The Red Chrysanthemum

by Linda Beutler

  Darcy closed his eyes, envisioning many future carriage rides when he would take her at his whim, fondling her thighs, disordering the necklines of her gowns, urging her to express her pleasure. Soon, Darcy. She will make you as happy as a man can be. “Elizabeth Bennet…” will make you an admirable wife. He did not realize he said her former name aloud when she released his mouth.

  “I love you, and I ought to tell you oftener,” Elizabeth said. She smiled at him, stroking his cheek.

  “Surely you do not expect me to argue with that, or offer any discouragement.” He turned and kissed the palm of her hand gently then moved to hold her palm to his mouth, wetting it in his ardour. He made them both breathless. “If I kiss your bare shoulder tonight with such abandon as this, or the back of your neck…if I kiss you here,” he touched her breastbone just above her bosom, “will you still love me?” His low voice lured her to share in his desires.

  Again her eyes met his, and he continued, “My theory of ensuring marital felicity is to behave in a frightfully ungentlemanlike manner when we are alone. I may shock you, and I hope to please you, but I promise, you will never doubt I desire you.” He deftly opened the frogs holding her pelisse across her bosom, and was saddened to see the gown she wore underneath did not allow access to her skin. Still, just the action of his opening her coat thrilled her, and he could see her heart pounding through the fine woollen cloth. “Never doubt your power to fascinate me.” He cupped one breast in his hand. Her eyes widened. “Last night, I let you sleep. Tonight, I will not be so kind. When I am awake, I will be touching you.” He leaned so his lips were at her ear. “Kissing you, tasting you, coaxing your body to welcome me, until I exhaust us both. And then, if you wish, you may explore me.”

  She was speechless.

  “What do you say, Elizabeth Bennet? I know we are husband and wife, but that was a mere formality, a necessity to get what I want.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I have made you the mistress of Pemberley because there was no other honourable way to have you become my mistress. Will you allow me to have you for my mistress, even though you are my wife? Will you allow me the liberties most men do not ask of their wives?” The motion of his hand became more demanding as he continued fondling her.

  “It was me!” His question was the catalyst of her epiphany. As if she was again dreaming, the woman in Darcy’s arms turned to face her. It was her own ravenous reflection: hair about to fall, lips bruised, eyes smouldering, looking upon her panicked self as a silly little fool.

  “It has always been you…” He began kissing below her ear.

  “In my dream, the woman you were kissing was me.”

  “You make my point.” He kissed her without restraint.

  * * *

  Darcy and Elizabeth travelled for miles in a passionate embrace. Had he chosen to take complete possession of her, she would have mindlessly complied. When their lips were not locked upon each other, his deep unrelenting voice, in carefully chosen words, explained his intentions for their first night as husband and wife. Elizabeth was quite thoroughly seduced and Darcy suspected as much.

  After pausing for breath, they stole a glance out the carriage window. Little cottages were passed with more frequency. “We are entering Bakewell,” said Darcy. “I suppose I should move my seat, since I am known here.”

  Elizabeth smiled, besotted. It was an expression Darcy longed to see on her face almost from their first meeting. He said, “I needn’t,” just as she said, “You needn’t.” He returned her look of fond tenderness.

  Darcy did shift position to sit snugly next to her, rather than be seen nearly trying to mount her, or so he feared it would look should they be glimpsed. He slouched comfortably, his arm around her shoulders, his legs stretched to the opposite seat.

  On the empty gentlemen’s side sat his tall beaver hat and her wine-dark bonnet, side-by-side, appearing quite companionable. The vignette made him smile.

  “What makes you grin so?” Elizabeth asked, looking up at him.

  “See my hat and your bonnet? Do they not look well together? Do you remember the morning I visited you at Lambton to ask your help with Bingley? I sat my hat next to your bonnet upon the table there. The intimacy of it thrilled me, for I never thought this day would arrive.”

  “Are you as sentimental as that? I am surprised, but it is a most becoming revelation. I give you leave to remember any such charming details of our past acquaintance as give you pleasure.”

  The carriage slowed as they passed through Bakewell. Two or three merchants stood at their doors and waved. Elizabeth and Darcy returned the gesture. “A tailor I have employed and the bookshop,” Darcy explained.

  The coachman called down, “Pardon, Mr Darcy, sir, but will we be wanting the Lambton road, or Kympton, sir?”

  “Kympton, Mr Bains.” Darcy called up to him.

  “And then the shortcut, sir?”

  “Yes, Bains, from here take every shortcut you know. Slow down in Kympton only to keep from running anyone over.”

  The coachman smiled to himself, and the footman sitting next to him on the box chuckled.

  “The front outriders will make for Pemberley now,” Darcy explained. “Mrs Reynolds will muster the troops, and you shall be grandly welcomed by every chambermaid, stable boy and under gardener. Then we will have dinner. The mistress’s room has been refreshed with new draperies, rugs and bedclothes; there is also a new mattress. I hope you will make whatever adjustments you wish. I tried to account for your tastes rather than mine, but my assumptions may have been wrong, and I have not been here to attend to the work.”

  “Will I have time to change clothes and bathe? I have a lovely new gown to wear for our first dinner at home.”

  He looked down at her meaningfully. “Save it for tomorrow night. I would not take so much of our time tonight, when it might be employed differently.” His voice dropped to the low insistent tone he used earlier.

  Although his meaning was clear enough, she felt a wave of nerves beset her. She thought it best to leave her remarks at a nonchalant, “Oh, yes, of course.”

  “Mrs Reynolds has selected a maid for you, but she fully expects you to make your own choice when you are ready to do so. We shall have our baths after dinner.” And it may be the last time you bathe alone for quite some time, Elizabeth Bennet. He did not tell her he indulged himself with a new, very large, bathtub.

  The carriage rolled through Kympton without stopping, although there were so many townsfolk along the street that Elizabeth could not catch anything like a detailed glimpse of the church. Once through the village, they picked up speed, which pleased Darcy.

  * * *

  The sky was darkening when they pulled to the front entrance of Pemberley. As the carriage slowed, Elizabeth moved to take up her bonnet, but Darcy stilled her hand. “Leave it. You look lovely.”

  “Nonsense, I’m sure I look a mess. My hair must be untidy.”

  “I have not removed a single hairpin. It took every ounce of restraint.” He smiled into her eyes.

  “That would explain everything else you did.” She was mischievous, and Darcy was glad of it.

  He smoothed the curls off her forehead and into their usual position as the frame of her face. “You have never looked more beautiful. You will charm them all, and of course, several are not strangers to you. Let us enter our home hatless, and cast off a little of propriety now we are here.”

  Darcy moved to the carriage door, and a footman from the house opened it for him. With his feet on the ground, he turned and handed Elizabeth down then stepped away and held out his arm, presenting her.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of Pemberley, let me present your new mistress, Mrs Elizabeth Darcy.”

  His new wife blushed prettily, he thought, and smiled at their staff. Mrs Reynolds came forward to greet her with a handshake, saying, “Welcome back to Pemberley, Mrs Darcy,” but Elizabeth would have none of it, and hugged the housekeeper briefly.

/>   “Thank you, Mrs Reynolds, for everything.”

  Mrs Reynolds, her cheeks infused with pink, turned and introduced Elizabeth’s new maid, Anna. Then Mr Grayson introduced Darcy’s valet and moved with Elizabeth down the row of footmen. Elizabeth looked further on and found the scullery maid, Sarah R. who helped her the day she made her furtive visit to the stillroom, which ingratiated the new mistress with the lesser servants. Darcy hung back, speaking in a conspiratorial manner to Mrs Reynolds.

  The head gardener came forward and introduced the under gardeners who maintained the house gardens. Next came the stable master, and the stable hands were introduced. At last, Elizabeth was allowed to approach the house, and Darcy caught her up. The personal servants bustled around, taking her pelisse, gloves and reticule, and Darcy’s greatcoat and gloves. A footman entered with their hats, which Darcy took, to his valet’s surprise, and set them side-by-side under a large arrangement of autumn seedpods and foliage on the oak entry table.

  “Leave them, Garrick, will you? To humour me…” Darcy whispered to his valet. Elizabeth heard and was quietly charmed.

  As he took her arm to lead her up the stairs to a sitting room, she whispered, “You are quite a pleasanter person when we are at home. I may never allow you to leave.”

  Darcy looked down at her merry eyes. “I could say the same of you.”

  They entered a small sitting room Elizabeth had seen when Georgiana was showing her the house during her visit in July. Doors were opened into another room beyond, which was bright with candlelight. It was a tiny — by Pemberley standards — private dining room. Elizabeth peeked in and saw servants laying out dinner on the sideboard. The little table was round and would seat no more than six but was set for two, sitting rather close together. She smiled and turned to Darcy, who was standing near a table in the sitting room fitted with a selection of beverages.

  “Would you share a toast with me, Elizabeth?” he asked. “What would suit you?”

  “Some wine will suffice, sir, but not a full glass. Remember the cider.”

  “I consider the effect of the cider not so very detrimental if it allowed you to let down your guard a little.” He handed her a half glass of wine and poured himself a short portion of brandy. He stood and turned to her, raising his glass. “To us: Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

  Their glasses touched and they drank. Darcy stepped closer and lowered his face to hers, kissing her briefly, but not so briefly that they noticed a footman enter the sitting room entrance from the dining parlour. He cleared his throat, and they jumped apart, looking like naughty children.

  “Ahem…sir, madam. Mr and Mrs Darcy, your dinner is ready. We shall not disturb you again unless you ring for us.”

  “Thank you, Williams.” Darcy smiled.

  “We shall not see any more of the household staff tonight except my man and your maid. They are aware, as is Mrs Reynolds, that tonight is our true wedding night.” He watched her face carefully.

  “Oh…” Elizabeth looked fleetingly alarmed. Why does anyone have to know? She then took a deep breath and lifted her chin.

  Darcy knew this turn of her countenance well, and it comforted him to see it, needing no words to confirm she was marshalling her confidence. He held his arm for Elizabeth, but as the servant had withdrawn, she clasped his hand, entwining their fingers, and they proceeded hand-in-hand to dinner.

  Honeysuckle

  “Generous & devoted affection”

  Chapter 17

  Mr and Mrs Darcy at Last

  Darcy stood barefoot in a robe, partly hidden by the open door joining the master and mistress’s bedchambers, watching Elizabeth. He told her, when they had given up trying to do justice to a dinner they were too unsettled to eat, he would join her in her bedroom in an hour. He bathed quickly and assumed his post amongst the shadows to watch for her. He enjoyed observing when she thought herself alone since the previous April at Rosings Park, when she wandered the paths of his aunt’s estate. He had watched her from his balcony when she set out for a walk during her brief stay at Pemberley. Now they were home — and she mistress of the estate — and he looked forward to seeing her become as accustomed as he to the beloved pathways, woods and rocky peaks.

  When Elizabeth hurriedly entered the bedroom, it was clear she thought she had taken too long in her preparations. His heart raced, and he had to still his breathing to remain undetected. She was breath-taking with her dark glossy hair cascading around her shoulders and down her back, catching glints of auburn from the firelight. She wore only a nightgown of the thinnest creamy satin with sheer loose sleeves fluttering to her elbows, although she carried a dressing gown. Darcy thought the fabric of her nightgown exceptionally fine. The garment was a shift with no collar and a placket open to her waist, held together by three slender ties, which did not bring the two sides wholly together. The gleaming material hugged her bosom and hips with the hem just covering her ankles. Darcy was a visual man, well able to imagine what he was not shown, and the nightgown thrilled him by implying much but revealing little. He would have to untie the front and reach in to cradle her breasts in his palms. His hands itched. I hope her bosom is sensitive for her sake, as I intend to pay it a good deal of attention.

  When she turned away, he saw that the back of the gown conformed to her trim waist, and just below her backside, an ample fabric insert created a fishtail skimming the floor as she walked. It clung and draped over her pear-shaped derrière. Soon, he promised himself, I will be caressing that beautiful backside to my heart’s content. What a charming nightgown. I cannot wait to remove it. He felt himself growing more aroused. At last, at long last, I do not have to hold myself back…

  Elizabeth put on the dressing gown, a fluffy garment, and presented herself in front of the only mirror in the room on a shelf over a tiled dry sink, which showed her reflection from the shoulders up. The dressing gown had layers of ruffles over the shoulders and at the wrists with gauzy lace long sleeves; it was a sickly shade of pale green. Darcy silently deemed it hideous. She frowned and disappeared into the dressing room again.

  This will not do, she thought. My mother never could select clothes for me. This looks like something she would wear. Once in the dressing room, she regarded herself in the full-length mirror and laughed aloud at what she saw. Darcy heard her and smiled, surmising what she was about. Deciding to forego the time it would take to find another dressing gown, she shrugged off the offensive robe with a sigh of bother, preferring to face her bridegroom in the nightgown alone. She looked at herself again without the dressing gown and blushed at her immodesty, but she was pleased. After a night of me buried in heavy flannel, he must find this an improvement.

  Elizabeth re-entered the bedroom, looking around a little cautiously, and began to tour the room, which was lit only by the fire. Darcy watched her wander, smelling the last of the autumn flowers in a vase on a table, which included red chrysanthemums, and saw her smiling at the bowl of lavender potpourri as she sifted the flower buds through her fingers. There was another low bowl filled with silvery foliage, a card in Darcy’s hand inserted into it. ‘Southernwood’ it read. Next to this, lay an herbal like Georgiana’s. Elizabeth smiled, looked up the reference and murmured aloud, “Jest. Bantering. Maiden’s ruin, taken to enhance virility.” She chortled, “Oh my!”

  Darcy smiled and was tempted to step into the firelight, but he waited.

  Elizabeth looked at the painting of Pemberley woods over the mantle. She approached a window and drew back the curtain, noticing a drizzle had started and the sky was dark. It seemed indecent and dissolute indeed to be preparing for bed at what seemed only dinnertime. Darcy planned to enter the room when she climbed into bed, but now it appeared she was taking a minute survey of the room and everything in it, perhaps to calm herself.

  Elizabeth opened a little wooden box on the mantle to find matches and began lighting the candles scattered about the room. Darcy could not see her when she approached the head of the bed,
but the room grew brighter, and he knew she lit the candles on the night table. There was a little table with candles next to the door hiding him, but she did not approach it. She walked back to the middle of the room, swishing the tail of her nightgown. She half-turned to him and her eyes looked into his directly through the shadows, full of mirth.

  “Will you spy on me all night, or do you plan to join me?”

  Darcy chuckled and stepped into the room. “When did you see me?”

  She smiled fully. “When I first entered. Your bare feet are very white, sir, like beacons in the dark.” She laughed at him. “The bath water was slow to arrive. I thought I had taken more time than I ought…” Her voice trailed away as she remembered to be uneasy. Whatever advantage she felt she had gained by calling him out of hiding seemed lost in the light of the candles. He is impossibly handsome… How could a husband of mine be so handsome? I want to throw myself upon him, but what would he think? She looked down, feeling her face colour, then could not help admiring him and met his intense gaze.

  “Lizzy,” he whispered, calling her so intimately for the first time. “My Lizzy.”

  She looked quizzically up into his face and then smiled. Now I am ‘Lizzy’ to him. “That is the name I use when I talk to myself, you know.” It was the most intimate disclosure of her thoughts she had ever made to him.

  “Is it?” He understood.

  “I am pleased to hear you speak it. Another threshold has been crossed.”

  “Lizzy, then, when we are alone.” He nodded at her.

  Time seemed to stop. They were five feet apart, both rooted where they stood. He was wearing only a robe and, from what she could see, seemed to be naked under it. There was a suspicious bump below the tie that held the robe together. Oh! There it is… What should I do? Where should I look?

  “What is it you wish to ask? You have questions on your mind; I can see you do in your lovely eyes. Now we are married and alone in our bedchamber, you may ask me anything you like. Here you are my mistress, not just the mistress of Pemberley. Say anything. Say everything.” He smiled encouragement.