Apprehension and Desire

by Ola Wegner

  He kissed her belly and then opened her legs, shifting between her legs, spreading them. She arched like a bow when he kissed the inside of her thigh the first time. Happy with her initial response, he lay comfortably on his stomach and placed her warm thighs over his shoulders. He looked up at her; she did not protest but covered her face with hands.

  His aim was to find a place he had heard about, which should bring her pleasure. He pushed her black tight curls aside to uncover delicate, pinkish flesh. There it was, above her opening, a small button of flesh hooded for protection. He touched his mouth to the place and began to kiss it gently.

  For a moment she was still, but then she began moving her hips and panting. He discovered that she reacted more violently when he did not touch the button directly, but only fleetingly, instead, kissing and touching around it.

  “Ahh... ahhh....” her moans rose in volume, her belly was trembling and she pulled at the bed sheets. Confident that he found the right way to please her, he doubled his efforts and made her have her pleasure once again.

  She was limp all over after that. He could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest when he ran his hand over her body, touching her right breast.

  He cradled her to him for a while till she calmed down.

  “I cannot believe it,” she whispered, opening her eyes, smiling at him. “I thought I would die, that my heart would not bear it.”

  He laughed and kissed her forehead. Crouching in front of her, he reopened her thighs and not hesitating, pushed into her. He watched, fascinated as his manhood disappeared into her small opening, inch by inch. At one moment she hissed quietly, her face twisted in pain, her back arched. She placed her hands on his belly and pushed him away, her eyes wide. He pulled out at once and saw blood on his member.

  She turned on her side with her back to him, bringing the sheet with her, curling into a ball.

  For Darcy it was like a bucket of cold water poured over his head. He felt like a complete brute. What was he supposed to do now?

  At last he moulded his body behind her, drawing the covers over both of them.

  “Are you well?” he whispered, touching her arm.

  Slowly, she turned her head, and looked at him, her expression troubled. “I did not expect it to feel quite like that.”

  “Like what? Was it that painful? Unbearable?”

  She searched his eyes and then slowly shook her head. “Do it again,.I think it should be better now. It was probably like that only the first time.”

  “I am not sure. If you could have seen your face when I...”

  She turned on her back completely, “Please, do it again.” She put her hand on his bottom, trying to bring him closer.

  “Please, I shall be fine,” she was coaxing him.

  Darcy nudged himself between her thighs and she wrapped her hands and legs tightly around him. He pushed again, this time just a little bit, and stared into her face.

  “Is it painful?”

  She smiled. “No. I think... that I am getting used to the feeling.”

  He was not sure whether she was completely sincere, because she hid her face into his chest, locking her arms tightly around his shoulders. He could hardly stop himself anymore and began to move. With each move, each thrust into her tight, warm, wet sheath it was getting harder and harder to be gentle. Soon, he lost himself completely in her, pushing her against the headboard, rocking the old, heavy bed.

  He emptied into her and dropped onto her damp body.

  After a long moment, he lifted on his arm and looked into her face. She smiled.

  “You are well?”

  She nodded.

  He kissed the top of her breast and got out of bed, pulling on his dressing gown. He walked into a dressing room to the washstand and wetted the towel to clean himself. He returned to her with a clean one, sat on the edge and pulled the covers aside.

  She stopped his hand, “I will do that.”

  “No, no... It is my responsibility,” he pushed her on her back and opened her legs.

  “Good God, Elizabeth...” he stared at the red, rather sizeable stain on the sheet. He touched her; she was still bleeding.

  “I am sorry. I ruined the bed.”

  He touched the towel to her thighs, wiping her clean. Soon new blood appeared. “We must call a doctor!”

  “No!” she cried. “We cannot.”

  “Elizabeth, do you want to bleed yourself to death?”

  “I will not; it is passing.”

  He touched the clean part of the towel to her secret place again. There was a fresh patch of red on it.

  “You hurt when I asked?” he asked angrily.

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Why did you not tell me, stop me?”

  “I...” she faltered, “I thought that it would lessen in time, and you... seemed to enjoy yourself so much.”

  He ran his hand over his face. She was sitting, curled on the bed, clenching sheets to herself, not looking at him. What was he supposed to do now? He had expected some blood, but not that much. What he had done to her? Did he tear something he should not have? It could not be her monthly courses because she had just had them. He stared at the stained towel for a moment and hurried to bring a new one.

  He returned in a minute and sat on the edge of the bed and brought her to him, “I am sorry.” He stroked her hair, his arm around her. “It is my fault. I am a selfish oaf.” He nudged her thighs open, putting the clean, wet towel between them.

  “No, it is me,” she whispered against his chest, her face wet from tears. “There must be something wrong with me.”

  He cupped her face. “What are you saying, sweetheart? You are delicate, that is all. I heard of bleeding the first time, I am only not sure how long it should last. Perhaps we should wake Mrs. Gardiner. She should know what to do.”

  “William, please, no, do not even think of that!” Her eyes pleaded with him, “I would die of shame. No, you can tell absolutely no one. This is such an intimate matter, please.”

  As she was nearly hysterical, he said nothing more and began to rock her, till she calmed down.

  He took out the towel and saw the red stains again. Will it ever end?

  “Are you in pain now?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Truly? You are not lying to me?” he asked sharply, frowning at her.

  “Truly. I feel well.”

  He kissed the top of her head and went to bring another towel. As he found no clean one left, he utilized his own clean nightshirts, taken from the neat pile in the closet. When he returned and wiped her clean again there seemed not to be any fresh blood.

  “I think it stopped,” he said, the relief in his voice great. “Thank you, God,” he whispered.

  “What will you say about the bed and the towels, the blood...?”

  “My valet is very discreet. He will deal with it. Do not fret.”

  He disentangled from her to bring her nightgown. He put it on her.

  “May I sleep here?” she asked shyly.

  “What kind of question is that?” He scolded gently and helped her under the covers. “You think that I will let you go before morning?”

  He checked one more time whether she bled before putting out the candles. Thankfully, she did not. They moved to the other side of the bed, away from the bloody stains. As she fell asleep, snuggled against him, he decided that he needed to learn more about what had happened, ask someone knowledgeable, perhaps some trusted midwife, so he would know what to do if it repeated itself the next time. Her bleeding had nearly given him apoplexy.

  When he woke up early in the morning, he was alone in bed, but there was a letter resting on the opposite pillow.

  Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he took it and saw his name written on top of it, in Elizabeth’s handwriting.

  “Elizabeth?” he called, getting out of the bed.

  He walked into the dressing room but no one was there. He pulled on his dressing gown, and sat in a ch
air near the window, frowning over the letter.

  Then he opened it and started to read.

  Dearest William

  If you are reading this letter it means that I lacked the courage last night to tell you everything in person.

  I know that I must say this to you so I will start without preamble.

  There is one matter which has bothered me greatly since the day I accepted your proposal of marriage. I want you to know that today I can honestly say that I care for you. I have fallen in love with you over the past months as I had the opportunity to know you better and discover how wonderful a person you are. My fault is that I did not love you when I accepted your proposal back in Kent. To be perfectly sincere, I did not like you particularly back them. I blamed you not only for Jane’s unhappiness but for Wickham’s supposed misfortunes as well. I agreed to marry you that evening at Hunsford because I feared for my future and knew that a marriage to you would ensure me security.

  It all started at the inn where we stopped for the change of horses as I travelled with Sir William and Maria to Kent. I saw my childhood friend there, Anne Parker...

  ***

  An hour later, Darcy knocked at the door to Elizabeth’s room. Her maid opened and stood unmoving for a minute, her eyes round, staring at him, mouth open.

  He walked inside and closed the door. The bed was empty and already neatly made.

  “Is Miss Bennet in her rooms?”

  She nodded. “Finishing her bath, Master.”

  “Leave us alone now, and you have not seen me here. Do you understand?” He glared at the servant, using his most imposing, severe tone.

  “Yes, Master.” The girl bowed and hurried out of the room.

  Darcy turned the key in the lock so no one would interrupt them and walked farther inside the spacious chamber. The room was situated in the guest part of the house, but still placed as close to the family wing as possible.

  The door leading to the dressing room opened and Elizabeth walked in, wearing a dressing gown, towelling her hair dry.

  “William!” she gasped.

  He stepped closer, encircled her waist with his arm and walked her to the window.

  “Good morning, my love,” he kissed her brow, taking in her features, which he found a bit pale, “Are you feeling well?”

  “Yes, I am well.”

  He lowered his voice. “No more bleeding this morning?”

  She shook her head.

  He was not sure whether she tried to shield him from the truth, so without warning, he brought her closer, opened her dressing gown, and slid his hand inside, down her belly and between her thighs.

  “William!” she scolded, blushing to the roots of her hair.

  He pulled out his hand, thankfully clean of any blood, smiled and respectfully retied her dressing gown.

  “You have not... found my letter?” she asked, as he sat on the chair and pulled her onto his lap.

  “On the contrary.”

  Her face reflected her astonishment, “You are not angry with me?”

  He shook his head and leaned to kiss her. “I can only be angry with myself for being a conceited and arrogant fool when I proposed to you,” he whispered, looking into her eyes.

  “I took you for granted, and I should not have,” he continued. “Please believe me, that I cringe every time I remember the manner of my proposal. I have not yet apologized to you because I was ashamed of myself, I wanted to forget my behaviour, never return to it. You were right about all that you said to me at Ockham Mount, when you mentioned that you wondered whether my parents had taught me such behaviour towards people.... You cannot imagine how these words have haunted me since then.”

  “What about me?” she questioned with feeling, “Do you not find the reasons why I accepted you repulsive, mercenary?”

  “I was not that surprised with your confessions after reading the letter, love,” he replied calmly. “I could not know the exact circumstances, of course. However, do you not think that I must have felt from the very beginning that something was wrong? You believe that it did not bother me when you kept your distance from me, stiffened in my arms, resisted my touch, even the most innocent one? I was determined to maintain our understanding, knowing I could not lose you.”

  She was shaking her head. “I cannot believe that you do not think badly about me. Had I not seen my childhood friend at that inn and gotten frightened and upset with the reality of her current life, which very well could have been mine one day...”

  He put a finger on her lips. “Then you would have refused my proposal, saying I was not a gentleman, claiming that you could not marry a man who had ruined the happiness of your sister, who destroyed Wickham’s life. I would have ridden away from you, hurt, furious and probably we never would have seen each other again.”

  Elizabeth fell silent and supported her head on his arm.

  “The most important thing is that all that misunderstanding is behind us and that we love each other now, do we not?”

  “Yes, we do,” she agreed sweetly.

  They held on to each other tightly for a few moments, taking mutual comfort in their embrace and the closeness.

  Reluctantly, Darcy nudged her off his lap and stood up, “I should go, but there is one more matter.” He frowned heavily, “You must tell me whether or not your courses have come next month. I want to be prepared if we made a baby last night.”

  “I do not think that it will happen,” she said lightly, “It was only one time.”

  “You doubt my abilities, Madam,” he laughed. “I assure you that one time is quite enough.”

  He kissed her forehead and walked to the door, unlocking it. “We shall see each other at breakfast.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “You seem a bit pale, Elizabeth,” Mrs. Gardiner noted as she looked at her niece over the breakfast table.

  Elizabeth glanced at her aunt and then quickly lowered her eyes. “No,... I am well.”

  The older woman gazed intently at the girl, feeling that something was amiss; it was uncharacteristic for Elizabeth to answer one’s question without looking into the enquirer’s eyes. “Have you slept well?”

  The hot blush bloomed on Elizabeth’s face. “Yes, quite well,” she answered, her voice raspy, her eyes focused on the content of her plate.

  Mrs. Gardiner frowned and squinted her eyes as she stared at the undeniably pretty brunette in front of her. Could she see faint red marks on her graceful neck and around the collar bones? They must have snuck away somehow yesterday and managed to have a private moment long enough for Mr. Darcy to apply those marks. Unless...

  Mrs. Gardiner shifted her attention to Darcy. Contrary to Elizabeth, he did not avoid her eyes, but held her gaze calmly for a moment before returning it to his betrothed, who was still very much flustered.

  Mrs. Gardiner looked at her husband who, she was not surprised, did not seem to notice anything, and was entirely concentrated on his scrambled eggs and bacon. Men, she snorted quietly under her breath.

  “Excuse me,” Darcy stood up, folding his napkin. “I need to deal with some urgent correspondence.”

  “But of course, of course.” Mr. Gardiner nodded good humouredly. “We understand.”

  Darcy walked around the table, placed a kiss on the top of his sister’s blonde head, before stepping to Elizabeth.

  “We shall see each other later,” he said, as he took her hand and lifted it to his lips.

  There was such a great deal of intimacy in this small gesture that it instantly convinced Mrs. Gardiner that indeed something had happened between these two last night which caused Elizabeth to be so changed this morning. She could hardly wait for the opportunity to share her suspicions with her husband.

  Soon after Darcy left the room, a servant entered and walked to Elizabeth.

  “Letters for Miss Bennet.” He bowed, holding the silver tray in front of Elizabeth. “Mr. Darcy assumed that you would like to read them without delay.”

 
Elizabeth glanced at the handwriting as she dabbed her lips with a napkin. “These are from Jane!” she cried out. “I wondered why she had not written.” She took the letters and examined the address. “This one was misdirected...” she frowned. “No wonder, the direction is written very ill indeed. It is so strange. Jane is always so neat about her writing.”

  She stood up. “Will you excuse me?”

  Mrs. Gardiner smiled. “Of course, my dear. Go and read your letters while your uncle and I take a turn around the park.”

  “We will?” Mr. Gardiner questioned, looking longingly towards the fresh newspaper, just brought by the servant.

  “Yes, we will.” His wife glanced at him meaningfully.

  Georgiana lifted herself as well. “I think I will excuse myself to the music room.” She pronounced in her usual quiet, drawled voice. “Because of our trip, I did not practice enough yesterday.”

  When the Gardiners were left alone, Mrs. Gardiner rose hurriedly from her place and walked to her husband.

  “Come, we must talk.”

  “Can we not sit here for a while?” He patted his rounded belly. “You know I like to rest a while after a good meal.”

  “I know, and I would not ask you, but it is truly of great import, and we do need some privacy.”

  Mr. Gardiner sighed, pushed the chair away and allowed himself to be guided out of the room.

  “Well?” he questioned, as they were outside on the path leading to the park. “What is the matter?”

  “Did you not notice anything at breakfast?”

  Mr. Gardiner lifted his shoulders. “Should I have noticed something?”

  “Yes, Elizabeth has been pale and not acting her usual self.”

  He shook his head. “I have not noticed. She looked the same as usual to me.”

  “Why is it that you never see anything?” Mrs. Gardiner questioned, irritated.

  “I think it will be much easier for both of us if you simply tell me what I should have seen.” Mr. Gardiner said, his voice resigned.

  His wife took a deep breath and announced. “I think that Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth anticipated their vows last night.”