by Delaney Jane
My goodness, thought Jane, how could anyone have such blue eyes?
“Perhaps I might read to you?”
She almost laughed. Would have, if it did not hurt her head to even consider it. Whenever Lizzy managed to get their mother away from the ill Jane, she would sneak into their room and read to her.
“I would like that,” said she.
Charles left a moment, Jane’s eyes fluttering closed. When he returned his arms were so full of books she could not see his face. He set them on the nightstand, most tumbling to the floor. He gave her an apologetic smile, his face pink, and then selected one at random.
“I haven’t had the pleasure of investigating the library at length,” said he, taking his seat again. “I am embarrassed to confess that I do not generally find time to read for pleasure. But, Fitzwilliam reads plenty, and he found these for us.”
The book in his hand had a plain cover, the title something along the lines of a mystery. Charles cracked open the book and began to read. His voice took on a deeper tone, lulling Jane into relaxation. She closed her eyes, letting his slumberous reading sink into her bones.
Chapter Five
Deception and Debauchery
Well, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the note aloud, “if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness, if she should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley, and under your orders.”
“I told you she should have taken the carriage,” Lizzy snapped at her mother. She held Jane’s letter in her hand, where her sister related that she had fallen ill after going on horseback in the rain to attend Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst and would be stuck at Netherfield until she was feeling better.
Mrs. Bennet just smiled, her younger daughters about the room, all of them bored with the rain lashing at the windows. “She will be fine,” said the woman. “She will be well tended, and while she is there, she and Bingley will fall madly in love. It was perfectly clever of me, wouldn’t you say?”
Lydia smiled up at her mother while Kitty brushed her hair.
Elizabeth threw up her hands, letting the letter sail toward her mother as she stormed toward the front door.
“Where are you going, Elizabeth?” came her mother’s warning tone.
“To check on Jane and make sure you haven’t killed her.”
Mrs. Bennet shouted. “Do not mess this up for her with your sour mood!”
With her mother’s voice ringing in her ears, Elizabeth stepped into the rain and set off for Netherfield on foot.
It may have been her mother’s plan that Jane should become stuck there and have to spend days in Bingley’s company on the hope that the pair would fall madly in love, but Darcy was a clever fellow who would see through this folly.
Elizabeth would not have Jane’s intentions thought of as anything less than pure. So, Elizabeth walked all the way to Netherfield, three miles through mud, her petticoats a disaster upon arrival.
After seeing that Jane was quite sicker than she let on in her letter, and after the suggestion that she remain at Netherfield as well, Elizabeth found herself sitting in the drawing room while the Bingleys, the Hursts, and Mr. Darcy played cards.
It did nothing for her feelings toward Mr. Darcy that he kept a cold distance from her for the first couple of days. Bingley, for his part, was incredibly warm toward her, which made her stay much less intolerable.
After Mr. Bingley kindly showed her the books in the room, and offering to go to the library and get her some more, to which she gently refused, Lizzy picked a book and sat to read. She found it hard to concentrate, though, as Miss Bingley, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Darcy spoke about Darcy’s home, Pemberley and his sister. Miss Bingley praised the young girl on all she could do, which sent Mr. Bingley praising ladies in general for being so accomplished.
It was when Mr. Darcy disagreed with Bingley about how many ladies he knew that could be considered accomplished, that Elizabeth finally spoke up.
“You must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman,” said she.
“Yes: I do comprehend a great deal in it,” Darcy replied.
To this, Miss Bingley went off on a tangent about how a lady needs to be able to sing, paint, draw, and speak well in order to be considered accomplished.
To that, Darcy added that a lady, in order to be accomplished, needed one other thing.
“No lady can be called accomplished,” said he, “if she is not also an extensive reader.”
“By your account, I am surprised at your knowing any accomplished ladies,” said Elizabeth, somewhat heated. “All that and books, too. Your perfect lady will only ever exist in your fantasies.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I think my fantasies are too risqué for any lady.”
Miss Bingley blushed scarlet.
Mrs. Hurst cried, “Mr. Darcy! Such words!”
Their brother blushed as well. “Darcy, man, there are ladies in the room.”
Darcy held Elizabeth’s gaze. “My point,” he said.
“So,” said Elizabeth, her face warm and her stomach in knots. “Since no lady can exist in your fantasy, pray tell, do you keep company with men?”
Miss Bingley gasped, as did her brother. Mr. Hurst laughed aloud, while his wife glared reprovingly at Lizzy.
Darcy’s mouth quirked, that smile he worked hard to conceal trying to find its way onto his face.
“I’m certain,” said he, “That even men would not want to be part of my fantasies.”
“You’re certain?”
“I am.”
Elizabeth held Darcy’s hard look, giving him her own. The conversation was ended when Mr. Hurst called the others back to the game of cards, having grown quite bored of waiting.
Soon after, Elizabeth retired to her sister’s room, her eyes glancing, of their own accord, at the dark eyes of Mr. Darcy at cards. As soon as she was out of the room, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst abused her. They spoke of her dirty petticoats, her rude manners, and her scandalous way with words.
Mr. Darcy mumbled his agreement, all the while distracted by the thought of Miss Bennet’s mouth.
Elizabeth spent most of the night at Jane’s beside. When the candles burned too low to read by, she finally took her leave, her sister sleeping almost peacefully. She was not long in her room, her dress at her feet, standing only in her slip, that her door creaked open.
Miss Bingley, her blonde hair pulled into a braid over her shoulder, her dressing gown something light and pale, slipped into Lizzy’s room, closing the door with a soft click before turned to face Miss Bennet.
Her cheeks went pink, and she whispered. “Miss Bennet,” said she. “There is something I wish to ask of you. You may desire to say no, though I hope not. While we are not close, I would offer that we have similar interests.”
Eliza stared at Miss Bingley completely confused. “Similar interests?”
She nodded. “Yes. You and I both wish to find a husband of some wealth.”
Before the other could go on, Lizzy stopped her with a look. “If that is your interest, I am afraid we do not have much in common.”
“Well I—all right.” She worried her bottom lip. “Then perhaps we both at least have an interest in being the sort of wife—or, um, friend, that is able to be the sort of woman a man needs?” Miss Bingley turned her big blue eyes on Lizzy, waiting.
“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
Caroline Bingley shuffled a bit closer, lowering her voice. “You seem to be somewhat knowledgeable in, um, that which happens between a man and a woman when they are, um alone?”
“Do I?” Lizzy asked, her cheeks going pink in the low light from her fireplace.
“Forgive me for assuming so, but yes. The way you conversed with Mr. Darcy today led me to believe you know, at least, what happens.”
Lizzy thought back to the days before she had been intimate with Mr. Darcy. Even then she had an idea as to what happened between men and women
in the bedroom. She had read extensively, and so she had a very good idea. Was Miss Bingley so sheltered that she was completely clueless?
“Lets say that I do have an idea,” said Lizzy. “What are you asking of me?”
At this, Caroline blushed deeper still. “Well, I thought that, perhaps, if you were not too opposed, you would show me?”
Lizzy opened her mouth to decline, but Caroline rushed on.
“It’s just that, my sister, Louisa, is always teasing me about how much it will hurt, how much I will cry, how I will dread the nights. I fear she is right. What if I hate it when my husband touches me? What if I fear him?” Great tears had welled in her eyes, threatening to spill down her soft cheeks.
“Have you not read any books on the matter?”
She puckered her lips as though tasting something sour. “We were not allowed to read such books. And since Louisa went into marriage without knowing anything in advance, she is determined that I do the same.”
Lizzy sighed. “What would you have me do?”
“Is there no comfort you can give me? You may not want to be a wife, but it is my dearest wish, and how shall I look to him if I cower in fear every time he comes near to me?”
She was not about to admit to having been with Darcy, especially not to Caroline Bingley, but she could offer the woman some comfort. After all, she was letting her and her sister stay in their home while Jane gets better.
“It will not hurt. Perhaps at first, as far as I’ve read, but after a moment you will enjoy it.”
Caroline stepped closer, wringing her hands. “But what will I enjoy?”
Lizzy chewed her bottom lip. She could not show Caroline exactly what happens, but she could at least, without breaking any barriers, show her what to expect.
“Well,” said Lizzy. “The part where he puts his manhood in you is something I can’t explain. But, I’m sure at some point he will want you to put your mouth on him, and his on you.”
“On me? A kiss?”
“No, um,” she glanced at the door. “Take off your nightdress and lie on the bed.”
At this Caroline blushed scarlet. “I beg your—”
“I will show you what to expect, and that is quite enjoyable, but you have to do as I say.”
Miss Bingley threw her own glance at the door and then she did as she was told. Naked, she was as soft and pale as Lizzy would have imagined. The firelight cast a warm glow over her small, round breasts as she lay on the bed.
Lizzy stood at the foot and knelt between Caroline’s ankles. Caroline held her breath, her eyes on Lizzy, as she pushed her hand between Caroline’s knees and opened her legs.
Miss Bingley squeaked, her hands darting down to cover the soft, yellow curls, but Lizzy pulled her hands away. It was interesting to see it from this point. She used her fingers to find the folds and move them. Caroline shuddered and gasped at her touch. Lizzy found the small nub and gave it a quick rub.
Caroline cried out, slapping a hand over her mouth quickly. Back to her task, Lizzy slid her fingers down until they slipped into Caroline’s opening. She did not push too far, but rubbed just inside, watching as Caroline squirmed, her hands clasped hard over her mouth.
Smiling at the power she felt, Lizzy bent forward and put her mouth on Caroline’s mound. She licked the nub, earning a spasm from Caroline, and then she sucked it into her mouth, her fingers moving just inside her hole.
As Lizzy worked, she heard a small creak. Caroline was oblivious to it. Lifting her head, and using her fingers on Miss Bingley’s nub, Lizzy glanced at the door.
It was now open a crack, and just outside stood a tall, dark figure, watching them. Without a shred of doubt, Lizzy knew who it was, and it made her wet between her thighs. With a surge of excitement, she went back to her task, doubling her efforts, and smiling when Caroline grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed into it.
Legs shaking, it did not take long for Caroline to reach her climax. Lizzy’s tongue danced over Caroline until she was jerking and limp on the bed.
Looking over her shoulder, Lizzy watched the figure slip away.
Caroline gasped on the bed. “My God! That is amazing!”
“So you’ve nothing to fear,” said Lizzy wiping her mouth on Caroline’s discarded nightdress. “Now you can look forward to your wedding night and many nights thereafter.”
Not long after, Caroline snuck down the hall to her room, whispering her thanks to Elizabeth as she went.
Lizzy, standing in her open doorway, her back to the hall behind her, felt him come up and stand at her back. She felt the heat of him, smelled the musk of him.
She spoke over her shoulder. “It is not the gentlemanly thing to do to spy on others.”
“No,” he said, his voice rich and husky. “But you did not stop when you saw me.”
“I was not about to disrupt her pleasure because you were stalking doorways.” She turned and met those dark eyes. “That would have been most undesirable. Especially since it is for you that she so wanted to learn.”
He was standing quite close, his hands brushing against her hips as he spoke. “Ah, but she and I can never be.”
“Oh, no?”
“A marriage between us would not benefit me.”
“Because she is not as rich?”
He frowned. “No, Miss Bennet, because she could never please me. You saw how quickly she came for you.”
“She could learn.”
“I do not wish to marry a student. I wish to marry a partner.”
At the heat in his eyes, Lizzy looked away. “Well, I do not wish to marry.”
“No,” said he. “I believe you do not. However, I believe it is your desire to expand your knowledge beyond what books can tell you. Am I correct?”
Her breath hitched, as she kept eye contact. “You are.”
He smiled. “It pleases me immensely that you do not waste time with feigned denials. You want, and so you say it. Tell me, Miss Elizabeth, did it make you wet to see me watching you?”
She blushed, about to say no, lest she admit to something horrible about herself. But he took her chin in his hand and looked into her eyes.
“Tell me the truth.”
“Yes,” said she. “It did.”
“Did what?”
She swallowed. “It made me wet.”
“Well then, shall I show you what it is like? To watch others?”
He held out his arm, and with a moment’s hesitation, Lizzy took it. He led her down the hall, her bare feet cushioned by the thick carpet running down the length of the hallway. They stopped before a door, into which Darcy steered her. It was a small drawing room, quiet and dark. Another door at the far end was partially open. It was in front of this that Darcy set Miss Bennet, showing her what was happening in the next room.
Her gasp was inaudible.
Candles burned on every flat surface, and a fire warmed the room beyond. Elizabeth watched, as Mrs. Hurst stood naked, holding onto the bedpost, her hands tied to it, and Mr. Hurst knelt behind her, his face smashed into her buttocks. Mrs. Hurst moaned into a gag much like the one Lizzy herself had used some time ago.
Lizzy began to back away, feeling most indecent, but Darcy’s hands snaked around her, cupping her breasts and kneading.
He whispered into her hair. “Will you stay and watch with me?”
Elizabeth hadn’t realized that she was clutching his trousers, pulling him against her so that his hard shaft pressed against her buttocks though her nightdress. She ground against him, turning her head so that she could bite his earlobe.
Darcy growled his pleasure. He gripped the neck of her nightdress and pulled it down, her breasts spilling out and into his hands. He kissed her neck, his tongue sliding over her throat, his hands palming her breasts, as she watched the Hursts in the other room.
Mrs. Hurst stood bent in half, her hands high above her head, tied to the post as they were, and she had spread her legs as far as they would go. Mr. Hurst knelt behind her, h
is face buried in her ass, moving about like a calf at the udder. Lizzy watched his hand in his lap, tight around his cock and moving at an alarming speed. The sounds coming from the room were wet and loud, the slapping of skin, the slurp of tongue.
Feeling brave, Lizzy reached behind her, found the waist of Darcy’s trousers, and slipped her hand inside. He hissed into her ear, one of his hands leaving her breast to open his trousers and make it easier for Lizzy to slide further down and grasp his cock.
She shuddered, as her hand slipped over the silky head of him. He was large and quite hard, filling her hand. Stroking him slowly, Lizzy relished the way he held his breath, his body still as she explored. She stroked down until her fingers found the coarse curls and then the heavy sack. It was warm and soft in her hands, and Darcy gripped her hips, swaying behind her.
Watching the Hursts, Lizzy’s desires made her brave. She tugged at Darcy’s trousers, until he complied and pulled them off completely. And then she took his cock in her hand and, through her nightdress, rubbed the tip of him along the space between her buttocks. He held tight to her hips. When she glanced back, she saw he was watching her move, his dark eyes hooded.
She rubbed him against her, panting against the sensation, squirming with needing him closer. Mrs. Hurst began to scream into her gag, but Mr. Hurst did not relent. Instead, he picked up a wooden paddle and smacked her so hard on the buttock that the sound resonated in their room, and Mrs. Hurst screamed again. He smacked her again and again, and then he dropped the paddle and pushed his fingers up into her.
Lizzy turned round, her breath catching in her eagerness, and she rubbed the head of his cock against her nub, the thin nightdress making for a deliciously scratchy barrier.
He stood before her, panting, his hips bucking slightly into her hand, and kneaded her breasts. But he let her do as she pleased, and that urged her on.
Before she lost her nerve, Lizzy dropped to her knees, kneeling so that she could see the Hursts, and with a glance up at Darcy, she took him in her mouth. The others would have heard the sound he made if they themselves were not being so loud. Lizzy allowed herself a smile before pulling him from her mouth, clamping her lips down, and sliding him as deep into her throat as she could.