Page 85 of Knowing Mr. Darcy
“I did, yes,” he said ruefully.
“Dowhat?”
“Come,” he said. “You know, a little death.”
She didnotknow. She was silent.
He kept talking. “I’m frightfully inexperienced and noteven a little bit skilled when it comes to women, you see, and you… it’s not usually that easy. I think you might be some kind of goddess, Elizabeth. I don’t know how I managed to be so lucky as to get the opportunity to worship you for the rest of my life, but I am pathetically grateful for it, for this, for you. Thank you. I don’t deserve you.”
She cleared her throat. “Well, I don’t know that my behavior is anything that any man should be grateful for. I suppose you must think me some sort of…” She couldn’t say the words she was thinking out loud in front of him.
“Oh, you don’t know anything about men, Elizabeth,” he said, and he was laughing again. He pulled her more tightly into his arms. “You are the sort of woman any man would fight for, depend upon it. I only hope I can continue to please you.”
She snuggled in against him. She liked being held. “But I behaved wantonly. It was sinful. I wasn’t virtuous or—”
“None of that. You tried to stop it and I wouldn’t let you,” he said. “It is entirely my fault.” He kissed the top of her head. “I shall rectify it by marrying you as soon as is humanly possible. Not that I have any desire to wait to marry you, anyway, none atall, so it’s all working out very nicely for me, I must say. I might be the luckiest man in the entire country.” He laughed once more.
She couldn’t help but smile. “I think I shall be rather lucky to be married to you, too. And I think…” She squirmed. “I don’t know anything about it, obviously, but I’ve heard that it’s awful and painful, and that was… I think youmightbe skilled, quite skilled.”
“Mmm, yes, skilled at letting you rub yourself on my finger. I didn’t do anything.” He was delighted. “The way you trembled against me…” He shuddered.
Oh.Thatwas what he meant. The little burst thing at the end of it. To come. A little death, yes, she’d read that term. And now, she was belatedly thinking of that time she’d watchedAntony and Cleopatraand everyone was laughing at the death scene, which she had found bewildering, even though there had been some strange element to the way theyhad played it, something she was now realizing was overtly sexual. She even remembered bits of the dialogue.Where art thou, death? Come hither, come! Come, come. Hmm. Interesting. She tucked this bit of knowledge away.
“But is this all there is between us?” she whispered.
“Allthere is?” he said, amused. “This is quite something, what’s between us, I think. Something rare and unique and rather wonderful.”
Of course he thought that. He was a man, and he would be able to do as he liked with his life, going after whatever he wanted. In the grand scheme of things, a wife was a portion of his life and pursuits.
For her, being his wife would be the most important aspect of her.
Well.
She had already been quite willing to marry Mr. Bingley, and she never felt so incredibly attracted to him, not the way she felt with Mr. Darcy.
What more did she want?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ELIZABETH WAS WORRIEDit would show.
Well, there was the fact their clothes were in disarray. Stains on fabric, her skirts crumpled, all of that sort of thing. Mr. Darcy didn’t seem to mind his trousers. He seemed to think it was all a bit of a joke, or maybe a badge of his own virility. She thought, maddeningly, he was sort of proud of himself for having deflowered her. She could not be proud of it, of course.
But it was more than that. She was afraid it would be visible on her countenance or in her bearing. She thought she would see her father and her sisters and her aunt and uncle and something about her would declare to them, loudly,Elizabeth is no longer a virgin.
However, in this, her fears proved empty. There was not even any censure about their having traveled to London alone, though Mr. Darcy had assured her he would speak to the driver of the carriage and his valet, who’d ridden up top with him, and make sure they were discreet. He seemed quite assured of his servants’ silence.Anyway,he’d said blithely,it’s rather common, you know, for people not to be able to wait.
If it was common, why was there so much condemnation of it?
On the other hand, maybe that did speak to its being common. Why harp on not doing it so much if people didn’tdo it rather often?
It was late. She was sent straight to bed, and she lay there, still feeling the echo of him inside her, the stretch and imprint of having been filled all the way up.
She wanted to do it again.
She was the very definition of sin, she thought, but she felt herself smiling at that thought. She was sure of him, that was the truth of it. He was desperate to marry her, and she didn’t have any fear that she’d really made a mistake.
The next day, Darcy, Bingley, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Wickham all called at Gracechurch Street. The men, including both her father and Mr. Gardiner, holed up in some other part of the house and came out, later, with a marriage agreement drawn up for Lydia.
