Mr. Darcy's Promise (12 page)

Darcy was so relieved.
She smiled! Thank goodness! I must have been right! She was worried about the wedding night!
He dabbed at the single tear running down her cheek and placed the wet handkerchief back in her hand. He gazed in her eyes and smiled back. He then settled back against the back of the carriage and prayed that this was a good sign.
Perhaps she might even start teasing me again!

*****

In spite of her self-consciousness in doing so, Elizabeth reached for her reticule and took out her mirror. By now London was all around her, and by the way Mr. Darcy was acting, it would only be a matter of minutes until they reached Darcy House. She examined her reflection with consternation. “Oh dear!”

Mr. Darcy looked more concerned than the matter called for. “What is the matter?”

“I am hardly presentable! How much time do we have until we arrive?”

“Five minutes or so.”
In spite of Elizabeth’s attempts to do so discreetly, he closely watched her pull out pins and section by section repin her hair. She folded up the handkerchief and patted at her eyes before she surreptitiously pinched both her cheeks. He had heard of women doing so to bring some color to otherwise pale complexions, but never actually witnessed it. “You are quite presentable,” he said, and then added after a moment, “In fact, you look lovely.” He watched as his second comment made her glance his way briefly. When her eyes met with his they fluttered before a charming blush suffused her cheeks.
Now that is how one puts color in a lady’s face!
She looked back out the window and they sat in silence until they arrived.

Mr. Darcy’s groomsman was waiting faithfully to open the door. “Welcome home, Mr. Darcy.”

“Thank you, Anderson.” Mr. Darcy exited the carriage, handing Elizabeth out before tucking her arm into his. They walked in silence to the front door where he introduced Elizabeth to the waiting butler. “Mr. Taylor, this is Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy, my new bride. Elizabeth, this is the butler, Mr. Taylor.” He turned to the butler. “Would you be so kind to collect the servants so I can introduce them to their new mistress? I will just show her around a little.”

“Certainly, sir!”
He took the gloves and hats from them, bowing once more to Elizabeth and left immediately.

It took Elizabeth a moment to realize how firmly she was holding onto Mr. Darcy’s arm. She released it slightly, but he placed his other hand atop hers. She didn’t know what to make of it, but realized that he was probably putting on a show for the servants
. I am his wife now and I must remember not to embarrass him.
She was too embarrassed herself to even look around until they were half way down the hall and he began pointing out different rooms to her. She was shown the sitting room, the music room, the door to his study, and then he stopped in front of a large door.

Mr. Darcy let go of her arm with one hand while he opened the door to the library. “This is the room I most hope you will enjoy. I have great pride in it.” He tried to guide her in while still holding her arm. It was a little awkward as the frame was too narrow for both to pass comfortably, but he wasn’t ready to give up this simple pleasure quite yet.

Oh my! Look at all these books!
Each wall was filled from floor to ceiling with books. The room itself was bigger than Longbourn’s sitting room and dining room put together. There had to have been thousands of books! She could smell the leather and the aged paper. The smell filled the room and calmed her a great deal. It also helped a little with the headache that had been forming for some time. She reached her hand out, brushing her fingers against the rows and rows of books. Mr. Darcy finally dropped her arm.
Of course, now that there are no servants to watch, we do not have to perform our roles. I will have to remember that in the future and perform as a good wife should.
She fingered the bindings and looked at the many titles, most of which she had not heard of. Each book had a series of numbers and letters on the bottom. “Mr. Darcy . . .”

“William . . .” He corrected her.

She was too impressed with the sheer number of books to be disgruntled by the reminder of his request to call him by his Christian name. “What are these numbers and letters engraved on the base of each book?” She looked at him then. His eyes lit up. For a moment she could imagine what he looked like as a schoolboy.

“It is a method I heard about in France that allows one to organize and find any book in your collection. Here, come over here.” He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a drawer. She leaned over and was surprised to see that the drawer held hundreds of
cards, each filed one right after another.

He pulled out one such card and showed it to her. “Each book I own has two sets of cards in these drawers. One card is filed under the title and the second is filed under the author. See here, this card in the J’s is filed as
Julius Caesar
and at the bottom is the name of the author, William Shakespeare. You will find an identical card under the S’s for the name William Shakespeare for
Julius Caesar
. You can find any book as long as you have the name of the book or the name of the author.”

Elizabeth felt as if she should say something. “Such an impressive way to catalog what books you own,” she commented.

“It is more than that. See, on the right of each card is a series of numbers and letters that correlate to the numbers you see on the books themselves. Over by the door are the smaller numbers and as the books wrap around to the fireplace they get larger.”

Elizabeth was stunned. She could spend hours just reading the titles, but to have the ability to find the exact book she was looking for in a matter of minutes in a library this large was thrilling! “I am thoroughly impressed! I do not think I have ever seen a library quite this large! I am afraid if you cannot find me you should look here first. It is sure to be my favorite room.”

Mr. Darcy was overjoyed at the spark of light that appeared in her eyes as she said this. “Then I shall have great pleasure in bringing you to Pemberley. The library there is three times as large.”

Her eyes widened.
“Truly?”

He walked over to her and took her hand in his, “Truly, but I admit you might not be as impressed as you are here. We have just started the cataloging process and it is not in any way a sanctuary. This room took nearly three months to catalog. We just started Pemberley’s right before I left for Hertfordshire. I am assured that in spite of everyone’s best efforts, it is still greatly in need of work.”

Elizabeth offered him a quiet smile. “Perhaps I can look forward to being of assistance.”

A knock was heard at the open door and Elizabeth was suddenly aware that Mr. Darcy was holding her hand. She pulled her hand away in embarrassment but then regretted it because the butler— Mr. Taylor if she remembered correctly— saw her. It would be perfectly acceptable for a husband to hold his wife’s hand! Elizabeth’s headache returned in full force. Each new situation seemed to draw some additional amount of strength from her.

Was it only two weeks ago that she knew who she was and how to behave? Then she had woken up each morning knowing what to expect, the only variable being the weather and her mother’s nerves. Two weeks ago her shoulders were held high and proud, not tight with tensions. And two weeks ago, Mr. Darcy was just the friend of her sister’s suitor. She realized she was being led back out of the library and took one more look back at the amazing scene behind her. Two weeks could change a lot of things.

She was somewhat in a daze as they walked back towards the front door. Her head was throbbing mercilessly. She let Mr. Darcy guide her and she could tell he was saying something to her but try as she might, she could hardly hear what he was saying. She realized they had stopped walking and she was being presented to an incredibly long line of smiling servants. Each time she was introduced to a servant, Mr. Darcy would say, “This is my wife, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy
.”
I am sure they heard you the first ten times, why must you keep repeating it?
She tried to smile and acknowledge each servant, but they all blurred together. Mr. Darcy’s speech to his servants was friendly and kind, and he seemed aware of each of their preferences and background. He would say things like, “He has served the Darcys since 1801 and has a love of apples,” or “She first started as a house maid but now runs the entire first floor but I cannot get her to let me see that darling new dimpled baby boy as much as I would like,” or “He may be a groomsman but you will never find a more avid reader.”

His kindness to his servants was almost unnerving, but remarkable all the same, as if they were a part of his family. She had never seen such a loving and kind, almost intimate, relationship between master and servant. She didn’t think she knew anything personal about Mrs. Hill back at Longbourn. At Darcy House, he seemed different. He seemed comfortable and . . . perhaps even charming? Was that what she was seeing? Her head spun a little and she held Mr. Darcy’s arm a bit more tightly. She was relieved to see the end of the row of servants. She had a new home, and saw a new side to the man she had once thought she had known as much as she wished to. She touched her hand to her aching head, forcing herself to draw in a deep breath.

“
Mr. Darcy,” she said after the staff had all been introduced, “I should greatly like to rest before dinner.”

“Of course.
I will show you to your room.” He dismissed all the servants but one. “Serafina, would you mind coming with us?” He turned to Elizabeth. “Serafina will be your personal maid while you establish yourself here. Of course, if you so desire, she can accompany us to Pemberley.”

Elizabeth nodded. She fingered the beautiful intricate bannister on the stairs. The white and grey marble floor went from the entrance all the way up to the triple wide curving staircase. The hand-carved dark mahogany floor boards shone as if just recently polished. She felt the textured walls against her fingertips. The pattern seemed to be mesmerizing.
All this beauty is now mine?
When she reached the top of the stairs she realized her gaze was fixed on the floor.
Much like my mood has been.
The stress of the last two weeks made itself known on her shoulders worse than ever. She felt so very weary after the trying day and travel. Was it really just this morning that she married Mr. Darcy? She tried to respond to something Darcy was saying, but felt a sudden wave of fatigue overcome her, causing her vision to blur. She reached out for something to steady herself but found nothing.

Darcy saw her face pale and her form swaying at the top of the stairs. He instinctively reached out for her. “Elizabeth, are you ill?” When she didn’t say anything he gestured towards Serafina. “Fetch some water and some towels.
Immediately!” Darcy reached under Elizabeth’s arms and legs and lifted her up quickly into his arms.

The feel of the closeness of his person, the spice and warmth of his scent, and the strength in his arms sent a tingle through her body. Suddenly she felt very much awake again, as if every sense were heightened. Her heart beat sharp and
fast, and she felt suddenly far too warm. She could even hear the steady rise and fall of his breathing. It did not seem to tax his strength to support her so. She wanted to put her hands to her cheeks, which now seemed to be blazing with embarrassment. “Ah, Mr. Darcy? I feel I am recovered, you may put me down now.”

At first, he had wanted nothing more than to catch her during her faint. But as Elizabeth’s color returned, her eyes brightening, all he desired was to continue to hold her. He reasoned, if he put her down, she might very well collapse again. But truthfully, it was that the absence of her in her arms would be wretched. But he must. He
didn’t wish her to feel that he would take liberties with her at any possible moment. He pressed on towards her room, his gaze fixed on her pink cheeks, his hand trying to memorize the feel of her slender waist. He should have honored her request, but instead he relished in his selfish desires. Nevertheless, it was too late now. They had reached her door. He should at least say something in recognition of her question, but what? “I believe we have made it to your room safely.” His hand let go of her waist only enough to turn the handle and enter the room.

He could place her anywhere, he knew— on the armchair by the window, at the writing desk, at the dressing table, on the fainting couch, or, of course, the bed. Almost by instinct, he stepped forward and gently placed her on the bed.

Elizabeth could not resist the temptation to laugh.
After his promise not to take me to his bed, he of course carries me to my own
!
“I do believe, Mr. Darcy, that there will be talk among the servants that you carried me off to my bed the moment you had a chance!”

A smile crept to the corners of his eyes. He stepped back and looked at that beautifully arched eyebrow and teasing smile that she was obviously trying to hold back. He couldn’t think of a thing to say in return to her lively comment, but he felt a wave of gratitude that she felt comfortable enough to speak so lightly.

Elizabeth glanced down at the floor in silence. Had she offended him? She was about to speak again when Serafina rushed in.

“Sir, the water and towels.”

Elizabeth, grateful for the distraction, turned to look at the new maid.
She was strikingly beautiful, but not in a way like Jane or any of the pretty girls at Hertfordshire. Her hair was rich and dark, and piled on her head in a simple bun. She moved gracefully, placing the towels and water down with ease. Did she detect a hint of French in her accent? She looked to be a bit older than Charlotte, Elizabeth decided, and was somehow comforted by the thought. Her thoughts were interrupted by Serafina placing a chilled towel against Elizabeth’s brow. Elizabeth let her fuss over her, her mind traveling back to a few moments ago, when Mr. Darcy had held her. She was so preoccupied that she didn’t notice Serafina removing her boots until one was fully removed.