As you can see, this story, Revelations sequel, starts with chapter 11. Chapter 1 to 10 are also published on fanfiction as Revelations. The reason being, that the next chapters contain adult scenes, which some P&P- readers might find offensive.
If you really want to get into the mood of this story, I would ask you to read Revelations first, for it explains some of Mr Darcy's less typical behaviour in the following chapters. Not having read Revelations he may seem a bit out of character with Miss Austen's original, since that tells us very little of his feelings about all that has happened before his marriage to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Also, Georgiana will have acquired a character out of thin air if you skip Revelations.
That only leaves me to wish you enjoyment of Revelations, and this sequel.
After a very short, but very enjoyable drive in the relatively unadorned but beautifully crafted carriage that Elizabeth chose, Darcy hands his bride out of the carriage, and leads her to his house, where the door is not held open by a butler, but opened with a key, by himself. All the staff is dismissed for the night, Georgiana has agreed to stay in Bingley's house this once, they have the house all to themselves, they are finally alone.
Darcy carries a little bag with some essentials that Jane has packed for her sister, and as the carriage is taken to the stables by the driver, Darcy lets them in, closes and locks the door behind them and leads Elizabeth to his own bedroom, a large, comfortable room on the first floor.
He helps her into a comfortable chair next, and kneels before her. She still looks like some princess, in that absurdly rich dress, diamonds strewn all over her hair. 'How are you, love?' he asks softly, 'you look tired.'
And she does, sitting there she seems ready to go to sleep, so vulnerable, he has never seen her this way, his beloved. Still feeling his usual reticence to touch her, it will probably take weeks to fade, he takes her hands and kisses both of them.
She smiles and replies, 'I am very tired right now, but don't worry, if you help me out of this dress and into something more comfortable, and I have the chance to freshen up a little, I will be perfectly fine.'
And with no little trepidation, Darcy helps his beloved to remove her fashionable veiled hat, then all the flowers and diamonds and finally also the bows and pins from her hair, making an invaluable pile on the little table. Then he unhooks the back of the dress, he knows Elizabeth is not used to having a maid and usually wears dresses she can put on herself, this must have felt like being imprisoned all day. And she does heave a sigh of relief when the back is released, asking, 'Do you mind if I undress right here and now? I suppose Jane or someone gave you one of my own dresses to wear tomorrow?'
Does he mind! He cannot think of anything he'd rather do right now than undress her, but he says coolly, 'She did even better, she packed a dressing gown for you. Do you want to wear that, as conciliation for having to walk around in that gilded prison all day?'
'I do want to wear it, Fitzwilliam,' she says, softly and so sweetly, who would have guessed she is so intensely sweet, 'but beloved, not as conciliation for being uncomfortable today. Your gorgeous suit must have been as uncomfortable, and you're not complaining. I have not had the chance yet to tell you how incredibly, heartbreakingly beautiful you look in it. But it cannot be other than very uncomfortable.'
She is right, it is, the stiff collar chafes the sensitive skin of his throat as it has all day, and his arms cannot move freely at any time. Even his chest feels constricted, fortunately he has his own dressing gown within easy reach.
The top of her dress already unfastened, it takes him a while to find the fastenings on the skirt of the dress, but he manages, and she allows him to lift the whole thing over her head, something she would not have been able to do herself, there is so much fabric, so many pleats and folds of it, it's like a labyrinth of soft white cloth. As he puts the dress away neatly, she'll be surprised how well he can do that despite employing a valet, she slips the dressing gown over her underwear, and he gets just a single tantalizing glimpse of her bare skin. But by now he's so uncomfortable in his own tight suit he can only think of getting out of his coat and shirt quickly.
He picks up his own dressing gown, and brings it towards her, then stands as patiently as a horse waiting to have its harness removed. As soon as her small hands touch his back, stroking him through his coat, his discomfort instantly vanishes, to be replaced by growing ardour and expectancy of things to come. He quickly sits down for her to help him remove his boots.
To get out of those knee-high boots Darcy is glad of her help, though he feels a bit ridiculous with a delicate lady in a dressing-gown pulling until they give way. Then he feels ridiculous without them, until he spies Elizabeth looking at him with desire. She wants him as much as he wants her, she doesn't care about seeing him in his pants and stockings.
Elizabeth knows how to remove a gentleman's coat by now, and she does it very deftly, but not in one flowing movement. No, she lingers in certain spots, feeling his chest under his shirt, stroking his shoulders, his back, his arms. Eventually the coat gets removed, and put away as neatly as the dress, and then she starts on his shirt. It has a lot of buttons, and when she has the top dozen undone, the chafing of the collar stops and he echoes her sigh of relief.
She kisses his neck, and his throat, gently, and says feelingly, 'You poor thing, that must sting, it's all red and sensitive. She drops a few more tender kisses on his poor maltreated skin, and lingers again, relishing his scent, still feeling his chest with his shirt still on. She is making it last, this first time, and to help her do that he kisses her ardently, feeling her body under the thin dressing gown, and smelling her scent with as much pleasure as with which she inhales his.
After the kiss she moves on, more buttons to undo, they take a long time because she kisses every bit of his skin that is exposed, a bit surprised to see hair on his chest, she has never seen a man bared. But she will, soon, the buttons are undone, and she helps him out of the shirt, forgetting to unbutton the cuffs at first but correcting that with her nimble fingers when the narrow cuffs won't go over his hands.
He does not put on the dressing gown yet, let her see him with his chest bared, let her feel the muscles and play with his little chest hairs. She puts away the shirt then strokes him eagerly, front, sides, back, kissing him again, and he stands still to let her feel him, despite being rather ticklish he manages to enjoy her touch tremendously, his ardour rising but not uncomfortably so, their small intimacies the last few weeks have hardened him quite a bit.
'You're gorgeous,' she remarks, 'so strong, so lean.' And she strokes him firmly, which makes him glad since too gentle a touch might tickle him, causing him to twitch at her touch, as a horse does when touched gently. Isn't it weird, that he knows exactly what a horse's coat feels like and how it reacts to touch, but has never touched a woman's skin before? But then she moves on, kneeling in front of him and unbuttoning his trousers, and he forgets everything as ardour takes him again.
None of the stories he read dealt with a lady of no experience undressing a man, will she be put out with what is carefully hidden down there? Should he do this in private? But she will find out eventually, so what would be the advantage? He cannot decide, so he lets his beloved make the decision, and she isn't planning to stop and let him change by himself.
She moves on steadily, buttons undone she carefully pulls his trousers down, difficult because they are skin-tight, Darcy feeling slightly anxious she might accidentally hurt him if she uses too much force, but as his erect manhood halts the descent of the tight garment, she leads the fabric around it very carefully, stroking his buttocks and legs in the process.
His urges are now mounting steadily, he can still think, but only a little, and of course Elizabeth notices. She lets him keep his underwear for now, and helps him into his dressing gown quietly, his ardour settling at a steady high point that is easily controlled.
He feels a little like the patient horse again, as he is led towards the bed gently, where his love sits down and invites him in her arms.
She really is taking her time, or isn't she? He finds himself kissed with ardour again, and then her voice sounds near his ear, decidedly husky, 'I have no idea how to continue, Fitzwilliam, I want to just touch all of you, but you keep freezing, trying to control yourself and then it feels like I'm teasing you. Can you enjoy any of it?'
That is a misunderstanding, she has no idea of his extreme ardour, she's so quiet and loving.
'I most certainly enjoy your touch, love,' he answers, slowly, 'but I need to control myself for if I don't, I'll grab you and do something to you that will hurt you. Not that I've ever done it myself, but I've found some books in my library, you know it was my father's before me, and his father's before that? They were hidden, but I found them after a short search.'
A broad smile spreads over her face, 'Of course, a book, how could it be different? Always improving your mind, Fitzwilliam, I should have known you'd do it reading even on this...sensitive subject.'
How could he not love her to bits? Was there ever a woman who would take the initiative in her wedding night, then admit she hadn't a clue, and show concern at him not enjoying it, then laugh at him for reading up on it? He leans over her with his chest on hers and kisses her deeply, and his weight on top of her clearly stimulates her immensely, she holds on to him so tightly, and answers his kiss so passionately.
When that kiss is done, he asks, 'Do you want me to tell you what I read, or do you want to experiment a little, and learn as we go?'
'Maybe a bit of both?' she offers, 'why not touch a little and you tell me when it is too much, and when there is something interesting we could do?' He answers with a big smile of his own, then sits up and unties her dressing gown. She does the same to his, and they don't put them away neatly, but throw them in a corner.
She shows him how to unhook her little corset, and when it is removed, he reverently touches her small, white breasts and smells and kisses them. Now he can sense a bit of true heat in her, she is so controlled, nothing seems to really disturb her. But no, she is stroking him again, and he realises she just shows her heat differently, she does feel it all the time.
Stroking every part of him, from his hair to his face, then down all the time, his neck, his chest, his stomach, she reaches his underpants and resolutely but gently takes them off him. His manhood stands out with his excitement, it looks huge this way, of course she doesn't know that it is usually smaller, she doesn't seem to be shocked or afraid, though, just curious and very gentle.
'Can I touch it? Will it hurt?' she asks, and he laughs and replies, 'You can touch it, the only very sensitive bit is the tip, the rest likes to be handled firmly, but beware: according to the stories I read handling it will drive me mad with lust. So let's take it easy.'
She hears the humour in his voice, but the controlled heat as well, and she very gently touches his manhood, stroking the soft skin, saying, 'It feels very curious, soft and hard at the same time.' Then she takes hold of it firmly, as he said, and he breathes in abruptly with the fervour it causes him. Of course he has done that to himself many, many times in the long and lonely years of his adulthood, iron self-control does have its limits after all, but having her do it feels ever so much better.
'Better leave that for a bit,' he pants, 'that's a bit much for now, the best of my stories always start with the lady. With your permission?' He moves in and removes her underwear, finding a patch of curly hair, something he did expect from his efforts to 'improve his mind'. Imagine anyone using that phrase ever again, it'll have both of them in stitches, and blushing the most brilliant shade of scarlet no doubt.
Beneath the hair she is supposed to have a very sensitive bit that probably doesn't have a decent name at all, the book uses only rude slang. He carefully pushes aside the hair and the fleshy bit covering it, and the most private bit of a woman is revealed to him. Just touching the flesh protecting it gets a very passionate reaction out of his beloved, she shivers and moans, and looks at him in wonder.
As he follows written instructions and bends over to take a taste of it, and another one, she groans and observes, huskily, 'I'll never laugh at you reading up on something again, Fitzwilliam, this is just incredible, so good. I wish I had thought of improving my mind on this subject myself.'
He pauses his ministrations, a bit reluctantly, for this is the softest flesh he has ever tasted and he wants more, make her groan again, and says, 'I can just imagine you rifling through your father's library. What if you had found something like that? At least I knew what my father was like before I read this, he used to encourage me to let go of my principles and just indulge myself, I knew there would be something like that even in his London library. It's pretty lewd, Elizabeth, though I'll give it to you to read if you want to.'
'I do, now stop talking and go on, I want more.'
Feeling elated, he replies humbly, 'Yes, mistress, with pleasure,' then makes her moan again, quickly finding the best place to touch from the intensity of her reactions.
It happens exactly as in the book, his licking makes her moan softly, then it causes her to shudder, and after some time of rising tension she suddenly has some kind of release, and she speaks again, heat still colouring her voice, 'That was the best feeling I ever had, incredible! What's next? I'm starting to get some faith in your book.'
'Well, I can do that as many times as you like, and you could do it with me, too. But that could make me hurt you again, for it might make me lose control, that happens a lot in the book. Of course those men aren't gentlemen, but let's not take any chances.'
Now he experiences some doubt, for what they usually do in the book is the thing that can hurt if the girl is untouched. But in the stories they were rough, and he is going to be very careful.
'Will you show me? I feel very flushed, and something burns down there, I don't think we're done here, and you're still very excited, I can tell.'
She seems eager, so he'll try, but, 'Tell me if it hurts, I don't want to cause you pain.'
Now he licks her a bit more until she is moaning again, and simultaneously feels a tiny bit lower down for a little entrance that should be there. There is, but it's very small, he can fit a finger in, but barely, and apparently he is supposed to put his manhood in there, all of it, that's obviously why men and women have those parts after all. It's not as if they haven't seen that happen on the streets, with dogs, or on his farms, with cattle. That must be what makes it so shameful, acting like an animal.
But that one finger makes her positively shudder, and it feels rather moist and slippery, so it must really be meant for that, and his body is insistently urging him to do it as well. It must be right then, and he'll try it when she is so heated she may not feel the pain. That it is going to hurt is obvious, it is really quite a bit too small to fit in.
He cannot really stop himself anymore, feeling the warm inside of her, tasting her, it has to be now! And he carefully and deliberately moves up a little bit, spreads her legs further to fit himself between them, and guides his manhood into that tiny opening.
As he feels her warmth closing in around him, he loses all coherent thought in ecstasy, that's so good, he wants to push himself in harder, and further, lose himself totally in this incredible feeling.
But his innate control takes over, that would be what hurts his love, letting go and forcing himself in, he needs to be gentle and check how it feels to her. He looks at her face, she is not suffering at all, she is in as much ecstasy as he is, opening herself to him, moaning, and when he seems to be unable to go in any further, it's just too small, she grabs hold of his buttocks and pulls him in all the way with force.
His feelings explode, and he wants to feel that again and again, starting to obey his urges once more, moving up and down, feeling and hearing Elizabeth's approval and responsiveness, as she says, 'It doesn't hurt, truly, you can do it harder, and faster. I want you to, it's so, so good.'
So he finally lets his control go altogether, giving in, plunging in and out with relish, until they both become frantic with lust and indeed behave much like beasts, rutting and panting together until she arches and cries out, seconds before he himself is overcome by an ecstasy so intense it is almost painful, and a blessed release immediately after.
His fervour has caused him to exert himself beyond his physical limit, and he is out of breath and his stomach hurts. But he doesn't care about that at all as he lets himself fall on the bed beside her, panting and feeling more than a bit awed at the same time.
She snuggles against him and gives him little kisses, looking at him with a very soft expression, stroking his sweating, heaving body, and she observes, 'You're so smart to read up in situations like these.'
Rolling towards her, he strokes her hair and her face, feeling very pleased at her compliment, and sated, very sated and actually, rather sleepy.
He doesn't remember any of those stories warning him he will fall asleep immediately after making love, but there is no help for it now, he's not going to stay awake whatever he tries.
Last thing his conscious thought registers is Elizabeth covering him lovingly with a blanket, and then he's fast asleep.