Both Jane and Elizabeth sighed heavily and exchanged brief sisterly glances.
Elizabeth spoke. “Mr Darcy, if I may extend a word of warning, let me beseech you to make sure the decision you would address truly does need my attention. I am, er, we are so beset by niggling, inconsequential details, which others can and should spare us; I fear my patience is not what it ought to be.
“Even your sister, sir, torments us. Dear Georgiana has very graciously offered to create our bridal bouquets, but she will quiz us as to every detail. All I want is for her to hand me the silly thing as I take Father’s arm.”
Jane nodded, “And you will not believe it, but I feel the same as my sister. I am to take breakfast at Netherfield this morning with Louisa. Lizzy has wisely suggested I walk to Netherfield and consented to join me for the journey. But she does not stay to breakfast since she will not soon be mistress of that house.”
Darcy bowed. “I shall continue my exercise, and if I may, Miss Elizabeth, I shall join you when you have left Miss Bennet at Netherfield.”
Elizabeth executed a gracious bow in return. “I will endeavour to regain my civility by then.”
The two sisters continued on their way as Darcy mounted his horse. Elizabeth turned to watch her betrothed riding away. He is a fine specimen of a man, she mused. “What Aunt Phillips says of him cannot possibly be true, Jane,” she said aloud. “She paints all men with the same brush, I fear. I know not how she comes by her information.”
Jane shook her head and rolled her eyes. “A fertile imagination and too much elderberry wine.”
Elizabeth took her sister’s arm as they walked. “Oh, Jane, I fear the trials of the wedding preparations are turning you into me!”
“Oh, yes. You will get no defence of her from me, Lizzy. Even our mother seemed shocked at the depths of her vulgarity.”
“The things she says about Mr Darcy do not shock me in the least. She means to scare me and titillate herself. I plan to avoid her assiduously from now until the wedding.”
“She does seem to take some strange thrill from talking of marital relations, Lizzy. It is unseemly. I shall follow your lead. We shall avoid her, or at least avoid being alone with her.”
* * *
Darcy returned his horse to the Netherfield stable and found Elizabeth awaiting him behind a hedgerow. He thought it might be the same place he had come upon her as she approached Netherfield to attend Jane almost a year earlier. Her skin was similarly aglow, but he was more entranced now as Elizabeth smiled and held out her hand. She was holding the ribbons of her winter bonnet in her other hand. The sisters had warmed themselves quite thoroughly with the pace of their walking, and Elizabeth had removed her gloves and bonnet when they were still a mile from Netherfield.
Upon one of Elizabeth’s fingers was the simple emerald ring set in gold he had given her a week after their betrothal. It was her birthstone.
“Feeling better?” Darcy asked, then bent over her extended hand, turned it over and gave her palm a reverent kiss. He felt the response he desired when she cupped her hand against his mouth with a throaty chuckle and stroked his cheek as he stood upright again. He held her hand at his face. Her eyes had the intelligent merriness that always left him enthralled. “Yes, I can see that you are.”
“After you and Mr Bingley departed last night, Jane and I found ourselves left alone with our Aunt Phillips. We have resolved between us not to allow such a circumstance to happen again before the wedding — or ever, as far as I am concerned.”
Darcy laughed. “I shall not quiz you as to the topic of her discourse. I can guess it easily enough.”
“Thank you, Mr Darcy.” They turned to begin their walk, and Darcy allowed Elizabeth’s hand to slip down his arm and rest in the crook of his elbow. “I think you and I might walk at a more leisurely pace than Jane and I set.” They strolled for some distance without speaking. Elizabeth was indeed returned to her usual equable spirits, ready to be pleased with Darcy and anything he might choose to say.
Darcy was lost in imagining the ribald tales and lurid speculations Elizabeth’s aunt must have imparted to most thoroughly discompose both Elizabeth and Jane. It would make the subject current in his own mind much more difficult to raise at present. He looked out over the brittle, cold fields of corn stubble, lately harvested for hay, musing over how he should approach the topic of their wedding night.
Elizabeth remembered Darcy mentioning a matter upon which he wished to consult her. “Mr Darcy, if I might interrupt your apparent reverie, I am reminded there was a subject you wished to speak of this morning.”
Darcy sighed heavily. She never forgets a thing…
His sigh was Elizabeth’s first clue that her betrothed was not in the same mood as she. She glanced up to his face, reading his countenance. “If you have changed your mind, sir, it is of no particular importance to me, whatever it was.” She tried to comfort him by embracing his arm more tightly, which, unbeknownst to her, had the opposite effect of the one she intended. The nearness of her body disquieted Darcy further.
“Elizabeth…” he began but then went silent, not knowing how to proceed.
“Yes?” Elizabeth grew concerned. She stopped and willed his eyes to meet hers. She tried a new tactic. “Yes, Fitzwilliam?” She addressed him by his given name for the first time and saw his eyes instantly soften.
He smiled. “Elizabeth. At last you are comfortable enough to speak my name? I am most pleased.”
Darcy bent his head to Elizabeth’s upturned face. Her lips were parted, and she closed her eyes as their mouths joined. But unlike their previous kisses, Darcy embraced her and clasped her acquiescent body completely against his. The evidence of his strength made Elizabeth dizzy. She raised her hands to his neck, in part to steady herself, and itched to run her hands through his hair, but his hat interfered. She firmly held his face to hers as her tongue sought his. She had been practicing such a manoeuvre in her mind, working up her courage to respond to him as she had longed to do since their betrothal. She pressed her bosom against his layers of coats. When the kiss ended, the embrace did not.
She smiled at him. He is very handsome, she mused to herself, but decided she would not say so. He looks as if he knows it well enough. She whispered instead, “If this is my reward for pleasing you, Fitzwilliam, I will be distracted for the rest of our walk with finding more ways to do so. My skills as a conversationalist will suffer.”
Darcy smiled, kissed her nose, chuckled, and kissed her lips again, even more ardently than before. Elizabeth felt the constriction in her chest she had come to equate with some manner of attachment to Darcy. The sensation caused her breathing to grow rapid and her bosom to ache in an odd combination of yearning and pleasure; in the present instance, a previously unfelt tension arose in the very pit of her stomach — or perhaps lower. The strength of her body’s response surprised her, and she ended the kiss gently and began to step backwards to create some distance between them.
As his hands withdrew from her back and waist, they hugged her ribs, and brushed the sides of her bosom with some pressure before dropping to his side. Will she chide me? Darcy wondered. How can I help but try her forbearance when I desire her so desperately? It is becoming more difficult to resist my inclinations. I must remind myself that she does not mean to be tempting; she simply is. He could not apprehend his impulses to both protect her innocence and discard it utterly at the same time.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened that such a liberty was attempted, her mouth forming an unspoken “oh!” of unguarded wonder. She most decidedly had not disliked the sensation of his hands near her breasts. She blushed and looked away, not daring to meet his eyes. He reads me too well. He will see that I am…what am I? Is this love? Please, she prayed, do not let him try my virtue. I do not trust myself.
“Elizabeth?” Darcy lowered his head and attempted to meet her gaze. “I love you. I hope you know that, if we are alone and you show me such affection as you have now, I will show mine
for you in return. It is not my intention to try your goodness, but you may as well know the depth of my desire. It is no very great secret, is it?”
She shook her head, her cheeks infused with a deeper shade of rose. “No,” she answered him quietly. “You are a man in love. You, I understand. It is myself I cannot follow.”
“And that, dearest Elizabeth, is why I will hold myself in check. I would have you come to understand this aspect of love once we are husband and wife, that there will be nothing to concern you. After we are wed, we will both be free to concentrate upon your feelings…sensations, on…” Darcy stammered, realizing the nature of the conversation aroused him even as he sought to calm her. He understood the folly of trying to explain what she was experiencing; the effort was enticing to him and confusing to her.
“Pleasing you?” She was embarrassed but not so much as to not take pity on his agitation. Just last night, Aunt Phillips admonished Elizabeth and Jane to make every attempt to learn what was pleasing to their husbands, but could expect no pleasure themselves. She said ladies ought not to show physical enjoyment to their husbands as it only increased their demands. “If they have lascivious tendencies or attempt to be at you all the time, discourage them and let them take mistresses,” she cautioned. Even Mrs Bennet could not listen to such notions and mentioned the lateness of the hour, calling, a little more shrilly than usual, for her sister’s carriage to be brought.
“Pleasing yourself, Elizabeth. If you are well pleased, then you will always welcome me, and then I will be pleased.”
His eyes were gentle and concerned. She believed him to be completely sincere. She had never heard him speak to her in so earnest a tone. Surely, Aunt Phillips is wrong. What does she know of the heart of Fitzwilliam Darcy? That mystery is for me to solve and me alone. Elizabeth smiled wanly. “I do not understand except that you love me, and I expect I will understand after we are married.”
“Ah,” Darcy sighed. He took her arm and they started walking. “That leads me to the topic on my mind this morning. Have you given any thought to where we should go after the wedding? Let me acquaint you with our several choices. I know you love travel, and it is my fondest wish to take you on a grand tour and show you the Lakes as the Gardiners, thankfully, could not. But this is not the season for travel. Prudence dictates a proper honeymoon should wait until spring. So what should we do?”
Elizabeth’s blushes grew fierce. She thought her cheeks and chest would ignite. “I am sorry to admit, sir, I have given the matter little thought.”
Darcy glanced down at her nervously and noted the colour of her right cheek, which was all he could see. Elizabeth abruptly donned her bonnet, tied it securely under her chin before he could do it for her and quickened her pace.
“Bingley has invited us to stay on at Netherfield, at least for the first night. That would not be my preference, but if you would be comforted to be near Jane, I will, of course, acquiesce.”
Elizabeth thought she would not be comforted in that instance but said nothing.
A little daunted by her silence, Darcy continued. “We might go to the house in London, but you have not been there before, and if we stayed longer than a week, we would be in danger of having to make and receive calls, which would not please me. I own I do not expect to be willing to share my Mrs Darcy with the world quite so soon. We have been too much in company already.”
Elizabeth still said nothing, although she agreed with him.
“The last choice is to make for Pemberley as soon as may be after the wedding. I will not lie: I long to take you home as my wife more than anything I have ever wanted in my whole life. But that would mean our first night, our wedding night, would be spent at an inn. Have you any thoughts on the matter?”
Elizabeth kept her eyes on the path ahead, but lowered her chin in an involuntary show of diffidence. “I did not know it to be common practice, sir, for brides to be consulted on such matters.”
“Perhaps I have learnt better than other bridegrooms, Elizabeth. I would not presume to decide this alone, although in April, I might have done.”
She nodded. “No, you are not like other men, or I would not love you, and we would certainly not be betrothed.” Darcy chuckled. She continued, musing aloud, “At least if we go to London, it is Darcy House, and not an inn…but I would like to get to Pemberley.” She stumbled and reached for Darcy’s arm, which quickly encircled her waist to steady her. He pulled her to him. I find myself in his arms again. She paused, trying without much success to catch her breath. She gave great study to the button of his great coat at the middle of his chest.
Darcy found himself speaking to her bonnet. “This morning, I had an idea that might serve us well, but it will require your agreement. What if we postpone the…” How do I say this to her? “…union of, uh, the consummation…” Just get on with it, man. Say it with conviction. “…consummation until our second night together once we have reached Pemberley? It makes the travel arduous, with few stops except to change horses. It will mean even more to me if we are ensconced at home. Would it be too odd? I would not have you think I do not desire you; it is your comfort I would ensure.”
Elizabeth’s first response was relief. Unlike Jane, she would have a day to adjust to having a husband without the pressure of what most maidens approach with a sense of impending dread. She did not fancy beginning their intimate relations in a strange place. What if he means to unclothe me? What if the event is noisy, as with my sister and Wickham? Better to be at Pemberley. What if the roads are in poor condition and it takes more than one night to reach home?
“Home,” she murmured as she pondered the implications of his suggestion. He seems more impatient in his demands today. Will he be able to wait?
Darcy smiled a little, deepening his dimples. “Home, is it? Are you decided?”
“You are willing to wait for my sake?” Her eyes met his, all seriousness.
Darcy could read her relief immediately in her now upturned face. He smiled more fully. “I promise you I will wait one night, but one night only, Elizabeth. It may be we reach Pemberley in the middle of the second night, and if that is the case, you will not have been home two hours before we are truly made husband and wife.” He noticed Elizabeth eyes widen and her colour deepen. “If the weather turns against us and the roads are bad, I will not wait further. If we find ourselves at an inn on our second night, I cannot vouch for my character.”
“Then I shall begin praying for calm weather, sir, and swift horses.” She smiled a little.
Darcy kissed her nose and inhaled the scent of lavender as she looked up. “It delights me that you speak of Pemberley as home,” he murmured.
They turned and continued their walk, returning to Longbourn.
* * *
Thursday, 26 November, 1812
Elizabeth awoke on the morning of her wedding with fluttering in her stomach, the existence of which she would have been loath to admit. She rolled to face the other bed in the room, and from across the length of a yard separating them, saw her sister’s blue eyes blink open. Jane immediately blushed.
“Did you sleep?” Elizabeth whispered.
“I think I did a little, just now. And you, Lizzy?”
“The same for me. I could not will myself to sleep by any means. I hope my eyes will not have circles.”
Jane smiled. “You will be beautiful, Lizzy. Everyone remarks on how pretty you are now that you are in love.”
Elizabeth sat up, dubious. “Do they? I find it hard to believe.”
“You never could take a compliment to your looks with any grace, you know,” Jane chided her gently. “What do you say when Mr Darcy compliments you?”
“I say nothing. In fact, I usually kiss him to stop him speaking such nonsense.”
“Lizzy!” Jane laughed nervously, but was not as shocked as she sounded. She was in the habit of kissing Bingley and believed Elizabeth allowed Darcy the same liberty. Jane smiled.
Her outburst alerted th
eir maid, Sarah, that the brides were awake, and she entered the room. On this most special morning, the sisters were allowed to bathe in their bedchamber, the metal tub having been brought up the night before, and Jane, as the eldest, was to be first. She had just settled into the water when Mrs Hill tapped on their door. Elizabeth peeked out and then admitted her.
Mrs Hill was as radiant as any bride, so delighted was she with the happy turn of events. “Two packages from Netherfield for you.”
Elizabeth took them and bid Mrs Hill, who had turned to leave, to stay and see them opened.
Jane leaned her arms out of the tub and dried her hands on some towelling. Elizabeth handed her the one addressed by Bingley’s sloppy hand. Elizabeth’s was addressed by the strong precise letters of Fitzwilliam Darcy, and saying his name to herself caused the jolt in her chest that still surprised her with its violence.
Inside both packages were smaller parcels. Jane’s contained a simple pair of coral and pearl earrings to match the coral beads she would wear with her gown. Elizabeth’s gift from Darcy was similar to Jane’s, but the pearls were set with garnets, to match the garnet cross her father had given her when she turned sixteen. This had been her only piece of jewellery until the emerald ring from Darcy.
The sisters smiled. “We are well matched, Jane,” Elizabeth chuckled, “in every particular. I see Georgiana’s hand in this. These are exactly the sort of little details she would notice.”
In spite of the dithering and fluster of Mrs Bennet, Mr Bennet and his two eldest daughters left for the Longbourn church precisely on time. The trip was less than two hundred yards on foot, but was made longer by Mrs Bennet insisting father and daughters arrive at the church in a carriage, which could not follow the footpath. Elizabeth would have preferred the walk but made no argument.
After the ceremony, Elizabeth had little memory of what transpired. As she sat at the wedding breakfast, she could recall her father’s kiss on her forehead as he arranged himself between his daughters for the processional. She could remember the solemnity in Darcy’s eyes as he turned to face her, which he seemed to do more slowly than Bingley did to Jane. Elizabeth felt herself grow solemn, but just as they were turning away from each other towards the minister, Darcy winked ever so slightly. Elizabeth smiled, and smiled throughout the remainder of the ceremony. She remembered hoping she looked serene; she remembered the fragrance of the white jasmine sent from the Pemberley glass houses for her to carry; she remembered the sound of Darcy’s voice as he said, “I will,” in a way that made her heart race. When they reached the vestibule of the church, Darcy stopped their forward progress behind Jane and Bingley to take some leaves of lavender and a red chrysanthemum from his pocket and tuck them into the corner of her neckline with a soft caress, saying only, “From me.” As they signed the registry, she could barely breathe.
The Red Chrysanthemum Page 27
