by B L Bierley
“Are you sure it’s not me you’re referring to? Cause I told you I really didn’t do anything except kiss Maude Phillips!”
“Lettie Bradshaw is your intended, I already told you that,” Bliss said dismissively.
Lem mumbled, “Yeah, but I still don’t like it.”
“Do you doubt me, Lem? May I remind you that I have an excellent track record where you are concerned! Don’t I always tell you which houseguest to choose when stabling their mounts to get you the best tips? Am I not always able to help you foresee when the stable master is in his worst temper so you can avoid him? And do I not always give you the best advice for the fishing contest each year?” Bliss said with a knowing look. Lem took his time responding.
“Ah, you know you do! Why do you worry, Bliss? I trust your judgment better than I trust even my Mum and Dad! I always have. But that doesn’t mean I have to agree to love the outcome every time!” he whined.
“Well we’ve been friends since we were little, so I think you could appreciate that I am sincere when I tell you how happy you will be with your future if you continue to trust me!”
It was the honest truth. Lem literally grew up under the same watchful eye of the nannies who nurtured Bliss and her two elder siblings. He was her mother’s ladies’ maid’s youngest son. And since the ladies’ maid was married to her father’s valet, Lem was practically family. She and Lem had always been a pair of peas in a pod, playing together with an unspoken trust from their earliest days together.
Though he was two years older, Lem was still her closest confidant. But Bliss harbored no romantic feelings for him or his older brother Cyril, who was already the stable master’s third man in the order of seniority due to his gift with handling even the most difficult mounts.
Lem was destined for larger fortunes and futures. He was a brilliant writer, and Bliss knew, beyond a doubt, that her friend would leave soon for a glorious opportunity to attend a prestigious school that had accepted him based on Lord Penwood’s recommendation and assurances. Not before he cemented his future back at Penwood Manor Estate, of course.
Lettie Bradshaw, another of the employees’ children, was destined to be Lem’s bride. According to Bliss, a happier couple was not to be seen if her visions were true as usual. But that was because, for Lem, there would never be any girl for him except Lettie.
He only bucked the idea because Lettie presented in a prudish, plain package to the naked eye. But the curious nectar Lettie hid so well at present would be her friend’s ultimate undoing in the end.
Lem studied Bliss for a few minutes while neither of them spoke. At length he gave a huge sigh.
“Well?” Bliss asked impatient for his decision.
“What difference does it make? You likely already know what you should do.”
“Say it, Lem,” Bliss encouraged him. Lem realized his answer was superfluous. Once his decision was made, her quick peek at the future told her everything. She’d become much more adept at reading the visions as she’d matured. With certain people, Lem included, the visions were like watching the scenes through a window.
“I think that if you can’t stop him from making the decision, you should at least make sure he makes the decision that best suits your future happiness. You know you’re gonna be stuck with the bloke for certain, right? That part never changes?”
“No, I’m his wife no matter how badly he strays. Apparently I will fall deeply in love with him someday,” Bliss added dryly.
“Well, if I was you, I’d make sure he chose the best possible path given his options. You deserve a fellow who’ll treat you like a princess! And even a duke wouldn’t be able to give you that if he succumbed to some crusty wasting disease! So make sure he has the information to make a good choice,” Lem said firmly.
“That’s what I’m hoping I can do. Thank you Lem,” Bliss said resignedly.
Without further ado, she turned and pointed her finger toward a section of the slough just to the south of where they currently floated. Lem raised his pole and whipped his line into the shallower waters. The minute his baited hook hit the water, a large fish took a snap at the lure.
Lem set his hook and began pulling ferociously at the line. Bliss reached back and got the dipping net and helped Lem land the largest fish of the day.
“You are an amazing gal, Blissy! Do you know that? Are you sure it’s not me you’re speaking about for your future beau?” Lem asked cheekily, leaning over to plant a peck on her jaw. He removed the hook from the fish’s mouth and placed him carefully in the catch bucket. Afterward Lem wiped his hands on his trouser legs. As expected, Bliss reminded him of his destiny.
“It’s still Lettie Bradshaw,” Bliss replied airily.
Lem made a sound of mock disgust and shook his head wearily. He baited his hook once more and flicked the line overhead until it landed very near where he’d caught the fish moments earlier.
“Lettie’s a lovely girl,” Bliss countered in genuine frustration at his continued refusal to agree with her.
“She’s a goody—goody. She never does anything but mind her mama’s rules. She tattles on anyone who even looks like they’re gonna get out of line. Why on earth would I ever want a stiff stick like her?” Lem tugged the line and made a sour face of distaste. Bliss took him off guard with her next statement.
“Lettie is a multilayered cake, Lem.”
“A what?”
“A multilayered cake. There are many things beneath the frosting that you can’t yet see. That’s because you’re not ready to look. But neither is she ready to show you yet, so it’s just as well.
“Trust me, Lem. Just because the frosting doesn’t appeal to you, does not mean the cake isn’t the sweetest underneath! And believe me when I tell you, that is the only cake you will ever want once you’ve had a nibble,” she teased.
“Are you implying that Lettie Bradshaw is willing, at some point in the future, to let me sample her hidden layers? Can’t you at least give me a hint as to when the cake will be ready?” Lem’s eyes took on a new sparkle as he arched a brow in wicked intent.
Bliss rolled her eyes. She began pulling on the line, which she often did to reposition his lie in the water. But her efforts this time were taking the line all the way in. Her tone grew more heated as she coiled the line beneath their feet on the floor of the fishing skiff.
“You are such a boy! I’m not telling you anything other than what I already have. If I did, it wouldn’t make the end result go nearly as smoothly as it will if you keep to the path I’ve indicated. I have given you enough information for you not to completely shun the opportunity when it eventually presents itself,” Bliss finished her statement and task by tipping her chin so that her nose was up, her air of superiority firmly in place.
“Fine, but I’m almost sixteen! Cyril had already tupped at least one gal by this age! I’m ready to know a woman that way, don’t you know?” Lem complained.
“You will. Remember, patience is a virtue,” Bliss told him with a small amount of compassion.
“Yeah, but patience won’t ease the pain of not getting to …”
“Anyway, I’ve got to go back to the house. You aren’t going to catch any more fish today, so row us back to shore,” Bliss told him firmly.
“I think you just say that when you’re done fishing. I bet if I stayed I’d catch at least a couple more in the sweet spots,” Lem grumbled as he wrapped his line around the end of his pole and secured the hook.
In her room, Bliss wrote her first official letter to Eric Benchley. She could bribe Lem easily into the task of posting her letters for her by giving him tips to hurry his courtship with Lettie along. There really wasn’t any reason why the two hadn’t already become more intimately acquainted anyway.
Aside from Lem’s reluctance to trust her that Lettie was the right girl, there really wasn’t any reason her handsome young friend couldn’t already be getting a liberty now and then if he put forth the slightest effort. Lettie’s sournes
s was just frustration projecting into her mood. Once she knew someone was interested in her, the rest of it would dissolve into eager confidence.
Bliss considered her task at hand. Knowing that too much information to someone like Eric, someone who still doubted her ability, would likely cause the effort to have a negative effect, Bliss searched her memories of the visions to come up with the right detail to give him.
It had to be something little and hardly significant to the casual observer, but important enough not to be ignored. The visions didn’t let her down. Bliss tried to keep her emotions neutral as she wrote in order to protect the outcome she desired.
When she finished writing, she re-read her efforts carefully and decided that since the visions hadn’t altered, a lot still depended on how Eric received the message and its hidden warnings. She sealed the wax and put the letter in her box until morning.
The next day was Bliss and Merryann’s usual riding day. Having hidden the letter conveniently in her riding boot, she summoned Lem over on the pretense of needing to have him adjust her stirrup.
Taking the letter in her palm, she tucked it under his vest while whispering, “If you post this letter for me, and keep it a secret, I’ll tell you what to do to get a healthy amount of gratitude from Lettie.”
Lem whispered back, “What sort of gratitude are we talking about?”
“At least one kiss,” she replied, leaving her tone to imply that a kiss was the minimum he could expect from the situation. Lem nodded and tugged the stirrup firmly a few times to mask her information.
In a low voice, Bliss informed Lem that Lettie would be hanging out the washing for her mother later. She also pointed out that Lettie was terrified of bees and that several would come along, tempted by the smell of the lilac water rinse.
Bliss whispered as she leaned down pretending to adjust her boot’s position in the stirrup.
“Use the red table runner to wave the bees off. And be prepared to ask her if she suffered any bites or stings in the process. She’ll let you check because she’ll be preoccupied with the possibility of more bees.
“While you’re checking, you should lean in very close! And make sure you don’t eat anything offensive at lunch. Have something sweet— a piece of summer fruit or a cookie just before you go. And if you’re later than noon, you’ll miss the opportunity. So don’t forget,” Bliss added gravely.
“I’ll eat nothing but fresh peaches until then, and I’ll hover near the lines from eleven-forty-five until twelve-fifteen!” Lem said with a waggling brow.
Bliss gave him a nod of acknowledgment while whispering her reminder about the letter. She patted his shoulder and offered him a hand with the post amount, tucked between her middle and ring fingers. Lem took the coin surreptitiously and tugged the brim of his cap to signal the exchange before Bliss clicked her tongue and nudged the horse’s flank with her heel.
Chapter Five
Eric, age eighteen, London, October 1803
The thing Eric never expected about being away from his childhood home was how much he would miss the normal occurrences. After being accepted to St. Thomas’s College of Medicine, he dove into his studies with enthusiasm.
But after nearly a month away from Cardiff, he found himself wishing to be home more than at school. This was unusual given the opportunities his studies offered. Eric showed greater skill and nerve than most students.
Eric was a talented student who never lacked praise by his teachers, but it didn’t combat the loneliness. It wasn’t until the morning after a terrific storm that his time at school became somehow more bearable.
All during the previous night the thundering rain had pounded on the building housing the first year students. Instead of being bothered by the noise of the weather, Eric slept through it all. While he slept, he dreamt of a woman.
Surprisingly beautiful, the woman featured in his dream did nothing more exciting than look over at him from the corner of a room. It appeared that she was seeking his medical advice, her attire simply a chemise and stockings, but the intoxicating arousal he felt while dreaming of her carried over into his waking hours.
Eric was one of the many boys at St. Thomas’s who had grown up more scholarly than socially. As a result he’d yet to be able to meet women or know what to say to them exactly. Many of his friends had taken the advice of their upper classmates or even their fathers and gone to seek the pleasures of a brothel. But being tight with his funds, Eric could never bring himself to do that yet.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t have women to choose from. But matrimony was far from his mind, and he wasn’t so confident in his abilities or knowledge that he would dare propose anything headier than kissing with a woman he’d just met. Being a handsome young medical scholar was a pretty good lure for willing women, but his shyness and uncertainty somehow held him back.
But in his dreams, the opposite was true. He was very skilled with the woman there. And she was no less clever with the art of bringing him pleasure either. And the weird part was how familiar it all seemed.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew the woman. Her golden hair shimmered in his dreamy memory. The curls dancing across the border of her lace-edged undergarment made him long to pluck up the longest strand and bring it to his cheek. Even the smell of her, hints of lavender and mint, permeated his subconscious.
The dreary morning didn’t detract from his state either. He always woke aroused and wanting. Contrarily anything he did to alleviate the symptoms seemed only to enhance his desires.
On this particular morning, Eric woke early and relieved his ache before he sought further distraction in his lecture notes. It was his usual practice to study in the early morning quiet. He was about to begin his study preparations for the next round of examinations when he came across a message from his roommate. It indicated that a letter waited for him.
Eric hurried to dress for his day, feeling inexplicably drawn to the post to find out who had written to him. His father wrote only once a month. Eric remembered that his most recent letter lay in his trunk already. So the fact that an additional letter waited was too curious.
As soon as the office opened, Eric went to the postmaster and requested the letter. It was a heavy-paper document, sealed with dark bronze wax. That signified that the sender was wealthy.
The design pressed into the wax seal was unusual. If you turned it upside down, it resembled an elaborate capital P. But in its upright position, it was curiously a lowercase letter d.
Eric broke the seal and unfolded the heavy parchment. The greeting gave nothing to the author’s identity, so he was obliged to turn to the end page to see who sent the note. At the end there was no signature either.
He returned his attention to the opening lines and began to read the message.
“Master Eric Benchley—As I am sure this letter finds you in good health and spirits overall, I’ll skip the inquiries. I realize it is unusual to receive a note from an unknown author, but I believe my lack of signature will not detract or deceive you once you have read my words. I have a few things of importance that I must share with you.
“Firstly, there is the subject of your nighttime entertainments. I wish to remind you that as a budding barber-surgeon it is your duty to model the best practices of health in your own life. That being said, I feel it imperative to give you a warning.
“On the evening of the week prior to Easter you will be presented with a choice. I only hope that you will heed this warning and take my advice as to the proper decision. I won’t frighten you with the particulars. Instead I’ll only offer you two words: red gown.
“Secondly, I have a few things to offer you in pursuit of your career. The study of in-depth anatomy is very vital, as you are aware. But it is important to remember things you already know when dealing with particularly pesky problems.
“Examinations will rely on textbook knowledge. However, there is a certain professor who loves to use real experiences to throw in unusual diff
iculties that only common sense and practice can remedy. You are more than capable of handling anything he puts forth as an obstacle, so trust yourself, Eric.
“I should like to continue writing to you, if that is alright. You aren’t around anymore, and when Dr. Benchley comes out to visit us or responds to my notes it isn’t the same when you’re not with him.
“I know this cannot be avoided, but it still doesn’t make the long periods of your absence any easier to bear. You were always a source of wit and amusement for me, you see. And I feel certain our paths are destined to cross again.
“I hope that my letters will not prove troublesome to you. Keep them a secret if you wish. No one in my family is privileged to know that I am corresponding with you.
“Lucky for me I have a loyal friend in my secrecy who assists me in getting notes to their intended recipients. I am fully aware that he is only going to be available for such tasks for the next two years. I will deal with the loss of his company when the time arises.
“At any rate, expect to hear from me fairly often. That is, if you do not object to my correspondence. I’ll continue to write unless you say otherwise.
“There is one more thing you should probably know, and it is of vital importance to your future, so pay attention! You cannot trust just anyone concerning your personal life with regard to your money, your relationships or your academic progress. To do this would be immediate disaster for you.
“Keep anything you value a secret just for you, and use care when revealing even the most miniature details to supposed friends. There are too many people in this world that will take advantage of you in your weakest moments. Always remember that.
Your dear friend, --“
The letter was three small pages long and written in a careful hand. Eric smiled to himself when he realized, around the second paragraph, that he knew the author.
Lady Bliss was probably about thirteen years old if his memory served him correctly. How could a thirteen year old girl know so much information about anything so remotely connected to her?