by Anne Brear
‘Then we are both damned together. Perhaps this Devil fellow isn’t so bad after all?’ He bent and nibbled her nipple.
Isabelle spluttered. Her laughter rose and echoed through the wood. Ethan hugged her tight and rolled onto his back so that she lay on top of him. He released her hair from its pins and it cascaded down, imprisoning their faces like a veil. Her laughter died as his eyes darkened with yearning.
‘Let me love you, Isabelle, for the rest of my life.’
She kissed him gently, reverently. ‘I will, my heart.’
He rolled back over, pinning her beneath him. His kisses deepened, urging her on to a new level of awareness. Arching up to him, she dug her nails into his back. ‘Love me, Ethan.’
‘Always,’ he murmured. Using his knee, he gently opened her legs. Taking his weight on his hands, he paused a fraction before carefully entering her.
Isabelle bit her lip as he filled her and she moved slightly to adjust to him. Closing her eyes, she let out a pent up breath. It felt like her heart had stopped beating. Every ounce of her was centred on this one moment. Ethan kissed her, whispered something she didn’t hear. He withdrew a little and then slowly slid back into her, as he did so he lifted her hips up to meet him and she was shot with a sensation so startling her eyes flew open.
He smiled and kissed her again. ‘Take the ride with me, sweetheart.’
Chapter Ten
Whistling, Ethan jogged down the staircase, fit to burst with happiness. The thick walls of the house kept out the hot August sunshine, but the day’s brightness penetrated through the windows, beckoning him. As always Isabelle came to mind and his stomach knotted with anticipation. Soon, she would be in his arms, kissing him with a passion that empowered him. He had an insane urge to sing.
Elizabeth stepped out from the drawing room, glanced up and smiled. ‘Why darling, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy.’
‘It has been a brilliant summer, Mama.’
She laughed. ‘Indeed it has, though I have hardly seen you these last few months.’
Ethan grinned and jumped from the third last tread. In one fluid movement, he swept his mother into his arms and waltzed her around the hall.
She squealed like a young girl. ‘What are you doing, you silly boy!’
‘I’m dancing with a beautiful woman,’ Ethan declared, spinning her faster.
‘Stop it at once.’ Elizabeth giggled. ‘What has come over you?’
‘Love!’
Elizabeth halted, her smile slipped a little. ‘Love?’ She stepped back and patted her hair into place. ‘Have you bought a new horse?’
He laughed. ‘No, not a horse, Mama. A woman.’
All colour left his mother’s face. ‘A woman? What can you possibly mean?’
He closed his eyes and shook his head, inwardly groaning. Damn! He straightened his jacket. ‘It was stupid of me to mention it just yet.’
Elizabeth walked back into the drawing room, waited for him to join her and then closed the door. ‘Explain yourself.’
Ethan pushed his hands into his trouser pockets and shrugged. ‘It’s rather simple really. I have fallen in love with a wonderful woman who loves me in return.’
‘You are married.’ Her tone turned to ice. ‘Or had that escaped your mind?’
He snorted. ‘It is forever on my mind, as it stops me from being with Isabelle.’
‘Isabelle.’ Elizabeth sat on the edge of the sofa, her back straight, her face impassive. ‘Do I know her?’
‘No.’
‘I…I suppose it is natural for a man to have a…mistress when his own wife-’
‘Isabelle will be my wife!’
Elizabeth blinked. ‘Wife? What nonsense. How is that possible?’
‘I am soon to leave for York where I shall be petitioning for a divorce and if I get no satisfaction there, I’ll go on to London.’
His mother shot to her feet. ‘Divorce?’
Ethan turned away and walked to the empty fireplace. A delicate and colourful Chinese screen stood upon the hearth. ‘I cannot remain married to Clarice any longer. I wish her no harm but do not love her. I never did. I’m sorry.’
‘But you married her!’
He spun to face her. ‘Yes, for Father, for the estate, for the money, but never for me.’ His heart pounded as memories of that time resurfaced. ‘I never wanted her for me. It was a duty. My duty as a son and heir. Father was dying, he made me promise to marry her so that we could have her properties and strengthen our land holdings. You know we needed her wealth and she needed a home since her mother wanted rid of her so she could remarry and move away.’
‘Clarice has done nothing to give you reason to divorce her.’
‘I have grounds, or if not, I’ll get her to divorce me. She has grounds now.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘She is not a true wife to me, never really was. Clarice wanted a comfortable home and to be free from her mother’s tyranny. She doesn’t want to be a wife, a mother or mistress of this house. You know that as well as I do. We’ve both known it for years.’
‘That doesn’t make it right.’ Elizabeth sat back down and Ethan noticed how her hands shook.
He didn’t want this argument with her. Upsetting his mother was the last thing he sought. ‘Try and understand, Mama. I’m tired of living my life without a woman beside me who I love. I’ve finally discovered what I’ve been missing.’ He sat beside her and took her hands in his. ‘I want children. I want to be loved and, sadly, Clarice cannot fill those needs.’
‘But divorce? Do you wish to have scandal attached to our good name?’
‘It’s a sacrifice I am willing to suffer.’
‘Will this Isabelle suffer it too?’
A wry smile escaped him. ‘She has no choice either, since she must divorce her husband to be with me.’
Elizabeth launched to her feet once more, staring at him as though he had turned mad. ‘She is married too?’
He nodded and ran his fingers through his hair. This wasn’t going well. ‘Mama-’
A knock interrupted them and the footman stuck his head around the door jamb.
‘We do not wish to be disturbed!’ Elizabeth snapped.
‘I’m sorry, Madam, but your seamstress has been waiting in the parlour for some time. Shall I send her away?’
‘No.’ Ethan took advantage of the escape. ‘My mother will be with her shortly.’ He turned and kissed his mother’s soft cheek and left the room.
Elizabeth tapped her foot and nibbled her fingernail. She looked at the waiting footman. ‘Tell Mrs Goodman that I shall be ten minutes more. Send in a tray of tea and cakes for her.’ She swept from the drawing room and up the staircase. A slow anger simmered in her chest.
She burst into Clarice’s bedroom, startling the woman where she lay on her bed still in her nightwear. ‘I must talk with you, Clarice.’
Her daughter-in-law blinked like a mindless ninny, a chocolate seashell half way to her mouth.
She hadn’t been in the room for a long time. Clarice had occupied the room from the very first day of marriage, surprising them all by asking to have a room to herself. Ethan had readily agreed. Elizabeth glanced around the bedroom. An assortment of sweets and chocolate boxes littered the bed. Clothes hung haphazardly, magazines stacked in piles by the bed, books lay where they had fallen. Distaste curled in her stomach and fed her frustration. ‘Do you allow the maids to clean in here?’
Clarice stared and popped the whole chocolate into her mouth.
‘Good gracious me!’ Elizabeth paced the room before stopping at the end of the bed. ‘Now listen to me carefully, Clarice. Do you like your life here?’
Clarice paled. She clutched a sweet box to her ample chest. Her double chin wobbled as she nodded.
Elizabeth looked down at the girl-woman and suppressed a shudder. Clarice’s dark hair shone in a greasy unwashed way. Over the summer she had kept nearly entirely to her room and Elizabeth felt guilty for enjoying the freedo
m of not having her in sight for days on end, but that absence only now increased her awareness of Clarice’s size. She seemed to have doubled her enormous weight. ‘Something has happened and together we must prevent it disrupting our lives further. Ethan wants to divorce you.’
Clarice’s eyes widened but she remained mute.
‘Now, he will have grounds to do this because you refuse to be a proper wife to him. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you wish to be a wife in every sense to him?’
‘No.’
Elizabeth sighed. ‘Come, come, Clarice. Look around you, look at how well you live. You have every comfort. Do you want to lose that? If you simply cut down your weight and become more involved in Ethan’s life, give him a child or two, then you can continue to live here with your sweets.’
Clarice straightened slowly, spilling boiled sweets onto the bed. ‘I…I cannot talk to Ethan.’
‘You must! Do you want to be living somewhere else with no comforts? As a divorced woman your life will be over, you’ll have nothing and no one.’ Elizabeth took a deep breath to calm down. ‘We must work together to see this doesn’t happen. Yes?’
‘Very well.’
‘Good.’ Elizabeth relaxed. ‘All I want is his happiness and bringing divorce into this house will not grant him that.’
***
Isabelle squeezed the cloth over the bucket and shook the water from it before scrubbing the floor once more. Her sore knees reminded her that she had declined Ethan’s offer to hire a maid to help with the chores. She smiled as his face swam into focus, her swirling movements dwindling until she knelt back on her heels, the cleaning forgotten. Her body responded to memories of his touch, his kisses, his loving that sent her reaching for the stars and beyond. What a summer it had been. Lazy days together, snatched afternoons, and secret meetings in the wood had controlled her every thought for months.
The weather had remained fine for weeks, showering them with a golden haze of brilliance as they lay beneath tree canopies, loving one another. They wove a magical aura around each other. Ethan brought out such fire in her, that at times she was frightened by its intensity. How had she lived without him in her life until now? In his presence, she laughed, talked, learnt and loved so much. Surrounded by his worship, she felt immortal, beyond life. He was her first thought in the morning and the last one at night. She ached for his touch and listened for his voice. All was good in her world while ever he loved her.
‘Belle, we’re off now.’
Isabelle jumped at Hughie’s voice. He stood in the doorway, knowing that to tread on her clean floor would earn him a clout around the ear. She rose from her position, throwing the cloth back into the bucket. ‘Are Father and Bertie going with you?’
‘Yes. Will you be all right alone?’
‘Of course.’ She picked her way over the floor, trying to find the dry patches. From the table she took a list and a small pouch of money given to her from Ethan. ‘Now remember, I need everything on this list. The clothes I ordered are from Mrs Bottomley in Bridge Gate. I’ve already paid her, so just collect the package.’
‘What clothes are they?’
‘Two new dresses for me and a flannel shirt each for you, Bertie and Father.’ Isabelle double-checked the list. ‘Your new boots need to be picked up from Mr Jackson in Market Street. You need to pay him the last instalment of two shillings.’
Hughie looked over her shoulder at the list. ‘Did you write wool on your list? I need to knit some socks for winter.’
‘Yes I have. Father wants to knit a vest for Bertie.’
Hughie leant against the doorjamb. ‘It’s good to have a little bit of money, isn’t it?’
Isabelle glared at him. ‘Now listen, Mr Harrington is simply loaning it to me until-’
‘I know, you told me.’ He raised his hands to ward off her verbal attack. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it.’
‘Then don’t mention it.’
Hughie frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Because it’s… unseemly.’ She gave him the list and shooed him out the door. ‘Don’t forget to buy more twine for the jars. I want to start pickling and preserving this week.’ She stood on the backdoor step and waved to Bertie, who sat up in the cart beside their father. ‘Keep safe and return before dark.’
She watched as her father steered the old horse around the yard and they trundled down the side of the house and out of sight. Returning to the kitchen, she grimaced at the bucket and shrugged. ‘Well, it’s clean enough for one day.’ She emptied the bucket out onto the herbs growing by the door. Looking up at the sky, she bit her lip. Grey clouds loomed and the cool breeze warned that summer had nearly run its course.
From the scullery door, she grabbed her shawl and whipped it around her shoulders. She’d spent the morning inside cleaning and needed the fresh air. There was to be no meeting in the woods today, as Ethan informed her of his trip to Halifax for business.
Geese and chickens, scattered around the yard, took no notice of her as she walked towards the sheds. The breeze brought her the squeals of the new piglets delivered last week. Hughie was as proud of them as if he’d fathered them himself. Whereas, Bertie enjoyed Mayflower’s presence better, which was surprising considering his smallness against her large size. When he milked, which he did with ease, he wore a dreamy expression and he always managed to get more milk from Mayflower than anyone else.
Isabelle lifted the gate latch and wandered through into the field. Two poddy calves, bought from the sale of the old heifers, joined Mayflower. Hopefully, the calves would be good milkers in the future.
The future.
She tried to shy away from the thought, like she did most times whenever her mind strayed beyond the present. What would the future bring her? Her husband? Ethan’s divorce? Her divorce? How long would it be before they were both free? Throughout the last few months, she had ignored the possibilities of what was to happen and lived day-to-day. She could see no possible way as to how they would be together, but it didn’t stop her from dreaming about it, hoping for it. Who knew when Farrell would re-appear? Even then, could she divorce him? She had no notion in regards to ending a marriage.
She sighed deeply and found that she had walked to the edge of the field without realising. She climbed over the stile. On the other side, the wood looked cold and unwelcoming today without the sun and Ethan to warm her. Depressing thoughts of living the rest of her life as she did now haunted her. She was an abandoned wife and a mistress. Never did she think her fate would be this.
Despite that Ethan wouldn’t be there to greet her, she slipped into the wood. It was so familiar to her now that it seemed an extension of her own land.
‘What a lovely day for a walk.’
Isabelle nearly jumped out of her skin at the bodiless voice. She spun wildly, searching the dappled shade for whoever spoke. ‘Who’s there?’
‘Your past.’
Twirling, seeking, Isabelle’s heart thudded. Her hand touched a tree trunk, its rough surface a solid base to ground her. She took a steadying breath and leant back against the tree. Angry at being made to look a fool, she squashed her fear and found her courage. ‘Aren’t you brave enough to show your face then?’
From behind a large tree, some twenty feet away, Neville Peacock slid out.
She gasped. A shiver of dread ran down her spine.
‘Isabelle Gibson.’ A sly grin further distorted Neville’s ugliness.
‘Why are you here?’
He smirked and walked slowly in an arc through the trees, one second visible, the next hidden as though playing a hide-and-seek game. ‘Have you missed me?’
Her terror fed the fury blazing in her chest. ‘Missed your games? Missed your vile advances?’ She laughed, but quickly stopped when his face twisted in rage.
‘You enjoy your squire’s advances though, don’t you? I hear your laughter. I watch you play with him. Even when you are both talking seriously, I still se
e what you feel for him.’
Isabelle closed her eyes for a moment and died a quiet death.
Neville leant against a tree and crossed his feet, portraying a man at ease. He plucked a leaf and carefully tore it into strips. ‘What a life you lead, dear Belle. A wife to no one and a mistress to a man you can’t have. You used to be so virginal, so pure. I remember how your lip used to curl in revulsion whenever you looked my way. It still does. Yet now, you are so free with your favours, you don’t even hide the deed.’
Her breathing stopped. ‘What do you want?’
‘A little of what he has sampled.’
‘Never!’
‘You have no say in it.’ The last shred of leaf dropped to the forest floor. Neville crossed his arms and pierced her with his evil stare. ‘So, your long lost father has returned then? Bringing with him a bastard?’
Her eyes widened. ‘How do you know about them?’
‘I know everything about you, Belle. I know how many pies you sold at your last market. They are good too, actually. I know you’re hated by some of the stall women. I know you’ve been abandoned by your husband, stupid swine that he is. You would have been better off marrying me.’ He paused, waiting for her response, but when none was forthcoming, he continued listing off his fingers what he knew. ‘Your father and his bastard have returned. Your washing day is Monday. You beat the rugs on Tuesdays. On Wednesdays you work in the garden, and the changes you’ve made are very good by the way.’ He grinned. ‘You spend every Sunday after church in the wood with Harrington and the odd times you can slip out and meet him.’
‘Stop!’ She covered her ears with her hands. Her stomach churned. He knew so much, too much. A fine sweat broke out on her forehead, despite the coolness of the wood. ‘How long have you been watching me?’
He twitched one shoulder. ‘Long enough.’
Isabelle shuddered, remembering the incident in the market when she thought she was being watched. ‘What do you plan to do now?’
‘I haven’t decided just yet.’ From his pocket he pulled out a small sharp knife and scored into the bark. ‘It eats away inside of me, seeing you and him together. Watching his hands touch you, having him fill you. Do you carry his child yet?’