2. Chapter 2
15 November, 1812
Netherfield, Hertfordshire
My Darling Wife,
It is the day after our wedding and I cannot let it pass without telling you how very happy you have made me, in every respect. My love, last night was magical. Perfect. Beyond my wildest expectations. You are everything wonderful, my dear, and I will treasure you, and my memories of this time, for all my days.
At this moment, I am writing in a corner of our chamber, stealing glances at you where you lie sleeping in the bed. Our marriage bed. Your hair is tousled and strewn across the pillows, and you occasionally murmur in your sleep, though I cannot understand your words. Are you thinking of me? Of our time together?
Elizabeth, how can I express the very great honor I feel in receiving the precious gift you gave to me last night? That you would trust me so implicitly, so completely, humbles me. I am grateful and awed and immensely proud that I am the man you have chosen to be your husband. The faith you have placed in me—it fells me, Elizabeth. I treasure that faith like the precious gift it is, and I will honor it always. You have my word.
I hope I do not scandalize you, my heart, but when you looked into my eyes and told me you loved me as I moved inside you, I felt my heart crack open. I felt a communion with you like never before. I felt as if you had bared your soul to me, and I bared mine in return. I could remain in this chamber for a month and still not have had enough of you, of this precious connection between us.
Do not ever doubt that I love you, my heart. I am full to bursting with feeling for you. I am certain I will make many mistakes in our life ahead—how could I not?—but I promise you that I will never waver in my devotion. I will be a steadfast and faithful lover.
If you ever find yourself forgetting, you may always return here, to these letters we share, to remember how utterly consumed I am with you, and how you fill my every thought when I am awake and feature in every dream whilst I am sleeping.
I have just turned back to the bed and you are gone. Where have you gone, my love? Shall I go in search of you?
FD
15 November, 1812
Netherfield, Hertfordshire
My Dear, Sweet, Handsome Husband,
How can I describe what is in my heart in this moment? It is the day after our wedding and you are scribbling furiously at the desk across the room. I can only imagine you woke up and remembered something pressing that you must attend to. That is one of the many things I love about you. How attentive you are in every area of your life.
Fitzwilliam, there is so much I long to tell you, and I am afraid I will not be comprehensible in my address for my thoughts are bounding about so this morning, but I must tell you. My love, you are so very dear to me. In my life, I have not always had people I could rely on. My father is more indolent than not and you have met my mother. Jane has been the most stalwart companion, but she is not two years my senior and often powerless to assist where it is required.
You—the wondrous person that is you!—you are everything reliable and steadfast. You are a rock upon which I may stand when the world feels unsteady. You are a hand I may hold onto when I feel lost. You are shelter in a storm and shade when the sun is too bright. You steady me in a way I had not known I needed.
All these things I knew about you before we wed—I knew them and I loved you for them, for they are integral parts of your character, and your character is one of my favorite things about you.
But my love, last night I discovered something else. There is a wildness in you—an untamed, unharnessed power that thrilled me to my bones. That you could hold this power inside you, inside the well-turned-out gentleman, is a delicious secret I shall keep to myself. But I will know it, and you will know that I know it, and when we are at a very dull party, and you meet my gaze from across the room, we shall share a look and you will know what I am thinking of.
That this immense strength resides next to such tenderness is an enigma I cannot unravel. My love, you were everything perfect. I know that you were nervous—as we both were—but you did everything right. You made me feel safe and loved and secure with you. I never doubted you, Fitzwilliam, not for a moment. Your kindness and gentleness kept me at ease, and because it is you, and you are so very precious to me, I felt able to bare myself as I could not have done with anyone else.
The strength of you, the steadiness I so admire, made me feel completely free to be and do and say what I wished without restraint. I have never fully been without passion, and our courtship showed me I was more passionate than even I had thought, but the freedom I felt in your embrace…Fitzwilliam, I was flying.
I cannot fully explain it, for I do not entirely understand it myself, but I feel as if I am a kite and you are the anchor keeping me from being whipped about in the wind. Untethered, the kite would become tangled in a tree or dive to the ground. But connected to a strong force, it may fly high and steady.
I fear I am not making sense, but you make me feel as if anything is possible. As if together, we are an unbreakable force. And after last night, after all we have shared and given to one another, we are truly one.
Did you feel it, my love? When you pierced my maidenhead, did you feel the bond that connected us? I have never thought myself to be a particularly spiritual person, but I cannot deny that I felt bound to you in a way that felt almost holy in its perfection. It was…reverential. Otherworldly. Magical. I will never forget the closeness we have shared, and I can only hope that the sweet communion, the complete openness between us, will continue and grow even stronger.
My darling husband, I am utterly enamored of you. I know you have loved me longer, and you have reason to think my sentiments are not entirely unchangeable, but know this: whatever distance between our affections existed before has now been closed. My heart is entirely yours, my love. And it is full to bursting with love for you.
Your Elizabeth
15 November, 1812
Netherfield, Hertfordshire
My Love,
How you undo me! After your letter, well, you know what happened, but after we had emerged from our chambers and when we took a walk about the cold garden, I felt the need to tell you, to express in some way how your letter from this morning made me feel. I tried to tell you, and I hope you understood what I meant, but we both know I am better in a letter, when I have had time to think over what I want to say and plan my words. I do not have your quickness, and while it is a trait I greatly admire in you, and one that brings me delight when you employ it, (do you know how your teasing flirtations set a fire in my blood?) it is a skill I am not the master of. But I want you to know what is in my heart, so I turn to a letter.
My dearest wife, that you see me so completely, that you appreciate what is a fundamental part of my character, brings me immense joy. My whole life, I have been thought to be dull, unimaginative, a stick in the mud when my friends were all having fun. The most mischief I ever got into was playing a joke on old man Turner, and even that was Fitz’s idea.
I will admit that while we were courting, I sometimes feared that you would grow bored with me. That you would wish to dance and go out every night while I would wish to stay home, and my own dullness would drive a wedge between us. We have spoken of this before, and you did a credible job of assuaging my fears. But my love, your words to me today were more than precious, for I see now what I did not then. Not only do you not mind my dullness, but it is this very trait—I believe you call it steadiness (a much better word)—that allows you to be the freest version of yourself.
I am still in awe of your trust in me—I hope I never stop being so—and I feel we are seeing a glimpse into the future, of what our lives will look like as the years pass by. We are bringing out the best in one another, my love. Do you see it? I am already more patient and it has only been a day. You are veritably sparkling, my sweet. You are a precious gem, shining in the light, and to think I had even a small part to play in your happiness fills me with joy and pride. I have decided the best sort of pride is husbandly pride. By that measure, I am the proudest man in England, for I have the most wonderful wife. I cannot imagine anyone having a better one.
We shall have dinner tonight with Bingley and your sister before leaving for Pemberley in the morning. You are in your dressing room, twisting your hair up into curls and braids that I will take great pleasure in taking down later. I know there is a great deal of the unknown before us, for you especially, but Elizabeth, you will be magnificent. I know it. You will be an exemplary mistress. And if you are feeling lonely, if the loss of your sisters’ company is too much, say the word, and I will send the carriage for them. Or beg Bingley to bring Jane to you.
I will do anything and everything for you, my love. Your happiness is my life’s greatest calling, and I intend to heed that call until I draw my last breath.
Yours Indelibly,
FD
Fitzwilliam,
You lovely man! You are waiting for me even now so I will be quick. I want you to keep this note for moments when you feel uncertain. If you ever doubt yourself, if you ever doubt me, or if we are quarreling and being ridiculous, come back and read this.
I love you with every corner of my heart, with every drop of my blood, with every thought in my mind. I shall never grow bored of you—you are entirely too interesting for that, and I am utterly fascinated by you.
Every inch of me is in agreement: you are the perfect man for me, from your steadfast character to your wry sense of humor to your unvarnished passion. I have loved none before you, and after what we have shared, there could not be room for any other, so completely have you taken hold of me.
Yours are the only hands I want roaming over my body, yours are the lips I want kissing me, yours are the arms I want holding me. I want you, my love. Only you. Always.
Your Elizabeth