Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice Sequel Bundle: 3 Reader Favorites (150 page)

Finally the courses had been served and taken away barely eaten. With scarcely concealed enthusiasm and a faint rosiness to her cheeks, Elizabeth announced that she would retire to her dressing room to change. Darcy nearly choked on his wine, but managed to maintain a calm demeanor as she rose from the table and leaned over to give him a brief kiss of passionate promise.

“Will it suit you if I am ready in half an hour?” she asked softly, to which he could only nod. With a tender caress to his cheek, she turned and left the room.

Never had thirty minutes lasted so long! Darcy truly thought he would lose his mind. He wandered into the small library and pulled a book off a shelf at random. Any attempt to actually read it was ludicrous to the extreme, but he made a show of it, employing all his well-perfected composure.

After twenty minutes he could stand it no longer and briskly strode to his dressing room. The house’s manservant was awaiting him and assisted Darcy with his toilette. Darcy again found himself calling upon every ounce of his strength of will not to rush through the agonizingly slow procedures. Common sense did prevail, thankfully, since he did not reckon his new wife would appreciate her new husband arriving with a bleeding face!

Eventually all was done and he nervously entered the bedchamber, only to find it empty of his wife. He wandered around the room, pleased with the
décor and the attention to detail Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton had ensured. There were several vases of flowers about the room, a bottle of chilled champagne, a platter of fruits and sweets and breads, a sofa, and an enormous bearskin rug with several cushions before the blazing fire. The spacious four-poster bed was turned down invitingly, plump pillows waiting. Darcy went to the window and gazed out at the moonlit lake behind the house, breathing deeply to calm his nerves and halt his trembling. Nothing to do but wait.

Lizzy finished her preparations and dismissed her maid. The allotted thirty minutes had passed, but she remained seated at her vanity absently brushing her hair as she stared into the mirror, lost in memory.

Lizzy was no longer afraid of the intimacy to take place this night. In fact, she was actually highly excited, as scandalous as that may be in the opinion of some, such as her mother. However, it had taken some time for her to come to her current level of anticipation. She was a maiden, of course, but she understood the concept of the mating process. She had grown up on a working farm after all! However, understanding the mechanics of the sexual act in animals was far different than comprehending all the nuances inherent in the activity between people. The truth was that she had given the matter absolutely no thought.

Until William.

Upon her engagement, especially with the first tender kisses and touches of her betrothed, she found herself unable
not
to consider the realities. In fact, there were times when her mind could not focus on any topic except the intimate relationship between a man and woman, or more specifically between her and her fiancé. Usually, these times occurred when Darcy was near, but even visualizing him elicited the musings. Also, there were her dreams. The feelings and sensations his very presence engendered, not to mention when he touched or kissed her, were strong and incredibly pleasant.

As the weeks progressed, she found herself vacillating among excitement, shyness, desire, fear, happiness, anxiety, and every other emotion possible. That she desired Darcy was not a shock; it was the depth of her desire and the most obvious depth of his passion for her that left her stunned and breathless. He was so much more worldly than she! Would she be able to live up to his expectations? Would she know what to do when the time came? Would he be disappointed?

She smiled at the remembrance of her fears, easily conjuring up the uncertainty she had felt in those days not so very long ago and how Darcy had erased all of them.
My amazing William
, she thought, closing her eyes,
how perfect he is and how I love him
.

Three days before the wedding

L
IZZY AWOKE WITH A
start and a gasp. She was breathing heavily, as if having run for miles uphill. Her body trembled and sweat beaded on her brow. This was the fourth morning in a row she had awoken in such a state.

She looked over at Jane sleeping peacefully by her side. Jane, luckily, slept like the dead and never seemed anxious or perturbed about anything. Rather annoying actually and Lizzy peevishly wanted to pinch her, but she resisted the urge. The glow of the sunrise was barely peeking through the drawn curtains. It could not be but six o’clock, if that. Lizzy knew it useless to attempt returning to sleep, nor did she want to.

That might make the nightmare return.

With a shudder she carefully left the bed, not that Jane would wake up even if she jumped up and down several times! Lizzy pulled on her robe and curled up in the plump chair by the window.

William, where are you?
He had been away for a week and she missed him desperately. The ache was actually physical. He had traveled, again, to London to finalize his business interests and settle various unresolved issues. He was sacrificing this time, he explained to her, so that his affairs would not need his immediate attention during the first weeks of their marriage. His greatest
desire was to be alone with her at Pemberley with minimal intrusions, business or otherwise. She appreciated what he was suffering on her behalf, but it still was grim to be separated from him. His letters, arriving once—sometimes twice—each day, comforted her. In clear language he poured into each sentence his own grief at their sundering and his enduring love.

His return had been expected yesterday. A sudden and violent storm had erupted, however. She had sat by the window all day and long into the evening, wishing urgently to see him yet also panic stricken at the thought of him venturing into the fury of the lightning and unrelentingly lashing rain. Finally, very late, she had tumbled into bed exhausted. Her sleep, when it did overtake her, had been troubled. Then came the nightmare.

Each night the same… She was in a bedchamber unknown to her. There were no furnishings except for a ridiculously huge bed that filled the room and reduced her to the size of the dwarves she had seen once when the circus came to Meryton. At first she was alone and wearing a diaphanous dressing gown from her trousseau with her hair free about her shoulders. Then Darcy was there exactly as she had seen him when he proposed: hair windblown, loose shirt open at the neck, and no concealing waistcoat or tight jacket. Altogether fetching.

Initially it was the perfect dream. He held her, kissed her, and caressed her body as she had hitherto only imagined. The subtle sensations she experienced in her waking life when he touched her were, in her dream, magnified tenfold and felt in areas of her body she did not even know existed. It was heaven!

Then abruptly it would change. She would panic; fear would rise in her throat, threatening to choke her. She would struggle and beg him to let her go, but he would refuse. Gone was the William she knew and loved, his beautiful face altered into the proud, arrogant mien that he had displayed at the Meryton Assembly. Then he would look at her with disgust and anger and hurt, as he had when she rejected him at Rosings. At the last, he would turn from her and vanish. It was then that she would startle awake, gasping for air, his name on her lips.

Lizzy knew why she was having this nightmare. She was afraid. As simple as that. Her wedding was just three days away and she wanted to marry Mr. Darcy with all her soul, but she was dreadfully terrified of disappointing him and unsure of his expectations.

The tender liberties partaken during these past weeks of their engagement had revealed a side of her fiancé that Lizzy would not have initially suspected.
Reserved, disciplined, shy Mr. Darcy hid a deeply passionate nature. He was always the gentleman, always strictly conscious of propriety, and severely respectful of Lizzy’s reputation.

Yet, on more than a few occasions his resolve and constraint had been dangerously close to being lost. On a handful of those occasions they had crossed minor lines that would be considered improper by most, but he had harshly and agonizingly controlled himself. She could clearly sense when he teetered on the edge in his ardor for her. If ever the term “violently in love” applied to a person, it aptly described her William.

She would not be truthful if she denied that his zeal for her was flattering and more than a little bit welcome. As evidenced by the first part of her dream, sensations and desires were coursing through her with every touch and kiss. Merely thinking about him, hearing his lush voice, or seeing his smile would send rivers of electricity up her spine. Innocent little Lizzy Bennet was more than a tiny bit affected by the presence, touch, and kiss of her betrothed!

She, too, had experienced her moments of urgently wanting more and wishing desperately that he was not always so controlled. Yet, as they had come to know each other better, spending hours in conversation, the comprehension of his maturity and worldliness had struck her forcibly. The scope of how her life was to change as Mrs. Darcy, Mistress of Pemberley and wife to this complex man with intense bridled passions and taut emotions, was overwhelming.

Thankfully, she had shared her concerns and emotions with her Aunt Gardiner. The wiser woman had spoken with both girls at length, allaying many of their fears and answering the pointed questions Lizzy had. Her aunt was an earthy woman, forthright and blunt. The clinical details of the art of lovemaking were candidly illuminated. Jane had scurried from the room halfway through the conversation, never to return. Lizzy brazenly remained and cataloged each piece of information. She had been tremendously relieved afterwards and looked upon Darcy with new eyes, causing her to blush profusely more than once, to his puzzlement.

Unfortunately, her mother broached the subject several times, much to her and Jane’s dismay. Her parent’s opinion was the diametrical opposite of Aunt Gardiner’s. There was absolutely no doubt how her mother viewed the marriage bed. Her mother and father had an easy familiarity, and Lizzy supposed they cared for each other, but it assuredly was not a marriage of passion.

Mrs. Bennet clearly spoke of the sexual act as a trial to be endured with no evidence of pleasure to be gleaned. She confidentially and with pride imparted
such pearls of wisdom as how to use their monthly woman’s cycle to stave off unwanted advances, the vital necessity of separate bedchambers with stout locking mechanisms, and the crowning gem: the headache.

“It works every time,” she confidently declared. “Of course, what proper lady would not suffer with a headache at the very idea of a man’s advances?”

As embarrassing as her mother’s well-meaning tirades were, she and Jane usually could find the humor in them. Lizzy knew her mother’s faults well and could shrug off her assertions in this regard. She was confident that her aunt’s advice was superior to her mother’s.

No, the disquiet did not come from this but from the personal assaults on Mr. Darcy that her mother had made. It had happened a week ago, on the very afternoon that Mr. Darcy left for Town. They were in the parlor and Mrs. Bennet had launched into a conversation about wifely expectations, again. Jane rolled her eyes at Lizzy, and Lizzy had to bite her inner lip to keep from laughing. Mary and Kitty surreptitiously slipped from the room. Initially it was innocuous enough but then her tone altered. Lizzy could still recall every single word.

“The important thing to remember, girls,” Mrs. Bennet said, fan fluttering, “is to be firm with your husbands. Naturally, you must submit when necessary; however, there are ways to avoid this, as I have revealed to you both. Jane should have no problems in this regard as her Mr. Bingley is so amiable and gentlemanly. He would never force himself on you, dear Jane. It is you, my Lizzy, who I fear for.”

Lizzy’s attention was caught by her mother’s last words, but she was puzzled. “Whatever do you mean, Mother?” she asked.

“Oh, Lizzy!” her mother responded with a catch in her voice, as if what she was to say grieved her. “Mr. Darcy is so proud and arrogant! He is a gentleman to be sure, but also a man of substance, accustomed to having others abide by his orders and being in control. You will learn, I dread, that his demands on your person may be tremendous!” She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief.