Rose and Lavender Water 12

Rose and Lavender Water

Part the Twelfth

The morning of the wedding dawned grey but fine.  Bella lay on her back staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of birdsong.  It would be an hour before the rest of the house was up.

When it was time, she was quiet while Mary dressed her and did her hair, placing a yellow ribbon in it although it would be hidden for most of the day by the pink bonnet. 

Elizabeth was still locked in her room and did not venture out, even to see Bella off to the church.

Mary, Papa, and Bella took the carriage to the church, Mama and Jane having already walked there a half hour earlier to take their places in the pews.  Mary squeezed Bella’s hands and stepped down to ask the choirboy waiting outside the church if the groom was in position.

Bella was surprised at the number of people in the church.  It was filled to the brim, on both the bride and the groom’s sides, and as she walked down the aisle, a bouquet of bluebells in her hands (the last surely of the season), she focused on the cross above the altar.

She did not even realize Darcy was regarding her until she turned to him and met his verdant eyes.

He smiled at her, that small, private smile, and she smiled back at him.

It was as if there was a ringing in her ears, and Darcy had to prompt her to recite her vows.  She felt almost foolish, but he guided her through them, and she sighed in relief when they were done.  When he slipped the wedding ring on her finger, a smooth, gold band, she felt the solemnity of the moment.  She did not quite realize they were declared husband and wife until Darcy reached out and squeezed her hand, tipped his head toward the doors of the church and then led her down the aisle, out into the air, and into his waiting carriage that would bring them back to Longbourn for the wedding breakfast.

“Are you well, my love?” he asked as soon as the carriage was moving.

She looked up at him with wide violet eyes.  “Has it happened?  Has it actually happened?”

“Yes, indeed, my love.  We are man and wife.”

Smiling widely at him, Bella centered herself.  “I cannot believe it is actually true.”  She laughed in happiness.

The wedding breakfast was a blur of colors and conversations, but just as the day was turning blustering, Bella was whipped back into the carriage and returned to Netherfield Park.

A butler took her bonnet and her pelisse, she kept the bluebells, and she was led up to a large appointed bedchamber in dark greens.  She set her bouquet down on a vanity, looking around, and noticed that her trunk had been brought up.

She and Mary had gone through all of their dresses, parsing them out, trying to decide who should keep what, which were favorites, which could be given to the other.  It had been a monumental task of the afternoon before.

There was a knock on the door and Darcy entered.  He smiled at her.  “Louisa was wondering if we should like supper in the small parlor.”

“We are not to dine with the others?” she inquired.

“It is not customary as it is our wedding night,” he informed her.

She nodded.  “Of course.”  She looked over the room and took in the fine furnishings.  “I—I do not have Mary to undo my dress when it is time for bed.”

“I shall do that for you,” he informed her, reaching out for her hand, “and then Georgiana’s maid will do suitably well until I can get you your own French maid.  I had not the time to engage one when I was in London this past Sunday.”

“I see,” she answered carefully, coming up to him and placing her hand in his.  “We never had a maid at Longbourn.  Mama had Hill, of course.”

“Of course,” Darcy answered, running a finger down her cheek.  “There will be some adjustments.”  He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head, breathing in her scent.  “You still smell of rose water.”

She closed her eyes for the barest of moments.

He led her out of the room and back down the stairs.  She heard voices from what must have been the dining room, but they went to the small parlor where a meal was laid out for them.

They had never dined with each other before.

Bella played with her fork when she was waiting to be served the first course in her nervousness.  She had never quite gotten over the habit since she had lived in Arizona with Renee. 

Darcy looked over at her and she quickly shifted the fork back into place and put her hands into her lap, looking over the lighted candles in the middle of the table.

“You have no reason to be nervous.”

“We have never been alone before,” she countered, although that was technically not a truth.

“The servants are here,” he reminded her.

She looked over at the footman who was standing at attention by the door.  “I suppose that is true.”

He took a sip of his wine.  “Your sister Elizabeth was not at the church.”

“She was anxious that a certain gentleman call on her.  Papa learnt why and has confined her to her room.”

Darcy grimaced.  “I see.”

“I believe there is a notion to send her to Town for Christmastide.”

“We need not see her there,” he told her in what she assumed was a comforting tone.

“No,” she agreed, as a maid came in and took away their top plates.  “You are perfectly correct.”

They were served the soup course.

Darcy picked up his soup spoon and indicated that Bella should do the same.  “You should have your strength.”

“Why?” she asked.

He looked at her strangely.  “Did your mother not speak to you?”

She paused, remembering her papa saying something similar.  Her mama had been taken with nerves the past several days.  “About what?”

Darcy seemed a little surprised.  “She did not speak to you at all?”

“Mama has not spoken to me in days,” Bella related before she took a sip of soup.  It really was very good.  It must be some sort of Autumn squash.

Regarding her for a long moment with suspicion in his eyes, Darcy returned to his soup. 

They finished the soup and waited for the next course.

When their evening meal was finished, Darcy escorted Bella back up to their bedchamber.  She heard voices coming from the drawing room, but they did not join them.  She supposed they were meant to be in seclusion with each other.  This was their wedding night after all.

Bella went back to the vanity and carefully sat down at it, taking off the simple necklace she was wearing.

Darcy came up behind her and ran a hand down her neck.  “You look so beautiful, Isabella.”

“Do you not think you should call me ‘Bella’ now that we are married?” she asked, meeting his verdant gaze in the looking glass.  “Only Mama and Papa call me by my Christian name.”

“I have noticed Miss Mary calls you ‘Bells.’”  His hand was now caressing her shoulder.

“Yes,” she agreed with a small smile to herself.  “Isabella seems so formal.”

“Isabella is the name of a woman grown,” he argued.  “Take down your hair.”

Her eyes met his again in the glass, but she reached up and slowly took down her hair, just as he had asked.  He had seen it down once before, when he had come to her room at Netherfield, but they had been swathed in darkness then with only the barest hint at candlelight.  As she undid the pins, Darcy reached out and ran his fingers through her hair, stroking it until it ran well past her shoulders.

“I can never determine its color,” he told her, awe in his tone.  “Sometimes I think it is the color of the nighttime sky.  Othertimes I think there are steaks of brown in it.”

“You have the right of it,” she told him.  “It is both.”

He made a sound in the back of his throat, and then he was pulling her up out of the chair and turning her toward him.  He claimed her mouth in a passionate kiss and Bella was startled at the ferocity in it.  He kissed her deeply, his tongue slicing across her lips, and she gasped at the sensation.  He kissed her again and she admitted him entrance, sighing as he pulled her closer, his second hand wrapped in her hair.

“Isabella,” he breathed as he pulled back, staring into her violet eyes. 

She blinked up at him, but said nothing.

He kissed her again and she held tightly to him at the whirl of sensations.  He kissed her, again and again, until she had no breath left, all the while holding her tightly to him. 

“Get on the bed,” he told her, and she pulled away and looked him in the eyes questioningly.

He touched her face gently.  “Get on the bed, Isabella,” he told her again, “and roll down your stockings.”

“My stockings?”

“Yes.”

Getting on the bed, she kicked off her slippers and rolled down her stockings, laying them down at the end of the bed. 

Darcy had divested himself of his cravat and had removed his green jacket.  In another moment, he had thrown off his shirtsleeves and Bella was staring at a very naked Darcy. 

She swallowed. 

“Hush, my love,” he soothed her as he climbed up on the bed and ran a hand up her bare leg.  She shivered at the contact.  “All will be well.”

Darcy kissed her again and she reached up to pull him closer to her, but he was no longer wearing shirtsleeves.  She touched his shoulders tentatively and he angled himself closer toward her.  “Just like that,” he assured her, reaching for her hand and pressing it up against his chest.  “Just like that, my love.”

A little emboldened by his assurance, she ran her hands over his chest, lightly over his chest hair, and sighed into his kiss. 

His lips left hers and ran a trail down her neck and she flushed.  Darcy’s hand reached up her leg and snagged at her small clothes and she smashed the heels of her hands in her eyes at the embarrassment.  She knew what would come next.  She had seen Elizabeth and Wickham.  He would take off her small clothes and then he would adjust his trousers and somehow—something—would happen.

Her small clothes were swept off and he pulled her closer to him, removing her hands from her eyes and looking into her gaze.  “There is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Nothing?” she demanded.  “How is there nothing—?”

Darcy looked at her for a moment and pulled away, sitting up.

She waited a moment before composing herself and sitting up as well.

“Isabella,” he began hesitantly.

Afraid, she answered, “yes?”

“This is nothing like what occurred between your sister and Wickham.”

“It is not?” she questioned.

“We are wed,” he told her quite firmly.

“I understand that.”

“I will not abandon you,” he affirmed.

She smiled at him.  “I know you will not.”

“Then I need you to trust me.”  He reached out and lifted her chin with his fingers, forcing her to meet his gaze.  “Can you do that?”

She thought about it for a long moment and then nodded.  “Yes, I think I can.”

Darcy did not say anything further.  Instead, he reached out and kissed her again softly.  She kept her eyes open for the longest of moments before succumbing to the sensations.  He gently pulled her under him and reached his hand up over her bare leg again and hooked it over his own.  Still, he kissed her. 

“This will be different,” he whispered against her lips.

“A-alright,” she agreed.

His hand left her leg and he readjusted himself.  She felt his trousers chafe her leg and then she was suddenly aware of hairy skin against her and she looked down to see Darcy pushing his britches down his legs.  He was still wearing his boots.  Perhaps he should have taken them off, she thought.

“This is going to hurt,” he apologized, looking into her violet eyes.

“Is it?” she asked in worry.

“Yes, but I do not do it to hurt you.”

She nodded carefully and waited.

He adjusted himself again and she felt a nudging between her legs before there was a sudden fullness.  Bella squeaked and scraped her fingernails against Darcy’s back in her surprise, trying not to call out.

Darcy paused and looked down at her, but her eyes were screwed shut.  Slowly, she began to breathe again, and she forced herself to relax.  She felt tears in her eyes, but he swept them all away.

A few moments later, she felt him move inside of her.  She sucked in a breath. 

It was not as bad the second nor indeed the third time.  By the time Darcy had a rhythm going, she could not say she entirely disliked the process.  There was a sudden rush, a sudden keening, a sudden warmth, and Bella was laid down on the bed.  She felt a lack of fulfillment, but she did not analyze the feelings overmuch. 

It was over and Elizabeth was a fool for wanting to repeat the process, especially against a bookcase.

Darcy reached up and ran a hand lovingly against Bella’s cheek.  “Are you well, my love?”

“Quite well,” she agreed.

She felt him pull out of her and adjust himself.  He lay her skirts back over her legs and he sat up to finally take off his boots.  He found his shirtsleeves and threw them over his head before asking her to sit up so he could finally remove her dress. 

Bella felt quite subconscious in nothing but her corset, but she quickly went to her trunk and found a nightshift that she put on behind a screen.

She looked at a clock.  It was half past eight.  It was certainly too early to retire. 

She hoped Darcy would not want marital relations again.

Looking through her trunk, she saw she had but one book of poetry.  The rest had belonged to her father’s library.  Taking it out, she went back to the bed, from where Darcy was happily watching her.

“Do you want to go downstairs?” she asked him.  “Play billiards with the other men?”

“It is my wedding night,” he countered, reaching for her across the bed and pulling her close.  He buried his nose in her hair.  “I do not care if Benedict, Fitzwilliam, and Bingley are playing billiards.”

“There is only me to entertain you,” she countered.  “I do not even have a proper Shakespeare play where we could read the parts.”

“I do not require a Shakespeare play,” he told her, taking the book of poetry from her hands and putting it on the bedside table.  “All I require is you.”  He pulled away from her and ran a hand through her hair.  “My beautiful wife.”  He leaned down and kissed her slowly. 

Bella allowed her eyes to close.

This time there were no boots to get in the way.  When Darcy lifted up her shift this time, Bella was certain not to flinch, but let him run his hand up her leg and center on her hip.  His entry into her was no less forceful, but she was expecting it this time, and as the pressure mounted, she felt as if she was chasing a sensation she could not quite place.

Then it happened.  She keened.  Grasping Darcy’s shoulder, she shouted his name and curled into him, one hand fisted in his hair and the other grabbing the fabric at his shoulder.  She held on as if her life depended on it.  Darcy clasped her to him even harder, burying his face in her shoulder, thrusting more wildly into her until she felt that same warmth and he cried out her name and he paused before he, too, slumped into her arms.

Their breathing came out ragged for several long moments until Bella finally came to herself.  She sucked into a deep breath and asked, “What was that?”

Darcy took a few moments to compose himself before he drew her into a long, protracted kiss.  When he pulled away, he brushed her dark hair out of her eyes and answered, “That was becoming one.”

“It was not like that the first time,” she told him carefully.

“No,” he stated, “but it should have been.”

She nodded carefully, thinking.  “So it is not always like that?”

“We shall strive to always make it pleasurable for you,” he informed her.  He stroked the side of her face once more.  “I would not wish to leave my wife unsatisfied.”

“Indeed,” she agreed carefully.  “It is not like anything I have ever experienced.”

He laughed a little to himself.  “I should hope not.”

“No,” she demurred.  “I suppose you are correct.”

She fell asleep to wistful thoughts and the sound of Darcy—and not Mary—breathing beside her, wrapped up in his arms. 

The next day the entire Netherfield Park party (sans Bridgerton who would go to Aubrey Hall) prepared to go to London.

Servants were taking trunks out to the carriages and Bella was left to the ministrations of Georgiana’s maid, who did not know how she liked to do her hair.  Bella, in the end, had to do it herself, taking a blue ribbon and putting it through her hair although she should be wearing a bonnet for most of the day.

“You look so fine in blue, Isabella,” Caroline complimented the next morning when she came in for breakfast.  “I hope you found the room comfortable.”

“More than comfortable, thank you,” she agreed as she gathered her breakfast that was arranged on a sideboard.  “I am always comfortable when I stay at Netherfield.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam watched her from where he was seated at the table.  They had barely spoken the day before as he only stepped into the wedding before leaving again as he had a great deal of paperwork for the Army to complete.  He was not even at the wedding breakfast.  She was surprised by how much he looked like Darcy and Georgiana with his brown curls, verdant gaze, and tall figure.  “And how shall you enjoy Town, Mrs. Darcy?” he inquired, his green eyes piercing into hers, as if he had seen her somewhere before.

“I suspect I shall enjoy it very much,” she answered him as Darcy pulled out a seat for her.  “Of course, we return in four weeks’ time for my sister Mary’s wedding.”

“She is marrying my aunt’s cleric, is she not?”  Fitzwilliam looked at her sternly.

Bella would not be cowed.  “They are well suited for one another,” she told him.  “Mr. Collins is most fortunate in his choice of bride.”

“Matrimony is in the air,” Bridgerton noted, looking over at Georgiana Darcy as he said this.  “There must be something about Hertfordshire.”

Bingley looked crushed, Bella noted.  He was staring at his ham, holding his knife and fork in his hands, but seemed unable whether or not to actually eat it. 

“London, though,” Louisa put in, “is a fine prospect.  There is much to do in Town.  You did not have time to buy your trousseau, Isabella, so we shall have to visit Madam de la Croix when we go to Town.”

“I have already written the lady,” Darcy informed her, now taking a sip of his morning coffee.  “She expects Georgiana and Isabella on the morrow.”

“A fine prospect,” Caroline agreed, looking at her brother carefully.  “Do you not think, Charles?  We shall see Mrs. Darcy in silks at last.”

Bingley was not paying her any mind.  He was still staring morosefully at his ham.

Caroline and Louisa shared a look.

Bridgerton was now regarding him as well.

Colonel Fitzwilliam had not taken his eyes off of Bella.  “Mrs. Darcy, will you favor the Darcy colors?”

“I understand they are in the greens, specifically forest green,” Bella confirmed, taking a bite of her egg.  “I shall certainly be purchasing dresses in those colors.  I hope to represent the Darcy family well.”

“Will you be wearing Lady Anne’s jewels?”

Darcy looked over at his cousin harshly.

Bella did not show herself to be perturbed.  “On special occasions if my husband wishes me to.  I am not taken to wearing much ornamentation on my own, as you can see, Colonel.”

The Colonel’s eyes swept over Bella, from head to foot, noticing that she was only wearing her wedding band and a ribbon in her stark hairstyle.  “I do seem to notice that preference of yours, Mrs. Darcy,” he acknowledged.  “Your tastes may not remain the same now that you are married.”

“You suppose I am likely to change just because I have surrendered my father’s name for my husband’s?” she inquired, her eyebrows raised.

“I have noticed it is the custom of most women in society.”

“Perhaps I am not most women in society.”

He did not answer.  Instead, he turned his attention to Georgiana, who was blushing at something Benedict Bridgerton had told her.  Bella noticed that, too.  She would have to ask Darcy about it.

After breakfast, the women all entered the carriages while the men took to the top of their horses.  At the post road, Bridgerton said his farewells and headed in the direction of Hampshire, while the rest of the party continued on to London.

“There he goes,” Caroline remarked from her place next to Bella.  “He was a fine addition to our party, but the Bridgertons do not go to Town for the Little Season.”

“No,” Georgiana agreed.  “They do not.”  She curled up into her muff and looked out the window.

“I know Darcy and I are going to Aubrey Hall in February,” Bella remarked.  “Shall you be attending us, Georgiana?”

“Not that I know of,” she confirmed.  “I shall be in Town for the Masters.”

“Your education is important,” Bella agreed.  She regarded her new sister in law. 

When she and Darcy had walked in on Wickham and Elizabeth, Wickham had remarked that Darcy should not call him out over Elizabeth as Darcy had not previously called him out over Georgiana.  What had he meant?  Had Wickham tried to compromise Georgiana at an earlier date?  It seemed so unlikely given that Georgiana was still a child, only sixteen years of age.  However, Wickham had still said it.

Bella had not asked Darcy about it at the time because she had been in such shock over finding Elizabeth in a compromising position.  Now, though, now she wondered.

What had Wickham done to Georgiana?  What secrets were Darcy hiding from her?

They arrived in good time in Town, just after lunch, the carriage first stopping at Darcy House, with the carriage unloading Bella and Georgiana, before taking Louisa and Caroline to the house Bingley had rented for the Winter.

Bella walked into Darcy House and was surprised at its size and its elegance.  The front hall alone could have held the entire Longbourn drawing room.

The trunks were being carried in and Annabella, Georgiana’s maid, was directing the placement of Bella’s battered trunk.

“Come,” Georgiana said, “we always sit in the Music Room.”

“Is Colonel Fitzwilliam not joining us?” Bella asked, noticing he had not come through the main doors with Darcy.

“He will go back to the Barracks,” Georgiana told her as they entered a fine room with a large pianoforte.  “He shall undoubtedly be back for dinner today or tomorrow.”

“Indeed,” Bella murmured as she went to look out the window at the London streets.  She saw people walking about, some in pairs, some alone, all of them looking at Darcy House where the master had just taken up residence again. 

An announcement of their marriage would have been placed in the Times this morning, Bella thought.  They would surely know about her as well by now.

Stepping away from Georgiana, she smiled.  “Are we waiting for tea or shall we have a late lunch?” she inquired.

“It is for you to say,” Georgiana told her quietly.  “You are lady of the house now.”

With a sinking feeling, Bella realized she was right.  She was mistress of all she surveyed, and the idea frightened her a little.