Mr. Darcy's Indiscretions

by Valerie Lennox

  She was alone in Darcy’s cabin.

  There was a window on the far side of the room—a small round thing up near the ceiling. Bright light was streaming inside. It must be late morning from the look of it.

  Elizabeth pulled the dagger that Darcy had given her out from underneath the pillow, and then she stood up, wrapping a blanket around her. It trailed on the ground as she made her way back to her room.

  She surveyed the room in wonder. There was no sign that anything terrible had happened to her. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but she supposed that part of her had thought that the place would be marked somehow, ruined by the awfulness of what had nearly taken place.

  But that was silly, she supposed.

  She shut the door tightly and rummaged through her trunk for something else to wear. It was ridiculous having all these evening dresses. No one here cared whether she was wearing long sleeves or short, and she hadn’t touched her gloves since India. She yanked something on, missing having a maid to help her dress, and then she tucked the dagger, safe in its little sheath, inside the front of her bodice.

  Having it made her feel safer.

  She looked around the room.

  If she were smart, she supposed, she would hole up in here, hiding away from the men who had threatened her, but she didn’t think she could quite bear it in here. There might be no sign of what happened, but that didn’t mean that she liked it in this dark, onion-smelling room, cut off like a prisoner.

  She touched the dagger, felt its cold hardness.

  And she walked down the hallway, free.

  She had a weapon. She could kill them all. She could start with Darcy and stick them all in the throat, let them bleed out—

  But she wasn’t at all sure that she could manage that. She remembered how she had struggled against the men last night, how they were so strong when she was fighting with everything she had.

  And if she killed Darcy, who would stop the men if she couldn’t?

  Well, perhaps she wouldn’t kill him. Perhaps she would just keep the dagger and only use it if anyone came close again. Ever.

  She emerged into the hold, an open space. Steps leading to the higher decks were in the middle of the room, and she heard a voice filtering down from above.

  Darcy.

  “…appalled at these men’s behavior, and if I find that anyone else threatens Miss Bennet, you’ll be dealt with in the same way.”

  She started up the steps. His voice grew louder and clearer.

  “We are going to China, as I’ve told you, and there will be women for everyone. We’ll stop at one of those Flower Boats in Canton for three whole days if it means I don’t have to worry about this kind of business.”

  She got to the top of the steps and was on the next level. Another set of steps would take her to the main deck. She began to climb.

  “You are men, not animals,” Darcy was saying. “And there is no reason that you should behave so. You can control yourselves if you set your mind to it. There is absolutely no excuse for this despicable activity.”

  A splash.

  She got to the top of the steps and came out on the main deck. The sky was blue, dotted with tiny white clouds. The water matched the sky, and she pulled in a long draught of sea air.

  Another splash.

  She turned, and then she saw that Darcy was standing in front of all of the men on the ship, who were gathered, looking solemn.

  In front of them were five headless bodies.

  Darcy was kicking them over board, rolling them under the bottom rung of the railing.

  Another splash.

  “So,” he said to the assembled men. “We’re clear, then?”

  There was no response from the men.

  Darcy turned, and he caught sight of her. He gestured. “Well, Miss Bennet, there you are.” He turned back to the men. “It shouldn’t be a problem for Miss Bennet to walk freely on the ship, should it?”

  None of the men were looking at her.

  “Oh, come now,” said Darcy. “You all have mothers. Sisters. Think how you would feel if one of them were trapped on this ship in the way that Miss Bennet is.”

  “There won’t be any problem, Cap’n,” spoke up one of the men, raising his gaze. “I think we all understand what will happen if there is.”

  “Good,” said Darcy, giving another of the bodies a kick.

  Splash.

  He smiled at Elizabeth. “It’s a pity, though, I must say, Miss Bennet. One of these men was the cook. I don’t suppose you know how to cook?”

  “Me?” she squeaked. The entire scene was too macabre to fathom. The dead men—where were their heads?—the casualness of Darcy’s demeanor as he disposed of their remains, the silent men who looked on. What was this place that she had been thrust into? What kind of barbaric world was she trapped in?

  “I thought not,” said Darcy, sighing. “They never teach gentlewomen in England anything useful.”

  “I can cook, sir,” spoke up one of the men.

  “Yes, I suppose you’ll have to do,” said Darcy, kicking the last few of the bodies overboard, one after the other. He clutched the railing and peered down into the depths, watching them sink. “And when we get back to India, perhaps we can pick up a few more hands.” He waved carelessly at the men. “All right, back to work then. Show’s over.”

  The men began to scatter, mumbling to each other, casting glances at her. They didn’t look pleased.

  Darcy wandered over to her. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

  She parted her lips, but no sound came out.

  “Told you I’d kill them for you.”

  “For me?” She shook her head. She didn’t know if she wanted these men’s blood on her hands.

  He sighed. “There’s really no pleasing you, is there?” He chuckled and went by her, leaving her there alone on the deck, in the brilliant sun and the fresh air.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “You can’t stay on the ship alone,” said Darcy. “Besides, you must be hungry.”

  Elizabeth stared out over the city of Canton, which looked to her like a labyrinth of canals and boats, almost the way she imagined Venice might look. She’d never been to Italy, of course, but she had read stories about that city, about the streets made of water, and this looked somewhat like that, buildings jutting up out of the ocean with docks lining the front of them, boats floating down the waterways.

  And in front of them, the place where Darcy said they were going, was a mass of boats, all tied together. It looked like a huge house floating on the water, brightly colored paper lanterns hanging from the shallow slopes of the roofs. They were called Flower Boats, apparently, but Elizabeth didn’t know what that meant or why they were called that. She didn’t see any flowers.

  “They have food there?” She didn’t see any food either.

  “Among other things,” he said. “It’s not what they are well-known for, but it is possible to get food there. I have been to this place before, and I assure you, I won’t steer you wrong.”

  “But you said that the men would find women here,” she said, eyeing him. “This Flower Boat, it is really a house of ill repute, isn’t it? A brothel. And you want to take me there.”

  He sighed. “The port of Canton, Miss Bennet, is hardly a place for a proper English lady. As for the whores, I can’t see why they’d bother you. A bit of bare female flesh must be something you’re accustomed to seeing on occasion, or do you shut your eyes when you dress?”

  She glared at him. “I hardly think I’ll be welcome.”

  “You can’t stay on the ship alone.”

  She looked around the deck. The men had all left already, singing bawdy songs at the top of their lungs as they rowed away on the lifeboats. She would be quite alone here, it was true. And she was hungry. But this was awful.

  “Really, Miss Bennet, visiting a brothel can’t be the worst thing that’s happened to you since you came aboard my ship.”

  Sh
e felt for her dagger under her dress and found it where it always was. Comforting and cold. “That’s true enough, I suppose. I shall accompany you.”

  “Well, thank heaven for that,” he said, offering her his arm.

  Together, they left the ship on a boat together. He rowed. She stared at the mass of boats and the lanterns. She was nervous.

  When they reached their destination, he tied up the boat, climbed out, and helped her out as well.

  She straightened, smoothing out her skirts, and when she turned, she came face-to-face with a fat Chinese woman, who was wearing a low-cut gown, her ample bosom mostly uncovered.

  “Mr. Snow!” said the woman delightedly, clapping her hands together. “I thought it was you.”

  “Snow?” said Elizabeth, arching an eyebrow.

  Darcy grinned. “That’s right. Archibald Snow, at your service.”

  The woman furrowed her brow. “I thought it was Arthur.”

  “No, Archibald,” said Darcy firmly, still smiling. “And it is lovely to see you again Miss Chen.”

  “Oh, you call me Li, I have told you before,” said Li. She turned to Elizabeth. “And this must be Mrs. Snow, of whom I have heard so much. I told you to bring your wife someday so that I could meet her.” She offered Elizabeth her hand. “Your husband is the most honorable man, never touch any of my girls.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “My—my husband?”

  Darcy shrugged at her.

  “Follow me, follow me,” said Li, turning and going inside. “I have a lovely spot for you both.”

  Darcy stepped close, speaking in her ear. “I’m sorry about that. She’s the one who decided I had a wife. I never even told her that.”

  “Why is your name Snow?”

  “Not so loud,” he said.

  Li turned. “You come, yes?”

  “We come,” said Darcy, dragging Elizabeth along with him.

  Li led them through a drawing room where Chinese girls in even lower cut bodices—some with their breasts completely exposed—were lounging on couches and sitting on men’s laps.

  Elizabeth couldn’t stop staring. She was electrified by the sight of it all. It was horrifying. It was oddly enticing. It was utterly disgusting.

  They emerged in another room, this one smaller and swathed in silks and gauzes, muting the lights. There was a low table surrounded by cushions.

  “Sit,” said Li. “I will bring you food.”

  “Thank you,” said Darcy. “This is lovely.”

  Li smiled again and left the room.

  Darcy settled down on the cushions and gestured for Elizabeth to sit next to him.

  She put her hands on her hips. “What is going on?”

  “Oh, you know I never give my real name anywhere. That wouldn’t make any sense, now would it? I don’t need to go broadcasting who I am. Sit down.”

  “Why does she think I’m your wife?”

  “Well, as I said, she got it in her head that I must be married on one of these trips, and I decided it was easier to let her think that.”

  “Why would she get that into her head?”

  “Will you sit down?”

  She sighed. She sat. “Why?”

  “I suppose because I never wanted to spend time with the women here. My men always partook, but I was happy enough with food and wine. Oh, and a bit of opium, of course. Having someone else tend the lamp for you is much more convenient than doing it yourself.”

  Elizabeth raised both eyebrows. “So, you come to a brothel, but you don’t actually visit the women here?”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “I can’t see why you’d behave that way.”

  He shrugged. “You wouldn’t think so, I don’t suppose.”

  “Well, it’s not because you’ve any regard for the women here, that I’m sure of,” she said. “You would have killed me if I hadn’t begged you not to.”

  “Oh, now is that fair, Miss Bennet?” He made a wounded face. “I have protected your honor and beheaded my cook for you. I really don’t know why you insist on thinking I’m a monster.”

  “You are a monster.”

  He smirked, running his fingers over the tablecloth. “Yes, well, this is a monster who has no desire to get random women with child. Unmarried pregnant women tend to do such dreadful things.”

  Elizabeth furrowed her brow. What was that all about?

  “Let’s not speak of this anymore,” he said, and he didn’t sound quite as cavalier as he had earlier.

  Li hurried back into the room with a pot of tea and some small glasses with no handles. She poured tea for them, smiling. “You make lovely couple. I am so happy to see you both together.”

  “Oh, thank you, Li,” said Darcy, drinking some tea. He turned to Elizabeth. “Darling, you must tell her how pleased you are to be my wife, how much you love me.”

  Elizabeth glowered at him. “You are always full of surprises,” she said.

  “She is a beauty, this one,” said Li. “You lucky man.”

  “Yes, I think so.” He looked at her appraisingly.

  Elizabeth found herself flushing, heat rushing to her face. He wasn’t supposed to do that, to look at her that way. She felt uncomfortable. She reached for the tea and took a big gulp.

  “You can’t keep your hands off her, I am sure.” said Li. “Kiss her all the time?”

  “All the time,” said Darcy. “Absolutely all the time.”

  Elizabeth wanted to hit him. Hard.

  Li lifted her chin. “You kiss her now? You two are happy, yes?”

  Elizabeth’s lips parted in horror. Surely, Darcy would never do such a thing. Why, to kiss a man that a girl wasn’t engaged to, it was tantamount to ruin.

  But Darcy simply smiled, leaned over her as if it were nothing, and pressed his lips against hers.

  The kiss was like nothing she had ever felt before. Darcy’s lips were surprising pliant and soft for the kind of man he was. They touched hers, and then pulled slightly away, and she found she was disappointed at their absence.

  And then his lips found hers again, and there was a little more pressure this time, a sweet urging to allow him access to her mouth.

  She parted her lips.

  The touch of his tongue against hers. A whirling sensation, like bright lights and movement and being sucked inside a vastness, a goodness, a delightfulness—

  He broke the kiss, pulling back. His brow was furrowed, and he looked troubled.

  She touched her bottom lip, feeling the absence of him there.

  Li clapped her hands together. “Ah, yes. You two are very in love. I can tell.”

  Darcy cleared his throat. “Indeed.”

  “I go to get your food,” said Li, smiling at them. She ducked back out of the room.

  Darcy fiddled with his tea cup. “Sorry about that. One of the first things you must understand about swindling is that you can’t back down from selling the untruth. You must act exactly as if you were the person you say you are.”

  Elizabeth sniffed. “Well… well, you must never touch me that way again.”

  “Of course not.”

  She was happy that they were sitting down, though, because a strange weakness seemed to have stolen over all of her limbs.

  * * *

  Elizabeth paced in her room back on the ship. She had been trying to sleep, but she couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss, about how nice it had been, about how it had made her whole body wake up in a way that she hadn’t even quite known it could wake up.

  It wasn’t as if she had never been kissed before.

  Well, she had never been kissed by a man. Like that.

  But she had kissed her family members as a small girl. Even now, when she saw her nieces and nephews, she would kiss their foreheads or cheeks.

  She had not realized how different kissing a man could be. She had not understood that there was so much more to it than… than…

  Oh, dear.

  The worst of it was, that was t
he only kiss she was ever going to have.

  Because she was never going to get married, and so she would never have a husband to kiss that way. She would never be a part of a real happy couple dining under the smiling eye of a Chinese madam—actually, that was a very rare situation, wasn’t it?

  But the point was, she was a washed-up spinster who had no prospects. And now, she’d been kissed by some pirate, a wretched man who murdered people and kept her captive and protected her from the men who had tried to molest her, and—

  What did the protection matter?

  He was still horrible. And he should never have kissed her.

  Never.

  But, oh, oh, she wanted him to do it again.

  No. No, she definitely did not want any such thing. That was quite out of the question. He was a scoundrel. He was too wicked for words. She would never let him kiss her if he tried again, and she had told him not to do it, and—

  Why had she told him that?

  What did it matter, really?

  She was a washed-up spinster with no prospects. If she wanted to go about kissing wicked men on the mouth, letting them stick their tongues in her mouth, then who would really object? As a young woman, she had belonged to her father, who hoped that she could find a good marriage and then he would pass her over to her husband. Then she would belong to him.

  But she was not to have a husband. She belonged to no one.

  “I belong to myself,” she whispered into the darkness. “And if I want to kiss Mr. Darcy, then I jolly well can.”

  But, of course, she didn’t want that.

  Not at all.

  * * *

  Darcy stood on the deck of the ship, staring out at the paper lanterns that lit up the perimeter of the group of Flower Boats, where all of his men were.

  For the first time, he was truly tempted to join them.

  He couldn’t, of course. Then he’d be leaving Miss Bennet alone on the ship.

  And Miss Bennet was the very reason he was tempted.

  He picked at the edge of the railing absently. It had to have been that night when she was nearly ravaged, when he saw her bodice cut open and one of her breasts…

  He never allowed himself to think long about the sight of it, because he was ashamed of himself, but he had noted that it was perfectly shaped, topped with a tiny pink, puckered nipple, just the size that would fit nicely in his hand.