A/N: Back to Netherfield one last time (maybe).
Wade
"AAHHHNNNGGG!"
Elizabeth Bennet's eyes snapped opened as she emitted a muffled scream in panic. It took a few seconds to realize her shoulder was being shaken lightly rather than torn off by a bear, and she actually heard, "Miss Elizabeth, pray wake up," rather than a menacing growl.
Her fourth night at Netherfield should have been more restful than the earlier ones spent mostly taking care of her sister Jane, but the short nights in her sister's room, alternating with the disagreeable company left her tired and bad tempered. Waking up in the dead of night when she believed Jane fully recovered added to her panic.
With her wits barely recovered, she looked to her companion in confusion, wondering why a servant was not sent to awaken her—not that she expected it would have worked out any better.
Her confusion complete, she belatedly asked, "Mr Darcy? What is happening?" with a voice far closer to a squeak than she might prefer.
Her companion shushed her to demand silence. "Miss Elizabeth, I need your help on a matter of utmost importance. If we do not act immediately, it will have a profound effect on your family's respectability and will do mine no good either."
Almost fully succumbing to panic, she demanded, "I do not understand. What could you possibly mean?"
Looking shocked, her companion said, "Minutes ago, I observed your sister entering my room. I can only assume she intends to force a compromise."
The fog of sleep cleared almost immediately, but several nights with little rest still left Elizabeth not really thinking clearly.
"I cannot believe that of Jane. It is impossible!"
"Not to put too fine a point on it, but how old is your sister? How long has she been in society? How close is she to being on the dreaded shelf? Whose idea was it for her to come on horseback in the rain, and if she did not take credit for it, can you be certain she did not encourage the scheme?"
Elizabeth just stared in horror at the machinations her companion imagined for her sweetest sister, but she did have to admit there was a certain amount of panic setting in about the Bennet's marital prospects. It was possible Jane thought seven years was long enough to wait for her perfect man and decided rich and handsome was good enough. She could not believe it—but could not entirely disprove the thesis without speaking to Jane. She could also not answer to why Mr Darcy would be chosen over the obviously more malleable Mr Bingley; but facts were facts and Mr Darcy saw what he saw.
Panic was well and truly setting in. "What do you suggest?"
"Let us rescue Miss Bennet before she ruins your whole family. I am obviously not in the room, but just being caught there alone would ruin her reputation. Let us go together. I will stand guard while you quietly talk Miss Bennet out of the room with none the wiser."
Elizabeth started feeling slightly suspicious. "Why are you taking charge personally? Why help us from our own folly? For that matter, are you not courting compromise right now?"
He gave a mirthless chuckle. "As to your first question, a compromise would hurt my sister almost as much as yours, and harming five innocents cannot be borne," he said stridently, then in a whisper, "As to the latter, if I am to be attached to a Bennet sister, let it be the one I like instead of the one I despise."
Despite being scared fully awake, Elizabeth was still not thinking as clearly as she hoped, but the problem seemed simple enough. Disregarding the obvious flattery that he liked her better than the pernicious Jane, she had work to do. Apparently, Jane was tired of waiting. She had endured a dozen suitors over seven years in society, most of whom abandoning her when they spent any time in the presence of Mrs Bennet. Perhaps Jane was desperate.
Elizabeth signalled for her companion to turn around so she could get out of bed and put on her dressing gown. It was at least properly modest, unlike the diaphanous concoction Mrs Bennet sent Jane—not that her clothing would matter if she was caught wandering the halls with Mr Darcy in the middle of the night. Imagining Jane wandering around in her own room wearing the ridiculous garb just about made Elizabeth shiver, and that was without even considering Mr Darcy.
With panic setting in, she put on her slippers and stood up. "Lead the way, good sir."
Elizabeth approached Mr Darcy's door like a prisoner walking to the gallows, but her companion said, "Courage, Miss Elizabeth. It will all be over soon."
She had, of course checked Jane's room to be certain it was empty, just in case Mr. Darcy was mistaken, or Jane had abandoned the quest when she found her victim absent. No such luck!
She was so embarrassed by what was passing she could barely look at him, but she certainly had to admit he was acting as a true gentleman—contrary to prior expectations. He was taking considerable risk wandering around with her at night without any sort of chaperone just to protect Jane, who obviously deserved no such consideration. Given the gossipy nature of servants, it was the only way to get Jane out unscathed, but the man was still taking a big risk with little chance of reward.
They were about twenty paces from his door when she gasped as a footman stepped out from a hidden alcove. Mr Darcy stepped right up beside her and seemed ready to berate the man, but she dissuaded him by lightly touching his hand… much to both their surprises.
She forestalled him by speaking directly with what Darcy privately thought was a more scolding tone than the delicate situation called for.
"Joseph James Mason! What are you doing skulking around in the middle of the night?"
The man, if he could be considered as such when he was clearly no more than eighteen, replied with a cringe as he might to a mother's scolding. "Apologies, Miss Lizzy. Miss Bennet asked me to stay here and watch for trouble."
"And this was enough to make you disregard your normal duties?"
The boy looked sheepish. "Well… It was Miss Bennet. She could not be involved in anything improper," more emphatically than Elizabeth liked.
"And is that your only reason?"
The boy ducked his head and finally mumbled, "She gave me half a crown. That moves me two months closer to wedding Jenny."
Elizabeth sighed in resignation and turned to Darcy who was watching impassively. "Jenny is the daughter of a tenant. They have been sweethearts since before the flood. Joseph is trying to save enough to wed."
Looking much more enthusiastic, Joseph added, "My brother found me a position in town, but I need more of the ready before I can afford to go," he enthused.
His countenance turned sheepish. "Sorry, Miss Lizzy… now that you mention it, something does not seem right."
Elizabeth wondered how in the world to keep the boy quiet since he was as much a gossip as Sir William.
Darcy said, "Is it Joseph?" much to the startlement of his companions who were studiously ignoring him.
The two squared off suspiciously, and Elizabeth decided to help the impasse. "You can trust Mr Darcy."
Darcy looked at her in what looked like surprise but turned his attention back to his adversary. "Joseph… I do not have it on my person at the moment, but would ten crowns be enough to facilitate your wedding on a more… auspicious… time frame?"
Joseph gasped in surprise, though he did not understand much beyond the words 'wedding' and 'ten crowns.'
"Yes, sir. That would… a…"
"Facilitate… it means to assist," Darcy said with surprisingly gentle instruction in Elizabeth's opinion.
"Yes sir. With that, I could do it straightaway."
Darcy got to the crux of the matter. "By straightaway, might you mean tomorrow… as in… you would leave at first light?"
Seeing the drift of the conversation, the boy nodded vigorously, "I could leave… ahh…" He looked around a few minutes and continued, "… ahh… now?"
Darcy clapped him on the back with a hearty chuckle, much to Elizabeth's shock. "Good man. I knew you would understand. Now, I would assume an engaged man needs his sleep… meaning he goes to bed at sunset before his wedding day."
Joseph laughed heartily before catching himself. "I cannot say, since I went to bed at sunset myself."
Elizabeth laughed. "You were never here, Joseph."
"No ma'am. Never here."
He started to turn away, and Mr Darcy halted him a moment. Much to Elizabeth's surprise he took a card from his pocket and wrote on it for a minute using the same sort of pencil she used for dance cards.
He handed the card to Joseph. "Speak to your bride in the morning, then take the post to town. Go to Darcy House in Berkley Square, ask for the butler and hand him the card. He will give you your eleven crowns, and any other assistance you require.
Blushing, the man thanked him half a dozen times, then skipped off to either go to bed, or more likely sneak out to visit his sweetheart.
Once Joseph was out of earshot, Elizabeth observed, "Well, there was Jane's witness. I suspect he was supposed to do something other than stand around he was unwilling to admit to, but your generosity blunted that axe."
She was surprised when he chuckled. "Ten crowns are little enough to part with, and I like the boy. I bear him no ill will. Your sister puts on such a good act I might be inclined to help her myself if asked.
Elizabeth frowned. "I have loved and admired her all my life. She has either gone entirely out of character, or she is the best actress who ever lived."
Darcy shrugged. "I suppose we will know soon enough," and Elizabeth wondered why the word 'we' sounded appealing, even though a few hours before she might have thrown salt over her shoulder at the mere mention of Mr Darcy and herself in the same sentence.
With a sigh, she asked, "Shall we get the miserable chore over with?"
With a nod, Darcy offered his entirely superfluous arm, and she took it without real thought, thinking that whatever the gentleman though of her, they were now partners in crime of sorts.
As they approached the gentleman's door, they both startled when they heard the squeak of a door hinge. It was probably not so very loud, but in the stillness of the night, both panicked and turned to make a mad dash back down the hall, both thinking that switching a compromise with Miss Jane Bennet to a compromise with Miss Elizabeth Bennet would not be considered much of an improvement.
A dozen panicked steps later, they both careened around the corner of the servant's alcove Joseph had hidden out in. Darcy ducked to the very back of the alcove and found a small cabinet full of assorted housewares over a work counter. He quickly stuffed the candle inside, closed the door and was satisfied no light escaped. Then in a panic, he pulled Miss Elizabeth close enough to make the pair nearly invisible to whoever was walking down the hall.
Elizabeth found herself manhandled not even a foot in front of Mr Darcy; but since all her attention was to the circle of candlelight approaching the corner, she could not be overly fastidious about it. The fact that Mr Darcy was going out of his way to save the bad Bennet was more than enough to recommend him. She was therefore not overly concerned—much to her surprise—when she finally got a moment to think about it later.
They almost held their breaths as the circle of light approached, then she found herself cringing in close enough to put her head against his chest while attempting to make herself as invisible as possible.
Fortunately, their nemesis was looking neither left nor right, and in only a few seconds, he passed, and the circle of light started receding.
Filled with curiosity, Elizabeth jumped away from the man who had served as a more than adequate impromptu pillow, then took his hand to drag him to the corner.
As the partners in crime looked on, she whispered, "Where in the world is Mr Hurst going at this time of night?"
She could sense rather than see or feel Mr Darcy shrug, so they continued to stare at his retreating back. A minute or so later, the question was answered when the man paused at a door to a stairwell, then quickly entered. The last bits of light from the Hurst candle were cut off when the door closed, plunging them into total darkness. It only lasted a moment though as Mr Darcy went directly back to the cupboard. The moment he opened it, the still lit candle lit up the alcove, and they could once again see each other.
She whispered, "I suppose that explains that."
Darcy raised an eyebrow in query in a manner Elizabeth thought he must have stolen from her. "That explains what exactly? I admit that I probably know what is happening but am surprised you do."
She huffed in annoyance. "I am a maiden, Mr Darcy… but I am neither stupid nor ignorant."
He looked chagrined but not particularly repentant. "Care to explain?"
"Certainly. You, being a gentleman …" she started, but paused a moment at the words, which not only would have been difficult to get out of her mouth a few hours previously but would have had trouble even forming in her mind. On reflection though, she thought that his actions of the evening had proven him to be exactly as asserted. She blithely continued, while hoping he did not notice the pause.
He had noticed the pause but put it down to her maidenly embarrassment about the upcoming discussion of Mr Hurst and put it from his mind. "Go on."
"… as a gentleman, you would be reluctant to inform a maiden that he is probably going to the servant's attics to perform a bit of… business… likely with May Williams, who sells her favours rather freely… and profitably."
She thought the assertion should put her to the blush, but considering their evening's mission, she did not really have it in her.
Darcy cleared his throat, clearly disconcerted, and simply said, "Yes… most houses have one or two maids who supplement their income that way. It seems a risky undertaking, but…" and then realizing what territory he was entering, he thought to just let it be.
"Be at ease, Mr Darcy. I may be sheltered, but I am not entirely unaware of how the world works."
Not quite knowing what to do with his embarrassment, he said, "Yes… well… shall we."
"Of course."
Once again, Elizabeth approached the lion's den on the arm of Darcy. That time they got all the way to the door and stood there long enough for Darcy to start to open it when the squeak of yet another door opening sounded just down the hall. With double gasps, they once again turned to fly back to their protected alcove. Unfortunately, their flight was fast enough to blow out their candle. By the time Darcy got to the back of the alcove, he slammed into the back wall hard enough to make him mutter a rather ungentlemanlike curse under his breath. The word alone would probably have made Miss Elizabeth blush if she was not entirely too busy bashing into his chest like a battering ram, having thoroughly misjudged the depth of the alcove.
Not wanting the smoke to give them away, Darcy pinched the smoking wick off with his fingers, and barely suppressed another curse.
His efforts were successful, and once again they waited in trepidation, fully visible (and definitely in flagrant), to anyone who cared to peer into the alcove. Once again, they watched the circle of light wax and wane like a very tense day played out over the course of a minute or two. Once the circle of light started receding, Elizabeth ran to the corner to see where Mrs Hurst was bound, while Darcy used the last of the candle's weak light to search out a tinderbox.
A moment later, Elizabeth signalled him to proceed once the lady was far enough away. Whether due to skill, luck—or more likely panic—Darcy got the tinder lit with a single strike, while his partner watched to ensure the lady did not notice the sound.
It took another minute to get the candle lit, at which point, Mrs Hurst had gone through yet another stairway door.
Darcy whispered, "I presume another visitor to the servant's attics?"
Elizabeth shook her head in confusion. "Yes, and in this case, I suppose I must defer to your greater knowledge of the world. I can understand a man going hither—since we generally consider most men indistinguishable from goats—but a woman?"
Darcy sighed. "I suppose we are beyond the so-called maidenly sensibilities now, so I will try to answer. There are women with appetites similar to men, but they rarely… er… indulge before they produce an heir."
"I understand what you mean… what can be her motive?"
"I can think of but two. The first is that she simply enjoys the pleasures of the marriage bed…" but then he blushed furiously (though it was entirely wasted in the candlelight).
"You are asserting it can be pleasurable for a woman?" she asked with no attempt to disguise her shocked scepticism.
"It can… but I would beg you to defer any potential discussion until we have fewer pressing matters," he said, but then blushed again.
So caught up in the possibility any woman could consider the whole sorry business anything but one more unpleasant chore to endure, Elizabeth completely failed to notice the almost total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed by herself and her erstwhile partner in crime.
Darcy did not feel capable of exploring that subject in any depth. "There is another even more shocking possibility."
Shuddering at the very concept of something even more shocking than a woman experiencing pleasure in her marital duties, Elizabeth nodded for him to continue, not entirely certain she could speak without squeaking like a mouse.
"It is commonly expected for a wife to produce an heir. Would you be entirely surprised if a woman married to Mr Hurst might balk at spending two decades raising another Mr Hurst, when she had… alternatives."
Elizabeth gasped at the scandalous concept, completely unaware of just how pretty her partner found her with her mouth open into a big 'O' in shock, but then his assertion sat in, and she giggled.
"Since I have now seen Mr Hurst in his dressing gown, I can say …" and though she could not really assert that she could not particularly blame Mrs Hurst if she was searching for a more manly specimen to provide the next generation of Hursts, she felt they both understood the implication.
Having been shaken twice in a row, she shuddered and finally said, "Shall we, good sir," and was most surprised that she could call him that without the slightest trace of irony.
The path back to the Darcy door felt like it took forever, so they were still several paces away when she heard the familiar squeak.
With less distance to cover, they made it back to the alcove in good time, and even managed to stash the candle in the cupboard once again with plenty of time to spare. A glance at the familiar circle of light seemed to be moving far slower than that of both Hursts, so the tension continued to rise.
Much to her surprise, Elizabeth found herself nervously pressed up against Mr Darcy, but whoever was in the hallway was taking their own sweet time, and she flinched each time the shadows bounced around in the alcove once again. The candle came closer, then receded, and then did the same yet a second time.
With a start, she noticed her hip was pressed entirely against her poor beleaguered partner in crime, and while she thought she should be mortified, she was… not… not exactly, anyway. In point of fact, it made her wonder about Mr Darcy's assertion that the duties of a married woman could be considerably less onerous than Mrs Bennet implied.
She started contemplating if there was any way in the world she could ever ask Mr Darcy what he meant, when she felt a bit alarmed to notice a hand resting gently on the small of her back. Actually, the problem was not that she felt alarmed… but much more the fact that she did not. In fact, it felt… nice? comforting? reassuring? Whatever it was, it made her stomach flutter, but it oddly enough did not overly concern her—wonder of wonders.
Eventually feeling tired of holding herself rigid while the mysterious hall-stalker dithered, she relaxed. This had the immediate effect of moving her chest in to bump against Mr Darcy's, and she decided to give herself a rare treat by leaning the side of her head into his chest as she continued to watch the candlelight flicker and bounce around the hall. She had never been this close to any man since she was a tiny child and it felt… nice.
She had no idea what she expected. Anything from an unconscious tightening of Mr Darcy's body at the unrequested intimacy, to a smack in the head would not have surprised her. What she got did surprise her—although to be fair, she could not be entirely certain the pressure she felt on the top of her head was a kiss. It felt like a kiss, it sounded like a kiss, it made her feel warm and squiggly like she imagined a kiss would—but she could not be certain it was an actual kiss. For example, it was entirely possible Darcy found a medicinal leach in the cupboard and placed it on her head to calm her. He seemed like that sort of resourceful man.
At long last, the circle of candlelight—that had been moving up and down the hall for what seemed like an hour but was probably only a couple of minutes—moved down to the other end of the hall and stopped. In fact, it stopped at …
With a gasp, Elizabeth pushed herself off Darcy, and rushed out to peek around the corner of the alcove on the opposite side from where she observed the Hursts. She was not entirely surprised to find Mr Darcy's head peek over her shoulder. While it was not strictly proper for his chin rest on her person, she had to admit he had few options. While tall, he was not tall enough to put his head over hers unless he pushed her to the floor. Regarding the floor, his crawling around there to look under her suffered from its own logistical and proprietary difficulties… obviously. He seemed an eminently practical man, and her shoulder was the only practical option beyond a doubt; there cannot be two opinions on that point.
Wishing to show her appreciation for his efficiency and common sense, she reached back to squeeze his hand. Of course, that turned awkward when she did not want to release it… well, not exactly anyway. As a compromise, she kept hold of it, but since it was awkward reaching behind herself, she pulled his hand up and placed it comfortably on her hip. She rationalized it was less than a foot from where it had been a minute previously, so her true level of impropriety was neither helped nor hindered.
The pursuit of a good reconnaissance position distracted them momentarily, but eventually they both had to disregard the nervousness engendered to look at their target.
They both had a tough time holding back a gasp when they saw Miss Bingley nervously fidgeting. It appeared she had been wandering up and down the halls building up her courage. The lady was dressed in something that made the diaphanous gown Mrs Bennet had sent to Jane look like flannel. It was astonishingly… revealing.
After a few more minutes of dithering, Miss Bingley finally took a big breath, blew out her candle, turned the handle, and walked into Darcy's room.
When Caroline's candlelight disappeared, plunging them into darkness, both let out a startled gasp. Darcy's chin was still on Elizabeth's shoulder, though the utility of the position in the pitch black was suspect at best.
They stood in darkness a moment, and Darcy finally said, "Well… that should prove …" and struggled for the right word.
Elizabeth helpfully supplied, "… interesting… educational…"
Darcy chuckled. "I was thinking loud, but those work."
Elizabeth chuckled along with him and wondered both when the sneaky fox put his other hand on her hip, and why she was not objecting to it.
She sighed, but instead of protesting as a lady really ought to if she could at all manage it, she decided fair was fair, and turned her head just enough to kiss the side of his head. She really had no idea what would happen next but was unsurprised to find subtle pressure on both hands that encircled her waist encouraging her to turn around. With no real objection, but the utmost nervousness, she complied.
The mechanics of turning around in the pitch dark in a corner of an alcove five minutes from Armageddon were somewhat awkward, but with some small effort she maneuverered the man's hands back to the small of her back. That point had certain advantages, but it did make it slightly more difficult to work out where the rest of her companion was. Fortunately, a ready solution came to mind when she took hold of one of his shoulders. Simple geometry guided her other hand to his other shoulder, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to just wrap her arms around his neck.
For the gentleman's part, he found the placement of his hands to be just about optimal, the location of her repositioned arms to be not at all objectionable, and the position of her chest against his to be close to torture (the good kind). He vaguely thought men were supposed to lead in this sort of situation, but he also had the idea that Miss Elizabeth had not particularly liked him at the start of the evening. Pushing his luck seemed like a suboptimal strategy.
Fortunately for him, his pause seemed to the lady more like a weak attempt to be gentlemanly, and she was still insatiably curious about the whole idea of marital duties being pleasurable. Unable to work out when she might have another chance to answer her most pressing question, she pulled his head down for the traditional bashing of foreheads, followed by a rather sloppy attempt at a kiss.
Their first kiss, once they got past the pitch-black awkwardness of bumping foreheads, bumping noses, landing on the cheek (twice), eventually settled down to a contact that left the knees buckling, their breathing shallow, and the chill of the November night forgotten. The built-up passion lit up the darkened hallway like noon… at least metaphorically.
It took a few minutes to work out the best ways to organize the mechanics of the thing, and a few awkward questions regarding teeth and tongues were wordlessly asked and answered. Eventually, the first kiss ended as all things must, with a combination of breathless satisfaction and longing for more.
Both partners gave a contented sigh, and a coordinated pair of tugs of arms left the lady's face on the gentleman's shoulder, while his efforts moulded the rest of her body against his. She was surprised he appeared to possess some extra lumpy parts she was previously unaware of, but assumed they had something to do with the supposed pleasure of the marriage bed.
Entirely surprised to find herself without even a pretence of shame, she asked, "Is this how those pleasurable marital duties start?"
Darcy kissed the side of her head that was so convenient, and whispered, "Yes… though this is only the beginning. It gets better."
She sighed, then frowned. "I wonder if I will ever know about the rest?"
She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth, but she just had to know, and no amount of sneaking around in the night would make her state her desires directly. She still had some sense of propriety, though it was admittedly weak at best.
As she stood in fear of what he would say, Darcy proved himself the consummate gentleman, entirely dedicated to decorum and propriety when he wrapped his hands beneath her bottom, picked her up, and carried her back to the countertop in the back of the alcove. She let out a shriek, but otherwise held onto his shoulders until she found herself sitting on the narrow counter, her back against the wall, her legs spread on each side of the gentleman, kissing him for all she was worth.
Some great time later, they separated, and he said, "You probably noticed I am not a man who is always good with words. I imagine if I had three or four months to work on a proposal it would end up being more offensive than loving and you would send me packing with a flea in my ear. Do you suppose we could omit the several months of courting, and my probably poorly worded proposal to take that as it."
She shook her head in confusion, and finally said, "Are you proposing marriage, Mr Darcy?"
"I am," he said earnestly, although his hangdog puppy eyes were entirely wasted in the dark.
She laughed, kissed him again, and nodded her head in lieu of words since her mouth was entirely occupied.
Once her answer was given (more or less), Elizabeth found her entire body engulfed in a combination of comfort, fire, and excitement.
She was about to give her man another kiss when they heard the traditional telltale squeak.
She laughed, and whispered, "I think I shall refrain from telling Miss Bingley that keeping hinges oiled is one of the most basic duties of a mistress."
He chuckled, but then since his hands were still somewhere in the general vicinity of her bottom, the simply dragged her into the corner so they would be nearly invisible—not that he thought being caught would be a bad thing. Being forced to a short engagement was an idea that had a certain appeal, particularly when he thought about Mrs Bennet's likely reaction to 10,000 a year and maybe more.
She whispered, "I wonder if that is one of the Hursts returning?" to which he just shrugged, so she kissed him again… briefly.
The circle of light came along the wall and receded with more alacrity than any of its predecessors, so whoever was about was either serious about their business or just moved faster. Considering what dawdlers, the Hursts were, and how nervous Caroline appeared, it was no big surprise that someone walking at a normal pace would seem like a run.
Once the light passed, they both found their curiosity overriding their passion (barely), so they scurried out to their traditional spying position near the corner, although it must be admitted that Darcy was the first to deliver a kiss to the side of the head that time.
They had no idea if they should be amused or shocked to see Mr Bingley pause only briefly before entering Jane's room.
They both let out a long-suffering sigh. "Are we the only two people in this house not trying to compromise anyone?"
It hung out there a moment before they burst out laughing.
Elizabeth said, "Fitzwilliam, I am trying to imagine the torture of an engagement. You have only seen my mother on her best behaviour. I shudder to think of her worst."
He huffed, but just to make sure he gave no offense he wrapped his arms around her chest and pulled her to him. He was not entirely surprised when she purred like a cat (of the contented variety).
He put her lips next to her ears and said, "What say you to two birds with one stone?"
"As in?"
"We could satisfy our mutual curiosity about how pleasurable marital duties can be when you are in love and reduce the engagement period to a matter of days… all before morning."
She let out a great laugh, took his hand, and stumbled their way down the corridor to meet their loving future, thoroughly (and repeatedly) compromised in her own borrowed bed chamber in the den of sin that comprised Netherfield park.
~~ Finis ~~