This scene belongs at the end of chapter 31. The group from Huntsford cottage are invited to Rosings for the first time since Colonel Fizwilliam and Darcy have arrived. While there Lady Catherine behaves rudely, mostly ignoring them by almost exclusively speaking to her nephews. She insists Elizabeth must play the pianoforte for them, despite Elizabeth's protests that she does not play well. She then embarases Eliabeth before the whole party by lecturing her for not practicing enough, and comparing her skills to the talented Miss Darcy. Elizabeth takes it all in stride, she does not dwell on her embarrassment, but instead chooses to laugh at the absurdity of Lady Catherine. She spends the remainder of the evening speaking to the two gentlemen, joining in with Fitzwilliam to goodnaturedly tease Darcy.
When they had gone Colonel Fitzwilliam turned to Darcy and asked. "What think you of Miss Bennet?"
"She seems a respectable young woman." Darcy responded evasively.
"Come now, that is no answer. What fault do you find with her?" Fitzwilliam prodded. "I say she is positively charming, and uncommonly clever. Her conversation is diverting, and she certainly adds interest to our party here. Did you know that she has studied philosophy?"
"Yes, I have heard her speak of it before, I've often had the opportunity of observing her in conversation." A slight smile curved his lips. "She is versed in poetry as well."
"Yes, she has a fine taste in reading, -we've read many of the same. And despite her poor performance at the pianoforte, she is familiar with the modern composers." He paused, dropping his voice in a conspiratorial tone. "Such a singular sort of young woman. I even coaxed her into a discussion of politics. Though, I think her opinions on that front are mostly influenced by her father; but as they differ from my own, it provided the opportunity for a spirited debate."
"Spirited…" Darcy mumbled in a distracted sort of way. His eyes suddenly narrowed as they focused on Fitzwilliam. "And how have you discovered all this?" he asked accusingly.
Fitzwilliam snorted a laugh. "Not all of us are fortunate enough to be as rich as you Darcy. Some men have to undertake the trouble of actually speaking to a lady if we hope to gain her interest."
Darcy stiffened at the implication, and sat a bit straighter. "That may be true, but as I have no wish to gain the interest of any young lady, it matters not."
"The hell you don't", Fitzwiliam scoffed to himself. He was no fool, he'd witnessed Darcy's reaction when Elizabeth had smiled at him. He'd never seen Darcy in love before, he found the prospect very entertaining.
Fitzwilliam's animated speech drew the attention of Lady Catherine. She moved to join them, "What is it you are talking of?"
"Of Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
"Oh, I've had quite enough of her, -insolent girl! I say, nothing will become of her."
"Why do you say so?" asked Darcy.
"She is far too disagreeable for my taste. She does herself a great disservice with her willful speech when it would far better suit her to remain silent and agreeable." She looked momentarily at Anne, then back to Darcy. "That is how a young lady ought to behave; especially when she has no dowry to speak of, as it is in her case. She'll be a spinster I'm sure."
Darcy normally would have allowed a comment such as this to pass unacknowledged. For it was far less trouble to simply ignore Lady Catherine's impertinence than it was to anger her with contradiction. But in defense of Elizabeth he found it impossible to hold his tongue.
"I must ask you Madam, not to speak on such matters. Particularly when your information is so woefully misinformed."
"I say, Dar-" Lady Catherine began, but Darcy continued.
"With what authority do you claim to know the opinions of others? I dare say there are many among my sex who would prefer a woman of lively spirit, to one who would allow herself to be trampled upon. Now if you will excuse me, I have had my fill of conversation for the evening." He stood, with a nod to Fitzwilliam, and a slight bow to Anne, and Mrs. Jenkinson he abruptly turned and left.
He moved with purpose, and more outward calm than he truly possessed. He prided himself on being the sort of man who hardly ever lost his temper. But as both Fitzwilliam and Lady Catherine's remarks repeated in his mind he became more and more incensed.
Fitzwilliam had become far too familiar with Elizabeth for his liking. What right did he have to speak of her in that friendly way? He tried to recall how many times his cousin had called at the Parsonage in the last week. It was nearly every day. Irritation piqued as he pictured them in a private tet-a tet, discussing philosophy, music, and debating politics. Fitzwilliam's situation would not allow him to marry where there was no fortune. He had no business thoughtlessly raising the young lady's expectations.
Lady Catherine's frank rudeness to Elizabeth was another matter entirely. It exemplified the sort of treatment Elizabeth would receive, should she attempt to gain acceptance amongst those of his society. He had always known that Lady Catherine would be his greatest obstacle, but he could not remain silent and allow her to insult the woman he loved.
He stopped abruptly. The woman he loved?
Yes, he admitted. He loved Elizabeth. He searched his recollection, trying to determine precisely when his sentiments had changed. When had his infatuation for her moved beyond physical desire? When had it transformed into something more? He shook his head as he continued along the corridor. It didn't matter when the change had taken place, what remained was to determine how he should proceed.
Upon entering his room he crossed directly to the window. He could see Lady Catherine's carriage, now empty, returning from the Parsonage. He had to have her, there was simply no other way to satisfy his heart.
He contemplated the numerous obstacles that laid between them. Chief amongst them, his pride. Perhaps her family was not as sophisticated as he would have preferred, but she was, in a way, his equal. He was a gentleman, and she a gentleman's daughter; and her lack of fortune was no matter to him. Despite her vulgar relations, Elizabeth's manners were precisely what they ought to be. Besides, they would reside at Pemberley. A full three days journey would separate them from Hertfordshire. He solaced himself with the supposition that it was far too great a distance to allow for frequent visiting. Next he considered what Lady Catherine's displeasure would be. It had long been her expectation that he would marry Anne. Their future union had always been assumed but had never been formally agreed upon. He was under no binding obligation, he'd made no promises. Her dissatisfaction would be great, but he could not suffer her to dictate his actions. Lastly he considered Elizabeth's feelings. He felt little trepidation on that score. He could not conceive of any plausible objection on her part. He had so much to offer, how could she possibly refuse?
Contentment calmed his mind and settled his heart. The anguish and weight of self denial were suddenly lifted from him as he allowed himself to truly entertain the notion. Nothing would make him happier than to have her, and he would be forever tormented without her. The world be damned, he would make her his wife.
He fell easily into sleep that night. Visions of Elizabeth no longer taunted, but instead comforted him as he allowed them free rein. He dreamt he was at Pemberley, standing before a door in the inner recesses of his chamber. It was the door that separated the mistress's suite from his own. He had hardly noticed it when he had initially taken over the master rooms upon his father's passing several years hence. But in the preceding months, while his reason warred with his desire, the presence of that door began to mock him. Daily he passed it, trying unsuccessfully to ignore it, but ultimately there was no denying the emptiness that lay beyond. That blasted door had become a constant reminder of the woman that was beyond his grasp.
But now, as he passed through, instead of coldness he found warmth. The room was now occupied. There was a fire in the grate. Her clothing filled the wardrobe and her things were on the dressing table. He approached the bed and saw her sleeping form.
He stood at the foot of the bed, silently watching her. She was so beautiful, an angel. He was the happiest of men because she belonged to him. He hesitated, reluctant to break such peaceful repose. Then he smiled to himself; if he must disturb her, he would do so in a manner that fostered no remorse. Cautiously he slipped under the bedclothes.
He moved slowly over her body.
He pressed a trail of kisses and caresses along her thighs, gently bidding her to open for him. Her skin was soft and sweet, her body so delectably inviting. His lips brushed over her center with a touch that was as light as silk. He kissed her over and over, patiently waiting, as her flesh began to flush with warmth. His tongue deftly teased the furrow between her luscious folds. Ever so slightly she stirred, sighing contentedly. Even in sleep she welcomed him; she spread her thighs, allowing him to feast upon her.
Her breath deepened and her pulse quickened as he lavished her with long luxurious strokes of his tongue. He lapped at her entrance as her sweet wetness began to weep from her. Her response to his ministrations emboldened him. Her hips arched up eagerly and she sighed with pleasure. Moving faster, with more determination he suckled her bud, flicking it incessantly as it beaded under his tongue. She moaned aloud, and he felt her body tense as she started awake. She attempted to rise, but he pressed a hand over her belly.
"Shh… be still my darling," He whispered.
She sat up on her elbows, as the fog of sleep cleared she shifted the bedclothes to reveal his face. Her lips curved into a smile when she realized precisely what he was doing there.
"Hello," she giggled. She decided she liked the look of his disheveled hair, so unlike his habitual polished perfection. "I did not expect to find you here," she chided playfully.
He smiled up at her with a devilish grin.
"Does that mean I am unwelcome?"
"No, by all means, you have my leave to continue."
His eyes were luminous with passion. They held her gaze as he lowered his mouth, returning to her flesh. He stared into her soul as he began to ravish her aching sex.
Her fingers combed through his hair and she quivered against his face. She moaned her delight as he drove her closer to the edge of control. He reveled in the sound, the scent, the taste, the heat of her. He longed to possess every part of her. Expertly, his lips and his tongue importuned, coaxing her to surrender her pleasure to him. His hand groped her breast. Kneading her flesh, rolling her hardened nipple between his fingers, he extorted the most indecent sounds from her. All at once she fell back onto the pillows and she cried out, moaning her ecstasy into the dark night.
He kissed her mound, her hip, her navel, his mouth was rough and demanding. He kissed her chest, taking her nipple into his mouth, rasping possessively with his teeth. His lips crushed her mouth. She met him eagerly, surrendering, giving him all that he desired of her.
He rose up on his haunches. He hooked his arms under her thighs, and drug her to him. With one rapid motion, he burrowed his cock deep within her, groaning as her slick velvet heat surrounded him. He gripped her thighs, his fingers digging brutally into her voluptuous flesh. With each thrust he drew her forcefully onto him. He took his pleasure as he would, hard, and exacting. Madness had overtaken him, for she was bewitching. He watched, mesmerized as she took all that he had to give, and still urged him for more. Her breasts danced before him, bouncing with the impact of each movement. Then her hand moved to the apex of her sex, indulging herself with even greater pleasure.
"Come for me Lizzy," He panted through gritted teeth.
She arched, and fisted her hands in the bedclothes. She cried out her pleasure as her body convulsed. He bucked harder, forcing entrance against the spasms that wracked her body. He was helpless as his climax overtook him. His movement slowed, and the pleasure pulsed through him, as his seed filled her.
He woke suddenly. Every vivid detail of that fantasy remained clear as day in his mind. He laid back, content to let the impression of her linger as long as it would. Very soon, he consoled himself, she would be his; and his visions would become reality.
Thankyou for reading. As always, comments and corrections are welcome.