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Considering that this day was supposed to make him the happiest of men, to onlookers, Fitzwilliam Darcy appeared to personify all emotions but happiness. Ever since the coach that would convey him and his wife to town had finally departed Longbourn, his countenance had been nothing but grave and vexed. It appeared that the rhythmic clip clopping of horses now provided him with ample opportunity to brood over all that had transpired on this most transformative of days. Fortunately, Mr Darcy’s bride was not distressed in the slightest by her husband’s sullen air; for Mrs Darcy had little room to doubt the cause of his frustration.
Elizabeth had taken tremendous pride in the way her betrothed had conducted himself in the presence of her relations throughout their engagement. Indeed, she had taken several steps to protect Mr Darcy, by engaging him in frequent conversation whenever the more exasperating members of Meryton society were present. She had been known to persuade her husband-to-be to take a turn about the grounds with her whenever Mrs Phillips or Sir William Lucas were near, usually with Mary acting as a chaperone, with the middle Bennet sister often too occupied with a book to pay much mind to them. It supplied them with opportunities to explore new ways of showing their affection for each other, with their bodies as much as their extensive vocabularies.
Over the course of his stay in Hertfordshire during their engagement, Elizabeth had grown quite adept at identifying signs when Darcy’s patience was wearing thin. Whether it be via a wrinkle of the brow, a hand frustratedly fiddling with his sleeve, or covering some part of his face; each small action gave an indication that he was unamused. She had scarcely seen him as frustrated as when, upon entering the parlour one afternoon—her father had detained her in the study, making the most of the remaining time he had left at Longbourn with his favoured daughter—she discovered Darcy in conversation with the mortifying Mrs Long. The ridiculous woman still held a grudge from his behaviour at the Meryton assembly above a twelvemonth prior, when he had ignored her for half-an-hour and eventually responded with frustration when she made conversation with him. Of course, Elizabeth now understood that Mrs Long had likely not become formally acquainted with him, but regardless still felt some entitlement to involve herself in his business—as she did with much of the neighbourhood. On that particular occasion, a tactful request that Darcy stand with her while she poured coffee for their guests averted catastrophe.
Still, Elizabeth delighted in how much his manners had improved with her assistance and gentle persuasion. Although Darcy remained far from an easy conversationalist, he was prepared to at least attempt to speak to strangers in an amicable manner. Some residents of Meryton had proved pleasant company and pleasing conversation partners. His efforts had borne fruit closer to his bride-to-be’s home, too, as he bonded over books with Mr Bennet and had even discovered a certain affection for Kitty, with the youngest remaining daughter at Longbourn reminding him of his beloved sister whom he greatly missed as she remained in town with her companions.
However, all amiability had abandoned Darcy during the wedding breakfast, which was held at Longbourn.
Elizabeth had watched for what felt like hours as her husband struggled in vain to extricate himself from Mr Collins’ inane ramblings, while she attempted to disentangle herself from her garrulous mother's barrage of questions and exclamations. Alas, it was to no avail, for they departed for town several hours later than intended, leading to Darcy’s present predicament. Elizabeth cursed her mother and Mr Collins for not possessing the prescience to appreciate how eager the newlyweds were to begin their journey to town and consummate their marriage.
Elizabeth visibly cringed as she thought back to the scene at Longbourn, the way her mother’s cheeks had been flushed bright red with excitement as she had babbled away over tea…
‘Oh, Lizzy, what pin money you shall have! And your jewels are already so fine. I wonder how many more you shall be gifted in Derbyshire!’
‘Yes, mamma, he is the most generous man whom I—’
‘And that coach outside, oh! I have never seen such a grand vehicle!’
‘Yes, perhaps Mr Darcy and I should soon board it and depart before it grows dark…’
But Mrs Bennet prattled on as though she was suddenly hard of hearing, ‘I rather enjoyed seeing Lady Lucas so vexed today, my dear! To think, you almost ended up at Hunsford Parsonage with Mr Collins! Imagine, you being married merely to a clergyman! To see my daughters married to men of such consequence will be quite the struggle for her to bear. Oh Jane! My Jane! What a beautiful bride she made…’
Elizabeth sighed and gave up on the conversation completely. She could not get a word in edgeways. Two daughters married on the same day had caused all of Mrs Bennet’s already slender existing regard for proprietary to desert her entirely.
Unfortunately, the silliness on display in the parlour at Longbourn was not limited to the bride’s mother. There was plenty of it to go around in her family. While Elizabeth was engaged by her hysterical mother, Darcy was on the receiving end of a solemn sermon from her ridiculous clergyman cousin.
‘I must implore you, Mr Darcy, to treat marriage to my cousin Elizabeth with the gravity it deserves. Though I know any relation of the esteemable Lady Catherine could never be a sinner, I feel it is my duty as an ordained servant of the Lord, to remind you of the vows you made before him today.’
‘Sir, it has scarcely been above an hour. Pray, do not think my memory so poor!’ Darcy pleaded, alas to no avail.
‘I merely wish to remind you that you must conduct yourself—as you embark upon this new stage of your life—reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God.’
Darcy stared at him, his mouth widened in incredulity, wondering how it was possible for a man to be so thoroughly stupid!
‘Now, as for your wedding night, I feel obliged to remind you not to conduct yourself as a brute beast with no understanding of the vow you have just made. No, your union must not be viewed as a means by which to satisfy your carnal lusts and appetites…’
Elizabeth’s thoughts were returned to the present with alacrity at the sound of her husband barking at the driver to increase their pace.
‘If you do not pick up your pace, we shall not make it to London by next week, nevermind nightfall!’ Darcy bellowed as he rapped his cane against the coach’s roof. Then he slumped back into his seat, brow furrowed, without even a glance at his astonished wife. Instead, he turned to the window and stared out of it, fiddling with his sleeve as he surveyed the slowly passing miles.
Darcy’s grave, silent and brooding manner reminded Elizabeth of his countenance upon his return to Hertfordshire, when he had called unexpectedly with Mr Bingley to Longbourn. Her thoughts turned to her sister, who she suspected would be dealing with a considerably less sullen husband of her own. Not for the first time in her life, Elizabeth envied her sister. The new Mrs Bingley had only three miles to journey from Longbourn to her new life at Netherfield. They were to embark on a bridal tour to visit Bingley's relations in the North, but not before they had enjoyed a few precious days together in their new home, with no arduous coach journeys to thwart their lustful designs upon each other.
Eventually, Elizabeth resolved that she must alleviate her husband’s suffering somehow if the rest of her wedding night was to be anything other than a haze of ill-contained frustration, borne out of Mr Darcy’s inability to act upon his lust for much of the day. A lady such as herself expected—though would never dream of demanding—at least a little sentimentality and tenderness on her wedding night. If Darcy was to provide it, she would have to grant him some relief during this journey.
Although Elizabeth was a maiden and consequently retained some ignorance as to the particulars of what lay ahead for her wedding night, she and Darcy had managed to sneak away for some liaisons during their engagement, so she was not entirely ignorant towards pleasure. Her education had come from sources other than encounters with her betrothed, too; Elizabeth could be a voracious reader when persuaded to be, and had been surprised—albeit immensely grateful—to discover the number of illicit volumes contained in her father’s library. Mr Bennet’s inattentiveness to her reading habits and, indeed, to his own collection should a volume go missing, meant that she had picked up plenty of ways that a wife might provide pleasure to her husband.
With a glance around to her fellow passenger, who was still simmering quietly with frustration as he glared at the passing countryside, Elizabeth closed the gap between them on the plush seat. Darcy did not perceive her presence. So, determined to grab his attention, she daringly placed her hand upon his thigh, as her pulse pounded in her ears at her own forwardness.
‘What are you doing!?’ Darcy snapped as he jerked his head around. She was not spared from the dark fury in his eyes.
Elizabeth would have been quite hurt by the tone in his voice, were she not certain that her plans would make it so that he never again spoke to her in anything less than the tenderest of tones. After all, it was partly her fault that he was in this state for having such a ridiculous family.
‘I am merely easing your frustration, sir,’ Elizabeth responded with a mischievous smirk.
Darcy looked at his wife quizzically as her hand crept up his thigh, drawing dangerously close to that bulge in his breeches which her eyes had been drawn to many times, especially when he approached her on horseback. Elizabeth contemplated the ring on the finger of her left hand, slipped onto her finger in the presence of God and her family mere hours ago. He had given it to her with the promise to worship her body with his own, but in a twist of irony, Elizabeth would be the party devoted to worship.
Elizabeth undid the buttons of his falls on the front of his breeches with trembling fingers, her hand inadvertently brushing against his hardness in the process. Darcy groaned to such an extent that she was glad the clopping horses created such a din. She had not yet truly touched him, and already he was writhing and gasping at her motions. His pleasure only increased when she tentatively wrapped her hand around his hardening member and freed him from the confines of his clothing, thanking the Lord her new husband had the providence to select for his wedding day a garment with such a convenient flap!
At the sight of Darcy’s impressive length, her tongue involuntarily darted out to wet her lips in anticipation of what would follow. Perhaps Darcy assumed that Elizabeth was merely going to take him in hand as she had previously, for when she leaned over and her mouth hovered perilously close to his crotch, he grasped the underside of her chin and pushed it up and away.
'Elizabeth! You do not have to... I would never expect.... oh! It is indecent for your mouth to be placed… there!'
'Nonsense, husband. I am merely paying you back for the kindness you showed me in the grove near Netherfield.'
He groaned at her evocation of the illicit memory. What a delicious scene it had been; Darcy, knelt on the filthy ground before his betrothed, as she had sat on a log from some long-ago felled tree, so he could bury his face between her thighs and lap at her core until she had screamed his Christian name, while her breath had created clouds in the cold morning air. Afterwards, he had showered her face and hair with tender pecks as she regained her breath, before they had emerged into the open an indeterminable time later in a lust-addled haze; his chin was still glistening in the fresh morning light as they had hastily concocted a scheme to account for their mud-stained attire.
'In addition, Mr Darcy,’ Elizabeth continued. Her hot breath washed over his most sensitive flesh, as she continued to make her case for permission to continue her present intentions, and he gave another whimper at the sensation, ‘I am merely ensuring that your bad mood does not extend to our household staff upon our arrival into town. I am quite eager to make a positive first impression, you see.'
A combination of his wife's words and the mischievous sparkle in her fine eyes had thoroughly convinced Mr Darcy that such a course of action was acceptable. With wide eyes and mouth agape at her audaciousness, Darcy conveyed his approval with a small nod. He scarcely had time to be concerned with the temerity displayed by his bride, before the warm heat of her mouth enveloped him and consumed his thoughts entirely.
All Darcy could do was tangle his fingers in her hair and fight every urge to thrust his hips upwards even deeper into her mouth. He could spare no thought for how mussed her carefully styled ringlets would surely appear upon their disembarkation. His thoughts were entirely occupied by the devastating motions of her tongue. Elizabeth’s mouth had been utilised to engage in numerous verbal spars with him over the course of their acquaintance, but Mr Darcy quite preferred her present employment of it!
Elizabeth’s head bobbed and her tongue swirled around his shaft, as she encircled the flesh she could not fit in her mouth with her small hand. Her actions produced the most obscene noises, which only drove Darcy’s desire to new heights. He gasped with each stroke of her tongue around his pulsing hardness.
He thought he had reached the pinnacle of pleasure. Then, Elizabeth somehow took him in even deeper and his vision blurred and he conceded he was quite mistaken, for it was even more glorious than before. The heat around him meant the thin thread of his very grasp on reality came increasingly close to unravelling entirely. In a bid to extend the encounter, Darcy pushed Elizabeth's head back and away from him.
Elizabeth looked up at him questioningly as she withdrew her mouth from his length with an obscene pop. He mourned the loss of her heat, but the presence of her hand around his length ensured that he was not entirely bereft of her touch. Darcy keened at the sight of her darkened eyes and swollen, reddened lips from the exertion. He was barely able to form words.
‘Elizabeth, oh!’ he panted, ‘you will prove the death of me!’
The smug, satisfied look in her eyes which he detected, clearly pleased with her effect on him only deepened his desire. She was a goddess! Surely a vision of heaven itself. As Elizabeth leaned down to reclaim him with her mouth, Darcy dug his fingers into the plush material of the seat in a desperate attempt to prolong his pleasure. Ironically, despite his earlier desperation to find some relief, he wanted such an encounter to last for as long as possible.
Until Elizabeth had freed him from his breeches and had taken him into her mouth, Darcy had been certain that having her abed—as he had long fantasied about—would be the most erotic moment of his life to date. Since their engagement, he had spent countless nights touching himself as he imagined Elizabeth laid bare before him; Darcy had imagined how it would be to see her hair in its natural form, her long tresses finally taken down especially for he alone to see; Darcy had hoped that she would confidently beckon him towards her with pure adoration written across her features, as she would be as eager to consummate the marriage as he.
But nothing could compare to this. What a fortunate man he was to have gained a loving and selfless wife, who thought of bringing him pleasure in such a manner. This magnificent gesture was almost worth the agony he had endured at Longbourn!
Yet, thoughts of Longbourn and of anything else quite escaped his mind as Elizabeth renewed her dedication to improving his sullen mood with renewed ardour. The pace of her hand increased in its strokes around the base of his length, as her mouth raced to match it. Each bob of her head and swirl of her tongue only increased in his breathlessness, until he felt that all remaining air had been expelled from his lungs. His vision blurred and the grip he had in her hair tightened as he hurtled towards the height of his pleasure. He chanted her name in a prayer, venerating the Goddess who moved her mouth so magnificently around him.
His shouts became louder and louder until he cried one last, long ‘Elizabeth!’ as he reached his peak, far too lust-addled to give thought to the noise he made, nor to the mess created by his completion.
When he came to his senses, he noticed that his seed had spilled onto her creamy breasts. The vision before him was so erotic that he was momentarily concerned he would fall victim to apoplexy; to observe Elizabeth marked by his spend ignited a possessive fire within him that quickly raged as an inferno. What a way it would be to expire! As he sat there in the glorious aftermath, Darcy was unable to compose himself. Every muscle in his body trembled and spasmed, as his entire being was overcome with pleasure.
Eventually, Mr Darcy collected himself and remembered his manners. He offered Elizabeth his handkerchief, which she gratefully—albeit with a degree of shyness—accepted from his outstretched hand. After she had removed evidence of their recent encounter, and he had tucked himself back into his breeches and buttoned his fall, Elizabeth curled into Darcy’s side and rested her cheek in the crook of his neck, as she encircled his waist with her arm. Darcy noted, with a prideful smirk, how it appeared as though their bodies were made for each other, given how effortlessly they slotted together.
‘Are you well, my love?’ Darcy questioned, determined to behave in a gentlemanlike manner, even if the fact that he had just permitted his wife to act in such a manner had been rather ungentlemanly.
‘Quite,’ Elizabeth happily sighed, ‘though I believe I only resorted to such a stunt in order to ensure your mood improved.’
‘To that end, you have been quite successful indeed, Mrs Darcy.’
Elizabeth raised her head and glanced at him, smiling so brilliantly that her eyes sparkled, even in the decreasing light. Then she leaned in, to press a gentle kiss upon Darcy’s lips. He raised his hand to her jaw, cupping it as he stroked a thumb gently across her cheek for as long as the kiss continued. When she eventually pulled away, he softly smiled at her, believing himself more in love with her than he had ever thought a man as reserved as he could be capable of.
If he were not so fatigued by the pleasure which had just coursed through his body, Darcy was certain that he would have used the remainder of their journey to take some of the liberties with his wife afforded to him as a husband and to worship her with his body as he had vowed in that same ceremony. But the warmth that he felt in every extremity made him vulnerable to slumber.
Instead of continuing their amorous activities, Darcy leaned his head back and pulled Elizabeth into him. As his eyelids grew leaden, Darcy thought with a smirk that Mr Collins’ lecture had been quite useless. The act his wife had just performed certainly did not assist in procreation, but it undoubtedly contributed to a happy marriage. His last thought before he dozed off was upon his determination that he would show Elizabeth how grateful he was for the kindnesses she had shown him later that evening, in the sanctuary of her bedchamber.
It was only when the coach halted outside their townhouse that they stirred, alarmed by the sudden stationariness. Both Mr and Mrs Darcy were rather exhausted by the events of the day. Though Elizabeth was reasonably certain that her husband retained some stores of energy which would miraculously appear once they were finally alone in their quarters.
As the newlyweds disembarked, the coach driver observed that Mr Darcy’s spirits appeared much-improved from the beginning of their journey. He had been furious as he boarded the coach, barking commands in a way that the driver had only perceived on one other occasion; this past August, when an apparent emergency had necessitated his presence in town only one day after he returned to Pemberley. Whatever had improved his mood, the coach driver was grateful for it. The master even thanked them for a smooth journey!
As Mrs Darcy took her husband’s hand and stepped down from the coach herself, the longtime servant wondered whether the unmistakable flush in his new mistress’s cheeks and her unkempt hair, just visible under her bonnet, had anything to do with the matter. Now that he thought about it, this sudden upturn in his spirits appeared to coincide with the way Mr Darcy had cried out his wife’s Christian name; such ejaculations had been audible even above the cantering horses. The coach had been rather quiet indeed after that last, drawn out and strangled cry of ‘Elizabeth!’.
The driver smiled knowingly to himself. Oh, to be so young, and so hopelessly in love.