Chapter 24
The entire Town was covered with snow, and Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with delight as she walked the gleaming white paths on her husband’s arm.
Since the first morning of their married life five days earlier, they had taken long strolls in the same park where they had met in June.
Apart from this meaningful digression, they preferred to stay home and enjoy their newly discovered marital bliss.
Though they received many invitations, they accepted none.
Neither was disposed to entertain either strangers or friends; they had yet to see Cassandra and Georgiana or the colonel.
A day earlier, the Gardiners had returned from Hertfordshire, and the newlyweds did call—briefly—in Gracechurch Street.
However, they declined to remain for dinner, and wisely, Mrs Gardiner did not insist.
Their time was spent mostly in the library or the music room, and with every passing day, their bond became stronger as they came to know each other more intimately—in every sense.
She was as lively as ever, whereas he was less restrained and less serious than before—a change quickly noticed by everyone around them, and with her naturally easy ways, Elizabeth became the favourite of the staff almost as soon as she entered the house.
Darcy was somewhat annoyed one morning when he overheard two maids gossiping about how fortunate they were that he had chosen a wife so different from him in disposition and manners.
For a moment, he had considered dismissing them but then thought better of it.
After all, they were right; he knew he was a fair master, and the servants were content with their lives in his home, but he had never been a joyful presence.
Elizabeth, however, brought liveliness to his home—and to his life.
“We should return home,” Darcy said, covering her gloved hand with his. “Your bonnet is covered with snow, and your cheeks are crimson. I am sure your feet and hands are frozen.”
“I am not cold at all, quite the contrary. I have always enjoyed walking through snow. I feel very well, exceedingly well, I might say!” she laughed at him, and he felt an urge to kiss her red cheeks.
“Very well, we shall stay fifteen more minutes. Is that acceptable?”
“Am I allowed to negotiate, sir?”
“Not really, as you promised to obey me,” he replied with mocking severity.
Thus began one of their little games during the last few days.
They teased each other until their play turned into a minor skirmish.
He loved to see her blush and then narrow her eyes in search of a sharp reply.
Her lips twisted and her eyebrow raised in challenge reminded him of the beginning of their acquaintance and their lively conversations at Netherfield.
The only difference was that now he could do what he was not allowed back then: whenever he felt she was about to win their arguments, he simply made use of his strength and silenced her with a kiss.
She always accused him of improper behaviour, and of course, she was right.
“Be as you like, sir, I shall obey; besides, we have to prepare for dining at Cassandra’s tonight.”
“I am glad; I would not want you to catch a cold and be ill all the way to Pemberley.”
“Will there be snow at Pemberley, do you think?”
“I hope so…for your sake.”
He removed snow from her hair and briefly touched her face, but it was warm.
“I told you I am not cold,” she whispered.
“So you did,” he agreed. “I should have known that you are always as warm as a sunny day.” With a short glance around, he placed a soft kiss on her cheek.
They returned home through snow that was now ankle-deep.
Elizabeth’s petticoat seemed frozen, yet she did not mind at all.
She continued to chat with Darcy, and every time she looked at him, the snow falling from the sky tickled her face, and she laughed as she lost herself in her husband’s loving gaze.
“Thank God you are home!” the housekeeper cried as soon as they entered, in a tone more proper for a mother.
“You must be frozen—you should go upstairs immediately; your baths will be ready within minutes. A cup of hot tea will do wonders for your state,” she added as she removed Elizabeth’s bonnet.
“Thank you so much, Mrs Abbot. You are a mind reader.” Elizabeth smiled warmly. “Hot tea and a warm bath will be truly wonderful.”
The efficiency of Darcy’s staff was proven—again—less than a quarter hour later when the mistress and master of the house were each enjoying a cup of delicious tea inside their warm tubs.
As soon as the hot water enveloped her, Elizabeth felt drowsy and closed her eyes, sighing with contentment.
Her body was heavy with fatigue, and her eyelids seemed unwilling to open.
In fact, it was not quite fatigue, but more a lack of sleep.
She had not slept an entire night in more than a month, first from apprehension before the wedding, and then…
She felt her cheeks burning at the thought of their previous nights.
Her husband had shared her bed every night as he promised, and it was bliss to sleep in his arms. Well, actually, it was not quite sleeping as most of the night was spent in…
certain activities. And afterward, it was difficult to fall asleep; his scent, his warmth, his arms confining her—every sensation was entirely new for her.
Consequently, she usually slept only a few hours before the sun was up and she had to awaken.
Of course, she could have slept longer during the day, but that was unacceptable. How could she spend the first days of her marriage sleeping and abandoning her husband? That would not do—especially when she had the fortune to marry the most generous, kind and loving husband!
Indeed, Darcy was everything she had hoped for and so much more. Every day she spent with him was a chance to discover fresh, intimate details that only made her love him more.
Many of his former habits remained, of course—including the mask of severity that marred his countenance when he was displeased or preoccupied with something; but it was no wonder that he was frequently serious.
She understood only a smattering of his duties from the papers that constantly covered his desk.
There was a variety of people dependent upon him and numerous responsibilities to burden him; she invited him to share his worries, and he was as surprised—and pleased—with her interest as she was gratified by his confidence in her.
He did not hesitate to answer any of her questions or to explain anything she wanted to know about his business.
She felt treated not just with deep affection, but also with great consideration; he declared that he felt spoiled by her love and by her genuine interest in everything connected with him. What more could she want?
Then, when the evening came, they would retire to their apartments. There, he set aside all restraint, self-control, rules, and duties. There he was simply her husband.
One evening—the third day of their marriage—she pointed this out, and he replied while taking her in his arms, “I am your husband all the time, my dearest; here I am your lover.” And so he was.
Though Elizabeth had known something of a wife’s duties before her marriage, her knowledge was contradictory.
She had heard—from many whispers spread around—that those activities were unpleasant for a lady, and that most women tried to keep their husband’s nightly visits as infrequent as possible.
In fact, those un-pleasantries were the main reason many ladies accepted that their husbands kept mistresses.
Elizabeth started to question the accuracy of this theory when she was about sixteen and had heard that some ladies of society kept lovers themselves.
Why would a lady indulge in such activities, risking the ruin of her reputation, if those activities were abhorrent?
She even dared to address that delicate question with her Aunt Gardiner, and the lady laughed for a time before she regained her composure enough to offer Elizabeth an answer—one that was honest, albeit ‘dressed’ in suitable language.
Elizabeth never doubted her aunt, so she trusted implicitly the revelation that, where there was affection and understanding between man and wife, and where the husband was concerned not only for his well being but for his wife’s as well, the intimacy of marriage was nothing to be anxious about—quite the contrary.
Moreover, since the first moments she had admitted her feelings for Darcy, every time he touched her hand, danced with her, or merely smiled at her, the shivers that spread over her body were excellent indications that her aunt had been right in this—as always.
Of course, their engagement—as trying as it was—offered Elizabeth more reasons to feel confident and desirous of what would come in her marriage. However, everything she thought she knew proved to be pale in comparison to the reality of her wedding night.
That was not a duty to perform; it was the most intimate way of receiving her husband’s love through his unleashed passion.
Of course, Elizabeth understood very well how fortunate she was among so many women who were less happy in their marriages.
She knew that the exquisite pleasure her husband so generously offered her every night was something most precious.
His soft, breathtaking kisses and tender caresses were proof of that care and consideration her aunt had spoken of so many years ago.
In truth, she felt that Darcy was more concerned with her wishes than his and preoccupied with giving her pleasure long before he sought his own.
In those significant days since her wedding, Elizabeth learned that, for him as a man, the pleasure, the fulfilment came from the act itself—precisely that part of their lovemaking that was less pleasant for her as it was still a little painful and somewhat awkward.