In Essentials

 

Click on the image to purchase

Blurb:

His mistress, rewarded with a substantial allowance, jewelry, and clothing was in all essentials Mrs. Darcy, except by name.

His wife, with low connections and vulgar relations, is Mrs. Darcy by name but in essentials, she is nothing more than a necessary evil to thwart the plans of his uncle the earl, as well as provide a legitimate heir to Pemberley

All too soon, Darcy realizes there are hidden depths to his petite wife, and finds himself completely fascinated by her beauty, intelligence, and wit.

Elizabeth, fully aware of why Mr. Darcy chose her as his wife, fights her growing attraction to the taciturn gentleman from Derbyshire, failing miserably. She is finally forced to acknowledge, that, in essentials, he is the only man who can make her happy.

First Chapter:

Mr. Thomas Bennet of Longbourn married Miss Sophia Jane Metcalf, the only daughter of Viscount Tuttreon. Their joy knew no bounds when less than two years after their nuptials, they had a beautiful baby girl, Jane Sophia, followed closely by Elizabeth Rose. Years passed and they despaired of ever having another child, let alone a son. Finally, Mrs. Sophia Bennet bore the long-awaited heir, however, mother and son passed away mere days after his birth.

Francis (Fanny) Gardiner, married to a local tradesman Sidney Moore in Meryton, had three daughters, Mary, Catherine, and Lydia. Mr. Moore never knew about the third child as Mrs. Moore did not feel the quickening until after his funeral. In all honesty, she was not sure if Mr. Moore was the father of little Lydia as her husband had not attended her bed faithfully as in the early years of their marriage. As it was, she had caught the eye of the butcher, who gave her lovely haunches of beef and pork for certain favors and fancied herself in love with the man. Sadly, he also was married.

With Mr. Moore silenced and safely tucked away next to the parish church, Francis Moore, née Gardiner, set her sights on the highly eligible widower of Longbourn manor. With less than a month remaining in his time of mourning, and before the man even knew what happened, she had arranged a compromise and within weeks was settled in at Longbourn as its mistress. The quiet courtship Mr. Bennet had initiated with his deceased wife’s cousin was now set aside as he was forced to do the honorable thing and marry the widow Moore. However, he never forgot and never forgave.

Trapped in a cold marriage, he vowed to ensure his daughters were never imposed upon by the vulgar woman and had little to do with the three who were not his own.

***

A tall gentleman stalked the edges of the assembly room, hating every minute he was forced to remain in the presence of complete strangers. The room stank of cheap tallow candles, unwashed bodies, and bad breath. More than that, it stank of desperation. Frantic mothers and fathers seeking to have their children wed. Male or female, it did not matter. The goal was to find a warm body to ensure a continued heritage and hopefully bring ready cash into the family coffers. In this regard, they were not too dissimilar to him, as he too, was on the hunt. But not for the same reasons.

Last week, his uncle had once again lambasted him for not marrying one of the many pedigreed debutantes paraded past him at endless balls and soirees, going so far as to challenge the guardianship of his younger sister if he did not comply with his demands. Tired of his mother’s brother trying to force him into marrying his choice of wife, and his mother’s sister demanding he marry her daughter, he decided he would find his own wife. And not just any wife. She would be vile, though not in looks. If he had to bed the wench, he wanted some form of beauty and a pleasing body. No, she would be someone who teetered on the edges of polite society. Preferably a gentleman’s daughter with vulgar connections. The more vulgar the better.

He had no need for more money or love. His mistress filled the latter of those requirements in more ways than one. His lips briefly curved as he remembered how she’d bid him farewell last night, knowing she would not see him until the new year. Straddled across his lower torso, she had raised and lowered herself, allowing him free reign with his mouth and hands. There was not a crack or crevice on her delectable body he was not familiar with, and after two years, still had not tired of her.

If he truly wished to have his uncle expire from an apoplectic fit, he’d marry her, but knew such a rash act would materially damage his sister’s chance of making a good marriage when she finally came out in society. He could never do that to sweet, innocent Georgiana, and after a near disaster this past summer, where he’d nearly lost her to his father’s loathsome godson, he had vowed to protect her until she married a good man.

A high-pitched shriek followed by giggles brought him back to his quest – finding a gentleman’s daughter who would horrify his mother’s family. Two females barreled past him. His gaze followed the pair of ladies, girls really, far too young to be out in society even in a backwater town like this. They skidded to a stop in front of a woman to whom he had avoided introductions. He’d caught the calculating gleam in her eye the minute he and his friend had entered the room and knew she had decided on the both of them as future sons-in-law.

At first, he’d dismissed her, but now, watching how her daughters behaved, his interest was piqued. His uncle would be devastated if he showed up with one of those empty-headed twits on his arm. Lost in thoughts of how to facilitate a belated introduction, his friend approached.

“Come, Darcy. I must have you dance.”

“Before we left Netherfield, I told you I would be poor company tonight.”

“Then let us acquaint you with someone pleasant who can drag you out of the doldrums. There are some very pretty girls here.”

“You are dancing with the only handsome woman in the room.”

His gaze fell on his friend’s partner, who remained on the dance floor, waiting for their turn to go down the line. She was not only handsome; she was divine. He surmised even a dead man would have felt stirrings of desire in the presence of her beauty. However, he was not here to find a beautiful woman to grace his bed, he had the delectable Daphne for that. What he needed was someone who was not perfect. Someone his uncle would loathe on sight.

“Yes, Miss Bennet is so very beautiful, but you will not distract me in this. I will find someone for you to dance with who is not my sister.”

“I thank you, but you should make your way back onto the dance floor and enjoy your partner’s smiles. You are wasting your time with me.”

“I say, there is a pleasant-looking lady just yonder. I could ask my partner to introduce us.”

Darcy looked over his shoulder and spotted a petite woman seated by herself, her foot tapping in time to the music. He caught her eye and paused. She was pretty, but not handsome enough to tempt him from his mission of finding an uncouth bride. About to decline Bingley’s offer of introduction, his attention was caught by the loud chit he’d noticed earlier. She plopped down in the empty chair next to the intriguing woman and huffed out a huge sigh.

“La, Lizzy! I am quite fagged. I need to catch my breath before the next dance.”

The young girl hadn’t lowered her voice nor did she seem to care about the fact she slouched in her chair like a drunken sailor. The woman, Lizzy, obviously did because she hissed something under her breath and the girl straightened, but not before a pout appeared on her face.

“Oh, who cares what they think. They mean nothing to me.”

The young woman grabbed the girl’s arm and hauled her to her feet before marching toward the vulgar woman, whom he assumed was their mother. Even from across the room it was obvious the matron berated the young lady, allowing the spoilt child to prance off, head held high without batting an eye at her coarse behavior. He smiled. This ‘Lizzy’ was perfect.

He turned to his friend.

“After your dance has ended, I would be pleased to meet the young lady.”

***

Elizabeth dared not raise her eyes, for then she would catch her breath – again. How did she, Elizabeth Rose Bennet, manage to solicit a request to dance from the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on? Never in her wildest dreams, and she had many, did she think something like this would happen to her. She had not failed to notice his entry. She choked back a soft snort. Who in Meryton had NOT noticed the Netherfield party when they finally arrived more than a half-hour after the dancing had begun? She would admit, her capricious sense of humor was tickled by their tardy entrance, and she had purposefully stayed to the back of the assembly room to avoid the mad rush of introductions. It was only when she’d clapped eyes on the tallest man of the group, she wished she had remained tethered to her stepmother’s side.

There was no missing his square jaw and proud thrust of his shoulders. He was tall and athletic, with chiseled features and a patrician nose. Hair the color of a raven’s wing brushed the edges of his stiff collar, and she could well imagine him running his fingers through those unruly curls. Or even better, her fingers teasing those dark locks. But what held her enthralled and completely tongue-tied were his eyes. Piercing blue beneath dark brows, and they were focused solely on her.

She clasped his hand to move down the line. Because it was a local assembly, none of the ladies wore gloves, and the fine hairs on her arm rose each time they touched. Did he feel it as well? For the first time in years, she had to concentrate on the steps of the dance and calm her breathing. It would not do to swoon in the middle of a country dance. So engrossed was she on remaining upright, she almost missed his question.

“Pardon, I did not hear over the noise of the crowd.”

“I asked if you are from Meryton, or if you were only visiting, like me.”

“We are from here, Mr. Darcy. My father’s estate is a little over a mile outside of Meryton.”

She thought she caught a gleam of satisfaction in his sharp gaze, which she admitted had roamed freely over her body a few times during the dance. She remained positive he did not think she’d taken note, but well used to the predatory way men leered at her more beautiful sister, she knew the signs of a man interested in his dance partner, and Mr. Darcy, for some reason, was very interested in her. It boggled the mind. No one sought her company over Jane’s unless they were biding time until their allotted set with her sister came up. She was a fount of knowledge to be tapped in order to gain access to Meryton’s beauty. However, this time… this time a gentleman of some stature had sought her introduction over Jane’s. Her stepmother had stood mouth agape when Mr. Darcy looked past Jane and honed in on her.

Ah, well. There was no accounting for taste. She would ride this feeling until the horse grew tired, which it would as no man wanted a wife who was more intelligent or more educated than he, something she discovered to her detriment when she was sixteen. No one told her she should let the gentleman win at chess. Was not the goal of the game to take your opponent’s king? It hadn’t helped he had muttered a pithy insult in French, to which she replied fluently what she thought of his crass manners.

When her opponent stormed from the manor, Mrs. Bennet had berated her soundly for letting a man of some means escape, while Papa laughed and told her next time to parry back in Latin or Greek. Then she was almost guaranteed the fool would not understand a word she said. To which she’d replied, “A fool does think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.”

“We are all fools in love,” Papa had said and with a sad smile removed himself to his study, leaving her to Mrs. Bennet’s outraged cries over the behavior of her least favorite stepdaughter.

Mr. Darcy’s next question brought her thoughts back to him and their dance.

“Mrs. Bennet, she is from Meryton as well?”

“Yes, her father was an attorney. Her sister’s husband took over his practice when her father passed.”

“So, your mother’s family is not gentry.”

A stitch of unease threaded itself down her spine. The questions sounded random, yet she felt deep within there was a purpose to his queries. It seemed her horse had run the gamut and now wanted to return to the barn and a good feeding of hay. He wouldn’t be the first possible suitor to back off and find excuses to retreat to the other side of the room, and then from there, out of her life.

“Mrs. Bennet’s family are all in trade, Mr. Darcy. Her brother has his own warehouse in London near Cheapside. Her sister is married to an attorney and they reside here, in Meryton.”

“It must be pleasant to have family so near at hand.”

She answered with a polite murmur which did not affirm or deny his musings. At least he had not left her standing in the middle of the dance floor. A point in favor of Mr. Darcy.

There were times she wished to be more open, but Papa was hesitant for strangers to know about her birth mother’s family. He had a valid and healthy fear of her and Jane being compromised and did not want them to suffer the same fate as him. A convenient tear in the bodice of the previous widow Moore’s dress after he had brushed by her while attending a dinner at Lucas Lodge had sealed his fate. Therefore, she and Jane did not correct the erroneous view strangers had of their family.

As the evening went on, Elizabeth’s level of anxiety decreased, though she caught the hint of a sneer on his handsome mien whilst looking at her stepmother and stepsisters. Yet, he gave every appearance of enjoying her company, although not as much as his friend did with Jane. Mr. Bingley’s attraction to her beautiful sister was undeniable. On the carriage ride home, Mrs. Bennet could not contain her effusions.

“I can scarce believe our good luck. Both men have taken with you girls. I shall go distracted. Oh my! Ten and five thousand pounds a year. The carriages! The jewels! The pin money! I need my salts. Oh! I cannot wait to tell your father. Two daughters, married!”

“We only met them tonight!” Elizabeth cried out. “Do not call the banns until we know them further. They may turn out to be rakes of the first order.”

She sincerely hoped they weren’t, but it all seemed too good to be true.

“Oh, you! They could not have stated their attentions any clearer than if you were mares in heat, and they the stallions sniffing about your skirts. They will be here before the week is out, hat in hand, to ask for your company. You mark my words.”

“That is extremely crude, even for you, Mrs. Bennet.”

“Crude but true, Lizzy. I know when a man wants a woman and will do anything to achieve his goal, and for now, Mr. Darcy seems to want you.”

***

The carriage ride back to Bingley’s leased estate was mostly silent, broken every now and again with Bingley saying how he had never met with pleasanter people or prettier girls.

“They were all so kind and attentive. I was amazed at how they accepted us with no formality or stiffness of manner. I feel as though I can become great friends with all those I met. And, Miss Bennet…. Oh! I cannot conceive an angel more beautiful.”

If Darcy banged his head on the side of the carriage, would Bingley notice past all the heart shaped stars dancing before his eyes? His friend might not, but his sister, most assuredly, would and immediately set out to comfort him in his distress. He suppressed a shudder and managed to reply with steady calm.

“On the contrary, Bingley. All I saw was a collection of people in whom there was little beauty and no fashion.”

“And yet you danced with Miss Elizabeth twice,” his friend parried back.

“She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to make me lose my head.”

“It is good you kept your wits about you, Mr. Darcy, for any man who attaches his carriage to their family also has to contend with the mother and those two flighty bits of fluff she calls daughters,” Miss Bingley said, making no attempt to hide her displeasure. “And, that is not all. I was told the Bennet estate is entailed away. Upon the father’s death, everything goes to some distant cousin, and they will be tossed into the hedgerows.”

Darcy ruminated on the tidbit of information. It seemed some of the citizens of Meryton wanted to muddy the waters with regard to suitable suitors for the Misses Bennet. Why else would they tell complete strangers – wealthy ones at that – of the low social value the daughters had upon the death of their father. His chances of success with Miss Elizabeth had exponentially increased. The parents would be anxious to have their daughters married and with such low connections, their pool of eligible suitors had narrowed from slim to almost none. He may not have to waste too much time courting the chit.

“Jane Bennet is a dear, sweet girl,” Mrs. Hurst offered into the darkness of the carriage.

“She smiles too much,” Darcy murmured.

“Maybe so, but I think that is what I like best about her,” Bingley said, ending the conversation by turning his attention to look out the window.

Daydreaming of the fair Miss Bennet, no doubt, Darcy thought. He himself turned his thoughts inward and focused on his current affaire de Coeur.  He had first caught sight of Daphne performing in a tawdry little opera he’d attended with Wickham, his father’s godson and Darcy’s childhood friend. At the time, they were still somewhat congenial with each another as Wickham had not yet blown through the money he’d inherited after Darcy’s honorable father had died, nor utterly betrayed his trust.

Daphne’s talent as a singer did not impress Darcy so much as the daring costume she had worn on stage. He swore the bodice of the dress was two sizes too small and her bosoms practically spilled out of the top. From his premiere box, he was able to gaze down and appreciate the dusky aureoles of her nipples peeking out whenever she faced his side of the stage, which she did with breathtaking frequency.

Wickham offered to take Darcy’s card to her between acts and introductions were made the same evening. Within weeks Darcy had her set up in a little house and since then, spent every available night where he did not have prior commitments, in her bed. If Georgiana had not been so young, he might have dared bring Daphne to his townhouse. As it was, having his mistress in her own separate establishment meant they could be as audacious as they wished and his burgeoning sexual repertoire grew apace with hers. She proved to be a fearsome lover. A temptress not afraid to show how much she adored him.

There were times he felt bad for having taken her maidenhead outside the bonds of marriage, but she repeatedly assured him she held no regrets. For her loyalty, he rewarded her with a substantial allowance, jewelry, clothing, and her own carriage with matching greys. In essentials, she was Mrs. Darcy in everything except by name.

This past summer, after a near catastrophe with his sister and Wickham at Ramsgate, he was forced to decamp at his country estate in Derbyshire. Unwilling to forgo his lover’s companionship, he had Daphne follow in a separate carriage and settled her in a small cottage near the edge of his property. At first, she had pouted for being removed from London, but when he begged forgiveness and presented her with a ruby and diamond necklace, she apologized for her temper, saying she resented having to share him with anyone, even if it was his sister.

To placate her, he proceeded to take care of his estate business from her cottage. If his steward and valet were disgusted by his behavior, he cared not. The only person he kept from his mistress was Georgiana. She was far too young to understand his need for this woman so far below their notice, who loved him unconditionally.

What would Daphne think of Miss Elizabeth? He had not informed his mistress of his plan to marry, even though she knew he had to at some time in his life. There was no getting around the fact he required an heir. With luck, the future Mrs. Darcy would take with child immediately. At least with her, he need not worry where his seed spilled. He hated using French letters or having to withdraw when everything in him demanded he thrust deep and release.

He wished Daphne were here with him right now. He shook his head at his own folly, glad the carriage was dark enough the Bingley family could not witness his self-castigation. He’d been apart from Daphne for not even one full day and already he ached. Later that night, as he took himself in hand, he wondered if she missed him as much as he missed her. If he hadn’t promised Bingley to show him the finer points of estate management, he’d be in her bed, exploring the delights which were uniquely hers. He most definitely would not be contemplating how to court a vulgar chit from the wilds of Hertfordshire.