A Morning Ride

Part I

Mr. Darcy was a happy man. He was, at last complete. No matter that it was 8 o'clock in the morning. No matter he left Elizabeth fast asleep. No matter he was riding to Lambton to settle a piddling dispute. The rain last evening left the morning refreshing. It sparkled. Oh, how could anything be wrong in the world? The flowers in bloom, birds singing - it was to be another perfect day for he and his wife.

"My God," he mumbled, "I sound like Bingley."

"Sir?" James cleared his throat.

"Oh um, yes...It is a beautiful morning is it not, eh James?

"Aye, Sir it is indeed."

James could not look in the direction of his master. He had often experienced Mr. Darcy's ill morning moods, and had expected as much this morning. Perhaps the events of last evening...

What that? Mr. Darcy humming a tune?

James looked beyond the hayfield in order to stifle a grin. Oh Mr. Darcy, thought James. He knew about last evening. He himself had watched Mr. and Mrs. Darcy playing like two children in the rain. But it was this morning when he learned of the staffs behavior. Mrs. Reynolds was flustered. Always loyal she instructed the staff to: "Put the incident out of your heads. Never think of it again."

She confessed, however, to her old friend "I am tired of repeating myself..."

Part II

"James?"

"Yes Sir"

"You and Mary have been married fifteen years?"

"That's right sir."

Darcy peered into his future. What changes would occur in his life over the next fifteen years? How many children would call him Papa? Would he and Elizabeth be as happy as they are now? Yes - he was sure of that. But he wanted to remember Elizabeth as she is now. He must have a portrait commissioned! But his beloved had declared she had "used all my patience" when sitting for the miniature that was his wedding gift from her. He had tried to persuade her into a sitting several months ago, but she declared she "could not possibly sit for a formal portrait at the moment!" Um, a green silk gown...to bring out her eyes...her fine eyes...would that change her mind? He decided to order the gown then and there. From M. d'Accordyeux's Paris salon. Elizabeth had several of his patterns...and he knew which one...

Suddenly the day seemed very warm. He would have to take a cool refreshing bath upon his return.

Part III

The business in Lambton complete, Darcy instructed James to ride ahead and have his valet prepare a bath. As James rode off, Mr. Darcy was approached by Mrs. Markham and her daughter Aimee in their carriage. She was offering profuse thanks for past kindnesses. It was generally acknowledged that Mrs. Markham had married beneath her station, and Darcy heretofore, found her company difficult to tolerate. Yet he was still in the best of moods and approached. To his great surprise he found himself enjoying the pleasantries.

"Mrs. Darcy is such a joy." declared Mrs. Markham, "She has been most attentive to little Aimee."

"And how are you feeling today Aimee?" asked Mr. Darcy with a most sympathetic look. Aimee blushed and could not meet his gaze. For years she admired him from afar. Her mother kindly rescued the conversation.

"Her leg is mending nicely. Keeping her still has been a chore. The books and supplies delivered by your wife helped greatly. Aimee is working a sampler, but has found a talent for writing. Today is her first outing."

Mr. Darcy ventured "Then perhaps the accident has a bright side?"

"Why yes, my thoughts exactly" Mrs. Markham had never seen him so animated. She ventured an invitation to a dinner. Mr. Darcy smiled and agreed to everything. He made his departure riding towards Pemberley reflecting upon the change Mrs. Markham had recently undergone.

Mrs. Markham decided to send a note around to Mrs. Darcy immediately. She was exceeding pleased with the effect Mrs. Darcy was having on the son of her late cousin Thomas Darcy.

Part IV

Mr. Darcy ran up the back stairs -hot and damp - owing to his ride from Lambton. Knowing his staff's efficiency he did not announce himself, instead going straight to the large water room. Anticipating his bath, he removed his coat, and began unbuttoning his vest. He was startled by Abigail's presence in the anteroom.

"Sir!" she exclaimed, hardly above a whisper. The master was carrying his coat and vest in one hand and tugging at his cravat with the other.

"What are you doing here Abigail?"

"I wait on my Mistress, sir"

Holding his finger to his lips, his dismissed the confused girl. "But sir, her hair..." She motioned to her hair, sighed and marched towards the door.

"Abigail, let's wash my hair now." It was her mistress, but Abigail did not hesitate. Master had that look in his eyes. As she was closing the door. Abigail heard the master chuckle, "Yes Mum?"

Elizabeth did not flex one muscle. "Abigail you sound very much like my husband. But his manners are implacable and he would never interrupt a lady's bath."

FitzFitzwilliamiam closed the door and latched it. He breathed in the perfume of roses. Red long stemmed roses were in several vases placed around the room. Rose petals were strewn about the floor and in the water. It was intoxicating, stronger than any wine or spirit he had ever tasted. He slowly walked to the window to regain his composure.

"My dear, I am here only to wash your hair, Abigail left suddenly. My own bath is waiting in the smaller room."

Elizabeth, unmoving, her hands draped gracefully over the edges of the shinny tub, slowly cut her eyes towards her husband. "If I believed you capable of only washing my hair, I would allow you."

They could hear movement in the other chamber. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.

"My water." explained FitzFitzwilliamiam

Elizabeth burst out laughing. "I find you very amusing just now FitzFitzwilliamiam. You look to be a school boy, that mock innocent look on your face!" Indeed, with his head tilted down to one side, fidgeting with his ring, he appeared not to have anticipated Lizzyzie's reaction to his entering the room.

"I suppose, Fitzwilliam, you dismissed Abigail."

"I suppose I did."

"Well, someone has to assist me. Fetch an ewer of water and wet down my hair." She seemed almost angry. I have made a mistake, FitzFitzwilliamiam thought to himself. He sat down on a small stool beside the tub, and rolled up his sleeves.

FitzFitzwilliamiam followed her directions with extreme difficulty. A small amount of shampoo...again the scent of roses...lather it in the palms first...so slippery..."

"Are you listening" she demanded.

"Yes." This was a new experience for him. He closed his eyes and imagined the gardens or the conservatory...

"Begin at the top and work your way down."

"What?" He blushed! For a moment..."Yes dear"

The sensations - thousands of tiny soft bubbles, long strands of silky hair...the scent he would forever associate with his Lizzy... He softly kissed her shoulder. His task master insisted on attention to her hair.

"My dear" he murmured, " I am having some difficulty concentrating."

She reached up with her dainty hands, "This way, Fitzwilliam." After a moment their hands slipped upon one another. She turned into him, drawing his wet soapy hands down her shoulders and arms.

"So you are not angry with me?" Fitzwilliam's large brown eyes opened wide.

"No, I never was." Lizzy giggled. "Do you really think these roses are just for me?"

"How did you know ?" Her husband was amazed.

"I have my ways." Lizzy answered lightly, "Fitzwilliam, are you not somewhat overdressed for a bath?"

Pulling Lizzy's face close to his, Fitzwilliam whispered, "My little mermaid, I was beginning to think you did not care to notice." His lips brushed her cheek... Mr. and Mrs. Darcy went for their customary walk later that afternoon.

By eight that evening the newlyweds were exhausted and fell asleep.

The End

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