Thus it was she who harshly pulled him into her where she leaned breathlessly against the bedpost. Frantic fingers attacked buttons while he loomed placidly before her. She feverishly removed impeding clothing while he feathered steady fingertips over her neck and exposed skin, mouth exhaling hotly breathed poetry onto a tingling scalp and sensitive ear. “Your smile stops the minutes And as moments they dance in candlelight.While your eyes whisper secrets, My heart with wings takes flight.In search for more of you to know, Of why and what make you so,Then mystery pleads her case And once again I found your face.There to know beauty true And gentle winds of peace and love,With eyes like jewels shining, Looking to the One above.And the moments which find life there Become the brightest stars above,Which live forever beautiful In the sky of my heart’s love.”

Lizzy paused, having managed to bare the majority of their bodies, hands now stilled at his waist as she listened to the romantic words.

“I recognized Marlowe, Shakespeare, Lord Byron, and Keats. Who wrote the last one?” She withdrew, gazing upward into his glowing visage.

“Did you like it?”

“Very much. It was beautiful.”

He smiled, bending closer and grazing along her cheek with his lips. “I wrote it for you, my heart’s love.”

“You wrote it?”

He chuckled, tickling her ear. “You sound shocked. I was once forcefully informed that only a fine, stout love is nourished by poetry. I do believe ours qualifies. Besides, Jane should not be the only Bennet daughter to have pretty verse written for her.” He nibbled tiny bites across fragile collarbones, hands airily removing her thin chemise. “Has my ideal method of encouraging affection borne fruit?”

She nodded, moaning in response to stimulating fingers. “Indeed. As has my recommendation of dancing. You appear highly affectionate.”

“Indeed,” he rasped, claiming her mouth in an impassioned kiss while pressing harshly against her, his wide palms flattened on her bottom. Unhurriedly they kissed, Darcy voracious, but in no rush to halt the pleasure found in her mouth. Until, that is, the rising appetite to taste the other delectable parts of her body overrode. Steadily moving lower, he assaulted her flesh, hands and mouth utilized effectively.

Lizzy truly thought she would faint. “Fitzwilliam!” she pleaded, not certain if she was begging for him to pause for a moment’s respite or to hurry ere she perished from the aching need for him.

“Hold on,” he commanded gruffly. Lizzy was momentarily too befuddled to understand what he meant, but clarity was provided seconds later. Lizzy gasped and reached to cling to the mahogany carved post above her head, abundantly thankful that her husband had a firm grip.

“William, please!”

Darcy rose, holding securely to her shivering body. Lizzy clutched onto his rigid muscles, hands weaving through his hair.

“Dancing and poetry,” he said, his impassioned, rough voice casting jolts along sensitized nerves. “A lethal combination. I love you so desperately, my Lizzy!”

One short step to the left and they fell together onto the blanket chest at the end of their enormous bed, Darcy never relinquishing the hold on his wife. Subsequent words either of poetry or anything remotely coherent were forgotten. The only dancing hereon was the timeless dance of passionate lovemaking.

“Please hold still, Miss Bennet. I do not wish to prick you with the needle.”

“Yes, be cautious, Kitty, or you will end up with a blood spot on your gown. Georgiana could hide such a flaw, but you may have difficulty!”

Lizzy laughed at Mary’s quip, Kitty ignoring all of them as she continued to attempt craning for a glimpse of the trailing yards of organza bustled over her bottom. Madame du Loire knelt behind Kitty, needle and thread busily cinching the gathers along the waistline.

The modiste and her assistants were attending to the final alterations to Kitty and Georgiana’s gowns, the annual Twelfth Night Masquerade Ball held by Sir Cole scheduled for that evening. Kitty had chosen an organza in pale turquoise, delicate lace edging the entire creation. Madame du Loire worked her magic, crafting a ball dress exquisite and stylish. It was far and away the most elegant gown Kitty had ever owned and her delight was uncontainable. Fortunately, the couturier was experienced in dealing with fidgety young girls, managing the minute alterations without mishap.

Georgiana, in sharp contrast, stood nearby on a chair in a pose of serene passiveness. Far more accustomed to the ofttimes time-consuming task of painstaking tailoring, Georgiana gazed composedly into the tall mirror while the seamstress adjusted the hemline. Her gown was velvet in a vibrant maroon. The sleeves to both dresses were elbow length, modest in style generally speaking, except for daring necklines that displayed maturing décolletages.

Lizzy sat on the sofa beside Mary, Alexander asleep against her chest within a swaddle of purple and yellow Indian linen, eyeballing the figure of her newest sister with tremendous amusement. Her humor arose from the visualized expression she knew would cross her husband’s face upon seeing his “baby” sister so attired. While Darcy plotted Georgiana’s official introduction into Society come spring with businesslike precision, he nonetheless persisted in thinking of her as yet a child. Lizzy teased him for this paradoxical attitude, but he always looked at her with utter incomprehension. He had not quite figured out how to deal with the contradiction that a Georgiana of marriageable eighteen and a debutante was no longer the grubby faced youngster in his mind’s eye.

“Mary dear, it is not yet too late to fashion a gown for you,” Georgiana spoke softly at the reflected Mary sitting beside Lizzy. “Please reconsider!”

Mary lifted her chin stubbornly but did smile faintly at her dear friend. “Have we not exhausted this discussion, Georgiana? Balls hold no interest to me, which is fortuitous. A solicitor and his wife will likely receive few invitations to fancy dances, a fact that is abundantly pleasing to both Mr. Daniels and me.”

Lizzy hid a smile into the top of Alexander’s curly haired head. As news regarding the upcoming Masque became a prime topic of conversation, the inevitable subject of Mary and her betrothed attending was advanced. Lizzy vividly recollected the expression of utter horror that flew over Mr. Daniels’s instantly pale face. He had snapped his eyes to Mary with such mute pleading that everyone in the room had collectively coughed to avoid laughter.

Gradually over the past weeks, the young man had relaxed his glaring discomfiture at being a guest in Mr. Darcy’s home, the extended hours with his fiancée greatly easing the embarrassment. He had even loosened enough to join the family in several entertainments, including the manly pursuits partaken of each evening. Nevertheless, the concept of dressing the part of high society and attending a formal function was beyond endurance, and privately, he prayed for the days to pass speedily, fearful that at any moment his normally sober, rational fiancée would succumb to the female twittering and change her mind.

It did not help that hours were passed in the ballroom as Darcy, Richard, Charles, and George led the ladies in waltz lessons and dancing practice. Georgiana was fairly proficient, but neither Kitty nor Jane had ever attempted the waltz. In two short years, the scandalous dance of Vienna had spread like wildfire through England, even making an appearance at Almack’s. Although generally frowned upon and denounced harshly by some commentators, it increasingly showed up at even remote village assembly halls. Per typical human nature, this antagonism only served to advance the popularity of the intimate dance. Also typical was the blind eye turned to all historical evidence regarding the acceptance and fame of far more sensational dances, such as the volta, by royalty past.

Mr. Daniels need not have worried, as Mary viewed the waltz as further indication of the steady slide into debauchery and sinfulness! She could not deny that the couples were graceful in how they glided about the room, but her cheeks flamed and lips pursed nonetheless. Georgiana and Kitty were oblivious, far too enamored with the entertainment. Jane’s natural poise ensured her ability to adapt, but Kitty was unfamiliar with the stilted formality of a grand ball. Meryton Assembly country dancing was of a different character altogether, so studious attention was paid to teaching her the propriety demanded.