In the Arms of Mr. Darcy

Chapter Twelve Georgiana Darcy, Debutante

Darcy’s second season in London as a married man with a glorious wife and perfect son proved to be a joyous relief from the agonizing years of his bachelorhood and worries of Elizabeth’s health that had plagued their first sojourn in Town, but a fresh misery was there as he embarked on the demanding task of chaperoning his debuting sister.

The usual pressure of business matters left languishing for the bulk of the winter, with the residual effects of the Derby mill fire to contend with, kept him busy during the daylight hours. Long hours sequestered with Mr. Daniels, various conferences with purchasers of Pemberley’s products, meetings with Duke Grafton and his shipping partners, and sundry new endeavors to diversify and invest the Darcy wealth were a constant drain on his time. Of course, he loved the challenge and excitement of commerce in all its forms, so did not remotely think to bemoan the obligation. Social commitments were chosen wisely due to their infant son’s requirements. It was a valid excuse utilized by Darcy to refuse the bulk of offerings extended. Darcy would have been perfectly content to spend each and every night alone with his wife and son with only a handful of intimate gatherings to upset their isolation. His wife, not surprisingly, disagreed with this option, not only for her personal delight in socializing and theatrical entertainments, but also for her keen desire to advance her husband’s prestige. Darcy thought it was ridiculous, but Lizzy insisted, so short, well-planned excursions were frequent.

As the previous Season had proven, having a wife gracing his arm at the endless soirees and galas greatly eased his discomfort in social situations. For the most part Darcy discovered that he could enjoy the events to a degree, although it would be common to note him standing apart from the fray in silence or reserved conversation. As was typical from the time he first entered Society as a young man, he warred between a desire to escape to the serene confines of Derbyshire while simultaneously embracing pleasure in the pursuits he enjoyed that could only be found in London, and the diverse intellectual conversation amongst his peers. However, it was less of a struggle now, and he was again surprised to note the increased freedom and joy he felt in all aspects of his life.

In fact, it may have been close to perfection if not for Georgiana.

Oh, not Georgiana specifically, but the emotional trauma involved in her introduction to Society was enormous. Darcy would be forever grateful to Lady Matlock for her invaluable assistance, not certain he would have survived the process otherwise! In general Darcy was not the type of man, or guardian, who apportioned his responsibilities. However, as in the case of debuting at the Court of St. James, the influence and knowledge of Lady Matlock also proved instrumental in acquiring the necessary sponsorship for admission to Almack’s Social Club.

Acceptance by the Patronesses of Almack’s posed an entirely different set of hurdles.

James Darcy had submitted his son’s name for the Season following his eighteenth birthday. Darcy had pleaded with his father to spare him the trauma, but the elder Mr. Darcy was firm. His son would appear at Almack’s Club, the concept of rejection unfathomable. Besides, where else would he find an appropriate marriage partner? Fitzwilliam Darcy, heir to Pemberley and the Darcy fortune, was not rejected, and dutifully attended dozens of assemblies over the years, maintaining his yearly subscription as expected. He enjoyed the balls at Almack’s as much as he did any others—that is to say not much—but he was wise enough to recognize the importance. In his ceaseless quest to discover the shadowy woman of his dreams, Almack’s was the logical place to triumph. Also, as the years unfolded, he came to realize that his participation and cultivation of a positive reputation would aid Georgiana’s inclusion when the time came. As much as he personally abhorred a large portion of the game, it was the way of his world.

One never knew the conversations that took place in the upper room where the seven Patronesses gathered to review each applicant. Why some were accepted and others not was often abundantly clear due to some glaring deficiency in the candidate or the family, but at times there seemed to be no logical reason. The power wielded by the Countess of Jersey, the Countess de Lieven, the Marchioness of Londonderry, Lady Cowper, Lady Sefton, the Austrian Princess Esterhazy, and the Baroness Willoughby de Eresby was absolute and irrefutable. Their good opinion once lost was indeed lost forever, and the shame was profound.

Thus it was with tremendous relief when, on the morning following the presentation at Court, the courier arrived to deliver the voucher printed with Georgiana’s name endorsed by the Countess de Lieven in her finely scrolled signature. Darcy held the ticket in his hand as he walked to the parlor where his sister and wife relaxed with Alexander, the initial flare of bursting pride steadily waning. Despite a previous vague fear that his sister may be rejected, it was now that his real apprehensions began.

Georgiana took one look at the paper in her brother’s hand and launched from her chair with a squeal of delight. Darcy suddenly felt bereft of air. She danced about the room gleefully, receiving hugs from Lizzy, while Darcy thought he might faint. Or cry. For the first time it truly penetrated his mind that his “baby” sister was a woman. It was quite probable that by the end of these months in Town, she could be betrothed and taken away from him.

Why it had never dawned on him in precisely this light, he could not say. But there it suddenly was, and he peered into her radiant face as she chatted exuberantly about dances and handsome suitors, seeing the child of his imagination no longer. His heart constricted with a piercing cold rushing through every cell of his body. Visions of the typical Almack’s atmosphere with the unwed of both sexes on the prowl, flirtation blatant and bold, declarations and proposals rampant, rapid courtship the motive, and plotted assignations common caused him to search for the nearest chair!

In her exuberance, Georgiana was oblivious to her brother’s distress. His wife noted his reaction and was amused, but also aching for what she knew was a difficult epiphany for the overly protective man.

“Talk to me, love,” she whispered to him later that afternoon when he joined her in their bedchamber for Alexander’s meal. The four-and-a half-month-old curled his fist around his father’s index finger, both hands lying atop the swell of breast currently providing the babe’s nourishment.

“Do you have any idea how foolish I feel? I have watched my sister mature with enormous pride these past few years, especially under your tutelage. I have plotted her entrance into Society with a precision Colonel Fitzwilliam would be hard pressed to match. I have even considered the appropriate qualifications for her future husband. Yet for all that, I did not envision her actually with a man.” He released a pained snort, shaking his head. “How pathetic is that? But I cannot deny that the image of my sister clasping onto the arm of some stranger is like a knife in my chest.”

“If it is any consolation, I honestly do not think this is a picture you will be forced to witness in the near future.”

“How can you be so sure? I hesitate to bring it up, but she has been known to fall in love, or what she thought was love, in a hasty manner.”

“You know even more than I that the circumstances surrounding Wickham were unique. It is unlikely that the adolescents or other gentlemen haunting Almack’s will be quite so devious.”

“Perhaps not in the same way or with the personal incentive, but my sister will be highly prized in the marriage market. Which, as much as I abhor the fact, is largely why Almack’s exists.”

Lizzy laughed, gazing into her husband’s worried eyes. “Oh really? Is that why you went? To seek out a prized bride?”

He grimaced, and then chuckled. “You know it was. What else would induce me to suffer the trauma of such a place? Alas, you were never there, so my agony was prolonged.”

“Poor Mr. Darcy.”

“Yes, and do not forget it,” he said, leaning to place a soft nibble on her earlobe before straightening and resuming the gloomy topic. “I may have disdained the game, Elizabeth, but the reality is that every gentlemen and lady attends Almack’s not for the dancing. It is to flirt and size up whether a prospective partner is appropriate. Emotions are high with that kind of atmosphere. Desires are encouraged to run free. Everyone is gay and beautiful. It is easy to fall in love there.”

“Once again you are underestimating Georgiana. The affair with Wickham wounded her more than I think you know. But it also taught her valuable lessons and matured her in ways not so easily discernable. Oh, do not frown! I think at this point Georgie would be hard pressed to recollect what Wickham even looked like, so her scars are well healed. But the education runs deep. She will not make that mistake again, I can promise you that.”

She transferred Alexander to her shoulder for his mid-meal burping. Clearly he was not satiated, his eyes and mouth wide open as he submitted to the necessary pause. Darcy brought his face to the infant’s level, instantly and unconsciously creating silly expressions that elicited a sunny smile and moist coo. Darcy still held onto the chubby hand, bestowing kisses and gentle bites.

Lizzy smoothly moved him to her left breast, the feeding recommencing swiftly. Darcy nestled his chin on her shoulder, eyes locked on his nursing son and fingers playing with the mass of springy brown curls. Lizzy continued the conversation as if never interrupted.

“Furthermore, Georgiana, for all her grace and maturity this past year, is young. It isn’t that I believe it impossible for her to meet the one intended for her and fall in love. I just think it so unlikely as to be nearly impossible.”

“Considering you undoubtedly comprehend the inner meditations of my sister more than I do, I shall accept that assessment. However, I am curious as to how you can be so certain.”

“Georgiana has dreams, William. Aspirations. Nothing grand or scandalous, of course. But she wants to enjoy life, travel, and study her music before settling into the routines of domesticity. She talks so often about going abroad, as you know. What I do not think you understand is how vital that is to her. It is precisely because of what Wickham did to her, her extreme foolishness and residuals of guilt over disappointing you, that makes it imperative that she not be hasty.”

“But, I never—” he growled, Lizzy stopping his automatic rebuttal with fingertips pressed to his lips.

“Don’t say it, love. She knows how you feel. But allow her to hold on to her emotions and the results. Georgiana is wise enough to perceive that she is not wise! If that makes sense.”

“No,” he retorted sulkily, Lizzy laughing.

“She accepts her limitations, if you will. She is well aware that her experiences are few, that her exposure to the opposite sex is minute and skewed. She refuses to be made a fool of ever again, yet is wise enough to know that it could easily happen due to her naïveté. She sees these events—Almack’s, the opera, the ball we shall host, the upcoming summer at Stevenage—as ways to improve her social skills, grow stronger in her convictions, and learn more about life. Your sister is a scholar just like you, my dearest.” She kissed the top of his head, Darcy then lifting from his perch on her shoulder to meet her eyes. Lizzy smiled, stroking through his thick hair. “She has vowed only to marry when she can find that one man who will respect her as a near equal and love her unconditionally. You have taught her that, Fitzwilliam. In the meantime, unlike another Darcy whom I love and adore, she intends to have fun with the dancing and, yes, even the flirting! So be prepared.”

“I think it shall kill me,” he muttered seriously, and then grinned, his voice dropping into a husky timbre. “I do believe this is all too much for me. I need comfort and tender loving from my wife to cope with the stress.”

“You know we have an appointment in less than two hours and have yet to begin dressing. Comforting shall have to wait.”

“Some comforting can be accomplished in short order if necessary,” he retorted, reaching to lift her skirts and commence stroking upward over her bare thigh.

“You are incorrigible,” she replied, batting his hand away.

Darcy immediately returned to her leg, adding kisses along her collarbone. “I warned you not to forget my past distress while searching for you, Mrs. Darcy. Your poor husband, who searched for ages while you flittered about the fields of Hertfordshire like a fairy creature delighting in the torment of mortal lovers transfixed by desire, needs to be reassured the wood nymph is his forever.”

“Reading Shakespeare again, are we? Spare me the dramatic pathos. You are most assuredly a man who is not suffering from lack of affection.” She again batted his seeking hand away, playfully, affecting a severe expression. Darcy chuckled, leaning back into the sofa with hands on his lap and momentarily limiting himself to sensual kisses planted over her bared left shoulder.

Alexander finally attained his stomach’s capacity and was handed off to his father for final burping and cuddling. The ritual had not changed in the months since his birth. The big difference now was that he often stayed awake for long periods of time after eating rather than instantly falling into a deep sleep. It was wonderful for Darcy, who still strived to be available for as many meal times as he could manage. As the weeks passed and his son grew with a personality that steadily emerged, Darcy began to rethink his priorities. At Pemberley, where life moved at a slower pace, his hours spent in play and cuddling his son were considerable. However, since traveling away from the homey environs to Kent and Hertfordshire, where dozens of family members reside, and especially since arriving in London, where there were the intense demands upon his time, his availability when Alexander was awake and not being adored by a relative was abbreviated.

The only part of the equation he could control was how he spent his time and this was a gradually dawning realization over those weeks in London.

Always, even as he lamented the numerous business affairs that kept him away from Elizabeth for long hours or weeks when he traveled, he hungered for the stimulation and excitement that commerce provided. The drive to be integrally involved in his estate’s running as well as the constantly evolving aspects of industry and politics were too deeply ingrained to be denied. Additionally, he craved physical exercise that required hours at Angelo’s fencing or on his horse. He needed the male socialization with his peers at the Jockey Club or White’s.

He wisely recognized that being a husband and father did not erase those parts of his life that had ruled for some thirty years, and that fulfilling those fundamental desires kept him balanced and thus a better husband and father. But he also recognized that a portion of his aggressive motivation was a result of the loneliness and emptiness to his life prior to finding Elizabeth. With those holes filled, the urgency for action was not as keen.

Therefore, he started to consider ways to scale his diversities into something more manageable. So far it involved nothing concrete beyond talking to Mr. Daniels, his solicitor, about the best way to consolidate his holdings and streamline matters so his constant attention would not be as vital. It was too soon to see any benefit or make permanent decisions, but he was already surprised at how just broaching the idea eased the burdens weighing upon his heart. He could now hold Alexander and know that as time marched on he would be the kind of father he wanted to be to his children.

Elizabeth rose, moving about the chamber and straightening scattered belongings while Darcy played with the baby. He smiled, kissing the round cheeks and sweet lips, and nuzzling into the squat neck with blowing noises. Alexander arched and wiggled happily, released giggles and babbling vocalizations, and reached purposefully toward his father’s face and hair.

Darcy felt that it was only fair for Alexander to be blessed with his wife’s thick ringlets since he was burdened with his father’s nose, a partial jest that Lizzy persisted in countering. The infant’s face had lost all traces of his mother’s features, settling into an infantile replica of his father. Of course, the truth was that Darcy thought his child the most handsome infant alive and was immeasurably proud of the pronounced resemblance, even with the prominent nose.

“Here, sweet, your rattle.” Darcy repositioned the baby so that he was sitting on his lap and reached into the basket of toys kept by the sofa. He handed Alexander a colorfully painted dried gourd with a slim wooden handle, one of a half dozen rattles in the basket. Alexander instantly grabbed onto the toy and swung the round bulb toward his widely opened mouth. His aim was not the best, the hard object knocking into his nose and causing him to emit a high squeal. He was not to be deterred, however, the rattle again repositioned and the attempt to gnaw on the too-large toy upsetting him far more than the crash into his nose.

“You are supposed to shake it, thusly, Son,” Darcy instructed, clasping the fat rattle-wielding wrist and moving it to demonstrate. Alexander watched, fascinated, joyfully bouncing his limbs and laughing, but as soon as Darcy released his wrist the rattle was again drawn toward the yawning mouth. “Everything into the mouth with you. Crazy boy,” he said affectionately.

“He likes to eat,” Lizzy said. “I have no idea where he gets that desire from.” She winked at her spouse, Darcy merely grinning. “However, at this point in time I think it is because he is trying to cut his first teeth.”

“Truly? How do you know?”

“Feel his lower gum,” she said, picking up two envelopes off the desk and walking back toward the sofa while Darcy did as told.

“I feel hard ridges. Let papa see, Alexander. Now you can open your mouth. Oh, be still, you will get the rattle back in a moment. It looks a bit red, Elizabeth. Will it cause him pain?”

“It can, so I understand. But Mrs. Hanford has a salve that helps. George knew of a formula as well and concocted a liquid that will help if he is uncomfortable. So far he seems unperturbed other than needing to chew on everything in sight. This is also normal, so I am told. Perhaps this smaller rattle that can fit into his mouth will please him.” She retrieved a round, disc-shaped silver rattle filled with beads, one side cut out for small hands to grip. Instantly the gourd was discarded for the new, shiny toy. After a few satisfying shakes, the rattle unerringly entered his mouth for serious chewing, Alexander gibbering happily.

Darcy squeezed him tightly and delivered a kiss to the top of his head. “Better now? Cool, hard metal does the trick, yes? I presume teeth are why he has been drooling so copiously lately?” He turned to his wife with raised brow.

“I believe so. Just when Samuel breathes in relief over the absence of regurgitated milk he must contend with saliva stains.”

“He will learn to deal with it,” Darcy answered with a laugh.

“I have not had the opportunity to share the post with you, what with you distracted with traumatic visions of Georgiana eloping in the darkest hours of the night.”

“Hysterical. Is there no end to the misery inflicted upon me by the women in my life?”

“Perhaps this may help, or perhaps not.” She waved the envelopes. “One should cheer you although the other will likely educe a groan. Which first?”

“I need cheering, especially since my wife has chosen to deny my fervid need for succoring.” He replied with a grin.

“Very well then,” she answered, ignoring his remark. “We received a letter from Anne. That is, Mrs. Raul Penaflor Aleman de Vigo, as she made sure to sign it.”

“Are they not still in Bath?”

“Yes.”

“She is writing letters on her honeymoon?” Darcy shook his head in mock shock, opening the parchment paper handed to him by Lizzy as she sat down beside. “What is wrong with that man? Anne should be far too busy to pen a letter.”

“Just because you kept your new wife locked within the bedchamber for several weeks does not mean every gentleman does so. Bath is lovely, so I am told.”

“I do not recall you arguing the treatment. In fact, I seem to remember an abundance of satisfied expressions,” he said with a leer and arched brow.

Lizzy reddened slightly but laughed. “Just read the letter. You will note that it is not a long letter, so perhaps Dr. Penaflor is not so disappointing in your estimation after all.”

“Good for Anne,” he murmured, unconsciously bouncing the leg Alexander sat on as he began to read. The baby, of course, immediately forgot the rattle and opted to make a grab for the pretty fluttering paper. Darcy held it away, shushing and absently redirecting the silver chew toy back into the infant’s mouth as he continued to read. Alexander, however, chose that moment to notice his feet, dropping the rattle in a concentrated effort to secure the strange, wiggling objects and bring them to his mouth.

Darcy’s smile widened as he read. “She sounds so happy,” he said softly. “Dr. Penaflor is a good man and I never doubted his love for my cousin. But I know her well, know the tenor of her letters in the past, and this is entirely altered. It is a welcome relief to know she is content, blissful even. No one deserves it more than Anne.”

“Let us pray Lady Catherine allows them to resume their blissful happiness once returned to Rosings Park. Frankly, I cannot fathom living in that house with your aunt breathing down my neck.”

“It is a large house. And, I am not sure if you noticed, but the suite Anne ordered to be redecorated is on the opposite wing from Lady Catherine’s residence.”

Lizzy laughed. “Oh indeed! I noticed. Very shrewd of Anne.”

“I believe Dr. Penaflor had a say in the matter. He may wish to maintain civility with his mother-in-law, but he is not a fool.”

Lizzy sighed, staring dreamily for a moment. “It was a beautiful wedding, even with all the pomp. Anne was lovely in that powder blue dress. A perfect color for her skin tone.” Darcy took her hand, smiling. “I admit that I did not expect the ceremony to be charming in any way.”

“It was fairly meretricious.”

“Yes, but within the pretention it was beautiful. Once Raul and Anne were at the altar you only saw them so radiant and in love. The obscene profusion of flowers and glittering regalia faded in the presence of their joy.”

“Aunt Catherine was disappointed that Dr. Penaflor’s parents were not outwardly impressed by the flamboyance,” he said with an evil chuckle. Alexander suddenly voiced a flood of gibberish, seriously gazing into Darcy’s eyes. Darcy laughed, hugging the soft body tightly. “You agree, do you, Alexander? They were enamored by you more than any of the lavish decorations.”

He lifted the baby, holding him upright and facing toward him, and commenced an intent, articulate verbal exchange. Lizzy tended to engage in infantile speech when chatting with her son, but Darcy refused to do so. Lizzy forever teased her husband about using five syllable words and complex sentences to a newly born child, but Alexander responded to the erudite commentary with rapt attention.

“Your Aunt Mary’s wedding was understated but equally beautiful, wasn’t it? Remember the yellow wild flowers that captured your gaze? And your aunt’s purple ribbons that so fascinated you? Yes, you do remember, my intelligent boy. Perhaps you shall be musically inclined, unlike your incompetent father, since you hearkened to the organ music and singing. Which reminds me,” he said, turning to Lizzy, “Mr. Daniels said the newlyweds are expected home in two days. Did Mrs. Daniels send word?”

“She did,” Lizzy answered. “She plans to prepare the house with fresh flowers and linens, stock the cupboards, and so on, before her son and his new wife returned, and wanted to know if Jane and I wished to assist. We made a list of Mary’s favorite food items to be purchased and delivered. Mrs. Smyth was not pleased to have Darcy House servants delivering goods, even to Russell Square.”

“That is ridiculous. Russell Square is an upscale neighborhood and the house Mr. Daniels purchased is excellent. Did she argue with you?” Darcy asked, his tone abruptly dark and eyes narrowing.

“Of course not. She merely pursed her lips in that disapproving way of hers. I doubt if she concurs that a newly built area, even one near Bedford Square that is primarily inhabited by lawyers and others from the professional class, is ‘upscale.’”

“She is walking a thin path, Elizabeth. These continued disrespecting attitudes and veiled insults are annoying me most profoundly. Do you still insist she stays?”

“You know as well as I that she is an excellent housekeeper, William. I can handle it and she truly does not bother me all that much. I find her as amusing as George does, which I know is unkind, but I cannot help it.”

Darcy grunted. “Very well. But one toe over the line and she can find employment elsewhere with no recommendation from me.”

“Anyway, while I am at Mary’s house I will make sure the pianoforte in situated appropriately near the east window as you requested.” She smiled warmly at her husband, caressing over his thigh. “She will be absolutely stunned when she sees your gift.”

“Our gift,” he corrected. “It was only logical. Mary may not be the most talented pianist, but she loves to play so should have an instrument of her own. I just pray Mr. Daniels appreciates her musical ability or he may retaliate by charging me double fees! Now, curiosity is taking hold and I am in an improved humor—although I still may need a few kisses at the least to restore my harmony, so tell me what is in the second envelope.”

“A hand-penned invitation to the wedding of Miss Caroline Bingley and the Earl of Blaisdale—”

Darcy groaned.

“—for the fourteenth day of April—”

“I am sure we cannot make it. I am quite certain that is the day you and Alexander will be sitting for your portrait.”

Lizzy laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. “You know that is not true. We have our sittings scheduled for this week. And besides, a wedding takes precedence over a portrait painting.”

“Not in my opinion! You thought Anne’s wedding was garish with Lady Catherine as organizer? Can you even imagine what Caroline Bingley will concoct?” He shuddered. “It is too painful to fathom. Furthermore, how can I stand at her wedding when I so abhor that man? Even Caroline does not deserve that fate.”

“I think you are too harsh, William, as we have already discussed. She is very happy! You must believe me when I tell you it is so. Lord Blaisdale for all his faults—and I know you are not exaggerating what you know but rather minimalizing for my delicate ears—is quite devoted to her. It is strange, in many respects, but they do seem perfectly suited and loving.”

Darcy grunted but did not object. He hated to admit it, but the pairing was logical. He had not forgotten the attention directed toward Caroline at the opera, and as Lord Blaisdale’s infatuation for red-haired women was common knowledge, even to Darcy who avoided gossip, he was not surprised. Everyone knew of Blaisdale’s disastrous first marriage, most gentlemen sympathetic to his plight despite the Earl’s reprehensible behavior, so it was understandable that he would be careful with his second marriage. Caroline was beautiful and well-bred: the perfect Society wife. She, of course, craved wealth and prestige, and would have no expectations for a faithful spouse who loved her.

Darcy had to admit that whenever the two were together they appeared quite content, bordering on affectionate. He now knew how a woman looked upon a man she loved, and vice versa, and recognized the expressions cast between Caroline and Blaisdale as indicative of mutual adoration and desire at the least. Charles was convinced of their regard and thrilled for his sister. And that, of course, was what it came down to, as Lizzy pointed out in the next breath.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” she said decisively. “Caroline is your best friend’s sister and obliquely related to us, so therefore we will be attending the wedding.”

Darcy frowned but said nothing further on the subject, knowing she was correct.

“Look on the bright side, it should be amusing! Perhaps it will cheer you after suffering through Georgiana’s debut at Almack’s.”

“Or it will be two insults within the space of a week that may topple me over the edge to insanity.”

“My, you are dramatic. Are you going to be dramatic like your papa, Alexander? Hmmm?” She leaned to retrieve another dropped toy from the floor, stopping to nibble on his fat toes before giving the stuffed hound dog back. One floppy ear went directly into the baby’s mouth as she turned her thoughtful gaze upon Darcy. “I have been thinking it may be best if you do not chaperone Georgiana. Wait, hear me out!” She lifted her hand to stay his response. “You can trust Georgie not to do anything foolish. She deserves this time to have fun, and I am not so sure if she will relax with you glowering at anyone who tries to dance with her!”

“I promise I shan’t.”

“You will try not to, but it will come naturally, my love.” She smiled, kissing his cheek. “You will be uncomfortable in the atmosphere and worried for her. Emotion will show on your face to some degree no matter how you strive for nonchalance. There are others who can chaperone, sparing you the torture.”

“Who did you have in mind?” He asked suspiciously.

“I was thinking of George or…”

“My Uncle George? Are you serious?” He sputtered. “He would be too busy flirting with every female over the age of five-and-twenty to notice if a gentleman acts inappropriately with my sister!”

“Dramatic again,” she countered with a shake of her head and laugh. “Indubitably, George would be pouring on the charm, but he loves Georgie too much to ignore her. You trust him to escort her to Stevenage this summer—”

“I was coerced and taken unawares,” he inserted grumpily.

“—so how is this worse? And there is also Richard. He is her guardian, after all, and not so apt to flirt with his heart locked upon Lady Fotherby.”

Darcy remained silent, his face set in the expression Lizzy knew meant he was considering. She waited, watching as he kept his focus upon Alexander, bouncing and caressing idly as he frowned and thought her arguments through. Finally, “Very well. I concur that I am overreacting, slightly. I will accompany her this Wednesday for her first appearance. She has requested my presence to ease her nervousness. After that, I will permit Richard and my uncle to alternate if they wish.” He glanced up into her eyes, smiling faintly. “I need to learn to let go, yes?”

Lizzy smiled in return, holding his eyes with love and respect, the teasing left unspoken. “Here, let me take our drooling wiggler to Mrs. Hanford so we can begin preparing for the symphony.”

When she returned Darcy had doffed his jackets and cravat and was bent over the desk they shared in their smaller Darcy House bedchamber. He was rereading Anne’s letter when she approached and slipped her arms around his waist from behind, leaning onto his back and squeezing. He straightened and turned, drawing her gently into his embrace. She draped her arms over his shoulders, twining her fingers into his hair and pulling his head down to meet her upturned lips.

“What were you saying about needing a few kisses to restore your harmony?” She whispered against his lips.

“Hmmm. I believe I said they would suffice if we had no time for more.”

Her chuckle was stifled by a passionately seeking mouth. The kisses, or rather one continuous kiss, began tenderly but rapidly smoldered and flamed. Darcy held her firmly against his chest, one hand between her shoulder blades and the other flattened upon her derriere and pressing hard into his pelvis. Heat flared between them, readily felt through the thin layers of clothing.

Yet, despite the ever-present desire to make love to his wife and the instantaneous emergence of his physical response to her passionate touch, Darcy restrained himself. His teasing references to engaging in rushed lovemaking were not untrue or unwelcome, but he comprehended that preparing for a social event took time. He appreciated how carefully Elizabeth fussed over her appearance for these engagements and knew without a doubt that she would stun him with her beauty and perfection. Therefore, he stifled the groan lodged in his throat and pulled away from her lips to commence a languid exploration of her neck with gentle kisses. He moved his hand to the small of her back and slackened the pressure holding her body tightly against his.

“I was thinking,” Lizzy whispered huskily, biting his earlobe sharply, “I bathed this morning so do not really need to do so again, and I am sure Marguerite has my garments prepared, and you can remove my day dress as well as she, so… Oh!”

Darcy had uttered not a word. Instead he precipitously lifted her into his arms, moving quickly to the bed. Just that quickly, his solicitude disappeared!

Lizzy laughed breathlessly. “You had to carry me the ten steps to the bed? We couldn’t walk?”

“Far speedier this way. Time is of the essence, Mrs. Darcy.” He grinned, but was quite serious. He straddled her thighs, hastily discarding his shirt and tossing it onto the floor, and then bent over her supine body with a hand next to each shoulder and arms straight, his body not touching hers. He drew close, his mouth inches from hers. “What is your pleasure, my lover? Shall I kiss and lick your flesh, your writhing and pleading driving me insane with desire until I cannot resist and bury myself deeply here as you lay? Or do you wish to be in control, sending me to places unimaginable with your skillful touch?” As he spoke in a soft whisper he moved his lips along her jaw and face, warm breath stroking her sensitive skin with each word interspersed with feathery kisses.

She was already running her hands over his torso, squeezing and pressing as she arched her back in an effort to contact his body. “I have no preference, Fitzwilliam. Just hurry!”

Darcy smiled, aware she was no longer referring to their evening’s agenda and the preparatory requirements. God, how I rejoice in her response to me! The power to excite her so easily, so continually, was intoxicating. Of course, his ardor was as swiftly roused, probably even more so, the fire blazing uncontrolled through every nerve and his groin aching with need.

Suddenly it was not about the shortness of time but rather the impatience to be one as they attained pleasure unparalleled. A ragged groan burst forth as he again captured her mouth in a plundering kiss. He kept himself aloft, unerringly using one hand to unclasp the row of peach cloth-covered buttons down the front of her dress.

Lizzy clasped onto his shoulders, abruptly pushing him away as she launched upward from the bed. Darcy was momentarily surprised, but immediately relaxed, sitting back onto his heels. “Impatient, my love?” He asked with a salacious grin and raised brow.

“Together we can accomplish the task quicker.”

And they did. Seconds later she was completely nude, garments strewn wildly about the room for probably the thousandth time since their wedding night. She instantly attacked the straining buttons of his trouser fall, eliciting rumbling groans and tensing muscles as she spared several minutes in focused titillation to the newly exposed flesh.

“Oh Lizzy! Please… stop!” He tugged harshly on her pinned hair, not intending to cause her pain but desperate to halt the arousing actions that threatened to send him over the edge without her.

She rose as he bid, running her hands around his hips and over his firm buttocks, holding on as she joined with him in one strong motion. Simultaneously, they expelled loud sighing moans, assuming a familiar rhythm.

Neither spoke, although the room was far from quiet. Time may have been short, but they enjoyed the interlude and did not rush. Attuned to his wife, Darcy knew seconds before she shouted and arched her back, fingertips digging harshly into his shoulder as she shuddered. He released the residual thread of his control, utterly succumbing to the spasms rushing through his body just as she cried out his name.

The dazzling euphoria that blinded their eyes and gripped every muscle lasted a short span of time, but the warm tingling remained long after they collapsed onto the cushioned mattress. Lizzy idly caressed the muscled leg lying across her abdomen as clarity restored and she became aware of the familiar deep, rhythmic exhalations wafting over her bare shoulder. She chuckled, turning to gaze upon the face of her spouse. He was flushed, satisfaction evident in the upward tilt to his lips, but he was also falling into a doze, as he often did after they made love.

“Fitzwilliam,” she said with a laugh and nudge to his inert shoulder, “we must leave in less than an hour. No time for a nap.”

He garbled unintelligibly, moving only to cup one breast and plant a weak kiss against her upper arm.

She laughed harder, wiggling and twisting until he was rolled onto his back with her leaning on his chest. She inevitably felt invigorated and alive after they loved, especially in the middle of the day. Darcy frequently did as well, but more typically he experienced a period of satiated inertia. He recovered fairly quickly—sometimes recovering very well and desiring a repeat performance—but for that span of time, he was borderline stuporous.

Caught between a laugh and an annoyed grumble, Darcy opened his eyes slowly, peering into the radiant face of his wife. “Go on ahead, darling,” he mumbled gratingly, “I’ll just rest here for a minute or two.” And his eyes slipped closed.

“Oh no you don’t!” She exclaimed, leaning to kiss his lips and playfully slap his cheeks. “Samuel will scowl and scold if you force him to hastily dress and shave. You insisted on having your way with me so now you must pay the price.”

“Ha!” He said with increased vigor. He opened his eyes, the blue orbs shining and clear, and grinned. “I was prepared to be a gentleman until my lascivious wife threw herself upon me.”

“Well,” she countered, “You can no longer wail and bemoan your need for comfort amid the stress, now can you?”

Any retort was lost, Lizzy delivering a pert kiss before launching from the bed. She was laughing as she flounced toward her dressing room, turning at the door to blow a kiss his direction. Darcy happily watched her naked figure sway and mince, his lethargy abruptly disappearing in the surging joy that life with Elizabeth brought. With a final chuckle, he too rose from the bed, his step light and gay if a bit more swaggering than his wife’s.

Darcy chaperoned his sister for her initial appearance at Almack’s Assembly beginning that Wednesday.

Dressed in one of a dozen new gowns designed specifically for her Almack’s engagements, Georgiana was a vision of loveliness. Again the mixture of pride and dismay that pierced Darcy’s heart was difficult to bear. He knew his sister well enough to recognize the subtle signs of her anxiety and shyness, yet was amazed at her outwardly tranquil expression and lack of fidgeting. It had taken him at least two years to master the reserved aloofness that was now too easily construed as arrogance and disdain, his hands still often betraying his discomfort by twiddling in some manner. Georgiana, on the other hand, was the picture of serenity.

They arrived some half-hour before dancing commenced at eleven o’clock. “You do not wish to be the first to arrive,” Darcy explained to Georgiana, “nor should you delay and miss the opportunity to secure a respectable dance partner for the first set.” Thus with impeccable timing, they presented their subscription tickets and passed through the widely opened doors, entered the revered interior of the premiere dance assembly in all of England.

For Darcy, entering the spacious and lofty room lit to dazzling proportions by a staggering number of chandeliers and candles brought back painful memories. He glanced about at the crush of young men and women, all in attire richly adorned and fashioned to display their attributes, noting the fathers and mothers and other chaperones peering speculatively at each person of the opposite sex than their ward, and silently sent a prayer heavenward that he had been so blessed to find his Elizabeth.

Georgiana, on the other hand, noted the plush sofas lining the four walls, the profusion of finely dressed handsome men and beautiful women already engaged in gay conversation, the enormous roped-off area for dancing, the soberly uniformed musicians tuning their instruments, and the raised dais upon which the seven Lady Patronesses held court, and her heart soared.

They wove through the tight press nearest the door, but managed less than ten feet into the room before Miss Darcy was hailed by a group of friends. She squeezed Darcy’s arm, gazing upward for permission, and at his stiff nod she was gone.

The night passed in a blur for Georgiana. She danced almost every dance and rarely sat down. The introductions to dozens upon dozens of highly eligible bachelors were impossible to remember, and she honestly did not care. She wanted to have fun, leaving thoughts of matrimony or falling in love for another day.

Of course, Darcy did not fully believe this, despite his wife’s assurances, and he certainly did not trust the slathering hounds persistently dogging his baby sister’s steps with eyes far too bold for his comfort. Five in the morning could not arrive swiftly enough for him!

Georgiana hardly noticed her brother at first, almost forgetting he was there. However, after hours of his stern mien bordering on a scowl with piercing eyes that marked every move she made, his towering attendance hinging on menace in close proximity to wherever she moved within the enormous hall, and his curt retorts to any comments directed his way by anyone of the male sex, she began to seriously yearn for her uncle or cousin! Thankfully, they were all too happy to accompany her for the remaining Wednesdays until they departed in June.

The Season passed without a single offer of marriage made, although that was clearly not due to a lack of interested suitors. Georgiana embraced the lively diversions of dancing and conversation with far greater ease than anyone in her family would have expected, but her characteristic shyness and reticence nonetheless set her apart from the majority of the flirty, bold females, and kept the randy, rambunctious bachelors from pursuing too vigorously. Of course the image of her frightening brother and his surly reputation may have contributed! Whatever the case, she remained unbetrothed and had a marvelous time. Her step along the pathway of affability and confidence furthered considerably, but none of the gentlemen touched her heart specifically.

Darcy’s relief was monumental. When the final Almack’s Assembly was held and his sister arrived home safely, he physically sensed a cord of coiled tension loosen in his body. Lizzy stood nearby as Georgiana raved on innocently with one eye on her sister and the other on her husband, the tender but humorous smile conveying unmistakably that she knew precisely what he was feeling.