Thirty-Five
—
Finally, Mrs Darcy…
From a night of more sleep than she had expected, Georgiana woke up the morning after her encounter with Mr Wickham. She had awakened to the same confusion in which she had closed her eyes. Her distress was noticeable to all in that she refused nourishment and remained silent during the rest of the morning, and it displayed itself on her countenance in such a manner as to claim Mr Darcy's undivided attention from Elizabeth and bestow it upon her. However, Mr Darcy encouraged his sister to talk of what she felt as much as possible but to no avail. Before breakfast was ready, he had exhausted all possible subjects, including her plans for the winter season. Everything came to naught. How could she ever confide in her brother? Was all that Wickham had said true? Had her brother really played so significant a role in Miss Lydia's wedding? Could she rely on Wickham's words? Was she not turning her back on her brother again? The events of the previous day only added to her already confused mind.
The same situation persevered the next day. Until she saw Wickham again, Georgiana's merriment did not return. Still, she endeavoured not to show her distress the day of her brother's wedding.
~•~
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman…"
The voice of the parson the couple could hear, yet what he was saying was quite a different matter. So much so that it was necessary for the parson to whisper to the groom to produce the ring.
Regrettably, both the groom and best man were similarly distracted. Richard Fitzwilliam could hardly take his eyes off of the beautiful profile of the bride. And the same could be said of the groom, whose blushing at the sight of Elizabeth competed with the bride's. It was a fortune that the whole congregation was so engrossed either in contemplating the flushed countenance of this latter or the nervous demeanour of the groom, lest they would have noticed Colonel Fitzwilliam in his awkward predicament.
Once the task of sliding the sapphire ring onto the trembling finger of the bride was successfully accomplished, they were pronounced husband and wife. Darcy and Elizabeth were married. Howbeit the bells did not ring, everybody smiled. The reader must remember that the wedding took place within a good six years from the first day of their meeting. It would not appear, however, that they were essentially hurt by the delay. To begin perfect happiness at the respective ages of three and thirty and six and twenty is to do, all in all, pretty well. Generally speaking, one could be convinced that the Colonel's unjust interference, so far from being irremediably injurious to their present felicity, was perhaps rather conducive to it, by providing their knowledge of the force of their love and adding strength to their attachment.
Hence, an exceedingly proud Mr Darcy, smug smile on his lips, exited the parsonage with his bride adorned with flowers by his side. They were followed by the whole congregation, who wished to take a look at the newlyweds before they rushed to Longbourn to partake of the wedding breakfast Mrs Bennet had prepared.
The celebration was indeed very much enjoyed, though very little satin and very few lace veils adorned the bride, and no music was played out of respect for Mr Darcy's recent widowhood. But in spite of these deficiencies, the wishes of the small group gathered to witness the ceremony were fully answered in the perfect happiness of the couple.
The wedding breakfast was demurred of superior taste or parade. Yet everything that was served was of the finest nature, and even Lady Matlock presented her compliments to the Mistress of Longbourn.
After the longest time spent in the company of family and friends, Mr Darcy, finally helped his beloved bride into the chaise and four that was to take them to London.
~•~
Later that day, both Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana joined the Bingleys at Netherfield while the family, except for Mrs Bingley, were at tea, and Fitzwilliam looked around the room in such a manner that Georgiana immediately fancied that he neither expected nor wished the lady to be there, and, in short, that he was already aware of what occasioned her absence. Mr Bingley explained, quite unconvincingly to Georgiana's judgement, that his wife had remained at Longbourn to partake a meal with her sisters who had come to attend Elizabeth's wedding.
Although she had tried very little food ever since her arrival at Longbourn, Georgiana went immediately to her room, threw herself onto the bed, and remained there, quiet and motionless, for a good part of the day.
That evening, when Colonel Fitzwilliam retired to his room, he did not appear below stairs until it was absolutely unavoidable.
Before dinner, however, he endeavoured to find the other members of his family who were to depart to London in the morning. After inquiring of one of the servants about their whereabouts, he was directed to the drawing room. He went thither. However, to his surprise, he found Jane and Jane alone. But under Bingley's roof, he dared not hint the slightest intimacy. Therefore, he looked at her and squared his shoulders. Then he bobbed and, turning around, exited the room. Jane did not move. She comprehended his reaction perfectly well, and could not agree more.
On further inquiry, Colonel Fitzwilliam finally found Mr Bingley inspecting a stallion he had recently bought. This was welcome entertainment to Fitzwilliam, who found horse breeding a most enjoyable pastime. He and Mr Bingley spent a good time examining the animal, and talking amiably about different aspects of horse riding and breeding. 'Twas the first time in their acquaintance in which Fitzwilliam found Mr Bingley's conversation somewhat coherent. Apparently 'twas Bingley's favourite or perhaps only topic of conversation.
Miss Darcy's lack of appetite persevered. In seeing that her guest yet again did not come down to partake of the meal at the table, Jane, now the girl's rightful elder sister, ascended the stairs to the girl's bedchamber. After she was summoned in, Jane asked the girl if she wished to be taken a tray up to her apartments.
"I am afraid I find myself with no appetite," she answered coldly.
"If only fruit, my dear. Is it perhaps that you are suffering what is common to all young ladies?"
Georgiana shook her head. "If you mean my menses, then I should say no."
"I take then that you indeed suffer from what is common to all young ladies."
Understanding the comprehension the elder lady had over such matters, Georgiana sighed in acquiescence.
"I do."
"May I be of any assistance?"
"I am afraid you may not. But I am relieved you are so understanding of my situation."
"I have often been in love when I was your age. I know the feeling."
"But you have never been slighted by the man you love or even worse, hopelessly detached from him."
"Indeed you are mistaken. You would be surprised."
"You have?"
"More than once!"
Georgiana, sitting at the foot of her bed, with her head leaning against one of the posts, shuddered over the last sentence Jane exclaimed.
"Will you tell me about it?"
"I will. But first you must promise to eat something."
Georgiana assented. So Mrs Bingley proceeded to relate all the details of her past youthful conquests and disillusions, avoiding the particulars which involved Mr Darcy. Still, Georgiana was no fool, and she quickly surmised Darcy as the perpetrator of the awful deed involving Mr Bingley's detachment from Jane. The whole affair did puzzle her exceedingly as to encourage her to trust Wickham's words better than Darcy's. Now she realised how meddlesome her brother had been in the affairs of others.
"Come, come, sister," Jane said in a compassionate tone after the tale was finished. Georgiana was now visibly dejected by such intelligence of her brother's actions, but she said nothing and put all Mrs Bingley's words in her heart.
"The rest of the Bingley family awaits you, my dear. You are yet to be introduced to the little ones."
Having thus spoken, Jane grabbed her by one elbow and helped her to rise. To her surprise a
nd relief, the young lady followed her and, though believing it hardly possible to partake of the meal, did sit at dinner with them all. Not a syllable escaped her lips, and the abstraction of her thoughts preserved her in ignorance of what was going on around her.
Still, Mrs Bingley, in compleat ignorance of the real reason of her distress, thinking it was only the symptom of her girlish infatuation for the Colonel, endeavoured to alleviate her suffering.
"Now, my dear Georgiana. I have some news that I am sure will do you good. I understand that you and my sister Kitty are very much acquainted, are you not? Well, I have asked my sister to extend her visit for a week, and she has agreed. She will remove her trunk to Netherfield tomorrow, and her husband and brother-in-law are to join her in two days. So we will be as merry as merry can be."
Georgiana, trapped in the irritable refinement of her own mind, blinded by the acute nervousness her new-found love caused her, failed to derive consolation from her friend's oncoming visit. In its stead, she shrugged and rested her eyes on her plate.
Jane and the Colonel did not exchange one single look. Their composure at the table defied anyone to conjecture even the slightest acquaintance between them. He was grave and serious, and took much care in addressing only Mr Bingley, occasionally nodding to one or other remark made by his wife. Mrs Bingley, he purposely avoided on all occasions, and she was deeply relieved he was so doing. Inwardly, though, Jane's heart was exceedingly heavy.
In this manner they continued the whole meal, when Georgiana asked the Colonel to excuse her from the table. He escorted her to her bedchamber and retired himself until the next day, leaving a much concerned Jane Bingley behind.
~•~
During the first half of the journey to London, Elizabeth was silent and distracted. Darcy, sitting by her side, gently entertained his fingers with her hair, or the lace of her sleeve.
"Do you wish to sleep, Mrs Darcy?" Darcy said tenderly. He would call her by her new appellation over and over again so as to persuade himself it was indeed, true.
"Nay, I am not sleepy. I am merely thoughtful."
"Your thoughts, your thoughts, my kingdom for your thoughts," he said, paraphrasing Shakespeare's Richard III.
"Oh no, sir. My thoughts are the only thing I shall keep for myself. The rest is all yours."
"I believe that will suffice," he said and kissed her gloved hand.
They spent the reminder journey talking amiably about the obligations that awaited them in their home at Pemberley. Elizabeth expressed her wish to learn to ride, to which her husband very happily agreed, and Darcy, in turn, promised to take her rowing in the pond. In the end, after all possible subjects had been exploited, Elizabeth fell asleep on her husband's lap. When they arrived in London, she was awakened by the noises of the street and the smells of the city. It was a very hot day in summer and Elizabeth's hair had undergone a remarkable transformation. Her husband noticed it and made a point of it before they alighted.
"Oh, this is so embarrassing." said she while endeavouring to rearrange her hair.
"My dear Mrs Darcy, 'tis something we shall have to get used to. Yours shall be the first face I shall see every morning from now on. And the same will be for you. I can assure you I am quite a vision in the morning. We shall have to get used to these little domesticities."
"Still, sir. 'Tis embarrassing."
He laughed heartily at his little wife's modesty. By the time they alighted from the carriage at the door of the Darcy Town house in London, Elizabeth had conquered her hair and was looking tolerably good. After they arrived, they immediately went upstairs where a refreshing bath awaited them in each bedchamber.
When Elizabeth finished her toilet, the maid helped her into a beautiful nightshirt and dressing gown and told her the master awaited her in the adjoining room with a tray.
This caught Elizabeth by surprise.
She had expected her husband to join her in her bedchamber. Her mother, even her sister Jane had told her it would be like this. Still, by now she had got used to the idea that nothing was ordinary with her husband. He was quite a different kind of man.
She thanked her maid and bade her good night.
Before going to him, she took a last look at herself in the mirror, smiled broadly at her own reflection, and with a light foot crossed the few steps towards the adjoining door. She rapped lightly on it and heard her husband's voice inviting her to come in.
He was sitting up in bed, nibbling at a slice of bread, looking relaxed and jovial. He was wearing a yellow silk robe and - Elizabeth guessed - nothing underneath, barefooted, his wet hair showing he had just got out of the bathtub. When he saw her, he simply tapped the bed at his side gesturing her to approach him.
"Come. You need not knock. You may come in whenever you choose and so shall I. Are you not hungry? You did not eat much at breakfast."
"As a matter of fact I am a little hungry. What is there?" she said while coming over to him.
"Chicken. And some baked potato. Here, have some." He signalled her to climb into bed, but she felt somehow intimidated by the piece of furniture, and preferred to look for a chair. When he saw her intention, he immediately rose and found two, one for her and another for himself. Yet, when he rose, the belt that was holding his gown became a little loose, allowing his wife the rather distracting vision of his nudity for the shortest of time.
He had definitely nothing on underneath.
Just as she was going to sit, he pushed the chair for her and kissed her neck from behind. The new Mrs Darcy was a trembling leaf about to fall from a tree. She endeavoured to control her quivering but all went to naught.
"You look beautiful, Mrs Darcy," he breathed into her ear very much aware of her predicament.
The tray restored to his lap, they ate silently, while exchanging sheepish looks. Darcy smiled at her while eating, gently teasing her with his steady gaze. He offered her a glass of wine and they both drank some. When they had finished partaking of the light supper, Darcy rang to get the tray retrieved, and showed her the basin to wash her hands.
She was drying them when he silently approached her from behind, and taking her by one hand, directed her to the bed again.
She followed him in silence, flushed and embarrassed as she was, her pulse quickened. Darcy opened the bed, spread the sheets and invited her to climb in. This she found a bit difficult and embarrassing, for it was a large, tall, four-poster bed and she was forced to crawl on it till she finally got herself inside.
She sat up in bed and looked shyly at her husband, who still lingered out of bed for a while.
Before he climbed after her, Darcy de-robed himself. It was done quite naturally, with no other intention than following her into bed. He had not expected her to feel embarrassed, for they had more than once been in bed sans clothes.
Still, Elizabeth's sensibility stemmed not from virginal embarrassment. It was merely a question of proportion.
There, right in front of her, in a most conspicuous display of presence, his enormous torche d'amour, quivering in excitement, made its first appearance on the romantic stage.
She stared with wide eyes as he folded his robe onto a chair. When he turned to go to bed, Elizabeth perceived his engorged appendage preceding him contentedly. She closed her eyes and gasped in horror at the sight of such an unexpected performance of manliness.
"Lizzy. What is wrong? Have I offended you?"
Elizabeth, eyes firmly closed, shook her head. She had grown pale and refused to open her eyes.
Perceiving her distress was somehow connected with the picture his body presented, Darcy reached out and promptly proceeded to cover the offending part of his body. "Pray, Lizzy. Open your eyes." She opened one and in seeing that he was again robed, opened the other.
"Oh, my Gad," she breathed, exceedingly distressed. "How will this be accomplished?"
"I fail to understand you. How is what to be accomplished?"
"I mean your… you…" she stammered nodding
demurely towards his groin. "This is what you are to… mmm."
"Oh, oh, oh. Yes. Definitely. This is it."
"But it is so… so…"
"So?"
"So big!"
Darcy laughed and raked his hair nervously. 'Twas a situation he had already lived with his first wife. Only that on that occasion he had been relieved Anne had made up her mind and refused to proceed with the amorous rite. Yet, now it was completely another story.
Elizabeth continued rather nervously. "I have never looked at myself, but I do not see how I will ever accommodate such size in me," she blurted out.
Darcy could not repress his merriment. His wife's reasoning was diverting to say the least. He patiently sat on the bed and taking her hand he tried to calm her. "Lizzy, dearest. Surely you know how babies are born?"
"I do."
"Do you know the passage they take to come into the world?"
"I do."
"Well, to make you mine I will take the same passage. Do you think I am bigger than a baby?"
"No, you are not."
"Do you see my point?"
Elizabeth blushed. How silly of her! Of course he was not so big. All of a sudden she felt so stupid! So childishly naïve! Darcy kissed her lovingly on her cheeks and began to caress her waist and her belly. Not long afterwards he was making love to her the way he always did. But Elizabeth could not find pleasure in his attentions. Her mind was still engaged in the size of her husband's amatorial instrument.
"Darcy?"
No answer. He had his mouth too much distracted with her inner thighs to afford conversation.
"Darcy!"
He raised his head with a frustrated look upon his face. "What? What is it?"
"I have heard the pains a woman goes through to give birth to a child, and it is no little thing. Will it be so painful?"
He paused for a while to find the right answer. One that would satisfy both her curiosity and calm her fears.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean when you…" she gave him a meaningful look.
Darcy sighed, and abandoning his amorous exertions (which he now saw were being bestowed in vain) sat facing her. "Lizzy," he said a little impatiently. "I have not been with any woman in my life other than you, so I can hardly tell you if it will be painful or not. However, in my humble experience, I have seen many women throwing themselves into my arms. Some of them were well known for their habit of taking lovers, once and twice going through many disadvantages only to lie with a man. If it were as painful as you seem to believe I doubt they would be so eager to be with them, would they?"
Love Calls Again Page 50