“Then we must hope your father lives to a ripe old age!” interposed Darcy.
Elizabeth laughed. “I am sure he will.” She began to read again. “We are setting out for Jane’s tomorrow and we mean to travel by easy stages, arriving on the 19th.” She broke off and said, “So they will be there in two days’ time. If we leave tomorrow then we will have Jane and the baby to ourselves for a day before Mama arrives.”
She finished reading the letter to herself, then told him what it had contained, shorn of her mother’s ramblings.
“Maria Lucas is going to Jane’s as well. She and Kitty have become firm friends and so Jane has invited her to keep Kitty company. I am glad of it. Mary is not much of a companion, as she spends her time either practising the pianoforte or reading sermons and making extracts from them. With Jane and I living our own lives and Lydia in the north, it must be lonely for Kitty.”
“Your mother will no doubt find a husband for her before too long,” said Darcy.
“I rather believe that is what she is hoping for this Christmas. There will be no other guests staying in the house, only family, but Mama hopes there will be entertainments in the evenings and visitors during the day, and that one of them might suit Kitty.”
“But only if he has ten thousand a year!”
“Yes,” said Lizzy. “You have quite spoilt Mama for other men!”
“Or at least, for other fortunes!” said Darcy.
“And now I must go and see Mrs. Reynolds, then in an hour, you must take me round the park in the phaeton.”
Elizabeth left the room and Darcy finished his breakfast, then went out to the stables where he gave orders for the journey on the following day. As well as the usual instructions, he made it plain that he required one of the under grooms, a lad who was an expert horseman and a very fast rider, to be amongst the party and that he expected the lad to ride Lightning. This produced a startled reaction from the head groom, for Lightning was one of the most expensive horses in the stables. But Darcy was adamant. Although he did not say so, he wanted to be sure that help could be brought quickly if Elizabeth unexpectedly went into labour.
At the mere thought of it, he almost decided to cancel the journey after all, but he knew it would give Elizabeth such pleasure that he could not deny her the treat.
On leaving the stables he returned to the house and went upstairs to speak to his valet. As he did so he passed the foot of the stairs leading to the second floor, wherein lay the nursery, and on a sudden impulse he mounted them.
They gave way to a corridor which was looking bright and cheerful, having been newly renovated. The windows had been cleaned and the view they gave over the Pemberley park was beautiful. Sweeping lawns spread in every direction, and beyond them lay the Derbyshire moor.
He trod on the squeaking floorboard and smiled. Elizabeth had at first wanted to replace it, but she had relented when he had told her that it reminded him of his childhood. When he had slept in the nursery, its sound had heralded the approach of visitors.
His had been a happy childhood, roaming the grounds and climbing trees, loved by both parents, his beautiful mother and his austere father. From his mother had come open demonstrations of affection; from his father had come a solid feeling of security.
“The Darcys have lived at Pemberley for over two hundred years,” his father had said to him. “It is a name to be proud of.”
And he had been proud. Too proud on occasion, he thought uncomfortably, as he remembered his early relationship with Elizabeth. But she had taught him that too much pride led to incivility and, worse, blindness. Blindness to the qualities of others, regardless of their rank. And so he had mended his ways, and in doing so he had won his dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.
He paused on the threshold of the nursery. It had been decorated in a sunny yellow and the window seat had been upholstered in a matching fabric decorated with rocking horses. The inspiration had been his old wooden rocking horse, which had been freshly painted and varnished. He had spent many happy hours playing on it, as he had spent many happy hours kneeling on the window seat and looking out at the gardens, his excitement brimming over as he had seen his first pony standing below.
He turned to look at the cot in which he himself had slept, and he had a sudden memory of his mother bending over him illuminated by a halo of light coming from the candles on the landing behind her. He could almost hear the swish of her brocade dress as she bent over him, and feel the soft fall of powder on his cheek as she kissed him goodnight.
And then the memory faded and he thought that here, soon, his own child would be sleeping, climbing on the window seat, riding on the rocking horse.
He had always known he must marry and provide an heir for Pemberley, but with Elizabeth it was so much more than that. It was not just marrying and then having done with it; it was going through life together, exploring its new experiences side by side. And it was this, having a child together, becoming a family.
He smiled and, with one last look around the room, he went down to the first floor. He gave instructions to his valet for the morrow, then he went downstairs and rang for Mrs. Reynolds.
“Mrs. Darcy has no doubt told you of our plans for tomorrow,” he said.
“Yes, sir, she has.”
“I want to make sure that everything is done for her comfort. Blankets in the coach, a hot brick for her feet, a hamper of food with some tempting delicacies, and plenty of cushions.”
Mrs. Reynolds assured him that everything would be done. Content that he had made all the necessary plans, he made ready to escort his wife around the park in the phaeton.
As they set out, Elizabeth looking radiant in a new blue cloak, Darcy privately thought that the ride might show her she was not capable of making such a long journey by coach on the morrow. But instead of finding it uncomfortable she found it exhilarating. She was by nature active, and if she could not walk round the park, then to drive was the next best thing.
“You did not find it too tiring?” he asked her as he handed her out of the phaeton after an hour.
“Not at all. And I will not find the coach journey too tiring either,” she said mischievously.
“Then I admit myself beaten. We will set off at two o’clock,” he said.
There was a light covering of snow the following day. The whiteness glittered in the sunshine as it lay across the open expanse of the moor.
When Elizabeth stepped outside after lunch, the sharp, clean air stung her cheeks and made them glow. Darcy handed her into the coach. She settled herself, with some difficulty, on the comfortable seats, and he wrapped her round with blankets. She put her feet on the hot brick, the door was closed, and, with a crunching sound as the wheels began to roll across the frosted gravel, they were off.
Elizabeth felt her spirits rise as they bowled down the drive and turned into the road. She had not set foot beyond the gates for a week, and she was looking forward to the journey.
It was now almost three months since Jane and Bingley had left Netherfield. It had been a comfortable house and it had created many happy memories for them, but it was too near to Mrs. Bennet to be truly home. Mrs. Bennet had had a habit of visiting every day, sometimes two or three times a day, and if it was not Mrs. Bennet, then it was one of the other relations. Jane, always softhearted, had not liked to tell them that, although she loved them, she did not want to see them quite so often; and even Bingley, the most mild-mannered of men, had been heard to remark on several occasions that he wished the Bennets were not quite so near.