A bit disconcerted to see self-possessed Fitzwilliam totally lose control and just jump her, she was nonetheless very stimulated by the gorgeous male specimen coming towards her fast. Within a second she felt his full weight land on her and his manhood enter her at the very same time. As the very breath was pushed out of her lungs by his greater weight, she found she trusted him even more than she thought, for she experienced nothing but elation. This was the essence of the man, her husband, a part of Fitzwilliam no-one knew he had, not even himself.
Soon, there was no time for contemplation of what was happening, he had lifted his weight off her chest and she could breathe again, but at the same time she was gasping for air with ecstasy with his exertions, as she felt his hot breath in her neck and the thrill of his touch inside her, losing herself totally in her own ardour. Though they had both gained quite a lot of experience the last few days and were more or less in a constant state of being drained of ardour by indulging whenever they felt like it, which was often, this was so intense it couldn't last long, and it didn't. As her beloved shuddered in release, Elizabeth felt a similar high on the verge of breaking over her, just as he slowed down. She panted, 'Not yet, just a tiny bit more!'
and he managed to give her just enough, two times, three times, he was done
for, chest heaving, his stomach would be hurting, but he still gave her her release.
But after that he couldn't even move to the side anymore, he landed right on top of her, again, but it didn't matter, she wanted him close, she wanted to feel his sweaty body, taste the salt on it, feel his hair wet with the exertion, never in his life had he let go like that, Elizabeth had never been as sure of anything. She was actually very proud of her beautiful, admirable husband.
But the fabulous husband himself was not so pleased, even when he was still heaving for breath his face showed something was wrong with him, a lot.
Did he hurt himself? He couldn't speak a word yet, he had gone very deep indeed, but he tried to, to no avail, nothing came out that made sense even vaguely.
This needed a woman's touch, and Elizabeth stroked him very gently, and kissed him softly, hoping to calm him down a little. This had been so intense, how could he not be totally sated, as usual? She had never heard such reading, never seen such ardour. Her loving touch did calm him down a lot, and that helped to get his breath back of course. But instead of asking her whether he didn't squash her, or whether her muscles didn't suffer, he used his first extra breath to plead.
'Can you ever forgive me for doing that to you?'
As she stared at him without a hint of understanding, he decided he knew enough.
'I knew it, you cannot, and you're right, it is unforgivable, I'm so sorry. I never thought I could lose control like that, you must have been so frightened. I was so sure I would never hurt you, and now I've done it, and we've only been married for a week.'
Slowly, comprehension dawned on Elizabeth, and she wanted to tell her beloved there was nothing to forgive, he let go and it was wonderful, he did look a bit scary there but she trusted him with all her heart, and indeed he didn't hurt her or force her to do anything she didn't want to. He even went beyond himself to satisfy her desire. But she couldn't reach him to tell him that, his shame had taken over completely, he was unable to face her, had buried his face in a pillow, why? What was so terrible about losing control?
That he was not perfect? He knew that already, hadn't she told him once, at length? Hadn't she told him she hated him?
After losing himself totally in heat, and assaulting his beloved in a fit of
blind passion, Darcy couldn't think of anything to offer his Elizabeth but a plea for mercy. It had all been too good to be true anyway, a classic case of hubris, everything went too well, he was too happy. She probably rued the very day she married him, just another brute like all other men, she must think he saw her as his property, bought with the promise of riches and a secure future, to be used as he saw fit...
'Mr Darcy!'
He didn't even manage to attach a meaning to her using his last name, he automatically looked up at the pert tone and sat up, facing the woman of his dreams.
'Good!' Elizabeth said, face serious and quite put out, 'something can still penetrate your nice little wallow in self-pity.'
She stroked his hair, took hold of his chin and kissed him on his mouth, a lot gentler than her face looked and her voice sounded.
'Hmm, you smell nice, you always do after making love. Why do you think I always have a bit of heat left afterwards? You never seem to.'
She was stroking his neck, his shoulders, his chest, indeed with quite a bit of heat. Then she looked him in the eye and addressed him very gently.
'Sorry for being bossy, but you were beyond reason, I needed something to call you back to this reality. And it worked perfectly. What is your problem, my love? I promised to tell you everything, but I did expect you to do me the same courtesy. So talk.'
For a moment, Darcy was stunned. She was the same as always after making love, touching him, smelling him with some desire. He could see no reproach in her, no hurt. After some time he found his voice.
'I lost control, I grabbed you and took you, like those rough men in those lewd books.'
'So I pushed you a little too far,' she said, gently now, 'having you read stimulating stories to me with no outlet for the lust they worked up. And causing you even more lust by touching you in intimate places. You lost it, became your baser self for a few minutes. I kind of liked it. And you read so well, it was as if I was really there, why have I never heard you do that before?'
What? She liked it? She complimented his reading? Did nothing bad happen?
'Would you have liked me better if I had read to you when your sister was
sick at Netherfield?'
She smiled at the memory, who would have thought it would end in their marriage?
'I suppose I would have, yes. Unless you had read this particular story. But seriously, who could do anything but admire someone who reads so well?'
There was but one question to ask.
'So you're not mad at me?'
'No I'm not.'
'And you forgive me for what I did to you?'
'Mr Darcy.'
Oh, she did it again, he couldn't help it, he must throw himself at her feet.
'Yes ma'am?'
'Stop feeling sorry for yourself. There is absolutely nothing to forgive. I made an error of judgement, you didn't notice until it was too late. The result was incredible. I found out I trust you even when you come at me like a wild creature. Your stomach must still hurt from your last efforts to satisfy my needs. Nothing changed between us. Well, except for the reading. I want you to read that whole book to me, and if that means you'll grab me again and take me again, I'm looking forward to it. Now take back your dignity and hold me.'
He did. She wanted him to do it again. Except for the shame, it had felt good, and his stomach did hurt. If it made the gods angry, so be it, he was the happiest man in the world.
Chapter 18
Of course Darcy woke up a boy once again. The whole thing repeated itself, only today Elizabeth wore a beautiful white blouse on the riding skirt, it really looked like a skirt when she was standing still. And Darcy would ride his tall black gelding, his most sensitive horse, the one he felt could teach him the most. Elizabeth wanted to saddle Daisy herself under Peter's guidance, as Hugo the stablemaster saddled Darcy's nameless black. Darcy had never named a horse after coming of age, his horses were distinguished by description, unless he bought one already named. This one, the black, didn't have a name, Hugo bought it from a horse dealer, and they don't care about such nonsense. Hugo came along for safety, though Darcy didn't expect them to need any help. Elizabeth mounted all by herself and found her seat immediately, already striding in nice large circles before Darcy had even mounted.
But since yesterday, he was a bit distracted anyway, he has lost control in the most horrific way possible, f
elt he had wronged Elizabeth beyond forgiveness, and she didn't even mind. She said she trusted him not to harm her, and of course he hadn't, not really. But could he have stopped if she had cried out, or protested?
Peter was talking, Darcy'd better listen to his stable boy and now instructor or he'd make a bad impression on Mrs Darcy. Setting his horse to stride the same circles as Daisy, but on the opposite side of the paddock, they were instructed by Peter, very politely of course, to shorten their horse's stride by tensing up a little, then lengthen it by relaxing once more. It worked, and the black flicked an ear at him as if wondering how he managed to get that after years of pulling reins. Of course Peter rode the black when Darcy didn't use him, exercising the horses was the part of Peter's job that took the most time and that he seemed to like best, so Darcy was the one needing the lesson here, the black already knew it. The instruction continued for half an hour,
Peter led them through different exercises to connect to their horses. Darcy had little time to see how Elizabeth was doing, he was hard at work himself, and strangely enough, his legs ached with the effort it took to ride this way.
After a little rest for horse and rider they did exercises while trotting, and here Elizabeth needed Peter's attention for she still had some trouble finding the rhythm at which to move along with her horse. But she seemed to improve rapidly, and she did so well that Peter told her how to go to a canter, which was clearly a relief after the teeth-rattling trot. Somehow Elizabeth's former lessons had an influence on this different way of riding, for she couldn't have learned so quickly from scratch, could she? After the lesson, Peter politely suggested they let the sweating horses walk themselves dry on a little tour of the property, outside the paddock. Darcy led and Elizabeth followed, Daisy behaved well, of course, and they strode all around the house and gardens. Then they left the horses at the stables and went back to the house, to freshen up and read a little before lunch. After lunch they repeated the bathing, except this time Darcy got in the bath too, or his legs would be stiff tomorrow with the precise control Peter's exercises demanded.
And they even repeated the reading of Pierre's memoires, the next chapter, college, teachers' wives and fellow students' mothers, sisters and aunts, a few maids, every available woman was put through her paces. This time, Darcy managed two lustful scenes before he put away the book and started their loving very tenderly, in control all the time.
In the afternoon Elizabeth received the seamstress as Darcy secretly reviewed what Nathan had found out about securing an independence, and visited Peter in the stables after having had word there was something the young servant found that he wanted to show the master.
When Elizabeth was done they rambled, following another path to where it joined a public road, getting home just after dark once again. It was getting cold outside, there would be frost soon.
As they walked, Elizabeth told him about the seamstress.
'She took my measurements, and I chose patterns from a book with drawings of fashionable ladies, and fabrics from a book with pages of cloth instead of paper. I'd never seen that before. Then Mrs Reynolds came in and suggested I have two or three really fashionable dresses made.
'For London, Mrs Darcy, everyone there will be sizing you up, the master
was well-liked and coveted among the ladies, that's what Simon, his valet, told me. All those ladies will be scrutinizing you, and with a really superior dress it is much easier to be above those petty jealousies.'
Since she was right, I let her convince me, and the seamstress showed me the latest in fabrics and styles, and helped me choose three. But Mrs Reynolds was not finished with me by far, she strongly suggested I order a long winter coat, as well as a short one, to ride in. She said they needed to be fashionable as well, for I was going to want to wear them in London, too.'
Somehow, Darcy had a feeling his love was not yet done, there was still more to come.
'Of course I objected that I couldn't ride in London, without mentioning why, to prevent gossiping by the seamstress. But that didn't foil Mrs Reynolds, for she observed, 'But the master will be wanting to ride in London too, I thought you might want to have one of those dresses made that old Mrs Darcy wore in the painting.'
Elizabeth became very intense now, looking straight at him.
'She was right, Fitzwilliam, if we are to spend the entire winter in London, I don't want to sit indoors all day. I'm afraid I'll have to bow to convention and overcome my fear, and ride like a lady there. So I took her hint and chose a fashionable fabric for a riding dress, the seamstress showed me a picture of what it would look like and the style is surprisingly similar to that which your grandmother wore, a bit less military. It is quite becoming actually. So you see, I'm turning out quite an expensive wife after all, despite being from the country.'
He was almost touched, Elizabeth agreeing to a new wardrobe? And to continue riding in London despite the sacrifice to propriety she'd have to make? She did not show any signs of having been pushed into this, she must really want to make the most of her stay there.
'You don't mind, do you?' she asked. His silence was making her uncertain, she was of course not used at all to spending such amounts on clothing, but Mrs Reynolds was totally right and very attentive to her situation. Ordering all that in London would expose his love to the seamstresses there, who would not understand her reluctance to go all out on lace and ostrich feathers. Starting here with what had to be a toned-down version of fashion was much more sensible, once she was used to London she would choose her own style.
'I am very happy that Mrs Reynolds thought of this. A London seamstress would eat you alive, dress you up like those ladies we saw at the theatre without consulting you. Though this seamstress' idea of high fashion may be several months out of date, Elizabeth. We live far away from town, you know. Still, if you see a style you prefer you can always order that. Besides very rich, I'm also very spoiled, and you deserve some compensation for the hardships you suffer.'
He took her in his arms and whispered to her.
'Do you really want to do that, overcome your fears? You can ramble in London, you know, there are some beautiful parks. There is a space in my London stables for Daisy, and I suppose she is very suitable for city life, but wouldn't you feel humiliated? I don't want to see you diminished in any way, I love you so much, and I admire your independence more than anything. I don't think I could bear to see you bow to anyone or anything.'
His concern obviously touched her, but she had an amazing answer for him.
'Your grandmother inspires me to try, beloved. On the portrait in the gallery she sits that horse with such dignity, she must have been a very strong woman indeed and I will not be diminished by being like her. I'm going to honour her memory by being as dignified as she looks on that horse.'
Her bearing was so proud as she told him this, and then she was back to common-sense Elizabeth.
'Of course I'll have to practise a little before we move, it won't do to show fear in town. I'll have to do that here, in the paddock, where Peter can help me figure out a way to stay in control despite lacking the use of my one leg.
Daisy and I will just have to put in the effort.'
'My dearest Elizabeth,' Fitzwilliam breathed, 'I admire you so much.'
Taking her hand gently he bowed over it and kissed it, and for a very short moment Elizabeth was reminded of him at his most prideful, not long ago at all, slighting her, looking down on everybody, insulting her during his first proposal. Where had that man come from? Mrs Reynolds had never seen him, Elizabeth would never see him again, this was the true Fitzwilliam Darcy, a great man, respected by all, and he bowed before her to profess his love. It was almost unbelievable but he was real, she could feel his short hair, his manly jaws, covered in very short stubble at this time of the day.
He looked up at her and they kissed, overcome with love for each other, such intense feelings.
When that kiss was done he was back to his usual sedate self.
'I do admire you, and I propose we have Peter's missus involved as the true expert. She'll relish the challenge and the excitement. But not yet, first I want you to have more experience with Daisy. There is not very much time, but the last four days of our honeymoon will do for what you plan. I want you to spend the rest of the time riding as it should be done, with the use of both legs. Do you agree?'
'I do,' Elizabeth affirmed.
That night after dinner they sat by a roaring fire reading decent literature for a change, and Elizabeth wanted her beloved to read a few paragraphs to her to see if he was as good when reading superior material. And of course he was, but since it took up a lot of time they decided to read on for themselves. Suddenly Elizabeth looked up, and observed, 'I didn't even ask you what you did this afternoon.'
Fitzwilliam replied with a certain satisfaction.
'I went to see Peter in the stables, he had braved the spiders in the attic and rooted out something I was of two minds to see. But with our conversation just now in mind I'll have him spend some time on it, it's an heirloom from old Mrs Darcy, as Mrs Reynolds calls her. It needs a good clean and some oiling, then plenty of buffing, and then Hugo will have to re-stuff it with lambswool to fit it to Daisy exactly. But when all that is done, you will be the proud owner of one of the most beautiful lady's saddles in the country.
The London belles will look at you and grit their teeth, for not one of them can match you in....well, in anything.'
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