Remembrance of the Past

by Lory Lilian

  The wedding breakfast was everything for which Mrs. Bennet had hoped. Lady Fitzwilliam praised the elegant arrangements and the choice of the dishes, and Lady Cassandra said she had not enjoyed herself so much in years.

  Mrs. Bennet was utterly happy—and she did not worry about her nerves a single moment.

  In a corner of the Netherfield ballroom, the newlywed couples were speaking to each other.

  “I shall miss you, Lizzy; I shall write you every day,” said a tearful Jane.

  “I hope you will not have time to write me, dearest Jane. I shall miss you, too. But it is less than two months until we meet again at Pemberley for Christmas. Take care of yourself and your husband until then.”

  “I will do my best, Lizzy,” Jane whispered as she cast a quick glance at her husband, who was engaged in a close conversation with Mr. Darcy.

  “You surely do not have to leave so soon, Darcy; you are more than welcome to stay here…for tonight, I mean. Both Jane and I are delighted to have you and all our families as guests—

  “Bingley! You have finally married the woman you have loved for so long. I truly hope you will find delight in no one else’s presence except that of your wife and will not welcome any guests into your home for at least a month! Stop being so kind and polite—it is time for you to be selfish.”

  Bingley smiled uncomfortably, and then he looked at his wife and met her timid glance.

  “I cannot send people away,” he replied with a low voice.

  “Now you cannot,” admitted Darcy, patting his shoulder sympathetically. “Fortunately they will leave—eventually. My uncle and aunt, together with Cassandra, Georgiana and David will depart for London shortly, so they will not give you much trouble.”

  “Trust me, Darcy; they never gave me any trouble.”

  “Yes, I believe that. Your troubles lie elsewhere,” Darcy said, with a meaningful glance toward the Hursts and the Bennets. “My advice would be to ask for Mr. Bennet’s help in the matter.”

  “I will—I certainly will. And you know, Caroline is determined to leave for a long tour around the country, and Louisa said they will return to London—

  “Yes, I have heard that. And Bingley—you will always be welcome at Pemberley, you know that.”

  “We shall come for Christmas.”

  “You may come sooner if you want. I can offer you and Mrs. Bingley the entire east wing, and I promise you—nobody will disturb you there.”

  “I shall take your offer into consideration, Darcy.”

  An hour later, after all the guests said their goodbyes to the Darcys, he handed his wife into the carriage and then closed and locked its door.

  Inside the carriage, Elizabeth forced herself to smile while fighting the overwhelming emotion of departing Netherfield, their friends and families. As her trembling hands pressed together and her shimmering eyes locked on her husband’s, Elizabeth managed a barely audible whisper.

  “Finally we come to the end of this.”

  “No indeed, my love; it is not the end but the beginning. I am taking you home, Mrs. Darcy!”

  Chapter 23

  “Home…” she whispered, a timid smile fighting her emotions. Her eyes locked with his worried ones for a moment, and then she nestled into his chest. His arm encircled her shoulder in a loving gesture.

  “Elizabeth, is anything wrong?”

  “No…nothing is wrong. Quite the contrary. It is just that I still remember vividly the day I entered your home for the first time.”

  “I remember that day, too—every moment of it. I felt ripped apart; my joy and gratitude in meeting you again was countered by my fear that your feelings for me were still the same as in April. I feared Georgiana’s insistence might distress you, yet I was grateful that she dared what I did not. I cherished every new moment in your company, though I was not certain whether you accepted the invitation with pleasure or a sense of obligation.”

  “Both, I imagine. I did not know what to do. I wondered how you felt about Georgiana inviting us. I was certain I did not deserve your attentions and was shocked when I received them. And when you asked me whether I wanted you to leave your own home, I was overwhelmed by your consideration and ashamed of my past behaviour toward you.”

  “You must not feel ashamed, Elizabeth. You were faultless; I fully deserved your harsh words and your rejection last spring!”

  “You are too kind, my love,” she smiled as her fingers tenderly caressed his face. “You have always been an exceptionally good man—the best man I have ever known—and, for a long time, I failed miserably to notice it.”

  “I had done nothing to deserve your good opinion when we first met, and my outrageous intervention in—

  “Oh, come now, Mr. Darcy! If we continue like this, we shall spend our entire wedding day and night arguing about the past. I used to have a marvellous philosophy, which could be quite useful to both of us in these circumstances. Unfortunately, I failed to follow it recently, so it might not be as good as I thought it to be.”

  Darcy placed a soft kiss in her palm. “You must not worry, my love. We will not spend our wedding night arguing, I promise you,” he whispered, and his voice, together with the soft touch of his lips on her palm, made her shiver. “And now,” he continued, still holding her hand, “will you not share your philosophy, Mrs. Darcy?”

  “I certainly shall.” She forced a smile as she fought the sudden lump in her throat. “Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.”

  “A good philosophy indeed—especially for someone who has not much to be blamed for in the past. I am afraid that, in my case, it would not be—

  “Oh, this will never do.” She stopped him, pressing her hand upon his mouth. Then she rose a little from her seat, just enough for her lips to replace her fingers and silence him in a most pleasant way.

  If Darcy was surprised, he managed to conceal it successfully and handle the situation remarkably well; he needed only an instant to pull her upon his lap and tighten his arms around her waist. Elizabeth laughed shortly against his mouth. Their kiss was more a playful dance than a passionate urge—a tantalising tease of each other’s lips and an expression of their delight in being together—finally.

  “Elizabeth, I truly hate this bonnet,” he said unexpectedly against her mouth, his fingers trying to slide beneath the object of his displeasure in an attempt to caress her hair. Her peals of laughter broke the kiss.

  “I am sorry to hear that, sir. My mother warned me that you might also be displeased with the lack of lace.”

  “Lace? Of what lace are you speaking? What I meant is—I would rather have leave to admire your hair whenever I please. May I?” She nodded in agreement, still laughing, as he removed her bonnet.

  “That is much better, would you not agree?”

  “I certainly would,” Elizabeth admitted, and he pressed a soft kiss on her temple, obviously content.

  “So, dare I ask why your mother feared I might be displeased?”

  “Well, because of the lack of lace on my gown, of course, dear sir.”

  “You are teasing me again, Mrs. Darcy. Surely, nobody believes a lack of lace can be the reason for someone’s displeasure. In fact, I doubt I have ever noticed the presence or the absence of lace on anyone’s gown.”

  “That is indeed a pity, sir, and I hope you are a singular case, because we—women—spend an excessive amount of time arranging ourselves in order to be noticed by you gentlemen,” Elizabeth laughed. “Of course, some of us fail in the attempt and barely manage to appear tolerable; however, we are not to be easily discouraged.”

  Darcy’s countenance changed, and as they were mere inches apart, Elizabeth could see her teasing disturbed him. She leaned closer as he started to apologise.

  “Sir, I thought you had grown accustomed to my teasing by now and begun to enjoy it, but if you feel the need to apologise again for that evening, I must have been wrong in my estimation.”

  “You were not wrong. Ho
wever, I cannot forgive myself as easily as you do, and my behaviour at the beginning of our acquaintance still troubles me. As for your teasing—I have always enjoyed it exceedingly, you know that.”

  “Always? Even when I was impertinent in my replies to you?”

  “You were never impertinent; amusing and exceptionally bright, yes, but never impertinent.”

  “I am afraid you failed to notice it, sir, as you failed to notice the lace on our gowns,” Elizabeth smiled. “Which is quite amazing, considering the fact that you are such a perceptive man.”

  “You give me too much credit, my dear wife. Where you were concerned, my perception betrayed me for a considerable time, or I would have seen your true feelings for me last spring.”

  She huffed and rolled her eyes in exasperation.

  “You do plan to spend our wedding day arguing about the unpleasant things in our past, sir!”

  “No, no indeed…forgive me.” He placed butterfly kisses on her hair.

  Elizabeth cuddled to his chest, sighing contentedly. “Much better indeed.”

  As she was resting on his lap, his left hand encircled her back as his right gently raised her face to his. She smiled, and his face was lit with delight before their lips joined and the past vanished.

  As Darcy’s caress became more daring and possessive, Elizabeth’s restraint vanished; she was alone with her husband and they no longer need hide from others. For a moment, a sensible thought crossed her mind, telling her there were footmen outside the carriage, but his lips travelling along her throat and his fingers lowering the shoulder of her dress made her insensible of anything but her husband and the tingling shivers that overwhelmed her senses. She reclined in his embrace, and his kisses became more passionate. Some uncounted minutes later, Elizabeth felt herself pulled upright as gentle arms embraced her tenderly and lips rested lightly against her temple. She could feel Darcy’s heart racing wildly and forced her own ragged breath to calm.

  “We have two more hours until London, my love, and this will not help us pass the time,” Darcy whispered. “Even more, though I praise my discipline and self-control, I fear my struggle will be in vain if you continue to encourage me in such a tempting manner,” he added hoarsely.

  Elizabeth blushed, suddenly mortified by her wanton behaviour. “You are correct, of course,” she replied, trying to resume her position beside him.

  His arms tightened around her. “Elizabeth, please look at me.”

  Her cheeks were crimson, and she was biting her lower lip as her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “I am sorry, I…” She felt so deeply distressed while he seemed nothing but amused. Nervously, she averted her eyes and tried to rise again from his lap.

  “For what would you be sorry, my love? For enjoying my kisses and caresses? I hope you are not truly sorry, just as I hope you will learn never to feel embarrassment from the pleasure and joy we will share in our marriage.”

  “I am sorry for making such an exhibition of myself. I do not know what is happening to me. I seem to act most irrationally when I am with you. I am quite aware of how I should behave, but unfortunately, I so forget all propriety and decorum on occasion that I must shock you. It is unacceptable that you—as a man—should be the sensible and considerate one who always puts an end to these…improper activities.

  “Elizabeth, please stop…” She timidly raised her head, and he softly kissed her eyelids.

  “Do I look shocked to you, my dear?” Can you not see that your behaviour is everything for which I have hoped? For more than a year, I have dreamt of the moment your love and passion would equal mine, though for a time I dared not think it would happen. You are the only woman to inhabit my dreams, Elizabeth, but you are more wonderful than any dream.”

  “More wanton, you mean,” she replied, trying to defeat her emotions.

  He laughed. “You say ‘wanton’—I say unrestrained, passionate, lively, and honest in expressing your feelings—exactly as you always have been!”

  “I like your choice of words better than mine.”

  “What a relief to know that for once you approve my choice of words; I would say that is a great improvement over our first meeting,” he replied, and she laughed tearfully.

  “Yes, a great improvement, Mr. Darcy.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Darcy. I am content that we clarified our little misunderstanding,” he said with another soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Now, let us change the subject, shall we?”

  She nodded, and then her head nestled on his shoulder in a peaceful silence,

  “So, we were debating the importance of lace, I remember. Shall we continue?”

  “As you wish, sir, but I insist you allow me to resume my place beside you. You cannot possibly keep me in your lap until we reach London.”

  “Are you uncomfortable with this arrangement?”

  “Quite the contrary,” she replied lightly, a quick blush colouring her cheeks, “but I imagine you are uncomfortable, as I know I am not such an easy charge—

  “Your concern is greatly appreciated, but please do not worry about my comfort,” he assured her and gently tilted her head so their lips met again. The urgency of his kiss took Elizabeth by surprise—as they had just agreed they should stop that kind of activity; however, she hesitated only a moment before wisely determining it was her duty to obey her husband’s wishes.

  “Let us discuss lace,” Darcy said breathlessly sometime later.

  ***

  At Netherfield, Caroline Bingley had all her belongings arranged in the carriage and wanted nothing more than to be on her way as soon as possible. She could no longer tolerate Mrs. Bennet’s smug grin, Charles’s dumb smile or Jane’s complacent countenance. Impatiently, she rolled her eyes in exasperation as Mr. Hurst indulged in yet another glass of wine and Charles expressed once again his regret for their early departure.

  Finally, Louisa and her useless husband were settled in the carriage, and Caroline’s journey commenced. She felt pleased, confident and full of anticipation for the tour she would start in a couple of days. For the next several months, she would be in Lady Sophia’s select company—the company she deserved. This would be the perfect occasion to find an excellent husband—and she would sever forever any ties with the Bennets!

  As for Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy—if he could not recognise and appreciate her worthiness, it was his loss. From then on, he would be forced to bear Eliza Bennet and her family forever. He would surely come to regret her—she was certain of that—and this perspective kept Caroline Bingley cheerfully distracted for the remainder of their journey to London.

  ***

  Dressed in her nightgown and robe, her hair flowing over her shoulders, Elizabeth paced the room, brushing her fingers over the furnishings.

  Darcy had accompanied her to her chambers an hour earlier and then left, promising he would return soon. She knew she needed privacy to prepare herself for what was to come, but she already missed his presence dearly.

  Her maid helped her with her bath and prepared her for the night—and now, with everything arranged, Elizabeth was waiting alone in the large, silent, elegant room. Mrs. Darcy’s chamber!

  Her apartment was spectacular; it was not so much the grandeur or the richness that impressed her, but all the beauty around her and the thought that, from that day on, everything belonged to her—the former Elizabeth Bennet. For the first time in her life, Elizabeth felt intimidated.

  She returned to the bed and stared at a box, elegantly wrapped. It was likely a present for her, but she did not open it, although she could hardly restrain her curiosity. Darcy had seemed to notice her interest, and she was certain she had seen him smiling mischievously, but he had departed before she could inquire further.

  What could it be? It was clearly too large a box to contain jewels and too small for a gown or bonnet. Perhaps some books? But why would he offer her books so secretly on their wedding night? Surely, he did not intend to read, she thought as her cheeks burned. Oh, wher
e was he?

  ***

  Jane Bingley did not dare move—or breathe. She was completely undressed and her husband’s arm held her tightly against his bare chest; her breasts were almost painfully crushed to him. Every movement—including their breathing or the beating of their hearts—caused their bodies to brush against each other. She felt exhausted and stunned as much as she was ashamed and incredulous at everything that had occurred between them.

  Cassandra had told her that the experience of becoming a woman would be a pleasant one, but pleasant was hardly a proper word for what she had felt; in truth, she was too mortified even to contemplate everything her husband had done to her, but she vividly remembered it had been much more than pleasant. She would have never imagined Charles behaving in such a way—so unrestrained, so passionate—almost demanding in his insistence on defeating her embarrassment and modesty.

  With shame and delight, happy that her red face could not be seen nor her thoughts read, she remembered how he had removed her nightgown while she struggled to keep her body hidden; how he impetuously covered her body with shocking, intoxicating kisses, how he kept asking her if she enjoyed what she was feeling. Oh, she did enjoy everything—she truly did. Her body was exhausted by her husband’s passion, and the pain was still sharp inside her, yet—to her own astonishment—Jane hoped he would repeat his attentions very soon.

  Cassandra had told her she would like being married to Charles—and Cassandra had been right again. She is so smart, and she knows so many things! Jane mused with gratitude, nestling to her husband’s chest.

  Charles Bingley was the happiest man in the world—and the proudest. All his fears and worries were now gone, and he was holding closely in his arms his beautiful Jane, the woman who had offered him everything that he had dreamed—and much more.

  A trace of guilt shadowed his contentment, as he knew he had been ofttimes too impatient. But he was at least pleased to know that the only inconvenience she had suffered was embarrassment. She seemed ashamed most of the time—he knew that. She even begged him to allow her to cover herself with the sheets at one point, but he had silenced her with his kisses. And she did like being kissed—he had no doubts. How sweet she was in her complete abandon with him! And how incredibly beautiful she was as she took her pleasure—a pleasure he was giving her, and one he hoped he would be allowed to bestow on her again very soon.