Darcy blushed slightly but traced one finger over the aforementioned bust line, deigning not to answer with words.
Breakfast was taken in the small sitting room. It was a pleasure to resume their custom of privacy in the morning, having necessarily relinquished the habit since leaving Pemberley. As Lizzy rose to retire to her dressing room, Darcy halted her. Handing her a small box hidden in his robe pocket, he stated, “You will need this, darling, to complete dressing. Marguerite will know what to do with it.”
Inside was a stunning hair comb with interwoven pearls and emeralds. Lizzy could only shake her head in amazement. “William, how will I possibly find the words to thank you appropriately for such gifts as these?” Tears glazed her eyes.
He cupped her face and brushed away her tears, kissing softly. “Your thanks are in how you love me every day, Elizabeth. Trinkets are easy for me to acquire and pale in comparison to what you have already given me in your life and love and, furthermore, are miniscule measured against the gift you nurture inside you. You and our child are priceless treasures to me and I do not have the words to convey my appreciation, so allow me to shower you with worthless baubles.” He kissed her again, and then turned her about, patting her bottom lightly. “Now, go get dressed, Mrs. Darcy. The fun is just beginning.”
The gown fit perfectly, Madame du Loire kindly writing Lizzy's measurements down for Darcy. The bodice was an unusual design of gathers and ribbons allowing for adaptation to changing size. Despite the daring cut, a particular fashion trend Lizzy was not overly comfortable with, it was a relief to wear a gown that did not squeeze her blossoming breasts so tightly. Marguerite handily grasped the design, snuggly pulling the gathers under the bosom as Lizzy's abdomen was yet flat. When all the various clothing items and accessories were in place and the hair stylishly primped with the jeweled comb brilliantly displayed, Lizzy was stupendous. She had no idea where they were going, but to her eyes, despite the plain cut of the gown, it could be to see the Prince Regent and she would feel majestic.
Darcy concurred. He was no less aristocratic in his fine clothing: a jacket of forest green, waistcoat with cream and green pinstripes, long trousers of tan nankeen, white shirt, and lacy beige cravat. He wore simple walking shoes rather than his customary boots. As much as Lizzy preferred him in blue, the honest truth is that he was marvelously handsome in any color or style of dress. Once the mutual approbation was completed, Darcy reached up and solemnly removed the earrings she wore.
“No, these are all wrong,” he declared in a serious tone. Yet another small box materialized and he opened it to reveal a pair of dainty drop earrings with one round emerald atop a perfect pearl. Adorning each lobe with an earring followed with a kiss, he then stepped back a pace, confirming authoritatively that she was “perfect.”
The girls were dressed and anxiously waiting in the parlor when Darcy and Lizzy entered. As delighted as they were to see Lizzy, wish her a happy birthday, and praise the new ensemble, their excitement was due to their own scheduled activities. Darcy had arranged for a carriage to transport them to the Gardiner townhouse where Mrs. Gardiner was awaiting them. She had been delighted at the prospect of entertaining the girls for the day and night, immediately arranging an agenda of local shopping and luncheon out.
Lizzy had been mildly surprised. Heedful of Darcy's extreme protectiveness of his sister, she was fully aware of the trust he was placing in her aunt's hands. The fact that he had instigated this separation spoke volumes of his faith in Mrs. Gardiner and moved Lizzy deeply. Of course, he was taking no chances. The sturdiest of the Darcy carriages would be their conveyance, and two of the brawniest footmen in his employ would be accompanying them everywhere they went.
Once the giggly girls were safely on their way, the Darcys settled into the landau chosen for their transportation. The soft tops were up, providing privacy and filtering any excessive sounds and odors which may disturb Lizzy. A medium-sized, wrapped box sat on the opposite bench. Lizzy pretended to be blind, waiting on her husband's pleasure.
Darcy had ordered the driver on a circuitous route to their destination for a couple of reasons. First, he wished to avoid the crowded and noisome major thoroughfares to save Lizzy any distress, but also because he wished her to sightsee the finer areas of London. He had discovered in his not-so-subtle questioning that Lizzy had only been to Town a handful of times in her life, the last being during their engagement. As sorrowful and inconceivable as this statistic was to the world traveling, part-time city-dwelling Darcy, it allotted him the serendipitous advantage of being the one to expose her to all that the city had to offer. As he had contemplated the various wonders London boasted, two stood out as the ideal inaugural attractions to share with his wife.
Within a block of the house Lizzy was hopelessly lost, so initially, she could not comprehend why the driver kept turning right then left then right again. Was Darcy trying purposely to throw her off track? It did not seem logical since he was well aware that the only portion of the vast city she could claim even meager familiarity with was Cheapside. The mystery of the numerous deviations became clear when Darcy pointed to a lovely townhouse across from a lush oasis only slightly smaller than Grosvenor.
“This is Portman Square and that is the London home of the Vernors. I believe Gerald plans to arrive next week. Is that not what Mrs. Vernor told you, love?”
“Yes, as are the Hugheses and the Lathrops. I am sure the Fitzherberts, Sitwells, and Drurys have already arrived. Needless to say, I have been remiss in informing them of our appearance.”
“There is plenty of time for that.”
After further driving, they halted before another finely appointed garden plaza. “This is Cavendish Square,” Darcy declared. “The house with pinkish stones belongs to the Lathrops. Over there you can see the side of the Sitwell townhouse. It is on Princes Street. We will pass it as we continue.”
“Is all this distance we have traveled and all these squares part of Mayfair?”
“Yes. Mayfair proper extends north to Regent Park. We will drive by the park here in a moment. Alas, it is still under construction, so there is not yet much to see. The Fitzherberts and Drurys reside in St. James's Place, as do the Matlocks if you recall, which lies in the opposite direction from where we are headed. I am certain you will have opportunities to see their homes ere our sojourn is ended. The Fitzherberts, especially, have a remarkable townhouse. Do not tell Aunt Madeline I said this or she will box my ears, but it is actually finer than Matlock House, at least from the outside. I have never been a guest there.”
He pointed out a few other houses of Derbyshire residents not as well known to Lizzy and a handful of others belonging to people she had yet to meet. Lastly, they passed the home of the Hursts, a modest townhouse of tan bricks across from Bedford Square.
At this point Darcy retrieved the wrapped package, handing it to his wife. “Yes, another one,” he teased. “I have a schedule to maintain in order to deliver them all in the course of one day.”
“William…”
“Not a word, Elizabeth! Open.”
At this point Elizabeth decided that, as three and twenty presents were apparently forthcoming regardless of how extravagant she deemed it, relishing the experience seemed only logical. With an arch smile she furthermore decided to play with her wonderful, silly little boy of a spouse in the process. With that in mind, she studied the box carefully, shook it a bit, put it against her ear, and even smelled it. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Darcy's crooked, knowing smile as he leaned back, crossing his arms as if they had all day.
With patient deliberation she peeled the ribbons and colored paper away, eventually exposing the box. Inside rested a set of four writing pens in a style she had never seen before. Rather than quills, the handles were of clear hued glass: red, blue, purple, and green. The tips were made of steel.
Darcy leaned forward, eager as a child with a new toy. “These are very new, Elizabeth. Mark my words, some day quills will be obsolete. The steel tips can be cleaned of dried ink, last nearly forever, and write with varying scripts depending on the size. Truly amazing. I have used them a time or two. My solicitor refuses to use a quill. Anyway, these are yours, and I have purchased a set for myself with carved wooden handles. It may take some adjusting to, and if you do not like them, that is fine.”
“William, these are fantastic. I have read of the newer steel dip pens but had no idea they were so lovely. Thank you! I look forward to using them.” She kissed him with genuine enthusiasm and thanks. With a grin she tilted her head. “I think I now understand why all the presents, my love. Imagine all the kisses you will be receiving today by way of my expressing gratitude, in addition to the undiminished communication of my gratefulness which you will undoubtedly procure tonight in our bed.”
“Have I not confessed time and again, beloved, to being hideously selfish. Here is the proof.” With a chuckle
