This chapter has some mature references if people wanted to avoid. I think it is quite tame compared to other stories on . Hopefully it's tastefully done!
Elizabeth had taken a walk to get some fresh air before nightfall, leaving Darcy propped in a wing-backed chair near the fire place, his leg resting upon a cushioned footstool. She had seen to it that the meal was to his satisfaction but had eaten very little herself. He looked about himself. Robertson had travelled ahead to their intended stopping point so he would have to do without his valet for tonight. He could not ask Elizabeth to help him surely? He would be able to do much of it one-handed but he did not know if he could tolerate the pain if he got stuck. It rankled him to be so dependent on another. A knock on the door told him of Elizabeth's return. To Darcy's mind, she had never looked prettier. Her healthy colour had returned and her eyes sparkled with the vigour brought on by exercise.
"I feel excessively better for some fresh air. How are you faring?" She found a chair and sat opposite.
"I have not had the luxury of a walk but I am not as sore as I was previously."
"Forgive me, my words were insensitive. Would you like me to open a window for some air?" Her face was at once alight with concern.
"I thank you, no. In truth, it is a little cold."
"You poor thing. It must be dreadful not being able to move about to warm yourself." Elizabeth started to busy herself around Darcy, calling for a maid to light their fire.
Waiting for the maid to return with some kindling, Elizabeth turned to Darcy. "There is a small dressing room attached to this one. I shall ask the girl to attend to me and then I shall see to you." Upon seeing Darcy protest, she laughed. "Do not be stubborn. Would you rather be undressed by a stranger or by your wife?" You are both to me, thought Darcy, but he did not say anything. Taking his uncertainty for embarrassment, Elizabeth smiled. "You will not offend my sensibilities. We are a little beyond that." Darcy swallowed. He nodded wordlessly and watched as she left the room to speak to the maid. A mouse of a girl came to wordlessly prepare the fire and Darcy stared within it, trying his best not to eavesdrop into whatever was happening in the small room next to theirs. At last, Elizabeth returned, looking lovely in her nightdress. Her hair was unplaited and fell about her shoulders in cascades of dark, glossy curls. With her dark doe-like eyes contrasting against her pale skin, she had every appearance of a forest nymph. It is though some sprite or pixie has ingratiated themselves into my life totally unbeknownst to me, thought Darcy. She had a dressing gown tied tightly to her and Darcy could see silken slippers on her slender feet. He swallowed again, his mouth suddenly very dry. He did not know what to expect or even how to behave. Gently, she helped him to his feet and guided him to the edge of the bed. She was so very close to him that he could see her blush extend all the way from her ivory cheeks down the curve of her neck. Leaning him forward, she pulled his coat from his shoulders. How many times has Robertson performed this simple task? Darcy wondered. Never before had such an innocent gesture made him feel so utterly exposed. Elizabeth tenderly untied his cravat. "Do not ask me to tie it up for you. You have suffered enough indignities without my efforts," she grinned. Next, she unbuttoned his waistcoat before removing it. With trembling fingers, she loosened his shirt and turned from him, "Perhaps you could try to remove your shirt yourself while I find your nightclothes." Darcy managed to pull his shirt past his injured arm and over his head. He sat on the bed's edge, awaiting Elizabeth's return. She came out of the dressing room holding his nightshirt in her hands. She stopped suddenly in front of him, her eyes fixed upon his exposed torso. "My poor love, I cannot believe how strong you have been to endure this." Moving closer to him, she traced her fingertips over the scars criss-crossing his chest. Darcy trembled under her touch. "You are cold," she murmured. Darcy felt anything but cold but he did not know what to reply. She eased the nightshirt down over his head and then bent down to help loosen his boots and trouser buttons. Propriety dictated that Darcy should look away but he could not. All he could do was to keep his dark eyes fixed upon his wife as she ran her hands along his body. He could not speak. It was too much, too intimate a gesture to know what to do. Elizabeth was not insensibly to the tension flowing between them and graced him a bashful smile. "Do you think you could finish the rest? Darcy nodded. He felt he could no longer trust his body around Elizabeth's presence and was almost grateful for the respite in her attentions.
She returned to the small dressing room, presumably to finish getting ready. Darcy somehow managed divest himself of his remaining clothes until he was only in his nightshirt, thankful it reached to his calves. He carefully swung his legs under the warm quilt and waited for her to return. She re-entered the room softly: he was pleased to see her hair was still loose and free. Darcy wondered what she would do if he ran his fingers through it. She caught him looking at her and it was not clear who blushed more. She cleared her throat. "I had a moment to reflect during my walk," she slipped under the covers. "I am sorry for the way I spoke to you before. You have suffered greatly and I do not wish to add to it." She inhaled, "I will not speak to you again of what you saw between Richard and I – not until I know more – but I do wish for us to become close again. It pains me to see you at such a loss." Darcy felt the pressure of her body on the mattress next to him. He turned his eyes towards her, this little woodland creature who seemed to know him so well. The dwindling light from the fire bathed her face, setting it aglow with a comforting warmth.
"Tell me of our wedding day. I wish to picture it." Darcy's voice came low and urgent. Never before could he recollect such an alluring vision as she was before him. "Help me to understand that I am a married man." Elizabeth nodded and smiled so beautifully up at him. Eyes twinkling, she looked to break the tension between them. Tipping up her chin saucily, she adopted a tone of mock solemnity:
"The day we were wed was of historical importance. Rain-clouds gathered overhead, and horrendous gales blew through the sultry streets of London. Academics across the land declared it an omen,"
She is teasing me again, thought Darcy, beginning to smile, "I thought I could trust you to be honest!"
"It is the truth!" She opened her eyes wide in feigned offence, all the while grinning at him. "On the carriage ride to the church, would you like to know what I heard upon the breeze – above the noise of the inevitable thunder you must understand?
Darcy grinned, "I hesitate to guess."
Elizabeth's smile deepened and she became more animated with tale. "Upon my life, it was the most sorrowful caterwauling echoing across the rooftops. Should you care to hear its cause?"
"I dread to ask." Darcy leant closer to her, completely enchanted. Elizabeth, echoing his movement, leant towards him.
"It was sound of every Mama, mourning the wedding day of Fitzwilliam Darcy, the most eligible bachelor in London!"
Darcy laughed aloud, "You, madam, are incorrigible!"
"How did you know those were the exact words the vicar said to me upon my arrival to the church!" Elizabeth was laughing with him.
"Stop it, you minx!" Darcy's ribs had begun to ache.
At his words, Elizabeth stopped instantly. Her face was so close to his. "I have missed you calling me that." Her eyes studied every part of his face. Holding his gaze, she continued softly, "In truth, our wedding day was the happiest day of my life. We were married from my house in Hertfordshire, surrounded by our closest family and friends. We departed for Pemberley not long afterwards. I was an insufferable creature – laughing and smiling far too much to be allowed. You were not much better. I do not think your acquaintance had seen you so animated." Darcy smiled at her words. She continued, "You were very handsomely turned-out. Now, I know that the more nervous you are, the more care you take with your appearance. Her beautiful lips curved into smile as she spoke.
"You know me well." Darcy laughed softly. "And what of you? I wish to picture you." Elizabeth broke their gaze. She looked past their bed into the smouldering embers of the fireplace. "I wore an exquisite dress. You had it made especially for me. I have never owned a finer one although I love you so much I would have married you wearing only rags. I wore your grandmother's Honiton lace for a veil and you gave me some of your mother's jewellery to wear." She looked back at him, her eyes misty. "It is not for me to say if I looked beautiful or not, but after we said our vows, you turned to me and whispered that you would never forget this moment your whole life long."
Darcy mirrored her melancholy, a feeling of sadness beginning to take hold. Elizabeth shook her head at him. "No more sorrow, it is agreed." Darcy nodded. She tipped her chin towards him again, "Is there anything else you wish to know of?" The firelight had all but disappeared and now the only thing keeping Darcy warm was her body pressed against his. Suddenly, he knew there was only one thing he wanted to know. "Tell me of our wedding night." Darcy held her gaze.
Elizabeth laughed nervously. "Fitzwilliam, you ask a deal of me to speak so frankly."
"Elizabeth, I have no recollection of any of it. None at all. And I find myself here, alone with you. You know me so well and I know so little of you. You must help me understand what you expect from me." Comprehension dawned on Elizabeth's face. "You wish to understand how it was between us?" Darcy nodded wordlessly.
Shutting her eyes, Elizabeth put her hands to her cheeks. "I shall try not to blush as I tell you all. After our wedding breakfast, we travelled to Darcy House in London before departing for Pemberley. We spent the day wondering around Regent's Park like hopeless romantics doing nothing but laugh and then we dined alone at the house. You could not stop kissing me and touching me. You did not care who was nearby.. It made me feel light-headed – I had never known what it was like to be so close to a man. After dinner, I told you that I would need some time to be ready and you should come to my room in half an hour. In truth, I only needed twenty but I remember using those ten minutes to think about all that was to come. When you arrived, I had never been more nervous and I think you were the same. You was so tender, so loving that all my fears disappeared in an instant. You told me how well you loved me and you kissed me so gently that I felt like liquid in your arms." Elizabeth exhaled deeply. "I had never seen a man's body before, not in the flesh – only statues at the galleries in London. I had always thought you handsome but I never knew you to be so truly beautiful as you were before me." She sighed, "I had known for a long time I loved you, but I fell in love with your body that night. By the light of the fire, I could see every curve of muscle ripple as you moved towards me. Every line of your body was strong and masculine." She reached out, eyes open, "There is a line from here..." she touched his neck, just below Darcy's ear, "...to here…." she traced her finger down his neck to the tip of his shoulder blade, "…. that I have always adored." Darcy shivered. Who knew such a feather-light touch could wield such power? Elizabeth smiled at him, " I always thought our temperaments complimented each other well but I learnt that, with our bodies, it was our contrasts that so mattered. Darcy raised his eyebrows, puzzled. Elizabeth closed her eyes again, "Where you were strong, I was yielding; where I was nervous, you were confident; and... where I was soft, you were hard." She groaned softly, "It is a good thing that it is dark. I am sure I shall burn from shame at my boldness."
"Do not stop." Darcy could barely breath. It was too much to hear such words about his own body from a woman's lips. This, surely, is why women do not talk openly to men of desire. No man could withstand it. He reached out and touched her arm, caressing her wrist until he took her hand into his uninjured one.
"You told me I had nothing to fear; that you loved only me and your first thought was to my happiness. You made me promise – just as you did before – to tell you if I needed anything from you. I should never be afraid to tell you of my heart. And then…." She paused. Darcy exhaled sharply, waiting for her words. "And then you were everywhere… your face was above me, your arms were around me… and …. and you ….. and you were within me." She stopped, overcome with embarrassment. Darcy looked at her steadily. "I can still remember your eyes. They were so fine and dark. You looked into mine just as you are now and I had never felt so loved and adored."
"And what happened next." Darcy's voice was so low, it was almost a whisper. Elizabeth's face was so close to his now, he could feel her soft breath upon his lips. "You closed your eyes." she whispered back. "And you lost yourself to me."
At that moment, Darcy had no other thought than to kiss her. She was too intoxicatingly beautiful to resist. She is your wife in the eyes of law and God. It does not matter that you do not remember your vows. She has just told you of her love for you. It is not a sin to desire your own wife. With the greatest reverence, he leant towards her face and stole the gentlest of kisses from her lips. Running his unhurt hand along her body, he pulled her towards him as she melted into him. His injured hand moved towards her waist and Elizabeth broke from their embrace instantly. "My love, I am sorry." Elizabeth was breathless, "We should stop. The doctor said you should rest," Darcy nodded, wincing with pain and embarrassment. He turned from her, suddenly ashamed. She fell in love with your body before the accident. Who would want you as you are now? Darcy's heart took a bitter turn.
"Fitzwilliam are you quite well?
"You are right, we should stop. I am not yet healed." Darcy let the silence between them deepen.
"Goodnight" whispered Elizabeth softly. Darcy awkwardly nodded and said no more. He felt her sigh and turn away.
He lay there for some time in the darkness. He did not remember the first time that Elizabeth rejected him all those years ago in Kent; and he therefore did not know how much more gentle she had been this time around. All he knew was that his wife no longer welcomed his touch. A powerful sense of rejection flowed through his body, adding itself to the new aching feeling of acute embarrassment. Every feeling twisted back on itself, leaving him confused and sore. He did not think he could bare another instant of it, let alone the next two weeks.