and I would hate to lose him.”
Lizzy lifted her chin impudently. “Prepare him as you see fit, Mr. Darcy, but do not expect any fair warnings from me. Sneaking and surprising are the rules of this game.”
Dinner, naturally, was delicious. The servants left the room, returning with the next courses only when Darcy rang for them, but he kept his seat and did not torture his poor wife. They were both quite happy so the atmosphere was lively.
“Dare I inquire, dear husband, what the itinerary is for the rest of the evening? Or had you planned a recap of our after-lunch activity?” she asked with a playful flutter of her lashes.
Darcy lifted one eyebrow. “Said activity is never far from my mind, dearest; however, I am willing to ponder alternative pursuits, provided you are involved.”
“William, I would like to take a walk. We have been cooped up all day, marvelous as it has been.” She gazed at him warmly and caressed his knee. “Nevertheless, I am feeling the need for some fresh air.”
He rose and bowed gallantly, saying, “I am yours to command, beloved. A walk it shall be.”
They exited the dining room and discovered the butler standing at attention. He bowed. “Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy. Sir, I have an envelope that Mr. Keith gave me to convey to you when you finished dining.” He handed Darcy a large envelope, which Darcy glanced at quickly, seeming instantly to glean the contents.
“Thank you, Mr. Taylor. Would you please place this on my desk for now? Could you then please ensure the terrace lamps are lit and retrieve our gloves, my coat, and Mrs. Darcy’s pelisse? We will be in the gallery.”
“At once, sir,” and with another bow to each, he left.
Darcy took her hand and led her to the gallery. Lizzy had not been in this room since her visit in September and had almost forgotten how astounding the works of art were. There was so much beauty in this one room that she imagined one could never fully absorb it all. Darcy strolled alongside her, offering insights into and the history of several of the pieces. He told her that his grandfather had first begun collecting the marble statues after he and Darcy’s grandmother had taken a trip to Italy. His father had acquired a few pieces, but it was Darcy who was especially stirred by sculpture. He had added more than half the pieces. He was so enamored with the art form that he had insisted on a bust of Georgiana. She had agreed but finagled him to also have a bust made of himself, hence the image before which Lizzy now stood.
Lizzy was as enraptured by the image now as she had been three months ago. It fascinated her how cold stone could appear so alive. How was it possible to capture his beauty, strength, and gentleness in a rock? Darcy had been distracted by a footman bringing their coats, so he was surprised to see his wife staring so intently at his likeness.
Lizzy was mesmerized. She sensed his presence near her and said dreamily, “Your face was the cause of my separation from Mrs. Reynolds and my aunt and uncle. I could not look away. I know now that I was already falling in love with you, but I had not admitted it to myself. Being here at Pemberley, surrounded by the beauty of your home, focused my tumultuous emotions. However, it was as I beheld this,” she reached up and brushed the shimmering cheeks and lips of the bust, “your face so gentle and loving even in stone, taunting me it seemed with a fond gaze, that I desperately wished to be favored with… I knew then that I hopelessly loved you.”
She turned to him, his flesh-and-blood face so close to her own, with those impossible blue eyes piercing her soul and his countenance resplendent with emotion. He cupped her face in his hands, caressing soft thumbs over her cheeks. He opened his mouth as if to speak but words failed. He swallowed, tears threatening to spill. Lizzy linked her hands behind his neck, drawing him to her. “I love you, my darling, with all my soul,” she whispered. They kissed then, a slow, tender kiss not of passion but of deep faithfulness and belonging. He enfolded her in his arms, embracing securely.
Eventually Darcy spoke, “Shall we stroll in the moonlight, my heart? It is cold out tonight so I shall have ready excuses to hold you and kiss you to keep you warm.”
She laughed. “As if you need valid excuses.”
It was a cold night but clear with the moon at three-quarters and bright. Billions of stars were visible. They walked leisurely, hand in hand, along the wide terrace that ran the length of the southern side of the manor. Several stone benches and secluded alcoves with arbors of trailing vines were spaced along the railing. Darcy unerringly led her to the eastern edge of the terrace and down the steps to the moonlit lawn beyond. He crossed the grass to a looming wall of brick and climbing vines that sheltered an array of pathways weaving through a secluded garden.
“This garden,” he informed her as they strolled, “is considerably smaller than the ones located to the southeast. It is a private garden for the family only. I come here most nights to breathe the fresh air and gaze at the sky before retiring. Mr. Clark knows it is a habit of mine, so he typically will wheel the protected flowers out from the conservatory until after I complete my stroll. You will find, my love, that he is an incredible gardener who has trained his staff well. No seasons pass without at least a few blooms and greenery.”
He chose a trail lined by a row of rosebushes, currently without blooms, of course. The gravel passageway twisted and turned until finally terminating at a clearing with a large gurgling fountain of four sea nymphs pouring water from pitchers. The fountain and pebbled expanse were completely shaded by an enormous, ancient oak tree and bordered with a profusion of vines and shrubs. Most were dormant, but the fragrance and color of the protected winter blooms of jasmine, camellia, hyacinth, paper-white narcissus, and hellebore filled the air. The only illumination was the moon and starlight shimmering and reflecting off the water.
Darcy sat on the edge of the fountain and pulled Elizabeth onto his lap. He wrapped his large overcoat about her and she nestled into his chest. “I love gazing at the stars,” Darcy remarked softly. “The immensity of the universe with the vastness of space and uncountable heavenly bodies is so outside our control and power. What is man compared to such awesome magnificence? It is a humbling experience to note one’s insignificance.”
“‘Miserable mortals who, like leaves, at one moment flame with life and at another moment weakly perish,’” Lizzy quoted.[1]
Darcy smiled, “‘There is nothing nobler or more admirable than when two people who see eye to eye keep house as man and wife, confounding their enemies and delighting their friends.’”[2]
They continued to play the quote game, but Darcy proved the victor. Lizzy laughed, conceding defeat, and then arose to walk among the flowers. Darcy sat in complete contentment watching his lovely wife in the moonlight.
“When Jane and I were younger, we would sometimes steal out at night
when all were asleep. We would lie on a blanket under the stars and talk about our dreams.”
“What do young girls dream of?”
She giggled. “Handsome princes on gallant white steeds charging in to whisk us off to crystal castles with spires reaching to the heavens.”
“Alas, my steed is black and Pemberley has no spires. Pity that your dreams have been dashed.”
“Well, at least the handsome part is true so I shall endeavor to overcome my acute disappointment.” She had picked several fragrant buds, tucking them in her hair and at her bosom. Lastly she snipped a strand of jasmine, weaving it into a garland. She approached her husband, still sitting on the fountain’s edge, and crowned his head with the aromatic adornment. “Now you are a prince,” she teased. “Two out of four is tolerable.”
Darcy clasped her legs to pull her onto his lap again, but she danced lightly away, tinkling laugh ringing. “If you desire to whisk me away, my prince, you must catch me first!” She gave a merry chase but his longer legs proved his asset, and he caught her at last.
The devious gleam in her eyes should have warned him. He leaned down to kiss her but she moved in quickly and securely caught his lower lip with her teeth. She nibbled tenderly, running the tip of her tongue along his lip, sucking slightly. Her hands were not idle, firmly stroking up his inner thighs and over his hips, fingers barely brushing his most sensitive regions.
Darcy had never experienced anything like it. How did she know to do this?
He groaned in misery then laughed, remembering his satisfied gloating at lunch and in her dressing room. He followed slowly, needing the distance to restore his irregular heartbeat. When he reached the terrace, he could see her moving about in his study. He entered and she was standing placidly by his desk, an expression of contrition on
