My Dearest Mr. Darcy: An Amazing Journey Into Love Everlasting (17 page)

"It will likely be busier where we are staying, so we should enjoy this time."

"Not necessarily. Mr. Vernor said the inn is secluded near a private cove. The guests are allotted individual periods to bathe, if desired, or merely gaze into the sea. Of course, we will be visiting other areas more public, but I chose this place for that reason. He also said the dining parlors overlook the ocean. We can dine and watch for sea creatures or ships passing." He paused, drawing Lizzy into his arms and leaning for a kiss.

They held each other tightly in silence, contentedly watching the surf and inhaling the fresh, crisp air as the sun lowered in the west.

W
ILLIAM."

He turned at the sound of her voice, scenery of sunset over the water forgotten in a millisecond by the exquisite vision before his eyes. She wore a new gown of aquamarine satin, the skirt bordered with rouleaux of twining lace and roses; a velvet navy-blue spencer with short capped sleeves trimmed with wide, white lace accenting her bosom; gathers of satin falling in gentle folds over her swollen belly. The Kashmir shawl draped her fair shoulders, and a choker of blue velvet with a diamond pendant graced her slim neck. She was beautiful, glowing, and vibrant. Darcy was struck forcibly by how profound was his love and pride in squiring her as his.

He smiled, extending an arm with hand palm up. "Elizabeth, you are breathtaking. Come, beloved, watch the sun's setting glow upon the waves before it falls beyond the trees to the west." She joined him on the small balcony, Darcy encircling her waist and kissing her rosy cheek before resuming his study of the ocean.

A leisurely, halting drive along the coast had brought them to the enormous, sprawling building of rustic wooden beams and irregular stone that rested on a promontory roughly fifteen feet above the shore. Built over one hundred years ago, the lodge was once the seaside vacation dwelling of a now deceased viscount from Shropshire. Left without an immediate heir and financially depleted, the estate had been inherited by a distant cousin who wisely grasped onto the rising fashion of seaside bathing and avoiding Continental travel during the decades of wars. He transformed the gorgeous mansion into an elegant, opulent resort sought after by the gentry from all parts of England. Catering exclusively to the elite desiring a quiet recess from the cares of life, the woodsy seclusion, provincial charm, and luxurious furnishings created a wonderful combination highly praised among those wealthy enough to afford the accommodations.

Located a half mile south of Caister-on-Sea, the three-story-tall country house was nestled aside a sheltered stretch of beach secluded from the main shoreline by a natural rocky protrusion to the north and man-made wooden pier to the south. The pier was part of the resort, arising from an elevated, tree-lined bluff beyond the formal garden, and extending a hundred feet over the waves. The ornately designed formal garden and patio positioned near the pier also skirted the cliff's brink, providing a stunning view of the North Sea from the shade of canvas and leaves over plush chairs and settees. The bluff was surrounded by indigenous trees and bushes allowed to grow as nature intended with minimal purposeful landscaping interfering.

The individual suites were generous, well apportioned, and situated to grant adequate privacy from the fellow guests except for brief passes in the wide corridors. Ground floor public rooms that allowed for socializing and group dining if so desired were interspersed with intimate parlors and sheltered alcoves for personal privacy.

The Darcys had arrived late in the afternoon with no time to tour the elaborate environs or the opulent public rooms inside the house. With a planned sojourn of two weeks, they would have plenty of time to explore the resort's attributes. In fact, neither felt any rush at all, perfectly content to stand together on their ocean-facing balcony and observe the brilliant hues of scarlet, orange, and purple.

Lizzy rested her head against Darcy's upper arm with a sigh. "I have never seen such colors. Beautiful. Can we walk on the beach at night?"

"Certainly, although probably not wise in that gown. I would not wish to see it soiled overly. You are absolutely ravishing, my love," he finished in a low tone.

Lizzy slipped her arms over his shoulders, peering up into his face. "I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy. Thank you for the compliment and you are welcome to ravish later; however, now I am famished."

The approximately fifty current guests sat in various-sized groupings throughout the dining parlors, some electing to eat at solitary tables sequestered from strangers, but some desiring to sit in larger companies of friends or new acquaintances. Darcy, never overly comfortable in a large crowd of unknown individuals, had opted to dine with his wife in one of the private dining parlors at a single table secluded near the wall-spanning windows overlooking the bay. The food was marvelous, service elegant and superb, and atmosphere divine. Lizzy and Darcy gazed at each other over the candlelight, softly talking as they ate, and filled to bursting capacity with unrelenting love. A number of evening entertainments were scheduled and offered nightly for the lodgers, but for this night the Darcys wished to be alone, departing immediately upon finishing their meal and returning to their room. There they would stay, primarily in the comfortable bed, snuggling and loving and sleeping intermittently until well after sunrise.

"Need any assistance with removing your gown, Mrs. Darcy?"

"Stay over there, Mr. Darcy, as I am quite certain sea bathing would be delayed indefinitely if you aided my disrobing."

Darcy laughed, obeying his wife as he removed and carefully folded his waistcoat from where he sat on the narrow bench. Assist he may not do, but observe the stripping? Absolutely.

They were inside one of the resort's bathing machines Darcy reserved for an hour of private couples bathing. Naturally, despite his many excursions at coastal towns, this would be his first experience bathing with a woman, his adorable wife, the anticipation higher than any of the numerous times he swam with a troop of men.

He was impressed with the quality of bathing machine the resort offered. In point of fact, he was greatly impressed with all he had seen thus far, the remote and obscure tourist town well equipped and modern. The wide cove was divided into separate sectors for intimate bathing well away from the public areas for beach play. Furthermore, the machine usage was scheduled with segregated periods for married couples and for the individual sexes. Darcy planned to return later in the afternoon when the men bathed, already relishing what would be an extended span of intense swimming through the surf.

For now, however, he was thrilled to be here with Lizzy, introducing her to the joy of sea bathing. He only hoped he could control himself and allow her to truly enjoy the water. Watching her undress down to her shift and imagining how the thin garment would cling to her body once wet was not conducive to maintaining his restraint, Darcy swallowing and forcefully tearing his eyes away.

"I suppose he is safe and warm, untouchable by the cold water." Darcy glanced over, Lizzy standing with hands caressing her abdomen.

He smiled. "He is cocooned and protected, beloved, do not fear. The dippers all agreed, and you are not the first pregnant woman to bathe. Besides, the water is not all that cold. I think you shall find it refreshing. Are you ready?"

She nodded, eyes gazing over his naked form with equally decadent thoughts arising. "Are you certain we cannot be seen? I would rather no other see you in such a state."

Darcy laughed. "Fret not. I promise you, I would not permit you appearing in your shift if I thought there the slightest chance we would be visible to roving eyes! The canopy shall shield us. Now, sit on the bench and hold on while we move." She did as he instructed, Darcy pulling the lever to raise the outside flag. This was the signal for the driver to back the wheeled cabin into the water.

The so-called bathing machine had been around since the early 1700s, invented by Benjamin Beale. The concept was remarkably simple: a large wagon propelled by two horses with a canvas or wooden shed built on top; the interior generally consisted of shelves or closets to place one's clothing, a bench for sitting, and supplied with a stack of towels; one door in the front as the entrance, the backside open with steps to enter the water. A driver would direct the horses to back the wagon into the water then, in the case of private bathers, depart a safe distance until the flag was lowered as signal to withdraw the device from the water. Same-sex "dippers" were available to attend those persons who could not swim. This particular machine also sported an enormous tent off the back end to allow for added privacy.

Darcy jumped unhesitantly into the water, immediately diving completely under, swimming several clean strokes away, and surfacing with a splash. He turned to his wife with a grin, water running in rivers down his torso while he smoothed the wet hair off his brow. Lizzy waited on the top step, dangling one foot into the waves and admiring unabashedly. The water was waist high on Darcy, meaning that it would hit Lizzy well above her bulging abdomen. He waded back to her, snaking cold wet hands under her shift and clutching her inner thighs.

Lizzy gasped, jerking spasmodically. "You devil! Spawn of Satan as your aunt declared!"

Darcy merely laughed, grinning mischievously. "I thought you were brave, Elizabeth Darcy, fearless and adventurous. Was I in error in this assessment?" He climbed the steps, leaning his wet body against hers for a soggy kiss.

She squealed against his lips, wincing, but threw her arms over his shoulders and launched forward. Darcy was unbalanced in his surprise, both of them falling into the water. His strong legs stood fast on the sand, preventing Lizzy from being dunked, but the splashing water doused her adequately. She laughed and wheezed at the same time.

"Not that cold, he says! I beg to differ, sir!"

"Buck up, my lady. Be strong and..." His words halted by a forceful splash aimed precisely into his open mouth. Lizzy giggled and slithered away, walking on tiptoes over the shifting sand.

"Plainly unfair," he finally sputtered.

"Serves you right. Look, William, the bottom is so clear once the sand settles." She was staring into the water with rapt intensity, arms skimming over the surface. "I think I can... wait... let me see... Yes!" She bent slightly, reaching into the water and then raising her arm into the air with a shout of glee, a two-inch round rock in her hand. She looked at her smiling husband with pride. "Perfect balance and dexterity. Not bad for an obese whale. Here, a souvenir," and she tossed the small stone to Darcy, who caught it midair.

"What, pray tell, am I supposed to do with it?" He spread his arms widely, "If you have not noticed, I am unclothed. No pockets readily available."

Lizzy grinned, floating back to her husband, eyes raking over his form. "Oh yes, sir, I did notice you are unclothed. Of course, you are a man supremely noticeable whether clothed or not." She slipped her arms around his neck, nuzzling close, the rock discarded hastily as he enveloped her body. "Are you going to teach me how to float and swim, my beloved personal bathing instructor, or are we to continue discussing your nakedness? Either option appeals to me as they both involve your luscious body near mine." She nibbled his lobe, Darcy clutching her tightly with a heady sigh.

"Are you seducing me, Mrs. Darcy?"

"The thought did cross my mind, my lover. You assert we are utterly alone here."

"I cannot in good conscience renege on my vow to teach you to swim and float, however. All trust and confidence in my fidelity would be forfeit." His hands glided over her bottom, pulling her firmly against him. "I shudder to imagine what you would then think of me." He grinned, bending to bestow a thorough kiss lasting long enough to leave them both as breathless as if running a mile dash.