When Mr. Travers and Mrs. Smyth entered the room mere seconds later, it was obvious that the former was confused at the abrupt summons, whereas the latter was abundantly aware. Darcy was sitting behind his desk with Lizzy standing to his right.
In a deceptively mild tone, Darcy asked, “Do either of you have any doubts or reservations as to my supreme authority in this house?”
Mr. Travers was shocked. “Of course not, Mr. Darcy!”
Mrs. Smyth was pale as a ghost and trembling. “No, Mr. Darcy.”
“Very good. I shall be as intelligible and succinct as I possibly can be. Mrs. Darcy is of near equal stature and authority to me in every single aspect. Her dictates are law, to be respected and executed as you would for me. She is the Mistress of Pemberley and Darcy House, and is to be honored as this station decrees. Any deviation from this reality, even in the minutest degree, will be grounds for instantaneous dismissal. Is any of this ambiguous?”
His penetrating and fierce gaze bore into Mrs. Smyth throughout the entire speech. Mr. Travers may be ignorant of the specific instigation of his Master's statement, but he was no idiot. That Mrs. Smyth had in some manner foolishly acted on or vocalized her disdain for Mr. Darcy's choice of wife was obvious. Mr. Travers did not concur with the housekeeper's opinion and had grown weary of cautioning her. He hesitated nary a second, loudly and precisely confirming his comprehension and loyalty. Mrs. Smyth readily agreed as well, voice tremulous.
“I shall leave it to each of you to inform the members of your staff as to what has been proclaimed here. Mr. Travers, you may be excused.” He bowed and departed. Darcy rose to his feet, eyes never faltering. “Mrs. Smyth, there are two reasons you are not at this second packing your belongings and exiting this house. One is your years of faithful and competent service to Darcy House, of which I am thankful. However, this reason would hold little weight in light of today's events if Mrs. Darcy had not already granted you mercy. She has deemed to bestow her clemency, and I will bow to this. Be warned, this mercy will be withdrawn at the merest hint of you disobeying my orders. Is this understood?”
The relationship between Lizzy and Mrs. Smyth would never be a friendly one, and the housekeeper offered her challenges. There were moments when Lizzy did wonder if it would be easier to fire the woman and start anew, but in the end, she did manage the household excellently, and as the Darcys would not be dwelling in the city often, it was best to maintain the status quo.
Generally speaking, Lizzy needed to make few adjustments to the management of Darcy House. The ledgers were in perfect order and the staff assignments were adequate. An additional gardener was hired to assist the two who managed the grounds. Lizzy spoke at length with them, as there were a number of areas she wanted altered. Specifically, she completely redesigned the private garden and patio located next to the Master's chambers to include a gurgling fountain, potted and hanging flowers, a vine of wisteria along the right edge for further privacy, and extensive trimming of the large elm tree that blocked their view of the nighttime sky. The old brick wall was removed and replaced with one of cobbled river stones to match the patio and a wrought iron gate placed to access the meandering gravel pathways beyond.
Lizzy interviewed each lead staff member. She encouraged open communication, and before her first sojourn would end, each one of them accepted the honesty of her offer, and learned when she was approached with requests, most of which were granted. Mrs. Smyth frowned upon what she deemed a usurping of her power, but Lizzy ignored her. Minor budget issues were addressed. Darcy had tended to allow Mrs. Smyth to spend as she saw fit, generously allotting monies without asking too many questions. This was not a result of mismanagement or laziness on his part, but as the overall budget for Darcy House was substantially less than Pemberley, he simply did not consider it worth worrying about. Lizzy was frugal by nature and due to her upbringing, instinctively noticed dozens of tiny ways that funds could be redistributed. The end product was a savings to the estate while simultaneously leading to a smoother household execution. Even Mrs. Smyth grudgingly admitted the fact. Darcy was further amazed, and his already exalted esteem for his wife grew.
Helen, to Lizzy's dismay, was unrepentant. It seemed that a brother died in the recently triumphant difficulties with France. As sad as this fact was, it certainly was not Marguerite's fault. France may be the country of her birth, but she had lived the past twenty years in England, longer than Helen, in truth, as she was a mere seventeen! In this matter, she appealed to her husband.
“She cannot stay with an attitude such as this,” Darcy declared calmly. “I will not allow Marguerite to be treated thus, and one maid is much the same as any other. I will take care of it.”
Lizzy squirmed in her seat, finally standing to pace before his desk. “William, I…” She sighed, wringing her hands nervously while he frowned. “I should deal with this myself. Mistress of Pemberley and all that.” She waved her hand airily with a tiny giggle.
Darcy smiled, rising to halt her pacing with gentle hands on her shoulders. “Elizabeth, you do not have to handle this sort of problem. Trust me, I have let many employees go over the years. I am quite good at it, in fact.” He laughed and kissed her forehead.
Lizzy shook her head with a soft chuckle. “Somehow I doubt that, love. You bluster and pretend, but facing a seventeen year old girl and telling her she is out of a job will not be easy for you.” She tiptoed to kiss his cheek and then moved a pace away before continuing. “That is not the point. Household staff is under my jurisdiction and since this directly concerns my personal maid, I need to cope with it. Just teach me how such a matter is properly dealt with, advise me, and I will manage it.”
“Very well, Mistress Darcy.” He took her hand and pulled her next to him on the sofa. “I will gladly share my brutal techniques, but first let me tell you once again how marvelous you are and how proud you make me.” He nuzzled into her neck, Lizzy giggling anew at the ticklish bites.
“This is a brutal technique, Mr. Darcy? I certainly hope not a typical tactic utilized by you when firing maids.” Darcy merely laughed, tickling further and saving the Masterly counsel for a later hour.
Lizzy attended to the matter with fortitude and dignity. Only later did she break down with trembles, comforted by her husband who was immeasurably swollen with pride. It was another step taken by the new Mrs. Darcy into the greater world of estate administration.
DARCY, REGALLY DRESSED in head-to-toe black except for a pristine white shirt and cravat, stood before the empty fireplace in the parlor with an expansive grin on his face. His sister, with assistance from Kitty, was relating an adventure with the ducks that live on the little pond in Hyde Park. He had never noted it in the past, but his shy baby sister apparently had developed a flair for the dramatic as well. He rather doubted chasing ducks could be as riveting as she was presenting it, but between her and Kitty's gales of laughter and charade-like pantomiming, he was tremendously amused and Richard was actually wiping tears from his eyes. Of course, Richard was easily entertained.
The girls delighted them with their silly exploits while they awaited the appearance of Mary and Elizabeth. Tonight was the opera, and proper preparation was of the utmost importance. The men understood this, and as Marguerite had happily volunteered to style the hair of all four women, well, it could take some time. Georgiana, in a new gown for the occasion and hair pinned elaborately with a diamond clip, was beautiful. With a pang to his heart, Darcy recognized the woman lurking under the girlish exterior of his beloved sister.
Miss Kitty was equally as lovely. Lizzy had purchased several new gowns for both her sisters from her pin money, a fact which had irritated Darcy because he would have willingly and happily provided for them, but Lizzy insisted. They actually had a minor argument over her choice, but she would not budge.
“William, I did not marry you to furnish necessities for my family,” she had declared firmly.
“I understand this, Elizabeth. However, when I marri
ed you, I voluntarily accepted your family as my own, as did you with Georgiana and the rest.”
“Accepted, yes, but not charged to support. You allot me far more money than I can possibly spend on myself, so I desire to do this for my sisters. It is not your place.”
“Not my place! This offends me, Elizabeth. They are my sisters now, and therefore, it is my place.”
“Technicalities, Mr. Darcy. Are you next going to offer financial support to my father? Buy his wardrobe? Furthermore, imagine the Pandora's box you would be opening if my mother found out you were lavishing the girls, and lavish you would, William. Suddenly the ‘needs’ would escalate and Pemberley would be bankrupt in a month!”
Darcy certainly could not argue regarding her mother and was aghast at the very idea of insulting his proud, distinguished father-in-law. Nonetheless, he felt slighted somehow and it irritated him. “I will not deny a couple of your points, my dear; however, I still maintain a dress or two is hardly beyond my responsibility.”
“Consider it this way, beloved. You are supporting them by guesting them in your house…”
“Our house,” he interrupted with a glare.
“Our house,” she resumed with a smile, “and the money to purchase clothing and trinkets for them is coming from your coffers, simply via me. So, everyone is happy!”
He hated it when she utilized perfect logic! It continued to annoy him in a vague way he could not quite identify, but any further attempts to change her mind were met with increased stubbornness and an argument, so he finally relented. The gown that Kitty had chosen was remarkable and her hair equally as stunning, accented with one of Elizabeth's ruby hair combs. Kitty was an adorable young girl to Darcy's eyes. She did not look like his wife, but they had the same coloring and hair. She possessed the identical effervescent quality that Elizabeth did and was very witty. Without Lydia to negatively influence her and with the positive, steady persuasion of Mary and now Georgiana, Kitty had mellowed. Her giddiness was slowly replaced with a pleasant charm and grace. Alas, she still did not boast the intelligence of her three older sisters.
Kitty and Georgiana completed their tale, Richard yet chuckling, when Elizabeth and Mary simultaneously entered the room. Elizabeth, in her ultimate Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy regalia, was breathtaking. Normally Darcy's eyes would have been captured as the whole world faded from view. Tonight, however, it was Mary demanding immediate awe. It was not in any way that she was more stunning than Elizabeth; it was the shock of Mary adorned in anything other than a somber gray or black! Her gown was fashionable, with a daring scooped neckline and bared shoulders, a pale pink and sky blue satin with embossed roses over the lower third of the skirt. Her thick, lustrous black hair was pulled up with a half bonnet detailed with matching roses and feathers adorning. Her lips were painted a rosy pink and a faint dash of rouge highlighted her cheekbones. Darcy had never realized how beautiful she was, and Richard's eyes were bulging.
Elizabeth was beaming with pride and Mary was blushing under the intense scrutiny. “Oh, Mary!” Georgiana gushed, dashing to her friend and clasping her hands. “You are stunning! Did I not tell you these colors would be wonderful?”
Elizabeth edged over to her husband, allowing the girls to enthuse. Darcy turned to his radiant wife, freshly rendered awestruck at her sultry elegance. Her gown of scarlet satin was equally as daring, the tops of shapely breasts visible and creamy shoulders bare. The gauzy satin pleated under the bosom with a glittery white ribbon, fell smooth and snug over her abdomen to her toes. The satin gathered into a loose bustle over her buttocks with the same white ribbon sash forming an elaborate bow before diverging into a dozen tails plummeting to the floor. There were no sleeves to speak of: the shimmering ribbon braided with a strip of the scarlet fabric formed a narrow band which edged the top of the bodice and V-shaped back, swept over her upper arms in three individual laces and crossed over the entire back in an intricate pattern. She wore a scarlet and white turban adorned with tiny crystals and a plumed white feather, hair braided, curled, and cascading over her left shoulder. At her throat rested a strand of square cut diamonds with an exquisite round ruby pendant, and rubies graced her ears.
Privately, Darcy never thought his wife more beautiful than when her hair was tumbling down her back and shoulders, a transparent nightgown or chemise clinging to her womanly form, and delicate face flushed with desire. At times, he yearned to see her again in the simple country dresses she had worn at Hertfordshire when her natural luminance and svelte shape had been the focus. Luckily for him, the bulk of her everyday dresses, although of finer quality and style, remained humble and unadorned. Lizzy, like her husband, preferred minimalism and comfort.
Despite the predilection for economy of dress, Lizzy had rapidly embraced the necessity and joy of sophisticated splendor and elegance. She may retain some naïveté regarding the nuances of society, but she did understand the importance of this evening as her first official appearance as Mrs. Darcy in London. Therefore, her attire from top to bottom had been agonized over. The end result was stupendous. As was always the case when Darcy encountered his wife after an absence, no matter how brief, the need to touch and kiss her overwhelmed him. She could have been wearing a canvas sack and he would have experienced the same desire. Add in the resplendency of a gown and jewels, and it was unbearable.
Placing a hand lightly on her elbow, he steered unobtrusively out the side door into the billiard room. Closing the door firmly and leaning against it, he clasped her waist and drew her toward him for a deep kiss. Eventually pulling away, he feathered fingertips over her shoulders and neck. “I beg your forgiveness, my heart. It was early morning since last I avowed my ardent, consuming love for you.”
“True, beloved; however, you declared your love so spectacularly that I am yet tingling from the expression. There is no dereliction to pardon unless you fail to comment on my gown. The intention, after all, was to dazzle you. Either I have erred in my choice or you shall be in serious trouble.”
Darcy laughed lowly. “Your choice is perfection, my love. You are perfection.” He trailed one finger along her bodice. “I will confess to some hesitation and jealousy over any other observing so much of your delightful flesh.”
“Yet I belong to you, dearest, and only you shall ever view all of me.” She smiled. “Truthfully, William, am I presentable? I wish you to be proud of me.”
He cupped her face and kissed tenderly then smiled archly. “You place a dilemma before me, love. If I profess my irrepressible pride in all aspects, internal and external, which attribute to your flawlessness and that you are mine, then you may again accuse me of being arrogant and haughty. However, if I do not extol your exquisite beauty, impeccable character, and sparkling personality, I would be false and—what was it—be in ‘serious trouble’?”
She laughed. Pressing into his body with hands traveling over his derriere, she responded with an absorbing kiss. They were interrupted moments later by a rap to the door behind Darcy's head.
“Pardon the intrusion, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, but we should be leaving now. Unless, of course, you have decided to forego the opera in lieu of alternate pastimes?”
“We shall be there shortly, Richard. Go away.”
“As you command, cousin.” Lizzy was suppressing her giggles. Darcy tarried for another kiss and then offered an arm to his wife.
The society rumor mill had run full force during the immediate months after the engagement of Mr. Darcy to the penniless country girl of low rank. With some sadness and chagrin, but mostly joy at the fodder for juicy gossip, the topic of Darcy's choice was premier. It had ebbed somewhat after a month or so, only to flame anew at the announcement of the intimate nuptials in Hertfordshire, of all places. Then, with the populace dispersal for the winter and early spring, the chatter had died completely. As the influx of the elite increased in May, the mystery of the Darcy marriage and long absence from Town had resurged as a discussion point. The curiosity of it all was too succulent
a morsel to ignore completely; however, after six months, there were dozens of torrid affairs far more interesting to chatter about. Even the crushed unmarried debutantes of the ton had turned their gazes elsewhere. Only in the past week, as the awareness of the Darcys’ residence had gradually filtered through the parlors of Mayfair and St. James's Place, did the gossip freshly rage. The question of why the seclusion at Pemberley for six long months and now the week-plus relative isolation was speculated with relish. Those fortunate souls who had been introduced to the new Mrs. Darcy when fortuitously encountering her while shopping were the celebrities of the inner circle.
Therefore, the fervor of interest was high. No one knew when or if she would formally make her entrance, but every last person prayed they would be present when she did. Thus it was with the crowd currently amassing in the grand foyer and reception hall of the Royal Theatre. Would this be the night? Of course, as with all society events, there were always a plenteous number of glittering personages of eminent importance to ogle and fawn over. The appearance of the Prime Minister, the famous boxer John Jackson, and the Russian Ambassador Count von Lieven with his wife, the famous Countess von Lieven, had already fanned the fires of excitement.
When the Darcy carriage finally crept to the front of the line, word had already begun to spread. Naturally, curiosity was high, but the talent involved with sating one's inquisitiveness while not observably appearing to do so was an art form well honed by the elite. Lizzy, ignorant of this skill, was hence spared the blatant stares which she had been expecting, enabling her to relax as she mounted the steps on her proud husband's arm.
A dashing and softly smiling Darcy escorted both his wife and sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam, resplendent in dress uniform, gladly lent his arms to Mary and Kitty. Lord and Lady Matlock stood outside the massive doors under the Corinthian columned portico in conversation with an elegant couple. The Earl noted their approach first, turning with a smile.