Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (64 page)

He took both of her hands in his, and spoke seriously, “No more waiting.  No more separation . . .” 

“No, no more . . .” She whispered and gasped when she was suddenly scooped up and carried to the bed, and left staring up at him.

“Take off . . .take off your stockings, darling.”  He said hoarsely.  Elizabeth obeyed, removing first the garters, and then sliding the soft fabric down her calves.  “Ohhhhhh.”  He moaned, watching the tantalizing movement, and then climbed in beside her. 

Lying on his side, he caressed his hand over her shoulder and down the curve of her hip.  He felt the trail of gooseflesh left behind with his touch, and could almost hear the beat of her heart.  He wondered if she could hear his. “You asked me to just kiss you.”  Elizabeth nodded and reached to trace her hand over his face, feeling the rough stubble of his emerging beard under her fingertips, then up to touch and smooth the soft hair on his cheek.   Darcy paid great attention to her eyes.  “You are trembling, but is not from the chill of the room or from our damp skin.” 

“No.”  She looked down and he lifted her chin back up, kissing her.  “So much has happened in such a short time.  We are friends now.”  Darcy smiled, his eyes warming as his head tilted.  Elizabeth blushed as her hand moved down his shoulder. “We are much more than friends.”

“We are about to become lovers.” 

“I . . . I hardly expected this tonight, not after last night . . .” She tried to laugh, but her emotion caught in her throat, and she sought comfort in his beautiful darkened eyes. 

Immediately, he kissed her.  “I am well dearest, I am fine . . .”

“I know, and you are . . . so incredibly assured, unlike me.  Where has all of my confidence gone?  I was so much better when we were playing with the soap . . . I have been wanting this for so long, what is wrong with me?”  Darcy’s loving touch had never stopped as she spoke, and Elizabeth closed her eyes as his mouth wandered over her face to her throat.  “Oh, Will . . . “

“My dear shy, Lizzy.  You are not trembling from fear, love . . .”

“Then tell me why?”  She begged.

“Last night you fell in love with me.”  Darcy moved away, his mouth was barely above her lips, but he could see her dark, lovely eyes, and read the confusion within.  “Last night you discovered the same thing I did the night that you ran away to Gracechurch Street.  You felt the devastating fear of losing the one person in the world you love more than your life.” 

“I loved you before . . .”

Darcy smiled.  “I know, just as I loved you before that horrible fight, but until last night, you did not understand the depth of your love.  Now you do.  It is clear in your every look, your every touch, the way you watched over me last night and held me today.”

She sat up.  “When I confessed my love for you on our wedding night, it was . . . the greatest feeling I had ever expressed . . . I felt it, I felt for you more than I have ever felt for anyone!”

“As I did for you!”  Darcy sat up and reached for her hand.  “I am not discounting your feelings, dearest, not at all.  It is . . . Now.  How do you compare your feelings for me now to what they were that first night?”

Elizabeth’s hand went to her mouth as she looked over his face and felt her heart nearly burst with emotion.  “Oh, Will . . . I . . .” 

Smiling and with shining eyes, he nodded.  “You see now.”  He kissed her, his tongue gently embracing hers.  Elizabeth’s arms wrapped around his neck, and he pulled her tightly to his body.  Opening up to each other, Darcy at last exposed the depth of his passion for her as indescribable desire flowed over him.  They fell back onto the bed and caressed each other, his hand moving between her legs, and his fingers stroked, slipping inside to feel the warm silky wetness. Elizabeth gasped in his mouth at his touch as the dull ache they shared began to throb.  This feeling she knew, this touch of his was familiar and comforting, but now she wanted everything.  Her hand stroked over his erection and she pressed urgently against him.  The excitement of her abandoning all restraint swept through him as her hands moved over his body. 

Taking command, Darcy rolled completely onto her.  One hand tangled in her hair, tipping back her head, opening her mouth further so his tongue could explore deeply and taste the soft skin of her cheeks.  He thrilled with her sensuous, matching kisses.  Caressing her waist, his hand moved up to touch the side of her breast, impossibly flattened under the hardness of his body, and down to feel the curve of her hips.  Moving between her legs, he watched her eyes widen and heard her gasp when at last he felt the sweetness of entering his Elizabeth for the first time. “I love you dearest . . .” He assured her over and over as he slowly moved forward.  Her eyes closed as she relaxed and at last he allowed the enveloping feeling to spread over him. 

The emotion of the moment completely took him by surprise.  Sinking into the warm, slippery velvet of his wife, he felt crackles of electricity moving through his penis and up and down his spine.  He stopped his advance, waiting for her while he desperately sought control.  Every moment that he waited, he could feel her body opening further to him, forming around him, welcoming all of him as they were at last completely joined. 

For Elizabeth, the feeling of fullness was indescribable; she clutched his body, becoming lost in his caressing stroke as he moved in and out of her, slowly at first, but with increasing confidence, deeper, possessively, lovingly.  She felt the intense feeling of pressure, stretching her with the friction of his velvety soft skin sliding and rocking within her.  Her breath became ragged, just as ragged as his, and she moved with him, wrapping her legs around his waist, clinging to him, moving faster and faster.

Darcy groaned with the feeling.  Never, never had he felt this before.  This was more than pleasure, he was lost in her.  At last the incredible tension gave way.   His heart pounding, he clutched her to him.

“Never let me go . . .” 

Lifting his head, he saw the emotion he was feeling reflected in her eyes.  “Darling Elizabeth, I love you.” 

“I love you.”  She whispered, reaching up to wipe his face as he smiled and wiped the tears from hers. 

“Are you well?  Did it hurt?”

“You would never hurt me, Will.”  Darcy’s brow creased and she caressed his face.  “We are truly married now.” 

“It is about time.”  Laughing, he kissed her then wiggling his hips, he beamed when she laughed, too.  “Mmmmm, what was that vow we took?  Ah yes, with my body, I thee worship.”  Darcy kissed her again and nipped her lip with his teeth.

“I think that might be one of my favourite vows . . .”  She giggled and gasped when he thrust his hips forward.  “Will!”

“Too much?”  Regretfully, he moved away from the wonderful warm place he had discovered and at last allowed her to take a long and overly dramatic breath.  “Lizzy?”  He asked worriedly.

“You are a very big man.”  He shrugged and blushed.  Elizabeth’s fingers tangled in his hair.  “It was wonderful.”

Rubbing his nose to hers, he kissed her.  “What did it feel like?” 

“Oh . . .” She blushed and searching for words waved her hands uselessly.  “I . . .  What an impossible question!”  He laughed, stretching out and drawing her to his side, he pulled the quilt over them.  She rested her head on his chest, and he kissed her hair, stroking the tresses that flowed down her shoulders.  “What did you feel?’

“Joy.  Comfort, excitement, pleasure . . .” He laughed as she nodded her head.  “We need a dictionary.”

“No . . .” Elizabeth looked up to him.  “We need to do this more often so that we can speak coherently.”

Twisting a curl around his finger, he smiled.  “I pray that I will never speak coherently after loving you, Lizzy.”  He drew a long breath and laughed as he let it out and watched her blush again.  “But I have no objection at all to loving you often.”

“Most vigorously?”

“Most intimately.”  His hand moved down to caress her bottom.  “I am so happy that we did not have to wait for Pemberley.”

“Why?”  She kissed his chest.  “It is only a few days from now.”

“Well, besides the fact that I doubt I could sleep for the next two days in the coach and therefore resist your presence for so long,” Darcy smiled when she blushed anew, “I am happy that you and I will arrive truly as husband and wife.  Who knows, perhaps we are arriving as a family.”  Elizabeth’s eyes widened and he kissed her.  “Anything is possible now, dearest.”

Chapter 21

“S
ir.”  Carson, Judge Darcy’s valet and butler; spoke quietly and handed him a letter from Susan.  The judge was seated before the fire and staring into the flames.  “Perhaps you should consider staying in today, sir.  I am certain that Master Samuel will be by to visit before long.” 

“Samuel?”  He said numbly and after taking a long draw on his drink, drained the glass. 

Carson took up the bottle of whiskey before he could pour yet another.  “This is always a difficult time for you . . .” His voice trailed off as the inevitable happened. 

Judge Darcy jumped to his feet. “
Difficult
?  I buried my children today!”  He bellowed and spun unsteadily away.  “My sons, my dear daughters . . .”   He waved his hand at the array of miniatures hung above the mantelpiece.  “You were there.  You saw them.” The vision of the funeral was clear in the judge’s mind.  Susan had been too distraught to attend, so he had stood before the coffins with Samuel clutched in his arms. “I should be dead, not they!  Why am I not dead?”

“They are angels now, sir.”  Carson remembered the utter despair of his master and mistress, and remembered the judge’s fervent promise to Samuel,
I will take care of you, Son.  I will love you and take care of you.  You and your mother are all I have now.  Somehow I will make this right.

“My brother did not care.”  He seethed.  “He kept Fitzwilliam from attending; he kept his precious child away in case the air of the church that contained my babies would sicken him.”  He pounded his fist on the mantle.  “He turned Samuel away from the safety of the manor in case he brought the disease with him.”  Fury was in his eyes when he turned to Carson.  “I will never forgive him that!”  He turned back to the fireplace and wiped the tears from his face.

There was nothing to be said, there never was.  “I hope that Mrs. Darcy’s letter is comforting, sir.”  Bowing his head, he left the room.  It was the same every year around the anniversary of the children’s deaths.   Carson knew that George Darcy had tried to approach his brother, tried to offer his embrace and sympathy, but the judge had shaken him off.   Ever since that terrible time, Harding Darcy had been a different man. 

He loved Pemberley, but could not bear to be on the estate for very long.  For years he gladly accepted the position as circuit judge, taking him around the country to small villages and towns, serving out justice for those who were far from London, and was at last rewarded with a place at the Old Bailey and leased a townhouse of his own.   Gradually the numbness receded and he returned to resemble the man he once was, and reconciled with his brother.  Nonetheless the feeling of failing his lost children lurked just below the surface, and  certain things would trigger terrible bouts of depression or guilt that would last for days, sometimes weeks at a time.    He could range from anger to anxiety in the blink of an eye.  He would have terrible headaches, could not sleep, and would suffer through it all with only the comfort of his wife to help him back.  When she was not present, recovery was in the hands of his valet.

This time when the episode began,  Mrs. Darcy was at home at Pemberley, completely unaware of what was happening, and the judge was adamant that she and their son not be told.  Whatever sparked the resentment in the summer, the emotion of the judge transformed to full-out panic and impossibly deep depression for months.  When October arrived, the mood had lifted to a seething level of fury that only rarely let up and was difficult to hide.  Now it seemed that the depression had returned to the mix. 

Carson watched helplessly as his master fought to regain control by himself, and desperate to be of use, had, since it all began in June, secretly laced his wine with increasing doses of laudanum, the best known cure for his condition, just as he had five years earlier before his brother died.  The valet was deeply worried, but dared not inform anyone of his master’s situation for fear of him being called mad.

Returning to the room, he found the judge standing before the Pemberley landscape, rubbing his temple and reading his wife’s letter.  “Sir?”  He quietly offered him a glass, “your headache powder?” 

He took the wine and downed it in one gulp, and made a face at the bitter taste.  “What is this powder you always give me, Carson?  It tastes like laudanum.  Mother always said that it does not agree with me.  Mrs. Darcy uses herbs for my bad head.”

Keeping his face smooth, he nodded.  “I know that, sir.  The apothecary recommended this.  Would you like to rest now?”  

“Rest?”  He squeezed his eyes shut and then determinedly focussed on Susan’s letter, reading her words of love and support.  “Dear, sweet Susan.” He murmured and drawing in a deep breath, tried to relax and read on, “Georgiana . . .” 

“Miss Darcy, sir?”  Carson smiled.  “I have not seen her in years, she must be a grown woman by now, she will be marrying soon, I am sure.  I remember how much joy she brought to the house after her mother died.  Mrs. Darcy was so happy to care for her; I think that it helped both of you heal to have a baby in the house.” 

“Yes, my dear little girl was home.”  Judge Darcy said softly and sank into thoughts of having his babies back in his arms.  “Her father did not want her, she killed Anne . . .”

“Sir?”  Carson’s brow creased and watch the mood swing begin.

“We wanted her.”  His face reddened as he became agitated.  “We would have loved her!  She was denied her home!  She was sent from her rightful place!  Then Fitzwilliam does the same, sending her away to the sea!” 

Alarmed, Carson tried to soothe him, “Sir . . . no, Mr. Darcy only wanted you to look after her while he mourned, and his son surely just wanted her to enjoy Ramsgate for the summer.”