Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice Sequel Bundle: 3 Reader Favorites (160 page)

“This wing of the second floor is primarily private apartments,” Darcy explained. He stopped and pointed down the passageway. “Georgiana’s chambers are down there and to the left are guests’ quarters. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Bingley have rooms set aside for their use. I suppose we shall need to reassign Bingley’s chambers as the current ones are inappropriate for Jane as well. You have seen some of the public rooms on the southern wing, but we will tour them thoroughly tomorrow. Our chambers are up this staircase, on the third floor.”

“William, I am lost already! I sincerely hope you plan on staying close by my side or I may wander off some forgotten corridor and never be seen again. I could well become the ghost bride who haunts Pemberley for all eternity.” She laughed.

“Never fear, my dear. I intend to keep you quite near, not only so you will not get lost but for other purely selfish motives,” he said cheekily. “In truth, Pemberley is not as difficult to navigate as some manors I have been in. Rosings, for instance, is far older, and I have always imagined the original architects taking perverse delight in designing a maze of halls and rooms with the singular intention of confusing the inhabitants. Also, Pemberley is well lit, day and night. I refuse to bump into walls, so I insist on lit lamps in the main rooms and passages. All the rooms and hallways have windows that admit sunlight during the day.”

They had reached the third-floor landing and Darcy paused. He gestured to the right-hand passages. “Those rooms are unoccupied and have been since I moved into my father’s chambers years ago. Occasionally we have needed to open them for guests, but I prefer guests to stay on the second floor. Someday
our children will reside in those rooms.” He said the last sentence softly and looked at Elizabeth with tenderness.

She smiled back but could not resist teasing just a bit. “And how many rooms are we to generate occupants for, sir? A girl likes to grasp what she is in for in life!”

“Well, let me think,” Darcy thoughtfully mused, “there are at least a dozen empty chambers down that wing and I believe three on this wing, not to mention the others on the western side of the manor, so…” he paused and in mock seriousness began counting on his fingers, pretending to be unable to add it all before he gave up. “It is quite a few, my dear, so I suppose we ought to get busy with the unpleasant task of creating said occupants.” He sighed deeply and theatrically, an expression of mournful sadness on his face, “A gentleman must be diligent in his duties.”

Elizabeth laughed and took his hand, propelling him forward. “You are incorrigible! Lead the way before I attempt it and get us hopelessly waylaid.”

Darcy complied, leading her to a set of double doors to the left. He stopped before opening them and took her face in his hands. “Elizabeth, I have dreamed of showing you these rooms, of having you here as my wife for so long now. I am overwhelmed! Pinch me or something so I know I am not dreaming.”

“I shall do better,” she said. She wound her arms behind his neck, twining fingers into his hair, and brought his face to hers. She kissed him with wild abandon, pouring her love into the task. He encircled her waist with his arms, drawing her to him so that she was pressed against every plane of his body. She could feel his ardor, his desire and arousal, and she experienced it, too. He buried his face in her neck and inhaled deeply of her lavender fragrance.

She held him tightly, allowing him the time he needed to regain control and steady his breathing. Softly she whispered, “I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy. Now, beloved, are you convinced of my reality?” He nodded, kissed her lips briefly, and regretfully released her.

Turning back to the doors, he said, “Remember, my love, these rooms were my mother’s and she decorated them when she came to Pemberley as a new bride. Therefore, the fashion is more than thirty years old and totally outdated. You will be able to refurbish the chambers however you desire.” He opened the door to his wife’s modest sitting room and held her hand as they entered.

The room was generous but cozy. His mother had had an observable predilection for green and peach. Lizzy did not dislike the motif, his mother
obviously having had exceptional taste, but she knew instantly it was not her preference. However, this was a vague thought as her eyes were drawn to the large windows, the general dimensions of the room, and the fine fireplace. She could easily imagine being very comfortable relaxing here.

Darcy was studying her closely. “I have arranged for a decorator to come from London next week, dearest. He will assist you with finding a style more pleasing to you.”

“Truly, William, you worry too much. The room is beautiful. I will grant that some modification would be welcome. I tend to prefer darker colors, earthy tones, you could say. Nonetheless, I would not want to embark on a spending frenzy simply because the colors are not to my liking!”

Darcy laughed, “Now it is you who are worrying too much. The expense is not an issue. I assure you the estate can afford renovating a couple of rooms.” Lizzy furrowed her brow. She wondered, briefly, if she would ever become accustomed to money not being a concern.

He led her to her bedchamber. It was arrayed in the same colors and fashion as the sitting room. The bed was ample but not overly huge, and several chairs sat on a beautiful Oriental rug that carpeted the floor. Three other doors were visible. Darcy pointed to one. “That leads to my private sitting room, through which is my bedchamber.”

“Where does that door lead?” she asked, pointing to a door recessed in a curtained alcove.

“The nursery,” Darcy responded. “It has been unused since Georgiana was born and is empty. Beyond it is another chamber for a nurse.” He had come behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, kissing her below her ear.

“Are you planning on practicing the filling of those uninhabited chambers this moment, Mr. Darcy?” she said archly.

“It
is
a bedchamber, my dear, although not the bedchamber I have fantasized seeing you in.” He playfully nibbled on her earlobe.

She turned in his arms, smiling wickedly. “Fantasies, is it? Why, Mr. Darcy, how decadent of you! I am shocked to the core!”

He held tighter, “You minx! You have revealed your dreams to me, so do not play innocent.” He kissed her heartily but she wiggled out of his arms, giggling.

“We may never complete this tour, sir, if you constantly interrupt.” With an impish smile she flounced to the third unexplored door. He followed, smiling foolishly.

This door led to her dressing area. This room, with adjacent bathing area, was larger than the bedchamber. Rows upon rows of drawers, numerous racks to hang gowns, and shelves for shoes lined one entire wall length. Her meager belongings took up no space at all. An enormous floor-length mirror stood at one end. The vanity was magnificent with a dark-blue velvet cushioned bench, dozens of small drawers, and a mirror edged in gold. On the top was a large bouquet of white roses in a crystal vase surrounded by perfume bottles and a musical box. Through the arch, an enormous bathing tub and an elegant stand with a porcelain washbasin and pitcher were visible.

However, Elizabeth noticed none of this initially, because her eyes were immediately captured by the painting on the wall above the vanity. She gasped and her trembling hand touched her mouth as tears filled her eyes. She was speechless.

“William… how… where… I do not understand…”

He was beside her, one arm around her waist, an expression of incomparable exhilaration on his face. “Do you like it, my darling? I discovered it in a gallery in London, quite by accident. It instantly reminded me of Hertfordshire and the meadow near Longbourn where we met on the day you accepted me.” His voice throbbed with emotion.

It was a landscape that uncannily resembled her childhood home. The field of knee-high green grasses almost appeared to wave in the sun-kissed air. A small stream cut crookedly through the middle, a narrow stone bridge spanning one edge. In the distance stood a house of beige bricks obscured by the faint wisps of English mist hugging the ground. The work was exquisite, but even if it had been of poor quality, she would have been tremendously moved.

Lizzy could instantly understand why the painting had struck her husband. It was not the moor near Longbourn where they encountered each other that fateful day in late September, drawn to each other as if by magic, but stunningly similar. She could almost see their figures in the haze, finally speaking openly of the love they shared.

Elizabeth’s thoughts and emotions were in riot. She wanted to cry, to laugh, to hold her husband tenderly, to passionately make love to him right there. He surprised her continually in his ability to show his adoration for her, his devotion. For an agonizing second she experienced an acute stab of unworthiness. What had she done in life to deserve such an extraordinary man?
The answer was nothing… his love was a gift and she would spend her life dedicated to the task of loving him in return with equal fervor.

With tears coursing down her cheeks, she turned to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him as close as possible, her face pressed against his chest. She could not think of the proper words to express herself, so she merely held him. For a very long while they stood thus, embracing in love without thoughts of passion, content to hear the other breathing, the warmth of their bodies seeping into each other. Unaware of who moved first, Darcy kissed her tears away with the utmost tenderness while they were still locked together in sweet harmony. Softly murmured endearments proceeded from both their mouths in a welter of need to articulate the consuming love they both felt.

Eventually their eyes met, hers shimmering with tears and his the pure blue of a cloudless summer sky. He smiled a smile that lit his face and caused Elizabeth’s knees to weaken. “So, you approve of the painting?” he whispered in his melodious voice.

Elizabeth laughed and bent her head to his chest momentarily before looking back at him, mirth dancing in her eyes. “Yes, my love, I ‘approve’ of the painting.” She giggled and hugged him again. “Thank you! It is.… unbelievable. I am at a loss for words. You will never cease to amaze me, William. With each passing day I realize how blessed I am to have you as mine and how I shall enjoy being your wife.”

“Well, that is a relief! I was beginning to wonder,” he teased, kissing her nose. He snatched her hand and led her toward a door she had not noted previously. He stopped and assumed a melodramatic tone, “The tour commences, Mrs. Darcy! Now to my favorite room in all of Pemberley, or at least hereafter it shall be. The chamber which shall be subjected to the greatest of joys, pleasures untold, passion of the highest order, ecstasy unparalleled!” and with a flourish he opened the door to his bedchamber.

Elizabeth continued to laugh at her husband’s silliness as she crossed the threshold. Immediately she was enveloped by a profound sensation of peace and contentment. In one swift glance she knew this room was perfect; it was home. The walls were covered with rich mahogany paneling and cream wallpaper printed with a twining design of autumn leaves. The ceiling was also cream colored with intricately scrolled beams of polished mahogany.

The massive four-poster bed was carved mahogany with curtains of burgundy and gold velvet and a coverlet of cream with burgundy edging.
A gigantic fireplace with a roaring fire gave the room a comforting glow. The Turkish rug was an incredible design in blues and gold. Two large windows, each with gauzy curtains lining thick ones of damask, flanked a set of French-style doors that opened onto a balcony facing south with an incredible view of the fountain-accented lake and extensive lawn. Across the room, beyond the bed, three more large windows faced east. The chamber itself was generous in size but sparingly furnished, creating a sublime atmosphere of openness.

Elizabeth walked about the room touching and admiring. Many of her husband’s personal touches were evident: a forgotten book on the bed stand, a miniature of Georgiana, a decanter of brandy and several glasses with
F.D.
engraved on them, a pair of slippers next to the bed, and a small pillow with Parsifal’s likeness embroidered on it. She had not previously contemplated what William’s tastes might be. Having not seen any of the private rooms on her previous visits, nor when visiting Darcy House in London, she had had no way to make a judgment. Yet, looking about this room, she knew it was absolutely him. More amazing, it was absolutely her! The rich colors, the lack of pretension, and the hominess were precisely as she would desire.

Darcy was watching her intently and nervously. “I had some furnishings removed and purchased the rug and coverlet to replace what I had before, they being quite old. These have been my rooms for many years, my love, so I am afraid they have been indelibly stamped with my personality. However, it is important to me that you find this suite to your liking. Any suggestions you have are welcome.”

He moved to where she was standing and took her hands, staring intently into her eyes. “Elizabeth, I am aware that we have not discussed this and I do not wish to embarrass you.” He swallowed and then continued with a slight blush on his cheeks. “Convention would dictate that these remain my chambers and you have your own. I would never presume to force my wishes upon you nor request you submit to any action that is unfavorable to you. However, I have been alone for far too long and have no appetite for solitude. My fervent hope has been that you would choose to share my chambers with me at all times. However, I will understand if this is not… Elizabeth, why are you laughing? This is serious!”

“I am sorry, my dear, but… Fitzwilliam Darcy, for all your wisdom, maturity, and authority, you can be such a baby sometimes!” She could not stop laughing. “Any time we allowed convention to dictate our relationship,
we ended up miserable. It was not proper for me ever to tour Pemberley, all things considered, or you to rush after me as you did. Rules of society would not have had you dash to Lambton to invite total strangers to dine at your house. And it most assuredly was neither proper nor conventional for us to become betrothed while unescorted and without a prior courtship! I would say that flouting convention has served us quite well, and I do not intend to deviate in this matter!”