Pride and Prejudice (Clandestine Classics) (7 page)

“Please tell your sister I wish her a speedy recovery,” said he, bowing deeply. He turned and quickly departed, very nearly breaking out into a run.

Elizabeth stood outside the door to her sister’s bedchamber for some time after Mr Darcy disappeared. She could barely breathe and her lips still tingled from her first kiss. And what a kiss it had been. There could have been no mistaking the heat and longing in his eyes, and for a time she had thought he would take it further, had expected his hands to glide over her body, to touch her in places no other had touched before.

She raised her hand to her lips, remembering the kiss, savouring it. Would she have allowed it to go further? Every sensible instinct told her she would have been a fool to permit anything more, but her body had other ideas. Though she was well aware of the impropriety, she had to concede that yes, she would have consented to more, and she had the distinct impression she would have loved every second of it. She could not be certain if she would have been able to stop herself from doing the very thing which society told her she should not, as a lady, desire, certainly not outside the sanctity of marriage.

Chapter Nine

Elizabeth passed the chief of the night in her sister’s room. Jane was not well enough to converse, so Elizabeth sat mostly in silence, contemplating what had passed between herself and Mr Darcy. Her sister would have been scandalised if she knew about the kiss, and Elizabeth would have felt guilty for not being equally so. Now that she was no longer in his company, the entire episode felt strangely like a dream. It was too unbelievable to be real and she had to wonder if it had really happened at all.

In the morning she had the pleasure of being able to send a tolerable answer to the enquiries which she very early received from Mr Bingley by a housemaid, and some time afterwards from the two elegant ladies who waited on his sisters. In spite of this amendment, however, she requested to have a note sent to Longbourn, desiring her mother to visit Jane, and form her own judgement of her situation. The note was immediately dispatched, and its contents as quickly complied with. Mrs Bennet, accompanied by her two youngest girls, reached Netherfield soon after the family breakfast.

Had she found Jane in any apparent danger, Mrs Bennet would have been very miserable, but being satisfied on seeing her that her illness was not alarming, she had no wish of her recovering immediately, as her restoration to health would probably remove her from Netherfield. She would not listen, therefore, to her daughter’s proposal of being carried home. Neither did the apothecary, who arrived about the same time, think it at all advisable. After sitting a little while with Jane, on Miss Bingley’s appearance and invitation, the mother and three daughters all attended her into the breakfast parlour. Bingley met them with hopes that Mrs Bennet had not found Miss Bennet worse than she expected.

“Indeed I have, sir,” was her answer. “She is a great deal too ill to be moved. Mr Jones says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass a little longer on your kindness.”

“Removed!” cried Bingley. “It must not be thought of. My sister, I am sure, will not hear of her removal.”

“You may depend upon it, madam,” said Miss Bingley, with cold civility, “that Miss Bennet will receive every possible attention while she remains with us.”

Mrs Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgements.

“I am sure,” she added, “if it was not for such good friends I do not know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffers a vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world, which is always the way with her, for she has, without exception, the sweetest temper I have ever met with. I often tell my other girls they are nothing to
her
. You have a sweet room here, Mr Bingley, and a charming prospect over the gravel walk. I do not know a place in the country that is equal to Netherfield. You will not think of quitting it in a hurry, I hope, though you have but a short lease.”

“Whatever I do is done in a hurry,” replied he, “and therefore if I should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite fixed here.”

“That is exactly what I should have supposed of you,” said Elizabeth.

“You begin to comprehend me, do you?” cried he, turning towards her.

“Oh, yes—I understand you perfectly.”

“I wish I might take this for a compliment, but to be so easily seen through I am afraid is pitiful.”

“That is as it happens. It does not follow that a deep, intricate character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours.”

“Lizzy,” cried her mother, “remember where you are, and do not run on in the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home.”

“I did not know before,” continued Bingley immediately, “that you were a studier of character. It must be an amusing study.”

“Yes, but intricate characters are the
most
amusing. They have at least that advantage.”

“The country,” said Darcy, “can in general supply but a few subjects for such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society.”

Elizabeth met Mr Darcy’s gaze and held it with great difficulty. She could feel the burn in her cheeks while she looked at him, but his eyes told her he knew exactly what she was thinking. She tried to put their unexpected kiss out of her mind while she remarked, “But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them forever.”

“Yes, indeed,” cried Mrs Bennet, offended by his manner of mentioning a country neighbourhood. “I assure you there is quite as much of
that
going on in the country as in town.”

Everybody was surprised, and Darcy, after looking at her for a moment, turned silently away. Mrs Bennet, who fancied she had gained a complete victory over him, continued her triumph.

“I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the country, for my part, except the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal pleasanter, is it not, Mr Bingley?”

“When I am in the country,” he replied, “I never wish to leave it, and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either.”

“Aye—that is because you have the right disposition. But that gentleman,” looking at Darcy, “seemed to think the country was nothing at all.”

“Indeed, mamma, you are mistaken,” said Elizabeth, blushing for her mother. “You quite mistook Mr Darcy. He only meant that there was not such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in the town, which you must acknowledge to be true.”

“Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were, but as to not meeting with many people in this neighbourhood, I believe there are few neighbourhoods larger. I know we dine with four-and-twenty families.”

Nothing but concern for Elizabeth could enable Bingley to keep his countenance. His sister was less delicate, and directed her eyes towards Mr Darcy with a very expressive smile. Elizabeth, for the sake of saying something that might turn her mother’s thoughts, now asked her if Charlotte Lucas had been at Longbourn since
her
coming away.

“Yes, she called yesterday with her father. What an agreeable man Sir William is, Mr Bingley, is not he? So much the man of fashion! So genteel and easy! He has always something to say to everybody.
That
is my idea of good breeding, and those persons who fancy themselves very important, and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter.”

Elizabeth knew her mother spoke of Mr Darcy and was utterly embarrassed on his behalf. To distract her further, she asked, “Did Charlotte dine with you?”

“No, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the mince-pies. For my part, Mr Bingley, I always keep servants that can do their own work.
My
daughters are brought up very differently. But everybody is to judge for themselves, and the Lucases are a very good sort of girls, I assure you. It is a pity they are not handsome! Not that I think Charlotte so
very
plain—but then she is our particular friend.”

“She seems a very pleasant young woman.”

“Oh dear, yes, but you must own she is very plain. Lady Lucas herself has often said so, and envied me Jane’s beauty. I do not like to boast of my own child, but to be sure, Jane—one does not often see anybody better looking. It is what everybody says. I do not trust my own partiality. When she was only fifteen, there was a man at my brother Gardiner’s in town so much in love with her that my sister-in-law was sure he would make her an offer before we came away. But, however, he did not. Perhaps he thought her too young. However, he wrote some verses on her, and very pretty they were.”

“And so ended his affection,” said Elizabeth impatiently. “There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!”

“I have been used to consider poetry as the
food
of love,” said Darcy. The intensity in his eyes when he made the remark was directed solely at Elizabeth and it gave her pause.

“Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away.”

Darcy only smiled, and the general pause which ensued made Elizabeth tremble lest her mother should be exposing herself again. She longed to speak, but could think of nothing to say, and after a short silence Mrs Bennet began repeating her thanks to Mr Bingley for his kindness to Jane, with an apology for troubling him also with Lizzy. Mr Bingley was unaffectedly civil in his answer, and forced his younger sister to be civil also, and say what the occasion required. She performed her part indeed without much graciousness, but Mrs Bennet was satisfied, and soon afterwards ordered her carriage. Upon this signal, the youngest of her daughters put herself forward. The two girls had been whispering to each other during the whole visit, and the result of it was, that the youngest should tax Mr Bingley with having promised on his first coming into the country to give a ball at Netherfield.

Lydia was a stout, well-grown girl of fifteen, with a fine complexion and good-humoured countenance, a favourite with her mother, whose affection had brought her into public at an early age. She had high animal spirits, and a sort of natural self-consequence, which the attention of the officers, to whom her uncle’s good dinners, and her own easy manners recommended her, had increased into assurance. She was very equal, therefore, to address Mr Bingley on the subject of the ball, and abruptly reminded him of his promise, adding, that it would be the most shameful thing in the world if he did not keep it. His answer to this sudden attack was delightful to their mother’s ear.

“I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement, and when your sister is recovered, you shall, if you please, name the very day of the ball. But you would not wish to be dancing when she is ill.”

Lydia declared herself satisfied. “Oh, yes—it would be much better to wait till Jane was well, and by that time most likely Captain Carter would be at Meryton again. And when you have given
your
ball,” she added, “I shall insist on their giving one also. I shall tell Colonel Forster it will be quite a shame if he does not.”

Mrs Bennet and her daughters then departed, and Elizabeth returned instantly to Jane, leaving her own and her relations’ behaviour to the remarks of the two ladies and Mr Darcy. The latter, however, could not be prevailed on to join in their censure of
her
, in spite of all Miss Bingley’s witticisms on
fine eyes
. Though he knew he should not encourage his feelings towards Miss Bennet, he found himself inexplicably drawn to her. She had a sharp mind and often sharper tongue, and he yearned to know her more intimately. The kiss they had shared had lingered in his thoughts since it had occurred. Even though he knew he was wrong to want it, he wished to taste the pleasure of her mouth once again, and then quite often.

When he retired to his chamber that night she was still on his mind. He tossed and turned in bed, but sleep eluded him. As he thought of her soft lips and her big brown eyes, his cock grew hard. With a groan, he slid his hand inside the sheets and wrapped it around his engorged member. It ached with the need for release. With firm, even strokes he pleasured himself, all the while thinking of the untamed desire Elizabeth had displayed when he had kissed her. What would it be like to enter her, to move in and out of her body, her hips surrounding him, her heat engulfing him? With a gasp he increased the speed of his hand, sweeping his thumb over the tip and capturing the moisture that had beaded there. He pressed his head back into the pillow as he glided his hand over his slick member. The release that had been slowly building in his groin grew nearer and nearer until he knew there was no holding it back. An image of Elizabeth on her knees while he slid in and out of her mouth came to mind and then he lost control, his release barrelling through him quickly and powerfully, her name a low rasp on his lips as his seed shot onto his stomach in long, even bursts.

Chapter Ten

The day passed much as the day before had done. Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley had spent some hours of the morning with the invalid, who continued, though slowly, to mend, and in the evening Elizabeth joined their party in the drawing-room. The loo-table, however, did not appear. Mr Darcy was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was watching the progress of his letter and repeatedly calling off his attention by messages to his sister. Mr Hurst and Mr Bingley were at piquet, and Mrs Hurst was observing their game.

Elizabeth took up some needlework, and was sufficiently amused in attending to what passed between Darcy and his companion. The perpetual commendations of the lady, either on his handwriting, or on the evenness of his lines, or on the length of his letter, with the perfect unconcern with which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue, and was exactly in union with her opinion of each.