She turned slowly, eyes widening in a delayed reaction when she realized it was not George Darcy. With a gasp and sob she cried his name, crossing the short distance as if flying weightless, and was into his arms. Pressing with steely hands on his back and face buried into the hard planes of his chest, she dissolved into tears.
Darcy embraced her with steady strength, hands caressing all about the trembling surfaces of her backside; his face embedded into her hair as he bestowed hundreds of kisses to her head. “Elizabeth, beautiful, dearest wife. Hush, love, I am home. I will not leave you. I love you, my heart. Please do not cry…”
On it went, Lizzy lost to salving tears. Darcy swept her into his arms, carrying to the sofa by the smoldering fire and sitting with her tightly clenched in his lap. Her face was nestled into his neck, fingers running through his hair as her weeping slowly subsided. He gave her the time she needed, hugging and stroking tenderly. Reaching gently to cup her jaw, he leaned back while pulling her head away, thumb caressing over her cheek, and met her eyes.
“Do not cry, beloved, please.” He brushed over her lips lightly as the familiar jolt of pleasure rocked through his being. Her lips parted, insistently deepening the kiss. Darcy thought he could die of happiness right then. Embracing his wife, tasting her mouth and tongue, the intimacy of her womanly curves snuggled into his body, her tiny hands kneading and seeking, and the muted sounds of contentment escaping all conspired to overwhelm his senses.
The kiss broke, but their eyes remained closed with faces touching, cheeks fondling cheeks, noses grazing, foreheads in contact, and nuzzling kisses over all features while murmured endearments fell. Lizzy shivered at the blissful sensation of roughly whiskered cheeks and chin scraping the delicate flesh of her face, inhaled deeply of his woodsy scent, trembled afresh at the vibrantly adoring tones of his voice, and leeched the radiant heat always emanating from the sturdy muscles of his body.
Softly and huskily whispering into his ear between infinitesimal kisses, she said, “Dearest love, forgive me for forcing you away from your business, but I was so afraid. I should feel more ashamed of my selfishness and pathetic reliance, but I do not. I needed you here, and now I know precisely why.” She withdrew a few inches to clearly view his beloved face, frowning instantly upon noting the lines of fatigue and marked pallor.
Darcy was attempting to wipe the drying tears with his handkerchief, his smile sunny. “I am at fault for ever leaving you, and if you are selfish or pathetic, then I am as well. We can be a matched pair of hopeless romantics.”
Lizzy was barely listening, swiping at the handkerchief impatiently as she trailed fingertips over his face. “William, you look terrible. Are you still unwell?”
“I have been hearing this frequently lately. Very well, I shall confess to being tired beyond belief, consumed with worry, still a bit weak from my ordeal, and with a lingering cough. All of this will surely evaporate now that I can sleep in your arms, not to mention being dosed with some horrid concoction of Dr. Darcy's. Perhaps in a day or two I will again be the 'handsomest man of your acquaintance.'”
Lizzy chuckled lightly, still stroking over his face. “You are forever the handsomest man not only of my acquaintance but in the entire world, just a bit worse for wear at this current time. Now you are here for me to nurse you back to health.”
“How odd. I was under the impression that I had come dashing home to care for you.” He smiled, caressing over her abdomen. “Seriously, Elizabeth, how are you feeling?”
“No pains for the past two days. Well, other than the usual vague ones. He is active and apparently unperturbed by stressing his parents so profoundly.” She swallowed, eyes moistening. “I was very frightened, William. Not so much by the pains themselves, but because you were not here. No one should see him before you. George says he would be fine if born now, but I do not want to take the chance.”
“I concur. We will be cautious and do all he recommends. However, he did make one point we should bear in mind: if our son wishes to come, we cannot prevent it. I do not want his introduction to his parents to be anxiety filled. It will be a joyous welcoming, Elizabeth, replete with enthusiasm, hope, and love.”
“This is why I need you here, my heart, to cheer me up and keep me focused.”
Cosseted for the next two hours, they talked and kissed and nuzzled. The baby responded to his father's persuasion by rolling about and kicking. Lizzy, as Dr. Darcy intimated, was not pleased at the restriction in sexual activity, but she did not argue the logic. The yearning boiled under the surface, but as much as they desired each other, the desire for a healthy child was greater.
Lizzy was allowed to join the family for dinner, walking slowly on Darcy's arm. She felt not the least bit delicate or uncomfortable, frankly more concerned by the deepening circles under her husband's eyes, but he insisted she lean on him. It was tempting, but she did not tease him as to what she would do if he collapsed! George presented Darcy with a bottle of thick greenish fluid, which he did not ask the contents of, preferring not to know what bizarre extracts he was forced to imbibe. Whatever it was, his throat was instantly numbed, and the nagging tickle that kept him from attaining a deep sleep disappeared. Additionally, either there was some hidden ingredient that sedated or he was simply wholly depleted because he slept blissfully embracing his wife for twelve hours straight.
The days following Darcy's return passed in calm serenity. None of the four occupants wandered beyond the immediate garden pathways, and hardly even there as the weather was decidedly unpleasant. Lizzy experienced no further contractions of any notable intensity, devotedly drinking the foul-tasting tea four times a day as prescribed. She smothered her natural inclinations and irritation, resting frequently and walking short distances only. In all ways she was the perfectly obedient patient.
Darcy's cough diminished to a rare event of minor duration and strength. He was correct in judging that restful sleep and tranquility would restore his energy and health. The muscle aches and weakness faded rapidly, and the color returned to his cheeks as the duskiness vanished. His pleasure and frank relief at discovering all Pemberley affairs managed competently and completely in his absence was overwhelming. Mr. Keith only had a list of four items that needed to be discussed with the Master. Mr. Daniels sent a small packet containing the unfinished business, none of which were vital, allowing Darcy the time to attend it at his leisure. Slowly life was settling into the typical winter stasis with nothing of vast import looming, even the birth of their child an event to anticipate with nothing but excitement.
Darcy seemed to handle his uncle's interdiction to forsake making love to his wife with equanimity. If Lizzy noted a churning blaze in his eyes from time to time when he thought she was not looking, she said nothing. In truth, Lizzy discovered her sexual desire muted as the baby's weight pressed upon her body and increased her fatigue. At times the romantic feelings would surge, especially in the mornings when she was most rested and her husband traditionally his most amorous.
They slept together, as it was quite simply unthinkable to be apart, but Lizzy wore a gown and Darcy a nightshirt or breeches. The barrier of clothing did not prevent Darcy's desire to any great degree, but it was a tangible reminder for a fuzzy brain to be restrained. Feeling her husband's desire was stimulating to Lizzy as well although her craving was not as pressing. Nevertheless, neither was overly concerned about denied lovemaking as the infant's health was of prime concern. Dr. Darcy did not withdraw the ban, and they knew that each passing day allowed the baby to mature, possibly the difference between life and death. That idea was sobering and effectively squelched passion, even Darcy's.
The Bingleys arrived for a short sojourn to honor Darcy's thirtieth birthday. His wish to completely ignore the day was also ignored, but Lizzy had submitted to his request for a modest celebration. The plan was for nothing more than a private dinner party with a handful of their friends. The gentlemen had tentatively discussed a hunt if the weather permitted.
/> November the tenth dawned cold with a drizzling rain. No sun was forthcoming to wake the Darcys at the dawn so they slept late. Lizzy stirred first. As usual it was the call of a full bladder that invaded her restful slumber, care taken as she hastily but gently removed herself from Darcy's unconscious grip. He sighed sleepily, garbled something, and rolled to his back.
Lizzy returned from the water closet fully intending on pressing chilled feet against her spouse's shins as she returned to the land of dreams, but she halted at the sight greeting her. It was not at all unusual for her potent husband to wake in some degree of arousal, his morning amorousness generally greeted with delight and openness by an adoring, and fortunate, wife. Today was typical with Darcy asleep on his back, the evidence of his virility not hidden by the covers.
Remembering his first gift to her on the morning of her birthday in May, she smiled lasciviously and crawled under the blankets. Nestling close, she starting with moist kisses along his neck while reaching pointedly under his nightshirt.
Darcy jerked, instantly wide awake with thighs clenching and body rippling. “Elizabeth, what…? Wait, we cannot…”
“We cannot, my lover, but I can. Now lie back, relax, and enjoy.”
Lizzy knew well the extreme gratification to be found in pleasing her husband. The long time without her did not afford him the greatest regulation, but enough to thoroughly enjoy all the wondrous thrills she bestowed upon his body. Lizzy's satisfaction in observing the man she loved so profoundly attaining satisfaction through her manipulation was excessive.
Seconds later, his body yet shuddering and skin ablaze, he pulled her into a sturdy embrace and captured her whole mouth in a penetrating kiss. The satiation achieved was immeasurable yet a mere fragment of the total desire he possessed for his wife. He pressed her harshly into his torso with hands caressing roughly in the need to show her his lingering hunger for her.
“Lizzy. Lord what you do to me!” He moved his hands to her face, panting roughly, and pressed his forehead against hers. For a very long while he held her in silence, his breathing and heartbeat gradually resuming regularity. When he spoke his voice was very deep and gravelly, “I was dreaming of you and I together under the trees. Thank you, my lover, for this morning. It was… you are… unbelievable. As satisfied as I am right now, my heart aches as I cannot return the gesture.”
She halted his words with a long, teasing kiss. “Fitzwilliam, you are truly too wonderful and a bit of a fool. I am abundantly content to give you this gift. You give me so much, endlessly extending yourself in hundreds of ways to please me. I am blessed and exhilarated to have this opportunity to focus only on you. Happy birthday, William.”
Darcy faced his birthday with a broad smile and spring in his step that was noticed by all, especially George Darcy, who in turn leapt to the wrong conclusion and kept a very close eye on Elizabeth. For her part, Lizzy was in a gay mood. She felt wonderful physically despite the consistent nags of advanced pregnancy, was emotionally joyous at the chance to honor her spouse on his special day, and spiritually thrilled by the peace she noted on his face. She was a bit smug about it, too!
The misty rain ceased by noon, the men folk jumping up instantly to take advantage of the break in weather for their hunt. Darcy, Bingley, and George were met by both Vernor men, Albert Hughes, and George Fitzherbert on the fringes of Pemberley's forest. The Sitwells would be arriving in the afternoon for the dinner party. Unfortunately the Drurys would not be able to attend as Chloe's pregnancy was far advanced and had not been an easy one. Georgiana spent the morning hours with her tutor, allotting Jane and Lizzy a block of time for sisterly companionship.
“Why did it have to rain?” Lizzy asked. She stood in her parlor staring out the window. “Now the walkways are slick and muddy.” She sighed loudly, turning to join her sister on the settee.
Jane smiled. “I have never known you to be inhibited by the weather. Is Mr. Darcy's overprotectiveness wearing off on you?”
“Not completely; however, I must confess that in this instance he is wise. I am ashamed to admit it, but I have discovered a slight unsteadiness at times. All this weight on my poor hip bones, I suppose.” She placed her hands on either side of her belly, smiling ruefully. “It is not worth the risk. Instead I wander up and down the halls where chairs are readily available.” She shrugged.
“Considering the length of Pemberley's halls, it is likely more exercise than if you walked to the rock pond and back.”
“Your tea, Mistress.” Mrs. Reynolds entered with the pot of Dr. Darcy's prescribed brew, Lizzy wincing. “Drink it all this time, Mrs. Darcy. I will be checking. Mrs. Bingley, this is for you.” She sat the pots down onto the table, bobbing a curtsy, and then departing after a pointed glance to her Mistress.
Jane began laughing the moment the door closed. “The fever of safeguarding appears to be contagious.”
“I am carrying the Darcy heir after all.”
“Pish! It is because she cares for you, Lizzy, any fool can see that. By the way, you speak of your weight, but do you remember Angela Harley? Poor dear was enormous. I seriously began to have doubts at the whole concept of matrimony and maternity watching her.” Lizzy was laughing at the recollection. “You, dear sister, are yet svelte in comparison. I do hope I am as fortunate when the time arrives.”
Jane's voice softened and she glanced away, Lizzy watching her with sudden speculation. “Jane, is there something you wish to reveal to me?”
Jane blushed brightly, staring into her lap. “I should say nothing yet, Lizzy, as we are not certain.” She glanced up at Lizzy with a shy smile, continuing, “Oh Lizzy, I have been bursting to tell you! Charles and I may be expecting!”
Lizzy clasped her hands with joy. “Jane! How marvelous! I cannot believe that Mr. Bingley has managed to maintain his calm!”
“We only days ago began to suspect and cannot be certain. Please, Lizzy, say nothing, except to Mr. Darcy of course, but no other. I know you are not the superstitious type, but I do so want to present Charles a child and fear if we speak of it too forcefully it will prove false.”
“Oh Jane, you are so silly! Nonetheless, I understand the necessity in waiting to be sure. I knew it would be lovely having you close. Now our children can grow together as playmates. Oh happy day!”
“Speaking of babies, have you heard from Charlotte?”
“Not for a month or so. In fact I was beginning to worry as I know she was due early this month. Her last letter assured me all was progressing normally. Mama's recent letter mentions nothing, so there must be no news to report or surely Mama would know!”
“Quite uncharitable of you, Lizzy, but I agree that it is true. Your tea is getting cold and you have yet to finish it. Tsk, tsk! Mrs. Reynolds may turn you over her knee. Here, have a scone. That may help the flavor.”
“No, place it amid the curls just above her left ear. Excellent! Absolutely stunning. Once again, Marguerite, you have created a flawless masterpiece.”
“Thank you, sir. With hair such as Mrs. Darcy possesses it is an easy task. I was assuming the amber necklace, madam? Does this meet with your approval?”
Lizzy shrugged. “Perhaps you should ask my personal fashion advisor.”
Both Lizzy and Marguerite looked questioningly to Darcy's reflection in the vanity mirror. “By all means the amber necklace and earrings.”
Marguerite disappeared into the closet, Lizzy gazing at her husband via the mirror. He stood in the doorway of her dressing room, dressed in a spectacular ensemble of dark gray pantaloons and jacket with waistcoat in silvery threaded purple, observing the final preparations of his wife with a happy smile on his lips. Lizzy wore the auburn gown from their renewal ceremony, her hair truly magnificent with a single clip of diamonds now nestled above her left ear.
Marguerite returned with the jewels, Darcy stepping forward to wordlessly take them from her. “I will finish here, Mrs. Oliver. Enjoy your evening with your husband.”
Marguerite
curtsied, with a faint rosiness highlighting her pale cheeks, and departed. Moving behind Lizzy, Darcy encircled her slender neck and clasped the necklace in place, fingertips brushing over her skin. He bent to bestow a tiny kiss to the nape of her neck, handing her the earrings and speaking roughly, “Earrings are beyond my expertise. Elizabeth, you are breathtaking. One of the best birthday presents in all my life, sans your bookmark, is the vision of you as you are now.”
His hands rested lightly on her shoulders, Lizzy clipping the earrings on. “Thank you, my love. However, maybe this year's present will please you.” She stood and took his hand, leading into the bedchamber. The wrapped gift sat on the sofa, Lizzy encouraging Darcy to sit and handing it to him. “Happy birthday, William.”
“I will remind you that I requested no gifts.”
“Surely you did not think I would obey such a ridiculous order? Be thankful I did not invite all of Derbyshire to pay homage. After all, it is a remarkably special day, your healthy birth the beginning of the pathway leading you to me. Now open.”
He slowly untied the bow, pulling the wrapping away from the large, flat box. Lizzy was biting nervously on the corner of her lip, Darcy glancing at her with a soft smile. Inside under layers of tissue paper was a framed portrait. Darcy's breath caught and mouth fell open as with trembling fingers he removed the picture.
It was Lizzy dressed in one of his favorite gowns: a satin dress of navy blue with silver trim that beautifully accented her fuller bosom, capped sleeves off the shoulders exposing the creamy lusciousness of her flesh and swanlike neck. She wore his mother's pearl necklace and dainty drop earrings, thick chestnut tresses elaborately coiffed with tiny pearls woven into a strand of curls cascading over her right shoulder and wisps of hair brushing delicately along her temples. The artist had masterfully captured the vibrant sparkle of her eyes, faint twist of bubbling humor on her lush lips, and barely suppressed verve evident in the tilt of her head. The portrait was miniaturized, approximately twelve inches high and eight inches wide, but the realism was so astounding that the image verily leapt off the canvas.