by J L Pearl
Morning was quiet in the Bennet house, an uncommon occurrence. Elizabeth slept late, having exerted herself, and when she rose she found she was not the only one of her sisters to have stayed so long in bed. Only Jane was awake and dressed.
“Lizzie,” Jane said, meeting her at the foot of the stair, “I am so relieved to see you. But quick now, be dressed, make yourself ready!”
“Do you think he will call again today?”
“I think he will call imminently!”
Elizabeth nodded. Of course, Jane was right. Mr. Bingley would want to come see that Jane had slept well after the horrors of the night, and would want to be there in case she felt the need to unburden herself. But before she could go back and prepare, the knock came at the door.
“Miss Bennet?” Mr. Bingley called. “Are you well? May I come see you?”
Elizabeth retraced her steps.
“Lizzie!” Jane whispered urgently.
“But I’m not dressed!”
“Jane?” Mr. Bingley called. “We are leaving for now, heading south. May I see you before we go?”
Elizabeth paused, her heart pounding. We? Was Mr. Darcy leaving as well?
If Mr. or Mrs. Bennet were awake, they had not let anyone know. Jane opened the door and courtesied. “Mr. Bingley,” she said. “Please do come sit.”
“I would have you walk a pace with me again, Miss Bennet, if it pleases you,” he replied. Jane sent a long gaze back up the stairs. Elizabeth, having done a rushed job, felt highly embarrassed at the state of her dress, but she had endeavored to make herself decent, if not presentable. Now she descended.
“If my sister will accompany us,” Jane said, “I will gladly join you.”
“I am ready.” Elizabeth joined her side at the door. Mr. Darcy, beside Bingley, bowed deeply.
The day was not as fine as their last walk. The sky was overcast, the air was cool, and the ground was wet from the morning’s rain. Nevertheless Elizabeth felt she was walking a mile in the sky as she walked beside him again, so much had the events of the previous evening changed her feelings. No, she realized, that wasn’t quite right. Her feelings had not changed at all. Only her recognition and acceptance of them. She knew she would never be his, but it did not matter; she was alive, here, now, in this moment with him, and she felt every bit the wife of a knight as the servant had said.
“Are you still enjoying your accolades, Sir Knight?” she teased him as the gap between them and her sister and Mr. Bingley opened.
“If they come from you, I imagine I shall. And you, Lady Saint?”
Elizabeth smiled. “I am no saint.”
“No?” He glanced sidelong at her. “It was an act of true courage, though, Elizabeth. You have impressed yourself deeply upon me.”
His choice of words sent a thrill down her spine. Would that she could press herself against him in earnest. “I was inspired,” she replied, “by your own.”
He chuffed. “By my failure? No. Without you, that woman may have died. Her child surely would have. I could not have made it to them in time. You saw how the climb was impossible for me. But you, Elizabeth.” He paused and turned to face her.
How she loved to hear him say her name.
“You were magnificent,” he murmured.
“Is it true?” she said. “Are you leaving us?”
“Today.” His eyes took a sad look, and he gazed back over the path they had followed.
“But why?”
“Business with Bingley’s family calls us away. He is adamant that he shall return. Before last night, I confess I am not sure I would have encouraged him or accompanied him, but now…” He paused, looking into her eyes again. Was that a faint blush rising to his cheeks? She could not believe that she, Elizabeth Bennet, could undue such a man. Surely not.
“Elizabeth,” he said, his voice catching. “I am undone. In vain I have tried to suppress my feelings, but they will not be silenced. You must allow me to tell you how truly and ardently I have come to love you.”
“I…” Elizabeth’s mind raced. Time seemed to slow. “You love me?”
“I do.”
They stood silent for a moment. His eyes had grown soft and kind. There was no threat, no ultimatum. Not even a look of expectation. If anything, he seemed relieved. Relieved to have told her?
She glanced up and down the path and found they were alone. Where had Jane and Mr. Bingley got to? They must have kept walking when Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy had paused. No matter. If anyone could be trusted to be circumspect, it was Jane. In fact, Elizabeth realized, she trusted her elder sister far more than she trusted herself at just this moment.
“Mr. Darcy,” she murmured, her eyes half-lidded.
“Elizabeth,” he breathed. “I wish very much to kiss you.”
She smiled. “Then do.”
CHAPTER 8
_________
His lips.
Softer than velvet.
His intent, hotter than the flames of the fire.
He pulled her body close to his as their mouths explored each other, and she did not resist. She fell into him, felt his strength press against her. When finally he released her and they breathed, it was a gasp, both for air and for pleasure.
“I love you,” he said again. “I see it clearly now. There is no more struggle, no more doubt. No more silly games. I will love you, Elizabeth, until the very ground beneath my feet wastes away.”
“Oh, Darcy,” she whispered, raising a hand to cradle his face. His strong jaw, his hard, high cheeks, his intense eyes, softened as they were with affection, but also smoldering with passion. He was more than she had ever dreamed. More than she ever could have hoped to ask for. “And I you, my love,” she said, closing her eyes as he took her in his arms to kiss once more.
Thunder pealed across the sky. Elizabeth pulled away, suddenly concerned. They were alone, outside, where they may find themselves caught in a storm. And where had her sister gone?
Ahead of them there was a gentle rise in the path. Together the two of them ran to it and reached its apex, just in time to see two faraway figures—doubtless Jane and Mr. Bingley—enter a house off to the side, likely to take shelter from the incoming storm. The sky was growing dark alarmingly quickly.
“It seems they are taken care of,” Mr. Darcy said.
“Yes,” Elizabeth nodded. “But what of us?”
They looked about. “There,” Mr. Darcy said, indicating with his chin. A barn stood, lonely but secure, not far off. It had the look of disuse. Elizabeth laughed at the reckless impropriety of it. Then she ran.
“Catch me!” she called over her shoulder. Mr. Darcy smiled and followed.
The barn was indeed empty, save for some leftover hay and a few old blankets. Hardly the picture of comfort, but the roof was sound, and when the downpour began they found it to be dry inside.
“We’ll have to wait it out,” Elizabeth said. They stood together looking out the door, watching the ground turn to mud.
“A pity,” Mr. Darcy said, his tone warmer still. And was that playfulness she detected?
“Mr. Darcy,” she teased, “are you developing a sense of humor?”
“Oh, I assure you, I am much more developed than you might imagine.”
She stopped breathing a moment when she caught his meaning. Too late to matter. He had already pulled her close again for another kiss. And this time she could feel for herself how well he was developed as their bodies collided. She thrilled at his touch, pressing her pelvis into his. His body responded in kind.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said, “I believe you are attempting to seduce me.”
“I never attempt anything I am not sure to attain,” he replied, running his hands down her back. When they reached the curve of her buttocks and gripped, she leapt up, straddling him with her legs. He grunted, catching her.
“There, now,” she said, “call me a saint again.”
“For you, my dear? I’ll call you anything you like.”
&nbs
p; They turned from the door for some time.
Mr. Darcy spread a blanket over some of the hay, just enough to soften the ground, and they rolled on it together, taking turns. Elizabeth found herself thankful she had not had time to put on all the minutiae of her usual dress; it made undressing supremely simple. And good thing, too, as he nearly tore her garments from her body. Not that she could complain. She did rip his shirt in her haste, planting row after row of kisses on his chest as she did so. Then she stopped him, her heart thudding in her ears.
“I’ve… I’ve never been with a man, you know.”
He shook his head. “I am sorry; I did not mean to make you uncomfortable, Elizabeth! We can wait out the storm honorably as well; I am happy just to sit by your side, if that is what you want—”
“No!” She stopped him with a finger on his lips. “I want you, Mr. Darcy. I only… I want you to know, because I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
“Oh, Elizabeth.” He brought one strong arm around her and gazed into her eyes. “You could never do so. And if love is what you want, I shall make it for us!” And with that, she surrendered.
His lips.
Softer than velvet, and covering every inch of her body.
His passion, unquenchable.
After she had lain for him on her back, and he had blessed her body with her mouth, she began to laugh for the sheer joy of him. “I believe I will take a turn now, Mr. Darcy!”
“Oh?”
She pushed him back and straddled him, sitting atop him and taking him into herself. She felt his member throb as it pressed inward, and she sat, lower, deeper, rocking and gliding atop him. She was slick with desire, and though he was large, she found he came inside easily enough. A good thing, since her raging lust had taken control. She rode him in the most unladly-like of ways, bucking and grinding, making him sweat and grunt like a workhorse.
“Elizabeth!” he cried out, his face flush. “Oh, God!”
“Darcy!” she called, tearing at his hair with her fingers. “Faster!”
She felt him speed up, thrusting up from beneath her, even as his hands ran over her body, gripping, pressing her into him. As they accelerated, she felt a wave surging toward her, something immense and beyond all control, as raging as the fire and as unrelenting as the storm. “Ohhhh, God!” she screamed. “Ohhhhhhhh!!!”
“ELIZABETH!”
With her name on his sweet, soft lips, her love, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, came undone.
Later, when they were dressed again and lying still, listening to the rain, and laughing, he put his arm around her and drew her close, not with the passion of lust, but the affection of love.
“Did you mean it?” she asked. “You will always love me, Darcy?”
He looked at her, bemused. “I meant every word. I will wed you, and I will bed you, and I will love you to the end of my days.”
She nearly cried for joy. “You wish to marry me?”
He nodded. “Let the servant woman’s words be true. Be my wife, Elizabeth?”
She kissed him softly. “I will.”
THE END.
Afterword
I hope you enjoyed this story, dear reader, and I am thankful to you for reading it! Please do have a look at my Amazon author page to find more of my steamy Pride & Prejudice variations, all available to read for free with your Kindle Unlimited subscription. Ta-ta!
-JL