by Beth Massey
“Have you ever heard any gossip pertaining to your visits here?” Bingley shook his head, and Susan smiled at him. “That is the best thing about Mrs T’s; it is so exclusive that talk of this place is minimal. I believe gossip about us is non-existent among the ladies of the ton because their husband’s make certain they are able to enjoy themselves here without fear of disclosure.”
Susan captured Bingley’s eyes. “Just love your blue-eyed Jane, and try a little tenderness when you are unsure how to please her. Oh, and make sure both of you teach any male children you have to respect women.”
With a tilt of her head, she gave him a bashful smile. “Let us sleep in each other’s arms one last time.” She giggled at her next thought. “Maybe one day we will meet as common and indifferent acquaintances, and I will be allowed to see your beautiful statuesque angel.”
Isabel Thornfield and Fitzwilliam Darcy were in each other’s company fully clothed. The last time this had happened for any length of time was twelve years ago. As he looked around her very familiar room, he recalled the particulars of their ‘first time.’ He had been waiting outside Mrs Teasewell’s office, when he saw her. She knocked, and was bid enter the room where his father was negotiating with the owner of the house. George Darcy had brought Fitzwilliam with him to this place to be initiated and educated. It had been shortly after his sixteenth birthday. How nervous he had been. She had flashed him a smile on her way into the office. Her gown had been blue and her hair loose… it was dark and curly much like his. She had looked about his same age, and he noticed she was almost his height. Eyes that slanted gave her an exotic look. He had thought her very beautiful.
She had reminded him of Titian’s Venus of Urbino that he had seen at the Uffizi in Florence. That trip to Italy had been to console the two Darcy men after the death of Lady Anne. Richard Fitzwilliam had accompanied them. Both young men thought Titian’s Venus to be the loveliest depiction of woman they had ever seen. The fact that she was naked, lying down and seemed to be inviting a partner to join her was a most important reason for their evaluation. The painting had titillated their young sensibilities. Until Elizabeth, the remembrance of that image had inevitably sprung forward behind his closed eyes as he pleasured himself.
Upon concluding her conference in the office with his father and Mrs Teasedale, Isabel had offered him her hand and together they had climbed the stairs. Over the years, she had confided that she had felt his hand shaking and knew he was nervous; but on that day she did not want to say anything that would frighten. He smiled at his friend as he recollected learning about her. Bella, as he was told to call her, perfectly suited her and the painting she resembled. They were to spend a fortnight in each other’s company. She was, indeed, also sixteen, but had proudly proclaimed she was soon to turn seventeen. When asked where she was from originally, she had told him Somersetshire.
Once in her room, she informed him of the doctor’s visit required before they could proceed. Explaining in a matter-of-fact tone that he would be looking for sores on Darcy’s member, her eyes had darted to the fall of his trousers and she had smiled mischievously. Her suggestion they get to know each other before they began their physical explorations had been appreciated. Sweat had been accumulating in his scalp as it always did when he was nervous. As she sat before him now with a quizzical smile similar to that of twelve years ago, he remembered their conversation.
“How long have you been working here?”
“Squire Worthington from Allendale brought me about three months ago. I am not the most experienced of the girls, but Mrs Teasewell thought that since we are about the same age, I would be less intimidating for you. Your father stressed that he wanted you to learn how to please me.” The mischief in her eyes had deepened. “That is an unusual request.”
“Does this place have many young men who are brought by their fathers to be educated?”
“I believe so, but you are the first who has been entrusted to me.”
“My father wants me to be able to please my wife. It is a custom among Darcy men to marry for love.”
“How refreshing! I think very few husbands think of their wives’ pleasure, and their wives act accordingly. That is why so many men take mistresses, or visit places like this house. Why does your father come here if he loves your mother? I have seen him before.”
“My mother died three years ago, and I believe he misses something she used to provide. Do you mind if I ask how you came to be here? Your manners are very refined.”
She had chuckled. “I am a vicar’s daughter from Somerset. I was tricked by the local Squire to elope with him to Gretna Green. As it turned out, the marriage he arranged was a sham. We were together for several months without returning to Somersetshire, and not long after, I became with child. He quickly tired of me and disclosed the marriage was not real. He brought me to London and abandoned me here. Before you ask, you should know; my father was very severe. Had I gone home to ask for help; he would have turned me away.”
“What happened to the baby?”
“I lost it shortly after I was brought here.”
Darcy’s look of anger melting into compassion, and his next words endeared him to her for an eternity. “Your squire used the ruse Oliver Goldsmith described in The Vicar of Wakefield to obtain your virtue. Did the worthless rake also quote the bard when he brought you here by saying ‘Get thee to a nunnery?’ I ask because the bounder seems quite the literate man.”
Bella had smiled her appreciation for this young man’s commiseration at the unfairness of her life. “How unfortunate for me I had not read the novel. The truth is I am glad to be out of my father’s house. I had been taking care of my seven brothers and sisters since my mother’s death. I was ten when she died giving birth to one of my brothers. My father married again a few years later, but poor Lucinda fared even worse than my mother. She was with child within the first year, and dead with the birth of her third. My father never showed any affection for his children or his wives. My lot was the worst of all his apostles because I was the oldest. I carried out my duties, but I yearned for a life less full of obligations… one with a bit of frivolity. The squire’s attentions seemed to offer that relief. I thought his love for me was true; I was wrong.”
During the fortnight Darcy and Bella spent together, there developed between them a strong bond of friendship. They had similar personalities. Both had been raised to be mindful of their duties. Both believed that they would be happier if they added a bit of liveliness to their routine, but both found it difficult to do. Their hope was that they were destined to find someone who would help them with the task.
The first time he had spilled his seed prematurely. Bella had smiled at him and patiently explained it was against the house rules to do that inside her; and he must learn better control so he could withdraw in time… so as not to make her with child. Her lessons taught him to both give and receive. She observed what pleased him, and she had him notice the way her body reacted when she felt pleasure. During that initial time together, they tried many different positions, and places. They revelled in the effort and often laughed at their innovation. Laughter became a constant in their relationship. They found humour in the nature of her trade, the latest wild tale Richard Fitzwilliam had shared, and they taught each other bawdy songs.
They had been together many times over the years. He had spent another fortnight with her after his father died and had sought solace after the incident at Ramsgate before he travelled into Hertfordshire. Over the years they had sexual relations of many different kinds… passionate, urgent, relentless, celebratory, silly, sweet, tender and consoling.
His absence these past ten months had forewarned her of the end of their attachment. Knowing her friend Darcy was a most honourable man, meant he would no longer visit her once he found his soul mate. It was not the loss of physical interaction, but his friendship that she mourned.
“So tell me what she is like… no, let me guess. I believe I know y
ou well enough to deduce the kind of woman who would catch your eye and capture your heart. Give me a minute—let me think.” She scratched her head and paused a few seconds. The grin that threatened to take over her entire face drew his attention. “There is fire in her eyes. That is the first thing you saw. She is very intelligent, and I imagine a formidable chess opponent. She enjoys reading almost as much as you do, and your love is definitely witty. Oh yes, I believe she is small like my Susan. One of her best features is her bottom. What is your love’s name?”
Darcy’s jaw dropped in amazement as she described his Lizzy. “Her name is Elizabeth Bennet, but Belly, how did you know all those things about her?”
Bella smiled at her success. “Was I that accurate? I was only guessing. The only thing I knew for sure was that she would be intelligent and witty and love to read. The look in someone’s eyes always seems to be of importance to you upon meeting… so deducing she possessed fine, fiery eyes was not that difficult. I thought you would choose someone different physically from me; which is why I made her small and with a beautiful bottom. I am tall and my bosom is my greatest asset. You love my… what do you call it… oh yes my slightly protruding Venus belly, but you would only know whether she had that if you had seen her naked.”
“The same would be true of her bottom. However, I have seen her naked and you are right—her belly is flat, not with a bit of flesh like yours. Her bosom is small and pert, but oh, her posterior is luscious.”
Belly had not expected that admission from Darcy. He always seemed so respectful of propriety’s restrictions… except of course when it came to Mrs Teasewell’s. She believed that since he had come here at his father’s suggestion, he felt comfortable breaking that particular societal prohibition. She gave him a smirk. “You have made love to her?”
Darcy got a look of smug satisfaction on his face. “I have.”
“Did she seem to enjoy your ministrations?”
His smile broadened. “Yes teacher, she did, and what is even more amazing… I awoke after our first time to her making an attempt to please me with caresses, kisses and licks. She climbed atop me as bold as could be. Her attempt was a bit fumbling, but her desire was just as it should be. I anticipate she will develop into an amazing lover. She thinks I learned how to make love at Cambridge and is jealous of my expertise.”
The two, as they had many times over the years, broke into laughter. Bella’s face became serious once again as she said, “You are a very lucky man to have found a love so free of the corrupting influence of our society’s hypocrisy.” Her remark wiped the remnants of laughter from Fitzwilliam’s face. “Darcy, what is wrong? From the moment you arrived, you have seemed worried about something.”
“Her sister, Lydia, has run away with Wickham. I told you about him; and what he tried to do with Georgiana. Elizabeth has now convinced herself that she and her sister are wanton harlots. Please, I mean no offence, Belly. What I am concerned about is that she is not as free from society’s hypocrisy as I originally thought. Her fear is that I will one day abandon her, because I realize how unworthy she is of my love. In other words… she does not trust me or the constancy of my devotion.”
Pausing for a few minutes, he contemplated his challenge. He decided to tell Bella the action plans. “Tomorrow, I meet with her father and uncle to aid in their search. Mr Bennet must allow me to pay to induce Wickham to marry Lydia. Their family does not have funds for such bribery. I pity her sister to have to wed the scoundrel, but I see no other way to save the family’s reputation.”
“Fitzwilliam, will you lay with me tonight? Just comfort. You seem in need of solace.”
“No Belly. My devotion to Elizabeth, despite her current lack of trust, is here to stay. From the moment I saw her with her ‘fine fiery eyes’ beckoning me to know her… shining with her desire to know me… I have been lost.”
Darcy came over to the settee where Belly was sitting, and he gazed at her with a mixture of desperation and determination. “I need soothing, but that will have to wait until I am with Elizabeth as her husband. Accomplishing that state as soon as possible is most important. Mrs T has given me addresses and contacts within the demimonde who might pay a bounty for a recently ruined gentleman’s daughter. My evening will be spent visiting them. Tomorrow, I must win her father over to my side.”
Darcy enfolded Bella in a chaste embrace. Her head rested on his shoulder as her arms encircled his waist. She sniffed a bit as she whispered, “I will always remember our times together with pleasure.”
He whispered back, "We part knowing that the loves we have found add that liveliness we confided to each other, oh so many years ago… that we needed to be happy."
“Fitzwilliam, do me a favour. Encourage your cousin Richard to visit me often. He is the second most pleasing gentleman of my acquaintance. Until he finds his own true love, he will be able to bring me news of you, your lovely Elizabeth, and I hope he will soon tell me of your children.”
Elizabeth had only arrived home the previous evening; and her aunt, uncle and cousins had departed for London shortly after breakfast this morning. They had scarcely been gone an hour when an express rider arrived with a package for her. It was from Georgiana in London; and she was confused as to why she was not in Derbyshire.
She took the parcel upstairs to her room, but did not unwrap it. She would wait until bedtime. It would delay her attempt to sleep. Since they had left Lambton, every time she closed her eyes, tears came. She would cry for what seemed like hours, until exhaustion forced her into slumber.
The journey from Derbyshire to Longbourn had been uneventful. Her recollection was minimal of both the passing countryside and the quality of the inns where they stopped. She did not remember any meaningful conversation with her aunt and uncle. Her thoughts had been a continuous loop—starting with his riding up to the temple, and ending with watching him recede as the carriage left Lambton. Certain scenes made her wince, but others made her smile. Sometimes, as the events played out the same picture that had made her cringe the time before, caused her to shiver with pleasure.
During the day, she attended her distraught mother who had taken to her bed. There were no words of comfort she could think to speak for her mother, her sisters or herself. She stood helplessly by with Mary and Kitty while Jane applied cold compresses to their mother’s head. Mary whispered to Lizzy, “This is a most unfortunate affair, and we can expect our family’s tribulations to beget much talk. But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into the wounded bosoms of each other the balm of sisterly consolation.”
When she perceived that Elizabeth only stared at her with a look of horror on her face, and had no inclination to speak, she added, "Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw from it a useful lesson… loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable—one false step involves her in endless ruin. A woman’s reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful—and she cannot be too careful in her behaviour towards the undeserving of the other sex."
Elizabeth felt tears sting her eyes at her sister’s words. In the past, she would have scoffed at Mary’s pontificating, but on this day she believed her sister made some sense, and it pained her that her words applied to her as well as Lydia… though Will was hardly undeserving.
Mary was oblivious of her sister’s discomfort with the topic, and continued to console herself with moral extractions with regards the evil before them.
Later in the day, Jane questioned Lizzy if there was something bothering her beyond fear for their sister and the family’s reputation. Elizabeth assured her there was nothing more on her mind, but Jane could not reconcile her lively sister being the most morose in her assessment of their catastrophe. She observed at dinner that Lizzy did not eat, and she remembered she had had only picked at her breakfast. After dinner, Elizabeth retired to her room at the earliest possible moment.
Looking over to her bed in dread of another fitful night, she saw the package that had arrived earlier in the day.
The contents seemed to be padded. What was Georgie sending her? When the wrapping paper and padding—a beautiful rosy pink cashmere shawl—were off, her hands began to shake and sweat began to accumulate above her lip. Before her, was Lady Anne’s depiction of the cottage, the version from his study, she was certain. This was not from Georgiana, but from him. She stared; memorizing every stone in the facade, every rose petal in the arbour, and every drop of water falling over the cascade… she concentrated on any detail to distract her thoughts of what had occurred inside.
She turned the painting over and saw that a piece of paper had been attached to the back. Written on it was the pertinent information about its creation—Lady Anne Darcy, June, 1797, Pemberley. The paper was transparent enough that Elizabeth thought she saw writing on the other side.
10
THE STALLION RACES TO THE RESCUE
Mrs Teasewell and Mr Darcy travelled in a nondescript carriage in the direction of Piccadilly. They were going to Mrs Harden’s establishment on Cockspur Street. The two occupants in the conveyance laughed at her name and the address of her establishment. Mrs T told him that one of the major motives for her friend choosing the location was the name of the street. As they passed King Street, Darcy asked his companion, “Have you visited the Cave of Harmony?”
“I have. You will not believe me when I confess, that I was embarrassed by some of the lyrics I heard. It is the practice at Teasewell House to speak of body parts discreetly behind closed doors. The performers at the Cave are up on stage singing quite loudly of the activities of characters with names like Roger and Fanny. One was about a gardener named Roger and the lyric went something like; ‘He pulled out his rake and went to work—on the sweet little bower at the top of Thigh Lane.’ Another had Fanny as a milkmaid who is invited by Roger to squeeze another sort of udder. I particularly enjoyed the one about a village girl watching a military parade. All she wanted was to play with the lieutenant’s sword.” Mrs T had observed Darcy fully appreciating the bawdy lyrics, until she mentioned the last. “Have I offended you with my talk of what goes on at the Cave?”
