Lizzy began to tremble hysterically but before she could relax into the sturdy grip of her husband, he pushed her away, grasped her upper arms roughly, and shook her until her teeth rattled. “Do not ever make me do something like this again, Elizabeth Darcy! Do you hear me?” His face was black with anger, but tears were in his eyes.
Lizzy’s mouth fell open in shock and her mind could not comprehend the whirling emotions as his mouth descended onto hers in a bruising kiss. The kiss was brutal and thorough, albeit short, and then she was enfolded in his arms and pressed tenaciously into his hard chest.
The sound of a horse’s hooves barely registered as her sobs and gasps mingled with the wheezes resonating through his shirt. “Is all well, Mr. Darcy?” Mr. Thurber inquired. Darcy nodded and waved a hand, unable to speak, and the wrangler retreated.
“You…” she sobbed, “you… did this… on purpose?”
His intonation was weary when he finally spoke. “I needed to show you how dangerous it can be, Elizabeth. I am sorry.” His voice caught and he swallowed. “But you were not taking this seriously enough.” He gently fingered her chin and lifted her face to his, raptly examining her eyes. He was emotionally spent and it showed in his gaze. Lizzy nearly collapsed as a torrent of shame rushed through her. She wanted to hide and cry some more and beg forgiveness and then kiss him, but he suddenly released her and she swayed.
“Climb back in, Mrs. Darcy,” he demanded curtly in a tremulous rasp. “Take it back to the stable.” He remounted Parsifal and looked at her with glazed eyes and a wan smile as she gaped at him. “Like falling off a horse, my love, you must get back on immediately. Hurry up, but be careful. I shall be waiting for you in our chambers. I need to kiss you and hold you for several hours to overcome the fright you have given me.” With a last weak smile and a blown kiss, he heeled Parsifal and took off across the meadow in a blinding flash.
For the first time in her marriage, Elizabeth was afraid to approach her husband. Certainly not because she thought for one second he would harm her, but due to her acute shame and fear of seeing disappointment on his face. Therefore, she did not hurry as he asked, but dawdled in the stables, sluggishly climbed the staircases, and entered their bedroom subdued and stealthily. He stood with an elbow propped on the mantle and staring into the fire and twiddling an empty glass in one hand, the other in a fist over his mouth. His torso was bare although, oddly, he still wore his breeches and boots. She observed him silently, detecting no overt tension or anger but rather weariness. She could not see his face until he suddenly sensed her presence and turned.
All she saw was love. He glowed as he did immediately after they made love, the expression in his shining eyes one that she recognized as pure joy and adoration. He placed the glass on the mantle and, without a word, held his arms open. In a flash and with a sob she was there, holding him as he held her, with tenderness and belonging. He sat onto the sofa, cradling her on his lap and soothingly caressing her back and shoulders as he unpinned her already partially loose hair. Neither spoke, Lizzy trembling with unshed tears as he purred placatingly.
Twining fingers through her hair, he tasted her lips, feathering and delicate. With immeasurable patience he began unbuttoning her gown, baring her to his airy touch. He had never undressed her so slowly. It was unfathomably erotic yet tranquilizing at the same time. She relaxed into his body, hands lax as he stirred her senses. For endless minutes he focused on her bared breasts, arousing her gradually with fingers and then mouth.
He clasped her body to his and with balletic grace fell to the bearskin rug. He stretched beside her, examining her face as he resumed the caresses to her chest. Elizabeth never felt as beautiful as she did when William stared at her. His eyes pierced her soul, love and transcendent admiration naked. Words were unnecessary and they uttered none. Passion coursed through her as a torrential wave, every touch rocking her with heat, yet she was mesmerized by his eyes, his face in total so enchanting.
Raptly watching her, he ran his hand down her abdomen and hips, divesting her of the dress completely. With his eyes never leaving her face, even when she closed her eyes in rising euphoria, he allowed his fingers to play over her supple flesh. With nothing but his masterful touch he roused her, lovingly bringing her to utter fulfillment until she cried his name, begging him in desperation to stop before she died.
Immediately, he crushed her shivering body to his. “Oh, my God, William,” she spoke shakily, “I truly think at times I shall perish from the power of what you do to me!”
He kissed her forehead, speaking softly, “I will never let you die, Lizzy, not from pleasure or anything else. Without you I cannot survive.”
She smiled into his crystal eyes. “Nor I without you, best beloved.”
Darcy’s “test” did accomplish the goal of proving to him that Lizzy could handle herself in the little carriage. He accompanied her about for the next two weeks as she ventured further afield until he was comfortable with allowing her to wander off alone.
Nonetheless, on the day in late February when she wheeled off to visit Mrs. Harriet Vernor, a mere five miles away, Darcy was beside himself for the entire four hours she was gone. He paced in his study, found endless excuses to wander into the main parlor so he could peer onto the drive, and finished not a stitch of the work piled on his desk.
When she arrived home, flushed and glowing from satisfaction and a delightful afternoon with her friend, Darcy marched her immediately up to their chambers. In general a man of few words, Darcy had recognized that the preferred method of alleviating his tribulation and expressing his devotion was to simply hold, kiss, and tenderly make love to his wife. Since he did this remarkably well, Elizabeth had no complaints.
Aside from such upsets as curricle lessons, one other ball in late February, and the few sudden minor troubles about the farms, life for the Darcys followed a relatively predictable routine every day. Lizzy and Darcy were both historically early risers, Darcy especially so. His normal pattern prior to matrimony was to wake just after dawn and go for a long ride. This activity was replaced by an exceedingly more pleasant one: waking his wife shortly after dawn, generally in a state of partial arousal, and making love. After that, they would contentedly snuggle and doze before rising for a leisurely breakfast in their sitting room. Perhaps twice a week, as weather permitted, Darcy would leave his deliciously satisfied wife in resumed slumber and take Parsifal for a vigorous race across Pemberley’s vast pastures, returning for breakfast.
Mid-morning was passed in his study attending to various business matters, while Lizzy either sat reading nearby or met with Mrs. Reynolds while Georgiana was with her tutor. Darcy, to his pleased surprise, preferred to have Lizzy sit with him and discuss the business at hand. Initially it had not occurred to him to share the minute details of the estate management with her, not because he doubted her intelligence, but simply because he had never talked to anyone about his affairs, except Mr. Keith, of course.
Her gentle probing questions and enthusiastic interest had encouraged him to answer her inquiries with increasing clarity and depth. Darcy knew his wife was bright but was astonished at how adroitly her mind grasped certain things. Darcy was a linear thinker, eminently logical and rational, unemotional regarding business, cunning in his problem-solving abilities, meticulous and thorough. Lizzy rationalized in a circular manner, embraced her emotions in her reasoning, was astoundingly adept at comprehending complex issues in mere minutes while simpler tasks often escaped her understanding, and had an earthy and ingenious approach to resolution. It was a combination of acumen that perfectly complemented, assisting Darcy in a way he never would have imagined.
One such incident occurred in early March. Mr. Keith approached Darcy one morning at his desk as Lizzy sat sewing in her chair.
“Mr. Darcy, a difficulty has arisen between Roy Alton and Howard Hayes once again. This time it is over the rights to the well.”
Darcy scowled and sighed. “Those two cause me more gr
ief than all the others combined. What about the well?”
“Alton claims that Hayes has not been maintaining the well as he is instructed to do, and the pumps are now malfunctioning. Hayes refutes this, placing the blame, naturally, on Alton whom he states has intentionally sabotaged the pumps in order to slander him. None of it makes sense.”
“Are the pumps completely irreparable?”
“No, but certainly not adequately functional, especially with the weather, to sustain the families’ requirements.”
“Did we not address this same issue three years ago? We set up a schedule of maintenance times and duties…” Darcy trailed off as he rummaged through his files.
“Order each of them to dig a well on their own lands.” Lizzy spoke from her chair, still intent on her needlework. Both men paused and stared at her.
Darcy glanced at Mr. Keith, who raised his brows and shrugged. “Elizabeth, that would not solve the immediate problem.”
She looked up at the men as if they were impossibly dense and rolled her eyes. “Of course, they would need to fix the current well first. After that, though, they should start working on their individual wells.”
They continued to stare at her with mixed expressions of confusion and patronization. Lizzy sighed, “They are acting like children, so treat them as such. Separate them, take the object of their current tantrum away, and distract them with something else. In this case the arduous chore of digging a well in the frozen ground. That ought to distract them from their petty bickering for several months, and they will be too busy grousing at you to pick on each other.”
She smiled winsomely at their dawning understanding and astonishment. “In addition, you will have to set a deadline and enforce it by destroying the current well, or they will just ignore you.”
Darcy looked at Mr. Keith and they nodded. “Yes, that might just work. Write up a contract, Mr. Keith, and I shall confront them tomorrow. Arrange for the equipment they will need. Is there anything else?”
“No, sir. I will take care of it.”
He left and Darcy peered at his smug spouse. “Proud of yourself, Mrs. Darcy?”
“You would eventually have arrived at the same conclusion, my love, in several years or so.”
At least twice a week, Lizzy spent the morning hours with Mrs. Reynolds. Like Darcy, Mrs. Reynolds was overwhelmingly patient and delighted at the aptness of the new Mistress. Mathematics failed Lizzy, so Darcy handled the accounts as always, but she readily grasped the inner workings of the household staff and their interpersonal relationships. Like her husband, she learned each of their names and made a point always to address them individually.
Unlike her husband, Lizzy was naturally congenial and not as formal with the servants, thus taking the time to familiarize herself with aspects of their personal lives and characters. This added insight greatly assisted her in dealing with troubles as they arose and with moving freely about the manor, thus intensifying her knowledge of the inner workings of Pemberley. Little by little, she assumed a portion of the duties from Mrs. Reynolds.
“Mrs. Reynolds, tell me about the summer festival for the tenants. I would like to reestablish the tradition.”
“Wonderful idea, Mistress! We can easily plan this and the tenants would be delighted. Generally Mrs. Darcy held the event in late June or early July. The planting is primarily done, and it is not terribly hot yet. The festivities were fairly straightforward: a feast and dancing.”
Lizzy was nodding, “Yes, this should be perfect. Mr. Darcy, Miss Darcy, and I will be journeying to Town in April for two months, as you are aware. We can set the date for…” she perused the calendar on her desk, “July tenth? Yes, that is good. I will discuss this with Mr. Darcy. We can detail the menu and agenda before we leave. Excellent! As always, Mrs. Reynolds, I count on your forthrightness and assistance. I still have so much to learn.”
Mrs. Reynolds patted her hand. “You minimize your progress, Madame. I have never seen anyone learn as fast as you have.” Lizzy blushed. “Mr. Darcy is pleased, I can tell.” She stood to leave. “By the way, ask Mr. Darcy about the summer festival the year he was fifteen.” She smiled and left.
Lizzy wasted no time. She entered Darcy’s study to find her husband bent in his chair, mumbling and cursing as he searched for something in the bottom drawer. He did not hear her approach until she was right behind him and spoke.
“May I help?” He jerked up, his mien a mask of consternation until he saw her beloved face and he melted.
“You already have, beloved, by warming my heart before I erupted in a serious temper due to my own disorganization and forgetfulness.”
“Pah! You are perhaps the least disorganized or forgetful man in the world!” She moved around his chair until she faced him, leaning close with her hands resting on his thighs. “I find that if I take my mind momentarily off the dilemma at hand, the answer will spontaneously emerge. You merely need something to distract you, my love. I believe my arrival is fortuitous.” With that proclamation she kissed him, slowly and teasingly playing with his lips.
“Hmmm… You are partially correct, dearest wife, as ideas are materializing in abundance, although none of them solve the prior problem, yet I am no longer concerned.” He whispered against her mouth, grasping her waist to pull her onto his lap.
She smiled and gently bit his lower lip before pulling away. She laughed at his sudden expression of childish petulance and clasped his hands. “Such a baby! Come with me, little boy,” as she tugged him up and led him to the sofa. She sat close to his side, draping her legs over one of his, one hand entangling in his hair as the other dexterously manipulated the knots of his cravat. “There. Is this not preferable? Now you can have your way with me, Mr. Darcy.”
Without hesitation, he did. Kissing thoroughly and caressing where possible while fully clothed, the lovers delighted in a time of rapturous amusement. Darcy’s coats were unbuttoned and Lizzy lovingly fondled his chest while nibbling on his exposed neck, finally murmuring into his ear, “So, enlighten me as to the memorable event surrounding the summer festival when you were fifteen.”
Darcy had been pleasantly attending to his own diversions along Lizzy’s bodice when she spoke. He choked on his startled indrawn breath, coughing and sputtering alarmingly. Lizzy covered her mouth to keep from laughing. “What…” he wheezed, “How did you…” gasp, “Who told you about that?”
“Mrs. Reynolds.”
He groaned and leaned his head back against the wall. “I should dismiss her!”
Lizzy snickered as she moved in to assault his now further visible neck and chest. “Nonsense! I am sure it is in your journal for me to read anyway, so confess, Mr. Darcy.”
“Oh Lord, have mercy; why did I ever marry such a meddlesome pest?”
“Flattery will not save you.” She smiled at him seductively and batted her lashes. “Now, speak!”
“On one condition. If I divulge my secret, then you must do the same. Agreed?” He was grinning.
Lizzy’s eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips speculatively. “I could just read your journal.”
“I can wrest the key from you by force, if need be, likely enjoying myself in the process.”
“Beast! I am sure Mrs. Reynolds will tell me if I ask.”
“Not if I order her not to. I am Master here.” His grin had broadened.
“Oh, alright! Agreed,” she declared with a feigned pout and she stuck her hand out to shake on it, earning a laugh from her husband.
“When I was a young, foolish fifteen, I fancied myself madly in love with Mrs. Langton’s daughter, Eloise. She was seventeen, buxom, blonde, and a notorious flirt.” He was blushing but laughing at the silly memory. “I spied on her whenever I could, which she well knew and used to her advantage to torture me. Wickham figured it out and teased me mercilessly. He was a mere thirteen, but had already cornered a number of the looser girls for kisses and fondles. I found that behavior disgusting, as you know, but I was besotted an
d reckoned myself pure in my affection.
“He dared me to kiss her and then taunted me with unflattering names. A boy’s ego is easily bruised, so I determined that I would make my move at the festival. It was amazingly easy to arrange, Eloise being the flirt she was and more than willing to accommodate the young Master. I was just beginning to truly enjoy myself when Wickham, the demon, arrived with Vernor, Hughes, Richard, and my parents in tow.”
He groaned and covered his eyes with one large hand, still grinning though, and continued, “The taunts of the gents I could handle, but my parents were aghast. I was forced to publicly apologize to Eloise and to her parents. Mr. Langton was still alive then and he dwarfed his wife, if that gives you any idea of how intimidating a presence he was. I have never been so humiliated in all my life. My mother did not speak to me for a week, and my father lashed me with a switch so as to render me unable to sit for several days.” He peered at his giggling and tremulous wife through his fingers. “The kiss was nice, though.”
“Ha!” she barked and attacked his ticklish rib cage with her fingers, dissolving them both in laughter.
“Mercy!” he pleaded breathlessly. “Now it is your turn to confess, Mrs. Darcy. Your first crush and kiss.”
“I am afraid you shall be hideously disappointed, my dear. I do not have a good story to tell. My first crush was when I was eighteen and I briefly imagined myself smitten with the butcher’s son, who was some five-and-twenty years old and did not even know I existed. My mild case of enchantment with the perfidious Mr. Wickham was next, and then you. Aside from my father and uncles, you are the first and only man ever to kiss me.”
Darcy smiled brightly and tenderly caressed her cheek. “You are mistaken, my Lizzy. I am not disappointed in your confession in the slightest.” He kissed her lightly. “I do not have to fear suffering by comparison.”
Mr. & Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy: Two Shall Become One Page 29
