Undoing

by L. L. Diamond

  Her heart pounded so hard, it split and oozed everything she had attempted to hold inside for these last few months. When he pulled her into his arms, she did not resist but wrapped her arms around him as his lips claimed hers. His tongue dipped inside, and she swallowed his groan as he lifted her into his arms.

  He set her on the mattress and continued to kiss her until her head spun and she could hardly breathe. When his lips finally left hers, they trailed down her neck and chest until he pressed a kiss to her navel. He looked up, his vivid blue eyes capturing hers. “I love you, Lizzy. Let me show you how much.”

  His fingers trailed along her stomach and her sides while he continued to kiss her belly, her breasts, her neck. She pressed her hands to his shoulders to savour their strength and anchor herself so she did not drown in the heat and fluttering he incited so easily.

  “What of tomorrow?” Her voice sounded so strange to her own ears, low and husky with a catch while he lightly nipped at the side of her breast.

  “No,” he said as he cupped the same breast. His thumb and finger toyed with her nipple, making her clench her thighs together tightly. How could he have complete control over her body with so little effort? “No talk of what occurs when we leave this room.”

  He wrapped his lips around the tip, sucking lightly and grazing his teeth along it. She closed her eyes and clenched the bedsheet below her, tendrils of warmth travelling to every inch of her. “’Tis inevitable,” she moaned.

  “Yes, but live for the now. Live for us until we are forced to face reality.”

  His lips claimed hers and prevented her from speaking, not that she had any desire for him to stop what he was doing. Her heart, her body, and her soul all screamed for him to continue, to do whatever he wished as long as he made her continue to feel like this.

  One hand slipped between her legs, and she greedily widened them to allow him access. He stroked, and she whimpered into his mouth as one of her hands released the sheets long enough to attach itself to his side. She would not lay here with him like this and not touch him. She had held herself back so many times in the past. How could she do so when this might be her one chance to partake of those urges?

  He paid homage to each of her breasts as he had earlier before kissing down the mid-line of her stomach. A finger slipped inside and pressed upward, making her lift her hips from the mattress as she gasped.

  What followed proved to be something her mother never mentioned when she discussed marital relations! His tongue traced between her folds before he began sucking a spot that made her writhe and squirm at the overwhelming pleasure. One of her hands grasped her own hair as her back arched from the bed and the fingers of her other hand threaded into his locks.

  When she looked down, his eyes bore into hers as his mouth and tongue continued to work at that place—that place that made her squirm and her eyes roll back in her head. Breaths burst from her lips unevenly while she practically sobbed. “I cannot bear it.”

  His only response was to suck harder, making her cry out as everything disappeared but the throbbing he caused between her legs that transformed into almost a burn, spreading through her body and paralysing her limbs until she collapsed into the mattress.

  “Fitzwilliam,” she said in a whisper as he appeared above her. Her palm cradled his cheek as he sank inside, filling her and soothing the lingering ache. She inhaled sharply at the slight sting that accompanied the intrusion.

  “Are you well?”

  “Yes, pray do not stop.”

  He wrapped her legs around his hips and began to move within her. With a deep groan, he kissed her lips. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you too.” Tears rolled past her temples and into her hair as their eyes held. How by joining their bodies did it feel as though their hearts connected as well? Dear Lord, but how could she return to her everyday life when this time was over?

  “Stop thinking.” His hand wrapped around her hip and grasped her rear to pull her closer with his next thrust. “Just feel how much I love you.”

  The depth struck some place he had yet to touch. She moaned and flexed her fingers so they dug into the skin of his buttocks, pulling him back. “Again.”

  His lips claimed hers and refused to let go until he swallowed her cries when she reached her release. Then, he buried his face into her neck as he called out his own fulfilment, collapsing on top of her.

  When he started to lift himself away, she tightened her arms and legs around him. “No. I must let go soon enough. I want nothing more than to be as close to you as possible until then.”

  “Am I not too heavy?”

  “No.” She shook her head as more tears fell from her eyes. “You are perfect.”

  Elizabeth yawned and sank back into Fitzwilliam’s arms while they watched the sun rise over the peaks in the distance. The duke’s lies bought them two days of relative seclusion within her rooms, and the dawn brought their final moments before Fitzwilliam needed to dress and slip from her bedchamber like a thief in the night—or in this case, the dawn.

  Ripping her eyes from the view, she lifted her face into his neck and brushed her lips against the sensitive flesh near his ear. “I do not want you to go.” They had talked, read favourite verses to each other, and made love. They had wasted little time as they only separated when necessary and only when one of them ventured to the dressing room for some reason or another.

  His arms clutched her tighter. “I have no desire to let you go. Yet, no matter how I wish it, we cannot change what is. Georgiana will fret if I do not emerge from my chambers today.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “We will depart for Pemberley on the morrow.”

  She sat up and straddled his lap, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “I have an artist coming to Worthstone to paint my portrait next week. Perhaps Georgiana could stay? She could keep me company while I have to suffer the endless torture of sitting perfectly still.”

  “You know I can deny you naught which I have the ability provide.” His eyes watched his fingers as they toyed with the necklace he had given her for her birthday. Unless she needed to wear jewels from the duke’s family, she always wore Fitzwilliam’s. It bound them, even though they could not be together in truth. It was a part of him that was always with her.

  “Thank you.” She sounded oddly winded. She leaned in to kiss him, letting him deepen the kiss as his fingers dug mercilessly into her hips. “Fitzwilliam?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Love me. Just one more time.” Her voice cracked, and she blinked back tears. She could not bear this. He might not be leaving forever, but she might never be with him like this again.

  His hand lifted and cradled her cheek. “I thought you were sore.”

  She pressed her forehead to his. “I am, yet a slight discomfort shall not deter me from losing myself in your embrace. I want to be with you.”

  His lips brushed against her top, and then bottom lip before he claimed her mouth, slipping his hand beneath the coverlet and caressing her until she moaned loudly. Before long, all that surrounded them disappeared as he slipped back home and guided her atop him while the sun continued to rise above the horizon.

  An hour later, Elizabeth sat before her dressing table while Lalande piled her hair atop her head in a mass of curls. She wore her dove grey gown out of deference for Fitzwilliam and Georgiana, but in some fashion, it suited her mood. Fitzwilliam would not come to her tonight since he planned on departing early the next morning, so she mourned their separation. As she continued to remind herself, they could not continue their affair indefinitely. After all, he required an heir just like her husband. He needed to find a wife, though a small selfish voice deep inside prayed he would not do so soon.

  She let her eyes fall closed and sighed. He had been so gentle with her until their last time together when he became what she could only describe as desperate as he took her. After she found her release, he had picked her up and moved her to the bed where he held her so tightly and thrust
harder than before, panting as though he had run for miles when he finally collapsed on top of her.

  “Je suis finis,” said Lalande in her thick French accent. “Does Madame require more this morning?”

  “No, thank you.” Elizabeth stood, turned, and took the girl’s hands. “I must also thank you for your discretion. I know how all of this may seem—”

  “Madame.” Lalande put up a hand, palm toward Elizabeth. “You owe me no explanations. My duty is to care for you and protect your secrets.” Her head tilted as she looked at Elizabeth with a peculiar expression. “Forgive me for being forward, but while the servants are unaware, I had already recognised your relationship with your husband was not of a romantic nature.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes surely widened too far. “May I ask how?”

  “When I first came to England, I worked for a gentleman who married for other considerations than those of the heart. That gentleman wed a pretty woman for her fortune and connections, though I suspect your husband had other motives as he has no need of money and is a duke who truly has little need for further connections.”

  “And I had neither if I am honest.”

  Lalande allowed a small smile. “My former employer was not careful about his mistress and his habits away from his wife. Not long after they wed, the wife of that gentleman took men to her bed as she wished. She did not care for them and indulged herself out of loneliness. I have seen how miserable a marriage such as yours can be. My last mistress was very young when she wed, much like you, and spent her years as a wife crying and alone more than she was happy. You hide your feelings well, but you love Mr. Darcy. If he brings you happiness, then I am pleased to help you.”

  Elizabeth clasped her hands in front of her. “Is that how my husband found you? Did he know this gentleman?”

  Her maid nodded. “Oui, Madame. After the wife died in childbirth, the husband recommended me to the duke, who searched for your lady’s maid.” She picked up the hairpins on the table and put them away in their box. “My former mistress led a pitiful existence. Whether society says it is right or it is wrong, I do not wish such a joyless life for anyone.” Once she replaced the box in the drawer, she stood facing Elizabeth. “Will Mr. Darcy be coming to you tonight? I can arrange matters with his valet.”

  “We have not discussed it.”

  Lalande picked up Elizabeth’s dressing gown. “I shall take care of it for you. Talk below stairs says he departs in the morning. We can sneak him back to his rooms before the maids are about.”

  “If you cannot, know I appreciate your effort.” Elizabeth started to turn towards the door, but a sudden thought made her to pivot around on her heel. “My sheets. There was blood on them.”

  “I removed them while you bathed, Madame. They are soaking in your bathwater. In a moment, I shall scrub what remains of the stain and hang them over the bath. When the maids wash laundry next, I shall put them directly into the washtub myself.”

  Elizabeth likely gaped at Lalande while she spoke. She always had the solution for any situation, though she likely learnt her methods from her last mistress.

  “I should not doubt you. Feel free to chastise me should I do so again.”

  Her maid laughed and wagged a finger back and forth. “No, Madame. I am not infallible. I would prefer you ask than to assume I remember.”

  Elizabeth smiled and stepped back towards the door. “I shall keep that in mind.”

  “Have a lovely day, Madame.”

  “Thank you.” As Elizabeth walked the corridors to breakfast, how odd and almost foreign her own home appeared after being isolated in her rooms for two days. Had she changed so much in that small period of time or was some other explanation to blame?

  When she entered the dining room, Georgiana bounded forward. “Lizzy! I am so glad you are well.”

  “I am very well, Sweetling. Now, what shall we do today?” Her eyes found Fitzwilliam’s across the room, and she lifted her eyebrow. “I have been cooped up for far too long.”

  “Yet you are no longer ill. Fitzwilliam has rested in his chambers for the past two days, and he appears much improved. Does he not? He has worked so hard since Papa died. I am certain he needed the respite.”

  “I did indeed.” His low, smooth voice caressed her without so much as a finger being laid upon her flesh.

  Elizabeth squeezed Georgiana’s hands. “I am pleased he could take that time at Worthstone. The duke and I are available to the both of you should you ever require it. Do not ever doubt us.”

  “You are too good to us.” The girl almost bounced to face her brother. “Is she not?”

  “She is indeed, Sweetling. She has requested you remain for a time. Would you like to stay or would you prefer to return to Pemberley with me?”

  A footman pulled a chair for Elizabeth to sit beside Georgiana, who had hurried back to her seat. “You may do as you wish,” said Elizabeth as she took a piece of toast. “I shall not be offended if your desire is to return home. I promise.”

  “I believe I should like to stay.” She glanced back and forth between Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam. “Then you can return me to Pemberley and stay a few days before you travel back to Worthstone.”

  Fitzwilliam’s eyes burned into hers. “As long as Thomas approves, I believe it a sound plan. Do you object, Lizzy?”

  How did he make her body roar to life with only a look? “Of course not. You know I adore Pemberley.” Her cheeks had to be glowing, they were so warm. While Georgiana might not notice, Elizabeth would need to be more careful in company. No one could suspect hers and Fitzwilliam’s attachment, or her reputation would suffer. Society already questioned her suitability as the duke’s wife. She could not afford to invite further scrutiny. All who derided her would crow of how correct their claims proved to be. She could not allow that to happen.

  Chapter 13

  September 20th 1809

  Worthstone

  Derbyshire

  Dearest Laura,

  I thank you for sending Miss Geddes to us! I knew from our meeting with her that she is a delightful young lady and extremely talented, but to see her create a portrait from a blank canvas is astounding. She is very worthy of your patronage, and in time, I hope the rest of the world takes note and appreciates her skill as well. She has amazing potential. The sketches and portrait she brought with her are reminiscent of those portraits we viewed by Thomas Lawrence, so it would be a shame if she did not receive similar recognition. I do realise that equal standing in the art community is unlikely since she is not a man, yet I can still hope.

  I do have a confession to make, my dear friend. At the time Miss Geddes visited, Miss Darcy was at Worthstone so instead of painting my portrait, I asked her to paint Miss Darcy’s as a gift for her brother. I must say Miss Geddes rendered a remarkable likeness to her subject and even included Miss Darcy’s young spaniel Evie in the portrait.

  Do not be cross for I have arranged for Miss Geddes to paint my portrait during the upcoming Season. Mr. Darcy had recently commented of the need to have Miss Darcy’s likeness taken, and my husband agreed the painting would be an excellent way to lift the spirits of both brother and sister after such a trying time. His birthday is also at the end of this month. Hopefully, this will be a grand surprise. Miss Darcy is vastly excited at the prospect, and I must confess His Grace and I are as well. I must again express my gratitude at making the surprise possible.

  In regards to the upcoming Season, I do anticipate being in your company again. Since we have been invited to pass Christmastide at Pemberley, we plan on returning to London after the new year. I am certain you will have an exhibition in mind to visit when we arrive, so send a note when you have decided. I shall be at your disposal.

  Yours sincerely,

  Lizzy

  Georgiana grasped Elizabeth’s hand as they crossed the stone bridge over the River Derwent. “Look! We are nearly home.”

  The duke smiled as he peeked out the window. “Was your stay at Worthst
one so tedious, my dear?”

  “Oh no! On the contrary!”

  After rolling her eyes, Elizabeth squeezed her hand. “Pay him no mind. He is teasing you. While he might not be so openly excited, he exhibits his own form of happiness at arriving home, I assure you.”

  The carriage rolled to a stop before the entrance, and once the step was set, the door opened, allowing her husband to alight. He handed out Elizabeth and Georgiana while Fitzwilliam stepped from the door.

  “Brother!” Georgiana ran up the steps and flung herself into her brother’s waiting arms. “I have missed you.”

  Elizabeth’s feelings were always the same when setting eyes on Fitzwilliam after a separation. Her every muscle was strung impossibly tight to prevent herself from launching into his arms just as Georgiana had only a moment before. Instead, she held herself stiffly even as she approached him. After he released Georgiana, he shook his cousin’s hand before he bowed over hers and kissed it, though not the lingering kiss she would have preferred were they alone. He held out a hand to usher them inside and into the library where tea and refreshments were served moments after their arrival. From previous visits, Elizabeth was aware of Fitzwilliam’s fondness for the room. She did not find it surprising he chose to entertain them in comfortable surroundings over a drawing room.

  While they drank their tea, Elizabeth did not speak much unless it was to Georgiana or her husband. The urge to hold Fitzwilliam proved too great for her to retain her equanimity. Instead, she assiduously avoided him, staring into her cup of tea or concentrating on Georgiana as a distraction—they were poor substitutes. Her eyes desired nothing more than to rest upon Fitzwilliam and study every beloved curl of his hair and every nuance of his dear expression.

  An hour later, Mrs. Reynolds escorted her and the duke to their chambers to rest until dinner, and Elizabeth all but collapsed in relief when the door closed behind her. How did people wear masks every day of their lives? The concentration and attention required were exhausting.

  “Are you well, Madame?”