Sharon Lathan - In the Arms of Mr. Darcy

And with that ringing impeachment, she stormed from the room, slamming the door behind. Darcy stood rooted to the floor, furious, but also stricken by her horrifying allegation. Lizzy, meanwhile, was pulled up short five steps past the still reverberating door when she realized she did not know where to go. Lost in confusion with rage and terror warring, she did not readily note her father lurking in the hall several paces away.

“Lizzy?”

She started, glancing upward and instantly losing control at the sight of her concerned father and sleeping baby. With a choking sob, she spun about and dashed down the corridor to her parlor. Naturally, Mr. Bennet followed, laying Alexander down onto a settee and walking to where Lizzy leaned against the windowsill weeping. He stood silently, concerned, but he was not one who easily dealt with women’s hysterics despite, or probably because of, long years in a household with six women. Reverting to the simple comfort of patting her shoulder and uttering a sympathetic there, there, he waited.

Eventually, Lizzy calmed enough to relate the dilemma. Mr. Bennet offered no answers or advice, being of the mind that marital difficulties were of an intimate nature beyond parental purview. He had only one statement, convincingly presented.

“As painful as Mr. Darcy’s decision, Lizzy, it will be compounded if you do not talk to him prior to his departure. The affection you two have for each other is too great to easily endure days apart under misspoken words and emotional estrangement.”

In time, they left the parlor, Alexander beginning to stir in Lizzy’s arms, just as Darcy neared the music room. The lovers’ eyes met in the dim expanse between, Lizzy’s swollen, red, and filled with pain and Darcy’s dull and inscrutable. He bowed slightly, turning without a word into the music room. Lizzy and Mr. Bennet trailed, Darcy already addressing the assembly when they entered and halted by the doorway.

“Forgive my abrupt exodus a while ago. I regret I have received ill news from Derby necessitating an early retirement, as I must depart at first light tomorrow. Please, enjoy yourselves fully. All that Pemberley has to offer is at your immediate disposal. Your most excellent hostess will ensure your comfort. Good night.” Another bow, this one formally proffered, was followed by a stiff pivot and swift exit, not glancing at Lizzy or her father.

Alexander, to Lizzy’s relief, chose that moment to release a loud yell, providing a logical excuse to leave. She nursed him alone, Darcy not joining her as he had nearly every night since Alexander’s birth. When she later entered their bedchamber, dressed in a gauzy gown of blue, he stood by the far window gazing outward at the visible stars and pale moonlight.

Lizzy had had plenty of time to think. She knew he was likely still angry and riddled with grief and misplaced guilt over the mill disaster, yet she could not deny her own overwhelming relief at his decision to stay. Correct she may have been, but there was no sense of victory in the idea. Only one thing was certain: she loved him far too much to part on negative terms. Her father was accurate on that count.

Darcy did not hear her steps on the thick carpet, lost in reverie and contemplation of the stars. She said nothing, merely standing behind his left shoulder and absorbing his beloved profile until the drifting scent of lavender reached his nostrils. He turned, countenance composed as he leaned into the wall and stared at her mutely.

The moment stretched, Lizzy finally reaching one hand and laying it on his chest. “Thank you for staying.” She spoke in a bare whisper, breathing deeply before continuing in the face of his silence. “I know you are angry with me, perhaps rightfully so, but I am not sorry for anything I said if it induced you to stay. I too feel grief for the families afflicted, William, but I am not ashamed to confess my selfishness. I cannot bear the thought of anything happening to you. We need you; it is as simple as that,” she finished firmly.

She lifted her chin bravely, holding his indecipherable gaze. It had been over a year since she had last been the recipient of the unreadable Darcy stare and she did not like it. The urgent desire to wrap her arms around him was unbearably painful to resist.

When Darcy moved, it startled her. He cupped her face with sturdy hands, bending until he was inches away, voice hoarse as emotion abruptly surged over his features. “I absolutely hate it when you are right and I am wrong, Mrs. Darcy. Please try not to make a habit out of the tendency.” His mouth curled faintly in a soft smile, eyes tender as they engaged hers.

And then he kissed her hard, absolving sobs caught in both throats as bodies melted together. It continued for a long time, spirits meshing as breath was shared. Lizzy was crushed against every plane of his body, but she did not care. When they pulled apart it was out of necessity for deep respirations, neither letting go. Darcy drew her head under his chin, holding her as physically close as possible. She rubbed her cheek against the mildly rough hairs on his chest, warmth flooding even in the midst of the cool window embrasure.

“I love you so much, Fitzwilliam! I am so, so sorry!”

He released an enormous sigh. “So am I.”

Taking her by the hand, he led her to the bearskin rug, fur burnished amber in the firelight. Wordlessly, he removed his robe, bare skin reflecting the flames, and reached dexterous fingers to untie each ribbon of her robe and discard it unhurriedly. The sadness in his eyes tore at her soul. Always naked before her as he was to no one else, she had often seen the pain of grief both past and present in his eyes. It ripped her heart, but she understood now that it was who he was. Tomorrow, in Derby, he would be the man of strength and serene control; everyone looking to him for the answers that he would give without hesitation. Tonight, in the privacy of their bedchamber with his soul mate, he could relax.

He ran heated palms down her arms, goose pimples rising in the wake of his touch, clasping each hand and pulling her onto the rug. He sat propped on the mass of cushions, Lizzy in his arms with back nestled to his chest. He said nothing, staring into the flickering flames with cheek pressed against her temple. He made no move other than to tenderly caress slightly calloused fingertips over her shoulders and arms. When he did speak, his tone was low and anguished.

“Is it wrong to be so content when people I am responsible for are suffering?”

“There are always people suffering, everywhere and at all times. Do not all individuals, even in the midst of travails, deserve happiness as it comes to them?”

Silence. Then, “Do you think less of me if I confess there are times I want to run from it all, forget about being ‘Master of Pemberley’ and just live simply somewhere with you and Alexander? No responsibilities except to love you eternally and play with our children as a child myself?”

She turned in his arms, pushing unruly locks away from his troubled eyes and feathering over each feature. “How could I think less of you for being human?”

They made love then. Slowly, long into the night, comfort and peace attained in the rapturous expression of bonding and love.

Lizzy woke as the first rays of dim sunlight peeked through the curtains. Darcy, fully clothed in traveling attire, entered their chambers with a squalling son in his arms. He smiled sunnily at his wife as she sat up in the bed, breasts full and ready.

“He has no interest in silly faces or words of devotion. Your breasts take precedence each time, not that I cannot relate to the sentiment.”

He sat beside her as Alexander ravenously attacked the nipple, Lizzy wincing slightly. Infant placated, she peered into her husband’s face, reaching her free hand to cup his jaw. He kissed her palm, smiling with only a hint of lingering pain evident.

“I will miss you, Mrs. Darcy.”

“I know. And I you. Be careful, my heart, and return to us quickly. I love you.”

“I know,” he grinned. “Thank you, my Lizzy, for being my comfort. You are my life and I will return quickly.” He kissed her temple then bent to nibble Alexander’s toes and bestow tiny kisses to chubby feet and hands. Returning to Lizzy’s mouth, they kissed lingeringly. With a final brush over her lips with his thumb and repeated I love you, he rose.

She watched him walk to the door, back straight with figure flawlessly masculine and controlled. He turned and, after a blown kiss and airy wave, was gone. 

Darcy was four miles south of Pemberley, clopping along at a swift gallop when the echoing thud of horse’s hooves not belonging to his mount penetrated his awareness. Glancing over his shoulder, he grunted once and lightly pulled on the reins, Parsifal slowing to a sedate walk. He had given no details as to why he was departing so early in the morning, had not asked for company, and assuredly did not need a bodyguard, yet found he was not the slightest bit surprised. Annoyed, yes, but not surprised.

The other horse pulled alongside, Darcy slowing to a halt and gracing its sunnily smiling rider with a decidedly unfriendly scowl. He leaned forward and growled, “Why are you here? I did not ask for company.”

“Can a fellow not take a morning ride in the bracing air? Are you the boss of the road, Mr. Darcy?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I am. This is my land and I did not give you permission to be here.”

The intruder looked around at the endless plains of frosted pasture and smoke-emitting chimneys rising from the numerous brick cottages nestled in between the empty fields. All was silent in the misty dawn gloom, only the faint scattered barks of dogs and lowing of cows needing to be milked a subtle reminder of life beyond the two horsemen. He shrugged unperturbed. “Very well, I will give you that, but as a sworn defender of the Crown, I think I outrank you even here and can, therefore, travel wherever I see fit.”