A/N: A little bittersweet to post this... it's the last chapter. The published book has 34 chapters in it because I split Chapter 15 into 2. Thank you so much for reading and next you will see the earlier chapters of For the Love of a Bennet get adjusted and posted, and then . . . I will be posting all 5 of my Moralities of Marriage books here on Fanfiction because after For the Love of a Bennet... I will be writing the final book in that series! The preorder is up for both books on Amazon. I will eventually add the preorder for other venues for Book 6 of Moralities later this summer (they're a little more involved). Please consider following For the Love of a Bennet so you won't miss a chapter, or join my website elizabethannwest . com. I LOVE THIS CHAPTER!

- Elizabeth

ALSO MATURE.

Mr. Darcy escorted his bride upstairs to the hallway just outside his chambers. He paused a moment before the door.

Closing his eyes, he revealed his thoughts to his Elizabeth: "I once believed this day to be impossible."

Elizabeth shifted her weight nervously between her feet. "Is it possible one can burst from equal measures of trepidation and desire?"

Making her husband chuckle seemed to break his spell of melancholy. He took a deep breath, and then pulled on the stylized swirling knobs to open the unlocked doors.

Inside, the floor was covered by a lush oriental carpet with a large indigo blue medallion and rich, scarlet red making up the majority of the surrounding area. A standing, full-length mirror, not unlike the one standing in the small reception room, stood next to a small door leading to Mr. Darcy's dressing room. A small table and chair near the fire held a decanter of an amber liquid and two matching glasses.

As the couple walked into the chamber together, Mr. Darcy casually walked over to the spirit and raised the cut-glass vessel in an offering.

Feeling her heart race in her chest, she nodded and Mr. Darcy poured them both a glass. Returning to his wife, he handed her a goblet, and then absently ran his finger along the edge of his cravat, loosening the starch white fabric constricting his airway.

"To my husband, handsome, wise, and kind. A man I can respect above all others and one day, the father of our children," she said, her eyes locking with his.

Greedily, they both gulped from their glasses, with Mr. Darcy prepared for the stinging burn of the cognac, while his wife was not. She sputtered but recovered. Then she took another more modest sip, blinking furiously to stymie the response of her sinuses to the fortifying beverage.

He smiled at her, a smile so open and genuine that it made her heart thump even faster.

Once both glasses were empty, he swiftly returned them to the table.

Confidently, he approached her again, this time removing all pretense of what he desired next. Wrapping his arms around her waist, finally free to explore her body without fear of another interrupting their love-making, he pulled her into a deep and long, passionate kiss. Instantly he was rewarded with what he knew all along, that his Elizabeth desired him nearly in equal measure.

Her hands tugged and pulled, insisting on his coat find a way off of his body. As he stepped back to shrug off the heavy garment, he never took his eyes off her fetching form. She removed her gloves and reached up to take out the pins in her hair when his voice caught in his throat.

"Please, allow me," he pleaded.

She stopped and turned around so that her back was to him. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the sensation of his gentle touch, his fingertips grazing the nape of her neck, before extracting one by one the pins and combs holding her tresses in place.

When he was done, she sensed him moving away from her, likely to find a place for her maid to retrieve her items later. She could not resist easing the tension from her hairstyle and lifted her hands, to run her fingers through the sensitive scalp.

Darcy seized the opportunity to wrap his hands around her form, eagerly pressing and exploring her bosom, heaving with every breath along her low neckline as he found exactly the location to taunt her nipples just under her stays. She attempted to lower her hands from her curls, but he pressed his shoulder against them, keeping them in place as he kissed her neck, down to the hollow created by her collarbone.

"Fitzwilliam," she panted, as his hands brought her arousal to a height that made standing there without being able to touch him an agonizing endeavor.

He slowly dragged his fingertips up her neckline to finger the chain of her necklace. The diamond necklace he had purchased as a gift for only her.

"I wish to see you wearing nothing but this," he confessed, huskily in her ear.

Elizabeth blushed, and swept her hair to one side, allowing her husband to begin undoing the buttons that lined down the back of her gown. When the last fastener released, he easily brushed the sleeves down her arms until the garment fell into a puddle at her feet, leaving her in her stays, petticoat, and stockings.

Without thinking, she stepped out of the gown and crouched down to turn around and pick up the fine gown, the most expensive she had ever worn, to lay it across her arm. She looked for where to place it and realized her husband was laughing.

"Sir?" she asked, finally taking a moment to see his state of dress had disassembled to his lawn shirt untucked from his breeches, while his hands untied his cravat.

"Perhaps we ought to have called your maid," he mused.

But Elizabeth shook her head as she settled on laying her gown over the chair next to the cognac. Marching back up to her husband, she took over once he finished untying the knot and gently relished unwrapping the folds and folds of fabric around her husband. When it was at last undone, she pulled on one side to remove the accessory with a flourish.

He stepped closer to her as she held her prize in her hand, triumphantly.

"I believe we can learn to divest each other of our garments," she said.

"Or wear far less," he suggested, planting his hands squarely on her hips. As his thumbs tested a slight pressure against her pelvic bones, he caught her off guard by spinning her around as though they were dancing. The cravat in her hand whipped around like a ribbon, falling gracefully before her as she felt the incessant tugging of his strong hands on the laces of her stays. He leaned forward and resumed kissing the sensitive upper part of her shoulders as his nimble fingers loosened each criss-cross that had regulated her ample bosom. When at last she was free of the most constricting garment, she dropped his cravat to the floor as his hands lifted the corset-like stiff cloth over her head.

Before her arms could fall, Darcy's hands again found her breasts, once more exploring their shape and feel with only one layer of cotton between her skin and his. She surrendered to his touch. With a moan, she stretched out to run her fingers through his hair and pull him closer to her, arching her back and pressing her bosom squarely into his palms. He rubbed, and caressed, them before happily teasing her nipples with his thumbs.

She soon felt his pressing need against her bum, and she smiled as she slid her body down out of his reach. Despite his urge to rut his wife as quickly as possible, Darcy steadied his breathing and waited to see what her next cue would be. Her eyes flicked his four-poster bed, and he lifted his shirt up over his head, revealing his bare chest, firm and fit from his numerous physical hobbies. A patch of dark hair covered the shallow valley between his pectoral muscles, thinning down to a smaller line to the ridge of his breeches.

Elizabeth sucked in a breath as she involuntarily reached out to feel his skin, and he patiently waited for curiosity to be satisfied. She ran her hands over his nipples, slightly disappointed to see they were not as sensitive as her own.

This confused her, and she lowered her hands down the planes of his abdomen, along the sides of his obliques, and earned a guttural moan from him.

Delighted, she did it again, this time managing to slip her fingers just inside the waistband of his breeches before he moaned again, catching her hands by her thin wrists before she could touch the part of him that interested her most.

"Careful, or I shall spend," he warned, reminding her of their time on Oakham Mount.

She smiled and earned a kiss from her husband, leading to another, and another until he gently rocked her over to near the bed. He sat upon the edge, then positioned her just in front of him.

"May I?" he asked, as his hands gathered handfuls of her petticoat at her thighs and began bunching the fabric in his fists, lifting the garment slowly to reveal her stockings.

She nodded, again blushing as her husband held his breath to take his time in revealing her body to him. When at last the petticoat was lifted over her head, just as her stays had, she shivered. He gently placed a firm hand on her right hip and chuckled as her skin goose-pimpled under his touch. Her nipples, just at his eye level, appeared as tight little rosebuds and he could not help himself but lean forward and taste her skin with a flick of his tongue.

Her knees buckled, and he quickly steadied her weight with his other hand, nuzzling his head against her form to continue exploring her breasts with his mouth.

Elizabeth leaned her head back, mewing at his ministrations, and cried out at the pleasure of him using his teeth to increase the tension on her nipples. Expertly, as his left hand pulled against her body pushing away from his relentless efforts to please her, his right hand slid from her hip to urge her thighs to slightly part. Her arms grabbed onto his shoulders to steady herself and he felt her nails dig into his flesh when his thumb slipped between her folds to find the pinnacle of her womanhood. Stroking down, his other fingers soon nestled deeper between her most private area. Back and forth he stroked until she squeezed her thighs around his hand and rewarded him handsomely with an abundance of her essence. She was ready for what he needed most.

"Fitzwilliam!" she cried as he suddenly stopped and stood up to jerk the bedclothes back away from the pillows. He lifted her in his arms, then turned around to gently lay her upon the bed.

Panting, she closed her eyes and tried to calm herself as her husband remained away from her for a few moments. Feeling his body slowly cover hers, the heat between them making her skin feel as though she might burst into flames, she opened her eyes to stare directly into his. She could not hide her fear, even as his eyes showed nothing but the greatest love and admiration. He gently used a knee to nudge her legs apart. He kneeled between her thighs, with one hand again coaxing her folds to give more of the essence that would ease his way, and the other absently stroking his cock to still his urges. Elizabeth propped herself up on her elbows to see his body in its full naked form and he gasped at the pure look of desire upon her face. The diamonds fell fetchingly between her breasts, and he wished he could have commissioned a painting to capture her beauty just so, forever.

"Do you feel an ache for something more? Here?" he asked, sliding one finger into the small chamber that he would soon claim as his own. She tensed around his finger and his eyes widened at such a response.

"Yes," she answered, closing her eyes, and biting her lower lip. "I want more," she confessed.

His breath hitched in his chest as he involuntarily squeezed his member more tightly as she knew not what she was asking for, but would soon come to understand.

He leaned forward on his hands and slid his knees up under her thighs, rocking back and forth, and then taking one hand to run the tip of his cock down her folds.

She moaned as he did it again and again, gasping for his breath as he struggled to maintain control.

"This may hurt for a moment, but I am assured it is only this first time," he explained, through clenched teeth, as he steadily pressed himself into her folds, expanding the ring of muscles that had clenched around his finger moments ago.

The tightness and warmth of her womb threatened to make him lose his ability to stay his thrusts for her comfort. One glance at her face, twisted in pain, ceased his progress as he was neither fully inside, nor out.

"Breathe, my dearest," he urged, pulling back a bit and reducing the tension around his member.

She cried out at the sensation of his movement, locking her arms around his shoulders. The strength in her hands pulling him down and tightening her thighs around his hips, coupled with the sound of her pleasure mixed with pain, removed the last barrier to his control. With a primal grunt of desire, he pressed himself into her again, this time not stopping until his body was fully seated into hers.

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he felt overwhelming relief and guilt as she screamed first in agony, and then shivered into a moan of something else as he pulled out again.

This time, he did not wait and thrust into her, over and over, as they discovered a swift rhythm pleasing them both. Each connection between their bodies caused her less and less discomfort. She began to rock her hips against his. The deeper thrust that resulted, as she arched her lower back and dug her crossed heels into his sides, unleashed the pent-up arousal he had kept at bay. He felt as though she clung to him with all of her might, and the thought of such affection raised a tension in his loins that he knew would last only moments longer.

"Elizabeth," he managed, increasing his hold of her small body beneath him.

Her chin tilted up as a spasm coursed through her body. The sudden reaction of her body killed the last of his control and his seed began to spill out into her. She moaned as his next thrusts were stronger, but she didn't relinquish her hold on his person. He grimaced as his cock twitched inside of her, releasing the last moments of his climax.

Gasping for breath, he remained over her, kissing her forehead and the rest of her face, tasting the salt of tears and sweat on her skin. Elizabeth shuddered and shook under his body, and gingerly, he attempted to separate their bodies from their core entanglement. Her first reaction was to flex the muscles in her thighs.

He chuckled, the movement of such action and her incessant refusal to allow his escape, stirred the beginnings of a new arousal in his loins. But the fleeting desires of a man's spent cock can never fly to full sail.

"My dearest," he said, shifting his body with more intention, and she reluctantly released her legs around his torso. He rolled away to sit up, facing away from her, searching for a linen cloth to aid in cleaning their persons.

Stretching her arms above her head, Elizabeth yawned from equal measures of exertion and the stress of the day. "If my father's library is correct, this activity increases in enjoyment the more we practice." She propped herself up against the pillows to admire her husband's full profile.

Darcy peered over his shoulder to spy his wife, inspecting the bed linens between her legs baring the crimson stain of her maidenhood. Finding what he wanted next to the washbasin, he wisely dipped the cloth into the cold water before bringing it back to care for his bride.

"Is that so, my little Cecile?" he asked, calling her the name of Valmont's conquest in the slim gray books on her father's shelf.

"Oui," she replied, relieving him of the cloth he offered to comfort the parts that were very sore from their lovemaking.

He leaned in and kissed her shoulder, then slid next to her in the bed. With one exaggerated reach of his arm, he pulled the bedclothes over them to keep warm.

Elizabeth nuzzled down into the crook of his shoulder and sighed.

"I suppose tomorrow I shall have to begin learning my duties as Mrs. Darcy," she said, wistfully.

Fitzwilliam clucked his tongue. "I believe you superbly perform the most important duties of Mrs. Darcy," he said.

She tilted her chin up to see his face. "Yes, but surely there are other duties. The household accounts, the social invitations . . ." she trailed off when her husband rolled towards her, shifting half of his weight over her person once more. Quickly, he nipped at her lips, enjoying her twist and squirming against his form.

"Mrs. Darcy," he began, and she kissed him back.

"Mr. Darcy?" she inquired.

"You shall have all the time you require to . . . acclimate . . . " he stressed, clearing his throat as his body once more signaled his desire for his wife, and he gasped when her hand reached down to investigate the part of him that made her most curious. Under her touch, his member began to harden once more, but he gently moved her hand away. "I desire more of you as well, my dearest, but I fear we both need a longer rest."

He thought better for a moment when she began to pout. "Would you like a hot bath?" he asked.

Her eyes widened and she nodded. "Can we request one any time of day?" she asked, and he laughed.

"Of course, the kitchens keep water hot," he explained, kissing her forehead before rolling away and finding his breeches. He pulled on the cord to summon his man.

Realizing she was long past the point of falling asleep, Elizabeth sat up in the bed and pulled the bedclothes to her chest.

"Fitzwilliam, I don't want your valet to come in here!" she said, urgently, and he nodded to her with a serious look on his face.

"Of course not, I shall handle such discussions with him," Mr. Darcy explained, as a knock on the door interrupted the couple. He opened it but a crack and explained his desire for Miss Chardin to be summoned for Mrs. Darcy and for a bath to be prepared. But his wife's new maid had already seen to such a need and was waiting with a tub in the mistress' chambers.

Smiling, Mr. Darcy imparted the information to his wife, but Elizabeth still grew apprehensive.

"And where are my chambers to be? Pray, they are not on another floor!" she exclaimed, looking around the bed for her gown and petticoat, but not wishing to don either in her current state. Holding the bedsheet close, she gingerly stepped out of the bed and wrapped the thin fabric around herself. Mr. Darcy laughed at her impression of a Greek goddess and even aided the sheet in leaving the tuck of the bed, so that she may take all of it with her. Then he gallantly walked to the unassuming door closest to the windows. When he pulled it open, Miss Antoinette Chardin stood there obediently, with her eyes averted from her employer's state of undress.

Helping Elizabeth make the small steps her impromptu attire afforded, he reminded her of what they spoke of back on Oakham Mount.

"In all of our homes, your bedchamber and mine are connected."

Allowing herself to be placed into the care of her maid, Elizabeth marveled at the elegance and fashion of the mistress' chambers. The linens and furniture were not entirely to her taste, with the former Mrs. Darcy clearly preferred heavy, rich colors and Elizabeth enjoyed a pastel palette. But recalling her conversation with Mr. Lamont before her wedding, she realized that she no longer needed to worry about any purchases to satisfy her wishes.

"Ma'am, do you prefer rose or lavender?" Miss Chardin asked, before adding the scent to the warm, steaming water waiting for Mrs. Darcy near the hearth.

"Lavender," she answered, and the maid added drops of oil from the bottle in her right hand. Elizabeth neared the tub to look over and admire the portable copper vessel, suddenly feeling as though the day was a wonderful dream and she would be pinched awake at any moment. Miss Chardin unclasped the diamonds around her neck and placed them properly in the jewelry case. Elizabeth noticed the case held many more items inside, and she again became awestruck at the change in her station.

Sheepishly, Elizabeth finally relinquished the bed sheet that she had used for modesty. She tried to shy away from her maid as she felt an involuntary wave of shame, but Miss Chardin's constant professionalism soon put her at ease. Without a word, she removed Elizabeth's stockings, tested the water one last time, and then offered a strong hand to aid her mistress into the warm water.

Elizabeth sunk into the copper tub and inhaled the scented steam deep into her lungs. The business of making love to Mr. Darcy had made her body sore in more places than she first realized, accounting for their drastic difference in size.

Miss Chardin adjusted the folding screen to block the view of her mistress from anyone entering the room and Elizabeth noticed a letter propped up on the dressing table.

"Do I have post?" she asked her maid.

Miss Chardin nodded. "A letter from Mr. Lamont. He arrived after you and the master had retired above stairs and asked me to place it in your possession. He says he is happy to meet with you to discuss the Privilege at your leisure."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the diligence of the man, then realized he likely wanted to call only after the guests had left. It wasn't his fault that she and her husband had not waited more than moments after the final carriage rolled away to cement their union, privately.

"Ma'am?"

Elizabeth lowered her body until only her chin was above the water, easing the tension in her shoulders and neck. She tilted her head up to stare at the lovely fresco of cherubs painted in the plaster upon her ceiling.

"Mr. Lamont will have to wait for tomorrow or the next day for a response. I'm afraid I am in no mood for company other than my husband, at the moment," she said, giggling, and then allowing herself to giggle louder when she heard her maid chuckle with her in solidarity.

As far as Elizabeth Darcy was concerned, Mr. Lamont and the board had it all wrong. It wasn't about the money and expectations they held for her. The Darcy Privilege was being married to the best man in all of England: Fitzwilliam Darcy.