Mr. Darcy's Indiscretions

by Valerie Lennox

  Dinner had been an exercise in torture. She was nervous, and he could tell. She kept alternating between being frightfully quiet and then babbling about nothing. She had gone on a ten-minute tirade about the weather in London, pronouncing it insupportable.

  She’d barely eaten.

  He hadn’t either.

  He wasn’t sure, but he thought that perhaps things should go a bit differently between them. This was all putting him in mind of the awkwardness of his wedding night, and he wanted something different with a mistress. Mistresses were supposed to allow men to give in to their desires, after all. It was not supposed to be the way it was with a wife, who was stiff and quiet and unmoving.

  But as he made his way closer to the bed, he saw Elizabeth, and she was lying flat on the bed, clutching the covers up to her chin. Her dark hair was splayed out on the pillow behind her. Her eyes were wide. She was utterly lovely. And utterly terrified.

  Dash it all.

  He wasn’t going to do this again. It was one thing with Anne. She had a duty, and so did he, and he felt that he could get through the act because he was required to do so. He didn’t think she’d gotten much out of it, but that was the way of things when people were married, at least that was what Darcy was given to understand. There was congress between a man and a wife—which was a formal sort of thing—and then there was congress with a mistress, which he was paying for, and he was not going to do all of that again.

  Because, truly, he had not enjoyed what amounted to… to forcing his wife. Not forcing. She was willing. She hadn’t attempted to stop him. But she only lay there, staring up at him with her frightened eyes, flinching occasionally, which compelled him to squeeze his eyes closed and think of other things. God help him. To think of Elizabeth Bennet.

  What was he supposed to think of if Elizabth was actually with him and she was gazing up at him in that same terrified way? There was no other fantasy he could turn to. He didn’t spend a lot of time engaging with fleshly thoughts, anyway, not since he was a youth. He had other things to worry about these days. He didn’t dally in adolescent fantasy.

  Elizabeth sat up in the bed. She was wearing a shift, nothing beneath it, at least as far as he could see. Her unbound hair was so beautiful it made his breath catch in his throat. “What?”

  He had stopped in the middle of the room, just frozen here, and she must wonder what was wrong. He squared his shoulders. “I’m not sure…” He didn’t know how to continue.

  “Aren’t you going to remove your clothing?” said Elizabeth.

  He let out a low chuckle. “Are you even aware of what…” He had no words for this. He made vague gestures with his hands. “What it is that is to happen,” he settled on.

  “Of course,” said Elizabeth. “I know of all of it.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I don’t understand why you’re simply standing there. Hadn’t we better get on with it?”

  Anne had known nothing of the enterprise, at least that was how it had seemed to him. They hadn’t really spoken. It had all been a wordless, awkward encounter. And they’d somehow managed to get away with only doing it once before Anne was increasing. He didn’t want to repeat all of that, and he didn’t want to continue thinking of his dead wife.

  “I…” He squared his shoulders. “That is, I am not exactly in the frame of mind for it right now.”

  “One needs to be in a certain frame of mind?” Elizabeth looked concerned. “I did not know of that.”

  “Perhaps not every man is like me,” said Darcy, coming to sit on the bed, bowing his head. “Perhaps the sight of you in that shift with your hair down would be enough for someone else… perhaps it should be enough.”

  “But it isn’t?” She looked down at herself. “Is there something wrong with me? Do I not please you?”

  “It is…” He cleared his throat. “Well, you don’t seem particularly eager at the prospect of it. I suppose that is what is making it difficult for me.”

  She considered this. “Well, I cannot lie. I am not. My sister fed me full of horror stories before I arrived. Pain and blood and how I should not kiss you on the mouth and—”

  “What?” He was insistent. “You will kiss me if I wish you to kiss me. That is preposterous. I am not paying for all this to be denied kissing.” He gestured around the house.

  She gathered up the sheets and clutched them to her chest. “All right,” she said softly.

  “Pain?” he said. “So, it is to hurt you?”

  “My sister said so,” said Elizabeth.

  “Hang it all,” said Darcy, getting up from the bed. “I’m not doing this.”

  “What?” said Elizabeth, sounding somewhat panicked. “But you must. You have to.”

  “I do not have to do anything,” said Darcy. “I don’t find the prospect of causing you pain particularly erotic. Forgive me for that.” He was sarcastic.

  She climbed out of bed. “Mr. Darcy, please—”

  “If you’re worried about the money, I was going to help you anyway. I had already decided on it. I don’t know why I agreed to all of this. I was drunk when you came to my house that night, and I had quite lost my head. I can never have a mistress. It’s… it’s intolerable.”

  “You have a mistress,” said Elizabeth. “I am right here. And what you need to do is to remove your clothing so that we can do this thing now. I have been working myself up for this all day, and I will have it over with as soon as possible.”

  “No,” said Darcy.

  “I won’t take money from you that’s charity,” she said. “I have far too much pride—”

  “And that is your downfall, madam.”

  “Oh, it’s mine, is it?” She shot him a pointed look.

  “I think this Chivsworth must be a villain,” Darcy muttered to himself. “Because to want to bed a virgin, it seems… despicable.”

  “Why? Have you bedded many virgins?” Elizabeth said, and the fear had surfaced in her voice, causing it warble.

  “Just my wife.”

  She sucked an audible breath and she sat back down on the bed. “Oh,” she said in a different voice.

  He probably should not have mentioned that he had been married, should he have? It was not the sort of thing that women liked to know about, other women. But she had asked, damn it.

  “And what was it like?” Elizabeth whispered.

  “Horrible,” he said. “I won’t do it again.”

  “Well…” Elizabeth’s voice sounded a bit stronger. “Perhaps if you just endeavored to be gentle, it wouldn’t be so bad. Do you think you could do that?”

  “No, this is not going to happen between us, Miss Bennet. It cannot. I am incapable of it.”

  “How could you be incapable?” She got back up and came to him. She took him by the shoulders.

  He tensed at her touch.

  She looked into his eyes. “You are not wounded or disfigured or something?”

  “I am not aroused,” he said.

  She looked at him blankly.

  “I thought you said that you knew how this was to work,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “So? Explain it to me.” Now, he was being horrible to her, but he didn’t care.

  She blushed, and it made her even prettier. “You… the, er, man puts his member betwixt the woman’s thighs, all the way inside… her.”

  “Yes, well, you’re missing a key step there,” he said.

  “I am?”

  “The man’s member needs to be…” He foundered. “Stiff.”

  Her eyes widened. “All right, yes. I think I have just now belatedly gotten the joke in a number of plays.” She cleared her throat. “Yours isn’t?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? Can we make it that way?”

  He almost wanted to laugh. He almost wanted to kiss her. Seize her and pull her against him and run his hands through her hair, and then maybe he would be aroused, maybe…

  But no. He wanted no part of another encounter with a fr
ightened woman. He felt guilty about having put her in this position at all. The fact that things were not going smoothly between them, it was a sign that it was never meant to be in the first place.

  So, he turned on his heel and quit the room without answering her.

  * * *

  Elizabeth waited a long time in the room, expecting him to return. When he didn’t, she dressed without the help of her maid, so a bit sloppily, and then went to search for him.

  She found him the room she had prepared especially for him, in case he should want some time to himself when they were together. It had a desk for letter writing, and some books and a few chairs near the fireplace. She really had quite enjoyed outfitting the place for the two of them. It was as though she had been pretending that they were to have some kind of relationship, she supposed, as though he was to be her husband, even though she knew it would not be that way at all.

  He was sitting by the fire with a glass of whiskey in his hand.

  She crossed the room to sit down next to him. “Mr. Darcy.” She reached over, boldly, and put her hand on his thigh. “I am sorry. This is my fault. Lydia had explained to me that men enjoy the act more if they are with a woman who is enjoying herself. I am sorry if I did not seem eager, but I quite am. I want this.” She wasn’t lying either. Some part of her did want it. She was frightened, but she was also excited, and she was rather disappointed not have seen his bare shoulders. She wondered if they were the way that she had imagined them.

  He looked up at her. “Don’t be ridiculous, Miss Bennet.”

  “Am I being ridiculous?”

  “There is no fault to assign.” He gently plucked her hand off of his thigh and placed it in her own lap.

  For some reason, this hurt her. She wasn’t sure why, but she straightened her spine and drew in a breath.

  “I never wanted this,” he said. “Not truly. You are not the sort of woman who is to be entered into an arrangement such as this with. I could not live with myself if I treated you with such a lack of respect.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “Well, then, I suppose you are breaking things between us.”

  “I want to help—”

  “I shall simply have to go to Mr. Chivsworth,” she said, even though she was unsure she would have the strength to do such a thing.

  He got up out of his chair, sloshing his drink all over the carpet. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  She gazed up at him. “You have no hold on me. You cannot tell me—”

  “I will settle your mother’s debts. And I will continue to pay for this house, but you must move your sisters in and—”

  “No,” she said.

  “How can your pride allow you to… to spread your legs for a man but not to accept my help?” His face was red, and he was sputtering.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But I can’t take money for nothing, Mr. Darcy. It doesn’t seem right.”

  “You will not go to Mr. Chivsworth,” he said. “I will not have another man’s hands on you.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “You seem rather possessive of someone that you claim you never wanted.”

  “What?” He looked her over. “I never said I didn’t want you.”

  “You did. Just moments ago. You said you never wanted this, and that I was not the sort of woman—”

  “I never wanted to make a whore of you!” he snapped.

  She recoiled from him.

  He winced. He turned away. “I’m apologize, Miss Bennet. That is not what you are, and I am sorry that I… Hang everything.” He downed the rest of his drink, set the glass on the mantle and started across the room.

  “You can’t walk out on me again!” she cried.

  He stopped. He turned to look at her. “I do want you. Of course I want you. Would I have agreed to all of this if I didn’t?”

  “Then…” She swallowed. “Take me, Mr. Darcy.”

  “I cannot,” he said. “Not like this. Not…” He sank both of his hands into his hair. It was quiet. Then he dropped his hands and looked at her. “All right, listen. The arrangement stands. You remain here. You are mine. You don’t go anywhere near Chivsworth. And maybe… maybe with time…” He cleared his throat. “In the meantime, you will accompany me to balls to dance with me so that I don’t have to dance with strangers.”

  “Balls?” She knew that she might be called upon to do so, but it seemed he had brought it up out of nowhere.

  “If you are worried about being recognized, we can stick to masquerades, at least to begin with. Georgiana finds it easier to dance when she has the barrier of a mask, so that is all well and good.”

  “I don’t see why you would need me as a dance partner. Certainly, there are many women who—”

  “I don’t like dancing with people I don’t know. I thought I had told you this before.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “I remember now. We spoke of it at Rosings once, did we not?”

  He inclined his head.

  That all seemed like another life. And the thought of Rosings brought back bad memories for her. She shook that all away. “Well, if you are always dancing with me, people will notice. They’ll think—”

  “I don’t give a damn what they think,” he said. “I am going to balls only to try to find my sister a husband. You assist me in that manner, and you will be providing me a service, for which I shall pay you handsomely. And all is settled between us, then.”

  She considered. “Well, I suppose that is true.”

  “Good.” He turned and started again for the door.

  “Mr. Darcy?”

  He stopped and turned again. “What?” He sounded a bit exasperated.

  “You’re leaving then?” She wished she didn’t sound so disappointed.

  “Yes. Good night, Miss Bennet.”

  “Good night, Mr. Darcy.”

  And he was gone.

  Later, she climbed back into her cold, lonely bed. She wasn’t much accustomed to sleeping alone. She wondered why she felt so acutely unfinished as she tossed and turned herself to sleep.

  * * *

  “It was wretched,” said Elizabeth. “I couldn’t believe he refused me.”

  “I admit,” Lydia said, surveying the dresses that they had draped out over the bed in her room, “it is most odd. I’ve never heard of a gentleman behaving in such a way.”

  Elizabeth ran her fingers over a red dress. “This one, perhaps?”

  “Yes, you should try it on,” said Lydia. “It is a Cleopatra costume. There is a wig that goes with it somewhere. I never wore it. No one will associate it with me.” It was a tricky thing, borrowing costumes from her sister, considering that Lydia was so notorious. Her costumes were the stuff of gossip. Sometimes they were even written about in the papers.

  Elizabeth would have had new ones commissioned, but she knew that Lydia had some costumes that had never been worn, and she wanted the excuse to talk to her sister, besides. She had to admit that Lydia knew better about these sorts of things.

  Elizabeth picked up the dress. “I shall try it on. Yes.” She called for her maid, Meggy, who had accompanied her here to Lydia’s house. Meggy was a bit scandalized by it all, as if she hadn’t realized that she was employed by a woman of questionable reputation to begin with. As Meggy helped Elizabeth out of her dress, Elizabeth sighed. “Well, what did I do wrong? I know that I shouldn’t have admitted that I wasn’t eager for it. You told me as much. Did I do anything else to ruin it?”

  “That’s the thing,” said Lydia, sitting down on a couch and throwing back her head. “It sounds to me as if you are eager for it. It’s as I said before. You’re in love with him.”

  “Oh, stop it,” said Elizabeth.

  “What’s more, I think he’s in love with you,” said Lydia.

  “What?” Elizabeth turned to her sharply, causing Meggy to yell at her to hold still. Elizabeth apologized and allowed the maid to help her into the red dress. “He’s not in love with me. He refused me. He finds some fault i
n me, undoubtedly. I don’t know what it is, but something.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Lydia. “I think he cares about your comfort. That’s what you said. He didn’t want to hurt you. It’s rather nice, actually.” She sighed. “Your Mr. Darcy is a bit gallant, isn’t he? He’d be one of those chivalrous knights in the stories.”

  “How does his refusing me make him gallant?” Elizabeth snorted. Meggy worked at the buttons on the dress.

  “Well, if you can’t see it, I don’t know if I can explain it to you,” said Lydia. “Anyway, you mustn’t worry about it. He’ll get over it, I think. He’ll be overcome, and he won’t be able to resist you, and… oh, I think it might work out very nicely for you, Lizzy. I imagine he might take care of you for the rest of your life. And if you have children, he might even provide for them, and—”

  “No!” said Elizabeth, horrified. “I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t have bastard children. To bring children into the world with no father, no future? That would be horrid.”

  “That’s what I am saying. He would likely claim them and take care of them.”

  Elizabeth furrowed her brow, quiet as Meggy worked at the dress. She didn’t like the picture that Lydia was creating. Part of her did. She couldn’t deny that she was saddened at the thought she would never have children. And she thought Mr. Darcy would make a good father. Having children with him was not a repugnant thought, not in the least. But to have them as his mistress, it wasn’t the same. Besides which, Mr. Darcy would eventually have to get married again, and then… Elizabeth felt as if she couldn’t breathe. “This dress is far too tight!” she gasped.

  “No, I think it fits you nicely,” countered Meggy. “Very flattering if I do say so myself.”

  Elizabeth looked in the mirror at herself. The dress was actually rather flattering. It was a bit lower at the bodice than she was used to, and her bosom was on display, but it wasn’t any more revealing than dresses that other women of good breeding wore. She didn’t look like a courtesan, not entirely. She turned this way and that. All right, well, she supposed she did look like a courtesan, a bit, anyway. The thing was, she rather liked the way she looked. She smiled at her reflection.

  “That looks lovely on you,” said Lydia, who was up and behind her, peering over her shoulder. “I think you must wear that one.”