Chapter 13
Author's note: This chapter contains the wedding night and a few scenes recommended for mature readers. (which can be skipped, if preferred).
The carriage moved slowly, followed by joyful voices and waving hands. The horses stepped through the snowy curtain, and the crowd behind them faded from sight.
Elizabeth lifted her eyes to her husband; their gazes met and held with restrained passion. He stole a kiss then stroked her cheek.
“Are you cold?”
“No—I am fine…”
“I see a trace of sadness in your eyes, my dearest.”
“It is not sadness—only regret. The further we go, the more I feel I shall miss my family dearly. My entire childhood and youth is here, and I have to part from them.”
“Because of me…” he said.
“For you, my love. That makes the regrets easier to overcome.”
“We shall visit Longbourn whenever you want—just as they will always be welcome in our homes.”
“It is a sweet comfort to know that. But for now, I am content to be alone with you.”
“No more than I am. I have been waiting and dreaming of this for more than a year now. For so long, I feared it would never be real.”
“And yet—here we are.”
“Yes, here we are. You, in my arms,” he whispered.
With astonishment, she felt herself lifted and placed on his lap. A small cry escaped; then she laughed, flustered and embarrassed by the pleasure she felt. She leaned against his chest, her hands around his neck, and she shivered.
“You are cold; I can feel it. I should not have insisted on travelling in this weather. I have been selfish once again.”
She decidedly silenced him. “I forbid you ever to call yourself selfish again, husband. I am not cold at all. If I shiver, it is because of you and for you. You should stop worrying about me; I am fine—better than I have ever been, better than I dreamed I could be. You must keep that in mind.”
“I should by no means suspend any pleasure of yours, Mrs Darcy,” he replied huskily.
His embrace sheltered her, and the kiss that she knew—and hoped—would come, satisfied her desire. His tongue tasted her mouth, stirring her senses and defeating any shyness.
Only at that instant did Elizabeth realise how much she missed his company and longed for his closeness, his scent, his taste.
They had little time for tender interludes during their short engagement, so she was still illiterate in matters of intimacy. With a house full of guests and their time split between Netherfield and Longbourn, they were always in others’ company but longing for each other.
Finally alone and tightly embraced in the carriage, as they struggled to keep themselves warm, they fought the fire that slowly grew within them. The journey to London became longer and more difficult than expected.
Clouds darkened the sky and night defeated the day long before they reached their destination.
Elizabeth completely lost track of time, but he did not. The caresses that made her dizzy ceased, and she could not suppress her regret.
He noticed and smiled. “We are almost home, my love. We must prepare to meet the staff. Everybody is eagerly waiting for you.”
“Oh…you are right, of course.”
She cared little about meeting anyone, but she realised the importance of complying with the mistress’s duties from her first step into the house.
She would be observed, judged, and compared to Lady Anne Darcy.
Expectations of her would be enormous, and it was her responsibility to fulfil them.
She owed him as much and prayed she would not disappoint him.
The Town’s streets—desolate, frozen—reflected the occasional street lamp.
“It is beautiful, is it not?” he asked. She rested her head on his shoulder, nodding, looking outside absently, her hands resting in his.
When the carriage finally stopped, Elizabeth could see little in the darkness, but she knew—she felt—the journey was over.
And if she had any doubts, his beatific smile was the most reliable proof.
“Welcome home, Mrs Darcy.”
∞∞∞
From the splendour of her apartment, Elizabeth looked outside the window.
The blizzard was so strong that it seemed to bring the coldness inside.
The hot bath, the maid’s caring help, the burning candles and fire, the exquisite furniture, and the soft sheets—all seemed so real yet so close to a dream—just as were the sound of his steps in the other chamber and his low voice asking something of his valet.
She wondered how long he would wait before joining her.
She was ashamed at her eagerness, yet all her thoughts were filled with their image—together in that inviting bed.
Would he come to her, or take her to his chamber?
Had anyone else slept in that apartment in the last years?
Did his apartment ever host another woman?
She shook off such tormenting musings, moved closer to the window, paced the room towards the adjoining doors and then back again to the window.
She did not hear the door opening, but felt his presence and slowly turned. His gaze was so intense that her entire body trembled.
He stepped towards her as her own feet brought her closer. In the middle of the room, they met, and their hands entwined.
Mesmerized, she watched him playing with the hair falling loosely on her shoulders while his mouth captured hers.
His hand glided down, caressing her neck and her shoulders, then stopped around her waist. She was wearing her nightgown and robe, but all those garments were insufficient to protect her skin from his burning touch.
“Your beauty takes my breath away, Elizabeth,” he murmured.
She felt powerless, but his arms seemed to know that, as they carried her to the bed.
Her body craved his touch, and she could not bear a single moment without his warmth.
She knew he desired her just as much, and she had the proof when his kisses became more demanding and his lips more hungry.
“Please let me know if I am too hasty…if you wish me to stop. I do not want to frighten you.” He struggled to speak while he tasted her skin with a hunger that overwhelmed her.
“Please stop…stop worrying about me. Why would you think I am frightened? Is that what my face tells you?” she teased him.
“No…your face tells me nothing of your fear but of your passion, your love, your devotion. Still, I have to learn to read you better, to be certain of your feelings…”
“As do I…I have even more things to learn from you. But never worry about how I feel when I am with you, Fitzwilliam.”
She tentatively returned the caresses she so much enjoyed, exploring his throat with small kisses.
He bore it for a little while with a groan of pleasure then pushed her back gently and leaned over her.
His eyes trapping hers, he lowered the gown from her shoulders, each spot of her skin shivering under his astounding exploration.
He trapped her mouth in another deep, eager kiss in which she joined him eagerly.
His hands travelled down, and she waited to sense his touch, but she knew little of what to expect.
His fingers brushed lightly over her breasts, and she startled, moaning loudly as her back arched towards his touch.
His caress began shyly then grew daring and more passionate, tracing torturous circles until his palms possessively cupped their roundness and rested there.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “More beautiful than I dreamed in the lonely nights without you.”
She moaned again, turning her head in search of a kiss that he avoided. His mouth followed his hands, greedy to satiate its hunger, tracing a burning line over the soft roundness, exploring and tasting with passionate urgency.
His hand was now free to explore and conquer the last unrevealed parts of her body; his strong yet gentle fingers brushed over her legs through the soft fabric of the gown, then travelled up.
Her thighs hastily locked together, but he continued the conquest as gentle strokes tantalized her legs and parted them daringly.
Soon, all opposition was gone, but she could not suppress a cry when his hand moved a little higher.
She heard him whispering her name but failed to understand his words. His mouth captured her other breast, and she sighed again as her entire body arched.
Her senses shifted between the sweet torture of his lips and the teasing exploration of his fingers on the most intimate part of her body.
With the little reason that remained, she wondered whether such pleasure could truly exist; but he proved that she could feel even more when insatiable kisses replaced his fingers an instant later.
Any reasonable thought vanished as waves of pleasure exploded in her body and everything turned dark around her.
It took some time before she could—and dared—to move and open her eyes. He covered her face with small kisses as she averted her eyes. Her mind told her that what happened was mortifyingly improper, while her senses admitted that nothing more blissfully pleasant could exist.
“You are more beautiful than I have ever dreamed, Elizabeth,” he whispered. “And you are all mine now…”
She looked at him and then nestled beneath the sheets to conceal herself from his intense stare. He removed his nightshirt, and her cheeks coloured as she tried not to look at his naked body. He lay by her side under the silky sheets, and his arms enfolded her.
Her head cuddled on his chest, and she sighed when she could hear his heart beating. Her hands moved to encircle his waist; his skin—so fully exposed to her touch—made her shy, and her hands dared go no further.
“I never thought…everything that happened was so…it was so unexpected,” she dared confess.
His voice changed instantly, and a warm whisper close to her ear made her shiver and laugh.
“May I dare presume you found it unexpectedly enjoyable?”
His voice could barely conceal his mirth; she lifted her head slightly to meet his eyes and cast a sharp glance at him. His tongue tantalised her earlobe, and she quivered with nervous delight.
“You are a cruel man to trifle with me in such a way. This is not a proper time for teasing.”
“You are right, my love. This is the proper time only for love and passion.”
He assaulted her with renewed desire, and Elizabeth surrendered completely. She knew there was more to come before she became his wife in every way, and she was impatient for that moment.
Every touch, every kiss, every stroke was irresistible. Her body seemed to possess a will of its own, and each reaction was a plea for more. For a while, she tried to keep the covers around her, but his greedy hands kept pushing them away.
“Will you allow me to see you? I beg you, my love…”
The battle between modesty and passion was won by the latter.
She barely understood the words of love tickling her ear as his weight suddenly took her breath away. His touches made her tremble; his kisses burned her skin. Inside her, a fire was growing as shivers chilled her skin.
“Please look at me, Elizabeth.”
She obeyed instantly, though her eyelashes felt heavy. He was lying upon her, their faces merely inches apart. His weight took her breath away. But she did not need to breathe. She needed nothing but his closeness, his warmth, his sweet whispers.
“I love you so much, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. More than words can say. More than my heart can bear. My love for you made me a better man—a humble man. You taught me the meaning of love.”
“As did you, my darling husband. I learned the meaning of love and happiness from you.”
His expression changed again, and his eyes caressed her face with infinite tenderness. Elizabeth’s soul melted as her body opened to him. With her love and desire matching his, and with complete, unconditional trust in her husband, Elizabeth offered herself to him.
Her body did not wait to be conquered, and this time, her passion did not wait to be satisfied. Her love did not wait to be fulfilled. She did not wait for him to make her his wife but gave herself to him.
He entered her slowly, with gentle care and sweet tenderness.
She felt him inside her body, just as he had been inside her mind and soul for so long.
Her love burst from every inch of her body to meet his.
She sensed his ardour and restrained passion, and she wished to make him feel the same—to feel her ardent love, passion, and desire for him—his passion and hers joined together.
Their fulfilled desire eventually shattered their bodies, her arms embraced him with desperation, and his lips covered her face with endless kisses. The sound of their wildly racing breaths broke the silence of the chamber, and there was only blissful happiness.
The storm grew outside, but peace enfolded the two lovers who lay exhausted in each other’s arms. It was no longer she and he but them together—wrapped in their ardent love.