Yet… yet… yet…
She had experienced pleasure, desire, and a brief loss of her never ending awareness of herself; as they joined, she had felt a sensation that pointed to something beyond ordinary and daily life. She wanted to feel that again.
She was not surprised. She had expected to enjoy the joining, despite the warnings from her mother and aunt that there would be pain, and that often it was difficult.
Darcy’s kiss at the ball also had a great deal of something pleasant in it.
He clearly only lost his self-control sufficiently to kiss her because he was deep in his cups. She had not stopped him because she too had drunk considerably more that night than her usual quantity.
Why had they never told her how exquisite the taste of a man could be? Maybe she would have known to flee then. Or maybe she would have thrown herself at a man earlier.
The experience of pleasure was not worth it. She had ruined her life, and in exchange for a moment’s delight she had been forced to marry an arrogant and uncaring man who thought profoundly ill of her. Her father now despised her — andElizabeth in turn perhaps despised her formerly beloved father.
Elizabeth focused her mind on Darcy’s breath, on the strange sensations in her loins, the weight of his head on her chest, and the warmth from his body.
She did not want to think again about how Papa had attacked her instead of helping her in the most serious crisis of her life. She did not want to think about shouting at him that she had not forced Darcy to marry her so that she could wear pretty clothes, and that she would never spend more than fifty pounds a year on clothes.
Of course it had only been a crisis forElizabeth. As her mother ecstatically exclaimed, again and again, it was a great boon for the family. Justthinkabout all the other rich men that Jane and Lizzy would be able to throw their sisters at.
Darcy’s breathing was slow and comfortable. He did not try to make her answer the impossible question of “what was she thinking” again. He seemed relaxed, perhaps happy.
Anxiety for Jane.
Jane, poor Jane.
Mr. Bingley had overheard what Mama had said upon finding her kissing Mr. Darcy. Maybe that was why he had left Netherfield with his family the day after the ball. In fact, he’d departed for London while Darcy called on Papa at London to offer his hand to Elizabeth.
Miss Bingley had sent a letter with Darcy explaining that they had all decided to return to London. It was a letter filled with ill-concealed anger at how Elizabeth had succeeded in Miss Bingley’s quest.
All hope for Jane was gone after this morning.
Bingley returned to the neighborhood to stand beside Darcy at his wedding. And he barely looked at Jane standing across from him. He had not spoken a single word to her, not even when she spoke to him. But it was evident that being nearher caused him pain. He had, though, spoken once to Mama, “Madam, I congratulate you on finding such a rich man for your daughter, and I wish you the best of luck in settling your other children on such unwilling partners.”
Darcy must have said enough to Bingley for his friend to know that he considered himself to have been trapped into the marriage. He must have said enough to convince Bingley that they were all fortune hunters.
The anger was coming back. And with it an urge to shove him out of her bed.
Mr. Darcy was just like Papa. Both of them were convinced that she was the worst sort of mercenary woman.
Lord!Whenwas he going to leave?
His head on her chest was heavy, and she was trapped.
Just go. I don’t want you to be here.
She could never escape the weight of “Darcy”. No matter what happened in the future, she always was “Mrs. Darcy”.
So much for her grand determination to only marry for a strong and decided love. Instead, she had married to avoid a strong and decided social disapproval. She’d known it was a mistake as she’d said, “I shall.”
She’d known. She’d known.
But she hadn’t been able to stop herself from saying the words that condemned her to this life, and to having this damned head crushing the breath out of her forever and ever.
If she’d screamed, “No, I shall not!” it would have ruined the lives of her sisters. Maybe if Mr. Bingley had shown that he was still attached to Jane, she would have been brave enough to do it.
He rocked his head back and forth, the light stubble on his jaw rubbing against her sensitive chest.
Mama had promised that her husband would absent himself after he was done, so that he might sleep better. Mrs.Gardiner had suggested that her husband may wish to stay with her afterwards.
