Undoing

by L. L. Diamond

  With bright eyes, she untied the ribbon on the front of her shift and drew back enough to let it drop to the floor. “My body is not the same as before Alexander.”

  His eyes roved over every inch of every curves. Her hips had widened a little, and she now bore a few faint scars on her lower abdomen. Those had appeared in the last fortnight before Alexander was born. “I see nothing disagreeable. These reminders only serve to render you lovelier than you were. They are the remnants of your love for me, and for Alexander, and that you brought him into this world. I could never think of them as anything but an embellishment that adds to your beauty.”

  “You are full of pretty words this evening.” She helped him pull away his dressing gown. He had not worn a stitch of clothing underneath, but since he never had in the past, she had not been shocked.

  “Not any longer,” he said, taking her lips with his own. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed, releasing her from their kiss long enough to drop her directly into the middle of the mattress.

  “Fitzwilliam!”

  He laughed and covered her body with his, savouring the feel of her soft breasts as they flattened against his chest, the slight sting of her fingernails as they dug into his arms, and the strength of her legs as they wrapped around his waist and held him tight.

  As his lips trailed along her neck, suckling that spot he had once marked and wished to mark again, her breathing hitched. “I want you. I need you. Pray do not make me wait.”

  His teeth gritted together at her pleading. He had done no more than touch her breast, but his body was begging even more than she was. “Are you certain?”

  “I am not a fearful maiden, my love. I have given birth to your son.”

  He certainly could not argue with her. He slid home while he blinked back tears. She was his—finally and truly his in every sense of the word. He had always been consumed by Elizabeth when they loved one another, yet that strength of passion was nothing to tonight. He could not prevent it from completely enveloping him—not that he had any intentions of trying.

  “I love you,” she whispered with her hands on his cheeks.

  “I love you so much.” He kissed her and pressed his forehead to hers. It was too good, and it had been too long. “I cannot wait for you. ’Tis too much.”

  “Then let go.” Her hands found his rear and pulled him in hard.

  Her words and actions tipped him over the edge. With a cry, he found his release, his eyes squeezing shut as he nearly floated outside of himself, rushed back, and collapsed. His breath came in pants as he recovered. “I wanted you to find your pleasure too.”

  Soft lips trailed along his neck before she lightly bit where his shoulder and neck joined. “This will not be the one and only time we shall love each other. You will simply have to ensure you think more of me next time.”

  He nipped at the side of her breast, laughing at the arch tone she used. “Trust me. The problem was that I have thought of you for too long without being able to touch you.” He kissed her soundly. “How are you, Mrs. Darcy?”

  “Quite well, Mr. Darcy.”

  He admired how she looked right after they made love, her hair tousled, her eyes soft, and her cheeks a faint pink. It only made him want her again. His lips claimed hers and lingered, savouring her as he had not been able for what seemed like years. With no need to rush, he caressed and stroked her mouth and tongue until his jaw ached and he hardened once more.

  “Well, Mrs. Darcy?”

  She smiled and stroked him from base to tip. “I hope Alexander sleeps late in the morning. I suspect we shall be rather tired on the morrow.”

  He laughed and returned home. This was perfect—Elizabeth was perfect. He only needed to take care of James, so they could return to Pemberley and be together without worry or the possibility of some threat looming. The problem remained of what he could do to ensure his desires became their reality. They had just been granted their ultimate wish. They merely needed to clear the path to their long and happy future.

  After eating a late breakfast with Elizabeth, Fitzwilliam answered Carlisle’s request for his presence in the study. Elizabeth needed to feed Alexander, so she remained within their chambers, which suited Fitzwilliam well because he had business he wished to complete without disturbing her equanimity.

  He entered Carlisle’s study, but did not pause at the sight of James Osborne standing by the fireplace. On the contrary, he and Carlisle had summoned him. “Good morning, Mr. Osborne.” As soon as Fitzwilliam bowed, he clasped his hands behind his back.

  “I am at a loss as to why you are here,” said James before pressing his lips together so his face was pinched, rather resembling a rat. “I requested an audience with Elizabeth.”

  Carlisle stepped beside Fitzwilliam. “Your address of my sister is rather familiar considering you have never made her acquaintance. You do not have the particular acquaintance that would bestow the privilege of addressing her so intimately.”

  Fitzwilliam hardened his expression. “I agree, Cousin.”

  James’s expression only became more pinched. “I do not have a care for what the two of you think. I requested an audience with her, and she is not here. If you do not produce her, I will not sit by idly. I will have my say.”

  “Why do you wish to see her?” said Fitzwilliam, who stepped to position himself in front of the door.

  “’Tis no business of yours.” The words came out spat rather than in the congenial tone one would expect when making a request in the home of another.

  Fitzwilliam shrugged as casually as he could manage. “On the contrary, any request made of Her Grace is of the dearest concern to me. I was appointed in your uncle’s will to ensure her well-being as well as that of her son’s—” He had no wish to reveal their marriage yet. Without that knowledge, James might reveal his motivation for seeking out Elizabeth sooner than he would otherwise.

  “As if that old prune fathered a child.” His chuckle was harsh and dangerous. “I do not know who she bedded—probably some footman—but it was not my uncle.”

  “I always thought Leeds favoured his Darcy heritage more than the Osborne,” said Carlisle, as though he were commenting off-hand to his mother or father or even Jane. “What say you of his son’s appearance, Darcy? Does Alexander resemble the Darcys as much as Leeds?”

  “Most certainly,” said Fitzwilliam. “I believe there are few who would deny the connection once they have set eyes on the boy. Thus far, Mr. Osborne, you have neglected to tell us what you want with Her Grace.”

  Carlisle crossed his arms over his chest and thrust a leg forward. “You will not set one eye on the lady without telling us, so you may as well give up any notion of privacy. She does know of your desire to speak to her and has intimated that she will not do so without knowledge of your intentions. She has enlisted our aid with that endeavour.”

  “She has no reason to distrust me.” James’s eyes darted back and forth between Carlisle and Fitzwilliam, making Fitzwilliam’s insides tremble. If they discomposed James enough, would he reveal his intentions?

  “She has every reason to be suspicious of you,” said Fitzwilliam. “You have amassed a considerable debt that, on your income, will take you a lifetime to repay. Your uncle knew of your habits. He informed his wife of them as he learnt them. Before his death, I also helped my cousin hire an investigator to follow you, so we knew your every movement. If you are here to apply for money, she will not pay for your mistakes. You had best look elsewhere.”

  “She and her brat have robbed me of my birthright.” The words were uttered through clenched teeth with his hands in tight fists at his sides. “I would not be living hand to mouth if she had kept her legs closed for whatever imbecile she bedded.”

  “Your birthright? Before Alexander, you only would have inherited the ducal properties since my cousin did not want you to completely destroy his legacy. He knew once the reins of his estate were handed over to you, you would have used whatever
funds were on hand to pay your gambling debts, then squandered the remaining at the card tables and on horses.” Fitzwilliam stepped closer but held fast to his hands behind his back lest he strike the man. “You have no one to blame for your present circumstances but yourself. If you had listened to Thomas years ago when he attempted to warn you regarding your manner of living, you would likely still have an allowance or had some money provided in his will. As you well know, he withdrew his support of you when he wed. I know your father provided you some money. After all, an admiral in the Navy does well enough. Perhaps you should follow in your father’s footsteps. I believe Thomas would have been happy to purchase you a commission. I could perhaps persuade Her Grace—”

  “A commission?” James cried, his face turning a crimson colour as though he held his breath before he shouted, “Why would I wish to do such a thing when I could simply wed that whore he left behind? She parted her pretty legs for someone. I could bed her at night and pay my debts!”

  Fitzwilliam’s hands flew from behind his back and grabbed James by his lapels, forcing him across the room until his back rammed against the wall. “You can hardly wed the lady when she has already married me. Carlisle and I suspected your motivation. Did you think either of us would allow you to harm her in such a way—harm Alexander in such a way?”

  James struggled against Fitzwilliam’s hold, yet the man was smaller and considerably weaker. “She is a bunter—a filthy doxy who has stolen what was mine!”

  “The estate was never yours,” said Fitzwilliam, knocking him back against the wall while he said it. “You should mind your tone. I shall challenge you if you continue to speak of her thus. Her conduct and demeanour are worth more than one thousand times your degenerate, filthy soul.” Fitzwilliam’s voice was dangerously low. His blood simmered while his pulse pounded mercilessly in his ears. He could not allow James anywhere near Elizabeth lest he harm her. No doubt existed in his mind that James would do so if afforded the opportunity.

  “Do you not know that I have naught to lose.” James’s laugh was high and maniacal. “I cannot say I am surprised that laced mutton refused to honour her mourning, but like my uncle, you probably do not know one end of a woman from the other.” He smirked and leaned his face into Fitzwilliam’s. “You were always too much of a prig at Cambridge, were you not?”

  “Sabres or pistols?” A hand squeezed Fitzwilliam’s shoulder, but he only shrugged it off. He would ensure Elizabeth and Alexander’s safety once and for all. James had never been much at fencing and his aim had always been dreadful. His laziness meant he would choose pistols.

  “Pistols,” said James with a sneer.

  “Very well. Tomorrow on the field by the bridge heading towards Meryton. You must have a second. I select Carlisle. Who will be presiding officer?”

  After a groan, Carlisle put his hand on Fitzwilliam’s shoulder. “Perhaps Mr. Bennet will consent.”

  As Fitzwilliam released James, shoving him firmly against the wall one more time, the wastrel straightened his topcoat. “I do not object.”

  “Then leave,” said Carlisle, “and do not return.”

  “Oh, I shall return.” James practically sauntered towards the door. “Once I have won, I will return for Elizabeth.”

  Carlisle grabbed Fitzwilliam’s arm and held him in place. “Do not do it. You have already risen to his bait. Do not give him further satisfaction.”

  The door closed, and Fitzwilliam still shook.

  “Are you a simpleton?”

  Fitzwilliam blinked and shook his head. “I beg your pardon?”

  “After all of this time, you finally marry Lizzy, and the day after your wedding, you challenge James to a duel. You must be daft.” Carlisle gave a high-pitched bark and covered his face while he shook his head.

  “James would not hesitate to harm them.” He turned on the spot and began to pace across the carpet. “Did you not hear him? I have no doubt he would marry Lizzy, then kill them both. They would disappear, and he would claim some travesty or another. I cannot allow that.”

  Carlisle scrubbed his face with his hands and shoved his fingers through his hair. “Yet, you have married Lizzy, which means he cannot implement that plan unless he wins this duel. You have played right into his hands.” He sighed and dropped into his chair. “I shall send for Mr. Bennet. I do not wish to make this request by letter. I shall need to find a surgeon.”

  Fitzwilliam paused in his pacing and pointed at Carlisle. “You must not tell Lizzy. I do not want her to know.”

  His cousin’s lax jaw showed how he felt about such a request. “How is that fair to her? She might never forgive me for keeping such information from her.”

  “She will fret. If he does kill me, I would prefer she not be waiting for it.”

  “If you return,” said Carlisle with his eyebrows lifted, “she might kill you herself.”

  “She very well might, but at least, she will be safe.”

  “How is that?” Carlisle raised his eyebrows before he stood and began pacing himself. “You cannot kill him lest you be charged with murder. Is wounding him or making him cower truly going to prevent him from further mischief? I do not doubt he would kill you.” He paused for a moment before he groaned. “I believe his humiliation would only make him worse.”

  “I must try,” said Fitzwilliam.

  “I do not trust him or Richard, who is likely to be his second. You do realise this?”

  Fitzwilliam sat on the sofa and propped his elbows on his thighs. “I expect no other to be his second. Richard is nearby, he has always resented the two of us for being first sons, and they are friends.”

  He watched as Carlisle sank into the chair facing him. “As much as I want to throttle you for this, a part of me does understand. Go spend time with your wife and your son. I do not want to see you before the morning.”

  They both rose and Fitzwilliam stepped forward to hug Carlisle, slapping him on the back. “Thank you, brother.”

  “Do not do this or I will cry.”

  With a smile at his cousin’s melodramatic tone, Fitzwilliam turned and headed for the door. “I shall tell Bishop to wake me early. Thank you.”

  “Do not thank me unless you have survived. Otherwise, I shall tell Lizzy everything that was to be done was done by you.”

  “James is a crap shot.”

  “He might get lucky. Do not discount him.”

  Fitzwilliam opened the door and glanced back at his cousin one last time. “I have to believe the luck will be mine. He cannot win.”

  His cousin’s voice carried through as Fitzwilliam began ascending the stairs. “He had best not, or I shall kill you myself!”

  Chapter 28

  Mist clung to the ground, creating a haze that likely carried for miles if one could see that far through the gloom. The sun had just broken the horizon giving that ghostly white blanket an almost eerie glow. A horse blew noisily from his nose, breaking the silence that in all probability stretched as far as the mist.

  Fitzwilliam’s rigid muscles pulsed as though they might almost burst from his skin. The hardest part of this was dragging himself from the bed he shared with Elizabeth—separating himself from the warmth of her naked flesh, curled under the coverlet, only to stand in the cold to wait for James and Richard.

  “You picked a damned of a morning for this, Darcy,” said Carlisle.

  “I simply wanted it done.” He stepped forward and pivoted around to Mr. Bennet, his cousin, as well as the former army surgeon Carlisle had located in a neighbouring village. “It is sunrise. How long do we give him?”

  The surgeon glanced around at his companions before he cleared his throat. “I would give him an hour, or he could call you a coward.”

  “I must give you credit.” Mr. Bennet snickered. “You thought of a solution not many would consider. You claim to love my daughter beyond reason, yet you challenge the man the day after the two of you are wed. One might think you wish to be free of her.” The three men stared
at him with their mouths slightly agape. He waved them off. “If only I had thought of this solution years ago. Alas, no one would challenge me for Mrs. Bennet, and she is so fearful of the hedgerows, she might fight the duel for me.”

  Carlisle rolled his eyes as a faint rhythm gradually gained in volume until they turned at a horse’s gallop across the hard ground. Another mount followed close behind. Richard wore his uniform, though he had not been with his regiment for some time.

  James dismounted and pulled away his gloves and greatcoat. Fitzwilliam followed suit until they were both standing in their waistcoats and lawn shirts.

  While he prepared himself, Carlisle and Richard spoke, examining the duelling pistols and preparing them. Mr. Bennet watched, his face rather pale and suddenly more serious than Fitzwilliam had ever seen him.

  “James has no wish to concede,” said Carlisle as he approached. “And the blunderbuss insists upon firing the weapon before the duel to ensure we have not given him a faulty pistol.” They both jumped at the crack of the matching flintlock firing. James handed his pistol to Richard, who began reloading it.

  Nicholas handed Fitzwilliam his pistol and slapped him on the shoulder. “Do not step off your mark. As long as he misses, your honour is satisfied.”

  Fitzwilliam nodded, swallowed hard, and strode over to stand nearly back to back with James. Before he was truly ready, they stepped from their starting point away from each other and marched fifteen paces. The entire process was like an odd dream. He could not help but think of Alexander, and how he almost seemed to know Fitzwilliam was his true father—how he was never frightened of him despite their separations over the past months. His mind then turned to memories of the night before with Elizabeth, how petal soft her skin felt under his fingers, her high intake of breath when he found that certain spot when he loved her, and her sweet voice whispering her love for him.