Manor of Pleasure: An Erotic Historical Romance

by Debra Sheridan

  "Father, please," Rebecca appealed to him. "What has Desmond told you?"

  Lord Garway could not believe that he had wandered into this emotional minefield like a blind man. Thinking he might mitigate his damages, he tried to reassure her.

  "He is concerned for you, Rebecca. He means to meet with Sir Isaac to convince him not to publish the story."

  Rebecca was dumbfounded.

  Lady Garway's mouth was agape. She turned to Rebecca. "Desmond knows of Sir Isaac? You told him?"

  "I told him when he proposed," Rebecca replied. "Not that it matters. He told me it meant nothing to him. Now I see that he was mistaken." Rebecca rose from her chair.

  "Rebecca, you are mistaking his motives. Don't be angry," her father urged.

  "Please excuse me." Rebecca did not look at either of them. She left the room quickly.

  Lord Garway spoke first. "I know what she's thinking but she's wrong. Desmond is far above such pettiness. And Rebecca knows him better than any of us." He folded his paper and placed it beside his dinnerware.

  "I think we may have underestimated the depth of her feeling," Lady Garway replied softly. "Rebecca has always hid her fears well. She may be worried that Desmond will have second thoughts."

  "Then she doesn't know him at all," uttered her husband.

  "I'll give her time to sort her thoughts. Then I'll speak with her." She rose from her chair.

  Lady Garway went to Rebecca's room within the half-hour. She was not there. Despite the best efforts of Her Ladyship and the servants, she was nowhere to be found.

  CHAPTER NINE

  "Good day, Abbott, how are you?" Desmond looked about the foyer as he entered Penhope Manor. He had hoped Rebecca would greet him at the door. Lately, it seemed his principal aim in his life was to see her as soon and as often as possible. He needed to be with her.

  "I'm well, thank you, sir." The manservant helped him remove his overcoat. "His Lordship has been waiting for you. I've been instructed to take you to him at once." Abbott's manner was hurried, anxious.

  "What is it, Abbott? Is something the matter?" asked Desmond. "Nothing serious, I hope?"

  "I will let his Lordship explain, Mr. Baines, sir."

  Desmond kept pace with Abbott as they hastened to the drawing room. "Mr. Baines to see you, sir. Will there be anything else?"

  Desmond observed that Lord and Lady Garway shared the same grim expression.

  "Not for now, thank you, Abbott," Lord Garway answered. "Desmond, good to see you."

  "Yes, good afternoon. Good day, Lady Garway," Desmond nodded to her. "Whatever's the matter?" Desmond raised his eyebrows. "Where's Rebecca?"

  Lord Garway exchanged glances with his wife. "We don't know where she is. Desmond, I assumed – wrongly, it appears – that you had told her of your plans to meet with Sir Isaac. I'm sorry about it but there it is. It upset her very much to learn of it."

  "No one has seen her since then," Lady Garway added. "It's been seven hours." She walked to the nearest window and stared out onto the expanse of the gardens.

  Desmond looked away, his eyes to the ground. He was shaken to his core. He took a deep breath. He looked back at Lord Garway. "She's not in the house? You're sure?"

  "She's taken her horse, Guinevere. She could be anywhere," Lady Garway answered him, her voice fraught with worry. "This is so unlike her, to leave the house without any word of her plans to anyone."

  "I either hoped that she would have returned by now," Lord Garway said, "or that, perhaps, she might have been with you."

  Desmond brought his hand up to his forehead. His mind was racing. "I wish she had been. I haven't seen her since last night." He looked at the two of them. "She can't be far. I'll leave at once while there's still light."

  "I should go with you. We've a better chance between the two of us," said Lord Garway.

  "It's not necessary, I assure you. Your place is with Lady Garway." Desmond spoke confidently.

  "Rebecca and I followed a well-worn path yesterday. She won't have strayed far from it. I will find her and bring her home. Trust me."

  "I'll ring for Tobias. He can get Harold to ready a horse for you. You can take mine." Lord Garway approached the bell pull.

  "I haven't time for that, my lord. I can saddle a horse. Please excuse me." Desmond gave them each a final glance and quickly took his leave.

  Once in the hallway, Desmond was immediately greeted by Abbott. "You will need these, sir." He handed Desmond his coat and hat. "Follow me. I can show you the shortest path to the stables."

  "You read my mind, Abbott." Desmond accompanied the footman through an unfamiliar doorway and down a confined stairwell. It was the first time that Desmond had been allowed entry into the servants' passages.

  The bottom of the stairwell opened up to a different world. The corridors were narrow and gray. The eyes of the maids and menservants followed him as he passed.

  He smelled the kitchen first before he observed its ruckus. Finally, Abbott opened the doorway leading to the back courtyard.

  "You can find it easily from here, sir. See there," Abbott motioned with his right hand.

  "Thank you, Abbott."

  "Godspeed, sir."

  "I will find her, Abbott. Keep an eye out for us."

  "You know I will, Mr. Baines."

  Desmond walked quickly to the stables. The air was fresh and cold. He tried to flesh out the reasons for Rebecca's extreme reaction. What could she be thinking? His failure to keep her fully informed could not explain this.

  Desmond could have charmed his way out of that slight he was sure of it.

  His worst fear was that she was punishing herself yet again for an absence of discretion that was the damned Sir Isaac affair. How ironic that would be. It was the very reason he delayed telling her of his plans, to spare her further torment on that score. He saddled a spirited horse and within minutes, he was able to set out.

  The sun was low in the sky by the time he reached the landing near the gamekeeper's cottage. He was relieved to see Guinevere there, peacefully feeding on nearby grasses.

  He dismounted, tethered his horse. He made his way through the brush with solid strides. Desmond's heart rose to his throat as he neared the cottage.

  If she was not here, what were his other options? He had none. He squeezed the latch and pushed on the door forcefully.

  The small room was cold and dark. She was lying on the mattress – was she sleeping? He walked quickly to the small bed and sat down on the edge beside her.

  She was asleep and breathing quietly. Her eyes were closed, her lashes glistened. Her tear-stained cheeks were flushed. Her hair, having worked itself loose, framed her face in soft brown wisps and strands.

  Desmond was overcome with an infinite tenderness. What sadness was she hiding? Did he do this to her? He removed his glove and caressed her hair, her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered open. She looked up at him.

  "Desmond…how long have I been sleeping?" She started to shiver.

  "I don't know, my darling. I've only just arrived." He stood up and took off his coat. "You are ice-cold." He covered her gently with the woolen garment. He sat down again.

  She looked into his steel blue eyes. She loved him so. She could feel her eyes well up and a single tear found its way to the edge of her cheek. She wiped it away hastily. "I must get back," she whispered. She sat up slowly. She was cold, so very cold.

  "Rebecca, I'm so sorry. I meant to tell you..."

  "Please, Desmond, I must get back. My mother and father must be beside themselves with worry." Rebecca pushed his coat to one side.

  She maneuvered herself around Desmond and stood up. "Thank you for coming to fetch me. I suppose I'm quite lucky that you found me before I froze to death." She smiled nervously. She straightened her clothing and tried to fix her hair. "I must look a fright."

  Desmond stood up beside her and grabbed her hand. "Can you forgive me, Rebecca? I know now that I should have told you.”

  She was weak
and spent from heartache. She pulled her hand away. "It doesn't matter, Desmond." She shook her head. "None of it matters. You needn't worry. And I shan't hold you to your promise." She turned away from him and walked to the door.

  Desmond reached out and grabbed her arm. "Why do you say these things to me?" he entreated, "I don't understand it."

  Rebecca refused to look at him. Tears rolled down her face. She prayed he would not see them. She wiped her face dry with her free hand.

  Desmond strengthened his hold on her arm and pulled her to him. He spoke to her slowly and with deliberation. "You're mad if you think I'm going to let you leave me." His voice was shaking.

  Rebecca closed her eyes and swallowed. She pulled away from him. She grabbed onto the door latch in a feeble attempt to leave. He wrapped his arms around her. He buried his face in her hair. "Not again, Rebecca," he pleaded.

  She held her ground. "Let me go, Desmond," she said in a whisper. "I am…soiled goods. Nothing you can do, nothing you can say to anyone will ever change what I am."

  “There's one thing to be said of soiled goods,” Desmond reached for her, and his grip was bruising. “I shan't have to take much care in handling you, shall I?”

  “Please don't tease, Des.” She turned to face him, her eyes shining with tears. "I'm heading towards a firestorm. I will not take you with me. You don't deserve it."

  "And you do?" Desmond looked down at her. Her face was still flushed but her lips were colorless. "Rebecca, you're not well." She was shivering uncontrollably now.

  He grabbed his coat and wrapped it around her and held her close. Rebecca felt the room spinning and then collapsed in his arms.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The night was black when they arrived at the house. They were astride Desmond's horse with Guinevere tethered behind them. Rebecca lay against Desmond's chest, barely conscious.

  True to his word, Abbott stood at the entrance of Pinhope Manor as they approached. Rebecca was soon settled in her room and Dr. Elkins had been summoned.

  After the doctor had completed his examination, he joined the Garways just outside of Rebecca's bedroom. He closed the door quietly behind him.

  "It's nothing serious, although it might have been if Desmond had not found her when he did. It is a mild case of hypothermia and dehydration, nothing that a day in bed will not cure."

  "May I see her?" asked Desmond.

  "She's sleeping now, Desmond. You best wait until morning," Dr. Elkins answered.

  "Go home, Desmond. Get some sleep." Lord Garway said to him.

  "You're certain she's in no danger?" Desmond looked to the doctor.

  "I'm quite certain of it. She'll be fine," Dr. Elkins assured him.

  "Shall I send for the carriage, Desmond?" Lord Garway asked him.

  "No, thank you, Lord Garway. I'd much rather walk. I'll see you in the morning then. Goodnight."

  The cold night air was bracing and Desmond welcomed it. He needed to clear his head. That she would break off their engagement at all was unthinkable. But to break over a scheme of Sir Isaac's would be utterly preposterous.

  Surely he could make her see that. He had to make her see that because he could not now fathom a life without her. If she were to leave him, she would sail across the Atlantic, he was sure of it. The break would be absolute and final.

  He wondered how he would survive it this time, having lived this dream of her for the past two days. His heartache would be unimaginable. He tried not to think about it but it followed him home like a specter.

  The next day, Desmond woke up unsettled. Then his recollection of the prior day's events fell upon him. His morning rituals gave him some respite; they per-occupied him and applied a veneer of normalcy to his day.

  At breakfast, he gave his mother a watered-down version of the events, omitting references to Sir Isaac to the possible rupture between himself and Rebecca. There was much that was left unanswered.

  "So for reasons known only to her, Rebecca rode out and fell asleep in a cottage."

  Mrs. Baines gave her son a regard of pure disbelief. "That's nonsense, Desmond. What are you not telling me?"

  "Mother, it's not my story to tell," Desmond set down his cup. "Besides it may no longer be our concern." He stared out the window.

  "Not our concern? She is your fiancee and my future daughter-in-law." His mother went and sat next to him. "Desmond, you come downstairs plodding like a gravedigger. You tell me the oddest story of Rebecca running away." She rose from the table. "Are things settled between you and Rebecca or not?"

  Desmond let out a sigh of resignation. One way or another, she would soon find out. Better that it should be from him than from that wretched tongue of that rake, Sir Isaac. "You'd better sit," Desmond advised her.

  After he finished his rendition, his mother did not appear the least bit shaken or surprised. "Things are never as they seem on the surface," she stated as a matter of fact. "When did you learn of this?"

  "Rebecca told me several days ago when I proposed." He added, "If it had made a difference to me then, I would never have asked for her hand. She doesn't seem to think so."

  "So you love her still?"

  "Mother, I have always loved her. Almost from the very first day that I set eyes on her." He gave her a sideways glance.

  "Very well, then," Mrs. Baines said as she rose from her chair. "Wait here."

  Within a minute, Mrs. Baines returned to the dining room. She dropped a small gray velvet case in front of Desmond.

  "What is this?" he asked her. Upon her urging, he opened it. The tiny box contained a gold ring bearing a oval garnet of scarlet red at its center. The gem itself was encircled by tiny diamonds. It was elegant and flawless.

  Desmond looked up at his mother. "It's lovely. Wherever did this come from?"

  "Your father gave it to me before we were married. It's a promise ring," she answered. "It's been awhile since it fit me. I want you to have it to give to Rebecca."

  "That's a risky proposition, isn't it, in the circumstances?" questioned Desmond, his eyebrow arching slightly.

  "I think not, Desmond," his mother reassured him. "Anyone who has seen you and Rebecca together would have no doubts." She smiled. "You know I had brought it out once or twice when you were courting that clergyman’s daughter. She was a dear girl. Then something would happen to shake my confidence and I would squirrel it away again." She shrugged slightly and smiled.

  "You're not shocked by Rebecca's conduct with Sir Isaac?" Desmond asked her warily.

  "Desmond, I was not born yesterday and neither were you. There are a good many skeletons in the bedroom closets of the upper class. None of us are perfect." Mrs. Baines looked at him plainly. "Rebecca has proven her worth and character in other ways that have satisfied me."

  Desmond looked at the ring one more time before closing its case. He was impressed by his mother's discretion and by her confidence in his future with Rebecca. He wished that he had the same degree of faith in Rebecca's love for him. But their record with one another had not been stellar. He was nervous.

  "Now go fetch your coat," his mother urged him. "You have business to tend to."

  Abbott greeted Desmond at the door and after relieving him of his coat and hat, quickly ushered him to the staircase. "I understand she's waiting for you, Mr. Baines."

  Desmond acknowledged Abbott with a nod of thanks and directed himself up the stairs. He could feel his heartbeat quicken as he approached her bedroom. He rapped lightly on the door.

  "Come in," he heard her say.

  He entered.

  "Good morning, Rebecca," Desmond smiled faintly. "I hope you're feeling better."

  Rebecca was sitting up in her bed, supported by an assortment of pillows. Her dark hair was tied back by a length of red ribbon. The pale pink of her cheeks had returned and her lips were cherry red.

  It was quite obvious that she was waiting to see him and she had attended to some preparation for his visit. He could not tell if that was a good si
gn or a bad omen.

  She nodded and smiled. "I'm better, Desmond. Thank you." She patted her hand on the bed. "Please come and sit."

  Desmond's stomach was in knots. He went and sat down on the edge of her bed. Neither of them spoke. She reached out slowly and grabbed his hand. She pulled it toward her and began to lightly caress his fingers. She laced his fingers with hers and looked up.

  "How are you?" she asked him softly.

  He still could not fathom her intention. "Well, that depends," he answered.

  "On what?" Her voice was quiet.

  He pulled his hand away. "Rebecca, don't play with me. Yesterday, you asked me to break with you. And now you ask me how I am?" He stood up and paced across the room. He stared out the window. "What can you be thinking?" He shook his head.

  Rebecca didn't speak.

  He continued with an increasing degree of bewilderment. "We have shared things, done things to each other that only the most intimate lovers do. Does that not mean anything to you?” Desmond turned to face her. His eyes were dark, accusatory. "Do you want to me to end our engagement? Do you really?"

  Rebecca's eyes welled up. "Don't be angry with me, Desmond, please."

  He approached her, uttering, "I tell you this, Rebecca. I will not end it. If you want me to leave and leave forever, I will but you must tell me that is what you want. I will do as you ask." He turned from her and waited.

  She spoke resolutely in hushed tones. "Desmond, once my story is published, I will be a pariah. You must ask yourself if you can live with that. Can you see yourself married to an outcast…a whore? Who knows what people will say about me, about you?"

  "I see myself married to you." Desmond turned to face her. "What others may say means nothing to me. I know who you are. And I know who I am."

  Rebecca rose from her bed and went to him.

  "Then you must know this…that you are the very air that I breathe. Do you think I said those things lightly yesterday as if they meant nothing? I feel as if my soul had been ripped out from my very core." She turned away from him in an effort to hide her tears.