by Ola Wegner
Darcy walked to her and asked with a frown. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I am terribly untidy. I never put things where they should be.”
Darcy looked instantly relieved. “I can deal with it.”
Elizabeth gave him a doubtful look. “We shall see.”
She walked to the window. “The garden!” she exclaimed. “And quite big for town.”
“Yes, it is quite big,” Darcy agreed distractedly, standing right behind her. She leaned trustingly into his solid frame. His arms went naturally around her, rocking her a little.
“I think I am falling in love with you,” she whispered.
Darcy stilled completely for a moment.
Elizabeth turned around, looking up at him.
The next moment she was in his arms, and they were kissing passionately. Darcy moulded her body to his, and she was not longer intimidated feeling his excitement pressing into her belly.
They tumbled on the bed in a tight embrace. Soon the upper part of her dress was pushed down, and he was focusing all his attention on her uncovered breasts, trying to swallow one soft peak with his mouth while kneading the other one with his palm.
When he raised his eyes to her face, he saw her looking exactly like the images of her in one of his fantasies. Bared before him to her waist, her arms thrown around her head in abandon, eyes closed, lips half open, soft sighs escaping them. He tugged at her gown to reveal more of her middle, kissing the path from the undersides of her breasts down her stomach.
Elizabeth moaned audibly when he flipped his tongue around her belly button. Her hands clasped at his arms firmly, and she brought him to her face.
“You are so sweet,” he murmured between their kisses as Elizabeth was trying to push the coat off his shoulders.
Kneeling on the bed, he began undressing himself. Elizabeth lifted herself as well, her hands reaching up to tug at his neck cloth impatiently. He helped her, getting rid of it in one movement.
She pushed him on his back, and Darcy’s immediate attention was caught by her swaying breasts as she loomed over him, her fingers working busily on the opening of his shirt. His head lifted in attempt to catch the delicate light pink tip of her breast in his mouth.
At last she slid her hands under his shirt. He moaned feeling her cool hands stroking his sides and stomach while she placed moist kisses on his chest.
Soon she was on her back again, and his right hand was on a journey under her skirts. He felt her calf, knee and the edge of her stocking. The top of her thigh felt warm and fleshy to his touch. He dipped his face into her neck, pressing his chest into her breasts, while his fingers darted between her thighs, finding heat and the incredible softness of her intimate folds.
It took a few seconds for him to notice she had stopped returning his kisses and lay passively in his arms.
As he looked into her eyes searchingly, he did not like what he read there. He mouthed angrily a crude word under his breath, rolling himself away from her onto his back.
“I beg your forgiveness. You deserve better. I am a brute,” Darcy panted hoarsely, staring at the canopy.
Sitting up with his back to her he raked his hands through his hair.
When he looked at her she was blushing brightly, tears gathering in her eyes. She tried to frantically cover herself, awkwardly pulling her dress back in place, her hands trembling.
“Let me help you,” he whispered, walking to her side of the bed . He helped her to put her arms back into the short sleeves of the dress.
Elizabeth’s lips trembled. “You are angry with me.”
“I am not,” he said brusquely, buttoning her dress at the back.
Elizabeth scrambled out of the bed on her feet. “You are,” she insisted as tears ran down her cheeks.
“Yes, I am furious, but not with you, but myself. I have just nearly seduced my innocent intended in the middle of the day, when my baby sister can enter the room any moment looking for us.” He hugged her to him from behind, kissing her hair. “I am sorry. Have I hurt you?”
“No, no! Of course not,” she cried vehemently, turning into his arms to face him. “It all felt so very lovely, truly wonderful, but when you started to touch me there….” she murmured uneasily into his still partially uncovered chest.
He put a finger on her mouth. “You do not have to explain. I have rushed you. Good God, I have nearly...”
She took his hand, her eyes meeting his. “I have eagerly participated in it.”
“I should have known better. Have I frightened you very much?”
“No, it is just when you touched me there I suddenly remembered what Mama told me and my sisters.”
He frowned. “Which is?”
Elizabeth looked up at him, wide eyed. “That we cannot let anyone touch us in our private places. It is sinful; and it brings some horrible diseases.”
He looked at her with concern, stroking her cheek. “I would never hurt you.”
“Oh, I know,” she assured. “I do not know why I reacted like that,” she whispered embarrassed.
He kissed the top of her head, his hands placed on her shoulders. “Dearest, has your mother talked with you about what happens between man and wife or about where the babies came from… No?”
Elizabeth shook her head, blushing. “No, she has not, but I was brought up in the country.” She cleared her throat. “I do realize that we are mammals the same as dogs and horses.”
“Then you know what happens in the marriage bed,” he summarized.
The blush on her face became even more pronounced, spreading down her neck and lower. “I am not certain as to the specifics,” she confessed, looking everywhere but at him. “Though I have certain ideas, of course. Sleeping in one bed is required, and you can avoid it easily enough by claiming a headache.”
Darcy smiled at her last words. “Yes, but do you know what happens exactly?”
She gave a slight nod. “It is like with horses,” she acknowledged, her voice hoarse.
He groaned inwardly. “Not exactly.”
Her bright eyes met his. “Tell me then.”
Darcy hesitated. “Elizabeth, perhaps your mother should speak with you about it or your Aunt Gardiner…”
“Please,” she urged. “I feel so foolish not knowing.”
“You know that this part of me enters your body here?” He guided her hand, placing it first on the lap of his trousers and then at the juncture of her legs.
She nodded, her eyes wide.
“When the man is inside, he leaves some part of him there, and sometimes a baby is conceived, but not always.”
Elizabeth stared at the front of his trousers. She swallowed. “Will it fit?”
“Yes, but I have heard the first time can be painful for a lady. I assure you that what I have done, the way I attempted to touch you; it is perfectly natural and permissible between man and wife. It is to help a woman, to prepare her for what is to happen next.“
Her dark eyebrows creased in confusion. “But…”
“Elizabeth, I think it would be the best for your mother or perhaps even better your aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, to talk with you in detail about this,“ Darcy interrupted her gently. “But trust me on this: everything I have done is perfectly natural and normal between a husband and wife.”
“You must think me terribly naïve,” Elizabeth murmured unhappily.
Clasping he hand in his, he led her to the small sofa, situated near the fireplace. Sitting on it, he pulled Elizabeth on his lap.
“I do not think you to be naïve or foolish, as you said before. It pleases me very much that you know so little about intimate relations, and the only experience you are to gain is from me. I cannot imagine it any differently for my wife. This is the way young ladies of your station are brought up in our society. I think that your mother told you and your sisters all those things to protect you from any man that would try to harm you. She has frightened you with it, to be sure, but I can understand her reasoning.�
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Elizabeth rested her back more comfortably against his solid chest and looked up at him. “But is it true? I mean what Mama told us about those dreadful illnesses.”
“Yes, it is sometimes. It can even lead to death in most drastic cases. But never in marriage long as the man and wife are healthy and faithful to each other. You do not have to be afraid. I am healthy. I cannot say I am inexperienced, but I am much less experienced than most men from my social circle. I have always been very cautious.”
There was a moment of silence before Elizabeth spoke shyly. “You mean with other women.”
Darcy hesitated. “Yes.” He tilted her chin with his finger. “Elizabeth, there were not many of them, and I have never ruined any young woman. They were all actually a few years older than me. And I never felt anything similar to what I feel with you, when I hold you in my arms, when I touch you.”
Elizabeth gave him a small, pale smile. “Thank you for being sincere with me.”
She straightened herself a bit in his arms, and her delicate eyebrows began moving slightly, as always when she was pondering some matter seriously.
Darcy observed her keenly for a moment and then spoke slowly. “Elizabeth, I know it is all very new for you, and perhaps you would wish to wait a bit. I would not mind.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “You want to postpone the wedding?”
“No, no. Certainly not.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “I mean that I do not expect you to come to my bed the very first night. We can have separate bedrooms for the time being. I do not wish you to feel that you must do it. We have our whole lives together, and if we wait a few weeks or even …” He swallowed and added, somehow, weakly. “… even months, it shall not change anything. For now it is enough you are to be my wife, that we are together,” he stressed, hugging her to him, murmuring into her ear. “I can see that you are still uncomfortable with what is to happen in the marriage bed. I do not want you to feel unhappy because of that.”
Elizabeth stared into his eyes with emotion. “You are a good man, William.”
Chapter Twelve
On the eve of Elizabeth’s wedding to Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Bennet entered her second daughter’s bedchamber. She found her two eldest daughters cuddled together on the bed, whispering something to each other and laughing, the same as when they had been little girls. Her heart tugged at the thought that it was probably the last time she would find them so.
“Jane, could you please leave us alone? I want to talk with Lizzy.”
“Certainly, Mama.” Jane agreed.
As soon as Jane left, Mrs. Bennet sat stiffly on the edge of the bed. “We have not talked for a very long time, Daughter. I know how much you loved your father…,” she paused and added quietly, “more than me.”
Elizabeth stared at her mother, visibly surprised with her words. “It is not like that…,” she began uneasily. “I have not liked him more, just … differently. It was easier for me to talk with him and…”
Mrs. Bennet shook her head. Taking Elizabeth’s hand, she kissed it lightly. “Lizzy, I want to, I need to, before you go with your husband, to thank you and apologize to you.”
“Thank me and apologize? For what?”
Mrs. Bennet was silently for some time before she began to speak quietly. “I know I have not treated you the way I should have treated a daughter. It was hard for me, not because I love you less than others girls, but it was difficult for me to show my feelings for you. It was easier to cuddle Jane or Lydia; they are much like me, both in their looks and disposition. And you were always such an independent spirit, so stubborn, not girlish enough for me.” Mrs. Bennet tugged at one of Elizabeth’s disobedient curls, trying to put it back into the place. She smiled, shaking her head helplessly when it instantly sprang back the moment she moved her hand back. “No matter how hard I tried to arrange your hair, they always escaped from the pins and ribbons. You ran around the village with the Lucas boys and tore the prettiest dresses I bought for you. Jane always cared about her clothes as I taught her, and when I asked her to sit motionlessly not to crumple the ruffles, she simply listened to me and you…”
Elizabeth smiled. “And I climbed the nearest tree.”
Mrs. Bennet gave a small chuckle. “Your father just laughed, hugged you and carried you around in his arms every time you came back home all dirty and wet, with ruined slippers and petticoats because you decided to wade in the stream or in a muddy puddle. There was a time I was desperate you would grow into some half wide creature, which resembled in no manner a gently bred young lady. But I was wrong. I was so wrong about you, Elizabeth,” Mrs. Bennet repeated, squeezing her daughter’s hand. “I am so proud of you, Elizabeth. You must know this. You are a beautiful young woman, charming, intelligent, accomplished, well read, well spoken, sensible, kind, a true lady. Someone I have never been.”
“Mama, that is not true!”
The older woman smile sadly. “No, child. I know who I am. I am silly and shallow, just a simple weak woman. A man like Mr. Darcy would never turn his eyes to someone like me.”
Elizabeth looked at her mother as if she had seen her for the first time in her life. She wanted to say something back to her, but she lacked the right words.
“Have I ever told you about your grandmother, your father’s mother?” Mrs. Bennet asked in a lighter tone.
“No, but father mentioned many times that I was named after her and that I look very much like his mother.”
“Indeed you do. When they first handed you to me, just after you were born, I looked at your pretty little face, and I immediately thought - Lady Elizabeth.” Mrs. Bennet chuckled. “I was horrified. Sometimes it is almost frightening how similar you both are. The way you speak, move, arch your brow, those marvellous eyes of yours. I sometimes wondered whether you are really mine. If I had not carried you in my body for the nine months, I would not have believed that you are my own child.”
“Mama…”
“Your grandmother did not like me,” Mrs. Bennet confessed, her voice bitter, her back stiff, her hands clasped tightly together on her lap. “She found me not good enough for her only son. Did you know her father was a lord?”
“A lord?” Elizabeth cried in astonishment, her eyes wide. “Father never mentioned that.”
Mrs. Bennet waved her hand dismissively. “Well, your father never cared about such matters. His mother had married much below her station. It was a love match, I heard. Her parents were furious. She was their only daughter, and they disinherited her for that. She soon became a widow. Your grandfather died young because of fever; your father was only five. I am not sure whether her family ever contacted her. I had not even known her family name till I found it in the family Bible. It all happened before I was even born, so all I know is from the other people.”
“So they never contacted her…,” Elizabeth repeated slowly, hugging her knees to her chest. “But she was their daughter and she had a baby, their grandson. I cannot imagine that.”
“My thoughts exactly, Lizzy.” Mrs. Bennet patted her daughter’s hand. “I always found it strange that her family never tried to help her somehow. She was left alone with a small boy. She was not destitute, of course; there was Longbourn, but as you said, your father was their grandson after all. They should have taken some interest in him; despite the fact their daughter disobeyed their wishes. But the very rich people are like that, ready to break bonds with their closest relatives just because of the money and the position in the world.”
“Did Papa ever speak with you about this?”
“No, he did not. He never mentioned the family from his mother’s side. I have never asked. I thought that perhaps he was hurt that they rejected him. And for what reasons! Bennets were always among the best gentry in the county, even in the whole of England, my dear, no doubt about that. Anyway Lady Bennet wanted for her only son a gentleman’s daughter, in the least; and though my father was wealthy, he was just an attorney. And his father was just a shoemaker
. I was nothing to her. I believe that your father would have never married me if his mother had still been alive. He would not dare.”
Elizabeth looked at her mother with compassion. “I am so sorry, Mama.”
Mrs. Bennet shrugged her shoulders. “It was a long time ago…. But I still remember the way she, your grandmother, looked at me, as if I was not more than dirt on the road.” The tears stood in Mrs. Bennet’s eyes, and she spoke brokenly. “God forbid me, but every time you look at me with those fine eyes of yours, her eyes, I feel as if she has been looking at me, judging me. I know it is silly, but I cannot help it.”
“Mama,… I have never been aware.”
Mrs. Bennet cupped Elizabeth’s cheek. “It is not your fault that you are her spitting image. And, Lizzy, I want you to know that I married your father because I loved him.” Mrs. Bennet's face relaxed, and she smiled happily to her memories. “Oh, Lizzy, he was so handsome, the most sought after bachelor in the whole county, so charming and so intelligent. I could not comprehend half of what he was telling me.” She laughed to herself and, patting Elizabeth’s hand, leaned into her confidentially. “He had travelled to Europe before the Revolution; he was educated at the university. I could not believe my own luck when he started to notice me and pay me attention. I was so happy when he married me. He was good to me, and he was not angry at me at all when I gave birth to Jane instead the heir to Longbourn. He said that the girl looked just like me, so she would surely turn him around her little finger. I was so happy, Lizzy. Then you were born and he … changed,” Mrs. Bennet paused, staring with unseeing eyes in the space in front of her. “You were such a pretty, lively child. You were so smart from your earliest years. You did everything earlier and better than other children. You read fluently at the age of three. Every time he came back home he cried. “Where is Lizzy? Where is my little girl?”
“Oh, Mama…”
“It is a shame to acknowledge this, but I was jealous of you. I know that I should not have been, but it was stronger than me. He stopped talking with me, walking with me, sharing his thoughts and plans with me because he had you. Sometimes I thought he needed me just to warm his bed.”
