Mr. Darcy's Indiscretions Page 4

  Lydia had use of Mr. Farthing’s carriage on a rather permanent basis due to friendly relations between the two of them, and Elizabeth made use of it from time to time as well. She called for the carriage, but she did not have it take her to Lydia’s home.

  Instead, she had the carriage take her to a different part of London altogether. She was about to call on a gentleman alone, and her fate would be quite sealed. No respectable woman did such a thing. She ascended the steps to his door and knocked.

  When a footman answered, he seemed a bit shocked to see her there, all alone, but he showed her in to a sitting room and went off to retrieve his master. Elizabeth supposed she was lucky the man of the house was at home and not off somewhere else at a party or ball. After tonight, she would be his mistress. She had made her choice. This was the man to whom she would surrender her virtue. It was all to be settled.

  When Mr. Darcy came into the room, she stood.

  He was surprised to see her. “Miss Bennet. I had not thought… You are unaccompanied?”

  “I don’t see that it matters,” she said. “Considering what you asked of me earlier.”

  Mr. Darcy blushed. “Oh, I don’t know what came over me.” He coughed and looked around the room, out of sorts. “It’s not the least like me to say such things to a woman. Any woman, let alone a woman like…” He coughed again. “I say, I had better ask someone to bring up something. Perhaps some cakes or tea or—”

  “A strong port?” she said.

  He turned to her, eyebrows raised. And then he nodded once, briskly and went to the door to deliver her missive. That done, he came back to sit down opposite her.

  There was a fire in the fireplace, cheerily blazing now, although it had just been lit upon Elizabeth’s arrival. The room was becoming nicely warmed. She rubbed her hands together briskly.

  “Well, to what do I owe the honor of your presence?” he said, smiling at her.

  Something in his smile made a shiver run down the back of her neck. It was thrilling and frightening all at once. “Well, I thought about it,” she said.

  “Thought about what?” he said.

  They were interrupted then by a servant who had come with the port.

  An interval of some minutes passed until they were each settled with a glass of wine and alone again, no one to listen to their conversation.

  “Where were we?” said Mr. Darcy.

  “I only thought that I was being ridiculous,” she said. “I have always been so with you. I have an exceeding amount of pride, even now, after I have been brought so low. I don’t know what it is about you that brings it out of me. But I do need help. My mother’s debts are formidable, and they must be seen to, or we will be carted off to prison. And as much as I have survived, I do not know that I could survive that. I think that we might chip away at them with Lydia’s help, but I would rather have them settled and done with quickly, and that is why I had agreed to the arrangement with Chivsworth. But I know nothing of him, and I am acquainted with you. And you are…” She swallowed. “Well, if I am going to do it, I find the prospect of it being with you much more amenable than with, um, a stranger. So…” She took a gulp of wine and then looked up at Mr. Darcy to see how he was taking this little speech of hers.

  There was something hungry in his gaze as he looked at her, but also something else. Amusement? He found her funny?

  She wanted to be angry with him, but she drank more port instead. “Well, say something Mr. Darcy, for heaven’s sake.”

  “I don’t know what it is you want me to say,” he said. “I have already told you that I made that offer to you earlier in error. I should never have said something so offensive and improper.”

  “So, you have rescinded it?” She chuckled bitterly and drained the glass of port. “And here I am making a fool of myself. I should know that you only want me when you are out of your senses.”

  “Oh, that is not what I meant.”

  “No?”

  “More port?”

  “Please.”

  He got up and refilled her glass from the bottle. Then, he sat back down and gazed into the fire. “You wish me to renew my offer?”

  “Not if you do not wish it.”

  “Oh…” And now he chuckled, ruefully. He studied his knuckles. And when he spoke again, his voice was that gravelly voice from earlier, the one that had cut through her and made her feel undone. “I wish it.”

  Her breath caught. She gulped at the wine and now she felt lightheaded.

  He raised his gaze to hers. “Very well, then. I renew the offer. Be my mistress, Miss Bennet.”

  She swallowed hard. “All right,” and her voice was thin.

  “All right,” he echoed. He drank his wine and gazed at her with that penetrating look, only this time, it seemed to go straight through her clothes and skin and insides, all the way to her soul.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  After Elizabeth left, Darcy had to lie down because he’d had far too much to drink. Before she’d arrived and they’d finished off a bottle of port together, he’d been drinking whiskey, and he knew the combination would do him no favors. He’d also behaved rather horribly. Could he blame the drink for the shameful way he’d egged her on?

  There was no excuse for it. He could not take advantage of her in this way. To do so made him a villain, just as bad as that Chivsworth fellow, which he hated without knowing. Almost as bad as Wickham, although not quite so bad as that, not really. He would be taking care of Elizabeth, after all, and her sisters, and he wasn’t twisting her affections for some material gain. He did care about her.

  But, yes, fine, there it was. He would admit it. He wanted to bed her.

  Apparently, he wasn’t above paying for it.

  He would have given her the money regardless, of course. He had already had some of his people making inquiries into the debts incurred by Mrs. Bennet, and they were not formidable to him. He could have them erased in a moment.

  But no, there was something perverse in him, and he wanted her first. He would have her, and then he would settle the debts, and then he would pay her triple the amount she asked for on top of that, and he would make sure that she and her sisters could live somewhere better, with decent servants, and… and…

  He already felt guilty and he hadn’t even touched her.

  When he woke up the next morning, his head was aching. Breakfast was cold and Georgiana was playing on her pianoforte, shut up in her room. He knew better than to disturb her when she was engrossed in her music. She wouldn’t be angry with him, but she would not hear him. When she was lost to her playing, there was no connecting with her. She would ignore anything he said.

  He ate a great deal, anyway. He knew that the best thing for a night of too much drink was a full belly if he could stomach the food, and he could.

  After breakfast he went to call on Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the colonel was still abed. It was noon. Darcy shouldn’t have expected otherwise, though. That was the way of it with his cousin. He waited, and Colonel Fitzwilliam came down in his banyan, his hair in disarray, about a quarter hour later.

  “Join me for breakfast, Darcy,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  “I’ve already eaten,” said Darcy, but he sat at the table while his cousin ate.

  “I haven’t seen you in days,” said Fitzwilliam. “I thought you were here in town to find Miss Darcy a husband. You realize that she has to be seen by prospective husbands for such an event to occur?”

  “Yes, of course,” said Darcy. “And I shall be bringing her out to some more balls soon enough. She is so dreadfully shy, you know.”

  “I do, but she is a lovely creature. I’m sure once she overcomes her shyness, it will not be long before she meets the right man.”

  “I would like her settled,” said Darcy. “I worry about her future happiness.”

  “And you, out of mourning,” said Fitzwilliam. “You must be on the prowl as well.”

  “I think not,” said Darcy. “Actually, I c
ame to speak to you about something. To ask for advice.”

  “Oh, advice from me? Darcy wants advice from me? This is quite a shock.”

  Darcy sighed. “I do value your opinion about some things.”

  “I had no inkling that you did, I must confess. You are marvelously skilled at hiding your admiration of me.” The colonel grinned and then filled his mouth with buttered toast.

  “I am thinking of taking a mistress.”

  The colonel chewed his toast and swallowed. “Well, good for you. I wouldn’t know a thing about it. I can’t afford a mistress.”

  “You are always gallivanting with women of questionable morals.”

  “Yes, whores,” said Fitzwilliam. “Much easier. You can pay them for a night and then wash your hands of them in the morning. A mistress? A mistress is just like having a wife, except you spend all your time trying not to get her with child instead of the other way around.”

  Darcy blanched. How could he have not thought about that?

  Fitzwilliam continued. “You have to clothe them and give them money and pay for their living quarters, and all for what? So, that you can do with them the exact same things that you do with your wife? Just get married again, Darcy.”

  “I don’t want to get married,” Darcy said darkly. “And I don’t want to get anyone with child.”

  Fitzwilliam was quiet. He regarded the remaining piece of toast on his plate, but he did not pick it up. Seconds ticked by. “Listen, what happened to Mrs. Darcy and the baby, that was—”

  “We don’t have to discuss it,” said Darcy.

  “You’ll have to get married eventually,” said Fitzwilliam.

  “No, I won’t,” said Darcy. “I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do.”

  “So, who will inherit Pemberley, then? That fat cousin of yours on your father’s side? Can you imagine what he’d do to the place?”

  “I plan to outlive him,” said Darcy, sighing. “No, I don’t know. I shall wait on all that. Perhaps someday, I shall find a very sturdy-looking woman. One with enormous hips and large hands. One not likely to succumb. But… no, not until Georgiana is settled.”

  “So, in the meantime, while you wait for this sturdy woman, you want to cavort with a woman who is a bit more lovely, and you immediately thought you would like to take a mistress?”

  “I…” Darcy sighed. “You know, perhaps I have not really thought it through.”

  “You have not,” said Fitzwilliam, reaching for his cup of tea. “Trust me on this, what you want are whores. I even know a place where you can find all manner of extremely winsome girls. Come with me some night, and the two of us—”

  “No,” said Darcy. “That’s all right. Thank you, though, cousin.” He stood up from the table. “I shan’t take up anymore of your breakfast.”

  “You’re leaving already?” called the colonel.

  Darcy bowed slightly at the door.

  “Do tell me the next time you and Georgiana will be out and about,” called the colonel after him.

  Darcy was shown out by a footman and then went back to his home, where a servant was waiting with a letter for him from Elizabeth.

  His stomach turned over. What had she written to say? Had she called it all off? He felt relief and disappointment in equal measure.

  But instead, he found inside a rather business-like letter detailing all the things that Elizabeth was putting into place for the two of them to enter into this arrangement of theirs. She said that she was ordering dresses and renting a house and procuring a few servants and that all these things would be billed to him. She estimated that she would be ready to receive him for the first time in about a week. She signed off politely, but there was no warmth in the letter at all.

  Well, he supposed that she must be somewhat accustomed to this sort of thing, given what she arranged with her sister. But still, he felt unsure of all of this.

  What had he gotten himself into?

  * * *

  “You mustn’t expect much from the first time, Lizzy,” said Lydia, lounging in the parlor at her home.

  Elizabeth was standing in the midst of several swaths of fabric and lace, all in light colors of violets, blues, yellows, and white. She had helped Lydia secure clothing for all these years, but she found it was rather different to be doing it for herself. She wasn’t going overboard with the clothes she was having made. She didn’t need too much, just a modest wardrobe. She wasn’t sure that Mr. Darcy would want to take her out at all, although many men did like to be seen with their mistresses, and she couldn’t imagine that Mr. Darcy would be different. However, she had only commissioned three evening dresses, which she would wear to receive him if he chose to keep her at home.

  She would be residing at this new home during the time that they were interacting. She couldn’t very well have Mr. Darcy come to visit her where she lived with her sisters, and it wouldn’t be proper for her to live at his house. Staying with Lydia would be awkward as well, so there was really nothing for it. She must have her own house.

  She assumed it would be a temporary arrangement, but it was rather nice. She was looking forward to having a maid to dress her and fix her hair. She was looking forward to having a staff to cook meals and the like. She needed to have that for the nights that Mr. Darcy would dine with her. He must be entertained in the style to which he was accustomed.

  “I am not expecting anything,” said Elizabeth, but that was also a lie. She had been thinking quite a bit about Mr. Darcy’s bare shoulders lately, she had to admit. She had not ever seen a man’s shoulders unclothed, not in real life, but she had seen statues and paintings, and she was quite able to picture what he might look like. He had exceedingly broad shoulders, and she could see that he was muscled under his jacket and shirt and cravat, and she had a feeling that his shoulders would be rather pleasant to look at.

  In fact, most recently, she was given to a fantasy in which Mr. Darcy was telling her to get into bed in his very, very deep voice, and he was not wearing a shirt at all when he did so. The fantasy made her feel very shivery and it also made things inside her quite taut and coiled up. She wasn’t sure, not exactly, but she thought that if she found a release of that coiled-up feeling, it would be exceptionally pleasant.

  Lydia sat up, a look of alarm on her face. “Oh, dear, Lizzy. I had thought you hated Mr. Darcy. Isn’t he a horrible man? You did refuse his marriage proposal, did you not? I thought he was snobby and priggish. I thought you had only accepted the offer of being his mistress because he was marginally better than Chivsworth. But you are in love with Mr. Darcy.”

  Elizabeth stood up straight, knocking fabric and lace askew. “I most certainly am not!”

  “Oh, you are.” Lydia got off the lounge she had been lying on. “This will not do, Lizzy.”

  “I’m not in love with him.”

  “You must not be in love,” said Lydia. “It will ruin it all. You will be hurt. And you might get jealous at some point. This is a disaster.”

  “It’s not a disaster, because I am not in love with him.”

  “Listen,” said Lydia. “Here’s what you’ll have to do. Tell him no kissing on the lips.”

  “What?” said Elizabeth. “I don’t even know why that would—”

  “It will be easier,” said Lydia. “Kissing is intimate. It’s romantic. You take that out of the equation, and it’s all about his body and your body and nothing else. It will protect you. Mark my words, Lizzy, you must do that.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I am not in love with him,” she said again, but her voice sounded pathetic, even to her.

  “Maybe it will all be fine, anyway,” said Lydia. “Your first night with him will be a disappointment, so then that may cool your ardor toward him.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because it’s always disappointing,” said Lydia. “It will hurt, for one thing. And there may be blood.”

  “I know all about this,” said Elizabeth, sitting back dow
n amongst her fabrics. “You have told me of it before.”

  “And men—all men—are frightfully stupid about women’s bodies. They are too rough and clumsy and they are not the least bit skilled at giving a woman pleasure.”

  Elizabeth picked up some lace and began to fold it. “Well, I am not expecting pleasure. It is only important that he find pleasure.”

  “Most men like it better if they think you’re enjoying it as well,” said Lydia. “Which means that a woman has two choices.”

  “Oh? What are they?”

  “Either feign pleasure or find ways to make the pleasure real.”

  “How does one make it real?”

  “Well, you must learn your own body, first,” said Lydia. “Once you know what brings you pleasure, you can show men how to touch you.”

  “Oh, I could not.” Elizabeth blushed. “Tell him what to do? He would never—”

  “He would love it,” said Lydia, shrugging. “They all do. Men are stupid when it comes to this sort of thing, trust me. They are big, dumb clumsy sweaty things who need to be led around by the prick.”

  “Lydia!” Elizabeth blushed and laughed and hurled the lace at her sister.

  Who laughed as well. “Was it the word that bothered you?”

  “No, it’s only that you…” Elizabeth buried her head in her hands.

  “You’re going to be up close and personal with one soon enough, Lizzy. Might as well come to terms with that.”

  Elizabeth swallowed hard. What had she gotten herself into?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Darcy coughed. He had come into the bedchamber in this house of Elizabeth’s, and it was dark in here. The only light was the lantern he had brought with him. He would have liked a bit more light. He wanted to see her while this happened, after all.

  He could not believe things had already progressed so far. The week that she had told him she would need to prepare things had passed quickly, and then she had summoned him to the house for dinner, and for… well, consummation, he supposed.