What if old Mr. Darcy was still alive…
“Explain to me, my love, how this great scheme of yours will work,” the woman asked huskily as she caressed the man’s hips.
“The spoiled brat and I will ride ahead. We will arrive here as planned. I shall endeavour to have all three unsuspecting men deep in their cups. Then I shall personally see to his retirement to the designated chamber and let him know that I have arranged for a sensual woman for his enjoyment. From the last experience, I know that he reacted most amorously when he was given this particular type of Scottish whisky.
“At the same time, a friend of mine will overturn a cart on the road to Meryton, thus delaying his father’s carriage for a few hours. Once his father arrives, some commotion will be created, and I shall bring the old goat in. You can scream about the drunkard bastard dragging you into a guest chamber and imposing on you.” The young man gave a sly grin. “The old man will pay a fortune to keep your mouth shut, once he happens upon you and his son in all your glory, with witnesses in tow.”
“Do I get to sample the magnificent body of Fitzwilliam Darcy?” she asked, and licked her lips eagerly.
The man pinched her nipple. “I am ten times more glorious than he. But if you want us to witness his dismal attempt to satisfy you, then go to it, by all means.” He rolled the woman over and thrust into her. “In fact, that is a fine idea. Let him spend his seed in you.” He pushed in and out with mechanical precision, while the lady moaned in high pitch. When he reached the moment of satisfaction, he did not pull out as he usually did, but spilled his fluid into her. “We will pass my child off as his, and the old goat will keep the money rolling in at our door.”
“Yes!” the woman cried. “Excellent idea!”
Caroline Bingley was extremely annoyed with herself. Whatever had prompted her to invite Jane Bennet to Netherfield, two days ago? On further thought, however, she told herself she should not be angry with herself but with that stupid girl. Who else would have ridden across three miles of open roads in heavy rain? Was her family truly so poor that they could not afford a carriage?
Indeed, it appeared to be true that the Bennets could not spare a carriage, because her sister Eliza had arrived on foot, as well, the day before. Why had she felt compelled to trudge around the countryside, all alone on muddy lanes for hours, just because her sister had a cold? Perhaps both of them have designs on Charles, Caroline thought. And it was past annoying that idiot brother of hers had invited both of them to stay until Miss Bennet recovered.
Her scheme would be hindered with two strangers in the house. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy and his father would arrive later in the day. Perhaps I should make Miss Eliza sick, as well, to ensure that she will not get in the way. Yes, that is a brilliant idea.
When Miss Elizabeth Bennet sent word that she would not join the host family for breakfast because her sister was still rather sick, Miss Bingley was seen personally taking a tray to the sick room, around noontime.
As Miss Bennet had fallen asleep, Miss Bingley stayed on to take some refreshment with Miss Eliza. She then urged her guest to drink a cup of warm tea in which she had mixed some liquor and a drop of laudanum, observed covertly with keen eyes until her guest had finished all of the drink. To her gratified amazement, Miss Eliza seemed to become both giddy and sleepy.
Miss Bingley asked Miss Eliza if she wished to retire for the day, and the latter agreed. With wobbly legs, the guest excused herself and stumbled out of her sister’s room to walk haphazardly along the corridor, freeing Miss Bingley to start down the stairs, filled with smug contentment.
In the meantime, the dazed young lady walked on until she reached a room which she thought to be hers, whereupon she pushed the door open and toppled onto the bed almost immediately. The curtain was drawn and the room was dark.
Not caring whether Eliza was well settled or not, Caroline rushed away to make preparations for her important guests. She now believed that the problem of Miss Eliza was solved. That importunate young woman would be in no condition to interfere with her scheme.
At two in the afternoon, her other guests arrived. After they were shown to their rooms and had refreshed themselves, they joined the host family in the sitting room.
“Mr. Darcy, welcome to Netherfield.” Miss Bingley batted her lashes and greeted him in her most elegant tones. “But wherever is your esteemed father?”
“Thank you, Miss Bingley. Mr. Wickham and I rode ahead of my father’s carriage. You have met my father’s godson, George Wickham?” Darcy inquired.
“Darce, it is good to have you in Netherfield. Mr. Wickham, welcome.” Charles Bingley shook their hands warmly. “What do you think of it?”
“It is of good size. The house looks fine and the countryside pretty. You did well in leasing it,” Darcy replied whole-heartedly.
The gentlemen discussed the hunting activities in Hertfordshire for some minutes.
“Charles, perhaps you would like to retreat to the study with the gentlemen. I shall let you know when the senior Mr. Darcy’s carriage arrives,” Mrs. Louisa Hurst suggested.
“Excellent!” George Wickham agreed. He clapped the back of Mr. Hurst in a friendly manner and urged the men away.
Mr. Darcy did not care to spend time with Wickham, but his father took his duty as his godfather seriously, and so he vowed to be as polite as he could.
Caroline threw her fan on the couch and said to her sister angrily, “What was that for? Why did you urge the men out of the room so soon?”
“Caroline, you must desist. Did you not see that he is not interested in you?” Louisa replied.
“I see no such thing.” Caroline retorted. “I am smart, elegant and fashionable. Why would he not be interested in me?”
Lousia shook her head and said, “I am saying this only for your good. But if you intend to capture him while he stays here, you had better go and rest now before preparing for tonight’s dinner. You have dark circles under your eyes. Perhaps the noise from the Bennet sisters gave you a restless night?”
“Do I really have black bags under the eyes? Why did you not tell me earlier? It was that impertinent country nobody, Eliza, wandering around the corridor, trying to find the library, late at night.” With that, Miss Bingley dashed out of the sitting room and retreated to her own chamber hastily, leaving her sister to shake her head once again.
Half an hour later, Mr. Darcy received a note from his father, stating that the carriage had suffered a minor accident a little distance from Meryton. His father would stretch his legs in the small town for the time being, until the carriage was sorted out. He would arrive at Netherfield in another hour.
Soon, Wickham had Mr. Darcy, Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley drunk. He left Hurst and Bingley in the study and helped the tipsy Mr. Darcy up the stairs in person, not wanting Darcy’s valet to intercept him.
When Wickham arrived at the room he had shared with his lady love, it was almost pitch dark because the curtains were drawn close. A dim light that entered through a gap between the curtains was just enough for him to make out the shape of a woman under the bed sheet. She was lying on her stomach, and her hair was loosened. She certainly knows how to stay mute, Wickham thought. She is determined not to let Fitzwilliam know who she is.
Wickham started stripping Fitzwilliam of his clothes. “I have a surprise for you,” he said to the inebriated gentleman.
“What’s…it?” Darcy hiccupped.
“A sensual woman.” Turning Darcy, he pointed to the bed.
“With gorgeous… bosom?” The dazed man chuckled.
“Possibly,” Wickham said, wondering why Darcy’s cravat had to be so complicated. “You’ll have to discover that for yourself.”
“I have not gotten…laid for some years now,” Darcy lamented. “Father keeps…me close and works me hard…ever since you last…got me into mischief…”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Wickham demanded, finally getting the shirt off the half-drunk man.
“She is …willing?” Darcy staggered forward a step.
“Very.” Wickham unbuttoned Darcy’s breeches.
Darcy hesitated, swaying. “I do not sleep with… whores.”
“Her husband is dead,” Wickham lied as he stripped the drunken man naked.
“A lonely widow?”
“A most easily aroused one.”
“She wants…money from me?” Darcy asked stubbornly, not moving.
“Not at all. She only wants affection and warmth.” Blast the spoiled brat, why did he need to ask so many questions? Damn his standards of refusing to mix with fortune hunters and lowly whores.
“But…I do not…trust you.” Darcy argued. “Are you trying to…trick me? You are always up to…no good.”
Wickham swore under his breath. He had no time for Darcy’s censure. He shoved the drunkard onto the bed, walked out the door and closed it. Let her do her job!
“Ouch!”
“Ah!”
Mr. Darcy and the woman both exclaimed as their bodies crashed onto each other.
“I beg your pardon, Madam.” He stood up and bowed awkwardly.
The woman turned over on the bed, had a look at him, laughed and asked cheerily, “Is your apology for …bumping into me or appearing without a… stitch of clothing, in my bed chamber?”
Darcy liked her sound, musical and pleasant. He smiled and looked down at himself in the muted light. “Indeed, I am in all my glory. I do not…know why.”
She sat up, brushed the wayward curls away from her eyes, and took in the sight of his strong frame with apparent curiosity. “You look like a … statue of the Greek god, Apollo,” she said, and hiccupped.
“Your bosom…rivals that of Venus.” He licked his lips and felt a sudden surge of heat rise in his body. Intending to let in some air, he walked to pull the curtains wider apart.
She cast a look at herself. Lit by the bright afternoon sun from outside, she saw that she wore no clothes, either. She remembered feeling oppressively hot, shortly after she went to the bed, scarcely able to breathe. Stifling, she had taken her dress off and then, finding little relief, had shed the rest of her garments before surrendering again to sleep. Now, abruptly awakened, she was covered by nothing but the bed sheet which was now pooled at her waist.
“Thank you, Sir, for the compliment.” She smiled, feeling giddily light-headed beneath the gaze of this handsome young man. She reclined down on the bed again and raised both hands to rub her temples. “But I am not the goddess of love, but simple Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn.”
Mr. Darcy felt the room grow hotter yet. The lovely Elizabeth was lying on the bed, with both hands on her forehead, a gesture which pushed her gorgeous breasts higher still. She had the most vivid green eyes, a very fine pair. He wanted to worship her but was not sure whether she would welcome it. He was a gentleman and would never force himself on a woman. The temptation was so great that he felt as if his head might burst at any moment.
He raised his hand to rub his own temple.
“Are you…not feeling well, Apollo?” she asked with concern.
“I am no Apollo, just Fitzwilliam Darcy…of Pemberley.”
“Perhaps you will feel better if you lie down,” she suggested, and patted the space beside her.
It was an invitation he could not refuse. He slipped in besides her, under the bed sheet.
They stared at each other silently for a minute. Then she smiled at him and raised her eyebrows. Encouraged, he stretched out his hand and touched her, drawing delicate circles around one of her nipples.
The cherry tip peaked and she gasped for air.
“You have the most … magic touch,” she murmured.
“And you are very… responsive.”
She smiled widely at his compliment. The whole-hearted grin made her look fresh and carefree, like his sister Georgiana,
Mr. Darcy thought. Elizabeth seemed too young to have been married and then widowed. But what did he really know about such things? Had his own mother not died very young, too, soon after Georgiana was born?
“How old are you?” he asked. His finger continued the exploration of her twin peaks. He loved the texture of her skin.
“Not yet one-and-twenty,” she whispered. “And you?”
“Not yet eight-and-twenty.”
“In the prime of life.” She gazed at his eyes, which were the deepest blue, like the summer sky. He seemed indeed to be a Greek god, calling out for her to touch him. Emboldened, she traced her fingers from his throat down his chest to his navel. His body was virile and perfect.
His mouth gaped open as he felt his skin burn beneath her touch. His arousal sprang up, proud and tall, making a tent of the bed sheet.
Her eyes widened at the unexpected movement. She lifted the edge of the bed sheet, took one quick glance at his magnificent manhood, and dropped the sheet immediately.
“I did not know that Apollo’s…stone could grow,” she remarked innocently.
He chuckled. “Would you like to feel the stone…expand?” He took her tiny hand, which was soft but surprisingly strong, and placed her fingers around his shaft.
“It is…” She swallowed and bit her lower lip. “It is so hot…and so smooth.”
He slid his other hand down to her apex, where he rubbed the soft bush and slid along her folds. “And you are wet and…blazing.”
She could feel the blood draining from her head, seeming to pool and pulse at her sex. The sensations at the juncture of her thighs were raging, causing her to flex her hand instinctively, squeezing his shaft hard.
He let out a cry of pure ecstasy. He knew that he would explode if he did not join with this lovely Venus.
Carefully, he removed her hand from his straining member, then turned to press his body against her. The moment their naked forms touched, they both shivered. Using his elbows to carry his weight, he positioned himself over her and lowered his head to kiss her sultry lips with passion.
When he thrust his tongue into her mouth, she sucked at it tentatively, and her sweet response nearly made him come. He pulled back immediately and lowered his lips to worship her creamy mounds instead.
They were alabaster white, soft and bouncy. He licked the skin around the nipples, then moved to the side once again and took his weight upon a single elbow in order to free one hand to shape her bountiful hips. Enchanted, he paused between each lick to tell her how beautiful she looked. In answer, she moaned in pleasure and buried her fingertips in his hair.
As he suckled her nipples soundly for several long minutes, her soul seemed to draw up and out of her body. She rolled her eyes, twisted her body and, with a final sweet convulsion, reached Heaven. The juice of climax flew out from her secret lips.
Rising over her in earnest, he nudged her thighs apart and used his hand to position his shaft. Insinuating his manhood between her nether lips, he found that she was tight, even with the sweetness of her essence. Bracing himself, he bore down, pushing slowly into her.
The sensation was unexplainable as his tip was swallowed up, a fraction of an inch at a time, by this hot volcano. Bearing down, he thrust with his rigid rod, determined to penetrate into the very heart of her core.
All the while, her inner muscles teased and squeezed and clenched, bombarding him with maddening sensation. Her body seemed to mock his ardor, refusing to yield further. Delirious with desire, he grasped her thighs and pulled them even wider apart, then plunged forward, using every bit of leverage he could muster to break through all barriers, the better to merge with her.
Beneath him, she screamed out in pain.
He froze, stunned, then raised his head as comprehension dawned upon him. “You are a maiden?” he whispered hoarsely.
Elizabeth panted and shifted beneath him, unshed tears brightening her beautiful eyes. “Yes…and I find…your stone…very hard, Apollo.”
A part of him wanted to laugh, touched by the gallant courage of her remark, but her movements were reigniting him. With his hands and mouth, he pleasured her breasts with a determined eagerness, while he exerted all his will power to hold his lower body still.
When she was once again aroused to unbearable heights, and began to twist and squirm beneath him, he withdrew himself almost to her entrance and then thrust into her again in a smooth, heated glide.
Once started, he could not stop. His pace soon grew fast, urgent and lustful. He drove into her like a stud covering a spirited mare, aiming to conquer and to please.
Sweat drenched both of their bodies. She clawed at his muscular back as he pounded into her. The slick sound of his thighs smacking against hers was accompanied by her everlouder moans. His hands and mouth were merciless, nipping and rubbing her nipples and lips, exciting her to new sensory heights.
Lost in this new world of sensual desperation, she cried out his name, “Fitzwilliam!” several times, until at last the world exploded behind her eyes in a torrent of delight, and he cried out as well, flooding her with his essence.
Finally, descending from their cosmic peak, they returned to earth. Pulling the bed sheet up to cover their satiated bodies, he embraced her tightly, and they drifted off to sleep.
Within a few minutes, however, the door was opened by George Wickham, accompanied by old Mr. Darcy. Miss Bingley was hot on their heels.
“I thought I heard Fitzwilliam here…” Wickham said, then faltered into silence as he blinked his eyes, adjusting to the unexpected brightness of the room.
Pushing past him, Miss Bingley screamed in fury. “Eliza Bennet, you shameless, penniless chit! What have you done to my Mr. Darcy?”
The disturbance woke the couple in the bed. At that moment, Louisa Hurst opened the servant’s entrance to the room, dressed in a nearly transparent nightgown, her loosened hair tumbled about her shoulders. She took one startled look at the commotion, gasped, and fled the room immediately.
Elizabeth shook her head in an attempt to clear the last lingering effects of the liquor and the drug from her body. She blinked up at the two strange men, one young, one old, who stood with Miss Bingley. Then she noticed a subtle movement by her side. A man was sleeping there, his bare body pressed intimately to hers. She was ready to scream and flee the bed…but she found that she was no longer wearing anything at all.
“What have you done to me?” she demanded of the young man holding her.
Mr. Darcy shook his head and looked up at the lovely vision besides him, remembering the incredible love making that had occurred between them just minutes before. His mind no longer seemed to be dulled by the alcohol so much. But the accusing expressions of the onlookers made him felt guilty. “I am sorry, Father. I was drunk.”
Old Mr. Darcy breathed deeply and asked Mr. Wickham and Miss Bingley to leave the room.
As Elizabeth began to remember what had happened, through the haze of cloud that still filled her head, she burst into tears, and murmured, “How could this have happened? One minute, I was drinking tea with Miss Bingley, and the next minute I felt giddy and so very drowsy. I was sleeping here, all by myself. Why did you come in? What have you done?”
“Do not cry, child,” Old Mr. Darcy said kindly. “I shall step out for just a minute. The two of you must rise and dress. I know that it is highly improper to question you here and now, but I want to get to the bottom of this, without delay.”
As soon as the old gentleman went out into the hallway, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam dressed quickly, in complete silence, without looking at each other. When Elizabeth sat down again upon the bed, he opened the door for his father.
Old Mr. Darcy began the questioning. “My name is George Darcy, and this is my son, Fitzwilliam Darcy. What is your name?”
“Elizabeth Bennet, Sir.”
“Of the Bennets of Longbourn? Amazing. I met your father this very day, while my carriage was being repaired at Meryton. Your father’s estate is quite nearby.”
Elizabeth nodded.
“You are a guest here?”
“Yes, sir. My sister Jane became ill while she was visiting Miss Bingley, two days ago. I came, yesterday, to take care of her. Mr. Bingley invited me to stay on until Jane was better.”
“And you mentioned feeling giddy and sleepy after drinking some tea?”
“Yes, actually. Jane was quite sick, this morning, so I told Miss Bingley that I would not go down for breakfast. She brought me some refreshments and tea personally around noontime. It was very kind of her, but after I drank it, I felt quite strange, and so I went to my...” She looked around uncertainly. “I did not know how I got here. This is not the guest room where I stayed, last night.”
“That is strange.” Young Darcy frowned. “Miss Bingley is not…”
“…known for her kindness,” Old Mr. Darcy completed the sentence, and shared a candid glance with his son.
“I was rather surprised, too, sir,” Elizabeth added. “Ever since Miss Bingley learned that we have little dowry, with our estate entailed away to a male cousin, and our uncle in trade and living in Cheapside, she has been… Well, in truth, sir, she has of late been rather rude to Jane and me.”
Old Mr. Darcy stepped outside again, and called for his valet to check with a maid and have the cups and cutlery used for refreshments from Miss Bennet’s room brought to him discreetly. He then returned to the silent room and turned to his son with a stern expression. “And you, son. How do you come to be here.”
“George, Charles, Hurst and I were drinking in the study while we waited for you. George had this special Scottish whisky that he insisted that we sample. I knew that I should not, but…I did. And I fear that I got drunk quite quickly, just like the last time.”
“Like the last time?” The senior frowned.
“Umh, yes. When I was around three-and-twenty. Wickham and I sampled that same brand of whisky in a tavern when we were at Cambridge.” Fitzwilliam’s face turned bright red. He had later heard that he started singing love songs and dancing on the table, wanted to kiss every one and take off his clothes. Luckily, a friend prevented him.
“Ah that incident.” Old Mr. Darcy nodded. “But how did you come to this bedchamber?”
“I cannot remember clearly. George accompanied me here. He said that…that…” Fitzwilliam stammered to a halt.
“What did he say?” his father demanded.
“He said that he had procured…” He turned to glance at the distraught young lady. “…a sensual widow for my…enjoyment.” He lowered his head, not daring to look at his father or the lovely lady.
“I am no widow!” Elizabeth gasped. “I am still a maiden.” Tears rolled down her pale cheeks again. “At least, I was, until…”
“I am sorry, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said wretchedly. “Sir, I am sorry. I should have stopped as soon as I realized that she was …untouched. But I did not.” He drew in a deep breath, expecting the harshest censure from his father…but his father appeared to be deep in thought. So he walked, instead, to kneel before Elizabeth, his eyes begging for forgiveness. “Miss Bennet, I am deeply sorry for my drunken behaviour. I have compromised you. We must marry.”
“But I do not even know you!” she replied in alarm. “What if you are…witless?”
He shook his head. “I completed Cambridge with honours.”
“Unkind?”
“I have never raised my hand or voice against a defenceless servant. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, can confirm that. She has known me since I was four.”
“A gambler?”
“My fortune is still quite intact, at six thousand so far. You may rest assured that I am not a gambler.”
She gasped at his wealth, but pressed on, for it was of no true consequence in the present burning matter. Instead, she continued. “A drunkard?”
“I shall have to prove myself to you on that score. I do not usually get drunk. But this one special Scottish whisky does appear to have a most peculiar effect upon me. I vow hereafter to stay away from it entirely.”
“But…I want to marry for love.” She wanted desperately to look away from the handsome man in front of her, but her eyes betrayed her, for they would not leave his face.
Mr. Darcy sucked in a deep breath and was about to respond when his father waved him to silence and addressed Elizabeth himself.
“That, my dear young woman, is a rather novel notion. To marry for love. As my son said, he is very rich and you do not have a dowry. Will that not change your mind about the marriage?”
She sighed deeply. “If I cannot respect the man by my side, all the money in the world will not make me happy.”
Old Mr. Darcy nodded with approval, and waved his permission for Fitzwilliam to continue to argue his case.
“Well then, Miss Bennet, you have only to tell me how to win your respect and I shall try my hardest to do so. Indeed, I have already begun to respect you quite sincerely. You did not hesitate to tell us of your ‘less fortunate’ family situation, and you pronounce yourself unwilling to marry me, even though I am quite wealthy. I find that admirable indeed.”
Elizabeth blinked in surprise. “You have no objection to my relations? I must confess, my mother and younger sisters are rather silly.”
“My aunt, Lady Catherine, is not the most reasonable of relations, either.”
“Fitzwilliam!” Old Mr. Darcy chastised his son.
“You seem determined to challenge me, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said, then turned crimson, for her accidental use of his Christian name caused her to recall crying out the word in the very throes of passion. She had to admit that this fine young man had a hidden sense of humour, a strong code of honour and the most handsome of physical forms. Perhaps…perhaps she could trust him with her future.
Mr. Darcy rubbed the insides of her palms. He loved the way she spoke his name, and the twinkle in her eyes. He shivered with pleasure as he remembered hearing her endearingly cry out his name at the height of their ecstasy…
Now, kneeling before her, he felt hot and pleasantly flustered, anticipating a lifelong enjoyment of this responsive, intelligent and no-nonsense beauty. He had only known her for a very short interlude but he felt a surprising connection with her.
Old Mr. Darcy was happily satisfied with their conversation so far. His son knew that he had done wrong, and was taking responsibility for his actions, upholding his duty and honour. And this young woman, though without connections or wealth, seemed an exceptional find, nothing at all like the regrettable Miss Bingley. He felt confident that Miss Elizabeth Bennet would stand up to – and stand by – her husband, for better or worse.
He left the young couple to talk and stepped out of the room again, where he found his valet waiting. As he had suspected, the cup smelt of laudanum and liquor, solving the mystery of Elizabeth’s presence in the room.
As for Fitzwilliam’s side of the tale, old Mr. Darcy had a good idea that it was indeed his rakish godson’s doing. It was evident from the way Wickham had insisted on showing him where Fitzwilliam was, immediately after he finally arrived at Netherfield. Then Mrs. Hurst had appeared by way of the servant’s entrant, most improperly attired. And he had not missed the angry glare that was then shared between Wickham and the married woman.
They planned to compromise my son. But what for? To obtain money from me to shut them up, most likely. But were there two separate plans, or did all three of them, Wickham, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, work together?
He found, abruptly, that he did not care. He was altogether sick of providing Wickham with a second, a third, nay, countless chances. It seemed that the young man’s dissolute ways were fixed. Very well, then. Old Mr. Darcy would wash his hands of Wickham. He would buy his godson a commission to India, and have him shipped off immediately. Nor could they stay longer at Netherfield, either.
With a vigorous torrent of plans in his head, old Mr. Darcy returned to the room, where he found that he had interrupted Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth in a sweet embrace. They broke apart, and he told them of his thoughts.
By the time the Darcys and the Bennet sisters drove to Longbourn, Wickham was on his way to Matlock House in London, under the restraint of two sturdy valets, there to await old Mr. Darcy’s nephew Colonel Fitzwilliam’s arrangement for his passage to India.
Mr. Bingley was told, gently but firmly, of their suspicions about Miss Bingley’s use of the laudanum, and of Mrs. Hurst’s scheme with Wickham. A horrified Bingley, after some fierce interrogations, extracted the stories from both sisters. Miss Bingley confessed to the use of the drug but denied any involvement with Mr. Wickham. Mrs. Hurst, in her turn, admitted to the blackmailing scheme. She had been having an affair, on and off, with Wickham for some years. On the day of the scheme, she had spent too much primping and had arrived at the guest chamber too late to enact their scheme.
Sick at heart, Bingley sent them both away, back to Scarborough, after their confessions. Mrs. Hurst did not fall pregnant by Wickham, which was fortunate since her husband separated, unofficially but unequivocally, from her after learning about the affairs and the events of the day.
For his part, Bingley apologised to the Bennets and Darcys most profusely, with obvious sincerity. As a result, the incident did not damage his chance with Jane Bennet or his friendship with Darcy.
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy married Miss Elizabeth Bennet some three weeks after the incident at Netherfield. Their premarital union did not result in a child. A year and a half later, however, when old Mr. Darcy handed over the full management of Pemberley to his son, Elizabeth gave birth to an heir. Eventually, old Mr. Darcy was kept busy with his five grandsons and two granddaughters from his son Fitzwilliam’s marriage to Elizabeth. His daughter Georgiana gave him three grandchildren, as well.
The old gentleman did not move out of Pemberley but remained to see the second generation of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy teasing, arguing, comforting and loving each other. The young couple had a happy life, despite the strange beginning of their acquaintance. Old Mr. Darcy gained a good friend in Mr. Bennet, who came to visit his favourite daughter at the most unexpected time. Even the once-silly Mrs. Bennet became rather sensible once she had grown older and all of her daughters were well settled.
As matters transpired, Old Mr. Darcy did not once regret sending his godson to India, despite the fact that the latter was never heard from again.
What if Mr. Darcy’s second proposal had taken place at Netherfield?
Instead of receiving a letter of excuse from his friend, as Elizabeth Bennet half-expected Mr. Bingley to do, he was able to welcome Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy back to Netherfield just a week after Lady Catherine’s visit to Longbourn.
The Bennets were invited to Netherfield for the engagement ball and they stayed afterwards, much to the disgust of Miss Bingley, as her brother did not want his beloved Jane to be ‘tired’ by the carriage ride, even though Longbourn was a scant three miles away.
As Elizabeth sat by the window in the same room she had occupied during Jane’s illness a year ago, her thoughts were with the tall, quiet gentleman staying under the same roof. She could still feel the heat of Mr. Darcy’s gaze during their first set of dancing. Her hands had trembled, every time they encountered his.
His hands, by contrast, had remained strong, steady and warm. She did not know whether she had imaged it, but it seemed to her that his thumb had gently stroked her fingers, every time he held her hand. She had breathed in his musky scent when he danced a little too close to her, and felt the air vibrate when his chest almost touched her bosom during the dance. It had given her shivers. Both of them had been so absorbed by the moment that they remained silent for most of the dance.
Elizabeth had no memory of any other gentlemen she danced with, that evening, until Mr. Darcy came back to claim the last dance. Much to the surprise of the locals in Meryton, it was the scandalous waltz. To Elizabeth, it was both heaven and hell. She could feel the blood riot in her body when he wrapped his arm around her waist and her hand touched his shoulder. Due to their height difference, she felt him nearly pulling her off the ground as he whirled her around with unnerving intensity and passion. She was sure she touched his body the whole time they danced together. She felt she floated on a cloud with him. Yet it was torturous because, although she could inhale his masculine aroma, move with his majestic body, and stare at his soulful eyes, he had not opened his heart to her. The occasion was too public. They had parted, retreating to their respective chambers with only a look of silent longing for each other…
With a deep sigh, Elizabeth rose from the seat and left the elegant guest chamber in Netherfield in search of a book to help her sleep. At the top of the stairs, she gasped and froze as she saw Mr. Darcy walking up. He was without his coat and cravat, and his hair was a bit dishevelled.
Mr. Darcy’s legs nearly failed him upon seeing the lovely form of Elizabeth above him. Her long, curly hair streamed down her shoulders. The white nightgown seemed to accentuate every hill and valley of her beautiful body. The moonlight shone through the window behind her, giving her an ethereal aura.
He had just finished consumed a few glasses of port, alone in the library, thinking about their torturous dances, her fragrance and her fine eyes. Now here she was, tempting him again. He breathed deeply and forced his legs to begin climbing again. He had to find out whether she was real.
When he reached the top step of the stair, his eyes were on the same level with hers. He put his hand out and touched her face. Her skin was warm and soft. Yes, she was real! As he saw her mouth trembled and her eyes dilated, he moved his thumb to trace the cherry red of her lips.
“Miss Bennet…”
“Mr. Darcy.”
Mr. Darcy’s face drew near to Elizabeth’s, and he uttered his next words with a vulnerability that touched her heart.
“Elizabeth, I… Pray tell me that your opinion of me has changed. My affections and wishes are even more ardent than before. I love you. I could never live happily without you.”
Her heart ached for him. She replied immediately, “My opinion…my feelings have indeed changed. I love you. I have loved you since …”
Her declaration was, however, cut short. Mr. Darcy was a man violently in love, one who had just achieved his heart’s desire after many months of bitter struggle. He forgot about the sleeping household, the rest of the world, everything but the pure and miraculous fact that Elizabeth Bennet loved him.
His head drew nearer to hers, and he sealed their fate with a kiss.
As kisses go, this one began tenderly. He was tentative at first, unwilling to risk frightening her. As his lips touched hers, however, he felt their very souls intertwine. His love, aspiration and hope for the future were answered in that moment.
Elizabeth’s heart was beating so swiftly that she feared it might burst at any moment. She felt the intensity of Mr. Darcy’s presence in her whole body. With that kiss, he seemed to have invaded her every pore and nerve. She wetted her lips…no, they were his lips. And just as she thought she could not be closer to him than at that moment, he wrapped his arm around her waist, just as he had done during their waltz. Angling his head slightly, he kissed her even more deeply. They were merged into one, from head to toe.
When they stopped for breath, their eyes shone, and the brightest of smiles adorned their faces.
Elizabeth found herself surprised by his beautiful smile. He looked so happy! Reverting to her impertinent self, she teased, “Mr. Darcy, would you be shocked if I invited you to join me in my chamber? I have a few things to demand from you, and I choose to follow your aunt’s advice to use my arts and allurements to make you forget yourself and comply with my wishes.”
At such a provocation, his eyes widened. Then he joined her on the landing, passed one arm beneath her legs, and swung her off her feet.
She nearly screamed out, startled by his action. Instead, she chose to wrap her arms around his neck and muffle her cry by pressing her lips to his ear while he bore her off down the hallway toward her room.
By the time Elizabeth had thanked Mr. Darcy for his assistance to Lydia, and they expressed their “gratitude” for the interference of Lady Catherine, she had been sitting on his lap for quite some time as they alternated between words and kissing each other on the settee inside her chamber.
“Elizabeth, I think I had better return to my bed chamber before I do something to harm your reputation beyond repair.”
Mr. Darcy said with a notable lack of conviction as he continued to trace his lips down the neckline of her nightgown.
“If someone discovers us, you shall have to marry me,” she said, her hands smoothed over his shoulders and back restlessly, “immediately.”
“Yes, immediately!” he echoed as he pushed the nightgown off her shoulders, baring her creamy mounds. She was breathing heavily, causing her delicious breasts to rise and fall dramatically. His heart nearly stopped at the glorious sight, and he devoured her lush bosom with his eyes.
Her nipples hardened under his avid gaze.
He lowered his head and suckled one nipple while his fingers plucked at the other.
Elizabeth felt her body jerk upward, and a hot current sizzled from her breast to her womanhood. She was on fire as Mr. Darcy continued to worship her twin peaks earnestly. Her fingers tore at his hair and dug at his shoulder.
He raised his head and said, “Elizabeth, trust me.”
When she had returned his gaze and nodded, he lowered his head and kissed her passionately.
She thought she could not feel any hotter but she was soon proved wrong. She did not know how the hem of her gown had become hiked up, but it had. His hand moved between her thighs, and he began stroking her secret lips.
Elizabeth felt stars burst in her head. As he insinuated one finger into her entrance, her whole body trembled. She moaned and twisted as he slid the finger in and out of her secret garden. As part of his continuing kiss, his tongue mimicked the action of his finger, thrusting into her mouth. Then he introduced a second finger, stretching her muscle slightly, in and out, again and again and again while her breath grew shorter and shorter, until she was suddenly tipped off the edge and reached a climax that caused her to cling to him quite desperately, trembling.
At that, Mr. Darcy stopped his ministration and kisses. His cheek touched hers, and he breathed heavily as he waited for her to still. After he had himself under control, he tidied her clothes and embraced her limp body.
“Elizabeth, my love, I really had better go back to my room now,” he said, this time with more conviction.
Elizabeth nodded silently but her eyes were still dark with passion. As he opened the door, she found her strength and flew across the room to clasp him in a tight embrace.
Suddenly, a woman’s scream was heard.
Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth both turned towards the sound, which had come from the stairs. As one, they rushed there. To their horror, Mrs. Hurst lay at the bottom of the stairs, motionless.
More people gathered. A shocked Miss Bingley, Mr. Hurst and their friend, Mr. Willoughby, were all soon gathered at the top of the stairs.
Mr. Darcy was the first to move. He descended the stairs to check on Mrs. Hurst.
“She is alive. Hurst, awaken Bingley and send for the doctor!”
But Mr. Hurst did not move. He seemed frozen. It was Mr. Willoughby who moved, instead, rushing towards the family wing to alert the master of the house.
Mr. Darcy lifted Mrs. Hurst carefully and carried her to her bed chamber, directed by a servant. Elizabeth followed him into the room, with Miss Bingley at their heels.
“You two have killed her!” Miss Bingley suddenly accused.
“Whatever are you talking about?” Mr. Darcy asked.
“This slut is your mistress! Louisa must have discovered it, and so the two of you decided to silence her.”
“What kind of nonsense are you spouting, Miss Bingley?” Mr. Darcy asked icily. “I demand that you apologise to Miss Bennet.”
“I will not! I saw you come out from Miss Eliza’s room. Your clothes are in disarray. Just look at yourselves! Her lips are swollen, and you have marks on your neck. She is your whore!”
“Dear heaven...” Mr. Bennet said from the open doorway. “Lizzy, is this…?”
Mr. Darcy interrupted him. “Mr. Bennet, your daughter has just done me the great honour of agreeing to become my wife.”
“Engaged to Mr. Darcy! Ten thousand a year! The fine carriages! The pin money!” Mrs. Bennet squealed and rushed into the room to hug her daughter, and her wildly enthusiastic response effectively prevented her husband from demanding an immediate explanation from the young couple.
But Miss Bingley was another matter. Seeing her sister injured and her hope of becoming the Mistress of Pemberley dashed sent her into a fit. She shrieked, “No! No, I say! How can you possibly marry her! How could you choose her over me! She is nothing! She has no money, no connections, no style and no education!”
Mr. Bingley, who had just hurried in, said sharply, “Caroline, calm yourself and leave this room at once!” He came to the bedside and took Mrs. Hurst’s limp hand in his own.
“Darcy, what happened? Who did this to Louisa?”
But the mystery of Mrs. Hurst’s injury was destined to go unsolved, for the victim never regained consciousness.
Nevertheless, the unfortunate incident did not palpably hinder the ardent courtship and magnificent marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy.
What if Mr. Darcy had a rakish soul?
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy looked into the mirror and, startled, cried out, “Who are you?”
He turned to look at the man who stood a mere foot from him. How could it be possible? The man looked exactly like him, with just the same tall frame and dark, curly hair.
While he himself wore a black overcoat, matching waistcoat and breeches and a pristine white shirt, the man had everything in reverse. His coat, waistcoat and breeches were alabaster white, while his shirt was black. The other differences were that this stranger had olive skin and a reckless grin.
“I am your rakish soul,” the man replied with a wink, and rubbed his hand over his thigh.
“Rakish soul? I do not believe it. You have the manner of an imposter.”
“Do I not look exactly like you, Good Darcy?”
“My complexion is not so dark.”
“Well, people normally associate rakish behaviour with the shadows. As your blackguard, I take on the darker complexion. But tell me, are not my eyes, nose, mouth and voice exactly like yours?”
Ignoring the question, Darcy said with conviction, “I do not have a rakish soul. I am an honourable man.”
“Ah, but you are wrong. Every human is born evil. Only upbringing and education prevent them from staying evil. Still, I can reassure you, to a point. You were born with only a tiny bit of rakishness, not evil at all. You are mostly a good man, truth by told.”
“You are a fake!” Darcy accused, but thoughts rose to assail him. Am I turning mad? I am about to attend the Meryton Assembly. Should I instead stay in and send for a doctor for myself?
“Do not be alarmed, Good Darcy. I appear here and now for a good reason.”
“Why?”
“To show you how to court a lady.” Rakish Darcy grinned. “And I shall be with you for a while. You may call me Rake Darcy.”
“I do not intend to court any lady, and certainly not here in Hertfordshire. And you cannot make fun of my surname in this manner.”
“Ah, but you cannot fight fate. I am part of you. Darcy is as much my surname as yours.”
“Nonsense! I am devoted to caring for Georgiana until she has recovered from her heartache. Move aside,” Darcy command. “And do not follow me.”
“No one can see me, except you. And Georgiana needs a woman’s hand. It will do her good when you find her a nice sister.”
“You sounded like a match-making mama. Go away, charlatan!” With that, Darcy stalked out of the room. But when he glanced back, he saw his olive skin twin was following him, although Mr. Bingley, Mr. Hurst and the servants did not seem to notice the imposter.
Am I truly mad? he wondered.
“I say, Mr. Darcy, do you think we will be quite safe among the savages?” The angular voice of Miss Bingley woke him from his thought.
Darcy did not reply. He simply bowed to her. But his rakish soul walked near her, then pulled and clipped a long feather from her head. Her head jerked to the side and she cried out in pain. She did not seem to see Rake Darcy either. Darcy’s mouth gaped open. He wanted to laugh but, as a true gentleman, he stifled the urge.
Bowing to Miss Bingley quickly again, he pulled her brother aside.
“Bingley, can we go in separate carriages?”
Bingley glanced at his sister, who was stomping her feet and swearing to herself, trying to tidy the unruly feathers. With a sigh, he nodded and asked Mr. Darcy to go ahead with his carriage, while he and the Hursts waited for Caroline. Miss Bingley tried to protest, but she was muffled by Rake Darcy.
Mr. Darcy turned a blind eye and settled into the carriage with trepidation. Has my mind truly turned mad?
“No, you are not mad. And Orange Lady’s feathers are ugly!” Rake Darcy commented, appearing abruptly in front of him after the carriage had been on its way for several minutes.
Darcy’s heart raced at the shock, but he folded his arms and said angrily, “She is my best friend’s sister. You should not play tricks upon her.”
“Bah! She is a bad influence! You will become a snobbish jerk if you continue to associate with her.”
“No one can influence me. I am the master of my own self.”
“Master, my ass! Once I have observed your behaviour tonight, I shall know how to label you.”
Rake Darcy looked out of the window, exclaiming at the lovely scenery, the bright moon and the fresh air. He seemed as excited as a five-year-old boy on his first picnic.
Mr. Darcy gritted his teeth, refusing to talk to Rake. I do not behave like this. He has no dignity or manners.
When the carriage pulled up in front of the Assembly, Darcy panicked. He should have waited for Bingley. He did not know anyone else who would be attending, and he did not want to go into the hall alone. People would surely size him up, attempting to assess his wealth.
“Come on! We’ll find lively music and merry ladies inside.” Rake Darcy tugged him out of the carriage and pushed the reluctant Mr. Darcy, causing him to stagger forward.
The Assembly abruptly fell silent. Darcy halted in his tracks, flustered. He had never before stumbled into a gathering in such an inelegant manner.
An elderly gentleman came forward to greet him. “Sir William Lucas here. Welcome to our Assembly. I do not believe I have yet had the good fortune of making your acquaintance.”
Mr. Darcy bowed with as much dignity as he could belatedly muster. “Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley. I am a guest of Mr. Bingley. He has been delayed for a few moments.”
“Capital! Capital! Mr. Bingley mentioned that you might be joining him.”
While Sir William was asking him about his journey to Hertfordshire, Darcy caught sight of Rake Darcy skipping around the room, clipping more feathers from ladies’ hats and then stopping in front of a group of three women.
Sir William followed the direction of Darcy’s gaze and said jovially, “Oh, may I introduce you to Mrs. Bennet and her daughters?”
“Umh…” Darcy stammered as he saw Rake lowering his mouth to the earlobe of one of the younger ladies. She was extremely pretty, with blond hair, a serene countenance and a sweet smile. She did not seem to notice that she was mere inches away from being kissed.
Darcy gave his rakish soul a glare and walked toward the party quickly. Stop, Rake! How could you do such a thing here?
“…delighted to make your acquaintance.” The sound of a high-pitched voice startled him, and he realized belatedly that Sir William had introduced him to the older lady.
Darcy could feel sweat beading on his brow. He had been so preoccupied by thinking how to stop Rake that he had ignored the women’s greetings.
“Do you like to dance, Mr. Darcy?” Mrs. Bennet asked, looking annoyed. She tilted her head to the direction of the blond lady.
Seeing that Rake Darcy was circulating around that young woman, ogling her from every direction, Darcy closed his eyes for an instant and reasoned that a dance with the other maiden would at least allow him to draw his scoundrel twin away from the handsome woman who had captured the rogue’s attention, if Rake was really here to observe him court a lady.
He turned to the younger lady and bowed. “Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?”
Mrs. Bennet frowned and murmured, “But surely you would like to dance with Jane first. She is prettier than Elizabeth…”
Darcy truly looked at Elizabeth Bennet for the first time. She was slightly shorter than Jane but she had a more womanly figure. While Jane had fair hair and angelic features, Elizabeth had dark curly hair and mischievous eyes. Although pretty in her own way, he supposed she was truly less traditionally handsome than Jane.
This will be a torture. She probably has no wit, Darcy thought glumly, and his jaw tightened.
However, seeing Rake Darcy’s boorish behaviour toward Miss Jane, Darcy put out his hand decidedly.
At that, Elizabeth placed her hand on his and followed him out to the dance floor.
To his surprise, he felt a sudden thrill run through his body when she touched his hand. As they walked to the dance floor, he had to admit, at least, that she had good manners.
Uneasy with strangers, he remained silent. His gaze drifted off to search for his olive twin, wanting to know whether Rake had followed him to the dance floor.
“Do you regret your decision?”
The voice of his partner startled him. At least she has a lively voice. “What decision?” Darcy asked, and frowned, turning his attention more to his dance partner.
“Your decision to ask me to dance, instead of my sister.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Your eyes seem to be turning more in her direction than concentrating on our dance.”
“I only wanted to see whether my friend Mr. Bingley has arrived.”
“I see you are not familiar with our neighbourhood. The entrance to the Assembly is that way, not where Jane is standing.” She arched one brow, and her mouth curled up slightly on the right. What a fine pair of eyes she has! Dark and sparkling when she flirts. And those lush cherry lips! He drew in a deep breath. She smells like fresh lavender, Mother’s favourite fragrance.
Rake Darcy’s sneering voice startled him. “Caught on the spot, Good Darcy? It is an unforgivable offense to neglect your dance partner, especially one so lovely.” The devilish man was standing right behind Elizabeth, mimicking her dance steps.
Darcy stared back at his rakish soul and bid Rake to desist with his eyes. His dance partner cocked her head and looked at him strangely. He bit his lip, reframed from bursting out with the scathing words he wanted to hurl at Rake.
Moving towards the end of the dancing line, Darcy’s hands were touching Elizabeth’s in one of the dance moves. Suddenly, Rake walked closer to her, wrapped his dark hands around her waist from behind, smoothed their way up the front of the dress, and cupped her gorgeous bosom.
Darcy stopped dead. His eyes nearly popped out. Such a magnificent pair of creamy mounds! His body boiled as he felt the sensation in his hands. But how can this be? Rake caresses the lady, and I feel the tingle?
Elizabeth stood still in front of him. She shivered, and her long eyelashes blinked quickly. Then she closed her eyes for a moment and leaned her head back toward Rake.
Darcy was outraged. He could not allow Rake to ravish Miss Elizabeth on the dance floor –
The music ended, and a sudden commotion startled him, and he looked to find that Bingley’s party had finally arrived. A loud voice was speaking, and the people at the Assembly turned their attention to focus on their new neighbours.
Darcy seized the opportunity to pull Elizabeth out to the balcony.
Rake’s devilish smile faded as he was separated from them. He called out after the pair, “I say, Good Darcy, where are you taking her? Don’t be long. Her breasts are firm and bouncy. I want a good taste of them.”
Upon hearing that outrageous demand, Darcy picked up his pace.
Once he had guided Elizabeth safely outside, the night air cooled his heated body. Under the bright light of a full moon, his gaze fell on his dance partner once again. Elizabeth’s shimmering yellow gown seemed to glow, making her look like a golden goddess.
She was breathing heavily, her chest moving up and down. The cool air made her nipples stand up and push impudently against the thin muslin. Darcy suddenly had the urge to take his cue from Rake’s words and suckle her hard. But he called upon his self-control and resisted those thoughts.
“What happened?” she whispered, and the husky timbre of her voice helped to distract him from his ungentlemanly thoughts.
Darcy nervously brushed at his hair with an unsteady hand and turned to look up at the sky. “It is too hot inside.”
“You do not want to greet your friends?”
“Miss Binlgey is not my favourite person.” After the words came out, he clamped his mouth shut. It is Rake! He is a bad influence.
“She intends to snare you?”
“How did you know?”
“You immediately escaped out here when I heard her ask where you were.”
“Did she indeed?”
She nodded. “Rather loudly.”
“It is unfortunate that Bingley has such a sister.” What has happened to my discretion? I am confiding unkind opinions about Miss Bingley to a total stranger!
“I have three rather silly younger sisters, myself. We cannot choose our relations. What about you?”
Darcy’s countenance turned grave. “I have a younger sister, twelve years my junior. Georgiana used to be cheery and lively, but a…misadventure, this past summer, has changed her.” Why am I confiding in her, rather than Bingley? Perhaps the appearance of Rake Darcy has shaken me up.
“I am sorry to hear of it. Did you not want her to be here with you?” she asked softly.
Her compassionate expression urged him on. “I blame myself for her misadventure. My aunt and uncle thought my self-berating mood was disruptive to Georgiana’s recovery. So they took her in, for the time being, and urged me to travel here to visit Mr. Bingley.”
“And you miss her.”
He nodded. “Our mother died when Georgiana was but two. I love my sister dearly.”
“And your father?”
“He died five years ago.”
“You miss your father’s guidance and your mother’s gentleness.”
He nodded again. How can she understand so much about me?
“You have soulful eyes. I can see that your parents were very dear to you and still mean a great deal to you, even now.”
Looking straight into her tender gaze, Darcy suddenly felt a sense of belonging. It was like coming home, where he could share life’s ups and downs with someone who truly understood him, even without words.
His defenses fell away, and he began to pour out the sense of disappointment, anger and betrayal that he felt towards his childhood friend, George Wickham, although he was still cautious enough not to disclose Georgiana’s failed elopement.
“I sometimes think that all of humanity is born evil.” Elizabeth touched his hand to comfort him. “Only good breeding and education prevent them from staying evil. It is tragic that Mr. Wickham did not take advantage of the excellent opportunity with which your family provided him.”
She is saying exactly the same thing as Rake! How can that be?
She turned her face to the sky and said, in a more cheerful tone, “But then I remember our Lord. He provides us with guidance and good examples. I am happy to say that I know more good people than bad…but you must take into account that I only dine with four-and-twenty families regularly.”
Darcy smiled at her jest. Do I know more virtuous souls than vile ones? Indeed I do. Will I be able to forgive Wickham? Perhaps…one day.
In the meantime, here stood a beautiful lady with sense and sensitivity, watching him with glittering eyes. She was altogether worthy of his attention. Gently, he brushed a wayward curl behind her ear and whispered, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would you do me the honour of dancing with me again?”
“Another dance? Are you sure that you are up to such an undertaking?” She arched her brows but did not take his hand.
He nodded. “I believe so. I know, now, that you have three silly sisters.”
“And a match-making mother,” she added, and smiled.
“Well, I meet many of those in London society.” He returned her smile.
“My aunt and uncle live in Cheapside,” she cautioned, but she put her hand in his.
“The late great-grandfather of Mr. Bingley lived not far from there, as well.” He squeezed her soft hand and placed it on the crook of his arm. In accord, they walked back into the hall, chatting eagerly.
That night, although the good people of Hertfordshire did not know enough to recognize the rarity, they were treated to the genuine smile and laugh of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Miss Bingley nearly fainted upon seeing him escort Elizabeth Bennet to the floor for the third set of dances.
As for Rake Darcy, luckily for all concerned, he did not make a further appearance that night.
What if Netherfield Park was haunted?
"My dear Mr. Bennet," said his lady to him one day, "have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?"
“But, Mama,” exclaimed Lydia, their youngest daughter, “that house is haunted! Who can have been so droll as to let it?”
Mrs. Bennet snorted. “Nonsense. Your uncle Philips assures Mr. Bingley, who is a young man of large fortune from the north, that the house is in superb order...”
Soon, the Bingleys moved in and became acquainted with the Bennets, who were but three miles away. Jane Bennet, the eldest daughter, visited the Bingley sisters one day, but became sick after being caught in the rain. Our story continues as in the original tale until the last night of Jane and Elizabeth’s stay at Netherfield. It was not until the last day of October that the boundary between the living and the deceased dissolved.
“I am quite bored with this visit!” The elegant elderly lady stretched her arms above her head and danced a little step away from her companion.
“Emma, that is a most unladylike gesture! We need to uphold our manner, even in the land of darkness,” the handsome old man chided.
Pouting, Emma folded her arms across her bosom. “Oh, Mr. Knightley, you are such a bore! I do not understand why I agreed to marry you at all, when we were alive. And I especially do not understand why we are still together now that we are dead.”
Knightley came to her and wrapped his arms around her slim waist. With a serious countenance, he said, “Just think what sort of havoc my little Emma would create in the world, if not for my constant vigilance. I cannot leave you, my dear, day or night.” He then lowered his head to give her a quick kiss on the lips.
Emma unfolded her arms and pushed him away. “George, we only have a few hours to play with the living. Let us not waste time. You can kiss me any other day of the year. We will be going back to Hartfield soon.” She then ran upstairs, as quickly as her elderly legs could manage, happily.
Knightley chased after her. “Now, Emma, what do you have in mind? I do not want you to scare any of the young people to death. I heard that it has been many years since Netherfield had a family living here.”
She went through the door of the first bedchamber. When he caught up with her in the room, they could see a plain-looking man lying on the bed, snoring loudly.
Emma held her nose with her fingers and frowned. “He stinks! I wager he drank more than three glasses of brandy, and whatever else was on offer tonight.”
“Let us leave him alone then. You do not want to play with a drunkard.”
“What do you say we make him want never to drink again? You can turn into a big barrel of foul-tasting wine and press onto him heavily, giving him nightmares. I wager he would not go near a drink anymore, after such an experience,” she said with a mischievous grin.
“Emma! And here I thought you only liked to play at matchmaking!” He tried to pull her away from the bed.
“I know, but he is already married to this Lousia, so I cannot make a match for him.”
“How do you know about that?” he asked.
“I like to listen in on the lives of the living, from time to time. Mr. Hurst likes to drink and sleep. His wife is called Lousia. They seldom spend their nights together. In fact, they have not done so once since they moved to Netherfield. But you are right, my dear. Matchmaking is my favourite. I know what I shall do.”
With a quick turn, she disappeared, leaving nothing but a puff of white.
Luckily, he could find her anywhere. With a fast swirl of the air and another puff of white, he joined her in another bedroom, where she was perched on a chair beside a bed where a handsome young man lay sleeping.
“George, young Darcy here loves the lively lady staying in the guest chamber, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Unfortunately, he has the laughable notion that, since she has no connections or money, and has a mother and sisters who are improper, he should not show her any sign of admiration. Shall I make him confess to her?”
“How can you do that? We do not possess the magical power to make the living speak as we want!” Knightley rolled his eyes and shook his head. After so many years of marriage, he still did not understand how his wife could unerringly find all the gossip of the world.
“All things are possible. I can put him and Miss Elizabeth in the same room, and I can turn quite scary every time he does not reveal his true feelings to her. Let me wake him and take him to his heart’s desire.”
Knightley put his hand on her arm. “Wait, Emma. You might well scare them both to death.”
“Well then, if you do not like that plan, I suppose I could strike him on the head every time he does the wrong thing.”
“You will knock him witless then. Do you want to do that to a sensible young man?”
“What would you have me do, then? It is only on this night that I can play at matchmaking for the living,” Emma said, pouting again. But then her face brightened. “I know! I shall simply put him in her bed. I know how much he loves to gaze upon the form of the fair maiden. He will not be able to resist her, when he lies so close beside her. He will simply have to marry her, after tonight!” She clapped her hands, congratulating herself on the brilliant idea.
“How do you know that the young man lusts after this Elizabeth? Did you see more than you should?” It was his turn to fold his arms across his chest, as he was seriously displeased at the idea of his wife looking at another man.
“You know I cannot ‘peek’ into the goings-on of the living when we were in our world. But I listened. He talked in his sleep from time to time; and then I even heard him providing his own relief, once or twice, and crying out Elizabeth’s name in his moment of ecstasy.”
“Emma, you are shameless!”
“I am an old, married woman with several children. I know all about men and their needs.”
“Still! To eavesdrop on a single young man of the living world! It is not the right way to interfere. Do you even know whether the young lady likes him or not? If she does not, you will only create a forced marriage, one for which Miss Bennet certainly will not thank you. Let us leave the living to their lives. We should take a stroll in the moonlight. We have not done that for a long time.” Knightley then pulled her hand to the crook of his arm and took her away from Darcy’s room.
Unknown to the good couple, Frank Churchill had been listening to their conversation. Much like Emma, he also liked to play with the living, but he liked perverse jokes better, and so he decided to do precisely what Knightley had opposed: he lifted Darcy’s sleeping body and transported him to Miss Elizabeth’s room.
How did he know where Miss Elizabeth slept? He eavesdropped on the living, of course, just as Emma liked to do. Life in the dark was boring. He had thought for a moment about whether to deliver this Darcy to Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst, but he did not think it would work. The young man would not be aroused by them. He had also considered taking Mr. Darcy to the other Miss Jane Bennet, but reasoned that she might still be too weak to entertain him.
By the time Churchill put Mr. Darcy down to lie besides Miss Elizabeth, he was out of breath. He hated this weakly ghost form of himself. He was no longer a handsome man, and his hair was almost gone. His body was so big that he could hardly see his shoes, and his face was covered with wrinkles. Worst of all, he was no longer aroused by fair maidens, and could no longer accomplish the manly act. Otherwise, he would have loved to trifle with many of the fair maidens who had lived in Netherfield in years past.
Churchill took a look at Miss Elizabeth. She is not as pretty as my Jane was when she was in her bloom. But this gentlewoman has quick wit and a temper. She should be a passionate thing in bed. And I heard her protesting to her sister that she did not like this young man at all. It will be fun to see her response when she awakens to find him in her bed. Ah, but I had best tie her up, or she will scratch his eyes out before he can trifle with her. I shall stick the locks of the main and servant doors, and then she will be unable to escape him! He laughed at his own scheme.
Churchill duly tied the wrists and ankles of the lady to the bedposts, then knocked both Darcy and Elizabeth on the head slightly, and sat back on a chair, intending to watch…
“Frank, where are you?”
The scream of his wife gave him shivers. The pretty, compliant Jane Fairfax he had married so many years ago had turned into a shrew not long after she gave birth to their first daughter. She never recovered her light and pleasing form; worse yet, she started to indulge in drinking. She grew as ugly as a pig, and soon started hitting him when she was drunk. He never thought he would be rendered witless by a mere woman.
“Where are you, old man? I shall skin you alive when I find you!” Her voice was nearer, and he swore at his damn luck. He had hoped to enjoy watching a bit of passionate mating, but now, instead, he had to run. Why can she not leave me alone on this one day of merriment? He stood up immediately and, with a twist of his body and a puff of white, left Elizabeth’s room in great haste.
Mr. Darcy felt a slight pain in the back of his head and woke up. Bright moonlight shone onto the bed. This is not my bedchamber in Netherfield, he realized with a shock. The room was similar, but the hangings were in pink, rather than dark brown, And the curtains and furniture were more suited to the tastes of a –
He felt the warmth of a body beside him, and heard a soft moan. He turned around on the bed and, with the help of the moon’s light, saw that it was Miss Elizabeth Bennet lying there. Her eyes were half closed, and she was moving slightly, as if she were about to wake up.
He sucked in a quick breath. What is she doing here? Does she intend to use her arts and allurements to make me forget what I owe to myself and to all my family? How dare she? I thought she was different from the fawning women of the ton. Indeed, I had imagined her to be superior to the likes of Miss Bingley!
A sudden anger surged in his chest. He stripped the bed sheet off her body, intending to send her away immediately…
Darcy’s eyes widened when he saw that she was bound to the bed. Her hands were tied to the bedpost, high above her head, and her legs were pulled apart and bound, as well.
Did I do that? Did I come here to her room and tie her up? Is this a dream?
Mr. Darcy focused on Elizabeth’s tempting form. He had wanted to admire her figure for many days. She looked very real. Her feet were so small, he could palm them easily. As the hem of her night dress was hiked up, he could see the skin of her legs. They looked as smooth as those of a newborn. Under the thin layer of cloth, he continued his survey. He swallowed hard upon seeing her supple thighs, wide hips and narrow waist. Then his gaze reached her bosom. The creamy globes were hardly contained by the thin green nightgown. They were rising and falling rapidly, dangerously close to pushing the nipples out from their confinement with each upward movement.
Darcy’s arousal came on with full force upon seeing such a lovely vision. He licked his lips. What a dream! I do not want to wake up! He decided to take advantage of it before the tempting vision of Miss Elizabeth disappeared. Lowering his mouth, he pressed a wet kiss to her cleavage. She smells wonderful! A mixture of rose, lavender and maiden sweat! With her hands bound above her, he could not pull the straps of her night dress down her shoulders, and so he set himself to unfastening the tiny buttons that ran down the front of her gown instead. When he had freed a dozen of them, he folded back the halves of the fabric bodice and feasted his eyes on the result. Indeed, he felt like a hungry infant who could not get enough of her. His tongue traced the gorgeous fullness of her breasts with a connoisseur’s reverence. What a vision! Finally, I can devour her as I like.
He was about to lower his head to suckle her rosy nipples when the shaking, tentative voice of Elizabeth made him raise his head. “What… are you doing here?” He could see that she was wide awake now. She wore a touchingly vulnerable look, and she pulled at the cloths that bound her hands and legs. When she was not successful at freeing herself, she demanded more forcefully, “Mr. Darcy, what are you doing to me?”
He trailed his fingers from her brow, down her cheek to her lips, and replied, “I like this dream. We can still duel verbally, but you can no longer misunderstand my meaning. I am mad for you, and I intend to ravish you now.”
Her eyes widened with fright. “A dream? Are you not a gentleman? How can you ravish a maiden, even in a dream?”
He laughed out loud, which made him look young and carefree. “I have often dreamed of making love to you before, teaching you the pleasures of man and woman. In my mind, you were always hesitant but responsive. I have had much pleasure from you. But I never before dreamed of ravishing you with your hands bound. I’ll wager that my gentlemanly nature has lessened under the pressure of your tempting allurements over these past few days.” He grazed his cheek on her breasts roughly, then slipped his hands under her nightdress and gently squeezed her inner thighs, pretending to be a rogue.
She felt less frightened, reassured by his smile, half-convinced that it was indeed a dream. But his manly ministrations made her heart jump. Something not right. “You dreamt of making me yours? I do not believe it! You said I was not handsome enough to tempt you! You must be just a scoundrel who takes pleasure in trifling with gentlewomen.”
Mr. Darcy lowered his mouth and nibbled her upper lip until she was left breathless. “I apologize,” he murmured at last. “I had not the heart to socialise when I first arrived in Hertfordshire. My sister had not yet fully recovered from a disheartening experience during the summer. I was preoccupied and worried about her. But I had not had the heart to refuse Bingley’s invitation either, as he has been such a good friend to me. I had not even looked at you properly when I said those words. Not long thereafter, I realised that I found your form light and pleasing, your wit challenging, and your attitude altogether refreshing.” He rubbed his body against her side and said, “You see? I am all hot and hard now. I find you more than tempting. And I am no scoundrel. I have not trifled with any maiden before. I swear. You were my wife when you laid with me in the dreams.”
He saw her face turn bright red, and her breathing became shallow. “Your wife? Then your intentions are honourable? You do not look down upon the society of Meryton? The reason you did not speak to us was not because you considered us confined and unvarying?”
He pressed his fingertips against her neck, feeling the fast pulsation of her blood. Then he lowered his hands to cup her breasts, and watched with satisfaction while her expression grew dazed as he squeezed and kneaded the creamy twin peaks. He did not feel called upon to explain himself. This was a dream, was it not? He would much rather enjoy her heavenly body. However, ever the true gentleman, he replied, “Pemberley is situated in the country, too. I love the country better than town. I am just not very good at conversing with strangers.” He then remembered her words of the other day. His hands stopped and he asked uncertainly, “Do you indeed find me vain and prideful?”
She could hardly gather her wits. Suppressing a moan at the cessation of his caresses, she said, “You slighted me at our first meeting. You did not talk to people at our gatherings. I fear I drew an unfortunate conclusion.”
But her tactful wording did not suffice. Mr. Darcy was so disappointed that he stopped his ministrations, and drew the unbuttoned halves of her bodice together to cover her bosom. Then he sat up and, with difficulty, untied her. “I thought you welcomed me. You defended me to your mother. You challenged my thinking at every turn. I thought that was your way to make me aware of you and flirt with me. You attracted me more than I liked. I even decided that no sign of admiration should escape me, nothing that could elevate you with the hope of influencing my felicity. How very wrong I am!”
Freed, Elizabeth sat up as well. She pulled the bed sheet up to cover herself. “I am truly confused. You did not want me to have hope in you, and yet in your dream, you made me your wife.”
Mr. Darcy stood up and paced the room, then stopped suddenly before her and, without warning, poured his heart out. “What could I do? In vain I have struggled. My feelings will not be repressed. I admire and love you ardently. But could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? To congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own? And the situation of your mother's family, though objectionable, is nothing in comparison to that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed by herself and by your three younger sisters.”
Stung, Elizabeth stood up, hands on her hips, and replied, “I find your address both offending and insulting. I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. From the very beginning, from the first moment, I may almost say, of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your …”
“Stop!” The sudden sound of an elderly woman’s voice made Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth whirl around in surprise. They stiffened at the sight of an elderly couple sitting on the bed they had so recently vacated.
“Who are you?” Mr. Darcy said.
“What are you doing here?” Elizabeth asked.
“I am Mrs. Emma Knightley, and this is my husband, George.” The elderly woman turned slightly as she introduced the elderly man. When her body moved, the moonlight seemed to dim. Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth’s eyes widened on seeing that the bodies of their strange visitors were almost transparent. Indeed, they could see through the elderly couple to the other side of the room.
Elizabeth gasped, then threw herself against Mr. Darcy. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she cried out in alarm, “Is this still a dream? Are they ghosts?”
“I warned you, Emma, that you would scare them to death!” Mr. Knightley said.
“Do not be afraid, Miss Elizabeth. We are good ghosts, and this is not a dream. It is Samhain{1}, the time when we can appear in the living world. I know that Mr. Darcy truly loves you. I only wanted him to admit to wanting you as his wife, and to see the two of you happily together.”
Mr. Darcy was shaken, as well. He wrapped his arms protectively around Elizabeth and pulled her as tightly against him as possible. But, as a man, he vowed to be brave. “Mrs. Knightley,” he said, firmly addressing the lady ghost, “I do not appreciate your interference. I am an adult, and I know what is best for myself. As it happens, your actions did not help. Miss Bennet found my admiration…wanting.”
“Bah! She found your address wanting. Young man, you cannot tell a woman that you love her, in one breath, and then insult her family, in another next. You will be marrying her, not her family. Your aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh is as objectionable, in her way, as any of the Bennet ladies. You should be ashamed of yourself. And did you think clearly about your own character? Your ten thousand a year cannot tempt this girl to marry you. You will need to mend your arrogant ways and truly cherish her. Now, take this frightened young girl to bed and do your manly best to please her.”
“Emma!” Mr. Knightley chastised his wife.
“What? This young man has certainly thought about ravishing her often enough. Why should I pretend that he has had no such thoughts, now that Miss Bennet is in his arms and the doors cannot be opened?”
At that, Mr. Darcy released Elizabeth just long enough to check on the door to the corridor. The lock was twisted, as if it had been smashed by a hammer. He pulled at it a few times, but it would not move at all. He then walked to the door that opened to the servants’ entrance. It was in a similar state.
“What kind of ghosts are you? You brought me here, bound Miss Bennet, and made the locks unworkable, all in the name of matchmaking. Have you no shame? I demand that you fix the doors immediately.”
Mr. Knightley defended his wife, “Emma did not transport you here, nor did we bind Miss Elizabeth or damage the locks. It was all Churchill’s doing. He is a spineless ghost who enjoys playing twisted jokes on the living. And, although I am sorry to disappoint you, we do not possess the magical power to undo what he has done.”
Elizabeth gasped in distress. “Oh, please! You can pass through walls. Can you not take Mr. Darcy to his bedroom that way? He cannot be found in here in the morning!” she pleaded.
“We are ghosts, and so we can indeed go through walls. But Mr. Darcy is alive. He cannot. Do you want me to kill him and shove his body out of the window, all so that your reputation can remain unsullied?” Emma asked, baring her teeth.
“No!” cried Elizabeth and Knightley together.
Elizabeth ran back to Darcy and held onto him tightly. “Mr. Darcy is a good brother and a good friend. And he has many tenants who depend upon him. I would not have such a man harmed simply to protect my reputation.” Elizabeth said indignantly from within the sheltering curve of his arm.
Emma adopted a menacing countenance. “But you do not like him. He has seen you in almost your full glory. How can you marry another? Is it not better that he be dead?”
“No,” Elizabeth objected staunchly. “I was only prejudiced against him in the past, disappointed that such a handsome and eligible man found me lacking. Now that I know his true feelings, if he can bear with my family, I would be most happy to accept him.”
Emma clapped her hands. “Excellent! And what do you say, young man?”
Mr. Darcy held tight to Elizabeth, also fearing for his life, as there was no telling how a ghost might act. “Elizabeth, I apologize for looking down on your relations. I would be most honoured if you would consent to be my wife.”
She nodded and whispered, “It will be my honour!”
“Marvelous!” Emma cheered. “Now, young man, take her to bed and start making babes. I promise that we will not peek. I shall even keep Jane and Frank Churchill away. But I will not leave entirely until I hear her maidenly cries of ecstasy,” Emma declared, then disappeared in a puff of white.
Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth turned bright red.
Mr. Knightley cleared his throat. “I am sorry, Mr. Darcy and Miss Bennet. You need not do as Emma said. I shall try to keep her out of here. Either way, it is almost dawn. She and I will need to return to the land of darkness soon.” With that, Mr. Knightley bowed and disappeared, as well.
At that, Elizabeth fainted. Had she not swooned and required his strong arms, Mr. Darcy thought that he himself might well have fainted from fear, as well.
Rallying, he swept her up in his arms and placed her on the bed. Going to the wash stand, he dampened a cloth, then returned to the bedside to press it to her forehead and throat, his hands shaking.
Words rose, unbidden, to his lips and spilled forth, baring his deepest thoughts and feelings. “Elizabeth, I love you. Please do not fall ill from the shock of this night. I shall truly honour my promise to marry and cherish you. I shall learn to bear with your relations. Mrs. Knightley, though overbearing, was right. I have been a selfish being, all my life. As a child, I was taught to care for none beyond my own family circle, and to think lowly of all the rest of the world. Such I was, from eight to eight-and-twenty; and such I might still be but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You have taught me a lesson, one that was hard indeed, at first, but one that is most advantageous. Please wake up, Elizabeth, and say again that you will be mine.”
Elizabeth’s eyes slowly opened. She had heard his entire whole-hearted declaration, and she now reached up to caress his face with the gentlest of hands.
“Mr. Darcy, you must forgive me, as well. I was blinded by prejudice about your character and behaviour only because you slighted me. I took every chance I could to challenge you, in an attempt to show you that I was superior to the elegant ladies you had known. I was vain and prideful, as well. I did not know my own mind. I feel honoured and gratified that you love me…but I will not hold you to your promise. After all, it was only made under threat from the ghosts.”
Mr. Darcy held her face and spoke with passionate regard. “Not so. My wishes and affection are unchanged. Elizabeth, marry me!”
She returned his gaze and replied, in a firm, clear voice, “It is my honour, Mr. Darcy.”
He lowered his head and gave her a passionate kiss…which led to another. And another. What better way was there to drive away fear with this, the most pleasant of pursuits? It was not long before Mr. Darcy was lying half atop of Elizabeth’s body, stroking her breast through the thin fabric of her night dress. He stopped and was about to steel himself to move away when she said, “Make me yours, Mr. Darcy! Please, teach me the pleasure of man and woman, just as in your dreams.”
“Are you certain that this is what you want, my love? Are you sure that you are not still frightened by the threat from Mrs. Knightley?”
Elizabeth sat up and shook her head. “I was actually…quite disappointed just now, when you stopped touching me.” Then she buried her head against his shoulder and murmured. “You must be disgusted by me. Such wanton behaviour! I declare, I am no better than Lydia!”
Mr. Darcy eased her back onto the bed and cupped her face again. “Ah, but there is no shame in wanting your beloved. In fact, it will make our marriage bed most enjoyable. But your father may demand a long engagement. I would not want to have to confess to him that I had taken your virtue, or that we are forced to marry immediately because I have gotten you with child.”
“Oh!” Elizabeth said, clearly disappointed.
He chuckled. “But I know of many ways to teach you about the pleasures of the flesh without endangering your virtue. Do you trust me?”
She nodded enthusiastically. Darcy smiled, and slowly removed her night dress. When she lay naked in front of his eyes, he was gobsmacked. She was beautiful, her manner shy and yet eager. He bestowed kisses upon her face, lips, shoulders, breasts, nipples, abdomen and down to her apex.
When he parted her legs and licked her wet womanhood, she squirmed and moaned aloud, letting him know the pleasure he was giving her, encouraging him to do more. He tasted her folds and pressed his tongue into her entrance, in and out, mimicking the mating action, while his hands continued to cup and stroke her bosom.
Elizabeth was overwhelmed. His hands and lips were like magic. She cried out loudly as she reached her climax. Her inner muscles convulsed and contracted, and she screamed in astonished delight, for the sensation was utterly unknown to her.
When she finally stopped shivering and trembling, he lay by her side to catch his breath. Her peak had shaken his control; indeed, he had nearly come when her leg accidentally brushed against his shaft.
As her wits returned, she asked, “May I… return the favour, my dear?” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“Are you certain?”
“I am certain of nothing, unschooled as I am in these arts, and yet I hope that you will find me a most eager and determined pupil.”
Ecstatic that she was proving to be so brave a woman, Mr. Darcy asked her permission to take off his night clothes. Although she averted her glance, she did not shy away when he did so and then pulled her on top on him. He stroked the curve of her pert bottom and moved her body up and down to tease his manhood. When her wet folds rubbed against him, his arousal, which had already been substantial, sprang even to attention. His breath caught, and he devoted himself to kissing her mouth and playing with her gorgeous breasts.
Elizabeth, emboldened, soon braced her hands on his chest and rode him as she would have ridden a horse astride. Although he was not inside of her, she was excited by each contact with his velvety hard shaft, which pulsed and shook like a wayward and excited animal.
Experiencing these ministrations, Darcy could not long bear to lie passively. Of a sudden, he turned her over and straddled her. Encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist, he played the head of his proud rod along her drenched womanhood, nearly maddened by the need not to claim her fully. He suckled her nipples in such a mad frenzy that it brought her to another climax. Instinctively, she tightened her legs around him, raising her body from the bed and twisting against him intimately.
Unprepared for her wild action, Darcy reached his peak almost immediately. Wrenching aside, he gritted his teeth to stop the loud groan of satisfaction as his seed spilled onto the bed sheet. Then he collapsed on top of her.
When the sun finally rose above the horizon, the ghosts returned to their world. While Elizabeth called for help to smash open the doors to her bedchamber, Mr. Darcy hid in the dressing room, and later returned to his room with no one the wiser concerning his nocturnal adventures.
But when he and Mr. Bingley accompanied the Miss Bennets back to Longbourn, he lost no time in asking for permission to marry Miss Elizabeth.
They were wed two months later, in a double ceremony with Bingley and Jane. During the weeks of their engagement, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth grew to know each other much better, and found that they were fine complements to each other, both in temperament and in their views about the world.
There was, however, a sad incident that resulted from Bingley’s stay at Netherfield. It seemed that Miss Bingley had witnessed two ugly, elderly ghosts named Jane and Frank Churchill in a brawl in her bedchamber during the last night of October. She was frightened nearly to death, and fled to seek her sister Louisa’s help. After that, she refused to sleep alone, demanding that Louisa stay by her side. Bingley cancelled the lease on Netherfield after his marriage and moved to an estate in Derbyshire, while Miss Bingley lived with her sister ever after.
As for Emma Knightley, although she did not cause Miss Bingley’s fright, she received a thorough chiding from her husband. Mr. Knightley took her back to Hartfield, while Jane and Frank Churchill continued to haunt Netherfield Park.
A few years later, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth named their second daughter Emma, in honour of the overbearing ghost who had so successfully brought along their earlier understanding.