by G Scott Gray
“What do you mean?” she said with a lick of her lips.
“I mean that the people who furnish your undergarments appear to have made a mistake. They have sent you garments which are for a much shorter woman. Why, you can almost see your womanly mysteries when it rides up a couple of inches. Please do not wear it again.”
Mrs Collins sighed. Her womanly mysteries had received no attention (not even a couple of inches) for some time. She left the bed chamber and returned wearing a garment of stark, itchy hessian which came down to her ankles. That night she dreamed of tall chimneys belching white smoke, long ships sailing into a harbour fringed with bushy woodland and of mechanical engines with pistons driving back and forth into well oiled cylinders. She thought her husband might awake refreshed, take her in his arms and make love to her, ripping off her hessian nightdress, or at least lift it up above her stomach. When she reached out to touch him however, he was not there.
She went downstairs. She thought it most likely that he was in his study and so it proved. He sat in a high backed chair, reading.
“Good morning, William,” she said. “I was hoping you would like to spend a little time in bed with me this morning.”
“Whatever for, Mrs Collins?” he said.
“Well, I just thought you might like to favour me.”
“What do you mean?” he said.
“I mean perform your marital duties as a husband.”
“Oh, I see. Well to speak the truth, Mrs Collins, I am rather busy at the moment. You see I must present a sermon on Sunday and I am preparing some notes with reference to this book. It teaches of the dangers of pleasures of the flesh. You know, drinking, smoking, playing cards, and other things.”
At that moment, Mrs Collins would have given anything for a brief half hour of those ‘other things’ with her husband or any man who might be available and wiling to ease her frustrations. She left her husband to his book and his sermon and sat beside the window, looking sadly at the fields, recently harvested. She saw a man coming down the path towards the house and went to the front door to see what might be his business with her or her husband.
“Hullo, Missus,” he said with a little tip of his hat.
“What can I do for you?”
“I have a letter for you. It’s addressed to Mr and Mrs Collins.”
“Thank you.”
She gave the man a tip and opened the letter. She ran to the study happily.
“William,” she said, “I have wonderful news. We have been invited to a party.”
“A party?” he said. “What kind of party?”
She knew that he would not attend a Halloween party, thinking it a celebration of pagan superstitions and liable to be accompanied by the drinking of strong liquor and other activities of dubious morality.
“It’s first of November. It’s for All Hallows day,” she said quickly.
“For All Saints day?” he said. “How wonderful. We can spend the day reading passages from the Good Book and singing hymns and discussing the message of my latest sermon. Then we can enjoy a virtuous repast of bread and water, perhaps with a little gruel. Doesn’t that sound splendid?”
“It does indeed, my dear. The only thing is,” she lied, “that we will probably have to arrive the day before as it is such a long distance to Pemberley, even in our coach, and we will be too weary otherwise to enjoy the Good Book or the hymns. It means we will be there on 31st October.”
“You mean,” said Mr Collins aghast, “that we will need to spend Halloween there? Spend the unholiest night of the year at Pemberley when witches, warlocks and the minions of Lucifer are abroad?”
“Yes.”
“Then I fear we should decline the invitation.”
“And miss a stimulating discussion on the message of your sermon? And miss the bread and water and thin gruel?”
Mr Collins thought this over.
“Perhaps you’re right, Mrs Collins. Perhaps we could go and spend Halloween alone in our bed chamber at Pemberley.”
“Spend the entire day in our bed chamber?” said Mrs Collin breathlessly. “Why, William, that sounds wonderful. We could stay in bed and enjoy each other’s company. Perhaps twice and again in the morning.”
“It would be the perfect opportunity to study the Bible together. Like we did on our honeymoon when we read not only the Book of Kings but also the Book of Numbers. Do you remember?”
“Oh yes,” she said sadly, “I remember.”
“Good, then it’s agreed. We will accept the kind invitation and travel to Pemberley and arrive the day of All Hallows Eve.”
“You mean Halloween?” she said.
“That’s what I said.”
“Now, I’m hungry. Would you like a little breakfast?”
“Of course, my dear. I will join you in the dining room as soon as I have finished writing the opening sentence of my sermon.”
She went directly to the dining room. She waited half an hour for Mr Collins and eventually ate breakfast alone. Still, it was a good breakfast. She ate a plateful of sausages and some breadsticks.
As she ate, a plan began to form in her mind. A plan which would ensure a way in which she could have her womanly needs fulfilled, several times if possible. A plan which might involve someone other than Mr Collins. A plan which might require the services of Mr Darcy or Mr Wickham. The Halloween party was the perfect opportunity to put her plans into action.
By the time her husband had completed the opening sentence of his sermon she had completed her plan. They ate lunch together during which Mr Collins read and re-read the opening sentence. Mrs Collins did not say anything but did not mind. She was looking forward to the Halloween party and the opportunities which it might afford. She did not even mind when he cancelled supper in order to work on the second sentence.
Charles and Jane Bingley received their invitation while they took hot chocolate together in drawing room. They looked at each other and with an agreeable smile sipped their chocolate.
“A party? At Halloween?” said Jane. “How very agreeable.”
“Yes,” agreed Charles, “most agreeable.”
“Mr Darcy has invited us,” said Jane. “How generous of him.”
“Yes,” agreed Charles, “he’s very generous.”
“It’s at Pemberley,” said Jane. “I like Pemberley, it’s a splendid estate.”
“Yes,” agreed Charles, “a very splendid estate.”
“So,” said Jane, “shall we go?”
“What do you think?” said Charles.
“I think we should go.”
“I think we should go too,” said Charles.
“Good,” said Jane.
“Good,” agreed Charles.
At the same time Charles’ sister Caroline was in bed with Kitty Bennet. They had made love and were now lying next to each other in the glow of their recent intimacy. They talked happily and touched each other from time to time. Kitty would stroke Caroline’s breast and Caroline would put her hand softly on Kitty’s thighs.
There was a knock on the door of their shared cottage. Kitty got out of bed, threw on a robe and went downstairs. She returned to the bed chamber with a letter.
“It’s addressed to you, Caroline,” she said.
“To me?” said Caroline.
“Of course. Nobody knows officially that I live here with you.”
“That’s true. What did the man who brought the letter say?”
“He gave me an odd look. Especially when he saw that I was dressed only in a robe in the middle of the morning.”
Caroline laughed. Kitty handed her the letter. She opened the seal and read the contents.
“It’s from my brother Charles,” she said. “He says Mr Darcy has invited he and Jane to a party at Halloween. He asks if I would like to accompany them.”
Kitty’s face fell.
“Oh,” she said, “are you going to go?”
“He says that I may bring anybody I choose as my companion. Any
body I choose. For example, he says, a young lady with whom you are close. And he says he is sure Darcy wouldn’t mind if they were to share a bed chamber at Pemberley.”
“Charles said that?” said Kitty.
“Yes.”
“Well, perhaps he’s not as dim witted as I thought.”
Uncle Gardiner was delighted when he and his wife received their invitation. She was looking forward to seeing the rest of the family, she said. He was looking forward to spending time in Darcy’s wine cellar, he said.
The last to receive their invitation were Mr and Mrs Bennet.
“I am not sure my poor nerves could stand spending time with so many people at Halloween, Mr Bennet. There will be, no doubt, stories concerning ghosts and creatures of the night. I really do not see how my poor nerves would bear it.”
“There is always plenty of good food at Mr Darcy’s gatherings, my dear,” said Mr Bennet.
“Then we’ll go,” said Mrs Bennet.
“What about the ghosts and creatures of the night?”
“Just superstitious nonsense,” she said. “I hope the larder is well stocked.”
“Very good, Mrs Bennet,” said Mr Bennet.
“Now, we will of course be taking Mary with us.”
“And Kitty,” said Mr Bennet.
“How do you know that we will be taking Kitty? She’s never here.”
“Will Caroline Bingley be there?”
“According to Lizzy’s note which came with the invitation, Mr Bingley and Jane will be there, together with his sister Caroline.”
“Then Kitty will be there too,” said Mr Bennet firmly.
“Are you sure, Mr Bennet?” said his wife doubtfully.
“Trust me, Mrs Bennet, Kitty will be there.”
A few weeks later the guests made their way to Pemberley, by carriage or coach. The roads and tracks were bumpy, and the carriages had poor suspension but for some reason Kitty and Caroline, seated beside each other on a hard wooden bench, did not seem to mind. Mrs Bennet grumbled the entire journey and her husband did his best to placate her.
Mr Collins asked his wife if she would mind giving him her opinion of his sermon. Mrs Collins feigned sleep.
Jane and Charles conversed at length on a variety of subjects. He agreed with everything she said.
Uncle Gardiner and his good lady were delayed somewhat as they stopped at every inn or tavern they passed.
There was a steady trickle of guests through the gates of Pemberley on the evening before Halloween. A delicious meal was served in the large dining room. Darcy sat at the end of the long table and Lizzy opposite him at the other end. The food was excellent, the wines choice and varied, the conversation interesting and enjoyable.
The evening drew to a close. The guests were tired and made their way upstairs to their bed chambers. Uncle Gardiner was thirsty and made his way downstairs to the wine cellar.
By midnight all was quiet, except in the chamber of Mr and Mrs Collins where the reverend gentleman was practising his latest sermon on his poor, patient wife. There was also noise from Wickham and Lydia’s chamber; a rhythmic squeaking of bedsprings as Wickham made vigorous love to his wife. Half an hour later Uncle Gardiner staggered from the cellar and made his way uncertainly to bed.
Darcy and Lizzy intended to make the most of Halloween and so ordered servants to knock loudly on the door of each guest the next morning in order to wake them up. Some woke more readily than others.
“What time do you call this?” said Mrs Bennet. “It is more than my poor nerves can bear.”
“My bloody head hurts,” said Uncle Gardiner. “I probably ate too much cheese last night. I need coffee. Failing that a large brandy.”
“Too much cheese?” said Aunt Gardiner. “Yes, I’m sure that’s what it was.”
“Do we have time to go through the first paragraph of my sermon again?” said Mr Collins to his wife, “I’ll only need five minutes.”
“Do we have time to make love before breakfast?” said Wickham to his wife, “I’ll only need five minutes.”
Once they had bathed and dressed, the guests gathered in the dining room where they enjoyed a hearty breakfast.
“Well, Mr Darcy,” said Jane, “what have you planned for today?”
“Well, Mrs Bingley,” said Darcy, “After breakfast we will go for a vigorous walk in the grounds, after which we will return for lunch. Then you may return to your bed chambers for an afternoon sleep. Then we will have a few Halloween games, a dance in the ballroom. Finally, dinner.”
“I don’t mind returning to our bed chamber after lunch,” said Wickham with a wiggle of his eyebrows, “but I don’t intend to sleep much.”
Mrs Collins looked around the table. She had already taken note of where her bed chamber was in relation to the other guests. She was ready to put her plan into action.
After breakfast everybody put on thick coats and mufflers and followed Darcy and Lizzy around the fine gardens of Pemberley. Jane and Bingley admired the neat and orderly landscaping and agreed that it looked splendid. Uncle Gardiner noted an outside door leading directly to the wine cellar. Mrs Collins looked longingly at a large obelisk at the top of a conical hill.
After the walk they went back in the house and after a warming cup of chocolate, returned to the dining room for lunch. They ate cold mutton and cheese together with freshly baked bread. They washed it down with delicious fruit cordials. Except Uncle Gardiner who washed it down with tankards of foaming ale and large glasses of brandy. Couples returned to their bed chambers in order to rest before the Halloween games.
“Now, my dear,” said Mr Collins, “do you think we should go through my sermon again?”
“You look a little tired, my love,” said his wife. “Perhaps you should rest first and then you can deliver your sermon on the evils of pagan celebrations. That way it will have much more moral force.”
“Excellent idea, Mrs Collins.”
“Furthermore, I will prepare you a cup of cordial, to ensure your throat is suitably lubricated so you can deliver your words with clarity.”
She had brought a pitcher of cordial from the dining room and she poured a large measure into a cup. She then added a sleeping draught secretly and handed the cup to her husband. He greedily drank the liquid in one great gulp.
“Yes,” he said with a yawn, “I think I will lie down. I will shut my eyes for a few moments.”
Within two minutes he was fast asleep and snoring soundly. Mrs Collins made one or two alterations to her attire and quietly left her bed chamber. She went to the chamber next to her own and slowly turned the handle of the door. She slowly opened the door and tiptoed in. She was both shocked and delighted as she saw Lydia removing Wickham’s tight white trousers. They had not seen her and she stood watching as Lydia knelt before her husband and eased down his linen undergarments. Mrs Collins gasped as she saw his manhood spring up, large, smooth and erect.
Wickham and Lydia turned their heads and looked at her without shame or embarrassment.
“Why, Mrs Collins,” said Wickham casually, “is there anything we can do for you?”
“Er, yes,” said Mrs Collins. “My husband is asleep and I needed some assistance in removing my shoes.”
“You need some assistance in removing your shoes?” said Lydia with amusement.
“Yes, they are a little tight.”
“Very well,” said Lydia, “lie on the bed here and I will assist you.”
“Of course,” said Mrs Collins her face red and unable to remove her eyes from Wickham’s magnificent manhood.
She lay on her back on the bed. Lydia removed her shoes with some ease. Her dress, by accident or design, had ridden up around her thighs. Wickham looked at her.
“Why, Mrs Collins,” he said, “you appear to have neglected to put on your undergarments.”
“Oh, have I?” she said. “That was careless of me.”
She pulled up her dress a little further so that Wickham was able to se
e her secret womanly place fully. He leered at her. She noted his look and parted her legs a little so he could see her glistening sex, her pink folds wet with desire.
“And where is Mr Collins?” said Lydia.
“Asleep in our bed chamber. We are next to you.”
“Is he likely to wake?”
“I think not, for I gave him a sleeping draught.”
“And what do you want of us?” said Wickham with a teasing grin.
“Well, it’s like this you see. Mr Collins is planning to give a sermon concerning the pleasures of the flesh later on.”
“Is he for or against them?” said Wickham waggishly.
“Against them,” said Mrs Collins, “most assuredly against them. And I feel that to receive the full, moral message of his words then I should understand precisely what he means by ‘pleasures of the flesh’. Twice if we have time.”
“But, Mrs Collins,” said Lydia, “I don’t understand. You are a married woman. Surely your husband has performed his husbandly duty and introduced you to the pleasures of the flesh?”
“Oh, yes, he has,” she said sadly, “but it is very infrequent and when it does take place it is very brief. And in that infrequent, short period of time, my husband tends to lack passion as well as technique. So, I thought to understand his sermon better, then I thought it would be of assistance if a man with a little more vigour would show me the ways of the flesh. With some force. And please call me Charlotte.”
“Yes,” said Wickham, “I saw you this morning looking rather wistfully at Darcy’s erection. By which I mean of course the obelisk at the top of the green hill in his fine gardens.”
“So, Charlotte,” said Lydia kindly, “is it my husband’s assistance you require.”
Charlotte nodded.
“What do you think, George? Would you be willing to assist Mrs Collins?”
She knew what his answer would be. He was a kind man who liked to help people. And he had not taken his eyes from betwixt Mrs Collins’ legs. Furthermore, his member was as hard as the teak from which the fine furniture had been made.
“Yes, I suppose I could,” he said casually.
“Perhaps you should remove your dress, Charlotte,” said Lydia.
