by Delaney Jane
The hurt broke Charlotte’s face. She blinked a few times. “Goodbye, Lizzy.”
Her anger fading with each step her friend took Elizabeth was left feeling guilty. But Mr. Collins was a fool, and Charlotte would not be happy with him. And there was nothing Lizzy could do for her.
The day did not get any better. When Elizabeth arrived back at home, she was greeted with her mother’s nose in the air at her arrival before stomping off, and then in her bedroom she found Jane, her eyes slightly red and holding a letter.
It was from Caroline Bingley telling Jane that she and her family would be staying in London for the winter and they would not be returning to Netherfield in the foreseeable future.
While Lizzy sat beside her sister, comforting her over the loss of Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth couldn’t help feeling sad for herself. Mr. Darcy was gone as well. He had sent no word to her, letting her know. Not that he would have. They had been lovers. And it was over.
Charlotte and Mr. Collins left for Hunsford where they would have a small wedding with her family and Lady Catherine. Despite the disappointment in her friend, Elizabeth went to Lucas Lodge to see Charlotte off. Mr. Collins pulled her aside and assured her that he was glad she had rejected him for he had found his true love in Miss Lucas, and were she to have said yes, he may have been the most miserable man in the world.
Lizzy congratulated him, but slipped away before he could launch into another speech. Charlotte stood by the carriage, traveling clothes on.
Before either could say anything, Lizzy leaned in and hugged her friend fiercely. For a time, neither let go. Lizzy pulled back, looking into Charlotte’s eyes.
“Write me often.”
Charlotte wiped at her eyes. “Every week.”
And like that, they were okay. Lizzy watched them leave, Charlotte’s family tucked inside with them. Lucas Lodge was quiet behind her, and she left, taking a path through the woods to get back home.
Time passed. In the winter, the Gardiners came for Christmas and they took Jane to London with them when they left. Lizzy was left her room to herself, and she spent those winter nights reading the erotica Darcy had lent her. She did not pine for him, but she did moan his name in the thoroughs of an orgasm she gave to herself in the dead of night while the whole of Longbourn slept.
Chapter Twelve
Alone in London
Jane spent her first few days in London exploring the city with her aunt. They shopped and ate in cafes, enjoying the sights of London in winter.
She had written to Caroline, before leaving Longbourn in hopes of hearing from her, but she had yet to hear from her friend. She told herself she didn’t care, and when her aunt asked if was feeling well, she smiled and told her she felt very fine.
In truth, Jane wanted to curl up in her bed and wait for a note from Caroline. She would prefer one from Charles, but that would not happen.
A week into their stay, Jane wrote to Lizzy, telling her of London, of her aunt and uncle, and of her not hearing from Miss Bingley yet. She assured her she was going to call on her when she went into town with her aunt today.
And she did. Shocked could not describe Caroline’s reaction to seeing Jane. She fussed about missing her, saying she wanted to come and visit, but Charles was so busy with Mr. Darcy.
It was not a long visit, for Caroline and Louisa were heading out. When Jane returned with Mrs. Gardiner, she wrote again to Lizzy. When she had finished, she sat in the window and watched snow flurry down over those people wandering through the street, packages under their arms. It was a pleasant area, but Jane saw none of it.
Four weeks passed.
She went to the theater with her aunt, shopping some more, and ate at enough diners and cafes to never want to eat again.
She read more of Charles’s books than she cared to count. At times, when the stirrings settled into that place between her legs, the place described so often in the books, she reached down and touched herself through her dress.
It was a sensation more than she could bear, but she wanted to know what these women were feeling. What would it be like if Charles used his hands on her the way the men in the books did?
Such a shameful thought, but she felt not guilt for thinking it, only desire.
She needed to see Caroline again, needed to find a way to see Charles.
But in those four weeks she never heard from Caroline. Not a note, not a letter.
Every night, if she could, she stayed behind while her aunt and uncle went out, waiting for a note form her friend.
Jane assumed she was very busy indeed, to let a month pass before returning Jane’s call. And while her imagination could conjure up a million excuses for her friend, she could not be fooled into believing any of them.
In all honesty, Jane did not care to see Caroline again. She was a friend, yes, but Jane had never been good with friends anyway. She tended to be too quiet, not gossipy enough for most women.
It was not Caroline from whom she wished to hear.
She was ready to swear like Lizzy and give up waiting, when she received a note from Caroline. She could come to tea tomorrow if Jane was not too busy.
Jane sent a note back right away, telling her friend she could not wait to see her.
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner left her their home and went out while Jane had Caroline over.
For all the good it did.
Caroline came in from a somewhat cloudy day looking gloomy and bothered. She sat, removing her hat, but not her coat, claiming she was cold.
Jane poured them tea and offered a small sandwich. Caroline made a face. “I’m not feeling well enough to eat.”
“Do you need anything?”
The woman sighed. “I want to apologize for not calling sooner. I have been busy.”
“Oh, that’s all right.”
They fell into an uneasy silence. Jane sipped her tea. “How is your brother?” She decided to just jump right in on that one.
Caroline’s cold blue eyes met Jane’s. “He is well. He has been spending a lot of time this past month with Miss Darcy.” She smiled, warming. “I do so love that young girl. Such a lovely, accomplished woman. Perfect for Charles, I think. And he is ever so taken with her. You should see them together. “She let out a small laugh.
Jane managed a smile.
“He wanted me to tell you he sends his regards to you and your family. He couldn’t come today as he and Mr. Darcy are taking Miss Darcy to the theater.”
“Oh. How lovely.” She should have been an actor, thought Jane, for the joy she had managed to squeeze into her words, while every ounce of her being was screaming inside.
Caroline fell silent again. She had not touched her tea. She gazed around the room at the Gardiner’s things. Jane had the sudden urge to cover everything, hide it from Caroline’s scrutinizing eyes.
“Well,” said Caroline after a time. “I should be going. I am not feeling well, and I would hate for you to catch anything, lest you should become stuck here.” She laughed at her own joke.
Jane walked Caroline to the door. “Perhaps I will see you next you are in Hertfordshire.”
“Oh I doubt that,” said Caroline securing her hat. “I don’t think we’ll be going back to Netherfield again. Charles just hates the country. He’ll probably sell the place before long.”
It was all she could manage to say while looking into those cold blue eyes, so unlike Charles’s.
Miss Bingley left, and Jane stood in the open door, staring at the swirling snow until the maid came and shut the door, sending Jane to the parlor where a fire burned.
She didn’t feel it.
For hours she stared into the fire. Only when her aunt and uncle returned did she move. And then it was to write a letter to Lizzy, letting her know what she thought of Miss Caroline Bingley, Charles, and assured her sister that she was not, and probably never had been, in love with him.
It would be easy to convince Lizzy of this. Jane rarely had trouble convincing people of the pie
s she wanted them to believe. It was making herself believe the lie that was the hard part.
Chapter Thirteen
Ardent Affection
Mr. Darcy looked just as he had been used to look in Hertfordshire, paid his compliments, with his usual reserve, to Mrs. Collins; and whatever might be his feelings towards her friend, met her with every appearance of composure. Elizabeth merely curtseyed to him, without saying a word.
Ever since their night together, hidden away during the Netherfield masked ball, Lizzy had heard not a word from Darcy, which was all well and good. He had called her ‘his’ and she had kissed him. For weeks she worried about his having spilled his seed inside her, but then her monthly bleed came, and her worries were over. It was her fervent desire not to marry for anything less than love, and a surprise baby would change those plans.
That she had felt the smallest moment of disappointment meant nothing, and if it meant something, Elizabeth would not dwell on it long enough to worry.
Darcy was gone, and Elizabeth was left to her thoughts.
She thought about that week she spent at Netherfield. She thought about the ball. She thought about the books Darcy had lent her. She thought about him while she read them. It seemed as though she did not stop thinking about Mr. Darcy, which was not at all what she ought to be doing.
One day while Elizabeth sat in a chair under her bedroom window, the bed feeling too large since Jane had been away, she was thinking about Darcy. One of his books, her favorite, was in one hand and her other was between her thighs, her fingers brushing against her mound, the cool air from the open window swirling up her dress and chilling the wetness there.
As the pirate in the book tore open the corset of the woman, sucking her nipple into his mouth, Elizabeth spread her legs, opening herself to the room and the bright day outside her window. His lips moved down her stomach and her slit, until his tongue plunged into her, making her scream. Elizabeth slid her fingers into her curls and she stroked her clit slowly, her hips moving to meet her hand, her eyes speeding over the page. She was just thinking about getting the phallus Darcy had given her, when the sound of footsteps stomped down the hall. Elizabeth righted herself, tucking the book under her, damning her whole family for being the nosey busybodies they were, and waited.
A moment later her younger sister, Kitty, barged into her room. She brandished a letter at Elizabeth.
“You’ve a letter from our new cousin,” she said and tossed the envelope across the room, too lazy to bring it all the way in. She was gone as quickly as she came in.
Lizzy tore open the latter baring the name of her dear friend, Charlotte. It was an invitation to join her father, Sir William Lucas on his journey up to see her, and stay with her and her new husband, Mr. Collins, at Hunsford for a few weeks, if she were not too busy to attend them.
It was an easy decision. Lizzy said goodbye to her father, whom she would miss the most, and to Wickham when she visited Meryton with her sisters before leaving.
Her was perfectly friendly toward her. He had another woman in his sights, and while Lizzy felt pity for the woman, she was not at all upset to leave behind the pretty George Wickham.
The next morning Elizabeth was gone.
It was chilly and gray, rain sprinkling onto her head. She traveled with Sir William and his wife, the former speaking most of the way. They had spent a night in London with the Gardiners, Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle, at the home of which Jane was currently staying.
It was good to see Jane and really see how she was doing with Bingley having gone away so suddenly this past winter. He hadn’t written to her in a month, and while Jane’s letters to Lizzy were all hope and happiness, Elizabeth could see now that it was taking its toll. She appeared ill and tired, and it worried Elizabeth.
Before leaving the next morning, the Gardiners invited Elizabeth on a tour with them this summer, out to the lakes. Lizzy had gratefully accepted, and was soon on her way with Sir William and his wife.
She arrived at the Collins’ home in Hunsford and was greeted quite enthusiastically by her cousin, Mr. Collins. Married though he was, he was still long of breath and quite boring. Thankfully, Charlotte came to her rescue.
While Elizabeth spent a few days enjoying the peace and quiet as the flowers outside began to bloom, bringing in the scent of March spring, she wrote many letters to Jane and to her mother to let her know how everything was going. Her mother fished for gossip, but Lizzy played ignorant to it.
Many nights Elizabeth lay awake, thinking, and often she could hear Charlotte and Mr. Collins in the room a few doors down. They made love in such a way as to make Elizabeth wonder if Mr. Collins were actually in there with Charlotte. The sounds of their love-making prompted Elizabeth to close her eyes and touch herself, imagining, usually, Mr. Darcy with his face between her thighs, his tongue, hot and wet, stroking her nub.
She would rub herself until she came, the release not entirely what she needed, but it was enough to help her sleep anyway.
A couple of days after arriving in Hunsford, Mr. Collins and his wife informed her that they were all to attend the Lady Catherine de Bourgh and was not impressed in the least. She was cold, cruel, and pointed out all of Elizabeth’s flaws. She left that dinner wondering how anyone so mean could be allowed to live, let alone have enough money that they felt entitled to be the way they were.
After a week Sir Lucas and his wife returned home, leaving Elizabeth time to be with Charlotte. This time was cut short by the arrival to Rosings of Mr. Darcy himself. He came with his cousin, Fitzwilliam, a strapping and conversational man, quite the opposite of Darcy.
They came to Hunsford after one of Mr. Collins’s trips to visit his Ladyship, and Elizabeth was struck dumb when Mr. Darcy entered the little house. The men informed the others that they would be staying at Rosings with their aunt for a few weeks and would be glad to see them at supper some time.
Darcy, before leaving, admired the view from a window where Elizabeth had been sitting. She stood beside him, also admiring the view of Rosings Park in the distance. He glanced down at the chair on which she had been reading and found one of his erotic books tucked into the middle of a book of sermons, as if she had been hiding it from the Collins’.
Elizabeth’s heart raced, as he peered down at her, a gleam in his eye, and set the book back down. As he joined his cousin, his fingers brushed her backside, stroking up between her cheeks, making her jump.
The next morning, before church, Elizabeth went for a walk in the morning mist. She made her way toward Rosings, taking a narrow and rarely used path. Along this path Elizabeth had discovered a beautiful gazebo beside a small creek. Once there, she climbed into the gazebo and sat, listening to the water trickle over the shiny pebbles and stones.
She felt him before she could see or hear him.
Despite the cold morning, she felt the sudden warmth of his eyes on her. Elizabeth smiled to herself and opened her legs. He was somewhere nearby, watching her, and so she lifted her dress over her ankles, her knees, and finally her thighs, exposing her mound to the morning. Hearing his sharp hiss urged her on.
She let her eyes fall almost closed, but she watched the trees for a sign of him, and went to work on herself. Her fingers rubbed her inner thigh, close to her musky folds, but not touching them. Her other hand squeezed her breasts over her dress, making her nipples hard beneath. She teased, moaned, and wriggled on the bench, yet he did not show himself.
Finally, Elizabeth slipped her fingers between her folds where the soft skin was wet and waiting.
Suddenly he was towering over her, his dark eyes hot, the front of his trousers tight over his erection. He wasted no time and knelt between her legs. Draping her knees over his shoulders, Darcy gripped her ass and pulled her close, and then he planted his face between her thighs.
Elizabeth gasped, biting her lip to keep from screaming. He sucked at her, flicking his tongue over her sensitive nub, driving it into her, all while squeezing her ass. H
e smacked her buttock once, twice, three times, and finally she cried out. She felt his hum of pleasure against her. Mad with need, Elizabeth tore at her stays and opened her dress, her breasts falling free. Darcy reached up, smacking her hands away, and squeezed them himself.
His eyes locked with hers as her brought her closer and closer. She didn’t realize how badly she had been missing him until this moment. She wrapped her legs around his shoulders, pulling him closer, urging him faster.
He released her breasts and pulled away from her mound. Elizabeth shot him a look, but he only smiled. He trailed his fingers over her, pressing between her folds, over her hard nub, and then slid two into her hole. For a moment he only watched his fingers as he drove them into her. Elizabeth reached for him, wanting to please him as well, but he swatted her away, giving her a disproving look. She glared back at him and tried again. Too quick and too strong, Darcy managed to grab Elizabeth’s wrists in one hand and push her down on the bench. His body covering hers, keeping her still, she watched as he pulled one of his silk ribbons from his pocket and tied her hands to the bench.
She stared at him, aghast. “This is completely unfair,” said she.
He winked, a devilish gleam in his eye. “It isn’t meant to be fair, Miss Bennet.” And he went back to admiring his fingers as they slid in and out of her body. He moved at a maddeningly slow pace, making Elizabeth squirm against his hand.
“If you can’t be still while I enjoy myself,” said he, still watching his hand move. “I shall have to punish you.”
Elizabeth cocked her eyebrow. He knew her well enough to know that she would most certainly rise to the bait. Wrapping her legs around his arms, she pulled him close, pinning him to her.
He grinned before looking up at her and glaring. “I warned you.”
Strong hands took her behind the knees and pried her legs off of him. She kicked and fought, smiling, as he pulled himself from his trousers and plunged his cock deep into her. Elizabeth screamed, her body stretching to accommodate him after so long apart.