by C. P. Odom
* * * * *
As they pulled to a halt in front of his house, Darcy looked down at Elizabeth as she leaned against his side, having fallen asleep almost immediately after entering his coach for the short drive from the Gardiner home following the wedding breakfast. She had admitted to him that she had hardly slept at all the night before, succumbing most unexpectedly to an attack of bridal nerves. She had sought Jane out in her own chamber, and the two sisters sat together talking until almost dawn, she had said, both of them conscious that this was the very last time for such a shared experience.
She looks so beautiful, he thought, but then he smiled. He always thought she looked beautiful. But she is especially beautiful now, because she is no longer Elizabeth Bennet, but is now Elizabeth Darcy.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Elizabeth.” She murmured something under her breath and burrowed deeper into his chest. “Elizabeth,” he said in a louder voice, “we have arrived.”
Elizabeth opened her eyes and smiled up at him. My husband, she thought. It is real, it has happened, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, and all the vows we exchanged.
“We have arrived, Elizabeth,” Darcy told her again, once she had her eyes fully open.
“Yes, I see,” she replied as the footman opened the door and folded down the stair. When she sat up, she realized that her hair was fully down around her shoulders. “Mr. Darcy!” she exclaimed, reaching up to discover that her hairpins were completely missing.
Darcy was unrepentant as he held out his hand and opened his fist to disclose the missing pins. “I have wanted to do that for the longest time,” he told her cheerfully.
“What am I going to do with you, sir?” she said sternly, though a smile tugged at her lips. She quickly and expertly wound up her hair in a passable fashion and secured it with the hairpins. Once she was tolerably presentable and had donned her bonnet, he descended and held out his hand to assist her in exiting the coach. Mrs. Taylor and Stevens stood in the open door, beaming as Elizabeth took Darcy’s arm and climbed the entry steps.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Darcy,” said Stevens, giving her a bow. Mrs. Taylor had what looked suspiciously like a tear in her eye as she curtseyed to her new mistress, and much of the rest of the staff was lined up inside the broad entry. Elizabeth was pleased that they all seemed quite happy to greet her as the new Mrs. Darcy, and Mrs. Taylor explained that she would arrange for her to meet the complete staff in the coming days.
The wedding breakfast had taken considerable time, and many toasts were drunk to the future happiness of the newly wedded couple. It was now approaching five o’clock, and Elizabeth wanted to change from her wedding gown to simpler attire before the evening meal. Darcy escorted her up the stairs to her room — her room! she thought, in amazement — as the staff dispersed to their duties. Once again, Elizabeth felt her stomach flutter when they came to her chamber door, and she thought again of just how much her life had changed. She would never go back to her dear bedroom at Longbourn; she would never curl up on Jane’s bed as they shared confidences late into the night; she would not hear the amiable chaos of noise that characterized her previous home life at Longbourn. Darcy’s home was quiet and efficient, and the change would be dramatic. She looked up at Darcy as they came to a stop to find him studying her worriedly, and she smiled at his continuing insecurity.
“I was just thinking of all the things that have changed so suddenly, and all the things that used to be a part of my life that will never again be the same,” she said softly. “It is rather overwhelming to think of, but from the look on your face, I see that I must again remind you that I am not disposed to melancholy.”
Darcy smiled ruefully. “I try to keep that in mind, but sometimes I cannot help worrying just a little.”
“That was a pensive look on my face, William,” she teased him. “It was not a worried look.”
“I shall attempt to remember that. Now, if I just knew how to tell the difference . . .”
She smiled and squeezed his arm before entering her room. It looked the same as it had on her tour, she realized, but already it was different. As her mother had informed her, Sarah had indeed arrived from Longbourn, the only consideration that Mrs. Bennet had been able to wring from her husband, and the maid was busily emptying Elizabeth’s trunks into the closets, humming softly to herself.
Sarah turned to her mistress, now her only mistress, and curtseyed. “Welcome home, Mrs. Darcy,” she said with a smile. “Hot water is being brought up for your bath whenever you shall be ready for it.”
“Thank you, Sarah.” Waving at her trunks, Elizabeth said, “I would have thought these would already be unpacked since they were sent over last night.”
“Oh, no, Mrs. Darcy!” exclaimed Sarah. “Mrs. Taylor was informed of my coming and very properly left that to my care. I only arrived two hours ago.”
“Ah, I see,” said Elizabeth, hearing the obvious pride in Sarah’s voice. It would have been so easy, she realized, for Sarah to be slighted by the staff in a large, established household like this, the implication being that she could not possibly perform her new tasks, coming, as she did, from such a small estate as Longbourn. But Mrs. Taylor was obviously thoughtful and considerate enough to avoid this slight and had left Elizabeth’s trunks to the care of her personal maid.
Supper was served in a small dining room that was just the size to serve four or five. Darcy said that it was the room where he commonly ate with Georgiana, who was spending the next week with her Aunt and Uncle Matlock. Not having partaken much at the wedding breakfast, Elizabeth ate with enthusiasm, but despite the tastiness of the meal, prepared with skill by Darcy’s kitchen staff, she noticed that her husband only picked at his food.
“Are you not feeling well, William?” she asked with concern. While she had much to learn about her new husband, she knew enough to know that he was not a fussy eater.
“No, I thank you, Elizabeth. I am not ill, but I am not particularly hungry.” As she looked closer, she could tell that Darcy seemed rather ill at ease. When she thought back to his playfulness in the coach, she had a sudden suspicion of what might be troubling him. Satisfied that she could deal with the problem, she finished her dinner and then smiled at her husband.
“It has been a momentous day, has it not, Mr. Darcy?” she asked him.
“Yes, it has been the happiest day of my life,” he told her sincerely, but she could see he was still troubled.
“May I ask the time, Mr. Darcy?” she asked as her smile broadened. Darcy appeared surprised, but he fumbled for his watch.
“It is just past eight,” he replied; then he stood quickly as Elizabeth arose from her chair.
“Might I suggest that we retire early since it is our wedding night? If you will give me a half-hour, you can come to me then.”
There, she thought, if it is as I suspect, he will start being the proper gentleman right about now.
Darcy seemed to have a hard time speaking before he finally began, “Elizabeth, I do not want to force you into anything that you may not be prepared for.” He was grave but earnest as he continued, “I am willing to wait if you need . . . that is, if you are not . . .”
Elizabeth put a finger to his lips. “Do not be foolish, William. What I need is a half-hour,” and he stiffly extended his arm to escort her back to her bedchamber.
At the door, she looked up at her new husband and was amused to see that she had guessed correctly, for he appeared even more ill at ease than he had downstairs. “In a half-hour, then?” she said playfully, and, as he nodded formally, she rose to her toes to lightly brush her lips across his before entering her room.
Chapter 24
Saturday, April 25, 1812
A half hour later, Elizabeth was brushing her hair after having dismissed Sarah for the evening. The girl she had known so long had been terribly excited and pleased to help Mrs. Darcy prepare for the first night of her marriage, and she had selected the most daring of
the nightgowns that her Aunt Gardiner had helped her choose. The style was even bolder than she remembered, and the deep neckline displayed the pale skin of her bosom to maximum advantage, and she knew that her back was bare to her waist.
She was delighted at how the sheer fabric felt against her skin, and she could not help remembering Aunt Gardiner’s comment the previous day. This gown seems almost designed to be removed, she thought, and she wondered if she might wake in the morning wearing her pearls and nothing else. She felt another of those delightful shivers that made her break out again into goose flesh. She wondered whether William would come to her or she would have to force the issue, and she decided that either prospect would prove quite entertaining.
At length, she decided she had waited long enough. She knocked gently on the door before opening it, stepping into his room to find him sitting with a brandy in hand, still fully dressed, on a small sofa before the fire.
Darcy had been trying to get up the courage to go to Elizabeth when the knock came. Surely he could not have misinterpreted her, but he did not want to do anything wrong on such a night. He was willing to wait until she overcame any doubts she might have before he attempted to consummate the marriage, but then she entered the room, and he suddenly found he could not breathe.
He saw that she had left her long, dark hair loose, just as he had dreamed of so many times, and she smiled as she walked across the room. The sight of her in that enticing nightdress was literally breathtaking, and the sheer fabric of the dressing gown she wore over it did nothing conceal the daring cut. The way the garment displayed the fullness of her lovely bosom and the sway of her hips under the clinging folds of fabric left him speechless. As she crossed to where he sat, he thought that he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. He was touched that she still wore the pearls, but he could say nothing.
“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said wickedly, “I began to wonder if you would ever come.”
Darcy found that he could not make his mouth move as she paused in front of him, and he was completely unaware that he had not stood when she entered the room.
“Are you not going to invite me to sit, sir?” she enquired with that same challenging smile. As he vaguely waved his hands, she gracefully sat down beside him with a rustle of fabric.
“I repeat myself, Mr. Darcy. Were you going to come to me, or was I to be left alone on my wedding night?”
Still he was dumbstruck.
Elizabeth leaned toward him teasingly, displaying even more of her bosom. “Sir, did you forget to write out your lines before this night? Shall I call for pen and paper?”
Darcy continued to stare at her. Her lovely face showed profound innocence, but the enticing pale skin of her bosom was even more visible beneath her neckline. Then he saw the merriment dancing in her eyes as she struggled to repress her smile. He started to chuckle, which made her smile openly, and then it became a low laugh that grew and grew. Unable to restrain himself, he soon was roaring, with Elizabeth joining him, and he clasped her to him with tears rolling down both their cheeks as they both laughed so hard their sides ached. Finally, the laughter began to subside, but even then, it only took a single giggle from Elizabeth or a chuckle from Darcy to set them off again. It was many minutes before they were finally able to achieve a level of calmness where they could talk. Darcy held Elizabeth’s shoulders and moved her slightly away so that he could see her smiling face while she dried her tears.
“Minx,” he said fondly, his heart swelling for love of this marvellous woman.
“I told you I was not unwilling.”
“I was trying to work up the courage to knock on your door. But I was afraid to push you too fast.”
Elizabeth smiled at him. He was really the dearest, most honourable man. “William, my friend Charlotte lectured me the night after you first proposed that I should not let my romantic impulses prevent me from marrying the man who would best make me happy. It is a sad state of affairs when I am forced to be the logical and rational one while you wallow in romantic sensibilities! How will we have children, sir, if you continue in this manner and never come to my bed?”
He smiled ruefully. “I kept having visions that I would be ravishing a virgin, Elizabeth, and I would rather wait, hard as it is, than to force you into anything before you are ready.”
Her eyes got round as she said teasingly, leaning over in a way that again disclosed the swell of her breasts so enticingly.
“But I am a virgin! And if you do not ravish me, then my mother will have warned me all about the distasteful obligations of a dutiful wife for nothing!”
“Oh, Lord,” he groaned, “I hesitate to ask what she said!”
“Well, there was repeated advice to just hold still and it would soon be over,” Elizabeth said appraisingly, cupping her chin in thought. “And I believe that she tried to cheer me by saying that you would then leave me in peace for a while afterwards. And then there was the truly delightful part that, once you got me with child, I would be left alone until the child arrived and even some time afterward!” He laughed delightedly at her recitation while she looked up at him demurely, fluttering her eyelashes in affected modesty.
Finally, she said, in a voice that told Darcy she was now serious, “Will you not take me to your bed, William?”
He smiled down at her in love, full of joy, yet bittersweet, because she did not return his love. Still, he knew it was his good fortune to have finally won this most marvellous woman. “Indeed I will, Elizabeth Darcy. Indeed I will.”
And, as he surged to his feet and picked her up as if she was a mere feather, she shrieked in delight as he whirled her about, and then she threw her arms around his neck as his mouth descended on hers. Elizabeth arched in his arms, tightening her hold around his neck as he walked toward the massive bed that waited with the covers already turned down for the night.
Darcy placed a knee on the bed in order to lift Elizabeth into the centre and placed her down carefully. As he stood up, preparatory to removing his waistcoat and shoes, she immediately reached out both arms to him beseechingly. Her need to have him close struck him with a warmth that made his eyes prickle with a surge of love, and he could no more have rejected her wordless plea or her half-closed eyes than he could have stopped breathing, so he simply lay down beside her and toed off his slippers. She murmured in contentment as he came within her reach, and her arms again went around his neck. He pulled her against him as they kissed long and slowly this time, knowing that the night was theirs and they had all the time in the world.
Elizabeth snuggled closer to him as they kissed, pressing her body against him, and his hand moved down her back to her waist and then lower, squeezing and caressing her through the thin fabric of her nightgown, then pulling and bunching the sheer material until his hand rested on the bare skin of her slender thigh, just as she had imagined it in the shop. A thrill of excitement ran up her spine at this fulfilment of her fantasy, and she shivered again as his hands explored her soft curves. She moved her own hand beneath his waistcoat as far as the tight garment would allow, feeling the muscles sliding in his back as he changed position to kiss her throat and then her ear, then her fingers moved around to the buttons. She fumbled with the unfamiliar fastenings, and Darcy assisted her, feeling a sense of wonder that she appeared to be enjoying herself as much as he. He was not inexperienced, but neither was he a rake with a list of conquests to his name, and he had not really known how Elizabeth would react when he took her to his bed. As their hands roamed, touching and exploring each other, he had never felt a warmer love for the wonderful woman in his arms who demonstrated her desire to bring him the same pleasure that he brought to her.
Inexperience was an impediment to them both, but Elizabeth’s nightgown was a much simpler garment than Darcy’s, so that his hand was soon moving over her bare skin, seeking out her most pleasurable areas to stroke and caress. Elizabeth’s excitement mounted as new and heretofore unexpected desires woke within her, and urgency
drove her own hands as she tugged his shirt from his breeches so she could run her hands up inside it, feeling the hard muscles beneath his warm skin. But Darcy had been more successful than she, and her nightgown was off her shoulder as well as pulled up around her waist, and she gave a soft cry of passion as his lips moved to her breast while his hand moved to her private place, the source of the throbbing warmth that kept her shivering. She clasped his head to her chest convulsively as his fingers stroked and slid over the incredible softness at her core. Suddenly, she pulled his head so hard against her breast that he was unable to continue to tease the sensitive flesh, and she arched upward as she reached her crest of pleasure, crying out in passion as she called his name repeatedly, softly but still urgently.
Elizabeth felt absolutely spent and drained, and the discoveries of this night had already indicated the superiority of her aunt’s advice over her mother’s. In the soft aftermath of her passion, she murmured deep in her throat in contentment, as Darcy began to kiss upward from her breast to her shoulder before moving to her neck and then her cheek. His tenderness and solicitude for her were more than merely heart-warming and comforting; they raised in her a feeling of attachment and affection that, if it were not love, was still more than she believed her own parents had ever shared. She made no attempt to restrain her soft laughter again as she thought of how her mother had advised her to lay back and endure the unpleasant duties of her wedding night!