Early August, 1814 – Gracechurch Street, London
The wedding took place according to the usual formalities and, at its conclusion, Elizabeth Bennet surrendered the name of Bennet, to her immense satisfaction, and took that of Elizabeth Waring. As she was to confess to her sister afterwards, it was as though she shed, for once and for all, the tarnish that her youngest sister had attached to her. The shame affixed to the name of Bennet was a burden she no longer had to bear.
As she contemplated her future, she remembered her vows. They would, she knew, be easy to honour. She had come to know her husband well enough to realize that to love, honour and obey would entail few problems even if, she chortled to herself, the obey part might be stretched as they became more comfortable with one another. She believed that he would never ask her to do something to which she had serious objections. She trusted in his love and his honour.
By ten that morning, they had departed from the wedding breakfast to the dismay of Mrs. Bennet who could not, despite repeated explanations, understand their need to leave so precipitously. Fortunately, the number of guests was not large, consisting mainly of the Bennets, Simmonses and Philipses and a few friends of the Gardiners and Simmonses who had been invited. Mr. Waring's family – comprised of an elder sister and her husband, had not attended nor had they been expected. However, to Waring's surprise, his niece and her husband had attended, contrary to the wishes of her parents, met his future wife, and approved of her most heartily. Plans for future visits were laid with an invitation to them to visit Oaksley Manor at Christmas.
Despite Mrs. Bennet's urging, no one from Meryton had been invited and their absence was regretted only by that lady. Mr. Bennet was much as he had become over the last few years. The barrier, arising out of Lydia's disappearance, and out of his own and his favourite daughter's recognition of his failure as a father, had created an obstacle that neither had been able to surmount. His feelings of resentment, guilt and hurt pride which had come to colour their once comfortable relationship could not be dissipated so easily. Elizabeth's own withdrawal and increased absences from Longbourn only solidified their estrangement. Inasmuch as Longbourn seemingly could be managed quite competently without his involvement, he had no excuse, no reason not to retreat into seclusion. What purpose did he serve after all? With these somber thoughts he walked his daughter down the church isle, surrendered her hand to the man she would wed knowing that she was doing so for many reasons not least of which was the desire to escape him and her situation at Longbourn.
They had settled comfortably into their carriage and, for the first time in her life, Elizabeth was alone with a man who was neither her father nor her uncle. She was not sure how she felt. Anxious, for a certainty. Her husband seemed to sense her qualms and allowed her to adjust at her own pace, only claiming her hand as his.
It was as unsettling as anything she had previously experienced when he removed her gloves, and his own, and nestled her smaller hand in his, gently stroking the back of her hand. If he thought that he was calming her, Elizabeth could have informed him otherwise. The urge to be kissed was growing apace and yet the courage to admit of that desire escaped her at the moment. The brief brush of his lips at the conclusion of their wedding ceremony had barely registered. While she was mulling over these thoughts, he spoke.
"We have not discussed our trip at all. It is, as I believe you know but perhaps have not considered, almost one hundred and twenty miles to Oaksley – too far to travel in one day unless we wish to arrive very late at night and with exhausted horses. I most definitely do not wish to spend our wedding night travelling. I have reserved us rooms at the _ Inn in Newbury which is about halfway to Oaksley. I apologize for not consulting with you but I have made the trip often enough to know that this is the best choice."
"I have no objections, husband. None! I also would not wish to travel at night."
"The inn is extremely comfortable and I have obtained the best rooms for our use."
Elizabeth nodded her assent and nothing more was said on that subject. There is little to be gained by describing their travel to Newbury. The carriage was well sprung and pulled by four well-matched horses. Their security was ensured by the presence for two footmen in addition to the driver – all of whom were well-armed. Inside the carriage the newlywed couple had no shortage of conversation and, to her complete satisfaction, Elizabeth had her wish for her husband to kiss her granted more than a few times before they arrived in Newbury. In fact, she was appreciative of those few minutes they travelled through Newbury to rearrange her hair, bonnet and dress, so as to be able to greet their host at the inn with composure.
Through sleep-laden eyes he watched her as she left the bed and felt her way to the wash stand. The splash of water in the bowl alerted him to her activities and he gazed with a tinge of regret as she soaked a cloth and then wash her thighs and between them. He had expected there to be some blood but, in his own thoughtlessness, had not considered that she would want, would need, to be cleansed. After drying herself, she searched the floor until she found her nightgown which he had thrown aside during the night. She would need it as the fire was naught but embers and the room grown cool. Climbing back into the bed, she inched her way closer to his warm body, turning on her side with her back to his chest; feigning sleep, he draped an arm over her and gently pulled her closer. A sigh was her only response and they lay so for some minutes until he felt her leg spasm and then it seemed as though her whole body relaxed. Within minutes her breathing had taken on a regular soft chuffing sound and he was sure that she had fallen asleep. When he whispered her name, there was no response and he allowed himself to close his eyes. He was almost painfully aroused but it would not do to importune her again so soon. He wished to sleep, but could not, and his mind was caught by the memories he and she had created just scant hours before.
He had never bedded a virgin before that night and never expected to do so again. In this, their experience was equal. She was a maid, a virgin, and inexperienced in the pleasures of the marriage bed. He had resolved to be patient and even, should it prove necessary, to defer his own pleasure to ensure hers. In this he failed dismally. He had been told, with what veracity he could not know, that he was somewhat larger than most men and she had been so small . . . he feared her pain would be severe. He could only hope that she would not fear the intimacies of their marriage bed in the future.
Her soft "enter" when he knocked on her door spoke of her uncertainty. She was waiting for him, sitting on the edge of our bed, clothed in the most disturbing of nightgowns and he thought her calm until he saw how tight the clasp of her hands. He had been no less embarrassed and almost as nervous as she when he knocked on the door. Strangely, her very nervousness calmed him. They shared a glass of wine, sitting together on her bed. He drank very little, it had been offered for her, to ease and calm her. Her hair was braided into a sleeping braid but she undid it at his request and it fell to her waist and over her shoulders. "You shall always wear it thus when I come to your bed." He murmured, stroking it, letting it run through his fingers. She was enchanting, intoxicating; he ached for her at that moment - as much as he ached now. His thoughts wandered over all they shared that night and he feared to allow himself to dwell on those intimacies lest it overpower his restraint again. He could remember caressing her breasts with hands and lips; she had denied him nothing - there was not a part of her body he did not touch and taste.
His hand slid down her body and underneath the loose nightgown until he touched her soft core once more. His fingers stroked her several times and he desisted only when her hips began to move under his ministrations. He brought his hand back to his lips, smelled and tasted her essence.
Her pleasure, her passions had quite undone him and stirred him to greater efforts; and, while he desperately wished to claim her, to make her his wife in truth, he was able to forbear, but it took the utmost resolve. It was only when she demanded it of him that he weakened and found he could not deny what they both wanted. He was as slow and gentle as possible but could not but cause her pain when he finally entered her body. He kissed her tears, but she would have it no other way, would not allow him to do other than join with her. He knew she took little pleasure from their joining at first and he, after denying himself so long, was not able to withstand the delight of entering and possessing her so fully. He sensed she was but starting to take some pleasure when his own overcame his ability to control. He was totally undone. He murmured, "You gave me to believe that you were well satisfied. I hope so, my love; you will share my bed for the remainder of my days and, if I have failed to give you a full measure of pleasure tonight, I will not lack for opportunity or desire to remedy that deficiency."
He did not remain awake long afterwards. She remained asleep, her head coming to rest on his chest, her body pressed against him.
He must have dozed for some time as she had turned on her back when next he gazed at her. Her restless movements woke him. His lay his hand on her belly and could feel her breathing and the warmth of her body through her nightgown. He had no notion of the time but the room was very cool now and only the faintest embers were to be seen in the fireplace. He forced himself out of bed, the floor cold under his feet, and he moved to the fireplace with alacrity. A few thin pieces of wood, and blowing on the embers rekindled the flame and, as it spread, he placed several dry split logs on the nascent flame. By the time he had refreshed himself, wiped the traces of blood from his own body and crawled back into bed, the fire had caught and was beginning to cast off some heat.
Curled up beside Elizabeth, he collected her body to his own and began to stroke her lightly through her nightgown, his touches so soft as to ensure that she slept on. His hand teased the hardening peak on her breast, her breathing became a little shallower; he slowed his caress until she calmed once more and his thoughts wandered again.
He woke before her in the morning and felt such a desire as he had never experienced before. She did not expect his attentions, was almost embarrassed by them, the daylight and the faint sounds of the Inn waking, appeared to discomfit her but he persisted and would not be denied; he was sure that she would respond. The woman who lay in his arms last night could do no other. His attentions were no less than the night before and it was some time before he moved to join with her, to encase himself in her warmth and feel her moving with him. If there was some small pain, it did not seem to last and her pleasure, her petite mort, was beautiful to behold, calling forth his own.
As he they lay together afterwards, he murmured in her ear, "I have never known such joy with a woman and knew not that it was even possible. I am the most fortunate of men."
The happy couple departed the _ Inn somewhat late that morning and those who saw them as they made their way to the carriage, could have little doubt of their happiness as their exuberance could not be masked. The second day of travel went much as the first except now there was an additional degree of freedom and intimacy between them. Their exertions of the night before had left them both more than a little in want of sleep and it was no surprise to Waring when Elizabeth, after a half hour, drifted quietly off to sleep.
For his part thoughts of the past and future would intrude. He would not pretend to inexperience; although no Lothario, he had had some interludes with women. His honour would not allow him to seduce a maiden, nor would he consort with married women. His few "adventures," for want of a better term, had involved widows with a reasonable independence and no desire for the married state. His heart had not been touched since he was a young man of four and twenty and even then, the loss of the lady's interest – a young lordling had come courting and she was smitten and engaged to marry within a month – had not materially damaged his heart. He had never loved until he met a young woman laughing at her uncle beside the Ingleburn. That he had won her hand in marriage and her body for his bed was such as to make him sometimes fear it had been a dream. And yet. Here she was, his wife, travelling beside him with their wedding night behind them and every expectation of a happy future. With such musings he dozed and it was with no little surpise that he found that he had also fallen asleep only to be wakened when the carriage made its first stop to change horses.
Their trip passed as such journeys do with conversation, some intimacies and the occasional nap. As they finally drew up in front of Oaksley Manor, Elizabeth turned to her husband and made a simple vow, "You will have no regrets in marrying me, husband."
August, 1814 - Derwydd Hall, Shropshire
Darcy had been at Derwydd Hall about a month when one morning, at the breakfast table, Mr. Goodwell waved a sheet of paper at his wife and exclaimed, "Ah, this is just the thing! A ball!"
His wife glanced at him, "A ball, Henry? When? Where? Who is holding it?"
"Patience, my love. Patience!" he read the note once more. "We are invited to a private ball, to be held in the Assembly Rooms in Oswestry, Friday next."
"Who is hosting it?"
"The Mandells. You recall them, I am sure. It seems their son has just become engaged and they wish to celebrate the event."
"Less than a fortnight from now!" Mrs. Goodwell looked at Darcy. "Were not you and your sister to depart that day?"
Darcy looked over at Georgiana before responding, "For my part, I see no reason that we could not put off our departure for a few days, if you are able to host us. Georgiana?"
Georgiana nodded, "I am quite at liberty although…." She paused for several moments, "…although I am not sure I brought anything suitable for such an occasion."
Mrs. Goodwell was quick to assure her that Oswestry had one or two capable seamstresses; however, before she could comment further, Darcy offered to send a carriage with her maid to Pemberley to retrieve any gowns Georgiana might desire and this, meeting with her approval, was done and so it was that they were to stay until the Monday following the ball.
The days leading up to the ball proceeded much as they had been doing. The gentlemen rode, shot, fished and undertook other such activities as were customary for their sex, while the women were as happily engaged in less strenuous activities. A number of outings were arranged, some under the guidance of Mr. Farrell, which could be enjoyed by them all. Fortunately, the weather proved cooperative and days replete with sun and warmth were much in evidence.
Several times Darcy, whilst out riding, either alone or with Georgiana, encountered Miss Farrell walking and, if Darcy had thought more on the matter, it might have occurred to him that the time and direction of his activities had been orchestrated, either by his own or his sister's inclinations, so as to make such encounters possible. Nevertheless, such thoughts did not arise and he – and Georgiana – invariably joined Miss Farrell as she rambled. When Darcy walked with her alone, he made a determined effort to engage her in conversation. This proved, more than once, to require exertion on his part, for he found the lady to be coolly polite and somewhat reluctant to talk with him as freely as she did with his sister. Nevertheless, he persisted and usually was able to engage her interest and conversation when talking of plays and books in particular. On one such encounter, Miss Farrell seemed less reticent and began to ask him about his estate, a subject on which he was never reluctant to expound. Her questions showed both an interest in and some knowledge of the workings of an estate, which could only encourage him to speak more freely on the subject. Knowing her interests, he spoke more of the grounds, gardens and walking trails and also of the tenants and their families. When they parted, he had rarely felt so pleased with a young woman's company.
The day of the ball was soon upon them. They entered the Assembly Room to be greeted by their hosts and the engaged couple. Darcy and Georgiana moved smoothly through the introductions, extended their congratulations to the obviously happy couple and strolled deeper into the room. Darcy had already secured the first four sets with the ladies of his party and was quite at leisure since dancing was not to start for a full half hour. Georgiana had spotted Miss Farrell and left his side to speak with her. Two or three gentlemen that he had met at the Carrington's dinner beckoned him over and he, more quickly than he had expected, found himself conversing about their estate concerns which, in truth, were not much different than those he faced regularly.
When the musicians began to warm up their instruments, he sought out Georgiana in order to lead her onto the floor. He found her talking quietly with Miss Farrell and, taking the opportunity, spoke to Miss Farrell.
"May I have the pleasure of dancing a set tonight with you, Miss Farrell?"
His request had obviously caught her by surprise and her response reflected as much, "Why…I had not…Yes, of course, Mr. Darcy." She collected herself further and asked archly, "Do you have a preference, sir?"
He smiled, "The supper set, if it is not already spoken for."
Again she appeared surprised, "Yes…No, it is not spoken for."
"Then I shall be pleased to dance it with you."
He bowed to her and claimed his sister's hand, saying, "I believe they are ready for us now, Georgie."
Georgiana smiled at her friend and allowed him to lead her to the floor. Their dance was quiet, neither of them of a disposition towards idle chatter. Darcy was content that it should be so and spent much of the dance watching Miss Farrell being lead through the patterns by her partner. He danced three more sets with the ladies of his party before allowing himself a respite. Taking up a position by a window, he watched the dancers with one lady prominent in his ruminations. Her figure was womanly and she moved easily and lightly and, if not all of her partners were equally capable in the dance, she gave no sign of displeasure or discomfort, talking easily as she stepped through the figures of the dance.
Finally, it was time to claim her hand for the supper set and, as they began, his thoughts, which hitherto had seemingly of their own volition focused on the dance he shared with Elizabeth Bennet almost three years in the past, returned to the young woman with whom he was about to dance. They had not danced but a few minutes when he became aware that Miss Farrell and he had danced in silence; conversation, which Miss Farrell had bestowed so easily on her previous partners, was absent. He recalled their previous meetings and wondered at her silence since she had spoken freely with him when they last walked together.
As they neared the end of the first dance, he was moved to remark, "I believe we must have some conversation, Miss Farrell."
She looked a trifle surprised but replied, "And on what would you have us speak, Mr. Darcy?"
"As a gentleman, I believe I should leave the choice to you. I would be agreeable to almost anything."
"Shall I comment then on the weather? Or on how nice this ball is?"
Darcy was silent. Her tone, her very expression was withdrawn. Civil she was, but nothing more. With others he had seen her laugh and charm; with him it appeared that she only tolerated his company. He was puzzled. Had he somehow earned her disapprobation? He could think of nothing that would account for such a reaction on her part. Finally, when the pattern of the dance brought them close again he ventured to speak after looking around to ensure that no one could overhear.
"Miss Farrell, have I somehow offended you?"
She looked at him, her mien reflecting the surprise she undoubtedly felt. Her voice, when she at least replied, remained cool.
"I hardly believe you need concern yourself, Mr. Darcy. I can assure you that nothing you have said to me has offended any sensibility of mine"
Darcy was pleased at this assurance although it did not account for her behaviour but this was neither the time or place to explore the matter further. He made several more attempts to engage her in conversation but with only limited success and he wondered at the wisdom of sitting with her through supper. As it was, his thoughts took a turn for the worse when, after the dance was completed and he was going to lead her to the supper tables, she made no move to take his proffered arm, saying instead, "I appreciate that you may not wish for my company at supper, Mr. Darcy. I will not hold you to any obligation to sit with me."
Darcy could not hide his surprise, "Miss Farrell, I believe you mistake the matter altogether. I requested the supper set so that I might sit with you. It would, I assure you, be a pleasure for me; however, if the thought makes you uncomfortable, I will relinquish that pleasure."
Miss Farrell was obviously discomposed at his response, "No…I am…I mean that I would be pleased to sit with you, sir."
Again offering her his arm, they strolled towards the supper tables and, finding two seats, in the company of the Goodwells, Darcy seated his partner and left in search of a plate of food for them both. When he returned some minutes later, it was to find her in quiet conversation with the Goodwells and Georgiana. It was a setting, he knew, where private conversation was not possible, and so set himself the task of being agreeable to those around him. In this he was so successful as to merit several perplexed glances from Miss Farrell and amused ones from his sister. As they were all conversing, they were approached by Mrs. Mandell asking Georgiana and Miss Farrell to perform for them, a request agreed to readily by Georgiana but only with some reluctance by Miss Farrell.
"If my vanity," said she, "had taken a musical turn, I might greet this request with pleasure but, as it is, I would really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of hearing the very best performers."
Darcy was not prepared to allow her to denigrate her talents, "Miss Farrell, it would give me and others, I assure you, great pleasure to hear you perform."
She looked at him rather dubiously before agreeing to Mrs. Mandell's request, "I beg of you not to expect too much. My accomplishments are, unfortunately, limited."
Darcy gave a bark of laughter which caused a uniform rising of eyebrows amongst those around him. Miss Farrell appeared to think it a reaction to her disclaimer. And was about to respond when Darcy interjected.
"I must ask your pardon. I was not, you may be sure, responding to your comment, Miss Farrell."
"Might we then share the jest, Darcy?" asked Mr. Goodwell.
"To be sure." He replied, "I was, in fact, thinking of the words of a young lady of my acquaintance who professed an opinion as to the proper accomplishments of a young lady of the highest station. Let me try and remember them." He paused for a moment or two and then continued, "A young lady to be called properly accomplished must, she said, have a thorough knowledge of music, dancing, drawing and the modern languages. And, in addition, must possess a certain something in her air and her manner of walking, her address, her expressions and so on." He began to laugh once more, "She obviously had gone to a seminary where these accomplishments were taught and could see no further."
He smiled at his sister, "I remember saying that I knew, at most, a half dozen such women which the young lady agreed with strongly." He chuckled once more, "However, when another young woman questioned whether I could know any with such attributes, Miss Bi… the first young woman claimed to know many who answered the description. She is, unfortunately, all too common amongst society."
"And what do you consider to be an accomplished woman, Mr. Darcy?" asked Miss Farrell.
Darcy turned thoughtful, "I would, I suppose, agree that a woman should possess some of these qualities; however, I would not consider any such woman accomplished unless she possessed intelligence, a willingness to expand her knowledge of the world by reading and a basic kindness to others. One who would treat a queen and a maid with equal civility and kindness."
The short silence that followed this statement was broken by Mrs. Goodwell who asked Georgiana and Miss Farrell which pieces of music they were to perform and shortly thereafter the entertainment began which perforce had to be attended to by all at the sacrifice of further conversation.
Dancing continued after the entertainment had concluded and Darcy chose to stand and observe for the remainder of the evening. If his attention was focused primarily upon Miss Farrell, it did not appear to be noticed by anyone. The journey back to Derwydd was quiet as fatigue had claimed all of the party.
Darcy's intentions, or perhaps interest is the more appropriate word, had quite escaped everyone's perception other than Georgiana who, upon discerning it, had chosen to conceal her awareness, not really expecting her brother to forward such an interest. She quite liked Miss Farrell, valuing her intelligence and conversation and had only to regret that the difference in their respective circumstances seemed to preclude a closer and more frequent acquaintance. A correspondence had been agreed upon but Miss Farrell's situation in life was not conducive to travel and visits to Town. Miss Farrell was, she believed, one of the very few women of her acquaintance whose primary interest in her was not to achieve a closer association with her brother. It might be said that the lady's reluctance, or lack of interest, did not reduce her merits in Darcy's considerations.
However, their time at Derwydd Hall was coming to an end and to Pemberley they were to return.
Late-August, 1814 – Somewhere in Scotland
_, Scotland
August 24, 1814
Dearest Jane,
Please forgive my tardiness in writing you. I cannot claim a lack of opportunity, for such is not the case. Please attribute it to a mind, too cluttered with the diversions of a trip, to wish to spend precious hours on anything other than the pleasure of a husband's company and the enjoyments that are to be experienced as we travel to places I have never before experienced. As you already know, we tarried but a week at Oaksley before venturing forth on our wedding trip. It was an indescribable feeling to take up residence there as its Mistress. I shall, I am sure, grow accustomed to the feeling eventually.
I will not bore you with an endless description of what we have seen. For that, you must be patient and await my return. I assure you that I have looked upon, and admired, such a variety of prospects, buildings, sites of great historic interest and rocks and glades and hills to satisfy even my most heartfelt wishes. I have quite used up two journals recording all that we have encountered. I could wish that I had learned to draw, for that is truly the only way to capture some of the lovely sites we visited and handsome homes we toured. Words can do little justice unless one is a Wordsworth or Cowper. I freely acknowledge how far short I fall in such endeavours.
This trip has proven to be quite different from those I have enjoyed with our aunt and uncle. Anthony is much more inclined to visit sites of historic interest than grand estates and manor house. I dare say he could have stayed in Edinburgh Castle for several more days, if time had permitted. We toured the castle and I fear our guide was embarrassed on one or two occasions when my dear husband gently corrected an error or embellished the account. I am quite determined to expand my own readings of this period of time. If my husband is to be believed, the Scots are a very fractious people. When I mentioned that I wondered at the English desire to add them to our kingdom, my husband laughingly agreed. Apparently they were as much in discord amongst themselves as they were with the English.
I will not, as I said, talk of all the sites we visited although a few stand out. Hadrian's Wall, which runs a distance of more than seventy miles, was constructed only a hundred years or so after the birth of our Lord. I cannot fully comprehend the dedication to constructing such an edifice. Anthony tells me that the Great North Road that we traveled to reach Scotland was, over much of its distance, originally constructed by the Romans to enable their armies to repel the barbarians from Scotland who delighted in invading England to pillage and loot. I suspect, from my husband's demeanour, that they did not limit themselves to such activities, but he would not be persuaded to speak on the matter further. You, my dear Jane, would be, I know, content to leave it thus; but I would know it all. I shall have to explore my husband's library more thoroughly.
I believe I heard more about William Wallace, Robert the Bruce and other Scottish leaders to last a lifetime! However, it was perhaps not until we came upon the vale of Glencoe that the ferocity of the hatreds between the English and Scots was fully bourn upon me. I cannot reconcile the beauty of the spot, nestled amongst the most beautiful and intimidating mountains, with the terrible massacre that took place there over a hundred years ago. That we, the English, could have ordered the slaughter of so many innocents – women and children – almost makes me weep. I could never return to Glencoe. Its beauty is lost to me.
Please forgive me. I had not meant to digress in such a mournful manner. I will, I hope, bring you such amusement, over the rest of this letter, to quite banish such dismal thoughts as I have roused. For as much as my husband enjoys history, he, in equal measure, finds great pleasure in fishing. I am convinced that activity would have by itself made him wish to travel to Scotland where, he assures me, is to be found the best salmon fishing in the kingdom. I remember teasing him, when the possibility of a trip hither was first mentioned, that he was more interested in fishing than in his wife's pleasure. After some persuasion, which I will concede I quite enjoyed, I was convinced to accede to his plans. I, in my most impertinent manner, made my agreement dependent upon my husband teaching me to fish – for you know our uncle would never consent to doing so despite my pleas to learn to fish. I quite forgot that I had extracted such a promise from Anthony; he, however, remembered, and it was with considerable surprise that I was, several days ago, reminded of my impertinence.
We had taken a short lease on a cottage near the River Tay some miles north and west of Perth. The day after we settled there, my good husband escorted me outdoors to the small paddock behind the cottage. There he placed in my hands a fishing rod. I had ofttimes seen my uncle's 'tackle' – as I have heard it referred to – but this rod seemed smaller than I expected. Anthony assured me that I would be more easily able to use the rod he had given me – which was intended for a young lad - than his own; and, in truth, he was quite correct. I did attempt to use his rod but it was longer and much heavier than my own and, after a few turns, I was quite exhausted. I sorely regretted my teasing of him to allow me the use of his rod. I said nothing further about using a boy's rod. We spent a most enjoyable hour with him instructing me in the art of casting. I suspect that his enjoyment derived mainly from his pleasure in wrapping his arms around me in order that I learn how to handle the rod and I do believe I received more instruction as a result. There! I am sure I have raised a healthy blush on my sister's cheek.
If I have done so then I fear what I am about to relate will quite render you speechless and absolutely scarlet. You see, as my husband informed me the following day, my skirts were quite inappropriate garments if one wished to fish the pools where the salmon were to be found; and, he assured me, we would have to walk over some difficult grounds and on paths where skirts would be a hindrance. Imagine my surprise and mortification when he presented me with his solution – a pair of breeches or 'breeks', as they are called here in Scotland. I was, it seems, to wear them under my skirts when we walked out and to divest myself of the skirts in the carriage upon our arrival into the country and to walk about in just my breeks. You can well imagine my reluctance and it was only Anthony's assurance that we would be quite alone throughout the whole adventure that allowed me to agree to his proposal.
It is well that I heeded my husband, as the paths were truly overgrown with brambles and bushes. My skirts would most likely have been torn to shreds. I found that I quite enjoyed the outing; not perhaps to the same degree as my husband, but it is one that I did repeat on two more occasions. I even managed to catch a salmon, to the delight of my husband and myself. It seemed to me to be a fierce battle as the beast took the fly on the end of my line – and promptly attempted to relieve me of my rod and position on the shore. I feared for a scant second or two that I would be pulled into the pool, so surprised was I at his actions. Fortunately, I was able to retain my footing and was blessed in that the beast did not remove all the line from my wheel before running out of room and speeding to the other end of the pool. My dear husband was shouting at me loudly – Turn the wheel! Turn the wheel! – it took me a second or two to grasp his meaning. He wanted me to turn the wheel and retrieve all the line that the fish had drawn out. It was a hasty business, and I can vouch for the fact that the salmon's intelligence must have been of the lowest possible order not to escape my clutches. I was the veriest idiot at the end of the rod. However, after some five minutes or more, I was able to draw him in. A fine beast, he was. All of two pounds and I had the full measure of him that evening at the dining table. My dear husband also had some success, catching three more fish, two of which were much larger than mine. He was most pleased with our day's adventure and I suspect no small part of his pleasure arose from walking behind me. He seemed to take a greater pleasure than is normal when we are out walking. I wonder why? I am shameless, am I not?
It will shock you I know but I was becoming quite comfortable wearing the breeches and enjoying the freedom. Men are to be envied in this regard. At any rate, just before we were to depart, I took it upon myself, without any assistance from my husband, to change the location from which I was fishing. I espied a lovely rock from which to cast and was happily making my way thither, jumping as carefree as you could imagine, from one rock to another. I had successfully gained my objective when I lost my balance and fell head first into the pool! To my relief, it proved to be shallow at that spot; I was only subject to a great soaking and the reproaches of a very worried husband. However, once seeing me safely standing in water to my waist, he was quite mirthful and asked about the size of the fish that had dragged me in. I am glad one of us got some pleasure from the event – although my retribution later that day was quite satisfactory to us both. You are familiar perhaps with the practise of some society women to wet down their muslin dresses and why they would do so. I can inform you that it is extremely effective. I take comfort that we encountered no one on our return as my appearance was quite shameless. Anthony did not appear to object in the slightest.
It is with no little reluctance that I view our departure tomorrow. While I have no cause to repine my husband's company at Oaksley, we always appear to have many people around us. These past weeks, despite the presence of my maid and Anthony's valet, we were left very much alone and it has drawn us closer. I cannot say I have known a finer man than Anthony, and my respect and esteem for him grows with each day that passes. I can attest to the charms of a blazing fire in the fireplace with my husband beside me reading the poetry of Robert Burns. I particularly favour 'A Red, Red Rose'. I will say no more but do recommend the activity for the enjoyment of you and James. I would be happy to welcome another niece or nephew!
I have hopes that you, James and the babe will be able to visit us in October which month, Anthony assures me, can show Wiltshire to great advantage. You must allow me to return all the hospitality that you gave me before my marriage and I will hold you to your promise of a month's visit. I will quite depend upon it. However else will I be able to tell all that I have seen on this trip?
Your loving sister,
Elizabeth W.
Mrs. Campbell entered the room and coughed to capture Elizabeth's attention. "Mrs. Waring, the laird is here."
The Laird, Ian McAllister, was the principal landowner in the area and the one who had granted permission for them to fish on his lands.
"Very well, Mrs. Campbell. My husband is out at the stables checking on our carriage. Will you please have someone inform him of the Laird's presence?"
Mrs. Campbell nodded and then showed the Laird into the small parlour. He and Elizabeth made polite conversation for several minutes until Waring entered the room. Mr. McAllister rose to greet him.
"I was in the area and thought to call, to wish you well on your trip home. I know you plan to leave early in the morning. The day looks to be fine and you should have an easy trip. Where do you plan to stop?"
"We thought to stop at Perth for a day before continuing."
This met with the Laird's approval and several spots were suggested for them to visit while there. As he was about to take his leave, he turned to Elizabeth, and she thought she detected a twinkle in his eye. "I have heard the most…interesting rumour, Mrs. Waring, which, I assure you, I most definitely stated to be false."
"Rumour, sir?"
"Yes, indeed. It appears that someone believes that you were fishing with your husband. I know that the rumour must be false as it was claimed you were wearing breeks. Quite impossible, is it not Mr. Waring?"
Her husband laughed, "Quite impossible! What can the person have been thinking? A woman in breeches? Never!"
The Laird began to laugh as he tried to ignore Elizabeth's flushed face and waved his good-byes as he took his departure.
Elizabeth murmured, "I wonder if I dare ever return here!" as she watched him walk down the path to his horse.
Waring came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. "I think we may return whenever we wish, my dear. Whenever we wish!"