My Dearest Mr. Darcy: An Amazing Journey into Love Everlasting tds-3

by Sharon Lathan

  She sighed, a small smile of contentment on her lips. “For the first time in weeks I do not feel weighted down and off center. This is marvelous.”

  Silence fell, Darcy enamored. She was radiant in her happiness and, as suspected, the wet clinging shift left nothing to the imagination. His wife's incredible body with perky breasts and hard nipples, lissome legs, dainty feet and toes, precious swollen abdomen, delicate shoulders and collarbone all lay before his ravenous eyes. His arousal, well on the way since disrobing in the machine, was now complete. He cleared his throat, dragging his thoughts harshly away from the vision of hungrily loving her on the warm sand.

  “Is it so burdensome carrying our child?”

  She opened her eyes, gazing with overpowering love into the depths of his blue orbs. “Not in the least burdensome. The changes are odd, wearying at times, and I do feel awkward, but it is never a burden. Can I tell you something? I never imagined, since loving you so wholeheartedly, that I could possibly love someone as greatly, until now. He is not here yet, I do not know what he shall look like, or what his personality shall be, but I already love him with all my soul. It is rather strange, but so wonderful. How could I then deem his presence inside me a burden?”

  Darcy had told her once that on occasion she said or did something that was so amazing to him that the emotions surging through his soul were nigh on unbearable in their intensity. This was such a time. As inadequate as it was, all he could manage was a brilliant smile, his eyes misting and larynx constricting.

  Lizzy rolled out of his arms, turning about and clasping onto his forearms. “What next, teacher?” she asked teasingly, pulling herself into his chest with hands sliding down his back to derriere while wrapping her legs about his thighs. “Back stroke? Breast stroke?” Squeezing his rump firmly, she snared his lower lip and sucked, easy to accomplish as his mouth had parted open in avid yearning.

  Darcy groaned, regulation and propriety forgotten. He cupped her face, applying fervid pressure to her mouth. Lizzy responded blissfully for a moment, startling him when she abruptly launched backward, using his body like a wall. Performing a number of perfectly executed backstrokes, she smoothly traversed the distance to the bathing machine steps. Her laughter floated on the air as he stood rooted to the spot. She settled onto the lower steps, body mostly submerged, observing his surprise with a naughty grin.

  “As you can see, Fitzwilliam, I already know the backstroke. Perhaps you can show me the breast stroke?” She unbuttoned the top of her shift as she spoke, peering at him through lowered lashes.

  Darcy grinned lasciviously, crossing the short space with a cleanly performed breaststroke, grasping onto the rails and pulling himself up until hovering over, muscles rippling and hairs black. He leaned in, lips brushing her upturned mouth, whispering huskily, “I love you, Elizabeth. God, how I love you! Please tell me I can make love to you here in this inappropriate place as I desperately burn for you and cannot return to the hotel in my current state!”

  Lizzy reached to fondle him, Darcy moaning loudly, her legs drawing him closer. “I confessed I wished to seduce you, did I not? Love me, Fitzwilliam, please.” Nodding curtly, he claimed her mouth, devouring in his thirst for her. Releasing the rails for a far preferable grip to her breasts and bottom, Darcy united with his wife in one rawly penetrating motion.

  On Christmas Eve they had first discovered the joy of making love in the tub, a blissfully rapturous interlude that they had repeated numerous times since. The sublime combined sensations of warm water surrounding their bodies while passion raged internally created a liaison of exquisite proportions. This assignation was both similar and yet superbly variant. Their bodies flamed, heat rising immeasurably until skin flushed; small bumps spreading over flesh fiery from within while chilled from the cold water and balmy air without, the fusion heightening the tactility of every touch and caress.

  It was heavenly! For not the first time in their marriage they each wondered how it was possible for passion to soar to a higher pinnacle than yet attained. Darcy could not control himself, moving harshly within her in a frenzied voracity. Fleetingly he worried that he may be too rough, never wishing to harm her in any way, but she met his pace equally and propelled him on. The chill water swirled over their flaming flesh, surrounding and surging their most intimate regions as they loved. The racing sensations were inexplicably powerful.

  Their culmination, when it finally arrived, swept through them in a torrent, shouts released in unrestrained ecstasy, only later thankfully recalling their isolation.

  “Have fun, beloved, but be careful. I do not want to hear of my husband being caught in an undertow or snared in kelp.”

  “I shall be cautious. See you in a couple hours.” He kissed her cheek and squeezed her hands before striding briskly toward the pier. Lizzy watched his tall, elegant figure until he disappeared from view, and turned toward the lodge with a sigh. She was not overly worried about him swimming in the open ocean, although the possible dangers were real. Mainly she recognized that she would miss him, but knowing how greatly he adored vigorous athletic pursuits, and swimming being one infrequently partaken, she could not deny him the activity.

  The men bathed on the far side of the pier; the pier itself closed down for the afternoon to prevent any peeking, not that there was a woman alive who would admit to such voyeurism. Darcy had told her that most resorts scheduled male swimming in this manner. He said that most men preferred to swim in the nude; Darcy did, although some wore breeches or bathing outfits that were basically a type of long underwear of light wool. The vision of a company of nude men splashing about the waves was far too humorous to resist imagining, despite her embarrassment.

  She sighed again. In truth, she would give anything to see her virile spouse with muscles contracting and tensing as he cut cleanly through the water. Granted the brief view of his strokes while with her that morning and well familiar with his manly physique, the picture was readily conjured and she shivered involuntarily. Stifling a highly unseemly moan, she entered the common room.

  Those women left alone while their husbands or fathers bathed milled about conversing and sipping tea. Lizzy was greeted enthusiastically, her natural gregariousness rising to the fore. In no time at all she had formed numerous casual friendships and received a dozen invitations to dine at group tables. The array of women revealed a diversity of situations. Three young women were newly married like herself, one on her honeymoon and another pregnant with her first child as well. There were several unmarried maidens touring with families. The bulk of the women were older, enjoying holidays with husbands of many years or even decades. A final group consisted of the spinster sisters traveling with a brother; a widow and her companion; and Lady Eloise Underwood, a woman in her mid-thirties boldly traveling alone with servants only.

  Lizzy had a delightful afternoon, tremendously entertained with titillating discourse, delicious snacks, and several games of whist. She returned to their chambers well after Darcy, who was already bathed and dressing for dinner. Not surprisingly, he had communicated sparingly with his fellow swimmers, learned only four names that he could effortlessly recall, and received no invitations to dine. He shrugged his shoulders, utterly apathetic to the lack of society, but more than willing to join a group table if it pleased his wife.

  For their second night Darcy relented and they dined with a group of fellow visitors. He quashed with some difficulty the surge of possessiveness that reared, recognizing his wife's natural gregariousness that allowed her to make friends so easily and thrill in casual socializing. They dined in one of the larger dining chambers, elegantly furnished and softly illuminated by flickering candle chandeliers. Wide windows offered a view of the northern wood illuminated faintly by the moon. They were joined by Lady Eloise Underwood; the widowed Mrs. Alcastor and her companion Miss Stein; the Henner family, consisting of a husband and wife and two teenaged daughters; and Lord and Lady Stewart, a middle-aged couple with three children who were saf
ely at home in Kent. Darcy was by far the most taciturn member of the assembly, although Lord Stewart was nearly as silent. The two men eventually discovered an equal passion for horses, a topic that would carry them through the evening.

  The after-dinner recreation, aside from the usual games of cards, chess, and backgammon, was a silhouette party. Lizzy had read of the art form but never beheld the process. The fad of tracing silhouettes, or shades, began in France in the mid-1700s and was popularized by King George III with “shade parties” a favored amusement amongst the royal elite. The artist employed for the next three nights at the Caister Seaside Resort was a German who lived in Norwich and traveled up and down the coastal towns plying his talent.

  Lizzy was thrilled by the idea of obtaining a tracing of her husband's profile and Darcy enchanted with having one of her, so they both consented to sit for the artist and purchase the portrait. Artists employed differing techniques and materials, but all focused on the profile. The concept was simple: A bright lantern was positioned near the subject's face, casting a shadow onto a white paper screen. The shade was then traced, to be later cut by hand onto black parchment or fabric, craftily embellished with slashed cuts for collars or jewels or other details, mounted onto a white background, and then framed.

  The evening's diversion was tremendous fun, the German droll and cheerful as well as a gifted artisan. Darcy and Lizzy decided to place their shapes facing each other on the same picture, lightly bronzed and elaborately framed. It was a fine piece of art that would hang in their sitting room as a remembrance of this holiday for the whole of their lives.

  It was late when they crawled into their bed, Lizzy already drifting into slumber when her warm-bodied spouse nestled against her back. He drew her close, wrapping limbs about her and kissing a bare shoulder.

  “Good night, my heart,” she whispered sleepily, twining her fingers between the longer ones lying on her belly. “Sleep well. I love you.”

  “I love you, Elizabeth,” he answered with a gigantic yawn, kissing her ear and promptly falling asleep. Thus ended their first full day by the sea: sleeping deeply with cooling breezes and the muted sounds of crashing waves entering the half-open window.

  “Here you are, Elizabeth.”

  “Thank you, dearest.” Lizzy smiled into her husband's eyes as she reached to take the tall glass of mixed fruit juice from his hand. “What do you have there?”

  He placed the small linen-wrapped basket he held in his hand, the subject of her query, onto the little table between their chairs. Responding as he reclaimed his seat, “I thought while I was retrieving beverages for us I would also snare a snack. Completely selfish on my part as I did not wish to trudge up to the inn thirty minutes from now when you suddenly realized you have not eaten in two hours.” He grinned while Lizzy rolled her eyes.

  “Walking some hundred feet hardly qualifies as trudging, Mr. Darcy, and my increased appetite is all your doing, as we have established.”

  “As you wish, Elizabeth. I brought those pecan scones you like so much, some raspberries, and two bananas.” He picked up his book, stretching long legs onto the lounger with a contented sigh.

  It was their third day at the resort and thus far they had traveled no farther than the beach, pier, and pathways through the wood. Darcy had a whole list of local entertainments, most of which they did wish to visit, but the delight of leisurely hours staring at the waves and swimming was currently taking precedence. Both days they had risen later than usual, foregoing any bedroom activities to join the other guests for a lingering breakfast as the nightly mist departed. They had missed the sunrises, one of the items on Darcy's list, but the play of morning sunlight on the water and thinning fog was an enchanting backdrop while dining.

  At some point in the day they utilized the bathing machine for an hour or two. Darcy did teach his wife to swim, the only stroke she was moderately proficient at being the backstroke. Modesty and safety prevented him steering her too far from the machine, even though they were well away from any potential prying eyes. Lizzy enjoyed the lessons and not merely because Darcy was the teacher. The water was colder then she would have preferred, but bracing and revitalizing nonetheless. Mostly it was the sense of balance and gracefulness she felt in the water that was appealing. Of course, they did manage to waste a great deal of time in horseplay with splashing, diving for rocks, tickling, and dunking. Inevitably the session ended with exquisite lovemaking.

  Now they sat on padded, wooden lounge chairs located on the sand. An umbrella shaded them from the harsh sun. This area of the beach, the southern edge of the private expanse nearest the pier, was well away from the bathing machines situated to the left by the rocks. Numerous chairs and umbrellas were set to accommodate the guests. Several children frolicked in the surf, their squeals of glee mingling with seagull squawks and crashing waves. It was wholly relaxing, peaceful, and refreshing. The days were comfortably warm with the oppressive heat of Derbyshire left far behind; cooling, gentle breezes replete with the tang of salt and fish flowed intermittently.

  Lizzy sipped her drink and nibbled on a scone while applying the finishing touches on a gown for their baby. Darcy read, naturally, Montesquieu having been completed so now he was studying the dry textbook on marine wildlife and vegetation with intent interest.

  “Look here, love.” He spoke into the silence, holding the page up for her inspection. “A drawing of those birds we saw yesterday by the rocks. An Arctic tern. I thought it was in the tern family, but the markings were different. They are indigenous to the polar regions, not seen frequently this far south. Listen to this: they migrate year-round from the Arctic to the Antarctic, making them one of the farthest traveling bird species known. They seek the summers in both places, rarely in their lifetime experiencing night. How fascinating!”

  Lizzy smiled, displaying the appropriate amount of interest before resuming her own task. It was not that she found learning the names and habits of God's creatures unworthy, but her thirst for absorbing all knowledge to the tiniest degree was not as unquenchable as it was for Darcy. She was frankly flabbergasted that he could attend to the thick manual page after page as if riveting literature. What was even more astounding is that she knew he would assimilate and regurgitate eighty percent of what he read fifty years hence, his memory phenomenal.

  The Henners wandered by, the thirteen- and fifteen-year-old daughters shyly glancing at Darcy, who was oblivious. “Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy,” Mr. Henner greeted with a bow, Mrs. Henner dropping a curtsey and softly greeting. “I pray your afternoon is progressing delightfully?”

  “Very much, Mr. Henner. Thank you. Are you leaving the beach?”

  Mr. Henner nodded. “The ladies are gathering for a swim. The menfolk will be meeting for faro in the game room. Will you be participating, Mr. Darcy?”

  Lizzy stifled a laugh as a cough, Darcy ignoring her as he replied, “Thank you, but no. I will be bathing later, however. See you then, Mr. Henner?”

  “Absolutely! Enjoy the sea air, Mrs. Darcy.” They left, the girls giggling and whispering.

  “William, if you wish to play cards, I do not mind. You do it so rarely that you should leap at the chance.”

  “I play rarely because I am hopelessly inept and unlucky, and I do not particularly enjoy the game. I may appeal to your magnanimity for a game or two of billiards this evening, however. Lord Stewart plays, as does Baron Noble. Would another short separation disturb you, dearest?”

  “Of course not. I will miss you, but I am certain I can find some activity to soothe my broken heart.” She reached over and squeezed his hand, Darcy smiling and squeezing in return. He returned to his book, Lizzy staring into the sea. After barely two days she felt as if they had been here a week. As enormously thrilling as their Derbyshire excursion had been, the fast pace had allowed little time for prolonged periods of relaxation. Here they spent inordinate amounts of time doing absolutely nothing, and it was fantastic. Lizzy would hesitate to admit it to her overprotectiv
e spouse, but her burgeoning body was gradually beginning to complain at the alterations! Personally she never would have imagined ever reaching a state of mind where lying lazily about was prodigious, but it was happening.

  Lost in his text for God knows how long, Darcy was jolted to awareness by a piercing squeal from the water. It was only the children playing, Darcy smiling at their antics as he turned to his wife with a comment only to find her sound asleep. With a frown he realized that the sun had moved past the sheltering umbrella, the left side of her fair face dewy with perspiration from the direct rays. With a mumbled curse at himself, he rose hastily and readjusted the umbrella stand. He touched her cheek gingerly so as not to wake her, sending a silent prayer heavenward for his timing as the skin was unburned.

  His eyebrows shot up when he noted the late hour on his pocketwatch, the time for men's bathing ten minutes away. He cautiously adjusted Lizzy's bonnet to further protect her face, studied the sun for a moment and moved the umbrella a bit more, only then satisfied enough to leave her napping. He knelt, gently rubbing over her abdomen and brushing the fingers resting there, leaning for a soft kiss to her head. Resisting the urge to kiss their child with difficulty, several loitering resort guests already peering at him oddly, he rose and crossed to one of the servants standing at attention by the beach edge.

  “My good man,” he began, pressing a five-pound note into the stunned servant's hand, “my wife is sleeping under that umbrella there. I am going bathing. I require you to watch the sun's movements and ensure she remains shaded. Wake her if this becomes impossible. When she wakens, inform her where I have gone and assist her to our room. Send for me if necessary.”