In the Arms of Mr. Darcy

by Sharon Lathan

  Cut into the gorge in 1815, the new coach road wound through the hills and strips of meadows, giving glimpses of the continually altering terrain below. They passed numerous lodges and bathhouses nestled among the trees, dozens of meandering footpaths through the wood and brush, and the occasional mineral incrustation formed by deposits from the springs that harden and decompose until covered by moss. It was a landscape both familiar due to common Derbyshire vegetation while also utterly unique.

  A final bend in the road and opening in the trees revealed the New Bath Hotel. So named simply because it was built in 1802 upon discovery of a newer and warmer spring—many years after the original lodge that was once just the Bath Hotel but was now referred to as the Old Bath Hotel—the massive white wood and brick structure of Regency design sat on a lush five-acre expanse surrounded by trees and sculptured gardens. As modern and prestigious as one could hope for in the lesser-known spa community of Matlock Bath, the hotel had a marvelous reputation for excellence. Plus, and even more important to Darcy than luxury at the moment, was the Roman-style bathing room large enough for swimming. And the waters themselves were reputedly higher in healing properties.

  Lizzy smiled, turning to her husband with shining eyes. “It is beautiful, William. Thank you for thinking of this.”

  He drew her close under his outstretched arm, boldly stealing a brief kiss and caressing over her cheek. “Anything to help you, dearest. I would have gone to Bath if need be, but fortunately, we are close to a spa far more private and less crowded.”

  He gazed into her eyes, noting the expression of love and joy that momentarily erased all traces of her lingering infirmity, and abruptly the romantic nature of their outing washed over him. By the sudden change in her face—lips parting slightly and half-lidded eyes straying to his mouth—it was clear that the identical thought had occurred to her. Unconsciously, he bent his head, meeting her upturned mouth eagerly. Alas, the kiss was interrupted by the carriage stopping with a jolt.

  Darcy frowned and Lizzy giggled. They shared a last, lingering look, communicating their need silently.

  Mr. Saxton, the owner, greeted them upon arrival. Darcy’s requests, made in advance by Mr. Keith in person and with large quantities of cash exchanged, were explicit. A suite on the first floor with private parlor and additional rooms for their servants, in-room dining when possible, limitless supplies of the curative drinking water, and frequent use of the baths. Fortunately, it was the slow season for tourists, but Mr. Darcy’s eminence and wealth were more than adequate to grant the requirements asked for.

  The intervening hours between settling in their comfortable and spacious if unadorned chambers and finally meeting in the basement bath were tortuous. Darcy resisted bodily tossing his wife onto the bed and ravishing her only because there were servants in and out. He also insisted she consume a full glass of the mineral water waiting in a large pitcher before they did anything. And of course, he did wish for her to rest and recuperate, thus not too sure how wise it would be to engage immediately in the exhaustive, vigorous session of lovemaking that he desired with a palpable ache. He knew his wife well enough to sense that she was struggling with the same yearning, both of them gripped with emotions akin to the heady days of their honeymoon when touching each other was at times quite all that they thought about! Any residual guilt they secretly harbored at being filled with these sensations while their baby was at home without them vanished under the layers of sexual currents.

  Once alone in the Roman style bathing chamber built of heavy masonry and tile in the foundations of the western wing of the hotel, the low arched roof glowing golden and rippling from niched candles surrounding the pool, they were caught up in a flare of raging need. Darcy entered the water first, Lizzy exiting the dressing room moments later wearing a thin shift. She crossed to where he waded in the waist high water, eyes greedily assessing his figure. The vision of his lean physique, with solid, defined muscles wetly glistening in the subdued lighting and black chest hair enhancing his virile masculinity—as well as creating a pathway pointing to the equally delicious and manly lower body only partially obscured by the opaque mineral water—sent her ardor skyward.

  She paused at the edge long enough to ask one question, “Is it hot?”

  “Only tepid,” he replied, arms reaching to assist.

  Lizzy nodded, sitting onto the edge and slipping into his ready embrace without hesitation. He pulled her onto his chest, hungry hands roaming everywhere seemingly at once. His voice grated from where bared teeth grazed over her shoulder, “My Lizzy, I desire you so profoundly. I fear I may be unable to be gentle.”

  “Do not try, Fitzwilliam,” she whispered, legs encircling his waist and drawing him firmly against her.

  He groaned, any regulation entirely lost as he lowered them both into the water, knees resting onto the last step with Lizzy’s bottom on the one above, driving deeply within her all in one smooth motion. “I missed you,” he murmured, panting already with the furious pace they mutually craved, “I needed you.”

  Her response was a quick nod of agreement and then a rough grip to the back of his head, pulling him closer for a pervading kiss that lasted for several minutes until the rising sensations rapidly overtook them and mouths separated to release guttural cries of pleasure.

  Long minutes later, as Darcy bobbed gently about the pool with Lizzy slumped against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder, she said, “That was wonderful.” Darcy chuckled at the understatement, hands soothingly caressing the water over her back and shoulders. “Correction, it was amazing. Stupendous. Earth shattering. I wonder if the hydropathy experts intended crazed lovemaking as part of their therapy treatment. They should, as I feel incredible.” She pulled away until she could see his smiling eyes. “I haven’t coughed in quite a while now.”

  “Well, without founded scientific evidence to determine the definitive cause of your restoration to prime health and eradication of the cough, I suppose it is my duty to ensure that both treatment plans are abundantly administered.”

  “Indeed, that does appear to be the logical conclusion. So how soon might I anticipate a repeat dose of fantastic loving, Mr. Darcy?”

  Darcy chuckled again, that singular deep, throaty chuckle that was more a sensuous growl. “We have another thirty minutes slated for our bath, and if you remove that shift and continue to touch me as you currently are, a second dose is imminent.”

  Lizzy’s laugh was equally sensual, the soaked shift discarded a second later. They made love again, temperately as they floated about the pool, reveling in the blissful water waving over their naked skin and the romantic atmosphere.

  It was the mere tip of the iceberg. For the entire sojourn they rarely left their rooms. Darcy had planned a few short excursions, depending on Lizzy’s stamina, but few were done. They managed to dress each day, late in the afternoon or evening, for strolls along the secluded pathways. The weather was gloomy, with drizzling rains frequent, so their walks were brief and kept close to the hotel. They were blessed to catch a stunning lunar rainbow on their second night while wandering hand in hand along the trail edging the river during a break in the rain. The combination of moisture in the air, a nearly full moon sitting barely above the horizon, and the darkened sky created a pearly moonbow in a complete arc with a hint of colors visible. They stood for as long as possible, awestruck by the phenomenon, until the encroaching rain misted their faces.

  They raced back to the lodge, damp and slightly winded, but exhilarated by the fresh air and breathtaking visual treat. The rush to remove moist clothing to prevent chilling only led to a rapid tumble back into the unmade bed they so recently vacated.

  They were utterly insatiable.

  “I believe that the moon has turned you into a wild beast,” Lizzy teased, her respirations gasping in time with her spouse’s. She lay draped across his naked chest, sweat slick on their flushed skin, satisfied and deliriously happy as she tickled over his sensitive rib cage.
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  He rolled her over, hands clasping her wrists over her head. He grinned wickedly, eyes brazenly scanning over her body, and shook his head slowly. “Perhaps. But personally, I do not think the moon has anything to do with it.” And without further ado he lowered his mouth to her bosom, beginning an oral exploration that would eventually have her crying his name in ecstasy.

  The exalting pleasure of endless romance with the one person loved more than all others was stronger medicine than the drinking water or calmative baths. Lizzy did sleep for long stretches, but woke refreshed and ready for more romance, often initiating the procedure although Darcy roused swiftly each and every time. Her appetite for both food and her husband increased hourly and daily. It was a pattern of lovemaking, talking, laughing, eating, more love, or maybe sleep, that repeated again and again. Neither could unequivocally assert that they broke any records in those three days, but it assuredly was remarkable. They separated only for their individual toilettes, hastily washing before returning to renewed intimate play and exercise. Darcy did not even bother to shave, Lizzy teasing that the whiskers validated the animalistic transformation. Not that she was complaining one iota!

  On their last night, they lay spooned together with Lizzy’s back pressed tightly into Darcy’s chest. One long, muscular leg twined over hers, keeping her secure and warm. They had napped for several hours after their last wild interlude that had begun while properly dressed and sitting at the dining table when Darcy impulsively hauled her onto his lap to lick the gravy off her bottom lip. That was enough to spark the smoldering fire. The dining chair, thankfully large and sturdy, was utilized efficiently and was miraculously undamaged when they crumbled into a heap of weakened muscles that required approximately fifteen minutes of immobility before staggering together to collapse upon the bed and fall into a deep sleep.

  Now they were awake, but content to talk quietly, caress tenderly, and stare out the wide windows at the glowing moon and sparkling stars peeking through the broken clouds. A fire crackled, providing the only illumination. Darcy idly kissed along her sloping neck, rough beard sending delighted shivers over her spine, and ran his fingertips lightly over her flat belly.

  “Do you think it possible we created a baby while here, Elizabeth?”

  Lizzy smiled, drawing the fingers clasped within her own to her lips for a kiss. “Considering your stored seed after a long abstinence and that we made love, what, a million times?” She laughed. “I imagine it is possible.”

  “I pray so. I am ready for another child.” He paused, cupping her abdomen, and then resumed with conviction. “I believe we have. I feel it.”

  “Do you now? Clairvoyance, is it?”

  “Not precisely, no. But I wish for another baby, one who resembles you this time. And I always get what I want,” he finished with smug assurance, grinning as Lizzy laughed and turned in his arms, face radiant with happiness and superb health.

  “Arrogant,” she teased.

  “Indubitably,” he agreed, grin widening. “Yet you know it is true that I usually do have my way. And who is it whom continually extols my prowess?”

  He lifted his left brow, Lizzy helpless but to laugh and nod. She brushed across his cheek with tender fingertips, encircling his head and embedding her fingers into his mussed hair. “Just in case you are wrong, we have all night and tomorrow morning to work on the project.”

  “I do so love you, Elizabeth. More than it is possible for me to verbalize.”

  “I love you as deeply, William, my heart. But do not fret if words fail you, as showing me your adoration conveys the emotion most admirably.”

  “Are you positive?” He asked with an arched brow and crooked smile. “I could not live with myself if my treasured wife did not adequately comprehend the depth of my sentiments.”

  “Hmm… Perhaps you should expound upon the subject one more time. Drive the point home, shall we say, so I shan’t have any questions.”

  “Drive the point home? Colorful, my love. I am impressed. Shall I begin by articulating my passion for your silky skin by covering you with moist kisses?” And without waiting for an answer he stretched onto her, his sturdy frame pressing her into the mattress, while his lips nuzzled along her neck, feathering kisses and light flicks of his tongue from her earlobe to fragile collarbone.

  At her shoulder he paused, elevating slightly and lifting her arm at the wrist to examine the ivory length as he mused, “Are kisses and nibbles enough to express how I live for the feel of your arms wrapped around me? Can I prove how your beautiful, feminine hands touching me both in tender care and uncontrollable desire heighten my joy?” He brought her inner wrist to his mouth, again kissing and licking, adding suckles and tiny nips to the sensitive area where her pulse raced. He took each finger into his mouth, leisurely sucking, watching her aroused eyes with tremendous satisfaction. A dozen or more intense kisses and he finally traversed the distance, returning to her mouth. His tall, broad-shouldered body again fully covered her svelte one, squeezing so deliciously while he kissed her hungrily.

  He moved both large hands to her breasts, palms cupping the fullness that no longer fit completely within his grasp. “Your breasts,” he resumed huskily. “Words do fail. None exist to explain how your breasts drive me to insane levels of arousal. It is unfair that one woman should possess breasts so utterly perfect and that I am the man blessed to enjoy them.”

  “Unfair?” She asked with a laugh.

  “Very well, not unfair. I suffer no shame over my incredibly good fortune.” And with that declaration he licked over one taut nipple, that taste only the amuse-bouche portion of the feast he relished for the subsequent fifteen minutes on her bosom alone.

  The declarations and stimulation encompassed every part of her body. When he eventually drove home, as she humorously termed it, burying himself deeply within those secret places that were only and forever his to explore and bring pleasure, their passions were once again surging and raging.

  He held her face within the palms of his hands, kissing slowly as his body tirelessly rocked in a measured rhythm. She rose to meet him, her legs wound about his waist and buttocks, the undulant motion controlled and synchronized blissfully. Soft murmurs of love and desire sporadically mixed with the pants and moans. But their faces never parted more than a few inches. Lips nuzzled and kissed, noses brushed cheeks, eyes fluttered open for brief connections, and breath mingled.

  Their breathing grew ragged, the tempo quickening as their grips tightened. Darcy clutched her firmly as she did him, fused along every surface. His lidded eyes locked onto her glorious face until the last possible second when the need overwhelmed. He arched his neck, eyes closing as the spasms of intense pleasure rocked their bodies, groaning as he emptied himself thoroughly until finally collapsing into the bend of her neck.

  They returned to Pemberley the next day with Lizzy glowing, completely free of cold symptoms, and utterly refreshed. Darcy was invigorated as well, the holiday clearly one highly beneficial to both of them.

  The following month passed in a blur. The winter of 1818 was far milder than the previous one. The temperature dropped low enough to freeze the drizzle into light dustings of snow upon occasion, but it never lasted long enough to accumulate before a warmer air current melted it away. When it came to traveling, this was a positive in not being so coldly uncomfortable, but the nearly constant moisture turned the roads into a muddy quagmire. The Darcy coach was sturdy and pulled by strong horses, but the going was slow.

  For that reason, they decided to remain in London after Richard and Simone’s wedding, keeping their agendas open ended. Darcy attended to business and his favored pursuits while Lizzy and Georgiana shopped and visited with the few friends present in Town prior to the official Season.

  Thus, they were in their Darcy House bedchamber on a dreary morning in early February when Lizzy abruptly woke while lying in her husband’s arms. She roughly disengaged her limbs from his, her elbow and heels painfully striking his ine
rt flesh a time or two, vaulted out of bed, and barely reached her chamber pot before becoming violently ill.

  Trembling and with stomach churning, she shuffled into the bedchamber holding a wet cloth against her forehead. A sleepy, slightly bruised, but anticipatory Darcy sat waiting in the bed for her return. “Are you? That is, do you think?”

  Lizzy gingerly laid back down, glaring into her husband’s shining eyes from underneath the compress, and answered in a clipped tone, “I cannot be certain, Fitzwilliam, but it certainly seems probable that your wish for another child may be true.”

  Darcy chuckled, managing to control the overwhelming urge to leap from the bed and dance about the room, nestling his wife close to his warm body. “This is amazing news, my love! I knew we conceived while at Matlock Bath! Did I not say so at the time? I could feel it, I just knew! Remember?”

  Lizzy smiled faintly at the raging enthusiasm that was rapidly threatening to override his restraint. “Yes, I recall very well, Mr. Darcy. Your rather smug assertions in the ability to impregnate upon demand were abundantly conveyed. How proud you must be.”

  Darcy laughed harder, kissing with gusto, before pulling away to smooth the hair from her brow with a tender caress. He gently pressed the damp cloth over her pale cheeks, his radiant grin not completely hiding his concern for her well-being. Still, his happiness and pride ruled.

  “When, do you think? On our first day, when we made love before the fire with you astride me, and the flames flickered over your skin? That was incredible. Or the time we woke in the darkness of pre-dawn. God, you were unbelievable! I saw stars, Elizabeth, and not because we tumbled to the floor. And that last night. Yes, that may be it! Your eyes were glowing as we finished, and I thought I would never stop shuddering with pleasure and filling you. I was blissfully drained. Or maybe…”

  “You forgot to mention the pool, when you tackled me so roughly that I scraped my backside.” Her tone was teasing but vaguely surly.