Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
At the appointed hour, Darcy stood at the altar of St George’s and watched her approach on the arm of her father.
He took deep breaths that did nothing to assuage his breathlessness nor calm the pounding of his heart.
Is this true? Will she truly be mine? It was too much felicity to be borne. His mind would not make sense of it.
Then she looked up, catching his eye, and for a moment, only the two of them were present.
He hoped she could see the emotion in his eyes for, poor, stupid man that he was, he knew he could never explain it to her.
The words “I love you” seemed woefully inadequate.
Nevertheless, he could not stop his lips from forming the words, soundlessly mouthing his declaration to her, unsure whether she understood what he said.
And she smiled.
It was a delicious, private smile, her eyes locked on his, and it told him she was glad to be his and happy to make these vows to him. He felt the heavens open as a tear came to his eye, and he had to blink, hating the need to remove his eyes from her for a fraction of a second.
She joined him at the altar, and the vicar began the service.
The vicar droned on, pronouncing the words with painstaking solemnity, seeming to linger forever in the beginning part of the service. Darcy mentally hastened him along, wishing for the point where he would hold her hand.
…if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well assured, that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God’s Word doth allow are not joined together by God; neither is their Matrimony lawful…
At last, it was upon them. Their hands joined and they made their promises, one to another.
Their vows seemed so meagre to Darcy. He wished to say more, to tell her he would protect her and make her happy and ensure that she felt loved every single day of her life. He wished to tell her that she was a part of him in a way no one else could ever be.
Her ring was from his mother, a Fitzwilliam family heirloom intended for his bride. He placed it on her delicate hand with great reverence, and it fit as if it were made for her. Then they knelt in prayer, shoulder to shoulder, as their marriage was sanctified.
…Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder…
It was finished. They signed the register and walked as man and wife out of the doors and into the waiting carriage.
As soon as they were in the carriage, Elizabeth surprised him by moving into his embrace and tilting her head up to receive his kiss. They were still kissing when they realised that the horses had stopped.
“So soon?”
“The house is regrettably close to the church.” He looked at her lovingly. “I have a splendid idea.”
“What is it?”
“Let us run off. With so many at the breakfast, they will never notice us gone.”
Elizabeth giggled. “Where shall we go? Somewhere disreputable and seedy, perhaps?”
“Only an unfashionable sort of place would do.” He pulled her hand to his lips and sighed. “It cannot last so long, can it? And then we may have peace, together.”
Elizabeth smiled and kissed him once again. “I do like the sound of that.”
Hours later, Elizabeth paced, feeling only a little nervous as she awaited her new husband’s appearance in her bedchamber. She was surprised that she was not more nervous. In truth, she was a bit impatient, wanting this first time to be finished so the anxious anticipation within her would be gone.
It did reassure her to remember how pleasant her marital relations were with Henry.
Henry was a gentle man, and their first time had not been unduly uncomfortable.
After that first night, she thought they had gone on rather well.
Henry was generally quick, and afterwards, they would lie together and kiss and embrace in an enjoyable manner.
She certainly could not complain, and she had nothing to dread or fear.
When the knock came, she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Come in,” she said, sounding a bit breathless. She schooled herself to appear confident and welcoming as Darcy entered.
He was so handsome. It was both disconcerting and enticing to see him in so intimate a setting, clad in only a dressing gown and, presumably, a nightshirt. A fit of stupidity struck her—she knew not what to do with herself—so she moved immediately to the bed.
“Should I…let us…”
“Will you join me by the fire for a moment?”
“Of course.”
They sat in silence by the hearth. She stole a glance at him and, seeing his pulse throb in his neck, knew he was nervous too.
“Are you well?” he asked. “A second wedding night, such as it is, must seem—”
“Does that bother you?” she asked quickly and a bit too loudly. “It bothers me a little. I worry that it is unfair to you.”
“I feel like the most fortunate of men to be here with you as my wife.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “Pray do not be uneasy. If you would like to wait until—”
“Oh no, not at all. There is always going to be some uncertainty the first time no matter the circumstances, but a delay will not help.”
He kissed her hand again and waited until she met his gaze. “Promise me, if you become distressed in any way, you will stop me. This need not occur tonight.”
Something in his tone struck Elizabeth as very dear.
She looked at him, realising how fortunate she was.
Gathering her courage, she kissed his lips.
He immediately brought his hand up behind her head, holding her to him as he responded.
Their kisses grew increasingly ardent until he pulled away and stood, holding his hand out to her.
When they reached the bed, Elizabeth removed her dressing gown and laid it on the chaise at its foot. She turned to see him standing motionless, watching her. She smiled shyly.
“My beautiful wife,” he murmured as he assisted her into the bed and then joined her. “May I ask you something?”
She nodded.
“Is there something you would especially wish me to…I want to please you, but not knowing what you like…” he trailed off, looking discomfited.
Elizabeth was unsure what he meant, but he appeared so uncomfortable that she felt it was incumbent on her to say something. “Nothing particular. I do like to be held and ah…talk…afterwards.”
“Held?” He laughed, looking relieved. “I shall hold you all night long if you wish.”
“All night? Truly?” She was surprised; Henry had never stayed the night with her.
“I shall gladly stay.”
She did want him to. In fact, she wanted it very much. “Yes, please.”
He began to kiss and touch her. Her first shock, which she thought she managed to conceal, occurred when he pulled off his dressing gown, revealing that he was naked underneath it.
Henry had never been naked, and they had always been under the bedclothes, so in truth, she had seen very little of him or he of her.
Darcy not only threw off his dressing gown, but all the blankets and bed linens were somehow lost off the side of the bed, leaving his nudity on display.
She felt she was on more familiar ground when his hand reached down and eased her night shift up her legs, but that too was a surprise as he pulled it over her head.
To make matters worse, when she was naked, he gazed upon her for a moment that felt like it lasted an eternity until she blushed and turned her face away.
He bent to kiss her neck, saying, “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.”
Elizabeth believed she knew what would occur next, but things did not proceed as she had anticipated. She could see he was erect and wondered that he did not get on with things. Was it not time that he should?
Instead, he kissed and caressed her everywhere: her neck, her breasts, her stomach. As his hands slid down her body, he commenced touching her intimately. Her breathing quickened, and several times, she gasped at a particularly pleasurable touch or sensation.
It was both pleasurable and distressing as nothing of the sort had ever happened to her before.
There had been a bit of a ritual to Henry’s sort of intimacy.
He would come to her, kiss her for a little while, and caress her breasts over her night shift.
While he did that, he would generally put her hand on him through his nightshirt, then ask whether she was ready, raise her gown and his, and it would be short work from there.
In six months of marriage, I do not think Henry ever saw my breasts.
She glanced down at Darcy as he kissed her bosom.
As her pleasure mounted, so too did her panic.
These sensations were taking her beyond the bounds of her control, making her feel a fire in her blood, and were as upsetting as they were pleasurable.
She was in uncharted waters. This was nothing she expected, and she felt as though she might scream or cry or… she knew not what.
Her anxiety increased as the sensations Darcy produced in her grew more maddening. She felt herself shiver at some points and forced herself to remain calm, biting her lip to remain quiet even as it became increasingly difficult to do so.
She was losing control, and she could not like it, no matter how good it felt. I cannot do this. A fine sheen of sweat broke out over her skin, as much due to pleasure as fear.
“Please stop!”
Darcy stilled immediately, moving his hand to rest against her hip. “Have I hurt you?”
“No.” Her breath came quickly as she tried to calm herself, hoping he did not notice her peculiar state, which was a combination of arousal, fear, and a need to scream.
“What is it?”
She could not answer, could not look at him, and at last managed to choke out, “I am not well. I feel ill.” Oh, the look on his face! I have disappointed him.
In a low tone, he said, “Forgive me.”
“No, no.” She turned her face into the pillow feeling as though she might weep with her stupidity, her anxiety, and her embarrassment at being such a poor wife, and on the first night of their marriage, no less.
Her disappointment in herself was acute, but she did not know what else to do.
She was too afraid to abandon herself to him.
She knew not where it might lead if she did.
Finally, he quietly asked, “Shall I go?”
Still facing away from him, she nodded, and within moments, she heard the click of the door as he left her. Her tears began soon after.