Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
ELIZABETH
Elizabeth had only been to Darcy House a few times, and never since she and William were formally betrothed. She had always thought of it as the height of taste and elegant restraint.
Somehow, even though she had been almost positive that she and William would marry, she had never managed to think of the house as her own home.
Now, as she looked up at Darcy House’s grand proportions, the stately entrance, the many servants—it seemed that there were more than two dozen at this property alone—she felt almost overcome.
But then she saw William’s eyes as he handed her out of the carriage, and in them she recognised confidence as well as love.
He had said that he knew she could manage his homes, and so she would rise to the task.
Feeling bolstered, she swept the lines of servants with a smile and nodded her head as he introduced her.
“Allow me to present to you my greatest joy, the woman who today has made me the happiest of men: Mrs Darcy. I know that you all will serve her with care and dedication, as you have always served me.”
After he escorted her up the stairs, he reintroduced Stanford, the butler, and Mrs Taylor, the housekeeper.
They had treated her well when she was Miss Bennet—honestly, they had treated her as if they had known even then that she would one day be their mistress—and now they could hardly maintain professional decorum, they were smiling so much.
Of course, she was smiling even more, and William’s smile was near blinding. Elizabeth felt certain that his servants, who seemed to respect him highly, were happy to see him so happy.
“More introductions will occur later,” William said, leading her into the entrance hall where they allowed their outer layers to be carried off by as-yet unnamed servants.
He spoke briefly with Stanford—something about bottles—and then with Mrs Taylor—Elizabeth heard William assure his housekeeper that they had eaten heartily in Hertfordshire, but then he asked about “arrangements” and was told that “everything is complete.”
The servants who had lined up outside entered the house, moving swiftly to whatever tasks had been interrupted.
Eventually Elizabeth would know the names of these men and women, and she would learn the allotted tasks of every domestic in the house—the roles they played in the smooth running of the establishment—but now she observed them carefully.
She noted the number of maids who hurried after the woman in a cook’s hat and striped apron, and how many dispersed in the opposite direction.
A surprising number of footmen had entered and scattered, but more men had been in the lines outside.
She imagined that those who had not entered the house must be gardeners who worked on the small, private garden William had once shown her or the men who dealt with carriages and horses.
Having completed his brief consultation with the upper servants, William said, “Allow me to show you to your rooms.” Even though it would be at least two hours before the sun would set, he led her up the stairs and down a corridor.
Elizabeth felt her pulse speed up. Remembering that William had once said that all the activities of the marital bed could occur at any time of the day, she realised that her first time—their first time—was only moments away.
She could hardly wait, but she was surprised to also feel a stab of anxiety.
“This is the mistress’s sitting room,” William said.
He led her into a lovely room glowing with light filtered by the golden and orange leaves of a tree outside the window.
The windows were draped with pale green curtains, and the walls were papered with subtle stripes of varying shades of green.
There were several upholstered chairs, a small settee, a beautiful desk and chair made of cherrywood, and of course a fireplace.
“None of the furniture has been updated since my mother died, more than a decade ago, and any changes you wish to make can be easily accommodated. I did have the curtains, the wallpaper, and the carpeting replaced, but again, you may wish to choose your own; all of this can be changed as soon as you wish.”
“No!—I do not—William, it is just lovely. You chose very well.”
“The same goes for the bedchamber,” he said as he led her through a door and into a room that was also curtained and carpeted in green—this time delving into forest-y shades of that colour. “And here is your dressing room…the bathing room…the water closet…and…the nursery.”
Elizabeth was shocked at the number of rooms in the category of “her rooms,” and she was thrilled to see the most up-to-date luxuries for hygiene. A water closet! And a perfectly enormous bathtub! Longbourn had only chamber pots, outhouses, and a portable hip bath.
“Do the colours used here appeal to you, Elizabeth?” William’s voice had gone quite low and rumbly, but she could hardly be expected to pay attention to colours of wall and window coverings when she was contemplating the very comfortable situation she would enjoy as mistress of a wealthy home.
She opened her mouth to express her thoughts, but she had turned towards the nursery, and she was struck dumb by the charming, old-fashioned furnishings found there. She looked forward to having a baby, and she looked forward to the more immediate activity required to have a baby.
“Elizabeth?” William asked.
She realised that she had neglected to answer his question, and she said, “Everything is beautiful, William. Perfect; at least I think so now. If I desire a change at some later time, I will let you know.”
Looking back at William, over her shoulder, she saw him nod, looking quite pleased with her answer.
Turning to again facing the nursery, Elizabeth leant back against her husband’s body.
She felt his hard member pressing into her backside, and she wriggled a bit and felt it grow larger and harder.
She murmured to him, “This tour has been lovely, but might we…engage in some activity? I find myself quite restive….”
“Restive, are you?” he growled. “I have a notion of how I may solve that little problem….”
And he scooped her up and carried her to the bedchamber.