Author's Note: The following scene is excerpted from my collection The Strange Marriage of Anne de Bourgh (ISBN 1453851623, 2010), which is available from Amazon and other online retailers of books.

Mr. Darcy's Homecoming

Mr. Darcy spurred his steed onward as he approached Pemberley. He had been absent from the estate for purposes of business for over a fortnight. The gentleman was so preoccupied with thoughts of his homecoming, and most particularly of the sweet pleasures it would entail, that it was almost too late before he noticed the low branch of the great oak tree. He ducked abruptly and was barely spared. The near accident sobered him, and he began to slow the pace of his horse. He would not be of much use to his wife, he supposed, if he were to arrive sans essential body parts, and Elizabeth did rather like his face.

He later dismounted in the courtyard, and as his groomsmen led his horse away, Mr. Darcy gazed up at the great estate. For the first time since the death of his mother, Pemberley once again felt like a real home. He straightened his coattails and brushed off the dust of the road before mounting those great steps that climbed dramatically to the front door. He hoped he would find his wife alone. He had risen before the sun and after only a few hours of sleep so that he might arrive earlier than expected. He wanted to surprise her.

He was disappointed, therefore, when the first people to greet him were Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Not that he did not care for his relatives; he dearly enjoyed their company at other times, but they were something of an impediment to him now.

He had hardly returned their greetings before asking, "Where is Elizabeth?"

"She is upstairs," replied his sister, "with her chambermaid, preparing for your arrival, which we did not expect to be until late this afternoon."

Mr. Darcy cast a yearning glance up the stairwell, but resigned himself to wait. He would have to sit with his sister and cousin, he supposed, and discuss a score of subjects which, on any other occasion, might have seemed interesting. He was about to speak when Georgiana interrupted him.

"I have asked my cousin to take me to Lambton this morning. I need to purchase some material for my gown for the ball. Would you mind if we leave now? I do not mean to be rude, I know you have only just arrived—"

"By all means, go!" Had that sounded too hasty? From Colonel Fitzwilliam's amused expression, Mr. Darcy could only assume that it had.

"Fear not, Darcy," said the Colonel. "We will be out of your way in a matter of seconds."

When the two had departed, Darcy hurried up the stairs in a most ungentlemenlike manner, but fortunately there was no one about to witness his ascent.

When he found her, she was bathing. He had eased unobtrusively into the room just as Henrietta, the chambermaid, was preparing to douse Elizabeth's hair with a pitcher of water. Henrietta saw him and nearly let out a yelp, but he raised a finger to his lips to silence her. The chambermaid blushed as he crept over and took the pitcher from her hands, motioning for her to leave. Henrietta managed to sneak quietly out of the room and make it a short way down the hall—just outside of hearing range—before bursting into laughter at the master's uncharacteristic behavior. It was then imperative that she find someone with which to gossip. The footman appeared most handy.

Meanwhile, back at the tub, Elizabeth was growing impatient. "I'm ready, Henrietta," she told her nonexistent chambermaid. Darcy poured the warm water over his wife's head and stood mesmerized as the drops seeped into her dark curls. When she leaned forward to let the excess water drip away, he kneeled down and reverently kissed her shoulder.

In an instant she swung around and slapped him hard across the face. He was still massaging the reddened skin when she realized who he was. "I am so sorry, Fitzwilliam…I was confused…I had no idea who was there—"

"Of course not," he said, opening and closing his jaw to make sure it was still fully functional. "You hit harder than I would have expected. Yet I might have guessed you were capable."

Elizabeth began to reach out to caress his injured cheek when she suddenly remembered to be affronted. "How dare you sneak up on me in this manner! What must my chambermaid think?"

"I imagine," teased Mr. Darcy, "that she thinks I am your husband and may do as I please."

Elizabeth now modestly drew up her legs against her body. "Well, she may think so, but I am of a quite different opinion. Now, if you would be so kind, please leave me to finish my bath, and after I am dressed I will meet you in"—Mr. Darcy raised his lips into an expectant smile—"the library."

The smile fell. "Very well," he consented, rising from his position and heading for the door. Before he could grip the doorknob, however, she exclaimed, "If you leave almost immediately, what will Henrietta think?"

He laughed. That was his Elizabeth, still unaccustomed to her newfound wealth and her position as mistress of Pemberley, concerned more about the opinions of her chambermaid than she had been about the opinions of his aunt. "I imagine," he said, "that she will think you are my wife and may do as you please." He shot her one last burning look before closing the door behind him.

THE END