Chapter 23 #2
“Your concern is greatly appreciated, but please do not worry about my comfort,” he assured her and gently tilted her head so their lips met again.
The urgency of his kiss took Elizabeth by surprise—as they had just agreed they should stop that kind of activity; however, she hesitated only a moment before wisely determining it was her duty to obey her husband’s wishes.
“Let us discuss lace,” Darcy said breathlessly sometime later.
∞∞∞
At Netherfield, Caroline Bingley had all her belongings arranged in the carriage and wanted nothing more than to be on her way as soon as possible.
She could no longer tolerate Mrs Bennet’s smug grin, Charles’s dumb smile or Jane’s complacent countenance.
Impatiently, she rolled her eyes in exasperation as Mr Hurst indulged in yet another glass of wine and Charles expressed once again his regret for their early departure.
Finally, Louisa and her useless husband were settled in the carriage, and Caroline’s journey commenced.
She felt pleased, confident and full of anticipation for the tour she would start in a couple of days.
For the next several months, she would be in Lady Sophia’s select company—the company she deserved.
This would be the perfect occasion to find an excellent husband—and she would sever forever any ties with the Bennets!
As for Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy—if he could not recognise and appreciate her worthiness, it was his loss.
From then on, he would be forced to bear Eliza Bennet and her family forever.
He would surely come to regret her—she was certain of that—and this perspective kept Caroline Bingley cheerfully distracted for the remainder of their journey to London.
∞∞∞
Dressed in her nightgown and robe, her hair flowing over her shoulders, Elizabeth paced the room, brushing her fingers over the furnishings.
Darcy had accompanied her to her chambers an hour earlier and then left, promising he would return soon. She knew she needed privacy to prepare herself for what was to come, but she already missed his presence dearly.
Her maid helped her with her bath and prepared her for the night—and now, with everything arranged, Elizabeth was waiting alone in the large, silent, elegant room. Mrs Darcy’s chamber!
Her apartment was spectacular; it was not so much the grandeur or the richness that impressed her, but all the beauty around her and the thought that, from that day on, everything belonged to her—the former Elizabeth Bennet. For the first time in her life, Elizabeth felt intimidated.
She returned to the bed and stared at a box, elegantly wrapped.
It was likely a present for her, but she did not open it, although she could hardly restrain her curiosity.
Darcy had seemed to notice her interest, and she was certain she had seen him smiling mischievously, but he had departed before she could inquire further.
What could it be? It was clearly too large a box to contain jewels and too small for a gown or bonnet. Perhaps some books? But why would he offer her books so secretly on their wedding night? Surely, he did not intend to read, she thought as her cheeks burned. Oh, where was he?
∞∞∞
Jane Bingley did not dare move—or breathe.
She was completely undressed and her husband’s arm held her tightly against his bare chest; her breasts were almost painfully crushed to him.
Every movement—including their breathing or the beating of their hearts—caused their bodies to brush against each other.
She felt exhausted and stunned as much as she was ashamed and incredulous at everything that had occurred between them.
Cassandra had told her that the experience of becoming a woman would be a pleasant one, but pleasant was hardly a proper word for what she had felt; in truth, she was too mortified even to contemplate everything her husband had done to her, but she vividly remembered it had been much more than pleasant.
She would have never imagined Charles behaving in such a way—so unrestrained, so passionate—almost demanding in his insistence on defeating her embarrassment and modesty.
With shame and delight, happy that her red face could not be seen nor her thoughts read, she remembered how he had removed her nightgown while she struggled to keep her body hidden; how he impetuously covered her body with shocking, intoxicating kisses, how he kept asking her if she enjoyed what she was feeling.
Oh, she did enjoy everything—she truly did.
Her body was exhausted by her husband’s passion, and the pain was still sharp inside her, yet—to her own astonishment—Jane hoped he would repeat his attentions very soon.
Cassandra had told her she would like being married to Charles—and Cassandra had been right again. She is so smart, and she knows so many things! Jane mused with gratitude, nestling to her husband’s chest.
Charles Bingley was the happiest man in the world—and the proudest. All his fears and worries were now gone, and he was holding closely in his arms his beautiful Jane, the woman who had offered him everything that he had dreamed—and much more.
A trace of guilt shadowed his contentment, as he knew he had been ofttimes too impatient.
But he was at least pleased to know that the only inconvenience she had suffered was embarrassment.
She seemed ashamed most of the time—he knew that.
She even begged him to allow her to cover herself with the sheets at one point, but he had silenced her with his kisses.
And she did like being kissed—he had no doubts.
How sweet she was in her complete abandon with him!
And how incredibly beautiful she was as she took her pleasure—a pleasure he was giving her, and one he hoped he would be allowed to bestow on her again very soon.
The colonel was right—it was the same, yet so incredibly different from anything Charles had ever experienced. And his adored Jane was not an angel to dream of but a most beautiful woman to caress, to kiss, to pleasure, to love—and share a life.
Yes indeed—the colonel was right. But again, Charles mused, he is always right. He is so damn smart and knows so much about everything!
∞∞∞
“I see you did not open the box, Mrs Darcy.” Darcy’s voice broke the silence, and Elizabeth startled and stepped away from the bed, as though she had been caught doing something improper.
“No, I did not. I…”
Elizabeth glanced at her husband and her eyes remained fixed on his intense gaze. Though she had seen him informally attired before, his appearance made her body shiver and her mouth turn dry.
Darcy smiled at her and stepped forward; she looked at him, mesmerised, and his every step made her tremble. She quivered and licked her lips; he smiled again. A moment later, he was so close that his scent intoxicated her.
“Do you not enjoy surprises, Mrs Darcy?”
“Of course I do, but I was not certain whether I should open the box. I was not sure it belonged to me.”
“And to whom could it possibly belong as it is on your own bed?”
“You should not tease me at moments like this, sir. I am quite nervous as it is.”
A trace of concern passed over Darcy’s face for a moment. “Are you truly worried, Elizabeth?”
“Indeed, I am,” she whispered. Her eyes lowered to the floor, and his anxiety increased. “I cannot stop worrying about…what is in that box!” she continued and laughed. He breathed in relief and then suddenly lifted her in his arms, almost suffocating her against his chest.
“I see you find great delight in teasing me, Mrs Darcy,” he said, but she had no time to reply before he captured her lips.
Her legs were not touching the floor, and her body was crushed against his, her arms entwined around his neck; she could not breathe, but she did not need air—she only needed his scent and his warmth.
After a while, he put her down, and she feared—and hoped—he would take her to the bed. Instead, he took her to the little settee in front of the fireplace and bade her sit. Still breathless, she looked at him in wonder.
“Do you not wish to know what is in that box?” he inquired, and for a moment she wanted to say “no”; indeed, she wanted to know nothing except what she knew must happen between her and her husband.
“I do,” she whispered, and he seemed pleased.
In an instant, he brought her the present and sat beside her. A moment later the secret was revealed; an exquisitely carved box rested in Elizabeth’s trembling hands, and its beauty left her breathless.
“Thank you…” she barely managed to say.
“No, do not thank me yet,” he replied and opened the box.
The fascinating sounds of a waltz flowed from the music box, and Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat; tears glistened in her eyes as she stared at her husband in disbelief.
“Oh, William. A waltz? This is. . . I cannot believe that. . . It is so. . .”
“I sincerely hope these are grateful emotions,” he teased, and she burst out laughing nervously as tears filled her eyes. With the music box in her arms, she daringly started to kiss him softly. The music stopped and then began once more. They smiled against each other’s lips.
“Am I to understand you like my present?”
“Indeed I do like it. You are most unpredictable, sir. I never would have guessed the nature of your present.”
“Well, I did promise you some private waltz lessons,” he said, his fingers brushing her cheeks.
“So you did, but I never imagined it would happen tonight. I never imagined you were so fond of the waltz,” she replied teasingly, her hands on the box still trembling slightly.
“I am not fond of dance, and the waltz would be a torture to me with any woman other than you.”
“That is a pretty thing to say, sir. However, I could not help but notice you are truly proficient at it. You must have practiced a good deal,” Elizabeth replied, and a little smile twisted his lips.