Loving Mr. Darcy: Journeys Beyond Pemberley tds-2

by Sharon Lathan

  “I love you,” he answered back, smiling as he kissed her. “Every time with you, my heart, is better than the last. Is this possible?”

  “Our love grows, dearest. I suppose it is a reflection of that.”

  Darcy stood shakily then flopped onto the bed, drawing her into a tight embrace. Lizzy nestled as close as feasible, inhaling deeply of his male aroma that was augmented deliciously by love-induced sweat. She delicately fondled him, reveling in the afterglow of their rapture and so exhilarated to simply be near him. She kissed his chest. “I wish we could stay like this all day. Rest for a spell then make love again, eat a bit then make love more. I think I could happily remain in your embrace for all eternity, endlessly touching and arousing you.” She giggled then looked up into his sparkling eyes. “See what you have done to me? Hopelessly wanton and amorous.”

  “How terrible for me,” he grinned. “What shall I do with you?” Twining his fingers through her hair, he drew her in for a lingering kiss.

  “You must grant me whatever I wish,” she replied saucily once he released her. “Your vows demand it!” He merely chuckled and did not answer except to kiss her forehead and squeeze tighter. Lizzy fingered over his bruised chest. The colors were amazing and Lizzy, no stranger to bruising herself, was impressed. The feeling, circulation, and strength to his arm had been restored completely. It was the shoulder and upper arm that yet pained him. Lizzy speculated it was undoubtedly from the severe wrenching when Athena reared rather than the impact with her hoof. The chest area itself was only mildly painful, as typical with a serious contusion. “You will ask your uncle to examine your injury as soon as possible, will you not, beloved?”

  Darcy nodded. “I will. In all honesty, I am anxious to hear his opinion. It does hurt more than I expected it to after so many days, which concerns me somewhat.” He studied her anxious eyes, wiping away the tears that readily sprung. “I was not evading when I told you I have suffered worse, love. Once, when I was seventeen, I was thrown and my heel caught in the stirrup. I was dragged only a few feet, but my thigh muscle was strained terribly. I could not bear weight for a whole week, which drove me and every servant in the manor nearly insane.” He laughed in memory, softly caressing her face. “I am not a complacent patient, my dear. Your moments of pique during your convalescence were sweet compared to mine.”

  He turned to his side, caressing over her skin with a heady sigh and penetrating gaze. “You are so beautiful, Elizabeth,” he said dreamily.

  “We were discussing your body, Mr. Darcy, not mine.”

  “Yours is profoundly more interesting, my love.” He nestled into her neck for gentle nibbles, and speaking lowly, said, “I have been bruised and sprained so many times I have lost count. Not to mention the scrapes, lacerations, and twice broken bones. In the end, I think sprains are the worst in that only time mends them.” He met her eyes with a smile. “I told you I had a reckless youth. My uncle may know a different treatment to speed recovery, as he learns varied techniques from the cultures he lives with. He travels all over the Far East—not just in India where he now resides—always learning. The man is insatiable. His thirst for knowledge exceeds mine tenfold, if that gives you any indication of the breadth of his wisdom.”

  All during his monologue, Darcy had been intermittently kissing his wife and fondling gently, Lizzy trying to attend diligently to his words. He stroked over her abdomen, pausing at the swell of their baby, hoping to feel movement to no avail. Continuing on with titillating manipulation, he lovingly adored his wife, proving yet again his ardent desire for her and astounding potency and masculinity.

  “I have rested, my lover, and am perfectly willing to fulfill my vows as you requested,” he whispered huskily with a naughty leer.

  Lizzy opened her mouth to flash a smart retort, but at that moment the mantle clock chimed nine o’clock. They both glanced over then returned their gazes to the other, Darcy never relenting in his stimulation.

  “Breakfast will be served soon, Fitzwilliam. We should rise and dress. I do not think—” She gasped, closing her eyes briefly in pleasure. “Beloved, there is not time…”

  “There is always time to love you, my wife,” he firmly proclaimed, pulling her body onto his front side, “always time.” Then, he halted any further argument with a persuasive kiss—not that Lizzy had any desire to argue.

  Mr. Joshua Daniels arrived promptly at two o’clock, adding punctuality to his growing list of virtues. Darcy opted to stay home despite several business needs, both to act as chaperone and to await his uncle's appearance. He worked all morning in his study, listening attentively for the door chime, while the ladies meticulously planned the tea. Mary thought them all slightly mad at the attention to detail, yet was embarrassingly pleased by the fuss.

  Mary was beautiful in the gown Georgiana had lent her. It was a solid deep blue with a faint metallic sheen subtly woven in, the cut simple and temperate, although Mary's fuller figure did stretch the bodice beyond true modesty. She resisted Marguerite coifing her hair, insisting on pulling it back into a basic chignon and relenting only in wearing a clip of tiny pearls. Lizzy deliberately rearranged the parlor with a small table and two chairs positioned off to one side, close enough for the other occupants to converse and offer support yet separate enough to allow the young couple to talk quietly together. Darcy had stood insolently leaning against the doorjamb, grinning humorously as Lizzy ordered footmen about like a general planning a military campaign. He extended the occasional quip and droll suggestion but was essentially ignored, Lizzy finally commanding him to “go do something useful.”

  An array of edible delights had been concocted by the excellent kitchen staff for the tea, and Darcy even joined the group initially, though adding little to the general conversation, his wife being far more adept at orchestrating flowing communication. Correctly assuming that his dominating and severe presence would hamper full relaxation, Darcy shortly excused himself, pleading a pile of work on his desk, which was the truth.

  Lizzy was impressed by Mr. Daniels's general ease. He was mildly nervous, but conversed effortlessly on numerous subjects. Following a predetermined agenda, Georgiana and Kitty excused themselves, leaving Lizzy to play chaperone from a chair in the far corner. With head bent diligently over her embroidery, Lizzy surreptitiously observed her sister.

  Mary said little during tea, interjecting with the occasional comment, but allowing the others to lead. Despite the fact that Mary was her sister, Lizzy could not well ascertain the thoughts behind Mary's calm demeanor. Now, with just the two of them relatively alone, Mr. Daniels visibly relaxed and Mary slowly opened up as well. Lizzy noted that their dialogue steadily continued with the appropriate amount of smiles, eye contact, and soft laughs.

  “How are you enjoying your stay in Town, Miss Bennet?”

  “Tremendously. But I will confess that the noise and diminished fresh air is bothersome to me. I have lived all my life in the country, so the environment of the city is odd. However, there is certainly no lack of entertainment.”

  “Have you never been to London?”

  “Infrequently, and not for a number of years. My aunt and uncle dwell in Cheapside, so we visit from time to time; however, my parents are not fond of Town. I must say I have been surprisingly pleased at how enjoyable my sojourn here has thus far been.”

  “I imagine the Darcys have taken the opportunity to show you many of the sights to be had? The theatre, opera, museum, and the like?”

  Mary nodded. “Yes, although it is a vast area with far too many wonders to absorb in three weeks. I have yet to visit the museum, although my sister did and thought it marvelous. Do you appreciate history and ancient cultures, Mr. Daniels?”

  “Absolutely. As I pointed out when we met, I am a scholar. Difficult to pull my nose out of a book, to the supreme amusement of my eldest brother, who is the consummate outdoorsman.” They both laughed, then he cleared his throat nervously before resuming, “Perhaps, Miss Bennet, providing it
is of interest to you and meets with the approval of the Darcys, you would consider accompanying me to the British Museum? Properly chaperoned, naturally. One should not tarry in London without touring the Museum. It would be a sin.” He finished with a small smile.

  Mary raised her brow, initially unsure if he was serious. With a careful study of his artless countenance, she recognized the jest. “I am not quite certain I agree with it necessarily entering the same realm as sloth and gluttony; however, I will concur that it would be a terrible shame.”

  “Excellent! By the way, how much longer will you be in Town? After all, there are many other wonders to behold, all of which I would be delighted to show you.”

  Mary was peering at him intently. “Mr. Daniels, you barely know me. Perhaps you should not be so swift to offer your time and person.”

  He flushed slightly, startled and discomfited at her bluntness. One look into her eyes though, and he realized it was one of the attributes he liked about her and had sensed immediately. She was honest, forthright, and humble. He leaned forward, meeting her frank gaze. “Miss Bennet, it is precisely because I barely know you that I wish to pass as much time as possible with you. My time is short ere you depart, and I very much desire to utilize the time granted me to improve my knowledge of you.”

  “Why?” She was frowning mildly, gazing at him intently. With a sudden jolt, he perceived that the question was asked with true perplexity and curiosity.

  “Miss Bennet, I shall be completely blunt and honest and beg your pardon if I cross a line in some manner; however, I sense you are requesting a candid response.” He paused, awaiting her favor until she nodded. “I feel drawn to you in a way I do not totally understand, yet there it is. I have never felt so inclined toward another. What this connection bodes for the future, I do not know. You are pretty, intelligent, honest, proper, and many other fine qualities I believe I could list without hesitation. I think it entirely probable you and I would be perfect for each other. It is my intention to discover if this is possible. I do not wish to trifle with your emotions, nor do I wish to have my own sensibilities manipulated; therefore, if you cannot imagine even the remotest chance of returning affection, tell me now and I shall abide by your pleasure. On the other hand, if you sense, even vaguely, a returned interest in me, then let us proceed with willing minds and hearts.”

  Mary remained silent for a bit, studying his guileless face. Her thoughts rushed. Mary was a simple, innocent young woman, unaware of the fact that what was passing between them was highly improper in its frankness. A true society woman would faint away at being addressed so boldly by a gentleman. Mr. Daniels knew this and anticipated her reply with bated breath; fearful of having spoken too candidly and thus frightening the first woman he had ever been truly drawn to. Yet, Miss Bennet appeared not the least bit frightened or shocked, merely intrigued.

  With a small smile she said, “Very well, Mr. Daniels. With open minds and hearts, we shall proceed. Now, tell me exactly what a solicitor's duties are.” And with a casual sip of tea, she turned the conversation to mundane matters. Mr. Daniels smiled happily, then launched into a detailed accounting of his profession.

  Lizzy sat across the room attending with extreme concentration to her needlework, in truth having completed perhaps ten stitches. She could not hear every word spoken between her sister and Mr. Daniels, but enough to glean the context. It was difficult to contain her smile. Approximately ten minutes later, Kitty and Georgiana returned via the arrangement, allowing Lizzy to dash to Darcy's study.

  She told him everything, ending by teasing that he should have taken the time to acquaint himself with Mr. Daniels years ago, then perhaps he would have known how to be forthright with a woman. To which he replied that it no longer mattered, for now he had won his maiden's hand and forthright conversation was therefore not essential. Of course, Lizzy took umbrage and assaulted her husband with well-placed tickles, leading to kisses and intimate caresses that quite likely would have lead to further intimate activities, but the door chime interrupted them.

  Quickly readjusting clothing, they hurried to the foyer, but rather than Darcy's uncle it was a representative from Tillbury's Carriages. With a broad beam Darcy grasped his wife's hand and followed the man to the street where Lizzy's curricle sat. Completed, it was more beautiful than Lizzy had imagined. Polished to a high sheen, metal and wood glistening in the bright sunlight, the curricle was exquisite. Lizzy had chosen a brocade of forest green with maroon and gold stripes for the cushions, elegantly coordinating with the glossy maroon enameled sides. The Darcy crest blazed in the sun. Again Lizzy was moved to tears, Darcy casually handing her his handkerchief while the man from Tillbury's rendered a full inspection for Mr. Darcy's approval.

  Reentering the foyer while the curricle was being properly stowed for later delivery to Pemberley, they encountered Mr. Daniels and the girls approaching.

  “Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy,” Mr. Daniels said, bowing. “I wish to thank you for allowing me to call upon Miss Bennet and for guesting me in your enchanting home. I have had a delightful afternoon.”

  Darcy bowed in return, formally welcoming Mr. Daniels to visit whenever he wished, which led to discussions of museums and picnics with Miss Bennet, Mary quietly standing nearby. Kitty giggled, reverting momentarily to her naturally giddy behavior, while Georgiana merely smiled sweetly. A state of moderate chaos reigned while Mr. Travers patiently waited by the open front doors with Mr. Daniels's overcoat and hat. No one was attending to the doorway itself, which is why the booming voice startled all of them into abrupt silence.

  “I daresay, William, do you always host festivities in the grand foyer?”

  All eyes snapped to the towering gentleman blocking the sunlight from his casual dominance on the threshold. It was Georgiana who first speared the oppressive silence with a squeal as she rushed into the arms of the lanky intruder, declaring with confident delight that it was Uncle George.

  “Unhand me, woman!” Dr. Darcy mockingly commanded, with a wink to a broadly smiling Darcy. “It is not proper for a woman of breeding to embrace a strange man!”

  “Uncle George! It is me! Georgiana!”

  “Impossible! Georgiana is a grubby faced child with pigtails.”

  “I have never worn pigtails in my life!”

  Dr. Darcy peered intently into his niece's face, the corners of his mouth twitching precisely as Darcy's did when attempting not to laugh. “Well, you do resemble her somewhat, although the Georgiana I remember did not have bosoms and curves. William, how could you allow this to transpire? Did I not instruct you to prevent her growing?”

  Darcy spread his hands. “Unless you have discovered a potion to stunt aging, Uncle, I have no control over the matter.”

  George Darcy, a man of some fifty years, so resembled his nephew it was uncanny. They were of an identical height, although Dr. Darcy was far leaner, almost skeletal, with sharp angles at every joint. His eyes were the same brilliant blue, hair the same brown, though with streaks of gray at the temples and wavy where Darcy's was straight. His handsome face was a thinner, lined mirror image of Darcy's, with skin tanned bronze by the harsh desert sun. Instead of traditional English garb, he wore an impeccably tailored Indian Punjabi suit, consisting of churidar trousers and kameez tunic in bright turquoise with red trim and a tan sherwani richly embroidered with a rainbow of hues across the hem and over the long sleeves. The effect was exotic and beautiful.

  Georgiana was beaming, far too ecstatic to be embarrassed by references to “bosoms and curves,” tenderly gripped by her uncle's right arm as he surveyed the stunned occupants of the foyer. “Well, as my nephew appears to have lost his wits and well-honed English manners, I shall guess.” He looked straight into Elizabeth's face with a friendly but piercing gaze all too familiar to her and stated assuredly with a proper bow, “Mrs. Darcy, I am certain. The combination of intelligence, long-suffering, and humor, all of which are of necessity to endure marriage to the man-child behind you, as wel
l as the fact that you are obviously with child, mathematically compute. Congratulations, Mrs. Darcy, on your nuptials, and blessed tidings.”

  He bowed yet again, brushing her slack fingers with his lips, and then laughed a resonant chuckle identical to her spouse's. “Do not be so shocked, my dear. I am a physician. Your state is clearly written upon you.” Still laughing, he glanced up at Darcy. “Congratulations to you as well, nephew. Despite the paralysis of your beautiful spouse, I am confident of my original assessment and am therefore relieved that you have chosen wisely.”

  Darcy laughed and bowed dramatically. “Thank you, Uncle George, on both counts.” He stepped forward, clasping hands with his uncle who then enveloped him in a hug, Darcy wincing slightly but returning the embrace with enthusiasm. “Allow me. This is my wife, Elizabeth Darcy. Dearest, my uncle, Dr. George Darcy.”

  “Please, ‘George’ is what I prefer. I am on vacation, so the doctor has been left in India, although I will take a gander at that arm of yours, William, if you wish it.”

  “How did you…?” Lizzy blurted in surprise.

  George smiled. “He flinched, grunted faintly, and did not grip as tight as he normally would have. Let me guess. A horse, William? Or have you taken up pugilism as well as dueling? Ah, there you are, Raja!”

  All eyes now focused on the new arrival: a man in his mid-thirties of average height, stocky build, and swarthy, with coal black eyes and thick, curly hair as black as a starless midnight sky. He smiled, teeth gleaming ivory as he bowed. He too wore an outfit of traditional Indian style, although far more sedate and unadorned than George Darcy's. So dark was he that Lizzy thought he was Indian, but then he spoke. “Saludo. Greetings.”

  “Allow me to introduce my colleague Dr. Raul Penaflor Aleman de Vigo. His full name is far longer and I frankly cannot remember it all. A Spaniard, but do not let that influence your opinion! He is a good man and excellent physician—nearly as skilled as me! Is not that so, Raja?”