Till the End of Time, Mr Darcy

by Erin Berkeley

  “You are exquisite, delightful and most charming,” he whispered before lowering his lips to her cleavage.

  Her head fell back and she clasped the side of his head as he moved over the swell of her breast and captured her nipple into his mouth again. He swirled his tongue lightly around the tight bud, then drew it deeper into his mouth. Heat bloomed in Elizabeth’s belly and she felt a rush of wetness slick her inner thighs. He teased her other nipple with his fingers and cupped her entire breast gently in his palm, kneading and caressing her. His hand moved constantly, sweeping low over her belly, then back up the curve of her waist to her breast. Her entire body quivered beneath him in anticipation of where his fingertips would brush against her next.

  While he trailed more kisses across her shoulders, Elizabeth worked on the buttons of his shirt. She only got three unbuttoned before he grabbed the collar and yanked the entire shirt over his head.

  Elizabeth blinked.

  Merciful heavens!

  He was a spectacular sight to behold.

  Her eyes roamed over the planes and symmetry of his body.

  She lifted up on her elbow, but as her breast grazed his cheek, he dipped his mouth and drew her nipple deep into his mouth again. Her head fell back and she moaned. Her hand clasped his jaw and the stubble of his freshly shaved beard scraped her palm. Sensations exploded inside her. Her hand drifted down his face to touch the sweet curve of his shoulder. The muscle filled her palm and she turned her face to lick his skin.

  Fitzwilliam’s head jerked up and he blinked, lips parted and damp from kissing and sucking her. He looked stunned that she had tasted him. Suddenly feeling emboldened, she decided she liked surprising him when it came to his body.

  She grinned and licked the outline of his shoulder muscle again. “What? Should I not be having some fun too?”

  He blinked again. Then kissed her gently on the mouth. “Certainly! Let us take it up a notch, shall we?”

  Her gaze scanned his face. “What does that mean?”

  “I am trying to go slow with you, Elizabeth. But the truth is, I want to devour you. Every...single...inch of you.” He punctuated the words with nips down her belly.

  She raked her nails down his arm, albeit much tenderly. “That makes two of us.”

  He paused and she felt his grin against the sensitive skin of her belly. He kissed her.

  She giggled. This was not going to be awkward after all, she thought.

  He lifted her leg and nibbled her toes until she squealed. He scraped his cheek across the arch of her foot and kissed every delicacy of her leg as he travelled up the stairway to heaven.

  Elizabeth reached for him and traced the outer edges of his ears. “Fitzwilliam, you have too many clothes on.”

  He lifted his gaze to hers.

  She reached for the buckle of his pants and he swivelled his hips away from her grasp.

  “You really are beautiful, Elizabeth.” He lowered his lips to her belly button again and then travelled lower until she squirmed.

  At the first touch of Fitzwilliam’s tongue, a jolt of intense arousal lanced through her. Her thighs became heated and she gripped his hair for dear life. He slid one finger inside her and Elizabeth gasped as her body clenched in anticipation. His tongue twirled around her button making it throb for more attention. His finger coaxed her arousal higher and Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut to try and stay grounded as spirals of heat exploded inside her. She moaned and panted and pushed her hips toward him, begging him to take her higher.

  His tongue swirled and drove deeper inside her, making her writhe beneath him with a need she could not quantify. She wanted more. So much more. He slid another finger inside her and pressed upward into her, stroking her toward an utmost of ecstasy, while his tongue sped her there.

  Lights and colours swirled behind her eyelids and she clung to him, terrified that the intensity of her body’s need for completion would send her beyond the realms of this now. He drove deeper, playing her with an expert perfection.

  She arched her back and pushed into him. “Please...”

  The world spun away from her as her body seemed to explode into a thousand spirals of light. He held her until her body quieted. He kissed her stomach from one side to the other, unbuckling his pants as he continued toward her breasts.

  Elizabeth scooted higher on the bed and his pants hit the floor. He rose up over her like a glorious beast set to devour her. Lust blazed in his eyes and Elizabeth felt a thrill shoot through her. Her heart pounded and she curled one foot around his calf, thrilled at the sensations coursing through her body. The rasp of his rough legs against the inside of her own added another layer to her swirling, throbbing need.

  He settled between her thighs and rested his belly against her. His warm lips played at the base of her neck, nipping her skin gently before kissing away any pain. The hardness and softness of him were like the perfect combination of salty and sweet.

  His lips claimed hers as he pressed inside. Elizabeth moaned and involuntarily, she lifted her hips to meet him, to welcome him, and as he pushed deeper inside her, her body clenched as a result of the intense, but quick pain, and then tightened around him, rekindling her banked arousal.

  He stroked her with a slow rhythm, building her own need until it matched his. Her hips quickened and she met each thrust. her fingers dug into his arms, his backside, and the side of his thigh where it pressed against hers. She needed this. She needed him.

  They came together and as his warmth spilled into her, Elizabeth clenched tight, her body holding on to the sacred seed.

  Chapter Eight

  Pemberley was exceedingly vast, tastefully bedecked, and greatly well kept. Pemberley was now her home.

  In the last year and some, Elizabeth Darcy could not have imagined that she would be seeing the insides of Pemberley, the home of Fitzwilliam who was not a favourite person of hers. Nay, it was not a thought that ever prevailed in her mind and she certainly had never imagined being married to its lord and master. Her mind, always so occupied, lively and full of all kinds of endless conversations, had never conceived that she could be looking on all of Pemberley and call it her own.

  She sighed. It was a twist of fate which had made her the mistress of Pemberley and nigh two weeks had passed that she became so pronounced in front of the church with close friends and family in attendance, but the title and all its accompaniments were yet to acquaint well to her thoughts.

  For the umpteenth time, Elizabeth wondered at her being where she was, on the grounds of Pemberley, wandering its hallways and sitting on the bank of its stream without a naysayer to refute her claim of proprietorship. It was the most wondrous thing; nonetheless, it was most daunting to accept.

  The daughter of a gentleman she was, but she had come from little more than adequate to sustain their family of seven and sparse servants, but never enough to buy extra petticoats when they wished. The family’s carriage was, more often than not, engaged on the farm; so much so, that there was always no alternative but to go thither by foot miles to Meryton to visit their aunt on many an occasion. Since her arrival at Pemberley, Elizabeth had the use of the Pemberley carriages and livery at any period of the day that she so wished. Maids and servants were at her beck and call and several dresses had been made for her. She was certain she could not possibly wear them all before the year end.

  Pemberley was a large handsome stone house manor cited on a rising ground, and surrounded by all elements of nature to assure the mind of the efforts taken by some thoughtful Darcy predecessor to retain it, despite the artificial construction. Elizabeth sat on the sand at the mouth of the stream in front of the manor, staring into the water without really seeing the gliding silver surface, an unfinished letter in her hands. A gentle breeze surrounded her and lifted the hem of her skirts but her mind was drawn away in recollection of the activities of the past half-month... starting from the night whereupon she had formally borne the title of the mistress of Pemberley in deed and a
ct.

  Elizabeth’s face burned as she remembered exactly how Darcy had touched her and how she had touched him. She had been unable to understand the demands of her own body but he seemed perfectly attuned to the situation, touching her where she yearned to be touched and encouraging her to explore his body in a like manner. And what a wonderful body the master of Pemberley was bestowed with. Elizabeth recollected herself from the wandering of her mind. The things that she and Darcy had done together that night and the next and the next after that may certainly not find its way into the letter she was writing to Jane and the rest of her family.

  In truth, never had she found writing a letter quite as labouring as she did in that moment. But write, she exceedingly must. Save the very first missive she sent home the instant she and her new husband arrived at the manor – and that even had been written in a hurry and contained no real information, except to inform her family that they had safely arrived at Pemberley – Elizabeth had not sent a single written word home, and if she be acquainted with her sister Jane but a little, she knew that Jane would be immensely worried by now.

  Elizabeth read the words in the letter and winced a little. She had written most enthusiastically about the grounds of Pemberley and exalted the servants who kept it so enthralling. She had written about the neighbours who persisted on calling on her at the house till the last of the daylight was gone, such that her only recourse would be to hide away in the gardens or by the stream as she did at this very moment.

  Alas, there was no hint about that which she knew Jane would be most eager to learn. She had made no mention of Darcy’s name at all in the letter. Elizabeth knew her sister would, immediately upon reading the lines of the letter, understand the omission to be no accident. Her disgust for the person who now had become her husband had been so little ill-hidden in the past. But this omission would not delight Jane, Elizabeth considered; Jane was hopelessly sweet-natured and desired nothing but to see other people happy. And this was the chief reason why Elizabeth still found it hard to take pleasure in her own situation – Bingley, Darcy’s friend had fallen in love with Jane but the selfish scheming of his sisters and Mr. Darcy had ensured that Mr. Bingley disregarded his feelings, leaving Jane with a precariously broken heart. The situation was all the more something of an irony because somehow, Elizabeth was now married to Mr. Bingley’s friend, Darcy, who Elizabeth obtained information that he was the principal cause of her sister’s pain.

  “We must go back inside the house, my lady; the wind is kicking up some storm yonder. Remember also that we expect some visitors by evening tide.”

  Elizabeth was startled by the voice; so engrossed by her contemplations was she that she quite forgot about her personal maid, Annie, who would not move away from her side no matter where she went. But Annie was right, the sky was dark to the west of the manor and the clouds were fast travelling their way. Gathering her skirts, parasol and writing materials, Elizabeth rose and smiled at her maid.

  “You should not have waited with me, Annie,” said she even as the maid rushed to collect her burden from her.

  “And have master cut off my head and feed it to the dogs?” Annie smiled.

  Elizabeth could not help but smile at the apt recollection of her husband’s words. On the third day of their being together as man and wife, the Pemberley master had been called away on urgent business. His reluctance to leave his new bride was most evident but she had pressingly assured him that she would hold no grudge against him for attending to his businesses. Before leaving, he had assembled his household and given precise instructions.

  “My lady is to be cared for most attentively and hearkened to in the same fashion as you would myself. No complaints shall be heard upon my return except I have the culprit’s head and feed it to the dogs.”

  Elizabeth had thought the threat too vivid but soon found out that his servants took their lord seriously. Annie in particular, had taken the words to heart and never let her lady away from her sight. No matter how ill she thought of him as a man, Elizabeth soon discovered that he was most respected by the entire Pemberley household and she was astute enough to distinguish between fear and respect. From the stable boys to the housekeeper, all had nothing but goodness to say about their lord. Elizabeth knew not how to reconcile the proud vain man she knew him to be to the revered master his household held him to be. It was why she found not the words to describe the man she had married in her letter to Jane.

  She and Annie walked across the bridge away from the stream and were almost nearing the front doors when they heard the sound of an approaching carriage. Together, they turned towards the sound. Over the bridge from whence they just came, a coach and four came clambering towards them. Elizabeth was now familiar with the livery of the servants of the Pemberley household enough to elicit a heartfelt sigh from her.

  The time had come. She must meet her husband’s relatives at last. One of them, she had met a little over a year ago and did not relish meeting again. The other, she had never set her eyes upon but had heard such mixtures of information about her that she was not overly eager to make her acquaintance either. In his last correspondence to her, Darcy had apologized for keeping away for so long – his journey was taking longer than anticipated and he informed her that he had written his sister to take leave of his aunt’s abode in Hunsford where she had gone to pay her visits for the sole purpose of keeping his new bride companion. Some days ago, Elizabeth had received a missive from Lady Catherine who wished to inform her that the grandest rooms in the manor be prepared for her and her daughter for she was condescending enough to come thither to Pemberley with her niece to express her marital wishes to her nephew’s wife.

  “Do not worry, my lady,” said Annie, noting her lady’s sigh. “Lady Georgiana is the sweetest lady you could ever meet. Of Lady Catherine though, you ought to be very much alert. She has a satirical eye, that one.”

  Annie’s words played its part well. Immediately, Elizabeth found her spirits lifted. She had dined several times with Lady Catherine de Bourgh at Rosings Park while she went thither to visit her friend, Charlotte, upon her marriage to her cousin. Why, she had engaged in a little debate with the Lady Catherine herself and knew just how satirical the lady could be. She had excelled at that meeting and she was certain that this could be no different. Before the thought settled, however, Elizabeth recollected that Lady Catherine had Darcy marked for her daughter. Things would most certainly be very different now that Elizabeth was married to Darcy.

  With a gracious smile on her face, Elizabeth stepped forward to bid welcome to her in-laws.

  Chapter Nine

  Lady Catherine was a woman filled with knowledge of her own rank and self-importance. She was the daughter of a titled man who came from a long familial title and had married a very rich man much befitting for her circumstances. Under no circumstances was she accustomed to becoming thwarted in any matter and her demeanour, comportment and disposition were ones that brooked no argument. The servants at Pemberley were very much acquainted with her ways and flew to carry out her orders instantly as she called them out much like a marshal at war without regard for the new lady of the house.

  Only one order had caused some stillness in the air and Mrs. Ramsey, the Pemberley housekeeper, had looked to Elizabeth in dismay. After the necessities of exchanging pleasantries and the visitors exclaiming over how excellently Pemberley looked in the summer time, the visitors had retired to the parlour for some tea while the servants took in their trunks to the rooms prepared in wait of their arrival.

  Elizabeth could scarcely hold on to the gloating smile that filled her face as she assured the lady that the Sunflower room where she demanded she be taken to had since been converted to her room since she came to Pemberley. When Darcy quit the manor, she had found that she was unable to remain in the room that they shared without her face burning up with the recollection of their lovemaking those first three nights before his departure.

  Casting away the intru
ding thoughts, Elizabeth returned her attention to her husband’s aunt. It was not every day that anybody saw Lady Catherine de Bourgh thoroughly at a loss for words. The lady cast an astonished look about the servants and declared, “Why, you should reside in the same chamber with your husband, young lady! Why do you keep a separate chamber?”

  “That, my lady is of no concern of yours and I am certain that you do not expect me to provide an answer to such blatant enquiry.”

  Elizabeth could hear the collective gasp but then, Lady Catherine was not a person to be allowed to overrule and override one both in privacy and in the public. The woman was a tyrant, it was a good information to remember at all times. Her recollection did her justice to remember that Lady Catherine was a most active lady who concerned herself with the littlest matters in her parish in Hunsford and could be very much assertive in her demands. She half expected the lady to command that she move out of the Sunflower so that she may take occupation of the room. In that case, she would certainly find herself turned out of her nephew’s house.

  The lady merely arched her brow in decidedly regale fashion “Verily, I have said it many times – a man must only marry within his rank and propriety otherwise your family becomes strangers and mediocrity is allowed to rule. Elena, take me to that room facing the glen; that should do in the stead of the Sunflower room. Of certain, not a soul in these estates who does not know that the Sunflower room had remained my preference at the times I visit which is so infrequent as to not be assured of my comforts. You would think that a new bride shall take care to make such observations and offer her in-laws a much warmer welcome...”

  Lady Catherine’s voice faded off as she went with her daughter, her governess and the housekeeper above stairs.