Lizzy began to tremble hysterically but before she could relax into the sturdy grip of her husband, he pushed her away, grasped her upper arms roughly, and shook her until her teeth rattled. “Do not
Lizzy’s mouth fell open in shock and her mind could not comprehend the whirling emotions as his mouth descended onto hers in a bruising kiss. The kiss was brutal and thorough, albeit short, and then she was enfolded in his arms and pressed tenaciously into his hard chest.
The sound of a horse’s hooves barely registered as her sobs and gasps mingled with the wheezes resonating through his shirt. “Is all well, Mr. Darcy?” Mr. Thurber inquired. Darcy nodded and waved a hand, unable to speak, and the wrangler retreated.
“You…” she sobbed, “you… did this… on purpose?”
His intonation was weary when he finally spoke. “I needed to show you how dangerous it can be, Elizabeth. I am sorry.” His voice caught and he swallowed. “But you were not taking this seriously enough.” He gently fingered her chin and lifted her face to his, raptly examining her eyes. He was emotionally spent and it showed in his gaze. Lizzy nearly collapsed as a torrent of shame rushed through her. She wanted to hide and cry some more and beg forgiveness and then kiss him, but he suddenly released her and she swayed.
“Climb back in, Mrs. Darcy,” he demanded curtly in a tremulous rasp. “Take it back to the stable.” He remounted Parsifal and looked at her with glazed eyes and a wan smile as she gaped at him. “Like falling off a horse, my love, you must get back on immediately. Hurry up, but be careful. I shall be waiting for you in our chambers. I need to kiss you and hold you for several hours to overcome the fright you have given me.” With a last weak smile and a blown kiss, he heeled Parsifal and took off across the meadow in a blinding flash.
For the first time in her marriage, Elizabeth was afraid to approach her husband. Certainly not because she thought for one second he would harm her, but due to her acute shame and fear of seeing disappointment on his face. Therefore, she did not hurry as he asked, but dawdled in the stables, sluggishly climbed the staircases, and entered their bedroom subdued and stealthily. He stood with an elbow propped on the mantle and staring into the fire and twiddling an empty glass in one hand, the other in a fist over his mouth. His torso was bare although, oddly, he still wore his breeches and boots. She observed him silently, detecting no overt tension or anger but rather weariness. She could not see his face until he suddenly sensed her presence and turned.
All she saw was love. He glowed as he did immediately after they made love, the expression in his shining eyes one that she recognized as pure joy and adoration. He placed the glass on the mantle and, without a word, held his arms open. In a flash and with a sob she was there, holding him as he held her, with tenderness and belonging. He sat onto the sofa, cradling her on his lap and soothingly caressing her back and shoulders as he unpinned her already partially loose hair. Neither spoke, Lizzy trembling with unshed tears as he purred placatingly.
Twining fingers through her hair, he tasted her lips, feathering and delicate. With immeasurable patience he began unbuttoning her gown, baring her to his airy touch. He had never undressed her so slowly. It was unfathomably erotic yet tranquilizing at the same time. She relaxed into his body, hands lax as he stirred her senses. For endless minutes he focused on her bared breasts, arousing her gradually with fingers and then mouth.
He clasped her body to his and with balletic grace fell to the bearskin rug. He stretched beside her, examining her face as he resumed the caresses to her chest. Elizabeth never felt as beautiful as she did when William stared at her. His eyes pierced her soul, love and transcendent admiration naked. Words were unnecessary and they uttered none. Passion coursed through her as a torrential wave, every touch rocking her with heat, yet she was mesmerized by his eyes, his face in total so enchanting.
Raptly watching her, he ran his hand down her abdomen and hips, divesting her of the dress completely. With his eyes never leaving her face, even when she closed her eyes in rising euphoria, he allowed his fingers to play over her supple flesh. With nothing but his masterful touch he roused her, lovingly bringing her to utter fulfillment until she cried his name, begging him in desperation to stop before she died.
Immediately, he crushed her shivering body to his. “Oh, my God, William,” she spoke shakily, “I truly think at times I shall perish from the power of what you do to me!”
He kissed her forehead, speaking softly, “I will never let you die, Lizzy, not from pleasure or anything else. Without you I cannot survive.”
She smiled into his crystal eyes. “Nor I without you, best beloved.”
Darcy’s “test” did accomplish the goal of proving to him that Lizzy could handle herself in the little carriage. He accompanied her about for the next two weeks as she ventured further afield until he was comfortable with allowing her to wander off alone.
Nonetheless, on the day in late February when she wheeled off to visit Mrs. Harriet Vernor, a mere five miles away, Darcy was beside himself for the entire four hours she was gone. He paced in his study, found endless excuses to wander into the main parlor so he could peer onto the drive, and finished not a stitch of the work piled on his desk.
When she arrived home, flushed and glowing from satisfaction and a delightful afternoon with her friend, Darcy marched her immediately up to their chambers. In general a man of few words, Darcy had recognized that the preferred method of alleviating his tribulation and expressing his devotion was to simply hold, kiss, and tenderly make love to his wife. Since he did this remarkably well, Elizabeth had no complaints.
Aside from such upsets as curricle lessons, one other ball in late February, and the few sudden minor troubles about the farms, life for the Darcys followed a relatively predictable routine every day. Lizzy and Darcy were both historically early risers, Darcy especially so. His normal pattern prior to matrimony was to wake just after dawn and go for a long ride. This activity was replaced by an exceedingly more pleasant one: waking his wife shortly after dawn, generally in a state of partial arousal, and making love. After that, they would contentedly snuggle and doze before rising for a leisurely breakfast in their sitting room. Perhaps twice a week, as weather permitted, Darcy would leave his deliciously satisfied wife in resumed slumber and take Parsifal for a vigorous race across Pemberley’s vast pastures, returning for breakfast.
Mid-morning was passed in his study attending to various business matters, while Lizzy either sat reading nearby or met with Mrs. Reynolds while Georgiana was with her tutor. Darcy, to his pleased surprise, preferred to have Lizzy sit with him and discuss the business at hand. Initially it had not occurred to him to share the minute details of the estate management with her, not because he doubted her intelligence, but simply because he had never talked to anyone about his affairs, except Mr. Keith, of course.
Her gentle probing questions and enthusiastic interest had encouraged him to answer her inquiries with increasing clarity and depth. Darcy knew his wife was bright but was astonished at how adroitly her mind grasped certain things. Darcy was a linear thinker, eminently logical and rational, unemotional regarding business, cunning in his problem-solving abilities, meticulous and thorough. Lizzy rationalized in a circular manner, embraced her emotions in her reasoning, was astoundingly adept at comprehending complex issues in mere minutes while simpler tasks often escaped her understanding, and had an earthy and ingenious approach to resolution. It was a combination of acumen that perfectly complemented, assisting Darcy in a way he never would have imagined.
One such incident occurred in early March. Mr. Keith approached Darcy one morning at his desk as Lizzy sat sewing in her chair.
“Mr. Darcy, a difficulty has arisen between Roy Alton and Howard Hayes once again. This time it is over the rights to the well.”
Darcy scowled and sighed. “Those two cause me more grief than all the others combined. What about the well?”
“Alton claims that Hayes has not been maintaining the well as he is instructed to do, and the pumps are now malfunctioning. Hayes refutes this, placing the blame, naturally, on Alton whom he states has intentionally sabotaged the pumps in order to slander him. None of it makes sense.”
“Are the pumps completely irreparable?”
“No, but certainly not adequately functional, especially with the weather, to sustain the families’ requirements.”
“Did we not address this same issue three years ago? We set up a schedule of maintenance times and duties…” Darcy trailed off as he rummaged through his files.
