Loving Mr. Darcy: Journeys Beyond Pemberley

Chapter Twelve Reunion

The foyer was empty. The soft tinkling of piano keys and laughter sailed on the air from the music room. Wincing slightly, Darcy carefully removed his overcoat and the moist, grimy cravat as a footman rounded the corner, halting in surprise at the sight of his Master.

“Mr. Darcy! We did not expect you until this afternoon.”

“No apology is necessary, Peters. Is Mrs. Darcy in our chambers?”

“No sir. She is yet in the garden, I believe.”

“Thank you.” Thrusting his garments into the servant's hands, he strode rapidly down the hall to the rear of the house with heart pounding and grin spreading. Elizabeth stood amongst a plot of lilacs taller than she was, snipping fragrant blooms with her new shears to join the array of colorful flowers already lying in her new basket. Darcy paused on the threshold, the ache to envelop his wife momentarily offset by the vision she unwittingly presented. She wore a thin, simple-muslin morning gown of pale lavender, hair unbound with only the sides unevenly secured with a loose tie in back. The sun shone brightly, highlighting the multiple hues in her hair and accenting the flush on her cheeks. She was smiling slightly as she smelled the lilacs, and he thought he detected a faint humming.

Smiling even broader, Darcy stepped out of the shadows onto the stone patio. The movement caught Lizzy's attention and she turned. Her eyes widened, the foremost thought being that she was hallucinating. It had required colossal effort on her part and loving persuasion from her sisters to revive her spirits last night. The restful sleep had aided her tremendously as well. Finally, she had attained a state of calm acceptance, willing herself to be strong as she grudgingly bowed to the inevitable wait of one more day. She had no idea where they would stop for the night, since it all apparently depended on the Duke's condition, but had not expected Darcy's homecoming until after luncheon at the soonest.

It was the sound of boot heels striking the stone that convinced her of his reality. With a strangled cry, she tossed the basket and shears onto the turf and raced into his outstretched arms. Darcy felt the impact of her slender frame with a combined grimace and shock through his left side but primarily with a rush of astounding joy and completion. He clutched her tightly, spinning about with a merry laugh while she rained kisses all over his face.

“William! I cannot believe you are here! Oh, how I missed you! How I love you!” Her words tumbled over each other, interspersed with kisses, her fingers moving through his hair and over his exposed neck.

Darcy laughed and was eventually required to grasp her face in his hands to halt her jubilant enthusiasm. “Elizabeth,” he whispered with a gentle smile, slowly brushing over her mouth as he caressed her cheeks with his thumbs. Their eyes met, love evident and mingled with profound longing. “I love you,” he softly uttered, then his mouth descended, interrupting any reply with a firm, encompassing kiss that deepened rapidly. Bodies pressed harshly together, they kissed as if starved and the only nourishment available was in the breath and taste of the other. Darcy's lingering pain was erased in the rapture of embracing and kissing his delicious wife.

Neither of them had any cognizant awareness of where they were. Their mental states were so enamored with desire and bliss that it was entirely probable they were minutes away from falling to the ground in raging passion. Thankfully, perhaps, they were interrupted.

“William!” Georgiana's delighted squeal jolted them both to reality. Darcy turned to his sister as she rushed through the door, Mary and Kitty trailing. Weakly holding Lizzy with his left arm, he hugged his sister and kissed her cheek.

“Georgie, how are you, dearest? Miss Mary, Miss Kitty,” he said as he inclined his head. “It is a pleasure to see you both. I believe I am indebted to you for your excellent care of my wife in my absence. Name your desired reward, and I shall grant it.” Kitty giggled and Mary smiled serenely.

Lizzy slipped away from his side and he glanced over with alarm. He observed her slowly returning to the flowers strewn on the dirt. Georgiana was babbling in unrestrained joy, apparently intending to summarize the week's events in the next two minutes. Darcy attempted to listen to his sister and the occasional interjections from Mary and Kitty, responding appropriately while focusing on his wife. Both arms now ached with loss and he sensed a tension in her posture, or more aptly a hesitancy and mild trembling. She bent to retrieve the scattered flowers, hands frequently moving to her face, but he could not determine the cause as her back was to him.

Just as he took a step toward her, she rose and turned, smiling brightly but tears evident on her cheeks. He hastened to her, brushing the moisture away. “Beloved, are you well?”

Lizzy waved his concern away airily. “I am perfect, now, my darling. Simply overemotional these days. I cry at the drop of a hat, so be duly warned.” She laughed and smiled, tiptoeing to kiss his cheek while grasping his hand. She frowned, peering at his fingers. “Your hand is so cold and pale.” She raised the right to compare. “William, what is wrong with your hand?”

“It is of no moment, love. We shall discuss it later, I promise.”

Tears were gathering again. “William…” she whispered, but a footman appeared to announce breakfast. Darcy kissed her lightly and smiled.

“Excuse me, ladies, I must freshen up then shall join you in the dining room.” He turned to his wife. “I will not be long,” he began, but she was vehemently shaking her head.

“I am not tolerating you out of my sight! I can help you change and clean up.”

“The job will likely not be accomplished if you follow me into my dressing room,” he declared quietly in her ear with a grin.

Lizzy tossed her head as she clasped his arm and steered toward the door. “I will take my chances. Besides, meals have been known to wait around here without severe deficiency, Mr. Darcy. Martha,” she said, addressing a passing maid and ignoring her husband's chuckle, “please place these in the Master Chambers in several vases, and inform Samuel that Mr. Darcy has arrived.”

Samuel, however, was waiting for his Master with fresh water and supplies. Lizzy authoritatively sat Darcy on his stool and clinically began unbuttoning his coats. It was a struggle for Darcy to not reciprocate by attacking her garments, the nearness of her body frankly driving him mad and only Samuel's presence forestalling him. A jolt of pain when she unwittingly tugged his coats over his shoulder—eliciting an audible gasp and grimace as he instinctively grabbed her hand and jerked backward—replaced all romantic musings temporarily.

“Elizabeth, love, I have a confession,” he hoarsely stated, gingerly rubbing the throbbing shoulder and meeting her anxious eyes.

Never releasing his gaze, Lizzy said, “Samuel, please leave us. I will assist Mr. Darcy.” Once the door was closed she caressed his face, speaking softly, “You are hurt. Tell me what happened.”

“I did not wish to distress you further, beloved. Please forgive me for not being forthright. It occurred when the Duke was foolishly attempting to ride Athena. You remember which one she is?” Lizzy nodded, working to carefully extradite him from his clothes. “Well, he was thrown, as I wrote, but I did not include the fact that I was in the corral as well trying to control her.” He flinched and inhaled with a hiss as the waistcoat was pulled away. Lizzy gently elevated his left arm as she lifted his shirt. He groaned, then continued through grit teeth. “Athena did not appreciate her treatment, so she wrenched my arm and lashed out forcefully, as you can now discern for yourself,” he finished in a lame whisper.

A red impression of a horse's hoof in flawless detail graced his upper left chest, surrounded by colorful blotches from sternum to nipple to axilla to shoulder blade. His left arm was noticeably paler and grasp weaker, although the tactility was thankfully normal. Tears were coursing down Lizzy's face as she tenderly palpated the area. Darcy brushed her cheeks. “Do not cry, beloved, it is merely a bruise and muscle strain. Trust me when I say I have suffered much worse. The physician examined me thoroughly. There are no broken bones, the skin intact, and the sensitivity is returning. Please do not fret, Elizabeth.”

“You should be resting, not on a horse for two days.” She sobbed, leaning in to plant soft kisses along the contused flesh.

Darcy again inhaled sharply, but not from pain. His hands encircled her hips and bottom as he buried his face into her hair-cloaked neck. “I could no longer survive without you, my love,” he murmured huskily. “I needed you to heal me, not rest.”

She withdrew to gaze into his face, eyes shimmering, smiling sweetly, and touching each feature tenderly. “Sometimes I am yet amazed at how deeply I love you, Fitzwilliam. This week has been torture, but it has been enlightening in revealing to me how profoundly I require you in my life. Not that I doubted our love and unity in any meaningful way, but I do not think I fully realized all the inconsequentials. Hearing your voice, sharing the little moments of my day, reading with you, taking sips of your brandy, stealing food off your plate so I do not appear a glutton, dressing to match your attire, arguing with you over some silly thing. Do you have any notion of how often I would think, ‘Wait until I tell William what so-in-so said.’ Or, ‘How William will laugh when I tell him this’?” They laughed together, Darcy nodding in absolute understanding.

Lizzy smoothed the hair away from his face, cupping his jaw and kissing lavishly before again withdrawing. He moaned lowly, eyes glazed with desire. She removed his right hand from her thigh and kissed each finger before placing his palm over the soft mound on her belly. “Mostly I missed sharing our child with you,” she whispered, smiling joyously at the wonder crossing his expression as he gently pressed and explored.

“I cannot believe the difference a week has made.” He was grinning foolishly, unaware that Elizabeth had loosened her dress until it fell over his head where he was nestled into her stomach. She laughed as he freed himself from the fabric, grinning up at her as she untied the chemise and exposed her front side.

Bared, the small bulge and thickened waistline were clearly visible, as was the rest of her glorious body, placing a serious dilemma before Darcy. His groin lurched in response to her luscious flesh, but he could not resist reverently touching the evidence of their child. Tears sprang to his eyes, and, kissing her abdomen, he spoke chokingly, “Sweet child of mine, I am home. This is your father and I love you. Oh God, Elizabeth, this is so amazing! Can you feel her often? Will I be able to yet?”

“I feel him frequently. Tiny flickers deep inside only; however, I think we are close to feeling him externally. Maybe another week or two.”

Darcy was absently caressing her belly while studying her eyes. “Have you been well? Any further pains? That news deeply concerned me, but I trusted Aunt Madeline's opinion, and you said they ceased.”

Lizzy shook her head. “Physically, I am marvelous. My only pains have been in my heart.” Fingers laced through his hair, Lizzy continued breathlessly, “Fitzwilliam, my lover and my soul, if you are not too famished or hurting I would prefer to make love. I have longed for your touch on my body and the ecstasy of our joining. I will handle you delicately,” she finished with a mischievous smirk.

In truth, Darcy was famished, having not eaten since the previous night. Nonetheless, his hunger for her was far greater. Running hands inside her chemise, he again kissed her belly as he rose slowly, placing moist kisses up her torso to bosom while stroking her shuddering flesh. Lizzy moaned, arching into him and releasing a shaky breath while trailing fingers over his back and shoulders, carefully avoiding the damaged areas, panting with need and delight. He released her breast suddenly with a groan, claiming her mouth in a pervasive kiss as he crushed her body into his, pain seemingly forgotten. He was clearly lost in a haze of desire. The weak hand kneaded one perfect breast as he continued to ravage her mouth, intoxicated by her breath and succulent lips.

Lizzy was no less aroused, but his dressing room was not where she wished to love her husband. Twisting out of his clutches with effort, mildly amused at the expression of glazed confusion flittering over his face, she took his hand and led him into their bedroom. She sat him on the edge of the bed and knelt to remove his boots. Darcy was a man obsessed. The pain of his shoulder was insignificant compared to the raging agony to love his wife. Fleetingly, he wondered how he had ever managed to pass so many years without intimacy when one week was nearly killing him! Of course, he rationally understood that it was not intimacy in the clinical, carnal aspect that he desired, but the consuming demand to bond with his wife. To communicate with her in this profoundly fulfilling way, to give her pleasure, to feel her and taste her, to bury himself into her as they became one body for a time, to possess her as only he ever would, to express his passionate love for her… it was paradise.

He played with her hair as she completed her task, peeling the chemise off each creamy shoulder as he trembled with desire. She looked up at him from her stooped position between his knees, hands traveling over strong thighs to the buttons of his breeches. “You should lie down to avoid hurting your shoulder.” She rose to her knees, stroking under the loosened waistband to his bottom while slipping the tip of her tongue into his navel.

Darcy gasped, hands tightening on her shoulders. “God, my Lizzy, do you have any idea how desperately I need you!” She was trailing moist kisses up to his chest with hands probing. Lizzy stood finally, allowing the chemise to fall. Darcy groaned harshly, shaking his head slightly and closing his eyes. “Beloved, I should warn you. My self-control is naught.” His voice was rough with urgency. Meeting her eyes with voracious yearning rawly exposed, he stammered, “At the merest touch of you I am certain I will explode in utter rapture.”

Lizzy smiled, pulling him to his feet. She kissed him lightly on the lips. “Lay down and fret not.” He removed his breeches, joining her on their bed, carefully lying flat with Lizzy to his right, encircled with his strong arm. She kissed his neck, caressing over his firm chest, whispering into his ear, “I can assure you, Fitzwilliam, love of my life, my hunger for you is as tremendous.”

With simultaneous sounds of pleasure, they kissed, greedily absorbing each other, drowning in unparalleled love. Always conscious of the injury to his left side, Lizzy loved her husband with abandon, their mutual delight fulfilling and powerful.

Afterwards they lay entwined with Lizzy clutched tightly in Darcy's right arm for several blissful minutes, breathing heavily, and relishing the delightful sensations yet coursing through their bodies as well as the astounding felicity in merely holding the other. Lizzy was crying silently, tears of contentment and relief. With a soft grunt, Darcy turned to the side, hugging her tightly to him while smoothing the tousled tresses of her hair away from her face.

He frowned. “Beloved, why are you crying?”

Lizzy smiled and shook her head. “Happiness, love. I warned you, did I not? I cry frequently, yet now I judge for good reason.” She fingered his hair. “I missed you so terribly, William, and am delirious to have you back. I love you, you know.”

“Yes, I know.” He kissed her, caressing over her body, already sensing reawakening desire, but she pulled away and snatched his hand. Kissing his cool fingers tenderly before sitting up, leaning to bestow a quick kiss to his forehead, she then leapt out of bed. “Where…?”

“You need nourishment of the substantial variety,” she declared decisively, wrapping his enormous robe around her.

Darcy smiled. “You stole my robe.”

“Borrowed out of necessity,” she corrected. “I furthermore liberally splashed your cologne on it, which will likely render it undesirable to you, so I guess it now belongs to me,” she concluded smugly, approaching him with two more pillows retrieved from the armoire. “Here, let me help you up. I will prop you up with these pillows and we can have breakfast in bed. Easy, dearest, allow me to… William! Behave!” He had taken advantage of the gaping opening to the voluminous robe and was caressing her skin and amusing himself at her breast. “Mr. Darcy, I am serious! How can I nurse you to health if you are a belligerent patient?” She slapped searching hands and sternly scowled at him, but he unrepentantly seized her head and pulled close for a thorough kiss. Lizzy melted, willingly relenting.

He teased her lips, murmuring his love huskily. “Call for a tray, my Lizzy, but swiftly. Relay our apologies to the girls, for I intend to keep you in our bed all day.” He grinned. “The Master has spoken, and I am wounded so must be granted whatever I wish.” Lizzy snorted but did not argue.

Couching her phrases carefully, Lizzy explained to Georgiana their need for solitude. Georgiana expressed complete understanding, smiling sweetly and pretending not to notice her brother's robe nor Lizzy tangled hair. The girls had plans to picnic at Hyde Park anyway. The tray was heavily laden and Darcy's stomach released a sustained and booming growl at the sight. Lizzy ate as well, although she had eaten upon rising, having found that her increased appetite would not permit her waiting until breakfast was formally served. She assisted Darcy, claiming his invalid state necessitated feeding him. He did not dispute the assertion, kissing her frequently or stroking her satin skin between bites.

They sat close, legs entwined and talking softly amid the kisses. They both avoided the topic of Lady Catherine. Lizzy was unaware of Lord Matlock's letter and simply refused to spoil their reunion. Darcy felt much the same, augmented by an unrelenting guilt. Instead, she humorously debriefed him on the week's events, the throng of people she had met, and the fascinating conversations. All the while she massaged his enervated arm and shoulder with fragrant oil, forcing life back into it.

Darcy groaned, finally sated, relaxing into the pillows and closing his eyes. “Dearest, that feels marvelous. As always, your every touch enlivens me.”

“Provide me clarity on Mr. Joshua Daniels. Is he suitable for Mary?”

Darcy answered sleepily, “I do not know him as well as his father. Mr. Andrew Daniels has been our family's solicitor for years, as was his father before him. It seems to have become a familial business, although that would matter naught if they were not superb financial handlers and lawyers. There is an elder son, Benjamin, who works in the firm as well.” He paused to yawn with jaw breaking intensity. “I believe there are two or three younger siblings. Anyway, Joshua is a pleasant young man, intelligent, reserved, and serious. The firm manages numerous accounts besides ours, and keenly aware of the fees charged to me, I can readily conclude their overall income is substantial.” He opened one eye to peer at his wife. “Are you requesting I play matchmaker?”

“No. If Mr. Daniels is interested in Mary, it is his place to pursue.” She smiled winsomely at her spouse. “Let us pray he is more eloquent at expressing his affection then other gentlemen I could name.”

Darcy smiled. “Note: I did not add foolish or moronic to the list of Mr. Daniels's attributes. If the attraction was as immediate as you intimate, I daresay he will proceed with fluent grace and alacrity, unlike other gentlemen I could name.” He chuckled, tugging her onto his lap and purposefully untying the sash of his robe.

Lizzy repositioned herself to straddle his thighs, massaging gently along his shoulders. “Your grace was merely gradual in revelation, my love. You have since redeemed your past missteps perfectly adequately, I judge.” She was smiling impishly.

“Perfectly adequate is all? This will not do. Let me see if I can further improve your opinion of me.” His hands caressed along her thighs and around her bottom, his own smile quite naughty.

“I thought you were about to fall asleep.” She sighed, kissing the top of his head as he nestled his face between her breasts.

“Elizabeth,” he sighed happily, voice muffled and resonant, “my precious, beloved, beautiful wife. I fully intend to sleep with you enclosed in my arms, but first I absolutely must shower you with kisses and caresses. I covet the warmth of your skin under my hands and lips and body. I yearn to love you slowly, wholly absorbing your essence into my soul as you attain rapture in my embrace. It is essential that I whisper endless words of love and faithfulness and desire and happiness into your dainty ears.”

As he spoke he removed the robe, brushing and fondling over her body. With a fluid roll, she was on her back, spread before him in all her naked glory, his right arm supporting him. “William, your arm… we should stay upright.” He halted her words with a sensual kiss, left hand traveling with deliberate patience over her abdomen. Lizzy's massaging had done wonders. His arm was warmer and stronger, his amazingly masterful touch not the least bit diminished as was abundantly established in the following minutes.

Darcy watched her face, reveling in her passion and the transcendent beauty of her whole countenance. Lord, she was gorgeous! Observing her joy as accomplished through him was astoundingly erotic and stimulating, his love for her flourishing to a level of near agony in its intensity. As they made love, Darcy could feel the small swell of their child against his abdomen and it excited him tremendously. The blessed creation of their love pressing into him was an aphrodisiac. Their firstborn safe and secure, growing in the womb of his beloved wife thrilled him immeasurably. His release was like a surging tide, rushing over and through every cell of his body as a cleansing, refreshing wave, cries of delight rumbling out of his mouth in a gush of profoundly expressed love.

Darcy collapsed with a prolonged groan and ragged inhalation, barely rolling to Lizzy's side. With one arm and leg heavily draped over her, he grated her name and promptly fell into an exhausted sleep. Lizzy smiled, transferred the dead weight of his arm off her breasts, and then stared at him for very long while. She caressed tenderly, fingering through silky hair, inhaling deeply of his scent, in all ways satisfied and complete. Her husband was home… home not being Darcy House, but next to her and inside her soul. Smiling dreamily, Lizzy too fell asleep.

Lizzy woke refreshed and crushed under the immovable weight of her near comatose husband. Darcy had not budged an inch, respirations deep and regular as he slept. She kissed his shoulder then wiggled from under his limbs, physical necessities demanding haste. Upon reentering the bedchamber, she saw Darcy had yet to move. For another two hours Lizzy sat propped next to his warm, slumbering body, intermittently reading and staring at him. The lunch hour had long since passed when a famished Lizzy decided it was time to wake him, the baby's demand for nourishment coupled with the desire to hear his voice overcoming her sympathy.

She called for a tray of fruit and bread and a bottle of wine, and then returned to his side. Planting gentle kisses over shoulders and back, she whispered his name until he stirred. “Beloved, I am perishing from hunger but wish to eat with you.” He groaned, moving sluggishly and grimacing with discomfort. “Easy, love,” she whispered, “let me loosen your muscles.” She firmly kneaded the tightness across his back, palpating knots in both shoulders. Applying guarded attention to his left arm, he sighed in relief and it was clear that the rejuvenation was markedly improved.

“I had an interesting dream one night while you were away,” she began.

“Only one? I had dozens of interesting dreams every night, lover mine,” he said, opening one eye and grinning.

Lizzy laughed and slapped his back. “I am not referring to those dreams, Mr. Darcy. This was so vivid, as if a premonition or message. We were at Pemberley, and there was snow falling. I walked through your mother's rooms, now decorated as I have imagined them, on into the nursery. It was warm and cheery, painted a muted blue and yellow. An enormous cradle of oak sat in the corner with pillows of white linen and lace. You sat beside in a rocking chair with a small bundle held in your arms. I knew instantly it was our baby wrapped with blankets, although I could not see the face. You were crying tears of joy, your face resplendent with contentment, your broad hands securely nestling the infant's head and back.” Darcy had turned onto his side and was observing his wife's dreamy face, envisioning the scene flawlessly as she described it. “You looked up at me with a luminous smile and amazing pride. Then you said, ‘Elizabeth, he is so beautiful. Alexander, as we wished, shall be his name.’”

Lizzy gazed lovingly at her spouse. “It was so real, William. I woke immediately and he was fluttering crazily, so much so that I could almost feel him with my hand. I knew, I do know, as surely as I know my love for you, that this child is a boy. Does this sound insane?”

He sat up, requiring her assistance, and tenderly stroked her cheek. “Alexander is one of my names, as you know, but there are two facts of which you are unaware. Alexander is the name of the boy in the portrait of the first Darcys from the 1400s, the one who so resembles me as a youth. It is a family name that has materialized frequently, both in males and females, over the generations. I was gifted the name after my father's younger brother, who died at the age of twelve. My father had been extremely devoted to that Alexander, and I grew up hearing stories of this namesake whom I had never met. I always liked the name, not simply because of my uncle, but because it is a pleasing name. Strong, the name of a king, and can be shortened if necessary without sounding idiotic, like Fitz, which I abhor, or Will.” He kissed her gently. “I do not know if it was a message or a premonition, my love, but I can tell you that I have always desired my son to be named Alexander and we have never discussed this. So, I do not believe you insane.” He smiled, kissing her again. “I presume, therefore, that the Christian name has been unanimously decided?”

Lizzy laughed and nodded, hugging cautiously. “By the way, who on earth calls you Fitz?”

“No one more than once, I can assure you. Now, how about some lunch?”

They ate in the sitting room, contentedly snuggled on the sofa, conversing about general topics with laughter and effortless ease. Lizzy excused herself briefly, the need to utilize the water closet frequent. Darcy stood by the window when she returned and she encircled his waist, laying her head between his shoulder blades while he clasped her hands. They stood for a time in silence.

“William, I have something to tell you that I have avoided. Forgive me for evasiveness or concealment, but I feared your anger and disappointment spoiling our reunion. However, I cannot equivocate any longer. Lady Catherine came here on the day you left and… spoke with me. It was… unpleasant.”

Darcy turned and embraced her tightly, voice heavy with emotion when he replied, “I am aware of it, dearest. Lord Matlock wrote me, although not until the day of my accident.” He cupped her surprised face, eyes mournful. “Elizabeth, can you ever forgive me for not being here? I swear, I never thought she would do this. I thought time would have mellowed her opinion and when I wrote to her about our blessed news I imagined she would be thrilled for me. It is inconceivable that she did this, but more so that I abandoned you. Please, I beg you, forgive me for not protecting you and so foolishly assuming she would behave as a proper lady.”

Lizzy was shaking her head, tears springing to her eyes. “Oh William! It is I who should be begging your pardon!” She pulled away and began pacing, Darcy watching her in confusion.

“Elizabeth, I do not understand.”

Lizzy sighed. “She said so many things that were simply inane: accusing me of marrying you for your money, intimating that a Bennet could not birth a boy, saying that I was forcing you to harbor secrets from her and encouraging the rift, and other nonsense.” Lizzy glanced up at his darkening face then quickly looked away, flushing with shame. “She also talked about the lack of invitations as if she knew and how your social standing and the Darcy name had been hurt by marrying me.”

“Elizabeth, surely you lent no credence to that absurdity?”

“Not at first, no. Yet, I wondered. I remembered what you had said when you first proposed, about my rank and circumstances. She was right about the lack of invitations, and I know so little about your world and the requirements. I hated that I may have caused you pain or difficulties, even though I could not have done differently than to marry you. Then, Madeline told me that you knew about Lady Catherine's knowledge of my pregnancy, and I…” she caught her breath with a sob, “was angry and confused and hurt. It made perfect sense that she would attack me, hating me as she does and I thought… you should have…” she covered her face with her hands, collapsing onto the chaise in tears.

Darcy had turned to stare out the window, emotions in turmoil. Damn you to hell, Aunt Catherine! he screamed in his mind, yet it was his own guilt as much as anger that raged through him. Elizabeth was crying behind him; and he longed to run to her at the same moment he wanted to yell at her. How could she believe one word of his aunt's vindictiveness? When would she forgive him his past arrogance and misconceptions? How could she think he would purposely desert her? Of course, that is exactly why you are so riddled with guilt, Darcy.

He sighed, grasping for control and understanding. He turned, heart instantly melting at the sight of the woman he loved more than his own miserable life crying with heartache. He was across the room and enfolding her into his arms before another beat of his heart. Reclining onto the chaise with her cuddled between his legs, he lifted her chin to meet his eyes.

“Elizabeth Darcy, listen to me carefully. I love you. I absolutely refuse to allow Lady Catherine's spite to separate us, even minutely. We must rationally discuss this. You are correct in that I should have foreseen her actions. Yes, I should have,” he confirmed in response to her negative exclamation. “Of course, even if I had suspected that she might still confront you with vicious words, I may not have been available to halt her had I been in Town. I will undoubtedly persist in my self-chastisement because I consider it my duty to shield you from woes, but logically I cannot expect to invariably succeed. Nor can you expect me to, I suppose.”

He held her tighter, speaking softly with old remorse, “I have hurt you so in the past, beloved. I wish I could erase my horrid words more than you will ever comprehend, but I cannot. Instead, I want more than anything to make your life perfect, blissful at all moments, full of the love you deserve. I reckon that you feel much the same for me. Naturally, this is ludicrous. Life is not flawless, no matter how close one may obtain excellence. All we can truly promise each other is to love and honor and respect and communicate.”

“William, I am so sorry. I feel at times as if I am going crazy, my emotions are in such turmoil. Madeline says it is the pregnancy, and perhaps this is so, yet I cannot place all blame there as if it excuses my stupidity. I had to confess my words and thoughts but I did not truly mean it—only fleetingly in the moment of distress. My faith in you, in your capabilities and choices but primarily in your love for me, is unwavering. I have been distraught all week imagining your anger at Lady Catherine or me—or worse yet, your guilt and disappointment. I never want you to regret marrying me—”

“Elizabeth! I will not listen to you speak those words! Angry I may be from time to time. Guilty for not achieving my set standards, yes, but regret? I could sooner regret breathing than to regret having you as my wife.” He embraced her crushingly and actually shuddered, inhaling raggedly.

They held each other for a very long while, reassured by the silence of their hearts beating in tune. Lizzy lazily caressed his chest, the foolish conjectures of the past week fading into the wind as her husband comforted with tender kisses and a sturdy grip. Finally, he asked her to tell him everything that had been said. She did, leaving nothing out except for the revelation of his grief when she refused him. That disclosure was too private and painful to relive, for either of them.

“You are correct, you know, in that my aunt never has understood me. Of course, that is as much my fault as hers. I do not open myself easily to anyone, as you can attest. My aunt and I are not confidantes. My mother and her sister were not overly friendly or intimate. My mother was closest to the middle Fitzwilliam sister, my Aunt Muriel. She passed when I was very young and I barely remember her. Anyway, Catherine was the eldest, and despite her constant assertions, my mother never planned for Anne and me to marry. Oh, I think she probably thought it would be sweet when we were born so closely together, but it was not a serious arrangement. Aunt Catherine always pushed it though, and my mother remained silent, probably out of intimidation from her brazen older sister, but mostly because she knew I am far too stubborn to be forced into anything. The irony is that the compulsory association with each other did lead to a strong affection, but as cousins should.

“My Uncle Lewis passed four years ago, and per Aunt Catherine's request, I assumed the role of advisor to the estate. It was all a ploy, as she had run roughshod over my uncle for years and knew more about the estate's affairs than he did! Still, I found it easier to comply rather than argue. Besides, I like Kent and enjoyed visiting Anne. There was never any agreement with my uncle, or official duty. That is a boldfaced lie.”

Darcy paused, peering intently into Lizzy's eyes, piercing her very soul as only he could. “As to the rest, Elizabeth, I honestly do not know where to begin. A part of me wants to shake you until your teeth rattle for being so foolish as to entertain the tiniest notion that I would care one iota what anyone in society thinks. Yet, I recognize your innocence and cannot deny that I planted the seed of doubt by my own words at Kent. I will not lie to you and deny that there are clearly those who will temporarily shun me for my choice of wife. That is the reality of this world I live in. In this my aunt is partly truthful. The invitations have been markedly diminished. What she does not appreciate is that I am utterly indifferent and frankly relieved. In the past, I denied the vast majority of solicitations received because I was not interested. They consisted primarily of families with eligible daughters or business propositions designed to profit by my wealth. I have told you again and again, Elizabeth, how I hated the falseness of the ton. If this is the world and opinion that truly mattered to me, then I would have married a Caroline Bingley years ago!”

He painfully grasped her chin with his thumb and index finger, raptor gaze of darkened blue eyes boring into her. “Elizabeth, we have discussed this ad nauseam during our engagement and I cannot revisit the period during which I lost you, and the torment that caused to my soul. The agony is too extreme. I would lay down my very life for you and our child. That is not merely a poetic phrase; it is the truth. My wealth, Pemberley, my horses, social standings, or family ties—none of it has any meaning without you. If you do not yet comprehend this and my love for you above all else in this world, then there is nothing more I can say or do to convince you.”

Elizabeth was crying silently, wanting to hide her face in shame, but he would not slacken his grip. He continued to study her as if reading into her mind through her eyes. She clutched him tightly about the waist, returning his direct stare, pouring all her love and remorse into her teary eyes. At last he nodded, seemingly satisfied with what he gleaned. He smiled slightly and leaned in for a tender kiss. Lizzy released a shuddering sigh of liberation as he kissed her. It was a long kiss, devoid of passion, but replete with love and assurance and peace.