Page 49 of The Blackmail of Mr. Darcy
Georgiana and Mr. Bingley accompanied Darcy on every one of his calls to Longbourn for the next several days, and he was hard pressed to find moments to be alone with Elizabeth. But one morning, they found Elizabeth unchaperoned in Longbourn’s parlour. She explained that her mother and three younger sisters had all set off for Meryton, and that Jane was in the still room ready to show Georgiana the steps she used to create individual scents for each sister. “She asked you to attend her little lecture, too, Mr. Bingley, because you asked how the Netherfield still room should be used.”
Under his swollen bruises, Mr. Bingley looked very happy to be invited. Hill stepped up to Georgiana and Mr. Bingley to show the way.
Darcy was very happy as well. “Alone at last,” he murmured. “Should we take a walk or remain indoors?”
“Need you even ask?” Elizabeth smiled cheekily and moved to the foyer to put on her outerwear. Just a few moments later, the two were striding at the energetic pace they always walked.
After achieving a good distance from the house, Darcy said, “I do need to ask one question, Elizabeth, if you are ready to hear it.”
“I would love to hear any question you have,” she answered.
He turned, grasped both of her gloved hands in his, and asked, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I love you. It is remarkable to me how many different sorts of feelings are bundled together in that simple three-word sentiment. I long to touch you in the way a man touches his wife, and I am constantly amazed that your beauty seems to grow even though the starting point was that you were the most beautiful woman in the world. I delight in your sparkling personality and your boundless humour, and I admire your integrity and courage and character. I feel as fiercely protective of you as I do my sister, and I feel bereft at the idea of living without you by my side. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
Elizabeth looked almost as stunned as she had the day he had asked her for a courtship, and he was equally surprised by her reaction. He had specifically said that the courtship would, he hoped, result in marriage; why would she be astonished now?
He did not ask the question, but he felt very lucky that she answered anyway: “Less than a week ago, you said you had strong and steady feelings for me. Now…now you have dazzled me with so much praise and a declaration of love. It is all so fast!”
“Too fast? We can take things at whatever speed you wish, Elizabeth.”
“No, it is not too fast,” she whispered. “I find…that I long for you, too. My answer, of course, is yes.”
Having heard the wordlongfrom her lips was enough to send Darcy into heaven, and her positive answer to his question was even more incitement to enticement. Without considering propriety or consequences, without conscious thought of any kind, he pulled her close and kissed her.
Darcy was one of those few gentlemen who hated the idea of having a mistress or using the services of a courtesan. He knewvery clearly that he would hope that his future wife would not have had intimate relations with another, and he therefore felt that he should hold himself to the same standard, even though that went against almost every other person—male or female—that he knew.
For that very unusual reason, Darcy was almost entirely without experience. He had kissed two girls, when he was quite young, and only knew a chaste version of kissing. Other than that, he had read quite a good deal, hoping that what he read would translate to practice without too much mortification.
This kiss, only the third of his life, was in all ways different from the fumbling efforts of his youth. He found that Elizabeth’s firm lips under his tempted him to move his mouth, and she responded in kind. As he had read, his tongue gently prodding at the seam between her lips resulted in his ability to enter her mouth, to taste her, and he felt his desire increase explosively. Again, she responded in kind, and he moaned into her mouth.
His hands had been splayed at her waist and back, but hers were flat on his chest, and he felt as if the heat of her gloved hand on his well-clothed body somehow seared through all the layers between them, branding him hers. But how much more ecstatic he felt to have her arms stretch up so that her hands stroked through his curls and held him closer to her.
A part of him pleaded that he care at least a little for propriety, and he finally pulled back. She startled in his looser embrace; she was breathing heavily, raggedly, and he could hear his breath like an echo of hers.
“That was so wonder—” Elizabeth stopped speaking suddenly, and stepped back, breaking all contact with him. She stood straight, looked him directly in the eyes, and asked, “How many women have you lain with?”
“None.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I was told that if any man ever tells me that he has enjoyed no…intimate relations…with any woman other than myself, that man is lying.”
Darcy looked intently into her eyes. He saw a nervous sort of fear there, but no anger or accusation. He searched for a way to answer, and he could think of no smooth or lovely words. He settled for the bald truth.
“I hope never to be such a cynical man, myself. I have always had…a sense, a feeling, about what is right and what is wrong. My sense of virtue does not always agree with what authorities say, what my parents said, what religious scholars claim. And it ever seemed to me that, if a man wished for his future wife not to lie with another, he should not, himself, do so. It is only just, and fair. I will not ask you if you have been intimate with any man because the way our society is structured, such a question implies utter disrespect of a woman, and I have the utmost respect for you. On the other hand, I would want to be with a woman who feels free to ask me anything and who desires to speak truth as well as to hear truth.”
He ran one hand through his hair, not positive what her sparkling eyes expressed. He sighed and went on, “My father always taught me that fidelity in marriage is crucial. But even he urged me to go to courtesans, starting at age 18, saying that I needed to gain experience so that I could one day satisfy my wife. But I felt that that was incorrect, again picturing the mirror image: a society in which young women were urged to pay experts to teach them how to satisfy their husbands. I did not like that mental picture.
“So I decided to do what I always do, and I read a great deal. Some cultures do not shy away from written descriptions of intimate relations, do not classify such literature as wrong or bad. There are, of course, some books published even within our own society that detail such things. I tried to absorb the lessonsfrom the books, and I assume that you and I will be able to fumble our way into knowing exactly how to bring pleasure to one another.”
“Oh, Will!” Elizabeth’s eyes brimmed over with tears, but her tone and words were happy. “That seems to me to be exactly right. You seemed so competent with that kiss, it just made me worry.”
“Was that your first kiss?” he asked, stepping closer to her again to tenderly hold her body close to his.
“Yes, unless you count a near miss and a fumble I did not enjoy with John Lucas.”
“I had two kisses with girls my age when I was but fourteen years old. I would not say that they were near misses, but I would call them chaste kisses, the likes of which you could share with your mother or grandmother.”
“So your prowess at kissing comes from reading?” She chuckled and cuddled under his chin.
“I gathered some inspiration from reading. Things to try. I must say, the actual sensations of kissing you have blown all the descriptions out of the water.”
