Loving Mr. Darcy: Journeys Beyond Pemberley tds-2

by Sharon Lathan

“Come, lover. Catch me if you can.” The gown followed the robe in a pile on his head, Darcy sweeping blindly for her legs but she was gone. Moments later, entering the modest bedchamber Darcy found his lovely bride stretched languidly and deliciously in the middle of the bed. “What took you so long?” she teased, opening her arms with hands reaching.

  Smiling broadly with indescribable happiness, he joined her, body pressing beautifully over hers with mutual heat seeping through every pore. Not uttering a word, he kissed her consumingly as his hands stroked through her tousled hair. Lizzy clutched him tight, legs over legs and arms about chest, rubbing and fondling flaming skin in ecstasy.

  Darcy kissed softly over her face, ending on her nose. Meeting her blazing eyes with a smile, still smoothing through her hair and brushing thumbs over her cheeks, he said, “I love you, Mrs. Darcy. I love how you make me feel like a giddy child and a virile man at the same time.” He nibbled her ruddy lips. “I love how you tease me and cherish me. You are my breath and life, Elizabeth, best beloved.” Another deep kiss was followed by a trailing firestorm of sweet kisses and suckles down her neck to shoulders.

  Winding his way downward, Darcy aroused his wife to insane heights. Lizzy still, after nearly nine months of marriage, could not understand how his hands and lips were everywhere at once. Every inch of her skin was scorched and begging for more of his masterful, provocative touch. Each nerve throbbed, every cell ached in yearning, and all her muscles trembled. Blood rushed with the pounding of her passion infused heart. Lungs cried for air. It was divine agony and she beseeched him to persist, her very existence dependant on his touch.

  Ardor raged. Lizzy was incoherent with desire. Darcy loved his wife, kissing and caressing, the giving of pleasure transcendent until she arched and shouted his name in glory. Tremors wracked her as he bestowed brushing kisses over her thighs and abdomen. Ceaseless delicate kisses imparted as he worked his way back up to her bosom, eventually rolling to his side with Lizzy in his firm embrace. “William,” she murmured faintly, “I love you.”

  He lifted himself, gazing with bottomless depths of love, smiling as he pulled her shivering body against his chest. “Elizabeth, you have no idea how I enjoy pleasuring you.”

  They embraced in silence for a time, Lizzy's wits gradually returning to normal. Well aware that he remained aroused and unfulfilled, Lizzy commenced the succulent exploration of his body. She kissed the hollow of his throat, pulse warm and strong. Hands traveled over his chest and belly to all other masculine parts, Darcy groaning from the sensation. As lazily and competently as he had rocketed her passion, she did the same.

  It was a magical night of interminable lovemaking. They had found on occasion that their mutual desire was insatiable, both seemingly inexhaustible in their need for each other. Tonight was such a night. Not two hours of deep sleep later, it was Lizzy who first roused her husband with caresses and kisses.

  Darcy's response was instant, even if he remained more asleep than awake when she loved him. Several hours of limb-entangled slumber passed before they sleepily reached for each other, Darcy moving onto his welcoming wife.

  “Lizzy, my beautiful Lizzy.” He murmured gravelly, holding tightly while nuzzling her neck. Lizzy wrapped about him, relaxing pliantly under his crushing weight as he moved so beautifully. It was a prolonged flowing interlude, lapping and waving bliss warming and intensely satisfying. Darcy collapsed with a throaty groan, pulling her to his chest as he rolled to the side. Promptly, they returned to refreshing slumber.

  Many hours later, sunlight streaming through the parted curtains, Lizzy roused to discover her husband lying beside her and staring. She smiled groggily, reaching to caress his neck. “I still deem it horribly unfair,” she whispered.

  “What is unfair?”

  “How you can actually be more handsome with mussed hair and unshaven face. Even your grating voice is sexy and irresistible. Horribly unfair as I, thanks to you my lover, look a fright.”

  Darcy smiled, elegant fingers tracing circles on her breasts. “Thank you for the compliment. However, you are grossly mistaken regarding looking a fright. You are ravishing. Never more lovely than in the morning sun with hair loose and the flush of our lovemaking yet apparent on your skin.” He leaned in for a kiss, staying near her mouth. “I have watched you for the past twenty minutes, love abounding and desire rising. I need you my wife, always.”

  He finished with a sigh, tenderly encompassing her mouth as he merged with her, two bodies now one. They made love again, the end to a perfect night and beginning of an eventful day.

  “Will you please see this reaches Reniswahl Hall as soon as feasible?” Darcy asked the desk clerk, handing a folded parchment with the Darcy seal melted securely over the edge.

  “Certainly, Mr. Darcy.” He motioned toward a page who rushed over.

  Darcy waited patiently while instructions were given and then continued, “Mrs. Darcy and I will be away all day. Please ensure a tray of fresh fruit and drinking water is available in our room.”

  “Of course, sir. If I may inquire, are you planning to enter the Sherwood Forest region? I only intrude as a warning. There have lately been reports of bandits in Nottinghamshire. That ilk always seems to believe the foolishness of the Robin Hood legends lend a credence to their nefarious activities.”

  Darcy scowled. “Romantic ideals of thievery, although I doubt they share their spoils with the average citizens. Thank you for the warning; however, we will not be traveling that far east. Nonetheless, we shall be cautious. Good day.”

  He joined his wife by the carriage, setting off for another excursion abroad. Samuel and Marguerite were freed for the day to ramble through the town and seek their own adventures. The weather was lovely, the sun shining brightly with the promise of sweltering heat in the late afternoon. Currently, though, there was a brisk, cooling breeze. The terrain due east of Chesterfield was identical to the landscape passed all the previous day. Endless rolling hills of green, generally crop covered with the scattered copse of trees and small stone farmhouses. Dotting the beauty were the increasingly frequent black-scarred rubbles of stone indicative of a coal mine.

  “How far under the ground do the rails extend?” Lizzy asked curiously.

  “Miles in some cases, I suppose. I confess to not being well educated on the inner workings of coal mining. The east Midlands is replete with coal. A wonderful blessing for England's economy but depressing for the locals. I envision this area gradually diverting from farms to mines as the years unfold.” He shook his head sadly. “The waves of industry and progress march on, Elizabeth.”

  The eight miles to Bolsover displayed this odd mixture of lush scenery with interspersed mutilated holes. However, the closer they drew to the modest town on the hill, all else faded except the looming vision of Bolsover Castle. The massive keep, a true remnant of a long gone day of medieval knights and chivalry, sat on a prominent bluff as expected, and dominated the entire horizon. They drove up the curving incline to the castle, Darcy launching into his usual narrative.

  “Another claim of the Cavendish family, love. The original medieval castle built during the Norman Conquest is essentially gone, but Lord Cavendish, who acquired the property in the seventeenth century, built his fanciful keep with the original in mind. Therefore, the walls have never withstood a siege, but it certainly looks as if it could!”

  “Do any of the Cavendish family members dwell here?”

  “Not any longer. All the furniture has been removed to Welbeck Abbey and a token staff inhabits to maintain, although the lack of constant upkeep is beginning to show. Lord Cavendish and the bulk of the family remain in Devonshire. The castle is more of a tourist attraction than a home, which is fortunate for us.” He smiled at his wife, leaning for a kiss before they disembarked on the wide lawn before the main entrance to the vast house.

  Thereafter followed a three-hour, leisurely stroll about the estate grounds and tour of the castle public rooms. The recognition by the staff o
f the Darcy crest afforded them greater access than the general visiting public. They walked along the battlement walls, the views, across ostensibly the entire width and length of Derbyshire, absolutely breathtaking. It may not have been a functional castle as in the ancient stories, but the atmosphere was authentic. Lizzy honestly expected to see a shining steel encased knight gallop into the courtyard with lance and broadsword at the ready.

  The interior was as all fine English manors: lavish and well apportioned. Richly painted murals famous for their depiction of romanticism and English Renaissance chivalry graced nearly every wall and ceiling. It was stupendous, if slightly overwhelming. The cavernous feel of the ostentatious rooms was especially noticeable without furnishings.

  Lizzy and Darcy picnicked in solitude in one of the immense courtyards with a bubbling fountain of Venus centrally located. Resuming their journey, Darcy explained the next planned adventure. “I know how you love trees, so thought you would appreciate visiting Whitwell Wood. It is far and away the finest and most sweeping woodland in England, with some four hundred acres of ash, oak, beech, sycamore, and hazel trees predominantly. We can easily swing through the fringes as we veer west toward Eckington and Reniswahl Hall.”

  The roughly six-mile drive was delightful. Leaving the coal mines mostly behind, they passed through areas rich in vegetation mingled with limestone buttes. The cool breeze of earlier in the day had long since dissipated, leaving a rising heat. Darcy opened the windows, aiding his wife with fanning as they left the tiny hamlet of Elmton and casually meandered through the barren countryside.

  The carriage halted unexpectedly, a sharp rap on the roof indicating the driver's wish to converse with the occupant. Darcy frowned, leaning forward to the open window.

  “Yes, Mr. Anders?”

  “Sir, pardon the intrusion, but there appears to be an overturned wagon ahead. Should we stop to check it out?”

  “Are there any people about?”

  “Not that I can see from here, sir.”

  Darcy thought for a moment, peering out the window at the empty landscape. “Approach slowly and be cautious. Halt if anyone is visibly hurt. Phillips, be alert and prepared.”

  “Yes sir,” they echoed, the carriage moving forward slowly.

  “Elizabeth, pull the shades on your side and stay back,” he commanded tensely, reaching to assure the doors were securely latched and to shut the window.

  “Do you suspect something amiss, William?” she asked, voice strained.

  He glanced over his shoulder with a quick smile. “I am sure it is nothing, love, but wisdom begs for caution.” He resumed his watchfulness to the outside, running a hand under the seat briefly. Eventually he glimpsed the aforementioned wagon lying upside down and partially in the road. Immediate bells rang in his head as there were neither horses nearby nor the expected cargo strewn about the ground. The region surrounding was rocky, with numerous trees thinly spaced on either side of the road, but relatively flat with narrow depressions and hollows. Nonetheless, the road was a well maintained one without ruts or ditches, no loose boulders on tall cliffs or other ready causes to overturn a wagon.

  He sensed Lizzy closely behind him before she spoke. “Sit back!” he snapped, Lizzy obeying reflexively to his terse demand. Darcy patted her knee to ease his rudeness precisely as all hell broke loose outside.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Death Interrupts

  A loud shout sounded from above and a gunshot crack rang out. The carriage stopped precipitously with a lurch as several voices erupted with yells. Lizzy released a startled squeal as Darcy's hand flashed under the seat. She gasped and eyes widened at the sight of the pistol he retrieved and hastily tucked into the waistband of his breeches at the small of his back. Eyes yet riveted to the window, he reached behind to squeeze her leg, jerking backward in reflex when a grizzled face abruptly appeared at the window.

  Lizzy clutched frantically onto Darcy's arm, heart pounding crazily. The man outside brandished a pistol, gesturing for Darcy to exit the carriage. “Elizabeth,” Darcy's deceptively calm and icy voice commanded, “stay inside if you are allowed; otherwise, keep close and to my left side. Do not argue or resist and keep your eyes on me.”

  She nodded, not that he could see her as his focus was on the angry man outside, who was now banging on the locked door. Darcy unlocked and opened the carriage door, holding his hands up so the man could see he was unarmed.

  “Get out! Now!”

  Darcy complied with a quick glance at his wife. Lizzy could see the towering fury in the steeliness of his eyes and clenched jaw, but she also saw the intense fear that she knew was all for her. She kept her seat in hopes that it would be over quickly, the bandits surely wanting money which Darcy could provide, and then they could be on their way. Terror paralyzed her, rising further as the burly man grabbed her husband's arm as he descended and yanked hard, Darcy stumbling on the steps. He righted himself, straightening to his full and impressive height, broad shoulders blocking the doorway.

  “I have money,” Darcy offered in a tone of cold authority and command, “take it and be on your way.”

  “Not so fast, guv’ner,” a voice answered. “We are in charge here. I reckon a smart lookin’ fella like you has got more than just a money belt.”

  “Check inside, Clyde,” another voice spoke. “He ain’t alone. And you, up there, throw us the luggage and get down.”

  “There is no luggage,” Lizzy heard Mr. Anders reply.

  Darcy interrupted, “My wife and I are on a pleasure ride. We have nothing but the clothing on our backs. Allow me to give you…”

  “Enough!” shouted the first voice. “You two, down! Clyde, move rich boy out of the way and get the wife! She probably weighs a ton with jewels.”

  Darcy pivoted quickly, leaning in for Lizzy before Clyde could obey his boss. “Elizabeth, come. Stay close.”

  “Out of the way!” Clyde yelled, grabbing Darcy's arm. “I am in charge here!”

  Darcy's face was livid, Lizzy panic stricken as he turned to the highwayman with a gleam of pure murder evident. “My wife is with child. I will assist her from the carriage…”

  Suddenly the pistol was pointed square at Darcy's forehead, a mere inch away. “You will step away, hero, and do as I say.” The moment seemed to stretch, although in truth it was only a fraction of a second, as Darcy glared into the eyes of the thief.

  Lizzy leapt forward. “William, it is alright. I can exit myself. Please step back as he said!” Darcy looked at her, absolute terror warring with supreme fury. He nodded brusquely and stepped away, but only a foot, his eyes never leaving Lizzy. She carefully disembarked, Clyde near with pistol waving between her and Darcy. Darcy instantly and painfully gripped her right elbow, pulling her to his left and predominantly behind his body.

  This is the scene as Lizzy now beheld it: She and Darcy stood near the rear of the coach with the identified Clyde now pointing the gun straight at Darcy's chest. Mr. Anders and Phillips were positioned by the lead set of horses, another scruffy, dirty bandit covering them with a pistol. The remaining two highwaymen were some ten feet to the side of the road, mounted on horses with muskets loaded and aimed, pistols on each hip. Compared to the two mangy-looking characters on the ground, these two men were fierce and hardened. One appeared to be in his thirties, commanding and calm, a faint smile playing about his lips as if this sort of behavior was of tremendous amusement. The second man was quite young and handsome in a rugged way, probably about Lizzy's age, but there was an edge of menace in his flat, grey eyes that was altogether frightening. He was staring at Lizzy in a manner far too bold and extremely discomforting.

  Darcy was rigid, the tension radiating in nearly visible waves. Lizzy could hear him taking deep breaths in an effort to regain control of his emotions and anger. For her part, Lizzy had never experienced such fear, even when facing Orman. The sensation of being utterly at the whimsical mercy of men with obvious low morals and disdain for the law was petr
ifying for her, but to a man of generally supreme dominance like Darcy, it was torture. The internal struggle to overcome formidable rage and equally daunting anxiety for his wife was enough to buckle him, but he fought the emotions and gradually mastered.

  Mere seconds had passed; the older mounted man finally speaking, his voice identifying him as the first man Lizzy had heard and undoubtedly the leader. “Lou, check the pockets of those two,” he waved to Mr. Anders and Phillips. “They are servants, so likely have nothing, but we may get lucky. Victor,” he said as he nudged his fellow horseman, “get the jack-a-dandy's money clip and check the woman. Clyde, keep our hero in your sights. I don’t trust ’im.”

  Victor dismounted, drawing his pistol and pulling a canvas sack out of his saddlebag. He approached with a swagger, grinning evilly. “Hand it over and don’t fuss. Doubt the loss will hurt you any.”

  Darcy moved warily, removing his money clip, which was quite thick due to his planned evening of gaming with Rory Sitwell, and retrieved his pocket watch, placing both in the sack. Lizzy bit her lip to prevent a whine escaping. The pocket watch she knew had been a gift from his father when Darcy graduated Cambridge and was therefore dear to him.

  “That's it?” Victor asked in doubt. “Thought you dandies carried all kinds of useless baubles.” He patted the pockets of Darcy's jacket and waistcoat, Lizzy nerveless with the certainty that he would discover the hidden pistol, but he did not. His search apparently focused on hidden treasures without suspecting a “dandy” would have a weapon.

  “There is nearly three hundred pounds there and the watch is valuable. You have no complaints.” Darcy's voice was quiet and placid. Lizzy, however, saw the clenching jaw and thin-set lips, as well as detecting the muted iron in his tone. Victor stared into Darcy's eyes, clearly noting the same and considering it a challenge of sorts.

  Peering unblinking at Darcy, he addressed Lizzy, “How's about you, pretty? Got something for me?” His tone was lecherous and not lost on Darcy, who stiffened even further and gripped Lizzy's arm so firmly she nearly yelped from the pain. Victor's leer broadened as he suddenly shot a hand out and grabbed Lizzy's left arm, yanking her forward.