Chapter 22: Mrs. Darcy's POV

I stood for a few minutes outside Pemberley with my husband at my side watching the two carriages depart that were taking my father and new mother on their wedding trip. I turned back toward our home when the carriages were out of view but the dust had not yet settled.

My husband let me have several moments of quiet introspection afterwards, but once we gained the foyer Fitz said, "Now we are doubly related." I took a moment to think about that. As my father was now his step-uncle, Fitz was now my step-cousin as well as my husband. He added, "They are well and truly married and, due to your efforts, they have been most successfully welcomed into society with the most grand wedding breakfast I have seen, bar perhaps our own. Now what should we do with the rest our day, my dear?"

I appreciated his compliment to my own hostessing skills, all the while trying not to think about how Mama had hosted our own wedding breakfast. I deprecated, "I did very little, only made all feel welcome. Given my condition Mrs. Reynolds handled all the arrangement save for a quick consultation as to the menu and the color for the decorations. She, Mrs. Richards and our staff did all the hard work and are deserving of your praise."

I added, "Perhaps we may go to our private sitting room. Now that the festivities are over, there is a situation I wish to tell you about."

When we reached our sanctuary with its green curtains, warm fireplace and locked door, he inquired, "Darling, what is on your mind? I hope it is not another dispute between the servants."

"No, nothing of the sort. I wish it were for that would easier to solve." I sat down upon the sofa and he joined me. Fitz patted his lap which was his gesture to suggest that I should place my legs across him. With some difficulty I swiveled, my swelling belly making the movement more awkward.

My husband helped me right my twisted skirt, removing my slippers with practiced ease and then lightly rubbed my feet through my stockings. Then he moved his hands up, sliding them along my ankles and then calves. I contentedly sighed. His touch was both reassuring and sensual, and I felt a desire to put off the needed conversation. "Um," I sighed. He swept his practiced fingers along the ribbons that tied my right stocking on, just above my right knee.

"Might I remove these?"

As this was often a prelude to marital intimacies, I told him regretfully, "Not just now. I have a real problem and I need your help."

My husband removed his hands from beneath my skirt and tugged the hem down. "So what sort of Gordian knot are you facing?" Fitz asked me, gently rubbing the top of one of my thighs through my skirt. His touch was now more reassuring then tantalizing, but still I felt a soft flame of desire which could quickly be stoked to an inferno, should I let it.

With difficulty I pulled his hand away. "Stop distracting me. I need to get my thoughts in order."

"As you wish. What is it?" Concern touched his eyes.

"It's the Bingleys. Jane confided in me, during Lady Catherine's hen party, that things are not right between them. Fitz, she is terribly unhappy and I feel we must do whatever is within our power to make things right between them."

Fitz picked up my hand and leaned over toward me, placing a kiss on the back of my hand. "Dearest, Bingley is unhappy, too. He told me and Mr. Collins all about it last night. He loves Jane but he has bungled the whole thing up. I cannot but think I am partially to blame, for had I not sided with his sisters he would have returned to Netherfield and sought Jane's hand then rather than sought comfort elsewhere."

I felt a tightness in my stomach. I asked, "She alluded to it, but what exactly did he do? Jane did not really say where he found such comfort or how it occurred."

Fitz hesitated. "I'm not certain I should be talking about this. "

"What is more important," I asked, annoyed, "a misplaced sense of loyalty among men or trying to fix what is awry? They need our help."

Fitz said, "I am afraid that we will have a row. Undoubtedly you will take Jane's side while I will be tempted to stand up for my friend."

"Perhaps," I owned, "but we will get over it, I am sure."

"That is just it," said he. "A woman who loves her husband forgives. After all, how many times have you forgiven me?"

Fitz paused to kiss my hand again. "Undoubtedly Bingley has erred, but Jane has been punishing him since then, has not ever seen fit to forgive him. He believes she does not love him and by her actions I would say she has proven him right."

"That is not true!" I insisted, feeling angry, but unwilling to prove him right by fighting, and so took a moment to temper my response, to try to sound reasonable. "I know Jane and she does love him."

"She shows it oddly then," he said calmly and his very calmness annoyed me. Fitz must have seen something of how I was feeling as he took a moment to gently rub my legs before adding, "Bingley says Jane does not want him to touch her, shows far more warmth to the children than to him. Men are needy creatures and while he may not have told her so, her rejection hurts him deeply."

I took time to consider what my husband said, to not dismiss it out of turn. I responded, "I do not think love is the problem at all. Rather it is that she cannot trust him, to value her as she wishes to be valued. Although she did not say it, I think she is afraid of his rejection."

Fitz's forehead creased, "That does not make any sense at all. She is the one pushing him away."

"Perhaps it may appear that way to him," I told my husband, trying and failing not to sound annoyed, "but I think it is her way of protecting herself. Jane tells me that Bingley is absent most evenings; she suspects he has a mistress or perhaps has an arrangement with a merry widow."

"Poppycock!" Fitz looked annoyed. "A wife should not assume the worst about her husband. I suspect he is merely seeking comfort in the company of friends," Fitz responded. "Why Bingley brought three men to your father's stag party when none but Bingley was invited."

I felt the tension between us grow and felt uncomfortable now to have my legs across him, I slid them down off him, placed my feet upon the floor and sat up straighter. He gave me an annoyed look when I withdrew my legs, but made no move to hold my hand or otherwise soothe me. I felt the familiar movement in my middle and so rubbed at the swell, deriving comfort from that small life.

"Still," I told him, "should not a husband endeavor to show his wife devotion, to help her know that no one is more important to him? Bingley failed her by leaving when they had an understanding." I saw Fitz's eyes widen, apparently Bingley had not told him that detail but to be fair to Bingley I added, "While it was not exactly formalized from the words that they exchanged it all but was and it was not easy for my sister to be so forthcoming with him. That trust was broken when he did not return to Netherfield and then . . . "

It was hard for me to speak about what he had done to her. I was not sure if Bingley had told my husband what he did when he was gone; perhaps he had and that was something he did not want to share with me, but I was determined to bring it up. "Then he found someone else to help him forget her. I understand that men have their passions, but why did he think he needed to tell his new wife all about what he had done? It was poorly done."

Fitz responded, "It was not his finest hour. Certainly it would be better if he had not acted this way and discretion afterwards would have been best, but can you not see how he abhorred lying to her? Bingley cannot keep a secret to save his life."

"Well he made quite a mess of it. Can you not understand why she does not trust him? The misery she had in being separated from him must pale compared to the misery of being married to him but not really having him. It is like an arranged marriage without the respect, but far more hurt."

"Well what should he do to make things right?" Fitz asked me. His eyes looked sad. "If he loves her half as much as I love you, he must be in abject misery."

I shook my head, "Honestly, I am not sure, except that they need to talk with each other, let it all out and try to start again."

"That sounds easier said than done," he responded.

I shrugged. I agreed with him. "I wish Lady Catherine was about. Surely she would know what to do." As we were no longer disagreeing, I shifted a little closer to him. In response he placed an arm around me.

"Well, they will return in two weeks," Fitz responded, rubbing my shoulder. "Still, I do not wish to sit idly by. Lady Catherine is not closely connected with either one of them so it seems to me that we should make an effort to do something."

"Does not being step-mother to Jane and me count? Even if Lady Catherine was no relation at all, I doubt that she would hesitate to interfere."

"You may certainly raise the matter with her when they return, should we not have any success," Fitz told me. "We can think about all this further, can we not?"

I nodded. He leaned closer and kissed my cheek and then turned my face toward him with his hand. I could tell he was about to kiss me. I leaned in and we shared a hungry kiss. Somehow knowing how precious marital harmony was, made us cling to each other with more urgency than before.

He broke the kiss and stood up, drawing me up with him. "Do you not think it is time for a nap, Mrs. Darcy?" Fitz asked me with an intense look that told me napping was unlikely to be the activity that he wished to partake of, at least not until after a more pleasant interlude.

"Indeed," I told him, anticipating his touch, already wanting him.

He gave a little nod and then bent down and picked up my slippers. In my stocking feet, I walked beside him. As the sitting room was off of our chambers, there was not far to go. We went inside and he walked me to our bed. He left me sitting on one edge as he went to lock the doors.

When he returned he acted as maid to me and I was as valet to him, divesting each other of our clothing (although in the process many kisses and lingering touches were exchanged between us so it was nothing like having a maid undress me or a valet undress him). With every stroke of our hands along each other's bodies, I felt my anticipation grow. When we were bare before each other, he pulled me atop him. He said, "In those first few weeks after we were married, I would have never dared to do this." I nodded, remembering how little I had known then of all the ways we could give each other joy. I sat upon him and slid my hands though his dark chest hair. I reveled in how his body was so different from my own and how much he enjoyed my touch.

Perhaps I should have been self-conscious about my growing middle, but I was not. His hands were not idle, stroking all over my front and sides. He groaned deeply as I took him in me and I moaned my own delight. In the light of day I could see all his desire, joy and fulfillment as we moved together. It was very good and sensation and feeling captured all my attention. It was about this moment and nothing else seemed important.

It was only after we were done and I was relaxing into a nap, on my left side with my beloved behind me, his right arm draped over me, gently stroking my belly and my breasts, as my eyes were closing, that I thought for a moment about my sister. But soon enough sleep claimed me and I knew nothing until Fitz roused me saying, "Darling, it is almost time to dress for dinner." I groaned, unwilling to get up. In the end we had the meal brought to us. I felt a little bad that we were not dining with my sister, but not badly enough to get up; after all, was that not what her companion was for? When I roused again it was the middle of the night and while drowsy we took pleasure in each other again. Afterwards, my sister was the furthest thing from my mind.