“I thought you were about to fall asleep.” She sighed, kissing the top of his head as he nestled his face between her breasts.
“Elizabeth,” he sighed happily, voice muffled and resonant, “my precious, beloved, beautiful wife. I fully intend to sleep with you enclosed in my arms, but first I absolutely must shower you with kisses and caresses. I covet the warmth of your skin under my hands and lips and body. I yearn to love you slowly, wholly absorbing your essence into my soul as you attain rapture in my embrace. It is essential that I whisper endless words of love and faithfulness and desire and happiness into your dainty ears.”
As he spoke he removed the robe, brushing and fondling over her body. With a fluid roll, she was on her back, spread before him in all her naked glory, his right arm supporting him. “William, your arm… we should stay upright.” He halted her words with a sensual kiss, left hand traveling with deliberate patience over her abdomen. Lizzy's massaging had done wonders. His arm was warmer and stronger, his amazingly masterful touch not the least bit diminished as was abundantly established in the following minutes.
Darcy watched her face, reveling in her passion and the transcendent beauty of her whole countenance. Lord, she was gorgeous! Observing her joy as accomplished through him was astoundingly erotic and stimulating, his love for her flourishing to a level of near agony in its intensity. As they made love, Darcy could feel the small swell of their child against his abdomen and it excited him tremendously. The blessed creation of their love pressing into him was an aphrodisiac. Their firstborn safe and secure, growing in the womb of his beloved wife thrilled him immeasurably. His release was like a surging tide, rushing over and through every cell of his body as a cleansing, refreshing wave, cries of delight rumbling out of his mouth in a gush of profoundly expressed love.
Darcy collapsed with a prolonged groan and ragged inhalation, barely rolling to Lizzy's side. With one arm and leg heavily draped over her, he grated her name and promptly fell into an exhausted sleep. Lizzy smiled, transferred the dead weight of his arm off her breasts, and then stared at him for very long while. She caressed tenderly, fingering through silky hair, inhaling deeply of his scent, in all ways satisfied and complete. Her husband was home… home not being Darcy House, but next to her and inside her soul. Smiling dreamily, Lizzy too fell asleep.
Lizzy woke refreshed and crushed under the immovable weight of her near comatose husband. Darcy had not budged an inch, respirations deep and regular as he slept. She kissed his shoulder then wiggled from under his limbs, physical necessities demanding haste. Upon reentering the bedchamber, she saw Darcy had yet to move. For another two hours Lizzy sat propped next to his warm, slumbering body, intermittently reading and staring at him. The lunch hour had long since passed when a famished Lizzy decided it was time to wake him, the baby's demand for nourishment coupled with the desire to hear his voice overcoming her sympathy.
She called for a tray of fruit and bread and a bottle of wine, and then returned to his side. Planting gentle kisses over shoulders and back, she whispered his name until he stirred. “Beloved, I am perishing from hunger but wish to eat with you.” He groaned, moving sluggishly and grimacing with discomfort. “Easy, love,” she whispered, “let me loosen your muscles.” She firmly kneaded the tightness across his back, palpating knots in both shoulders. Applying guarded attention to his left arm, he sighed in relief and it was clear that the rejuvenation was markedly improved.
“I had an interesting dream one night while you were away,” she began.
“Only one? I had dozens of interesting dreams every night, lover mine,” he said, opening one eye and grinning.
Lizzy laughed and slapped his back. “I am not referring to those dreams, Mr. Darcy. This was so vivid, as if a premonition or message. We were at Pemberley, and there was snow falling. I walked through your mother's rooms, now decorated as I have imagined them, on into the nursery. It was warm and cheery, painted a muted blue and yellow. An enormous cradle of oak sat in the corner with pillows of white linen and lace. You sat beside in a rocking chair with a small bundle held in your arms. I knew instantly it was our baby wrapped with blankets, although I could not see the face. You were crying tears of joy, your face resplendent with contentment, your broad hands securely nestling the infant's head and back.” Darcy had turned onto his side and was observing his wife's dreamy face, envisioning the scene flawlessly as she described it. “You looked up at me with a luminous smile and amazing pride. Then you said, ‘Elizabeth, he is so beautiful. Alexander, as we wished, shall be his name.’”
Lizzy gazed lovingly at her spouse. “It was so real, William. I woke immediately and he was fluttering crazily, so much so that I could almost feel him with my hand. I knew, I do know, as surely as I know my love for you, that this child is a boy. Does this sound insane?”
He sat up, requiring her assistance, and tenderly stroked her cheek. “Alexander is one of my names, as you know, but there are two facts of which you are unaware. Alexander is the name of the boy in the portrait of the first Darcys from the 1400s, the one who so resembles me as a youth. It is a family name that has materialized frequently, both in males and females, over the generations. I was gifted the name after my father's younger brother, who died at the age of twelve. My father had been extremely devoted to that Alexander, and I grew up hearing stories of this namesake whom I had never met. I always liked the name, not simply because of my uncle, but because it is a pleasing name. Strong, the name of a king, and can be shortened if necessary without sounding idiotic, like Fitz, which I abhor, or Will.” He kissed her gently. “I do not know if it was a message or a premonition, my love, but I can tell you that I have always desired my son to be named Alexander and we have never discussed this. So, I do not believe you insane.” He smiled, kissing her again. “I presume, therefore, that the Christian name has been unanimously decided?”
Lizzy laughed and nodded, hugging cautiously. “By the way, who on earth calls you Fitz?”
“No one more than once, I can assure you. Now, how about some lunch?”
They ate in the sitting room, contentedly snuggled on the sofa, conversing about general topics with laughter and effortless ease. Lizzy excused herself briefly, the need to utilize the water closet frequent. Darcy stood by the window when she returned and she encircled his waist, laying her head between his shoulder blades while he clasped her hands. They stood for a time in silence.
“William, I have something to tell you that I have avoided. Forgive me for evasiveness or concealment, but I feared your anger and disappointment spoiling our reunion. However, I cannot equivocate any longer. Lady Catherine came here on the day you left and… spoke with me. It was… unpleasant.”
Darcy turned and embraced her tightly, voice heavy with emotion when he replied, “I am aware of it, dearest. Lord Matlock wrote me, although not until the day of my accident.” He cupped her surprised face, eyes mournful. “Elizabeth, can you ever forgive me for not being here? I swear, I never thought she would do this. I thought time would have mellowed her opinion and when I wrote to her about our blessed news I imagined she would be thrilled for me. It is inconceivable that she did this, but more so that I abandoned you. Please, I beg you, forgive me for not protecting you and so foolishly assuming she would behave as a proper lady.”
Lizzy was shaking her head, tears springing to her eyes. “Oh William! It is I who should be begging your pardon!” She pulled away and began pacing, Darcy watching her in confusion.
“Elizabeth, I do not understand.”
Lizzy sighed. “She said so many things that were simply inane: accusing me of marrying you for your money, intimating that a Bennet could not birth a boy, saying that I was forcing you to harbor secrets from her and encouraging the rift, and other nonsense.” Lizzy glanced up at his darkening face then quickly looked away, flushing with shame. “She also talked about the lack of invitations as if she knew and how your social standing and the Darcy name had been hurt by marrying me.”
“Elizabeth, surely you lent no credence to that absurdity?”
“Not at first, no. Yet, I wondered. I remembered what you had said when you first proposed, about my rank and circumstances. She was right about the lack of invitations, and I know so little about your world and the requirements. I hated that I may have caused you pain or difficulties, even though I could not have done differently than to marry you. Then, Madeline told me that you knew about Lady Catherine's knowledge of my pregnancy, and I…” she caught her breath with a sob, “was angry and confused and hurt. It made perfect sense that she would attack me, hating me as she does and I thought… you should have…” she covered her face with her hands, collapsing onto the chaise in tears.
Darcy had turned to stare out the window, emotions in turmoil. Damn you to hell, Aunt Catherine! he screamed in his mind, yet it was his own guilt as much as anger that raged through him. Elizabeth was crying behind him; and he longed to run to her at the same moment he wanted to yell at her. How could she believe one word of his aunt's vindictiveness? When would she forgive him his past arrogance and misconceptions? How could she think he would purposely desert her? Of course, that is exactly why you are so riddled with guilt, Darcy.
He sighed, grasping for control and understanding. He turned, heart instantly melting at the sight of the woman he loved more than his own miserable life crying with heartache. He was across the room and enfolding her into his arms before another beat of his heart. Reclining onto the chaise with her cuddled between his legs, he lifted her chin to meet his eyes.
“Elizabeth Darcy, listen to me carefully. I love you. I absolutely refuse to allow Lady Catherine's spite to separate us, even minutely. We must rationally discuss this. You are correct in that I should have foreseen her actions. Yes, I should have,” he confirmed in response to her negative exclamation. “Of course, even if I had suspected that she might still confront you with vicious words, I may not have been available to halt her had I been in Town. I will undoubtedly persist in my self-chastisement because I consider it my duty to shield you from woes, but logically I cannot expect to invariably succeed. Nor can you expect me to, I suppose.”
He held her tighter, speaking softly with old remorse, “I have hurt you so in the past, beloved. I wish I could erase my horrid words more than you will ever comprehend, but I cannot. Instead, I want more than anything to make your life perfect, blissful at all moments, full of the love you deserve. I reckon that you feel much the same for me. Naturally, this is ludicrous. Life is not flawless, no matter how close one may obtain excellence. All we can truly promise each other is to love and honor and respect and communicate.”
“William, I am so sorry. I feel at times as if I am going crazy, my emotions are in such turmoil. Madeline says it is the pregnancy, and perhaps this is so, yet I cannot place all blame there as if it excuses my stupidity. I had to confess my words and thoughts but I did not truly mean it—only fleetingly in the moment of distress. My faith in you, in your capabilities and choices but primarily in your love for me, is unwavering. I have been distraught all week imagining your anger at Lady Catherine or me—or worse yet, your guilt and disappointment. I never want you to regret marrying me—”
“Elizabeth! I will not listen to you speak those words! Angry I may be from time to time. Guilty for not achieving my set standards, yes, but regret? I could sooner regret breathing than to regret having you as my wife.” He embraced her crushingly and actually shuddered, inhaling raggedly.
They held each other for a very long while, reassured by the silence of their hearts beating in tune. Lizzy lazily caressed his chest, the foolish conjectures of the past week fading into the wind as her husband comforted with tender kisses and a sturdy grip. Finally, he asked her to tell him everything that had been said. She did, leaving nothing out except for the revelation of his grief when she refused him. That disclosure was too private and painful to relive, for either of them.
“You are correct, you know, in that my aunt never has understood me. Of course, that is as much my fault as hers. I do not open myself easily to anyone, as you can attest. My aunt and I are not confidantes. My mother and her sister were not overly friendly or intimate. My mother was closest to the middle Fitzwilliam sister, my Aunt Muriel. She passed when I was very young and I barely remember her. Anyway, Catherine was the eldest, and despite her constant assertions, my mother never planned for Anne and me to marry. Oh, I think she probably thought it would be sweet when we were born so closely together, but it was not a serious arrangement. Aunt Catherine always pushed it though, and my mother remained silent, probably out of intimidation from her brazen older sister, but mostly because she knew I am far too stubborn to be forced into anything. The irony is that the compulsory association with each other did lead to a strong affection, but as cousins should.
“My Uncle Lewis passed four years ago, and per Aunt Catherine's request, I assumed the role of advisor to the estate. It was all a ploy, as she had run roughshod over my uncle for years and knew more about the estate's affairs than he did! Still, I found it easier to comply rather than argue. Besides, I like Kent and enjoyed visiting Anne. There was never any agreement with my uncle, or official duty. That is a boldfaced lie.”
Darcy paused, peering intently into Lizzy's eyes, piercing her very soul as only he could. “As to the rest, Elizabeth, I honestly do not know where to begin. A part of me wants to shake you until your teeth rattle for being so foolish as to entertain the tiniest notion that I would care one iota what anyone in society thinks. Yet, I recognize your innocence and cannot deny that I planted the seed of doubt by my own words at Kent. I will not lie to you and deny that there are clearly those who will temporarily shun me for my choice of wife. That is the reality of this world I live in. In this my aunt is partly truthful. The invitations have been markedly diminished. What she does not appreciate is that I am utterly indifferent and frankly relieved. In the past, I denied the vast majority of solicitations received because I was not interested. They consisted primarily of families with eligible daughters or business propositions designed to profit by my wealth. I have told you again and again, Elizabeth, how I hated the falseness of the ton. If this is the world and opinion that truly mattered to me, then I would have married a Caroline Bingley years ago!”
He painfully grasped her chin with his thumb and index finger, raptor gaze of darkened blue eyes boring into her. “Elizabeth, we have discussed this ad nauseam during our engagement and I cannot revisit the period during which I lost you, and the torment that caused to my soul. The agony is too extreme. I would lay down my very life for you and our child. That is not merely a poetic phrase; it is the truth. My wealth, Pemberley, my horses, social standings, or family ties—none of it has any meaning without you. If you do not yet comprehend this and my love for you above all else in this world, then there is nothing more I can say or do to convince you.”
Elizabeth was crying silently, wanting to hide her face in shame, but he would not slacken his grip. He continued to study her as if reading into her mind through her eyes. She clutched him tightly about the waist, returning his direct stare, pouring all her love and remorse into her teary eyes. At last he nodded, seemingly satisfied with what he gleaned. He smiled slightly and leaned in for a tender kiss. Lizzy released a shuddering sigh of liberation as he kissed her. It was a long kiss, devoid of passion, but replete with love and assurance and peace.
MR. DARCY!”
Darcy turned from the open doorway to view the eager young face of Mr. Joshua Daniels bearing down on him. He was in the process of exiting the building which housed his solicitor's offices, having spent the past hour signing the legal documents pertaining to the arrangement with Duke Grafton, as well as a smattering of other papers. Now, his solicitor's son was approaching, and Darcy did not doubt the purpose although he maintained a neutral expression.
“Mr. Daniels,” he replied with a bow.
“Mr. Darcy, I was praying I may speak with you for a moment? Rega
rding a personal matter, if you have the time?”
“Of course.” They entered a small conference room, Mr. Daniels blushing and nervous but determined.
“Sir, I was blessed with the great fortune to deliver the Royston contracts to your house several days ago whereupon I met Mrs. Darcy and four other ladies in her company. Lovely women all; however, I would be perjuring myself if I denied that one of the young ladies in particular captured my attention most profoundly. Your esteemed wife's sister, Miss Mary Bennet, is of whom I speak. We spoke briefly and I sensed a mutual interest. Nonetheless, I deemed it proper to approach you as her guardian ere I pursued the matter.”
The entire speech was delivered in a rush, and in practically one breath. Yet Darcy was impressed, as Mr. Daniels boldly met Darcy's eyes throughout, a feat many fail at, and his manners spoke for themselves. Darcy nodded seriously. “Thank you, Mr. Daniels, for your consideration and honesty. Ultimately the decision is Miss Bennet's, and I cannot speak for her feelings on the subject. However, you have my permission to call if she wishes it.” Darcy struggled not to laugh at the poor man's visible relief, continuing instead with, “I should enlighten you, though, that Miss Bennet will be in Town only for another three weeks or so, then she is returning to Hertfordshire. At that time, her care will be resumed by her father.”
Mr. Daniels lifted his chin bravely, undoubtedly imagining the horrors of dealing with a ferocious father. “Thank you, sir.”
Darcy left the offices in high spirits. His affection toward both his new sisters had increased over the past weeks. Mary, although still rather odd to him, had relaxed in his presence and displayed a rare intelligence. She was stoic and did not seem to possess the slightest humor, but she was steady, confident, pretty, loyal, and kind. Georgiana adored her, and this alone recommended her to Darcy. It was far too early to predict where the romance may lead, but Darcy felt it would be a good match.
Loving Mr. Darcy Page 22