The saga of Georgiana and her sailor continues....
Ashcroft’s hand pulled the sleeve of her gown down lower, exposing her breast to his worshipful gaze and he bent to kiss and caress the snowy white peach, his hand then once again covering it as his mouth devoured hers. They were both moaning so loudly that a faint comment outside, such as, “are you certain you saw her come out here Peter?” And then a curious, “Heavens, what is that sound?” in a voice very similar to Darcy’s, never even registered in Georgiana’s brain. When the door to the shed was flung open the light pouring inside immediately caused them both to pull apart and squint toward the opening.
“You bastard!” was only the first thing Georgiana heard Darcy scream as he leaned in and started to pull Ashcroft out by the throat. “Get your filthy hands off my sister! Georgiana! Are you all right?! Who is this filthy bastard?! Did he touch you? Oh My God, he is still touching you!
“Release her you filthy bastard! You are a dead man!”
Suddenly, there were other screams and cries, other voices wandering outside. Darcy’s voice overwhelmed them all. Peter the gardener, usually stoic and mute, suddenly began to run around wildly screaming, “Rape! Rape!”
“Brother! Brother!” Georgiana cried and shrieked as she yanked her sleeve back up and tried to drag his hands from Ashcroft’s throat while her poor husband gagged, his eyes bulging, his hands motioning wildly to Georgiana to say something, anything.
“I will annihilate you, you decaying animal! Someone call a magistrate! There is a rapist here! A rapist I say!”
The last words screeched by Peter the gardener, seconds before he twirled about and blacked out, was, “RRRRRRAPE!”
Georgiana tore out of the garden and ran stumbling to Fitzwilliam’s house, crying all the way in a tone that had dogs barking in the distance. When she arrived and the door was not immediately flung open at her eye splitting shrieks she began banging on it. “Richard!” she screamed up to where she knew his one completed and finished room was located. “Help me please! He’s killing Beverly!” The butler rushed to the back and opened the door a small crack, only to have Georgiana push past him. “He’s killing my Beverly!”
Richard had been slouched on his chair, his feet restng upon a cushion as he ostensibly read that morning’s newssheet. The snores emanating from his wife’s gaping mouth as she lay motionless on the settee, snugly warm before the fire, was thus far the only racket capable of keeping him conscious. His own head kept slipping back as he struggled to remain awake for the exact moment to administer her medicine, but his eyes were determined to close. At the sudden rumpus he raised his head up and stared stupidly at the doorway. Still groggy with sleep he tried to shake off his stupor. He rubbed his eyes. “What the hell is going on now?” he grumbled. "Amanda, what have you done?"
After a full morning of playing Pirate Marauders with son Harry and the blessed ending of a two week self imposed celibacy (a celibacy that was due entirely to an irrational and momentary belief that perhaps Aunt Catherine’s theory was correct - the sight of a penis coming at it would panic a defenseless babe within the womb), Richard was finally able to relax. Somehow thinking his unborn twins were creating the disturbance he leaned over to place his ear upon Amanda’s stomach. All sounds there pointed strictly toward digestion..
Georgiana burst into the room. “He’s killing Beverly!” She gasped for breath and staggered into the room clutching her chest.
“Who is dearest?” Panic gripped Fitzwilliam as Amanda’s eyes fluttered open; she struggled to sit up. “Who is this woman being attacked?!”
“Beverly! My brother is in a rage and strangling Beverly!”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Georgiana. Even Darcy wouldn’t kill a woman.”
“AARGGGHH!!! First Lieutenant Beverly Ashcroft!! Beverly!!” Richard turned to Amanda and they both shrugged. “My Beverly!!” Georgiana whined, aggravated at their sudden slow wits.
In the distance they heard the back servant’s door bang open and shouting down below, then footsteps pounding up the stairs, and then Darcy burst into the room, his face mottled and his mouth twisted in fury. Lizzie arrived seconds after him calling for him to calm himself before he succumbed to a seizure.
“I will kill him! He escaped! He’s an escaped rapist! I will kill him!” Georgiana ran behind her cousin for protection. “Hopefully I will reach him before I have my heart attack!”
Frustrated beyond endurance, Fitzwilliam threw his newspaper down on the ground. “Someone please tell me what the hell is going on!” he finally bellowed.
“My sister’s breast, Fitzwilliam! Yes, it was horrible! Horrible! I saw my sister’s naked breast. I am shocked that my eyes are not bleeding! It was encased in the paw of a degenerate soldier!”
Georgiana stomped her foot. “Degenerate sailor, not soldier! He is a First Lieutenant in the Royal Navy, brother; now please stop! It was not as it appeared.”
“Get me a gun, Fitzwilliam; or a knife, a fork. I care not which. He escaped, he’s thin and wiry, the cad, and very young.” Darcy gasped again for breath. “Very young; nearly prepubescent. But I will find him and make him fight me. I will call him out and kill him. Perhaps I can trip him and club him to death.”