by Ola Wegner
An awkward silence fell between them. Elizabeth was upset for upsetting him, but she felt wronged by him. She was not a child to be delivered to places and occasions. She wanted him to discuss matters with her, not just tell her what to do and where to go. She was not a doll he could dress, feed or order around.
“Shall we have dinner here?” she gestured to the round table placed near the large window.
“Yes, I will see to the arrangements,” he said, and with a formal bow, left the room.
She shook her head, trying to stop the tears from coming to her eyes again. She needed to get a handle of herself. After all, her wedding night was yet before her.
Slowly, she removed her bonnet, gloves and jacket. Two servants walked in, carrying her smaller trunk, as well as Darcy’s. She asked them to put them into the second room, which was the bedroom, containing a large four poster bed.
Left alone, and not being sure whether a maid would be sent to help her, she began to undress. Growing up with four sisters had made her more than capable of taking care of herself in that respect.
She hung her pretty wedding dress neatly over the back of one of the chairs. Wearing only her petticoats and chemise, as she disposed of the stays as soon as she took off the dress, she opened the trunk to retrieve one of her every day dresses. She considered abandoning the stays completely for tomorrow. Her clothes fit well without them, and it would be much more comfortable to sit for long hours in the carriage without the restricting garment hugging her midsection.
She put the fresh dress on the bed. Her mother called it a home dress, and it was something between a robe and a typical morning dress. She, her mother and her sisters had always worn similar ones whenever they stayed indoors in their own company due to bad weather or illness. It had a very simple design, lacked buttons at the back and was tied at the side with small ribbons. She hoped that Darcy would not mind her casual appearance; after all he had already seen her in much less.
She went behind the small screen to refresh herself. There was still warm water in the bowl, and scented soap beside it. She lowered the straps of her chemise, and naked from the waist up, she washed her face, neck, arms and chest. She was drying herself when she heard the heavy steps and commotion in the sitting room. She heard Darcy calling her name loudly in alarm.
“Elizabeth!” he cried, bolting inside the bedroom.
“I am here,” she answered nervously. Clutching the towel to her chest, she stepped from behind the partition so he could see her.
“Thank God,” he breathed, and in two large steps he was in front of her. “Why did you not answer when I was calling you?”
“I was lost in thought, I did not hear you,” she explained. “I only wished to refresh myself.”
He wrapped his arms around her, leaning down till she felt his nose against her neck. “I thought you were gone.”
She pushed away from him, giving him a confused look. “Gone where?”
He shook his head with a smile. “Nothing, nothing.”
One of his hands cupped her shoulder, the other went around her to stroke her naked back. “Our dinner should be served soon. I came to ask whether you need the help of a maid.”
She stared into his eyes. “Thank you, but I do not need help. If you will allow me a few minutes, I shall join you in the sitting room.”
“Of course.” His hands dropped from her body.
She sighed in relief as he left her alone. With haste, she finished dressing. She brushed her hair and tied it loosely with a ribbon in a low ponytail. Her scalp itched from wearing the heavy mass up all day long.
When she joined Darcy at the table in the sitting room, he gaped at her for long moment.
“You look lovely,” he murmured.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “What do we have for dinner?” she asked with forced enthusiasm.
“Everything you like,” he assured, taking the lids off the dishes.
***
“Are you certain?” Darcy asked, as he loomed over her supported on one arm.
Elizabeth was on her back, her legs spread so she could accommodate her husband. She was still dressed in her nightgown, but it was very thin, so she could feel his warmth through it.
“I am,” she answered staring into his eyes.
“We can wait. I will not mind,” he whispered, stroking her cheek.
In response, she bent and lifted her legs, pressing them shyly to his sides.
He kissed her lips, his hand on her breast. She closed her eyes, silently allowing him to touch her.
As he nuzzled her neck, his hand went to her knee, lifting her nightgown slowly.
“You are so tense,” he murmured, touching her leg. “There is no need for this. I will not harm you.” He punctuated his words by stroking the inside of her thigh.
“I know,” she spoke in small voice. “I am well.”
It seemed to appease him, as soon she felt him touch her private place. She closed her eyes again, concentrating on the gentle caress of his fingers. It took him some time to arouse her, but after a few minutes of devoted stroking, combined with kisses on her neck and face, she felt hints of pleasure shimmering between her legs.
She sighed in content, straining against his searching fingers. He opened her gown, pushing it to her navel, and began kissing all over her bosom, his hand never abandoning her private place. She arched her back, biting on her lower lip, her eyes squeezed tight as she tugged at his hair.
A moment later, he was hovering above her again, settling himself firmly between her legs. He arranged one of his arms above her head for support, while with the other guided himself into her. When she felt him against her, she turned her head to the side not wishing to look.
“Lizzy, love, you need to relax,” he murmured, pressing her farther into the mattress.
She tried to listen to his words, but she was terrified and felt suffocated by him. Only now did she realize how much bigger he was than she. She took a few calming breaths, but it helped little to calm her racing heart.
He pushed a little, and her eyes widened at the feeling of the unfamiliar fullness.
“Love,” he panted, his eyes darkened and blazing. “You must open up and allow me to come inside.”
She had no idea how she could accommodate him on that. She gasped as he pulled her right leg up, hooking it with his arm. Then with one swift move he was inside of her.
The cry died in her throat, and she was certain that she might have fainted from the sharp pain inflicted on her. Her aunt had mentioned discomfort, but this was beyond anything she imagined, or ever experienced. It had hurt much less when she had broken her arm falling from the elm tree in her father’s garden when she was ten years old.
Tears pricked out of her eyes as she bit back a sob and silently prayed for him to finish as soon as possible. Incoherently, amidst her own pain, she noted his low voice murmuring, telling her how good she felt, and how tight she was.
At last, after what seemed an eternity, but in truth was only a few shorts minutes, he grunted above her, and dropped heavily on top of her. She was afraid that he would truly suffocate her, but thankfully he rolled on his back, his eyes closed.
Elizabeth stared at the canopy trying to assess the damage done to her. Hesitantly she sat up, feeling the shooting pain in all her lower body. Her back hurt, as did her legs, while her privates burned, both on the inside and outside.
She tugged her gown up, tying the ribbon at her bosom with shaking hands.
“Are you well?” he asked, causing a cold shiver to run down her back. He sat behind her, gathering her hair to the side, kissing her neck.
She was not able to respond, nor hide her face as he took her chin to make her look at him.
He saw her tear stricken face. “What is the matter?” he cried in alarm.
“It hurt so much,” she admitted.
He ran a hand over his face, before pulling the nightgown up, revealing her slim thighs. “Good God,” he said, seei
ng the blood smeared on her skin.
He jumped out of bed without another word, picking his breeches and shirt from the floor and pulling them on hastily. Soon he was out of the room.
Elizabeth curled in a ball on the edge of the bed, weeping in her misery.
She did not know how much time passed, but the next thing she felt was his hand, shaking her arm gently. She turned her head to look at him through tears.
“I have some warm water,” he explained, a washcloth in his hand. “It should soothe you.”
She allowed him to raise her gown again and open her legs. She was beyond any shame by then. She winced as the warm cloth touched her torn flesh. Thankfully, after a moment of his ministrations, she began to feel a little better. He left the cloth between her legs, and went to search through her trunk, coming with a fresh gown to replace the blood stained one.
“Thank you,” she whispered as she put on the fresh garment.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, great concern written all over her face.
She lowered her head, staring at her hands. She was propped against the pillows, the bed covering pulled up to her chest. “Better,” she whispered, not looking at him.
He took her hands in his, kissing her fingers. “Forgive me for causing you pain. I would rather cut my hand off than hurt you.”
She managed a pale smile. “I heard it was expected to feel some pain the first time.”
He stood up and began pacing the room, running his hand repeatedly over his face and tugging at his hair. “I am an idiot,” he murmured over and over again.
She did not know what more she could say, so she turned on her side with her back to him, whispering. “I am exhausted. Good night.” She closed her eyes, and attempted to regulate her breathing as well as her racing heart, to simulate a peaceful rest.
However, she truly calmed down only when she heard him leaving the room. She did not know how long he was gone, but she was fast asleep when he returned.
Her eyelids fluttered as she felt him pulling her into his arms. She closed them quickly, not wanting him to notice that she was awake. He kissed her temple, and as his breath fanned over her face, she smelled alcohol on it. She had no strength to wonder what to think of it. She allowed him to cradle her to his chest, and slowly fell into deep sleep.
Chapter Twenty-One
Darcy stepped quietly into the bedroom for perhaps the fifth time that morning. It was after nine, and she was still in deep slumber, not making the slightest sound. Her small frame was very still, buried under the bed covers so that only her dark brown curls were peeking out. He surmised that she must have fallen asleep around ten o’clock last night, so she had been out for almost twelve hours. He did not know what to think about this, as he had learned long ago that she was an early riser.
He perched on the edge of the bed, considering whether he should wake her. A hot bath had been drawn, the tub sitting in the next room. He had ordered it, thinking it would help to soothe her soreness.
He cringed every time his mind returned to the night before. They should have waited. He was an inconsiderate brute. He knew that she was not ready; he had felt it deep down in his heart, and yet still he had done that to her. It was his role to be wiser as he was the older and more experienced one. He should have kissed her on the forehead and order her to sleep.
He had tried to be gentle, prepare her the best he could, and she had been wet for him, she truly had been. Nevertheless, he had hurt her—hurt her in more ways than one. God forgive him!
Bedding an innocent, sheltered girl was nothing like his past experiences. He had no idea that everything would feel so different. It was so much better, deeper, more real; but at the same time frightening and intimidating. The overwhelming responsibility he felt for her shook his very being, making him weak and defenceless.
The women of his past had not been virgins. They had known what to expect. They had usually been more knowledgeable than him when it came to intimate relations. Elizabeth was like day to night when compared to them.
He had no friends he could have talked to about the marriage bed experience, as Bingley and Richard were bachelors. There was Henry, Richard’s older brother, who had been married for some time. However, they had never been close enough to make that kind of conversation comfortable between them.
He tugged at his hair roughly, the pain in his scalp bringing his battered soul odd relief. His only hope was that she would not hate him again after last night. He was not eager to make love to her any time soon, definitely not before she was completely healed and in better spirits. He prayed she would allow him to touch her again in the future.
So lost in his thoughts was he that at first he did not notice when she began to stir. Her eyes opened, then closed, before her eyelids fluttered again. At last she sat up, looking disoriented around the room.
“Good morning,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
He swallowed. She was speaking to him. Thank heavens!
“What time is it?” she wanted to know.
“Past nine.”
Her big eyes widened even more and she sat up. “Why have you not woken me before now? We were supposed to be on the road over an hour ago.”
He moved closer to her. “Tis not important. You need to rest today. You are not fit to travel.”
“I am well,” she protested.
“Like you were well yesterday?” he asked more sharply than was his intention.
She gave him another one of her round eyed glances, staring at him like a small animal caught by a hunter.
“You have to be honest with me,” he spoke evenly, pinning her with his gaze.
She frowned. “I am.”
“You were not last night. You were not ready to be with me, even though you insisted that you were. I do not read minds, Elizabeth. You must be more forward with me about these matters - more sincere. I hurt you, and this could have been avoided, at least to some degree, had we waited. You were far from ready; still you told me to proceed.”
She answered something, but so quietly that he did not catch it.
“Say again,” he prompted.
“I thought you expected it,” she whispered.
“I told you that I would not mind waiting till you are ready.”
“I thought that you were telling me that out of kindness only.”
He ran his hand over his face. “Good God, Elizabeth! Try to listen to me sometimes and believe what I say! I do not speak falsehoods.”
“I thought you wanted it, and I wanted to please you.” She paused, biting down on her lip with her small white teeth. “That afternoon when you took me to your room… and all those women in your life. I guessed you needed to do this often. I wanted to accommodate you. I feared you would go back to her if I did not…” She twisted her slim fingers, tears watering her eyes again.
He cupped her cheek, making her look at him. “I love you. I want you to feel safe with me - happy. I will not become upset if you are not willing to be with me every single night. It truly offends me when you say you believe I would be willing to break my wedding vows to go to some other woman…” He gripped her delicate shoulders, hoping to pour some reason into her. “I love you. Do you hear me? Whether you sleep with me or not, I love you.”
She stared at him with dark, tearful eyes for a moment, before she produced a loud sob and moved to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He pulled her on his lap, cradling her tightly.
“No more of this. You must trust me a little for your own peace of mind,” he murmured, rubbing her back.
She nodded vigorously into his chest, her weeping slowly subsiding.
“Come.” He stood up with her in his arms. “Your bath is ready.”
She did not protest when he carried her to the sitting room where the portable tub was sitting
The water was just right by now, not too hot, but still decently warm.
He turned around when she removed her gown and climbed naked into the water. He
stood by the window with his back to her as she washed herself, judging by the sound of the water splashing.
“Can you help me with my hair?” she asked after some time.
He turned to see that she sat with her legs drawn to her chest, her hair sticking in various directions, the white soap suds covering the dark mane.
Silently he helped her rinse her hair, later wrapping a large towel around her head. He helped her out, making sure not to stare too much at her naked form. His heart tugged, however, when he noticed how thin she was.
Soon he had her dressed warmly, sitting in an armchair by the blazing fireplace.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
She smiled brightly, energetically drying her long hair with a towel. “Much better, thank you.”
“Are you very sore?” He put his hand on the top of her thigh to indicate his meaning.
She blushed. “Not so much after the bath.”
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
She looked him in the eye. “It was not your fault. It could not be avoided. You tried to spare me discomfort.”
He let a heavy sigh. “You are very gracious. I can only think with abhorrence of what I did.”
She reached to take his hand. “There is no need for that. I truly feel better, and we can still travel today.”
“No, today is for you to rest,” he insisted. “We will go tomorrow, early in the morning.”
She did not protest any more to his plans. He was pleased to see that she ate more for breakfast than usual. He proposed a nap, expecting her to dismiss the idea, but she agreed. He winced as he observed her walking awkwardly towards the bed, her usual graceful gait replaced with the slow trudging. He wanted to shoot himself seeing this, knowing he had caused it.
He was surprised but pleased, a warm sensation filling his chest when she reached for him, making him lay by her side, asking him to stay till she fell asleep.
He stayed with her for an hour before he left to speak with his servants. When he returned, she was still in deep slumber. She must be very exhausted, he thought, if she needed so much sleep.