Epilogue #3
“I have more love in my heart for you than the dear Lord should permit a woman to know. I want to be yours, William, in every way possible.”
They remained staring into each other’s eyes for several long moments. Then Darcy lowered his mouth to hers. This kiss spoke of hunger and need. “You know, Vixen, once I have you, I will want you again and again. I am a starving man.You must suffer my attentions for a lifetime.”
Elizabeth stroked the side of his face with the back of her hand. “I want to feel your skin touching mine,” she whispered.
Two heartbeats later, Darcy stripped away the shirt, and then he draped himself over her. “I will be gentle,” he murmured.
“I do not fear you, William. How could a person fear love?”
“Look, Mama,” the girl called as she twirled in place.
“You are an excellent dancer, Lydia.” Elizabeth sat on a blanket and watched the child playing barefoot on the bank of the lake. The day was sunny, and it called to them to be outside.
The girl stepped left and right and pretended to curtsy to an unknown partner. “Come dance with me, Mama.”
Happily, Elizabeth rose to stand with the child in the clearing.
Taking the girl’s hands, she counted, “One and two and three and four,” as they sidestepped over the carefully manicured lawn.
Her daughter’s curly auburn hair bounced in ringlets, which bobbed to an imaginary tune.
What started as a giggle soon turned into fits of bold laughter.
“Would you prefer to dance with me, Miss Lydia?” Darcy stepped from behind one of the nearby trees. He was covered in road dirt, but his appearance pleased both the ladies. He was pure masculinity.
“Papa!” the girl’s arms came up in a hug as he scooped her into his embrace. “I am so glad you are home.”
He planted a kiss on the side of the child’s cheek. She might have her mother’s hair and build, but Lydia Darcy was his child, right down to her icy blue eyes.
“Will you dance with me, Papa?”
“Permit me to greet your mother first, child.” He leaned to the right and placed a lingering kiss on Elizabeth’s upturned mouth. “Did you miss me also, Mrs. Darcy?”
“From the moment you rode off to Matlock.”
Darcy smiled that special smile Elizabeth had learned was only directed towards her. “The earl and her ladyship forward their regard. They will join us at Michaelmas.”
“Excellent.” Elizabeth moved to the blanket. “Mr. Bingley and Jane will arrive next week. They are most eager to meet their nephew.”
“How is George?” he asked as she picked up the squirming infant.
“Edward is perfect,” she corrected as she brought the child to his father for his admiration.
Darcy rolled his eyes. “The child was named after my father, Elizabeth.” He turned back the corner of the blanket to look at the screwed-up face of his son.
“After your father and your cousin. I just prefer to remember the living.” She swayed to quiet the child’s protests.
“Will I ever win another argument?” he asked good-heartedly.
Elizabeth laughed lightly. “Likely not, but I promise you will not suffer from the defeat.”
Darcy bestowed another kiss on her lips. Then he turned to the child he still held in his arms. He placed her little feet on the tops of his boots. Lydia’s head barely came to his knees. “Would you hum for us, Elizabeth?”
She began to sing “Lord Thomas and Fair Ellender.” Darcy’s head shot up in surprise, but his daughter sang the words, too, and so he, dutifully, stepped into a sweeping waltz.
Lydia, happy to be the center of attention, laughed and sang until he lifted her to him and she combed the air with her chubby legs.
“I love you, Papa,” she proclaimed, her declaration of love mixed with wet kisses on his cheek and a giggling fit of joy.
“You were laughing in your sleep.” Holding her to him, Darcy kissed the end of her nose. They had known intimacies twice, but he wanted her again.
“Mmm.” Her sleepy sigh was a delight to behold.
“It was a good dream, then?” He placed a line of kisses along her neck and shoulder.
Elizabeth rolled into his embrace and slipped her arms around his neck. Another deep sigh spoke of her contentment. “We were at Pemberley, and we were in love.”
“We are in love,” he corrected. “Now, in the present, and in the future. The past belongs to Ellender and Arawn. Ours will be the new legend.”
“Then you hold no regrets?” she murmured against his neck.
“I would not mind being permitted to win an argument occasionally,” he mumbled as he nibbled on her neck.
“You never stood a chance, you know.”
“I know,” he said in resignation.
“It was a glorious battle, though, do you not think?” Elizabeth wriggled her body against his.
Darcy’s every sense was lost to her. “I succumbed too easily,” he countered. “However, I should make note you do not play fair.”
“It would bode well for you to remember that fact in the future, Mr. Darcy. I thought you learned your lesson during the snowstorm.”
“In my defense, you distracted me both times.” By now, his mouth drifted down her body.
“You realize you will pay for such treachery.” He brushed his mouth over the swell of her breasts before returning to her lips.
“I never thought I would know contentment. You changed my life, Elizabeth. You made me whole.” The kiss deepened, and the hunger of a lifetime settled between them.
Historical Note
“Lord Thomas and Fair Ellender” ~ The traditional Scottish ballad known as “Lord Thomas and Fair Ellender” has many versions.
Some even call it “The Brown Girl.” It is currently listed as one of the ballads brought back into circulation by Francis J.
Child, a renowned “songcatcher.” The story behind the ballad dates to the time of Charles II.
There are Irish, Scottish, and English versions of the song, as well as similar stories in Norse and European folklore.