The Engagement

by Ola Wegner

  Elizabeth smiled as she made her way to the middle of the room, taking a seat on a chair he guarded.

  His warm hands rested on her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. “You look lovely,” he said, bending down to kiss her temple.

  He sat on a chair in front of her. They ate in silence. Elizabeth enjoyed the warm soup and some cold meat, while Darcy seemed more preoccupied with staring at her rather than consuming his own meal.

  “Are you tired?” he asked.

  “Not particularly,” she answered. “I slept in the carriage,” she reminded him.

  He nodded but said nothing.

  “Thank you,” Elizabeth said, putting her napkin away, signalling that she had finished. “It was delicious.”

  “It is still quite early,” Darcy noted. “Not even eight. We may read or sit by the fireplace before we retire for the night.”

  “How early in the morning do you plan to start our journey?”

  “Seven.”

  “Then we should retire without delay. It was an eventful day, and we both need rest.”

  “Very well,” he agreed, his expression eager. “I will call the servants to clean after dinner and then I will join you,” he said, looking straight into her eyes.

  “I would like to take a bath tomorrow morning.”

  He nodded. “I will see to it.”

  Elizabeth returned to the bedroom. She could hear Darcy’s voice through the door as he talked to the servants. In order to occupy herself with some meaningful task, she found her brush. Usually it was Jane who brushed her hair every evening, but this task would now belong to her new maid. She was curious about who Mrs. Reynolds had selected, hoping that she would like and trust her.

  The door opened without a knock and Darcy stepped in. “Your bath will be ready at six, the breakfast half an hour later.”

  “Excellent, thank you,” Elizabeth said, putting her brush away and pleating her hair anew.

  “Leave it.”

  Turning her head, she looked up at him. He was in the process of removing his vest, his coat already hanging neatly over the back of one of the chairs.

  “Your hair. Let it free.”

  “It will tangle.”

  “Please.”

  Elizabeth considered his request. She knew that her hair would be difficult to deal with in the morning if she left it free for the night, but she decided to grant his wish. It was a small thing to make him happy. Allowing her long hair to rest against her shoulders and back, she stepped to the bed. She removed her robe and slippers before quickly climbing under the covers before Darcy could catch a glimpse of her form. While the robe was modest enough, the nightgown itself was indecent. It had long sleeves and high neckline but it was completely see-through. It was a farewell present from Mrs. Gardiner when Jane and Elizabeth had been leaving London.

  Elizabeth heard Darcy walking around the room, removing his boots and lastly washing himself. She lay down with her back to him, wishing to give him privacy while he was finishing his toilette.

  The bed dipped on the other side and Elizabeth pulled the sheet even higher up to her neck.

  “Are you cold?” His deep voice rumbled above her ear as his arm draped over her. “There is no fireplace in this room. I will ask for hot bricks to be brought.”

  Elizabeth shifted on her back, looking into his concerned face. “I am not cold.”

  He studied her face for a long moment. “My dearest,” he spoke tenderly. “You must know that we do not have to do anything you do not feel ready for tonight. I know that you are tired, as the last weeks have been exhausting for you.”

  She stroked his cheek. Hers was truly the best of men, and he belonged to her. “You are very kind.”

  “We have time, a great deal of time, our entire lives. No matter what your mother told you about the marriage bed, I do not wish for you to be scared of me.”

  “My mother?”

  “I imagine that she gave you some of her wisdom concerning marriage.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “She did. However, she did not scare me.”

  His expression told her that he did not quite believe her. “That is good, then.”

  “I am nervous about my nightgown,” she blurted after another moment of prolonged silence.

  “Nightgown?” He frowned, thinking for a moment. “You do not wish to remove it?” he guessed.

  “I do not wish for you to see it.”

  “I see. I will put the candles down.”

  Darcy took his time, walking around the bed to extinguish all the candles until the room was pitch-dark. He must see like a cat, because he found his way to the bed without any trouble.

  He lay down on his side, close to her, his thigh pressing against her hip. “We may wait until we are at Pemberley,” he whispered.

  “I do not wish to wait,” she said, the words easier to say in the dark. “I want you.”

  It was all the encouragement he needed. Their lips met. Those kisses were different than what she was used to. They were urgent and insistent. He wasted no time to reach to the neckline of her gown, tugging at the ribbons at the opening. Soon his hand slipped under the thin material to cup her breast. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him, wishing him to know that she welcomed his attentions.

  “I love you,” he murmured into her neck, his voice elated.

  “I love you too,” she whispered back.

  His hand moved down her body, reaching for the hem of her nightgown, which was tangled around her knees. He pulled the material up to her waist, his hand curling around the side of her hip.

  “Will you sit up?” he asked, and when she did, he finished removing her gown, tossing it away. His own nightshirt followed seconds later.

  Elizabeth gasped as he knelt between her legs and slowly lowered himself onto her body. Her heart began to race wildly as she felt him skin to skin.

  His fingers combed through her hair and he murmured, “My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”

  His hand moved down her body, stopping for a moment on her breast, then his fingers circled her belly button before settling between her legs. At his first touch she stiffened, but after a few minutes of light stroking she relaxed enough to enjoy his caresses.

  The darkness of the room enveloped her like warm, thick mist, making her regret that she had asked to put down the candles. She could hear her own laboured breathing and her moans, which to her ears resembled cries, as her husband left a trail of delicate kisses down her body, on her chest, waist, top of her thighs.

  “My love,” he whispered, his hand finding her face, cupping her cheek.

  “Fitzwilliam,” she breathed, pulling his head down for a kiss, which he enthusiastically returned.

  “May I?” he asked, nudging her legs farther apart, settling heavily between them.

  “Yes.”

  “It will hurt the first time.”

  In response she ran her hand down his back to the narrowing of his waist, pressing down, telling him that she was ready.

  The pain was the first thing she felt, stinging and deep, as if something sharp cut into her body. She pressed her lips tight, not to make a sound, not to worry him.

  “Are you well?” he asked, his trembling hand touching her face.

  “It is rather uncomfortable,” she lied.

  He sighed audibly. “It will pass. Allow me...” He cupped her knee, draping her leg around his side, surging deeper into her. Elizabeth saw bright stars dancing in front of her eyes, but they were not the result of pleasure, but a new wave of surging discomfort. Her mother had been right saying that it would hurt. She prayed that this torture would end soon.

  He began to move at last, panting and moaning above her. For the first time this night she did not feel the connection with him despite the fact that they were intimately joined. She turned her face to the side, noticing that the worst pain was gone. Still, the feeling of unnatural fullness was far from enjoyable. She breathed out in relief when seconds later Darcy groaned dee
ply, trembling above her. Then he dropped lifelessly down next to her, his head on her shoulder, his hand stretched out, cupping her breast.

  Within minutes his breathing calmed, and she thought that he’d fallen asleep, but then he moved.

  “Can I light the candle now?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she replied, reaching down for the sheet to cover herself. Smoothing her hair, she sat up against the headboard.

  Darcy moved to the other side of the bed, lighting the two candles on the bedside table.

  Elizabeth blinked her eyes at the dim light filling the small room.

  Her husband was beside her within seconds, cradling her to him. “Forgive me, dearest,” he whispered fervently, kissing her cheek and lips. “I know that I hurt you.”

  Elizabeth’s heart melted at his kindness. “I am well, Fitzwilliam. It could not be avoided.”

  “I love you,” he assured.

  “As I love you,” she smiled up at him.

  Her assurances calmed him down, and he lay back on his back, guiding her to rest on his chest. He was silent, kissing her head from time to time, his fingers tracing patterns on her bare arms and back.

  Elizabeth felt sleepy, but the dull ache between her legs was difficult to ignore. She felt that once cleaned she would feel much better.

  “Will you turn around for a moment please?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbow to look into his face. “I would like to clean myself,” she explained hastily, seeing confusion written on his face.

  “Of course.”

  Elizabeth pulled one of the sheets from the tangled mess of the bedcovers and wrapped it around herself.

  She moved to the edge of the bed and planted her feet on the hardwood floor. Her legs felt boneless, and she had to put an effort into walking straight. She stepped to the washstand, reaching for a clean cloth, turning her head to make sure that Darcy was not looking at her. He kept his word as usual, facing the other side of the room.

  She cleaned herself quickly, wincing slightly at the cool, wet cloth touching her tender flesh. When she was done she returned to bed.

  Darcy gathered her to him, kissing her lightly on the lips. “Are you well?” he enquired, searching her eyes.

  She smiled encouragingly. “Very well indeed.” It was the truth. The slight throbbing was still present, but she felt much better after washing herself. The love in Darcy’s eyes when he looked at her made her forget any discomfort.

  He must have understood her words quite differently than she meant them, though, as he began to kiss her in earnest again, his hand running down and up her sheet-clad body.

  “Do you think that we could...?” he whispered in her ear.

  “Again?”

  He smiled sheepishly. “There is no rule that only one time a night is allowed.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Elizabeth returned his smile. She was not particularly eager to repeat the experience so soon. Nevertheless, she guessed that the act would happen many times in the coming weeks and months. Also, she reminded herself of her mother’s assurances that only the first time would be painful.

  She ran her hand down his back, admiring how broad and strong his shoulders were.

  “Can we leave the candles?” he asked, kissing a path along her collarbone. “I want to see you.”

  Not waiting for her answer, he propped himself up on his lean but muscular arm, hooking his finger behind the sheet which was still wrapped around her, pulling it decidedly down. Elizabeth looked away. Such intimacy was still very new to her. Perhaps she should have asked for a glass of wine at dinner; it would surely have made her feel less inhibited.

  She shuddered and moaned when he kissed the underside of her breast.

  “Look at me,” Darcy pleaded, cupping her cheek.

  Elizabeth opened her eyes. His loving expression took her breath away for a moment. She had never felt so beloved by him.

  The second time was easier; the feeling of having her husband inside of her was alien, but also exciting, and mostly pain free.

  They snuggled together under the covers with Elizabeth’s face in the crook of his neck.

  “I am tired,” Darcy revealed as his fingers stroked her back.

  Elizabeth nuzzled the skin of his throat with her nose. The shadow of his day-old stubble tickled her, making her wrinkle her nose. “Let us sleep,” she proposed, yawning.

  “I do not wish to fall asleep. You are mine at last. We are together.”

  Lifting her head, she looked into his eyes. “We have been together for the last three months. I have been yours for all this time.”

  He shifted her in his embrace so she was now on her back and he hovered over her. “You are Mrs. Darcy now. There is quite a difference, I would say.”

  She smiled. “I suppose that there is.”

  He leaned down for a kiss. “Mrs. Darcy,” he murmured.

  Elizabeth responded to the kiss, but she was quite concerned that he would wish to engage in intimacy one more time. Who would have expected that? Especially with the reticence he displayed during their engagement. She did not wish to refuse him, but at the same time she was exhausted and aching in more places than one.

  “Fitzwilliam,” she spoke quietly as he was concentrated on kissing her neck, his hand curling around her hip.

  “Yes, my love?”

  Elizabeth cupped his face to look into his eyes. What she saw in them stopped her from saying anything. So much love and longing—how could she refuse him if he wished for it?

  “My Lizzy,” he murmured, carefully joining their bodies again.

  The last clear memory of her wedding night was her husband falling into her embrace, his hot, laboured breath on her shoulder. She must have fallen asleep then too, and quite soundly. She woke up close to dawn to tend to her necessities with her husband wrapped tightly around her.

  ***

  “Lizzy, wake up. Lizzy.” She heard Darcy’s voice, his gentle hand shaking her arm, but she refused to open her eyes. She felt as if she had fallen asleep only an hour ago, which was close to the truth. When she had gotten up around five, she was quite successful in waking her husband as well. If it had not been mortifying enough to use a chamber pot while being in the same room with him, even though separated by the screen, she had to listen to him doing exactly the same soon after. Then he thought that it was a good idea to engage her in another session of lovemaking. This time he had laid down on her from behind, lifting her bottom up by putting a pillow underneath it. Elizabeth had been much too stunned to protest. How could she face him now when they were not shrouded by convenient semidarkness? Four times in one night! Surely it was not expected behaviour!

  She felt cold air hitting her as he removed the sheet from her.

  “Your bath will turn cold,” he threatened.

  At last she opened her eyes. The curtains around the bed were closed, but the daylight was peeking through them.

  “What time is it?” she croaked.

  “Eight.”

  “Eight? We were supposed to depart at seven!”

  “There is no hurry,” he assured. “You slept so soundly. I know that you did not have a peaceful night.”

  Elizabeth ignored his smug expression. She winced upon sitting up. Her back hurt, her bottom as well, and her head pounded. She wondered whether there was a part of her that was not tender.

  “Come,” Darcy said, opening the bed curtains.

  It was a sunny day, and Elizabeth squinted her eyes against the sudden light. She tried to cover herself with her hands, and on seeing her embarrassment, Darcy reached for her robe, helping her into it.

  Elizabeth thanked him with gratefulness. He must think that she was silly to shy away from him after last night, when not only had he seen but also touched every part of her, but in the bright daylight her inhibitions returned.

  There was a small bathtub near the door. She must have slept through the servants bringing it in and filling it with water.

  On shaky
legs she walked across the room, and with the help of her husband she climbed into the tub.

  She moaned quietly as she submerged into very warm—almost hot—water. Bringing her legs to her chest, she supported her cheek on her knees and closed her eyes. She wanted to return to bed.

  “Do you wish me to wash your hair?” Darcy asked.

  Elizabeth had not planned to wash her hair today, but after last night she probably needed a good scrub all over, considering how sweaty she felt on falling asleep.

  “Yes, thank you,” she agreed, yawning widely into her open palm. She enjoyed his gentle ministration to her hair and was disappointed when he finished, wrapping a large towel around her head. Next he washed her back.

  “Will you manage with the rest?” he asked, placing a soft cloth and a bar of soap in her hand.

  She nodded. “I will.”

  He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I will see you soon at breakfast. Call me if you need anything.”

  She smiled at him, wishing to convince him that she was well. He smiled back, and after another kiss, this time to her nose, he departed. Only when he was walking away from her did she notice that he was already dressed, including his long boots and cravat. Only the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to above his elbows. His step was energetic, his silhouette straighter and taller than usual. She could barely move, and he was strutting like a soldier on a parade.

  Elizabeth was left alone. Still very much sleepy, she began cleaning herself, rubbing her skin gently with a soaped cloth. Her skin felt overly sensitive, and some places, like her neck, breasts and inner thighs, were so tender that it was painful to touch them.

  She sat in the tub for the longest time, until the water turned cold. She could not find the strength to finish her bath. She knew that she had to move soon. Darcy had already knocked at the door enquiring if she was well.

  Groaning in a most unladylike fashion, she climbed out of the tub, wrapping herself in a large towel left for her. She felt as if she was eighty and not one and twenty.

  To her surprise, she discovered that earlier Darcy had hung out one of the new long-sleeved dresses made of thick but soft wool, perfect for a day of journey in winter. He acted as her lady’s maid. A man of many talents he was.