Chapter Fifteen
“Edward,” Aunt Gardiner said numbly. “Eddie will be the heir one day.”
Uncle Gardiner was no less stupefied than his wife. “The man barely knew me, Thomas. I was still at school when you married my sister.”
“Yet you were already winning prizes in mathematics. Oh, my father likely thought it would never come to pass,” Papa said, appearing quite pleased with the surprise he had sprung on them all.
“After all, when the will was written, I was only thirty and about to wed. We all assumed there would be an heir. If not, Mr. Collins the elder was in excellent health—and his son was a young boy and seemed stout enough. It was entirely unexpected that the estate should fall to the remainder man. Still, I believe he made a wise choice. I even told him so at the time.”
“You knew?” Uncle Gardiner asked. “You knew all along?”
Papa shrugged. “There was no need to mention it until we were certain that no long-lost Bennet relations would appear to take your place. It would have been cruel to raise your hopes in such a way.”
Elizabeth was vastly pleased with this turn of events. Longbourn would stay in the family, even if it was not the Bennet family. Uncle Gardiner would be a much better financial caretaker than her father. He did not know very much about running an estate, however.
“Edward,” Papa said, his thoughts clearly mirroring hers, “now you really must make time to visit.”
“You are all welcome to Pemberley as well, including the children. We are engaged in a variety of new techniques . . .” Before he had completed the sentence, William stopped speaking.
He straightened in his chair, his cheeks flushing red.
“Of course, I shall leave it to my wife to offer the invitation.”
Elizabeth squelched her laughter. “You usurp my duties already, Mr. Darcy?”
To her great delight, he offered her a sheepish little grin. “I have been on my own a long time, Elizabeth. Occasionally, you may be required to remind me.”
“Well,” Elizabeth addressed the room, “I think it a fine idea.” She gazed lovingly at her husband. She did laugh a little then. “So fine an idea that I invited my aunt and uncle when we were here last.”
Her husband shook his head self-consciously. “That is a great relief,” he replied, and accepted the good-natured teasing of the others in the room.
Where had all his formality gone? Elizabeth knew then that he trusted the people in this room.
She loved them, therefore he had decided to love them, too.
It would be more difficult for him to offer the same to the rest of her family, but she suddenly had no doubt that he would be a gentleman for them as well. She smiled brightly at him.
He placed his hand over hers, much as he had when they entered the house.
“We would be pleased to have you stay for dinner,” Aunt Gardiner was saying. Elizabeth hoped no one else had noted her distraction.
“I thank you, Aunt,” she said. “However, cook will be upset with me were we to dine out tonight. She has already begun her preparations. Later in the week, perhaps?”
She was not watching her husband’s face, but Aunt Gardiner’s kindly visage shone with approbation. “That would be lovely, dear. Shall we say Thursday evening?”
Elizabeth glanced up at William. He was gazing down at her with a look she recalled from their chambers. It was time to make their farewells.
“Until Thursday, then,” she said.
“Perhaps you might arrive early on Thursday, Lizzy, so we can have a proper visit,” Jane said.
Elizabeth gasped happily. “Jane, will you remain in town?”
“Oh,” her sister replied, a little red staining her cheeks. “I have quite forgotten to say. Aunt has asked that I remain through the festive season, as Uncle Gardiner will not be able to leave his business this year.”
“It is time for him to hire a manager,” Aunt Gardiner said firmly. “Particularly in the face of Thomas’s news. Is not that right, Mr. Gardiner?”
Uncle Gardiner shook his head and looked sheepish. “Yes, my dear. I believe you are correct. In fact . . . “ He tipped his head towards the door. “I really should get back.”
Aunt Gardiner stood and placed her hands on her hips. “Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy,” she said sweetly, “we look forward to seeing you next week. Mr. Gardiner, may I speak with you, please?”
Mr. Gardiner made his farewells and held out his arm for his wife.
Papa came over to kiss Elizabeth on the forehead as the Gardiners exited. “I believe Edward will be hiring a manager within the week.”
Jane and Elizabeth laughed.
“I am very proud of you, daughter,” Papa said, taking Elizabeth’s hands. “I am for Longbourn tomorrow as planned. Will we see you there before you depart for Pemberley?”
“Elizabeth and I will remain for part of the season,” William said.
They had not spoken of these plans, and Elizabeth felt her indignation begin to flare.
Then he added, quite naturally, “I wish to show Elizabeth off, and I know she would enjoy visiting the museums and attending the theater. But when she decides she is ready to leave, we will certainly arrange a visit.” He placed a large hand on the small of her back.
She wished to reprimand her husband for making such a decision without even consulting her, but my goodness, he was so very thoughtful that to rebuke him would make her feel churlish.
He was correct—she would indeed enjoy visiting the museums, and she loved the theater.
Perhaps he might even escort her to a concert or the Opera House.
She had never attended an opera. Once this mess with Mr. Howard was resolved, they would have a wonderful time.
She squared her shoulders, ignoring the apprehensive glance her husband sent her in response.
All she did, in the end, was take her father’s hand. “We shall certainly make a visit, Papa. Mama would be disappointed if she were unable to pose us in the drawing room and invite all the neighbors to visit.”
William coughed, a sure sign, Elizabeth thought, that he was masking some discomfort at the notion. That would be punishment enough.
In no time at all, she had farewelled her father and Jane, and was happily ensconced in the carriage with William.
He reached across her to pull down the shades, then draped one arm around her shoulders. “You are an impertinent minx,” he told her.
She tipped her head to one side. “You do not appear to be distressed by it,” she responded.
He kissed her. No warning, no slow approach, just his lips on hers. “Oh,” she whispered when they broke apart. “What did I do to deserve that?”
William’s expression crumbled. “My apologies, Elizabeth,” he said, stuttering slightly. “I should not have . . .”
“Do not you dare apologize,” Elizabeth said laughingly. “I quite enjoyed it. You startled me, is all.”
She was relieved to see the tension in his face disappear. He cradled her hand in his own large, gentle one.
“I kissed you because”—he stopped to place his lips against her thumb, and the sensation made her shiver—“you made excuses to your aunt.”
He pressed her index finger to his lips, and she drew in a quick, shallow breath. “You made excuses,” he continued, “because you wished to be alone with me.”
“Yes,” she concurred in a shaky voice. “I did. I do.”
“Then our wishes are in accordance,” he said, placing a kiss on her middle finger.
“Mmm,” was all Elizabeth could muster. How could something so simple addle her so completely?
He caressed her ring finger, and Elizabeth wondered if her complexion would ever recover. She placed her free hand against her burning cheek. “I am merely pleased,” he whispered, placing a final kiss on her little finger, then lifting the palm of her hand to his lips, “that you feel the same.”
An image of her husband when he removed his banyan flooded her mind and sent her heart racing.
It took some time for Elizabeth to recover enough to answer him.
“You must not do that again until we are in our rooms, William,” she warned him as she attempted to regulate her breathing.
“It has made me feel . . .” Her eyes drifted closed as he brought his mouth to her wrist.
“Yes?” he asked, sounding just as breathless.
“I do not know how to describe it.” She could not, even when her mind was working correctly.
William dropped a final, feathery kiss on her temple. “It is desire, dearest. And love.”
“Love,” she said with a sigh, taking his arm and leaning against him. “And we almost never knew.”
After a hurried entrance and a playfully indecorous dash upstairs, the newly married Darcys did not emerge from their chambers until dinner, when, truly fearing the displeasure of Cook, they removed to their private sitting room.
Mrs. Spencer sent word the next morning that the full staff would return soon.
She would have them prepare the formal dining room unless Mrs. Darcy did not wish it.
It was a sad reminder that within the week their relative privacy would come to an end.
After dinner on Sunday, Darcy gathered their empty dishes and placed them on a tray. Elizabeth was reclining on the chaise, feet tucked beneath her, winding a lock of hair around one finger and staring into the fire. In her other hand was a copy of Twelfth Night.
He took the tray into their sitting room and left it for Slipworth, who was still acting as their maid, before returning and sitting beside his wife, pulling her legs over his lap and caressing her feet. He adored saying it. His wife.
“Where are your slippers?” he asked. The woman was forever leaving her feet bare.
Elizabeth smiled at him. “Next to the bed.”
He stood to collect them.
As he returned to slip them on her feet, she asked quietly, “Will it always be like this?”
“I am not certain what you mean,” he replied.
She closed the book. “Will we always be like this, together as though the world outside no longer matters?”