Sorry, I needed to stop for a while to regroup. If you can't say something positive, could I at least ask you to reserve your scorn regarding the woeful characterisations or dreadful structure until the 'Complete' flag is set. Unconstructive criticism is very inhibitory to the creative process and the end of a long story is always the most difficult part—a bit like landing a jumbo jet.

Thanks to beaty, alix33 and Lee3619 for reporting several more typos, which should now be fixed.

Suggestions for title of Chapter 44 were:

"Foiled, Again" by Kaohing,

"Welcome to the Family" by FatPatricia515,

"Hoisted by Her Own Petard" by nanciellen,

"A contest for (bad) behaviour" by beaty,

"Unanticipated Blessing" "Precipitous Announcement" by DaRkRoYaLtY,

"Designs and Disappointments" by Lee3619,

Inspired by FatPatricia515's suggestion, I went for "A family affair".

Thank you to everyone who submitted titles to the chapter-naming competition. All winners went into a draw to win a Kindle version of one of my books (three to give away). The first numbers drawn were 38, 27, 11 & 44.

38 "The person from Porlock" by ilex-ferox

27 "Con brio" by ilex-ferox

11 "Happy Bearday" by Windchimed

44 "A family affair" by FatPatricia515

As you can see, the first two were by the same reviewer, which is why I drew a fourth. Congratulations to the winners. Expect an email from me, giving instructions on how to claim your prize.

Chapter 45

Darcy was dreaming he was playing with a cat. He was partly outside the dream, for he knew he did not own a cat, but he was having trouble reassuring himself this was the case. He opened one eye to discover his wife bent over him in bed, alternately pressing his nipple—as if it were a button—and poking the muscle of his chest. Her hair was loose, tumbled down her back, and very untidy. His heart thumped as he registered her bare breasts. A torrent of memories flooded into his mind, as wild and untamed as the most violent Derbyshire storm. Making love to Elizabeth had unleashed something within him that he barely knew he possessed—a passion so strong that it felt barely civilised. He had fought with himself for control, worried that he might hurt or scare her, but she had responded fearlessly to the occasion and met him halfway.

"What are you doing?" he asked blearily, but with some amusement.

"It's so similar, yet so different," Lizzy mused, stroking the hair on his chest. "And you seemed so determined to sleep," she smiled mischievously. "Mrs Flowers has brought our breakfast to the door, Fitzwilliam Alexander."

"Have I done something wrong to have my second name employed?" queried Darcy.

"Oh, no!" said Lizzy airily. "I was just trying it out—one of life's little mysteries solved, you know."

"I think I am not awake yet," murmured Darcy. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Your middle name was the subject of a least a week's speculation among the ladies of the Ton once you loaned your handkerchief to Miss Cleevely—two different peerages disagreed on the subject. Now the wedding ceremony has settled it for good. Thank heavens for that! Now let's eat."

"Hungry, are you?" asked Darcy, reaching out to stroke her bare shoulder before rising to his elbow to kiss her gently.

"Famished," replied Lizzy. "I could eat an ox."

Darcy could not resist grasping her in his arms and pushing her down onto the bed to kiss her more thoroughly. He could hardly believe she was finally his! His body had that delicious 'used' feeling to it, so often associated with sport, yet he was far from exhausted. He would have liked to make love to her yet again. But when her tummy rumbled, he released Elizabeth with a laugh. In deference to her hunger, Darcy restrained himself.

He watched with admiration as Elizabeth slipped naked from the bed and drew on his mother's golden banyan, which had been included in a package of presents from Georgiana. She had the lithe body of a naiad. This thought almost proved disastrous as the blood rushed to his nether regions, threatening to overcome him once more with lust. Darcy closed his eyes briefly to calm himself then got up quickly to pull on his own banyan, which had been tossed onto a chair beside the bed.

After he retrieved the tray from the hall, they sat down together at his writing table near the window to break their fast as the sun streamed into the room, stirring the dust motes. Their conversation was domestic and commonplace as she removed the covers from the plates and he poured the coffee. But after she had taken the edge off her hunger, Elizabeth sipped her coffee ruminatively and peeped at him over the brim of the cup, her dark eyes twinkling.

"Yes?" prompted Darcy, sensing she was on the verge of saying something outrageous.

"Well, that was an education!" she laughed.

He reached for her free hand. "I hope I didn't hurt you," he said quietly. "I tempered my feelings well enough in the beginning but fear I may have lost a little control later on."

"It only hurt at the start when you were at your most gentle," Lizzy reassured him, twisting her hand around to stroke the inside of his palm. Then, as if conquering her embarrassment, "Though I will take Jane to task for saying it hardly hurt at all! What a fib! Perhaps it is like having a baby—that what you get is so good that you forget about the pain."

Darcy bit his lip to hide a smile of gratification. "Your sister is a horse rider. Perhaps that lessened the pain for her."

"I thought that was an old wive's tale," mused Lizzy.

"I cannot say with any certainty, but I could feel the hymen, which was why I used my hand initially. I had heard it could be painful if it was still intact."

"Well, you were well informed!" remarked Lizzy. "Is that part of a gentleman's education at those bawdy houses?"

"No!" said Darcy pointedly, but not without amusement. What would she say next? "I don't expect many virgins reside there. My uncle gave me some advice."

"Oh, heavens!" laughed Lizzy. "Well, I would like to have been a fly on the wall when that occurred! Your uncle seems to be a man of... ahem...some experience."

"Yes," agreed Darcy ruefully. "Yet you also seemed well prepared?"

"Oh, yes!" said Lizzy airily. "I had no less than three sessions: first with my aunt Sempronia, when it was not clear that Mama would make it to London after all; then, with my mother and Aunt Gardiner when they did finally arrive; and lastly with Jane, to reconcile the wildly different versions of the likely occurrences."

Darcy raised his brows. "Dare I ask for the source of the discrepancy?" he said with mock trepidation.

"Well, my aunt Sempronia said you were likely a man of refined tastes and loaned me a book which was filled with the most extraordinary sketches of couples in exotic dress... or undress. My mother, on the other hand, said you were likely to be a man of few words; that I should be ready to submit for once and hold my tongue, and not to mind being pushed and poked about."

Darcy tried not to laugh, for he felt he was lucky that his bride had not run away as fast as she could before the ceremony. "And Jane?" prompted Darcy.

"Well, she thought my aunt's book was very interesting, but possibly best saved for later. As for mother's advice, Jane agreed there was a degree of pushing and poking but assured me it was of the most pleasant kind."

"Well, now I am going to have to agree with Bingley," said Darcy ruefully.

"On what?" asked Lizzy.

"He has married an angel." smirked Darcy.

They parted with a kiss so that Lizzy might return to her strange new room in the Darcy townhouse so that Madeleine might dress her. The chamber had all been very tastefully decorated in the French manner of yesteryear for Darcy's mother, Lady Anne. It felt a million miles from the cosy room Lizzy had shared with Jane at Longbourn. It was a little intimidating, a bit like occupying a room in a palace.

Darcy had, several years ago, removed to his father's former chamber on the third floor so that Georgie and her companion might have the second floor to themselves when the family was in town. He had adapted his father's chamber to his own needs but his mother's room next door had stayed untouched and dormant, waiting for a new mistress to inhabit it. That was why they had both opted to spend their first night together in Darcy's room. Lizzy had already ordered new curtains and hangings from a proprietor on Bond Street, recommended to her by her aunt Sempronia. They were to be in much the same colour palette as cousin Freddy's old room, which she felt would remind her of her time with her aunt and that short but interesting transition period before she really understood what was important in life—home and family. But it would be another week before they would arrive.

In a few days Elizabeth and Darcy would be off to spend a sennight in Hemel Hempstead, at a lodge belonging to one of Darcy's friends. The Ton seemed to have this little tradition of hosting each other during the honeymoon period, possibly to provide some privacy from gossiping family servants. The Darcys would then stay briefly again at Netherfield so that a proper celebration could be held at Longbourn for Lizzy's wedding.

Of course, Georgie's first reaction to the happy news had been to declare her wish for a double wedding. This suited neither Darcy's wish to be married as soon as possible nor his belief that Georgie needed to grow up a bit before heading to the altar. In the end, Lizzy suggestion that they could spend some time together as sisters changed Georgie's mind. After all, Lizzy had pointed out, if they got married simultaneously, they would just be changing positions like counterweights on a clock, with Georgie going to Mickleham House just as Lizzy left it.

Rather than going to her aunt at Richmond, Georgie had gone to stay with Jane at Netherfield during the honeymoon period. Lizzy had been gratified when they had become the best of friends in the short interim between Darcy's proposal and the wedding. She had felt that two people who she loved so much must naturally like each other, and so it had turned out to be.

Of course, Elizabeth's stay at Netherfield after Matty's birth had brought several revelations. Not only had Elizabeth glimpsed the joy of motherhood, she had realised that she could not continue to cling to Jane forever. They would always be close, but Bingley and her children would now always be Jane's dearest delight.

But having effectively lost her first forever friend by her marriage to Bingley, Lizzy felt she had found another in Fitzwilliam Darcy. He had seemed far from an ideal partner at first, but every day she knew him a little better, Lizzy grew in admiration for him—the man who strived to adapt himself to her. He was older and a little more set in his ways, so Lizzy knew she would likely have to breach more than half the gap. But he was willing to try, which was what seemed to make him different to most gentlemen of her acquaintance.

The wedding ceremony in London had gone off without a hitch despite several alarms. They had known beforehand that Mrs Bennet was not a good traveller. The plan had been to bring her from Longbourn in easy stages in Lizzy's well-sprung carriage. But when his wife had incessantly complained of her increasing aches and pains as the journey progressed, Mr Bennet had given up in frustration halfway and gone on to his sister's house in Piccadilly alone. He had left his wife moaning about her discomfort at the best inn at St Albans, tended by her youngest daughters, whose giggles of excitement had promptly turned to wails of disappointment upon discovering they were to be left behind. So Mrs Gardiner had gone back in Lizzy's carriage to try her hand at persuasion. The journey had been completed at a walking pace, no doubt to the coachman's immense frustration. But they arrived at Mickleham House in time to dress for the ceremony.

In an enormous hat, Fanny had presided over her second daughter's marriage by Special Licence at St George's Hanover Square. Darcy had had to admit that his mother-in-law was still no mean bit when she turned up at the church in her finery, devoid of the lace cap she usually wore. He had even been slightly alarmed when his uncle had cast an appreciative eye in her direction.

Mr Bennet had at first been disinclined to accompany his wife to town for the ceremony. Aside from his premonition of the travelling woes and general dislike of London, he had wanted Lizzy married from Longbourn like her sisters. But he had ceded to his wife's ambition on hearing that Darcy had high relatives in town who were expected to attend. So he came to give his daughter away, completely oblivious to his wife's toilette. But Mr Bennet did noticed the earl's distraction and directed a baleful stare at him for his presumption.

The wedding breakfast had been held at Mickleham House, with Lady Mickleham presiding over a sumptuous feast worthy of the occasion. After ten years of pointedly ignoring each other, Lord and Lady Matlock had even been in the same room together, though at opposite corners. Darcy was only grateful they had preserved their detente for the duration of his wedding, for their feud had erupted again in the front steps as they departed. Aside from that little contretemps, it had all gone off very well.

Lizzy and Darcy met again over afternoon tea. She had spent her day opening presents and writing thank-you notes while he had gone off to the City to finalise some business there. The time Darcy spent in London every year was always fairly busy—checking on investments and assessing new ones, but it had become positively hectic in the lead-up to the wedding when a protracted absence was being planned for the honeymoon—several weeks of business had had to be conducted in as many days. And there had been the dowry and the settlements to arrange with the trustees—as hardheaded a group of Cits as Darcy had ever encountered. They had accepted his proposal for the settlements on his demise without much argument, for they had been much the same as had been arranged for his mother who, predeceasing her husband, had never used them. But there had been much resistance to Darcy's proposal to settle Lizzy's dowry on a second son or his sisters. The ink had only just dried on the final amendments.

"Did all go well?" Lizzy asked as Darcy came into the saloon.

"Your trustees are as stubborn as mules!" he exclaimed.

"I told you that you would offend their sense of propriety by not accepting the dowry directly. They are a very old-fashioned lot!" she smiled.

"Your money is in good hands," assured Darcy with grim irony. "I'm sure they could spend all day worrying about the last penny."

Lizzy just laughed and poured the tea. "Well, I am about half-way through writing the thank you notes. Your aunt and uncle gave us the most delightful Sèvres tea set—pardon me, 'théière et sucriére et..."

"I get the picture," interrupted Darcy, used to his aunt's need to remind everyone she had dwelt at the French court. "You mean my aunt gave it to us. I'm not sure that my uncle has ever gone near a théière. Is it the set with the onion flower on top? That was always my favourite as a boy."

"Ah, yes! I believe so," said Lizzy gesturing towards the gift on a nearby table and reaching out to retrieve Darcy's aunt's note from her 'answered' pile. "She says:

"Dear Elizabeth, ... da da da ... It was made at the manufactury during the late queen's 'Trianon'* phase and should suit your rustic aesthetics admirably."

Darcy closed his eyes briefly and sighed. They had taken with his aunt once at Richmond during their betrothal period. Though his aunt had been polite to Elizabeth, Lady Matlock had made several private remarks to him on her surprise at Elizabeth's lack of breeding.

"Please accept my apologies," Darcy offered, touching Lizzy's cheek. "Being a member of the peerage, my aunt still clings voraciously to an outdated set of values. She once snubbed Bingley quite outrageously under my own roof."

"Now don't go petting me again," teased Lizzy. "Or we may not get round to drinking this tea."

"Why don't we forget about the tea?" asked Darcy, who had been having difficulty excluding the events of last night from his thoughts all morning.

"What, here?" asked Elizabeth. "Is that possible?"

"I was thinking of that settee over there," said Darcy suggestively.

"I'm willing," said Lizzy, picking up one of the little biscuits that Mrs Flowers had baked and biting off a corner.

Darcy made it to the door in several long strides and swiftly locked it before seating himself on the settee. Lizzy hung back, nibbling on her biscuit, unsure what level of undress was required for congress downstairs—definitely not something maternal advice had prepared her for. But Darcy had merely undone the front of his breeches, the effect of which could be likened to a jack-in-the-box. Lizzy could immediately see the possibilities and quickly straddled him.

"Oh!" he said, fluttering his eyelashes as he slipped his hand under her gown and along her bare thigh to guide her down upon him. "I've been thinking of you all day!" he exhaled.

"Hmm," said Lizzy, giving a test bounce on her knees to meet the last inch. "Clearly, likewise. That was rather easy!"

She rode him with spirit for a good five minutes as the hook inside her belly stabbed until it floundered like a landed fish.

Finally he shuddered and clasped her to his chest. "Oh my goodness!" he gasped, completely out of breath from thrusting upwards against her weight.

Lizzy sighed and nibbled on his ear, causing Darcy to gasp and groan again—anything seemed to set him off after he was sated.

Then she looked about her to see the settee had walked a good three inches across a rug and was on the verge of knocking over a small table. "Do you think the furniture will stand much more of this treatment?" she giggled.

"If it breaks I shall buy you another," he solemnly replied.

The End

Stay tuned for the epilogue, which I will likely post in conjunction with the publication of one of my stories. Let me know what you would like me to include.

As for now, I intend to proof another of my finished ff stories. I'm currently not sure which of my other plot ideas to take forward. I thought Go Down Red Roses would be a lot more popular than it is, and as for Cinder Lizzy, I just wrote it as a piece of fluff and it has turned out to be more favourited than any of my other stories!

Currently, I have two ideas, one is a time-travel story called Quantum Entanglement. The other is a Medieval version called Blood and Iron. I'll post the stubs of both in the next few weeks and take the one readers are most interested in forward.

Footnotes

Trianon—The Hameau de la Reine (The Queen's Hamlet) is a rustic retreat built to Marie Antoinette's order at the Petit Trianon. The buildings included a farmhouse, (the farm was to produce milk and eggs for the queen), a dairy, a dovecote, a boudoir, a barn and a mill.