Oh Mr. Darcy!

As she ascended the staircase to her bedchamber Miss Elizabeth Bennet thought that her happiness was complete. She was to marry Mr. Darcy! Her father, dear Mr. Bennet (she had never discovered his first name) had at last given his consent. The wedding would take place next spring. Bearing a candle before her, she entered her bedroom. To her surprise lighted candles already bedecked the room. And there – oh la! There before her stood Mr Darcy, his dark face heavy with passion and his eyes burning.

Elizabeth stopped short. Her heart beat an excited tattoo against her stays. Mr Darcy here, in her chamber, defying all conventions and propriety: she knew that she should leave her room immediately – fly from her love’s impetuous desires. But she also knew that she could not leave him now.

‘Mr Darcy’ she breathed, moving close to him, ‘remove my dress.’

In an instant his strong hands moved confidently to the fastenings. Her dress slid to the floor with a silken sigh.

Elizabeth tried her best to keep from her voice the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. ‘Mr. Darcy’ she breathed, more heavily now, ‘remove my underslip’. Mr Darcy, also breathing heavily, hastened to comply with her wish.

‘Mr Darcy, remove my corset.’ His hands moved, more hesitantly, to the laces.

The corset lay on the floor at their feet.

Elizabeth mastered her feelings with a shuddering sigh. ‘Mr Darcy, remove my knickers.’ In a moment the last of her garments had been divested.

Elizabeth stood tall and proud before her love.

‘Mr Darcy’ she said quietly in a tone, dear reader, that bore distinct traces of prejudice, ‘If I find you wearing my clothes again, I fear our relationship will be at an end.’