My Good Qualities Under Your Protection…
Illustratie: Yanagawa Shigenobu
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy’s wife of but one day, one evening and a very good part of one night, the former Miss Elizabeth Bennet, took a turn about the room, enjoying the quiet atmosphere surrounding her. There were no sounds to be heard but the gentle snoring of her husband and the rain softly tapping against the windowpane. The world seemed to be completely at peace, exuding a serenity that was most welcome to Elizabeth after the dream which tore her from the depth of her slumber in the middle of the night.
Elizabeth had dreamt a most peculiar dream in which a tall, handsome knight on a white horse had carried her off to a medieval castle; an impregnable, battlemented fortress really with thick walls, windows secured with iron bars and intimidating towers. The knight had carried her to his chamber and due to his ardent admiration and affection, subsequently locked her up in one of the towers…
When she snapped open her eyes, quite short of breath, and somewhat startled, she noticed that the knight on the horse appeared to be none other than her beloved Darcy who, his arm firmly draped over her body, his hand cupping her breast, held her tightly in his sleep so that she could not move. The fact that she was unable to move obviously had caused this highly romantic, though somewhat frightening dream. Elizabeth chuckled. No, she was not locked up in a tower, not in the very least! She found herself in the four-poster bed in the master’s bedchamber of Darcy’s London townhouse, where the master’s gentle snoring and warm breath tickled her ear. Cautiously, she removed Darcy’s arm and, without making a sound, slipped out of the bed.
Is not this amusing? She pondered whilst adjusting her eyes to the darkness and looking around by the light of the remnants of the last burning candle. So far I have spent hours and hours in this room, but apart from the bed, I did not really know where I was!
Indeed she did not, for the simple reason that her husband had carried her to his bed, quite in haste, where soon afterwards their mind and body had been exceedingly agreeably engaged in discovering the pleasures of the flesh. Thus, there had been no room for distractions such as taking a turn about the room. She blushed at the thought of the thorough exploration of one another’s body and all those new feelings varying from utter tenderness to extreme ecstasy, resulting from their actions. She could still taste his lips, feel his tongue in her mouth and all over her body, not to mention the salty flavour of his skin when she kissed his chest and umm… beyond. He had awakened desires in her she did not know existed. Her wantonness had shocked her, but not for long. Her love for this man and the feelings of lust he incited in her were so strong that she did not wish to dwell on the lack of ladylike behaviour her mother would most definitely accuse her of. It could not be helped: she was unable to deny her own desires, apart from her ardent wish to fulfill his, and Darcy did not give her the impression that he loathed her exhibiting precisely that. “Quite on the contrary, I dare say.” She whispered, looking at her sleeping husband with adoration.
She picked up her nightgown that lay in a heap on the floor, hesitated for a moment, but decided to not put it on and left it on the bed. Thus, naked as her creator had made her, she tiptoed towards the window, opened it and inhaled the fresh night air. Sticking her head a little out of the window she felt the raindrops on her face and smiling she licked the drops from her lips. She shivered when a sudden breeze touched her face. And after having closed the window, she walked towards the mantle piece with its large mirror that leaned a little over so that she could see herself from head to foot. By the faint golden glow of the candle, Elizabeth intently gazed at her image. So, this is I. This is my body. The body that Darcy observed so intently, admired so ardently, explored so meticulously and loved so passionately. She mused, remembering her fast pounding heart and how she had trembled when he disrobed her, his fervent gaze no longer able to disguise his mounting passion.
Deep in thought as she was, it entirely escaped her notice that Darcy had awakened also. Delighted, he observed her naked body, whilst she was slightly leaning out of the window to catch the raindrops. He was certain, absolutely certain that at that moment his view was far more tempting than hers. The sight of Elizabeth contemplating herself in front of the mirror became too much to bear and softly he said to himself: “In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed.” Thereupon he stepped out of the bed as well and without making a sound, walked in her direction. Just before the mirror betrayed his presence, he grabbed her from behind, pulled her towards him and cupped her breasts. His passionate kiss startled the cry that escaped from Elizabeth’s throat, after which he teasingly whispered in her ear:
“Were you contemplating your good qualities, my dearest, loveliest wife? Such as your beautiful hair, your eyes and lashes so remarkably fine, your tempting mouth, your light and pleasing figure, your soft skin, your breasts that would drive every man wild with desire, or the mysterious, dark, warm spot between your beautiful legs that I will never get enough of and would love to renew my acquaintance with right now? Umm… apart from the beauty and liveliness of your mind, naturally.” He added hastily, expressing himself as sensibly and warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do.
Turning towards him, and wrapping her arms about his waist, feeling the evidence of his desire against her belly, she replied smiling: “Aye, dearest husband, I was. And from this day forward my good qualities are under your protection. You are to exaggerate them as much as possible, at least once a day for the duration of our life.”
Renée O is vertaler, Linkse Kerkganger en mede-oprichter van Nogal Irritant. Bovenstaand verhaal is zogenaamde ‘fan-fiction’, geschreven in de geest van Jane Austens literaire klassieker Pride and Prejudice. Eerder hier gepubliceerd.
Ook meedingen naar een Frontaal Naakte goodie-bag? Met daarin onder andere exclusieve cosmetica van het stijlvolle Japanse merk Yojiya en een gesigneerd exemplaar van Hassnae Bouazza’s Arabieren Kijken. Doe dan mee aan de Zinderende Frontaal Naakte Zomerverhalenwedstrijd. Schrijf een erotisch verhaal en laat de zomerhitte broeien. Lees de spelregels hier.
op 26 08 2013 at 22:29 schreef Sasha Berkman:
Ik durf het niet te lezen. God wat ben ik geil :)
op 27 08 2013 at 09:50 schreef Thomas E:
How delicious. How delicate….
op 27 08 2013 at 13:09 schreef Renee O:
O jee, wordt het je te veel, @Sasha? ;-) Nou, dit verhaaltje is meer om een glimlach bij de lezer te bewerkstelligen dan wat anders, althans die bedoeling had ik.
Dank je, @Thomas :-)
op 29 08 2013 at 11:02 schreef vander F:
Het doet bij mij wel iets meer bewerkstelligen dan slechts een glimlach hoor.
De combinatie van het wat archaïsche taal gebruik en de bij mij opgeroepen sensuele beelden gives it indeed a delicate and more sophisticated nature.
Where the mentioned lack of ladylike behaviour finds itself softly wrapped in an ornate use of the english language almost forgotten, the faint echo of a more subtle and dignified era.
op 30 08 2013 at 11:21 schreef Renee O:
Thank you most sincerely, @vander F. :-)
I am impressed by your mastery of the English language. It makes the compliment even more valuable to me. :-)