Longbourn to London (32 page)

Darcy opened his eyes, and was rewarded with the sight of her tender mouth on his chest. The sensation of his hand arousing her breast, combined with what he was seeing, was almost too much.
I have to slow this down.
He tried to regulate his breath and remembered the champagne in a cooling bucket that the servants had placed in the next room.

“Lizzy, we should get ourselves to a bedchamber,” he growled, releasing her breast.

She was disappointed but stopped her actions and straightened. “Fitzwilliam, I am eager to comfort you the way you comfort me.”

“Darling Lizzy…” His forehead rested on hers. “And I do desperately hope you shall, but we should be in a bed for that, at least the first time.”

“Which?” She smiled at her own boldness. She stood and stepped towards the door. “The nearest?”

Darcy chuckled at her eagerness. There she stood before him, hair down, face flushed and smiling, bosom only thinly veiled. He looked down the length of her irreparably wrinkled wedding gown to her shoeless feet in their pink stockings.
Those little adorable feet…
She extended a hand to him.
Once again, she is leading me.

Chapter 20

A Consummation Devoutly to Be Wished

“Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange.”
William Shakespeare
Much Ado about Nothing

“Have you ever tasted champagne, Elizabeth?” Darcy stood next to the round table in the mistress’s bedchamber.

“No, sir, though I have heard it is the most festive beverage and difficult to obtain from France at present.”

“My cousin…
our
cousin Richard returned with a case from his last campaign. Not everyone likes it, but I enjoy it, and I hope you will, too.” Darcy turned his attention to unwrapping the cork and removing the muselet in such a way as to appreciate the deep pop of release without the cork becoming a projectile. He filled the tall, thin glasses and handed one to his wife. “The custom, madam, is to touch the glasses together so they ring.” They delicately tapped their flutes, and he declared, “To Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam Darcy on the occasion of their wedding night!”

“To us!” She sipped her first taste of sparkling wine. The bubbles tickled her nose and tongue. Elizabeth found the sensation altogether to her liking, so much so that she laughed after swallowing. “Why, it is heavenly!” She took a larger swallow and involuntarily produced a burp. “Oh!”

Darcy immediately consumed half of his glass and belched deeply, then looked at her like an ill-bred, ten-year-old boy.

“Now we are both naughty children, and you think by your impressive display that you will absolve me of exhibiting crude manners?” She laughed. “You are a silly man, Fitzwilliam Darcy. That you could encourage a sensible woman such as I to indulge in similarly silly behaviour is quite remarkable.”

He was growing used to the label “silly man,” and realised its utterance usually presaged the further granting of his Lizzy’s considerable favours. He took the opportunity of kissing her rather abruptly before saying, “I am wondering, Mrs. Darcy, whether you would kindly sit as you finish your champagne. I wish to remove your stockings this instant.”

As long as they were jesting, she felt at ease, but each additional level of undress reawakened worries she wished to deny. She smiled pertly, or so she hoped, and followed as he led her to the settee, where he knelt in front of her.

Darcy had carried the champagne bottle and refilled her half-empty glass. “This should do for now. I would not want to be accused of drugging my bride to gain her compliance.”

She took another sip. “It would be a waste of medication, sir. I am a bit of a foregone conclusion, am I not?”

He chuckled. “Lizzy, my love, it is my profoundest wish that you are truly as sanguine about all of this as you appear to be.”

Elizabeth leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “You promised to tell me whenever we are doing something you have never done before. In return I promise to tell you if I become too overwrought to continue.” She sat back.

“Then I have been remiss. I must tell you, I have never completely undressed a woman before now.”

“Truly?” She was surprised.

“Yes, truly. Harlots always keep some undergarments on; at least that was their mode of business eight years ago. Am I not a patient man?” He cast her a sidelong glance.

“Yes, sir. You have amply proven your patience. I do hope you find me worth the bother.” She sipped her champagne and demurely looked away.

Darcy carefully, in as unhurried a manner as he could accomplish, lifted her skirts by gliding the layers up her legs. When the skirts reached her garters, he stopped, not wishing to alarm her unduly. He untied ribbons on both legs and slid the stockings down and off, one side at a time. As her stockings were removed, he kept his hungry eyes on the skin revealed, but twice stole glances at her face. She appeared spellbound.
I have seen such a look on rabbits before being struck by cobras
.
Please allow her to be as brave as she thinks she is.

Darcy looked at her small feet and held one in each hand. “You have charming feet. Have I told you?”

“No, sir, you have not. I am glad to hear it as my mother always told me they are excessively large and unfeminine.” She was smiling again.

“It has never been clearer to me than at this moment that your mother and I have quite the opposite view of beauty.” He leaned over and kissed the top of one foot and then the other, as if kissing her hands formally. He looked with a smile into her watchful eyes and was surprised to see hints of distress.

His face is between my feet; it could be up my legs next!
Elizabeth’s mind projected a brief vision of her disturbing dream onto Darcy’s quizzical and concerned countenance.

Thinking the memory of her mother’s derogatory comments produced her disquiet, he rose quickly and sat next to her. He held aloft a long, elegant, bare-to-the-lower-thigh male leg next to hers. “Hold up your foot, Lizzy!”

She was startled by the nearness of him and his now more obvious nakedness under his robe, but the unexpectedness of the fastidious Mr. Darcy exposing a leg to compare with hers was so comical that she complied with an anxious giggle that surprised her. Elizabeth prided herself on not being a giggling sort of person.

“I must say, sir, of all the apprehensions I had about this night, I certainly never imagined this—to be sitting next to you, both of us in various stages of undress, analysing our feet!”

Darcy tried to look serious. “Since we do find ourselves so, let us proceed. Yours are small and a pretty shade of pink, toes in a somewhat pointed array, nails of even colour and pale shine— yes, in every way delightful. Just what a lady’s foot should be.

“Now look at mine…quite hideous by comparison. Knuckles rather knobby, hairy on the top. Apelike, I should say. They look positively misshapen and ill used. Mrs. Darcy, feel free to jump in at any time to contradict me. You may tell me my large manly feet fill you with unquenchable desire…”

Elizabeth’s giggle became laughter. “They are interesting objects, to be sure, but I am sorry to inform you, in and of themselves, they do not quite inspire the feelings you hope for.”

“Lizzy,” his voice lowered, his eyes jesting, “You
do
know what is said about a man with large hands and large feet, do you not?”

A slight frown creased Elizabeth’s brow, and she tugged at the corner of her lower lip with her upper teeth.
Now to what is he referring?

Idiot, Darcy! Thoughtless! Why would a virgin find virtue in a well-hung man? Maybe she has not heard the old wives’ tale…
Darcy’s mind raced to redirect the conversation but not quickly enough.

The words of her Aunt Phillips blared in her ears. “
Big hands, big feet, big cock!”
Elizabeth shook her head, blushed more vividly than ever, and turned away. “Oh, yes,” she sighed, speaking with a quavering voice. “I do recall that.” She cleared her throat.

“Oh, Lizzy, what beasts men are… I am profoundly sorry. You have no idea how sorry. To be vulgar, now of all times…” He drew her head against him, her burning cheek resting on his bare chest directly over his heart. His action raised the exposure of his leg to the upper thigh, but they were both disposed to ignore it until the present uncomfortable moment passed. Darcy was only relieved that, for the time being, his erection had partially subsided.

“No, I am not bothered…” Her cheek against his slightly hairy, warm skin, over his thumping heart, was soothing. “Evidently there is a wider scope for amusement in marital relations than I had imagined.”

“Since we are on the topic, dearest and most forgiving Elizabeth, I shall simply say this: It is marginally acceptable for a woman to laugh
about
the male appendage in general terms, for it
is
an odd thing at times, but she must never laugh directly
at
it.”

Elizabeth opened her eyes, and viewed the magnificent length of his bare leg.
Now this does incite desire.
She looked up at him and smiled. “Ah… thank you, sir. I do comprehend the distinction.”

Elizabeth reached up to tousle his irresistible hair, although she yearned to touch his thigh instead. In the carriage, he indicated much would be allowed her, yet he had been reluctant to demonstrate or describe what might please him.

Her eyes closed, her lips parted, and Darcy understood her silent invitation. They kissed deeply before his fingers slid down her silky throat, over her pearls, and rested at the top of her lace bodice. While his tongue traced her lips, he found the thin ribbons holding it together and pulled.

Elizabeth sighed against his mouth as she felt her bosom exposed to his touch. She pulled away enough to murmur, “Fitzwilliam…mmm.” She widened the opening of his robe and could not resist the urge to rub her breasts against him. He was warm, and his arms opened to her. She felt moisture between her legs as a frisson of deep desire shuddered through her.

“Fitzwilliam?” She did not look up, watching instead the arresting sight of her bare breasts mingled with the sheen of the pearls moving on his skin.

Darcy was barely breathing. “What, Lizzy?”

“Can you explain…oh.” She sighed.
Do not be squeamish.
“What is this wetness that arises when you touch me?”

Darcy felt the room execute half a turn. He did not blame the champagne, but rather the woman.
The things she says…she knows so little of her own body. Her candour is unbearably sweet.
He took several breaths before replying. “It signifies passion. It signifies readiness for…”
Dare I say it?
“…For me, for joining your body with mine.”

“It is your leg, you know,” she confessed with a whisper in his ear. Somehow, such remarks were easier to express quietly.

“My leg what, my love?”

“It is quite…it is beautiful, handsome, like a statue come to life. It has undone me…”

To Darcy’s surprise, Elizabeth turned to straddle his bare thigh so the seat of her desire was in contact, moist and lush, with his skin. Their lips met in a frenzied kiss until Elizabeth’s arousal grew so great that her head fell back and she moaned, “Oh, Fitzwilliam, oh please!”

He knew what she wanted, and he lowered his head and lifted her to gain access to a breast to tease, nosing the pearls out of his way. She pressed against his leg, crying his name, begging in murmurs and holding his head against her. When the shattering pinnacle arrived, Darcy knew it. He released his mouth from her, laughing for sheer joy at the bliss he could bring her. He was thoroughly captivated.

Slowly her movements ceased. Finally, she drew a breath to speak. “You may laugh at me, you may torment me, you may undress me, you may say or do anything, Fitzwilliam, anything, only please,
please,
let me feel that again.” She was panting against him, and his erection was now lying against her bare thigh under her bunched skirts. She realised what it was, but turned her attention to his face.

Darcy had never seen such passion in any woman’s face, and certainly not in Elizabeth’s. That he had inspired such a look from those adored eyes exhilarated him, and his chest swelled to take in sufficient breath.

“Will it hurt you if I touch it?”

Darcy’s inhaled breath was interrupted as he blinked at her. “What?” He could not believe his ears.

She did not wait for his reply. Her hand moved under her skirts to touch his engorged member. As soon as she felt its heat and size, she pulled her hand away in timid recoil. “Oh. Oh, my. Oh, dear…” Having rubbed herself giddy against his thigh, she instinctively felt the potential for pleasure in using this new instrument for the same purpose. But that it was meant to go
inside
her was unfathomable. Yet, she felt too full of desire to be afraid.