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Darcy's body jolted and his eyes flew open; he had just experienced a nightmare where Elizabeth had left Pemberley, had left him and taken their baby boy with her. The thought provoked his heart to pound, for if she had not bent to his whim and read what he had written, she could well have ended their lives together by demanding a divorce. No! I would have refused, run after her and fought tooth and nail to persuade her to return; I would never allow what we have to fall by the wayside. What would have come of the child?

There he was, lying on his back in her bed, gazing up at the feminine canopy; his present whereabouts soon soothed his anxieties over the 'what ifs' playing in his mind, for was she not lying next to him in tranquil repose? And had she not acquiesced to his wishes and read what he had to say, and believed it immediately?

A gentle sigh left his lips as he looked at her slumbering form; Darcy almost felt as he had done when he first awoke after their wedding night. He had watched her sleeping then, before possessing the idea of tormenting her with a feather from his pillow. How novel and untried those first days were, where his heart pounded in anticipation of not knowing how she would react to his touch. Now he felt the newness once more; not in the sense of his attentions on the unchartered territory of her flesh, but the new understanding he had… no, that they both had. The knowledge of how each other felt only encouraged an even more profound emotion to emerge from Darcy's heart. How much more can one man love?

He was saddened to think of the past few days; it all could have been avoided so easily. If only he had not hesitated in his own announcement and listened to his cousin, or had Mr Gardiner not easily swayed his opinion when they first met in London. The man evidently wished for Elizabeth to marry and did not want anything to inhibit a favourable decision. Then he pondered on the idea that if she had been told, she might well have refused him the courtesy of that first interview; he would have had no chance of meeting with her and therefore remain ignorant of the woman whom he now loved so dearly.

He shuddered at the prospect of living his life without his dear Elizabeth beside him, or worse, have a wife reluctantly chosen straight from the pickings of high society. Someone not dissimilar to Caroline Wickham; a union only formed as a necessity to begat an heir and nothing more. What if he had met her after he was already wed to another? Could he live his life knowing they were never to be together? Would he offer her something else instead?No! I would never do that to her, he silently chastised himself, but it would have been a struggle to stay away from her door without some improprieties on his side.

The moonlight from the window flooded into the room, the effulgent glow shone across Elizabeth's body, making her almost angelic in his eyes. They had neglected to draw the drapes when they finally ventured in from the balcony, allowing the light from the fire and the moon to brighten the room. They had not even attempted intimacies, for both were too exhausted to contemplate physical activity. With only enough strength between them to undress before laying together in each other's hold, they settled down and fell into a much-needed sleep that neither had obtained in previous nights.

Now he was awake and in desperate need to reconnect. Should he dare to wake her? He could not help but stroke his fingers gently up her arm, from the elbow to her shoulder, then back down again; repeating this process until she stirred.

Elizabeth had been lying on her side, facing her husband, when the delicate sensations of his caress awoke her. She did not open her eyes but recognise Darcy's raised ardour due to his breathy state. In an attempt to be closer, she snuggled into him, then drew her leg across his own, and whispered his name.

Darcy turned slightly towards his wife before pulling her further into his embrace. Elizabeth's leg had shifted somewhat and was now anchored across his hip; this resulted in a heavenly sensation as his now zealous soldier stood to attention, proud to be poised at her wetness and eager to charge. "Elizabeth," he breathed. The single word paid reverence to his lover, whereupon she responded with a gentle coo. His hand swept down her spine, and she felt the tips of his fingers flex into the rotund cheek of her rump.

Without saying a word, she shifted even closer to him as she pressed her naked form against his own before he turned onto his back. Now she lay sprawled across his chest, her legs astride with her knees firmly on the bed; her cheek resting upon his chest as she languished in a dozy state.

Darcy wanted nothing more than to immerse himself into her soft wet cavity, for she had started to gyrate her hips into his loin instinctively. The pressure this delicious palpation was creating urged Darcy's baser instinct forward. "Oh, my love, let me make you mine again," he appealed.

Elizabeth, sleepy in her state, carefully lifted herself in order to place him at her entrance before slowly pushing down onto his length. She shuddered as he penetrated her warm niche; the slow impalement had Darcy almost bucking into her as Elizabeth lackadaisically manoeuvred in order to take him to the hilt.

Without much effort, she lay back down upon him, her cheek resting against his chest once more. There, she gently rocked her hips back and forth, and with the assistance of his hands upon her breech, Darcy aided her rhythmic jostle. A slow but steady incitement grew until both bodies trembled with the anticipation of that moment when all around them did not exist. Only they were each other's world; their forms combined into one with the ultimate pleasure that was about to take hold and burst forth. Elizabeth continued her delicate agitation until she felt the snap inside and her cranny cried out as her pleasures hit its acme.

Darcy could not stop the impulse when feeling his wife's reaction; he pushed into her once, twice, thrice more, as he rode out his own ne plus ultra, crying out her name as he emptied himself within her. "Lizzy! Oh, my Lizzy!"

His seed was no longer necessary, but he knew he would never be able to leave his wife be whilst she was with child. Even considering her confinement towards the end of her gravidity, he had come to realise it would be nye on impossible to abstain, not until there was a necessity to do so.

Elizabeth was still sprawled across him as they calmed. Quietness filled the room as their breathing returned to normal, but Darcy could tell his wife was upset. "What is the matter?" he urged.

"You… you called me Lizzy," she sobbed.

"I will refrain if you do not wish me to, but I thought…" he said, not realising the tears were those of happiness. Had his wife not told him before that no one had called her such anymore?

"No! No! I want you to call me Lizzy, for it is endearing to me."

She sniffed and went to rise from her position, but Darcy held her close. "My nose is running," she proclaimed.

"Use the corner of the bed sheet," was his simple answer.

"I cannot use the bed sheet. What will the maids think? To find snot everywhere." She was serious, but Darcy started to chuckle.

"Snot!? How many times did you read Wickham's letter? Has his crudeness rubbed off on you and blighted your manners?"

"I did not even get past the first few paragraphs. I read as much as I needed to, for he was most certainly reckless with his script. I hope you do not speak of me to others in that manner." Darcy was all for defending himself, but noticed the look on his wife's face; her brow cocked, and a smug look radiated from her features. He instantly knew she was teasing him, so refused to take the bait and silently shook his head instead. "I do know such words, for did I not give Bingley a well-deserved position in life when I struck him? I should have rewarded him with a bendlet sinister across his familial arms to prove his status; this would have suited him well," she chuckled.*

"I think you placed it straight across his face with your fist," he laughed. "His nose was surely bent and ran from right to left."

"Do you think he is permanently disfigured?"

"Yes, that will not fix back in its original place, nor will his teeth grow back, but Richard told me he is after some Waterloo teeth."

"What are they?"

"Dead soldier's teeth, plucked out of their mouths whilst they lay on the battlefields."

"Good, Lord! How can he have those in his mouth? Such a vain man!"

"I am glad you did not bestow such aggression upon me. I quite like my features." At this tease, Elizabeth burst into tears. "Lizzy, do not upset yourself, I was only joking."

"But I was so evil towards you. How could I not trust you? For you have been nothing but kindness, and I knew you cared for me, really I did, deep down. But… but something just came over me; I could not help myself. Once I realised one thing, every other possibility became apparent. Your uncle's words, Neptune being outside the smoking rooms. Then, when I realised what that place was, I could not help my anger from escalating beyond rational thought, and the idea of you bedding all and sundry prevailed in my mind. I remembered I had never seen sight of Wickham's letters and only had your word that it had occurred. I should have trusted you. You are my world, Fitzwilliam, and I could have destroyed it all with my stupidity." She fell back onto his chest and wept. Darcy did not know what to say to quell her sorrows, so just held her, until he felt her body relax into repose once more.

Elizabeth woke to find half of her bed empty. Had she dreamt the past twelve hours? She found the papers on the floor alongside her husband's journal when her worries increased, for she had fallen to sleep whilst reading them. Looking across the floor, she noticed Darcy's shoes in the corner and breathed out her relief. Where had he gone? Surely he had not returned to his own apartment? It would have been dangerous to walk into that room barefooted.

She rose from the bed and on doing so, felt the delicious sensation between her legs, for her husband's essence that he had so pleasantly anointed her nether region with in the night were still apparent upon her body.

As she collected the articles from the floor, she felt a wave of nausea come over her. It was so profound that she had to rush to her dressing room in order to subject the chamberpot with her emissions. Although she had felt bilious the few days previous, she had never expelled; it was an act she did not entertain, but somehow this brought about a certain amount of comfort for did it not add to the evidence of her gravidity?

"Elizabeth? Where are you?" Darcy called out as he returned to her bedchambers.

"In here," she managed to reply before her head aimed into the chamberpot once more.

"Oh, darling! You are ill!" he cried out as he watched her heave from her kneeling position on the floor. She looked up at him and grinned. "Why are you so pleased to be ill?" It did not immediately register, then it clicked.

He rushed over to her and disregarded the fact of what she held in her hands. He kissed her most thoroughly, but Elizabeth pulled away. "Stop! Fitzwilliam, I have just vomited!"

"I do not care." His eyes were dancing with happiness, and the lack of restraint was apparent.

"Well, that just proves your love for me. If you can kiss me when I have just brought up the contents of my stomach," she laughed, but it was short-lived as she grabbed the jordan once more.

Darcy shifted and placed himself behind her; his arms came around and held her so tenderly as she continued. There they sat for a few minutes until Elizabeth's malady had receded. "Good, Lord! If I have to contend with this for weeks, if not months, it would be best if I bring my bed into here."

"Or have a pot under the bed like everyone else."

"That would be better," she smiled at the obvious remedy her husband had just stated. "It would also save me spoiling your precious rugs on the way, if I am not quick enough."

"Maybe you should talk to another woman, Mrs Reynolds perhaps? Or Aunt Cecilia…. No aunt is probably not a good idea," he rebuked himself. "Mrs Reynolds may be able to assist with reducing the chances of it happening."

"Reducing the chances of me spilling on the rugs?" she teased.

"Lizzy, you know what I meant; something that may reduce your sickness; a medicinal tea or something you can eat. The local apothecary might have a remedy."

"Say it again; call me Lizzy," she cooed from her position in his arms.

"Lizzy, my darling, Lizzy," he effused. "Now, let me get you back to bed so that we can talk in comfort."

At this, Elizabeth started to cry once more. "Hey! You need to calm yourself. You are not doing yourself or the baby any good if you are upset with everything I say."

"I know, but with you suggesting we should talk just reminded me of my stupidity. You must think me a simpleton to come up with such stupendous conclusions yesterday."

"Hush now," Darcy soothed, "Let me get you settled." Darcy escorted his wife back to the bed and crawled under the covers beside her.

"I know I explained in the letter, but do you wish to ask me anything?" Elizabeth looked at her knotted fingers, contemplating on whether to ask. "We need to be honest; there is obviously something on your mind."

"I just wondered why it took you so long to tell me how you felt. It is not as if we did not have privacy."

"I was petrified of your differing sentiments, darling. It was quite early in the marriage when I realised, the morning after our first night together, in fact. I did not think you felt the same and could not cope with you telling me that the feelings I was experiencing were not reciprocated. I did not wish to live in an unequal marriage, so chose ignorance instead, hoping to remain in my naive state of bliss. Richard urged me to talk with you, and I did heed his call, but it was only moments before my cowardliness set in once more. As time went on, it became more and more difficult to reveal myself. I was going to declare my love for you on the morning of my accident, but things took a turn."

"I did wonder what you were going to tell me. The note said you wished to discuss something that was important to the felicity of our marriage, but you were in no fit state afterwards, then our argument over the horse. After that, I did not think on what you had mentioned in your missive. I knew I loved you by then, but you taking your sister's words over mine led me to believe you did not care for me in that way, so I tried to push my feelings aside. My attempts were futile, for within a short time your attentions gave battle to the guard around my heart, and I was hopefully and completely in love with you again. I did not wish to say how I felt, as I had been brought up to believe that one should stay quiet on these sorts of things until the man declared himself."

"Did your father tell you this?"

"Yes. He said that no lady should be so forward, not before the gentleman declared he felt the same way. I could see his point; he did not wish for a daughter to act like those ladies you see in town. Father had to bare women fawning all over him before he married my mother. He had already turned forty and was late in inheriting Longbourn, so decided to take in a season to see if he could beget a wife, but all he found were simpering harpies who did nothing but agree with whatever he said. If the sky was pink and the grass blue, they would have accepted his claim.

"Even though Papa was not rich in comparison to some, he had hoped to maybe meet with a young widow or someone slightly older who did not mind a lower income. He was harassed, however, by some of the women who were being threatened with spinsterhood; those were worse than the debutants, for their desperation urged them forward in their droves. Then, when he least expected it, he met my mother."

"How did that come about?"

"She was the daughter of an attorney in Meryton, and had just come out of her father's establishment as my father was entering. Papa once explained to me that the woman he was destined for fell into his arms; but I understand from talk around the village that papa had walked straight into her so violently that he had to grab her about the waist to stop them both from falling." She laughed at the tale she had heard. "Mother swatted him with her fan at the impropriety of their new predicament, for he was holding her rather close to him. This, of course, piqued my father's interest and from then on he would not let her be until she relented to become his wife.

"They only had a short while together, before…" Here Elizabeth stopped. She did not wish to think upon the circumstances of her mother's death, for had it not been for her, she would still have been alive.

Darcy could tell her mood had taken a turn. "Anything else you wish to talk about from my letter or the diary?"

"Yes. You are one clod, Fitzwilliam Darcy!" his eyes shot open. "How could you run back to the comfort of your townhouse on hearing I was nearby?"

"I…I…" at least he had the sense to blush. "It was quite doltish of me to run. Cowardly, in fact."

"If only you had stayed… Although, father died on the day you left, so the timing would not have been good after all. I forgive you for being a milksop, even though I doubt you are one now, for how could one act as my knight in shining armour when faced with Mr Bingley. I should have known how you felt about me, for you were prepared to put your life in jeopardy for my honour."

"But I did not think of honour when I went to the smoking rooms. I disrespected you as my wife in even contemplating on entering that building, even if I did not go there for the purpose on which it existed. I should have thought before I acted."

"Oh, yes. The trollop." Elizabeth was quiet for a moment. "Fitzwilliam, what was it you wanted to buy Richard?"

Darcy cringed at her question, but openness was his new motto so divulged the details. "It was a piece of furniture… a chair."

"A Chair? What sort of chair?"

"Erm… for conjugal relations… Richard had gone on about it for quite some time, and I thought it would be rather a good wedding gift. For obvious reasons, it could not be the main one, but a secret gift from one cousin to another…. But, Lizzy, when I was at the furniture makers, I got rather over enthusiastic." Elizabeth frowned. "In my zealous state, I ordered a second."

"For us?!" Elizabeth's eyes widened in shock. The thought of the gilded gold and red guest room came to mind and Elizabeth had to stifle a giggle.

"I will get rid of it when it arrives. It was thoughtless of me even to consider you would care to use such a contraption, by reason of where the concept came from." His words came quick, hoping to give instant relief to his wife.

"No, Fitzwilliam, I would like to see it, and maybe even try it?" she said with a wicked glint in her eyes. "It seems I was too hasty to change the guest room, for we could have placed it amongst the garishness of a French brothel and abscond to the guest wing when we were in need of something a little more thrilling than the marital bed… And I believe you should close your mouth, before you catch flies."

AN

*(heraldry) a thin diagonal slash, extending from the sinister chief of an escutcheon to the dexter base (running from the viewer's top right to bottom left) A supposed mark of bastardy.

The chair mentioned will come up again in later chapters, for a heads up, it's a tantra chair. I know this will be an anachronism, but I'm taking artistic licence on this and believe they may have been around in a bespoke manner, lol