In the meantime, they spent nearly every waking moment together. Darcy cancelled all business affairs, other than the ones to do with the trip, and Lizzy postponed her scheduled shopping and afternoon appointments. The logical, sensible portion of their personalities knew they were being ridiculous. It had been inevitable that a separation of extended time would occur, and they recognized that it would likely happen numerous times over the long course of their marriage. In some far corner of their minds, they were embarrassed by and laughed at their panic and dismay, yet they could not halt the emotions. For Darcy it dredged up the terror of her accident, when she was mentally parted from him and he feared her death. Lizzy, strangely, found she relived the moment he had walked out the door of the inn in Lambton and she thought she had lost him forever.

The days were filled with the tension of expectation to the point that both of them actually found themselves privately longing for the day to arrive so that time could then hurry to when he returned. They made love numerous times over the two days with an unreasoning fear of detachment.

On the very morning he had broken the news to her, they made love again in her dressing room after breakfast. Lizzy kissed him and departed to her dressing room, not noting the sensual expression crossing his countenance. Several minutes later, while Marguerite was thankfully in the closet retrieving a gown, Darcy suddenly appeared in the doorway. This was not odd, but the clear suggestive gaze roaming over her body as she stood before her washbasin in only her chemise left no doubt it was not a casual visit. He dismissed Lizzy's maid curtly without turning about, this being unusual, but Marguerite did not flinch. He then rapidly crossed to where she stood, robe falling to the floor and revealing him to be fully aroused—a sight Marguerite would not have been able to ignore if she had taken even three more steps into the room.

“Elizabeth, I need you, please,” he said, as his mouth descended in a crushing kiss and he pinned her against the wall, fingers groping. It was sudden and unexpected, but her husband never failed to inflame her.

That evening while hosting a dinner party, their eyes linked from across the room and desire was immediately evident. Darcy nodded imperceptibly and slipped away, Lizzy following a few minutes later. Whether anyone noticed they never knew, nor did they care. Darcy stood in the darkened hall and without a word took her hand, leading her to the library and locking the door. They fell onto the comfortable sofa and wasted no time in their frenetic yearning, moans suppressed. The room was pitch black, but light was unnecessary.

Nighttime and morning liaisons were languid and relaxing, offering a sustaining and consuming rapture, more emotional and spiritual in nature than the chiefly physical trysts afforded. The afternoon of the day before his departure found them in the study, Darcy writing at his desk while Lizzy read on the already several times utilized sofa. Sensing his penetrating gaze, she glanced up into darkened eyes.

“Staring, Mr. Darcy?”

“Admiring, Mrs. Darcy,” he answered in a gravelly whisper. “Adoring, loving, wanting, craving.” He rose, gliding from the desk toward her. “Worshipping, desiring, cherishing.” He knelt and began lifting her skirts, never breaking away from her eyes. “Yearning, esteeming, caressing, tasting…” His mumbled huskiness was lost amid folded yards of fabric and tender flesh.

Lizzy groaned, “William, I so love you!”

Their last night together was spent quietly at home with Georgiana, Mary, and Kitty. Occasional playing of the pianoforte was interspersed with conversation and laughter. Despite the now looming departure, Darcy and Lizzy were in joyful moods, entertained by the silliness of the girls. Darcy contentedly sat beside his wife, who was embroidering a design of bunnies and bluebirds on what was to be a small pillow for the baby's crib. As they finally moved toward their perspective bedchambers, Darcy was stunned to have Mary approach him, Georgiana and Kitty solemnly behind her.

“Mr. Darcy,” she said with a small curtsey, “you must not fret over Lizzy. We shall care for her and keep her amused. I know she will miss you, as will we all, but no harm will befall her. We promise.”

Darcy was nearly unable to find his voice. Mary had probably spoken ten sentences to him in the past three weeks, and this was by far the longest! “Thank you, Miss Mary. I appreciate your vow and understand it comes from your heart. Thus, you have eased mine.” With a stately bow, he kissed her hand, bringing a deep flush to her cheeks, and then repeated the words and action with his sister and Kitty.

Lizzy barely slept, Darcy endlessly embracing and caressing and kissing all throughout the night. They made love again, Lizzy exhausted and sore as she had not been since their honeymoon. Still, it was a monumental effort to not burst into tears when he left. He graced her with a dazzling smile as he waved a final farewell, pretending with all the theatrics at his disposal to not be aching and ripping apart inside. Lizzy retired immediately to their chamber, stretching on the empty bed with his scent-filled pillow clutched to her chest and crying until lack of sleep and heartache overtook her.

She woke refreshed and determined to shake off any depression. Amelia and Jane arrived in the early afternoon, and along with the girls, they retired to the parlor to sew and visit. Harriet was expected to arrive any minute to augment the fun. Lizzy surprisingly discovered her sadness leaving in the delight of lively communion. Her humor was high, health whole, and the tiny flutters far inside a constant reminder of her bliss.

A knock at the door lead to the entry of the footman, Hobbes. He bowed, Lizzy fully anticipating him to announce Mrs. Vernor, when he said, “Madame, there is a visitor asking to see Mr. Darcy…”

Before he could finish, the door flew open with a bang into the wall and, with a flurry of swirling skirts, in breezed Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Chapter Eleven

Separation

The echoing thud from the door screamed loudly into the otherwise palpable stunned silence that descended. Hobbes was aghast at the visitor—a Lady, so she had stated—entering unannounced, and he honestly could not fathom how to react. Amelia did not know who the rude woman was, yet it was obvious by the universal expressions of shock and dismay that her company was not particularly welcomed.

Lady Catherine stood imperiously, well aware of the impact her arrival engendered. Her cool gaze swept the room with an utter lack of interest and supreme condescension, alighting lastly on Elizabeth.

Experiencing a rush of anger mingled with frantic consternation, Lizzy nonetheless recovered her wits first, standing and curtsying brusquely. “Lady Catherine. Mr. Darcy is away—”

“Mrs. Darcy,” she interrupted, snapping the name as if painful to articulate, “I have been informed that my nephew is unavailable. I wish to see him at once. Tell me where I can locate him.”

“My husband,” Lizzy emphasized, “is out of Town on business. Perhaps I…”

“Left you alone already, has he? When do you expect him to return?”

Lizzy was only angry now. Drawing up to her full height with a stiff spine, pinched brows, steely gaze, clenched jaw, and lifted chin, a pose of intimidation she had learned from her spouse, Lizzy turned to the paralyzed Hobbes. “Thank you, Hobbes. You may be excused.”

He started then bowed properly. “As you wish Madame. Ring if you require assistance.” With a piercing look to the “Lady,” he exited.

“Lady Catherine, accompany me to the study where we can speak privately.” She turned to the ladies. “Excuse me for a moment.” Without another word to Lady Catherine or a backward glance, she gracefully departed the room. Walking with stately dignity, Lizzy lead to Darcy's study. Initially unsure whether Lady Catherine was trailing, and unclear as to the proper handling if she refused, Lizzy breathed silent relief upon hearing the tap of heels. Her mind traveled to Darcy with a desperate wish for his commanding presence, but sadly it would be up to her to handle this situation.

Determined to make him proud, she stood behind her husband's immense desk, one hand resting possessively on the polished wood, and turned to face his aunt.

Lizzy opened her mouth to speak, but Lady Catherine burst forth with, “You dare to order me about in my nephew's house! It is fortunate I brought to the fore my breeding and manners—”

“Lady Catherine,” Lizzy interjected dispassionately, another Darcy maneuver, “I believe it best we do not discuss manners under the circumstances of your arrival in what is now my house as well as Mr. Darcy's. Mr. Darcy, as I previously informed, is away on business. He will return in a week. Perhaps I can assist you?”

Lady Catherine pursed her lips. “It seems, Mrs. Darcy, that surrounding you are perpetual rumors. Or is it that you delight in persuading my nephew to harbor secrets from his family?”

“I can assure you I do not persuade Mr. Darcy to do anything. He is master of his own life and choices. As for rumors, I regret that I am ignorant as to what you refer.”

Lady Catherine flared, gesturing to Elizabeth's midsection. “The rumor that you are with child! The potential Heir to Pemberley, assuming the Bennet stock is even capable of supplying males, and I must receive the news from my parson! This is unconscionable! Why did you feel the necessity to induce Mr. Darcy to confidences?”