Her Husband's Affection: A Pride & Prejudice Sensual Variation

Chapter 1

Elizabeth settled her precious burden in his cradle, taking a moment to smooth a finger over his soft cheek. Tears pricked her eyes. Nine months after the birth of their first child and she was still quite overcome with emotion. At one point she'd thought herself destined to become a spinster, unable to find love with a man whom she could enjoy mutual respect and affection. She certainly had not thought to find such an amiable, loving husband in Fitzwilliam Darcy, nor a doting father for all his stern exterior. Now she was both wife and mother, settled in a situation which she would never have anticipated.

She pressed a hand to her middle and smiled at little Darcy's nurse. "Pray, send a maid when he awakes, I wish to take him for a turn in the garden. Fresh air and sunlight are so beneficial for his constitution."

The nurse curtsied. "Yes, ma'am."

Elizabeth left the nursery, her smile fading. Marriage was both more and, lately, less than she had hoped. She wanted for nothing, and her husband was as attentive to her needs as the day they were married. Despite all outward appearances of domestic felicity, in past months she had sensed in him a disturbing distance. A seriousness when she caught him studying her before he could shift his expression to something more pleasant.

Was he regretting their marriage? Now that his heir was born, did he feel her presence to be . . . superfluous? She meant to put the very thing to him and demand he respond. Respect and honest communication were vital to any happy union and she would not have her marriage go the way of so many others among their class. Cold, two people bound together only by courtesy and shared familial duties.

She found him in his study, sitting behind the ancestral oak desk, a stern, imposing figure. Mr. Darcy, master of all he surveyed. Her mood must have been plain on her face, for when he glanced up he paused, brow rising.

"My dear," he said, rising. "Something disturbs you. Is William well?"

She met him halfway, lifting her face to meet his kiss. A light, perfunctory touch before he pulled away, taking her by the elbow to a small, elegant seating area in front of a large window overlooking the grounds.

"Shall I ring for tea?" he asked, eyes narrowing as he examined her critically. Once upon a time his intense scrutiny had quite put her back up but, she supposed, she was used to it by now. At least she was certain in his strong affection for her.

Or at least, she had been certain of such affection.

"No, I intend on sharing a light luncheon with William once he awakes from his nap."

"Very good. Now tell me what it is which bothers you."

She loosened her jaw from its instinctual clenching. "I feel there is something wrong between us, Darcy. I mean to get to the bottom of it."

His expression cooled. She may be his wife, but Mr. Darcy did not take kindly to any who challenged him. His arrogance could, during the appropriate intimate occasion, be quite thrilling. But in broad daylight and without the wine of passion running through their veins, it was merely vexing.

"I am certain I have no idea what you mean, Mrs. Darcy."

Elizabeth glared at the distinct avoidance of her Christian name.

She placed her hands in her lap to avoid clutching the arms of her chair and indulging in the most unladylike behavior of shouting at him.

"I understand fully that any marriage will go through a natural cooling period as a husband and wife become used to, and occasionally intolerant of, each other's company, even if not constant. But I feel in our case, this period has come far too soon and may be for a reason you have yet to apprise me of."

Darcy rose. "Elizabeth, you are being ridiculous. I feel as strongly for you now as I did on the day we wed. Perhaps new motherhood has engendered in you an understandable sensitivity of feeling which you did not previously possess."

Elizabeth rose slowly. The insult did not escape her attention. She narrowed her eyes, "Are you calling me silly?"

His eyes widened, affronted. He took a small step back and turned smoothly away from her to disguise the wise retreat. "Of course not, Lizzy."

"Oh, so now I am Lizzy? It was Mrs. Darcy, then Elizabeth, and now that your wits have caught up with your tongue . . .I am now again Lizzy."

He turned on his heel. "What do you want, wife?"

She smiled. Now they were getting somewhere. It only took several minutes of vexing him to wear down the barrier he had erected around his heart. She knew her husband well.

"I want you to tell me what is wrong between us." She held up a hand, sharply forestalling his response. "But for now . . .I want a promise that we will enjoy each other's company this evening."

Darcy stilled. The inflection of her words left no uncertainty as to her meaning. Sunlight cut through the window, adding auburn highlights to his rich dark hair and throwing the sharp, elegant bones of his face in relief. Again, his handsome repose nearly took her breath. That she had somehow, and completely without intention, captured such a man—it was intolerable now after all the trouble they had gone to in order to wed, that he ruin it.

Absolutely intolerable.

"I have a business engagement this evening, Elizabeth. Perhaps I can attend you tomorrow evening."

She froze inside, expression icing over. She executed a perfect curtsy and swept from the room.

So it was to be war.

***

Dear, foolish, Lizzy. Not sweet, never sweet, but most certainly dear.

Darcy stood in front of the window as he stared out at the grounds of Pemberley, a certainty in his heart so strong that he could not share it with her.

If he ever lost her, he did not think life would be bearable.

He loved his son, had been astonished by the force of his own emotions the day of his heir's birth. Who knew such a small creature could inspire such a violent torrent of feeling? He had held his boy in his arms, fierce joy overtaking him even as terror faded and reason returned.

Darcy could never allow Lizzy to go through the horror of childbirth again.

His hand curled into a fist, body clenching as he remembered the low, animal-like moans of pain. His cousin and sister had tried to keep him away, but he had paced the hall like a caged animal, wanting to howl his frustration and beat down the door. It was common for women to die in childbirth, his own mother slipped away after bringing forth Georgiana. He could not endure it if the same happened to his wife.

But Darcy had known this reckoning was coming. The first several weeks of her convalescence after giving birth had seen her fully engrossed in the care of their son. It was several more months after until she seemed to notice, gradually, how he had distanced himself. It agonized him. The nightly torture of keeping himself away from his wife soured his mood and the only outlet for his violent restraint was to ride, and hunt, and in general avoid Lizzy as much as possible, for he could not be in her presence and not desire her. Crave her.

As her vitality had returned along with a new shapeliness of form, life became torture. However, he would endure this because the alternative was for Lizzy to again fall with child . . .and the next time she might not survive.

If Darcy told her his fears, she would scoff and set to change his mind utilizing her usual strength of will, intelligence, and sensual wifely wiles to persuade him. He had not the strength to refuse her if she set her mind to it. What man could, even to save the life of his own wife? He was merely a weak mortal. He loved Elizabeth desperately and thought her the most beautiful creature walking earth.

Darcy grit his teeth. She would try to corner him tonight, he was certain of it. The best thing to do was to leave.

She would murder him when she found out.