Darcy was not so naïve to think Elizabeth in love with him, but he was assured affection would bloom with time. The ardour he felt more than made up for the deficit of feeling, and he had not yet come to resent her for it. She had certainly been anticipating his proposal; there was no denying that.
It was fruitless to pretend that they had not shared the closest of intimacies the night before. Having traveled from Hertfordshire with such haste meant that both were exhausted when they at last reached the inn that would serve as the divide on their journey. He had assured her that consummation could wait until they were to Pemberley and he had watched in beleaguered astonishment as she had turned her face away from him, her shoulders shaking as she lost herself in relief that such a thing might be postponed. His heart had gone out to her, preventing him from visiting her room while at the inn. He felt, for the first time, that she might be fearful of him, for he had certainly overheard the rudimentary advice her mother had wished to impart while visiting at Longbourn before the wedding.
He had been seated with his soon to be father-in-law in the man's study in the pathetic occupation of being bested at chess when such instruction came to pass.
There came Mrs. Bennet's shrill voice from somewhere else in the house as she had cried, "And where is Lizzy?! I must tell her of her wifely duties! Jane, do go find her!"
Darcy had blanched and then flushed, wishing more than anything that he might fade into the floorboards, but Bennet had only chuckled, waving his hand dismissively as he gestured back to the board. The walls of Longbourn were thin, however, and he was soon privy to the sound of Elizabeth begging her mother to lower her voice, that gentlemen were present in the house and might hear her. The matron had clearly not cared, for she continued and Darcy was captive to things he imagined he would never hear, especially when seated across from his father-in-law in a house full of young, unmarried ladies.
Bennet had quit the room with a long-suffering sigh to seek an audience with his wife and perhaps pry her away from her mortified daughter, but it was not before Darcy had heard that which the lady had intended to say.
"From the looks of him, Lizzy, Mr. Darcy is most accustomed to getting what he wants. You would do very well to make yourself acquainted with the ceiling, for you shall be staring at it quite a bit." Darcy could not make out whatever Elizabeth's shocked reply had been. She had the delicacy to not raise her voice as her mother had done. He could only imagine the degree of shock glittering in her magnificent eyes, the exact shade of pink her face must be. He winced as the next piece of advice was given. Where in God's name was Mr. Bennet and why had he not taken control of his wife?! And perhaps of less importance- why was there still whiskey in the man's decanter on his desk? The Lord knew he would have drained it if in such an unenviable position!
"It is not something to be enjoyed, rather endured, your duty to your husband. You need only worry about getting with child and he shall likely choose to secure a mistress in Town! La, don't look so surprised, Lizzy! It is what men of Mr. Darcy's sort do."
Darcy had felt the outrage of such a declaration and lifted a hand to slide over his face in horror as he murmured, "At least, in that, she is wrong!" If Elizabeth had anything at all to say to what her mother had spoken, he did not hear it and soon he was able to make out Mr. Bennet's heavier tones as he rescued his favourite child and spared her from the more troubling truths of the marriage bed.
When the night came that he would visit her bedchamber, the joy that might have accompanied such an occasion had been somewhat dampened by her resistance to his attempts at passion. His kisses had met unyielding lips. His caresses had seemed to inspire only the barest of a tremble. There had been a moment or two that she had seemed to take some semblance of pleasure at the trace of his fingers over her bare skin, but she had refrained from any sort of reaction after, biting her lip or digging her nails into her palms when he drew nearer. He had felt her clenched hands and had brought one of them up to his lips to kiss her knuckles as she had breathlessly asked him to blow out the candles. He answered her that it might be more frightening in the dark. She had accepted resolutely and merely nodded, her dark eyes rising to meet his.
As uncomfortable as it was to him, it must have been tenfold for her, though he was spared the humiliation of her clamping her legs together as he had climbed over her. There had been a curiosity in her eyes as she regarded him, modesty coupled with courage. Her courage would always rise at every attempt to intimidate her, or so she had once said. He had approached her with a delicacy and restraint that he had not known himself capable of having. He was sure she would not break, but he had thought tenderness would better serve him.
Her first inclination, it seemed, had been to study the canopy above them as he had made his way within her-the way she had been instructed. His brow had furrowed and he had carefully stroked her cheek and bid her to look to him instead. Her cheeks had burned with color in the flickering candlelight, but she had done as he had asked. She had hardly winced the moment she was made his, but the sharp intake of breath had commanded his attention as he lowered his mouth to hers. She had shuddered and he had felt the warmth of her tears and tasted their saltiness as his lips passed over her face.
"There, my love, that is the very worst of it."
She had merely nodded and sniffed away the threat of more tears, closing her eyes as his lips next pressed to her brow.
Their rhythms were clumsy and did not match- she offering very little but bringing her arms about him once when it was evident she had no other idea of what to do with them. Her hands had tentatively rested on his back and he had felt her soft fingertips as they had moved to his hair. That part of him was not as objectionable as the other parts, and soon he felt her fingers twisting into his curls.
His release had been quick and violent and he had nearly collapsed against her, struggling for breath as she retracted her fingers from his hair and looked away. He rolled off of her and to the other side of the bed, finally rallying himself and flashing a breathless, if slightly shy, smile to her. "I thank you."
She appeared baffled by his thanks, but that bafflement was abandoned for confusion of a different sort as her gaze alighted on him. He followed her gaze and hastily yanked the sheets over his hips as her lips seemed to turn upwards.
"Sir?"
He looked up, halfway expecting to be asked why it had looked the opposite of what it had looked before. It seemed like a topic she would start with diverted enthusiasm, but he was wrong in his estimation.
Her tremulous tone and faint gasp were for something else entirely. Her cheeks reddened and she looked away, but he had already removed himself from her side to return with a wet cloth from the basin. In helping her rid herself of the unhappy evidence, he felt her gaze upon him. Having never bedded a virgin, he had altogether forgotten that there would be blood. Her hand shook and she collected the rag from him with a ragged, mortified whisper, "Pray, allow me… I was told this would happen, but I had not expected that it would be so…Forgive me. I fear it is all very messy."
"It is nothing. It does not distress me."
"I thank you for your kind attention, sir, but I must own that it does distress me." Her face reddened all the more as he moved to pull on his robe.
"I assure you that you are not the first it has happened to;nor will you be the last."
"While that is very helpful, sir, I pray you desist in speaking of it."
" Of course. Forgive me. I. . . Would you have me stay?"
"I could hardly send you from a room in your own home, sir. This entire house runs at your command."
He laughed softly and her eyes met his as he seized the rag from her grip and made his way once more to the basin, "Aye, you could certainly do so as there are rooms enough. These are your rooms and your bed.. But do you wish for me to stay?"
"Is it the common way? I had heard husbands depart immediately after such proceedings."
"Perhaps not, and I cannot vouch for other husbands."
"Then stay if it pleases you."
"Might I hope to hold you?"
"If it pleases you, sir."
"Does it please you?"
"I cannot say."
In the end, she had allowed him to drift his fingers through her hair, and he had done so, feeling foolishly in love but happily sated.
"It will be easier with time," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her curls, but she had already succumbed to sleep.
"Goodnight, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth."
When their breakfast dishes had been cleared, Darcy cleared his throat and murmured, "You are wool gathering."
Her eyes widened and she blushed in comprehension, "Oh!" An adorable line puckered between her brows and he longed to reach forward and smooth it, but she was all energy as she moved to stand, repairing to the window where it had ceased raining, "Forgive me. There is much to think of."
He had followed, wondering what beckoned her attention there. "You wish for a tour of the grounds, I know, and I am prepared to give it." Her look was one of surprise and he briefly wondered at it. "Call for your maid and wear your sturdiest boots."
"But it has just rained."
"Hence the boots. You and I are both sensible to a little bit of mud not being enough to stop you." His lips had curled into a smile.
"And will mud stop you, sir?" There came, at last, the enchanting sparkle he had longed to see again.
"We shall see. It shall certainly displease Cartwright."
"Cartwright, sir?"
"My valet."
