by Beth Massey
As the carriage pulled away, he saw her face at the window. She looked lost, but for the first time since she received Jane’s letters she held his gaze and neither turned away until they were out of each other’s sight.
Darcy galloped back to Pemberley and practically ran to his study. It was still very early and none of his guests or Georgiana were up. After locking the door to ensure his privacy, he sat at his desk and tore open the seal. His hands were shaking as he began to read.
My Dearest Will,
You are correct that the situation my family faces is grave. Lydia has in the most careless manner brought public shame to the name of Bennet. Wickham will not marry her. Certainly his scheme is to amuse himself and then abandon her. I know not what my father will be able to do to regain the reputation of our family. We have not the funds to convince him, or anyone else for that matter, to marry her. Neither of my parents made any attempt to curb my sister’s wildness. I lay the greater part of the blame with my father. I implored him not to allow her to go to Brighton. His cavalier reply was that nothing would happen to her because she had no money, and he believed she could not grow many degrees worse. The only other alternative he said was to lock her up for the rest of her life. No one could consider that the serious response of a concerned father.
I release you completely from any obligation to me. Georgiana, and possibly Mr Bingley, are the only ones who know of our betrothal. They will understand completely why our attachment must not be continued, given the disgrace Lydia has brought upon the name of Bennet.
Please do not consider going against societies’ condemnation of my family. Even if you felt you could withstand the censure, Georgiana could not. We must protect her at all costs.
I am convinced there is no difference between my sister and me. I enticed you, and ignored your qualms. My desire for you was so intense that I thought only of my needs, and lost sight of the consequences of my actions. The history of our tortured relationship makes me only slightly less reckless than Lydia. Extenuating circumstances does not, however, excuse my wanton behaviour.
Sometimes I tell myself that my sense of urgency was an unconscious premonition that something like this would separate us. The love we shared in our beautiful cottage must now satisfy me for life. I will never forget the afternoon I spent with you, and no one will ever take your place in my affections. A year ago, I was convinced I would probably never marry. My requirements of love, admiration and respect of the deepest kind could surely never be met. I found those qualities in you. Marrying and being obliged to give myself to someone else is both repugnant and a denial of my love for you.
You are a man, and you must marry. You have an obligation to your family to provide an heir, and Georgiana needs a sister. Please choose wisely for her sake. If you find someone that has some of the characteristics you love about me, your choice will meet with my approval. I implore you to find someone who will make you laugh and brings you joy! It will comfort me to know you are happy, and Georgiana has the sister she deserves.
I make only one request. Please, when you are married, do not make love to your wife in our cottage. I would like to think of it over the years as a place that was just for us. In my memory it will be a secret monument to the love we once felt for each other. The love I destroyed by giving in to my foolish passion.
I will love you always. God bless you.
Lizzy
Fitzwilliam Darcy balled the letter up and hurled it across the room. He wished she were here. He would… he would… spank her like the child that she was. She truly was as silly as her younger sisters. What was it she had written? “You are a man, and you must marry.” But in the next paragraph she wants the cottage to be a monument, and has the audacity to request he never take his wife to ‘our’ cottage. From what ridiculous novel did she get that idea? Here he is, feeling as though she had ripped out his heart, and she is writing sentimental drivel. He put his head in his hands and tried to make sense of her words. He retrieved the letter and straightened it out. Despite its ridiculous treatise, it might contain insight into how to persuade her she was wrong.
His anger returned as he read the letter again. Yes, if she were here he would spank her. He would force her across his lap and rip her undergarments until that luscious backside was exposed. As his arousal grew at the thought of her lying across it, he fantasized beginning her discipline by randomly alternating harsh slaps with taps that were almost caresses until that lovely bottom was cherry red. Thinking of subsequent plans to correct her errant behaviour became the occasion for him to release his rising appendage from the bounds of his trousers. With closed eyes, he began his preferred ritual toward solitary gratification… an increasingly urgent regimen of stroking and pulling.
With every jerk of his hand, he imagined punishing her with kisses; fooling her into believing him delivering a balm for her inflamed posterior. She would relax and begin to enjoy his ministrations. His face fell into a smug smile, as he drew closer to his climax. She would beg him to hurry and help her find her release—but he would not oblige.
The woman, who had taught him how to properly love a wife, and to always be aware of her needs, would not approve this act of revenge against the vexing Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Belly’s circumstances had made her too forgiving of her own sex and too hard on his. There would be no relief for his luscious Lizzy. If she were here, he would bend her over his desk and take his own pleasure with no regard for hers. His thrusts would be fierce as he made violent love to this insufferable woman he adored.
Once he was spent, he cleaned himself with his handkerchief and euphoria was quickly replaced by the dull ache of despair. He turned his attention back to a plan to defeat Wickham, and convince Elizabeth to ignore her childish belief in her reprehensible wanton behaviour. No, this evaluation was wrong. It was not her guilt that was the problem. It was her inability to accept the constancy of his love. He would save the reputation of the Bennet family, and he would be relentless in the pursuit of her trust.
9
BEAUTIFUL BELLA LOVES CREPES SUZETTE FOR BREAKFAST
Bella smiled mischievously as she placed her foot strategically between her partner’s legs. The toes on her right foot had become quite expert at finding the exact spot that made Suzette begin to squirm and pant. Their Sunday—sweet Sunday—with no gentlemen to do always began in this tub and at times ended someplace else… their bed, or in cold weather, the rug in front of the fireplace. Sometimes they even took the direct approach… taking turns, one with legs wide open sitting in the comfortable reading chair and the other worshipping at her lover’s crux on cushion protected bended knee. Most often the pleasing of the other took place right there in the tub, enhanced by slippery bath oil scented skin. The huge copper tub had been a gift from a client. The customer thought his favourite courtesan should have the newest in bathing design, le bain de bateau, from her native France. He had it delivered for her pleasure after joining her in her previous tub and feeling cramped by its confines.
Suzette was really Susan from Bingley in the north of England. Mrs Teasewell advised her to adopt an imitation French accent, for the unknowing British gentlemen to disguise her roots in Yorkshire. Over the years she had learned a smattering of French, and was often heard whispering, “C’est si bon” in a gentleman’s ear when in the throes of pretend passion. Bella sometimes had to remind her that she was not actually French, but most times she indulged her love by going along with her impersonation. The disguise had been a lifeline she had embraced to erase the sadness that was Susan; and ‘Suzette’ had become embedded within as an acceptance of her new found sanctuary. Darcy had dubbed this place years ago ‘the convent of clemency.’
Their Sunday breakfast was often taken ‘en le bain.’ Suzette, as part of her French persona, grew to love ‘le petit dejeuner’ of ‘le pain et les fruits.’ This morning the house chef had prepared pain au chocolate and café au lait for their repast. Maximilien had found his way from Paris shortly afte
r the revolution had begun to devour itself to cook for the rich of Britain. It was he who had tutored Susan until she met with his approval, and was allowed to pass as Suzette. He was a jovial man who was forever telling tales of what Paris had been like during those tumultuous days up to the establishment of le Directoire. The revolution had left him a cynic, and he delighted in describing his philosophy of life by speaking of the leader who shared his first name. Maximilien Robespierre had been known by the masses of Paris as ‘the incorruptible.’ Maximilien Lacombe described himself as ‘the easily corruptible.’ These two young women had become the nieces he had left behind in France; and he took avuncular pleasure in catering their Sunday morning trysts. He had to admit they were unconventional young women… although very much to be expected considering where he had chosen to sell his culinary skills. Yesterday, he had found succulent strawberries, peaches and grapes in the market for his favourites.
The bread and coffee were consumed first, along with mundane talk of what to do with their Sunday. The conversation was not completely pleasing to Suzette, but she held in check her temper for the time being. They saved the fruit to be eaten along with the act of consuming each other. Suzette’s eyes closed as Bella massaged the tiny rose bud buried in her folds. She was ripe and ready to be taken to the heights, but wanted to prolong the delightful tension just a bit longer. Shivering with anticipation, her breath a little ragged, she pulled the foot away and placed grapes between Bella’s toes. Her voice was filled with put on petulance. “Feed me, bad Belly. Your news of what you have planned for today has distressed me. I will only agree to see Bingley and allow you to see Darcy if you spoil me the way I like.”
“Please Susie, I am not one of those preposterous peers of the realm who pay huge sums to have you dress up like a demented, scantily clad Napoleon; and order them about with a riding crop. I will do as you ask because I love having you worship my toes, but you had better change your tone with me.” The ritual of feeding her lover grapes continued for a few moments in silence. Susan trailed her fingers along Belly’s right leg, as far as she could reach, until she extracted the desired groan. Looking up, she saw her lover’s eyes half closed in anticipation of the thanks she would receive for the delivery of the edible treat.
Once all the grapes were eaten she held her beloved Belly’s foot. After a brief massage, she began to outline each nail with her tongue. Tickling her arch with the lightest of kisses caused Bella’s foot to reflexively jump, and Susan giggled before she applied more substantial kisses and licks to this sensitive area. Simultaneously, she stroked the silky flesh from the back of her knee down to those beautiful digits. The noises she was evoking from her partner were music to her ears, and she gloried that such a simple thing brought so much pleasure. She started with the smallest toe, teasing it with licks and then bringing it into her mouth to be individually suckled. This erotic ritual was repeated until all five had been treated to her mouth’s sensuous caresses. Susan put Bella’s right foot back into the water and, once again, placed it between her legs. The magic massaging began again as she retrieved her lover’s left foot to begin its adoration.
Belly unwisely chose this moment to speak again. She and her friend Darcy had much in common when it came to the timing of their words. “You have told me Bingley is the only man you have ever enjoyed, and I am sure I could be jealous if I tried.”
Susan bit Belly’s toe and ignored her yelp of pain. She knew this petty argument of imitation jealousy would only enhance the excitement a bit further along in their quest for fulfilment. “And you used to say Darcy knew how to treat a woman’s body. Maybe, I should be the one to be envious. I remember you once described him as the most pleasing man of your acquaintance.”
Belly laughed at Susan’s ploy to provoke. Deciding to tell her lover the entirety of her concerns, she said, “Something has changed with Darcy, and I believe he wants to tell me his news today. I am hoping he has found a love. He stopped in last on his way to Hertfordshire at the time Bingley rented that estate… you remember last autumn.”
“Charlie definitely met a woman there, and according to him, Darcy and his sisters tried to persuade him she was not good enough. They said she was indifferent. When he first told me, I did not believe his words of her to have any consequence. As you know, he is always falling in love. However, he spent the night with me several times at the beginning of the summer, and his continued despair truly frightened me. Bingley has always been such an amiable fellow; it was disconcerting to see him pining away.” Susan put on one of her best Napoleon looks—arching her brow, narrowing her eyes and sneering. “I told him he was a fool to believe anything but his heart!” Her face softened into a grin and she chuckled as she said, “I really did not know I had such sentimental humbug in my advice arsenal. Her face softened to reflect compassion. “Though I truly hope my words helped to change his mind. He was so very despondent; I believe he must have deep feelings for her.” She kissed Belly’s arch and smiled lovingly across the tub, “I am not really angry about seeing him today.”
Bella returned the smile and increased the speed and intensity of the strategic circular motion of her right foot, as she continued to speak. “Darcy sent me a note expressing his desire to meet with me this afternoon.” She snorted derisively as she told of his letter. “He felt the need to write that he only wanted to talk, and to reveal he had a problem with which Mrs T might be of some assistance. There was something ominous about the way he expressed himself. He went on to say Bingley was coming with him to spend some time with you.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she continued, “That is all I know of our favourite customers; but knowing Bingley, I am certain he wants to do more than talk.” Her toe became a pointer as she found the orifice between Susie’s legs. “He is always anxious to get in here and move about. I tell you, I am the one who should be jealous.”
“Oh, Belly baby, I am from Bingley; and he is from Scarborough. He is one of a very few who knows I am a Yorkshire lass and not French. I think of him as a brother.”
Belly rolled her eyes. “Some brother! I know you do more than just sing Scarborough Fair when you are alone with him.”
Susan glared at Bella. Her lover’s careless words had unleashed the wrath that was always just below the surface. This feigned fury was the cloak she wore to camouflage the persistent pain caused by the remembrance of things past. She had used this anger and her feisty demeanour to please many customers, and she had been well tipped for her specialty. Their ‘running away fund’ had grown considerably since Lord Colton had suggested the Napoleon disguise.
Bella had triggered unpleasant memories, and allowed ugliness to enter their Sunday session. This was not the kind of indignation that would enhance their lovemaking. “Yes, well as you know, my family—my father in particular—left me with the legacy of a unique interpretation of familial relations.”
Belly pulled her feet back and moved quickly to Susan’s side of the tub. She lay atop her lover’s body and held her face in her hands as she whispered. “I am so very sorry, my little one. I do not know what I was thinking. You and Charlie do indeed have a special relationship. You look as though you could be brother and sister, and I know you are just as apt to sing and laugh as you are to do other things.”
Her kiss was apologetic and cautious at first, but when she increased the intensity and it was returned; she was hopeful that the unpleasantness was behind them for the time being. She returned to her side of the tub and pulled Susan with her. Their positions were as both had learned to prefer. Belly pulled Susan up her body and positioned her small breasts with the perky nipples before her mouth. Oh how she enjoyed loving this tiny woman’s body. She captured the left bud and teased it with her teeth. Following what could be construed as an uninspired routine, she replaced teeth with tongue. As usual while her tongue was working its magic, Belly’s fingers found their way to the curls between her legs… to the spot that made her Susan squirm.
Today it was preci
sely that oft repeated affection that eased Susan’s troubled soul. Familiar love was being given, and the feeling was totally unlike the familial requirements her father had demanded. He had told her it was her duty after the death of her mother. He spoke with both a parent and a parson’s authority. In the beginning she had, indeed, felt special to have such an intimate relationship with her father; but as she matured, she realized his insistence on keeping their actions secret was an indication of its illicit nature.
When she realized she was with child at barely fourteen, her father spoke of Eve and original sin and told her she must leave home. He refused to be tarnished by her guilt. Her brother Robert—ten years her elder, recently ordained, two years married and childless—devised a plan to give her at least some semblance of a protected life. She left one night as demanded by her father, telling him nothing. She waited at an Inn in Scarborough to be joined by her brother and sister-in-law. A month after her disappearance, Robert and his wife Deborah travelled with Susan to Edinburgh where they stayed until the baby was born. The baby boy was bonny, and they named him Robert, but called him Robbie. They stayed in Scotland for an additional six months; while Robert found a position, and Susan nursed her son until he was robust enough to travel.
Susan’s brother had been offered a living near the town of Pickering in North Yorkshire. Before settling into their new parish, they made a trip to London. Robert had been a great friend at school of Lord Colton. It was to him they went to find a ‘safe’ place where Susan could disappear. Once he heard the particulars, Lord Colton wanted to help the fourteen-year-old who had experienced more than most women twice her age. She was a very pretty, tiny thing, and retained her childlike appearance despite giving birth. She would be greatly admired at Mrs Teasewell’s. The characteristic Lord Colton most admired was her fiery temper. She looked like a determined pixie—hand on hips and fierce face—as she argued with her brother about the solution offered. An elite brothel was not what her brother, the pastor, had imagined. He had hoped for something a little less dissolute, but he was a pragmatist.