Page 3 of Pride, Prejudice & Wicked Pleasure

He swept her into his arms and laid her upon the sofa. Prudence battled for dominance, and she looked to see that the doors were fully shut this time. They ought not disrespect the home of Sir William. But when Wickham’s lips claimed hers a second time, she found her passions a formidable foe. He reached beneath her skirts and skimmed the bare part of her leg, making her tremble. She ached for him to touch her most intimate parts, yet when he did, she gave a small cry, which was promptly swallowed in his kiss. His hand was slightly rough between her legs, but the wetness allowed her to bear and even exalt in his brusque and fervent manhandling.

“Wickham! Wickham, where have you gone off to?”

Lizzy heard the giggling of her younger sisters in the corridor.

“Such an exasperating man!” Lydia grumbled.

Wickham emitted a soft and ungentlemanly oath.

“We must not be found,” Lizzy whispered, pushing her skirts down as she sat up. She was no less disappointed than he, but perhaps it was all for the best.

“Go,” she urged him. “I think Lydia and Kitty will not rest till they have found you.”

He straightened and adjusted the area of his fall. A bulge was still apparent there.

“Will you join us then? Or do intend more reading?” he asked.

She looked sharply at him, but she could not be angry when his eyes glimmered so bewitchingly. “I must properly dispose of this book first.”

“Have you no wish to further discuss its merits?”

She made no reply, but her lips curled faintly in a smile. She watched him take a deep breath before facing the library doors and exiting. A minute later, she heard Lydia exclaim, followed by much prattling before the voices faded down the corridor.

The naughty novel found its way back home with Lizzy later that night. In the end, she had finished the book faster than she had read any other. Though she had often thought to dispose of the book and worried that it might be accidentally discovered, she had retrieved it as many times to read certain passages a second or third time. Her body had reacted at every reading. The ribald and bawdy scenes had left her breath heavy and induced a lively pressure between her legs. The author had composed all manner of lechery: orgies in which couples bore witness to one another in the act of congress, a man aroused by the deflowering of virgins, and one in which the act of flogging aided titillation. This last concept had stayed with Lizzy for some time. She marveled that pain could be incorporated into pleasure. The more she dwelt upon it, the more her curiosity grew.

Her mind turned frequently also to that evening in the library with Wickham. Alas, they would not get to reprise the scene. The following day brought a devastating letter from Mr. Bingley’s sister, Caroline, and Lizzy felt it necessary to attend her heartbroken sister.

The whole Netherfield party—Charles Bingley, his sisters, and Mr. Darcy—had quit Hertfordshire rather suddenly. The very first sentence of Miss Bingley’s subsequent letter to Jane conveyed the assurance of their being all settled in London for the winter, and concluded with her brother's regret at not having had time to pay his respects to his friends in Hertfordshire before he left the country.

Hope was over, entirely over. When Jane could bear to read the rest of the letter, she found the contents chiefly comprised of praise for Mr. Darcy’s younger sister and Caroline boasting joyfully of her brother’s increasing intimacy with Miss Darcy. Lizzy heard it all in silent indignation. Her heart was divided between concern for her sister and resentment against all others. To Caroline's assertion of her brother's being partial to Miss Darcy she paid no credit. That Bingley was really fond of Jane, she doubted no more than she had ever done; and much as she had always been disposed to like him, she could not think without anger, hardly without contempt, on that easiness of temper, that want of proper resolution, which now made him the slave of his designing friends, and led him to sacrifice of his own happiness to the caprice of their inclination. Had his own happiness, however, been the only sacrifice, he might have been allowed to sport with it in whatever manner he thought best, but her sister's was involved in it. Whether Bingley's regard for Jane had really died away, or were suppressed by his friends' interference; whether he had been aware of Jane's attachment, or whether it had escaped his observation; whatever were the case, her sister's situation remained the same, her peace equally wounded.

Jane’s grief was not helped by her mother, who still continued to wonder and repine at his returning no more, and though a day seldom passed in which Lizzy did not account for it clearly, there was little chance of Mrs. Bennet ever considering it with less perplexity. Her daughter endeavoured to convince her of what she did not believe herself, that his attentions to Jane had been merely the effect of a common and transient liking, which ceased when he saw her no more; but Mrs. Bennet's best comfort was that Mr. Bingley must be down again in the summer.

Mr. Bennet treated the matter differently. "So, Lizzy," said her father one day, "your sister is crossed in love, I find. I congratulate her. Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed a little in love now and then. It is something to think of, and it gives her a sort of distinction among her companions. When is your turn to come? You will hardly bear to be long outdone by Jane. Now is your time. Here are officers enough in Meryton to disappoint all the young ladies in the country. Let Wickham be your man. He is a pleasant fellow, and would jilt you creditably."

Lizzy coloured. "Thank you, sir, but a less agreeable man would satisfy me. We must not all expect Jane's good fortune."

"True," said Mr. Bennet, "but it is a comfort to think that whatever of that kind may befall you, you have an affectionate mother who will make the most of it."

In Mr. Darcy’s absence, the whole of his crimes against Mr. Wickham was made publicly known. Wickham had in his first meeting with Lizzy recounted how he and Mr. Darcy had grown up together, how Wickham’s father had provided an invaluable service to the late Mr. Darcy in caring for the family’s property, and how the late Mr. Darcy had promised to provide for young Wickham by bequeathing to him the position of pastor and its valuable living. The present Mr. Darcy had chosen not to honour the intentions of his father and presented the position to another man.

Shocking. Dishonest. Abominable.

Lizzy had uttered these words and remarked that Mr. Darcy deserved to be publicly disgraced for such a malicious and inhumane act.

Everybody was pleased to know how much they had always disliked Mr. Darcy before they had known anything of the matter.

Jane was the only creature who could suppose there might be any extenuating circumstances in the case, unknown to the society of Hertfordshire. Her mild and steady candour always pleaded for allowances, and urged the possibility of mistakes—but by everybody else Mr. Darcy was condemned as the worst of men.

CHAPTER THREE

About the middle of the next day, as Lizzy was in her room getting ready for a walk, a sudden noise below seemed to set the whole house in confusion. After listening for a moment, she heard somebody running upstairs in a violent hurry, and calling loudly after her. She opened the door and met Maria in the landing place, who, breathless with agitation, cried out,

"Oh, my dear Eliza! Pray make haste and come into the dining-room, for there is such a sight to be seen! I will not tell you what it is. Make haste, and come down this moment."

Lizzy asked questions in vain. Maria would tell her nothing more, and down they ran into the dining-room, which fronted the lane, in quest of this wonder; it was two ladies stopping in a low phaeton at the garden gate.

"And is this all?" cried Lizzy. "I expected at least that the pigs were got into the garden, and here is nothing but Lady Catherine and her daughter."