Fitzwilliam Darcy was for the very first time in his life completely and utterly undone.
This would simply not do. His wife, of all of 6 hours clearly had expectations, but how could he possibly ever expect to meet them?
He did not know the correct words or phrases, he was still more often than not a bumbling idiot in her company. When she looked at him, he burned for her and then didn't know what to say or really where to begin or what to do.
No, this would not do.
As he sat across from her in the coach on the way to his London townhouse -no, strike that, their London townhouse, he realized that all of the work he has done wooing and pleasing and doting on his bride for the last weeks before their wedding, had left him grossly and entirely unprepared for their wedding night.
He perceived they were soon to arrive near the outskirts to London, which meant 30 minutes or so to home -and at best an hour to bed. How had all of his careful planning come to this?
Elizabeth Darcy sat nearly immobilized, unsure and frightened as to what had just happened to her sweet, handsome, amiable husband. Barely 6 hours has past since the hour in which he had seemed thrilled at the prospect of joining with her in holy matrimony. From the kisses he had stolen from her during their engagement, she was convinced he was truly attracted to her -that she was was indeed more than tolerable and in point of fact, that she tempted her husband a great, great deal.
Something had happened in the 6 hours since she has signed the wedding registry with her new signature, and as afraid as she was to find out -she was nothing if not determined. Her courage to confront her newest family member rising with each breath she sucked in through her teeth.
"Enough! You will not scowl away the happiness of the day Fitzwilliam, I refuse to let you..."
"Madam, I humbly beg your pardon, but might I request for you to repeat what you just said?"...
"Fitwilliam...Mr. Darcy, do you really need me to repeat it? Are you not fully aware what the last 6 hours in this carriage without a word between us have done to me?"
"Mr. Darcy?...Mr. Darcy? What, Elizabeth, I meant Lizzy, oh, my love, no, no, please, I beg you, you misunderstand me entirely.."
"How Sir? -It seems if my memory serves this is not the first time we found ourselves in a similar circumstance"
"No, indeed Elizabeth, it is not. And that is why I beg you, beseech you to listen to what I have to say, cannot say, but must now convey to you..."
"Fitzwilliam, I had such high hopes of the day, but you have attempted to ruin them with your scowls and messages of doom. Pray tell, what news is it that you feel you must share after this intolerable silent treatment?"
"Oh, my dearest beautiful wife. I will try to put into words how I feel. Please though, I beg you, do not interrupt me until I have finished, my sweet, alright?"
Lizzy sat, unsure of what was to come and what Fitzwilliam would say. The strength of his affection and wishes and feelings she knew in her heart were unchanged. But the kinder, more amiable man she had come to expect over the course of their courtship seemed once again to disappear today.
"Elizabeth...beloved my wife" "You well know, I waited 8 and twenty years to be able to say those simple words. My wife. They do not come easily. They did not flow from my lips with ease, and now, blast my earlier mistakes, I find my words to you do not either. I am terribly sorry if my silence today has caused you pain. Believe me, it was unconsciously done. I have been ruminating this entire journey on how to contain you inside my head. How to trap down the power and depth of my feelings and want for you into something a gentlewoman can handle, appreciate and admire. Rather than the beast that threatens to emerge with each block we draw closer to London.
...we have never spoken of this. I have never spoken of this with you -how could I sully your maiden ears with my base needs, desires and dreams. But Elizabeth, you must know, surely you must that you have me completely undone...
I feel as if I will either burst or evolve into a growing flame now that I know you are mine and promised to me until death do us part. When you rejected me at Hunsford -with all the righteousness of your choice, you left me similarly undone, but in a different way than today of course. Now I find myself scared of the depths of my own feelings and the primal needs which you create within me.
The mere thought of discussing this with you now leaves me horrified at my own conduct. I do not want to frighten you hours before we will cleave to one another as husband and wife, and yet I fear if I do not express the depth of my feelings and thoughts and plans for us -you will run from me in terror. I have been afraid to speak for fear of what will come out of my mouth, what will happen next if I take hold of your hand, kiss your beautiful lips or allow myself to unpin your hair and enjoy any of your feminine wiles while we travel. Your first time -our first time as husband and wife will not be in a coach. And yet I have thought of little else in the last 360 minutes, or 21, 600 seconds. I promise you. I have dreamed of all of the ways I might take you right here, after drawing the shades and ripping your prim little travelling costume from your body.
Those are not the words or actions or thoughts of a gentleman. And so while my soul rallies against the injustice of my base desires, I have found myself unable to do much more than stare at you stupidly, furrow my brow in frustration of our physical proximity and yet interminable distance from our bedrooms in London and the chafing of this ridiculous cravat!
Elizabeth, I want my hands on you and yours on me; my lips in a permanent waltz with yours and our bodies as close as nature intended for a couple who loves as we love.
I know you are just as passionate. I have seen it, and have felt it in the few times I allowed myself to steal a kiss or two during out betrothal. However, now I want more Elizabeth, I want it all from you, and I find to my utter disgust and disappointment, that I am entirely unsuccessful at controlling myself in that I want it all now.
So now, my temptress bride, despise me if you dare. I despise myself at this moment already enough for the two of us. And while that was perhaps my longest speech to you ever, it was definitely the most honest. How will you manage with a brute like myself as your husband? I fear you will want to leave me at the next changing station and head back to Longbourn and as far away as possible from me..."
With that, the normally proud and austere Fitzwillian Darcy hung his head in shame and sat with his hands nearly boxing his ears to try to make peace between the gentleman he knew his wife deserves and the newlywed man his most base urges were inspiring him to be.
Elizabeth Darcy sat for a few moments, trying to take in all her husband had said to her, expressed, felt and clearly needed.
While he was entirely accurate that she did not feel this man who sat in front of her now was the one she had married -that he has said such things to her had caused her to feel heat and excitement in places she had previously never considered.
That she, a gentlewoman of the age she was, who had grown up on a farm and had some basic understanding, -or so she thought on the coupling habits of animals and she assumed of humans too-was now considering, contemplating and leaning towards condescending towards her husbands desires.
That he wasn't rejecting her, didn't have a secret love child, mistress or addition hidden aunt like Lady Catherine secretly in Bedlam was more than a relief. It was positively cause for celebration. What that celebration should be, after he worried her so with the lack of address and then start of his address she would have to think on for a few more minutes. He deserved a small tease if nothing else. For this type of retreat, especially in light of their very recently marriage was not to be borne. She could not let his actions or rather lack their of, go unchallenged and could not, could never allow him to believe that this would be acceptable.
She had endured six hours of silence because her husband could wait to bed her no longer? Ridiculous, ridiculous, lovely, beloved, handsome man. How could she possibly be angry. He was her match in every way. How best to show him her own desires?
Elizabeth looked upon the insides of her husband very plush, very fine and very large coach and considered how best to go about giving her husband exactly what he wanted.
The cravat would have to come off, breeches too, the coat was entirely unsettling. As much as she had hoped never to lose her maidenhood in a coach -doing such with a man while still wearing her coat offended her more than anything. His great coat could be used as a pillow of sorts -and luckily, she has insisted in changing into a travelling gown before leaving. The buttons and lace and petticoats and frippery her mother had insisted on for her wedding were no longer an obstacle. She had shucked them all for fear of discomfort. Mind you she still had a corset and stays -but she was hopefully Fitzwilliam would rise to the challenge in more ways than one and work out how to gain the access he needed.
"Fitzwilliam Darcy, while your log speech has shocked me with the depth of your feelings, I find myself at this juncture..." "yes well, I find myself...entirely..."