Her Voice of Reason

  Her Voice of Reason

  by Ola Wegner

  Copyright © 2015 Ola Wegner

  Table of Content

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Darcy stood at the door to the master bedroom at his London townhouse. On the other side of the solid wood there was his wife waiting for him to come to her.

  When he had thought about this evening, about his wedding night, he had always imagined it to take place at Pemberley. Patience was one of his virtues, but in this case it was severely tested. They were in London for several days to complete Elizabeth’s wardrobe before their journey to Pemberley. Darcy had no intention to wait for days before making love to his wife.

  He desired her. That overpowering need for her had finally convinced him to offer himself to a woman who was indeed beneath him.

  He knocked and instantly walked in, not waiting to be permitted. At dinner Elizabeth had said that she would need about an hour to prepare. It had been an hour and ten minutes.

  She was sitting at the vanity, her hair braided, dressed in the nightclothes which surprisingly were far from revealing and covered much more of her than he expected. He thought that she would have put on more risqué of an attire. It did not matter, though. Soon enough she would be without it.

  She stood up as soon as she saw him. Her smile did not reach her eyes. He was not a fool. He knew that her ardour did not match his. Not yet, at the very least. She had not anticipated his proposal. He could not blame her. After all, men like him rarely wed so much below their station. She was an intelligent creature, well aware of her position in the world. He was selfish to have her, but he had no regrets. Not anymore. His entire life was devoted to his family and duty, striving to be the son his parents wanted, working hard to preserve Pemberley, raising Georgiana. Now he had married a woman he loved, which ended his loneliness. Her intelligence, loveliness, goodness and high spirits would fill his life with new meaning and joy. He had chosen well. She would make him happy and bear him fine children.

  The last six weeks had been a torture. Purposely he kept his distance from his “dearest and loveliest Elizabeth,” as he liked to call her in his thoughts. He could barely stand the Bennets, their company, their loudness and crass customs. He knew that Elizabeth loved them, especially her father and elder sister, but her place was now with him.

  He understood why she cried in the carriage when they left Longbourn. He tried his best to comfort her as well as keep his hands to himself during their journey to London. He was a gentleman. She required some time to adjust to the new life by his side.

  Now, as he approached her, he could see her apprehension but also some indignation and pride. Those were the spirit and passion in her to which he had been drawn like a moth to a flame from the earliest moments of their acquaintance. For his own good he needed to introduce her gently into intimate relations. He wished her to be willing and not to fear him.

  Leaning down, he kissed her gently, whispering how lovely she was and that he loved her. She stood trembling and distant, her wide eyes searching his face. He reached for her braid, loosening the ribbon at the end of it. He wished her beautiful hair to flow around her shoulders, spilling down her back and breasts.

  His desire was to disrobe her right here in front of the fireplace to see the goods, but after a moment of consideration he rejected the idea. It was not the right time for it. There would be many times in the future to examine his wife in detail and hopefully in daylight.

  “Shall we lay down?” he asked, keeping his tone light and gentle.

  She nodded, almost running to bed. Standing at the foot of the bed, she removed her robe and slippers, then only in her nightgown climbed under the covers, covering herself up to her neck.

  Darcy put down the candles but added generously to the fireplace. He wished to see her; pitch-dark was not what he had in mind.

  Standing by the bed, he disposed of his own robe. Before he could join her he had to remove the cat from the pillow. The animal was a very unexpected addition which came along with his wife. As they had been driving away from Longbourn and Elizabeth was shedding tears while waving at her family, a striped cat with long fur jumped on his lap. Darcy was about to throw it out of the window, but his wife protested violently against it. She began hugging and kissing it, calling it Jo. She explained that Jo had been found by the Bennet sisters on one of their walks as a kitten abandoned and almost starved to death. Darcy had tried to suggest that her sisters would surely miss their pet. However, Elizabeth vehemently denied such a possibility, explaining that the cat had belonged to Jane more than anyone, and that surely her elder sister would not mind separating with it.

  The black and orange cat, named Jo, looked not only fat but also rather unappealing due to the fact that it had only one good eye. It was allowed to stay because Darcy was not ready to refuse his wife’s pleading face. Despite perfect indifference mixed with annoyance which he felt towards the animal, Darcy was happy to grant her wish. Until then she had never asked anything of him. Nevertheless, he was not ready to share his bed with the creature.

  “The cat should go to the kitchen for the night,” he suggested, but seeing that Elizabeth was not supportive of the idea, he added, “he will be warm there.”

  “Jo sleeps in the bedroom usually with Jane, and when she is gone then with me.”

  “The cat will not sleep in bed with us.”

  “But he may stay in the room with us,” she suggested.

  Darcy looked at the ugly creature sitting at his feet, clearly waiting to be invited back. It was not the right moment to argue about this matter. In the future he would make sure to keep it in the servants’ quarters and out of sight.

  He climbed on the bed and removed his shirt, throwing it away, incidentally covering Jo with it as it landed on the carpet. Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the sight of his bare chest, but she said nothing, nor did she try to touch him.

  He thought about talking to her for a while in order to relax her, but he could hardly think about a good topic to discuss. Small talk was not his strong suit. The only thing that came into his mind worth discussing was Mrs. Bennet’s outfit. It was outrageous with all the feathers piled up on her head, but he doubted that his wife would appreciate laughing at her mother’s expense on her wedding night.

  He decided that instead of talking he should start acting. Slowly he moved closer to her, so their sides were touching. Then, supported on his elbow, he leaned down, burying his face into her sweet-smelling neck. He kissed her there for a long time while his hand ran up and down her arm in a slow motion. When she put her hand on his shoulder, clearly responding to his caresses, he decided to take matters further along.

  Before he could do it he heard meowing. He ignored it, his fingers busy with opening the small buttons on the front of her nightgown. There were exactly fifteen of them. Why did Elizabeth think that it would be a sound idea to put on such an elaborate item of clothing when it was destined to be removed?

  Suddenly, he felt a considerable weight upon his shoulder blades. Jo seated itself on his back. That was quite enough. He disentangled himself from the covers and his wife’s shy embrace, picked up the malic
ious creature, then marched through the room to put it behind the door.

  Elizabeth began to protest that Jo did not know the house, but Darcy silenced her with a kiss. While their mouths were engaged, he pushed the material of her gown aside. He looked down. He had always guessed that she was lovely in that respect, but his imagination failed in comparison to what was in front of his eyes. Bending his head down, he kissed the upper half of her right breast, before cupping it with his hand. It was warm and supple. He traced the tip with his tongue, observing with pleasure and pride how it hardened and elongated, the wide aureoles changing colour from light pink to a rosy colour.

  Looking up, he saw that her eyes were shut tight, and that she was biting on her lower lip. So far he was successful in his endeavour, he praised himself. Again he went to kiss her neck, but this time he moved over her instead of staying by her side. He was careful not to give her any of his weight, not yet. Her legs were laying flat on the bed, and that would not do. Reaching under the covers, he traced down her thigh, knee and calf, all covered by the long nightgown, to grasp at her foot, tickling her delicate insole. She laughed, trying to free her foot. He stroked her little toes, making her shake her leg and in the process opening herself to him. Letting go of her foot, he quickly settled between her legs.

  Now he was much closer to his aim, but not quite there. The thin barrier of white cotton was still between them. He returned to kissing and caressing her bosom, at the same time pushing himself against her, rubbing his manhood against her womanhood. Her legs were bent up and he helped her to arrange them against his sides.

  She was not pushing him away but at the same time she was not encouraging his actions. Her small hands were settled cautiously on his shoulders, refusing to touch anywhere else.

  Moving his weight on one arm, he rose above her, his free hand pulling at her nightgown, bringing it to her waist. She stilled, closed her eyes, and turned her head away from him. He was not discouraged. His mouth found a warm spot on her neck while his fingers found a much warmer softness between her legs. His thumb circled the small opening which was of most interest to him.

  Her eyes were shut tight again and she was trembling. He knew that it was not pleasure but fear of the unknown. He concentrated on finding the hard nub, pressing on it gently. Slowly the dryness was replaced with moisture. At last she rose against his hand and shuddered and moaned, her eyes meeting his for a moment before she closed them again.

  Pleased with himself, he quickly kissed his way down her body, pushing away all the covers to have better access but also the view of her. With his lips he caressed her flat stomach, then the side of her hip. He pushed her leg aside to kiss the inside of her thigh. She did not protest, her arm thrown over her face. He was rather surprised how very thin she was. She must have lost at least six pounds or even more in the last two months. Her hip was curvy and her bosom full, but he could see bones sticking through her skin, her ribs especially. He knew that tall and thin silhouettes were in fashion among ladies of the ton, and he could suspect that Mrs. Bennet tried to shape her daughter into one in the weeks before the wedding. Darcy did not appreciate the idea in the least. He did not wish for a frail girl in his bed but a woman. He would have to make sure for the cook here and at Pemberley to prepare Elizabeth’s favourite dishes daily to encourage her eating. She needed that, especially with her habit of going on long walks.

  Gently he inserted one finger inside in an attempt to stretch her out. After some time he added the second one. She was tight as he expected her to be, and he feared that their merging would not be smooth. Slowly he shifted over her, giving her some of his weight, his fingers still inside of her. She was gasping, enjoying his attentions. He grasped her wrist, uncovering her face. He kissed her, plunging his tongue inside of her willing mouth.

  The time had come, and with his hand he guided himself inside. Closing his eyes, he summoned all his control to push slowly. Despite his best efforts she moaned, this time not in pleasure.

  “Forgive me,” he whispered as he settled firmly inside her. He kissed all over her face but she turned her head to the side, her expression one of discomfort. Looking down between them, he saw their bodies joined together, which made his desire only grow. Grasping at her knee, he bent it farther away, settling it on his hip, which allowed him to go deeper into her.

  Cupping her face, he pleaded, “Look at me.”

  She did for a short moment but soon closed her eyes yet again. Her hands settled shyly on both sides of his waist, in this small gesture allowing him to continue. He began moving, concentrating on being as gentle as possible. All too soon the wave of pleasure overpowered him and he panted his fulfilment into the pillow above her head as his seed found his way inside his wife.

  With all his willpower he managed not to crush her, but fell on his back beside her instead. He pulled her with him, though, his manhood still encompassed within her. Trying to catch his breath, he kissed the top of her head, his hand running down her back over the ridiculous nightgown still bundled around her waist, to rest on the prominent curve of her behind.

  After a minute or so she attempted to move away from him. Seeing that she was visibly uncomfortable, he allowed her that. She looked away as he gently disentangled himself from her. Sitting up, she rearranged her nightgown before moving to the side of the bed.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, the feeling of tiredness overpowering him suddenly.

  “To refresh myself,” she answered, avoiding his gaze. She found her robe at the carpet beside the bed and put it back on, covering herself from neck to ankles.

  “Come back quickly,” he pleaded softly, observing as she crossed the room slowly, visibly dragging her legs.

  As she disappeared behind the door to the dressing room, Darcy lay back, fighting for his eyes to stay open. Without a shadow of a doubt it was the most fulfilling night of his life. He had chosen well. They were very well suited in every respect, and certainly would be very happy together.

  Chapter One

  Four months earlier

  Elizabeth Bennet sat with a book in her favourite spot on the wide upholstered bench in the windowsill. The thick shawl was wrapped around her shoulders with another woollen blanket placed around her legs. Despite the bright fire in the mantelpiece, the feeling of cold in her room on the first floor was quite persistent.

  As usual they had little snow, but quite surprisingly the cold rain and blowing wind was replaced with hoarfrost this winter. She quite liked the countryside covered with icy frosting, but even she found it too cold to walk. Her velvet coat, although new and complementing her features, proved to be much too thin for the current weather. One lined with fur would be much more suitable. The cold did not discourage her two youngest sisters from their daily walks to Meryton to visit their aunt Mrs. Phillips, have a look at the red coats and listen to new gossip.

  Her eyes were drawn from the grey skies and frosted trees to the gravelled area in front of the house, where an unfamiliar carriage was coming to a halt. She was more than surprised to see it. They were not expecting any guests this week.

  The door to the carriage opened. She saw a tall, voluptuous blonde stepping down.

  “Jane!” she exclaimed, kicking off the layers of blankets which she was covered with and running out of the room.

  As she reached the downstairs foyer, her sister was disrobing from her hat, coat and gloves with the help of the maid, her trunk standing beside her.

  “Jane! What a surprise!” She fell into the taller woman’s arms. “I did not expect you for another month or more!”

  Jane hugged her back, explaining, “After receiving your last letter I knew that I had to return home as soon as possible. I learned that a good friend of Aunt Madeline, Mrs. Abbott, was about to travel so see her family in Leicester. Aunt was kind enough to arrange for me to go with her.”

  “Did you invite her in?” Elizabeth asked, stepping to the window situated by the door to see that the carriage was alre
ady rolling down the road.

  “I did, of course, but she kindly refused. She is in a hurry. Her intention is to reach the home of her sister yet today, preferably before dark.”

  Elizabeth returned to her sister’s side. “Oh, Jane. I am so glad to see you!”

  “As I am, Lizzy. The house is unusually quiet. Where is everyone?”

  “Mama is sleeping in her room. She caught a mild cold and is very miserable. Kitty and Lydia are at Aunt Phillips’, of course, and Papa is in the library. Mary is in the music room, I believe. She must be reading, though, because I have not heard a single sound from there for a long time.”

  A frown came upon Jane’s lovely face. “I must say that your letter worried me greatly. When I was leaving in December Papa did seem a bit tired but well.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “Come to my room. We shall have privacy there. I will tell you everything. Are you hungry?”

  “No, thank you. Aunt made sure I had a hearty breakfast before leaving. I think I will not be able to eat anything until the evening. Tea will be quite enough.”

  ***

  Jane was seated in front of the buzzing fireplace, Elizabeth’s shawl wrapped loosely around her shoulders, a cup of hot tea with a generous drop of milk warming her hands.

  “You wrote that Papa was unwell and not himself? What was your exact meaning?”

  Elizabeth pulled a blanket around herself, sitting on the nearby settee, her legs curled underneath her. “He lacks energy, he seems indifferent to everything around him, even to Mama and her nerves. He barely speaks to her.”

  Jane took a sip, considering her sister’s words. “It is hardly unusual, Lizzy. We both realise that their union is far from perfection. They are certainly not as well-matched a couple as the Gardiners are.”

  “What I meant is that he behaves differently, but it is not what made me so worried.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “He complains of severe headaches, and his eyesight got much worse. Often he is short and impatient, even with me. He also lost his appetite.”