Darcy Saga 01 Mr. & Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy (49 page)

"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.