Lizzy was staring at him with undisguised, wide-eyed shock, truly speechless for several minutes. “Fitzwilliam, surely you are jesting! Merciful heavens, no human on earth could possibly be more attentive than you! I doubt if there is a man alive more involved with his wife's pregnancy and unborn baby.” She ceased her purposeful caresses to clasp his face firmly. “Dearest, erase those thoughts. They are not reality but merely your anguish clouding your judgment. I am in all ways satisfied and treasured and content in you. And our son shall be irretrievably spoiled within days of his birth. That is what I fear!”
She pulled his face to hers, seizing his mouth zealously and taking charge, showing him precisely what she wanted. Lizzy grasped him, face flushed and breathing labored with rapidly rising passion, drawing him harshly onto her with legs roughly encircling and body arching with clear intent.
Darcy groaned, fighting against her surprising strength to hold his heavy frame aloft. “Elizabeth, I will crush you!”
“Not today. I need to feel all of you, Fitzwilliam, please!”
It was pointless. He had no ability to resist. With a hoarse growl emanating from his chest, he embraced her tightly, falling onto her as they merged. Oh the bliss! She clutched him as if life depended, every plane of flesh adhered with the highly erotic sensation of belly and breast pressed under his torso. Increasingly over the past weeks the weight of his body was becoming uncomfortable for her, necessitating a departure from their preferred position of lovemaking. Naturally this distressed him not in the least, the joy of their union always blissful and intense in any position. Nonetheless, as they each agreed, nothing quite compared to the feel of her husband's virile figure pressed onto her and his wife's lithe frame wrapped around him.
It is perhaps fortunate that their mutual ardency was rampant as Lizzy had no chance to experience the slightest discomfort. The fiery passion rushing through them was powerful, racing swiftly to a crescendo that rocked head to toe.
Inexplicably, Lizzy burst into tears the minute she was able to catch her breath, Darcy cuddling her close to his heaving chest with trembling arms. He soothed her until she quieted, not needing to ask as his eyes were teary as well.
As with their separation in June, they chose to refrain from speaking of it directly. George took the news with a solemn vow to guard Lizzy with his life and never leave her unattended. He was deadly serious and therefore mildly taken aback when Lizzy grunted and rolled her eyes.
“Lord, have mercy!” she said with mock pleading heavenward. “Not another one! I do not require a trailing hound dog, my dear uncle.”
Darcy smiled. George arched a brow at his niece. “Very well, madam. I will refrain from dogging your heels, but will be in residence, likely the library, if ever you whistle loudly.”
“And you shall come running with tongue lolling and tail wagging?”
“Precisely,” he answered while the other three burst into laughter.
They passed the evening in quiet family communion. Georgiana, George, and Richard were fully cognizant of the anguish shared by Darcy and Lizzy, even if they did not quite understand it. All through the evening as they laughed and listened to Georgiana play, the three single persons were well aware of the frequent touches and glances meted out between the newlyweds in ever increasing allotments. The air surrounding the two where they sat squeezed into the very end of the sofa was electrically charged. Nothing improper occurred, both restrained in their tender caresses, but the clarity of mutual need and despondency was salient.
Lizzy was quieter than usual and Darcy was monosyllabic. Eventually even the energy of George Darcy could not penetrate the gathering gloom, so he rose with exaggerated yawning and stretching, proclaiming fatigue. If anyone thought it odd for exhaustion to suddenly strike them all at eight o'clock, it was not pointed out.
Lizzy refused to shed further tears and managed to retain command of her emotions. In actuality, once they were alone, comfortably dressed in robes and entangled before the fire, their spirits lifted. Both knew without the minutest doubt that they would be miserable beyond description for the next two weeks, yet they both vowed to handle the situation with maturity and strength.
The weather had gradually slid into the chill of autumn. The days were generally fair and the rains had yet to attack, but the winds were mounting and the nights were bitter enough to warrant a fire. The lovers reclined on the hearth rug and piled pillows, snuggled and warm, with passion at bay for the present as they discussed estate affairs.
“Mr. Keith will manage the day-to-day issues that may arise as he always has in my absence.” Darcy spoke softly, but with the familiar undertone of authority notable whenever he addressed Pemberley business. “However, it is different now as you are Mistress. You have exceeded both our expectations, my intelligent love, and therefore, if you feel able, can attend to diverse matters that normally would await my return.”
“Such as?”
He sighed, bestowing a kiss to her forehead before continuing, “Naturally all household issues are already handled by you, and if anything needs to be attained above the usual, you have the authority to procure it. I trust your judgment, Elizabeth, if there are any unforeseen problems amongst the staff or even the tenants. The senior staff knows you speak for me and will not question your decisions.”
She gazed into his eyes, pleasure and uncertainty warring. “Are you sure this vote of confidence is wise, William? I appreciate your faith but would not wish to make any mistakes.”
He smiled and ran his hand through her trailing tresses. “This is exactly why I have no worries. Not only are you intelligent and well versed in Pemberley's necessities, but you are prudent and will not hastily conclude a matter if you deem it beyond your scope.”
She nodded, smiling brightly. “Thank you. I will assure all is organized and properly transacted so when you return you shall have nothing to do but love me! Oh, and celebrate your birthday. Ha! You thought to evade, yes?” Darcy was flushed and squirming, Lizzy tickling his ribs and giggling. “How silly you are, foolish man. Although please do not be expecting thirty gifts as I am not nearly clever enough to conjure so many brilliant ideas. I would exhaust myself at the endeavor!”
Darcy laughed, but her jest brought something to mind and he halted her probing fingertips. “Desist! I cannot breathe! Unfair that you are not ticklish.” He gasped, clasping her hands tightly to his chest. “Seriously, listen to me, love. I order you, yes, I order,” he glared and arched a brow, lips twitching, “that you not overtax. Your rest is essential. Promise me you will take care?”
“If you promise the same. I know you will be pressuring yourself to conclude your business so you can hurry home. I want you with me, Fitzwilliam, but not to the extent that you grow ill. Take your time but make sure you are home before the tenth.”
“I am never ill, dearest, but I accept your chastisement. Let us both promise to behave, and I assure you I will be home well before the tenth. And while we are on the subject, please do not plan an extravaganza for my birthday. I would be perfectly happy to forget it altogether. I simply want to be home and the only present I desire is you, preferably naked on our bed.”
“And tied with a big red bow?” She fluttered her eyelashes and pursed her lips, face offered and accepted handily. They made love by the fire, slowly and tenderly rousing the other. The subtle current of sadness was there, but the love they felt was profound and so intensely intrinsic, overruling the presence of dismay.