Chapter 17

The next few weeks passed blissfully for Elizabeth, with only occasional dark patches to mar her happiness. She met with Darcy two or three times a week in the little house, and had tea with Georgiana almost every week. There were still Vincent's spurts of anger, and the occasional dinner she had to host for his friends, but otherwise her mind was focused wholly on Darcy and their love. They sent missives to one another daily, and Elizabeth kept all of her love letters locked in the drawer of her desk. She knew she would cherish them forever, no matter what happened between her and Darcy later.

This day, about a month after they had started to meet, Elizabeth was hurrying down the steps of the handsome cab to the house. She and Darcy had not been able to meet for a week; he had been busy with unexpected business, and she had been busy planning and hosting a ball for Vincent. Both lovers were eager for each other, so that the instant Elizabeth opened the door, she was immediately pulled in with eager hands and kissed passionately.

She arched her back and kissed Darcy back just as passionately, then found herself pressed against the wall. Her breasts felt full and swollen, and the private place between her legs was already tingling. She had been anticipating this on the way and found that she was almost ready for him already.

She was able to unfasten her bonnet and throw it to the ground as Darcy lowered the neckline of her dress and popped a breast out.

"Oh, my love, I missed you so much," he said as he fastened his lips around the erect tip and began to suck on her. Elizabeth was moaning, and found that she was trying to lift her leg and wrap it around him, to get as close to him as possible. He popped the other breast out of the dress and gave it the same treatment.

"Please, Fitzwilliam! Please! Love me!" she begged.

Darcy looked up at her, his face covered in a sheen of sweat, twisted with his need. He lifted her ruby red skirt and felt between her thighs, groaning when he found her already wet for him. With a single rip, he tore away her undergarments, then lifted her up to lean against the wall. She wrapped her legs around him easily, and, pulling her skirt out of the way, he unfasted the fall of his pants to free himself.

A moment later he was inside her, driving hard. Each thrust pushed her against the wall, and despite the minor discomfort, Elizabeth found herself moaning loudly with pleasure at every thrust. They had never done it this way before, and she found that the base of his pubic bone was rubbing against her sensitive nub in a way that brought waves of pleasure skimming through her body, until they coalesced in a climax such as she had never felt before. With a bellow Darcy followed her moments later, spilling his seed inside her.

He slumped forward, and she held him to her, still propped up by the wall. After they had recovered somewhat, Darcy lifted his head to kiss her lips tenderly. "That was quite something," he said with a smile.

She laughed. "It was indeed!"

"I missed you so much, my love," he said.

"I missed you too," she said, kissing him again.

Carefully he lowered her to the ground, slipping out of her as he did so. It was then that Elizabeth felt his seed dripping down the insides of her thighs and realized what had happened. She suddenly turned pale. "Fitzwilliam, you did not pull out of me!"

He looked concerned at once. "I am so sorry, my love. I was not thinking. It was so wonderful, and I had been so long without you, that I lost control of myself a bit."

"But what if I get with child?" she cried, her voice growing a bit shrill.

Darcy's eyebrows furrowed, and he tried to sooth her. "It is not likely, my love. It was only one time. Let us not panic. We should wait until it is time for you to have your courses again. I have no doubt they will come, and this worry will all be just a memory. I will be extra careful from now on to always pull out."

Elizabeth felt somewhat reassured, although there was still that sense of worry deep down. How would she explain a baby to Vincent, when he had not lain with her for more than six months? And if she could somehow get him to believe it was his, what kind of life would that child have with him as a father?

Darcy took out his handkerchief, and cleaned her up, then led her to the kitchen where he boiled some water and served her a cup of tea.

After a cup of tea, which she drank snuggled on Darcy's lap, her panic had mostly receded. "Do not worry, my love. I will always take care of you," Darcy reassured her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She lifted her lips for a more intimate kiss, and he accepted her invitation gladly. Soon they were breathing hard, aroused again, and Darcy led her into the bedroom, where they made love in a much more leisurely and tender fashion. Afterwards, Elizabeth found her fear had dissolved. Surely there was nothing to worry about.

Two weeks later, Elizabeth's worry had come back. Darcy had kept his word, and consistently pulled out after that one slip, but her courses had not come. They were supposed to have started today, but she had had no cramps and so far no sign of blood. She resolved not to panic. Maybe she was just late.

The next day, however, she still had not bled, and when Sarah asked her if she needed her rags, she confided in her maid.

"I may be with child, Sarah," she said in a wobbly voice. "Mr. Darcy and I were … not as careful as we should have been, and it is a definite possibility."

Sarah's face furrowed with worry. "Perhaps you are only late, my lady," she suggested in a soothing tone. "There is no need to worry.

But the next day, her courses still had not come. She had an appointment to meet Darcy that day, and she made her way to the little house with no lovemaking in mind. As soon as she opened the door and discarded her bonnet, Darcy could apparently see the worry on her face.

"What is the matter, Elizabeth? Are you well? He has not hurt you again, has he?" he asked.

"No, no, it is not that, Fitzwilliam. But I should have had my courses three days ago, and they have not come."

Fitzwilliam's face tightened almost imperceptibly. "Are you sure you are not simply late?"

"I have never been late before. I have always been strictly regular. Oh, what am I going to do!"

Darcy held her close in his arms. "Let us wait a few more days before we panic," he said soothingly, although privately he was worried. The only solution he could see was to have Carlisle lie with Elizabeth, so that he would think it was his child. The thought of that monster touching Elizabeth in such a way made him feel ill. He dared not give such a suggestion to Elizabeth.

"Come, let me make love to you," he said, making soothing circles on her back with his hand. "Then you will feel better."

Elizabeth agreed that it probably would, and they retired to the bedroom where he made love to her so tenderly that Elizabeth could not help the tears that filled her eyes. He held her close when they were finished, and she wondered if this idyllic time in her life would soon be over for good.

A week later, Elizabeth's courses still had not come, and that morning she had awoken feeling sick to her stomach. She was now certain that she was with child. She wrote a note to Darcy, telling him what she had concluded but that he must not worry; she knew what she must do.

She had no idea what anguish those last words would cause Darcy; but Elizabeth had no intention of lying with her husband again. She knew he would not come to her bed of his own volition, and so she had set forth a plan.

She waited until the next night, when she knew that Vincent's friends would be coming over to the townhouse for dinner. Vincent always drank to excess on those nights, and while she feared him when he was in his cups, she sought to use it to her advantage this time.

On this night, the wives of Vincent's friends had not been invited, and so the company was more ribald than usual. As Lord Forrester told a risqué joke, Elizabeth quietly kept filling Vincent's goblet with the potent wine he was drinking. The men completely ignored Elizabeth's presence. She was there mainly to ensure the food and wine kept flowing for the gentlemen's delight, nothing more than part of the furnishings. But Elizabeth saw it was to her advantage this evening.

The night grew later, and one of Vincent's friends had already fallen asleep at the table. The rest, halfway drunk, teetered their way to their carriages and departed, until only Vincent was left. He was fully inebriated at this point, which always made him ugly; but Elizabeth had no intention of getting close enough to him to let him hurt her.

"Jones, will you please help Lord Carlisle upstairs?" she asked.

The burly footman looked at her with a glint of sympathy in his eyes. She knew all the servants in the house loathed their master for his ill-treatment of not only them, but of the mistress, whom they loved. But necessity required them to keep their jobs so that their families could eat. Jones responded, "Yes, my lady," and helped Vincent lean against his shoulder as the viscount wobbled up the stairs and down the hall.

"You can just bring him to my room," she said, and caught the momentary surprise on the footman's face.

Vincent was muttering imprecations but seemed barely aware of what was going on, on the edge of a drunken sleep.

"Just on the bed there," said Elizabeth, and Jones brought Vincent to the bed and let him drop, a heavy weight, onto the counterpane.

"Should I remove his boots, my lady?"

"Please," replied Elizabeth.

Jones did so quickly, and then Elizabeth said she needed no more assistance, so the footman left, with a worried glance behind him.

He need not be concerned. Vincent was already snoring. But Elizabeth had a plan. She had to make Vincent think that he had lain with her while he was in his cups. Therefore, gingerly and with disgust, she unbuttoned his fall, and pulled out his flaccid member. Then she mussed up the sheets and the pillow on her side of the bed.

After she had fixed everything to her satisfaction, she called Sarah to help her undress, then retired to the small cot in the dressing room, which her maid sometimes used. She had no intention of spending the night in the same bed with her husband.

Vincent woke the next morning while Elizabeth was breakfasting in her room. Sarah had brought up a tray of tea and dry toast to sooth her queasy stomach.

Vincent groaned and looked about him in confusion. Then he noticed his bared penis and the ruffled bedding. "Do not tell me we spent the night together," he said, repulsed.

Elizabeth turned to him with equal revulsion. "Of course not. Once you were finished, you rolled over and I was able to sleep in the dressing room."

Vincent grabbed his head, then sat up. A moment later he was rushing for the chamber pot. The sound of vomiting did nothing to help Elizabeth's nausea, and she had to swallow several times before she was certain she was not going to throw up herself. Vincent staggered to his bedchamber a moment later and Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief.