Lizzy could not erase her vivid dream, so decided that subtle shades of blue and yellow would grace the walls. Harriet Vernor had recommended the decorator who had assisted her with their nursery, so an appointment was made for the following week. In the meantime, the women gladly offered inspired advice, more for the enjoyment of doing so than out of any real knowledge or expectation. Even Caroline chimed in now and again, apparently caught up in the enthusiasm, and was actually quilting a baby blanket. They were all shocked at the effort, and doubly at the skill she employed, as none of them would have imagined Caroline Bingley capable of wielding a sewing needle.
Thus, the footman announcing impending visitors found the ladies all bent over a baby project of some sort when he entered the room. Collectively, the fabrics and yarns were stowed as the occupants hastened from the room. Lizzy instructed Phillips to inform Mr. Darcy as she rushed to the foyer.
Entering the long, curved promenade were Dr. Darcy, Dr. Penaflor, and Colonel Fitzwilliam mounted on horseback trailed by a carriage with the Matlock crest. The females clustered on the porch as the men dismounted, Richard waving in greeting as he turned toward his parent's carriage. Dr. Darcy bounded up the steps first, sweeping Georgiana into an embrace and leaning for a kiss to Lizzy's cheek before either was fully aware of his intent. Lizzy blushed and Georgiana giggled, while Dr. Darcy's eyes swept over the house.
“Ah, Pemberley,” he said in a tone of deep affection. “How beautiful she is.” He sighed and smiled brightly. “It is good to be home!” He kissed Georgiana's forehead and turned toward Dr. Penaflor. “Did I not tell you it was the most excellent home in all of England, Raja?”
Dr. Penaflor merely nodded, busy bowing elegantly to each lady in succession. Darcy marched over the threshold at that moment, pulling his jacket over a dusty shirt in an attempt to make himself presentable, unaware of the cobwebs clinging to his hair.
“Uncle! How wonderful you have arrived. Welcome to Pemberley, Dr. Penaflor. I see you have brought the Matlocks in your wake.” Darcy shook hands with his uncle, both men grinning identically.
“Are you not too old to play adventurer in the attic William?” George asked with a brush to his nephew's hair.
Darcy swept frantically through his hair, making it worse in the process, finally laughing as he shrugged and gave up. “I was retrieving nursery furniture actually. Attics are not designed for frames such as mine.”
“Besides,” chimed in Colonel Fitzwilliam, “the game was ‘explorer’ and Darcy cannot be Marco Polo if I am not present to be Kublai Khan.” Richard mounted the last few steps, smiling broadly with a shyly smiling Anne de Bourgh on his arm, Lord and Lady Matlock following.
“Anne! How delightful.” Darcy kissed his cousin's hand. “We were so hopeful that you would visit.”
Joyful and heartfelt greetings proceeded all around as the group slowly wend their way into the house. Anne had not visited Pemberley in over five years and was thrilled to be here—and to be away from her mother. The Matlocks had cajoled, pleaded, threatened, and bribed, finally eroding Lady Catherine's will. The fact that Anne was twenty-seven and more than capable of deciding her own plans had very little bearing as far as Lady Catherine was concerned. Anne, however, was manifestly improving each day. She felt stronger and her cheeks were pink. Her daily-increasing exuberance, supplemented by her aunt and uncle's involvement, had bolstered Anne's usually timid nature and weak backbone. She had kindly but forcefully exerted herself, stating with a tremulous voice, yet unequivocally, that she was traveling to Pemberley. Lady Catherine had countered with the imperious declaration that she, therefore, would also be coming. Anne had blanched and hung her head in disappointment. Lord Matlock rapidly annihilated that threat by firmly reminding her that the Darcys had not invited her. One could almost raise a smattering of sympathy for poor Lady Catherine, who lately seemed to be receiving a lashing from nearly everyone!
Anne was immediately accosted by Georgiana, who reintroduced her to Miss Kitty, and the two were soon chatting giddily as they led Anne into the house.
“Dr. Darcy,” Lizzy began.
“It is George, Elizabeth. GEORGE.” He spoke slowly, shaking his head in mock exasperation, “Why can she not remember my name, William?”
Darcy smiled, squeezing his blushing wife's arm. “She is exhibiting proper manners, Uncle. You recall manners and propriety, I assume?”
“Ah yes. Manners: the bane of the English existence. Very well then, how may I help you, Mrs. Darcy?”
“Forgive me, George, I was hoping you could allot the time, as soon as feasible, to examine William's arm. He is frankly vexing us all with his moping glances toward the stables.” She smiled winsomely at her husband, who mumbled something about never moping.
Dr. Darcy, however, was gazing at him with raised brow and a slight lilt to his lips, “Does your arm yet pain you, William?”
“Not in the least, Uncle.”
“Even when you raise it above your head?”
“No.”
He shrugged. “Then why are you not riding your horse?”
Darcy stopped abruptly with a glare. “Because you, Doctor Darcy, ordered me not to until you examined me and gave the approval.”
George arched both brows in surprise. “Did I really say that?”
“Yes, you did,” Darcy said through gritted teeth.
“Hmmm, how odd.” George was stroking his chin in perplexity. “Although it does sound like something I would say, is that not so, Raja?”
“Yes, it does sound like you, George,” Dr. Penaflor was grinning, sparkling teeth flashing.
“If you declare it so, William, then I believe you. What I should have said is that you may resume all normal activities once no further pain is felt.” He clapped Darcy on the shoulder, the left one, with a brilliant smile. “How is that? Happy now?”
Darcy was staring at him open mouthed. With a final glare and shake of his head, he pivoted and stomped into the parlor. George met Lizzy's glittering eyes, winking broadly and grinning as he gallantly offered an arm. Once in the parlor, Lizzy approached her husband who was brooding by a far window. As humorous as George Darcy was—and a part of Lizzy did want to burst into laughter at his teasing of Darcy—she nonetheless sympathized with Darcy's frustration. She gently placed her hand on his arm and he turned to her.
“Are you alright, beloved? Your uncle was merely teasing you, so do not be too angry. I, for one, am glad you have given your shoulder the additional time to fully heal. I rather like you perfectly intact and functional.” She tiptoed to kiss his cheek, caressing briefly over his chest.
Darcy sighed and smiled sheepishly. “You are right, of course. Am I pathetic if I admit that the truth is I miss my stallion?”
Lizzy chuckled. “Not in the least. If I must share your affections, I can endure it being for a horse. Promise me that you will rise early tomorrow and go for a long ride?”
Darcy hugged her and kissed her forehead. “Thank you, my dearest. I love you.”
“Yes, I know.” She brushed through his hair, removing the last of the cobwebs and smoothing it flat. With a final check to his cravat she declared him perfect.
They rejoined the group lounging about on the numerous sofas and chairs of the spacious parlor. George had helped himself to Darcy's whiskey, sipping with delight. “Wonderful blend, William. For some reason I have never ascertained, whiskey is nearly impossible to acquire in India. You should try some, Raja.”