Mr. & Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy: Two Shall Become One

“No, I believe we have covered the list for now.”

“Very well. Luncheon shall be served early, as you requested, and Phillips will be awaiting you in the foyer when you are ready.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds.” With a curtsey, she left. Lizzy remained seated for a while, thinking. Her mind turned to William, wondering where he was at that moment, what he was doing. She shook her head. Do not start down that path! A knock at the door interrupted her reverie. “Enter.”

A maid approached and handed her a letter. “This just arrived, Mrs. Darcy.”

“Thank you. Your name is Hannah, is it not? I am slowly learning.”

“There are many of us, Mrs. Darcy. I still cannot remember the names of all the footmen.” She giggled and then flushed, realizing belatedly that she was being too forward.

Lizzy, however, laughed the tinkling laugh they had all grown accustomed to hearing in the usually quiet house. “Thank you, Hannah. That comforts me.”

The letter was in actuality an invitation addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley from Sir John Cole of Melcourt Hall. There was to be a Twelfth Night Masquerade Ball. Lizzy’s heart fluttered in excitement mixed with no slight amount of trepidation at the news. She had never attended anything so formal in her life, and it would be the first social outing with her husband. She shrugged. Sooner or later she had to meet the families of Derbyshire and afterwards the ton of London. A ball was as fine a place as any to begin!

For the afternoon, Lizzy had decided to drive to Matlock for some shopping. Phillips and another footman named Georges attended her. The town of Matlock was larger than Lambton and a mere ten miles further south. Marguerite, who had resided there for the past eight years, had supplied her mistress with a list of the finest shops the town had to offer.

She spent several lovely hours acquiring gifts for her parents, sisters, Charlotte, Georgiana and, of course, William. The funds that Darcy had allotted her were more than adequate for all she wished to purchase. So much so, in fact, that she could never envision spending them all. She even picked up a few odds and ends for the tenants and the servants, and still had a surplus.

Once she was home, dressing for dinner, her aching heart conquered her. Darcy had not yet returned and the loneliness of the long day without his smiles, kisses, tender touch, and lush, masculine voice caught up to her. She wore a new gown, fashionable and of a highly daring style. She chose the sapphires and Marguerite dressed her hair strikingly, permitting several curls to fall over one shoulder.

The sun was setting, casting the gardens into deeper gloom, before Lizzy heard her husband’s unmistakable resonant baritone and firm tread in the hall. Her heart skipped a beat and every ounce of willpower was called forth to forestall her rushing from the room and into his arms. Instead, she sedately strolled out of the parlor where she was lurking to see him hand his coat to a footman and speak with Mr. Keith. He was dusty and windblown with a dark shadow of beard. She smiled brightly, content merely to gaze at him until he finally noticed her in his peripheral vision.

He halted mid-sentence and broke into a beaming grin as his eyes roved over her entire form. The footman disappeared, as they always seemed capable of doing, and Mr. Keith murmured something about discussing these matters on the morrow as he quit the area. Darcy was unaware of it all, paralyzed by the heavenly vision of his wife.

“Mr. Darcy, welcome home.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Darcy, I am happy to be home.” He kissed the hand she offered, slowly and with a decidedly improper caress. He took a step closer to her, peering intently into her eyes. “Elizabeth,” he whispered, “I have missed you and could easily, without the slightest thought to propriety, ravish you this very second.”

Lizzy laughed and tossed her head saucily. “Well then, Mr. Darcy, it is fortunate that I have been far too busy to miss you at all, so my emotions are in check!”

“Not even the tiniest bit, my love?” He teased the tip of his tongue over one palm.

“Perhaps a time or two, husband. So many duties the Mistress of Pemberley must attend to, you see.” Her eyes twinkled but her voice was more than a little shaky.

He smiled and again raked his eyes seductively over her body. “You were not thinking of me when you selected this specific gown, my dearest wife?”

“Do you like it? It is new!” she asked, suddenly sounding more like a giggly teenager as she posed and twirled around, dropping a flirtatious curtsey.

Darcy laughed gaily. “I like it enormously, Mrs. Darcy. I especially admire that there are only these three buttons and one sash keeping it on your body.”

“Shocking, Mr. Darcy! I pray Samuel has drawn a cool bath for you as your temperature appears to be elevated. Shall I accompany you to your dressing room, husband?”

“I am considering the vast number of empty chambers between here and my dressing room, so it would undoubtedly be prudent for you to wait for me in the parlor.” His kiss brushed her cheek briefly but nonetheless sent a thrill through Lizzy’s veins. “I shall not be long, my love.”

Lizzy watched him until he climbed the distant stairs, a naughty gleam that he did not detect sparkling in her fine eyes.

Darcy had finished washing and shaving, a damp towel draped about his shoulders. Samuel was inside the closet retrieving the garments Mr. Darcy had indicated he wished to wear, while Darcy pulled on his trousers.

“Enchanting view, Mr. Darcy. Quite rejuvenating!”

Darcy spun about, his expression of laughable fright and shock rapidly replaced with an expansive smirk. Lizzy had quietly opened the well-oiled door and was only a couple of feet behind her husband, leaning audaciously against the wall. Before either of them could utter a word, poor Samuel exited the closet and, upon spying Elizabeth, he yelped, dropped the clothes onto the floor, blanched, and then blushed scarlet.

Lizzy averted her face, biting her lip to avoid bursting into gales of mirth. Darcy barely glanced at his valet, eyes fixed on his wife. “You may retire, Samuel. Thank you, I no longer require your services.”

Samuel stammered something inaudible and dashed out of the room. Lizzy could contain herself no longer and laughed helplessly. Darcy pinned her to the wall with his arms locked on either side of her waist. “You deserve to be disciplined severely for such behavior, wife. What shall your punishment be?”

“I do not figure that my behavior warrants a reprimand, Mr. Darcy! You started this little game, remember, and I did give you fair warning. If you failed to alert your valet, the fault is entirely yours.” She affected a pout and primly downcast her gaze. “However, if you truly feel that punishment is necessary, I shall be an obedient wife. Your earlier threat of ravishment sounded particularly distasteful. I am sure my lesson would be learned by such chastisement.”

She coyly fluttered her lashes and ran one hand the length of his torso, shoulder to hip. Darcy leaned slowly and enticingly toward her as if to plant a kiss, but then paused mere inches from her upturned lips. “I rather imagine withholding ravishment would be a greater torture, my love. Yes, now that I reflect on the issue, this shall be your penalty.” And with this pronouncement, Darcy withdrew a pace, smiling at his wife’s expression of surprise and thwarted desire.

Darcy’s satisfaction at beating his wife at her own game was short lived, however. When it came to teasing, Darcy might have been learning quickly, but Lizzy was the master. She shrugged her shoulders and studied her fingernails with deep intensity, declaring unconcernedly, “As you wish, husband. I accept my sentence and will now leave you so I may ruminate on my faults and failings. I shall meet you in the dining room properly demure and sober.”

As she concluded her contrived and transparently spurious little speech, she kissed Darcy primly on the cheek yet managed to accidentally brush her breasts against his bare chest and her hand over his nether regions as she turned toward the door.

She had not taken a single step before her wrist was captured in a vise-like grip and she was spun around and again pinned to the wall, this time by her husband’s entire body. Although Lizzy had begun this little game, she was nonetheless taken aback by the lustful response of her husband. Before she could utter one sound, he had claimed her mouth in an ardent kiss, lifted her skirts to her waist, and begun to attack her undergarments with confidence.

Thus far they had always made love lying down in some manner. The positions had varied somewhat, leaving Lizzy constantly amazed at the diverse ways the human body could be manipulated. So naturally she assumed Darcy would take her into the bedchamber or at least fall to the floor here in his dressing room, which frankly is