Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice Sequel Bundle: 3 Reader Favorites (175 page)

Lizzy sat at her vanity, Marguerite having been dismissed, absently brushing her hair as she smilingly recalled the evening’s events. There seemed no doubt all had enjoyed themselves, and therefore the night could only be credited as a resounding success.

Lost in her reverie, Elizabeth did not notice her spouse’s entrance until he gently took the brush from her hand and assumed the task. She smiled brightly at his reflection in the mirror. He loved to brush her hair, so his usurping was rapidly becoming a sort of ritual. Lizzy closed her eyes and sighed with contentment.

“It was a successful evening, wouldn’t you agree, William?”

“Unquestionably. Our guests were well fed and marvelously entertained. I harbored no doubts whatsoever that the Mistress of Pemberley would triumph admirably.”

“Thank you, love, however, I deem that a greater portion of the acclamation should go to Mrs. Reynolds and the rest of Pemberley’s outstanding staff. And no small amount of praise to you, dear husband.”

“I? Elizabeth, I did nothing but attend and partake.”

“Nonsense. You were a gracious host and stunned us all by your performance on the violin.” She looked at him then via the mirror with a playful lift of her lips. “You misrepresented the truth, dear husband. With only one brandy consumed you dazzled us with your skill. I was amazed and delighted, despite your previous assertions to the contrary!”

Darcy blushed and remained silent. Lizzy’s smile broadened. “So tell me about the
one time
at Cambridge and what
influences
were necessary.”

Darcy winced and then briskly put down the brush, patted his wife’s shoulder, and seriously pronounced it was time for bed, becoming all ‘Master of Pemberley’ as Lizzy called it, as he strode solemnly from the room. Lizzy laughed gaily and chased him, cornering him by the fire. He valiantly attempted to dissuade her, but between tickling and pretend pouting, she finally forced him to capitulate and sink onto the edge of the bed.

Passing a hand over his face, he mumbled, “Perhaps when I am in my dotage, I will live this down.” He glared at his grinning wife, “You really want to hear this?” She nodded and he groaned.

“During my years at University, there were only three times I… overly indulged, shall we say. The last was one month prior to the end of my stay. Some thirty of the lads threw a farewell party of sorts for me, Lathrop, and a few other gents who were finishing as well. Sometime toward the wee hours of the morning, when we were all far into our cups, someone, I do not know whom, which is just as well as I probably later would have murdered him, brilliantly decided that music was in order. Instruments of all sorts materialized from Lord knows where. I think I was the only one present at the time who had some musical talent, although it aided me naught in the state I was in.”

He paused and groaned again, putting his face in his hands. “We thought we were marvelous and played for hours, so the story goes. Frankly, few of us remember any of it.” He started laughing into his hands. “So stellar we credited our abilities that serenading the entire compound seemed a good plan, so we took our genius to the streets. The Dean dubbed us the ‘Squealing Pig Orchestra’ and immortalized us by creating a plaque with all our names on it. To this day it hangs in the Hall of Records and probably will long after I am dead.”

Lizzy was laughing so hard she was breathless. Darcy grabbed her and tossed her onto the bed. “You owe me now, Mrs. Darcy, and you shall pay.”

He tickled her mercilessly, head to toe, revealing sensitive zones she hadn’t known existed. Arousal was guaranteed and abundantly welcomed. Darcy’s arousal, in fact, and Lizzy’s assistance in heightening his state were the incentives necessary to cease his tickling torture. The playful mood reigned as they nibbled with titillating bites, stimulated with romantic pinches and squeezes, and beguiled with amorous kisses.

Each day their lovemaking changed, evolving to new heights of delight as they learned more about their own bodies’ responses and how to control their passions. Darcy, as the leader in most instances, had discovered a stamina and mastery he would not have thought achievable a month ago. On occasion their ardor overwhelmed them and they willingly and gleefully relented to their consuming need. However, usually they desired to prolong the act, reveling in the intoxication of a protracted interlude as their urges amplified leisurely. The resulting release was not necessarily superior, but their unions always intense and gratifying, and the steady nature of an unhurried pace led to a fulfillment as prolonged and languid as the journey itself.

Such it was tonight. Their afternoon assignation had so tremendously satisfied them that now there was none of the previous urgency. Their passion built gradually, their desire tender and nurturing, and their devotion, reverence, and faithfulness overruling their lust. Caressing ceaselessly and kissing temperately, they reached a release that was extended and joyous, flowing over them in soft, soothing waves, and leaving them trembling and awash in profound emotions of serenity and belonging and security.

They nestled close, gripped by their love and happiness. Lizzy kissed Darcy’s chest just as she drifted into sleep and he tightened his arms about her, kissing her head and smiling with contentment. “I love you, Elizabeth,” he murmured as sleep claimed him.

A
S THE LONG YEARS
unfolded, the Darcys would experience a multitude of Christmases at Pemberley. Some would be intimate family affairs, and on other occasions the manor would be overflowing. In time, their children and the children of relatives would exponentially boost the festivities. The traditional Darcy feast for the tenants would resume and occur annually for decades. The Darcy heirlooms would proudly regain their historic locales, along with the candles and greenery and ribbons eventually further augmented by the Christmas tree. The vast majority of the holidays would be joyous gatherings with delightful memories, such as the year Lizzy’s birth sac burst while kissing her husband under the kissing bough on Christmas Eve and the year their eldest daughter became betrothed during the Cole’s Masque. Thankfully the somber years were infrequent, the saddest being the first season after Mr. Bennet passed, although it would also mark the only time all the Bennet sisters managed to gather at the same time.

In truth, this particular Christmas would not necessarily be counted preeminent, yet through the blissful years of their life together, Lizzy and Darcy would agree that it held a very special place in their hearts. The reason was simple: it was their first.

Christmas Eve dawned cold with ominous dark clouds threatening despite having dropped fresh snow in the night. All the guests were slow to rise,
preferring to stay snuggled under warm blankets. As there were no particular plans for the morning hours, it mattered not. The Darcys, as host and hostess, strove to attend to their duties and so departed their chambers far earlier than they wished or had grown accustomed to. Darcy held Lizzy’s hand in the crook of his arm as they walked.

Abruptly Darcy stopped, causing Lizzy to collide with him, but prior to her uttering a sound, he propelled her backwards into an empty side corridor.

“What…” she began but he shushed her with a hiss and a finger to her lips.

“The Lathrops,” he whispered, pointing and cautiously sticking his head around the corner. Lizzy peered around his shoulder and stifled a laugh at the sight before her. At the bottom of the stairs, Mr. and Mrs. Lathrop had discovered one of the strategically positioned mistletoe balls and were dutifully obliging the custom.

“What shall we do now?” Lizzy asked her husband with a grin. At roughly the same moment, they looked upward and noted that they too were precisely under another mistletoe ornament.

“How many of these baubles did the maids fabricate, anyway?”

“I believe they were considering all the places the footmen frequent,” Lizzy said with a chuckle.

“Whatever the motivation, it is a ritual with historic dictates that we would be severely remiss to not observe.” Darcy stated firmly, capturing his wife’s mouth equally as firmly in an ardent kiss.

It must have been the day for espying lovers beneath mistletoe, for Col. Fitzwilliam’s chambers were down this very hallway and, with a chuckle, he ducked back into his room and busied himself until he deemed the corridor was clear.

The Pemberley occupants drifted into the breakfast room in spaced interludes throughout the morning, all with smiles on their faces and some with flushed cheeks and downcast eyes. Mrs. Langton and her fine staff had outdone themselves. The morning repast was stupendous with every imaginable type of breakfast cuisine. Mr. Gardiner had readily ascertained, as only a rabid angler can, that Mr. Lathrop shared his penchant for the avocation. Darcy assured them that the trout and other fish well stocked in the lake would happily acquiesce despite the half-frozen water. With obvious zeal, the two men quit the table, not to be seen until late in the afternoon.

The ladies decided a walk was in order. Darcy frowned, noting the
persistent gloom and foreboding clouds as well as the slick pathways. He attempted to dissuade them, but Lizzy was insistent.

“We shall take care, Mr. Darcy, I promise. You need not vex yourself,” Lizzy assured him.

“Georgiana,” he turned to his sister, “I will trust you to keep to the safest paths closest to the house.” He glanced at his wife’s faintly scowling visage, pointedly ignoring her and declaring to the group in general in a tone which booked no argument, “Miss Darcy is most familiar with the walkways and knows which are best maintained and level. Please follow her lead.”

Assuring that Georgiana and his wife were properly attired, Darcy pulled Lizzy aside. He buttoned her coat for her as he whispered, “Be careful, love, and return if it begins to snow or rain. Promise me.”

“William, you are being silly,” she began but he cut her off with a piercing look, eyes darkening somewhat, and that small crease of annoyance flashing between his brows.

“Elizabeth Darcy, do not argue with me. Stay with Georgiana.”

“Yes, dear.”

Once outside, Aunt Gardiner turned to her niece with a smile. “Mr. Darcy certainly is protective.”

“Too much so at times, yet it is endearing; irritating but endearing!” They all laughed. Lizzy related their honeymoon luncheon experience and they laughed even harder.

Georgiana spoke then, in her quiet voice, “My brother has always hovered in this manner. I do believe nothing frightens him other than the thought of someone he loves being hurt. He still refuses to allow me to take my horse out without a groom shadowing me even though I have been riding since I was five!”

“I am afraid you are a more tolerant lass than I,” said Mrs. Lathrop, “I confess to being a bit of a rebel. My parents turned gray over my antics. Do you ever defy him, Miss Darcy?”

Georgiana was genuinely shocked. “Never!”

Despite Darcy’s concerns, the ladies had a lovely walk through the snow- dusted gardens. Georgiana proved to be an excellent tour guide, pointing out with amazing knowledge the plant and tree varieties. They lingered for a short rest at the water nymph fountain and then Georgiana unerringly ushered them through the hedge maze.

While they rambled, they babbled together serenely. Mrs. Gardiner and Georgiana happily conversed about Lambton and its environs as Violet remembered them from her youth, including her memories of Georgiana’s parents. Lizzy and Mrs. Lathrop established a friendship that would persevere throughout their lives.

“How did you and Mr. Lathrop meet?”

Amelia smiled sweetly. “His family has interest in a sheep farm near Motherwell. My father is a baron of the region, and we were introduced when my father invited Mr. Lathrop to dine with us. It was love at first sight; however, my father required a bit of persuading! He was not too content with the idea of his daughter marrying a Sassenach.” They laughed. “He eventually consented, yet I do not believe he shall be entirely resigned until I have presented him with a grandchild or two.”

“How do you find Leicestershire, compared to Scotland?”

“Have you ever been to Scotland, Mrs. Darcy?”

“No, I have not been so fortunate.”

“It is far colder there. Rainier and very green with heathers and mosses in abundance. I mourn the absence of certain trees and flowers that only grow there. Mostly, though I miss my family. I have two older brothers and three younger sisters. Our house was perpetually loud and raucous. I never imagined I would miss it, but I do.”

“I understand how you feel. I have four sisters and spent much of my time escaping to the solitude and silence of the woods and meadows. Pemberley is beautiful and I love it here, yet it is imposing compared to Longbourn where I grew up, and very quiet. It is pleasant to have people in the house.”

“Even if we are disrupting your honeymoon?” Mrs. Lathrop said with a gentle laugh.

Lizzy blushed prettily. “Merely a brief hiatus, I think. The honeymoon shall continue unabated for a long while, I trust.”

“It is a delight to have made a ‘love match,’ is it not, Mrs. Darcy? I have learned that love often does not enter into the arrangements among the upper classes of England. This was a shock to me as these social considerations are not as important to the Scottish. Mr. Lathrop broke more than a few rules in marrying me, and his father did not approve.”