George chuckled, pushing her gently but firmly into the chair. “You will figure it out. Now, drink and eat all the fruit. No arguments! Then sleep. Tomorrow will be brighter, I am sure of it.”
Lizzy grunted but took a large bite of apple even as she glared at the doctor’s retreating back. She stared into the flames as she absently chewed and sipped, rehashing dinner over and over. Had she misinterpreted? It certainly is true that she had barely looked at her husband, shame and nervousness sapping every ounce of fortitude.
“What a blasted coward I am!” she muttered, throwing the core into the flames and sending sparks flying.
When George had informed her they were all to dine together that night, couching it as an order, she had grown weak with anxiety and relief. Her improving spirits did not like acknowledging that she needed someone else to push her, but that was the fact of it. Armed with determination to take a positive step toward reuniting with her husband, even if it meant groveling, she chose her attire carefully, dressing to entice as well as bolster her confidence. If all else failed, simple seduction may do the trick!
What she had not anticipated was his effect on her. Hearing his resonant voice, smooth as melted chocolate, forcibly pierced her heart before she entered the room. Waves of the purest lust jolted through her, quite unexpected considering the apathy of the past months, with heat rendering her muscles weak. Her cheeks flamed and her musings were so libidinous that she was afraid to look at him. Then when she did, it only multiplied the emotions a thousand fold. Yet he was frowning and so rigid in his chair that her heart sank, sadness warring with the desire until she could not speak for fear of falling to pieces.
Dinner was torture, but she could now admit that the chaotic sensations were not conducive to clear analyzing. Lizzy sighed, the prune pits following the apple core into the fire. George swore he did not brew her evening tea with any sedative herbs, but inevitably she grew sleepy after drinking it. Just as well, she thought, perhaps my dreams will be better than the dismal reality.
A few hours later Elizabeth was dreaming.
She and William were on a beach. It was not Caister-on-Sea, but rather an empty expanse of sandy shore with no hint of habitation. The waves lapped gently against the sparkling sand, the roar of the tides was muted, the call of birds rang in the azure sky, and the sun shone warmly on their naked bodies. They lay on a spread blanket, entwined and caressing. His hard body covered hers, the heat rising far beyond what the blazing sun administered as his hands moved expertly over her skin.
It was delicious! Delirium mounted with each kiss and caress.
Her sleeping body writhed and tingled as her dream-self responded to her lover. No words were uttered. None were necessary as their hearts beat in unison and passion overwhelmed. Joy and pleasure were exalting as they moved together in tune with rapture certain and cataclysmic when it occurred.
Slumbering-Lizzy cried out, waves of delight sweeping through her flesh as dream-Lizzy clutched onto her husband’s inflamed figure, neither Lizzy wanting the sensations to ebb.
Then, as dreams have a way of doing, she was suddenly standing on the water’s edge. William was swimming away, far beyond the safety of the gentle waves. She called to him, panic spiraling, but he did not look back. She rushed into the now surging tide, realizing with a start that she was clothed in the gown worn at dinner. The heaving surf dragged at the thick cloth, tangling it about her legs as she screamed for her lover to return. But he grew smaller and smaller until only a dot of dark hair. Then he was gone.
Lizzy cried in anguish, vaulting up in her bed as wakefulness crashed over her. Her heart beat wildly, the lingering sensations of sexual excitement and dreadful loss rushing through her cells. The blankets were a knotted mess, her legs trapped, and she flailed crazily to freedom. William’s side of the bed was empty, the covers disrupted from her thrashing, but the pillow was plump and mattress smooth.
She released a choked sob, lunging from the bed and grabbing the carefully folded robe from the chest at the end of the bed. It was his old robe, freshly splashed with his cologne. She had taken to wearing it again the past few days, the fabric comforting, but also a vivid reminder of the emptiness in her soul. She thought of that now as she dashed from the room, inhibitions completely gone. Flying on bare feet down the hall to the stairs, she prayed he was in the study or library. What if he had had enough, especially after the disastrous dinner, and left entirely? Gone to London or anywhere to escape her. The thought caused all air to vacate her lungs and she ran faster.
The library was dark and vacant. He was found in his study, and Lizzy nearly collapsed from the relief. She paused on the threshold, clutching the solid wood, and gazed at him where he slept on the sofa with soft snores reaching her ears. The fire burned low, one lit lamp on the nearby desk casting a liquid golden glow over his handsome face. He lay with his head resting on a small cushion, lips parted and thick lashes lying on shaven cheeks. He wore long trousers, boots discarded, and his shirt. A thin quilt covered partially, one leg bent and resting against the sofa back. It was clear that he intended to sleep here all through the night, purposefully choosing the hard, narrow sofa over the comfort of their spacious bed.
She hesitated, sadness causing her to tremble. Perhaps he does not want me? Then she remembered George’s assurances of William’s confusion and grief. She entered, kneeling by his side and taking the cold hand that dangled over the sofa’s edge. She kissed it and pressed it to her cheek, tears welling, as the fingers of her other hand lightly traced over his face. Reverently touching each precious feature, holding his hand tightly as it warmed, she murmured, “I love you so, William. Please forgive me. Tell me you love me as well.”
He mumbled indecipherably, turning his head toward her gently stroking fingertips. The hand lying on his chest rose slightly, golden band glinting in the firelight with fingers seeking before falling sleepily. “Elizabeth…”
“Yes! It is I! Wake up, William. Please! I love you and need to feel your eyes upon me.”
He groaned, stretching and lightly clasping her hand as he bestowed a tiny kiss to the palm. “My Lizzy,” he mumbled, beginning to turn toward the hand touching his face, his dreams incorporating the fleshly reality and holding fast.
“No, dearest, wake up! I am here and I love you!”
Suddenly his eyes flew open, dazed and uncomprehending. He saw her, but rather than gathering her into his arms as she so desperately needed, he released her hand and sank further into the sofa. “Elizabeth? Is something wrong? The babies?”
“No, no. They are fine. Soundly asleep.” He dropped his gaze to the hand she held cinched next to her cheek, returning to her eyes with confusion evident. As she gathered her thoughts, observing him in the dim illumination, she could detect the faint hope deep in his eyes.
“Beloved”—his brows rose at the endearment—“I… I dreamt of you tonight. We… we made love on the beach in broad daylight as you always wished we could.” She smiled, feathering hungry fingers over his befuddled face. “It was so beautiful. You were beautiful. I felt you… truly felt you, even beyond my dream. I… desired you as I have not in weeks and it was wonderful. Only it was not real. And then you swam away and refused to answer me and I woke terrified to find you gone, again, and I needed to see you, touch you, and tell you that…”—she sobbed—“I love you and that if you do not, I understand, but I will die and…”
“Please, Elizabeth, do not cry! I cannot bear to see your tears anymore!”
She shook her head, pierced by the pain in his gaze. “I do not want to cry anymore, my love. I just want to hold you.” And she leaned forward, capturing his mouth in an encompassing kiss.
He moaned, encircling her back and lacing sturdy fingers through the hair on her head, drawing her tightly to his body, and returned the kiss with all the pent up agony released in their yearning to reconnect.
It may only be a dream, he thought, but it is a dream I want and need.
Li
zzy broke the kiss first, but not to draw farther than his neck. Hundreds of warm kisses and nibbles were bestowed, hands traversing the quivering plains of his chest as buttons were undone and fine linen pushed aside.
“Sweet Lord! I love you, Elizabeth!” Darcy gasped, his emotions surging blissfully. Dimly he heard his uncle’s voice: You are a fool. It seemed impossible that he had ever doubted their love as her luscious lips and arousing hands declared a passionate need. Yet the residuals of fear remained. He stroked her back and shoulders, vocalized his pleasure, but allowed her to lead.
Kissing down the middle of his torso to the rigid muscles of his flat abdomen, she lifted the shirt upward and attacked the area with gusto.
“Oh God…” he moaned, arching his hips as his head fell back, giving in to the sensations.
The shirt was rolled away as she kissed back up to his neck, catching the fabric around his outstretched arms as he lifted to assist. She paused then, holding his hands captive over his head, and gazed into his dark orbs.
“We shall talk later, my soul. There is so much to say, for me to apologize for…” She kissed him to halt the negation, stilling his shaking head with a gentle grip to his chin before leisurely rubbing downward toward his groin. “Right now I only want to show you how much I love you,” she whispered against his lips, “show that I am sorry, show that you are everything to me.” She suckled along his jaw to earlobe, voice husky amid his rising moans. “I want to renew our bond, bring you pleasure as you have me, give and give until you cry with joy. Please, Fitzwilliam! Let me love you!”
Darcy absorbed every word through the mists of heightened ardor, his body rocking and trembling in response to her tactile stimulation. Crashing sensations burned stupendously and clouded his senses. The trials of the past months faded into nothingness. She was here, beside him, electrifying every nerve, filling his heart with healing phrases far more beautiful than the fervor of their mutual lust.
She released his hands, the shirt falling forgotten to the floor, and he instantly grasped her tightly. Ravenous hands explored the contours of her shape, kneading and stroking, reacquainting themselves with the beloved flesh as familiar to him as his own.
Lizzy drew away, standing as Darcy wheezed No! But she only spared a moment, the robe falling in a puddle at her feet, before straddling his thighs and merging in one smooth motion. They simultaneously expelled loud sighs of pleasure and then laughed. Darcy sat up partway, clutching her to his chest and cupping her face as she began to sway with a rhythm as old as time, yet forever satisfying.
He kept her close, lips and noses touching, eyes locked with heated passion blazing. The furious, maniacal urgency of a few moments ago waned somewhat in the gratification of feeling the other’s body surrounding. They absorbed the flowing energy and mutual love with no desire to rush the experience.
“I love you, my wife.”
“I love you, my husband.”
The endearments and affirmations fell interspersed with nuzzles and fondles. The pace quickened after long minutes of temperate loving, finally culminating with blinding rapture. They fell to the sofa, harsh gasps echoing through the room and sweat glistening flesh heaving as they clung together.
Lizzy buried her face in his neck, sobs of joy caught in her throat. I will not cry! I am done with tears! She breathed deeply of his masculine scent, that magnificent mixture of woodsy cologne, musky perspiration, and some unidentifiable aroma only present when they made love. It soothed her.
In time their hearts returned to fairly normal paces. Darcy moved then, shifting until her face was near his, fingers stroking lightly over her cheek. He smiled, eyes radiant and shining, his voice rich with throbbing emotion. “There is nothing to talk about, Elizabeth, if you say again that you love me.”
She laughed breathily, the last vestiges of anxiety releasing in a gush. “With all my heart I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy, now and for all eternity.”
His grin was enormous, dazzling her senses seconds before he kissed her, rolling toward the back of the sofa as he embraced her so securely she could barely breathe. Yet before the need for oxygen invaded the fantastic delight of his lips, he released her, rolling and rising to his feet in one graceful motion. She propped on an elbow, admiring unabashedly as he fastened his trousers and bent for the discarded quilt. A second later she was enveloped in the material and swooped into his arms heading for the door.
“Where are you taking me?” she teased, tenderly biting along his neck and utterly indifferent to her naked dangling feet and bare shoulders—not that it was likely they would encounter anyone in the middle of the night.
“To our bed where I intend to kiss every inch of your skin and make love to you again and again until you fall asleep exhausted and satiated in my arms. Then I intend to keep you there for at least one or two whole days and do the entire procedure over again. Numerous times. Does this meet with your approval?”
“Indeed it does.”
He was serious, adhering to his promise with gleeful dominance, not that Lizzy argued the matter. It was a welcome respite, in fact. In an uncharacteristic display of laziness, Lizzy barely left the bed for a week. Darcy was there every minute, frequently expressing his happiness in a physical way, but also joyously assuming care of Michael. Father and son’s relationship flourished during those days, Darcy falling deeply in love with the three-month-old whose unique personality was swiftly emerging. Alexander joined them, the family of four playing together on the large bed for long hours at a time.
On Christmas Eve the foursome gathered in the upper story bedchamber after dining with their guests. Darcy read the nativity poems of Henry Vaughan and the first Christmas story from the Bible until both boys were soundly asleep. He sat the Bible aside and glanced to Lizzy, who was barely awake and propped half reclining with Michael curled against her chest. No words were spoken but communication was clear. He smiled, brushing lightly over her cheek before leaning to extinguish the bedside lamp, and then drew Alexander into his embrace. They slept as a family, unknowingly beginning a tradition that would carry down through the years.
Christmas came, Lizzy’s crazed planning paying off in a lavish celebration with local friends that could now fully be enjoyed. Everyone noted the restoration to the Lizzy they had grown to love, although no one commented of course.
Nevertheless, Lizzy’s full recovery from the strange illness that had beset her was gradual. There were moments after their heavenly reunion when emotions and melancholy assaulted her. Thankfully, they rapidly receded both in frequency and intensity. Darcy was never far from her side, his attentiveness more acute than typical and welcomed by Lizzy. George insisted on administering the special herbals and dietary requirements to reestablish the balance to her body, but as he had suspected, reuniting with her husband was the best medicine.
By the time they packed up their belongings and two children for the trip to Netherfield for the event of Kitty Bennet’s wedding, Lizzy’s symptoms were eradicated and she was her old self in every way. The mutual love the young family innately possessed was more than adequate to overcome the months of hardship.
As with many such trials one faces in life, this was one they would never forget or wish to repeat; yet they could not deny that further lessons were learned and their bond was stronger as a result.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Again at Netherfield
Where are you two boys off to?”
Darcy turned toward his wife. “Nowhere in particular…”
“The stables!” interrupted the ringing voice above his head.
Lizzy laughed, glancing at her sheepish husband before gazing into the shining eyes of Alexander, perched on Darcy’s shoulders. “Well, it is nice to know you have learned the lesson of honesty, Alexander.”
“We plan to start in the stables, but one never knows where one may end up. That is all I meant,” Darcy intoned with a straight face, reaching to tickle Michael, who was waving every limb in wild mirth from hi
s comfortable roost in Lizzy’s arms.
“Of course. Alexander, you understand that Xerxes is not here but home at Pemberley with the other ponies?”
“Yes, Mama. Papa say we ride Moon.”
“Oh, did he now?” She looked sharply at her spouse, who was now making faces at a giggling Michael. “Do you really think this wise, Fitzwilliam?”
“Moon is as docile as old Sheba. We will only be walking around the yard. Nothing more, I promise, and he will be on my lap. I will hold on very tight, dearest. You need not worry.” He bent to kiss her on the cheek, securely clasping Alexander’s legs to his chest, and then blew into Michael’s neck, sending the baby into fresh gales of laughter.
Lizzy looked from her sincere husband to the enthusiastic face of her firstborn and sighed. When it came to horses her authority was nonexistent. Darcy’s infatuation with all things equestrian had been passed to Alexander.
“Very well. Just be careful.”
“You know I will.” Darcy caressed her chin. “I love you, Mrs. Darcy. Have fun with your mother and sister planning wedding minutiae.”
“I am sure I will, although Mama will be heartbroken not to greet her favorite son-in-law.”
“She can share her delight in my presence tonight,” he responded to her tease. “Perhaps by then the bulk of her raptures will be exhausted.”
“I would not count on that! So you will not be taking tea with us?”
He winced. “Ah, well, I was thinking I would take Alexander into Meryton later and…”
Lizzy shook her head as she rose to bestow a tender kiss. “I understand. Be prepared for some scolding, however, as my mother is anxious to see Alexander and will be vexed that you have spirited him away.”
“I daresay she will be easily comforted in spoiling Michael all afternoon. Feel free to expose my selfishness in keeping Alexander with me before he is diverted by dozens of cousins come tomorrow. Undoubtedly I will barely glimpse any of you once Netherfield is descended upon.”
The Trouble with Mr. Darcy Page 10