Dr. Penaflor and Uncle George planned to stay in London for an additional week or so before traveling to Pemberley in time for the Summer Festival. How long they intended to stay in England was a mystery. George was taking his “vacation” quite seriously, refusing to discuss timetables or pinpoint agendas with any degree of accuracy. Darcy smiled and chuckled lowly. In truth, he was delighted with his uncle and Raul Penaflor, both men welcome to stay forever if they wished it. The combined persuasion of every member of the family, aided by the insistence of Anne herself, had finally worn on Lady Catherine and she had allowed both doctors to examine Anne. The collaborating diagnosis was chronic anemia, to the near apoplectic rage of Anne's aged physician, who had screamingly abused both men with accusations ranging from quackery to witchcraft and more. Surprisingly, it was Anne herself who commanded a servant to physically remove the man, with Lady Catherine frozen in shock and at a rare loss for words. The remedies prescribed were primarily dietary in nature, with a regimen of herbal extract teas and a special tonic. How she would respond to the treatment remained to be seen, but Darcy was hopeful. He and Elizabeth formally invited Anne to Pemberley for the Festival, but definitive plans were yet to be made. Lord and Lady Matlock had taken the entire, “Anne Situation”—as they jokingly referred to it—under their jurisdiction.
Darcy began to sense the early tendrils of sleep retaking him, his wife's warm body and steady breathing lulling him into an extreme place of contentment and relaxation. However, just as his mind clouded, a sudden, prolonged prod into the flesh of his hip jolted him into full wakefulness. His eyes flew open as paralysis consumed him so utterly that he ceased breathing and his heart abstained from pumping. The insistent poking continued with amazing strength, considering how small the extremity utilized. His son, as they had unconsciously began referring to the baby, apparently was displeased with being squeezed. Darcy realized he was grinning rather foolishly, and now his heart was palpitating. He slid his left hand carefully along Elizabeth's abdomen, until between his hip and the bulge, and pressed lightly. Evidently, his son was engaged in a bout of extended exercise, as he proceeded to punch, poke, and roll about inside his warm cocoon, all felt by a teary-eyed father.
It was some minutes of incredible soul-shattering joy before Darcy became aware that Elizabeth had woken and was staring into his face, smile brilliant and eyes watery. They simply stared for the longest time, no words necessary, not that Darcy would have been able to speak.
Finally, the baby tired and his movements ceased. The Darcys gazed with love and some other emotion too intense to name. Darcy left the swell of her belly, encircling her, hip to buttocks, as he inclined to her lips. “Elizabeth,” he whispered, kissing slowly with indescribable tenderness, wet cheeks brushing over hers with tears mingling. Wordlessly, he traveled over her face, tasting their salty tears as he lingered over each precious feature, returning to her mouth only after adoring her face thoroughly. Still gently, he probingly penetrated her mouth, absorbing her essence as he gave of his own.
Eventually—no haste involved—he withdrew and met her eyes. Fingers feathered over her face as they studied each other, passion evident yet primarily veneration and happiness. “I love you, Elizabeth Darcy, with all my being,” he said, his voice a husky whisper. “I cannot express how precious you are to me. The mother of our children. The wonder of the miracle inside of you moves me so profoundly.” He kissed softly. “I never imagined…” his voice caught and he swallowed before resuming, “how blessed I am to have found you, my Elizabeth.”
He kissed deeply then, rolling her slowly to her back while lightly caressing over her warm skin. With a beaming smile he left her mouth, traveling leisurely down her neck with moist kisses and nibbles. Lizzy yawned and stretched deliciously under his strong body, twining her fingers through his thick hair as he attended to her bosom with gentle caresses and kisses. Weaving idly down her torso, he eventually nestled between her legs with mouth pressing delicate pecks over her belly.
Lying flat, the small mound of their child nearly disappeared, with only a palm-sized hardness palpable below her navel. Darcy murmured nonsense over this evidence of their love, tickling Lizzy's skin so that she giggled and squirmed.
“What are you saying to him, love?”
“I am informing him that he has been gifted to the very best mother in the entire world. Also, I am reintroducing myself and thanking him for finally allowing me to feel him. If need be, I shall squeeze him several times a day. He can kick me whenever the whim takes him!” He glanced up into her mirth-filled face. “He is strong, beloved, as I knew he would be. No wonder you have been able to feel him for so long.” He kissed her belly, then laid his cheek on top.
“How strange to love someone so small and yet unseen. You carry him, my heart, thus your love is undoubtedly stronger yet. It is such an amazing experience!” He began to turn his head but a sharp stab halted him.
As if in response to Darcy's voice and expressed devotion, the baby commenced a series of lazy pushes into his father's cheek. Darcy gasped, reaching quickly for Lizzy's hand to lie next to his cheek. Together they waited in silence as the tiny life exerted his individuality and vitality. In all the years and pregnancies that would follow—each of which were a miracle and cause for intense celebration, with Darcy and Lizzy never tiring of the simple wonder to be found in these internal movements—this first experience would eternally hold a special place in their hearts. Darcy wept silently without shame, so overcome that it was several minutes before he could think clearly. Lizzy rose slightly, grasping him in her arms and pulling upward until nestled snuggly in her embrace.
Tenderly and slowly they made love, passion cresting at a leisurely pace, yet intense and fulfilling as always. Afterwards, tingling and satiated, Darcy's body draped partially over Lizzy's while they dreamily caressed each other, they kissed softly and drowsily. “I love you, William,” Lizzy whispered as sleep claimed her, Darcy mumbling the same as he too drifted into a blissful slumber.
“I see it! Pemberley at last. Look, William!” Lizzy was bouncing on the seat as a child in her enthusiasm, Darcy laughing as he stroked her back.
“Yes, dearest love, I see it. Finally we are home.”
The carriage proceeded slowly up the lengthy drive leading to the Manor, tall trees shading the gravel avenue and interspersed so as to offer glimpses of the River Derwent to the left. Lizzy had been literally on the edge of her seat for the past hour as familiar Derbyshire then Pemberley terrain came into view. The trip of two days had passed uneventfully. The Darcys led the small caravan in their carriage, followed by Georgiana, Kitty, and Mrs. Annesley in a second, the Bingleys and Caroline in the third, and last the servants. The massive quantity of luggage, far more than when they left Pemberley two months ago, was distributed between all four conveyances.
Lizzy sighed and turned to her husband with a bright smile. “You understand that I do adore Darcy House, but nothing can compare to Pemberley.” She leaned into his chest, playing with the knots of his cravat and smiling sweetly. Brushing against parted lips, she whispered, “Tonight, my beloved husband, we shall stand on our balcony gazing at the stars over the valley. Then we shall make love in our bed in our chamber in our home and it will be fantastic, amazing, and beautiful. The perfect homecoming.”
Darcy spoke hoarsely, “My love, you should cease or we will not be waiting until tonight, I can assure you!”
“Tsk tsk. What an impatient man you are, Mr. Darcy! No self control whatsoever.”