by Abbey North
One night, shortly before Jane was to marry, she laid in Darcy’s arms. She spent more and more time with him in the evenings, coming to his bed earlier and leaving later, until she was starting to flirt dangerously close with getting caught. She could not deny that lying with Darcy was most pleasurable, regardless of the circumstances.
It made her somewhat careless, but tonight, her reputation was on her mind, after she had barely beaten Maeve back to her room just that morning. The maid appeared capable of discretion, but she preferred not to stoke the fires of gossip.
“Shall I be leaving Pemberley when Jane departs to marry Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy?” She couldn’t yet bring herself to call him by his first name, though he was liberally using Lizzy with her, and he’d even slipped up and used Elizabeth without the honorific of Miss a few times in front of others.
Jane had noticed but had not yet commented. It had led to speculative looks from her sister that she did her best to avoid. She certainly did not want to explain why Darcy felt free to use her given name so liberally. Jane, being the romantic, had no doubt concocted the fantasy that Darcy was still in love with her and considering pleading for her hand in marriage again as well, but she did not broach the topic. Lizzy certainly hadn’t done so either.
“No, not yet. I am not quite sated with you.” He sounded slightly discomforted by that admission. “I thought you would be out of my system by now, Lizzy.”
She flinched at the harsh words, which underscored her sole reason for being here. A deep breath pushed aside her melancholy. “Yes, you mentioned that at the beginning of our arrangement. I believe you thought you would soon grow bored with me, because I lack passionate technique.”
She struggled to sound emotionless, but there was a hint of laughter bleeding through her tone. Lizzy had discovered she had many talents in the bedroom, and she doubted Fitzwilliam had any reason to feel dissatisfied or bored with her. She was a quick study in many things. After all, under Georgiana’s tutelage, she was becoming truly proficient with the pianoforte. And under Mr. Darcy’s tutelage, she was becoming a consummate mistress.
She voiced a thought that had come to her days before, mostly in jest. “With all you have taught me, Mr. Darcy, I should likely be able to set up my own brothel once our acquaintance is over.”
He stiffened, and there was a growl in his tone. “Never.”
She turned on her side, freely admitting to herself she wanted to provoke some kind of reaction. “That is most unfair. Why should you dictate to me what I do after I am finished as your mistress, sir? It is a viable career path and a better alternative than becoming a governess or an unsatisfied spinster. I should not wish to give up sex now that I know how tolerable it can be.”
She had no intention of ever pursuing such a course, but the idea had occurred to her a few days ago, and she had laughed about it off and on since. Elizabeth Bennet, Madame to the Ton’s gentlemen. She could not picture it, other than in an amusing fashion, but Mr. Darcy certainly didn’t seem to be sharing the joke.
“There is little honor in such a profession.” He still sounded gruff.
She shrugged a shoulder. “There is little honor in becoming one man’s mistress either. Why not hedge my bets and ensure I have more than one generous benefactor, sir? It is most logical and a sound plan to me. After all, I shall not marry, so why should I not do such a thing?”
He was scowling greatly now. “I forbid it.”
Lizzy had to resist the urge to laugh, quite enjoying his display of possessiveness. Mr. Darcy revealed no hint that he still cared for her, except in moments like this and in moments of passion. Only when he was feeling possessive and jealous did she have a sense that he might still see her as more than just a warm and willing body.
She affected a laugh. “Perhaps I shall not go for madam of a brothel. I am sure there are a great many rich men who would enjoy having a plaything like me on their arm.”
He scowled. “You would be reviled by society. You are not even a widow, which would allow you the discreet freedom to become someone’s mistress.”
Lizzy licked her lips, pretending like she was giving his point great thought. “Perhaps I can find a lesser gentleman who is quite elderly. I shall marry him for a short amount of time, feigning a headache each night to avoid the conjugal bed, and pursue more licentious goals after he passes. Yes, that does sound like quite a sound plan. Thank you for your assistance in helping me design it, Mr. Darcy.” She had to bite hard on her tongue to keep from giggling at the way his expression turned thunderous.
“You are a reckless wanton, and you make foolish decisions. You cannot be trusted with your own choices.” He was angry and rough as he said that, and he reached for her with a darkness to his passion. He was revealing himself more than he probably realized with his reactions.
She reveled in it, even in the roughness of his touch as he seemed determined to remind her to whom she belonged, at least for now. She made no move to resist when he pulled her underneath him so his mouth could take rough possession of hers.
Chapter Six
Anger thrummed through Fitzwilliam, and he could not fight it back. None of his upbringing would allow him to stem the tide. Even mentally reviewing fencing positions did nothing to help him regain control.
The very idea of her allowing another man to hold her like this, to kiss her and sink inside her quim, made him literally see red. In his efforts to abolish the image from his mind, he pressed his mouth far too firmly against hers. He knew he was behaving in a wild and uncontrolled fashion, yet he couldn’t bring himself to pull back.
He expected her to protest. Surely, a peep or squeak from her would allow him to control this anger merged with raging passion. Yet, Lizzy did not protest. Her mouth molded to his, her kisses just as rough as his.
He wanted to punish her for such thoughts. The idea was crystal-clear in his mind, and he could not rein in the impulse. He grasped her hair and flipped her over onto her stomach. Her strands remained wrapped in his fingers, and he tugged back her head to place a punishing kiss on her neck. He nipped hard enough to make her cry out.
It would have been enough to cool his anger if she had not lifted her hips and thrust back against him as he left the mark on her skin. With a fierce growl that sounded more animal than man, he pressed her face down into the pillows and trapped her wrists under her chest. They were both nude, so it made it very easy to part her thighs and position himself between them.
“You shall not allow another to touch you, Elizabeth.” With that edict, he lined up his prick and found the slick heat of her quim. She was wet and ready for him, offering no resistance as he pushed deeply into her.
He kept his hand on her upper back, forcing her to stay in that subservient position. He could not resist the lovely temptation of her back, and he bent his head to bite her. She yelped, but her quim pulsed with another rush of arousal, and she thrust harder against him. He bit her again and again, not leaving deep enough marks to break skin, but certainly leaving enough impression that they would be there for a while.
Excellent. He wished to mark Miss Bennet as his own. He was not so far gone as to inflict permanent damage, but he reveled in the animalistic pleasure of leaving his mark on her. His teeth left delicious impressions in her skin that would remind her to whom she belonged, at least for now.
The thought of giving her up made him bite her again, this time on the shoulder. She gasped, and there was a hint of pain in her response that allowed him to pull back. His hips still pistoned as he thrust in and out of her hard enough to make the headboard bang against the bed with each push, but he gentled slightly, regaining a semblance of control as his orgasm approached.
He released his hold on her upper back so he could slip a hand between their bodies. She was dripping with nectar and mewling in her passion as she pushed back against him desperately. He sought out her pearl and rubbed it with more force than usual.
“Oh, Darcy. More.” She was almost sobbi
ng the request.
He pressed more firmly and took her with even more force that she matched thrust for thrust. When she convulsed around him, the sweet spasms of her tight sheath were enough to undo him. He barely managed to pull out and leave his seed on her inner thigh instead of inside her. There had been no time for the condom. He had been too consumed with his need to claim and mark her.
She suddenly burst into tears, and his groin pulsed as he pulled away to roll over, pulling her into his arms. “I am so sorry, Lizzy. I lost control, love.” He pressed gentle kisses to her face, abruptly realizing she never initiated such contact between them anymore. He recalled the words he had spoken to her the first night they had met in passion, warning her not to feign affection. He groaned at the way he had undoubtedly impressed upon her to keep such gestures to herself.
He had mucked up their passion with that dictate and now his rough possession of her. The right thing to do would be to immediately send her away from Pemberley, along with an even more generous settlement. He should sign over the townhouse to her uncle, to be held in trust for the Bennet women.
He was in the midst of grand plans while trying to decide how he could bear to part from her when she started laughing. He frowned in confusion. “Are you…unwell?”
She giggled and looked up at him, turning her face from the pillow. “I do not need a room in Bedlam, if that is what you mean. I am just emotionally overwrought. That was intense, Mr. Darcy. I had myriad emotions overwhelm me in the aftermath. Truly, I am fine.”
Seeing the sincerity in her expression, he nodded. Slowly, he unclenched, thus allowing her to relax against him. “I do apologize for my ferocity. I have no inkling what came over me.”
She sniffed. “Of course not. Do not fret. I rather liked it.” She seemed a little shy making that admission.
Darcy’s stomach churned, torn as he was between convention and his own enjoyment. “I must confess I enjoyed losing control and marking you as well, Lizzy.”
Her eyes widened. “How did you mark me?”
He experienced a surge of shame. “I have left indentations of my teeth in your delicate skin.” He lifted a hand to guide her fingers to her shoulder, so she could feel the deepest one for herself. “I was a cad.”
She grinned. “Having a cad between the sheets keeps things interesting, Darcy. I rather hope to see more of him before my contract ends.”
The mention of her contract ending sent a pang through his chest, but he struggled to screen that from his expression as he grasped her wrists in each of his hands, pinning them to either side of her head. “Your wish shall be accommodated forthwith, Lizzy.”
Chapter Seven
She woke the next morning in her own bed but had no memory of returning to it. Had Mr. Darcy carried her through the passageway? After his rough attentions, which had been utterly satisfying for both of them, she had collapsed into a heap of exhaustion.
Perhaps she should not be surprised to have no memory of how she’d reverted to her bed. She was almost admiring the fact that Darcy had the energy to convey her back to it when her door opened. Maeve bustled in with a breakfast tray, and she also had two letters for Lizzy.
Lizzy sat back so Maeve could put the tray on her lap, and she reached for the letters first thing. One was from her mother, though the address for Pemberley was nearly illegible. It had been sent days before the second one, penned in Mary’s hand.
As she started to eat, adding clotted cream to her scone, she read her mother’s missive. At first, it was full of inconsequential matters and lots of detail relating to the trousseau she was helping Jane select so she could properly be Mrs. Bingley. Lizzy winced at the idea that it was on Mr. Darcy’s stipend that Jane’s success hinged, but she consoled herself with the reminder that she was paying most handsomely with her body for his generosity.
Halfway through the letter, she dropped the scone to the tray as she gasped.
Oh, the most unfortunate of events has occurred. I do not see how we shall survive it. Lydia has eloped. I allowed her to go to Brighton with Harriet Forster and Colonel Forster, thinking it would be a harmless diversion for her after so much sadness has befallen the family in the last month. She has met her most wicked ruination. She fled with an officer by the name of George Wickham.”
Lizzy shook her head, quickly reading the rest of her mother’s letter. It was mostly rambling and focused on how her mother would be ruined, along with her sisters’ prospects. There wasn’t any useful information, so she quickly set it aside and opened Mary’s letter.
Thankfully, Mary was far more clearheaded and able to quickly convey the particulars. Lizzy rushed out of bed, throwing on a morning dress she’d worn yesterday with little regard for undergarments or grooming. Instead, she ran across the hallway, calling Jane’s name.
Jane appeared in the doorway, still wearing her dressing gown, though her hair was groomed. “Lizzy, whatever is the matter? Why are you in such a state of dishabille?”
“Oh, that foolish Lydia. She shall be the downfall of us all.” Lizzy’s eyes burned with unshed tears, though she couldn’t decide if they were from anger or disappointment. There was a strong measure of fear for her sister as well, knowing what she did about Wickham.
Jane took the letters, and when she’d read them, they collapsed into each other’s arms. Neither was sobbing, but they were both as upset as one could be while still controlling outward signs of the devastation within. Lizzy wished she could comfort her sister, but she had no words of solace at that moment.
“Ladies? What is happening?”
Jane pulled back from her sister as she let out a startled gasp and immediately covered her chest, since she was not yet wearing stays or her chemise. Jane withdrew behind the door, though she peeked her head out.
Mr. Darcy stood there, an expression of concern on his face. “Maeve alerted me that there is some upset. What troubles you both?”
Lizzy could no longer hold back tears. She thrust the letter at him and turned away, hiding her shameful crying in her hands.
She knew the moment he read Wickham’s name, because Darcy let out a strangled sound of his own that sounded like a curse word. Then he folded up the letters. “This is dreadful. Most concerning. If you will excuse me, ladies, I have matters to which I must attend.” With a hasty shove of the letters back to Lizzy, Darcy turned on his heel and walked away.
Melancholy filled her, and she sniffled. “We shall be leaving Pemberley shortly, Jane.”
“Yes, we must return to London to be there to soothe Mama.”
She nodded, though that wasn’t what she really meant. It was obvious from Darcy’s reaction that he wanted to distance himself from them as soon as possible. She didn’t have the heart to point out to Jane that her marriage contract with Bingley would likely be severed due to Lydia’s foolish and rash actions.
Her own more scandalous contract with Darcy was surely at an end as well. She should be relieved of that, especially since it included the guaranteed payout to keep her family going, but only bitter regret filled her as she returned to her room and oversaw Maeve packing her things into her trunks. She left the new garments and baubles Mr. Darcy had provided for her at his insistence, taking only what had been hers when she’d arrived.
They had left Pemberley without objection on anyone’s part, though she had longed to see Mr. Darcy at least once more. She parted with Georgiana with wet eyes, but both women had managed to maintain their composure. She felt sick when she promised to see Georgiana again soon, certain Mr. Darcy would never allow the continued association between them.
She had been surprised he allowed them to have a flourishing friendship while at Pemberley as it was, since she was there as his secret mistress, and he surely regarded her as a questionable influence on his sister.
They arrived at the London townhouse after an overnight stay at an inn. Lizzy had commandeered one of the coach-and-four from Pemberley, along with a footman to act as driver, reluctant as h
e had been, and she did so with little guilt. Under the circumstances, she doubted Darcy would censure the use of them, though he might be irritated about the loss of his man for a few days. Even now, the footman-turned-driver was headed back to Pemberley with the coach-and-four.
And she and Jane stood on the doorstep of 14 Glasser Place, which was the lovely townhouse Darcy was allowing her mother and sisters to use indefinitely. That was written into their contract, so that wouldn’t change even in light of Lydia’s horrid behavior.
It was likely they would either be confined to the townhouse at all times, due to their drop in society once word leaked out, or they would find it necessary to flee, perhaps even as far as the Colonies, to escape the bad reputation Lydia was forcing upon them all.
The housekeeper, a woman whose name Lizzy had forgotten, opened the door for them.
“Mrs. Green, how is our mother?” asked Jane.
The housekeeper appeared worried. “She is not well, Miss Bennet. Not well at all. She has taken to her bed, and even frequent laudanum doses are doing little to settle her nerves.”
Lizzy flinched at the thought, having seen more than a few people succumb to the allure of laudanum, even as a well-bred lady. It was often a poorly kept secret because users habitually seemed vacant and jittery, relying on laudanum to get through the day.
She did not wish to see her mother reduced to that. “You will start decreasing the amount of laudanum she receives immediately, Mrs. Green. If it’s doing little to settle her nerves, there is no reason to give her much. We do not wish her to form a dependency upon it.”
Mrs. Green nodded her agreement, and she seemed relieved. “I had hinted at that suggestion to your sisters, Miss Bennet, but I fear neither of them understood the subtlety of my indications. It is not my place to speak out of turn and suggest outright that they are overmedicating your mother.”