Lizzy smiled. It had not been but three weeks since visiting with Chloe, but she missed her. Suddenly, Lizzy experienced the yearning to gather all her women friends together for a lengthy afternoon of tea and gossip, deciding on the spot that as soon as she was back at Pemberley she would arrange it. Hastening to the inn, Lizzy scribbled a quick note to Chloe, confirming that she and Darcy would dine with them for dinner tomorrow. Normally, Lizzy would not be so presumptuous, such invitations necessarily being discussed with her husband, but she was too excited.
It was nearly six o’clock before Darcy finally materialized. Lizzy was passing the time catching up on correspondences to Charlotte Collins, whose baby was due shortly before her own, and her sister Lydia, who rarely responded but Lizzy continued to write as often as possible. Darcy entered briskly, energized from his training and smiling broadly as he bellowed his wife's name.
“Elizabeth! Look what I found!” His arms were laden with a mass of packages, bags dangling on both sides and bumping his knees. He looked utterly ridiculous, barely managing the knob and peeking through a small gap between two boxes. Lizzy started at his abrupt entrance, momentarily paralyzed at the small desk where she sat. Darcy swung around, searching for her through his narrow peephole, finally spying her as she rose to assist him. “Ah, there you are! Dressed too, that is good. Mr. Howe! Enter.” He pivoted toward the open door, the tower of parcels swaying dangerously as Lizzy jumped to the rescue.
“William! What in the world…?”
“Elizabeth, you will not believe my luck… Oh thank you, Mr. Howe. Place it there.” Entering cautiously was one of the inn's manservants carrying an enormous rocking horse. Lizzy retrieved three of the boxes as they tumbled from Darcy's arms, nearly dropping them herself in her astonished amazement at the horse. Darcy bent and deposited the mass of bags and packages onto the sofa, straightening with a stretch. “What a relief,” he declared, “some of those are heavy.” He turned to his wife with a grin, planting a hearty kiss as the door closed behind Mr. Howe.
“Are you going to explain all this or must I remain in suspense?”
“Yes! So, I am departing the Academy, walking down the street as I have a dozen times in the past, when I glance over, not two doors down, and there is a toy store! Can you believe I never noticed it before? This,” he patted the horses head, sending it gliding, “was in the window, calling to me as it were.”
“I see. You entered and left some time later, having bought all the merchandise the store had to offer?” She swept her arm toward the pile on the sofa with a laugh.
“Do not be ridiculous, Elizabeth. I can show some restraint when necessary.” He was beaming, Lizzy laughing harder.
“Oh really? We have a rocking horse, as you are well aware, William, as it was yours.”
“Yes, but it is quite old and used roughly. I yet need to refinish and repair it. Besides, this is the newer model set on gliders rather than large bowed rockers, and now we can station one upstairs in the playroom and the other downstairs.”
“Well, since you have apparently given this a tremendous amount of forethought, I shall not argue the matter. He really is beautiful,” she said as she gave the horse a push, stroking the polished wood, “although I am surprised he is dappled grey rather than coal black.”
She smiled at her husband, who answered absently, “They did not carry a black one.” Lizzy laughed anew. The hobbyhorse was pearly grey with a long flowing white mane and tail of genuine horsehair. The saddle was pliable leather, thick, cushioned, and tanned a rich brown. A leather detailed wool blanket lay underneath, stirrups of sturdy steel attached with durable leather straps. The horse itself sat on a raised wooden base, also polished to a gleam, metal hinges and bars through the legs providing the gentle rocking motion upon the simple sway of a child's body. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship and detail, easily imaginable as enduring for generations to come.
Darcy cleared a place on the sofa. “Here, Elizabeth, have a seat.” He dragged a chair over, sitting on the edge and reaching for the largest box. Ripping apart the strings, he explained, “The shop was amazing. Every kind of toy you could imagine, my love. Many familiar from my own youth. In fact, I am sure there are boxes in storage I have yet to uncover containing old toys of mine and Georgie's. However, there were many that were unusual to me. Of course, you will recognize these.” Inside was a collection of building blocks, at least fifty, of all shapes, sizes, and colors.
Lizzy laughed. “I always wanted blocks, but it was not considered a girl's toy. These are wonderful, William.” With sudden stunned amazement she stared at her husband. “You carried these all the way from Oak Street?”
Darcy flushed slightly. “Well, no. They piled the parcels into a wheelbarrow and a clerk followed me with them. I only carried them from downstairs. I did carry the horse all the way, if that impresses you sufficiently.” He grinned and flexed his right arm, Lizzy laughing and leaning in for a kiss.
One by one, the packages and bags were opened, disclosing a vast array of child's playthings: three spinning tops, colorful and of varied sizes; a Chinese yo-yo; a spectacular army of minutely detailed tin soldiers, American Colonials and His Majesty's Regimentals; a Jack-in-the-Box; a replica of Admiral Nelson's flagship HMS Victory inside a glass bottle; four stuffed animals consisting of another dog, an elephant, a bull, and a lamb; and four dolls.
“Dolls?” Lizzy asked with arched brows.
“I know you are certain the baby is a male, but just in case you are wrong, or for our daughter, whenever she is created.” He smiled and caressed Lizzy's face.
Lizzy turned and kissed his palm, chuckling as she said, “Very sweet, my love, but since I am the one blessed with all the aches associated, let us take this process one baby at a time.” Three of the dolls were fairly standard, with porcelain heads and beautifully painted faces, garbed in frilly dresses over softly stuffed bodies. The last was simply the strangest doll Lizzy had ever seen. “Is it a little Indian doll?” she asked.
Darcy explained, with the enthusiasm he customarily showed whenever confronted with something strange or unique, “Exactly! It is designed after the dolls the natives of the Americas play with. It makes sense, does it not? All girls play with dolls based on what they are familiar with. You have seen the drawings. They wear their hair long and braided, with beaded leather dresses and shoes. Is she not lovely?” In fact, she was exactly as he described and as Lizzy had seen in the papers. Browned cloth skin and black bead eyes, black yarn braided on each side of the head, the dress and moccasins sewn with tiny multihued beads, all constructed over a cushiony body.
A smaller bag contained two carefully wrapped baby rattles. One was of silver with many tiny silver bells attached to the outside and a knob of coral on the end for sucking on. The second was a gourd painted with a tropical scene of palm trees, foam cresting waves on the seashore, and brilliant blue sky, attached to a handle of burnished ivory.
The remaining packages contained a half a dozen odd puzzles. Puzzles of entangled wires looped about into shapes, others of wood carved into knots, one with string and metal balls threaded into an intricate shape, and the last two were wooden Burr interlocking puzzles shaped as a pyramid and a horse. All were brainteasers, the idea to figure out the mystery of how they were formed. “I had many of these when a boy,” Darcy proclaimed. “By far my favorite pastime. I love trying to figure out how they are constructed. I know for a fact I have several of these yet hidden in a storage box, but these are different.”
Lizzy was overwhelmed, Darcy grinning like a cat after swallowing a canary. He grasped her hands and pulled her onto his lap, cuddling her into his arms. “William, you are too wonderful. You do too much…”
He halted her with a kiss. “Hush, Elizabeth. I can never do enough to express my love and appreciation for what you have given me, my beloved wife.” He flattened a hand over the swell of their child, smoothing her gown taut to better visualize the bulge. “This,” he smiled, care
ssing tenderly, “and you are the greatest gifts I have ever received in all my life. I will take care of you as I deem appropriate.”
Lizzy frowned nonetheless, “I understand this, dearest, but are you sure of the expense? You have been so extravagant.”
He nodded, kissing her forehead. “Elizabeth, you have seen my ledgers and know the financial burden is not a hardship. Besides, I have been saving and planning for my family for years. There is no concern. Now, let me hold you and feel our son for a spell before I freshen up for dinner.”
Dinner was delicious. Afterward, the Darcys tarried in the common room to listen to a traveling minstrel sing and play a lute. He was excellent, and the room filled to capacity with cheering listeners. It was entertainment of a sort Lizzy had never partaken of; she and Darcy sat snuggly together at a corner table sipping wine as the troubadour displayed his talent with an eclectic mix of mournful ballads, folk hymns, and lively dance tunes.
Upon later reentering their temporary bedchamber, Lizzy spied her husband in his robe sitting on a chair and examining one of the string and metal puzzles with deep intensity. She observed him unawares for a few moments, desire allayed with wondering if he would solve the mystery. He was leaning with elbows on knees, brows knitted with those precious creases visible, fingers traveling purposefully over the pieces. He turned, wiggled, and pressed in concentration. Suddenly grasping two of the steel rings with an expression of abrupt perception, his hands blurred as he twisted a piece. The pieces separated and Darcy released a satisfied shout.
Lizzy smiled, applauding in pride. “Bravo! My brilliant spouse.”
Darcy glanced up with a smile of smugness, rapidly replaced with stunned awe and raging ardor as the pieces fell from slack hands. “My god, Elizabeth! You are… ravishing! Where did you buy that gown?”
Raising her arms, Lizzy performed a swaying dance as she twirled about. “Oh, this old thing? Do you like it, my lover?”
The gown in question was black satin and clinging to every curve. The bodice gathered under barely concealed breasts and split open between to reveal her cleavage; string thin straps crossing over creamy shoulders and down her back. The back of the gown was essentially nonexistent, the fabric covering her bottom just barely. The long skirt was slit in four places all the way to mid-thigh, flashes of leg tantalizing as she danced.
Darcy was instantly aroused, the vision of his wife in swaying satin nearly more than he could tolerate. It was not only the visual stimulation but also the joy in these constant gifts she sprung on him, all for the express purpose of pleasing him. Of course, she most assuredly reaped the benefit of his intense delight. With a sultry smile he rose, slowly traversing the space separating them, Lizzy watching with bright eyes.
Reaching tender fingertips to caress over her cheeks, jaw, neck, and then to her shoulders, he slipped a finger under each slim strap. He huskily spoke, holding her gaze, “The gown is stunning. However, the true magnificence is found sheathed inside the satin.” He traced over her collarbone, trailing fire downward to brush fleetingly over each hard nipple. “It is always you, best loved wife, who completes any outfit, rendering it supreme and me your slave.”
Continuing the fiery assault over her flesh, Darcy augmented the torrential sparks flowing through her by applying lips to the tender skin behind her ear. Lizzy shivered, moaning faintly as he maintained a steady, leisurely devotion to every inch of her. Murmuring love and adulation as he kissed her, his hands traveled from her hair to upper thighs as he moved over and around her body. Standing behind her now, pulling the lush mass of hair aside, he administered the same dedication to her back. Kissing and licking the nape of her neck, down the entirety of her spine to sumptuous buttocks, his hands stroked her lovingly.
Lizzy arched backward, sighing with pleasure. “I love you, Mrs. Darcy, immeasurably,” he whispered into her ear, nibbling the lobe. “So beautiful, desirable, and sensual. Mmmmm… you smell delicious enough to feast on and I believe I shall do just that.” He cupped her breasts, pulling her against his chest, sucking delectably over her neck and shoulders. “Thank you, my beloved luscious lover, for striving to thrill me further. Although you need nothing to heighten your beauty and power over me, I do appreciate your enthusiasm and effort.” He pressed into her body, groaning hoarsely. “Love, my precious love. You provoke me to astounding reaches of desire. Never have I imagined such raging passion as with you, my Lizzy. I so love you!”
“Fitzwilliam, take me to bed.”
Darcy smiled, lips tickling her shoulder blades. “I have a better plan.” He kissed her neck, grasping shoulders and turning her about. “Go stand by the window, sweet wife, whilst I douse the lights.”
She did as he asked, waiting and watching as he glided about the chamber extinguishing each lamp. He approached with sinewy grace, eyes indigo, and desire proudly evident. Darcy untied his robe, exposing his multitude of masculine attributes to his wife's thirsty stare. “So powerful and virile you are, my heart. All of you alluring and sublimely male.”
Darcy smiled. “It is you, Elizabeth. You move me and arouse my potency as never previously attained. I confess I am still frequently shocked at how I respond to your love. I never reacted so grandly until I began loving you.” He cupped both hands around her slender neck, his thumbs caressing over her jaw and his fingers laced into her hair. Leaning in, he licked lightly over her full lips before claiming her entire mouth, inner and outer, in an all-encompassing kiss.
Lizzy encircled his waist, hugging tight and arching into his body with a sibilant moan. For long moments they embraced, kissing and caressing with ever increasing passion. Darcy finally broke away with a raspy growl, panting heavily. “Turn around. Let me show you how desperately I yearn for you.”
Obeying with a nod, Lizzy faced the window. Moonlight shone faintly on the rippling surface of the river, millions of stars twinkling, the pale light bathing Lizzy's skin with a bluish glow. Darcy fondled warm hands over the curves of her hips, down firm thighs and around to the sensitive inner flesh, satin sliding sensuously. Gliding hands over the precious prominence created by their child, upward to cherish each breast, again drawing her securely onto his body.
“I shall love you here in the moonlight with your succulent body merged with mine. Moving, always moving as our passion rises to heavenly heights. I shall possess you with my body as you possess my soul. You, Elizabeth Darcy, my wife and eternal love.” As he finished speaking, voice low and vibrant, he ran one hand up her spine while bending her body slightly and initiated the delicious process of wholly loving his wife.
Slowly, leisurely they loved, caressing as passion rose. They were lost to increasing sensations, sighing and moaning in need. Darcy kept his eyes open, marveling at her beauty in the reflective light and her roaring response to him, overjoyed at her blatant pleasure, and always with love spiraling unimaginably as his own ardor escalated until he felt the intense bliss gathering to a point of uncontrollability.
Passion cresting until neither wished to hold back, tumbling over as souls melded in the process. Immediately, Darcy pulled her upward and onto his burning chest, enveloping her with trembling arms and delivering moist kisses along her glistening neck as he panted with gradually declining rapture.
“Elizabeth, my beautiful love, my soul, my delight and life. How amazing you love me! My joy is fulfilled with you, so perfect you are.” Lizzy tarried in a place of heavenly stupefaction, allowing his words of veneration to wash over her consciousness as his hands tenderly caressed her arms.
“Fitzwilliam,” she whispered, “I love you.” Darcy smiled with supreme happiness, brushing her lips and then sweeping her into his arms, carrying her to the bed.
They nestled close, face to face with hands entwined and fingers lightly caressing. Darcy played with her lush curls, a favorite pastime, while Lizzy feathered through the downy hairs on his chest. All the while eyes mere inches apart were locked in a loving gaze, one or the other frequently leaning for a kiss. O
ddly, considering their busy day and recent strenuous activity, neither felt overly tired.
Darcy brushed over the satin of her gown. “You never told me where you bought this scandalous gown.”
Lizzy giggled. “Scandalous? Madame du Loire is French and you know the reputation they have! Apparently, it is well founded as she creates an entire line of such decadent garments for clients so inclined. I must have an invisible sign stamped on me for those able to discern that shouts, ‘Her husband is insatiable and she is licentious.’ The third time I visited her shop for a fitting, she brought out the short chemise from Christmas Eve that you so love.” Darcy smiled salaciously in remembrance. Lizzy continued with a laugh, “Yes, I think I must have had a similar expression on my face, beloved, for when she asked me how I ‘enjoyed’ the chemise, suddenly a dozen scanty bedroom garments appeared, each more scandalous than the last. So now I have a collection and don a new one every so often for the humorous cast of your face when you see me, not to mention the sexual delights as a result.” She kissed his chuckling lips.
“I shall have to extend my appreciation to Madame du Loire,” he said, stroking enticingly down her waist and hip.
“You shall do no such thing, William! I would die of embarrassment. I still blush scarlet when she shows me her latest creation.”
“Yet, you purchase it,” Darcy interjected with a grin.
“Well, of course! Mortified speechless I may be, but not stupid. I am abundantly thankful she knows my size and I need not have them fit. Again, it is all your fault, but the sensations rushing through my body when I wear one of these filmy lingerie, as the French call them, are most inappropriate for a public house!”
Loving Mr. Darcy Page 43