Darcy Saga 01 Mr. & Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy (16 page)

On the main level, or first storey, were the library, Darcy's study, several parlors, the music room, sculpture gallery, and guest quarters, among numerous other rooms. Lizzy and her aunt and uncle toured parts of this level during their visit. It would be weeks before Lizzy fully realized how few of the rooms she had actually seen, because the manor was so massive.

The entire third floor was bedchambers. The Master and Mistress's suite covered the whole south-facing wing, Darcy's bedchamber in the southeast corner. This location was ideal, providing a stunning view from numerous windows and a large southern balcony of the vast lawns, gardens, ponds, fountains, and the forest to the hilly east, as well as bathing the chamber with the sunrise and capturing woodland-scented breezes.

For the day's tour, they started in the library. Lizzy had seen it before, in September, and had been quite impressed. The room was enormous with ceiling-to-floor bookcases, almost all filled. Tall ladders on rollers allowed one to reach the highest shelves. Darcy explained how the volumes were organized, each case having a letter designation. He showed her the system of cards in a cabinet that cataloged the books and directed where to find each one. She had never heard of such a technique and found it fascinating. Several chairs and sofas with tables and lamps graced the room. The windows were tall and wide, as all the windows were at Pemberley, allowing incredible views in all directions and blazes of sunlight. She could not help but picture her father in this room and said as much to Darcy.

"Yes," he said. "I deem your father will set one foot in here, and we shall not see him for the length of his visit! It was probably the lure of Pemberley's library which principally swayed him to accept my proposal for your hand."

Lizzy laughed. "Well, that and the fact that I would undoubtedly have run off with you anyway if he had not consented."

She spoke teasingly and absently, but her words struck Darcy and he lightly grasped her chin turning her toward him. "Would you have, Lizzy?" he asked huskily. "Run away with me, I mean."

"Oh! I... Well, it never came to that did it, William? Yet now that I think about it, I remember how worried I was when you took so long in his study. I knew it was silly, that my father would never purposely refuse you, knowing how much I loved you... But then he did not know I loved you yet." She shook her head. "It is all such a jumble, really. I do know that I had to be with you, would die if I could not be. So, yes, I would have run away with you if he had refused. I would have had no choice." She smiled up at her husband and he kissed her, saying nothing.

She cocked her head to the side and began playing with the buttons on his jacket. "So, tell me, Mr. Darcy, which category do I look under for the
special
books in Pemberley's library?"

He flushed and swallowed audibly. "
Those
books are kept in my private collection in the study, under lock and key."

"Shall I be entrusted with a key to this cabinet?" She fluttered her lashes coquettishly.

"I shall contemplate the request, Mrs. Darcy. You are dangerous enough as it is without adding further fuel to the fire!"

Next he led her to the music room. An older pianoforte sat here alongside an enormous gilded harp. A glass case housed a collection of unusual instruments. Darcy explained that many of them were ethnic musical apparatus picked up from other countries over the centuries. Propped in one corner were a beautiful cello and a violin. Lizzy asked who played them.

"Richard plays the cello and is quite talented actually. He and Georgiana have several pieces they play together beautifully. I play the violin, but not very well. Never one to practice," he said in a perfect imitation of his aunt. "My mother insisted I study music but I could never control my clumsy fingers to even pound out my scales on the piano, so she gave up. I had limited success with the violin."

"I would love to hear you play."

Darcy laughed, "No, my love, you truly would not, trust me! Perhaps some evening when I have indulged in far too many brandies." He took her hand and led her to the northern wing. They visited the conservatory and game rooms, and then he led her into the formal dining room.

Elizabeth had never imagined a single room could be so huge. A massive, sheet-draped table in the shape of a "U" filled the space. Darcy told her it could comfortably seat one hundred-fifty people. Lizzy was stunned. The room was beautiful and elegant, as all the rooms were, but there was an emptiness to it, an atmosphere of long disuse with dust thick in some areas.

"We have not opened this room since my mother died," he remarked softly. "She loved to entertain. Here at Pemberley, that is. She did not care for Town. Twice a year, at Christmas and on the first day of summer, we hosted a feast for the tenants and community. Additional tables would be placed in the ballroom. It was a tradition for generations and quite the party, let me tell you! Christmas carols in the winter and music and dancing on the terrace in the summer." He smiled and his eyes were far away with the memory.

"Traditions must be adhered to," Lizzy declared briskly. "This Christmas is too soon for me to prepare a party, but by summer I will have figured my way around. We can arrange for it then, do you agree, my love?"

Darcy was smiling broadly. "Mistress of Pemberley indeed." He placed his arm across her shoulders, drew her close to his side, kissed the top of her head, and then steered toward the next room. Lizzy quickly became lost in the long hallways and vast rooms, all of which had several doorways tucked into draped alcoves leading to more rooms. Eventually she would learn that Darcy spoke the truth: Pemberley was patterned in a clear square and hallways that seemed initially to dissect randomly did, in fact, follow a predictable scheme. However, this would take time and she was abundantly thankful he intended to stay close to her. He diverted from the sculpture gallery and portrait hall for now, stating that it would take too much time to fully appreciate.

They encountered Mrs. Reynolds as they entered the main parlor. She curtseyed and addressed them both formally, "Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, the staff will be assembled in the ballroom in one half hour. After which, luncheon will be served. Does this meet with your approval?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds. That will be fine."

Lizzy strolled around the room, fondly remembering the miraculous days in early September when she surprised Mr. Darcy and his sister and then enjoyed luncheon and a glorious afternoon in their company. Observing him in his home had released her heart wholly. She vividly recalled sitting here transfixed by his peaceful face and demeanor and realizing that she loved him. Georgiana had played several tunes on her new pianoforte, Lizzy lifting her voice a time or two, while Darcy gazed at her with a tender expression. Naturally it had all worked out, but Lizzy could not help wondering how differently things might have transpired if only they had known the truth of the emotions behind their barely regulated features.

Now he was pointing out features and furnishings, sharing with her the memories attached. His parents had enjoyed having their children with them in the evenings, he told her, and they had generally relaxed here. He and Georgiana naturally gravitated to this parlor as well. The mixture of his childhood memories, the yearlong unrelenting daydreams of Elizabeth here with their children running about their feet, and now the reality that she was his wife bathed him in contentment.

"My father would read a book or newspaper in that chair," he pointed. "My mother would sit in the one alongside it, sewing or reading or singing to Georgiana in her lap. I was usually reading as well. Still do, actually, or I listen to Georgiana read to me. She has a sweet voice."

"Do you sit in his chair?" Lizzy inquired, studying his luminous face.

"No, I prefer the sofa. More comfortable and I can stretch further. I am taller than my father was, so my legs get cramped by the table in front. Suppose I could simply rearrange the furniture; however, I am a creature of habit so things have remained unchanged." He smiled brightly. "Probably could use some shaking up around here, Elizabeth, so indulge yourself."

"I was reflecting on the prospect of how stimulating it will be sitting by your side, touching you on the sofa, so I believe I shall keep the table as it is," she responded with a little laugh. She had moved to the far window as he had been talking and created an angelic vision with the sun shining on her. She was leaning against the wall, so still and calm, watching him. She was enchanting and Darcy was fascinated anew by the mere presence of her. He dazedly observed her for a spell and then found his feet drawn toward her as a moth to the flame.

She looked up at him, caressed his cheek, and smiled. "I love you, Fitzwilliam," she purred, her features awash with love. She rarely used his full name, treasuring it for the most intimate of moments, and her tone was intensely seductive and vibrant when she did. Hearing her call him so here, now, nearly brought him to his knees. He embraced her, nestling his face in her neck, moaning her name with desire and need. In a fluid motion he sat on the window seat, drawing her onto his lap.

He wondered if she grasped how vital she was to him, and whether she recognized that after all of the trials of the last year, the separations, the misunderstandings, the long waiting, and the gnawing urgency he had felt for her, these moments in her arms were like oxygen to a drowning man. He whispered her name over and over as he gently kissed her neck and shoulders. His torrid hunger for her was as powerful as ever, yet his desire to simply hold her was stronger.

Elizabeth ran her fingers through his hair and along the edge of his collar. She knew they probably should not be in this position outside their bedchamber, but she did not care. Being back in this room had evoked clear memories of her wonderful day here with him but also of the horrible separation afterwards. Those awful weeks of not knowing if he still loved her or if she would ever see him again, musings that seemed pointless in the face of Lydia's scandal. She shuddered anew at the pain and despair she had experienced.

Darcy felt her trembling and pulled back. "What is it, my heart?"

She kissed him. "Awful memories of how close I came to losing you. I do not think I could have lived if you had not come back to me, William," she said with a small sob.

"Shhhh..." he soothed, kissing her teary cheeks. "Let it go, Elizabeth. It is history. We are one now and will be forever. I refuse to allow this time to be clouded by the foolishness of the past." His wits restored somewhat, he bestowed a soft but lingering kiss before rising from the seat. He hugged her tight and then released her. He smiled gaily and reminded her they had an appointment to keep.

He offered an arm, "Shall we, Mrs. Darcy?"

She smiled bravely and placed her hand into the crook of his elbow. "Lead the way, Mr. Darcy."

As they walked down another long hallway she had yet not discovered, she inquired, "How many people does it take to keep Pemberley operating?"

He seemed puzzled by the question. "I am not sure the exact number. As many as is needed to get the jobs done."

Lizzy smiled inwardly. To him, who grew up surrounded by innumerable servants, the question would seem ludicrous.

The ballroom near the formal dining room was so mammoth that it dwarfed the latter chamber. Lizzy speculated that all of Longbourn could fit into this one room, and she would not have been far off. Details of the elegant room were ignored for now, however, as her eyes were drawn to the array of people in front of her. They were separated, accidentally or on purpose she did not know, into small clusters, rigidly at attention and wearing pristine uniforms. Mrs. Reynolds and Mr. Taylor, the butler, stood formally in front. In unison, everyone in the room bowed or curtseyed. The perfection of it stunned Lizzy.

Mrs. Reynolds stepped forward. "The staff awaits your inspection, Mr. Darcy."

"Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds."

Lizzy felt the urge to laugh. It was all so stiff and slightly ridiculous to her. One glance at her husband's visage, though, and she reconsidered. This was his world. Here he was the Master. In the weeks of their engagement, she had seen only her "William." He talked about his home and his duties frequently, to the point where she understood much of what life at Pemberley must be like. During that time, the stern, commanding presence of "Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Master of Pemberley" had faded, and she had forgotten that side of him. In all honesty, she had never actually seen that side of him.

She saw it now and experienced a surge of pride. What she had originally deemed haughty arrogance was in reality nobility, authority, power, and superior confidence. Here was a man utterly assured of his place in life and his responsibilities. He gave orders and expected them to be carried out without question.

With sudden insight she put all the pieces together. How a man of enormous capabilities, absolute command, and control over such vast properties and lives could be laid low by consuming love for a woman he thought he could not have. How this vulnerability and helplessness would engulf and stagger him. Perhaps to a degree he had needed to be humbled, yet all Lizzy could feel now was fresh pain and thankfulness that he would suffer no more.

She decided immediately that there was no possible way she would remember all their names, so she did not try. There was the kitchen staff, commanded by the iron fist of Mrs. Langton. The footmen, under the authority of Mr. Taylor. The household staff consisted of a dozen maids and numerous helpers and answered to Mrs. Reynolds. The outside staff, gardeners and maintenance men, led by the head groundskeeper, a Mr. Clark. Marguerite, Samuel, and Mr. Keith stood off to the side as they were under the direct and only command of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. Darcy explained to Elizabeth that the grooms and stable boys would be introduced later at the stables. She maintained her composure, but was inwardly overawed and suddenly understood how her husband could not possibly know the precise number of staff.