Going to Bed (Fic: Pride and Prejudice, D/E, Oneshot)
Title: Going to Bed
Fandom: Pride and Prejudice
Pairing: Darcy/Elizabeth
Word Count: 971
Rating: G bordering on PG (mild discussion of sex)
Warnings: Nada.
Disclaimer: They're in the public domain; I suppose I can do what I like! :)
Summary: Darcy and Elizabeth's first night as a married couple is a time for facing nerves and making arrangements for their future life together.
Notes: This is a preliminary version of something that will more than likely be straightened out and posted on ff.net later. I've had a woeful time finding information about Georgian-era nightwear, thus the undressing is a bit... well, vague. The period language might also be mildly inaccurate; I remembered as soon as I embarked upon this why exactly I've only written one other piece for this fandom. As is, this was an idea that wouldn't let me go, and fulfills a prompt for the Written in the Stars challenge at 5_prompts (K1. You'll have zero difficulty tolerating the same person everyone else seems to be running from.). It was also loosely inspired by John Donne. Go figure.
Darcy waited, watching the door of his bedchamber in anticipation. Elizabeth was long in coming and he was starting to believe she was anxious-perhaps even afraid. He had entertained a passing thought of her being nervous about their first night together as husband and wife, but never had he imagined she would not come to him.
He stood, intending to inquire about her whereabouts-he would go to her, perhaps, and assuage her fears, or if she wished not to see him, at least ascertain from her maid that she was well-but at that moment, the door opened, and Elizabeth entered bearing a candle and a smile that outshone the candle by far.
“You thought I was not coming?” she asked as she came closer, grinning impishly. It stunned him still how easily she could guess his thoughts.
He started to speak, but she set the candle on his nightstand and spoke again. “Or perhaps you believed I was already on my way and you were only too eager to meet me.”
“Which would you rather believe?”
“Oh, what I believe is no concern, sir.” He had told her many times since their engagement that she need not stand on ceremony, but on occasion she persisted, to tease him. “Of course, I would certainly wish you not think I would not come to you, as such a refusal would suggest a denial of the responsibilities of the marriage bed.”
“Responsibility suggests a requirement-a duty you are bound to.” Darcy reached for her hand. “Should you be uncomfortable, I do not wish for you to feel obligated. We can wait, if you so choose. You must be comfortable, Elizabeth.”
“I am the most comfortable creature in the world,” Elizabeth affirmed. “New as I may be to marriage, I am no stranger to the belief you will make me happy. Any nerves I might have felt are now allayed. However, should I disappoint you-”
This time his hand caressed her cheek. “Elizabeth. I am aware you’ve not previously experience such intimacy as this. I would not expect a thing of you, as such. I would be disappointed only in the event that I displease you.”
“I do believe we are past the days of you displeasing me.” Her smile widened, and one of his own took shape.
“So we are.” He walked around her, so her back was to him, and fingered the end of her long, thick braid. “May I?”
Elizabeth nodded her assent, and he cautiously untied the ribbon holding the braid together. He watched her hair come loose, and marveled-he had never before seen her like this. The candlelight made her hair shine with all the luster of amber.
When her hair was loosened fully, she turned to face him. The hands that had been in her hair came to rest on her waist, and he listened to her speak. “When we were children, Jane and I would brush the other’s hair at night.” He caught a glimpse of something in her eye that resembled a wistfulness, a homesickness of sorts. “The maid you assigned me-I believe her name was Anna-was most attentive, but I fear it was not quite the same.”
“Should you ever wish it, I am sure Georgiana would be willing to establish such a ritual, if you would be willing to guide her. She has been most excited at the thought of your becoming sisters. I know she is not Jane, but I am sure she would love to assist you.”
“And I to assist her,” Elizabeth agreed. “I would be happy to ask her-more than happy.”
“She could not ask for a better sister, I’m sure.”
“Nor could she ask for a more caring brother.”
Darcy leaned forward to let his lips meet hers. When he broke the kiss, he watched her eyes-those same fine eyes that had so ensnared him. Wordlessly, he moved his hands from her waist to the laces of her nightgown. All the while he held her gaze, and when her eyes expressed what he wished-hoped-to see, he untied the laces with slightly unsteady hands.
He would not admit to his hands trembling, but he underestimated her powers of observation. “Are you nervous, Mr. Darcy?” Again, the ceremony.
“Would you believe me if I said I was not?”
“I wouldn’t, if only because I know you better.”
“Then I will admit to some nervousness on your behalf. I fear I might cause you pain.”
“Others have endured such pain before me.” Elizabeth flashed that grin of hers. “I believe I will be fine. And yet you still seem nervous.”
“Though you swear you shall be fine, and that you shall not be displeased… I fear sometimes we shall have a marriage like my eldest cousin’s, where husband and wife can barely stand each other.”
“On the contrary, Fitzwilliam.” Her smile softened, and there was a certain playfulness to her tone. “I seem to have little difficulty tolerating the one person all others seem to be running from.”
The last of the laces came undone and the gown fell away and to the floor. The sight of her body was a revelation of the greatest kind. “Am I all you expected?” she asked, with a quirk of her lips, but behind the question he caught a hint of nervousness.
“All and more.” Darcy took her hands in his and guided them to the laces of his trousers. They untied them together-he noticed her own hands shook, which set his embarrassment at ease-and finally stood with all bare, each one observing the other.
Darcy raised the hands he still held in his to his lips, kissing them. “Shall we go to bed, Mrs. Darcy?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Fitzwilliam, I believe we shall.”
Fandom: Pride and Prejudice
Pairing: Darcy/Elizabeth
Word Count: 971
Rating: G bordering on PG (mild discussion of sex)
Warnings: Nada.
Disclaimer: They're in the public domain; I suppose I can do what I like! :)
Summary: Darcy and Elizabeth's first night as a married couple is a time for facing nerves and making arrangements for their future life together.
Notes: This is a preliminary version of something that will more than likely be straightened out and posted on ff.net later. I've had a woeful time finding information about Georgian-era nightwear, thus the undressing is a bit... well, vague. The period language might also be mildly inaccurate; I remembered as soon as I embarked upon this why exactly I've only written one other piece for this fandom. As is, this was an idea that wouldn't let me go, and fulfills a prompt for the Written in the Stars challenge at 5_prompts (K1. You'll have zero difficulty tolerating the same person everyone else seems to be running from.). It was also loosely inspired by John Donne. Go figure.
Darcy waited, watching the door of his bedchamber in anticipation. Elizabeth was long in coming and he was starting to believe she was anxious-perhaps even afraid. He had entertained a passing thought of her being nervous about their first night together as husband and wife, but never had he imagined she would not come to him.
He stood, intending to inquire about her whereabouts-he would go to her, perhaps, and assuage her fears, or if she wished not to see him, at least ascertain from her maid that she was well-but at that moment, the door opened, and Elizabeth entered bearing a candle and a smile that outshone the candle by far.
“You thought I was not coming?” she asked as she came closer, grinning impishly. It stunned him still how easily she could guess his thoughts.
He started to speak, but she set the candle on his nightstand and spoke again. “Or perhaps you believed I was already on my way and you were only too eager to meet me.”
“Which would you rather believe?”
“Oh, what I believe is no concern, sir.” He had told her many times since their engagement that she need not stand on ceremony, but on occasion she persisted, to tease him. “Of course, I would certainly wish you not think I would not come to you, as such a refusal would suggest a denial of the responsibilities of the marriage bed.”
“Responsibility suggests a requirement-a duty you are bound to.” Darcy reached for her hand. “Should you be uncomfortable, I do not wish for you to feel obligated. We can wait, if you so choose. You must be comfortable, Elizabeth.”
“I am the most comfortable creature in the world,” Elizabeth affirmed. “New as I may be to marriage, I am no stranger to the belief you will make me happy. Any nerves I might have felt are now allayed. However, should I disappoint you-”
This time his hand caressed her cheek. “Elizabeth. I am aware you’ve not previously experience such intimacy as this. I would not expect a thing of you, as such. I would be disappointed only in the event that I displease you.”
“I do believe we are past the days of you displeasing me.” Her smile widened, and one of his own took shape.
“So we are.” He walked around her, so her back was to him, and fingered the end of her long, thick braid. “May I?”
Elizabeth nodded her assent, and he cautiously untied the ribbon holding the braid together. He watched her hair come loose, and marveled-he had never before seen her like this. The candlelight made her hair shine with all the luster of amber.
When her hair was loosened fully, she turned to face him. The hands that had been in her hair came to rest on her waist, and he listened to her speak. “When we were children, Jane and I would brush the other’s hair at night.” He caught a glimpse of something in her eye that resembled a wistfulness, a homesickness of sorts. “The maid you assigned me-I believe her name was Anna-was most attentive, but I fear it was not quite the same.”
“Should you ever wish it, I am sure Georgiana would be willing to establish such a ritual, if you would be willing to guide her. She has been most excited at the thought of your becoming sisters. I know she is not Jane, but I am sure she would love to assist you.”
“And I to assist her,” Elizabeth agreed. “I would be happy to ask her-more than happy.”
“She could not ask for a better sister, I’m sure.”
“Nor could she ask for a more caring brother.”
Darcy leaned forward to let his lips meet hers. When he broke the kiss, he watched her eyes-those same fine eyes that had so ensnared him. Wordlessly, he moved his hands from her waist to the laces of her nightgown. All the while he held her gaze, and when her eyes expressed what he wished-hoped-to see, he untied the laces with slightly unsteady hands.
He would not admit to his hands trembling, but he underestimated her powers of observation. “Are you nervous, Mr. Darcy?” Again, the ceremony.
“Would you believe me if I said I was not?”
“I wouldn’t, if only because I know you better.”
“Then I will admit to some nervousness on your behalf. I fear I might cause you pain.”
“Others have endured such pain before me.” Elizabeth flashed that grin of hers. “I believe I will be fine. And yet you still seem nervous.”
“Though you swear you shall be fine, and that you shall not be displeased… I fear sometimes we shall have a marriage like my eldest cousin’s, where husband and wife can barely stand each other.”
“On the contrary, Fitzwilliam.” Her smile softened, and there was a certain playfulness to her tone. “I seem to have little difficulty tolerating the one person all others seem to be running from.”
The last of the laces came undone and the gown fell away and to the floor. The sight of her body was a revelation of the greatest kind. “Am I all you expected?” she asked, with a quirk of her lips, but behind the question he caught a hint of nervousness.
“All and more.” Darcy took her hands in his and guided them to the laces of his trousers. They untied them together-he noticed her own hands shook, which set his embarrassment at ease-and finally stood with all bare, each one observing the other.
Darcy raised the hands he still held in his to his lips, kissing them. “Shall we go to bed, Mrs. Darcy?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Fitzwilliam, I believe we shall.”