers, numerous racks to hang gowns, and shelves for shoes lined one entire wall length. Her meager belongings took up no space at all. An enormous floor-length mirror stood at one end. The vanity was magnificent with a dark-blue velvet cushioned bench, dozens of small drawers, and a mirror edged in gold. On the top was a large bouquet of white roses in a crystal vase surrounded by perfume bottles and a musical box. Through the arch, an enormous bathing tub and an elegant stand with a porcelain washbasin and pitcher were visible.
However, Elizabeth noticed none of this initially, because her eyes were immediately captured by the painting on the wall above the vanity. She gasped and her trembling hand touched her mouth as tears filled her eyes. She was speechless.
“William… how… where… I do not understand…”
He was beside her, one arm around her waist, an expression of incomparable exhilaration on his face. “Do you like it, my darling? I discovered it in a gallery in London, quite by accident. It instantly reminded me of Hertfordshire and the meadow near Longbourn where we met on the day you accepted me.” His voice throbbed with emotion.
It was a landscape that uncannily resembled her childhood home. The field of knee-high green grasses almost appeared to wave in the sunkissed air. A small stream cut crookedly through the middle, a narrow stone bridge spanning one edge. In the distance stood a house of beige bricks obscured by the faint wisps of English mist hugging the ground. The work was exquisite, but even if it had been of poor quality, she would have been tremendously moved.
Lizzy could instantly understand why the painting had struck her husband. It was not the moor near Longbourn where they encountered each other that fateful day in late September, drawn to each other as if by magic, but stunningly similar. She could almost see their figures in the haze, finally speaking openly of the love they shared.
Elizabeth’s thoughts and emotions were in riot. She wanted to cry, to laugh, to hold her husband tenderly, to passionately make love to him right there. He surprised her continually in his ability to show his adoration for her, his devotion. For an agonizing second she experienced an acute stab of unworthiness. What had she done in life to deserve such an extraordinary man? The answer was nothing… his love was a gift and she would spend her life dedicated to the task of loving him in return with equal fervor.
With tears coursing down her cheeks, she turned to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him as close as possible, her face pressed against his chest. She could not think of the proper words to express herself, so she merely held him. For a very long while they stood thus, embracing in love without thoughts of passion, content to hear the other breathing, the warmth of their bodies seeping into each other. Unaware of who moved first, Darcy kissed her tears away with the utmost tenderness while they were still locked together in sweet harmony. Softly murmured endearments proceeded from both their mouths in a welter of need to articulate the consuming love they both felt.
Eventually their eyes met, hers shimmering with tears and his the pure blue of a cloudless summer sky. He smiled a smile that lit his face and caused Elizabeth’s knees to weaken. “So, you approve of the painting?” he whispered in his melodious voice.
Elizabeth laughed and bent her head to his chest momentarily before looking back at him, mirth dancing in
