Dancing was the first step to falling in love, and falling in love was the first step to lying down in tandem. Not soon after Elizabeth had persuaded Mr. Darcy to join her in a Scotch reel, were they flushed from exertion; their bodies vexed with desire. Elizabeth had wanted nothing more but to marry for love, believing matters of the heart must never consume one’s rationality, but Mr. Darcy’s sturdy bratwurst had been pressing up against her the whole eve, and she was filled with carnal desires.
And so, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, two grown adults of reasonable attractiveness, found themselves attempting to engage in fornication. With the servants sent away and the curtains drawn, they retired to his chamber to smash nether regions.
Mr. Darcy, a man with an estate of 10,000 per annum, was reduced to a man well below his station by his lust. He threw Elizabeth on his bed with the vigor of a militia officer with a salary of a mere 100.