She had removed his power of speech, and now he could not even breathe. Slowly, knowing she was enticing him. Elizabeth climbed onto the bed and straddled his knee that was still leaning on the bed.
Darcy was beside himself with exhilaration, and feared he might spend himself. With a dry desperation, he said, “Lizzy, I am sorry to end this, but I must have you… I pray it will not be too discomforting.”
They lay side-by-side on the bed and embraced. Her legs encircled his waist, hoping it would give him the deepest access and produce less pain. She was instead elated when his careful entrance produced little stinging. She laughed.
Darcy rose on one elbow to look at her. “Laughter? Now?”
Her face was suffused with joy. “It does not hurt! Nothing we are doing hurts!”
His response was a passionate kiss and slightly more demanding thrusts. He paused to ascertain she was still unharmed; she was chortling, her cheeks aflame. He laughed too and, wrapping his arms around her, rolled them so she was astride him. She sat up—“Oh!”—but he held her hips down and pushed deliberately into her, deeper than he had yet been.
Elizabeth looked down at his face. His eyes were closed, he was clearly enraptured, and she closed hers. His depth produced a more profound response. “Ooooh.” A deep shudder announced her slide into oblivion, and as long as he moved in her, it did not end. She cried his name with each thrust.
When he pulled her down so their bellies touched, her back arched and he looked at her, realising she was far beyond delirium. Had she seen his gaze, she would have met a very smug countenance indeed.
“I love you,” he whispered, knowing she might not hear or comprehend. “I love you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.” He reached his climax with a final burst of force. A breast was near his mouth. He gave it a fierce tug.
“Yes, Fitzwilliam, yes, yes!” She collapsed, her long dark curls enrobing them both.
He smiled even as his body shook with its final spasm, thinking of Elizabeth only that morning, wrapping her sister in her hair. Here was the hoped for reality.
Elizabeth did not open her eyes or move. Even when his deflated manhood slipped out of her, she did not appear to notice. Darcy was afraid she would grow cold. He reached for the corner of the sheeting, wiping the excess liquid from his loins. He pulled the bedclothes he could reach to cover them. Elizabeth smiled, her cheek on his chest.
“Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
His chuckle bounced her cheek. “If you had not refused me then, Lizzy,” he said, recognising the words from his ill-timed and ill-judged proposal, “we might have started this most pleasing exercise in, what, perhaps June?”
“I do not believe we would have joined together in so profound a way as this. This is all as it was meant to be.”
“I believe you are right.”
***
Sometime in the night, Darcy awoke briefly. He did not know when they had rolled into a spooning position. One arm was behind Elizabeth’s neck, warmed by her hair, and the other was wedged between her breasts, his fingers entwined with hers. Even now that I have had her, I want her all the more… How splendid she is…
Elizabeth Darcy awoke as a bright and cold winter’s day was dawning. She was sensible to an ache between her legs, and realised it was not a lingering pain from her deflowering but something else, something more. I want him. Is this proper? I want him to take me again—the way he did the last time with the stirring motion. What will he think? All I want is to feel him. What has he done to me?
Darcy remained soundly asleep as she slipped out of bed. She dabbed water onto the towel at the washstand, soothing herself. The feeling of emptiness remained, and she was alarmed at the intensity of her desire. I shall stir the fire and warm the room; perhaps that will distract me. She found and donned the green velvet dressing gown—it would be warmer than the sleeveless gauzy robe on the floor.
After stoking the fire, she went to the windows and slipped the curtains apart. The pale winter light illuminated her as she studied the frost lying over the formal courtyard with its complicated knot of herbs. She folded her arms under her bosom, watching the sun peek over the back of the house. He has done something to me… This is not at all what I was lead to expect. I am…yes…I am lustful. Can this be what he wants?
***
Darcy’s eyes flickered open, alarmed to find he was alone. He saw the roaring blaze. Where is she? Did she let a servant in to tend the fire? I did not think I would awaken with empty arms this morning… Where is she? As he started to move, Darcy became aware of the undeniable erection already much in evidence. This reminds me of when I was seventeen. At least some part of me does not age!
He raised himself on an elbow, his eyes drawn to the morning light cutting a sliver into the room, and saw Elizabeth profiled against the glass doors. He went to her.
She did not hear his approach until his arms encircled her from behind. “Good morning, Mrs. Darcy. I did not think I would awaken in a cold bed this morning. Are you not well?”
“Good morning, Fitzwilliam. I do not know whether I am well or not.”
“Yes? Are you in pain?” His deep voice was full of concern.
“I do not know what you will think… I do not understand what you have done to me. I am not in pain, exactly, but I do ache. I want you. I have never felt such desperation. Something has changed in me. Since I have been awake this morning, all I can think of is how soon you may wish to…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Please comfort me.”
Darcy strengthened their embrace, and pressed his tumescence against her derriere. He enjoyed the feeling of the velvet gown against his skin and over her soft bosom. He leaned to whisper in her ear. “You are wonderful… That is what I think of you. Should such a case arise again, please know you should wake me. Immediately. Most mornings you will find me instantly at your command, as I am now.”
“Is it proper for a wife to make such demands? Is this what you want? You do not find my request unladylike? Too forward?” She pushed her derriere against him.
He felt her sigh of desire. “No, my dear Lizzy, to the contrary. In fact, I think you may justly accuse me of feeling a quite improper pride.” He slid his body against hers, slowly.
“You, sir, are behaving in a most ungentlemanlike manner. I was not wrong after all. You know arts and allurements far beyond any meagre attractions I may claim, teasing man.”
“Come back to our bed, Lizzy.”
Her lips were dry. “I shall.” She pulled him to the table where the ice bucket remained. “But first, I must have some water.” She poured a little melted ice into a champagne flute.
When she had finished, Darcy downed the remaining gulp from her glass and led her to the fireplace. “Did you have a servant in?”
“Whatever for?”
“To tend the fire.”
“You have married a country girl, Mr. Darcy. I know how to tend a fire.” Smiling up at him, she took his hardness in her cool hands.
“Indeed, you certainly do. Your attractions are not meagre. And may I say, Mrs. Darcy, I find a certain smugness in your countenance that is irresistible. I would not dream of correcting your pride. It is well deserved.”
Darcy unbuttoned her dressing gown and reached inside to grasp her waist. He gently pushed her down until they were both on their knees on the heavy plush rug before the hearth.
“Are we not going back to bed?” she asked, just loudly enough to be heard over the crackling fire.
“I pray you, indulge your husband’s dreams.”
She nodded, meeting his eyes, entranced. One night…in just one night he has made of me something quite other than I was yesterday. It is a wondrous thing. She was panting. “You were right, Fitzwilliam, that we should wait for this. It would not do for an unmarried maiden to feel as I do this morning. You may not be shocked at my feelings, but I am. I had no notion…” Her voice trailed off with a shake of her head.
<
br /> Darcy slipped the robe from her shoulders and smoothed it with the velvet side upwards, then lay upon it. He returned her candid gaze. “I knew when I received your first letter. I was certain you would respond to me, that you would know this as an expression of love, not a demand of duty. Lizzy, join with me?”
She did so, gratefully.
Chapter 22
A Period of Adjustment
“For which of my bad parts didst thou first love me?”
William Shakespeare
Much Ado about Nothing
Nearly all Darcy’s hopes had already been realised when he awoke mid-morning on the day after his wedding. Elizabeth’s eagerness to please lent confirmation of her passionate nature. The taking of her maidenhead had given her pain—indeed, he had not expected such blood— but she was valiant. He was pleased she recovered quickly and continued to explore what fulfilled her desires. Even in this carnal realm, she was spirited and loving. That she awakened on their first morning together in a state of adamant arousal made him revere her all the more. Darcy, you have no right to be so fortunate. He was not ungrateful; indeed, he was erect again, but he was in greater need of food.
“Elizabeth?”
“Hmmm?”
“Are you awake?”
She was still cuddled next to him, both of them naked and warm under the bedclothes, where they had returned after their commingling in front of the fire at daybreak. He was alert, and she lethargic.
“I am starving, Elizabeth. Are you hungry?”
Elizabeth lifted her head, a considering sort of look on her sleepy face. “Since you suggest it, I am ravenous.” She scrambled from the bed.
Darcy stood and picked up her velvet dressing gown, giving it a shake. Crushed creases marred it. “Is it ruined?” He handed it to Elizabeth.
“Nonsense. It can be steamed and will be as good as new,” she said, though her look was dubious. She slid her arms into it with his gentlemanly assistance. He buttoned it under her bosom in a most attentive manner.
“My preference, Mrs. Darcy, would be to have breakfast here, and then perhaps we could bathe.”
Elizabeth lifted her chin, which Darcy well recognised as the summoning of her courage. “Am I to assume you wish for us to bathe together in the same tub?”
He embraced her—she was so pleasing to hold in her velvet dressing gown—and murmured, “That is precisely correct. If I may say, Mrs. Darcy, in matters of conjugal intimacy, you are a delightfully quick study.” Darcy nibbled her ear.
Elizabeth’s cheeks coloured, and she chuckled, asking, “Are you going to eat me for breakfast?”
I would, if you would let me. Darcy envisioned the tempting sight of her womanly parts as he cleaned them by candlelight the previous night. “Lizzy, I am highly suggestible when we are alone together, and while I thought of Cook’s special ham rolls, and trying some of your strawberry jam, I would be happy to consume you instead. Whatever you wish.” He shrugged amiably.
She saw his rakish smile and shook her head in mock censure. “Perhaps you should ring for Mrs. Chawton, sir?”
“I fear I must, madam, for we need to fuel ourselves. What would you like for breakfast?” Darcy gave the bell pull a tug and then found his robe.
The housekeeper knocked discreetly on the door. Darcy opened it and spoke to her quietly. “Mrs. Chawton, we would like a tray of food. Some fresh fruit?” He looked to Elizabeth, and she nodded. “Bread and butter, some of Cook’s ham rolls, what is left of the cheddar from Mr. Bennet’s hamper, and some of Li… Mrs. Darcy’s strawberry jam. I want coffee, of course. Mrs. Darcy? What will you drink?”
She hesitated before saying, “I shall also have coffee, Mrs. Chawton, with milk, please.”
“Then in about an hour, if you would have Sarah prepare a bath.”
“Sarah will remove the linens then, sir. Shall I ask Murray to prepare a bath for you, sir?”
Darcy looked down, his cheeks turning rather reddish. “No, Mrs. Chawton, just the one bath. I shall ring for Murray when I need him.”
“I see.” There was a moment of tension, most of it flowing between Darcy and Elizabeth. “Very good, Mr. Darcy.” Mrs. Chawton turned to Elizabeth, “and ma’am. The food should be here in about half an hour but likely sooner. Much of it is ready.”
As soon as she left, their eyes met, and they started laughing. “What will the servants think?” Elizabeth asked. At heart, she was a little shocked. Darcy seemed close to his valet and housekeeper, and she wondered what they would make of their master going far beyond the bounds of his usual unvarying and confined behaviour.
Darcy walked to the door of the mistress’s bedroom and closed it. “Mrs. Chawton will have Sarah and an upstairs maid make up your bed and refresh the basins and linens in case we wander back in there.” He sat next to her on the settee. “We might want a change of scene…eventually.”
“Mr. Darcy, unless I very much mistake you, and I do not believe I do, I detect licentious intentions.” She gave him a quick kiss. “You should be ashamed of yourself, but I know you are not. I know you that well, at least.”
He held her in a longer, passionate kiss, then trailed kisses to her delicate ears. “Tell me, Lizzy, which bedroom do you prefer?”
“That I can easily answer. I have preferred this room since first I saw it. There is a warmth and simplicity that pleases me. I understand it is many years since the other room was occupied, but I find it fussy. A soothing atmosphere is my preference.”
“Nothing needs to be decided now, but we could have it fitted over as a sitting room for the two of us. We could keep the settee, add a larger table and chairs with a sideboard for food, maybe a small pianoforte. We can remove the bed. Perhaps you would prefer plain painted walls to the murals?”
Elizabeth’s brows rose. “A pianoforte?”
“Indulge me, Lizzy. Your singing pleases me. You perform with lovely joie de vive. And I must confess, it stirs my blood.
“I was thinking about it yesterday. When did I first start to love you? It is difficult to say, but I remember you playing at Lucas Lodge, and I told Caroline Bingley how I admired your eyes. The irony is not lost on me, I assure you, that she, of all people, was the first to learn of my admiration of you. But I have never since dreamt of any other lady’s eyes.”
Elizabeth looked at him in amazement. “You loved me as long ago as that? And when I played for your cousin at Rosings?”
“This is the beast you have married, Lizzy; you must know the truth. After that first song, I wanted nothing more than to kiss you violently. During the second, when I approached, I wanted to take you by the hand and drag you to my room to make you stop mocking me. Oh, Miss Bennet…” He leant his forehead to hers.
“Mr. Darcy! Most unseemly…” Elizabeth started to reach up to his curls, but she was interrupted by tapping at the door.
“Damn…” they both muttered, before looking at each other with renewed laughter.
Darcy rose and bid the servants enter, one with the coffee service, one with the tray of food. “Excellent, thank you!” Darcy ushered them out again with all possible speed and poured a cup of coffee for Elizabeth. “How much milk?”
“Let us say, I take a little coffee with my milk.”
Darcy smiled, “Ah.” He handed her the cup. “The opposite then, of how you take your tea.”
My goodness! He forgets nothing. “Light caramel-coloured, sir. Perfect on the first try.”
Darcy poured himself a cup and sat next to her. As they finished their coffee, they could hear servants moving in the next room. Elizabeth went to the closed door, and opened it enough to call in, “Good morning, Sarah.”
Sarah straightened from making the bed and curtsied. “Good morning, Mrs. Darcy. Oh, ma’am?”
“Yes, Sarah?”
“Is there a box for the pearls?” Sarah held them out to Elizabeth.
“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth looked back into the master’s bedroom. “Have we a receptacle for my pear
ls, or are we to keep them in the pocket of your robe?”
“Ah, yes!” Darcy jumped to his feet and disappeared into his dressing room, re-emerging in seconds with a brown velvet box. “Here.” He stopped next to Elizabeth and gave it to her.
Elizabeth handed the box to Sarah, who blushed to see the master so informally attired.
“Excuse me, sir,” Elizabeth said, looking over her shoulder at Darcy. She stepped into the bedroom and shut the door behind her. Leaning back against the closed door, she met Sarah’s eyes and beamed. “It all went rather well!” she whispered happily. Taking Sarah’s arm, she pulled her into the dressing room.
“He wants to bathe with me, Sarah!”
“So I have been told, ma’am.”
Elizabeth blushed and shrugged off the velvet robe. “I think the creases can be steamed?”
“Easily, ma’am.” Sarah noticed evidence that the dressing gown had been used more as a towel than a garment.
Elizabeth opened the wardrobe containing her nightclothes. She grabbed a nightgown of deep pink satin with long sleeves and a drawstring under her bosom. “Help me into this, though why I bother, I cannot say…”
“Elizabeth! I am waiting to eat!” It was Darcy, impatient on the other side of the bedroom door.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake…” Elizabeth muttered. She hurried behind the screen, freshening herself with more lavender water. Sarah handed her the sheer dressing gown meant as the partner for the nightgown as Elizabeth dashed back to the closed bedroom door. “Sarah! Knock on this door when the bath is ready…then you may go.” She stopped at the door, donned the dressing gown, and took a deep breath before opening it.
Darcy stood on the other side, a handful of late grapes from Pemberley’s glasshouse in one hand, and a half-finished ham roll in the other. “You look beautiful,” he said with his mouth full.
“You said you were waiting to eat.” She swept past him, stealing his grapes.
He swallowed. “I did not say I was doing it well.”
Elizabeth began to eat the fruit. Darcy met her at the settee and refilled her coffee. Elizabeth knelt upon the settee, leaning over its arm, selecting morsels from the tray. Finally, she slathered a thick slab of bread with strawberry jam, and sat back on her haunches to savour it.
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