Bargain With the Devil

by Enid Wilson

  “When did I say I would kiss your eyes?”

  “Oh, Fitzwilliam, you delight in vexing me!”

  “You are starting to talk like your mother already. I was hoping you would not do that until you reached the grand old age of fifty.”

  “Those are the most unkind words you have uttered in our acquaintance! Heartless man, to compare me with Mama.”

  They bantered and exchanged hot, sensual kisses until they emerged from the maze. Engrossed in one another, the happy couple entered the house via the side entrance, never once stopping to wonder whether their intimate moments were being observed by a pair of disapproving eyes.

  Chapter Six

  Mr. Darcy took a soothing sip of port, then rested his head on the settee in his bedroom.

  This, he thought with satisfaction, was a tremendously important day. His second proposal had met with success. Finally, he had won the heart of his beloved. He felt wonderful, not feel tired at all, and he wanted to savor every remaining moment of the day.

  The return of Mr. Darcy with his new fiancée in his arm to the house had been met with an array of raised eyebrows and loud exclamations. After explaining about Elizabeth’s injured ankle, the couple had retired to their separate bedchambers for some rest.

  It transpired that Elizabeth’s ankle was not seriously hurt, and she was able to walk almost normally soon afterwards after being tended to by the doctor. They spent the afternoon and dinner in a pleasant manner. He was not a man of many words in front of people. His thoughts were focused on the scorching kisses that he and Elizabeth had shared in the maze. His eyes were filled with phantom visions of Elizabeth, bedecked in simple, elegant dresses, gracing the rooms of Pemberley. In the present moment, he was quite content to simply rest his gaze upon Elizabeth, thinking all manner of pleasant thoughts about her and about their future together.

  The only sour turn of the day was the unexpected intrusion, before dinner, of Mr. and Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley. The travellers said they were on their way to visit friends in the next county, but that their carriage had broken down not far from Pemberley. Mr. Darcy had no decent choice but to offer to host them for a day or two, until their carriage could be repaired.

  Miss Bingley was exceptionally polite to his invited guests, which he thought a bit strange, as she had previously been most uncivil to Elizabeth. He was also suspicious of their arrival. It was too much of a coincidence. But he would not allow them to distract him from his pleasure.

  He had even taken the time, before preparing to retire, to visit the connecting bedroom. He unlocked all the doors, drew aside the curtain and looked around the mistress’s room. He opened the cupboards and drawers, and imagined visiting Elizabeth there when she was finally his wife. It was a happy thought indeed.

  Now, as the day drew to a close, Mr. Darcy took another sip of the port and turned his mind to their future, then started, his eyes widening with surprise, as he saw the connecting door to the mistress’ bedchamber begin to open.

  * * *

  She had bent her wits to listening to the servants and questioning Miss Darcy in the most cunning way, both before and after dinner, determined to carry out her plan: she wanted Mr. Darcy to be hers tonight, not a moment later.

  Having obtained the necessary intelligence about his routine, she found it rather easy to find her way, and was relieved not to have to go to him via the servant’s entrance, for she found that the door of the mistress’s room was not locked. The curtain was drawn aside, granting her a glimpse of the interior. A dreamy smile spread on her face. Walking to the connecting door, she turned the knob and slowly pushed open the door, where Mr. Darcy looked gratifyingly astonished by her visit.

  “Elizabeth! What are you doing here?” He sat up quickly, nearly spilling the port from his glass Elizabeth locked the door behind her and stopped there, gazing at him. She was wearing a simple day dress in yellow, but the décolleté was daring. Her breathing was quick and shallow, from the adventure of seeking him out, and from seeing him without his coat and cravat. His shirt gapped open, allowing her a glimpse of his virile chest. He was still in his tight breeches, resting comfortably on the settee by the fire, with legs apart. She could not help but stall a glance at his bulge, although she diverted her gaze away immediately from the impressive sight.

  Softly, she whispered, “Fitzwilliam, make me yours.”

  She saw him frown, as if he had not heard – or did not understand – what she had just said. The room was nearly silent for a moment, with only the crackle of the fire as counterpoint to their heavy breathing.

  Mr. Darcy put the glass down, then stood, and walked slowly over to her. Placing his hands lightly on her shoulders, he asked softly, “Elizabeth, have you thought clearly about this?”

  She shivered from the potent contact of his touch. He was too tall, too big. Shaken, she took his hand and led him back to the settee, pushing him to sit down again. Standing in front of him, she took a deep breath and said, “I have been thinking about this for months. One can be so full of life and laughter one minute…and then, unexpectedly, one be gone, in the blink of an eye. Fitzwilliam, I love you. I want to be with you. Even if you had not proposed to me, this morning. Even if you had not offered me any position in your life. I have been determined about this for quite a long time. I want to be yours. Now.”

  Mr. Darcy inhaled, breathing in her sweet lavender scent, then closed his eyes, overwhelmed by a multitude of emotions. He could scarcely believe what he had just heard. She has loved me all these past months. She loves me enough to abandon propriety and her reputation. She was even willing to be mine without the offer of marriage or any other proper arrangement to protect herself.

  “Fitzwilliam? Are you unwell? Did you…? Do you not want me?”

  The uncertainty in her voice aroused him from his thoughts. Opened his eyes, he pulled her onto his lap and embraced her, then released her just as suddenly, gazing deeply into her eyes. “Do I not want you? My dearest Elizabeth, I have wanted you for so very long that I can scarcely believe my good fortune. Nothing will please me more than to be united with you, joining our bodies and souls together. We are already betrothed, as far as I am concerned. It shall not be long before we are truly husband and wife.”

  “But I want to be yours now.”

  He heard her reply, yet he was still unsure what to do, as he struggled between remaining a gentleman or abandoning all principles by seizing the moment.

  “Your father…” He started to say. But when she slipped her hands inside his opened shirt and caressed his chest, he was lost completely. Her tentative fingers were burning matches that torched his body, searing him not with pain but with passion and pleasure.

  He enfolded her body again and kissed her with all the pent-up ardour of the past year. Ravenous, he wetted her lips and teased her mouth open with his tongue, thrusting inside her syrupy entrance to trace her inner muscles and duel with her soft tongue. Unable to resist, he sucked at it, drawing her tongue into his mouth.

  His hands traced her daring neckline. When his knuckles grazed her soft flesh, he felt her shiver with desire. After a few long minutes of petting and caressing every inch of exposed flesh that he could reach, he unbuttoned her dress and eased it off her shoulders. She, in turn, helped him with it impatiently, baring her bosom for his exploration.

  At that, he stopped his kisses and pushed her slightly away from him. His gaze focused on her gorgeous breasts, drinking in the deep red aureoles. He found that he accurately remembered every curve of her body from their previous encounters. Lowering his mouth, he surrendered to his need, licking and kissing her bosom with an intensity that seemed to make her lose all coherent thought as well, as his lips suckled her breast. He drew a nipple into his mouth, brushing it with his teeth, and heard her gasp with delight. Then he used his tongue to twirl around it, wetting, lapping, tasting her.

  Meanwhile, his hands were busy with other parts of her body. His left hand cupped her other breast wh
ile he gently pinched its nipple; at the same time, with a daring that left him light-headed, the fingers of his right hand stroked her inner thighs. He was painfully aroused, his straining manhood heated against her bottom, making her squirm on his lap.

  It was too much for him. He pushed her to stand up and pulled the dress further down. It dropped to the floor and pooled around her feet. He devoured her naked upper body with his eyes before lowering them to take in her alluring undergarment, which still concealed her treasure from his prying eyes.

  Driven by need, he stood up as well, swept her up, carried her the few necessary steps, then gently placed her on his bed. Elizabeth, on his bed. His senses reeled.

  She did not cover her body but lay there, her glittering, fine eyes looking up at him trustingly. Urgently, he stripped off his shirt and pushed down the confining fabric of his breeches.

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the sight of his muscular, nude body, and he saw her swallow hard, for the first time since entering his rooms. She did not seem to be afraid of him, and she made no attempt to rise, but he could see her apprehension at viewing his naked manhood in its present magnified state.

  He lay down by her side, gently pushing a few strands of her dishevelled hair away from her face. “Dearest Elizabeth,” he murmured, kissing her forehead and then the tip of her nose. “Tell what you are thinking.”

  She swallowed again before replying, “You are so… magnificent. I am worried… I do not know how... Fitzwilliam, I am concerned that I will not be able to satisfy you.”

  “Elizabeth, my love, I know you are an innocent maiden. This is not just about me being satisfied. It is about you having pleasure as well.” He lowered his mouth and kissed her soft lips. "Trust me, my love. Let me show you. "

  When she nodded her consent, he began in earnest, restraining his ardour and exploring her body with tenderness. When he smoothed her undergarment and stockings away, his kisses followed his hands, tracing lower and lower.

  Elizabeth thrashed and arched her body.

  When he parted her legs and bestowed kiss after kiss on her secret Eden, her moans became louder and more uninhibited, as if she were purely a creature of the senses, no longer able to think, only feel. Mr. Darcy continued to ravish her body, wooing the hot lava from deep within her. When she reached the peak of her pleasure, she actually screamed aloud, clearly overcome.

  At that signal, he quickly raised his body and lodged his raging manhood against her wet entrance, pressing into her with slow insistence. She was extremely tight, but the abundance of her body's natural moisture allowed him a smooth entry into her inner core. His thick shaft delved slowly upward until he reached her virginal barrier. At that, he stopped his movements, but only for a moment, as he gazed down at her flushed face. Then, braced on knees and elbows, he returned his hands to her twin peaks, pinching and pleasuring the peaked nipples while he pressed his tongue into her mouth. After a few minutes invested in arousing her again, he felt her body stir beneath him with returning excitement. At that, he braced himself and thrust strongly into her. The sensation that rewarded this effort left him barely coherent, caught up in a rush of intense pleasure as the obstruction yielded, enabling him to become deeply engulfed within her. His final clear thought was, she is mine, finally and completely mine!

  Elizabeth cried out in pain but he muffled her shriek with kisses as he continued to thrust inward with slow, determined force, driving ever closer to her core, until at least they were joined tightly together.

  He savored that moment of complete physical union, as her tight muscles clenched around him. Elizabeth trembled and panted beneath him, but he knew that their intimate ritual had just begun. He started the rhythm of mating, slowly at first, gliding back and then pressing into her inexorably, again and again and yet again.

  Finally, under his ardent tutelage, Elizabeth began to imitate his movements, and the two of them jointly thrust and parted in harmony. Her hands stirred, rising to caress his strong back. Then, as his pace increased, she dug her fingers into his bottom and parted her legs wider, allowing him to thrust into her more easily. After endless minutes of delight, his hands abandoned her lovely breasts and slid beneath her to cup her pert derriere. He lifted her hips to meet him, thrust after invigorated thrust. Their sweaty bodies grew ever hotter and more flustered. Mr. Darcy concentrated on protracting their frantic union until Elizabeth reached her second peak, with a deafening scream. Her trembling muscles contracted, squeezing the length of his striving manhood with irresistible intensity. His control frayed, and he plunged forward, pounding into her in a few last, desperate strokes before reaching his own climax and filling her core with his precious, burning seed.

  When they both had finally calmed and caught their breath, he rolled over to the side, not wanting to crush her. Then he pulled her into the tenderest of embraces, with her head cradled on his shoulder, their legs tangled together.

  “Elizabeth, my dearest love, I have some surprising news for you. You were too distracting for me just now to reveal it."

  "What is it, Fitzwilliam?"

  "I have already obtained your father’s permission to marry you, my love.”

  “What? How can that be? We only became engaged this morning!”

  “In the afternoon, I sought a private meeting with your uncle and informed him that you had accepted my suit. He surprised me by saying that he had been in communication with your father, these past months, about my… my interest in you during your stay in London, and he also told your father about my assistance to your whole family. It seems that your father found that your recent dispirited countenance rather disheartening, and so he agreed to your traveling here with your aunt and uncle. Your father and uncle had already discussed the possibility that I would ask for your hand in marriage, and so they arranged for your uncle to be able to give his consent and approval, with your father's prior permission.”

  “I did not know that Papa was so eager to marry me off,” she said, with a shy laugh.

  “I was encouraged by your uncle’s replies, and so I determined that I would seek their consent to marry as soon as possible. I asked if your father had decreed how long the engagement must be, for I wished to marry as soon as you agreed. In fact, now that I have both your consent and your father’s. I would dearly like for us to marry in two weeks.”

  “So soon?”

  “Elizabeth, my love, I cannot bear to part with you any longer. I have suffered and missed you terribly, these past six months.”

  “What did my uncle say?”

  “That he and your father had already anticipated the question, and that he could have the Longbourn church ready at any time that pleased you. As you well know, your father takes much delight in being a student of human nature, and he told your uncle that I would most likely prove to be a very impatient man.”

  For a moment, Elizabeth blushed and tried to retain her composure. Then she abandoned the effort, and the laughed out together regarding this remark of Mr. Bennet’s.

  “Yes, we are both very impatient,” she conceded.

  Darcy caressed Elizabeth’s body and rested his hand on her abdomen. “We may as well be, since we have just anticipated our public marriage vows. Even though, privately, I have always considered you my wife, we may already have conceived a child just now, so what say you, my love? We could announce our engagement tomorrow and travel back to Longbourn in the next few days. Would that meet with your approval?”

  She smiled and nodded her head in agreement, then slowly closed her eyes. It had been an exhausting and yet an exhilarating day for them both. He could sense her weariness, so he positioned her to lie close against him, then whispered sweet, loving words to her ears alone. Finally, content with the world, they drifted off to a peaceful sleep together.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, at the other end of the house, Miss Caroline Bingley was busy preparing for a most specific ritual. The last few weeks had been extremely busy but fruitful. At the beginning
of summer, she had been most unhappy when, due to health concerns, Mr. Darcy cancelled his invitation to her brother to spend time at Pemberley. She had gone to his townhouse in London, on the pretense of visiting Miss Darcy but hoping, in truth, to see the elusive man while she was there. Her attempt, however, had been unsuccessful. He did not receive any visitors. Then, not long ago, she had been alarmed to learn that her brother had decided to return to Netherfield. Although she tried earnestly to dissuade him, she had failed in that plan, as well. He had been uncharacteristically tight-lipped about the journey, saying only that he wanted to tidy up some loose ends concerning the estate and perhaps also do some hunting.

  But she was an intelligent woman. She instructed one of the servants to inform her about the goings-on in Hertfordshire. She soon learned that her foolish brother had renewed his address to Miss Bennet, and that he had, in fact, been instrumental in sabotaging Caroline's grand plan to ensnare Mr. Darcy in marriage for herself. Charles even helped to pass on a letter from the Darcys to invite that country chit, Eliza, to visit Pemberley.

  Miss Bingley had been so enraged by this news that she smashed a flower vase in the morning room, upon reading that particular piece of intelligence. She was furious with both her brother and Mr. Darcy. Who is this country upstart? My Mr. Darcy must be blind and mad to be entrapped by that impertinent nobody. She has no beauty, no wit, no manners. Her family is a shameful association. They have no connections or social status. I will find a way to make Mr. Darcy see the wisdom of having me as the mistress of Pemberley!

  Just when Caroline was practically tearing her hair out as to what to do, she had happened to overhear one of the maids talking about an all-powerful witch who could cure people of illness or capture any woman’s heart's desire. She became obsessed with finding that witch and, at whatever cost, obtaining her secret assistance.