Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice Sequel Bundle: 3 Reader Favorites

by Linda Berdoll

  Lord Matlock’s private physician was consulted and he concurred, greatly easing Darcy’s mind. Lady Matlock arrived two days after the accident and stayed, taking over Lizzy’s care from Mrs. Reynolds so the housekeeper could resume her duties. Georgiana and Marguerite were diligent companions as well, allowing Darcy the freedom to attend to his own needs, such as bathing and shaving and eating regularly. Nonetheless, he was never further than the next room. In fact, he did not move past the third-floor landing for more than a week, only traveling that far twice for brief conversations with Mr. Keith.

  He wrote to her father, explaining briefly what had transpired and ensuring him that Lizzy was recuperating rapidly. He politely asked him to apprize the Gardiners and Bingleys, pledging to write further once the immediate crisis was alleviated. Col. Fitzwilliam, notified by his father, breezed in five days after the accident, providing support and a bit of light humor and diversion, originally not well appreciated by Darcy but eventually helpful in restoring balance and easing his gloominess. The plethora of flowers and well wishes from the families of the community was truly staggering. Darcy was awed. He scattered the blooms throughout the bedchamber, adding fresh ones from the conservatory and gardens, so the room was a rainbow of color and sweet aromas.

  Once Darcy relinquished his anxiety over Lizzy’s health, he turned his consideration to the event itself. Her bad temper, resulting in their ridiculous argument, he attributed to possible pregnancy and their mutual stupidity and obstinacy. By what he ascertained from Georgiana and the staff he questioned, Lizzy had been in a cheerful, exuberant mood and perfectly healthy when she set off to pick berries. The groom who had discovered the strewn berries and discarded bucket had little to tell. Her footprints leading into the forest were clear and solitary.

  The road itself was one well traveled by both carriages and pedestrians. There were other footprints near Mrs. Darcy’s as well as marks from a carriage, the groom said, but there was no way to deduce with confidence if they were related, nor would it help much anyway. When Darcy asked if he had noted turkey tracks, the groom had answered a baffled negative. The mystery of it gnawed at Darcy, but he saw no way to solve it, so he had to abandon the quest for enlightenment for the time being.

  By the end of the eleventh day after the accident, Lizzy’s headaches were minimal and tolerable; however, her amnesia surrounding the day of the accident persisted. The stitches had been removed from the laceration to her head, her bruises were almost invisible, and her ankle only twinged slightly. She had occasional bouts of nausea, but it appeared to be lessening. She passed most of the daylight hours awake with only short naps, and was beginning to experience the restlessness of her forced confinement in their chambers.

  Darcy carried her to the sitting room and window seat with increasing frequency as her headaches diminished. The doctor said she must stay off her foot for at least a week longer but could be moved farther afield, provided she did not overtax herself. Their chambers were unquestionably Lizzy’s favorite rooms in all of Pemberley, but she longed to leave them. Darcy promised her that in the morning he would carry her to whichever room she wished to visit. This pleased her and she kissed him gratefully.

  He returned the kiss chastely and then pulled away, tucking the blankets around her snuggly before retreating. Each evening he did this, sitting near and tenderly caressing her hand as she fell asleep. After that he read or, on occasion, moved to his desk, left the door open, and attended to business, eventually joining her on their massive bed. However, he slept in a nightshirt on top of the down comforter and under his own blanket, and other than holding her hand, avoided any physical contact.

  Until the past four nights, Lizzy had been in too much discomfort and far too weary to lament her husband’s caution. She understood he fretted over her well-being, but the truth was that his lack of affection was troubling her more than anything. She yearned for his love with a desire that was partially emotional and spiritual but, frankly, was largely lustful.

  Her preoccupation and urges invaded her sleep. In the middle of the night she roused fully to the always succulent view of her stunningly alluring husband sprawled beside her deep in slumber. Wasting no time on contemplation, she carefully slipped out from under her blankets and nestled next to his warm body. He sighed and reflexively gathered her into his arms. Lizzy had a clear agenda and it did not include sleep.

  Knowing well the form of caresses and kisses arousing to him, she employed them all, the instantaneous response exactly as she anticipated. He moaned, his craving as strong as hers even in sleep. He sought her mouth, kissing her with the pent-up passion of a near fortnight without her, combined with the residual terror of possibly losing her forever. His hands acted of their own accord, pressing her tightly into the hard planes of his body before he snapped awake.

  With a gasp he pulled away, grasping her fondling hands in a firm grip, and pleading breathlessly, “Elizabeth, please! We cannot… we must not…”

  “It is alright, my love. I am feeling much better and I need you, Fitzwilliam. I want you to love me. I know you will be gentle,” she smiled at his worried face, leaning in to kiss him, “although I make no promises that I will be.” She teasingly claimed his lips and he groaned, giving in for a moment of utter delight and then shuddering as he again pulled away, rapidly sitting up on the edge of the bed with his back to her.

  He cradled his head in his hands and she could see him shaking. “Fitzwilliam, what is it? You are scaring me! I assure you I am fine, and I know you desire me.” She rose up and wrapped her arms about his waist, laying her cheek against his back. “Do not try to deny it, beloved; I know you too well.”

  He clutched her hands against his abdomen, partly to comfort her and partly to prevent her roaming any lower, and spoke shakily. “My heart, my ardor for you has attained a critical level, have no fear of that. It is just… . I have not spoken to the doctor about this…”

  “The doctor! What in the world does the doctor have to say about our lovemaking? William, you are being ridiculous, and I cannot fathom why you would contemplate discussing this with a stranger!”

  He stood up abruptly and began pacing, not meeting her eyes. “Elizabeth, there is something… we deemed it wise not to… you have been so ill, and I could not bear…” He trailed off and Lizzy identified his extreme distress.

  She was terrified but also miffed that they had kept something obviously important from her. “Fitzwilliam Darcy, I insist you sit down this second and tell me what is going on! We promised to harbor no secrets. Whatever it is, I have the right to know and we must deal with it together.”

  He looked at her with such misery on his lovely face, misery as she had witnessed during the first few days of her recovery. “William, if you do not come to me, I swear I will get up and walk over to you!” To prove her intent she started scooting to the edge of the bed, prompting him to step quickly.

  “No, Elizabeth, relax. You are correct. I must tell you.” He sat next to her and grasped her hands, gazing into her eyes. “Beloved, when I found you… on the day of your accident… you were bleeding copiously from… Your fall probably resulted in a miscarriage and I…” He swallowed, too overcome to continue as he watched her, and stroked her cheek. “My love, Elizabeth, I am so sorry!”

  Lizzy was staring at him, a puzzled frown on her face. She did not reply for several minutes then, “I heard a probably in there. What precisely happened and what information did the physician impart?”

  Darcy inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, “Your blood had soaked through your skirts and onto my shirt.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  He opened his eyes in surprise at her teasing tone, further amazed to see her smiling slightly. He shook his head faintly, “My clothing was ruined already, so it is insignificant. Elizabeth, are you alright?”

  “Pray continue, William.”

  He frowned, “Very well. The physician asked me if we suspected you might be with child, to which
I replied it was possible. I informed him that your monthly cycle was late and you were… edgy. He told me that can be a sign.” Lizzy nodded and flushed, hanging her head in shamed remembrance. “He said the bleeding may be indicative of a miscarriage, but he could not be certain.”

  “Why not?”

  “The hemorrhaging was not as extensive as usually seen and ceased quickly, although he ruminated that the early stage of your condition could affect that. Of course, you may not have been pregnant at all. He also expected the bleeding to continue but it did not.” He halted, sighed greatly, and ran his hand over his face. “I do not know, Elizabeth. I confess to avoiding the topic. It is too painful.”

  Lizzy cupped his face with her hands and kissed him tenderly. “My sweet love,” she whispered, meeting his eyes and smiling, “let me reveal to you what I know. Aside from this bleeding which I do not remember and by the physician’s own admission was questionable, I am now approximately six weeks late, and I am never late. There is the craziness of my attitude, for which I profoundly apologize. Madeline shared with me that she suffered the same moodiness with her pregnancies. I am sure your uncle would commiserate.”

  She laughed softly and kissed him again, lingeringly. “Every morning I wake and am queasy. It may be residual of the head trauma, yet why do I feel ill only in the morning and before I even move? Lastly,” she grasped one of his hands and planted it squarely on her breast, “what do you feel?”

  Darcy had raptly absorbed her words, his quick intellect and education on the subject nimbly locking the pieces of the puzzle together with heightened excitement. His intimacy with her precious body instantaneously recognized the answer to her query. “You are fuller!”

  “Yes, and they are tender, so gently, please,” she teased, threading her arms around his neck and shifting so that she was on his lap. “Fitzwilliam, I am not positive. Perhaps the physician will be able to verify. I desperately desire for our baby to be safe inside me, and I think it is. However, none of this can be resolved at one in the morning. Therefore, I propose less discussion and pleasant,” light kiss, “arousing,” nibbling, “satisfying activities. Oh, William! I have missed you so! At the risk of sounding horribly selfish, all I want now is you. I cannot survive another night without your arms around me. I love you and I need you.”

  She kissed him ardently, pouring all her yearning and passion into the task, and he responded accordingly. With an aching groan he pushed her back onto the bed, cautiously and carefully showing her how intensively he loved, required, and hungered for her. Cold rationality was sluggish in surfacing.

  With a throaty cry reminiscent of true pain, he untangled himself from her, clasping her face in tremulous hands, closing his eyes for a moment, and inhaling deeply. “God in Heaven, help me! My sweet Lizzy, my love, you surely know how fervid my passion for you. It is eating me alive, I need you so! I cannot, please, I beg you… If I hurt you in any way, if I hurt our child, Elizabeth, I… I could not live with that! Please, I promise we will talk to the doctor tomorrow, obtain answers. Tell me you understand, beloved?”

  “Shhh… Fitzwilliam, I understand, I do.” She wiped his tears, her own pooling in her eyes as her lips trembled. In a small pleading voice, “Please do not make me sleep over there alone. I… I… I want you to hold me! Will you please hold me, William? I promise to behave.”

  He laughed softly and pulled her into his embrace, nestling her head on his shoulder as he drew the blankets over them. “I will never let you go, Lizzy, never. If ever again you move to my mother’s bedchamber, I will batter down the door!”

  The physician’s appointment was for the afternoon. After breakfast Darcy carried Lizzy to her parlor where she rested and was entertained by Georgiana, Lady Matlock, and Col. Fitzwilliam. She wrote several letters to her family and friends in the neighborhood. She had experienced some thirty minutes of nausea that morning, alleviated by the tea and toast Marguerite had begun bringing her each morning. Darcy had smiled brightly at her discomfort, which normally might have annoyed her, but she understood his emotions and was so blissful herself that she merely smiled in return, if a bit wanly.

  He insisted she nap after lunch, a command that no one bothered to counter even though it was abundantly clear she was not the least fatigued. Lady Matlock returned home that afternoon, leaving Georgiana and Richard to amuse themselves, a task they would end up doing until the morrow.

  The physician arrived and was momentarily dumbstruck, and Darcy embarrassed, as he had barely entered the room when Lizzy bluntly demanded he examine her feminine regions and tell her husband their marital relations must resume. Darcy nearly choked and hurriedly exited the room, but the doctor recovered quickly. After a thorough investigation of all areas, feminine and otherwise, he called for Darcy. The news was all positive.

  Aside from her amnesia, which may never resolve, her head was declared healed. The ankle required another week or so of cautious activity but in a few more days, she could, with assistance, begin tentatively using it. Her feminine regions showed no sign of injury, the bleeding never having resumed. As for pregnancy, it remained too early to assert definitively, although he concurred with the symptoms as those indicative of the state. His gentle palpations had revealed a possibly enlarged womb, but, again, too soon for explicitness. Nonetheless, his cautious diagnosis was that Elizabeth was likely with child.

  The affectionate and blatantly amorous glances shared by Darcy and his wife at the news brought an empathetic smile to the doctor’s face, and he hastily gathered his instruments. Darcy grinned stunningly at his wife as he escorted the doctor out, mouthing I love you as the door shut. He did manage to overcome his natural reticence and mortification for several pointed questions of his own before the physician bid adieu. He then literally ascended the stairs two and three at a time in his eagerness to return to his wife.

  Darcy found his wife sitting placidly on their bed after quickly summoning Marguerite to assist changing her into a filmy rose-colored nightgown and brushing her hair. Darcy entered briskly, having shed his coat and waistcoat haphazardly in the sitting room. His eyes locked with Lizzy’s the second he crossed the threshold, his pace slowing as his smile broadened, lighting his face with an incandescent jubilance. He sat next to her, merely gazing.

  “What took you so long?” she asked with a teasing smile.

  He laughed softly, reaching one hand to brush the hair away from her right temple. “I needed to ask the physician a few questions for my own enlightenment and the foyer is a great distance. Even my legs can only take the steps so fast.”

  She cocked her head to the side and grinned while running one hand up his thigh. “Questions? In the lengthy interval you have forgotten how it is done, beloved?”

  He chuckled but deigned not to answer. Instead he leaned toward her, brushing his lips tenderly along the scar at her temple and then to her ear, her jawline, and eventually her mouth as she shuddered and sighed with contentment. “Beautiful wife,” he murmured, “I love you, and I adore you, my Lizzy.”

  They caressed each other dreamily, their yearning intense, yet the thrill in the simple act of touching and kissing mesmerized them for a spell. He moved away eventually only to remove boots and shirt before gathering her tightly into his arms and stretching onto their bed.

  Lizzy moaned happily and squeezed him with all her strength. “Fitzwilliam, you are the best man in the world! I love you with all my soul.”

  Darcy was gentle and tender as promised. Lizzy was consumed with her need for him, but he languidly touched and caressed her satiny skin, his only haste in divesting her of the lovely but obstructive gown. Despite the physician’s assurances, he privately worried and had no intention of allowing his pent-up passions to overrule his caution. The end result was a lovemaking session of stupendous proportions as their mutual desire and yearning built slowly and was controlled.

  They lay on their sides face to face, each exploring the other’s body almost as if for the first time. D
arcy kissed each fading bruise and healing laceration and worked his way to her slightly swollen and colorful ankle, kissing and massaging gently. His hands moved over her body delicately, rivers of fire following in their wake. His mouth traveled as well, to each beautifully formed and slightly fuller breast, down her abdomen, dipping into her navel, and in all ways driving her mad with desire.

  As he worshipped her body, awakening and spiraling her passionate lust, his heart remembered the agony of almost losing her. It was still so real to him, the torture of those days. Fear continued to clutch his soul and his thankfulness to God for returning her to him was overwhelming. His need to love her, please her, touch her, and unite with her as can only be accomplished through the act of lovemaking drove him to astounding heights of arousal.

  As tremendous as his urgency to be joined with her, his thirst to taste and touch and smell every inch of her flesh impelled him to proceed slowly. In consequence, Lizzy had never been so stimulated. Always she was satisfied in their lovemaking, stunned at the intensity of the glorious sensations that throbbed through her body when he masterfully coaxed her to rapture. Perhaps it was the long absence of his touch; perhaps it was the prolonged foreplay, or more likely a combination of both. Whatever the case, she was feverish in her craving for him.

  “Fitzwilliam,” she sighed in a tone of elation, “I missed you so! I love you… I love you… I love you…” Almost sobbing, she captured his lips in a crushing kiss, and with a deep groan he finally merged with her.