Mr. Darcy took a soothing sip of port, then rested his head on the settee in his bedroom.
This, he thought with satisfaction, was a tremendously important day. His second proposal had met with success. Finally, he had won the heart of his beloved. He felt wonderful, not feel tired at all, and he wanted to savor every remaining moment of the day.
The return of Mr. Darcy with his new fiancée in his arm to the house had been met with an array of raised eyebrows and loud exclamations. After explaining about Elizabeth’s injured ankle, the couple had retired to their separate bedchambers for some rest.
It transpired that Elizabeth’s ankle was not seriously hurt, and she was able to walk almost normally soon afterwards after being tended to by the doctor. They spent the afternoon and dinner in a pleasant manner. He was not a man of many words in front of people. His thoughts were focused on the scorching kisses that he and Elizabeth had shared in the maze. His eyes were filled with phantom visions of Elizabeth, bedecked in simple, elegant dresses, gracing the rooms of Pemberley. In the present moment, he was quite content to simply rest his gaze upon Elizabeth, thinking all manner of pleasant thoughts about her and about their future together.
The only sour turn of the day was the unexpected intrusion, before dinner, of Mr. and Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley. The travellers said they were on their way to visit friends in the next county, but that their carriage had broken down not far from Pemberley. Mr. Darcy had no decent choice but to offer to host them for a day or two, until their carriage could be repaired.
Miss Bingley was exceptionally polite to his invited guests, which he thought a bit strange, as she had previously been most uncivil to Elizabeth. He was also suspicious of their arrival. It was too much of a coincidence. But he would not allow them to distract him from his pleasure.
He had even taken the time, before preparing to retire, to visit the connecting bedroom. He unlocked all the doors, drew aside the curtain and looked around the mistress’s room. He opened the cupboards and drawers, and imagined visiting Elizabeth there when she was finally his wife. It was a happy thought indeed.
Now, as the day drew to a close, Mr. Darcy took another sip of the port and turned his mind to their future, then started, his eyes widening with surprise, as he saw the connecting door to the mistress’ bedchamber begin to open.
She had bent her wits to listening to the servants and questioning Miss Darcy in the most cunning way, both before and after dinner, determined to carry out her plan: she wanted Mr. Darcy to be hers tonight, not a moment later.
Having obtained the necessary intelligence about his routine, she found it rather easy to find her way, and was relieved not to have to go to him via the servant’s entrance, for she found that the door of the mistress’s room was not locked. The curtain was drawn aside, granting her a glimpse of the interior. A dreamy smile spread on her face. Walking to the connecting door, she turned the knob and slowly pushed open the door, where Mr. Darcy looked gratifyingly astonished by her visit.
“Elizabeth! What are you doing here?” He sat up quickly, nearly spilling the port from his glass Elizabeth locked the door behind her and stopped there, gazing at him. She was wearing a simple day dress in yellow, but the décolleté was daring. Her breathing was quick and shallow, from the adventure of seeking him out, and from seeing him without his coat and cravat. His shirt gapped open, allowing her a glimpse of his virile chest. He was still in his tight breeches, resting comfortably on the settee by the fire, with legs apart. She could not help but stall a glance at his bulge, although she diverted her gaze away immediately from the impressive sight.
Softly, she whispered, “Fitzwilliam, make me yours.”
She saw him frown, as if he had not heard – or did not understand – what she had just said. The room was nearly silent for a moment, with only the crackle of the fire as counterpoint to their heavy breathing.
Mr. Darcy put the glass down, then stood, and walked slowly over to her. Placing his hands lightly on her shoulders, he asked softly, “Elizabeth, have you thought clearly about this?”
She shivered from the potent contact of his touch. He was too tall, too big. Shaken, she took his hand and led him back to the settee, pushing him to sit down again. Standing in front of him, she took a deep breath and said, “I have been thinking about this for months. One can be so full of life and laughter one minute…and then, unexpectedly, one be gone, in the blink of an eye. Fitzwilliam, I love you. I want to be with you. Even if you had not proposed to me, this morning. Even if you had not offered me any position in your life. I have been determined about this for quite a long time. I want to be yours. Now.”
Mr. Darcy inhaled, breathing in her sweet lavender scent, then closed his eyes, overwhelmed by a multitude of emotions. He could scarcely believe what he had just heard. She has loved me all these past months. She loves me enough to abandon propriety and her reputation. She was even willing to be mine without the offer of marriage or any other proper arrangement to protect herself.
“Fitzwilliam? Are you unwell? Did you…? Do you not want me?”
The uncertainty in her voice aroused him from his thoughts. Opened his eyes, he pulled her onto his lap and embraced her, then released her just as suddenly, gazing deeply into her eyes. “Do I not want you? My dearest Elizabeth, I have wanted you for so very long that I can scarcely believe my good fortune. Nothing will please me more than to be united with you, joining our bodies and souls together. We are already betrothed, as far as I am concerned. It shall not be long before we are truly husband and wife.”
“But I want to be yours now.”
He heard her reply, yet he was still unsure what to do, as he struggled between remaining a gentleman or abandoning all principles by seizing the moment.
“Your father…” He started to say. But when she slipped her hands inside his opened shirt and caressed his chest, he was lost completely. Her tentative fingers were burning matches that torched his body, searing him not with pain but with passion and pleasure.
He enfolded her body again and kissed her with all the pent-up ardour of the past year. Ravenous, he wetted her lips and teased her mouth open with his tongue, thrusting inside her syrupy entrance to trace her inner muscles and duel with her soft tongue. Unable to resist, he sucked at it, drawing her tongue into his mouth.
His hands traced her daring neckline. When his knuckles grazed her soft flesh, he felt her shiver with desire. After a few long minutes of petting and caressing every inch of exposed flesh that he could reach, he unbuttoned her dress and eased it off her shoulders. She, in turn, helped him with it impatiently, baring her bosom for his exploration.
At that, he stopped his kisses and pushed her slightly away from him. His gaze focused on her gorgeous breasts, drinking in the deep red aureoles. He found that he accurately remembered every curve of her body from their previous encounters. Lowering his mouth, he surrendered to his need, licking and kissing her bosom with an intensity that seemed to make her lose all coherent thought as well, as his lips suckled her breast. He drew a nipple into his mouth, brushing it with his teeth, and heard her gasp with delight. Then he used his tongue to twirl around it, wetting, lapping, tasting her.
Meanwhile, his hands were busy with other parts of her body. His left hand cupped her other breast while he gently pinched its nipple; at the same time, with a daring that left him light-headed, the fingers of his right hand stroked her inner thighs. He was painfully aroused, his straining manhood heated against her bottom, making her squirm on his lap.
It was too much for him. He pushed her to stand up and pulled the dress further down. It dropped to the floor and pooled around her feet. He devoured her naked upper body with his eyes before lowering them to take in her alluring undergarment, which still concealed her treasure from his prying eyes.
Driven by need, he stood up as well, swept her up, carried her the few necessary steps, then gently placed her on his bed. Elizabeth, on his bed. His senses reeled.
She did not cover her body but lay there, her glittering, fine eyes looking up at him trustingly. Urgently, he stripped off his shirt and pushed down the confining fabric of his breeches.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the sight of his muscular, nude body, and he saw her swallow hard, for the first time since entering his rooms. She did not seem to be afraid of him, and she made no attempt to rise, but he could see her apprehension at viewing his naked manhood in its present magnified state.
He lay down by her side, gently pushing a few strands of her dishevelled hair away from her face. “Dearest Elizabeth,” he murmured, kissing her forehead and then the tip of her nose. “Tell what you are thinking.”
She swallowed again before replying, “You are so… magnificent. I am worried… I do not know how... Fitzwilliam, I am concerned that I will not be able to satisfy you.”
“Elizabeth, my love, I know you are an innocent maiden. This is not just about me being satisfied. It is about you having pleasure as well.” He lowered his mouth and kissed her soft lips. "Trust me, my love. Let me show you. "
When she nodded her consent, he began in earnest, restraining his ardour and exploring her body with tenderness. When he smoothed her undergarment and stockings away, his kisses followed his hands, tracing lower and lower.
Elizabeth thrashed and arched her body.
When he parted her legs and bestowed kiss after kiss on her secret Eden, her moans became louder and more uninhibited, as if she were purely a creature of the senses, no longer able to think, only feel. Mr. Darcy continued to ravish her body, wooing the hot lava from deep within her. When she reached the peak of her pleasure, she actually screamed aloud, clearly overcome.
At that signal, he quickly raised his body and lodged his raging manhood against her wet entrance, pressing into her with slow insistence. She was extremely tight, but the abundance of her body's natural moisture allowed him a smooth entry into her inner core. His thick shaft delved slowly upward until he reached her virginal barrier. At that, he stopped his movements, but only for a moment, as he gazed down at her flushed face. Then, braced on knees and elbows, he returned his hands to her twin peaks, pinching and pleasuring the peaked nipples while he pressed his tongue into her mouth. After a few minutes invested in arousing her again, he felt her body stir beneath him with returning excitement. At that, he braced himself and thrust strongly into her. The sensation that rewarded this effort left him barely coherent, caught up in a rush of intense pleasure as the obstruction yielded, enabling him to become deeply engulfed within her. His final clear thought was, she is mine, finally and completely mine!
Elizabeth cried out in pain but he muffled her shriek with kisses as he continued to thrust inward with slow, determined force, driving ever closer to her core, until at least they were joined tightly together.
He savored that moment of complete physical union, as her tight muscles clenched around him. Elizabeth trembled and panted beneath him, but he knew that their intimate ritual had just begun. He started the rhythm of mating, slowly at first, gliding back and then pressing into her inexorably, again and again and yet again.
Finally, under his ardent tutelage, Elizabeth began to imitate his movements, and the two of them jointly thrust and parted in harmony. Her hands stirred, rising to caress his strong back. Then, as his pace increased, she dug her fingers into his bottom and parted her legs wider, allowing him to thrust into her more easily. After endless minutes of delight, his hands abandoned her lovely breasts and slid beneath her to cup her pert derriere. He lifted her hips to meet him, thrust after invigorated thrust. Their sweaty bodies grew ever hotter and more flustered. Mr. Darcy concentrated on protracting their frantic union until Elizabeth reached her second peak, with a deafening scream. Her trembling muscles contracted, squeezing the length of his striving manhood with irresistible intensity. His control frayed, and he plunged forward, pounding into her in a few last, desperate strokes before reaching his own climax and filling her core with his precious, burning seed.
When they both had finally calmed and caught their breath, he rolled over to the side, not wanting to crush her. Then he pulled her into the tenderest of embraces, with her head cradled on his shoulder, their legs tangled together.
“Elizabeth, my dearest love, I have some surprising news for you. You were too distracting for me just now to reveal it."
"What is it, Fitzwilliam?"
"I have already obtained your father’s permission to marry you, my love.”
“What? How can that be? We only became engaged this morning!”
“In the afternoon, I sought a private meeting with your uncle and informed him that you had accepted my suit. He surprised me by saying that he had been in communication with your father, these past months, about my… my interest in you during your stay in London, and he also told your father about my assistance to your whole family. It seems that your father found that your recent dispirited countenance rather disheartening, and so he agreed to your traveling here with your aunt and uncle. Your father and uncle had already discussed the possibility that I would ask for your hand in marriage, and so they arranged for your uncle to be able to give his consent and approval, with your father's prior permission.”
“I did not know that Papa was so eager to marry me off,” she said, with a shy laugh.
“I was encouraged by your uncle’s replies, and so I determined that I would seek their consent to marry as soon as possible. I asked if your father had decreed how long the engagement must be, for I wished to marry as soon as you agreed. In fact, now that I have both your consent and your father’s. I would dearly like for us to marry in two weeks.”
“So soon?”
“Elizabeth, my love, I cannot bear to part with you any longer. I have suffered and missed you terribly, these past six months.”
“What did my uncle say?”
“That he and your father had already anticipated the question, and that he could have the Longbourn church ready at any time that pleased you. As you well know, your father takes much delight in being a student of human nature, and he told your uncle that I would most likely prove to be a very impatient man.”
For a moment, Elizabeth blushed and tried to retain her composure. Then she abandoned the effort, and the laughed out together regarding this remark of Mr. Bennet’s.
“Yes, we are both very impatient,” she conceded.
Darcy caressed Elizabeth’s body and rested his hand on her abdomen. “We may as well be, since we have just anticipated our public marriage vows. Even though, privately, I have always considered you my wife, we may already have conceived a child just now, so what say you, my love? We could announce our engagement tomorrow and travel back to Longbourn in the next few days. Would that meet with your approval?”
She smiled and nodded her head in agreement, then slowly closed her eyes. It had been an exhausting and yet an exhilarating day for them both. He could sense her weariness, so he positioned her to lie close against him, then whispered sweet, loving words to her ears alone. Finally, content with the world, they drifted off to a peaceful sleep together.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the house, Miss Caroline Bingley was busy preparing for a most specific ritual. The last few weeks had been extremely busy but fruitful. At the beginning of summer, she had been most unhappy when, due to health concerns, Mr. Darcy cancelled his invitation to her brother to spend time at Pemberley. She had gone to his townhouse in London, on the pretense of visiting Miss Darcy but hoping, in truth, to see the elusive man while she was there. Her attempt, however, had been unsuccessful. He did not receive any visitors. Then, not long ago, she had been alarmed to learn that her brother had decided to return to Netherfield. Although she tried earnestly to dissuade him, she had failed in that plan, as well. He had been uncharacteristically tight-lipped about the journey, saying only that he wanted to tidy up some loose ends concerning the estate and perhaps also do some hunting.
But she was an intelligent woman. She instructed one of the servants to inform her about the goings-on in Hertfordshire. She soon learned that her foolish brother had renewed his address to Miss Bennet, and that he had, in fact, been instrumental in sabotaging Caroline's grand plan to ensnare Mr. Darcy in marriage for herself. Charles even helped to pass on a letter from the Darcys to invite that country chit, Eliza, to visit Pemberley.
Miss Bingley had been so enraged by this news that she smashed a flower vase in the morning room, upon reading that particular piece of intelligence. She was furious with both her brother and Mr. Darcy. Who is this country upstart? My Mr. Darcy must be blind and mad to be entrapped by that impertinent nobody. She has no beauty, no wit, no manners. Her family is a shameful association. They have no connections or social status. I will find a way to make Mr. Darcy see the wisdom of having me as the mistress of Pemberley!
Just when Caroline was practically tearing her hair out as to what to do, she had happened to overhear one of the maids talking about an all-powerful witch who could cure people of illness or capture any woman’s heart's desire. She became obsessed with finding that witch and, at whatever cost, obtaining her secret assistance.
So decided, she had traveled a great distance to consult the ugly old witch, in a rather disgusting village. But the secret information she obtained from this witch were well worth the journey and the price. With careful planning, she had finally succeeded in installing herself at Pemberley, at least for a few days, at the same time as Miss Eliza. Now that she was inside the grand estate, in possession of a double package of witchcrafts, she exulted in the knowledge that she was only moments away from permanently curing Mr. Darcy of his obsession with the worthless hussy.
When midnight arrived, she spread out her precious packages on the desk. The first package contained a cloth doll and several pins. Caroline next produced a fallen hair of Miss Eliza’s which she had prudently obtained during dinner, and wrapped it around the neck of the doll. Consulting the instructions on the paper given to her by the old witch, she began her chant.
She repeated it thrice: “Almighty Devil of Hell, bless me with the darkest power of evil!” Then she stuck pins into the breasts and the apex between the thighs of the doll and continued.
“Almighty Devil of Hell, bless me with the darkest power of evil! Turn this woman into a harlot! Make her wanton and compel her to pounce upon the first man she sees!”
After she completed the ritual, Caroline tidied away the evidence and reclined on her bed with a wicked smile on her face. She had not know what witchcraft she wished to obtain at first. She had simply told the witch that she wanted her rival to suffer the worst possible fate. The witch had suggested this particular evil spell, explaining that the wanton effect would only last for a few hours, or until her rival was satisfied by a man – or even more than one man.
Caroline’s eyes had sparkled upon hearing the nature of the curse. Miss Eliza would be forever ruined, not just in the eyes of Mr. Darcy but in all of society. She imagined Miss Eliza waking up, wanton, with desire coursing through her body, dashing out of her room and tearing her clothes off in front of the first footman, manservant or gardener she came across.
Vastly entertained by the image, Caroline closed her eyes and drifted into a more peaceful sleep than she had enjoyed for a long while.
In the master's bedchamber, Elizabeth awoke to a sudden warm sensation in her body. She did not know where she was at first. Then she saw Mr. Darcy’s head on her naked bosom. Again! At last, she remembered that they had finally become one flesh.
As she remembered their first coupling, just a few hours ago, her face turned crimson. The marriage bed was very different from anything she had ever imagined or heard. Darcy’s love was virile, potent and endearing. She smiled dreamily. Perhaps the memories of our union are having an effect on me, she mused. I feel as if my blood is rioting around inside my body, especially around my breasts and between my legs. I feel hot. She squirmed restlessly. Hot and… lustful.
She saw that Mr. Darcy was still asleep, but she needed him again, needed him urgently, without delay. Lifting one of his hands, she rubbed it hesitantly over her nipple…
It felt wonderful. His long, lean fingers grazed her sensitive nipple, enticing it to life. But she wanted more. She wanted him inside her again.
With a whimper of need, she parted her legs and rubbed herself up and down against his thighs.
Darcy startled awake at the movements against his legs. “Elizabeth, my love, what are you doing?” He raised himself and leaned on an elbow to look at her.
“I feel hot… here!” She moved his hand down to cup her womanhood. Her voice trembled, and her heart felt as if it were racing. She thought she would burst if he did not take pity and fulfill her needs now. “I woke up with a sudden warm sensation in my body, and now I feel extremely wanton. Fitzwilliam, I want you!” With a flirtatious smile, she pushed him to lie on his back, then climbed on top of him. Bending, she kissed him frantically, on the mouth, the jaw, the pulse that beat at his throat, then downward to his shoulders and chest. Straddling him more broadly, she rubbed her secret lips against his firming manhood. She uttered soft moans, and whispered incoherently as she kissed him, telling him how she loved every part of his body and how he made her feel, so very wanton and lustful.
Mr. Darcy noticed that her eyes looked dazed and unfocused, as if she were caught up in some kind of a dream, her body felt feverish against his. “Did you catch a cold this morning, my love? You are burning up!” Concerned, he wanted to press her back down on the bed so that he could fetch a doctor, and yet, with each passing moment, he was more helplessly aroused. His manhood sprang up, tall and proud, and Mr. Darcy could not deny that he was vastly enjoying the unexpected attentions Elizabeth bestowed. She continued to kiss him wildly as she tried to position herself to take his massive shaft into her. But she was still very new to the art of lovemaking, and clearly did not know how to do so.
She cried out in frustration, “Fitzwilliam, help me! I need you. Please, come inside me! I feel as if I am on fire!”
At first, he was deeply worried, but her amorous ministrations were soon too much for him to resist; he could not resist giving in to her demand. He pressed her back on the bed and entered her with one almighty thrust. Her body shook with the force of his entry, but she never wavered. Rather, she wrapped her legs around his waist and continued, hungrily, violently, to kiss him. Spurred by her ardent reaction, and urged on by her touch, he pounded into her more and more quickly, on and on, until she cried out with satisfaction. Her convulsing muscles squeezed his manhood tightly, sending him into a vortex of bliss. He howled and spilled his seed into her as he reached a powerful climax.
From midnight until dawn, Elizabeth refused to sleep. She was, by turns, flirty, wanton and wild with lustful needs, and he satisfied her many times, in different positions, before she finally felt the blood cease to rioting in her body. When dawn came, Darcy gently carried her back into her own bedchamber, speaking softly to her, reassuring her of his love and promising that he would care for her, not letting anything or anyone harm her. He waited by her side, sated and devoted, until she finally fell into a deep sleep.
He was, of course, still puzzled, for he knew that she had been behaving very strangely. She might yet be sick, although she no longer seemed feverish. He decided, with a belated pang of conscience, to ask Mrs. Gardiner to look after her while he sent for the doctor.
When he went in search of the Gardiners, he heard Miss Bingley giggling with her sister, around the bend of the corridor. He was ready to retreat to avoid the pair, but he froze when he heard the words being spoken in her muffled voice. “…witch gave me a special doll…make the upstart wanton…pounce on the first man she sees…will be scandalous …until she is satisfied by the man or after a few painful hours …indeed!”
Darcy crept closer, intent on catching each vicious syllable.
“…reputation will be ruined…cannot wait to see the results…going to love seeing her complete humiliation! Mr. Darcy will be freed from his obsession with that impertinent hussy…he will see that I am the perfect mistress for Pemberley!” At that, Caroline cackled, sounding as if she herself were a witch!
Mr. Darcy, furious, wanted nothing more than to confront her and berate her for her shameful behaviour, but he realised that he did not have the luxury of doing so, for he had left his beloved alone. It was his duty to watch over her until he was sure that the last effects of the witchcraft were gone. Immediately, he returned to her bedchamber, summoned a startled maid, and requested that she bring Mrs. Gardiner to him.
He would explain only that he had overhead Miss Bingley confessing to having perpetrated some kind of evil black magic on Elizabeth, and explain that his concerns over his fiancée’s health had forced him to disregard propriety and check on her, thus accounting for his presence in her bedchamber.
Even after Mrs. Gardiner’s arrival, he insisted on waiting with her for Elizabeth to wake up, schooling himself to wait for the grim pleasure of confronting the villain.
An hour later, Elizabeth finally woke up. She did not feel the wanton, lustful sensation anymore, but her body ached in any number of unaccustomed places. She greeted her aunt with a sheepish look, and looked upon her beloved with a shy and shamed expression.
Mr. Darcy, breathing out a sign of relief, asked for permission to speak with her alone for a moment. When Mrs. Gardiner moved out of hearing distance, he confided to Elizabeth what he had overhead from Miss Bingley. She was horrified, but he reassured her that he was not shocked by her wanton behaviour, for he knew her to have been under some kind of evil spell or curse. He also told her, with a gleam in his eye, that he had enjoyed their night together very much. He loved her still, as ardently as ever, and they would be married in two weeks, as they had previously discussed.
Next, Darcy reassured himself that Mrs. Gardiner would not, under any circumstance, leave Elizabeth alone. He then took his leave, prepared to forcefully evict the unwanted guests from Pemberley.