Chapter 89

She finds him in the stall of his black horse, stroking the smooth flanks, deeply disturbed.

'Do you blame me?' he asks when she stands right next to him, one arm around him and the other stroking his beautiful face.

'I was a bit worried for you, but blame you, no. You had reasons. Remember, we didn't even invite him.'

'But you wouldn't have kicked him out. I haven't been this angry for years, since Wickham, frankly, and I don't like it. I feel childish, resentful. I've had such bouts of jealousy these last few months, it's as if I'm turning into a nasty, vengeful shade of who I want to be. Letting you do the dirty work. It's the old Darcy come back, my dearest, and I'm afraid you'll not be able to love him. I'm afraid he doesn't deserve to be loved.'

Well, it's almost as if he is with child and over-sensitive! Suddenly a thought strikes her. It's the jealousy, he hates feeling like that but he cannot help it. That helplessness is causing this, not foolish Mr Collins. It's time for one of those episodes, for him to let everything go for a an hour, let someone else be in charge. What can she do to tease him out of this state? Indulge him? But she doesn't want to be mean to him, she wants to spoil him and make much of him. Maybe it's not too late, yet, if she says the right thing, maybe it can still be averted.

'I liked browbeating my cousin. I have disliked him from the first, and it felt great to deliver him to Charlotte. Remember I offered to do that? And how you faced the overwrought spouse? You're not vengeful, my love, and you're certainly not a child. You're in fact a very masculine, very handsome man. Do you want to sit down in that empty stall at the very end and make out a little?'

Her hand has moved towards his thigh once more, without the cover of a shawl this time.

He looks her over, not with lust, but practicality. His voice sounds normal, but his eyes beg to differ. It's very close, his next episode. Then he has decided.

'Yes! I really, really want to sit in the straw and be with you.' And with a final pat he leaves the black's stall, leading Elizabeth out and closing the door behind her.

But instead of to the empty stall, he moves towards the carriage standing in its usual place, then rummages under the box seat. Pulling out a woollen blanket, he scrutinises it, then observes, 'Hmm, I'd hoped this would protect your dress from whatever is in that stall, but it's obviously been used outside in all kinds of weather. It needs a thorough washing. Come, let's look inside.'

That is good, that is very good, he is taking the initiative, leading her. All is not yet lost. Inside the carriage are several cleaner blankets, and they take those along to the last stall. It's hardly ever used for horses, and Bob has taken to keeping a few bales of straw there, to save himself a cold, wet walk to the storage-shed each morning before dawn.

Elizabeth has eyed it before on their daily trips to the stable to go riding, it looks just perfect for trysting. Unfortunately it's not exactly what ladies and gentlemen are supposed to do, make out in a stables, but today feels different. They need to do something exciting and forbidden, to put the emphasis within their marriage back where it belongs, on the love that binds them, not on what society makes of it.

Hand still over hers, her beloved leads her to the stall, the front is almost entirely filled up with bales, but they climb over them and find a nice little space behind the stack. It's covered in loose straw, and there is no smell besides the general odour of straw, hay and horse that suffuses everything in a stables. It's just perfect, if Bob and Fanny weren't so perfectly decent, Elizabeth would suspect the former of having made this little love-nest on purpose. Well, maybe he did, all engaged couples like to sneak kisses and caresses at times.

Checking out the back of the straw-stack she is certain at once this is not a coincidence, it's shaped like a recliner but slightly broader, with just enough space for two people to sit side by side and do some serious snuggling.

But for their own purpose, Elizabeth soon wishes it weren't so perfect. She expected them to rip at each other's clothes and do some fevered kissing and petting, then lie down for some serious lovemaking on one of those blankets. The sight of a perfect two seater has a wholly different effect on her beloved. He drapes the blanket over it, though it seems perfectly smooth, it must see regular use, then invites Elizabeth to sit down on it. She doesn't want to, the look in his eyes presages danger, she wants him to grab her and take her, not worship her. The image of Mr Collins kneeling before his dear Charlotte is still too vivid, she does not want to see Fitzwilliam in the same situation, tempting her sense of the ridiculous. But she cannot refuse her beloved either, not when he practically exudes his need. Oh, bother, now she's in for it. Well, she knew it was coming, could see it coming for weeks, there is just nothing she can do to stop it, unless they move to Pemberley forever, or better still, to a little cabin on the moors with no-one around for miles in every direction.

As he leads his beloved away from the box to grab a few cleaner blankets inside, Darcy knows what's coming. He also knows it'll disconcert Elizabeth to see him this way, and she has been so calm throughout, even though it concerned her most of all. The realisation that his humble moods burden his beloved makes him feel guilty, and he tries his very best to control himself. Maybe a little romp in a bed of straw will make the difference, it will be exciting at the very least.

Another four days and they'll be all by themselves, on their way to a picturesque little guest house at the seaside. Easy enough for Fitzwilliam to say it'll improve Darcy's connections to stay with the local Colonel, an acquaintance of uncle Spencer's, but Darcy has to have his beloved all to himself for a few hours each day. He cannot bear to be dressed up all day, breakfasting with the family and making friends with the local gentlemen's wives and daughters in the evenings when he will be spending most of his days with the officers already, trying to get Wickham into the rifles. No, the mornings and evenings will be theirs and theirs alone, as will the trip over. If Bob doesn't want his fiancée travelling with him on the box, they'll hire a local maid for Elizabeth. It's better if she doesn't look the part of the London icon of fashion anyway, it will only cause all of them to look at her with longing, trying to claim her time and her attention. Darcy has to bear plenty of that at home.

Arriving at the last stall, it looks like a bit of a climb to get inside, the bales of straw are stacked at least four high, though Bob has already used a few on the sides, accidentally making an excellent set of stairs. Accidentally? No way! This is meant to be climbed by someone in long skirts. Naughty Bob!

Of course Elizabeth barely needs his assistance, and if so, only because she's wearing inconvenient skirts. She's nimble enough, his prize, his perfect little lady. Look at her, she's worrying over him, he'll show her there is nothing to worry about. Darcy knows she is his, knows his jealousy is undeserved and useless. And he'll get the better of it, he will! It may take a little longer in London, but his mind has always been in control of his feelings. Eventually he will triumph.

But when they descend into the stall and find the little seat made out of straw bales, his feelings prove him wrong by taking over completely. As Elizabeth studies this sweet little love-nest, knowing with certainty who made it, Darcy spreads the blankets over the straw sofa, though it looks perfectly clean. Bob would never allow his divine Fanny getting smudged.

Bob doesn't seem to be jealous of Fanny at all, though she really is beautiful and he is rather plain. And by now her professional success is very much on the rise, whereas he is a little stuck at the moment, his pride and joy, the thoroughbreds, in the care of another. Maybe Darcy should ask him how he copes with feelings of envy and jealousy, he must have them.

Elizabeth lets him lead her to sit on the little seat readily enough, but it's easy to see this is not what she expects or wants. And that's the last straw, he can't help himself anymore, he knows he is asking too much, but she loves him, she'll forgive him for this. She is so beautiful, there is such strength in her, how she offered to deal with her cousin, how she made a joke to spare her companions the embarrassment when his legacy for her caused her to cry.

'I'm sorry, my love, I can't stop it, it's too strong.'

It's so good to be sitting in this snug little hideout, dark, cramped, smelling of horse and clean straw, his head in her lap. Certainly, he doesn't dare look up for fear of seeing Elizabeth displeased or even hurt, but he will hope for the best and steal this moment from her. If she cannot cope, he'll deal with it later.

For now his beloved doesn't seem to mind very much, she has not pushed him away or begged him to get up. When she strokes his hair gently he notices he was holding his breath in suspense, and now he dares to let go of all his negative feelings and just sit there a little longer.

Nothing happens to disturb their peace, the hand stroking his hair now includes his cheek and his neck, and finally he dares to look up. To find Elizabeth looking down at him with as much admiration and love as with which he looks up at her. When their eyes meet, a smile lights up her beautiful features. A diverted smile, she is laughing at him!

'That is quite a relief, my love. My cousin sat like this at his dear Charlotte's feet not even an hour ago, and I was so afraid I'd respect you less for having that memory so fresh in my mind. But there was no need for fear, you are such a handsome man, and I admire and love you so much, there is no comparison. He looked like a fat puppy, you look like a prince. My prince.'

She bends down towards him, takes a firm hold of his jaws, then kisses him with ardour until they both gasp for breath.

As soon as that is done, she kisses him again, and directs him towards the straw-covered ground. There is no blanket to keep their clothes clean, but neither of them cares, there are more important things than clean clothes. Lying on the straw with his love looming over him isn't bad either, especially since she's still holding his jaws in a surprisingly strong grip for those elegant little hands of hers.

One of those hands now takes hold of his neck, the other explores his whole face with caresses and the occasional tickle, alternated with kisses and even some little bites. He does not reciprocate but rather submits to her touch, not really trying to find out whether that is her intention. After his face, she moves on to his throat, caressing it, slowly undoing button after button, kissing his bare chest wherever it is exposed. Her voice is soft, affected, as she speaks for the first time in minutes.

'Last time you were like this, my love, I was angry with you. Now I feel only love. You are so cute and loveable when you're helpless, I don't want to be mean to you. But I don't think I need to be to give you what you ache for, I think this is enough.'

And that is true, he'd prefer her to be really bossy, but if this is what she can give without going beyond what is comfortable to her, it is enough to give him that special feeling of being safe with her.

She has loosened his trousers as well, and with some expert manipulation of her own skirts he feels her sitting down right on top of him, very tantalizing and good, but he cannot take the initiative as he'd usually do. He merely enjoys the warm feeling, and her caresses, until she gets it. He receives a little nudge in his side, and a kind rejoinder.

'Come on, Mr Lazy, you have to work for your keep, you know!'

She knows he's ticklish! The nudge causes him to heave up, and that is exactly what she wants him to do, of course, she groans a bit excessively and comments, 'Just like that, yes. And again, you're not done yet!'

Another nudge, and he gives it another go, but no more, he will be lazy until she puts him to work. A light in her eyes says she has taken up the challenge, maybe he can get her to be bossy without realising it.

And it works, though the price is high. She knows him so well, and she is an experienced rider by now, the two combining to a few minutes of ecstasy mingled with torture, as his beloved gets him to give her what she wants by removing most of her weight from his stomach, and tickling him mercilessly in his sensitive sides, causing him to heave and buck under her.

Before he can beg for mercy, she stops tickling him, sits back down firmly and observes dryly, 'I suppose that is not what I had in mind, I don't mind teasing you but it mustn't become abusive. I'll have to get my due some other way.'

Bending down towards him she kisses him lovingly, then gets up resolutely and sits back on the straw seat. It's a bit disappointing to no longer be connected to his beloved, but frankly that is his own fault, trying to get her to order him around a little.

'I suppose if I want you, I'd better give you what you want first, my love. I cannot refuse you anything, anyway. So you'd better get back up on your knees, and be quick about it for I'm starting to lose patience.'

Yes. No laziness in this man, whatsoever. Within a minute he's back where he aches to be, and gets his kisses and caresses, and then she lifts her skirt and gestures what he is to do next. His beloved likes that, well, that's no wonder for he also likes it very much when she does that to him, but not now. Now he may lose himself in her, still on his knees, touching her most intimate place until she tells him what to do next.

She lets him stay there for a very long time, tension draining from him, his love and his ardour growing until he really has to hold himself back with all his formidable self-control. This is how it should be, to forget everything in one big rush of feelings. When he has felt the third deep shudder run through her, she starts to understand he will go on until she tells him to stop or do something different, he's happy just where he is.

This time her hands tell him what to do, they take hold of his arms and pull him upright and towards her. One guides him, the other holds his neck to keep his mouth within reach of her kisses.

'Since we're going to spend a lot of time in Wickham's company the next few weeks, my love, I want you to be strong and free of doubt. So do as I say and let it out, all the ardour I can see in your eyes, and in the way you hold yourself. Give it to me, all of it.'

He lets go of his control.

Afterwards, this time, she does not feel bad about acting her part, she's very affectionate, kissing him and running her hand across his back with long strokes.

'You're such a magnificent specimen. Feel better?'

'Much better. Thank you.' It's easy to lie on the thick layers of straw and talk.

'I'm working on it, my love, the jealousy, the resentment. It's not who I want to be.'

'Didn't we conclude one time in the past that every character has a shade? I love you with or without yours, Fitzwilliam. I like the way you got me to do what you wanted with humour. And I have a feeling that resisting your need only makes it stronger. Humour makes it better. We'll find a solution, and until we do, this isn't so bad. I can't wait to be alone, with our hair barely decent, and our clothes mismatched. And no-one to make a fuss about it.'

'Well, I've arranged things so we can be together most of the time, but we'll have to visit some connections of my uncle's, Colonel Drummond. We cannot afford to insult him by ignoring him, he's the one who can make or break our brother-in-law's career. And he and his friends, and their wives most of all, read the society pages.'

'I know. We've let something out of its cage and now it will keep pestering us. But it's not that bad, really. I have kind of gotten used to being nice to people. It gets easier with practice, don't you think?'

'It does, my dearest. Ever since you convinced me I really needed to be nicer to people, I've tried my best, and it does get easier. Also, it has its own reward. People are nicer to me, too. And I have you.'

The silly thing is, that what had built up over a few weeks, is now gone. Darcy seriously cannot remember the neediness, the insecurity, the jealousy. And his beloved is right in one thing: he will need all the calm he can gather around him, for Wickham will be a nuisance worse than Mr Collins. Or will he?

'Not counting their actual misdeed, Elizabeth, who is the worst company? Your cousin or Wickham?'

'My cousin, love. Wickham is actually quite entertaining. I bet he has plenty of interesting tales to tell, especially if we can get him to talk about your father. If you can handle what you'll hear, that'll be very enlightening, he knew a totally different man. I liked hearing Wickham talk about his time in the army. Mr Collins hasn't said anything worth hearing in his entire life.

And Wickham has some very interesting insights in the situation with France. I could stand to listen to him for a few hours. But only if you can bear it, if you want me to, I'll avoid him. I do not want you kissing my stockings at your uncle's connections' dining-table.'

Since she says this laughing, he retorts with humour.

'No chance, Elizabeth. Wickham will not be invited there, he's just a lowly ensign.'

'Are you certain? He is related by marriage to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, you know. Even if it's several times removed.'

'You are the most precious thing in the world, Elizabeth Darcy, and you're all mine.'

Staying with the Blackwood family, Anne decides to take things one step further with nearly all her new acquaintances tomorrow. They are sitting on Sophie's bed in the room where the three of them sleep together, a girl's dream in pink, with frills everywhere, and more embroidered cushions and dainty knick-knacks than a truly sensible person should own. But they're good natured, sweet girls, and if Mr Manners is right, they are seeking entertainment in places that would seriously harm their reputation if someone were to find out.

'Angelina and Sophie, what would you say to paying our respects to my cousin Mr Darcy and his wife tomorrow morning? I'm pretty sure his sister will be there, with the adored Mr Fielding. You can get acquainted with them, maybe even hear them play. No-one outside the family circle has ever heard Miss Darcy play.'

Sophie nearly faints.

'You'd do that for us? Mr Fielding? Really? You think he'd talk to us?'

'You've been so nice to me, I feel I should repay your kindness with what I have to offer. And that is a connection to your favourite pianist.'

'We'd love to, Anne,' Angelina says, 'I know we offered to take you to some really exciting places, but I'm afraid we cannot rival the honour of meeting Mr Fielding in person. He is so beautiful! Did he really write that stunning music for your cousin? She's beautiful, too, they look like a god and his goddess.'

'He does write music for dear Georgiana. He's actually very nice, a very friendly man. And my cousin is also very kind, almost shy. They would both certainly talk to you. If they are in when we visit, I cannot guarantee it.'

That's settled then, she'll send a boy over to let them know they're coming. Sophie and Angelina will be so happy, and after this they'll take Anne with them wherever they go. For herself she hopes to have the opportunity to talk privately with Elizabeth for a few minutes, and to meet Mr Manners again and see if she can catch him in a weak moment. She is starting to doubt the admiration she saw in him, he is very kind and seems eager to please her, but he has not tried to visit her or even talk to her outside their normal interaction. The man's mind is as complicated as his appearance is simple.

'You'll have to come with us on our next excursion then, Anne,' Angelina offers.

'I'd love to, Angelina. What are you planning to do?'

Angelina thinks for a moment, then replies, 'I think we'll go to a dance first, right, Sophie? Start small, and build it up later? Can you dance, Anne?'

'I can,' Anne replies, but she doesn't really feel the certainty she expresses. She has had lessons of course, but it has been some time, and she fears she still doesn't have the energy to keep it up for long. Walking is fine, but dancing? It's not something she likes to confess to her friends, but they have already seen her doubt.

'When you get tired, you can sit out a few dances. We'll have someone keep an eye you so no-one will bother you.'

That doesn't sound very comforting, but she can always try dancing before they go out, it will be a good reason to call on Mr Manners, it's not impolite to ask him for assistance, after all he has more or less told her he'd take her under his wings for the duration of her visit. Maybe she can repay him with a little information.

'And if I may ask, what are we building up towards?' she asks nonchalantly.

Both girls laugh heartily, and Angelina offers, 'Well, we've been to dances before, and to a strange little circus just outside of town. Very old and creepy, almost sad. But that's no fun in winter, we'll take you there in summer.'

Sophie continues.

'A month ago, we took Maria and Leonora to the Execution Dock to see a hanging. It was so exciting! First we saw the condemned men on a large cart, I think they were pirates, they sure looked like they were, their leader was a ravishingly handsome man but clearly bad to the bone. One other was as black as the night, his skin, too! The whites of his eyes and his teeth were the only things not black about him. We followed the cart with the convicts and saw the executioners there with them. And there was a man in a carriage, and some on horseback, very official. Nick told us who they are were, but I forgot.'

Nick is one of the servants they take everywhere, the girls' familiarity towards him rather unsettling to Anne. He is in his twenties, very burly and self-assured and not at all bad-looking for a low-born servant. And Anne must admit he seems to be quite devoted to his mistresses.

The girls now tell her exactly how the hanging proceeded, they were in the middle of the crowd, in their finery, with just Nick and three more menservants to protect them. Apparently it didn't bother the girls at all to see three men die rather horribly, and the crowd cheering them on.

'Nick didn't like it much, said to be ready to leave if the mood turned ugly. He has a weapon, you know, but he keeps it hidden beneath his livery. We know exactly what to do if he needs to use it, he'll clear a path and we follow, the other servants guarding our back. But when the pirates had died, everyone just went away.'

Angelina sounds as if she still regrets that. Sophie seems a bit milder of character, she happily changes the subject, and they proceed to tell her more about the dances.

'We go to a different part of town, Nick says it's decidedly lower class, but we're safe because people don't know who we are. We wear different dresses, you see, and we talk like them. Nick has some kind of soft cudgel hidden in his clothes, he and the other servants also wear common clothes, not livery. We take one servant for each one of us, that's the safest, and of course that way we always have partners to dance with. It keeps them loyal, you know, really liking us, Nick would fight a lion to protect us. Though we also know other nice men there, we dance with them often.

Then our servants still keep an eye on us, but of course they have to dance with the local girls or they'll find out we're not of their kind.'

That is even worse than she thought! Manners has piqued her curiosity immensely by more or less suggesting that what those girls are doing is in violation of common decency for young girls, but what they have told her so far must exceed his worst fears. Still, Anne wants to be part of it, though rather as a kind of neutral observer than as participant.

'It's so exciting, Anne, you'll love it!' Sophie exclaims.

'We'll start with one of those dances, and when you're used to wearing one of those different dresses, and taking heed of what Nick says, he insists we do that or it would be dangerous, we'll take you on our next trip. We're planning to visit a madhouse, Maria's maid's uncle works there, and Maria has promised to get us in.'

Well, that does it. She'd better keep eating as well as she does now, or the least bit of anxiety will cause her to faint. And to be carried back to their carriage by some cudgel-bearing servant is not Anne's idea of a day well-spent. Still it may be best to talk to Mr Manners before going on one of these trips, he may not like her risking her respectability like that, though he did introduce her to the Blackwood girls, and by now she is certain not in ignorance of what they are doing. She trusts he is not trying to get her into trouble, she really is convinced he expects her to save those girls from dangerous pleasures and have some fun herself in the meantime. And depending on what Angelina and Sophie mean by taking heed of their servant, Anne is willing to take a little risk to spy for Mr Manners. It cannot do harm to build up some credit with such a respected man.