Chapter 20
Those mornings with her husband became the happiest Elizabeth could ever remember.
No more did she lay groggily abed, loathe to face the cold and the difficult day ahead.
Now, as soon as the maids drew the curtains back and brought her a cup of tea, she leapt from her bed.
She soon found a knack for dressing herself so quickly that the tea was still hot when she was done.
Then she carefully carried it along the three long corridors to Darcy’s room and knocked on the door.
There was no real reason to be so secretive.
She was Mrs. Darcy and expected to visit her husband’s rooms from time to time.
Indeed, she was meant to remain there for at least ten minutes (Lizzie based this estimation upon the duration of her father’s visits to her mother’s rooms).
The servants would not have raised an eyebrow at such a routine, but the unusual purpose of her visits made Lizzie more circumspect, for the sake of her husband’s pride.
She usually stayed for more than an hour - a duration which Darcy claimed would serve his pride immensely, if the servants were keeping watch.
He refused to explain the offhanded comment, which had made him smirk when it had occurred to him. Whenever Elizabeth brought it up, he smiled again and shook his head. He should not have been so crass, he told her, and she should put it out of her mind.
Such a frustrating man!
It was not the only thing which made her husband smile.
Once Lizzie had completed the serious matter of checking the port (an activity which she carried out with an exaggerated air of ceremony and a pleased expression) they started the day together.
Elizabeth drank her tea, Darcy his coffee, and they settled into the comfortable chairs beside the fire to chase away the early morning chill.
Sometimes they were comfortably silent, as they had been in Kendal.
Lizzie would sleepily pillow her head on her hand and stare dreamily into the fire.
Admittedly, she did find her eyes sometimes drifting to her husband.
She did not think of flickering flames, then, but of careful hands and sweet kisses and other innocent daydreams. When he invariably noticed her attention, Darcy would call her name to jolt her from her half-doze, and she laughed and looked quickly away.
When they were a little more energetic, they spoke of easy topics.
Darcy was returning to his duties on the estate.
He spoke warmly of the local farmers and their livestock, which they were bedding down in large barns for the winter.
Darcy’s attention to his tenants was a perfect distraction from…
other matters, that they would not discuss.
He enjoyed his duties immensely and his tenants welcomed him back with open arms.
In turn, Elizabeth told her husband about her work within the house.
She was redecorating the billiards room, as Mrs. Reynolds had suggested.
There were hundreds of decisions to be made, from the colour of the walls to the right shade of wood varnish for the dado rails.
Most challenging of all, she admitted, was the purchase of a new billiards table.
It seemed to be a very serious choice and, having never played the game herself, she had no idea what to consider.
“I can teach you to play.” Darcy offered.
“Generally, it is seen as a way for men to escape their wives, is it not? Is it wise to induct me into the fray?” Elizabeth teased, then added, “Besides, you have yet to teach me to swim, and you promised so faithfully!”
Darcy glanced meaningfully out of the window where a hard frost was making the brittle trees crackle in the wind. “I can teach you if you wish, Elizabeth, but we may have to break the ice first! Shall we?”
“Perhaps tomorrow.” she returned with a peaceful smile.
Darcy threw another log on the fire. He felt chilled just from looking out of the window, never mind jumping in the lake.
“I am quite serious about teaching you to play billiards. I need someone to practice with if I am ever to beat Fitzwilliam.”
“Who is that?”
“My cousin. You will meet him soon enough. Whenever he gets bored of London, he finds a way to be damnably underfoot. You will like him.”
Elizabeth grinned wickedly, “It sounds to me like you are outmatched! I shall learn to play, sir, so that I can beat him for you.”
Darcy would not have suffered teasing from most people, but when Elizabeth spoke to him irreverently, he always laughed.
Given that she found at least one way to prod at him every morning, he was relieved.
He had no idea that he was marrying a wit, but it seemed that his wife always had an astute observation or a clever retort on the tip of her tongue.
A few days later, while they were finishing off their drinks, it started to snow. Elizabeth gasped in delight and hurried to the window. Fat, fluffy flakes swirled in the friendly breeze. Pemberley was already turning into a glittering stranger.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, pointing out one glorious landmark after another to her amused husband, “It is so lovely!””
“Shall we go and walk in it?”
“At once!” she reeled around, eyes shining. Darcy nodded very seriously, but his eyes shone.
“You should get dressed first, don’t you think?”
Lizzie looked down at herself and blanched. She had been so keen to see her husband that she had somehow forgotten to get dressed. Her winter dressing-robe was modest and thick, but she still blushed bright red.
“I… I’m so sorry! I didn’t notice!”
“I did.” his solemn face broke into a wicked grin. Elizabeth looked at him suspiciously.
“When, sir?”
“When you came in.”
“When I…? You let me sit here for all this time and you didn’t tell me?” she shrieked.
Darcy maintained his cool demeanour with an effort and pretended to be looking out at the snow. “I didn’t want to cause you any embarrassment, madam.”
Elizabeth glared at him. She was not simply embarrassed, she was mortified.
Her husband, of course, was impeccably dressed.
He always looked strikingly handsome, even early in the morning.
Lizzie had not considered that he was taking extra care with his appearance for her benefit and indeed woke up earlier than she for the express purpose of making himself presentable.
In contrast, Elizabeth felt completely dishevelled. Again, she had no notion that Darcy was pleased by her mistake. He was happy to see evidence of her growing ease in his company and had kept silent because he was loathe to draw attention to it.
After her outburst, Elizabeth started laughing. “At least it is winter. I am almost decent! Think of how awful this would have been in the summer.”
“Do you honestly want me to picture that, Mrs. Darcy?” He asked. Lizzie caught his eye at once. Although his voice was teasing, she could see how carefully he had chosen his words. She replied with the same cautious wit:
“Certainly, I cannot prevent you from forming any thought you wish, Mr. Darcy. I have not even been able to control my own thoughts, of late.”
A strange expression crossed Darcy’s face then, a stillness that she had not seen before. Elizabeth wondered why it was suddenly hard to breathe. When he spoke, his voice took on a low note she had not heard before. They were joking, of course, but it felt like something else.
“Tell me what you wear in the summer, Elizabeth.”
She shivered. When had she wrapped her arms around her stomach? Why did her heart pound? A surge of defiance rose in her stomach, and she met his eyes boldly.
Yet she could not answer! Her words choked her. Darcy took pity on her then and broke the spell by quipping: “Ah, a pompadour wig and a striped velvet ballgown? How very fashionable you are, Mrs. Darcy. Shall we go for our walk before the snow melts?”
He kissed her under a yew tree, in the darkness beneath the branches. It was the lightest caress, his lips barely brushing hers.
Then he took her hand and they watched the dancing snow.