Apprehension and Desire: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (23 page)

“Wait!” she exclaimed, scrambling from under him, disappearing under the covers to crawl under them across the mattress. She appeared standing on the other side of the bed. “I must remove my clothes.”

He moved forward. “I will help you.”

“No!” she pushed her hands in front of herself. “I will do it. I do not want... anything to crumple or get damaged.”

Darcy’s eyebrows shot up. What did she imagine, that he would tear the nightgown off her?

She walked to the chair standing next to the wall and began to undress. First she removed her shoes and, later, her dressing gown, hanging it carefully over the furniture. She was less diligent with her nightgown, which she neglectfully flipped over her head.

For a moment she stood naked with her back to him, her thick braid hanging down her back, clearly shy to turn around. Not that he did not like the sight of her round backside. At last she did turn, after which she raced to the bed, diving under the covers. As the result of this action, he could not see much, or for a long time, but he enjoyed very much how her bosom swayed and jiggled during the run.

He shivered, feeling her naked soft body next to his as he brought her closer. Turning on his back he pulled her partially on him. “Let your hair free.” he said, palming her round, soft bottom.

“It will tangle,” she protested.

“Please.” He tugged at the ribbon at the end of her braid.

She moved away from him, sat up, and began loosening her braid.

“You hair is beautiful...” he dipped his hands into the rich mass of curls.

She shrugged, “It is hard to arrange ...too thick and unruly, heavy to pin up, curls too tightly on rainy days. Mama says I look like a Gypsy/gypsy?, not like an English lady should.”

Darcy bit his tongue not to say something very unpleasant about Mrs. Bennet.

“I like it.” He pushed her down on her back.

Hovering over her, he kissed her till she was all relaxed and yielding, before turning his attention to her breasts. She began pronouncing those sweet noises as he suckled on her, the same as the last time behind the hedgerow.

He kissed her belly and then opened her legs, shifting between her legs, spreading them. She arched like a bow when he kissed the inside of her thigh the first time. Happy with her initial response, he lay comfortably on his stomach and placed her warm thighs over his shoulders. He looked up at her; she did not protest but covered her face with hands.

His aim was to find a place he had heard about, which should bring her  pleasure. He pushed her black tight curls aside to uncover delicate, pinkish flesh. There it was, above her opening, a small button of flesh hooded for protection. He touched his mouth to the place and began to kiss it gently.

For a moment she was still, but then she began moving her hips and panting. He discovered that she reacted more violently when he did not touch the button directly, but only fleetingly, instead, kissing and touching around it.

“Ahh... ahhh....” her moans rose in volume, her belly was trembling and she pulled at the bed sheets. Confident that he found the right way to please her, he doubled his efforts and made her have her pleasure once again.

She was limp all over after that. He could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest when he ran his hand over her body, touching her right breast.

He cradled her to him for a while till she calmed down.

“I cannot believe it,” she whispered, opening her eyes, smiling at him. “I thought I would die, that my heart would not bear it.”

He laughed and kissed her forehead. Crouching in front of her, he reopened her thighs and not hesitating, pushed into her. He watched, fascinated as his manhood disappeared into her small opening, inch by inch. At one moment she hissed quietly, her face twisted in pain, her back arched. She placed her hands on his belly and pushed him away, her eyes wide. He pulled out at once and saw blood on his member.

She turned on her side with her back to him, bringing the sheet with her, curling into a ball.

For Darcy it was like a bucket of cold water poured over his head. He felt like a complete brute. What was he supposed to do now?

At last he moulded his body behind her, drawing the covers over both of them.

“Are you well?” he whispered, touching her arm.

Slowly, she turned her head, and looked at him, her expression troubled. “I did not expect it to feel quite like that.”

“Like what? Was it that painful? Unbearable?”

She searched his eyes and then slowly shook her head. “Do it again,.I think  it should be better now. It was probably like that only the first time.”

“I am not sure. If you could have seen your face when I...”

She turned on her back completely, “Please, do it again.” She put her hand on his bottom, trying to bring him closer.

“Please, I shall be fine,” she was coaxing him.

Darcy nudged himself between her thighs and she wrapped her hands and legs tightly around him. He pushed again, this time just a little bit, and stared into her face.

“Is it painful?”

She smiled. “No. I think... that I am getting used to the feeling.”

He was not sure whether she was completely sincere, because she hid her face into his chest, locking her arms tightly around his shoulders. He could hardly stop himself anymore and began to move. With each move, each thrust into her tight, warm, wet sheath it was getting harder and harder to be gentle. Soon, he lost himself completely in her, pushing her against the headboard, rocking the old, heavy bed.

He emptied into her and dropped onto her damp body.

After a long moment, he lifted on his arm and looked into her face. She smiled.

“You are well?”

She nodded.

He kissed the top of her breast and got out of bed, pulling on his dressing gown. He walked into a dressing room to the washstand and wetted the towel to clean himself. He returned to her with a clean one, sat on the edge and pulled the covers aside.

She stopped his hand, “I will do that.”

“No, no... It is my responsibility,” he pushed her on her back and opened her legs.

“Good God, Elizabeth...” he stared at the red, rather sizeable stain on the sheet. He touched her; she was still bleeding.

“I am sorry. I ruined the bed.”

He touched the towel to her thighs, wiping her clean. Soon new blood appeared.  “We must call a doctor!”

“No!” she cried. “We cannot.”

“Elizabeth, do you want to bleed yourself to death?”

“I will not; it is passing.”

He touched the clean part of the towel to her secret place again. There was a fresh patch of red on it.

“You hurt when I asked?” he asked angrily.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Why did you not tell me, stop me?”

“I...” she faltered, “I thought that it would lessen in time, and you... seemed to enjoy yourself so much.”

He ran his hand over his face. She was sitting, curled on the bed, clenching sheets to herself, not looking at him. What was he supposed to do now? He had expected some blood, but not that much. What he had done to her? Did he tear something he should not have? It could not be her monthly courses because she had just had them. He stared at the stained towel for a moment and hurried to bring a new one.

He returned in a minute and sat on the edge of the bed and brought her to him, “I am sorry.”  He stroked her hair, his arm around her. “It is my fault. I am a selfish oaf.” He nudged her thighs open, putting the clean, wet towel between them.

“No, it is me,” she whispered against his chest, her face wet from tears. “There must be something wrong with me.”

He cupped her face. “What are you saying, sweetheart? You are delicate, that is all. I heard of bleeding the first time, I am only not sure how long it should last. Perhaps we should wake Mrs. Gardiner. She should know what to do.”

“William, please, no, do not even think of that!” Her eyes pleaded with him, “I would die of shame. No, you can tell absolutely no one. This is such an intimate matter, please.”

As she was nearly hysterical, he said nothing more and began to rock her, till she calmed down.

He took out the towel and saw the red stains again. Will it ever end?

“Are you in pain now?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Truly? You are not lying to me?” he asked sharply, frowning at her.

“Truly. I feel well.”

He kissed the top of her head and went to bring another towel. As he found no clean one left, he utilized his own clean nightshirts, taken from the neat pile in the closet.  When he returned and wiped her clean again there seemed not to be any fresh blood.

“I think it stopped,” he said, the relief in his voice great. “Thank you, God,” he whispered.

“What will you say about the bed and the towels, the blood...?”

“My valet is very discreet. He will deal with it. Do not fret.”

He disentangled from her to bring her nightgown. He put it on her.

“May I sleep here?” she asked shyly.

“What kind of question is that?” He scolded gently and helped her under the covers. “You think that I will let you go before morning?”

He checked one more time whether she bled before putting out the candles. Thankfully, she did not. They moved to the other side of the bed, away from the bloody stains. As she fell asleep, snuggled against him, he decided that he needed to learn more about what had happened, ask someone knowledgeable, perhaps some trusted midwife, so he would know what to do if it repeated itself the next time. Her bleeding had nearly given him apoplexy.

When he woke up early in the morning, he was alone in bed, but there was a letter resting on the opposite pillow.

Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he took it and saw his name written on top of it, in Elizabeth’s handwriting.

“Elizabeth?” he called, getting out of the bed.

He walked into the dressing room but no one was there. He pulled on his dressing gown, and sat in a chair near the window, frowning over the letter.

Then he opened it and started to read.

Dearest William

If you are reading this letter it means that I lacked the courage last night to tell you everything in person.

I know that I must say this to you so I will start without preamble.

There is one matter which has bothered me greatly since the day I accepted your proposal of marriage. I want you to know that today I can honestly say that I care for you. I have fallen in love with you over the past months as I had the opportunity to know you better and discover how wonderful a person you are. My fault is that I did not love you when I accepted your proposal back in Kent. To be perfectly sincere, I did not like you particularly back them. I blamed you not only for Jane’s unhappiness but for Wickham’s supposed misfortunes as well.  I agreed to marry you that evening at Hunsford because I feared for my future and knew that a marriage to you would ensure me security.

It all started at the inn where we stopped for the change of horses as I travelled with Sir William and Maria to Kent. I saw my childhood friend there, Anne Parker...

***

An hour later, Darcy knocked at the door to Elizabeth’s room. Her maid opened and stood unmoving for a minute, her eyes round, staring at him, mouth open.

He walked inside and closed the door. The bed was empty and already neatly made.

“Is Miss Bennet in her rooms?”

She nodded. “Finishing her bath, Master.”

“Leave us alone now, and you have not seen me here. Do you understand?” He glared at the servant, using his most imposing, severe tone.

“Yes, Master.” The girl bowed and hurried out of the room.

Darcy turned the key in the lock so no one would interrupt them and walked farther inside the spacious chamber.  The room was situated in the guest part of the house, but still placed as close to the family wing as possible.

The door leading to the dressing room opened and Elizabeth walked in, wearing a dressing gown, towelling her hair dry.

“William!” she gasped.

He stepped closer, encircled her waist with his arm and walked her to the window. 

“Good morning, my love,” he kissed her brow, taking in her features, which he found a bit pale, “Are you feeling well?”

“Yes, I am well.”

He lowered his voice. “No more bleeding this morning?”

She shook her head.

He was not sure whether she tried to shield him from the truth, so without warning, he brought her closer, opened her dressing gown, and slid his hand inside, down her belly and between her thighs.

“William!” she scolded, blushing to the roots of her hair.

He pulled out his hand, thankfully clean of any blood, smiled and respectfully retied her dressing gown.

“You have not... found my letter?” she asked, as he sat on the chair and pulled her onto his lap.

“On the contrary.”

Her face reflected her astonishment, “You are not angry with me?”