by Ola Wegner
When he had met her, he had been drawn to her instantly, to her looks, eyes, smiles, her teasing, the sound of her voice, her laugh. At that time, they had been mere acquaintances, not even friends. He had been honest enough with himself to admit that he had been falling for her. However, as he had convinced himself not to pursue her, the only honourable way then had been to step aside and torture himself watching her from the distance.
In Kent, when he had decided to court her, she had continued sharpening her wit on him and teasing him. However, she had often seemed to overlook his presence, paying more attention to his cousin than to him, which, as his future mother in law would have said, had vexed him greatly.
When he had proposed, she seemed so stunned that he had to believe that it had not been only an act on her part, but that she had truly not expected his offer. Even though she had agreed, she had not opened herself completely to him. He could feel it, that she had resisted him at every step, keeping her distance both physically and mentally. It had taken him some time and effort to one by one weaken her defences.
Since their discussion over Jane and Charles, everything had changed completely. After their argument and her consequent accident, he had been terrified, in utter despair almost, that she would break their understanding. Her father would have supported her decision. He had expected the worst to happen, but to his astonishment, relief, and heart melting joy, she had opened herself completely to him and embraced him with her whole self. His days had been measured to the next visit at Longbourn when he would again see her and talk to her, hold her hand, have her listen to him attentively when he talked about his plans, concerns, doubts. She had let him in, accepted him. It made him smile widely every single day from the moment he awoke.
He did not quite know how he reached Longbourn, but soon his horse stopped in front of the house. Shaking his head at his own absentmindedness, he dismounted and gave the reins to a stable hand. The servant led him to the parlour, where he expected the ladies of the house to be gathered as they were every day. He put a pleasant expression on his face, reminding himself to be as amiable as possible to Mrs. Bennet. For Elizabeth, he had made a resolution to be more open and polite to the people around him.
He was more than taken aback to see Bingley sitting there among the ladies, taking tea. He had written a letter to him over two weeks ago, where he had confessed that he had been wrong in his assessment of Jane Bennet’s feelings last autumn, admitting that the lady in question had not been so indifferent as he had claimed her to be. He had shown the letter to Elizabeth, wanting to prove to her that he had truly wanted to repair his mistake.
“Mr. Darcy.” Mrs. Bennet rushed to him. “How good to see you. We did not expect you today.”
Darcy bowed, “I hope my visit is not an untimely one, madam.”
“No, of course not, although Lizzy has mentioned that she expects you tomorrow. However, you are, of course, most welcome at any time,” Mrs. Bennet stressed. “You see that Mr. Bingley has called. Why did you not tell us about his return to the neighbourhood?”
Darcy glanced at Bingley, who, for once, did not smile, but neither did he look displeased. “I assure you that I had no prior knowledge of it.”
Mrs. Bennet opened her mouth, her brow creased. “You did not?”
Bingley stood up. “Darcy, how are you?”
“I am very well, thank you. Thank you,” Darcy murmured, not knowing what to make of Bingley's expression and behaviour.
“I congratulate you on your engagement,” Bingley said, holding out his right hand. “I must admit that I was quite surprised when I read the announcement in the newspaper.”
“Yes, yes... We kept our understanding to ourselves for some time,” Darcy said and then looked at Jane. He tried to guess whether she was pleased, but like last autumn, her expression was hard to read. Elizabeth wanted her sister to be happy, and Darcy wanted Elizabeth to be happy. He hoped that bringing Bingley back would ensure it. He could hardly do more. He had confessed his misgivings to Bingley, and the rest depended on him.
“I believe that my sister is still in the gardens,” Jane mentioned in her usual sweet voice. “The doctor visited today and removed her braces a day earlier than we expected.”
Darcy blinked repeatedly in surprise, “Today? Is she well?”
“Oh yes, quite well,” Jane assured. “We could hardly keep her in the house as soon as she could walk freely on her own.”
Darcy walked to the window, hoping to see her.
“Perhaps you could look for her, Mr. Darcy, and bring her home for tea,” Mrs. Bennet suggested.
At that moment, he felt that he almost liked the woman. “Ah, yes, excellent thought, madam, excellent...,” he murmured, already retreating towards the door.
Outside, he scanned the area, to see Elizabeth sitting on the bench not far from the house. She was staring at the blue skies, her whole face smiling. She did not see him till he walked closer.
“William!” she exclaimed and ran to him.
“Easy.” He caught her by her arms. “You should not run. Your braces have been just removed.”
She shook her head. “I have no pain in my leg. It felt a bit stiff at first, but it was gone quickly.”
She hopped.
“No jumping,” he laughed, trying to stop her from bouncing.
“I am so thrilled to be able to move on my own,” she grinned. “I want to dance!”
He laughed at her enthusiasm and inability to stay still. He still found it hard to believe that this dark haired spitfire was a part of his life now. How could he live without her, realizing how sour his life had been before he had met her?
She lifted up on her toes and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Wait here for me. I will be back soon,” she whispered, smiling, and sprinted to the house.
Darcy opened his mouth to cry so she would not run, but then realized there was no use trying to stop her.
She returned within minutes, out of breath and beautifully flushed, her chest heaving. His eyes travelled from her sparkling eyes to her lips, her creamy neck and lower, and he felt himself growing hard again. This instant reaction he had for her was troubling and uncomfortable, especially when they were in company. After the wedding, he would keep her in their bedroom for a week at least, until his hunger would ease and he could think straight again and act normally around her. He would then, surely, have himself under good regulation like before.
She took his arm and led him where the small park started, where they could not be seen from the windows. She sat on the bench and with a gesture of her hand, invited him to take a place next to her.
He sat close, inhaling her sweet scent, fighting the temptation to kiss her neck. Then he noticed the package in her hands, a flat box wrapped in lavender coloured paper.
“What is that?”
She placed the item on his lap. “I made these for you,” she said, her voice shy.
He gave her a questioning look. He had not expected any gifts. His fingers touched the bluish ribbon that it was tied with.
“Please open...,” she hesitated, “I know that they are nothing special, but I wanted to repay you for your generosity, for all the gifts I have received from you.”
With careful fingers, he untied the bow, pushed the wrapping away, and opened the box. Inside there were neatly arranged white handkerchiefs with his initials embroidered in the corners.
“I know that the embroidery is a bit uneven and the material wrinkles here and there, but I never had patience for sewing the way Jane does,” she said after a moment, her voice unsure.
His throat squeezed; he could hardly remember receiving any gifts for years now. Apart from Georgiana’s drawings, or the new songs she had learned to play for him, nobody had thought to do something like that.
“They are beautiful,” his voice cracked. She must have made them especially for him during the time she had been convalescing.
Elizabeth gave him a doubtful look, “You do not have t
o pretend that they are something exceptional for my sake. I know that they a far cry from what you could buy in London.”
He took a calming breath, feeling once again in control of himself, his sudden emotions over her gift safely repressed. He hated to be so touched with things, and it happened quite often when he was in Elizabeth’s company. Good Lord, a moment ago he had been on the verge of crying over the fact that his betrothed had hand made a set of handkerchiefs.
“I meant what I said.” He looked at her, engaging his most serious voice.
“Will you use them?” she asked hopefully.
“Till they are completely worn out.”
“Seven.” A small finger pointed to the box. “One for each day of the week.”
He covered the box and put it aside, then wrapped her tightly in his arms. “Thank you so much, sweetheart.” He kissed her neck. “I will treasure them.”
“I want you to use them.”
“I will, I promise.”
He kissed her briefly and then crushed her to him again.
He felt her pushing away from him.
“Have you seen Mr. Bingley?”
“Yes, I have.” He pushed an escaped lock of hair behind her ear. “I was surprised to see him sitting in the parlour with your mother and sisters. He has not replied to my letter; I had no idea he would return.”
“Do you think he is offended?” she asked, placing her small hand on his thigh, her tone concerned.
“I do not know. It was hard to read his expression,” he said, his blood running faster again. Did she know what he felt when she touched him like that?
Her hand on his leg pressed harder. “I do not wish for Mr. Bingley to be angry with you. I do not want you losing a friend,” she said, her expression earnest.
At this very moment, Darcy could not care less whether Bingley would ever speak to him or not. He wanted her fingers to move higher, inside his thigh; it was all he was able to think about.
“I am so pleased he is back, though,” she continued, “Perhaps he and Jane will come to an understanding now. I think that he still likes her. He called yesterday in the afternoon and again today in the morning. Had it not been for your letter...You know how grateful I am that you wrote...” At some point in her speech, he stopped listening, concentrating entirely on the sensation of her being so close to him, her small hand settled on his thigh. He started to listen again when her fingers brushed a few inches higher.
“I have almost forgotten. I received a letter from Aunt Gardiner yesterday. She writes about our trip, it seems that she and uncle have certain concerns.”
He frowned. “Concerns?”
He did not want to hear that her relatives wanted to postpone the trip or, even worse, call it off.
“Yes. My uncle's business will not allow him to travel so far as the lake district this summer. They will only have time to tour Derbyshire.”
He relaxed instantly. “That is even better. I will have you at Pemberley for a longer time, not just a few short days. That is excellent news. I will take you to the lakes next spring, I promise.”
“My aunt wants to know whether you are willing to host us for the entire period of the stay, or should they look for accommodations at the inn in Lambton.”
“The inn!” he snorted. “Certainly not. You must stay at Pemberley. It is the best place for taking trips about the area.”
She looked up at him with smile. “Thank you. I will write to my aunt yet today.”
He leaned and whispered into her ear, his voice needy, even to his own ears. “Love, could we go somewhere where no one could see us?”
She gave him a quizzical look, biting her lower lip.
He nuzzled her temple. “Please, I will go away tomorrow. We will not see each other for weeks.”
She blushed and lowered her head. “You said I should not trust you.”
He kissed her neck, breathing into her ear. “Please.”
She stood up and extended her hand. He was about to reach for his gift, but she shook her head.
“Leave it here. We cannot be away for a long time anyway. No one will take it.”
She took his arm and led him towards the tall hedgerow. When they were close to it, she looked around and quickly stepped inside, between the thick branches. He stared for a moment before he felt her grabbing his hand and pulling him inside.
On the other side there was a small clearing with fresh grass, enclosed by a high brick wall, approximately his height.
She stepped to him. “No one will see us here. I used to hide in here as a child when I did not want anyone to find me.”
“I will not... go too far. “ He touched her arm. “I just want to hold and kiss you.”
“I know,” she whispered and pulled him close, her arms wrapped around his waist.
They began kissing, his heart melting at how sweetly and willingly she responded to him.
“I want to see your breasts,” he murmured, before he could think what he asked her for.
She stiffened instantly, removed her hands from his middle and stepped away. Idiot! he thought. Now he had offended her, and she would walk away from him or, worse, slap him.
Slowly, looking into his eyes, her hands went to the front of her spenser, and she opened it. She removed the garment and placed it neatly on the ground. Then she reached to her back and began unbuttoning her dress. As the yellow muslin loosened, she pushed the short sleeves aside, lowering the top of her dress.
Darcy stared at the newly uncovered flesh. Her stays pushed her breasts upward, and he could clearly see wide, dusky nipples through the nearly transparent chemise.
He took her mouth while his hand stroked down her back in slow caress till she relaxed. Then he pushed the straps of the undergarment and bared her. She was... he lacked the right words, perfect, beautiful. He had so many times wondered what her bosom looked like, but the reality exceeded his imagination. She was so lovely, and he was one lucky gent/gentleman to have her.
He forced himself to tear his eyes away from her breasts and move them up to her face. She was flushed, her face so unsure. At last she covered herself with her hands.
“No, please.” He pushed her hands away. “You are beautiful.”
She stepped closer, hiding her face and body from his view. “I am not.”
He kissed the top of her head. “You are to me.”
Keeping her close, his hand moved down to touch one plump, warm mound. He stroked her breast lightly, till she sighed and shivered. He felt her warm mouth on his jaw, as she strained against him.
Darcy wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to himself, wondering what he could do here, behind the hedgerow, for this short amount of time they had.
He looked into her eyes. “Trust me?”
She nodded without hesitation. He stepped back from her to remove his coat. For a short moment she made a gesture as if she had wanted to cover herself again, but then she forced her hands to stay back along her sides.
He spread his coat on the grass and quickly pulled her down with him.
“Comfortable?” he asked, reclining by her side. She smiled, her dark green eyes staring trustingly into his.
His lips suckled on the soft skin of her neck, but gently, so as not to mark her. He would do that after the wedding, and then he would not care whether someone would see it or not. Her breasts lured him down, and he began kissing, suckling and stroking. She strained against his hands and mouth, eyes closed, making sweet, little, clipped noises at the back of her throat. She must have liked it; he had already noticed before that she reacted passionately when he touched her breasts. He tried to envelop one mound in his hand; she was quite a handful to be sure.
He kissed the path back to her jaw line and whispered. “You must be quiet so nobody can hear us.”
She nodded, wrapping her arms around him and bringing him closer. As they kissed, with one move of his hand, he hitched up her skirt, his hand stroking his way inside her thigh. She gasped into hi
s mouth as he slid his fingers between her soft, warm thighs. Her legs parted, allowing him better access. He felt the soft, moist curls, and then the delicate flesh. He stroked and petted her for a moment only, but it was enough. Her pelvis pushed against his hand, her teeth bit her lower lip, her eyes squeezed tight, and she moaned. The next moment she was all relaxed, her hot creamy essence flowing over his fingers.
Recalling his earlier encounters with the opposite sex, he did not think that a woman could be so responsive, become aroused so quickly. He had not truly tried hard to please Elizabeth. He was a blessed man that she was so passionate. He knew that not all wives behaved in such a way. He remembered how his cousin had once confessed to him that his wife used to lie flat on the bed and say to him to just do it and leave her.
He lifted higher on his arm, gazing at her prone body next to him. She seemed to be sleeping, her eyes closed, her face turned into his waistcoat. He knew he could do everything now, and she would not protest. He crouched in front of her and lifted her skirt together with the mass of petticoats, piling everything around her waist. His hands rested on her knees and he spread her thighs wider. He combed the wet curls away from her centre to see better; her flesh was deeply pink, her small slit glistened with moisture. He tore at the opening of his breeches, and pulled out his manhood, directing it straight to her opening. He teased himself for a moment, touching the tip of his member against her flesh, at the same time knowing very well that he could not do it to her now. She deserved better than losing her virginity on the hard ground, without any real comfort or even complete privacy.
Heavily, he laid down on her body and slowly started rubbing himself against her. It was heaven to have her under him, even with their clothes as a barrier between them. She held on to him, cradling him to her. As he had been almost aroused since the moment he had seen her today, it did not take him long to reach his own release. He emptied his seed on her belly and dropped on the ground beside her.