Page 12 of Desired By Mr Darcy
Fitzwilliam made a vulgar gesture at his waist, implying an expanding belly. Darcy stiffened at the implication that he would
“No! No, of course not!”
“Alright, alright! No need to get defensive. You wouldn’t be the first man to anticipate his vows.”
“I have done no such thing.”
Bingley nodded, patting him on the shoulder.
“We respect our brides far too much to do anything like that.”
“There is nothing disrespectful about desiring your bride, you old sticks in the mud,” Fitzwilliam laughed. “I wish only that I could find such a match. You do know how it’s done, don’t you?”
“Must we be so vulgar?” Darcy asked. “Really, cousin, it does not become you.”
“Oh, it is just us men! Perhaps the army has removed all of my modesty, for I have heard terrible things that would turn both of your cheeks pink.”
“And we do not wish to hear them,” Darcy said firmly. “You seem little better than an alley cat.”
Bingley looked a little disappointed, but Fitzwilliam merely laughed heartily.
“Oh, it is all bravado, I promise! I am far too often lonely, and I fear my experience with women comes more from gossip than with the actual fairer sex. We shall stick to the basics. We must make sure there are lots of little Bingleys and Darcys running around before long, mustn’t we? Besides, the women will be looking to you for guidance. If you cannot even discuss the matter amongst friends, how the hell do you expect to do so before your wives?”
Darcy did not answer, and so it was left to Bingley to break the awkward silence that settled between them all.
“I suppose,” Bingley said softly, “if we are to be frank, I am a little nervous.”
Fitzwilliam raised an eyebrow, taking a drink as he tried not to laugh. Darcy rolled his eyes; why had Bingley even indulged his cousin’s poor behaviour? The man was far too deep in his cups to be a decent conversationalist, but Bingley’s response served only to add fuel to the whole sordid fire.
“Oh? Don’t tell me you were never given the proper education upon your eighteenth birthday?” Fitzwilliam asked. “And here I thought you a gentleman!”
Bingley’s blush deepened.
“Yes, yes, but one night is hardly enough to be an authority on the matter. I have not frequented such places since. Besides, Jane, Miss Bennet…she is no Covent Garden ladybird. What good is whatever I learned there to a marriage?”
“What did she teach you?” Fitzwilliam asked, draining his brandy. “Do share with the class. It seems some of us are in desperate need of enlightenment.”
“Oh, I…” Bingley began, but his voice trailed away.
“Really, this blushing handwringing business is quite boring. Out with it!”
“How to…how to touch a woman. And how to…enter one.”
“Well, you know the mechanics of it at least. But that is not all there is to it, of course!”
“May we discuss something else?” Darcy asked. “I am sure we are sufficiently able to consummate our marriages without your…expert advice.”
“Sufficiently consummate, how romantic!” Fitzwilliam chuckled, “I do not claim to be an expert in the practical sense, but I have heard enough and seen enough to impart some advice at least. A woman does not want asufficienthusband. Indeed, a woman such as Miss Elizabeth brims with unbridled passion. You shall need to be far more than sufficient to satisfy her.”
“And what do you know of her passion?” Darcy spat back, “I would thank you to keep such slights to yourself.”
“Slight? It is no slight. It is a compliment of the highest order. What I would give for a wife such as her! There is nothing shameful about a wife who has desires that equal her husband’s – or exceeds them, as the case may be.”
“What do you mean?” Bingley asked.
“Why, my dear cousin refused to partake in the education the rest of us received,” Fitzwilliam chuckled. “There were no Covent Garden pleasure houses for our dear Darcy, no, no. Well, it was not for want of trying, but he-”
“You are drunk,” Darcy snapped, “and entirely inappropriate. That was years ago.”
