Loving Mr. Darcy: Journeys Beyond Pemberley

Chapter Eight Happy Birthday, Mrs. Darcy

Now it was the day he had been, on some level, planning for ever since. May 28, 1817, marked the day that Elizabeth Darcy turned two and twenty. By a merry, inadvertent twist of fate, it also was the sixth month anniversary of her marriage to Fitzwilliam Darcy. Neither fact was lost on her husband. In all honesty, it would be a stretch to say he had been plotting birthday events for his beloved wife since she had so delightfully surprised him on his birthday in November, but he most assuredly had devoted a tremendous amount of time and effort in the hopes of this day being one of the best in her life.

Of course all days, no matter the celebrations devised, usually commence with little or no fanfare. Such was the case today. Darcy woke shortly after dawn, nothing atypical in that fact, the filtered sunrise and muted street sounds drifting through the curtained glass windows. Lizzy slept curled on her side in his arms, their fingers entwined under the pillow, thick hair cascading randomly over their tightly pressed together bodies. Darcy's free hand cupped one perfect breast, and again not atypical, he was profoundly aroused.

He shifted somewhat to relieve the mild discomfort, kissed her head, and closed his eyes. Darcy was rarely able to return to sleep, but he did adore these quiet interludes of simply embracing his wife. He lay in extreme contentment while mentally reexamining the day's plans for any possible missteps.

After six blissful months of waking with his adorable wife, Darcy had subconsciously learned the subtle signs of her rousing. The mild change in the cadence of her respirations, the tiny twitches in her muscles, the minute movements to lips and eyelids, and how she instinctively pressed harder into his body and clutched his fingers. How they lay enmeshed in their sleep varied from night to night, but always they reached for the other even further as they roused. So it was that some forty-five minutes after initially opening his eyes, he sensed her stirring. Unable to contain his need any longer, he gently commenced fondling her beautiful bosom while tenderly planting kisses along her neck.

She sighed, smiling sleepily. “Happy birthday, my beloved wife,” he whispered while kissing her ear. “Are you feeling well?”

“Hmmmm, quite well.”

“Well enough for me, my lover?” He waited no longer, beginning the familiar process of loving his wife. Not even bothering to shift positions, he joined blissfully with his wife as they lay with her luscious curves pressed tightly into his chest. Groaning hoarsely in transcendent pleasure he murmured, “Oh, my adorable wife, how I love you! Your first present for the day shall be your devoted husband bringing you pleasures abounding.”

Lizzy immediately reciprocated with a throaty groan, her free arm reaching to lace her fingers through his hair as she arched in intense yearning.

“Fitzwilliam, you feel so amazing. God, how I love you!”

He threw the blanket off, thrilling further at the sight of their bodies joined and swaying together. Burying his face into her fragrant locks, he moaned her name. Oh, to wake and make love with his wife! It was divine.

“Lizzy, I have so ached to love you this way! I have missed our mornings.”

They loved each other slowly, delighting in giving in this amazingly special way. Afterwards, they breathlessly held each other, slowly gathering shattered wits enough to caress lovingly as they recovered. Darcy rubbed her flat belly and tenderly kissed behind her ear.

“Are you well, Elizabeth? Nauseated at all?”

She turned slightly to better see his face and clasped the hand adoringly resting on her abdomen. “I feel marvelous, my love,” she declared with a smile. “Perhaps the worst is passing. The book and the physician said the middle months are the easiest. I am yet a few weeks from that point, but maybe close enough.” She kissed his chin, the only part she could readily access.

“I am relieved. I selfishly wanted you so strongly this morning that I do not think I could have held back.”

Lizzy laughed. “There is absolutely nothing selfish in how you love me, William! Although I rather do think if I had lunged to the water closet you would have had little choice but to wait.”

He chuckled. “Yes, I suppose this is true.” He smoothed the hair from her face, tenderly caressing her features, then returning to her belly. “When will we feel our baby move?”

“Some weeks yet, I am afraid. At times I imagine there are flutters, but I know it is simply my desire to feel something tangible. It is frustrating to only have negative effects.” She eyed him saucily. “I do believe you, my lover, have delighted in one aspect of my pregnancy symptoms.” He arched a brow in question and she answered by transferring his hand to her notably fuller bosom.

He flushed and she laughed. “Nonsense, Elizabeth. I love your body as it has always been.”

“Of course you do, beloved, this is abundantly obvious!” she interrupted, still giggling, “However, if I can confess to rather enjoying being lushly endowed for the first time in my life, even if it is temporary, then you might as well honestly reap the benefits!” She turned in his arms, hugging tightly and kissing him fully. “So, any hints as to what my special day holds? Or must I remain in suspense?”

Darcy smiled. “Is not the dictionary definition of ‘surprise’ to be unexpected and cause sudden wonder? If I tell you what is to transpire, then the desired consequence is nullified. However, having already embarked on the proscribed day's agenda, the first listed event having blissfully been checked off, I deem I can move on to number two.” He kissed her, taking his time, then spoke, “Stay here. I shall return momentarily.”

He disappeared into his dressing room. Lizzy stretched, honestly feeling better than she had in weeks. Just to be sure, she rang for Marguerite, who appeared within minutes, and asked for her usual tray of tea and toast. Darcy reentered the room as Marguerite was exiting, carrying a large, wrapped box.

“Are you beginning to feel unwell, Elizabeth?”

“Not at all, but I did not want to take any chances. What do you have there, Mr. Darcy?” She sat up, Darcy assisting her to a position of comfort, pillows plumped behind to recline onto.

He sat next to her, the present nearby, and took her hands. Lizzy giggled. “I sense a well-prepared birthday speech forthcoming.”

Darcy raised a brow, pretending to be offended although a small smile danced about his lips. “As you are my captive today, Mrs. Darcy, you have no option but to endure any speeches I decide to give. Considering how well my contrived speeches are delivered and received, this should not be a cause of dismay on your part.”

Lizzy laughed and Darcy's smile broadened. Neither of them needed to voice it, but there was a joy to having attained a level of peace in their relationship where they could tease about the past. Dramatically he cleared his throat, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply while Lizzy bit her lip to prevent further giggles escaping.

“Seriously, Elizabeth, as I was contemplating your day of birth, it occurred to me that there have been twenty-one previous birthdays which I have missed. Naturally, this is normal, and pondering the fact that you were reportedly a rambunctious, unruly, and undoubtedly malodorous child, I am actually grateful at not having known you for many of those years.” He grinned.

Lizzy harrumphed. “Well, there is the pot calling the kettle black!”

“That is beside the point. In truth, I do wish I could have seen you as a youth; however, I must content myself with living vicariously through your tales and the antics of our children, whom we have previously ascertained are likely doomed to be recalcitrant and rowdy. As for the here and now, today marks the day you came into this world, my beloved wife, and I am profoundly grateful for the fact. If your mother were present, I would feel obligated to bestow a heartfelt kiss of thanks… stop making faces, Elizabeth,” he teased. “I am aware that there will be a multitude of calendar days for us to celebrate as the years unfold, yet for me this particular day is extraordinary.”

He paused to caress her face. “My only true regret is that I was such a fool and spoiled the opportunity to celebrate your twenty-first birthday with you.”

“William,” she whispered, leaning forward to kiss him, “do not think on it.” A knock at the door interrupted any further displays of affection, Marguerite entering with a tray for her Mistress. Darcy requested breakfast in their sitting room in one hour and then poured a cup of tea for his wife.

“As I was saying,” he eventually resumed, “in honor of this day and all the prior birthdays I have been so unfortunate to evade, you will receive a gift for each year including one other to venerate our six months of blissful matrimony. Here is the first.” He placed the enormous box in her lap.

Elizabeth's mouth had fallen open and, for one of the few times in her life, she was speechless. Twenty-three presents! It was unfathomable, yet so utterly like Darcy. She sat stunned while he gazed at her expectantly.

Finally, he began to chuckle lowly. “After all this time I have accomplished the goal of rendering Elizabeth Darcy mute. What a day of remembrance this shall be!” He assumed a faraway expression of joyous delight until she shoved him gently with a laugh.

“You tease!” she accused. “William, you spoil me far too much, as I have stated many times before.”

He moved closer and fingered several locks of her hair where it tumbled over the pillows. “As I have stated, Mrs. Darcy, I will neither apologize for nor cease spoiling. Open it.”

Her first gift for the day was a complete ensemble: a lightweight, airy gown in pale green sprigged muslin with tiny white embroidered flower motifs scattered over the lower half of the skirt, a wide sash in darker green, short capped sleeves, and a scooped neckline with interlaced narrow green ribbon along the edge; a petticoat, also in muslin; short satin gloves with pearl buttons; a bonnet with matching pale green ribbons and soft goose down feathers; a reticule of the same fabric, with variable-colored green beads sewn in a pattern of waves; and lastly, a pair of half boots in white kid.

“Oh, William! It is lovely, all of it! Thank you!” She hugged him tightly, clearly overwhelmed.

“It is for you to wear today on our outing,” he informed her. “Also, Madame Millicent says the bodice and skirt are gathered in such a way as to expand with your changing figure, so the gown will be wearable throughout the summer. I do not honestly comprehend how that can be but trust her expertise nonetheless. I chose the fabric, as I have a penchant for you in green. I hope you approve.”

Lizzy was laughing. “You are becoming quite well versed in women's accoutrements, my love. It is wonderful, all of it.” She moved the box to the side, pulled him toward her while running one hand seductively inside his robe, and kissed him lingeringly. “I did notice that the neckline is quite daring, husband mine. Do you still wish to deny your approval of my burgeoning bust line?”

Darcy blushed slightly but traced one finger over the aforementioned bust line, deigning not to answer with words.

Breakfast was taken in the small sitting room. It was a pleasure to resume their custom of privacy in the morning, having necessarily relinquished the habit since leaving Pemberley. As Lizzy rose to retire to her dressing room, Darcy halted her. Handing her a small box hidden in his robe pocket, he stated, “You will need this, darling, to complete dressing. Marguerite will know what to do with it.”

Inside was a stunning hair comb with interwoven pearls and emeralds. Lizzy could only shake her head in amazement. “William, how will I possibly find the words to thank you appropriately for such gifts as these?” Tears glazed her eyes.

He cupped her face and brushed away her tears, kissing softly. “Your thanks are in how you love me every day, Elizabeth. Trinkets are easy for me to acquire and pale in comparison to what you have already given me in your life and love and, furthermore, are miniscule measured against the gift you nurture inside you. You and our child are priceless treasures to me and I do not have the words to convey my appreciation, so allow me to shower you with worthless baubles.” He kissed her again, and then turned her about, patting her bottom lightly. “Now, go get dressed, Mrs. Darcy. The fun is just beginning.”

The gown fit perfectly, Madame du Loire kindly writing Lizzy's measurements down for Darcy. The bodice was an unusual design of gathers and ribbons allowing for adaptation to changing size. Despite the daring cut, a particular fashion trend Lizzy was not overly comfortable with, it was a relief to wear a gown that did not squeeze her blossoming breasts so tightly. Marguerite handily grasped the design, snuggly pulling the gathers under the bosom as Lizzy's abdomen was yet flat. When all the various clothing items and accessories were in place and the hair stylishly primped with the jeweled comb brilliantly displayed, Lizzy was stupendous. She had no idea where they were going, but to her eyes, despite the plain cut of the gown, it could be to see the Prince Regent and she would feel majestic.

Darcy concurred. He was no less aristocratic in his fine clothing: a jacket of forest green, waistcoat with cream and green pinstripes, long trousers of tan nankeen, white shirt, and lacy beige cravat. He wore simple walking shoes rather than his customary boots. As much as Lizzy preferred him in blue, the honest truth is that he was marvelously handsome in any color or style of dress. Once the mutual approbation was completed, Darcy reached up and solemnly removed the earrings she wore.

“No, these are all wrong,” he declared in a serious tone. Yet another small box materialized and he opened it to reveal a pair of dainty drop earrings with one round emerald atop a perfect pearl. Adorning each lobe with an earring followed with a kiss, he then stepped back a pace, confirming authoritatively that she was “perfect.”

The girls were dressed and anxiously waiting in the parlor when Darcy and Lizzy entered. As delighted as they were to see Lizzy, wish her a happy birthday, and praise the new ensemble, their excitement was due to their own scheduled activities. Darcy had arranged for a carriage to transport them to the Gardiner townhouse where Mrs. Gardiner was awaiting them. She had been delighted at the prospect of entertaining the girls for the day and night, immediately arranging an agenda of local shopping and luncheon out.

Lizzy had been mildly surprised. Heedful of Darcy's extreme protectiveness of his sister, she was fully aware of the trust he was placing in her aunt's hands. The fact that he had instigated this separation spoke volumes of his faith in Mrs. Gardiner and moved Lizzy deeply. Of course, he was taking no chances. The sturdiest of the Darcy carriages would be their conveyance, and two of the brawniest footmen in his employ would be accompanying them everywhere they went.

Once the giggly girls were safely on their way, the Darcys settled into the landau chosen for their transportation. The soft tops were up, providing privacy and filtering any excessive sounds and odors which may disturb Lizzy. A medium-sized, wrapped box sat on the opposite bench. Lizzy pretended to be blind, waiting on her husband's pleasure.

Darcy had ordered the driver on a circuitous route to their destination for a couple of reasons. First, he wished to avoid the crowded and noisome major thoroughfares to save Lizzy any distress, but also because he wished her to sightsee the finer areas of London. He had discovered in his not-so-subtle questioning that Lizzy had only been to Town a handful of times in her life, the last being during their engagement. As sorrowful and inconceivable as this statistic was to the world traveling, part-time city-dwelling Darcy, it allotted him the serendipitous advantage of being the one to expose her to all that the city had to offer. As he had contemplated the various wonders London boasted, two stood out as the ideal inaugural attractions to share with his wife.

Within a block of the house Lizzy was hopelessly lost, so initially, she could not comprehend why the driver kept turning right then left then right again. Was Darcy trying purposely to throw her off track? It did not seem logical since he was well aware that the only portion of the vast city she could claim even meager familiarity with was Cheapside. The mystery of the numerous deviations became clear when Darcy pointed to a lovely townhouse across from a lush oasis only slightly smaller than Grosvenor.

“This is Portman Square and that is the London home of the Vernors. I believe Gerald plans to arrive next week. Is that not what Mrs. Vernor told you, love?”

“Yes, as are the Hugheses and the Lathrops. I am sure the Fitzherberts, Sitwells, and Drurys have already arrived. Needless to say, I have been remiss in informing them of our appearance.”

“There is plenty of time for that.”

After further driving, they halted before another finely appointed garden plaza. “This is Cavendish Square,” Darcy declared. “The house with pinkish stones belongs to the Lathrops. Over there you can see the side of the Sitwell townhouse. It is on Princes Street. We will pass it as we continue.”

“Is all this distance we have traveled and all these squares part of Mayfair?”

“Yes. Mayfair proper extends north to Regent Park. We will drive by the park here in a moment. Alas, it is still under construction, so there is not yet much to see. The Fitzherberts and Drurys reside in St. James's Place, as do the Matlocks if you recall, which lies in the opposite direction from where we are headed. I am certain you will have opportunities to see their homes ere our sojourn is ended. The Fitzherberts, especially, have a remarkable townhouse. Do not tell Aunt Madeline I said this or she will box my ears, but it is actually finer than Matlock House, at least from the outside. I have never been a guest there.”

He pointed out a few other houses of Derbyshire residents not as well known to Lizzy and a handful of others belonging to people she had yet to meet. Lastly, they passed the home of the Hursts, a modest townhouse of tan bricks across from Bedford Square.

At this point Darcy retrieved the wrapped package, handing it to his wife. “Yes, another one,” he teased. “I have a schedule to maintain in order to deliver them all in the course of one day.”

“William…”

“Not a word, Elizabeth! Open.”

At this point Elizabeth decided that, as three and twenty presents were apparently forthcoming regardless of how extravagant she deemed it, relishing the experience seemed only logical. With an arch smile she furthermore decided to play with her wonderful, silly little boy of a spouse in the process. With that in mind, she studied the box carefully, shook it a bit, put it against her ear, and even smelled it. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Darcy's crooked, knowing smile as he leaned back, crossing his arms as if they had all day.

With patient deliberation she peeled the ribbons and colored paper away, eventually exposing the box. Inside rested a set of four writing pens in a style she had never seen before. Rather than quills, the handles were of clear hued glass: red, blue, purple, and green. The tips were made of steel.

Darcy leaned forward, eager as a child with a new toy. “These are very new, Elizabeth. Mark my words, some day quills will be obsolete. The steel tips can be cleaned of dried ink, last nearly forever, and write with varying scripts depending on the size. Truly amazing. I have used them a time or two. My solicitor refuses to use a quill. Anyway, these are yours, and I have purchased a set for myself with carved wooden handles. It may take some adjusting to, and if you do not like them, that is fine.”

“William, these are fantastic. I have read of the newer steel dip pens but had no idea they were so lovely. Thank you! I look forward to using them.” She kissed him with genuine enthusiasm and thanks. With a grin she tilted her head. “I think I now understand why all the presents, my love. Imagine all the kisses you will be receiving today by way of my expressing gratitude, in addition to the undiminished communication of my gratefulness which you will undoubtedly procure tonight in our bed.”

“Have I not confessed time and again, beloved, to being hideously selfish. Here is the proof.” With a chuckle he clutched her neck and drew her in for another kiss, which she was all too willing to give. Unconcerned with the open window, they blissfully continued until a jolt indicated the landau had stopped.

They alighted on an enormous stone and brick drive before an impressive edifice. The front and rear facades were of seventeen bays, with a slightly projecting three bay center and three bay ends. Extending from each front bay end were protracted one-story wings. The central house was of two main stories, plus basement and a prominent mansard roof with a dome over the center.

Lizzy looked to Darcy in question. “This is Montagu House, home to the British Museum, dearest. During the morning hours, the doors are only opened for private parties. Today that is us, and a few others of course, but it should not be crowded.”

Lizzy was speechless with excitement. Of all the places they could have gone, the British Museum was by far the most appreciated. Unable to voice her thankfulness, she instead squeezed his arm tightly, briefly leaning her head onto his shoulder. Darcy smiled and patted her hand, ascending the grand staircase.

They were met by an elegant, elderly gentleman whom Darcy introduced as the curator, Mr. Ellington. “All has been arranged to your specifications, Mr. Darcy. If I may,” he turned to Lizzy and bowed, saying, “I do hope your first visit to our humble museum is the highlight of your birthday, Mrs. Darcy.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ellington. I cannot express how exciting this is for me. The reputation of the British Museum is stellar and, I am certain, completely warranted.”

The three hours they rambled through the museum were unbelievable. To intimately view artifacts only read about was an experience transcending Lizzy's wildest imaginings. For Darcy it was a compounded delight to observe his wife's breathless wonder and to retrace it all, as four years had passed since he last toured. The libraries consisting of rare books, maps and charts, plays and music, and prints and drawings were vast, and they could easily have spent all day exploring the numerous collections. Room upon room housed the myriad of antiquities from the farthest reaches of the globe, spanning centuries of time, and a massive array of artifacts. There were statues, paintings, gems, minerals, coins, relics, clothing, military devices, armaments, and more. It almost became unbearable and futile to attempt assimilating it all.

Darcy worried that Lizzy would overtax herself, especially noting her apparently boundless enthusiasm to see it all. Midway through the morning he insisted they retire to the upper story, where a secluded, windowed alcove had been arranged with comfortable chairs and a table laden with refreshments. The window was open, a gentle breeze blowing, fresh fragrant flowers nearby in tall vases, and an incredible panoramic view of the spectacular gardens gracing the rearward side of Montagu House. Lizzy had resisted leaving the splendors below them, but once she beheld the assorted foods, she realized she was famished, her stomach releasing a loud growl.

Darcy, always amused at how pregnancy had turned his normally dainty and sparsely consuming wife into a ravenous gorger, merely smiled and poured the wine. For a time, Lizzy was far too intent on eating to speak, but gradually she slowed her intake rate and the words fell over each other in their haste. Darcy could not have interjected had he wished to, so effluent was she in her zeal. Not bothered in the least, he happily sat back, nibbling a bit and sipping his wine, but primarily delighting in observing her joy.

“I cannot decide which I adored the most! My father would faint away at the books and manuscripts. Oh, William, we must induce him to come here! I do not think he realizes how amazing the museum is”—she quickly paused for breath and a sip of wine—“the Rosetta Stone! So huge! I had no idea it was that large. The commentaries and sketches certainly do not motivate the proper visualization.” Another caesura for a bite of cheese and a drink was taken before she continued. “The Egyptian artifacts… astounding! The mummy and the coffin and all the jewels and statues.” She shook her head in awe. “It is nearly too much to endure.”

“We have yet to visit the Greek and Roman wings, beloved.”

“All this under one roof, albeit a large one. Yet, is not this museum relatively modest compared to the Louvre?” Darcy nodded affirmative. “Well, it boggles the mind. I do not think my heart or mind could digest more. I already feel as if I have forgotten half of what I have recently scrutinized!”

“Prepare yourself, my love. Someday we will travel to the Louvre and all of France, Italy, Spain, wherever you wish. In the mean time…” He purposefully trailed off, reaching under the draped table, and removed two more gifts, one relatively small and the other generous.

Lizzy smiled and clapped her hands, too captivated by the general enthusiasm of it all to pretend embarrassment. The small package revealed a stunning handheld folding fan of ornately carved ash, silk fabric painted with intertwined roses and lilacs, and edged with a narrow strip of lace. She fluttered it before her face, flirting over the top until Darcy dissolved in laughter.

The larger box contained a simple but sturdily constructed backgammon board of wood with polished stone pieces. “William, it is beautiful, but we have boards at Pemberley and Darcy House.”

“Not in our sitting room. This is for us to play in the evenings or whenever the mood strikes you to suffer defeat.” He grinned.

Lizzy snorted. “I do believe our last overall count was fifteen to ten in my favor, dearest husband. You have the worst luck at dice. Thankfully, you do not gamble or we may be forced to sell some of your clothing to survive.” They both laughed, Darcy unable to argue regarding his vast wardrobe—a fact Lizzy delighted in teasing him over—nor about his luck at dice.

Another delightful hour and a half was spent in the halls displaying the Greek and Roman antiquities. There was still much yet to see, but Lizzy reluctantly confessed to beginning fatigue, so they called for the landau. Lizzy reclined gratefully into the plush cushions, again affecting blindness to the two gifts sitting on the opposite seat. Darcy gathered her against his chest, telling her to rest for now. She closed her eyes, settling into a mild doze.

A strong smell of freshly sawn wood coupled with a brisk, moist breeze roused Lizzy moments before Darcy gently kissed her forehead and whispered her name. “Where are we now?” She peaked out the window to catch a glimpse of the Thames passing behind the spacious warehouses lining the avenue they currently drove on. “Are we to go swimming in the Thames?” She turned to him with a laugh.

Darcy smiled. “Hardly. Ah, here we are.” The carriage halted in front of an especially enormous building, one of several encompassing an immense courtyard. The noise of hammers, saws, and other tools Lizzy had no name for accompanied the boisterous voices with occasional cursing intermingled of a multitude of men. A sign with scrolling words declared the establishment as Tillbury's Fine Coaches. “Stay here Elizabeth,” he said, and without another word he leapt out of the landau and strode rapidly across the yard to a door designated “Office.”

Roughly ten minutes later, he emerged in the company of two men, one of whom indicated a certain building, as Darcy nodded. He crossed to the landau, leaning in to Lizzy. “Dearest, there is something you must see. I beg your indulgence. This is a working facility and the men are, well, rough. I apologize beforehand for any unpleasantness, but it is necessary. Do you trust me?”

“Do not be ridiculous, William. Naturally I trust you. I also assure you that my ears and eyes are not as delicate as all that. I did grow up in the country, you recall.” Darcy laughed, assisting her out of the landau. In the end, his fears were for naught, the men rather in awe at the presence of a lady in their midst. Work halted, and Lizzy only had to contend with stares, which undoubtedly bothered Darcy far more than she.

Entering the specified building, Elizabeth's eyes were instantly drawn to a partially completed curricle off to the right. There were dozens of light craft in various states of construction scattered about the warehouse; however, even before Darcy steered her toward the right, she knew. The curricle was beautiful, to be sure, polished to a lustrous gleam with shiny black steel wheels, the carriage's outer walls painted a deep maroon, and a folding top of thick tan leather. In spite of this, what captured Elizabeth's stunned attention was the Darcy family crest emblazoned on the side. It was the crest as her husband had redesigned it for her seal: daintily feminized with her initials entwined.

Lizzy was flabbergasted, and Darcy gazed at her with undisguised joy while one of the men launched into a detailed inventory of all the intricate parts and mechanisms. Darcy leaned to her ear, whispering, “Happy anniversary, my love. Do you like it?”

Lizzy was truly overcome. Tears filled her eyes and she buried her face into his arm, biting her lip to avoid bursting into sobs. Sudden powerful emotions rushed through her, not unlike the uncontrollable sentiments which had consumed her early in her pregnancy. That he would have her own curricle manufactured when he remained so anxious about her driving one was more than she could bear. She began to tremble, frantically looking around for a place to escape the prying eyes so she could privately fall apart. Spying an open door at the back of the warehouse, the glint of sunlight on water visible, she mumbled something about needing air and bolted.

Darcy stood rooted to the spot in shock for several heartbeats, mumbled his own vague excuse to the coachman, who continued to rattle on about springs and buckboards, and dashed after his wife. She stood by the river, hunched with hands on her knees, gulping air between sobs.

“Elizabeth, my God, what is wrong? Are you ill? What…”

Hands about her face as he peered intently, she interrupted incoherently, “William, I cannot believe… it is too much… I do not deserve… all this… the curricle… gifts and… you are too good… and I… am unworthy… the money spent… and…”

“Shhhh… Hush now, Elizabeth,” he cooed as he enfolded her into his arms, pressing her tight to his chest, “cease or you will make yourself ill. You must remember our baby.” He rubbed her back gently, swaying slightly as her tears slowly ebbed and shudders lessened. Pulling away finally, he again cupped her face, looking at her sternly but speaking softly, he said, “Listen to me, Elizabeth Darcy. I do not ever want to hear you utter the belief that you do not deserve anything I chose to give you or that it is my ‘goodness’ which compels me. First of all, you are worthy of all this and far more for reasons which would take me hours to numerate, yet that is merely one point. I am your husband. I am responsible for your happiness, security, health, wants and needs, pleasures, future, and all else. I take my job very seriously and will exhaust myself physically and financially if need be to ensure this. Do you understand?”

She nodded her head, staring raptly into his darkened, intently somber eyes. He continued, “I love you, Elizabeth, more than I have the words to convey. As a result of the depth of my love for you, I delight in surprising you, giving to you, pleasuring you, and all the rest. Yet, the honest truth is that my honor and duty would obligate me to do much the same no matter whom I married. If I had been so unfortunate as to marry Anne or, heaven forbid, Caroline, I would be purchasing gifts, caring for them, providing for them, and,” he shuddered involuntarily, “even… being intimate with them.” He closed his eyes as if to block the horrid vision and then sighed heavily before again meeting her gaze. “It would be so hollow and empty and emotionless. Can you now comprehend what an uncountable joy it is to me that it is you, precious Elizabeth, to whom I can fulfill my duties as husband? The alternatives are unspeakable. I have not divulged this, but there are times, less now but frequently during our engagement and early weeks of marriage, when I would wake in a sweat, having dreamt a nightmare of Caroline or some other creature in my bed.” He shook his head, again embracing her tightly. “Beloved, I can never shower you with jewels or gowns or trinkets or even curricles enough to thank you for sparing me that fate!”

He kissed her tenderly and thoroughly, aware of eyes peering through the windows of the warehouse, but he was indifferent. “Are you better now?” She nodded. “Good, because you are required to select the fabric you wish for the cushions; we still have several events planned, and I am hungry. Shall we, Mrs. Darcy?”

The two gifts patiently waiting in the landau yielded a Kashmir shawl large enough to completely cover her body down to her toes in a typical paisley pattern of yellow, blue, and mauve, and a ladies pocket watch. The watch was gold with an intricate scrollwork design on the case and a blue sapphire embedded in the center of the cover. The landau tops had been folded down per Lizzy's request, so Darcy's kisses of thanks were postponed, settling instead for a firm squeeze to his knee and her hands warmly linked in his.

They drove along the Thames, Darcy pointing to interesting landmarks as they appeared. Slowly they ambled along, the frequently dirty docks and warehouses along the river replaced with fine business establishments and humble residences as the Thames veered to the south, finally disappearing from view. Traffic thickened as they entered an obviously upscale district.

“This is Pall Mall Street,” Darcy explained, “and this area is St. James's Place. There is the Royal Academy of Arts, and there is Christie's Auction House. Mr. Anders, take us around the Square, please.” He pointed out several of the residences lining the massive and impressive square. “Only titled gentry live here, dearest. Continue, Mr. Anders, to the Palace, please, and then halt.” It was only a block or so down Pall Mall to a beautiful building with a well guarded, arched, and iron gated portico. “That is St. James's Palace, Elizabeth, home of the Prince Regent, as you know.”

“Have you ever been inside, William?”

He smiled. “Divers times for various fêtes. The first was with my father and Lord and Lady Matlock. I was twenty and had the great fortune to be presented to King George III. It was a highly formal affair, as they all are, and I was nearly petrified with anxiety. Imagine me at Meryton multiplied tenfold, and you may vaguely visualize my unease!” He laughed at the memory.

Lizzy was staring at her husband with fresh awe. Despite his wealth, which she was slowly learning to be comfortable with, and the incredible power he wielded at Pemberley, within society, and at his numerous business enterprises, she had never actually thought of him hobnobbing with royalty. Even the Earl of Matlock, so intimidating to her originally, was now simply his uncle. It was more than she could digest at the moment.

“How was he? The King, I mean,” she stammered.

“Gracious and formal. He was an impressive man in appearance, quite tall and broad. His illness was not as apparent then. Most in society were aware of its existence, but certainly not the general public. Of course, I spoke not at all other than the designated greeting then was ushered on. If I had a preference, I would gladly never step foot through those gates or any of the other Royal enclaves. Of course, when one receives an invitation to the palace, one accepts it.” He chuckled.

They drove on then, meandering leisurely through the promenade between St. James's Park and Green Park, Darcy again playing tour guide. His knowledge of the area astounded her. They passed through Hyde Park Corner and continued to the west, skirting the edge of Hyde Park itself.

“I planned for us to finish our day relaxing at the Park. We will have lunch by the lake, walk a bit if you feel able, open more gifts, whatever you wish, beloved.” He lightly kissed her temple.

The park was immense. Carriages were in abundance along the wide avenue, pedestrians and equestrians wandered over the paths and endless lawn, numerous picnic blankets and the occasional pavilion dotted the landscape. Every imaginable species of tree and bush and flower grew in profusion. Lizzy had heard of the wonders at Hyde and Kensington Parks, and the grandeur of Serpentine Lake, but the reality was stunning. After nearly forty minutes of winding through sights of breathtaking beauty, Mr. Anders finally halted.

They had crossed over the bridge to the north of the Lake, ambled along the edge, and alighted before a generous pavilion erected approximately twenty feet from the water's shore. The white tent was facing the lake, the front flaps tied back to form a sort of doorway and the other three sides of a netted material to allow breezes in. Solid canvas sheets on the netted sides were rolled up, but could be released for added privacy. Two footmen from Darcy House stood at the entrance, apparently having been in charge of guarding and likely arranging the structure. Darcy ordered them to return to the townhouse until evening.

Lizzy entered the pavilion, pausing in amazement. It was as if she had been instantly transported to an Arabian tent in the desert. A thick Persian style carpet covered the ground, a long divan stretched across the back, pillows of all sizes and bright shades and gaudy patterns with tassels dangling were scattered about, and a low table sat in the middle literally digging into the earth it was so encumbered with food. The only incongruous additions to the motif were the stack of traditionally wrapped gifts in the right front corner.

Darcy slipped his arms about her waist, pulling her close as he whispered, “For the remainder of the afternoon, you shall be a Princess lying imperiously on your divan, ordering your slave—a fortunate me—to fulfill your merest whim. I shall fan your beautiful face, rub your delicate feet, kiss your ruby lips, feed you from my hand, anything you desire. Except for singing. I will not sing. Even a slave must draw the line at utter humiliation.” They laughed.

“Do not worry yourself, dearest. This day has been thus far too wonderful to ruin by hearing you sing!”

“I cannot be offended at the truth. Relax, my dear, so we can eat. Speaking only for myself, I am ravenous. While I prepare a plate for you, open these. They are part of a set, so to speak.” He handed her four gifts individually wrapped but tied together. The set included five handheld tambour embroidery rings, a sewing box filled with an abundant supply of thread and needles and more, several patterns, and an exemplary pair of embroidery shears.

Lunch was delicious, the area where they picnicked secluded with a cooling breeze wafting continuously, and they were together. Lizzy reclined on the divan with Darcy sitting on the ground leaning by her side. They talked and touched, ate until they could barely move, and opened more presents.

As the hours listlessly ticked by, Lizzy unwrapped an array of wonderful surprises. One was an enormous basket of imported rare fruits consisting of peaches, pineapples, Seville oranges, bananas, avocados, and dried currants. Lizzy had never tasted a banana or an avocado, finding both strange but delicious.

“How did you find such curiosities, William?”

“I am a partner in a triune ownership of a shipping company. Have I not informed you of this?”

She shook her head. “Not that I recollect, but there is still much of your interests I am yet learning to comprehend. Frankly, I cannot fathom how you keep it all ordered.”

He laughed. “At times I do wonder the same myself. I have been blessed— or cursed, depending on the perspective—with insatiable curiosity, so I am forever enmeshing myself in new ventures. In this case, it is actually my father's fault. Anyway, we own four ships and import mostly wines and liquors and edibles, but will ship whatever pays a profit. An additional advantage is being able to acquire diverse paraphernalia from exotic locales or civilized countries at a substantially lowered cost. Therefore, if you develop a craving for bananas, dearest, I can steadily supply them.”

She smiled, leaning to kiss him. “You are a beneficial fellow to have around, Mr. Darcy.”

He shrugged. “I am a financial backer primarily. I leave the major decisions to my partners, as I am ignorant of many aspects of the enterprise. My father began the company and he did know a great deal about ships and trade. I inherited the partnership along with everything else. The profits are substantial, and as I devote little effort to it, I cannot complain.”

Her next gift consisted of two parts and thrilled Lizzy speechless, again. Nestling on a cushion of green velvet in a polished box of cherry wood sat an exquisite pair of petite opera glasses. The telescopes and handle were of silver, inlaid with mother-of-pearl with Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy etched onto the crosspiece. While Lizzy attempted to find her voice to stammer her appreciation, Darcy reached into his coat pocket and with a dramatic flourish presented two tickets to the opera, Mozart's Don Giovanni to be precise, for the following week at the Royal Theatre in Covent Gardens.

“Oh, William! How wonderful! I love the opera, and to attend with you, well, I can hardly believe my good fortune. Are they good seats?”

Darcy laughed at her delightful innocence. “Dearest, we have our own box lease. It is on the second level, midway to the right of the stage: an excellent position for both visuals and acoustics. Lord and Lady Matlock will be joining us, as will Richard, and I was also hoping the Lathrops and the Gardiners. The Vernors have their own box, three removed from ours, so perhaps they can attend that night as well. I also compiled a list of the various performances scheduled for these next weeks at the theatres in Town. Later we can peruse the list and decide which events pique your interest. You shall have numerous opportunities to employ those new glasses.”

He smiled and kissed her. “I know how greatly you enjoy the theatre.”

Lizzy said, running fingers through his hair as she spoke, “It will be a tremendous joy to share the experience with you. Also, as I do not speak Italian, you can translate.”

“I am afraid my knowledge of Italian is nearly nonexistent, love, but if we attend anything in French or German I will happily translate.” He chuckled. “Of course, I do not think it will be necessary. The story is felt in the soul through the music and emotion projected by the actors, as you know. I have watched your eyes when you have related your previous theatre attendances or discussed literature and can readily ascertain how it stirs your spirit.” He drew even closer to her face. “It is another of the myriad traits we have in common, my Lizzy, and thus why you are so utterly perfect for me.” Thereafter followed a delightful interval of tender kisses and caresses, interrupted by an unstoppable jaw-cracking yawn from Lizzy.

“Oh, darling! Forgive me!”

Darcy chuckled, stroking her lips. “No apology is necessary, my love. Our child is demanding his mother rest and regains strength. I concur. Do you think you can tolerate opening one more?”

Lizzy nodded and gave him an indulgent smile and a loving caress. The next gift was an exquisitely rendered reproduction of Pompeo Batoni's Madonna and Child in an oval frame of ethereal and ornate Rococo design with copper gilding and inlays of marbleized enamel.

Lizzy was shocked, sitting up in her surprise. “William! It is… stunning! You incredible, amazing, dear, dear man! Remember my telling you how much I adore Batoni?!”

“You saw an exhibition of his works when you visited your aunt and uncle three years ago. Yes, I remember. Did you view this painting?”

“Yes, it was there. So beautiful. The Madonna's countenance inundated with peace and the babe gently touching his mother's chin as he gazes with love. I adore the colors he uses, the softness to his artistry, and the serene joy of this moment as he captured it. It moved me at eighteen but far more so now, with our baby growing inside.” She looked into his shining eyes, hers misty.

“I thought it would adorn the nursery becomingly.”

“William, I honestly am devoid of appropriate words to thank you. I love you so very much!”

He kissed her softly, pushing her gently until she was reclining against the plump pillows. “Save the words, my lover. Rather, free your mind and devise stimulating bedroom actions that will convey the depth of your gratitude.” He grinned lasciviously, Lizzy playfully slapping his arm.

Darcy read aloud for a spell until Lizzy fell asleep. He continued to read silently for a while, then took a short walk along the lake's edge to stretch his legs. The day was growing warmer, as the afternoon progressed, his pocket watch revealing it to be after three. He stood on the shore, skipping rocks across the surface like a child, smiling with peaceful satisfaction. Aside from Lizzy's emotional upheaval, which he fully attributed to her pregnant state, coupled with a lingering reservation regarding her new station in life, it had thus far been the perfect day. Exactly as he had so carefully planned. Hopefully, the remainder of her day's activities would proceed as flawlessly.

Lizzy woke after a refreshing nap to an empty pavilion. Another two gifts sat beside her divan, but she ignored them for the present, preferring to locate her wayward spouse. She grabbed two bananas, peeling one as she ducked under the tent flap. A quick glance about divulged him to be some fifty feet away, cutting bulrushes. She smiled, chewing as she approached.

“That looks to be strenuous work. I come bearing sustenance.”

“Why thank you, kind lady.” He took the offered treat, tossing the peel into the lake. “Do you figure ducks or fish eat banana peels?”

Lizzy shrugged, tossing her peel as well. “No idea. At least it is organic. What is the purpose for the bulrushes?”

“I like them is all. They are pretty in vases and last nearly forever; however, the best part is shredding the flower into fluffy bits and watching them float on air.” He demonstrated and Lizzy laughed.

“William, you are such a child! Here, give me one.” Soon the air was inundated with swirling cottony fragments, many of them lodging in their hair to be plucked later.

Lizzy's seventeenth birthday gift was a finely woven garden basket for gathering flowers, pruning shears with cushioned handles, two pairs of leather gloves, and two protective frocks. It was a gift Lizzy truly needed, as she had nothing like it at Pemberley and had borrowed from the groundsmen when working in the gardens. The other package contained two exquisite perfume bottles. One was of Murano glass in a rainbow of swirling colors and filled with pure lavender perfume. The other was divinely enameled in a night sky with crescent moon and bright stars so finely painted they actually appeared to twinkle. The perfume within was jasmine extract.

They sat on the divan and Darcy nestled his face into her hair and breathed deeply. “I will always associate lavender with you, Elizabeth, as it is your favorite scent. However, I also love jasmine so thought perhaps you would wear it for me on occasion.”

“Darling, you could ask anything of me and I would grant it. This is a simple request to fulfill.” She stroked his cheeks, gazing intently into his sparkling blue eyes. “I love you passionately, Fitzwilliam,” she whispered. “I know you believe it inconsequential, but I am deeply moved by all you have done for me today. Each gift has been selected with incredible forethought and insight, presented in dazzling fashion, and surrounded with exciting events and places. I do hope you realize how grateful I am.” She kissed him slowly, teasing his lips in the special way she knew thrilled him.

She then continued, “Yet, it is you, beloved, whom I adore and treasure most. Just as you are spared artificial gestures for someone whom you do not love, I am spared being the recipient of meaningless, duty-bound overtures from some man I had married only for security or to protect my family. We are both so very blessed. I promise I will not forget it.” Clutching his head tightly with fingers weaved in his hair, they kissed long and hard.

“Elizabeth,” Darcy eventually moaned, “we should take a walk before I throw all caution to the wind and make love to you here on this divan!” Still, he traveled his soft lips to her lovely neck as one hand stimulated a full breast until she breathlessly stayed him.

Eyes glazed, they stared, collecting muddled wits and panting heavily. “Perhaps we can forgo the walk and return to the house?” she asked pleadingly.

He laughed huskily. “Excellent idea, my lover; however, I foolishly desired privacy here and sent the carriages away until five o’clock.”

“Well then, I daresay a vigorous walk is the necessary remedy to pent-up passionate energy. My bonnet is over there, if you would not mind?”

Arm in arm, they strolled over the gravel paths meandering through an abundance of blooms and trees. Other pedestrians were encountered occasionally, with cordial greetings exchanged, but the park was vast and the garden pathways mazelike, so generally, they were alone. Despite the aborted passion being their preferential afternoon activity, they thoroughly enjoyed their walk. Lizzy especially, being an avid walker and having curtailed the pastime lately, reveled in her nearly total lack of fatigue and illness.

They returned to the pavilion as the carriages were arriving. Darcy assisted his wife into the landau, another gift inside.

The drive home took thirty minutes. “The strange thing,” Darcy told her, “is that our townhouse is two blocks from the Grosvenor Gate entrance to the park. There is a small pond, a splendid garden, and some wooded areas at that edge of the park. Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley walk there frequently. However, we picnicked quite a distance from the Gate and the road travels in a roundabout manner, so we must veer northwest a bit before turning east for home. With this in mind, how about another present?” He grinned.

Another oddity hid inside. It was an intricately detailed picture of a landscape: mountains, tall trees, a lake, and a meadow in the foreground with horses grazing. It was not an exact replica of a Pemberley pasture, but the resemblance was evident. Painted on a thin piece of hard oak, it had been cut into a hundred small, irregular shaped pieces designed to interlock.

Lizzy had no idea what it was and required Darcy to explain. “It is called a dissected puzzle. They have been around for some time as an educational device. We have several at Pemberley, packed away with the schoolroom furniture and supplies. If I recall, they are all of England geography, the countries, the alphabet, and the like. I found this and thought it would be entertaining for us to work on together.”

“What an astounding concept,” Lizzy declared. “It will be tremendous fun. We should wait until the winter, when it is snowy and I am too enormous to move!”

Darcy smiled. “I cannot conceive of you ever being too enormous to move. I rather believe I will be hiding the ice skates and all your coats to prevent you escaping outside.”

The house was quiet when they returned. It was after six o’clock and dinner with the Matlocks was scheduled for seven-thirty, just enough time to clean and dress for dinner. Arms about each other's waist, they entered their sitting room. Lizzy was blissfully happy. Her only shadow of melancholy was that currently she wanted nothing more than to slowly undress her husband and curl up with him in their bed for the entire evening. She adored the elder Fitzwilliams, had grown very close to them both over the long winter and spring, and knew they wished to celebrate her birthday with her. She was touched, and yesterday the idea of dining with them had been a greatly anticipated event. Now, as Darcy hugged her and spoke in his resonant timbre, which always sent rivers of tingles up her spine especially if she were touching him as his voice vibrated lushly in his chest, her desire to continue their marvelous day of solitude nearly overwhelmed her.

She opened her mouth to speak, ready to say or do whatever it would take to persuade him to acquiesce to her preference, when he paused in the middle of the room. Her attention, therefore, was deviated to the table before her on which sat by far the strangest object she had ever beheld. It was of brass, approximately one foot tall, and vaguely resembled a miniature telescope.

“What in the world is it, William?”

Darcy was again giddy as a child. Lizzy was struck suddenly by how many of her gifts had been unusual or rare. She had not previously realized how enamored Darcy was with inventions and marvels. He stood over the bizarre contraption breathless and jittery with fascination.

“It is called a kaleidoscope. Look into the end, Elizabeth, and turn it here.”

She did as he instructed, jerking back in startled surprise, then looking again in amazement. “It is beautiful! How… it changes!” She gasped, “This is miraculous. How does it work?”

“You see,” he pointed, “the tube is filled with tiny beads and mirrors which reflect the colors in an unlimited medley of patterns. Is it not the most astounding contrivance? It was patented just last year and I have been endeavoring to obtain one since.”

“We must keep it in either the game room or the parlor so guests can enjoy it, do you not agree?”

“It is yours, dearest. Keep it wherever you wish.”

“This is far too marvelous to horde all to myself.” She had yet to remove her eye from it. “One could become bedazzled and never pull away,” she mumbled.

Darcy laughed. “As is happening to you. Have you forgotten our dinner engagement, Mrs. Darcy? Also, I have another gift for you, which must be given now to keep to the schedule.”

Lizzy reluctantly forced her concentration from the kaleidoscope, riveted next on the rather large box she had not noted on the fireplace hearth. She had frankly lost count of all her gifts. The amount of deliberation applied to flawlessly effectuate the day's happenings was phenomenal, and Lizzy was staggered.

The box hid a cuckoo clock. Lizzy laughed aloud and hugged Darcy in true joy. Longbourn boasted a cuckoo clock that her father had gifted to her mother when they were newly married. It was a family heirloom and all Lizzy's life the sound of the little blue bird announced the hour. It was one of those comforting homely realities which, over time, one no longer consciously recognizes… until it is gone. Lizzy had breezily mentioned a time or two that she missed the unique chime of the cuckoo. Darcy, as with everything, had remembered.

The design was typical: the wooden German chalet with snowy roof, a shepherd boy with three sheep in front, and the trap door above the dial for the blue and yellow cuckoo. The workmanship was superb, and Darcy assured her that it was authentic from the Black Forest region of Germany, not that she would have suspected less from him.

A few more kisses ensued, both reluctantly separating to prepare for dinner.

Lizzy stood before the tall mirror adjusting the snug bodice of her gown for improved comfort. Marguerite was currently retrieving her new Kashmir shawl.

“As always, Mrs. Darcy, you steal the very breath from my lungs with your beauty.”

Lizzy did not even turn about, so acclimated to Darcy's presence in her dressing room. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I daresay I am gratified that new gowns are top on my list of priorities. I shall soon have naught to wear.”

Darcy walked behind her, placing hands lightly on her hips as he whispered in her ear, “Perhaps I should forbid you purchasing new gowns, beloved, then you would be forced to remain bared. I might rather enjoy that.”

Marguerite returned at that moment, forestalling Lizzy's retort, and Darcy retreated a pace. “Here you are Mistress. The colors match perfectly with your gown. Mr. Darcy has excellent taste.” She bobbed in Darcy's direction.

“Thank you, Marguerite.” He bowed, “Are you finished, Elizabeth?”

“I believe so. You may retire, Marguerite. No need to wait up for me. Enjoy your evening.” With another curtsey, she departed. Lizzy started to turn towards her husband, but he had rapidly resumed his previous pose, now with hands about her waist and lips nibbling along her neck.

“I rather wish we could stay home,” he mumbled. “As lovely as this gown is, I do believe I would prefer you out of it.”

“You are echoing the thoughts I was entertaining earlier, my love. However, you have gone to inordinate effort for this day and I would not wish to disrupt the agenda. Hold that vision, beloved, and I will happily allow you to fulfill your fantasy when we return.” She pivoted in his arms and pressed into him. “After all, I owe you a plenitude of thanks for all you have done for me today. I have been devising plans as you suggested.”

He smiled happily, kissing tenderly in pleasure but also to distract. He reached into his pocket withdrawing the last gift and slipping it about her slender neck. She pulled away with a start, fingers moving to touch the necklace. Darcy was beaming, hands turning her back to face the mirror.

“Alas, this is the final present. Or rather the last present designated for your birthday. I make no promises to desist lavishing you, my wife.”

The necklace was dainty, as both Darcy and Lizzy preferred: a single strand of small diamonds and amber linked, the teardrop pendant of translucent amber hanging precisely at the top of her cleavage. It was elegant and flawless, obviously of superior craftsmanship. Additionally, it blended fluidly with her gold-trimmed beige gown.

“Marguerite knew about this, did she not?” Lizzy smiled at her husband's reflection as he nodded. “She suggested this gown. You are a sneak, William.” He shrugged, kissing the nape of her neck.

“Amber accents your fine, chocolate eyes, dearest. The dress accents your luscious body. I win on both counts.”

“Gifts and excessive flattery. My, my, you surely do deserve abundant expressions of my gratitude, lover.”

“I shall wait with bated breath.”

The townhouse of Lord and Lady Matlock was located in the heart of St. James's Place, just north of Piccadilly. Lizzy had dined with the Earl and his wife once during her engagement, upon the occasion of her introduction to them. This dinner would naturally be quite different, as Lizzy was now family and Darcy's uncle and aunt were very dear to her. Once they were in the carriage and on their way, Lizzy discovered her previous wish to stay home fading under the anticipated pleasure of seeing the Matlocks again. They had left Derbyshire for London shortly after Elizabeth's recovery and the duel, so Lizzy did miss them.

They were greeted by the butler, who informed them that the Earl and Countess of Matlock were awaiting them in the parlor. He led the way, Lizzy holding the arm of her husband. The butler had spoken the truth. The Fitzwilliams were in the parlor, standing in the exact middle of the room to be precise. Additionally, to Lizzy's stunned astonishment, they were surrounded by a crowd.

Georgiana stood beside them, smiling and nearly hopping in delight, with Colonel Fitzwilliam grinning behind her. Mary and Kitty stood between Edward and Violet Gardiner and Charles and Jane Bingley. Caroline Bingley stood slightly apart with a faint smile gracing her pinched features. Also present were Stephen and Amelia Lathrop, Gerald and Harriet Vernor with his parents Henry and Mary Vernor, George and Alison Fitzherbert, Rory and Julia Sitwell, Clifton and Chloe Drury, as well as Albert and Marilyn Hughes. Even Richard's older brother Jonathan and his wife Priscilla were in attendance.

Virtually in unison they wished Lizzy a happy birthday. Darcy was grinning broadly, remarkably proud for executing the final crescendo to what was undeniably a momentous day of surprises. Lizzy was immediately surrounded, Darcy retreating a safe distance to contentedly observe his wife's glowing face. The press of visitors would prevent them exchanging more than a few words all evening, Lizzy only able to express her gratitude and abounding joy via glancing eye contact.

The evening consisted of a marvelous dinner with lively conversation succeeded by segregated male and female socializing. Amelia was well into her sixth month of pregnancy, with humorous tales to share in her blunt manner. Lizzy was thrilled to be able to officially announce her own expectant state, of which most in the company was ignorant. The female squeals of delight were readily heard down the hall in the game room where the men sipped their drinks, sedately congratulating Darcy with imported cigars and claps on the back.

The cap of the night was combined entertainment reminiscent of the Darcy's Christmas concert. Guests took turns at the pianoforte, while Richard played on the cello, Lady Matlock dazzled them all on the standing harp, voices from every musical range lifted, and Darcy blushingly added his violin talents for five songs. Humor was high and the gathering was carefree; and although it was a late night, Lizzy was rather amazed at her total lack of fatigue. She frequently sensed Darcy's scrutiny and was quick to meet his questioning gaze with a glorious smile.

Neither Lizzy nor Darcy was overly tired when they returned home to Darcy House. Perhaps it was in part a result of the sustained energy from the sprightly amusement of the evening, but in large portion, it was a renewed inclination to make love to each other. The girls were ushered off to their rooms, stumbling with weariness. Without preamble, Lizzy grasped her husband's hand and lead him into their room. Once there, door securely latched, she faced him and, with hands resting lightly on his chest, she kissed him affectionately.

“Fitzwilliam, my beloved, my heart,” she purred. “All day I have been blissfully at your mercy, the recipient of your love and caring and adoration. Now, lover mine, you shall be at my mercy as I explicitly communicate my love, adoration, and thankfulness.”

Darcy was smiling with breathless anticipation as his wife slowly doffed his jacket and waistcoat, sliding hands over him lingeringly as she went. The cravat easily joined the rest over a chair back, after which she directed him to a comfortable seat. Kneeling, she divested him of his boots and stockings, gently massaging his feet and calves. Darcy was already enjoying himself, the simple touch of his wife's hands on his body enough to arouse him tremendously, yet Lizzy was far from finished.

She stroked along his thighs while positioning herself between his legs, hands traveling with sluggish slowness up his body and eventually to his neck. She leaned close, brushing his parted lips with hers, whispering, “Relax and observe.”

She rose, stepped back a pace, and began unpinning her hair. Tress by silky tress tumbled in waves over her shoulders to mid-back. Once unencumbered, she raked her fingers through the curls, shaking her head with seductive swaying causing her hair to swing wildly. Engaging his darkening eyes, she reached dainty fingers to the clasps of her gown, loosening them and peeling the fabric from her shoulders with agonizing patience. Equally as leisurely, the petticoat was untied and joined the gown in a puddle at her feet.

Darcy licked his lips, arousal evident now at the sight of his beautiful wife. She released the laces of her corset, tossing it aside, at last facing her adoring spouse in naught but her short, thin chemise, shoes, and stockings. The soft slippers stripped off with ease. Lizzy paused, standing still as the excitement of Darcy's smoldering gaze raking up and down her body sent shivers of desire racing through her. The powerful and mutual passion they incited with mere glances never ceased to astound.

Taking a step toward the chair, Lizzy lifted a leg, placing her foot on the edge precisely at Darcy's groin. He groaned, shifting against her wiggling toes. Lizzy smiled smugly, leaning over slightly—enough to expose the round top of her bosom—as she delicately and with supreme deliberation untied the ribbons to her stocking.

Darcy was mesmerized, mouth open and nearly drooling. She had never stripped for him in quite this leisurely and seductive a fashion. Both of her precious hands slipped under a silk edge, caressing her velvety skin from thigh to toe as she exposed a shapely leg and pulled the stocking away. Darcy moaned, closing his eyes in intense pleasure and impulsively reaching to caress her thigh. She batted his hand away gently, shifting the other leg to the chair and repeating the entire process.

Remaining within his knees, she finally bared herself completely, the chemise discarded as slowly as the rest, with purposeful caressing over her flesh as he avidly watched, nearly incoherent with the hunger to touch her.

Standing nude, she remained still for several heartbeats, noting his intensity and tense urgency.

“Elizabeth,” he whispered. “Lord. You are so beautiful.”

Smiling, she grasped his clenched hands, drawing him up. “Do not touch me,” she softly commanded, and he whimpered as if in true pain. She started at the top of his head, running unhurried fingers through his hair to scratch lightly along his scalp, to ears, along a chiseled jaw, and onward over each inch of him. Laggardly, tenderly, lovingly, she traveled over his flushed skin, fire trailing in her wake. The shirt was lifted and tossed as her palms and fingertips aroused him to a mania of lust. An inordinate amount of time was spent teasing his chest and abdomen, fondling and squeezing in circles over shoulders and arms to strong hands. Clasped in her own, she brought them to her mouth, devoting minutes to licking, sucking, and kissing each palm and refined finger.

Darcy was faint. His heart raced, breath in punctuated gasps, knees weak and trembling. “Lizzy, please,” he begged, his voice rasping and nearly inaudible.

“You wish to touch me, lover?”

“Yes! God, yes.”

“You wish to love me?”

Darcy groaned. “Need you ask!”

“Hmmm… I thought you a patient man with extraordinary self control, Mr. Darcy.” She teased, but her own desire for him threatened to overwhelm her own careful regulation. Releasing his hands, which he immediately twined through her hair, she attacked the buttons on his breeches.

Darcy did not comprehend how he could keep upright. He trembled with raging desire, dizzy from his rushing, feverish blood and shallow respirations. Yet the sensations she was educing were transcendent. Time had no meaning. He could no longer distinguish her individual motions and caresses, all of her exquisite ministrations melded into one delirious joy. He no longer consciously thought of reciprocating with touches of his own, too lost in furious arousal and animal feeling.

Eventually, he snapped. Grasping her shoulders painfully, he pulled her up, assaulting her mouth with a hoarse cry. Lizzy was more than ready, kissing him ferociously while literally climbing up his body in an urgent need to feel all of him. Haltingly, they stumbled entwined to the bed, never ceasing to frantically touch each other.

Wildly, they made love, weariness nonexistent in the transcendent bliss of indescribable bonding. Rapture and supreme love coursed through every particle of their bodies and souls.

Darcy rolled to the side, his wife embraced firmly within trembling but sturdy arms. They stared at each other, smiling softly as they caught their breath.

He kissed her. “Elizabeth, beloved wife. How immeasurably I love you! Making love with you is…” he closed his eyes in contemplation, “heaven.” He kissed her shoulder, stroking over her hip then cupping her abdomen. “Our baby was made in such a way. In joy, rapture, and infinite love. A part of you and a part of me, created by God through our union. Forever I shall gaze upon his or her face and know this. Forever I shall be grateful, and forever, even beyond my life on this earth, I shall love you, Elizabeth Darcy.”

Tears swam in Lizzy's eyes and she could not speak. Instead, she hugged him fiercely, letting go only long enough to crawl under the blankets. As they drifted into contented sleep, entangled and touching with her head nestled onto his shoulder, she whispered, “I shall eternally love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”