To Conquer Mr. Darcy

by Abigail Reynolds

  She would not have thought it possible, but his touch aroused new desires in her. As his hand continued to caress her, finally coming to rest cupped possessively around her breast, the ache in her loins began anew. She communicated her need to him by deepening the kisses they shared, and the mere sight of the look of desire in her eyes stimulated a similar reaction in him.

  As his arousal became evident to her, she tried to bring him to her, seeking the release he had given her earlier, but was held back by the touch of his hand. “Not so quickly this time, my love; allow me to enjoy taking you there slowly,” he said, a warm, intent look in his eyes as he shifted her to lie back on the bed. Previously he had been focused on assuring her cooperation; now he wanted to take pleasure in watching her respond to him. Raising himself on one arm, he kissed her slowly, tantalizingly exploring her mouth until he felt her gripping at his shoulders. Running his fingers unhurriedly down her neck, he held her eyes with his as he began to stroke her breast in gentle circles, gradually moving inward until his fingers lightly caressed her nipple. She gasped, and a smile of satisfaction grew on Darcy’s face as he repeated the action again and again, watching her desire grow. He kissed her again, more demandingly this time, and she thrust her fingers into his hair and held him to her as she sought to sate herself with his mouth. She released him only when his hand wandered lower to stroke her inner thighs, leaving her hot with desire.

  But she had been passive long enough; she began to run her hands down his chest, glorying in the feeling of his skin beneath her fingertips. “Show me how to please you,” she whispered to him.

  He laughed softly. “If you please me any more, my love, I may not survive the experience!” he said, but he guided her hand downward. His eyes closed as she stroked him, and he hardened even further in her hand as she explored the ways to give him pleasure. His moans gratified her as she saw that she could indeed create in him those feelings that he did in her, and she was disappointed when he removed her hand.

  “Love, you do not know what you do to me!” he exclaimed. His resolution to set a leisurely pace had vanished, but he took time to caress her in her most sensitive spot slowly, and then more quickly, until he could see her approaching the pinnacle. He entered her then, and teased them both with slow strokes, resisting her unspoken demands for more, but as her sweet whimpers of pleasure increased, he could hold back no longer, and sought his own oblivion as the waves of satisfaction overtook her.

  As Elizabeth gradually returned to her senses, she could think of nothing but her love for him. His lovemaking was so far from her expectations of the duties of the marriage bed that she did not know how to comprehend it, but she had never before felt so close to another person. All of her fear left far behind, she whispered to him as he lay sated in her arms. “I love you so, William.”

  His arms tightened convulsively around her at the words he had so longed to hear from her. “Elizabeth, my own Elizabeth,” he murmured, his heart full of a happiness that could not be spoken, just as the bliss she had given his body was beyond any description. “You are so much more than I deserve. I only wish I had the words to tell you what you mean to me.”

  They remained entangled together, whispering endearments to one another. Elizabeth was in such a perfect state of contentment that she felt as if she were floating; Darcy, although at least as elated as she, could not keep his mind from inevitably turning to the practicalities of the matter. “Dearest, I believe we had best not wait six more weeks to marry.”

  “It might be difficult to do it sooner,” she replied vaguely.

  “Yes, but there could be consequences from tonight, and, to be completely honest, I cannot imagine that I could stay out of your bed for that long after what we have shared tonight.”

  “Mmmm. What would you propose, then?”

  “We could marry here, in the next few days. I could ride to Matlock tomorrow to obtain a license. Or, if it is important to you to marry from home, we could plan to have the ceremony just after you return to Longbourn in, what, three weeks’ time.”

  “That would seem a long time,” she said drowsily, the long sleepless night beginning to catch up to her.

  He smiled. “I agree, and I do not know how I could possibly let you leave with your aunt and uncle when your place is here with me.”

  She nestled in even closer to him. “Whatever you wish, William. You may decide.”

  He paused, not knowing what to think of this sudden submissiveness, but he was willing to take advantage of it. “Then I will speak to your uncle in the morning, and we will marry as soon as we may.”

  She smiled affectionately at him. “Very well,” she said softly. Closing her eyes, she relaxed into his embrace.

  He watched her with pleasure, thinking of how many of his dreams had been fulfilled tonight, and how he would not trade this night for anything in the world. Soon he noted that her breathing had slowed, and a wave of tenderness rushed over him when he realized that she had fallen asleep in his arms. It was far too pleasant an experience to end quickly, although he would have to wake her soon in order to return her safely to her own room before anyone could discover them.

  The next thing he knew he was being roused from a sound sleep by a knocking at the door. Momentarily he was disoriented, wondering why Wilkins did not come in to wake him as usual. Awareness of the warmth of Elizabeth’s body against his brought memories came flooding back, and panic struck at the idea of her being found in his room. Leaping out of bed, he pulled the curtains around the bed to disguise her presence. “I am coming!” he called, seizing his dressing gown and tying it around himself. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped through to his sitting room, where he found a flustered looking Wilkins.

  “Sir, I am sorry to disturb you, but there is a problem. There is a fire at the Wheelers’ cottage; there is some fear of it spreading, and Mr. Dawson is asking for you.”

  Darcy swore under his breath, raking his hand through his hair as he tried to think. “Very well, I shall come as soon as I am dressed. Are they saddling a horse for me?”

  “Yes, sir,” he said, not meeting Darcy’s eyes.

  Darcy had never seen his valet look this ill at ease before, and suddenly realized Wilkins must have come into his bedroom as was his custom, and discovered Elizabeth’s presence, hence his retreat to the sitting room. Well, there was nothing to be done for it now. “Wait here,” he instructed tersely.

  Turning back into his bedroom and closing the door behind him, he went over to the bed and sat down. Elizabeth’s eyes were open wide, whether in distress or surprise he could not tell. He leaned over to kiss her. “I must leave, my love. There is an emergency, a fire on the estate, and I must go at once. I am so very sorry to leave you right now; I know that the timing could not be worse.”

  Feeling suddenly shy as she realized her state of undress, she said, “Of course, I understand.”

  Recognizing her embarrassment, he took her nightgown and robe from where they had fallen and handed them to her. “I will return in a minute,” he said, heading for his dressing room. He emerged shortly wearing a workman-like outfit of shirt and trousers. She was already out of bed, as decent as she could make herself, and he took her into his arms. “I am so very sorry to leave you like this, Elizabeth. My man Wilkins is without, and I will ask him to assist you in returning to your room. He already knows you are here, and he is the soul of discretion.” Seeing her blush furiously, he added, “Not to worry, he approves of you. Please remember that I love you more than life itself.” He stole one last kiss.

  “Please be careful.” She touched his cheek.

  “I will,” he replied, and departed.

  Elizabeth kept on a brave face until he was out of the room, and then sank back onto the bed, her head in her hands. Her sangfroid of the previous night had completely evaporated, and shock, horror, and embarrassment had taken its place. What had she done? She felt ashamed and ill at the thought of what had occurred. How could she
have allowed this to happen? How could she step out of that door and face Darcy’s manservant, knowing that he knew what had transpired that night? She had never been so mortified in her life. A flush of humiliation filled her, but recognizing that she needed to be out of his bedroom as soon as possible, before anyone else discovered her, she resolutely went to the door and opened it.

  The ever-efficient Wilkins stood outside, his eyes firmly averted. “Miss Bennet, I took the liberty of fetching some items from your room. I cannot claim any expertise in the matter of ladies’ dress, but I hope this is satisfactory. If there is anything else you require, please do not hesitate to ask.” He handed her a stack of items that included a dress, petticoats, shoes, stockings, and a hairbrush.

  “Thank you, Wilkins,” she said shakily. Retreating into the chamber, she dressed herself as well as she could. She looped her hair into a simple knot at the back, thinking with the ghost of an amused smile that Wilkins would never succeed as a lady’s maid unless he remembered hairpins.

  Darcy had not been completely correct in stating that Wilkins approved of Elizabeth, although he no doubt believed it himself. Wilkins in fact had no opinion of her. He had little direct contact with Miss Bennet up until this time, though he knew who she was, of course, and had carefully noted all available information about her. He was a man of powerful loyalty and deep admiration for his employer, and he saw his job as one of simplifying and improving Mr. Darcy’s life. He had strong opinions on the clothes Mr. Darcy wore, the rooms Mr. Darcy stayed in, and the food Mr. Darcy ate. He withheld judgment on his master’s friends and activities; if they made Mr. Darcy happy, Wilkins approved, if not, he did not. He did not see a need to have an opinion on the air Mr. Darcy breathed, for it was simply a necessity, and having observed his master closely during the last year in Hertfordshire, London, and Kent, he had come to the conclusion that this was the category in which Miss Elizabeth Bennet belonged. Mr. Darcy was happy when he was with her, and deeply unhappy when he was not, so there was no need for Wilkins to develop an opinion on her. She was simply necessary.

  He was, however, pleased to see that she could conduct herself with appropriate dignity in the embarrassing situation in which she found herself, and he even went so far as to have a few unkind thoughts for Mr. Darcy regarding the position in which he had put her. When she emerged from Darcy’s room, he asked her to wait in the sitting room until he indicated to her that the hallway was clear, and when he was finally able to usher her out safely, she gave him an amused, if somewhat embarrassed, smile with her thanks. Having successfully negotiated that task, his next goal was to find fresh linens for the beds, so that he could strip off the current sheets before the arrival of the housemaids, lest any gossip follow Mr. Darcy. He shook his head over the whole matter.

  Elizabeth returned to her room only long enough to correct the details of her dress and to put up her hair. The last thing that she wanted at the moment was to sit alone with her thoughts, and sleep would be a hopeless proposition, and so she went downstairs even though it was far too early for breakfast. Although servants were busy throughout the house, none of the family were yet awake, so she elected for a brisk walk through the gardens to distract herself. Unfortunately, the slight soreness between her legs proved a constant reminder of the events of the night, as were the words that insisted on echoing in her mind, no matter how much she tried to stop them—I am his mistress. The words would not listen to any of her arguments that they were engaged, that this made no difference in the long term, that no one need know. She brooded over how they were to explain to her aunt and uncle why they wished to marry so quickly, with none of her family present, and she discovered no convincing answers.

  Eight

  At breakfast, Mr. Gardiner informed her that Darcy would be unable to join them on their trip to Haddon Hall that day, as some urgent estate business had arisen. Elizabeth did her best to appear surprised and disappointed by this intelligence, and thought she had been fairly convincing. As the day progressed, however, it became apparent that Mrs. Gardiner at least had noticed she was somewhat out of spirits, asking several times if anything was troubling her, questions that her niece attempted to avoid by making reference to a sleepless night. Meanwhile, Elizabeth was busy trying to answer her own uncomfortable questions, which related to how this had come to pass, and her feelings about her premature loss of virtue. His mistress. That she was embarrassed and discomfited was obvious, and that she felt shame over her inability to refuse him was true as well, but she tried to remind herself that they had merely advanced the date of the event, and wondered why it should make such a difference to her. The truth, she finally recognized, was that she missed Darcy terribly. If she could only have been with him and had his reassurance, her distress would be significantly lessened.

  On their return to Pemberley, she was exceedingly disappointed to find that he was still away from the house, and the servants seemed to have no news of him, apart from saying that he was expected to return in time for dinner. She eventually attempted to settle with a book, but found herself glancing out the window every few minutes to watch for his return. At one point, she saw two workmen approaching across the grassy hill, but the next time she looked out, she realized that one of them was Darcy himself, his shirt torn and filthy, his face streaked with soot, and with a companion who looked no better than he. She flushed as thoughts of the previous night filled her mind. As they came closer, she recognized the second man as his steward, and she watched in shocked fascination as Darcy clapped him on the back before walking off to the house.

  She walked rapidly toward the front hall, and was half-way down the long staircase when she spotted Darcy being accosted by one of the footmen. “Mr. Darcy, sir, begging your pardon, but I wondered if you had any news. Mrs. Wheeler’s sister Ann works in the kitchen, and we have all been worrying, sir.”

  “I assume you have already heard about the children?” Darcy asked somberly. At the footman’s nod, he added, “Give me a quarter hour to make myself decent and I shall come to the kitchens myself to tell them what I know.”

  “Thank you, sir. They will appreciate it.”

  Darcy paused a moment, and then said, “On second thought, perhaps I should go there immediately.” Part way across the hall Darcy spied Elizabeth on the steps. Their eyes met and held for a minute, and the warmth in his went a long way toward soothing Elizabeth’s nerves, as she saw his lips shape the word ‘later.’ The relief that she felt, just knowing that he was in the house, was both great and seemingly inexplicable.

  When she returned downstairs for dinner, she found the Gardiners and Georgiana, who was feeling somewhat better, already present. Darcy joined them a little later than was his wont, restored to his usual well turned-out self, his hair still damp. Apart from lines of fatigue around his eyes, he looked no different from usual. As he sat on the loveseat next to Elizabeth, he leaned over to whisper in her ear, “I adore you.” She looked at him with gratitude and a blush, feeling a surprising sensation of pleasurable completeness at his presence. Returning his attention to the party at large, he asked after their travels, and seemed interested in hearing of the splendors of the rose gardens of Haddon Hall. When Mr. Gardiner asked about his day, he replied only that he was attending to some business with his tenants.

  He was as attentive to her as was possible in company, giving her warm glances and addressing questions to her whenever possible, but eventually it occurred to her that all was not well. He seemed on edge and uncomfortable. She wondered and worried as to the cause; whether it could be the events of the day, or those of the previous night, and if so, what he was thinking. Her stomach churned anxiously. She wished they could be alone so that she could ask him, and seek his reassurance.

  She found herself watching him carefully, almost obsessively, and saw that he seemed to wince occasionally, and, just before they were to go in to dinner, she observed that he was holding his glass in a peculiarly stiff manner. Concerned, she waited until th
e others were distracted, and reached over and took his hand. To her surprise, he tried to pull it away. She felt a sharp pang of rejection before recognizing that he was not avoiding her, but attempting to prevent her from seeing his hand, and her concern for him rose. Eyeing him suspiciously, she said quietly, “I would like to see your hand, Mr. Darcy.”

  “Miss Bennet, it is nothing to worry yourself over, merely a scrape,” he responded rather shortly.

  “Mr. Darcy,” she said, her tone a warning. Their eyes locked in a brief battle, then Darcy, with an exasperated roll of his eyes, turned his hands so that she could see them. She bit her lip to stifle a gasp when she saw the burns, blisters, and scrapes that scored much of his palms and the inside surfaces of his fingers. After a first moment of shock, she reassured herself that they did not look deep, though certain to be very painful, and asked, “Have you put anything on them?”

  “No need,” he said in a voice that declared the subject closed.

  “I beg to differ,” she said. “Those require care. Excuse me, sir, I shall return shortly.” She stood and exited before he could protest, as she was certain he would, then paused out in the hall, realizing that she had no idea where to locate the items she needed at Pemberley without creating more commotion than Darcy would wish. Finally she asked a servant to help her locate Mrs. Reynolds.

  The housekeeper seemed surprised to see her. “How may I help you, Miss Bennet?”

  “Mrs. Reynolds, I am looking for some oil of lavender, or perhaps oil of chamomile. Would you have something along those lines that I might use?”