by Lily Lord
“It was no scheme, Fitzwilliam.” She felt her own anger threatening to burst out, but held it in check. “Georgiana confided to me that she had met a young man. She believes herself to be in love. Nothing at all was said about the possibility of an engagement. I knew that she wanted to tell her beloved brother about him, as is natural. I did not, however, imagine that she had taken it this far in her mind, or that she would do anything at dinner beyond mentioning his existence.”
Elizabeth reached out to touch her husband’s arm, and this time he let her. “I am not… and I hope never to be… your enemy, Fitzwilliam. I am always on your side in any battle.”
Darcy looked at her with what might have been gratitude. But there was also sorrow in his gaze. “Georgiana is so precious to me. She is the only family I have left. I am entirely responsible for her.”
He gave a deep sigh. “You cannot imagine the rage that I experienced when I discovered that she had been taken Georgiana by the blandishments of my reprehensible former friend, Wickham. Had I not thought that it would only inflame the situation, I would have torn him limb from limb with my bare hands, such was my anger.”
He shook his head slowly. “I am not ready to think about sweet Georgiana being courted.” He made a noise that might have been a laugh or a sob. “Perhaps I never will be.”
Elizabeth put her hand on top of his. “Do you want to go upstairs?”
Darcy nodded. “I am sorry that our much anticipated welcome dinner for Georgiana ended on such an unhappy note.” He stood up. “I have no more appetite. Would you be so kind as to give my apologies to the cook. I know that she worked hard to make a special meal for my sister. Please ask her to give the rest of the courses to the kitchen staff with my compliments.”
Elizabeth watched him as he left the dining room, and it saddened her heart to see him look so upset. She spoke to the servants about the premature abandonment of the meal, and explained it by saying that Miss Darcy was feeling unwell after her journey. As she made her way up the large staircase to her room, she wondered if she was going to see her husband again this evening.
What a tumultuous day it had been. Earlier, she had been concerned about Darcy’s insistence on having marital congress in the middle of the day and his anger her reluctance to acquiesce. But now all her worries had shifted to the latest misunderstanding. It seemed that she had suddenly gone from being treated as a child in her parents house, despite being a grown woman, to being an adult in charge of household, staff, a sometimes recalcitrant husband, and now a new younger sister who was going through her own blossoming as a woman.
Everything had changed with her marriage to Mr. Darcy. She had a whole new life now, and it would take some time for her to become accustomed to it.
Elizabeth found herself sighing as she walked down the hall to her bedroom. Half of her thoughts were with her sweet young sister-in-law and her sorrow at the reception her brother had given to the mention of Mr. Stanley. The other half of her mind was contemplating her husband’s dismay at having made his sister cry. And all Elizabeth could do was watch and sympathize.
But there was in fact one thing she could do. When she arrived at her room, she was not surprised to find that Mr. Darcy was not there. He no doubt planned to sleep in his own room this night, a room that had been largely vacant since she had come home to live with him as his wife.
Naturally, a great house such as Pemberley allowed for independent sleeping accommodations for everyone in the household, as well as a private dressing room for the master and lady of the house. Had she wanted to, Elizabeth could have commandeered twenty different rooms for her own use. However, on most nights, after the servants were abed, Darcy would come to her. He had not missed an evening since they had arrived nearly three fortnights ago.
But tonight, he showed no sign of intending to join her. And Elizabeth wanted dearly to comfort him, this evening especially.
She called Fiona and had the young maid help her out of her gown and braid her hair for the night, then dismissed her and donned a dressing gown, pulling it tight around her middle. Taking a candle, she walked quietly down the hall to her husband’s bedchamber.
At his door, she knocked softly, and then entered. By the light of the fire, she saw Darcy standing and holding a glass of amber liquid. His expression was downcast. He looked up at her in surprise.
“Lizzy. Is everything all right?”
Elizabeth felt absurdly bold. It was of course very unusual for a wife to come into her husband’s bedchamber. Customarily, as she had learned, the man came to the woman. But why should she not go to her husband? There was nothing in the law or the Bible decreeing that she must sit and wait for his overtures.
Her first instinct was to tell him how worried she was, and how sad about how he was feeling. But she knew enough about Fitzwilliam Darcy after nearly two months of marriage to realize that such sympathy would not be welcome.
“In truth, I wanted to be with you tonight. I am so sorry that our much-anticipated dinner for Georgiana was not as felicitous as we would have hoped.”
Darcy put his drink down. “I am glad that you came. I want to be with you too.”
He approached and put his warm arms around her, and she could feel the sadness in him. He stroked her hair and caressed her cheek, and soon Elizabeth’s heart began to beat faster at the nearness of him.
She had nothing covering her except the sheer sleeping shift and her light dressing gown. She gave an involuntary shiver despite the low fire banked in the grate.
“You are cold my darling,” he said. A familiar mischievous smile arose on his lips. “Let us get under the bedclothes, and I will do my best to warm you up.”
Elizabeth looked up at him from under her lashes. “I would like that very much, Mr. Darcy.”
In an instant, she was lifted into his strong arms and deposited onto his bed. She had never slept here. It had a delicious masculine feel to it, and his own scent of leather and the outdoors permeated the place. She felt as though she were being welcomed into his private manly domain.
Faster than she would have believed possible, Darcy had removed his shirt, breeches, and stockings, and was climbing under the covers with her. His mind might have been distracted by the argument with his sister, but his body clearly had other intentions, and those were pointed straight at her.
As Darcy pulled her into his arms, Elizabeth repressed the urge to laugh. Was it always so easy to cheer men up? Apparently so.
Soon any urge to laugh was swept away with the sensation of Darcy’s strong hands caressing her body and warming her skin. He stroked her back and ran his palm down the curve of her hip. His fingers gently kneaded her round posterior, and as his arms roamed over all her most sensitive spots, his lips covered her mouth with hot kisses. She opened her own mouth to welcome his wicked and delicious tongue, and they commenced the familiar dance.
It was hard for her to believe now that she had been a virgin barely two months ago. Untutored and unsuspecting, she had ventured into this marriage with very little idea of what marital congress entailed. But the education that she had since gotten had made her a rabid enthusiast, and although Darcy might not be aware of it, it was just as difficult for her to resist his afternoon overtures as it was disappointing for him when she did so.
Now, she could release all inhibitions and give herself over to primal desires. Her dressing gown and shift having been removed promptly, Elizabeth was free to contact Darcy’s person at every point along his body. As he swung himself into position to enter her, he looked down with a glittering passion matched by a wondrous gratitude.
“Oh, Lizzy,” he murmured, “what did I ever do to deserve you?”
Kissing her mouth, and then her chest, and then swirling his tongue around they raised tips of her nipples, Darcy brought forth moans from Elizabeth’s mouth. He had his hands clasped atop both of hers so that she was held fast against the bed. She could feel the hot, velvet hard tip of his manhood at her pink petaled
entrance, and the scent of her juices rising made a musky perfume in the air.
Elizabeth looked up at her husband, waiting. She realized after a moment that he was smiling down at her, looking directly into her eyes, and all the while dipping just slightly to touch her peculiarly sensitive opening and then rising back up again. It was exquisite and excruciating. He was teasing her!
“Oh, please…” She murmured. “Please.”
Darcy’s smile grew wider. “Certainly, madam, if you wish me to enter…”
With a long deliberate movement he slid his body into deep connection with hers. Elizabeth gasped with pleasure. Immediately, her hips began moving toward his in a matching rhythm, and she closed her eyes to appreciate the sensations. Soft and hard at the same time. Sweetness and torture. The physical bliss which she had become so accustomed to was made more powerful by her deep connection to Mr. Darcy. Tonight, particularly, she was very gratified to be able to give him this joy.
When she opened her eyes again, her husband was looking at her with tears in his. His actions were slower tonight, more measured, more careful. It was as though he too was coming to a fuller understanding of the treasure they could be for each other.
As Elizabeth slipped from thoughtfulness to a state beyond thought, she felt her body glowing with the ecstasy of marital communion. Her skin was bright with heat and desire. She pulled her husband down to her and pressed her body against his with all her might, feeling the springy hairs on his chest against her exquisitely sensitive nipples. She moved her tongue in a sinuous motion around his, and she lost all concern about shocking him.
Darcy lifted himself again so that he was in a position to maintain maximum control of his movement. As Elizabeth watched, he seemed to manipulate his person in a way that elicited the most gasps of pleasure from her. She looked into her husband’s eyes and felt hypnotized as he slowly raised and lowered himself. Every movement was a delight, a honeyed sweetness rising in and out of her most sensitive slit.
She gave up all resistance. Her body and her mind surrendered to the delights of these sensations around her. The room seemed wrapped in a mist, a cloud of bliss. A fragrance combining the amber light of the low fire and the spicy richness of Darcy’s own scent rose around their intertwined bodies. Higher and higher Elizabeth climbed, her senses focused on a point of exquisite pleasure deep inside her. She felt as though she were walking on a high cliff, with a steep precipice on either side, leading down so far that she could not see bottom. But she was not afraid.
Delicately she picked out her steps, balancing on that knife edge, letting the winds of pleasure buffet her on each side. On and on she traveled as her beloved plunged his velvet rod into her innermost chasm. She was nothing now but breath and heartbeat. He was nothing now but dark eyes and a probing masculinity that pushed relentlessly on, powering her rise along the precipice.
At last, Elizabeth reached a point where she could no longer sustain the delicious torture of resisting the fall. As her moans became screams that released her breath to the heavens, she lost all sense of reason and unleashed her torrent of passion. Grasping Darcy’s broad shoulders she tightened her fingers and let her nails bite his thick muscles. A huge outflow and an immense collapsing took place as she let go and tumbled down the side of the precipice, moaning as she fell.
Her husband brought his lips down hard against hers, his tongue pushing boldly into her mouth, perhaps to stop her moans or perhaps only to satisfy his own powerful need. Elizabeth felt herself filled. Mouth and delta, heart and mind, body and soul.
As she eased down gently back to earth she felt the thundering of her beloved’s seed pulsing into her. Her own channel responded as if to swallow the precious cargo.
She and Darcy ceased moving as the echoes of their powerful co-mingling still rang throughout their bodies. Her husband looked into her eyes and his gaze held an openness and love that she had never seen before.
“Lizzy, my darling.” He moved a stray hair from her forehead with the tenderest of touches. “I shall spend the rest of my life in feeling gratitude for having you as my wife.” His mouth turned up in a small smile. “And I hope one day to be as patient and kind with you as you are with me.”
Elizabeth reached up and touched his precious lips, still warm from the passion of his kisses. “Mr. Darcy, believe me when I say that I feel every bit as grateful that Providence has brought me you as a husband. I have no doubt that we each still have much to learn about the other, but it is a journey that I look forward to taking with you for many Christmas seasons to come.”
Pemberley At Christmas
Book 2, Holiday Bliss
a Pride and Prejudice Intimate
“Mr. Darcy’s warm hand on the back of her neck began to slide down to her shoulder, slipping under her dress so that she could feel his fingers caressing her sensitive skin. Soon that hand began exploring the swell of her breast.”
Elizabeth awakened with a smile on her face, and opened her eyes as she stretched and yawned. Standing beside her bed was Mr. Darcy, his eyes alight with amusement.
“I suspect, Lizzy, that you will want to make your way back to your own sleeping quarters this morning. The servants will be quite surprised to find the lady of the house in the gentleman’s bedroom.”
Elizabeth sat up with a start. Of course. She had come to Darcy’s chamber last night when he did not visit hers. It was quite unusual for the woman to invade her husband’s space.
She gave Darcy an arch look. “It is a silly tradition that restricts all of the marital activity to the wife’s bedroom. Why should it not be the other way around?”
Her husband leaned over and wrapped his arms around her. “If you are going to give me the kind of unexpected delight that you did last night, my love, you may surprise me in my bedroom every night for the rest of my life. And damn the servants’ gossip.”
He bestowed a soft kiss on her lips and helped her out of bed. As she got onto her feet, Elizabeth felt suddenly dizzy.
“Oh dear. Fitzwilliam, I do hope that I will be able to enjoy the Gardiners’ arrival today. My stomach is still a bit queasy.” She shook her head. “I do not believe that I will take any breakfast this morning. I am going to return to my room and rest until I feel better.”
Darcy immediately looked concerned. He put his arm around her back to support her. “I think we should call the doctor, Lizzy. This is the second time in two days that you have felt ill.”
Elizabeth shook her head and waved away the notion. “I appreciate your concern, but I have no time today to be poked and prodded by a doctor.” She pointed toward the door. “With Aunt and Uncle Gardiner coming, Georgiana no doubt still unhappy about last night’s conversation, and Christmas Day tomorrow, I am going to be a very busy woman. I have no time for illness.”
“Then at least let me assist you in getting back to your own bedchamber.” Darcy’s dark eyes looked worried, and that concern touched Elizabeth’s heart.
“Yes, thank you, Fitzwilliam. Fiona will help me get ready for the day. I am certain that I will be fine in just a moment.”
Darcy opened the door and walked down the hallway with Elizabeth, his arm supporting her. The two servants they passed may have been surprised but succeeded in stifling any reaction as they stepped to the side and bid Mr. and Mrs. Darcy good morning.
When Elizabeth and Darcy opened the door to her own room, they startled Fiona, who was standing in front of Elizabeth’s looking glass staring at herself.
Her eyes flew open as she gazed at their reflection in the mirror. Turning quickly, she gave a sudden curtsy.
“Oh, ma’am! And Mr. Darcy. I didn’t… I am sorry… good morning.” And she bobbed down again in a second curtsy.
Elizabeth wanted to laugh, but instead she put her hand over her mouth. “Fiona. I think I am going to be ill.”
“Oh!” Fiona said once again. Her hands fluttering, she looked around the room for a suitable receptacle.
Darcy helped Eliz
abeth into a chair beside her bed. “Lizzy, darling, I am happy to stay at your side every minute. But if you would rather I removed myself so that you could have privacy…”
Elizabeth leaned back in the chair and was relieved to feel the moment passing. “I feel better now, Fitzwilliam. I think that I simply must rest for a bit. Perhaps I have been doing too much.”
He picked up her hand and looked into her eyes. “Please call for me at any moment if you need me.” He glanced at Fiona as if to assess her worthiness for taking care of his precious bride. Giving a brief bow, he walked to the door and opened it.
As he turned to leave, he spoke to Fiona. “ You will be certain to let me know if Mrs. Darcy needs me.”
Fiona’s eyes grew wide and she curtsied once again. “Yes, Mr. Darcy. I will, sir, Mr. Darcy. Sir.”
He shut the door and Elizabeth closed her eyes. “Fiona, could you get me a wet cloth for my forehead?”
“Of course, ma’am. Will you be getting into bed, Mrs. Darcy? Should I get you your dressing gown?”
“No. I believe I simply need a few moments of peace.” Elizabeth was relieved when Fiona placed the moist cloth on her forehead and left the room. This was not a day on which she could afford to lie about. She was not even dressed yet.
There was so much to do. The greens had been brought in for decorating all the great rooms of the house, and though Elizabeth had been keen to start placing them in the last week, Mrs. Reynolds had been adamant that it was bad luck to have Christmas greenery arranged too early. So Elizabeth had reluctantly decided to be patient about getting the house ready for the season. But that was the very reason why there was still so much left to do.
She knew she had more challenges ahead with Mrs. Reynolds. They had already spoken about the plans for the traditional Christmas party for the tenants and townspeople, and Mrs. Reynolds had the usual menu completely arranged. Christmas puddings and other seasonal treats were definitely going to be part of the celebration.
However, Elizabeth’s scheme to permit the young people the opportunity to dance in the evening was meeting with significant resistance. Dancing had never been included before. The housekeeper was concerned that it would encourage loose morals, but as the new Mrs. Darcy, Elizabeth was determined to liven things up a bit and bring Pemberley House into the nineteenth century.