Version II; Volume VII.

Chapter XXV.

"And this is the Library," Mrs Reynolds declared, opening the double doors to the large grand room, with the many bookcases which covered all of the walls. Once more, she discreetly observed the Countess, watching her reaction and manner, as the young woman made her way over to one of the walls, and read the titles there on view.

Already, Kate felt no need to disregard her first impression of this young woman. The Countess presented such a contrast to the usual female guests that her master was often obliged to invite, because of the friends they were related to. Quiet, kind, intelligent- judging by her close occupation with the leatherbound volumes she was presently perusing -and not at all constantly conscious of her station.

Indeed, she was a very intriguing young woman. Kate had seen her genuine appreciation of the house, but only hints of the other sides to her personality. Occasionally, she had been close enough to be able to observe the fading bruises on her arms, uncovered due to the warm summer weather.

Kate had felt disgusted the moment she caught sight of them. Miss Elizabeth was such a nice woman, and did not deserve to be handed such a terrifying first marriage. By the time they had reached the last room to see, the Library, Mrs Reynolds had resolved to help her master with the protection of the Countess as much as possible.

The housekeeper's opinion of the Countess continue to rise as the days passed. Having been told by her master to treat Miss Elizabeth as mistress of the estate,- but also make sure that the young woman had no idea that they were, -Mrs Reynolds was often required to see her on a regular basis.

In each meeting, Kate found her to be an excellent mistress, despite her young age, and her previously limited authority in her own household. Under her care, the household, already under the benefit of the best master, prospered even further, as they gained a de facto best mistress.

And Kate was also able to set another concern to rest, as she searched for and found feelings, which, if not of the same degree as her those her master felt, were still very much present inside Miss Elizabeth. By the end of the first week that the trio had been at Pemberley, Kate could clearly see that the Countess cared for her master, and was well on her way to being in love with him.

But that was in the future. Now as Kate continued to observe this young woman, she was forced to quit her occupation, as through the open doors of the Library came her master. He had evidently been searching for the Countess, a conclusion Mrs Reynolds reached by observing the expression on his face as he set eyes on her.

With a silent nod to his housekeeper, the kind that, between masters and servants that have lived under the same roof for so long, can easily understand, Mrs Reynolds calmly bowed her head and made her way out of the room. She had shown the Countess all over the house, a journey of enough length to observe her character properly, and be content with the result. Now she would willingly let the romance continue.

Darcy watched with fascination Elizabeth's movements as she read the titles in the shelves, fingering a certain volume when one caught her attention. He had been closeted with his steward for most of the morning, as he strove to catch up on what events he had missed during his long absence from the county.

The estate was running as efficiently as ever though, which had thus given him liberty to enquire after the Countess' whereabouts, causing him to be standing where he was now. He had been most pleased to learn that she was touring the interior of the house with Mrs Reynolds. Kate's quick approval of her he had been pleased to receive, knowing that it would go a long way to giving Elizabeth the ease she needed to find peace in this strange county.

It had also eased his own mind considerably. He had been so concerned as to her safety, that he had not thought of how it might be regarded by his household until they had arrived at Pemberley.

As usual, Kate had anticipated him, and had already bestowed her approval of the woman he hoped to install permanently by his side. And her approval, would instantly pave the way for the rest of his household, both in town and country, where the name of Mrs Reynolds was regarded with the highest respect.

All this contained his thoughts but a moment. Now Darcy moved to be near Elizabeth, making sure he did not startle her until he was standing beside her. "If there are any volumes which you would like to read, please feel free to do so at your leisure," he remarked by way of greeting.

Elizabeth uttered a quiet gasp, then turned to face him. "Thank you," she answered, his blessing encouraging her to take out one of the books she had been fingering, for a closer inspection.

"Have you enjoyed your tour?" He asked, his eyes watching avidly the movements of her fingers, and the turn of her head, she opened the book in her hands.

"Pemberley is truly a beautiful house," she replied, the appreciation clear in her tone as well as her words. "And Mrs Reynolds was a most capable guide."

"Indeed, you cannot praise either of them too highly for me. I have known both for as long as I can remember, and regard each as my anchors in an often chaotic world." He paused, in order to fix his eyes upon her own. "Will you allow me to spend the rest of the day with you?"

"Have you not business with your steward?"

"It is done. I am fortunate enough to have a most efficient household. My steward keeps me up to date through correspondence whenever I am away, ensuring that when I am here, there is not much left that has not already been dealt with." He changed his tone to one of profound earnestness. "Please, allow me to keep you company. We may do whatever you wish to do."

"Is it not the duty of the guest to follow the whims of their host?"

"Quite the contrary, I assure you." He smiled at her, then held out his arm for her to take. "Or do you wish to remain here?"

Elizabeth turned to window, observing the glorious view it beheld. "It seems such a pity to waste this fine day in doors. Let us go out." She took his hand.

As the days in Derbyshire turned into weeks, Elizabeth felt a change come over her. Or rather, a reversal. Before her marriage, she had considered herself as lively, witty, intelligent, and of equal worth in the company on men. The Earl had changed all that, forcibly transforming her into a quiet, scared beyond the ability to speak even when away from him.

Now however, she seemed to be coming out of that enchantment, and into another, altogether more pleasant one. Even in the days of rain, Pemberley still produced its marvellous wonderment; a stark contrast to the gloomy estates of her husband.

Its location, set as it was in a valley, presented the illusion that it was shut away from the rest of the world, in its own private existence, where nothing could tarnish its beauty. Nothing could touch it, even in bad weather it still shone to all who resided upon its lands. Elizabeth found herself feeling safe, whatever part of the ten mile round estate she happened to be in.

Emboldened by the security she felt, shades of her old character were now tentatively let out, first for a trial showing, proceeding into continued presence when no one displayed any disapproval or objection to them.

Even her wit, which had been one of the first traits she had been obliged to discard upon her marriage, could reign free here, and was even returned and responded to, as she found that her hostess and host could be just as proficient in the art. As the weeks continued, Elizabeth finally felt sure enough of herself to explore what had long been apparent to her; Mr Darcy's feelings.

Since their evening spent together at Blisstham, she had been aware of his love for her. But until now, she had not felt the liberty needed to explore it, and try to perceive her own. It was a love like nothing that she had ever witnessed before. Even between Jane and Bingley, a match she knew to be a happy one, Elizabeth had never seen depth of devotion.

He seemed to convey it almost without any effort, and in every single glance he bestowed upon her. At times, she risked being lost in his gaze, as his dark brown eyes fixed upon her own, calling her soul to answer his own. It was a rare occasion to find him not looking at her when they were in each other's company.

The love was not demanding, nor desperate, nor unhealthy obsession. Rather, it seemed to benefit the both of them, a daily proof she was given whenever she happened to overhear one servant remark to another how happier their master seemed to be since her arrival.

When she had become accustomed to its constancy, Elizabeth began the uncertain task of exploring herself, and seeing if she could return any of it. She found that if nothing else, she liked him. His company was always pleasant, his opinions always well-informed and well thought out. She admired the way he handled his estate, and his conduct with the servants.

She found herself blushing whenever she received his praise or whenever he uttered her name. He addressed her by it only when they were alone, and in a way that Elizabeth had never experienced before. The tone was always reverent, conveyed like a caress. As though it was an intimacy which he rarely trusted himself to use without loosing control over his actions and emotions. There was not a time when she could fail to be moved by it.

Yet, while there were many positive signs of what she felt for him, there were also many negative ones. The shadow of her time with the Earl loomed over her, haunting her at the most inopportune moments in time, frequently making her doubt herself in everything.

This past would serve to remind her what little experience she had had with love, and what horrors had awaited her when she had believed herself to be in that state before. Added to this, while she enjoyed his company, she found herself not suffering any loss when she was deprived of it.

She did not wonder where he was, or worry what he might be doing. And as much as she tried to persuade herself to ignore these signs, to convince herself that she was still concerned over the Earl finding her, Elizabeth could not make the doubts go away.

And while she could not, she did not feel that she loved him.

Far away from his uncertain and confused wife, the Earl of Saffron Walden lay slumped in a chair in one of the rooms of his favourite London club; the Four Horse. He still had found nothing to indicate where she was. Her rooms contained only the dresses he had provided for her since their marriage. No forgotten correspondence, no note, nothing.

The invitation for the Fitzwilliam Lucas wedding had been the first thing he had thought to try, as soon as he had felt sober enough to appear there. But it had been unsuccessful, as he was turned away by Mr Darcy and the Matlock staff. Lord Lucius still considered that a slander upon his character. He also still believed that the fool Milburn had been lying.

His next move had been to confront the Bingleys once more. But there he had also achieved little success. The townhouse had long been shut up, and all of their relatives were likewise away from the season.

Even Miss Caroline Bingley, a woman that Lord Lucius had been, like every other eligible bachelor, glad to escape the clutches of, was not in town hunting for a gullible husband. Thus with every door in London closed to him, He returned to the Bingleys empty home, and cajoled the butler into giving out possible directions for his master's present whereabouts.

Three addresses were the results. The first, Gracechurch Street, was in Cheapside, and Lord Lucius had discounted that at once. For him, holder of one of the richest earldoms in the country, to make an appearance in that part of town would be a most profound mistake, and far more damaging to his reputation than a missing wife ever could be.

The second, like the third, were in the county of Hertfordshire, which had also presented a difficulty. Due to his membership of the Four Horse, Lord Lucius felt he was unable to go in person to the small town of Meryton, as the club had many meets coming up which he would be obliged to attend.

Unwillingly, for he disliked the past time very much, Lord Lucius had turned to letter writing, jotting off notes to his father and brother in law respectively. In them, he claimed that he had clean forgot his wife's desire to stay with either side of her family, and asked them if they would be so kind as to tell her of his willingness to join her in the county as soon as his duties in town permitted him liberty.

From the Netherfield estate, he had received immediate reply. The housekeeper of the place had answered him instead of his brother in law, informing him that Mr Charles Bingley had given up the tenancy of Netherfield Hall some time ago, and was at present touring the rest of the country for an estate to own.

No, she could not give him a definite present location.

As for Longbourn, the note received no reply for several weeks, and, just as he had begun to despair of ever receiving one, it had returned to him with instructions to correct the direction, for the courier had been unable to determine its location. Lord Lucius was still convinced that Longbourn was lying, but he was at present unable to leave London to prove otherwise.

The absence of Elizabeth caused him much annoyance, but Lord Lucius had found it bearable if he spent more and more time at his club. When he desired the 'services' only a female companion could provide, this need was happily attended to by the Four Horse, and, though perhaps less willingly, his household.

After the recent struggles from his wife, Lord Lucius had found the attention a refreshing contrast, and had indulged whenever he felt the inclination to do so. He was always aware that the absence of his wife was something he needed to rectify soon, but felt that other matters took priority at present.

When Elizabeth had been in Derbyshire almost two months, an event occurred at Pemberley that served to change her mind about her feelings, and erase forever the doubts concerning Mr Darcy.

It began unremarkably enough. They had been seated in the library, each engaged in a book, when the door had opened to admit a footman, carrying a note for his master. Darcy had taken it up and read the contents, without any alteration in his looks or manner that could be interpreted either way as to what had occurred. Silently he had risen from his chair, laid his book aside, and excused himself to the ladies.

Georgiana, the first to look up from her volume, had also been the first to realise that something was wrong. Knowing her brother as well as she did, she knew that when things were at their worst, he was the most composed. Calmly extracting the note from his hand, she read short missive inside.

Her reaction served to tip the previously unremarkable evening into something far more deadly. She gasped, causing Elizabeth to lay aside her book, and clutched at her brother's now empty hand in concern.

"William, you do not need to go," she had almost begged. "It is too dangerous."

"I must Georgie, it is my duty as master of this estate," he had replied. Bending down, he kissed her forehead, then left the room.

Miss Darcy turned to her friend with anxious eyes. "Lizzy, please go out and persuade William to come back."

"What is wrong, Georgie?" Elizabeth asked. "What is he doing?"

"There has been a fire in one of the barns on an estate farm. He is going to help."

A vision arose suddenly in Elizabeth's mind; of him walking into the flames, never to emerge again. It was enough to send her out of her chair, and into the hall.

Darcy was still there when she came out of the library, divesting himself of his formal waistcoat and dinner jacket, in exchange for hardier, warmer clothing. His steward and his valet seemed as reluctant as his sister to let him go out.

The concern must have been evident upon her face, for when he turned to look at her, his movements instantly halted, and he made his way over to her. "I shall be fine," he said in an assuring tone.

Elizabeth still had that vision in her mind, and the more it repeated itself, the worst she felt. "Georgiana is right. It is too dangerous. Your staff only came to inform you. They do not wish you to go either."

"I must," he replied, as he slid his hands into his riding gloves. "They are on my estate and thus under my care. I have to help them. I cannot sit back and do nothing." He reached out to caress her cheek, his voice deepening as he continued. "No matter the risk to my safety, nor the concern of those I love."

She felt helpless to argue further. She was not his wife, not his sister. She could not make him stay. There was only one thing she could do. "Fitzwilliam," she said softly, using his name for the first time, "be careful."

"I promise," he uttered, before his lips dropped to her own.

It was close to midnight when he returned. By then three women were waiting for him; Georgiana, refusing to go to bed until she had seen him, Mrs Reynolds, and Elizabeth. She had not been able to get that terrible vision out of her mind. Anxiously she had waited, her gaze at times fixed upon the door or the clock, willing the latter to go faster, and the former to open and reveal his form.

They moved into the Drawing Room, which had direct access to the Entrance Hall, which in turn had direct links to the servant's entrance and the front door. And it was in there, that they first heard signs that he had returned, as noises came into hearing.

Mrs Reynolds was not sure who it was that had noticed it first. Certainly Miss Elizabeth and Miss Georgiana were out of their seats at the same time. They rushed to the door, the former fumbling with the handle, then through the opening into the hallway. She followed at more sedate pace, but was no less relieved to see her master standing in the hallway, with soot the only damage to his features.

Elizabeth had seen no one but him. The minute she had fixed her gaze upon his face, the rest of the people around them faded from her view. She almost ran to his form, coming to a nervous halt before him, suddenly unsure of what she could do. He answered it by pulling her into his arms, regardless of the three servants' and his sister's presence. She felt herself wrap her arms around his neck, breathing in his scent as though it was one of the most precious things in the world to her.

He kissed her hair, then leaned back to kiss her forehead. Elizabeth looked up into his eyes, and suddenly she knew. She was in love with him.

Chapter XXVI.

"Have you?"

"No, I have not. I have only been here three days. I do not think I should."

"Why not?"

"Because once the Earl lets it be known that I have left him, and someone discovers that I am here, Society will perceive me as Mr Darcy's mistress, which will ruin his reputation."

"Lizzy, that is not a reason."

"I know. Jane, I always believed that I would marry for the deepest love, and that I would be faithful to that marriage. I abhorred women who did this."

"Lizzy, you do not love the Earl, I can see that. And he does not deserve your love, nor does he deserve your faithfulness, after all that he has done to you."

"I thought you would not approve of it, as I do."

"This is different. You love him, and he loves you. You have had so much sorrow in your life recently. You need some happiness. And I think you should take as much as you can. Society will believe whatever it wants to believe. You and he know the truth."

The recollection of this conversation awoke Elizabeth the next morning. Glancing at the still closed curtains upon the windows of her bedchamber, she realised suddenly that it was not morning, but actually coming closer to late afternoon.

She slipped out of bed, invested herself in her robe, and walked to one of the windows, pushing back the heavy curtains to reveal the seat behind them. Then she curled upon its cushions, gazing out at the view, even though her mind was determined to be quite far away from observing its values. The memory of that conversation with Jane had come into focus for a reason.

Also, in view of the events the night before. After she had realised that she was in love with Mr Darcy, their continued embrace had not lasted long. She had pulled back suddenly, concerned that she had misunderstood all this while the depth of emotion he felt for her. But there was no mistaking the look in his eyes. Instantly had they sought her own the minute she drew back, gratitude and love entwined in their dark brown depths. He had looked so pleased at her impulsive gesture.

As soon as she had discovered this however, the moment was over, for his sister had come up to obtain her hug, and then announce her decision to retire for the night. This had been followed by Mrs Reynolds insisting that they all retire; showing how easily she had once been the authority her master had to bow to when he was younger. Elizabeth had stepped away from him, blushing when she perceived some reluctance from him to let her go, then had made her way to her rooms and her bed.

And now it was late afternoon, and she was sitting in the alcove trying to sort out why her mind had brought up that particular conversation. The answer was perhaps obvious. She now knew for certain that she loved Mr Darcy. Her mind was suggesting to her now what her next move should be. But with contemplating this came a certain caution. While she knew for certain that Mr Darcy loved her, he had also made it clear that he did not expect anything from her. Would such a move as this on her part be too presumptuous?

Added to this, were her previous experiences of such a past time. The Earl had never given any consideration to her feelings concerning the occupation, not even on their wedding night. If anything, he had almost been annoyed at how little she had known about it.

While a part of her heart was trying to convince her that with Mr Darcy, it would be entirely different, the rest of her was still too nervous to believe that. Another part of her was also attempting to persuade her that such a move was completely unnecessary. She had always abhorred women who had done this, yet Jane's apparent blessing of it was beginning to make her understand that, in matters of love, abandoning all care about what others thought was appropriate.

Elizabeth remained thus until the end of the afternoon, not emerging out of her introspection until the sky had begun to darken, causing the view outside to gradually be lost to the eyes. Her mind had reached no firm decision either way that her heart could agree with it upon, but they had both resolved that she should try at least.

Moving from the window seat, she walked back into the main part of her bedchamber. The mantle clock caught her quest for it, and she observed with little amazement how much time had passed since the events of the night before. Evening was well underway.

She returned to the wall where her bed was placed, and rang the bell. Ordering herself a light supper, Elizabeth took care to discover where the other occupants of the house were. Sarah informed her that Miss Darcy, though sorry that she was not able to inform her personally, had left early in the day for Matlock, to stay with her cousin and family, the elder brother of Colonel Fitzwilliam, a vacation which had been planned for quite some time.

Mr Darcy however, had just retired to his rooms, after helping the tenants affected by the fire the night before, with the clean up of the damage that had been done. Elizabeth thanked her for this information, then asked to left alone once more.

Omens seemed to point her in the same direction as her mind. Finishing her meal, Elizabeth formed her decision, and began her preparations.

Like the woman that held his heart, Darcy was also thoughtful this evening. After hearing that she was still asleep when he had finally arisen late morning, Darcy had made sure that no one disturbed her, then paid farewell to his sister.

When she had gone, he had contemplated going up to her room and seeking her out, but had quickly disbanded that idea, knowing it to be presumptuous. Yet he still wondered about her gesture of last night. Dare he hope that she was beginning to feel the same feeling that he had long felt for her?

His question would remain unanswered for now, as there came a knock at the door. Uttering his permission for whoever it was outside to come in, Darcy had never even contemplated who it might be, until they were standing before him. For weeks he had left her alone, offering only safety and companionship.

Until now, when she entered his room.

He turned at her entrance, his glance changing from surprise to barely withheld desire, as he surveyed the gown she was wearing; from her previous wardrobe, not her present. The kind reserved for a sumptuous ball, not a seduction. He understood the message within all too well. He breathed deeply, hesitation suddenly overriding all his other emotions.

Coming to him as she had, not now, but weeks before in London, accepting his offer of protection from her husband, made this event inevitable. Yet he did not think himself a worthy undertaker. She needed to know that marriage was not always a prison of Hades; but at this moment, he did not believe himself to be the best tutor. Somehow, he stepped closer to her, taking her hands and gazing into her fine eyes. "Oh, my dearest love."

It would only be later, when her fear became a distant memory that he would learn how much difference just those four words had made. For now they were only an involuntary utterance, unintended for vocal release, and all he received in reply were her startled gasp and the expression in her gazing eyes, as she struggled to comprehend his confession of the depth of feeling he felt for her, and the new meaning it gave to what lay between them.

"Please," she softly implored.

Darcy had not meant to consent. Noble refusal had been his rational decision, but instead he found himself realising once again how with her, his rationale went out the window. He stepped even closer, placing her hands upon his waistcoat over his heart, which threatened to deafen him at every pulse. Bending his head ever so slightly, he kissed her for the fourth time.

Unlike their first, it was not a impassioned declaration. Tenderness intermixed with a gentleness that seemed to speak to the very depths of her soul, in a tongue only they two understood. Faced with such an enticement, it was impossible for her not to respond. She answered him with all the innocence and modesty of a maiden, a title she was worthy of, for never before had anyone awoken her this much.

A heart, his, leapt in reply. Hands, his, moved from their place on hers to her neck, then up into her hair. One by one the pins slipped to the floor, the sound not disturbing the silent rush of intense emotion which had surrounded them. It was then that he pulled back from her lips, needing both to breathe and to see her with her dark tresses released from confinement.

She gazed back him uncomprehendingly, believing it was time for the move to the large and, to her mind, rather imposing four post bed which lay in the middle of the wall behind them. Yet he held her so close, his hands fast upon her waist that she could not break away. Her own hands, still on his waistcoat, felt the deep pounding of his heart, and wondered why he felt as nervous as she.

Breaking the silence between them he spoke, emotion levied words. "If at any time my actions mirror his, even in the slightest way, let me know and we will stop. Promise?"

Unable to speak, she nodded, and he bent to kiss her again. His hands moved from her waist, caressing their way to the back and sleeve fastenings of her dress, gently easing each clip apart. At the moment of the last one being loosed, the gown, so low cut and off-shoulder, slipped from her arms to pool at her feet. Another moment passed and he pulled back from her lips to survey her once again.

Her beauty almost floored him, and, not settling for total defeat, rendered him speechless instead. In reflex her hands moved from their place to attempt to cover herself, coming to hide her rouged nipples,¹ spurring him into motion. He reached out and clasped them in his own, softly uttering, "no, no," in his deep voice. Then he realised that the Earl had never seen her naked, else she would not have reacted in this way.

Taking her hands more firmly in his own, Darcy led her to the bed and sat her down. Placing them palm down on the coverlet, he moved to stand before her. Securing her eyes with his, Darcy divested himself of his clothing. Another revelation revealed itself to him thus; she had never seen a man in his natural either. Her eyes widened as they observed the whole of him, encountering the size of his desire with only a slight notion as to its motive for its position.

Keeping it in check, he sat beside her, waiting until her eyes were once again level with his. Involuntarily his hands moved to cup her face, his thumbs caressing the edge of her jawbone. A long look passed between them, as he sought acceptance for his next move, and she, uncertain as to what it would be, returned puzzlement.

He bent forward and caught her lips for a third time. On this occasion however, they did not stay there long. Gently they moved from hers to her neck, then, as she leaned her head back instinctively, in a winding journey to her breasts.

She uttered her first gasp of pleasure when they fastened upon her nipples, sucking away the rouge, spreading its remnants over her chest, then licking it clean. Instinct, the only emotion she had the strength to rely upon, made her move her hands to his hair, fiddling with the curled, unruly strands, which only seemed to increase the intensity of his present occupation.

His own hands also did not remain stationary, moving to her waist, then to replace his lips when they at last gave up their present fixation and moved on to her abdomen. Alternating between cupping each orb and teasing each nipple, his body covering the rest of hers below, she could only determine by sensation alone when he moved to kiss and lick another piece of her flesh.

She shuddered when he reached her thighs, not in fear, but in curious anticipation as to what could come next. A whine of regret escaped her lips as his hands left her breasts, and moved to her legs, gently but firmly shifting them apart until her left foot came to rest under her right knee. Holding her thighs in place, his lips continued their pilgrimage until she was lying down on the bed.

Reluctantly Darcy ceased his journey and moved to place her legs upon the bed, so she was more comfortable. Then he resumed his holy travel, beginning from her abdomen slowly up to her lips. The response that met them was beyond every dream he had ever imagined for this moment. His heart leapt at the pleasure of receiving her desire, at the revelation that she was no longer thinking that she owed this to him, her gallant knight for rescuing her. Only when he needed to breathe did he break from them, his blissful exultation showing upon his face and through his eyes into hers.

"Darling, are you ready?" He asked her huskily, receiving, to his joy, a soft murmured agreement in reply. His hands moved from where they had been since they had laid on the bed, continuously caressing her sides, to part her thighs and allow his straining manhood admittance. Cautiously he placed the tip at the edge of her inner chamber, his eyes watching her own, ready to withdraw if any fear appeared.

None did. Tenderly, he slid himself inside, coming to a halt only at the point where it opened into her womb. No revulsion met the motion. He felt her tighten around him, as her body overtook her mind, instinctively knowing how to respond.

Shifting down then up, he began the ancient, timeless rhythm of love, his hands moving to fondle her breasts once more, until her body cried for his as much as his own did for hers. Keeping her eyes captured with his own, he cried out her name, filling her with his fluid, as hers came to wash over him, seeping to the edge of their joining and beyond.

Afterwards, as he loomed above her, as they strove to catch their breath, he remained inside her, reluctant to part from the deepest feeling of contentment that he had ever known. Aware that his weight could crush her, he rolled them into the middle of the bed, wrapping her above him in his arms.

His hands tangled themselves in her hair, cradling her head so it faced his own, so his searching eyes could silently ask if she were okay. Flushed and exhausted by the intensity of emotion due to their exertion, she gazed back at him with puzzled disconcertion.

"What was that?" She asked.

He smiled at her lovingly, tenderly. "That, dearest heart, was lovemaking. Do you approve?"

She blushed, unable to answer anything but 'yes' in reply. "Can we...." she trailed off, embarrassed to finish the rest of her enquiry.

He guessed the direction of her thoughts. "Do it again? Until we tire ourselves out from the exertion, my love."

By the time dawn broke over Pemberley, its sunlight streaming through the window of the Master State Bedchamber, the muslin curtains had long been drawn around the four poster piece of furniture, lessening the intensity of its rays.

Immersed in the silken sheets the couple lay still embraced as before, despite moving from the position several times during the passage of the night. The Master of Pemberley kissed the Countess' wondrous dark hair, and then asked the question that had been puzzling him from the first moment of her surprise, hoping that their new found easiness with each other bodies would grant him an answer.

"What did he do to you?"

There was a hesitation, short in reality, but tortuously long to him, so long that he regretted ever asking, then she answered in a detached quiet voice. "It was only once like that, and in Kent, after your Aunt had commented on the lack of children. Yet it felt as awful as all the other times."

She paused to leave the sanctuary of his arms, rolling on to her front, showing him what the man before him had done. When she had returned to his embrace, she continued. "Sometimes he would press me so hard into the pillow I would begin to suffocate. Sometimes I wished that I would, so I would no longer have to endure him." She paused, catching the look in his eyes. "Are you angry?"

"With him, my love, not you," he replied, his hands caressing her skin, tracing circles on to her. "You are his wife, and by the law of land required to submit. But that is no reason for him to treat you thus." He paused, trying to contain his emotions, so the violence of them would not frighten her. "Was there ever a time when you tried to resist him?"

"In the beginning, when I realised he did not love me, and that I could not be in love with him, as I thought I was, I fought him. But he soon increased his..... will upon me, to the extent that I no longer had the strength to resist. That last night in Kent, and the night before I came to you, were the only times since then that I found the courage to fight again." She sighed suddenly, leaning against him.

"What is it, my love?" He asked instantly.

"You are angry with him, I am angry with myself. I used to be so strong. My father taught me the excellence of a good wit, an intelligent mind. He taught me to believe in my opinions, and to uphold them. Before my marriage I was a lively, happy, strong person. I resisted anyone whose advances or attentions I did not welcome.

"I also promised myself that I would never marry but for the deepest of loves. Faced with the example of my parent's marriage each day, I knew I would want something different to what they had. How did I not see that the Earl would only lead me into one that was even worse."

"You thought yourself to be in love," Darcy answered after awhile, inwardly cursing the Earl for reducing her to this state. "And when we fall in love, we are very vulnerable. He used that to his advantage, disillusioning you and then imposing himself before you had time to recover. There is no need for you to be angry at yourself. You did not have the chance until now to recognise a possibility of escape." He paused to press a kiss on her skin. "What else, aside from the bruises I once saw, did he do to you?"

"Once, he, took, me across a piano stool. In Kent he almost strangled me." She paused, looking up as he uttered a curse upon her husband. "Fitzwilliam, I am fine. That was in the past. He can no longer get to me."

"And I shall do everything in my power to make sure he never does," Darcy vowed, before moving to kiss her, ending all conversation for a while.

When they parted in order to recover the ability to breathe, Elizabeth uttered a gasp as her mind realised what hour the clock was sounding out. She made moves to rise, but he quickly forestalled her. "There is no need to get up," he said.

"But it is almost midday. What about the servants?"

He kissed away her sudden embarrassment. "No one will disturb us my love, unless I ring for them to do so. As far as I am concerned, I have no desire for either of us to move from my rooms for quite some time. Unless you wish to try this in your chambers."

"You are proposing that we stay here for the rest of the day?"

"And more, if we so desire it. Why are you shocked? This is perfectly normal. At least between those who are in love." He kissed her again, his hands stroking her skin. "My sister will not be back until the end of the month, and the household is most discreet. There is no reason for us to quit from here, unless we wish to." He cupped her face. "Do you wish to leave? Answer only what is in your heart."

Elizabeth thought back over all they had done since she had entered his room. Not for one moment had she ever expected that it would be anything like that. None of the terror that she had always experienced had ever come to her mind during this blissful revelling. Did she really want to put an end to such pleasure so soon? "Let's stay," she decided, impulsively moving to kiss him, wishing to repeat their actions once more.

Darcy was only too happy to oblige. Cradling her in his arms, he rolled them over, making the world outside fade away once more, as they focused only on each other.

1. This was a common form of makeup in those times, my source is Bernard Cornwell's Sharpe's Waterloo.

Chapter XXVII.

Elizabeth opened her eyes, and found, for the first time since she had decided to come to him, that he was not watching her already, waiting for her to join him in the waking world. She smiled, quietly shifted her arm so she could rest her face upon her hand, and began the occupation he had often be so engaged in whenever she woke.

His eyes were closed, his hair ruffled. He was the picture of contentment. Her mind brought images of how they had spent- how many days had it been now? she had long since lost count -the past days in his bed, causing a blush to grace her cheek. He, it seemed, could not get enough of her. And, much to her surprise, she could not get enough of him.

She had never realised before that love could be so pleasurable. He only had to touch her with one finger, and she was lost. Swept away in arousing passion, as they did things that had previously been unknown, even to her imagination. She was so glad now, that she had decided to come to him.

Silently she moved her eyes past his face, down to his bare chest, as far the sheets upon them both allowed. To this day she still did not know how the Earl compared to the man sleeping beside her, but nor did she really care. Fitzwilliam was her life now, and all the better for it. Her past knowledge of lovemaking seemed so unnatural, in light of all he had taught her. The past had been white night-shirts and terror, the present was bare flesh and pleasure.

She let her fingers run an invisible trail down his middle, beyond the sheets, and smiled as he opened his eyes. He greeted her good morning with a look, then bent his head briefly to observe her exploring fingers. A second later he shuddered as they reached the already aroused heart of his desire, and he captured her into his arms, rolling her beneath him.

They had made love only a couple of hours or so ago, but, as she had properly surmised, he could not get enough of her. Entering her immediately, he settled for worshipping her lips, too aroused to prolong the moment by foreplay.

Afterwards, when his body had found the energy required, he let his hands begin a journey well-known to them now, but still infinitely fascinating. His eyes watched hers, observing, memorising each expression his touch brought, as his mind marvelled at his adeptness in bringing her pleasure, and at the extent of his luck.

He had never dreamt that this moment would come so soon. When she had come to him that night of the fire, spoken his name, and asked him to be careful, he had not expected anything of what had come, to follow. He had not been able to believe at first that she was in his arms, when he had returned later that night.

Even now he vividly picture that moment he held her close, the smell of her hair, mixed with flowered perfume. How his mind had been occupied in trying to convince the rest of him that it was not a dream.

His fingers found her nipples, causing her to gasp and whimper as he made them even harder. Events since that night his mind had become full of memories, as his hours filled with more pleasure and more joy than he had ever known. The following night he had spent mostly awake, occupied in watching her sleep, and marvelling over the reality that had been their joining.

He did not care that, in the eyes of the outside world, she was now his mistress. As far as he was concerned, that night had been their wedding night, and their first time their marriage. Once again, his mouth smiled at the thought of that, and he bent down to worship her breast with it. His hands moved downwards, caressing her until her own had reached to pull him level with her, so they could become one again.

Pemberley had been content so far to let them shut out the rest of the world. His household was so efficient that it could run for months without requiring him, and Darcy intended to make the most of that time. Georgiana was not coming back until the first week in August, giving them almost eight weeks where no one or nothing would interrupt their present, blissful solitude.

Darcy was glad his household was trained to be so discreet, even though this was the first time they had called by him to be so. He was not like the rest of the so called gentlemen in his social circles. Before Elizabeth, there had only been one, during his Grand Tour. He had never had any but the woman presently beneath him, in England.

This had been his personal choice, one born out of inclination, and not a desire to copy his peers. Besides, it would have been a bad example while he was in the position of bringing up his sister. Though now he was still engaged in that task, his sister was soon to be in society, and was of an age to understand his actions.

Before Elizabeth, he had even disapproved of the practice. Yet now, as they lay together, he found no guilt within himself about it. He was not using her for his own pleasure. They loved each other, and only wished to show how much. He was not cuckolding her husband out of lust, he had rescued her from the life she had hated.

She had come to him out of her own free will. He did not even want to rationalise the actions he was taking or attempt to explain them to anyone. Not because he feared their response, or feared that they would not understand, but because he realised that there was no need. Society's morals, rules, thoughts and opinions did not matter to him.

They were in love. It was that simple.

He gathered her into his arms, a smile gracing his features as he noticed how willingly she came. "I love you, Elizabeth," he uttered, as her eyes came to gaze into his own.

She caught the need for a smile, returning it, as she replied, "I love you, Fitzwilliam."

His expression seemed to grow even more intense, and his hands began wondering upon her skin again. "I love the way you say my name. How is it no one but you can say it and touch my heart to such a degree?" He paused. "I don't even think I want to know the answer. Are you content, my love?"

"I am," she acknowledged, the truth of the statement showing in her shining fine eyes. "So much so, that I am having difficulty remembering a time when I was not."

"That was my intention," he said, "to make you forget your past. To think of it only as your remembrance gives you pleasure."

"I am glad that you did so, and that I decided to let you in. I never want those times again." She paused to change the subject. "How many days do you suppose we have spent here?"

"You mean the ones spent only moving out of here to eat in the anteroom next door?" He sought to confirm, smiling as she nodded and blushed. "Twelve, so far, I believe. Do you wish us to continue so?"

"Surely we cannot remain like this until your sister returns?"

"We can, if you wish. The household is quite capable of running without me, and will only disturb if there are any emergencies. There is no one here to judge us but ourselves, Elizabeth. And no one will ever know about it, but ourselves." He grinned suddenly as an idea occurred to him. "Or we could explore the many hidden nooks about the grounds. It is after all, the perfect weather."

"You are wicked!" She replied, without any complaint. "You take great delight in shocking me!"

"Quite the contrary, my dear. I take great delight in making love to you." He shifted their positions so she lying on top of him. "I can't get enough of you, Elizabeth. If it were possible, I would make sure we never left this room. The world could go to hell." He kissed her, tangling his hands in her hair. She parted her legs across him, and they entered those blissful motions once again.

Chapter XXVIII.

The days passed, each appearing to Elizabeth more beautiful than the ones before it. Never before had she ever felt such contentment, nor even believed it to have existed.

She was in love, and that love had not been unrequited, or disappointed, or disillusioned. It mattered no longer the knowledge that society would frown upon it, even though most of its gentlemen were followers of such a fashion. As her lover himself had said; they were in love, what did it matter what others thought? It was uncertain that no one even knew about them.

Derbyshire seemed, so far, a world away. Pemberley was truly charmed; for no Earl, and no news had reached them yet, meaning their scandal still went unheard of. Elizabeth doubted this not. She knew that her family would have sent her news through Jane by now, if the fact that she had ran away from her husband to another man's bed had been made known to them through either the Earl or the newspapers.

But still she feared that her present harmony was about to end. Not because of the inference of the Earl, or the possibility of the newspapers obtaining the information about their present location, but because of another reason altogether. Over a month had passed now since she had first sought Darcy's bed. Not one night of lovemaking had been at any point interrupted by her cycle.

Elizabeth had only been married for three years, but she knew well what that meant, even though such a thing had never occurred with the man who was actually her husband. The moment she had realised, a horrible fear had crept into her mind, which nothing had been able to chase away.

It was not the done thing, for mistresses to become with child. Even though it occurred often enough. But the end of the affair always followed afterwards, leaving the woman usually alone forever. Unless they could persuade their husband, if they were married, to accept the child as their own, their future fate was a poorhouse and destitution. Her heart tried to insist that Darcy would never be such a man, but her mind could not be convinced to believe it.

So she continued as normal, spending her days in his bed and by his side, thankful that she possessed no other symptoms, and praying that he would notice not. Her thoughts were much preoccupied with the knowledge, and her dreams had often set her married to him, letting the news be told with joy, instead of sorrow.

Usually, sleep was the only time they were allowed to rain unfettered, for when she was awake, he would pull her into his arms, and his lips and hands would unknowingly strive to make her forget everything but him.

Now was not one of those times, but it had come soon after such an event. Lounging beside her, Darcy was drawing circles upon the parts of her bare skin that the sheets did not cover. She was reading a letter from his sister, which had audaciously been addressed to the both of them, under the cover of usual directions to her brother.

In it Georgiana detailed all she had been doing with her Aunt and Uncle since she last wrote, along with any news she might have. It seemed, Elizabeth was forced to note, the month for additions, as Jane and now Charlotte were also expecting. She had learned of the former's only a day before she had begun to suspect the same for herself, and now she was learning of the latter's through her sister in law, as Georgiana had signed herself.

Sister in law?

"Fitzwilliam," she began now, as the meaning of those words suddenly became clear to her, "why does your sister refer to me with the same kinship?"

Darcy blushed, ceasing his circle drawing, and looking down at the rumple sheets around them, as he strove for enough composure to answer the question. "I fear I have a confession to make, my love. From the moment you came to my house in London, I have endeavoured to make sure that my households regard you with the respect that I feel you deserve. And I with the title I wish you held." He resumed his circles.

Elizabeth looked at him in surprise as he confirmed the suspicions which his sister had arose. "You regard me as your wife?"

Still occupied in stroking various areas of bare skin, Darcy smiled as he answered. "Yes. Though not because that would make me a de facto Earl." He raised his eyes to gaze earnestly at hers. "I'm in love with you, Elizabeth. And I would do anything to protect you. I cannot think of better reasons to regard someone I feel that way about as my wife." seeing her smile at that, Darcy returned to his previous occupation, opening with a trail of kisses down the valley between her breasts.

Reaching her abdomen he prepared to continue that trail, when he noticed something that made him stop. It occurred to him that there was a subtle difference in her, a difference that he realised now had been coming on so gradually, that he had hardly knew, but held a suspicion to the cause.

Carefully, so as not to let her detect his actions, he turned to kiss her so he could put an ear to her skin. After awhile he confirmed what he had thought, upon which he bestowed a reverent kiss upon her belly. Then he once more raised his eyes to her. "Why did you not tell me?"

Elizabeth feigned innocence. "Tell you what?"

Darcy laid a hand on her abdomen, his eyes never moving from her face. "I know, Lizzy. Why did you not tell me? Did you think I would be angry?"

Elizabeth would not look at him as she nodded. "You may think I am your wife, but in the eyes of the law and of everyone else, I am your mistress, which makes this child illegitimate, and therefore a nuisance."

Darcy did not even blink as he replied to her. "Elizabeth, tell me again what I discovered. Tell me again."

Confused, but willing, Elizabeth obeyed. "Fitzwilliam, I am carrying your child."

Darcy smiled, then moved up to place a gentle loving kiss upon her lips. "I love you, my darling," he uttered emphatically. Then he moved down again to place another reverent kiss to her abdomen. "And I love you, heir to all I possess."

The phrase caught Elizabeth immediately, as Darcy had meant her to be. "Elizabeth," he continued, looking up at her, "whether you are my wife is legal in the eyes of everyone else and the law, I don't care. The same goes for the children we will have. This child will be my heir, my Will allows for it. I will cherish her or him for as long as I live."

Elizabeth could not help but smile at him. "I do not know what I have done to deserve you," she decided in a voice choked with emotion.

"Nothing but being yourself," Darcy firmly replied. He pressed another kiss to her abdomen, then moved upwards to make himself level with her once more. "I did not think I could be happier, until a few moments ago. Thank you, my darling, for being brave enough to risk everything in order for this to occur."

"It is strange; I know we have risked, but no evidence has yet to come of it. I do not mean to openly tempt such evidence, but I had expected something to happen by now."

"You are right, it is strange." Darcy paused, the information he just learnt to be true passing through his head once again. It seemed his mind was not ready to believe it yet. "I choose to count that as a blessing however. Pemberley has sprung its enchantment once more. While we are sequestered in its walls, nothing but good can touch us." He kissed her.

Rapidly, their passion flared, and Darcy found himself in the middle before he knew they had even begun. His hands caressed her breasts, his thumbs brushing her hard nipples. She whimpered in pleasure, and he rolled her gently under him. As he entered her, he felt that this time was different somehow. The knowledge that she carried their child inside her, made it more precious, more tender.

His mind imagined an image, of her great with child, his love for her increasing in reply. He knew that this put them more at risk now. That, if they were discovered by the Earl, Elizabeth would be in even greater danger. Instantly his heart made a vow to protect her even more, to double the watch on his land. He was not going to let the Earl get to her now, not just as all his dreams had become reality.

He felt sigh beneath him, causing him to come out of his thoughts, and finish making his oath. Reluctant to part, he remained inside her, catching her fine eyes with his own. "Nothing will come between us, Elizabeth. I swear upon everything I hold dear to ensure that no one drives us apart."

"Let them try," Elizabeth replied, her voice equally emotional, "for I would not part from you for any one or any thing in the world."

Carefully, making sure they were still joined, he moved to her side, and wrapped his arms loosely around her. Silently he stared into her dark eyes, his mind conjuring up a prayer. He prayed for an unchristian thing. He prayed for the death of the Earl. For if Elizabeth were free, he would be able to protect her for the rest of his life, by marrying her. And their child would grow up without the name of bastard connected to him or her.

Not that he would ever call their child by such a thing himself. As he had said to Elizabeth, his Will allowed for such an instance, and he had regarded them as married the moment they had first made love. The child she carried inside her was a most precious gift, to be cherished by them, he was determined, forever.

Volume eight.