 Pride and Prejudice Of perhaps the most celebrated couple in English literature, little more need be said here; volumes have already been devoted to anatomizing Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy in all their intricate complexity and charm. The major issue to be addressed is a simple one. Can a graphic, explicit sex scene between them add anything at all to our understanding of their relationship? Will seeing them, as it were, in action, add to, or merely diminish, the already powerful erotic charge of the courtship so familiar to generations of readers? Austen apparently had her answer; her readers must make of the result what they will. The restored scene comes halfway through volume three, chapter two; after months of estrangement following Darcy's first, rejected proposal, he and Elizabeth have just had their unexpected meeting at Pemberley. He then asked her to walk into the house, but she declared herself not tired, and they stood upon the lawn. At such a time, much might have been said, and silence was very awkward. She wanted to talk, but there seemed an embargo on every subject.* She looked back, hoping that her Aunt and Uncle's arrival might deliver her; but they had paused a ways off to examine some specimen of flora or fauna, and had come no closer. Enough, enough of this silence, Elizabeth thought. She would speak. She must speak; and having determined to do it,  further resolved not to abandon the directness and candour which had characterized all their communications before now.
'Mr. Darcy,' she began. 'It appears we are not to acknowledge all that has passed between us, and are to mark this unexpected meeting only with commonplaces, or, failing that, long silences.' 'If it appears so, Miss Bennet, it is not from any calculation on my part.' 'Why then have our discussions touched only on fishing, my travels and the park?' 'These are, I think, reliable subjects, well-known for the unlikelihood of their giving offense,' Mr. Darcy replied. 'On meeting you I resolved to avoid that more troubling species of communication with which we have been acquainted together before.' 'So you are not entirely innocent of calculation,' Elizabeth observed. Mr. Darcy hesitated. 'I admit, I am not. Can you say you are?' 'Sir, I cannot,' she replied. They lapsed once more into silence. Elizabeth looked again for her Aunt and Uncle. They were no closer; indeed, had ventured to observe a sheep grazing in meadow some half-mile distant. Elizabeth and Darcy were now standing beneath a tree. Mr. Darcy's arm brushed up against Elizabeth's. It was another awkward moment; each stole a glance at the other and muttered apologies in unison as their faces reddened. Elizabeth felt a sudden sense of regret as she looked up to find Mr. Darcy's tender and striking visage, which gazed back upon her. To stem her anxiety, Elizabeth returned to the subject at hand. 'How sad that the intercourse of two such as we should be so dull, not by accident, but by design and calculation.' 'Perhaps not so sad, Miss Bennet,' Darcy said, continuing to look at her directly. 'We talk too much. We have exhausted ourselves with conversation. Our energies have been dissipated in excess verbosity, our sensibilities sullied by sparring. My own epistolary efforts have worn me out. I am tired, Miss Bennet, and have nothing more of myself to give to weary wit. May we not let our actions speak now?' Darcy raised his hand, meaning, she supposed, to lean against the tree trunk; but instead, to her great surprise, his fingertips moved to her face, where they grazed a tendril of her hair falling outside her cap. Elizabeth looked up to find again Darcy's steadfast gaze; his impenetrable gravity seemed all at once to transform from a natural defect to the most admirable of attributes, and this realization roused in her the spiritedness he had come to admire. 'So if I take your meaning, sir,' she ventured, 'you are saying, let us dare . . . to be dull?' He made no immediate answer, but outlined the edge of her muslin frock and slowly dipped his fingers beneath the fabric. Elizabeth did not move, but closed her eyes and felt the color again rise to her cheeks. Her face was deeply flushed, and when she opened her eyes, she saw that his was no less so. 'Let us talk, Miss Elizabeth Bennet,' he said, now pressing the length of his body full against hers, 'about the weather.' She gasped, and felt a thrill run through her. Elizabeth could hardly conceive that this was the man who only a short time ago seemed the person she most disliked of all her acquaintance! — a man who had ruined the hopes of her dear sister! — a man who had both swelled and diminished her pride in extremes. While her opinion of Mr. Darcy's character had most certainly altered since reading his letter, this was a Mr. Darcy she had never before witnessed; a man in some new and puzzling incarnation so changed, so full of what appeared to be heartfelt play that she scarcely knew how to respond. She stammered and was only able to repeat his words, 'Talk about the weather?' Mr. Darcy ran his hand down her cheek as he nodded an assent. Elizabeth was quick to recover herself and with her full self leaning into him, she returned, 'Very well, sir. How have you found the weather to be of late?' 'Very well, thank you.' Now he could barely speak the words. Both were in the throes of desire; and desire had outstripped sense. Elizabeth took advantage of their weakened state and pulled Mr. Darcy down to the ground. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that the Gardiners were deep in conversation with a cow at a least a mile off. She arranged him on the grass and with an unexpected gesture sat square on his middle with her muslin gathered round her knees. With leisurely determination she advanced her hands up his chest. She slowed and prolonged the anticipation of the first kiss to a near halt until at last her lips just brushed his. 'I hope the weather has not been too wet for you while at Rosings, Mr. Darcy?' The warm breath of each of Elizabeth's words was felt upon his lips. 'No, I am rather partial to all things wet, Miss Bennet. It makes going inside all the more pleasant.' Having lain down full-length beside him, Elizabeth soon found him astride her, and now, with his mouth pressed hard upon hers, and her lips parted, her tongue was responding to his with alacrity. When the kiss at last broke, their lips were swelled and turned to a deep shade of crimson; and it was she who whispered, 'Do you enjoy cards, Mr. Darcy?' It was the dullest thing she could think of. Both felt a shiver of excitement. 'I am an indifferent card player, Miss Bennet,' he answered, his lips at her neck. 'I value games mostly as an excuse to be near a warm fire.' 'Are you in the habit of running to wherever fire is to be had, sir? This sounds quite unlike the hard nature I have been so lucky to observe in you.' Mr. Darcy's hard nature was indeed making itself known most urgently against Elizabeth. 'You are just,' he said as he expertly unbuttoned her frock until her chemise was fully displayed. 'I am often loath to give myself pleasure, with cards or any other objects of amusement.' Mr. Darcy put his hands on Elizabeth's breasts and pushed up each soft globe so that both were near escaping the rim of her chemise. Darcy kissed first one, then the other as he reached beneath her undergarments and began to tenderly touch her most sensitive part. Presently it was her excitement that he felt beneath his fingertips. 'And you, Miss Bennet? Are you a game player?' he asked. 'A tolerable one, I suppose. But no more,' she replied in a rather lengthy sigh. She could not help but refer to Mr. Darcy's first impression of her, so many months ago. Darcy pulled away, abashed at the reminder of his previous behavior. Clearly her speech could not be trusted to remain unlively. Resolving that her mouth must be put to other uses, Elizabeth dipped her hand into Darcy's breeches and emerged with her prize. Mr. Darcy looked at her with a mix of confusion and gratification. Darcy closed his eyes as she continued to move her way down to the root of him, employing a natural ease that contradicted her innocence. Elizabeth was lively in her attentions. By instinct alone, she caressed and licked, bringing Mr. Darcy to the brink of the highest satisfaction. Soon Mr. Darcy was near to his spending and Elizabeth was determined to do what was natural; she sunk her hands between her legs where she remained as she continued to pleasure what appeared to be a thoroughly changed man. Anxious to observe her, Darcy leaned back to obtain full view of Elizabeth's activities. And so they continued, with several of the most seemingly tedious conversations covering such subjects as: the price of beeswax candles; preferred horse colours; the various textures of porridge. All the while, Mr. Darcy alternated between observing and kissing and sucking each bit of Elizabeth and Elizabeth kissing and sucking each bit of Mr. Darcy as she showed him the activities of her private bedroom, until they were each spent. Both were satisfied; and took further satisfaction in the knowledge that throughout, neither had ventured any remark that could be supposed clever by even the dullest listener. They did not speak for some time, and both luxuriated in the pleasant and, to them, unique sensation that nothing at all needed to be said; that the only necessity was to restore the appearance of their clothes, which had been so enthusiastically disturbed. Presently, though, the Gardiners were perceived in close approach. At last it became necessary to once again engage in the most superficial of exchanges. Elizabeth was the first to speak and recollected that she had been traveling, and they talked of Matlock and Dovedale with great perseverance. *Italicized text is found in the expurgated, published editions of Austen's novels. 
|