Loving Mr. Darcy: Journeys Beyond Pemberley

Chapter Twenty-Two Solitude

Within a week of the Festival, the secret wish of both Darcys was granted even beyond their wildest dreams. That is, all of their beloved friends and family members vacated the Manor to adventures of their own throughout England, and Darcy and Lizzy were completely and blissfully alone.

On the day following the Festival, an extremely lazy day for all the inhabitants of Pemberley, Charles was the only one who expressed any desire to move beyond the parlor. Everyone was in a particularly mellow mood, the party aftermath ruling with aching feet from dancing, aching heads from drink, and aching stomachs from nonstop eating. While everyone was lying about on comfortable chairs and sofas with needlepoint, books, or letters in hand, Charles spoke into the relative silence.

“Darcy, I believe we shall depart tomorrow if this is agreeable with you. Now that the decision has been made, my Jane and I are anxious to speak with the Bennets and then begin our preparations for relocating.”

Kitty and Georgiana were the only persons in the room whose faces fell in dismay. Darcy laid aside his book with an understanding nod. “Of course, Charles. I understand your eagerness and you know you have my blessing. However, if I may remind you, the Matlocks are joining us for dinner tomorrow and I was imagining that being our last engagement prior to our being parted from the delightful company of you and your lovely wife for several months. Is one additional day at Pemberley too daunting to imagine?” Darcy smiled at his friend, Bingley rapidly assuring him that one day was agreeable.

“Mr. Bingley,” Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke from his relaxing pose near the window, “if you would be willing, I believe Miss de Bourgh and I will accompany you on the road. It is always wiser to travel in groups if possible.”

“Naturally, Colonel, you are welcome. Netherfield is open as well if you or Miss de Bourgh desire a brief respite ere traveling on to Kent.”

“Well, since a caravan is forming, I shall chime in and rudely insinuate myself and Raja to the party,” George declared. His spindly, yellow and cornflower blue garbed frame stretched flat on the rug before the fireplace hearth. “I know Dr. Penaflor wants to keep an eye on his patient and I am sensing the urge to visit my sister.” He sat up, crossing his long legs. “William, I was going to ask permission to stay at Darcy House for a spell before traveling on to Devon. I should warn Estella I am heading her way, at the very least. Perhaps I will even give her more than one day's notice.” He grinned at his nephew, recalling his abrupt appearance in London.

Darcy laughed. “I rather doubt Aunt Estella's consternation would be too severe, Uncle, warning or no, but naturally you may stay at Darcy House as long as you wish, and Dr. Penaflor as well, of course.”

“You will return to Pemberley before you leave England, George?” Lizzy asked, truly concerned.

“Not weary of me yet, Elizabeth?” He smiled fondly, Lizzy emphatically shaking her head. “I am touched!” He stretched his arms above his head with a deep sigh, still gazing at his niece speculatively, “No, I think I shall stick around for a while. I am rather enjoying being decadent and useless, at least for now. Perhaps in a few months I will feel the urge to work for a change, maybe volunteer my services at the hospital in Derby, deliver a baby or two,” he said shrugging and grinning at Lizzy's blush and Darcy's arched brow. “Besides, I deem wild horses could not drag Raja away.”

Dr. Penaflor merely smiled, Anne hastily averting her eyes.

“Then it is settled,” Charles declared with a slap to his knee, “all shall ride to Netherfield, whereupon the final separation will occur. Two days hence.”

Kitty was silently crying. “Oh Lizzy, please can I stay? Please?”

“I am sorry, dear. Mama and Papa need you, too. The quiet in the house is likely driving them mad. Think of poor Papa who only has Mama to keep him company! Besides, you will all visit after the baby is born, perhaps at Christmas.” Darcy winced involuntarily at that thought, but luckily Lizzy did not notice.

With this decision made, the usual bustle of pre-departure activity ensued. The dinner party planned was a simple affair, the Darcys aware that the staff would yet be busy with restoration. They had scheduled the event a week before, knowing it would likely be the last soiree preceding the scattering of their guests. Aside from the imminent exodus of the Pemberley visitors, the Matlocks were also embarking on a month-long tour of Wales with their eldest son, Jonathon, and his wife, Priscilla. Therein came the final surprise.

“William, if I may have a moment of your time?” Lord Matlock lightly clasped his nephew's elbow, indicating the emptiness of the hall. Once alone, he continued, “I know this is rather short notice, but your aunt and I were discussing our trip and Georgiana came to mind. We would very much like to take her with us if this meets your approval?”

Darcy frowned slightly, to be replaced instantly with a smile as it abruptly occurred to him that Georgiana's absence would provide complete privacy for him and Elizabeth. Attempting to not appear the utter lovesick fool, he gruffly cleared his throat and stroked his chin as if deep in serious contemplation. Naturally, Lord Matlock was not the least bit duped, but he played along.

“I know you fret, especially after Ramsgate, but rest assured she will be well chaperoned. Mrs. Annesley can accompany her if you wish, and we will not let her out of our sight. It would be good for her to travel a bit, and she has never been to Wales. Besides, you and Elizabeth have earned some solitude. You shall have precious little once the child arrives. Consider it a belated wedding present or early baby gift to you both.”

Darcy laughed. “Very well, Uncle! The truth is, I need no persuading as it sounds delightful to be alone with my wife. Perhaps it would be wisest to postpone Georgiana's enlightenment until after Miss Kitty departs. It may be too much of a blow to her heart to see Georgie ecstatic when she is so depressed at leaving.”

Therefore, exactly seven days after the Festival, Darcy and Lizzy stood on the Pemberley entryway and waved adieu to a smiling Georgiana. It was very early in the morning, Lizzy rising far earlier than she was becoming accustomed to. Darcy was dressed for riding, in truth having assumed that his wife would not wake to kiss Georgiana goodbye, having said her farewells prior to retiring last night. Now, however, with the house essentially empty and his desirable wife still with a sleepy face and hair hastily pulled back, the thought of walking away from her side even for the thrill of a morning race was unappealing.

The carriage turned the final corner, Lizzy sighing deeply and leaning against Darcy's side with a yawn. “You know, I have all my life considered myself an early riser. Meet the dawn with a smile and all that.” She lifted her eyes to meet Darcy's brilliant ones. “Perhaps my early rising became habit out of a necessity to escape the craziness of Longbourn before it began each day! Here, with you, I find life so peaceful that I do not wish to leave the comfort of our bed and chamber. It is all your fault, you know. Your charms are magnetic, my love. I am not only a hopeless wanton but slothful as well!”

Darcy was smiling happily. “If you are anticipating an apology, I fear I shall disappoint you, beloved. I am perfectly content to wake preceding you and stare at your beauty as you sleep. Furthermore, I live for the opportunity to rouse you with kisses and caresses. As for being wanton, well, I need not address my opinion on that subject surely?”

“No, you do not. In fact,” she glanced about but they were alone, and then reached up to toy with his open collar as she continued, “if you think Parsifal would not be too terribly annoyed with me or heartbroken, perhaps I could induce you to forego your morning excursion for the time being? My wicked mind is suddenly conjuring all sorts of alternate ways for you to work up a healthy sweat.”

Darcy nodded sagely, glittering eyes belying his calm pose. “Do you think the servants would gossip overly if we sprinted up the stairs?”

Lizzy pivoted with a giggle, leading him sedately inside. “Maybe we should maintain proper decorum until the second floor landing, at the least.”

Thus began a lazy pattern that would be embraced for the next several months with few exceptions. It was akin to their first weeks at Pemberley after their marriage, only now they were incredibly bonded and all the shades of newness or discomfort were wholly dissipated. They did, in fact, laze about quite a bit. Naturally, Darcy had a fair amount of work to do, letters to write, and the occasional trip about the estate but nothing terribly time consuming or critical. Aside from his study and the informal dining room, they rarely visited any of the other rooms, and the majority of their time was spent in their chambers.

Darcy, as always, rose with the sun. There was absolutely no doubt that his immediate preference was to wake his wife and make love with the sunrise. On occasion, his hunger was such that he did just that, Lizzy responding with only mild pique before passion flared. However, Darcy was a gentleman and recognized his wife's need to sleep, so usually he kissed her gently, cautiously detaching her body from his as he slipped away. Either a ride followed or quiet paperwork of some sort at the desk in their sitting room. On occasion, he scheduled morning sessions with Mr. Keith to attend to estate affairs. Whatever the case, the bulk of the morning hours were delightfully and rewardingly lapsed in the company of his love.

Despite Lizzy's jesting, she did tend to rise fairly early compared to most women of leisure. Generally she was up and freshened, nibbling on toast or fruit to curb the worst of her stomach pangs, awaiting Darcy's return from whatever endeavor he was tending to that morning. Whether he was sitting at the desk when she rose, or entering the room to discover her placidly reclining in her chair, they greeted each other with eager enthusiasm and bright smiles. Neither desired to part for the remaining hours of the morn and rarely were they forced to.

All appearances to the contrary, they actually accomplished much in the way of real work during those morning hours. Lizzy reapplied herself to learning more of the household management as well as general estate business. As Darcy conducted the ceaseless enterprises that comprised Pemberley's wealth, Lizzy aided him and increased her awareness of the overall organization. She would forever stand in awe of the vast interests and responsibilities that Darcy managed flawlessly and easily. Never would she fully comprehend it all, especially since he was forever shifting their money into other ventures or companies. Always he sought new projects or improved ways to handle an established area. It was mind boggling to Lizzy for the most part, but over time she learned to grasp much of it.

For the present, they planned primarily for the first of Duke Grafton's brood mares, which would be arriving soon, and for their child. Since Lizzy knew basically nothing about the entire world contained within the stables, their morning talks were an enormous education. Darcy explained it all in minute detail. Lizzy, frankly, grasped less than half of what he said, but she loved how he glowed and enthused whenever he spoke of his horses, so she happily allowed him to ramble. She did a tremendous amount of head nodding and mumbled vocalizations of assent, Darcy usually pacing with coiled energy as he spoke and therefore utterly unaware of whether she was understanding or not. A fly on the wall would die of hysterics at the typical scene: Darcy marching with long treads, robe fluttering wildly about his shins, fingers flickering or running through his hair while he prattled jauntily, eyes gleaming and unfocused, while Lizzy sat with a gentle smile on her lips and an expression of intense adoration mingled with dazed incomprehension.

As pertained to their baby, they discussed a number of topics. Lizzy was to be seen by a local midwife, Mrs. Henderson, who had delivered at least half of the babies in the immediate vicinity. Darcy talked to probably every person he knew and all recommended Mrs. Henderson. Despite Uncle George's vague allusion to delivering their baby, neither felt they could depend upon his presence with complete certainty. Either way, he was currently absent, so Darcy insisted she be examined by an expert. Her pregnancy was proceeding without apparent complications, but Darcy, not surprisingly, refused to assume anything.

Mrs. Henderson was a woman in her late fifties, a mother of six and grandmother of seven. She had delivered Harriet Vernor's and Marilyn Hughes's babies as well as Georgiana Darcy seventeen years ago. She was a large, very serious woman, and Lizzy was a bit intimidated by her, but her reputation was impeccable, which was all that truly mattered.

Mrs. Henderson was greatly taken aback when Darcy accompanied Lizzy into the bedchamber. “Mr. Darcy, I plan to examine Mrs. Darcy. You should wait in the sitting room. We will rejoin you when all is complete.”

Darcy, however, was shaking his head. “Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Henderson, but I have seen it before and wish to stay with my wife.” He was blushing mildly but the penetrating Darcy stare and commanding posture was in full effect. Mrs. Henderson, for all her authority, could not muster the strength to countermand, but she was clearly distressed.

Lizzy eased the tension by softly touching her arm and saying, “I assure you, Mrs. Henderson, I want my husband with me. How about a compromise? He will stand by the window while you perform the examination, but speak freely. We have no secrets.”

The midwife's professionalism overcame her nervousness eventually. Darcy frowned at Lizzy's compromise but obeyed, standing by the far window with back to the room, keen hearing missing nothing. Mrs. Henderson was thorough. Her examination concurred with the physician's assessment that the baby would arrive in early December. This meant that Lizzy was beginning her sixth month of pregnancy. She spoke at length as to the immediate expectations as Lizzy entered her last few months. She imparted nothing that they had not already gleaned from the book or Dr. Darcy, easing both their minds. Darcy spoke frequently and bluntly from his pose in the corner, startling Mrs. Henderson initially, but by the end of the interview, she was rather used to his presence and unusual interest in the subject. This, of course, had been Darcy's plan all along.

He had thought long and hard on his uncle's statement regarding being with Lizzy when the baby was born. As shocked as he was at first, the more he ruminated, it became clear that he truthfully could not fathom not being there. He discussed it with his wife, who blanched at first, the same standard protocols and habits rising to the fore.

Darcy grinned and repeated his uncle's words to him verbatim, “I know you tend to be a stickler for the rules”—Lizzy snorted at this fallacious assertion—“but it is not a law from the Crown, after all.” Lizzy had laughed, realizing as Darcy had, that neither could she imagine him not being with her. No one alive could comfort her as he could, and no one else should see their son before him.

So, although the decision had been made, Darcy certain that nothing or no one except Lizzy herself would drag him from the birth chamber, they agreed that springing the idea on the midwife at this point in time would be unkind at the least.

Darcy had not knowingly recognized any anxieties regarding Lizzy and the baby, yet hearing the midwife confirm all was well was a tremendous relief. With each passing day, as she swelled with the baby's maturing, he floated further and further off the ground. Darcy had long since given up rationalizing his devotion and ardor for his wife, accepting it fully, so was therefore blissfully unaware of how strange he was compared to most husbands in his circumstance. If he had desired his wife prior to pregnancy, and he most assuredly had nearly every second of every day, he now became obsessed. Not only was his sexual appetite as vigorous as always, but his yearning to merely gaze upon her body, to touch their child and feel him move, to talk to the burgeoning bulge, to massage the ointment over her skin, and to plan for their infant's arrival consumed him.

Thankfully, Lizzy did not mind his devotion. It was also seriously fortunate that Mr. Keith was an excellent steward, as much of the necessary estate business fell unwittingly onto his shoulders. Darcy was frequently unfocused during their discussions or business excursions about the farms. If the issue was critical or required intense concentration, Mr. Keith knew how to phrase his words and tone his voice to crack through Darcy's haze, at which point the commanding Darcy snapped into place and assumed control, his mental faculties not the tiniest bit diminished. However, generally, Mr. Keith smiled and handled matters himself. He may not completely understand his Master's relationship with Mrs. Darcy, his own marriage being of a typical nature; however, long association with Mr. Darcy had given him great insight into the younger man's character. Although he may not have couched it in exactly the same words as the late Mrs. Darcy, he had long ago identified the passionate nature of Mr. Darcy as seen in all areas of his life but had been clarified most profoundly in the grief exhibited when he lost Elizabeth Bennet and the utter joy when he found her.

The question of a nanny was answered before either of them had asked it. Darcy returned one afternoon from an excursion to several farms with mournful news. One of his tenants, Mr. Hanford, who had managed a plot of land for over thirty-five years, was found dead in a far field having apparently been felled by an abrupt heart seizure. Lizzy was terribly distressed, having grown fond of Mr. Hanford's gracious and motherly wife during her various visitations.

The next day, Lizzy commandeered her new curricle for the first time to pay a call to Mrs. Hanford. She brought a basket hastily gathered with enough food for the entire family to subsist on for a week, a huge bouquet of flowers from the Pemberley gardens, and an envelope from Mr. Darcy. Darcy, per standard practice in these situations, paid for the burial expenses and allotted a sum to the widow adequate enough for her to survive for a couple of months until able to establish subsequent employment and residence. He was fortunate in this particular circumstance in that Mr. Hanford's eldest son already worked the farm with his father and was more than willing to assume the tenancy.

Mrs. Hanford met Lizzy on the stoop when she drove up. Alighting quickly, Lizzy approached the widow with sympathy evident. “Mrs. Hanford, I am so very sorry for your loss. Mr. Hanford was a good man, decent and kind. He will be sorely missed by all.”

Mrs. Hanford nodded, wiping at swollen red eyes. “Thank you, Mrs. Darcy. Please come inside. I have tea brewing.”

Lizzy readily joined the grieving woman for tea. Mrs. Hanford scurried about the kitchen, Lizzy sitting quietly as the older woman spoke of her husband in tones of affectionate remembrance. The Hanfords, like many of the tenant farmers, were generational, meaning that Mr. Hanford's father had managed this particular plot of land as his son would now do. Altogether the Hanfords birthed six children who lived. All were married and settled in the region except for the youngest, a daughter now seventeen, who currently aided her mother in serving the Mistress of Pemberley tea and cakes.

“What are your plans, Mrs. Hanford? Will you stay here or relocate with family elsewhere?” Lizzy asked quietly, sipping the excellently steeped tea.

Mrs. Hanford sat at the table, fidgeting with a moist, wrinkled handkerchief. “My son and his wife have asked me to continue dwelling with them.” She smiled as she said, “For a time, I suppose this arrangement will work, but they are expecting their third child soon and the house is getting crowded. We had been talking lately of asking Mr. Darcy if another house was available or could be built, as my boy Roger did not want to leave Pemberley.” She paused to dab at her eyes, voice catching as she continued, “I guess his papa passing solved that problem, at least.”

Lizzy patted her hand sympathetically, not knowing what to say. Mrs. Hanford gained control finally, looking at Lizzy with a brave smile. “Forgive my horrible manners, Mrs. Darcy. I understand you and Mr. Darcy are expecting and I have yet to congratulate. This is wonderful news, for all involved.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hanford. We are very excited and pleased.”

The widow nodded. “Babies are God's greatest gift, Mrs. Darcy. So soft and innocent. Then they grow to be the delight of their parent's heart. Naturally, those of us who depend on the Darcy family wish to see the line continue, but it is more than that. It is a tremendous blessing. I have ten grandchildren already,” she declared with pride. “Ten! I love them all so dearly and am doubly blessed to have them nearby.” Then, as if her last statement added to her grief, she hung her head and continued with a sob, “It will be hard to leave them, but I cannot intrude forever. Roger and Millie need their own home. My sister and her husband run an inn in Birmingham, so perhaps she could use my help.”

As an epiphany, the solution dawned on Lizzy. Naturally, the reality of hiring a nanny was a concept she and Darcy understood, but it simply had not yet been discussed. Lizzy planned to nurse her baby, so a wet nurse was unnecessary, and she intended to personally attend to the bulk of his other needs. However, as her new status required a certain amount of social obligations and duties, a competent nanny was indispensable. Besides, Lizzy knew little about the rearing of a baby, which was all the more reason why the flash of inspiration regarding Mrs. Hanford was brilliant.

“Mrs. Hanford,” Lizzy leaned forward saying seriously, eyes sparkling, “I have a proposition for you. I do not desire an answer forthwith, as I judge you need time to grieve and rationally decide the course best for you. However, I see that we both have a need that may best be fulfilled by the other. I will, come December, need a nanny. I want someone who has vast experience, as I have none, who loves babies, and who is faithful and respective of the Darcy family. You are such a woman, Mrs. Hanford. Of course, I would need to attain Mr. Darcy's approval, but I do not imagine he would disagree with my assessment.”

Mrs. Hanford was clearly overcome, tears rushing anew down her cheeks. Even her daughter was crying. “Oh, Mrs. Darcy! Bless my stars! I do not need time to consider. I am honored, so honored… Oh my!” She blew her nose loudly, breathless and weeping.

Lizzy laughed, standing to hug the poor woman where she sat. “Mrs. Hanford, calm yourself! Please, let us leave the offer on the table for now. I cannot promise until I speak with Mr. Darcy, and you are too overwrought, rightfully so, to render a clear decision. There, there.” The remaining time dissolving in tears of grief and joy, Lizzy finally left drained yet jubilant in spite of the sadness.

Darcy thought Mrs. Hanford a capital choice as a nanny, knowing the family to be a strong one with all the children raised to be upstanding Derbyshire citizens. He spoke with Roger Hanford, extending the formal request of the Darcys for his mother's services but clarifying that they did not want an answer, affirmative or negative, for at least two weeks in order to allow Mrs. Hanford time to mourn and meditate on her options. Secretly, they estimated it a surety and were correct in their appraisal. Mrs. Hanford waited exactly two weeks, and then wrote a formal letter of acceptance to the post of nanny to the Darcy firstborn.

Six days after the house had been emptied, Darcy woke to the joyous sensation of a cooling breeze and his wife nestled in his arms, back plastered against his chest. He had a lingering impression of a particularly vivid dream of him and Elizabeth under the copse of willows near Pemberley. They were making love as they occasionally did in the moonlight, only she was as thin as a reed, naturally beautiful with hair a mass of curls about her head, eyes luminous in the half-light, but her breasts were full and round, even more so than they were now in pregnancy. His dream-self nuzzled her bosom, delighting in her warmth in the crisp nighttime air, realizing suddenly that it was spring with fragrant buds of dandelions near his face. As he moved deliciously within her, he glanced over and noted a large basket sitting close by. It was swaying slightly, soft gurgles and mewls issuing forth. He reached one hand out and rocked the basket gently, murmuring, “Patience, my son, you can have your mother all to yourself in a few more minutes.” In the dream, Lizzy chuckled, grasping his face with a firm palm, drawing his lips to hers, and whispering before she kissed, “Perhaps more than a few minutes.”

He smiled into her hair, inhaling deeply of her fragrance as he nuzzled into her neck. “Elizabeth, my eternal love,” he whispered, Lizzy stirring slightly. He cupped both breasts with his large palms, rolling partially onto his back and pulling her with him. She sighed and stretched, pressing her bottom into his groin with a wiggle. Darcy leisurely stroked over her front side as she woke further, in no haste whatsoever, his arousal increasing sweetly as he caressed all her succulent curves. He nibbled her earlobe, kissed along her neck, and tickled with the tip of his tongue.

“I want you, my Lizzy. I need you and cannot wait. Please forgive my urgency. I dreamt of you loving me so beautifully, giving yourself gloriously to me, and I woke with desire and yearning. Oh, my love! How you arouse me! How I love you, Elizabeth, forever, my wife.”

She turned in his arms, halting his murmured professions with a hearty kiss. She pressed firmly against him and he could feel the insistent prods of their son into his abdomen. Lizzy withdrew slightly, smile radiant as she stroked his face and lips. “Fitzwilliam. My husband, my soul, you do not need to ever apologize. However, I must ask you to hold this thought,” she said as she reached to his groin, stroking with a lusty smirk. “I must visit the water closet first!” He chuckled and nodded, Lizzy bestowing a quick peck as she left the bed.

Darcy watched her walk across the room with studied devotion, eyes kept riveted to the door so as to observe her returning. He adored how she swayed so gracefully, flesh glowing in the dawn's light, and the beautiful bump of their child especially prominent when she stood. She sat beside him, Darcy instantly rising to encircle her waist, burying his face into a heavy breast.

She held his head, fingers running through his thick hair as she sighed in contentment. “You had a dream?” He nodded, moving to the other breast, taking his sweet time before addressing her inquiry.

Holding her tightly, he nuzzled up her chest to her neck while pulling her onto the bed. In between licks and kisses he responded, “We were at the willows making love and our son was in a basket with us.” He lifted to gaze into her eyes, caressing over her plump lips with one finger. “He began to wake but we both told him he would need to wait. Neither of us had any intention of halting our passion.” He smiled and Lizzy laughed with a shake of her head. “Anyway, you were transcendent in the moonlight and I was loving you with all my body and soul.”

Lizzy smiled, reaching down to caress him, Darcy groaning hoarsely as he claimed her lips in an ardent kiss. Morning loving was generally of an extremely ravenous nature, Darcy usually waking in a state of near complete excitement. Lizzy was thankful, for selfish reasons, that he did not wake her each morning as he surely wanted to; yet knowing how difficult it was for him to calm once aroused, she was surprised he was so thoughtful. She felt a bit guilty about her increased need for sleep—not that it was entirely her fault—so she readily acquiesced when he did rouse her early. Of course, loving her husband was never a chore, her own passion for him as voracious as his for her.

With equal yearning, they reached for each other, stroking and caressing until necessity demanded their merging. They kissed passionately, loving with consuming desire and unity. Lizzy withdrew from his mouth mere inches, gazing into his brilliant eyes while lightly fondling each beloved feature of his face.

“Is your dream being fulfilled?” she whispered.

“No dream ever has lived up to the reality of you, Elizabeth. The feel of you, your scent, your voice, how you hold me and touch me and kiss me… it is impossible to capture this in a dream.”

She smiled, tenderly biting his lower lip. “Yet it must be somewhat reminiscent for you to wake so aroused, my potent husband!”

“Lord, Elizabeth! I do not need to dream of you vividly… you are in my heart always. The question is not why I am so easily excited when near you but how to prevent the reaction! I cannot look at you nor think of you without desire rising.” He kissed her consumingly as he rolled her onto her back, loving continuously as he fondled her breasts.

Lizzy was mad with passion, legs roaming frantically from hip to calves and hands squeezing the taut muscles of his shoulders and back. The weight of his body crushed her deliciously and his raging heat burned her flesh divinely. “William, oh God, William! I love you so!”

He slowed, rising over her with arms extended. His face was flushed, skin gleaming with sweat, and eyes vivid with reverential love and fervent hunger. Lizzy caressed his solid chest, their gazes shifting from the other's face to their bodies. Darcy spoke, voice muted and grating, “You tease, best beloved, at being a hopeless wanton, and I am overjoyed that you are! Yet, it is I who am truly wanton. Insatiable, ravenous for you, awestruck by how you move me.” He gulped, inhaling vigorously for control, arching his neck and closing his eyes in ecstasy.

Lizzy studied his perfection, teetering on the edge in her rapture yet spellbound by the vision of his masculinity coupled with his poignant words. Eventually, he opened his eyes and resumed, “In the wildest of my imaginings, both before meeting you and since, I have never remotely evoked the actuality of touching your essence while making love to you. The pleasure I derive from your body and soul melding with mine is indescribable. I cannot… have enough… of you, my wife!”

“Fitzwilliam, hold me!” Lizzy clutched his shoulders, pulling his body onto hers, Darcy succumbing with a prolonged moan. Shouts of love burst forth as they clung with limbs nearly strangling. Gasping and shivering, Darcy assaulted her mouth, plundering deeply with throaty rumbles. Broad hands secured her head, fingers laced into her hair as he rolled onto his back, Lizzy anchored against him. She withdrew from his lips with effort, needing air, but remained a scant hairbreadth away. “William,” she whispered, brushing his jaw then chin, “I love you.” Eyes met for a second, and then with a ragged breath, she dropped her head to his shoulder.

They embraced for a long while, Darcy expecting her to fall into a sated asleep as she usually did. He, too, experienced a vague guilt at waking her so early and did attempt to control his morning lust as often as possible. Fortunately, the worst of his remorse was allayed by the fact that she easily resumed her slumber. Lying in his arms, body flushed and as pliant as dough in her satiation, he patiently and blissfully awaited the rhythmic respirations indicative of sleep. Then he would kiss her gently, disentangling himself gingerly to attend to his morning routine, invigorated and abounding with love.

Today, however, they were both too excited to sleep or embark on any other activity but being together and preparing for the day's planned excursion. Lizzy moved her head enough to see his profile, tracing one finger over his straight nose. Darcy turned toward her, avidly and adoringly looking upon her sunny visage as she commenced a delicate inspection of each perfect facial feature.

“Are you no longer sleepy, beloved?” He asked, kissing the finger resting on his lips.

“Too excited about our trip, I suppose. You know, I honestly will not be hurt if you wish to pursue some sort of manly occupation rather than trudging through fabric and ribbon stores with me. Phillips will ensure my safety and carry my burdens.”

Darcy frowned slightly. “Normally I would concur; however, I wish to be a part of all aspects of our child's needs, Elizabeth.”

Lizzy laughed, interrupting him with a kiss to the shoulder. “William, you truly are too good for this earth! You already refinished the cradle and dresser, met with the decorator offering more opinions on the subject than I deem he wanted, and now you want to pick out endless yards of muslin, yarn, and lace? Are you next going to take up knitting needles to create little sweaters and blankets?” She tickled his ribs, Darcy chuckling as he grasped her hands.

“Very well. Point taken. Not that I would be unwilling to attempt knitting if necessary; however, I do not think you would desire to garb our son in anything constructed by me! You understand I only want to help?”

“Yes, and I love you even more for your enthusiasm.” She placed her palm flat onto one of his broad hands, long fingers extending more than an inch beyond hers, entire dainty hand engulfed. “I will utilize your larger hands to spin the yarn though. Also, you can read to me in your resonant voice while I sew, thrilling me, and keeping my mind stimulated.” She played with his fingers, caressing and lacing hers between as she spoke. “Will I shock you, husband, if I confess to not being overly fond of sewing?” Darcy chuckled and shook his head. “Knitting even less. Of course, these womanly tasks I previously have balked at are for our baby, so I am motivated as never before.” She drew his fingertips to her lips, kissing and nibbling each one. “So, you see, William, your help is necessary not in picking fabrics but in preventing my insanity and boredom!”