In the Arms of Mr. Darcy tds-4 Page 15

  Darcy, however, was shaking his head negative. “I appreciate your concern, dearest, and I do need to sleep. First, though, I want to tell you all. It is important to me.”

  “You are frightening me, William. Are you sure you are well?”

  “Forgive me! I do not mean to imply anything ill with my health. Have I not proven my vigor?” He grinned and Lizzy chuckled despite her unease.

  “You are incorrigible! And you should not jest with my worries. I have sensed from the moment I saw you in the arbor that something serious was amiss, but convinced myself it was merely weariness or thought it related to the fire. Now I am truly alarmed.”

  He pulled her closer and kissed tenderly. “I accept your chastisement, love, and beg your pardon. I have a story to tell, it is true, but I desire to keep it from you completely. I abhor the very idea of causing you pain.”

  “William, sharing your life means sharing everyth—”

  He halted her with another kiss. “Do not say it, Elizabeth. Trust me, I have learned the lesson of hiding anything from you or making an attempt to shield. I cannot say it is easy, as I always endeavor to bring you only joy and contentment, but I promised to be forthright at all times and I will. This is why I want to reveal all, so I can sleep with you in my arms knowing there are no lingering secrets to disturb my blissful dreams.”

  She was staring intently into his eyes, frowning. “Thank you. I could not bear it if there was turmoil in your soul or some actual circumstance transpiring that I was not aware of and given the opportunity to alleviate. I love you, William, far too much to allow you to suffer if there is anything I can do to help.”

  He smiled and nodded, bringing her hands to lie against his chest, and with a sigh, began.

  “Richard and I left Derby the day before yesterday.”

  “Two days ago? During the blizzard?” She blurted, biting her lip instantly. “Sorry.”

  He chuckled faintly. “Yes, it was appallingly foolish. I allowed my impetuosity to rule, as you recently scolded me. We barely made it unfrozen to Belper, finding shelter at the inn. I was in a foul mood, Elizabeth, I admit with shame. I wanted to be home so dreadfully, missed you and Alexander, and wholly ignored my normal wisdom and temperance.”

  He closed his eyes and, in a muted tone, told her the entire tale, leaving only the most gruesome details out. Lizzy gasped a time or two but remained silent until he reached the part where he almost left against the Sheriff’s command.

  “I am ashamed to admit that I nearly slugged Richard. Thankfully, he spoke sensible words that penetrated my thick skull, or I probably would have acted rashly and still be clapped in irons as he predicted.”

  Surprisingly, Lizzy was giggling, her smothered chuckling breaking Darcy from his narrative. “You find this amusing, Mrs. Darcy?” He cocked an eyebrow.

  “I suddenly had a mental picture of you and Richard grappling about on the floor, pummeling each other as unruly boys.”

  She continued to giggle, Darcy chuckling as well. “Nearly, but I finally called upon the restraint and forbearance generally a chief character trait. I saw reason, or more aptly accepted the futility of my situation.”

  “So, did they catch the villain? He is not still running loose, is he?” Her voice unconsciously raised an octave, eyes wide with fright.

  Darcy draped her with one arm and a leg, drawing her closer and kissing her forehead before tucking under his chin. “We caught him. A young man just eighteen on a pleasure tour with his brother. Fancied himself in love with Miss Hazeldon and thought she returned his affection, and…”

  He fell silent, trembles and pounding heart felt by Lizzy. He did not speak for several minutes, and when he did, his voice was agonized. “I thought of Georgiana, Elizabeth. I have never seen anything quite this horrible, but I know what unscrupulous men are capable of, what they believe is their right, what is somehow owed them as the natural conclusion to a flirtation and roused desire. How some regard women as property and worthy of only what pleasure can be taken from them, forcefully or willingly it matters naught. Wickham was such a person, as I knew so well. When I arrived at Ramsgate, unexpectedly discovering his plot, my greatest fear was that he had violated Georgie. I knew it to be a real possibility. Praise God, I was in time, as I am absolutely convinced he would have taken her virtue either to secure her or wound me without the slightest consideration to her fragility or sensibilities. Yet never did it occur to me that she could have died. Some say rape is a fate worse then death. As a man I cannot judge whether this is true or not, but I believe I am sensitive enough to fathom the horror of it. However, nothing could be worse then what happened in Belper,” he finished in a bare whisper.

  “You were correct to scold me for being foolhardy,” he continued, “for forgetting my responsibilities to you and my family. I will not forget it again. My place is here, protecting you and our son, and all the others dependent on me. I cannot allow myself to brainlessly or selfishly bring harm to my person because I must be diligent in my duties! I will not fail you, Elizabeth.”

  “I know—”

  “I promise to safeguard you, my wife, and you must promise to be wise, wary, sensible, and aware. Elizabeth, I cannot survive without you. I know this to be true as a mere five days drives me insane!”

  Darcy trailed his fingers and lips airily over her face. Exhaustion washed over him in waves as the final vestiges of the tragedies were illuminated and scattered. He ached deep into his bones with sleep clawing at the edges of his consciousness, yet he could not halt hands and mouth which urgently required the final cathartic sensation of touching his wife’s vibrant flesh.

  Lizzy, by the same token, experienced a similar abrupt weariness of heart and body. Her husband’s troubles had shaken her, and she felt his sorrow. Yet, with each unifying act of lovemaking, with each cleansing conversation, and with each current kiss and caress, she knew he was healed. Although weary, her heart nonetheless leapt for joy in the knowledge that their unique bond had worked another miracle.

  Considering the expended energy and emotions of the evening thus far, it was a marvel that either would respond sensually. Then again, never could Darcy touch his wife without desiring to arouse her. He was well down the luscious curves of her body before fully comprehending her rising ardor, the lush swell of her breasts his personal undoing.

  “I love you immeasurably, Elizabeth,” he whispered between tender licks and kisses, fingering through the tousled curls cascading wildly over their pillows. “Always and for all eternity you are mine. Only mine.”

  Darcy was quite certain he could fall asleep in seconds and not budge for hours, but the titillation of his wife was irresistible. While his increasingly foggy brain fought succumbing to the oblivion of sleep, his potent manliness responded to her enchantment and touch.

  Lizzy took charge. Rolling him onto his back, she rapidly straddled his hips. Darcy groaned weakly, hands slack on her thighs, misty eyes shining with profound contentment at the electrifying feel of her surrounding him and the captivating vision of her feminine figure with luxuriant tresses tumbling rising above him.

  “I love you eternally, Fitzwilliam. Only for you, my life and breath. Always and forever, you are mine.”

  It did not take long. A few minutes of tender motions and he yielded to the comforting surge of pleasure procured only with her. His satiated, stuporous brain was only vaguely aware of her moving away afterwards to add a log to the fire. He opened his eyes briefly, ponderously scooting closer to Alexander and laying one broad hand onto the baby’s back before falling into a daze. A brief rush of air over his back was quickly supplanted by the radiant warmth of Elizabeth nuzzling between his shoulder blades. Her arm snaked over his waist and her breath soothingly wafted across the nape of his neck.

  “Good night, my darling. Sleep well.” A tender kiss planted at the top of his spine was his last memory. His final thought was a reciprocated wish for refreshing sleep, but the sentiment would remain unspoken as con
suming, blissful, therapeutic, and revitalizing sleep overwhelmed.

  Chapter Seven

  Thanksgiving for the Gift of a Child

  Alexander had not received any Christmas gifts per se. All the gifts addressed to the young master which began arriving some three weeks after his birth were set aside to be opened nearer to his christening. Lizzy was stunned by the barrage of packages delivered by Royal Mail or servants or the hands of the gifter. Once again she was struck by the prestige and eminence of her husband as Master of Pemberley; the full scope of what that title portended was signified by the wealth of accolades and blessings pouring in.

  The red velvet drape once encumbered with wrapped holiday presents was now equally laden with gilded and sparkling packages of all sizes from all over England. A number had arrived with the Bennets from the relatives and friends of Lizzy. A package containing three wrapped gifts was sent from Darcy’s family in Devon. There were parcels from Lady Catherine, Anne and Raul, and the Collinses, all delivered together while Darcy was away. They had received an abundance of written congratulations with a smattering of small gifts from friends and associates in London and elsewhere. No word yet from Austria, but the birth announcement had likely barely been conveyed. Other more modestly wrapped presents mysteriously appeared at all hours of the day and were clearly from the staff. The biggest surprise was a complete layette of quality Irish linen dyed a brilliant sky blue from Darcy’s Uncle Phillip and his family.

  Opening the surfeit of gifts became part of the evening’s entertainment for the three nights following Darcy’s return from Derby. The bulk of offerings consisted of knitted blankets and quilts; cotton, wool, and linen baby dresses in every color of the rainbow with matching bonnets; an adorable collection of toddler boy outfits with small trousers, ruffled shirts, and tiny jackets; several rattles and teething rings; a profusion of bibs in all sizes; and a dozen satin pillows.

  “I will need to change his clothing three times a day for the next six months to wear all these dresses,” Lizzy exclaimed. She held up a lovely gown of faded pink with white ribbons crisscrossed down the front and along the hemline, a gift from Jonathan and Priscilla Fitzwilliam.

  “I am surprised you are not weeping at all the time wasted sewing gowns yourself, considering how you detest such activity.” It was Jane, teasing from where she sat beside her sister, refolding and repacking the individual presents to be put away later.

  Darcy hid a smile in the rim of his teacup. He stood across the room, ostensibly watching the unwrapping, although in truth the procedure was becoming a bit boring. Not that he would confess this to his wife or any of the other women in the room, who seemed to be inexhaustible in their enchantment over each item, many of which looked identical as far as he was concerned. All the other men had pretended attentiveness for thirty minutes maximum before meandering to far corners. Darcy maintained his vigil from a purposefully selected locale near enough to partake in the festivities when necessary, but also converse covertly with Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam. For two nights he had diligently observed the unmasking with a mixture of the extreme pleasure experienced with anything regarding his son and an ennui that he vaguely felt guilty about, but could not control. Tonight, thankfully, they had finally worked methodically through the gifts from business associates, friends, staff, and distant relatives to the ones presented by close family and friends.

  “I cannot argue with the truth of that statement, Jane.” Lizzy responded to her jest while looking to her husband’s glittering eyes with a faint shake of her head. Darcy merely raised one brow.

  “Mrs. Darcy, this is from me. You saw the beginning pattern and have been gifted an array of quilts, but I do hope you will like it.”

  “Thank you, Miss Bingley! I am sure we will love it. And have no fear, as cold as it is here in Derbyshire, I am sure we will have great need of blankets and quilts aplenty. Jane has already informed me of the beauty of your creation, and I see she was not exaggerating. Look William! Oh, Miss Bingley, it is truly incredible.”

  Darcy drew near in honest awe. The quilt in question was magnificent: a collage of poplin pieces in varying degrees of brightness exceptionally woven into a Crown of Thorns pattern. The entire quilt was a bit larger than a true infant-sized blanket, which was a bonus.

  “Caroline, this is a marvel!” Darcy exclaimed, losing his usual formality in surprise. “How wise of you to create it larger, as it will fit well over his toddler bed. The colors are remarkable! Thank you, Caroline. We will treasure it always.”

  Caroline was beaming, all the typical arrogance erased in the light of the Darcys’ praise. For one of the first times in all his years of acquaintance with her, it suddenly struck him how truly beautiful she was when her features were allowed to relax and light with an honest smile. Abruptly, the epiphany bolted through him that this is what his wife and friends saw in his countenance now as compared to the severe façade presented for most of his life. With a surge of emotion bordering on affection, he grasped one of Caroline’s hands and brought the fingers to his lips for a thankful kiss.

  “Thank you, Caroline, from the bottom of my heart.” He spoke softly, the words reaching only the immediate bystanders. “Elizabeth and I will cherish this gift created from your heart. Our greatest wish is that someday we may be honored to return the gesture when you are blessed with the exalted joy of motherhood.”

  Caroline’s mouth had fallen open, eyes misty as she gazed into Darcy’s shining visage, swallowing the lump formed with difficulty before murmuring, “You are welcome, Mr. Darcy.”

  Kitty stepped into the slightly awkward tableau, handing her gift to Lizzy. “It is no big thing,” she stated apologetically, “but I did do all the work myself!”

  Lizzy laughed. Of all the Bennet sisters, Jane and Mary were the only two who excelled and actually enjoyed working with needles in all the various methods. Lydia hated it the most, probably never finishing a project in all her life, but Kitty came second. Lizzy delighted in embroidery, as long as it was not too complicated a pattern, and found a relaxation in knitting, but that was it. Crocheting was out of the question and sewing she abhorred. Lizzy had noticed a calming of Kitty since Lydia’s departure and, upon rare occasion, observed her head bent over a hoop. If she had created a gift of any sort with her own hands, it would be a prize to be sure, no matter the caliber of craftsmanship.

  As anticipated, the gown sewn and detailed by Kitty was not a masterpiece. But its beauty was in the simplicity of design, especially as compared to many of the fancy infant dresses thus far given. Constructed of plain white cotton with eyelet lace along the collar and sleeve edges, the gown itself was pure in its minimalism. Clearly, Kitty had devoted her skill and time to the embroidered border of the skirt. In painstakingly perfect stitches and every color imaginable, she had fabricated a flowing pattern of inch-high stick figure children at play: skipping rope, swinging, bouncing a ball, running, jumping, rolling a hoop, swatting a shuttlecock, tumbling, and blowing soap bubbles. It was playful, colorful, and utterly delightful.

  “Oh, Kitty! I love it! The pattern is wonderful! I can imagine Alexander doing all these fun pastimes. Thank you so much!” Darcy thanked a blushing Kitty with a regal bow and courtly kiss to the fingers.

  Hugs and kisses became rampant and enthusiastic as the family gifts were gradually unveiled. The men began to drift closer to the fray with sincere smiles of delight. The presents varied widely and reflected the personalities of the individuals involved. Silver implements abounded per tradition, with Alexander provided a wealth of eating utensils, porridge bowls, and cups. The Gardiners, Bennets, and Lady Catherine, as the eldest family members, especially adhered to the tradition of silver, each implement beautifully carved and shiny. Lord and Lady Matlock gifted a gorgeous silver and lapis lazuli inlaid brush and comb.

  Anne and Raul sent the complete series of S. & J. Fuller paper doll books. These were instantly popular among the guests, and the precious books were passed from han
d to hand with each adult reverting to childhood as the dolls were dressed and the story verses read aloud. Darcy finally confiscated the expensive books before “they are smudged and creased beyond Alexander being able to read them.”

  Samuel and Marguerite kept to the theme of literature with both volumes of Ann and Jane Taylor’s Poems for Infant Minds, Rhymes for the Nursery, and Hymns for Infant Minds, signed to Alexander Darcy by the loyal personal servants. Not surprisingly, Mary and Mr. Daniels gifted a small white-dyed leather Bible and accompanied publication of inspirational quotations from spiritual writers.

  Numerous gifts came from the servants, most of a simple nature such as the crocheted blanket with embroidered clusters of Sweet William from Phillips and his wife, but two stood out from the rest. Mr. Clark and the entire grounds-keeping staff presented Lizzy and Darcy formally with a three-year-old oak sapling, carefully cultivated in the orangery from an acorn harvested off the enormous oak marking the eastern boundary of the private garden.

  Standing with grubby hat in hand, his staff crowded behind, Mr. Clark had nervously delivered his speech to the touched Darcys that afternoon in the Conservatory. “Reckoning how much you enjoy gardening, Mrs. Darcy, and as Pemberley for generations now has gained renown for her landscaping, we”—he swept the hat toward the shuffling gardeners—“figured a tree to mark the young Master’s birth was appropriate. It will grow with him, strong and enduring, so it had to be an oak. There is a perfect plot in the garden for it, with a few re-plantings come spring, but of course you can decide to plant it wherever you wish it to be.” The Darcys assured him that the private garden would be preferred, trusting to his expertise. Lizzy was so choked up she could barely speak, Darcy maintaining his equilibrium adequately enough to thank the groundskeeper and his excellent staff with the essential pomp and formality.