Sharon Lathan - The Trouble with Mr. Darcy

“Stop that or you will yank every last hair out and I would rather not have a bald husband as of yet.”

He paused both his pacing and nervous gesture, looking to her smiling face. Releasing a sighing laugh, he closed his eyes and shook his head, dropping his arms with hands coming to rest on his hips. It was only a few seconds of silence before he straightened, inhaled deeply, and looked at her with his customary controlled expression in place.

“Very well then,” he repeated, “I concede that time clearly has not healed the past wounds as much as I thought, and that my vaunted forbearance is not as well established as I bragged, at least where Wickham is concerned.”

“Even you, my darling, are allowed to possess a few faults.” She smiled winsomely, Darcy again shaking his head and chuckling breathily. “The truth is, William, you boys cornered Wickham the second he walked in the door. Although I do not know what was said and certainly do not trust him any more than you, I can well imagine that having four men with heightened tempers surrounding would not bring out one’s best manners.”

“Perhaps, but he did not attempt the slightest civility or show a modicum of remorse for past deeds.” He proceeded to tell Lizzy about the parlor encounter, leaving nothing out.

“May I safely propose, dearest, that none of you attempted the slightest civility or extended a hint of grace for those past deeds?”

He did not reply, instead pressing his lips together and holding her gaze without any apparent shame.

Lizzy continued, “Dinner was no more uncomfortable than it ever is with such a mixed group of people. The tension level was a bit higher than normal with all the glowering menfolk. But Wickham was fairly polite and aside from a few borderline slurs was amiable.”

Darcy grunted, finally sitting on the sofa opposite Lizzy. “Yes, indeed. He is quite charming.”

“That is not what I meant. I merely want to cautiously advance the possibility that he intends no harm or has some nefarious plans. We only need to get through these few days and then we will be in London and have no reason to see him or Lydia again. As long as he is pleasant and causes no trouble, I think we can survive.”

He was staring at her, eyes dark and penetrating. “I noted that he brought a smile to your face once or twice, and a laugh at one point. His amiability and magnetism overcame your skepticism, I deduced.”

“Oh my God, William! Are you jealous of George Wickham?”

Lizzy laughed aloud while Darcy’s frown deepened into a surly pout. “I see nothing humorous in the situation, Elizabeth. By your own confession you once succumbed to his charm, however briefly, as well as his lies.”

Lizzy rose, still chuckling, and sat onto his lap entwining her arms over his shoulders. “Fitzwilliam Darcy, you are ridiculous and pathetic. And somewhat insulting. But, I shall forgive your offense against my character and momentary questioning of my love and devotion to you as I understand your fragile sensibilities and vulnerability.”

“Do not tease me, Elizabeth. I am not in the mood for lightheartedness.”

“I shall tease you nonetheless. And make you suffer for accusing me of any unfaithfulness, no matter how slight. Furthermore, you should be punished most severely for not recognizing when your loyal, adoring wife is fulfilling her role as Mistress of Pemberley and Mrs. Darcy, paramount hostess of Hertfordshire. However, since it is Mr. Wickham, and I know how distressed you are, I shall be merciful.”

She leaned to kiss him, but he halted her with firm hands grasping her face and fingers embedded into the curls pinned at the nape of her neck. His eyes bore into hers, no amusement evident within the dark blue depths despite her teasing, his voice a rough growl. “Elizabeth, sharing your smiles with other men is forever a torture for me. It is occasionally a struggle to avoid strangling my cousin or uncles. I am possessive, selfish, and covetous when it comes to you. George Wickham flashing his dazzling smile and dimples toward my wife brings all those unattractive characteristics to the forefront.”

He pulled her in then, kissing voraciously while his fingers searched for the pins holding her hair up. Lizzy melted into his body, a low moan escaping, but he abruptly drew her head away. “Add to my jealousy the fact that I do not trust Wickham as far as I could toss him, and I judge my temper forgivable.”

“I always forgive your tempers even when you do not deserve it.” She kissed him softly and released the top buttons on his shirt. “Just as you do mine. As for any jealousy, if I thought for one second you truly imagined that Mr. Wickham could spark the tiniest iota of interest within me, I would begin to doubt your ability to reason rationally. I would likely be forced to call Bethlam to take you away for insanity.”

“You do delight in teasing me, Mrs. Darcy.”

“Indeed I do, Mr. Darcy. It is your own fault, of course, as you make it entirely too easy an employment. Anyway, you should know by now that charm and amiability are not what intrigue me. As absurd as it seems, I apparently prefer serious and reserved. Dimples still pique my interest, but only those found on strong chins or faintly appearing in cheeks with brilliant, devoted smiles directed only at me in the privacy of my chambers.”

“Is this an exhaustive list of what enthralls you?”

“I like big men, tall and masculine, with firm muscles over every inch. Dark hair is beneficial. A rugged, clean-shaven jaw… well, perhaps a mustache. I am not sure, but definitely not a beard.”

“No?”

“No. I am certain of that. I am partial to soft, plump lips easy to kiss without interference.”

“Anything else of major importance to induce affection?”

She laughed breathily, maintaining her perch on his lap and relaxing into the armrest as he peeled her gown’s sleeve off her shoulder, initiating a methodical and sensual disrobing. “A resonant, authoritative voice is essential. Nothing weak or wavering. I love eyes as blue as the sky with intelligence and passionate fervor readily evident. Broad shoulders and a sculptured chest blanketed with downy black hairs. Hmm… Yes, indeed. Hands that are proficient, strong yet tender with elegant, gifted fingers…”

Her whispered words trailed away into a soft moan resulting from the blissful sensation of her husband’s lips upon the exposed flesh of her neck. Eyes closing at the added exhilaration of his roving fingertips that now brushed over her collarbone and downward over her breast, she mutely enjoyed the tactile stimulation.

“Continue, Mrs. Darcy. I must know what attributes intrigue you so I can be on alert for any potential competition,” he huskily demanded just before his warm tongue teased her bared bosom.

She gasped, resuming with a stuttering inflection. “A strong, prominent nose…”

“Forget the nose,” came a muffled voice.

“Indeed I shall not as the nose is highly important. Must be defined and forceful, making a statement of boldness and distinction. Plus, a perfect nose draws attention to the kissable lips beneath.”

Her words were cut off by abrupt movement. Darcy grasped her by the waist, lifting and pivoting in one powerful, smooth motion until a now naked Lizzy, except for stockings and slippers, was seated on the sofa with him kneeling between her thighs. He swiftly removed his clothing, drew her legs around his waist, and leaned his muscled frame over her smaller one.

“Any other necessary features to complete the package and drive your ardor to unnameable heights?”

She pointedly looked down to where their bodies met. One hand leisurely played over his exposed flesh, while the other entwined into his hair and drew his head closer. She pressed her lips against his earlobe, hot breath tickling deliciously as she whispered words for his hearing only.

Lizzy was correct in that Darcy was not seriously all that jealous of Wickham. His faith in their mutual accord was too tremendous. Nonetheless, he was a possessive man and the sudden entry of his enemy, a one-time rival for his wife’s affections, had upset him in a way he had not anticipated in his fretfulness over other concerns. Lizzy understood this and no matter how ludicrous she found it, and despite her gentle teasing, she wanted to assure him in the most elemental but glorious way that she was his. Only his.

There were no further words uttered. The only sounds were harsh grunts, rasping respirations, and sighing moans as they enjoyed the pleasure derived from each other. Love surged in an electric arc between their flesh and blinding bliss was attained simultaneously.

Later, after heartbeats slowed and lungs refilled with oxygen, the words flowed. But they were only declarations of eternal love and devotion. The topic of Wickham was left alone, neither giving it another second’s contemplation.

Lord and Lady Matlock departed the following day with plans to visit Lady Catherine and the Penaflors at Rosings. Their vacancy was barely felt due to the arrival of Major General Artois’s father and siblings. A different carriage rattled up Netherfield’s drive at sporadic intervals over the ensuing days depositing exuberant guests for the Darcys to greet and interact with.

Every day the women gathered to talk and prepare for Kitty and Randall’s wedding. The atmosphere was one of constant fluttering and laughter. There was not a great deal in the way of wedding arranging left to do, but with six Artois females added to the six Bennet ladies, Georgiana, and Simone, the gaiety was feverish.

The menfolk tended to vacate the manor as often and as early as feasible. The impetus was partly the desire for masculine pursuits and companionship since the weather remained fair with sunshine and blue skies perfect for hunting and long horseback rides. However, undeniably the drive was also to place distance from the females before roped into arranging flowers or, God forbid, weaving ribbons!

Darcy joined the gentlemen on their various jaunts but found the ladies’ giddiness charming. It brought back happy memories of those exhilarating days prior to his marriage. Now, as then, he had no clue what really went on and why it was such a cause of frivolity, but it was part of the female condition and thus oddly comforting to witness. In the evening Lizzy would rattle on about ribbons and flowers and lace and confectionary while he sat with one or both of the boys on his lap, indulgent as he attempted to comprehend it all.

One night he sat by the fire with Alexander and Dog curled against his chest. They watched Lizzy as she rocked the baby and listened to another discourse on the table decorations. Or maybe it was the food itself; Darcy was not sure which. At one point Alexander looked up at his father with a baffled expression that clearly questioned the purpose to the speech. Darcy just shrugged, smiling and winking before nestling his son closer and kissing his forehead. He returned his attention to Lizzy, now saying something about one of the main entrees, a dish with Cornish hens and rosemary gravy, and he perked up, as food was something he could understand to a degree. He did not have too much interest in the actual creation of the food, but did not attain his six-foot-three-inch height and broad bulk without appreciating tasty cuisine!

Kitty contrived extending her stay at Netherfield for three additional nights before the room occupied by her was needed for Randall’s family. Each of those nights she crept along the shadows to the far side of the manor where her lover waited, the door opening when her knuckles barely touched it. He would pull her into the room, pivot with her in his arms and, already kissing her lips, lock the door with one fumbling hand.

Clothing fell in a trail as they frantically groped and kissed their way blindly to the bed, tumbling in a heap of limbs, and joining together in a heated rush. The first time was always furious and fast, the long day of wanting each other producing constant states of arousal that increased drastically as the hours slowly ticked by until a blissful release attained in minutes was necessary. Then they could relax, enjoying the hours with conversation, short periods of sleep, and leisurely loving until dawn.

“I know you must return to Longbourn tomorrow, and it is for the best I suppose, but I do believe these next three days will be the longest of my life.” He smoothed the tangled hair from her face, studying her beauty in the half-light, committing it to memory in hopes it would sustain him in the lonely nights to follow. “How will I ever sleep without you here with me?”