Chapter 3 A Summer Shame

Once the entryway had cleared, she never managed to finish as Mr. Darcy broke away to open the front door himself. In the drive, their open barouche waited, covered in green and lavender silk ribbons and bouquets of flowers. Elizabeth gasped at the lovely sight. The maids behind her giggled, and she turned to see Mrs. Buchanan wiping her hands on her apron with a broad smile on her face. Elizabeth mouthed “Thank you,” and the older woman merely nodded in return.

With a shriek, Elizabeth was scooped into the arms of Mr. Darcy and carried to the barouche. “Mr. Darcy, I do believe you are supposed to carry your bride over the threshold into the house, not out of it.”

“Am I?” He gave her one of his rare dimpled smiles as they reached the barouche and he carefully released her feet onto the floorboards and reached for her hand to steady her as she took a seat. Before alighting into the open carriage himself, he doffed his hat to the Starvet House staff congregating in the doorway eliciting a tremor of cheer and applause. Using his momentum to get into the carriage, he leaned close to his Elizabeth’s ear and whispered, “When have we ever done what we’re supposed to?” The devilish man took a seat next to his bride.

Elizabeth giggled and clasped one hand of her husband as he patted with the other on the side of the carriage to motion for the driver to start. With a quick flick of the reins, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were on their way to the little hamlet of Haddington. Elizabeth relished the fresh scent of sea spray that appeared to hang in the air, but as the carriage drove further inland towards the village, new scents replaced the ocean’s mighty pull. Hawthorn and foxglove lined the gently rolling fields as Elizabeth squinted and looked up into the sun. Without turning her head, she began to speak.

“I should be hopelessly brown and coarse if you continue to insist on enjoying these sunny afternoons in an open carriage, Mr. Darcy.”

“Then I shall be hopelessly thrilled to trace the lines of your sun-kissed skin, Mrs. Darcy.”

Elizabeth pretended to be shocked but instead found herself pulled into a tight embrace as the carriage made a final turn before they came upon Haddington proper. Reluctantly, they resumed decorum, though Elizabeth still grasped Mr. Darcy’s hand with her gloved one. The arrival of such important persons as Mr. Darcy and his new wife seemed to give pause to those in the town as the carriage rolled by. No sooner had the final set of wheels passed that pedestrians began their urgent whispers and young assistants dashed around to warn their shop proprietors.

Elizabeth waited while Darcy gave instructions to the barouche, and she happily took his arm as they strolled down the edge of shops on the western side of town. “How often were you at Starvet House? The people here seem to adore your family.”

“My great-grandfather’s family owned the property for many generations. When my great uncle died without an heir, my father was next in line. Grandmother Darcy stayed in the home until she passed away, and my father brought me many summers to fish and hunt. Once my mother started falling ill, we came here less and less . . .”

“It’s a lovely home; I’m sure your father would be proud to see how it is run today.”

“Yes,” Darcy mumbled, looking around at the shop names with a furtive glance. His favorite shop for books was missing and in its place was a new store for sundry items. Steering Elizabeth inside, she was bewildered at entering a shop usually reserved for the housekeeper or maids to peruse for the supplies of the house. After the woman inside finished helping a customer, she addressed Mr. Darcy.

“Mr. Darcy, I had heard that Starvet House was open once more. My father always spoke so highly of you.”

“Your, your father? Was he Mr. Stevens?”

“Aye, he’s gone to God these many years past, and I be following in his footsteps one day, Lord willing.” The young woman smiled and pulled out a sheet of paper and mended her pen. “How I can help ye? Mrs. Buchanan already placed an order, but I am happy to augment it, sir.”

“But where are the books?”

Miss Stevens wrinkled her nose. “I sold most of them to pay for the supplies ye see here. The books, well, they didn’t sell so well, sir and after Da died, the accounts had to be settled. A sundry shop, now that’s something any family needs. And how!”

Mr. Darcy mumbled a thank you and said that Mrs. Buchanan’s order should be more than sufficient. As the Darcys left the shop, Elizabeth smiled as her poor husband became lost in his thoughts. She knew how much the sting of unexpected change could pierce a heart, so she took it upon herself to cheer him.

“Well, I liked Miss Stevens. What a clever young woman.”

“Pardon?”

“Miss Stevens. It must have been dreadful to lose a father and then find a way to keep a profit. She is mighty brave to change the shop’s offerings, but I am happy it is successful.”

Darcy ruminated on Elizabeth’s words and realized how close to her own situation Miss Stevens’ predicament had been. He offered her a nod and slight smile, which made Elizabeth laugh.

“Oh, come, Mr. Darcy, don’t be sullen about it. We’ll buy you all the books you could ever want in London. And I might even have a few contacts to allow you access to tomes not generally available to the public.”

“Oh?” he asked as he followed his wife’s direction into a sweets shop. “Pray tell madame, how do you have these contacts to the underbelly of the literary world?”

“Through my uncle of course!” Elizabeth laughed, and Darcy shook his head. With Mr. Gardiner still recovering from his accident, he had quite forgotten how successful the man’s business was in imports and exports. Watching his lithe wife purchase many sweets, Darcy was struck with a notion.

“Will you stay here, madame, while I run an errand?” Mr. Darcy brightened to see his wife’s smooth manners already make her a friend with Mrs. Rowe. The two women were chatting and laughing about something, but Darcy saw his wife’s quick nod in his direction.

When Elizabeth was ready to leave with enough candy and sweets for the children of Starvet House and the area tenant families, she exited the shop to direct the young groom to load them into the box on the back of the barouche. No sooner had she walked out of the shop than there was her gallant husband, holding a single white rose. Elizabeth caught her breath at the romantic gesture of her husband and happily accepted the single rose causing him to bring his other hand around to present a bouquet of white roses, with foxglove and hawthorn mixed in.

“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth giggled, “the villagers will think I’ve bewitched you!”

Taking her arm, the Darcys strolled leisurely back to the barouche surrounded by the fragrance of the bouquet so sweetly tendered by the new groom to his bride.

“Mrs. Darcy, if you have bewitched me, for my sake, I beg of you, never lift the spell.”

Before helping his wife into the carriage, Darcy made sure to bend down and kiss just above her glove, on her bare wrist. His young wife blushed, and both of the Darcys were quite happy to return home and forgo their afternoon picnic plans.