My Dearest Mr. Darcy: An Amazing Journey Into Love Everlasting (49 page)

Darcy laughed too. "I can confidently proclaim that Elizabeth is ready to
not
be pregnant."

George snuffed the cigar stub under his boot heel, not meeting his nephew's eyes. "At this point I would suggest embracing any activities that may elicit labor. I believe our mounts have rested. Race you back to the manor?" With identical grins they called to their horses.

Later that night Lizzy reclined on the sitting room sofa, propped comfortably on two plump pillows with her aching feet actively being massaged by her adoring husband. She read aloud while Darcy rubbed, squirming intermittently to ease the persistent strain on her lower back.

"Is your back paining you, my love?"

"
Your
son seems determined to kick me in the kidneys!"

Darcy laughed, patting her feet before he removed them off his lap. Falling to his knees aside the sofa, he scooted to her torso, placing his strong hands behind her back. He pressed hard, circular motions with firm fingertips over the lumbar regions next to her spine.

"Relax and close your eyes," he commanded gently, but she already had her head thrown back onto the pillow and was vocalizing sounds of satisfaction. He observed her with a happy smile, kneading steadily and leaning into her neck to bestow soft kisses. Nibbling to her earlobe, he murmured lowly, "Dr. Darcy and I had an interesting talk today about babies and delivery."

"Do I have you to thank for stopping the daily tea doses?"

"Partially, although he made that decision himself. His professional opinion, as he shared with you during dinner, is that our son could arrive at any time if he so desired. He even went so far as to suggest we pray for a speedy resolution to your discomfort and gave me ideas as to ways of hastening the initiation."

He withdrew from her neckline, meeting her eyes with a twinkle, one hand traveling from her back to breast with gentle caresses.

"Are you certain you understood?"

"Quite certain." He cupped one breast, holding tenderly as he continued, "Elizabeth, I love you so intensely and want to please you, and me as well I will admit. However, if you do not feel able or interested, all considered, I do understand. My only true desire is to show you my love for you in whatever manner, even if it is embracing you and nothing else."

Lizzy smiled, reaching up wordlessly to stroke his perfect face. She feathered over his forehead, brows, eyes, noble nose, to jaw and lips. Lightly grasping his chin with two fingers, she pulled him toward her until his lips were a scant breath away from hers.

"Fitzwilliam," she breathed, "love me."

He released a soft moan when she encompassed his mouth, searching and seeking possessively. How heavenly it is to love one's spouse wholeheartedly, body and soul, without encumbrances. Naturally accommodations were essential due to Lizzy's greatly expanded abdomen, but only in the final moments of their lovemaking. Before sleep claimed them, warm and blissfully satiated in their mammoth four-poster bed, they would love hard and with a joy of surrender.

Bare bodies nestled all night in the way it was meant to be, as far as they were concerned anyway. The reality that their child would arrive soon, whether as a result of this session of love or mere time, meant that the beautiful swell created by his presence would soon be gone. Darcy took advantage of the ability to caress freely in the days ahead, always enamored by the miracle of her stretched flesh as their baby moved. Their child would not be fazed by the vigorous activity of his parents, opting to stay cocooned and grow a bit more.

Lizzy's increasing girth, fatigue, and irritability were not always conducive to frequent periods of lovemaking, but they managed to satisfy each other frequently enough over the subsequent days for neither to feel ignored or ungratified. In many respects the prime joy was in the long cold nights when nude limbs were entwined with dainty bare back pressed into hard, naked, and very hot planes of a manly chest, fingers laced, and breath tickling shoulders as they talked quietly about diverse subjects and then slept deeply.

One such subject involved Darcy's uncle.

Georgiana's and Lizzy's sincere love for George had assuredly grown, and the thought of him leaving was increasingly a cause of distress. Yet neither could claim the intensity of emotion that Darcy now held for his uncle. Only Lizzy was privy to the innermost thoughts of her husband, and over numerous late night conversations as they snuggled he revealed the depth of his affection.

"I know it will not be precisely the same as when my father died," he said on one such night as they lay entwined, referring to George's probable departure once the baby was born. "After all, he will not be permanently gone. We can exchange correspondence of a far more familiar nature than we ever did before, and there will be the hope that he may return someday. I can prepare my heart in a way that I obviously never did with my father. Yet, on the other hand, I was still so young when he died. It was years before I fully grasped what I had lost and by then the pain was dulled and I had grown accustomed to his absence."

He paused, staring unseeing at the beamed ceiling and absently caressing Lizzy's arm, which rested over his chest. She observed his face in the flickering half-light and waited. "No, that is not the whole truth of it. It has only been
since
developing this relationship with George that I have come to fully grasp what I lost when Father died. It is not only that he reminds me of my father, because as akin as they are in many respects there are glaring differences. Nor is it that I desire a mentor or father figure in my life, although I do to a degree; but it is that I sense he needs me, needs all of us in fact." He turned to gaze upon his wife, fingering a lock of hair as he resumed in a husky tone. "For so long, when I allowed myself the luxury of dwelling nostalgically on Father, I always mused on what he meant to
me
. The benefits I would reap from his companionship, how wonderful it would be to watch our children with their grandfather, and so on. Always egocentric. I never looked at it from the perspective of what
he
lost by not knowing me, or you, or our children."

He kissed her forehead, nestling a cheek against her silky hair. "I know George misses his work and the many friends he has in India. He speaks fondly of Jharna's boys, who are grown men now, and expresses sadness at the distance now between them."

"Well, that would be expected, I suppose, as he helped raise them."

"Hmmm. He can be guarded at times with his emotions. Quick to blurt a quip when the subject grows sensitive, even with me. He sidesteps with a joke or broad gesture, but not always. Besides, he is too like me to camouflage completely. It is clear that it is the loss of loved ones that distresses him the most. The honest affection he feels for us has taken him aback, I believe, and he fears trusting it or giving in to it. I understand this as well as I experienced the same anxiety when I fell in love with you." He kissed her again before continuing.

"All his visits in the past have been no longer than a month and he was restless the entire time. He would be lax and nonchalant, but usually with a coiled energy that is not currently as evident. I am not quite sure what to make of it, but I hope it is because he is content and willing to stay for a while longer."

In truth, Darcy greatly prayed his uncle would stay forever. Not only did he now yearn for him to deliver their baby, but he also yearned for the camaraderie of the older man that unearthed long-buried memories and vacancies. His father had been mentally and emotionally absent from the time of Darcy's mother's death when Darcy was seventeen, and physically departed months after Darcy turned twenty-two. The empty years prevented the companionship and friendship Darcy knew would have evolved between he and his father if events had unfolded differently. As much as he cared for his Uncle Malcolm, there was a formality attached and, of course, Lord Matlock had two sons.

With George it was entirely different. George was so incredibly like James Darcy in personality that at times Darcy blinked and mentally shook his head at the sensations evoked. It was spooky. Yet deeply fulfilling.

"You should tell him how you feel," Lizzy gently encouraged. "Perhaps he needs to know how intensely you love him. He has been alone for most of his adult life, wandering without a family or home. And now Jharna is gone. Maybe he needs to know he is wanted and special."

"What you say is likely true, yet how does one say such a thing to another man? I am at a loss."

"You will know when the time is right. God will guide you in how best to express your love for him."

He pulled away, burrowing lower under the covers until at eye level with her. Smiling, caressing gently down her side and around to fondle the swollen expanse of belly, he continued in a familiar hoarse tone, "Such all-consuming, powerful emotions can be terrifying. Oh, but the bliss of potent love! Nothing compares and any eventual grief is tempered by the unsurpassed joy. George knows this, has experienced this, and merely needs to succumb to it happening again with us."

"Stop that!" she exclaimed with a giggle, swatting his fingers away from her protruding navel.

"But it is so cute and fun. Poking out and begging to be tickled." He nudged her hand away and resumed the play with a grin.

"Fitzwilliam Darcy, I am warning--" But he halted her with a kiss, fingers abandoning the springy flesh to roam lower. Discussions of complex relatives were forgotten for the time being.

Time seemed to drag. Nothing changed, aside from the weather, and every occupant of the Manor waited for early December when the new Darcy would make his, or her, appearance.

Lizzy tried to ignore the close scrutiny, but it frequently peeved her. She felt as if she were under a microscope. If she twitched or sighed or shifted suddenly, everyone in the room froze and glanced her way. They tried to hide the reaction and careful monitoring, but were largely unsuccessful. For the first time since marrying Darcy she breathed in relief when he left for some dangerous occupation in the stable yard. The footmen, once so amazingly talented at remaining invisible, were now conspicuously present at strategic locales like staircase landings. The maids strangely discovered filthy or tarnished furnishings in whatever room Lizzy happened to be occupying. Georgiana became a worse shadow than George, more of a conjoined twin in how closely she hovered.

The annoyance of it all, augmented considerably by how physically miserable she felt, escalated her foul temper. None were safe from her sharp tongue. Lizzy spent endless hours of the day in fervent prayer that her stubborn child, once so intent on arriving early, would again decide that December was far too long to wait. Frankly, the entire family was praying for the same and not only because they were anxious to meet the newest Darcy!

One night in late November, Darcy roused slightly to note his arms empty. He reached groggily, hands sliding over the faint indentation beside him. The awake portion of his brain fuzzily assumed she had risen to visit the water closet, a frequent incident, and drifted back to sleep. It was several hours later before he again rose from the clutches of comatose slumber to note the vacancy in his arms. An internal clock of some kind recognized that it had been far too long without her to be a mere trip for bladder relief.

Struggling against the tendrils of sleep attempting to ensnare him, Darcy shook his head and crawled across the expanse of cooled sheets to pull the curtains back. Peeking drowsy eyes through the crack, he scanned the room and finally noted Elizabeth sitting on the sofa before the fireplace, logs nothing but smoldering embers.