Chapter Fourteen – Mrs. Darcy Is Receiving
Lady Catherine gets a letter from Darcy.
That is quite literally everything that happens in this chapter.
Lady Catherine, after she reads the letter, suddenly thinks up a plan. 95% of the rest of the chapter is relating information that we already know. I’m not sure why Berdoll thinks the reader isn’t aware that Lady Catherine is annoyed that Darcy married Elizabeth Bennet. But she spends the rest of the chapter discussing this at great length, and at the end of the chapter Lady Catherine decides that she’s not going to stand for this.
Wow. Is that the barest glimmer of a plot I see? And we’re only seventy-two pages in!
Darcy forgives Fitzwilliam for impregnating his sister out of wedlock. Hooray, that plot point was resolved easily!
Also, Elizabeth starts planning Georgiana’s wedding.
I have the distinct feeling that Berdoll is just trying to fill space. It’s annoying, because there’s nothing I hate more than authors trying to fill space. If it doesn’t add to the plot in some way, or offer needed character development, it shouldn’t be there. Berdoll is a master at writing entire chapters filled with information that we already know, re-phrased in some uninteresting way that offers nothing new to the reader.
Berdoll tells us about what happened to Fitzwilliam and Georgiana in the last book. Which we already know about, because it happened in the last book. Still, I have to agree that it’s probably important to relate the backstory, so if a reader just happened to pick up this book first, they have a decent idea of what’s happened recently.
Which is probably while Berdoll related the entire story in Chapter Four.
Darcy spends a length paragraph thinking of the many faults he had when he met Elizabeth, and how he has since overcome all of those faults.
Few men could call themselves more altruistic, benevolent, charitable, fair, high-minded, righteous, hospitable, just, and kind. He had practiced each and every virtue until perfected. He was Master of his Realm and all who inhabited it. Nothing in or of his life proposed his honour anything other than exemplary.
Were this book written by a talented author, I would assume this paragraph being used to illustrate Darcy slipping back into his ‘Pride’ days, but Berdoll is firmly in the OMG DARCY IS PERFECTSEX camp, so I’m guessing this is just another example of her mentally jerking Colin Firth off.
Wait…oops, by bad. That quote wasn’t quite finished:
However, lasciviously eyeing the newly voluminous globes of the mother of his children might pass to do just that (page 81).
Yeah. This chapter is about how large Elizabeth’s tits are.
In some detail.
As it happened, Mr. Darcy, owner of nothing if not his own will, victim of a self-imposed banishment from his wife’s comforting arms, found himself prodigiously aroused (to a vexatious degree) by Mrs. Darcy’s maternally enhanced…maternal enhancements. [snip] As time and libido soldiered on, he was quite powerless to remember that his comely wife and her charming bosom were no longer solely for his delectation. To be driven by desire to have his wife once again was one thing, to be consumed by the need to bury his face between the mysterious, sweet-smelling crevice between her breasts was quite another (page 81).
Wow. That’s, um –
Upon occasion, Elizabeth would fuss with the dainty lace fichu that she carefully draped over her shoulders, resituating it and retying the loose knot to obscure her over-flowing bosom. Each time she made that readjustment Mr. Darcy would glance in her direction then, with great care, turn the page of his paper (page 82).
Okay, I think that maybe –
With each and every step, her bosom bobbed, thereby revealing beneath the translucent lace the fleshly hue of her breasts. (The thought had occurred to Darcy that it may well have been that blessed lace stole that was the sole culprit for inflaming his desire for her so injudiciously.) Regardless, Mrs. Darcy could not cross the room (and she appeared to be crossing the room a perturbing number of times) adorned by that infernally thin, lacy mantle, without Mr. Darcy imagining her without it. Then, of course, he thought of kissing her neck and further undraping – whereupon he was driven either to view the dark of night from the window or to be banished entirely from the room lest his…adoration be evident to all (page 82).
Another worry plagued him. Either entirely incited by sensual contemplations or merely spurred on by them, an odd caprice had overtaken him. He had begun to find any excuse to lean over her, pass by her in a narrow doorway, anything – just to catch her scent. And, most unforgivably, with absolutely no remorse he had stood gazing at her through the crack of the door whilst she bathed (pages 83-84).
Okay, that’s just starting to get a little creepy.
Darcy angsts for a two solid pages, and that’s the end of the chapter.
Whilst her husband skulked about in general denial that he was lusting after her voluptuous figure, Elizabeth remained totally insensible of it. Not only was she oblivious to his stalking her, she laboured under a misapprehension quite the opposite in nature (page 85).
Elizabeth begins to angst. She spends four pages angsting. She’s very horny, and desperately wants Darcy to fuck her, but Darcy doesn’t fuck her. She’s feeling very self-conscious about her stretch marks and flabby stomach and giant breasts and is afraid that Darcy isn’t attracted to her anymore. To this end, she starts doing sneaky things like brushing against him to see if she can get a reaction.
As closely (if surreptitiously) as she eyed his privates, she was certain that upon occasion she detected certain convexities particular to the tumescence of arousal. As closely schooled as she had been in various levels of excitement (and, it must be admitted, the sheer amplitude) of The Master’s Unruly Member, that was something he could not entirely hide from her. Despite this noticeable priapism, he neither invited her attentions nor approached her. In her heart, she knew that he awaited her to again propose intimacy, but she steadfastly clung to her demand that, this time, he come to her. Still smarting from certain undeniable physical failings, she that was both an excuse and an evasion (page 87).
- Elizabeth can tell, from Darcy’s extremely large erections, that he’s still attracted to her. Invalidating her fears.
- Elizabeth knows that because of past events, Darcy is going to wait until she’s ready before initiating connubial connections.
- Elizabeth knows that Darcy is appropriate enough to not come right out and ask her if she’s ready to fuck, he’ll wait for her to initiate things.
- However, due to her low self-esteem, she’s decided not to do that.
I have no idea why Berdoll decided that Elizabeth was going to be such a wimp. When I read Pride and Prejudice, I view Elizabeth as a very mature, intelligent person, making logical decisions and not sitting around angsting about immaterial things.
Then again, I have no idea why Berdoll decided to have entire chapters about the size of Elizabeth’s breasts.
Elizabeth’s back to thinking about Juliette Clisson, the French chick that Darcy used to screw back in his prostitute-visiting days, and the one who delivered a message to Elizabeth from Darcy. She’s still slightly peeved about this. Also, Darcy has been gone a lot recently (horseback riding and fencing to keep his mind off sex, although Elizabeth doesn’t know that) so she’s getting worried that he’s philandering. Sort of worried. She goes into his room and finds him, fully dressed, asleep. So she wakes him up. And straddles him. And demands that they talk. Darcy is slightly taken aback but agrees.
Elizabeth whines and demands to know why he thought it was a good idea to send her a message through his former lover. Darcy agrees that perhaps that wasn’t the best of ideas but she was the only person who was available to take a message. This rather good argument fails to sway her. Elizabeth immediately visualizes them having sex and the name ‘Darcy’ being moaned in a French accent, and starts to sniffle and tries to get away. Darcy tries to comfort her but she pulls away and they wrestle for a bit and he ends up on top. And Darcy pops wood. This fails to please her:
“I am but to speak the name and your ardour returns?”
Her sarcasm was not undetectable.
“Speak the name?” he repeated dumbly.
“Of your former lover,” she said tightly. “I credit your honour that she is indeed, only a former lover” (page 92).
God, Elizabeth is a bitch.
But, instead of that, Darcy admits that he was a fool, apologizes again, and starts kissing her. Their bodies squish together and suddenly everything is wonderful. They kiss passionately and have sex. It’s amazing. Then Darcy falls asleep, because he’s been riding horses all day and is beat. Elizabeth hears a baby crying, and heads off to feed it.
And thus it was, 1/4th of the way through a book with no identifiable plotline, the last thread of conflict was resolved.