The Red Chrysanthemum

by Linda Beutler

  Elizabeth looked away from him with an impatient toss of her head. “I do not know where to begin!” She felt at a distinct disadvantage and woefully ill informed. “I do not know the words to use to frame the questions…”

  Darcy took a step closer, longing to begin exploring her. He spoke in a low voice, “Perhaps I should start. What have you been told?”

  She took a deep breath and looked up at him. There were tears of frustration forming in her eyes. “I do not like what I have been told; it does not seem right. After last night, it certainly does not make any sense. I am confused and impatient with myself for being so silly.”

  Darcy quite understood the tears poised on her eyelashes were formed from vexation rather than fear. Perhaps he could work her annoyance at her ignorance to his advantage; perhaps he could make her laugh again. If she is most relaxed when she is laughing at me, so be it. He stepped closer and held out a hand, which she took after staring at it a moment as if it were the head of a venomous lizard. He drew her forward until her breasts were just an inch from his chest. Her nipples had become obvious points under the gossamer satin.

  One corner of his mouth tipped up as he asked, “Have you been told just to lie there and submit to whatever I may choose to do to you?”

  She smiled ruefully. “Yes, exactly. But that is not what you indicated would be expected. And you do not seem to be that sort of man.”

  “What sort of man would that be, Lizzy?” He put his hands on her waist. She felt fit and strong and did not shy away from being held so intimately.

  “The sort of man who would be content with that sort of wife.”

  “And what sort of wife would that be?” He rested his forehead on hers.

  “A timid wife.” She looked down, feeling bashful.

  “I do not imagine I have saddled myself with a timid wife. If I have, if I am mistaken in you, then I am bundling you back to Longbourn before we are alone one minute more, for I will make a very grave error indeed if I consummate a marriage to a timid wife.” He tried without much success to sound grave. “You are not one, are you?” His question was accusing, but he was smiling.

  “Indeed, I hope not. I do not intend to be timid, but I do not know what is allowed.” She looked imploringly into his eyes.

  How adorable, he thought. “You made a declaration of sorts by dispensing with the ghastly dressing gown, so we know your instincts are sound. Perhaps, when in doubt of acting upon your inclinations, you might ask yourself what a timid wife would do and behave contrariwise.”

  This finally produced a chuckle from his bride. He is teasing me! They looked fondly into each other’s eyes, and Darcy decided it was now safe to kiss her. He raised her soft chin with a finger and kissed her very thoroughly. He felt her hands grasp his sleeves, and her mouth responded to his with every bit of the enthusiasm she had shown in the carriage. He drove his hands into her hair, as he had been longing to do since seeing her arrive dishevelled at Netherfield so many months before. The memory of her tumbling hair, high colour and defiant spirits never left him, and he knew he had been a simpleton to think it ever would. He kissed her earlobes, whispering, “Have I told you I have always admired your lovely hair?” Then he kissed her cheeks and closed eyes, and turning her head gently with her hair, kissed her mouth again. Finally, he pulled away. She was glowing a little, her breathing quick and shallow.

  “Here’s my suggestion. I shall show you what I expect of you and what I desire, and then you can decide for yourself what sort of man I am.”

  Elizabeth was breathless. His kisses caused an unfolding feeling within her. She nodded up at him, too awed by her body’s response to speak. There was a heat and moisture between her legs that confounded her, and from her breasts, she discerned the most fervent desire for his touch as if his hands would relieve their strange ache.

  “But you must promise me this, Lizzy, that as I touch you, you must let me know if I do something you like particularly, and conversely, you must speak immediately if you find yourself alarmed. I would not have you afraid of me. Will you tell me? Both the good and the bad?”

  His eyes were intense. She saw he was serious and found her voice. “Yes, sir.” Darcy started to protest, and she corrected herself. “Yes, Fitzwilliam, I will tell you what pleases me. But what of you?”

  “Me?”

  “I am your wife. I am here only for your pleasure, or so I have been instructed.” She seemed uncharacteristically solemn.

  Darcy looked into her eyes and laughed gently. “Who on earth told you such nonsense? I assure you, if I can give you pleasure, it will go a long way to ensuring my own. If I can persuade the famously difficult-to-impress Miss Elizabeth Bennet, when she is in this room as my wife, to give herself over to physical sensation and become the wanton Lizzy of my dreams, I shall count myself as having married very well indeed.” One hand untangled from her hair and slid slowly to the small of her back.

  Her eyes widened and her mouth formed an “oh,” which Darcy kissed. Moving away from her mouth, he began kissing down her neck slowly, tasting her at each point with the tip of his tongue between his warm lips. He pulled her body more firmly against his.

  “You are warm,” she murmured. Her arms found their way under his and wrapped around him.

  “Is that good?” He continued his kisses until his lips reached the fabric at her shoulder.

  “Yes. Everything so far is very good.”

  “I am relieved to hear it.” He smiled against her skin.

  She felt Darcy’s hands caressing her backside through the nightgown, and he moaned in approbation. With agonizing slowness, his hands travelled up her back and down the front of her shoulders, reaching the first tie of her nightgown. He untied it and folded the limp fabric away from her collarbone.

  Elizabeth inhaled and raised her chin in a little show of bravery. He was watching her eyes for any sign of misapprehension, and he was charmed to see, instead, the typical summoning of her courage.

  “You intend to undress me?”

  “I do indeed, madam, whenever I get the chance, but you must own you are not much dressed at present.” His hands settled lower, at the next tie at the top of her cleavage. “If you did not wish me to see you, you should not have lit every candle in the room. You should rather have jumped under the counterpane and hidden yourself. That is what a timid wife would have done.”

  She smiled a little and looked up from under her lashes. “I wanted you to see me in this nightgown. I thought it would please you.”

  “Indeed, it does.” He slowly pulled the second bow apart.

  “But what if I do not look so well without it?”

  “That, Elizabeth, is a question not worth answering.” Darcy was enraptured. With his face buried in her hair, he untied the final bow, just below her breasts. He reached for her sleeves, and pulled the silk down to her elbows, then stretched his hands so his thumbs brushed her still-covered nipples. She gasped.

  “Bad?” He pulled away enough to see her face. Have I gone too fast?

  Elizabeth looked down at his hands poised over her breasts and drew in a deep breath. “No,” she murmured. “Not bad.” It is as if his fingers burn me, yet I want…I want to feel his hands on my skin. Surely, a timid wife would not feel so… Oh, I am lost. She slid the fabric down further out of his hands, revealing her bosom to him, and pulled her arms from the gown, which settled to hang about her hips. She looked up see his reaction.

  His eyes were alight in admiration of her naked breasts. Her nipples were rosy brown, a natural colour he had never seen before. I should have guessed as much; a country maiden of no experience would not colour herself. Thank goodness I will not have to endure the taste of rouge. He unconsciously licked his lips.

  Elizabeth nearly swooned at the notion of his mouth upon her…there, where his eyes are looking. She took his hands in hers and placed one on each breast. “Better.”

  “Better?” He began stroking and cupping them, pleased with her daring
.

  “Better than being stared at…” she muttered. “Oh, my… Oh, Fitzwilliam.” His hands inspired feelings more intense than anything she had ever experienced or expected.

  “You should know, Lizzy, looking at you is very…stimulating. You are exquisite.” Darcy was watching what his hands were doing, his erection growing adamant.

  She closed her eyes. Never had she felt such rushes of sensation. The more he touched her, the more she craved he would continue. Her chest warmed, and she placed her hands over his, urging him to caress her with more vigour. He began rolling her nipples between his fingers. “That is exquisite,” she murmured.

  “I must compliment you. You are not timid in the least,” he whispered into her ear. His warm breath on her bare neck released a frisson of pleasure; he felt it move through her.

  “So you will keep me, Mr Darcy?”

  “Thus far I am most pleased, but we shall see…” His dimples deepened when he saw the smoke of desire enter her eyes.

  He kissed her deeply as she reached up to place her hands upon his neck. When their lips parted, she whispered, “May I touch you?”

  “Of course. Please indulge any passing curiosity that occurs to you. I am yours to do with as you wish, just as you are mine.”

  Darcy became dizzy when she pulled the shawl collar of his robe apart, and moved his hands off her breasts, pressing her body to his chest and resting her cheek upon him. He could feel her panting breath in his chest hair. Her hands travelled inside his robe, along his muscled ribs, and stroked his back.

  Darcy bent one knee, pushing apart the overlap of his robe, and slowly rubbed his bare thigh between her legs. She moaned, pushing her secret place against him. He felt her knees buckle, and his hands went to her waist, holding her upright. “Fitzwilliam!” she cried softly. She looked at him wordlessly, her mouth open to voice a question that would not come.

  “Lizzy?”

  Her eyes closed. Darcy began pulling up the skirt of her nightgown with one hand while the other returned to her breasts.

  “Fitzwilliam! I want…” she cried. She writhed against him. She could not feel enough, nor separate the sensations from her breasts and the heated place between her legs. Her torso ached.

  “Tell me what you want, dearest Lizzy.” Darcy’s voice held a note of insinuation as if he knew exactly what she wanted.

  “I only know I want…”

  Darcy’s hand reached her derrière and stroked her, fearing he would spend himself, for her skin was softer than the silk of her gown. She was every bit as he had dreamt: lush, firm, and warm. As he bathed before joining her, he had gratified himself as he heard some men did before meeting their lovers in order to prolong lovemaking, but now he felt sure the exercise had done him no good. He drew in a deep breath and tried to restore his control even as he searched for new sensations for Elizabeth. She pulled her hips back from his thigh, as if to meet the hand behind her. When he slipped two fingers into the place she had pressed to his leg, massaging the little ridge of moist tender flesh where her desire was centred, the shock of the touch drew from Elizabeth the response he promised himself she should feel before he took any pleasure for himself.

  Elizabeth’s head lolled back, her hands clasping the collar of his robe, and the rest of her rocked with a shudder of met desires. “Fitzwilliam, Fitzwilliam…” she murmured his name repeatedly, but he did not think she knew what she said. Darcy gazed at her adoringly. Her chest and breasts were an enchanting rosy pink.

  Elizabeth lifted her head, and started to rouse from the wave of pleasure that had engulfed her and now ebbed away. She opened her eyes and met his loving smile. “Was that supposed to happen?” Her face was suffused with wonder.

  Darcy did not answer her directly. “I have never in my life seen anything so beautiful as my dearest Elizabeth discovering passion. My darling, darling Lizzy!” He embraced her as tightly as he could.

  “So that is a yes? You meant for that to happen?”

  Darcy laughed, still holding her as if she might evaporate, his cheek against the top of her head. “I was not sure it would happen; I only hoped it would.”

  They stood in each other’s arms quietly for a few moments. “So, as I understand it, what I just felt, a timid wife would not feel?”

  “No, a timid wife would not allow herself such an indulgence, and the sort of man she would marry would not care whether she felt such sensations or not.”

  “Poor, timid wife…” Elizabeth smiled and looked up at Darcy. He had a look of relief on his face that surprised her. “Were you worried?”

  He shook his head a little. “In truth, I am still worried. There are many ways I can give you this pleasure, now I know you will allow it of yourself, but I fear when we completely join together, it may give you pain, at least the first time, and I do, with all my heart, want you to welcome me when we are alone together. You know I have been with courtesans, Lizzy, and have some experience.”

  She blushed. “I know it for a certainty now. It is common, I understand, for men to learn of such things before marriage.”

  Darcy nodded. “But this is your first time, and I have not been…a maiden’s…a lady’s deflowerer before.”

  Elizabeth laughed nervously. “Deflowerer? Is that a word?”

  Darcy cleared his throat. “My hope is that, if I can seduce you into a moment of extreme sensation and time my actions accordingly, you would feel passion and not pain when…well.”

  “Wait. Let me hear you rightly. Through your manipulations of my person, you may bring about these extreme sensations within me whenever you like? Now you have done it once, you may do it again? And there are different ways to arouse these feelings in me?”

  Darcy looked into her eyes, which were alive with flickering candlelight. “Yes, as many times as you and I may manage, whenever we are alone.”

  Her countenance became almost feral. “Oh, it is I who has married well, Mr Darcy, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with estates or gowns or pin money. Let us get to the bed! I almost fainted the first time.”

  Darcy was laughing as she pulled him by the sleeve, clutching her nightgown around her waist with the other hand. He sat and pulled her between his legs, turning her back to him. His hands loosened the nightgown over her hips and sent it slithering to the floor. Presented with her naked derriere, he informed her she was just as exquisite from the back view as the front, excepting he could not see her eyes, and began kissing the small of her back. Slowly he turned her until he was kissing her navel. The scent rising from between her legs was exhilarating: lavender and something womanly. He sat upright and looked up into Elizabeth’s face. She had the entranced countenance he had seen when he fondled her breasts.

  Her nipples were just above his mouth. He pulled her closer and kissed the undersides of her breasts; again, her breath grew shallow.

  “Oh, oh. Fitzwilliam,” she murmured urgently.

  “Lizzy?”

  “Please?”

  He smiled. “Please? What desire has made you so polite?”

  She turned slightly and pressed a nipple into his mouth. “Ah!” she cried rather more loudly than Darcy expected. He suckled noisily and felt his manly organ emerge from his robe. Her hands tousled his hair, pressing his face into her bosom.

  “Oh! Oh, I love you!” she cried. She had no other words to express her joy. He changed breasts and drew the second nipple into his mouth. “I love you! Fitzwilliam…”

  He could not resist teasing her and pulled away, delighted that her eyes were full of astonishment. “Good?” he asked.

  “One is hesitant…” she paused, gasping, “to bestow too much praise upon so excessively proud a man…but ‘good’ is a mean and paltry little word for you, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

  He started to laugh, but Elizabeth, overcome with the sight of his mouth at her breast, bumped her left nipple into his mouth and begged again, “Please?”

  As he licked and tugged at her, he untied his robe. Holding Eliz
abeth to his face with one arm around her waist, he approached the cleft between her legs with his other hand. She was moist, and as he rubbed the centre of her sensations, she collapsed against him, crying his name loud enough, he was sure, to alarm the servants. Her cries enflamed him. He slowly moved his hand until he could tentatively extend a finger inside her, and although he could sense where her maidenhead was, it was not so tight that he felt his finger would harm her. He felt a release of moisture upon his hand as he pushed with one finger. She inhaled sharply, but did not exhale. Her hand released his hair and followed his arm to its end, where his finger was within her, and her hand pressed him deeper. She exhaled with a great sigh and he felt her tremble. Her hips rolled against him and away. He longed to laugh with delight, but her other hand kept his head pressed firmly to her breast.

  When the movements of her hips gained urgency, he turned his head and whispered, “Crawl into my lap, Lizzy, astride me.”

  He removed his hand from her, but tried to keep his mouth upon her breasts. Guiding and supporting her, Darcy helped her knees come to rest on either side of his thighs. Her hands grasped his shoulders and pushed his robe down his arms. Shaking off the sleeves, he held her lower back with one hand, and with the other, he rubbed the tip of his member against the seat of her desire. He took a nipple into his mouth and applied himself with renewed attention. When he sensed she was nearly delirious, he began to enter her.

  Darcy had to force himself to stop from thrusting brutally, but it took every fibre of his concentration. That Elizabeth was in the midst of a moment of bliss was obvious, and he did not want it to end in distress. He pushed a little further and felt her entire body grow rigid.

  Elizabeth thought she would swoon as the swirling awareness of intimate contact increased. She felt the action of his hand between her legs was highly improper…a gentleman ought not touch a lady so, but they were far beyond such considerations, and he did, after all, warn her in the carriage. She did not know what part of him was arousing such stimulation now that she had scrambled astride his lap, but suddenly, as he started to enter her, she realized the moment had come, that they were consummating their union. It stung, and she did not wish to transmit her pain to him but it was too late. She felt her body stiffen and the passion that filled her with frenzy was quite suddenly gone.