"That is amazing!" Charlotte laughed at Lizzie's model. Lady Catherine was taken way to seriously at this school and the brilliant thing about Lizzie's project was that it could be seen as an homage … or a joke. "Is it watertight?"
"It should be," Lizzie responded, "it's a simple enough model."
"We have a 3-d printer in the lab, we could print it out …"
"Wait," Anne said, biting her lip in that adorable way she did when she was constructing plans, she got out her sketchbook as she talked and began drawing out schematics, "if we printed it out, we could build an aperture with legs, turn it into a walking mockery of my mother's masterpiece!"
"I think it's a brilliant plan," Lizzie said, "but I'm outta here by the end of the week, so I won't have to deal with much fallout."
Charlotte considered the plan. It would be amazing, of course, but she didn't want Anne to have to deal with the consequences. "I'm only here for another month or so, there's little she can do to me, it's you I'm worried about," she said to Anne.
"Well, mummy is always talking about how I'm not living up to my family legacy as an artist, who better than a DeBurgh to post-postmodernize her work?" Anne smiled quietly down at her plans, "besides, maybe I'll finally push her far enough this time that she'll let me study what I want."
Charlotte was proud of her girl. When she'd first met her, Anne never would have done something so blatantly antagonistic towards her mother. She'd always fallen in line like a good little daughter of the aristocracy. One of the things that they'd bonded over was that they were both trying to quietly crawl out of the shadows of more dominant personalities. Charlotte had grown so much as a person once she'd given herself space to find her own way but it was nothing compared to Anne's transformation. Outside of her oppressive household Anne had grown into a witty, funny, vibrant person that Charlotte considered herself lucky to love. It still stung every time she had too see her back in Lady Catherine's presence, stifled, silent, and haughty.
Charlotte hoped that this was a sign of changing tides, that Anne was starting to break away from her mother's influence. Which was great, because Charlotte had some clear ideas on how Anne could definitively break away from Lady Catherine.
"I'm in!" Lizzie raised her arms triumphantly, "let's do this!"
"Oh my, what happened to your shoulder?" Anne asked Elizabeth. Charlotte looked over just in time to see a rather impressive hickey through the gaping collar of Lizzie's shirt before she blushed and lowered her arms covering it back up. She smirked, apparently Anne had made some progress, but was still shockingly innocent; they'd been taking things slowly.
"That would be Darcy," Elizabeth responded sheepishly.
Anne's eyes widened, "William hurt you?"
"No, babe, it's a hickey, a love bite," Charlotte reassured her, "it didn't hurt." Anne looked at her skeptically. "I'll give you a demonstration later," Charlotte winked, imagining all of the places she could place a hickey that would be hidden by clothing.
"Yeah, Will's a bit too afraid to hurt me, even when it's for fun. He's such a puppy, right down to slobbering all over me and marking his territory," Lizzie laughed.
"That's far too much information about my cousin," Anne answered. Charlotte took pity on both of her embarrassed companions and shifted the conversation back to their collaborative project.
"I cannot begin to count the occasions on which her ladyship has pressed upon me the importance of respecting an artist's intentions. What you have done, taking one of the greatest pieces of artwork of the last century and turning it into nothing more than a windup toy is … well, it's blasphemous!" Elizabeth did her best to tune out Collins' diatribe but that effort was giving her quite the headache. Charlotte had made the print of Elizabeth's model yesterday and Anne had finished the mechanical components this morning. They'd been gathered around with Lady Metcalf and a group of students gleefully watching the small model walk on a pair of chicken legs across a desk when Willa Collins walked in and flipped her shit.
Collins knew that Elizabeth had worked with Anne and Charlotte on the project, but since Anne was Lady Catherine's daughter, and Charlotte was Willa's ex that she still thought she had a chance of winning back, all of her anger and officiousness was aimed at Elizabeth. It was now Friday evening and Collins' rant had bled into the gallery opening for the annual exhibition. Charlotte, Anne, and Darcy were all busy with the opening so she couldn't escape to any of them for relief.
"This monstrous mockery of Lady Catherine's genius and your utmost lack of decorum while visiting this esteemed institution …"
"Excuse me," Elizabeth sighed in relief as Fitzwilliam interrupted Collins, "I hope you don't mind, but I need to steal Ms. Bennet away for a moment, there's someone I must introduce her to."
Collins looked torn between explaining Elizabeth's crimes to the newcomer and her natural deference to any member of Lady Catherine's family. In the end, she just ended up nodding as Fitzwilliam put his hand on the small of Elizabeth's back and led her off.
"And who is this paragon that I must meet," Elizabeth asked when they were out of earshot.
"I wanted to introduce you to blissful silence for a while, I've been watching and I don't think that blow-hard has taken a breath in ten minutes. What have you done to her?"
Elizabeth smiled and pulled out her phone, pulling up a video of their creation. "It was a collaborative project with Anne and Charlotte, but Collins is willfully ignoring that and placing the blame fully on myself. She's been like this all day," Elizabeth whined.
Fitzwilliam barked out a laugh, then looked around realizing that he was being too boisterous for a gallery opening with his Aunt standing across the room. "Fantastic! Has she seen yet? Can I be there when she does? I promise I'll take cover from a safe distance to avoid the fallout," he pleaded like a small child.
Elizabeth laughed, "I don't think anybody has had the heart to share it with her quite yet, I think they're all waiting for their final grades to come in before poking the beast."
At a curious glare from Lady Catherine, they shifted their conversation to more neutral topics. They eventually settled on Fitzwilliam telling stories about Darcy's childhood. He painted a much softer picture: an awkward, quiet youth trying – and often failing – to fit in.
"Sadly, he changed after his father died. He had to take on the welfare of the company, head the family finances, the estate, not to mention raise his pre-teen sister." He sighed before perking up and adding, "I'm glad he's got you now though, he needs someone to loosen him up a bit."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "he doesn't have me."
"Is that so?" He asked with a challenge in his eye, "then would you care to explain why you're wearing a jumper over your dress when it's 27 degrees in here?" He lifted up a hand to pull back the cardigan and she swatted it away.
"That's different, it's no-strings … casual, I'll be headed back to Massachusetts soon. Any chance we had at more ended when he left the first time."
His face went serious, "please don't say that, I know that decision ate him up inside. He's had some past … traumas … that caused him to overreact, but he does care for you."
Elizabeth didn't want to hear these things. She knew that Darcy was infatuated with her, but if it was more … no. He'd known since she arrived that this would end on Sunday. They could spend the next couple of days together then go their separate ways.
"You know," Fitzwilliam laughed, "on the drive out here, Darcy implied that it was Bingley that had entangled himself with a beautiful, young, American. I should have seen from his body language that he was talking about himself."
Elizabeth's mind reeled at that. How had she forgotten about Jane in all of this? Was she so weak that she'd been willing to overlook all of Darcy's faults and just jump back into bed with him? His explanation for why he left never quite explained Charlie's abandonment as well. Her headache pounded harder, she could hear her pulse rushing in her ears, and the stifling heat of the room became overwhelming. She swayed a bit, suddenly unsteady on her feet.
"Are you ok?" Fitzwilliam put a hand on her arm for support.
"I … have a headache," Elizabeth answered, unable to answer further.
"Let's get some air," he said leading them out onto the lawn. She gasped in fresh though humid air – she still felt oppressed. "Where are you staying? Shall I walk you back?"
"The Huntsford Inn," she said quietly.
"Come on, I know a shortcut."
Darcy was never fond of over-crowded rooms and small talk, but tonight had just been maddening. As the 'honored guest' of the evening, he was required to mingle, make small talk, and give feedback on the artwork when all he wanted to do was go to Elizabeth's side. He'd seen that obnoxious Collins girl droning on to Elizabeth and was initially relieved when Fitzwilliam intervened. That relief quickly turned to jealousy at their teasing banter. She knew what it did to him when she flirted with other men, and yet here she was flirting with his cousin … again.
He was trapped in a conversation with one of the deans when he saw Fitzwilliam take her arm and lead her out of the room. That had been half an hour ago and his stomach was turning. He wanted to believe that she wouldn't … at the very least that he would never … but what else could explain their prolonged absence?
He was giving feedback to the Collins girl when Fitzwilliam re-entered the room alone with a serious look on his face. Darcy walked away from the astonished student without even acknowledging her presence and grabbed his cousin's arm roughly, leading him back out of the gallery. "What is going on? Where is Elizabeth?" He asked menacingly.
"Calm down Darcy," Fitzwilliam held both of his hands up, "she has a headache so I walked her back to the hotel."
"She's ill? Is she ok?" His anger swiftly turned into concern.
"She'll be fine, it's just a headache," his cousin responded with a knowing smirk, "oh mate, you're so far gone on her!"
Before Darcy had a chance to defend against this accusation, Lady Catherine's imperious voice wafted into the hallway, "Where are my nephews? Darcy, Fitzwilliam?" her sour face followed her voice out of the door and she continued: "There you are. Fitzwilliam, don't think I didn't notice your exit nor your prolonged absence. Ms. Bennet may be lively prettyish sort of girl, but you are the son of an Earl and you are expected to have higher standards," she said with a significant look toward the elder of her two nephews. Darcy's stomach dropped, knowing that her censure would not be lighter in regards to a relationship between himself and Elizabeth. Turning toward the other, Lady Catherine said with a sickly sweet tone: "Darcy, they are nearly ready for your speech, you are needed on stage in five minutes."
"I shall be in directly Aunt Catherine, I have an urgent telephone call I must make."
She looked at him in displeasure, "five minutes," she said before turning on her heel and returning to the gallery, pulling Fitzwilliam along with her. Darcy sighed and pulled out his mobile.
Elizabeth sighed into her pillow, far more comfortable with her solitude, pjs, and air conditioning. That's one more comfort that Darcy's fancy hotel room offered at least. Her pressing needs met, she was left with no option other than to re-examine her behavior that week. Their first encounter was fairly on par for them – she was angry and when the argument got heated, they got heated. Then she'd wanted to punish him and fulfill the fantasy that she hadn't even known she had until he put it into her head.
After that was when her behavior became questionable. Her anger had begun to diminish. She didn't even like the guy and she'd been staying here, for free, in this swanky fucking hotel. She still didn't like him, right? He was arrogant, and selfish, and entitled. On reflection, selfish didn't exactly fit. He seemed to be more focused on pleasing her these days than on himself … hell, that even reached back to the first time in the library. And true, he had paid for the room for the whole week without talking to her first, but he had asked her, he had given her the option to go back to Charlotte's dorm.
She shook her head to clear it – immediately regretting the action as her headache was still raging – and tried to reclaim that anger. He had separated Jane and Charlie! He had broken her sister's heart! That asshole! But then again, he said that they'd already finished their work in Boston, perhaps they all just went back to their regular jobs. Even if Darcy had talked Charlie into leaving, it was still on Charlie to follow that advice, to cut ties without even talking to Jane.
Her introspection was broken by a soft knock at the door. Darcy wouldn't knock, it was his room. Perhaps Fitzwilliam had come back to check on her or sent Charlotte. She got up and answered the door to find a porter with room service. "I didn't order this," she said blankly.
"Mr. Darcy called and ordered it," he said and handed her a note: Elizabeth, I heard you weren't feeling well, I hope this helps. Get some rest sweetheart, I'll see you as soon as this thing is over. Know that I would rather be there with you, ~Will
She smiled and allowed the porter to set the tray on the table. When he was gone, she surveyed the tray: two bottles of water: one seltzer one still, a bottle of aspirin, a bowl of soup, some bread, and a single rose. How could he be such a sweetheart and such an asshole at the same time? That brought her back to the other startling disclosure Fitzwilliam made that night: Darcy cared about her. This was just supposed to be casual, how had it spun so far out of control? Could she, in good conscience, continue with this if she knew his feelings were involved? She pondered on this question as she quietly ate her soup, trying to convince herself that he was also just in it for the mind-blowing sex. After she ate, she took two aspirin and settled in to bed concluding that the damage was already done, how much worse could it get in two days?
It was near midnight when Darcy was finally able to get away. After the reception, a professor who had been good friends with his mother and who had known Darcy since he was a toddler asked him out for drinks with some of the other faculty. He had come bloody close to just telling them that his girlfriend was ill and he had to go check in on her but that would have gotten back to his Aunt and he didn't have the energy to fight that battle tonight.
He'd slipped into the room quietly and was trying to undress for bed as quietly as he could in the dark when she woke up with a sleepy, "Will?"
"Hey you," he whispered as he sat on the bed next to her and rubbed her back, "I didn't mean to wake you. How are you feeling?"
"hmm, a little better," she yawned and snuggled a little against him, melting his heart, "I'm not up for sex tonight though."
He chuckled and kissed her forehead, "of course not dearest, I just wanted to be close."
"Just sleep?" She asked wearily.
"Just sleep, we've only got two nights left and I'm not going to waste one of them sleeping alone at Lady Catherine's."
"Weird kink, but ok," she mumbled.
He smiled and asked softly, "is there anything I can get you before I go to bed?"
"Just sleep," she yawned again and nuzzled her head against the pillow like a cat. He stood and slipped under the covers, wrapping himself around her with a contented sigh.
Elizabeth stretched and yawned as she slowly woke the following morning. Almost immediately she felt an arm tighten around her waist as he dropped a tender kiss behind her ear. She was on her side and he was spooning behind her.
"Were you watching me sleep?" She groggily asked Darcy as she looked over her shoulder and saw him propped up on his free arm gazing down at her.
"Perhaps," he responded as he leaned down to kiss her, "this is the first time I've woken up with you in my arms."
As he bent to nibble on her neck, Elizabeth thought back and realized it was true. Because of the jet-lag she'd been waking up at odd hours of the early morning since she'd arrived in the UK, so she'd always slipped out of bed and let Darcy continue sleeping. "You know you could have just gone back to sleep or gotten up like a normal person," she teased, although she had to admit that she was enjoying this attention as well.
"Well," he said against her skin, trailing his mouth up to her ear, "I want to fuck you," he bit down on her ear and she moaned. "A shower might have helped with the immediacy of the problem, but not as satisfactorily as simply waiting for you to awake."
"Mmmm," she whispered, grinding back into him, "sounds like solid reasoning to me." Her doubts of the previous evening were fading in the soft morning light. Darcy murmured in assent as his hand stroked down her side and reached her core, eliciting an appreciative moan.
For the next several minutes, Elizabeth was content to lay there on her side as Darcy pampered her with attention. In her drowsy state, she was willing to take a passive role and just sit back and enjoy herself. Eventually she felt like she ought to reciprocate, so she exerted herself to turn in his arms.
"Good morning," she said with a saucy smile as she reached down to stroke him.
He gave a guttural growl and replied, "it's shaping up to be … mmm … the best morning." He gently her rolled her onto her back and settled on top of her, kissing her neck tenderly. His exploration was exceedingly thorough and methodical, as if he wanted to map out every curve of her body with his tongue. He began at her throat and made his way downward, taking extra time to plot the topography of her peaks before crossing the expanse of her stomach and traversing the flare of her hips.
"Will!" She plead, impatient for him to release some of the tension he'd just coiled her into. He bit her hip lightly then looked up, that familiar intense gaze boring into her as their eyes met. His eyes refused to release hers as he slowly, agonizingly, moved his head down and settled his mouth on her core. Like the rest of his exploration he maintained a slow pace, savoring the moment. Elizabeth melted under his care but wanted more.
She pawed at the bedside table, managing to grab a condom before she tugged his head up by the hair. "I want you inside me."
He groaned and gave her one more gentle kiss before shifting upward. He hooked her legs over his shoulders as he rose to his knees and put on the condom. "Oh, Elizabeth!" He cried out as he entered her. He seemed determined maintain his lazy Saturday morning pace. His eyes roamed the same path that his lips had taken and his gaze felt like a ghost of past caresses.
She lifted her arms up to his neck, threading her fingers through his hair and causing him to look back into her eyes. His eyes softened when they met hers again – or was she just recognizing more of the emotion? His gaze was as intense and focused as it always had been, full of lust and desire, but now she also saw a tenderness behind them as well. "Lizzie," he whimpered, raising his hand and caressing her cheek. "You're so beautiful."
Elizabeth fought down a sudden stroke of panic about his feelings – and perhaps a bit about hers as well. This was temporary. This was casual. This was ending tomorrow. They had no future. She closed her eyes and focused on the rhythm, the friction, the heat between them. She focused on the mind-blowing sex, the draw they had on each other, the animal magnetism. That was real. That effected her – not some deeper emotional connection that Fitzwilliam had imagined.
She could feel that he was starting to struggle to maintain his languid pace, so she spurred him on: "Faster, Will!"
With a grunt he quickened his pace. She moved to start stimulating herself, but he grabbed her hand and kissed it. "Allow me, dearest." His nimble fingers began to work their magic as his thrusts lost their measured tempo and became more frenzied. Her pleasure increased and she was nearing her peak when he commanded, "open your eyes, love." When she complied that heat and intensity in his eyes spurred her on. "I love watching your passion, your fire," he moaned, pressing harder on her clit.
"God, Will!" She cried as she reached her climax.
"Oh, Lizzie!" He echoed as he came with her, "Lizzie!"
Darcy gave her one last lingering kiss before shifting to the side, aware that her legs were probably tired from maintaining that position for so long. He took off the condom and laid back down beside her, pulling her close and allowing the contentment to seep into him. This morning had been truly spectacular. Waking up with Elizabeth in his arms felt so perfect and right that he wanted to do so every morning.
He tightened his arms around her as he remembered that she would be leaving him tomorrow. They had a deep connection. He loved her more than he'd ever realized was possible, the deep, fulfilling love that the poets and Charlie Bingley and similarly emotional people talked about but William Darcy had always assumed was hyperbole. When she wasn't near he physically ached from wanting her – probably brought on by tension and stress without her soothing presence, but a physical reaction nonetheless. It would be madness to let this go. After this week, he couldn't imagine returning to a life without her smiles, her laughing eyes, her passion and liveliness.
There was nothing for it, he would have to convince her to move to London. It would have to be tonight, before she slipped out of his grasp again. She was stubborn and adverse to change, so he would have to do something spectacular, show her what life here could be like. "Elizabeth," he asked as a vague plan formed, "would you go to the opera with me tonight?" It would be perfect, they could drive into London, use the family box at the Royal Opera House, then she could stay at his home and see where she would live.
"Ugh!" Elizabeth groaned – not the reaction Darcy was hoping for. "Could we be a bit less Pretty Woman about this situation? I mean, you've already put me up in this hotel for the week, do we really have to do the whole opera shtick as well?"
It took Darcy a moment to place her reference and when he did he gave a horrified gasp, "you are not a whore, Elizabeth!" It came out sterner than intended, but the very idea offended him.
"True, but lets not do anything that will emphasize our differences, ok?"
He sighed, realizing that grand gestures probably wouldn't be welcome. "I just wanted to show you London before you had to leave."
"Well," she said hesitantly, "I will actually have a chance to see London, I'm visiting Jane next week before flying back."
"What?" He asked, his heart beating faster at the prospect that they had more time. "Why didn't you say?"
"Well, initially I was mad at you," she said with a stern look that quickly faded into her habitual playfulness, "then Fitzwilliam told me you'd be here for two weeks, so I figured it didn't matter."
"Plans can change, Elizabeth," he said, pinching his nose and creating a mental checklist of everything that would need to be done to depart Rosings tomorrow with Elizabeth instead of the following Friday.
"I don't want you to upset your schedule – not to mention your Aunt – for me."
"I would gladly risk Lady Catherine's displeasure for another week with you, Love." She blushed slightly but rolled her eyes and reached for her phone.
"Shit, I'm supposed to meet Charlotte and Anne in fifteen minutes, we're taking a scenic drive to see some of the countryside," she said as she slipped out of his grasp and began hastily getting ready.
"I wish I could join you, but I have some loose ends to tie up."
"You seriously don't have to change your plans for me," she said and he appreciated her consideration for his schedule and his time.
"Nevertheless, I will. Some things are worth it, Elizabeth."
She sat back down on the bed to pull on her shoes and turned to give him a quick kiss. "Let's talk about it tonight, alright?" She seemed a bit flustered as she hopped up and grabbed her purse, but Darcy supposed that was to be expected when running late. Watching her disappear through the door, he resolved that he would still make his proposal tonight. That way they could make plans while they were in London.
Charlotte grumbled as she went to answer her door, pulling on a loose shirt and a pair of pajama pants. Anne scrambled to put her pajamas back on as well.
"Lizzie, we weren't supposed to meet for another hour, what are you doing here?" She asked, taking in her friend's haphazard appearance.
"I'm Freaking out," Elizabeth said pushing her way in as Anne tried to tidy her appearance from the bed.
"What did he do?" Anne asked.
"He invited me to the Opera!"
"That bastard!" Charlotte replied sarcastically.
"And he wants to change his plans so he can be in London with me next week."
"This surprises you?" Anne asked, "I mean, mummy won't like it but Darcy hasn't paid much attention to her this last week anyway."
Lizzie got up and started pacing. "I think Darcy likes me."
"You think?" Charlotte snorted, snuggling back into Anne's side.
"No, I mean he likes me likes me."
"What is this, middle school?"
"What's she saying, I can't read her lips when she's moving like that," Anne asked in frustration, causing Lizzie to apologize and sit nervously on the foot of the bed.
Charlotte turned toward her, "Lizzie is just now figuring out that Darcy has feelings for her."
"What?" Anne shouted in shock, "how could you miss that the guy is totally in love with you? Even I can see that and I was practically raised without social interaction."
"Ladies, what am I going to do?" Lizzie said, flopping dramatically on the bed.
"What do you want to do?" Charlotte asked, amused.
"Fuck if I know," Lizzie moaned.
Notes: I'm really sorry to do this to you guys (especially since you can probably guess where next chapter is headed), but I'm going to be traveling for the next couple of weeks. I'm not sure when the next update will be but I promise I won't abandon you.
Since this story is super kink-positive, I feel that I should note that I'm not trying to be anti-sex-worker with Darcy's 'whore' comment, it just feels like the way Darcy would respond to that comparison.
