Fifty Shades of Mr Darcy: A Parody (26 page)

Elizabeth shook her head. She could not believe her dreams were being shattered so. The non-orgasmic sex she could take, the arrogance that had led Mr Darcy to sunder her sister and Bingley, but
this
? This turned the whole title of the book upside down, and made a mockery of the entire premise. This she could not forgive.

Turning, she began to run, despite her light-headedness and shock, back across the wildflower garden to the safety of the house.

‘Elizabeth! Wait!’ cried Mr Darcy.

She ran on, tears blinding her, until Mr Darcy grabbed her by the shrubbery.

‘Where are you going, Lizzy?’ he asked desperately. ‘Please don’t run away. Try … try to understand.’

Elizabeth shook her head wildly. She could not look into those intense grey eyes, for fear they would melt her resolve. ‘No … no … I must return to Longbourn. Let me go at
once, I beg you.’

Mr Darcy released her shrubbery and straightened up, and when he spoke his voice was cool and distant.

‘I feared my first instincts were correct, Miss Bennet. You cannot handle my fifty shades. Not many women can.’

Curiosity pricked her. ‘Did you show your other Submissives?’

His mouth tightened. ‘I did. And most fled. I had hoped you would be different.’

By now the tears were coursing down Elizabeth’s cheeks. ‘You have misled me, Sir. You encouraged me to believe that “fifty shades” referred to your complex, multilayered
personality. Not … not
this
.’

Fifty
lampshades
? It was just a bad joke.

‘Wait, let us discuss this rationally,’ Mr Darcy said calmly. ‘We have two choices as far as I can see. We can leave this hanging, and there could be a sequel
…’

They both paused, considering the implications. It would mean even more double entendres, more schoolboy-level sexual innuendo, with the puns becoming progressively weaker and weaker as the
author ran out of rude words – it would be, frankly, exhausting.

‘Could you honestly be bothered to go through it all again?’ Mr Darcy asked. Elizabeth wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

‘Not really,’ she confessed. ‘I think it’s probably best to make this book a one-off.’

‘In that case, should I just shut the shed door?’ Mr Darcy asked. ‘We can just pretend this never happened.’ He looked so hopeful, so vulnerable, that Elizabeth could not
find it in her heart to deny him.

‘Very well,’ she breathed. ‘Let us shut the door, Fitzwilliam.’

‘You know what they say – when one door shuts, another one opens,’ Mr Darcy said salaciously, with a wicked glint in his eye. ‘How about we open your back door,
Elizabeth?’

‘Let us save that for another time, Mr Darcy,’ Elizabeth said curtly. ‘I believe it would be best to end this book on a traditional note.’

‘You mean, “they lived happily ever after”?’

‘That would be perfect.’

Mr Darcy sighed. ‘Very well, Elizabeth, if it pleases you. We will live happily ever after.’

Elizabeth gazed deep into his mesmerizing, steel-grey eyes. He was a complex, fucked-up, psychologically unstable billionaire, but he was
her
billionaire, for ever and ever.

‘The end,’ she breathed.