They fell asleep on the rug, limbs twined, with Lizzy engulfed by his larger body. It was the cold creeping over his back that woke Darcy, Lizzy deeply asleep and toasty in his arms. The room lamps were yet burning, casting a glow over her skin that was impossible for him to resist. He studied her, lightly running fingers, and inhaling of her fragrance: a mixture of lavender and sexual gratification and him. Their child slept, the bulge beautifully round and still. At times he missed her flat stomach, especially when making love and overcome with raging passion yet unable to release the concern for her altered shape and flexibility. But those moments were fleeting and rare. The miracle that was the product of their love lying inside of her body was astoundingly moving to his soul and strangely erotic.
“God, my Lizzy, I so love you,” he whispered, bestowing a tiny kiss to her shoulder, additionally surprised at the sensation of her petite hand warmly stroking over his bare thigh. “I am sorry. I did not wish to wake you, but it is cold. We need to move to the bed.”
She turned in his arms, sleepy eyes meeting his. “Yes. Our bed, my lover. Kiss me, William.” There was no denying the yearning. All through the night they reached for each other, caressing on the edge of sleep, loving with every inch of flesh and every muscle. The last was as the sun crested the treetops, glow spreading across the fields and through the gaps in the curtain covered wide windows.
Darcy moved within his precious wife, fingers rousing and mouth stirring shivers along her spine. Every curve of her exciting, her heat and softness electrifying, moist depths surrounding and squeezing him thrilling, and articulations of delight enlivening. Wave upon wave of glorious rapture swept through, hearts and spirits soaring as their bodies succumbed to the elation of pure pleasure with shouts of loving joy.
Lizzy was soundly asleep seconds afterwards, a blissful smile on her gorgeous face. Darcy experienced a rush of fierce love and breathless peace. Leaving her was painful, but he knew all would be well as she promised. How could it not be with their souls intermingled? He kissed her several times, the drowsy smile widening, before carefully untangling his body from hers to prepare for departure.
The carriage ride to London was long, tiring, and uneventful. One thing it was not was boring. Richard ingratiated himself to accompany his cousin as he planned to leave in two days anyway. Darcy did not mind in the slightest, adoring Richard and knowing that his cousin's ofttimes irritating boisterousness would lighten the mood, provide entertainment, and stave off the gloominess sure to come. In this assumption Darcy was spot on.
The first hour or so was passed in silence. Richard surreptitiously observed Darcy's dreamy face, noted how he fiddled and caressed the ring on his finger, and heard the unconscious faint sighs. In honest curiosity he finally broke the quiet.
“What is it like, Darcy, to love as you do?” The impromptu question pierced the calm, Darcy's brows shooting up as he glanced to his cousin, and Richard coloring as he realized his private musings were vocalized.
There followed an awkward pause, Richard flushed and Darcy amused. “Why do you ask?”
“Forgive me, my friend, I meant no offense. It was impertinent of me to ask such a thing, so let us just forget the question.”
“I am not offended and have every intention of answering your query, cousin. I am merely curious why you ask it. Do you have a particular lady in mind? Or are you seeking enlightenment for the furthering of your education in human interpersonal relationships?” Darcy was grinning broadly.
Richard grunted. “More the latter, I suppose, although you know I am not as ragingly consumptive of all matters educational as you are.”
“Well that surely is the truth! How you managed to graduate University yet remains a mystery to me.”
“Ha, ha.” Richard intoned dryly. “Most amusing today, Mr. Darcy.”
“Watching your discomfiture always increases my humor. You have yet to adequately answer. Why do you ask about love?”
Richard shrugged, gazing out the window. “Primarily idle curiosity. You have been so different since Elizabeth entered your life. I noted a change in your demeanor as far back as Rosings last, although I did not comprehend the cause. The oddity is that I thought you perfectly content before, yet now I observe the two of you together, and even how you fondle your new ring, and the happiness is transparent. Nauseatingly so.” He grinned and shrugged again. “So I was curious what it felt like.”
Darcy was gazing into his lap with a soft smile upon his mouth, selfconsciously removing fingertips from the gold band. He did not answer hastily, finally speaking lowly, “I do not know if I can sufficiently place it into words. Perhaps that is why the poets wax eloquent with platitudes and analogies as mere common phrases do not suffice. All I know for certain is that almost from the moment I saw her she has filled my senses and my heart. There is joy with Elizabeth in every way and every moment, whether present or no. I feel light and buoyant, yet also grounded and secure. Giddy and frivolous, yet strong and steady. Childish and masculine simultaneously.” He chuckled softly, closing his eyes and leaning back against the carriage wall. “Yet you know what the most miraculous part is, Richard? Greater than how she makes me feel is the miracle that she loves me.”
He opened his eyes abruptly, staring at his cousin with full Darcy intensity. “Richard, there is no replacement for that. It is a priceless treasure, and I only wish all in the world could experience it.”
“And this 'feeling' is worth the misery I note at times such as this, when you are separated?”
Darcy shook his head. “It is not misery in the way you imagine. Yes, I miss her terribly already and my loneliness will be profound, but our love sustains me and I have the constant joy of knowing she waits for me.”
They were solitary with their thoughts for a spell, Darcy resuming the heedless caressing of his ring while Richard dwelled inwardly. Slowly Darcy began to chuckle. “Tell me, cousin, does any of this questioning have to do with Admiral Ulster's daughter?”
Richard's laugh was rich, an uncharacteristic ruddiness spreading over his cheeks. He glanced away, eyes downcast. “I admit nothing, especially to you who would tease me mercilessly. All I shall say is that the concept is not as repugnant as it once was, although God help me if I am ever as gushy and nonsensical as you, or completely lose sight of all propriety. Is that sufficient for now, Mr. Romance?”
Darcy laughed loudly. “It is a start!”
Once in Town, Darcy wasted no time in beginning the arduous process of concluding his business affairs. With the Darcy House staff under strict orders to remain mum regarding his residency, he entered the offices of Mr. Daniels bright and early the day after his arrival. For two days all went according to plan, Darcy quite pleased with the progress made. It was while sitting in the library the second evening after finishing a long devotion-imbued letter to his wife, brandy in hand and papers spread before him, that he began coughing. It was only a light tickle felt in the back of his throat, but it persisted no matter how often he attempted to drink or cough the itch away. More irritated than anything, he finally gave up working and went to bed.
Thus far the days and nights had passed rapidly with well-controlled sadness. He missed Elizabeth with an ache that was unrelenting, but the constant activity kept the pain at bay. Tonight he sat in the bed that was for many years comfortable and familiar as only for him, but was now glaringly empty and cold. He tried to read, but the prickle in his throat distracted, and he constantly glanced up toward her dressing room, positive he saw a shadow. Finally he gave in, dousing the lights and lying down in hopes that sleep would claim him quickly so he could dream of her.