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Although his decision had been motivated by his innate sense of chivalry—as he had not wanted to overwhelm Elizabeth by importuning her with a visit to her bedchamber on her first night at Pemberley—upon his awakening, Mr Darcy found himself tremendously lonely in his soft, spacious—yet, at once, regrettably empty and frigid—bed. His decision to slumber in solitude had been motivated by his attentiveness to the tremendous changes that Elizabeth had undergone since becoming his wife. Darcy cared so deeply for Elizabeth that he was prepared to give her all of the time and space that he felt she needed to adjust to her new reality as the mistress of Pemberley.
Elizabeth would not have been opposed to such a visit from her husband, yet she was nonetheless touched by his evident consideration in affording her the opportunity to first grow comfortable in her surroundings before admitting himself to her bedchamber. She thought it best not to inform Mr Darcy that he had erred much too far on the side of caution, for fear of causing him any serious embarrassment that would slow their progress in increasing their ease in sharing a room; a home; a life.
Nonetheless, she fully intended—throughout the course of the day—to make her husband aware that a night sleeping apart from him had been torturous. Especially now that she knew what it was to fall asleep whilst feeling the warmth of his body and his soft skin upon hers. Whereas, during their engagement, she had relied solely upon her imagination, now that she understood the myriad delights of Mr Darcy’s flesh—as he, in turn, knew those contained within hers—such an acute awareness only made any separation, no matter how fleeting, all the more excruciating to bear.
Mr and Mrs Darcy had shared a bed in the various inns in which they had sought shelter overnight, throughout the duration of their journey from town to Derbyshire. Being in such proximity had hastened the steady speed with which they were growing comfortable in each other’s presence; though a certain sense of shyness still lingered in their interactions. Their mutual affection was indisputable, but it would take some time to fully attain true tranquility in the modes by which they displayed the depths of their respective adoration.
Still, Elizabeth had every intention of utilising her first full day at Pemberley as its mistress to observe—under the guidance of Mrs Reynolds—not only how the household and its various staff functioned, but also to distinguish how Darcy would operate in the familiarity of his beloved home. She sought to ascertain how affectionate he wished to be in his environment. Elizabeth well knew that her husband could be a reserved man, governed by his strict sense of innate propriety. Amongst other traits, it had caused her to initially think the worst of him, but now she saw such attributes as highly desirable qualities in the man she would spend her life with. She hoped, at Pemberley, to find him perfectly at ease, and as tentatively, yet patently, affectionate as he had proved to be since their wedding night, which they had spent at their house in town.
The thought of seeing Mr Darcy under such relaxed circumstances thrilled Elizabeth, and she was determined that she would not, if she could possibly prevent it, pass another morning without experiencing the blissful feeling of waking up wrapped in the arms of the one she loved beyond comparison; for it was a delight Elizabeth knew that she could not long forgo.
It was with these objectives in mind that Elizabeth departed her bedchamber, when her lady’s maid—a thoroughly pleasant woman, whom she already well knew even at this early stage she would get on with famously—had made her departure after she had concluded dressing her mistress for the day. Mr Darcy had outdone himself with his selection for her abigail; he had chosen, to accompany his wife, a lady with a temperament that complemented Elizabeth’s exceedingly well.
Though their marriage was young—only a fortnight old—Mrs Darcy was certain that even if she had entered every ball-room in the land and the continent, or waited until she was an old maid, she still would not have found a man to better match her in disposition and talents than Mr Darcy. His understanding and temper had answered all of her wishes, and Elizabeth found that her admiration and gratitude towards him for ever loving her—for still loving her—increased each day; as Darcy’s own fondness for her only deepened. He had always appreciated her beauty, but his baseless bewitchment—for he had not truly known her—had dissipated, replaced with only the sense of the deepest and most enduring love and respect for his wife.
To be loved so deeply was, for them both, at once humbling and exhilarating. As such, Elizabeth could do little other than gleefully exit her chamber and await that hour, at which it had been agreed they would breakfast together, in the comfortable surroundings of her new apartments. She planned to pass this time, prior to that much-anticipated reunion with her husband, by quietly growing accustomed to her surroundings; she planned to walk through their rooms, admiring and appreciating the tastefulness of every furnishing of this particular area of her new home. It remained a thrilling prospect that this great house was now, in some way, hers; though any sense of being daunted and overawed by Pemberley’s magnificence was repelled by the reassurance of the strength of its master’s affection for her.
Yet, when Elizabeth opened the door, which adjoined the room between the master and mistress’s respective chambers, her brows raised in astonishment. There would be no room for making a quiet acquaintance with these rooms, as she discovered the sight—casual in its wonder—of her husband, quietly sitting and evidently awaiting her, with a trusty book for company. It was quite a surprise indeed! She felt her heart stutter within her chest, as her cheeks grew warm at the sight of him. Elizabeth had expected that she would have first encountered him in the breakfast room; with such a grand estate, it stood to reason that he would have been detained by his steward on some pressing matter of business, given the duration he had spent away from the estate.
The presence of Mr Darcy was, to Elizabeth, certainly a shock, but one that was far from unpleasant in nature.
‘Good morning, Mrs Darcy,’ said he smilingly, as he stood up from the settee—discarding his book as he did so—and purposefully approached her.
Elizabeth had scarcely concluded making her reply, of greeting him in kind, before Darcy stepped forward, cupped her chin and leaned down to gently press his lips against hers, for the tenderest of kisses. Elizabeth looked at him in surprise when, some moments later, he drew back from her lips. But Darcy did not seem so at ease, his brow—that she had once thought so proud, yet now saw within it vulnerability—furrowed in consternation and concern until, some moments later, asked he, ‘I beg your pardon, was that acceptable?’
Elizabeth would have chuckled, if not for the evident distress contained in both his countenance and in his tone of voice. She could not bear to leave her dear Darcy in such a dreadful state for any great duration, and quickly answered, ‘if you retain any doubt as to whether I welcome your kisses then I am heartily sorry for giving you reason to labour under such a misapprehension, Fitzwilliam.’
‘Forgive me,’ said Darcy, and looked away, shaking his head at himself. He took Elizabeth’s hands in his, and affixed his earnest gaze up at her, ‘since that day in Hertfordshire, when you made me the happiest of men, you have been perfect, my darling. You are everything I have wished for,’ vowed he in the most solemn of tones, before he lifted her small hands to his lips and pressed a kiss against each knuckle in turn.
Elizabeth, deeply touched by both his sentiment and the intimacy of his gesture, let out a shaky breath before she responded, ‘I could, indeed I would, say the same of you, husband .’ She delighted in the way Darcy’s eyes shone with pride at being referred to thus.
‘I am glad to hear it. But do not forget, dearest, that you have much to become accustomed to. A great many things have altered for you. I am most conscious that until very recently, you were Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, Hertfordshire. Now, you are Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire. I cannot help but be mindful of all that you gave up to be my bride. I do not wish you to feel any sense of obligation now that we are married, I want you to know that you are entitled to as much time and space as you require, while you enter this new stage of your life, Elizabeth.’
She was deeply moved by his sentiment, and a deep sense of gratitude was instilled within her, at having such an attentive, empathetic husband. Elizabeth assured him, ‘with your love, I am equal to any task. You have made me such a happy woman, the very happiest, that you may safely assume that any brush of your lips or hands against my person is most welcome indeed, wherever or whenever you should like to express your affection. I may have been a blushing bride, but I am not bashful no longer, Mr Darcy.’
Elizabeth looked up at him smilingly through her lashes, enjoying his evident surprise at her confession. Though stunned, Mr Darcy was in no way displeased by anything to which his wife had admitted.
As Darcy looked at her in astonishment, Elizabeth continued, ‘I relish each touch and caress you bestow upon me.’ Then, she laughingly exclaimed, ‘it is so strange! To think once, we could not abide each other, and now I can scarcely enjoy each kiss because I am already thinking about when and how I may next tease you into kissing me.’
‘Oh, Elizabeth,’ whispered Darcy, as he encircled her waist with his long arms and ignored her memories of the past, which did not bring him pleasure, ‘you need not resort to such measures to enjoy my kisses, my darling. We are married now. You may place your lips upon mine at any time of your choosing.’
Eager not to waste a second, Elizabeth stood on her tiptoes and seized the lapels of his tailcoat; her eager fingers dug into the starchy material as she pulled him towards her. Before she took him up on his kindest of offers, she murmured, ‘I shall hold you to that, Mr Darcy.’
But it was, instead, Mr Darcy who held Elizabeth to him; with his large hands splayed against her back, as he claimed her lips more eagerly upon this meeting; her warm breath had washed over his lips as she spoke, and had consequently sparked a desperate desire within him that he was much too besotted with his wife not to satisfy.
As the kiss deepened, Elizabeth smiled against her husband’s lips. She had her answer as to how affectionate her husband wished to be with her. It seemed that Mr Darcy was rather keen, now that they had returned to their home, on being most affectionate indeed .
It was several minutes before the master and mistress of Pemberley found it within themselves to finally draw back from each other, and Darcy remarked that they should make an appearance at breakfast, lest the servants think them wantons.
Elizabeth agreed and proudly took his offered arm, and Mr Darcy happily led her away from their apartments and down the lofty halls of her magnificent new home, towards the breakfast room; towards the rest of their lives together.