The first three days in Town passed quietly and quickly. Georgiana and Elizabeth enjoyed their hours together, since they had spent so little time in solitary communion over the past week. The Bingleys, with Mary and Kitty, would be arriving the day before Lizzy's birthday. As of yet, the appearance of the Darcys to London had sparked no interest, although they both understood that the barrage of invitations and calling cards were inevitable. By day two, Lizzy was almost one hundred percent well with only the usual vague queasiness and food aversions, which were becoming rather normal to her. After two nights of deep sleep in her husband's arms, even her annoying fatigue had vanished. As she had done during her early days at Pemberley, she utilized the time while Darcy was away to wander about the house.

Darcy House was tiny and nondescript compared to the opulence and vastness of Pemberley, but when contrasted with the other manors in and around Grosvenor Square, it was majestic. Constructed of polished white stone, it appeared to glow. Numerous tall, arched, multi-paned windows spaced evenly across the entire front allowed beams of light to illuminate all the rooms. Although possessing far fewer rooms than Pemberley, at two stories high, not counting the basement level, and nearly an entire block wide, Darcy House was spacious and accommodating. The sizable and impressive library was also Darcy's study, the enormous parlor housed the grand pianoforte, and there was only one dining room but it was expansive and lavish. The ballroom was generous, if a fourth of Pemberley's, and the billiard room, a necessity in a Darcy household, included a host of gaming features and was ample. The eight guest chambers were comfortable, luxurious, and modern if relatively modest in size.

The master chambers were located on the first floor and opened onto a walled private garden. These rooms were immense and decorated with Darcy's preferred rustic tones and simplicity. When Elizabeth had toured the house during their engagement, she had been shown every room except for Darcy's. They had not specifically discussed it at the time, but propriety as well as the heightened sensual awareness they both experienced, especially Darcy, during Elizabeth's visit had lent unease to the idea of entering his bedroom. As her husband would confess to her later, having her in his home and so near his bedchamber had nearly broken his will. For the four weeks prior, except for the occasion of their first kiss, Darcy had been the perfect gentleman. His desire for Lizzy had been rigidly controlled and aside from his eyes, which hid nothing, Lizzy had not fully recognized the struggle he daily and hourly fought.

Now, as Lizzy walked through the house she remembered those incidents with a smile. On their first night in Town, Darcy had hosted them all for dinner. With only time for a short tour to the main rooms, they had retired to the dining room for dinner then after to the parlor. Lizzy had delighted in noting Darcy's relaxation and high humor throughout the evening. She well understood how difficult it was for him to spend day after day at Longbourn with the press of visitors and family augmented by her mother's shrill voice and incessant chatter, which is the primary reason she had requested her father chaperone his daughters. Her heart ached at her fiancé's discomfort, and it was with massive relief that she witnessed his contentment now. Therefore, when she observed Darcy's back as he unobtrusively exited the room, she frowned and did not hesitate. With a quick look around, she slipped out the door to follow. She found him on the small terrace, standing perfectly still as he gazed into the sky. With a smile, she paused on the threshold to admire him; the faint porch light glistening on his hair, long legs and broad shoulders so elegantly displayed by the fine clothing and straight posture, and the calmly authoritative stateliness he exuded.

“William?”

He turned to her with a wistful smile on his face. “Elizabeth,” he whispered, “I was dreaming about you and here you are, as if conjured.”

She laughed softly, taking several steps closer to him. “Not quite that magical I am afraid. I saw you leave the parlor and wanted to make sure you were well and,” she hesitated, blushing slightly, “I wished to be alone with you,” she finished in a small voice, glancing away.

He closed the gap between them and lightly touched her cheek with his fingertips. “Then it is magic, for I wished the same and here you are.” His voice was low and husky. Their eyes met and it was magic: the magic of mutual desire and love. Instantly, they were both transported to the day of his proposal and first kiss in Longbourn's garden. Since that day, they had maintained the proper decorum and distance as promised, the kisses and touches shared brief and chaste with nary a hint of their longing that bubbled under the surface. For Lizzy, that morning had taken on a dreamlike quality and she had almost convinced herself that the passion which had flared was not as strong or as real as it had seemed. Darcy, naturally, had relived each touch and sensation unrelentingly, especially in his dreams where the emotions and urgency had taken on a life of their own, and it was only his maturity and inordinate self-mastery that contained him during the daylight hours.

Here, in the feeble moonlight, all regulation faded and he kissed her as he had yearned to do every moment of every day for over a year. He cupped her face and began with tasting her lush lips gently but thoroughly, the tenderness lasting the span of several heartbeats before ardency flared. Elizabeth circled his waist under the open jacket, hands flattening on his back as she pressed into his heated body and the kiss. With a throaty groan, he insistently parted her lips, exploring rapturously, and kissing hungrily. It was only five minutes of blinding ecstasy before they were jerked to reality by Mr. Bennet's voice calling his daughter's name. Darcy recoiled, melting into the shadows by the wall, guiltily forced to abandon Lizzy to salvage her reputation, which she did with surprising aplomb, while he was left shaken and shockingly aroused for quite some time.

The next afternoon, the Bennets and Gardiners had again been invited to Darcy House to dine, arriving earlier as Darcy had specifically requested the time to acquaint Lizzy with one of her future homes. Mr. Bennet had trailed along for most of the tour before becoming waylaid in the library. Darcy and Lizzy had not spoken of the previous night's interlude; in fact, they had not seen each other all day, and now the interwoven wall of embarrassment and seething heat effectively rendered them distracted, mute, and nervous. It was an odd and uncomfortable situation, the two of them having previously reached a place of blooming freedom and communication. As the tour proceeded with Darcy droning on and on about inane topics in a desperate effort to fill the silent void, Lizzy's discomfiture turned to irritation.

Her frustration boiled over quite by accident. They were in his mother's chambers, Mr. Bennet having been forgotten. Darcy fidgeted, fingers flicking unremittingly and white-knuckling the now wrinkled edge of his jacket, as he stammered something about redecorating from his ramrod post by the wash basin. Lizzy wandered inattentively about the room, barely listening to a word he said nor noting a single feature, suddenly catching her foot on the curled up edge of a rug. She stumbled ungracefully and would have fallen, but Darcy was there in an instant, grasping her arm so that she fell against his chest instead.

Time stopped.

She could feel his radiant heat, harsh respirations, and wildly beating heart; his close proximity affected her as greatly. Before she could even contemplate moving, he had buried his face into the curls atop her head, breathing deeply and hoarsely murmuring her name. She tilted her face upwards, and in a flash, he claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss lacking all restraint. She was paralyzed only for a fraction of a second before responding in kind, arms rapidly circling his shoulders and fingers laced through silky hair. They were delirious. Strong, probing hands moved all over her back, down over her hips then up to her waist, halting for a exquisite interval of gentle squeezes, before traveling further to just under her arms. He held her tightly, the kiss absorbing and fierce, concurrently pulling her greedily into his body while tracing thumbs lightly over the swell of her breasts.

Lizzy gasped in enraptured astonishment, sending a bolt of appalled horror through Darcy. He released her so abruptly she nearly fell. Pivoting with a strangled cry, he lunged to the nearest window, leaning onto the sill with hands balled into fists of steel, whole body trembling alarmingly.

Lizzy swayed, her mind in chaos. He spoke suddenly, voice harsh and tremulous, “Elizabeth, you need to leave this room now! Please!”

She stepped to the open door in hypnotic compliance but could not make herself leave. Time stretched and at least ten minutes passed with both of them breathing erratically and emotions in pandemonium. Unexpectedly, Lizzy discovered she was filled with anger. She shut the door firmly and walked to where he stood hunched at the window.

“No, William, I will not leave. Tell me truthfully; am I to conclude that our mutual love and desire are emotions to be disdained and ashamed of? Is this contempt and repugnance to continue after we are wed? Or is it that you honestly reckon you are such an uncontainable beast that you would hurt or defile the woman you love? Or do you have so little faith in my own self-control and decorum that you assume I would willingly allow you to ravage me like a bought woman?”