Page 77 of Penned By Mr Darcy
The wedding breakfast followed. The affair was more lavish than customary, held at Netherfield at Mrs. Bennet’s urging. Darcy suspected, with an inward sigh, that her true delight lay in parading the grandeur of her daughters’ marriages before every acquaintance within thirty miles. The profusion of flowers, the excess of dishes, the unnecessary musicians; yes, it verged on vulgarity. It went on well into the evening, turning into a party rather than the customary wedding breakfast. But he was newly married, and Elizabeth’s quiet glances of amusement kept him from sourness. What did it matter, when she was his wife?
At last, the endless clinking of glasses, the flutter of well-meaning relations, and Mrs. Bennet’s triumphant exclamations drew to their natural close. Guests bundled themselves against the cold and made their departures. Carriages rattled down the drive, voices faded, and Netherfield grew still again.
Only when the final carriage began to move away did Darcy truly breathe. He turned to find Elizabeth watching him, her eyes warm with mirth and tenderness both. For the first time that day, they were entirely alone.
“My wife,” he said in disbelief.
Her answering smile undid him. How blessed he was to look upon her; it was impossible not to see the happiness that radiated from her, her posture relaxed and tired as she leaned against him.
“Your wife,” she echoed in a whisper, her hand slipping into his. “Now, take me to bed.”
He inhaled sharply at her hushed request, her eyes sparkling as she smiled up at him. Her boldness inflamed him. They had had little opportunity to be alone over the brief course of their engagement, and the past months had been filled with longing looks and fleeting touches. She had been privy to his darkest desires, but he knew nothing of hers.
Now, every longing they shared would be fulfilled. He would do anything she asked of him, anything at all. He would ensure her pleasure, though many husbands did not care for such a trivial thing as that.
Bidding goodnight to the new Mr and Mrs Bingley – Miss Bingley and her sister had departed for London earlier that day after the wedding – Darcy and Elizabeth walked through a deserted Netherfield. A bedroom had been prepared next to his, and Elizabeth wished him farewell with a teasing smile as she slipped into her own chamber, where a maid would prepare her for her wedding night.
His own valet, Smith, waited in his room, a knowing smile on his face as he helped Darcy disrobe and change ready for bed.
“A marvellous day, sir,” Smith said. “A hearty congratulations to you and Mrs Darcy.”
“Thank you.”
“She will make a fine mistress; I do not doubt that she will be beloved by all at Pemberley.”
“I hope so.”
“There,” Smith said with a flourish. “You’re looking quite right, sir. I will bid you good evening.”
“Thank you.”
The man departed with a bow, and Darcy sagged down onto the bed. He did not know how long Elizabeth’s toilette would take, or if she would send word that she was ready for him. It was common for a man and wife to share a connecting door – indeed, their chambers at Pemberley would bear such a convenience, but it was missing here. It would be far more dignified to make his way to her in private, rather than parading about the corridor dressed in his night clothes as he was.
He crossed to his dressing table, withdrawing a small box he had placed there some days earlier. He had bestowed his bride with a beautiful necklace from the Darcy collection, as well as her wedding ring. This was a mere token of his appreciation, a new necklace bought just for her. A delicate gold chain with a single sapphire dangling from the end, this was not appropriate for public wear, but something for her to wear when she was not amongst society.
He wondered if, one day, she would wear only this – bare before him with only the jewellery he gave her to mark her as his.
His cock twitched eagerly at the thought, and he squeezed his eyes shut. This was not who he was, a man driven by lust and desire, and yet it was who he became when he thought of his wife. His wife – the sweetest two words he had ever thought. It would not do to frighten her, for she had no experience. What little experience he possessed would do no good, either.
They would learn together.
He rose from the bed, walking a step or two towards the door and turning back around, falling back down onto the bed as he twiddled with his fingers. He could not settle, for he knew she was mere feet away. He longed to join her, every second that passed feeling like an hour. He opened and closed the jewellerybox, listening to the rhythmic thud as he lifted and replaced the lid.
He inhaled, closing his eyes, willing himself to calm.
And then, on the wall that connected their rooms, there was a knock. Not one knock, but five in quick succession. He leapt to his feet, taking that as an indication that his bride was ready for him. He held the box tightly in his hand as he opened the door so quickly he almost wrenched it from its hinges. With a quick glance to ensure the corridor was empty, he knocked on Elizabeth’s door.
She answered immediately, standing in the doorway dressed in a pretty white nightgown. He inhaled sharply; she looked ethereal, like an angel. Her hair was tied back, much to his disappointment, with a few wild tendrils escaping and tracing the elegant line of her neck.
“Good evening,” she smiled, her eyes trailing the length of his body. “Will you come inside, Mr Darcy?”
He nodded, stepping in and closing the door behind him. She had already moved away, walking towards the large bed that lay in the centre of the room. A fire burned in the grate, the flames high in such a way as to suggest it had been recently stoked, and he was grateful for the warmth. Elizabeth settled at the end of the bed, sitting down. He noticed that her feet did not quite reach the floor as she stared at him expectantly.
“I…” he began to speak, his tongue suddenly feeling too large for his mouth. “I got you a present.”
Her smile broadened.
“You did?” she asked, leaping up. “Oh, I am terribly greedy, for you already gave me that beautiful necklace. Presents always were a weakness, I am afraid.”
