Chapter 39

The wedding breakfast included many of Lydia's favorite foods. Her favorite flowers decorated the table, and the cake was all that she ever hoped it might be. Had Mama planned it, not nearly so many of her preferences would have been honored. Nothing about the morning hinted back to the reasonswhy she had never expected to be the center of such a celebration.

Lizzy's warm hospitality kept the guests lingering late, but Mrs. Drummond insisted that it was time for the girls to return to the school. Sir Anthony departed as well, leaving Lydia and James standing awkwardly in the vestibule with Lizzy and Mr. Darcy.

"Perhaps, this would be a good time for you gentlemen to have that discussion you mentioned earlier. I believe there is an excellent bottle of port waiting in the study for you, courtesy of Sir Anthony."

Darcy tipped his head toward James. "That, sir, I believe is a subtle hint that our presence is no longer required. I have learned it is not a suggestion that one should ignore."

"I shall defer to your wisdom, sir." James's eyes lingered on Lydia, though.

Butterflies filled her stomach and her cheeks heated.

Lizzy slipped her arm into Lydia's. "A sisterly chat before Mr. Darcy and I depart for Derbyshire?"

It was not a question, but she nodded as though she agreed because it seemed she should.

They climbed the stairs in perfect step.

"I thought you would prefer these rooms. I had them made up for you." Lizzy opened the door and warm sunlight poured out.

Bowls of flowers filled the spacious chamber with color and fragrance.

"They are beautiful. Everything has been beautiful. I cannot thank you enough. I never imagined…"

Lizzy entered and sat on the edge of the bed. "To be entirely truthful, I did not imagine it either. Perhaps that is why it was so very pleasing to be able to do it for you. Save Mary, I have had so little connection to our family since my marriage. It was as much for me that I did this as it was for you."

"Do you miss them? I know Papa…"

"Yes, I miss even him. I know it makes no sense at all, not even to me. It probably never will."

"Did you hope he would be pleased to hear of the success of Mr. Darcy's efforts on my behalf?"

"I am a fool, I know, but I did."

"I would have liked that too."

It would have been very gratifying, but Papa never did pay her much notice. Why should that change now?

Lydia sat beside Lizzy. "They are settled now in Derbyshire, are they not? At Matlock? Is that very far from Pemberley?"

"Not at all, especially by carriage. We could see Mama and Papa quite regularly."

"But you do not."

"No. Mr. Darcy does not permit Papa on Pemberley grounds and Mama will not come without him. When we visit Matlock, he is not permitted to come to the house. His patient prospers under his care, but the Earl is not like Lady Catherine."

"You suggest we follow your suit?"

"It is entirely up to you. You must make your own way."

"What of Jane and Kitty?"

Lizzy rose and leaned her cheek against the bedpost. "It is difficult to know what to say of them. Kitty has been with Jane for months now. But I do not think either very happy. It is more what is not said in their letters than what is."

"Jane is no longer the center of attention and she is unhappy with that, I suppose. Her new life must make many demands on her that she finds taxing."

"I think, perhaps, you knew her better than I. But enough of that. Is there anything you wish to ask me?"

Lydia laughed, but it had a bitter aftertaste. "I am not untouched, you know. And he…"

"I know. He was honest with us as to his past too. Still, you are not at all anxious?"

"I love him, but this is so different to…"

"It will be different, but remember what he has promised with that ring that you wear."

Lydia stared at the unexpected ring on her finger. His mother's ring. He thought enough of her to put his mother's ring on her hand.

Lizzy grasped Lydia's hands firmly. "It takes time to become accustomed to being loved ardently. Be patient and do not assume things are as they were in Papa's house. Know that you may speak with me about anything you wish, at any time. Darcy and I will be there to support you both. I think I hear the gentlemen on the stairs."

She kissed Lydia's forehead and slipped out the door.

Lydia clutched her hands tight in her lap. Thoughts and feelings swirled around her, threatening to overwhelm. If only they would slow down so she might catch them, recognize them for what they were.

But how?

She scanned the room. Someone had piled her trunks neatly in the far corner.

She flung open the top most trunk. Her notebook and pencil case lay in the top tray. How soothing they were in her hands, just the weight of them.

Did Lizzy put the little table near the window just so she could draw there? It would be just like her.

She fell into the small chair and opened her notebook. The dusty, woody fragrance of the paper—better than any flower might impart—quieted her soul. Her pencil fit into her hand, an extension of her voice, more eloquent than words she might utter.

So many images floated in her mind, where to begin? Her pencil flew, roughing out faces, Lizzy's, Mr. Darcy's, Mrs. Drummond's, James's. That moment during the ceremony, the one she must not forget, took shape on the paper before her.

"So that was the look on my face," he whispered behind her. "I had little doubt you would put that to paper."

She set her pencil down and turned.

He was so tall, all length and angles with a shock of hair that insisted on falling into his eyes. That was how he had always been and would never change. When she had first seen him though, he had not been handsome. When had that changed?

"I wish I had your skill, to allow you to see how you look to me." He laid a hand on her shoulder.

She rose and stood very close. "But you can, in a melody. You must write the song of our wedding."

He cradled her cheek in his hand and stroked it with his thumb. "I will, but do not be surprised if it is something that should be played in company."

She looked up at him and he slowly, tenderly removed a pin from her hair.

She gasped. How could he make such an action so incredibly intimate?

Long fingers plucked a single curl from its elaborate styling. He wound it around his fingers and brought it to his lips.

She swallowed hard, lips trembling.

He leaned close to her ear and hummed. The music—or were those his fingertips—trailed along the nape of her neck, leaving heat and passion in their wake.

His cheek pressed closer, his lips near her ear, barely touching, but the song flowed on, surging with longing, but not lust, the sound of love.

Gentle fingers entwined with hers and led her to the fulfillment of both their desires.

Hours later, she lay nestled in his arms. He breathed deep and slow, slumbering. Though languid and satisfied, sleep eluded her. Being with him was nothing to what she had expected. Nothing could have prepared her to feel so …so…treasured, so complete.

He rolled to his side and tucked an arm around her waist. "What are you thinking about, Mrs. Amberson?"

Oh, how it tickled when he nuzzled her neck like that! She squirmed in his arms.

"I was wondering what you and Mr. Darcy spoke of."

"All matter of manly secrets, my dear. Apparently, you Bennet women require special care and handling. As the local expert on the art, he saw fit to impart his impressions upon me."

"And what did you learn from him?"

"That I am a very fortunate man and must remind you of that constantly for you have never been shown your true worth."

The words fell hard and heavy on her chest, so heavy she could not draw breath.

He sat up and pulled her up beside him. "I know your past, you know mine. Neither one of us wants to return, so let us promise to leave it behind. We will not be perfect, but let us make a pact to make entirely new mistakes, our own, not the ones of our ancestors or ones we have already made."

She stared at him, silhouetted in the moonlight. "I am not certain if that is brilliant or utterly daft."

"I am not sure myself, but promise me we shall find out together."

"We will."