by Sophia Grace
Elizabeth gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
“Thankfully, I showed two days before the intended elopement and was able to put a stop to it at once. You can, of course, think of how I acted. Wickham left the place at once, and without his real goal, my sister’s fortune of ten thousand pounds.”
“And it was absolutely certain?”
“My sister confessed the whole thing to me at once.”
Elizabeth could scarce believe it. But even a man such as she believed Mr. Darcy to be would never involve his own sister in a scandal that would ruin her sister’s reputation if it were made public. He was surely too proud for that though the rest of his character may be more agreeable than she was led to believe. “I am sorry for your sister, Mr. Darcy. Is she quite recovered?”
Mr. Darcy appraised her. His features softened even further, and he swallowed before answering. “I believe so, yes. A broken heart, and a lesson in trust learned too early. She was but fifteen at the time.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and thought of the same thing happening to Lydia. Her poor sister. Poor Georgiana! … And poor Mr. Darcy. Wasn’t he also to be pitied in all this? A friend of his family … to act toward them in such a way. Then, to pass on scandalous accounts of Darcy to other such as herself. A wave of guilt hit her in the stomach. She had believed every word he said. Had even detested the sight of Mr. Darcy because of him. Had even sought his attentions due to his hardships. Her stomach rolled and if she were by herself, she may have even gotten sick at her own conduct in all this.
Darcy placed a hand on her shoulder. “I see the struggle on your face, Miss Elizabeth. That you have now heard the truth is apology enough for me.”
Chapter 2
“I don’t suppose anyone will come look for you?” Elizabeth asked Darcy.
They had now been in the small room above an hour. It could be very late indeed until Mary, or anyone else, found them. Mary could cover up Elizabeth’s absence, but perhaps, she thought, someone might miss Mr. Darcy. Miss Bingley even?
“I am afraid not,” he said, a sheepish smile curving his lips. “I may have been a little vehement in my distaste for balls over the past couple of days. I may have even declared that I would not dance or socialize at all.”
Elizabeth could believe it. She laughed heartily. They had been talking the whole time, and she found she liked this Mr. Darcy. He was vulnerable, no blockade of displeasure restricting their conversations. They had spoken of their childhoods, Mr. Bingley, Georgiana, and indeed even why Elizabeth did not want for Mr. Collins’s attentions.
As the night lengthened, the room grew darker. They huddled around the one candle in the room, Elizabeth still perched on the sill and Darcy sitting on the floor.
“Your dislike for Hertfodshire is growing then? You danced a few dances at the first ball here, but now you declared that you would not dance any. We are not all bad, are we?”
“Certainly not,” he said, smirking up at her. “The only woman I wished to dance with, I am afraid will not have me. She already refused to dance with me once.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks colored. He was alluding to herself that much was certain. “You may not be aware that I overhead this, but I heard the refusal of suggesting that you dance with me at the assembly rooms, Mr. Darcy.”
His eyes widened and his cheeks colored the same crimson as hers.
Elizabeth deepened her voice and with a smile said, “She is not handsome enough to tempt me. I am not in humor to give consequence to young ladies who were slighted by other men.”
Darcy’s jaw slackened. Instead of laughing with Elizabeth, his eyes hardened and he looked to the floor. “I am very sorry. It was wrong of me to say. It is not a good enough excuse, but balls bring out the worst in me. I find I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers.”
“With your upbringing?”
“As you see,” he said.
“I suppose we are even then,” she teased. “You have refused me once, and I have refused you once.”
“Then, when we are freed from here,” he said, looking into her eyes. “May I ask for the next two dances? I have had the pleasure of seeing you dance, but not of dancing with you.”
“I would be happy to,” Elizabeth said. “Only if you agree to never talk about us refusing each other again.”
He nodded his assent. “I will have something far more pleasant to occupy my mind.”
They stared at each other for far too long until Elizabeth broke the connection. Her emotions had been as high as mountains and as low as valleys this evening. She had gone from detesting the very sight of Mr. Darcy to hoping that he would praise her once again so that she could truly appreciate it this time. She had once heard someone say that love was the same. Highs and lows at every turn, but she had never felt that before. “I am glad Mr. Wickham did not come this evening and that my sister was mad enough to lock me in this room,” she ventured.
Mr. Darcy’s eyebrows rose as he stared at her. “How so?”
“I feel as if I have made a friend, and I am glad to know the true character of such a horrific gentleman.”
“I am sorry if knowing his true worth inflicted any pain on you, Miss Bennet. I saw the effects of a broken heart on my sister and I would not wish that on anyone.”
It was true that she had liked Mr. Wickham very much, but she could not find pain anywhere. Relief on her part was all she felt. Her heart was not as touched by him as she had originally supposed. “I have no injury, Mr. Darcy. I am ashamed at believing him and finding his company agreeable, but that is all.”
A palpable relief washed over Mr. Darcy’s features. His eyes brightened as if he were a determined student on the first day back to school where knowledge solved everything. It opened the universe at large to him and Elizabeth found that his reaction to this pleased her. So different from just a few hours ago.
“Since we are friends,” she ventured, “…may I ask you a question about Miss Bingley?”
“Certainly. I will answer as well as I can.”
She mulled over the question in her head. It wasn’t really about Miss Bingley. Well, it was a little, she supposed. She had often wondered at his feelings for her. Hers were quite obvious, but since he did not seem to return them, she wondered at him staying with Mr. Bingley. “Well, if I am to be honest, it is about you as well. I have noticed that Miss Bingley seems to enjoy your company…”
Mr. Darcy breathed in deep and looked away. It may have frightened her off the topic before, but not now. She had already started it, anyway. She may as well finish the thought.
“…and it does not seem as if you—”
“Return those feelings? No, I do not, Miss Bennet. Miss Bingley is merely the sister of my very good friend. If you must know, I find her vexing at times, mostly her pride, but only because it is a reflection of my own if I am being completely truthful. We can see and dislike in others, what we may not be able to see in ourselves before it is too late.”
Elizabeth leaned back against the window, the glass cooling her skin right through the muslin dress she wore. She was glad she was not the only one who found Miss Bingley’s haughtiness annoying. She studied Darcy’s face, but kept her thoughts to herself.
“I have somehow made you think ill of me. There’s a crease—just there—on your forehead.” Darcy moved to his knees and pointed to the lines on her face.
Elizabeth rubbed at her forehead. “No, you have said nothing of the sort. I am nearly only trying to make you out.”
Darcy looked wistfully toward the door. “I should like to dance with you before the night is through.”
“You are not enjoying talking with me?”
“Of course, I am. But I am a selfish man and would like both.”
“Perhaps when we are freed from here, you will want nothing to do with me. Miss Bingley will tease you—”
“I do not care if she does. My opinion of your character was already fixed and nothing will persuade me otherwise. Ou
r talk has only increased you in my estimation. You were the one who needed convincing of me.”
“Maybe we should agree not to discuss that as well.”
Darcy smiled. “There is becoming more and more than we cannot speak of then what we can. Before that happens…” He stood and straightened his clothes. After brushing of his backside, he held his hand out. “Miss Elizabeth, may I have this dance?”
“But we can barely hear the music?”
He leveled his gaze upon her and Elizabeth stood. He pulled her hand and walked her to the center of the room. The shadows were deeper here, like a pit of unknowns. He bowed, and she curtsied. Taking a cue from the music, they danced. With locked gazes, their feet moved effortlessly over the floor. It reminded Elizabeth of learning how to dance when there were very few people, only her and Jane. At some points during the dance, she turned with imaginary partners, walked around a pretend figure, and smiled at no one in particular. But when it was Darcy’s turn to take her hand, he did it with such care and feeling.
“I am surprised that you do not dance in public often, Mr. Darcy. It is a shame for you are quite good at it.”
He smiled despite himself. “That may be the first word of praise I have heard from you.”
“That cannot be true.”
Of course, it was though. She had estimated Mr. Darcy all wrong. He was not disagreeable at all. Perhaps a little misunderstood if one knew the reasoning behind his behavior, though, nothing could be found wanting in his address. He was just and fair, and even when she did not like him, she knew his mind was an educated one. His manners, especially this evening, were beyond measure. She appreciated that they could laugh and tease each other.
“If I did not say it before, Miss Bennet, you look very pretty this evening.”
Elizabeth blushed under his gaze, but a warm, welcoming feeling tugged in her stomach. “Thank you, Sir.”
They continued to dance, turning their small getaway into a most private ball between two people in which fondness was growing between them. Elizabeth could not stop staring at the way Darcy looked in this low light, his collar pulled up. She had never seen a man more handsome than him. Darcy, too, was not embarrassed of his constant gazing at her. They were so lost in each other’s eyes, that when they ceased to move, neither noticed. Their hands still clasped in front of them from the dance, locked in an embrace of propriety, Mr. Darcy stepped closer, and closer still. It was a movement, though small in distance, but that broke every rule and every right and wrong they had been taught since they were children.
Their lips touched.
Elizabeth’s eyes suddenly widened. She was kissing Mr. Darcy. Though there was a part of her that knew this was wrong, nothing in her, body or soul, felt it was wrong. Deep down, all the little puzzle pieces and misguided thoughts locked securely into place. It was Mr. Darcy all along.
His lips passed firmly over hers until he pulled away. Shocked, his jaw slackened until in a breath of air, he said, “I am so sorry, Miss Bennet. I do not know what came over me. You must forgive me.”
She held her hands out and clasped him by the arms. He was still close enough to touch, close enough to smell, close enough to want… “Please do not say sorry. I do not think I could bear hear you saying that again.”
He searched her trusting eyes, then his gaze moved toward her plump, swollen lips. Elizabeth’s shaking fingers fastened around Mr. Darcy’s neck and got lost in his curly hair. She stepped forward and slowly brought her lips to his. Slow and languid she moved, testing the kiss, the anatomy, the pleasure.
Darcy growled deep in his throat and pulled her body to his. They matched up perfectly in every single way. “You do not know how much I have wanted this, Elizabeth.” He pushed her toward the wall and held her in place as he ravished her with kisses until she lost her own mind. He pulled away, his chest heaving. “Since I first met you, I have been forming the deepest, most passionate attachment. I have never met another woman like you Miss Elizabeth Bennet and I am determined to have you.”
He could not ignore the flush of her cheeks, her chest heaving in front of him in full voluptuousness, and the curiosity in her eyes. He kissed a trail down her neck over her chest until he skirted her low neckline. Elizabeth froze. Her breath warred inside her. He reached down and touched her leg, his fingers sliding up her thigh, bringing her dress with him until he grasped her hip. He thrust his hips forward until Elizabeth’s knees gave way to feeling.
Darcy held her in place. He caught her gaze with his own and argued with himself in his own head until Elizabeth whispered, “Do not stop.”
That was all the encouragement he needed. He removed Elizabeth’s undergarments and found the soft flesh between her thighs. His fingers played with her until she was breathless and whimpering his name. He had already risen to the occasion. Throughout most of their evening, he was at least semi-hard. He grasped her backside and lifted her into the air. “Lock your legs around me,” he instructed. She did as she was told.
Mr. Darcy rocked into her and Elizabeth melded into him. She captured his mouth with hers and encouraged him. His strokes became more forceful. At one point, Elizabeth stilled, bit her lip, but Darcy continued his work. Within a few strokes, Elizabeth relaxed in his arms again. Pretty sighs and arousing moans escaping her beautiful throat.
Inside her, her stomach was pulling tighter and tighter as a hot need built between her legs. Mr. Darcy’s hard cock worked her like a skilled player. She met his stroke with her own, increasing her pleasure and intensifying his, which she could only guess by the repeated rapidity of his movements. Darcy’s frantic thrusts took over and Elizabeth’s cries were too much to handle kissing at the same time. She braced herself in his arms as the pleasure of his movements sliding through her took over every other rational thought. It was like a flower budding in the first of Spring. Slow at first, and then a petal freed itself. Elizabeth spiraled into a cacophony of immense sensations—pleasure, need, love, lust. All swirled inside her until she was at the highest peak and stepped over. She cried out, her muscles spasming around Darcy as she fell through the pleasure.
Darcy himself quickened his pace until he shouted her name. They both enjoyed the sudden rapture at the same time. She clung to him and he held on to what was his as he vowed to do for the rest of his life. Elizabeth was his now. He could make her happy and he knew full well that she was the only woman in the world who could make him so.
He swallowed the dry thickness in his throat and pulled his face away from hers so that he could see her beautiful brown eyes again. She looked down, but he tipped her chin up and played his thumb over her cheek. “I will not be a happy man unless you marry me, Elizabeth. Please consent to be my wife. I have long wished for it, but did not know how I could win your affections.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “It seems you have done so.”
Darcy smiled. She was always teasing. He set her on her feet and arranged her skirts around her once more. Once he made himself presentable, he lowered to one knee and grasped her hand. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, will you marry me?”
Elizabeth’s eyelids lowered, and a smiled played over her face. “I will.”
He rose to his feet and embraced her. “I love you,” he said into her neck as he placed kisses up and down its length.
She laughed. “Who would have thought what that being locked in a room with you would have turned out so well?”
“If I had known, I would have done it sooner.”
“I shall have to thank my sister, Mary.”
“Me too.”
They gazed at each other, a smile forever on their faces.
THE END
A Journey Unto Love
A Pride & Prejudice Sensual Retelling
Chapter 1
It is a truth universally acknowledged that when two sisters like the same gentleman, that gentleman should be disregarded by both. Family bonds are much more important than the attentions of the opposite sex. However, Miss Lydia Benn
et, who could never be thought rational by anyone, did just the opposite.
As soon as Mr. Wickham joined the Hertfordshire militia, it was evident Elizabeth Bennet was pleased with him, and he liked her as well. Miss Lydia watched all this from the outskirts. She observed their smiling faces with pangs of jealousy. Her stare lingered at their tete-a-tetes, causing red hot anger to course through her veins. How could Mr. Wickham prefer her sister Elizabeth’s company when she was also in the same room? She could not understand that just as well as she could not understand why men and women were not allowed to be alone together. It was preposterous.
Once Jane Bennet was fully recovered from the cold she caught during a horseback ride to Netherfield for dinner, and Mr. Wickham was well-settled with the Hertfordshire militia, grand schemes started to take place in Longbourn. Kitty and Lydia tried to figure out a way to spend more time with the officers while Jane and Elizabeth longed for the promised ball at Netherfield that would once again bring them together with those they fancied.
One could not remember who mentioned it first, whether it be the younger sisters or the older sisters, but once the idea of traveling to Hertford Castle was brought up, each of them exclaimed it to be the finest idea they had ever heard. The Bennet daughters had never seen the place though they lived within a day’s travel of it. It was spoken of so much that they did not know why none of them had ever thought of it before.
All that was left to do was to prevail upon those of the intended parties. Lydia brought it up with Mrs. Forrester, who quite liked the idea, and Jane wrote to Netherfield to invite Miss Bingley and the rest of the house.
A day was settled upon for the journey and though Miss Bingley, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Darcy agreed to the scheme, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst decided they had better stay at home. Of the regiment, Mr. and Mrs. Forrester were to come, as well as Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham. Four of the Bennet sisters were to make the trip, with Mary staying at home for traveling did not please her as it did the rest of her sisters.