They drove along the Thames, Darcy pointing to interesting landmarks as they appeared. Slowly they ambled along, the frequently dirty docks and warehouses along the river replaced with fine business establishments and humble residences as the Thames veered to the south, finally disappearing from view. Traffic thickened as they entered an obviously upscale district.

“This is Pall Mall Street,” Darcy explained, “and this area is St. James's Place. There is the Royal Academy of Arts, and there is Christie's Auction House. Mr. Anders, take us around the Square, please.” He pointed out several of the residences lining the massive and impressive square. “Only titled gentry live here, dearest. Continue, Mr. Anders, to the Palace, please, and then halt.” It was only a block or so down Pall Mall to a beautiful building with a well guarded, arched, and iron gated portico. “That is St. James's Palace, Elizabeth, home of the Prince Regent, as you know.”

“Have you ever been inside, William?”

He smiled. “Divers times for various fêtes. The first was with my father and Lord and Lady Matlock. I was twenty and had the great fortune to be presented to King George III. It was a highly formal affair, as they all are, and I was nearly petrified with anxiety. Imagine me at Meryton multiplied tenfold, and you may vaguely visualize my unease!” He laughed at the memory.

Lizzy was staring at her husband with fresh awe. Despite his wealth, which she was slowly learning to be comfortable with, and the incredible power he wielded at Pemberley, within society, and at his numerous business enterprises, she had never actually thought of him hobnobbing with royalty. Even the Earl of Matlock, so intimidating to her originally, was now simply his uncle. It was more than she could digest at the moment.

“How was he? The King, I mean,” she stammered.

“Gracious and formal. He was an impressive man in appearance, quite tall and broad. His illness was not as apparent then. Most in society were aware of its existence, but certainly not the general public. Of course, I spoke not at all other than the designated greeting then was ushered on. If I had a preference, I would gladly never step foot through those gates or any of the other Royal enclaves. Of course, when one receives an invitation to the palace, one accepts it.” He chuckled.

They drove on then, meandering leisurely through the promenade between St. James's Park and Green Park, Darcy again playing tour guide. His knowledge of the area astounded her. They passed through Hyde Park Corner and continued to the west, skirting the edge of Hyde Park itself.

“I planned for us to finish our day relaxing at the Park. We will have lunch by the lake, walk a bit if you feel able, open more gifts, whatever you wish, beloved.” He lightly kissed her temple.

The park was immense. Carriages were in abundance along the wide avenue, pedestrians and equestrians wandered over the paths and endless lawn, numerous picnic blankets and the occasional pavilion dotted the landscape. Every imaginable species of tree and bush and flower grew in profusion. Lizzy had heard of the wonders at Hyde and Kensington Parks, and the grandeur of Serpentine Lake, but the reality was stunning. After nearly forty minutes of winding through sights of breathtaking beauty, Mr. Anders finally halted.

They had crossed over the bridge to the north of the Lake, ambled along the edge, and alighted before a generous pavilion erected approximately twenty feet from the water's shore. The white tent was facing the lake, the front flaps tied back to form a sort of doorway and the other three sides of a netted material to allow breezes in. Solid canvas sheets on the netted sides were rolled up, but could be released for added privacy. Two footmen from Darcy House stood at the entrance, apparently having been in charge of guarding and likely arranging the structure. Darcy ordered them to return to the townhouse until evening.

Lizzy entered the pavilion, pausing in amazement. It was as if she had been instantly transported to an Arabian tent in the desert. A thick Persian style carpet covered the ground, a long divan stretched across the back, pillows of all sizes and bright shades and gaudy patterns with tassels dangling were scattered about, and a low table sat in the middle literally digging into the earth it was so encumbered with food. The only incongruous additions to the motif were the stack of traditionally wrapped gifts in the right front corner.

Darcy slipped his arms about her waist, pulling her close as he whispered, “For the remainder of the afternoon, you shall be a Princess lying imperiously on your divan, ordering your slave—a fortunate me—to fulfill your merest whim. I shall fan your beautiful face, rub your delicate feet, kiss your ruby lips, feed you from my hand, anything you desire. Except for singing. I will not sing. Even a slave must draw the line at utter humiliation.” They laughed.

“Do not worry yourself, dearest. This day has been thus far too wonderful to ruin by hearing you sing!”

“I cannot be offended at the truth. Relax, my dear, so we can eat. Speaking only for myself, I am ravenous. While I prepare a plate for you, open these. They are part of a set, so to speak.” He handed her four gifts individually wrapped but tied together. The set included five handheld tambour embroidery rings, a sewing box filled with an abundant supply of thread and needles and more, several patterns, and an exemplary pair of embroidery shears.

Lunch was delicious, the area where they picnicked secluded with a cooling breeze wafting continuously, and they were together. Lizzy reclined on the divan with Darcy sitting on the ground leaning by her side. They talked and touched, ate until they could barely move, and opened more presents.

As the hours listlessly ticked by, Lizzy unwrapped an array of wonderful surprises. One was an enormous basket of imported rare fruits consisting of peaches, pineapples, Seville oranges, bananas, avocados, and dried currants. Lizzy had never tasted a banana or an avocado, finding both strange but delicious.

“How did you find such curiosities, William?”

“I am a partner in a triune ownership of a shipping company. Have I not informed you of this?”

She shook her head. “Not that I recollect, but there is still much of your interests I am yet learning to comprehend. Frankly, I cannot fathom how you keep it all ordered.”

He laughed. “At times I do wonder the same myself. I have been blessed— or cursed, depending on the perspective—with insatiable curiosity, so I am forever enmeshing myself in new ventures. In this case, it is actually my father's fault. Anyway, we own four ships and import mostly wines and liquors and edibles, but will ship whatever pays a profit. An additional advantage is being able to acquire diverse paraphernalia from exotic locales or civilized countries at a substantially lowered cost. Therefore, if you develop a craving for bananas, dearest, I can steadily supply them.”

She smiled, leaning to kiss him. “You are a beneficial fellow to have around, Mr. Darcy.”

He shrugged. “I am a financial backer primarily. I leave the major decisions to my partners, as I am ignorant of many aspects of the enterprise. My father began the company and he did know a great deal about ships and trade. I inherited the partnership along with everything else. The profits are substantial, and as I devote little effort to it, I cannot complain.”

Her next gift consisted of two parts and thrilled Lizzy speechless, again. Nestling on a cushion of green velvet in a polished box of cherry wood sat an exquisite pair of petite opera glasses. The telescopes and handle were of silver, inlaid with mother-of-pearl with Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy etched onto the crosspiece. While Lizzy attempted to find her voice to stammer her appreciation, Darcy reached into his coat pocket and with a dramatic flourish presented two tickets to the opera, Mozart's Don Giovanni to be precise, for the following week at the Royal Theatre in Covent Gardens.

“Oh, William! How wonderful! I love the opera, and to attend with you, well, I can hardly believe my good fortune. Are they good seats?”

Darcy laughed at her delightful innocence. “Dearest, we have our own box lease. It is on the second level, midway to the right of the stage: an excellent position for both visuals and acoustics. Lord and Lady Matlock will be joining us, as will Richard, and I was also hoping the Lathrops and the Gardiners. The Vernors have their own box, three removed from ours, so perhaps they can attend that night as well. I also compiled a list of the various performances scheduled for these next weeks at the theatres in Town. Later we can peruse the list and decide which events pique your interest. You shall have numerous opportunities to employ those new glasses.”

He smiled and kissed her. “I know how greatly you enjoy the theatre.”

Lizzy said, running fingers through his hair as she spoke, “It will be a tremendous joy to share the experience with you. Also, as I do not speak Italian, you can translate.”

“I am afraid my knowledge of Italian is nearly nonexistent, love, but if we attend anything in French or German I will happily translate.” He chuckled. “Of course, I do not think it will be necessary. The story is felt in the soul through the music and emotion projected by the actors, as you know. I have watched your eyes when you have related your previous theatre attendances or discussed literature and can readily ascertain how it stirs your spirit.” He drew even closer to her face. “It is another of the myriad traits we have in common, my Lizzy, and thus why you are so utterly perfect for me.” Thereafter followed a delightful interval of tender kisses and caresses, interrupted by an unstoppable jaw-cracking yawn from Lizzy.