STOP! Some of the comments made about the status of Elizabeth and her parents got me to thinking, and after consulting a fellow JAFF author, I decided to make something of a change. So go back and read chapter 1 again before you read this one, as I updated it with the edits.

And thank you to everyone who has commented and/or clicked the follow button. You are such wonderful people.

Elizabeth was jostled awake unceremoniously, and blinked as she sat straight; she'd been quite perfectly fitted to her companion's side.

"Fitzwilliam?" she queried softly at the same time as she heard Wickham's voice cry "Sorry!"

"Try to avoid the ruts, will you?!" Darcy called back before he looked to Elizabeth with a smile. "I'm sorry he woke you."

"It's all right," she replied. The chaise was dark, the curtains pulled tight. "Any idea what time it is?"

"Close to midnight, I imagine," said Darcy. "I can't read my watch in this light, I'm afraid."

"You could open the curtains, you know," she replied.

"Don't think it would help much, there's very little moonlight," Fitzwilliam replied, though he still reached to do as she suggested; when he had, she saw that he was right, as she could still barely see an inch before her face. "I closed them for your comfort once you fell asleep."

"It was kind of you to be so considerate," said Elizabeth. "Have you any idea how close we are to Gretna?"

"We've some hours to go yet," he told her. "But before you woke, I instructed Wickham to find us an inn at which to stay the night."

Elizabeth frowned. "Won't stopping risk our getting caught by your father?"

She sensed his nod more than saw it. "It does, but we must risk it, my dear. The horses need rest and so do we."

With a sigh, Elizabeth snuggled into him once more and smiled as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Have I ever told you, Fitzwilliam, that I very much enjoy being held by you?" she asked.

Darcy chuckled. "I do not recall such a declaration."

"Well, I do. Your embrace is warm and comforting, and I can feel the strength underneath that shows you're not one of the idle rich," she explained.

"Just wait, my lovely young bride—I shall show you even more what strength there is in me when we are married."

Elizabeth froze—did he mean what she thought he did?

"I can feel your tension, Elizabeth," said Darcy then. "Have I offended or frightened you?"

She swallowed. "No, sir," she said. "I just…did not expect to hear such talk from you."

"Dearest, we are to be husband and wife in less than half a day. Surely you are aware of what goes on between a man and woman who are lawfully wed?"

Elizabeth sat straight again and narrowed her eyes at him in the almost-absent light. "I'm not entirely naïve, Fitzwilliam. I know what is required of me."

"Let us not speak of requirement, my love," Darcy countered. "I will never force you to share my bed, nor shall I force my way into yours. I do, however, hope that we shall be able to freely discuss lovemaking—in private, of course."

"What is there to talk about?"

"For starters, I must confess that I have some experience in such matters," he told her. "It is something of a tradition—one not publicly acknowledged, of course—for gentlemen to take their sons to certain establishments where they might learn the bedroom arts."

"Your father took you to a brothel?"

"He did."

"But why? Ladies are all but lawfully required to be as virginal as the day they are born when they are married, yet you men are allowed to go about wherever you please bedding women. That is entirely unfair!"

He captured her hands between his. "Elizabeth, it is the way of things," Fitzwilliam said. "I think it so in part to prove to society that women are of purer character if she waits for her husband."

"Then why cannot a husband wait for his wife?" she pressed.

He made a sound of frustration, then she heard him draw a breath and release it slowly. "Elizabeth, is it not reasonable that at least one of a pair has some knowledge of what to do when the time is upon them?"

"Perhaps, but… I just think it would be nice if a couple could figure it all out together—that a man respects his future wife enough to wait for her as he expects her to have waited for him. Besides, I've heard the maids at Pemberley talking, you know. Intercourse of that nature, they say, is all about the man's pleasure and the conceiving of children—men don't care if we're enjoying the bedding or not," Elizabeth said then.

Darcy gave her hands a gentle squeeze. "My love, allow me to assure you that I am not one of those men," he said. "The only reason I consented to take part in the experience was so that I would know how to bring pleasure to the woman I married. In pleasing you, I will be pleased."

"Do you mean it?"

She felt a hand now touching her cheek, and she turned into it. His thumb softly caressed her bottom lip as he replied with, "I do mean it, Elizabeth. And my dear, pray do not be afraid to tell me if anything I do does not please you, or makes you in any way uncomfortable. I truly want you to find joy in laying with me."

Elizabeth could feel heat suffusing her cheeks as she said, "I hope I will. I admit that, though I know some little of what may happen between us, I also have some small fear. The girls who have been with men say it hurts."

"I have been told that the first time can be uncomfortable for a lady, that is true," Darcy said. "But also that if she can relax her mind and body, the pain will quickly subside."

Elizabeth sighed, and for a third time leaned herself against his side. "Fitzwilliam?" she queried after some minutes' silence.

"Yes?"

"Have you given thought as to the arrangements when we reach this inn?"

"I have," Darcy replied. "You and I will share a room as though we are already married. The people we encounter must see you as my wife, else wise you would not be traveling alone with two men."

"That makes sense, I suppose," said Elizabeth.

"I'll not be asking you to anticipate our vows, if that is your concern. I can wait until we are properly wed."

"Thank you for that," she replied, then mulled over the fact that their ruse meant they had to share a bed. "But… Well, if we are to consider ourselves as already married…"

"Elizabeth, do not speak so," said Darcy even as his arm tightened about her shoulders. "Already I shall be sorely tempted. In fact, I may have to sleep in a chair or on the floor."

"Don't be ridiculous, I'll not have my husband sleeping on the ruddy floor," Elizabeth retorted. "I can behave if you can."

Darcy laughed at her words and held her closer. The two continued to talk of what they expected the first days of married life to hold for them—which they imagined to be repeated requests for forgiveness on their part and much scolding on the part of their parents—as the little carriage continued. Elizabeth had just begun to doze again when at last it came to a stop and Wickham was at the door, announcing he had found them an inn.

As he handed her out, Darcy quietly coached Elizabeth to feign great fatigue; she readily assured him that subterfuge on her part would not be necessary. She was tired, though she had been in the carriage almost the entirety of the afternoon and evening, save for those few times they had stopped to rest the horses. Leaning into him, with his arm about her shoulders and her countenance showing her desire only for a bed, Elizabeth was able to avoid having to speak at all. Darcy referred to her as his wife when he inquired as to whether two rooms were available, and in only a few minutes he was guiding her up the stairs of what appeared to be a reasonably respectable establishment.

The room they were shown to was lightly furnished, with a bed just large enough for two people to the right and two chairs before the small fireplace to the left; between the chairs was a low, small table. Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed as they waited for Wickham to bring up their trunk, and then they were alone with only a few candles to light the space.

Their being alone in a room seem to have sapped some of Darcy's confidence of earlier, for he swallowed heavily and looked pointedly away as he said in a halting tone, "I will go and speak with Wickham about departing early that you may dress for bed."

Elizabeth nodded. "Very well," she said in a similarly nervous voice. "But before you go…"

She stood as he turned to look at her at last, removing her pelisse as she did so. "I… I will need your help untying the strings of my dress."

Darcy returned her nod; Elizabeth turned her back to him and he came close. She could almost feel the tension radiating from him as his hands slowly worked the strings along her spine. Elizabeth held her arms crossed under her bosom and bit her bottom lip as she waited for him to finish.

"There. It is done. I shall return in but a moment."

The door was closing behind him as she turned around. Elizabeth released a relieved sigh, and hurried through her nighttime routine, thankful she'd worn her short stays today, which tied in the front—though the sudden image of Darcy untying them for her set her stomach to twisting in knots, and she felt herself growing warm as she removed the garment.

She was in bed and under the covers when Darcy returned some minutes later. In silence, he removed his coat and laid it over the back of one of the chairs, then divested himself of his jacket, waistcoat, and cravat before he sat to remove his shoes.

Elizabeth met his gaze as he looked toward the bed and asked her, "Are you certain you will be comfortable sharing the bed? I assure you, I'll not mind the floor."

"Fitzwilliam, do not be foolish," she replied. "We are already married, according to the register downstairs. In truth, we are husband and wife by heart if not yet by God. Knowing our intention to be lawfully wed, I daresay He will forgive us sharing the bed before the actual event takes place."

Darcy scoffed quietly. "My dear, I did not inquire as to God's comfort."

Propping herself up on her elbow, Elizabeth said, "I know your intent, and I assure you, I have no fear of sharing this bed with you."

In silence he nodded, though when he stood he said, "You may wish to close your eyes if you'd rather wait until we are married to watch me undress."

Elizabeth flashed a smile but dutifully closed her eyes as she settled herself down again. She listened to the sound of rustling fabric before there came the sound of footsteps, and then the counterpane was lifted at her back and the mattress dipped under Darcy's weight. Her nerves were now abuzz all over, and it was all she could do not to fidget as she felt him turn onto his side and settle himself against her back.

Despite her hidden nervousness, she smiled when he laid his arm over her and touched his lips to her shoulder.

"Good night, Mrs. Darcy."

"Good night, Mr. Darcy. Pleasant dreams, sir."

"And you, my dear."

-…-

Gretna Green

After a hasty breakfast at first light, Darcy was handing Elizabeth into the chaise and they were on their way again. They reached Scottish soil in only a few hours, at which time a place to wed was quickly sought.

The first place of business they found was a blacksmith's shop. The stout fellow inside declared he'd be more than happy to perform a handfasting, so long as they had coin enough and could find themselves a second witness, as two were required by Scottish law.

"Have you an apprentice who might fill the role?" Darcy asked. "Or a wife of your own, perhaps?"

"No, laddie, I've neither—though I'd certainly be glad to have one of those!" said the fellow with a hearty laugh. "But send your man there out in the street—I've no doubt he'll find ye someone willin' ta stand up for ye, if you offer 'im some o' yer coin."

"I'll be glad to pay for their services, and yours, sir," Darcy said as Wickham hurried out of the shop.

He was not long in returning, bringing with him a boy of about fifteen years. After Darcy asked the youth if he understood the part he was to play, the boy smiled and informed him he did, as he'd stood witness for couples before.

"Two of 'em, sir!" he declared proudly.

"Alrigh' then," said the blacksmith. "You two lads stand there, and the happy couple stands here and here."

After directing them where to stand, the blacksmith turned and took up his hammer. Turning back, he said, "Join hands with each other."

Darcy looked to Elizabeth and smiled as he held out his hand. She took it with a wide smile of her own and laced their fingers together.

"Ye's neither of ye any reason ye can't be married to each other, have ye?"

"No sir," said Darcy. His words were echoed by Elizabeth.

"And you, lad, genuinely desire to take this bonny lass fer a wife?"

"I do."

The smithy looked to Elizabeth. "Are ye sure ye want to marry this fella, lassie? Ye canna change yer mind when it's done."

Darcy watched Elizabeth flash a saucy grin. "I am sure, sir."

The blacksmith offered a toothy grin of his own. "Alrigh' then, as both of ye have declared ye want ta be married, and these here witnesses have heard ye say it, by the ancient laws o' Scotland, I say yer man and wife."

With that, he swung his arm back and brought the hammer down hard on the top of the anvil. The sound reverberated throughout the small stone building; Darcy mused that it was no doubt heard through the whole village, in the same manner as a church's bell. In any case, it was done: Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Gardiner were man and wife.

He turned to her then to find her smiling at him with tearful eyes; he bent and kissed her softly, at which Wickham hooted loudly and applauded. The boy he'd found to stand witness with him whistled and also clapped his hands; he and the smith offered their congratulations, and Darcy happily paid them for their time before leading his new wife back out into the sunshine.

"So, Mrs. Darcy, what shall we do first?" Darcy asked his new bride.

Elizabeth laughed. "I think, Mr. Darcy, the first thing we should do is celebrate our union with a hearty meal!"

"I wouldn't say no to that!" agreed Wickham. "Weren't much of a breakfast we had, you were in such a hurry to get here."

"I know, and I am sorry," said Darcy. "But you know that my parents or hers—or both—are only a matter of hours behind us. It was imperative that we arrive ahead of them so they could not stop the wedding."

"I know that, Darcy," his friend replied. "But I still agree with the new missus—time to eat!"

They settled on finding an inn and taking rooms, then having a good meal. Although he enjoyed the food and was ecstatic that he was now married to the girl he loved, having been reminded that it was only a matter of time before their certain pursuers were upon them had Darcy also feeling nervous. It certainly could not be long now before a public spectacle was made on the streets of Gretna Green, though it was surely not a sight the denizens of the village had not seen before. Angry fathers followed after their daughters to try and prevent such unions all the time, or so the stories said.

Only this time, it would be the angry father of the groom.

After the impromptu wedding breakfast, Darcy and Elizabeth went up to their room. He told her he wanted to talk about the inevitable confrontation to come—he wanted to prepare her for his father's anger, his mother's disappointment. Her own parents were also sure to be deeply hurt, and he felt duty-bound to try and prepare Elizabeth for the damage they had done to their families.

She walked over to the window as he was shutting the door. His new wife had grown quiet as they climbed the stairs. Contemplative was what he would call the expression he noted on her face when he moved to stand beside her.

"It won't be long now, will it?"

Darcy didn't need to ask her what she meant. "No. I daresay it will not."

He felt her slip her hand into his, twining their fingers together as they had done in the blacksmith's shop hardly an hour ago.

"Will you make love to me, Fitzwilliam?"

He knew his shock shone in his eyes when he looked down at her; Elizabeth's countenance, however, was solemn. "I don't want our first time together to be spoiled by our parents' anger. Let our loving be pure while there is still time."

Wordlessly, Darcy lifted his hands to her face and kissed her deeply. Elizabeth fisted her hands in his shirt, and in only a few steps they were tumbling onto the bed.

-…-

After consummating their marriage, Elizabeth fell into a blissful sleep. She had not expected quite the level of discomfort she experienced, but her husband's tender caresses and slow, sure movements helped ease the pain. As she drifted off, Elizabeth found herself hoping that the next time would bring about the marvelous, dizzying climax she had heard some of the other girls at Pemberley talking about. She did not think she'd felt it this time, but surely if she and Fitzwilliam were together with any frequency, she would eventually.

She absolutely did not expect the first face she saw on waking to be her mother's.

Elizabeth gasped and drew the blanket up to her chin, as her father was also in the room, sitting in the corner with a snifter of amber liquid in his hand.

"What…what are you doing here?" she managed. "Where is Fitzwilliam?"

"I'd advise you to forget about him, Elizabeth," her father snapped. "He's not here."

"Not here? Where is he? Where is my husband?" she demanded.

Edward Gardiner surged to his feet; Elizabeth gasped again and flinched.

Mrs. Gardiner turned to him and said, "Edward, please give us a moment."

"Keep it short, Marj. I want to be gone from this ruddy village within the hour," said Mr. Gardiner, before quitting the room in an angry huff.

The door slammed closed behind him. Elizabeth looked to her mother, whom she now noted had tears in her eyes. "Where is my husband?" she demanded again.

"The Darcy carriage departed more than an hour ago, Lizzy," Mrs. Gardiner replied. "Young Mr. Darcy accompanied his father home."

Elizabeth shook her head. "No. No! He wouldn't do that to me! He loves me, Mother—he loves me! Why else would he bring me all this way?"

"He is a boy of but one-and-twenty, Lizzy. His actions were those of an infatuated young man, not a gentleman of sense," her mother said. "Mr. Darcy was…quite forceful in convincing his son that he had made a terrible mistake. He assured him it could quietly be undone with the assistance of his uncle the earl, who'd accompanied him in his pursuit."

"It is not a mistake to marry someone you love!" Elizabeth cried, her eyes beginning to sting with the tears she was trying desperately to hold at bay. "He loves me, Mamma, I know he does!"

A tear slipped from each of her mother's eyes as she said, "Apparently not enough, Lizzy. Not enough to give up the chance of marrying a girl with a fortune of sixty thousand pounds."

Numbness began to spread over her; slowly at first, but as soon as she recognized the sensation, it moved quickly to immobilize her limbs. "No. No, he can't! He can't marry her, Mamma, he is married to me! He loves me! He promised me he would love me forever!"

Oh, my darling Elizabeth, he had whispered as he'd joined his body with hers. I cannot wait to love you every day of forever.

Mrs. Gardiner moved from her chair beside the bed to sit on its edge and gathered Elizabeth into her arms as she began to sob uncontrollably.

"I am so sorry, my dearest girl. I am so very sorry."