Mr Darcy's Struggle

by Martine J Roberts

  Elizabeth was astounded at how calmly he imparted such a revelation. He had known for three whole days before revealing this news to her, and then did it in a cavalier manner over the cheeseboard!

  “When, and where are they going, did he share this with you also?”

  Elizabeth tried to mask the sarcasm in her voice but was unsuccessful. It was incredulous that her father had informed Mr Darcy of his plans but had not seen fit to tell her, his own daughter. More worryingly, did her sisters know, she wondered? Undoubtedly, they would both benefit from further instruction on how to conduct themselves when in polite society, but could her father have not hired someone to do so at Longbourn?

  “He did as it happens.”

  Darcy did not understand her outrage. Indeed, when Mr Bennet had asked him what he thought of the idea, he had not only approved it but had actively encouraged him. In his opinion, society would benefit greatly from the temporary absence of the youngest Bennet sisters.

  “They will be going to a highly respectable finishing school in Bath. One I recommended actually. My understanding is they will repair there directly after the Christmas and New Year festivities are concluded. After which, I understand your father intends to encourage Lydia into a courtship with one of your neighbours, a Mr Johnson I believe. It is all arranged,” he finished flatly.

  It seemed that Mr Darcy and her father had become firm friends, friends that enjoyed sharing confidences, and in only a few weeks. While it was not a bad thing, she certainly did not want them to collaborate where she was concerned!

  So the girls would be at Longbourn until mid-January she concluded. That would give her enough time to write to Jane and receive a reply.

  Unfortunately, Darcy’s disclosure soured all attempts at further conversation. Conscious of both their discomfiture, Darcy instructed the footman to bring his coffee to the library. He then excused himself and left Elizabeth to enjoy her coffee alone.

  Elizabeth waited a few minutes to be sure he would not see her, then hurried to her chamber to write to Jane.

  Pemberley

  Derbyshire

  December 21st 1811

  My Dearest Jane,

  I hope this missive finds you and all my family in good health.

  I am pleased to confirm our safe arrival at Pemberley, and after only three days travelling. It is far grander than even I could have imagined.

  The housekeeper’s floor plans have aided me greatly, as I try to navigate my way around. Mr Darcy informs me there are in excess of two hundred rooms, so you can understand how easy it is to get lost. It is decorated in a grand fashion of maybe ten years ago, but somehow it seems appropriate for this house.

  I have learnt from the head gardener, Watkins (the one who sent the flowers for my hair) that Pemberley also boasts over thirty thousand acres. Is that not very grand indeed, my dear Jane? Mama will be most impressed! And Jane, it is quite in harmony with its surroundings and nature alike. I long to explore it more, weather permitting. When you visit, I hope to have discovered some of the special places I have heard Mr Darcy refer to. Then I will be able to share them with you and Charles.

  On a serious note, Jane, I have just discovered that Papa intends to withdraw Kitty and Lydia from society. They are to be sent to board at a school in Bath, is this correct? How have they taken such news? I fear Father will not only have Lydia’s wailing and moaning to deal with, but also Mama’s, for she is sure to oppose such an action.

  Write soon and tell me all, hold nothing back, I implore you.

  I must hasten if this is to catch the morning post.

  Your loving and affectionate sister,

  Elizabeth Darcy.

  Reading it over, she decided she was right not to mention her father’s plans for Lydia’s betrothal, unsure if Jane would yet be party to this information. Folding the letter, Elizabeth melted the dark red wax and pressed her new ED stamp firmly on it. Glancing at the clock, she decided there was enough time before she retired to take the missive to Mrs Reynolds. It could then be despatched on the morrow. She only hoped that the dusting of snow they had earlier would not become more substantial before she got a reply.

  CHAPTER 27

  Bedtime drew near, and Elizabeth wondered if Darcy would finally come and join her tonight. She finished her toilet and let Mrs Reynolds help her into her nightgown before brushing her hair. After bidding the housekeeper Goodnight, Elizabeth propped herself up in bed and waited. I have been married four full days, yet still, I am a maid, she thought. What should she do, what was expected of her?

  Events had not unfolded as she had been led to believe, and now she was completely confused. Her mother had imparted her version of expected marital duties, but her Aunt Gardiner had told her something completely different, yet neither had come to fruition. Suddenly, she remembered the gift from her aunt and slipped out of bed to retrieve it. There in the drawer was the parcel of brown paper Madeline Gardiner had gifted her. Lifting it out carefully, she placed it on top of the chest of drawers. Slowly, she unfolded it, revealing a neat bundle of plain white cotton cloth. Concealed within this layer was another garment. Opening it with care, Elizabeth exposed a nightgown and robe made of the sheerest gossamer material she had ever seen. When held up to the light, she could almost see her hand through the two layers of material. The nightgown was held in place by two silk ribbons, one tied at each shoulder, and a thin belt at the waist. Her first thought had been it was indecent, surely worn by ladies of ill-repute. But after talking with her Aunt Gardiner about what to expect on her wedding night, she felt emboldened and accepted the gift. Elizabeth had whispered to her aunt what her mother had told her, and Madeline Gardiner had been shocked.

  “Dearest Elizabeth, from my personal experience, nothing could be further from the truth. I am sorry if this has been your mother’s destiny, though, I would have thought differently of Mr Bennet. Perhaps it is not so, and she was merely embarrassed at having to discuss such matters. However, without being too indelicate, let me tell you what I know of the matter.”

  Taking Elizabeth’s hand, she chose her words with care as she elaborated.

  “When a man and woman truly love each other, what passes between them in the marriage bed can be both an exciting and pleasurable encounter. If your husband has some experience, as all men tend to, he will be able to touch you and bring forth sensations that you will never have felt before. He will kiss and caress your whole body, Elizabeth, and be not afraid to do the same for him.”

  Elizabeth looked down as a crimson blush stained her cheeks, recalling how she had already enjoyed Mr Darcy’s touch. Not once, but on several occasions, thus bearing out her aunt’s words.

  “He will take and give great pleasure as he explores your body my dear, and Elizabeth, you must learn what pleases him too. The ‘sword and piercing’ your mother mentioned are true, if a little dramatic. The first time there will be a little pain, but it will pass quickly and never be experienced again. After that, the journey of exploration and fulfilment should be mutually satisfying. Go to your husband, my dear, with open arms and an open mind. The marriage bed is not just to beget children, Lizzie; it can be a playground of adult fun, a place to share intimacies and secrets with your loved one, your husband.”

  Mrs Gardiner paused for a moment, thinking of what she had purchased for her niece. It was an expensive and risqué gift, but clearly, she would receive no such item from her mother.

  “So, my wedding gift to you is a similar creation my mother gave to me. It is risqué, I admit, but when you wear it, it will fan Darcy’s passion until he burns with desire for you, mark my words.”

  Maybe I should have a similar chat with Mrs Bennet? Madeline Gardiner thought, after leaving Elizabeth. Though passed childbearing age, she might yet enjoy her husband’s company in the bedroom.

  “Well, here it is,” Elizabeth said aloud as she shook it out, “a nightgown to seduce and inflame my husband’s desire.”

  He seemed to need no
such allurement before we married, she thought sadly. If he comes to me tonight, he will find me ready and a most willing pupil.

  She shivered as she slipped the gown on over her head and moved nearer to the fire. Beautiful as it was, it was not very practical on a cold December night.

  As the darkness marched by, she was determined to stay awake, but her idle brain was making it more and more difficult. Elizabeth decided a book might aid her vigil; she pulled on the matching robe and made her way to the library.

  The candlelight made the house look different, eerie, but she quickly found her way, and with a single turn of the handle, entered Darcy's inner sanctum. It was an impressive room that was split into two sections, each having several comfortable chairs and tables. At one end, there was a grand fireplace with the remnants of a dying fire still burning. At the other end sat Darcy’s magnificent, oak desk. In the middle of the room, a tall bookcase jutted out, almost touching the richly decorated ceiling. Darcy had proudly boasted to her that the library contained over twenty thousand titles. It was clearly his favourite room in the house. A place where he could indulge his love of knowledge and solitude. He found the aroma of the leather bindings one of his most comforting smells It had taken several generations to amass its contents and seeing the row upon row of books, Elizabeth could easily believe it. She looked forward to spending many happy hours in here, curled up in one of the big chairs, lost in the works of Shakespeare or Byron.

  It was the perfect place to find something to keep her awake, she thought, maybe a lively play by the bard, or a rousing canto from Dante’s ‘Divine Comedy.’

  With the only light in the room coming from the weak glow of the dying fire, Elizabeth held the candle closer to the spines, enabling her to read the words. Spying a small leather-clad book with no visible title, she placed the candlestick on the nearest table and pulled it from its resting place.

  How intriguing, she thought; now eager to discover its worth. It was certainly well-worn though the leather was still pungent. It deserved further investigation, she decided.

  Darcy sat motionless, afraid his vision would disappear. Night after night, he had dreamt of Elizabeth coming to him, to confirm their love as only a man and woman could. Tonight was no different. He must have drunk deeply for his apparition to appear so real. When she turned to set the candle down, its light illuminated her features, and he realised it was no dream.

  Frozen, he held his breath, afraid she would hear his heart pounding as it thumped against his ribs. He watched mesmerised, as she ran her hands over the soft leather of the book. Then something fell to the floor. As Elizabeth turned to look where the belt had fallen, he perceived the sheerness of her gown. The hint of her breasts and the curve of her hips beckoned to his senses. The impact of such a vision caught him unaware, and he drew in a sharp breath.

  Knowing his presence had now been announced, Darcy realised he must say something.

  “Not tired Elizabeth?” he said, trying to hide the desire in his voice.

  Elizabeth was startled at the realisation that she was not alone, but thankfully it was Mr Darcy and not a servant. His chair was tucked into a recess by the fire, but Elizabeth could see he was dressed in only his breeches, boots, and shirt, which was open at the neck. She fully appreciated what a fine specimen of masculinity her husband was, and his remaining clothes did nothing to hide the rippling muscles concealed within. She observed the half empty glass in his hand and correctly surmised he’d been drinking. Remembering what gown she had donned before coming downstairs, Elizabeth felt conscious of her state of undress, but remembering her aunt’s words, she neither retrieved the belt nor pulled her robe together.

  “On the contrary sir, I was looking for a volume to revive my flagging spirits,” she replied honestly.

  “Well, you have plenty to choose from in here madam.”

  Darcy paused to determine what she held before continuing,

  “Although I believe that particular volume is not suitable for a virgin maid.”

  Piqued by his words, her spirit rose, after all, she was still a virgin by his design. Had she not waited these past three nights for him to come to her?

  Elizabeth decided she could not let his comment pass unchallenged. Recollecting his earlier comment and that actions spoke louder than words, she closed her eyes and lifted the book to her nose. She let the pleasant aroma of old leather invade her senses.

  Peeping through lowered lashes, she could see he had moved and was now perched on the edge of his seat. No longer was he holding the glass; instead, his hands were gripping the arms of his chair.

  Elizabeth lowered the book to her breasts, held his gaze, and boldly replied,

  “I think this will suit me quite well, sir.”

  For a moment, she thought he had not heard her, but in the next instant, he rose from his chair and closed the space between them. Taking her by the shoulders, he shook her until her dark curls scattered in disarray. His gaze was piercing, but she could not fathom if it were with anger, or desire. Either way, his presence and touch made her heart race.

  Slowly, so as to leave her in no doubt of his intention, Darcy bent his head and took possession of her lips, capturing her mouth and forcing her to accept his exploration as his hands slid under her robe.

  The book tumble to the floor and Elizabeth brought her arms up, and instinctively entwined her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. She wanted more, and with a naive urgency, she arched her body against his. The taste of the brandy he had earlier imbibed transferred to her as he plundered her mouth again and again. Elizabeth relished the heat from his palms as they travelled to her hips, pulling her lower body into contact with his. He awoke a craving in her wherever he touched, burning its way through her body, radiating from her thighs and beyond.

  Darcy could not deny it; his desire for her was unmistakably evident. He tore his mouth from hers and began to trail kisses down her neck and shoulder.

  Everywhere he touched left her throbbing, aching for more, and she cried out,

  “Oh, Fitzwilliam.”

  Instantly he was still, and then in a voice as cold as cold as steel, he spat the words,

  “No madam, it is your husband!”

  CHAPTER 28

  Thrusting her away with more force than he intended, Elizabeth was propelled backwards into the bookcase and fell to the floor. Darcy looked at her crumpled form and fought the urge to pick her up and beg for forgiveness. He longed to fold her in his arms and smother her with kisses, to tell her he was a fool and would take whatever morsel of affection she offered. But this was one time she would find him no gentleman.

  Turning his back on her, he strode to the table, snatched up the decanter of brandy and then slammed the door as he left.

  Elizabeth lay slumped on the floor. What just happened, she thought? Finally, they seemed to have reconnected, were one in thought and desire, and now this. Pulling her robe together, she searched the floor for the belt, but her unshed tears blurred her vision. To have been thus rejected after welcoming his attentions was more than she could bear. Although unwitnessed, her humiliation was complete.

  No longer trying to stifle the sob that had risen to her throat, she buried her head in her hands and released her tears of despair.

  Back in his room, Darcy threw himself into the chair by the fire, lifted the decanter to his mouth and took a large gulp. As some of the amber liquid escaped and trickled from the corner of his mouth, he felt the familiar warmth turn to a burn as the rest slid down his throat. He had been certain when she entered his inner sanctum that she had purposely sought him out. Her attire spoke of her intention to seduce him, and he was only too willing to succumb to her wiles. Fitzwilliam! He spat. In the heat of her passion, she had called the name of her lover, probably unconsciously done, but done all the same. Plus, the remark about the book; had he not told her it was unsuitable for a virgin maid? Yet she had quite brazenly told him it would suit her well! Her implication was clear; th
e book was acceptable because she was no longer a maid. Again, he raised the glass vessel to his lips and ignoring the burning that ripped at his throat, took another series of gulps. Oblivion could not come quickly enough.

  Exhausted, Elizabeth got to her feet and wiped her face on the hem of her robe. Then, wrapping it tightly around her, she secured it with the wayward belt. Uncertain of her strength, she gingerly walked to the table and retrieved the candlestick. Assured that she was indeed steady on her feet, she quickly exited and made her way back to her rooms. Once the door was safely closed behind her, she rested against it and let out a long sigh, grateful that no one had seen her. What had she done that she should incur such disdain and anger from him? Was it because she had invaded his privacy by going to the library without first seeking his permission? Surely not, for he knew of her love of books and reading; indeed, she had spent many hours ensconced in the library at Longbourn with her father. She even recalled that Darcy had once said, ‘for a lady to be considered truly accomplished, she must improve her mind with extensive reading.' No, it could not be that. Did he disapprove of her attire then, thinking it unsuitable for his wife? She walked over to the full-length mirror, opened her robe, and looked at her reflection. While the material was sheer, it was not transparent, more translucent, she thought. While it gave a hint of her figure below, it was by no means on display. When he first glimpsed the nightgown beneath her robe, he had pressed his suit most ardently, and she had welcomed his advances; indeed, she was eager to participate. No, it could not be the gown or her reaction to his advances.

  Setting the candle down on her bedside table, Elizabeth took the robe and gown off and threw them on a chair, then donned a simple shift before climbing into bed. She extinguished the candle and stared at the glowing embers in the hearth. Absently, she pulled the covers up to cocoon herself in them and then went over the incident, detail by detail. It was when she murmured his name that he flung her from him.