What Would Mr. Darcy Do? (pemberley variations)

by Abigail Reynolds

  “I find it hard to picture you submitting graciously, Fitzwilliam!”

  Hard to picture! What did she think he had been doing since he met her? Well, perhaps some of it involved submitting less than graciously. There were so many possible responses to her comment, nearly all of them provocative, and he knew full well where that would lead. Desire rose in him, and he briefly regretted sitting so close to her, but managed to stay still by sheer willpower. He had strict plans for his behavior on this particular day, and, in deference to his desire to retain some degree of sanity when they reached London, those plans did not include permitting any passionate interludes while they were alone in a coach for two hours. Finally he forced himself to say, “I know better than to argue with Mrs. Adams!”

  She tilted her head to look up at him with a bewitching smile. “I shall look forward to seeing that.”

  The temptation to kiss her was nearly overpowering. Sighing, he settled himself back for what was clearly going to seem like a very long journey.

  * * *

  Darcy’s townhouse did not disappoint; it demonstrated the same elegance and good taste which had characterized Pemberley. Elizabeth could still not quite credit that she would be living in such lovely homes, and felt disconcerted as she was greeted by each servant in turn—and there were so many of them!—as Mrs. Darcy. The alarming Mrs. Adams turned out to be a plump, motherly woman who greeted Darcy with obvious affection and welcomed Elizabeth warmly.

  After a brief period of refreshment, Darcy took Elizabeth on a tour of the house to which she attended with great interest, though she was continually more distracted by thoughts of the night that lay ahead. She was not surprised to find an extensive and clearly well-used library; she could picture Darcy spending hours there. She paused in the dining room, where a portrait of a lovely woman bearing a distinct resemblance to Georgiana graced the wall over the mantle. She looked over her shoulder at Darcy. “Is that your mother?” she asked.

  He came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. “Yes, that was painted shortly after she married my father. She would have liked you.”

  “I wish I could have met her,” she said, leaning back against him. She relaxed in his arms, but Darcy’s response was far from relaxation—he had been suffering in silence quite long enough. He bent his head and began to press gentle, slow kisses on her exposed neck. She gasped, involuntarily arching her neck to allow him better access. She whispered his name with longing as he moved onward to explore the hollows of her shoulder. She felt a deep desire rise in her as he allowed his hands to caress her, and struggled to reach his lips with hers in an effort to gain some relief.

  Their mouths met with a deep hunger, and Darcy pulled away sooner than she would have wished. She looked up into his eyes, dark with passion, as he released her and whispered, “Soon, my love, soon.”

  Elizabeth blushed a fiery red at his acknowledgement of the night to come, unaware that he was thinking if he touched her for one minute longer, he would lose all his good intentions and carry her upstairs immediately.

  God, but he loved making her want him! And he had plans to do a great deal more of it. Later.

  Mrs. Adams materialized in the doorway, making Elizabeth wonder in embarrassment how long she might have been waiting for a decent moment to walk in. “Mrs. Darcy, I was wondering if you would like me to show you to your rooms so that you can refresh yourself before supper?”

  Elizabeth consented, but was aware of a pair of dark eyes that followed her intently as she left.

  * * *

  Supper was a somewhat forced affair, with both Darcy and Elizabeth trying to keep a light conversation going while their minds were quite occupied elsewhere. Sudden pauses would occur, accompanied by a coloring of her cheeks, but for the most part they successfully talked of their plans for London and Pemberley with great perseverance. Afterward Darcy requested the pleasure of a song at the pianoforte, in which Elizabeth was happy to oblige him, not least because it provided an opportunity for distraction from her thoughts of what lay ahead. Shortly thereafter, she came to the conclusion that this period of waiting was only making her more nervous, and announced her intent to retire for the night.

  She met her new maid, who assisted her in her preparations quietly and unobtrusively. Another thing to get used to, my own maid, she thought philosophically as she dressed herself in her silk nightgown and matching dressing gown, a gift from her aunt Gardiner for the occasion. As she brushed out her hair, she pondered Mrs. Gardiner’s other gift, a gentle but frank discussion of what this night would involve. It was rather difficult to picture, she decided, then recalled her aunt’s words—It may seem quite confusing, but remember, my dear, to trust your husband; he loves you and will be gentle. She was glad now she and Darcy had taken some liberties ahead of this day, so at least it would not all be foreign. Some of his kisses had led to startling enough effects on their own.

  In the next room, Darcy was similarly preoccupied as he carefully reviewed in his mind his plans for the night. He had given the question of how to approach Elizabeth a great deal of thought—after all, it had been one of his favorite subjects for consideration for some time—and had concluded that his greatest challenge was to be patient and gentle when his every instinct was craving immediate satisfaction. He had been present over the years at enough late-night conversations at his club—not to mention a few carefully placed words of advice from Mr. Gardiner—to be aware that for a protected, gently bred young woman the wedding night offered potential for an unpleasant experience, and he was determined that his passionate and responsive Elizabeth should have no reason after this night to be any less passionate or responsive.

  Taking his planning down to great detail, he had decided that it might be a little too disconcerting for Elizabeth to see him this first time in his nightshirt and robes. He had determined that he would approach her in his shirt and breeches, which might be less shocking.

  Unfortunately, there was only so far that planning could take him, and then he had to face the uncertain realities of the situation. This is it, man, he told himself, this is what you have been waiting for these many months. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the adjoining door to her room and knocked lightly.

  Hearing her soft voice bidding him enter, he opened the door to see her sitting at her vanity brushing out her hair. The sight of her in her nightclothes, her dark hair loose around her shoulders as he had so often imagined, nearly made him dizzy with desire at the thought of being alone with her and uninterrupted. He leaned a hand against the doorframe for support as he drank in the picture for a moment, then walked over to stand behind her chair, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders.

  They regarded one another in the mirror for a moment, then Elizabeth smiled and placed her hand affectionately over one of his, and was rewarded by the warm look in his eyes. He looked devastatingly attractive unencumbered by waistcoat, tailcoat, and cravat, his shirt open slightly at the neck, and she found that her mouth was becoming dry.

  He ran his fingers gently through her hair as he had so long desired to do. “You look very beautiful tonight, my love,” he said softly. He gathered her hair in his hand, and, moving it to one side, leaned over and gently kissed the nape of her neck.

  It was unfair that his every touch had such power to stir her, she thought as he moved his lips along her exposed neck. Sensation built up in Elizabeth as he enjoyed the taste of her delicate skin. His mind tried to leap ahead to all the other ways he planned to enjoy her, but he firmly reined himself in, the only visible sign of his struggle being a slight tightening of his hands on her shoulder. With deliberation, he gently moved aside her robe to expose part of her shoulder in a symbolic disrobement, attending carefully to see how she responded. She remained still, but in the mirror he could see that her lips were parted, and he could feel the shallowness of her breathing. Pleased, he allowed his lips to explore the area his fingers had discovered.

  Elizabeth, meanwhile, w
as astonished by the sensations he was creating. She had thought herself already aware of how powerfully his touch could move her, but as he had slipped his fingers under the edge of her nightgown, the depth of her awareness of his touch had threatened to overwhelm her. She gripped the arms of her chair, and Darcy, sensing her response, allowed his lips to linger in the hollows of her shoulder.

  She shivered, and he raised his head to look at her in concern, hoping she was feeling no fear. His eyes silently asked her for permission to continue, and in response, unable to tolerate being only the passive recipient of his touch any longer, she turned her head and drew his mouth down to hers with a hunger that could not be denied. He tasted the delight of her lips, and incapable of being as patient for her touch as he wished, drew her to her feet and into his arms. She felt a shock at her awareness of his body against hers, augmented by the absence of his coat; now she could feel the shape and strength of his broad shoulders, and it aroused her profoundly and made her long for more.

  “Elizabeth, my Elizabeth,” he murmured as he once again took possession of her mouth. As if able to hear her desires, his hands slid down to the belt of her dressing gown and untied it with fingers that felt suddenly clumsy. Unable to deny himself, he slipped his hands between her robe and her nightgown and caressed her back, delighting in the feel of the nooks and crannies that the fine fabric did not disguise.

  With a moan of pleasure, she arched herself against him. He continued to stroke his hands along her body, exploring curves he had only dreamed of. There was no more room for fear; she felt driven by pure sensation. She whispered his name in a plea for she knew not what, and, sensing her surrender to her own desires, his own self-control slipped even further. He stepped back just far enough to lift the robe off her shoulders and let it slide to the ground, allowing him to admire her form, little disguised by her nightgown.

  The scrutiny of his eyes was not enough to meet Elizabeth’s longing. Feeling momentarily bereft of his touch, her instincts led her to run her hands down his chest, arousing him powerfully, until, no longer able to resist his own need to feel her touch, he covered her hands with his own and slid them under his shirt. Hearing her gasp, the thought penetrated his passion-hazed mind that perhaps he had pushed her too quickly, but as her hands began their own delightful exploration, it became clear the only shock was one of intense pleasure. Elizabeth, stunned by the intimate sensation of his warm skin under her fingers, let her hands explore his back as she pressed herself against him, her body craving the pleasure only he could give her.

  The sweet torture of her touch aroused him even beyond what he had expected. His need for her grew as he felt her soft body against him, and, knowing he could wait no longer, he gave in to temptation and finally let his hands move upward and untied the drawstring of the last remaining impediment to his beloved Elizabeth.

  * * *

  Darcy awoke the next morning to a pleasant feeling of warmth. His heart stilled as he saw Elizabeth’s sleeping face next to his, a small smile of contentment curving her lips, and her dark hair spread across the pillow and drifting onto his chest. It is not often one has the opportunity to see one’s dreams turn into reality, he thought dreamily. With his eyes he traced the lines of her beloved face, and thought how privileged he was to be able to wake up with such a bewitching woman beside him.

  Falling asleep with her in his arms had been quite extraordinary as well, he thought. His mind drifted to the events of the previous night, and he smiled to think of the delight they had found together, the intense pleasure he had taken in helping her to discover the surprises her body had in store for her. Her responsiveness had been everything he hoped for and more, and it was with the greatest of satisfaction that he recalled their explorations and how they led to the moment when her desire and pleasure had equaled his own. The look of wonder on her face after he had satisfied her was one he would never forget.

  Even more powerful was the knowledge that they now truly belonged to one another. After all the misunderstandings, the pain, and the separations, Elizabeth was finally his, and there could be no going back. No more fears she would somehow disappear if he said or did the wrong thing—now, if they had a conflict, they would have to work it out together, for better or for worse. Having Elizabeth to share his life was the greatest gift he could imagine.

  Her eyes fluttered open as he watched. She colored as she realized where she was, and how comfortable she felt with her limbs entangled with his. It was a moment before she felt ready to meet his eyes, but when she did, she found them full of warmth and affection.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Darcy,” he said softly, the appellation a reminder that he could expect this pleasure for the rest of his life.

  “Good morning to you, Mr. Darcy,” she responded with a sleepy smile.

  “Indeed it is a very good morning,” he agreed, giving her a light kiss.

  She nestled closer to him, astonished anew by the exquisite sensation of his skin against hers. What a night of discovery it had been for her, as Darcy had tantalizingly led her each step of the way to places she had never dreamed of. To think that she had believed that she had already experienced the deepest extent of desire! Nothing had prepared her for what he had unleashed in her, or for the pleasure and satisfaction that followed. Her eyes grew dark with the remembrance of it.

  His awareness of Elizabeth’s body against his was rousing similar feelings in Darcy. His hand, seemingly of its own accord, began to slide along her curves. Their eyes met, sharing messages between them, until their mouths joined with a deep passion. He experienced not so much a gradual building as a sudden onslaught of desire, as if the satisfactions of the night before had never existed, and he could tell from her response that she was feeling a similar intensity. His need communicated itself to her as he pulled her to him and captured her mouth with a burning urgency that matched her own, and Elizabeth saw there were yet more new experiences in store for her.

  Epilogue

  It was snowing very lightly when they left Pemberley for Lambton. After several days of poor weather kept them restricted indoors, Elizabeth was longing for a chance to set foot in the outside world. Mrs. Gardiner had expressed an interest in visiting one of her Lambton friends, and Elizabeth was interested in finding some new millinery, so an outing was decided upon. Darcy decided at the last moment to join them, though how much was due to a desire for the company of his wife, and how much represented an excess of exposure to the post-Christmas exuberance of the Gardiner children could not be said.

  The Darcys had visited Lambton on several occasions since their return to Pemberley. Although the Darcy family never before favored Lambton with their custom, Elizabeth had early established a preference for the small market town owing to her previous familiarity with it. Her inclination was reinforced by the friendly behavior of the inhabitants, who took personal pride in the new Mrs. Darcy as the niece of a former Lambton resident, and, should anyone in the town have forgotten that she had met with Mr. Darcy on more than one occasion in their village, any number of people would have reminded them of the fact immediately. The value of a mistress of Pemberley who brought her family to their village could not be underestimated, either.

  Certain of the village residents had therefore seen it as their business to find out more about the goings-on in the Darcy family, and, in cultivating their acquaintance with members of the staff at Pemberley, had been able to report back that Mr. Darcy was considered to be exceedingly enamored of his lively new wife, and much more cheerful and less proud than was his former wont. This intelligence being spread rapidly throughout the town, Mr. Darcy was bemused to discover that he was being greeted with smiles of amused indulgence from the villagers whenever he accompanied his wife to Lambton. Though he professed bafflement with the change, Elizabeth suspected that he surreptitiously enjoyed being the recipient of this kind of attention, so unlike any he had received in the past.

  When Elizabeth finished her business in the town, she fou
nd it still wanted an hour until the time Mrs. Gardiner was to rejoin them. Rather than hurry her aunt’s visit, Darcy suggested they might stop at the Lambton Inn for something warm to drink. This being agreeable to her, they proceeded to the inn where the proprietor, feeling the Darcys might prefer more privacy than the main room offered, showed them to the private sitting room Elizabeth remembered well from her last visit.

  Elizabeth looked around at the familiar paneled walls and heavy furniture. Turning to her husband with a smile, she asked, “Do you remember the last time we were here together?”

  “Vividly. I lived on the memory of those moments for weeks.”

  “And now, not half a year later, here we are again.”

  “But in a condition much different from where we left off, and far preferable, I must say.”

  It was indeed far preferable, Elizabeth thought, reflecting on how content she had been since their marriage. Pemberley, while still new to her, was beginning to feel like her home; Georgiana was becoming a true sister, and the staff at Pemberley had welcomed her. If Mrs. Reynolds possessed any qualms about the young woman her master had brought home, she overcame them when she saw the joy she brought him, and the liveliness, absent from Pemberley these many years since old Mr. Darcy passed away, that she added to the household. She remarked to Elizabeth on one occasion how much more like his old self as a boy Mr. Darcy seemed. Elizabeth was also quite certain the housekeeper was pleased by the Gardiners’ Christmas visit, since it meant the halls of Pemberley were ringing with children’s laughter and Christmas spirit again.

  “And with far better understanding of one another, I should hope,” she added.

  “I believe you could safely say that,” he agreed.

  “As I recall, you had some difficulty believing I was serious in my regard for you,” she teased.