Page 128 of A Searing Acquaintance
They canvassed the media room where Charles, Rich, and Alex Gardiner were engrossed in a spy thriller. They made inquiries about giraffe sightings in the kitchen where Jane, Mary, and Katie were sipping wine but could offer only sympathetic noises.
“Don’t worry, son,” Darcy said in a soft voice. “I hid Raffi once too at our house in London. It took two days, but we finally found him.”
“Twowholedays? Your dad must have been really mad!” Ian said, his voice hushed but stronger.
“He was disappointed in me. But it all turned out all right.”
They walked into the library where the Darcys’ decade of married life had filled nearly every spare inch of already crowded bookshelves. Two novels, their spines stating they were authored by Elizabeth Bennet Darcy, were displayed prominently above a shelf filled with photo albums. The newest editions were nine well-thumbed, digitally printed volumes, with a tenth splayed open on the sofa.
Darcy glanced at it, open to a page that brought back memories appropriate to the weekend. He smiled at the photo of him and Elizabeth, married three days, sitting on a grassy hill in the Tuscan countryside. Leaning down to read the caption his wife had penned, he spied a fuzzy, polka-dotted neck crammed underneath a pillow. He called his son over to handle giraffe reconnaissance while he returned the photo album to its proper place.
Ferdinand trailed behind as father and son made their way up the stairs to reunite Raffi with his owner. Darcy picked up Ian and moved carefully into the darkened nursery, around the well-loved rocking horse and dollhouse, and over to the smallest of four occupied beds. He lowered the boy to the floor and crouched down next to him before brushing the hair off his daughter’s face and gently pullingGoodnight Moonfrom her hands.
“Gracie,” Ian whispered. “Here’s Raffi. Sorry.” He thrust the giraffe at her.
The little girl barely opened her eyes. “You’re naughty, Ian Bennet Darcy. But s’okay.” She yawned and took Raffi. “Night-night.”
Darcy leaned over, kissed her cheek, and pulled up the covers. Ian took his hand and followed him to his own room where R.J. was fast asleep.
“I don’t think she’s mad at me anymore, Dad,” Ian whispered as he climbed into bed.
“You did a good job, mate. I’ll tell Mommy about your ace detective skills.”
After he turned on a nightlight in the hallway, Darcy wandered downstairs to find his wife. He stepped into the living room to turn on a lamp, illuminating the large room, and heard the sounds of voices outside around the fire pit and billiard balls clacking in the game room. He headed down the wide hallway, glancing up, as he often did, at the family portrait Elizabeth had convinced him belonged here with thisfamily rather than in London. When the children were older, they might spend time at Darcy House, but with the arrival of their third child earlier this year, such trips were further off in time. That was fine; they had everything they needed right here.
He found Elizabeth alone in the darkened kitchen, making tea. She glanced back and smiled at him.
“Raffi returned uninjured? Kids asleep?”
“Yes and yes. Poor thing was hidden headfirst in the sofa cushions in the library.” He stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Gracie will likely need us to bandage his neck in the morning.”
Elizabeth laughed softly. “Those Nurse Darcy skills will never grow rusty.”
“Medical attention must be paid, even to the smallest and most inanimate among us, sweetheart.” He brushed her hair aside and tickled her neck with his lips. “I will never turn down a game of doctor with you.”
Elizabeth leaned back into her husband. “Mmmmm. And I’ll be your best patient ever.”
The kettle’s whistle blew, and he loosened his hold on her. “Tea?” she asked. At his nod, she poured a second cup.
“Were you looking at photo albums?” he asked.
“It was all the girls.” Elizabeth turned back to face him, smiling at the memory of the Bingley girls re-enacting the wedding with Jamie, Mary’s son, as the reluctant groom. “They were excited for anniversary cupcakes and wondered about our honeymoon.”
Darcy sighed and rubbed his neck. “Remind me why we have so many friends, family, and acquaintances here, right now? It’s our anniversary.”
“Will…”
“I want to have my way with you.”
Elizabeth laughed, amused by his grouchy countenance. “Patience, my love. It’s just past eight o’clock, you know.”
“I’m old and tired. I have gray hair,” he grumbled.
“One. You have one gray hair, honey.” She smoothed his hair back and twirled a finger in the thick waves. “If it bothers you, we’ll dye it…maybe Yankee blue,” she said airily. “Oh, or Meryton orange! You can finally be Rich’s twin.”
“Oh shush. Darcy men are not gingers.”
She stepped closer, and her husband pulled her into his arms. Hisfingers found the soft skin under her shirt and began roaming. “Did the girls ask you about the caption you wrote on that picture?” he asked. “‘At last, the perfect lasagna’?”
