Fifty Shades of Mr Darcy: A Parody (24 page)

One morning, about a week after Mr Darcy’s departure, as Elizabeth and the other females of the family were sitting together in the dining room, their attention was
suddenly drawn to the window by the sound of a carriage, and they perceived a chaise and four driving up the lawn.

The coat of arms – a pair of naked buttocks surrounded by vicious-looking spikes – was unfamiliar, and they could not guess who their visitor might be. Although when Elizabeth noted
that the footmen accompanying the carriage were wearing leather thongs and biker boots, she guessed at once.

‘I believe Lady Catherine de Burgh is honouring us with a visit,’ she said coolly.

Indeed, a few moments later, Lady Catherine herself swept into the parlour, flanked by four flunkies flagellating each other with floggers.

Mrs Bennet, Kitty and Mary curtseyed low, clearly awed by such alliteration. Elizabeth merely tilted her chin in acknowledgement. But Lady Catherine disdained their welcome. Without saying a
word, she made for a chair and attempted to sit down, her leather catsuit creaking. It was only on her third attempt that she finally succeeded.

‘You do us great honour with a visit, m’lady,’ Mrs Bennet trilled, obviously thrilled to have so high-born a guest sitting in her humble parlour.

‘That lady, I suppose, is your mother?’ Lady Catherine addressed the question to Elizabeth.

‘Yes, Madam, she is,’ Elizabeth replied coldly.

‘Then pray have her fetch me some talcum powder,’ Lady Catherine commanded. ‘The journey from Rosings was most uncomfortable and I am chafed all over by this new outfit. The
leather has not been broken in yet.’

Mrs Bennet hastened out of the room, calling Kitty and Mary to help her, and Elizabeth and Lady Catherine were left quite alone.

Lady Catherine surveyed the room disdainfully. ‘You have a very small house, Miss Bennet,’ she remarked. ‘Not much room to swing a cat o’ nine tails.’

Elizabeth smiled. ‘I have no interest in swinging, Madam. I spend most of my time engaged in less perverted pursuits, such as gardening and walking.’

Her visitor gave a sneer. ‘Gardening and walking? How ever do you hope to ensnare Mr Darcy with interests such as those?’

‘I assure you, I have no interest in ensnaring Mr Darcy,’ Elizabeth replied. ‘He and I are very different characters, and unsuited to be in each other’s
company.’

Lady Catherine seemed to relax. ‘That is so,’ she commented. ‘He has a dark, kinky heart, and only someone who shares his predilections can ever truly understand
him.’

‘It is a great shame that he
is
so kinky,’ said Elizabeth, standing up. ‘He has been ruined, in my opinion, and will never know how to truly please a woman.’

Lady Catherine attempted to stand. She creaked audibly.

‘Help me up, girl!’ she snapped. Elizabeth stretched out a reluctant hand, and Lady Catherine, seizing it, hauled herself upright. ‘Let us take a walk in your garden,’
she suggested.

‘In those heels?’ Elizabeth said incredulously. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Don’t argue with me, Miss Bennet. I wish to see your box. I have heard that it is most impressive.’

Together they proceeded through the French windows and out onto the gravel path leading to the formal garden. Lady Catherine tottered dangerously on her spike stilettos, and clasped
Elizabeth’s arm for support.

‘You must have guessed, I suppose, why I came here,’ she remarked.

‘I confess, I cannot imagine why you graced us with your presence,’ Elizabeth replied, ‘unless you have brought news from Hunsford, of Mr and Mrs Phil Collins.’

Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes. ‘Do not trifle with me, Miss Bennet. There is one reason and one only for my visit, and that is to command you to break off all contact with Mr
Darcy.’

‘And I have already informed you that my acquaintance with Mr Darcy, such as it was, has ceased.’

‘We both know that is not true,’ Lady Catherine said angrily. ‘Why, then, would he come to me at Rosings to tell me he does not wish to continue as my Submissive?’

Elizabeth started as if struck. Mr Darcy wished to hang up his leather hotpants? She could not imagine such a thing!

‘I believe that your arts and allurements may have temporarily made him forget what he owes to me, and to himself.’

‘My
arts
?’

‘Your talk of holding hands, of kissing, of tender touching …’ Lady Catherine’s face was screwed up with distaste. ‘Mr Darcy is mine,’ she continued.
‘My plaything, to do with as I please. It has always been so, and it always will be so.’

Elizabeth pictured Mr Darcy passing round the peanuts at Rosings, his eyes downcast, his demeanour humble, his hotpants riding up his well-formed buttocks ...

‘But if Mr Darcy does not wish to continue as your slave, does he have no choice in the matter?’

‘He does not know his own mind!’ exclaimed Lady Catherine. ‘You have quite turned his head, with your big, goofy eyes and your fresh, innocent loveliness. Under your influence,
he is even considering getting a puppy. The other day, he suggested that instead of anal probing, we might enjoy a jigsaw together.’ Lady Catherine gave Elizabeth a withering look. ‘No,
I will brook no argument.
You
must be the one to command him to return to me.’

Something stirred in Elizabeth. ‘Why, Madam, should I do any such thing?’ she asked. ‘I see no reason why I should help you in your kinky fuckery. Pray, give me a good reason
why I should aid you?’

‘Because I say so! And I am a dominatrix! Everyone does what I say!’

‘Then you are mistaken, Madam,’ she said coldly, raising her chin and pulling her shoulders back. ‘
I
do not do what you say.
I
am Elizabeth Bennet. I am a heroine
to generations of young women, who admire me for my wit, my bravery and my indefatigable spirit. It takes more than a dried-up, domineering old bitch who wears way too much make-up to intimidate
me
.’

Lady Catherine’s eyes widened in shock. ‘You dare to defy me?’ she asked, her voice quavering in anger. ‘And by the way, I
don’t
wear too much make-up. I
only have on a bit of mascara and a touch of nude lipgloss.’

‘Oh yeah?’ cried Elizabeth. ‘Well, I’ve got something else for your face right here!’ And drawing back her hand she gave Lady Catherine an almighty slap; the older
woman tottered on her spike stilettos for a moment, her arms windmilling wildly, then fell backwards into a gorse bush. Elizabeth surveyed her coldly; Lady Catherine’s blonde hair extensions
had snagged on the thorns, and her chicken fillets had slipped down to her navel.

‘Now then,’ Elizabeth mused, bending down to pick up a solid-looking birch branch that lay on the lawn at her feet, ‘get onto all fours, you old hag, while I give you a taste
of your own medicine!’

The surprise of the rest of the Bennet family at Lady Catherine’s visit was nothing to their shock at seeing her hobble back to her carriage, bent double with a birch twig
poking out of an unmentionable part of her anatomy. Elizabeth explained, however, that Lady Catherine had slipped on some damp leaves in the orchard and fallen into a pile of sharp branches, with
unfortunate results. Thankfully, no more questions were asked, and Elizabeth was convinced that was the end of the matter. She could not believe that Lady Catherine’s influence over Mr Darcy
had declined so much that he would seek to renew his acquaintance with the Bennet family after such an insult to his godmother, let alone cast off the trappings of his S&M lifestyle.

Yet the very next morning, Mr Bennet called her into his study.

‘Lizzy, I have had a letter that has surprised me greatly,’ be began. ‘I had no idea, none at all, that I had
two
daughters on the verge of matrimony.’

‘Whackem and Lydia are to marry after all?’ Elizabeth asked in a shocked voice.

‘No, my dear, the letter regards you, and our mutual friend Mr Darcy.’ Mr Bennet waved the letter in front of her. ‘In this very missive, he has asked me for your hand in
marriage.’

Elizabeth blanched. She put her hand out to the bookcase to steady herself.

‘Are you feeling faint, Lizzy?’ her stepfather asked in a concerned voice.

‘It is simply that I am shocked,’ she replied. ‘I am not sure I want to marry Mr Darcy. My experiences so far …’

Mr Bennet’s brow furrowed. ‘He has not treated you kindly?’

‘He has, in many regards, used me very ill.’

‘Has he ever hit you, child?’

Elizabeth nodded. ‘He has.’

‘And abused you in other ways?’

‘Yes, in countless, filthy ways you cannot even begin to imagine.’

‘And is he still as arrogant and proud as he was upon your first meeting?’

‘Nothing has changed in that regard.’

‘Then of course you must not marry him!’ Mr Bennet cried. ‘I will not have my favourite stepdaughter shackled to such a beast. Oh, wait a minute …’ He glanced down
at the letter. ‘I forgot, there was a PS somewhere. Let’s see … Oh, yes, that’s it. He says he really, really likes fishing.’

‘And?’ Elizabeth asked, nonplussed.

‘I really like fishing, too!’ exclaimed her stepfather. ‘The matter is settled then. I shall write at once, giving my permission for Mr Darcy to come to Longbourn and claim you
as his bride. Run along now and fetch me a cold beer, there’s a good girl.’

Thus it was that Mr Darcy arrived at Longbourn some three days later, accompanied by Mr Bingley. Bingley, who wanted to be alone with Jane, proposed a walk about the grounds, a
plan that Mr Darcy happily agreed to, and Elizabeth less happily so. Mr Darcy, she fancied, seemed a little more humble than usual. His arrogant swagger was still in evidence, and his permanent
smirk, but his eyes betrayed some inner anxiety. As soon as he was able, he led Elizabeth down a different route from that taken by the newly engaged couple, and together they walked arm in arm
through the shrubbery.

‘My dear Miss Bennet,’ Mr Darcy began, with a formality to which she was unaccustomed. ‘I understand you lately received a visit from Lady Catherine de Burgh.’

Elizabeth’s countenance betrayed nothing. ‘That is correct, Mr Darcy,’ she replied, with equal politeness. ‘She did us the honour of calling upon us.’

‘And I understand that you thrashed her black and blue.’

‘I did, Mr Darcy.’

They walked on together for a few moments in companionable silence.

‘Am I to understand from this,’ Mr Darcy asked in a low voice, ‘that I might have cause to hope?’

‘To hope for what?’ Elizabeth asked, her blue eyes widening in surprise. ‘That I will resubmit to your will, and become your sex slave once again? That I will agree to live an
orgasm-free existence at Pemberley?’

Mr Darcy stepped back as if stung. ‘You have never climaxed during our encounters?’

Elizabeth flushed, despite herself. ‘I do not wish to wound your pride, Mr Darcy, but no, never.’

‘How can that be so?’ Mr Darcy asked, incredulously. ‘Lady Catherine taught me everything there is to know.’

‘Then I believe she taught you very ill.’

Mr Darcy’s eyes flashed in anger. ‘Lady Catherine is well versed in the ways of the flesh!’ he exclaimed. ‘She was an excellent tutor.’

‘She may know about flesh,’ cried Elizabeth passionately, ‘but she knows little of love, of eroticism, of intimacy. Of truly pleasing a woman!’

Mr Darcy, clearly shocked, quickened his pace. His face was dark, glowering. ‘You do not like my Broom Cupboard?’ he asked. ‘I had thought you were enticed by my dangerous,
dark desires.’

Elizabeth shrugged. ‘Not really. I mean, yes, it’s something a bit different and all that, but have you never thought to leave aside your floggers and your nipple clamps, and just
have normal sex once in a while?’

By now Elizabeth was blushing furiously, both from embarrassment and passion, but she was determined to confront Mr Darcy with the truth.

‘No, I never have. That’s not what I’m about.’ Mr Darcy smiled ruefully. ‘I’ve told you, vanilla is not my flavour, Elizabeth.’

Elizabeth gazed into his fathomless grey eyes. What was going on in there? He was so complex, so deep. ‘What
is
your flavour, Mr Darcy?’