Chapter 33
Near Southend-on-sea
The time allotted for their wedding trips was coming to an end. Tomorrow they must leave for Pemberley and, as delightful as that prospect was, when the carriage transported them away from the cottage here in Southend, neither Darcy nor Elizabeth would leave without regret or without their eyes lingering on the place where they had begun forging a marriage. And yet, leave they must. Jane and her husband, and Georgiana and hers, had all left a week ago for Pemberley accompanied by their own children, Darcy's and Elizabeth's, and a host of nursemaids. It had taken a veritable caravan of carriages to accommodate the host of bodies; however, they should all be there by now and awaiting the arrival of Darcy and Elizabeth. It had been a last minute change in plans and one that Elizabeth and Darcy had suggested as neans of shortening the legth they would have travel after leaving Southend. Neither of them had ever been separated from their children for such a prolonged period and both were anticipating the reunion.
Elizabeth and Darcy believed they knew what to expect of the marital bed, having been married before. To say they had both enjoyed relations with their first spouses was an understatement – they found them to be extremely pleasurable and not infrequently exciting. So they had been very much looking forward to their future felicity in that area upon their remarriage. Very much.
The almost frantic coupling that characterized their first few days had eventually moderated, although only slightly; it rarely took more than the most casual caress for one or the other of them to press for even greater intimacy. And yet, it was impossible to spend the whole of their sojourn in Southend in their bed, delightful as that might seem, for the area surrounding the cottage had its own share of delights to be savoured. So leave their bed they did, but when they did the propriety of manners enforced by society when in public seemed to enhance the times when the doors of their bed chamber closed behind them and propriety and their clothing were discarded with equal haste.
They explored the roads and trails in the area on foot and on horseback with no small interest, for the area was new to them both. Darcy's sojourns there were but a distant memory. Several days they rode for hours, sometimes not returning until the sun was near setting. One day they had ventured as far as Chelmsford, stayed overnight at an inn, not returning until late the next day. Another day they ventured into Southend, to browse the shops, to stop to lunch at one of the many inns and to shop for presents for their children. They had only rarely met any of their acquaintance until the evening they chose to attend a play at the local theatre when they were approached by several couples with whom either Elizabeth or Darcy had a small acquaintance. Their marriage had clearly been a surprise to everyone. Felicitations were expressed and most seemed sincere. Invitations to call on them, or to dine, were politely extended and declined in a similar manner. Neither Elizabeth nor Darcy felt any desire for company other than that of their spouse and those they met appeared to accept their preoccupation with each other, albeit with amused looks in some instances and a sense of bemusement, in others. No one felt compelled to call on them, apparently respecting the desire for privacy of the newlyweds, and for such neglect, they were content.
And now tonight was to be the last night of their removal from the press of their daily life that awaited them. Their family's presence, as enjoyable as it would be, would limit the intimacies they would be able to share. And what they had shared. . .was beyond what either had anticipated. Elizabeth had never been importuned so frequently – Anthony had certainly attended to her with vigour but usually no more often than nightly and sometimes in the morning when they slept together. She smiled at her use of the word importuned. That word seemed so very inadequate; there was nothing inadequate about William's attentions or the frequency of them. No…importune was clearly insufficient. Delightful was not the right word either. What was the matter with her? She simply could not describe how Darcy made her feel. All she could be sure of was that she did not wish it to end.
Darcy, meanwhile, was quite astonished at himself. He was not an inexperienced man. Before marrying Judith, he had taken advantage of the opportunities that presented themselves. And he certainly did his duty with Judith. He recalled how surprised she had been to realize that marital relations were not limited to occasional visits at night. But despite how often he did his husbandly duty, and he admitted to himself that it was not a duty and that he did it as often as possible, he had no idea of his actual capability as a husband until now.
Here he was, a man of six and thirty years, suddenly with the virility of a 20 year old. He could not get enough of Elizabeth; not an hour after removing himself from her, his desire could ignite again. Never one to waste an opportunity, he engaged her each time. Not that she minded.
As he closed his eyes in an attempt to get much needed sleep, Darcy felt his wife stroke his back seductively. He sprang to life at her touch and smiled ruefully as he pulled Elizabeth on top of him. Ah well, as they say, there is no rest for the weary. Or was it the wicked? Either way it appeared she wished to have her way with him once again – and a gentleman should never disappoint a lady – it would be. . .ungentlemanly, would it not?
"I will be sorry to leave, William. Very sorry. This has been. . .I do not know when I have been happier." She clasped him firmly with her arms and legs to prevent him leaving and they rested quietly for some moments, silent, hands touching and fondling.
He smiled. "It was the right decision to come here, then?"
"You know it was! Seeking compliments, William? I thought better of you." She smirked at him.
"I am a mere man, my love." He stretched. "I suppose we should get ready to leave."
She was not yet ready to do so and, as she inspected her husband, she suddenly felt an overwhelming desire for him to love her once more. He, however, did not appear quite ready to assist her but that, she thought, she could do something about. Her hand wandered down his body and grasped him. Her lips followed.
"And what are you about, Mrs. Darcy?" He murmured lazily. He rather doubted that she could prove successful but was not about to gainsay her efforts. She paused in her endeavours.
"I was told that a gentleman should rise when a lady approaches. I am a lady and you, sir, appear to require some assistance in. . .rising."
"I have grave doubts as to your success, Mrs. Darcy."
"I do not, sir. I believe I can discover some. . .reserves you were quite unaware of."
She resumed her attentions and much sooner than he had expected, he was ready to satisfy her wishes. Very soon, and with great reluctance, however, they removed themselves from their bed. Neither wished to leave, and having been bathed, fed and clothed, almost two hours had passed before they finally entered their carriage to depart. As they drove away, Elizabeth took a lingering look at their cottage.
"I know we have spoken of returning but I would like us to spend a month here every summer. Our children will adore the place and Jane's family could easily visit us, as well as the Harts and your cousins and their families."
Darcy smiled, "You know I will agree to any scheme of yours, Mrs. Darcy. I would point out that the cottage has only six bedchambers. We could have more than one child in each room but Jane and James, for instance, will require a room of their own."
"Is there any reason the cottage could not be extended or have a wing added on?"
He shook his head, "None."
Her eyebrows rose and she waited patiently.
His response was enthusiastic, "I will have an architect visit the place and provide us with plans. I suspect if we are to expand the cottage, we should look to some other improvements as well."
She wrinkled her nose, "The kitchens could certainly be improved and we will require more servant quarters as well."
"And" he murmured in her ear, "I wish to have the stables enlarged – and perhaps the main rooms as well – and a large bath added to our dressing room."
She leaned away from him, "You speak so enthusiastically of this large bath, sir, that I can barely wait until we arrive at Pemberley to determine if it is as efficacious as you claim."
"I can assure you, madam, that you will indeed 'bare' it and I shall be quite willing, nay eager, to prove my claims."
Elizabeth smiled at his teasing and snuggled closer in the circle of his arms. His hands, which had been taking some small liberties with her person, gradually became less arousing and she was not sorry for it. She was satiated and pleasantly tired and wanted nothing more now than to rest. The carriage, as fine as it was, was not really conducive to sleeping comfortably but it was better to get as much sleep as one could now, before the accumulated aches and discomfort that naturally arose as the trip progressed made sleep more difficult. She began considering the changes to the cottage that might be desirable and before a quarter hour had passed, Darcy could hear the soft snuffling sound she frequently made while asleep. He smiled and relaxed into slumber himself. It was a long way to Pemberley.
Derbyshire
They had entered Derbyshire less than an hour ago. They took the opportuntiy when it became necessary to change horses at a posting station, to refresh themselves , stretch their legs and sample the small basket of edibles prepared for them at the inn where they had spent the night. While they fully expected to arrive at Pemberley by mid-afternoon, they had not tarried in bed, for, as had been quickly obvious the night before, the walls of the inn were lamentably thin. The sounds emanating from the room next to theirs were sufficient to allow for a full understanding of what was transpiring therein, and for a desire to avoid making such a spectacle of themselves.
"We are not the quietest of couples when so engaged, Elizabeth." He whispered.
"I suggest, William, that if you are not to pursue the course your hands are setting, they should cease their efforts, else I shall not be held accountable for my actions."
"Ah, you misunderstood the situation, my dear. It is not my hands that shall be stopped but our lips."
And, capturing her lips with his, and holding them prisoner, he loved her thoroughly until they both had found a shuddering - and quiet - satisfaction. Unfortunately, while their cries of enjoyment were appropriately muffled, the bed provided, unbeknownst to them until they were fully engaged and wholly disinclined to cease their endeavours - its own accompaniment, to their mortification. Thus, while the temptation to linger and enjoy a morning romp, as was their usual wont, had been great, they rose as planned and departed on schedule.
Once they resumed their travel, the proximity to Pemberley and the delightful prospect of rejoining their family and children would not allow for slumber. The scenery was not new to Darcy, but the pleasure of viewing it with Elizabeth was; in addition, there was the enjoyment of describing much of the history or his experiences with what they observed. They were about three hours away from Pemberley when they passed through a small village. It was not a place Darcy could recollect visiting, nor was it a usual stopping spot for he rather thought he had passed through it on countless occasions travelling to and from Pemberley. Nonetheless, it triggered a fleeting sense of recognition or significance, the substance of which eluded him and then, when Elizabeth distracted him with a question, he forgot about it, although his mind continued to worry the matter without any satisfactory resolution.
As they neared Lambton, Elizabeth grew increasingly sombre and Darcy watched as she appeared to withdraw into memories which disturbed her. He finally inquired into her thoughts and, after a few seconds, she answered him.
"I am sorry. I did not mean to worry you. It is just. . .that I had such a vivid memory of driving away from Lambton after receiving Jane's letters and learning what Lydia had done. My aunt and uncle wished to believe that all would be well, that Wickham could not be so bad as to ruin such a young girl. I knew better and. . ."
"And?
"My thoughts were mostly of Lydia and the harm she had done our family, but also a regret that I would never have a chance to amend my misjudgement of you. I did not love you but I had come to understand that you were a better man than I had credited."
They had turned to pass by the lodge that marked the entrance to Pemberley.
"I remember that lodge. I asked Aunt Gardiner how big the park was and could hardly believe it when she said it was ten miles around."
"Are all memories of Pemberley blotted out by your sister's actions?"
Elizabeth shook her head, "Not at all and now that we are traversing the road they are surfacing again. There is a point on the road, is there not, where Pemberley House is magnificently displayed?"
"Indeed there is. We shall stop there for I never return home without refreshing my memory of how beautiful it is and how fortunate I am to have inherited it."
"I had never seen a place so well situated, where man's work and nature had been blended together so effectively."
A burst of laughter escaped her. "I remember saying to my aunt that to be Mistress of Pemberley would be something indeed."
"And now you are!"
"And now I am, indeed."
"Do you remember much from your tour of the house and grounds? I remember you mentioning Mrs. Reynolds but your remembrances of Pemberley is a subject that we somehow failed to canvas."
"Perhaps because they were, for many years, overcast with the unpleasantness that caused our trip to end. I am, as I am sure I have reminded you, inclined to remember those parts of the past that afford me pleasure. In this case, however, I found it difficult to separate Pemberley from Lydia's ruin. But," and her voice firmed, "that shall be the case no more. We shall make new and better memories. I am resolved."
He chuckled and kissed her forehead, "And I know all too well how strong your resolve is, Elizabeth. You will find Pemberley delightful."
"Your housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, showed us the house. I was very impressed with the rooms and furnishings." She glanced at him ruefully, "While your letter cleared you of mistreating Wickham and I had concluded you were not altogether responsible for my sister's unhappiness, I still believed you to be a proud, disagreeable man. As a consequence, I anticipated that Pemberley would be much like Rosings Park which I thought ostentatious and gaudily ornate. I was most pleasantly surprised to learn otherwise and I suppose that was a small step to reforming your character in my eyes. You could not be as prideful as your aunt for your house was most excellently outfitted."
"I have always disliked Rosings Park for the very reasons you gave and my aunt never liked Pemberley except for its wealth and consequence. She would have redecorated the house to her standards of what was appropriate for someone of my station, were she in a position to do so." He snorted, "And she was not reluctant to proffer advice as to how I might improve it."
"I can well believe it. She was the acknowledged expert on all matters within her purview."
"So the fact that Pemberley was suitably furnished improved your opinion of me? Did anything else? The size of the library perhaps?"
"Unfortunately, the library could do little to rehabilitate you, my love, as Mrs. Reynolds did not include it in the tour. In truth, it was Mrs. Reynolds who was your champion."
"Mrs. Reynolds? How so?"
"She gave you a most flaming reference, sir. She. . ."
He slapped a hand on his thigh, "Ha! I knew there was a reason I paid her such an excellent wage. Here I had been thinking it was because of her excellent work at managing the house when instead it was her ability to praise and laud my character."
Elizabeth chuckled, "It was honestly done, William, and her affection and respect for you was very evident. And," she added, "what commendation is more to be valued than that of a respectable and intelligent servant. I often thought of Mrs. Reynolds when I came to Oaksley and was pleased that the housekeeper there, Mrs. Turner, was one who I could respect. We became quite close."
"Dare I ask what Mrs. Reynolds said of me?"
"Conceited man!" She cried, "I shall not inflate your pride further. It is already more than I wish to handle."
"Ah, my. . .pride is too much for you, is it?"
"Not yet, sir! Not yet! I take great pleasure from. . .reducing it."
Without their realizing it, the carriage had rolled to a stop at top of a ridge which overlooked the valley below. Their eyes were immediately caught by Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of the valley And they debarked from the carriage to stand and admire it. He encircled her with his arms as they aged silently on the scene below. However, it was soon apparent that their carriage had been seen, for people were spilling out from the house, rushing hither and yon, and a few were beginning to gather in front of the entrance.
"Do you approve, Mrs. Darcy?" He inquired, smiling at her.
"It is lovely." Elizabeth said as she viewed the house and then she added, in something of an afterthought, "It is exactly as I remember it. Elegant, understated. . .yet so very beautiful. Such a complement to the natural surroundings."
She looked at the gathering assemblage and murmured, "We are expected."
"And we must not delay, Elizabeth, else our children may attempt to run to us."
"I believe I see our sisters and their husbands. We must not tarry."
Elizabeth chuckled as they returned to the carriage. When Darcy inquired as to the cause she was quick to explain.
"I just remembered my first visit." She replied, "I was extremely reluctant to come and only did so when assured that you and your party were not to arrive until the following day."
Suddenly that niggling memory that had bothered him came flooding back in total.
"I was to arrive the next day?" He inquired.
"Yes. So we were informed by Mrs. Reynolds." Her tone was uncertain for his face had paled noticeably. "Whatever is the matter?"
"I was here that day." He said quietly, a look of pain passed fleetingly over his countenance. "I remember it quite clearly actually. Although I was supposed to arrive the next day, business called me back early. I expected to be at Pemberley many hours before the time that I actually got there. My horse had lost a nail and subsequently cast its shoe which delayed my arrival, and I did not get back until that night. Mrs. Reynolds told me about house visitors who visited that day . . .a couple and a young lady who had enquired after me. But I was tired and she could not recall the names. . .and then. . .well. . .events led us down different paths." Darcy looked out the window. "I returned late, too late." He whispered, "For want of a nail. . ."
Elizabeth leaned across and stroked his arm, recalling him to their current joys.
"We are not too late, Mr Darcy. Providence simply had its own plans for us."
"How right you are, my love," and he drew her towards him again.