“Agony?” she asked in a bare whisper.
He turned her in his arms, cupping her face with his hands, thumbs caressing. “I want you so, my beloved. Do you know what exquisite torture it is to be so close to you, to feel your touch, gaze upon your enchanting beauty, and yearn to make love to you with every muscle in my body, yet not be able to even kiss you?”
She smiled. “Yes, William, I do know. Were you fantasizing again, beloved?”
“Always. Carefully, however, or the entire assembly would have been witness to Darcy of Pemberley’s more personal and private attributes.”
Lizzy laughed, reaching down while kissing his lips lightly, she said, “I would rather keep those marvelous attributes for mine eyes only.”
“You forever shall, Elizabeth. Now, stay here a moment.” He added a log to the fire and then lit a couple lamps, returning hastily to where she patiently stood. With a stunning smile and graceful bow, he asked, “Mrs. Darcy, may I have this dance?”
She giggled at his silliness, but curtseyed properly, “You may, Mr. Darcy.”
In a flawless waltz position, humming Mozart in perfect pitch, he swept her about the room. Full orchestra music was unnecessary. As regally as at the Masque, their clothing impeccable and movements as one, they floated. The flowing, elegant steps proceeded naturally as they raptly adored each other. As they glided through the sensuous swaying motions, Darcy incrementally lured her closer to his body until they touched. His left hand grasped Lizzy’s right, fingers interlaced, and he kissed each finger before placing their enfolded hands against his heart. They danced, twirled, and wove in unity and rhythm as their passion heightened. Both were panting and light-headed with a burning desire.
Darcy steered her to the edge of the bed, laying her down smoothly as he hovered above her, supporting himself so as not to crush her. “I love you, Elizabeth,” he murmured and then engulfed her mouth with a hungry urgency. One seeking hand traveled leisurely over her body, tantalizing her through the filmy satin of her gown as she arched to meet him. With a throaty groan, he pulled away from her lips momentarily, studying her rapturous face, and continuing to arouse her with his fingers as she gasped and trembled while skillfully arousing him. They kissed again as if starved, delirious with rising ardor, wanting to be joined together intimately as if life depended on it, yet unable to break from the consummate rapture of shared breath.
Raining moist kisses over her neck, he peeled the delicate fabric off one shoulder, traveling to her exposed bosom for gentle kisses. In time he moved to kneeling on the floor between her legs. Caressing under her skirt and petticoat until the urgent craving to love each other consumed them, they joined forcefully and blissfully.
“William! My heart, oh God, how I love you!” She clutched his shoulders under his jacket, succumbing to the joy of him, the love and passion that consumed her now and always. On they loved, heaven attained eventually as they molded bodily and melded spiritually.
Darcy collapsed onto her. Words were temporarily impossible, all effort expended on breathing. Lizzy’s wits resurfaced first. Running her fingers through his hair, her head turning to kiss his cheek, she murmured, “Fitzwilliam, my lover, I adore you more than life.”
Darcy lifted on an elbow, fingering along her face with one hand while the other embedded into the curls spilling over her right shoulder. He kissed her tenderly. “You are beautiful, my wife. All night I watched you dazzling and charming the citizens of Derbyshire, and pride consumed me. I cannot believe you are mine, my Lizzy, my treasure. I am the most fortunate of men.”
She smiled, “We are both fortunate, husband. Now, I want to feel your glorious naked body surrounding me as we sleep. You have blissfully exhausted me, so I shall need your assistance to undress.”
He chuckled, kissed her lightly. “I am not certain I can stand, so we may need to help each other!” They did, the process of unclothing the other eliciting a mild state of reoccurring arousal, but in the end they were blessedly spent and required sleep. At least for the moment.
Chapter Sixteen
The Long Winter
Winters in Derbyshire tended to be harsher and longer than in Hertfordshire. In the days immediately following the ball, the weather turned threatening: ominous clouds gathered and persisted unabated for weeks, occasionally disbursing sheets of rain or snow. Those brief episodes when the sky cleared were grabbed expeditiously. After the Masque, life in the region settled into a protracted period of waiting. For the younger and more society-craving citizens, it was an agony of boring days and nights passed in impatient endurance until the spring thaw permitted the mass exodus to London.
For Lizzy, it was the most blissful period of her life. She had her moments of restlessness when the need to stretch her legs overwhelmed her until she would brave the cold and her husband’s frown for an extended turn about the frozen gardens. Otherwise, she found that each day brought new wonders, numerous activities both at Pemberley and with her new friends, family time, duties and lessons to learn as Mistress, and always overshadowing it all, the love for Darcy that grew daily.
Until the ninth of January, Lizzy devoted every possible minute to close communion with her aunt and uncle. Darcy and Mr. Lathrop also sensed the need to strengthen their friendship. Lizzy and Amelia became confidantes, a development that greatly pleased the gentlemen. Amelia revealed to Lizzy and Violet that she had recently confirmed she was with child. The two women were ecstatic for her, Lizzy plying her with questions and Violet offering words of wisdom. Tentative plans were laid to meet in Town during the coming May, if Amelia’s pregnancy allowed.
On the evening of the eighth, the day before their guests were to depart, the Darcys hosted the dinner party that Darcy had impulsively arranged during the Masque. Along with the Lathrops and the Gardiners, there were Gerald and Harriet Vernor, George and Alison Fitzherbert, Rory and Julia Sitwell, Clifton and Chloe Drury, and Albert and Marilyn Hughes.
Gerald Vernor and Albert Hughes were the two closest friends, dating from Darcy’s youth. These three, along with Richard Fitzwilliam and George Wickham, had been nearly inseparable when young. Darcy and Hughes were avid billiards players and, by the tender age of seventeen, had so mastered the game that no one in all of Derbyshire could supplant them as the county’s champions. Darcy, Vernor, and the future Col. Fitzwilliam had in common a passion for horses. Wickham was younger than the other boys and had shadowed them more than anything, although they had honestly considered him a friend until he went wild as a young man at University.
Rory Sitwell had become acquainted with Darcy at Cambridge. Neither man had met the other before, so it was a pleasant coincidence to establish a mutual friendship with someone from home. Sitwell’s personality was similar to Darcy’s and Lathrop’s: reserved, taciturn, serious, dry witted, and aloof. Vernor, Hughes, and Col. Fitzwilliam inclined toward affability, jocularity, and gaiety. They were an odd group by all outward appearances, but like Darcy and Bingley, their opposite natures blended. Among the many traits the men did have in common were moral uprightness and fierce loyalty to their families and community.
George Fitzherbert and Clifton Drury were well into their late thirties and, although Darcy knew them from town, they were not close friends. Normally Darcy would not have been disposed to invite them to dine at Pemberley; however, Lizzy’s positive impression of their wives had pleased Darcy, so he had happily included them.