“Yes,” she answered with a laugh, “but why the chair?”
“You have been on your feet for hours and the book states that pregnant women's feet can swell.” Lizzy glanced to her perfectly slender and tiny feet but chose not to point the fact out. Darcy continued, “I am going to pour myself a brandy. Do you wish for anything?”
“A small glass of wine would be lovely, thank you, dear.” He kissed her forehead and disappeared into the house. Lizzy sighed contentedly, rising to retrieve several remaining meat rolls and a croissant from the dinner table. Darcy returned shortly and they sat quietly, nibbling and sipping as the revelry persisted.
From their hidden vantage point, they could espy most of what transpired on the dance area. Richard was occupied for each dance, the man apparently tireless. Lizzy had delighted to see him lately in attire other than his military uniform. She adored Richard and thought him a handsome man—naturally not as much as her husband, but a fine figure in any suit. Today, as yesterday, he had dressed casually but nonetheless regally, in snug pantaloons of beige and a jacket of russet and gold. Dr. Penaflor had worn shades of grey with a waistcoat of forest green, all designed to accentuate his exotic darkness. He primarily squired Anne, although careful to accompany every other woman as well. Anne was beautiful in a gown of blue and white, modestly cut but not as severe as the majority of her gowns. Naturally, George drew the most attention in his vibrant fuchsia, dancing with feline grace and refinement. Georgiana appeared to relax with each subsequent turn on the floor, none of the gentlemen allowing her to evade. Even Caroline had apparently relinquished her disdain, as Darcy noted her frequently partnered with each man.
For three hours, Darcy and Lizzy reclined in isolation, happily observing the fun. They talked softly, kissed frequently, and cuddled. On occasion, they were visited by someone from the party, usually seeking brief respite and refreshment, only to be snatched away forthwith by a seeking dance partner. There were enough interruptions for Darcy and Lizzy to curb their improper urges, maintaining a regulated decorum in their mild intimacy.
As the midnight hour approached and the orchestra announced the last two sets, anticipation for the final crescendo to the Festival began to rise. Upon entrance to the party, the Darcys had informed each guest to, if possible, remain until after the dancing as they had a special treat planned. None knew what to expect, but based on the grand exhibitions and entertainments offered thus far, the fever pitch of expectation was high.
The last dance ended to extended applause for the outstanding musicians. Folks wandered about in small groupings, not sure what to expect or where to look. Darcy rose to stand prominently at the terrace railing, Lizzy embraced tightly to his chest, both gazing toward the dark knoll above the Cascade Falls, the intermittent flicker of light visible if one attended to the area. Within fifteen minutes word had spread, folks noting the direction the Darcys were staring and turning to peer curiously upward. A hush fell, everyone holding their breath without consciously realizing it, breaths released in a collective gasp of stunned awe mere seconds later.
With a thunderous boom piercing the calm, a rocket was launched far into the starry black sky, exploding loudly into a brilliant shower of gold sparkles. The crowd erupted into claps of joy, the sound instantly lost amid the next rocket blast, this with a rain of white. For twenty minutes, the combined noise of rocket detonations and cheering ruled as the sky above Pemberley lit up with dazzling shimmers of red, gold, blue, white, orange, and green in dozens of shapes and sizes.
Interspersed with the enchanting aerial displays, the firework technicians hired by the Darcys lit a profusion of ground level pyrotechnics. Dense showers of brightly colored sparks resembled water spewing from fountains; fireworks set on small floats drifted down the Falls as the light reflected off the water; and elaborate sculptured shapes were set aflame with a profusion of color. The shapes were myriad: a rose of red, a horse of gold, the flag of England in red and blue and white, “PEMBERLEY” spelled in orange, a dog in white, and—the masterpiece—an enormous detailed replica of Pemberley Manor in gold.
This last was lit simultaneously with the discharge of a dozen rockets; the resulting illumination was brilliant and bathed the entire grounds in nearly broad-daylight radiance. It was stunning; the assembly was momentarily dumbfounded as silence descended in a crashing wave only to be replaced seconds later by a deafening barrage of clapping and yelling. Reports later received indicated that the colorful lights were seen in Lambton to the east, Baslow to the north, and Rowsley to the south. The satisfying finale was stupendous and would be remembered for decades hence.
Darcy hugged his wife, drawing her again into the shadows and turning her about in his arms. He pressed her into his chest, embracing with intense emotion. Speaking huskily to the top of her head, he said, “Elizabeth, you accomplished all this. You! I am so very proud of you. I am… overwhelmed.” He finished in a whisper, caressing her back as he held tight.
Lizzy melted into his embrace, happy and relieved. Withdrawing only enough to grasp her chin with his palm, Darcy bent to kiss her lips tenderly. Meeting her glittering eyes and smiling, he softly said, “Come, beloved, let us retire. The others can fend for themselves. I want to hold you in my arms and whisper into your beautiful ears my abounding adoration.”
With his arms firmly about her, they ascended the stairs to their chamber where Darcy did precisely as he promised… and more.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Solitude
Within a week of the Festival, the secret wish of both Darcys was granted even beyond their wildest dreams. That is, all of their beloved friends and family members vacated the Manor to adventures of their own throughout England, and Darcy and Lizzy were completely and blissfully alone.
On the day following the Festival, an extremely lazy day for all the inhabitants of Pemberley, Charles was the only one who expressed any desire to move beyond the parlor. Everyone was in a particularly mellow mood, the party aftermath ruling with aching feet from dancing, aching heads from drink, and aching stomachs from nonstop eating. While everyone was lying about on comfortable chairs and sofas with needlepoint, books, or letters in hand, Charles spoke into the relative silence.
“Darcy, I believe we shall depart tomorrow if this is agreeable with you. Now that the decision has been made, my Jane and I are anxious to speak with the Bennets and then begin our preparations for relocating.”
Kitty and Georgiana were the only persons in the room whose faces fell in dismay. Darcy laid aside his book with an understanding nod. “Of course, Charles. I understand your eagerness and you know you have my blessing. However, if I may remind you, the Matlocks are joining us for dinner tomorrow and I was imagining that being our last engagement prior to our being parted from the delightful company of you and your lovely wife for several months. Is one additional day at Pemberley too daunting to imagine?” Darcy smiled at his friend, Bingley rapidly assuring him that one day was agreeable.
“Mr. Bingley,” Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke from his relaxing pose near the window, “if you would be willing, I believe Miss de Bourgh and I will accompany you on the road. It is always wiser to travel in groups if possible.”
“Naturally, Colonel, you are welcome. Netherfield is open as well if you or Miss de Bourgh desire a brief respite ere traveling on to Kent.”
“Well, since a caravan is forming, I shall chime in and rudely insinuate myself and Raja to the party,” George declared. His spindly, yellow and cornflower blue garbed frame stretched flat on the rug before the fireplace hearth. “I know Dr. Penaflor wants to keep an eye on his patient and I am sensing the urge to visit my sister.” He sat up, crossing his long legs. “William, I was going to ask permission to stay at Darcy House for a spell before traveling on to Devon. I should warn Estella I am heading her way, at the very least. Perhaps I will even give her more than one day's notice.” He grinned at his nephew, recalling his abrupt appearance in London.