Lizzy collected herself with effort, responding as firmly as possible with a sudden flare of jealousy. “I do not believe I can concur to such a generality, Miss Amy. Perhaps some men do not reveal themselves to those they are only mildly interested in.”

“This may be the case. However, a woman should be able to take a man at his word when he expresses interest and asks to call. After all, we poor females are completely at the mercy of a man's pleasure, so can only assume he is serious if he states his intent.”

“Enough, Amy,” Lady Griffin interjected with a laugh, as if the subject were highly amusing, “Let the past fade and look only to the future, I always say! I heard that the Prince Regent plans to hold a major fête next spring for his birthday. Now there is a discussion worth engaging in!”

For Lizzy, the remaining hour, despite the innocent banter, was torture. She managed to push her pain and jealousy aside for the most part, but was subdued, and when the men reentered the room, Darcy instantly knew something was amiss. Lizzy avoided his gaze, was pale, and her hands trembled. Falsely deducing she was fatigued and perhaps ill, he extended their thanks to Sir Griffin and escorted his wife to their carriage as quickly as decorum allowed.

The carriage had barely begun moving and he was facing his wife, clasping her cool hands in his warm ones. “Elizabeth? Are you ill? You should have called for me, beloved. Elizabeth?” Her face was averted, cast into the shadows of the inky carriage interior. She did not answer and his alarm escalated. Cupping her cheek, he attempted to pull her toward him, but she resisted and he felt wetness on his fingers. Truly terrified, he pulled harder. “Elizabeth! You are worrying me! Are you in pain?”

She was facing him now, lips trembling and tears shining in the pale moonlight. It was difficult to see her in the gloom, but he noted pain in her eyes, and her voice, when she spoke, was anguished. “When did you court Amy Griffin? Mere months before our marriage, so I was informed. While you were reportedly prostrate in your grief over me?”

Darcy staggered backward onto the seat, mouth open in shock. “What…?”

“She told me. Took great delight in telling me, in fact, of your intent and interest and seriousness. Why, William, would you take me to meet a woman you courted without at least warning me?”

Darcy pressed his lips together tightly and clenched his jaw, directing his gaze toward the far window. “I will not discuss this here, Elizabeth. It can wait until we are in our room.” His voice was flat and low, brooking no argument.

Once alit from the carriage, a rigid Darcy escorted Lizzy to their room, dropping her arm and crossing immediately to pour himself a brandy. He stood with his back to her, drinking, while Lizzy suffered waves of intense nausea.

Knees weak, she sat down feeling seriously ill, willing him to speak. When he finally did, his tone was icy and he kept his back to her.

“Elizabeth, I never claimed that I did not consider other women before I met you. From the time I was eighteen, I had every acceptable lady shoved into my face with friends and family incessantly harping on me to make a match, not to mention Lady Catherine badgering me about Anne every time I turned around. I was eight and twenty when I fell in love with you. Ten long years of potentials with their pedigrees and necessary standards listed ad nauseam, the qualifications drummed into me. Believe me, my family was frantic at my persistent single status, anxious about the Darcy line, and beginning to seriously fret that I was becoming too particular and set in my ways. Ten years of pressure. In those latter years, I began to agree with their assessment. I was tired of being lonely, tired of searching, tired of the parade of unsavory options, tired of relieving my sexual desires myself, tired of wanting.”

He finished the brandy with a large swallow, setting the glass down with a loud crash, and then turned around. His eyes were black with anger and old pain. “The stupidest thing I ever did in all my life was leave Hertfordshire. Maybe, just maybe, if I had stayed I could have proven my love for you and learned to accept it myself. Instead, I idiotically tried to forget you. Amy Griffin was at the Masque that winter. She flirted; we danced twice, and talked a bit. Do you know what my first thought was when she spoke?” Lizzy shook her head slightly, staring into his eyes. “That she reminded me of Elizabeth Bennet.” He smiled wryly. “She was witty, vivacious, pretty, proper, and acceptable. I wondered if she could fill the void in my heart that I keenly felt was only touched when I was with you. We encountered each other that winter at a few social engagements, and I called on her twice after Twelfth Night: all proper, in her home, with family present. I do not even know why I bothered the second time, except I had to be sure. Not sure that she was not the one for me, but sure that you were. Miss Amy is the only woman I had ever met who was nearest to what I had sought, yet she was not the one. That place was already taken by you, Elizabeth. After that second visit, I was convinced and decided to somehow find you again and win your hand.”

He sighed, hanging his head wearily and running a palm down his face. “Only now I see she is nothing like you. You do not have a cruel or vindictive bone in your body, Elizabeth.” He swore, meeting her eyes with guilt. “I have failed you again, my love. As with Lady Catherine, I trusted and had no foresight that Miss Amy deemed my meager interest serious, nor that she would seek to hurt you in spite.”

“No! William, stop,” she replied, as she jumped up and rushed to him, placing her hands on his chest. “You do not need to apologize for her! I am the stupid one. I was ragingly jealous that anyone may have garnered your affection, however minutely, and I took it out on you. In my juvenile suspicion, I forgot your age and searching and loneliness. Naturally you would have courted others! I am a fool. Please forgive me?”

He shook his head curtly, declaring resolutely, “I never courted anyone, my Lizzy. Not even you actually. I was very inept at the game. A call for tea upon occasion, a dance at the appropriate places, dinner, and such, but never anything official. Nonetheless, there was a handful that I seriously considered. They never materialized, obviously, but I was looking very hard. This is all further proof of my incompetence in that I brainlessly walked away from you. I am flattered at your jealousy, but it is unwarranted.” He clasped her face passionately. “How many times must I tell you that you are the only woman I have ever wanted? Anyone I remotely considered pales in comparison to you.”

Lizzy responded by throwing her arms about his neck and claiming his lips in a possessive, aggressive kiss. When she released him, withdrawing scantly, he was panting and parted lips were swollen. “You must tell me and show me often, Fitzwilliam Darcy, because I will not share you. You are mine, exclusively mine, for all eternity and I will not let you forget it nor have cause to want another!”

“Elizabeth, I will never…” but she stopped his words with another equally covetous kiss, attacking his coat with rapid enthusiasm, tossing it violently away and then assaulting the cravat. Darcy was momentarily confounded by her onslaught but quickly reciprocated with his own raging need to prove his faithfulness and ownership. At the precise instant that she reached the lowest button of his waistcoat, yanking in frustration at the time consuming process and sending the button flying, he grasped her dress where the endless row of tiny buttons began and ripped. The dress gave way, hastily falling to the floor alongside his vest, the tinkling of a dozen pearl buttons hitting the wooden floor unnoticed by either.

Darcy clutched her harshly, her feet lifted off the ground as he crushed her to his chest, Lizzy kneading his shoulders with steely hands. The kiss continued unrelentingly, both probing and claiming custody rights. Slithering as an eel, Lizzy escaped his grip, loosening his shirt tail from his waistband, and crouching to plant moist kisses to his belly.

“Only mine,” she murmured against his exposed abdomen.

Lizzy traveled voraciously up his torso as the shirt was peeled away, eventually tossed haphazardly as she interspersed hungry kisses with numerous firmly declared only mine statements. She was everywhere on him, kissing and touching. Not an inch of his flesh escaped her conquest; her demand to once again affirm her title to him ruled.

Darcy was dizzy, swaying on his feet with passionate flame. Neither fully realized they were stepping incrementally toward the bed until the edge was felt behind his knees. With a combined shove and pull, they fell onto the mattress, Lizzy on top of his body. Their eyes met for a second, insane lust and absorbing protectiveness visible.

Lizzy reached to free him, holding his gaze. Untying her chemise to expose her breasts for firm caresses, Darcy watched her, panting stridently as she shifted. She paused, the moment stretching as eyes locked. “All for me, Fitzwilliam, and I only for you.” He nodded, unable to speak, and they merged, Darcy hungrily pulling her in for a savage kiss.

Forever, it seemed, they danced. Always needing more, wanting the sensations to cascade higher and endure eternally. There is a limit; however, they consistently managed to transcend the previously attained boundaries over and over again. Lizzy dug her nails into his shoulder, whimpers passing ruddy, occupied lips as they crashed and flew joyously over the pinnacle of bliss.

They both collapsed, lying entwined and dazed for long minutes. Lizzy caressed over his fair skin, a feeling of intense relief rendering her again breathless. Despite it all, the reality of how close they came to losing each other yet reared up and terrified them. Tears sprang to her eyes and she squeezed him tight, Darcy lifting to brush her tears away.

“Hush, beloved,” he whispered tenderly, bottomless amounts of love conveyed in his husky voice. “We were meant to be, fated by God, I believe. Nothing would have kept us apart, and nothing ever will.” He kissed her softly, brushing warm lips over hers, no longer possessively but with belonging and unity.

The Darcy's sojourn in Derby lasted five days total. It had, in fact, been seven years since Darcy tarried in Derby for more than a day or two, many of the local curiosities and attractions unseen. For Lizzy, having only passed through the Midland area on her way to and from Pemberley, it was an adventure and a delight.

They rose early on their second day in town, breakfasting light in the common room, and then set out to tour the township itself. They walked first to the Derby Cathedral, an ancient church built in the tenth century originally, although much of the early stones of those far gone days no longer remain. The truly impressive part of the church, and where it attained its fame, was in the two-hundred-foot, Gothic tower built in the sixteenth century during the reign of Henry VIII. The church proper and attached building for clerics and attendants had undergone numerous renovations over the centuries, the final product a mélange of varied styles. However, one glance at the tower and all else faded. It was stupendous.

Lizzy and Darcy arrived early, only a few other folks about. The grounds were beautiful with blooming flowers and tall shady trees. Like all churches everywhere, a serene hush existed in the arched interior. Long rows of wooden benches with a handful of supplicants in meditation and prayer graced the inner sanctum of curved white and gold columns. An elaborate and truly breathtaking, lacy, wrought-iron screen separated the nave from the chancel, two clerics actively offering prayers as Lizzy and Darcy entered. They wandered quietly, admiring the beauty visible in every inch of the environs. Darcy sat for a spell, gazing up at the altar, visage peaceful as he said silent prayers.