Charlotte, Sir Richard... And Mr Darcy

by C P Waterman

  Accordingly, her hostess and lifelong friend Elizabeth Darcy - whom she called Liza - allowed her to stay at the East Lodge, a gamekeeper’s house on the estate so that she would remain unseen by Lady Catherine. Whilst there, she occupied her time sketching the beautiful scenery - taking in the lake, the Grecian temple, and the park - as well as the great edifice that was Pemberley. It was at the West Lodge that she first met Sir Richard, and it quickly became apparent that he and Mr Darcy were secret lovers. And she became Sir Richard’s lover, too.

  Unknown to them, she began drawing pictures of the two men making love in the woodland; she had to confess to herself that she found her work sexually provocative and, during an incident involving an inquisitive maid at the house, she risked being compromised when some pages of her sketchbook were glimpsed. She felt that she had to leave immediately and return home to avoid any shame. Sir Richard generously offered to escort her back to Kent and, when she discovered her husband had extended his absence from the parish, she accompanied Sir Richard to Oakhurst, his own house not far away. In the turmoil of her removal from Pemberley, he had discovered her secret drawings and was impressed by their quality. He knew that Mr Darcy collected such works and considered her art might be marketable.

  Meanwhile, Mr Darcy had accompanied Lady Catherine from Pemberley back to her home at Rosings and was staying with her for a short time. That morning, he had come to visit Sir Richard at Oakhurst but, now he had departed, she was alone in her chamber with Sir Richard and she pulled out her sketchbook, ready to commence another drawing.

  “It’s a lovely day out there,” he said as he looked out of the window. “It seems a shame to spend the time here with you, posing naked, when we could be out riding in the park. I have a side saddle you can borrow.”

  They returned downstairs; the ostler produced Sir Richard’s beautiful grey mare and a gelding for her use. It was not too long before they were galloping out into the park.

  “Where are we going?” she called as they set off.

  “There’s a quiet, deserted house at the far end of the estate. Nobody lives there now, but I use it occasionally when I want to be alone or whenever I entertain friends… privately. We won’t be disturbed.”

  From this, she concluded that he brought Mr. Darcy here whenever they wanted time to be alone together.

  As they approached the building, memories of her stay at Pemberley came flooding back; the place resembled the East Lodge on the Darcy estate, where she had stayed to avoid contact with Lady Catherine. It was idyllic here, and all that was missing was a lake, which had set the crown on Pemberley’s parkland. Stepping down from the horses, he hid her gelding in a shed on one side of the building, saying that he wouldn’t want her presence compromised by any sudden passer-by; they would notice the horse bore a side-saddle and people might make their own deductions. Once inside the building, following Sir Richard, an overwhelming feeling of lust burst through her. She wanted him, and she wanted him to know it.

  “And here’s the bedroom,” he said, opening an internal door. It contained a large double bed and a few other items of furniture.

  Here, then, was that secret place where he and Mr Darcy engaged their passion together. And she craved some of that passion with Sir Richard now. She felt unable to wait much longer. She got on the bed, resting on all fours, and pulled up her skirt at the back to reveal her buttocks. She put her thighs together tight to hide her private parts, and wondered if that portion of her body resembled a man’s butt from where he stood.

  “You could pretend I’m Mr Darcy, and take me from the rear if you wanted,” she suggested. She pulled her butt cheeks apart to provide him with easier access to her anus.

  She watched as he unbuttoned the drop-front of his breeches; his erect cock sprang out ready. He knelt on the bed behind her, and she felt him try and push himself into her rectum. “You’re too small in there, and I’m too excited today,” he said.

  “We’ve done it this way before. In the Grecian temple at Pemberley, remember?”

  “My cock was a little softer then. It’s too thick today. Let me come between your legs. That’s almost the same, isn’t it?”

  She soon felt his erection pushing between her thighs; she opened them a little for him to gain access. Looking down, she could see the swollen head of his penis peering just below her own genitalia. They began to push themselves against each other in an excited rhythm; as soon as his breathing grew louder, she put her hand in front of her crotch, ready to catch his semen when it burst out of him. Then she would rub his man-cream against herself and come to her own peak of ecstatic bliss.

  He groaned, and she watched as his seed shot out and fell into her waiting palm. She smeared it over her crevice, lubricating her tiny bud. She was ready for orgasm.

  The frenzied rapture arrived; the delicious pleasure was everything that she had anticipated, but it was rudely cut short by a loud banging on the front door.

  “Stay there,” he said softly. “Only one person knows I’m here. And he won’t disturb us without a good reason.” Sir Richard quickly got dressed again. Tucking his shirt into his breeches, he closed the door as he strode to the lobby. She rose from the bed and pressed her ear to a narrow slit in the bedroom door; she was able to listen as he opened the front door.

  “It’s Lady Catherine, Sir. She’s come to the house, all of a sudden. She says she needs to speak to you urgently.” She recognised the voice; it was Sir Richard’s trusted personal manservant.

  “What’s happened?”

  “She wouldn’t say, Sir.”

  “All right. Wait here. I’ll be back in one moment.”

  Sir Richard opened the bedroom door a few inches, enough for him to speak to Charlotte. “What is it?” she asked.

  “I have a surprise visitor. On no account must you leave this room, my dear. That is most important. I shall return just as soon as I can.” He closed the door and was gone.

  Charlotte was aware that Lady Catherine was fond of Mr Darcy, but he lived miles away in Derbyshire. Sir Richard lived much closer - in the same county - and, if ever she wanted to pester one of her nephews about something, he was more likely to be called upon. She was forever sending communications to Mr Collins, interfering in one subject or another, and Charlotte made every effort to avoid her. She wondered why she had called upon Sir Richard suddenly today.

  Then she remembered the erotic pictures that he and Darcy had been poring over in the library; many of them were her own work, sketches she had executed whilst at Pemberley. If they had been left scattered on the desk, and if Lady Catherine had been shown into the library to wait for Sir Richard to arrive… she would expect an explanation if she had cast her eye around the room and had alighted on this masculine art.

  She returned to the bed, and relaxed her body on its full length. Turning on her side, with her back to the window, she felt exhausted after the wild activity she had just enjoyed with Sir Richard. It was not long before she fell asleep.

  A dream soon arrived. Charlotte was in London once more, and their coach stopped outside the shop in Holywell Street where Sir Richard had made his discreet purchase for Mr Darcy. In her dream, she followed him in and, while he was busy at the counter purchasing some more dirty pictures, she walked past him into the back of the shop. There she found a man and a woman - both naked - posing for an artist busy with his sketchpad; the woman was recumbent on a bed with her legs apart, while the man was on all fours above her, bending his head low to suck one breast and putting two fingers into her vagina.

  The man drawing the figures had unbuttoned the drop-flap on his breeches and was busy stroking himself with one hand while he tried to draw with the other. He found it difficult to concentrate on both tasks simultaneously.

  “Let me help you,” Charlotte heard herself saying. “Just keep drawing, and I’ll work you off myself.” This was certainly not the kind of language she would use, or had ever heard a lady speak.

  She did not wait for
a reply, but lunged forward and curled her fingers round the penis of the sketcher, ready to masturbate him while he endeavoured to continue working. After a few strokes to increase the thickness of his erection, Charlotte knelt down and took it in her mouth, her eyes focused on watching the artist’s models as they caressed each other’s bodies.

  Her reverie was broken by the sound of horses’ hooves outside the cottage, but they did not slow down and the noise soon diminished as the riders passed by. She was safe in this private little world, and tried to turn her mind back to her dream. She still felt aroused and, when she touched herself between her thighs, she was still moist. She stood up and leaned against the wall to stroke her little bud, imagining that Sir Richard had her pinned against the wall and was thrusting his hard cock into her. Within a few minutes, she was taken by an overpowering sensation and her orgasm crashed into her genitals. The spasm was so sudden that she had to bend forward, doubled up with such exquisite bliss.

  Just as she was recovering her composure, she heard the approach of another horse. It stopped outside the door and there was a pause as the rider dismounted and opened the door. It was Sir Richard.

  “I am so sorry that I had to leave you, my dear. It was my Aunt Catherine, come on a mission to persuade me to take a course of action I’d prefer to avoid. Luckily she didn’t stay very long; when I promised to consider her proposal, she seemed satisfied and left to visit someone else in the neighborhood. Now we can return home and you can continue your sketching in the privacy of your chamber.”

  “I had thought for a moment that Lady Catherine might have discovered the drawings I had left in your library.”

  “No. I had put them away in a secret drawer. She will never know of their existence - you may depend upon it.”

  They left the cottage, retrieved her horse that had been hidden in the shed, and rode back to the house. “Now you can get your mind busy, devising new poses for me while we ride,” he smiled.

  “You never told my why your aunt came to visit without warning. Does she often do that?” Charlotte was used to Lady Catherine’s sudden visits at the parsonage whenever she came to give her husband instructions following her latest whim.

  “One of the local worthies here - a Member of Parliament - is dying and she considers I would be an eminently suitable replacement. She has been talking about this for some time but, now the poor man is not expected to see the start of next month, she thinks I should begin to canvas the support of those local gentlemen who are eligible to vote at the by-election. But there are other issues occupying her mind.”

  “What are they? Is she still hoping you’ll marry her daughter Anne?”

  “No. Let’s take one step at a time. I am the nephew of her late husband - and she considers me to be her kin - but she is unhappy with my politics. She could not tolerate having a son-in-law who follows the liberal way of thinking. If she can steer me into a conservative point of view, she promises that doors in the corridors of power will be flung open for me.”

  “Is that something you want to do?”

  “I’m not sure what I want to do. I’m quite happy being a gentleman farmer.”

  “And an art critic,” she smiled. “But I don’t think you’d like too many people to know about that. Just you, me, and Mr. Darcy.”

  When they reached the house, Sir Richard decided that it was time for something to eat. “I shall need sustenance for this afternoon’s activities in your chamber,” he added by way of justification.

  After they had eaten, they went upstairs and Charlotte pulled out her sketchbook. “Do you have any preferences for a pose?” she asked.

  “None at all. I’ll be guided by you, my dear.”

  She remembered snatches of her erotic dream that morning in the cottage, when Sir Richard had been called away. She went to a corner of the room, and pulled out the large mirror, standing it against a chair. “We’re going to undress. I shall kneel on the floor, in front of the mirror, and you can stand beside me. I want you to fondle my breasts while I have your gentleman’s appendage in my mouth.”

  “That’s a strange posture. I’m not sure it will work, if you’re going to sketch us both while we’re… active….”

  The scene worked in my dream this morning, she thought. And I’m going to make it work now.

  They arranged themselves in their positions; Sir Richard unbuttoned his drop-front and his erection sprang out. Charlotte had her sketchpad and pencil resting on a low table on the other side, ready to record the setting. She took him between her lips and began sucking. At the same time, she looked at herself in the mirror and - once she had captured everything in her mind’s eye, she turned to begin her sketch. But Sir Richard was right; things were not working the way she wanted, since she could not contain him in her mouth while she stretched across to draw in her book.

  There was a knock on the door. They had locked themselves in, but the knocking persisted.

  “It’s Mr Darcy, Sir,” a servant called from the corridor. “He needs to speak to you urgently. It’s most private, he says.”

  Sir Richard uttered an oath. “Show him into the chamber next door,” he called. “I shall be out directly.” He turned to Charlotte. “I have to go,” he whispered. “I thought Darcy would be riding back to Pemberley by now. Aunt Catherine has already detained him too long.”

  “We’ll make up for it later,” she said, watching him dress again. “I’ll make it worth your while. I promise.” She heard footsteps outside as Mr Darcy was being shown into the chamber next door to her bedroom.

  Sir Richard joined Mr Darcy. As soon as he began speaking, Charlotte realised she could hear every word spoken; there was a small thin panel in the wall and, when she stood close, she found a small aperture through which she could peer and observe the two men together. She grasped the possibility that anyone - a servant, perhaps - could easily have entered into that chamber, gazed through that opening from the other side of the wall, and watched her undress when she retired to bed. Or, worse still, anyone could have watched her and Sir Richard naked together a few moments earlier.

  “I’m on my way back to Pemberley, finally,” Mr Darcy began. “But Aunt Catherine insisted I call upon you first to try and persuade you to consider your candidature for Parliament in the forthcoming election. We don’t know when the poor man’s going to die, although it wouldn’t surprise me if Aunt Catherine would try and get him to resign his seat now so that you could ease yourself into it sooner. If that’s what you wanted to do, of course.”

  “I’ll speak frankly, Darcy. Our aunt wants her own puppet in parliament. And if she can bring me round to her conservative viewpoint, I’d be the ideal candidate for her. She’d never leave me alone. She enjoys ‘owning’ people. Consider that poor fellow Collins, the parson at Hunsford next door to Rosings. She is always interfering in his affairs - not only in the church but in his personal life. She suggested he ought to marry - and so he quickly tied himself to Sir William Lucas’ daughter, poor woman. She could have made herself a much better match if she had had a little more patience and waited.”

  Charlotte gasped. Did Sir Richard really hold her in such high esteem? Or was it an intimation of his affection for her?

  “You could always tell everyone that you had developed conservative views and then, as soon as you entered the Commons, you could unmask yourself and reveal your ideals as a true liberal. By then it would be too late for anyone to do anything. Unless they got rid of you by kicking you upstairs to the House of Lords. How would you like to be styled Lord Oakhurst? The title sounds rather fine.”

  “I’m not sure my estate is endowed sufficiently to support the lifestyle of a parliamentarian. But I shall think about it, Darcy. Now, was there anything else?”

  “When are you likely to have more drawings by this new artist you have found? Will you be speaking with her again soon?”

  “Well…” Sir Richard stumbled, “as a matter of fact, I’ve been entertaining her today. But there a
re no circumstances under which I can introduce you to her, face-to-face. She is a lady, and it would be most improper.”

  “Come, come, Walden. This lady has an extraordinary talent. I am sure we can agree a suitable sum of money if she can produce something really special for me. And a generous amount by way of commission for you, too. If you’re going to enter parliament, you’ll need all the funds you can lay your hands upon.”

  Sir Richard paused to consider. “She would have to be hidden behind a screen in a corner of the room. No conversation could take place between you.”

  “Very well. But I’d like something a little… different. You still have my old maid from Pemberley here with you?”

  “Sally? Yes. I gather you… you enjoyed her company a great deal before you married.”

  “And then I passed her to you, cousin, so that you might enjoy her. Or does she not share your bed?”

  “She has until recently… but I have found someone else… and….”

  “Oh, you’ll settle on one girl eventually, I’m sure. Now, what I have in mind is a scene in the bedchamber where you and I are together with Sarah, and we are sharing her charms. Do you think your artist lady-friend can capture something on those lines?”

  “That would be difficult. I don’t think you would want her to capture a setting where you would be penetrating a woman who was not your wife. Am I right?”

  “I have sworn to be faithful to Lizzie, and I take that vow very seriously. I can’t think of any circumstances where I might break that vow. What you and I get up to, cousin, is neither here nor there. And if I can pleasure myself by looking - but not touching - another woman, that act is not wicked in my book. But as for you….”

  “No. Now that I have found someone special, I would not care to be depicted fornicating with Sally. But, as you say, looking but not touching can hardly be called criminal. I have an idea. Would you wait a moment, while I confer with my artist friend?”