Page 78 of Count the Cost (The Secrets of Elizabeth Bennet #2)
D arcy had parted from Elizabeth only yesterday when he handed her up into the carriage, and pressed a kiss to her hand before letting her go and watching her leave Pemberley. Since then, the house had seemed empty, devoid of the laughter and light that she alone could bring.
It was the first time that they had been apart since their marriage and his bed had been a lonely place, which was why he was downstairs early this morning, and thanking heaven that she was only away for the one night.
But she had requested the opportunity to visit Lady Mildred at the Bedford estate, and Darcy could refuse her nothing. However, it was nearly a hundred miles, and she had left early yesterday morning so that she could be back today before dark.
He worried for her, but with her maid and young Mr. Reed, as well as the coachman and grooms, she was well protected, although Darcy had sent two outriders as well. He was still concerned, though, and would not be content until she was back by his side.
But he would not stifle her independence and she had laughed at his concern. “I will be back before you know I am gone!”
He stopped work to take breakfast and read his post. Georgiana was well and enjoying being in town with their aunt and uncle, and Darcy had been glad of it while Elizabeth was with him. But now, the house seemed empty. One more day.
He raised his head at the knock on the door. “Enter.”
The butler came in with a letter on the silver tray and Darcy frowned. “An express?” The post had been delivered already.
The man bowed. “No, sir. I was asked to give you this at eleven o’clock this morning.”
Darcy automatically glanced at the clock. “Very well.”
As he took the letter and nodded his dismissal to the servant, he smiled as the aroma of sage rose from the envelope.
Elizabeth’s hand had written his name. Darcy smiled down at the envelope, created by hand with chopped dried sage leaves in the rag pulp. The paper was made in a specially-shaped mould and deckle, so that the envelope was folded from the single sheet.
Elizabeth had persuaded her customers of the virtue of using envelopes rather than merely folding the sheets of the letter.
Now, she provided little dried sprigs of violets, camomile, or sage, to match the scented envelopes, and they would not be lost during the post delivery.
Her envelopes had been a sensation at Gardiners, and now she had sage, juniper or rosemary for masculine scents, commenting to her customers that when they wrote to the men in their lives, these scents would be more appropriate.
Not only had she increased her fortune from the envelope idea, but there was now a little workshop in Lambton, employing some of the young people who might otherwise have had to leave their families to gain employment.
Collecting the cotton rags and making pulp, drying the flowers and herbs, and making up the envelopes — his wife was a marvel.
Darcy inhaled the scent as he lifted the envelope to his nose, then broke the seal and carefully opened the envelope. Elizabeth.
My dearest, dearest William,
This letter is for you at eleven o’clock on this, the twelfth day of March.
Exactly one year ago today, we stood side by side in the little church at Longbourn, and took our marriage vows.
How quickly the time has passed, and yet, I can barely remember my life before then.
You have given me untold joy and love over this past year, and yet I can still scarcely believe I was so fortunate to win your love and your determination that I should be able to live my secret without let or hindrance within our marriage.
Thank you, my love, thank you for all that you do for my comfort each and every day.
I think often of the sturdy oak your mother planted, and am pleased to see it sending forth new growth again this spring. And my father’s penny box on the mantel of my bedchamber, containing the penny, reminds me always that worth is not in coin, or name, but in love.
And there is something else I must tell you that is connected to the oak and the penny from our childhoods.
Our babe has quickened within me, so now I can tell you that both the oak and the penny are soon to be the foundation of a new generation at Pemberley.
What a joy it is to carry your child, and now we can share in the anticipation.
I will be with you before dark tonight, and we can celebrate together the anniversary of our marriage and the new life to come.
I love you more than I can say.
Your Elizabeth
The letter had fluttered to the table as Darcy felt the message within. A child! Elizabeth was carrying their child. He knew a moment’s anxiety that she had not told him before this when she must have known — he might not have let her travel alone.
Then he smiled. It was not often that a gentleman knew of an impending child before the quickening; Bingley had only known because Mrs. Bingley had been so very ill.
His heart tightened with anticipation; he longed for Elizabeth to be home again, although he had the rest of the day to wait.
He loved her beyond measure, and marvelled that she, once so guarded, trusted him not only with her secret talents but now also their shared future.
Perhaps he might ride out and meet her carriage on the road. Then he could join her for the final miles home.
Yes. He would do it. He would see her sooner. He leaned back in the chair, smiling to himself. He would leave immediately after lunch.
The sage scent swirled from the desk. The scent of devotion — of her to him, and of her to her business, the secret she trusted him to keep — but sweeter soon; the moment he could gather Elizabeth into his arms again and feel their future quicken beneath his hand.
Elizabeth. His wife. His love. Together for ever.