The Trouble with Mr. Darcy

Chapter Sixteen Disturbing Disclosures

The Monday following Easter dawned as most did these days. That is Lizzy was woken just before the sun made its appearance by the gentle ringing of the dampened bell installed near her side of the bed, alerting of a hungry infant. Some mornings the faint chime roused Darcy as well, the drowsy father asking his wife to bring Michael to the bedchamber for light play before they all returned to sleep for another hour or two. However, most mornings were like today in that he remained asleep, oblivious to his wife’s leaving and returning.

Lizzy fed Michael, a task that took about thirty minutes before he was surfeited and once again asleep at her breast. It was difficult to leave him in these moments of tranquility, his angelic face peaceful as she rocked him. There were times when she simply could not bear to return him to his cradle, opting to stay awake and croon as they swayed together with his warm body pressed to her chest.

This morning, however, Lizzy discovered that her thoughts drifted to the vision of her handsome husband as she had glimpsed him when she cautiously arose to answer Mrs. Hanford’s summons. Therefore, she did not hesitate in laying Michael back into his cradle, sparing only a few minutes to caress and bestow another kiss to his silky forehead. She returned to bed, the glow of golden sunlight illuminating the edges of the heavy curtains and brightening the gloomy chamber. Darcy was precisely as Lizzy had left him: soundly asleep with respirations deep and regular, sprawled on his back with the lightweight coverlet pushed down to below his naval so that his muscular, hair-covered chest was exposed. One hand rested above the coverlet on his abdomen; the right extended and laying in the depression where her body had been as if his subconscious knew she was gone from his side. As always, his full lips were parted, lashes heavy on stubbled cheeks, and hair mussed. To his wife he was the embodiment of sexiness and desire.

She stretched by his naked body, one hand commencing the familiar journey across the hard planes of his chest. She pressed her breasts against the heat of his flesh and placed moist kisses over his neck and jaw. His breath’s cadence altered until it matched her accelerated pace, and his muscles instinctively responded to the tactile stimulation even if his mind was primarily unwitting.

“Fitzwilliam,” she breathed against his ear. “Wake up. I want you.”

“Lizzy.”

She smiled at his sleepy response. He never called her “Lizzy” unless utterly overcome with passion or drowsily reacting to unconscious incitements, such as now. Darcy slept deeply and was slow to gain full awareness, especially when the rousing techniques were pleasurable and smoothly integrated with his dreamy musings.

His half-sleep state did not inhibit him responding in a number of physical ways, however. He turned slightly toward her, seeking the soft, curvy body with hands reaching to cup her breasts for titillating manipulation and a leg lifting to lock around her hips and pull closer. With eyes yet closed, he nonetheless aimed true, locking his lips onto hers for a prolonged, heated kiss.

“Hmmm… Are you awake now?”

“No.”

“No matter. Stay asleep, my darling, and fly through your dreams as I love and adore you.” And with that declaration she firmly pushed him backwards until he again lay flat and commenced a thorough, provocative investigation of all available places.

Darcy smiled with satisfaction. He was awake, of course, his mind no longer fuzzy from sleep, but rather happily dazed with rising sensations as his unparalleled lover worked her magic upon his body.

He loved when she woke him this way and took control! She knew every inch of his flesh better than he, knew precisely how to touch him and play over his body until his ardor rendered him weak with desire. At these times, her passionate nature was unleashed, her abandon a special thrill that lifted his fervor tremendously.

She was so beautiful! Her figure was lithe and sensuous in the pale light with her unbound hair cascading crazily over her slender shoulders with random tresses brushing over her lush breasts. He rested one hand lightly on her hip and spread the other over her belly while observing her glory and sensing every frenzied motion.

He knew—moments before she grasped his wrist and thigh with clenches strong enough to cause bruises if he was not sturdy enough to withstand the pressure—that she was ready to succumb to the spiraling vibrations. She arched over his knees and released a cry of extreme delight with his name interwoven. Every ounce of his considerable restraint was called forth not to ride the tide with her, but his wish was to first savor her happiness. Only when she collapsed onto his chest, shivers and gasps wracking her body, did he take control.

He rolled her over and resumed a gentle rhythm of loving, whispering sweet endearments and erotic phrases. His passion reverberated through his body and transmitted into hers as she progressively reacted with rekindled desire.

It was a morning greeting of the highest order. All concerns flew away, the only care being of that moment and pleasuring each other. Senses ruled and the only sounds were of the elation they acquired in this unique interlude of joining.

The sun was well over the horizon, rays of illumination and warmth reaching above the surrounding London rooftops to touch the garden behind their bedchamber and flood through the curtain gaps. Shadows remained, but a newly dawned day was firmly established before Darcy lifted from his comfortable location nestled into his wife’s neck.

“Good morning,” he whispered, blue eyes shining with love as he brushed his knuckles over her cheekbones.

“Good morning,” she returned, her brown eyes radiating identical contentment.

“Best wake up I have had in, oh, a week or so?”

“I cannot be faulted for you typically rising before the sun, or your youngest son’s appetite.”

“I am assigning no fault, my love. How could I when nearly every night your love aids my cleansing slumber such that I am well rested and eager to rise for another day of marriage to you?” He kissed her pert nose. “Indeed, I rather prefer these surprise awakenings being a special treat. Now I shall have a smug grin on my face all day, likely receiving a wealth of taunts from Richard.”

Lizzy laughed, squeezing and pulling his lean body firmly against hers. “At least you can now tease him in return. I forgot that you were meeting with him today. What else is on your agenda?”

“Dull business all morning, I am afraid. Mr. Daniels will be coming at ten. Until then I plan to attack the mound of documents accumulated on my desk. I fear I shall see little of you or the children after breakfast.”

“You recall that we have an engagement tonight at Lord and Lady Hassert’s? Of course you do.” She chuckled at the vaguely piqued expression that crossed his brows. “Forgive me, dear. I know you would not forget. Well, then I shall probably not see you until we meet in our complementary attire and enter our carriage.”

“Is your schedule as full?”

“Not as much as yours. I have nothing planned this morning other than to play with the children. I need to recuperate from the past weeks’ excitement. Jane and Simone will be joining Georgiana and I for tea and playtime for the children. Mrs. Smyth looked to cry when I told her the news. I believe the Easter entertainments have frazzled her nerves. She so clearly adores children,” she added with a sarcastic laugh.

Darcy smiled and nodded.

“Are you dining at Estad’s?”

“Of course. It is the best in London, and fortuitously close to Angelo’s. By the way, I know I spoke of taking Alexander to the studio to observe the fencing, but I fear I cannot take him with me as I desired. I have appointments with Duke Grafton and Mr. Clemens at White’s immediately following. Thankfully, I had not revealed my plan to him so he shan’t be disappointed. I will take him on another day and fence myself instead.”

“Actually, that is fortunate. We can work together in the garden this afternoon when the sun is beyond the walls and not so scorching. I have those seedlings that Mr. Clark prepared for me yet to plant and have not had the time to do so. I want to plant them in the far garden, in the clearing between the cypress and willow trees. That is the most spacious area for the children to have plots of their own that will grow with them. Mr. Clark gave me some great pointers so I do pray the seedlings have not withered with the delay.”

“I know Alexander is anxious to plant the sunflowers we brought from Pemberley. He is fascinated by sunflowers and I fear his displeasure when they do not fully complete their life cycle before we depart. I cannot make him understand the passage of natural time as yet.”

“He will learn eventually, love. And we have his sunflowers at home to harvest and ease his disappointment.”

Darcy laughed. “I warn you, he will likely spend more time building dirt structures and searching for insects. That is what I did as a boy. An appreciation for horticulture came much later.”

“Well, a man of the earth like his papa should start with the earth, I believe. So he can dig all he wants. A little dirt never hurt anyone. Mrs. Smyth balked at the idea of dirt playing and nearly fainted at the idea of insects in the house when I asked for a glass jar to store any intriguing specimens he discovers.”

“Mrs. Smyth will need to adjust. Examining God’s smallest creatures is an educational pursuit and scrubbing through the ground makes a boy stronger.”

“So, while I entertain the women, you and the other husbands shall be dining at Estad’s. At least promise me you will take the time to kiss me good-day before you depart into the wilds of London?”

He smiled, stroking over her soft cheek. “I promise. And if it is kisses you want, we have a few more minutes before the urgency for coffee and food overwhelms. Come here, Mrs. Darcy.”

“Come,” Darcy boomed into the air, the study door opening briskly to reveal the retired Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. “Richard!” Darcy said with surprise, rising to greet his cousin with a handclasp. “Was noontime not soon enough to share my company?”

He extended a hand to the leather Chippendale across from his parchment-scattered desk, Richard dropping into it with a sigh.

“I thought you might be missing my smiling face, Cousin.” He grinned, reaching to pour a cup of coffee from the silver pot sitting on the edge of the massive desk. “Seriously, please pardon the interruption, William. I know you are busy.” He paused to sweep a hand over the mass of papers piled on the smooth, polished surface. “I thought you paid people to manage for you. What is the point of being obscenely rich if you have to work so hard?”

“You are lazy and an autocrat.” Darcy accused with a shake of his head, Richard shrugging and not denying the tease. “You know I prefer to attend to my business personally. However, I am striving to sell a few of my interests and consolidate. I would rather focus on the mills, Pemberley estate, and my horses, reinvesting some of my money into improving those areas. I am being pulled in too many directions, and I want to devote more time to my family and travel. It will take some time and I need to be wise in my choices, but a major thrust this year has been to begin liquidating and reinvesting into the estate and some stocks that do not require my involvement. Interested in part ownership of a German steel mill?”

Richard grunted. “As you said, I am lazy. And newly married, retired, and preparing to do my part in increasing England’s population.”

“Are you trying to tell me Lady Simone is burdened with a little Fitzwilliam?”

“Wipe that smirk off your face, and do not breathe a word to Elizabeth or I will dust off my rapier and run you through. We are not certain as yet and if my wife knew I was saying anything before she has the chance to proclaim the news to her lady friends, and especially my mother, she would skewer me herself.”

“Your secret is safe, Cousin. I do pray you are blessed with a positive confirmation soon. Elizabeth will be beside herself with joy and Aunt Madeline will be uncontainable.”

“After she recovers from her seizure. I swear she still thinks my marriage is all a happy dream that she will wake from imminently.”

Darcy laughed. “As do we all, my friend. Now, why are you really here if it is not to make an announcement?”

Richard sat forward, suddenly a colonel even if wearing a finely tailored suit similar to Darcy’s. “My associates returned from Devon.”

Darcy’s face lost all traces of jocularity, eyes intent and mouth set. “Proceed.”

“Some of what they reported you already know, but I paid them to be thorough.”

“I owe you for that, by the way.”

Richard waved a hand dismissively. “Forget it. It is my pleasure and you can pay me in father-related advice.” He reached into an inner pocket of his jacket, removing a sheath of folded papers as he continued. “I gave my associates little information other than names. I wanted them to be thorough without any prior biases or assumptions. Therefore most of the information written on these pages is redundant, as we already know the rumors. But they were assiduous in their search and record keeping. I spent most of last night after returning home sifting through this, much to my beautiful wife’s vexation, so you owe me a drink or two for that sacrifice on my part.”

He smiled, but Darcy only nodded, eyes on the pages in Richard’s hands.

Richard cleared his throat and resumed. “As you know, after recovering from the wounds you inflicted, Orman retreated to his estate in Devon and sold the one in Derbyshire. All the stories say that he hid himself behind the thick stonewalls and steadfastly began drinking himself into an early grave. That is difficult to verify, but the estate fell into disrepair within months with more than half the employees let go, so he clearly was not managing effectively. And there is some evidence that the local distributors of spirits have profited from his full-time residency, so there is probably some truth in that rumor. All of this, in addition to his selling of the London townhouse he owned, led to talk of financial woes.

“You also know how the rumors of his injuries escalated. I specifically charged my associates to discover the truth. It was difficult, but they finally learned that he is not completely crippled. He is able to walk, but haltingly with a severe limp, extreme pain, and the use of a crutch. He is not too pretty between the scars you gave him and the beauty that Lizzy delivered to his cheek. And apparently the gash to his thigh area, with subsequent festering, rendered him impotent.”

Darcy was genuinely taken aback at that, instinctively clenching his own thighs together at the horror of such a fate, before remembering that in Lord Orman’s case this was likely a blessing.

Richard shook his head, reading Darcy’s expressions. “It is not the positive you may imagine. Sure, he can no longer rape a woman, but he has transferred his anger, bitterness, and lechery to assaulting in other ways. Tragically that fact is the only way my friends were able to get any personal information. Orman never leaves his estate and no one visits him, except for select prostitutes from a local bordello.”

“But… What in the world would be the point if he cannot…” Darcy waved his hand vaguely.

“Apparently his appetite is not diminished even if he is unable to perform. Do you really want me to give further details of Orman’s perverted proclivities, William? No, I did not think so. The brothel is high class and the girls are well paid for their indulgence—and their silence, but fortunately for us, these types of individuals are also prone to gossip and are mercenary.”

He paused, gazing at his grim, pursed-lipped cousin. Darcy looked near to retching, the topic of conversation one that highly insulted his moral sensibilities. “I will just leave it that my associates are not so delicate and had no trouble stooping to distasteful methods in order to glean information. They had a fine time in the pursuit, I assure you, and no young ladies were injured, but that is where some of my money went and why I would therefore not ask you to reimburse me.”

Darcy nodded, too disturbed to reply.

“The important part,” Richard continued, “is that the information tells me that Orman is not a man fully in the grips of sanity. Additionally, the men were able to waylay the town surgeon who treats Orman. The man is a sot with loose morals and poor medical skills. Why he was chosen and is allowed in Orman’s presence may seem to be illogical, but his lacking ethics are the key. He gleefully spilled an ocean of information for two bottles of cheap port. His tales of Orman’s requirements, such as opium and ether for dulling his pain and recreational purposes, grew wilder as he reached the end of the second bottle. But, if half of what he said is true, Orman is seriously deranged.”

“And thus a man not to be trusted.”

“Yes. But also a man who probably could not reason beyond the desire for personal pleasures and revenge.”

Darcy sat back in his chair with a sigh, fingers methodically tapping on the cushioned armrest. “So, Elizabeth could not have seen him in Hertfordshire if he never leaves his house in Devon.”

“Do not be too hasty, Cousin. I have not told you all.”

Darcy lifted his piercing gaze, again alert and intense. “Wickham?”

Richard shook his head. “My men found nothing about Wickham. They asked all along the Devon roads especially at the inns, carefully mind you, but his name is unknown. But here is what is interesting. Some eighteen months ago, roughly, things began to gradually change around Orman’s estate. Crops were being planted again, a few new tenant farmers were contracted, and the grounds were improved. Rumors are rife, mind you, and no one speaks with any credibility, but there is one constant. A new employee that no one knows well, or can give a good description of, now works for the Marquis. He is mysterious, but most agree his name is Geoffrey Wiseman.”

Darcy hissed through grit teeth. “Geoffrey Wiseman. George Wickham. That is too much of a coincidence!”

Richard shrugged. “Perhaps. But…”

“Perhaps? You must see how this all fits?”

“I see that it is one way to interpret the vague information, but not conclusive. Even you must admit, Darcy, that there are probably thousands of men in England with the initials G.W.?” Darcy nodded, but his eyes conveyed no doubt in his assumption. Richard, despite his claim, matched Darcy’s expression. “However, I concur that there are too many aspects to this tale that raise my hackles.”

Darcy was scrutinizing his cousin carefully. Richard, Colonel Fitzwilliam as he would always be, was a man whose instincts were to be respected. Darcy waited, Richard finally collecting his thoughts and continuing.

“My associates returned without digging anything else up. They knew I wanted information as rapidly as possible. What I have told you is the extent of what they discovered, the remainder of the notes in these pages”—he tapped the folded parchment lying on the desk’s edge—“giving specifics that you probably do not want to read. I, however, have done my own inquiring during this past week.” He grinned, a flash of cold humor sparkling in his blue eyes. “After all, I have skills of my own and matrimony has not softened me totally, as you shall discover this afternoon at Angelo’s.”

Darcy grunted, and Richard’s grin widened briefly before fading as he resumed his narrative. “Did you know that the Marquis of Orman owns a hunting lodge near London?”

Darcy did not respond verbally, instead unerringly pulling a folded document from the apparent chaos scattered over the glossy surface of his mahogany desk. He tossed the paper to Richard wordlessly, Richard opening and scanning the written words rapidly.

“Well, excellent.”

“Mr. Daniels is highly ethical and aboveboard, but thorough and skilled in his own way. He learned of Orman’s Surrey property, a modest plot of land with a tiny cottage owned by the family for a century. It has rarely been used, apparently, as Orman was never much of a hunter, and has reportedly been vacant for the past three years.”

“That is not entirely accurate.” Darcy’s brow rose at Richard’s words. “When I stumbled across this intelligence yesterday, and after reading through this report”—he again tapped the sheath of parchment—“I asked Artois to ride out there.”

“What did he discover?”

“Not enough to form any clear conclusions, but the house is not unoccupied. There was a faint light shining from a top floor window, he said, but no other signs of habitation. He did not dare investigate too thoroughly in broad daylight and he was not prepared for clandestine spying. It could easily be a squatter, but I plan to take my friends and go back tonight for a closer look, with your permission.”

“If Orman is around, this is probably where he would be. And with Wickham, if he is this Wiseman.”

Richard nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”

A knock at the door interrupted, Darcy giving the command to enter. It was Mr. Travers with the day’s post. Richard used the intermission to pour another cup of coffee, sipping quietly while Darcy cut the strings securing a small package. He watched him withdraw a tissue wrapped miniature frame, oval and fancily gilded. The intense loathing marring his cousin’s handsome face was marked and his naturally deep voice was grating and thick when he spoke.

“I asked Mrs. Reynolds to send me this miniature portrait of Wickham. It was painted the year before my father died. He wanted a remembrance of his steward’s son, his godson. He was so proud of Wickham’s accomplishments at Cambridge. I could not bear to tell him the truth, and it is almost a blessing he died before discovering it himself.” Sadness and bitterness inundated his voice, eyes staring at the dimpled smiling face for another minute before roughly returning the painting to the confines of the box. He cleared his throat, the familiar serene regulation washing over his features before he lifted his controlled gaze to his cousin. “I plan to show it to the staff to see if anyone has seen him lurking about.”

Richard’s brows rose and he nodded with respect. “Very smart, Cousin. I should have thought of that myself! I am so impressed I may just let you score a point or two off me during our match.”

Darcy laughed, brightening slightly. “As if you could possibly beat me. Save your pity points as I shall trounce you fair and square.”

“We shall see.”

They both grinned, knowing that it would be a vigorously fought battle with the outcome a pleasant mystery with fencing skills that were evenly matched. That fact, of course, was why they so enjoyed competing against each other.

Richard stood. “Until later then. I will leave you to your dreary business pursuits and see you at Estad’s. I think I shall return home and see how my wife is faring. More babies.” He shook his head, momentarily assuming the mournful pose from his bachelor days. “What is happening to us, Darcy? All this domesticity is like a virus.”

“Really? I shall remember that, Cousin, and hold it over you.”

But Richard just laughed, slapping Darcy on the back as they walked to the door. “Alas, my wife knows me well and teases me relentlessly about the invisible shackles on my ankles. Luckily, she also knows I would have it no other way.”

For the Master of Pemberley and Darcy House, the morning hours after the departure of Richard Fitzwilliam elapsed in the company of Mr. Daniels and a pile of documents. A great deal was accomplished ere the solicitor left before noon. Appointments for further discussions were made, plans were set in motion, letters were dictated, and Darcy’s hand was cramped from writing. Mr. Travers assisted as secretary, his aged hands steady and possessing a legible penmanship superior even to Darcy’s firm script.

Final instructions for posting of missives and calendar bookings were being given to the butler when the second surprise interruption of Darcy’s day occurred.

Darcy positively answered the tentative knock on his study door, both he and Mr. Travers rising when the interrupter was revealed as Lizzy.

“Mrs. Darcy,” Mr. Travers greeted.

She nodded his direction. “Mr. Travers. Mr. Darcy.”

“Mrs. Darcy,” her husband responded, brows furrowing at the hint of a blush that highlighted her prominent cheekbones. “Is something amiss?”

“No, no. Not at all.” Her flush deepened and eyes flittered away momentarily, Darcy frowning further. “I am so sorry to disturb, but, if it is not too inconvenient or ill timed, I was hoping to speak with you for a moment?”

Mr. Travers was already gathering the stack of papers on the desk corner before him, murmuring his intent to post the letters immediately, and not noticing the puzzled and amused expressions crossing his Master’s features. He passed Lizzy, bowing again, and closed the door firmly behind.

Darcy stood before his chair, observing his wife as she bit her lower lip and fidgeted with her wedding rings. He was content that he could read her moods well enough to ascertain that nothing alarming was causing her strange actions but was unsure of the root source. She was a bit breathless and a becoming flush spread to the tops of her bosoms, which, he noted with a jolt, were rising delightfully with her respirations and perceptible under the clinging muslin of her lightweight spring gown.

“Elizabeth, are you well?” His voice cracked feebly, his blood suddenly racing by her apparent condition.

She glanced up, eyes flashing from sultry to sheepish as she approached. “Michael is asleep and Alexander playing. I was… thinking of you and… missing you.” She nervously swept a loose strand of hair away. “I know you are busy, but wanted to see you and felt that I could not wait.”

She bit her lip again, an unconscious mannerism that never failed to make his knees weak, glancing upward into his penetrating eyes as she now stood in front of him a mere two feet away. He could feel the heat emanating from her body, the flush a ruddy glow now, and he lifted a hand to entwine with the one she extended toward his chest.

However, before their fingers met she exhaled sharply and sidestepped, moving around the chair. Before his surprise allowed him to turn toward her she had placed both hands onto his shoulders, tugging decisively until he sank into the cushioned leather of his enormous chair.

“Elizabeth, what…?”

“I was playing with our son, bouncing the ball between us, while my thoughts became diverted!” Her hands were running over his nape, jawline, and through his hair, fingertips massaging his skin in that mixed therapeutic and seductive way she possessed. Her voice was huskily vibrant but with undertones of peevishness. “How inappropriate is it to be in the company of a two-year-old and begin to feel… That is, what kind of a mother am I to abandon my children so I can seek my husband in the middle of the day? In his study no less! It is not like we haven’t… been together for days or weeks. Why, just this morning, not some six hours ago we… Aargh!”

Darcy was trying hard not to laugh. His smile was faintly lecherous, as her reminder to their morning interlude, instigated most forcefully by her, was a pleasant memory indeed.

“Dearest…”

“All I could think of as I tossed that infernal ball to our innocent baby was your body! Your hands and mouth and neck.” She was leaning into him, breasts brushing over his shoulder blades and breath tickling the exposed skin of his ear as she nibbled on a lobe. “Fitzwilliam…” she whispered, and he turned his face toward her, meeting her glazed eyes for a brief second before she pulled away.

Instantly scarlet to the tips of her ears, she withdrew, back of her hand over her full lips. “I should not have infringed upon you with my… ridiculousness.” She backed away, retreating around his chair until leaning against his desk, locked by his blue eyes glittering with gaiety. “This is pathetic, is it not? Chasing you down while you work to bother you with my humiliating impulses. I know you are to leave soon, and…”

“Are you trying to politely say that your concupiscence is high and that you have sought me out for relief?” His left brow arched playfully. He would not have thought it possible for her blush to deepen, but it did. He chuckled, speaking with humor amid the resonance. “Have I ever given you the idea that I would not welcome your attentions? Or that your passionate nature and zeal for me is not an incredible stimulant to my own ardor? Is there any doubt that I am the type of husband, and man, who gleefully encourages his wife to express her wanton urges and willingly acquiesces?”

She shook her head, smiling and not attempting to hide her desire as he rose and stepped near. He spanned her slender waist, strong hands smoothly lifting and sitting her onto the flat top of his desk. Starting at her ankles, he rubbed upward along the quivering silkiness of her legs, sliding under her skirts. Her legs parted naturally as he bent forward, his large frame dwarfing her dainty body and overwhelming her senses. Brushing his lips over her ear he whispered, “If you desire me, you need only ask. I can assure you I will never deny your fervor if at all feasible to comply.”

Lizzy released a throaty moan, her stasis broken as she seized his cravat and jerked his mouth to hers, deftly untying the knotted silk in seconds. That accomplished, she attacked his clothing and body with a direct assault that stunned him despite his invitation.

Oddly enough, considering the mania they possessed for each other and the wild liberalness of their lovemaking, especially during the first year of their marriage, they had never made love on his desks. His Pemberley desk was simply too cluttered, the risk of serious wounding or impalement too great, so the numerous trysts occurring in that chamber were fulfilled in safer if equally atypical locations. This room was not inviolate, it being a good thing that walls cannot talk, but the desk had mysteriously remained undefiled.

Until now, and they would henceforth wonder why they waited so long! Of course, the fact that Darcy would forever have to tear his thoughts away from decadent memories to attend seriously to work may be one logical justification for avoiding the site. Another was the crumbled parchment pieces and spilled ink. But neither was enough to outweigh the indescribable ecstasy attained. Plus, the vision of his half-clothed wife lusciously splayed over his work surface, her face glistening with the radiance of sensual satiation and lush lips ruddy and swollen from his kisses was a picture he would never be regretful of holding.

“Lizzy, my beautiful Lizzy,” he whispered, lips grazing over the heated skin encasing her fluttering heart. “I do not know what impetus drove you here, into my arms, but I am grateful you did not resist the urge. I love you so!”

“I am not sure what impetus drove me either, William. All morning, even moments after rising from our bed and your arms, I wanted you again.”

His laugh was guttural and replete with satisfaction, teeth delightfully nipping along her collarbone. “Please do not expect me to express the slightest unhappiness in that information!”

“No, I would not anticipate your overwhelming remorse or displeasure. Nor am I in any way displeased. It is just… Ooh! Something is poking my side and my leg is getting a cramp.”

More laughter ensued, the aftermath of rising from the awkward position and adjusting clothing humorous. The poking quill was free of ink, Lizzy’s dress spared that stain although the wrinkles were another matter. They ended up sitting on Darcy’s chair with Lizzy nestled in his lap while he kneaded her thigh muscle free of residual spasms.

“There. Feeling better?”

“Much. The experience was worth any discomfort.” She nuzzled into his neck, hand snaking under his loosened shirt to the hot flesh underneath. “You are amazing, my husband. In every way knowing how to ease my pains. Such a superb deliverer of delights and gratification.” She kissed along his jaw to his ear with tongue feathering while her caressing hand grew bolder.

“My love? If you are attempting to re-seduce me I may be forced to disappoint. Even I have a limit to how rapidly I can recover, your obvious charms notwithstanding.” She did not reply, nor did she halt her pointed fondling. He chuckled, squirming and clasping her hand as he turned and captured her mouth in a firm kiss. “Goodness! I have not seen you so amorous since you were pregnant with Michael! Not that you are not generally more than capable of matching my ardor, but it has been a while since you accosted me in my study. And no, I am not complaining in the slightest.” He paused, noting the odd expression on her face. “Elizabeth?”

“What did you say about being amorous?”

“That I approve most highly. And if you insist I am positive we can repeat the performance later tonight.”

He kissed her cheek, but she pulled him away to look into his face. Her mien was one of blended surprise and elation. Darcy frowned.

“You may be right, William,” she whispered, and then shakily laughed. “I cannot believe it has not occurred to me!” She rose from his lap, pacing away a few feet while he watched her in perplexity. “Probably because I have not restarted my cycles so I had no gauge. But I have been sleepier than usual, my breasts have been aching”—she absently cupped her heavy breasts—“and for the past couple of weeks I have been mildly queasy, although I attributed that to traveling and not eating my usual diet. And I have been desiring you more than usual, not that I do not welcome the feeling, but still!”

“Stop!” He was on his feet, hands fisted at his sides. His face was as white as a sheet and his lips pressed so tightly together that small pressure wrinkles appeared. “Are you saying you think you may be… pregnant?” His voice was a bare whisper, cracking on the final word.

“I am not certain, of course, but it fits, and certainly is plausible considering us.” And she waved her hand between their two bodies. Her face was glowing with joy, eyes radiant and unfocused, and thus not noting his pained expression or tone of voice.

Darcy stared for another few moments and then released a coarse whine, pivoting and lurching to the window. His mumbling, angry words reached her ears, “Irresponsible idiot! You should have done something to prevent this happening so soon.”

“What are you saying, William? Prevent another child?” Her face was aghast, her eyes wide with astonishment. “Even if that were possible, why would you wish such a thing?”

“Is it not obvious, Elizabeth? After Michael, your illness, I…” He sighed in exasperation. “You have barely returned to a normal state, emotionally. It has only been a month since you quit drinking uncle’s teas! How could this happen so quickly?”

“Surely you do not need me to answer that question?” She snapped, her eyes afire with irritation.

“No, of course not. I did not mean…”

“Conception occurs when it occurs, Mr. Darcy. Look at Mary. Two babies in short succession. I doubt if Mr. Daniels expressed unhappiness!”

“It is hardly the same. You were so ill, Elizabeth. And we… our relationship suffered so dramatically. I could not bear to have that transpire again!”

His voice broke, the stricken cast to his mien penetrating Lizzy’s awareness. Her heart melted, although she remained somewhat annoyed. She crossed to where he stood ramrod tense by the window. She looked into his agonized eyes, reaching her hands to gently straighten his disarrayed clothing, injecting placating modulations as she spoke.

“Uncle George has assured us both, several times, that the likelihood of another such incident is slim now that we know what to watch for. He will be with me to assure I am well, and I shall not make the mistake of avoiding assistance. We have all learned to be cautious and diligent, my love. Furthermore, and most importantly, I have no intention of looking upon carrying our babies, as often as the Almighty chooses to gift us, as anything but the most miraculous of blessings. I do not believe that you feel any different.”

He stilled her hands, clasping them between his own and lifting to kiss her fingers. “I love you, Elizabeth, beyond words. And I love our children. And, yes, I do want more. In time. But I cannot pretend that the idea of you being pregnant, now, so soon, does not terrify me. I simply cannot embrace the joy of the idea at this juncture. Please forgive me, dearest, but I…” He swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment, and resumed in a husky whisper. “I cannot…”

A knock at the door arrested his words and any further discussion. Darcy reluctantly pulled away, tucking his shirt and fastening the buttons on his jacket. He cleared his throat, face assuming a neutral expression with only faint lines of stress marring the calm semblance.

“Yes?”

“Sir”—it was Mr. Travers, opening the door mere inches—“your horse is waiting.”

“Thank you. I shall be there momentarily.”

The door closed, leaving the lovers alone. Lizzy was staring at her husband, emotions in turmoil but understanding his angst. He pleaded silently, eyes melancholy, even as she forced a smile.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Lizzy interrupted. “Have a wonderful afternoon, dearest. We shall talk of this later.” She lifted on tiptoes to kiss his cheek and caress fingertips over his jaw. “All will be well, you shall see. I love you.”

Then she turned and left the room without a backward glance.