Charlotte, Sir Richard... And Mr Darcy

by C P Waterman

  “How much longer will you be staying with the Darcys?” she asked.

  “Only a few more days. I had suggested to Lady Catherine that I could escort her back to Rosings, but she made it plain that I was under no obligation to do so. I fear that Lady Catherine is worried that I might infect her daughter and with my unhealthy interest in liberal politics, although she would be present at all times to supervise any conversation we would have had on the journey. My house is on the other side of Canterbury, so you and I live in the same part of the world and it would make sense for us to travel back together when we are finished here.”

  “I plan to remain for another three or four days,” Charlotte said. “If ever you wish to have your portrait sketched again, you know where to find me.”

  They continued walking in silence until they came to the wooded area where she had hidden to watch him make love with Darcy. Still saying nothing, he guided her to a wide gap in the woodland that she hadn’t noticed before; when she had passed this way earlier, she had been attracted by the lake and the features across it and had completely missed the spectacle before them now.

  There was a gentle hill running up from the lake; atop this hill was the most glorious circular temple, domed with classical pillars running round its exterior. When they stopped to admire it, she gasped. “I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as that.”

  “It is lovely, isn’t it?” he agreed. “The story is that Darcy’s grandfather - was a guest at Stourhead, in Wiltshire, and walked round the garden with his host. He admired the temples of Apollo and Hercules, and the Pantheon, and knew that he had to have some kind of classical structure built here. I think the clearing down to the lake makes a splendid avenue.”

  “I can’t believe that I didn’t see it when I passed this way this morning. I spent too much time looking in the other direction, across the lake, to select a view to sketch.”

  “Shall we go up the avenue and look at it?”

  “Can we? Is it open? Is there anything inside?”

  He laughed. “Come on.”

  Hand-in-hand, they walked up the slope towards the imposing building. She felt as if they were pilgrims, come to visit a sanctuary in the middle of an Arcadian heaven. When they had reached the summit, standing on the steps, they looked down at the lake and - in the distance, to one side - the grand facade that was Pemberley.

  “I love this place,” he said. “It's so quiet here, it’s the ideal place in the world to make love, don't you think?”

  She made no reply, but sat down on the step with him. She looked down at his crotch, and noticed his erection, surging into a full growth once more; she had an urgent desire to caress it, but she must not appear too forward.

  He saw that her eyes were locked on his manhood, and he stood up abruptly. “Let’s go inside.” He turned to the door, and pushed it open.

  Without a word, she followed him; the interior was a hollow shell, with stone seating running round the circumference. Their footsteps echoed as they walked the first tentative steps as they absorbed the ambience. They sat down, and he put his hand up her skirt; slowly, his palm traced her leg, passing her knee, and continued as far as her thigh. He looked at her and smiled. “Shall we?” he whispered.

  She nodded. It would be impossible for her to refuse this man; he had introduced her to such frenzied rapture since they had met, and she felt no desire to stop him from doing anything to her body that he might wish in this hallowed place.

  With his free hand, he unbuttoned the drop front of his breeches, and her eyes focused on his cock once again. Since his fingertips were close to her private parts now, she felt no reason why she might not curl her fingers round his shaft; it was hard and warm to her touch. Although she enjoyed his touch on her genitals, she badly wanted to give him fellatio. In her limited experience of lovemaking, this was a whole new adventure for her.

  Quickly pulling herself away, she knelt on the floor in front of him, pushed his knees apart and reached forward to slip his hard penis in her mouth. Soon, the shaft grew so big that it almost began to choke her, and she withdrew her head from his lap so that she could get some air. Her fingers came to rest on his balls, and she felt stimulated when she touched them.

  “Please keep your hand there,” he said. “Stroke them gently with your fingertips. It's the most wonderful sensation I know.”

  She did as he asked and watched the glistening dawn of an impatient desire welling up at the tip of his penis. Mirroring the stimulation he was feeling, she sensed a growing wetness at the entrance to her vagina; with her free hand she felt herself and found her fingers were slipping around her crotch.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “Let's do it now.”

  Still kneeling on the stone floor, she turned round to face the wall and rested her elbows on the seat in front before pulling up her gown to the waist.

  “Can you come in the back? Do you mind?”

  He shrugged and smiled. “Very well, then.” He got down on his knees behind her, and slid his erection between the globes of her butt towards her waiting open slit.

  As she felt his approach, a delicious idea sprang into her mind. “No,” she whispered. “Can we try something different? There's something I want you to do to me. Can you push yourself into my anus? It's something that I've wanted to experience.”

  He pushed hard into her rectum. He was already moist from her juices at her crotch, and had little difficulty in making the journey up inside her.

  She was surprised at the sudden pain and intense pleasure this sensation produced. She realised her rectum was narrower than her vagina, but had not considered how tight it would fit once it was locked inside.

  His hands were busy; his left hand cupped her breast and caressed her nipple. His right hand was round her waist and ventured down to massage her little bud, the fount of all lust.

  His pelvis crashed repeatedly against her butt, with a wildness she had not encountered on the previous occasions when they had made love. And his orgasm arrived much sooner than before. He did not withdraw immediately, but continued masturbating her and massaging her nipple; she felt him bite her neck lightly, and these exquisite touches brought her to the pinnacle of abandonment. Her eyes were squeezed tight to savour every second of her orgasm; colours danced round in her mind to fill the blackness of her vision.

  She felt his semen running down her thighs as soon as he pulled out from her; she allowed her skirt to fall, and clutched her crotch to pad it dry. Their passion spent, they sat on the seating round the chamber to draw breath and reflect upon the intense gratification that they both now felt.

  Taking her time, her eyes moved round this extraordinary temple. She was absorbed by the sun’s rays shining down through the high windows; above them was a frieze that ran round the structure that portrayed strange mythological beasts and, above it all, the great concave circular vaulting.

  “I want to capture this place,” she said, looking round. “I want to make a record of our coming here today. I want to get it down on paper. All of it.”

  “You want to draw a picture of us… copulating… in here?”

  “No!” she laughed. “I want to draw the interior. Empty, without us. I can sketch the exterior another time.”

  She stood up, walked round the building to absorb its atmosphere, and sat down again; she was almost opposite him. Seeing him looking at her, she changed her mind and decided to include him in her picture. It would provide the viewer with a sense of scale. Anyone casting their eyes on this finished sketch would see him as a solitary, distant figure who could could have been anyone.

  Working quickly, Charlotte forbade him to move or to speak. She wanted to seize the enchantment of this barren shrine, and would allow nothing to disturb her.

  When at last it was finished, she stood up, smiled, and held it up for him to see. “You have everything there. But it would have been better served by a painting. Do you paint?”

 
“I do, but I didn’t bring my materials. And the whole process takes too long. A sketch can be finished in much less than an hour. Now, are you going to take me back to my accommodation?”

  They left the temple, walked down the grassy avenue to the path by the lake, and continued to the East Lodge at a leisurely pace as they progressed arm-in-arm.

  “Tell me about your estate in Kent. Is it anything like this?”

  He laughed. “I fear not. I have no wish to live in anything grand. I would be spending too much time worrying about its upkeep.”

  “Your aunt, Lady de Bourgh, seems to have no reservations about spending money to enhance her home. She is constantly telling my husband Collins about her extravagances.”

  “You shall come and see my modest residence one day. I am not sure how such a visit can be arranged without arousing Mr Collins’ suspicion. Perhaps I could offer you a commission to come and paint it one day.”

  “My husband would insist that I brought a servant with me. My housekeeper at the parsonage raised her eyebrows when I told her I was going to stay with an old friend as her guest, and would not need a maid. I was careful to avoid identifying the friend, for fear she would tell Collins… and Lady Catherine would hear of it. I had to use a little subterfuge; Eliza - Mrs Darcy - sent one of her maids down to the parsonage to collect me in her carriage, to make it appear respectable, and she brought me here. I would not wish my husband’s servants to think I was deceiving him.”

  “But you did not come here with the intention of deceiving your husband, Mrs Collins.”

  “Many of the servants were installed at the parsonage after being interviewed and recommended by Lady Catherine. I am convinced that a few of them are in communication with her, providing regular reports on my performance as a parson’s wife.”

  “That does not make life easy for you. Allow me to provide you with some consolation.” He leaned forward and placed his lips on hers; their tongues met and they became increasingly aroused. She felt his stiffening cock poking against her body.

  They broke free for a moment and then rested their foreheads together. Memories of the moments in the temple - less than an hour before - were still fresh in their minds, and their passions, now re-awoken, began racing too fast; they had to slow themselves down in order to savor every moment of their tender intimacy. They moved on, continuing their stroll along the lakeside path back to the East Lodge.

  “I believe you are enjoying your time here, with your sketching,” he said.

  “Yes, indeed I am. I am not blessed with many opportunities to get away from the parsonage. In fact, this is the first time I have been out of Kent since I settled at Hunsford, apart from a brief visit to my parents eight or nine months ago. It is lovely to see Eliza again, in her new home, although I would have liked to spend more time with her.”

  “And I can understand your wish to avoid Lady Catherine. Sadly, some of us have no excuse to get away from her. But you must come here again when your husband has another conference to attend, and when the noble lady has commitments elsewhere. I can visit Pemberley at any time - just say the word, and I’ll be here waiting for you.”

  “I’d like that, but I fear it may not be possible. I would not want to impose too much on my oldest friend; besides, as I have already mentioned, I would not wish to arouse the suspicions of my husband. And Pemberley is a fair distance from where I live.”

  “Then come to my estate and paint my house. I live closer to Hunsford; you are always most welcome to stay there if you wish. I would be delighted to… to entertain you.”

  “I am not sure what people would say. You live alone on your estate?”

  “Indeed. But my servants are discreet and my home is sheltered away from the nearby villages. My influence is such that I could suggest to my friend the Lord Bishop of Rochester that he might care to invite your husband to his residence for a few days. No doubt they would have much to discuss.”

  She giggled. “I think my husband would insist that I accompanied him to stay with the Bishop on such a prestigious occasion.”

  “You are a resourceful lady. I am sure you could think of an excuse not to go with him.”

  “Sir Richard, you are a very wicked man.” She laughed again. She rarely laughed, but this visit had introduced a fresh perspective on life… a perspective she did not want to abandon at the end of her stay here.

  By this time, they were approaching the Lodge. “This walk has made me thirsty,” he said.

  “Would you like to come in and have some tea?” she asked.

  “I would be delighted to avail myself of anything you might care to offer me.”

  She unlocked the door and they walked in. He slammed the door shut behind him, clasped her body close to him and kissed her full on the lips. She flung her arms round his shoulders, not wanting to let him go.

  He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, then laid her gently on the bed and climbed on top.

  An ominous thought hit her for a brief second as he began to settle over her, his knees on either side of his body. This is heavenly, she believed, but it could never last forever. In a few days’ time, she would be back at the parsonage with her husband in her loveless incarceration.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked. “You’re looking serious. Is anything wrong?”

  “Everything is wonderful, as long as we are here together. Let’s live this life while we have it.” She kissed him tenderly on the lips and waited while he rubbed his shaft against her bud, willing them both to grow. When he was erect, he plunged inside her and held her butt cheeks while he continued his piston movements in her vagina.

  She wanted to lock him inside her forever. Instinctively, she closed her thighs together so he could not escape; the walls of her orifice had narrowed and she felt every fibre of his penis as it pumped its way forward and back. I must remember this week for as long as I live, she told herself. When I return home, and Collins comes to me when we go to bed, I must imagine that I have Sir Richard beside me. It will lessen the ordeal.

  Once they had both reached their climaxes, they remained side by side on the bed in silence, not wishing the day to end.

  There was a knock at the door.

  Sir Richard and Charlotte looked at each other. “Stay here,” Charlotte whispered as she sprang to her feet. “Not a sound.” She was fully dressed; she brushed down her crumpled gown and combed her hair quickly, then went into the living room, carefully closing the bedroom door behind her. She moved quickly across to the front door, and opened it.

  It was Eliza. “I am so sorry to bother you,” she began, “but Lady Catherine has suddenly announced to us that she is departing tomorrow morning after breakfast. That means that you are most welcome to come and stay with us in the house. It will be so much better for both of us.”

  Charlotte’s face lit up. “Oh, that's wonderful!” she said. “I was remarking to Sir Richard that I had hoped to see more of you.”

  “We haven’t seen him since we returned from the picnic. Have you seen him?”

  “He kindly escorted me back here when we broke up. I expect he is on his way to you now.”

  “Yes, you're probably right.” Eliza remained standing on the threshold, waiting to be invited into the lodge. But Charlotte stood her ground, and there was a pause while the two smiled silently at each other; she looked past her hostess’s shoulder at the waiting coachman, and Elizabeth took the hint. “Well, Charlotte, I shall leave you in peace until tomorrow. I’ll send a servant round with a wagon to pick you up with your luggage. And a bedroom will be ready for you.”

  “Thank you so much, Eliza,” she said as her friend left to climb into her waiting carriage that would take her home.

  Charlotte shut the front door and quickly returned to the bedroom. Sir Richard was getting dressed. “Did you hear what Eliza said?” she asked, excited.

  “Something about Lady Catherine…”

  “She's going back to Rosings tomorrow morni
ng! And I've been invited to stay at Pemberley, in the house!”

  “So that gives me a reason to stay here another few days. I hope that you are lodged in a bedroom close to mine.”

  “I could never abuse the hospitality of a friend,” she said. “That would be truly evil in my eyes.”

  “I think she would understand, knowing your husband fairly well. And, if you would prefer, I am sure we can take a turn in the grounds together without arousing any suspicion.”

  Charlotte made not reply. She waved him off as he left on foot to return to his hosts at Pemberley.

  Today had been perfect, she thought. Could tomorrow be any better? She could hardly wait….

  Then she remembered her conversation with Eliza the previous day when she had been invited to afternoon tea at Pemberley. In spite of her humdrum life with Collins at the parsonage, she had said, she experienced occasional brief moments of joy. And now those moments had come thick and fast; she never wanted them to stop.

  But they would have to cease, she realised. With her move to the great house at Pemberley, she would lose the freedom she had enjoyed at the East Lodge. She would spend much more time in Eliza’s company and, consequently, she would never be alone again with Sir Richard. Perhaps it is for the best, she told herself. If, by some accident, they were discovered together in a compromising situation - particularly since he was also Darcy’s secret lover - that would have far-reaching implications for her relationship with Eliza; she had known the Bennet family for so many years, and would do nothing to imperil that friendship.

  If only things could have turned out differently, she mused.

  3.

  Intimate Sketches of Mr Darcy...

  and his Friend

  Charlotte Collins, formerly Charlotte Lucas, was staying as a guest on the Pemberley estate. Her friend Elizabeth (whom she called Eliza) and Mr Darcy were entertaining Lady Catherine de Bourgh; Charlotte wanted to avoid meeting her there because she was her husband's patroness and was in frequent communication with him; Charlotte did not want him to know that she had been invited there. For the first few days, she had stayed at the East Lodge, an old gamekeeper's house at the side of the lake. But now Lady de Bourgh had departed Pemberley to visit other friends in Derbyshire, allowing Charlotte to move into the big house for the remainder of her stay.