My Dearest Mr. Darcy: An Amazing Journey Into Love Everlasting (19 page)

"Here you are, Elizabeth."

"Thank you, dearest." Lizzy smiled into her husband's eyes as she reached to take the tall glass of mixed fruit juice from his hand. "What do you have there?"

He placed the small linen-wrapped basket he held in his hand, the subject of her query, onto the little table between their chairs. Responding as he reclaimed his seat, "I thought while I was retrieving beverages for us I would also snare a snack. Completely selfish on my part as I did not wish to trudge up to the inn thirty minutes from now when you suddenly realized you have not eaten in two hours." He grinned while Lizzy rolled her eyes.

"Walking some hundred feet hardly qualifies as trudging, Mr. Darcy, and my increased appetite is all your doing, as we have established."

"As you wish, Elizabeth. I brought those pecan scones you like so much, some raspberries, and two bananas." He picked up his book, stretching long legs onto the lounger with a contented sigh.

It was their third day at the resort and thus far they had traveled no farther than the beach, pier, and pathways through the wood. Darcy had a whole list of local entertainments, most of which they did wish to visit, but the delight of leisurely hours staring at the waves and swimming was currently taking precedence. Both days they had risen later than usual, foregoing any bedroom activities to join the other guests for a lingering breakfast as the nightly mist departed. They had missed the sunrises, one of the items on Darcy's list, but the play of morning sunlight on the water and thinning fog was an enchanting backdrop while dining.

At some point in the day they utilized the bathing machine for an hour or two. Darcy did teach his wife to swim, the only stroke she was moderately proficient at being the backstroke. Modesty and safety prevented him steering her too far from the machine, even though they were well away from any potential prying eyes. Lizzy enjoyed the lessons and not merely because Darcy was the teacher. The water was colder then she would have preferred, but bracing and revitalizing nonetheless. Mostly it was the sense of balance and gracefulness she felt in the water that was appealing. Of course, they did manage to waste a great deal of time in horseplay with splashing, diving for rocks, tickling, and dunking. Inevitably the session ended with exquisite lovemaking.

Now they sat on padded, wooden lounge chairs located on the sand. An umbrella shaded them from the harsh sun. This area of the beach, the southern edge of the private expanse nearest the pier, was well away from the bathing machines situated to the left by the rocks. Numerous chairs and umbrellas were set to accommodate the guests. Several children frolicked in the surf, their squeals of glee mingling with seagull squawks and crashing waves. It was wholly relaxing, peaceful, and refreshing. The days were comfortably warm with the oppressive heat of Derbyshire left far behind; cooling, gentle breezes replete with the tang of salt and fish flowed intermittently.

Lizzy sipped her drink and nibbled on a scone while applying the finishing touches on a gown for their baby. Darcy read, naturally, Montesquieu having been completed so now he was studying the dry textbook on marine wildlife and vegetation with intent interest.

"Look here, love." He spoke into the silence, holding the page up for her inspection. "A drawing of those birds we saw yesterday by the rocks. An Arctic tern. I thought it was in the tern family, but the markings were different. They are indigenous to the polar regions, not seen frequently this far south. Listen to this: they migrate year-round from the Arctic to the Antarctic, making them one of the farthest traveling bird species known. They seek the summers in both places, rarely in their lifetime experiencing night. How fascinating!"

Lizzy smiled, displaying the appropriate amount of interest before resuming her own task. It was not that she found learning the names and habits of God's creatures unworthy, but her thirst for absorbing all knowledge to the tiniest degree was not as unquenchable as it was for Darcy. She was frankly flabbergasted that he could attend to the thick manual page after page as if riveting literature. What was even more astounding is that she knew he would assimilate and regurgitate eighty percent of what he read fifty years hence, his memory phenomenal.

The Henners wandered by, the thirteen- and fifteen-year-old daughters shyly glancing at Darcy, who was oblivious. "Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy," Mr. Henner greeted with a bow, Mrs. Henner dropping a curtsey and softly greeting. "I pray your afternoon is progressing delightfully?"

"Very much, Mr. Henner. Thank you. Are you leaving the beach?"

Mr. Henner nodded. "The ladies are gathering for a swim. The menfolk will be meeting for faro in the game room. Will you be participating, Mr. Darcy?"

Lizzy stifled a laugh as a cough, Darcy ignoring her as he replied, "Thank you, but no. I will be bathing later, however. See you then, Mr. Henner?"

"Absolutely! Enjoy the sea air, Mrs. Darcy." They left, the girls giggling and whispering.

"William, if you wish to play cards, I do not mind. You do it so rarely that you should leap at the chance."

"I play rarely because I am hopelessly inept and unlucky, and I do not particularly enjoy the game. I may appeal to your magnanimity for a game or two of billiards this evening, however. Lord Stewart plays, as does Baron Noble. Would another short separation disturb you, dearest?"

"Of course not. I will miss you, but I am certain I can find some activity to soothe my broken heart." She reached over and squeezed his hand, Darcy smiling and squeezing in return. He returned to his book, Lizzy staring into the sea. After barely two days she felt as if they had been here a week. As enormously thrilling as their Derbyshire excursion had been, the fast pace had allowed little time for prolonged periods of relaxation. Here they spent inordinate amounts of time doing absolutely nothing, and it was fantastic. Lizzy would hesitate to admit it to her overprotective spouse, but her burgeoning body was gradually beginning to complain at the alterations! Personally she never would have imagined ever reaching a state of mind where lying lazily about was prodigious, but it was happening.

Lost in his text for God knows how long, Darcy was jolted to awareness by a piercing squeal from the water. It was only the children playing, Darcy smiling at their antics as he turned to his wife with a comment only to find her sound asleep. With a frown he realized that the sun had moved past the sheltering umbrella, the left side of her fair face dewy with perspiration from the direct rays. With a mumbled curse at himself, he rose hastily and readjusted the umbrella stand. He touched her cheek gingerly so as not to wake her, sending a silent prayer heavenward for his timing as the skin was unburned.

His eyebrows shot up when he noted the late hour on his pocketwatch, the time for men's bathing ten minutes away. He cautiously adjusted Lizzy's bonnet to further protect her face, studied the sun for a moment and moved the umbrella a bit more, only then satisfied enough to leave her napping. He knelt, gently rubbing over her abdomen and brushing the fingers resting there, leaning for a soft kiss to her head. Resisting the urge to kiss their child with difficulty, several loitering resort guests already peering at him oddly, he rose and crossed to one of the servants standing at attention by the beach edge.

"My good man," he began, pressing a five-pound note into the stunned servant's hand, "my wife is sleeping under that umbrella there. I am going bathing. I require you to watch the sun's movements and ensure she remains shaded. Wake her if this becomes impossible. When she wakens, inform her where I have gone and assist her to our room. Send for me if necessary."

His fears and concerns were for naught. Lizzy woke refreshed, well shaded, and with a cooling breeze wafting over her body. She instantly knew where Darcy was, not even needing to check her pocketwatch, the efficient servant merely confirming her supposition. They reconnected to mutual approbation in their bedchamber, both revitalized and dressed for dining. At the lower level landing, however, Darcy led Lizzy to the right and out the front doors.

"I know we have only been here three days now, but I am almost positive our dining room is to the left," she offered with a smile.

Darcy chuckled. "If you are not feeling faint from hunger, my love, I thought we could walk the beach at dusk. It is a peaceful time of day with the others engaged indoors and the birds calming for the night. I always love the serenity and beauty of the sea at dusk with the sun setting, casting remarkable shadows and deep colors onto the waves."

"You should have been born near the sea, William, although I cannot imagine you living anywhere but Pemberley."

"It is interesting, Elizabeth. In my travels I always gravitate to the seashore with eager enthusiasm. Yet, I am not fond of ships per se, despite owning four, nor do I care for sea voyages. I have met so many people who do live by the water and have discovered an odd phenomenon: those who live near the endless beauty of the ocean often take it for granted. They no longer notice the dazzling sunrises or sunsets, the surf does not move them, and they rarely walk the beach. I suppose we are all that way to some degree. I know that since sharing my homeland with you I have renewed my ardor for many of the wonders that I did not readily dwell on. It is as if I am seeing it for the first time through your eyes, and I love that you have provided me the opportunity. Therefore, I consider myself fortunate that I only view the sea every year or so, and from different perspectives. Keeps the experience fresh and ever changing."

He guided her warily down the dimly lit steps to the beach. They strolled in silence over the expanse of shifting sand toward the water line, the tide notably higher than when Lizzy departed that afternoon. The waning sunlight as it dipped below the western horizon did cast stupendous hues over the clouds and rippling water. With an essentially clear sky marred fragmentally with wispy strings of clouds, the rainbow tones of burnished scarlet, orange, gold, violet, blue, and a myriad unnameable massed together into a vivid display. They stood on the tide's boundary as the eastern horizon faded into deepening shadows; the terminal glimmers of sunlight on undulating waves slowly replaced with twinkles of starlight. A lone sailing vessel of indeterminate type passed gradually into the blackness off the world's rim.

All the while, Darcy and Lizzy stood with arms encircling waists, in silent contemplation of life and nature and the stunning majesty of the Creator.

O
VER THE FOLLOWING DAYS the Darcys altered their schedule somewhat. They wandered into Caister-on-Sea, deciding to walk the half-mile, well-maintained, oak-lined trail from the resort to the small hamlet. The village itself was wholly unremarkable: quaint and tidy with a meager number of shops catering to the locals, small fishing boats in abundance, and a people universally rustic and hardy. The only true draws to the town were the church and castle, both of immense significance and interest to Darcy and Lizzy.

The Holy Trinity Church was in appearance like many other churches they had seen, architecture of the fourteenth century standard throughout the country. Of course, that is not to say it was not lovely. Built of grey brick with a tall castellated tower, high arched windows, and a long nave leading to an unusual pipe organ at the chancel. The organ pipes were split into two sets on either side of the aisle and appeared to lean toward each other as if whispering, creating a vague tunnel-like sensation entering the chancel. An ornately detailed hatchment with the royal coat of arms patently commemorated George III, yet it also showed cleverly painted-over markings for James I from two hundred years prior. The building was very old and deteriorating in subtle places, the modest community likely unable to contribute the monies necessary to sustain the structure. Darcy left a generous donation, feeling particularly charitable after a time of quiet contemplation both inside the sanctuary and strolling with his wife through the ancient cemetery and gardens.

Caister Castle was located near the church, a pleasant walk over the heathland. Sparse clusters of birch trees with a thick underbrush of gorse scrub and bracken with trailing vines of wild honeysuckle and bluebells adding a pleasing fragrance to overcome the faint but persistent odor of fish. Butterflies fluttered in abundance, unperturbed by the scores of bees attacking the fall blooms. The ruins of the castle sat rather forlornly on an expanse of wild land, the main pathway and road the only areas attended to. The moat had long since been drained and filled in with the debris of time, only the vaguest markings indicating that it had ever existed.

Built in 1432, the glorified manor house was notable for a couple reasons. One, the owner and architect was Sir John Falstaff, or Fastolfe depending on the reference, who was the inspiration for William Shakespeare's character of the same name. Luckily for Sir Falstaff, he was long since deceased before his name was immortalized in three of Shakespeare's plays as the depiction was not a favorable one. Secondly, Henry VI granted only five licenses to crenellate during his entire fifty-year reign, a legal necessity from the crown in order to build a defensible structure with battlements, moats, and gunports. Caister Manor, the home of Sir Falstaff, received this honor, allowing him to fortify his home with a ninety-foot tower, three-foot-thick bricks, and separate courtyards.