Chapter IX

Elizabeth was still in bed and halfway through her breakfast when her bedroom door entered and her husband entered – red eyed and pale, but upright and smiling.

"Good morning wife," he said, going to sit beside her on the bed. "I missed you last night."

After Fitzwilliam had left the previous night it had taken a great deal of effort to get him into bed while he mumbled nonsensically – her name came up several times, along with Fitzwilliam's, and something about laughter. When the manservant had finally tipped him onto the bed in their shared bedroom the thought of joining him had been entirely unappealing and she retired to her own, rarely used, Lady's quarters.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked.

"Much. I am sorry to have distressed you."

"You didn't distress me. You may want to apologize to the Colonel, however," she said. Darcy winced. He had hoped that some of what he remembered the previous night had not actually taken place.

"I shall."

Darcy looked at his wife for another moment, half wishing she would chastise him for staying out late and coming home intoxicated. He reached out to finger the end of the braid hanging over her shoulder. In her white nightgown, with sleep in her eyes she looked younger and more like the girl he had become consumed with.

"You know that it is my wish – my only wish – that you be the happiest woman alive?" he asked her. Her gaze hardened slightly, and she looked wary.

"You have made me very happy. You brought me here, you put me in the highest possible station. I only hope to never disappoint you," she said.

"You have never – could never – disappoint me," he said firmly. He stood. "Now. Spend the day with me. We can go riding."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Georgiana and I were to go visiting this morning, and you know my riding skills to be far inferior to your own. Go riding with Fitz."

"Walking. We will go walking and Fitzwilliam will perhaps stay home today. Georgiana can go calling by herself. We need to get that girl married. Are there any suitable prospects that she appears to fancy in the least?" he wondered. At eighteen, Georgiana was not yet a spinster but was rather old to be so without prospects. He resolved to encourage her to interest herself less in the pianoforte and the improvement of her sister – in – law and more in the young men of the neighbourhood.

"We will go walking," she agreed. "Did it not rain last night? I can hardly return with three inches of mud on the hem of my dress."

He walked toward the door, feeling rather jubilant. "This is your home, Elizabeth, and if you wish it you may return with six inches of mud on the hem of your dress. However if that not your wish to I shall carry you over any puddles and if Georgiana wishes to remonstrate you she will have to go through me."

"Mr. Darcy, really. What would the neighbours think?" she asked teasingly. He doubled back and leaned over her to kiss her lightly on the lips.

"If they are sensible neighbours, they will think that I am a very lucky man. Now get ready and put on your most sensible gown. Do you still own sensible gowns?" He smiled to himself as he left her bedroom.

Feeling something like jubilant, and entirely ignoring the slight ache in his head, he walked downstairs to where Georgiana was waiting.

"I'm taking my wife out for a walk. She tells me you have something planned, would you be so kind as to excuse her?" he asked.

"Are you quite well? You weren't home for dinner and Elizabeth was still waiting up for you when I went to bed," she asked. He smiled fondly at her.

"I went to town. I should not have made you worry," he said.

"Was it because of Fitzwilliam?" she asked. At his silence she rushed forward. "He didn't spend so much time with us here before you and Elizabeth were wed. I thought..."

She trailed off when she saw Elizabeth descending the stairs wearing a gown she had owned before her marriage, her hair in a simple knot at the nape of her neck.

"Lizzy. Georgiana was just departing," he said firmly. He kissed his sister firmly on the forehead. She looked curiously between them and walked out to her awaiting carriage.

Darcy linked arms with his wife and steered her away from the house, to a wooded area that quickly engulfed them.

"Where were you last night?" she asked abruptly. He looked down at her.

"You may remonstrate me, if you wish. I understood it to be a wifely duty," he said.

"I have no wish to remonstrate you. I stayed up waiting for you and you needed a great deal of assistance to get in to bed. Do you remember?" she asked.

"I went to town. I apologize. Fitzwilliam did me a service in coming to fetch me and I was quite rude to him. Thank you for staying up."

A part of Elizabeth wished to probe further on what he and Fitzwilliam had discussed, but a larger part of her did not.

He stopped at the banks of a small lake enclosed in the wood.

"I returned home and you weren't there. It made me think, there was a time that my greatest fear was that I would never win you. That I would only ever return to a home without you. That, God forbid, you would meet another man and he would take you away from me."

Elizabeth's hand had dropped from his elbow. She was standing before him. She seemed to him particularly small and vulnerable, far more so than before he had married her. He recalled that even then she had been the shortest of her sisters, but somehow she seemed smaller now. He did that, he reminded himself.

"And now? What is your greatest fear now?" her tone was teasing and it was not. He took her hand and pressed a kiss on her palm.

That you have never and will never care for me as I care for you. That you only married me for saving your sister. That I will never touch that part of you that you will not let me touch.

He stripped off his overcoat and the finely spun linen shirt he wore while she stared at him with serious eyes. He stepped out of his leather boots and thew down his hat beside them. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Mr. Darcy..?" he shook his head impatiently at her. He turned her around and with deft fingers undid the row of buttons running down her back. The sensible gown he requested fell to the ground. The corset he wore ran only from her hips to just under her bust and took less time than the buttons.

"Someone might..." she attempted to speak again.

"This is your home, Elizabeth. You may wear and behave however you will."

She watched, incredulous as he dove into the clear water, his long form leaving ripples behind him. He surfaced several seconds later and swam several strokes away before turning back to her.

"What are you doing?" she called. She was laughing now.

"I am enjoying a sunny day with my wife. Join me," he said. She waded uncertainly toward him until her now bare feet were submerged in the mud.

"I can't swim," she said uncertainly.

"Ah. I suppose you wouldn't. Even the illustrious Mrs. Bennett would have been too diligent to allow her maiden daughters such excursions." He swam back toward her and stood closer to the bank. The water dropped off quickly after the bank but he found his footing and stood with his head and shoulders out of the water. He held out his arms to his wife.

"Jump. I'll catch you," he promised. She wavered.

"You won't. I'll drown."

"I could hardly return to Pemberley without you, and impart news of your watery demise to your sister and mine. They would have my head. I would have to run away to the continent and Georgiana would need to demand rent from the tenants and all hell would break loose. Jump."

She glanced uncertainly about her and once convinced they were alone, bent her knees and leaped toward him. Her weight unbalanced him for a moment. He stepped backwards to steady himself, carefully holding her above water as he did so.

"There. Not so bad, is it?" he asked. She smiled. Her hair had uncoiled and was now lying wetly down her shoulders. He repositioned her until their faces met at the same level, and her legs wound around him instinctively.

"If anyone sees, Georgiana will never forgive us. We will need to run away to the continent together, and to hell with the tenants," she declared. He wound a hand in her wet curls, pulled her face toward his and kissed her. Under her fine cotton shift he could see the clear outline of her breasts, more clearly than he often did under candlelight. He ran a finger over her nipple and hardened at once when she moaned in to his mouth.

The far off sound of hoof beats returned her to Earth. She pulled away from him and studied his dark eyes, wide and wet with longing.

"I am indecent. Take me home," she commanded teasingly. Holding her tightly to him he walked toward the bank, stepping several inches in to silt at every step. He placed her on the shore before heaving himself up. The legs of his trousers, he noted with amusement, were coated more than three inches with mud. He watched as she wrung water from her hair and began to braid it before winding it back into a knot at the nape of her neck. He helped her back into her corset, petticoat and dress before slipping back into his shirt and jacket.

Back in her clothing she looked slightly rumpled but presentable. They walked silently back toward the house with her. Darcy thought continually of her body responding to his in the lake, and mentally calculated how long it would be before he could coax her upstairs and in to their bed.

"Georgiana's back early," said Lizzy conversationally, as they came back in to view of the house. A simple black carriage had pulled up the driveway. Darcy frowned, not convinced. He grabbed his wife's hand and moved more quickly toward it.

The tall woman disembarking from the carriage was not Georgiana, and the carriage was not their own. Darcy looked sideways at his wife who looked flummoxed, and then comprehending, and then mildly horrified.

"Lizzy! What one Earth have you been up to? Did Mr. Wickham tell you I would be coming?" asked Lydia Wickham cheerfully, throwing one arm around her elder sister's neck and carefully balancing her child in the other.

"Wickham?" asked Darcy incredulously, flicking his glance between his wife and his sister – in – law. Elizabeth cleared her throat loudly as Lydia looked blankly at Darcy.

"Lydia, are you planning to stay?" she asked.

"Lord no. I know you like Pemberley, but it is rather dull, isn't it? Aren't you going to let us in?" Elizabeth looked down at her third niece, sleeping peacefully in her mother's arms. She nodded distractedly.

"Come in. We were just out walking, Jane is inside," said Lizzy. Lydia began to ascend the stairs, chatting animatedly as she went. Lizzy went to follow her sister but stopped as Darcy grabbed her elbow and pulled her back toward him.

"Elizabeth what is she talking about?" he asked in a low voice. She shook her elbow to detach herself from him.

"I will explain later. She's not staying. Please just let me handle her."

Darcy dropped his hand and watched her follow her sister up the stone steps.

Author's note: Okay I'm doing my best! Thank you for the reviews, follows and favourites. I've gotten a bit ahead (two chapters maybe?) which has always been my favourite way to write stories, gives me some breathing room. Until next time!