Happy Birthday, Mr. Darcy
Summary: Elizabeth Bennet discovers the date of Mr. Darcy's birthday and plans a special surprise.
Setting: Evening at Longbourn some two weeks after the engagement of the Bennet sisters.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MR. DARCY--------
Dinner had finished, the young couples had taken their evening stroll about the grounds, and now reposed in the parlor. It had become a sort of routine these past two weeks, although on occasion Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy had hosted their fiancés at Netherfield.
Mr. Darcy, as always, felt an odd mixture of supreme elation to be with his Elizabeth and annoyance at the presence of the members of her family. Mary was in the other room pounding out a particularly morbid tune on the old pianoforte. Kitty was off somewhere, probably playing with her puppy, Mr. Darcy supposed. Jane and Bingley sat on the other sofa in placid companionship. Mr. Bennet sat hunched in the corner chair, alternately reading as he sipped his port and gazing with amused pleasure at his two eldest daughters. Mrs. Bennet bustled about the room, chattering constantly, and being ignored by all.
Mr. Darcy sat in one corner of the sofa, a book in his lap propped on a pillow, a glass of brandy in his other hand. Elizabeth sat next to him, close enough to feel her warmth and catch an occasional whiff of her perfume, yet not actually touching him. She was bent diligently over her embroidery, her luscious neck arched and oh so very tantalizing.
Mr. Darcy shifted uncomfortably, his musings again assaulting his self control, and forced his eyes to the page in front of him. He momentarily could not remember his place and when he did, he realized that he had read the same paragraph at least a dozen times and had no idea what it said. In fact, he who could normally devour a book in a handful of days, had been attempting to read this one for some two months! To make matters worse, the truth was he had absolutely no clue what the book was even about. He sighed. In point of fact, he hadn't managed to complete a book since Rosings. He kept picking up a different one, telling himself that the book was at fault when he patently knew that was not the root cause of his distraction.
He managed to focus attention enough to finish the current page but was again distracted when Elizabeth stretched her neck and brought one delicate hand up to rub her muscles. How he yearned to be the one massaging her aching shoulders! The mental image caused him to grip his glass so tightly his fingers turned white. The all too familiar clench in his groin made him abundantly thankful he had a pillow on his lap. To his increased mortification he glanced up to see Mr. Bennet staring at him over the top of his book with a wise smile. Mr. Darcy flushed and quickly turned his eyes to his book.
He wondered if Elizabeth experienced any of the same discomfort he did. The few chaste kisses they had indulged in had been welcomed by her and, he was convinced, enjoyed. He was confident of her love for him but was unsure of it's depth. He chided himself for doubting her or for expecting too much too soon. His love, his passionate ardor for her, was of long standing. It often seemed as if he could hardly remember a time when she had not lived in his heart and soul. He understood that her affection for him was more recent and therefore perhaps not as profound. He was willing to give her time.
He would have been quite surprised, therefore, to discover the train of her thoughts. His nearness was frankly driving her mad. Strange sensations threatened to overwhelm her. Every time he took a sip of his brandy, she felt a stab of emotion not unlike jealousy! The memory of each and every time his lips had touched hers was etched in her mind. The six weeks remaining of their engagement seemed an eternity.
“Mr. Darcy,” she asked abruptly, “the book you are reading, is it an interesting one?”
Darcy jumped slightly when she spoke. He looked up into her amazing eyes and time stopped. He had no idea what she had said. “I beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth. What did you say?”
She smiled, “I asked if the book you are reading is interesting.”
“Oh! Yes. Quite interesting.” He answered lamely.
“Do you think it would be of interest to me? You know how I enjoy reading. Improves the mind, you understand.”
Darcy laughed softly, “Yes, it does.”
“So, then you believe I may glean value from reading your book? When you are finished, naturally.”
“If you wish, Miss Elizabeth. I would be delighted to lend it to you.”
“I assume it must be a particularly fascinating story. Or possibly it may be too deep for my young mind to comprehend.”
He was puzzled, “I'm positive your mind is adept enough to comprehend any topic, Miss Elizabeth.”
“I was concerned, you see Mr. Darcy, as it has taken you more than an hour to study this one page. In point of fact, you have been reading this book for the past two weeks and are only on page fifteen. I can only speculate, but considering how intelligent you are, the only possible conclusion is that the story is so extraordinary that you are rereading each paragraph several times for sheer pleasure, or it is necessary to do so in order to decipher the author's intent.” She was smiling impishly and he couldn't help but laugh.
“You've caught me, my dear.” He glanced quickly around the room, relieved to note that no one was paying them any attention. “The truth is, if you must know, I find myself terribly unfocused whenever I am near you and cannot concentrate. I may be on page fifteen, however, I would be unable to render an accounting of the content thus far.” He blushed faintly but met her dancing eyes. “Does this shock you, Miss Elizabeth?”
“You see this sampler?” She held up her embroidery.
“Yes, of course,” he answered in confusion.
“I have been working on this for a month and should have completed it in a week. These stitches here are all wrong and I've had to rip this section out three times! And I can't tell you how many times I've stabbed my fingers. I judge you and I are suffering from the same disease.” She too was blushing but she held his gaze.
He reached down and squeezed her hand, then brought her fingers to his lips for a tender kiss. His eyes held hers, his blue orbs darkening slightly. “I am very pleased to hear you say that, Elizabeth. You have no idea how pleased.” His voice was muted but immersed with emotion and her breath caught in her throat.
In a desperate attempt at levity, she teased, “Pleased, Mr. Darcy, that I have pricked my fingers?”
Mr. Darcy, however, seemed to be lost in her eyes and only smiled. “My mother used to kiss my wounds to make them better. Should I kiss your aching fingers? Will that relieve your pain?” and he proceeded to give the tips of each finger a tiny kiss. Elizabeth gave a shaky laugh and managed to pull her hand from his grasp, resuming her embroidery. Mr. Darcy seemed immeasurably pleased with himself.
“I received a letter from Georgiana today,” she said, needing to change the subject.
“Did you? My sister seems to have forgone writing to me these past weeks in favor of writing to you.”
Elizabeth looked quickly at his face. “I'm sorry! I have no wish to keep her from writing to you.”
Mr. Darcy laughed, “I'm joking Elizabeth. You know how pleased I am that you and Georgiana are friends.” And it was true. Two days after their engagement Elizabeth had asked him for permission to write to Georgiana. He had lightly scolded her, reminding her that Georgiana would soon be her sister. Therefore, he said, it was important that they establish a relationship and he, frankly, no longer had any authority. She had been quite moved by his assurances, knowing how dear his sister was to him. It was another of the dozens of ways he daily showed his love for her.
Now he asked, “So what did my sister have to say?”
“Nothing of consequence. Just girl talk.” The two most effective words in the English language to render any man mute. In actuality, Georgiana had imparted information of extreme significance. It was revealed that Mr. Darcy's twenty-ninth birthday was on November the tenth, less than a month away. Elizabeth wasn't clear on what she would do with this knowledge, but it certainly was too important to ignore.
Later that night, as she and Jane were readying for bed, Lizzy told her about Mr. Darcy's approaching birthday. “You must help me think of something special, Jane. This is our first celebration together so it must be memorable.”
“Of course! We have time to plan and I am sure Mr. Bingley will assist us. Don't fret, Lizzy, we'll make it memorable.”
********************************
November the tenth, Mr. Darcy's birthday, dawned cold, a dusting of snow having fallen in the night. Aware that the weather was unpredictable this time of the year, Lizzy and her cohorts had planned the birthday festivities to take place inside Netherfield. Mr. Bingley had been as giddy as a child at the idea of surprising his friend. In fact, his enthusiasm was so infectious that Lizzy had been afraid that he would be unable to keep the secret. Luckily for her, Mr. Darcy was so engrossed in his own happiness, that he hardly noticed anything Bingley said or did.
Mr. Darcy had uttered not a word about his birthday. Although Lizzy was relieved to be able to carry out her plans for surprising him, she did think it odd that he kept silent. She fretted that perhaps his normally reticent nature would not welcome being taken unawares. Bingley assured her that he would love it. She wondered if he was hurt that she had not shown interest in establishing when his birthday was. He had discovered her birthday by asking her mother one evening while at dinner, so maybe he was injured that she had not returned the gesture. She abhorred the very idea of causing him pain, no matter how slight. Thankfully, the day was finally here and soon he would know how special he was to her.
He had returned to Netherfield the previous afternoon after a short trip of three days to London on business. It was his second such trip since their engagement and Lizzy missed him terribly when he was gone. However, on this occasion his absence had been fortuitous as it made carrying out the final plans easier.
It hadn't been difficult to get Mr. Darcy out of Netherfield that morning since he daily went to Longbourn with Mr. Bingley to meet their fiancés. After the obligatory greetings to Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, and Kitty and Mary, the couples left. Jane had `innocently' suggested that a morning carriage ride to see the freshly fallen snow would be enjoyable. So Mr. Bingley and Jane set out ahead in one phaeton, Mr. Darcy and Lizzy following in the other.
It had been almost six weeks since their engagement and in that time Lizzy and her betrothed had grown closer and so very comfortable with each other. They conversed about everything now with an ease that was unbelievably intimate. The agony of waiting for their wedding day was acutely felt by them both. At times like these, sitting side by side in the carriage, talking and laughing together, their mutual communion and love was overwhelming. Lizzy was hard pressed to remember that they weren't already married, such was the level of their unity.
They arrived at Netherfield in time for luncheon. Once they had been relieved of their coats, gloves and hats, Mr. Bingley took the lead. He offered his arm to Jane and walked toward the dining room. However, he passed by the double doors and continued on down a hall toward a far parlor rarely used. Mr. Darcy, who was absorbed in the enchanting appearance of Elizabeth's rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes, didn't even notice the detour until they were almost to the door.
“Bingley,” Darcy asked, “Where in blazes are you leading us?”
“Thought a change of view would be welcome, Darcy. Come along!”
Mr. Bingley swept the door open and nimbly stepped aside so that Darcy was the first to enter the room. He stopped on the threshold thunderstruck. The normally sober room of muted creams and gold was a riot of bright colors. Yards of ribbons in every color of the rainbow were draped across the windows and along the ceiling, twisted and tied together, some dangling like branches of a bizarre willow tree. A huge banner was draped over one wall with the words “Joyous Birth Day” painted on it. The furnishings were pushed against the walls and in the middle of the room sat two tables. One was a table set for dining with four chairs. The other was laden with wrapped gifts and a cake. The cake was round, white frosting decorated with tiny flowers and leaves, with one tall lit candle in the middle. Mr. Darcy had never seen anything like it.
He came to his senses when Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his waist and whispered into his ear, “Are you surprised, my love?” Jane and Bingley were smiling at him.
“I am ……speechless,” he stammered. He looked at Elizabeth. “Did you plan this? How did you know?”
“Yes, I did, with some help obviously and it was Georgiana who told me,” she replied, “Are you pleased?”
“Yes! Yes, I am,” he took her into his arms and kissed her tenderly. Jane and Bingley swiftly turned into the room, letting them have a moment without prying eyes.
“I was afraid you were hurt thinking I didn't care when your birthday was.” Lizzy whispered with a hint of anxiety in her voice.
Darcy kissed her again. “Not at all, dearest Elizabeth. My birthday has passed mostly unnoticed for years now. Georgiana always remembers, as does Mrs. Reynolds. Some years I've completely forgotten it myself until they remind me! I'll get a small gift from my sister and my favorite meal for dinner, but that is it. I haven't had a celebration of any kind since I was a child. This is so unexpected!”
Lizzy glowed with pleasure. “Well, then, let the festivities begin! After you, Mr. Darcy.”
Luncheon was served first. They were all in high spirits so laughter abounded. After the meal was finished and the servants had cleared the table, a tea service was brought in but the aroma was definitely not that of tea. It was warm cocoa, a favorite treat of Darcy's. Snow had begun to fall outside but the room was cozy and the occupants were relaxed.
“So, explain the cake,” Darcy asked, “I've never heard of a candle on a cake before.”
Bingley spoke up, “Lizzy read of a German tradition of placing a single candle, a `Light of Life' wasn't it Lizzy?”
“Yes. The idea is that the candle symbolizes the life of the person being celebrated. It must stay lit all day and be blown out, by you, at dusk. You can make a wish before you blow it out and it will be granted.”
Darcy smiled, “I'm not one to lend credence to silly superstitions, but I'll play along. It certainly is pretty.”
They spent the afternoon playing several parlor games. Charades first. Lizzy and Darcy paired up against Jane and Mr. Bingley. They were all astounded to discover that Mr. Darcy had a flair for the dramatic and was an exceptional player. Lizzy could guess what he was acting out in short order and they easily won the most rounds. Next they played Twenty Questions. Lizzy had asked Mr. Bennet, a neutral party, to come up with topics for both games and he had thoroughly enjoyed conjuring up the oddest things. More than once they were stumped. In the end, Jane and Mr. Bingley proved the victors. Lastly they played Blind Man's Bluff. Darcy always seemed to know exactly where Lizzy was, but she was agile and quick so could easily elude him. Mr. Bingley actually proved to be the best player. He had an uncanny ability to out-think another's movements and would catch them every time. Needless to say, whenever a fiancé was caught a pause would be necessary for a brief interlude of nuzzling and kisses, but no one minded.
Dinner was served. Georgiana, upon request, had provided a list of Mr. Darcy's favorite foods. Lizzy joked that it was a fortunate she had asked Georgiana's advice since she was contemplating serving mutton. Darcy winced and they all laughed. He detested mutton.
After dinner it was time for presents. The table was taken away and a couple sofas were brought forth. Lizzy sat next to Mr. Darcy on one sofa with Jane and Mr. Bingley on the other. Georgiana had sent her gift, a new riding crop. Bingley gave him a pocket watch and Jane a set of handkerchiefs which she had embroidered with his initials. Darcy was touched that his soon to be sister would go to so much trouble for him and he told her so. Jane blushed.
Lizzy handed him her present, wrapped with silk and a blue ribbon the color of his eyes. Darcy opened it gradually, theatrically adding to the tension. Inside was a book, “Paradise Lost” by John Milton.
“It's the first edition volume,” Lizzy said, “you said you had been searching for that one.”
Darcy was stunned. “Elizabeth, I can't believe you remember that! I said it in passing when you were at Pemberley, when I showed you the library.”
“I remember every moment and every word of that day,” she said softly, touching his cheek gently with her fingertips. Neither of them noticed that Jane and Bingley arose and crept silently from the room.
He captured her hand and kissed it, then leaned over and kissed her lips. “You are amazing,” he breathed, “I love you so, my Lizzy. How did you ever find it?”
She laughed, “My father has connections. He is forever adding old books to his collection. He is acquainted with a man at Oxford who specializes in finding unusual books. He had three copies of Milton's first edition! Open it, there is more.”
Darcy didn't know if his heart could take any more, but he complied. Inside was a bookmark of fine silk with a satin backing. Elizabeth had embroidered in her delicate hand a verse from Genesis: “The two shall become one flesh.” Below were two hearts intertwined with “Elizabeth” in one and “Fitzwilliam” in the other. To say that Darcy was overwhelmed would be a gross understatement. Tears welled up in his eyes and he couldn't speak. He gathered Elizabeth into a tight embrace and simply held her, hoping that his wildly beating heart would express his thankfulness. He finally pulled back and kissed her with a reckless abandon, his soul fiercely touched. She responded in kind, their kiss deepening to a dangerous level. Neither of them wanted to stop and it took a monumental act of strength to do so.
Darcy held her face in both his hands, his eyes closed and his forehead resting on hers as he attempted to regulate his erratic breathing. “Two weeks,” she murmured, “just two more weeks.”
He chuckled harshly and opened his eyes to see her glorious face so near his own, “It feels like an eternity.” He met her lips in a tender, controlled kiss, “Elizabeth, my precious love, this has been the very best birthday of my entire life. How can I ever thank you?”
She smiled naughtily, “Well, my birthday will be here in six months. You can start planning now!” They both laughed and the jocularity lightened the mood. After another brief kiss, they recalled Jane and Bingley, who had managed to take advantage of their alone time in like pursuits.
More hot cocoa was served and then it was time to blow out the candle and have some cake. Mr. Darcy made his silent wish and cut the cake, performing the honored task of serving the others. All too soon it was time to return the ladies to Longbourn. Mr. Darcy would never forget his twenty-ninth birthday, even though Elizabeth made a point of having a special celebration each year thereafter.
**********************
Some weeks later, Elizabeth and her husband were in their bed at Pemberley, lying in each other`s arms. They were in the satisfied haze of post lovemaking, Lizzy gently caressing his chest and Darcy playing with her hair. Out of the blue Lizzy spoke, “William? What was your wish when you blew out your birthday candle?”
“I wished that I would forever be as happy as I was at that moment.”
“Has your wish come true, then?”
“No.”
She rose up on her elbow to see his face. “No? Aren't you happy?”
He smiled at her troubled face and caressed her cheek. “I wished to be as happy as I was at that moment. Fool that I was, I had no concept of the greater happiness in store for me.” He pulled her face to his, but paused just before kissing her, whispering softly, “The ecstasy I feel for you now, my heart, is beyond mere happiness.” And he proceeded to show her precisely what he meant, then and every day for the rest of his long life.
The End