“I shall endeavor to be a good boy; however, I seriously doubt you would argue terribly if I fail.”
“Awfully confident you are, sir! Smug and arrogant.”
“Yes I am, and I can tell by your expression that you are neither shocked nor dismayed. Shall I prove my conceit, my lover, or do we leave the bed for nourishment first?” He accented the challenge with a firm caress over one round swelling buttock, fingers probing, and grin wide.
Lizzy squirmed from his grasp, both laughing. Planting a glancing kiss to his lips, she stood, grasping his hands and tugging. “Come, love. Let me feed you before you faint.”
Chapter Eight
Just Desserts
The afternoon following their Yarmouth excursion found them again reclining under the umbrella on the sand. Darcy read aloud while Lizzy sewed another baby garment. Caught up in their tasks, with the now familiar sounds and smells of the ocean washing through their subconscious, neither noted the servant approaching until he spoke.
“Pardon me, Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy. These just arrived for you and here is today's London Times as you requested.” He held a twine-wrapped bundle of parchment and folded newspaper in his hand, handing them to Darcy.
“Letters from home,” he murmured. “Mr. Keith with updates. A letter from Georgie, one from Bingley, your mother, and Mrs. Lathrop.” The latter two were taken by Lizzy, who opened Amelia's first.
Minutes passed in silent reading, Lizzy breaking the quiet first with a happy shout.
“Amelia delivered a girl!”
“Oh, how wonderful!” Darcy smiled with true feelings of joy, instantly thinking of Stephen while simultaneously imagining his own emotions when the time came. “Did all proceed smoothly? Mrs. Lathrop is well?”
“The baby was born three weeks ago now. They named her Fiona Heather. Amelia says she resembles Stephen, but has her green eyes. Oh, what a wonder!” Lizzy sighed, reading on with a smile.
“The birth… Does she speak of it?”
Lizzy glanced over to see him serious with a hint of anxiety in his pale eyes. She squeezed his hand, smiling tenderly. “She is well, love. The birth was long, she writes, as is expected, but there were no complications. Do not worry so, William. Everything will be fine, I promise.”
He pressed his lips tightly together, jaw clenching, but he nodded and returned to his letter. At odd moments as the weeks advanced, Darcy would find his thoughts dwelling on the final birth process and possible emergencies. Lizzy was healthy and very strong, as was their child by all indications, but he knew well from stories and family traumas how horribly wrong it could end. The thought of losing their baby terrified him, but not nearly as much as losing Elizabeth.
A deep sigh from his wife interrupted the threatening stabs of fear. “I miss Amelia. I wish I could see her and the baby. Who knows when we will be able to travel again between winter and infants to care for?”
“We could visit on our way home, if you wish. Leicestershire is not far out of the way, and I am certain they would not mind.”
“Could we? Oh, William! That would be so wonderful! You are brilliant and far too good to me.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Thank you, dear, but I was only thinking of myself as Lathrop is the best billiard player after Hughes that I know.” He picked up Mr. Keith's missive, feigning indifference while Lizzy chuckled.
Mr. Keith's letter was brief, stating that all was well with harvest beginning as usual, sheep being prepared for market, and the horses all responding according to the breeding plans. Georgiana delivered a rambling dissertation of her adventures sans any mention of Lord Gruffudd now that they had left his vicinity of Wales, to Darcy's mumbled pleasure. His uncle had included a short paragraph stating that they expected to return by the second week of September. Mrs. Bennet gave a typically detailed commentary of the local gossip, some of which actually interested Lizzy, noting in passing that Mr. Bennet and Kitty were well. Charles declared that all was in hand with the plans for relocation, the actual move to take place mid-October.
After the letters were read and shared, Darcy turned to the newspaper. Even on holiday he could not eschew keeping abreast of current events and business affairs. This compulsion was not only due to years of habit but also an obligation related to his station and influence.
“Ah! Look here, love. An entire article on Miss van Lingen landing her balloon on Hampstead Heath. She landed safely, not precisely where she planned to in the vastness of the park, but close enough that the awaiting spectators and reporters could relocate. Excellent!”
That evening they dined with a company of guests. The food was excellent, as always, and the lively conversation enjoyable, especially to Lizzy. Darcy was reserved, as was typical, his contributions limited and mostly confined to discussions of politics with a new resident of the inn, a barrister named Spade, who sat next to him. Lady Underwood was dining as well, but thankfully for Darcy, sat at another table. Nonetheless, he was uncomfortable, her presence and noisy laugh constantly reminding him of events he wanted to forget.
After dinner scheduled entertainment was a chess tournament for the men, although two brave women insisted on playing, and a fashion exhibit for the ladies. Darcy nervously separated from his wife, unable to resist casting a cold, warning glance toward Lady Underwood. She smiled benignly, her eyes hard. Darcy's irritation and trepidation increased, but there was nothing he could do.
Three modistes from Yarmouth brought living models to show the latest styles from abroad. It was wonderful fun with tea and refreshments offered, animated banter, and many of the accessories available for purchase.
Lady Underwood sat near Lizzy, seemed to take a special interest in her, in fact. Lizzy was flattered and sensed nothing amiss, honestly delighting in the older woman's charm and wit. Despite the gap in their upbringing and age, Lizzy felt relaxed and accepted.
The segregated portion of the night passed swiftly for Lizzy, but Darcy had difficulty concentrating on his game. Lizzy anxiously awaited her husband's reappearance, yet was content for the time being, enjoying the conversation and female entertainment.
When the gentlemen began filing in as their games ended, Lizzy kept an eye on the door from her seat at the settee where Lady Underwood sat beside her. Darcy entered, eyes immediately scanning the room for his wife, spying her seconds before she glanced up. Lady Underwood was currently speaking, her visage gay as all hung on her every word, one hand lying lightly on Lizzy's forearm. Darcy froze, instant rage masked from all in the room behind his regulated façade. Lizzy glanced up, automatically issuing a dazzling smile that wilted moments afterward at the constrained thunder in his eyes.
He crossed the room with minimal strides, entire body tense, bowing curtly to the assembled ladies and offering a brisk preamble. “Pardon me, ladies. Mrs. Darcy, it is time for us to retire.” He held out his hand, Lizzy taking it with open mouth and scarlet cheeks. She murmured vague good nights, sensing Darcy's stress and impatience, further baffled and embarrassed by a brief but harsh glare directed at a triumphantly smirking Lady Underwood.
They did not speak until in their room. Darcy was seething and frantically wondering what he was to say to Lizzy after his precipitous rudeness. Lizzy was confused and worried and irritated all at once.
“William, what is the matter…?”
“Elizabeth,” he interrupted, vainly struggling to soften his tone. “Please forgive me for that. It was rude and ungentlemanly I know, but I could not bear to see her talking to you so intimately.”