Chapter 156
William opened one eye, saw the light filtering in the windows, and closed his eye again. With a sigh of utter contentment, he draped an arm over Elizabeth, drawing her closer. She responded by turning toward him and resting her head on his shoulder.
“Good morning,” she murmured. His eyes were still closed, but he could hear the smile in her voice. She traced a finger over his jaw. “How are you and your scruffy face this morning?”
He snickered. On a whim, he had skipped shaving yesterday; unprecedented as it was to part with his razor for a day, it had somehow fit his mood. “My scruffy face and I are happy and relaxed, thank you for asking.” His eyes drifted open. “Seriously, Lizzy, I can’t ever remember feeling completely at peace, the way I do right now.”
“This has been a wonderful mini-vacation. I’m glad we got to come down here a little early.”
“Let’s spend the morning in bed, the afternoon on the beach, and the evening by the pool, like we did yesterday.”
“We can’t, because—”
“Oh, no.” His beatific mood evaporated. “Is it Wednesday already?”
“’Fraid so.” She sat up and checked the clock beside the bed. “Thank heaven it’s still early. I have a million things to do. I have to finish the gift bags for everybody, and then Winston and I need to deliver them to Sandy Lane and the Bennet mansion.” She shook her head gently. “Our pre-wedding honeymoon is over.”
He sighed. “Two days alone with you wasn’t nearly enough, especially considering how short our actual honeymoon is going to be.”
“That’s what happens when you’re a musical god, in demand all over the world,” she replied, her eyes twinkling. She leaned over to kiss him. “Seriously, as busy as you are, we were lucky to carve out even a few days on such short notice. Besides, I count the trip to Italy as part of our honeymoon.”
“With a fifteen-year-old chaperone.”
“She’s turning sixteen during the trip,” Elizabeth retorted with a pert grin, her eyebrows raised.
“Oh, well, that changes everything.” Chuckling, he pulled her down beside him and enveloped her in his arms. “All right, I admit, my full plan for the day won’t work. But we need to spend at least another hour in bed. After today, we’re going to mostly be apart till the wedding. I need some nourishment to see me through till Saturday.”
She snickered. “Right, because you’ve been on starvation rations the past couple of days.”
He shrugged. “What can I say? I know what I like. And after that, we can finish the gift bags together, out by the pool. We’ll have time to deliver them right after lunch, before Winston and I head for the airport.”
She sat up and eyed him, her lips pursed. “Okay, it’s a deal. On one condition.”
He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head in silent inquiry.
“Go and shave!” She scowled at him, scraping a fingernail across his stubbly jaw. “I can’t walk down the aisle on Saturday with my face all scratched up from my fiancé’s macho-man beard.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied meekly.
He hauled himself out of bed to complete his assigned task. As he made his way to the bathroom, he was still smiling. Completely at peace. It was an accurate summary of his feelings, despite the chaos that was about to descend on the island, or at least on his little corner of it.
Alerted by the sound of tires crunching on gravel, Elizabeth ran to the window and saw the car approaching. They were here!
She quickly smoothed her wedding gown and zipped up the garment bag protecting it. She and Naomi Shepherd had spent the last hour steaming out the wrinkles introduced during the flight from New York, and she didn’t want to undo their painstaking work.
She hadn’t been entirely in favor of wearing the dress here, both because of the relative informality of the event and because of the challenge of transporting it on the plane. The reception in New York offered another opportunity—in fact, a far more appropriate one. But Rose had asked her to wear it, and since Rose had deferred to her choices and William’s in nearly every other facet of the wedding, the small sacrifice had seemed worthwhile.
A sacrifice? To wear that gorgeous dress more than once? Are you hearing yourself? She shook her head at her foolishness. A tingle of anticipation went through her as, not for the first time, she envisioned herself walking down the aisle toward William in the most elegant, and most expensive, gown she had ever owned.
Voices out on the lawn called her attention back to the present, and she bolted down the stairs and out on to the terrace. Richard and Charlotte were emerging from the limousine William had rented for the weekend, with Winston Shepherd resplendent behind the wheel in his dark suit and chauffeur’s cap. Elizabeth had assured him that he was welcome to dress casually, but he had replied, with his characteristic economy of words, “I don’t mind the suit.” Naomi had clarified the situation later: “I told him he had to wear it, and he knows better than to argue with me.”
Elizabeth rushed to Charlotte and hugged her. “Char, it’s so great to see you!”
“I know!” Charlotte replied. “It’s a little sad that we live in the same city, but we had to come all the way down here to spend some time together.” Between the frantic wedding preparations, Elizabeth’s work for the foundation, and Charlotte’s own academic work—as she settled in at Columbia in preparation for her official start in the fall—they had seen little of each other over the past month.
“Anyway,” Elizabeth said, “we’ll be pretty much inseparable for the next few days.”
A male voice boomed out from behind her. “And there’s Miss Lizzy, the blushing bride. Or is that a sunburn?”
She hugged Richard next. “A little of both, maybe. Did you buy cigars at the airport?”
“Of course. You know me so well.”
“He would have smoked one on the way here if William and I hadn’t stopped him,” Charlotte said, shooting a smirk at Richard.
“Oh, I would not. I was just kidding.” Richard glanced at William. “And I assume you got the rum.”
“Of course,” William replied, “to your precise specifications.” As with many other things, Richard had exacting preferences when it came to Caribbean rum.
“We got it our first day here,” Elizabeth said. “I was amazed to learn that you’re giving up your beloved scotch in honor of our island wedding.”
He snorted. “When in Barbados, do as the Bajans do. But, having said that, I’m sure I left some Macallan 15 in the house the last time I was here.”
Winston retrieved Richard’s suitcase from the car, but Richard refused Winston’s offer to carry it, grabbing the bag himself. The group made their way toward the house.
“How far is this beach house I’ve been hearing about?” Charlotte asked.
“About half an hour. I can’t wait for you to see it. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and the beach is to die for; William and I spent some time there yesterday afternoon. But I thought we’d wait to go over there till after dinner, if that’s okay.”
“Sure, no problem. Anyway, I want to see Pemberley first, after everything I’ve heard about it.”
Elizabeth led the way, pausing at the entrance to introduce Charlotte to Naomi Shepherd. “So you’re the girl who managed to steal Mr. Richard’s heart,” the housekeeper remarked, her smile huge. “That’s quite a feat.”
“I beg to differ,” Richard retorted. “My heart is still very much in my chest.” But he leaned over to kiss Charlotte’s cheek, leaving both Elizabeth and Naomi gaping at him as he followed William out of the kitchen.
“As is mine,” Charlotte called out in a singsong voice as the men made their way upstairs.
Elizabeth shook her head, smiling. “Don’t even suggest that they’re a couple, Naomi. They’ll just spend the next hour denying it.” She turned to Charlotte. “I’ll give you the grand tour, and then we can relax on the terrace and chat for a while.”
Charlotte’s eyes lit up. “Definitely! I’ve heard a lot about rum punch.”
”Yeah, you have to try it,” Elizabeth said. “Thank you, Naomi; that sounds delicious.”
By the time Charlotte and Elizabeth finished their tour and returned to the terrace, their drinks awaited them, garnished with slices of pineapple. Alongside the drinks sat a bowl of spicy plantain chips, a favorite of Elizabeth’s.
“This punch is delicious,” Charlotte said, after taking several sips of her drink. “And dangerous, too; all that fruit juice hides the rum so you don’t realize how much you’re drinking.” She settled back into her padded armchair, kicked off her sandals, and propped her bare feet on a small ottoman. “Nice place. Very nice.” Nodding, she surveyed the lawn, shaded by the palm trees from the late afternoon sun. “And of this place,” she intoned solemnly, “you are to be mistress.”
Elizabeth shot a skeptical glance at her. “So formally worded.”
“I’m paraphrasing a line from a book I read once.”
“Whatever.” Elizabeth shrugged. “William and I thought we’d take the two of you to Bathsheba after you had a chance to relax for a while. The beach is worth a visit; it’s entirely different from what you’ll see on the west coast.”
“Is that the beach where you two met last November?”
“Yes, it’s special to us because of that.”
“Then why aren’t you getting married there?”
“We thought about it. But it’s a public beach, and a popular one. Plus, Rose—and probably Mom, too—might have had difficulty walking along the beach.”
Charlotte nodded, too engrossed in her drink to reply.
“Anyway, the main thing is that we’re at Pemberley; it means so much to us to have our wedding on the island, with all the people we love.”
“You’re really happy.”
It was a statement, not a question, and Elizabeth just smiled in response.
“Right,” Charlotte continued, “you don’t need to answer. You’re glowing. It’s a little annoying, really.”
“Well, you could be, too, if you and Richard would just admit how you feel.”
“It’s not the same with us, as I’ve told you at least a hundred times. I mean, sure, we’re a good match, living together—”
Elizabeth practically dropped her glass, astonished by what she had just heard; a few drops of the pink liquid sloshed over the edge and onto her tank top. “Ha! You finally admitted that you’re living there, not just staying till you find a place of your own!”
“All right, yes, I admit it. I found a sublet closer close to Columbia a few weeks ago, but we talked about it and I decided to stay with him instead.” She rolled her eyes. “So I guess we’re kind of becoming a couple. But you heard him; his heart is safely in his chest.”
“Oh, c’mon, he had to say that to protect his bad-boy reputation. And he followed it up with a public display of affection; you know how he is about that.” Elizabeth added in a gentler tone, “What about your heart?”
Charlotte shifted in her chair and stared into her nearly empty glass. “Even if I were in love with him, I could never admit it, right? You’ve known me for half of my life, and I’ve always railed against the fiction of romantic love and soulmates.”
“It’s not fiction.”
“You don’t understand.” Charlotte shook her head emphatically. “You have no idea how lucky you are; you and William are such a perfect fit.”
“But it wasn’t always that way. We had to work through a lot of stuff to get where we are. But in the end, it was worth it.”
“Maybe I’m just not up for that kind of effort.”
They fell silent. Elizabeth grabbed a plantain chip and bit into it. She found it a little too spicy and washed it down with a gulp of punch. She could almost feel the alcohol seeping into her veins. As Charlotte had said, rum punch played hide-and-seek with the alcohol, making it entirely too easy to over-imbibe. She closed her eyes, savoring the warm breeze caressing her face.
Charlotte snickered, interrupting Elizabeth’s reverie. “Funny thing. Wasn’t it about a year ago, at Jane’s first rehearsal dinner, that I was giving you advice about your nonexistent love life? And look at us now.”
“I know. Saturday is the one-year anniversary of the day William and I met.”
“Oh. My. God,” Charlotte intoned, rolling her eyes. “I think you just won the hopeless romantic sweepstakes, getting married on that day.”
“No, we didn’t pick the date on purpose; it was the only weekend William had available.”
“Riiiiight. That’s your story and you’re sticking to it.”
“No, seriously. You can ask Richard; he helped us pick the date. Besides, that day isn’t exactly a fond memory. Jane and Charles broke up, and for most of the day, I hated William’s guts.”
“That’s right!” Charlotte chortled. “Or at least you claimed that you hated him; even then I knew you were protesting a bit too much. I still remember you vowing never to sleep with him. Have you counted the number of times you’ve broken that vow?”
Elizabeth hadn’t counted, but the tally would have been impressive. She drained her glass of punch, keeping that thought to herself, but judging from Charlotte’s sly grin, the expression on her face must have betrayed her.
To cover her embarrassment, Elizabeth jumped to her feet. “Let me show you around the garden; it’s gorgeous. Maybe by the time we’re done, the guys will have come downstairs and we can head over to Bathsheba.”
Rose Darcy, who had flown down from New York with Charlotte and Richard, arrived at Pemberley shortly before dinnertime. Elizabeth was tempted to hug her, but instead took her lead from Rose’s outstretched hand, which Elizabeth took in both of hers.
“It’s so good to see you, Rose. Did you get some rest?” Instead of coming directly to Pemberley from the airport, Rose had gone to her hotel first.
“I’m feeling much more energetic now. I was rather tired after the flight.”
“How is your suite?” Elizabeth had chosen the accommodations for each of the guests staying at Sandy Lane. Choosing for Rose and her guest had been her greatest challenge.
“The rooms are very nice, and we have a wonderful view of the gardens.”
“I’m so glad you like it. Mrs. Barton arrives tomorrow afternoon with the rest of the gang, doesn’t she?”
“Yes. This evening she’s at her great-granddaughter’s ballet recital in Connecticut.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Well, come up on the terrace and let’s get you something to drink.”
William exited the house, carrying a tray with a pitcher full of rum punch and several fruit-festooned glasses. “Gran, you made it!” He dropped the tray on the table in haste—the pitcher might have toppled over had Charlotte not rescued it—and trotted over to Rose, enveloping her in an enthusiastic hug before she could react. When he released her, Rose glanced at Elizabeth, a flash of warmth in her eyes.
Dinner was a triumph. Naomi Shepherd’s legendary virtuosity with local fish and produce, as always, produced a delectable meal, and their spirits were lubricated by rum punch and French wine. Elizabeth ate and drank far more than she should have, but everything was too delicious to stop. After dinner, Richard coaxed the housekeeper out to the terrace and led a standing ovation in her honor.
Once a laughing Naomi returned to the kitchen, Richard dropped into his chair. “Will, why the hell don’t you live here year-round? Seriously, old man, you and Lizzy should just put down stakes here. If I owned this place, I don’t think I’d ever leave.”
“Then again,” Richard added, “with that culinary wizard in the kitchen, pretty soon I probably wouldn’t fit through the door.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I’d better stop eating until Saturday or I won’t fit into my dress.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Rose replied. Gripping the arms of her chair, she pushed herself to her feet while Elizabeth watched, frowning at the degree of effort the woman was expending. “Elizabeth,” Rose said, “would you step inside with me for a moment? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”
Elizabeth led the way inside—how strange it felt to be the hostess in a house Rose and her husband had once owned—and they sat together on a sofa in the living room. “Are you feeling all right?” Elizabeth asked. “You seem tired.”
“I’m quite well. I admit, traveling can be tiring, but I only need a good night’s sleep and I’ll be fine.”
“But I’ve noticed it at home, too—sometimes you struggle getting out of a chair, like you did just now.”
Rose shook her head and said softly, “When you’re almost eighty years old, like I am, you’ll understand. Some days the energy isn’t quite there.” She continued in her usual, brisk tone. “Don’t worry about me; I’m fine. I have something for you.” She reached into her purse and retrieved a small velvet jeweler’s box.
Elizabeth opened the box and found a pair of diamond stud earrings. “Oh, they’re lovely!”
“My mother gave these to me at my bridal shower. Her mother had given them to her before her marriage, and she wore them on her wedding day, as did I. Ever since then, I’d imagined giving them to my daughter before her wedding, but ….” Rose sighed and shook her head. “Now, I’m giving them to you.”
“They’re beautiful, and you’re so kind to do this, but wouldn’t you rather give them to your granddaughter?”
Rose looked directly into Elizabeth’s eyes. “I am giving them to my granddaughter.”
Elizabeth’s eyes filled with unexpected tears. “Oh.”
“I’m proud of you, my dear. You’ve done an exemplary job organizing this wedding, and with the foundation, and with Georgiana. And the way William greeted me tonight—I’ve never seen him so … at home in his skin, I suppose. You’ve given him that gift, and it means the world to me to see my grandson so happy.”
“He’s given me a lot, too. It’s hard to explain, but he helped me to break out of a shell I’d built to protect myself. I’ve been surprised at the things I’ve been able to accomplish.” Elizabeth brushed a tear from the corner of one eye.
Rose cleared her throat, swallowed, and blinked a few times. “About the earrings,” she said, her voice sounding a bit unsteady.
“I’ll treasure them,” Elizabeth said, running a finger over the polished surface of one of the gems. “They’re beautiful, and knowing their history, they’ll be all the more precious to me.”
“I know the diamonds William gave you are far more elaborate, and I assume you’re planning to wear those on Saturday. But you might find these useful at other times, when something simple is more appropriate. And perhaps you could pin one of them to your slip, under your wedding gown, as your ‘something old.’”
“I’d love that!”
“Very good. And some day, perhaps you can give them to your daughter before her wedding.”
Elizabeth could no longer hold back the hug she had wanted to give Rose earlier, and she was surprised to feel Rose’s arms encircling her as well. “Thank you so much … Gran,” she whispered.
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