A Seven Year Hitch

by Mary Beeken

  “No, but now you are going to be based around here, I’ll be able to see you so much more. It is great having you home Michael; and Gerald of-course, it will be so much livelier here now that you’re back.” Erica held his hand and squeezed it affectionately.

  “Father told me that you have very much taken over the running of the estate from Great Uncle James.”

  Michael had not been surprised as she had always taken an interest in the estate management and farming. As a child she had been both the delight and the bane of old Mr. Dewsom the estate manager, for she was forever asking him questions and pestering him to take her round with him. Once she had learned to read, she would study the latest innovations and insist on discussing them with him.

  “Yes, he was concerned that he was getting too old and with Gerald away, he decided I would do just as well. I was more than willing to comply; it has given me a purpose and is very interesting.”

  “How are you going to feel about handing the responsibility over to Gerald?” Michael asked.

  “Don’t worry. I have always known that it was only temporary. Gerald will need me for a while to show him the ropes but once he is au fait with everything then I have a mind to buy my own estate; something local hopefully. Your father has already promised to look around for me.”

  “What about marriage; children of your own?”

  “Perhaps in the future,” Erica answered vaguely, “I’m in no rush.”

  “How about you? Is there some young lady about to become Mrs. Michael Stanier?” Erica asked and was surprised to see a slight flush stain his face. “There is isn’t there? Will I like her? Do I know her?”

  “You ask too many questions!” Michael admonished with a laugh.

  “Oh come on, tell me! Please! I won’t tell another living soul I promise!” she pestered.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” Richard kissed her cheek, “Yet! But rest assured, as soon as there is you will be the first to know!”

  As he looked up, his glance locked with that of the Marquis and was taken aback by the anger he saw there.

  “Now I wonder what we’ve done to upset the Marquis.” Michael murmured.

  “Why?” Erica withstood the urge to look at Trevellyn.

  “He looks to be quite annoyed about something, and as he’s looking this way, I assume its us!”

  “It’s probably me,” Erica smiled. “We are at war, you see. He is foolishly of the opinion that he can best me but of-course, it is all nonsense.”

  Putting his arm around her, Michael agreed. “Yes Gerald and I learnt that lesson well enough. Father always said that the man who could get the better of you would be the man you married!”

  Erica’s slight pause went unnoticed. “Then he must know I am destined to be a spinster.”

  “Or that it would take a brave man to win your heart,” he replied.

  Many of the children had by this time, disappeared; leaving the Chinese garden quiet and calm.

  “I think this is my favourite part of the themed gardens,” Erica sighed. “It is so restful”

  They sat in silence for a moment or so, enjoying the unique ambience of their surroundings. The shelter in which they rested was long, rectangular, and enclosed on three sides. The front however; with its wooden railing, was open onto a pond littered with lily pads and filled with large goldfish. It had little alcoves along the back wall in which could be found small benches; all beautifully carved in a Chinese design and painted red, green and gold. Along the roof hung little bells that gently pealed in the breeze and complemented the wind chimes that were dotted around the garden. Halfway along the pond, an ornate bridge also painted in red, green and gold, spanned the water and was guarded each end by mythical dragons carved from stone.

  “Would you like to reacquaint yourself with the other gardens?” Erica asked eventually, aware that she was likely to fall asleep if she remained seated for very much longer.

  They both stood and at Erica’s instigation, sauntered along the shelter towards the exit away from her spouse. Hearing movement behind them Erica quickened her pace but was forestalled by Fiona calling her name.

  “Erica wait! We are not as familiar with these gardens as you are so can we tag along with you?”

  She had no option but to agree and together they ambled along the path and onto the bridge. Fiona, on the pretext of pointing out a fish, pulled on Erica’s arm and detached her from the others.

  “You know I told you Charlotte was in love? Keep your eyes open now and you might see what I’ve seen!”

  When Erica spun round to look at her cousin, she received an elbow in her ribs, courtesy of Fiona who hissed, “Don’t stare, you ninny!”

  “Ouch, that hurt!”

  “Are you alright, Miss Wilmshurst?” Trevellyn, coming up to them at that moment, was concerned to see Erica leaning over and holding her side.

  “Yes My Lord, just a minor case of flying elbow!” she reassured him.

  “Ah” he said, “that can be painful if caught unawares.”

  “Quite so!”

  By mutual agreement the three joined the others and it became apparent to Erica that there was a strong attraction between Charlotte and Michael. On her part, there was a delicate blush to her cheeks whilst his expression gentled whenever he looked at her.

  Erica and Fiona exchanged a speaking look that was intercepted by Trevellyn, whose initial puzzlement was dispersed when Erica, taking pity on him, whispered, “Love birds!” and nodded significantly to where Charlotte and Michael had their heads bent together; oblivious to everything but each other.

  “Alas my courting of the fair Charlotte has not been successful.”

  “Is your heart broken, My Lord?” Erica asked mock concern in her voice.

  “I am happy to report that it is still intact,” Trevellyn answered.

  “Then your feelings were not engaged and we can look around for another potential bride without impunity,” Fiona said decisively.

  “What about Sophie? She is rather young but could be ‘moulded into the perfect Marchioness; prepared to obey you in all things,’ Erica quoted.

  “I am not a cradle snatcher,” Trevellyn vetoed.

  “But surely that was not always the case, was it My Lord,” Erica smiled sweetly up at him. “I heard tell that you were once keen to marry a girl of sixteen and one still in the schoolroom no less!”

  “Is this some scurrilous gossip?” Fiona looked from one to the other. “Oh do tell Erica!”

  “Yes, do tell Erica. I would love to hear!” Trevellyn grinned wickedly at her.

  “There’s little more to add except or so I was told, she was an heiress and you needed her money!” Erica shrugged.

  “Then it cannot be true. You are obscenely rich are you not, Trevellyn?”

  “As you say; obscenely!” he confirmed.

  “Your sources were not reliable, Erica,” Fiona told her.

  “Who were your sources, Erica? Anyone we know?” Trevellyn was not about to let this go. It was too good an opportunity to watch Erica squirm; especially as she had brought it up and must be kicking herself.

  “I could not possibly reveal my sources My Lord, but I have always found them unimpeachable. Perhaps,” she continued, “you were thwarted in your nefarious endeavours and wish the matter forgotten; understandably so.”

  “Why do I get the feeling I am missing something important here?” Fiona liked to know everything and was beginning to feel frustrated with the innuendo passing back and forth between her two companions.

  “Why would Trevellyn want to marry a schoolroom chit for her money when he has enough of his own? It does not make any sense,” she continued.

  “Do you know, I have asked myself the very same question but cannot throw any light on the matter? It is very frustrating,” Erica sighed.

  “Trevellyn I must insist on the truth. Did you once attempt to marry a sixteen year old for her money?” Fiona asked forthrightly.

  Erica raised a
n eyebrow and waited to see how he would dig himself out without uttering a direct lie.

  “I did not attempt to marry a young girl for her money,” he stated concisely.

  Fiona seemed satisfied with his answer and Erica took the opportunity of distracting her by the simple act of pointing out a beautiful butterfly that was resting on a nearby leaf.

  “Nicely averted, My Lord,” Erica mumbled when a few moments later, Charlie claimed Fiona’s attention.

  “I thought so too,” he laughed. “If only she had asked the right question. There was after all no ‘attempt’ about it; I did marry a chit of sixteen, didn’t I?”

  Upon entering a stone tunnel that led to a miniature Hindu temple, complete with a statue of Ganesha; the Elephant headed God, Trevellyn took the opportunity of catching hold of Erica’s hand and gently pulling her away from the others. The tunnel had several exits leading to different gardens within the themed area and by dint of climbing a few steps, they found themselves exiting from an Egyptian tomb flanked by two sphinxes and topiary pyramids.

  “Your ancestor certainly had imagination did he not, to come up with all of this?” Trevellyn swept his arm to encompass their surroundings.

  “Yes. It was my Great Grandfather who I’m told, travelled extensively in his younger days and wanted to recreate some of the wonders here at Monksleigh. He was quite an artist and created many sketches as he journeyed around the globe. We still have them actually. I’d be more than glad to show you, if you’re interested.”

  “Yes, that would be great.”

  “Of-course, the simple thing would have been to section off each garden with hedges but Great Grandfather believed that would be too ordinary and detract from the unusual and beautiful scheme he had planned. That’s when he hit upon the idea of using rocks and suchlike to create tunnels and passageways to interconnect the different zones. If we climb these steps over here we will come to the quintessential English garden, complete with a cottage, but upon entering it you will find yourself back in a passageway leading to the root garden. There are also stepping stones to be navigated and exciting winding paths with uneven steps to be traversed. Adults and children alike delight in it, as you can imagine.”

  Erica enthused and, temporarily forgetting their wager and battle of wills, she took great pleasure in showing him the horticultural delights.

  “The root garden sounds interesting,” Trevellyn said.

  “A small path takes you up and around and on either side are exposed roots, all twisting and gnarled into the most interesting patterns. We spent hours as children, spotting different shapes in them and if you look carefully you can make out a pig and a troll’s face, among other things.”

  “Come and see,” she said, taking his hand and leading the way through the English garden and into the cottage.

  “When I was very little, Gerald told me the troll was real and would eat me if it caught me. I was too scared to come here for a while until Uncle Richard showed me it wasn’t real after all.”

  “How did he manage to prove to you that it wasn’t real?”

  Erica laughed as she recalled. “He punched it on the nose and told me that no self respecting Troll would have allowed such cavalier treatment without retaliating!”

  The afternoon passed very quickly for Erica who was enjoying showing the gardens to Trevellyn and sharing childhood anecdotes with him. Whenever they came across any of the other family members, he would release her hand but would always reclaim it as soon as they were alone again. Erica deemed not to notice but on the one occasion when he didn’t take it, she subconsciously reached for his. He refrained from commenting, not wanting her to become self-conscious and break the physical contact, but he inwardly smiled at the small but distinct indication that her defences were beginning to crumble.

  “We just have time to view the monastery before we need to gather the stragglers and return for tea.” Erica said.

  She led him along a tree-lined avenue to where a huge stone urn inlaid with bronze, marked the end of the themed area. It was surrounded by benches and high hedges and at first Trevellyn believed they had wondered into a dead end. Erica watched him as his gaze swept around and waited, a smile playing around her mouth.

  “Can you not see it?” she asked.

  She then led him towards a bench near to the rear of the urn and as they approached he noticed a cleverly concealed exit.

  “Great Grandfather did not wish the visual affect of this circular area disrupted and therefore designed it so that the exit is only discernable when you are almost upon it.” Erica explained. “It also protects the monastery; preserves it in its isolated splendour. When we pass along these high hedges and come out in the old grounds you will see what I mean. You can see no trace of the house, formal gardens or the themed area. You could almost imagine you were a million miles from anywhere.”

  An overwhelming sense of peace and tranquillity was the first thing that assailed Trevellyn’s senses as he emerged from the high-hedged passageway and he could not help but comment on it.

  “It is so wonderfully peaceful here, amazingly so considering the rather violent end it must have suffered at the hands of King Henry’s henchmen.”

  “Yes, although that was but a moment in time was it not, compared to its long history. It could not possibly obliterate the hundreds of years of prayer and tranquil living that preceded it. If you half close your eyes, you can almost see the monks drifting around the walls; completing their daily chores.”

  “I’ve married a romantic!” Trevellyn muttered, and looked at Erica with such tenderness that it took her breath away. They had wondered into what remained of the Refectory building and now stood facing each other; content and at ease.

  “You sound surprised,” she answered though her voice was barely audible.

  “No, not really,” he murmured against her full lips before he pressed a gentle kiss upon them that had Erica tingling all the way to her toes.

  She leaned into him and kissed him back, a little shy at first, as this was their first real kiss, devoid of demands or a desire to overpower and command.

  Her hands stole up his chest, and clasped each other behind his neck at the same time as his became entangled in her thick chestnut hair. The kiss remained gentle; explorative until Trevellyn broke away to press kisses onto her eyelids, face and neck. When he returned to her mouth, passion flared between them and the kiss deepened.

  Trevellyn backed her up against the wall and pressed his length against her. She could feel his arousal hard against her stomach and an answering pool of desire growing at the juncture of her thighs. She pushed against him, trying to ease the ache and he responded by parting her legs with his thigh and rubbing it against her intimately. She moaned and sucked on his tongue, entwining her own with it, glad of the support of the wall for her legs were trembling so much; she doubted they could hold her. His hand stole down and cupped her breast, weighing it, kneading it before his thumb caressed her nipple through the thin cambric of her dress. Erica gasped at the sheer pleasure his touch evinced and watched, mesmerized as he bowed his head and took the tight bud into his mouth; his tongue continuing where his thumb had left off.

  Erica was very close to begging him to take her there and then when the unmistakeable sound of talking reached them. Trevellyn cursed under his breath, damning all relatives to hell before swiftly pulling Erica along to a shadowed doorway; away from the direction of the voices. The clouds of passion that had fogged her mind were by now beginning to dissipate and Erica, intensely aware that they were in danger of being caught, grabbed his arm and whispered urgently, “This way, keep low!”

  Stealthily they made their way around the ruins until they were some distance from her cousins.

  “It’s Fiona and the others. She will be unbearable if she finds us here.”

  Trevellyn was taking the opportunity to straighten his clothes but glancing at Erica who, not only had dishevelled clothing but who also gave every appearan
ce of having been thoroughly kissed, accepted that they needed to escape for a good ten minutes to allow her swollen lips to recover. Placing his lips very close to her ear he whispered, “We’ll make our way back to the hidden entrance and act like we’ve just arrived.”

  She nodded and together they furtively made their escape; Trevellyn offering up thanks for the experience he’d gained from escaping tight spots during his spying days in France.

  “Here Erica, let me help you!” Trevellyn nimbly ran his fingers through her long tresses, coaxing them into some sort of acceptable order. He gritted his teeth and thought of cold baths as the feel of it reawakened his passion.

  “You are rather free with my name all of a sudden, My Lord,” Erica said trying to revert to their former relationship of combatants in a wager war.

  Trevellyn merely looked at her before saying, “I feel we can dispense with formality, at least in private. No more of this My Lording Erica, I wish to hear you say my name.”

  “Trevellyn it is then, My Lord!” she teased.

  “Erica! That, as you very well know is my title. I want you to call me Ross.”

  When she looked liked refusing, he drew close to her and huskily said,

  “Actually no. The first time I want to hear you say Ross is when I am buried deep inside you. It will fall like honey from your lips.”

  “Not going to happen…Ross, but feel free to dream,” she replied briskly although she could not resist starring at his lips as she spoke. Her own lips went dry and she found herself licking them, the tip of her tongue sliding erotically from one side to the other.

  “Erica,” Ross spoke firmly, “If you carry on doing that, I will take you here and now and on that bench!”

  “I’m not doing anything!” she answered crossly. “Come on, we’d better go and meet the others. They are going to be suspicious enough at our disappearance all afternoon without delaying any further.” And so saying, she stomped off into the concealed passage.

  Ross smiled and hung back a little while before following in her wake. The depth of the passion that had overtaken them had shaken him, and he was somewhat relieved that the interruption had occurred when it did and not a few moments later. Besides which, he wanted their first coupling to take place in a luxurious bed when time and interruptions were not factors that needed to be considered. Afterwards he acknowledged with a grin, he would delight in taking her in many different surroundings and positions. The themed gardens certainly had plenty of potential.