was essential, even at the risk of hurt feelings.
Lady Underwood was another matter. Her anger toward that lady had simmered all night even in her dreaming state. There was no excuse, in Lizzy's eyes, for a woman to act in such a way. There were plenty of unattached men in the world for her to fraternize with, as disgusting and immoral as even that activity was to Lizzy. Yet certainly better than enticing married gentlemen, especially after they made it perfectly clear they were uninterested. Depravity warped into pure evil when one considered her threats to Darcy and counterfeit amiability toward Lizzy. This was not a lonely woman seeking comfort and companionship. This was a wicked narcissist bent on destruction.
Lizzy's knock was answered by a maid who admitted Lizzy and exited to inform Lady Underwood she had a visitor. Lizzy waited, experiencing a strange detachment. All night, even in her sleep, she had imagined what she would say or do, never doubting for one second that she would not confront the so-called lady in some manner. Pistols or swords were out of the question, but she now better comprehended Darcy's need for retribution. With well-laid plans intact, she evaded her husband and now waited.
However, calmly conceived ideas dissipated as rapidly as smoke in a stiff breeze the moment Lady Underwood entered the room.
“Mrs. Darcy. What a delightful surprise to see you in my room so early in the morning.” She was dressed for breakfast, her hair yet unstyled, the smile on her lips only partially hiding the curiosity and trepidation.
Instantly the fury of last evening poured through Lizzy, with vivid pictures of this creature touching her husband invading her mind. She lashed out with every ounce of the bizarrely extreme strength she possessed in her svelte body and delivered a stunning slap to Lady Underwood's left cheek. The stricken woman staggered and cried out in pain, gasping in shock.
“That was for having the audacity to accost my husband,” Lizzy said calmly, following her words with another ringing blow to the same place. “That was for evilly pretending to be my friend.”
Lady Underwood whimpered, tears stinging her eyes as she peered at Lizzy with undisguised fright and astonishment.
“You are a disgrace to all that your title symbolizes and an ignominy to womankind. How you can live with yourself is a mystery. You should wither with the shame, but instead you persevere, which leads me to conclude you lack a soul and conscience. I pity you, my lady, I truly do. Yet my pity does not transcend my wrath. If you have even a shred of decency or, at the least, a modicum of wisdom, you will avoid my husband and me. I can do no more than strike you. Mr. Darcy of Pemberley can do far worse. You have been warned and would be very wise to remember that fact.”
She left the room with chin held high. In truth she was trembling slightly from residual temper, but primarily felt exhilarated and satisfied. A flash of movement to her left caused her to glance toward the stairs leading to the ground floor where Darcy was in the process of descending in a rush.
“William?”
He halted and twirled about all in one motion, nearly tumbling down the stairs and grasping the banister to correct his imbalance. His face was suffused with distress, paling substantially as he glanced from Lizzy to the door she had just exited.
“Elizabeth, what…”
Words abruptly ceased when Lord and Lady Stewart appeared from around the corner. Pleasantries were conveyed, Darcy recovering quickly although he kept glancing to Lizzy, who acted as if nothing was amiss. In fact, she was particularly effusive. The second they were out of sight he turned to his wife, running hands over her upper body as if checking for injury. He noted the redness to her right palm before she had the chance to speak, eyes widening with sudden shock as he peered into her mildly embarrassed but triumphant eyes.
“I do not believe Lady Underwood will be as pretty as she usually is for several days. Perhaps that will inhibit her ensnaring any other innocent gentlemen.”
“You… hit her?”
“Well, she deserved it!”
“Indubitably.” He laughed shortly, taking her elbow and steering her to the third-floor stairwell. “I should scold you most profoundly, but I…” He laughed again, a bit hysterically, leaning his head back against the wall with eyes pleading heavenward. “Lord, why? I honestly did wish for a simple life. Was that too much to ask for?”
“Oh bother! Simplicity is overrated. Spirit and passion are preferential. Now quit whining and take me to breakfast. I have worked up an appetite.” She tiptoed for a quick peck to his cheek, but he stayed her for a sober examination of her eyes.
“Are you certain you are well, Elizabeth? Completely, heart and soul? And our child? I truly was very frightened when you were gone.” His voice caught, Lizzy doused with sorrow. She encircled his waist tightly, entire body pressed hard against him with their son protesting and kicking vigorously.
“I assure you we are perfect, body and soul. I beg your forgiveness, but it was something I had to do. Tell me you understand?”
He nodded, but his eyes were troubled. “I suppose I do. But you could have been injured, Elizabeth. Like it or not, it is my duty to protect you and handle physical confrontations.”
“There are some matters that are mine to deal with, William.” She looked up into his face, smiling comfortingly although her voice was resolute. “No woman will ever be allowed to touch you without hearing from me. Never!”
Lady Underwood departed the resort that morning, offering no good-byes. Speculative gossip abounded, but the Darcy name was never mentioned. As for the Darcys, they spoke no further on the subject. Lessons were learned, similar errors would never be made in the future, and thus the book was closed. Darcy would not completely forget. He was not a vengeful man by nature so did nothing permanently designed to punish Lady Underwood. However, his claim of power was not an exaggeration. There were ways available to a man of superior means, avenues open to exhibit one's clout and potential without actually doing anything. Suffice to say, Lady Underwood also learned a lesson and would be a bit more cautious in her future seductions.
Chapter Nine
The remaining days of their seaside sojourn would pass exclusively at the resort and were uneventful, comparatively speaking. By mutual agreement they decided that sightseeing, although educational and exhilarating, was not as preferable as simply lying about the beach and assuredly not as divinely stimulating as seabathing. Therefore, they reverted to the pattern established on their first few days: sleeping late and dining late followed by a time in the water; lazy afternoons on the beach; leisurely strolls along the wooded trails or shoreline collecting shells; evenings in various pursuits with the other guests; quiet contemplations of the ever-changing sunset; moonlight walks on the sand or pier; and the occasional individual recreations.
One day it clouded and drizzled, but Lizzy insisted on taking their walk regardless, to Darcy's initial discomfort. The nuzzling kisses enjoyed under the close confines of the umbrella dispelled most of his unease; the rich aroma of wet loam and pine allayed the residual. The storm worsened in the afternoon, causing the surf to roar and upsurge dramatically. They sat cozily in the parlor sipping hot cocoa before the fire and watched the impressive display all afternoon.
A hastily discharged missive to the Lathrops was equally hastily replied to, the positive response arriving the day before the Darcys were to depart. They were both very anxious to be home, but decided a short three-day visit to the Lathrops' estate, Stonecrest, a perfect cap to a perfect holiday.
Their final night was passed on the end of the pier. Dinner was arranged by the resort staff, privately by candlelight as the sun provided a majestic living mural in its decline and the tides supplied the music. The fare was superb, but it would not have mattered as it was the atmosphere and communion that brought the greatest joy to their hearts.
“May I have this dance, Mrs. Darcy?”
Lizzy laughed, taking her husband's proffered hand and assuming a waltz pose. He did this frequently, surprising her at odd moments with a request to dance as he hummed a tune. Of course, the primary excuse was to
