Darcy Saga 01 Mr. & Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy (21 page)

"Gerald is meeting me and would undoubtedly delight in visiting with you, too."

Darcy nodded. "I am escorting Mrs. Darcy to Madame du Loire's. Let's plan soon for a game of billiards at Pemberley?"

Mr. Vernor winced. "I do not think I have quite recovered my pride from your last thrashing at billiards, Darcy." He addressed Lizzy, "Your husband is the champion billiard player in all of Derbyshire, Mrs. Darcy. Last summer was the first time anyone had beaten him in a decade, and then it took Mr. Hughes, our next best player, to accomplish the feat."

Darcy scowled and glanced at his wife. "I was distracted most of last summer with personal matters and Hughes caught me on an off day."

Vernor smiled, completely misapprehending Darcy's reference. "Yes, I imagine you were distracted, and we now all comprehend the reason. Mrs. Darcy, my wife and the other ladies of Derbyshire are anxious to meet you. As soon as Mr. Darcy is willing to share, you must dine with us."

"Thank you, Mr. Vernor. I shall look forward to it."

Lizzy spent an exhausting afternoon admiring fabrics and accessories finer than any she had ever owned. Darcy had made it abundantly clear that she was to be outfitted fully, top to bottom, with expense not an issue. With Phillips as chaperone and lending two strong arms as baggage carrier, she shuffled from one shop to another purchasing new slippers and boots, nightgowns and robes, undergarments, stockings, bonnets and hats, outerwear, gloves, and more. The focus was winter wear, naturally, so the fabrics were heavy wools and velvet with fur for warmth. By the end of the day, she had three new gowns quickly altered to her dimensions by the seamstresses in attendance and another two dozen gowns to be made with fabrics acquired from the drapers.

Madame du Loire was a genius. Lizzy had often lamented her, shall we say, less than curvy figure. She was not generally the type to follow fashion, nor was she particularly vain. Nonetheless, with four sisters shaped full and lush, Lizzy could not help but notice the obvious difference in her own form. Her mother had frequently and mournfully commented on Lizzy's overly svelte physique, loudly bemoaning it as a probable deterrent to any man finding her attractive. All her young adult life, Lizzy had scoffed at her mother's words, but deep inside she had harbored feelings of inadequacy.

Darcy's wanton approbation of her body and his frank and blatant intoxication with her feminine shape had erased most of her uncertainties. Even so, she was amazed and delighted at the skill Madame du Loire employed to enhance her limited assets and accentuate her attributes. She taught Lizzy how to manipulate stays and gathers and lace and numerous other things to present a more pleasing and alluring vision. Considering her husband's already overwhelming amorousness for her, Lizzy was not totally sure this was a wise plan! Thoughts of how he would be affected by her new attire brought a blush to her face as well as shivers of desire, most inappropriate in the current setting.

Late in the afternoon, exhausted but exhilarated, Lizzy said her final farewells to shopping. The purchases were packed up and secured into the carriage, but Lizzy opted to stroll along the streets of Lambton. With Phillips as escort she headed to meet her husband, passing numerous shops of interest. The desire to buy needless items for Darcy burned in her chest; however, the hour was growing late so she made mental notes and bypassed them for the time being.

Later that evening, after dinner, Lizzy and Darcy relaxed in their sitting room. Darcy had carried out Lizzy's requests and the room had been rearranged. The painting was now hanging over the fireplace mantel directly across from the doorway so one's eye was drawn to it immediately upon entering the room. A mammoth new carpet, which Darcy had discovered on his last trip to London, had arrived the day before. It was a Serapi Persian rug, plush and thick, patterned exotically with soft golds and greens. It lay in front of the fireplace and dominated the room. The chaise and two chairs with ottomans sat before the flames. A breakfast sideboard stood against one wall with their small dining table nearby. Lizzy had unpacked her favorite books, placing them into the bookcase with Darcy's. Lizzy had fallen in love with a petite desk she had discovered in one of the guest's chambers, so it had been relocated to their sitting room and placed close to Darcy's desk in one corner before the window. The room was cozy, serene, and inviting. In truth, they had spent scant time relaxing in any of the downstairs rooms, much preferring to be here, together and informal.

So it was tonight. Lizzy sat at her desk and Darcy was at his. They were not quite close enough to physically touch, but the desks were arranged in a rough "V" so they could converse easily if necessary and could view each other unobstructed across the negligible space. Darcy had removed his coats and cravat. The household account ledger was in front of him, and a minute crease twisted between his brows as he concentrated. Lizzy was in her nightgown and robe and alternated between watching her husband and the task she worked on. As always, he distracted her by his very presence, but pleasantly so.

She was amused at how he fidgeted while he worked. He held his body straight and erect, but his fingers were incessantly moving, either twirling his quill or stroking his chin or, as now, playing with a palm-sized glass ball. She was further fascinated at how dexterous he was in his unconscious toying. He absently tossed and rolled the little ball, balanced it on his fingertips and even reeled it across his knuckles, not once taking his eyes or focus off the ledger. She shook her head in amazement, smiled, and returned her deliberations to her letter.

She had completed a long, detail-filled correspondence to Jane, which she had been composing in bits and pieces for several days. She missed Jane, even as content as she was at Pemberley. At odd moments throughout her day, she would find herself thinking of her sister, wondering what she was doing and how she would react to something Lizzy was saying or doing. Mostly, Lizzy was curious about whether her sister was as happy in her marriage as she was. Lizzy adored Mr. Bingley and was certain he loved her sister, so she was not particularly worried about Jane's happiness. No, she simply missed sharing in that happiness and being able to talk about her own felicity.

Also, Christmas was fast approaching and although Lizzy was delighted at the prospect of spending the holidays with her husband and new family, it would be the first holiday season in her life without her parents and sisters. It was a bittersweet reality, which led to the task before her. She and Darcy had discussed the Christmas plans, and he had embraced the idea of a major celebration. For more than ten years, since his mother had died, Christmas at Pemberley had been a quiet affair. He felt it was time they put past grief behind them and commemorated the season as it deserved to be.

To that end, Lizzy had penned formal invitations. Darcy had insisted on inviting the Gardiners, so one invitation had been written to them. Another had been written to Col. Fitzwilliam and yet another to Lord and Lady Matlock. Georgiana would be returning to Pemberley in a little over a week. Col. Fitzwilliam and his parents, who had been gracious enough to keep Georgiana in Town during these first weeks of the Darcy's marriage, would be bringing her home when they returned to their estate in Matlock for the winter.

Lizzy had won the affection of the Matlocks while in London during her engagement. It had been a tortuous battle, what with Lady Catherine's vocal disapproval and attempts to thwart Darcy's marriage to "the country upstart." However, eventually Lizzy's natural charm and wit, along with the obvious love Darcy held for her, had swayed the Matlocks. Lizzy was far from comfortable with them, imposing characters though they were, but she respected them. Mostly, she knew how valuable they were to Darcy, so she had declared they should be invited for Christmas Day as well.

Lastly, Darcy requested the presence of a friend of his from Leicester, a Mr. Stephen Lathrop, and his young wife Amelia. Darcy had met Mr. Lathrop years ago at Cambridge, and the two had become friendly, being of similar temperaments. Mr. Lathrop owned a small estate in Leicestershire and his father had died this past year, leaving Mr. Lathrop without any family except for his wife of one year. She was Scottish so her family lived quite far away, and Darcy thought it would be a nice gesture to have them join the Pemberley festivities, understanding thoroughly how grief stricken his friend would be this holiday. Lizzy had not met them, but was very pleased to include them.

Inviting Lady Catherine and Miss Anne was positively out of the question. Lizzy had gently broached the issue, but Darcy, in a rare display of anger toward his wife, had flatly refused even to consider it or to discuss the subject. Lizzy feared the breach between the two was irreparable and it saddened her. She was quite content never to set eyes on Lady Catherine again, thinking her in all ways a horrible woman. Nonetheless, she was Darcy's aunt, sister to his mother, and as the schism was a direct result of her existence, it pained her.

Logically she knew that it probably had been an inevitable event since Anne and Darcy would never have married, neither of them desiring it. Lady Catherine would undoubtedly have been furious at whomever Darcy had chosen to wed over her daughter. Still, logic aside, Lizzy could not stop feeling a bit guilty and wished she could facilitate reconciliation. If it ever happened, it would not be now, so Lizzy pushed the matter from her mind.

Darcy closed his ledger with a snap and stretched his neck, sighing deeply. Lizzy had finished the last invitation, to the Lathrops, so she rose and handed it to her husband.

"The last one," she declared. "How does it sound?"

He took it from her, claiming her hand in the process for a brief kiss. He smiled up at her. "I am certain it is as well written as all the others, my love." As he read, Lizzy stood behind him and began massaging his temples with her fingers. She then ran her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp to relieve the tension she knew he felt after concluding long columns of mathematics. She traveled to his neck and shoulders, kneading firmly with her surprisingly strong hands. Darcy groaned and dropped his chin to his chest. "That feels so wonderful," he sighed.

"Your muscles are too tight," she stated. "How did you ever manage without me to do this?"

"Samuel is actually a fine masseur," he mumbled, "although, the end result of his attentions was never as pleasant as yours!" He clasped one hand and pulled her around and onto his lap. She laughed and then kissed him soundly as her hands resumed their devotion to his shoulders. Darcy untied her nightgown, slipping one hand inside for his own form of massaging.

Lizzy faltered and gasped against his lips. "Sir!" she teased, playfully slapping at his probing hand, "I cannot complete my wifely duty of easing my husband's pain if you distract me so!"

Darcy chuckled and resumed his provocative activities with stubborn persuasion. "There are countless ways to ease my pain, my heart. We simply have differing ideas at the moment. However, I am supremely confident that I can modify your direction with alacrity."

To further prove his point, he fluidly arose with her secured in his arms and carried her into their bedchamber. In the end, he was correct and Lizzy did not balk in the slightest.

CHAPTER TEN

Meeting the Matlocks

L
IZZY LAY DRIFTING OFF
to sleep, bare back pressed firmly against her husband's chest, his heat seeping into her and his strong arms holding her tightly. As always, she was overwhelmed by the incredible peace and joy she felt in the presence of this man she loved so totally. His breath tickled her shoulder as he slept with his head next to hers, the power and strength of him apparent in every muscle of his body as he held her securely. He could not be any closer unless he crawled under her skin! She loved his need to cuddle and, oddly enough, had no trouble sleeping with him so near. In fact, her need to feel him beside her had become a necessity.

Her sleepy musings turned to Christmas. Lizzy zealously anticipated the holiday, even though it meant disruption to their idyllic solitude. She was anxious to renew and deepen her friendship with Georgiana, and she knew William missed his sister. Col. Fitzwilliam was a kind and humorous man, sure to add laughter to the festivities. The elder Fitzwilliams were much more stoic than their youngest son, but they were polite and they were now her family. Memories of her introduction to them in London returned to her, and with those remembrances freshly recalled, Lizzy fell asleep.