As soon as he woke up in the sturdy bed of his country estate, Charles Bingley felt two overwhelming urges; the first one was to see his beloved - but this had happened every day in London, and he was, by then, fairly used to it; the second was to check on his potato seeds.

Coming back to Netherfield was like ending the circle of his misery; he had fallen in love with the most angelic creature he had ever met in Hertfordshire, he would marry her in Hertfordshire, and everything that had happened in-between would have to be forgotten. Somehow, going to the cellar and checking on his future potato plants was another way of putting his life back onto the tracks it shouldn't have swayed from. They had been his main reason for leaving to London on that fateful 27th of November; he knew he would have closely followed their delivery had he not been so emotionally unable to go back around Meryton at the time; he just had to make sure that, like his soon-to-come union with Jane, this plan of his would also come true. More importantly, without them he might never have met Jane again - if only for this, he owed them, at least, a courtesy visit!

When his steward led him into the lowest floor of the mansion, Charles felt his pulse quicken. It had nothing to do with any childish fear of darkness; it wasn't either due to any excitement of entering into an unknown part of his property. Indeed, the dim light provided by the lamp each of them held didn't allow him to really discover this part of his house, and Mr. Blanes was not very talkative about the subject.

To tell the truth, the latter was still very surprised by his master's request. Since he had taken the house, Mr. Bingley had proven to be a good master, taking care of his estate matters even when he had been in London without over-interfering in what John Blanes considered as his tasks; but checking on the potato seeds maturation was something he had asked young Ben to do once a week - young Ben, the less trained lad in the staff! Why the Master would want to look at them was something beyond his understanding. Yet, he had no wish to contradict Mr. Bingley about such a trifling matter; therefore, before opening the old wooden door they had eventually come in front of, he uttered an almost cheerful "Here we are, Sir," and let his master into the room.

The room was a small square one, its walls were of pale grey stone and the floor of clay. His heart pounding wildly, Mr. Bingley breathed in the slightly humid air and entered it. Mr. Blanes totally forgotten, he put his lamp on an old mossy table and took the steps that led him closer to the stacks of boxes that held the potatoes. There appeared to be three completed rows of stacks, aligned against the back wall, going from floor to ceiling, and a fourth incomplete one in front. His breathing still uneven, he held out his hand and his fingers reverently brushed the box on top of the last stack. He seemed to hesitate, his hand lingering on the edge of the box; he looked up to his steward to get his agreement, and, taking Mr. Blanes' slightly upset and utterly bemused air for an acquiescence, his hand plunged and he took hold of one tubercle. The potato was flabby and deformed by some small white arms, just like Mr. Corncrop had said it would be; Charles released a deep breath. On looking up once again at his steward, he realised how odd his behaviour had most probably been; he smiled uneasily.

"Everything seems to be just fine, Blanes. When do you think they will be sown?"

"Everything is fine, Sir. Don't worry. My former master also tried his luck with potatoes and it turned out very well. These are going just the same way."

Mr. Bingley smiled his pleasure at such reassurance. His steward carried on, "And we won't sow them before the end of March as things are going; it's been years since we've had such a cold winter."

"Indeed!"

Mr. Blanes looked expectantly at his master, "Was there anything else you wanted to see?"

"No I thank you. I think we're done."

As he was fidgeting by one of his front windows, waiting for the Bennet carriage, later that day, Charles thought back about the stacks of boxes in the room in the basement. He realised his attitude was a bit foolish but he felt very proud about his potatoes. True, it had been Darcy's idea to begin with, but he had relied on no one to make it real. Paying the rent of Netherfield was not a relevant gentleman's act; deciding of a new way of using his fields was. Moreover he had sensed in some worthy - at least in his opinion - gentlemen's behaviour that his decision was a good one; he had even felt that Darcy was considering him more and more like a peer. Pride was indeed something his potatoes had given him.

Even more foolishly, he felt grateful to his potatoes. They had been the way to reunite Jane and him; indeed, had not he gone to Mr. Gardiner's warehouse that 28th of January, at that particular time, he may have never seen her again and realised how wrong he had been. Indeed, those potatoes had played a tremendous role in his and Jane's happiness. He wondered if she'd be interested in seeing them; he wondered if she even knew how significant those seedlings were; he wondered if he could appear so silly to her, by telling her how he felt. But then, how could he hide from her something so important to him? Why would he have to pretend being someone he was not? Jane had confessed to him she had fallen in love with him for his openness, his goodness and his enthusiasm; it would be wrong to negate these qualities of his. As he saw the awaited carriage pass through the gates, he made up his mind: indeed, he would try and find a moment to tell her about the potato seeds, happen what may!

On passing through the gates of Netherfield, Elizabeth couldn't repress a relieved sigh; her mother's babble about how wonderful Jane's happiness was for whole her family, how rich Mr. Bingley was and how close to Longbourn Netherfield was, was very hard to endure at home but unbearable in the close confines of a carriage. How dearly she regretted she hadn't been granted her wish to walk to Mr. Bingley's estate and join her mother and sister there! But Mrs. Bennet wouldn't heard about it, admonishing her against her wild ways and cautioning her she would never find such a worthy husband as Mr. Bingley if she persisted - not that there was any hope another such worthy prospect would ever come to the area, and should it happen, that she would be able to catch him. Elizabeth looked at her sister, her eyes wide-opened as to express her exasperation, and she only found in her sisters' mild amusement and patience.

Jane was happy. Her natural kindness was emphasised, her usual fortitude with her mother reinforced and her belief in the human goodness more anchored than ever. And just like she didn't wish she had not quarrelled with Charles in her uncle's warehouse, she almost felt glad for her mother's prattle. They were, after all, on their way to Netherfield to see her beloved betrothed and to plan her settling in Charles' property, such a happy future was certainly worth it. But it was not Lizzy's and she understood her annoyance. She only smiled to her sister, trying to offer her some strength to bear with their mother for a short while longer.

When the carriage stopped, Mr. Bingley himself opened the door and helped Mrs. Bennet out.

"Mrs. Bennet, I'm very happy to see you. I hope everything went well."

"Indeed, Sir! I'm very happy to see you too. I hope we're not too early; but you see, Jane was so impatient to come, she made us hurry and we departed long before the appointed hour."

Lizzy's gasp on hearing such an obvious untruth mirrored Jane's laughingly raised eyebrow. The fair lady's smile widened at Charles' candid reply.

"Not at all, Ma'am; I was very impatient myself at having Ja... Miss Bennet here today. I confess I've been pacing along the front window this past half-hour!"

Mrs. Bennet smirked and withdrawing, let him help one of her daughters out. She almost groaned in frustration when her eldest's hand emerged; had Lizzy been the next, she could have found a way to allow the young couple some privacy. She suspected that her brother's wife had been a very efficient chaperone - Madeline had always been such a prude - and she was determined to help things to change. Jane and Mr. Bingley were formally engaged; it was a glorious match; as long as nothing exaggerated happened, she was ready to be oblivious of small breaches to etiquette. But it was not to be, not for this time anyway - yet she was not Frances Bennet if Jane and Mr. Bingley hadn't time enough by themselves for at least one kiss before their return to Longbourn!

Jane's smile was what Charles had been waiting for since waking up and it nonetheless warmed more his heart than he expected. She was dazzlingly beautiful in her warm coat; her eyes shone and were tenderly looking into his. He helped her out of the carriage, taking her second hand in his when she was out and raising both to his lips, while his gaze didn't leave her face. Everything that couldn't be said, with her mother just a few feet away and her sister still in the coach, was expressed nonetheless. His eyes told her he had missed her, hers replied that she had counted the hours; his hand lovingly squeezed hers, she replied in kind; and when his mouth brushed her gloved fingers, she let them linger and discreetly caress his lips. As his smile became even broader, she blushed a little and uttered a soft, "Good day, Charles".

"Welcome to Netherfield, Jane. I'm very happy to have you here."

"I am very happy to be here too," she replied. Then, hearing the tap-tap of a shoe on a carriage floor, she carried on, laughingly, "And I'm sure Lizzy would be very happy to be out!"

Charles chuckled and helped his future sister out. "Shall we go inside? Tea should be ready and then we'll have a tour around the house with Mrs. Nicholls."

"So you're still alone, Sir? Your charming sisters are not yet arrived?"

"Not at all, Ma'am! I suspect they're barely on their way. It's amazing how waking up early takes a very different meaning in Grosvenor Street," he laughed.

"And your... friend?" Mrs. Bennet's tone had taken a scornful turn.

"Darcy? He had such a long way to go. Normally coming from Derbyshire takes a day longer, but he insisted he wanted to be here as soon as he could. So I really don't expect him before the end of the day."

While Mrs. Bennet was obviously pleased at not having Mr. Darcy around for the day, Elizabeth's gaze fell on the floor at hearing Mr. Bingley's last news. She had smiled at his kindly teasing his sisters but she had been taken by surprise by her mother's last question and even more by the gentleman's reply. Why would Mr. Darcy shorten the trip from his far away Derbyshire to be in Hertfordshire sooner? His repentance about his actions in Mr. Bingley's and Jane's story couldn't be the reason - he had done enough on that topic; yet she couldn't allow herself to think it was for her and she was still not sure she wanted to think it was for her. Very dissatisfied with the state of confusion the mere thought of the man was able to throw her into, she absentmindedly followed their host.

"What a sweet room you have here, Mr. Bingley; I had kept such a fond memory of it since November. Indeed, in the carriage, I was remembering the good time I had last time I came here with two of my daughters. It seems just a few days ago and yet so many things have happened. And how delightful is the prospect over that gravel walk, even with the frost!" Mrs. Bennet barely stopped to breathe, preventing an upset Elizabeth to try and put some sense in the conversation. "Netherfield is really the handsomest place in the country; I wondered if you had lengthened your lease? Of course you must have; otherwise you wouldn't ask Jane to come and put it to her taste... How good it is to know that my daughter will be just a few miles away! I'll be able to call quite frequently; she will certainly need me to manage such a grand house."

Elizabeth's years of listening to her mother had made her quite immune to hearing improprieties; yet whether it was the memory she had of the conversation with Mr. Darcy all those months ago or the astounding silliness of Mrs. Bennet's speech just then, she had to interfere. She shouldn't have feared Mr. Bingley's unease; he was smilingly nodding at her mother but his mind was dedicated to the enjoyment created by Jane's thumb tickling his palm and the feeling of her leg against his. Unaware of his obliviousness - but did it really matter? - Elizabeth tried to address her mother's silliest topic.

"I, for one, feel much better than when I was last in your drawing-room, Mr. Bingley. Jane's health cannot compare with what it was then and I dare say she's even more beautiful!"

The gentleman's attention snapped at hearing his name. "Indeed, she is beautiful," he replied, raising his betrothed's hand to kiss it once again, "But she was handsome even in illness."

Jane blushed prettily and Elizabeth smiled happily on witnessing such a sweet couple. Mr. Bingley had obviously not paid any attention to her mother's earlier babble; she decided to stop distressing herself un-necessarily. While the tea was drunk, Mrs. Bennet kept professing her universal truths; Jane and Mr. Bingley kept promising the other happiness to come - whether it be sooner or later; and Elizabeth kept sighing - either in annoyance at her mother or in contentment at her sister.

They had been touring the house for more than an hour, and even Jane's patience was eventually tried by her mother's constant comments about what she should do or how she should do it. Mrs. Nicholls was very helpful and that stirred in Mrs. Bennet a jealousy at not being the counsellor. Her tone had become sharp, her shrieks louder and her advice even less accurate. Elizabeth felt that her sister's control was slowly slipping away and a glance at Mr. Bingley showed her that he was also aware that something was amiss. Fortunately, they had seen all the rooms but one - the master's bedroom, which was not to be seen by Jane before the wedding night - and all Miss Bennet's wishes had been thoroughly noted by the housekeeper. In fact, she had suggested very few changes; the house was nice enough as it was and she was not used to spending more than was really required - moreover in a house not even property of her future husband.

"I find myself in dire need of fresh air," Mr. Bingley exclaimed - rather falsely in Elizabeth's ear. "Would anyone like to join me for a short turn outside?"

"I confess it is a tempting idea!" On hearing her mother's exasperated sigh, Elizabeth realised she might have spoken too fast. Indeed, Mr. Bingley and Jane wouldn't let her alone and therefore wouldn't be able to enjoy the other as they had not been able to during this visit. She tried to back up, "But then, it is so very cold; I prefer to stay inside after all."

"What nonsense, Lizzy! As if a low temperature could frighten you. You must go outside and I'll accompany you and Mr. Bingley." Jane replied. Not unaware of her sister's reason to decline, she couldn't resolve on achieving her own happiness on Lizzy's misery.

Shaking her head in deep discontent, Mrs. Bennet groaned that she would also join them. If Lizzy strolling in the garden couldn't be helped, at least she would keep her by her side!

They put on the coats that had been discarded for the long visit and started their stroll in the garden. Mrs. Bennet requested Elizabeth's arm and made her take the slowest step. Soon enough, Jane and Mr. Bingley had outstripped them and she made them take seat on a nearby bench.

"Well, well, well; is it not perfect, Lizzy? You can have all the fresh air you wish, I can remain seated and Jane and her Mr. Bingley are blissfully alone!"

"But, Mama, do you think it proper to let them out of your sight?"

"Oh!" cried her mother, "they can do nothing really improper outside on such a cold day, now, can they?"

Elizabeth repressed a giggle, "I hardly imagine what you mean, Mama..."

"And that is very proper; you are not engaged nor likely to be for the next months; you have no business to know anything of the kind."

Her daughter's astonished yet amused air didn't stop her, "But I confess there was a time when Mr. Bennet was taking me outside on such cold days just for the sake of being alone with me."

Elizabeth's now really shocked "Mama!" broke her reminiscence.

"Anyway, we're very well where we are. We may as well leave them by themselves without fear. After all, they are now engaged! And such a good match it is!"

Elizabeth sighed inwardly; Mrs. Bennet had started her favourite speech these days, she knew she could shut her mind for a while without fearing discovery. She tried to refrain her thoughts from going all the way to Derbyshire but only managed by thinking about the visit they had just made. Back in November, she had been in a lot of the rooms they had seen, and, almost in each, she had a memory of words - more often sharp than kind - she had had with a tall and dark gentleman. Then her thoughts drifted to her mother's earlier comment about her not getting engaged soon. Then she scolded herself for the way her mind was working. Then she wondered - for the umpteenth time - if she was being presumptuous, as long as this gentleman's attentions were concerned, and, if she were not, what would be her answer. Between her mother's prattle and her inner questions, she didn't take benefit of the fresh air as she had hoped and wished she had stayed inside - at least, she would have been less cold.

Meanwhile, Jane's gloved hand resting lightly on Charles's arm, the couple had reached the corner of the house. After Charles had enquired about her earlier unease and Jane had thanked and assured him everything was all right, she had talked about the comfort and charm of his house but hadn't found the adoring listener she was used to.

"Charles, 'tis my turn to enquire if you're all right. You really must believe me, I'm perfectly fine and more than happy to steal a few moments with you."

"My Dearest, you must not fret. I know you're all right and I'm thrilled to have you for myself for a while. I must say your mother has been most kind!"

Jane blushed and smiled; she was sure it was indeed one of her mother's tricks and, for once, didn't find fault with it.

"No, Love; I have one thing on my mind... I really want to tell you but I'm afraid you'll find me foolish if I do. And after having lived all my life without one thought about the other's opinion save Darcy's, 'tis almost frightening to realise I depend so much upon yours."

Jane stopped their walk and faced him. "Charles, I love you! I cannot find you foolish; if you wish to tell me something, you must do it without fearing censure or mockery."

He smiled tenderly and kissed her on the forehead - as their public surroundings restricted him. "All right, Jane. This morning I went into Netherfield's cellar," and he went on, telling her the entirety of his potato seedlings history.

Jane had been politely interested at the beginning, had winced when the tale had reached November and her eyes widened at the end of it. "So that is why you'd come to my uncle's warehouse when I happened upon you?"

Charles nodded, his eyes lost into hers. She remained silent, then said, "Those potatoes have played a significant role for us, have they not?"

He smiled and nodded once again. His grin widened when she carried on, "I've always had a fondness for potatoes, would you show them to me?"

"I'd be honoured," he said, placing his hand on hers and leading her to a small door on the side of the mansion. "I hope you're not afraid of the dark, though."

She laughed and he laughed with her. Remembering Mr. Blanes' gestures, he unbolted the gate, retrieved the lamp that was on the wall and lit it.

"Shall we?" he shyly asked.

"We shall," she firmly replied.

Facing the old wooden door for the second time that day, Charles Bingley felt much more confident; he knew what was behind it, he knew he had not been too foolish; he knew that Jane shared his feelings for his potatoes. He also felt slightly light-headed; for the first time since his proposal, he was totally alone with Jane. And since no one was likely to find them here, they were alone for an indefinite period of time. The little games they had been able to play in London had been delightful but hardly satisfying when he knew the bliss her lips were able to offer. He would be damned if he didn't try to know this ecstasy once again. He opened the door, placed the lamp on the old mossy table and watched his Jane's amazement. She was still standing at the door and appeared to be counting the boxes.

"There are too many to count, Dearest."

She asked him how many fields he was planning to sow; he replied that this was only for ten acres. He took her hand to lead her towards the boxes.

"May I?" she tentatively asked.

"Of course you may; there's as much yours as mine!" he said, standing by her side.

She removed her gloves, cautiously took one and placed it in her opened palm. Apparently particularly intrigued by the white tentacles, she placed her forefinger on the tip of one of them and delicately brushed it; the pulp of her finger slowly trailed down along it until it reached the brownish tubercle. Her middle finger joined its sibling to test the suppleness of the potato; she let a surprised "Oh" out. Her eyes, which hadn't left the vegetable, sought his opinion but, instead of a quiet sea, she found in his gaze a raging ocean.

At first, Charles had been moved by the truth of Jane's obvious interest; then the beating of his heart had quickened and his breathing had gone shallow. He had closed his eyes but the image of Jane's finger's dance had been even more vivid and the potato skin had transformed into human skin, male skin, his skin. He had snapped them opened, taken a ragged breath and tried to regain control over his thoughts. When she looked up at him, she took him by surprise; her eyes were bright clear, as pure as a sunny mid-day sky, as innocent as a child's, and utterly confident. She apparently hadn't reached the same conclusion as he, that they were alone, that there was no Mrs. Gardiner or Mrs. Bennet to ascertain the propriety of their acts, that they were... free! Her eyes first showed astonishment; then he saw the storm form in her August sky eyes. Their blue deepened, she blinked several times and her pupils became wider. When her tongue darted to moisten her lips, he felt his grip on his desire loosen; without letting her release the potato, he leant down to her and tentatively licked the now humid spots. Still unsure of her willingness, he backed up a little to give her a chance to escape; he saw her eyes were closed, he felt expectancy in the leaning of her body and he heard her slightly ajar mouth exhale a disappointed sigh. He groaned "Oh, Jane!" and embraced her; their bodies at last were touching - even if it were through thick layers of winter clothes; his hands cupped her face, her bonnet preventing them from truly cradling it, and his mouth hungrily sought hers.

Jane randomly found one box and let the potato she still held fall into it; she shyly rested her now free hands on his upper arms. The tension she felt in them, the power she felt she had almost unleashed, made her giddy. She felt he was devouring her mouth, his lips and tongue teasing her upper lip, then her lower, searching her tongue, and, at first, she didn't know how to reply. Their first kisses, on their engagement day, had not been wholly innocent, but the novelty of their acknowledged love, the unbelief at their eventually being engaged, the sanctity of those first moments together had kept them away from wildness. There, in the potato cellar, after so many days of frustrating little proofs of their attachment, there was no more room for gentleness and there was no more need for it either. While in London, she had come to enjoy the growing knot in her stomach that always accompanied their taking advantage of every opportunity to share more than tender words; he had just been able to create an even stronger need with his mouth. She impulsively reached for his hair, pulled him back slightly, opened her eyes to dive into his hazy yet faintly questioning ones and resolutely drew his mouth back to hers. She showed him she was as hungry as he was and his moans were evidence that he was more than willing to let her take as much as she wanted.

Unable to remain passive for long, he blindly untied the ribbons of her bonnet and only managed to make a real knot but with enough length to be able to push the offending hat on her back. Now fully able to relish in the feeling of her soft skin and silky hair, he let his mouth wander; his tongue tasted the skin under her chin, his teeth nibbled on her earlobe, his lips grazed down her throat and stopped at the edge of her coat. Every new attention he showed her was rewarded with sighs and cries; he felt her stiffen when he started his path down her neck. His desire urged him to get rid of her coat, to get rid of her dress, to get rid of everything that was between him and her ivory body, yet he didn't. A dark and cold cellar was not the place he had envisioned for their first time as man and woman; he respected her far too much to even suggest the idea.

But if Charles wanted his will to overpower his body, he had to take a definite course of action; he stopped loving her with his mouth, stopped loving her with his hands and, breathing heavily, he backed against the far away wall. He placed his palms against it and forcefully pushed back; his chest still raised and fell strongly; his eyes were still of the stormy shade and still yearning for her.

Jane watched him walk away, her breathing as ragged as his, her eyes as craving as his. The part of her skin he had touched was still tingling from his ministrations; the part of her skin he hadn't touched ached for him, and her lips were still as eager to play and reply and fight with his. She saw in his jaw his resolve not to lead them onto a path of no-return. Her mind, her sense of propriety, her reason told her he was right and she felt her heart explode out of love for him; yet she didn't wish to listen to them. Throwing away all caution, she slowly raised her hands to the knot he had made of her bonnet ribbons and untied it. Her eyes hadn't left his, she saw them widen; and then he shut them firmly closed. She waited until he had re-opened them and she let the bonnet fall on the floor behind her. She swiftly looked at his mouth; it was gaping. Her hands around her throat, she relived the kisses he had placed there. Shuddering at the exquisiteness of the memory, she boldly started unbuttoning her coat, revealing the hollow at the base of her throat, then the lace scarf covering her upper chest, then her whole dress. Then, as suddenly overcome by the audacity of her gesture, her arms fell along her sides and she downcast her eyes.

Charles had unblinkingly watched the lapels of her coat slowly opening. His breathing had become laboured. His hands were now clenched in tight fists. His objections about the place faded away as the deep blue woollen fabric parted and exposed what he hadn't wanted to expose by himself. By the time all the buttonholes were empty, he was shaking with the restraint his will was still putting on his body to prevent him from going to her and expose even more. Yet, he couldn't fight the tenderness that made him want to comfort her, once her daring had vanished, once she showed him that, underneath the coat that had been opened, she was still mild-tempered and shy Jane. Before she had time to feel he had moved, his arms were around her, her light form was pressed against him, and he was whispering foolish words in her hair. He disengaged her face from his great-coat and made her look in his eyes. His intentions were honourable; he wanted to show her how much he loved her and that her performance had not damaged his good opinion of her. His actions showed her much more: they showed her he worshipped her body. From her eyes, his gaze moved onto her mouth; her lips were still swollen by their previous kisses and their raspberry tone tempted him way beyond his self-control abilities. As his hands caressed her back up to her nape, his mouth went down to hers and placed a peck onto it. The feeling of her hands tentatively coming to rest onto his chest gave away her acceptance and made his remaining will shatter. His mouth started a frantic dance on her face while his hands were as frenetic over her body. She partook in the embrace, her tongue as intrudingly invading his mouth as his, her lips kissing whatever they happened upon, her teeth trying to answer nibble for nibble. Both had lost the power of speaking coherent words, but his groans responded to her moans.

As Jane felt his lips once again tasting the soft skin of her throat, she whimpered louder and let her head fall. She wanted what he had made her feel earlier, she wanted more than that. Her hands had erred and were now lost in his hair, putting a pressure on his scalp so that withdrawing would not be an option for him.

While his hands were stroking her back, and then wandered lower, discovering the curves of her backside and revelling in their discovery, his mouth had reached the part they had not been able to reach earlier and hungrily devoured this virgin territory. The scarf proved to be a light opponent and was out of his way without either knowing how it had happened. Yet both realised that it was no longer there. Charles was giddy with all the new sensations that were assailing him; the skin of her d�colletage was warm and incredibly soft; it smelled different, more intimate. His left leg sought and found the opening between hers; he groaned when she yieldingly pressed her core against his thigh. He knew then, there was no way she could not be aware of his desire for her.

Jane's mind was no longer able to think, she existed by what she felt, would he stop touching her, she would vanish. She welcomed all those new sensations with eagerness although the heat in her inside was reaching an almost painful pitch. When she felt him withdraw slightly, she once again expelled a disappointed "No" and tightened the grip she had on his hair. Yet she loosened it as his hands replaced his lips, then went further, wandering upon the fabric of her dress. She impulsively arched her back and felt with surprise that his fingers had found two astoundingly sensitive spots on her breasts. What he was creating by a simple rubbing was overpowering, her knees went weak and her body started to sway in his arms.

Charles had never been a rake, yet he wasn't innocent either. He knew that Jane was nearing her climax, and, try as he might, he couldn't regret that her first one would happen in a potato cellar. Temptation to slide one finger under the fabric became overwhelming. He brushed the edge of her neckline up to the lapel of her coat with his fingertips; she used the last remnants of her strength to help him disengage her arm from her coat sleeve; his index finger went back to the dress and slowly drew it over her shoulder. The linen fell, revealing a part of what he burned to see but still hiding so much. His body stiffened further, his thigh intruded further between hers. His lips returned to the place they had so enjoyed earlier and he nuzzled the fabric down to discover a nipple. As soon as his tongue touched it, he heard a change in Jane's moans; they became uninterrupted. And as he kept playing with it, he felt her form straighten against him, the sweet music of her cries playing in his ears. Suddenly she went limp and mute and he used the grip he had on her to prevent her from collapsing onto the clay.

Jane was crying. Silent and fat tears were making their way on her flushed cheeks. She was also panting. She felt like she would never be able to inhale enough air to regain her breath. As reality made its way through her daze, she noticed that her hands were still in Charles' hair, that she was almost straddling him and that one of her breasts was exposed. When she was able to move, she hurriedly recovered her chest, finding her lace scarf halfway down her back and disengaging from him, she tried to turn around and brushed her tears away.

"Jane, what is the matter?" Charles asked worriedly.

She swallowed twice before being able to voice a reply. "What must you think of me!" she eventually said, her voice cracking in another fit of tears.

Charles put his hands on her arms and made her turn around. His body was hurting from the lust he had felt for her a moment before but his mind had regained all its clarity. "Jane, Angel, I love you. I think you're the most beautiful creature on Earth. I think you're incredibly sweet and soft. I think I want to repeat this as often as we can," he replied soothingly.

She painfully repressed a sob and rested her cheek against his throat. "You do?" she asked shyly.

He helped her put her sleeve back and held her tightly. He wasn't sure enough of his ability to remain poised if he kissed her face, so he only put his lips on her temple. "You made me the happiest man today, Jane. I know what I did was highly improper but I can't regret it. My heart and mind love you for all your wonderful qualities but my body loves you for what you make it feel. We didn't become man and wife today because I would never force you to and because those potatoes, as dear as they are to me, are not the witnesses I deem worthy of you for this event. You deserve the softest sheets and the warmest fire, you deserve the most comfortable bed and the handsomest room."

Jane had dried her eyes against his tie and withdrew a little to gaze squarely in his eyes. "No Charles. I don't deserve anything. I just need you. And I trust you. If the marital act..." he winced at the word, she shrugged," or however you call it, has anything to do with what just happened... Well..." Jane's pink cheeks turned to scarlet.

Charles grinned, "Well?"

"Well, I'll be happy to experience it," she rushed into saying, hiding once again into his neck cloth.

Charles laughed and made her look at him. "I shall remember this!"

She replied impishly, with a hint of a smile, "I know you shall!"

After a while, Mrs. Bennet had made Elizabeth and her return to the drawing room. The longer their t�te-�-t�te, the happier seemed the eldest lady. After scolding her daughter for her impatience, she suggested she take a book and remained, quietly, staring at the blazing fireplace. When Jane and Mr. Bingley uneasily entered the room and apologised for their lateness, she wouldn't hear of it and only smiled broadly at the couple. The fact that the gentleman's neck cloth was clearly askew and that her eldest was seriously dishevelled made her exhale a satisfied sigh. If both were highly surprised by her behaviour, none showed it and the call ended soon after.

Once on their way to Longbourn, Mrs. Bennet only said, "Well, Jane, I must say I had a wonderful time at Netherfield, as always. I hope it was instructive for you too!"

Elizabeth looked at her sister with wide eyes, shock at her mother's innuendo plain on her face. Jane blushed forcefully and barely whispered her agreement. Once Lizzy managed to catch her sister's eye, she made clear she would gladly have some insight on what her elder had learned. Jane bit her lip and nodded in reply.

Sow Potatoes, See What you Shall Reap, Chapter 24