At this, she flushed, unconsciously biting the plump lower lip he hungered to kiss, and after another contemplative survey of the bulging member below his waist—which continued to stubbornly resist his monumental efforts to control—she averted her eyes.
Dear God in Heaven, her sweet innocence is as provocative as her womanly passions. How can any man be expected to withstand such a lethal combination?
Darcy felt his muscles tightening, and he involuntarily shifted his weight to take that one step forward which would end irrevocably in making her his. Emitting a growling groan of frustration, he tore his eyes away from the hypnotic allure of her body, following the direction of her gaze.
She was staring toward the meadow he had been racing across on the two previous occasions he happened upon her at this copse of trees. Ten or so feet away was the tall wooden fence he and Parsifal had jumped over, Elizabeth’s anger and worry over that maneuver a comical, touching recollection. She had climbed up the rungs of this fence on both of those unexpected encounters, but her reactions to his two invasions had been altogether dissimilar. At the second meeting shortly after their engagement, he saw her desire for him plainly revealed for the first time in the brazen way she had looked at his body—not the wisest remembrance to dwell upon right now!
Darcy could recall each of those incidents with sharp clarity, the first as distinct as the second because, as he later admitted, he had been crazy in love with Elizabeth Bennet almost from the second he laid eyes on her. Perhaps the intensity of his emotions, denied as they were for months, was partial blame why coming here stirred his lust to a ferocious level.
“What were you thinking when you encountered me here that day? Not a few weeks ago, but last year, after my stay at Netherfield when Jane was ill. You had such a strange expression.”
In a mesmerized monotone, he replied automatically, “I thought my dreams had returned to torment me.”
“What do you mean?”
I mean, I had dreamt of making love to you, a passionate, erotic vision of our naked bodies entwined and writhing, sweaty and flushed, experiencing a pleasure greater than anything comparable. I mean, I wanted you physically, with such powerful intensity that not leaping off my horse to make love to you right here on the soft earth was the harshest battle I had ever fought. I mean, I was madly, inexorably, and with all my soul in love with you, but had no clue how to deal with it.
“Nothing,” he said instead. “At least, nothing we should talk about now, trust me.”
They stared at each other in silence for quite some time.
“I know what you are thinking, my love, as I am thinking it too.” He spoke softly, seriously, and held her eyes. “What is one day? We love and want each other. We will be married tomorrow, so why not take advantage of our solitude in this special place to consummate our love?”
Pausing, he breathed deeply to still the pounding of his heart. “I want to make love to you, more than I can ever put into words, Elizabeth. I know you want me as intensely. And I shall be honest, at this point proper behavior, being a gentleman, rules, even holy vows be damned, I would consummate our relationship and make you mine.”
He slowly shook his head. “The only reason I will not allow it to happen is because we, both of us, deserve better. We have waited a long time to love each other, to become one. Our first time together will be in a comfortable bed in a warm room where solitude is assured, not on the dirt in an essentially public place. It will be special, a precious time of discovery, intimate and beautiful. It will be perfect, I promise you that.”
Again, silence fell as they gazed at each other from opposite sides of the small copse of willow trees.
Then finally, Darcy smiled and laughed lowly. “I meant every word, believe me. Nevertheless, I am, in the end, a fallible human who is passionately in love, so let us not tempt ourselves any further.”
He pushed away from the tree and extended his hand. After another two minutes, Elizabeth bravely disconnected from the solidity of her tree, which had lent its unbendable strength during her vulnerability. Taking his hand, they left the copse of willows and descended the hill toward the pathway.
Once back onto the trail, Darcy stopped and looked back at the cluster of trees. “I have a feeling neither of us has seen the last of Willow Bench.”
Then he smiled down at Elizabeth, who laughed and shook her head. “I have a feeling you are correct.”
13
Matrimony Finalization
November 28, 1816
In the course of a person’s life, there are certain days wherein the collection of hours and minutes indelibly carve into memory—colorful, graphic, defined images painted upon the mind as permanently as if on canvas. Time cannot erase these pivotal events, steeped as they are in profound, rapturous emotion.
Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet were blessed to have several such special days already residing within their hearts. Inhabiting the prime location was the pristine memory of the day they declared their love for one another, culminating with Elizabeth accepting William’s proposal of marriage.
Upon the dawn of November the twenty-eighth, Elizabeth and Darcy woke from peaceful slumber just as the sun peeked above the horizon. Separated by three miles of a misty moor yet shrouded in shadows, their dreamy musings were identical. Their blissful smiles spreading, they stretched in their individual beds, warm and comfortable, and thought, Tomorrow I will wake entwined with my love.
Today was the day Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet would be bound before God in Holy Matrimony.
Incontestably, it was the most important day of their lives, a day to greet with receptive hearts and lucid minds—a day to record and savor.
Netherfield Park ~ The Grooms
The two grooms chose to stay sequestered in their private suites until it was time to leave for the church. The decision not to join their guests for the light morning repast was mutual, although for differing reasons.
Charles Bingley was a bundle of nerves. He was not nervous about being married—not at all! The insufferable two months waiting to marry his angel Jane had tried his patience and tested his restraint exactly as it had Darcy’s. Weeks ago, he had given up counting the number of times he cursed himself a fool for agreeing to Mr. Bennet’s late-November date. That no longer mattered praise be to heaven.
What was important today, and what frayed his nerves, was the pomp and circumstance surrounding the wedding ceremony.
Charles had never handled himself well in social situations where he was the center of attention. In this, he was remarkably similar to Darcy, although the two men reacted to such stressful situations entirely different.
Darcy retreated, as it were, his face and body stiffening, lips clamping shut, hooded eyes hardening, and nose lifting into the air. He unintentionally assumed the pose of an aloof, arrogant, disdainful person, which he was not.
Charles, conversely, became jittery, his smile too big and rather dotty, and his laughter more of a titter. Stringing a sentence together that wasn’t an idiotic jumble grew nigh on impossible. It was extremely embarrassing. Despite the misinterpretations Darcy dealt with as a byproduct of his bashful awkwardness, Charles would have taken it any day over transforming into a buffoon.
Therefore, Charles Bingley, Netherfield groom number one, needed peace and calm. All in all, it was best for him to speak to no one until it was time to gaze into his adored Jane’s lovely blue eyes and recite his vows.
Netherfield groom number two, Fitzwilliam Darcy, was not the slightest bit nervous about anything. True, he was not fond of being stared at or put on display, but today did not fall into that category as far as he was concerned. The fact that there would be an audience as he stood with Elizabeth to exchange vows was a desirable, welcomed aspect of the day’s solemn ceremony.
Each of the carefully chosen attendees were witnesses to the sacred pledges the four of them would freely give and which would be sanctioned by the ordained servant of Christ
in the presence of God. In his opinion, this aspect of the matrimonial ritual would not have been written into the Book of Common Prayer if it were not a vital necessity.
Indeed, for Darcy, the sacramental obligations and spiritual importance overrode everything else. Because of this, for the first time since his engagement, and in truth for months before that, he had not awoken to visions of Elizabeth lying naked beside him. The physical desire for her simmered deep within his body, and there was no possibility of his passion for her disappearing entirely, even when standing in front of the altar.
However, for a few hours at least, his heart was fixed upon the hallowed vows he would soon recite. For this reason, the morning hours of solitude were essential for his inner peace and communion with God.
In other respects, today wasn’t vastly different than any other day. Due to the feast scheduled immediately after the wedding, he was content with coffee, toast, and a small plate of fruit. Not a typical breakfast by a long shot, but hardly an earth-shattering deviation. Bathing, shaving, dressing—all standard daily activities. Not even having a new suit to put on was all that unusual.
The only serious break from the norm came from his valet, Samuel Oliver.
All through the morning, as was standard with the strictly professional and tight-lipped manservant, the only words the duo exchanged pertained to the clothing and toilette procedures. Mr. Darcy could have been dressing for a shooting or fishing trip, and Mr. Oliver would have performed his assigned tasks precisely the same.
Then, as Darcy was adjusting the cravat pin gifted to him by his sister on his birthday, Samuel casually reached into a drawer and withdrew a small leather box.
Tone as stolid as always, he said, “Mr. Darcy, if I may be so bold as to touch upon a personal subject, I have a gift, a small token of my regard and appreciation. Primarily, of course, the gift is to honor this most auspicious day. I pray for your future happiness with Mrs. Darcy, as Miss Bennet soon shall be, and that your blessings will continue to multiply.” Setting the box on his master’s palm, the valet popped the lid open. “Familiar as I am with your wedding ensemble and the cravat pin from Miss Darcy, these cufflinks will match superbly. Congratulations, sir,” he finished, as matter-of-factly as he had begun.
Darcy was absolutely stunned. He could not recall Samuel ever speaking for that long about anything. Furthermore, aside from a handful of oblique references that always involved his garments or grooming, in the past two months he had said nothing about the upcoming wedding, and now a gift?
Surely such astounding developments are a promising sign.
Darcy did not say this, of course, or hint of his astonishment. Instead, he thanked his valet, gracious but stoic. Overt emotion was clearly not wanted, by either of them. After a single nod, Samuel secured the sapphire-and-diamond cufflinks in place and that was it.
Naturally, Samuel was correct. The cufflinks matching superbly.
Longbourn Manor ~ The Brides
The two brides at Longbourn could not have passed the morning hours in quiet solitude had they begged to do so.
Living amongst a family consisting of six females didn’t allow for much alone time or gradual waking to a peacefully silent house on any given day. As the brides had known from the start, the wedding day of two Bennet daughters—or, as Mrs. Bennet was fond of exclaiming, “The pinnacle event of the year!”—was destined to be early and chaotic.
It was Kitty who burst through the door when the sun was still partially below the horizon. “Wake up, sleepy-heads! Time for the fun to begin!” She yelled, flinging open the window curtains.
Plopping down between their blanket-draped forms, Kitty added a series of bounces for good measure. Lizzy and Jane burrowed deeper, gripping tight to the covers over their heads. Undeterred, Kitty attacked with well-aimed tickles.
“Mama says you must eat or you will faint at the altar. Can you imagine the horror? Everyone would be talking about the spectacle of a Bennet bride prostate on the floor, and not about the fancy celebration and rich husbands. Come, come! You can sleep later. Oh!” She giggled gaily, “I forgot. You won’t be getting much sleep for days and days and days! Oh la la!”
Bounding off the bed exuberantly, Kitty skipped out the door, laughter floating on the air.
“Is she gone?”
“I think so.”
“What do you think, Lizzy? Are you worried about losing sleep?”
“I slept very well last night and am pretty sure I can survive a few days without a full night’s slumber.”
Blanket yet over their heads, the sisters dissolved into silly giggles.
“Did you really sleep well?” Jane asked, stifling her snickers.
“Like a cat after slurping a big bowl of warmed milk. You?”
“I did, surprisingly.”
“Were you expecting wedding jitters? You?”
“Not jitters, no. Just normal anxiousness. I did dream that we were walking down the aisle, our gowns perfect, but we had both forgotten to put up our hair.”
“Oh, my!” Lizzy laughed, adding dramatically between gasping breaths, “Was our hair mussed and tangled, like mine is most of the time anyway?”
“No, believe it or not. Just hanging down, but, can you imagine?”
“The horror!” Lizzy exclaimed, imitating Kitty. “Did our grooms think we were the most ravishing creatures to walk the earth? Were they pleased?”
Jane blushed at Lizzy’s insinuating drawl but laughed as she replied saucily, “I am certain they were, but, sadly, the dream did not show that part.”
“Has Charles ever seen you with your hair down?”
Pausing for a moment of reflection, Jane shook her head. “I do not believe he has. It had not occurred to me, to be honest.”
“Well, he is in for a treat. You have fabulous hair,” Lizzy asserted confidently. Tossing the blankets aside, she sat up in bed and gazed at her bed-tousled, gorgeous sister. Smiling, she patted Jane on the cheek. “Indeed, he will be delightfully overwhelmed, sweet sister. Kitty is correct—you will be missing lots of sleep.”
Returning the smile, her cheeks still prettily pink, Jane tugged on Lizzy’s dangling braid. “I shan’t be the only one. And as you said, we can survive.”
Another laugh, a soft one, then Lizzy sighed. “Dear Jane, I shall miss you so!”
“I shall miss you too. Our lives will be different. Better, hopefully, and certainly not worse, but assuredly different. It will take some adjusting.”
“Christmas will be difficult. I can’t imagine it, to be honest. Pemberley is so beautiful, but I suspect it won’t feel like home. I wish we could be here instead.”
“You might be surprised how quickly Pemberley will become your home, Lizzy. But even if not, it would be foolish to journey back so soon. Mr. Darcy was wise to refuse.”
“I never asked him. Oh, you were right, Jane,” Lizzy admitted at Jane’s raised brows. “It was ridiculous for me to even think of it. There are a dozen sensible reasons to stay at Pemberley. But I know William. If I asked to come home for Christmas, he would agree. That is how wonderful he is, and it would have been selfish of me. Besides, Georgiana will be there, and possibly Lord and Lady Matlock. I don’t know what their winter plans are but assume they will reside in the country as most people do. They must live nearby. Or rather, Matlock Bath is near Pemberley. I have no clue where the Matlock estate is, to be honest, or even what it is named.”
Falling back onto the pillow, she stared up at the ceiling as she laughed. “I have much to learn! William did say he has friends in the region. He mentioned the Vernors and the Sitwells, whom I gathered were within a reasonable distance, and he spoke of another gentleman from university who lives in Staffordshire. Or was it Leicestershire?” She frowned, then gave up and shook her head. “Anyway, surely there will be some holiday entertainments to be had. Besides, even with people I do not know, I shall be luckier than you in one regard.” She turned her head and grinned.
Jane narr
owed her eyes, knowing that look. “How so?”
“You get to have Caroline Bingley!”
“Oh, you!” Jane pummeled her with the pillow. A brief spat of childish play ensued but was interrupted by Mrs. Bennet hollering for them to come eat.
With the help of two sisters, their mother, and every maid in the house, Jane and Lizzy were pampered, primped, powdered, and prettified without lifting a single finger. Betsy was assigned to their hair, the final coiffures elaborate but elegant. By nine thirty, they were declared the most perfect, resplendent brides ever to be wed in all of Hertfordshire. Obviously it was a prejudiced assertion, but Jane and Lizzy were also awed by the visions of magnificence reflected in the tall mirrors.
With so much fuss and fun, neither bride had a spare second for nerves to set in. Only when settled into the carriage, with their father sitting across, did they have a chance to breathe.
For the short drive to All Souls Trinity Church, the ancient house of worship constructed of grey-stone and located on the far side of Meryton, they relished the quiet. It was a welcomed twenty minutes of calm reflection to prepare their hearts for the momentous ceremony.
Mr. Bennet smiled softly, his tender, slightly sad eyes moving back and forth between his two eldest daughters. Lizzy tried to think of a jest to ease the tense emotions she knew they were each feeling. But the wrong word and the tears tenuously held in check would spill, so she said nothing. Then, as the carriage crested the rise and the church’s bell tower popped into view, Mr. Bennet broke the silence.
“It is said that tears are expected at weddings, although I believe it is supposed to be the brides who cry with joy. Good thing you have your handkerchiefs handy, but I brought several extras along in case. Just bear in mind that it is not an unending supply, so be careful not to drop the bouquets or accidentally untie a bow, or your mother will have used them up before you two need them.”