by Jaye Peaches
His unyielding hold slackened. “You will sit before me on my steed and I shall take us together. You are light and my horse is strong. It won’t be as fast as on your own horse, but I will be able to control him better and we can take a more direct route than the turnpike.” He let her go, his hand dropping to his side.
Alice gawped in disbelief. “You will take me?”
“I never said you shouldn’t go. Of course I shall take you. I am your husband and it is my duty to bring you safely to your ailing mother.”
She had misjudged him and had believed he would not allow her to leave. Her impatience had not served her well. She melted into his arms for a moment, knowing he intended to keep her safe and the cocoon he created around her made her realise the journey scared her terribly. Regardless of her riding skills, she could not have done the journey alone. She roused herself, pushing away from his embrace. “We must go now. Please, make no more delay.” She headed to the door.
Edmund took her hand and squeezed it. The touch stopped her in her tracks. She feared he was about to change his mind and force her to stay.
“You cannot go like that. You will need to change your clothes.” With a tug, he led her towards the marble staircase, calling for his servants as he moved.
At the bottom step, he gave instructions for his horse to be saddled up and made ready for them.
In the bedroom, she removed her gown and petticoat, wondering what clothes would be suitable for riding. Edmund entered the room holding a pair of riding breeches.
“These I wore as a boy. They should fit you.” Edmund held out the thick breeches.
She looked at the clothes with astonishment—men’s clothing!
“Alice, you will have to ride astride the horse,” he explained.
“Oh. I’ve not done that before.” She held the breeches to her waist. They looked strange and she wondered what it would feel like to have so much fabric between her legs.
She left her shift on, tucking it into the generous waist and the corset remained to support her bosom. Over the top, she wore one of Edmund’s shirts and then a spencer jacket, buttoned up with a scarf. In the valley, the summer warmth remained, but up at the top of the Peaks, in the rain and mist, it would be cold.
By the time they were ready to leave, the rain had turned to drizzle and seemed close to stopping. No blue sky to be seen, but lighter clouds had replaced the dark oppressive ones.
Edmund helped Alice into the saddle, sitting her forward, he then swung up and over to sit behind her.
“This is most peculiar,” remarked Alice, feeling the horse between her knees.
With a kick of his heels, the horse set off at a canter. Ignoring the main path, Edmund, just like the messenger, opted to head for the open fields. Immediately it was necessary to climb and he chose a path that wound up the hillside, up higher and higher into the treeless Peaks.
Alice’s bonnet, a snug fit about her face, protected her from the remaining spits of rain. The journey was hard on both horse and riders. The wind, as they moved out of the shelter of valley, buffeted them. She kept her face down, staring at the mane of the horse. Edmund kept the reins in his own hands.
Now and again, the great black stallion snorted and tossed his head up and down, as if in protest. His brisk canter slowed to a trot, and as they reached the steepest inclines, he stomped with a slow gait. An increasingly frustrated Alice envisaged her mother, lying feverish in a bed, her father standing forlornly by and no sign of their only child. The time dragged as the ground gave out beneath the horse’s hooves, causing them to sink deeper into the peat.
It was as they reached the top of the Peaks that it became apparent the horse had gone lame. Edmund dismounted and examined the horse’s legs. “A shoe has come loose. We must go to the coaching inn and hope they can provide a replacement.”
Alice groaned in frustration. On foot, Edmund led the horse towards the inn, which lay less than half a mile away and slightly off their chosen path. As they met the turnpike, they spied a mail coach, its wheel gone and lying on its side. The coachman standing by, shook his head and kicked the damaged wheel. The passengers gone, no doubt by foot to the comfort of the inn.
“This turnpike is a disgrace,” said Edmund angrily, shouting over his shoulder. “It is hard enough in summer, by winter when covered in snow, it is impossible.”
Alice leant forward over the horse’s mane. “Will the inn have a spare horse?”
“I don’t know. I pray they do.”
Edmund’s purse became the deciding factor. While Alice took a bowl of broth, standing by the blazing fire with the passengers of the abandoned coach, Edmund convinced the innkeeper to release a horse to him and a bag of coins exchanged hands.
The steed— more accustomed to pulling wagons and coaches than having people on his back—wasn’t the fastest mount, but he was strong. The horse’s broad shoulders forced Alice’s legs apart even wider than the last mount, but she didn’t complain.
Descending the winding paths, the horse’s gait rocked and slipped as he struggled with his footing. She clung to his thick mane of coarse white hair. Edmund reassured the horse with a masterful voice, tempering him with quiet words and encouraging him when he stumbled. Eventually, they reached a sturdier path and picked up speed. Now it was evening, the hidden sun quickly lowering in the sky and the gloominess grew worse. Alice’s heart sunk with it. She feared they were too late. Before them lay Macclesfield and her parents’ house.
* * *
Edmund had to hold his wife upright. Her legs could barely function. Supporting her weight as she dismounted, he led her into Dodsworth House. The borrowed horse, once fed and watered, would be returned to the coaching inn and with luck his own newly shod horse returned by first light.
For a man accustomed to arduous marches, the ride had been gruelling. Riding two abreast on a horse over such a terrain had meant pushing both horses to their limits. He hoped his beloved stallion would forgive him in time.
Alice, her body shivering, hovered in the doorway. She had told Edmund as they approached the house that she feared they were too late.
Henry Aubrey greeted the couple in his hallway. “Ned,” he said sombrely. “I am very grateful for your endeavours to reach here so quickly. Alice, your mother remains very ill. The doctor has been twice to bleed her, but I fear it is too late for her.”
“No,” She put her hand to mouth and shook her head vigorously. “Now that I am here, she will revive, I’m sure of it.”
Henry said nothing about her strange attire, probably guessing at the nature of his daughter’s dramatic ride over the Peaks. He offered Edmund and his wife refreshments, but Alice dismissed them, flying up the stairs to her mother’s room.
Edmund followed, having shaken off the mud from his boots. The room where his mother-in-law lay was basking in heat—a fire had been lit. On the bed lay Jane Aubrey. Her face deathly white and clammy, her grey hair knotted with sweat and her lips mumbling incomprehensively. Now and again, her body would twitch and flail about in distress.
“Oh, Mama,” sobbed Alice. He helped Alice to a seat by the bed and watched as his wife held her mother’s hand tight in her own and wept.
It was how the night began and progressed. Alice refused to leave her mother’s side. Drinks were brought and he encouraged Alice to sip upon them for fear she might lose her own strength. She nursed her mother competently once the tears had dried up. Wiping away the sweat with a cold cloth and talking softly to Jane, Alice spoke of childhood adventures and other recollections.
Not once did Jane’s eyes open to acknowledge the presence of her much-loved daughter. Edmund, observing from a window seat, feared Jane would never open them again.
When Henry joined them, sitting himself by the fire, Edmund suggested they put it out.
“Out?” blurted Henry.
“She burns up. It is too hot in here.”
Henry’s forehead furrowed with wrinkled lines of confusion. “But the fever must be drawn out
.”
“I have seen men with festering wounds who have survived because they were kept cool, not hot.” Edmund turned to face Alice. “It was the advice given to Caroline by the doctor who saved Frederick. She used quinine too and I believe the distillation of willow bark boiled in wine is good for fevers too.”
Alice straightened up. “We have a willow in the garden, do we not, Papa?”
“I will ask cook to see if she can make a draught,” said Henry rising swiftly. He looked at the raging fire and pulled a face. “I hope you are right, Ned.” He picked up a pitcher of water and put out the fire.
As the night continued, the temperature in the room dropped considerably. Edmund found a blanket and wrapped it around Alice, but told his wife to leave her mother uncovered. He noted Jane didn’t appear quite as restless.
In the early hours, Henry arrived with the brewed draught. He pressed it to his wife’s lips and with words of encouragement, she began to sip on the liquid, pulling a face at its bitter taste.
“There, there, my sweet,” he said settling her back on the bed.
Edmund, having never had the company of his parents for very long, could only watch as father and daughter rallied and gave each other words of comfort. In the candlelight, with the embers of the fire smouldering, Edmund sat in the corner of the room and played whatever role he could to help.
His wife’s devotion to her mother touched him deeply. That night he was overcome with a profound sense of love towards Alice and a deep regret that he hadn’t expressed it enough to her. He had used his body to give her carnal pleasure, moderated her unacceptable behaviours, but failed to simply declare his love. She had been patient towards him and she deserved a tangible declaration in words that were sweet to her ears.
He prayed, as the dawn birds began to sing, that all wasn’t lost for his mother-in-law. However, he could no longer keep his eyes open and the lids drooped as he drifted into sleep.
* * *
Edmund started in his chair. The morning light filled the room through the drapes. Pushing then to one side, he could see sunshine and patches of blue sky. The storm had passed away completely.
Daring to look about the room, he saw his wife, her arms and head resting on the foot of the bed, bent over and she appeared to be asleep. Henry, his legs stretched out before him, slept in the chair by the window.
Edmund rose and approached Jane. She lay still propped up on pillows, her face pale and eyes shut. However, he could see she was breathing steadily and slower than previously. Touching her wrist gently, her skin felt cool to touch. Reaching down, he stroked Alice’s hair until she stirred.
“Alice, dearest, wake up.”
Alice’s eyes blinked in the light. “Mama?”
“The fever has broken,” said Edmund quietly. “I believe the worst is over.”
Alice let out a tiny sob, muting it with her hand. “Oh, thank God.”
Henry woke a little time later and seeing his wife sleeping peacefully, told Alice she needed to rest herself.
“I will stay until she wakes,” said Alice bleary eyed.
“No, Alice,” said Edmund firmly. “Henry is quite right, you must rest yourself.”
Unable to protest at two men, she nodded in agreement.
Edmund had the pleasure of taking care of Alice. He led her to the guest room, ordered a bathtub and jugs of hot water. Once filled, he gently stripped Alice of her dirty clothes and lifted her into the hot water, pouring rosewater into to it as she lay reclining.
Stripping off himself, he washed and then put on a clean shirt provided by Henry. The housemaid had found some of Alice’s cast off clothes and brought them to the room. Having finally devoured food in a greedy fashion, Edmund should have been content to lounge beneath the warm bedcovers with his wife, intending to catch up on sleep and rest his aching limbs.
The intention didn’t transpire. He ran his palm down Alice’s smooth belly, feeling the rising and fall of her breathing. He halted short of her navel and removed his hand. She turned her twinkling eyes to look at him—her gaze direct and filled with expectations.
Edmund cleared his throat with a small cough. “I have something important to tell you.”
* * *
With her mother no longer in danger, Alice relaxed in bed. The bath had helped with some of the aches and soreness of the saddle; the food had filled her empty belly, now she longed for other pleasures. Her husband’s announcement snatched her attention away from pleasant thoughts.
His face looked tired and strangely pensive. She missed the weight of his hand on her belly. Alice recollected the previous day, how she had been strident in her determination to reach her mother quickly and how Edmund, far from preventing her, had done his utmost to assist her.
She shifted onto an elbow, giving her a height advantage. “Before you speak. I would like to thank you. I may have been a little impetuous with my plans yesterday, but you intervened and showed me your wisdom and sense. You did so without anger or impatience. I am grateful for all you have done for me and would—”
His finger pressed to her lips. “No, Alice, it is I who wish to give you my gratitude. I have spent much of our marriage expecting great things from you and I have been remiss in my own attitude. I am a man of action, of practicalities and not of words. I can command a regiment with few orders and they require nothing else from me but my skills in warfare and leadership. Being with you, and your parents, last night, seeing you together… I want to tell you how much I love you, Alice.”
She blushed with surprise. “I do understand, Edmund. Maybe not at first. Before we married, I had these ideals of what a uniform represents and now I have peeled the façade away, I know that men show their love not with poetic nonsense but with both flair and pragmatism. Last night you proved how special I am to you.”
“You have grown up so quickly, dearest. Your parents will be proud of you at the ball.” Edmund collected her hand in his and kissed her palm.
Alice lay back on the bed and let her husband resume his tactile exploration. The finger returned to her belly and continued to travel south, over her sensitive mound and down between her lips. Her insides fizzed with expectation and she let out a low moan of delight as he slid his finger up and down her slit.
Edmund tossed the covers to one side, unveiling her. His hands separated her knees, allowing him to move between her legs, and Alice, ignoring the tenderness in her groin, waited for the touch of his manhood.
“Alice!” gasped Edmund, holding her legs apart. “Your thighs!”
She rose up on her elbows, peered between her legs. She had seen the marks in the bath, but hidden under the rose petals, Edmund hadn’t. Her inner thighs were chafed and red from the long ride.
“They are a little sore,” she confessed.
He climbed carefully over a leg and returned to her side. “I cannot fuck you this way. It will cause you distress.”
Alice pouted. The need had grown inside her, a different kind of ache to the one in her bones. It created the familiar buzz of excitement, the racing beat in her heart, and the sensation of slickness in her hidden folds. However, if her husband didn’t wish it, she could not force him to ravish her. She replaced the disappointed expression. “We’re tired, perhaps we should—”
His pressing mouth smothered her words. After a lingering kiss, he smiled at her. “I will have you, Mrs Seymour. Lie on your side.”
Immediately, the fire within her re-lit and she beamed with delight. She turned, and shuffled her bottom backwards. His body shaped about her, spooning her in a close embrace. With his hand on her hip, he angled her wet entrance to meet his cock. With a nudge, her pussy gave a little about its tip and she pushed her bottom farther back, impaling herself on his erection with a gentle sigh.
Undulating her hips up and down on his, she slipped farther down his shaft, driving him deep inside her. His fingers played with her pliable nipples, while lips kissed her neck. All of his little teases drove her crazy with l
ust.
Edmund shifted, gripped her thighs and met her movements with his own gyrating hips. Each forceful plunder jolted her and the bed. She loved his use of power. It gave her no discomfort, only the desire to have him stay there forever.
“Use your fingers,” he whispered into her ear.
Her pulse quickened. The tip of her forefinger lifted her hood and stroked her engorged clitoris. Each rotation of her finger brought her closer to completion and all the while, Edmund dipped in and out of her in tandem and the noise of her copious juices squelching about him were clearly audible.
She wanted more from him and he gave it to her. The palm of his hand journeyed about her body, caressing a thigh, mapping the contours of her belly and cupping her breasts. His indulgent strokes made her glow warmly inside and out. The delicate sensations transformed her skin. It felt like a sheen of satin had been layered on top. How could it feel so blissfully smooth when it was not her touch but his about her flesh?
With a grunt, he unearthed a deep spot inside her, one that send shock waves out of her pussy and into her clitoris. Her fingers trembled, not daring to touch her sensitive nub for fear it might turn from immense pleasure to unwanted pain. Edmund dissolved her resolve with another plunge of his cock, targeting her vulnerable spot with ease.
“Edmund, I come,” she groaned and then her body shook, the muscles in her legs went rigid and she shut her gaping mouth, pressing her lips together tightly to suppress a cry.
He rolled her over on to her stomach and lay over her body, his cock resting between her cleft. Far from feeling crushed by his weight, she felt the warmth of his body cocooned about her own. She parted her legs sufficiently for him to seek out and find her pussy, which still pulsated with her orgasm.
A long moan accompanied his penetration. Then he made his leisurely love, dipping in and out, building her gradually to another climax. She managed to stuff a feather pillow under her, letting her hips rise up to meet him. For a while, Edmund seemed content to use her gently. His fingers traced the outline of her spine and he blew kisses between her shoulder blades. His cock swelled to occupy her entirely, and the resistance of his foreskin against her silky interior brought her to another climax. The orgasm exploded all about her body and without his weight pinning her down, she felt sure she would have thrashed about. Instead, he hovered above her and waited for the near painful spasms to end.