touchingly vulnerable look, and she pulled at the cloths that bound her hands and legs. When she was not successful at freeing herself, she demanded more forcefully, “Mr. Darcy, what are you doing to me?”
He trailed his fingers from her brow, down her cheek to her lips, and replied, “I like this dream. We can still duel verbally, but you can no longer misunderstand my meaning. I am mad for you, and I intend to ravish you now.”
Her eyes widened with fright. “A dream? Are you not a gentleman? How can you ravish a maiden, even in a dream?”
He laughed out loud, which made him look young and carefree. “I have often dreamed of making love to you before, teaching you the pleasures of man and woman. In my mind, you were always hesitant but responsive. I have had much pleasure from you. But I never before dreamed of ravishing you with your hands bound. I’ll wager that my gentlemanly nature has lessened under the pressure of your tempting allurements over these past few days.” He grazed his cheek on her breasts roughly, then slipped his hands under her nightdress and gently squeezed her inner thighs, pretending to be a rogue.
She felt less frightened, reassured by his smile, half-convinced that it was indeed a dream. But his manly ministrations made her heart jump. Something not right. “You dreamt of making me yours? I do not believe it! You said I was not handsome enough to tempt you! You must be just a scoundrel who takes pleasure in trifling with gentlewomen.”
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
“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.
