A knock at the door wakened Elizabeth. It took a moment for her to realize the knock was not Sarah and that she was not home in her own bed.
She was cuddled up against Darcy's back, her arms wrapped around him. He breathed steadily, obviously still asleep. She quietly responded to the housemaid's knock having slipped out of bed and swaddled herself in a robe.
She tenderly pulled the sheets up around him, bidding the maid to light the fire quietly, while she went to her own room, where she asked for a bath.
"Oh Lizzie!" Jane exclaimed, rushing into her sister's room, where she was sitting, clean and dry, trying to pull her thoughts together. "I could not have thought I could be so happy. And to know that you are happy too — it is too much!"
"Did you… sleep well?" Elizabeth asked her sister.
"I feel that I should never need to sleep again. He is so wonderful, Lizzie. I could never have imagined that a man could care so for a woman." Emotions played across Jane's face, joy and wonder crossing and recrossing her countenance.
"Tell me everything," Elizabeth demanded gently. Jane hesitated and blushed slightly.
"My mother told me what to expect, Sunday night before the wedding," Jane admitted. "I confess that I had never suspected that the… well, the animal nature of the wedding night. No married woman of my acquaintance has ever… well, I suppose it is not a topic for polite conversation."
"What did my mother tell you to expect?" Lizzie asked eagerly.
"She said that I must allow my husband to lie upon me. That it would be painful, but that I must endure it to keep his love and if I wish for children. She said that I need not endure it more often than he insisted upon his rights. But she and father…"
"Yes, she and father have never known the love that you and Mr. Bingley do," Elizabeth said. "Though there are five of us."
Jane shook away the thought. "But he never insisted. I went to him because I wanted to, and then he was so gentle, so kind that he never hurt me. And to feel his arms about me, it was a pleasure I have never thought of."
"Like dancing, but much more," said Elizabeth, lost in thought.
"Yes, like dancing. But that I did not know the steps."
"A dance that many before have danced… But that I do not know that I care to dance the same way," Elizabeth said thoughtfully.
"Whatever do you mean, Lizzie?" Jane asked, perplexed.
"I'm not sure that I, myself, know. But let us make haste for breakfast."
Darcy awakened with a start as the housemaid closed the door behind her. The light from the flames danced across the polished furniture as he slowly took stock of himself.
He summoned his man and prepared to bathe.
When the sisters entered the breakfast parlor, the clock had not quite struck ten. Bingley was already seated and rose to greet his wife, enthusiasm in his eyes. Georgiana watched them approach, the steam of the eggs swirling softly in the stirred air. Darcy entered last, and his sister beamed at him, transferring that incandescent eye from his wife, who had been receiving its full radiance.
"Mrs. Darcy, good morning," she beamed. "It is so good to see you here."
Elizabeth stared at Georgiana, forcefully fixing her gaze on the sister so as to not transfer it to her husband. She wished to search his eyes, but in this company… no.
"I must go to Longbourn this morning," Elizabeth said, stirring her tea.
"May I come with you?" Georgiana asked, firmly intending to leave her companion behind.
Elizabeth would have rather gone alone, as she intended to find Mrs. Romney and speak with her frankly. But she could deny her new sister nothing and so graciously accepted.
She did not trust herself to look Darcy in the face until just before they left, and was shocked to see how fatigued and wan he looked, but then the carriage drew up and Georgiana urged her into it.
The carriage drew up to Longbourn and Elizabeth alighted, a visitor for the first time! She escorted Georgiana into the entryway and found Mrs. Romney seated with Lydia in the drawing room. Lydia had thrown herself, pouting, across the sofa, and Mrs. Romney rose to greet her friend with pleasure.
"Bon matin! I was just explaining to your sister how pleasant is the view from my home." The Frenchwoman turned to the pouting girl, "I showed your sister the view from the walk, and she can describe how lovely it is."
Elizabeth instantly read in her sister's face her complete lack of interest in anything other than redcoated officers, and quickly decided that persuading her sister to the trip could wait.
"It is a lovely view of the harbor, but I have something else I'd like to discuss with Mrs. Romney. Lydia, could you please go to my Aunt Gardiner?"
Lydia's face fell still further, but she saw that Elizabeth would brook no refusal and reluctantly slunk off.
The sounds of Mary's practicing on the pianoforte sounded steadily, and Elizabeth suggested joining her to Georgiana, who took the hint and headed off, leaving the two women alone.
Mrs. Romney drew Elizabeth onto the couch by her, smiling kindly. "Please, how can I help you, my dear Elizabeth?"
Now at the point of asking awkward questions, her courage failed and she hid her face in her hands.
Mrs. Romney patted her shoulder tenderly.
"I am sorry, my dear, that you should be so ashamed before me. Please, you can ask of me anything."
"I… don't know all I should about what happens between a man and a woman," Elizabeth admitted. "Jane and Bingley seem to have no troubles, but Darcy and I -" she broke off, overwhelmed by embarrassment.
Mrs. Romney sighed. "For some, mating is of the instinct. Coupling comes as naturally as eating or flirting. But for those, like you and your Mr. Darcy, who think and feel deeply, it is not so simple. Tell me, what happened when you went to him last night?"
Elizabeth's face colored fiercely and suddenly. "How did you know that I went to him?" she cried softly.
"I knew when you left with him that you would. Your love for him shines as clear as sunlight on Easter morning. Did he not show you how to please him?"
"No, he kissed me, and I could feel his passion, but he never asked anything of me but to lay beside him after I thought I had hurt him."
Mrs. Romney drew out the tale.
"So your Mr. Darcy has never lain with a woman before this?"
"I believe, never."
"This explains much. Men are like a clay bowl of dough rising in a warm oven. If they do not remove the dough when it is ready, it can overflow the bowl."
Elizabeth slowly confessed, "I… once saw my father's studmaster breeding a stallion with a mare. He led the stallion to the mare and… assisted the two joining themselves together. For John it was about the colt or filly that would be born, but for the mare and stallion, it seemed… more. The next year she bore a healthy colt… as women bear children…" she stopped, faltering.
Mrs. Romney made soft, encouraging sounds.
"That is what makes a child in a woman, is it not?" Elizabeth asked, "It comes from inside a man during the… act of passion, and makes a woman with child?"
"Yes, you understand, my dear. This is the animal way that is also the way for us. But while animals only couple to make animal babies, we make the love for pleasure as well."
"Is putting his… self… into a woman that much pleasure? And for her too or only for him?"
"It can be pleasure for both, but it is not the only act of coupling. Kisses are not just for lips, and fingers can kiss almost as well as lips. You will find that there are few places that do not feel wonderful when touched by the one you love."
Elizabeth's cheeks flamed and burned as she thought of how she had desired her husband.
Her voice was so soft when she spoke again that Mrs. Romney struggled to hear. "And he… desires to touch me as well? Not just to put that part of him inside that part of me?"
"I should say so, my dear, as he did not do so. Most new husbands assume this is the duty their wives owe to them, thinking nothing of her desires, which most think is only for the baby that she will bear."
"And she will bear a child every time they do this?"
"Oh, no. Some women never bear a child. Some women come pregnant each time, if she is not already with child. No one knows why. But your… how do you call it? Your moon's blood, will not come while you are with child. That is how you will know."
Elizabeth thought it over. The regular, if inconvenient, flow of blood that they called the curse… Mama had never had recourse to her cloths while carrying Lydia. The connection between the two gave her something solid to cling to.
"If she is with child, she can still… receive… her husband this way without harm to the baby or herself?"
"If she could not, I think there would be many fewer of us, my dear."
Elizabeth paced the room, new concepts clashing in her mind with old ones.
"Well, Darcy," Bingley said when they were alone in the breakfast room, Jane having gone back to arrange her things in her new room. "How do you like married life?"
Darcy's heartfelt groan startled him.
"Good God, man, what do you mean by that?" Bingley asked abruptly.
Darcy again moaned and put his head in his hands.
"Is she… is Mrs. Darcy yet unhappy with you?" Bingley asked tentatively.
"No," Darcy groaned. "She would be right to be unhappy. It would be just if she were outraged and hated me. But, Bingley, she loves me. I know not what to do."
"If you love each other, I'd think you'd know well enough what to do. Go to Pemberley and be happy with each other."
"It isn't so simple as that," Darcy reminded him. "I tore her away from her family, her youngest sister —" Darcy cut himself off, not sure if this was something he could share with his friend.
"Lydia? But you stopped her wedding with Wickham before it could be solemnized, did you not? I could not have thought you would have come back without having accomplished as much."
"We stopped them before Gretna Green. But not before they had been alone in that carriage for… long enough."
"Oh," Bingley choked. "Before they were wed… they anticipated the… conjugal state?" he asked in an agony of embarrassment.
Darcy confirmed this.
"And… you anticipate… her confinement…" He could not be more coherent.
"Mrs. Romney has offered to take her back to Guernsey," Darcy explained. "But what then? Is my nephew or niece to be raised, nameless and half-French, on an island that may be lost to Napoleon any year? What becomes of the mother in a town full of sailors? One might wed her for the dowry and abandon her. If she were to come upon the town, Mrs. Darcy would be devastated. As would Mrs. Bingley."
Bingley, unable to speak, stared at Darcy, cheeks flushing.
"What honest man will wed with her? She is not a virtuous girl, has no attractions but a pretty face and willing way. But her stubborn wantonness would drive off any but the heaviest-handed potential husband."
Bingley sat abruptly, overcome. Darcy continued without noting.
"From what I have seen of the girl, she is spoiled, selfish, without regard for the feelings of others, over-eager for attention and greedy for all pleasure she might have. Mrs. Romney is a strong-willed woman, but could even she keep this girl in line? I must have some plan for her, but I can think of none but to marry her to a man vicious enough to keep her in check, and of that neither of our wives would approve."
Bingley agreed but could not give voice to his agreement.
Lydia pouted under her Aunt Gardiner's frown. The unhappy woman had come to the end of her lectures some time ago, but her disapprobation still flowed steadily. After the excitement of her whirlwind, secretive courtship, the trip to Scotland, her delightful intimacy with her affianced husband and the duel, everything since had seemed dreadfully dull. She had not even been allowed to alight at any of the inns the carriage had made stop at to change horses, having to eat her meals while jolting on the road rather than enjoying the fellowship and excitement of a public room.
That Lizzie and Mrs. Romney seemed so sure that she was carrying a child — which seemed impossible, for she and Wickham had not shared a bed — was aggravating in the extreme.
She could barely accept that Wickham was gone, that he would not burst through the door to claim her at any moment. And if not he, then one of the officers must feel that she was being held like a prisoner.
Lydia glared silently, her resolution to do something to end this endless boredom gaining strength.