“Elizabeth, I love you so very much.” He kissed her deeply, withdrawing with effort and breathing slowly to calm. “Very well, I shall make the arrangements. Meet me in our chamber in one hour. I need to be alone with you.” She nodded and he kissed her again, turning and walking briskly away without a backward glance.
It was only when he was assuredly beyond view that she collapsed onto the bench. They had spoken several times of the potential for a trip to London. It was absolutely out of the question for Elizabeth to accompany him. In some respects the separation would be easier to handle, having already survived their first and recognizing the necessity for such partings as a fact of life. However, the timing with their firstborn so near to arriving added a drama to the severance that was horribly painful, especially to Darcy. Lizzy would be home, safe with family and friends. Darcy, conversely, would be alone with guilt wracking him and, heaven forbid, if anything tragic occurred, he would assuredly never forgive himself.
Lizzy had wisely known that only through action would he prevent succumbing to his distress. A whirlwind of frantic activity ensued, Darcy barking orders immediately upon entering the house. If the servants were momentarily stunned by the discourteous commands and stormy visage of their generally polite and buoyant Master, they quickly ascertained the cause. Nodding sagely and with compassion, they carried out the instructions hastily. Of course the staff was abundantly familiar with their Master coming and going, more than capable to handle all arrangements for a rushed departure.
Nonetheless, it was closer to two hours before he reached their chamber. Lizzy had conquered her sadness finally, washing and changing into Darcy's silk shirt to await his arrival. Sitting on the sofa before the fire as she attempted to allay her melancholy unsuccessfully, her unhappiness led to a bout of tears and then exhaustion until she fell asleep.
Darcy entered shortly thereafter, Lizzy's cheeks dry, but red-rimmed eyes indicative of her grief. The instant lurch of desire at seeing her in his shirt was quickly cooled by the evidence of her tears. Kneeling beside and smoothing the hair off her forehead, he leaned for a soft kiss.
“Beloved?”
She turned sleepily into his ready embrace, murmuring his name as her arms snaked over his shoulders. “Hold me, William.”
“Forever.” Lifting her to their bed, he stretched beside, enveloping completely and tenderly caressing with only deepest love ruling. For a long while they held each other. Darcy was content to snuggle close, feeling her warmth and softness. He delighted in the occasional nudges of their healthy child. Burying his face and hand into her luxuriant hair, and smelling the heady aroma of her perfume was more than enough to pacify his heart. It was Lizzy who moved first, lifting her head from its comfortable rest on his inner shoulder to gaze upon and stroke his beloved face.
Everything slowed down. Time appeared to halt, or at least drag along gradually. Very few words were spoken as Lizzy incrementally undressed her husband. The familiar joy and passion was there with an undercurrent of sorrow tempering the usual rage of heat. As they kissed and caressed with the rising fervor muted, they realized that their prolonged adoration was as much about the yearning to express their mutual devotion and further burn the image of the other onto all five senses, as it was about the desire to make love in some unforgettable manner.
They moved about the bed in all directions, needing to touch each other and view each other from all angles. Darcy removed his shirt, desiring to bare his wife to feasting hands and eyes more than experiencing any heightened ardency elicited by his garment. In truth, nothing augmented his passion more than her natural state. He reached for the ointment, massaging reverently over her expanded belly while she sat astride his thighs and played with the downy hair on his chest.
“Will you do this while I am gone?” he asked softly.
“Yes, although it may remind me of every time you perform the task and the natural outcome.”
She was attempting levity, but her voice broke at the end as the truth of her jest brought her sadness crashing down. Darcy frowned slightly, gazing into her eyes with disquiet.
“Elizabeth,” he began.
“Shhhh…” She pressed her lips to his and shook her head slightly. “Say nothing, dearest, just love me.”
“With all my heart and soul.” His kiss was hard and intense, hands working diligently over her abdomen and dipping underneath the swell to brush over sensitive regions. Lizzy moaned, rocking into his seeking fingers, rapidly losing herself to rising sensations of pleasure. Both were surprisingly interrupted by a particularly strong kick from baby Darcy into his father's palm.
Lizzy giggled. “I think he wants a little attention from his papa.”
“Can he not deduce I am otherwise occupied?”
Lizzy laughed louder. “He is a Darcy, thus demanding and persistent. You may as well give him what he seeks and trust me when I say he will likely not take no for an answer if he is like you.”
Darcy grinned, gently pushing Lizzy onto the bed as he positioned his body between her legs, face and hands on the beautiful swell. Currently the ripples of an insistent and active son were playing over the soft skin, Darcy amazed afresh at how evident the baby was from so deeply inside. Lately he had noticed particularly strong pushes of what could only be a tiny foot pressing so firmly that Darcy fleetingly believed he could grasp the extremity between his fingers. He tried, nearly succeeding only to have the limb disappear and moments later reemerge elsewhere on his wife's belly.
“How does he do that? Is he not too compacted to travel about so rapidly?”
“One would think,” Lizzy answered with a chuckle, fingers massaging over his scalp. “Yet I can assure you he manages to flip around easily, as I can feel him jabbing me everywhere.”
Darcy was silent, mouth pressed against the soft flesh around her navel while his hands kneaded the slick oil tenderly into her supple skin, all thoughts of sexual stimulation forgotten for the time being as he diligently applied to the task at hand. He could feel every movement of his unborn child under his palms with fresh amazement. Suddenly he wondered if perhaps in the very slightest way the awe and transcendent bliss regarding all aspects of this pregnancy had diminished with even the joyous job of rubbing the cream becoming a routine step leading to greater pleasures.
And now he would be leaving, unable to daily talk to his child and perform the duty of caring for her stretching abdomen. Pangs of dismay and guilt for allowing his approach to become anything less than the greatest delight swept through him. He frowned, kissing softly over the rising skin.
“What is it, my love?” she asked softly.
He shook his head, laying his cheek on her flattened navel. “Stay inside, my son,” he murmured. “Promise you will wait for me and be good to your mother. I love you, little one.”
“Do not fret, William. All will be well.”
As she spoke he transferred to lie beside her with body partially draped over and one hand yet rubbing the rippling bulge. He stared deeply into her eyes, propped on an elbow and toying with the loose strands of hair about her face. He was so serious, intently studying her face.
“What is it, my love?” she repeated. “Talk to me.”
His answer was slow in coming, mind clearly contemplating his words carefully while Lizzy waited and tenderly caressed over all available skin. Darcy shivered at the sensations educed, finally speaking huskily, “I am afraid, Elizabeth. Afraid to not be here for you, afraid of my loneliness without you, and afraid of causing the same negative emotions in you. But primarily I am afraid that I have disappointed you by taking it all for granted. You and our child and the miracle of it all. I am sorry if I have been in any way less attentive than I should be.”