Yet, just as he was about to whisper that they could leave if she wished, she gazed up at him with the lively exuberance so typically Elizabeth, her voice breathless when she spoke. “We take the boats? Through the tunnel? Oh my word! William, this is incredible! Where do they lead? How do we row? It is so narrow! How far…?”
His laugh stayed her endless questions. “Here I was thinking you were nervous.” He kissed her forehead, propelling her gently toward the front boat that was being boarded. “Be patient, Mrs. Darcy. You shall see.”
The guide sat in the front, facing forward, with the ten passengers settled onto plank benches. Darcy sat on the outside with Lizzy close to his side, although his caution was probably unnecessary as the boats were inches narrower than the tunnel width, the bottom flat to lend stability, so the likelihood of capsizing was slim. The answer to Lizzy’s question of rowing was quickly revealed when the guide grabbed onto a post sticking up from the platform and pulled hard, propelling the boat forward over the water. The speed was faster than one would think, hidden undercurrents from the numerous waterfalls feeding the cavern not only creating a constant echo of rumbling water but aiding the driver’s efforts. He used embedded rails and grooves in the rock to grab onto and keep them moving. Spaced lamps swung from hooks in the ceiling, illuminating the passageway and casting ruddy glows onto the striated rock.
It was eerie but beautiful. Dozens of colors wove within the layers of limestone and gritstone, the seeping rivulets of water creating patterns over the encrusted surface. Talking was muted, even the hushed voices carrying strangely and mingling with the echo of moving water. They reached a wider pool, called Halfway House the guide informed them, where they passed another boatload of passengers returning to the dock. Spirits were high, their faces expressing their awe and pleasure as they waved to the newcomers. As they traveled on the one-boat width tunnel, the concept of time passing skewed in the dusky atmosphere, the guide told the story of the past-century’s miners searching for the lead they suspected lurked below due to the prevalence of the metal in other parts of the Peaks. It was an endeavor destined to be a financial catastrophe, unfortunately, with tourism being the only recompense.
Finally, they reached the end. A huge pile of rubble formed a beach of sort upon which they disembarked and gathered in a cluster to view the true marvel of Speedwell Cavern. Before them spread a cathedral-like cavern so huge that the ceiling was lost in darkness and so wide that the walls were a vague shadow. The entire area was the site of a vast lake known as the Bottomless Pit due to the fact that decades of excavation with thousands upon thousands of pounds of crumbled rock hewn from the tunnel system had been dumped into the pool without the water level ever changing. No appreciable dent was made, the underground lake seemingly extending to the center of the earth.
They stood on the edge, tossing rocks into the murky water, hearing the plunk as the waving surface was pierced, and wondering when, or if, the rock would finally come to rest upon another. But no one had the answer.
The ride back was quiet, no one wanting to disturb the experience with idle chitchat. It was not until they were again in their carriage heading back to Chelmbridge that Lizzy broke her dazed silence as she tried to describe the environment to Alexander. He, of course, had no idea what she was talking about, but he listened intently nevertheless!
Chelmbridge was a comfortable abode, as Darcy knew it would be. Alexander settled happily into his new surroundings and strange bed, once again proving that he was an unusually accommodating child. Lizzy and Darcy had no comparison, assuming it was fairly normal, a presumption that George found especially amusing. He humorously cautioned them to stop while they were ahead, a jest Darcy frowned at. Yet as they spent more time with the offspring of their friends, they began to realize just how fortunate they were. Not that the Vernor boys or Hughes children were unruly, but they clearly possessed degrees of naughtiness and irritability that Alexander, so far, seemed to lack.
Tonight was a perfect example. Darcy feared Alexander might be weary or especially cranky after three days away from the routine of Pemberley and his familiar surrounds, and being dragged about the rugged countryside in the heat. He was wrong.
The baby ate well of his mashed sweet yams and barley porridge, and then nursed until Lizzy was drained. Darcy assumed care from there, taking Alexander into his temporary nursery for story time while Lizzy relaxed and penned a letter to her sister, Jane. Darcy read from his novel, this time Rob Roy by Walter Scott, while Alexander reclined in his arms, sucked on his thumb, and rubbed rhythmically on one ear of his favorite stuffed toy—the hound dog Darcy had purchased so long ago at the shop in Derby, now officially dubbed “Dog” and Alexander’s constant companion. He was wide awake tonight, calm and attending to each spoken word. He stared at his father, eyes following the movement of his lips and studying the dramatic expressions Darcy added to the text as he read. Sometimes the babe fell asleep within ten minutes of warm cuddling against his father’s strongly beating heart, the musical tones of Darcy’s baritone soothing him into a deep slumber. Other times he was alert, babbling and pointing pudgy fingers on the pages opened before him as if reading along with the words.
However the interlude went, Darcy considered it his favorite time of the day. Long after Alexander fell asleep, Darcy would hold him, rocking and embracing. Frequently, time was lost in rapt contemplation of the face he loved so intensely it was a sweet ache. Like his adoration for Elizabeth, the emotions never ceased to uplift his heart and overwhelm him.
Eventually though, it was time to nestle the infant into his cushioned bed, turning his immediate care over to his devoted nanny. Several kisses later, Darcy crossed the hall to the bedchamber suite set aside for the Darcys. Mr. Logan had prepared a spacious set of rooms with a wonderful view of Mam Tor, the chambers airy and elegantly decorated. They were homey, Lizzy and Darcy settling almost as easily as Alexander had.
Darcy had no expectations for romance when he entered the room a half-hour later after washing and undressing, but one glance at his wife revised that opinion. He stopped cold four paces into the room, only able to stare as the blood instantly departed his brain for places further south.
She sat on a chair facing toward him, her long shapely legs crossed at the knees, the top one swinging gracefully. Her arms rested on the chair arms, slim fingers tapping lightly. She was smiling, that sultry smile that alone drove him mad, and her chocolate eyes glittered in the candlelight. She wore the Blue John earrings he bought her, the vivid blue and silver dangling against the ivory expanse of her neck; her thick hair was loosely piled atop her head secured with the Blue John comb, dozens of curly strands falling over her shoulders and framing her face; and the necklace of blue and yellow veined stone hung about her neck, the pendant cradled between her naked breasts. In fact, as he noted immediately upon crossing the threshold, she was completely naked. Except for the jewelry, that is. Not that he noticed them for several seconds, but once he did they added to the eroticism of the spectacle in a profound way that only weakened him further as more blood rushed to his lower regions.
“Enjoying the view, Fitzwilliam?”
“Immensely. Lovely necklace.”
“Thank you,” she said, running her fingertips seductively over the pendant and brushing the swell of her breasts. “My husband has excellent taste.”
“Indeed I do,” he murmured huskily, his roving eyes leaving no doubt that he was not referring to the jewels.
Her smile deepened. She stood and paused for effect, knowing full well that her libidinous spouse would appreciate the picture. Then she languidly strolled toward him, her lissome body swaying sensuously, meeting him where he remained rooted in the middle of the room.
He could have moved, his muscles not so weak or paralyzed, but he rather delighted in the visual treat of her slender figure sinuously approaching. She was as svelte as the day they married, but softer with lush, womanly curves in all the right places. Her breasts bo
unced pleasantly as she walked, the stray wisps of wavy hair buoyantly brushing over her lightly bronzed skin.
She encircled his shoulders and laced her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. “And how was that view? As breathtaking as the previous?”
His answer was a lascivious grin and gravelly growl as he drew her firmly against his body. “Any question as to how immensely I admired the view?” The blazing heat emanating from his skin and the aroused length of him pressing into her belly did indeed answer her redundant question.
She chuckled, succumbing rapidly to her own response, especially now that he was already kissing his way down her neck and skillfully caressing her bare flesh. She released the belt holding his robe in place, parting the satiny fabric and sliding her hands over his waist and derriere. She pressed her breasts against his chest, rubbing deliciously over the hair covering his steely muscles, and lifted on her tiptoes to capture an earlobe between her lips.
“I thought it was past time to see if this bed is as sturdy as ours at home.” And then she proceeded to lick lightly over his ear.
Darcy groaned. “Are you intending to test the craftsmanship most vigorously, my lover?”
She pulled away, her grin devilish as she peeled the robe off his shoulders and watched it fall to the carpeted floor as her eyes leisurely scanned over the masculine figure exposed. She sighed happily, hands skimming lightly over his broad upper torso and then downward over his flat, solidly muscled abdomen with feathering touches until reaching the juncture of his thighs, the pressure applied there quite firm.
Darcy shuddered, his knees flexing while the rest of his body tensed and arched at the electrifying pleasure. “Elizabeth,” he grated, clasping her face in his hands and bending to kiss her.
But she twisted in his arms, leaning backward against him with her arms again draped over his shoulders and playing with his hair. Darcy adjusted speedily, cupping a breast while his mouth busily applied nibbling caresses to her arched neck.
“I am definitely feeling the urge for aggressive, enthusiastic lovemaking and sense the same from you, yes?”
Darcy muttered a harsh yes while adjusting his posture and hold upon her body. Some minutes passed before they relocated to the bed, which held up miraculously well through what was assuredly not a gentle interlude but one of crazed passion.
Darcy collapsed beside his panting and still moaning wife, stretching alongside her shivering flesh. Lizzy sluggishly wiggled closer, laying an arm over his heaving chest and kissing his shoulder. It was several minutes before either was capable of coherent speech, but then they began to talk in soft voices about the wonders of the caverns and the delightful holiday they were having thus far. In time, Lizzy propped her head on one hand, the other lazily caressing his body. He, meanwhile, removed the decorative comb and idly played with the long tresses spilling over her back and onto his chest.
Their passion reawakened gradually as the aimless caresses roused the desires perpetually lurking under the surface. Darcy moved first, pulling her onto his body for a long kiss before rotating her onto her back to commence a focused assault. It began slow and gentle as they rolled about the bed, but eventually the heat escalated to inferno magnitude when the need to unite overwhelmed. Darcy grasped her bottom, sliding forward in a measured pace and releasing a long groan of bliss.
“William!” Lizzy gasped, clutching his head to her bosom as spasms of pleasure instantly burst through her body.
“You wanted me,” he said, impassioned voice thick and breathless near her mouth, his eyes a steaming azure as he stared at her flushed face. “God, how I love that! Feeling your release while in my arms. Lord, my Lizzy, there is nothing to compare!” He kissed her, hard and deep, lost in the moment and regulation gone as he plunged farther and fiercer with a rapidly accelerating tempo.
Abruptly, he rolled to his back, taking Lizzy with him and maintaining their connection. He grabbed onto the edge of the headboard, arching his entire back and shouting gruffly between the heavenly quakes wracking his body. Lizzy’s delirium matched his, again succumbing to the euphoria of amazing lovemaking.
Jests about the solidity of the bed, especially the hardiness of the cherry wood headboard against Darcy’s formidable potency and strength were a while in coming. But eventually, they rallied enough to assume their customary sleeping position with Lizzy embraced within her husband’s arms, a light coverlet over their love-warmed skin, and sharing a smattering of teases and declarations of eternal adoration. Tradition held with their final whispered words as they fell into satisfied, tranquilized sleep, “I love you.”
The next day they changed their tactic, deciding to drive northeast and investigate the stunning vistas and wonders found above ground.
They borrowed the Logans’ landau, the top completely folded down, loading it with necessary supplies: a large basket of food and liquids, freshly brushed blankets, and infant requirements. It was a fair day with the sun shining brightly in a brilliant blue sky with streaks of wispy white clouds. A light breeze tempered the heat, although Darcy warned that the wind in the higher elevations could be quite brisk. This only brought a wide smile to Lizzy’s face.
Within minutes, they left the sloping, rocky landscape of the Hope Valley, entering the equally sloping and rocky terrain of the Edale Vale. Initially the scenery was unchanged, but as they gradually began to climb toward the higher elevations, the subtle differences were noted. The air was cooler with the gentle breezes augmented by occasional blusters. The rock formations were not just the rubble of gritstone and limestone noted before, but often fashioned into such oddly sculpted statues that were so incredibly beautiful one felt God Himself must have touched them with His hands.
Mr. Anders drove slowly over the rough roads cut into the hills and moors. They were well traveled, but the rugged land did not always yield easily to carriage wheels, even time and traffic not noticeably smoothing the path in places. Darcy held an awake, bouncing, and bonneted Alexander in his arms. They occupied the bench across from his wife and Mrs. Hanford, both women enraptured by the view. Mrs. Hanford, especially, was glowing with an exuberance that shaved ten years off her age. Mrs. Hanford’s joy at joining the Darcy household nearly a year ago was primarily due to two factors. One, she was relieved to be dwelling near her extensive family and friends. She was born in Baslow, living there until she married Mr. Hanford when seventeen, whereupon she moved to his tenant’s cottage on the Pemberley estate. Never had she traveled away from Derbyshire; it was the only home she knew.
Therefore, her second fount of joy was in being able to continue serving the Darcy family. Proudly, she proclaimed the Hanford association with the esteemed Darcy landowners. She considered it a miracle and the greatest of honors to be granted the chance to not only maintain that connection but to do it in such a personal way.
Mrs. Hanford had contentedly raised six children and was blessed with a dozen grandchildren, so knew that caring for the Darcy baby would be a delight. Mrs. Hanford loved all children, her gift one of easy affinity with youngsters of all ages. Yet, one can’t deny that some children are easier to love and tolerate than others! Alexander was a handsome child physically, but his temperament was so carefree and amiable that falling in love with him as an individual was impossible to resist.
Her only unexpected consequence to her employment as nanny was the travel. It had never entered her mind that caring for their son and heir meant she would be accompanying them wherever they went! Of course, many aristocratic families did not travel so extensively with their children, a reality Mrs. Hanford knew to be so even if she did believe to be sad, so if Mr. and Mrs. Darcy had gone on their journeys while leaving Alexander in her care at Pemberley, she would not have been shocked. However, their devotion to Alexander was pronounced and just another of the numerous reasons she respected them and was gratified to be a peripheral part of their family.
When Mrs. Darcy had first asked for her learned opinion on how best to travel w
ith an infant, she was utterly at a loss as to what to say. Finally, she pulled herself together, stammering that she did not possess a “learned opinion” as she had never traveled far with her children, summer or winter.
“That may be so, Mrs. Hanford,” Mrs. Darcy said, “but I still trust your instincts in the matter. We have some two months to plan our trip and I am confident that your expertise with infants in general will aid in securing a safe, smooth journey for my son.” Then she leaned forward and affectionately squeezed Mrs. Hanford’s hand, smiling sincerely. “I am just glad that you will be there to assist us. Between all of us I know it will be well.”
And it was then that she fully comprehended that her future would entail more than simply the happiness of helping to raise the future Master of Pemberley and any other children the Darcys were blessed with. So far, she had been fortunate to see the lush landscapes of several counties, breathe the air and walk the fields of Kent and Hertfordshire, gaze upon the tall buildings of London, revel in the finery and jewels of the social elite, explore the wonders of grand parks and busy city streets, and so much more that she had filled two journals already. Now she was ascending the magnificent heights of the Peaks, those famous mountains and moors that were glimpses on the distant horizon all her life but never seen up close. Her exuberance was indeed bubbling, and she felt far more than ten years younger.
The tiny village of Edale was unremarkable. Their carriage rumbled along the road that wound through the narrow gorge created by the Noe, passing the huts known as booths that housed the boothmen, those hardy souls who lived in the rustic dwelling places while tending the wandering livestock that fed off the moor grasses. Edale itself was a collection of stone buildings scattered without symmetrical planning, the bare necessities provided to the local residents and not much else. Naturally there was a pub, but the ramshackle construction was dubious at best, even Darcy’s thirst for a cool ale not strong enough to brave the possibility of the place crumbling down when the door slammed behind him! The seventeenth century church sat on a lovely grassy knoll, but was plain and boasted no historical significance, so they chose not to investigate.
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