Again, I tried to tell James to stop, but again I could do little but whimper. And despite my tugs and wriggles, my ankles and wrists remained bound firmly to the bedposts as he began to push his fingers right inside me there, exploring my rump while his lips once more moving back to my womanhood.
By now I was not enjoying myself in the slightest, partly from the sheer embarrassment and confusion of James’s strange fascination with my rump, yet also intermingled with Lady Violet’s warnings, the whole effect causing my feelings to build inside me in something of a whirl.
But to be clear, although it might have been mistaken by James as such, due to my bindings, this was in no sense the same overwhelming pleasure as had I experienced earlier, but more something of a fit of panic and discomfort, as I cried and struggled, cried and struggled, in an attempt to free myself from his attentions upon my body.
And it was only when he gave pause for a moment, locking his burning eyes with mine, and he finally registered the hot tears that were now spilling from my eyes, that he stopped what he was doing, quickly untying the gag from my mouth, allowing me finally to gasp in the air that had been partly denied me until that point.
“Untie me this instant!” I cried.
“Amelia, darling,” he replied, doing as I asked, a pained and confused expression covering his face. “Whatever is the matter?”
But I did not want to talk, only to be rid of him so that I could try to regain my composure – for the very moment that he untied me, I fled his bedchamber, slamming the door loudly behind me.
“Amelia?” he called in my wake, his voice sounding from behind the door. “Whatever is wrong? Please, come back. I don’t understand ...”
But I felt in no mood to explain myself then, my body trembling with barely concealed anger and shock.
“Leave me alone,” I called back, loud enough to silence him.
And then, before I could say another word, I was overcome with the most deep and sorrowful sobs.
I simply could not help it; that night my thoughts once more lingered upon Lady Violet’s warnings, churning and crashing in my mind until they reached a veritable cacophony.
I fear that he means to hurt you ...
And when I thought back to the strange looks she had given me at the ball, I wondered if in fact they were not emotions of jealousy directed towards me, but instead simply that of anger and fear – aimed squarely at James.
Oh, dear reader, my poor head was in such a muddle, it felt at first as if I could do nothing but sob, lying there prostrate upon my bed, feeling so utterly miserable and foolish to have not taken Lady Violet’s warnings to heart sooner.
And I knew that the only thing I could do now to save myself from him was to flee this place; to leave Hartford Hall immediately, and free myself from his violent and devilish urges before he did indeed hurt me further.
As I began to hurriedly pack a bag, I realised with a heavy heart how little I really owned – save from a closet of pretty dresses, and what good were those to me now? In the end I packed only a few simple garments, a book, and of course my treasured charm bracelet, the very same one that kind dear Lorna had kept for me, hidden from Aunt Agnes all those years, and then pressed into my hand as I was finally leaving Sandwell Hall.
With my thoughts still churning and whirling, I sat upon the edge of my bed, waiting patiently until the very dead of night – for I did not want anyone, especially not James, to become aware of my escape. And it felt as if nightfall took forever to arrive, but eventually yes, my room was indeed plunged into a deep and still darkness, the only light now coming from the thin sliver of moon that shone above the thick woodland that surrounded Hartford Hall.
Once I was sure that the house was completely asleep, I took up my bag and then tiptoed out into the hall, making sure to ease the door to my chamber open ever so slowly, so that it did not make even the slightest creak.
As I crept along the corridor, I felt just like a child again – my mind casting back to that odd night, so long ago, when I’d been awoken by the arrival of the stranger on horseback.
I tiptoed down the great staircase, then along the servants’ corridor that led to the kitchen, deciding that this way was my best chance of a soundless escape. The moonlight shone against the many silver pans that hung from racks in the large cold kitchen, and in that shimmering half-light, I could make out the large door that led to the gardens, locked with three bolts.
The first and second gave way easily, but as I tugged and strained at the third bolt, I felt my heart sink. Was I really so weak as to not even be able to open a door? But just as I were about to give up, I summoned some final vestiges of strength from deep within my body and to my relief felt the stiff metal slide back, and sure enough the door swung open, letting a surprisingly cold gust of night air into the stillness of the kitchen.
I slipped outside, shutting the door quietly behind me, and only then, when I was out there in the garden, my flimsy cloak wrapped tight around me to guard me from the icy wind, did I finally begin to run.
I gasped – at the shock of the cold night. For only that afternoon, I had been sitting in the warmth of the sun. But tonight, it seemed as if I were running away in the very dead of winter. My simple leather slippers and cloak did not seem enough protection against this harsh night.
And furthermore, the more I ran, the more fearful I became that somehow James would sense that I had left the house, and was even perhaps chasing after me right now. I know this may sound foolish to you, but in that heightened state of emotion, I had become thoroughly confused, and it seemed perfectly within reason that I should be pursued as I ran – either by James or perhaps by Cooper or one of the footmen.
So ran I did, as fast as I possibly could, all through the gardens and past the lake, my cloak now billowing out behind me, the bag swinging heavily in my grip, as I sprinted, fast as I could, hardly taking pause to notice how beautiful the shimmering moonlit lake looked as I passed it, heading towards the mass of darkness and woodland that signified the end of Hartford’s grounds, and so too my freedom.
It was only when I had climbed the wooden fence at the edge of the grounds, hearing my dress snag and tear a little behind me, did I allow myself to slow down somewhat, my breath now shallow and ragged from my exertions.
The further I progressed into the blackness of the forest, the colder and more impenetrable it became, until soon I was stumbling forward, shivering and terrified, hardly able to even make out my own fingers before my face. I took a timid step, feeling my foot suddenly catch tight in something, perhaps a tree root, and before I could even steady myself, I’d fallen face first into the dampness of leaves and mud and mulch that made up the forest floor.
In my fall, I realised I had dropped my bag, too, and I stopped where I was, utterly distraught, searching all around me on my hands and knees for it, but finding nothing at all but wet handfuls of leaves.
At the notion that I had lost my precious bracelet, I began to sob, for it seemed even worse out here in the darkness than it did back at Hartford Hall, and I realised only then what a silly and foolish girl I had been to entertain the notion that I could run away like this – for where really did I even expect to go?
But just then my sobbing was interrupted by a low and ominous growl, as if from some evil wild beast.
I froze stock still upon my hands and knees, even forcing the shivering of my body to cease, as I tried to make out in which direction the noise was coming from.
Grrrroooowwwwllll ...
There it was again, a low and beastly murmur, coming it seemed from directly behind me, causing me to tremble in pure terror, my poor heart knocking hard against my ribs, as I wondered just what in the world to do.
The noise sounded otherworldly; not simply a dog or a wolf, but some creature straight from the depths of Hades, and I felt sure that I was to become its prey.
In a moment of sheer madness, I pushed myself back to my feet, intending to run, but in doing so
, I must have startled some other poor creature even more timid than myself, for my standing caused a veritable riot of activity, squeaking and flapping at my face, and rustling from the bushes all around me, and as the panic rose and crested inside me, everything seemed to rush towards me at once, my head spinning, and my heart pounding, and my body utterly overcome by dizziness, as I sank back once more to my knees upon the cold wet carpet of leaves, and then fell backwards even further, backwards, all the way into darkness and unconsciousness ...
My mind; a cascade of images and sensations, each one tumbling into the other with neither rhyme nor reason: the stuffiness of the attic schoolroom, the cruel voice of Aunt Agnes, my secret shivering motions in the punishment room, the tenderness of Lorna’s soft kisses upon my forehead, and then finally James, my husband – the sharp crack of his hand upon my skin and the sheer heat and thickness of him as he pushes himself inside me ...
I awoke with a start, crying out, unsure at first where I was, looking all around me in a fog of panic, my eyes slowly adjusting to the soft light of my bedchamber in what seemed to be the early afternoon. And there at my side was James, concern etched upon his face.
“Am I ... am I safe?” I murmured.
“Of course you are, my darling,” he said gently, reaching out and taking my hand from beneath the covers and holding it tightly in both of his. “You were found in the woods,” he explained. “You’ve had a terrible fever. You’ve been slipping in and out of consciousness for a few days ... I must confess, for a while, I thought I might even have lost you ...”
“My charm bracelet!” I gasped, interrupting him, as the memories came flooding back: first my night time flight from him, and then my bag slipping from my grip, lost in the pitch darkness of the forest.
“You mean this?” he said, pressing the familiar little bracelet into my palm.
“Oh thank the Lord!” I exclaimed.
“Why don’t you give it a closer look?” he persisted.
And so, somewhat puzzled, I began to examine the bracelet more closely, only to discover that a brand new charm had been added to it.
“But I don’t understand,” I said. “This one is new?”
At this, his face softened even further and a smile crept across his lips, as he pointed out each charm in turn on the bracelet.
“An angel,” he said, “for protection. Ballet shoes for grace. A cross for faith. A daisy for innocence. The apple of knowledge. And finally ...” he said softly, pointing out the new charm, “a key to symbolise awakening.”
“But how do you know all this?” I asked.
“Who do you think has been sending them to you all these years?” he laughed. “I was hoping one day to be able to give you this final charm, and I am so glad that day has finally come.”
I looked to James. “Was it really you all these years?” But even as I asked the question, I realised that I knew deep down that the answer was yes.
“Yes, I’ve always looked out for you, in any way I could,” he explained softly, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing it. “Although your aunt never made it easy for me to be in your life.”
Then a memory came flooding back; that evening from ten years ago, as clear as if it were just yesterday.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” I gasped. “It was you who came to rescue me, that night when I was still a child?”
“Indeed it was,” he replied softly, his eyes brimming with tenderness and love. “I did not know you then, but I knew we were betrothed. I hated the idea of you being locked away in that cold house. Your aunt forbade me from taking you away then as she was still legally your guardian until your nineteenth year. But as soon as she no longer had power over you, I took you away from that place.”
“Oh, James, forgive me,” I wept, for I knew now that someone as kind-hearted as he could never be the beastly monster that Lady Violet had suggested. “Forgive me for ever doubting your intentions ...”
“Of course, my dear,” he replied so kindly, knowing nothing of the dreadful things I had suspected him of. “Now get some rest.”
And with that, he planted a soft kiss upon my feverish forehead and stood to leave.
It took me two days to fully recover from the intense fever brought on by my night flight. As I dressed for dinner that evening, I could not be happier. To be a woman dressing in her finery, to see her handsome husband who cared so much about her – what a wonderful thing!
The final touch to my outfit: the charm bracelet around my wrist. I laughed to myself as I realised that all these years, I had never even worn it! Ten years, it had been kept hidden away safely in Lorna’s room. And since my time here, I had stowed it in a little drawer, a symbol of my past life, of who I was.
I felt complete as I watched it glisten upon my wrist, the brand new key charm shining especially brightly.
I see now that the bracelet was not a symbol of who I was, but who I was destined to become.
After a delicious three-course meal, we lingered together in the great dining hall over conversation and wine.
James, although obviously still concerned about my health, had not yet asked exactly why I had run from the house that fateful night.
I knew that he would respect my right to privacy and would never outright ask what had caused me to flee. But I felt he deserved to know, particularly when the conversation turned to the matter of the guest-list for the ball he declared we ‘must soon have’.
“James, my darling,” I began, rather timidly, “there is something you should know. I feel I must tell you what happened that night ...”
“Amelia, my love,” James cut across me, “I believe a woman should be allowed her secrets. You don’t have to tell me anything. All that matters is that you are back here, safe with me again.”
“No, no,” I insisted. “It is important that I explain.”
“Very well,” he replied, looking me tenderly in the eye.
“I have made several friends in my time here,” I began.
“Yes,” he said, “I am pleased to see that the ladies find you as charming as I do.”
“And in particular,” I continued, “Lady Violet has been most attentive – always giving me advice, and other womanly confidences. And in the short time I have been here, I thought that perhaps we were becoming close ... Although of course, as you know, I have little understanding of female friendships, or any friendships at all, for that matter.”
“Go on,” James said, his brow knitting as he puzzled over the direction of the tale I was telling.
“She let it be known,” I continued hesitantly, beginning to blush now, “that you and her had shared certain intimacies. I did not doubt her. How could I? For you see, she knew so many details about you, about your private ... behaviours. I knew she had to be telling the truth.”
He nodded, as if to confirm that Lady Violet had indeed been telling the truth.
I took a deep breath, hardly aware how I was to speak the next part of my story aloud.
“You see,” I said quietly, “Lady Violet began to express concern for me. A concern I took to be genuine and sisterly, although I know now that it was not the case. She warned me of your dark desires. She warned me that they would become even darker. I was made to understand that she feared for my very life ... And so, that night when you were somewhat rough with me, when I saw that you had indeed drawn blood from my pale breast, in my panic I too feared for my life, and decided that I must flee from you for my own safety. I know now how wrong I was. Please forgive me.”
With that, James touched his fingertip gently to my lips.
“Hush,” he said quietly. “I do not need to hear any apologies from you. You have nothing to say sorry for. I am glad you have told me this tale, for you have made my mind up utterly and completely.”
“Whatever do you mean?” I asked.
James took a deep breath, as if he now were to begin his own tale.
“It is true,” he said, “in my younger days I did indeed hav
e relations with Lady Violet, for I was a hot-headed youth with many years of waiting ahead of me before I could claim my bride. I had made it clear to Lady Violet that I was promised to another, and that our relations could never be more than they were; that we were merely enjoying each other, and would never be betrothed.”
He sighed again, then continued.
“At first, Violet agreed with this proposition, but after I vowed to see her no more, she became somewhat troublesome, alternating between abject begging and strange, threatening behaviour – insinuating that she would ruin me. You see, Amelia, my darling, in the end I merely felt sorry for her. She was a troubled young woman with a good family name, but much like yourself, no mother to guide her. And I cursed myself for my involvement with her. I was a young man, and I had little clue how our intimate relations would affect her. So, when she came to me one day, tears in her eyes and fear in her bosom, begging me to lend her money, I agreed. You see, she had gotten herself into terrible financial trouble, gambling debts, from what I hear, and her family estate was in peril. Several years have passed since that time, and I have not been repaid by Lady Violet. Rather, my kindness to her has been reimbursed in gossip and yet more threats. I have ignored them until now, anxious not to scandalise our little society.”
At this, he shook his head in anger.
“However, Violet has gone too far this time,” he continued. “When I think what could have happened to you, out there in the woods, well, it doesn’t bear thinking about.”
“What will you do, James?” I asked.
“Don’t worry,” he replied. “I will not hurt her. I will not even humiliate her in public, through malice, gossip and lies, just as she has tried to do to us. Instead, I shall simply ensure that she leaves this place, swiftly and quietly, and that she shall never return.”
That same evening, after our wine, James took me by the hand and led me to his bedchamber, which was lit just by a single candle, covering our bodies by flickering shadows as we slowly undressed each other — silently, lovingly, reverentially.
Awakened by a Lord: Victorian Nights Page 9