by Ola Wegner
“And I began falling in love with you. You cannot imagine how relieved I felt when you left Netherfield with Jane. I was afraid that if you stayed a day or two longer, I would simply pin you against some convenient bookshelf or wall, and you know what would have happened.”
Elizabeth looked at him innocently, fluttering her long eyelashes. “I cannot imagine your meaning, sir.”
She looked at him expectantly and squeaked joyfully when he pinned her to the bed, her hands imprisoned by his over her head.
A contented sigh escaped her when he started to kiss the already familiar path down her body.
Elizabeth lifted herself on her elbows, marvelling at his delighted expression as he stared at her exposed bosom. It crossed her mind that he did not look particularly adult like at the moment. He resembled quite a bit her six year old cousin, Peter, at a candy store.
Darcy drew the sheet lower, uncovering more of her, but Elizabeth stopped him.
“No,” she said, pulling the sheet up.
Darcy looked at her with concern. “Have I hurt you that much?”
“No, you have not.”
“So what is the matter then, sweetheart?”
“I do not wish for you to see me,” she admitted. “Earlier we were under covers, so you could not see too much.”
“Lizzy, I understand you are shy with me. It is all very new for you, and you have the right to feel apprehensive, but there is nothing wrong that we cannot see each other without our clothes.”
“It is not that I am shy with you. Not that much, at least.”
“No?”
She shook her head, her fingers playing with his chest hair.
“Lizzy…”
“I do not wish you to look at my fat thighs and big bottom,” she confessed, hiding her eyes from him.
“Of what are you speaking ?” Darcy cried unbelievably, cupping her face, making her look at him.
“I know how I am built. Short and chunky. Not to mention endowed with a bosom twice big as most women of my acquaintance. If not for all that walking, I would be as round as Lady Lucas. I always wanted to look more like Jane, tall, slender and willowy, or like Miss Bingley…”
“Miss Bingley!” Darcy spluttered. “Elizabeth, do not ever suggest such a thing. Caroline Bingley! You want me to have nightmares? I adore your body. You are perfect to me soft and curvy, with so many places a man can find comfort. And you have the most perfect breasts in the world.”
“Perhaps, but they are protruding too much.”
Darcy grinned at her. “I love how they protrude.”
“But, William, you do not know how it is when gentlemen do not look into your face, but lower, and how mortifying it is when your mother insists you wear such low cut gowns. I have always asked her to make them more covered at the front, but in vain. She insisted every time we went to the seamstress.”
“Well, I must say her tactic worked with me.”
“You are horrible!” She smacked him on the chest. “One good side of being married is certainly that you can wear whatever you wish.”
“Well, Lizzy, let us make agreement. You shall have some dresses to be seen only by me, and the others for the world. I do not wish anyone ogling what is legally mine.”
Elizabeth huffed with exasperation. “William, they are just breasts; and I know very well my body is very imperfect.”
“Lizzy, your body is perfect to me, and that should be enough for you. I do not wish to hear this nonsense anymore,” Darcy spoke firmly, at the same time arranging her so she lay on her tummy.
He moved his hand over her body from the dip of her waist through the curve of her bottom to her thighs.
“Perfect.”
Highly mortified, Elizabeth hid her face in the pillow; but when he started to nibble gently on the skin of her backside, the soft chuckles started to escape her.
Seeing her reaction, Darcy doubled his efforts, biting her bottom lightly and blowing noisy raspberries onto it. Soon, Elizabeth was giggling so hard she could not catch her breath.
At last he drew her back into his arms and arranged her comfortably against his side. “Now, go to sleep. You must be tired. This has been a long day.”
“Yes, the wedding, our first fight, well, as a married couple at least, and our first time together,” she counted on her fingers.
“A fight over hair length,” Darcy chuckled, but then went serious. “About the first time… Are you truly all well?”
“Yes,” she said sleepily, closing her eyes.
***
Four days later, Darcy was sitting on the bench in a spare room at his fencing club, breathing harshly. That morning, Elizabeth had literally pushed him out the door to go to his fencing club, saying they could not possibly stay abed till midday for many days longer, and that some exercise and a change of scenery would do him good. He tried to convince her that he was getting enough exercise with her, but she was adamant.
“Darcy,… Here you are.” The tall red head dropped next to him on the bench. “What is the matter, man? I have not managed to beat you since our first year at Oxford.”
Darcy shrugged his shoulders dismissively. “I have simply not had an opportunity to practice lately.”
“Oh, come on! There are only two better fencers in England, to my knowledge. George Wickham and that cousin of yours, the colonel, but he is professional soldier, so it does not count. And as for, Wickham, have you heard that he was dismissed disciplinarily from the militia?”
Darcy looked at the other man, a serious expression upon his face. “No, I have not. Do you know the details?”
“No, I have not asked. But you know him; you can imagine the reasons. My opinion is that he should be locked, or degraded and sent to the West Indies as a private. It is not even that he likes gambling and women. He is sick. I feel guilty when I think we did not do enough when in Oxford to lock him.”
“There was no proof.”
“But perhaps if we had pressed him that time.”
Darcy shrugged. “He denied everything.”
The other man stood abruptly and started pacing the room agitatedly. “Darcy, my niece is the age of the girl he raped. Every time I visit my sister and I see Becky running to show me her latest drawing, that girl always stands in front of my eyes; or rather what was left of her when he finished with her. Good God! She was barely thirteen!”
Darcy lowered his head. “I know, I think about the same. I feel as well that I have not done enough to put an end to his wickedness.”
There was a moment of silence between men before Darcy received a sound slap on his shoulder. “But let us not talk about such sad matters! You are a newly married, I hear. You know, I think I know the reason for your poor form. Tell me, is it your young wife which has worn you out so much? Country girl, I heard... Do not glare at me like that. So when am I to meet her?”
“Not soon. She is still in mourning after her father, and we go to Derbyshire in a few days,” Darcy said, standing up from the bench and removing his soaked shirt.
“So I was right. No wonder you have little energy for fencing,” the other man said laughingly, looking pointedly at Darcy’s back.
Darcy looked over at his lower back where the red scratches from Elizabeth’s nails were visibly printed.
“Oh, bagger off, Wakefield,” Darcy cried brusquely, quickly pulling on his clean shirt.
“Has she got sisters? Perhaps you could introduce me? Marriage to such a woman must not be as bad as I have always perceived it to be.”
Chapter Fourteen
Darcy finished his conversation with his coachman, settling with him that the carriage should be ready the next morning at nine.
Had he been travelling on his own, he would have appointed a much earlier hour for sure, but with his sister and wife accompanying him, things were different.
He did not want to tire the ladies, no matter how much they assured him that they were not exhausted. He knew better; they were women, so they were na
turally weaker than men. Moreover, they were under his care, and he loved them both most in the world, so there was really no discussion as to providing them with the best possible comfort during the travel.
He had planned the journey from London to Derbyshire carefully, choosing the most comfortable inns for the night’s rest.
Now at the end of the first day of their trip, he was climbing the stairs, his heart beating slightly faster in anticipation that in a moment, he would open the door and find his lovely wife of eight days waiting for him in bed in just her nightclothes or, perhaps, already without them.
He was ashamed to admit it, but though he had always found great joy in travelling with his sister, now as a married man, he felt some drawbacks of this situation. With Georgiana accompanying them, he could not indulge himself in certain activities during the dull hours in the carriage with his lovely and lively wife. Even more, he anticipated their night alone.
He opened the door, perfectly aware of the silly grin plastered on his face, but there was no lively and lovely wife waiting for him.
There was evidence that she had certainly been in the room.
With her new maid having been sent to Pemberley a day earlier, she had already managed to change the room completely, imprinting her unique personality on it.
Her trunk stood wide open in the middle of the room with a few dresses and some petticoats half drawn from it. Her half boots, which she had worn today were dropped dismissively next to it.
She must have been undressing herself next to the bed as now the most of if it was covered with her dress, stays, stockings, pantaloons (the garment which he had learned to dislike very much), gloves and bonnet. On top of it all were the book she was reading, the silver hairbrush he had bought her on their first walk as a married couple, and her reticule.
When she had told him before the wedding that she was untidy, he had truly not realized the extent of the problem. She was messy, this wife of his, and his well organized self gradually started to rebel against it. He still felt elated that he had gained the access to this intimate world of hers, but at the same time, he could not comprehend how she could function in such disorder every day.
It was not his intention to subdue her liveliness, but he could not stop himself from making some remarks concerning her messy ways. For example, two nights previously, he had found her in their bed reading a book and eating chocolate cookies from a paper bag.
He had lectured her very gently that it was very unhealthy to eat after dinner, for the teeth especially, and also that it was not good for her eyes to read in bed, with just a small candle on the bedside.
Moreover, he had pointed out to her that it was rather uncomfortable to sleep with crumbs all over the bed. She had not commented on his remarks, but had given him the look, and he was almost sure he heard her murmuring the bore.
Closing the book soundly, she had scrambled out of bed. She had put the book on the nearby table, but as for the cookies, they went with her into her dressing room. Had she been afraid he would have eaten her cookies? Perhaps it was the result of living with four sisters for so many years?
The sound of wild and prolonged giggling drew him from his thoughts. It was coming from the adjacent room. He should have guessed she was with Georgiana. He smiled to himself, hearing another wave of giggling. He decided to wash himself now and perhaps shave. Elizabeth had such delicate skin, he did not want to leave burns on her body like the last time. He expected she should be back when he finished.
When he come back twenty minutes later, towelling his still damp hair, to his great disappointed, his wife was still not present in the bed, but he heard the giggling again.
He walked out into the corridor and knocked decidedly on the door to Georgiana’s room.
“Enter.”
They were cuddled together on the bed, both already in their nightclothes.
Georgiana started to speak excitedly. “Oh, Brother, Elizabeth has just been telling me…”
Darcy interrupted her gently but firmly. “Yes, dearest, I am sure it is very important and amusing, but we have to get up early in the morning.”
“But we are not tired, Brother. We have slept in the carriage.”
That was true, just after the first change of horses, he had ended up with both of them draped on either side of him, sleeping soundly.
“Even so, I think it is high time to go to bed, young ladies,” he tried to sound stern, but the effect of his speech was not quite what he had intended, because they began to chuckle, trying to muffle it with their hands over their mouths.
He decided that he had created two monsters. He had spoiled them too much for his own good, and now he had to bear the consequences.
“Brother, cannot Elizabeth stay with me tonight?” Georgiana pleaded.
Darcy frowned. “Certainly not. Neither of you will have a minute of decent sleep. Elizabeth.” He extended his hand. “Come.”
He saw Elizabeth rolling her eyes and winking at Georgiana, but he decided to ignore it to preserve at least some of his dignity.
“Good night, Sister,” he said, nodding his head.
“Good night, Brother,” Georgiana replied, smiling back at him.
Already in their room, Elizabeth began gathering her things from their bed. Darcy was pleasantly surprised that she clearly intended to clean the mess she had made. His expression fell when he saw her throwing everything into her open trunk, before removing her slippers and climbing into the bed.
He blew out the candles and slipped into the bed beside her, spooning behind her small form.
“William, what are you doing?” Elizabeth whispered after a moment.
“You cannot tell?” Darcy murmured his hand moved actively under the covers.
Elizabeth slapped his hand, which already managed to wander in the vicinity of her upper thigh, under her nightgown.
“You are unwell?” Darcy asked with concern. “Have I… done something which hurt you? I know that last night… perhaps, I was too…”
“No, I am all right, but we cannot do it here.”
“Why?”
“How can you ask? Georgiana.”
“What about Georgiana? She is not here with us.” Darcy began rubbing himself against Elizabeth’s bottom.
“She is the next room, and those walls are very thin. She will hear everything.”
“We will be very quiet,” Darcy murmured, his hand again going under her nightgown.
Elizabeth stopped his hand on her navel. “What about the bed? It is squeaking.”
Darcy rolled on his back. “Lizzy, you cannot be serious.”
“But I am. I could not look poor Georgiana in the eye tomorrow. Moreover, I would not be able to relax, knowing she may hear something. Good night.” She gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek and scooted away from him to the far edge of the bed.
They were lying silently like that for some time when Darcy’s pitiful voice was heard. “Lizzy,…”
She sighed heavily and rolled back into his arms. “Just an embrace,” she stated firmly when he pulled her partially on top of his body, tucking her under his chin, kissing the top of her head.
“William!”she whispered feeling his erect manhood poking at the side of her stomach.
Darcy moved restlessly. “I cannot help it.”
Elizabeth lifted herself slightly, her arms supported on his chest. “Perhaps I could, you know, do the same you do to me, touch you there?”
“Lizzy?” He glanced at her unbelievably.
“You know…” She moved her palm down his body, placing it lightly on his shirt covered manhood. The moment she touched him he moaned audibly.
“Be quiet and do not move,” she seethed.
“I will,… I will, but do not stop,” he rasped.
Elizabeth tugged at his nightshirt. Darcy sat up in the bed to remove it. Still sitting, he caught her lips with his, his hands covering her breasts. Elizabeth broke the kiss and pushed him decidedly on his back. She snug
gled next to him, then began placing delicate kisses on his throat and chest. At the same time, she wrapped her fingers gently around his manhood.
“Am I doing it right, William?” she asked, stroking. “Is it pleasurable for you?”
“Oh, God, Elizabeth…” he gasped, squeezing his eyes. “I cannot…”
She kissed the dimple in his throat. “Show me what you like.”
Darcy’s hand joined hers under the covers. He covered her small palm with his, guiding it, showing her what to do.
“Harder,” he breathed, and Elizabeth complied.
His breathing grew more laboured, his arm pressing her to him. His fist in his mouth, he tried to muffle his grunts as he spent himself in her hand.
Elizabeth kissed his cheek and scrambled out of bed. She trotted to the washstand and wet the towel. She returned to the bed, sitting on the edge of it. She washed him the best she could, then dropped the towel on the nearest chair and slipped into the bed, snuggling to his side.
Darcy’s arm went lazily around her. He found her hand, and lifting it to his lips, kissed it. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
“You are welcome,” she whispered, closing her eyes.
***
Mrs. Reynolds stood in front of the main entrance of Pemberley manor. The rest of the house servants were gathered behind her in a well ordered row, according to their rank. She glanced back last time at everyone, making sure that everyone looked as they should, and again she stared back at the road.
They should be have been there already. She had received a message a few minutes prior, saying they had left Lambton nearly three quarters of an hour before now.
“At last,” she whispered to herself when the carriage appeared at the turn of the road.
Mrs. Reynolds felt her heart flutter. She was afraid of this young woman, the new Mrs. Darcy. For the last months, every letter from Master William had mentioned her name several times. The number of things which came for her personal use from London in the last months: books, landscape paintings, furniture, a new pianoforte, a completely new wardrobe; it was almost outrageous.
