Darcy raised an eyebrow and looked at her. “Truly? Why is this?”
A smug smile swept her face. “In my study of the character of ladies such as Caroline Bingley and Rosalyn Matthews, I believe that they once were quite amiable. I knew for a fact that Rosalyn was. We got along quite nicely while in London. But something changed at Pemberley.”
“What changed?”
Elizabeth slipped her hand through Darcy’s arm and leaned back in the carriage, her eyes turned forward. “She became quite unreasonable, suspicious, even scheming.” Elizabeth shook her head. “I can only assume that this is what has happened to every young lady who set her eyes upon you as a prospect for marriage.”
Darcy shook his head. “This is preposterous!”
“Is it?” Elizabeth asked slyly. “Consider the fact that you could find no suitable lady in Town. The only reason for that is they all knew who you were and what you were worth. Their behaviour around you was altered beyond anything suitable for you.”
Darcy rolled his eyes. “And you?”
She rolled out a long sigh and tightened her grasp about him. “Due to the fact that I initially found you quite objectionable, I was spared any character transformation.” A satisfied smile lit her face.
Darcy turned his eyes to her. “Your reasoning is flawed, my dear, for you did soon come to view me with strong regard.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, but that was after becoming acquainted with the real Fitzwilliam Darcy. I do not wish to grieve you, my love, but I fell in love with you, and not your fortune or your estate or your standing in society.”
Darcy feigned disappointment. “That is a heavy lot, indeed. I had hoped that at least one of those would have worked in my behalf.”
Laughing at his humour, she leant over and kissed his cheek. “Perhaps when I saw Pemberley I was quite moved to change my opinion of you.” She pursed her lips and cast a sly glance at him.
Darcy cupped Elizabeth’s face with his hand, bringing it toward him. “I had so wanted another opportunity to show you I took your criticism to heart and made an attempt to mend my ways.”
Elizabeth was prevented in responding to him as the carriage came to a stop and the door opened. They stepped out and walked up to a small cottage. An inn was located just at the end of the lane.
“This is where we shall spend our first few days, Elizabeth. I hope it will please you.”
“It looks delightful, Fitzwilliam.”
“Our staff will reside at the inn and we will either take our meals there or have them brought to us. They arrived earlier to prepare our room. Shall we go in?”
Elizabeth nodded just as Mr. Grant opened the door. Anna and two additional servants welcomed them. She gasped as she peered inside. Although small, it had a simple elegance. A meal was waiting, and a small table was set for just the two of them. Flowers and candles added to the ambiance.
Elizabeth looked around her and walked over to a window overlooking the lake. “Shall we be able to see the sunrise from here, do you think?” she asked.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Darcy joined her at the window and pointed to some hills on the far side of the lake. “It ought to rise just over that ridge.”
Elizabeth turned and clasped her hands in joy. “This is delightful! We shall have not an idle moment as we watch the sunrise, explore the paths, read Cowper’s poems and Shakespeare’s sonnets, play chess…” Elizabeth paused and looked up into his eyes with a teasing smile. She wrapped her arms about his neck and brought her lips to his ear. She whispered softly, “And more?”
Darcy’s breath caught and he placed his hands on either side of Elizabeth’s face, combing his fingers slightly into her hair. He looked deeply into her eyes, his own smouldering. “And much more,” he whispered as he slowly lowered his lips to meet hers. She rose up on her toes again to meet his lips, and the two remained captured in a fervent, passionate kiss. The servants discreetly turned their attention to small chores that in truth needed no tending.
Mr. and Mrs. Darcy did not seem inclined to end the kiss, prompting Mr. Grant to usher the servants out the front door, quietly closing it behind them. Turning to the grinning servants, he said with a smile of his own, “I believe it would be prudent of us to adjourn to the inn and wait until we are summoned.” Assuming a manner of authority and tact, he added, “I trust it will be some time before our services will be required.”
Epilogue
One year later
Darcy stood atop the ridge behind Pemberley looking down toward Braedenthorn. He had climbed to the summit with the hope that he would see Elizabeth returning from a visit with her sister. The warmth of the late afternoon sun pressed against his back, and a slight breeze rustled his coattails. He took in a deep breath as he gazed at the view in silent wonder. How could he be so angry at a woman he loved so overpoweringly?
He paced back and forth, as if his fierce strides would bring her into view. She knew he did not want her making that long, strenuous walk in her condition! Not alone and especially not when she was carrying their child!
He gazed out at the valley below, his eyes taking in the verdant greens that would soon give way to the reds and browns of autumn. He watched the path that wound its way down the hill toward Braedenthorn. He did not see her.
He had just returned from three days in London and was disappointed that she had not been home to greet him. When inquiring of Mrs. Reynolds as to her whereabouts, she informed him that Mrs. Darcy was visiting her sister and would return in time for dinner. The look of apprehension on her face prompted him to press her for the particulars on her means of transportation.
“She has walked, Mr. Darcy,” she said nervously, knowing well his feelings on the matter. “But I am quite confident she is still able-bodied enough to do so.”
Concern for her safety and the welfare of their baby battled with the anger that rose as he realized that in his absence, she had gone against his bidding.
Darcy immediately left the house and climbed up the ridge himself, his anger and concern propelling him. He remained at the top and watched, hoping she would appear from around some curve in the path or out from behind a hedgerow. He chose not to walk down himself, for there was always the possibility that she may have taken the Bingleys’ carriage home and would miss her.
As he waited, pacing back and forth, he allowed his thoughts to drift to Elizabeth and the baby she would have by mid-spring. Joy flooded him at the thought that he would be a father, while at the same time he feared that walking the three miles to Braedenthorn would in some way harm her or their unborn child.
At length, he saw her coming from around a curve in the path. She was oblivious to him and seemed to take each stride effortlessly as if there was no alteration in her condition. Immediate relief swept through him, and he walked over to the bench and sat down.
Leaning back and crossing his arms, he waited—rather impatiently. Now that his concern for her welfare was satisfied, his ire again began to rise. His foot tapped on the ground mercilessly as he kept his eyes on the spot where she would come up from the path. It was but a few minutes before Elizabeth reached the top. He smiled, much as he always did, whenever he had the opportunity to watch her when she was oblivious of his scrutiny.
When she looked up and noticed him sitting there, she abruptly stopped. Her jaw dropped, and her eyes widened in comprehension at his presence. Just as quickly, however, she ran up to her husband and sat down on his lap, wrapping her arms about his neck.
“When did you arrive home, my dearest? I thought you were not to return until tomorrow.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead.