Page 32 of Mr. Darcy's Bargain Bride
“Cook is a wise woman,” Elizabeth agreed. “Animals are a great source of joy, well worth the trouble they occasionally cause.”
“Elizabeth,” he said, turning his attention back to her, “I wonder if you might share your thoughts on the music room arrangements? I noticed you examining the instruments with some interest yesterday.”
“The pianoforte is magnificent,” she replied. “I confess I am almost afraid to play it, for fear my modest abilities will not do justice to such a fine instrument.”
“Nonsense. Music is meant to be played, not merely admired. I should enjoy hearing how the instrument sounds under skilful hands.”
“Skilful might be too generous a term,” she protested. “But I shall be happy to play sometime, if you think you can bear my amateur efforts.”
“Will you play something cheerful?” Ambrose asked hopefully. “Miss Francesca sometimes plays hymns, but they always sound rather solemn.”
“I know several lively country dances that might suit you better,” Elizabeth promised. “Though you must be prepared to help me turn the pages if the music proves challenging.”
“I should like that very much! Perhaps Papa will sing along.”
Mr Darcy smiled. “Perhaps I will.”
As Elizabeth tucked Ambrose into his bed that night, the boy’s sleepy voice carried a question that made her throat tighten with emotion. “Will you be my mama even when things are bad?”
“Always,” she pressed a kiss to his forehead, meaning every word of her promise. “Nothing will change that.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Mrs Darcy, might I have a moment of your time?” Mrs Reynolds appeared in the doorway of the morning room, where Elizabeth had been reviewing household accounts. Her expression carried the particular satisfaction of a servant with welcome news to impart.
A few days had passed since the ominous arrival of Wickham’s letter, yet life at Pemberley had settled into rhythms that felt surprisingly natural. Elizabeth set aside her ledger, grateful for the interruption. Managing the domestic arrangements of such a grand establishment had initially seemed daunting, but she was discovering both competence and pleasure in the role.
“Certainly, Mrs Reynolds. I hope all is well?”
“Indeed, madam. I wish to inform you that the new linens you ordered from Derby have arrived and are of exceptional quality. The maids are most impressed—they say they have never worked with such fine materials. You have an excellent eye for household matters.”
The compliment pleased Elizabeth more than she might have expected. “I am glad they meet with approval. I confess I relied heavily on your guidance in making the selections.”
“Oh no, madam. The choices were entirely your own. I merely provided information about our usual suppliers. Your decisions show both practical wisdom and consideration for those who must work with the materials daily.”
After Mrs Reynolds departed, she returned to her accounts with renewed satisfaction. The respect she had earned from the household staff meant more to her than she had anticipated. These people, who had served the Darcy family for years, had welcomed her not merely as their master’s wife but as someone worthy of their regard.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter drifting in from the gardens. Through the window, she could see Ambrose racing across the grounds with a wooden hoop, his delighted shrieks punctuating the morning air. Since their arrival at Pemberley, the boy had bloomed like a flower in rich soil. The anxious edge that had marked his demeanour during the crisis with Wickham had faded, replaced by the carefree joy natural to his age.
“Lizzy! Lizzy, come and see!” His voice carried clearly as he spotted her at the window. “I’ve learned to keep the hoop rolling all the way to the fountain!”
She waved in acknowledgement, her heart swelling with affection for this child who had claimed such a central place in her life. Their bond had deepened with each passing day, built through countless small moments—bedtime stories, scraped knees requiring comfort, geography lessons that turned into imaginative adventures. He had begun calling her ‘Mama’ with increasing frequency, the title slipping out naturally during moments of excitement or distress.
The transformation in their little household had not gone unnoticed beyond Pemberley’s walls. During her regular excursions to Lambton for shopping and social calls, she had been struck by the warmth of her reception among the local tradespeople and villagers. Unlike the stiff deference typically shown to the mistress of a great estate, their manner expressed pleasure in her company.
“Mrs Darcy!” Mrs Patterson, the baker’s wife, had greeted her just yesterday. “How delightful to see you again. I trust Master Ambrose enjoyed the gingerbread soldiers I sent up to the house?”
“He was thoroughly enchanted by them,” Elizabeth had replied. “Though I fear he declared war on the entire regiment and devoured them systematically.”
The woman’s delighted laughter had drawn smiles from other customers, creating an atmosphere of easy fellowship that Elizabeth treasured. She had discovered true satisfaction in these simple interactions, finding the villagers’ straightforward honesty a refreshing contrast to the calculating conversations that dominated fashionable society.
Her integration into the community had accelerated when word spread of her practical approach to charitable endeavours. Rather than making monetary donations from a comfortable distance, she visited the families in need herself, offering not just financial assistance but concern for their circumstances. The local vicar had commented with obvious approval that Pemberley had not seen such hands-on involvement from its mistress in many years.
The morning’s peaceful routine was broken by Mr Darcy’s appearance in the doorway, his expression carrying the particular satisfaction of a man who had concluded his business affairs successfully.
“I have finished with my correspondence earlier than expected,” he announced. “The weather remains fine, and I wondered if you might care to join Ambrose and me for an expedition into Lambton. The harvest festival commences today, and I suspect our young gentleman would enjoy the festivities.”
Elizabeth’s face brightened at the suggestion. “What a lovely idea. I have heard much talk of the festival during my visits to the village. The preparations have been quite elaborate.”
