“Mercy!” he pleaded breathlessly. “Now it is your turn to confess, Mrs. Darcy. Your first crush and kiss.”

“I am afraid you shall be hideously disappointed, my dear. I do not have a good story to tell. My first crush was when I was eighteen and I briefly imagined myself smitten with the butcher’s son, who was some five-and-twenty years old and did not even know I existed. My mild case of enchantment with the perfidious Mr. Wickham was next, and then you. Aside from my father and uncles, you are the first and only man ever to kiss me.”

Darcy smiled brightly and tenderly caressed her cheek. “You are mistaken, my Lizzy. I am not disappointed in your confession in the slightest.” He kissed her lightly. “I do not have to fear suffering by comparison.”

“Silly man! If you do not yet know what your kisses do to me, then I shall have to improve my manner of exhibiting my ecstasy and unfettered joy.” She roughly seized his mouth and fell back on the couch, taking him with her. Past crushes and kisses were forgotten in the rush of present passion and unparalleled love. She administered a long, drugged kiss, taunting his lips with her tongue and exploring the warm softness of his mouth thoroughly. Breath and moisture mingled as they savored the taste and feel of the other.

His coats were discarded somehow and her skirt lifted to the knees with his seeking hand, before he came to awareness. Pulling away with a struggle he said, “Do not move an inch, dearest.” Striding quickly, he drew the drapes and locked the doors, not that anyone would enter his study unannounced, except for her. This was not the first time she had surprised him in his sanctuary for a pleasant diversion from work. The couplings tended to be hurried and hushed in light of the location, but no less stupendous. In fact, for some strange reason, the necessity to remain quiet multiplied the pleasure.

She had not moved, watching his progress with hungry eyes. She reached up as he neared and stroked him, eliciting a groan and whispering, “Do my kisses suffer by comparison, my love?”

“Lord no, Elizabeth! There is no comparison to you.” He nestled over her on the narrow couch, reclaiming her mouth ardently. They loved, greedily absorbed in their desire for each other.

Afterwards they lay together for a long while, kissing tenderly and caressing. Lizzy kissed his noble nose, quietly inquiring, “Do you remember where you put the document you searched for?”

He laughed in sudden surprise. “Yes, I do! It is not even in that drawer but in the cabinet.”

She grinned pertly. “My diversion worked then! How happy I am to be of assistance to my husband.”

Luncheons were taken with Georgiana. Often it was the first time either of the older Darcys had spoken with her that day. Lizzy fretted somewhat at what she feared seemed like abandonment on their part. Darcy assured her that, other than breakfast, he and his sister had rarely seen each other in the morning hours anyway. He had explained to Georgiana that breakfast was an important time for him and his new wife. Nonetheless, Lizzy worried and therefore endeavored to pass as many afternoons as possible with her new sister.

In a matter of days, she realized that she genuinely enjoyed her time with Georgiana. Lizzy marveled at this. It was not that she had in even the slightest way disliked Georgiana; it was simply that she had imagined the gap in their ages would prevent them from becoming true friends. Lizzy was familiar with the foolishness and stupidity of her younger sisters and had erringly assumed Georgiana similar.

Georgiana was timid and shy, a typical Darcy trait taken to extremes by her, yet also intelligent, accomplished, and witty. She was very like her brother actually. Darcy hid his shyness behind a stern and forbidding demeanor, whereas Georgiana was blatantly blushing and anxious; however, they both harbored a dry humor, a keen intellect, and astonishing gentleness and empathy. Lizzy, as she had with her spouse, naturally used her gregarious character to break through Georgiana’s reserve. Darcy was elated at the change to his sister through Lizzy’s friendship.

Lizzy, on the other hand, flourished in her own way under Georgiana’s gentle personality. Both Darcys were inherently peaceful creatures, steady and unflappable. This serenity soothed Lizzy. At the same time, she found herself awestruck by the talent her sister wielded. She could play the pianoforte and harp brilliantly, painted, was extremely creative with paints, spoke three languages fluently, and had a firm grasp of history and literature. Lizzy spent hours on the piano with her, honing her own paltry skills under Georgiana’s patient instruction, and happily sat in quiet conversation while they sewed or played cards. Georgiana also loved the outdoors and walking.

Thus, the afternoons periodically found Lizzy and Darcy separated as he attended to business, projects about the estate, visited a nearby gentleman, went on a ride, or, more often, read alone in the library while Lizzy also visited her friends, spent time with Georgiana, took a walk, or volunteered at the orphanage. By mutual necessity their partings were as brief as possible. Despite individual pursuits, Lizzy and Darcy managed to secure a fair amount of time alone together.

By mid-April the snows had melted away from the combined effect of the inexhaustive rains and a mild warming in the temperature. The gardens were budding, the birds were slowly returning, and Lizzy was experiencing an acute period of waspishness and unease. For two weeks she woke every morning to the loving administrations of her husband, yet could not overcome her peevishness. She did not feel unwell, simply restless and constantly annoyed. Darcy, of course, sensed her angst and attempted to talk to her about it, but she snapped at him, highly unusual, so he let it go, surmising that it was mostly a result of the endless dreary weather and forced confinement.

The afternoon of April sixteenth brought all to a head and was the beginning of one of the worst weeks of Darcy’s long life.

Lizzy’s increasingly surly attitude was seriously disturbing Darcy, even to the point of not being able to comfort her during their lovemaking. Despite his improved intuitiveness and ability to communicate intimately, he was at a loss as to what was causing his wife’s distress. This pained him tremendously. He had considered the possibility that she might be with child as a cause. He was aware that she was late on her monthly cycle and had thoroughly searched the medical text for pregnancy symptoms, but nothing was said of irritation as a sign. Whatever the case, he determined to devote the evening after dinner to lovingly and patiently encouraging her to open up to him.

Lizzy, in the meantime, was privately also grievously disquieted with her persistent vexation, but she could not seem to control her emotions. That morning as her amazing, tender, sensual, and gorgeous husband had nuzzled her neck, stroked her body, and whispered his love and devotion, she had felt only irritation, and for the first time ever since their wedding night, she did not reach fulfillment. Later, when alone in her dressing room, she had broken into sobs that she could not halt. She, too, had wondered if she might be pregnant and had also perused the text. Unfortunately, if she was with child, it was far too early to be verified and she could not blame her mood on a possibility.

Darcy and his steward were secreted in his study all afternoon dealing with one of Darcy’s more complicated and sensitive investments with a German steel manufacturer. When his wife burst into the room unannounced, it was not a mere irritation but an astoundingly rude, deleterious interruption and a heinous breach of propriety.

“William,” she snapped, “what is the meaning of you ordering the stables not to allow me to take the curricle out today?

“Mr. Keith, will you please excuse us for a moment?”

Lizzy glared at her husband, realizing on some level that she was utterly wrong but not able to stop her fury. “Well?” she demanded once the door shut behind the steward.

“Mrs. Darcy, may I remind you that when I am in my study with my steward, I am not to be disturbed unless it is a matter of extreme import which,” he raised his deceptively serene tone mildly to halt her retort, “this most decidedly is not. However, as the damage has already been done, I will answer your misplaced and rude inquiry.” He paused and took a deep breath to calm his anger, his countenance dour. “The roads are washed out and muddy, and a storm is expected to arrive this afternoon. It is not safe for you to be out, alone or otherwise.”