Page 120
“I will; however, allow me to remind you not to expect my return until time for tea or perhaps a bit later.”
“Thank you for the reminder.”
It was all William could do not to pull her into an embrace before she left; however, he managed to stand perfectly still until she disappeared down the hall and through a doorway.
Mr. Sturgis had stood and turned his back when Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy were conversing, hoping to give them a measure of privacy; however, it was very evident how deliriously happy the new Mrs. Darcy had made the sombre man he had known for years.
After his employer shut the door behind his wife and returned to his desk, a single thought ran through Mr. Sturgis’ mind.
Such a delightful contrast between this Mrs. Darcy and the last one.
Lambton
The bakery was bustling by the time Elizabeth arrived in Lambton, so she stepped to the side of the room and waited for the customers to thin out before making her presence known. When the number of customers began dwindling, she crossed to the counter to stand behind the last two in line.
“Lizzy!” Lydia cried when she realised who was now at the head of the line. Quickly coming around the counter, she pulled her sister into a tight hug. “I did not recognise you with that bonnet on. I thought Mr. Darcy forbade you from wearing them!”
Elizabeth laughed. “You are correct! He hates bonnets and usually forbids me to wear them; however, he insists I wear one when I traipse around without him. He declares that men cannot see my face as clearly when I am wearing a bonnet, and he had rather they have no idea what a lovely lady they are overlooking. Is that not the sweetest excuse to be protective and inflexible?”
Lydia sighed loudly. “That man is besotted with you!” she declared. “Absolutely, completely and unequivocally besotted. Oh, to inspire the devotion of such a man!”
Elizabeth chuckled. “I cannot disagree. Fitzwilliam Darcy is the most caring man I have ever known.”
“Or that I have ever heard spoken of,” Lydia added as she walked towards the front door of the shop. “Let me put the closed sign on the door so we may visit.”
“You do not have to close just for me.”
“At Mrs. Potter’s advice, I am careful to keep the hours she did when she ran the bakery, and it was not unusual for her to close the shop for a time between opening and noon and again in the middle of the afternoon to put more scones and rolls in the oven. She insists that everything sells better when it is fresh-baked, and the smell of bread baking drifts over the streets of Lambton and brings in even more customers.”
“Where is Mrs. Potter and Kitty, too, for that matter?”
“Mrs. Potter only helps me out now on my busiest days—Saturday and Monday. As for Kitty, she is upstairs watching Emma. I was paying a young girl to watch her so that I could work, but since Kitty came, it has not been necessary. That saves me a great deal of money and makes Emma happy, too.”
“I am glad Kitty has been useful. It certainly seems that you have the bakery well in hand. I do not recall seeing it this busy when I was here before.”
“Mrs. Potter admits sales have increased since I took charge. She credits it to the new items I introduced from the women’s charity in London—savoury scones served with cheese and sausage, ham or bacon for breakfast, blueberry bread with vanilla icing and raspberry rolls with the same icing. Those who like the cinnamon rolls especially enjoy the raspberry ones.”
“A raspberry roll sounds wonderful.”
“Come with me, and you shall have all you want.”
They stepped through the door leading to the back room that held all the ovens, kitchen equipment and baking supplies. “I already have rolls and scones ready to slide into the ovens,” Lydia said, as she quickly added wood to a fire box. “Once the ovens reach the correct temperature, I shall put them in, and we can go upstairs to see Kitty and Emma.”
“I have been wondering how well Kitty is faring. I have not heard a word from her and from what I recall she was never willing to work at anything for long,” Elizabeth said with a laugh.
“You will be surprised at how she has matured. She and Emma get on so well, one might think she was Emma’s mother rather than me. Moreover, on Sundays when the bakery is closed, I have been teaching her the basics of baking. She is a quick learner, and I dare say that she could run a bakery herself one day, if that was her desire.”
“I am a little envious of you both. I always wanted to learn to bake—at least some sweet things.”
“I believe you have your hands full now, what with learning the duties of the mistress of an estate as grand as Pemberley, not to mention all the other properties you oversee. No, it is Kitty and I who should be envious of you. Whilst I love knowing that I can make my own living, I would not turn down a man like Mr. Darcy should he come along and sweep me off my feet.”
“Of course, you are right! I have my hands full with the way things stand now, and I am very blessed to be Mrs. Darcy.”
“Exactly!”
By then they had reached the top of the stairs, and Lydia proudly opened the door to the apartment she called home. As it happened, Emma had fallen asleep in Kitty’s lap whilst being rocked in a chair Mrs. Potter’s sister had given Lydia, and they were just inside the door.
At the sight of Elizabeth, Kitty cried, “Lizzy! Come and see Emma!” Regrettably, she said it a little too loudly, waking the child.
