by Jane Austen
Darcy pulled back to allow them both to take a breath, then began trailing feather-light kisses down her neck. Elizabeth closed her eyes and got lost in the sensation, but somehow even in her lust-addled brain, her earlier doubts reappeared.
“Mr Darcy, please. I can’t do this, I…”
Darcy looked up and met her gaze. His breathing was heavy and his eyes fiery with a passion that seemed to burn into her very soul, setting her entire body alight.
“If I gave you my word that upon my honour I would not do anything you did not explicitly want, would you have faith in me?”
She should not. She hardly knew the man, after all, and what she did know was not all good. The only conceivable answer to his question was no, she could not have faith in him.
“Yes,” she breathed.
Darcy swallowed hard. “Then let me pleasure you with my mouth and I swear upon my honour we will do no more.”
Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath, excited more than she dared to admit by his coarse words. She nodded her agreement and Darcy’s smile was bright. His mouth descended on her neck and she squeezed her eyes shut, getting lost in the thrill of what she was doing, getting lost in him. Confident hands lifted the hem of her dress and his fingers teased their way up her legs. He parted them.
“What…?” She opened her eyes, some of her earlier unease returning, but his gentle smile relieved some of her doubt.
Darcy replaced his fingers with his mouth, his tongue teasing its way up her leg, along her thighs. Elizabeth’s breath came faster as he neared her sex, then without warning he covered it with his mouth, flicking his tongue over the material of her undergarments. Elizabeth gasped, shocked at what he was doing to her.
His fingers slid into the waistband and he tugged them down a little and kissed the flesh beneath. He pulled them down farther.
“Oh no, I…”
“I promise you, Elizabeth,” he rasped. “Just my mouth.”
She allowed him to take off the garment, but felt vulnerable and exposed. She moved her hands to cover herself, but he shook his head.
“Let me look. You are beautiful.”
She removed her hands and Darcy gave an appreciative growl. He lowered his head and his tongue licked her sex, tasting her. A deep moan rumbled in his chest. Elizabeth cried out, but immediately regretted it, her head swivelling to the closed door.
“We are quite safe here,” Darcy said. “No one will hear us over the music downstairs.”
He snaked his tongue out to wet his lips, then lowered his head again and licked her once more. The foreign sensation was simply divine. The more his tongue swept over her heated flesh, the more she desired it, needed it even. No further words were spoken. While she watched in both disbelief and tremendous curiosity, Darcy flicked his tongue over her again and again. Elizabeth threw her head back, enjoying the tantalising wetness and the wonderful feelings it produced. He licked and sucked, nibbled at her until Elizabeth thought she was going to fly apart from the sheer delight of it. The sweeps of Darcy’s tongue grew faster as he lapped at her with abandon and Elizabeth could feel something building inside, rising within like a powerful tide about to break on the shore. Her knuckles were white as she grasped the bed linens and her legs clenched with each glorious lick of his tongue. The intimate act made her feel vulnerable, but incredibly powerful at the same time. Then he began to suck in earnest and the unknown occurrence she was barrelling towards became suddenly within her grasp.
The strokes of his tongue took her higher and higher until she felt that she was flying, utterly unaware of anything and everything but the sensations that were rolling through her body. Time seemed to stand still as she held on to the sheets as though they were the only thing that could keep her grounded. But it was not enough. Darcy’s hands gripped her thighs as an explosion she was unprepared for roared through her body. She squeezed her eyes shut and cried out. The timbre of her voice was low and husky, the sound unlike any she had made before. Her legs shook with uncontrollable tremors and through it all, Darcy kept his mouth on her, teasing out the release, extending it. When it was over, Elizabeth could only stare, in awe of what had happened. Darcy grinned and licked his lips before sitting back on his heels, looking utterly pleased with himself.
Elizabeth lay back for a few moments before reality set in and she sat up quickly, worriedly staring at the door. “I am not sure I know what to say.”
“So do not say anything.” Darcy smiled reassuringly. “I suppose you had better get back to the ball. You will be missed, I dare say.”
Elizabeth nodded then hesitated. “What about…you?” She nodded in the direction of his manhood, heat rising in her cheeks.
Darcy laughed. “Oh, fear not. I will be quite all right.”
As soon as her clothing looked appropriate, Elizabeth crossed the room, surprised at how shaky her legs had become. She looked back as she pulled open the door. Quite embarrassed by what had happened, she could barely look Mr Darcy in the eye. “I suppose I will see you later,” said she.
“Soon enough,” Darcy said quietly. He looked as uncomfortable with the situation now as she felt.
Elizabeth quickly made her way through the house until she stood outside the large reception room that held the ball. Standing at the door for a moment to gather her thoughts, she was utterly mortified with what had happened. How could she have allowed it? If anyone were to find out, if her family knew… She took a deep breath, hoping the colour that had undoubtedly risen in her cheeks had dispersed, and rejoined the party.
She had not long separated from Mr Darcy, when Miss Bingley came towards her, and with an expression of civil disdain accosted her.
“So, Miss Eliza, I hear you are quite delighted with George Wickham. Your sister has been talking to me about him, and asking me a thousand questions, and I find that the young man quite forgot to tell you, among his other communication, that he was the son of old Wickham, the late Mr Darcy’s steward. Let me recommend you, however, as a friend, not to give implicit confidence to all his assertions. As to Mr Darcy’s using him ill, it is perfectly false, for, on the contrary, he has always been remarkably kind to him, though George Wickham has treated Mr Darcy in a most infamous manner. I do not know the particulars, but I know very well that Mr Darcy is not in the least to blame, that he cannot bear to hear George Wickham mentioned, and that though my brother thought that he could not well avoid including him in his invitation to the officers, he was excessively glad to find that he had taken himself out of the way. His coming into the country at all is a most insolent thing, indeed, and I wonder how he could presume to do it. I pity you, Miss Eliza, for this discovery of your favourite’s guilt, but really, considering his descent, one could not expect much better.”
Elizabeth was so full of shame at what had occurred that she answered Miss Bingley much more sharply than she ought. “His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same,” said Elizabeth angrily, “for I have heard you accuse him of nothing worse than of being the son of Mr Darcy’s steward, and of that, I can assure you, he informed me himself.” Elizabeth had to wonder why Miss Bingley felt the need to warn her about Mr Wickham. Had Darcy said something to her? Was he jealous of their acquaintance?
“I beg your pardon,” replied Miss Bingley, turning away with a sneer. “Excuse my interference—it was kindly meant.”
“Insolent girl!” said Elizabeth to herself. “You are much mistaken if you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and the malice of Mr Darcy.” She then sought her eldest sister, who had undertaken to make enquiries on the same subject of Bingley. She could barely look her sister in the eye. Jane met her with a smile of such sweet complacency, a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently marked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening. Elizabeth instantly read her feelings, and at that moment solicitude for Wickham, resentment against his enemies, and everything else, gave way before
the hope of Jane’s being in the fairest way for happiness.
“I want to know,” said she, with a countenance no less smiling than her sister’s, “what you have learnt about Mr Wickham. But perhaps you have been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person, in which case you may be sure of my pardon.”
“No,” replied Jane, “I have not forgotten him, but I have nothing satisfactory to tell you. Mr Bingley does not know the whole of his history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which have principally offended Mr Darcy, but he will vouch for the good conduct, the probity, and honour of his friend, and is perfectly convinced that Mr Wickham has deserved much less attention from Mr Darcy than he has received. I am sorry to say by his account as well as his sister’s, Mr Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. I am afraid he has been very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Mr Darcy’s regard.”
“Mr Bingley does not know Mr Wickham himself?”
“No, he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton.”
“This account then is what he has received from Mr Darcy. I am satisfied. But what does he say of the living?”
“He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he has heard them from Mr Darcy more than once, but he believes that it was left to him conditionally only.”
“I have not a doubt of Mr Bingley’s sincerity,” said Elizabeth warmly, “but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only. Mr Bingley’s defence of his friend was a very able one, I dare say, but since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has learnt the rest from that friend himself, I shall venture to still think of both gentlemen as I did before.” Though Elizabeth was quite sure that if her sister knew exactly what she thought of Mr Darcy, and what she had allowed him to do to her, she would be both suitably horrified and disappointed. Her sister’s regard would be forever lost.
She then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to each, and on which there could be no difference of sentiment. Elizabeth listened with delight to the happy, though modest hopes which Jane entertained of Mr Bingley’s regard, and said all in her power to heighten her confidence in it. On their being joined by Mr Bingley himself, Elizabeth withdrew to Miss Lucas, to whose enquiry after the pleasantness of her last partner she had scarcely replied, before Mr Collins came up to them, and told her with great exultation that he had just been so fortunate as to make a most important discovery.
“I have found out,” said he, “by a singular accident, that there is now in the room a near relation of my patroness. I happened to overhear the gentleman himself mentioning to the young lady who does the honours of the house the names of his cousin Miss de Bourgh, and of her mother Lady Catherine. How wonderfully these sort of things occur! Who would have thought of my meeting with, perhaps, a nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh in this assembly! I am most thankful that the discovery is made in time for me to pay my respects to him, which I am now going to do, and trust he will excuse my not having done it before. My total ignorance of the connection must plead my apology.”
“You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr Darcy!”
“Indeed I am. I shall entreat his pardon for not having done it earlier. I believe him to be Lady Catherine’s nephew. It will be in my power to assure him that her ladyship was quite well yesterday se’nnight.”
Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme, assuring him that Mr Darcy would consider his addressing him without introduction as an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to his aunt. It was not in the least necessary there should be any notice on either side, and if it were, it must belong to Mr Darcy, the superior in consequence, to begin the acquaintance.
Mr Collins listened to her with the determined air of following his own inclination, and, when she ceased speaking, replied thus, “My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the world in your excellent judgement in all matters within the scope of your understanding. But permit me to say, that there must be a wide difference between the established forms of ceremony amongst the laity, and those which regulate the clergy, for, give me leave to observe that I consider the clerical office as equal in point of dignity with the highest rank in the kingdom—provided that a proper humility of behaviour is at the same time maintained. You must therefore allow me to follow the dictates of my conscience on this occasion, which leads me to perform what I look on as a point of duty. Pardon me for neglecting to profit by your advice, which on every other subject shall be my constant guide, though in the case before us I consider myself more fitted by education and habitual study to decide on what is right than a young lady like yourself.”
And with a low bow he left her to attack Mr Darcy, whose reception of his advances she eagerly watched, and whose astonishment at being so addressed was very evident. Her cousin prefaced his speech with a solemn bow and though she could not hear a word of it, she felt as if hearing it all, and saw in the motion of his lips the words “apology,” “Hunsford,” and “Lady Catherine de Bourgh.” It vexed her to see him expose himself to such a man. Mr Darcy was eyeing him with unrestrained wonder, and when at last Mr Collins allowed him time to speak, replied with an air of distant civility. Mr Collins, however, was not discouraged from speaking again, and Mr Darcy’s contempt seemed abundantly increasing with the length of his second speech, and at the end of it he only made him a slight bow, and moved another way. Mr Collins then returned to Elizabeth.
“I have no reason, I assure you,” said he, “to be dissatisfied with my reception. Mr Darcy seemed much pleased with the attention. He answered me with the utmost civility, and even paid me the compliment of saying that he was so well convinced of Lady Catherine’s discernment as to be certain she could never bestow a favour unworthily. It was really a very handsome thought. Upon the whole, I am much pleased with him.”
As Elizabeth was determined to avoid Mr Darcy, unable to even look at him after what had passed between them, and had no longer any other interest of her own to pursue, she turned her attention almost entirely on her sister and Mr Bingley. The train of agreeable reflections which her observations gave birth to, made her perhaps almost as happy as Jane. She saw her in idea settled in that very house, in all the felicity which a marriage of true affection could bestow, and she felt capable, under such circumstances, of endeavouring even to like Bingley’s two sisters. Her mother’s thoughts she plainly saw were bent the same way, and she determined not to venture near her, lest she might hear too much. When they sat down to supper, therefore, she considered it a most unlucky perverseness which placed them within one of each other. Deeply was she vexed to find that her mother was talking to that one person—Lady Lucas—freely, openly, and of nothing else but her expectation that Jane would soon be married to Mr Bingley. It was an animating subject, and Mrs Bennet seemed incapable of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the match. His being such a charming young man, and so rich, and living but three miles from them, were the first points of self-gratulation, and then it was such a comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of Jane, and to be certain that they must desire the connection as much as she could do. It was, moreover, such a promising thing for her younger daughters, as Jane’s marrying so greatly must throw them in the way of other rich men. Lastly, it was so pleasant at her time of life to be able to consign her single daughters to the care of their sister, that she might not be obliged to go into company more than she liked. It was necessary to make this circumstance a matter of pleasure, because on such occasions it is the etiquette, but no one was less likely than Mrs Bennet to find comfort in staying home at any period of her life. She concluded with many good wishes that Lady Lucas might soon be equally fortunate, though evidently and triumphantly believing there was no chance of it.
In vain did Elizabeth endeavour to check the rapidity of her mother’s words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible whisper, for, to her inexpressible vexation, she could perceive that the chief of it was overheard by Mr Da
rcy, who to her absolute horror sat opposite to them. Elizabeth sank lower in her seat with each word her mother uttered. What must Mr Darcy think of her and her family now? It could be nothing good. Her mother only scolded Elizabeth for being nonsensical.
“What is Mr Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say nothing he may not like to hear.”
“For heaven’s sake, madam, speak lower. What advantage can it be for you to offend Mr Darcy? You will never recommend yourself to his friend by so doing!”
Nothing that she could say, however, had any influence. Her mother would talk of her views in the same intelligible tone. Elizabeth blushed and blushed again with shame and vexation. She could not help frequently glancing her eye at Mr Darcy, though every glance convinced her of what she dreaded, for though he was not always looking at her mother, she was convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. The expression of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and steady gravity. On the occasions that their gazes met, there was nothing but coldness in Mr Darcy’s eyes, and though she was not entirely sure his grave looks had anything to do with her and what had happened in his chamber, she suspected as much. On each glance he turned his head away quickly. He obviously regretted what they had done. The rebuff stung Elizabeth greatly, though she was not surprised by it. How could he have any respect for her after what she had allowed to happen? No woman of high regard and class would do such a thing. Her mother’s loose tongue must have substantiated what he undoubtedly already thought of her and her family. Elizabeth had not been prepared for the extent of her discontent and utter humiliation. It caused a sharp pain in her chest, and she prayed for the night to be over quickly so she could forget about everything that had happened.
At length, however, Mrs Bennet had no more to say, and Lady Lucas, who had been long yawning at the repetition of delights which she saw no likelihood of sharing, was left to the comforts of cold ham and chicken. Elizabeth now began to revive. But not long was the interval of tranquillity, for, when supper was over, singing was talked of, and she had the mortification of seeing Mary, after very little entreaty, preparing to oblige the company. By many significant looks and silent entreaties, did she endeavour to prevent such a proof of complaisance, but in vain. Mary would not understand them. Such an opportunity of exhibiting was delightful to her, and she began her song. Elizabeth’s eyes were fixed on her with most painful sensations, and she watched her progress through the several stanzas with an impatience which was very ill rewarded at their close, for Mary, on receiving, amongst the thanks of the table, the hint of a hope that she might be prevailed on to favour them again, after the pause of half a minute began another. Mary’s powers were by no means fitted for such a display. Her voice was weak, and her manner affected. Elizabeth was in agonies. She looked at Jane, to see how she bore it, but Jane was very composedly talking to Bingley. She looked at his two sisters, and saw them making signs of derision at each other, and at Darcy, who continued, however, imperturbably grave. She looked at her father to entreat his interference, lest Mary should be singing all night. He took the hint, and when Mary had finished her second song, said aloud, “That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit.”
