Mr. & Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy: Two Shall Become One

Chapter Nineteen Romantic Interludes

“Here we are, beloved. That was not too awful, now was it?” Darcy asked with a smile, as he spanned his wife’s waist with strong hands and lifted her from the horse’s back. She was a wee bit shaky in the knees, so he held her securely, taking the opportunity to bestow moist kisses along her neck.

“Dearest, if your desire is for me to regain stability, kissing me will only hinder the outcome.” She laced her fingers into his hair, tugging his head away from her neck, but claiming his mouth with her own for an enjoyable minute. “Show me your grotto, my love,” she whispered huskily.

He took her hand and guided her cautiously up the slope around the backside of the Greek Temple. He had insisted she ride a horse on the long trek from Pemberley, not Parsifal thankfully, but one of the placid, curricle-pulling mares Lizzy had acquainted herself with. Her ankle twinged only slightly on occasion, but was not healed adequately to tackle the uneven grasslands, and she had discovered a heightened photosensitivity that sporadically induced minor headaches.

There remained vast areas of Pemberley’s extensive grounds that Lizzy had yet to visit. Sadly, between her extended recuperation and the endless spring rains that consumed most of April, there simply had not been the opportunity. May had ushered in the traditional lovely Derbyshire weather and the last of the clouds had been swept away. The result was a profusion of blooms, greenery, tweeting birds, butterflies, and raging rivers. The ducks had returned to the small pond, placidly paddling amongst the minnows and tadpoles.

Lizzy had regained her strength and mobility by strolling along the array of garden paths closest to the house, sometimes with Darcy but usually with Georgiana as her husband’s time was consumed by the demands of planting season and the annual cattle market in early May. There was a tremendous amount of work for him to conclude as next week they would be departing for Hertfordshire and then on to London for six weeks.

Lizzy was overjoyed at the prospect of seeing her family, especially Jane. Yet she could not deny a sense of sadness and homesickness already touching her at the notion of leaving Pemberley. Therefore, she had begged Darcy to devote a day, if possible, to acquainting her with his hidden sanctuary. He was delighted and had made all the arrangements. If riding a horse had not entered her consideration as part of the itinerary, it was worth it to be completely alone with the man she loved more than life.

The forest loomed to the rear of the temple as a seemingly impenetrable wall. Darcy unerringly skirted around the stone wall to a concealed break in the trees. The path was narrow and faint, shrouded by thick brush and overhanging branches so low that several times it was necessary to crouch. Unexpectedly, the tunnel-like path opened onto a glade carpeted in grasses and moss.

Thick trees and flowering shrubs of numerous varieties ringed the entire dell. Scattered glimpses of the pasturelands beyond could be seen through minor gaps in the leaves, but one felt utterly isolated from the outside world. A circle of the azure sky with cottony white clouds and radiant sun opened directly overhead. The pond was calm, transparent, and roughly thirty feet in diameter.

Lizzy halted at Darcy’s side, her eyes sweeping the area with increasing enchantment. She looked up at her smiling husband. “William, it is breathtaking! Considerably larger than I imagined, yet every bit as beautiful and tranquil as you described. It is no wonder you sought and found peace here.”

He led her to a level area before the pond. “I am not the first to exploit the serene influences inherent here. Darcys for untold generations have retreated to this sanctuary. It is a family secret that I now share with you, my lovely wife, and we will share with our children.” He gently rubbed her abdomen and kissed her forehead as he hugged her. “Now, relax and I will return with the blankets and pillows.” He kissed her again then left.

Lizzy sighed contentedly, breathing deeply of the clean, fragrant air. She sat on a flat rock and removed her shoes and stockings, worming bare toes into the soft grass and damp earth. Without hesitation, she unbuttoned her dress and stripped to her chemise. The cool air with lightly dappled sunshine contacted her bare skin, raising tiny bumps of tactile bliss. She stepped to the edge of the pool, testing the water with one toe and finding it surprisingly tepid.

Standing with the lukewarm fluid gently lapping about her shins, she released her hair, braiding it loosely in back. Tiny minnows swirled by her ankles, testing her toes for edibility and tickling her in the process. She wiggled her toes and teased with her fingers on the surface, frightening the little fishes momentarily, although they rapidly returned for fresh nibbles, filling her with mirth.

Darcy reentered the grove to find his wife cavorting like a child, practically naked, and belly laughing. He paused unheeded and observed her antics, filled to bursting with an overwhelming sensation of love mingled with felicity and youthful vivacity. No one in all his life, even when he was young, had evoked such a well of joy and unadulterated verve as she did. She sensed his silent presence and turned, eyes vibrant and sparkling, and smile radiant. There was not a moment in Darcy’s day, awake or asleep, when her existence in his life was not a cause of awe and thankfulness. Yet, there were those odd moments, such as now, when he nearly fainted from the rapture that washed through his body at the reality that was Elizabeth.

“Remove your boots, my love, and join me. The fish are hungry and your toes are bigger,” she teased. He did as she requested, adding his jacket to the pile. A fresh swarm of minnows attacked his feet with relish. “Is the water always so warm?” she asked, “I was surprised. We could bathe! Did you bathe here when you were young?”

“Frequently, yes. The pool is not deep so the water heats quickly. It is rocky though, so tread cautiously, beloved.”

Lizzy splashed her way along the shallows, randomly selecting stones. “Oh, look William, this one has red and green swirls! It is lovely.” He trailed her happily, taking the collection of unusual rocks for safekeeping. Once his hands were full, she drew close and firmly clasped her wet hands about this neck. He gasped and she giggled, skittering away.

“Unfair advantage!” He laughed, meeting up with her on the grassy clearing where she began busily spreading the blankets. Dropping the rocks, he pulled her onto the blankets, tickling mercilessly until she was breathless from laughter.

“Desist, I beg you! You win.” She kissed him and then opened the lunch basket packed by Mrs. Langton. “Hungry, William?”

“Yes,” he answered as he ran his hand leisurely up her leg. She turned to see him smiling sensuously with food clearly not on his mind. He kissed her knee, proceeding slowly along her inner thigh with soft kisses as he ran a hand along the other thigh, under the thin chemise, and around her bottom. She sighed happily, fingering silky hair as his head moved over her lap. He kissed her lower belly and then murmured, “Pardon your father, little one, but I must love your mother.”

Lizzy laughed. “I do not think he yet has ears to hear you with, beloved.”

Darcy kissed her pubis again. “Merely being polite, Elizabeth. Never too early to bestow proper manners.” He traveled up her abdomen with kisses and caresses, lingering to peel the chemise away from her shoulders and access her breasts. “Aahh… so beautiful! Divinely appetizing.” He nuzzled his face between, kissing languidly over her skin as she moaned in pleasure. Cautiously he licked one nipple, which hardened instantly as Lizzy inhaled sharply.

“Alright, beloved?”

Her breasts and nipples were ultra-sensitive lately, often so tender that they were painful. Other times the heightened tactility led to an increased arousal. Such was the case now, evidenced by how she tightened the grip in his hair and drew his face to her breast, arching impatiently and moaning.

With tantalizing kisses and caresses over every available inch of flesh, they removed their clothing, reveling in the intoxication of sunlight and balmy breezes wafting over their exposed skin. Both of them had dreamed of this for months: the arousing pleasure of making love in the out-of-doors, specifically in Darcy’s grotto where many of his most treasured memories began. Their imaginings did not disappoint. Their union was stupendous and fulfilling, leaving them tingling and warmed to their inner souls, blissfully melded as one entity in a consuming love.

Afterwards, Lizzy lay stretched on Darcy’s front side, arms crossed over his chest. She rested her chin on one hand, the other stroking feathering fingertips through his wispy hairs while he played with one long tress. They admired each other in serene approval. Darcy smiled and murmured a soft hmmm as he brushed her cheeks.

“What are you thinking, my love?” she asked.

“I am watching the sunlight wave over your face and it reminded me of the day I proposed, successfully, that is.” He laughed lowly. “Many aspects of that day are rather dreamlike to me, but I vividly remember how the sun illuminated your beautiful face precisely at the instant you accepted me. It was as if God Himself blessed our proclamation.”

“William, you are such a romantic and a poet! You ceaselessly astound me.” She kissed the skin over his heart. “However, for the sake of clarity I am obligated to point out that your actual proposal occurred several minutes later,” she teased, playfully pinching a nipple.

“A technicality, Mrs. Darcy. I do believe, if my memory serves, that you kissed me preceding the sun’s caress, thus assenting to my declaration of love and wish to share my life with you.”

She laughed. “We should say that you proposed three times! Each one an improvement and the kisses increasing in intensity and delight.”

“Do not remind me, beloved. I nearly forfeited my right to the title of gentleman ere we were betrothed an hour!” They both smiled in happy remembrance. He grasped her shoulders tenderly and drew her closer, kissing passionately. “My Lizzy, my lover! It is fortunate I did not comprehend the ecstasy of our love prior to marriage, or I never would have maintained my restraint for those interminable two months. As it is, I was sorely tested. My ardor for you appears to be boundless.”

He spoke the truth as decidedly evidenced when she pressed her hips against him. With reciprocated moans of pleasure they gave in to their love again. The memories of the day they at long last proclaimed their love and blissfully shared first kisses augmented their passion.

Late September, 1816

“My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.”

How do you tell a man whom you have rejected and so wounded about your emotions for him? Can they be conveyed in a kiss to the hand? In a mumbled, nonsensical reply? Perhaps to a degree. He stands before her, impossibly handsome, declaring a love and desire for a life commitment that she does not deserve, yet now accepts as what she yearns for with every heartbeat. It will take all of my life, daily and hourly saying I love you, to wholly express the depth of my sentiments, she thinks, and by some miracle he has offered her that chance again. She grabs onto it as a drowning man clutches the rope, vowing never to relinquish as he is her salvation from a lifetime of emptiness and despair.

Darcy stands stunned and anxious as she steps close, taking the offered hand and bestowing a gentle kiss and caress. No words are necessary, the gesture a declaration of caring and acceptance. He understands this although the dream-like atmosphere and months of longing despair prevent him from instantly grasping it. His hand is on fire! In fact, his whole body is aflame, jolted by waves of heat emanating from her soft lips and fingers. His soul is renewed, and he knows it is a miracle purely and completely. The beautiful face that has haunted his dreams is now lifted upward. He touches her cheek tentatively and the world ignites.

For a horrifying second he suspects she will flinch or slap him or vanish into the mist. Instead, she closes her lovely eyes and leans minutely into his hand. Nothing in all his eight-and-twenty years has prepared him for the sensation of her velvety warm skin cupped in his palm. It is the most erotic, exhilarating experience of his life! At that instant, the sun lights her glorious face, rendering her mien angelic. It is a benediction from God Himself! Only her flesh anchors him to the ground.

Relief overwhelms and, with eyes closed, they surrender to the sublime delight of a tender touch. This is love! A profound heat rushes from their connected skin to the roots of their loneliness, disintegrating forever the walls of misunderstanding.

Time halts. They are dazzled. Enchanted in the rays from Heaven.

“I love you,” she whispers.

He inhales sharply and jerks as if stuck by a pin, eyes flying open. “Say it again,” he pleads softly.

She smiles, “I love you… Fitzwilliam.”

He shuts his eyes briefly, sighing with a sibilant moan. Then he flashes the brilliant smile she has so rarely seen, eyes sparkling and the palest blue. “Elizabeth. Lovely, precious Elizabeth,” he breathes as delicate fingertips trace a line of fire across her jaw and chin, finally lingering on her lips.

She holds her breath. He must kiss me! Her mind screams, I will die if he does not and likely die when he does! She trembles as he gazes at her with heart exposed and raw emotion written on his visage.

Oh, Lord, how I long to kiss her! His well-honed discipline and reserve dangles by the thinnest thread. Years hence he will recall this struggle as one of the harshest of his life; his very soul wars with the agonizing need to crush her to his body as he kisses her thirstily against the desire to show her the honor and respectability that is her due. How he manages to control his urges will remain a mystery. With a visible shudder he withdraws a pace, clasping both her hands securely in his.

“Elizabeth,” he begins huskily, pausing to clear his throat, “Elizabeth, there is much to say, much for me to apologize for, although I do not deserve your forgiveness. I did not plan this… rendezvous, and it is not how I intended to proceed in winning your affection. I wanted to court you properly and allot you time to improve your opinion of me and maybe, if I was so blessed, to have you love me. I never entertained the notion, even after my aunt restored my hope, that you felt a fraction of what I do.”

She squeezes his fingers, smiling up into his eyes. “I do,” she murmurs with a nod.

He exhales a happy sigh and shakes his head slightly in amazement. “Elizabeth, clever phrases and spontaneous conversation are not my forte, as you can attest. Therefore, Fate has gifted me with this adventitious opportunity and, considering how atrociously I botched my well-rehearsed proposal, Fate has proven the wiser.” They both smile and laugh faintly. “Simplicity appears to be Fate’s recommendation. Therefore, on that note…”

He grips her hands tighter and, without leaving her eyes for a second, he bends onto one knee. She releases a wavering sob as tears well over. Beaming, he asks, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I love you fervently and with all that I am. Will you honor me by becoming my wife?”

“Yes! Oh, yes, you know I will!”

Then she is in his arms and it is indescribable. There is no doubt the embrace is vastly more intimate and considerably longer than propriety would dictate. They do not care. Oddly, although perhaps not, there is only a hint of sensual passion; that will come later. Currently they merely delight in the closeness of the other, the engrossing sensation of belonging and unity.

Her face presses against his hard chest as she encircles his waist. A faint voice in her head wonders how she can be so brazen and improper. How can this form of intimacy feel absolutely correct so immediately? His radiating heat, heart pounding powerfully, and sturdy arms that encompass her body and keep her upright, all combine to create a haven of love and protection that surpasses imagination.

He encircles her lissome frame with stunned amazement. She is so small! Nearly from the instant his eyes touched hers at the Meryton Assembly, Elizabeth Bennet has loomed larger than life, to his reckoning. Her vibrancy, sharp intellect, and bold presence offset her svelte physique. As if designed specifically, her head rests perfectly on his breastbone and tucks exquisitely under his chin, while his arms easily surround her, broad hands flattening on her back. With a shock, he recognizes her fragility, coupled with an overwhelming strength. He could snap her bones facilely, yet she grips him with an unbelievably strong clench.

“Elizabeth,” he whispers hoarsely, gently pushing her away from his body, “do you think your father is home? I must speak with him and I cannot wait any longer.”

She looks up at him. He wipes the tears from her cheeks, eliciting fresh waves of heat so that she laughs shakily. “Yes, he is at home.”

He offers his arm, “Come then. We should not linger here any longer.”

They walk in silence, arm in arm, and steal glances at each other. Strangely, neither feels shy or uncomfortable, simply suddenly acutely aware of the other’s presence and their unchaperoned companionship. She cannot resist focusing on his exposed neck and chest, as well as noting how the damp linen of his shirt clings to his muscles. His eyes betray him by continually resting on her braided hair, her delicate shoulder line, and the flash of an ankle when she lifts her gown.

“Do you prefer to be called ‘Fitzwilliam,’ or do you have another name?” she inquires abruptly.

“My full name is Fitzwilliam Alexander James Darcy. James was my father’s name and Alexander after an ancestor. No one has ever used either. Fitzwilliam was my mother’s maiden name. It is the surname of my uncle, the Earl of Matlock. Consequently there are quite a few ‘Fitzwilliams’ about at family gatherings.” He laughs, a sound still startling to her ears but beautiful. She mentally notes to tell him so, but he continues. “My cousins are both often addressed as Fitzwilliam. Col. Fitzwilliam is my cousin. Did you know this?”

She is genuinely surprised, “No, I did not. Nor did I realize you had an earl for an uncle. Mother will be impressed.” She laughs and he smiles.

“Richard, Col. Fitzwilliam, is two years my senior, but we grew up together and have always been friends as well as relatives. Anyway, my family all call me William. It is what I prefer, although I rather think you, dearest Elizabeth, could call me anything and I would find it delightful.”

She blushes.

“Your family is so illustrious,” she says teasingly. “Lords and ladies abounding!”

He flushes and grows somber. “Yes, well, I fear my Aunt Catherine has proven how a title does not indicate worth or an assurance of proper manners. Fortunately, you will discover my uncle and his wife quite different. They will adore you, I am certain.” He gazes at her with a bright smile, rendering her breathless. Her steps falter in her rapt adoration of his face, providing the need for him to steady her with one hand to her elbow and the other around her waist, his face then mere inches from hers.

“Are you alright, Elizabeth?” She nods, unable to speak, and neither of them moves. She has always been captivated, even in her annoyance, at how penetrating his gaze is. He has the bluest eyes, fierce as a raptor and brimming with intelligence; yet she notes that they darken somewhat when he stares at her. Previously she had erroneously decided it was disapproval and disdain. Now she understands it is enthrallment, love, and… passion? Desire?

She blushes and tears her eyes away, resuming her steps. Clearing her throat gruffly, she says, “Proper manners or otherwise, having peers of the realm as relatives will win you points with my family! Mother, especially, will likely faint dead away, so be sure you lead with that fact.” Her laugh fades when she glances to see him trailing a step behind her, his expression grave. “Mr. Dar… William? Whatever is the matter?”

He meets her eyes and smiles slightly. “I love hearing my name spoken by you, Elizabeth.”

“How providential that you do since you will be hearing it so uttered for the rest of my life!” She unthinkingly reaches a finger to the tiny furrows between his brows, rubbing lightly. “What troubles you, William?”

Catching her hand and kissing her fingers, he holds on and resumes walking. After some ten minutes of silent contemplation, he speaks, “I am well aware of the fact that I made a poor impression on the citizens of Hertfordshire, aided partially by Mr. Wickham but primarily due to my own surliness. Your father has no reason to approve of me as a suitor, wealth or family connections notwithstanding. Nor do I wish him to render his approval based on those inconsequentials. It is imperative, Elizabeth, that he knows I love you and deem your happiness of the utmost importance.”

They are now within sight of Longbourn so he halts, staring into the empty windows of the manor. She touches his chin with her fingers, drawing his gaze to hers. “William, my father is a reasonable man. Be honest, as I know you only can be, and say to him what you have said to me. He will not refuse you.”

He searches her eyes, still frowning mildly. “Does he know about Rosings?”

“No one knows about that but us.”

His brows arch in surprise, “Not even Miss Bennet?”

“No, I never told anyone. Did you?”

“Only Georgiana. She extracted the information as only she can.” He smiles fondly. “In truth, I was a bit of a wreck after Rosings, and she was worried.” He shakes his head and shrugs the unpleasant memories aside. A moment later he laughs.

“What?”

“It is humbling. I manage a vast estate and intricate affairs of business domestic and abroad without flinching, yet I am daunted by the prospect of a confrontation with a country gentleman.” He looks at her, eyes sparkling with mirth, and reaches to caress gentle fingertips over one cheek. “Of course, not one of those ventures has ever been as vital to my existence as this one.” He squares his shoulders purposefully, squeezes her hand, and turns toward the house, “Come, Miss Elizabeth, my love, destiny awaits!”

Hand in hand, they meet their fate.

“Enough, Mr. Darcy! Release me! I am famished, your child begging for food, no doubt. Not surprising if his appetite is like his father’s.”

He laughed and rolled away from her side, untangling his legs from hers. “Very well, although I believe it patently unfair to blame me for this. She could very well have her mother’s stubbornness and be demanding nourishment without further delay.”

Lizzy harrumphed, already busily removing victuals from the basket and tossing them randomly to her husband. She attacked the chicken with relish, thoroughly enjoyed the apple pie, gagged on the honeyed carrots, and flatly demanded Darcy discard the smoked salmon as far away as humanly possible. She ate quickly, honestly thinking she would perish in seconds if not fed, and then required a half hour of absolute immobility to keep it inside. Darcy stroked her forehead and encouraged her to sip some wine to settle her stomach, speaking soothingly in his resonant voice until she fell into a doze.

He watched her sleep, marveling as he always did at how lovely she was. He laid his hand gently on her still flat abdomen and wondered. The signs of pregnancy were all increasing; however, until she felt the baby quicken, they had judged it best to delay formal announcements. The doctor was scheduled to examine her the day before they departed for Netherfield, Darcy insisting the doctor approve the long trip. In addition, they were hoping he could definitively confirm her state so they could freely share their private joy. Georgiana knew, of course, and Richard, but they had promised to be silent.

Society would dictate that he pray for a boy, an heir to Pemberley. In truth, he wished for a girl. A little angel with chocolate eyes, curly chestnut hair, and a pert nose. Nonetheless, the health of the child and his wife were the principal preoccupation. Lizzy, aside from sporadic nausea and mild lethargy, seemed unaffected thus far. Her appetite, as recently evidenced, was humorously vacillating. One moment she was queasy and literally the next second she was ravenous and weak.

Mrs. Reynolds had ordered to have small trays of eatables placed in nearly every room of the manor so the Mistress could nibble whenever she felt the urge. Lizzy had not actually been ill since the day her memory was restored, so Darcy did not fret overly. Inevitably, she managed to eat enough, and the medical book assured him that all she was experiencing thus far was perfectly normal.

Thankfully, her extreme moodiness had disappeared. Mornings were not her best time; therefore, their romantic interludes had ceased for what he hoped was a temporary duration. Not that he could complain in that quarter as overall her amorousness was unaltered, if not slightly increased. He had quickly reorganized his daily schedule to coordinate with her. Now he rose while she slept, went riding, or worked in the stables or at his desk for several hours before joining her for breakfast. For the bulk of the day he attended to business throughout the estate, rarely coming home for lunch, but returning mid-afternoon to convene for tea, which generally led to a pleasurable liaison before dinner.

He smiled with supreme contentment. No, Mr. Darcy had absolutely no cause for woe regarding the physical expression of their love. He never had. As previously stated, barely had her father given them his blessing when Darcy discovered, to his mingled humiliation and gratification, the sensual response they evoked in each other. Lost in delicious reverie, he lightly ran fingertips over her belly and hips, dipping into her navel, unaware that she had roused and was observing him.

“Have you traveled off to Mars or Jupiter, beloved, or somewhere closer by?”

He started at her voice and then laughed. “I no longer have the yearning to fly to the outer reaches of the heavens, dearest. Heaven is to be found here.” He leaned over, kissed her stomach where he imagined their child rested, and then stretched out, gathering her into his arms. He kissed her forehead. “Do you feel well?”

“Yes, thank you. In fact, the remaining muffin smothered in honey is calling to me.”

“Perhaps you should rethink that. Honey on the carrots made you retch.”

“That was carrots, not a muffin, and quite some time ago. These matters change with the wind!”

He chuckled, lifting up and reaching into the basket to retrieve the desired treat. Pulling off small bites, he fed her, watching carefully for a negative response.

“What were you musing when I woke? You truly appeared a million miles away.”

“Not so far as all that. More accurately some one-hundred-fifty miles, as I was revisiting our previous reminiscence of first kisses upon the occasion of your accepting my proposal. I have always been profoundly gratefully that we stood on the only side of Longbourn without windows. I am certain your father would have withdrawn his consent at the least, if not strangled me on the spot.”

Lizzy laughed. “No fear of that, William, because he would have keeled over with a heart seizure first at the sight of his innocent daughter behaving so wantonly.”

Darcy laughed but flushed brightly, the entire episode still a cause of amusement and embarrassment for him.

Darcy waits in the courtyard and paces… and paces… and paces.

The interview with her father went well, sort of. Mr. Bennet evaded final consent, pending hearing Elizabeth’s opinion. Knowing how she feels for him, as stunning as that revelation was, he should not be anxious. Yet he is. What he had not previously comprehended was the deep love Mr. Bennet held for his second daughter. Darcy had erringly regarded Mr. Bennet as rather foolish, lazy, and uninvolved as a parent.

Yet, within minutes of entering the study, Mr. Bennet put him on the defensive and displayed a keen intellect and unswerving devotion to Elizabeth. Realizing that this actually placed them on equal footing, Darcy altered his usual aloof, commanding approach. Instead, he relinquished all pride and bared his soul to the older gentleman. Mr. Bennet listened, nodding occasionally, but displayed little emotion. Then he calmly dismissed Mr. Darcy, giving no answer, and requested to speak with Elizabeth alone.

Her smile and warm pose as she entered her father’s study did hearten him, but he could not erase the echo of Mr. Bennet’s initial claim, blurted in his surprise, that Lizzy had previously asserted her hatred of Mr. Darcy. Thinking of those words made him flinch anew and pale in terror. Air and space were essential to quiet his irregular heartbeat and frayed nerves.

So now, he paces. She is taking so long! What if Mr. Bennet says no? What if he convinces Elizabeth that Mr. Darcy is unworthy of her, which he is? What if she tells him about Rosings? What if the spell of English mist over a sun-kissed moor is now broken and she realizes she does not love him? What if she does not even like him? What if… what if… what if?

Oblivious of all but his own misery, he abruptly hears a sharp giggle and glances up to see four pairs of eyes staring at him from the house. Oh, this is too much! Blushing furiously, he keeps walking past the edge of the house to the small garden beyond. He roughly picks a bloom and sinks onto the stone bench, fidgeting until the poor flower is mutilated.

Lizzy kisses her father’s forehead, whispers a heartfelt thank you, and sprints from the room. She heads toward the parlor, logically deducing he would be there under barrage by her mother. Only imagining what horrors her family is subjecting the poor man to, she dashes in, pulling up short when her rapid scan of the room comes up empty of her betrothed.

“What have you done to him?” she blurts, all four of them pivoting toward her.

“Oh, Lizzy! How wonderful this is! Mr. Darcy! You have saved us all!” Mrs. Bennet is all atwitter, clutching her hand and gasping. Not wasting time, Lizzy glances to Jane, who smiles serenely and inclines her head toward the east garden.

Sprinting again, barely registering her mother’s continued praise of her conquest, she flies down the steps, following the recently well-trod path to the garden. She slows only when she sees him. He sits on the bench, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, playing with something in his fingers. Her heart literally skips several beats and butterflies dance in her stomach merely at the sight of him.

He looks up, lurching so rapidly to his feet that she thinks he is attempting to leap to her, but he simply stands there staring at her face. The moment stretches as her smile widens.

“It is official. I am all yours.”

The expressions crossing his countenance would be vastly humorous if she did not feel his turmoil. She laughs gaily as they swiftly reduce the gap between them, eventually standing less than a foot apart. He envelops her petite hands with a steadfast grip, face jubilant and awash with liberation. He places her enfolded hands against his throbbing heart and settles his forehead on hers, releasing a mighty sigh.

As delightful as the sensations are, she cannot prevent a giggle escaping. He pulls away a fraction and smiles at her blissful face. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Only a little. Did my frightening father scare you, Mr. Darcy?”

“He can be rather intimidating when he wishes it, Miss Elizabeth, and as he held my entire future happiness in his hands, I am not ashamed to confess being overcome with tremendous fear.”

“I shall have to tell him. I doubt my father has frightened anyone in his entire life! He will be amused.”

“How pleased I am to be a fount of amusement for the Bennet household. I believe I have also adequately supplied the daily portion of entertainment for your mother and sisters.”

She bursts out laughing. “Poor William! Mr. Darcy, who hates to be teased, has received his allotment today.”

Releasing one hand to finger the loose strands of hair away from her eyes and smiling unabashedly, he replies, “I suppose I should be chagrined, but I find that teasing does not annoy me as much as it once did. Levity appears to have entered my existence along with you, dear Elizabeth, and it heals me.”

She continues to giggle. “So, are you better now? Your heart continues to pound.”

“I judge my heart shall forever pound when near you.” His voice deepens an octave and tender fingers trace over her features, darkened eyes following. “Elizabeth,” in barely a whisper, “you are incredibly beautiful. I so love and adore you. I am the happiest of men.”

Giggles cease. She is breathless and mesmerized, captured by his eyes and the renewed thrills racing through her body at his touch. His eyes and fingertips have reached her parted lips, feathering lightly. Panting breathlessly, voice nearly inaudible, she pleads, “William.”

“Elizabeth, please, may I kiss you?”

Unable to speak, she only nods faintly. As if in a dream of exquisite beauty with gazes riveted, he lowers his head slowly while cupping her face with his strong yet tender hands. Thumbs caress her cheeks and their eyes slide shut with the gentle pressure of mouths brushing once, then again and again and again.

Are there words adequate to describe what is indescribable? Their kisses are restrained, pure, and delicate; yet the sensations educed are torrential, dynamic, and astonishing. Simultaneous shivers and sighs of pleasure escape their lips and they laugh softly, twinkling eyes meeting.

“Is it supposed to feel so… incredible?”

He smiles and shakes his head minutely. “I would not know, but I believe it should.” Without another word he claims her mouth again, kissing with gradually increasing fervor, hands traveling to her neck for soothing strokes.

Of their own volition, her hands begin tentatively exploring the muscular contours of his chest and shoulders, moving up to encircle his bare neck with fingers entwined in his hair. Her lips instinctively part and, in a rush of primal need, he deepens the kiss, moaning faintly when she responds hesitantly in kind. It is sheer ecstasy! The warmth and moisture and intimacy of this manner of kissing beyond anything either of them has ever experienced.

Leaving her luscious mouth, he plants moist kisses all about her face. He kisses the top of her head, inhaling deeply of the lavender scent in her lush hair that he began associating with her months ago. Intoxicated beyond the effect of a fine wine, he rains soft kisses along her scalp to her ear and then to the sensitive flesh behind her lobe. He moans her name, utterly lost to love and rising passion and gently drawing her earlobe between his lips while his hands caress over her arms and then to her upper back, unwittingly pulling her closer to his body. Returning to her open, receptive mouth, he ardently pours his very soul into this rapturous expression of their mutual love and craving. She matches each motion, responding to him with greater boldness that escalates rapidly to a wild abandon.

She groans loudly, unconsciously pressing her entire body tightly against his, arms over his shoulders and clutching his back and head with alarming power. Cold reality crashes over him with the awareness of his marked physical arousal, evident to them both as indicative of the strict line he has allowed himself to cross. Utterly mortified and shamed, he clasps her shoulders and frantically pulls away.

Unable to meet her eyes, agonizing at the reproach and horror he expects and deserves to see there, he hoarsely stammers, “Elizabeth… Miss Elizabeth, I beg your forgiveness! My behavior is ungentlemanly and unforgivable. Please, accept my heartfelt apology.”

She is confused and dazed with strange but pleasant currents racing through her, her heart fluttering so alarmingly that she is light-headed. Feeling bereft at the sudden abandonment of his warmth, she stutters, “I… I am so sorry… I thought you wanted to… I should not have…” Shy and insecure for the first time since encountering him that day, tears well in her eyes and she hangs her head to avoid his gaze.

For a few moments they stand there not touching, breathing heavily, and collecting their befuddled thoughts.

“What you must think of me…” she mutters.

“Can you forgive me, my love… ?” he blurts at the same instant.

“Forgive you… what?” she asks in surprise.

“Whatever do you mean, ‘think of you?’” again speaking over each other.

“I behaved so wantonly…”

“I lost control of myself…”

Halting mid-sentence, they stare at each other. Slowly she begins to smile and laugh quietly. He watches her in perplexity, flushing and then gradually lifting his lips in amusement as her laugh deepens.

“She is laughing at me again.”

“On the contrary, I am laughing at us! Mr. Darcy, let me see if I understand this: you are apologizing for enjoying kissing me, your betrothed, while I am apologizing for responding to said kisses?” He nods, flushing brighter. “Therefore, in effect, we are apologizing for being in love?”

He opens his mouth and then snaps it closed, glancing away from her enchanting face. “It does seem rather ludicrous when you state it thusly.” He looks at her, countenance serious, and clasps her hands. “Elizabeth, you surely understand that it is not merely the enjoyment of our love that concerns me, but the appropriateness of its expression before we are wed. It is shockingly improper for us to even discuss these matters, let alone experience them!”

She bites the corner of her lip and averts her gaze. “William, I appreciate your concern, although I submit that little about our relationship has been proper or appropriate, and yet here we are. You are correct, of course, in maintaining decorum until we are married, but…”

“Elizabeth, please, I…” he begins, but she interrupts with a fierce, teary stare.

“Mr. Darcy, I will not apologize for communicating openly with you! Nor will I hide my love for you. We have done far too much of both, nearly losing each other in our stupidity, misconceptions, and pride.”

He studies her eyes, grinning happily. “You are amazing, Elizabeth, and I love you ardently.” Embracing her comfortingly, he kisses her sweet lips lightly.

“Lizzy!” Jane’s voice calls from the corner of the house. “Luncheon is ready. Mr. Darcy is welcome.”

“Thank you, Jane. We will be in directly.”

Holding each other, he strokes her face and she runs her fingers over his features, smiling happily and wholly content. Another tender kiss and then he pulls away, bringing her hand to his lips. “I shall leave you now, dearest. Extend my gratitude to your mother, but I am not presentable and, frankly, my heightened emotions would render me unfit for polite company. I will return this evening.”

He takes a step to leave, but she grips his hand to halt him. In a burst of enthusiasm, she wraps her free hand around his neck, pulling him toward her as she lifts on her tiptoes, kissing him soundly. When she releases him finally, they are breathless and his eyes are smoldering afresh, having so briefly been restored to a state of calm.

“From here on, I promise to behave as I should and not tempt fate. So, remember these kisses, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and do not doubt my love for you!”

He can only nod as she propels him out of the garden. At the back door, they part with formal salutations and proper hand kisses. She watches him until he is out of sight, and then, with a giddy laugh and a twirling dance, she joins her family.

“Perhaps you should not enter the water, William. Your wound is not fully healed.”

Darcy looked down at the twin scars on his side, still reddened and puckered, but healing well despite him removing the stitches without the physician’s consent and constantly scratching at it. Lizzy was forever slapping his hands and scolding him. The laceration on his chest had mended quickly, a residual fine pale line the only evidence. His bruises had faded rapidly, although his left foot still pained him if he stepped the wrong way. She joked that they were a pair of invalids. He joked that they therefore must each nurse the other with tender loving.

“It is well sealed over and no longer pains me, well, not too terribly that is. Do not fret. Come.” Taking her hand, he led her as they cautiously waded over the rocks to the middle of the pond. At its deepest a mere four-and-a-half feet, the temperate water was blissful. Crouching down, the water rising to mid-chest, he held Lizzy in his arms as they floated leisurely about.

“Oh, this is delightful,” she sighed, lying backwards to float on top of the water. Darcy firmly clasped her waist and thrilled at the sight of her. “I have not done anything like this since I was a small girl. The lake near Longbourn was a favorite haunt on hot summer days. Sadly, when a girl reaches a certain age, it is considered unseemly to play in the water.”

“Yet you did it anyway, am I correct in assuming, Mrs. Darcy?”

She opened her eyes and grinned. “Oh, how well you know me, husband. Of course I did! My mother nearly fainted each time and insisted my father punish me, which he did not do.” She laughed. “You might remember this and reweigh any wishes for daughters resembling me, beloved. Two or more of us may prove beyond your endurance.”

“Obviously Mrs. Reynolds has been remiss in her duty to regale you with stories of my exploits as a youth, or have not my scars convinced you? My temperament may be serious, but I was reckless. Combine our attributes and, regardless of sex, I imagine we are both doomed to early gray hairs.”

She sat up in his lap, winding her wet arms around his shoulders. “I heard past-tense words in that sentence. In light of recent events, I deem not much has changed in respect to your recklessness.” She kissed him.

Grinning, he declared, “I have been properly chastised for my mischief, may I remind you, and owing to how well you administer spankings, perhaps our children will not be so intolerable after all.”

“Ha! Children, I am to understand, are not supposed to enjoy the spanking.”

“Maybe you need to practice the discipline further. I will be happy to oblige, for the sake of your increased excellence and our children’s upbringing, of course.” He nuzzled her neck, delivering tiny bites.

“Incorrigible! Perhaps we should pray for girls after all.”

“Oh yes, because you, Mrs. Darcy, are all that is sweetness and light!”

Lizzy laughed gaily, hugging her husband close and resting her head on his shoulder as he gently glided about the pond. They bounced along in silent contentment, Lizzy actually beginning to fall into a doze, while Darcy held her and softly kissed any available skin.

The afternoon continued in much the same manner. They bathed until fingers and toes were wrinkled like summer prunes, drying in the filtered sun as they strolled about the glade. Lizzy snipped flowers while Darcy educated her regarding the unique Derbyshire vegetation. Frequent they retired to the blankets for snacks and sips of wine while Darcy read to her. Mainly they talked about anything and nothing, deliriously content to be completely alone for probably the last extended length of time, considering the hectic weeks to come. As the sun sank far below the tops of the towering trees, plunging the grotto into shadow, they made love again. They nestled and lazily kissed until the sun was nearly spent, the dell dark and chilly when they finally rose and dressed.

Lizzy was hesitant to vacate the grotto. No matter how often they revisited this place, and they frequently did over the years, this interlude would be special. She halted at the edge of the trail for a last look around, moving only when Darcy lightly touched her elbow. “Come away, beloved, it is late. We will return in June and have many months to return here.” He kissed her temple and she sighed, finally turning.