Obeying Mr. Darcy Read online

  Obeying Mr. Darcy

  Master Darcy #1: A Pride and Prejudice Intimate Novella

  Sara English

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  One

  Elizabeth Bennet sat awaiting her fate, shivering to herself and wondering what might happen next. Her predicament she found herself in had started merely weeks before, when her father had suddenly taken ill and died, and she had been forced to be a little less choosy when determining the course of her future.

  Just when she was about to take the position of a governess with a well-respected family in the north in the hopes of being able to supplement her meager earnings and perhaps even add to the dowries of her younger sisters, a man from her past had emerged.

  It had been a few years, perhaps more, since she had last seen Mr. Darcy and his proud and noble mien. She had pretended to one and all that she had forgotten him since her refusal of his offer, but indeed she had thought he to be the one who had forgotten her. After her complete and frank assessment of his character, including his actions in separating her sister from Mr. Bingley, he had vanished from the social landscape that she frequented.

  Jane, heartbroken still over Mr. Bingley’s total and absolute abandonment, had married a local man, a solicitor who did care for her deeply even if he was more portly than handsome, and had fewer hairs on his head than a babe.

  Elizabeth had been certain, when she had stood up for Jane at the ceremony, that she would never, could never, forgive Mr. Darcy for while Jane’s husband, Mr. Chambers, was kind and adored his new bride he was not the love of Jane’s life.

  Curious that now, Elizabeth should find herself beholden to Mr. Darcy, when all seemed lost for her family, and the remaining unmarried sisters should be ruined because of the actions of the very youngest, Lydia…

  There came a sharp rap on the door of the room in which Elizabeth sat, and her thoughts scattered as her nerves roared up again. Oh, what did she think she was doing? She got to her feet, brushing her hands over the simple gown she’d been asked to wear for this initial meeting… her first meeting with Mr. Darc-no, she corrected herself quickly, Master Darcy. For while she knew him in society from several years ago, now she was to know him in an altogether different manner entirely.

  Her heart beat severely in her chest as she murmured a quiet,

  “Come in.”

  The door opened, and her heart leapt up into her throat.

  A wizened gentleman stood there, and for a moment she was confused, her eyes trying to recognized the stooped figure with that of Mr. Darcy… but it had only been three years, surely he could not have aged so much in such a short period of time…

  “Mr. Darcy will see you now,” the man spoke, and she realized with a start that the shrunken man was not, in fact, Mr. Darcy, and she was quite silly to have even thought so for a moment. Clearly her nerves were getting the best of her.

  “I.. Yes, of course,” she said as she stepped forward. He beckoned to her, before turning and walking out of the room. She followed with no small amount of trepidation.

  Oh, curse Lydia for running away with that foot soldier! Curse her for forcing Elizabeth into near-drudgery as a governess, and now the unbelievable role of mistress to Mr. Darcy.

  She would have said more internal curses towards her youngest sister, except they had walked from her rooms at the far end of the grand house in London, and come down a set of stairs that deposited them at the landing of an ornate set of doors.

  “He awaits,” the old man said, glancing over her appraisingly before bowing his head to her. She scarcely had time to curtsey in return when he left, taking his candle with him and leaving her in the near dark. Mr. Darcy clearly did not want for money, so why he left his hallways under-illuminated was a mystery to Elizabeth as she lifted one trembling, shaking hand to the carved door.

  She had barely knocked when she heard the shift of wood, and the groan of hinges. The door swung inwards, and she followed it, entirely certain that her legs would give out at any moment.

  The room she found herself were what she assumed to be Mr.-Master Darcy’s personal chambers. They were richly decorated in dark oaks polished to a fine luster, thick hangings of deep red silk-velvet, and curiously, plush woven rugs upon the gleaming floors the likes of which she had never seen. The colors of the rugs were jewel-like, and they seemed to depict fantastical scenes of birds, ripe fruit on the vine, horses and even a depiction or two of what looked like the mystical, imaginary creatures known as dragons.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” the voice drew her from her nervous examination of the room’s furnishing to the man whose presence practically screamed for all her attention.

  Mr. Darcy. Three years had done nothing to diminish the proud way he held himself, or the fine arch of his eyebrows, nor the deep brown of his eyes. His lips did not smile, even at that moment, and as he regarded her she felt as if she were a small butterfly pinned to card, one of Kitty’s collected curiosities from the Longbourn garden.

  Oh, but Longbourn was so very far away…

  “Master Darcy,” she said, her voice paper-dry and rough.

  “I am pleased you could come on such short notice, and that the terms that the solicitor drew were amenable to you,” he said as he gestured for her to enter more fully into the room. There must have been a servant waiting for her to stop hovering in the doorway, for the clack of wood behind her signaled that her private time with Mr. Darcy had begun, and there was no turning back.

  “Yes, the contract was… amenable,” Elizabeth said, clearing her throat.

  “You must be parched from your journey today, and your preparations,” he said, and he crossed the room to a side-board that boasted a silver platter, with a slender pitcher and a pair of cut-crystal tumblers. Elizabeth stared at that finery, for the nicest of their belongings had been sold out of Longbourn after Mr. Bennet had fallen ill…

  The silver pitcher had beads of condensation running along its sides. Mr. Darcy picked it up and poured her a tumbler of what seemed to be water. He held it out to her, forcing her to walk to him. She took the glass, trying not to blush as his fingers brushed over his.

  Given the contents of their agreement, this would be the least and littlest of embarrassments she would endure over the coming weeks.

  “Drink, please,” he said, not unkindly, and she took a slow sip of the chilled water. It soothed her throat, and as the cold droplets ran down to her stomach, she did indeed find herself relaxing somewhat. “It gives me great pleasure to entertain you in my house. I did, at one time, hold such dreams of having you here. Although this is a different manner in which I shall have you here, it is not any less… pleasing to me.” He glanced over her as he spoke, and she felt as if she were bare and naked right in front of him then, as she knew she would be shortly, in the coming days.

  “You thought of me here, in Darcy House, in London?” she asked, feeling the presence of the London bustle just beyond the great house’s windows and it’s small, walled city garden.

  “Oh yes, I did indeed,” Mr. Darcy said as he looked down at her, a quality in his voice somewhat like smoke. “Now that I have you here, however, I wonder what you think of it.”

  “What I think of it?” she repeated his words, because she was almost afraid of what she would say if she spoke freely- why did you ask this of me? Why this? Do you wish to debase me? To seek revenge for my refusal of you?

  She held her tongue.

  “Yes, Miss Elizabeth, or should I call you Miss Bennet now that your eldest sister is married?” he asked with a tilt of his head. “While the niceties and etiquette of good society are not lost on m
e, I do believe that the rules, as it were, are quite different for us now, at least within the walls of Darcy House and any of my other personally held properties, do you not think? So is it to be Miss Bennet or Miss Elizabeth… or… Elizabeth? Or…” his voice dropped an octave as he slowed in his speech, “Or simply, Pet?”

  Her breath stalled in her lungs as he lifted his hand to cup the side of her face, his thumb slipping out across her lower lip. There were drops of water there, and he brushed them away.

  “P-pet?” she asked, stammering against the pad of his thumb as it touched her. Oh, she was being touched, and it both alarmed her and did something else that was altogether new at the same time. She had never been touched, not in that manner- not in the manner that was almost salacious, and very indecent.

  “Yes,” Mr. Darcy said, his voice as dark as his eyes, “Pet. My pet, my beautiful creature, my Elizabeth. For that is what you agreed to, is it not? To be mine, for a matter of a few weeks, and I would in return, thank you for the gift of your time and attention with the sum of thirty thousand pounds? Enough, I was assured, to set to rights the patched-up marriage of your youngest sister, to bring your widowed mother comfort, to add to dowries of your other two unwed sisters, and to make your own self an attractive prospective wife for any gentleman who cared to look the other way at how you acquired the monies.”

  The words, when written on paper, did not nearly sound so harsh as when they dropped from his lips, and Elizabeth was hard pressed not to turn right there and bolt from his room, grab her things and leave Darcy House.

  She’d make her way to her Aunt Gardiner’s home, who, with any luck would forgive her the folly of even considering to becoming the mistress of a great and grand gentleman as Mr. Darcy.

  But what would happen to her mother, removed from Longbourn due to the entailment after Mr. Bennet’s death? And what of Kitty and Mary, who had no suitors due to Lydia’s carelessness with her choice of intended husband?

  They would all go cold, hungry, and bereft of love and comfort.

  The very thought chilled Elizabeth so much that she did not slap Mr. Darcy’s hand away but merely nodded instead.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice steady for the first time that evening. “It is what I agreed to.”

  A rare smile split Mr. Darcy’s face, and he looked so very handsome that she forgot for a moment that he had asked her, a proper young lady, to debauch herself for him in exchanged for the monetary salvation of her family.

  “Excellent. While I realize that you did sign the paperwork with the solicitor, it was still beholden upon me to enquire about your agreement in person. I would not have been satisfied to move forward with our arrangement if I was not certain that you had agreed to it with full awareness of the details.” Mr. Darcy stepped back and Elizabeth took another long drag of the cool water, her hand shaking around the cut crystal.

  “I appreciate your diligence in regards to these fine particulars,” she said, and could not help but keep the dry sarcasm out of her voice. Mr. Darcy looked at her, his dark eyes flashing, and amused, if dangerous smile played across his lips.

  “I see that your personality has not dimmed, Pet, and I am pleased at that,” he said as he stepped once more into the sphere of her presence. She felt him, although he was a foot away from her, as if he were touching her right then. She had to look up at him, tilting her head for his height, and his smile turned ever more dark. “I look forward to seeing your personality shift and twist under my careful guidance,” he murmured, and a shiver ran down her back. “It will be… interesting to see the unmaking, and remaking of Elizabeth Bennet at my hands.”

  Two

  “The first thing Mr. Darcy shall ask of you, will be to present yourself for his very personal, very intimate inspection,” the solicitor said, giving Elizabeth the gimlet eye. A personal, intimate inspection? Lizzy felt her heart fluttering in her throat. Whatever… whatever could that mean, precisely?

  * * *

  “I see you are dressed as I had requested,” Mr. Darcy said as his eyes swept low over her person, admiring the curves of her figure under the soft, diaphanous fabric that made up her gown. Elizabeth felt her cheeks going pink under his acute examination of her person, and wondered, perhaps, if this was the personal, intimate inspection that the solicitor had hinted at when they had first met to go over the contract’s stipulations.

  “Yes, Master Darcy,” Elizabeth murmured, keeping her eyes cast low even as she tried to sneak glances at him through her lashes. Mr. Darcy smiled at her use of his title.

  “I have a correction, if you will, mostly, I believe I would prefer that you call me Sir, although Master Darcy is quite eloquent on your tongue… I am also partial to Sir, if you would be so kind, my pet,” he spoke as he pressed two fingers underneath her chin, lifting her jaw so she looked at him straight in the eyes. “Would you be able to oblige me in such a manner, Pet?”

  “Yes M-Sir,” she caught herself and quickly corrected the honorific as he wished to be called by. Mr. Darcy smiled at that.

  “Excellent,” he said, “then let us continue with my little inspection, shall we?” He leaned in close and pressed a soft, closed-mouth kiss on her cheek. The pink in her cheeks deepened to a red which she was most aware of as her skin burnt with the flush of it.

  “As you wish, Sir,” she said, her breaths coming in short, silent gasps as she struggled to contain her apprehension. Mr. Darcy looked at her and seemed to read her completely, but that did not stop him as he urged her into the middle of his room, onto a soft, plush bit of carpeting.

  “I think I shall have you out of those slippers,” he said as he nodded down to her feet which were shod in delicate white kid leather, stenciled over with a sky-blue motif and finished with two darker blue ribbons. They had to be most expensive, as the kid leather hugged her feet so comfortably she despaired ever having to return to the sturdier, and more hard-wearing boots that she had sported at Longbourn.

  Before she could slip her feet from her shoes herself, Mr. Darcy had gotten down onto his knees, of all things, and was slowly edging her petticoats up her legs.

  “Mr-“ she started, then stopped herself immediately, feeling scandalized. “Sir!”

  “Yes, Pet?” he asked, looking up at her with a smug expression on his face, as if he had expected her to voice protest to his actions. His hand rested on one foot, his thumb just touching the edge where her stockings peeped out of the slipper.

  “I… nothing,” she amended her earlier complaint abruptly. If he wished to remove her slippers himself, then perhaps she had best no argue with him. His smug expression turned into a full, distractingly attractive smirk, and he bent once more to his task.

  “For a moment I was under the impression that you might think to be the one giving orders, Pet,” he said gently as he eased one foot, then the other out of her slippers. His hand cast around one ankle, stroking the muscle as he slid it up her calf. She shivered at such intimate caresses… she had never in her life been touched in such a manner, and she was horrified to find herself… rather enjoying it. She warred with the emotion, ignoring it as best she could. At least, she ignored until his hand wrapped around her knee and tugged at the stockings she wore.

  Elizabeth let out a soft whimper of surprise, a rush of heat flashing through her body as he pulled her stockings down her legs. His hands were warm on her bare skin, she was shocked to find. He caressed and stroked at the pale flesh of her legs for several moments.

  “Part your knees for me, my sweet one,” he murmured, “and hold your skirts up so that I might see you.”

  Surely he could not mean… her cheeks flushed with shame as she did as he requested, her fingers fisting in the fabric of her skirts. The cool air of the room brushed over her knees, then her thighs, even protected as they were by her pantalettes.

  “Higher,” he urged her, nodding to her skirts. She noted that his voice was rough, as if he were struggling to control the timbre of it. She pulled her skirts
ever higher, completely showing him her pantalettes where they were tied to her waist.

  She felt a familiar tug, and she had to contain her whimper of astonishment as her pantalettes fell away.

  It was then the true meaning of personal and intimate inspection came to her. Mr. Darcy made a low noise, part growl, part sigh, and his hands slid up her thighs. She tried not to tremble, and instead closed her eyes so she would not have to see the top of his head as he looked at her most delicate, most intimate areas of womanhood.

  “I had not bothered to have the solicitor confirm that you were intact,” Mr. Darcy said in a frank manner that gave her no other hint as to what he meant other than her maidenhead. “I did not think such a thing was necessary to send you to a physician for such an examination… as well, the thought of another man looking upon you in such a way truly inspires the most fearsome rage to beat within my chest…” Mr. Darcy trailed off and stroked her thighs again before slipping his fingers up between her legs to the secret place where they met.

  “So I shall ensure that you are, as I hoped, intact, whole, perfect, untouched… except for by me,” the dark tone of his voice made her shiver. What could he possibly… mean by his comments? Surely he did not intend to truly check to see if she was-

  His fingers stroked along the soft skin of her mound and she let out a rush of air that had bubbled up from her chest. It was then she truly realized his full intentions.

  He muttered under his breath, and she had to glance away from the top of his head as she ached to hold her thighs open for him.

  “Sir, please…” she finally said after some minutes had passed, with him continuing to do nothing but stroke her with gentle, idle fingers. The rough pad of his thumb pressed inward, parting her ever just so slightly, and she choked on her breath. “Sir!”

  “What is it, my Elizabeth,” he asked her, the possessive way he said her name not lost on her at all. She gulped another lungful of air and then looked down at him. He had a thoroughly amused smile on his face as he sat back on his haunches.