My Dearest Mr. Darcy: An Amazing Journey Into Love Everlasting (12 page)

~ horses run fruitlessly

~ familial chimes to count through the ages

~ a head in miniature lies abed

~ swaying rhythms under the power of love

Giggling like a child herself, Lizzy ran to the nursery. The room was sunny and cheery. As always when she entered this room, Lizzy paused on the doorstep, marveling at the joy which permeated her soul. Resting her palms over her belly, she gazed about the chamber, eyes alighting on each precious item.

The decorating was complete and the Darcys were delighted with the outcome. The entire wall opposite the three tall windows facing east was painted with an elaborate pasture scene. All in pastels, the scene was illusionary, as Darcy stated in his riddle, yet so incredibly detailed that one expected the pale green grass to smell and the brook of periwinkle to babble and pink sheep to bleat. Horses of white and grey grazed and ran amongst the sheep and multihued flowers. The lacy blue and yellow curtains Lizzy had sewn hung from rods of polished oak, falling in soft waves to brush the hardwood floor. Several plush rugs dotted the floor, spaced at careful intervals to mute heavy footsteps that might disturb a sleeping infant. The newly installed, modern Franklin stove waited to be lit, freshly laid marble tiles reflecting the gleaming metal. An enormous dresser with padded top sat against the right wall, the door to Mrs. Hanford's chambers to one side and the door to the small closet on the other. To the left, as in Lizzy's dream, stood the cradle and cushioned rocking chair. Above the cradle hung the cuckoo clock gifted on her birthday, pendulum swinging and ticking faintly. Darcy had refinished the rocking chair, it now glinting from where it sat beside the white satin and lace-draped cradle. Inside, resting on the tiny pillow was another red rose, pearls nestled in a sack.

Constellations touchable

~ define the gods immortalized therein

~ paint your own designs, if you dare

~ passion flares beside tubes of metal

~ seeking eyes meet seeking hands

Blushing and laughing, Lizzy left the nursery, traveling down the long top-floor corridor to an empty chamber on the opposite side of the manor. Here, on the covered balcony, Darcy kept his telescope. It was a frequent game, especially during the long winter months, to pad silently in half-dressed states and gaze at the stars when visible on clear nights. Darcy instructed, Lizzy absorbing his knowledge, but ultimately losing the patterns in the jumble of heavenly bodies. She realized that she simply did not have the eye to discern the varied configurations, so would teasingly create her own. Initially Darcy had found this irritating, but over time he accepted it and enjoyed the humor of the situations. He reasoned that although his wife did not share his affinity for astronomy, she did adore stargazing in general, and as they possessed a plethora of common interests, one or two divergent ones made no difference. Besides, the lure of starlight and close proximity as he assisted her education inevitably led to far preferable amusements, often their lovemaking blissfully transpiring on the balcony's chaise. This is where Lizzy now found the third rose, pouch of two pearls, and next riddle.

Military might slumbers

~ relative humor questionable

~ amusement and faithfulness assured

~ matrimony avoided, any ideas?

~ effervescent strength

Under the watchful eye of a rigidly poised Watson, she sedately walked down the stairs to the main floor's residence wing to the last door on the west passageway: Richard's chambers. The first time Lizzy had ever entered these rooms was during her beginning weeks at Pemberley, on one of those days when Darcy was busy with Mr. Keith so she utilized the time to wander about, learning her way. The vast percentage of Pemberley's guest chambers had a long disused quality to them readily discernible. This room, unknown as Col. Fitzwilliam's, had instantly struck her differently. She discovered later that Richard was a frequent visitor, actually residing more often here than at his ancestral home, Rivallain, and the mark of his ebullient presence seemed to have seeped into the very walls.

The rose lay serenely at the foot of the bed. Two more perfect pearls added to the others in her pocket.

Hall of living stone

~ sightless eyes bore into your soul, loving you eternally

~ loneliness allayed forevermore

~ my beloved in perpetuity

Lizzy's heart leapt. She rushed from the room, slowing under the vigilant gaze of Watson, undoubtedly planted there to ensure her caution. She smiled at him brilliantly, dropping a curtsy. The footman bowed, his lips lifting slightly. At the corner she glanced behind, Watson's eyes upon her, and waved airily with a tinkling laugh before launching into a brisk sprint to the sculpture gallery.

Darcy's bust was the obvious answer to the puzzle, although the last phrase was unclear.
Her
beloved was in perpetuity, but Darcy was writing the riddle and referring to her. She had a guess as to the solution and rounding the corner gasped nonetheless when she found she was correct. While in London, Darcy had taken Mrs. Lathrop's suggestion to heart and Lizzy spent a few hours sitting for a sculptor. Darcy had made no further mention of her bust, Lizzy choosing to let the matter lie, knowing that he would prefer to surprise her in some manner.

Well, he had succeeded. Her likeness etched in cold white marble sat on a pedestal beside her husband's. Every detail flawless, her tender smile and glowing happiness magically captured. As when she gazed upon his bust, or any of the other amazing statues in the gallery, Lizzy was awed by the art form. She had blushed and mildly resisted having a bust made, but now that it was here beside her husband in this place where it would sit for generations untold, Lizzy could only feel deep pride. She paused a moment more, as she could never refrain from doing, and stroked his luminous cheek.

"I love you, William," she whispered with a smile, retrieving the rose, pearls, and note lying on a tiny table near the pedestals.

Prose and poetry

~ classic and contemporary

~ silent contemplation amongst the dust

~ romance amid the historical

~ favored master retreat

No hesitation as she pivoted toward the far door and short corridor leading to the library. His clues were obvious, but the room was gigantic, offering any number of places to place a rose. She rather thought his chair a logical place, but was unsure based on the allusion to romance, which could easily refer to the time they made love between the shelves of history texts. Of course, they had made love several times in the library, she recalled with a blush and heavenly sigh, so he was likely being general.

She was correct in her initial assumption. The rose, pearls, and paper lay on his massive leather chair. Lizzy's stomach released a loud growl, tremulous hands reminding her that she had eaten nothing yet this morning. As delightful as his little game was, she sincerely hoped this was the last as she was famished. Alas, not yet.

A precious presence seen

~ heart awakens as eyes lock

~ a dream?

~ a delusion?

~ or the beginning of life lived abundantly and completely?

"The latter, my heart, the latter," she murmured, kissing the folded parchment. Fourteen pearls now weighted her pocket and her hands were encumbered with parchment and roses as Lizzy headed toward the terrace.