Finally, they reached the end. A huge pile of rubble formed a beach of sort upon which they disembarked and gathered in a cluster to view the true marvel of Speedwell Cavern. Before them spread a cathedral-like cavern so huge that the ceiling was lost in darkness and so wide that the walls were a vague shadow. The entire area was the site of a vast lake known as the Bottomless Pit due to the fact that decades of excavation with thousands upon thousands of pounds of crumbled rock hewn from the tunnel system had been dumped into the pool without the water level ever changing. No appreciable dent was made, the underground lake seemingly extending to the center of the earth.
They stood on the edge, tossing rocks into the murky water, hearing the plunk as the waving surface was pierced, and wondering when, or if, the rock would finally come to rest upon another. But no one had the answer.
The ride back was quiet, no one wanting to disturb the experience with idle chitchat. It was not until they were again in their carriage heading back to Chelmbridge that Lizzy broke her dazed silence as she tried to describe the environment to Alexander. He, of course, had no idea what she was talking about, but he listened intently nevertheless!
Chelmbridge was a comfortable abode, as Darcy knew it would be. Alexander settled happily into his new surroundings and strange bed, once again proving that he was an unusually accommodating child. Lizzy and Darcy had no comparison, assuming it was fairly normal, a presumption that George found especially amusing. He humorously cautioned them to stop while they were ahead, a jest Darcy frowned at. Yet as they spent more time with the offspring of their friends, they began to realize just how fortunate they were. Not that the Vernor boys or Hughes children were unruly, but they clearly possessed degrees of naughtiness and irritability that Alexander, so far, seemed to lack.
Tonight was a perfect example. Darcy feared Alexander might be weary or especially cranky after three days away from the routine of Pemberley and his familiar surrounds, and being dragged about the rugged countryside in the heat. He was wrong.
The baby ate well of his mashed sweet yams and barley porridge, and then nursed until Lizzy was drained. Darcy assumed care from there, taking Alexander into his temporary nursery for story time while Lizzy relaxed and penned a letter to her sister, Jane. Darcy read from his novel, this time Rob Roy by Walter Scott, while Alexander reclined in his arms, sucked on his thumb, and rubbed rhythmically on one ear of his favorite stuffed toy—the hound dog Darcy had purchased so long ago at the shop in Derby, now officially dubbed “Dog” and Alexander’s constant companion. He was wide awake tonight, calm and attending to each spoken word. He stared at his father, eyes following the movement of his lips and studying the dramatic expressions Darcy added to the text as he read. Sometimes the babe fell asleep within ten minutes of warm cuddling against his father’s strongly beating heart, the musical tones of Darcy’s baritone soothing him into a deep slumber. Other times he was alert, babbling and pointing pudgy fingers on the pages opened before him as if reading along with the words.
However the interlude went, Darcy considered it his favorite time of the day. Long after Alexander fell asleep, Darcy would hold him, rocking and embracing. Frequently, time was lost in rapt contemplation of the face he loved so intensely it was a sweet ache. Like his adoration for Elizabeth, the emotions never ceased to uplift his heart and overwhelm him.
Eventually though, it was time to nestle the infant into his cushioned bed, turning his immediate care over to his devoted nanny. Several kisses later, Darcy crossed the hall to the bedchamber suite set aside for the Darcys. Mr. Logan had prepared a spacious set of rooms with a wonderful view of Mam Tor, the chambers airy and elegantly decorated. They were homey, Lizzy and Darcy settling almost as easily as Alexander had.
Darcy had no expectations for romance when he entered the room a half-hour later after washing and undressing, but one glance at his wife revised that opinion. He stopped cold four paces into the room, only able to stare as the blood instantly departed his brain for places further south.
She sat on a chair facing toward him, her long shapely legs crossed at the knees, the top one swinging gracefully. Her arms rested on the chair arms, slim fingers tapping lightly. She was smiling, that sultry smile that alone drove him mad, and her chocolate eyes glittered in the candlelight. She wore the Blue John earrings he bought her, the vivid blue and silver dangling against the ivory expanse of her neck; her thick hair was loosely piled atop her head secured with the Blue John comb, dozens of curly strands falling over her shoulders and framing her face; and the necklace of blue and yellow veined stone hung about her neck, the pendant cradled between her naked breasts. In fact, as he noted immediately upon crossing the threshold, she was completely naked. Except for the jewelry, that is. Not that he noticed them for several seconds, but once he did they added to the eroticism of the spectacle in a profound way that only weakened him further as more blood rushed to his lower regions.
“Enjoying the view, Fitzwilliam?”
“Immensely. Lovely necklace.”
“Thank you,” she said, running her fingertips seductively over the pendant and brushing the swell of her breasts. “My husband has excellent taste.”
“Indeed I do,” he murmured huskily, his roving eyes leaving no doubt that he was not referring to the jewels.
Her smile deepened. She stood and paused for effect, knowing full well that her libidinous spouse would appreciate the picture. Then she languidly strolled toward him, her lissome body swaying sensuously, meeting him where he remained rooted in the middle of the room.
He could have moved, his muscles not so weak or paralyzed, but he rather delighted in the visual treat of her slender figure sinuously approaching. She was as svelte as the day they married, but softer with lush, womanly curves in all the right places. Her breasts bounced pleasantly as she walked, the stray wisps of wavy hair buoyantly brushing over her lightly bronzed skin.
She encircled his shoulders and laced her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. “And how was that view? As breathtaking as the previous?”
His answer was a lascivious grin and gravelly growl as he drew her firmly against his body. “Any question as to how immensely I admired the view?” The blazing heat emanating from his skin and the aroused length of him pressing into her belly did indeed answer her redundant question.
She chuckled, succumbing rapidly to her own response, especially now that he was already kissing his way down her neck and skillfully caressing her bare flesh. She released the belt holding his robe in place, parting the satiny fabric and sliding her hands over his waist and derriere. She pressed her breasts against his chest, rubbing deliciously over the hair covering his steely muscles, and lifted on her tiptoes to capture an earlobe between her lips.
“I thought it was past time to see if this bed is as sturdy as ours at home.” And then she proceeded to lick lightly over his ear.