Page 5

Mr. and Mrs. Darcy enjoyed a relatively quiet Saturday at their London home.

The knocker remained off the door (although that did not halt the delivery of a small mountain of cards) and a steady drizzle kept the occupants from venturing outside (however much Elizabeth might wish for a walk in the park).

Instead, Fitzwilliam attempted to work through some reports from his steward while Elizabeth met with Mrs. Wilkins and began learning the household.

Two hours later, her mind swimming with accounts, menus, and staffing issues, Lizzy settled in her new study to face the rather daunting pile of correspondence that had already accumulated for the new Mrs. Darcy.

She dutifully penned a reply to her mother, a task that required a surprising amount of care given that she must expect every detail it contained to be spread around Meryton within hours of its arrival.

Far easier was the note to Jane, letting her sister know that the Darcys were happily settled in London and would welcome a call whenever the Bingleys returned to England.

Finally, after several false starts, she also managed to produce a short but sincere letter congratulating Mr. and Mrs. Collins, doing her best to focus her thoughts on their child’s future and not on his making.

Despite this success, she was pleased when her husband entered the room just as she was sanding the last page. “Have you become desolate, all alone in your study?” she inquired impertinently.

Darcy was not prepared to admit that he had spent much of his morning staring out of the window, mooning about his wedding trip and imagining excuses to whisk his wife back to their bedchamber. “ You appear to have gotten quite a lot done.”

If Elizabeth detected the hint of petulance his tone, it was quickly forgot when he set a small box with a white ribbon on the desk before her. “Oh! But what have I done to deserve a present? You will spoil me, and then where shall we be?”

Will came behind her to touch his lips to her temple before whispering in her ear, “Precisely where I want us,” and then enjoying the way her skin blushed where he touched it.

Pausing for a moment to run his hands down her shoulders, he added, “Unfortunately, I fear it is nothing very romantic… let us say that it is a ‘Mrs. Darcy’ sort of gift.”

Elizabeth stood and turned so that she might kiss him properly. “But I expect to be extremely pleased with it then, for I am very happy to be Mrs. Darcy.”

This required such a warm, husbandly response that it was some time until any further attention was paid to the little box.

Later, they cuddled together on the sofa until Fitzwilliam was finally forced to admit that its unpadded arm was digging into his back in a most uncomfortable manner.

“That decides it! We must find time this week to visit the furniture makers… surely they must have something more comfortable for two people to sit upon!”

With a puckish glint in her eye, Lizzy teased, “Well, as most of our existing furniture is quite pleasant to sit upon, I fear that you shall have to be more explicit as to your requirements… shall you like explaining why there is a chaise large enough for two to recline upon in your wife’s boudoir? May I use it when I receive callers?”

She was pleased with the blush that arose on her husband’s neck, but even more with his wry answer; “I believe that the library shall need one as well… and perhaps the music room.”

Elizabeth burst into giggles. “Oh Will, I would like to see your face if Georgiana sat upon such a piece of furniture when she begins receiving gentleman callers!” She could feel her husband tense beneath her hand and it only made her want to laugh more.

The pained tone of Darcy’s voice was only partially pretext.

“Please, do not torture me with such images… oh, very well. I suppose that we shall be forced to keep it in our sitting room.” He had decreed that the room off their bedchamber was to be perfectly private, off limits to all manner of guests or relations.

In the ensuing laughter, the couple failed to hear a tapping at the door.

Thus, when Derwent House’s august butler entered, he was somewhat shocked by his master and mistresses’ informal pose.

To his credit, only a slight widening of his eyes resulted.

“I beg your pardon, sir, madam; I knocked and thought that I heard you say to enter.”

Elizabeth had sat up immediately and was doing her best to pretend that her curls were not tumbling about her shoulders while Darcy immediately assumed his ‘Master of Pemberley’ voice.

“Errr… yes, very well, Holmes, but in the future it would be best if you knocked a bit louder and waited a moment longer. Now, is there a problem?”

“Of course, sir. No problem at all, sir, just the morning post.” Mr. Holmes proffered a salver with several letters. “Also, quite a number of cards have been delivered and I wished to know if I should continue to direct them all to your study, sir.”

While sorting through the mail, Fitzwilliam was about to brush aside the odd question when he noticed that the servant had turned slightly toward Elizabeth. Mrs. Darcy. Will very nearly slapped his forehead.

“An excellent question, Holmes—I fear I’m still getting accustomed to Derwent House having a mistress.” He thought for a moment—he had a vague notion of what duties fell within the mistresses’ domain but no practical experience, having been barely eleven when his own mother passed away.

Elizabeth interceded; “I believe it would be best to continue taking them all to Mr. Darcy’s study for now, Holmes.

We shall be sending around our own cards soon enough and, as there are still many of my husband’s acquaintances whom I have yet to meet, sorting through the cards together may well save us the embarrassment of forgetting someone.

” She raised an eyebrow at Darcy and he quickly expressed his approval.

When the servant had departed, shutting the door firmly behind him, Darcy turned to Elizabeth with a concerned look wrinkling his brow. “I apologize; I should have thought of that ahead of time and instructed the servants.”

Lizzy merely shook her head smilingly. “Believe it or not, I do not expect you to remember everything.” When he continued to look uncertain, she sighed and took his hand.

“Fitzwilliam, I am your wife, not your baby sister. My mother may make a great show of flightiness, but she did train all her daughters in running a household, from attics to cellars. And what she did not teach me, I learned from Aunt Gardiner. Truly, your house may be on a much larger scale than Longbourn but I believe the fundamentals are the same.”

Suddenly, Darcy realized that his attempts to arrange everything for Elizabeth might be taken as a lack of trust in her competence.

He rushed to reassure her; “I have every confidence that your abilities are up to the task… I apologize—I suppose that I am so accustomed to doing it all… I have always tried to keep too much from falling upon Georgiana’s shoulders… ”

“Yes, that is just what I would have thought of you.” Elizabeth smiled and placed her hands on his chest to reduce the sting from what she would say next.

“But you must allow me to take over some duties or I shall feel quite useless… and worse, word will get around that you do not trust your ne w wife to manage the household properly… though I suppose such a rumor would give Miss Bingley and her cronies a certain degree of satisfaction.”

Fitzwilliam groaned and Lizzy knew that her point had been made.

After several minutes of reassurance, Darcy finally directed her attention back to his gift.

As she unwrapped it, he noted with affection how carefully she unknotted the ribbon and set it aside; most of his own female relatives would never have considered saving such a little thing.

While Will considered how uncomfortable he would have been had he married a spendthrift, Elizabeth had picked out a newly engraved seal, similar in design to the much older signet ring that Fitzwilliam wore habitually and used to seal all his mail.

She traced her new initials where they were formed in an ornate script above the Darcy coat of arms, the ends of the letters extending around the margin as vines of ivy.

Worried when his wife did not speak for some moments, Darcy cleared his throat. “I chose the ivy for its dual meanings—friendship as well as love, and fidelity in marriage… but we can easily have a new one made up if you dislike this design….”

Before he could say more, Elizabeth turned and threw her arms around his neck. “It is perfect… thank you so very, very much. More than anything you could give me, this makes me feel as if it is real… permanent… that I belong here.”

Mr. and Mrs. Darcy retired to their rooms soon after that.

Sometime later, Will was lying on his back, dozing contentedly, when he felt the bed sheets move.

Turning his head slightly, he caught sight of his wife picking bits of melted beeswax from the candle and softening them in her hand.

When she shifted back to his side, he mumbled affectionately, “What are you up to, Liz?”

She pressed the bit of warm wax onto his skin, just over his heart. “Why, I am making use of my new gift, of course!” She proceeded to carefully press her seal into the soft wax on his chest. “Now everyone shall know that you are mine.”

Will had to tuck his chin to be able to see his wife’s mark. “Humph… I fear that the wax shall crumble in my next bath. Shall I go down to the docks and have it tattooed, then?”