My Dearest Mr. Darcy: An Amazing Journey into Love Everlasting

 Military might slumbers

~ relative humor questionable

~ amusement and faithfulness assured

~ matrimony avoided, any ideas?

~ effervescent strength

Under the watchful eye of a rigidly poised Watson, she sedately walked down the stairs to the main floor's residence wing to the last door on the west passageway: Richard's chambers. The first time Lizzy had ever entered these rooms was during her beginning weeks at Pemberley, on one of those days when Darcy was busy with Mr. Keith so she utilized the time to wander about, learning her way. The vast percentage of Pemberley's guest chambers had a long disused quality to them readily discernible. This room, unknown as Col. Fitzwilliam's, had instantly struck her differently. She discovered later that Richard was a frequent visitor, actually residing more often here than at his ancestral home, Rivallain, and the mark of his ebullient presence seemed to have seeped into the very walls.

The rose lay serenely at the foot of the bed. Two more perfect pearls added to the others in her pocket.

 Hall of living stone

~ sightless eyes bore into your soul, loving you eternally

~ loneliness allayed forevermore

~ my beloved in perpetuity

Lizzy's heart leapt. She rushed from the room, slowing under the vigilant gaze of Watson, undoubtedly planted there to ensure her caution. She smiled at him brilliantly, dropping a curtsy. The footman bowed, his lips lifting slightly. At the corner she glanced behind, Watson's eyes upon her, and waved airily with a tinkling laugh before launching into a brisk sprint to the sculpture gallery.

Darcy's bust was the obvious answer to the puzzle, although the last phrase was unclear. Her beloved was in perpetuity, but Darcy was writing the riddle and referring to her. She had a guess as to the solution and rounding the corner gasped nonetheless when she found she was correct. While in London, Darcy had taken Mrs. Lathrop's suggestion to heart and Lizzy spent a few hours sitting for a sculptor. Darcy had made no further mention of her bust, Lizzy choosing to let the matter lie, knowing that he would prefer to surprise her in some manner.

Well, he had succeeded. Her likeness etched in cold white marble sat on a pedestal beside her husband's. Every detail flawless, her tender smile and glowing happiness magically captured. As when she gazed upon his bust, or any of the other amazing statues in the gallery, Lizzy was awed by the art form. She had blushed and mildly resisted having a bust made, but now that it was here beside her husband in this place where it would sit for generations untold, Lizzy could only feel deep pride. She paused a moment more, as she could never refrain from doing, and stroked his luminous cheek.

“I love you, William,” she whispered with a smile, retrieving the rose, pearls, and note lying on a tiny table near the pedestals.

 Prose and poetry

~ classic and contemporary

~ silent contemplation amongst the dust

~ romance amid the historical

~ favored master retreat

No hesitation as she pivoted toward the far door and short corridor leading to the library. His clues were obvious, but the room was gigantic, offering any number of places to place a rose. She rather thought his chair a logical place, but was unsure based on the allusion to romance, which could easily refer to the time they made love between the shelves of history texts. Of course, they had made love several times in the library, she recalled with a blush and heavenly sigh, so he was likely being general.

She was correct in her initial assumption. The rose, pearls, and paper lay on his massive leather chair. Lizzy's stomach released a loud growl, tremulous hands reminding her that she had eaten nothing yet this morning. As delightful as his little game was, she sincerely hoped this was the last as she was famished. Alas, not yet.

A precious presence seen

~ heart awakens as eyes lock

~ a dream?

~ a delusion?

~ or the beginning of life lived abundantly and completely?

“The latter, my heart, the latter,” she murmured, kissing the folded parchment. Fourteen pearls now weighted her pocket and her hands were encumbered with parchment and roses as Lizzy headed toward the terrace.

Memories flooded her as she hurriedly walked through the now familiar rooms toward the southern exit. Vivid recollections of her surprise encounter of Mr. Darcy a year ago with the subsequent invitation to his home.

First, the music room where visions of being introduced to his beloved sister Georgiana and hearing her play while a proud and relaxed Mr. Darcy smiled and laughed. Ah, his laughter! Such an amazing sound and sight that she had never witnessed from the stoic man of Hertfordshire and Kent. It had pierced her soul, Lizzy noting how beautiful he was, how carefree and joyous. “You should always smile, Mr. Darcy,” she had thought with emotions overwhelming, her spirit lurching at his evident happiness and then plummeting in the sadness of knowing he would never smile so for her.

Next into Darcy's study and out a side door to the wide corridor beyond. She passed through the vaulted archway to the broad stone terrace and was halfway down the stairs before she noted that Darcy was nowhere to be seen. She slowed, heart racing, and calmly crossed the stones toward the small table set for breakfast precisely on the spot where she had nervously attempted a bumbling conversation with Mr. Darcy all those months ago.

The round table was covered with a fine green linen tablecloth, an empty vase of Waterford crystal in the center, a china pot of tea, plate of sliced fruits, and two formal settings. Lizzy glanced around, fully expecting her husband to materialize from behind a potted bush or the lawn beyond, not that it is easy to hide a frame his size. She placed the roses into the vase, noting then the folded parchment propped against the glass.

Beloved,

A year ago today the road to my rebirth began. The interrupted journey of our destiny as one was resumed. Paths trod are frequently rend with hazards and washed away areas, but the wise pilgrim presses on and picks up the trail inerrantly. By the grace of God such are we, my wife. Fate shone and brought you literally to my doorstep. Never will I doubt the hand of the Almighty on our life and will forever be thankful for the mercy shown me. The quest, both the one that brought you to me then and that brought you to this note, are over.

I love you,

William

She released a breathy laugh, whirling about seconds later at the unmistakable sound of boot heels striking stone. Darcy was rapidly descending the stairs, dressed in the exact outfit worn a year ago from boots to cravat, only rather than an expression of stunned befuddlement and nervousness, his countenance was radiant with broad smile and glittering eyes.

Lizzy could only stare, an odd sense of deja vu overlaid by vaulting ecstasy and love. How he stole her very breath away! His dimples flashed, teeth sparkled, eyes reflected the azure blue of the sky, and entire body exuded strength and energy. Purposefully he strode toward her, gaze never faltering, not pausing or slowing until a mere