Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy

by Abigail Reynolds

  The movement of his fingers did not stop, but he said against her mouth, "If this is not pleasing to you, tell me."

  She forced her mind to work again, no mean feat when her body was trembling with the cadenced sensation he was provoking in her. "No, sir, I am merely more embarrassed than I have ever been before."

  She felt rather than saw his smile as he said, "Then let us see how much further I can embarrass you." He lowered his mouth to her breast.

  How could he do this, taking control of her own body away from her? She had not thought, when he spoke of pleasure for her, that he meant such wantonness nor that she had the capacity to feel such a need.

  He must have felt the increased stiffness in her, for he stopped and brushed her face with kisses. "Too embarrassed?"

  "I fear so." She closed her eyes tightly, not wishing to see disapproval on his face.

  Instead, she heard the warmth of his voice. "Elizabeth, stop thinking. Just feel."

  Perhaps he did not realise how out of control she felt. "You wish me to be a complete wanton?"

  "Yes." There was a world of earnestness in his tone. "Trust me. Let me show you how this is meant to be."

  Could she so let go of everything she had been taught? But his very nearness convinced her. Even if she was unsure, she would try because he wished it. As his fingers began to move again, bringing those impossible bursts of pleasure again, she abandoned herself to sensation.

  Something seemed to take possession of her then, something that made her moan and writhe in response to his touch. It was like a delirium but of such intensity she could only lose herself within it. It built and built within her until her senses were in such riot she hardly knew herself, and then, with an abruptness that startled her, her body was overtaken by a consuming fire which erupted from his fingers and spread through her every extremity, leaving her shaking and crying out.

  Then it was gone, leaving a pleasant lethargy in its wake and muscles which would not quite obey her. She could not comprehend it.

  Darcy seemed unsurprised by what had occurred, a good sign, she supposed, that he did not disapprove. But he was still watching her intently. "Embarrassed?"

  "Utterly mortified." She could laugh at herself a little now, at her own lack of understanding of herself.

  "Well, I am delighted." There was such rich meaning in his voice that she could not doubt him. "Pleased beyond measure, and I shall show you just how pleased that is."

  She opened her arms and her body to him then, feeling a certain relief at returning to ground familiar to her. But then he was within her, filling her, and bringing a fulfilment so unlike what she had experienced in the past when he possessed her that she could barely breathe. It was as if she was becoming a part of him, and he of her. She longed for more, tilting her hips to receive him better, and was rewarded when he moaned with pleasure. His hand reached down to grasp her leg, pulling it around his. As she obeyed his urging, embracing his legs with hers, he thrust into her once more, this time reaching depths she had not known she possessed. A cry burst from her lips as a sharp shock of pleasure stabbed through her, and she heard him murmur her name beside her ear, repeating it again and again as if it were a prayer.

  The warmth of his body overwhelmed her, the ecstatic feeling of his skin against her own, the salty taste of his skin when she pressed her lips to his shoulder, seeking some way to express the impossible intimacy she felt. She could feel his urgency growing, that point where his needs overtook his careful self-control, but this time she felt her own control slipping as well, the coiled heat building in her once again. Apparently, he could sense it as well because his voice tightened as he said, "Yes. Yes, Elizabeth, yes."

  Surely what happened earlier could not occur a second time, but she could tell this time it was coming, that uncontrollable surge of pleasure that made her arch back and cry out convul sively. As she clung helplessly to him, her body throbbing, he continued, ever faster and harder, bringing with him each time an echo of that pleasure within her until she felt faint. She whispered his name as he stiffened and a deep groan escaped his lips. Then it was over, and his body lay draped over hers.

  Tears forming in her eyes, Elizabeth stroked his upturned cheek lightly with her fingertips then let her hand return to holding him close, feeling his chest expand and contract as his breathing slowed once more. For this moment, at least, he was hers alone.

  Chapter 17

  USUALLY, ELIZABETH WOKE TO early morning light, but the sun was well into the sky when she opened her eyes to find her husband's warm body beside hers and his arm thrown over her unclothed flesh. Instant recollection brought heat to her cheeks. She remembered her attempt the previous night to return to her room when he fell asleep, only to have him pull her closely against him and say in a drowsy voice, "Do not go." Even half-asleep, he made it more an instruction than a request, but she was beginning to understand that it would always be so, that his questions were more likely to be framed as commands. The master of Pemberley indeed.

  Still, it was one thing to allow Darcy to see her unclothed form by candlelight and quite another to face the same prospect in full daylight. The thought sent her scrambling out of bed to slip into her nightdress. She found his nightshirt crumpled next to it on the floor then turned to discover her husband's eyes on her.

  Darcy raised himself on his elbow. "What are you doing, Elizabeth?"

  "I am hiding the evidence before poor Ferguson arrives." She smiled at him as she folded his nightshirt.

  "Poor Ferguson indeed. Come back to bed, wife. I wish to embarrass you again."

  "Again?" The word slipped from her lips before she realised what she was saying.

  She could see him withdrawing behind his eyes. "Only if you wish it, of course," he said formally.

  She did not wish to lose the ground they had gained, so she sat on the bed and boldly touched his cheek with her fingertips. "That is not what I meant. You merely took me by surprise."

  His fingers were already busy untying the nightdress she had just fastened. "Do I shock you?"

  She felt a flush travel down her body as he removed her shift. "Perhaps, but it does not follow that the shock must be unwelcome."

  He spread kisses across her shoulder, sending tingling sensa tions deep within her. "Do you know, Elizabeth, I think I could learn to enjoy shocking you."

  Laughter bubbled to her lips. "But it is so simple. There is hardly any sport in it, you must admit."

  "Oh, no, there is great sport indeed." He moved his hand to show her exactly what he meant.

  ***

  Afterwards, he rested his hand on her waist, looking at it intently.

  Uncomfortable with his eyes on her, Elizabeth said, "If you are hoping to find something, there is as yet nothing to discover."

  "Yet you think…"

  That stray lock of hair was dangling over his forehead again. She brushed it back gently with her fingertips; then, recalling the times she had wanted to make this small gesture but had feared his rejec tion, she impulsively kissed him. He looked at her with surprise.

  "It is too early to know for certain, but I have reason to think it may be the case."

  He began to trace small circles over her stomach. "But you are… well?"

  "I am well." She wished she understood him better. His sudden terseness seemed to cover something, but whether it was pleasure or not she could not tell. Still, she did not want him to be disappointed if it proved a false alarm. "I will not know until it quickens, if it does. Until then, I can but guess."

  The corners of his mouth turned down. "When will that be?"

  She was tempted to laugh but sensed this was not the moment to tease. "I cannot predict it, I fear."

  "I do not like to wait." He sounded almost petulant.

  Since there was no other answer she could give apart from the one which clearly displeased him, Elizabeth decided to distract him from the issue. Gathering her courage, she ran her hand provocatively down his chest and s
cattered light kisses across his chest and neck, as he had done to her so effectively earlier. When her lips reached his ear, she whispered, "Some things may prove worth the wait."

  Darcy tugged her closer to him, his arm encircling her, but before he could kiss her, a knock came at the door. It was followed by the sound of Ferguson clearing his throat. "Mr. Darcy, Lucy tells me that Mrs. Darcy's breakfast is ready for her in your sitting room."

  Elizabeth hid a smile. Clearly even her shocking presence in the master's room could not stop Lucy on her appointed mission. "Thank you, Ferguson," she said, hoping she sounded as confident as the mistress of Pemberley ought.

  She would have arisen then, but Darcy seemed disinclined to remove the arm that was holding her to him, so she rested her head on the comfortable solidity of his shoulder, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest. If he found nothing embar rassing about their situation, she would try to take her cues from him.

  "Do you prefer to breakfast in your room as a rule?" he asked.

  "No, but I have done so the past few weeks, since Lucy feels it her duty to ensure that I eat well each morning."

  "The decision should be yours, not Lucy's." He seemed to miss the point of her teasing.

  She kissed the corner of his jaw, enjoying the roughness of the slight stubble on it. "I know, but in truth, she is right. My strength is better if I eat something before facing the perils of my toilette."

  He released his hold on her. "Then I must not keep you from it."

  She wondered if she should invite him to join her or if he would view that as an imposition. Perhaps a compromise posi tion would be safest. "No doubt there is enough tea for two, if you would like a cup as well."

  "Perhaps so." But he did not move from his position on the bed as she sat up and found her shift once more.

  She quickly replaited her hair, aware that his eyes were following her. If only she could read his mood better! She could not tell whether he felt any of the closeness she did, but she could hope for it. She stood, casting him a smile over her shoulder. "I will ask Lucy to bring another cup then."

  He turned back the bedcovers. Elizabeth automatically averted her eyes until he had shrugged into his green silk robe. He seemed to feel none of the discomfort she did. It would take time to accustom herself to her husband's ideas of intimacy.

  Darcy followed Elizabeth into the sitting room, where Lucy had laid out Elizabeth's breakfast on the small table in front of the fire. Elizabeth was pleased to notice there were two cups.

  Lucy looked questioningly at Elizabeth as she seated herself and began to pour out the tea. "No need to worry, Lucy; I have already informed Mr. Darcy about my possible condition."

  Lucy's shoulders straightened. "Very well, madam."

  Elizabeth handed Darcy a cup of tea. "Lucy has been a veritable tyrant in your absence, constantly insisting that I eat and rest. I suspect her of keeping a whip in the dressing room in case I misbehave."

  Lucy's mouth dropped open in shock. Darcy laughed. "Well done, Lucy. I am glad to know my wife has been in capable hands."

  Barely managing to regain her aplomb, Lucy dropped a quick curtsey. "Thank you, sir," she whispered, looking as if she wished to flee the room.

  Elizabeth took a sip of her tea. "Lucy even threatened to report me to Mrs. Reynolds if I did not eat."

  "Now that is a fearsome threat if you have ever seen Mrs. Reynolds in anger. It was a matter of great relief to me when I grew too tall for her to turn me over her knee."

  Elizabeth laughed at the idea of such a sight. "Surely you were never disobedient, Mr. Darcy," she said archly.

  He smiled slowly at her, a private smile, it seemed. "On the contrary, I am sure Lucy could tell you stories she has heard."

  "Stop tormenting poor Lucy." Elizabeth placed a slice of bread on her plate. "Lucy, I will ring for you later, once I have convinced Mr. Darcy to torment Ferguson in your place."

  "And richly he deserves it," muttered Darcy.

  "What has Ferguson done?" Elizabeth was amused by his petulant look appearing once again. Lucy stole the opportunity to disappear through the door.

  "Nothing of importance, though he is no doubt training Lucy in the fine art of subtle insubordination."

  "There was nothing subtle about Lucy's insubordination. She stood over me and glared until I ate."

  He frowned. "Why did you need to be convinced to eat?"

  Elizabeth busied her hands spreading the jam on her bread. She could not tell him it was because she was afraid she had lost him, not yet at least. Fortunately, there was an easy excuse to hand. "I believe it is not uncommon for ladies in a delicate condi tion to find food unappetizing for a time. Fortunately, it seems to be improving now. Lucy barely needs to insist any longer."

  "Are you certain? Perhaps I should send for a doctor. I do not wish to take risks with your health."

  His look of concern, with that lock of hair drifting again over his forehead, was endearing. His worry, no doubt, was more for his potential heir than for her, but still it warmed her more than tea ever could. She said, "I do not believe there is any need for a doctor, and I am reluctant to draw attention to the possibility before I am certain of the outcome."

  A shadow crossed his face, but he touched her shoulder gently as he said, "I hope you will inform me if it worsens again. If there is anything that might provide you with relief, you have only to ask." He kissed her cheek lightly before departing through the adjoining door, leaving Elizabeth alone once more.

  ***

  By early afternoon, the skies had clouded over and a brief shower had left raindrops sliding down the windowpanes. Inside the house, it was dark enough that Elizabeth found it difficult to read until she lit a lamp, and even then her mind would not remain on her book but instead kept returning to the previous night. She wondered whether it was on her husband's mind as well. He had not made an appearance since leaving her earlier that morning, and she found herself longing for his company. But did he long for hers, or view it as an inconvenience in the light of day?

  A maid stepped into the sitting room and dropped a curtsey. "Mr. Bingley is here, madam."

  "Mr. Bingley?" Elizabeth exclaimed. Setting aside her book, she rose to her feet and straightened her skirt. What was Mr. Bingley doing at Pemberley? Darcy had said nothing of a visit, but she remembered the false conclusion she had reached when Georgiana first arrived at Pemberley. This time she would make no assumptions.

  Bingley had changed little since she had seen him last, nearly a year earlier. So much had happened since the night of the Netherfield ball! She had been just a girl then, a stranger to love and tragedy, and happy to believe the lies spoken by a man with handsome manners. It was oddly unsettling to see someone from that former life.

  "Welcome to Pemberley, Mr. Bingley," she said.

  He bowed. "Thank you, Miss Eliz… pardon me, Mrs. Darcy."

  She smiled at his error. "Please, be seated. Have you trav elled far?"

  "From Leicester today, but I left Netherfield two days ago."

  "Netherfield?" Elizabeth asked faintly. Had he returned to Meryton, then? Her thoughts immediately flew to Jane; Mr. Bingley must have seen something of her family if he was at Netherfield. Her mother would make certain of that. Suddenly, she missed the gentle green slopes of Hertfordshire. Because of Lydia's shame, she would never again see the familiar rooms of Longbourn, share secrets with Jane, or walk the shaded lanes she had loved. But there was nothing to be done for it. Her fingernails dug into her palm, but she would not let her pain show. She was Darcy's wife and the mistress of Pemberley, and she would not disgrace either of those titles. "I hope your journey was an easy one."

  Darcy's tall form filled the doorframe. "Bingley! This is an unexpected pleasure." He took a seat next to Elizabeth and favoured her with a warm smile.

  Bingley's mouth tightened. "I am en route to Scarborough, and there is a matter I wished to discuss with you."

  "Of course. You will stay the night at
least, I hope?" Darcy's smile had faded.

  Elizabeth looked from Bingley's uncharacteristically serious mien to her husband's furrowed brow. Had they quarrelled? Darcy had not mentioned anything of the sort, but perhaps he was reluctant to remind her of Bingley.

  "Perhaps," Bingley said.

  It must be a serious quarrel then. Elizabeth rose to her feet. "If you will excuse me, gentlemen. I hope I will see you at dinner, Mr. Bingley." She left the room, closing the door behind her.