Loving Mr. Darcy: Journeys Beyond Pemberley

Chapter Ten A Night at the Opera

Darcy, regally dressed in head-to-toe black except for a pristine white shirt and cravat, stood before the empty fireplace in the parlor with an expansive grin on his face. His sister, with assistance from Kitty, was relating an adventure with the ducks that live on the little pond in Hyde Park. He had never noted it in the past, but his shy baby sister apparently had developed a flair for the dramatic as well. He rather doubted chasing ducks could be as riveting as she was presenting it, but between her and Kitty's gales of laughter and charade-like pantomiming, he was tremendously amused and Richard was actually wiping tears from his eyes. Of course, Richard was easily entertained.

The girls delighted them with their silly exploits while they awaited the appearance of Mary and Elizabeth. Tonight was the opera, and proper preparation was of the utmost importance. The men understood this, and as Marguerite had happily volunteered to style the hair of all four women, well, it could take some time. Georgiana, in a new gown for the occasion and hair pinned elaborately with a diamond clip, was beautiful. With a pang to his heart, Darcy recognized the woman lurking under the girlish exterior of his beloved sister.

Miss Kitty was equally as lovely. Lizzy had purchased several new gowns for both her sisters from her pin money, a fact which had irritated Darcy because he would have willingly and happily provided for them, but Lizzy insisted. They actually had a minor argument over her choice, but she would not budge.

“William, I did not marry you to furnish necessities for my family,” she had declared firmly.

“I understand this, Elizabeth. However, when I married you, I voluntarily accepted your family as my own, as did you with Georgiana and the rest.”

“Accepted, yes, but not charged to support. You allot me far more money than I can possibly spend on myself, so I desire to do this for my sisters. It is not your place.”

“Not my place! This offends me, Elizabeth. They are my sisters now, and therefore, it is my place.”

“Technicalities, Mr. Darcy. Are you next going to offer financial support to my father? Buy his wardrobe? Furthermore, imagine the Pandora's box you would be opening if my mother found out you were lavishing the girls, and lavish you would, William. Suddenly the ‘needs’ would escalate and Pemberley would be bankrupt in a month!”

Darcy certainly could not argue regarding her mother and was aghast at the very idea of insulting his proud, distinguished father-in-law. Nonetheless, he felt slighted somehow and it irritated him. “I will not deny a couple of your points, my dear; however, I still maintain a dress or two is hardly beyond my responsibility.”

“Consider it this way, beloved. You are supporting them by guesting them in your house…”

“Our house,” he interrupted with a glare.

“Our house,” she resumed with a smile, “and the money to purchase clothing and trinkets for them is coming from your coffers, simply via me. So, everyone is happy!”

He hated it when she utilized perfect logic! It continued to annoy him in a vague way he could not quite identify, but any further attempts to change her mind were met with increased stubbornness and an argument, so he finally relented. The gown that Kitty had chosen was remarkable and her hair equally as stunning, accented with one of Elizabeth's ruby hair combs. Kitty was an adorable young girl to Darcy's eyes. She did not look like his wife, but they had the same coloring and hair. She possessed the identical effervescent quality that Elizabeth did and was very witty. Without Lydia to negatively influence her and with the positive, steady persuasion of Mary and now Georgiana, Kitty had mellowed. Her giddiness was slowly replaced with a pleasant charm and grace. Alas, she still did not boast the intelligence of her three older sisters.

Kitty and Georgiana completed their tale, Richard yet chuckling, when Elizabeth and Mary simultaneously entered the room. Elizabeth, in her ultimate Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy regalia, was breathtaking. Normally Darcy's eyes would have been captured as the whole world faded from view. Tonight, however, it was Mary demanding immediate awe. It was not in any way that she was more stunning than Elizabeth; it was the shock of Mary adorned in anything other than a somber gray or black! Her gown was fashionable, with a daring scooped neckline and bared shoulders, a pale pink and sky blue satin with embossed roses over the lower third of the skirt. Her thick, lustrous black hair was pulled up with a half bonnet detailed with matching roses and feathers adorning. Her lips were painted a rosy pink and a faint dash of rouge highlighted her cheekbones. Darcy had never realized how beautiful she was, and Richard's eyes were bulging.

Elizabeth was beaming with pride and Mary was blushing under the intense scrutiny. “Oh, Mary!” Georgiana gushed, dashing to her friend and clasping her hands. “You are stunning! Did I not tell you these colors would be wonderful?”

Elizabeth edged over to her husband, allowing the girls to enthuse. Darcy turned to his radiant wife, freshly rendered awestruck at her sultry elegance. Her gown of scarlet satin was equally as daring, the tops of shapely breasts visible and creamy shoulders bare. The gauzy satin pleated under the bosom with a glittery white ribbon, fell smooth and snug over her abdomen to her toes. The satin gathered into a loose bustle over her buttocks with the same white ribbon sash forming an elaborate bow before diverging into a dozen tails plummeting to the floor. There were no sleeves to speak of: the shimmering ribbon braided with a strip of the scarlet fabric formed a narrow band which edged the top of the bodice and V-shaped back, swept over her upper arms in three individual laces and crossed over the entire back in an intricate pattern. She wore a scarlet and white turban adorned with tiny crystals and a plumed white feather, hair braided, curled, and cascading over her left shoulder. At her throat rested a strand of square cut diamonds with an exquisite round ruby pendant, and rubies graced her ears.

Privately, Darcy never thought his wife more beautiful than when her hair was tumbling down her back and shoulders, a transparent nightgown or chemise clinging to her womanly form, and delicate face flushed with desire. At times, he yearned to see her again in the simple country dresses she had worn at Hertfordshire when her natural luminance and svelte shape had been the focus. Luckily for him, the bulk of her everyday dresses, although of finer quality and style, remained humble and unadorned. Lizzy, like her husband, preferred minimalism and comfort.

Despite the predilection for economy of dress, Lizzy had rapidly embraced the necessity and joy of sophisticated splendor and elegance. She may retain some naïveté regarding the nuances of society, but she did understand the importance of this evening as her first official appearance as Mrs. Darcy in London. Therefore, her attire from top to bottom had been agonized over. The end result was stupendous. As was always the case when Darcy encountered his wife after an absence, no matter how brief, the need to touch and kiss her overwhelmed him. She could have been wearing a canvas sack and he would have experienced the same desire. Add in the resplendency of a gown and jewels, and it was unbearable.

Placing a hand lightly on her elbow, he steered unobtrusively out the side door into the billiard room. Closing the door firmly and leaning against it, he clasped her waist and drew her toward him for a deep kiss. Eventually pulling away, he feathered fingertips over her shoulders and neck. “I beg your forgiveness, my heart. It was early morning since last I avowed my ardent, consuming love for you.”

“True, beloved; however, you declared your love so spectacularly that I am yet tingling from the expression. There is no dereliction to pardon unless you fail to comment on my gown. The intention, after all, was to dazzle you. Either I have erred in my choice or you shall be in serious trouble.”

Darcy laughed lowly. “Your choice is perfection, my love. You are perfection.” He trailed one finger along her bodice. “I will confess to some hesitation and jealousy over any other observing so much of your delightful flesh.”

“Yet I belong to you, dearest, and only you shall ever view all of me.” She smiled. “Truthfully, William, am I presentable? I wish you to be proud of me.”

He cupped her face and kissed tenderly then smiled archly. “You place a dilemma before me, love. If I profess my irrepressible pride in all aspects, internal and external, which attribute to your flawlessness and that you are mine, then you may again accuse me of being arrogant and haughty. However, if I do not extol your exquisite beauty, impeccable character, and sparkling personality, I would be false and—what was it—be in ‘serious trouble’?”

She laughed. Pressing into his body with hands traveling over his derriere, she responded with an absorbing kiss. They were interrupted moments later by a rap to the door behind Darcy's head.

“Pardon the intrusion, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, but we should be leaving now. Unless, of course, you have decided to forego the opera in lieu of alternate pastimes?”

“We shall be there shortly, Richard. Go away.”

“As you command, cousin.” Lizzy was suppressing her giggles. Darcy tarried for another kiss and then offered an arm to his wife.

The society rumor mill had run full force during the immediate months after the engagement of Mr. Darcy to the penniless country girl of low rank. With some sadness and chagrin, but mostly joy at the fodder for juicy gossip, the topic of Darcy's choice was premier. It had ebbed somewhat after a month or so, only to flame anew at the announcement of the intimate nuptials in Hertfordshire, of all places. Then, with the populace dispersal for the winter and early spring, the chatter had died completely. As the influx of the elite increased in May, the mystery of the Darcy marriage and long absence from Town had resurged as a discussion point. The curiosity of it all was too succulent a morsel to ignore completely; however, after six months, there were dozens of torrid affairs far more interesting to chatter about. Even the crushed unmarried debutantes of the ton had turned their gazes elsewhere. Only in the past week, as the awareness of the Darcys’ residence had gradually filtered through the parlors of Mayfair and St. James's Place, did the gossip freshly rage. The question of why the seclusion at Pemberley for six long months and now the week-plus relative isolation was speculated with relish. Those fortunate souls who had been introduced to the new Mrs. Darcy when fortuitously encountering her while shopping were the celebrities of the inner circle.

Therefore, the fervor of interest was high. No one knew when or if she would formally make her entrance, but every last person prayed they would be present when she did. Thus it was with the crowd currently amassing in the grand foyer and reception hall of the Royal Theatre. Would this be the night? Of course, as with all society events, there were always a plenteous number of glittering personages of eminent importance to ogle and fawn over. The appearance of the Prime Minister, the famous boxer John Jackson, and the Russian Ambassador Count von Lieven with his wife, the famous Countess von Lieven, had already fanned the fires of excitement.

When the Darcy carriage finally crept to the front of the line, word had already begun to spread. Naturally, curiosity was high, but the talent involved with sating one's inquisitiveness while not observably appearing to do so was an art form well honed by the elite. Lizzy, ignorant of this skill, was hence spared the blatant stares which she had been expecting, enabling her to relax as she mounted the steps on her proud husband's arm.

A dashing and softly smiling Darcy escorted both his wife and sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam, resplendent in dress uniform, gladly lent his arms to Mary and Kitty. Lord and Lady Matlock stood outside the massive doors under the Corinthian columned portico in conversation with an elegant couple. The Earl noted their approach first, turning with a smile.

“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, and Miss Darcy.” Lord Matlock bowed, greeting them all with proper hand kisses, Kitty and Mary blushing furiously.

Lady Matlock kissed Lizzy's cheek. “Elizabeth, dear, you are radiant. Please allow me to introduce you to Ambassador von Lieven and his wife Countess von Lieven. Your Grace, Countess, this is my niece, Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

Lizzy was nearly rendered speechless. She had heard of the Countess, a patroness of Almacks and hostess of one of the most elite salons in London, not to mention notorious as the mistress of Metternich. She was stunningly beautiful, exotic with almond-shaped eyes and raven hair. Her husband was as impressive as she, tall as Darcy but heavily bodied and sporting a full red beard. They greeted Lizzy warmly in their accented voices. Lizzy, thankfully, managed to speak calmly, natural charm and wit rushing to the forefront.

“Mrs. Darcy, the fortunate woman to capture the heart of the elusive Mr. Darcy of Pemberley!” Madame von Lieven proclaimed in a husky intonation, flicking her folded fan on Darcy's arm. “We were worried for you, Mr. Darcy. A man such as you should not remain a bachelor for so many years.” Darcy reddened as she tittered musically. “What a delight your surprise marriage has been! I cannot thank you enough, Mr. Darcy, for providing a wealth of titillating gossip for my salon.”

Darcy, blushing, bowed regally. “Happy to have been of service to you, Countess.”

“No no! The joy is entirely mine, kind sir. I must repay. Mrs. Darcy, you and Mr. Darcy absolutely must grace us with your presence. I shall send an invitation round and refuse to accept your decline!” She giggled again, fluttering her fan before her face as she turned to her silent husband. “There I go yet again, dear, as you incessantly accuse. Selfishly regarding only myself!” She turned back to Lizzy, who frankly did not know what to think of the effervescent and flirty Countess. “You see, Mrs. Darcy, by guesting you at my salon I shall be all the rage! As will you be, too, of course. To receive an invite to my salon is a prized acclamation.”

“I shall breathlessly await your kind offer, Countess. We will be delighted to accept.”

Conversation flowed along with numerous introductions. Lizzy met so many titled gentry and other members of society that the names eventually melded into a jumble. They slowly weaved their way inside, the mass of people loitering in the massive lobby and staircases talking, laughing, and flirting. Theatre events were valued for the social contact far above the production itself. To be seen in one's finery and conversing with a notable was the prime motive for attendance. The news that Mrs. Darcy had been invited to Countess von Lieven's salon spread like wildfire. Couple this endorsement with her charisma and attractiveness, association with the Matlocks, presentation, favorable reception by a plethora of prominent personages, and Darcy's smiling pose, and her entry into the ton was secured.

The Bingleys and Gardiners were eventually located, chatting amiably with the Lathrops on the second tier balcony. Lizzy delightfully embraced her aunt and uncle. They had been overjoyed and awed by Darcy's invitation to join him in the Darcy box. Lizzy had never seen her aunt fuss so over the proper gown and accoutrements! While the women effused over dresses and jewels, Lord Matlock pulled Darcy to the side.

“Fitzwilliam, I wanted to warn you. Madeline received a letter from your Aunt Catherine today. It was primarily full of her usual nonsense until the last paragraph. She rather nonchalantly mentioned that she had heard of Elizabeth's pregnancy. I was suspect, as you barely announced your blessed news to us, and the manner of her casual remark seemed, well, too casual, if you take my meaning. You know your aunt! Have you written to her?”

Darcy was frowning. “No, Uncle, I have not. The truth is I had given it minimal consideration as yet.”

“How do you suppose she discovered it?”

“That I believe I can ascertain. Elizabeth is dear friends with the wife of the vicar at Hunsford if you recall. She wrote to her while we were in Hertfordshire, as we had recently been apprised of Mrs. Collins's expectant state. I did not ask, however, I would imagine Elizabeth told her our joy as well. That husband of hers is a doltish sycophant who would run to Lady Catherine with the news.” He smiled dourly. “We have had evidence of his interference in the past.”

“Whatever the case, I thought I should give you the heads up.”

“Thank you, uncle.”

They turned back toward the ladies, Bingley and Lathrop joining them as Lord Matlock spoke, “By the way, William, are you going to accept Duke Grafton's offer?”

“I would be a fool to decline it. The honor in him asking to mix bloodlines is astounding.”

Lathrop whistled. “Well done, Darcy! Grafton's thoroughbreds are some of the best in the country. How did you finagle that? Whip him at faro?” They all laughed.

“Hardly. You know me better than that. My luck at cards is nearly as atrocious as at dice.”

Richard coughed, pretending to murmur under his breath, “Or darts.”

Darcy ignored him. “I will assuredly accept his offer. He has asked me to ride to his estate next week. I have yet to tell Elizabeth, though, so let us speak of it no further. Perhaps, Stephen, you could accompany me? You too, Bingley, then the ladies could freely entertain each other as a soothing balm to their aching hearts in our absence.”

“And you will not feel so guilty for deserting your bride, eh cousin?” Richard was grinning.

Darcy scowled at his cousin. “Just wait, Richard. Your day will come and I shall laugh all the way to the altar.”

The bell rang, signifying the imminent start of the program. The Darcy box was spacious, comfortably able to seat nine. Elizabeth and Darcy were joined by the three girls, the Gardiners, and the Bingleys. Richard and the Lathrops would be sitting with Lord and Lady Matlock in their box located next to Darcy's. As Elizabeth was entering to sit, a tap on the shoulder caused her to turn, spying the smiling face of Harriet Vernor.

“Harriet, dear! I was beginning to worry. You are coming to Darcy House after?”

“Naturally, dear Elizabeth, we will be there. I shall speak with you at intermission, yet I had to say how amazing your gown.” She leaned in to whisper, “Everyone is talking about you, sweetie. You have dazzled the leeches of the upper crust!”

“Harriet! Shame on you!” Lizzy chided with a laugh and slap of her fan, but Harriet merely winked and joined her husband with an airy wave adieu.

Darcy was waiting for his wife behind the curtain, lightly clasping her elbow to lead her to their seats in front. “The Vernors arrived, I see.” He brushed her gloved fingers with his lips as she sat, settling himself beside her. He handed over her new opera glasses as Lizzy whispered what Harriet had said. He smiled, stifling a laugh behind a cough, replying, “How could they not be dazzled, beloved? You are the most beautiful woman here.”

Lizzy graced him with a brilliant smile. “You, Mr. Darcy, are prejudiced or blind. Yet I shall accept the compliment.”

As the lights dimmed, he bent for a quick kiss to her temple. “Thank you for wearing jasmine tonight, my heart. You are ravishing and delectable. How I shall attend to the performance is beyond my comprehension.”

In truth, he attended raptly, as did Lizzy. Others may haunt the theatre for the socialization, but the Darcys honestly delighted in the spectacle. The seats were superb, with visualization so perfect that Lizzy had little need for her glasses. Darcy held her gloved hand throughout, absently raising her fingers to his lips for soft caresses, inclining for occasional whispered commentary. Once, Lizzy twisted to meet his eyes for a comment of her own and without thought they briefly kissed, eyes locking for merely a second before returning to the stage. All this was noted by the various curious onlookers, some of who were shocked and abhorred, others who found it sweet and romantic.

The performance was spectacular. Intermissions were abounding with further introductions and invitations. The gentlemen brought refreshments for the ladies, Darcy especially concerned as it was quite balmy inside and he fretted over any residual faintness. Lizzy, however, felt wonderful. It was warm and her new fan was utilized, but no dizziness ensued.

They retired to Darcy House for a light dinner with a group of their closest friends. Lizzy and Darcy played the hosts with tremendous success, the entertainment consisting solely of conversation, but none were left wanting.

It was late when they bid farewell to the last of their guests and ushered the girls to their rooms. Lizzy sat at her dressing table idly brushing her hair while dreamily musing over the evening's events and fought off sleep. Yawning hugely with eyes closed, she was unaware of her spouse's presence until he retrieved the brush from her slack hand.

He commenced brushing after tenderly kissing the top of her head. “Tired, beloved?”

“Exhausted actually. It was a busy day, but so wonderful. Everything was perfect: the music and singing, the company, the greetings.” She opened her eyes to gaze at Darcy's reflection. “I believe I was remiss in telling you how handsome you were, beloved. I saw no one to compare.” He merely smiled and continued to brush. Lizzy sighed happily and relaxed into his body. “Assist me to bed, Fitzwilliam, I doubt I could manage it alone.”

He bent over, pausing for a kiss to her shoulder, and gathered her into his arms, carrying her to their bed. Removing the gauzy robe, he nestled her bare body close to his side and in his embrace, one hand warmly blanketing her belly as they drifted into a satisfied slumber.

The morning following, dawn having peaked hours earlier, Lizzy lazily opened one eye to note a smiling Darcy propped on an elbow, staring at her while tracing one fingertip lightly over her facial features. “Must you do that, Mr. Darcy?” she mumbled sleepily.

“I must, yes, I must. It is a compulsion born from an urgent hunger for you, my wife.” He commenced the placement of gentle kisses along her neck, working his way slowly down to below her navel. Lizzy stretched and sighed, playing with his thick hair. His husky voice drifted to her from under the blanket, “Good morning, child mine. Grow quickly and strong so your parents can feel you.” He kissed and caressed her belly, murmuring further nonsense while Lizzy roused fully. “Elizabeth, am I simply hopefully wishing, or are you slightly thicker here?” He ran a hand over her hipbones, which did not feel as acute as usual.

“I have noticed the same,” she replied with a smile, withdrawing the blanket so she could see his face. “A couple of my favorite chemises are snug now. I frequently discern little flutters inside, like feathers tickling, but I do not know if it is the baby moving or, well, other sensations,” she finished with a blush.

Darcy was grinning with joy. “Soon, beloved, we shall feel her regularly.” He kissed her pubis again, laying his cheek gently onto her. “She will be tough and kick me firmly, Elizabeth, I know she will. Or he. Sturdy legs to grip a horse.”

Lizzy laughed. “Naturally! A true Darcy—on a horse before he walks, gifted with a pony ere he is finished with swaddling cloths, and leaping fences prior to weaning from my breast.”

“Foolish girl. I shall wait until he, or she, is weaned at least.” With a last kiss, he worked his way back up to her lips. He lay onto the pillow, fingering her hair. “Dearest, I received a tremendous offer yesterday. I apologize for not having the opportunity to share with you until now. Do you recall my mentioning the fabulous racehorses bred by the Duke of Grafton?” She nodded. “I met with him yesterday, per his request, if you can imagine. He has heard of the fine Pemberley thoroughbreds and their reputation for endurance as well as speed. Grafton's horses are bred for speed, and having won the Derby and the Oaks numerous times they have proven their capabilities. Now, though, he wishes to add greater stamina to the mix for the longer races at Newmarket and St. Leger. Therefore, he has come to me and wishes to set up a breeding program.”

“Oh, William! This is wonderful!”

“Yes, it is a dream becoming reality for me. A few of our horses have prevailed at the racetrack, but as you know, our main contracts are with the military. The money from the crown is considerable, but nothing compared to what we could earn from racing stock. I have yet to work out the details with Duke Grafton, but the profit from the breeding alone would be substantial, not to mention the reputation gained in the process.”

“Dearest, you should be bouncing with joy, so why do I sense hesitancy in you? Is there a negative to the arrangement?”

“Not to the project itself, although I am certain Mr. Daniels will diligently search for any legal mishaps.” He smiled and chuckled, caressing the back of his fingers over her cheeks. “The only negative is that the Duke wishes for me to visit his estate in Suffolk to personally inspect his stock, then he would like to visit Pemberley for the same reason. He is adamant and enthusiastic at the prospect, and I do not wish to hedge and possibly have him turn elsewhere. He wants to leave in two days,” he finished softly, gazing intently into her eyes.

“Oh! I see. How long would you be away?”

“Five days, perhaps seven. Elizabeth, I do not desire to leave you! A week away is more than I can fathom, yet this is an opportunity of a lifetime, and it would benefit us now and our future…”

“William, stop,” Lizzy pressed her fingers against his lips. “You would be an utter fool to not do this. The very thought of being away from you for a week is unbearable, but you have to go.”

“I would bring you with me, love, if I could, but he wants to travel on horseback. This will actually be quicker in the end. Elizabeth, it is unconscionable for me to desert you here in London at this time, so soon after our arrival, and with the baby. I might miss something important, or you may need me.” He exhaled angrily and flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling as he muttered, “I cannot do it.”

Lizzy bit her lip, furiously thinking. A week without him was too horrible to imagine, so she pushed it away, refusing to face it. She drew close, kissing his chest then up to his neck and ear. With fingers to his jaw, she turned his face toward hers and met troubled eyes with a dazzling smile. “You will not be deserting me, beloved, as I will be ordering you to leave. My girls will keep me company and watch over me. Our baby is safe and secure. What you are attempting with Duke Grafton is for our children's benefit.” She sighed, lip beginning to tremble. “I will be anxiously awaiting your return with pent up desire and need.” She kissed him lightly, running her tongue over his lower lip, speaking huskily, “Imagine how amazing it will be when you come home, my lover.”

He groaned and embraced her tightly while rolling to the side, “Elizabeth, I cannot…”

“You can and you will. Now make love to me, Fitzwilliam, before I cry.” She grasped him with an iron grip and pulled his body onto hers, claiming his mouth for an ardent kiss.

With a moan, he ran one hand down her side, over her bottom, and clutched her thigh as he pulled the leg over his hip. “I love you, Elizabeth, so tremendously. Are you certain? I could not bear to leave you if I thought you had any misgivings or resentment.”

She smiled and stroked his face. “I am certain I shall pine for you every moment of the day and night, but I am also certain you must do this. You would regret it profoundly if you let this opportunity slip through your fingers. I prefer to live without your presence for a week than to live with your unhappiness forever.” Traveling a hand to his groin for a gentle fondle, she sucked his lower lip between hers, nibbled lightly, and then whispered, “You reside in my soul, beloved. A week apart will not alter this fact.”

Darcy sighed, kissing with abandon as he caressed over her body. He knew she was presenting a brave face, and he loved her for it. He also knew she was correct. He had to pursue this business deal, his duty to Pemberley and the future far too important. Nonetheless, it broke his heart. Already, still two days away and with her currently in his arms loving him, it felt as if his soul was splintering. Logic and duty seemed inconsequential against the thought of separation.

Within minutes they were crazily aroused, Darcy covering his delicate wife with his large frame as they joined. Of all the various ways they made love, each astounding and stimulating in unique ways, there was something expressly intimate in the feel of his body fully over her. Darcy was a tall man with sturdy muscles and broad shoulders. Logically, he should crush her small frame under his bulk, yet using either knees or arms to shift some of his weight off her, he still managed to proficiently excite with masterful hands and a deft mouth. His flesh felt phenomenal pressing onto her. So amazingly powerful, warm, masculine, and protective as her hands were thus freed to massage and tantalize his rough yet soft skin, through his hair, over his chest and abdomen, and on to any other part reachable.

Always facing the other, touching at hundreds of points, sweaty flesh writhing hotly together, Darcy was dominant yet gently responded to her demands, unceasingly cognizant of her pleasure. This was the preferred way they loved each other. Watching the passion rising on their faces, breath mingling as they panted, murmured endearments, vocalized sounds of gratification and lust, hearts beating in time, and then finally climaxing in unity with bodies melded.

The following two days passed quickly—too quickly. They spoke of their separation no further, other than in the abstract. In the end, Darcy decided that Gerald Vernor, as the one friend who knew the most about horses, would accompany him. His solicitor, Mr. Andrew Daniels, would also go for the legal necessities. Col. Fitzwilliam was charged with keeping a close eye on the women and roughly knew Darcy's itinerary in case of an emergency. Darcy assisted Lizzy with planning activities while he was gone, not wishing her to avoid any dinners or theatre events. Between Richard, Lord Matlock, Mr. Gardiner, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Lathrop, Lizzy would not be without proper chaperones. The ladies all knew how Darcy fretted, so they planned something for each day, even if it was simply luncheon and tea. Most of these careful plans were for Darcy's benefit rather than Lizzy, but she agreed knowing it eased his mind.

In the meantime, they spent nearly every waking moment together. Darcy cancelled all business affairs, other than the ones to do with the trip, and Lizzy postponed her scheduled shopping and afternoon appointments. The logical, sensible portion of their personalities knew they were being ridiculous. It had been inevitable that a separation of extended time would occur, and they recognized that it would likely happen numerous times over the long course of their marriage. In some far corner of their minds, they were embarrassed by and laughed at their panic and dismay, yet they could not halt the emotions. For Darcy it dredged up the terror of her accident, when she was mentally parted from him and he feared her death. Lizzy, strangely, found she relived the moment he had walked out the door of the inn in Lambton and she thought she had lost him forever.

The days were filled with the tension of expectation to the point that both of them actually found themselves privately longing for the day to arrive so that time could then hurry to when he returned. They made love numerous times over the two days with an unreasoning fear of detachment.

On the very morning he had broken the news to her, they made love again in her dressing room after breakfast. Lizzy kissed him and departed to her dressing room, not noting the sensual expression crossing his countenance. Several minutes later, while Marguerite was thankfully in the closet retrieving a gown, Darcy suddenly appeared in the doorway. This was not odd, but the clear suggestive gaze roaming over her body as she stood before her washbasin in only her chemise left no doubt it was not a casual visit. He dismissed Lizzy's maid curtly without turning about, this being unusual, but Marguerite did not flinch. He then rapidly crossed to where she stood, robe falling to the floor and revealing him to be fully aroused—a sight Marguerite would not have been able to ignore if she had taken even three more steps into the room.

“Elizabeth, I need you, please,” he said, as his mouth descended in a crushing kiss and he pinned her against the wall, fingers groping. It was sudden and unexpected, but her husband never failed to inflame her.

That evening while hosting a dinner party, their eyes linked from across the room and desire was immediately evident. Darcy nodded imperceptibly and slipped away, Lizzy following a few minutes later. Whether anyone noticed they never knew, nor did they care. Darcy stood in the darkened hall and without a word took her hand, leading her to the library and locking the door. They fell onto the comfortable sofa and wasted no time in their frenetic yearning, moans suppressed. The room was pitch black, but light was unnecessary.

Nighttime and morning liaisons were languid and relaxing, offering a sustaining and consuming rapture, more emotional and spiritual in nature than the chiefly physical trysts afforded. The afternoon of the day before his departure found them in the study, Darcy writing at his desk while Lizzy read on the already several times utilized sofa. Sensing his penetrating gaze, she glanced up into darkened eyes.

“Staring, Mr. Darcy?”

“Admiring, Mrs. Darcy,” he answered in a gravelly whisper. “Adoring, loving, wanting, craving.” He rose, gliding from the desk toward her. “Worshipping, desiring, cherishing.” He knelt and began lifting her skirts, never breaking away from her eyes. “Yearning, esteeming, caressing, tasting…” His mumbled huskiness was lost amid folded yards of fabric and tender flesh.

Lizzy groaned, “William, I so love you!”

Their last night together was spent quietly at home with Georgiana, Mary, and Kitty. Occasional playing of the pianoforte was interspersed with conversation and laughter. Despite the now looming departure, Darcy and Lizzy were in joyful moods, entertained by the silliness of the girls. Darcy contentedly sat beside his wife, who was embroidering a design of bunnies and bluebirds on what was to be a small pillow for the baby's crib. As they finally moved toward their perspective bedchambers, Darcy was stunned to have Mary approach him, Georgiana and Kitty solemnly behind her.

“Mr. Darcy,” she said with a small curtsey, “you must not fret over Lizzy. We shall care for her and keep her amused. I know she will miss you, as will we all, but no harm will befall her. We promise.”

Darcy was nearly unable to find his voice. Mary had probably spoken ten sentences to him in the past three weeks, and this was by far the longest! “Thank you, Miss Mary. I appreciate your vow and understand it comes from your heart. Thus, you have eased mine.” With a stately bow, he kissed her hand, bringing a deep flush to her cheeks, and then repeated the words and action with his sister and Kitty.

Lizzy barely slept, Darcy endlessly embracing and caressing and kissing all throughout the night. They made love again, Lizzy exhausted and sore as she had not been since their honeymoon. Still, it was a monumental effort to not burst into tears when he left. He graced her with a dazzling smile as he waved a final farewell, pretending with all the theatrics at his disposal to not be aching and ripping apart inside. Lizzy retired immediately to their chamber, stretching on the empty bed with his scent-filled pillow clutched to her chest and crying until lack of sleep and heartache overtook her.

She woke refreshed and determined to shake off any depression. Amelia and Jane arrived in the early afternoon, and along with the girls, they retired to the parlor to sew and visit. Harriet was expected to arrive any minute to augment the fun. Lizzy surprisingly discovered her sadness leaving in the delight of lively communion. Her humor was high, health whole, and the tiny flutters far inside a constant reminder of her bliss.

A knock at the door lead to the entry of the footman, Hobbes. He bowed, Lizzy fully anticipating him to announce Mrs. Vernor, when he said, “Madame, there is a visitor asking to see Mr. Darcy…”

Before he could finish, the door flew open with a bang into the wall and, with a flurry of swirling skirts, in breezed Lady Catherine de Bourgh.