by Emma East
Before they could even come to a complete stop, Darcy was out the door and into the night. Mr. Dunburrow was after him in a jiffy, leaving Mr. Hershel to help Elizabeth down and then hurry off after them. Shouts and screams echoed across the grounds. The screams of terrified horses. The shouts of men for more water and blankets. The horses hooked to the carriage whickered and shifted uneasily at the sights and sounds. Elizabeth looked everywhere, but there was no one left behind to help with the horses. The scent of burning wood and hay had reached them and the horses began to sidestep and neigh their displeasure.
The wheel brake wasn’t engaged. Where would one even find it? Climbing aboard the driver’s seat was impossible in her skirts, but she made the attempt to grab hold of the reins.
“Lizzy!”
Relief filled her at the sight of her sister-in-law. She was a much better horsewoman than Elizabeth, who had no natural aptitude with the creatures. “Oh, Georgiana! Thank goodness—help me with these horses. I fear they will take off and surely will hurt themselves!”
In her nightdress and robe, Georgiana gladly assisted in corralling the horses by means of climbing aboard the carriage seat. “Back up, Lizzy!”
With no need to be asked twice, Elizabeth did. Georgiana drove the horses closer to the estate and then pointed Elizabeth to where two large blocks were stored that might be put around the wheels to stop the horses running off with the coach.
“Thank goodness you and Darcy are here,” Georgiana said with a hug. Her tear-streaked face pale, she smiled tremulously at her when they pulled away, holding onto her elbows. “Though what a welcome home!”
“Come, let us go see if they need more blankets.”
They tried to make themselves as helpful as they could, running to and from the bedrooms with their arms full of linens. Outside, the stables burned and the men battled both blaze and panicked horses. Not a one of the Pemberley staff were missing. All were either helping inside or outside, faces pale, or tear-streaked, or fierce with determination. Elizabeth had never been more proud. Their dedication touched her heart.
Elizabeth joined the effort to bring refreshments outside to the hard-at-work men. Sooty-faced servants and staff gulped down the refreshments, stuffed sandwiches whole into their mouths, and then returned to assist. By the expediency of removing nearly every flammable item in the stables, the blaze was mostly under control and confined to the eastern side. Now they were left to stamp out any remaining embers and keep the horses safely away in their pens. Fitzwilliam had been instrumental in that effort, while Darcy led the men assisting fight the flames.
Colonel Fitzwilliam met her at the refreshment table when the horses were safely contained far from the stables. He looked just as tired as she felt. A black smudge marred his usually neat face, and his hair was in a state. From a distance, she hadn’t been able to tell it was her old friend and not a staff member, so equally upset was everyone’s appearance.
Colonel Fitzwilliam did not speak for several moments after arriving, too busy gulping down the tea they’d prepared. Then, wiping his mouth, he thanked her for the refreshment. “Where’s Georgiana?”
“Inside for now. She could barely keep her eyes open.”
He eyed her with some concern. “Perhaps it is time for you to retire as well.”
She smiled at his concern. “I thank you, but no. I am still needed here for morale, if anything.”
“Really, Lizzy,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “No one expects you to keel over in exhaustion. Besides, we are in the clean up phase now. You would help us by going in, so there is one less thing to worry about.”
“I did not ask you to worry about me,” Elizabeth said sharply. “No, I will be out here, supporting Pemberley, at least until my husband retires. It is our duty, Richard. Now you may take your grumbling somewhere else where it will do more good.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam had nothing to say to that. Though disgruntled, he thanked her again for the refreshment and then headed toward the stables. Elizabeth waited until he was far enough away before she leaned against the table where the pots of tea sat.
Mrs. Curling looked over with concern and Elizabeth shook her head, waving her away. “”tis just a spot of fatigue,” she murmured. She forced herself upright. No one needed to see her flagging, especially after she had admonished Colonel Fitzwilliam for calling her out. Her adrenaline had worn off long ago and the hours of road travel combined with running around Pemberley collecting blankets and supplies had left her a shell of the woman she’d been when she first woke up that morning.
She peered at her watch. Make that yesterday.
“Steady on,” she whispered to herself as she tucked her watch back into the pocket of her cloak. Tugging her lips into a smile, she gave her full attention to the new man come up for tea.
Half an hour—or longer, Elizabeth could no longer easily tell how much time had passed—Darcy met her at the refreshment table. Her heart clenched at the sight of him: dirty, abused, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his exhaustion. The well-dressed gentleman of hours before was long gone.
The lines around his eyes deepened as he beheld her. He came around the table and brushed a sweet kiss against her temple. She could smell his exhaustion, see it in his dull eyes, but he tried hard to produce a smile for her. “Come. We’ve done all we can.”
Their bed had been stripped of linens too. Elizabeth had ensured it, though there were a few members of staff who had balked at the notion of their masters being inconvenienced. Pemberley was theirs to sacrifice for, theirs to protect. Linens were nothing compared to the legacy of their family home.
Besides, neither of them noticed the bare mattress after they fell into bed. Elizabeth appreciated the cool fabric against her bruised and aching body. Beside her, her husband fell asleep instantly, his arm splayed across her bare back, his head face-first in the mattress.
“My love,” she whispered, and then she too was asleep.
On Christmas Eve morning, she awoke to find the bed next to her empty. Sometime in the night, Darcy had pulled out a robe and covered her. She stretched underneath it, her tired muscles protesting.
“I’ve called for a bath."
She lifted her head and found Darcy standing at the window, a robe covering him for the staff’s sake. She knew otherwise he would not care about being nude. She pouted at not being able to see her husband’s wonderful backside. It was a lovely backside, nice and firm from years of healthy exercise.
Groaning, she rolled out of bed and she hissed as she put her feet on the cold floor. She shivered and pulled on the robe. The fire had been stoked in the grate that morning, but it had yet to fully penetrate the early morning chill.
“What’s the damage?” she said in a husky, not-fully-awake voice as she came up behind Darcy. She slid her hands around his waist, holding him to her, stealing his warmth. He stunk of fire, but so did she. Sometime in the night her nose had become accustomed to it, but now she wrinkled her nose in renewed displeasure.
He lifted a hand to caress hers on his stomach. “The stables. Nothing important.”
“None of the stablemen were injured? The horses?”
“A few are suffering smoke inhalation, but that was self-inflicted during the aftermath. Not a man or beast was harmed.”
“We are fortunate.” She sighed with relief, looking around his shoulder to peer out at the blue-black morning. It was obscenely early, but it felt right to be up, to stand with her husband though her eyes were sticky with sleep. “Do you know the cause yet?”
“A damned fool trying to get warm,” he growled. Then, with a huff that might have been a laugh, he shook his head. “Ned was this close to throwing him out before I intervened. I’m sure he’ll be wanting the same today, now that some of his men are without a place to sleep.”
“What are you going to do with the man?”
“Make him clean up his mess,” Darcy said. “That was an expensive fire. He should stay to rebuild.”
/> She smiled against the back of his arm. Many people would have fired the individual responsible, but not Darcy. Her husband had no greater appreciation than for people who corrected their mistakes.
The man—and likely his name would be kept quiet so as to not instigate people to hold a grudge—would not be thrown out at Christmas.
“I don’t believe I’ll ever love you more than I do now, Mr. Darcy.”
He turned his head, catching her eye with his dark one. “What a strange sentiment, wife.”
She grinned. “You have a smudge on your nose.”
The servants brought in the bath shortly afterward and two girls were set to making the bed with new linens as the water was heated on the fire and then poured, steaming, into the tub. Within ten minutes, they were alone again, eying the steaming bathtub with pleasure.
“You first,” Elizabeth said, leaning against her vanity. She would attempt to free her hair from tangles as she waited.
But Darcy would have none of it. He motioned her on. “I asked for one because I assumed you would join me. Do not disappoint me.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to do that,” she said, and they soon were in the wide bath together, Elizabeth kneeling between his legs as she scrubbed his chest. Slowly, the stink of smoke was erased and replaced with lavender and thyme.
Darcy groaned as she rubbed his chest and shoulders, then down to his arms, massaging away the ache of the night’s hard work. “I will pass out if you continue so.”
“You deserve it,” she said with a smile. “I’ll bundle you back into bed yet. You woke up awfully early for how tired you must be.”
“Mm.” Darcy lifted his head, freeing the ends of his hair from the water to drip on his shoulders. He looked at her with sleepy satisfaction. “Perhaps I wished to open my Christmas Eve gift.”
The water splashing around him, he leaned forward and kissed her. She met him and it was a long, slow kiss, one of both familiarity and affection. It was a sleepy kiss, a kiss that only sought to share the other’s contentment and appreciation. There was little drama to it, and no books would be written about the passion in the kiss, but Elizabeth melted under its sweet tenderness one and the same.
When they finally broke, she nuzzled his cheek. “Perhaps I will consent to give it to you, since you asked so nicely.”
The linens were from the attic and were as freshened up as they could be. A smell of disuse hung about them, but it improved the prior smell of smoke and ash, so Elizabeth was happy to recline on them. Clean and well scrubbed, she’d never felt more at ease as she did as she curled atop the covers.
“You look as satisfied as a cat,” Darcy said as he finished toweling off.
She laughed and rolled onto her stomach, gaze following Darcy as he strode toward the fire. What a fine backside her husband had. If only he would stand still for her to admire it with sufficient depth.
“I feel as satisfied as one now that I am rid of all the ash and dust.” She picked up a wet strand of hair and sighed. “Though it will take ages for this to dry now.”
“Come stand in front of the fire then,” he said. His back to the fireplace, his skin was the flushed pink of one growing too warm too quickly. But he didn’t seem to mind and she didn’t blame him the decadence.
“But if I remain here, I get to admire my husband.”
He raised a dark eyebrow. “I had planned to return to bed, but I would not wish to interfere with your admiration of my person.”
She smiled as the tips of his ears turned pink. She did so enjoy teasing her husband. She rubbed the mattress next to her. “Hmm… perhaps I can admire you up close. I am not opposed to the idea.”
He took a step forward. “If you’re sure, madam?”
“I think so.”
“I wouldn’t wish to interrupt…”
“Come to bed, Mr. Darcy.”
His lips twitched. “Yes, Mrs. Darcy.”
Their kiss when they met in the middle of the mattress was, if possible, even sweeter than the last one. Elizabeth melted into it, her fingers sliding across the smooth, fire-warmed skin of his shoulder.
“You have the softest skin, my little cat.”
She smiled, tilting her head back to allow him greater access to her neck. He rewarded her with a tingle-inducing open-mouthed kiss on her pulse point that left her clenching her thighs together. “I think I have a very good purr as well.”
“Oh, you do,” he said, voice as dark as molasses. His hand glided down her stomach and she had no need for a fire with the warmth he left behind. She arched into his hand as he tickled her hipbones and his smile was decidedly devilish.
She made a face at him. “I’m surprised at you. Are you no longer afraid of the curse? We could be inviting a terrible fate upon us.”
“Mm, I am expecting a tornado to bear down on us at any moment, actually.”
She retaliated by drawing a line down his stomach, making him jump. She pretended not to see his mock scowl. “And what will soothe these fears, love? Perhaps happy news?”
His heavy-lidded gaze regarded her with some bemusement. “I suppose. Did you have some for me?”
“Perhaps.”
She rolled onto her back, luxuriating in the womanly pleasure of having her partner’s full admiration. She drew her hand down her sternum, over her stomach, watching Darcy’s dark eyes follow with rising anticipation. Finally, unable to take the silence anymore, she said, “It may take some time to be evident… but I expect us to have an additional guest next Christmas.”
“No.” His wide eyes darted from her stomach to her face. “No!”
Her eyebrows lifted. “No?” she said. She pulled back a fraction. “I - er, will admit that I didn’t expect such a response. Is this considered bad news to you?”
“What?” he said, rising up on his elbow. “No! No, of course it is not bad news. But if I had known beforehand—yesterday! and last night! The stress I put you through! You should see a doctor at once. I will have someone called for—”
She put a finger over his mouth. He immediately ceased speaking, a blessing and a surprise to Elizabeth. She smiled at this sign of his excitement. “I am fine, husband. I spoke to my mother’s midwife while we were in Hertfordshire. She expressed no concern and told me to remain as active as ever—it is healthier for the babe if I remain strong.”
Darcy looked dubious at this advice. “Truly? I suppose it does make some sense.”
“If you still wish to consult a doctor, then of course we shall,” she said, able to be conciliatory now that she knew the cause of his concern. However, nerves still knotted her stomach. “But you are happy, yes?”
Darcy’s eyes softened. He leaned forward, running the soft pads of his fingers across her stomach. “Unbelievably happy, Lizzy. I cannot imagine the joy I will feel when we meet our child, the embodiment of our happiness.”
“You will be a wonderful father.”
“With you by my side, I have no doubt.”
She tasted tears at the back of her throat and then Darcy was propelling her backward with the force of his ardent kiss, full of joy and excitement. When he pulled away, they were both out of breath. His eyes radiated his mirth. “I could ravish you, Mrs. Darcy.”
“Finally!”
With a laugh that sounded just as tearful, he began pressing butterfly kisses down her cheek, across her jaw, and then down her neck. Then he paused and looked up at her under a suspicious brow. “The midwife said to remain as active as ever? You’re sure?”
She smacked his shoulder. “Yes! Now do stop teasing!”
“Teasing?” He nipped at her neck and said in a severe voice, “I never tease.”
“What a terrible liar you are,” she said with a sigh as he went lower.
They had enjoyed so much of each other during their year together that it amazed her they had yet to grow bored of one another. But each time they went to bed was a new story, a new branch of lovemaking to explore. And they spent much time learning a
nd exploring the other, memorizing the other’s body; so much so that she thought she could accurately trace Darcy’s person with her eyes closed. She hoped to never find an end to the discoveries of her Darcy.
When she ran her hands over his shoulders, Darcy shook his head. “No, it is you who requires pampering.”
She smiled. It wouldn’t always be like this, but she didn’t want to deprive him of this chance to spoil her. He did so enjoy it—as did she, of course.
“My poor wife… trying to get my attention all day yesterday.” He traced a finger down her stomach, sending a pleasurable shiver coursing through her. His eyes were as warm as the fire and glimmered with appreciation. “How cruel I was to deprive you.”
“Very cruel,” she sighed as his hand dipped lower. “I thought I would expire from how much I wanted you.”
“None of that now,” Darcy said with an admonishing tut. He lowered his head and brushed gentle kisses across her ribs. She licked her lips, anticipating his hand to draw down her womanhood—and then released a groan as he tickled her thighs instead. She felt his smirk against her warm skin.
“You must be patient for me, love. Pampering takes time…” His fingers danced across her thigh, promising wicked delights.
“…attention…”
His tongue dipped into her belly button, making her shudder with sensitivity. “… and detail. It cannot be rushed.”
“Not even a little?”
“Not even a little.”
He moved down. Achingly slow. Tender and yet the wait was painful. He nibbled her hipbones, tasted the delicate skin above the juncture of her thighs. Her hips arched, urging him forward, eager to meet his sensual touch.
With soft touches, sweet caresses, Darcy made love to every inch of her. To her diligent, careful husband, pampering was no small undertaking, and he rose to the challenge.
Her gentle sighs mingled with the crackle of the fire. An orange glow painted them and the room with warm, merry light, and despite her bath she licked sweat from her lip. His sure hands cared for her pleasure, tending her moans. Dark eyes gleamed up at her, his satisfaction plain.