“Willie, your moustache itches!” complained the younger man wearing a hat.
“You are the one who insisted I wear a fake moustache, Elizabeth. Now you must bear with the consequences.”
“Shh! Remember to call me Eli, not Elizabeth, or you shall give me away! I am much better than you in this deception. At least I remembered to call you Willie, instead of Fitzwilliam.”
“I protest! Willie is a most indecent name. Call me Will or William.”
Small wonder. Indeed, for the two ‘gentlemen’ in question were Mr. Darcy and his new wife, the former Miss Elizabeth Bennet, in disguise.
The day that Jane and Elizabeth married Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy in a double wedding was the proudest day of their mother’s life. Although the ceremony had been arranged within the short notice of two weeks, everything turned out perfectly for Mrs. Bennet. No expense was spared by the bridegrooms, and the brides wore the most elegant silk dresses, made by an exclusive modiste in London.
Longbourn Church and the Meryton Assembly, which were used for the ceremony and the wedding breakfast, respectively, were decorated lavishly for the auspicious occasion. The breakfast included an array of expensive and exotic foods and wine that took Mrs. Bennet's fancy. She was the envy of the entire town, and actually of London and Derbyshire, as well, which was a far cry from the public pity she had received some half a year earlier when her youngest daughter was rumoured to have eloped with a red coat and then killed during a lover's brawl. Most friends and families of the couples were present, except for Miss Bingley and Lady Catherine.
Mr. and Mrs. Darcy spent their wedding night and two lazy weeks in seclusion at their London townhouse. Mr. Darcy gave most of the servants two weeks’ leave, and the couple did not receive any guest for the duration. On the wedding night, he volunteered to serve as Elizabeth’s lady’s maid, and prepared her for the night. They did not get much sleep until late morning of the next day because the eager bridegroom wanted to prove that he could make his wife feel wanton, even without the aid of witchcraft.
He succeeded, beyond any dispute or complaint from his wife.
The late-morning awakening routine became a pattern for the first two weeks, and their blissful unions took place in nearly every room in the townhouse.
Mr. Darcy had then arranged the current trip to find Ipswich the Good Witch. He would not rest easy until he knew for certain that the witchcraft would not cause his dear wife any permanent harm. He had originally intended to part with his wife for a few days, in order to settle the matter, but Elizabeth would have none of that. She did not want him to be in danger either, and she did not want to separate from him just yet, so soon after the wedding. In the end, she persuaded him to allow her to accompany him in disguise, just as they had when they embarked upon the ill-fated search for Mr. Wickham and Miss Lydia.
Mr. Darcy enjoyed the privilege of personally binding her bosom again, taking the time to fondle and kiss her dazzling breasts. On this occasion, he also confided to her many of his wayward and more serious thoughts from their previous sojourn together in the fisherman hut. Elizabeth lightened the mood by challenging him to properly scratch his bulge and display his manly asset by sitting with his legs apart. She also teased him about his talkative drunken ramblings and his not-so-tolerable singing. Their playful banter and touches soon led to a long and tender coupling that caused their departure from London to be delayed for nearly an hour.
Midway into the journey, Darcy pulled Elizabeth to straddle his lap, and proceeded to graze her ears, cheeks and mouth with his kisses. Despite Elizabeth’s protest about his fake moustache, he continued the exploration, and his hands wandered down her body.
“I forbid you to wear trousers in the future. It is most inconvenient,” Darcy soon objected.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened with surprise. “Fitzwilliam, you are not thinking… indeed you are not…?”
Darcy smiled devilishly. “Now who is the one who has forgotten about the disguise? And whyever could we not?”
He then pushed her away from him and pulled both his and her trousers down before hauling the stunned Elizabeth to sit back up on his thighs again, only this time facing away from him. He licked and suckled her neck and earlobes from behind. The bumpy movements of the carriage and his ministrations, as well as her own dishabille, soon excited her and made her wet. He felt her blazing heat as well. His manhood was hard and stood magnificently, demanding attention. He quickly lifted her enough to lower her onto his shaft.
The incredible sensation of having connected with her felt wonderful. He squeezed his eyes shut to savour it. After a short while, he held her waist and helped her to raise and lower her body onto him in a slow rhythm.
Elizabeth was an apt student and soon did not require his assistance. She raised her hands to hold his head firmly to her neck from behind and bounced on his thighs with vigour. She squirmed and rubbed against him when he was deep inside her. She bit her lips hard to prevent moaning out loud. This was such a novel situation to her that she soon felt the tightening of some unknown muscles. She pulled his hand to her mouth and bit onto him to muffle her cry when she reached her peak.
Darcy winced at the pain, but he was also shivering with his own needs. When she stopped the bouncing movement, he held her waist again and thrust vigorously into her from beneath. Not long afterwards, he reached his climax and buried his face against her back to drown out his own loud moans of pleasure.
After this wild coupling, the pair tidied themselves as best they could and drifted off to sleep, well-pleased with married life and with one another.
Later in the day, the carriage slowed to a stop. The couple exited the carriage and Mr. Darcy nodded to his head coachman, who was also somewhat in disguise, being dressed in less than his usual elegant clothing so that he might appear as an ordinary post driver.
Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth walked the rest of the way down the river and soon arrived at a small village which seemed to fit the description that had been wrested from Miss Bingley’s maid. Darcy's men had previously scouted several villages along River Orwell before returning with reports of a possible sighting of the witch in this particular village.
The disguised couple walked along, examining the houses and shops in the small village until they came upon a depilated hut near the bend of the river. As they approached, they heard voices arguing from inside, and one of those voices sounded very like…
“Is it not Miss Bingley?” Elizabeth whispered to her husband.
“I believe so.” He said.
“Should we go in or wait?”
He looked around. As the hut was in an obscured location, away from the main village, she thought it prudent to wait. So decided, he signaled for his wife to walk quietly to the side of the hut. Through the slightly opened window, they were able to hear and see what went on inside.
Miss Bingley had her hands on her hips and was shouting loudly at an elderly woman dressed in rags. The old lady was sitting in front of a small table.
“You must reverse your witchcraft! I cannot have my eyes permanently criss-crossed and nose twisted. How am I to appear in public, or attend balls, or find a rich husband? I shall be ridiculed by the ton.” The angry voice of Miss Bingley was loud and clear.
“Follow the ritual or hell shall break loose. I told you that.”
“I shall pay you another sum to turn me back into a beautiful woman.”
“That you won’t. Yer body's been touched by the Devil. No witch can handle further.”
“Then I am going to kill you, you ugly old witch!” Miss Bingley screamed, and lunged onto the old lady. Outside, Elizabeth and Darcy gasped and were preparing to burst into the hut to rescue the elderly witch, but green smoke exploded from inside.