Topic 173 of 194 [austen]: Fan fiction (was New P&P scenes) Response 144 of 154: Lola (breezin) * Tue, Feb 18, 1997 (19:39) * 9 lines For What It's Firth: A Moment's Acting The director shouted again, "Everyone to your places, please!" Colin gracefully deposited himself on the sofa at "Pemberley." Make-up staffers hovered several moments, rifling his hair and powdering his jaw with sensitive fingers; to both he gave a warm smile as they backed away, sighing. "Now Colin, what we want here is the look of love, if you know what I mean." Just to raise a little cain and ire in a semi-somnolent crew, Colin narrowed his eyes in mock ignorance and drawled, "I'm not sure what you mean. Aren't there as many looks of love as there are men and women on the planet?" Make-up staffers giggled but the director shot them an evil look. "Naturally, Colin, we haven't all day to discuss the permutations of very conceivable amorous gaze between a man and a woman. I referred to the look of a completely targetted-love object - in this case Elizabeth Bennet - that you love with every inch of your being and now heedlessly show at this piano scene. Do I make myself clear?!?" "Oh," drawled Colin, "You mean something like this..." And he lay back in pashah-like ease, crossed his legs, and languidly opened the windows to his inner soul's feelings, directing the melting tenderness right towards Miss Ehl. As she gripped the back of the piano to stop from swaying, she muttered "Not here, Colin!" as other females in the vicinity felt their collective temperatures rise and insides writhe. As unobtrusively as he'd begun, Colin shut down the warmth and returned to normal, smi ing modestly. "Would that be it?" The director, knowing when he was outmaneuvered, called a break and stomped off the set. Sue Birtwistle merely lit the tenth cigarette of the morning and dragged on it fiercely, attempting to focus on her script...

I just copied this from an old interview with CF. "I thought to myself: 'This is where he wants to go across the room and punch someone. This is where he wants to kiss her. This is where he wants sex with her right now.' I'd imagine a man doing it all, and then not doing any of it. That's all I did." Any ideas about which he wanted to do when?

There's a thread about this somewhere, Kate. I'll do a quick search for it.

Kate, I searched on the word "erection" in this conference and, after a slap on the hand from Surfwatch, was returned this list: Topic 15, Response 75: By Anne3 (Anne3) on Mon, Jan 27, 1997 (18:37) Line 7: suggested that Darcy probably had an erection. During another, when Topic 15, Response 76: By sharon (sld) on Mon, Jan 27, 1997 (18:58) Line 6: "Darcy probably had an erection.'......... Well, he was sitting with Topic 15, Response 77: By Inko (Inko) on Mon, Jan 27, 1997 (20:08) Line 3: this smell down there?" And the erection - I vote for the bathroom scene Topic 15, Response 79: By Margaret Howard (Meggin) on Mon, Jan 27, 1997 (22:58) Line 4: ]...has an erection... Topic 15, Response 82: By Cheryl Sneed (Cheryl) on Tue, Jan 28, 1997 (01:59) Line 9: Erection...so many options, so many...I'll go for when he is listening to Topic 15, Response 83: By Amy (Amy) on Tue, Jan 28, 1997 (06:34) Line 1: ] Erection...so many options, so many...I'll go for when he is listening Topic 15, Response 86: By Cheryl Sneed (Cheryl) on Tue, Jan 28, 1997 (16:03) Line 6: Well, ok...seems I need to find another erection scene...it is no hard You can do a text search of any conference by hitting the search button on the front page of each conference.

languidly opened the windows to his inner soul's feelings, directing the melting tenderness // and so on LOL, LOLA ;-))

Gosh, Amy, an "erection search"...brings all kinds of interpretations to mind...;-) LOL!

Well, the key to effective searches is coming up with the optimum keyword.

Holy f*****g cow. ARRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!

Yo, Aim?! Chat?

All of above re: searches -- ROTFLOL. Especially Kali's comment!!;-)

Some Smouldering and Clothing Advice A double-decker bus is parked in the parking lot of a rather dilapidated North London school yard. It's being used as the catering bus for the cast and crew of "Fever Pitch". 12:30 p.m. Lunch time. Colin Firth and Mark Strong enter the bus, collect their meals, and sit together at a small table for two. "I need your advice, Colin. I just heard that I've got the part of Knightley in the BBC's "Emma". Have you read the book? "Yes, after finishing P&P and after ploughing through Nostromo, I decided to read all of Austen's novels. I needed some light relief!" "Well, since you had such success with Darcy, how do you think I should play Knightley?" "Hmmm, it never hurts to have him smoulder." Colin gives an example for Mark's benefit, but the resulting smoulder is actually caught by the four women at the next table who, their mouths agape, completely ignore the food in front of them. "I'm not sure I can smoulder as well as that, but I'll practice it between now and June!" "Oh, and one other piece of advice. Have them cut your breeches a bit fuller than they did mine!" "Why - isn't a tight fit just right for the Regency period?" "Ummm, yes it is. But, believe me, have them a bit fuller unless you want to have a special thread on the Internet devoted to how you dress -- if you catch my meaning!" "Thanks for the advice, Colin!"

Cute, Inko. Not too far from the truth, probably. I must believe someone did direct him to act in a way that he would not have done if left to interpret it himself.

Amy, Amy thank you for those links. I was laughing so much I had tears running down my face. I think the best suggestion was when Mr Collins ran up saying "Hurry, he's hard upon my heels".

Oooooh, bad, kate, BAD!!!!

Inko: But, believe me, have them a bit fuller unless you want to have a special thread on the Internet devoted to how you dress -- if you catch my meaning!" Oh Inko! You're bad, bad, bad! I love it! ;-)

Anything at all connected to breeches, loose or tight, suits him and me fine! Thanks for chance to LOL ,Inko.

Lola - I just loved the thoughts of JE (no, not here) and SB (lighting her tenth cigarette). Inko - ROTFLOL! Between the puns and the other comments, I think I'm blushing (and this is quite a feat for me).

Guests "Livia, cara mia, leave the vacuuming for a minute and tell me what you think of this new script. My agent said it was sent from the States in batches to his private email address; probably some hacker female fan, but sounds interesting." Livia sighed, turned off both vacuums that she could easily steer with both hands at once (having been an excellent driver in Rome), and with a Gina Lollabrigida swing of her hips sauntered to his side. But seeing the title and the massive printout script, she retrieved some more coffee from their new espresso machine before settling down in his lap. Gently pushing to one side her hair whose waterfall obstructed his view (and tenderly nuzzling her nape in the process), God's-gift-to-women enjoyed briefly the sensation of her seating before focusing acutely on the stapled mass before them, titled THE LIFE AND LOVES OF GAUGUIN. "It's amateur stuff, but it's got the things I look for in a project: eccentric rogue male, art, temperamental type repressed until later in life, exotic location, male bonding, passionate women, and just enough intellectualism to please the critics and my parents. Besides, I've never been to Tahiti and the place is supposed to be fabulously relaxing. I think this flat has been too confining lately. Of course, you can come visit me during the shoot between your course terms, but the main thing is to g t another project going right away, don't you think?" Livia turned troubled eyes his way: "But caro, you would be so very far away, and your costar may be too attractive, I mean attracted to you. How can we solve that little worry of mine?" She kissed him lightly on the chin where his razor missed. Ever appreciative of these little attentions from her, he smiled into her eyes warmly. "I am sure no one will ever take your place in my affections, my dear. Doesn't the ring prove it?" Suddenly the doorbell rang. Irritated, he went to answer the door, sure it was the neighbor complaining again about the Verdi operas played at midnight in their flat to drown out more personal sounds going through the thin walls. To his surprise, several obviously American women stood before him, in varying degrees of smiles and smitten looks. One of the bolder ones stepped forward and said, "Excuse us, Mr. Firth, but we were just on our way to a conference this Spring when we thought we'd drop by and introduce ourselves. We're t e writers who co-authored a script sent you recently about Gauguin." "Yes!" piped up another, "all about his life and loves!" Agog at the audacity and numbers before him, but mindful of his actual liking of the script, the actor opened the door wider and invited them in, to the horror of his fiancee... to be continued?

Oh, Wendy, please please please let it be an adaptation of the Moon and Sixpence.

Wendy: to be continued? Oh yes, Wendy, do continue...do we get to have our way with him? Huh? Huh?

Oh, Wendy, Wendy...what can I say? You have incorporated the vacuums into the story so well. Your artistry continues to amaze me!

Wendy, you are a wonder!This is the funniest yet!

This is my maiden effort at fan fiction, so please be gentle with me. Actually, my own personal fantasy would earn a rating close to the end of the alphabet -- I sincerely hope this one doesn't offend. It's especially for Cassandra and Kali: Emma, in pure contentment, rested her head against Mr. Knightley�s broad shoulder, their hands intertwined. The wedding was over � blissful event!! -- and they were on their way to Donwell. Emma had been reluctant to leave her father, even for one night, but John and Isabella were with him, and Mr. Knightley had insisted. This, of all nights, was theirs, he had said. Mrs. George Knightley � Emma Woodhouse Knightley. Emma�s head still swam with the deliciousness of her new name. She would never grow tired of hearing herself called such! "We are almost there, Mrs. Knightley," she heard her husband say, almost as if he was reading her thoughts. She was instantly reminded of his earlier comment to Mrs. Elton that only Mrs. Knightley would arrange things at Donwell. She was now that very person, she thought,joyfully, as she saw Donwell appear in front of their carriage. Once there, they spent many hours exploring the Abbey, as Knightley now had much more to share with her regarding its administration. They also found some secluded places where they could steal quick kisses and profess their deep devotion to each other. Emma could not believe it had taken her so long to see how very much she loved this man. Thus, the day passed quickly enough, and that night Emma sat brushing out her hair while Knightley, somewhat impatiently, waited for her. She had been pleasantly surprised by his room: it was so masculine, and his scent was everywhere. Yet there was suddenly a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach which made her very uncomfortable, and she wondered if she was quite well. "Come here, Emma," Knightley said softly from behind her. She paused momentarily, then put down her brush and went to her husband, but not without some trepidation. He could see this and, cupping her chin in his hand, he looked directly into her eyes. "Have I ever hurt you, Emma?" he asked seriously. "No, never," she answered with the same solemnity. "And I shall not now. Trust in me, Emma dearest." "I do, Mr. Knightley," she said. And she did� ________________________________________________________ Emma gradually became aware that the morning sun was streaming in upon her, and she stretched luxuriously, slowly realizing who and where she was. She had never before felt so perfectly satisfied. Soft kisses fell on her forehead, temple, and cheek, and she gently remonstrated, "George, it�s daylight!" "Shhhh," he murmured affectionately. "Be quiet, Emma. Sometimes you talk entirely too much." She obeyed, and soon was glad she had. ________________________________________________________ Later that morning, Emma again sat to arrange her hair and Mr. Knightley stood just behind her, watching her admiringly. "Today we return to Hartfield," he said. Emma�s eyes met his in the mirror. "Mr. Knightley," she began uncertainly, "I am sure that I shall never be able to � that is to say, I cannot � not in my father�s house!" she finished in a rush. He moved forward and rested his head on hers. "You can, Emma, and you shall, and your enjoyment will be the same," he said gently, but forcefully. "You are my own Emma now � my wife!" Emma scarcely registered the trip to Hartfield, so engrossed was she in her dilemma. She was unaware that Mr. Knightley occasionally looked over at her with a knowing smile. No matter how she considered their situation, she could envision no satisfactory resolution, and she was still uncertain when they arrived at Hartfield. Her father fussed over her as if she�d been gone for weeks, and for once, she let him. He insisted she come in quickly, sit in front of the fire, and wrap a blanket about her legs Soon, conversation with her family and the joy of being in her own dear home combined to give her some peace, and she momentarily forgot what had worried her so. However, as the day wore on, she became aware of an unnamed agitation which made her restless and almost irritable. Whenever she caught Mr. Knightley�s eye or knew that he was looking at her, she felt a sharp, delicious thrill, and when he touched her arm, the small of her back, or her hair, a ragged jolt coursed her entire frame. She had neve been affected by him in quite this way before, and she wasn�t sure she was entirely comfortable with it. The evening passed with dinner and conversation, and soon it was time to retire. Mr. Knightley stood and offered her his arm. "Come, Emma." She rose almost against her will, feeling unable to do anything else. She half expected her father, or John or Isabella, to object, but of course none of them did, and she and Mr. Knightley climbed the stairs to their chamber. Once behind closed doors, Mr. Knightley quickly turned and embraced her, and Emma, to her surprise, clasped him to her almost desperately. "What is this then, Emma?" he said, laughing. "What has caused this change in you?" "Do not tease me, Mr. Knightley," reproached she, "you know perfectly well that you are to blame." "If by that you mean that I have made you as violently in love with me as I am with you," he said, looking deep into her eyes, "then I take that blame most willingly. Indeed, I will take that and more!" With these words, Mr. Knightley thrust Emma slowly backward as he brought his lips down to hers. She clung tightly to her husband as she felt herself lowered in his arms, and she surrendered to him utterly at that moment. All contradictory thoughts were forced from her mind by the sheer depth of her desire. ________________________________________________________ What Emma had earlier thought an impossibility was now a need as strong as that for air; she could simply no longer bear any alternative. Mr. Knightley -- as usual � had been right.

Nicely done, Susan (and within our rating system, I think!) :-)

Oohh! Give us all some air!! Too good, Susan, but then this is the DROOL conference, isn't it?

Ahhh, Susan, so satisfying....I feel like a cat who's been in the cream.:-)

Oh, Susan! Thank you! You weren't kidding when you stated that Mr. Knightley made more appearances in your fantasy life than any other Austen male - this story is obviously the product of much thought! My favorite lines: "Come, Emma." (I know, my mind's in the gutter!) "...I will take that and more!" (Do it NOW!!!) He sure knows what he's doing...way to go! ;}

Oh, and Susan...if you ever commit the X-rated version to computer, will you e-mail it my way? ;)

Susan, I've never liked Knightley so much as in your version. (Have you done a P&P wedding night? I know all of us have in our minds!!!)

Oh, and can you put my name right after Kali's?

Thanks for all the approbation! I may do an Elizabeth and Darcy wedding night sometime, but as you can see, it's Mr. Knightley who's always done it for me, until CF lit up the screen as Darcy. I also like Mr. Rochester a great deal and can't wait to see CH's portrayal. That just may inspire a story...

] I also like Mr. Rochester a great deal and can't wait to see CH's portrayal. That just may inspire a story... __ I've a feeling that may inspire a great many things.

OOOOOOOOOOH SUSAN!!!!! WHAT A STORY!!! Keep indulging us! May I voice my admiration for "Be quiet, Emma-you talk too much" "COme Emma! and "YOu are NOw mine-My Wife" and especially "have I ever hurt you". OOH Baby!!! The hair brushing thing I also liked and the kiss, where he bends her backwards-very Rhett Butler. WONDERFUL!!!! I hope you won't hate me, But I thought OF Jeremy Knightley.

mmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmm :-)

mmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmm :-)

and mmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmm again! :-)

Alrighty then...! ;)

Lisa's done a bit of drooling about a Darcy/Lizzy wedding night at the Austen conference next door, if you want another such fiction to read.

And here it is. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Topic 173 of 199 [austen]: Fan fiction (was New P&P scenes) Response 199 of 202: Lisa (lisaC) * Sun, Feb 23, 1997 (14:45) * 22 lines "Elizabeth, is evrything all right?" "Yes. I'll be out shortly" she replied. Darcy was sitting on the edge of the bed and began removing his jacket, tie and unfastening the buttons of his shirt. He got up, walked towards the window and stared outside. His mind and body were all in a flutter. "Am I dreaming?" he wondered. "Did tonight actually happen?" He hadn't heard her approach and was startled by the touch of her hand on his shoulder. He reached out, placed his hand on hers and turned to face her. In all his dreams he never imagined her to look as beautiful as she did. Her eyes were sparkling and her dark brown curly hair was flowing down to her shoulders. He got up, took a few strands and began twirling it around his fingers. He loved its soft, souple feel. He stared longingly into her eyes. His body was hungry for hers. He placed his hand to the nape of her neck and brought her body closer to his. He could feel and hear her breathing increase. He then lowered his lips until they met hers, brushing small, little kisses, one after one, until each grew into longer, deeper, more passionate responses. Slowly their lips parted but he continued to explore her. Gently, he pushed her head back and traced up and down the outline of her neck with his fingers; his lips soon followed suit. He could feel the heat eminate from her body. Neither said a word. Both were totally consumed by their desire, their passion, their longing for each other. He caressed the roundness of her shoulders and tenderly eliminated the only obstacle standing in his way of pure ecstasy. Her gown fell to the floor. There she stood. The most beautiful, breathtaking vision he had ever seen. As his eyes looked up and down the splendours of her body she began, with her trembling, nervous hands to unfasten the buttons of his shirt. He couldn't wait any longer. With a force that startled and excited her, he ripped his shirt open, flung it off his body, and in as hurried a ma ner, removed the breeches from the lower half of his being. She reached out to touch his chest. She felt his muscles rippling when her fingers tenderly toyled with his small patch of hair. He then lifted her up in his arms and carried her over to the canopied-king-sized bed. Gently he layed her down. "I love you so much Elizabeth. I don't want to frighten or hurt you" he said lovingly. She looked directly into his eyes and answered:" I love you too Fitzwilliam, and I know that you would never do anything to intentionally harm me, but I can't stand it anymore. I want you so much. Make love to me now!" Mr. Darcy faithfully obeyed his wife's wishes. The pleasure that both felt from this wonderful, magical experience is too difficult to explain so I therefore will not attempt to try.

Lisa, Susan & Wendy, WOW, I'm quite at a loss for words. My mind must be somewhere else ;-) WELL DONE! & THANK YOU!

Susan, I have just finished reading your Emma/Knightly story. How wonderful! When will your first novel be published? You mentioned that you like Rochester. I do too I have wondered about Jane and Rochester's wedding night....what with his blindness and crippled hand. I am sure you could write a wonderful version. I always imagine Timothy Dalton as Rochester.

Thanks, Kim -- it was fun!! I am intrigued by Jane and Rochester; maybe one of these days I'll work on a story about them, perhaps after the new version comes out in September. I'm not sure Rochester really needed his sight, if you know what I mean. I liked the playful banter Charlotte Bronte let them have at the end of the book, and they sounded to me like they were off to a great start.

The post-fire Rochester was certainly less grating to me...and I'm sure his sappiness wore off as soon as his sight was recovered (too many "oh Janet!"'s in that novel for my taste)...give us more, Susan! My personal preference is Knightley/Emma, but Jane and Rochester would make a charming piece of pornography in its own right...;)

Erotica is a more charmingly refined term, I think, for love stories read or penned by "ladies of refinement" (as even a regency rake like Wickham would I hope still call us)... And since regency smouldering under tousled locks and sweltering attire in P&P2 is what brought most of us together in the first place, at the Drool and Austen conferences, here's another shot of the Darcy couple: http://www.grin.net/~meluchie/firthlist/nz_pp.htm

EMMA: DEJA-VU Part 3 Emma could not remember a time when she had slept so little and yet so well. How perfectly satisfied and content she felt this morning, compared to the previous day's anxiety! Her head resting against Mr Knightley's pillow-like chest, she smiled at his peaceful, eloquent slumber. "How handsome he looks," she sighed. "almost like a little boy-so young as he looked." Turning on her side, Emma playfully brushed a stray piece of grass from Mr Knightely's dark, lustrous hair; indeed, this was the only visible eminder of their night of passion. Instantly, Emma replayed over and over in her mind every treasured word and look, the tantalizing feel of his skin against her's. Smiling, she traced an intricate design a long his face, finally bestowing a tender kiss on his lips. To her great amusement and surprise, Mr Knightley opened his eyes. "Good morning," she said sweetly. "I think it would be safer to say good afternoon," he replied huskily. "And never have I been awakened in such a delightful way, or by such a charming lady." Emma blushed deeply at his words. Ever so gently, Mr Knightley grasped her face between his hands. His eyes burned her forehead. Brushing Emma's hair from her face, his mouth insistently found her own. Emma clung to him breathlessly, as much out of necessity for never had she felt so dizzy by his embrace. "My Dearest, beloved Emma. Are you hungry?" Knightley muttered passionately against her ear. Momentarily confused by his words, Emma finally answered: "No-not particularly. Have our clothes dried yet?" "I don't think so. It will probably take another hour or two at the most." Meeting her gaze, Mr Knightley smirked bewitchingly. "Really-a whole hour. What can we possibly do here for a whole hour?" The brilliancy of her countenance and her hazel eyes was such that Mr Knightley could no longer prolong the suspense. Slowly running his hand along her cheek, he clasped Emma to him. ************************************************************************** Three hours later, Mr KNightey sat before his former dressing table, buttoning his white shirt. Emma was not helping matters much. For every button he succeeded in fastening, she undid two. "My Darling! I wish I could stay with you all day, but Mrs Jennings must be wondering where we are. And it doesn't help that you must look so fetching in my clothes. You should always wear my clothes." "Mr KNightley-how I wish we could always stay at Donwell. I've never seen such a perfectly, delightful place." "Emma dearest-do you mean that? You know what that would entail-leaving your father." "I know-but perhaps Father could be persuaded. Besides, I think there might be an even more important reason for our removal to Donwell..." Her eyes shining brightly, Emma met Mr Knightley's anxious gaze. "Emma-my dearest, beloved Emma! You don't mean...My Darling! You shouldn't be on your feet." Effortlessly, Mr Knightley swept Emma up into his arms, protectively shouldering her head against his chest. Carrying her once again to the bed, he covered her face and hands with kisses. "My Dearest, sweetest Emma. Why didn't you tell me? Are you quite certain you are alright?" "I wanted to be completely certain," she replied calmly. And, I am more than well. I don't think I have ever been more content and happy." The perfect happiness of the moment was too swiftly interrupted by an insistent knock at the door. Hesitantly, Mrs Jennings entered. "Sir. Ma'am. I do not wish to disturb you, but Mrs Martin is desperate to see you-Mr Knightley. Her husband has taken a turn for the worse and is in need of Mr Perry."

Oh, Cassandra, what a way to start the morning. I love it!

that IS nice

For every button he succeeded in fastening, she undid two. You are wicked, Cassandra, and we love you the more for it! GREAT story!

Cassandra, have I missed parts I and II?

Wonderful!Wonderful!

I hope to have this performance often repeated, Cassandra....

Cindy: Cassandra, have I missed parts I and II? You can find them at the Derbyshire Writer's Guild, linked on the front page at Austen...

Thanks Guys! I must admit that EMMA-Deja-vu is my personal favorite and the easiest one to write!

Ah, that was delightful, Cassandra is more to come?...You are determined to do it I hope ;-)

OK, I found Deja Vu. I believe I might be revisiting that one (or maybe it'll just seem like it?)

Ann2: I certainly intend to finish the story. More twists and turns, among other things, to come. This is so much fun compared the usual dreary, dry papers I have to write. One question: I wasn't sure whether I should re-post it over at Topic 201, or not. Any thoughts?

Cass, we're just feeling our way around this issue, but I think put it over there if it's not R rated and if it does not involve actor fantasies.

The following story is R rated near the end (and it is not really about Mr. & Mrs. G, just keep reading)) Thanks to Myretta, Rebecca, Caroline and Cheryl for early reviewing. Picture comes from the Regency fashion page: http://locutus.ucr.edu/~cathy/reg3.html Mrs. Gardiner's Gift Part 1. February 1814--Morning Mrs. Gardiner contemplated the gown in La Belle Assemblie. It was similar to what she had in mind. With a little imagination, more buttons, less trim, and removal of the collar, it should work just fine. At the dressmakers, she showed the picture to the seamstress and explained the changes that she wanted. "But, madam, this is a dinner dress," the seamstress was confused by Mrs. Gardiner's instructions. "It is intended for a very private dinner," she replied. Her fifteenth wedding anniversary was soon, and she had planned a very special evening--the children were to spend the night with her parents, the perfect dinner was in the works, and all that was needed was the "proper" attire for the evening. She found some ice blue silk that would be just the thing for herself. Her eyes also caught site of a ruby red silk that she thought Lizzie might like. "Do you have Mrs. Darcy's measurements?" she asked the seamstress, who had helped provide her nieces trousseau and was now regularly patronized by Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bingley. "Yes, ma'am." "Then make a second gown for my niece," Mrs. Gardiner placed her order. A week later the gowns were ready. Mrs. Gardiner stood in front of a full length mirror. She had removed the gown from the box and was holding it front of her as she looked in the mirror. Yes, she thought, the gown would do very well, very well indeed. She sent the second gown to Pemberley, with a short note thanking her for the delightful visit the Gardiner's had enjoyed last Christmas.

Part 2. Mrs. Gardiner stood before the mirror. She actually felt herself blushing at the image before. She felt quite giddy with anticipation--almost as if were her wedding night all over again. "Stop that" she told her image, "You are married woman of six and thirty, a mother of four children, not some blushing bride." She wanted tonight to be special. Her dear Edward had been so occupied with business matters since returning from Christmas at Pemberley that they barely saw one another. Hopefully, tonight would change all that. Cook had prepared a dinner which included such delicacies as oysters, asparagus, peaches and champagne. A table for two had been set up in her dressing room. She heard a door open and close. Edward was in the sitting room. She took one last glance in mirror. She removed the cap from her head and let her fall down. She took a deep breath and headed toward the door. She went into the sitting room with high hopes. It had quite a while since she had the pleasure of seducing her husband. Mr. Gardiner watched as his wife came into the room. He was stunned, he was thrilled. "Emily, you look beautiful, more beautiful than the day we met," he told her. He pulled out the chair for her to be seated. Thus was the beginning to an evening was very memorable to both participants.

Part 3. At Pemberley, a week later. Darcy entered Elizabeth's bedroom through the connecting door. All he was wearing was his red and gold robe. He spied her sitting at the vanity brushing her hair. When she saw his reflection in the mirror, she rose and went to greet him in the usual manner. Darcy felt his mouth go dry as he got a good look at Elizabeth's new night shift. It was of ruby red silk, with a high neck and long sleeves. It should have been one of the discreet night shifts he had seen but it was not. There something decidedly provocative about the gown. True, the silk did cling to her body in a most becoming manner. But his rational mind thought it over, and decided it must be the buttons. For the gown was buttoned from the feet up to the throat and the sleeves had buttons from wrist to elbow. It was a night shift that issued a challenge and he was just the man to accept it. It looked to be a very interesting evening. "Is that a new gown, my dear?" he asked, knowing is was, but really thinking if he should start at the neck and work his way down. "Yes, do you like it?" Or maybe he should start at the bottom and work his way up. He grinned at that possibility. "I like it very much, indeed, but where did it come from?" Or maybe he should open a few at the top, a few at the bottom, and a few in-between. "My aunt sent if from London." The sleeves first, yes, he would start with sleeves. "Now I know why your uncle is such a happy man." Had Darcy but known it, Mr. Gardiner had spent the last week with a spring in his step. He was often heard humming and one clerk related that he even heard Mr. Gardiner whistling--whistling in the workplace!

Part 3. At Pemberley, a week later. Darcy entered Elizabeth's bedroom through the connecting door. All he was wearing was his red and gold robe. He spied her sitting at the vanity brushing her hair. When she saw his reflection in the mirror, she rose and went to greet him in the usual manner. Darcy felt his mouth go dry as he got a good look at Elizabeth's new night shift. It was of ruby red silk, with a high neck and long sleeves. It should have been one of the discreet night shifts he had seen but it was not. There something decidedly provocative about the gown. True, the silk did cling to her body in a most becoming manner. But his rational mind thought it over, and decided it must be the buttons. For the gown was buttoned from the feet up to the throat and the sleeves had buttons from wrist to elbow. It was a night shift that issued a challenge and he was just the man to accept it. It looked to be a very interesting evening. "Is that a new gown, my dear?" he asked, knowing is was, but really thinking if he should start at the neck and work his way down. "Yes, do you like it?" Or maybe he should start at the bottom and work his way up. He grinned at that possibility. "I like it very much, indeed, but where did it come from?" Or maybe he should open a few at the top, a few at the bottom, and a few in-between. "My aunt sent if from London." The sleeves first, yes, he would start with sleeves. "Now I know why your uncle is such a happy man." Had Darcy but known it, Mr. Gardiner had spent the last week with a spring in his step. He was often heard humming and one clerk related that he even heard Mr. Gardiner whistling--whistling in the workplace!

(Sorry about the double post) Part 4. Darcy brought Elizabeth's left hand up to his mouth and kissed the palm. He opened the first button at the wrist and kissed the wrist, then the next button was opened and followed by a kiss, and so on until he reached the final button. Every once in while his tongue would dart and touch her flesh--but in a random fashion, so Elizabeth waited with much anticipation for it to come again. "So you think my uncle is happy because my sends me a new nightdress?" Elizabeth asked as Darcy began to repeat the process with the right sleeve. "Well, this kind of night dress shows she has imagination," the wrist button was opened, "passion," the second button was opened. "Any man lucky enough to find a woman with both these qualities (as I have) is bound to be happy." "Do you think my aunt and uncle did what we are doing now?" Elizabeth asked, getting a somewhat confusing image in her head. "Well, I have always found your uncle to be an intelligent man," he had about three quarters of the buttons undone. "It is hard to imagine..." she broke off her thoughts as Darcy opened the final button at the elbow. "Elizabeth, they have four children--who did not spring up from a cabbage patch," he kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, her lips (long and slow), the pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat...... "I know, it is just that...are you going open all the buttons in this fashion?" she asked as Darcy repeated the method that work so well on the sleeves on the top button of the gown. "Perhaps," he smiled, his dimple appearing (Elizabeth began to think rational thought was beyond her), "or perhaps not. There are other ways," he said, running his thumb down the unopened buttons, only stopping when he could reach no further. Elizabeth gave a small breathless gasp. "Other ways?" she inquired hopefully.

Part 5. Darcy picked Elizabeth up in his arms and carried her over to the bed. After carefully settling her upon it he removed his robe. Elizabeth stared with delight at the sight before. He never failed to invigorate her senses. Elizabeth began to feel acutely overdressed. She would have removed the gown then and there, but his hand stilled her. "My dear, we have all night, " as he lay down beside her. "Now as to other ways...we could try it this way," his fingers run up and down the buttons, stopping randomly to open one here and then there, hi near the neck, low near the thighs. "William, this is most enjoyable, but could you not go a little faster, please." "Faster would not nearly so enjoyable," Darcy said as he released another button and bent to kiss the skin exposed. "If you do not hurry, I shall have to take matters into my own hands." "Will you, madam?" he asked some more buttons came open "and what matters would you like to take into your hands?" Elizabeth felt herself blushing, but decided to see if she could rise to the challenge. She slowly ran her silk encased leg over his. Catching him off guard, she pressed her advantage and rolled on top of him. He watched as she opened the remaining buttons and shrugged off the night dress. "Now I believe we are evenly matched--at least in regards to dress." "Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, I have long thought we were well matched." He kissed her deeply. Passionately. ********************************************************************* "Remind me to send your Aunt my thanks in the morning," Darcy mumbled before drifting off to sleep.

Very good Carolyn, and LOL - especially the very last line!! Always knew Mrs. G. had good taste, and Lizzie and Darcy were well matched to make the most of it!;-)

*sigh*

It was a night shift that issued a challenge and he was just the man to accept it Is it getting hot in here or is it just me? (Sorry about the double post) I'm not---I was going to read it twice anyway! Now, where can I get some ruby red silk and lots and lots and lots of buttons!

whew! you can tell that spring is just around the corner...

and what matters would you like to take into your hands?" OHHH, DARCY!! Thanks, Carolyn, for a very enjoyable read!

I think each installment could have been double-posted. (kind of like all those buttons!) yeah, that's nice

Oh my Carolyn.....

This is certainly fiction, though not my own from Madame Bovary (yes, I was inspired to read it because of Flo Bear of Sesame Street fame) watching the opera in Rouen "...His love, she thought, must be inexhaustible, since he could pour it out in such great quantities on the crowd. Her resolution not to be taken in by the display of false sentiment was swept away by the impact of the singer's eloquence; the fiction that he was embodying drew her to his real life, and she tried to imagine what it was like--that glamorous, fabulous, marvelous life that she, too, might have lived had chance so willed it. They might have met! They might have loved! ...A mad idea seized her: he was gazing at her now! She was sure of it! She longed to rush into his arms..." I think it goes to show that we'd have another member here at drool, if

Mistakes mistakes mistakes, Ughhhhhh! Part 1: She sent the second gown to Pemberley, with a short note thanking her niece for the delightful visit the Gardiner's had enjoyed last Christmas. Part 2: She removed the cap from her head and let her hair fall down. Part 4: "So you think my uncle is happy because my aunt sends me a new nightdress?" Elizabeth asked as Darcy began to repeat the process with the right sleeve.

Never noticed the mistakes, Carolyn!Just the buttons!

WONDERFUL, Carolyn!!!! Keep indulging us!

...Her resolution not to be taken in by the display of false sentiment was swept away by the impact of the singer's eloquence; the fiction that he was embodying drew her to his real life, and she tried to imagine what it was like--that glamorous, fabulous, marvelous life that she, too, might have lived had chance so willed it. They might have met! They might have loved! ...A mad idea seized her: he was gazing at her now! She was sure of it! She longed to rush into his arms..." Can't help to think of our most fervent droolers sisters on the Firth and Northam topic

all in good humour,

"by the impact of the singer's eloquence; the fiction that he was embodying drew her to his real life, ...A mad idea seized her: he was gazing at her now! She was sure of it!..." A marvelous passage to be reading just as I am listening to Roberta Flack sing "Killing Me Softly With His Song." Ahhh.

Let me see, Carolyn, did he start to unbutton left or right sleeve first? I am excessively attentive to those matters of dressing and undressing. What droolery you offer. Why can't I see your pic re:75 Johanne? I would so wish to...

Ann, so now we're paying attention to the direction of his undressing as well?

]Let me see, Carolyn, did he start to unbutton left or right sleeve first? I am excessively attentive to those matters of dressing and undressing? Ann2:Darcy brought Elizabeth's left hand up to his mouth and kissed the palm. He opened the first button at the wrist and kissed the wrist, then the next button was opened and followed by a kiss, and so on until he reached the final button. Left sleeve first, then right, then to the rest ;-) ]so now we're paying attention to the direction of his undressing as well? This is not necessary, since all he is wearing is his robe, and once that comes off it is the direction of your thoughts that you need to pay attention to. ;-)

(shocked) Carolyn! ;-p

I should think we pay attention to absolutely everything about him, what he does and how he dresses, the way he moves, upstairs in particular...,the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice and a certain something... And appart from that the improvement of his mind by extensive reading...(such books as Men are from Mars women are from Venus) and by being properly humbled by dearest Lizzy. And I was trying a pun Carolyn..maybe not so good...and a daggy hint as well.

Ann, you did great! as always!And you have just given me a great idea for a story- thanks!

]And I was trying a pun Carolyn..maybe not so good...and a daggy hint as well. Ann2, it probably was a good pun, but I was reading at 7 am and still half asleep so I might have taken your comments too literally. ]!And you have just given me a great idea for a story- thanks! Caroline, I can hardly wait.

EMMA: DEJA-VU PART 4 Under the most unusual and stressful circumstances, Emma found herself for the very first time in the Martin farmhouse. Mr KNightley had insisted that she return to Hartfield, deeply concerned for her safety and especially the welfare of their unborn child. However, in this case, Emma persisted and won, declaring that she wished to be of service to the Martins and Harriet. As mistress of Donwell, it was her duty and obligation. Faced with such a sweet and ardent appeal, Mr Knightley relented. Indeed, thes days he found that he could not deny her anything. It was not sheer benevolence alone which drew Emma to the Martin farmhouse, this very evening. She had long wondered how much of Mr Knightley's praise and enthusiasm for Robert and Harriet Martin's home was just hyperbole, a testament to his kind and generous disposition. Once again, however, Emma had to admit that his judgment was sound. Although the farmhouse could never be called fashionable or elegant, it had a warmth and palatable dignity, negating the cracked floors and smokey chimney. As Emma sat at the kitchen table, little Johnny's brown moppet head resting on her shoulder, she could not help delighting in the delicious aromas emanating from the wood-stove. Harriet Smith Martin's touches were everywhere, from the delicate, lace curtains hanging above the window to the brightley coloured wildflowers, set so betwichingly in the centre of the table. Furthermore, old Mrs Martin and Elizabeth could not have been more attentive or kind to Mrs Knightley. As deeply distressed as they all wer over Robert Martin's fever, the two women still found time to inquire after Mr Woodhouse's health, profusely thanking her for her service. Emma herself noted that their manners were as fine, if not superior, to the grandest of ladies. Sensing Mr Knightley's eyes on her, Emma looked up and met his gaze. Instantly, she knew that he was reading her thoughts and a blush of pleasure went to her cheeks. "How much I love and need him," she thought. "Poor Harriet-What she must be suffering! I could not live if anything happened to Mr Knightley." Around the same time, Mr Perry came out, along with a weary Harriet Martin. Mr Knightley was the first to speak. "Well Perry, I am certain the ladies have suffered enough. How is he?" "Ladies-I am happy to report that he will be fine. He is a very lucky man. I have seen lesser men succumb under such a fever. This is the sickly season and all. Still, he is a strong man and his fever finally broke, thanks in no large part to Mrs Martin and her continuous application of cold compresses. She is quite the nurse." "Thank-you Mr Perry. Thank-you for everything. Mrs Goddard always said that cold compresses were the best remedy. We are indeed indebted to you. And Mr and Mr Knightley too. We are most grateful for all of your service and kindness." Silently, Harriet gently kissed Emma's hands. For once, Emma was rendered speechless. ***************************************************************************** Moments later, Emma found herself safely ensconced in Mr Knightely's carriage, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Gently, he stroked her hair. Exhausted, Emma soon found herself falling asleep against her husband's shoulder, lulled by the motion of the carriage. Within an hour, they arrived at Hartfield. Silently, Mr Knightley lifted Emma out of the carriage and carried her upstairs, placing his wife before the fire. "My Darling-are you cold?" he asked, lifting Emma's hand to his lips. "A little," she replied softly. Immediately, he took off his coat and wrapped it about Emma's shoulders. Tenderly, he cradled her against his chest, placing his head against her own. "Dearest Emma-do you know how very proud of you I am. You could not have been more compassionate to the Martins." After a while, he added: "Emma, were you in earnest, earlier? Do you still wish to remove to Donwell? As you know, it is immaterial to me where we live. You made me the happiest of men, consenting to be my wife." "Indeed, I was Mr Knightley," she replied strongly. "As much as I hate the thought of giving Father pain, I believe it is time that we had our own house, our own privacy." "Well, as you are determined, we will both speak to him when I return from London." "London? Oh yes. You have some business to discuss with John. I completely forgot," she replied, lowering her face. Lifting Emma's chin to meet his face, Mr Knightley answered: Dearest, I wish I could take you with me, but it will only be of a few days' duration. I promise. Smirking bewitchingly, he further stated: "There is one obvious benefit of a separation of which I can think: the pleasure to be derived by all when I return." Kitty's thick, irish accent broke the delicious silence of the room. "Mrs Knightley-will you be needing any help undressing?" Commanding Emma to her feet by the ardent look in his eyes, Mr Knightley pressed her against him and lifted her to the awaiting bed. Possessing a keen perception way beyond her years, Kitty wisely and instinctively decided not to pursue the matter.

Thanks Cassandra for the nice story this morning.

OK something for the weekend. Below is the how I originally wanted Summer Picnic to end. See http://www.spring.com/~anneh/derby/carolyn5.html if you haven't already read the story. I was unhappy with ending, which is very contrived, because I was really trying for PG 13, honest I was. Hope you like the this version! Since it is R-rated I could take things a little further. Darcy set Elizabeth down. Both were dripping water all over the floor. The damp fabric of of their clothes clung to their bodies. The footman, bringing up the restorative brandy, and the maid carrying the towels caught site of their Master and Mistress. Both were quite shocked with what they saw. The footman dropped his tray. The clang of metal, the shattering of fine crystal, and the smell of alcohol invaded the entry, startling everyone. Mrs. Reynolds, hurrying from below stairs ran smack into the maid, who had come to a standstill, gaping in a most unseemly fashion at Mr. Darcy. Mrs. Reynolds snapped "Whatever are you doing", she grabbed the towels, "get below stairs, and tell Jessup to send someone up to clean this mess, now" she added with an emphasis that finally broke through the girl's stupor. The maid turned and ran. Darcy accepted the towel Mrs. Reynolds gave him, and gently placed it around Elizabeth's shoulders, before accepting a second towel for himself. He glared at the footman, who was looking rather like a landed carp,staring wide-eyed and his jaw opening and closing but with no sound coming out. Darcy was not amused. "Jakes, you will the remains from our picnic by the old oak tree, not far from the pond. Retreive it." "Now, sir?" Darcy's command had finally penetrated into the footman's brain. "Can you think of a better time?" Darcy replied. "Master Fitzwilliam, whatever are you thinking? It is not fit for man or beast out there!" Mrs. Reynolds protested. "The rain will do him more good than harm". A large clap of thunder seemed to shake the room. "Oh very well, he can go as soon as the weather has cleared." As soon as the glass was cleared away Mrs. Reynolds shooed Darcy & Elizabeth upstairs, "I had them lay a nice fire in your rooms, you need to get out of those wet clothes, before you catch cold." "I think that is highly unlikely" Darcy mumbled. Darcy followed Elizabeth up the stairs, wondering why he thought the rain would have any effect on the footman, when obviously it had no effect on him. Instead of going to his room, he followed Elizabeth into hers. He sat down before the fireplace and began to remove his boots. "These are utterly ruined," he sighed, when he noticed Elizabeth staring at him. "What is it, my dear?" he asked. "I was just thinking that is a great pity you cannot always go about attired in such fashion," she stated, removing her own wet kid slippers. "May I return the compliment, madam." Darcy grinned at her, removing his wet shirt, "However, I fear there will too much broken crockery about the place." "Whatever do you mean, sir?" Lizzy asked, her mouth going dry at the sight before her. "Take a look in the mirror," he suggested as he removed his socks. Elizabeth followed his advice, "Oh, my" she blushed, for what had been a perfectly respectable dress this morning, now revealed....everything. The thin cotton of her gown and petticoat had been no match for the pouring rain and were now transparent. Darcy came up behind her, and began to undo the buttons on the back of gown, "Do you see the impracticality of this attire?" he asked as he pushed the gown off her shoulders. Lizzy turned into his embrace, "I see now that it would be impossible for either of us to go about in this rainment. What with footman dropping trays at the sight of me and maids coming to a standstill at the sight of you, the house would be a complete mess inside of a week." Her gown fell to the floor, though with a little help from Darcy. "It is a pity, though, for you look quite like a statue of goddess come to life" Darcy complimented her as he began to undo the buttons on her chemise. "Really, which one?" Elizabeth asked as she put arms around his neck to pull him close. Darcy kissed her forhead, murmering "Artemis....no", he kisssed the tip of her nose "Aphrodite...maybe", he pulled one of her curls, which now tumbled in wild disarray down her back, "Oh, yes....Medusa" he said softly as his lips found hers. Her chemise fell open. Elizabeth, when she recovered her wits, pushed herself away from Darcy. "Medusa, sir, be careful that I do not you turn you to stone, then," Darcy, who had taken advantage of the distance between them to see that the chemise joined the sodden gown on the floor, replied "But, my dear, you already have," as he pulled her tightly against him. His hands roamed her backside, and soon the petticoat was on the floor, also. Elizabeth slowly let her fingers descend from his shoulders, down his chest (where she paused for a moment, when her ring got snagged in the hair on his chest) past his stomach, and she began to undo the top buttons on his breeches. "Elizabeth" he muttered, his breathing ragged. "I just want to know if you really been turned to stone" her fingers went lower. "Oh, yes, I see that you have." Darcy could take it no longer, he led her over to the bed. When Elizabeth was upon the bed he notice that she was still wearing her wet stockings. "my dear, let me remove these before you catch cold." Elizabeth thought there was little chance of that as his fingers traced up the outside of her leg, came the top of the stocking crossed over and began to remove the stocking from the inside. He then repeated the exercise for the other leg. "William" "Yes, my dear?" "Hurry." "Your wish is my command," he said as his breeches hit the floor. Elizabeth's last coherent thought was "Talk about statues, give the man a discus." ************************************************************************* In the hallway Darcy's valet and Elizabeth's lady maid stood outside the door. The sounds eminating from the room informed them that their services would not be required at this time.

EMMA: DEJA-VU PART 5 Three days later, Emma went to Randalls for her weekly tea with Mrs Weston. Emma loved nothing more than to visit her former governess. Next to Mr Knightley and her father, Mrs Weston was the dearest person in the world to her. This very afternoon, however, an unwelcome intrusion in the usual familiarity and intimacy of these occasions was one Mrs Elton. As Emma sat opposite her, calmly sipping her tea, she could not help recollecting with some degree of pleasure that this was the first time she had seen rs Elton socially in many months. Mr and Mrs Elton were hardly frequent callers at Hartfield or even Donwell. In fact, Mrs Elton had just returned from another extended trip to Bath, visiting her "very particular" friend, Mrs Partridge. In between ravenous bites of her sandwich, the lady was endeavouring to relate, to Emma and Mrs Weston, the intimate details of her latest excursion. "Why Mrs Knightley-you look so pale! Doesn't she look pale, Mrs Weston? You really should consider going to Bath. The waters and air would do wonders for you. You should see Mr E-quite the changed man. His few grey hairs have simply gone away!" "Mrs Elton, I have no inclination to visit Bath," Emma quitely protested. "There is no place in the world more conducive to my health and spirits than Highbury." "The collosal nerve of that woman! Emma silently remarked. "Grey hairs indeed. I am in no doubt as to how he got them." "You'll never guess whom we saw in Bath," Mrs Elton continued, interrupting Emma's reverie. Before any of the ladies could reply, she smugly uttered: "Mr and Mrs Frank Churchill! Dear Jane was always a favorite of mine, so sweet and charming. And such lady-like manners. That's such a rare quality these days," she added, gazing intently at Emma. They say he simply adores and spoils her. And her jewels...." "Yes, we had a letter from Frank just the other day, concerning their trip to Bath and London," Mrs Weston interjected uncomfortably. "Mr Weston and I both hope that they will be able to visit Randalls soon." "Yes-that would be lovely. Oh Mrs Knightley," she continued with greater enthusiasm, "you do not know what a shock I had on my last evening in Bath.." "I am sure I can't imagine," Emma replied sharply. Still Mrs Elton persisted. "Mrs Partridge, the lady whom I always reside with on my trips to Bath, introduced me to the most charming creature-a Lady Hollingsworth. Apparently, she spent her girlhood in Highbury. Mrs Partridge and I simply raved about her. And such beauty-flawless, ivory skin and the true crystal-blue eyes. Now that I think about it-she ressembled your little friend. What was her name? Oh yes-Miss Smith! Anyways, she expressed a great interest in you. "I am confidant I have never met the woman. You must be mistaken, Mrs Elton." "Now, that I think about it-you would have been too young. From what I understand, she was quite a favorite with Knightley's at one time. She entreated me to convey her sincere good wishes for your marriage" A red-faced Mrs Weston immediately sprung to her feet. "Oh my-look at the time. And Mr Weston shall be home soon." "Indeed. And I was never one to wear out my welcome. As my friends always say, I am the soul of tact. It would not do for Mr E to come home and find me elsewhere. For he is simply lost without me! Please excuse me ladies and give my best wishes to Mr Weston. Good evening Mrs Weston...Mrs Knightley" Moments after Mrs Elton departed, Emma remained blankly staring at her empty tea cup, her head spinning. "Vulgar, insufferable woman! What did she mean? This is all so strange." Lifting her head, Emma's anxiety increased as Mrs Weston busied herself with the china, deliberately avoiding her gaze. "Tell me! Emma cried, her voice filled with terror. Tell me the truth! About what was Mrs Elton speaking? Who is this woman?" "Emma dear-I am as mystified as you.." "I charge you to tell me at this moment. I cannot bear this silence a moment longer." "Emma dear-if I had known what Mrs Elton planned to say, I would never have permitted her to remain in this house!" To be utterly honest, Emma had never seen Mrs Weston so enraged. After a few uncomfortable minutes, Mrs Weston gently sat down beside Emma. Warming Emma's trembling hands, she finally decided to speak again: "When I first came to Highbury, I do recall that Mr Knightley was engaged to a local girl, a very pretty and high-spirited young lady named Annabel Edwards. Her father was the curate here. I was not privy to the entire story, but I do know that the engagement was broken off almost as soon as it was made. The young lady left for London to reside with her aunt. I be ieve there were many objections to the match as Miss Edwards possessed neither fortune or connection. A mutual aquaintance informed me, a long time later, that she had managed to marry a member of the House of Lords. Although I never met the lady, I often heard her beauty and poise praised." "And, he was in love with her," Emma managed to utter in the thinest of voices. "Emma-you cannot doubt Mr Knightley's affection for you! I have never seen a man more in love with his wife. Whatever he may have felt for this woman is in the past. I beg you to put it out of your mind this instant. He loves you, only you. Of that-I am certain." "Then-why has he never spoken of this to me?" Receiving no audible answer, Emma stood up and flung her cloak about her shoulders. Mrs Elton had aimed to wound her and had admirably succeeded. This only served to heighten Emma's intense pain and dread. "But-Emma dearest. Will you not let me send for the carriage to take you home? "No thank-you Mrs Weston. I would rather walk. Do not be concerned." Turning sharply, she closed the door.

Carolyn---love this! We need an R-rated Derbyshire Writers' Guild! Darcy came up behind her, and began to undo the buttons on the back of gown Oh, goody! More buttons!;-) I just want to know if you really been turned to stone Oh me, oh my! Cassandra, really enjoy the plot and you have nailed that nasty Mrs. E! I hope you plan for something terrible to happen to her---like getting bit by a 'puppy' and dying from rabies (although noone will notice that she's foaming at the mouth!) Gosh---I'm in a mean mood!;-)

I typed out a huge response here, then lost it because I didn't have one of my closing symbols. ARRGGHHH! In short, Cass, this thread didn't come up as new on my computer, so I'm glad you mentioned it in chat -- I was really missing out! Carolyn, you have captured Lizzy's and Darcy's easy bantering very well. Great story and innuendo! Cass, *SIGH* for Mr. Knightley. Your Mrs. Elton is spot on. Love Emma's comment about how he got his grey hair! I also really like this Knightley-with- a-past angle, but don't keep us waiting too long for the sequel! Meggin, I definitely agree we need a drool Writer's Guild. Powers that be, can we do this?

Are you sure you ladies don't read Romance, too? ;-) I'd classify just about everything here as well within the genre. The range is broad, from "sweet" (hardly a hand touching or chaste kiss) to "sensual" (including it all, sweethearts). The writing here is Capital, Capital!!!

]Are you sure you ladies don't read Romance, too? ;-) Valen, I have been reading romances since 9th grade. I guess it shows.

Only Nora Roberts, Valen -- she's the best I've run across.

Ooh, Susan, ditto; love Nora Roberts!

ELIZABETH AND DARCY(The reunion scene uncensored and uncut) This is especially dedicated to Cheryl. Mr Darcy carried Elizabeth into the bedroom and gently laid her against the pillows. Lizzy's body quivered with breathless anticipation for never had she wanted him more. With tantalizing slowness, Darcy loosened the curls at the back of her neck, setting them tumbling down in incandescent waves about her shoulders. "Beautiful," he murmured passionately, lifting a dark, silken curl to his lips. Mr Darcy next turned his attention to her fine eyes, tracing an intricate pattern with his lips, from her eyelashes to the tip of her nose and the hollow of her cheekbones. In particular, Darcy lingered at the base of her neck. Playfully blowing against her shoulders, he insistently tugged at her nightgown. "Sir, may I in turn be of assistance to you," Lizzy archly said. Ripping open his white shirt, Lizzy's fingernails played across the tangled web of his chest. Suddenly, her expression grew alarmed as she eyed a disturbing discolouration at the tip of Mr Darcy's right shoulder blade. "Fitzwilliam darling-what happened?" "Dearest, pray do not be alarmed. I fell from my horse on the way to Lambton the other day. The roads were unusually slippery. The town doctor assured me that it is nothing. A sight scratch is all." Refusing to be quieted by his protests, Lizzy jumped to her feet and grabbed the water basin and a cloth. With painstaking care, she let the water flow and ripple down his chest, gently pressing the cloth against his wound. "I am certain the Doctor had much steadier hands than mine." "I don't know. I have never found anything to complain about!" Feigning shock, Lizzy tumbled the remaining contents of the water basin over Mr Darcy's head. As she turned, Darcy retaliated by catching the strap securing her nightgown. With a playful tug, he dramatically let the robe fall to the floor. "Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. You take my breath away," he murmured, hungrily eyeing the silken curves of her body. Grasping Lizzy to him, Mr Darcy brushed his lips against her own, gradually becoming more insistent and ardent. Elizabeth arched her back, rolling her hips to meet his. "Don't stop. Don't ever stop," she breathlessly uttered. Pressing Lizzy even more firmly against his body, Mr Darcy decidedly lowered her to the bed.

Cheryl, looks like someone beat me to the sponge bath scene.;-) Cassandra, that was lovely. Simply lovely. Susan: I have read everything NR has written.

Oh my, oh my! I find myself suddenly flush! Perhaps I need a basin of water.... Thank you dearest girl! ;-)

Is it hot in here? or is it just me!

Practice Session Darcy was just outside the doorway of the drawing room, spying on his wife through the partially open doorway. He leaned against the door, his arms folded and listened to Elizabeth play the piano. A dreamy smile seem to light his face. If Elizabeth had seen it she would have been unable to play, but since he was hidden from her view she continued to play. The music seem to be flowing well, when suddenly a discordant note was heard. The music stopped. "Oh, the devil," Elizabeth spoke to herself, "why will you not play the right notes?" she asked her fingers rhetorically. She started to play again. The music seem to flow out of the instrument--Darcy thought it sounded wonderful. "Oh, bother," Elizabeth let out an exasperated sigh. She had hit the wrong notes again. She heard a soft laugh from the doorway. "Who is there?" she called. Darcy entered the room, "You know I cannot resist hearing you play." "Believe me, my playing is very resistible today." "True, the music is not as melodious as it could be," Elizabeth frowned at Darcy, "You, however, are always irresistible." He sat down beside her on the piano bench, pick up her hand and brought it to his lips. "Always irresistible," he murmured as he turned over hand to kiss the inner wrist, the palm, and each finger, one at time, slowly, lingering at each site. Elizabeth found it hard to breathe steadily. "Sir, how am I ever to practice with only one hand?" she asked. Darcy looked into her eyes, "By no means should either hand go unemployed". He reached for other hand--then he gave it a quick tug and she was in his arms, her fingers running up and down his back--just the way he liked. "Elizabeth, you know that you will never play really well unless you practice," he smiled at her, his dimple peaking out. "Well, as my sister Mary was always wont to tell us.....Practice makes perfect," she replied, quite happy to abandon the piano for other pleasures. Their embrace grew more enthusiastic, so much so that they crashed into the piano keyboard. Sheet music went flying. The jarring sounds emitting from the piano brought them out of their revelry. Darcy lost his balance and fell off the piano bench. Elizabeth tried to hold back her laughter but could not. "You have no sympathy for your poor husband should he fall and break his head." "But, sir, it is not your head that suffered the injury," she reminded him. "Perhaps since you already in the vicinity you would not mind retrieving the music, please." "I take it that you like having me at your feet," Darcy said as gathered the sheet music. "I like it very much, indeed." Darcy handed Elizabeth the music sheets. After placing it on the stand, she reached down and offered her hand to her husband. Darcy was for a moment tempted to pull her off the bench (and into his arms) but he resisted the temptation. He accepted her offered hand (not that he really needed it) and gingerly resumed his seat beside Elizabeth on the piano bench. She could feel warmth of Darcy's body next to hers. Elizabeth arranged the music sheets in proper order, then she resumed her interrupted practice. She found herself playing the piece with no difficulty--every finger that seemed to go wrong before now found the right note. Elizabeth looked at Darcy and smiled, "You appear to have brought me good luck. I shall quit now while a successful rendition of this piece rings in my ears." She paused a moment. "I believe that there was another instrument that you thought I needed to practice and since it is an instrument on which I should truly like to become proficient, perhaps I should begin practice immediately." Her hand brushed his thigh as she leaned closer to him. Darcy caught her in his arms. "Elizabeth, not here. If events transpire as they previously did, this instrument shall be damaged beyond repair." "That would be a great pity," Elizabeth said as Darcy rose from the piano bench and offered his hand in assistance. Darcy did not release her hand but instead placed it on his arm and escorted her from the room. They left the room at a sedate pace, which quickly picked up speed, until there was a final headlong rush for their bedroom. Soon the practice session had begun and never had Elizabeth practiced so diligently.