Chapter 22
Elizabeth stood between the vanity and the bed, as if she had been walking between the two and somehow froze on the way.
She wore a silky robe that came to her ankles under which he was sure was an enticing nightgown.
Her hair was loose around her shoulders and the lack of petticoats was obvious in the way the gown clung to her figure.
Her eyes were wide and watched him warily, and her hair hung in long curls down her back.
She looks skittish, like a colt that might bolt any minute. He took a step toward her and she leaned away a tiny bit, but didn’t move her feet.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
They had eaten at the wedding breakfast and he had instructed his housekeeper to have a late supper ready for them to eat in their rooms later, but he wanted to say something.
“No, I am well, thank you,” she replied.
What was wrong with her? She seemed suddenly so scared and quiet. This was not the Elizabeth he knew. Perhaps she was still upset about the night before? Should they discuss it? Now?
“Elizabeth, I have wanted to tell you all day, but there never seemed a moment, or any real privacy, but I have wanted to tell you that I am sorry for upsetting you last night. Especially as it was the night before our wedding.”
She looked up at him warily, unsure of his motives.
“Are you sorry we quarreled, or sorry about your behavior?”
“My behavior?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes! You know what I mean, Fitzwilliam, please don’t make us go through it again.
You were rude to my relations. I want to know if you are sorry about that or if you still think they are beneath your notice and only said I may continue to see them because men agree to things that they later regret while they are kissing women! ”
How does she know such a thing?
His confusion must have shown on his face for she said, “Remember? You said that you would give me anything I asked for if I kissed you.”
She smirked and he flushed red.
“Are you saying you were not sincere in your affection last night, but were only acting a part to manipulate me into doing something you wanted?” he cried.
She flushed. “No. I am merely reminding you of something you said to me. I was sincere in my affection, as I always am. You were very… compelling.” She finished quietly and looked down before raising her head again to glare at him. “That does not mean I am not also upset with you.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. This was not at all how he had envisioned his wedding night proceeding.
“What do you want from me, Elizabeth? Please, just tell me.” He sighed in exasperation.
She clenched her teeth and finally bit out, “I want you to be kind to my family. I want you to get to know them and learn to respect them on their own merits, of which there are many. I want them to be welcome in our homes and for you not to restrict me from going to theirs. That is what I want.”
“Done. Now may we put this behind us?” he said quickly in clipped tones. He’d almost said, “Now may we get on with it?” but he stopped himself before making such a foolish blunder.
She sighed and shook her head. This wasn’t going well at all. This day had been wearing, as had the week leading up to it, and the night was to be filled with new and possibly painful and definitely strange experiences. She truly did not wish to begin in such an inauspicious manner.
“Fitzwilliam, might I beg a reprieve?” she asked tiredly.
“A what?” he cried, shock evident in his tone.
“I am exhausted, it has been a very long day, and I would very much like to not begin our married life in a quarrel or with harsh feelings between us. It does not engender warmth.”
He huffed and looked to the side, knowing she had a point. He also knew that he agreed with her; he did not wish to begin tempestuously either. But how had they gotten here? Things had gone terribly wrong.
He heard his uncle’s voice in his head. “How you handle this night will long define your relationship with your wife. A man who is warm and loving will be welcomed by his wife with open arms. A man who is quick and cold will be met by dread. Which do you want to be?”
Was she already dreading this part of their relationship before it even began? He purposely gentled his tone and forced his rigid posture to relax somewhat. Entice, do not demand.
“Elizabeth, I know it has been a trying time lately, for you especially. I propose we start over. How does that sound to you?”
“Start over?” she questioned.
“Yes. Why don’t you lie down and rest for a bit, and I will return in an hour or so. Will that suit you?”
She looked toward the window where the sun was nearly hidden and then looked back at him skeptically. “You will return in an hour?”
“Yes, if you wish it.”
“Very well. I will see you in one hour.” She stood waiting for him to leave so she could climb into the very comfortable-looking bed, but he just looked at her expectantly.
Finally, he took her hand and guided her to the edge of the bed. She climbed up onto it and he tucked the covers around her before placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.
“Sleep well, my love,” he whispered.
She snuggled into the blanket and within a few minutes was fast asleep.
A short time later, Elizabeth woke just as her dressing room door closed.
She noticed a tray with a fresh pot of tea near the empty fireplace and rose to refresh herself and make a cup.
She was just taking her first sip when the door to their shared sitting room opened and Fitzwilliam stepped in quietly.
“It’s all right, I am awake,” she said from the settee. She smiled at him shyly and he returned it.
She was grateful, really. She knew he did not need to give her time to adjust, he did not need to be patient with her or have tea sent up.
But he did these things because he was a good and kind man and while she was wounded from the events of the previous day, she decided not to let it overcloud her good judgment.
So he was proud. What of it? Now he was also her husband and she should focus on his good qualities and hopefully, with time and a little effort, his pride would wane.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked her softly, afraid to startle her.
She felt her heart soften a little more.
“Yes, quite well. Thank you for the time. It was very restorative,” she said the last quietly, hoping he understood her meaning.
He looked at her softly but kept his position near the fireplace.
“You are welcome.”
“Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked.
“No, thank you. I am well.”
She replaced her cup and stood, looking around before settling her eyes on him.
She supposed this was the part where she was supposed to welcome him to her bed, but she had no idea how to go about such a thing.
Should she turn down the coverlet for him?
Plump his pillow? Climb in first and hold out her arms? It all seemed utterly ridiculous!
“What—what should I—what do you wish —” she was flustered and incoherent and making no sense at all. “You must think you’ve married a dunce, Mr. Darcy.”
He smiled and took her hand, coming a little closer. “I think no such thing.”
She had so many questions: What he expected of her, what she should expect of him, what the protocol was for this entire affair.
Would he sleep with her after? Should she invite him to stay?
Or ask him to leave? Which did he expect?
Which did he prefer? Should they speak? Remain silent?
Wouldn’t that be terribly awkward? To be silent for half an hour altogether?
Suddenly she was filled with apprehension.
Did it take half an hour? Less time? More time?
“Dearest, what troubles you?” He rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand, inadvertently making her more nervous.
“I, oh, I have so many questions!” she blurted. Her eyes widened in shock at her admission and he laughed lightly. “Forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive.”
She fidgeted nervously, glancing between him and the floor repeatedly, her face getting pinker by the moment.
“Really, Fitzwilliam, it isn’t necessary for you to laugh at me so! You have me in a very delicate position! You could be gentlemanly about it,” she said with a pout.
He stopped himself from making a joke about the delicate position he’d rather have her in and sat on the settee, pulling her down beside him.
“Now, tell me about these questions you have,” he said.
“I couldn’t possibly! It’s unseemly!” she cried.
He raised a brow. “More unseemly than me being in your private chambers in our nightclothes?” The line between her eyes appeared as she frowned.
“Elizabeth, our roles have changed now. I would like us to be free with each other—especially here. To speak, to act, to share whatever we like. These are our private rooms. You have my word that nothing you say to me here will go beyond these walls.”
“And you will not mock me?” she asked suspiciously.
“I will not mock you. I promise.” He suppressed his grin at the adorable look of resolve on her face. “Now, what is your first question?”
Taking a deep breath, she decided to forge ahead. “How long does it take?”
Darcy flushed and spluttered before saying, “It depends. Sometimes it may be rather quick. No more than a few minutes. Other times, the act could stretch into hours.”
“Hours!”
“Well, including all the activities, not just the portion where—it can be different each time.”
She nodded. “Will it always be here? Do you expect me to come to your room sometimes?”
His eyes took on an interested glow. “Whatever you like, my dear. I am perfectly amenable to you coming to my rooms whenever you like.”
“And do you want to… sleep with me… after?” she asked quietly.
He pulled her closer to his side and she snuggled into him, seeking solace in a form of affection she was familiar with.
And from this angle, he couldn’t see her face or how often she blushed during this very awkward conversation.
She hated how he made her anxious and yet she wanted to be close to him at the same time. Were all men so maddening?
“I believe in the beginning, it would be nice to sleep together. I cannot bear the idea of ever leaving this room, now that I have seen you in such a state.” He touched her hair and ran a hand down the length of her arm while she blushed.
“In the future, we may want to sleep separately. I think we can decide as we go. I will certainly not impose my company on you if you’d rather be alone. I hope you know that.”
“Of course. I would never think it of you,” she said quietly.
“Good.”
“I heard,” she hesitated and fiddled with the lapel on his dressing gown, “I was told that perhaps it happens more than once in a night, especially in the beginning, and that might be why you would wish to sleep with me. Is that true? Can it occur more than once in a night?”
He shifted. “Yes, it can, and yes, it likely will be like that, especially in the beginning, but I would not want to sleep with you merely to have you near for convenience’s sake.
” He shifted so she could see his face. “Elizabeth, I love you. With all my heart. With everything I am. I want to be near you, for no other reason than to bask in your presence. Don’t you see that by now? ”
“Fitzwilliam,” she whispered. She felt overwhelmed by his words and reached out a hand to touch his face softly. She ran her fingers over his nose, along his jaw, and traced his lips lightly, all the while keeping her eyes trained on his as they grew blacker by the second.
Slowly, he bent his head to hers. His lips were surprisingly soft and tender. He had kissed her before, but this kiss was different somehow. She felt it in her toes, if such a thing were possible, and quickly realized the difference between this and every other kiss he’d given her.
This time, he had no intention of stopping.