My Dearest Mr. Darcy: An Amazing Journey Into Love Everlasting (20 page)

Lizzy and Darcy were two of a dozen persons wandering via the lush grounds and tumbling stones. The castle was actually well preserved despite the anomalous holes and general decay. The rusted chains to the absent drawbridge dangled beside the main entrance, the inner courtyard building frames were readily discernible, and the tall tower with sturdy spiraling stairway was easily navigable. Lizzy felt perky after so many days of lazing about, but did ascend the stairs in gradual stages with Darcy's hand as a rock on her elbow. The view from on high was well worth the breathlessness.

Another day found them comfortably settled into one of the resort's phaetons as they passed several hours meandering about the immediate countryside with no distinct destination on the agenda. This was a highly irregular occurrence, Darcy being a man extremely detail oriented and organized with little spontaneity to his character! It was Lizzy's idea to set out randomly and Darcy blanched and spluttered at the concept, Lizzy laughing as she propelled him to the cozy carriage stocked with a picnic lunch, local map, and thick rug.

"Anywhere but east, Mr. Darcy," she said with lifted chin and imperiously pointing finger.

Darcy stared at her for a whole ten minutes, Lizzy maintaining her humorously commanding pose, while his mind raced with nearly audible clicks as the meticulous list of activities written in his firm hand were mentally checked. Finally he nodded, a tiny smile lifting the corners of his lips. "Certainly not east. Very well, Mrs. Darcy, as you wish. Ha!" The last to the horses and with a slap of the reins, they set off.

In truth, if one did not travel due south into Great Yarmouth, a destination for another day, or north where they had already traversed, west was the only remaining direction, and this meant touring the Broads. The extensive wetlands unique in all of England, given the name "Broads" due to the seemingly endless expanses of shallow lakes and connecting rivers, was honestly a sight to behold. Darcy drove the road north of the River Bure heading toward Stokesby. Within two miles they were on the fringes of the marsh, the ground notably soggier and air humid. Darcy cleared his throat, the usual precursor to an oration, but Lizzy spoke into the silence first.

"The Norfolk Broads," she began, in a strong lecturing tone as if reciting from a textbook, "an area approximately one hundred twenty square miles composed of seven rivers and fifty broads, most navigable. Home to a plethora of diverse wildlife, many believed to only reside here, and the necessary livelihood for the residents from Norwich and all the small burgs in the vicinity as the essential commerce route to Great Yarmouth and beyond. Most believe the vast waterways a natural landscape fashioned by God and time; others contend it at least partially a result of centuries of peat excavation. Whatever the case, currently the marshlands serve as a perfect habitation for farmers and fishermen. With vegetation naturally in abundance, cattle, sheep, and waterfowl flourish. The infinite quantities of hay, sedge, and reed are easily cultivated and sold."

She continued to ramble on as Darcy drove, his grin spreading with each passing word. When she had memorized the book he had brought with him, he had no idea, but his pleasure in her interest and recall was tremendous. He said little as they wheeled along the rutted tracks and across the numerous bridges, allowing his delightful wife to bask in her education and tease with her frequent inflections, gestures, and word usages, which were precisely meant to mimic him.

All the while they passed sprawling flatlands thick with reeds, rushes, fen orchid, ragged robin, and meadow thistle; all inundated with moths, butterflies, and dragonflies of truly astounding proportions and colors. Neither Lizzy nor Darcy had ever seen so many flying bugs. At times it was rather frightening, the masses of damselflies and gnats swarming about their heads. Twice they caught glimpses of otters slipping into the murky waters, and Darcy spied a red deer that agilely bounded behind a copse of sallow trees before Lizzy turned the direction of Darcy's pointing finger. The birds were as abundant as the insects, far too many to adequately identify. Even Darcy relinquished the endeavor, opting to purely take pleasure in the array of colors, shapes, and sounds.

Darcy kept the map on his knees, useful as a blanket shielding Lizzy's rubbing hand, but primarily to prevent him driving them astray. Unlike all their previous journeys where either Lizzy was supremely oriented, as during their frequent treks about Hertfordshire while engaged, or Darcy was knowledgeable, as in London and Derbyshire, here they were both utterly out of their element. The vague sense of unease never left him throughout the day, Darcy not comfortable in unfamiliar terrains. Lizzy had no trepidation whatsoever, giddily admiring the stupendous environs and trusting her husband's formidable competence as well as her own excellent sense of direction.

In the end, they suffered no mishaps. Aside from the reams of wildlife, people were also a constant. The river keels and wherries were interminable, not to mention the intermittent homesteads, all with congenially waving individuals aplenty. At Acle they veered northward to Thurne then turning easterly until reaching Hemesby, where they looped south to Caister. The landscaping remained stupendous and wildly diverse with wonders so numerous that they gave up even pointing or commenting, simply observing in serene awe.

By mid afternoon they were safely returned to the inn. Darcy escorted his wilting wife to their room, intent on tucking her in for a needed nap. Faint hopes were momentarily raised when she pivoted in his arms at the bedside, one arm slithering over his shoulder while tiny creeping fingertips fiddled with his cravat.

"Care to join me, my love?" she asked with upturned face and presented lips.

Darcy bent, accepting her invitation wholeheartedly, only to have her gift abruptly nullified by a jaw-cracking yawn. He chuckled against her mouth, withdrawing inches and caressing her rosy cheek. "Thank you for the offer, dearest, but I think I shall put you both to bed." He bussed her nose, whirling her about gently, and with a pat on the bottom assisted her into the bed. Sitting next to her warm body, he noticed not for the first time the increased inability to nestle snuggly against the front part of her. Not that he in any way was perturbed by this, joyously settling as close as feasible and resting a large hand over their child. He was extremely active at the present, kicking and jabbing his father's hand with great enthusiasm.

"I do not believe he appreciated the pickled herring," Lizzy mumbled, eyes already slipping closed. "He has been pummeling me since lunch."

Darcy laughed softly, leaning until his mouth rested over Lizzy's flattening navel. "Listen carefully, young one. Your father commands you to behave and allow your mother to rest. She promises to never consume pickled herring again. Be a good boy now and sleep." He continued on, Lizzy smiling at his silliness while the baby apparently disregarded his father's authority, exercise unabating. Internal calisthenics were not a deterrent to Lizzy's slumber after all, sleep claiming her within minutes. Darcy gently massaged her belly, sitting in serene contemplation for a bit before rising. After a soft kiss to her forehead and whispered
I love you
, he retrieved his book from the table and left the room.

The main patio was cast in deep shadows this time of day and nearly vacant. The men were bathing, but Darcy opted to enjoy the solitude. The book,
Moll Flanders
by Daniel Defoe, sat open on his knees, forgotten for the moment as he watched the waves and a group of children splashing.

"Mr. Darcy. I am surprised to see you here all alone and not bathing with the gentlemen."

Darcy glanced upward with a start, rising and bowing elegantly. "Lady Underwood. I trust you are well today and enjoying your visit?"

"Tolerably," she said with a smile, sitting gracefully on an empty chair across from Darcy. "It can be boring and somewhat lonely to travel unaccompanied, but I refuse to be a burden to my friends. Please sit, Mr. Darcy. No need to stand at attention." She smiled sweetly, fluttering her fan toward his chair.

Darcy hesitated, uncomfortably glancing about to ensure they were not alone, before resuming his seat. He sat with back ramrod straight, his bottom on the extreme edge, ready to spring up at the first opportunity for escape.

Lady Underwood laughed. "Relax, Mr. Darcy! I shan't bite, promise. Where is Mrs. Darcy, by the way?"

"She is resting."

Lady Underwood fanned her face, staring boldly at Darcy with a pensive expression. "Have you been married long, Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy stiffened even further, meeting her eyes with studied indifference. "Nearly a year."

"I must say I was surprised to see a woman so advanced in her pregnancy traveling. Few men would wish to squire their wives about in such a state. It is impressive and... touching."

Darcy remained silent, countenance impassive as he returned his gaze to the waves. Lady Underwood continued, "The two of you seem to have an unusual relationship. At least unusual compared to most I have observed. It intrigues me."

"Lady Underwood, forgive my rudeness, but I do not wish to discuss my personal relationship."

To his surprise, she laughed. "As you wish, Mr. Darcy. I meant no offense."

Silence fell. Lady Underwood eventually filled the quiet with casual chatter, Darcy responding in mostly monosyllables. Another fifteen minutes passed, Darcy wound tighter than a coil. Just as he prepared to excuse himself, Lady Underwood rose, lowering her voice seductively and leaning toward him. "Your wife is an adorable creature and I can certainly understand the attraction. Nonetheless, I know how difficult it can be for some men when their wives are in the advanced stages of pregnancy. Traveling unescorted does have its advantages, Mr. Darcy, but it gets lonely. Very lonely. Perhaps we can help each other."

The expression of disgust with flinty blue eyes leveled at her face caused Lady Underwood to retreat a step. Darcy said nothing, but his answer was clear. Still, she smiled, shrugging slightly. "Merely an offer, Mr. Darcy. Think about it. Have a lovely evening."

Darcy shuddered, rising quickly once she was gone, heart pounding with the need to touch his wife. He was not overly stunned by Lady Underwood's proposition, having been the recipient of similar sexual solicitations more times than he could recall, all of which revolted him and were never accepted. As disdainful as he considered the practice, he knew it was common. Nonetheless, he always felt dirty when accosted, but never more than now that he was married.

Elizabeth slept, face relaxed and gloriously beautiful. Darcy removed his jacket, waistcoat, and boots, cautiously nestling against her back. Lizzy sighed, murmured his name, and melted into his embrace without waking. He did not sleep, but held her close and tranquil for the next hour, renewed and cleansed in her presence. Only when she began to stir slightly with the familiar shifting cadence to her respirations indicative of pending wakefulness did he release the top buttons of her gown and slide a hand in to cup one ripe, warm breast. Squeezing tenderly and playing with a pert nipple, he feathered kisses along the nape of her neck. He was not yet aroused, instead merely delighting in the joy of holding her and knowing that eternally she would be his to love and talk with and share his soul.

Lizzy rolled in his arms with a heady sigh, sleepy eyes meeting his. His hand resumed its pleasure at her breast, the other stroking a now exposed shoulder. "I did not anticipate you being here when I awoke. It is a most pleasant surprise."

He smiled brilliantly in response, the dazzling smile only given to Lizzy with all his pearly teeth flashing and faint dimples appearing; the smile that extended into his eyes, blue orbs so crystalline as to nearly be transparent, sparkling, and shining so brightly that she could see a tiny image of her face in the mirror-like surface. Her breath caught at the boundless adoration and cavernous love reflected therein.

"I love you, William, with all my soul!"

"I love you, my Elizabeth. You are my soul, my blood and bone, my very life." He continued to stare at her, fondling her breasts but making no other moves, content to gaze at her for the present. Lizzy stared in return, hands slowly stroking over his body, as content as he to allow passion to gradually rise on the wings of idolization.

It could have been ten minutes, perhaps an hour, but eventually his shirt was discarded and her buttons were released with lips following the line of exposed flesh. Darcy tasted her, relishing the mildly salty flavor and musky odor of her skin. Mostly he thrilled at the soft mews of pleasure passing her lips and the rushing heat flushing her skin wherever he touched. Her breasts swelled and hardened under his hands and mouth. She tensed and shivered continually, the passage of time only heightening her response to his ministrations. Endlessly she murmured his name, driving him insane with desire and happiness.

Over the swell of their child, peacefully at rest, Darcy devotedly worshipped. He loved her belly, firm in its expansion yet remarkably soft; the outward shape changing as the baby shifted or as she moved. Each time they loved he asked if it was uncomfortable, especially with his large frame on top, but she insisted all was well as of yet. He gloried in this, fervidly excited by the sensation of their child pressed into his abdomen when they made love. If the growing bulk intruded somewhat, it mattered little to him, the emotional rapture in this tangible evidence of their love far superior. Now, he kissed over the perfectly stretched flesh, licking her navel and making her giggle, kneading gently before traveling lower.