Chapter 4 Illuminative Conversation #3
His “barely tolerable” remark at the Meryton Assembly—the result of frustrated moodiness and trying to keep Mr. Bingley from playing matchmaker—had long ago been discounted.
There was no question William considered her beautiful.
The only surprise in that statement was that Lizzy had never considered herself particularly beautiful.
Honestly, tolerable is an apt word. Perhaps a bit more than tolerable, but not the beauty of Jane or adorable, dimpled cuteness of Kitty.
Nor was she lushly provocative, like Lydia.
Not being unkind but merely honest, of the five Bennet daughters, Lizzy ranked her looks above only Mary, who was the plainest.
Of course, as the ancient saying maintained, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
William beheld the woman he loved, and in his estimation, she was the most beautiful woman alive—his words, not her prideful imagination.
On the handful of occasions when he had relaxed his guard enough to touch her face, she readily recalled how his fingertips would sensuously brush over her skin from feature to feature, his passion-glazed eyes following and conveying without a single word his fervid attraction.
His actions and expressions vivid in her mind, Lizzy lifted a hand to her face.
Tracing a similar trail as he, she swept her fingers across her forehead, brows, nose, cheek, and then down to rest on her lips.
Her mirrored image faded, shimmering into his form and his eyes hungrily, reverently staring back.
She didn’t realize how rapidly her heart was beating and how shallow her breaths until, in the same mesmerized manner, her fingers glided along her jaw then down her neck to rest lightly in the hollow of her throat.
No longer was her fevered mind envisioning his fingertips.
Instead, she felt his lips as they had traversed the sensitive flesh of her shoulders and bosom earlier that day.
The sensations coursing through her body from the memory were nearly as intense as his tangible mouth had aroused.
Perhaps the intimacy of the current setting contributes, she thought dazedly.
After all, she was alone, steps away from a bed, and wearing nothing but sleeping garments.
For the first time, she deliberately contemplated how it would be on her wedding night. William, for the first time, would see her as she is now. Hair tumbling down her back, feet bare, and a loose gown of thin material the only barrier to her naked flesh.
Lizzy emitted a breathy sigh as tingles cascaded over her skin. Shivering, she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest and hugged her shoulders.
Not even when purchasing the filmy nightgowns and robes for after her marriage—at the insistence of her aunt—had she dwelt upon his reaction to seeing them on her.
“Such garments are not designed to be worn for long,” her aunt had quipped, causing both Lizzy and Jane to blush furiously.
All five of the hastily selected, delicate and lacy sets were packed away, out of sight.
Lizzy hadn’t braved looking at them again.
Suddenly, Lizzy heard her aunt’s words from just a few hours ago, but with another application.
“… the pressing issue at hand is creating an environment of ease … If the remotest reference to intimacy brings on blushes and stammering, how will you ever communicate openly with your husbands?”
The concept did not apply only to verbal communication, she now saw.
She must learn to overcome her modesty, to be open, at ease, and unafraid when exposing her body to her husband.
If she blushed at the very idea of wearing a semi-revealing gown, would paralysis ensue when he asked to see her naked?
Or worse, would she do something utterly stupid, like run from the room?
Vexed at herself for being such a ninny, Lizzy released her arm and peeled the robe off her shoulders.
Seconds later, the nightgown lay on the floor, and there she was, naked as the day she was born.
Forcefully tamping the hesitancy and lingering twinges of embarrassment, she assessed the familiar figure reflected in the glass from the perspective of the man who loved her.
An episode from some two years ago came to mind.
One afternoon she and her sisters were sitting in the Longbourn parlor, each attending to a task of some kind, while their mother hummed a soft tune as she sewed.
Mary was reading the Bible, and at one point asked, “Mama, what does Solomon mean by saying her ‘two breasts are like two young roes that are twins.’?”
Mrs. Bennet nearly suffered apoplexy on the spot!
Not attempting to answer, she snatched the book from Mary’s hands and forbade her from reading the Song of Solomon.
This reaction only confused poor Mary, made Jane blush, and Lizzy stifle giggles, but Lydia instantly perked up.
For probably the first time in ages, she’d grabbed another Bible off the shelf and scoured the poetic book of romance for anything remotely sexual, which she then recited for the whole room.
Kitty was swiftly caught up in the frenzy, although she probably didn’t understand most of the language and meaning.
Their poor mother retreated to her bedroom, not seen for the rest of the day.
Mrs. Bennet’s overreaction to a simple fact of life made the situation far worse, not that this was unusual when uncomfortable topics came up.
Lydia and Kitty soon grew tired of the game, but Lizzy had been left intrigued.
Rereading the Song of Solomon—done privately later that night—with more mature eyes was enlightening.
Without a doubt, God intended for men and women to delight in each other, in every way, with the visual certainly being an important aspect.
For a young woman nearing nineteen, this wasn’t a major epiphany, of course.
No matter how innocent one is, recognizing a handsome man and presenting oneself in an attractive light are as natural as breathing, even if not taken all that seriously most of the time.
As the memory and subsequent ruminating filtered through her mind, Lizzy continued to study her reflection.
Then she lifted her arms over her head, twirled around a time or two, bent at the waist to touch her toes, and performed a few dance steps and other such freeing movements.
Primarily, her goal was to grow comfortable being unclothed.
If she could watch herself, knowing she was far more critical of her flaws than William would be, then perhaps the transition to exposing her body to him would be easier.
It was amazingly liberating! Laughing aloud, she continued the experiment while imagining William in the room.
Her husband, sitting on the chair and laughing at her antics, lying on the bed watching with his intensely passionate gaze, and then standing near her.
His handsome face, his gentle hands, his soft lips—even his velvety tongue—were distinctly imagined.
With every illusionary touch, caress, and kiss, her excitement increased.
The visions escalated, enhanced by the vividly remembered incidents of being held tightly in his embrace, firm chest muscles pressing against her breasts, and him cupping her buttocks to draw her against the steely length of his arousal.
The picture remained somewhat hazy, as her knowledge was not complete enough to fabricate an unclothed version of him.
What her ingenuity could create, however, was sufficient to ignite her passion.
Lizzy never knew how long she stood still with eyes closed and arms crossed over sensitized breasts. The sizzling of the candle flame as it hit the melted wax, seconds before extinguishing, broke the spell. The room was cold, goose pimples had risen on her arms, and she shivered.
Yet her tremors were not from the cold. Inside, she was on fire, alive with sensations evoked by the fantasy dance with her lover.
She was lightheaded from panting breaths and rapid heartbeats, and her loins ached excruciatingly in a way she’d never experienced.
She felt exhilarated and empty at the same time.
In a daze, she donned her gown and crawled between the cold sheets.
She fell asleep almost immediately, slipping into a dream of William.
Interestingly, her subconscious miraculously filled in the blanks her conscious mind could not.
This dream—the first of many more to come—was incredibly detailed, realistic, and most decidedly erotic.
It was, by far, the best dream of Elizabeth Bennet’s entire life, and she woke the next morning astoundingly refreshed.