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Lady Anne Darcy felt a sense of contentment that she had not felt since her beloved husband was taken from them.

Pemberley was no longer just a house; it was a home again.

The undeniable love between the master and the mistress seemed to permeate every corner of the great house.

She felt that the atmosphere at Pemberley was so very much lighter, it was as if the whole estate had woken up from a five-year slumber.

The tenants that had the pleasure of meeting the new mistress had sung her praises to their friends.

In a few days, Elizabeth would join her mother-in-law to visit the tenants so that Lady Anne could formally introduce the new mistress of Pemberley.

The Dowager Duchess chuckled to herself as she remembered how Pemberley’s clergyman and friend of William’s from Cambridge, Mr. Patrick Elliot, and his beloved wife Emily had stood and stared at the happy and ebullient Duke of Derbyshire with mouths gaping.

Their little daughter Grace, just two, and the cutest imp of a young girl with auburn ringlets, had giggled at her mama and papa’s funny reactions.

The Elliots did not join them in London for the wedding as Emily Elliot was heavy with child, and Mr. Elliot did not want to risk his wife or new babe with almost three days of travel each way.

Pemberley’s doctor, Mr. Ulysses Jamison had concurred with the worried husband and added his recommendation that they not travel.

Their son, Timothy, or Tom as they called him, had been born six weeks previously.

Patrick Elliot was one of the few people in Darcy’s life that had always been honest with him.

Lady Anne knew from conversations that she had both with William and the clergyman, that on the master’s return in December of the previous year after his setdown by his now wife, Mr. Elliot had not minced words as he had pointed out that it was high time that someone had taken him to task.

He had talked to his friend about his behaviour on prior occasions but as he was then, Darcy had dismissed his friend’s council.

Lady Anne was certain that the reason that her son valued the rector’s friendship so highly was that he did not defer to her son; he told him the truth as he saw it, not what he felt that William wanted to hear.

In addition to the Pemberley living, Elliot had also been gifted with the Lambton and Kympton parishes.

Unlike most clergy in similar positions, his income from three lucrative livings brought him close to two thousand a year.

He was actively involved with the parishioners in all three parishes, to make sure that there was always a clergyman in each parish, he employed two curates.

He and them rotated each Sunday so that as the living holder, he would perform the services at each church once every three weeks.

The curates were paid in excess of the norm for those in a curator position, and despite the objections of his friend, Darcy insisted on paying half of their salaries.

Elliot was the third son of Sir Everett Elliot, a baronet, and his mother was Lady Ilene.

The pastor owned a small estate, Riverdale, in Shropshire that brought in a further two thousand a year.

Money was not a motivator; Patrick felt a true calling for his vocation.

The Elliots had been effusive in their well wishes over both the elevation and the marriage, and already loved the new Duchess.

Emily and Lady Elizabeth were already well on their way to being friends.

Elizabeth woke to find her husband still in bed and staring at her with an adorably loving expression. “Do I have a blemish, husband?” she teased. “What are you thinking of William?”

“You are my first thought when I wake in the morning, and my last thought before I fall asleep at night,” he told her as he took her hand and kissed it then leant over and kissed her lips lovingly.

“My heart beats only for you, my greatest joy is having you as my wife and sharing all that the future holds for me with you, my Lizzy.” He leaned over and kissed her more deeply than before.

“You, my Lizzy, fill my thoughts and I am still in amazement that I get to fall asleep and wake up next to you each and every day, and,” he added with a rakish grin as he waggled his eyebrows, “I get to do all the things that we do before we fall asleep, my love.”

“Fitzwilliam Darcy!” his duchess scolded him playfully as she blushed deeply, “it is most indecorous to talk of such things to a lady.” She swatted his arm in jest. “I too think of you all the time, William. As grateful as you are to be married to me, I am as grateful that you are my husband. Not even death will stop me loving you, William.” She leaned over and trailed kisses down his chest and was able to prove her words truth as he responded to ministrations with needs he wanted only her assuaging; however she chose to that morning.

Afterward, her husband exited the bed to use the necessary and his wife leaned on her elbow as she admired him.

“You are better to look at than any statue or painting I have ever before viewed,” she said saucily as she appreciated his naked body.

“I always considered you handsome, but as I watch your muscles ripple beneath your skin, it is fascinating.” She soaked him in, her words no more than a breathy whisper by the end of her speech.

Darcy stopped and turned to look down at his beloved wife, “As I am your husband, you are welcome to look at me and admire what you see any time you wish,” the Duke agreed, displaying his dimpled smile that would have made her weak at the knees had she been standing.

“As happy as I am that you find my body pleasing, I know that what we have goes far beyond physical beauty as you, my dearest loveliest Elizabeth, are the most beautiful woman in the world. For the longest time I have dreamt about loving you, but I have to tell you that not even my wildest dreams came close to the reality of you. Having you with me every night and day since we married has met and far exceeded any of my hopes and dreams of what it would be like to be married to you my love.”

“My feelings mirror yours, William. It is not only you who dreamed about us before we married,” Elizabeth admitted.

“Even before I allowed my head to acknowledge what my heart was screaming out to it; I would dream of you. Even only being married to you for this short a time, I too can say that the reality far exceeds anything that I dreamt, my grace,” she teased trying out a new pet name for her husband as she reluctantly arose from the warm bed and they rang for their personal servants to prepare for the day.

They joined their mother and sister to break their fasts, and had just taken their seats when Mr. Douglas brought in a missive on the silver salver. Darcy saw that the message was from Andrew, broke the seal, and read the short and to the point note.

“Oh no!” he exclaimed.

“What is it, William?” asked his concerned wife.

“Marie fell while descending the stairs and has been injured,” he reported with much worry for his sister-in-law. The missive did not specify what the injury was.

“I am sure that Jane and Richard are on their way to Hilldale, we…” Elizabeth said with tears in her eye for her sister’s pain.

“The carriage will be ready to take us thither in an hour, my love,” he said, pre-empting his wife’s request.

“Georgie and I will stay here,” Lady Anne said. “If we are needed, let us know. We are close enough that we can be there in three hours.”

“We will, Mother Anne,” Elizabeth replied distractedly.

As she walked away from her mother-in-law, she requested that a footman tell her maid to pack a few things and to pass the same information onto the master’s valet.

After a hurried meal, the Duke and Duchess of Derbyshire headed to Hilldale with all speed.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

The Coastal Trader arrived in Ballycastle on schedule.

The Captain of the ship went ashore to visit Mr. Liam O’Connor, the postmaster who was an acquaintance due to his monthly visits to the small coastal town.

As a favour, and without questioning why Captain Beauclerk needed it, he franked the letter showing that it originated from his post office.

He was given the direction of the Dennington Lines office in Liverpool and agreed to forward any letter that arrived addressed to Mr. Anthony or Tony álvarez to Mr. Wrightfield at that direction.

With his task accomplished, the Captain returned to his vessel to relieve the first mate and supervise the loading of the new cargo as was his wont. They would arrive in Bundoran in a sennight, and he hoped that Clements had been successful in his attempt to contact his men.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

Jones returned to the boarding house with a letter that the postmaster had handed to him when he went to check if there had been any post for him, Forester, or Tibbson. Once he had closed the door to their room, he broke the seal.

“What ‘ave you there, Jonesy?” Tibbson asked.

“A latter from Mr. Clements,” was the terse reply. “Ere, let me read it to you two layabouts,” he joked with his brothers-in-arms.

June 24, 1812

Dublin Docks

We have orders from his Grace.

A day or two afore we dock in Bundoran, you are to capture McLamb and his two cronies. Make it look like they scarpered. Get a crate or crates large enough to put them in, and make sure that they are drugged and sleeping on the day that we load our cargo.

They will be loaded into the hold for transport to see his Grace’s son-in-law, an ex-colonel in the Royal Dragoons and a hero of more than one battle, the very one who employed Sergeant Hamms. He is right keen to acquaint himself with Hamms’s murderers.