Bargain With the Devil

by Enid Wilson

  For Elizabeth, it felt as if a thunderbolt had coursed through her body. Her intended retort was lost as she held her breath, determined not to make a sound that might alert the others in the room to the liberty he took.

  Mr. Darcy gave her a devilish smile, straightened, and signaled for his sister and her companion to prepare to take their leave, Thereby neatly avoiding any response that Elizabeth might have been tempted to express.

  Oh my Lord! Elizabeth thought wildly as she watched him take his leave, what have I just agreed to reward him with?

  Chapter Two

  “Father! Father! It’s Lydia!” Elizabeth cried out as she rushed down to the morning room.

  “My dear, whatever is the matter?" Mr. Bennet replied. He had awakened early and was breaking his fast alone at the Gardiner’s townhouse. The Gardiners themselves had gone out. Lydia’s wedding was scheduled for two days hence. Mr. Bennet longed to finish the whole sorry business and return to his beloved library at Longbourn as soon as humanly possible.

  “Father, Lydia has run away with Mr. Wickham again.”

  “Again? Whatever do you mean by that?”

  “She left a letter. She states that Mr. Wickham does not like the commission in the North that Uncle Gardiner purchased for him. She says that they will marry and move to Bath instead; and that she will be in contact with us after she settled down.”

  “The worthless young man! He is after more money, I am certain. I shall…” Mr. Bennet rose from his seat, appearing ready to breathe fire at Wickham, if necessary. A moment later, however, he clutched his chest, and collapsed onto the chair again.

  “Father!” Elizabeth cried out.

  * * *

  Mr. Darcy received news of Wickham’s disappearance early in the morning, and came to the Gardiner’s townhouse with the hope of gaining a private meeting with its owner. Instead, he found Mr. Bennet collapsed in the morning room. The distressing news of his youngest daughter disappearing again had put such a strain on Mr. Bennet’s heart that, although he was still breathing, he was unconscious.

  Mr. Darcy assessed the situation and immediately took charge. He picked up the sick man and called out to a servant to direct him to Mr. Bennet’s bedroom. He further instructed the servant to fetch his own private doctor.

  Throughout the entire incident, Elizabeth could only stand by, watching Darcy’s solicitous actions through tear-blurred eyes. He was gentle and decisive with her father, and polite to every one, even the servants. Surely he would treat me with honour and decency. Oh, how now are we to find Lydia?

  Mr. Gardiner returned to a house of unhappy chaos. Mr. Darcy gained his immediate attention for a private meeting and they shut themselves up in the study for the better part of half an hour. Before the gentleman left, however, Elizabeth was able to corner Mr. Darcy in private at the hallway landing.

  “Sir, I must thank you for your quick action in sending for the doctor. You may have saved my father’s life.”

  He did not say anything but nodded his head, looking grave.

  “What are we to do now?”

  “Wickham left me a note. I shall take care of the matter.”

  “What does he want now?”

  “I shall take care of it. You are not to worry.”

  “I insist! This concerns my family.”

  With a sigh, Mr. Darcy yielded. “He has demanded a further five thousand pounds and a townhouse in Stoke Newington. He says he will contact me once I settle the terms with his lawyer. He has given me five days to arrange it.”

  “Another five thousand pounds? Dear Heaven, what greed! How could Lydia be so stupid! What does he threaten to do if we cannot comply?”

  “I shall speak to my steward. You must not distress yourself.”

  “But you cannot provide for him endlessly. The scoundrel! We must find them, and force him to marry Lydia. If we sent them off to one of the colonies, perhaps that would help us to forget all about them, so that Mr. Wickham could never trouble us again.” Anger grew in Elizabeth’s chest.

  “The innkeeper where Wickham stayed overheard him stating that he did not intend to leave for Bath.”

  “But where, then, would they go?”

  “I know Mrs. Younge has a sister in a fishing village not far from Dover and Wickham had been there before. I shall investigate that area.”

  “Might Uncle Edward go with you?”

  "I believe your uncle has other more pressing obligations to fulfill, do you not agree? He must inform your mother about your father’s condition, and speak with his steward in your father's absence.”

  “Then…may I go with you?”

  “Absolutely not. It is not an area fit for a gentlewoman.”

  “But…”

  “Elizabeth, you must keep your end of our bargain, and I shall keep mine! Now go back to your father. I will send news as soon as there is any to tell."

  Mr. Darcy moved towards the door but Elizabeth blocked his way, insinuating her small body in front of his tall one. “I must help in the search. I am determined!" she said, her eyes ablaze as she challenged him.

  But a matching determination had arisen in Darcy. He already blamed himself for not keeping a closer eye on Wickham, nor was he prepared to deal with a hot-headed woman breathing annoyance down his neck. “And how, pray tell, do you intend to handle a lowly man from a disreputable area?” He proceeded to demonstrate his meaning by wrapping his left arm around her waist and pulling her body hard against his. He looked straight down into her fiery gaze, warning her silently to back away.

  She was standing on tiptoe, her body pressed against the length of his. She felt flustered and she sensed a hot flush rising onto her face. The bite he had given her on the wrist had only disappeared the night before, and now he was imprinting his shape on hers. Her breath grew quick and shallow, but she would not back away. “My courage rises with each new attempt to intimidate me.”

  Further incensed by her attitude, Mr. Darcy lowered his head and whispered into her ear, “Such a man would not be content with intimidation. He would do what I have wanted to do with you every time I have been in your presence, these past months.” He positioned his right hand over her bosom, then squeezed it hard. Anticipating her scream, he was able to muffle it with a kiss, his tongue thrusting between her parted lips.

  Elizabeth could not believe that two people could be this close. She felt she could not breathe, with his tongue playing havoc inside her mouth. Passion exploded in her chest as he fondled her roughly. Blood drained from her head down into her body, and she nearly swooned.

  Abruptly, he released her and backed away, saying coarsely, “Learn from this lesson! Do not attempt anything hasty. I will send word once I know anything of importance.”

  He whirled away and departed from the townhouse, leaving a weakened Elizabeth still plastered against the wall in a heated daze.

  * * *

  An hour later, however, Elizabeth felt ready to brave the lion again. Her uncle had left for Longbourn earlier, promising to inform Mrs. Bennet of the bad turn in her husband’s health and to arrange business matters with her husband’s steward. Elizabeth informed her aunt that Mr. Darcy would be going off to search for Lydia and Wickham, and then added that he had requested that Elizabeth stay with his sister while he was away, since Miss Darcy's companion had been called away suddenly.

  Departing the house, Elizabeth trusted that her aunt would continue to believe her tale and would not question the matter further.

  Arriving at Darcy’s townhouse, she requested a private meeting with Miss Darcy, where she stated boldly that she and Mr. Darcy had been secretly engaged since their Easter meeting at Rosings. Since Darcy had already shared some of the particulars about Lydia and Wickham's situation, Elizabeth was able to persuade Georgiana to agree that she must accompany Mr. Darcy in his search for the wayward pair.

  At first, Miss Darcy did not feel right about helping her secretly, but Elizabeth convinced the girl that she feared that Mr. Darcy
might challenge Mr. Wickham to a duel, and that she believed that only her presence would prevent it. She also called upon Georgiana to agree, at need, to corroborate the story she had told to Mrs. Gardiner.

  In turn, the young lady suggested sending a maid to Gracechurch Street to help care for Mr. Bennet in the meantime, and made enquiries with the footman about her brother’s plan. They learned that he had ordered two hire coaches and had several servants ready for the journey. They would stay in Whitstable, a small coast town near Dover. He would then change into labourer’s clothes and walk to the nearby fishing village from there on a ‘private matter.’

  “Why does my brother wish to go to the village himself, instead of sending the servants?” Miss Darcy asked.

  “I believe he is determined to confront Mr. Wickham himself. That is why I fear that a duel may be imminent. I do not want him hurt. You must help me, Georgiana. You must!”

  This last argument persuaded Georgiana to help her. So determined, the two women then dressed Elizabeth as one of Darcy’s footman and slipped her in the front of one of the carriages after Darcy was onboard.

  * * *

  By the time the coaches arrived in Whitstable, the sun had set.

  Mr. Darcy bid his men goodbye. The first village was about two miles away, on an isolated part of the shore. If the enquiry was not long, he hoped to be back to Whitstable before the night was out.

  A few metres behind, Elizabeth followed him quietly, able to trail him on level ground. When he took the downward track by the river towards the sea, however, she had more difficulty keeping up with his pace. The growing darkness hindered her progress, as well. A few moments into her downward descent, she encountered a slither of loose rock underfoot, and yelped aloud as it tumbled her down the bank to sprawl in the shallows of the slow-moving river.

  Mr. Darcy heard a cry and turned back to find what looked like a slim lad sat in the shallow water. The boy had a smear of dirt on his face, and was staring at him with very bright eyes. In fact, those eyes looked very like…

  “Elizabeth!”

  “Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth acknowledged weakly. She had hurt her ankle, and her clothes were soaked. When she tried to stand, the injured leg gave way and she slipped again.

  Mr. Darcy moved quickly toward her. Before he could grab her, she slipped back into the water and splashed more of it on both of them.

  “I told you that this was no place for a gentlewoman! Why did you not listen to reason?” Darcy hissed.

  “I do not want you to call Mr. Wickham out. And I desperately want to help you with Lydia. I know my sister, and you will need me to reckon with her. Besides, I am no gentlewoman now,” she said, gesturing down at her boy’s clothing.

  “But you have injured your foot. Now I shall have to carry you the two miles back to Whitstable. Stubborn woman! You are hindering the search, rather than helping it.”

  Before they could argue further, they heard the approaching sound of men singing. Quickly, Darcy motioned for her to climb up and ride upon his back, with her arms wrapped around his neck, and her legs around his waist. At her scandalised look, he explained curtly that it was how a big brother would aid an injured younger brother.

  “Wat yer doin’ ’ere, mate?”

  “My cousin and I were heading to Whitstable, but he fell and hurt his foot in the river just now.” Mr. Darcy said.

  “Whitstable be two miles on. Storm’s a comin’. Ye’d best stay till mornin’. My brother, John, has a hut at Herne Bay that’d be closer. Stay there, if y’like.”

  Darcy looked up to the sky and agreed. He nodded and followed the men along the river to the sea, where they were taken to the hut of one of the fishermen. His family shared the hut with his brother and his wife. Darcy and Elizabeth were given the brother’s room. The bed filled up most of the space in the room, without even a chair to sit on.

  John’s wife, Margaret, asked to have their wet clothes laid out for drying, and gave them trousers to wear for the time being. Inside the room, Elizabeth’s face turned bright red. She could not wear nothing but trousers, and yet she could not refuse to give Margaret her clothes. It would look too suspicious. Mortified, she looked at the bed and whispered to Mr. Darcy, “Pray, turn your back. I will remove my clothing and stay in the bed. You shall give the clothes to Margaret for drying. You must plead a headache for me, as I have no clothes that will permit me to go outside.”

  Mr. Darcy turned his back and listened to the slithering noises behind him until Elizabeth said he could turn around. The wet clothes she had worn were now draped on the edge of the bed, and she had lain out another long piece of cloth near the window. She was lying under the bed sheet, and had pulled it up all the way to her neck.

  Mr. Darcy said, “Should I not take that piece of cloth by the window out to Margaret as well?”

  “No, she would find it strange that I possess such a piece of clothing.”

  “Why?”

  “I used it to…”

  “To what?”

  “To bind my bosom.”

  “Oh!” Darcy exclaimed, flustered by the thought of her binding up her beautiful breasts. He said quickly, “It is you who must close your eyes now. I need to change.”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes, silently listening as he removed his wet clothes and donned the dry ones. “I am finished." He said.

  When she opened her eyes, she wished she had not. Although she was a country girl, and had seen many farmers without their shirts working in the hot sun, she was not prepared for the sight of a shirtless Mr. Darcy. His body was nothing like that of most farmers. His chest looked smooth and muscular. He was about to collect all of the clothes to leave the room when Elizabeth called out to him in a low voice.

  “Mr. Darcy, you will not do.”

  Darcy turned to look at her.

  “You do not look like a labourer,” she confided.

  He looked at his trousers and said, “These are a fisherman’s trousers, though too short for me.” He must be five inches taller than the owner of the clothes. Elizabeth could see that much of his calf exposed by each pant leg.

  Colouring, she tried again. “I mean…your chest. You look… too clean and tidy.”

  “Oh!” He looked around the room and spotted a broken bucket of herbs on the window sill. Scooping up a handful of dirt, he smeared some of it judiciously on his face, chest and exposed legs.

  Elizabeth was mesmerised by his actions. She felt as if she were spying on him, as if he was taking a bath, a dirty bath.

  “Will I do now?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She averted her gaze and whispered shyly.

  Looking reassured, he nodded his thanks curtly and left her there.

  * * *

  To Elizabeth’s surprise, Mr. Darcy returned shortly with a small meal for her, and then left the room again, informing her calmly that John and the other fishermen had invited him to join them for a drink.

  The sounds of a storm raged outside the hut. Elizabeth was exhausted after her traumatic day. She could hear the men’s loud talking and singing outside her bedroom for endless hours. She reminded herself that she would need to collect the cloth by the window, as soon as it was less wet, so that she could bind herself again. She felt exposed lying on the bed, wearing only a pair of borrowed trousers, but she was too tired to move. Finally, she closed her eyes, intending to do so only for a moment…and was startled to awaken with a warm body by her side. Darcy was stretched beside her, his arm draped over her waist. His face was nestled close to hers. And he smelt of alcohol.

  “Mr. Darcy! What are you doing in my bed?” Elizabeth whispered in agitation, trying to push him away.

  Drowsily, Darcy replied, “Sleeping. The bed fills… the whole room. Where else can I sleep but here on the bed?”

  “But you are most improperly attired!”

  “As are you, since they gave us no shirts.” Instead of releasing her, he brushed his splayed fingers over her breasts. “Your skin is so smooth, Eliza
beth. I love your… bosom. I have wanted to touch and kiss your… breasts for so long, as earlier as when we were at… Netherfield.” His hand rubbed around the creamy mound in a circular motion. “Firm and pert.” His fingers plucked at her nipple. “Like a rock! How I long to… suckle it, as I have done in my dreams.”

  Elizabeth could scarcely believe that he had had such thoughts about her so early in their acquaintance. His hand and fingers were creating sensations in her body which she had never before experienced. She glowed with warmth and felt a tingling wetness gathering between her legs. However, her years of training in how to properly behave as a gently bred lady would not let her allow him to continue to take such liberties. She pushed his hand away and said breathlessly, “Mr. Darcy, you are drunk! Go to sleep.”

  A drunken Darcy seemed far more obedient than the sober counterpart with whom she was used to dealing. He stopped caressing her. But he seemed more inclined than usual to talk as well. He murmured, “Cheap alcohol would not make me drunk. I am simply feeling… happy. Did you know that Whitstable is famous for its… oysters? They tell me that oysters are good for the men. It makes them go… on and on. You know, on and on… with their women. Do you want to try?

  “No? …Ah well, we could not…try it anyway. All of the oysters are for sale. The fishermen are not allowed to eat their catch. These particular fishermen are really surprisingly nice. We talked and sang. I did not know I had such a…baritone voice. Do you want to hear me sing? … No? …You know, John was telling me that I should teach you better manners.”

  “Manners…?! Whyever were you talking about me in such a regard?”

  “They said you seemed like a…milksop, hiding your face against the back of…my neck while we were walking down to the sea, and claiming that a…headache prevented you from coming out to drink with us. I told them that my…cousin was young and innocent, and that I did not want them to… corrupt him, just yet.” Mr. Darcy chuckled, seeming to like his own joke.