Sharon Lathan - Mr. & Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy: Two Shall Become One

She stopped his words with her fingers then leaned forward to place a gentle, chaste kiss upon his lips. “My darling William. I wish to please you as much as you wish to please me. Your words have eased my heart completely. I have no fears now, only the overwhelming need to show you how much I love you. Our wedding day cannot come soon enough for me!” 

Lizzy took one last look in the mirror and then entered the bedchamber with a happy smile and wildly beating heart. The room was lit only by the fire, two oil lamps, the filtered moonlight, and a wall sconce on either side of the bed. For a moment she thought the room empty but then she noticed her husband standing by a window with his back to her. She caught her breath at the sight before her. He was standing as she had so often seen him stand, with spine perfectly straight, feet firmly planted, and one arm bent with his hand resting on his waist. He was wearing a long maroon robe with a black sash, and every detail of his physique was evident through its folds. She found the view enchanting, and her heart began to race crazily.

“William,” she whispered.

He turned quickly at her voice and it was his turn to catch his breath. His carefully regulated control slipped instantaneously and his groin responded alarmingly. Several deep breaths were necessary to maintain his equilibrium. For a long moment they stood paralyzed, drinking in each other with their eyes. Darcy was the first to break the spell as he moved to meet her in the middle of the room. He longed to grab her and enfold her in his arms, yet at the same time, he wished to study her beauty, memorizing every line and curve of the vision before him.

He stopped a short distance from her and took her outstretched hands, halting her forward movement. She looked at him quizzically. “Elizabeth,” he said huskily, “may I simply adore you for a moment?”

She smiled and matched his boldness. “Only, sir, if I may do the same!”

Elizabeth had picked a nightgown of sheer satin, pale yellow with tiny bows down the bodice, narrow strap sleeves, a deeply scooped neckline, and pleated gathers just under her bosom. Her hair was loose down her back and shoulders in a chestnut veil of soft curls. Darcy had seen her hair down on a couple of occasions, but never in such an intimate setting, and the sight rendered him breathless and weak in the knees.

Her face was flushed, eyes bright and merry and completely full of love. The gown itself was thin but not totally transparent, offering tantalizing glimpses of her flawless form underneath. The satin flowed over her hips in gentle folds and over barely visible legs until just touching the tops of delicate feet, leaving tiny toes exposed. The entire vision was delectable and so moving to Darcy’s soul. Everything about her was perfection and beauty. He knew his aroused state was obvious to her searching eyes, but under the circumstances, there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Elizabeth, not completely unaware of the effect she was having on her husband, was nonetheless experiencing her own breathlessness as she carefully examined the presence before her hungry eyes. On only three occasions had she seen William in anything other than his full attire: while staying with Jane at Netherfield when she had spied him from her window after his ride, soaking wet from sweat and the water pump; once while he was riding; and many months later when he strode through the early morning mist on the day he proposed for the second time.

On all occasions her mind had been clouded with sleep or lack of it, daydreams, and overwrought emotions. The image of him as she had seen him on those three occasions had burned into her memory to return in her dreams, but it always seemed vague and hazy. This, however, was real. This time she was fully in charge of her senses and faculties, and she fully intended to take note of every detail possible.

He looked so young with his face relaxed; all the tension and careful regulation that usually strained his noble features were gone. His eyes blazed a vivid indigo in the half light of the room, shining and intense with bridled passion and deep love. His robe enclosed his broad shoulders and strong arms completely, yet somehow accented the shape underneath to great advantage. His neck was bare and she could see his pulse beating rapidly in the hollow of his throat. The robe was pulled tight across his muscular chest and belted securely at his lower abdomen. She could only see a triangle of his chest to roughly mid-sternum, dark hairs visible, and her fingers literally itched to touch his skin. His robe covered the rest of his body, hugging his slender waist, falling to his ankles, leaving his feet bare.

Elizabeth finished her inspection, letting out an involuntary sigh and sound of surprise. Darcy broke from his reverie and looked quickly to her face.

“Elizabeth, are you well?”

“Pardon?”

“You seem startled. Are you displeased in some way?” he asked nervously.

She blushed furiously and looked away, stammering, “Oh, no, I am fine. It is just that…” she trailed off lamely.

“It is just, what?”

She could not meet his eyes and her face was red. He did not know whether to be alarmed or to laugh at her sudden discomfiture. He lifted her chin gently until she reluctantly met his eyes. “We promised to be completely honest with each other, remember? Please tell me what you are thinking.”

“I… well, I was just noticing… that… well,” she swallowed and looked at him boldly, “you have nice feet!”

He could not speak for a moment, then burst out laughing. He gathered her into his arms and held her tightly. Still laughing, he said, “My darling Lizzy! You are so very delightful.” He pulled back slightly so he could see her face. Grinning broadly, he said, “Thank you, my love. I can safely assert that no one, with the possible exception of my dear mother, has ever commented on my feet!”

“You are making fun of me,” she accused, with a playful slap to his chest.

“Of course I am! How could I not? Only you, beloved, can make me laugh so.” He kissed her lips quickly, then proceeded to plant tiny kisses along her jaw until he reached her ear. He breathed deeply of her scent and whispered softly, nervously, “Do only my feet delight you, or did you manage to discover other equally pleasing attributes during your inspection?”

During his kisses she had felt the familiar flutters and tingles that she always experienced when he kissed her and had closed her eyes. Speaking, in fact coherent thought of any kind, seemed next to impossible. Even so, Lizzy being Lizzy, she answered, “Perfectly adequate, Mr. Darcy, I daresay. Unfortunately, so much remains covered that I cannot in truth render a full accounting. Perhaps we can remedy this oversight on your part posthaste so I can answer your query with total knowledge.”

Darcy had ceased his ministrations to her neck and was watching her as she spoke, a happy smile on his lips. Oh how he loved her! How he wanted her! But he had promised himself that he would control his desires and take this night slowly. He wanted to enjoy every moment with her, every word, every touch, every sound, and every smell. He was determined that she find pleasure and complete joy in being with him, in becoming his wife in every sense of the word.

“All in due time, Mrs. Darcy. First, I have a wedding present for you.” He took her by the hand and seated her on the sofa. He went to the armoire and pulled out a square box wrapped with blue paper and tied with a thick blue ribbon. He returned to her and placed it into her lap, kneeling before her. “For you, my wife, always to remember this day, the happiest day of my life.”

Elizabeth was slowly shaking her head and tears filled her eyes. “William, you should not have. You have given me so many wonderful gifts already! All I need to remember and mark this day is you… only you.”

Darcy smiled, “Thank you, dearest. You shall always have me. Now you shall also have this meager token as well. Open it.”

Elizabeth untied the bow and pulled the wrapping away. Inside the box, lying on a bed of dark blue velvet, was a vanity set—brush, comb, and mirror— made of mother-of-pearl with Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy engraved on each handle. The craftsmanship was exquisite. She was overwhelmed.

“William, I do not know what to say. They are beautiful! I have never owned anything equal. Thank you so very much!” She leaned over and kissed him soundly.

Darcy beamed at her obvious pleasure. “You would have enjoyed the spectacle, my dear. I have come to realize how lacking my education is in the area of feminine requirements. I have, in fact, studiously avoided the subject in the past. Recently, I have discovered myself extremely fascinated by all the mysteries related to the fairer sex, or more specifically related to you. I scoured my extensive library and found not a single book that could answer the questions I had. I surmised that the only sure avenue open to me was to enter the shops in London that cater to the needs of women.”

Elizabeth could picture it clearly and the vision did make her smile. He went on, “I was most relieved to find that I was not the only gentlemen present in the establishments, but I certainly was the most ignorant! Fortunately, the proprietors were remarkably sympathetic and willing to further my education. So, I learned numerous incidentals, which I am certain will aid me in being an understanding husband. As for this particular gift, considering how ardently I admire your beauty and especially your lovely hair, it seemed fitting.”

“William, you are too good to me. I truly do not deserve you.”

“Nonsense,” he replied gruffly, “I love you and enjoy giving you gifts.” As he spoke, he absentmindedly reached up under her gown and began running his hand along her right calf. Time stood still for both of them. Instantaneously their mutual desires were awakened and their thoughts became riveted to their need for each other.

Gazing into her eyes with a deep intensity, Darcy took the box off Elizabeth’s lap, laid it on the floor, and then rose onto his knees, bringing himself level with her. He slowly ran his hands along the tops of her thighs and around her bottom, pulling her to the edge of the sofa. Her knees parted and he moved closer to her body as his hands leisurely caressed their way up her back, eventually entwining in her hair as he brought her lips to his and kissed her passionately.

She had watched him as if mesmerized as he stroked her body and repositioned himself closer to her. She could not breathe! He was so incredibly handsome and desirable. Her need for him was overpowering. She wanted to see all of him, touch him intimately, and feel him on her and in her. She wanted to become his wife fully with an ache that was nearly painful in its intensity.

She ran her hands up his chest and then under his robe, placing her fingers gently on his shoulders. With slow deliberation she peeled the robe off his shoulders, exposing his upper body as she lovingly ran her palms down his back. He let go of her long enough to remove his sleeves, baring his arms to her tender caress, and then encircled her again, never once leaving her sweet lips.

It was euphoric! The feelings, the taste, their senses overwhelmed. Elizabeth boldly reached down and untied his sash, feeling the robe fall to the ground. Darcy moaned and in one swift, graceful motion rose from his kneeling position, gathering Elizabeth into powerful arms and carrying her to their bed.

Darcy stretched next to his wife’s lovely body, careful to keep his hips away from her flesh for the time being. He experienced a momentary stab of fear that he would not be able to keep his self-promise to proceed slowly, bringing Lizzy to pleasure first. His need for her was all consuming and powerful. He may never have been with a woman himself, but he knew that obtaining his own release was an easy task. The finer art of bringing her enjoyment was another matter. That was where his inexperience, coupled with a raging hunger for personal fulfillment and a need to make her his own, could lead to failure. Such was his love for her and his prideful wish to succeed as a giving lover, that he clutched onto his fear and used it to restore his faculties and level his ardor.

Elizabeth’s hands were around his neck, fingers massaging his scalp through his thick hair. She was watching him, eyes full of love and trust and desire with only a hint of nervousness. She seemed quite unafraid; however, Darcy knew this could change if he moved too fast. He stroked her cheek and jaw line and neck, all areas he had touched before, successfully bringing her enjoyment. She quivered and sighed, closing her eyes.