“Surely you did not think I would obey such a ridiculous order? Be thankful I did not invite all of Derbyshire to pay homage. After all, it is a remarkably special day, your healthy birth the beginning of the pathway leading you to me. Now open.”
He slowly untied the bow, pulling the wrapping away from the large, flat box. Lizzy was biting nervously on the corner of her lip, Darcy glancing at her with a soft smile. Inside under layers of tissue paper was a framed portrait. Darcy's breath caught and mouth fell open as with trembling fingers he removed the picture.
It was Lizzy dressed in one of his favorite gowns: a satin dress of navy blue with silver trim that beautifully accented her fuller bosom, capped sleeves off the shoulders exposing the creamy lusciousness of her flesh and swanlike neck. She wore his mother's pearl necklace and dainty drop earrings, thick chestnut tresses elaborately coiffed with tiny pearls woven into a strand of curls cascading over her right shoulder and wisps of hair brushing delicately along her temples. The artist had masterfully captured the vibrant sparkle of her eyes, faint twist of bubbling humor on her lush lips, and barely suppressed verve evident in the tilt of her head. The portrait was miniaturized, approximately twelve inches high and eight inches wide, but the realism was so astounding that the image verily leapt off the canvas.
“Elizabeth! It is unbelievable. When did you…? Who…?”
“I confess I deceived you, my love. Many of the afternoons you thought me shopping or visiting Harriet I was sitting for this. I think it good. Do you like it?”
“Good? It is stunning. You are stunning. I am at a loss for words! Thank you, Elizabeth!”
“I thought you could place it on your desk amid the clutter.”
“It may distract me too greatly as the accuracy is remarkable. I will anticipate hearing your voice emerge from the frame. Besides, workmanship such as this deserves a place of honor.”
“It is yours to do with as you wish. However, I did want it where you could view it frequently. Think of it as me watching over you.” She reached to tenderly stroke his cheek, Darcy grasping her hand for a kiss to the palm while yet staring raptly at the painting.
“You know I require no tangible remembrances of you, but I will treasure this always. Yes, you are correct. I will place it on my desk, even clearing some of the mess to denote an esteemed locale. On the left corner, I think.”
“You could remove that hideous statue of the bull.”
“I like that statue! Oh, you are teasing me.” He laughed, bending to kiss her pert lips tenderly and caressing her jaw. “Thank you, my dearest love. It is perfect. You never cease to amaze me. I love you, Elizabeth. May I share the painting with our guests?”
“As you wish.”
Lizzy may have ignored his pleading for no gifts, but she did grant his wish for an intimate gathering. Aside from George and Georgiana, no other guests gave gifts. The focus was on fine dining and sedate entertainment. The Sitwells had traveled from their home near Chesterfield, residing at the Hughes's. In lieu of attending, the Drurys had sent best wishes for a joyous birthday.
All were in awe at Lizzy's miniature portrait, praising the artistry and sentiment. Darcy momentarily slipped away from his guests to reverently place it in his study, clearing a corner of the enormous desk with a smile as he imagined all the subsequent days spent at his labors with her beautiful face gazing upon him. He touched the gilded frame, chuckling happily as he freshly acknowledged the vast difference between this birthday and the last versus every other in his entire life. His mother and father, when he was young, had showered him with gifts, prepared his favorite dinner and dessert, and a handful of times in his youth held small parties with his closest friends. Then there were the grief-filled years after his mother died when celebrations of all sorts had practically ceased. His birthdays then were family affairs only with little in the way of gaiety. As he had told Lizzy last year, his adult birthdays had passed virtually with no recognition except for modest gifts from Mrs. Reynolds, Georgiana, and occasionally Richard.
Only once, when he turned two-and-twenty, was there a memory attached: Richard and Stephen Lathrop had conspired and surprised him at White's. The gents there had toasted to his birthday, his health, his prosperity, his future, on and on until the toasts declined to the realm of drinking a shot for his horse, his hair, his teeth, his boots, and so on. All he really remembered after that was waking up the next morning, shockingly actually in his bed at Darcy House, with the headache to beat all headaches. For the successive years he was blessedly content to forego any revelry.
This birthday was sedate, Lizzy certainly not physically able to tolerate an exaggerated affair and Darcy content to sip brandy while conversing and listening to his sister play and wife sing. All things taken into account, turning thirty was a blissful transition, Darcy glad to put the pain of his twenties behind and embrace the promised joy of his thirties and beyond.
Chapter Sixteen
The following weeks were quiet at Pemberley. The weather grew gradually colder with frequent sprinkling rains. The leaves continually fell from the deciduous trees, barren skeletons remaining dotted about the grounds. Little by little the autumn blooms faded and died, the colors about the house transmuting from vibrant to dingy. The excellent Pemberley groundsmen, under the tutelage of Mr. Clark, fabulously maintained the gardens and lawns, keeping all immaculate and as colorful as possible. Lizzy was actually quite amazed at how even the intermittent haziness could not totally subdue the picturesque landscape. Nonetheless, the gradual tapering toward the monochrome of winter occurred.
Dusk daily fell sooner, extending the evenings. What warmth was attained during the day was rapidly dispensed as the sun set, requiring the servants to light the lamps and draw the drapes earlier. Fires blazed nightly from all the inhabited rooms, allaying the cold that insisted on creeping through the thick stone walls and driving the chill into the hallways. Stored winter wear was pulled out and thoroughly cleaned. New boots and thick slippers were purchased as needed. Lighter weight pelisses and shawls were consistently utilized even during the remaining fair days.
There was the occasional day of milder climate when Lizzy and Darcy would take short walks about the grounds, but generally they remained secluded in the manor where it was warm and safe. Darcy's residual cough dissipated completely, leaving him as robust as prior. He resumed his typical activities with long rides on Parsifal leading the agenda, his uncle ofttimes accompanying. Work was minimal and easily finished, allotting him plenty of free time. He became fanatical about keeping the staff and his wife abreast of his whereabouts. Never did he wander farther than the immediate surrounds or into Lambton, and that rarely. Even his gallops followed a standard route so he could be swiftly found if necessary.
He observed Elizabeth's every breath, driving her insane at times, but it was a compulsion uncontrollable. For her part, she essentially felt quite well. Her back ached to some degree almost constantly; the mild, sporadic false labor pains escalated to a frequent phenomenon; her feet swelled slightly, enough to prefer loose shoes for comfort; and she was forever short of breath as the baby seemed to press farther and farther up into her lung cavity.
Mrs. Hanford moved into her newly renovated apartments on the far side of the nursery. Lizzy discovered the joy of sharing infant-related discussions with the kindly woman. The nanny was thrilled by the nursery, having never seen a baby's room decorated so elaborately, and delighted in all the delicately knitted and sewn garments and blankets. She humbly gifted Mrs. Darcy with numerous tiny articles that she had created over the past months, Lizzy happily adding them to the piles waiting in the drawers. Lizzy visited the baby's room several times each day for no other purpose than to touch the clothing and items sitting about. Darcy twice looked all over the manor for her, reaching a point verging on hysteria, only to discover her rocking placidly in the chair and stroking her belly.
Dr. Darcy insisted Lizzy drink the tea for three weeks, after which he figured the baby could safely be born if he so desired. George never asked outright if he could deliver the baby, simply assuming control of the situation. Neither of the Darcys gave it the slightest thought, frankly never having it cross their minds that he should probably have formally asked their permission or that they should have formally requested his services.
