by Jane Hunter
His teeth nipped at her shoulder as his fingers teased her silken folds. Elizabeth moaned and encouraged him with the movement of her hips. She could feel his hard length pressing against her buttocks, and she rubbed against it, teasing him with her body as he inflamed hers.
He groaned hotly against her neck and slid his fingers gently inside her, causing her to gasp aloud as she felt a hot pleasure beginning to build.
Boldly, she reached back to feel him, knowing instinctively that he was already naked in bed behind her. Her fingers encircled his hard length gently, tentatively, and he groaned as she began to stroke him slowly. He moved his hips, thrusting into her hand, mimicking the motion of the thrusts that would soon pierce her hot core. She moaned at the promise of what was to come, and opened her thighs to encourage the movement of his fingers at her hot entrance.
His breathing was harsh against her neck, and Elizabeth’s breathing soon matched his as a tightness began to coil in her stomach. All at once, it was as though he could bear it no more, and his hand slid from between her thighs to pull her nightgown up over her hips. Elizabeth gasped at the sudden emptiness she felt, but that gasp soon turned into a cry of delighted surprise when the thick head of his manhood pushed against her womanly portals. She was slick and ready for him, but he paused briefly, as though waiting for something.
“Please,” Elizabeth gasped as she moved her hips back, teasing the head of his member with her hot wetness. Mr. Darcy groaned deep in his throat, and Elizabeth moaned as his long member slipped inside her, stretching and filling her utterly.
Elizabeth gave a shuddering gasp as her Mr. Darcy paused again, his manhood reaching the barrier of her maidenhead. Elizabeth gritted her teeth and pushed her hips back, breaching the thin membrane herself when she grew impatient to feel him fully inside her. Her eyes filled with tears at the sudden pain, but Mr. Darcy’s soothing voice murmured in her ear, encouraging her and praising her as he began to move his hips, thrusting slow and deep into her. The pain passed in an instant, to be replaced with only pleasure. He held her tightly against his chest and a tightness began to coil in Elizabeth’s belly at the new sensations coursed through her body. Mr. Darcy’s thrusts were deep and measured, and Elizabeth cried out quietly at the pleasure that rushed through her body. Pleasure that was only heightened as Darcy slid a hand over her hip and between her legs to further tease and rub at the tight center of her femininity.
Elizabeth cried out sharply as the speed of Darcy’s thrusts increased, driving her over the edge of pleasure. He held her tightly as her climax rushed through her body, her silken walls clenching around his throbbing manhood. With a groan, he whispered her name and reached his own climax moments later. He clutched her to his chest and they rocked together as the tremors of pleasure vibrated through their bodies.
“I love you, Elizabeth,” he whispered in her ear before pressing his heated kiss to her neck and her shoulder.
“And I love you, William,” she murmured sleepily. Thus cradled in her his arms, his manhood still buried deep inside her, Elizabeth felt her eyelids drift closed and sleep overtook her in moments.
* * *
Elizabeth was woken in the morning by the pale light of the summer morning that streamed through her window. She sat up slowly, memories of the night before rushing back to her waking mind. She rubbed her face and looked at the bed she had shared with Mr. Darcy, expecting to see his sleeping form, but she was alone in the room. Realization flooded her as a delicious ache throbbed between her thighs. Tears filled her eyes as she felt the weight of what she had done settle upon her shoulders. She was ruined.
“Ruined,” she whispered aloud. There was no other word for it. How could she have let this happen? How could she have been so careless with her honor?
I love you, Elizabeth.
Mr. Darcy had spoken those four words in her ear, there was no mistaking it. And she had replied... she had said she loved him too.
Elizabeth groaned and covered her face with her hands. How would she ever come back from this misstep? Was there any way to repair what had been done?
She had lain with a man who was not her husband... there had been no talk of engagement, and he had not renewed his proposal. Nor had he woken her when he left...
Elizabeth hit the mattress with her fist in frustration. How could she have been so foolish, so wanton? How would she live with the shame of it? What if Mr. Darcy did not renew his proposal at all? She was sullied — ruined — now, and what gentleman of any worth would have her now?
Elizabeth rose from the bed and threw her blankets haphazardly upon the mattress. The sheets were rumpled, and the pillows dented by more than one head. She wondered briefly how long Mr. Darcy had stayed, and who had seen him depart the inn. Shame pounded hotly in her chest as she thought of her father – how would she ever explain herself to him? What would she tell Jane?
Her sister would know immediately that something was amiss, but Elizabeth did not dare believe that Jane would be anything but shocked and dismayed.
The thought of Jane’s disappointment was enough to cause her eyes to prickle with tears once more. She felt sick and her stomach rolled as she thought of going down to the breakfast room and sitting across from her aunt and uncle as though nothing had happened. But that was what she must do.
Instead of ringing her bell for hot washing water, Elizabeth splashed the cold water from the night before over her face and neck, punishing herself with the chill that shivered through her. She dressed quickly, expecting her aunt to knock on the door at any moment.
Would they be able to see a change in her? Would they know that something had happened during the night? Elizabeth tried to shake away her panicked thoughts and looked at herself in the small mirror that hung on the wall above the vanity. She looked tired, but otherwise well. Her aunt might enquire as to how she had slept, but that would be an easy question to answer.
She placed a hand upon her burning cheek and tried to smile at her reflection. The result was a tremulous shadow of her usual expression, but it would have to do. Dissolving into tears over her morning tea would be of no use to anyone. She added one final pin to her hair and left the room, closing the door tightly behind her before descending the stairs that led to the main floor of the inn and the breakfast room. Mr. Gardiner would have already secured a table, as he was wont to rise very early in the morning, regardless of the events of the previous evening.
As she expected, her aunt and uncle were both seated at a table, a pot of tea between them and a plate of scones half-devoured at Mr. Gardiner’s elbow. Her uncle was reading a newspaper very intently as his wife opened letters that had arrived for them at the inn.
“Lizzie,” Mrs. Gardiner greeted her warmly and poured a cup of tea for her niece. “You have come just in time, your uncle has not eaten every scrap of food, and the tea is still warm.”
“I thank you,” Elizabeth said quietly, “but I believe I tea will suffice for now.”
“Are you not well?” Mrs. Gardiner asked, her voice full of motherly concern that made Elizabeth doubt that she would be able to hold back her tears for much longer. Her own mother would not have enquired after her so tenderly, and she was feeling far more fragile than she had expected. Faced with the cold reality of her actions, the prospect of what was to come was all the more bleak.
“Oh no, I am quite well,” Elizabeth managed to stutter. “I slept rather poorly, but I will be myself again very soon, I am sure of it.”
Mrs. Gardiner’s expression was sympathetic, and she pressed a cool hand to Elizabeth’s cheek. “You do look ill, my dear, I do hope it will pass.” She held up a letter, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “I have a letter from Pemberley... an invitation to supper.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened and she winced as the hot tea scalded her lips. “Another invitation to supper? So soon?”
Mrs. Gardiner smiled and read the letter again. “Indeed,” she replied. “It seems that Mr. Darcy and his sister were most en
tertained by our presence... I should think that they would not receive guests very often, and I could not bring myself to decline.” She looked at Elizabeth carefully, gauging her niece’s reaction. “Unless there is some reason that I should do so?”
Elizabeth set down her teacup and folded her hands in her lap. “No, indeed, aunt. I cannot think of any reason why we should not go to supper at Pemberley.”
“A most generous invitation,” said Mr. Gardiner from behind his newspaper. “I quite like that Darcy fellow. He is nothing at all how you described him, Lizzie. I daresay he is very agreeable.”
“Yes... indeed,” Elizabeth replied quietly. Mr. Gardiner arched her eyebrow, but did not enquire any further as to her niece’s thoughts, but Elizabeth would have been a fool to believe that her aunt did not suspect that something was amiss.
Mrs. Gardiner opened another letter and began to read while Elizabeth examined the letter that had come from Pemberley. It was written in an elegant hand on expensive paper, and sealed with a signet ring that, no doubt, matched the one that Mr. Darcy wore on the little finger of his right hand.
“Oh, no. Oh...” Mrs. Gardiner’s whispered words caused her husband to look up from his newspaper in alarm.
“What is it? News from London?”
“No...” came Mrs. Gardiner’s horrified whisper. “News from Longbourn.”
Elizabeth dropped Mr. Darcy’s letter and plucked the offending paper from Mrs. Gardiner’s shaking hand.
“It is from Jane,” she said, reading quickly. “Lydia... Lydia has disappeared from Brighton....”
“Oh, Lydia!” Mrs. Gardiner cried, covering her mouth with her hand to smother the sound of her disbelief.
“Mr. Wickham has quit the regiment and has also disappeared... and it is very likely that they have departed together!”
Mr. Gardiner slapped his newspaper down onto the table, upsetting his teacup and spilling hot tea over the tablecloth.
“Preposterous!” he said sharply. Elizabeth shook her head and handed her uncle the letter as Mrs. Gardiner’s arm wound around her waist and pulled her close.
“I must write to your Papa at once. There must be something we can do. They must be located at once.”
Elizabeth could only nod dumbly and accept her aunt’s comforting embrace. Lydia was a fool to put her trust in such a man as Mr. Wickham. Jane’s letter had said nothing as to whether Lydia and Mr. Wickham had been married, or if they had any intention of doing so — Elizabeth cringed at the thought of sharing a similar fate to her youngest sister. Ruined and scandalized with no hope of redemption. But while Elizabeth regretted her actions, she felt certain that Lydia did not share the same good sense. She could almost hear her sister’s laughter at her ‘grand joke.’
Foolish, selfish, Lydia.
But could she condemn her sister for actions that she, herself, had partaken in so willingly?
Mr. Gardiner rose from his chair, his face flushed with anger. “We must leave for London at once. My dear, you must write to Mr. Darcy and make our apologies.”
“Apologies, why, whatever for?”
Elizabeth turned to see Mr. Darcy standing in the doorway of the breakfast room, his hat clutched in his hand.
“Mr. Darcy, I am afraid that we have received some news that requires our most urgent departure from Lambton,” Mr. Gardiner said, going to the door to greet Mr. Darcy with a firm handshake. “We shall be setting out for London as soon as a carriage is available. I am sorry that we must decline your invitation to supper.”
“I am sorry to hear of it,” Mr. Darcy said. Elizabeth looked down at her teacup, unable to meet his dark gaze. Her heart pounded in her chest and she knew that Mrs. Gardiner could feel a change in her posture when Mr. Darcy entered the room. “May I know the cause for your hasty departure, Mr. Gardiner?”
“My niece, Lydia. She has abandoned her chaperone and departed Brighton in the company of one Mr. Wickham. An officer known to her from the Meryton regiment.”
Elizabeth watched Mr. Darcy carefully out of the corner of her eye and saw him press his lips together tightly.
“Indeed,” he said after a moment. “Have they left any clue as to where they might have gone?”
“No, indeed,” Mr. Gardiner replied with a shake of his head. “I must return to London at once to begin the search. They must come through London, and I must speak to my contacts there to seek them out.”
“A most dire situation,” Mr. Darcy said, his expression stony. “I share your hope of finding the girl before anything... happens.”
“Indeed, Mr. Darcy, I thank you,” replied Mr. Gardiner, shaking Mr. Darcy’s outstretched hand. “Do extend our apologies to your sister that we shall not see her again before we depart.”
“I will be sure to do so.”
With that, Mr. Darcy turned from the doorway and left the inn. Elizabeth watched him briefly through the windows as he retrieved his horse and stepped up into the saddle.
Why had he come to the inn? Had he come to speak to her? Perhaps even to renew his proposal? Her stomach churned as she wondered if he had come for just that purpose and then changed his mind when he had heard of Lydia’s flight from Brighton... One sister ruined by his own hand was one thing, but to have another wanton in the family—perhaps it was too much to bear and he had changed his mind.
Oh, Lydia. She could not have known that her actions would impact the entirety of her family, but Elizabeth did not doubt that if she did know, Lydia would be having a hearty laugh about the distress she had placed upon her sisters.
Elizabeth closed her eyes as the sound of Mr. Darcy’s horse cantering over the gravel away from the inn echoed through the breakfast room. What if that was the last time she would ever see him?
“Come now, Lizzie, you must go and pack your valise. We will leave as soon as Mr. Gardiner is able to secure a carriage,” Mrs. Gardiner said, patting Elizabeth’s hand.
“Yes... yes, of course.”
Elizabeth rose from the table and walked up the stairs to her room in a daze... everything was different now. Not just because of what had happened to her, but what Lydia had done—there would be no erasing this mistake, no hiding this folly; and no matter the outcome, it would taint them all.
* * *
To be concluded in Elizabeth’s Answer: Book 4 of Marrying Miss Bennet.
Elizabeth’s Answer
Elizabeth Bennet packed her valise slowly. With the arrival of Jane’s letter, and the knowledge that somewhere, Lydia and Mr. Wickham were doing their very best to spread shame over the entire family, Elizabeth could not bear to stay away from Hertfordshire any longer. Her aunt and uncle had agreed immediately, and they would set out from the inn as soon as Mr. Gardiner could secure a carriage.
As stunned as she was at what had transpired in only the last few hours, there was nothing that could calm her thoughts in regards to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Gentleman though he was, he could be nothing more than a scoundrel... for all of his lofty talk, he was no better than Mr. Wickham, a man he claimed to despise.
Elizabeth shoved her nightdress into her valise, furious that she had allowed herself to be compromised in such a manner. It should never have happened. She should never have allowed... she paused, rubbing her fingers over the side of her neck where Mr. Darcy’s kiss had burned into her flesh the night before.
He had said he loved her.
And she had replied the same.
“Foolish,” she said aloud, throwing a pair of gloves on top of her nightdress.
“Lizzie? Are you quite all right?”
Elizabeth turned to see her aunt standing in the doorway, an expression of mild concern upon her face.
“Yes, of course. It is nothing. I am merely overwhelmed... this business with Lydia... I hope we are not too late. Perhaps we shall discover them in London?”
Mrs. Gardiner smiled, entered the room, and picked up Elizabeth’s hairbrush to place it gently into the open valise.
“To be sure, we ar
e all very shocked,” she said quietly. “Your uncle has been good enough to find us a carriage. We may have a bit of luck on our side if we can leave within the hour.”
“Surely, it bodes well that he was able to find carriage so soon... the innkeeper did not seem optimistic that we would be able to leave so quickly.”
Mrs. Gardiner shook her head and placed another item in the valise. “No, indeed. It was most unexpected. Mr. Gardiner would not say where he had acquired it, only that it would be waiting for us when we were ready to depart.” She looked around the room, ignoring the question in her niece’s eyes. “Do you have everything?” she asked.
Elizabeth nodded dumbly and pulled a pair of gloves over her shaking hands. Mrs. Gardiner said nothing, but closed the valise. The latch clicked loudly and she held out her hand to Elizabeth.
“Come now, Lizzie. Let us depart. The innkeeper will send a boy up to retrieve this. The carriage awaits us, and your uncle will meet us in London.”
Though she had many questions, Elizabeth said nothing and followed her aunt obediently down the stairs. True to her word, a carriage waited in the courtyard.
Mrs. Gardiner spoke briefly to the innkeeper’s wife, who snapped her fingers at a young boy who shared her unique shade of carrot red hair and apple colored cheeks. He raced up the stairs to retrieve Elizabeth’s valise without a word and Elizabeth fought the urge to burst out laughing at his eagerness to follow his unspoken instructions. This was hardly the time for laughter.
“Mr. Gardiner has gone ahead on horseback,” the innkeeper’s wife said conversationally as she settled the accounts and gave a surprised Mrs. Gardiner an envelope.
“On horseback?”
“Indeed, a very fine horse if I do say so myself, madam. And a fine gentleman accompanied him too, and his horse was very fine as well...” The woman looked a little flustered, as though she suspected she should not have said anything about Mr. Gardiner’s departure.
