“You mean like our cat? That worthless ball of fur who ends up curled by your feet and has never once been kicked aside as you threaten to do on a daily basis?”
Darcy smiled, reaching to slowly sweep a loose curl off her cheek and tuck it behind her ear. “He catches mice, therefore earning his keep. Plus he keeps my feet warm.”
“Your feet are never cold, Mr. Darcy, so I am not buying that for a second. I think a fluffy corgi would worm his way into your heart until you are spoiling him worse than I. Dare you deny it?”
“I shall maintain my silence on the subject.” His fingers brushed over her cheeks and down her neck, his eyes following. “What I shall not deny is how lovely you look with the sun striking your skin and that amused sparkle in your eyes. I am breathless and suddenly thirsty.”
“Shall I pour you some water, sir? Will that alleviate your distress?”
“Not in the least, minx.” He bent his head, planting a delicate kiss to her collarbone, right where the sun’s ray illuminated. He continued to deliver airy kisses and feathery touches of his tongue all along the glowing beam painting her skin, traveling ever closer to her decolletage.
Lizzy was helpless to do anything but to close her eyes, melting into the hard wall and instinctively slipping both hands inside his jacket to hold onto his waist.
“This only serves to make me thirstier,” he growled, stopping before kissing the furthest edge of the beam, conveniently located precisely between her breasts. He straighten, only for a moment, before leaning into her body, pressing and pulling at the same time, and engaging her lips this time for a searing kiss. “Alexander is asleep and the house is quiet,” he continued some minutes later, “so I say we take our appetite upstairs, yes, Mrs. Darcy?”
Lizzy nodded in agreement but chose to bridge the narrow gap between their mouths and crush his hard body closer rather than take a step toward the door. Darcy chose to deepen the kiss, grind his lower body against her softness, and release a long moan of pleasure rather than taking a step toward the door.
The door which opened at that moment to admit Lady Catherine.
Her gasp was lost in the air, the click of the rapidly closed door not registering to the impassioned lovers who soon composed themselves enough to exit the room still ignorant of the interloper. They took their tryst to their chamber to be completed without any interruptions. Lady Catherine took to her bed also, smelling salts on the stand just in case!
Then there was Mr. Collins to irritate Lizzy. Or rather both of them, as Darcy abhorred him. Luckily he rarely had to encounter the obsequious little man other than at dinner upon occasion. Lizzy was not as fortunate, by her choice, since her friendship with Charlotte remained.
Yet, as time passed, her friendship with Charlotte was subtly altering. Perhaps it was a natural progression due to the distance between their current homes with visits rare and brief. But upon serious reflection Lizzy knew it was not that. While her newfound friendships with ladies such as Chloe Drury, Julia Sitwell, and Amelia Lathrop—all who lived a distance from Pemberley—flourished, her relationship with Charlotte Collins diminished. How much of that had to do with Lizzy’s distaste for Mr. Collins and her persistent disbelief that sensible, warm Charlotte could stoop to marry him or the differences in their social status Lizzy could not decide.
She felt embarrassed by the uncomfortable silences that came while they visited. It was odd to realize that they had little in common anymore. She could not share her happiness with Darcy since Charlotte would never possess half that joy in her union. They talked about household management and charity work, but in both cases their experiences and duties were vastly different. Frivolous gossip about people or events was limited, since they knew few of the same people and their perspectives were quite varied now. The safest topic was children, so that is what they shared in largest portion.
The twin Collins girls were plain in appearance, but lively creatures just a few weeks older than Alexander. He thought they were fantastic fun, the three of them running and rolling about the lawn while their mothers sipped tea and talked. At times like this, with the breeze blowing and the women relaxing under a shading tree, the years erased and they were just Lizzy and Charlotte again.
Until Mr. Collins appeared.
“Mrs. Darcy”—he bowed—“I am honored to welcome you to our humble abode. I apologize profusely for not greeting you as is proper for the master of the house, even one as quaint and modest as ours, to do. More so, I daresay, as a great lady such as you condescending to pass through our simple doors is a tremendous courtesy and should not be ignored. Of course, I mean no disrespect to our parsonage, you understand? Lady Catherine, our gracious patroness, has contributed bountifully to enhance our home and we are eternally grateful and in her debt.”
“Have no worries over it, Mr. Collins,” Lizzy interrupted the tide. “Lady Catherine is abundantly aware of her charitable acts and how appreciative her subjects are.”
He bowed again, missing the hidden slur. “That is a relief to hear. Thank you for informing me. And thank you for visiting with my dear Mrs. Collins. She, I know, is as honored as I by your consideration. Most likely her overwhelming gratitude is why she neglected to alert me as to your arrival, an understandable omission, I know, perfectly understandable under the circumstances. Still, if I had been notified I would have hastened from my work, as important as it is to the nourishment of God’s children and the furtherance of His church, to welcome you immediately. As it is I am late, but my happiness and sincerity are surely as intense.”
“Thank you, Mr. Collins. You are the soul of hospitality. As is Charlotte. Indeed we were caught up in our mutual delight and forgot all other considerations. Please forgive me for preventing her carrying out her duties, as I am sure she would have.”
“Indeed! Oh, indeed there is nothing to forgive!” He cast befuddled eyes about the yard, noting the laughing children. “Ah, your son has grown, Mrs. Darcy. What a fine lad he is. Mr. Darcy must be immeasurably proud to have a son who is so handsome and robust.”
“We are indeed proud. You must be as well?” He knit his brows, lifting a brow in question. “About your girls, I mean,” Lizzy explained. “They are lovely girls and healthy.”
“Yes, yes of course. They are wonderful and we are naturally cognizant of God’s grace and beholden to Him for His mercy. However, as remarkable and special as girls are, and we dearly love our Leah and Rachel, Mrs. Collins and I, one cannot deny the desire for a son to uphold the family name and potentially, hopefully, walk in a father’s steps.” He sighed, unconsciously glancing to a flushed Charlotte. “A man naturally wishes for such a gift. Alas, it is not always granted.”
Lizzy felt the tension in the air, the heaviness of it pressing into her chest in a most uncomfortable manner, and Charlotte’s pained expression distressed her. Mr. Collins was always annoying, but Lizzy typically offset her irritation by oblique insults that he never comprehended but that amused her and made his presence tolerable. Not this time, however.
“Charlotte,” Lizzy stood, not giving Mr. Collins another opportunity to pontificate, “how about we take the children for a stroll in the Park? I love the walk through the roses.”
Taking their leave of Collins was not as easy as she hoped, but eventually they were alone. They pushed the prams over the rocky walkway, admiring the flowers in inane phrases that only served to heighten the strange tension. Finally, Lizzy could hold her tongue no longer.
“Charlotte, I have to ask. Are you unable to have more children?”
Her companion was silent for a long while. Lizzy feared studying her face, assuming the grief over an inability to conceive must be great. She knew that Charlotte’s delivery of the girls was tortuous, although Charlotte had never given details. It was not uncommon for injury to occur of a nature that made pregnancy impossible or unwise.
“No,” Charlotte answered in a grave tone. “I am sure I could have more children. I simply do not wish to have more.”
“Oh! I see. That is, I can imagine the birth was difficult so, yes, it would make sense…”
“I do not fear birth or being with child, Lizzy.”
Her voice was so low and raising from the middle of Charlotte’s chest due to her hung head that Lizzy had difficulty hearing the muttered words. But she did hear them and sad comprehension dawned instantly.
“I do not wish to do what is required to conceive.
Lizzy wanted to cry. They salvaged their afternoon’s outing but Lizzy’s heart was heavy. She rushed into
