Elizabeth Darcy led her husband by the hand deep into the woods surrounding their estate, following the path Mrs. Reynolds had showed her the previous day. When they finally reached the small cottage in the woods, Darcy stopped in his tracks and his grip on his wife's hand stopped her, as well.

"Elizabeth, why have you brought us here, of all places?"

"William, those foul men have been gone for months now. I think it's time we reclaimed the cottage for Darcy use. I had some of the servants out here this afternoon, dinner is waiting inside. Additionally, I haven't been alone with you for any period in two months, and I'm growing quite impa-" Darcy finished her thought with a soft kiss.

"Well, then, Mrs. Darcy, may I escort you to dinner?"

"You certainly may, Mr. Darcy."

A full hour later, when the Darcys had completed the most delicious and peaceful meal in recent memory, along with a bottle of France's best wine, Darcy asked when she planned to return to the main house.

"Actually, William, I have Mrs. Turner watching the children by herself this evening, and I had the servants deliver supplies for breakfast as well as dinner. I thought perhaps we could stay here…"

"Elizabeth Darcy, I like the way you think. I assume you also had something to wear tomorrow delivered?"

"Of course."

"And you're certain, absolutely certain, that both you and the children will be well apart for the night?"

"I think we'll manage, but I would request that you divert me from any worry I might feel on their behalf."

"And how, my dear, shall I provide such a diversion?"

"Oh, I'm certain you'll think of something." Darcy was almost embarrassed at the thrill going through him-this conversation carried every indication that she was ready to return to their accustomed marital state, and he was happy to let her lead him wherever she wished to take them.

"I ordered a new nightgown recently, as well. It is getting rather late, I think I shall change. Come to bed soon, darling?"

"Of course, love."

Damn it all, I was so certain she was ready, he thought. But surely she wouldn't need a new nightgown in that case...she's never slept in one before when we've….

The thought was lost to the archives of Darcy's mind. His wife had returned in her new nightgown, and he was finding the term to be rather a misappellation. The alleged nightgown was black, sleveless, and cut so low he wasn't entirely sure how she wasn't spilling out of it, and it only fell to her knees. The middle was less of a night dress and more of a corset, laced up the front and secured so tightly that her breasts, already enlarged with milk for the babies, were straining at the collar. The silk was so thin he could see the outline of everything that wasn't already exposed to him even in the dim light of the fire.

"Do you like it?" she asked, blushing a little. Darcy swallowed hard, certain his wife could see that he liked it by how hard he was straining his breeches.

"Does this-ahem-does this mean you're ready for me to come to you again?" He barely got the words out in his desperation to tear the silk from her and claim her, but he needed to hear the words, needed her to tell him she was ready.

"Quite ready, William," she punctuated her consent by biting her lip, and Darcy was lost.