Darcy and Elizabeth: Their Wedding Night (Leaving More or Less to the Imagination)

For our “After the Wedding” theme, I turned to my very first novel: The Darcys of Pemberley. As a P&P sequel, technically the whole thing takes place after the wedding. However, since the story picks up a year into D&E’s marriage, there’s not much about the actual wedding night, only this short PG clip, which leaves a lot to the imagination:

Elizabeth’s mind drifted back to the first time she had seen their London house, which had been on their wedding day. Although usually self-assured, on that occasion she became increasingly discomposed as they drew ever nearer, her apprehension arising as much from her new position as mistress of such a grand house as from the prospect of what awaited her in the marriage bed. She needn’t have worried on either account; her husband managed everything for her comfort.

A fine supper had been prepared that evening for the master and his bride, to which they did not do justice. The delicately roasted quail had gone nearly untouched; the parsley potatoes failed to hold their interest; they drank their wine but hardly tasted it. The cook was not to blame, nor was she much offended that the couple’s appetites were so thoroughly engaged elsewhere. Ultimately, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy abandoned their dinner and moved to the bedchamber for the much-anticipated main course of the evening, which turned out more to their liking…

So for today, I decided to expand on it with three short vignettes. This is a brand new scene, written especially for this post! Still PG, but leaving somewhat less to the imagination this time:

Elizabeth was precisely where she had for months longed to be – beside the man she desperately loved, just that morning made her husband – and yet her mind would not settle. Her thoughts would not be at peace. In fact, the closer the carriage drew to Darcy’s London house, the more unruly they became.

While her rational, optimistic self told her all would be well, the devil inside (whose voice sounded remarkably like Lady Catherine’s) shouted all the louder. What had she been thinking of, consenting to marry Mr. Darcy, who was so very far above her station? What did Elizabeth Bennet know about being the wife of an important man with two grand houses to manage? For that matter, what did she know of being any man’s wife?

Her mother had not made an excellent model for the more public parts of marriage, and she had been even less helpful with that particular aspect of married life that carried on entirely behind closed doors.

A few nights before the wedding, Mrs. Bennet had sat her two eldest daughters down for “a serious-minded discussion,” her significant look and considerable embarrassment leaving no doubt as to the intended topic of conversation. But, alas, the brides-to-be were little better informed in the end.

After much hesitation and demurring, Mrs. Bennet had said, “I will speak as plainly as I can. You both must surely know that there is a certain duty every wife owes to her marriage by way of procreation. If you are lucky, your husband may be patient with you. However, sooner or later, he will insist on coming to your bed and having his way. And not just the once, mind you; it is a regular practice. I am afraid there is no avoiding it, my dears! You simply must make up your minds to be brave about it.”

Jane had looked to Elizabeth in distress. Elizabeth returned her sister’s gaze with somewhat different sentiments, struggling instead to suppress a powerful urge to laugh. Really, it was too absurd! Was this to be all the maternal aid they would receive?

“Unpleasant as the business may be in the beginning” continued their mother, “it is part of the natural order of things, and one tends to get used to it.” Following another hesitation, and blushing furiously, she had finished with this encouraging word. “I believe some women actually learn to enjoy it a bit in time… or so I am told.”

After Mama left them, Jane and Elizabeth had stayed. “What are we to think, Lizzy?” Jane asked in mystification.

“Do not take what Mama says too much to heart,” said Elizabeth. “I think we may trust our husbands to be kind; they are not brutes but very humane men, after all. As for the business itself, I must say I am intrigued, our mother’s fretful warning notwithstanding. So let us try to be open minded, Jane. Perhaps we may both be among those fortunate creatures she spoke of – the females who, rumor has it, actually take some little pleasure in it.”

Although the words had come easily enough and sounded sage at the time, now Elizabeth’s nerve was failing. In truth, however, her apprehension arose as much from her new duties as mistress of the great house she was soon to see for the first time, as from the prospect of what awaited her in the marriage bed. Elizabeth shivered in spite of herself.

“What is it?” Darcy asked. “Are you cold?”

“A little,” she answered, accepting his interpretation.”

In response, Darcy settled a wool rug over their laps and his arm about her shoulders. “There, is that better?”

“Oh, yes. In fact, had I anticipated such an agreeable solution, I should have discovered myself to be cold a good deal sooner.” Yes, she reminded herself, she could trust to her husband’s kindness. Still… “Now, tell me again what I am to expect when we arrive at Darcy House.”

~~*~~

Elizabeth got through the arrival ceremonies without incident, remembering to play her lady-of-the house role as she entered and met the array of smart-looking servants assembled there to greet them. Then Darcy insisted on giving her a full tour of the house, which, not surprisingly was spacious and tastefully appointed, top to bottom.

“This chamber,” Darcy said as he opened a door on the bedroom level, “I had new furnished especially for your arrival, my love. I hope you will find it to your liking.”

Looking about herself, Lizzy got no more than two steps inside before stopping, her eyes coming to rest on the enormous bed, richly dressed.

At her hesitation, he went on, “You can, of course, make any alterations you like… if it does not suit you… in any way at all.”

“No!” she said at last, recovering her voice. “No, I would not change a thing. It is a very sweet room – sweet to the eye and to the mind. Everything is just as I would have wished. Thank you,” she said, briefly laying a hand on her husband’s arm.

“I am glad you approve,” said Darcy warmly, looking much relieved. “Your dressing room is there to the left and this…” He moved to the right and opened a door. “This leads to the master’s bedchamber.”

“Your room? And this one is mine?” Elizabeth asked in some confusion.

“Yes.”

“But… but I had thought… That is…”

“Oh, never fear. We may arrange things between us as we like. Just because there are two rooms… and two beds, that does not obligate us to use them both… separately, that is. In fact, I hope that… What I mean is, everything will be managed for your comfort, my dear. You have my word as a gentleman on that.”

“That is very good of you. However,” She gave him an arch smile and then looked away, saying, “I trust, Husband, that we, both of us, will find sharing the same bed is the most comfortable… and convenient.”

~~*~~

A fine supper had been prepared that evening for the master and his bride, to which they did not do justice. The delicately roasted quail went nearly untouched; the parsley potatoes failed to hold their interest; they drank their wine but hardly tasted it. The cook was not to blame, nor was she much offended that the couple’s appetites were so thoroughly engaged elsewhere. Ultimately, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy abandoned their dinner and moved upstairs for the much-anticipated main course of the evening.

As they slowly made their way upstairs again, Darcy held his wife’s hand, sometimes squeezing it with an intensity that clearly communicated his restrained passion, about to be unleashed. Elizabeth could feel her own excitement building in response, the last of her misgivings banished.

When they reached their rooms, Darcy faced Elizabeth, now holding both her hands and kissing each one. “I will come to you soon, my love.”

Parting in the passageway, Elizabeth went to her bedchamber and Darcy to his, with the sure and certain knowledge that the door which divided the two would not stay closed that night. Before long, the rooms would be united, as would their occupants. God had joined the man and the woman together in holy matrimony, after all, and so the two shall become one flesh.

Those words repeated themselves in Elizabeth’s mind and imagination as her maid helped her to let down her dark hair, to shed her gown, and don her night clothes. Then she was alone again and waiting, staring at the door where at any moment her new husband would appear in all his natural splendor.

His soft knock finally sounded, followed by one word. “Elizabeth?”

A delicious thrill ran through her shoulders and then settled somewhat lower. She blew out all but one candle and went to open the door herself. For a moment, they both stood there in the lingering glow, transfixed, full of awe and wonder – at the nearness of the other and at their own tremendous good fortune. Then they were in each other’s arms.

*sigh*

So, less is more? Or is “more” still not enough? Just in case, there are more romantic moments sprinkled throughout The Darcys of Pemberley for your enjoyment.

The other married couple I’ve written for is the Tilneys: Henry and Catherine. There’s a taste of their newlywed relationship here, in an excerpt from my latest: Murder at Northanger Abbey.