Hello lovely people,

I'd just like to take this opportunity to say a huge thank you to everyone who has favourited, followed and reviewed this story. As I have said on almost every occasion I had only envisaged this to be a short flash in the pan, but it quickly became dear to my heart and I'm so encouraged by the kind words you have written about it. As some of you know, I've been studying for a degree in English Literature which is why this has (shockingly) not been updated for more than two months now, I apologise for this. The plus side is that I have been studying the original Miss Austen so I haven't been entirely diverging from my commitment to this story. I do believe there was a certain chapter you were all waiting for which I intend to write for you know. Greatest effort has gone into making this seem authentic, but you may find that there are some minor discrepancies since this is the first time I have attempted to write a Regency love scene.

I intend to continue this beyond this chapter, if you all want it. I've thought of the way to end this story and I hope you will like it.

My author's note is the same as ever: I DO NOT own Pride and Prejudice, its characters or plots, all recognisable dialogue will be clearly marked in italics and credit must be given to the wonderful Miss Austen!

Do enjoy!

Elizabeth gripped her husband's arm just a little too tightly as they began to ascend to the upper floors of the grand house. On her visits previous, she had not given much thought to what they contained, being as she was, far too concerned with the aesthetic beauty of Pemberley's grounds and structure, but now on the arm of its master, she was consumed by the knowledge that those mysterious upper floors were the place for her private life with the man she loved. She was filled with a simultaneous burst of joy and fear. What would private life with this man mean? What did this wedding night demand of her? Of course, as she had proudly told Fitzwilliam, she was not as wholly naive as he may first have thought her, but she feared above all things, inadequacy. This feeling extended far beyond the humiliation she had felt at the attention seeking behaviour of Mary, or the disgraceful elopement of Lydia, it had to do with more even, than the vulgarity of her mother's public and private behaviour. Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn could quite hold the interest of her new husband in a war of words, she was, if she said so herself, a skilled orator and could articulate herself with wit and enthusiasm, but as a wife and a lover, she had no experience. Her cheeks flamed as Fitzwilliam led her up staircase after staircase as she thought about his comments on the fictions she had admitted to having read. The sufferings of those heroines will not be felt by Mrs Darcy. She could only wonder what Mrs Darcy would feel on this occasion, she could only blush as she hoped she would fulfil his expectations.

They walked along a corridor in the Western wing of the house, the quarters she knew she and her husband would occupy. His hand never left her own, which still clung to his forearm as if he was the only thing grounding her to the moment. Before he opened the door at which they had stopped, he turned to her, sweeping a stray tendril of her unruly hair from her forehead and kissing the place where it had been. "My Lizzy, you are quite aware, are you not, of what will happen between us?" he said, his question all concern for her.

"My mother and Aunt have done their best to prepare me, yes," she murmured, her blush deepening.

"Then you know that a man's love can be quite..." he paused, searching for the correct articulation.

She saved him the embarrassment with a small kiss. "Any pain I must suffer sir, I would suffer gladly for your love," she said.

"I would not hurt you if it could be helped Lizzy," he said.

"I wish Fitzwilliam, that my intentions had always been so honourable that I may same the same to you," she replied, her head lowered in shame. "I fear my unchecked wit has caused you much mortification and pain," she said.

"Lizzy, I trust as should you, that our union in this marriage quite absolves us our sins against one another."

"I am glad," she smiled as he reached for the handle of the door.

Elizabeth was quite silenced as she followed her husband into their marital bedchamber. Everything spoke of sumptuous luxury she could hardly comprehend. The Bennets of Longbourn were hardly the poorest of their community – much as their behaviour might suggest the contrary- but their father's liberal attitude towards their finances meant that they did not benefit from such luxury as she found herself bearing witness to here. The furnishings were quietly regal and the fabrics silently rich. The bed, which it thrilled her to know she would share with her husband, occupied the largest part of the room and was adorned with fine bedclothes the like of which she had never owned. She would be perfectly happy here, she knew.

"Does it please you, my love?"

"Infinitely, Fitzwilliam," she said going to the large window at the foot of the room and surveying the grounds which she must now call her own.

He watched her from their current distance, his eyes following the exquisite lines of her body as she moved, attempting to drink in everything which Pemberley had to offer her. This short separation alone was enough to make his body ache for her and as he began to walk towards her, he shed his jacket, the white shirt he wore beneath it stretching over his firm torso.

"Are you happy here?" he asked, his voice alarmingly closer than she had thought.

"I am, my love. I am in the company of the man I love and I am privy to the finest view of Pemberley there ever was," she said, her eyes meeting his in the dark reflection of the window.

"On the contrary my dear, I believe it is I who has the privilege of the finest view of Pemberley. Here, now – and that view is my beautiful new wife," he told her, his strong arms encircling her waist and drawing him closer to her than he had yet been.

She felt it almost immediately and was unable to contain the gasp which escaped her at that very moment, "Fitzwilliam," she muttered as her head lolled back towards his shoulder and she began to grow accustomed to the hardness of his very maleness.

"Do not be afraid Elizabeth, it is simply the way my body expresses my love for you," he said.

"I am not afraid Fitzwilliam," he said, allowing her body to relax against his.

"My beautiful wife," he muttered as he began to kiss her jaw, moving down the column of her elegant neck. "I love you, most ardently," he told her as he began to manipulate her, encouraging her to face him.

When she looked upon his face, his eyes were darker than she had yet seen them, his pupils so black she could not hold his gaze for long before she was forced to avert her own brimming eyes. The love he so clearly felt shone inescapably from his face and she was momentarily overwhelmed by it, until after a time, she pushed herself onto her tiptoes and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her husband's tense mouth. "I love you too Fitzwilliam, it is almost painful to me to love you this much," she admitted, delighting in the ability to say the words aloud. Here in this place, they were without chaperone or judges and could talk as they pleased.

"Then it is a pain we must share, my love," he told her, tracing his fingers along the delicate jut of her jaw and upwards, towards her temples and finally allowing himself to slide his hands into her hair.

Her chest heaved as she stood opposite him- waiting, longing. She was desperate for his touch, although she hardly knew how incredible it would be and yet, she appreciated the slow pace he had established. In the library, mere minutes ago, she had experienced his desperation, his frenzied loss of control and now he was behaving towards her with the upmost restraint. As his fingers began unfurling the many pins which held her hair in a style her mother had insisted would be most attractive to her husband, she allowed her arms to rise from their stationary position at her sides and placed her palms against the soft muslin of his shirt. She felt his breath tighten in his expansive chest and had she not been so thrilled at his reaction, she almost certainly would have recoiled, but she would not let her girlish fears best her in this moment and so let the soft skin of her hands acquaint themselves with the sinews of her husband's upper body.

She felt an incredible sense of liberation as curl by curl, he worked her hair loose and she felt it tumble onto her shoulders. As she dared to allow her hands to venture towards the fastenings of his shirt that she may expose the dark whorls of hairs which showed themselves vaguely through the thin fabric, she felt him pull on her hair, raking his hands through it, using it as leverage for his own manipulation of her. She was rendered powerless before him as he caused her head to be thrown back and he savagely placed erratic kisses to the exposure of her throat. Whilst her upper body was exasperatingly forced away from him, she found after those initial seconds, that this new position caused their hips to collide and once again she felt the undeniable and thrilling threat of his love. His lips ghosted lowered, skimming the detailing of her gown again and she heard an unwittingly satisfied sigh escaping her and she tried to hide her reaction. It was not ladylike behaviour to indulge herself this way and yet she could not help herself, his touch made her forget herself. She reached for his shoulders, trying to steady herself and after a few seconds more, he returned her to an upright position and pressed another kiss to her slackened mouth as her shaking fingers tried to unfasten his shirt. She found herself unable to concentrate, only able to think about how much she longed for his touch again.

"Ssh, Ssh Lizzy, there is no hurry," he told her, trying to soothe her evident frustration at being incapacitated in this way.

"I only wish to be a good wife to you," she said relaxing her hand on his chest.

"You are," he laughed and watched her face twist into that delightfully irritated expression she had cultivated so well "Lizzy you are," he said covering her hands with his and guiding her as together, they unfastened his shirt. He shrugged it off and she was unsure where to look. She averted her gaze, staring over his shoulder.

"You may look Lizzy; it is your right as my wife to know my body."

"I am sorry I am behaving this way. It is only that I have known you so lately and have only ever been in the company of others around you that I do not know what is appropriate, what you want of me."

"I only want you to be at your ease my love, I am your husband and I want only to know that you are happy."

She placed her hand upon his cheek, allowing her eyes to flick down his body as she searched his eyes for the truth in his words. "You are most handsome, Fitzwilliam." He was quiet and for a moment she thought he had retreated to that place deep inside himself, a place he went to when he was lost in thought, but then he moved his hands to her hips and she felt at her ease.

"I need you, Elizabeth," he told her frankly.

She let the words wash over her for a moment as she slid her hand to his heart.

"Can you not feel my nervous anticipation?" he asked as she felt the beat of his heart against her fingers.

"You need not be nervous Fitzwilliam, I am yours and willingly so. You must take of me what you need. Give me your love and I shall treasure it above all things," she said, tensing a little as his hands encircled her back.

"Turn around Elizabeth," he said watching her attentively as she revolved for him.

His hand ghosted her across her stomach and moved lower, resting just above the place which was increasingly burning for him. With his free hand, he began to attend to the laces at the back of her gown. He tried to concentrate but her slight form was so responsive to his every touch that it made the task incredibly difficult. A further complication was presented to him by the foreign fastenings on her gown. Secretly, he began to think that perhaps she had been right. He was unused to the height of female fashions and he lamented dismissing the maids for the night, but he could not let his new wife discover his ineptitude, particularly as she was waiting expectantly to become his true wife.

"Who was tasked with securing these fastenings?" he growled, his lips grazing the space beneath her ear.

"My maid. I am sorry. This gown was not my choice, I would have gladly had something in a more simple style, but my mother would not allow it. She wanted us to appear to our best advantage..."

"...and you do, but your poor husband is suffering for how beautiful you look," he said.

"What should we do? Should we not request a maid?"

"I will not be defeated," he told her moving away from her and going to the small writing table in the corner. "Besides, I have a solution."

She watched him making his way back across the room towards her, carrying something in his hand. A slight tremor of excited fear ran through her as she noted his expression. "Do you trust me?" he asked, flicking the blade from its enamel case.

She shivered involuntarily. "Yes," she said.

He raised the blade to the laces and she flinched. "Forgive me Fitzwilliam but when you mentioned pain, I did not imagine that..."

He stopped her words with a kiss. "Lizzy, I am not going to cut you. Trust me."

She held her breath, waiting. "Fitzwilliam, does it not seem like an awful waste... to ruin a gown so beautiful?"

"Well my Lizzy, I would hope that you never have occasion to wear it again," he said, kissing her from behind again.

"You are my first and only husband Fitzwilliam and I only wish to be your wife," she said pressing her body against his. "I am yours," she said again.

"I am glad," he told her and with one swift motion, he cut the laces on her gown.

Once the fastenings had been severed, the gown had nothing to support it and fell from Elizabeth's body leaving her in only her undergarments and mercilessly under his ever darkening gaze. She instinctively raised her arms to shield herself but he pushed them away. "Fitzwilliam, I..."

"You are beautiful," he said. He took her hand and led her towards the bed.

She slipped her feet out of the new shoes she had been gifted with for the wedding and her stocking-clad feet meet with the plush rug which adorned the floor. She said nothing as he sat on the edge of the bed and guided her into the space between his legs. He reached up for the laces on the back of her softly boned corset. "May I?" he asked tugging lightly on one of them.

"Fitzwilliam, my dearest love, you are my husband. I surrender my body to you willingly; I want to feel your touch."

"Lizzy, I would never use force; you know that by now do you not?"

"You would not hurt me, my love. I know that," she said, reaching behind herself she felt her way to his hands and pushed them aside so that she could unfasten her laces herself. "There," she said feeling the relief of the loosening of the undergarment.

It did not take him long to take over, alternating between loosening the laces and pulling the corset away from her body. Her eyes never left his as he continued to undress her and from the angle she currently found herself in, she was witness to the torment he experienced as he tried to decide whether he should maintain contact with her eyes or let himself roam her thinly veiled body. She smiled, knowing that she had power over her strong, proud husband even with her inexperience.

"Forgive me Lizzy, but I believe you were quite mistaken," he said, discarding the corset and pulling her closer still.

"In what regard?" she asked, sliding her hands into his hair and hearing his appreciation.

"Well my love, I do not believe I have had the pleasure of viewing your figure to its best advantage, until this moment. Like this," he told her allowing his hands to skim the thin veil of her chemise.

"Then I am glad to offer you such spectatorship," she managed, quickly losing concentration as he sculpted the slight curves of her female form. She knew, with some regret, that she was not nearly so womanly as her dear sister Jane. This was a fact the reminder of which had afforded Mrs Bennet many hours of pleasure. Lizzy could take grievance the displeasure this might cause her husband, but she could not regret her free spirit, which required her to be often out of doors. Her long rambles in the countryside were responsible for the unwomanly slenderness of her frame, but nothing gave her greater joy than to walk about the fields and lanes, nothing eased her mind quite so well and, judging by the way he had begun to caress her stomach and move further upwards with his lips, her new husband could have no complaints in this regard.

His hands had swiftly followed the path of his lips and in a matter of seconds; he had initiated the most intimate of his touches. His slightly rough fingertips caressed her breast through the chemise she still wore, sending shivers of pleasure down her spine. After a short time, he was guiding her down towards him and his mouth was drawing her in and she began to feel her flaming flesh rising to meet his hot mouth, quite desperately. She tried to grip his shoulder for support, but she was fast losing the ability to stand, her knees shook in a way she had never experienced until they buckled and she momentarily took leave of her senses.

When she was quite recovered, she found much to her surprise that their positions had been reversed. She was at the foot of the bed, her legs quite suspended over the edge and her husband was kneeling before here, watching her in perfect rapture. His hands were at her hips and his fingers caused the sensitive skin there to throb maddeningly with every touch. "You are mesmerising, my Lizzy," he said. He had already detached her stockings from the garter which held them in place and now worked to unfasten the offending item. "I have always been fascinated with the female insistence on so many undergarments," he seemed to speak more to himself than to her as he lifted her hips and pulled the belt from her, another of her mother's purchases for her. Elizabeth was not disinterested in the society of London, in fact she found it quite enthralling, but she had never avidly followed the fashions of the women there as Lydia and Kitty did and so shared her husband's curiosity for quite so many trappings, which her mother had quite insisted upon. "Is it your intention to deter me quite so permanently from my true purpose?"

She struggled to find her voice although she knew he required an answer. "What is your true purpose Fitzwilliam?" her voice sounded unrecognisable, even to her.

"I intend to love you most completely Elizabeth," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

She blushed violently, avoiding the eyes which bored into hers. "I could never prohibit such an honourable purpose my love," she replied concentrating on the feeling of her stocking sliding down her leg. Its twin quickly followed and she felt yet more exposed to his shameless gaze.

"You are exquisite," he muttered, leaning forward so that his lips might meet with the newly exposed skin of her long, pale limbs.

She was unable to suppress the gasp which surprised her upon the connection of his lips to her calf, but she quickly learned not to disguise her feelings. She could not. His mouth blazed a trail across her skin and he did not stop, higher and higher he kissed, grazing the inside of her knee and further. His tongue flicked out to taste her inner thigh and he did not hesitate when his lips met with the comparatively coarse material of her chemise. He slid his hands up to the hem and began to inch it up, little by little exposing her most secret self to him. She blushed a most endearing shade of crimson and threw her head to the side, unable to look at him whilst his eyes roamed her innocence. The air hummed with tension for several long seconds and she began to wonder if something she had done had offended him and was therefore caught off guard by his next action which caused her to cry out in unbridled pleasure.

Never had she known such a sensation, never would she forget it. The feel of his hot, mouth and probing tongue pressed to her inner self was like nothing she had ever imagined and her inexperienced body writhed with delight at the contact. He kissed her, drawing out her love for him and giving his back to her. She felt a tight, uncomfortable knot building in her stomach as he continued to tease her, until she could barely articulate a rational thought and suddenly like rolling thunder, its power was released over her body and she could only surrender to the oblivion which summoned her.

When she roused, he was staring at her, his fingers entangling themselves in her dark, intimate curls. "Darling Lizzy," he said looking at her most adoringly as he allowed his finger to push inside of her.

"Oh!" she cried as she felt him curl inside of her and her body reacted to him instinctively. He quickly added another, widening and releasing her and she wondered how anything this beautiful could ever cause her pain.

"Lizzy," he growled moments later, rocking back onto his haunches "I must have you. I must," his desperation almost brought her to tears and she shifted back a little, moving to the centre of their large marital bed.

"Yes," she sighed because even her innocence could imagine nothing more perfect than their union, "yes. Please Fitzwilliam, please," she begged, her eyes never leaving his as she watched him shed his boots.

He motioned silently to her rumpled chemise and she instantly fisted her hand at one of the straps, knowing what she must do. "Please Lizzy," he said "take it off," he told her, his own hands moving to the fastenings of his breeches.

She tried to concentrate on her own task, grabbing at the already bunched hem at her waist, but she found herself hesitating as she realised that in her removal of the chemise, she would be unable to watch him as he divested himself of the last barrier to their love. She did as he bid, ever the obedient wife and was pleased to find that she was still able to watch his breeches being dragged down his strong thighs. When he straightened himself, she was overwhelmed by the sight of him. The muscular sinews of his body and his proud, proud love for her. The realisation of it was both humbling and threatening to his inexperienced wife and she gasped again, in shock.

"Do not be alarmed Lizzy," he told her as he knelt on the foot of the bed and made his way towards her. "You have done this, it is for you," he murmured allowing himself to settle in the arc of her already welcoming limbs. "You are the mistress of me," he sighed, kissing her passionately.

"You are... magnificent," she told him shyly, her hands exploring his body.

"Lizzy," he said, his voice strained "I must be united with you, now."

"I am ready."

"I will be gentle," he promised.

"You are gentle my love," she said, her eyes expressing her love.

The moment it happened, Elizabeth was filled with raging, painful fire. Tears welled in her eyes and she was forced to avert her eyes. He was still above her, waiting patiently but painful seconds passed and she did not think it would end. He bent to kiss her again, silent assurance that she would survive this agony and slowly, she felt her body relax. White hot remnants of that pain remained for mere seconds more and then suddenly, she was overcome by a new sensation – the pure desire to love him, to be made love to.

"Raise your hips to mine Lizzy, it will help," he soothed and as she followed his instruction, she felt her body accommodate her loving husband.

They did not last long. He had been alone for many years and his release came swiftly. She did not yet know the pleasure of restraint and so succumbed when her body dictated, drifting in a strange place of his creation. She was unsure of what would happen next. Every minute that he stayed she expected to be his last. She did not believe that he truly meant to honour his earlier words now that she had been made his, but as if in answer, he pulled her to him, allowing her to rest her head against the firmness of his chest.

"Well Lizzy," he said kissing her forehead "I have found my haven in you," his tone spoke of untold pain and she wondered at the torment she heard in his voice.

"I am glad to be your haven Fitzwilliam," she told him, kissing him.

They laid in contented silence for a while before he spoke again. "You are quite well Lizzy?"

"Perfectly so. Now I quite feel I am the mistress of Pemberley," she said.

"As you rightly should Mrs Darcy," he told her, rolling her swiftly beneath him again, the virile passions of Pemberley's master once again becoming ignited...

Well, there it is. I know you've waited a long time for this; I just hope that the wait was worth it. Do let me know what you thought and as I said, if you'd like me to go beyond their wedding night. I hope you're still enjoying this.

Please excuse all minor editorial mistakes they are my own and I have tried my best to get rid of them all.

Thank you for reading,