Decisions

by Ola Wegner

  Shortly after their arrival to Pemberley, her husband had discussed with her the importance of keeping the appearances. Darcy did not wish for any gossip among the staff suggesting that his wife was refusing to share his bed. Elizabeth and he agreed that three times a week he would visit her bedchamber in the late evening. Darcy was very consistent with his visitation, and so far he had never missed even one of their night appointments.

  Elizabeth remembered she had been quite unsure of what would happen before his first nightly visit. She had put on the modest gown which she had tied up to her neck and a navy-blue velvet robe. Some of her day dresses were much more daring than her sleep attire that night. When it became clear that Darcy had no intention of throwing himself at her, they had spent a very successful evening together. They talked for several hours, seated by the fireplace. He left well after midnight. Throughout their entire time he acted as a perfect gentleman.

  Elizabeth learned to enjoy those nights when she and Darcy were all alone. She even began to look forward to them. He was more open and less reserved. There were no servants around them or urgent business which needed to be taken care of. He told her much of his childhood. She learned about the things he had done and places he had travelled to before meeting her. The talked and played games. Sometimes they read news from around the world and discussed them. They laughed. She discovered that her husband had a dry sense of humour even though he did not like to showcase it in public.

  This evening, however, as she was waiting for him, she felt different. She could not forget what she had witnessed earlier that day. Particularly one image stuck inside her mind, stubbornly refusing to leave. The man’s hand on the woman’s chest, caressing it. She swallowed, feeling the tightness growing in her own bosom. She looked over at her nightgown. The tips of her breasts puckered against the fine cloth of the nightgown. This happened sometimes to her when she was cold. But it was not the case tonight. The room was toasty warm, and she felt much too hot even though she was not wearing a robe or a shawl.

  Elizabeth touched her heated cheeks. She walked to the nearest window and opened it wide. She inhaled the cool air of the November night. It was invigorating.

  She heard the knock on the door. Darcy entered without waiting to be called in, and his eyes stopped on her nightgown-clad form standing by the open window.

  “Elizabeth?” he asked, his expression bewildered.

  She closed the window and turned to face him.

  “What were you doing?” he asked, walking to her.

  “I was in need of some fresh air,” she explained.

  She could see that his confusion was growing.

  “It is freezing outside,” he pointed out.

  She smiled. Her eyes stopped on his exposed throat. He never wore a neckcloth when he paid her his nightly visits.

  His gentle hand rested on her cheek. “You are indeed quite warm,” he observed.

  Elizabeth felt herself blushing even more.

  His face was etched with concern. He bent his head down to have a better look at her face. “Are you ill?”

  She shook her head.

  “The climate here can be quite traitorous. I am well aware of your love for long walks, but perhaps you should consider taking a carriage next time you want to see the parson’s wife.”

  “I am well,” she said, her voice cracking. She was distracted by the feather-like strokes of his fingers on the side of her face. Her eyes locked on the sparse hair peeking from the opening of his shirt. How would it feel under her hand? Not only was he not wearing a neckcloth, but also his shirt was partially open. She bit down on her lower lip.

  Elizabeth closed her eyes. Oh, why had she gone inside the stables? Why could she not forget what she had seen there?

  “Look at me,” he said softly.

  She did. Their eyes met.

  Very slowly, leaving her plenty of time to stop him, he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers. Hesitatingly at first, she returned the kiss, pressing her lips awkwardly to his.

  He was getting closer to her, his arms coming around her. He pulled at her lower lip, his tongue pushing itself against her lips. Elizabeth allowed him this small invasion, curious about what she would feel.

  She knew that it was the very last moment where she could still stop him. Why was she allowing him to touch and kiss her? She had not craved it before. Did she like him? She knew very well that Darcy had been waiting patiently for her to give him a sign. He came to her room every Wednesday, Sunday and Monday evening, hoping that she would grant him his full marital rights.

  Did she want it? She did not love him. Was it only lust on her part?

  For certain she did not wish to push him away or escape his embrace. She wanted to be closer. Much closer than ever before.

  Darcy kept kissing her, his lips tenderly nibbling hers. His hands dropped from her shoulders and found their way to the end of her braid. He pulled at the blue ribbon. He broke the kiss. Elizabeth watched as he undid the thick braid, allowing the hair to fall down her side as a long, dark curtain.

  “You have beautiful hair,” he whispered against her lips, kissing her again. With quick fingers, he untied the front of her nightgown and pushed it down her shoulders, exposing her shoulders and arms to his eyes.

  Elizabeth blushed heavily, acutely aware of her sudden state of undress. Soon, though, her attention was diverted. Darcy removed his own shirt. She stared at his bare chest, which appeared mightily well formed to her eyes. Shyly, she placed her fingers on his abdomen.

  “You may touch me,” he assured her. “All of me.”

  Elizabeth moved her hands higher, touching his chest. His skin was smooth, but the hair on his chest coarse and springy.

  He leaned down again. This time his lips were more insistent. His hands were pushing down her nightgown farther now. Soon it was pooled down around her ankles and she stood naked in front of him. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. Gently he laid her down across the length on the bed.

  Elizabeth was grateful for her long hair which now covered at least some of her.

  “You are beautiful,” he whispered. “No, do not,” he said when she tried to cover herself with her hands. “Allow me to look at you.”

  Elizabeth gazed at him as well, but when he began to unbutton his trousers, she looked away. She was curious but not brave enough to look.

  Once he disposed himself of his clothing, he lay down next to her. Elizabeth gazed trustingly into his eyes. Remembering her mother’s advice about returning the attention and active participation, she touched his cheek then ran her small hand down his neck and chest.

  “Yes, my love, touch me, touch me,” he murmured, covering her hand with his.

  He pushed the hair which covered her chest and uncovered her bosom to his eyes. She watched fascinated as his hand touched one breast and squeezed it. She’d wondered all day how it would feel and now she knew. She sighed sweetly.

  “You like it?” he asked, staring into her eyes.

  She nodded, biting on her lower lip.

  “You must tell me what you like. Do not be shy.”

  Elizabeth leaned for more kissing, which he instantly complied with. She wished for him to touch her bosom some more, but she did not know how to ask. His tongue played inside of her mouth while he pressed her sideways to him, his hand firmly attached to the small of her back. Elizabeth felt the part of him which was hard and hot, poking into her side. She guessed that he wished to connect them together now, but she was wrong.

  He sat up and helped her to move the covers away. All the manoeuvring was a bit awkward, and she blushed furiously when in the process of her climbing underneath the sheets he kissed her on the bottom, squeezing it lightly and giving it a light pat. Elizabeth lay down and he stretched along her. They kissed. She put her arms around his neck while her leg, as if of its own accord, hooked around his side. She did not think to do it. Is simply happened.

  Her actions elicited a throaty
groan from him. “Good God, Elizabeth, you are killing me,” he said, steadying her in his embrace. “Easy, my love, or it will all end before we even begin. You are a true temptress.”

  He kissed her deeply, then murmured against her mouth. “Will you touch me some more, my love? I shall show you how.”

  To her utter mortification, he took her hand and placed it on the part of him which young ladies should not think about.

  Elizabeth touched the long, hard flesh, not truly knowing what was expected from her. He showed her how to put her fingers around this alien part of him and stroke it. She was not certain if she was doing it any good, as her movements were very hesitant. He had to be of the same opinion, because he pushed her hand away, rose over her, and, supported on his arm, took hold of his member. He pulled at it decidedly a few times before groaning and shaking. Elizabeth watched as whitish goo fell onto her belly.

  Darcy dropped on the bed beside her, breathing heavily. “I came as a boy.” His body shook with laughter. “It has not happened to me for years.”

  He pulled her to him and over him so she lay on him. He kissed her forehead, his hands running over her body, touching her back and the sides. “My Elizabeth, my wife,” he whispered. “You are marvellous.”

  Elizabeth was lying quietly in his arms, her head nestled under his chin. He seemed not to mind the presence of white stickiness between them. He was calm now. His hand was moving leisurely up and down her spine and he was kissing repeatedly the top of her head. She realized that they had not done exactly what they should have. Perhaps he wished to wait for a later date? She looked up into his face to see if he was sleeping.

  His eyes locked with hers. “Wait here for me, my love,” he murmured, and got out of bed.

  Unashamed of his unclothed form, he walked across the bedroom into the dressing room. Soon he returned, carrying a towel in his hand. Elizabeth watched curiously as he cleaned her midsection from the remnants of their lovemaking.

  He threw the towel on the floor and took his place beside her. He touched her cheek and leaned for a kiss.

  Elizabeth sighed into his mouth. They kissed as his hand moved down to touch her bosom.

  “You like it?” he asked.

  She did not deny it. He dipped his head lower, his lips closing around the tip of her breast. Elizabeth gasped for air like a fish thrown out of water. The feelings which he created within her were indescribable.

  “Oh, Fitzwilliam,” she moaned, arching her back to get closer to him.

  He was feasting on her bosom but one of his hands was travelling slowly down her waist, resting lightly on her hipbone.

  He tore himself away from her chest, placing his head on the pillow next to hers. He looked into her eyes.

  His hand wondered to the soft curls at the apex of her thighs. Although she was quite brave before, now she clenched her legs together.

  He waited for her to relax, kissing her lightly. His lips traced down her body, stopping low on her belly.

  Elizabeth lifted her right leg, bending the knee to show him that she was ready for more. He pushed her legs father apart and moved to lie between them.

  “Easy,” he whispered, feeling her stiffening all over. His deep kisses distracted her once again. His fingers touched her most intimate place with feather-like strokes.

  “Close your eyes and lie still,” he ordered in a calm voice.

  Elizabeth did as she was told. She expected that in a moment he would wish to make them one.

  He kissed his way down her body and she soon felt his cheek rubbing against her thigh. When his tongue touched her most intimate place she sat up, her eyes wide.

  “No!” she exclaimed softly. “What are you doing?

  “Trust me,” he said, pushing her down.

  Elizabeth lay down. She was mortified. She had read about this form of love. Those were books from French authors. She wondered if Darcy had read them as well. Soon all the thoughts concerning literature were gone from her mind. She began to moan, not being able to stop herself. His face disappeared completely between her legs so that she could only see his dark curls peeking up from between her legs. His hand pinched and stroked her bosom while his lips were engaged elsewhere. Elizabeth expected that she would pass out from pleasure any moment.

  She was barely conscious when she heard his voice above her. “Are you ready, darling?” he asked. “Can I?”

  Elizabeth embraced him lazily, feeling spent and satisfied.

  He kissed her tenderly. Elizabeth sighed into his lips.

  Soon she felt something hard and unfamiliar nudging against her softness. She opened her eyes, feeling much more alert than before.

  “Fitzwilliam,” she whispered, hesitation ringing in her voice.

  “It will all be well, my dearest,” he panted above her, pushing farther inside.

  Elizabeth felt the pain and instinctively attempted to close her legs.

  He kissed her deeply. “Let me in, my love. I love you so very much.” She felt his weight on her as he pushed her into the mattress. “I adore you.”

  There was no pleasure for her anymore. She could not relax and was quite terrified. She had two hundred pounds of very excited male on her who attempted to pierce her through.

  “Relax, Lizzy, please,” he begged. “It will be easier for you if you do.”

  Elizabeth attempted to listen to him. He distracted her with kisses and caresses, but when he pressed again, she tensed all over.

  “I am sorry,” she whispered.

  “It is all well, darling, all well,” he assured her. “Allow me to help you.”

  Without any warning, he pushed two thick, long fingers inside of her, moving them around. It was not pleasant but bearable. Then he grabbed one of the large pillows and put it under her bottom. This elevated her entire lower body. She had no time to accustom herself to this new position when he pressed her leg to his side and surged inside her, tearing her apart. It hurt. Mrs Bennet mentioned pain, but Elizabeth certainly did not expect anything like this.

  Darcy buried himself deeper. He did not move.

  “Open your eyes,” he said, kissing her face.

  Elizabeth shook her head and tried to twist away from him. He cupped her cheek and demanded, “Look at me.”

  She could not do that. She waited for him to finish and get off her. Slowly he began to move. Every time he pushed back, the pain returned. Attempting to feel more comfortable, Elizabeth shifted marginally underneath him. It brought an instant reaction from Darcy, who moaned and began to move within her more violently.

  Elizabeth stiffened again, expecting more pain, but slowly it was fading, although the entire experience was still highly uncomfortable.

  At last her husband pushed the very last time and groaned his pleasure into the pillow above her head.

  He dropped over her, crushing her, taking her breath away. Seconds later he moved over onto his back. Elizabeth sat up slowly, looking at herself, inspecting the damage which had been done to her. There was dark red blood smeared on her inner thighs, but she appeared to be in one piece. She certainly had not felt like that a short while ago.

  She felt his hand on her waist and lips on her back.

  “Good God, Elizabeth, you are so passionate,” he praised her. “I would have doubted your innocence had I not had solid proof of it.”

  She turned her head to look at him. “You are pleased.”

  His arm hooked around her and brought her to him. “Darling, I barely survived it.” He placed kisses all over her face.

  They lay together for a while, the sheets tangled around their lower bodies.

  “Forgive me for hurting you,” he said. “There was no other way.”

  “I know.”

  “It will be better next time. Smoother.” He ran his hand down her side.

  Elizabeth was less than eager to be battered like this again, but she did not mention it. She was sleepy and she wanted to close her eyes and rest, but the pressure on her bladder was far
too great for that.

  “Where are you going?” he asked sleepily when she tried to free herself from his hold.

  “I must refresh myself,” she said.

  She padded to the dressing room, picking up her robe and nightgown on the way and putting it on.

  She used the chamber pot, which brought her much relief. Then she thoroughly cleaned herself. Afterwards she felt much better. She was seated at her vanity, combing her tangled hair when her naked husband stumbled into the dressing room. He smiled at her then stepped to the chamber pot and unabashedly emptied himself into it. Elizabeth did not know where to look. How could he do such a thing right in front of her?! It was Mr Darcy. He was so proper. On second thought, she realized that perhaps he was not so proper after all, particularly in private. From behind her back, she heard him washing himself. She tried not to look in the mirror when he washed his hands, face and other parts as well.

  “Now, Mrs Darcy,” he said, standing behind her, pushing her hair aside to kiss her neck. “What are our plans for the rest of the night?”

  She stood up, facing him, placing her hands on his arms. “Sleep, it is quite late.”

  He smiled. “Oh, no, Mrs Darcy, you deserve to receive even more pleasure.”

  She shook her head. “I am sore.” She had no intention to allow him to do this to her again tonight.

  “Shush, only pleasure, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, no pain.”

  He carried her to the bed. He was correct. There was much pleasure. Close to three in the morning Elizabeth pushed him away from her, not being able to bear any more of his caresses.

  “Sleep,” he said then, covering her with sheets and spooning behind her. “Rest.”

  She did. She slept soundly until the morning.

  Chapter Nine

  Mary Drew woke up at six like every day. She dressed for the day and went below stairs to have her breakfast. The great house was already in full motion, although the Darcys were to begin their day in more than an hour. As Mary was enjoying some delicious tea, she looked around the table at the other servants gathered around it. She counted five maids, the rest were already starting the fires upstairs. She remembered what Mrs Darcy had said to her last night. She wondered which one of the maids was romancing with the stable boys.