Work Text:
‘But our visitor was very obstinate. I fancy, Lizzy, that obstinacy is the real defect of his character, after all. He has been accused of many faults at different times, but this is the true one. Nothing was to be done that he did not do himself….
His behaviour to us has, in every respect, been as pleasing as when we were in Derbyshire. His understanding and opinions all please me; he wants nothing but a little more liveliness, and that, if he marry prudently, his wife may teach him.’
- From Mrs Gardiner’s letter to Elizabeth Bennet in Chapter 52 of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
Fitzwilliam Darcy had long believed that, given the years he had dwelled on choosing the lady he wished to make his wife, that such a delay would have thoroughly prepared himself for all of those alterations—even the most minor—that would occur subsequent to the day that Miss Elizabeth Bennet made him the happiest of men and became his very own Mrs Darcy. The fastidious gentleman had not rushed into a marriage; he had not been wed at an astonishingly young age after finding himself swept up by a lady’s youth and beauty; no, the decision of the woman to whom he would give his surname and would consequently see herself installed as mistress of Pemberley had not been a decision that he had taken lightly. The necessity to exercise prudence when making his decision had been impressed upon him at such an early age by his father that it was ingrained into him long before he had even entered the schoolroom and promptly memorised the Greek alphabet. The late Mr Darcy had not wished for his son to rush into a marriage that he would come to regret; or, worse still, a marriage that would jeopardise the continued prosperity of the Pemberley estate. It was advice that Fitzwilliam Darcy had heeded; for when his wedding day finally arrived, he was substantially closer to his thirtieth year than to his twentieth.
Indeed, Mr Darcy’s path to his bride had been far from conventional; his haphazard acquaintance and courtship with Miss Elizabeth Bennet had proved a far more chaotic process than a man as fastidious as Darcy had ever imagined it would be. Consequently, it struck him as all the more remarkable that the very woman who had caused him to—albeit momentarily—lose sight of the advice he had held so close to his heart since he was a boy, as he had when he had made that ill-considered proposal as Hunsford Parsonage (which had led to Elizabeth delivering a thorough and just rebuke of him) was in fact the very woman upon whom he had so joyously bestowed the Darcy name.
In those precious weeks prior to that day when Mr Darcy embarked upon his married life, he had received a slew of advice from plenty of sources; some which had surprised him (from his housekeeper, Mrs Reynolds); some which had stirred great emotions within him, that touched his heart with their poignancy (from his younger sister, Georgiana, offering a familial perspective in place of his mother and father); some which he had valued for their wisdom (from the happily married Mr and Mrs Gardiner) and ultimately some which he had very much not (from the arch snob Lady Catherine de Bourgh, via the thoroughly objectionable Mr Collins).
Yet, no amount of advice had quite captured how at once daunting and wonderful married life was; how many surprises that laid in store; how many small gestures that took on new meaning.
Even several months into his marriage, it was still as strange and surprising a concept to Mr Darcy as it had been on his wedding night to know that his life was now shared with another. He loved having a wife as much as he adored and savoured being a husband; yet it was still a state of affairs that he was unaccustomed to. To have another so devoted to him; who cared for him so deeply was rather strange indeed. To a man of Darcy’s disposition, such tender affection had proved slightly disconcerting at first. As had the realisation that Pemberley would now forever have another permanent resident besides himself; though he could not wallow in such discomfiture for long, not with all of the joys that the presence of such a woman as vivacious as Elizabeth had brought to his home.
Though this concept of sharing a life and a home was, in many ways, still alien to him, Mr Darcy loved his wife too greatly to be truly perturbed by her presence for any great duration.
However, though he now possessed such a deep reservoir of affection that could easily spill over at any moment, such depths of love did not mean that his patience was unlimited. The obstinacy that had been apparent in his personality had not abruptly vanished with his marriage; though perhaps it had been lessened somewhat under Elizabeth’s careful attention and nurturing presence. Still, Darcy was a creature of habit; a man unaccustomed to having anything but his own way; a man unused to sharing his life with another. Though there had always been Georgiana, the relationship between one’s sister and one’s wife produced a rather different dynamic indeed.
As a consequence of so many years spent on his own, firstly as an only child and then as an orphaned bachelor, in the absence of others, Darcy had fallen into habits that were not always conducive to good health. It was a fact that exasperated his wife; especially on this particular day but a few months since Mr Darcy had returned to Pemberley with Elizabeth. What had commenced as a bright and chilly morning in Derbyshire had evolved into a bitterly cold evening after the weak summer sun had slipped beyond the horizon.
Upon returning to the house, after an arduous day of riding around the park despite the frigid conditions, in order to keep a commitment to visit some of his tenants who had lately been having difficulty with their farmhouse, Darcy was greeted with the arresting sight of Elizabeth in the entrance hall, with her hands on her hips and a stern expression across her face. Though her countenance softened slightly upon first perceiving him, a simmering irritability lingered beneath those dark eyes that he so adored. Darcy knew that he was late for dinner, that darkness had abruptly descended across Derbyshire left him under no illusion to that fact. Accordingly, as she closed the distance between them to receive him, he became aware of the cause of Elizabeth’s ill-humour. And it was just as he had expected.
‘You have been hours, Mr Darcy! I have been quite worried as to your whereabouts!’ exclaimed Elizabeth as she approached her husband.
Though Darcy had been formerly wary of embracing his wife in front of the servants, fearing such public impropriety and consequent gossip, it had become quite evident after only a few weeks spent together in residence in Pemberley that Elizabeth delighted in such displays of affection—servants be damned! So, not wanting to cast a dark cloud over their matrimonial bliss, Darcy had quickly settled into allowing Elizabeth to bestow sweet caresses upon him, without fretting over any onlookers. After all, there were far worse things a servant could observe than their master demonstrating that he was utterly besotted with the lady who served as their mistress. Accordingly, this evening, he did not flinch when Elizabeth snaked her arms around his waist and leaned up to press a gentle, fleeting kiss to his smooth cheek.
Elizabeth, meanwhile, had thought nothing of demonstrating such open and easy affection upon her return to Pemberley; the Bennets, at Longbourn, had always been family who demonstrated their affection in such a manner, and the young Mrs Darcy delighted in observing that her husband’s stoic exterior was gradually being weakened by her loving gestures. Though she would have wished to savour the moment, the coolness of Mr Darcy’s skin beneath her lips caused her to start.
Elizabeth pulled away and ordered, ‘oh! you are freezing, Mr Darcy! Go to your study at once. I asked for a fire to be lit there. It shall soon warm you up.’
Mr Darcy could not help but raise his eyebrows at the way his wife addressed him. Her tone certainly brooked no room for argument, which was a novel concept to a man as used to giving orders as the master of Pemberley was. Though he was not scandalised or emasculated by taking orders from his wife; it was evident, from the look in Elizabeth’s eyes and the preparation she had made for his return, that she cared a great deal for him and only wanted to ensure his comfort. So, after raising Elizabeth’s small hand and bowing his lips to press a soft kiss against the back of it, Darcy duly did as his wife demanded. He retained little energy to argue, in any case. The day had been quite exhausting enough, and had left him with no appetite to quarrel with his wife.
Darcy had expected Elizabeth to follow directly, but he was dismayed to discover that she was detained elsewhere. Though there were but a few minutes where the tall gentleman sat in his favourite armchair by the fire in his study and cut a solitary figure while he ate his supper that he had found waiting for him, he missed Elizabeth’s presence. It had been a long day, and even if she were cross with him it was preferable to solitude. Thankfully, the affectionate Mr Darcy was not deprived of the welcome presence of his wife for any great duration. Elizabeth returned a short while later, just as he had finished his supper. Though the nourishment had helped to warm him inside and his body was no longer wracked by perceptible tremors, there remained across Elizabeth’s face that same simmering irritability that he had first perceived upon his return to the great house, which quite undid all of the good work and sent a shiver down his spine. She did not speak as she entered the room. It was only when she took her place on the armchair opposite him by the fire that she finally opened her lips to deliver a stern rebuke.
‘I really wish, Fitzwilliam, that you would have at least shown me the consideration of having one of your men ride up to the house and inform me that you were delayed in returning from your errand.’
‘Forgive me, dearest. I quite lost track of the hour. The Thomases have lately been having dreadful difficulty with their roof. Mrs Thomas is quite elderly now, and her son Jack is such an excellent gardener here that I rather feel I must do everything in my power to assist them, especially with the coldest months fast approaching.’
At his explanation, Elizabeth could not help but feel her formerly harsh demeanour towards him softened. He really was the very best of men; a fine example of a generous, affable master. ‘You know I married you for the kindness of your heart far more than this wonderful home, and I admire the generosity of your spirit immensely. You do credit to the good name of your family,’ said Elizabeth, softly. ‘But if you are not careful, you shall wear yourself out, Fitzwilliam! Georgiana and I would like to have you around for a long time yet. I am seeing to it that a bath is drawn for you upstairs.’
Darcy sighed. He was perfectly amiable until it came to following an order that he did not wish to oblige. He knew that he had conducted many such visits upon days even colder than this in his time, and he had been fine without all this fuss! His limbs were so weary that truly he only wanted to rest abed with his wife in his arms. That would provide all the warmth; all the remedy he required. So, he attempted to minimise any commotion. ‘You need not distress yourself, Elizabeth,’ said Darcy softly. ‘Truly, after a hot supper by the warmth of the fire, which you had so caringly ensured was prepared for my return, I am certain that I have been more than sufficiently warmed. I beg you, do not make a fuss.’
‘I see what you are doing,’ smirked Elizabeth, despite herself, as she shook her head at her husband. ‘You are reminding me of what a stubborn creature you are. But you do not have to be so big and brave any longer, Fitzwilliam. You really must allow me to take care of you.’
‘I am fine ,’ insisted Darcy, with a small—almost imperceptible—pout upon his lips. It appeared that his energy had rather recovered.
Elizabeth abruptly stood from her chair and, in her frustration, excluded both his title and his Christian name from her exclamation, ‘Darcy! You must rest. I am seeing to it that a bath will be drawn for you.'
Though merely referring to him as that horridly impersonal way of, ‘Darcy,’ was a peculiar thing to hear from his wife and had caused him to start at the unfamiliarity, he was not about to be undone by a single word. His innate obstinacy won out, and Mr Darcy pressed on with his refusals of the offered assistance, ‘I am fine. Really, Elizabeth! Such fuss is most unnecessary. I have conducted many such visits as master and each has been remedied by a hot supper, which I have just now dutifully eaten, followed by a good night of sleep in a warm bed. Except now, my bed shall be made ever warmer, I dare to hope, by the wonderful and most welcome addition of your presence.'
‘Oh, you may try to distract me with your manifold charms, Fitzwilliam. But I was not seeking your permission. I was merely paying you the courtesy of providing you with a warning,’ remarked Elizabeth, with a satirical smile as she swept away from him, knowing full well that he would follow.
And he did; though Darcy was aghast at her manner. In his wife, he had more than met his match. Despite her vows, Elizabeth would not easily submit to him and obey his wishes, for she was not easily overawed by his status. His name, his estate, his wealth all counted for naught when it came to his wife. With her, he could no longer rely upon those charms he had long used to get his own way before he met her. With Elizabeth, such endeavours were hopeless. He must surrender. Though such a realisation and acceptance of his fate did not lessen the amount he grumbled and murmured under his breath as he followed her upstairs into the chamber where his valet awaited them. Before she left, Elizabeth thanked Mr Darcy’s valet sincerely, though with a certain degree of smugness that was undetectable to a diligent servant but was all too evident to her husband.
Once he was undressed and alone, he clambered into the bath. As he reclined in the warm water, Darcy gasped and groaned in pleasure at the comfort the process brought to his heavy, weary limbs; he considered that being cared for in such a manner, by a woman who know him so intimately, perhaps even better than he knew himself, was evidence that he had made a most fortunate marriage. It was a worthwhile price to pay, really it was no price at all, to lose his solitude. Before Elizabeth, no one would have dared to stand up to him in the manner that she had this evening; his servants were (rightly) much too awed by him, but he did not gain such checks on his behaviour even from his friends nor his relations. Even those he was closest to in the world, such as Mr Bingley, Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam all still stood too much in awe to deny Darcy anything that his heart desired.
To be loved so intimately surely proved that he had made a marriage that was most pleasing in its prudence. It was true that in waiting so long and meticulously evaluating those options before him with such harshness, Darcy had slipped into conceitedness. But his high standards also had the happy benefit of meaning that his heart was unlikely to be easily touched, save by the most remarkable of women. That was his Elizabeth. He leaned back and sighed, perfectly content with the direction that his life had taken; quite certain that his much-missed mother and father would have been delighted with his choice of wife. Elizabeth was precisely the kind of presence in his life he had sorely lacked for so long. Despite the warmth of the bath, Darcy felt a sudden shiver run down his spine at the thought of how much more deplorable his behaviour would have grown if he had continued in his conceited, selfish manner without Elizabeth to check his behaviour. He would certainly be one of the most deplorable men, all that he abhorred. It was a horrifying thought indeed; but he did not wish to dwell upon it. That was not his reality, no. Instead, on this particular evening, his lovely wife had seen to it that a hot bath was drawn to warm him up after an arduous day in the frigid Derbyshire weather.
Darcy reclined and smiled, appreciating the way the warm water sloshed around him as he revelled in his good fortune and for his good luck in encountering such a remarkable woman as his wife.
When Darcy, with fingertips resembling prunes, finally emerged from the bath and entered the bedchamber, he discovered that Elizabeth was warming herself on an armchair by the fire. She was already dressed for bed, her state of undress an indication, he hoped, that she wished to remain for the night in his chambers.
Upon perceiving him, Elizabeth placed the volume that she had been occupied with aside and stood up to greet him with a smile as she said, ‘I trust you enjoyed your bath, Mr Darcy.’
‘I did indeed. I thank you, Mrs Darcy for your diligence in ensuring that it was prepared for me. I am tremendously fortunate to have a wife who knows precisely what I require at any given moment even better than I myself do. Though I may not have earlier shown it, I am a grateful husband.’
‘I know you are,’ smiled Elizabeth, her eyes soft with adoration, before her manner quite altered and added she saucily, ‘indeed, the bath appears to have warmed you through. Your colour is far more agreeable now. Though it was a step in the right direction, I think it is high time that you make use of your bed to continue the process.’
From stern to flirtatious in merely a matter of minutes; Darcy was mesmerised by her. Though it had been several months since their wedding day, he was still growing used to seeing his wife in such an intimate setting, with her hair down. Only he was treated to such a view; only he was privileged enough to perceive her in such a state of undress. Elizabeth was so disarming in her casual beauty that he complied immediately and did not fight her on this request as he previously had done; he eagerly burrowed beneath the various blankets, heart thudding in his chest with anticipation at the thought of what ‘continuing the process’ of warming him up would entail.
Between ardent kisses, Elizabeth thanked her husband for overcoming his stubborn nature and finally complying with her. She was so charmed by his behaviour that she thought him more than worthy of a reward, and accordingly suggested a further activity that might thoroughly warm the both of them through. Upon hearing her proposition, Darcy went to move over her, but Elizabeth throatily reassured him to relax; that she would take care of him and bring him much pleasure if he only lay back and allowed her to. Darcy was so enraptured by the sight before him that he was unable to feel even a modicum of anxiety as to whether such a state of affairs were proper for a husband and wife. Accordingly, the gasps and groans that henceforth filled Mr Darcy’s bedchamber were reminiscent of those which had been drawn from him as he had finally soothed his weary muscles in the hot water of his bath a short time before. Though the sounds of pleasure which were audible were not now the result of a hot bath, they nonetheless resulted from an equally pleasurable sensations presently being inflicted upon Mr Darcy’s person.
As he glanced up and beheld his wife’s dark eyes, which presently sparkled not only due to the deepest ecstasy but also out of love and tenderness for him, Mr Darcy was certain that he was the luckiest creature in all the land. To be taken care of was a new experience for him and new experiences were a rarity at the age of eight and twenty. But it did not follow that such novelty rendered such experiences necessarily unwelcome. In fact, to have the good fortune to be blessed with new experiences at such a time in life when one possesses the maturity to fully enjoy the novelty of them, made such experiences perhaps the most pleasing of all.
Later, as he stroked his wife’s soft hair and enjoyed the pleasing weight of her in his arms, the master of Pemberley thought, with a smug smile, that he had indeed made a pleasingly prudent marriage.