Lizzy woke on the day she expected her husband's return with an instantly joyous grin. Her heart fluttered rapidly, matching the rhythm set by their tiny passenger in her womb. She did not anticipate his arrival until late, but simply imagining him on his horse and heading her way filled her soul with a rapturous bliss. Her own need for him in all the various ways their love manifested was consuming her. She, too, had slept poorly all week, and the unrelenting emptiness in her heart was wearing on her. Luckily, the baby's demanding appetite prevented her not eating well and the muscle spasms had ceased, so physically she was strong. All morning she walked about with a ridiculous grin and her feet barely touching the floor. When Darcy's hastily dictated note arrived, Lizzy burst into tears and fled to her room, collapsing in a puddle of dejected misery on their bed. She was inconsolable. The only positive was that her depression precipitated a deep, much needed sleep.

Darcy's journey was tortuous. His pain was severe, a massive bruise spreading over the entire left chest and shoulder, and the decreased sensation to his left arm slow to resolve. Gripping the reins was problematic, and he was incredibly fatigued. By mid-afternoon he was in a haze of suffering, unsure whether it was his physical or emotional pain that vied for supremacy. At the inn, he choked down a hasty dinner then fell into an exhaustive, nearly comatose sleep for close to ten hours.

At four in the morning he woke lying in the exact position, stiff but rejuvenated. The pain had dimmed to a dull ache with the feeling predominately restored to his arm. An hour later, the sun a faint smudge of brightness on the horizon, he was washed and dressed. He hurriedly scribbled a note that he slipped under Gerald's door, and roused the stable boy to saddle his horse. Some four hours later he turned onto Grosvenor Square, windblown, dusty, saddle-sore, and aching, yet jubilant. Never in all his life had the shining white bricks of Darcy House filled him with such exultation. He rather prayed his wife was yet abed, but any room would suffice as long as he was embracing her. With a skip to his step, he mounted the front stairs.

Chapter Twelve

Reunion

The foyer was empty. The soft tinkling of piano keys and laughter sailed on the air from the music room. Wincing slightly, Darcy carefully removed his overcoat and the moist, grimy cravat as a footman rounded the corner, halting in surprise at the sight of his Master.

“Mr. Darcy! We did not expect you until this afternoon.”

“No apology is necessary, Peters. Is Mrs. Darcy in our chambers?”

“No sir. She is yet in the garden, I believe.”

“Thank you.” Thrusting his garments into the servant's hands, he strode rapidly down the hall to the rear of the house with heart pounding and grin spreading. Elizabeth stood amongst a plot of lilacs taller than she was, snipping fragrant blooms with her new shears to join the array of colorful flowers already lying in her new basket. Darcy paused on the threshold, the ache to envelop his wife momentarily offset by the vision she unwittingly presented. She wore a thin, simple-muslin morning gown of pale lavender, hair unbound with only the sides unevenly secured with a loose tie in back. The sun shone brightly, highlighting the multiple hues in her hair and accenting the flush on her cheeks. She was smiling slightly as she smelled the lilacs, and he thought he detected a faint humming.

Smiling even broader, Darcy stepped out of the shadows onto the stone patio. The movement caught Lizzy's attention and she turned. Her eyes widened, the foremost thought being that she was hallucinating. It had required colossal effort on her part and loving persuasion from her sisters to revive her spirits last night. The restful sleep had aided her tremendously as well. Finally, she had attained a state of calm acceptance, willing herself to be strong as she grudgingly bowed to the inevitable wait of one more day. She had no idea where they would stop for the night, since it all apparently depended on the Duke's condition, but had not expected Darcy's homecoming until after luncheon at the soonest.

It was the sound of boot heels striking the stone that convinced her of his reality. With a strangled cry, she tossed the basket and shears onto the turf and raced into his outstretched arms. Darcy felt the impact of her slender frame with a combined grimace and shock through his left side but primarily with a rush of astounding joy and completion. He clutched her tightly, spinning about with a merry laugh while she rained kisses all over his face.

“William! I cannot believe you are here! Oh, how I missed you! How I love you!” Her words tumbled over each other, interspersed with kisses, her fingers moving through his hair and over his exposed neck.

Darcy laughed and was eventually required to grasp her face in his hands to halt her jubilant enthusiasm. “Elizabeth,” he whispered with a gentle smile, slowly brushing over her mouth as he caressed her cheeks with his thumbs. Their eyes met, love evident and mingled with profound longing. “I love you,” he softly uttered, then his mouth descended, interrupting any reply with a firm, encompassing kiss that deepened rapidly. Bodies pressed harshly together, they kissed as if starved and the only nourishment available was in the breath and taste of the other. Darcy's lingering pain was erased in the rapture of embracing and kissing his delicious wife.

Neither of them had any cognizant awareness of where they were. Their mental states were so enamored with desire and bliss that it was entirely probable they were minutes away from falling to the ground in raging passion. Thankfully, perhaps, they were interrupted.

“William!” Georgiana's delighted squeal jolted them both to reality. Darcy turned to his sister as she rushed through the door, Mary and Kitty trailing. Weakly holding Lizzy with his left arm, he hugged his sister and kissed her cheek.

“Georgie, how are you, dearest? Miss Mary, Miss Kitty,” he said as he inclined his head. “It is a pleasure to see you both. I believe I am indebted to you for your excellent care of my wife in my absence. Name your desired reward, and I shall grant it.” Kitty giggled and Mary smiled serenely.

Lizzy slipped away from his side and he glanced over with alarm. He observed her slowly returning to the flowers strewn on the dirt. Georgiana was babbling in unrestrained joy, apparently intending to summarize the week's events in the next two minutes. Darcy attempted to listen to his sister and the occasional interjections from Mary and Kitty, responding appropriately while focusing on his wife. Both arms now ached with loss and he sensed a tension in her posture, or more aptly a hesitancy and mild trembling. She bent to retrieve the scattered flowers, hands frequently moving to her face, but he could not determine the cause as her back was to him.

Just as he took a step toward her, she rose and turned, smiling brightly but tears evident on her cheeks. He hastened to her, brushing the moisture away. “Beloved, are you well?”

Lizzy waved his concern away airily. “I am perfect, now, my darling. Simply overemotional these days. I cry at the drop of a hat, so be duly warned.” She laughed and smiled, tiptoeing to kiss his cheek while grasping his hand. She frowned, peering at his fingers. “Your hand is so cold and pale.” She raised the right to compare. “William, what is wrong with your hand?”

“It is of no moment, love. We shall discuss it later, I promise.”

Tears were gathering again. “William…” she whispered, but a footman appeared to announce breakfast. Darcy kissed her lightly and smiled.

“Excuse me, ladies, I must freshen up then shall join you in the dining room.” He turned to his wife. “I will not be long,” he began, but she was vehemently shaking her head.

“I am not tolerating you out of my sight! I can help you change and clean up.”

“The job will likely not be accomplished if you follow me into my dressing room,” he declared quietly in her ear with a grin.

Lizzy tossed her head as she clasped his arm and steered toward the door. “I will take my chances. Besides, meals have been known to wait around here without severe deficiency, Mr. Darcy. Martha,” she said, addressing a passing maid and ignoring her husband's chuckle, “please place these in the Master Chambers in several vases, and inform Samuel that Mr. Darcy has arrived.”

Samuel, however, was waiting for his Master with fresh water and supplies. Lizzy authoritatively sat Darcy on his stool and clinically began unbuttoning his coats. It was a struggle for Darcy to not reciprocate by attacking her garments, the nearness of her body frankly driving him mad and only Samuel's presence forestalling him. A jolt of pain when she unwittingly tugged his coats over his shoulder—eliciting an audible gasp and grimace as he instinctively grabbed her hand and jerked backward—replaced all romantic musings temporarily.

“Elizabeth, love, I have a confession,” he hoarsely stated, gingerly rubbing the throbbing shoulder and meeting her anxious eyes.

Never releasing his gaze, Lizzy said, “Samuel, please leave us. I will assist Mr. Darcy.” Once the door was closed she caressed his face, speaking softly, “You are hurt. Tell me what happened.”

“I did not wish to distress you further, beloved. Please forgive me for not being forthright. It occurred when the Duke was foolishly attempting to ride Athena. You remember which one she is?” Lizzy nodded, working to carefully extradite him from his clothes. “Well, he was thrown, as I wrote, but I did not include the fact that I was in the corral as well trying to control her.” He flinched and inhaled with a hiss as the waistcoat was pulled away. Lizzy gently elevated his left arm as she lifted his shirt. He groaned, then continued through grit teeth. “Athena did not appreciate her treatment, so she wrenched my arm and lashed out forcefully, as you can now discern for yourself,” he finished in a lame whisper.

A red impression of a horse's hoof in flawless detail graced his upper left chest, surrounded by colorful blotches from sternum to nipple to axilla to shoulder blade. His left arm was noticeably paler and grasp weaker, although the tactility was thankfully normal. Tears were coursing down Lizzy's face as she tenderly palpated the area. Darcy brushed her cheeks. “Do not cry, beloved, it is merely a bruise and muscle strain. Trust me when I say I have suffered much worse. The physician examined me thoroughly. There are no broken bones, the skin intact, and the sensitivity is returning. Please do not fret, Elizabeth.”

“You should be resting, not on a horse for two days.” She sobbed, leaning in to plant soft kisses along the contused flesh.

Darcy again inhaled sharply, but not from pain. His hands encircled her hips and bottom as he buried his face into her hair-cloaked neck. “I could no longer survive without you, my love,” he murmured huskily. “I needed you to heal me, not rest.”

She withdrew to gaze into his face, eyes shimmering, smiling sweetly, and touching each feature tenderly. “Sometimes I am yet amazed at how deeply I love you, Fitzwilliam. This week has been torture, but it has been enlightening in revealing to me how profoundly I require you in my life. Not that I doubted our love and unity in any meaningful way, but I do not think I fully realized all the inconsequentials. Hearing your voice, sharing the little moments of my day, reading with you, taking sips of your brandy, stealing food off your plate so I do not appear a glutton, dressing to match your attire, arguing with you over some silly thing. Do you have any notion of how often I would think, ‘Wait until I tell William what so-in-so said.’ Or, ‘How William will laugh when I tell him this’?” They laughed together, Darcy nodding in absolute understanding.

Lizzy smoothed the hair away from his face, cupping his jaw and kissing lavishly before again withdrawing. He moaned lowly, eyes glazed with desire. She removed his right hand from her thigh and kissed each finger before placing his palm over the soft mound on her belly. “Mostly I missed sharing our child with you,” she whispered, smiling joyously at the wonder crossing his expression as he gently pressed and explored.

“I cannot believe the difference a week has made.” He was grinning foolishly, unaware that Elizabeth had loosened her dress until it fell over his head where he was nestled into her stomach. She laughed as he freed himself from the fabric, grinning up at her as she untied the chemise and exposed her front side.