Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
RICHARD AWOKE WITH a crick in his neck from sleeping on the couch. Upon leaving the sitting room in search of a chamberpot, he was accosted immediately by a servant, who introduced herself as Mrs. Bittleby. Her brother, she said, was Mr. Givens. She had another last name because she’d been married, but her husband, God rest his soul, had been gone these eleven years. All of this she told him, along with a brief history of the house and how long she had been serving here as she bustled him into his bedchamber, telling him that he should have wakened someone last night when he arrived and that she was mortified to think he would have made a bed for himself on the couch and that it was her job to see to him.
Richard simply needed to use the chamberpot, so he found her prattle a bit of an anguish, not knowing how to break in and tell her he needed a bit of privacy. He, instead, waited for over a quarter hour while she went on and on. Finally, she left him in the bedchamber and he was able to relieve himself.
In all that, Mrs. Bittleby had indicated that breakfast was to be laid out in the dining room. The house was too small to have its own breakfast parlor, so all meals would be taken there. They breakfasted early here, in the country, she had told him. If he was expecting to stay abed until nigh eleven o’clock each day, the way idle folk did in the city, he would not find that there was anything for him to eat until luncheon.
Richard rather liked that, though. It was quite the same, only the opposite, from servants in the city. They had a disdain for country folk, thinking them simple and uncultured, while servants in the country thought the people in the city were lazy and undisciplined.
He really hoped that Mrs. Bittleby would not discover their awful behavior here and turn against them, for he rather liked her, even if she talked entirely too much.
No one was in the dining room when he arrived, though breakfast was laid out. He supposed they would be expected to serve themselves. And even dinner would be less formal without an array of footman to bring about dishes and the like. He would relish this, though. He was the sort of man who liked to do for himself when he could.
He recognized that it was the role of wealthy men like himself to provide a profession for the lower classes, and so it was necessary to have so many servants. They were housed and clothed and cared for by the lords of the estates, and he saw why it must be the way it was. It was a responsibility to employ them, one he and men like him must undertake. But, well, he would rather not have so many people hovering about and doing all manner of ridiculous tasks for him, tasks he was quite capable of performing on his own.
Yes, this would be a holiday, in more ways than one.
He mused, with some warmth, over Elizabeth’s words to him the night before. Do not worry about sullying me . His prick twitched, eager to get down to the business of sullying.
But within half an hour, Darcy and Elizabeth had both come down for breakfast, and the air of the gathering held nothing untoward about it.
Darcy himself was very good at that, Richard mused, at compartmentalizing elements of himself, presenting an image of himself that contained no hint of the dark well within the man.
To anyone watching them, it would have appeared that they were simply friends on a country holiday, ready to do nothing but wholesome relaxing. There was talk of a ramble over the grounds by the river.
“Not on horseback, I hope!” Elizabeth exclaimed with real concern, and both Richard and Darcy laughed easily, well acquainted with Elizabeth’s deep dislike of horses.
So, no, it would be on foot, just a walk in nature to look at the water and the trees and the autumnal foliage, which was quite beautiful here. The air was crisp, cooler here than further south, but still with a breath of summer that had yet to be extinguished.
Darcy said, “I wonder about bringing along a picnic luncheon. I shall go and seek out Mrs. Bittleby and see if it will be too much trouble to put something together.”
All wholesome, yes.
Except that when Darcy quit the room, he casually brushed a hand over Richard’s shoulders, sending a thundering mess of sensations through his body. And then, on his way out the door, he stopped and kissed his wife. On the mouth. At the breakfast table .
So, no.
Not an innocent little holiday, not at all.
ELIZABETH SAT WITH her knees and skirts tucked under her, perched on a quilt laid out on the riverbank. They were far from the house, quite alone here.
Her husband sorted through the picnic basket that Mrs. Bittleby had prepared for them. “I expect it will fall to me to direct everything between us?” He did not wait for an answer before continuing on, matter-of-fact. “I do not mind this at all, truthfully. In fact, I may prefer it. I think it excites me to direct it, so if there are no objections from the two of you, I shall assume that role.”
Elizabeth stomach tightened in anticipation. Outside, then? She and her husband had done things outside before, and she had not ever found anything to quite complain about it. There was something pleasant about it under the sky, she thought.
Mr. Darcy eyed Richard, as if waiting for the other man to speak up, but he said nothing. “All right, well, there was the beginning of a discussion of lines that ought not be crossed between myself and Richard, but, darling, you were not there for it, and I think that should likely be discussed before we attempt anything at all.”
“Lines?” she said. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” said Darcy, “you have already laid one down, and I shall relay it to Richard as well. Lizzy does not wish us to engage in any activity when she is not present, and I find I don’t wish the two of you to be off together behind my back either. So, can we all agree to that? The three of us only, no pairing off.”
“What about you and Elizabeth?” said Richard darkly. “I suppose that pairing isn’t excluded.”
Darcy gave him an odd look.
“Oh,” said Richard with a shrug. “Am I trespassing over your other line, the one where it is I’m not allowed to abscond with your wife?”
Darcy sat back, eyeing the picnic basket, his expression perplexed. “Well,” he said carefully, “I suppose it’s all right to include that in the stipulations, at least for now. For the duration of our stay, for however long it takes to get Lizzy with child, I shall not engage in any activity with her alone. The three of us or not at all.”
Richard picked up a plate which was wrapped tightly with a cloth and began unwrapping it. “No, no, that’s ridiculous. I can’t demand such a thing. This is your marriage that I am intruding upon.”
“It’s not really an intrusion,” said Elizabeth, remembering the way that Richard had seemed pained last night when he’d dismissed her. “It is harder for you, Richard, given that you must feel excluded naturally, since Will and I are married. We can agree to that.”
“Yes,” said Darcy. “Done.” He took the plate from Richard and finished unwrapping it. “This is all very delicate and complicated and I think we must respect each other’s emotions about it. We wish to emerge on the other side of this without having damaged our connections to each other. And I know I have my own tendencies towards jealousy, and I would like to mitigate those. I think we must be quite careful about it.”
Richard sighed heavily. “If everyone’s going to be so jealous, should we even do it?”
“Should we?” said Darcy with a shrug. “Is it a good thing? Is it moral? Is it right? We likely should not do it. But I wish to. Rather badly. And I think all of us wish it?” He raised his eyebrows waiting.
“Yes,” breathed Elizabeth, full of that heady, permissive sensation again. She became suddenly aware of the way her ankle was situated under her body. She couldn’t stop herself from wiggling her pelvis into it.
“Aye, I wish it,” said Richard hoarsely.
“Yes, so we must find a way to indulge our wish in a way that causes the least amount of pain,” said Darcy.
“Must there be pain?” said Elizabeth. She could still see that image of the three of them, all in love, all connected. Why couldn’t it be that way? How could she make the others see it too?
“I don’t know.” Mr. Darcy uncovered the plate entirely, revealing pieces of cold chicken. He took a drumstick and handed the plate to Elizabeth. He took a bite and chewed as the others served themselves. He swallowed. “I have been giving it all a great deal of thought as of late, and it occurs to me that the act itself, even when it is only between two people, is about two things. Giving and taking.” He considered. “Well, perhaps three things. Giving, taking, and…” His voice dropped into a lower register. “Being taken.”
Elizabeth shivered a little. She bit into her chicken, rocking her pelvis into her ankle again.
“What’s this got to do with jealousy?” said the colonel, whose voice was a little scoured.
“Perhaps it doesn’t,” said Mr. Darcy, raising a shoulder. “But it seems to me that if all one does during the act itself is give to another partner, this puts an undue amount of pressure on the other person to give back, and there comes a point, always, when one is right in the midst of it, when, erm, one must concentrate on one’s own pleasure? One must become a bit selfish, right in the throes, to get to the pinnacle, you know what I mean?”
Elizabeth did know. It wasn’t something she’d done naturally, but it was something she’d learned to do with her husband because he’d given space for her pleasure. But there was a point in time, when she was striving for her climax when she must focus on it, singlemindedly, and think nothing of whether or not her husband was enjoying himself. If she did, if she worried about him, she would lose the thread of it.
“But,” Mr. Darcy continued, “watching that in someone else, watching another person take you, use you for their own pleasure, becoming a vessel of their gratification, it’s perhaps my favorite thing about it.”
Richard sucked in a noisy breath, an agreement.
“So, you see, the jealousy part, it’s, erm, the selfish bit within each of us, I think? We all have that within us, a desire to possess the objects of our attraction. And I like it when Elizabeth wishes to possess me, but when I think of Elizabeth wanting to possess you, it makes me feel small, I suppose? Unimportant? I get caught up in my own worries of possible inadequacies?”
“Yes, but it won’t be that way,” said Elizabeth, but then the words died in her throat, for she found herself unwilling to tell Richard that Mr. Darcy was first in her heart, even though it was true, because she thought it might make Richard feel inadequate and small. She picked at her chicken. After a long pause, she said, “Cannot I wish to possess you both?”
“Certainly,” said Mr. Darcy quietly. “But if so, if that is what you wish, will it mean that I am never enough for you after this? Will you always need him, too?”
Richard sighed heavily. “I feel more and more we should simply abandon this entire enterprise. You will resent me, Will. You already resent me.”
Darcy shook his head, eating more chicken. He swallowed hurriedly. “No, no, that’s the thing, I don’t. Because there’s another feeling. Well, a lot of other feelings, but one of them is just that I couldn’t deny Elizabeth that if she did want it, because I adore her, and I would deny her nothing. If we get on the other side of this, and she still wants you, then I would be a cad to keep you from her.”
Richard’s eyes widened. “You can’t be suggesting—”
“And another thing is that I want you, Richard,” said Darcy with a little smile. “Quite a great deal. So, I think it’s worth the risk, really. That’s why I’m suggesting these boundaries, these lines. Let’s go back to nailing those down.”
“You have just said that your boundary, which is that I am not to think I can have your wife, isn’t a boundary at all, because you said you wouldn’t keep me from her if she wanted me!” Richard exclaimed, gesturing with his chicken.
“Well, that all remains to be seen,” said Darcy. “We shall have to negotiate what comes after later, I suppose. Anyway, I see I haven’t been clear with my boundary. My boundary is simply that I don’t wish you try to take her from me . I want it understood that no matter what happens, no matter how long it is that the two of you have been flirting with each other, and no matter what bond forms between you, you are not going to cut me out of it!”
“Will,” whispered Elizabeth, reaching over to touch him. “I shall never leave you. You are my heart.”
He looked at her, nodding.
She swallowed, glancing back and forth between the two men. “I shall want the same promise from the two of you.”
Darcy looked up at her. “What?”
“You shan’t leave me for him,” she said. “Even if you have wanted him your entire life, and even if you only proposed to me because you could see that he wanted me—”
“That is not at all what happened!” Darcy exclaimed, dropping his chicken leg.
“I shall not lose you, Fitzwilliam Darcy,” she said in an urgent voice.
“Never,” he breathed. And then he reached across the quilt and kissed her, hard, a promise of a kiss, a firm kiss.
She let out a breath, sighing.
Richard studied the half-eaten piece of chicken in his hand. “I shall say it one more time. I think this is a very bad idea.”