My Darcy Mutates…

by Enid Wilson

  “Lizzy, you are very quiet. What silly idea do you have, in addition to those of your sisters?” Mr. Bennet asked.

  “I think all of them seem to make sense.” Elizabeth said.

  “What? Are you out of your mind?” Mr. Bennet could not believe that his clever, favourite child could entertain such an idea.

  “I say that we should hide you when the militia comes, and that I shall disguise myself as a man and go in your place,” she announced with a determined glint in her eye.

  “I thought of the idea first,” Lydia exclaimed. “Let me go!”

  “No, Lydia. Let Lizzy go.” Mrs. Bennet took a protesting Lydia to one side, for Lydia was her favourite, and she did not want her to be sacrificed for her elderly father. She whispered to her, “Did you not hear that the enemy tortures and kills the members of our army? Your Aunt Philips said that the River Thames has turned pink from the blood of our men, and that Hoyden Park was covered with the remains of red coats.”

  “But she does not live near the River Thames or Hoyden Park. How can she be certain?” Lydia argued. “I want to be in a camp full of soldiers!”

  “I shall make you some red coats with old muslin and ribbon,” Mrs. Bennet said. “I am sure that, in no time, the war will end and men will return to court you. You are the tallest and have the liveliest disposition.”

  The compliments seemed to do the trick, soothing Lydia’s ego. With a pout, she agreed and walked away.

  When the sun rose the next day, several officers came to Longbourn. Before they could search the house, Elizabeth, dressed in gentleman’s clothes, volunteered to go with them. The officers were happy to be met with such co-operation, and they did not bother to search for other men at Longbourn.

  Elizabeth thought she would be assigned to do some manual job befitting a fit young “man” from the countryside. Instead, she was given several tests, upon arriving at the camp near Londonland, and was ranked as a Colonel and sent to work as General Darcy’s assistant.

  Before she entered the great man’s office, she heard a deep voice saying, “This Bennet scored well in the test. But are you sure he is not a fake? I cannot believe that a savage neighbourhood like Meryton can produce a person with such fine qualities and intelligence.”

  Elizabeth saw red. She had no interest in serving this arrogant man. She decided that she would taunt him whenever she could, hoping for a transfer soon.

  When she entered the room, she was shocked by the sight. General Darcy was alone, except for a tiny grey kangaroo with a smiling face. Who had he been talking to?

  Most militia wore a red coat, buttoned up from head to toe, like she herself. But General Darcy wore something altogether different. Indeed, he did not wear anything at all except a short leather kilt and a pair of long leather boots. He was exceptionally tall, perhaps six foot five. His shoulders were broad and his chest muscles looked hard.

  Elizabeth had a great urge to put her pale hands against his browned chest, just to see the contrast.

  “Welcome, Bennet.” A friendly sound woke her from her revel. The kangaroo had spoken!

  “Bingley at your service.” He bounced towards her and extended his paw. “I am General Darcy’s advisor.”

  Darcy snorted. “He is my sister’s pet. Now stop staring at my body and sit down. I want to test you myself.”

  When he turned to walk to his desk, Elizabeth’s gaze followed the swaying of the leather kilt, and the sight of his hairy legs. She gulped for air and followed him immediately. All thought of demanding a transfer seemed to have drained out of her head.

  Darcy opened the cabinet behind him and took out a bottle of red wine. He poured one glass for Elizabeth and one for himself.

  “Drink up!” he commanded.

  Elizabeth held his gaze and drank it.

  He gulped down his wine and scowled at her. “Too slow.” He poured another glass for each of them.

  She did as she was told and swallowed the second glass more quickly. Not a word was spoken between them; the only communication was their hot stares, as four bottles were consumed.

  “See? I told you Bennet was good.” Bingley laughed. “I will leave you two.” He bounced out of the room and closed the door.

  “You are …not bad,” Darcy said as he stood up unsteadily to clap Elizabeth on the shoulder. The move overbalanced them both, and they ended up crashing down onto the floor, with her pinned under him. Both immediately fell into a drunken sleep.

  In the morning, Darcy began by testing her skill at throwing darts. From there, the tests went on for several days. But Darcy woke up each morning with the strange feeling that he had been caressed and fondled in his dreams. He also seemed to remember breathing in the most alluring lavender scent during the whole night. Every morning, he found his body throbbing with…needs. But Bennet was a man, so Darcy was puzzled to realize that he had repeatedly experienced dreams of being with a woman.

  He decided to get to the bottom of the matter; today he would not conduct the test himself. He asked Bingley to drink, toast for toast, with Bennet, and he observed them both while standing aside. He could see that the young soldier seemed very nervous, his gaze darting to Darcy from time to time.

  Bennet was drunk by the sixth bottle. Darcy shooed Bingley out of his office, picked Bennet up and walked through the door to his sleeping quarters. When he placed him on the bed, Bennet suddenly spoke in a woman voice.

  “Arrogant pig, I hate you,” the sleepy soldier murmured. “But you have the most virile body. Your chest hair tastes delicious, and I love to twirl my finger around your cute navel…”

  Darcy’s eyes widened. A woman in disguise? So that was what had been happening every morning before he awoke. He could not believe that the recruitment officers had failed to discover her true identity before sending her to his office.

  Telling himself that it was his duty to verify the truth, he unbuttoned Bennet’s uniform jacket.

  Ah, such creamy alabaster skin! But her bosom was bound flat. What a pity!

  His arousal came on, full force. He was tempted to strip her bare and bury himself deep inside her. But General Darcy did not force himself on any woman, particularly not on one who was largely unconscious. Nevertheless, he could not bring himself to simply walk away.

  Rising, he locked the door, then stripped off his clothes and stretched out beside her.

  The sun shone inside the bedchamber, and Elizabeth woke to the musky smell of the General. She smiled, remembering her daring actions the past few mornings, when Darcy had yet to awaken. She had kissed nearly every inch of his body, except those forbidden parts hidden beneath his leather kilt. After all, she was a maiden. The man did not have a clue about her fondling him…

  She blinked her eyes, remembering the heavy drinking of the previous night. And when she tried to raise her body, she noticed that she was pinned down by a strong body.

  She opened her eyes more widely, and saw General Darcy’s bright smile. His angular body was heavy on top of her. She drew in a deep breath, and was alarmed to realize that she was nude, as was he.

  “What are you doing?” she said. She could not help but start to pant.

  “I am doing whatever you have done to me, the past few mornings, before I woke up.” He lowered his head to nip her earlobe. His wet tongue traced the inside of her ear, and then the back of it, sending shivers down her body.

  She wrapped her hands around his back and ran her fingers along his spine. He trembled in sharp reaction and bit her neck, while his hands kneaded her gorgeous breasts with a force that had built within him as he had eyed the alluring twin peaks over the past half hour.

  When he plucked her nipples hard, she moaned loudly against his ear. He found that he loved her uncontrollable sexy voice. Lowering himself, he suckled the creamy mounds, using his tongue to flick and tease the sensitive nipples. Such a sweet taste!

  She tore at his hair. Her body felt as if it were on fire, and her blood was rioting as it flowed down to
her apex. When he wanted to move lower to worship her sex, she was eager for him. She parted her legs more widely and rubbed her legs against his hard shaft with frantic enthusiasm.

  He let out a groan and gave in, pulling one of her knees to his waist. When he positioned himself and thrust into her decisively, she was tight. Very tight. He had never felt such intense pleasure before, from the friction and heat of her wet core.

  Pushing deeper and deeper, he broke through her virginal barrier and joined with her, as one body. She gasped from the sharp pain, but soon her aroused breathing urged him on. When she wrapped both her legs around his waist, he started the maddening dance, drawing in and out. He savoured her sweet scent, her smooth, tight muscles and her rhythmic cries. As he thrust and pounded, his head was spinning with pleasure, and they both reached ecstasy at the same moment.

  When they had caught their breath, he apologised for his initial remark. In turn, she told him her story, explaining the desire to save her elderly father that had prompted her to volunteer in his place.

  Darcy laughed out loud when he heard about the rumours of the war.

  “But, my love, the River Thames was pink because my bloody cousin, Richard The Blue Wizard, who is warring against me, overturned a ship which contained his pink virility potion.”

  “And the remains of the red coats in Hoyden Park?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Richard hated me for besting him over a game of darts and in drinking. In a fit of pique, he tore up any uniforms of our army that he could find, and then directed his man to trample on them in Hoyden Park.”

  “But where have all the men in the kingdom gone?” she asked, not understanding.

  “All are here in Londonland, drinking and learning how to throw darts. They compete with Blue Witch’s men every day and night. I only play him once a year. So far, I’ve won for the past two years.”

  “Men and their vices!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

  “Well, the darts and the drinking war will come to an end soon. Richard the Blue Wizard and I have agreed on a best-of-three-over-five-games rule. I only need to win over him this year and then all of the men can return to their homes. You have such a pair of fine eyes, I am sure you can teach my men better dartthrowing skills. And you can certainly drink most men under the table. I am confident that we can win over the Blue.”

  True to his words, General Darcy and Colonel Bennet triumphed over the Blue Wizard, in the end. All of the men were discharged and sent back to their homes. When Elizabeth returned home to her family, she arrived with her husband General Darcy and her baby boy. They stayed for a few days and then went back to Pemberley, Darcy’s estate, where they lived happily ever after.

  Lydia blamed her mother for forbidding her to go into the army. She was jealous of her sister’s good fortune, as Lydia now preferred a bare chest and leather kilt to a red coat.

  Prayer To Isis

  What if action of Pride and Prejudice had played out not in England but in Egypt?

  1435BC, Merytum, Lower Egypt

  Da, I will not forgive you this time, Elibeth swore as the boat left Merytum and sailed downstream. She was once again been married off to an upper-class husband without her consent, this time to a provincial leader no less.

  Brokered into marriage by her money-tight parents at the age of fourteen, and again at eighteen, her two previous marriages had been carried out only by proxy. Her first husband died in a shipping accident, and the second died in a military expansion, before either of them could actually meet their bride. After that, she had thought that she was safely done with having to live with strange families for months on end; she had been certain that she would spend the rest of her life contently at home.

  But she was not that fortunate. Her mother was in want of money again, and had apparently set her husband to marry Elibeth off again. Therefore, at the age of twenty-one, she was once again on a journey to the home of a strange family, the Darcymose.

  Darcymose was the provincial leader at Pemberlium, one of the richest administrative regions of the Egyptian Kingdom. His family had governed the lush region for hundreds of years and reported to the vizier, the Pharaoh’s second in command.

  Normally, the great provincial leader would not have considered Elibeth, a poor engineer’s daughter, to be suitable. But her last two marriages to men of great importance had elevated her status.

  Still, she did not understand why he chose her. She had heard that many of the wealthy families in the kingdom had been attempting to marry their daughters into the Darcymose’s family since the provincial leader turned fifteen. He was rumoured to be quite tall and handsome. But he had never married…until now. Her mother told her that he was on business in Upper Egypt, that explained why he wanted them to be married by proxy.

  Elibeth would have lashed out at her father if he had been brave enough to face her. But no, she had only learned of the wedding from her mother half an hour before the ceremony, and she had then been shipped off immediately.

  She thought back on the ceremony with anger. What an irony that she had been married in the Temple of Isis, the goddess of fertility, with Darcymose’s familial priest presiding…and no sign of a bridegroom. Again. While the priest was praying for her to be blessed with many children, she was praying that Darcymose might greet his god of death, Anubis, before meeting her.

  When she arrived at Pemberlium, she was stunned to learn that her husband had returned and was awaiting her in their quarters.

  “You!” Elibeth hissed, reeling with shock upon seeing her new husband, for this was a man she had first met nearly three years earlier, at her second husband’s home. At that time, he had been introduced to her as a friend of the family.

  Darcymose stood and tried to wrap his arms around her waist in greeting, but she pushed him away. “Why did you use the name of ‘Wenamun’ and not Darcymose when we first met?” she demanded.

  “Wenamun was my mother’s surname.” Darcymose said. “My father had just passed away, at that time. I did not want women fawning over me.”

  She thought back at the grim countenance he had often shown at that time, and felt a tinge of sympathy. “I did not know,” she said. “I am sorry.”

  He pulled her with him, urging her to sit on the edge of the bed, and she allowed him to do so.

  “But why did you marry me?” she asked in bewilderment. “Did you not say, back then, that my maidenhead might not be breakable because I was cursed? That, since my first husband had died before he could have a taste of my lips, the same would probably come true for my second husband, as well?”

  He held her hands and rubbed them gently. Gazing down at her, he said, “I fell in love with you then. Of course I wished your second husband dead.”

  A shiver ran through Elibeth’s body. “How could you fall in love with me? We only dined and talked together a few times.”

  “We danced once, as well.”

  His fingers left her palms and smoothed their way up her arms. She felt a warm current flowing through her body. “But that was three years ago.”

  “I had to allow a respectable amount of time to pass before I claimed you. I did not want your previous family to think we had formed an attachment back then. They would complain to the vizier and complicate the matter. But I have been keeping a close eye on your family. Had your mother wanted to marry you off sooner, I would have initiated my plan immediately.” His hands reached her shoulders, and he used his thumbs to make circular motions at the base of her neck.

  “I did not wish to marry again.” She trembled, feeling the coarse texture of his thumbs and breathing in his musky scent. “What if I fight you?”

  He remembered their last encounter. She had just heard about the death of her husband, and had seemed extremely relieved to know that she would soon be leaving that family. He recalled that, after drinking a few glasses of wine at dinner, her face had turned a lovely shade of pink.

  He had rejoiced in the news for he known her husband was a violent ma
n and that she would soon be freed, and so he himself had consumed a bit more than he should, as well. When he met her in the garden later that night, he could not suppress his ardent feelings, and kissed her passionately.

  Taken by surprised, she had tried to struggle at first, but his lips soon persuaded her. By the time he parted her tunic and suckled her nipples, she was lost in the moment. She enjoyed his magical tongue and lips, feeling a pulse pounding between her thighs.

  Only when he pushed his hands under her clothes and cupped her womanhood did sanity returned to her. She would not cheat on her husband on the day of his death, no matter how strongly she was attracted to this handsome man. And so she pushed him away.

  He stood back at once, but extended his hand to touch her creamy mounds one last time. She, however, would have none of it, and slapped his face before running out of the garden.

  Thinking back now on her temper and the fiery glint in her eyes, he was eager to provoke her passions once again. “You are welcome to fight me,” he teased. Putting a hand on her shoulder, he grasped the front of her dress and tugged one side of it open. “But in bed only.”

  She gasped and raised her hand to strike him.

  Anticipating her response, he caught her hand and lowered his head to kiss her wrist. Then he traced his lips down her arm and then across her breast until he reached her exposed nipple.

  When he used his lips to pull her nipple taut, then wet the tight-gathered tip with his tongue, all strength left her body, and she subsided onto the bed.

  He followed her lush body down and pushed the other side of the dress off her shoulder, baring her white alabaster breasts to his burning gaze. With three years of longing and ardency to fuel him, he devoured her creamy mounds, licking, suckling and squeezing them.

  As his mad ministrations continued, the temperature in her body grew. She had never known such passion before. She tore at his hair, pressing him to her chest, then thrashed her head from side to side in sensual torment. She loved his torturing kisses but she wanted more, so much more...