George Darcy was clairvoyant in his assessment that few days would pass before Darcy was scolding his wife for complaining, vociferously, that she was perfectly fine and ready to enjoy the marvelous spring weather. Darcy stubbornly insisted she walk no further than their terrace and garden. Grudgingly and with some grumbling, Lizzy complied with his overprotective demands since her stomach remained delicate and fatigue struck at odd moments even after all other symptoms resolved. Considering what had transpired it was logical to assign her complaints to that, but neither had forgotten the possibility of a pregnancy even if the topic had not been broached.
On the morning of the fifth day when she lurched up in the bed, inhaling forcefully, with one hand clamped over her mouth and the other searching frantically for the blanket edge, Darcy knew it was time to discuss his feelings on the concept of another baby.
She returned to bed, shaky and pale, sheer force of will preventing disgorgement this time at least.
“Do not smile at me, Mr. Darcy,” she snapped, which only caused his smile to widen. She crawled under the quilt, pointedly lying so that her back was to him, and mumbled grumpily, “I am not in the mood for smiles. Smiles will surely increase my nausea and I may chose to turn your way rather than dash to the chamber pot. Purposefully.”
He caressed one hand down her arm, bending to plant a soft kiss to her shoulder. “I apologize, love. Dare I inquire as to what is irritating you most, being cooped up inside or your nausea? If it is the former I believe I have a solution that may elicit a smile, despite your displeasure for the gesture.”
“What solution?”
“Oh, nothing too extravagant. Merely a gathering in Hyde Park on the morrow with all of our friends.”
She turned her face toward him then, the corners of her mouth lifting although her eyes narrowed. “You are not teasing me, are you?”
“Would I do that?”
“Ha! Yes, you would!”
He shook his head. “Not about something as vitally important to the workings of the universe as a picnic I wouldn’t. Dining outside is serious business.”
Now she was smiling and turned toward him. “A picnic? Truly? That is a marvelous idea! Who have you invited?”
“Our closest friends. The Bingleys, Vernors, Daniels, Drurys, Lathrops, Fitzherberts, Fitzwilliams, and so on. And I plan to extend the invitation to Mr. Butler after we speak today, since I am fairly certain he will be betrothed to my sister as a result of our converse.”
“You figured that out all on your own?”
“Happy to see your sense of humor has returned, Mrs. Darcy. Indeed the puzzle was rather easy to solve since every day he finds himself in the general area of Grosvenor Square, spontaneously pausing to extend his respects. The casual offers to accompany Georgiana on walks or shopping excursions that no man in his proper state of mind would desire to suffer through was a large clue. But if that had not penetrated my thick skull, even I am not so dim-witted or unobservant to miss the loving glances and surreptitious caresses.”
“She has been waiting until the time was right, not wishing to add to your distress. I told her she was being ridiculous and that you would be thrilled. You are, are you not?”
“I can think of no impediments to the match. He is a good man and clearly in love with my sister. I recognize the pose when it is sincere. Furthermore, I like him.”
“I regret that I have been unable to interact with him more. Of course I am hearing of his perfection via Georgiana, but that assessment may be slightly skewed.”
Darcy chuckled and nodded. “Indeed the term ‘perfection’ may be overreaching, but he is a quality gentleman. I may not comprehend the musical discussions that frequently arise, generally choosing to vacate the premises when that topic is attended to, but he is equally versed in estate matters, horsemanship, and politics. He is also proficient at the billiard table.”
“Well that seals it then! As long as he is not better than you,” she teased.
“Surely I am allowed to retain one area of preeminence in my sister’s eyes since all others have been transferred to Mr. Butler?”
He smoothed the hair away from her bright face, bending to kiss each humorously glittering eye and then her lilting lips.
“So were you smiling due to your sister’s betrothal or the picnic?”
“Both fill me with delight, I confess. However, the impetuous for this particular smile, as saddened as I am by your peaked stomach, is the fervent hope that your lingering symptoms indicate we are blessed with a new life on the way.”
He spoke barely above a whisper, running one hand down her satin-gowned torso to rest upon her flat abdomen.
Lizzy touched his cheek. “Is this honestly how you feel, Fitzwilliam?”
“I will not lie or pretend that my initial reaction was not one of terror. I confess this and apologize for how I responded, Elizabeth.”
“It was your heart and natural given the situation.”
“Perhaps. Nevertheless it was wrong of me. I want you to know, beloved, that all afternoon, before any of the tragedy to follow, I realized how mistaken my sentiments.” He told her then of his visions of a daughter and his tremendous remorse at departing the house with unsettling tensions between them. “I chastised myself a fool, mostly for not conveying my feelings adequately or prioritizing us and our relationship over an afternoon’s entertainments. To be frank, my thoughts regarding a baby so soon were tumultuous still, until faced with the horror of losing you, Alexander, and our unborn child. That I would include her, or him, in that appalling possibility added to my distress as you cannot fathom, Elizabeth, but it clarified how I truly felt about the idea.”
His hand continued to rub gentle circles over her belly while the other pressed her palm tight against his cheek. “Every child will be welcomed and loved immensely, my dearest, whenever God chooses to bless us. Please forgive my lack of enthusiasm and any heartache my poorly chosen words caused. Trust me when I say that every shred of doubt or dismay has been erased with only joy remaining.”
Lizzy responded by weaving her fingers into the thick hair on the back of his head and drawing him back to her mouth with firm insistence. The other arm clenched around his back, aided by a leg thrown over his hips, both working to drag him onto her body. It was a demand and affirmation Darcy complied with, his hands greedily skimming over her satin-gowned flesh and pressing her against his chest.
For several minutes they kissed as if starved, rousing desire fueled by the need to erase the turmoil of the past week. Breathing erratic, Darcy parted from her lips to whisper, “Is this a thank-you for arranging the picnic or for granting my sister’s happiness or both?”
“Neither,” she retorted with a chuckle. “Or perhaps those points add to my hunger for you, but primarily it is simply that we have not made love since a week ago on your desk…”
He interrupted with a husky growl, trailing suckles along her neck, “What a titillating vision to conjure now!”
“Indeed. And as nice as a reenactment may be, I do not wish to delay even to walk there.”
“Elizabeth, are you sure we should do this now when…”
She clamped her palm over his mouth, eyes blazing with passion and irritation. “I am not constructed of glass, Fitzwilliam! Why is it that every time I develop the merest sniffle or cough you insist on believing me barely strong enough to raise a teacup and far too weak to engage in activity remotely strenuous when I insist I shall recuperate swifter if allowed to move about and maybe even make love to my husband, no matter how annoying I consider him at the moment, and when will you get it through that stubborn brain of yours that I
The verbal lashing that showed every sign of continuing on indefinitely was halted when he finally managed to peel her gripping fingertips from his face and clamped his mouth firmly over hers. The kiss startled her into silence, but did not last long since Darcy lost his battle in repressing laughter.
“My spunky wife is back in full form, praises to God!” he gasped amid the laughs. “And, I pray, your vacillating temper is further indication of pregnancy.” He traced a fingertip over her knitted brows, still chuckling as he continued, “I plead guilty of zealous guarding when you are incapacitated in any way and shall make no promises to ever change, as it is my character and duty. But believing you made of glass? Not at all! More tempered steel and pyracantha thorns are you, Mrs. Darcy! If I doubted your strength, and I never have, the doubt would have been
