Pride and Prejudice (The Wild and Wanton Edition) (5 page)

The words drew a small reaction from Mr. Darcy, but she merely smiled politely and pretended not to notice the subtle reference to his slight upon her character. When Sir William looked expectantly at the gentleman in question, Mr. Darcy, with grave propriety, requested to be allowed the honor of her hand. It was in vain for Elizabeth was determined.

“Mr. Darcy is all politeness.” Elizabeth smiled in earnest now that she knew her clever barb had been well placed. Let the prideful man know his remark had been heard, remembered, and that she was unaffected by it.

“He is, indeed,” Sir William agreed, “but, considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complaisance — for who would object to such a partner.”

Sir William did not shake her purpose by his attempt at persuasion.

Elizabeth looked archly, and turned away. Her resistance had not injured her with the gentleman, and Mr. Darcy was thinking of her with some complacency, when thus accosted by Miss Bingley, “I can guess the subject of your reverie.”

“I should imagine not.”

“You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner, in such society, and indeed I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed. The insipidity, and yet the noise — the nothingness, and yet the self-importance of all those people. What I would give to hear your strictures on them.”

“Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.”

Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections.

Mr. Darcy replied with great intrepidity, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” repeated Miss Bingley. She was hard pressed to hide her amusement. “I am all astonishment. How long has she been such a favorite? And pray, when am I to wish you joy.”

“That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. A lady’s imagination is very rapid. It jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy.”

“Nay, if you are serious about it, I shall consider the matter as absolutely settled. You will have a charming mother-in-law, indeed. Of course, she will always be at Pemberley with you.”

He listened to her with perfect indifference while she chose to entertain herself in this manner, and as his composure convinced her that all was safe, her wit flowed long.

Sleep did not come quick or easy for Elizabeth, and she found herself walking through her darkened home in the early hours of morning. She liked the stillness of night and the way the shadows and moonlight transformed the ordinary, everyday objects of her family’s existence into a fanciful garden. She traced her fingers over the mantel, around the wide body of a vase, along the curving paths of oval paintings. She recognized each item from memory and did not need the light to discern their details. This gave her thoughts leave to wander where they willed, and where they willed was the deep blue eyes of Mr. Darcy, for it was always his eyes that first came to her before the memory of his handsome face, then the breadth of his shoulders and length of his arms. He was attractive, would be more so if he smiled and laughed; there were a great many gentlemen of Mr. Darcy’s social stature that managed as much. What was it about Mr. Darcy that caused him to be the most rigid soul of propriety? Wealth commonly brought with it a reserve of character and pride, understandably so, but Mr. Darcy embodied both traits a little too perfectly.

She had imagined once she pointed out her knowledge of his hurtful words, she would sever the ties that kept him tethered to her mind. This was not to be. Despite his proclaiming her to be merely tolerable as a dance partner, he had been easily persuaded by Sir William to change his mind. She could not make out his character; could perceive no reason as to why Sir William should persuade him when his good friend Mr. Bingley had not. Had something changed since that first meeting?

Elizabeth touched her face, seeing the ghostly reflection of herself in the window. The blue light caused her features to pale. Many had told her she was pretty, not so beautiful as Jane, but more blessed than others. Though conscious of her looks and figure, she did not obsess about them as some women were wont to do. She much preferred to apply her thoughts to the gaiety of friends, the fanciful worlds in novels, and the application of her mind.

Her lips parted and she reached for the window, tracing the reflection. The cool glass slid beneath her fingertips. Bringing the chilled fingers to her mouth, she closed her eyes, and whispered, “Mr. Darcy.”

A small shiver of pleasure and longing passed over her, even as part of her wished to deny the attraction. Any feelings she harbored were certainly owed more to the mystery of the brooding gentleman than any comprehensible logic. When she opened her eyes, she detected a shadow to move beyond her reflection. Instantly, she stepped back, banishing the fanciful thoughts from her as she hurried once more into the sanctuary of bed.

M
R. BENNET’S PROPERTY consisted almost entirely in an estate of two thousand a year, which, unfortunately for his daughters, was entailed, in default of heirs male, on a distant relation. Their mother’s fortune, though ample for her situation in life, could but ill-supply the deficiency of his. Her father had been an attorney in Meryton, and had left her four thousand pounds. She had a sister married to a Mr. Philips, who had been a clerk to their father and succeeded him in the business, and a brother settled in London in a respectable line of trade.

The village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton, a most convenient distance for the young ladies, who were usually tempted to go there three or four times a week, to pay their duty to their aunt and to a milliner’s shop just over the way. The two youngest of the family, Catherine and Lydia, were particularly frequent in these attentions for their minds were more vacant than their sisters’, and when nothing better offered, a walk to Meryton was necessary to amuse their morning hours and furnish conversation for the evening. However bare of news the country might be in general, they always contrived to learn some from their aunt. At present, indeed, they were well supplied both with news and happiness by the recent arrival of a militia regiment in the neighborhood. It was to remain the whole winter, and Meryton was the headquarters.

Their visits to Mrs. Philips were now productive of the most interesting intelligence. Every day added something to their knowledge of the officers’ names and connections, and their lodgings were not long a secret. At length, they began to know the officers themselves. Mr. Philips visited them all, and this opened to his nieces a store of felicity unknown before. They could talk of nothing but officers; and Mr. Bingley’s large fortune, the mention of which gave animation to their mother, was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the regimentals of an ensign.

After listening one morning to their effusions on this subject, Mr. Bennet coolly observed, “From all that I can collect by your manner of talking, you must be two of the silliest girls in the country. I have suspected it some time, but I am now convinced.”

Catherine was disconcerted, and made no answer. However, Lydia, with perfect indifference, continued to express her admiration of Captain Carter, and her hope of seeing him in the course of the day, as he was going the next morning to London. The very mention of the Captain’s name set the two girls to giggling, a condition they were not easily cured of.

“I am astonished, my dear,” said Mrs. Bennet, “that you should be so ready to think your own children silly. If I wished to think slightingly of anybody’s children, it should not be my own.”

“If my children are silly, I must hope to be always sensible of it.”

“Yes, but as it happens, they are all very clever.”

“This is the only point, I flatter myself, on which we do not agree. I had hoped our sentiments coincided in every particular, but I must so far differ from you as to think our two youngest daughters uncommonly foolish.”

“Mr. Bennet, you must not expect such girls to have the sense of their father and mother. When they get to our age, I daresay they will not think about officers any more than we do. I remember the time when I liked a red coat myself very well — and, indeed, so I do still at my heart. If a smart young colonel, with five or six thousand a year, should want one of my girls I shall not say nay to him. I thought Colonel Forster looked very becoming the other night at Sir William’s in his regimentals.”

Mrs. Bennet was prevented from further comment by the entrance of the footman with a note for Miss Bennet. It came from Netherfield, and the servant waited for an answer. Mrs. Bennet’s eyes sparkled with pleasure, and she was eagerly calling out, while her daughter read, “Well, Jane, who is it from? What does he say? Make haste and tell us, make haste, my love.”

“It is from Miss Bingley,” said Jane, and then read it aloud. “My dear friend, if you are not so compassionate as to dine today with Louisa and me, we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives, for a whole day’s tete-a-tete between two women can never end without a quarrel. Come as soon as you can on receipt of this. My brother and the gentlemen are to dine with the officers. Yours ever, Caroline Bingley.”

“With the officers?” Lydia cried. “I wonder why my aunt did not tell us of that.”

“Dining out,” said Mrs. Bennet with a disappointed shake of her head, “that is very unlucky.”

“Can I have the carriage?” asked Jane.

“No, my dear, you had better go on horseback.”

“Horseback?” Elizabeth demanded, looking out the window. “But it is likely to rain.”

“And so it shall,” Mrs. Bennet agreed. “And then, Jane, you must stay all night.”

“That would be a good scheme,” said Elizabeth, “if you were sure that they would not offer to send her home.”

“Oh, but the gentlemen will have Mr. Bingley’s chaise to go to Meryton, and the Hursts have no horses to theirs.”

“I had much rather go in the coach.” Jane frowned in worry. Such schemes were not in her nature and felt a little too much like deceit.

“Your father cannot spare the horses, I am sure. They are wanted in the farm, Mr. Bennet, are they not.”

Mr. Bennet had been listening with quiet interest while pretending to be occupied by his book. “They are wanted in the farm much oftener than I can get them.”

“But if you have got them today,” Elizabeth said, “my mother’s purpose will be answered.”

She did at last extort from her father an acknowledgment that the horses were engaged. Jane was therefore obliged to go on horseback, and her mother attended her to the door with many cheerful prognostics of a bad day. Her hopes were answered. Jane had not been gone long before it rained hard. Her sisters were uneasy for her, but her mother was delighted. The rain continued the whole evening without intermission, and Jane certainly could not come back.

“A lucky idea of mine, indeed!” said Mrs. Bennet more than once, as if the credit of making it rain were all her own. Till the next morning, however, she was not aware of all the felicity of her contrivance.

Breakfast was scarcely over when a servant from Netherfield brought the following note for Elizabeth, which she promptly read aloud, “My dearest Lizzy, I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends will not hear of my returning till I am better. They insist also on my seeing Mr. Jones. Therefore do not be alarmed if you should hear of his having been to me, and, except a sore throat and headache, there is not much the matter with me. Yours, Jane.”

“Well, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet, “if your daughter should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was in pursuit of Mr. Bingley.”

“People do not die of little trifling colds. She will be taken good care of. As long as she stays there, it is all very well. I would go and see her, if I could have the carriage.”

Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, was determined to go, though the carriage was not to be had. As she was no horsewoman, walking was her only alternative. She declared her resolution.

“How can you be so silly,” cried her mother, “as to think of such a thing, in all this dirt? You will not be fit to be seen when you get there.”

“I shall be very fit to see Jane, which is all I want.”

“Is this a hint to me, Lizzy,” said her father, “to send for the horses.”

“No, indeed, I do not wish to avoid the walk. The distance is nothing when one has a motive; only three miles. I shall be back by dinner.”

“I admire the activity of your benevolence,” observed Mary, “but every impulse of feeling should be guided by reason.”

“We will go as far as Meryton with you,” said Catherine and Lydia. Elizabeth accepted their company, and the three young ladies set off together.

“If we make haste,” Lydia said, as they walked along, “perhaps we may see something of Captain Carter before he goes.”

Near Meryton they parted. The two youngest continued into town with the plan that they were to walk along the main street, before repairing to the lodgings of one of the officers’ wives. Kitty hoped to see if their favorite shop carried new ribbons. Lydia had every intention of finding a replacement for Mr. Daniels. He had bowed to her once while in town, but she had not the slightest interest in him now that there were officers to be had. She knew he would dare no more than that, and chose to think of him no more. Seeing a private named Sykes nearby in his regimentals, she knew she had found her latest target. An overly ambitious young man, he would not want a scandal attached to his name, nor did he seem to be in the market for a wife. Rumor had him set to be engaged to a daughter of a family friend whom he had never met. Still more, there was a coarseness to his manners that were in great want of breeding. And, to make him perfect, he was not to stay in Meryton for long, a week at most.

Losing Kitty would prove no easy task, for her sister liked to stay close to her side. Luckily, though, Sykes did not miss the subtleties of her flirting, nor the practiced lick of her mouth and it was not long before his responses were more than she could hope for. She pointed Kitty to the far end of the store to discover the most perfect of green ribbons amongst the many, knowing her sister would never discover that which did not exist. Then, with Sykes walking at an artful distance, she led him away, through the narrow side streets where no one would venture during that time of day.

Leaning against a tight inlet between two ill fitted buildings, she waited for him to pass by. The moment that she saw him, she bid him to her with a giggle. He came, hesitating as he glanced back and forth through the alley.

“It is true you are to leave soon?” she asked with a bat of her lashes.

He replied that it was.

“But you have only just arrived here, and I was so looking forward to having you at the next ball.” Lydia parted her lips, liking the way he looked at them. When he began to answer, she grabbed him by his shirt collar and jerked him around so that he was fitted into the tight space. “I suppose that I must simply settle on having you now.”

Unlike the others, she found no reason to pretend she was innocent. The perfection in such a lover was that he was temporary. Her hand instantly went to his member, stroking the hard length in her palm. She tilted back her head and laughed.

“There is a good soldier, ready and at attention!” She made quick work of his pants, exited by the idea of his taking her there in the open air, surrounded by buildings. Oh, how Kitty would worry when she realized Lydia had slipped away from her. But, her sister would not know what to do and would simply pretend to browse the shop while worrying in silence.

“And what are my orders?” he managed, his voice harsh.

Lydia pulled at her skirt, revealing an ankle. “To take the enemy territory by any force necessary.”

He growled low in the back of his throat. His hand gripped tight to her breast, as if he had every right to squeeze it tight. “Turn around, so that I may show you how well I wield my quimstake.”

Lydia had never heard that particular term for a man’s cock and did not have a ready answer. She did not need one. There was nothing gentle in the way he lifted her skirts and flung her around to face the building. Her hands splayed as she was forced to bend over, braced against the tight space. Sykes fumbled with his breeches, freeing himself just enough to join his body to hers. He grunted, throwing up her skirts to find her naked and ready. Without testing her resolve, he gave her what she wanted, thrusting hard into her sex. Taking up her hips, he rode her to his pleasure, not caring about her any more than she cared about him.

“There’s a good cunny,” he grunted. “It knows to be wet for a man.”

Lydia had not expected such a rough show, but then she had never tried to seduce a man with so little manners before. She found herself enjoying the role of his lover. Climax came for them both, and he pulled himself from her at the last moment. Breathing hard, he slapped her along her backside before righting his clothes. Flushed and a little dazed, Lydia watched as he reached into his pocket. Dropping two coins on the ground, he said, “Tell no one of this. I cannot have rumors attached to my name.”

As he stumbled away, she would have been offended if not for the money catching her eye. She pushed down her skirts and quickly picked up the coins. Oh, the many ribbons she would be able to buy! Kitty would be so jealous. She stood for a moment longer, settling her appearance before sneaking back towards the street.