As Only a
Husband and Wife Ought
a Jane Austen fan fiction vignette
by Lucy
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"Éhe expressed himself on the
occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed
to do."
Jane Austen
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In which we
explore the growing intimacy between
Darcy and
Elizabeth in and around the time of their wedding
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"Darcy!" Bingley called as his friend made his
way to the door, "Where are you going?"
Darcy turned to him with a warm smile upon his lips, his
state of happiness clearly visible upon his countenance. He chuckled lightly.
"What a rather foolish question, Bingley, and from you of all people. I am
to Longbourn, of course."
"At this
hour?"
"My Miss Bennet is a very early riser."
"Oh! I
see." Bingley replied, unable to disguise his minor disappointment.
"It will
matter not in two days time," Darcy offered in sympathy.
Bingley smiled
broadly in response and sighed dreamily: "Two days!"
"Yes, two days. And as your home will be inundated
with arriving wedding guests later this morning and we shall likely not have a
moment alone with our brides until after we are actually wed, I am taking
advantage of this last morning of quiet. So I will not dawdle with you any
longer, I have a far fairer companion awaiting me at not three miles
distance!"
When Darcy
arrived posthaste at Longbourn and Hill conducted him to the breakfast room he
was more than a little surprised to find only Mr. Bennet, for he had made it
quite clear to his bride that he would arrive at the earliest possible hour.
"Ah!" Mr. Bennet remarked dryly as he dropped a
splash of milk into his tea. "Ever the eager bridegroom, Mr. Darcy?"
"Yes,
well," he replied awkwardly, not without a slight blush rising to his
face, for the hour was really not all that is respectable. "I had
anticipated finding your daughter prepared for some early morning exercise,
sir."
"She
shall be down shortly then, I am sure. While my company will certainly be far
less engaging, I have no doubt I can keep you at least momentarily
distracted."
Mr. Bennet was
fairly certain that the unsettling impact Lizzy apparently had upon the
customary formality of such a formidable and tall fellow was one of the most
amusing spectacles he had beheld in quite some time. It had been nearly two
months since this same gentleman had gravely disturbed his equilibrium by
claiming his favorite daughter's hand in marriage, but he had found the
restitution of the same easy enough as he discovered that, as in everything in
her life, his Lizzy had not at all disappointed him. Although upon further
acquaintance he could not agree with her that Mr. Darcy was not a proud gentleman,
he had most happily learnt that he was not at all a disagreeable one as had
been so long supposed by all and sundry about the neighborhood. Indeed, he
found his Lizzy had claimed as a husband a profoundly honorable, rather
sensible and surprisingly clever fellow. Mr. Bennet, in truth, held great hopes
for the union and for his own future entertainment, for there was something
altogether delightful in witnessing this fine, reserved gentleman attempt to
suppress the enthusiastic sentiments that perceptibly overwhelmed him whenever
in the presence of his intended. It was a far more entertaining sight to behold
than Bingley's candid and obvious besottedness.
With little
choice but to await the arrival of his lovely bride, Mr. Darcy availed himself
of a cup of coffee and sat near his future father-in-law, who made no attempt
to engage him in conversation, choosing instead to continue perusing the
newspaper.
Mr. Bennet's
future son-in-law watched him for a moment in silence, or perhaps it would be
more accurate to say he stared at the newspaper behind which Mr. Bennet sat.
While thus engaged, the eager groom reflected on the very singular gentleman
with whom he would soon be so closely aligned. A gentleman more different from
his own excellent father was difficult to conjure. Mr. Bennet was so very
sharp-witted, so remarkably intelligent, so indisputably charming, and yet so
shockingly lackadaisical and negligent. He wondered not for the first time (nor
would it be the last) that his Elizabeth and Bingley's Jane should be such
superior, such excellent ladies, but it was a query he no longer indulged for
more than a passing moment, and surely not one he felt at all inclined to
vocalize. It mattered not. All that was of import was that in two days time the
most worthy, delightful, charming and bewitching woman he had ever had the
pleasure to know would be his wife. His wife, he thought with a deep private
elation rising in his bosom-for while Darcy was certainly not of a disposition
in which happiness overflowed in mirth, he did feel himself, since that
enchanting morning when Miss Elizabeth Bennet had agreed to become his wife,
verily flooded with happy expectation. A small, satisfied sigh escaped from
between his lips.
Mr. Bennet
could not, for all he might wish to, allow such a surprising display of lover's
impatience to pass unremarked. Darcy allowed the good man's insolent indulgence
with grace and they settled back into a quiet companionship.
"Sir," Darcy said abruptly, after a short time
passed, "I hope you shall not feel it necessary to delay a visit to
Pemberley. I am sure Miss Elizabeth will be desirous of your company at your
earliest convenience, and of course I have every confidence that you would
enjoy the library most particularly."
Mr. Bennet
liked very much that Darcy continued to call his intended Miss Elizabeth; he saw it as a mark of the high
respect the young man held her in and felt it boded well for her future at his
side.
"Have no
fear, young man, I shall arrive when I am least expected, of that you may be
certain." He was about to inquire again of the library - for it sounded a
slice of heaven to the older gentleman--but his fresh-faced daughter entered
the room and it was immediately clear Darcy had no further wish to discuss his
library.
"Good
morning Mr. Darcy! Have I kept you waiting very long?" inquired Elizabeth.
Mr. Bennet
smiled, not at his daughter, but at her bridegroom. For the change in his
countenance upon her entry was notable: he seemed younger, kinder, less portentous.
But Mr. Bennet did not have long to enjoy the exhibition of young love, for the
betrothed couple soon made their way out into the chilly autumn morning.
As soon as
they were alone and out of doors, Mr. Darcy gave his bride a more intimate
greeting. When Elizabeth responded with unanticipated reserve, he could only
assume that he had been, in fact, a bit inconsiderate the prior evening when he
had so vigorously insisted upon such an early morning walk at a time of year
the mornings were particularly chilly, and that she had been too generous to
deny him his whim.
"You are
not too cold? I am very selfish to want you all to myself before the others
arrive," said he penitently as he took her hand and placed it tenderly in
the crook of his arm, with no evident intention of forgoing their walk whatever
her response.
"It is
rather chilly, but I am glad of it and of your company," replied she, her
eyes down-turned and looking most attentively to the path just in front of her
feet and not at all at her betrothed.
Darcy cocked
his head and furrowed his brow. She seemed a little impassive this morning, and
very withdrawn. He thought on how trying the last few weeks had been with so
many tedious teas and dinners before the wedding. Mrs. Bennet had once proudly
boasted of the four and twenty families with whom they dined and it seemed that
in the last fortnight's time they had been entertained by them all. He recalled
how throughout these evenings Elizabeth had consistently and wordlessly
attempted to shield him from some of her more boorish relations and neighbors,
and concluded she must simply be tired from so much effort. He regretted that
she felt it a necessary task, but was grateful nonetheless. With a protective
instinct he pulled her closer toward him as they walked on, reckoning that this
afternoon would be his opportunity to return her compassionate assistance.
"I
anticipate the Earl and Lady Margaret to arrive with Georgiana in time for
lunch, later to be followed by my cousins. Georgiana is so eager to see you
again."
"And I
her. I believe we began to be friends when I was in London last month."
"She
admires you greatly Elizabeth. She has told me that she has never met such a
confident and independent young lady. She is very pleased you shall be her
sister."
Elizabeth took
a deep breath; as of late she was feeling neither confident nor independent.
"I am glad that she approves of me. You may bear the disapprobation of others
with apparent stoicism, but I know you could not have borne the same from
Georgiana."
Although the
subject was a sensitive one, Elizabeth's tone was flat and dull. Darcy was sure
he had never seen her so inhibited. He would have wished to assure her that his
uncle's presence at their wedding was testimony to his approbation of their
union, but she was too intelligent to not understand it was an unenthusiastic
sanction for the sake of appearances. Indeed when Darcy had made Elizabeth's
introduction to his family in Town a month earlier the Earl had managed to be
both impeccably civil and entirely unwelcoming. Only his aunt had been kind and
friendly. Perhaps she was just as weary as he with so many relations
interfering in their discourse and disdaining their happiness. He was impatient
to have her as his wife and in the warm, intimate sanctuary of their own home.
"When I
returned to Netherfield last evening I found a letter awaiting me from Mrs.
Smyth."
Elizabeth
smiled, pleased he had turned their conversation to a less difficult topic. She
was, in truth, feeling entirely overwhelmed and excessively susceptible as the
day of her marriage approached. It was not in her nature to be such, and yet a
kind of timidity had been building within her since they had been to London and
she had experienced a suggestion of what her life was to be as Mrs. Darcy.
"She
seems an excellent housekeeper. She was most helpful when we were in
Town."
"You will
be pleased with her. She has been in my employ these four years now and is
remarkably efficient. She writes that all your instructions have been completed
and she is quite certain you will be pleased with the results. I did make one
minor change, which I trust will be to your liking."
"Certainly in your home you may make whatever changes
you deem appropriate."
Such an
acquiescent response bewildered Darcy and he replied with incredulity. "I
suppose you could argue that today it remains only my home, but in two days
time it most definitely shall be our home. What is more, Elizabeth, we are
speaking of your chambers. I think you would justifiably find me impertinent
for making any changes to your instructions." They continued for a moment
in a less than companionable silence, before he added: "In truth this is a
minor detail. Shall I tell you now or should you like it to be a
surprise?"
"Whatever
you wish, sir."
He had started
the day in such an ebullient mood and he was growing ever more concerned with
her decidedly dissimilar humor and he wished almost desperately to lift her
spirits.
"Very
well, I shall tell you. Do you recall when we were in Town and we visited the
exhibition at the Royal Academy? You were so taken with Mr. Constable's
paintings that I have purchased you a most lovely landscape so that when we are
in London you need not miss your beloved country walks. When you awaken every
morning you shall have before you a beautiful vision of the English
countryside."
She thanked
him with gentle sincerity for his thoughtfulness, but remained altogether quiet
and withdrawn.
Disappointed
by her muted response, he persisted, thinking he could distract her from her
sullenness. "The painting will look lovely, as well, with the changes you
have made to your chambers. As I said earlier, Mrs. Smyth is confident you
shall be well pleased with the results."
"I do not
doubt that I shall be, having spent so extravagantly! I still cannot comprehend
that you should have insisted on such extremes."
Much against her
inclinations, Elizabeth had allowed herself to be persuaded to spend rather
liberally when redecorating what would be her chambers. But Darcy had insisted.
The rooms had not been lived in for nearly ten years and had not been
redecorated for much more than that, the late Lady Anne having spent so little
time in Town during her last years of life. Elizabeth had been more than
desirous of changing the dcor, for as it was it did not suit her at all, but
had felt the final expense too great. For his part, Darcy had delighted in
requiring her to spend lavishly upon herself and relished each demonstration of
sincere reluctance on her part, for it only confirmed what he had long known:
her acceptance of his hand was disinterested and true.
"You were
in no way extravagant, my love. You had best become accustomed to greater
expenditures, at any rate." He saw her furrow her brow beneath the rim of
her bonnet and suspected he had made a rather inelegant and thoughtless remark.
"In any case, Mrs. Smyth has ensured me that your chambers are now quite
elegant, very warm and very..." he paused a moment as she looked up into
his face. She had the most delicate little frown on her lips and her beautiful
eyes searched his face questioningly. The chilly morning air had leant an extra
freshness to her complexion. She looked terribly lovely.
"And
very?"
"Inviting," he added softly. Elizabeth blushed and
turned away.
They continued
walking in silence and Darcy could not catch the expression on her down-turned
face, covered from his view as it was by her bonnet's rim. In truth, Elizabeth
found herself in a most unusual state of mind on this morning and speaking of
her chambers simply reminded her of all that was to come. As their wedding
morning approached she felt herself unexpectedly anxious, in general but most
particularly about the wedding night. She could not speak of her concerns even
with her sister Jane, for when they once briefly discussed it Jane had only
said that it was so delightfully sweet to be kissed by the man one loves, she
could not imagine the wedding night any differently. Yet Elizabeth found
herself uneasy. The tender liberties she had allowed during their time of
betrothal had incrementally unsettled her composure, and now with the wedding
only two days away she found herself in anxiety. Darcy's tender attentions had
been delightful and pleasurable beyond her imaginings, but she could not deny
to herself that she was, if not fearful, certainly discomposed by his ardor.
Well contained as it was, when he embraced her she could feel such powerful
emotions emanating from him and the term 'violently in love' never seemed so
apt. He was all that was tender and gentlemanly and devoted, but she sensed his
taut emotions and bridled passion and found herself fearful of being unequal to
his demands when the time came. She had come to understand during their time of
courtship how very much more worldly and experienced he was, how much her life
was to change and at moments she felt an immaturity and innocence which was
disquieting and seemed to be aggravated by the nearness of her wedding morning.
She was highly displeased with herself for such a silly state of emotions.
They continued
on, each engaged in their own thoughts, until Darcy guided them into a
sheltered lane. Walking toward a tree he leaned his back against it and pulled
her into his embrace.
"Are you
still chilled? Let me warm you."
He did not
feel her own arms twine around his waist as she was wont to do when he would
hold her so, but instead saw as she clasped her hands together beneath her chin
and rested her head against his chest. She had been so quiet and seemingly
downhearted all morning and he knew not what to make of it, so different from
his own mood of thrilling expectation as it was. He had thought to find her the
same, so close to their wedding day.
"In two
days you shall be wife and I shall be your husband. I must confess, before I
knew you I should have never imagined that I could look forward to my marriage
with such joyful anticipation. I have witnessed so few truly happy
unions."
"Nor have
I," she remarked softly.
"But ours
shall be."
"Yes," she replied and he was gratified to feel her
snuggle her head closer against him.
"You are
very quiet this morning, Elizabeth."
"Am I?"
Darcy released
her from his embrace that he might see her face and took hold of her hands.
"Are you troubled?"
She looked at
him for but a moment and cherished his expression of tender concern. Looking
away and blushing softly, she replied: "A little, perhaps."
"Tell
me," he urged.
Elizabeth took
a deep breath and gathered her courage. "I am a little embarrassed to
say."
"I should
never imagine you uneasy in any circumstance."
She smiled at
his confidence. "I do not know that I should be pleased you believe me
wholly without shame, but I do possess some demureness."
"There
you go," he said playfully, "willfully misunderstanding me
anew." When she did not respond with even a smile, he continued more
seriously. "I did not intimate any such thing. I do, however, believe you
courageous. Tell me, whatever it is. We shall soon be husband and wife and I
would wish that between us there be no hindrance to conversation, that we trust
one another to speak of anything."
"Anything
at all?" inquired she, lifting her face to his. He was struck as though
for the first time with the expressiveness of her eyes; therein he could
perceive her uneasiness. Lifting his hand he softly caressed her cheek.
"For my
part, I would wish it so. And you?"
"Also."
"Then
tell me. Why are you so shy with me this morning? It is not your nature to be
such unless you are unsettled."
"We do
begin to understand one another."
"Most
happily we do. But I suspect there is much we have yet to learn, much that can
only be learnt when we live together as man and wife." At this allusion
she turned away. "Speak without reservation, my love."
His gentleness
eased Elizabeth's uncertainty. "We wed in but two days."
"And?"
"I fear I
may be ill prepared; I find there is much about being a wife I do not wholly
comprehend."
"I expect
we shall both strive to be respectful and devoted to one another. My hope is
certainly that we shall be always affectionate and unguarded as well. What more
is there to comprehend?"
Elizabeth
began to play with the buttons of his great wool coat, but would not look up to
him. "My concerns are more specific."
"Pray,
explain."
"I do not
know what you expect of me, as a wife," said she, still determinedly
playing with the buttons of his coat.
"Expect
of you?" Darcy laughed lightly, he found the concern so peculiar coming
from his confident and indomitable bride. "Why nothing at all apart from
your continuing to be the same charming and lovely lady I so deeply admire and
so ardently love."
Elizabeth
sighed in exasperation, thinking him uncharacteristically imperceptive this
morning. "That is very pretty, but you miss my meaning."
"Then
pray be explicit. We know I am not yet accomplished at reading your
thoughts."
Taking a deep breath,
she barely whispered out the words: "I do not know what you expect of me
on our wedding night."
"Oh, my
dearest Elizabeth," replied he with breathless tenderness. "This is
what has you so shy and unlike yourself?"
She slowly
nodded her headed in affirmation, but continued to stare at his chest. He
lifted her chin so she would look at him and the smile she beheld upon his face
was so gentle, so very adoring she felt all at once very foolish for such
maiden anxieties, but they persisted, foolish or no.
"I expect
only that we shall be joined as man and wife."
He saw that
she was not reassured - but it mattered not, now he knew the cause of her
disquiet. He was immensely pleased that she had revealed the source of her
shyness, for he in truth desired that between them there be none of the
barriers that the standards of propriety and civility often created. He hoped
between them would exist instead a sort of honorable, respectful
forthrightness, and he was confident she desired the same.
"I said to
you earlier that I wished we could speak of anything. May we speak then with
frankness, Elizabeth?"
More than a
little apprehensive about what such frankness would reveal, but encouraging of
the same, she replied that they could, that she would be grateful if they
would.
Darcy paused a
moment before continuing, for he never spoke of such things. He had always
found it dishonorable and pitiless when gentlemen discussed their amorous
conquests like it was nothing more than sport. Yet he exulted in the opportunity
that she was giving him to speak of such a delicate subject with forthrightness
and all it signified for their union. For if they could speak now with
frankness, surely between them there would be no barriers.
"I will
not disguise that my father ensured my education in all aspects of life."
He paused again, more than a little self-conscious, but persisted. "That
is, he ensured I should be in possession of all required knowledge."
Elizabeth felt
this conversation was most uncomfortable, but if they were to speak frankly,
she would not have her concerns silenced by awkwardness. "Practical
knowledge?"
It did not
escape her that he blushed profusely when he replied. "Excuse me? I am not
sure I understand exactly what you wish to imply."
"I believe
you do," was her quiet, emphatic response. "Proper young ladies are
not wholly ignorant and it is understood that, well, that..." she
stammered inelegantly and felt her courage fail.
"What is understood?
Elizabeth, please, we can hardly be anything but explicit now we have gone so
far!"
Bravely,
almost defiantly, she raised her eyes to his and spoke in an even tone.
"It is understood that young men of your set frequently take on mistresses
before they wed, some even after they wed."
"Plainly,
that is true," Darcy replied.
Elizabeth
lowered her face anew, a pang of disappointment piercing her heart as she heard
his affirmation. For all she felt she had no right for such a sentiment - she
understood that society would always excuse the transgressions of a wealthy
bachelor of eight and twenty and she should be grateful for his honesty -
still, the pang was real and sharp and she could not look him in the eyes,
afraid he would see her censure. But Darcy insisted and lifted her chin again
and waited for her to look at him directly. Only when her gaze was rightly and
fully engaged with his own did he continue.
"Elizabeth, I am not one of those young men. Perhaps I
ought to be offended that you think I would be, but all that matters in truth
is that you understand that while I am perhaps not an innocent, my love, be
assured that I go to our marriage bed as virtuous as you."
He saw her
face brighten and a smile creep from her lips to her eyes.
"Truly?"
"Truly.
We shall teach one another." He lifted his hands to caress her cheeks, red
and blooming from the chilly air and her blushing happiness, and as he took her
face within his hands he thought hers the most pleasing countenance he had ever
beheld. With a broad, impish smile he continued, "I suspect we shall have
no difficulties in this regard, we need only be tender and forthright and we
shall be quite able to love one another as only a husband and wife ought."
"I am
very silly," she laughed as he clasped her to him.
"No. You
are very lovely."
He kissed her
with such a beguiling mixture of tenderness and craving that all her misgivings
dissipated in the wake of such unsullied affections. That for all his
worldliness and sophistication he should come to their marriage as chaste, as
vulnerable as she made her feel inexpressibly contented and she felt liberated
to love him without shame or reserve. She had never felt so close to him as at
this moment. Winding her arms around his neck she snuggled her head beneath his
chin.
"William,
I believe I shall very much like learning to be your wife."
"I am
very happy for that, for I know that I shall very much like learning to be your
husband," replied he as he lifted her face to his own and kissed her once
more.
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When Darcy had
told his bride, three mornings before, as she was so unexpectedly beset with
maiden anxieties, that he expected nothing of their wedding night but that they
be joined as husband and wife it had been as much a statement of reassurance as
it had been a testament to his own inexperience, as he later more explicitly
disclosed. Indeed, he could have never imagined on that crisp autumn morning
how the night would unfold, so that when Darcy opened his eyes on the first
morning of his married life and looked across at an empty bed, the
disappointment that promptly invaded his heart was acute.
She was not in
his bed, but he would not fault her for rising in the night and retiring to her
own. Nevertheless he would not deny to himself his regret at her choice for he
would have wished it differently; he was, truthfully, surprised that she would
have retreated to her own chambers. The consummation of their marriage had been
so much more than he could have ever anticipated-and certainly far removed from
the tales he had sometimes heard while at university that veered from the lewd
and bawdy to the cold and clinical. In one another's embrace they had known
neither extreme. No, their union had been blissfully sweet, marvelously tender,
shy and yet uninhibited, patient and delicate; and oh, such an astonishing
sense of closeness as he had surely never experienced. He placed his hand on
the cool linen of the pillow where her head had lain and lamented her absence
and her decision keenly, so that at first the sensation of coldness upon him
seemed only a reflection of his heart's selfish discontent, but he soon
realized it was the room's cool morning air against his bare shoulders and he
peevishly thought she could have at least drawn shut the bed curtains when she
abandoned his side. Softly rolling over to do just so, he caught his breath and
a warm, adoring expression diffused across his countenance.
She had not
abandoned him at all but stood at the window looking out at the morning. She
was perfectly motionless and he made not a sound so as to avoid disturbing her
occupation that in turn he might indulge in the sight of her while she believed
him still sleeping. Yet he did not long exercise such indulgence, for what he
most desired was to see her face, to see the expression of her beautiful eyes
on this of all mornings, now they had given themselves one to the other.
"Elizabeth," came his voice, softly, half in
question, half in verification.
She turned to
him, and neither husband nor wife smiled, instead, for a long moment they gazed
at each other in silence, a gaze filled with all the tenderness of new
understanding. Darcy's heart swelled in his breast as he beheld his wife
standing across the room and looking at him with such sweet affection. He had
told her once that he could not know when he had begun to love her, but at this
moment he felt he was loving her as if for the first time, seeing her for the
first time, and he had never in his life felt such profound, exhilarating and
unfettered joy.
"Elizabeth," he said again after a time, breaking
the gentle silence between them. "What do you there by the window where it
is cold?"
She turned her
head back toward the window. "I am watching the day break. I would often
awaken at Longbourn and go to my window to do the same. Daybreak over a city is
altogether different," she said as she returned her gaze to his, but
making no movement toward him.
"When we
are at Pemberley, you shall be able to watch it break over the peaks."
"Is it
very beautiful?"
She stood still and calm, her hands folded neatly before
her, her head ever so slightly tilted and a small, incipient smile upon her
lips. Darcy had seen her in just such a posture countless times and had never
quite deciphered the allusions that seemed to be held within her beguiling
autonomous manner. That she should be standing in his bedchamber with that
selfsame bearing--with her lush, thick hair slightly tousled from sleep as it
fell over her shoulder until it lay over her bosom, dressed in no more than a
robe - excited him and thrilled him in a manner heretofore unimaginable to his
finely regulated person. Oh, he found her handsome, to be sure, and the
discovery the prior evening of just how remarkably pleasing was her lithesome
and nimble figure to his sight and touch when unbound had been powerful, no
doubt. Yet, it was this in her, this posture, this manner which had bewitched
him, and it was her spirit that transfixed him. He felt himself, body and soul,
stir with passionate admiration.
His eyes had been roaming freely and slowly up the length
of her figure, from the tiny little bare toes that stuck out from beneath the
robe, up her slim, elegant frame until they came to rest upon her beloved face.
Her smile had grown and one eyebrow arched impertinently. She was awaiting a
reply.
"Yes, it is very beautiful," he at last replied.
His tone was rich with craving and he could not know the
picture he made to his bride. For all this time he had remained reposed on his
side as he gazed in wonderment upon his wife. His hair seemed all the darker
against the crisp white linens and the shadow upon his chin and jaw seemed a
foil expressly designed to accentuate his attractive features. His broad
shoulders - which she had found so appealing upon discovery--escaped the
confines of the thick, burgundy coverlet. And upon his handsome, noble mien was
the most adoring of expressions. She was altogether captivated.
A
mellow intimate stillness came over them again, and Elizabeth did not move.
Waiting patiently and without awkwardness until he lifted his arm and stretched
his hand out toward her. "Will you not return to your husband's
side?"
As she placed her hand in his he grasped it tightly and
their mutual gratification at this renewed touch was evident in the warm glow
of their countenances. He pulled her toward him until she came to sit upon the
bed at his side. He remained recumbent as he looked into her beautiful eyes that
had entranced him from nearly the first-they were luminous and brimming with
uninhibited, pure love for him and he could not look away from such splendor
for even a moment. His long, penetrating gaze disconcerted her at last, and she
looked down to their joined hands with a becoming blush.
"So this is happiness," remarked he into their
delicate silence.
"You have not been happy then?"
"I have not been unhappy, but..." and then he
stopped, abruptly.
Elizabeth looked at her husband and smiled, for he was
blushing, although she could not say why. She lifted her hand to his face and
caressed his check, enjoying the roughness of his stubble against her delicate
fingertips.
"You most certainly cannot leave your thoughts only
half expressed," said she.
"I cannot?"
"Not at all. Had we not agreed but two days ago that
between us there shall be no reservation? Has it not served us admirably well
already?"
"Admirably!" he replied with a chuckle, for when
a certain awkwardness had overcome them on the prior evening they had found in
their promised forthrightness a ready escape from the initial discomfiture of
the night's promised intimacy, so that the journey from standing ill at ease as
they faced one another in her rooms to glorious consummation in his bed had
been all that is natural and good.
Darcy raised himself at last from his recumbent state and
gathered his wife into his arms. "I have not been unhappy. But this,
Elizabeth, this sweet communion seems to me apart from anything that has come before
and anything that might come after."
"Indeed," whispered she in response as their
mouths came together in delicious reunion.
She lowered her head and nestled it into his neck - she
inhaled his scent and felt a delightful heady elation - and smiled. He cradled
her in his arms and she felt a previously unfamiliar sense of protection. She
recalled how disconcerted she had become before they wed about the intimacies
they would share; even after he had calmed her she had not anticipated such a
joyful, stirring nearness. He had called it a sweet communion - yes, indeed it
was - the sweetest possible and she felt almost triumphant to know that their
children would not be born of some reluctant and unpleasant dutiful union as
young ladies were often taught to expect, no, not at all, theirs would be born
of this sweet communion.
Her head still nestled against him and his own resting
softly atop hers, Elizabeth lifted her hand and almost imperceptibly grazed the
bare skin on his chest with her fingertips, feeling it rise beneath her as her
husband took in a deep and satisfied breath. The delicate, surprisingly
communicative silence was heartening in its ease, and yet Elizabeth was
compelled to speak, but knew not words which could express her sentiments rightly.
She lifted her head and looked into her husband's face, so close to her own, so
handsome, so diffused with open admiration. Placing her hand against his cheek,
she smiled and whispered out: "So this is happiness," repeating his
earlier avowal.
"So it would seem."
"I told you I thought I should like learning to be
your wife. Yet I confess, I did not anticipate such delight." She blushed
at her admission, but held her gaze steady within his own.
"Oh, my precious wife," he murmured, bringing her
deep into the warmth of their bed.
And indeed both Darcy and Elizabeth felt, on this first
morning of their matrimony, this is happiness.
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