Admittedly it would be beyond heaven to have lovely thighs to wrap around him each night, but it couldn’t be her thighs. He knew he could not trust her motives. A girl in a desperate state, who would likely do anything to secure a future for herself. He wouldn’t put it past her to think he was stupid enough to marry her if she fell with child.
He considered whether he should inform the girl of this, to ensure there were no unrealistic expectations, then again, it was on her head if she engaged in such activities. It wasn’t like he had sought her out, she had come to him. She had to bear the brunt of any unpleasant outcomes. It wasn’t a conversation he particularly wanted to have; he would prefer to act as if the whole thing had never happened. Most importantly, he had to make sure it was not repeated again, because it was a certainty that unpleasantness would result once she realized that he was not going to fall on his knee and offer for her. A smart man, and he considered himself relatively intelligent, did not get themselves into such positions.
He returned home very late that evening, late enough to ensure there was no chance of hysterics from the girl. All signs of the previous evening in his bedroom had been cleared away, and he felt relieved. He couldn’t help his mind wandering back when he lay in bed wishing for sleep. She had perfectly formed breasts, he had moulded them, tasted them and they budded perfectly within his mouth. He tried to dismiss the thought, but they had taken him hostage, body and mind. He refused to give himself relief; he suspected which images would flow into his mind if he did. Eventually fitful sleep took him.
He woke with tension throughout his body. A good ride through Hyde Park would help, he decided, so he dressed and informed Granson of his intentions.
He strode down the hall in purposeful movement, but felt a moment’s hesitation when he was confronted by her form in the vestibule. She was arranging flowers, something that was clearly a woman’s pursuit, but they were typically the purview of the lady of the house. He hoped she did not assume already that she was about to fill that position. He prepared himself for histrionics.
She turned her head and saw him.
“Good Morning, Lord Eldridge,” she said without any inflection or emotion in her voice.
“Morning,” he returned. She picked up the basket and the clippers she had and left without looking at him further. That had gone much easier than he’d expected. He continued out the door and mounted his gray. Perhaps she was wilier than he thought, perhaps this was some ploy. He dismissed it, it didn’t matter. Whatever her intentions were, she wasn’t going to have her way.
He didn’t see her throughout the rest of the day, which only relieved him. Her absence continued, and he dared hope that it was the end of it. If only his mind would retire the issue as well, it cropped up at the most inconvenient times, such as investment meetings. He recognized that perhaps he had let himself run too long without the company of a female. He reminded himself that he should take better care of his needs, so his mind wouldn’t fixate on every encounter he had. It kept slipping into his mind typically when he was exhausted and deflated in the evenings after whichever mind-numbing event he’d attended.
He sat in his study later in the morning, perusing a couple of proposals that had been presented to him by Lord Hariston. They were interesting prospects, but there was risk involved. He needed time to think them through before he made his decision.
He heard the front door open and he looked out his window of his study to see Miss Hessworth’s frame come into view. She had her hair up and was dressed in a green velvet fitted jacket to ward away the chill. A tendril of her hair had fallen out and was bouncing on her shoulder. She looked lovely—not as lovely has she had underneath him a few days back, but lovely the way young women could look—soft and clean. They were creatures of temptation after all.
She looked down both sides of the street before stepping out onto the road and walking briskly out of his sight. He had only gotten a glimpse of her face, but she was bright eyed and rosy cheeked, looking like a girl with an exciting day planned. He wondered where she could be going in the middle of the day—perhaps shopping, he realized. She didn’t seem to purchase much; maybe she was doing something else.
Amelia reached the patisserie where she was meeting Celeste a few minutes early. She had gotten a note that morning suggesting they meet up, and apparently Celeste enjoyed the chocolate served at this particular place. The cakes and pastries looked delicious, small and delicate, making perfect little presents when one went calling.
She didn’t miss calling, she missed the rituals around it a little, but her new found freedom more than made up for it. Previously, she always had to have a specific purpose when leaving the house, with a designated length of time and code of conduct. It didn’t seem like a great liberty, but the impact of it was deceptively substantial, at least in her mind.
“How are you, my dear?” Celeste asked as she appeared next to her. “Shall we go in?”
They seated themselves at a table next to the window. It was a bright, sunny early spring day.
“I wanted to see how you are faring. I hope the evening at my house didn’t scare you off.”
“No, of course not, it was an utterly fascinating evening and I am very grateful that you invited me.”
“And have you given any consideration to my advice?”
Amelia blushed. “Not just consideration,” she said quietly so only they could hear, “I have acted upon it.”
“Oh my dear,” Celeste laughed, “I take it that it went well.”
“It was a bit scary at first,” Amelia conceded, “but there was definitely something interesting there.”
“Yes, there is definitely something interesting there. It can be the greatest pleasure in life. It also gets better with practice,” Celeste said with a smile. “I am so glad you had a good experience. It is a thing where bad experiences can be very damaging. But you heeded my advice to practice interacting with someone you are not deeply attuned to.”
“I did,” Amelia confirmed. “There is absolutely no chance that I will fall in love with him.”
“You know that your options are completely open. Search for the right one for you, or don’t. It is important to know that you are in charge of your own future and happiness. People will take from you freely if you do not guard yourself, and never doubt that you are capable of doing so.
“I know you have been led to believe that you are incapable of taking care of yourself, but that is far from true.”
“I wish dearly that was true, but I am being supported by a man that detests me and I have no other means.”
“That is because you have not found your own feet yet,” Celeste said softly. “It is true that men support us, as they should. It is not acceptable that a society does not support its members; it’s not acceptable that some suffer because the structures of society support some but not others and that includes you. It is true that men support women like me through gifts and acknowledgements—I refuse to feel shame about it. There are other ways as well. I introduced you to my friend Sophia, she supports herself exclusively through her own means in trade and that is a perfectly legitimate way. It is not difficult, but you have to be open to it; the rules of polite society do everything it can to ensure you are dependent on it. It enforces its own conformity.
“I can hear some of my acquaintances talking through me.” Celeste smiled. “Not everyone is satisfied with the current social structures. The point is that the things you have been told are not necessarily true and they are not always in your best interests. I can introduce you to some people that have some firmer beliefs on the issue if you like.”
Amelia laughed—such controversial statements were certainly challenging. She was still trying to fit this new way of thinking into her mind. These ideas reverberated in her head and she reeled from the implications of them. It was liberating to strip some of Society’s constrictions away. It was also incredibly seductive to believe that she could just strip away the shame of
what had happened to her and the fall in standing that she had experienced. It was also nice to be told that it wasn’t a personal failure and it didn’t lessen her as a person.
“Now, there is a little soiree later in the week. It is a little different, a dinner with the more artistic set. They are a strange bunch, and they reject most of the strictures of society, but if you feel ready…”
“Yes,” Amelia said. She thought of the painter she’d met at Celeste’s house, Henry. There was something very intriguing about him, and she did not mind a chance to look upon him again. There was something about him that sent little thrills through her. It felt wicked to think about him, about his rough hands and deep eyes. She couldn’t help wonder what it would feel like to kiss him. Kissing had been a bit of a revelation and heat rose in her face when she thought about the sensations, the sensations an entirely different man had wrought in her. His hands weren’t rough, but they were large and warm, and they had stroked her body like they were worshipping her.
She had trouble reconciling the man that night with the one she knew otherwise—the cold man who sneered and even tormented. How could something so sensual be wrought by such a man, it didn’t make sense. She had been utterly confused about it. Did all men hide such secret beings within them or was there just a distinct duality to Lord Eldridge’s nature?
She’d felt some conflicting emotions the next time she’d seen him. He looked the haughty and unpleasant man she knew, but equally she felt like there was a tie between them, brought on by their communion.
“Do intimacies shared always leave a mark?” Amelia asked Celeste. She hadn’t meant to ask, it’d just came out. Celeste turned her head to the side and regarded her.
“Not always, but they can—powerful ones,” Celeste said. “Love leaves the most powerful.” Amelia wasn’t sure what love was, particularly in the context of men.
“Have you been in love?”
“Yes,” Celeste smiled.
“How do you know it’s love?”
“That is a question for the ages, my dear,” Celeste said. “Sometimes it is so apparent there is no other option, sometimes it’s not; it sneaks up on you and takes you unawares. Then there are the ones that only become apparently once you have lost the person—those are the ones you have to watch out for. Love can be sweet, but it can also be very difficult.”
Amelia wondered if she would ever be so wise, she certainly hoped so. It would be the worst thing she imagined never to know love, which is exactly what would have happened if she had married a man that her father had deemed worthy. She acknowledged that some of the things that Celeste was saying about society and its confines were starting to ring very true to her. Marrying one of the suitors her father approved of would never be a true and authentic life as she had to spend it with someone who she didn’t truly care for. Society did marry off their girls for reasons of comfort, connections and status. Maybe true love outside of society was a much better virtue than a good match within it.
Growing up she had read stories about heroes and heroines that risked all for love. It had been so romantic and she had wished it would be her own story one day. As she got older, she dismissed the childishness of such sentiment as it became clear that was not how real life worked. She would marry well and that would please her father. It was almost painful to let the hope of love flourish in her again.
The day was a little bit sunnier when she walked home. Spring was definitely in the air and Amelia wondered at the pleasure of it as it warmed her face. Somehow, something had changed, she felt the challenges less keenly and an excitement about her future. She had discovered heavenly activities in a man’s bed, and there was the prospect of true love. She still felt a little ridiculous thinking about true love, being a grown woman as she was.
What would she sacrifice for it, she wondered. The last month or so had been a real challenge to her values and how she saw herself. She had discovered that she didn’t perhaps value the things her father did. She hadn’t felt the loss of the potential to reach the very heights of society as much as she’d expected, but there was more fundamental questions about what she valued.
She had always valued kindness and love, but what would she give to achieve it? Would she be happy with more humble comforts? Could she be happy with someone like a humble country church official? What about a clerk, or even an artist who lived on nothing but passion? She wanted to be the person who thought it was worth risking it all for love. Then even if it never happened, she’d know she’d never been held back by fear.
That had always been important to her father, never bowing down to fear. She was pretty sure he never meant it in this context, but it should apply here as it would in any other situation. It wasn’t as if she was gambling her very life, according to Celeste there were ways of supporting oneself. That was liberating to know as well.
No, the future was definitely a little bit brighter. The fact that she had discovered that there was a world of fascination in a man’s bed didn’t hurt either. If spending a night in Lord Eldridge’s bed had been riveting, what would it be like being with a man she loved? She couldn’t wait to find out.
To her complete vexation, Edna insisted that they dine like a ‘family’ again. Nothing Amelia said would dissuade her. Amelia felt uncomfortable invading his dining room, but Edna strongly insisted.
“I see you are joining me for supper again,” he said as she reluctantly followed her aunt into the dining room. Granson seemed to be more prepared this time and quickly provided service for them.
“It would seem so,” Amelia replied feeling embarrassed.
“It is such a lovely evening, it felt a shame to be cooped up in one’s room,” Edna stated. She seemed to be in a good mood and Amelia was glad—she could suffer a bit of embarrassment if it made her aunt happy. She didn’t always have days when she wanted to leave her room; she had days when she was feeling distress and confusion. Amelia hated watching her aunt’s illness worsen, it hurt her heart.
“How was your day, Edward?” Edna asked.
“It was pleasant,” Lord Eldridge replied. Amelia was grateful to him for letting her aunt be, letting her live in the mind-set that gave her comfort.
He returned his attention to the food. She was intensely aware of his presence, like it was emanating a vibration through the space around him. She still had trouble believing she had shared something so intimate with this man; it had seemed so familiar, and he seemed so distant now. But she saw something else too or maybe she just had a different awareness. His movements seemed a little more fluid.
She looked away quickly as his eyes moved to her. She felt ridiculous blushing like a young girl, but she couldn’t help it. Perhaps Celeste was right, she needed more experience so she didn’t fall apart every time a man looked at her.
“And what have been your excursions today?” he asked.
“I went to call on a friend,” Amelia said. Her voice was steady, but she felt a thrill run through her as she met his eyes. The last time she looked him in the eyes, they had been much less formal, with much less clothes. She looked away.
“A friend?” he pressed.
“Yes.” She wasn’t going to volunteer anything further.
“They are useful creatures, friends, aren’t they?”
She wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but his tone of voice suggested that there was some point he wanted to get across. She guessed they were back to that, him barraging her for her loss of position and his requirement to support her.
“Very,” she said returning his stare. “In fact, this friend might be able to help me establish myself.”
“As what?” he asked sharply.
“In trade.”
“Trade!?” he chortled. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Who’s in trade?” Edna interjected. “How unpleasant.”
Amelia stroked the flat side of her silver knife, feeling the cold unyielding metal under her fingers.
“I don’t know, you seem quite able to secure my charity,” he said. She knew full well that he was referring to her visit to his room the other night. She hoped beyond anything that Edna had not understood the underlying meaning of the statement. Amelia looked at her, but she seemed peaceful as she continued eating the portion of trout before her.
She had not considered how her actions would be perceived by him. He obviously thought she had acted to secure his on-going support. She bristled that he called his support charity, and even more that her action would be considered in such a calculated light. It was far from true, but she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to convince him of that. She wasn’t sure she gained anything by trying either, but is smarted being belittled so.
It brought to head an uncomfortable issue, one she had been grappling with for a few weeks, especially since her acquaintance with Celeste. It was an issue that was important with regards to the options she had before her—that related to the exchange of favor for support. It also called into question the value she placed on comfort. A very comfortable existence could be had if she played that game, giving her favor to the gentlemen who would return their affection through expensive gifts.
It wasn’t what she wanted. She would rather work in trade, support herself, and pursue her true goal—finding true love. Even she knew it sounded ridiculous and it would probably have him in stitches if she told him. Somehow she doubted he was a proponent for true love, but love existed, perhaps not the fairy-tale kind, but the kind she had on rare occasions seen between two people—love that was steady, forthright and constant, maybe even sweet.
“That was not my intent,” she finally said. She might not feel that she could explain her motives to him, that she was gathering experience for the express purpose of knowing herself so she could identify a man that would love her.
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