“You do me proud, Sergeant. The governor’s carriage was drawn by only one horse; with two animals, we outrank him—but let us away.”
Her heart beat so loudly that the sound of it echoed off the buildings lining the Market Square. No place for regret or second thoughts. Breathing with short, deep breaths, she calmed herself.
The journey was particularly short, but the girls begged her to arrive with her gown unsullied by dust from the road. She stepped down, and Harshita arranged her demi train which would lie behind rather than being held up by her hand. The time had come—she,Lizzie Bennet, in a few short minutes,Lizzie Darcy!
She entered the church; her eyes widened. She felt disoriented, giddy. The congregation filled the nave: the hundred girls from the orphanage, perhaps twice that number of soldiers and wives of the 73rd, together with merchants and settlers seated in the front pews. All therein turned their eyes to her as she passed through the doors. Elizabeth walked hesitantly down the aisle, holding tightly onto Sgt. Monogan’s arm, Harshita walking behind her. Standing at the far end of the nave, she saw William—oh, his waistcoat is azure blue!—next to him stood Governor Macquarie, and to the side stood Mrs. Macquarie. She panicked:do I curtsey? No! This ismyday. I shall hold up my head, merely nod out of respect, and then… then William will come to stand by my side, and I’ll be safe. Elizabeth recognised many of the wives: Mrs. Pitcairn—birthed a lively boy; Mrs. Jordon—a girl… She smiled, and the women of the regiment returned her smile manyfold.
Relieved were Elizabeth’s feelings when the ceremony ended, with William’s gold band upon her finger and the registry signed, witnessed by the Macquaries. She could scarcely recall any of it. Taking William’s arm, she returned to the entrance to the church, stepped outside, and…
A mighty cheer rose up from the crowd that had gathered in the square. They were showered with daisy petals of all colours and the husbands of the regimental wives raised their muskets in salute.
“Oh, William, is this all for us? But why?”
“My sweet Lizzie, how can you not know—they admire you, my dear, they holdyouin the highest esteem.”
The Great Hall of the orphanage was filled with merriment and gleeful children. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy sat at the High Table, attended by the Governor and Mrs. Macquarie, until the latter returned to Government House just before sunset. The foodeaten, the celebration was over: the orphanage could not afford the cost of candles to light the Hall when night fell. All was cleared away—tomorrow the girls would clean, scrub floors, wash dishes in the scullery. That evening they returned to their dormitories. Under the covers, whispering amongst themselves, they agreed that Matron was the loveliest bride, that her gown was beautiful, and that the feast was their most favourite part of the day.
***
Elizabeth stood before the long mirror in the bedchamber. All was strange to her—the room, the large double bed, the furniture. The house belonged to Mr. Thompson; and, following Mr. and Mrs. Bent’s departure, she and William were to live here until their villa was completed. She examined her figure: was herderrieretoo small, her bosom overly large?—she knew nothing of what men desired. Dear Mama, where are you? How I wish for your counsel!
There is thatmewho speaks with women of their coupling with men—but thismeis innocent of such carnal experience. I know not how. Her mouth was dry; anxiety threatened to overwhelm her. Enough! She lay down on the bed and pulled up the covers. Looking to one side, sufficient light filtered through the window glass to enable her to observe, reflected in the mirror, the panelled door to the chamber.
She half expected Manfred fromThe Castle of Otrantoto enter the room: of dark complexion, of powerful physique, in possession of piercing eyes, intent on violating her. The door opened. She gasped, squeezing her eyes shut.
“My dearest Lizzie, it’s your husband, William. Don’t be afraid.”
“Oh, William, my imagination runs wild in this unfamiliar room—I’ve read too many gothic novels with dark villains andtoo few with handsome heroes.”
Through the mirror she saw he wore a silk banyan, tied loosely at the waist. Letting it fall, he stood for a moment, then joined her in the bed. The shadows were dark but light enough to illuminate his manhood, surrounded by the black hair of his crotch. Oh my, canthatpossibly join with me? But she felt an arousal, a libidinal excitement that caused an ache deep within her.
She quivered as he lay behind her; the scent of sandalwood and amber lingered in the air. “Your chemise, we’ve no need of it.” She sat, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, struggling to lift the garment over her head.
“You’ve a beautiful back.” Elizabeth trembled as William traced his hand gently across her shoulders. He kissed her neck, moving his lips to her ear. Never before had she felt such diversion. His hands clasped her waist. Without understanding, she moved her head backwards to secure more of his lips against her skin. His hands moved upwards, cupping her swelling breasts, his fingers seeking her taut nipples.
She was already lost; a sensation of profound delight rippled through her. Nothing—nothing—could diminish the exultation that engulfed her. One hand, removed from her breast, sought her thigh, travelled down her leg.
“Oh, dear Lizzie, you’ve forgot to remove your stockings.”
As William rolled the stockings down her calves, slipping them deftly off her ankles, she knew of no greater intimacy. She lay back on the bed, uncovered.
“My dearest, sweetest Lizzie.” William covered her lips with his, his body straddling her. His hand sought her breast, then moved lower—paused to stroke the downy softness of her abdomen; descending further, his fingers came to rest on her velvet, bushy hair.
Elizabeth had explored her own body. The women she counselled spoke of pleasuring their men and also themselves.Clearly, William had known women. He gently massaged her; her back arched, a groan of pleasure escaping her lips. Her mouth sought his, his tongue found hers—this is but heaven; it could go on forever. As though this bliss was not enough, William moved to completely cover her; she guided his manhood to join her body with his. She felt a momentary discomfort—eclipsed by the ecstasy, the immediacy of his entering her, his invading her welcoming body—followed by a wondrous fullness as he penetrated deep within her. They lay thus, their bodies united, moving together—a dance of such overpowering rapture she wished it would never end.
Then an urgency. “William!" She pulled him closer, ifthatwere possible.
The release was overwhelming; stunned, she lay back upon the sheets. A moment later, William climaxed within her. He kissed her—gentle, loving. He lay within her, his lips tenderly kissing her face.
My Lizzie! You are so beautiful. Are you mine, or am I yours? I care not. She smiled, her eyes looking to him in wonder. As he watched, this darling woman fell asleep beneath him. Darcy rolled to the side, and Elizabeth snuggled close to his warm body, safe in his embrace.
Elizabeth awoke to the early sun shining through the window. Her mind was counting the number of words for ecstasy in each of the languages she knew: exstasis, êxtase, extasi, ekstase. Oh, there are too few!
Her eyes opened. Mr. Darcy—William—lay next to her.Quelle joie!
He stirred, rolled over to gaze upon her. “My Lizzie, you’re awake. How did you sleep?”
“I slept very well indeed.” A smile creased her lips. “I find I’m not fatigued in the slightest; though ‘tis a state I would enjoy, were itto overcome me.”
