Chapter 14 #2
He looked equally surprised and delighted, but he sprung up immediately and said, “We should be on the road as soon as possible to reach our first night’s stay.”
“That is what I thought.”
The two made a circuit amongst the guests, saying goodbye, and ending with Richard, Georgiana, Jane, and Mr Bingley, who accompanied them out to the carriages.
Fitzwilliam, not one to be lackadaisical about safety, checked both carriages himself.
The wheels, the straps that bound the trunks to the top, the safety gear.
Satisfied, he commended his drivers with the words, “Everything is perfect, as always. Thank you, men.”
Then he handed Elizabeth in, climbed in himself, and tapped the roof to indicate their readiness.
As the carriages made their way to Meryton and headed towards the main road, Elizabeth still heard the wedding bells ringing, and she felt quite overcome with emotions.
Fitzwilliam immediately drew the curtains over the windows and moved to sit next to her. “Happy tears?” he asked. It was the refrain of the day.
“Very happy. But I am also feeling a bit wistful, knowing I will miss my sisters—some more than others—and I feel a surprising amount of relief.”
“Dear God, yes, I feel so much relief. It felt as if I was going mad whenever we had to say good night and go to separate houses.”
“Can I ask a rude question—or at least a bold one?”
“Please do!”
Fitzwilliam looked so hopeful, Elizabeth had a good idea of the category of rude or bold questions he was expecting. She chuckled and asked, “Does your cousin Thomas suffer from poor eyesight?”
Fitzwilliam was overcome with mirth, shoulders shaking as he laughed. “You picked up on that, did you?” he asked.
“Well, when Mr Bingley called out his name, the viscount bowed to the myrtle tree instead of the man.”
“My lord, that is hilarious. I must relate that one to Richard. It will slay him, of course, but needs must.”
Elizabeth chuckled and said, “I do not believe that having poor eyesight is the least bit humorous, and I would never wish to laugh at someone for their…well, their infirmity. But it is the way the viscount acts so very haughty, and he peers at one and all with that quizzing glass, as if it was a weapon of snobbery, a calculation of others’ worth, a method of intimidation.
But then, it turns out, he needs it to see!
If he were wearing spectacles, and they fell off or were broken, I would not think it at all funny if he bowed to a potted palm, then a statue of Athena, and then a torchère.
No, it is not his inability to see well that deserves a laugh; it is his hiding his need behind a facade of superciliousness. ”
Fitzwilliam sighed and said, “And this past minute sums up so much of why I love you. You sympathise with others, you are kind, and yet you stand up against intimidation and hauteur. And then there is your wit. I am so glad you agreed to bring lightness and warmth to my life.”
“And I am so glad you agreed to bring the scorching darkness to mine,” Elizabeth said.
She looked sideways to his face, to see how he took those words, and discovered him shaking his head.
“Oh, Elizabeth,” he muttered, “I truly do not wish to have our wedding night inside a swaying, jostling carriage. But you make my blood boil and drive me to distraction. Perhaps we should discuss Thomas some more, or perhaps…turnips?”
“Oh, dear, I am afraid that turnips may be much too ribald a topic for my delicate sensibilities. After all, in the past, farmers left their fields fallow, cold and barren, virtually untouched, for months, else those fields would lose their strength. But the magic of turnips is that planting these exemplary vegetables ensures that the ground is never empty. Instead, strength is garnered, energy redounded, with the seeds sown into the furrowed earth and then kept moist by—”
“Wait, wait, wait!” Fitzwilliam’s eyes had grown huge and dark. “Do you know enough about the marriage bed to bring that much double entendre to a discussion of turnips?”
Elizabeth sat up straight and pulled away from him in her discomfort. “What?” she practically squeaked. “What double meaning? I mean, yes, I thought I would tease about the cold, barren, untouched fields. Is that…what you mean?”
Fitzwilliam said, “Yes, and that was very clever. In my efforts to speak of anything that will cool my ardor, I suppose that turnips was not the best idea. But…when you expounded on seeds and furrows and moistness….”
Feeling her cheeks heat, she said, “Ohh…yes, I had not really thought about those words…I do sound like a wanton, do I not? My apologies, sincerely.”
He said, “It is no matter. Come here, relax.” He gathered her back to being near him again and said, “Your mother must have given you a talk. That is something that is done, is it not?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Can you tell me what she said?”
“Well, I assure you, she did not use the words seeds, furrows, or moist! I really…I had no idea…. It is quite sad that I sound so wanton by accident, just talking about farming, is it not?”
“I am positive I will love having a wanton wife—as long as she is only so with me, that is.” He laughed as she tried to pull away again, and he said, “I am teasing, love; I trust you not to speak of moist furrows with other men.”
“Fitzwilliam!!” she said. “It sounds much, much worse when you say it, I assure you!”
“Pray, let us find our way back to the topic, madam.”
“Turnips or what my mother told me?”
“Definitely not turnips. While I agree that they are a splendid addition to crop rotation, I will not speak further of such humble foods. We are Darcys, after all, and we must maintain our standards of only speaking of the finest foods while all alone in our carriage.”
Elizabeth could not stop giggling. Or maybe, she realised, she just did not wish to tell him about the calf’s-feet jelly. But he had asked. “The best advice my mother gave was to trust my husband.”
“Good advice indeed,” he murmured into her hair.
“The most wonderful thing she said was that I would not have to worry about pleasing my husband, because she could see that every single thing I do pleases you.”
“I did not think her so observant. She is, of course, correct.”
“I think you did not like…you know, the things I said about turnips.”
“I liked them a bit too much, actually. I cannot stop laughing over them. At any rate, so far your mother has proved to be brilliant beyond compare. What did she say that was frightening, or horrifying, or depressing?”
“You, sir, are far too clever. How did you know that I told you only the very best part of what was about an hour-long lecture.”
“Oof, an hour? Well, I am waiting for the rather more unsightly bits.”
“Well, there was a rather lengthy discourse on calf’s-feet jelly.”
“You must be teasing.”
“I assure you, I would be more clever in my tease - do you not remember how well I did with turnips?” Elizabeth sighed with the remembrance of her mother’s point of the jelly analogy.
“My mother wished to tell us to lie very still and keep very quiet, and that was when she started talking about how you cannot agitate the calf’s-feet stock, or the jelly will not be clear. ”
“Lie still?”
“Yes. I was positive from…well, you know, your kisses…that you do not wish me to lie still. So I put this in the category of ‘I should trust my husband’ rather than to follow this piece of advice.”
“Thank goodness! Needless to say, I would not wish for you to lie still and keep quiet—no man would wish his partner to do that! Also, I do not wish you to think of the activities of the marital bed as a duty, as something we cannot talk about, as something that I rule over and you have no say in—none of that is what it is about.”
“The other part of her hour-long ‘conversation’ is that we must silently endure the activities of the marital bed as one has to endure a brutal frost or a long time being measured and pinned by a seamstress in an unpleasantly hot room. I suppose ‘silently endure’ is not one of the things you wish me to do?”
“Madam, I take back the errant comment that your mother is brilliant beyond compare. Forgive me, but she apparently knows very, very little on some topics.”
“She knows little about turnips, I am positive.”
“Good God, woman, you are making it difficult not to ravish you in the carriage, danger and propriety be damned.”
Elizabeth chortled. “And now you curse! My ears are surely quite polluted by this time, what with your terrible turnip talk, your cursing, and…well, honestly, my mother’s calf’s-feet jelly was as disturbing as anything you have ever said!”
Fitzwilliam checked his pocket watch, and she was surprised when he changed seats. Now facing her, his face serious, he took her hands and said, “We should be arriving at the inn about an hour from now. I wish to have a serious discussion here in the privacy of the carriage before our arrival.”
She nodded, letting her smile fade in recognition that something important needed to be discussed.
“I was hoping we could celebrate our wedding night at the inn, but I would understand and accept your wishes if you want to wait until we have more…auditory privacy, in the comfort of Pemberley. What is your wish?”
“Of course we will have our wedding night tonight. I hesitate to point it out, but it is called a wedding night for a reason.”
“You are correct, madam, and many couples take bridal tours. I believed we should do a tour later, when the weather is better—and who knows? It is possible that this interminable war will end, and we will have many more choices. I knew that you have never even seen Pemberley. For those reasons, I wished to go to Pemberley, although I will treasure taking you to many places someday.”
“I would love that, but, yes, I long to see my new home.”
“So in addition to rooms for our servants, I should take one bed chamber and an adjacent sitting room, at the inn, correct? I can take two for us, if you prefer.”
“One,” Elizabeth said firmly. “And I expect you to communicate very well about these mysterious non-duties, once we are in privacy…am I correct to have such an expectation?”
“You are correct. We will talk a lot, laugh a little, and possibly try many things. Some of the communication may be non-verbal, but all of it should be mutual. Although I have never been married before, I believe that the activities of the marital bed should be like a conversation between people who respect one another. Give and take, speak, listen, and reply. I know this will be easy for us, because of those kisses.”
“And perhaps all that give and take will be tiring, and we should sleep now so we can have quite a long conversation, once we reach the inn.”
“Aaahh, Lizzy, it is you who are brilliant beyond compare!” Fitzwilliam joined her on the front-facing seat again and wriggled about a bit so that she was able to lean on him, her head cradled on his shoulder.
He grinned down at her, barely moved his lips so he could kiss her nose, and then said, “Let us attempt to follow that brilliant advice.”
“You called me Lizzy!” Elizabeth said.
“I call you Elizabeth most of the time, as you know. But when I cannot go on as I have done, when my resistance is worn away and I have no way of sorting up and down, right and left—then I call you Lizzy.”
“Well, sir, you had best sleep if you cannot tell up from down!”
“But do you not see, Lizzy? You fill my every sense, and I am left with only nonsense thoughts. Just now I was thinking that my every atom is drawn to you as if you were a lodestone and I was flakes of iron.”
Elizabeth lifted her head off Fitzwilliam’s shoulder, saying, “And you expect me to sleep with all of that hanging in the air?”
“Shh, Lizzy. Let us both follow the advice of the lovely and wise Elizabeth. Let us at least try to sleep.”
Elizabeth was very sure, as close to him as she was, that she would not sleep. She was, however, wrong.