Chapter 28
The admiral did not stay long; he presented his story and left, while Elizabeth and Darcy remained stunned, bewildered, looking at each other.
They continued to discuss the matter, although there was little to be said. It was obvious that the admiral had considered the matter for longer than the last week, and his decision was not to be changed.
Until dinner, they spoke of little else; even Jane’s engagement to Bingley was given little attention, and they only changed the subject when they were joined by Georgiana and Mrs Annesley.
Darcy was thoughtful the entire evening, and Elizabeth felt his pain. He seemed torn between what the admiral thought was right and what his conscience dictated to him.
When they retired for the night, Darcy was still thoughtful; they separated at the door to her chamber, and then later on, Darcy came to say good-night, as was his custom. Elizabeth was looking at the roses that seemed to smile from their vase, and she smiled at her husband.
“This was not quite a merry anniversary,” he said. “It seems I am not proficient at courtship.” He smiled bitterly.
“It might have not been merry, but it was happy. I am happy, Fitzwilliam, although I know you are now sad.”
He embraced her, and she leant her head against his chest.
“I am happy too, Elizabeth. This week since you have been my wife has brought me joy, peace, and hope. I am glad to hear you are happy too.”
“Did you doubt it? Could you not see that I was happy? Could you not feel it?”
“I could, but I still feared that I might be assuming more than there was, as I have done before.”
“You cannot assume more, as there is already so much,” she replied, taking a step away from him so she could see his face.
Then she stepped completely away, and he was ready to leave her, but she blew out the candles, one by one, until only the light of the fire remained in the room. She returned, looked at him again, and placed her arms around him.
“I have been married to you for seven days, but I am not your wife yet. I wish to be, with all my heart. I am not tired, nor dizzy from the wine, but I would like to become dizzy from your kisses,” she whispered, her daring words making even her shiver.
He was standing still, looking at her, while her eyes sparkled at him. She removed her robe, and the nightgown revealed her arms, her shoulders, her neck, and her hair falling loosely down her back in heavy curls.
“I am already dizzy, and I have not even touched you yet,” he said.
“Please do so,” she whispered, sighing with pleasure when his arms imprisoned her, carrying her towards the bed. He set her down against the pillows, while his eyes never released hers.
“I wish nothing more than to be your husband, Elizabeth. I have wanted it for a long time and dreamt of it so often.”
His lips captured hers gently, tasting them, but the thirst soon turned from tenderness into a fervour that left both breathless, and only the need for air separated them.
He looked at her as she was lying still, her eyes closed. He leant closer, inhaling her scent, kissing her eyelids.
“Elizabeth? Please look at me, my love.”
She smiled shyly, breathing irregularly.
“You must tell me what you wish me to do,” she whispered.
He covered her face with kisses and tantalised her ear, then his lips rested upon hers.
“Nothing special, unless you want to. Or you would do better to tell me what you want me to do…”
She shivered, her heart racing, and leant closer, his body almost crushing her. He supported his weight on his elbows, looking at her from only inches away. Their bodies brushed against each other through the thin fabric of their night clothes.
Their eyes held, their lips almost touching, and she entwined her fingers in his hair.
His lips returned to caress her face, her jaw, her throat; then he stopped and looked at her again.
“I have dreamt of kissing you so many times,” he said.
“You have already,” she said, breathless.
“Not as I would wish to.” He smiled. His face was so near, and she admired his handsome features as he whispered, “You are so beautiful…”
His lips finally met hers, and she abandoned herself to him.
She let out a small cry when she felt his legs parting hers and resting between them.
He stopped again, looking at her for a sign of disapproval which did not come.
Then he pulled up her nightgown, brushing over her thighs, while the passion and eagerness of his kiss never ceased.
He rolled from atop her and removed his shirt, and her eyes gazed at his bare chest. He took her hand and kissed her fingers, her palm, and her wrist, then along her arm to her shoulder, where he lingered for a moment.
The sweet exploration continued along her neck, down to her throat, and then he stopped and looked at her again.
She gulped for a little air and licked her lips.
His eyes held hers as his fingers slowly and gently brushed over her breasts.
Her back arched, while she moaned with surprise and pleasure.
His hand touched, felt, and caressed the softness of her breasts, closing upon each of them with possessive tenderness.
There was no haste in his movements, only a sweet, slow torture that made her head spin.
His hand travelled gently along her body, sliding down along her ribs, lingering on her belly, then caressing her hips. Her body quivered, and her fingers tightened in his hair while his lips found hers again.
She struggled to breathe as his eyes locked with hers, but she could not bear his stare for too long. A smile she had not seen before twisted his lips, and she closed her eyes when his fingers caressed her breasts again, sending waves of warmth through her.
She heard her husband groaning, and she felt his caresses on her thighs. She realised she was now completely naked, and the caresses returned to her lower body, making her lose any coherent thought.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, kissing her face while his hand continued its conquest. His strokes tantalised her legs some more, then, to her shock, his hand moved higher, to the spot that burned her the most. Her back arched, and her moans increased when his hand began to move, first gently then more daringly.
“I want to kiss you,” he whispered, and she wondered what he meant, since he had kissed her so many times already. He showed her a moment later, when his mouth hungrily tasted every inch of her skin that his hand had already caressed.
A trail of warm kisses encircled her breasts, his lips closing upon the soft hardness to capture it.
Elizabeth cried out and bit her lip; every stroke left her wanting more, every touch gratified a deep, burning need inside her, sending waves of pleasure through her body.
She could not and wished not to open her eyes and meet his gaze.
“Please look at me, my love,” he whispered, but she needed some time to gather herself.
“I have dreamt of you so many times. I have dreamt of this,” he said.
“I have never dreamt…never imagined this,” she admitted.
He tenderly tasted her lips again, while his hands eagerly touched and caressed her softness.
Soon enough, he abandoned her mouth and travelled back to her breasts, while his hand climbed back down to the warmth of her thighs, and she moaned even before she felt his touch.
But nothing could have prepared her for the shock of feeling the softness of his lips on the soft spot between her thighs or the unbearable pleasure that overwhelmed her.
He gently conquered her until she knew nothing else and shuddered violently under the countless chills that burned her skin.
Her senses finally returned, but her entire body still trembled. His hands, strong but tender, cupped her face, kissing her tenderly. His gaze darkened when he whispered, “You are becoming my wife now.”
He moaned, and her heart nearly stopped as he entered her and his body finally joined with hers, breaking the last barrier between them.
Her nails dug into his back, and she cried out again, while her body stiffened in pain.
He stopped, remained still inside her, and kissed her face. His hands gently caressed her, helping her to calm and relax.
“Does it hurt?”
“Only a little. I knew it would. Please do not stop.”
His hands glided between their bodies, caressing the parts of her that already craved his touch. She felt him inside her, invading her body with his passion.
“This is so perfect,” he groaned while his thrusts shook her body, gently, slowly at first, then became more intense, stronger, harder, eager, faster.
The pain increased, then dissipated, mixed with a pleasure that slowly enveloped her entire body. His mouth trapped hers, his tongue moistening her swollen, dry lips while her moans mixed with his, her soft cries with his deep groans.
Her hands tightened on his back while her body began to move beneath him, and she completely lost herself until he finally reached the long-desired moment, shuddering in release and spreading warm waves inside her trembling body.
“You are my wife now,” he whispered, long moments later, when they could breathe again.
“I am your wife. My body is now yours, as my heart has already been for a while.”
He looked at her, incredulous, caressing her beautiful face.
“I know my feelings very well now, Fitzwilliam. Not from tonight but from before. Even when I accepted your proposal, you had my heart, but I did not know it.”
She touched his hand and smiled at her own recollections.
“When we danced at Netherfield, I knew your touch was something I had never felt before. I believe I knew it even before that, but I could not recognise nor admit it. After all, you called me tolerable and refused to dance with me, remember?”