Another snippet

Since Kellea asked, here is a little snippet from Vol. III. It is Christmas day, nearly three months after Darcy and Elizabeth’s wedding, and the Gardiners are at Pemberley for the holidays (no guarantees it won’t be rewritten before I’m done, though).


Epilogue


Elizabeth left her dressing room and went in search of her recent acquisition; she found him seated in the breakfast-room, quietly reading the paper along with her Uncle Gardiner. The two men rose as she entered, and she was kissed first by her uncle, then more spiritedly by her husband.

“I worry about your husband, my dear,” said her uncle as he seated himself and lifted the paper again. “His colour is off, and he does not eat enough to suit me: I fear you may be over-taxing him—in his duties as host during Christmastide, I mean.”

Elizabeth sat down on Darcy’s knee and stole a bite of toast from his plate. “He is keeping up his strength quite well, I assure you, Uncle,” said she, with a contented smile. “You may trust that I am quite attentive to his needs, and his strength.” Her relation cocked a reproving eye at this, but chuckled good-humouredly. Elizabeth rose and went to her place at table; Reynolds brought her a cup of tea, murmuring a “Good morning, Ma’am.”

“Good morning, Reynolds. Is your back at all better?” she asked with concern.

“Yes, thank you very much, Madam. That plaster was a vast help, and I slept well for the first time in weeks; amazing.”

Elizabeth patted his arm, smiling up at him. “I am so glad; it always worked for my father.”

“Yes, Madam; thank you again.”

“Where is my aunt?” she asked Mr. Gardiner.

“She is somewhere about,” he said. “She finished breakfast and, tiring of watching the two of us read and dawdle, she went off in search of occupation.”

“It will be time for services before too long,” Elizabeth pointed out.

“Yes, my dear, I am sure she will not have forgotten Morning Service on Christmas Day,” Mr. Gardiner said wryly.

“Gardiner,” Darcy spoke up from behind his paper, “have you any idea where my wife got this notion that no one is capable of running their lives without her help?”

“Certainly not from my side of the family,” he said. “Yet it seems unlikely to have come through my brother Bennet: perhaps my sister had outside help.”

“I shall throw something at you in a moment,” Elizabeth warned him.

“And where did she pick that up?” queried her uncle.

“Ah…that comes from my side,” Darcy admitted. “I throw things: pillows, and rolls and such; and my aunt has been known to throw a spoon with deadly accuracy.”

“Charming,” said Mr. Gardiner wryly.

“Is not it?” put in Elizabeth with pleasure. “I do adore these little habits of the ton; it gives one so much more latitude of expression in daily life.”