A Lady’s Choice

by Jane Hunter

  Without warning, Mr. Darcy gave a guttural groan and impaled her deeply with his member. Elizabeth cried out as her climax crashed against her, and she clung to Mr. Darcy, shuddering with release as her hot depths pulsated around him. Mr. Darcy held her tightly against his heaving chest, and Elizabeth marveled at how she could feel the pounding of his heart against her spine, and wondered at how it matched her own.

  Mr. Darcy kissed the back of her neck gently and rubbed his hand gently over her shoulder. He turned her gently in his arms, his hot length still buried deep inside her velvet depths, and looked down into her face with an odd expression and Elizabeth reached up to stroke his cheek gently.

  “Miss Bennet... Elizabeth... I do not know what came over me. All I knew was that seeing you standing there, dressed in such strange attire, I could not deny my longing for you. I needed to possess you fully. I needed to make you mine.”

  Elizabeth smiled at him gently and ran her fingertips lightly over his lips.

  “Mr. Darcy... William... you have possessed me in all ways except once since the first time I saw you, and now that you have captured that last piece of me...” Darcy covered her mouth with his arm under her knees, he held her tight against him.

  She could feel his member growing hard within her again and she moaned against his lips, eager to feel his length throbbing inside her most intimate parts once again.

  If this is what it was to be Mrs. Darcy, Elizabeth could think of far worse things to endure. Elizabeth wound her arms around Mr. Darcy’s neck and gasped and sighed with delight as he drove his hard length deeper, and deeper inside her.

  Mr. Darcy’s ragged breath burned against her lips as his passion overtook him and his hips bucked against her. Elizabeth wound her fingers through Darcy’s dark hair and opened her mouth wantonly against his, crying out her ecstasy against his lips as her body shuddered against his and his climax came again.

  She was his wife in all but name now, and in her mind, their tryst in the heather had served as a second proposal... and her eager acceptance of it.

  As they lay panting in heather, Elizabeth could not help but wonder if her mother and sisters would be able to see the change in her when she returned to Longbourn... Would she be able to tell Jane? Certainly not. The sudden thought of her sister filled Elizabeth with a different emotion. Guilt.

  “We should return to Grenleigh,” Elizabeth said quickly as she rolled away from her lover and fumbled with her trousers. They were well and truly stained with mud now... as was her jacket.

  Mr. Darcy helped her to her feet and pressed gentle kisses against her breasts and throat as he pulled her trousers up over her hips, buttoned her linen shirt once more and helped her into her waistcoat. She could not help but cast glances over her shoulder at the house and hope that they had not been seen. From this distance, she would look like a man… did Mr. Darcy not care about what scandal that could cause?

  It was beyond imagining, but Elizabeth could not help but wonder how dangerous this secret encounter could be. Would they be able to tell by her knowing looks that she had tasted the forbidden pleasures of Mr. Darcy’s flesh before their wedding night? Before he had even proposed properly, or asked for her father’s blessing? What agony would she have to endure between this day and their wedding day... and what shame would come upon her if that day never came?

  “Will you ride back with me?” Mr. Darcy asked as he shook the grass and frost from his jacket and pulled it on briskly. The horse was not far away, but Elizabeth shook her head fervently.

  “No, it would look very strange, indeed, and I cannot be seen—not dressed like this,” she said as retrieved her woollen cap from where it had fallen and pulled it over her curls.

  “I must admit, I quite like you dressed in this manner,” he said with a smile as he kissed her once more.

  Elizabeth felt her resolve waver just a little, but she stepped back from his embrace, pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I shall make my own way back to Grenleigh,” she replied firmly.

  “As you wish.” Mr. Darcy whistled for the horse, and the mare turned and plodded back toward him amiably. She marveled at his ease as he swung himself up into the saddle. “I shall say nothing. We have many secrets to keep, you and I.”

  “Indeed,” Elizabeth said with a smile.

  Mr. Darcy seemed reluctant to leave her, and Elizabeth could not deny that she felt the same. But after a moment, the gentleman seemed to steel himself and he nudged the chestnut mare into a canter and then a gallop. Elizabeth watched him breathlessly as she tried to make sense of her tangled emotions. She had been well and truly ruined by this encounter—if she were never to receive any sign of an engagement… If Mr. Darcy disappeared as he had all these long months… How would she move on from such a thing? How would she explain to her mother that she did not wish to marry—worse still, what if the truth were to come to light and she would be deemed unfit for anyone to marry. Even a man of the militia would think twice before marrying a widow; and she was no widow.

  Elizabeth turned up the collar of her jacket against the biting wind and wrapped her arms around her torso as she walked back through the heather toward the house. There was nothing she could do but wait—and that was the part that infuriated her the most. She was not in charge of her own destiny, she would have to be content that if anything were to happen, that it would be initiated by someone other than herself. Jane might have been content with such a thing, which was why she had spent so many months pining for Mr. Bingley and doing her very best to pretend not to be in such a state.

  It was unthinkable that she would have to endure the same fate. Yes, Mr. Bingley was returning to Netherfield Park, but what if he had not? What if Elizabeth had not demanded that Mr. Darcy set right what he had done and spoken to Mr. Bingley about his falsehoods about Jane? If she had remained silent Jane would never know if her feelings and affection for Mr. Bingley were indeed unfortunately given. Elizabeth had done this, it had been because of her that Jane would find her happiness.

  Elizabeth choked on a sob that threatened to overwhelm her and she paused briefly at the wooden gate that led into Grenleigh’s gardens. She could not sit idly by and allow life to happen around her. If she wanted to be Mrs. Darcy, she would have to demand it.

  She wiped at her cheeks, took a deep breath, and strode through the garden toward the conservatory and gained entry into the house once more.

  Elizabeth closed the conservatory door quietly and moved quickly through the hallway and into the foyer. The house was well and truly awake now, and she could hear voices coming from the parlor and the breakfast room. Too close for comfort.

  She was grateful that the windows of each room looked out in the opposite direction of the heather fields and toward the woods where the hunt had been held and dared to hope that she had not been spotted as she returned through the garden—or at the very least that she would be mistaken for a servant.

  She ran up the stairs to her chambers and leaned against the door breathlessly. She had only just avoided being caught. She undressed quickly and used the cold washing water to try and rinse some of the sweat from her body—but she could not wipe away the heat of the memory of what had happened. Nor would she ever want to. Mr. Darcy had taken her as a husband takes a wife. There, in the heather, like a wild highlander. Elizabeth laughed softly to herself at the thought of it as she pulled a clean chemise over her head and tied the ribbons on a fresh dress. She was just wrapping a velvet ribbon around her hair when there was a knock at the door.

  Elizabeth secured the ribbon deftly and pulled Jane’s kashmir shawl around her shoulders. “Yes?” she called out.

  “Lizzy, it’s me!”

  “Felicity,” Elizabeth breathed gratefully as she pulled open the door. Her friend rushed into the room, her cheeks pink and her eyes bright with merriment.

  “You look well this morning,” she said quickly, and then gasped as she saw the gentleman’s clothes laid out upon a chair. “Lizzy! Yo
u did not!”

  “I only went for a walk,” Elizabeth said, but she could not hide the blush that crept up her neck.

  “Of course,” Felicity said with a sly smile. “A very merry walk, I see.”

  “What do you mean?” Panic reared up inside Elizabeth’s chest.

  “Did you speak to Mr. Darcy this morning?” she asked casually.

  “No,” Elizabeth lied. “No, I did not see him.”

  “He was quite concerned about you last evening, Lizzy,” she said as she plucked the gentleman’s trousers from the chair. “Lizzy whatever did you do? There is mud everywhere!”

  Elizabeth grabbed the trousers from her friend’s grasp and folded them into a small bundle. “I slipped while I was on my walk. It was quite frosty this morning and I did not look where I was stepping.”

  “You are a clumsy one,” Felicity chided her. “I shall have to send them to be laundered… do not look so worried, there is a washerwoman I pay very discreetly to wash these clothes.”

  Elizabeth nodded and laid the trousers upon the chair. She hoped that Felicity had lost her train of thought and would not mention Mr. Darcy again.

  “Will you come down to breakfast?” Felicity asked and Elizabeth breathed a small sigh of relief that her friend had been distracted enough to pull her thoughts from the gentleman.

  “I will, I thank you. I am famished!”

  Felicity laughed and linked her arm through Elizabeth’s and led her out of the room and down the hallway toward the stairs. “I do hope you were not too upset last night,” Felicity said quietly as they descended the stairs together.

  “Oh, no,” Elizabeth assured her. “I was exhausted from the hunt. I do enjoy a good walk, but that was very taxing, indeed.”

  “I can imagine so,” Felicity laughed. “I was ever so tired after my first hunt, but I am accustomed to it now.”

  “Indeed,” Elizabeth murmured.

  The breakfast room was still occupied by several guests and Elizabeth slid gratefully into the chair Felicity pointed out for her. She smiled as one of the servants poured her a cup of tea and set a plate laden with scones and fruit upon the table in front of her.

  Felicity helped herself to the bounty with very little regard for propriety and Elizabeth did her best not to give in to her own desire to eat with equal gusto. She really was hungry, and her stomach growled as the smell of the food filled her nostrils.

  “It is so wonderful to see you feeling better, Miss Bennet,” an airy voice declared, and Elizabeth paused in the buttering of her scone as Lady Percival took a seat opposite her and waited for a cup of tea to be poured. “You have been so ill, I daresay I did not realize that women from the English countryside were of such a delicate complexion. I should have expected that from a young lady from London—”

  Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, unsure of what Lady Percival was implying. “I was simply unprepared for the cold,” she said.

  Lady Percival smiled thinly and Elizabeth found herself disliking Lord Rackham’s cousin all the more. “How unfortunate for you. We Scots are made of sterner stuff, it seems.”

  “Indeed,” Elizabeth replied and sipped at her tea.

  “What can we do for you this fine morning, cousin?” Felicity asked brightly. Lady Percival looked somewhat perturbed at being addressed so informally, but Felicity only smiled and Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from smiling herself.

  “I simply wanted to tell Miss Bennet some news,” her ladyship said stiffly.

  “News? How wonderful,” Felicity said. “Please, do go on.”

  Lady Percival shifted in her seat and leaned forward just a little. “I simply wanted to pass along something I had heard about Mr. Darcy—”

  “Mr. Darcy?” Felicity said somewhat louder than Elizabeth liked. “Whatever could you have heard? And why should you want to tell Lizzy?”

  “I only observed that she was acquainted with the gentleman,” Lady Percival said loftily, “I thought she would appreciate knowing that he should be congratulated on his engagement.”

  “Engagement?” Elizabeth breathed. Surely, he had not said anything—

  Lady Percival noted the change in Elizabeth’s expression immediately and her eyes narrowed. “Why, yes,” she said smoothly. “I see you did not know. He has been engaged for some months now. A most excellent match.”

  “And where does this news come from?” Elizabeth asked stiffly.

  “From a very dear friend in London,” Lady Percival replied. “A young lady who is very close to the family and very well informed in such matters.”

  “I see,” Elizabeth said. Though she had only eaten a few bites, Elizabeth found that her appetite had suddenly disappeared.

  “Engaged? Hamish said nothing of it,” Felicity said. “I should be very cross with both of them if they have kept a secret like this from me! How wonderful, I do hope the young lady is well-suited to him.”

  Elizabeth could scarcely breathe. Whoever could he be engaged to? Surely not Ann de Bourgh—it was unthinkable, impossible. But how else would someone like Lady Percival have discovered such news if it were not being spoken of in the higher circles. Lady Catherine de Bourgh was not one to keep secrets, especially one such as this.

  “Are you quite well, Miss Bennet?” Lady Percival asked sweetly.

  Elizabeth set down her teacup and pushed her plate away. “Quite well, I thank you. I believe I have eaten enough.”

  “But, Lizzy—” Felicity protested, but Elizabeth shook her head and stood up from her place.

  “Thank you for your news, Lady Percival,” she said as graciously as she could manage and walked out of the breakfast room as quickly as she could without attracting any curious glances. What was she going to do? It was not so long ago that Mr. Darcy had held her close and told her that he loved her—and she had allowed him… she had allowed him to take liberties that she would not have if she had known.

  How could she have been so foolish... Furious tears sprang to her eyes as she thought of her sister, Lydia, and how easily she had fallen under Mr. Wickham’s spell. He would have left her to ruin if he had been given his way. But Mr. Darcy had stepped in and rescued them, all of them, from such a fate. Surely, he would not treat her so shamefully.

  But how could she know for certain?

  Elizabeth wiped at her cheeks and walked through the hallway not quite knowing where she was going, but determined to find Mr. Darcy and demand that he explain himself. It would be worse to hear the truth from his own lips, but she needed to know. She could not bear the thought of what would happen to her if it were true—if he were engaged to someone else, she would be well and truly ruined.

  Despair squeezed her heart and threatened to steal away her breath, but Elizabeth blinked away her tears and held her shawl tightly around her shoulders as she walked; hoping and worrying at the same time that she would happen upon the gentleman somewhere in the house.

  “I will, of course, be leaving the bulk of the planning to Georgiana,” a familiar voice said from an open doorway. Elizabeth paused and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to keep her gasp muffled. She had found him, but she did not want to confront him in front of one of the other guests—their tryst had been just that, a secret to be kept by both parties. She could say nothing if anyone else were present lest she give them both away.

  “Of course,” another gentleman replied. “Ladies are so much more adept at planning such events. And is your sister well acquainted with the young lady?”

  “Not as well as I should like, but I do believe that they will be as close as sisters by the time the date arrives.”

  A tear slipped down Elizabeth’s cheek and she wiped it away furiously. Georgiana.

  There had been a time when Elizabeth had wished to call her sister, but now that would be another young lady. Not her. Elizabeth’s hands clenched into fists and she leaned against the wall for support. She could listen to no more of this.

  Elizabeth pushed away from the wall and walked on u
nsteady legs toward the stairs. Perhaps if she could hide away in her bedchamber she could go back to sleep and shake off this terrible nightmare. Perhaps she was still asleep. She chuckled at her own foolishness and swallowed another desperate sob.

  “Lizzy! Where are you going?” Elizabeth ignored Felicity’s cry from the end of the hallway and climbed the stairs as quickly as she could to escape her friend’s questions.

  She slipped into her chamber and closed the door tightly before turning the little brass key to engage the lock. She placed the key upon the vanity, threw her shawl over a chair and laid down upon her bed.

  Mr. Darcy was engaged to be married.

  But not to Elizabeth Bennet.

  To someone else.

  Felicity knocked at the door softly, and then more sharply as Elizabeth ignored her.

  “Lizzy, do let me in!” Her friend’s voice was muffled by the wooden door, and Elizabeth turned on her side and pulled her knees up to her chest. Felicity would leave her alone soon enough. “Lizzy?” She heard Felicity try the door handle and was thankful that she had thought ahead to lock the door. “I will come back and speak to you soon,” Felicity said through the keyhole.

  Elizabeth sighed heavily and closed her eyes.

  Sleep fixed a great many things. Perhaps if she slept she would awake refreshed and prepared to set things right—and if they could not be set right, perhaps she would be prepared to face the truth of Mr. Darcy’s engagement… and what it meant for her.

  * * *

  To Be Continued…

  A Highland Rescue

  Mr. Darcy’s Highland Fling ~ Book 4

  Whatever hope that Elizabeth Bennet had that sleep would take away all of the misery she felt fled when she woke in the morning to find that her heart ached and her stomach felt ill at the memory of what she had done, and what she now knew to be true.