Free Fifty Shades of Mr Darcy: A Parody by William Codpiece Thwackery

course, she married exceedingly well.’
    ‘Ah yes,’ mused Elizabeth, ‘to international MOR star Chris de Burgh. If only we could all be so fortunate.’
    In truth, she had little desire to meet Lady Catherine. After all, it was under her influence that Fitzwilliam Darcy had grown into the smirking sex pervert he was today. And yet her curiosity
was roused. Lady Catherine was by all accounts a powerful woman, and a handsome one, and Elizabeth had many unanswered questions. Chief among them, which of them
did
have the bigger
bubbies?

    Mr Collins could talk of little else all day but their forthcoming visit to Rosings Park that evening. When the time arrived for Charlotte and Elizabeth to attend to their toilette, he came to
their rooms several times, ostensibly to advise them not to keep Lady Catherine waiting, but in actuality to try to catch a glimpse of Elizabeth’s undergarments.
    ‘I beg you to excuse my husband’s sex-pestery,’ Charlotte said apologetically when Mr Collins had finally gone downstairs to await the carriage. ‘I’m afraid the
prospect of an evening in Lady Catherine’s company invariably has a stimulating effect upon his natural urges.’
    ‘In that respect he is not alone,’ replied Elizabeth, thinking of Mr Darcy’s unwillingness to defy his godmother. ‘She appears to exert a powerful hold over
men.’
    Charlotte nodded. ‘It’s true, she is a beauty. You will see for yourself soon enough. But she is also a
total bitch
.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Try not to anger her; she has a wicked temper. I said something she didn’t like last time we were there, and she nearly twisted my nipples off.’
    Presently the carriage arrived and the party set out from the Parsonage, up the long, winding driveway that cut through Rosings Park and led to the house itself. It was a grand, imposing
building of the old style, with some windows, some walls and a door blah di blah. Ascending the steps, they followed the servants into the lobby, and from thence to the room where Lady Catherine
was waiting for them.
    Elizabeth’s heart was in her mouth. She swallowed, hard, and it slipped back down. It was the last thing she needed, she thought anxiously, on the back of her kidney/bladder problem, which
still hadn’t quite righted itself.
    Standing in the centre of the room, one spike-heeled boot pressing down on an unfortunate footman’s head, was a tall, shapely woman in a full leather gimp suit, brandishing a long leather
whip. She turned to glare at the party. ‘Did I say you could come in?’ she snarled.
    Mr Collins cringed. ‘N… no, no, your ladyship,’ he stammered. ‘Please accept our humble apologies. Should we, um, go back out again?’
    Lady Catherine took her boot off her servant’s head. ‘You may go now, Saunders,’ she said coldly. ‘Let me not catch you whistling again, or it’s the thumbscrews for
you.’ The servant scrabbled to his feet and backed hurriedly out of the room, muttering apologies all the way.
    Lady Catherine turned her attention to the newcomers. ‘Well, do not just stand there! Come forward!’ she demanded. As the party tentatively advanced, she pulled off her gimp mask,
and a cascade of pale-blonde hair tumbled down past her shoulders. She was a magnificent-looking woman, despite her advanced years, and her bubbies, Elizabeth noted sourly, were indeed far larger
than her own.
    ‘You!’ Lady Catherine exclaimed, pointing the whip directly at Elizabeth. ‘What is your name?’
    Elizabeth gave a brief curtsey. ‘Elizabeth Bennet, your ladyship.’
    ‘And where do you reside?’
    ‘At Longbourn, in Hertfordshire.’
    Lady Catherine wrinkled her exquisite nose. ‘Hmmm, you are sorely in need of a makeover. Let me see…’ She stepped forward and grasped Elizabeth’s chin, hard, turning it
this way and that with her leather-clad hand. ‘Eyebrow threading. Upper-lip bleach. And for pity’s sake, do something about those open pores.’
    Abruptly,