Darcy snapped, sitting up and grasping her legs as Lizzy fell onto the bed. Within seconds he was over her, skirt rapidly moved aside, and he claimed her with a hoarse growl. It was over in seconds, yet still rapturous and intense. It was rushed, manic, dynamic, glorious, and wholly fulfilling.
Collapsing in consummate bliss, Darcy rolled to the side with her encased in his arms. “Elizabeth Darcy, you take my breath away, literally.” He inhaled deep and shuddering, laughing shakily. “No sooner do I think I have reached the boundary of how far I can be aroused by you then you push me beyond. How will I survive this continual physical exertion?” He kissed her head and she laughed tremulously.
“Your heart is strong, beloved. I trust you will survive brilliantly. Of course, if you deem it too much for you, I can desist.” She kissed his chest, lifting to gaze at his smiling, joyous face. He twisted a tress of her hair around his fingers, profound love emanating from every pore and beaming through his eyes.
“No, my Lizzy, do not desist. I shall take my chances.” He clasped her face, drawing her to his mouth. “I love you, Elizabeth, forever.”
“I love you, William, beyond forever.” They kissed languidly, tenderly, faithfully. Endlessly kissing and embracing, gentle caresses of devotion continued until sleep overtook them.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Touring Derbyshire
The following three days were passed exclusively in sightseeing. Each day would begin with breakfast at the inn after which they would set out upon a new adventure abroad. Darcy rented a cabriolet, the newest carriage model from France, similar to a barouche but much lighter and swifter with a folding canvas calash hood and rear window. This particular cabriolet was designed to accommodate a separate driver mounted on the back, but Darcy preferred solitude and control, so operated the vehicle himself.
The first day, they headed east toward Nottinghamshire. The country, once beyond Derby town limits, was exclusively devoted to agriculture. The plethora of rivers and streams created a lush land of vegetation, ample water supply, and numerous fisheries. Darcy confessed he had only twice traveled through the region to the east of Derby, once to travel to Nottingham itself on business, whereupon he grasped the opportunity to tour Sherwood Forest. Alas, the forest and numerous Robin Hood museums scattered throughout the area were too far north for them to comfortably reach on this trip.
“Something to anticipate for another excursion, my love,” he placated, kissing her pouting lips.
As they set out, Darcy began his narrative of the vicinity. Both Darcys had discovered to their immense delight that they were lovers of history. Darcy, as a fortunate result of his birth, had the means to quench his thirst for ancient history, architecture, and ruins. He confessed to Lizzy that he often believed that, if he had been the second son, he would likely have become an explorer or archeologist, such was his love of old buildings and stories. It was not an exaggeration when he told her about tramping through old ruins in France to the dismay of Bingley.
Lizzy, sadly, had not been blessed from birth with the resources to travel beyond the confines of Hertfordshire. Instead, she embraced what history was found in her familial environs, frequented the various old houses, churches, and ruins nearby, and immersed herself in every book she could find. She surprised Darcy in possessing a fair knowledge of obscure English history, including Derbyshire. The truth is, she confessed, she had researched the area prior to her trip with the Gardiners and more extensively once they were engaged. This information pleased Darcy tremendously, and now he was fulfilling a dream of sharing such treasures with his wife. Of course, for Darcy it was also another positive entry on the long list indelibly etched on his heart of why Elizabeth Bennet was the only woman in the entire world meant for him.
So, with no fear whatsoever that she would grow bored or annoyed, he launched into his tale. “This entire region was once the Saxon kingdom of Mercia from the fifth to sixth centuries. To this day, buried artifacts and old foundations from that era are unearthed. It was in the seventh century when the Saxons were introduced to Christianity, with a subsequent slow infusion of Biblical teaching and ways supplanting the old. In Spondon, there is an ancient church with both Celtic and Christian markings. In fact, religion was so important to the superstitious common folk that churches sprang up everywhere. Most of the remaining buildings from those times are churches.”
Their first stop only a few miles outside of Derby was, not surprisingly, a church. The focal point of the small village of Chaddesden was the church dedicated to St. Mary the Virgin. The building was certainly not the grandest example of the genre, but many of the stones were ancient beyond dating, the foundations laid in a time so distant as to be forgotten. The main architecture dated from the 1300s and, aside from necessary restorations, was unaltered. Again, Lizzy and Darcy strolled through the hushed interior and then onto the grounds, leisurely admiring and absorbing the peace that infused such places before resuming their journey.
They traveled through the village of Spondon, where another ancient church resided. The current building was rebuilt in 1390 to replace a far older one destroyed by fire. This one named after Saint Werburgh, the seventh century daughter of King Wulfhere of Mercia who became the senior Abbess of Mercia. So famous was she that some seventeen churches were dedicated to her throughout England. The little village sat on a hill offering a beautiful view of the encompassing Trent valley, including Derby itself a mere four miles away. Darcy and Lizzy paused to enjoy the panorama, sipping fruit juice contentedly in the relative silence of the sleepy town before continuing their quest.
They passed through Ockbrook, not pausing to inspect the church there, turning vaguely south until reaching Long Eaton on the northern banks of the River Trent. They halted here for a brief stretch of their legs and light repast on the banks of the river. Reclining on a blanket, watching the ducks paddling and fish leaping, they talked and ate. Although Lizzy seemed completely unaffected by her pregnancy, stamina and bodily functions all within normal limits, Darcy fretted. The book and Dr. Darcy clearly listed muscle strain, backaches, fatigue, and benign uterine contractions as frequently occurring during the latter months of confinement, even to the degree of causing early labor or bleeding. For this reason, as well as the delight of a leisurely pace to better inspect the countryside, Darcy did not want to move too fast or venture a prolonged excursion abroad.
The capstone of the day's expedition was Wollaton Hall near Radford in Nottinghamshire. This sixteenth-century masterpiece was reputed to be one of the most amazing manors in all of England. Darcy had long wanted to view it, but during his previous trips into Nottinghamshire he had taken a northeasterly route, which had precluded a visitation.
“Is Wollaton Hall grander than Pemberley?” Lizzy inquired with a teasing smile.
Darcy glanced at her face with a laugh. “Despite Miss Bingley's assertion that Pemberley is the grandest manor in all of England, and my own prejudice and pride regarding my ancestral home notwithstanding, I cannot in truth proclaim that it is the largest, most ornate, architecturally unique, or historically interesting specimen. Certainly not in all of the extensive kingdom, although I will affirm it the finest in all of Derbyshire. Or perhaps that is merely my arrogance shining through!”
Lizzy lifted her brows in mock shock. “You arrogant? How absurd.”
Darcy elbowed her side with a chuckle, continuing undeterred, “Be that as it may, we are now officially in Nottinghamshire, so I feel no sense of disloyalty if I am awestruck by another house.”