Revelations

by Kirsten Bij't Vuur

  Mr Collins bowed inelegantly and stammered, 'Congratulations Mr Darcy, my esteemed uncle Mr Bennet tells me your decision to marry against Lady Catherine's express wishes is not something you will come to regret. He tells me you can take care of yourself very well. You certainly look very happy with my cousin Elizabeth, as happy as I am with my dear Charlotte. My best wishes for your future.'

  Well, that was a surprise, Mr Collins making sense. The world might come

  to an end soon.

  Eventually, all the duties were done, and they took the new carriage to the building where the party was held, their guests waving the happy couple off before driving there themselves. And a few hours later the party was almost over with, all the guest having eaten, and drunk, and danced to their hearts'

  content. Of course there was little mingling between the guests of the groom and the guests of the bride, but Darcy hadn't expected any differently.

  Elizabeth fitted in with his own connections surprisingly easily, she danced with most of the gentlemen, and talked to most of the ladies, and all in all he had a feeling that she had every reason to consider herself accepted into his circle. She had charmed not only his cousin Fitzwilliam, but his cousin's father and older brother as well. Most men seemed to feel her qualities, and of course she was very self-assured and sociable, using Darcy's hints about who was who to have something sensible to say to everyone. But she had to be be dead tired, she was like a queen holding court with her entire entourage waiting for her to make a mistake and pounce on it.

  Finally Darcy noticed she was starting to wilt a little, clearly very tired with talking all night to people she didn't know, who were judging her and her husband on her performance. But she had held up magnificently, and now he would take her home, his dearest wish come true. Whilst the guests who were still left continued to enjoy themselves, Darcy left the party to the manager and took his bride outside, where the new carriage was waiting for them. With a distinct thrill he handed his wife into it, then got in beside her.

  She leaned against him, finally allowed to touch him whenever it pleased her, and he took her in his arms with a feeling of overwhelming rightness.

  Chapter 11

  After a very short but enjoyable drive in the beautifully crafted carriage that Elizabeth had chosen, Darcy handed his bride out of the carriage and led her to his house, where the door was not held open by a butler but opened with a key, by himself. All the staff was dismissed for the night, staying with friends or family, Georgie had agreed to stay in Bingley's house this once, they had the house all to themselves, they were finally alone. Darcy carried a little bag with some essentials that Jane had packed for her sister, and as the carriage was taken to the stables by the driver, Darcy let them in, closed and locked the door behind them and led Elizabeth to his own bedroom, a large, comfortable room on the first floor. He helped her into a chair next and kneeled before her. She still looked like some princess in that absurdly rich dress, diamonds strewn all over her hair.

  'How are you, love?' he asked softly, 'you look tired.'

  And she did, sitting there she seemed ready to go to sleep, so vulnerable, he had never seen her this way, his beloved. Still feeling his usual reticence to touch her, his long years of self-control had left their traces on his habits and would take time to fade, he took her hands and kissed both of them. She smiled and replied, 'I am very tired right now, but don't worry, if you help me out of this dress and into something more comfortable, I will be perfectly fine.'

  And with no little trepidation Darcy helped his beloved to remove her fashionable veiled hat, then took all the flowers and diamonds and finally also the bows and pins from her hair, making an invaluable pile on the little table. Her hair fell long and straight over her shoulders and back and he touched it reverently, it was so soft and thick, he wanted to kiss her and it, but he wanted to relieve her of the dress first. It was easy enough to unhook the back of the dress, he knew Elizabeth was not used to having a maid of her own and usually wore dresses she could put on herself or with very little

  help, this must have felt like being imprisoned all day. And she did heave a sigh of relief when the back was released.

  'Do you mind if I undress right here and now? I suppose Jane or someone gave you one of my own dresses to wear tomorrow?'

  Did he mind! He couldn't think of anything he'd rather do right now than undress her, but he said calmly, 'She did even better, she packed a dressing gown for you. Do you want to wear that, as conciliation for having had to walk around in that gilded prison all day?'

  'I do want to wear it, Fitzwilliam,' she said, softly and so sweetly, who would have guessed she was so intensely sweet as well as intelligent and beautiful?

  'But beloved, not as conciliation for being uncomfortable today. Your gorgeous coat must have been as uncomfortable and you're not complaining.

  I have not had the chance yet to tell you how incredibly, heartbreakingly beautiful you look in it. But it cannot be other than very uncomfortable.'

  She was right, it was, the stiff collar still chafed the sensitive skin of his throat as it had all day, and his arms couldn't move freely at any time. Even his chest felt constricted, fortunately he had his own dressing gown within easy reach.

  The top of her dress already unfastened it took him a few moments to find the fastenings on the skirt of the dress, but he managed, and she allowed him to lift the whole thing over her head, something she would not have been able to do herself, there was so much fabric, so many pleats and folds of it, it was like a labyrinth of soft cream-coloured cloth.

  As he put the dress away neatly, she'd be surprised how well he could do that despite employing a valet, she slipped the dressing gown over her petticoats and he got just a single tantalizing glimpse of her bare skin. But by now he was so uncomfortable in his own tight clothes he could only think of getting out of his coat and shirt quickly.

  He picked up his own dressing gown and brought it towards her, then stood as patiently as a horse waiting to have its harness removed. As soon as her small hands touched his back, stroking him through his coat, his discomfort instantly vanished to be replaced with growing ardour and expectancy of things to come.

  Elizabeth knew how to remove a gentleman's coat by now and she did it very deftly, but not in one flowing movement. No, she lingered in certain spots, loosening his shirt in the front then feeling his chest under his shirt,

  stroking his shoulders, his back, his arms. Eventually the coat was removed and put away as neatly as the dress, and then she started on his cravat.

  Surprised at first by the amount of fabric released when she undid the knot, she folded it neatly then put it on the table, right next to the little heap of diamonds and bows. Next was his shirt, it had a lot of buttons, and when she had the top half dozen undone the chafing of the collar stopped and he echoed her sigh of relief. She kissed his neck and his throat, gently, and said feelingly, 'You poor thing, that must sting, it's all red and sensitive.' She dropped a few more tender kisses on his poor maltreated skin, and lingered again, relishing his scent, feeling his chest with his shirt still on. She was making it last, this first time, and to help her do that he kissed her ardently, feeling her body under the thin dressing gown, had she removed her petticoats while he fetched his own dressing gown? She had, he could feel her true shape right under his hands, so incredibly exciting he just had to kiss her and hold her for a few moments.

  After the kiss she moved on, she tried lifting his shirt over his head but failed, she couldn't know its long tails were tucked firmly inside his tight breeches so he helped her a bit by holding his breath and pulling them free.

  Shirt now hanging loose she did lift it, taking a long time because she kissed every bit of his skin that was exposed, a bit surprised to see hair on his chest, she had never seen a man bared. But she would, soon, the shirt was over his head, but she had forgotten to unbutton the cuffs at first, correcting that with her nimble fingers when the narrow cuffs wouldn't
go over his large hands. He did not put on the dressing gown yet, let her see him with his chest bared, let her feel the muscles and play with his little chest hairs.

  She put away the shirt then stroked him eagerly, front, sides, back, kissing him again, and he stood still to let her feel him, despite being rather ticklish he managed to enjoy her touch tremendously, his ardour rising but not uncomfortably so, their small intimacies of the last few weeks had hardened him quite a bit.

  'You're gorgeous,' she remarked, 'so strong, so lean.' And she stroked him firmly, which made him glad since too gentle a touch might tickle him, causing him to twitch, as a horse did when touched gently. Wasn't it weird that he knew exactly what a horse's coat felt like and how it reacted to touch, but had never touched a woman's skin before?

  He quickly sat down on the bed for her to help him remove his boots. To get

  out of those high boots Darcy was glad of her help, though he felt a bit ridiculous with a delicate lady in a dressing gown pulling until they gave way. Then he felt ridiculous without them, until he spied Elizabeth looking at him with desire. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, she didn't care about seeing him in his breeches and stockings. But then she moved on, kneeling in front of him and unbuttoning his trousers, and he forgot everything as ardour took hold of him again.

  None of the stories he had read dealt with a lady of no experience undressing a man, would she be put out with what was carefully hidden down there? Should he remove his breeches in private? But she would find out eventually, so what would be the advantage? He couldn't decide, so he let his beloved make the decision, and she wasn't planning to stop and let him retreat to change.

  She got him to stand up then moved on steadily, buttons undone she carefully pulled his breeches down, difficult because they were skin-tight, Darcy feeling slightly anxious she might accidentally hurt him if she used too much force, but as his erect manhood halted the descent of the tight garment she started to lead the fabric around it very carefully, stroking his buttocks still inside his breeches until his ardour threatened to drive him over the edge. He could still think, but only barely, and of course Elizabeth noticed. She pulled the breeches back up a little and helped him into his dressing gown quietly, his ardour settling at a steady high point that was easily controlled.

  She really was taking her time, or wasn't she? He found himself sat down on the bed once more, and they kissed with ardour. Then her voice sounded near his ear, decidedly husky.

  'I have no idea how to continue, Fitzwilliam, I want to just touch all of you, but you keep freezing, trying to control yourself and then it feels like I'm teasing you. Can you enjoy any of it?'

  That was a misunderstanding, she had no idea of his extreme ardour, she was so quiet and loving.

  'I do enjoy your touch, love,' he answered, slowly, 'but I need to control myself for if I don't, I'll grab you and do something to you that will hurt you.

  Not that I've ever done it myself, but I've found some books in my library, you know it was my father's before me, and his father's before that? They were hidden, but I found them after a short search.'

  A broad smile spread over her face, her love for him so obvious it just took his breath away. She sat on his lap and stroked his jaw lovingly, still diverted but so much in love. 'Of course, a book, how could it be different?

  Always improving your mind, Fitzwilliam, I should have known you'd do it reading even on this...subject.'

  How could he not love her to bits? Was there ever a woman who would take the initiative in her wedding night, then admit she hadn't a clue, show concern at her brand-new husband's not enjoying the intimacy, then laugh at him for having read up on it? He leaned over her with his chest on hers and kissed her deeply, and his weight on top of her clearly stimulated her immensely, she held onto him so tightly, and answered his kiss so passionately. When that kiss was done, he asked, 'Do you want me to tell you what I read, or do you want to experiment a little, and learn as we go?'

  'Maybe a bit of both?' she offered, 'why not explore a little and you tell me when it is too much, and when there is something interesting we could do?'

  He answered with a big smile of his own, then sat up and untied her dressing gown. She did the same to his, and they didn't put them away neatly, but threw them in a corner.

  She showed him how to unhook her little corset, and when it was removed, he reverently touched her small, white breasts and smelled and kissed them.

  Then they embraced, and the feeling her soft warm skin on his own tempered his heat for a few moments, bringing back memories of how he had longed to have her in his arms like this, and how desperate and lonely he used to be. He remembered the fantasy he had allowed himself to drown in once in awhile, to make up for the heartbreak he was certain would follow upon their renewed acquaintance. But it hadn't, and his heart soared with happiness to be here with her, married, about to make love for the very first time.

  'No need for sad memories anymore, my love,' she whispered, his face in her bosom and her hands on his hair. 'I'm all yours.'

  Incredible how she could read him like a book.

  'And you're all mine.' She was stroking him again, possessively by now, every part of him, from his hair to his face, then down all the time, his neck, his chest, his stomach, she reached for his breeches and resolutely but gently took them off him. The sight of his excited manhood didn't seem to shock her of frighten her, she was merely curious and very gentle.

  'Can I touch it? Will it hurt?' she asked, and he laughed and explained, 'You can touch it, but beware: according to the stories I read, handling it will drive me mad with lust. So let's take it easy.'

  She heard the humour in his voice, but the controlled heat as well, and she very gently touched him until he breathed in abruptly with the fervour it caused him.

  'Better leave that for a bit,' he panted, 'that's a bit much for now, the best of my stories always start with the lady. With your permission?'

  He moved in and gently but thoroughly explored her intimate parts, finding them an exact match to what he expected from his efforts to 'improve his mind'. Imagine anyone using that phrase ever again, it would have both of them in stitches, and blushing the most brilliant shade of scarlet no doubt.

  Following written instructions he bent over her and used his fingers and mouth to make her shudder, until she groaned deeply and observed, huskily,

  'I'll never laugh at your reading up on something again, beloved, that was just incredible, so good. I wish I had thought of improving my mind on this subject myself.'

  Though he wanted nothing more than continue what he was doing, he couldn't help replying, 'I can just imagine you rifling through your father's library. What if you had found something like that? At least I knew what my father was like before I read this, he used to encourage me to let go of my principles and just indulge myself, I knew there would be some explicit books even in his London library. They are pretty lewd, Elizabeth, though I'll give them to you to read if you want to.'

  'I do, now stop talking and go on, I want more.'

  Feeling elated, he replied humbly, 'Yes, my lady, with pleasure,' then made her moan again, exactly like the book, until she suddenly had some kind of release, and she spoke with heat still colouring her voice.

  'That was the best feeling I ever had. I'm starting to get some faith in your book. What's next?'

  'Well, I can do that as many times as you like, and you could do it with me, too. But that could make me hurt you again, for it might make me lose control, that happens a lot in the book. Of course those men aren't gentlemen, but let's not take any chances.'

  Now he experienced some doubt, for what they usually did in the book was the thing that could hurt if the girl was untouched. But in the stories they were rough, and he was going to be very careful.

  'Will you show me? I don't think we're done here, I feel so heated, and you're very excited, I can tell.'

  She seemed eager, so he'd try, but, 'Tell me if it hu
rts, I don't want to cause you pain.'

  Of course his own body was telling him exactly what to do by now, but he really had a problem with actually doing it. Was he merely afraid to hurt her, or was he just too used to suppressing his ardour? Maybe it was shame holding him back, unwillingness to act like an animal?

  She was stroking him with true heat now, eager to kiss again, and as he answered that kiss she took matters in her own hand, taking hold of him with her legs and pulling him in, guiding him towards her. His resistance broke and he let her, ecstasy and lust driving him to give her what she wanted despite his fear she would prove to small and he'd hurt her. Fast losing all coherent thought in the ecstasy of his entry, he did nonetheless not let himself go totally in this incredible feeling, he forced himself to be gentle and check how it felt to her. Looking at her face he could see she was not suffering at all, she was in as much ecstasy as he was, and at her insistence and with a little assistance of one of her legs, again, he finally let go of his control altogether. They both became frantic with lust and indeed behaved much like beasts, rutting and panting together until they were totally exhausted and strangely sated. His fervour had caused him to exert himself beyond his physical limit, he was out of breath and his stomach hurt. But he didn't care about that at all as he let himself fall on the bed beside her, panting and feeling more than a bit awed at the same time. She snuggled against him and gave him little kisses, looking at him with a very soft expression, stroking his sweating, heaving body, and she observed, 'You're so smart to read up in situations like these.'

  Turning towards her he caressed her hair and her face, feeling very pleased with her compliment, and sated, very sated and actually, rather sleepy. He didn't remember any of those stories warning the reader he would fall asleep immediately after making love, but there was no help for it now, he was not going to stay awake whatever he tried. The last thing his conscious thought registered was Elizabeth covering him lovingly with a blanket, and then he was fast asleep.