Chapter 6
“A kiss is a very frivolous thing and unnecessary for satisfactory marital relations. If you must kiss, keep it brisk and businesslike and do not linger.”
-Lady Catherine de Bourgh
Even though it had started snowing, my husband had gone to make some parish rounds.
I looked anxiously out the window, hoping Cook would not be too angry that we were having to push dinner back.
My anxiety grew as the flakes started coming down heavier, big, heavy clumps of snow covering our gardens and yards, and making it impossible to see Rosings from our window.
This is not sensible, I told myself. It was neither logical nor sensible to be so worried about my husband.
There was no way he could get lost in the short distance between homes in the parish.
He was fine. It must be the stress of the holidays that had me on edge.
But I kept one eye anxiously on the window, my ears straining for any sound of him.
It was almost dark when Mr. Collins came in, and he was already talking to me even before the door had barely opened.
My heart gave a leap of relief as I heard his hearty voice, still strong after hours away making calls.
Wait.
I couldn’t possibly.
I couldn’t be in l--, that is, could I possibly be getting overly--.
I tried to collect my scattered thoughts as he blew in in a cloud of snow drifts.
“The roads are most regrettable, my dear Mrs. Collins! I will hurry in and get changed for dinner so Cook does not have to get off her schedule. Excellent woman! And what excellent fare we always have in this house, to be sure! Only dwarfed, of course, by the tender cuts of meat available at Rosings.”
“Of course,” I agreed, and he hurried into his rooms, tracking snow with him as he went.
I went to go tell Cook the good news, then hurried down the hallway to the bedrooms myself. I wanted to make sure William had not forgotten and kept his scarf on, which would dump cold snow all over the soft carpets.
As I approached his rooms, I saw my husband sitting on the bed. His big shoulders were slumped and he rubbed a hand over his eyes. He suddenly looked very tired. I felt a sharp pang of sympathy. Maybe I should have looked away, because he was in a private moment.
And what would have become of us then?
But I couldn’t look away, and I watched in surprise as the clergyman face drained from his body, to be replaced by an aching tiredness.
As much as I couldn’t resist looking, now I couldn’t resist coming in the door. He heard me coming, and I saw him smile tiredly at me.
“Oh, my dear Mrs. Collins, I didn’t hear you there. How are you doing? What a magnificent creation of a cap you are wearing!”
“Oh, William!” I said impulsively. “You don’t have to pretend with me. This is a horrid cap, and I’m only wearing it because it was a gift from Miss de Bourgh! You look tired. Was Mrs. Thornton so awful today?”
“Certainly she has a remarkable amount of agility and vigor for a woman of her age,” he acknowledged.
“Was she after you again about your sermons?” I asked, feeling annoyed.
“She did rather mention that my sermons occasionally have moments of levity,” he admitted. “And she did expand on the topic, saying levity has no place in either a clergyman’s sermons or his heart.”
“Pay her no mind!” I said, impulsively, moving to stand in front of him.
I put my hands on his shoulders. They felt so broad and thickly muscled under my hand. One of his big hands came up to gently take mine, and I felt my heart begin to beat faster.
I didn’t really know how to seduce my husband, and I definitely didn’t know how to seduce him on a Thursday, a day that Lady Catherine had declared should be “wholly free from all fleshly activities.”
I felt so nervous that I turned and would have gone away, but then his big hand gave mine a quick, comforting squeeze.
I looked into his eyes, and suddenly I wasn’t sure that he would be difficult to seduce after all.
Impulsively, in a movement wholly unlike my usual deliberation, I bent down and kissed him.
He kissed me back eagerly, and I shivered as his big hand, the tips rough with his gardening work, went around the back of my neck to pull me closer to him.
Suddenly it seemed wholly natural that I should be sitting on his lap, and he should be tearing off my cap to tangle his fingers in my thick hair, his other hand wrapped snugly around my waist.
I felt a strange wild fire sear through me, my husband’s kiss making me feel strangely warm despite how cool his hands were.
He was kissing me so thoroughly that I felt a little dizzy at the feeling of his hands on me. He was making low noises of a most unclergyman-like nature, too, and I felt suddenly bashful. It was almost like he found kissing me to be the most enjoyable activity imaginable.
I had a sudden, wild thought.
Even though it was not the day for marital activities, would he want them?
I felt a thick length that I knew was my husband’s underneath me. I had never felt it from this position before, Lady Catherine having deemed that all other positions besides flat on my back were suspiciously unchristian.
There was something almost. . .wicked-feeling about the position. It felt almost indecently pleasurable, my body grinding down on his.
But I liked it.
There was a moment when his hips lifted up in the air, and I gasped aloud.
And then there was a brisk, ringing knock on the door, and it was Cook’s assistant, wanting to know if we were ready to eat.
I climbed off my husband’s lap in some confusion, and I heard his heavy breaths.
“I am sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what came over me. I know it is not healthful today. My apologies, my dear.”
“It is fine,” I said in a small voice, so quiet I wasn’t sure if he heard me. But he was master of himself again, and he swept me into dinner and he firmly adhered to Lady Catherine’s precepts on health for the rest of the night.