I Met Mr Darcy Via Luton

by Fredrica Edward

  The parson joined their hands and intoned, "Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder," before turning to the congregation, "Forasmuch as Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

  The psalm, the responses… all passed in a blur, 'til the communion, when they each drank from the cup.

  Mary restarted the music as they rose, and the whispers of the congregation washed over them as they moved to the vestry to sign the register.

  When Lizzy lifted the quill from the paper, she looked up to smile at Darcy, who watched her with a dreamy and serene expression.

  Elizabeth then handed the pen to her father, who promptly rolled his eyes at her–he thought ceremonies the most incredible bore.

  "Don't worry, Papa," she whispered, "only three more to go."

  As they emerged from the church into bright sunlight, there was applause, and the butcher from Meryton led a few hurrahs. Lizzy turned her back on the throng to throw her bouquet, attempting to pitch it away from Lydia. She laughed when she turned round to find that despite her efforts, Lydia had again snaffled it from an outraged Kitty.

  Once Lydia saw the expression on her sister's face, she graciously handed the blooms over with, "Perhaps you'd like these. I already have Jane's bouquet anyway."

  Elizabeth was too busy being amazed at Lydia's improved behaviour to notice her mother hurrying towards her with the white pelisse she had worn to the entrance of the church. Once Mrs Bennet had settled it on her daughter's shoulders and fastened it at the front, Darcy put his hand gently on his wife's back and steered her towards his relations.

  "Elizabeth, this is my uncle, Geoffrey Fitzwilliam, the Earl of Matlock; Evelina Fitzwilliam, Countess of Matlock; Miranda Fitzwilliam, Viscountess Stanley; and a fellow native of Hertfordshire, Lady Louisa Stuart of Luton Hoo."

  Elizabeth eyed the formidable grouping of nobility. So this was the disreputable earl with his wife and daughter-in-law; but the viscount, the only other member of the family she had met before, was nowhere in sight. Little did she know that yesterday Richard had lost two hundred guineas of Darcy's money at cards to his brother and had left his sibling with a tip for a good horse at Newmarket.

  "Pleased to meet you," she said, curtseying before the group.

  "And, of course, you already know me, Mrs Darcy," said Richard, stepping forward and bowing over her hand.

  She smiled at him, grateful to have another ally amongst such august personages. He really did look very dashing in that uniform. No doubt Lydia would be bothering him before the end of the day.

  "My elder brother sends his apologies," said Richard.

  "Oh?" said the earl. "I thought perhaps he may have merely been delayed."

  "No, no," said Richard, "I believe he had a prior appointment at Newmarket."

  The Countess and Lady Stanley exchanged a fathomless look, which bespoke their deep disapproval to their immediate family. Darcy surreptitiously shot a grin at Richard, happy that he wouldn't have to worry about his cousin falling into the punch.

  "Why don't we remove to Longbourn," suggested Richard, "so we can eat while we talk?"

  "Or better still, drink," laughed the earl, ignoring the cool stare from his wife, who claimed his arm.

  As they wended their way to Longbourn, the earl's attention was focused on the married couple before him, or more particularly, the lady. He had spent an appreciable amount of time imagining the lusty country wench who had captured Darcy's heart. He was completely unprepared for the reality of Miss Elizabeth Bennet when she had appeared in the nave. He had momentarily got the distinct impression that it was his long dead sister, Anne Darcy, walking down the aisle–something about Miss Elizabeth's shoulders, her thin arms and her graceful neck. Granted, she was shorter than his sister, who had been tall and willowy, almost matching her husband George Darcy in height; and Miss Bennet was slightly better endowed–a pocket Venus. He was sure that underneath that dress she had a perfect hourglass figure. It was a pity the short stays made her look a little top heavy. He hated modern underwear–she would be better off without it…

  Once the veil was lifted, the earl saw Darcy's bride bore a distinct resemblance to Anne. The chestnut curls made her a dead ringer from the back, if one ignored the more voluptuous figure, which he was not inclined to do.

  But once she returned from the vestry, he'd been able to study her face. He had never thought his sister's face pretty, despite the fact she was an acknowledged beauty. Yes, George Darcy had thought her Aphrodite. To his mind, his sister's face was too long and horsey and Miss Bennet's was quite different–heart-shaped, like his latest ladybird's. But there was still something about her face that was reminiscent of his sister–the serene expression and the curve of her lips; but those eyes–they were a world apart–sparkling and lively, quite different from his sister's hazel orbs.

  Once his nephew introduced him, the resemblance was again broken as soon as she opened her mouth: Miss Bennet, but she was now his niece, Mrs Darcy, had a sweet bell-like voice, whereas his sister's voice had been low and husky.

  As he followed the happy couple away from the church, the villagers were hailing her and giving their congratulations. There seemed to be a damned lot of them for the number of buildings on the street. It looked like she was popular, or at least the family were. He wondered what his stiff-rumped nephew was making of being mobbed by the hoi polloi.

  When they arrived at the reception, the earl looked for an opportunity to speak to her apart. His nephew was watching his wife like a hawk, but the earl bided his time…

  "So, Mrs Darcy, we meet at last. I must admit I was curious to meet the lady who captured the heart of my fastidious nephew."

  "Well, here I am–a country miss. Darcy was dreadfully bored by his stay in Hertfordshire and had to resort to fraternising with the local population," she said archly.

  So his nephew liked a bit of salt and pepper, did he?

  "Well, I should have got here first," smiled the earl with an intense look. "I quite enjoy fraternisation."

  What a dangerous man, thought Elizabeth, and his wife not three feet away. She resolved never to find herself alone in a room with the earl.

  She was saved replying by a voice behind her.

  "Oh, Lizzy, you look so beautiful!"

  The earl glanced at the couple who were approaching them. He had noted them briefly as they walked into the room. The pair could have served in a tableau for the Gemini twins–they were of a similar height and both had blonde hair. His eyes popped once he saw the face of the woman up close. She was taller than Elizabeth and had a particularly angelic face: a classic beauty.

  "Oh, Jane, you made it!" cried Elizabeth, hugging her sister before performing the introductions. Bingley's hand went possessively to his wife's elbow as he greeted the earl politely.

  The earl withdrew from the family reunion when Darcy reappeared on the scene. By the time he was ready to leave, he had decided that while the elder sister had the more beautiful face, he preferred the figure of Darcy's wife. Yes, he would like to be in his nephew's skin tonight. However, among all the sisters, he favoured the vivacious, what was her name? Lilian?–not quite so pretty as either of her elder sisters, but she was not missish at all. He was sure she was up to all the rigs and was quite surprised to find she was only sixteen.

  Interestingly, this was also the conclusion of his second son, who spent a very interesting half-hour being shown the best places to catch frogs at Longbourn before requesting an introduction to Mr Bennet's goat.

  It was two o'clock when an impatient Darcy called for his carriage to be readied and attempted to extract his bride from the guests. She had just started talking
to one of soldiers from the hospital–a man in a wheeled chair.

  "Congratulations, Mrs Darcy."

  "I'm glad to see you made it, Captain Kirkby," replied Elizabeth.

  "I came for Lieutenant Entwistle," replied the captain.

  Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. She was glad the captain had finally managed to shake himself from his melancholia. It was a shame that it had taken Lieutenant Entwistle's death to do it. She supposed he had finally decided there were worse things than not having the use of one's legs.

  "I'm sure he would have been here," explained the captain.

  "I have no doubt of it," Elizabeth replied softly. "But next time you come to a function, let it be for yourself."

  "We will miss you all at the hospital," he replied sincerely.

  "Indeed, we will, Miss..us Darcy," stumbled Dr Gregory, at a rare loss, as he joined the group. "Thank you for all your help. I could not have done it without you."

  He grasped both Elizabeth's hands firmly.

  "I'm sure you could have, Dr Gregory, but I am glad I could assist."

  Then Darcy was looming, and her family gathered round to see Elizabeth to the coach.

  Elizabeth gave her father one last hug before saying, "Please come to Pemberley in the summer, Father. I promise you won't regret it once you see the library."

  "Very well," he whispered in reply, "I will brave my son-in-law for the sake of his library. Now be off with you, so you reach London before sunset."

  Chapter 65: The wedding night

  By the time they had reached the outskirts of Longbourn, Darcy had pulled down the blinds of the carriage.

  Lizzy eyed him nervously. "What are you doing, sir?"

  "Whiling away the trip to London, my dear," he said as he knelt on the floor of the carriage.

  She realised that he had changed from the tailored coat of black superfine and black pantaloons he had worn at the wedding to a more comfortable riding outfit. As she watched, he quickly untied his muslin cravat and stuffed it into one pocket. Then he hitched her skirts above her knee.

  She sucked in her breath. "You are not going to take my maidenhood here in the carriage?" she asked a little nervously.

  "Ever the direct one, Lizzy," he commented. "No, I am not. But there are plenty of things we can do before we get to that."

  "Please, sir, come up and sit beside me," she suggested, patting the seat. "We can talk on the way to London."

  "Certainly not. I believe, just this morning, I agreed to worship your body?" he said as he slipped off a damask slipper and untied the ribbon of one garter. "This seems a good position to start doing so."

  He rolled the stocking down her leg and discarded it. Lifting her dainty foot, he engulfed her big toe with his lips. She squeaked in surprise and instinctively kicked, but he had a good hold of her ankle.

  Removing his lips with a loud smacking noise, Darcy laughed at her reaction. "Trying to give me another fat lip, dear?"

  "You are surely not referring to when I hit you at Hunsford?"

  "I am," he said licking the arch of her foot.

  Another jerk.

  "What a thing to bring up! You thoroughly deserved your fat lip, sir!"

  "Indeed, and now you can punish me in whichever way you choose."

  "What a speech! I should…"

  "Yes?" he said, slowly licking up her calf.

  Elizabeth shivered. "Please stop, sir. This is quite improper."

  "Now, now, Lizzy, didn't your mother give you a talk?" he asked as he retreated to her foot and began to massage it with both hands.

  "It was not very edifying, I assure you," she replied.

  "She didn't say something like 'all is permissible in the marriage bed'?"

  "We are not in bed, sir; and it was something more along the lines of 'Lie still, and let your husband have his way with you'."

  "That will do for the moment," Darcy replied as his hands moved up to massage the muscles of her calves.

  Elizabeth leaned back against the squabs. "Oh, that feels good! Those pattens made my feet ache. They are positively medieval."

  "Indeed," he said as he switched his attention to the other foot–off came the other stocking. "I'm sure you were wishing that you could wear your walking boots to church."

  "I was, although it might have looked strange when I knelt at the prayer rail."

  "Well, I'm glad I'm not unlacing your boots right now," he said as he slid one hand over her knee and along her inner thigh. It felt heavenly. The skin was far softer than on her calf and quite hairless.

  "Slippers and stockings are far more enticing," he said huskily.

  Elizabeth moved to stay his hand as it reached higher. "Fitzwilliam, surely this can wait until we are in the privacy of our own chambers."

  "We are quite private here. No one will disturb us," he reassured her, his hands retreating to her knees.

  "Nonetheless, I do not wish to arrive in Mayfair dishevelled."

  "I'm sure we can make ourselves respectable before we leave the carriage," he said, running his hand up her outer thigh to check she was wearing nothing under her petticoat.

  He smiled when he reached her bare bottom. "We need not take any more of our clothes off," he reassured her.

  "Very well," she conceded breathily.

  Darcy planted chaste kisses on her knees in appreciation; then pushed them gently apart so that he could kneel between them, continuing to stroke up her inner thighs as he did so. Reaching the soft hair at the juncture of her legs, he moved his fingers in lazy circles.

  "Oohh, Fitzwilliam… "

  "Lie back along the squabs," Darcy urged as he quickly discarded his coat.

  Elizabeth obeyed, casting a nervous glance at the thin sliver of daylight that peeked between the window and the blind. She had bizarre thoughts of being stopped by highwaymen and caught thus when the door was flung open…

  He tossed her skirts up round her waist, and bringing one knee up onto the squab, leant down to kiss her pudenda.

  She gasped. "Fitzwilliam, I…"

  But before she could protest further, he had buried his patrician nose between her thighs. Elizabeth thought she would die of mortification. She twined her fingers into Darcy's black locks to yank his head to a more respectable location, but he seemed to be enjoying himself so much that she did not have the heart to stop him. After relaxing a little, she discovered that she was beginning to enjoy his ministrations and contented herself with running her fingers through his curls. He was pressing one of her legs into the squab with his arm and she moved to place it over his shoulder.

  Darcy was making some fairly guttural sounds. She could feel his tongue probing and licking while his hands gripped her bottom. Closing her eyes, she surrendered herself to the sensations he was eliciting as he continued to nudge and tease her. Elizabeth felt a wave of something like euphoria grip her and heard herself cry out. Goodness! She brought one hand up to cover her mouth. She had no idea how loud her cry had been. Could the coachmen have heard her?

  Eventually he came up for air, flashing a dreamy smile at her.

  Elizabeth refocused her eyes. "Your chin is wet."

  The smile broadened. Pulling a large handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket, Darcy wiped his face.

  Shifting, he loomed above her and then descended to kiss her lips, bringing a hand up to squeeze her breast through her stays. His kissing became more passionate, and she felt his hand move under her skirt, toying with her. When he pushed his tongue into her mouth, she realised he had pushed his finger inside her as well.

  She broke away from the kiss. "Fitzwilliam…" she gasped.

  "Mmhh?" he said as he kissed her straining neck and continued to play with her flesh.

  "Please, …not here," she panted.

  "Just a little longer," he coaxed.

  Elizabeth knew she was going to scream. She could feel it welling up inside her. She brought her hand up to cover her mouth, as she felt the shudder overtake her. "Ohhhh," she sighed, reli
eved she had managed to stay relatively quiet.

  She collapsed back onto the squabs.

  Darcy kissed her forehead and sat up, her leg sliding down his arm. Throwing his head back onto the squabs, he sucked a finger meditatively before pulling out his handkerchief again.

  Her eyes fluttered open. "What did you do?"

  "Let me help you," he said, evading her question by dabbing his handkerchief between her legs. Satisfied with his ministrations, he pulled her up into a sitting position beside him.

  "I think we had better just talk for a while," he said, slightly breathless.

  "Very well," she said, leaning her head against his chest. She could hear his heart beating rapidly. Looking down, she saw the front of his breeches were bulging. "What should we talk of?"

  "We never really discussed the sleeping arrangements at the townhouse. I hope you are content to spend tonight in my chambers?"

  "Of course, Fitzwilliam."

  "The question is where you will reside after that. The mistress's chambers are up on the third floor–that's the room Bingley uses. Alternately, we could refurbish the green room–the room you stayed in during your recent visit."

  "I don't know. I suppose I should view both rooms," she replied, a little bemused they had gone from lovemaking to household matters so quickly.

  "My parents used to occupy the entire third floor. I lived on the second floor where guests were also accommodated. The question is what to do with Richard. We grew up together. I'd like to be able to continue to accommodate him until he marries; otherwise he has only the barracks."

  "But don't his parents own a much larger townhouse across the square?"

  "Yes, but his father and brother live there, and he quarrels with them terribly–doesn't like the way they treat the women in the family."

  "I see. So it would probably be better if I stayed down on the second floor with Georgie."

  "That's one solution. I've been thinking of installing a bath for Georgie. We could refurbish the entire second floor so that you could both use it, plus you could use the hidden stair to access my rooms or go to the library without encountering the servants."