Charlotte, Sir Richard... And Mr Darcy Read online

  “Only the thought that I have enjoyed myself so much here, away from the parsonage. It has opened new windows in my mind: perhaps it was the opportunity to sketch unfamiliar scenes and landscapes. Mr Collins does not encourage my artistic leanings.”

  “Then we must have you back soon!” she said. “And we must invite other friends from the county to meet you. And you can sketch them.”

  “Eliza, you are too generous. I would not wish to presume on your generosity. Besides, how can I slip away from my husband's side so easily again?”

  “I am sure you can find an opportunity sometime. Just be patient.”

  “Charlotte looks pale this evening,” Eliza announced to the gentlemen when they came to join them. “Do you not agree, Darcy?”

  “Is there anything that displeases you, Mrs Collins?”

  “Only the thought that she has to return to the parsonage one day soon,” Eliza interjected before Charlotte had a chance to respond.

  “Perhaps you need some fresh air,” Sir Richard suggested. “Would you care to join me on the terrace?”

  She rose to her feet and followed him through the French windows. The sunset glowed over the treetops in the distance; he gestured her to take a seat opposite him on the terrace.

  “Remember what I said, Mrs Collins. You are always very welcome to visit me whenever you wish. I am sure Mr Collins takes overnight excursions occasionally? You could avail yourself of an opportunity on one of those occasions. My estate is nowhere near as grand as Pemberley, but I can assure you that attending to all your personal needs would be my utmost priority.”

  “I shall remember this time for ever, Sir Richard. I wish I could attend to all your personal needs in whatever means may be at my disposal.” With that, she rose to her feet, pulled up her skirt, lifted her leg and rested a foot on the edge of the chair, exposing her private parts to him in the dim light.

  Without a second thought, his hand flew down to his crotch to adjust himself. She noticed that he blushed slightly. “Would you care to take a turn with me in the garden, madam?” he asked.

  They rose together and strolled towards the bushes. He looked anxiously back at the house to see whether Mr and Mrs Darcy were observing them. Most of the servants would have retired by now, and this afforded them the privacy they both craved.

  “Darcy's gardener planted some rhododendron bushes here two or three years ago,” he said. “They have only been introduced into this country in the last ten or twenty years. Would you like to come and examine them?”

  “I know nothing about horticulture,” she said.

  “That does not matter in the least. What interests me about the rhododendron is its size. Can you see?” He pointed to a range of tall bushes in the distance. “This provides us with all the privacy we need.”

  They advanced a few paces further, walking behind the giant rhododendron bush where their actions would be unseen by the rest of the world.

  “Lift up your skirt,” he whispered. “I want to look at you again.”

  Once she had done so, she watched as he unbuttoned his drop front; his erection was already fully-formed and ready for any kind of intimacy. He looked down at her crotch, and began stroking himself.

  “Open your legs wider,” he said softly. “I must see. I can't wait. I'm sorry.” He put his hand forward to touch her private parts; his fingers slipped into her vagina and straight out again, returning to caress his shaft. His face was contorted in ecstasy, stiff in concentration as he worked his semen through its course.

  He groaned as his orgasm finally arrived. She was worried that the noise might disturb others in the house, but could not take his eyes off his penis as he forced out the droplets of seed from within. The first shots arrived with such force that they splashed her thigh, and the remaining cream globules fell to the ground to fertilise the earth. “And now it's your turn,” he whispered. “Turn round please.”

  She obeyed, and wondered what he had in mind, since his erection had faded and his passion was spent. She felt him pull up the back of her gown as far as her waist, and felt his limp member resting in the cheeks of her butt. His hand came round her waist and rested itself on her pubis; his middle finger began to stroke her little bud.

  Although he had no power left in himself to make love to her again just yet, he jerked his pelvis against hers, in imitation of the sex act, while he continued to masturbate her with his finger in the same rhythm. His other hand stretched round to cup her breast and to fondle her nipple. His palm steadied her body as he rammed himself against her repeatedly. She gasped at each thrust, and reversed her butt time and again against his pelvis. A feeling of wild frenzy overcame her; it would not take long for her to reach her climax. An image of Eliza exposing herself to him now entered her mind and increased her longing to have this man for herself forever. But she knew this could never be.

  When the peak of her rapture came, she could not subdue a gasp as her whole body trembled; in response to this sound, he kissed the back of her neck. When the intensity of the moment had passed, she turned round to him and they clasped each other’s bodies in a blissful silence.

  “Walden! Are you still out there?” Darcy called out. “It’ll be dark soon!”

  Charlotte put her head round the rhododendron bush and looked out at the house. Darcy was standing on the terrace, looking out at the garden.

  “Here we are!” Sir Richard responded, buttoning the drop front of his breeches. “We didn’t go too far.” And then, turning to Charlotte, he suggested they return to the house to allay any suspicion.

  The four of them sat in the drawing room, playing cards for two uneventful hours. When Charlotte finally retired to her room, the maid Sarah was sitting outside, waiting for her. “I’m surprised that you’re still up so late,” she remarked. “There was no need for you to linger.”

  “I’ve come to assist you, Madam. Mrs Darcy insisted that I serve you in any way possible. Her maid always helps her when she retires in the evening.”

  Charlotte undressed and passed each item to Sarah to hang up or to fold away.

  “I‘ll take this away and have it cleaned,” the maid was saying, holding up her shift. “It will be dry and ready for you by the morning.”

  She paid little attention to her actions; she only wanted to go to bed. It did not take her long to fall asleep; the soft eiderdown was so much more pleasant than the hard bed in which she had been sleeping at the East Lodge.

  Suddenly, she heard a door banging. She tried to get back to sleep, without success; after a few minutes, she decided to get up and, taking a candle, went to part the drapes at the window and gaze upon the view outside. There, the full moon lit up the lake and provided a breathtaking vista which she knew she had to capture in her sketchbook. She no longer felt tired.

  Taking the picture she had begun earlier, before she had drawn the two erotic sketches of Eliza and Sir Richard, she modified it to reflect the night-time ambience of the estate before her. The silence was interrupted by the cries of two voices, which seemed to come from the next chamber. Was somebody in pain? She wondered. Should she summon a servant?

  She decided to go out of her room and stand at the door of the neighbouring chamber. She heard the sound again, and noticed that the door was very slightly ajar. Through the inch wide crack, in the dim candlelight, she saw Darcy and Sir Richard together. Sir Richard was bent over a low chair, his nightshirt up to his waist, while Darcy was thrusting himself into his guest's anus. They were occasionally whispering, but she could not make out their conversation.

  Charlotte stood riveted to the spot, staring wide-eyed at the spectacle. Did Eliza know of this liaison? she wondered. It was not her place to disclose household secrets. She continued to stand in the corridor, looking into the room, as they continued to make love. She heard them gasping with each movement they made. Bending her body forward, copying Sir Richard’s posture, she began began rubbing her crotch. But this was not enough; she wanted to feel the sensation
s that he was experiencing, and so moved her finger round to her anus, through her nightgown, and poked her finger into herself, moving in time with the men's activity.

  She continued watching until she heard Darcy cry out in the moment of his climax. As soon as he pulled away from Sir Richard, she decided it was time to retire to her chamber once again. She put her hand on her crotch and began stroking herself once more. Her mind was spinning wildly, and knew that a return to sleep was impossible now. She heard footsteps outside in the corridor as Darcy left Sir Richard's chamber.

  Had he been visiting his intimate friend every night during his visit to Pemberley? she wondered. She returned to sketching the nocturnal panorama at the window.

  A little less than an hour later, she heard footsteps padding along the corridor outside her room once more; they were lighter this time, and certainly not those of Darcy. The neighbouring door opened softly, and then the sound of low voices. She went to her own door and opened it in the hope of listening to the clandestine activity.

  “It was impossible to do this while Lady Catherine was here,” said a female voice. “She is such a light sleeper.” Charlotte identified the voice immediately; it was Eliza. What was she doing in Sir Richard’s chamber? She had to find out.

  Quietly, she rose once again and crept down the corridor and bent her ear to Sir Richard’s door, which was - once again - slightly ajar. Stealthily, silently, she pushed her head round the door.

  But it wasn’t Eliza. It was a young blonde woman. “What would you have me do, Sir?” she asked. “I’m wet down there already, just thinking of you. But I don’t want to do anything that might risk getting me pregnant.”

  “Then I’ll lick you dry, my dear. Did you bring the… the garment?”

  In the gloom, Charlotte watched as she handed him a white object. He put it to his nose, inhaled it, and tossed it on the bed. “Perfect,” he whispered.

  She looked carefully at the woman’s face. It was Sarah, the maid whom Eliza had assigned to look after her. And the garment was her own shift, the one that she had offered to take to the laundry when Charlotte retired to bed.

  Sir Richard got down on the floor, looking up at the ceiling, while Sarah pulled up her nightgown and squatted over his face. Behind her back, he grasped his erection and began to stroke it.

  “Oh, that’s gorgeous!” she whispered.

  Charlotte’s finger flew once again to her crotch and began to work herself into a frenzy, imagining her finger was Sir Richard’s tongue, licking her dry. But the more she rubbed, the wetter she became. When her orgasm arrived, her knees shook and she had to lean against the wall in the corridor to steady herself. She hoped nobody would see her in this state.

  “And now it’s your turn, Sir,” the maid laughed.

  Returning her attention to the slim crack in the open door, Charlotte peered through. Sir Richard was now standing, and Sarah knelt before him; she had his penis in her mouth and was giving him fellatio. At the same time, he was holding Charlotte’s soiled shift, and was sniffing it for traces of her juices where she had wiped herself after the previous day’s excitement.

  “The lady must be very special to you, Sir,” Sarah was saying as she released him from her mouth for a moment.

  “Yes,” he gasped as she resumed her activity. “But we all crave that which we can never have. And inhaling the odour of her passion is as close to her now as I can ever be.” In a few moments more, he ejaculated; Charlotte watched as his semen foamed in the corner of Sarah’s mouth.

  Startled at Sir Richard’s confession during a flash of intense emotion, she crept quickly back to her chamber and hid herself under the bedclothes. She had no idea about his feelings for her. But it was a relationship that society cruelly denied them, even if she were not already married.

  Tossing and turning in bed, Charlotte could not take her mind away from what she had seen in Sir Richard’s room. She pulled out her sketchbook and busied herself for the next two hours in candlelight. First, she drew Darcy and Sir Richard as she remembered them in the moments just before Darcy’s orgasm; next, Sir Richard standing before a kneeling Sarah as she sucked the seed from his manhood, and finally - the scene that evoked the most erotic sensation for her - she drew Sarah, squatting over Sir Richard’s face as he licked dry her private parts. The candle flame died just as she finished her third sketch and she felt ready to submit herself to a serene slumber.

  The next morning, Sarah brought in her laundered shift, helped her to dress and assisted with her toilette. Hardly a word was spoken between the two of them; Charlotte was unaccustomed to having a personal maid who would attend upon her in such an intimate fashion. Besides, she had to confess that she was jealous of Sarah’s close relationship with Sir Richard; on the other hand, she reflected, she should be grateful to the servant as she was the instrument through which he had declared his feelings for her.

  Trying to be less cold to the servant, she thanked her for washing her shift. “It’s remarkable that you were able to get it dry so quickly.”

  “We allow the kitchen fire to stay burning overnight, madam. It was easy to have it ready for you.”

  It was a bright day and, after breakfast, Eliza suggested that the four of them should go for a ride in the park.

  Charlotte was not a confident horsewoman but had never yet fallen off her mount. Sir Richard promised to stay with her and they could ride at an easy pace. Once in the open countryside, Darcy and Eliza had ridden off at a gallop, like two children in competition with each other. Eliza was screaming with laughter as she tried to pursue her husband.

  “We can forget those two,” said Sir Richard. “Why don't we find a quiet spot and enjoy ourselves?”

  Charlotte said nothing but followed him to the edge of the woodland, where they dismounted, tethered their horses against a tree, and began to undress. Her excitement dissolved as soon as she heard a sound like a man calling from behind a mound close by. She quickly put on her gown and approached the source furtively. Was it a man? Or was it a wild animal?

  Through the thicket she observed Darcy and his wife copulating. She was on her back smiling up at him, her legs high in the air, while he rested on top, and was actively pushing himself into her.

  Hastily she returned to Sir Richard - who was now naked - and told him what she had seen.

  He grinned. “Are you a voyeur?” he asked. “I thought you were a well-adjusted young lady. They own this land, and they can do just as they please.”

  “No, I am not a pervert. But I do wish I had my sketchbook with me,” she admitted with a saucy grin.

  He smiled. “Do you do this frequently, then? Spying on people having sex? And recording their activity in graphic detail?”

  “No, of course not,” she protested.

  He looked serious for a moment. “Have you seen me with Darcy?”

  “No,” she lied. “Surely you don't.…”

  He laughed. “No, of course not. I'm just teasing. I wanted to get a reaction from you. Now let's relax and continue what we came here for.”

  As soon as she was undressed, she sank down on the grass and he fell on top of her. His erection slid into her easily; he began thrusting energetically and it did not take him long to reach a climax.

  But Charlotte found it difficult to concentrate, and hardly moved while he seized his gratification with her body. She realised that her carelessness had almost compromised her sketchbook. She must keep its contents a secret.

  “What's wrong?” he asked, recovering his breath after his intense activity.

  “I'm worried that Darcy and Eliza will catch us, just as easily as I saw them just now.”

  “I would like to think that they would be discreet if they were to see us together,” he said.

  After they dressed again, they rode back to the house at Pemberley, and Charlotte went straight to her room to refresh herself. As she burst open the door and entered, she saw Sarah in the corner of the chamber, holding her sketchbook; the maid
turned to Charlotte and looked startled.

  “I… I was just tidying up,” she stammered. Her face went red.

  “Give me that,” Charlotte cried. “It's my private journal.”

  Sarah grinned slyly and passed it to her. Charlotte returned her stare, uncertain whether she had already looked through it. She dared not take any risks. A loose sheet fell out from sketchbook and landed on the floor.

  Charlotte gasped. Luckily, it had landed face down.

  Sarah bent down quickly and picked it up. She turned it over and examined it. “I must say, madam, that you are such a gifted artist. I have been to several galleries, and this work is as good as any I have seen. She passed it back to Charlotte, who quickly stared at the sheet before putting it back inside her sketchbook.

  She sighed with relief. It was a sketch of the lake from her window, drawn while she was at the East Lodge. But she still could not be certain that Sarah had not seen the other contents, and she dared not take any risks. She dismissed Sarah, and sat down to think what she should do next.

  At all events, she did not relish her reputation sinking to that of a lecherous pornographer. She stood to lose everything in life - her friends, her position in society, her husband…

  The only safe course of action would be for her to leave Pemberley the next morning, for Sarah had an opportunity to tell her master and mistress what she had seen. If she had been compromised, the shame would be unbearable. How could she explain everything to her husband? He had no idea she had arranged this visit to Pemberley, much less that she was an aspiring artist. She went downstairs, and found Sir Richard in the library.

  “I must leave Pemberley immediately,” she announced.

  “Why?” he asked, surprised. “I thought your husband would be at his conference for another three days.”

  “I cannot stay. I must go as soon as possible. And I'm sorry, but I can't explain.”

  “Is it anything to do with what you saw in the park this morning?”

  “No. But please take my word that it is essential that I do not stay here longer than absolutely necessary.”