Chapter 4 #2
“That is easily remedied,” Darcy replied, taking his seat at the head of the table as the first course was served. “I have arranged an account with the modiste my sister patronizes. She will call tomorrow to measure you for a new wardrobe.”
Elizabeth’s expression clouded slightly. “That is very generous, but I would not wish to be an excessive expense.”
“You are my wife,” Darcy said firmly. “Your appearance reflects upon the Darcy name. It is not generosity but a necessary provision.”
He could see immediately that his practical approach had been miscalculated. Elizabeth’s spine stiffened, and the warmth in her manner retreated.
“Of course,” she said coolly. “I understand the importance of maintaining appearances.”
Darcy silently cursed his lack of tact. “That was poorly expressed. What I intended to convey is that you need not concern yourself with the cost of anything you require. It is my responsibility and pleasure to ensure your comfort.”
“Thank you for the clarification,” she said after a moment. “I am unaccustomed to such... provision.”
“And I am unaccustomed to explaining my decisions,” Darcy replied, the honesty seeming to ease the tension between them. “It appears we both have adjustments to make.”
The faintest smile touched her lips. “Indeed.”
Conversation flowed more easily after that as they discussed neutral topics: the quality of the food, Elizabeth’s first impressions of London, Darcy’s brief explanation of his business commitments for the coming week.
Yet beneath the civilized exchange, Darcy was acutely aware of the approaching night, and he suspected Elizabeth’s thoughts followed a similar path as the meal progressed and the hour grew later.
When the last course had been cleared, he rose and offered his arm. “Would you care for coffee in the drawing room?”
Elizabeth hesitated before placing her fingers lightly on his sleeve. “Thank you, but I am still rather fatigued from the journey. Perhaps it would be best if I retired.”
Darcy nodded, recognizing the suggestion for what it was: not merely an expression of tiredness but an acknowledgment that they could delay the inevitable consummation of their marriage no longer.
The thought sent a surge of heat through his body that he fought to control.
“Of course. I will accompany you upstairs.”
They walked in silence, the weight of anticipation heavy between them. At the door to her chambers, Elizabeth turned to face him, her expression composed but her eyes betraying her nervousness.
“I shall... prepare myself,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “How long should I expect before...”
“Half an hour,” Darcy replied, his own voice sounding strangely rough to his ears. “If that is agreeable.”
She nodded once, then disappeared into her rooms.
Darcy stood motionless for a moment, gathering his composure before retreating to his own chambers. His valet awaited him, assisting him out of his evening clothes and into a silk dressing gown with the silent efficiency of long service.
“That will be all, Garrett,” Darcy said, dismissing the man earlier than their usual routine would dictate. “I shall not require your services again tonight.”
If the valet found this departure from normal procedure noteworthy, his impassive expression revealed nothing. “Very good, sir. Good night.”
Left alone, Darcy poured himself a small measure of brandy, downing it in a single swallow before moving to stand before the fireplace. The flames cast shifting shadows across his features as he contemplated the moment to come.
He was no innocent. There had been discreet liaisons in London and during his university years—arrangements between consenting adults with clearly understood boundaries and expectations.
But this was entirely different. Elizabeth was his wife, not a widow seeking temporary pleasure or an actress accepting gallantry in exchange for favors.
What transpired between them tonight would establish the foundation of their marriage, for good or ill.
She did not trust him. The knowledge burned more than he cared to admit.
She believed him capable of orchestrating their compromised situation, of manipulating her into this marriage to satisfy his own desires.
It was an irony that those desires had indeed existed, unacknowledged even to himself, from their earliest meetings.
When the half hour had elapsed, Darcy extinguished all but a single candle and moved to the connecting door between their chambers.
He paused, his hand on the latch, suddenly uncertain.
Should he knock, or would that formality merely increase her anxiety?
Was she prepared for his arrival, or would he intrude upon her privacy too soon?
“This is absurd,” he muttered, annoyed at his own hesitation. She was his wife. They had vowed before God and witnesses to become one flesh. There was no impropriety in what they were about to do.
Yet he knocked gently, unwilling to startle her with his sudden appearance.
“Yes?” Elizabeth’s voice came softly from within.
Darcy opened the door to find her chamber dimly lit by a single branch of candles near the bed, which a servant must have lit while she still dined with him.
Elizabeth stood beside it, a vision in white muslin, her dark hair loose around her shoulders as it had been when he first saw her in the cottage.
The nightgown was modest, high-necked and long-sleeved, revealing nothing but her face and hands, yet Darcy felt his body respond instantly to the sight of her in such intimate attire.
“Elizabeth,” he said, his voice rougher than intended.
She lifted her chin in that characteristic gesture he had come to recognize as her preparation for facing difficult circumstances. “Mr. Darcy.”
“Fitzwilliam,” he corrected gently, closing the door behind him. “Under the circumstances, I think my given name would be appropriate.”
“Fitzwilliam,” she repeated, the syllables uncertain on her tongue.
He remained by the door, sensing her nervousness. “We need not rush. There is no one here but us.”
Elizabeth clasped her hands before her to still their trembling. “I confess I am not... that is, I have little knowledge of what is to come.”
Though he expected this answer, her vulnerability in that admission touched him. Darcy moved closer, stopping when still an arm’s length separated them.
“I will be gentle,” he promised. “If at any point you wish me to stop, you need only say so.”
Surprise flickered across her features. “Is that permitted? I had understood that a wife’s duty—”
“This is not duty,” Darcy interrupted, more forcefully than intended. He moderated his tone before continuing. “At least, it should not be only that. There can be pleasure in the marriage bed, Elizabeth. For both parties.”
Her eyes widened. “My mother suggested I should merely endure what must occur.”
Darcy felt a surge of irritation toward Mrs. Bennet for instilling such anxiety in her daughter, followed by determination to prove the woman wrong.
“Your mother does you a disservice,” he said softly. “You need not merely endure my attentions. Indeed, I hope you might come to welcome them in time.”
Color rose in Elizabeth’s cheeks, but she did not look away. “You speak very frankly.”
“I see little benefit in artifice between husband and wife, particularly regarding such matters.” He took another step closer, near enough now to catch the subtle scent of lavender that seemed to cling to her skin. “May I kiss you, Elizabeth? Properly, as I could not in church?”
She swallowed visibly, then nodded once.
Darcy raised his hand slowly, giving her time to retreat if she wished, and brushed his fingertips against her cheek. Her skin was incredibly soft, warming under his touch. He traced the delicate line of her jaw before cupping her face gently and lowering his mouth to hers.
The kiss began softly, a mere brushing of lips.
When Elizabeth did not pull away, Darcy deepened the contact, his lips moving against hers with gentle insistence until he felt her begin to respond.
Her inexperience was evident in the tentative nature of her participation, but there was curiosity too, and it made his blood heat.
When he finally drew back, her eyes remained closed, her lips slightly parted. She looked utterly beguiling.
“That was... different from before,” she said when her eyes opened, a touch of wonder in her voice.
“Different was my intent,” he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.
Elizabeth’s gaze dropped to his lips, then returned to his eyes with new awareness. “I begin to understand why my mother considered such knowledge dangerous for unmarried daughters.”
The humor in her observation delighted him. “Indeed. Shall we discover what other dangerous knowledge awaits us?”
Her smile was tentative but genuine. “I believe that would be proper, given our married state.”
Darcy offered his hand, and after a brief hesitation, Elizabeth placed her fingers in his. He led her to the bed, which had been turned down to reveal crisp white sheets, and gestured for her to sit. She complied, her movements graceful despite her evident nervousness.
He remained standing, aware that his height might intimidate her in such a vulnerable moment. “May I extinguish some of the candles? Not all,” he added quickly, sensing her anxiety. “But the light can be distracting.”
Elizabeth nodded, and Darcy moved to blow out several of the candles, leaving only two burning beside the bed. Their golden glow softened the room, creating an intimate atmosphere that felt removed from the world beyond their chamber.
He returned to her side, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. “I would like to touch you,” he said quietly. “To learn what pleases you.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught audibly. “I do not know what pleases me.”