A train of carriages lined the gravel drive outside Netherfield Park. Elizabeth stood atop the ancient stone steps, arrested by the sight of her family below with Jane and Mr. Bingley. She had not anticipated her entire family to travel from Longbourn, but all four assembled in the cold that morning, determined to see the Darcys off.
“Lizzy, I wrote you last night,” Mary said, approaching her sister and pressing a folded letter to her hand.
“Me too, I did as well,” Kitty added, thrusting her note to her sister. “When can we come visit you at Pemberley?”
“Kitty, shush,” Mary chided, rolling her eyes at her sister’s forwardness.
Elizabeth tucked both letters into her reticule for later. She opened her arms and hugged each of them. “As soon as the weather warms up, perhaps. I will tell you what to expect on the journey,” she promised.
“But you’ve already made the journey before,haven’t you?” Kitty asked, objecting on what she understood to be a hindrance to visiting the grand estate. She had heard Pemberley was much larger than Netherfield Park.
“Not a direct route! They visited all over the Peak District,” Mary defended, earning a nod from Elizabeth. She stepped aside to allow Mary to explain more to Kitty, and joined her parents standing near Mr. Darcy and the Bingleys.
“If Pemberley boasts even half the library Bingley here tells me about, you can expect me in January!” Mr. Bennet teased his newest son-in-law and Mr. Darcy bore it with a polite smile.
“You are welcome, sir. I believe your presence would be a great comfort to my wife,” Mr. Darcy said, winking at Elizabeth as she hugged her father farewell and could see her husband over his shoulder.
“Don’t forget to write,” Mrs. Bennet said, weeping her farewell to her least-deserving daughter into a handkerchief.
“I won’t, Mama, and if you do not wish to come all the way to Pemberley, perhaps you can come to stay with us in London,” Elizabeth said, slightly touched by her mother’s abundance of emotion. It was not the sendoff she expected in the least.
“Oh! London! Yes, yes, you must give Kitty and Mary proper seasons in London under your sponsorship, Mrs. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet cooed.
Mrs. Darcy’s face melted into a frown of disgust. Thankfully, Mr. Bennet led her mother away before Elizabeth could say something she regretted for the lengthy carriage ride.
At last, the Darcys boarded the carriage designated just for them, as their closest staff joined the one in front of them. Two additional carriages, one in the very front and one behind, carried their various personal effects and men hired for their protection. The slow progress through the village picked up in speed after they passed the first mile marker and turned onto the main turnpike towards London. Assured of the privacy of the open road, Mr. Darcy suddenly began kissing his wife earnestly.
“Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth sighed, gasping between loving assaults of his lips that she could scarcely manage to answer with her own before he reached to pull her across his lap.
“Remove this confounded wrap,” he barked, teasingly, nipping at her fingertips to remove her gloves. He huffed and shook his head, pantomiming his suffocation in the mink that blocked his path to her lovely bosom.
“I shall be chilled,” she said, involuntarily shivering as his fingertips grazed the inside of her wrists, now exposed from the removal of her gloves. Still, she obediently removed the offending garment. Gooseflesh broke out along her arms as her husband resumed his consumption of her person. “But oh, I can bear to be chilled,” she reasoned as his hands hiked up her skirts just as his breath warmed her bosom.
The carriage rocked and offered a movement Fitzwilliam used to his advantage, stroking her folds with his fingers. He brought his wife well beyond the level of arousal she felt that morning.
Her hands frantically grasped at his curls, trying to steady her body by holding on to his neck. But the man seemed to be a sorcerer in his ministrations. No sooner did she feel his tongue darting over her nipple that his fingers ran down her slit, leaving her wet and wanting so desperately between her thighs.
“Fitzwilliam, please,” she begged, working with him to end up perfectly straddling his lap, anxious for him to join with her in the carriage and put them both out of their misery. But he did not release the fall of his breeches. She grew impatient as she reached down to stroke his indisputable arousal for her.
“Hold tightly,” he growled, and in one swift movement, he lifted her to the opposite bench, landing her with her skirts well above her knees and exposing her womanhood, by splaying her legs wide with his hands.
She began to sit up properly, as she had landed at an awkward slouching angle, but she soon learned that was precisely how her husband wished her to be positioned. Still, she squirmed as he held her there and bent down to lead kisses up her right thigh.
His attentions tickled and aroused her at the same time. Just as she let out a laugh, his fingers gently nudged her folds open and his tongue began to lap at the sweet essence preparing her body for his member. She bit her lower lip and moaned as he sent wave after wave of ecstasy through her core. Half-heartedly she marveled at the sensation feeling so different from other times they had joined as husband and wife until his fingers joined his tongue. They plunged her depths in a cadence entirely more delicate than the thrusts he managed when his hips controlled his movement.
She struggled to move against his mouth, craving something more she could not describe, while also holding her position as the carriage took a turn. His teeth playfully grazed her most sensitive apex and involuntarily, she squeezed with her thighs, causing him to pull slightly away and catch his breath. Not to be discouraged, Fitzwilliam chuckled and became more focused at bringing his wife to completion.
Panting led to whimpering, and by the time his pace became the frantic speed she needed, her screams of ecstasy accompanied a release from her body that neither of them had experienced before.
When at last her joys subsided and her husband resumed his seat, Elizabeth lowered her skirts and sat up reddened by embarrassment.
Feeling bereft of his touch, Elizabeth surprised him by timing the carriage’s natural sway to shift back to the bench she began the journey on, next to him.
“I cannot exit this carriage.”
He kissed her temple after he finished cleaning his person with his handkerchief. “I promise to offer you similar affections in our bedroom, and anywhere else you may require,” he said, proudly of his love-making prowess.
“No,” she said, laughing at her own folly, and from the abundance of happiness that still overwhelmed her spirits after experiencing her husband’s love. “I did not mean to say I believed only such . . .” she struggled for a word, and he obliged.
“Adventures,” he said, with a smirk.
“Indeed, adventures, could be accomplished in a carriage. I cannot leave because after making such a racket, how can I show my face to the driver and footmen?” she asked, cringing.
“Hmmm,” Mr. Darcy ruminated, waiting for his wife to challenge his silence.
“Speak, sir,” she said, finding her wrap and draping it loosely about her shoulders again. “You have sage wisdom to impart, I suppose?”
Mr. Darcy shook his head, and kissed her cheek this time before explaining. “I cannot say that I have ever enjoyed such an adventure before in a carriage,” he said, carefully so as not to begin a conversation about where he learned anything he shared with his wife, “but do you feel the same amount of shame over your morning’s pot? Or when your maid bathes you?” he asked, adding how he was still jealous about the latter.
Elizabeth shrugged, as such an idea of being embarrassed over the natural course of life sounded absurd.
“And for a husband and wife, no one expects us to do anything but love one another and one day, increase the population,” he said, smiling at her and pulling her closer.
The mention of progeny struck a new thought to Elizabeth, and her hand reached up for his cheek.
“I am a beast! I should see to your needs!” she exclaimed and her husband merely tightened his embrace of her.
Then he leaned over and whispered into her ear: “While I am touched by your concern, it appears there is no need. Tending to you, I’m also slightly embarrassed to speak, satisfied my need. Besides, such a reciprocal act in a carriage is quite . . . risky.”
“Risky?” she asked.
Darcy chomped his teeth and made a look of horror, so that his wife understood.
Nodding in understanding, Elizabeth yawned, as the highs of passion left her without energy. Her husband again chuckled at his success, but opened the seat ahead of them to retrieve a blanket that had been on a warming stone. Wrapping them both in the comfort, he cradled Elizabeth’s upper form in his arms and encouraged her to sleep. She protested, as the ride was not so far, but as he began to speak about Pemberley, she found herself drifting off to sleep.
It wasn’t until they stopped later to change the horses that she woke and joined him in the inn. Neither were hungry, but he still rented a room for a rest and to see to their other needs before resuming their journey to London.