Chapter Text
He entered the room without a word.
She looked up from the letter she was writing to her sister and stared at her husband. He stood at the threshold, tall and forbidding, his expression cold, his eyes unreadable. She wondered if his heart was as cold, if it was frozen in stone.
Mr. Wickham had once told her that her husband could be warm towards those he cared for, or cared to please. She had seen it herself in his interactions with his sister, Georgiana. Elizabeth wondered what she would have to do to receive such care from him. He had certainly been chivalrous towards her when he agreed to this marriage, in spite of their feelings towards each other and her limited means. She found it hard to reconcile a man who would marry her in these circumstances with the cold, unfeeling creature she knew he could be.
"May I have you tonight,” he plainly asked, standing in the doorway and offering no solicitations.
She did not understand why the question was posed, when she had no recourse to reject him. Even if she could deny him, she was well aware her only chance of surviving this marriage depended on offering him a child.
"I would welcome your company," she responded, her tone neutral, and returned to her letter.
"Would you?" he said, sounding surprised, and walked towards the fireplace.
The room was filled with tension and it made her feel uneasy. It was as if a storm was brewing, but she had no shelter. She could not read his mood. Was he angry? Would he hurt her tonight? Her fear was palpable and she hoped he could not see it. She tried to steady her breathing and will her heart to stop pounding.
She did not like her own behaviour, she was not acting as she usually did, but she felt helpless in his presence. Her mother had warned her to keep him happy and she had failed so far, not understanding what that entailed. He had barely condescended to speak to her during the drive. When they stopped at the inn to change horses and take some refreshment, he had left her alone in the coach. When he did join her, they barely spoke a word.
The coach ride had been exhausting. Each night, she had feared the moment he would approach her bed. She could not sleep at night and was tired now. The only rest she could have was during the journey. But her mind would not rest and she felt anxious and fearful.
She looked up and met his eyes. They were intense, burning, and she felt as if he was staring into her soul.
"You are very pale. Have you slept at all last night?"
Elizabeth was taken aback by the question and his concern for her well-being. "A little."
"You do not look well. Perhaps you would rather not..."
She did not know what to say, whether she would prefer to put off sharing a bed with him, even if it meant avoiding intimacy tonight. Perhaps it was better to no longer have the deed hanging over her head.
"No, I will welcome your company," she replied.
He gave her a curious look.
"What were you writing?" he asked, looking at the letter on her lap.
"A letter to my sister, Jane," she answered.
He nodded and remained silent for a while.
"Are you afraid of me?" he finally asked.
The question caught her unprepared. "No," she said, and her voice wavered. She cleared her throat and continued. "No, I know you are a honourable man."
She could feel his penetrating stare, his blue eyes searching hers. "And yet, you are nervous."
"I am nervous,” she admitted.
“I must admit I expected more from the woman who managed to finagle herself into this marriage. Perhaps your mother did not direct you further, madam?"
"No," Elizabeth answered, feeling uncomfortable with the conversation. She had long abandoned convincing him their compromise was not a clever plot on her own part. "She did not."
"Then allow me to enlighten you, madam. There is much more to a marriage than making it to the altar, what occurs between a man and a woman. I believe you understand the basic principles of such unions."
Elizabeth felt her face colour. She would never have thought he would mention the subject so openly , though she knew her shame was silly under the circumstances.
"Do not be shy with your husband. Your marital preparation is incomplete if you do not understand the physical aspects of marriage, though perhaps I should be relieved you are so clearly an innocent,” he haughed wrily. “You have already learned what happens between a man and a woman and now you are about to experience it. The intimacies of the bedroom are not limited to the act itself. There is much more. Do you understand me, madam?"
"Yes," she said, and lowered her gaze, unable to bear the intensity of his stare. In truth, she did not understand his meaning—could he not merely proceed and be done with it all.
"Look at me,” he instructed.
She met his eyes.
"You need not fear this,” his fingers brushed her face. “I will not hurt you, and I will teach you how to find pleasure. I will give you that.”
Elizabeth stared back at him, confused by his words. How could he give her pleasure? Surely there was no pleasure to be found in their marital bed. Perhaps, it would be different were she in love with him but…
"I understand, sir.”
"Good. Now, come here," he said, holding out his hand.
She rose from her seat and walked to him, uncertain what to expect. She had imagined this moment many times, the first time he would take her.
He pulled her close and she felt her heart begin to beat faster. His hands went to her face and cupped it. She felt his warmth. His lips descended upon hers and she gasped as they met. They were soft and insistent and they moved against hers, coaxing them open.
The kiss deepened, and her hands went to his arms to steady herself. She had not expected his kiss, but her body reacted and she felt an unfamiliar feeling of warmth flow through her veins. His tongue slipped into her mouth and her heart hammered in her chest.
She was lost in the sensation, the feel of his tongue stroking hers. Her mind was dazed, and her body began to feel strange. His hands were no longer at her face. They were stroking her neck, her shoulders, and then moving downwards.
He broke the kiss and she opened her eyes, finding him staring at her.
"Let me see you."
The words brought her back to reality. She swallowed--her cheeks were burning. "What?"
"Remove this for me."
His hand moved down her back.
"Is there a problem, Mrs. Darcy?" he said, almost challenging her. “Do you not wish to?”
She looked at him, her heart pounding, her mind confused. She could not undress before him. It was too shocking.
"I... I cannot. Please, I have never..."
“If you insist, I will abide you tonight. I would prefer to see you, though.”
She nodded silently in agreement, figuring that pleasing him was in her own interest. It was dark enough that she could bear it on behalf of her husband.
"Turn around," he said and she turned.
She felt his fingers slip into her shift. She took a deep breath and the material fell. She could feel the cold air hit her skin, her breasts exposed, and her heart was beating so fast she feared it would escape from her chest.
He was quiet for a moment. Then she heard him move and his breath was near her ear.
"Beautiful."
The word was spoken softly, gently, and Elizabeth did not know what to say.
She felt him place his hands on her shoulders, pushing her back onto the bed. The light from her lamp was dim but she could still see his eyes on her, and his gaze sent heat straight to her core. She wondered if he thought her dimly lit form pleasing or whether she was merely a woman. Perhaps if he found her merely tolerable by day, he might still have a preference for her in the night.
"Lie back."
She did as he bid.
"Open your legs for me."
His words startled her. Could she truly lie here before him, so exposed?
She could not do it, could not reveal herself to him in this way. Her face coloured and her stomach twisted.
He must have noticed her reluctance, for he leaned over her. "I am your husband, Elizabeth. Open for me."
She slowly complied and his hand caressed her leg.
"Your skin is very soft," he whispered and the words made her feel warm.
His fingers traveled upwards, his touch feather-light, until they reached her sex. She gasped as he began to stroke her there. His touch was gentle, but the feeling was unfamiliar and strange.
"You are already wet," he said and she could hear the satisfaction in his voice, though she did not fully understand the meaning behind that satisfaction.
Elizabeth closed her eyes. It was too intimate, his touch, and the words. She had to block it out.
His hand slipped inside her and her eyes flew open. She gasped. He was inside her. It felt odd.
"Relax," he whispered and stroked her inside.
She did her best, but the sensation was uncomfortable. She had not thought pleasure could be overwhelming.
His mouth found hers, and his tongue slipped inside her mouth, distracting her from his invasion of her body.
Elizabeth did her best to kiss him back, but it was not easy. He was kissing her hard and deep and his tongue was stroking hers, and his fingers were still inside her, his thumb brushing over her most sensitive spot.
It was not the maritial intimacy she had imagined, when she apprehensively thought of this night before the wedding. She had expected a brief, uncomfortable, and unpleasant interlude. Not this. She expected the deed to be done with quickly, even if he required access to her each night. Part of her wondered how she would survive such intense, strange intimacies every night.
Suddenly, his finger slid out and he broke the kiss.
"What is happening?" she whispered, unable to keep her anxiety at bay.
"Shhh," he replied and his finger began to rub her most sensitive spot with fervor. There was that strange sort of pleasure as he touched her, but she found herself horrified by the thought of Mr. Darcy bringing it to fruition. This was not a pleasure she looked forward to sharing with him.
Elizabeth did her best to relax, but the feeling was foreign, and her body did not seem to cooperate.
“I would prefer to be beneath the covers. It is cold," she whispered, and he nodded, removing his hand.
She moved on the bed, her mind reeling from what had just transpired. He removed his clothes, and she averted her eyes, but not before catching a glimpse of him, standing naked and aroused before her. She had never seen a man, and the sight was both intriguing and shocking.
Her husband climbed into bed and pulled the covers over them.
She felt his hand touch her breast again, cupping it, stroking it. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on his touch, and not on the fact that he was soon to enter her body.
"Please," she whispered, unsure of what she was asking him.
He shifted his body and then she felt the weight of him on her. His member pressed against her and she held her breath.
She could feel the tip of him touching her opening, and she waited for the intrusion, her mind reeling.
There was a sharp pain, and she cried out.
He stilled and then, he was inside her.
Her eyes were tightly shut and she took a few deep breaths, trying to accustom herself to his presence. It was a strange sensation, feeling him there, and it was uncomfortable.
She felt him lean in and then his lips were on hers, and his tongue slipped inside her mouth, caressing hers.
She did not kiss him back, her mind overwhelmed, her body tense.
"Open your legs wider," he murmured, and she did, and then he began to move.
She had not expected him to move so soon, and his action startled her.
“Let me please you," he said and his hand moved between their bodies.
Elizabeth was distracted from the intrusion of his member by his fingers as they began to stroke her.
She moaned, and the sound surprised her. His fingers felt good, and she began to relax, letting him stroke her, and move inside her.
He moved slowly, and her body began to loosen and her mind began to lose itself in the sensation. Perhaps there would be some comforts in this marriage. Her mind wandered, and her body began to move with him, seeking her own pleasure.
He quickened his movements and she felt something inside her stir.
The sensation was strange, and yet, her body was responding fully. The tightness washed over her, her toes curling, and she could feel her body pulsing around him, the waves washing over her.
His hand gripped her hips, and he groaned, and she could feel him stiffen, his seed spilling inside her. It was a hot, wet sensation.
He was breathing heavily, and she felt him collapse on top of her, his member still inside her.
She lay there, waiting, wondering what would happen next.
She could not understand her feelings. It was not so terrible, as she had imagined. And her husband had seemed pleased.
He shifted, his body leaving hers, and then he lay beside her. Suddenly, he rolled off of her and stood to retrieve his shift. “Perhaps you will have one use to me, madam."
The words stung, and Elizabeth could feel the tears forming.
"Good night, Mrs. Darcy," he said, and the door closed behind him.
Elizabeth stared at the ceiling, willing herself not to cry. She had thought it would not be so terrible, and it had not been. But his words had left her with a bitter taste. Whatever his inclination towards her in bed, he was still hateful towards her.
***
She did not see him again until before dinner, when he interrupted her embroidering with a question. It was strange to meet his eyes, knowing what had transpired between them. She wondered how he would treat her now. Would he be more solicitous of her or would he continue to ignore her, his wife?
"Are you well this evening, madam?"
"Yes," Elizabeth replied, startled by the question. He had not sought after her health all day. Why would he inquire about her now, was it only to see if she was able to allow him his rights again?
"Did you rest well?"
"Yes."
He nodded. "Good. Shall we go down for dinner?"
"I suppose we should," she replied and put down her needlework, rising.
They went down, and his conversation was limited, but there was a difference from before. He would look at her, his eyes assessing her. She felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny, though she supposed she should be grateful for his interest. Perhaps the act of the marriage bed had softened his attitude towards her.
They had not touched the topic of their marriage, not since last night. It was an unspoken matter, and she was unsure of what to say to him. She would have to accept the situation and make the best of it, for there was no other alternative.
The evening dragged on, and finally, it was time for her to retire. "Mr. Darcy," she said and rose.
"Yes?"
"I will retire now."
"Goodnight, Mrs. Darcy," he replied and resumed his book.
She slept alone that night.
***
He asked her to accompany him on a walk the next morning, and she was happy to oblige him, the need for exercise and fresh air overpowering the awkwardness of being in his presence. They strolled in silence through the woods, the sun shining through the trees, the leaves rustling in the breeze.
"How are you, Elizabeth?"
The question surprised her. He had barely used her Christian name before, not in private, nor in public.
"I am well, thank you, sir," she replied.
"Have you recovered from the other night?"
"Yes, sir," she answered.
"Good. I would not want to find you distressed. I will give you a few days reprieve before we share a bed again. I hope that is agreeable."
She did not know how to respond to him, his words were not spoken with affection, but his tone was not cold, not angry.
"Is that not acceptable, madam?"
She decided to be bold with him. “I am willing to comply with your wishes, Mr. Darcy. You may have me tonight or in a few days, it matters not to me. As my husband, I know it is your right."
He looked at her, his expression inscrutable.
"You are correct, Mrs. Darcy. As your husband, it is my right. Do you have any thoughts on the matter?”
"What thoughts do you expect me to have?” she asked, her tone challenging.
"I would not presume to understand your thoughts, madam."
"Well, you may. You are my husband. You may model me after your whims, get whatever use you want out of me.”
His eyes flashed and his jaw clenched.
"I see that you are determined to make any sensible discussion difficult,” he scoffed, then shook his head. “I must admit I expected you to oblige me more, given this marriage is of your own design.”
Elizabeth had had enough of his accusations. She would not be blamed for this, and she was unwilling to bear it, not after her mother had warned her against making him unhappy.
"Of my own design? Sir, if I had designed it, I would have chosen someone whom I did not wholeheartedly despise. I assure you, if I contrived anything, you would be the last man I would choose to marry.”
She could not believe the words had escaped her lips, and from the look on his face, neither could he. She suspected, for the first time, he saw the truth of her own innocence in the compromise that led to their marriage.
He turned and walked away, and she followed him, unwilling to be left behind. They did not speak, and she did not know if the walk was at an end.
After several minutes, he spoke.
“We will both be unhappy together, then, Mrs. Darcy," he turned away from her. "But I will not trouble you tonight.”
***
She slept alone for several nights, her days spent alone apart from dinner, which was silent and uncomfortable. She knew she could not carry on like this forever. Her only hope was for him to become accustomed to her, or perhaps find some value in her. She did not know how she could bring about either outcome, however.
If she had been an apt seductress as he had once suspected her of being, she would have used her womanly wiles to bring her husband to her bed. But she did not possess any such abilities, and she had no idea how to proceed. She decided to try conversation, desperate for any comfort or companionship she could forge with him.
One evening, she entered the sitting room and saw him sitting by the fire, reading.
"Good evening, Mr. Darcy," she said, and he looked up.
"Mrs. Darcy," he replied, his voice cold.
She sat on the settee across from him and picked up her needlework.
"I wonder, sir, whether you have heard from your sister? Have you received a letter from her?"
He stared at her, his brow furrowed, his eyes dark. "Why do you ask me about my sister?"
"I am merely trying to engage you in conversation," she explained, her cheeks colouring.
"Well enough, then, madam, though I wonder why you would care to know about my family."
"I was merely curious," she explained, feeling flustered. Would he rebuff her forever? See her as merely an enemy invader in his home…
"And what is it that you would like to know, madam?"
"Has she been well?"
"Georgiana is fine," he replied curtly.
Elizabeth decided to change the subject. "Are you fond of poetry, Mr. Darcy? Do you like to read poetry?"
"Poetry is not my area of expertise," he said and returned his attention to his book.
Elizabeth sighed. Perhaps a different topic would engage him. "The weather is pleasant, is it not, sir? Though, it will soon be winter."
"Yes, it is," he agreed, clearly dismissive of her second, more desperate attempt at conversation.
She paused, not sure what to say next.
"Do you have any particular plans for the season, sir?"
He raised his eyebrows and gave her a questioning look. “What is all this about?”
"I am simply trying to have some knowledge of the man I married," she explained.
"Why?"
"Because I would like to," she retorted, frustrated by his question.
"No, you would not," he replied and returned his attention to his book. “You have made that perfectly clear to me, Mrs. Darcy.”
"As have you, sir. You would rather sit in silence than have a conversation with me?" she asked, her tone incredulous.
"Yes."
She picked up her needlework, determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
The silence between them was tense and awkward.
She tried to focus on her needlework, but it was not easy. His presence was distracting, and she could not seem to stop thinking about how to provoke him in return.
“I want a child,” she said.
"What?"
"I want a child," she repeated. “I want to have your child.”
"Mrs. Darcy, I assure you, if a child were to be conceived in our marriage, it would certainly be mine. Now, please, cease your prattling and allow me to enjoy the rest of my evening."
She was silent for a moment. Then she said, "Do you not wish for a child?"
He was silent.
"I assume you do. After all, you need an heir, do you not? Is that another use you might have for a wife."
"Why do you insist on discussing this subject? I would prefer to forget our situation, madam."
"Well, it is hardly a situation you can forget, Mr. Darcy," she reminded him.
He closed his book and looked at her.
"You have made your point, Mrs. Darcy. I will visit you tonight.”
"Thank you, sir," she said and resumed her needlework.
Her heart was racing.
She could not believe she had done that, spoken to him like that, provoking him in such a manner. Perhaps, it was a newfound courage or her fear was no longer as powerful as her anger. Or, perhaps, she had gone mad.
Either way, her husband would be visiting her bed again tonight, and she was not sure whether she would welcome his presence or not.
***
The rest of the evening passed by slowly, and Elizabeth was anxious, wondering how Mr. Darcy would act once he came to her room. She did not know what to expect, if he would be angry or cold, if he would touch her, or just perform the deed as she had thought he would that first time.
When the time came, she went upstairs and prepared herself for bed. She could feel her heart beating fast as she waited for him. She lay in bed, trying to calm herself, her nerves on edge.
She did not know what to think, or how she should behave. She did not know if she should lie there, unmoving, or if she should respond to his caresses. She did not know if her words had angered him or if he would still touch her, or if he would simply come and get what he wanted.
She waited, and the minutes seemed to stretch on, the anticipation killing her.
Suddenly, the door opened, and her husband appeared.
He did not say a word, but he approached her and climbed into bed, his body close to hers.
"You wish to have a child," he said.
"Yes," she answered, and her voice trembled.
"Then, we should start."
He reached for her and pulled her even closer. His hand moved down her body and slipped beneath her nightgown, sliding up her thigh.
"Spread your legs for me," he whispered.
She did as he commanded, and his fingers found her core. He began to stroke her, and her breath hitched, the feeling familiar, though the touch was different, and his voice was softer, almost soothing.
"Are you ready for me?" he asked, his breath hot on her neck.
She responded affirmatively, though her words came out a little bit strangled.
"Good," he replied, and then his fingers were gone.
He moved, positioning himself between her legs, and she felt him press against her entrance.
He pushed inside her and she gasped. It did not hurt, not the way it had the first time, and he slid into her easily, her body opening for him. He was quieter this time, and she did not know if it was better or worse. His breathing was ragged, and she could feel him inside her, filling her.
"Elizabeth," he slurred against her neck, and the word sent shivers down her spine.
He began to move, and his movements were slow and deep. Her body responded, and she found herself moving with him, matching his rhythm, her hands gripping the sheets.
He groaned, and the sound made her tremble, and she could feel the tension building, her body beginning to tighten. She felt her climax approaching, the waves washing over her, and she arched her back, her hips rising, his name on her lips.
He grunted, and she could feel him tense, his seed spilling inside her, his body shuddering once again.He stayed inside her for some time afterwards, and she could feel the weight of him on top of her, his breath hot on her skin.
He was silent, and so was she, her mind a jumble of thoughts, her body tingling. Finally, he slipped out of her and spoke, his body still draped on top of her.
“Forgive me for being so uncivil to you. You are my wife, and I should have treated you as such. I will endeavour to behave better."
He rolled off her and onto his side.
"Goodnight, Elizabeth."
"Goodnight, Mr. Darcy," she replied, her voice barely a whisper.
She could not believe it. He had been civil, almost tender. And he had called her Elizabeth. It was a change, and it had been unexpected, but she welcomed it. Perhaps they would find some peace in their marriage.