That she esteemed his figure was obvious, and highly appreciated, but his humble nature shied from taking it to the next level. As she grew bolder in her attire and the flirtatious exposing of her flesh to his eyes, he quailed at the idea of such exhibitionism. However, the brightness in her eyes and lascivious smirk were encouraging, so he decided to do his best to please her.

He started with the buttons, the top two already undone, feeling utterly ridiculous as she avidly watched.

“Now, slowly pull the ends from your waistband.”

His eyes widened in surprise at her command, realizing that she intended to talk him through it! He blushed deeper, but also felt a scorching surge of lust, especially as her gaze was no longer on his face, but clearly inventorying his person with rising ardor.

“Take it off, Fitzwilliam, unhastily, while turning in a circle.”

His face was scarlet but only partially from embarrassment. Heat was flowing through him, her vibrant voice and covetous stare enlivening.

“Hmmm… I love the way your muscles flex as you move,” she whispered with a reflexive moan.

She kept up the train of admiration and instruction, the removal of breeches never taking so long in his life. It was awkward, and he felt a bit the fool, but it was obvious by her deepened voice, panting breaths, and visible shivers that she was profusely pleased by his performance. By the time every bit of clothing was removed, he too was intensely aroused, much to his surprise.

Then she floated toward him, hands lifting to airily brush over the hairs on his chest, and he thought he would burst into flames. She touched him everywhere, murmuring appreciatively over each feature, finally leaning into his back. With lips pressed between his shoulder blades, the level most comfortable for her to reach, and hands stroking intimately, she asked, “Are you adequately seduced, my love?”

He growled in response and stilled her stimulating hands. “Are you adequately in the mood, sweet love?”

“Come to bed and we shall see.”

Quite some time later, the bed tousled and their bodies entangled and lying diagonally, Lizzy rose on one elbow to gaze at her gasping spouse. She kissed his chin, fingertips dipping into his navel. “You performed stupendously, my love.”

“Yes,” he agreed with a smug leer, “I sense you are pleased.”

Lizzy rubbed over the fingertip-sized pressure marks across his posterior shoulder blades. “Indeed I am satisfied, but I was not primarily referring to your prowess and ability to send me to the moon. I was talking about your impressive disrobing. I was not sure if you were up to the task. But considering the last time we were here and my excellent lesson in the art of seductive undressing, I trusted you had learned capably.”

“Ah! Indeed I remember quite vividly. So that was your impetus, was it?”

“I was praying for an adequate, perhaps somewhat neophytic, performance, but you wildly exceeded my expectations.”

Darcy grinned, snatching her teasing hand and bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. He drew her body closer, encircling her with both arms and delivering a long, lazy kiss.

“Mmmm… I forgot to ask if you remembered to lock the door.”

He nodded as he swept the snarled hair from her face. “That lesson has been indelibly etched into my brain! Yes, the door is locked. But now that you have touched upon the subject, I am going to ease my mind of their welfare ere I fall asleep in your arms. I shall return momentarily.” And after another kiss, he left.

Lizzy stretched and sighed happily, belatedly recalling the foul news of Wickham. Tomorrow is soon enough, she thought, nestling deeper into the linens warmed by their love and yielding to drowsiness.

The tentative knock that roused the Darcys on their second morning in Hertfordshire brought instant wakefulness to Lizzy but only a rumbled groan from Darcy. She leapt from the bed and grabbed her robe, while Darcy turned onto his stomach and burrowed deeper into the mattress. No bell was installed to alert of a hungry infant, but the morning routine was ingrained.

A half hour later Lizzy returned. Darcy had not budged and was breathing regularly, but instead of snuggling gratefully into his welcoming warmth, Lizzy stirred the fire and curled up in the chair. She gazed into the flames as her racing mind drifted to matters both pleasant and distressing.

It was always a joy to visit with family and friends after the long winter sequestered in Derbyshire. This year was extra thrilling due to the wedding and new lives born in the intervening months. Letters passed over the miles at a regular pace, but there was only so much information that could be inscribed onto parchment. Long hours of fellowship were required to catch up on all the news.

Lizzy sighed and drew her legs against her chest. She knew it was imperative that she inform her husband of Wickham’s appearance before he heard of it from a less understanding source, like her mother.

Oddly, she did not know how Darcy would respond to meeting George Wickham after all these years. He certainly would not be thrilled by the idea, but she was unsure how deeply his animosity yet ran.

It was nearly two years since the information reached them of Wickham’s discharge from the army and his subsequent relocation to Devon. Letters to Lizzy from her flighty sister were nonexistent, but Mrs. Bennet received sporadic updates. They were always vague, no one sure what the full details of their living conditions or Wickham’s employment were. Knowing how irresponsible her sister was, it never crossed Lizzy’s mind to consider the mystery a sinister one.

Darcy relinquished his guilt over Lydia’s situation, recognizing that they were a married couple who were responsible for their own lives. The dearth of explicit information with only Lydia’s giddy ramblings to discern from together with the great distance to Devon meant that it was not a topic often broached. Darcy, like Lizzy, simply did not think of the Wickhams.

Now they were to be here for Kitty’s wedding. Why? It was baffling and she feared Darcy would interpret it as an ominous sign. She hated to see her husband or Georgiana discomfited and she fretted over Kitty’s wedding being disturbed, her own thoughts dark as she stared into the flames.

Darcy roused, groggily noted the emptiness of his arms, and groped for where his wife’s luscious body should lay. While his sleepy mind decided she was probably nursing Michael, his eyes slit open and noted with surprise that she sat by the fire. After a few seconds of sluggish mental assimilation, his gravely morning voice broke the calm, “Beloved? Are you well?”

“I am fine, love. Just thinking.”

“Come back to bed. I need you.”

Lizzy joined him under the quilted counterpane, their arms embracing naturally and hands caressing. Darcy nestled his head onto her right chest, cheek pillowed by her bosom with warm breath wafting over her sensitive skin, humming in cat-like satisfaction.

“I love you, Mrs. Darcy,” he mumbled in a thick sleepy voice.

“I love you more, Mr. Darcy,” she retorted with the standard playful response, feeling Darcy’s amused smile against the soft flesh of her breast.

“How long do I have you all to myself before your mother and sister descend upon Netherfield?”

“They will be here mid-morning, before noon. Charles and Jane should arrive shortly thereafter.”

“Yes, and that reminds me. Do you mind terribly if Bingley and I desert you all this evening and spend some time at the Meryton billiard hall? Mr. Bennet has informed the men of our visit and although I am sure they are more delighted at the prospect of Bingley’s presence than mine, a dinner and games have been arranged.”

“They undoubtedly fear being humiliated once again at the billiard table.” She responded, rubbing her face against his silky hair. Darcy snickered evilly, offering no rebuttal to the plausible truth. “Do not fret about us womenfolk, my love. We can entertain ourselves without the dashing men about to liven the atmosphere.”

“I have no doubt of that. I was most concerned for Jane. Do you think she will be distressed to have Bingley gone?”

Lizzy shook her head after thinking on his query for a moment. “I do not believe so. We can dine at Longbourn as planned and I judge that the familiarity of family with the children playing at our feet will soothe her. She needed to distance herself from Hasberry for a while and this is a perfect place to start.” She continued to play with his hair, fingers running through the brown locks absently. “Physically she has recovered and is overcoming her grief. Also, Ethan’s walking has evolved to running so she is keeping busy!”

Again she felt Darcy’s smiling lips graze her skin. “Indeed! Life is never the same again once they begin to walk. Alexander was easy to control, but I have a feeling I will need to install stout locks or barricades over the stairways to prevent escape and severe tumbles when Michael begins to toddle, which, considering his precociousness, will likely be well before Alexander did.”

They both laughed and nodded. Darcy’s hand traveled from its warm roost on her hip to the flat expanse of her abdomen, pressing gently into the soft flesh, his voice low when he spoke. “I do not like to think on the sadness of losing a child. Bingley has recovered from the loss for the most part, but it must be extremely difficult for a woman.”

Lizzy squeezed tightly and said nothing. The trauma Jane suffered in miscarrying her second child during the middle of her pregnancy was profound, as they both knew, thus words on the subject were unpleasant. The midwife assured them that Jane was healthy and should conceive and carry easily in the future, as the stillborn, a girl baby that Charles would not allow Jane to see, was malformed, hence the cause of the miscarriage. It was a tragedy nonetheless, the past three months a difficult period for both Bingleys. The sturdiness of their now nearly two-year-old son was a balm to aching hearts.

Silence fell for a spell. Darcy closed his eyes, stroking his wife’s velvet skin, utterly at peace. Lizzy, conversely, was tense. Breaking the news about Wickham’s imminent return into their lives was not a topic she relished relaying, yet she knew it needed to be spoken, before events intruded and he discovered the information in a more startling manner.

How to broach the subject? For the past hour she had played through scenarios, practiced the best words to ease his distress, but nothing would make the blow any easier. Just say it! She chastised her cowardice and opened her mouth to speak…

“How long ago did Michael nurse?” He interrupted in a sultry drawl, fingers initiating the subtle frolicking over her skin that drove her mad. “Experience has taught how diverted we become with family and activities intruding, so I think it essential we make love while we have the opportunity to do so. Agreed?”

“Lydia and Wickham are coming to the wedding.”

Darcy froze, the hand that encompassed her left breast clenching.

Lizzy bit her lip, the blurted statement shrilly spoken in her haste to forestall his amorous attentions that would surely have driven thoughts of offensive family members out of her mind. She groaned and cringed at her lack of tact. “William, I…”

“Yes, I know they are coming.”

“You… What?”

He rose up, serious eyes engaging hers. “Mr. Bennet told me last night. He thought I should know and be prepared.” He smiled, smoothing the hair by her startled eyes. “Your father does not know all the details of my past interactions with Wickham, but he knows there is a certain… animosity, shall we say? I gathered that he is none too thrilled either, although I am sure he is anxious about Lydia and will be pleased to see her.” He paused, frowning and cocking his head. “Is this why you were sitting by the fire in thought rather than nestling with your husband?”