February 24, 2014 – I hope you all had a good weekend. Ours was eventful. Thus, no lengthy author's note. It was too stressful a weekend to think much. Also, I managed to slice my right index finger just by the end of my finger nail and it's made typing painful. So while my muse would like to cooperate, my finger is protesting; another reason for a short note this time. Oh well!

Anyway, FYI I'm not one for writing explicit sexual encounters. Instead I'm of the 'fade to black' school of story telling, hence the rating. However, never let it be said that I don't know how to create sexual tension. So on to the wedding and wedding night – another of my firsts (or nearly so) in the fandom. Muhahaha!


Chapter Seven

Not ten weeks ago, Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley were entirely ignorant of the existence of the other. Now, three days before the start of a new year, a bride walked down the aisle of her parish church to stand with her groom.

Bingley and Jane were in their places as bridesmaid and groomsman. The eyes of the congregation, fixed upon the bridal pair, betrayed more, perhaps, than their owners intended – triumph, love, envy, approval, regret, hope.

" …I, Elizabeth, take thee, Fitzwilliam, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to … to love," Elizabeth nearly faltered as an odd feeling overcame her. She had no time to consider it, so continued, "cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge thee my troth."

When Darcy slipped the wedding ring on her finger, Elizabeth was amazed at the finality of it. Her fate was sealed; she felt bonded to Darcy in a strange, new, everlasting way. She looked from their joined hands to his face. She saw him blink in surprise, and wondered what it was he saw on her features that unsettled him. The service continued, and their attention was drawn back to the words of the minister. The blessing was announced. It was done. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy found themselves accepting congratulations from family and friends.

Darcy had little family present: only Lady Victoria, her eldest son Michael Arnold, his wife Helen, and her youngest son, Joseph. None of the other family had condescended to attend. Darcy was disappointed but not surprised that his cousin, Colonel Andrew Fitzwilliam, was absent. Since the death of Georgiana, they had not seen each other much. The Colonel had his duties, and the one person who had kept them close was now gone. Darcy was sure the Earl had made it abundantly clear that he would not approve of his second born's attendance at an event of which he so vehemently disapproved. If Andrew did not defy his father's wishes, neither would his siblings. Darcy had not bothered to extend invitations to his more distant relations, none of whom he had seen since his father's death five years prior.

Elizabeth's family contingent was considerably larger: her parents and sisters, the Gardiners and their children, the Philipses, plus a few close friends from the neighbourhood, but only a very few.

"Mrs. Darcy, we should remove to Longbourn," her husband said.

"It will be some time before I become accustomed to hearing myself called that. If I do not immediately respond, please do not automatically assume that I am ignoring you."

Darcy laughed. "Come, wife, our wedding breakfast awaits. You know we cannot remain long if we are to make London tonight, and I for one am famished."

Mrs. Bennet always kept an excellent table, and the breakfast was, by everyone's account, superb. Darcy was indeed intent on leaving early and had so informed Mr. Bennet.

As loath as he was to have his Lizzy leave, Mr. Bennet recognised good sense when he saw it – and that Elizabeth was no longer his.

Thus, all too soon for everyone except the bridegroom, the couple made their goodbyes. Darcy led his wife towards his aunt and cousins.

"Thank you so much for coming."

"Of course, Darcy. It was a lovely wedding and breakfast. Mrs. Darcy, I will be certain to give my compliments to your mother."

"We will call on you before we travel to Derbyshire," Darcy told them. He spoke with his cousins while Elizabeth had a brief word with her new aunt.

"When should we expect you at Pemberley, your ladyship?"

"I shall give you a few weeks to acquaint yourself with the house. Perhaps some time in February? We can arrange a date before you travel to Derbyshire."

"I confess I am eager for your advice on the Season."

"And your presentation at court. Fear not, we will have sufficient time to prepare you for that."

Darcy returned his attention to Elizabeth. "It is time to take leave of your family."

Elizabeth's farewells to Jane and her father were the most difficult. It was unimaginable that she would not be seeing them every day.

"Oh, Father, do not be sad."

The master of Longbourn's eyes had grown misty as he embraced his second-born. "You must allow an old man to be sentimental on the day of his daughter's wedding."

"Promise you will answer my letters?"

"I can safely say that I might."

Elizabeth laughed. "I suppose I must be content with that." Leaning close so that no one else could hear, she said, "When I am settled, I shall invite you to come to us. It may not be until after the Season, but I do hope to see you at Pemberley before the days of summer are completed."

"I understand, my child," he smiled, glancing quickly at his wife. "All in good time."

With one last, quick hug, Elizabeth released her father and went to Jane. Enfolded in each other's arms, neither wanted to be the one to let loose. Finally, Elizabeth realised they could not maintain their positions any longer and moved slightly away, but only enough to look at Jane's face.

"I will see you again soon."

"I know, Lizzy. But I feel so …"

"Yes, I understand. I will miss you, too."

"You will write?"

"On that you may depend! I shall rely on you to keep me abreast of all the news. Of a certain anticipated event, I demand an express at the earliest possible moment," Elizabeth said with a smug look on her face, after a glimpse at Mr. Bingley.

"If."

"When, Jane, when."

"Mr. Darcy has no idea what an incorrigible woman he has married."

"Do not be so quick to assume, Miss Bennet," came the reply in a decidedly masculine voice.

"Take good care of my sister, sir."

Darcy bowed to Jane, "You have my word." He turned to Elizabeth, "Are you ready?"

She nodded, afraid to speak lest the tears that threatened return.

Both were soon settled in the carriage. Elizabeth looked back, waving to her family and friends, as the horses slowly drew her away from her old life and into her new.


As soon as Longbourn was out of sight, Darcy moved to sit next to Elizabeth. He noticed that she was chilled, carefully covered them both with a rug, then pulled her close. "Are you warmer now?"

"Much, thank you." She snuggled against his shoulder.

Darcy kissed Elizabeth's hair. She was content to sit as she was, and Darcy seemed so inclined as well. After they had travelled a mile or two, she felt a little conversation would keep her from falling asleep. She asked him about the service.

"It was a little different from any other wedding I have attended."

"Yes, since this time, you were the one being married."

Elizabeth felt him smile. "That did make it a novel experience. Truthfully, I do not remember much of what was said."

"I certainly hope you remember your vows!"

"Of course, how could I forget? I doubt you will allow my memory to be faulty in that regard."

"You may count on that, Fitzwilliam."

"And you, Mrs. Darcy, what do you recall?"

"As little as you, I confess."

But that was not entirely true. She did recall one thing with absolute clarity: her reaction to her vows. She had not yet had time to contemplate its meaning. Soon though, she would need to understand what had happened. For now, she needed to talk to her husband about the forthcoming evening. It would not be a comfortable conversation, but not as painful as she felt. Elizabeth had awakened that morning to proof that even the best plans go awry.

Darcy continued, "Then I shall be allowed to claim ignorance, and you will not be able to refute it." Elizabeth forced a laugh. "Elizabeth, have I said something to offend you?"

"Not at all. My mind was wandering."

"I see." Darcy paused. "Will you tell me?"

Elizabeth sighed. It had to be done. But she couldn't look him in the face.

"Fitzwilliam, I … I don't know how to tell you." She began to fidget. "I am concerned that you will be disappointed …"

Darcy stiffened and sat upright, forcing Elizabeth to do the same.

"What is it?"

"When I awoke this morning … Fitzwilliam, how knowledgeable are you in the ways of a woman?"

"I know that a woman …" Comprehension dawned. "Are you trying to tell me that your courses have begun?"

Elizabeth was relieved that he had so easily understood her meaning.

"This morning. It was not expected. It came very early for me. I assume the stress of the wedding … If you still wish …"

"I thought women usually planned their wedding dates so that this would not occur. I am only surprised, that is all."

He was being gallant, but she could see that he was disappointed. Truth be told, so was she. "No more surprised than I. A rather inauspicious start to our married life. Fitzwilliam, I …"

He gently placed a finger to her lips. "Elizabeth, hush. It was my desire that we marry so quickly. We did not expect that it would begin this way, but nature evidently had other ideas. We have a lifetime ahead of us. If this is the worst we ever face, we would count ourselves lucky. Come, wife, let us be philosophical and consider the bright side."

"There is a bright side?"

"We did marry very soon after we met. We both know that nothing improper occurred between us, but I suspect there will be speculation that we were forced into this marriage. A lack of an heir in less than nine months will stifle such gossip."

Elizabeth sighed. "I suppose that is something, although it is the only good I can see. I have been anticipating our wedding night since you proposed. And kissed me."

Darcy's expression became more serious. He tucked a stray curl behind Elizabeth's ear, then leaned in and kissed her.

"I cannot promise that an heir will not appear in nine months," he said softly, "however, I intend to make every effort to see that it comes about, and I certainly have no plans of spending my wedding night in my own bed. May I come to you tonight?"

Elizabeth was relieved he was so understanding. "I have no wish to be alone tonight, either. You may come to me, my husband."

She gave him a shy smile and tucked her head under his chin. Darcy sighed and pulled his wife more firmly to his chest. Safe within his embrace, she closed her eyes and thought of the pleasure his touch brought. With that delicious sensation in mind, Elizabeth Darcy fell asleep.


The light was almost gone when the carriage arrived at the Darcy townhouse. The servants had turned out in their finest to welcome their new mistress. After a few words of thanks, Darcy took Elizabeth to her chambers to refresh and change for dinner.

Elizabeth's new maid was waiting for her. The choice of an appropriate attendant had caused a small disagreement between Elizabeth and Darcy. She wanted one of the young servants from Longbourn as her lady's maid, more as a comfortable reminder of her old life than anything else, but Darcy was adamant that his wife have a French maid, as was fashionable. Each understood the other's reasoning, but eventually Elizabeth came to appreciate that a country servant inexperienced in the ways of society would find it difficult to fulfil the demands of the position; she conceded. Mrs. Thomas selected a suitable young woman, who understood that the post was provisional, pending Mrs. Darcy's approval.

Young Marie was nervous, Elizabeth could tell. No more nervous than I, she thought. Elizabeth spoke French well enough, but she decided to test the woman's English.

"Marie, have you held this type of position before?"

"Oui, Madame. I was the maid for Miss Henrietta Wyatt, daughter of Sir James Wyatt," she replied, with a decided accent.

"Mrs. Thomas told me that you are quite an expert seamstress."

"Oui, Madame. Miss Wyatt regularly wished me to alter her gowns."

Elizabeth studied the choice of gowns Marie had laid out for her. They were all appropriate for evening, which pleased Elizabeth. At least Marie knew that part of her duties.

"I also understand that you have no family in England."

"Non, Madame. I came to this country three years ago after my father died."

"Did you know much English before you came here?"

"Non, Madame. I have learned it since I arrived."

"Marie, you speak exclusively in English, yet you use the French forms of yes and no?"

"Habit, Madame. My former mistress liked me to say 'oui' and 'non.' If you prefer, I will try to remember not to do that."

"Marie, will you please say something to me in French."

"Votre voyage à Londres a-t-il été agréable?" (Was your journey to Town pleasant?)

Elizabeth did not initially respond, but creased her brow in concentration. "Please say something else."

"Je vous propose la robe bleue. La couleur vous va très bien." (I suggest the blue gown. The colour is well suited to you.)

"Thank you, please resume in English."

"Perhaps the green gown, Madame?"

"Le voyage en voiture s'est achevé sans incidents." (The ride in the carriage was unremarkable.)

Marie was surprised at her response.

"I did not realise that you understood me before, Madame. I thought you might just want to hear me say something in French."

"Yes, but only to determine if I could understand you. I have had few opportunities to use my French in conversation and was unsure of myself. Now that I know I can understand you, I ask that you please speak to me in English. However, if I address you in French, you are to answer me thus. There are times when I may wish to say something in front of another servant that I do not wish them to understand."

"Oui … Yes, Madame. I will remember."

"Good, then I will wear the blue gown, as you suggested. Oh, Marie, I am in need of certain … other items. They were sent ahead in my trunks which you have already unpacked."

The maid raised an eyebrow, but said nothing and retrieved the desired things. Marie helped her undress, bathe, and don her garments. Next the maid was asked to do her hair. Elizabeth was curious what she would do.

"Do you wish me to style your hair the way it was, or do you wish something else?"

"For tonight, the same."

Elizabeth was satisfied with the quick work the maid made of her hair. When she was ready, she sent Marie to inform her husband's man that the mistress was ready to go downstairs. Darcy came at once to escort her to dinner.

The cook had gone to special lengths for the meal. Elizabeth was very appreciative of the efforts and asked that her thanks be extended to the cook and all who had prepared the meal. She noticed that Darcy appeared to approve of her decision to praise the servants.

"You have a very efficient staff, Fitzwilliam. They should be commended."

"The fact that you chose to recognise their efforts does please me, and it will please them, as well. If you persist in this course, you will have a very loyal staff at your disposal."

"It is obvious that they are loyal to you. I, on the other hand, have yet to earn their respect. I believe kindness and civility can go a long way towards that goal."

"Hence, I am pleased. Now that the meal is over, shall we retire to the drawing room? Or would you prefer the music room, or perhaps the library?"

"The library, if you please. However, if you wish for me to play for you, I will oblige."

Darcy stood and offered his hand to assist Elizabeth.

"Not tonight." He pulled her up and tucked her arm into his. "Come, then."

The couple spent a companionable hour in the library. Darcy showed Elizabeth how the volumes were organised and pointed out some of his favourites. They discussed a few of the books they had both read and Elizabeth chose a few to take to her rooms.

It was still fairly early when Darcy suggested they retire for the evening.

"I admit that I am tired. It has been a long day, and we did spend several hours in the carriage. You dozed, but I did not," he confessed.

They walked up the stairs and stopped at Elizabeth's door.

"Come to me in half an hour," she said, and stepped over the threshold. Darcy watched her look out at him as she closed the door. He stood for a moment, shook his head, then walked to his own room.

Marie was waiting and had laid out a choice of nightgowns: Elizabeth's most luxurious silk one and a more serviceable, warmer, cotton one. As much as she longed to don the silk garment, Elizabeth thought it would be unfair to torment her very understanding husband. She would save that surprise for several nights later.

"This one tonight, Marie. I will wear the other later in the week."

"As you wish, Madame. May I assist you?"

The servant did her job efficiently and then took down Elizabeth's hair to brush it out.

"Shall I leave it loose or plait it?"

"Loose, please. Thank you, Marie. You may go now. I will ring when I am ready for you in the morning."

The maid curtsied, said "Goodnight, Mrs. Darcy," and left the room.

Elizabeth was alone at last, but not for long. A few minutes later, she heard a knock on the door that connected her chambers with her husband's.

"Come in, Fitzwilliam."

Darcy was dressed in what Elizabeth assumed was a nightshirt under his robe. He carried a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

"I thought we might make a small toast to the day of our marriage before going to sleep."

"Thank you, Fitzwilliam. That is a delightful idea."

He sat near her and poured each a glass.

"To the marriage of true minds. To you, Elizabeth, and to this day. Thank you for becoming my wife."

Elizabeth was profoundly moved. She looked at him, knowing not what to say, as an unexpected feeling of happiness and contentment bubbled up within her. "Thank you, Fitzwilliam."

They sat in companionable silence, staring into the flames, until at last Darcy spoke.

"Elizabeth, if you prefer that I return to my room, just ask and I will go."

"No, Fitzwilliam, I would like you to be with me. That is, if you still wish it."

Darcy gently took Elizabeth's hand and looked into her eyes. "Yes, I do."

They sat quietly holding hands for some time. Elizabeth felt herself becoming drowsy under the hypnotic spell of the dancing light of the fire and the effects of the drink. She shook her head and looked at her husband; his grip had relaxed and his chin had dropped along with his eyelids. She squeezed his hand and softly said his name.

"Fitzwilliam. Fitzwilliam. Should we not go to bed now?"

His eyes fluttered open, and he stretched his arms above his head.

"Forgive me for falling asleep, Elizabeth. It would be wise to sleep in the bed rather than these chairs. Not to mention much warmer in another few hours."

They walked to the bed. Darcy took off his robe. Elizabeth saw that he did, in fact, have on a nightshirt. And only a nightshirt. She looked at his bare legs and swallowed.

"Am I frightening you, my dear?"

"What?"

"Elizabeth, you are staring."

"Oh, I, uhm …" She hurriedly removed her robe and nearly dove under the covers.

"You are afraid of me." Elizabeth heard the amusement in his voice. He lay on the bed and pulled the covers over himself. They were together in the bed, but their bodies were not touching.

Elizabeth knew that this was decidedly not how her wedding night should have progressed. What would her mother think of her now? Her appreciation of the absurd exerted itself, and she had to stop herself from laughing out loud. She might have controlled herself had she not felt her husband start to shake. He was also trying not to laugh. Finally, neither could hold in their mirth, and they burst out laughing together.

"At least I know you find this as humorous as I do."

"Pathetic might be a more appropriate term," Elizabeth quipped.

Darcy rolled onto his side facing his bride. "Turn on your side facing away from me, and move back towards me. I would like to fall asleep holding you." Elizabeth obeyed, and he put his arm over her waist. "This is much better." Darcy kissed her hair. "Goodnight, Elizabeth."

"Goodnight, Fitzwilliam."


Elizabeth awoke a few hours later. It was the unfamiliar sensation of an arm around her that had roused her – well that, plus the soft snoring of her husband. She felt a great need to look at the man sharing her bed. Not wishing to lose the exquisite feel of his touch, she carefully turned towards him until she was lying on her side, looking him fully in the face.

By the dim light of the dying fire, she could just make out his features. He looked so different asleep, so much younger, so much more relaxed. She had not fully comprehended how very young Darcy had been when he inherited a vast estate to rule and a young sister to rear until he told her that he was but two-and-twenty at the time his father died, not much older than she was now. His demeanour often showed the weight of that burden.

Of all the people he could have chosen, it was she to whom he would reveal himself. She alone would see all sides of the man: the dutiful master of Pemberley, the loyal friend, the gentleman, the lonely man, the husband, and – eventually – the father. How had she not seen this so clearly before? As his wife, it was now her duty to see that his loneliness was a thing of the past. Had she not vowed that very thing to him before God and their families just that morning?

I, Elizabeth, take thee, Fitzwilliam, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge thee my troth."

After she had accepted Darcy's proposal, Elizabeth had spent many hours contemplating the vows she would make to him. For her, they were a sacred covenant between her and her mate. She had analysed the familiar phrases word by word, to determine if, in good conscience, she could give each promise to him. There was only one word that gave her pause, one word she wondered if she could repeat with sincerity: love. Both Jane and her father, in his own way, had asked if she loved Darcy. She had answered both of them in the negative. She did not love him as she understood the romantic meaning of the word.

But during her contemplations, Elizabeth considered that there were many forms of love. She loved her parents and sisters. She loved her uncles and aunts. She loved her cousins. She loved her – now former – home, Longbourn. She loved to laugh.

Darcy had become, she realised, a friend whom she loved as surely as she loved her other close friends.

And so she had been at peace. She could recite her vows with honour and integrity. That was why she had been so surprised to stumble over that very word "love" when the time came to vow it. She had convinced herself that it meant one thing; as she lay in bed facing her husband, she was astonished to find that she meant something else. The love she actually vowed to give was not what she had expected to give.

What love did she mean? She gasped in surprise. When had it happened? Had standing at the altar before God and witnesses unleashed what was already there?

"I love you, Fitzwilliam," she whispered almost without sound, almost as a test; and with perfect clarity, she understood that she meant it. Not as an altruistic proclamation of love for her fellow man; she loved him in the way a woman should love only her husband.

Elizabeth smiled. Affection, indeed! She wanted to stroke her husband's face with her hand, capture his lips with her own, tell him of her devotion and love.

Before she acted upon the impulse, she stopped. It was too soon – for her and for him. She needed to meditate on this change in her feeling before she was ready to tell Fitzwilliam. And would he welcome this from her? He had never once intimated that he loved her. Thus, despite Jane's plea to tell him, Elizabeth let him sleep. This was not the time for romantic declarations. He had not asked for her love; for now, that must be her guide.

Before she could continue her thoughts, Darcy stirred and tried to pull her closer to him. He must have sensed that they did not fit together as before, and his eyes flickered open.

"You are awake," he murmured, "roll over." Elizabeth did as she was bid. "Hmm, better. Go back … to … sleep …"

A few moments later she heard him start to lightly snore again. Suppressing the urge to giggle, Elizabeth covered his hand with hers. It felt right that way. She relished his touch and considered how good it was that she was now his. With that, she fell asleep.