Memory: Volume 3, How Far We Have Come, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice) (35 page)

“I know what I want you to touch.”  He took his pride in hand and waggled it at her.  “Lizzy, please . .  .”

She bent and kissed it then went back to her massage.  Darcy threw his head back and groaned louder than before.  “What are you doing to me!” 

“Loving you.”  She lifted her chin and kept on with her touching; now her finger tips walked over his chest, and with a sudden glint she dove on top of him and began tickling.  Darcy yelped and curled into a ball, trying to escape her relentless attack.  “Give!”

“Never!”  He gasped, laughing and swearing while trying to fight off her thousand fingers.  “Lizzy!” 

“Give!”  She cried and squealed when she was suddenly rolled over and now Darcy began to return the attack.  “Will!”

“Now you know how it feels, laughing girl!”  He growled and letting go, kissed her hard before laying down on top of her, completely trapping her body, and crushing her into the feather mattress.  They panted at each other, swallowing and grinning.  Brushing hair from her eyes, Darcy’s searched her expression.  Wordlessly he bent down, caressing her jaw with his thumb and curling his hand beneath her neck, lifted her head so that he could begin a thorough exploration of her mouth.  Finally drawing away, he smiled to see her half-closed eyes, and sighed to see her tongue just peek between her lips.  He leaned back in to touch his tongue to that teasing pink tip, and once again they were lost in their kisses.  Darcy’s hands held her head still as her hands travelled down his shoulders and over his bottom.  He let go, only long enough to adjust his position, and with her hand immediately there, they quickly guided his pride home.  “Ohhhhh, Lizzy.”  He breathed and swivelled his hips to find the deepest position before lying back down while she curled her body around his.  “Sweet, so sweet.”  He rocked slowly and they stared into each other’s eyes as they moved together.

“Come here.”  Elizabeth drew his face forward and they kissed while their hips continued the slow grind.  Her back began to arch and she clutched his shoulders.  “Oh love, that is . . . oh, that is the sweet spot . . . oh.”

“You . . . oh love you are the sweet . . .” He closed his eyes when he felt her body begin to pulse and throb around him.   “Squeeze me love, harder.”  He urged and began thrusting faster as she moaned and shook; the wet sound of their bodies meeting and parting drove him to move just as her soft cries filled him with feelings of power and pride.  The smell of sex was heavy around him and with all of his senses engaged, he let out a tremendous roar when Elizabeth’s hand caressed his ever-tightening balls, and he at last felt the excruciating pleasure of release.  Weightless, Darcy nuzzled his face against her shoulder as slowly, slowly; he drifted back down to earth.  “ahhhhh.”  He sighed and held on without opening his eyes.

Smiling at him, Elizabeth kissed his forehead, and let down her legs.  Immediately, he stretched out and held her tighter.  “Will?”

“mmmm.”  Darcy lifted his head and blinked at her sleepily. 

Elizabeth kissed his nose.  “Contented as a satisfied kitten.” 

“Satisfied for certain.”  He kissed her and looked down at her breasts.  “Ohhh, I forgot about these.”

“Oh my!”  She laughed as he ran his hands over the mounds, then plumped them up to make himself a pillow.  “Better now?”

“Much.”  He turned his head to blow and kissed them before looking up at her.  “We should do this more often.” 

“Some would say that we do it far too often.” 

“It is not every night” 

“No, if we were not so busy . . .” 

“We will be home soon.”  Darcy finally rolled off of her and they turned, curling together.  He ran his hand over her belly and then kissed the bite he had left on her shoulder.  “And I know just where we will go first.”

“To visit my tree?” 

“And to make sure that your dream is fulfilled.”  He clasped his hands over her.  “Our dreams.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes and said softly as she drifted off to sleep.  “I can think of no better occupation . . .”

Chapter 11

“H
old up there.”  Darcy and Lucas turned in their saddles and looked back to see Bingley trotting up.  “Good morning!”

“Good morning.”  After a bit of jostling, the three were riding abreast through the park.  Darcy leaned forward and looked across Lucas.  “I am surprised to see you up so early.”

“Oh.”  Bingley’s eyes rolled.  “I could not stand to stay a moment longer, it was a crush.  I was abed at a reasonable hour.”

“I thought that you liked that atmosphere.” 

“I do, but even I have my limits!”  He laughed and Lucas smirked.  “No, I suppose that I just found little to hold my attention.  Here it is only June and I am dissatisfied with Season already.”  He glanced at Darcy and looked down.

Darcy studied his friend.  “Well then, come with us tonight, that should be a whole new crowd for you.”

“Ah, your crowd.  It is a thought.  I can look at the peers and sob in my punch at how very low I am.”

“Fine, stay home, then.  Elizabeth will miss you.  I will not.”

“That was cruel, Darcy.”  Bingley was glad to see his concern.

“I am glad to be staying behind with Jane.”  Lucas grinned.

“You just want the house to yourself.”  Darcy prodded.  “Elizabeth will laugh at the theatre goers behind her fan, but in the nicest way.”

“Naturally.”  Bingley licked his lips and glanced at them, and then stared ahead.  “I saw Miss Simkins last night.”

“Oh?”  Lucas looked at Darcy.  “How does she fare?”

“Quite well, seems to be over her heartache, seems the suitor has taken up with a new lady and Miss Simkins has decided she is better for it.” 

“She told you this herself?”  Darcy said incredulously.  “I would think that she was humiliated.”

“It . . .it was scuttlebutt from Louisa and the ladies.  Perhaps they are just trying to rebuild her confidence.”  Chewing his lip again, he went on.  “The girl, Miss Jessica is well.  Looking after her nephews.  She is blending into the neighbourhood, nobody knows of her past.”

“She is fortunate to be there, then.” 

“Perhaps she has a chance, she is very fortunate that she is not with child.”  Lucas said thoughtfully.

“She is fortunate that she is not diseased.”  Darcy added grimly.

Bingley nodded and then cleared his throat.  “In any case, I had a delightful conversation with Miss Simkins, you know, talk of town, favourite activities, whatnot.”  He paused and Darcy waved him to continue his obviously belaboured story.  “Yes, well the point of it is that she likes everything that a lady is supposed to like and that she is no different from any other educated woman in society.”

“And that is disappointing?”  Lucas asked. 

“Well that is the confusing part, I told her that she was adept at answering a gentleman’s questions correctly, and that she knew all the proper skills for discourse.  She took a little offense at that.”

“I am not surprised; you implied that she was playing a game.”

“Isn’t she?”  Lucas asked Darcy.  “They are taught every move in order to secure a husband, everything about them, dress, deportment, conversation, skill, is all designed to woo us, and those who do not follow those rules are frowned upon.”

“But some of us do not prescribe to that idea of perfection.”

“Precisely!”  Bingley interrupted and both turned their heads to him.  “I apologized for my poor response, but then admitted my curiosity and said that I have met many young ladies, and some are significantly different from the others.”

“I assume that there are fewer of them and more of the other.”   Darcy smiled.

“Yes.”  Bingley laughed.  “As you know.  And she responded oddly.  She said that I need to determine if I wish to know one who is unique or one who is properly formed.”

“Ohhh, I can hear Elizabeth responding to that.”  He imitated her voice,
Because one does not conform to strictures, it does not make them improper or less worthy.
  “Her hackles would decidedly be raised.”

“That is because she is one of the unique ones.”  Lucas pointed out.

“Well, yes and I thought of other women I know who are unique.  And I told her that I am not so quick to judge.”  Bingley’s chin was up and he was staring rather determinedly ahead.  Darcy’s brow rose and he contained the laugh that was itching to come out.  Lucas snorted.  “And then she said something that gave me pause.”

“Which was?”

“That society is quick to judge, and that I should be very careful with any decisions I make about my future.” 

“Food for thought.”  Darcy said slowly.  “She speaks from experience, of course.  She is being scrutinized and watches her every move even more carefully than a young woman who is simply following the rules of propriety to find a mate.  She is probably defensive as well as careful.”

“That is painfully true and rather sad.”  Bingley agreed.

Darcy was silent for a few moments, “But then again, even if her manner is subdued or careful, you should still be able to discern her nature and decide if you like it.  So going back to her statement about differences in character, a woman can have all of the beauty, accomplishment, and manner of the idealized mate that we have been taught to desire and require, and still be lacking in that certain indefinable extra that makes her very presence necessary for you to breathe.” 

“Quite dramatic, Darcy.  Were you looking for the unique flower in the meadow?”  Bingley smiled and noticed Lucas was looking away and chuckling.

“I did not look at all; she simply appeared one fortunate day.”  He smiled and shrugged.  “As you have said, you have things to think about.  No hurry.” 

“No.”  Bingley smiled and feeling better, focussed on the horizon.  “No hurry at all.”

30 APRIL 1811

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of activity, and frankly I will be glad to see it end.  Our dinners with friends have been memorable and enjoyable, but the only fondness I feel for the balls were the few precious dances I had with Elizabeth.  Even if I could claim every set it would not be enough.  She positively glows, I do not know why, but I drink it in.  Perhaps it is the joy she feels seeing Mary so happy.  I feel it as well, but Elizabeth and Jane, they know all too well the lonely life our sister endured and to see her now with de Bourgh eagerly hovering around her is glorious.  I laugh when I think of how I had to once convince her to accept the slightest embrace from me.  Now I nearly have to pry her and de Bourgh apart each time I enter a room they have occupied alone for more than a minute!  Very well, perhaps I exaggerate, but they certainly do blend easily together.

Bingley has become increasingly amusing as he wanders the pitfalls of the Season.  How many times have I been approached for my honest opinion of him by various fathers?  How many young ladies have put themselves before him after my endorsement is heard?  I apologize to you, Bingley, but I know that you take it with good humour.  I am sorry though that of all the ladies you dance with, the one you would prefer is not able to attend the same events.  I hope that the relative freedom you will find in the country will answer the questions that arise every time you do happen to meet, no matter how brief the conversation. 

We continue to await some decision by Robinson regarding his proposed journey to Spain.  Bingley and Hurst will confront him tomorrow instead of travelling to Epsom with us.  I regret losing his company, the Derby just will not be the same without his cheerful presence, but I wish him well.

Darcy closed the journal and set down his pen.  Then, thoughtfully, he picked up the one journal of his father’s that dated from the time after his mother’s death, and turned the pages absentmindedly.  These words were from the time that he was nearly an adult, almost a graduate of Cambridge.  He felt his father’s pride for him every time his name was mentioned.  He read of events that were clearly etched in his memory and was curious how his perception of them differed from his father’s.  One entry made him pause and close his eyes, and wishing to move away from it, he flipped the pages backwards and lighted on another.

7 April 1806

Today we returned to London from Rosings, one more Easter has come and gone.  This year I think was particularly difficult for Fitzwilliam.  His days at Cambridge are nearly over, and I know that Catherine’s patience is at an end.  She has been waiting for his graduation like the greedy spider she is, hoping to ensnare my son into her scheme.  No Catherine, no.  My boy will not marry Anne unless he does it of his own free will and by his own desire.  I can feel your almost gleeful anticipation, hoping to pounce upon him.  I heard your endless dissertations on family and preserving the wealth.  It did not fall on deaf ears, as you supposed.  I heard you.   Fitzwilliam heard you; and you nigh scared the boy to death!  He shot looks at his cousin, who was staring at him in a manner that frighteningly resembled possession, and I could feel him trying to make himself smaller, quite a feat for such a large man.  No, my son will not be your prize Catherine.  Something is not right with Anne.  She may be my niece but she will never be my daughter!

“Thank heaven for that.”  Darcy mused, “Thank you for sending me off on my journey not so long afterwards.”  He could hear Elizabeth singing from her dressing room and stopped for a moment, closing his eyes to listen closely to her song, and then smiling, he thought of her coming to him the night before wearing nothing but a garland of pearls. He imagined her so dressed, reclining back in the long grass of their glade, dappled sunlight dancing over her.  “Our special place, I long to take you back to . . .” He sat up suddenly and reached again for his father’s journals.  Each reference to the special place where he and Anne Darcy would go to find peace had been marked.  He sat with a book open and staring into the distance.