This will probably be the final chapter for a while. I have an idea for a rather sexy epilogue, but it will have to wait because tomorrow begins November, and nanowrimo!
Enjoy!
Elizabeth returned home to the predictable, and yet somehow still surprising, chaos of wedding preparations at Longborne.
Jane and Bingley returned to Netherfield, generously, and perhaps naively, extending an open invitation to Darcy and his wider family for the wedding.
Darcy and Georgiana were the first to arrive, thankfully. Along with the Bingley's, they visited Longborne almost as soon as they'd changed out of their travelling clothes. Darcy pretended not to notice the undisguised amusement of his companions, at his impatience to see Elizabeth.
Greetings followed form and rather than allowing her guests to take advantage of the early spring weather with a walk, Mrs Bennet inundated them with wedding arrangements in remarkable detail.
In fact, the closest Elizabeth and Darcy got to a moment alone together before their nuptials, was at a dinner at Netherfield, the evening before all the other guests were expected. Jane, who seemed to have discovered a conniving bone in her body, since she'd married, sent Elizabeth to find Darcy before dinner. He was sequestered in the Library, finishing up a small stack of correspondence, hoping that he would then be free to ignore business for the following week or three.
He looked up at the sound of the door opening, and grinned.
Elizabeth closed the door and leaned back against it. "Dinner is soon." She stepped forward, "Now I've done my duty."
He stood and walked around the desk to meet her. "Off you go then."
"How goes your correspondence?"
He sighed, held out his hands and took hers, "Almost done. And then I am free, excepting unforeseeable circumstances, disasters and the like, to quite simply," he kissed her forehead, then her temple, "make love to you for a fortnight."
"Well, then, I better leave you to it."
"Not likely." He let go of her hands only to slip one arm around her waist and hold the other hand to tilt her face, brushing his lips against the underside of her jaw. "How about we elope?"
She laughed, put her arms around him and hugged him tight. "Two days, Fitzwilliam."
"Too long, Elizabeth."
They held one another silently for a minute before she spoke again, "When do we travel to Pemberley?"
"Two or three days after the wedding, I thought. But our plans need not be fixed."
"The wedding night will be in London?"
"I thought that would be best. The Bingley's will happily have us if you don't wish to travel."
"No, London isn't far, and the prospect of being alone is gaining appeal at an alarming rate. I think my mother might drive me mad. Perhaps you are right, and we should elope, for the sake of my sanity."
"It does seem a lot to risk."
She released her hold on him and looked up at his face. "You'd better finish your letters. Don't worry. I'll stay, keep you company."
"All right." He reluctantly let go of her, "If you stay in here long enough, you'll be compromised. We'll have to move the wedding forward."
"All the guests arrive tomorrow. I don't see why not." She sat down on the sofa and picked up a book from the table near her.
Restraint seemed so much more reasonable with only hours till their wedding, and, however unlikely it might seem, Darcy finished his letter and then accompanied Elizabeth to dinner with no more than a lingering kiss or three.
The wedding went to plan. It was uneventful, really, except for being one of the most significant events of their lives. Numerous moments of cringe and embarrassment were easily overlooked when Elizabeth could lift her eyes from her mother, or Sir William Lucas, or Mary Bennet, and spot Fitzwilliam, her husband! across the room.
They left early, their journey to London a convenient and excellent excuse. The carriage door shut and they smiled and waved goodbye until their guests were out of sight, then Fitzwilliam pulled the curtain, reducing the light in the cabin so much so that he had to find his bride with his hands, not that either minded.
He moved to sit beside her and sighed happily, his hands tracing her face as his eyes adjusted.
"Hello." She grinned.
He laughed and kissed her, indulgently running his hands down her body then pulling her to him.
She put her arms around his shoulders, savouring each languorous kiss. They tasted one another without urgency. It was, after all, not a very short trip to London. When, inevitably, their passions flared, they wordlessly agreed to loosen their grasping hands and part their hungry mouths, but never broke the connection of a relaxed embrace.
Eventually Elizabeth slept. Darcy tried to, but anticipation, and the joy of watching his bride dozing on his chest, were entirely too distracting.
A small supper was served in the Library of the town house.
Darcy led the way, opening the door for Elizabeth to precede him into the room.
She smiled at his choice of location, and immediately went to stand by a familiar shelf.
He followed and stood close behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Fascinating selection just here."
"I think it might have been something else, in actual fact, that led me to this particular spot." She touched the spine of one volume.
He ran his fingers along the laced hem of the shoulder of her gown then followed with his lips, pushing the fabric aside and over her shoulder. "My poorly worded second proposal. Who would have thought it might inspire such nostalgia."
She leaned back against him.
He kissed her neck, his fingers fumbling with the tiny buttons down the back of her dress.
"Perhaps we should do this elsewhere." Her voice faltered.
He moaned his agreement against her shoulder. "Very wise. But first, a little supper." He replaced the shoulder of her dress but left a couple of buttons undone.
They sat on opposite couches. It seemed more likely they might actually eat some part of the meal this way.
"I can scarcely believe we are here," Elizabeth confessed.
"Finally." He added with a wicked smile. "I am a selfish being, but I might just keep you entirely to myself for some time."
She took another mouthful but the food was not sitting well. She put down her fork trying to will away her nerves.
"Some wine?" Fitzwilliam stood and went to the sideboard.
"Thank you. I must admit, I'm a little nervous."
He hesitated, mid-pour, then finished his task and returned to her. "Why are you nervous?"
She smiled at an evident gap in his knowledge. "It is not any fault of yours, or mine. No matter how passionate our courtship, I am somehow, miraculously perhaps, still a maid."
His expression showed dawning understanding.
"I understand that some discomfort, at first, is unavoidable. That is all." She tried to reassure him. "I am sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. Now you are nervous."
"No, we must always be honest about these things. I did not realise, is all."
"It will pass, I am assured." She took a sip of her wine.
He poured himself a glass and returned to the couch.
She tried to eat some more food, washing it down with wine, but soon put her silverware aside, going to sit beside Fitzwilliam.
He put his glass down and turned to face her, taking her hands in his. "Is there anything we can do, to avoid... ah,"
She shook her head and then leaned in to kiss him, "Don't give it another thought," she whispered between kisses.
The tentative touch of her breasts against his chest effectively erased thought or caution from his consciousness. He pulled her across to straddle him, kissing her neck, and trailing down into her cleavage, while digging his fingers into the layers of fabric around her hips.
She arched, aching to be closer and groaned, feeling his arousal press against her. She ran her fingers through his hair and covered his face and neck in kisses, leaving his cravat in complete disarray.
He held her tight against him with one hand on her buttocks, the other ran down her leg, to the hem of her dress, then explored beneath. There were so many layers of fabric, no bare skin between her ankle and her hip. But he gripped her thigh and pulled her even tighter against him, briefly, before pulling himself back just far enough to put his hand in between their two bodies. He explored the inside of her thigh and finally found bare flesh.
She gasped at the touch, instinctively pulling away. She looked into his eyes and waited.
He brushed his fingertips through the hair, teasing, tentative, then pressed more firmly, finding his way.
She rocked against his hand, breathing erratically, moaning, arching to give him better access, pressing her chest forward.
With his other hand, he pushed down the shoulder of her dress, then one side of the bodice, cupping her breast and pressing his face against her soft flesh, peppering her with wet and breathy kisses. He would not be able to resist much longer. Her pleasure was intoxicating, but he could not deny her, no matter how close to the brink he was himself.
She cried out, then pressed her face into his hair, muffling her moans. She gripped his body and moved wildly against him, then stopped, still shuddering with waves of pleasure. "Oh," she breathed against his neck, again and again.
He pressed his fingers firmly against her, drawing out every last spasm, despite her nervous laughter. He held her where she was, though she tried to wriggle away, shy now that the fog was clearing and she realised what she had just done.
"Oh my." She relaxed against him, acknowledging that resistance was futile, he was determined to please her.
He kissed her open mouth and unwittingly moved against her, his own body aching for release. "We'd better retire, Elizabeth."
She nodded and stood, feeling a little unsteady on her feet. He stood beside her, too close to resist taking hold of her again. Without releasing the embrace, they moved toward the door, teasing and kissing and exploring one another relentlessly.
Darcy looked at the door and wanted very much to lift her against it, as he had in his uncle's library, and to take her right there. He was hardly fit to enter the public hallway of his home, even though his servants were discreet, and trustworthy, and had probably made themselves scarce.
He somehow summoned the self-control required to open the door and shepherd his bride up the stairs and down the hall to their chambers. But the moment the door shut behind him, he bid restraint goodnight, slamming his body against hers, taking hold of her to keep her from falling backward. He kissed her with hunger, pushing her back until she fell back onto the bed.
He unbuttoned his trousers then followed, leaning over her on the bed, kissing her mouth, then freeing her breasts and kissing them, all the while lifting her skirts. Only when his tip touched against her did he pause, remembering her nerves and the reason for them.
She looked up at him bravely, ran her hands down his sides and took hold of his hips, pulling him closer.
He groaned at the sensation, moving slowly, stopping when he met resistance. He watched her face, saw her wince, and pulled back a little before entering her again, pressing a little harder.
Again she winced. When he pulled back she spoke, "I think perhaps you'd best do this quickly. It might only hurt for a moment."
"Do you think?"
She nodded, sinking her fingers into the flesh of his buttocks and lifting her hips.
He pressed in slightly, then pulled back again before committing to it.
She cried out and instinctively pulled back, but it was done. He stopped, fully inside her, and met her eyes."Are you all right?"
She nodded, "Just give me a moment."
He kissed her face, using all his will power to not move his body.
Then she moved, rocking her hips against his.
He was undone, entirely overpowered by the sensations flooding his consciousness.
She continued to move against him, watching his expression of such pleasure, which entirely dwarfed her discomfort.
Then he grabbed at her hips, slamming himself far into her and crying out. After a moment he began to move ever-so-slightly, moaning out, his eyes closed, lips parted.
She could feel him spasm inside her, against her, and her body relaxed, her own pleasure returning.
They clung to one another till their breathing slowed, then Fitzwilliam lifted himself just enough to see her face again, "How do you feel?"
She smiled and caressed his face, "Strange, but good. Very good." She assured him.
"You are incredible." He rested his forehead against hers. "Will there be blood?"
"I think so."
He nodded the lifted himself and stood up. He went to the wash stand and returned with a cloth to find her sitting up, her skirts covering more of her than they had a moment ago. He held out the cloth. "Would you like a moment? I'll give you privacy if you desire it."
She shook her head, took the offered cloth. "Perhaps you might finish unbuttoning my dress."
He sat behind her on the bed and did as she bid, completing the task as she finished with the cloth.
"Thank you." She moved stood up and put the cloth away, then stepped out of her dress.
"No need to thank me, Elizabeth. I will quite happily undress you any time you like."
She laughed and returned to bed.