Till the End of Time, Mr Darcy

by Erin Berkeley

  The Bennet sisters were filled with horror as they had prior to this intelligence, never considered Wickham a gamester.

  “And it is with this man, Lydia has run away,” Mary said in a pitying voice and added that she always considered Wickham too pretentious in his effusiveness.

  Elizabeth was confounded. Even in light of the elopement, she always blamed Lydia. Never had she once considered Wickham to be a wicked fellow and she certainly would have given no credit to this intelligence about him had it not come directly from her uncle.

  Mr. Gardiner added in his letter, that they might expect to see their father at home on the morrow, which was Saturday wheretofore Mr. Gardiner would wholesomely take responsibility for the search. It was therefore arranged that Mrs. Gardiner and the children should go to London, at the same time that Mr. Bennet came from it using the same coach in the process.

  Mrs. Gardiner did not go away without a talk in private with Elizabeth, and urged her dearest niece to rethink her option. “The longer Lydia is missing, the more harm comes to your family,” said she to Elizabeth. “Surely, you do not want your other sisters to suffer on account of a wrong within your power to amend.”

  And these words, along with Jane’s, left Elizabeth in the most undecided state of grief and confusion.

  Chapter Six

  Mr. Bennet arrived at Longbourn the next day and barely had he tied his horses and begun to apprise his family about his journey did Mr. Darcy came riding upon the path.

  None was as much surprised as Elizabeth herself to see him.

  Before he appeared, Elizabeth had been very much worried that her father should have heard about the disgrace she brought upon the family and prayed for her mother’s silence upon the matter until she gained his attention in seclusion.

  Her prayer appeared to be granted as Mrs. Bennet was too excited to know how fared his search for her favourite daughter and did not appear least concerned about Elizabeth’s presence in the room. “Tell us, Mr. Bennet, tell us this instant!” she cried as soon as her husband entered upon the house. “Have they married? Is my poor Lydia well?”

  Her husband replied in the negative, “Lydia and Wickham are still at their most elusive though my brother, Mr. Gardiner, has assured me that he had enlisted a person’s help whose connections cannot fail to locate them.”

  Elizabeth wondered at who this person could be.

  The reassurance seemed to placate her mother a little and then, she saw Elizabeth. “Mr. Bennet, you would not believe what else has happened upon your absence. Dear me, I have had the most serious frights and my nerves have been run away all these days, but when your own children begin to cause you such unmerited pain...” here she shuddered and threw Elizabeth such an angry look.

  Elizabeth dreaded her father hearing the worse from her mother but try as she may in that moment, her mother would not be persuaded into keeping her silence.

  Thankfully, they heard the sound of a carriage entering their paddock and Elizabeth never thought she would ever have been glad to see Mr. Darcy as she was at that time.

  Soon though, she began to lament his coming to Longbourn at all. It seemed that the man and her father had met in London and he had at length discussed the affair at the ball with her father. Elizabeth decided that she would rather he heard the affair from her mother after all.

  “Come to me, Elizabeth,” said her father when all the pleasantries were exchanged, and her mother’s nerves had calmed upon seeing Darcy take his seat at her table. “What is this I hear about you refusing this man’s hand? Is it your plan to die an old maid? While you have refused your cousin’s hand – and I agree that he is the most ridiculous man ever to walk the lands, I cannot agree with your decision on this matter, Lizzy. Explain to me what you mean.”

  But Mrs. Bennet spoke up first, “What? This man proposed marriage to Elizabeth? When? Why has no one told me this news? And what is this of Elizabeth refusing him? I shall not hear of it, you must be engaged this instant! Mr. Bennet, you must make sure of it or I shall never speak to her again.”

  “My dear, Mrs. Bennet, I daresay that I agree with you this time, especially considering Lydia’s rash behaviour and the peril which this family must bear by consequent of it,” said Mr. Bennet in quite a mild manner in light of his wife’s theatrics. “And I shall state that I do not believe a word about you two found in a compromising position but alas, my faith in my daughter shall not redeem her or her sisters from the society’s scorn. But first, we shall hear Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth gazed upon her father’s face. There had never been a doubt as to her place in her father’s heart though he would not exert himself in anything. However, since his journey to London in search of his youngest daughter, he seemed to have realized his fault in the entire matter. He sought to maintain a stronger hold on the affairs of his family, lest he wouldn’t exert himself so, for it became clear to her that it was upon his invitation that Mr. Darcy came.

  Mr. Darcy had spoken nary a word since he sat beside her father. He gazed only at a fixed point on the ground and she had no means of estimating what went through his mind. Of certain, he was pleasing to look at, though nowhere near as Wickham, but Elizabeth knew in him a certain pride that infuriated her in no small amount. And there was Wickham’s account of his wicked behaviour in refusing him the bequeath from the late older Mr. Darcy. Though in light of recent happenings, Elizabeth could not be certain if Mr. Wickham could entirely be trusted. Other than this, Elizabeth could admit in the privacy of her mind that Mr. Darcy held no life-threatening defect.

  And he did not seem entirely averse to spending a lifetime with her. In fact, he had proposed marriage to her twice! Could Jane be right in her predictions?

  Elizabeth reminded herself that her family still waited upon her answer. Her mother fretted and looked at her in great annoyance.

  Jane’s face was calm but there was hope and encouragement in it.

  Her father seemed tired and she was filled with anguish for the ordeal he must have endured in London.

  Mary and Kitty looked like they would rather have her in the madhouse for her audacity in refusing to be the mistress of Pemberley.

  Elizabeth knew there was no other right course of action. Regardless of her reservations for Mr. Darcy, she must think of her family over herself, and Jane, especially deserved no such fate as to live an old maid on account of her sisters’ missteps.

  “I shall marry Mr. Darcy, Papa,” said she.

  Chapter Seven

  The wedding was held in the town temple within a week. In that week, a series of events happened seemingly all at once. As if waiting the entire time to thwart her sister, Lydia was found the very next day of Elizabeth’s engagement to Mr. Darcy immediately upon which Mr. Gardiner handled all the business of getting her married to Wickham most quietly in London. He settled all Wickham’s debts, of course, and the Bennet family could never conceive of how they were ever to repay him.

  Only Mrs. Bennet seemed unaffected by the entirety of the circumstances surrounding her daughters’ weddings. Seeing two of her daughters married sent her into raptures as were never before observed before. She marvelled and cried for joy and said she knew as it would be from the very beginning. Her only regret was that Bingley would not be married to Jane, too, but she expressed her hopes for them yet, because Bingley was Mr. Darcy’s friend and surely, he would see for himself again, how beautiful Jane was and be enchanted once more.

  Wickham and Lydia, could not compare in Mrs. Bennet’s eyes. Elizabeth was now beyond competition her favourite child and she ordered the best muslins and calico for the wedding. On the day, she was seen strutting about, telling all about how much she had been blessed with such connections and one would think the entire arrangement was to her sole credit and design.

  Elizabeth only conferred with Mr. Darcy once as to the arrangement of the wedding. They met in her father’s library and had nothing much to say to each other, save some preparations for her removal
to Pemberley soon after the wedding. He informed her of his sister’s intentions to attend the wedding in company of his housekeeper and the Bingley sisters.

  “You would like Georgina,” said he, “She has been most keen to meet with you.”

  Elizabeth remembered Wickham’s professions about Miss Darcy and doubted her fiancé’s words. She however held her tongue and reminded him to write his aunt, Lady Catherine, and cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  On the beautiful morning of her wedding to Mr. Darcy, her father escorted her down the aisle. Elizabeth’s heart lurched in cautious excitement. She was about to be Mrs. Darcy and being one who was mostly true to herself, she found that she greatly anticipated being betrothed to the man she had hitherto detested.

  Thus, in the ancient tradition of her father giving her away, the minister received her at her father’s hands and caused Mr. Darcy, with his right hand to take Elizabeth by her right hand.

  “Dearly beloved,” declared the minister, “we are gathered together here in the sight of God...”

  Having been to a wedding or two in her lifetime, Elizabeth was acquainted with the ceremony of matrimony, but this time the words were all too real. With Mr. Darcy’s gaze fixed upon her, her heart went aflutter.

  The ring was blessed and then placed onto Elizabeth’s finger.

  “With this ring,” declared Mr. Darcy, the timbre of his voice deeply hypnotic, heavenly, “I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow...”

  So deeply affected was she, it took all the willpower that Elizabeth could muster to not swoon at Mr. Darcy’s feet.

  Subsequent to the vows, the communion was taken. Too soon, the formal ceremony ended and the newly wedded waltzed down the aisle. As they stepped outside the doors, the sun seemed to burst with vivacity, so brilliant were its rays. The crowds shouted their best wishes and let fly seeds and rice. It was time for the festivities to begin.

  Jane and Bingley seemed to have rekindled their attraction and talked together most of the wedding breakfast, and for that at least, Elizabeth could be grateful, being a direct result of her marriage and by consequence, bringing Bingley once more to Hertfordshire. She hoped with all her being that Mr. Bingley’s heart was bold enough to oppose his sisters in asking for Jane’s hand. Mr. Darcy should not have a hand in the opposition this time around, she determined. As his wife, she would make certain of it.

  The newlywed Mrs. Wickham, shameless as she was about running away with a man, teased the new Mrs. Darcy about the success of her scheme to catch such a man as Mr. Darcy and declared that, had she not been so violently in love with her dear Wickham, she might have set her cap for him herself. Wickham did not seem eager to draw near to Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth at all.

  Each one after the other, Elizabeth hugged her family when it was time to leave. Her mother was effusive and did not seem disturbed about sending her daughter to the North at all. “Do not delay in sending us an invitation to your manor as soon as you are settled, my dear,” said she. “I hear it is the most beautiful sight in spring; it shall be the most perfect thing for us!”

  Her journey away from Longbourn was one which she dreaded and in the last week thought about how she was to fare on her own away from the sanity of Jane, the felicity of her father and the security of Longbourn, all of which was all she knew her whole life, save some tours with her aunt and uncle. But her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was ever by her side and reassured her that she would be by to see her in Pemberley before the year’s end. The night afore, her aunt had taken it upon herself to give her a half-hour talk in private on her expected wifely duties. Elizabeth had listened with her ears and face ablaze.

  Her journey to Pemberley held much to be dreaded for. It could only be imagined that her first night with Mr. Darcy was filled with acute tension and anticipation.

  No sooner had they reached Pemberley had he made known his intentions to share a room with her; “In no way would I allow you your own room away from me,” he had declared.

  His tone was so decisive that Elizabeth did not think to argue. Her aunt had drummed into her ears enough of what she was to expect.

  After she was scrubbed from head to toe by the maids, she reappeared as if under duress, and yet willingly before him in her powdering gown.

  As if sensing her quandary, he came before her and with his eyes grave, said, “I comprehend how wrongly we started our acquaintance, indeed, I am willing to engage my very best in making this the envy of all marriages. I shall act in all accordance of a respectable husband and shall contrive not to distress you in aught. My dear Elizabeth, you have my word.”

  He spoke nothing of love and passion and for this, Elizabeth both rejoiced and despaired. She, who had always envisaged that she should marry for love or not at all, had found herself in this situation. Yet, she rejoiced because she knew that such professions could only be entirely false and demeaning to her sense of worth. She knew not what to say in return and in lieu of uttering nothing but folly, she recollected her aunt’s lessons and with a braveness that was far from anything she was feeling, dropped her gown to the floor.

  “Elizabeth!” His breath seemed now to become caught in his throat. Very slowly, his hand rose to her shoulder, setting her skin aflame instantly. His eyes searched hers as if trying to reassure himself that none other but she stood before him. She fought not to let her gaze waver.

  There was a wild gleam in his eyes that surprised her even as his fingers trailed down her chest. No man had ever touched her in such manner and Elizabeth found herself confounded as to what to do in spite of her aunt’s kind lessons. Her heart raced in her chest as she tried valiantly to stop herself from shaking at his touch. She sought to remind herself that this man had denied her dear sister a marriage that could have only been founded on genuine feelings of mutual love and respect.

  “You are beautiful,” she heard him whisper and her uncharitable thoughts fled.

  Warm lips followed his fingers and she found herself clutching his arms, finding them sturdy and warm beneath her fingers. His lips grazed the crest of her mounds and she would surely have fallen to the floor if she was not clutching him so tightly. Her breasts became unbearably heavy and she felt an unexplainable longing for his tongue to touch the tips. An unholy sound escaped her when she felt his tongue right where she wanted them. “Mr. Darcy!” she cried.

  “No,” said he and his mouth left her.

  She cried in anguish, she wanted him to continue. Her mind was delirious with wanting and she grabbed him closer to her.

  “Fitzwilliam,” he said.

  Elizabeth stared at him, confused.

  “My name is Fitzwilliam. I will not have you call me Mr. Darcy in the privacy of our chambers.”

  Mr. Darcy was all she had called him and known him to be. Again, Elizabeth remembered her disdain for the man, though his fingers were back to touching her skin as if he could not quite hold himself from the action. The thought soon disappeared and she shivered as his hand rose to tilt her chin so she was looking directly into his eyes. His dove grey irises held such urgent purpose in them, but she had no inkling of what such could be.

  “Fitzwilliam,” he repeated.

  Her lips moved but no sound emerged. His hand slid down her body, making her tremble. When his hand touched her there, the place where she never imagined to be touched by any other but herself, she jumped with a cry. When she would certainly have bolted away from him like a scared lamb, he took hold of her waist and his lips found hers in a lock that dissolved all her thoughts of escape. “Fitzwilliam,” she moaned.

  “Elizabeth,” he growled, a sound that was impassioned and smouldering with heat, and lowered her to the bed, holding her as though she was his most cherished of treasures. “You are enchanting, Elizabeth!” He exhaled a deep breath. “Absolutely enchanting!” Fitzwilliam bent closer and trailed kisses over her neck, then sucked her earlobe.

  Armaments seemed to have launched their attack, for her body wa
s bathed with warmth, her twin peaks tightened and her belly quivered. Even her neck seemed to have a mind of its own, because it arched, giving her dear husband the licence to plant heated kisses all the way to her collarbone. She closed her eyes, basking in the awakening of sensations that she had hitherto never felt before, even as his fingers brushed her upper torso, making her stomach muscles jerked and flexed in anticipation. Anticipation for what? Her befuddled mind could not tell.

  How did the gods conspire to bring her and Fitzwilliam to this point? She could not even begin to fathom it. He with the aloofness and disdain toward her which was unwarranted, except for the fact that he, along with the rest of polite society, felt that she was beneath him. How she hated him, them, for it! But here she was, lying underneath him, as he had his way with her body, doing all the naughty things she only heard whispered about. And here she was, enjoying every decadent minute of it.

  Fitzwilliam’s fingers brushed her stomach, jolting her back to the present as he parted her legs. Elizabeth opened her eyes again, only to behold Fitzwilliam’s gaze, which seemed riveted on her naked skin. She was transfixed, bearing witness to his face lowering to her stomach and trailing soft kisses across her skin.

  Zing of heat raced across Elizabeth’s body. His desire for her made her want him with a passion that was frighteningly new to her. Never before had she thought she would have felt this way. In all her imaginings, these feelings emanating from deep within were unexpectedly unexpected. She had been worried that this entire thing was going to be exceedingly and extraordinarily awkward, but Fitzwilliam was a fantastic lover. He almost made her feel like he was, if truth be told, cherishing her body. His tongue darted out to swirl over her nipple and she moaned. Her nipple tightened instantly and Fitzwilliam’s fingers teased the other one to a bud. He sucked her and the sensation sent off another wave of desire straight to her core. The warm feelings she had been experiencing went up a notch and the heat of her arousal threatened to light the bed on fire.