Sharon Lathan - Mr. & Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy: Two Shall Become One

The applause was sincere and lengthy. Darcy bowed and then turned to his cousin. “Richard, one more with your assistance.” Colonel Fitzwilliam took his place at the cello and smiled at the sheets placed before him by Darcy. Georgiana indicated she was ready and they launched into a sterling rendition of “Ode to Joy” by Beethoven, eminently apropos for the season.

Georgiana’s skill and stamina were put to the test this night. The impromptu concert led to a swell of hidden talents brought to light as the guests’ boldness and merriment increased. Lizzy and Mrs. Lathrop lifted their voices, as did Mr. Gardiner, who revealed a pleasing tenor. Mr. Lathrop chimed in on occasion with an unexpectedly deep bass belied by his soft speaking voice. The crown of the evening was Mrs. Lathrop raising her beautiful Scottish alto a cappella for three folk ballads: “I Once Loved a Lass,” “Mary Queen of Scots’ Lament,” and “Blow the Candle Out.”

Lizzy sat at her vanity, Marguerite having been dismissed, absently brushing her hair as she smilingly recalled the evening’s events. There seemed no doubt all had enjoyed themselves, and therefore the night could only be credited as a resounding success.

Lost in her reverie, Elizabeth did not notice her spouse’s entrance until he gently took the brush from her hand and assumed the task. She smiled brightly at his reflection in the mirror. He loved to brush her hair, so his usurping was rapidly becoming a sort of ritual. Lizzy closed her eyes and sighed with contentment.

“It was a successful evening, wouldn’t you agree, William?”

“Unquestionably. Our guests were well fed and marvelously entertained. I harbored no doubts whatsoever that the Mistress of Pemberley would triumph admirably.”

“Thank you, love, however, I deem that a greater portion of the acclamation should go to Mrs. Reynolds and the rest of Pemberley’s outstanding staff. And no small amount of praise to you, dear husband.”

“I? Elizabeth, I did nothing but attend and partake.”

“Nonsense. You were a gracious host and stunned us all by your performance on the violin.” She looked at him then via the mirror with a playful lift of her lips. “You misrepresented the truth, dear husband. With only one brandy consumed you dazzled us with your skill. I was amazed and delighted, despite your previous assertions to the contrary!”

Darcy blushed and remained silent. Lizzy’s smile broadened. “So tell me about the one time at Cambridge and what influences were necessary.”

Darcy winced and then briskly put down the brush, patted his wife’s shoulder, and seriously pronounced it was time for bed, becoming all ‘Master of Pemberley’ as Lizzy called it, as he strode solemnly from the room. Lizzy laughed gaily and chased him, cornering him by the fire. He valiantly attempted to dissuade her, but between tickling and pretend pouting, she finally forced him to capitulate and sink onto the edge of the bed.

Passing a hand over his face, he mumbled, “Perhaps when I am in my dotage, I will live this down.” He glared at his grinning wife, “You really want to hear this?” She nodded and he groaned.

“During my years at University, there were only three times I… overly indulged, shall we say. The last was one month prior to the end of my stay. Some thirty of the lads threw a farewell party of sorts for me, Lathrop, and a few other gents who were finishing as well. Sometime toward the wee hours of the morning, when we were all far into our cups, someone, I do not know whom, which is just as well as I probably later would have murdered him, brilliantly decided that music was in order. Instruments of all sorts materialized from Lord knows where. I think I was the only one present at the time who had some musical talent, although it aided me naught in the state I was in.”

He paused and groaned again, putting his face in his hands. “We thought we were marvelous and played for hours, so the story goes. Frankly, few of us remember any of it.” He started laughing into his hands. “So stellar we credited our abilities that serenading the entire compound seemed a good plan, so we took our genius to the streets. The Dean dubbed us the ‘Squealing Pig Orchestra’ and immortalized us by creating a plaque with all our names on it. To this day it hangs in the Hall of Records and probably will long after I am dead.”

Lizzy was laughing so hard she was breathless. Darcy grabbed her and tossed her onto the bed. “You owe me now, Mrs. Darcy, and you shall pay.”

He tickled her mercilessly, head to toe, revealing sensitive zones she hadn’t known existed. Arousal was guaranteed and abundantly welcomed. Darcy’s arousal, in fact, and Lizzy’s assistance in heightening his state were the incentives necessary to cease his tickling torture. The playful mood reigned as they nibbled with titillating bites, stimulated with romantic pinches and squeezes, and beguiled with amorous kisses.

Each day their lovemaking changed, evolving to new heights of delight as they learned more about their own bodies’ responses and how to control their passions. Darcy, as the leader in most instances, had discovered a stamina and mastery he would not have thought achievable a month ago. On occasion their ardor overwhelmed them and they willingly and gleefully relented to their consuming need. However, usually they desired to prolong the act, reveling in the intoxication of a protracted interlude as their urges amplified leisurely. The resulting release was not necessarily superior, but their unions always intense and gratifying, and the steady nature of an unhurried pace led to a fulfillment as prolonged and languid as the journey itself.

Such it was tonight. Their afternoon assignation had so tremendously satisfied them that now there was none of the previous urgency. Their passion built gradually, their desire tender and nurturing, and their devotion, reverence, and faithfulness overruling their lust. Caressing ceaselessly and kissing temperately, they reached a release that was extended and joyous, flowing over them in soft, soothing waves, and leaving them trembling and awash in profound emotions of serenity and belonging and security.

They nestled close, gripped by their love and happiness. Lizzy kissed Darcy’s chest just as she drifted into sleep and he tightened his arms about her, kissing her head and smiling with contentment. “I love you, Elizabeth,” he murmured as sleep claimed him. 

As the long years unfolded, the Darcys would experience a multitude of Christmases at Pemberley. Some would be intimate family affairs, and on other occasions the manor would be overflowing. In time, their children and the children of relatives would exponentially boost the festivities. The traditional Darcy feast for the tenants would resume and occur annually for decades. The Darcy heirlooms would proudly regain their historic locales, along with the candles and greenery and ribbons eventually further augmented by the Christmas tree. The vast majority of the holidays would be joyous gatherings with delightful memories, such as the year Lizzy’s birth sac burst while kissing her husband under the kissing bough on Christmas Eve and the year their eldest daughter became betrothed during the Cole’s Masque. Thankfully the somber years were infrequent, the saddest being the first season after Mr. Bennet passed, although it would also mark the only time all the Bennet sisters managed to gather at the same time.

In truth, this particular Christmas would not necessarily be counted preeminent, yet through the blissful years of their life together, Lizzy and Darcy would agree that it held a very special place in their hearts. The reason was simple: it was their first.

Christmas Eve dawned cold with ominous dark clouds threatening despite having dropped fresh snow in the night. All the guests were slow to rise, preferring to stay snuggled under warm blankets. As there were no particular plans for the morning hours, it mattered not. The Darcys, as host and hostess, strove to attend to their duties and so departed their chambers far earlier than they wished or had grown accustomed to. Darcy held Lizzy’s hand in the crook of his arm as they walked.

Abruptly Darcy stopped, causing Lizzy to collide with him, but prior to her uttering a sound, he propelled her backwards into an empty side corridor.

“What…” she began but he shushed her with a hiss and a finger to her lips.