Chapter 1
Darcy
The first stop at an inn on Darcy and Elizabeth’s bridal tour was planned to last between one and two hours. That would give the horses a chance to rest, and the couple and their servants planned to refresh themselves and eat luncheon.
Darcy was not the least bit surprised to see that the innkeeper of the George, the innkeeper’s wife, and the maid who served their food all seemed enchanted with Mrs Darcy.
Elizabeth communicated with each very naturally, very politely, with her natural respect for others creating a feeling of warmth in every interaction.
Elizabeth was effortlessly a lady, however, and so the dignity she afforded others never resulted in their behaving with unwonted familiarity, let alone insolence.
“Yes, to the beef stew and the ale,” Darcy told the maid, echoing his wife’s order.
He indicated that he would also be paying for those at the table closest to the inn’s door.
The maid nodded her head and dipped into the kitchen to give their orders before she hurried to take orders from the Darcys’ servants.
As they ate, Elizabeth asked why he was frowning.
“It is not all that important,” he whispered, “and I shall certainly endeavour to smile rather than frown. But I made arrangements ahead of time to have a private parlour for our meal, and yet they had no such rooms after all.”
“Did the untitled gentleman from Derbyshire get pushed aside for a peer?” she teased, also keeping to a whisper. “Or did we arrive unduly early?”
“The excuse was the latter,” he murmured. “But I have a feeling that it was both.”
“Well, I for one am very happy that we are in the public room,” she said softly. “I now have the diversion of seeing so many varied people.”
“And listening to a baby’s cries,” he said.
Although he spoke as softly as she, he knew she could hear the complaint in his tone.
He blushed with embarrassment—Elizabeth was divine and did not suffer as he did from faults such as reluctance to be observed by strangers and irritation with changed plans and diminished accommodations.
“I am sorry to be dismayed at our circumstances. Please ignore my petulance, and I will attempt to emulate your behaviour.”
She smiled warmly at him and began to discuss her great pleasure in seeing from the road portions of Kensington Gardens and the Royal Mews near the Queen’s House.
“And Chiswick House looked lovely, as well,” she said.
They began to talk about the work being done to build canals and locks, although the continuing crying of the infant distracted Darcy more and more as their meal progressed.
He was startled to hear Elizabeth say, “Excuse me, William.” She arose and moved to the family with the squalling baby. Darcy felt a moment of panic about the lack of decorum of his wife approaching the lower-class family—and to what purpose? he wondered.
“Excuse me, I just had to come meet this little one,” Elizabeth said with such warmth and poise, she might well have appeared as a benevolent queen approaching a subject.
The woman, who was likely the mother of the baby, had looked thoroughly embarrassed, Darcy had noted, even before Elizabeth spoke to her and her family, but now she blushed and looked gratefully at Elizabeth’s sweet expression.
“Thank you, madam,” the woman mumbled. “I apologise for all the tumult. We tried…we tried to coax her back to sleep, but….”
“May I sing her a little song?” Elizabeth asked. “It would at least give you a chance to eat a few bites in peace.”
For the first time, Darcy really thought about how uncomfortable the mother must have been, attempting to quiet the child, of course, but even holding the flailing baby while eating her food must have been difficult.
The woman’s eyes widened at Elizabeth’s offer, but she handed the baby over readily and then addressed her food quite eagerly.
Darcy turned in his chair so he could watch as Elizabeth moved to the corner of the room farthest from the door and, giving the baby little rhythmic jiggles, she began to sing.
She sang “Rock-a-Bye Baby,” and the baby instantly quieted with just the first two pleasing notes; halfway through “Golden Slumbers,” the baby looked to be peacefully asleep.
Darcy glanced around the room. He was certain all the diners would be relieved to have the baby soothed and the crying halted, but he wondered if anyone seemed shocked or disapproving of Elizabeth’s unusual behaviour. However, all he saw were smiles.
Darcy scolded himself again for being so caught up in what other people thought.
He had often dared to behave differently than members of the ton, and certainly he had dismissed some folks’ disdain for his choice of Elizabeth over wealthy and titled ladies.
But he saw now that he had much work to do before he could claim to be as accepting and liberal as Elizabeth.
His beautiful wife restored the baby to her parents and rejoined him at the table, and he murmured his fervent thanks for achieving peace in the public dining room and for her unexampled kindliness to others.
“I was merely attempting to live up to the ideal of the Golden Rule,” she said softly.
She leant over to whisper in his ear, “Not only did I ache for the poor babe, the mother looked positively mortified, not to mention exhausted. I remember times in Gracechurch Street when my Aunt Maddie seemed overcome with a baby’s teething or fussing—especially when the nurse had her day off. ”
“I love that you notice such things,” he said.
Soon they were on their way again. Darcy had planned frequent shorter stops to change horses, and they travelled all the way to Basingstoke.
Their accommodations at the Crown were exactly as he had arranged, with the most elegant private rooms the inn had on offer for eating, bathing, and sleeping.
It was only what Elizabeth deserved, he told himself, although he knew that she had never slept at an inn of any sort before, and she was much more open to new experiences than anyone he had ever met.
He admitted to himself that she would cope with discomfort better than he.
That assumption was borne out when Darcy and Elizabeth had finished eating.
A dog had begun to bark. The hound was outside, likely in the stables, and should not have been at all troublesome.
Still, the barking went on and on, persistent and steady, and Darcy began to feel rising irritation.
He was shocked when his wife put on her pelisse, wrapped herself in a warm shawl and clapped a bonnet over hair that she had simply swept up with one hand, before firmly tying her bonnet strings.
She smiled as she said, “I shall see if I can quiet the beast as well as I did the babe,” and she left the room.
Darcy bit his lip in vexation even as he felt himself smile in admiration.
For a long time he had felt it was his pleasure to keep Elizabeth safe, and now that they were married, it was definitely his duty to do so, but such a task might be more challenging than he had hoped.
He hastened after Elizabeth and, with his longer stride, caught up before she had opened the exterior door.
Knowing better than to attempt to talk her out of whatever she intended, he merely followed her to the stables and to the place where a barking terrier was tied up with a very short leash.
The horses were nickering a bit, stamping their feet, obviously uneasy, and Darcy realised that it was more important to soothe the dog for the sake of his and others’ horses, even, than for the cause of people sleeping well.
Elizabeth sat down on a hay bale within reach of the terrier, and she spoke soothingly to him.
He stopped barking. After holding her hand out for the creature to sniff, she began stroking the dog’s floppy, silky ears.
The dog laid down, although its leash was almost too short to afford such a posture.
Darcy sought the help of a stablehand to lengthen the tether with a piece of rope.
The two men attached the piece and tested the knots.
It seemed that the new, longer, leash would do well, and Darcy prayed that the hound would not resume barking once they left.
As Elizabeth said an affectionate goodnight to the terrier and accompanied Darcy back up to their comfortable rooms, she thanked him for his help in securing more comfort for the poor creature.
“I could not have managed those knots, myself, and I am so admiring that you identified and solved the crux of the problem.”
“I feel reasonably certain I would have just fretted all night at the barking, if it were not for you, dearest one,” he argued. “As always, I am attempting to learn from your example.”
“So you will hold the next crying baby we encounter, and sing lullabies to him or her?”
Darcy shook his head. “Unlike you, I am not a magical creature who can charm every single baby and soothe all manner of creatures. I will leave the magic up to you—I am merely hoping to learn not to be so selfish, nor so easily irritated.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Magic? If I was truly magic, I would lift my hazel-wood wand and poof a baby, not just to sleep, but into a fur-lined mantle and kid-leather shoes, with a gold Guinea stitched into its barrowcoat. ”
“And everyone would praise your benevolence—Wait! They already do that!”
“Also, I hope you were jesting with your words every single baby and all manner of creatures. Fully half of the babies I have held and rocked and serenaded have resisted my so-called charms; plus, I am never going to try to soothe a badger or a boar!”
Darcy chuckled and asked, “What about a cranky husband? Would you attempt to soothe one of those?”
“Only if it is my cranky husband.” And she proceeded to soothe him in one of his favourite ways—not lullabies, nor ear-stroking, but instead a generous and lengthy kiss.
It was not long before the two had washed and changed into their nightclothes, dismissed their valet and maid, and laid down in the bed. “We cannot…love one another at an inn, can we?” Elizabeth whispered.
“I think we can, just really quietly. What use would a bridal tour be if we could not show our love?”
“Oh….”
Darcy smiled and asked, “Are you blushing?”
“How can you tell in the dark?” The night was clouded, and no moonlight or starlight would have shown even had they swept aside the curtains.
But Elizabeth’s whisper was so fierce, Darcy felt he could picture exactly how her eyes were sparkling, and one brow must surely be lifted in her impudent way.
He chose not to answer, except with his hands and his lips; he reached for her, drew her body to his, and showed her just how slowly and tenderly he could deliver pleasure.
It was a night of sighs of ecstasy rather than cries, shudders rather than moans.
After they had both achieved satiation, Elizabeth whispered that the need to stay quiet leant the business a sort of thrill, and he chuckled softly and murmured, “Yes, legally bonded wife, we are quite the clandestine lovers.”
“Legally bonded husband, I shall never, ever tell a single soul that, when you are not portraying the staid, prosaic Mr Darcy, you are my hugger-mugger lover.” Elizabeth sounded less pert, even when quoting Hamlet, when she was so obviously sleepy.
“Lovely Lizzy,” Darcy whispered, “having husband and wife be the secret lovers in a tale does cut down on the trouble of one having to bribe servants to pass notes to the other. The lovers can pass their own notes during dinner.”
“Also, it prevents the chill of damp trysts in nighttime gardens,” Elizabeth murmured, following up with a yawn.
“Yes,” he said, “our nighttime trysts are in stables with unhappy terriers. A bit noisier, but not even a little bit damp.”
“I do miss.. the.. drama.. of…a….ladder,” Elizabeth whispered, her words slowing. “I .. could…wish for….”
She faded off, whatever witty words she meant to say trapped inside as she succumbed to her dreams. Darcy just held her close and allowed himself to relax into sleep, as well.