Chapter 2 #3
The feeling of him was intoxicating. The weight of him, his wonderful hands touching all those places she pretended to be touched by him so many times.
She could not help but bask in his attention and need for her.
It felt both satisfying and not enough. She was desperate for the climax but did not want this delightful connection to end.
In an instant, the muscles on his back tensed under her hands, her ear filled with a primal groan as he found his own release…
She kept moving, but he leaned back to look at her face.
“Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth…” he whispered, eyes dark but twinkling, a grin on his face, fingers gently caressing her temples.
They looked into each other’s eyes, panting.
As her heartbeat calmed and the haze of the moment settled, the reality struck.
She felt her chin trembling. Darcy lowered his head to kiss her again but this time she turned away.
“What have I done?!” Her eyes filled with tears and disappointment. She pushed him aside and made to move away. Shuffling off the examination table, she forced her skirts down with a little shake. With her back to him, she hid her face, struggling not to sob.
“You have done nothing…” Darcy tried to reassure her.
“I humiliated your wife, Mr Darcy, we both did!”
He stared at her for a moment. “There is no need to worry…”
She did not want to hear his lame excuses. “I, of all people, should know how painful betrayal of the vows can be. I should have never let…”
“Elizabeth!” He stopped her. “I do not have a wife!”
She turned and looked at him with surprise. “You do not have a wife?” Her mind was reeling, her relief enormous. “I am sorry for your loss.” She mumbled.
Darcy stood there, his appearance dishevelled, his shirt hanging to his knees, his coat and waistcoat still on but askew, his cravat’s whereabouts unknown, the hair on his chest visible, and his hair tussled.
He was a sight for sore eyes. Vulnerable, he strained to cling to his dignity with his upright posture and his head held high.
Her eyes searched the room and found his neckcloth hanging from the handle of one of the cabinets. She grabbed it and stepped towards Darcy. She looked up at his face. “I am sorry to feel glad about your situation, but I truly could not live with myself otherwise. ”
Her hands slowly moved to Darcy’s breeches and undid them again. He was stunned; his arms went around her shoulders to bring her closer. She shrugged them off with a smile and tucked his shirt in.
“I can see you are lost without your valet,” she stated, with a little twinkle in her eyes.
He laughed and marvelled at the swiftness of her actions.
His shirt was now tucked in, his waistcoat smoothed down, and his shirt buttoned up.
This was a woman who had lived with a man before.
A pang of irrational jealousy hit him in the chest.
“We have to get married,” he stated matter-of-factly.
She shook her head and gave him a look that should have stopped him, but he did not heed her.
“Your reputation is at stake. As a gentleman, I am honour bound…” Her laughter interrupted his speech, her hands left his neck cloth and went to rest on her hips.
“Mr Darcy, that is out of the question! I am not an innocent or a damsel in distress.”
“Elizabeth, I took liberties. It is my responsibility to…”
Elizabeth raised her index finger and pinned it to Darcy’s chest. “Firstly, it is Mrs Morley to you. Secondly, your honour will have to live with the fact that it is my responsibility to take care of myself, my staff, my business and I am not inclined to find myself in the power of another man to tell me how to conduct either of those things.”
“What about any consequences?” He asked, incredulous and frustrated.
“There won’t be any consequences. I believe we can both be discreet about this… lapse of reason.” She went to the desk and opened one drawer. She took out a comb and handed it to Darcy.
“It is not just Miss Bennet’s disappointment you blame me for, is it?” he asked, tapping the comb on the palm of his hand.
“No, but it hardly matters now.” She gave him a wan smile.
“Your hair… You may need to take care of that.” Elizabeth looked around.
She found her apron on the floor, picked it up, shook it out and put it back on.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr Darcy, I have work to attend to. I believe you can see yourself out.”
With that, she disappeared behind the door. He took out the pocket watch - all this took less than half an hour. He made a couple of passes through his hair with the comb, placed it on the table and made for the door.
* * *
Elizabeth heard the bell in the shop announcing his departure.
She closed her eyes and cried and laughed at once.
What in heaven’s name possessed me? She still felt the echoes of his touches on her body, the dull ache for climax still present…
She took off her apron and went upstairs to refresh herself.
“What must he think of me?” she whispered to herself as she looked in the mirror. She could not bring herself to tell him about her poor, foolish little sister, but she did not behave any better just a moment ago. Her, a grown woman, no less.
Few people knew of Lydia; it was as if she had died. Only if she did indeed die, her family and friends would talk about her. As things were, Lydia was forgotten.
Elizabeth had been angry with her once she received news of the elopement.
She could not imagine what compelled her to act like that, putting herself in such a situation.
When she had fallen in love with Tommy, she had understood her motives better.
Still in mourning for her mother, her father had demanded a long engagement, but all she had craved were Tommy’s arms and lips.
She chuckled at the euphemism. If he had suggested elopement to Gretna Green, she would have complied, as she barely resisted proposing it herself.
Mr Wickham had taken her sister to London - no further, and after a brief period of amusing himself with her, she was abandoned and left alone. Next they had heard he was being hanged for desertion. They had never discovered her sister’s fate, but they could envision it.
Losing their reputation had been a blessing in disguise.
Neither were expected to make a good match - no gentleman would even look at either of them.
Jane and herself had gone to London to live with their Uncle Gardiner and his family.
Mary had joined a mission, and Kitty had married a clergyman, when Meryton had gained a new curate.
Both she and Jane had been able to marry for love.
Jane’s husband was a solicitor and he had opened his own practice some seven years ago in Manchester.
They had four children, and they seemed to be happy.
Elizabeth was immensely proud of all their achievements.
She heard the bell again; she ran down the stairs and into the shop. Her heart was beating so fast it made her dizzy. She shook her head and checked her hair as she passed the mirror in the hallway, put a smile on and entered the shop to greet the patron.
* * *
Cranston noticed his master’s foul mood immediately.
He could not remember his master ever throwing things at him before, as he was pelted, first by his greatcoat, followed by the waistcoat, and lastly the fine beaver hat, which bounced off him onto the floor as he tried to catch it.
Without an apology or any acknowledgement, Mr Darcy stormed past him and took the stairs to his chamber two at a time.
A week before, the master had consumed an entire bottle of scotch alone in his study, and now this.
Cranston flinched when the door to the master’s chamber slammed shut.
With eyebrows raised and a faint head shake, he went off to warn the housekeeper.
The master of the house sat at the desk in his chamber. He was in disarray but also flush with buoyancy. He ran a hand over his face. His whole body humming with the memory of her, his pulse thundering in his ears.
Talking to Elizabeth felt as bewildering as always.
He thought they were having a polite conversation.
She became agitated; they got into an argument - he kissed her and when he summoned enough reason to stop; she ordered him to continue, for she had wanted him.
And yet… a sickening thought curled in his stomach.
She had wanted him, clung to him, encouraged him - knowing, or rather believing he belonged to another woman.
The irony made him laugh mirthlessly. No respectable woman would behave like this.
What was worse, when he had offered for her, she had not paused to consider it - she had laughed!
She had seen marriage as neither desirable nor inevitable.
She had handed him a comb. As if he were a schoolboy who had mussed his hair, rather than a man who had just bedded her.
She had not wept. Had not begged. Had not even hesitated.
She had put on her apron, returned to work, and dismissed him as if he were of no consequence at all.
He should be done with her, but what he could not set aside was the mysterious grudge she held against him.
* * *
Elizabeth did not know what she hoped. For Darcy to return, as if summoned by her ridiculous yearning? The notion was absurd. And yet she was struck with disappointment when she saw a woman standing by the counter. Elegant and assured, drumming her fingers idly on the polished wood.
“Good afternoon, Lady Wistham. What can I help you with today?”
“I am glad to see you, Mrs Morley. I would like some more of that marvellous salve you made for me last time. And also…” The lady looked around.
“Would you like to sit with me in the surgery so we can talk privately?” she offered.
“Yes, my dear.” Lady Wistham stepped towards the next room door.
The bell chimed again, and Elizabeth turned her head towards the sound.
An average-built man entered, his confidence reflected in the way he strode in.
“Good afternoon, ladies!” He inclined his head and took off his hat.
Elizabeth gave an apologetic look to Lady Wistham and led her into the surgery while she returned to the counter to serve him.
“How may I assist you, sir?”
“I have to admit I forgot what ailed me with so much beauty in front of me.”
Elizabeth gave him a feeble smile and blushed a little. Not because of what he said, but because of what transpired earlier - no flattery required.
Feeling encouraged, the man continued, “I am sure your smile alone can heal anything!” and smiled jovially.
“That would be bad business, sir, because I cannot charge for smiles.”
“True, true.” He chuckled…
“Pray tell, what ailed you before you beheld me?”
“I am tortured by a nasty cough, my lady.”
Elizabeth furrowed her eyebrows. “Does it worsen when you lie down? Do you cough out phlegm?”
“Yes, and yes - it disturbs my sleep at night. Even if I do not cough all day,” the man elaborated while Elizabeth faced the shelves, finger touching her lips. She grabbed one bottle and put it on the counter.
“This should do the trick. It will help you expel the phlegm more easily, therefore easing the cough. It will make the cough worse - so take a spoonful in the morning and at midday. You shall cough more during the day and hopefully have more rest during the night. Come back if the cough doesn’t stop within a week. ”
“If I stop coughing, I will have to invent another excuse to visit.” He said after placing the coins in Elizabeth’s hand. He touched his hat and turned to leave. The door opened before he touched it, and Mr Brook with Jonathan entered. All three of them inclined their heads in greeting.
“Good afternoon, sir. Have you been served to your satisfaction?” asked Mr Brook.
“Certainly, sir!” the man replied with a smile and a wink towards Elizabeth. He bowed again and stepped outside.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes as Mr Brook approached her, with a question in his face. “He had a phlegmy cough. If you would excuse me, I have a lady waiting for me in the surgery.” She did not wait for any answer, smoothed her skirts and made for the door.
“I am so sorry I kept you waiting, Lady Wistham,” She said with a smile as she sat down behind the desk. Her eyes glimpsed the examination table, and the voice caught in her throat.
“Mrs Morley, you don’t seem to be quite yourself today,” the lady’s countenance full of concern.
“It is nothing; do not trouble yourself.” Elizabeth tried to come across as nonchalant as possible. “I‘ve had a couple of restless nights - that is all.”
“Oh, I remember those nights when I lost my husband, my dear! Long and cold they are…” Lady Wistham remarked, piercing Elizabeth with her eyes.
Elizabeth cleared her throat and fidgeted in her seat. “Lady Wistham, how can I help you today?”
“I am not sure. I suffer terribly… Ever since my courses stopped.” Lady Wistham blushed ever so slightly.
“I am hot and cold, my hair is falling out at an alarming rate… I am not, eh… Let’s just say I was looking forward to not having to worry and enjoy certain freedoms a widow could take part in if she was so inclined only to find herself…
” here she stopped and leaned closer “… I find myself not inclined at all!”
“I am sorry to hear you do not feel yourself. You are going through a change of life - it is natural that one’s inclinations may change.
I can give you a tonic today to help you feel fresh.
Reducing red meat might help too. Take fluids regularly.
The rest of it… eh… I might need to do some reading.
Come and see me in a week and we can go from there. ”
“I certainly will, my dear!”
Elizabeth escorted Lady Wistham to the door and went behind the counter to fetch the bottle of tonic and the salve she promised.
She handed them to the older lady, who took the items and, while stashing them into her reticule, said to Elizabeth, “You are in an enviable position, Mrs Morley, don’t waste too much time on propriety. ” With that, she left.