Longbourn to London

by Beutler Linda

  Standing several feet from the tub while Darcy kneeled in it, she slowly took off the velvet dressing gown, laid it over a chair, and turned to face him.

  He drew in his breath. The sheer fabric did not adequately cover her bosom, and only where multiple layers folded over her body was any detail hidden.

  Feeling her power over him, she stretched her arms up as if tired. She pretended to yawn, and shook herself. “Fitzwilliam,” she said lazily, “perhaps I shall precede you to our bed.” She shrugged a shoulder, dislodging a strap and completely revealing one breast. From beneath her brow she looked at him, and finally smiled.

  “Elizabeth,” he murmured. He stood, revealing his reaction to her little charade, which brightened her eyes. “You have had ample sleep, so do not trifle with me. Let me comfort you.”

  “Again? You are not bored with me?” She held his gaze, and slowly slid the gossamer gown down the length of her body.

  “Lizzy…step into the tub. I shall show you how bored I am.”

  ***

  The next day and the day after, several more rooms were explored, including the study and the music room. The next attempt at an evening meal in the small dining parlour was interrupted by Darcy pulling his wife onto his lap, disordering her hair, and lifting her skirts. Elizabeth and Darcy were rarely out of each other’s company, even for the writing of letters, and a second desk was indeed moved into his study.

  Elizabeth could not convince Darcy to walk in Hyde Park—“I most fervently do not wish to see anyone to whom I am not married, Mrs. Darcy”—and when the weather turned foul, she stopped asking. She did not really mind. Elizabeth wondered how they would find a normal rhythm to life at Pemberley when such ample joys were so readily available and tempting.

  On the fourth night in Darcy House, as they sat before the fire in the master’s chamber, Elizabeth asked why Darcy had not shown her the rooms where he had resided prior to their wedding.

  “I have a special curiosity about the room in which you slept as a bachelor. I want to see where you struggled against loving me and where you dreamt of me. May we go there?”

  Darcy paused, his mouth half open in awe.

  Elizabeth misunderstood his silence. “We need not of course, but I have imagined you there…”

  “Miss Elizabeth! You continue to astonish me. That a maiden would imagine a bachelor’s bedchamber never occurred to me. Let us make haste.” He was well on his way to becoming fully aroused.

  The halls were dark, and although they remained on the same floor, his previously occupied rooms were down a hall that turned twice into the opposite wing of the house. Elizabeth was not sure she could find her way back.

  Once they entered his former bedroom, Darcy produced matches and they began lighting every candle they could find. Soon the room was brightened, and Elizabeth could take in some details. There was only one large chair in front of the fireplace, and all of the fabric in the room was dark green, wine-red, and rich brown. Over the mantle was a portrait of Pemberley, and next to the bed was a landscape Elizabeth recognised as the view from Pemberley to a lake, which Mrs. Reynolds insisted Elizabeth see when she toured the home with her aunt and uncle.

  Bookcases flanked the fireplace, but as in the master’s bedroom, furnishings were simple. Darcy turned down the counterpane and bedclothes as Elizabeth inspected the room. There were double glass doors opening onto a small balcony overlooking the courtyard garden. She looked out at the winter night. Across the courtyard, she could see a set of windows from which the glow of candles emanated. Otherwise, the house was dark and quiet.

  “Is that our room?” she asked.

  Darcy joined her. “Yes. It is many years since I have stood in this window and seen it illuminated.” He kissed the top of her head. “You, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, have illuminated everything.”

  She glowed with his praise. “Hmm! How sweet you are! What a lovely thing to say. Perhaps we should move you back into this room?”

  “I have said nice things to you in other places, I hope.”

  “There was something boyish in your tone just now. Quite youthful.” She led him to the bed and pushed him to sit before stepping away. “May I assume, sir, in some of your dreams we were lovers without benefit of marriage? Were your dreams so improper?”

  “Miss Bennet! Can you read my mind?”

  “You have married a woman with a passionate nature, Mr. Darcy. I might not have comprehended it fully at first, but you have encouraged me, and I understand myself better. How you saw so much in me, I hardly like to think.”

  He smiled and reached for her, but she maintained her distance.

  “In your dreams, Mr. Darcy”—she said his name in a most enticing way—“did you undress Miss Elizabeth, or did she disrobe herself?” She began to unbutton the velvet dressing gown, which had become a great favourite.

  He tried to clear his thoughts, but her tempting query brought more than one dream to mind. “I should blush to admit it to Miss Elizabeth, but Mrs. Darcy will be hard pressed to imagine anything we did not do, in various and numerous combinations.”

  She parted the velvet, and slowly drew the long sleeves down her arms. “Tell me a recent dream, then.”

  “We were alone in the billiard room at Netherfield.”

  She meant to be seductive, but the memory of stumbling into that room and finding Darcy apparently austere and disapproving was now extremely diverting. She laughed. “Tell me more!”

  “I was teaching you billiards, and you were wearing the gown from the Netherfield ball.” He had to be careful not to reveal too much. There was a surprise coming for Elizabeth later in the week that he did not wish to spoil.

  “Were you?” She had removed the dressing gown, but turned partly away, and drew it in front of her, hiding what he most wanted to see. Her face was coy. “Was I an apt pupil?”

  “It seemed so, as I recall, but the dream ended with us lying upon the table, and I was about to enjoy you from behind, as I did in the library on…whatever day that was. The second time in the library, I mean.” It was Darcy’s turn to blush.

  “I understood your meaning perfectly well.” She gave him a long fiery look before turning away, allowing the dressing gown to trail behind her as she neared the fireplace. There were enough candles in the room that he could see her derriere through the sheer fabric of her white nightgown. “Were we married?”

  “No, but before importuning you, I did propose.” Darcy’s mouth was dry.

  Elizabeth’s dark hair hung down her back in wavy tresses. He was torn between the enjoyment of studying her as an objet d’art and wanting her to come to bed.

  “I am relieved to know that you are not entirely lost to propriety in your dreams. And did I say yes?” She looked provocatively over her shoulder.

  “Yes, bless you, you did.” Darcy stood and removed his robe, revealing his potency.

  Still Elizabeth did not approach. The candlelight outlined every detail of her profile. She noticed a little casket on the table next to the armchair. It was unlocked. She picked up a letter, recognising her own hand, posted during the week he had been in London.

  “You have many endearing habits, Mr. Darcy. That you have kept my letters where you might easily revisit them deserves recompense, I think.”

  Darcy sat back onto the bed as she strolled slowly to him. He found his breath growing shallow.

  “Was there a dream of me in this very bed?” She leaned against the bedpost.

  “Dozens of them, but none as enticing as you actually being here.” Darcy crawled along the bed towards her. He reared up onto his knees, and she did not resist when he pinned her body against the curtained post, entwining his hands in her tresses. He whispered in her ear, “I always dreamt of your hair.”

  He turned her head, lifting her hair from her neck. He tickled her shoulders with his lips and tongue then met her mouth in a long rapturous kiss. As their lips parted, he asked, “You are here?”

  She looked at h
im fondly. “Yes, my love, I am here.”

  Darcy slid the nightgown from her shoulders, but its downward progress was hung up where she leaned against the bedpost. He delicately tucked the fabric below her breasts and gave each nipple a thorough kiss. He looked into her smouldering eyes. “You are truly here?”

  “I am completely and utterly present, Fitzwilliam, I assure you. You have my fullest attention.”

  Darcy pulled her against him and the nightgown slithered to the floor. He lifted her in his arms and turned to plunk her on the bed. She laughed. He lay next to her, stroking and petting his favourite parts as she writhed in approval. As his hand slid along her thigh, her legs parted.

  “I am not dreaming this? Elizabeth Bennet is here, allowing me every liberty?” Darcy repeated.

  “If you comfort me, perhaps then you will believe I am not an apparition.”

  “I must be awake. In my dreams, the succubus never refers to what I do as comfort. Only Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy does so. My voluptuous wife.”

  Chapter 24

  Mrs. Darcy Hires a Maid

  “If she and I be pleased, what’s that to you?”

  William Shakespeare

  The Taming of the Shrew

  In their final three days in London, Darcy and Elizabeth succeeded in becoming less nocturnal and less random in their meals. They had upset the schedule of the servants long enough.

  A wedding gift arrived, which afforded some entertainment by producing a pair of uncommonly ugly, porcelain Chinese dogs sent secretly by their cousin Anne de Bourgh.

  Darcy quizzed his wife about when her last courses had been— while he was in London, most conveniently—and wondered about conception. Being a fastidious man, he wanted to know when the glad moment would occur, but Elizabeth held no womanly secrets on the subject. Thus, he was forced to accept what his own discreet enquiries confirmed—there was no way to know. He decided to continue as if each union could be the special moment. No matter how playful and teasing Elizabeth chose to be, Darcy was aware that, at every instance, they might be creating their first child. It pleased him to think of it, and increased his attentiveness to Elizabeth.

  On their final night, Darcy stood from their early dinner and drew Elizabeth to her feet. “I hope you will not mind too much, Elizabeth. I have prepared a special event for tonight. You have been patient to tolerate no company except mine all week. Your attitude has been in every way compliant.” He was full of mirth, and a chuckle crept into his voice. “Tonight will be a reward for surviving an entire week of marriage to me.” He kissed her hand lovingly.

  Elizabeth laughed. “What—are we to share an entire jar of strawberry jam? What will my father think if he hears of it? He will have harsh words for you, sir, if you spoil me so.”

  They walked hand in hand into the hallway. “No, Elizabeth, nothing so profligate. You have not behaved that well.”

  Elizabeth grumbled good-naturedly.

  “Sometimes you have been quite…provoking,” he whispered in her ear. “Which deserves a special reward.”

  She looked at him questioningly. “You may have me compliant, or you may have me provoking, Mr. Darcy, but I fear you will never have both at the same time as long as I am your wife.”

  “Lizzy…” His lips nibbled her earlobe. “When you provoke me, no matter how you do so, you are indulging my wishes and are, therefore, by definition, compliant.” He marked a line of kisses from ear to mouth, enveloping her in a passionate embrace with one hand squeezing her derriere. Stop, Darcy; go slowly, or you will never get through this night. He released her. “But for tonight, I hope it will not bother you to have guests. This may come as a surprise, but I find myself wishing to dance with you, Mrs. Darcy!”

  “Indeed! Are we to have a ball for two, Fitzwilliam?” She gazed at him with astonishment.

  “We shall have a small orchestra, and I have invited Georgiana’s dance master, who will teach us a scandalous new dance: the waltz. Have you heard of it?”

  “Indeed, I have! It does not seem so very scandalous if I am to dance it with my husband.”

  “Would Miss Elizabeth Bennet have danced it with Mr. Darcy at Netherfield?” He took her hand as they began to ascend the stairs.

  “I find it difficult to imagine Mr. Darcy asking Miss Elizabeth to waltz at that time, especially if, as you have said, he was trying to resist her.”

  “Had I known the steps, I might have. What a scandal it would have bred! You were bewitching—by far the most captivating woman in the room—and although I had allowed no self-revelation, I was already in love with you. I knew you did not return my feelings, and in my prideful ignorance, I thought it for the best—that it made resistance easier. I thought I would forget you. I have dreamt of that night countless times since.”

  “Do I assume correctly how you wish Sarah to style my hair?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.

  “Sarah has been well instructed in every particular of your dress. I own I have made some decisions for you.”

  Elizabeth stopped. “You know I think we should only remember the past as it gives us pleasure. Perhaps both of us left our one dance in some ways dissatisfied. I believed at one time that you were angry at its end. If your scheme is to create a better memory, I am your willing partner in every respect.” She bounced up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Have I time for a bath?”

  “Yes, if you bathe alone,” he said, using the voice that made her breath quicken. His eyes expressed his desire eloquently. “If we bathe together, the dance master will find us unpardonably late. I shall knock on the hall door to your dressing room in one hour and a half. Our lesson starts at eight o’clock.”

  Darcy turned into his dressing room, leaving Elizabeth to walk down the hall alone. As she entered her sanctum, she was amazed to see the ball gown she had worn over a year ago— and not donned since—hanging from an open wardrobe door. “Where did that come from, Sarah? I thought it was sent to Pemberley.”

  “As I understand it, ma’am, Mr. Darcy arranged with Mrs. Bingley to have it sent. It arrived during the week before your wedding.”

  “Did it indeed?” Elizabeth began to sense a larger conspiracy. Jane had helped pack the trunks of possessions and clothes to be sent to Pemberley. Clearly one box had been addressed differently from the rest. Jane! You sly thing!

  Sarah helped her mistress undress; the tub was partially filled, and more ewers stood nearby. The lady’s maid had learned Mrs. Darcy preferred her baths deep and steaming, an indulgence she was never allowed as the second daughter at Longbourn.

  “Aye, ma’am. I am to dress you to the master’s exact orders, as you was that night, excepting you are to wear your pearls what he gave you on your wedding night.”

  Elizabeth nodded, as if knowing what Sarah was going to say before she said it. “Has he provided white ribbon roses for my hair?”

  “No ma’am. He requested the pearl hairpins from your wedding day.”

  Elizabeth nodded again. “And did Mr. Darcy specify as to my undergarments?”

  Sarah’s cheeks coloured slightly. “No, ma’am, he did not. He asked me to ask you…um, he said I should request, was his words, that you wear the same as you wore at the ball a year ago.”

  “Did he, indeed?” Elizabeth raised her brow. “Well then, Sarah, if he chooses to attend to undressing me tonight, he will find the task a great deal more challenging than it was on our wedding night!” Elizabeth started laughing at Sarah’s shocked face. “Do not worry, Sarah! You may chuckle, or giggle, or simply smile knowingly. It would seem Mr. Darcy and I have few secrets from you and Murray.”

  Sarah smiled. “You are newly married, ma’am, and you love each other. It makes for a happy situation for us below stairs. This is a joyful house.”

  ***

  As Elizabeth was seated in her bath and lathering her hands with a cake of soap, she found herself making a decision. “Sarah, I know this is hardly the time or place for such an interview, but would you draw up a stool an
d sit for a moment while I soak? I have something I would ask you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” In a moment Sarah was seated next to the tub.

  Elizabeth chuckled. It is only fitting I am naked for this…Sarah has seen me thus more often than she has seen me in clothes! What a thought!

  “Sarah, do you have much family in London?”

  “Oh, no, ma’am. My family is from Kent. Two of us worked at The Bell in Bromley where Lady Catherine de Bourgh preferred to break her journey whenever she travelled to London. She gave my name to Mrs. Chawton when there was a situation here.”

  “Ah. And have you had any further contact with her ladyship?”

  “No ma’am. We had a long interview before she gave my name here, is all.”

  Elizabeth smiled ruefully. “Yes, I would wager you did. Sarah, did you happen to overhear a conversation, probably rather one-sided, between Mr. Darcy and his aunt some two months ago?”

  Sarah blushed deeply. “I must confess, Mrs. Darcy, it would have been impossible not to. We all heard, who had business above stairs that afternoon. It made me glad I warn’t workin’ in her house.” Sarah’s eyes widened, and she put her hand over her mouth.

  Elizabeth was indulgent. “I can well imagine. And may I assume you know that I was the bone of contention on that occasion?” Sarah appeared not to take Elizabeth’s meaning. “I was the lady who profoundly wounded Lady Catherine’s pride.”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am. They said your name. You was Miss Elizabeth Bennet before you was married.”

  “Yes, I was. Now you must answer me honestly, Sarah. Did anything Lady Catherine said cause you to wish not to attend me this week when Mr. Darcy asked that you should?”

  “Oh, no, ma’am, not at all. After Lady Catherine left the house, Mr. Darcy seemed to change completely; happier than I had ever seen him, he was. It was like he was a different man entirely before he left London. Then Mrs. Chawton got word Mr. Darcy was to be married, and when we learnt you was the lady, all of the staff was relieved.”