I put an arm around her and gave her a moment to catch her breath.
“Sometimes when the men had gone, and it was just us two, she would be tender, and tell me I was her only real love. Gilda would pet and sooth me, and make love to me—and for a moment it would all be alright.”
A tear slid down her porcelain cheek, and I brushed it away.
“The day you came to the house, she had already had Hugh fuck me. Then they both laughed, and she told me I was worn out now, and she didn’t need me anymore. She said that if I wanted my job, I would find her a new girl to play with, and keep my mouth shut.
“When you found me, I was at wit’s end. I truly believed I would be better dead than forced to con another girl into that pit of torture. It was your fury that saved me, Beth.”
She looked up at me then, those wide blue eyes full of love and gratitude. Fear flashed through them, but she leaned forward and kissed me tenderly on the lips, anyway. I admit, it shocked me, and I froze, unsure of how to respond. Before I could gather my wits, Harriet fled the room.
* * *
“You are falling in love with her.” Elspeth’s voice, in my mind, was as vibrant as if she stood beside me, and it was as right as it was clear.
* * *
Harriet avoided me until the evening, and when she returned, I took her in my arms and kissed her. I told her about my feelings, my confusion, and my curiosity. Most difficult of all, I told her that her story had stirred my desire. I needed her to understand that this newfound passion was not due to her suffering, but her description of making love with a woman raised a wonder and a hunger I could not define.
“I understand, Beth. Maybe, if you like, I can show you, and it will help you decide whether to love me back.”
The veiled declaration stunned and thrilled me, but I resolved to think about it carefully before I pursued anything. Meanwhile, we discussed the full details of my vengeance on Hugh. Harriet knew I was planning something, but not how far I would go. She thinks it is brilliant. We spent that evening making adjustments to the plan, together.
* * *
Tonight I tell her about Elspeth. It is the only secret that still stands between us. When she understands, I will tell her how I am falling in love with her.
* * *
Elspeth, herself, is doing very well. Her belly has begun to swell, her husband is still loving and attentive, and she has begun carving the next of her wooden dolls. With childbirth a very real danger, she has started to teach Ewan the incantations and specifications of the covenant with Elphane. He has given her his oath to carry on her work, though he still does not truly believe, I think. The oath seems to be more to ease her mind, than from any real commitment.
I know I have been bitter about Elspeth’s happiness, and I’ve spent most of my life wishing I didn’t have to live her life as well as mine. There is still a part of me that worries whether we can survive without one another, though, and I would surely miss her presence in my thoughts. I pray that all goes well and she delivers a healthy baby.
There was a time when I looked forward to having babies. Now I am a grateful just to have love. I am off to spend some time with my dear-heart. Perhaps I’ll tell how we became lovers another day.
September 15, 1936
I have spoken to a goddess. Never would I have thought such a thing possible, but now I cannot deny it. The old Gods and Goddesses exist! At least, they did in Elspeth’s time. After the War and The Depression, I wonder if they have abandoned the world since. If they had not, the Goddess should have intervened by now. She said…well, I should tell the tale as it happened.
* * *
Last night was the full moon, and Elspeth wanted to be at Àrd-na-Said for midnight. Ewan saddled their two, sturdy, Galloway ponies at mid-day, insisting on accompanying her to the site. He understood that she wanted to conduct a special ceremony for their unborn child. Ewan still didn’t believe in his wife’s pagan gods, and said so, but he must have known this ceremony would ease her mind about the pending birth. He is a good man, and would do anything to make his love happy.
Once they arrived, Ewan made a camp at the foot of the beinne. They made a small fire and cooked some oats for their dinner, discussing names for the wean while they waited for the moon to rise.
With the moon in the sky, Elspeth began the easy ascent along the well-trodden paths on the beinne. The paths wound around cliffs and crags, meandering all over the crest of the beinne before finally attaining the peak, but it was a much less arduous task than her Beltane climb each year. When she reached the peak, she waved to Ewan, far below, to let him know she had arrived safely. Then she stepped back, out of sight, and found a spot to spread a thick blanket.
She took a seat on the blanket and began the slow, steady breathing that would clear her mind. The first few times Elspeth had attempted to meditate like this, I had caused her no end of trouble. It wasn’t easy to clear a mind that had one eight-year-old child’s thoughts bouncing around in it; those of two made it a monumental ordeal. Over many years, I had learned to isolate my thoughts, and still my curiosity, to allow her the peace and clarity she required.
In all of the years Elspeth meditated and sought the guidance of her Goddess, she had never been given a clear message. The presence of the Goddess could certainly be felt, and vague inspiration or direction gained, but never what we experienced last night.
The voice, when it came, sounded of dried leaves rustling on trees, the moan of a night wind through a cavern, and the soft call of an eagle-owl. Elspeth heard the words it spoke in her own Lowland Scots, but I heard everything in English.
“You have finally come to your strength, my young priestess, and you still bear your sister-soul. Will you make your entreaty now, or would you know my decree for each of the spirits you embody?”
Elspeth shivered, and I cowered within her mind. Elphane was the Goddess of many things, and death and disease were among Her chief disciplines. Every gift from the Goddess was a double-edged blade that could slice as deeply one way as another.
“Your desire is my wish.” Elspeth whispered into the mist that had formed around the crown of the beinne.
“Hear me, then, witch-priestess: your child shall be the next great priestess. You may name her whatever will shield her from the Christians, but you will also name her Greer, as she will be ever vigilant and watchful. She will be my eyes in the Christian realm, and protector of many. Among her descendants will be women whose power and knowledge will change the world.”
“Elizabeth, you are my chronicler.” If I’d been in my own body, I’d have startled at the mention of my name. “I brought you here to learn, and to record Elspeth’s covenant, and what she has sacrificed for her people, so that your descendants may know the truth of it.”
“Ha!” I thought. “I will have no descendants!”
Elspeth was so startled by my interruption that it nearly startled her out of the communion with the Goddess.
“You will.” The voice sliced away my objections. Had it been corporeal, it would have deafened me. “The son you carry will carry your blood to generations yet.”
“Son?” I could not believe it.
“One day, your record will serve to change the course of time, and prevent the end of a civilization. It will be well after your long and comfortable life. I will gift you vengeance, just as I have granted you the lover who will be your lifelong companion.”
It was too much to fathom. I had so many questions, but the Goddess was done with me, for now.
“Elspeth, you have kept the covenant, but your husband has thwarted my will. He believes in nothing, and his denial angers the Gods. Somhlth’s meddling has wrought changes that tear the delicate web of protection you have helped to weave.”
“But you sent Ewan!” Elspeth protested.
“No! I sent you another man, a good pagan man, but Ewan MacCoinnich followed you to the loch, and was watching you bathe. Somhlth was drawn to him by his lust. The wrong
man embodied the God, and now that man denies the Gods exist at all.”
“He will believe before the end, and it will be he who carries out your duty this coming Beltane, but I can no longer oppose the other gods. The plague will return to Scotland.”
Elspeth gasped. “But the people!”
“The people are subject to the will of the Gods, priestess. Man’s inequity brings war and disease, as it will again, in times to come. The Gods have allowed me to meddle with the natural balance this time, but now it must be allowed to run its course for a time. I foresee a much greater menace to mankind in the future, and I must reserve my power for that. Your labours have laid the foundation for my intervention in that future catastrophe.”
“You will claim your reward from me soon, priestess. Enjoy your life, now, while you can.”
The aura of the Goddess left us, then, with as many questions as answers. We did not expect we would be graced with such a gift again, in either of our lifetimes.
Elspeth was grateful for the grace of her Goddess, and the words She gifted us. I, however, cannot shake the foreboding, not for myself, but for Elspeth. Death was coming for her, and soon. I owed her much. If there was some way I may prevent her suffering, I will.
September 2, 1936
I am a widow.
I have little time to record what happened before I must hide this journal. If the police find it, I will be arrested for murder, even though it was not me who killed Hugh. I suppose I could claim insanity, after my recent holiday at the asylum, but that would do nothing to protect Harriet.
It was she who procured the belladonna. I made the tincture myself, a skill I learned from observing Elspeth at her potions. The Scots used it to create a kind of berserker rage in their warriors, in days of old. My intent was to have Hugh fall into just such a rage. Harriet would flee the room, and have Dr. Peck call the police. My plan was that Hugh would be so enraged as to resist the police, and the result would be a long, trying vacation in jail. I underestimated Hugh’s depravity, and the good doctor’s reaction.
I added the belladonna to a bottle of gin, a drink Hugh adores but I never touch. The brand was one commonly found in Gildavale, but never at Rudderfirth. Harriet had thought of so many of the small details.
Hugh was twitchy when he arrived, but not enough to raise any alarm. It was only after he tossed the first two glasses back, in one swallow each, that I realized he had already doped himself with opium.
Still, he did fly into a rage, as expected, and Harriet raced down the hall, fearing the abuse I would endure until the police came. Dr. Peck did call the police immediately, but then he did something I had not anticipated. The doctor arrived in the drawing room with a pistol in his hand.
Hugh had already hit me twice, by then. I had considered that and judged the risk, and the pain, as acceptable. When he lunged at me for the third punch, Dr. Peck leapt between us and fired his pistol. By the time the police arrived, Hugh Mackenzie was dead! Harriet had already whisked away the gin bottle, and carried it in gloved hands to the cottage. If the Belladonna is discovered, they will find only Hugh’s fingerprints on the bottle.
The police are still with the doctor. I was sufficiently shaken that they’ve allowed me time to gather my wits before they speak to me.
Now I must hide this!
September 15, 1936
Dr. Peck is exonerated and Harriet and I go unsuspected. The police did search the cottage, but they found such a diverse assortment of dope and alcohol, that they felt no need for a deeper inquiry. It is assumed that Hugh Mackenzie, in a drug induced rage, attempted murder, and the doctor’s actions were justified. Father and Mother are happy to see the end of my marriage, though I have no idea how they will receive the news of my pregnancy.
Yes, I am with child, just as the Goddess said. I expect to be delivered of a baby boy near the middle of May, 1937. I have decided to name him Colin, which comes from the Scots for whelp, with a second name Harold, in Harriet’s honour. She has promised to help me raise him to manhood, and we will both endeavor to not hold his paternity against him, though his name will ensure that we never overlook his potential for wickedness.
* * *
Harriet is the most passionate and considerate of lovers. She understands and accepts the need for absolute discretion. The queer may be open, honest, and welcome in many circles, but I would surely be turned out by Father and Mother, were they to discover us. Our love for each other would certainly raise questions about Hugh’s demise, as well, and so we must make love in secrecy, and continue our charade as mistress and maid in public. I can only hope that one day we will be permitted the freedom to express our love openly.
I meant to set down how our love bloomed amidst the pain and bitterness which brought us together, but with all of the chaos, I have not had the leisure to do so.
If the Goddess is truthful, my descendants will read these words, one day. I hope they will not be too shocked and appalled at my frank portrayals, but if I am to live so long, I wish to have these memories preserved against the forgetfulness of old age.
* * *
It was two days after we kissed, before Harriet returned to my arms. She came shivering with hope and fear, in equal measure. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, and could not help but smile, as she stood before me with her head bowed, awaiting my judgement.
“Will you show me how to make love to you, dearheart?” I asked her, and the look of tenderness, when she raised her eyes, nearly brought me to blissful tears.
“I will, Beth.” She whispered. “You will tell me to stop, if you loathe it?”
“I promise, but I have no fear of it.” I assured her. “I want your touch. Make love to me, Harriet.”
She bent down to kiss me, softly at first, and then with more ardour, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw and throat. Her lips trailed after her fingers with almost lazy curiosity, until they reached a spot just behind my ear. He tongue flicked the spot, wrenching a gasp from my mouth. I could feel my pulse quickening as she nipped the skin, and nibbled her way to the nape of my neck. Then her fingers were releasing the buttons from my blouse, her lips brushing over every inch of skin as it was exposed. My breathing was near to panting already, and I did not know what to do with my hands.
With infinite care, she slid my blouse off of my shoulders, gliding her hands to the center of my back. Looking deeply into my eyes, she searched for something, surely finding only yearning there. One hand slipped under the hooks of my brassiere, and the other released them easily. The fabric cups fell away from my breasts, and her hands replaced them. We moaned in unison. As her thumb massaged one taut nipple, her lips found the other. She suckled tenderly, the tip of her tongue lightly swirling around the peak, and the decadence of it rippled through my veins.
I fell back onto the bed, my breast liberating itself from her lips with a soft popping sound. Harriet lay down beside me, one hand snaking around my waist to pull me onto my side, facing her. We kissed again, our tongues fencing playfully with each other. My hands, finally discovering a purpose, shook as I stroked her breasts through the blouse of her uniform. Harriet brushed them aside, just enough to undo the buttons. She stood and leisurely allowed the dress to fall away, showing me that she wore nothing beneath, but a light shift. It followed the dress to the floor, and my beautiful lover stood before me, naked.
I feasted my eyes on her ample bosom and tiny waist, her hips round and full, like her lips, he thighs with skin as porcelain fine as her face and arms. My desire mounted as she ran her hands over her belly, to the apex of her thighs, slid a finger into her sweet-box and withdrew it glistening with honey. I whimpered impatiently.
Harriet came to me, where I was propped up one elbow to watch her, and placed the very tip of her finger on my bottom lip. She did not expect me to capture her finger in my teeth. She gasped, and then moaned as I reached up to caress her perfect breasts, suckling her finger before I moved my eager mouth to one pert nipple.
&nb
sp; I slithered my hands around to her back and pulled her down to lay beside me. Again, our mouths found each other, kissing passionately. Harriet brought her knee up under my slip, pressing against my womanhood through my panties. One hand snaked down under the waistband of both and her fingers stroked my sex, making me cry delight into her mouth. I wasted no time in mimicking her devotions, and soon we were both panting and moaning in erotic delight.
My body was quaking with need when Harriet kissed her way down my belly, until her hot breath bathed my eager cunny. I lost all sense of time and space, all form of reason, while she worshipped me with lips, tongue, fingers, and even teeth. Over and over she brought me to the crest of orgasm, and then backed off, prolonging the climax. Just when I thought I could take no more, or my heart would explode, she unveiled my swollen bud and drew it into her mouth.
I would swear I left my body, so intense was the climax she brought me to! Hugh had never satisfied me so much! Even Ewan, for all his manly skill, did not compare to my sweet Harriet at lovemaking. We spent the entire night at my lessons in lady-love. I was a devoted and adept student.
* * *
We have been lovers since that night. I have never been so happy as I am in Harriet’s arms, making love, or just cuddling and talking. We have sworn a pact to be together always, as wives in body and spirit.
I have told her about Elspeth, and the Goddess. At first she doubted my reason, but I let her read this journal and we have talked long about my other life. So devoted is my dearheart, that she trusts every word as truth, now, without question. She, too, is concerned for Elspeth’s wellbeing. I believe she has taken to watching me sleep at night, for her eyes are lined with worry and exhaustion these past few days. Or perhaps she is concerned about the pregnancy. I will have to ease her mind, and insist on her getting more rest. I cannot have my sweet Harriet taking ill from lack of sleep, after all.
Between The Sheets (A Naughty Box Production Book 1) Page 19