The Secrets of Darcy and Elizabeth

Capturing her hand, he brought it tenderly to his lips. “Please forgive my dishonorable behavior. I did not—”

She put a finger to his lips, silencing him. “There is nothing to forgive. You may have shocked the housekeeper, but you did not shock me. I believe I was an equal participant, so I share at least half the blame.”

“No, the fault was mine. I—”

“I am quite capable of protesting if I dislike your behavior.”

He paused to consider that statement and then he allowed himself to believe her words, relief washing through him. She did not blame him! She enjoyed kissing him! His heart sang with love for the woman. He kissed her hand formally. “You are a remarkable woman.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“But, you need to rest and I do not believe that will be possible while I am here. So I will take my leave.”

As he strode away from the parlor he realized that he needed a ride. Yes, a long ride in the countryside, that was just what he needed.

So it was that Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy were united in holy matrimony in the chapel at Whitmore’s manor home. Marie, beaming with happiness, served as the witness, having cheerfully donated her wedding gown to Elizabeth after a maid had altered it. Elizabeth carried a bouquet of flowers she had collected herself from the garden earlier in the day. Her face was framed by a delicate white bonnet, dark curls caressing her cheeks. Darcy thought she had never been more beautiful. As he watched her float down the short aisle toward him, he had a sudden sense of unreality. He still found it hard to credit his good fortune that she had consented to be his!

As Whitmore said the words of the traditional ceremony, Darcy gazed steadily into Elizabeth’s eyes. He had feared to find doubt or hesitation in her face, but she was shining with happiness and he could detect no traces of regret. As they prepared to say their vows, Elizabeth set her bouquet aside, so they could hold hands and recite the time-hallowed words. Nothing could be more joyous or more perfect.

The ceremony over, they walked up the aisle, now husband and wife. Darcy reflected that when he had arrived in France he had not expected ever to see Elizabeth again and had not dared to hope he could ever win her friendship. How far he had traveled in a few short weeks!

After the ceremony, Whitmore and Marie treated them to a small wedding breakfast; Elizabeth then rested for most of the afternoon. When she awoke, the newlyweds took a leisurely stroll in the garden, afterward retiring to their rooms to dress for dinner. Dinner was an especially jolly occasion, with Whitmore proposing multiple toasts to the happy couple. The wine was excellent, but Elizabeth found it necessary to limit her consumption for the sake of her health.

Elizabeth thought Darcy seemed happier and more relaxed than he had appeared in a long time. It warmed her heart that she had brought him such joy. He had taken such scrupulous care of her during her illness and had suffered so much anxiety – at least she could bring him some measure of happiness.

Rather than remaining downstairs for a traditional gathering in the drawing room, Darcy and Elizabeth retired early, knowing that their hosts would understand. Whitmore’s housekeeper had provided Elizabeth with a different guest room that night – one with a larger bed and attached sitting room. Darcy retained his room down the hall following the custom of separate bedrooms for married couples.

Elizabeth had changed out of her wedding gown into a simple, but elegant white nightgown she had brought from England. Darcy had already seen more of her nightclothes than most

grooms did before a wedding, she reflected, but tonight the atmosphere was entirely different.

Now she really was Mrs. Darcy. As she brushed her hair, she searched her heart – as she had been doing for the past week – for any trace of misgiving about Mr. Darcy or the wedding; however, as before, she found none. She had come to understand what an exemplary man he truly was and how fortunate she was that he loved her. His anguish over her illness had demonstrated how deep his love was – and how loyal he was to those he let into his heart. She could not have articulated when she began to love him, but it had settled into her heart by time her recovery had started.

Her only reservation – she could not call it a misgiving – was that her family was not present to share her joy on this day. She felt Jane’s absence most acutely, but she knew Jane would forgive her when she understood the circumstances. Her father would not be so understanding; however, Elizabeth hoped his wrath would be short-lived. Of course her mother would be overjoyed that her second daughter had secured such a wealthy husband, but Elizabeth was happy she had spared Darcy the type of marital preparations her mother would have deemed appropriate – not to mention her effusions about Darcy’s fortune. No, although she loved her mother, Elizabeth could not bring herself to regret her absence. She did miss the Gardiners; they had always provided her with good support and guidance, but, like Jane, they would understand.

Elizabeth also regretted not having an opportunity to get her aunt’s advice on being a married woman. Although she understood the essentials of the marriage bed, much still remained a mystery to her. Marie had sought her out the day before to talk with her and her words had been very reassuring. Still, it would have been good to hear from someone with whom she had a longer acquaintance.

Her stomach fluttered nervously at the thought of the wedding night, a great unknown to her. But then she thought of the previous day in the parlor…how she had felt with his lips on hers and his fingers in her hair. She had felt no apprehension then, only desire. Surely tonight would be no different. She loved William and trusted that love – thinking of that she began to relax.

She heard a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” the squeak in her voice betraying her anxiety. Darcy entered, gazing on her with a frankly desirous look that warmed her inside. He was wearing his shirt and breeches, but had discarded his coat and cravat. Drinking in the sight of him, she admired his naked neck and the firm chest outlined by the shirt.

When she raised her eyes to his face, she noticed that he appeared apprehensive. Elizabeth could not fathom any reason for his anxiety and experienced sudden uncertainty.

“Elizabeth,” he breathed. “You are beautiful – a vision.”

“Thank you.” She was certain she had blushed a bright red.

He strode to her and positioned himself between her legs where she sat on the edge of the bed. Pulling her toward him, he kissed her very thoroughly. She responded with equal passion, swept up in the sensation of his hands exploring her curves through the thin fabric of her nightgown. But, then he pulled back. “I do not think we should…tonight…we cannot take the risk that any activity could set back your recovery.” She knew her face betrayed disappointment. “We can still kiss and enjoy each other’s company,” Darcy hastened to assure her.

“Am I to be consulted about the activities on my wedding night?” She asked tartly. “The doctor believes I will be fit to travel in two days. I feel well. I think I am strong enough for amorous activities!”

Taking her hand, he pressed it ardently to his lips. “I thought you might require some time to accustom yourself to the idea of -- after all, we did not have a long engagement.”

She gave a little laugh. “That is true. But William, I - I want to consummate our marriage. I want to be your wife in all ways—”

“You should not experience an obligation. There is plenty of time for—”

“What I experience is not obligation. What I experience is…desire….” As she exhaled the last word she saw Darcy’s eyebrows shoot up, but she persisted. “The kisses on the fainting couch were just a taste….I am greedy. I want more.” She blushed and looked down as she said it, feeling very wanton, but it was true. Perhaps it was not wanton to express such desires to her husband.