Enid Wilson - My Darcy Mutates…

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.

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.”

“Lizzy, you are very quiet. What silly idea do you have, in addition to those of your sisters?” Mr. Bennet asked.

“I think all of them seem to make sense.” Elizabeth said.

“What? Are you out of your mind?” Mr. Bennet could not believe that his clever, favourite child could entertain such an idea.

“I say that we should hide you when the militia comes, and that I shall disguise myself as a man and go in your place,” she announced with a determined glint in her eye.

“I thought of the idea first,” Lydia exclaimed. “Let me go!”

“No, Lydia. Let Lizzy go.” Mrs. Bennet took a protesting Lydia to one side, for Lydia was her favourite, and she did not want her to be sacrificed for her elderly father. She whispered to her, “Did you not hear that the enemy tortures and kills the members of our army? Your Aunt Philips said that the River Thames has turned pink from the blood of our men, and that Hoyden Park was covered with the remains of red coats.”

“But she does not live near the River Thames or Hoyden Park. How can she be certain?” Lydia argued. “I want to be in a camp full of soldiers!”

“I shall make you some red coats with old muslin and ribbon,” Mrs. Bennet said. “I am sure that, in no time, the war will end and men will return to court you. You are the tallest and have the liveliest disposition.”

The compliments seemed to do the trick, soothing Lydia’s ego. With a pout, she agreed and walked away.

When the sun rose the next day, several officers came to Longbourn. Before they could search the house, Elizabeth, dressed in gentleman’s clothes, volunteered to go with them. The officers were happy to be met with such co-operation, and they did not bother to search for other men at Longbourn.

Elizabeth thought she would be assigned to do some manual job befitting a fit young “man” from the countryside. Instead, she was given several tests, upon arriving at the camp near Londonland, and was ranked as a Colonel and sent to work as General Darcy’s assistant.

Before she entered the great man’s office, she heard a deep voice saying, “This Bennet scored well in the test. But are you sure he is not a fake? I cannot believe that a savage neighbourhood like Meryton can produce a person with such fine qualities and intelligence.”

Elizabeth saw red. She had no interest in serving this arrogant man. She decided that she would taunt him whenever she could, hoping for a transfer soon.

When she entered the room, she was shocked by the sight. General Darcy was alone, except for a tiny grey kangaroo with a smiling face. Who had he been talking to?

Most militia wore a red coat, buttoned up from head to toe, like she herself. But General Darcy wore something altogether different. Indeed, he did not wear anything at all except a short leather kilt and a pair of long leather boots. He was exceptionally tall, perhaps six foot five. His shoulders were broad and his chest muscles looked hard.

Elizabeth had a great urge to put her pale hands against his browned chest, just to see the contrast.

“Welcome, Bennet.” A friendly sound woke her from her revel. The kangaroo had spoken!

“Bingley at your service.” He bounced towards her and extended his paw. “I am General Darcy’s advisor.”

Darcy snorted. “He is my sister’s pet. Now stop staring at my body and sit down. I want to test you myself.”

When he turned to walk to his desk, Elizabeth’s gaze followed the swaying of the leather kilt, and the sight of his hairy legs. She gulped for air and followed him immediately. All thought of demanding a transfer seemed to have drained out of her head.

Darcy opened the cabinet behind him and took out a bottle of red wine. He poured one glass for Elizabeth and one for himself.

“Drink up!” he commanded.

Elizabeth held his gaze and drank it.

He gulped down his wine and scowled at her. “Too slow.” He poured another glass for each of them.

She did as she was told and swallowed the second glass more quickly. Not a word was spoken between them; the only communication was their hot stares, as four bottles were consumed.

“See? I told you Bennet was good.” Bingley laughed. “I will leave you two.” He bounced out of the room and closed the door.

“You are …not bad,” Darcy said as he stood up unsteadily to clap Elizabeth on the shoulder. The move overbalanced them both, and they ended up crashing down onto the floor, with her pinned under him. Both immediately fell into a drunken sleep.