Loving Mr. Darcy: Journeys Beyond Pemberley

Chapter Sixteen Return to Pemberley

The day in mid July when the Darcys were to return to Pemberley dawned fair with the promise of extreme heat. Darcy woke even earlier than usual, the sun barely cresting the tops of the buildings surrounding Grosvenor Square. The bedchamber remained sunken in deep shadows, the drawn curtains effectively blocking the faint rays of light. Darcy lay comfortably in that hazy realm between sleep and full wakefulness. Elizabeth lay with her head nestled perfectly in the bend of his shoulder and chest, the remainder of her lovely body pressed firmly into his with one leg draped over him. Her steady respirations indicated her sleeping state.

Darcy smiled drowsily and pulled her closer, softly stroking her hip. The prospect of being home filled him with bliss and peace. This sojourn in London, although of less duration than usual, had without any doubt been his most satisfying in recent memory. The reason was all wrapped up with the woman he held in his arms… his wife. Each event attended, soiree or ball danced at, and conversation engaged in had transcended all past ones. In addition, he had managed to conclude all pressing business, paving the way for another long tarriance in Derbyshire.

His happiness was almost frightening in its intensity. That small pessimistic part of his subconscious occasionally reared up, invading his joy with a stab of fear. His heart would clench, breathing increase, and skin cool for brief moments, all evaporating the second she looked into his eyes or laughed her sparkling laugh. He simply could not harbor anxiety in a soul so utterly invaded with love. Is that not what the Scriptures taught? Light drives out all darkness? She was his light, his lover, his breath and heartbeat, his soul.

He yawned and stretched slightly, not wishing to wake her. It was very early and, once again, they had entered their bed late. His greatest concern lately had been her health. While his arm healed and strength increased, Elizabeth had grown paler, with tiny lines of weariness appearing about her fine eyes. It was the endless agenda of visitations and parties in which she insisted they partake. Despite his assurances to the contrary, she yet fretted over his societal responsibilities and continued to foster a residual need to prove herself to both him and the ton. It angered him and they had argued over it, but she could not be swayed.

Recognizing that his irritation and attempts at logic merely wore on her already fragile emotions, he turned in frustration to his Aunt Madeline. She encouraged him to surrender and allow Elizabeth to follow through on what she perceived as her responsibility to him.

“Elizabeth is far stronger than you give her credit, William. She is well, and the child is well. She needs to do this to feel wholly competent as Mistress and Mrs. Darcy. Soon you shall be in Pemberley without the demands on your wife. In the end, this time to dazzle society and win their approval will benefit her heart and mind. Quit playing the mothering hen, and leave her be. Do not attempt to comprehend her emotions because she is a female and you will not succeed. Instead, trust me and trust her. Your wife loves you, William, and does this for you, however misplaced you deem it. Show your appreciation and quit harping!”

Thus, he had done so, as difficult as it was. His relief at the prospect of being surrounded by the solitude of Pemberley was a tangible thing; however, he could not deny that Elizabeth had dazzled the ton, far beyond what he had expected. His pride in her had grown profoundly. She was amazing in all ways and he loved her deeply for the extents she had gone to for him. Once he figuratively stepped back and allowed her free rein, it further stunned him at the breadth of her nearly inexhaustible stamina and shrewd assimilation of society's mores. She was always perfectly groomed, always witty and lively, remembered all names and gossipy facts gleaned, was suitably serious or humorous depending on the situation, never remotely overstepped the boundaries of propriety, and never once forgot that she was Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley. In all situations she shone, yet in a way that placed the spotlight equally on both of them.

If all that was not enough, she heightened his love and respect by always supremely placing his needs and desires first. She met his hungry passion with equal fervor, devoted time to be with him, and proved daily, in the minutest details, just how boundless her love, adoration, and appreciation. The unique methods she devised to demonstrate her love amazed him. For instance, each meal taken at home included at least one of his favorite dishes. In fact, lemon-flavored desserts in dozens of varieties had so frequently been served that he was nearly to the point of desiring to never see a lemon for the remainder of his life. Not that he would dream of revealing this to her.

There were the little gifts she purchased for him whenever she wandered near a shopping district; the fresh cut flowers daily placed by her hand in his dressing room; the household duties she flawlessly assumed that, in turn, freed his time; the spontaneous massages to his feet or neck, shoulders or back; the tea or cocoa or brandy she brought to his study while he worked; and the notes she secreted in one of his pockets whenever he left the house. The first time she had done this, the third day after arriving in London, he had discovered the folded piece of parchment while in a meeting with Mr. Andrew Daniels. The note was brief, but contained an explicit reference to a particular part of his anatomy, raising a brisk flush to his cheeks and causing Mr. Daniels to inquire after his health! Some of the notes simply said “I love you” or something equally romantic, some were humorous or contained a short sonnet, others were extremely intimate or downright erotic. He never knew what to expect. His favorite was the one which merely had an imprint of her perfectly pursed and luscious lips. All of them now resided in his third box of Elizabeth-related mementos.

Darcy smiled into the fading light, turning to plant a tender kiss to her head as he sighed. God, how I love her! He captured a clump of her scattered hair, running it through his fingers and bringing it to his nose to inhale her scent. Lavender, as usual, and soft as silk. Seven months plus they had now been wed. Such a short amount of time, really, in the larger span of one's entire life. Yet, for both of them, it was as an eternity while also seeming like a mere day. They knew each other so intimately, their faults and virtues revealed in total, and they were connected on a visceral level; nevertheless, they still were daily stunned at how tremendously they desired to understand even more of each other. Not merely physically, although their ardor certainly was intense, but in even the tiniest ways. Simply to be in the same room was bliss.

Darcy turned slightly, gently drawing her even closer. He could feel the firm swell of their child pressing against his hip. Three times now in the past week Lizzy had felt the baby push into her hand. Each time she had dashed to wherever he was; the last time had occurred just the day before while he was in his bath. Samuel had started, almost dropping the bucket of water onto Darcy's head, but recovered quickly. He was quite used to these sorts of interruptions now and exited hastily, neither of them noticing. Darcy had intently and patiently waited, but the baby did not cooperate. His disappointment was acute. He would never admit it, but he had moments of serious pique thinking it monumentally unfair that Elizabeth was the only recipient of these marvelous sensations when he was equally responsible for the child's existence!

He sighed again and closed his eyes, attempting to recapture sleep, although he knew it was fruitless. He ached to be home with an urgency only once matched, and that was when they were first married. The reasons were similar: He wanted to be alone with his wife. Darcy jested about being a selfish man, yet it was banter based partially on fact. He selfishly wanted her all to himself without the endless demands of work or society. Before they knew it, the baby would be born, and as anxious and excited as they were, the reality is that life would drastically change. These next few months, to his reckoning, must be treasured.

Sadly, their complete solitude would not commence quite yet. Charles and Jane would be traveling with them and planned to stay for at least two weeks, possibly more. The Bingleys wished to examine the Hasberry Estate, and Elizabeth expressed the desire to spend quality sister time, the two having had few occasions over the past weeks to be alone. If all went according to the Darcys’ hopes, the Bingleys would be settled in Derbyshire by winter. Caroline Bingley had somehow insinuated herself into the invitation. Darcy was not at all pleased, but, as Charles was his dearest friend, he had grit his teeth and succumbed.

Mary was to stay with the Gardiners for a spell, the courtship with Mr. Daniels progressing at a steady pace, but Kitty would be joining the Darcys for a few weeks. Georgiana was in tears at leaving Mary behind, but the friendship with Kitty had finally blossomed, and allowing her to join the entourage traveling to Pemberley eased Georgiana's unhappiness.

Dr. Penaflor and Uncle George planned to stay in London for an additional week or so before traveling to Pemberley in time for the Summer Festival. How long they intended to stay in England was a mystery. George was taking his “vacation” quite seriously, refusing to discuss timetables or pinpoint agendas with any degree of accuracy. Darcy smiled and chuckled lowly. In truth, he was delighted with his uncle and Raul Penaflor, both men welcome to stay forever if they wished it. The combined persuasion of every member of the family, aided by the insistence of Anne herself, had finally worn on Lady Catherine and she had allowed both doctors to examine Anne. The collaborating diagnosis was chronic anemia, to the near apoplectic rage of Anne's aged physician, who had screamingly abused both men with accusations ranging from quackery to witchcraft and more. Surprisingly, it was Anne herself who commanded a servant to physically remove the man, with Lady Catherine frozen in shock and at a rare loss for words. The remedies prescribed were primarily dietary in nature, with a regimen of herbal extract teas and a special tonic. How she would respond to the treatment remained to be seen, but Darcy was hopeful. He and Elizabeth formally invited Anne to Pemberley for the Festival, but definitive plans were yet to be made. Lord and Lady Matlock had taken the entire, “Anne Situation”—as they jokingly referred to it—under their jurisdiction.

Darcy began to sense the early tendrils of sleep retaking him, his wife's warm body and steady breathing lulling him into an extreme place of contentment and relaxation. However, just as his mind clouded, a sudden, prolonged prod into the flesh of his hip jolted him into full wakefulness. His eyes flew open as paralysis consumed him so utterly that he ceased breathing and his heart abstained from pumping. The insistent poking continued with amazing strength, considering how small the extremity utilized. His son, as they had unconsciously began referring to the baby, apparently was displeased with being squeezed. Darcy realized he was grinning rather foolishly, and now his heart was palpitating. He slid his left hand carefully along Elizabeth's abdomen, until between his hip and the bulge, and pressed lightly. Evidently, his son was engaged in a bout of extended exercise, as he proceeded to punch, poke, and roll about inside his warm cocoon, all felt by a teary-eyed father.

It was some minutes of incredible soul-shattering joy before Darcy became aware that Elizabeth had woken and was staring into his face, smile brilliant and eyes watery. They simply stared for the longest time, no words necessary, not that Darcy would have been able to speak.

Finally, the baby tired and his movements ceased. The Darcys gazed with love and some other emotion too intense to name. Darcy left the swell of her belly, encircling her, hip to buttocks, as he inclined to her lips. “Elizabeth,” he whispered, kissing slowly with indescribable tenderness, wet cheeks brushing over hers with tears mingling. Wordlessly, he traveled over her face, tasting their salty tears as he lingered over each precious feature, returning to her mouth only after adoring her face thoroughly. Still gently, he probingly penetrated her mouth, absorbing her essence as he gave of his own.

Eventually—no haste involved—he withdrew and met her eyes. Fingers feathered over her face as they studied each other, passion evident yet primarily veneration and happiness. “I love you, Elizabeth Darcy, with all my being,” he said, his voice a husky whisper. “I cannot express how precious you are to me. The mother of our children. The wonder of the miracle inside of you moves me so profoundly.” He kissed softly. “I never imagined…” his voice caught and he swallowed before resuming, “how blessed I am to have found you, my Elizabeth.”

He kissed deeply then, rolling her slowly to her back while lightly caressing over her warm skin. With a beaming smile he left her mouth, traveling leisurely down her neck with moist kisses and nibbles. Lizzy yawned and stretched deliciously under his strong body, twining her fingers through his thick hair as he attended to her bosom with gentle caresses and kisses. Weaving idly down her torso, he eventually nestled between her legs with mouth pressing delicate pecks over her belly.

Lying flat, the small mound of their child nearly disappeared, with only a palm-sized hardness palpable below her navel. Darcy murmured nonsense over this evidence of their love, tickling Lizzy's skin so that she giggled and squirmed.

“What are you saying to him, love?”

“I am informing him that he has been gifted to the very best mother in the entire world. Also, I am reintroducing myself and thanking him for finally allowing me to feel him. If need be, I shall squeeze him several times a day. He can kick me whenever the whim takes him!” He glanced up into her mirth-filled face. “He is strong, beloved, as I knew he would be. No wonder you have been able to feel him for so long.” He kissed her belly, then laid his cheek on top.

“How strange to love someone so small and yet unseen. You carry him, my heart, thus your love is undoubtedly stronger yet. It is such an amazing experience!” He began to turn his head but a sharp stab halted him.

As if in response to Darcy's voice and expressed devotion, the baby commenced a series of lazy pushes into his father's cheek. Darcy gasped, reaching quickly for Lizzy's hand to lie next to his cheek. Together they waited in silence as the tiny life exerted his individuality and vitality. In all the years and pregnancies that would follow—each of which were a miracle and cause for intense celebration, with Darcy and Lizzy never tiring of the simple wonder to be found in these internal movements—this first experience would eternally hold a special place in their hearts. Darcy wept silently without shame, so overcome that it was several minutes before he could think clearly. Lizzy rose slightly, grasping him in her arms and pulling upward until nestled snuggly in her embrace.

Tenderly and slowly they made love, passion cresting at a leisurely pace, yet intense and fulfilling as always. Afterwards, tingling and satiated, Darcy's body draped partially over Lizzy's while they dreamily caressed each other, they kissed softly and drowsily. “I love you, William,” Lizzy whispered as sleep claimed her, Darcy mumbling the same as he too drifted into a blissful slumber.

“I see it! Pemberley at last. Look, William!” Lizzy was bouncing on the seat as a child in her enthusiasm, Darcy laughing as he stroked her back.

“Yes, dearest love, I see it. Finally we are home.”

The carriage proceeded slowly up the lengthy drive leading to the Manor, tall trees shading the gravel avenue and interspersed so as to offer glimpses of the River Derwent to the left. Lizzy had been literally on the edge of her seat for the past hour as familiar Derbyshire then Pemberley terrain came into view. The trip of two days had passed uneventfully. The Darcys led the small caravan in their carriage, followed by Georgiana, Kitty, and Mrs. Annesley in a second, the Bingleys and Caroline in the third, and last the servants. The massive quantity of luggage, far more than when they left Pemberley two months ago, was distributed between all four conveyances.

Lizzy sighed and turned to her husband with a bright smile. “You understand that I do adore Darcy House, but nothing can compare to Pemberley.” She leaned into his chest, playing with the knots of his cravat and smiling sweetly. Brushing against parted lips, she whispered, “Tonight, my beloved husband, we shall stand on our balcony gazing at the stars over the valley. Then we shall make love in our bed in our chamber in our home and it will be fantastic, amazing, and beautiful. The perfect homecoming.”

Darcy spoke hoarsely, “My love, you should cease or we will not be waiting until tonight, I can assure you!”

“Tsk tsk. What an impatient man you are, Mr. Darcy! No self control whatsoever.”

“Who was it, Mrs. Darcy,” he spoke breathlessly, “that lowered the shades on this trip because she wanted what only I can give? Hmm?”

“You certainly did not argue the treatment, my dear. Very well then, we both lack the most basic virtues of bodily control and discipline. What a pity. We must work on that.”

“No, we shall not ‘work on that,’ my lover. When it comes to my desire for you, and vice versa, I never wish to rein in our impulses.” He kissed her tenderly, smoothing a few loose strands of hair and retucking them into her coiffure.

“Thank you, dear. Am I presentable?”

He chuckled. “Oh yes, love, you are presentable. Beautiful. Perfect. Delicious.” The carriage bumped over the cobblestones, drawing their attention away from each other. Moments later they halted before the grandly carved stone steps leading to the massive portico and front doors of Pemberley Manor. Mrs. Reynolds, Mr. Taylor, and Mr. Keith stood on the top steps, several footmen on the drive springing into action the second the carriage stopped.

Darcy assisted his wife from the carriage, glancing over to see the others exiting their carriages. Linking his wife's arm, they mounted the short stairs toward the smiling trio.

Mrs. Reynolds spoke first. “Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, we are so delighted to have you home. I have a light repast and tea waiting in the parlor, and all is prepared for the guests, sir. I took the liberty of preparing a couple's chamber for Mr. and Mrs. Bingley.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds. That completely slipped my mind. Did you place Miss Bennet next to Miss Darcy?”

“Yes, sir. Miss Bingley I placed in her usual room, seeing no call to alter that. Is this sufficient?”

“Perfectly, thank you.”

“Mrs. Reynolds, are the plans proceeding for the Festival as we had outlined?”

“Yes, Mistress. I have a detailed report on your desk. We can meet and discuss the particulars whenever you wish.”

“Excellent. Tomorrow will be soon enough.”

The others had alit and were climbing the stairs. Kitty's jaw had dropped, eyes sweeping the facade of the house rather than attending to her steps. Luckily, Georgiana was guiding with arms linked. Jane, naturally, was controlled in her surprise, yet Lizzy could tell she was impressed. With a broad smile, Lizzy grasped both her sister's hands, leaning in for kisses to their cheeks.

“Welcome to Pemberley! I am so happy to have you both here. Come inside and let me show you our home.” Darcy smiled at Elizabeth's zeal, also noting Caroline Bingley's sour expression. Lizzy, thankfully, did not notice, already steering her sisters through the doors. Inside the grand foyer, Lizzy introduced them to Mrs. Reynolds and Mr. Taylor, assuring that they could be called upon for any needs. Then she proceeded to tour them about the enormous room, pointing to various objects and offering history and insight with a thoroughness that surprised them all, even Darcy, who had not realized the depth of her knowledge regarding the house. They followed Lizzy as she ascended the grand staircase, chattering as she unerringly led to the main parlor, settling with relief onto comfortable sofas and chairs.

“It is as you claimed, Mrs. Darcy; you have changed nothing.”

“A few alterations here and there, Miss Bingley, but as I said, Pemberley is lovely as it is.” She glanced up at Darcy, who was talking to Bingley as he poured a brandy from the sidebar. “I did redecorate my parlor, which I shall show you all later. I suppose next I must tackle the nursery and bedchamber, but that chore shall be a delight.”

“Oh, I wish I did not have to leave!” Kitty moaned. “I want to help with the nursery.”

Lizzy patted her hand. “There there dear. Perhaps we can do some shopping before you return to Hertfordshire. Also, you can offer any opinion you may have on furnishings. After all, I am a novice and could use all the advice available!” She laughed, smiling up at her husband who had rejoined the group.

Miss Bingley spoke, “Surely you intend to hire a professional for this, do you not, Mrs. Darcy? Infant requirements are so specific, I would imagine. Would it not be wise to allow the nanny and others to arrange the needs?”

“Thank you for your concern, Miss Bingley,” Darcy replied in his firm voice, “however, Mrs. Darcy and I intend to educate ourselves fully. We will be proactive and wholly in charge of all aspects of our child's necessities. Jane, my steward informed me that the Hasberry Estate is still available, although there have been two seriously interested parties. He took the liberty of arranging an inspection for the morrow.”

“Jane, dear,” Bingley addressed his wife, “Darcy thought it wisest for us to meet alone with Mr. Greystone this initial time, man to man, so to speak. We can return the following day with you and Lizzy if the manor is acceptable.”

“Whatever you think best, Charles,” Jane replied calmly, but Elizabeth was frowning faintly.

“Excellent! Darcy and I will ride out there early then and perhaps…”

“Ride!” Elizabeth interrupted with a raised brow and harsh glance to her husband. “Your physician, Mr. Darcy, has ordered you not to ride as of yet.”

“Pardon me, Lizzy,” Bingley spoke quickly, “Poor choice of words. We shall take a phaeton and,” hastily finishing at the look on her face, “I shall drive.”

Jane smiled at her sister's concern. “How well do you know this Mr. Greystone, Mr. Darcy?”

“Somewhat. My father was more familiar as they were close in age. Tragically, Mr. Greystone never sired any children and his wife passed last year. I heard he plans to dwell with a sister who lives near London once he sells the estate. It is a lovely piece of property, Jane. I do believe you will find it more than adequate.”

Lizzy clasped her hand in excitement. “Then, Jane dearest, you shall be nearby. I can reach you in my new curricle in no time at all!” She grinned up at Darcy.

“How is your injury mending, Mr. Darcy? It must be extremely disturbing to not be able to ride your horse. I know how very much you enjoy the activity,” Caroline asked with a familiar smile.

“Nearly one hundred percent. I rather believe my personal physician is being overly cautious.” He patted Elizabeth's shoulder and smiled into her eyes. “Nonetheless, I promised to obey the professionals, including my nurse. I have the remainder of my life to ride my horse, although it is undoubtedly sensible to avoid Parsifal just yet. He will not understand.”

After dinner entertainment was blessedly brief, all individuals in varying states of weariness due to the long trip. Darcy and Lizzy entered their sitting room hand in hand and eager to be alone. The servants diligently managed to unpack the luggage and properly distribute most of the packages. However, they had been flummoxed as to what to do with the contents of the massive trunk which sat forlornly in the middle of the floor. Lizzy laughed, kneeling on the carpet to open the crammed trunk. Within were the presents that George Darcy had brought from India and further abroad.

Darcy sat on the chaise and began removing his boots while Lizzy rummaged inside. Mostly he had brought a stunning array of fabrics of a quality and color nearly impossible to find in England.

“Indian women,” George had said, “are a bold people. The peasants even wear bright colors, but the wealthier wear elaborate weaves of silk.” As he spoke he pulled yards upon yards of vibrantly patterned cottons and silks from the trunk, tossing them randomly at Lizzy and the girls. Then he proceeded to use a grinning and compliant Dr. Penaflor to demonstrate the numerous methods of draping a sari. Raul had posed and pranced while they all dissolved into hysterics.

Lizzy retrieved a particularly colorful silk, and with a flutter of her lashes toward her smiling spouse, draped it over her head. Apparently George had accumulated the odd assortment of gifts over a long period of time, some purchased and others given as payment for medical services. The trunk held a collection of exotic spices and teas; jewelry in an endless array of styles for fingers, toes, upper and lower arms, necks, ears and more in designs simple and intricate made from gold, silver, glass, ivory and copper; incense; engraved glassware; pottery; musky perfumes; hand-woven carpets and wall hangings; an exquisitely crafted silver tea set engraved with roaring tigers; pictures of Indian peoples and scenes both painted or created with tiny pieces of wood or glass or beads; and for Darcy, an English saddle constructed of camel skin with a superbly carved pattern of racing horses over sand dunes.

“We could redecorate an entire chamber as an Indian harem or some such. Perhaps one of the bedchambers, then we could charge for travelers to stay in Pemberley's exotic Far East Chamber of Passion!”

Darcy laughed, tossing his stockings toward the pile of shoes and wiggling toes as he stretched long legs. “Precisely the reputation I have been seeking. Excellent suggestion, Mistress Darcy.”

Lizzy crawled on all fours over to the chaise, gaudy silk trailing over her back onto the floor in her wake. Spreading his legs, she rose to her knees and began untying the knots of his cravat. “Do you know what sounds delightful, my love?”

“I think I can hazard a guess,” he murmured from the top of her head.

Lizzy smiled up at him. “A walk in the moonlight in our favorite garden. Remove your coats and I shall return in a moment.” After a quick kiss she left, but did return within a few minutes with her hair loose and petticoat, stockings, and shoes discarded.

Barefooted and holding hands, they ducked behind a hanging tapestry several feet down the hall from their sitting room door, behind which was a servant's staircase. This hidden door and staircase was one of many throughout the manor that allowed the servants to ascend and descend unobtrusively and speedily from the kitchen and other basement chambers without disturbing the residents. Darcy had revealed this little fact of life causing his wife surprise a month or so after her arrival to Pemberley, when she had innocently commented on how she never saw the servants in the hallways, and how the footmen, especially, seemed to disappear as if by magic. To her amazed curiosity, this apparently was a typical design of large manors, and so common a fact that Darcy was stunned she had no knowledge of it.

This particular stairway led to the basement, naturally, but also to a small side door on the ground level that opened onto a private garden on the east side of the house. Darcy frequently utilized this route not only for the evening moonlit strolls, which for years have been a habitual relaxing pre-bedtime activity, but also as a way to sneak into or out of his study and thus the lower level rooms without encountering visitors.

One particular visitor whom Darcy had discovered an increased necessity to use the hidden stair and corridors around was Caroline Bingley. On five different occasions over the years, Miss Bingley had joined her brother, at Darcy's invitation, for a stay at Pemberley. Darcy's prior feelings toward Caroline were mixed. He had not disliked her in any great way, found her rather amusing at times in her arrogance and attempts to display her lacking intelligence, dull wits, and poor humor, and did honestly admire and appreciate her frivolous but inclusive knowledge of gossip and feminine trivialities, which did liven conversation. Of course, it had been readily apparent to him, despite his often retarded awareness of the machinations of the opposite sex, that Caroline had “set her cap” for him, as they say. Sadly for poor Miss Bingley, she was one woman he never remotely entertained the idea of courting. As time passed and her maneuvering became frantic, Darcy began to avoid her in any way possible. Naturally, this was problematical considering his close relationship with Bingley, and Darcy had attained a point of desperation in his annoyance. It was nearly brought to an eruption during his sojourn at Netherfield when he met Elizabeth.

Darcy had agreed to accompany Bingley to Hertfordshire, partially as a friend offering his business acumen, Bingley even then considering purchasing a country estate, but also as a way to avoid Caroline and her ilk in Town for a spell. He had no great desire for or interest in Hertfordshire personally, agreeing to the excursion only to please his friend. Imagine his anger when Caroline insinuated herself into the invitation, a fact he had not discovered until the very day they departed! Of course, there was nothing he could do at that point. Needless to say, between his vexation with her attitude and improperly blatant advances, growing affection and turmoil over Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and concern over his dearest friend falling in love again, the Netherfield trip was an agony on numerous levels. Darcy had never been so emotionally confused upon departing a place in his entire life.

The subsequent winter and early spring encounters with Caroline were distressing and blessedly few. Darcy was an emotional ruin and Caroline's mannerisms were no longer even mildly amusing. In a sad way, it was fortunate that Bingley's own state was a distraught one over the Jane affair, as the two men saw each other rarely in the months succeeding the autumn in Hertfordshire. Otherwise, Darcy was positive he would have exploded in a rage that likely would have severed their relationship permanently. By the time the Bingleys visited Pemberley for the summer, Darcy, grief ridden but at least restored to a state of semi-equilibrium, found that as long as he evaded Caroline as much as feasible without being shamelessly rude he managed well enough. Thus, the hidden stairway was utilized so extensively that the servants often forgot to even acknowledge their Master as he passed them by.

Caroline knew abstractedly of the existence of servant's passageways, but aside from having no intimate knowledge of Pemberley despite her bold assertions to the contrary, it also never would have occurred to her that a resident would employ them. Therefore, she could not fathom how it was that she consistently missed Mr. Darcy day after day considering her carefully arranged location at the second floor landing.

Upon Caroline's first ever stay at Pemberley, she requested the guest chamber located directly across from the top floor staircase. Mrs. Reynolds had prepared a chamber at the far end of the wing, a much larger room with a stunning view of the Peaks at sunrise and the River Derwent. The housekeeper was baffled when Miss Bingley instead requested the smaller room which faced the inner courtyard. She was not a fool, however, and it soon became obvious why Miss Bingley desired the room as she “inadvertently” accosted Mr. Darcy each morning when he descended for breakfast, and numerous other times throughout the day. Darcy was a bit sluggish on the uptake, and it actually required three visits before he figured out her manipulation and began regularly servicing the hidden passageway.

Now, Caroline was yet again residing in the first floor chamber. It was comfortable and spacious, as all Pemberley chambers were, simply not as grand as many of the others and allotted nothing in the way of a landscaped view. Caroline actually rather liked the room, having grown accustomed to it, but the irritation of being so ensconced, without the benefit of engaging Mr. Darcy in private albeit brief conversation and flirtation, was galling. Her aggravation prevented sleep so she quietly snuck down the hall to an east-facing chamber, thankfully empty, to sit on the wide window seat and gaze at the moonlight glimmering on the rippling waters of the Cascade Falls and family gardens.

With a sigh she rested her head against the cool stone, the window open with a gentle breeze blowing, and wondered for the hundredth time why she had asked Charles for an invitation. Yes, the season in London was over and anyone of any importance had escaped the oppressive heat of the city for their country abodes; nonetheless, there were always a few who remained for various reasons. Also, she had received a number of solicitations by her friends, including the sister of Sir Wallace Dandridge of Essex, a gentleman of moderate wealth and prestige who had shown a steady interest in Caroline for the past three seasons.

So, why was she here? Merely to torture herself? The truth is that Caroline could not say. For the past nearly two months she had frequently socialized with the Darcys, either in their home or the Bingley townhouse or at other venues, always avidly drawn to observing their interactions. Her stunned shock upon realizing the true nature of the love between the two had evolved into an intense curiosity vacillating between jealousy and covetousness. At times she hated Elizabeth for what she had with Mr. Darcy, yearning for it herself and persisting in a ludicrous sense of believing it stolen from her. Then she would smile internally at the happiness she witnessed on their countenances, especially the perpetually somber Mr. Darcy, with a gladness that bespoke of affection toward him that she had not realized she possessed. The concept of her being the fount of such joy in a man was a novel and appealing idea.

As these musings rambled through her brain, Caroline's attention was caught by movement on the grounds below. Illumination in the garden was cast by the nearly full moon and infinitude of stars, bathing the scene in relative brightness. Therefore, Caroline could clearly distinguish Mr. and Mrs. Darcy as the hand-holding strollers. In shock she noted that Darcy wore only his linen shirt and breeches, casual attire she had never seen him in, and that Elizabeth apparently wore no undergarments, as the outline of her legs was visible in the moonlight through her thin dress. A faint murmur reached her ears through the cracked window, but they were far enough below for the words to have no clarity.

Darcy and Lizzy wove leisurely via the flowering bushes to the bronze statue of Hercules fighting the Nemean Lion. Lizzy stepped upon the dais, placing her at eye level with Darcy. He paused, watching as she balanced on the narrow edge and with careful concentration walked heel-to-toe around the circumference of the platform, returning to her softly applauding spouse with a graceful curtsey.

“Well done yet again, my dear. Excellent balance.”

“I must keep in practice,” she said with a laugh, “then perhaps I shall be able to accomplish the task when grossly distended with your child, Mr. Darcy.” She kissed his nose. “Show me the stars out tonight, William.”

He turned, Lizzy encircling his waist with chin resting on a shoulder as he pointed to the various constellations visible in the July skies. She loosened his shirt to enable her to massage the warm skin of his chest as he spoke. They stood in serene contemplation of the heavens, both supremely content to be home as the breeze lifted their hair and carried pleasant fragrances from the masses of blooms, clean water and air, and fresh tilled earth.

Lizzy sighed happily. “It is so wonderful to be home. The city has its charms, but nothing that compares to the raw beauty of natural landscapes and the extensive gardens of Pemberley. I do so love it here and wish we would never have to leave.”

“Not even to see the ocean?”

“What do you mean?

He turned, embracing her waist. “I was thinking that later, perhaps in September when it will yet be easy for you to travel, that we could vacation on the coast. You and I only. You have never seen the sea, beloved, and I am thrilled to be the one to aid your discovery. In addition, I would have you all to myself. Does this sound appealing?”

Lizzy was smiling broadly and bouncing on her toes in excitement. “William, it sounds wonderful! Oh, to be utterly alone with you for a time! How blissful that would be.” She met his mouth with a deep sigh. They kissed for a while, slowly and teasingly, Darcy nibbling and suckling her lips while caressing over her back and hips.

Abruptly Lizzy pulled away, grasped his hand, and positioned it squarely over their child. They beamed as the baby flipped about, gazing with love and joy into eyes mere inches apart.

“I shall never weary of feeling him move, never!” Darcy declared with awe, voice husky. “I order you, dearest, to find me if I am anywhere nearby whenever he expresses the urge to exercise.” He knelt and nuzzled his face onto her belly, kissing firmly, then rising and returning to the delight of her mouth.

He kissed her deeply, probingly and absorbingly, desire rising rapidly as it always did when they touched. Lizzy untucked the remainder of his shirt, hands roving all over his back and under the waistband of his breeches as she pressed her body tightly against his. Darcy's strong hands were everywhere, caressing and squeezing. He encompassed a plump breast while lips traveled down her neck.

Lizzy arched and moaned softly, “Fitzwilliam, I want you so. Please, take me to our room.”

Darcy smoothed the hair from her face, cupping her cheeks as he kissed with sensual intoxication. “I love you, my Elizabeth,” he murmured, “so beautiful you are in the moonlight.” In tandem he rubbed his palms over her neck to shoulders, onto both breasts for gentle fondling, downward with tender strokes as he whispered words of adoration mingled with seductive kisses. “Tonight, my beloved wife, I shall love you in our bed until you are screaming in uncontrollable ecstasy. Tomorrow we shall steal away to the copse amongst the willows and there we shall make love with the moonlight and stars shimmering over your skin. All day I shall envision you there, under my body, entwined and joined with me. Will you too imagine us there, precious love, so that your ardor will equal mine?”

“Yes,” she replied breathlessly with a nod, meeting his crystal eyes. Darcy ran one hand under her skirt to her bottom, the other tangled in her flowing hair as he teased her with the tip of his tongue softly flickering over her ear and elsewhere, returning to her mouth for further plundering.

“My love. My eternal love. How I need you,” he groaned as he circled her body, powerful arms lifting her off her feet and onto the hard planes of his chest. Darcy buried his face into the satin flesh of her neck, inhaling vigorously. “Yes, I must take you to our room immediately before I ravish you right here! God, how you arouse me Elizabeth!” He stood her onto her feet, yet holding tightly in shaking arms with forehead resting on hers as he fought for control.

Suddenly he chuckled. “If any of the servants see me on the way upstairs, I shall never have the nerve to face them.”

Lizzy laughed too, reaching down to stroke the indication of his passion, eliciting a throaty groan. “Do you honestly believe your prowess and our frequent bedroom activities are not already a topic amongst the staff?”

Darcy looked at her in surprise. “Whatever do you mean?” He started to add something ludicrous about the fine staff of Pemberley never gossiping about their Master, but her laughter halted him.

“Truly, William, at times I think you more naïve than I! Servants are simple folk and do not possess the vaunted and rigid moral proprieties of the elite. Trust me, I can recall more than a few overheard conversations between the maids at Longbourn, not to mention the field workers. Samuel and Marguerite are the only two who see the vivid evidence of our love, and I trust them implicitly, but the others are not imbeciles and can do elementary deductions.”

Darcy was actually blushing furiously, peering into the darkened windows as if he expected to see an audience of eyes staring back. Lizzy was laughing harder by the second as she took his hand and led him toward the door.

Caroline watched them move slowly toward the door, pausing several times for fresh kisses and extremely intimate caresses, finally disappearing from view. Her breath was shallow, cheeks flushed, and body trembling with strange sensations. She had distinctly seen it all and did not need to hear their words to know that she had witnessed a scene of indescribable intimacy and raging passion. Caroline Bingley, like most well-bred young ladies, was largely ignorant of the finer details of marital relations. The occasionally borderline naughty twittering among her friends, maidens all, was vague and steeped in misinformation anyway. Caroline did not have a mother or close female relative with which to discuss such things, her sister Louisa far too prudish to even consider, aside from the fact that she had never remotely been curious. Caroline was mercenary and narcissistic by nature, passion for anything other than clothing or jewels not of interest to her. Marriage was a necessity to fulfill those desires and if intimacy entered into the proposition, so be it. The idea of marital relations being pleasurable had never crossed her mind or entered her awareness.

However, there was absolutely no denying that what she had beheld in the garden were two people deeply in love and also obtaining tremendous pleasure from each other's touch. It was also astoundingly clear, and the blush to her face increased at the remembrance, that there was far more to come. Yes, she had seen it all and despite the lingering mystery of the love act, Caroline was not a total idiot and could form deductions of her own!

Quite unexpectedly, the vision of Sir Wallace Dandridge entered her mind. He was a fairly handsome man in his mid-thirties, of medium height with blonde hair and a lovely smile. Caroline had been so focused on Mr. Darcy for the past several years that she had given little thought to any other. Sir Dandridge had barely entered her consciousness, despite her friendship with his youngest sister. This season, Mr. Darcy no longer a possibility, Caroline had seriously cast about for the logical replacement, successfully working her magic on a number of eligible bachelors. Of all the hopefuls, Sir Dandridge was the most persistent, if not as wealthy as she may prefer.

Caroline smiled and closed her eyes as the image of his kind face appeared. Dreamily she conjured the fantasy of him kissing her as Mr. Darcy had kissed Elizabeth. With tingles of a strange variety fluttering through her, Caroline eventually returned to her room where dreams of a unique nature would invade.

Meanwhile, the Darcys ascended the flights of narrow stairs, halting a dozen times for breathless kisses and cuddles. Only once were they required to quickly duck behind a corner to avoid a maid heading toward the basement. Darcy covered Lizzy's mouth to prevent escaping giggles, but utilized the interruption to press into her soft body. Once safely behind the latched door of their chambers, Darcy grabbed his wife and pulled her roughly against his body for a passionate kiss. His fingers nimbly attacked the buttons to her gown as they stepped toward the bedchamber. Clothes fell randomly as they were discarded until, naked, they tumbled onto their bed in a tangle of limbs.

Laughing, they panted and kissed and groped and squeezed all while attempting to navigate to the middle of the enormous bed. Lying on their sides as they faced each other to caress and kiss, the tactile enhancement continuing for some time. Few words were uttered, even Darcy caught up in a state of rapturous delirium inducing voiceless hunger. They loved slowly then with increased intensity, Darcy mesmerized by his wife. She was so beautifully sensuous and he experienced a fresh rush of amazement that she was his and, most profoundly, that she loved him as she did. In all his years of hoping and dreaming for a marriage based on love, and as self-awareness of his sexual desires matured, he refused to allow himself to imagine that he would actually find someone who would fulfill both cravings. Astoundingly, Elizabeth was such a woman. The fact that she was his for the entirety of his life was frequently a phenomenon that quite literally staggered him.

Darcy's own excitement was nearly unbearable in its intensity, but he held himself in check, preferring to further heighten his arousal by observing the fervor and gratification of his wife. Darcy enfolded her in his arms with overwhelming joy. She was trembling and inhaling raggedly yet ceaselessly planting kisses over his shoulders and neck. Darcy smoothed her tousled hair from a perfect, dewy brow as he kissed her, murmuring soft words of adulation. She rose, eyes glazed with satisfaction as she looked at him and tenderly touched his face.

“William,” she whispered, “I could not wait. You excite me so! What you do to me is indescribable.” She closed her eyes, shuddering still. Releasing a prolonged gush of air as she nuzzled her lips over his. “My love, my own. Ask anything of me and it is yours. How can I please you, best beloved?”

Darcy smiled and laughed lowly. “Lizzy, my Lizzy, do you not yet understand that my greatest pleasure is in bringing you joy? The fact that you love me so awesomely as to attain such dynamic rapture is a joy transcending my own. Merely holding you and feeling your trembling is heaven.”

His words were truth; nonetheless, the ache of his need could not be denied. He sat up with her encased in his arms, hands all over her body. He devoted a period of time to her constantly changing breasts, far fuller and heavier than when they married as they prepared for their baby. All the changes of her maturing body—some related to pregnancy, but others a result of a natural blossoming from their intimacy—incited him. It was not at all an exaggeration or opinion based on blind adoration to note that Elizabeth Darcy was luminous and gorgeous beyond what she had been seven months ago.

Darcy loved his wife with growing enthusiasm. If the maids did discuss the Master's prowess, Lizzy thought with a smile, they would undoubtedly be astonishingly inaccurate. Lizzy rather doubted anyone could match her husband's stamina or mastery. Of course, she had no frame of reference, but anything beyond Darcy's virility would likely incapacitate a woman! In fact, there was many a time when she believed she would faint from the experience and was often left sore and raw, not that it mattered one iota or inhibited her ardor.

Together they rose, passion growing to incomprehensible levels. Finally falling over a cliff of mindless, spiritual jubilance, they merged and were transported to a place of replete fulfillment. Darcy buckled in exhausted satiation, crushing her into the mattress, but Lizzy did not mind. Their son, however, was not as forgiving and began a series of furious punches, causing Lizzy to giggle. “Dearest, your son does not appreciate all this activity,” she declared with a nudge to his inert side.

Darcy grunted, rolling lazily off his wife but drawing her close and placing a hand over the swell. “Get used to it, my son, as I do not intend to halt loving your mother.” He kissed Lizzy's ear, nestling into the bend of her neck with a sigh. “I love you, Elizabeth, with all my soul.” He kissed her yet again. “Are you still certain this is a male child? I would hate to damage her fragile mind by referring to her as ‘my son’ or ‘he’ all the time.”

Lizzy laughed. “My heart says it is a boy.” She turned and cupped his face, blue eyes piercing hers. “Our son, Fitzwilliam. I only pray he has your eyes.” She kissed each brilliant orb, then chuckled. “Of course, if he is very fortunate he will possess all your marvelous attributes and, therefore, make some woman as deliriously happy as you have made me.” Darcy blushed but smiled with mild egocentric satisfaction. “Anyway, we cannot call the baby ‘it,’ so a sex designation of some sort is apropos.” She paused, tracing each feature on his face lightly, lingering on his lips, and then resting a fingertip into the cleft on his chin, speaking dazedly. “You are majestic, Fitzwilliam Darcy. I could stare at you all day and never tire of the simple perfection and beauty of your face. I am fortunate on more levels than countable. I love you so, William!”

They embraced fiercely, silent in their mutual adoration. Contentment bathed them as sleep drifted in. Darcy released her briefly to retrieve the crumpled covers, and then gathered her near, sleeping with her body tightly woven over his all through their first night home.