by Suzan Lauder
“What is it that has you so pensive?” Fanny asked, interrupting his thoughts. He smiled at her, glad that she had approached and offered a welcome reprieve from his ruminations.
“I was thinking of how much I love you and how lucky we have been in our lives. I am also sad to give up my daughters, even if the matches are good.”
“They are respectable and illustrious men, good men who love them without hesitation and who are willing to protect and honour them and be the best of husbands.”
“But I shall miss them. Pemberley and Shelton are a long way to travel. I will have to hope that Darcy and Bingley will bring them here a few times a year.”
“You will still have three at home.”
“If I have read correctly the way Henry Lucas looks upon our Mary, it will not be for long.”
“He will not offer for her until he is established and can support a family. You have time still.”
“I suppose Lydia will be concern enough to make up for two gone.” Bennet sighed.
“That she will. Just think of the excitement we will have in learning how to curb her impulsiveness!”
“Indeed.”
“She gets it from you, you know.”
“How so? I pride myself on my ability to think things through before acting.”
“You did not hesitate when you decided to become Thomas Bennet and marry me. You may be calm and collected now, but I cherish the day that you agreed to take me into your care when my cousin died. You gave me Jane and Lizzy that day. I was in love with them immediately.” Fanny smiled.
“And with me much later.”
“We needed time to grow into our love. Not all in life is so impulsive!” she said archly, and they shared a smile.
***
Although Catherine Bennet had been the first dressed, the mother of the bride was the first to appear. Mr. Bennet looked upon her with awe as she descended the stairs, and he placed a worshipping kiss on her hand when she came to his side.
Her still-blonde hair was twisted into a sophisticated knot atop her head. A bronze-gold turban, dressed with a short plume of curled ostrich feathers dyed gold, was wrapped about her hairline, with several carefully placed, dishevelled-looking curls peeking out in front.
Her gown spoke of an elegant married woman who still retained much of the beauty of her youth. It was a cream-coloured, satin gown with a bronze-gold robe atop. The robe had beautifully detailed, slashed sleeves with inlays in soft cream satin and flat lace along their length with rosettes inset into the sheer, bronze-gold bands about her arms. A tulip-shaped hemline with cream-coloured lace and gold stitching enhanced the overdress.
Long, cream-coloured gloves clung to her arms, and above were armlets of gold with nacre inlays. She wore gold jewellery: an intricately worked filigreed choker and matching ear-bobs with teardrop pearls suspended from the fine, golden threads. Fanny carried an ivory fan that her brother Gardiner had given her as a gift and had slippers of embroidered satin on her feet.
As expected in the Bennet family, the rest of the ladies were nearly late with Kitty’s last-minute fussing over the details of each sister’s appearance. She had chosen a strikingly simple gown of pale rose silk for herself. Her headdress was a bugle band that matched the border of her gown.
Mary and Lydia escaped much of her notice and were in the hall before the brides came down. The two girls were dressed in gowns of the latest colours, the former in white with marigold velvet and Vandyke lace accents, the latter in Grecian-styled fawn with a matching twisted fillet to tame her unruly hair. Mary stood with equanimity, wishing she had a book, and Lydia tried not to show her impatience by holding her hands demurely in front of her.
Finally, the remaining girls joined the party, and Bennet handed each into the carriage.
***
Darcy and Bingley had little forbearance as they stood at the altar. The wait seemed to be more than protracted, but finally Thomas Bennet appeared at the end of the aisle with the two eldest Bennet daughters, one on each arm. The gentlemen at the altar were oblivious to the father, as their eyes were each on one of the ladies approaching them.
Lady Jane Lydon looked beautiful in a white gauze gown over a white satin slip, trimmed in celestial blue velvet that complimented her eyes. The close-fitted sleeves had narrow, white satin piping along their length and a narrow, blue velvet ribbon around the arm. There were white velvet rosebuds and lace edging the neckline and delicate hand detailing in the tucks and folds of the tastefully abbreviated bodice. Pearls edged the shoulder bands. A wider velvet sash in celestial blue was tied at the high waist, and a bouquet of matching velvet roses was featured at one side. The overdress dropped behind her in a graceful demi-train and was trimmed along the edges with lace and accented with a row of pearls in undulating waves.
Her fair hair was dressed with delicate plaits woven through and about the base of a neat bun. She wore a fine tiara of pearls with a sprig of orange flowers, and Mechlin lace draped behind. Her necklace, ear-pendants, and bracelets were of pearl. White gloves and blue-trimmed, white satin slippers completed her elegant presentation. Bingley wore a blue, uncut-velvet suit to complement his future wife’s gown.
Darcy let out a sigh when he saw Lady Elizabeth Lydon on her father’s arm. She was soft and feminine in pearl-coloured crape over white satin. The skirt was draped to show her shape; similarly, the fitted bodice dipped deeply both front and back with dropped sleeves, revealing her creamy white skin to perfection. Quilled, primrose-coloured satin graced the neckline, sleeves, and hemline.
Her dusky hair fell over her temples in thick ringlets, and she wore a pearl-coloured, swans-down-trimmed bonnet with draped Belgian lace attached in back. Three saucy curls dropped carelessly at the nape of her neck, and her only jewellery was the garnet cross her father had given her at her come-out. Pearl-coloured kid gloves extended above her elbows, and white slippers of Denmark satin were on her feet. She smiled at Darcy with her rosebud lips as she regarded his handsome frame in his formal attire.
Bennet’s eyes misted as he handed his daughters to their respective bridegrooms, all the feelings and thoughts of the morning rushing again through his mind. As he swallowed, he felt tightness in his chest that spoke of loss yet joy for this day. He reluctantly turned to take his place beside his wife and observed that she already had a handkerchief ready for her own tears.
***
As the Bingleys arrived at Netherfield following the wedding breakfast, the Darcys’ carriage was already bound for London with the curtains drawn. Lady Elizabeth Darcy had all but attacked her new husband before he could draw the curtains. She knew she had caught him off guard by the little sound he made when she eagerly threw her body against his and assaulted his lips with a fervour unleashed after weeks of sharing burning glances across drawing rooms and hurried, frantic fumbling in darkened hallways.
Ever since their abruptly interrupted interlude in Darcy’s carriage six weeks earlier, she was craving sustenance for her powerful physical needs. She felt a longing for more closeness than seemed to be possible; she wanted to melt their bodies together. Being relatively innocent, she knew not how long the actual act would take, but she had been sorely tempted to abandon all propriety and steal away with Darcy to try to find out. Now there were no more boundaries, and she was ready to consummate her marriage as soon as humanly possible.
Darcy’s surprise did not stop him from responding. He parted his lips and entwined his tongue with hers. Elizabeth moved her husband’s hands from her waist to her breasts as she unbuttoned his waistcoat and pulled his shirttails out of his breeches. She climbed atop him to straddle his lap.
“Lady Elizabeth Darcy, do you know what you are you doing to me?” Darcy groaned helplessly.
“I am ravishing you, my beloved,” she replied in a breathy voice.
“Although I am delighted with your enthusiasm, I think you should reconsider your intentions.”
“It is not as if we have not been in th
is situation before, Fitzwilliam,” she said, then added with a loud whisper, “We can be discreet.”
“Yes, my love,” said he, “but I would prefer our wedding night in a more comfortable setting. I fear I must educate you on the pleasures we can achieve while saving our true union until we are comfortably in our wedding bed.”
And how must we accomplish this?” she asked impishly, thrilled by the sound of his suggestion, though not sure exactly what he meant.
He gave her a crooked smile, and then his lips and tongue found hers again. She triumphantly ascertained that he was adjusting his response to match her ardour. She ran her hands over his elegantly muscled chest, savouring the feeling of the hardness beneath his clothes, then down his body to where his breeches hid secrets untouched by her fingers, and she was pleased to hear his sensuous groan in response.
Darcy tugged her dress down until her bared breasts were cradled in his large hands. He kissed them reverently, and then grasped her about the waist and laid her back along the seat. He covered her body with his as their mouths merged once again.
She succumbed to his caresses and allowed him to release her lips only to pay appropriate attention to her breasts. At once, the aggressor became the captive as she lost control of her senses. She closed her eyes and allowed herself just to feel the glorious awareness of his sucking and nipping. Every inch of her body was alert, begging to be touched.
As his fevered kisses returned to capture her lips, she felt his hand sliding under her skirt, ascending along her stocking, skimming along the supple skin of her inner thigh, and she was wild with the need for his fingers to touch her where she was aching to be touched. She was writhing under him, running her hands over his back, unable to think about anything but where his hands were, where his mouth was, where the tension was building in her own body, craving release. She was desperate with anticipation until he found the place where he could provide her with the most pleasure.
It did not take long for Darcy’s ministrations to appropriately provide her with a satisfaction that he had theretofore been unable to complete. As she reached her peak, he stifled her cries with a passionate kiss. Even after Elizabeth was exhausted from her own overwhelming physical experience, she was still generous enough to the love of her life to inexpertly bring him to completion with her caresses, and he was just barely aware enough to provide her with a handkerchief to aid in the service. She found the expression on his face as he took his pleasure to be enthralling. He collapsed on top of her.
At length, he pulled back to look at her, and they both smiled in smug satisfaction.
“You must understand, my love, I had to take control of the situation before you mounted me and the consummation of our marriage was within the hearing of my coachmen,” he said hoarsely between kisses.
“I was very likely to do exactly that.”
She sighed in response to a trail of kisses he dropped along her neck.
“But trust me, we will enjoy our first time much more in the privacy and comfort of our chambers,” he said while nuzzling the spot between her breasts. “I intend to make love to you in the sitting room and dressing rooms as well. In fact, I look forward to having you in every bedchamber in Darcy House and Pemberley. Does that please you, my love?”
She looked at him with incredulity. “Miss Bingley said there are over one hundred bedchambers at Pemberley!”
“Please, do not mention Miss Bingley on our wedding day. Thinking of her was how I managed myself while we were courting.”
“Fitzwilliam, why would you think of Miss Bingley while we were courting?”
“To cool my ardour, my love, before your father caught me about to compromise you,” he said with a laugh, showing his handsome countenance to its best advantage.
***
“It was a lovely wedding. You impressed everyone, even the high and mighty Lady Catherine and the superior Miss Bingley,” Thomas Bennet said to his wife as they settled at the end of the day. They were propped up in bed, and he had one arm wrapped around her protectively while she rested her head on his shoulder.
“Thomas, please do not mock our guests when their compliments were so kind.”
“I suppose I should not. But it was truly a lovely day,” he commented while he traced gentle lines up and down her arm.
“It was.”
“And the mother of the bride was as handsome as the brides.” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
“I appreciate your admiration, but were your daughters not extremely beautiful? It was worth all the work and all the shopping.”
“They were as beautiful as I have ever seen them, the decorations and flowers were second to none in the county, and the wedding breakfast demonstrated your usual fine taste. You do not need my praises, though. You know you are the most accomplished and gracious of hostesses.”
“With people from the first circles of society on hand for the festivities, I was unsure of myself, so I do thank you for your compliments.”
“Do you regret it? That you have suffered a life away from the first circles because of my insistence that I be unknown?” he asked.
“I do not. I would never give up what we have for that kind of life. I am reminded of something you once told me long ago: think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure. I am resolved not to regret what could have been and to rejoice in what we have now.”
“It is a good philosophy, though sometimes hard to follow,” he replied, and they shared a look of silent understanding such as takes place between a husband and wife.
“Fan, the girls’ connections may now be Shelton’s, but I am absolutely, irrevocably Thomas Bennet, your husband. I am content to be with you here in our quiet little town and proud of all you have become. You have made two beautiful babies with me, and we have shared three others as if they belonged to us both. Our country life may not be desirable to others, but our felicity will be envied by all who see it.”
“That makes me very happy.”
“Good night, my love,” he said, dropping a brief kiss on her lips before he pulled his arm away and began to turn towards his side of the bed to retire. She reached out and pulled his head back towards her for a more passionate kiss.
Any married couple knows the promise of such a kiss.
“It is that way, is it?” Thomas Bennet turned to acquiesce to his wife’s amorous advances. And with that, he expressed himself with his body as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do.
Epilogue:
A third wedding.
June 1815
Longbourn, Hertfordshire
As she entered the dressing room, Mrs. Bennet could not help but realize that her assistance would be redundant, so she stayed aside and watched the scene with twinkling eyes.
Four sisters were bustling about as the maid helped Mary Bennet into a white organza dress overlaid with the sheerest silver batiste and an embroidered pattern of azure flowers sprinkled all over. The armbands of the sleeves were trimmed with tiny, embroidered flowers in a slightly darker shade; the sleeves themselves were draped with whisper-thin puffs of the finest lace. The square bodice and shoulder straps were similarly finished, and the high waistline was trimmed with a narrow band of delicate, flat, silver lace. The skirt culminated with a pair of garlanded flounces that featured satin rosettes in various shades of blue and silver along their tops.
The skilled hand of her lady’s maid had applied tongs and imagination to her light brown hair so that perfect curls framed her flushed face and softened her features. A fall of white lace trailed behind a diadem of white roses. She was wearing small, pearl eardrops and a short necklace of pearls. Mary’s long, white kid gloves, gold bracelets with cameo trim, and simple, white satin slippers complemented her bridal ensemble.
As usual, Kitty Bennet was the most involved in the fussing and preening of her elder sister, giving specific instructions to the maid in order for Mary to shine on this special day. Mary was a b
it annoyed at all the attention but agreed that Kitty’s help was invaluable as she herself had little interest in selecting her apparel and would not have known that such a gown would look so becoming on her.
Fanny Bennet noticed that her second eldest daughter was looking flushed and almost moved to assist her, but before she could carry out the thought, Elizabeth removed herself from the activities to sit down. She was in a delicate condition, and her husband had not wanted her to travel.
“Nonsense, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth had said to her handsome husband at Pemberley the week before. “Mary, Jane and I were very close before we married, and there is nothing that would stop me from attending her wedding.”
The Darcys could lay claim to the other anticipated match—that of Kitty, recently engaged to the curate from Kympton. Lydia Bennet, now out in society, was to join the Darcys in London after Christmas for her first Season along with Georgiana Darcy. Rather than joining her youngest daughter for her Season and leaving Mr. Bennet at home, Fanny would stay at Longbourn with him and young Thomas.
The three toddlers were playing close by, supervised by the nurse. The eldest, Thomas Miles Bennet, was an exuberant, impulsively spirited child. He ran across the nursery to grab one of his favourite toys, a wooden ship, from the little, blond boy who was yet to take his first steps. The baby smiled and chose another toy. “Thomas, give that back to Charles!” the clever and impertinent Frances Olivia Darcy said in an authoritative manner, arms akimbo and dark curls bouncing as she spoke.
Mrs. Bennet looked to her eldest. It had been Jane’s and Bingley’s suggestion that had stimulated the ideas that had not yet come to fruition, and the Darcys had readily agreed. The decision had been made to wait until the two youngest girls and Georgiana had all been betrothed or wed to make public the heritage of the youngest two Miss Bennets, similar to the experience of Lady Jane and Lady Elizabeth.