Page 91 of Sketching Mr. Darcy

“I shall join you shortly, and I will bring something to drink. I am very thirsty,” he said while thinking that his thirst was not entirely for water, brandy, or wine. However, he would be content with some of those for the time being.

He was not tired—quite the contrary. He had longed for her for so long that his body was barely satiated by their lovemaking. His urge increased after tasting what he so much desired. He wanted nothing more than to love her again until he satisfied his hunger.

However, he struggled to temper his desire and to be patient for her sake—and for his. It was a less difficult task now that he knew for certain that his waiting would be rewarded soon, but it was not an easy one.

He dismissed his thoughts while he cleaned himself in haste then put on some new nightclothes, glancing at the bed, which was left in terrible disorder. He felt relieved that he could trust Stevens’ discretion. The last thing he wanted was gossip in the household.

He knocked and entered. She was in the bed, wearing a nightgown and a robe, her hair slightly arranged on her shoulders. She smiled as he entered with the wine and two glasses.

“I am dizzy enough even without wine,” she said.

“It will help you sleep better,” he said as he filled each glass.

He took her hand and helped her to the chair near the window.

Then he covered her with a blanket and sat near—just as he did on the first night of their marriage.

Both remembered and shared a smile as bright as a promise while enjoying their wine, which was less intoxicating than each other’s presence.

She sipped some more wine and hid her lips behind the glass, but she could not conceal the laughter in her eyes and the blush of her cheeks. He looked at her, inquiringly.

“May I ask of what you are thinking, Mrs Darcy?”

“Of nothing…that I could possibly tell you.”

He put his glass on the table and leant towards her. “In truth, you should know by now that there is nothing you can hide from me—in any aspect.”

She almost choked. “Surely, this is not a proper way of speaking, sir.”

“Nor are your thoughts more proper since they made your lips twist mischievously and your eyes sparkle in such a way.”

She attempted to cover her laugh with her hand, glancing around.

“It is such a fortunate coincidence that Lucky sleeps with Peter. A perfect arrangement.”

“True… but let us return to your thoughts, madam.”

“Oh, you are truly annoying at times, sir. I was just thinking…” She held his gaze for a moment, stood and took a few steps, then resumed her place.

“I was thinking that… I know it sounds horribly wanton, an d I might appear ungrateful, but I remembered the first night and…”

He took her hands and tried to search her eyes, lowered to the ground. He could not say whether she was amused or troubled. She finally met his gaze, which already had become worried, and said:

“I was thinking how it would have been if you had not kept your promise…if we shared the bed from the first night…”

He looked at her in disbelief then cupped her face and gently tasted her lips.

“I have thought of the same thing many times. I confess I knew from the first evening that I could convince you to allow me in your bed and that you would have enjoyed my company.”

He paused a moment, searching for the proper words his eyes holding hers.

“Probably your body and mine would have felt the same pleasure, but it certainly would have not been the same. We had not known each other well enough then, you did not trust me enough to open yourself to me, and I never would have dared to unleash my passion as I do now. Do you understand my meaning?”

“Of course, I do… And I feel you are right. Just as I feel you were right to delay the revelation of the story of ten years ago. It would have been difficult for me to see the man here now behind the shadow of my imagination. When you told me, the first thought that crossed my mind was how close I was to never discovering the truth—of never discovering you as you truly are. I felt as if I had fallen into a dark hole. I am silly after all, you must admit that…”

“I certainly must not. What I must do is to make use of the future to compensate for my past misjudgement as this is what almost made us never discover each other. But now you are here—we are here together—and enough of this talk for tonight. I was away from you for too long, my love,” he said, then he suddenly lifted her in his arms and put her in the bed.

He slowly but decidedly removed her robe, then embraced her tightly and pulled the blankets over them both.

She cuddled near his chest, sighing in contentment, while his fingers played in her hair.

She felt so much joy, so much happiness, so much fulfilment—so much love—that she could hardly breathe.

Elizabeth turned to tell him of her feelings, but her lips met his, and his hands moved slowly along her spine then rested on her hips. She gasped in surprise when he lay back and pulled her atop of him, trapped by his arms and his strong legs.

She was lying perfectly along his body—her face only an inch away from his and her breasts pressed to his chest. His hands continued to tantalise her shoulders, her back, her hips, her thighs.

Elizabeth did not know what to expect and did not dare anticipate.

His hands hastily removed her gown then opened his shirt, briefly caressing her breasts—already heavy from desire—and pulled her against him so tightly that it took her breath away.

What she did not dare guess, now was beyond doubt, and she brushed slightly over him, trying to voice her barely coherent thoughts while every movement made him moan and aroused painful delights inside her.

His eyes searched hers, but his hands never ceased caressing her.

“Do you wish me to stop?”

“No… Yes… I do not know… I do not think I can bear it again, so soon…”

He frowned. “Are you in pain?”

“In pain? No… It is not the pain…but the pleasure… I cannot bear it again so soon…”

He stared at her in surprise, then his eyes darkened while his caresses became more demanding. “You must allow me to prove you wrong, Mrs Darcy… ”

Her resistance broke—as little as it was—and she completely abandoned herself to him. How could she argue when she already knew he was correct most of the time?

It was almost dawn when silence finally filled Mrs Darcy’s chamber, and she fell asleep, exhausted in her happiness, wrapped in her husband’s love and tightly embraced by his strong arms.

The last thought that crossed her mind was that, in truth, he was right again!

***

Vigorous barking, a whispered voice, a breeze of fresh air, and a strong scent of summer awakened Elizabeth. She remained still, her eyes closed, enjoying the first moments of a new day, her mind, her body, and her heart still trapped in the recollections of the longest and most astonishing night.

Her hand brushed over the bedclothes then farther away, and she finally glanced around.

From her husband’s rooms, a chilling breeze entered below the closed door, and she imagined the room was being cleaned. The mere thought coloured her cheeks, and she covered her face with the pillow, trying to hide what she thought to be a shameless smile.

A moment later, she glanced towards the window and gasped. On the small table was an enormous bouquet of red roses—all red and bright.

She hastily put a robe on then ran to touch and smell them. She quickly counted them: one and twenty. With eager fingers, she searched between the flowers and found his note, which she unfolded anxiously. It said:

My dearest wife,

Thank you for allowing me to love you.

Your husband, F. Darcy.

Her fingers trembled, and she brought the note to her heart, her eyes tearful.

Then she rang for Molly, who arrived only minutes later and entered with Lucky squirming quickly past her leg. It was not difficult for Elizabeth to notice Molly’s glance towards the ravished bed and her insistence in avoiding her mistress’s eyes.

Elizabeth was completely mortified, imagining that both Stevens and Molly guessed what had happened. Yet, in her thoughts, there was little room for anything else except her husband, whose presence she already missed dearly.

Half an hour later, she was bathed and her hair beautifully arranged. Molly, who was sent to inquire about the master, informed her he was in the library.

While the maid searched for the proper dress, a daring thought surfaced in Elizabeth’s mind. She pulled out the new ball gown and asked a shocked Molly to help dress her.

The maid obeyed silently, expressing her astonishment at the beauty of the gown without daring to inquire what the mistress was doing with it. Elizabeth took pity on the girl and laughed.

“I just received it before we left for Longbourn. I will show it to the master and ask his opinion of it. Then you will need to help me change into a regular dress.”

“Ma’am, you are beautiful,” the maid exclaimed, and Elizabeth blushed with contentment. She wished to be beautiful for him.Then she took a piece of paper and wrote briefly.

My dearest husband,

Thank you for teaching me the meaning of love.

Your wife, E. Darcy

Elizabeth took a red rose, folded the paper over the stem and hurried to her husband, wondering how long it had been since she had seen him.

She slowly opened the door and found him at his desk, reading.

His eyes met hers, followed by surprise, astonishment, and tentative steps walking towards her. His soft gaze caressing her appearance and then the gentle kiss on her hands were her gratifying rewards.

“My beautiful wife,” he whispered, and his voice thrilled her.

She then handed him the paper and the rose, saying, “How else could I repay you, my husband, but by wearing something that you already gave me?”