Sharon Lathan - The Trouble with Mr. Darcy

It was late when he entered their first floor bedchamber. He opened the door from his dressing room slowly, sure that Elizabeth would be fast asleep. But, to his immediate delight and swelling desire, she was not abed but out in the garden somewhere as the patio doors were widely gaping. He found her sitting on the smoothed stones topping the short wall that surrounded the private courtyard outside their bedchamber. She was gazing at the stars visible through the waving branches of the elm that shaded the terrace but turned at his silent entry. She smiled, nestling happily into the ready embrace he offered as he sat onto the ledge beside her.

“I never can sneak up on you,” he spoke into her hair, voice vibrant with love and humor, “no matter how stealthy I try to be.”

Lizzy laughed, squeezing his arms and lacing fingers between his where they rested on her abdomen. She rotated the gold band that resided on his left hand, the unblemished metal a constant reminder of his unwavering commitment and love. “It is not a negative commentary to your stalking skills, my love. Rather, a testament to our bonding as I am always aware when you are near. My heart feels your every heartbeat and my soul hears your every breath,” she said in a lilting cadence with latent laughter.

“Now who is the poet? Abounding in romantic emotion tonight, my lover? Anything I can do to assist you in your sentimental attitude?” He accented his whispered question with several well-placed kisses to her neck.

“It was a poor attempt, albeit the truth, and meant as a hint for you to recite poetry of your own.”

He chuckled that singular rich tone of pleasure released against the skin at the bend of her shoulder that sent shivers of excitement cascading down her spine, settling into a private zone deep within her belly that only he could reach. He held her firmly against his chest, heart powerfully beating a soothing rhythm, heat infusing her skin through the thin layers of fabric that separated their flesh, arms sturdy but muscles relaxed as they surrounded her lithe form. His hands were motionless where they clasped hers and lips gentle as they wandered leisurely.

Largely it was indefinable, but Lizzy sensed in every touch and breath from her beloved that he was restored to the man of power and confidence that she had married.

Fitzwilliam Darcy was a curious dichotomy. At once a man of superior intellect and sharp decisiveness who met and resolved the challenges that came his way with barely a blink, while also being a man who required constancy and formula in his life, abhorring any upset to the careful balance he craved. When the two collided, his internal poise was shaken even as he dealt with the crisis head-on. Only one extremely close to him, and that primarily was his wife, ever perceived the struggle waging inside. When the waters calmed and that yearned for composure was once again attained, she knew it.

Her voice was dulcet, barely audible when she spoke. “You have satisfied your worries? Do you feel peace in the situation?”

“I would likely be happier at Pemberley, but, yes, I am at peace. You know how I despise being out of my routine, Elizabeth. It has forever been a fault of my character. Father laughed at me constantly, wondering how I could so enjoy traveling when it annoyed me to be in unfamiliar environs with strangers.” He laughed, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it. “I cannot explain it and am aware of the absurdity, but no matter how I delighted in journeys to foreign lands or learning new customs and ancient history, my muscles did not unwind until breathing the air of Derbyshire and laying eyes on Pemberley’s pinnacles.”

He turned her body gently, hands smoothing over the softness of her cheeks, and eyes soft in the moonlight as he gazed upon her face. “There are many questions to be answered and we will remain cautious. But right now I am in my second favorite abode on this earth, my children and sister are asleep in the rooms above us, and I am holding the woman I love more than my own life in my arms. The stars are sparkling, the moon is glowing, the pure fragrance of lilac and cut grass is deliciously invading my nostrils, and the lulling music of bubbling water falling over rocks fills the air. Furthermore, after kissing you, my lovely, precious Elizabeth, until you are pliant and breathless with desire I know I shall make love with you until we are utterly satiated. How could I not feel peace in such an atmosphere?”

“Now who is the poet, Fitzwilliam?”

“I shall recite the masters for you, darling, if that is your wish, but I prefer to express the poetry of love with my mouth and hands upon your skin.”

“My goodness, both a poet and a wit! How marvelously blessed I am.”

“Indeed,” he growled, pulling her onto his lap, hands searching relentlessly under her raised skirt. “As much as I would like to love you here in the moonlight, alas this place does not afford us the privacy of our balcony at home. Come, Mrs. Darcy, we can discuss poetry on our bed.”

And amid her tinkling laughter he rose with her clutched in his arms, striding purposefully into the candlelit chamber attached and proceeding to fulfill his vow until they were undeniably and utterly satiated.

“Have you noticed how prolific and colorful the narcissus this year?”

Lizzy glanced over at her sister-in-law where she stood next to the window facing the broad, cobbled avenue of Grosvenor Square. “In truth I had not peered out the front windows this morning. I did note the buttercups on our bedchamber’s terrace. I adore spring blooms.” She paused, laying her embroidery aside to gaze contemplatively at Georgiana. “Tell me truthfully, dear sister. Are you deeply enthralled with the beauty of the Square or searching the corners for the mail carrier?”

Georgiana turned from the window and returned to her seat across from Lizzy. “Can both be true?” she asked, the hint of a blush touching her cheeks. She settled her secretaire onto her lap, dipping her quill into the embedded inkpot but then pausing above the parchment music sheet spread upon the surface. “Only a week has passed, yet it feels an eternity. This is the negative to love, I suppose?”

“The poets declare the absence shall foster fondness within the heart, as in Mr. Bayly’s Isle of Beauty. True to a degree, as a separation does cause one to dwell upon their lover with longing leading to an increasingly emotional reunion. Nevertheless, I abhor William being away from me for any length and firmly believe our relationship grows stronger with constant communion.”

“How marvelous that will be,” Georgiana said, her eyes dreamy. “I greatly desire to begin our life together.”

“Very soon you will. Did he promise to write you?”

“Yes. Uncle granted permission. Of course, it has not been long since we parted so my expectations are unfair.”

“He knew when Kitty’s wedding was to be and thus your return to London. A man in love marks these dates upon his heart. My guess is a letter at the least, and very soon.”

Georgiana sighed, and then chuckled as she shook her head. Her eyes were sparkling with humor when she met Lizzy’s gaze. “I am rather pathetic, am I not? I was fine while diverted in Hertfordshire, yet here it is a day later and I am moping as a lost puppy. I cannot focus enough to complete this sonata I started on the voyage across the Channel!”

“Missing your collaborator?” Lizzy asked with a lift to her brow.

“I believe it is more that I miss my friend, who also happens to be the man I love and an excellent musical collaborator.”

“Your own personal muse?”

“A male muse?” Georgiana laughed. “Yes, I suppose he is to a degree. Oh, Lizzy! I cannot wait for you and William to know Mr. Butler completely. He is warm and delightfully humorous. A valued friend and companion. I do miss him.”

“I am sure Mr. Butler is of a like mind and will hasten his return to you.”

Georgiana nodded, frowning slightly as she peered at the notes. “Yes, I have faith that this is true. I must be patient. Staffordshire is a distance not easily traversed for a seven-day visit or a letter. Besides, he did propose celebrating Easter with his family before returning, so surely it will be a fortnight at the least. I know how he missed home and his friends. He is undoubtedly immersed in entertainments and familial concourse.”

Lizzy cocked her head, brows knitted. “What are you not telling me, Georgie?”

Georgiana looked up in surprise and then flushed. “Oh, nothing really! I fear I am a silly, imaginative girl at times, Lizzy. Pay me no heed.”

“Nonsense! And I shall pay heed to your moods. You have a concern, clearly, and I am here to commiserate. Do you doubt Mr. Butler in some manner?”

“No, oh no, not in the slightest!” Georgiana put the secretaire aside and scooted to the sofa’s edge to reach Lizzy’s hand. “It is just”—she waved her other hand in the air, biting her lip before continuing in a halting voice—“vague feelings regarding Lord Essenton.”

“Mr. Butler’s father? In what way?”

Georgiana shrugged. “He is a stern man, Lizzy. I sensed this before Sebastian told me of their relationship. He is rather frightening, if you must know, with a disapproving air. You know how Lord Essenton feels about Sebastian’s musical studies and his, in Lord Essenton’s opinion, pointless rambles across Europe. I fear he will see our engagement as another whimsy.”

“Surely not. Taking a bride is a serious commitment. Certainly Lord Essenton will interpret Mr. Butler’s decision as a positive sign for his future settling at Whistlenell Hall?”