Love Calls Again

by Lucianne Elsworth

  "Jane?"

  Jane did not answer.

  "Jane? Are you not awake?"

  If she was, the minute she felt his hand upon her shoulder she would have wished she were dead. In truth, she had been placidly having the most sensual dream of her life. She was making love with Mr Darcy. They were both naked, in her bedchamber at Netherfield, and Mr Darcy was doing to her exactly the same things her sister had so generously described her earlier that night.

  In seeing Jane was not co-operating, Bingley simply pressed his now urgent loins against her thigh while most ungenerously raising the hem of her nightshirt

  Jane sighed and rippled her body against the harden bulge of her husband's.

  "Jane?"

  She merely turned round, but strangely did not lie quietly still as she usually did when her husband took his pleasure sans her nether region's co-operation.

  No. This time, spurred by her dream, Jane embraced Bingley and kissed him passionately, while she moaned something impossible to decipher.

  Growling excitedly, he thrust into her and, quite unceremoniously, was spent in a mere second after little exertion. The whole endeavour could not have lasted more than three minutes.

  That was it.

  When Jane finally woke up, she discovered she had being lying with her husband, not Mr Darcy, which was, in essentials, frustrating enough, and which consequently left her, as usual, dissatisfied.

  On the one hand Jane's excessive frustration lay in finding out that it had all been a blazing dream, but on the other the exquisite feeling it had begun to develop within her had not found release. Of course, albeit lonely and unloved, knowing she had not, in fact, fallen into adultery with her future brother was, all in all, no cause to repine. Hence, the most profound relief washed her soul. In the end, she rose, and went over to the toilet to clean herself. When she re entered the bedchamber, Charles was soundly asleep, his body spread on the mattress, his snores echoing in the vast emptiness of the room. Upon looking at him, she felt such repulsion that she almost puked. Charles was not bad, she reckoned. But he was not half the man she had fallen in love with.

  Taking a shawl, she wrapped it around her shoulders and quit the room. Elizabeth's bedchamber was merely a few steps across hers down the corridor. Of the way to her apartment she was now perfectly mistress so before the clocks had ceased to strike midnight she found herself alone, hurriedly slipping her way into her sister's bedchamber. She would seek refuge with her. At least Elizabeth did not snore. Maybe she was still awake, and they would be able to confide a bit more.

  In the gloominess of the corridor, Jane barely distinguished her own feet. She was a bit jumpy, the whole endeavour of walking down the corridor was hair-raising. Hence Jane's countenance was dejected, yet sedate in accordance to her nature; and its composure spoke her endured to the gloomy objects to which she advanced. Hands stretched forward, she tentatively felt her way until she found herself in front of Elizabeth's door.

  She knocked once.

  No response.

  Knowing that her sister would rarely wake up once she had entered in deep slumber, she attempted to open the door and peek inside. The lock yielded to her hand, with no sullen sound that could have alarmed the sleeping sister. Yet, such was the darkness that pervaded the room, she scarcely made out the bed. On tiptoe she entered: the bed was before her and in approaching it, she felt it with her hands and found it empty.

  "Lizzy?"

  Not a sound. Not even the sound of breathing.

  Elizabeth did not seem to be there. Where could she be at this late hour? Standing next to the imposing bed, in the darkness of the room, Jane pondered what to do. Should she light a candle and look for her sister? Perchance she merely went for a book in the library as was her custom at home. But then again, she remembered this room in particular had a varied collection of books on display. Maybe she was sleepless and went for a turn outside. Glancing towards the garden, she felt that notion seemed altogether unlikely for it was raining. She was on the point of retreating as softly as she had entered, when the sounds of footsteps, she could hardly tell whose, made her pause. Next, she heard a light knock at the door.

  "Come in." she said instinctively.

  She saw a tall figure emerging from the corridor and she immediately felt the powerful arms of a man in wet clothes wrapping her, cold hands sliding under her gowns, grabbing her waist from under her nightshirt, warm lips kissing hers with unbeknown passion. Such was her astonishment, she had no time to react.

  "Why did you not come?" said her unexpected lover, his face sunk in her hair. The horrific realisation that she was been held by Mr Darcy left her completely dumbfounded. Without waiting for her answer, Darcy dove into her lips and kissed her anew. Jane pressed her lips fiercely and muffled a helpless: "Mr Darcy, no." while she endeavoured to disentangle herself from his ferocious embrace. Oblivious to her pleadings, in quitting her lips, Darcy employed his mouth in tracing a trail of hot kisses on her neck, inhaling deeply in her hair.

  Oh, Gracious Lord! "Mr Darcy… pray." Her sweet voice sounded strange between the gasps her throat quite involuntarily now emitted. "Mr Darcy… listen… listen to me."

  He listened not. Quite convinced he was holding the younger Bennet girl, Darcy attacked her enticing curves unrelentingly. Jane did not know what to do. Obviously, Mr Darcy had mistaken her for her sister. Her astonishment reached unparalleled proportions when she felt his burgeoning groins pulsing urgently against her thigh.

  Howbeit desirous of a man's attentions, Jane tried to fight him with the last strength still in her possession. Unfortunately, Darcy was in such bliss, nothing she could say would have persuaded him to stop. It would take Elizabeth's temple to halt such an offensive.

  But Jane was no Elizabeth. It was not in her nature to shout, or to fight, and the intelligence of Darcy's confusion added to her hesitation and embarrassment. Her humble and obedient disposition pervaded her mind, and she found it exceedingly difficult to put a stop to his ministrations. She imagined Mr Darcy's embarrassment when he should discover he was making love to his best friend's wife. How to stop him without making him feel ashamed?

  "Oh my… Mr Darcy, pray, listen…" The gentleman was now most agreeably engaged exploring her body, sweetly inhaling her hair, his hands roaming her back, her waist, her… bottom?

  She gasped in horror.

  "I became restless. So, I made up my mind to come to you. You do not mind, do you?" While he spoke these words he had his lips hotly pressed to her earlobe, as he drew the back of his fingers the length of her thighs, causing poor Jane's most sensible bottled up emotions to become irrefutably disturbed while a weak whimper escaped her throat.

  And then it happened. She was trapped in a puddle of luscious thoughts she had never known. Trapped selfishly in her own pleasure, hopelessly entranced in the enchanting lovemaking her would-be brother was so viciously bestowing on her.

  Oh, Lord!

  Jane knew that by now, any man would have already taken his pleasure between her legs. Or at least her man would have. Yet, he made no attempt to raise her hem. On the contrary, he searched for her lips as if they were the source of his life and kissed her anew, while with admirable accomplishment unbuttoning the décolletage of the night gown, alas! leaving her breast exposed to his hungry hands.

  Jane had never been… touched. Not like that.

  Nor kissed. Not, truly, deeply kissed.

  Her heart racing, her whole body a dry leaf trembling in the breeze, absolutely clueless how to disentangle herself from such an embarrassing situation, graciously and virtuously, Jane found no strength to restrain Mr Darcy from furthering his attentions. If she had meant to stop him, she should have done it first thing, for the most unexpected feelings, so long repressed, had begun to envelop her in a befuddlement of emotions. Yes, quite unexpectedly, after his increasingly alluring ministrations, Jane's fondness for Mr Darcy soon erupted into unguarded infatuated lust.

  She had unmistakabl
y grown decidedly aroused.

  Still, she could not, she must not, she… she… oh my God, what is he doing?

  He was indulging himself with the sweetness of her breasts (these had only known the touch of tiny mouths) her nightshirt offering no resistance to his intelligent hands.

  "Mr Darcy…" Oh this is so… Mmmm (gasp) Most unconsciously she placed one of her hands on his head and in a rapture of passion he most efficiently evoked in her, she gripped his hair and suppressed a moan.

  Jane's sweet voice now sounded ragged and hoarse. The enticing perfume of rose water emanating from her hair, her navel, which he was now exploring with his tongue, convinced Darcy that he was making love to the younger sister.

  "Mr…"

  Mr Darcy walked blindly towards the bed, his lover firmly gripped to his body, until both fell amidst the covers of the mattress. "Lizzy. Do not speak now. It has been so long… Allow me to…"

  "Sir, I am not…" Rising again, he kissed her with such force of passion, that Jane said no more. "Oh, God! I have missed you so," he said with urgency, his lips pressed against hers.

  The next moment he was atop her, ravenously demanding the flesh from her nether regions to the touch of his fingers, his lips sucking and licking the round orbs of her bosom. The scent of his manliness, the sensation of him atop her, was enrapturing in itself.

  If she could not stop him, at least she would enjoy it. In due time she was not only the recipient of but an eager participant in his amatory exertions. When he began to rub his loins against her nether regions, Jane was in such a state of quivering desire that she wrapped her legs around him with a ferocity than matched his own.

  Jane was in such bliss, she could barely think, and in such sweet surrender, she soon passed raptures and her own pleasure blossomed for the first time in her life.

  For it blossomed rather than erupted.

  And that was it.

  That made Darcy notice something amiss. His Elizabeth would be showing him her delight with moans and sighs, and her wild rippling at one with his rubbing against her.

  This gentle Elizabeth, though most willingly engaged in their embrace, had not uttered a single sound other than weak attempts to forestall his advances; not a syllable of encouragement, save an occasional sigh, was proffered from her throat. She was silent like a tomb.

  The cracking noise of a lightning bolt followed by a peal of thunder made Darcy raise his face and for the first time he looked at his lover. What he saw in the light afforded by the flash made him jump from the bed.

  "Good God!" he cried in alarm, startling Jane even more.

  Jane stared at him, from the most awkward position ever conceived. She was lying atop the bed, topless, legs shamelessly positioned, ready for a second round of amorous rite, her hair in complete disarray, and her emotions in perplexing confusion.

  She had definitely enjoyed Mr Darcy's ministrations.

  "Mrs Bingley? How on Earth… Why did you not…?" Unable to finish every single syllable he uttered, he gave a quick inspection to his surroundings, but in the dark he could not make out whether he had entered the right bedchamber or was, indeed in the most delicate of situations, atop the bed with Bingley's wife in Bingley's bed. Survival instincts made his thoughts immediately bring about Mr Bingley. "Where's Charles?"

  Who cares? Instead she answered most civilly, "In his bedchamber, sir."

  Still utterly disconcerted, Darcy proceeded to further his interrogation. "Where is Elizabeth?"

  "That I do not know, sir" she said demurely.

  Such was Darcy's embarrassment he could hardly explain the stupidity of his exertions to himself. Goodness! What to do now? He had been seducing his best friend's wife.

  "How came you here?" he finally asked in a voice of more than common astonishment.

  "How came I here?" she replied. "Because this is my sister's bedchamber, sir. And why should I not come hither? And may I not, in my turn, ask how you came here? The passage is at least an extraordinary a road to your apartments, sir."

  "I was… looking for… Miss Bennet."

  "Miss Bennet? A minute ago it was Lizzy to you…"

  That sentence was enough to completely undo all his defensive replies. Stammering wildly, Darcy was at a loss for words. "Mrs Bingley I… I am so, so, so sorry, Jan… Mrs Bingley, I… I am so sorry. Pray, I beg your pardon. I am so ashamed. I… I…"

  "Fear not, sir. I beg you not to tell Charles of our… misunderstanding… I must be most ashamed of myself."

  Darcy still did not finish recovering from his amazement. Had he really been making love to Jane Bingley? Indeed he had. Even worst, he had enjoyed every bit of it.

  "Jane. I cannot find enough words to apologise… I made the most terrible mistake ever conceived. I thought…" How to explain what he had thought? What was that she just said? She was ashamed? He then looked at her in perplexed contemplation. Jane had not complained. Not one bit. On the contrary, a willing participant, she had been very responsive to his lovemaking!

  So, in a voice decidedly accusatory, he spoke, "Ma'am. You should have let me know. I did not… Goodness Jane! Why did you not… tell me it was you."

  "You did not know it was me, then?" she asked in defiance while she attempted to rearrange her gown.

  "Of course I did not!" he replied scandalised. "I told you I thought you were M… Lizzy." he confessed in abashment.

  "I can see that, sir. I do not fail to understand your… exertions. Believe me. I did try to put you wise… but you seemed so… engrossed in your… mm… you did not listen."

  "I do not know what to say, madam."

  "So, do not say anything, sir. The situation is pretty obvious to me. My sister and you…" she could not finish the phrase.

  "No, no, no. She and I have reached an understanding. We are engaged. I…"

  "Engaged, sir?"

  "Well, we will soon be…"

  "So, you wished to show her your… affection?"

  "Indeed."

  "And you mistook me for Elizabeth."

  "So it seems. Were you not in her bedchamber? How would I ever imagine it was you?"

  "Well. At least now I know the… depth of your affections for my sister… Still. You can have my word, sir. I promise I will not tell anyone. This will be between you and me."

  "Absolutely." He was in such wretched distress he did not dare look up and face her.

  "Mr Darcy?"

  "Yes."

  "Pray, sir. You are not entirely to blame here. I do not know what came over me. I am very much responsible for the outcome of this encounter," she boldly confessed.

  "Jane, I am so, so awfully sorry. How will I ever begin to beg your forgiveness?"

  "Sir, I assure you. You are forgiven for the rest of your life," she said with a twinkle of tease in her voice. "Do not feel yourself so uncomfortable. What is done, is done."

  "You do not hate me, madam?"

  "Indeed I do not. 'Twill certainly be awkward, but nothing that cannot be endured." And then, very softly, almost under her breath. "I must confess I enjoyed myself immensely. Have you not?" she said cheekily.

  "Ooof course. Otherwise I would have… no, no… I do not mean that… you are not… quite the contrary, but…" he closed his eyes tight and sighed. "Pray, Mrs Bingley. I know not what I am saying."

  "Let us not say anything else, sir. If you will excuse me, I shall retire to my own bedroom. You are forgiven. I absolve you of any remorseful feeling."

  "I thank you, Mrs Bingley."

  "Jane. Will you not be my… brother soon?"

  Is she teasing me? Indeed she is. "Very well, Jane." Darcy grinned, visibly more relaxed now. "I thank you again. You are the most generous person of my acquaintance."

  "I thank you, Darcy." Darcy could not help an overwhelming pride enveloping him and he smirked most seductively. "You shall make me blush!" she said smiling.

  Darcy laughed heartily. He had never known Jane's disposition to tease and he would have never expected he
r to react with such… forwardness to a situation like this. In fact, he would have never dreamt to find himself thus. Remarkable!

  When his unexpected partner quit the room, Darcy was left in complete confusion and in a flutter of spirits. To think how he had always laughed at Jacob's stupidity when reading about his confusing the elder sister for the younger on the wedding night! Why! The story had certainly been proved very real in his case! He dared not think of the following morning at breakfast yet. Goodness, Bingley was in a terrible situation! His wife was obviously completely dissatisfied. Of course he would never say a word of it. He only hoped Jane would not seek his attentions any further. Otherwise he would be in a terrible predicament. He would never, ever willingly consent to such shameful behaviour. He could be thankful for her smooth reaction, though.

  Little by little his spirit returned and he began to ponder on Elizabeth's whereabouts. Perchance she had gone out on his quest just when he had gone inside. How was it possible that he had missed finding her on his way in? The only thing that was left for him to do, was to go out again and make sure she was not in the gazebo. So, out he went into the rain in haste, still hopeful of finding her.

  ~•~ Bliss ~•~

  Elizabeth entered the dressing room without making the lightest of sounds, or so she imagined. Creeping inside, she searched for what she thought was Richard's coat and quickly slipped the letter into the inside pocket. To her dismay, in all her befuddlement she had forgotten to take a light with her. The room was almost in darkness, and Elizabeth felt her way against the wall until she bumped into what she discerned was a desk or a similar piece of furniture. With her hands stretched out, she endeavoured to find a candle or a lamp.

  A distinctive growl startled her. She could not see, but, what she surmised must have been a huge dog was menacing to attack her.

  Oh my God! What is a dog doing in a gentleman's bedroom?

  When her hands felt what she imagined was a book, she threw it to the other corner of the room in an endeavour to distract the guard dog, but to no avail. The dog got increasingly annoyed, and Elizabeth decided she had better remained still until Richard rescued her.