by Jane Austen
“Hate you! I was angry perhaps at first, but my anger soon began to take a proper direction.”
“I am almost afraid of asking what you thought of me, when we met at Pemberley. You blamed me for coming?”
“No indeed, I felt nothing but surprise.”
“Your surprise could not be greater than mine in being noticed by you. My conscience told me that I deserved no extraordinary politeness, and I confess that I did not expect to receive more than my due.”
“My object then,” replied Darcy, “was to show you, by every civility in my power, that I was not so mean as to resent the past, and I hoped to obtain your forgiveness, to lessen your ill opinion, by letting you see that your reproofs had been attended to. How soon any other wishes introduced themselves I can hardly tell, but I believe in about half an hour after I had seen you.”
He then told her of Georgiana’s delight in her acquaintance, and of her disappointment at its sudden interruption, which naturally leading to the cause of that interruption, she soon learnt that his resolution of following her from Derbyshire in quest of her sister had been formed before he quitted the inn, and that his gravity and thoughtfulness there had arisen from no other struggles than what such a purpose must comprehend.
She expressed her gratitude again, but it was too painful a subject to each, to be dwelt on further.
After walking several miles in a leisurely manner, and too busy to know anything about it, they found at last, on examining their watches, that it was time to be at home.
“What could become of Mr Bingley and Jane!” was a wonder which introduced the discussion of their affairs. Darcy was delighted with their engagement. His friend had given him the earliest information of it.
“I must ask whether you were surprised?” said Elizabeth.
“Not at all. When I went away, I felt that it would soon happen.”
“That is to say, you had given your permission. I guessed as much.” And though he exclaimed at the term, she found that it had been pretty much the case.
“On the evening before my going to London,” said he, “I made a confession to him, which I believe I ought to have made long ago. I told him of all that had occurred to make my former interference in his affairs absurd and impertinent. His surprise was great. He had never had the slightest suspicion. I told him, moreover, that I believed myself mistaken in supposing, as I had done, that your sister was indifferent to him, and as I could easily perceive that his attachment to her was unabated, I felt no doubt of their happiness together.”
Elizabeth could not help smiling at his easy manner of directing his friend.
“Did you speak from your own observation,” said she, “when you told him that my sister loved him, or merely from my information last spring?”
“From the former. I had narrowly observed her during the two visits which I had lately made here, and I was convinced of her affection.”
“And your assurance of it, I suppose, carried immediate conviction to him.”
“It did. Bingley is most unaffectedly modest. His diffidence had prevented his depending on his own judgement in so anxious a case, but his reliance on mine made everything easy. I was obliged to confess one thing, which for a time, and not unjustly, offended him. I could not allow myself to conceal that your sister had been in town three months last winter, that I had known it, and purposely kept it from him. He was angry. But his anger, I am persuaded, lasted no longer than he remained in any doubt of your sister’s sentiments. He has heartily forgiven me now.”
Elizabeth longed to observe that Mr Bingley had been a most delightful friend, so easily guided that his worth was invaluable, but she checked herself. She remembered that he had yet to learn to be laughed at, and it was rather too early to begin. In anticipating the happiness of Bingley, which of course was to be inferior only to his own, he continued the conversation for a little while. When he was convinced they were in no danger of being interrupted by the lovers he turned to Elizabeth and said, “As we now, I believe, are very much alone, would you consent to honouring me with a kiss?”
It had been some time that she had wished for the same thing herself and she agreed eagerly, words having failed her. Mr Darcy placed his hands on her upper arms and leaned in slowly, his eyes intent on her mouth.
“You have no idea how much I have dreamed of your lips against mine,” said he. “The memory of your kiss often kept me awake at night and well into the morning hours and I have long since desired to be inside you again, to feel your heat engulfing me, to have your soft, beautiful body writhing in ecstasy beneath mine own.”
Darcy’s words set Elizabeth alight and when his lips finally descended on hers, she murmured her approval and opened for him willingly, her body becoming pliant in his arms. His tongue slid effortlessly into her mouth and caressed hers. They kissed passionately for long moments and Elizabeth soon became aware of the wetness between her legs, of her fervent desire to have his sex buried to the hilt inside her. The kiss deepened, and Darcy crushed Elizabeth into his body, allowing her to feel the hardness of his manhood, to understand that his desire for her was as strong as it had ever been. When their mouths finally parted, Elizabeth trailed kisses along his throat and neck until she reached his earlobe and took it between her teeth.
“Please take me,” she whispered. “I need it. I ache for it.”
Her words were met with only a grunt of approval by Darcy. He stepped back and checked their surroundings, partly to assure they were alone, but also to discover a hiding place for them that was away from the road. He took hold of Elizabeth’s hand and led her from the lane to the trees beyond. They walked on for a short time until they came to a small clearing and without another word, he pulled her to the ground, laying her down on the grass and covering her body with his. He thrust his hips frantically, emphasising the urgency of his need to be buried inside her depths.
Much to Elizabeth’s relief and pleasure, Darcy lifted her skirts quickly and removed her undergarments, then fumbled to free himself from the confines of his own clothing. When his large manhood was revealed, it sat firm and proud against his stomach, and though she had seen it before, the length and girth of it still surprised her, making her wonder again how it was possible it could fit. As he held it in his palm, his hand moving steadily up and down, a bead of moisture appeared on the tip and Elizabeth had the most curious desire to taste it. She remembered Darcy with his mouth on her sex and how wonderful it had felt, how much pleasure she had derived from the act, and wanted to reciprocate. She moved out from under him and sat up, leaning forward to take him into her mouth.
The pained moan that tore from Darcy’s lips caused Elizabeth to pull back and look up at him in alarm.
“Oh God, did I hurt you?”
Darcy’s eyes were wild, dark with need, his lips parted as he drew in deep breaths. “Heavens no. Your mouth is…perfection. But I fear I may not be able to hold back if you do that for very much longer.”
Reassured she had not harmed him, Elizabeth returned his smile, and while holding his gaze, she leant forward again and swept her tongue across the tip of his sex, capturing the drops that were leaking there and savouring them. Darcy squeezed his eyes shut, let out a low moan and placed his hands on her head, his fingers tangling in the soft strands of hair as he held her in place. With nothing to guide her but instinct, Elizabeth closed her mouth and slid it down his length, but the tip of him nudged the back of her throat and she had to draw back or choke. The action drew a primal grunt of pleasure from Darcy’s lips and so Elizabeth repeated the action, moving up and down on him, letting his wordless moans and contented sighs direct her. She was only permitted the pleasure of the act for a few short moments before she felt a tug on her hair and heard Darcy’s breathless words.
“Elizabeth, please stop. I beg of you.”
Reluctantly conceding to his request, she let his manhood slip from her mouth and she sat back, looking up at him for guidance. He grabbed her face and kisse
d her furiously, devouring her lips and laying her down on the ground in one fluid motion. When he came atop her, his sex rubbed her thigh and she parted her legs to allow him entrance to her body. He pressed against her, but instead of pushing his way inside, he lifted his head and met her gaze.
“Tell me you want me,” he demanded. His voice was a deep rumble, husky and full of the promise of what was to come. “Tell me what you want from me.”
Elizabeth brushed aside all lingering reticence and held his gaze as she replied. “I’ve never desired anything in my entire life as I desire you now. I want you inside me. I need it more than I need air.”
His breath left him in a rush and without preamble he did as she asked, pushing his way inside, filling her so beautifully and so completely that she cried out at the sheer delight of it. Relief mixed with anticipation as he took her, sliding in and out of her body over and over again, gaining speed and intensity with each thrust of his hips. Fire blazed in his eyes as he looked down at her and she felt overwhelmed by the possession she saw in their depths—astounded, but perfectly at ease as though she were right where she needed to be. Her heart pounded as she breathed in the scents around her. The fresh, earthy smell of the forest, the pine trees, the grass beneath their bodies combined with the delicious scent of Darcy. He tilted her hips and met him thrust for thrust, her back arched, her feet digging into his hips. He groaned loudly as he penetrated her deeply, stretching her wide, and Elizabeth loved every glorious second of it. Their coupling became fast and furious and the harder he drove into her, the harder she wanted it.
Deep inside her body she could feel the build up to the earth-shattering release she had experienced before and she chased it, pleaded for it, digging her fingers into his buttocks as she gripped him tightly and tried to force him deeper inside. He was close too. She could tell by the irregular, somewhat frantic movement of his hips that had previously been in perfect rhythm with her own. The tingle started in her core and the base of her spine and she cried out as it reached a crescendo, blanketing her entire body with ecstasy which left her blind to everything but its power over her. At some time during her pleasure she was aware of Darcy calling out her name, his fingers digging bruisingly into her hips as he held her to him and emptied his seed into her body.
When they had both stopped trembling, Darcy slipped out of her and rolled her onto her side, his arms coming around her shoulders and holding her close. They lay like that for some time until the realisation that they would soon be missed came to them both.
“I wish we could stay here all day,” said Elizabeth as she tugged on her undergarments and righted her dress.
“When you become Mrs Darcy, we will,” replied he.
Elizabeth’s smile was bright. Mrs Darcy. She liked the sound of that very much. When their clothing was in order, they retraced their path through the trees and made their way back to the house. Darcy kept hold of Elizabeth’s hand until they were nearly in sight of it. As they reached the house, she offered him a secret smile and in the hall they parted. Elizabeth had never been as happy.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
“My dear Lizzy, where can you have been walking to?” was a question which Elizabeth received from Jane as soon as she entered their room, and from all the others when they sat down to table. She had only to say in reply, that they had wandered about, till she was beyond her own knowledge. She coloured as she spoke, but neither that, nor anything else, awakened a suspicion of the truth.
The evening passed quietly, unmarked by anything extraordinary. The acknowledged lovers talked and laughed, the unacknowledged were silent. Darcy was not of a disposition in which happiness overflows in mirth, and Elizabeth, agitated and confused, rather knew that she was happy than felt herself to be so, for, besides the immediate embarrassment, there were other evils before her. She anticipated what would be felt in the family when her situation became known. She was aware that no one liked him but Jane, and even feared that with the others it was a dislike which not all his fortune and consequence might do away.
At night she opened her heart to Jane. Though suspicion was very far from Miss Bennet’s general habits, she was absolutely incredulous here.
“You are joking, Lizzy. This cannot be—engaged to Mr Darcy! No, no, you shall not deceive me. I know it to be impossible.”
“This is a wretched beginning indeed! My sole dependence was on you, and I am sure nobody else will believe me, if you do not. Yet, indeed, I am in earnest. I speak nothing but the truth. He still loves me, and we are engaged.”
Jane looked at her doubtingly. “Oh, Lizzy, it cannot be. I know how much you dislike him.”
“You know nothing of the matter. That is all to be forgot. Perhaps I did not always love him so well as I do now. But in such cases as these, a good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever remember it myself.”
Miss Bennet still looked all amazement. Elizabeth again, and more seriously assured her of its truth.
“Good Heaven! Can it be really so! Yet now I must believe you,” cried Jane. “My dear, dear Lizzy, I would—I do congratulate you—but are you certain? Forgive the question—are you quite certain that you can be happy with him?”
“There can be no doubt of that. It is settled between us already, that we are to be the happiest couple in the world. But are you pleased, Jane? Shall you like to have such a brother?”
“Very, very much. Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more delight. But we considered it, we talked of it as impossible. And do you really love him quite well enough? Oh, Lizzy! Do anything rather than marry without affection. Are you quite sure that you feel what you ought to do?”
“Oh, yes! You will only think I feel more than I ought to do, when I tell you all.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why, I must confess that I love him better than I do Bingley. I am afraid you will be angry.”
“My dearest sister, now be serious. I want to talk very seriously. Let me know everything that I am to know, without delay. Will you tell me how long you have loved him?”
“It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began. But I believe I must date it from my first seeing his beautiful grounds at Pemberley.”
Another entreaty that she would be serious, however, produced the desired effect, and she soon satisfied Jane by her solemn assurances of attachment. When convinced on that article, Miss Bennet had nothing further to wish.
“Now I am quite happy,” said she, “for you will be as happy as myself. I always had a value for him. Were it for nothing but his love of you, I must always have esteemed him, but now, as Bingley’s friend and your husband, there can be only Bingley and yourself more dear to me. But Lizzy, you have been very sly, very reserved with me. How little did you tell me of what passed at Pemberley and Lambton! I owe all that I know of it to another, not to you.”
Elizabeth told her the motives of her secrecy. She had been unwilling to mention Bingley, and the unsettled state of her own feelings had made her equally avoid the name of his friend. But now she would no longer conceal from her his share in Lydia’s marriage. All was acknowledged, and half the night spent in conversation.
“Good gracious!” cried Mrs Bennet, as she stood at a window the next morning, “if that disagreeable Mr Darcy is not coming here again with our dear Bingley! What can he mean by being so tiresome as to be always coming here? I had no notion but he would go a-shooting, or something or other, and not disturb us with his company. What shall we do with him? Lizzy, you must walk out with him again, that he may not be in Bingley’s way.”
Elizabeth could hardly help laughing at so convenient a proposal, yet was really vexed that her mother should be always giving him such an epithet.
As soon as they entered, Bingley looked at her so expressively, and shook hands with such warmth, as left no doubt of his good information, and he soon afterwards said aloud, “Mrs Bennet, have you no more lanes hereabouts in which Lizzy may lose he
r way again today?”
“I advise Mr Darcy, and Lizzy, and Kitty,” said Mrs Bennet, “to walk to Oakham Mount this morning. It is a nice long walk, and Mr Darcy has never seen the view.”
“It may do very well for the others,” replied Mr Bingley, “but I am sure it will be too much for Kitty. Won’t it, Kitty?” Kitty owned that she had rather stay at home. Darcy professed a great curiosity to see the view from the Mount, and Elizabeth silently consented. As she went upstairs to get ready, Mrs Bennet followed her, saying, “I am quite sorry, Lizzy, that you should be forced to have that disagreeable man all to yourself. But I hope you will not mind it—it is all for Jane’s sake, you know, and there is no occasion for talking to him, except just now and then. So, do not put yourself to inconvenience.” Elizabeth could not think of an inconvenience she would like more.
During their walk, it was resolved that Mr Bennet’s consent should be asked in the course of the evening. Elizabeth reserved to herself the application for her mother’s. She could not determine how her mother would take it, sometimes doubting whether all his wealth and grandeur would be enough to overcome her abhorrence of the man. But whether she were violently set against the match, or violently delighted with it, it was certain that her manner would be equally ill adapted to do credit to her sense, and she could no more bear that Mr Darcy should hear the first raptures of her joy, than the first vehemence of her disapprobation.
In the evening, soon after Mr Bennet withdrew to the library, she saw Mr Darcy rise also and follow him, and her agitation on seeing it was extreme. She did not fear her father’s opposition, but he was going to be made unhappy, and that it should be through her means—that she, his favourite child, should be distressing him by her choice, should be filling him with fears and regrets in disposing of her—was a wretched reflection, and she sat in misery till Mr Darcy appeared again, when, looking at him, she was a little relieved by his smile. In a few minutes he approached the table where she was sitting with Kitty, and, while pretending to admire her work said in a whisper, “Go to your father, he wants you in the library.” She was gone directly.
