Page 89 of Obligation and Redemption

Without a word Darcy reached his hands down and took hers within his own.

She looked away and allowed herself to be led to her room.

Elizabeth’s heart began to race in trepidation for what was to come.

She had considered the likelihood of this happening; with some success, she had even attempted to talk herself into acceptance, for in retrospect, she recalled that not all of her husband’s touches on their wedding night were unpleasant.

But that was before Langston had imposed himself upon her, and her mind would not relent.

Surely, he would be kind to her she told herself.

Her husband was a most attractive man, as any lady with eyes would attest; his masculinity and fine figure would cause any woman who had breath within her to capitulate happily to his demands.

But Elizabeth could hardly be compared to the average, deferential woman, and her experience thus far had left her in a state of agitation.

The previous encounter with her husband had caused her pain and embarrassment.

Mr. Darcy had come into her room, taken his pleasure and left her alone without a moment’s concern for her own wishes or gratification.

Would he be equally selfish again this night?

After arriving home, Darcy had walked Elizabeth to her chamber, making his intentions clear with his manner and visual examination before his departure.

When he entered his own room, he began pacing as he anticipated the night ahead.

He would give her time to undress. He poured himself a brandy and stood by the fire waiting until his valet appeared.

When Nelson showed up, he helped Darcy to remove his shoes, coat and waistcoat.

After enough time had passed, he walked through the sitting room and gently opened the door into Elizabeth’s chamber and glanced inside.

He saw the candlelight emanating from the dressing room and rightly supposed that Elizabeth was still with her lady’s maid.

Darcy quietly went to the door, standing in the darkness, and watched as the maid brushed through Elizabeth’s hair.

Her eyes were closed as she relished in the feeling.

He imagined running his hands through her long thick curls.

She was wearing nothing but her chemise now, and he could see her form through the thin, linen fabric.

He had not seen her in this way since that day at the cabin and then only fleetingly, for on their wedding night, in her modesty, she had worn a gown more suited to a winter’s night of sleep than lovemaking.

Darcy moved into the light and made his presence known.

Elizabeth’s eyes opened wide when she glanced at him, but then she averted her gaze.

He noticed that her breathing increased and suspected that she was as anxious as he; Darcy determined that he had waited long enough.

He had adorned her with jewels, entertained her at the theatre, introduced her to high society, and committed himself to saving her family.

Eventually she would learn to accept his advances, hopefully starting tonight.

He held out his hands and when she did not budge, he gently grasped both of hers and brought her to a standing position.

She was looking away, likely shy and nervous, which he found endearing, as he appreciated her innocence.

Then he led her into her chamber and towards the large canopied bed.

But before reaching their destination, he turned towards her and put his left arm around her waist. He just wanted to feel her body close to his own, so he pulled her up against him so that they were touching and he could feel her curves against his frame.

He bent his head down to kiss her, but she turned her head away, so that he kissed her cheek instead.

This only increased his longing, so he trailed his kisses in a hungry fashion down her neck while his right hand reached up to caress her bosom.

Darcy felt like a starved man at a buffet when his libido took control.

He now had no thought but to take possession of her, so easily lifting the petite woman before him, he carried her to the bed, placing her across the width of the counterpane.

He let himself fall on top of her, careful not to hurt her with his weight, but anxious to indulge in her.

His left arm was now free from holding her, so he reached down to lift up her chemise while his right continued its exploration of her breasts.

He tasted her neck, shoulder and then down to her fullness.

When her gown had been lifted to above her hips, Darcy began to unbutton and release himself from the confines of his breeches.

He was overwhelmed with a consuming longing to join with her, and so he gave free rein to his desires.

Elizabeth’s body was perfection. Every touch, taste and smell brought him ecstasy, and his only wish was to savour her.

All of his thoughts centred on the satisfaction their union brought to his profound yearning.

He wanted this time to last forever but needed the fulfilment and completion of a physical climax, so with mixed emotions he finally reached the apex of his desire.

Darcy yelled out and collapsed upon his wife, careful not to burden her with his heavy weight.

As his breathing began to slow to a normal pace, he realised that she was taking deep, heaving breaths, and he at first thought that maybe she, too, had found herself caught in the moment.

When he lifted himself so he could look at her, he saw that her breathing was not the result of passion but of anguish.

Tears were pouring down her cheek and temples.

Her eyes were clamped shut; the only thing holding back the sound of her sob, he discovered, was by her biting her bottom lip.

A small amount of bright blood was escaping her mouth where her teeth continued to clamp down.

“Elizabeth, are you hurt?” She did not respond, but instead turned her head in the opposite direction, as if to somehow hide her tears.

“Relax. You are hurting yourself; your lip is bleeding.” He was not ready for what would happen next.

She loosened the hold on her mouth and a wail of distress escaped.

She began crying in unfeigned turmoil. Darcy did not know what to do.

What have I done but enjoy my wife? Why is she in such distress?

She is no longer chaste; she shouldn’t hurt.

“Elizabeth, you must get control of yourself.” He rolled over to take his weight off of her in case he had hurt her by his large bearing.

Elizabeth quickly pulled down her chemise to her knees while covering her chest where Darcy had revealed her breasts.

He noticed that Elizabeth was trying to control her distress without success, and for a moment, he regretted coming to her.

However, he soon overcame this sentiment.

When Darcy led Elizabeth to her room, it had been like a déjà vu experience for her.

Every motion and touch seemed to mock that of Lord Langston.

She had closed her eyes to escape the moment, as children attempt to escape the suspected monster under their bed at night, but contrary to child’s play, she could not get away from the physical and emotional feelings that had begun to torment her.

For the past week, she had woken from nightmares related to Langston’s advances.

Elizabeth had come a long way from that frightening encounter to overcome her discomposure.

She was strong and tenacious and rarely let herself succumb to panic.

But as Langston’s cousin, Darcy and he resembled one another in ways that were not immediately apparent.

They had the same athletic build and stature.

Their eyes were the same penetrating blue that leered at her body as if able to devour it with a mere look.

Their breathing increased the same way; their weight overwhelmed her, making her feel vulnerable, the same way.

And with Elizabeth’s eyes closed, Darcy somehow became Langston in her mind.

He was the offensive, self-gratifying man of means who took what he wanted.

She had no value to him aside from being a toy to manipulate and possess.

The only difference between Darcy and Langston is that Elizabeth was legally and morally bound to submit to the advances of the former, but obligated to stop the latter.

Of course, her thoughts were not the rational thoughts of a wife being loved by her husband.

This was due in part to the reality that she was not actually loved by her husband.

He had taken her into his home and set her up as mistress.

Theirs was very similar to a business relationship, as most marriages of the privileged.

She could not overcome her treacherous thoughts that seemed designed to hold her in misery, but she was desperate to keep Darcy from seeing her anguish.

Elizabeth did not want him to see her weaknesses, nor did she want him to discover Langston’s betrayal at her expense.

At first she had feared that Darcy would not believe her, but now she apprehended that it was also her shame at being so used that kept her silent.

Without realising it, Elizabeth had bitten down on her lip to keep from crying out.

She had tried to detach herself from Darcy’s advances.

Although not as physically painful as her first encounter with him, still she felt discomfort that became more pronounced the longer he took.

She just wanted him to stop, and finally he yelled out, which she knew now to be a sign that he had at last succeeded in his goal of gratifying his physical desires.

Elizabeth hoped he would soon leave without noticing her distress, but that was not to be.

After asking her if she were hurt and trying to help her calm, the floodgates of her wretchedness opened and she began to cry releasing all of the emotions that she had so judiciously held in check.

Elizabeth knew that she had to stop; she tried with all of her might to control her breathing and distress but was failing in her efforts.

“Elizabeth, you must get control of yourself,” he said again. When she had finally calmed, he asked her what she was about. “Why the tears?”

“Please, just go. You are done here. Can you now leave me to myself?”

“No, I will not leave you in distress this time. I understood why you were so afflicted on our wedding night, but I confess that I am at a loss now. Have I somehow hurt you? I did not mean to; I can assure you.” Darcy was speaking kindly to her, but Elizabeth could not appreciate nor hear his concern as her mind kept going back to Langston’s false words of sentiment.

Her distress increased as he continued to stay. Elizabeth just wanted him gone. She felt embarrassment over her state of undress and foolish for her obvious grief. “The discomfort is over now, so please do not concern yourself. It has been a long night, and I want to be alone now.”

“You seemed to have an abundance of energy earlier. You cover yourself now, but you were readily flirting and enjoying the lure of other men the entire night at the ball,” said Darcy, now induced to pique by her emotional dismissal.

“You may recall, sir, that you were the one who picked such a revealing bodice, not I. If any man gave me notice because of my dress, it was your doing.”

“I saw that you enjoyed their attentions, Elizabeth, but scorned mine. I give you a grand home, extravagant jewels, new fashionable clothing; I take you to the theatre and opera. Damn it! I saved you and your family from ruin, and this is the response I am to receive? You spurn my advances, and by your tears you attempt to make me feel guilty for doing what is only natural and within my rights.” Darcy’s sense of justice began to overcome his wisdom.

“As for giving attentions, I noticed that yours were employed elsewhere as well. Lady Annette is indeed a beauty. Tell me, did you think of her while with me just now?” Saying those words hurt more than she had suspected they would, but she continued on, “I see how it is; you have confirmed my suspicions all along. I am nothing to you but an expensive harlot that you purchased at the expense of my pin allowance and your reputation. I suppose I am beholden to you and must now make myself available at your whim. I guess that is only right since I came at such a high price.”

“That is nonsense! You willingly and publicly entered into this marriage, knowing what it would entail. Do not blame me for expecting you to uphold your God-ordained part of the bargain. I am not asking anything from you that any other man would not ask of his wife.” Darcy tried to keep his calm.

“I have been very patient with you for over a month now, yet you accuse me of treating you like a common strumpet. You have offended me and my honour, and I will not have it.” He stood while Elizabeth reached for the coverlet at the end of the bed and said before leaving, “Next time you will welcome me as a wife should.”

Elizabeth had an equal mix of anger and despair.

She again wished that she could go back to that fateful day in the storm and leave the proud, disagreeable man to fend for himself in the woods.

Mr. Darcy could take his jewels, clothing, theatre tickets and homes; they held no lure for her.

He and his highborn, ignoble relations were her bane.

Yes, Elizabeth regretted yet again coming to his aid and began to pray for a way out of her marriage.