Chapter 20
The difficulties
Darcy had faced during the trial that was finding Wickham and Miss Lydia and
producing their wedding had left him little time to reflect on what had
occurred before his departure from Pemberley and in consequence, his
relationship with his wife. Now on his way home, an affair that he would wish
to be much clearer was still as confusing as it had been before.
The correspondence
Darcy exchanged with Elizabeth
during these last days did very little to settle things between them or give
him an indication of how to proceed when they finally reunited. His broken hand
did not allow him much chance to write and in the impossibility of transmitting
the true reasons for his departure, Darcy preferred not to risk a deterioration
of his condition by writing a letter that would only contain trivialities and
inaccurate reports of his whereabouts in London.
After so many disagreements and misunderstandings, he finally understood the
necessity of having a much deeper and meaningful communication with his wife. So
far his marriage had been unconventional enough and it was high time that they transform
it into the union of understanding and mutual respect that he so much dreamt of.
While Darcy was
perfectly aware that talk to his wife was the best course of action to follow,
he did not have an inkling of how to approach Elizabeth on the subject of intimacy. At this
point he was not certain if she held him responsible for her sister’s
elopement, if she loved him or not, and if she would be inclined to accept him
in her bed. Nothing was certain between them. They had never discussed his first
letter, or their feelings or anything concerning their marriage. Though
together, they had lived separated lives.
What Darcy knew for
sure, though, was that he could not be expected to behave with the same
detachment he had before their first kiss as a married couple. He had achieved such
extraordinary level of closeness with his wife these past weeks that it was
time to end their ridiculous courtship and move things towards complete
intimacy. His most inner sensibilities had been stirred by their kisses and he
had been brought back to those days of complete enchantment that marked the
beginning of their acquaintance, when his heart swelled with the prospect of romancing
the delightful Miss Elizabeth Bennet, when his ardour was awakened by the mere
thought of the lady with ivory skin and rosy lips. The carnal deprivation he
had suffered these past months had taken a toll on him and was now all
anticipation for the moment when Elizabeth
would become his.
A jolt in the
carriage took him out of his reverie. The coach came to a halt and he could
hear the voices of the coachman and the footman saying something about the
wheel. Darcy descended to inspect the damage, hoping that it wasn’t
serious enough to delay his journey.
“Unfortunately
the wheel is broken, Sir,” the coachman declared with resignation. “We
cannot continue without repairing it.”
“How far away
from the inn are we?” enquired Darcy.
“Not much, Sir,
I believe it’s only two or three miles.”
Darcy cursed his
damned fate. “Do you think it can
be repaired over night?”
‘I
don’t think so, sir, they will have to make a new one,” replied the
coachman, knowing his master’s haste to return home.
“Then I shall
walk ahead with the footman and send you some help,” the gentleman
announced. “I will hire a chaise
to continue my journey. You must head for Pemberley as soon as the wheel is
repaired.”
“Aye,
sir.”
But Darcy’s
hopes of having a speedy and comfortable return home were shattered when he
arrived at the inn and was informed that there was no available carriage,
forcing him to continue his journey on horseback. He found a fairly suitable horse
and galloped towards his next stop until it became too dark to go on. With the
first light of the following morning, he finally reached the road to Pemberley.
To the
inconvenience of riding an entire day with a broken hand that was just
beginning to heal, Darcy had to add another source of discomfort that made his journey
even more unpleasant. This was most certainly an exceedingly hot and humid
summer, with frequent storms of short duration but of great intensity that
occurred when they were least expected. Before long, Darcy was caught in a
heavy downpour. Drenched to the bone and on a much slippery road, the pace he
wanted to impose on his horse decreased considerably, making his trip considerably
slower and eventful.
By the time he arrived home he was tired, hot,
and with a very bad headache.
“Mrs.
Darcy.” Mrs. Reynolds addressed the mistress in her sitting room.
“Yes?”
“I believe
the master is coming. One of the footmen saw a rider approaching the house. He
looks very much like Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth rushed towards the
window to see the newcomer and was granted with the unmistakable sight of her now
beloved husband. Wild with excitement for the prospect of seeing him again, she
hurried to the main entrance to greet him.
In less than a
minute, Elizabeth
was at the door, where she was met by Georgiana, watching Darcy as he galloped towards
them.
“Mr. Darcy,
welcome home,” Elizabeth
offered with a smile. If only there would not be so many servants around, she
would have jumped into his arms instead of addressing him so formally.
“Madam,”
he smiled too, but weakly and tiredly.
“Good God, William!”
said Georgiana, placing a hand on his arm. “You look awful! Have you been
riding in the rain again? Why did you not bring the carriage? This is a most
unhealthy habit you are acquiring, one day you will become seriously ill!”
Darcy did not have
the patience to reply with amiability at his sister’s well intended
–albeit meddlesome-- scold in front of the servants. The exasperation in
his tone was so evident that both ladies almost startled when he spoke. “The
blasted wheel broke, Georgiana, and there was no carriage at the inn. I had to
ride from ---shire to Pemberley.”
Miss Darcy was not
used to see her brother in such a foul mood and refrained to say anything else.
Mrs. Darcy, on the other hand, was so shocked by the whole scene that she did
not know how to approach him. She wanted to comfort him, but he seemed …
unwelcoming.
“You look
unwell,” she said quietly.
Darcy’s
expression immediately softened when he heard her sweet voice and he replied in
a much kinder, gentler manner. “I am fine, only a little tired.”
“Then you
must rest.”
He nodded and
showed her the faintest of smiles as he offered her his arm.
As they entered the
house, Georgiana excused herself from their company and the couple walked
through the halls in silence. When they reached his rooms, Elizabeth released Darcy’s arm and told
him she was going to ring for a servant.
“Are you sure
you are not ill?” Elizabeth
asked with genuine concern.
“Do not
worry. I am perfectly well,” he said with feeling as he took her delicate
hand in his.
A footman appeared at
the gallery and Darcy quickly withdrew his hold, much to Elizabeth’s disappointment. “Shall
I see you at supper, then?”
“Yes, you
shall,” he said and bowed before he disappeared into his chambers.
During the entire
evening, Elizabeth
waited for her husband to join her, but he never came. He did not descend for dinner
and when she enquired after him, she was told that the master was still
resting. She even thought of going to his bedchamber to see if he was well but
as she had never stepped inside his rooms before, Elizabeth did not think appropriate to intrude
into his personal domain while he was still at rest. All she could do now was
to wait for him to come to her and hope that this sudden and completely
unexpected detachment he was displaying did not mean that her worst nightmare
was finally coming true.
Darcy slid into the
hot tub and sighed as the tension slowly left his body. He only needed to rest
for a moment and he would be ready to join his wife and sister for dinner. The
warmth of the water did marvels to recover his aching muscles and he left the
tub renewed and invigorated. But once in his bedroom, his large bed became a
tempting sight that was unable to resist. Perhaps he could lie down for a
while, until supper. He let his body fall on the mattress and closed his eyes
….
… Mmmmmmh. I am feeling
much better now. Darcy rolled onto his side and hugged the pillow. Slowly, he opened his
eyes and remained there, enjoying the warmth of the bed for a little longer. Just
what he needed: a short nap to recover himself from his exertions. With a lazy
smile, he stretched his body and observed how the sunlight peeked through the
heavy draperies of his bedroom. His smile disappeared immediately as he
realized that the sun NEVER entered through his window in the evenings and that
it had to be early in the morning. Absolutely wild for having slept all night
through, he jumped out of the bed to ring for his valet and began a frantic
search of his clothes.
Foster appeared in
his room only seconds later, pleasantly surprising Darcy with his efficiency
and almost superhuman haste.
“Good timing,
man. I fear I overslept,” said Darcy while getting rid of is robe.
“Good
morning, sir. I must.....”
“What time is
it?”
The conscientious
valet glanced at his fob watch. “Only six thirty, sir.
I...”
“Good, still
early, so there is no reason to run, then.” The gentleman was relieved
that he had not slept until too late.
“Excuse me,
Sir,” the valet interrupted on realizing that his master was not paying
him much attention. “Mr. Rawson is here to see you.”
Darcy was aware
that his steward would never come this early to see him unless there was some
sort problem in the estate. “Is anything the matter?”
“I believe there
was a fire in the mill, Sir,” Foster said circumspectly.
“Good
Gracious! I want my horse saddled immediately.”
Darcy dressed as
fast as he could and left the house.
“Mrs.
Reynolds, have you seen Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth
had been looking for him for more than an hour and couldn’t find him.
“He left
early, Madam.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth was exceedingly
surprised that he had left the house without informing her.
“Mr. Rawson
came to see him this morning. I believe there was a problem in the mill and
they headed in that direction with the first light. It’s improbable that
he will return for lunch.”
“Thank
you.”
Darcy’s
sudden departure only served to increase the concerns that had been the cause
of her sleeplessness during the time he was gone. In so many months of
marriage, this was first time Darcy had shown himself so unconcerned of her
person and she could only conclude that his unseeing behaviour was caused by
the unfavourable connection that her sister’s new stature had imposed on
him. Not even after the terrible argument of their wedding night he had left
her alone for breakfast. And now, on the morn of his first day at home after a
long absence, he had left the house without previous notice.
Feeling that her
panic was starting to dominate her, Elizabeth
took a deep breath and commanded herself to remain calm. But despite her best endeavours,
her anxiety would not recede and those horrible thoughts of annulments and
uncertain futures away from Pemberley and her beloved husband continued to
torture her. Her heart did whisper that
this was not the case, that she should have more faith in his esteem, even when
she could no longer hope to be benefited by it. How could she depend on him
preserving his affection for her after she had rejected him so brutally? What
reasons would he have to continue a marriage that she had refused to
consummate? Even if Lydia’s
marriage had been concluded on more honourable terms, the damage caused to Elizabeth would have been
equally disastrous because to every other objection Darcy had voiced against
her family now she would have to add this dreadful alliance with the man whom
he so justly scorned. Fitzwilliam Darcy brother-in-law of George
Wickham? Impossible!
So this was to be
her fate? After having everything, a formidable husband, a magnificent house,
she would have to return to Longbourn and live with the remembrance of what she
lost? Survive on her family’s charity? No, she could not suffer such humiliation.
She would find employment as a governess and die an old maiden rather than
return to Longbourn, scorned and humiliated by her husband’s demission.
Darcy returned from
his errand late in the afternoon, but Elizabeth
had no chance to speak with him. He seemed distracted when he arrived, concerned by matters she was unaware of and, in
appearance, too busy to pay attention to her. They met briefly in the hall
where he stopped to greet her --kindly and smilingly-- but he quickly made his
excuses and disappeared inside his study with his steward. She saw him again
during supper and even that meeting turned out to be an extremely distressing
event.
“Mr. Darcy,
you did not have the chance to tell us about your trip to London,”
Elizabeth asked
as they dined.
“All went
well, I thank you,” Darcy responded politely but succinctly.
“Did you
happen to see my father and uncle during your stay? My aunt told me that you
were invited to dine with them the night before your departure.” She
almost said ‘after the wedding’ but fortunately she corrected
herself before the mishap.
Here Darcy blinked
a couple of times before replying, pondering what to say. He chose to honour
his decision of not telling her of his involvement in this dreadful case and did
not disclose anything regarding his visit to the Gardiners that would betray
the true reasons for him being in London.
“Yes,
briefly.”
“I hope you found them in good health,”
Elizabeth elaborated
on seeing that he would not.
“They were in
perfect health.”
After such evident
demonstration of unwillingness to expand their conversation, Elizabeth abandoned her attempts at colloquy
and turned her attention to her meal, which was left untouched, except when
toyed around her dish. The rest of the repast was spent in uncomfortable
silence, Elizabeth’s
heart consumed with anguish and uncertainty about a future she imagined would
be exceedingly unpromising.
As soon as they
finished dining, a very distracted Darcy excused himself from the ladies and headed
for his study. Determined to find out the reasons behind her husband’s wondrous
behaviour, Elizabeth
told Georgiana that there was something she needed to discuss with her brother
and followed Darcy to his private domain. With a racing pulse and unsettled
stomach, she stared at the massive door, readying herself for the worst. She
took a deep breath, and knocked.
“Forgive me
for imposing upon your privacy,” she began after she was allowed in. “But
there is something I must tell you.”
Elizabeth was overcome by
nervousness, so much that she almost felt ill. He husband’s puzzled
expression did not help to settle her spirits and her courage dwindled, giving
way to an increasing incertitude. “But, if you are too busy, I can come
back later”, se said, now ready to flee out of the room.
“Oh no,
please, stay, it can wait,” Darcy hurried to say. Whatever was that had
brought her to his door; it had to be important as she looked extremely
distressed. “Pray, go ahead.”
Seconds of painful
hesitation followed, where Elizabeth
could not compose herself enough to speak. But when the words finally came out,
she said the worst possible thing she could have told her husband.
“Sir, I ...
Mr. Darcy, I ... well ... that is ... if it is your wish to annul our marriage,
I will present no objections.”
The shock that
Darcy felt after her unexpected declaration almost made his heart stop. Truly, he
had never expected to hear a petition of that nature delivered by his beloved
wife’s lips. Driven to a state of mute astonishment, there was no
coherent thought in his mind and he just stared at her, thinking of what to reply
to her statement. He was not sure that he had understood correctly and wondering
if he had heard right, endless seconds later, in a voice that was barely above
a whisper, he asked,
“Annul?”
Elizabeth could not bring
herself to speak and too nervous to even look at him, kept her eyes down while
her husband rose from his chair and walked towards the window.
“Do you want
an annulment, Elizabeth?”
he enquired gravely as his eyes perused the darkness of the gardens.
“Sir,”
she replied with great agitation, “My condition in life is not the same
since my youngest sister’s elopement and the disrepute that has befallen
upon my family may, in consequence, dishonour your house. Lydia’s
imprudent marriage to Mr. Wickham has brought a most undesirable connection and
I cannot expose you or Georgiana to such shame. The poor girl has suffered too
much in the hands of that scoundrel to have to endure the disgrace of calling
him brother. As for you...”
“Elizabeth, answer me,”
he demanded sharply as he turned towards her. “Do you want to annul our marriage?”
“No!”
she cried, but immediately composed herself. “... I mean, I think
it’s for the best, Sir. I do not wish to see you displeased or
dishonoured because of me.”
Darcy decided this
was his last chance to disclose his true feelings. He addressed her in a voice
thick with emotion, hoping that she would not break his heart a second time.
“You are too
generous to trifle with me. If your sentiments towards me are the same they
were in our wedding night, please tell me so at once. My affections and wishes had
remained unchanged. If it is your desire to annul our marriage, I will accept
your decision and never insist on it again. But I beg you, madam, to not use
your connection with Wickham as an excuse to spare my feelings. Simply tell me
what you truly want.”
“My
feelings,” she couldn’t face him directly, experiencing
all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety for his situation now that she
realized the pain that her petition must have caused him. “My feelings
are so different. I ...” Elizabeth was finally able to lift her eyes and
was instantly disarmed by the apprehension she saw in his. “I do not want
to hurt you any more.”
Elizabeth, who had had
been resisting the urge to run into his arms, finally surrendered to her own
need to embrace her husband. She could see his anxiety, his despair brightening
his eyes and walked toward him. They met halfway and their bodies joined in a
tight embrace.
“Please do
not go,” he whispered into her hair.
“I will never
leave you, William. Please forgive me. I have hurt you so much.”
The next instant
they were kissing, hungrily, fervently. Longing, love, desire, everything was
unleashed and poured in an ardent and completely unrestrained kiss. Slowly,
anguish and longing subdued and the kiss turned slow and gentle, deep, sensual,
the kind of kiss that was the portal for something more intense and intimate.
Breathless, Darcy
pulled back and eased his hold on her, bringing her head to rest close to his
heart. It was too much, too many emotions released and he needed a moment to
compose himself. But now that she was allowed to speak
and breathe, Elizabeth
blessed him with one of the most beautiful words he had heard in his life.
“I love you,
William,” she said with tenderness that he found utterly touching.
“And I love
you, Elizabeth,” said he, joy illuminating his face. “You are most
precious to me.”
Again, they kissed,
tenderly, as if their happiness were too much to keep it from bursting out of
themselves. This time Elizabeth
was the one who ended the kiss. She held his face in her hands and pulled back
until their eyes met.
“I want to be
your wife.”
Not much else
needed to be said for him to understand what that meant. In only an instant,
she was swung into his arms and carried through the house as the sounds of
their laughter echoed in the halls.
“Mr.
Darcy!” Elizabeth
tightened the hold on his neck as her husband climbed the stairs, “What
will the servants say?”
“Madam,”
he grinned, “I could not care less.”
Their lips met the
moment he stepped on even ground. They kissed all the way down the gallery and
until they reached the door of her bedchamber where Darcy struggled with the
doorknob while trying not to drop her. They both chuckled against each
other’s mouths but didn’t break the kiss.
“Allow me,
Sir,” an astonished –yet apparently immutable-- footman completed
the task for him.
“Thank
you.” Darcy’s nod was as dignified as possible. Elizabeth hid her face in the crook of his
neck.
Still smiling
because of their encounter with the servant, Darcy stepped inside his
wife’s bedroom and pushed the door close with his rear.
“I believe
the entire household will be talking about this tomorrow, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth laughed as her
husband deposited her on the ground.
Darcy stepped
closer and placed his hands on her waist. “So let us give them a good
reason to talk, Mrs. Darcy.”
His lips came to cover
hers and he brought her closer to him, pressing her to his body. There was
nothing chaste about this kiss, it was full of desire and passion and Elizabeth was consumed by
the ardour of his embrace.
“Shall I
leave you alone so you can … change?” he murmured against the soft
skin under her ear, inwardly hoping that she would refuse his gallant offering.
“I … I
…” Elizabeth
could not think clearly and was having trouble to come up with a coherent reply.
“I would rather not part from you just now.”
Thoroughly touched
by her candour and innocence, the besotted husband raised his hand to his
wife’s face to caress the velvety skin of her cheek. He kissed her, again
and again, sometimes sweetly, sometimes more passionately, always trying not to
pressure her, until he felt her responding with more confidence.
“You do not
know how many times I have thought of tearing your door apart and come to your
rooms to make love to you,” he said as he moved his attentions to her
neck.
“You do not
know how many times I waited for you to come to me,” she responded in
between sighs.
There was something
extremely arousing about his wife’s honest confession; to know that she
had desired him as much as he had wanted her only served to fuel his passion to
a point where he could not wait anymore. He ignored his endeavours to proceed
with care and began to struggle with buttons of his tailcoat, which he readily removed,
followed by the waistcoat until he was only clad in his shirt and trousers.
While Darcy had
already discarded some of his garments, Elizabeth
was very much dressed and showed no signs that she would disrobe herself from
her clothes. She was timidly helping him with the knots of his neck cloth. She did
not seem unwilling to undress, on the contrary, she simply
appeared to be shy. Should he ask her? Should he help her? Given her
inexperience in these more intimate affairs, perhaps she just needed an
indication that she should start. With that concern in mind –and some
others that the author would rather not mention due to their wanton content-- Darcy
dutifully dedicated himself to the most rewarding task of assisting his bride
to get rid of her clothes. His fingers found his way to her back and he began
to undo the ties of her dress while applying some very distracting kisses on
her mouth and cheek.
“I am not
very much acquainted with the fastenings of women’s clothing,” Darcy
said a moment later, “but I think I’m done with this.”
Elizabeth had already felt
the unmistakable sensation of her gown loosening around her boson and realized
that she should be more participative or otherwise Darcy might feel discouraged
by her lack of collaboration. Even though she was blushing to the roots of her
hair with the prospect of being undressed in front of her husband, she gathered
her courage and eased the sleeve of her dress off one shoulder, a task in which
Darcy readily assisted her while pressing his mouth once again on hers. The
gown reached the floor in an instant.
The lovers paused
to look at each other, both a little breathless and flushed,
eyes full of love and desire. Elizabeth
stepped closer and placed one hand on his heart, openly inviting him to come to
her. Darcy quickly understood her meaning and bent to carry her in his arms to take
her directly to the bed. There they fell and lay together, facing each other,
their gazes locked, smiles of love and affection betraying repressed emotions
that should have been expressed sooner and that could not be contained anymore.
“You are who
I love most, dearest.” Darcy’s fingertips brushed her cheek.
“And I love you with all
my heart,” she answered feelingly.
Their mouths joined, gently at
first but with growing passion as Darcy moved closer to lean partially on top
of her, reintroducing his wife to sensations that she had not felt since their
engagement, more precisely, since the day prior to their wedding, when they
shared that brief yet passionate interlude in one of Longbourn’s rooms. His
hands were now touching her with no restraint and the bulge of his trousers became
a very tangible evidence of his state of desire. On sensing no withdrawal or
displeasure from Elizabeth’s
part, he was tempted to go forward and tentatively moved his hand down her leg
to lift her petticoat so he could touch her under the fabric. But unfortunately
for the aroused husband, it was not the tender skin of his wife’s thigh
what he found, but the rougher linen of her drawers. Darcy inwardly cursed lady’s
fashions for putting so many obstacles in his unrelenting pursue of his
wife’s womanhood and for an instant he wished they were more like the
savages from those science books that walked around this world deprived of all
the restraints that polished societies imposed on his class.
The young wife shared his
frustration, but for different motives. With her body inflamed by passion, she
was overcome by the necessity to feel him and hold him yet she found she was
incapable to exteriorize her desire for him. Oh, how she wished she would be
more immodest show her husband how much she wanted him! Touch him with the same
liberality he was touching her! Alas, but no, she was told that it was not
appropriate for a young lady to overtly display such libertine behaviour in
front of a gentleman of her husband’s stature, and remained passive, almost
prudish in front of his ardour, even when her heart and body were begging her
to act with less restraint.
Darcy was reaching a point
where he knew he could not hold back much longer. Something about his
wife’s attitude was driving him mad with lust. Though not extremely demonstrative,
her sighs, her little whimpering whenever he touched her, the goose bumps in
her skin and her flushed countenance told him that she was enjoying herself
exceedingly and that stimulated him to a higher level. Despite his best
endeavours to not overwhelm his virginal wife with his hymeneal appetites,
Darcy was a red blooded male, a man ardently in love who was more than ready to
surrender to his most primal instincts and perform a ritual that is as old as
time. Breathless, with his mind fogged by desire, Darcy rolled off his wife and
sat on the bed to remove his shirt.
Now free from her
husband’s possessive hold, seeing that he was distracted by his own
clothes, --he had been considered enough to have undressed himself with his
back turned to her-- Elizabeth
also got rid of most of her remaining garments and hurried inside the bed, pulling
the covers up to her chin. Her husband joined her under the covers a moment
later, as naked as the day he was born, and moved closer until he touched Elizabeth under the
sheets. He felt the delicate skin of her legs against his rougher ones, their
toes touching, playing, and the warmth of her hip against his thigh.
They smiled at each other, he more
calmly, she, with some apprehension. Her eyes alternated glances at his face,
his naked chest and broad shoulders recognizing parts of him that, until now,
had remained hidden to her eyes.
“Do not fear, my love,”
he whispered as he applied some soft kisses over her face.
“I do not.”
His lips touched hers, and Elizabeth responded, but
with unexpected shyness. This didn’t discourage her devoted husband, who
insisted; now with a much longer and deeper kiss. He was advancing so slowly
and so respectfully that Elizabeth
could not but feel grateful for his patience and soon began to loose the last
remains of maidenly embarrassment she had left as she acquired the boldness of a
woman willing to give herself to her man.
“Let me see you,”
he asked as he lowered the bed sheets from over her chest.
She nodded her consent with a
bashful smile. Darcy proceeded to uncover her slowly, revealing the thin
chemise she was still wearing. Elizabeth’s
breathing became laboured and so did her husband’s at the sight of the
white linen tightening over her breasts with every raise of her chest. He
lowered his face to them, kissed them over the fabric and then, with delicate
fingers, he undid the buttons so he could expose them to his sight and touch.
Elizabeth closed her eyes
and sighed at the first contact of his hands on her chest. His fingertips
gently brushed her nipples and caressed the supple skin of her bosom. His lips
followed suit, with some restraint at first, but then more licentiously as he
satiated his thirst for her on her flesh.
Not much time passed before
Darcy’s hand advanced over other parts of her body that were completely
new to him. While his mouth indulged in his wife’s creamy breasts, his
fingertips drew circles on her abdomen stirring goose bumps on her skin. He
then took a much bolder route, brushing her side, teasing her with sensuous
moves but never touching where he knew she was not ready to be touched. Elizabeth held her breath
at this not so subtle insinuation but remained passive, receptive,
honouring the promise she made to never again reject him from his lovemaking
pursuits.
At this point Darcy stopped
every caress and looked seriously at his wife, a silent question in his eyes. His
erection was brushing her thigh and the fire of his stare told her exactly what
he wanted. She understood that the time had come, and pressing her palm to his
cheek, whispered an inviting ‘come to me’.
Darcy rolled on top of her,
fully covering her body with his. They lay still for a moment, both delighting
themselves in the wonderful sensation of feeling skin against skin. What
followed happened naturally. Her legs parted and out of pure instinct and lust,
she moved invitingly under his weight. His reaction did not wait long to come
with one hand, guided himself into her.
Elizabeth gasped at the
first contact of their fleshes, more out of newness than displeasure. It was in
fact a combination of novelty and anticipation, also arousal and perhaps a
little fear for the unknown. As slowly as his passion allowed him, Darcy moved
further into her but stopped when his wife’s body tensed by what he
supposed was maidenly discomfort. There was an instant where he considered how
to proceed without hurting her, though he knew it was impossible. He moved his
body, hesitated when she tensed again and almost retreated.
“Make me your wife,
William,” she urged him in between breaths, ready and desirous to become
one with her husband.
With a moan that muffled her heave,
Darcy pushed himself all the way in. He began to move slowly but steadily and
as the initial pain was replaced by more satisfactory sensations, Elizabeth rejoiced in the
indescribable feeling of having her husband inside of her. With their bodies
united in an ancient dance, they moved and breathed against each other until an
unknown force beyond their control guided them to the peak that finally sealed
the union of man and wife.
They made love several times
that night, each time with less reserve and more confidence, until in total
exhaustion and bliss, their bodies surrendered to their tiredness and they fell
asleep so close to each other that they were only one.
Fitzwilliam Darcy
stirred in the darkness, awakened by the delicious sensation of having his wife
sleeping in his arms. Smiling drowsily, he brushed his fingers along her body
and closed his eyes again, this time certain that he was not dreaming; that she
was indeed there.
“I love you,
my wife,” he whispered against her shoulder.
“And I love
you, my husband,” she responded drowsily.
With a content sigh, he fell asleep again.