My Darcy Mutates… Read online

  Mr. Darcy lowered his mouth and nibbled her upper lip until she was left breathless. “I apologize,” he murmured at last. “I had not the heart to socialise when I first arrived in Hertfordshire. My sister had not yet fully recovered from a disheartening experience during the summer. I was preoccupied and worried about her. But I had not had the heart to refuse Bingley’s invitation either, as he has been such a good friend to me. I had not even looked at you properly when I said those words. Not long thereafter, I realised that I found your form light and pleasing, your wit challenging, and your attitude altogether refreshing.” He rubbed his body against her side and said, “You see? I am all hot and hard now. I find you more than tempting. And I am no scoundrel. I have not trifled with any maiden before. I swear. You were my wife when you laid with me in the dreams.”

  He saw her face turn bright red, and her breathing became shallow. “Your wife? Then your intentions are honourable? You do not look down upon the society of Meryton? The reason you did not speak to us was not because you considered us confined and unvarying?”

  He pressed his fingertips against her neck, feeling the fast pulsation of her blood. Then he lowered his hands to cup her breasts, and watched with satisfaction while her expression grew dazed as he squeezed and kneaded the creamy twin peaks. He did not feel called upon to explain himself. This was a dream, was it not? He would much rather enjoy her heavenly body. However, ever the true gentleman, he replied, “Pemberley is situated in the country, too. I love the country better than town. I am just not very good at conversing with strangers.” He then remembered her words of the other day. His hands stopped and he asked uncertainly, “Do you indeed find me vain and prideful?”

  She could hardly gather her wits. Suppressing a moan at the cessation of his caresses, she said, “You slighted me at our first meeting. You did not talk to people at our gatherings. I fear I drew an unfortunate conclusion.”

  But her tactful wording did not suffice. Mr. Darcy was so disappointed that he stopped his ministrations, and drew the unbuttoned halves of her bodice together to cover her bosom. Then he sat up and, with difficulty, untied her. “I thought you welcomed me. You defended me to your mother. You challenged my thinking at every turn. I thought that was your way to make me aware of you and flirt with me. You attracted me more than I liked. I even decided that no sign of admiration should escape me, nothing that could elevate you with the hope of influencing my felicity. How very wrong I am!”

  Freed, Elizabeth sat up as well. She pulled the bed sheet up to cover herself. “I am truly confused. You did not want me to have hope in you, and yet in your dream, you made me your wife.”

  Mr. Darcy stood up and paced the room, then stopped suddenly before her and, without warning, poured his heart out. “What could I do? In vain I have struggled. My feelings will not be repressed. I admire and love you ardently. But could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? To congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own? And the situation of your mother's family, though objectionable, is nothing in comparison to that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed by herself and by your three younger sisters.”

  Stung, Elizabeth stood up, hands on her hips, and replied, “I find your address both offending and insulting. I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. From the very beginning, from the first moment, I may almost say, of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your …”

  “Stop!” The sudden sound of an elderly woman’s voice made Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth whirl around in surprise. They stiffened at the sight of an elderly couple sitting on the bed they had so recently vacated.

  “Who are you?” Mr. Darcy said.

  “What are you doing here?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I am Mrs. Emma Knightley, and this is my husband, George.” The elderly woman turned slightly as she introduced the elderly man. When her body moved, the moonlight seemed to dim. Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth’s eyes widened on seeing that the bodies of their strange visitors were almost transparent. Indeed, they could see through the elderly couple to the other side of the room.

  Elizabeth gasped, then threw herself against Mr. Darcy. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she cried out in alarm, “Is this still a dream? Are they ghosts?”

  “I warned you, Emma, that you would scare them to death!” Mr. Knightley said.

  “Do not be afraid, Miss Elizabeth. We are good ghosts, and this is not a dream. It is Samhain{1}, the time when we can appear in the living world. I know that Mr. Darcy truly loves you. I only wanted him to admit to wanting you as his wife, and to see the two of you happily together.”

  Mr. Darcy was shaken, as well. He wrapped his arms protectively around Elizabeth and pulled her as tightly against him as possible. But, as a man, he vowed to be brave. “Mrs. Knightley,” he said, firmly addressing the lady ghost, “I do not appreciate your interference. I am an adult, and I know what is best for myself. As it happens, your actions did not help. Miss Bennet found my admiration…wanting.”

  “Bah! She found your address wanting. Young man, you cannot tell a woman that you love her, in one breath, and then insult her family, in another next. You will be marrying her, not her family. Your aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh is as objectionable, in her way, as any of the Bennet ladies. You should be ashamed of yourself. And did you think clearly about your own character? Your ten thousand a year cannot tempt this girl to marry you. You will need to mend your arrogant ways and truly cherish her. Now, take this frightened young girl to bed and do your manly best to please her.”

  “Emma!” Mr. Knightley chastised his wife.

  “What? This young man has certainly thought about ravishing her often enough. Why should I pretend that he has had no such thoughts, now that Miss Bennet is in his arms and the doors cannot be opened?”

  At that, Mr. Darcy released Elizabeth just long enough to check on the door to the corridor. The lock was twisted, as if it had been smashed by a hammer. He pulled at it a few times, but it would not move at all. He then walked to the door that opened to the servants’ entrance. It was in a similar state.

  “What kind of ghosts are you? You brought me here, bound Miss Bennet, and made the locks unworkable, all in the name of matchmaking. Have you no shame? I demand that you fix the doors immediately.”

  Mr. Knightley defended his wife, “Emma did not transport you here, nor did we bind Miss Elizabeth or damage the locks. It was all Churchill’s doing. He is a spineless ghost who enjoys playing twisted jokes on the living. And, although I am sorry to disappoint you, we do not possess the magical power to undo what he has done.”

  Elizabeth gasped in distress. “Oh, please! You can pass through walls. Can you not take Mr. Darcy to his bedroom that way? He cannot be found in here in the morning!” she pleaded.

  “We are ghosts, and so we can indeed go through walls. But Mr. Darcy is alive. He cannot. Do you want me to kill him and shove his body out of the window, all so that your reputation can remain unsullied?” Emma asked, baring her teeth.

  “No!” cried Elizabeth and Knightley together.

  Elizabeth ran back to Darcy and held onto him tightly. “Mr. Darcy is a good brother and a good friend. And he has many tenants who depend upon him. I would not have such a man harmed simply to protect my reputation.” Elizabeth said indignantly from within the sheltering curve of his arm.

  Emma adopted a menacing countenance. “But you do not like him. He has seen you in almost your full glory. How can you marry another? Is it not better that he be dead?”

  “No,” Elizabeth objected staunchly. “I was only prejudiced against him in the past, disappointed that such a handsome and eligible man found me lacking. Now that I know his true feelings, if he can bear with my family, I would be most happy to accept him.”

  Emma clapped her hands. “Excellent! And what do you say, young man?”
/>
  Mr. Darcy held tight to Elizabeth, also fearing for his life, as there was no telling how a ghost might act. “Elizabeth, I apologize for looking down on your relations. I would be most honoured if you would consent to be my wife.”

  She nodded and whispered, “It will be my honour!”

  “Marvelous!” Emma cheered. “Now, young man, take her to bed and start making babes. I promise that we will not peek. I shall even keep Jane and Frank Churchill away. But I will not leave entirely until I hear her maidenly cries of ecstasy,” Emma declared, then disappeared in a puff of white.

  Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth turned bright red.

  Mr. Knightley cleared his throat. “I am sorry, Mr. Darcy and Miss Bennet. You need not do as Emma said. I shall try to keep her out of here. Either way, it is almost dawn. She and I will need to return to the land of darkness soon.” With that, Mr. Knightley bowed and disappeared, as well.

  At that, Elizabeth fainted. Had she not swooned and required his strong arms, Mr. Darcy thought that he himself might well have fainted from fear, as well.

  Rallying, he swept her up in his arms and placed her on the bed. Going to the wash stand, he dampened a cloth, then returned to the bedside to press it to her forehead and throat, his hands shaking.

  Words rose, unbidden, to his lips and spilled forth, baring his deepest thoughts and feelings. “Elizabeth, I love you. Please do not fall ill from the shock of this night. I shall truly honour my promise to marry and cherish you. I shall learn to bear with your relations. Mrs. Knightley, though overbearing, was right. I have been a selfish being, all my life. As a child, I was taught to care for none beyond my own family circle, and to think lowly of all the rest of the world. Such I was, from eight to eight-and-twenty; and such I might still be but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You have taught me a lesson, one that was hard indeed, at first, but one that is most advantageous. Please wake up, Elizabeth, and say again that you will be mine.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes slowly opened. She had heard his entire whole-hearted declaration, and she now reached up to caress his face with the gentlest of hands.

  “Mr. Darcy, you must forgive me, as well. I was blinded by prejudice about your character and behaviour only because you slighted me. I took every chance I could to challenge you, in an attempt to show you that I was superior to the elegant ladies you had known. I was vain and prideful, as well. I did not know my own mind. I feel honoured and gratified that you love me…but I will not hold you to your promise. After all, it was only made under threat from the ghosts.”

  Mr. Darcy held her face and spoke with passionate regard. “Not so. My wishes and affection are unchanged. Elizabeth, marry me!”

  She returned his gaze and replied, in a firm, clear voice, “It is my honour, Mr. Darcy.”

  He lowered his head and gave her a passionate kiss…which led to another. And another. What better way was there to drive away fear with this, the most pleasant of pursuits? It was not long before Mr. Darcy was lying half atop of Elizabeth’s body, stroking her breast through the thin fabric of her night dress. He stopped and was about to steel himself to move away when she said, “Make me yours, Mr. Darcy! Please, teach me the pleasure of man and woman, just as in your dreams.”

  “Are you certain that this is what you want, my love? Are you sure that you are not still frightened by the threat from Mrs. Knightley?”

  Elizabeth sat up and shook her head. “I was actually…quite disappointed just now, when you stopped touching me.” Then she buried her head against his shoulder and murmured. “You must be disgusted by me. Such wanton behaviour! I declare, I am no better than Lydia!”

  Mr. Darcy eased her back onto the bed and cupped her face again. “Ah, but there is no shame in wanting your beloved. In fact, it will make our marriage bed most enjoyable. But your father may demand a long engagement. I would not want to have to confess to him that I had taken your virtue, or that we are forced to marry immediately because I have gotten you with child.”

  “Oh!” Elizabeth said, clearly disappointed.

  He chuckled. “But I know of many ways to teach you about the pleasures of the flesh without endangering your virtue. Do you trust me?”

  She nodded enthusiastically. Darcy smiled, and slowly removed her night dress. When she lay naked in front of his eyes, he was gobsmacked. She was beautiful, her manner shy and yet eager. He bestowed kisses upon her face, lips, shoulders, breasts, nipples, abdomen and down to her apex.

  When he parted her legs and licked her wet womanhood, she squirmed and moaned aloud, letting him know the pleasure he was giving her, encouraging him to do more. He tasted her folds and pressed his tongue into her entrance, in and out, mimicking the mating action, while his hands continued to cup and stroke her bosom.

  Elizabeth was overwhelmed. His hands and lips were like magic. She cried out loudly as she reached her climax. Her inner muscles convulsed and contracted, and she screamed in astonished delight, for the sensation was utterly unknown to her.

  When she finally stopped shivering and trembling, he lay by her side to catch his breath. Her peak had shaken his control; indeed, he had nearly come when her leg accidentally brushed against his shaft.

  As her wits returned, she asked, “May I… return the favour, my dear?” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity.

  “Are you certain?”

  “I am certain of nothing, unschooled as I am in these arts, and yet I hope that you will find me a most eager and determined pupil.”

  Ecstatic that she was proving to be so brave a woman, Mr. Darcy asked her permission to take off his night clothes. Although she averted her glance, she did not shy away when he did so and then pulled her on top on him. He stroked the curve of her pert bottom and moved her body up and down to tease his manhood. When her wet folds rubbed against him, his arousal, which had already been substantial, sprang even to attention. His breath caught, and he devoted himself to kissing her mouth and playing with her gorgeous breasts.

  Elizabeth, emboldened, soon braced her hands on his chest and rode him as she would have ridden a horse astride. Although he was not inside of her, she was excited by each contact with his velvety hard shaft, which pulsed and shook like a wayward and excited animal.

  Experiencing these ministrations, Darcy could not long bear to lie passively. Of a sudden, he turned her over and straddled her. Encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist, he played the head of his proud rod along her drenched womanhood, nearly maddened by the need not to claim her fully. He suckled her nipples in such a mad frenzy that it brought her to another climax. Instinctively, she tightened her legs around him, raising her body from the bed and twisting against him intimately.

  Unprepared for her wild action, Darcy reached his peak almost immediately. Wrenching aside, he gritted his teeth to stop the loud groan of satisfaction as his seed spilled onto the bed sheet. Then he collapsed on top of her.

  When the sun finally rose above the horizon, the ghosts returned to their world. While Elizabeth called for help to smash open the doors to her bedchamber, Mr. Darcy hid in the dressing room, and later returned to his room with no one the wiser concerning his nocturnal adventures.

  But when he and Mr. Bingley accompanied the Miss Bennets back to Longbourn, he lost no time in asking for permission to marry Miss Elizabeth.

  They were wed two months later, in a double ceremony with Bingley and Jane. During the weeks of their engagement, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth grew to know each other much better, and found that they were fine complements to each other, both in temperament and in their views about the world.

  There was, however, a sad incident that resulted from Bingley’s stay at Netherfield. It seemed that Miss Bingley had witnessed two ugly, elderly ghosts named Jane and Frank Churchill in a brawl in her bedchamber during the last night of October. She was frightened nearly to death, and fled to seek her sister Louisa’s help. After that, she refused to sleep alone, demanding that Louisa stay by her side. Bingley cancelled
the lease on Netherfield after his marriage and moved to an estate in Derbyshire, while Miss Bingley lived with her sister ever after.

  As for Emma Knightley, although she did not cause Miss Bingley’s fright, she received a thorough chiding from her husband. Mr. Knightley took her back to Hartfield, while Jane and Frank Churchill continued to haunt Netherfield Park.

  A few years later, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth named their second daughter Emma, in honour of the overbearing ghost who had so successfully brought along their earlier understanding.

  Fantasy

  Leather Kilt And Red Coat

  What if Mr. Darcy was a warlord?

  Once upon a time, in the deep southern world, there was a kingdom called Austenland. War was raging, and men were scarce there.

  After all of the servants had been recruited, the militia was asked to search every house for men, young or old, gentlemen or not, to serve the country. It was rumoured that the army would descend upon Meryton the next day, by dawn.

  Mrs. Bennet heard the news and went into hysterics.

  “Mr. Bennet! Mr. Bennet! What can we do? We have no son but five daughters. What if the red coats take you away? You might be killed, as you are old and weak. Then we will certainly be thrown out of Longbourn by that hateful Mr. Collins. Oh, my nerves!”

  “Ah, but my dear, Mr. Collins will have been taken away by the militia already, being the last man in Rosings and Hunsford,” Mr. Bennet replied calmly.

  “In times of great turmoil, we should all join our hands and strive for the greater glory of Austenland. Papa, I urge you to volunteer your service,” Mary declared.

  “Papa, perhaps you can talk some sense into the enemy when you meet them. Surely there is no need for fighting. and not every one can be that bad,” Jane murmured.

  Coughing, Kitty added timidly, “I would not mind meeting some red coats.”

  “La, I love red coats!” Lydia, the youngest daughter, jumped into the conversation. “I would love being handled by a camp full of soldiers.”