Darcy smiled. “Hardly. Ah, here we are.” The carriage halted in front of an especially enormous building, one of several encompassing an immense courtyard. The noise of hammers, saws, and other tools Lizzy had no name for accompanied the boisterous voices with occasional cursing intermingled of a multitude of men. A sign with scrolling words declared the establishment as Tillbury's Fine Coaches. “Stay here Elizabeth,” he said, and without another word he leapt out of the landau and strode rapidly across the yard to a door designated “Office.”
Roughly ten minutes later, he emerged in the company of two men, one of whom indicated a certain building, as Darcy nodded. He crossed to the landau, leaning in to Lizzy. “Dearest, there is something you must see. I beg your indulgence. This is a working facility and the men are, well, rough. I apologize beforehand for any unpleasantness, but it is necessary. Do you trust me?”
“Do not be ridiculous, William. Naturally I trust you. I also assure you that my ears and eyes are not as delicate as all that. I did grow up in the country, you recall.” Darcy laughed, assisting her out of the landau. In the end, his fears were for naught, the men rather in awe at the presence of a lady in their midst. Work halted, and Lizzy only had to contend with stares, which undoubtedly bothered Darcy far more than she.
Entering the specified building, Elizabeth's eyes were instantly drawn to a partially completed curricle off to the right. There were dozens of light craft in various states of construction scattered about the warehouse; however, even before Darcy steered her toward the right, she knew. The curricle was beautiful, to be sure, polished to a lustrous gleam with shiny black steel wheels, the carriage's outer walls painted a deep maroon, and a folding top of thick tan leather. In spite of this, what captured Elizabeth's stunned attention was the Darcy family crest emblazoned on the side. It was the crest as her husband had redesigned it for her seal: daintily feminized with her initials entwined.
Lizzy was flabbergasted, and Darcy gazed at her with undisguised joy while one of the men launched into a detailed inventory of all the intricate parts and mechanisms. Darcy leaned to her ear, whispering, “Happy anniversary, my love. Do you like it?”
Lizzy was truly overcome. Tears filled her eyes and she buried her face into his arm, biting her lip to avoid bursting into sobs. Sudden powerful emotions rushed through her, not unlike the uncontrollable sentiments which had consumed her early in her pregnancy. That he would have her own curricle manufactured when he remained so anxious about her driving one was more than she could bear. She began to tremble, frantically looking around for a place to escape the prying eyes so she could privately fall apart. Spying an open door at the back of the warehouse, the glint of sunlight on water visible, she mumbled something about needing air and bolted.
Darcy stood rooted to the spot in shock for several heartbeats, mumbled his own vague excuse to the coachman, who continued to rattle on about springs and buckboards, and dashed after his wife. She stood by the river, hunched with hands on her knees, gulping air between sobs.
“Elizabeth, my God, what is wrong? Are you ill? What…”
Hands about her face as he peered intently, she interrupted incoherently, “William, I cannot believe… it is too much… I do not deserve… all this… the curricle… gifts and… you are too good… and I… am unworthy… the money spent… and…”
“Shhhh… Hush now, Elizabeth,” he cooed as he enfolded her into his arms, pressing her tight to his chest, “cease or you will make yourself ill. You must remember our baby.” He rubbed her back gently, swaying slightly as her tears slowly ebbed and shudders lessened. Pulling away finally, he again cupped her face, looking at her sternly but speaking softly, he said, “Listen to me, Elizabeth Darcy. I do not ever want to hear you utter the belief that you do not deserve anything I chose to give you or that it is my ‘goodness’ which compels me. First of all, you are worthy of all this and far more for reasons which would take me hours to numerate, yet that is merely one point. I am your husband. I am responsible for your happiness, security, health, wants and needs, pleasures, future, and all else. I take my job very seriously and will exhaust myself physically and financially if need be to ensure this. Do you understand?”
She nodded her head, staring raptly into his darkened, intently somber eyes. He continued, “I love you, Elizabeth, more than I have the words to convey. As a result of the depth of my love for you, I delight in surprising you, giving to you, pleasuring you, and all the rest. Yet, the honest truth is that my honor and duty would obligate me to do much the same no matter whom I married. If I had been so unfortunate as to marry Anne or, heaven forbid, Caroline, I would be purchasing gifts, caring for them, providing for them, and,” he shuddered involuntarily, “even… being intimate with them.” He closed his eyes as if to block the horrid vision and then sighed heavily before again meeting her gaze. “It would be so hollow and empty and emotionless. Can you now comprehend what an uncountable joy it is to me that it is you, precious Elizabeth, to whom I can fulfill my duties as husband? The alternatives are unspeakable. I have not divulged this, but there are times, less now but frequently during our engagement and early weeks of marriage, when I would wake in a sweat, having dreamt a nightmare of Caroline or some other creature in my bed.” He shook his head, again embracing her tightly. “Beloved, I can never shower you with jewels or gowns or trinkets or even curricles enough to thank you for sparing me that fate!”
He kissed her tenderly and thoroughly, aware of eyes peering through the windows of the warehouse, but he was indifferent. “Are you better now?” She nodded. “Good, because you are required to select the fabric you wish for the cushions; we still have several events planned, and I am hungry. Shall we, Mrs. Darcy?”
The two gifts patiently waiting in the landau yielded a Kashmir shawl large enough to completely cover her body down to her toes in a typical paisley pattern of yellow, blue, and mauve, and a ladies pocket watch. The watch was gold with an intricate scrollwork design on the case and a blue sapphire embedded in the center of the cover. The landau tops had been folded down per Lizzy's request, so Darcy's kisses of thanks were postponed, settling instead for a firm squeeze to his knee and her hands warmly linked in his.
They drove along the Thames, Darcy pointing to interesting landmarks as they appeared. Slowly they ambled along, the frequently dirty docks and warehouses along the river replaced with fine business establishments and humble residences as the Thames veered to the south, finally disappearing from view. Traffic thickened as they entered an obviously upscale district.
“This is Pall Mall Street,” Darcy explained, “and this area is St. James's Place. There is the Royal Academy of Arts, and there is Christie's Auction House. Mr. Anders, take us around the Square, please.” He pointed out several of the residences lining the massive and impressive square. “Only titled gentry live here, dearest. Continue, Mr. Anders, to the Palace, please, and then halt.” It was only a block or so down Pall Mall to a beautiful building with a well guarded, arched, and iron gated portico. “That is St. James's Palace, Elizabeth, home of the Prince Regent, as you know.”
“Have you ever been inside, William?”
He smiled. “Divers times for various fêtes. The first was with my father and Lord and Lady Matlock. I was twenty and had the great fortune to be presented to King George III. It was a highly formal affair, as they all are, and I was nearly petrified with anxiety. Imagine me at Meryton multiplied tenfold, and you may vaguely visualize my unease!” He laughed at the memory.
Lizzy was staring at her husband with fresh awe. Despite his wealth, which she was slowly learning to be comfortable with, and the incredible power he wielded at Pemberley, within society, and at his numerous business enterprises, she had never actually thought of him hobnobbing with royalty. Even the Earl of Matlock, so intimidating to her originally, was now simply his uncle. It was more than she could digest at the moment.
“How was he? The King, I mean,” she stammered.
“Gracious and formal. He was an impressive man in appearance, quite tall and broad. His illness was not as apparent then. Most in society were aware of its existence, but certainly not the general public. Of course, I spoke not at all other than the designated greeting then was ushered on. If I had a preference, I would gladly never step foot through those gates or any of the other Royal enclaves. Of course, when one receives an invitation to the palace, one accepts it.” He chuckled.
They drove on then, meandering leisurely through the promenade between St. James's Park and Green Park, Darcy again playing tour guide. His knowledge of the area astounded her. They passed through Hyde Park Corner and continued to the west, skirting the edge of Hyde Park itself.
“I planned for us to finish our day relaxing at the Park. We will have lunch by the lake, walk a bit if you feel able, open more gifts, whatever you wish, beloved.” He lightly kissed her temple.
The park was immense. Carriages were in abundance along the wide avenue, pedestrians and equestrians wandered over the paths and endless lawn, numerous picnic blankets and the occasional pavilion dotted the landscape. Every imaginable species of tree and bush and flower grew in profusion. Lizzy had heard of the wonders at Hyde and Kensington Parks, and the grandeur of Serpentine Lake, but the reality was stunning. After nearly forty minutes of winding through sights of breathtaking beauty, Mr. Anders finally halted.
They had crossed over the bridge to the north of the Lake, ambled along the edge, and alighted before a generous pavilion erected approximately twenty feet from the water's shore. The white tent was facing the lake, the front flaps tied back to form a sort of doorway and the other three sides of a netted material to allow breezes in. Solid canvas sheets on the netted sides were rolled up, but could be released for added privacy. Two footmen from Darcy House stood at the entrance, apparently having been in charge of guarding and likely arranging the structure. Darcy ordered them to return to the townhouse until evening.
Lizzy entered the pavilion, pausing in amazement. It was as if she had been instantly transported to an Arabian tent in the desert. A thick Persian style carpet covered the ground, a long divan stretched across the back, pillows of all sizes and bright shades and gaudy patterns with tassels dangling were scattered about, and a low table sat in the middle literally digging into the earth it was so encumbered with food. The only incongruous additions to the motif were the stack of traditionally wrapped gifts in the right front corner.
Darcy slipped his arms about her waist, pulling her close as he whispered, “For the remainder of the afternoon, you shall be a Princess lying imperiously on your divan, ordering your slave—a fortunate me—to fulfill your merest whim. I shall fan your beautiful face, rub your delicate feet, kiss your ruby lips, feed you from my hand, anything you desire. Except for singing. I will not sing. Even a slave must draw the line at utter humiliation.” They laughed.
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