“Time for your massage, little mother.” He retrieved the jar of sweet-smelling cream that his uncle had given them, straddled her thighs, and scooped a fingertip sized amount. They had discovered that the greasy ointment spread far; the first time they had used it too liberally and Lizzy was caked with slime for two days.
“This is perhaps not the best idea, beloved. We are short on time and you know what inevitably transpires when we are in such a state.” She smiled impishly, waving one hand in the general direction of their naked bodies.
Darcy did not answer, basically because there was no counter to her observation. The fact is, there had not been a single time in eight months of marriage that Darcy did not become stimulated when he touched his wife's body. Furthermore, he was already sensing the renewed stirrings of his ardor merely by her close proximity and visual enticements. Beyond that, he welcomed his arousal, well cognizant of the extreme bliss to be found with her. Knowing all this added to the joy of serving her, he dutifully massaged the fragrant oil into the silky skin from thigh to navel, pausing to marvel at the fluttery movements of their child. He attended diligently to the beautifully swelling flesh of her abdomen and the far fuller breasts. As clinically as he approached the endeavor, they were both panting after fifteen minutes and his arousal was complete.
Lizzy grasped him, Darcy groaning and faltering in his task. “Lizzy, my love,” he rasped, “I want you so profoundly.” Massages forgotten, they made love again with strong hands grasping slender hips as he held her elevated to meet his kneeling body. Lizzy gazed dazedly at her astounding, gorgeous husband, his lean, muscular body displayed for her feasting eyes and fair skin damp from their bath with his dark, wet hair contrasting. His chin had fallen to his chest, respirations fitful, face flushed and gleaming with unspeakable passion. Lizzy was mesmerized, incitement rapidly escalating as she observed his joyous mien. For seconds only, he opened his eyes, meeting hers with teary brilliance and love before sliding them shut in raging rapture. Glorious bliss succumbed to with exquisite gratification yet again, the two lovers never tired in the expression of their love.
The host and hostess, beaming and nestled so closely it was nearly impossible to ascertain where their bodies separated, were the last to arrive for dinner. Richard glanced up with a knowing grin, Caroline with pursed lips and obvious disapproval, the others with standard and studied expressions of proper greeting. Dr. Darcy fell into step alongside Elizabeth as they filed into the dining room, leaning slightly and inhaling.
“Ah, lavender, naturally, Mrs. Darcy, although I detect a hint of lanolin. Delighted, I am, to know the unguent is being utilized so effectively.”
To his surprise, Lizzy swiveled her head, capturing his eyes with a teasing gaze, and replied, “Yes, Dr. Darcy, we are unable to express how delighted we are at the results elicited from your ointment. I believe we shall need at least two more jars before you leave. Is that sufficient, William? Or should we order more?”
Darcy nodded seriously, lips twitching. “Perhaps three, my dear. Truly, Uncle, we cannot thank you enough for the satisfying consequences of your prescription.”
George was nonplussed for the span of several heartbeats, then threw back his head and laughed uproariously.
THE PEMBERLEY SUMMER FESTIVAL had been a traditional event for uncounted decades. Naturally, the specific entertainments had varied year to year, although feasting and dancing were always the main events. There had undoubtedly been years when the gala was canceled or subdued for various reasons; however, the custom by the Darcys to reward the hard-working tenants and employees whose labors ensured the survival of Pemberley had endured unwaveringly. Endured, that is, until the death of Lady Anne.
James Darcy had effectively, and nearly literally, ceased to live. He existed, moving through the rigors and demands of life with little joy. Celebrations of all kinds were forsaken, the house sunk in a state of perpetual mourning. Darcy, upon donning the title of Master, simply could not fathom how to reinstate the old traditions with his own crushing grief and discomfiture ruling him. In the present, after a twelve-year hiatus, the Master and Mistress of Pemberley embraced the restitution of all the old traditions. Furthermore, Elizabeth had determined that this Festival, as the mark of life restored, would surpass any other Festival in human memory.
She searched through the Pemberley archives for references to past events, both for ideas and to ensure this party was premiere. For hours, she met with Mrs. Reynolds and Mr. Taylor to innovate and form an agenda. Her accident interrupted the plotting for a spell, but she made up for lost time during her recuperation. Long weeks of lying abed afforded her the opportunity to attack the project zealously. All of the scheming she shared with Darcy. He, for the most part, listened, proffered the occasional opinion or insight, and happily helped when asked. Primarily, though, he allowed Lizzy to take the reins. This was her wish and aside from utilizing his knowledge base and extensive contacts, as well as digging deeply into the estate pockets, he was essentially a bystander.
At times, especially during her illness, he fretted that she was taking on too much. He had, only a couple of times, obliquely hinted that perhaps the event should be postponed one more year. Lizzy had erupted in anger, pregnancy playing a part no doubt, ordering him and his “negative attitude” from the room. So, he wisely relented, taking Mrs. Reynolds's advice to leave her be. The end result of all her careful contriving was now unfolding before his eyes and promised to be a perfect success.
Generally, the celebration was held in early June to avoid the oppressive heat of Derbyshire's summer and this had been Elizabeth's original plan. However, her accident and subsequent delay in joining the London season had forced them to postpone the Festival until August. As the schemes manifested, the decision to defer became fortuitous. Lizzy realized that the heat of August was of a degree that packing an enormous quantity of bodies into even the vast space of Pemberley's ballroom would be uncomfortable, to say the least. Therefore, she relegated the entire escapade to the outdoors.
The sweeping expanse of grassland surrounding the manor would serve as the primary locale. Five enormous white pavilions were erected: two for the lengthy, victual-laden tables, and three to provide a haven for an ample amount of dining tables and settees. A platform was situated beside the water for the orchestra, dancing to take place on the lawn. Hundreds of hanging lanterns were strung between tall poles dotting the entire field and casting illumination. Additional chairs were randomly dispersed along the edges of the main “dancing section.” Separate zones were cordoned for specific entertainments, and the entire vicinity surrounding the Greek Temple above the Cascade Falls was taboo except for a select group of artisans who were preparing a special surprise.
The purpose of the Festival, as previously stated, was to reward the working members of the Pemberley family. As Lizzy had delved into exactly what this meant, she had been stunned at the incredible number of people who depended on Pemberley for their livelihood. Of course, she knew of the tenant farmers, having met all of them during her delivery of the Christmas packages. Additionally, she had become well acquainted with the household staff members and knew all of their names, with the exception of a few groundsmen and stable workers. What she had not realized were the quantity of folks from the neighboring communities who were employed at the fisheries, granaries, farms, and even the Manor itself, either continually or as seasonal help. All were invited.
Her first revolutionary idea was to not only provide entertainment for the laborers themselves but also for their entire family, children as well as adults. Therefore, another field was partitioned for children's games. The scheming Pemberley plotters had allowed their juvenile instincts to run amok, remembering favorite youthful sports and play. An array of activities were planned for the early hours of the evening, after which the children would retire to an additional pavilion where blankets were laid so they could fall asleep while their parents celebrated.
Lizzy's next idea was t
o hire helpers from the nearby towns to perform the necessary duties so that the entire household staff could partake in the festivities. Everyone, as Lizzy saw it, from Mrs. Reynolds and Mr. Taylor down to the last maid, should lay their burdens aside for an evening. Caroline had blanched at the news, questioning in shock who would assist them with undressing and dining. Lizzy, who had grown up with a modest number of servants, had difficulty resisting a sharp retort as to the shame of a grown woman not being able to remove her own clothing or pour a cup of tea! Instead, she placatingly assured Caroline that a handful of servants from the estates of their friends were being hired for the evening.
In point of fact, the Vernors, the Sitwells, and the Hugheses were happy to assist. Along with graciously allowing those maids and footmen who wished to augment their wage by serving the Darcys for an evening, they had also lent equipment such as tents, chairs, tables, and the like. In the end, the Darcy festival aided many throughout the local communities. Folks outside of Pemberley were engaged to implement most of the physical labor necessary to guarantee a successful event, the only exception being the kitchen staff. The simple truth was, Mrs. Langton would sooner walk over hot coals than have a stranger in her domain! Therefore, supplemental food was catered from the local inns and pubs, but the vast majority of the feast was miraculously furnished by the outstanding Pemberley cook and her unparalleled staff.
The resulting banquet would be simple but stupendous. Whole carcasses of sundry pigs, lambs, fowl, and one cow were roasted on spits or in deep pits over many days. There were vegetables, some the early reaping from Pemberley's crops, diverse breads, an inexhaustive amount of pies and cakes, which grew exponentially as most of the attendees brought offerings with them, and a multitude of nuts and fruits to nibble on. Smatterings of exotic or sophisticated cuisines were offered for those brave folk who wished for something exciting.
The new Mistress of Pemberley had perused the lists a hundred times. All was prepared, all arrangements confirmed, all essential items purchased and delivered, all staff assignments covered, all entertainers present. Barring a sudden freak rainstorm or equally cataclysmic event, all should transpire as planned. No one was worried; everyone from Darcy on down was quite used to handling such operations, albeit not on this scale, but the staff was imminently competent and would sooner die a painful death than disappoint their Master and Mistress.
Nonetheless, despite all logic to the contrary, Lizzy worried.
The day itself dawned bright, the sky cloud free, and promised to be as scorching as the one prior. The occupants of Pemberley observed the unfolding drama upon the grounds from the relative calm of the Manor. In the Master chambers, Lizzy had tossed restlessly for the bulk of the night. Her mind fretted and raced, preventing deep sleep, and what dreams she attained involved a Festival tragedy or dilemma of some kind. Darcy soothed her as best he could, finally unconsciously retreating to the far side of the bed to avoid her flipping body. Somewhere in the darkest hours of the morning, she fell into an exhaustive sleep so overwhelming that she did not note her husband departing for a morning ride or his return several hours later.
She woke from the faint breath of a cool breeze tickling her face, combined with the baby somersaulting on her bladder. The room was empty, windows open wide to encourage available airflow, and it was nearly ten o’clock. Lizzy jolted up in a panic, rushed through her toilette, and dashed toward the sitting room where she seriously prayed food of some sort was left lying about. Food was thankfully present, the sidebar laden and smelling delicious. Also present was her husband, dressed from riding sans his boots, slumped in a chair with long legs propped on the ottoman and newspaper open. He glanced up as she practically vaulted through the door, he the epitome of blithe serenity.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he greeted her with a debonair grin. “Hungry?” Of course, the query was unnecessary, as she was always hungry when she woke these days. He rose as he spoke, crossing to where she stood torn between delight at seeing him so devastatingly handsome and irrational vexation at his tranquility. He kissed her cheek, smoothing her wildly rumpled hair, smiling knowingly as he met her eyes. “Sit, love. What shall I get you?”
He turned toward the breakfast bar, Lizzy speaking but not answering his question, “You were out this morning. Is all well?”
He arched a brow in amusement. “All is according to your well-laid plans, Elizabeth. If they were not, heads would be rolling, I assure you. Marmalade or strawberry jam?”
“Very funny, William!” She retorted, again ignoring his inquiry, although she did flop into her chair with a heavy sigh.
“I was not attempting to be funny, although I suppose heads would not actually roll, but you get the picture. The staff knows what is required and will perform brilliantly. You, Mistress Darcy, are ordered to rest as much as possible today. No argument, Elizabeth,” he said, this last spoken sharply and with a severe glower, Lizzy's mouth snapping shut. “My duty for the day will be to ensure your obedience. How I shall accomplish the feat, I have yet to decide.” He grinned roguishly from the bar, where he was piling her plate high with everything since she seemed unwilling to inform him as to her craving. He returned to her slowly, speaking in a low tone as if perplexed, “Let me think. How can I make certain you lay about at perfect ease, expending minimal energy, engaged in activities delightful and requiring only fundamental cogitation? Hmmm… quite the pickle.”
He handed her the plate, smiling broadly into her frowning face. “Now I am attempting to be funny. Humor is a chore for me, so you should laugh so as not to damage my fragile ego.”
She took the proffered plate with a grunt. “Your ego, Mr. Darcy, is about as fragile as tempered steel, and you are still not funny!” He laughed boomingly and her frown deepened. Nonetheless, she attacked the food, Darcy returning moments later with a cup of tea, still chuckling.
He kissed her forehead then resettled into his chair, peering sidelong as he attended to the newspaper. Lizzy woke famished everyday, weak and shaky from hunger, yet in the end ate not much more than she ever had. Darcy was certainly far from an expert on matters relating to females and pregnancy, but it amazed him how essentially unchanged she was. Her breasts were fuller and darker, with fine veins visible as they had not been previously, her belly seemed daily to swell and she was slightly wider in the hips, yet her waist was as narrow, and viewed from behind, one could not tell she was with child. The remainder of her perfect body was unaltered, Lizzy as svelte as ever. However, she was only at the midpoint of her pregnancy and he knew the majority of their son's growth was yet to come.
Most of the symptoms of pregnancy as related by Dr. Darcy and the text had not affected Elizabeth. Occasionally fatigue would grip her, but generally her stamina was as inexhaustible as always. Her skin remained alabaster and supple, she did not experience the strange food cravings reported, she felt no pains or further muscle tingling in her back or hips, she slept very well, weight gain was minimal, and her sexual appetite was undiminished. George had stressed the importance of exercise, surprising Darcy, as he would have imagined laying about being preferential. Thankfully, this was not so, as Lizzy had no intention of being confined until, as she phrased it, she was too enormous to be evicted from their bed! Since Darcy simply could not fathom this, he rather expected she would be trudging the Pemberley gardens mere hours before their son arrived.
With visions of a waddling, rotund wife navigating the rose garden, Darcy chuckled lowly and seriously studied the paper. Lizzy finished her meal, about a third of what her husband had piled onto the plate, irritation vanishing along with her hunger. Naturally, Darcy was correct again. The staff would execute all details brilliantly, not only because they were loyal and stellar, but because their own entertainment depended on flawless implementation. In fact, her part to play was essentially complete. Even if a few minor snares or mishaps occurred, the entertainment planned was such that no one would be leaving having not enjoyed themselves fully.
Relishing the moment, she candidly and adoringly studied him, allowing internal desires to rise as they invariably did whenever he was near. With a near jolt it occurred to her that he was growing more handsome each day. Perhaps it was just her personal prejudices, but she honestly believed it so. His face was mildly tanned from his daily rides, a faint scattering of tiny freckles across his nose and neck, and his hair was longer, having not been trimmed for several weeks, lending an air of barbarism to his normally cultured mien. Of course, his riding clothes always excited her and being half dressed meant his fine figure was readily visible.
Loving Mr. Darcy Page 36