The absence of Fitz has been intolerable. I swing between elation at Edmund’s departure and heartsick despair. I allow myself one cry. Straight after the they left, exhausted from my night in Fitz’s room and overcome with the shock of his leaving I gave in to despair. With the door locked the servants knew not to approach. My eyes were red and puffy, cheeks sore from wiping away tears but then I came to back to myself. Observing from the sash windows I tried to think clearly. Fitz believed me to be an intelligent, capable woman. Alongside a dozen other things which made me blush and smile just to remember. I could not remember a time before where Tarrick Hall had been at my disposal. What could I use this situation for? I must push the idea of Edmund insisting on being present in the room to the rear of my mind. Otherwise my hands tremble and nausea overwhelm. Instead I pace the parlour, my gown swishing as I grow more frustrated. I remember the things Edmund forbade me from over
When Edmund comes for me at eleven every emotion has raced through me a dozen times already. The act of love I commit with Fitz would be forever polluted and tainted should Edmund insist. My feet unsteady as we walked along the corridor. He doesn’t say a word but his anger is apparent. The rap of his cane is sharper, hitting the floor harder than ever. I dare not ask how his trip proceeded. My tongue is so tied that when he opens the door my heart does not even flutter. Fear consumes me despite being only metres away from Fitz. He is stood, white shirt and tan breeches again, his blue and gold uniform dispensed with. His ashy brown hair is trimmed back, some curls still visible and I have an overwhelming urge to run my hands through it. I wear my white cotton nightgown and purple silk robe as before. My hair in loose curls, the tight, ringlet forming wraps of cotton usually used by Marie rejected this evening. She understood why, nodding, with a soft, “I shall be praying for you You
Once on the bed Fitz caressed my face with his hand, my hair softly falling through his fingers. His leg laid across mine was deliciously heavy, parting mine naturally as we lay together. I pushed his braces down his arms, his shirt already open and kissed his bare chest. "What are you thinking," I asked softly and a small smile lit up his face. "How relieved I am to see the colour back in your face. You looked positively ill this afternoon and then tonight you were grey." "Your compliments have not improved," I murmured, pulling him towards me for a kiss and lifting my rear from the mattress as his hands began to work my nightgown upwards. "I say as I see," and lavished kisses on my neck as I squirmed. “There, a much better colour,” he said with a grin, lifting his head up, forcing me to smile at his tease. My eyes almost closing as his other hand traced lazy patterns around my covered breasts and stomach, slowly winding its way down to the raised hem of my nightgown. As he kis
“No please!” I cried, leaping from the bed and chasing him to the door, “no please Fitz, you can’t!” He was like steel, inflexible despite my tugging at his arms he continued towards the handle. “Do not be like him. You are the better man, the man I love.” “He laid his hands on you! You are asking me about whipping and beating, how can I live with myself if I do not keep you safe from such a monster!” “Because my life cannot continue without you! You kill him and I lose you forever!” continuing to grab at his shirt, desperately trying to make him listen. I wedged myself between Fitz and the door, pushing my weight against it. His huge frame towered over me, frustration oozing from every pore. “Vanessa…” his voice trailing off as my hands raked up and down his chest, trying to soothe him. His whole body was as tense as steel. “It was once, years ago, please don’t leave me.” “I’m not leaving you, I’m trying to look after you,” he replied grittily. I placed my hands softly against h
There is no single term available to describe the following week. Bliss, heaven, freedom. Each night Edmund delivered me to that room and Fitz devoured me. Once the three nights were up I could not stand to go back to ignorance. I wanted to be impregnated this month, so I snuck into Fitz's room three more nights. I was shown a world of pleasures that I had not even dared imagine. He could be tenderness personified, whispering adoration into my ear as he made my sex quiver with need. I appeared to develop a separate personality. I sit as placid as a porcelain doll in my parlour all day long. Pliable, quiet and obedient. I take tea, needlepoint and meet with a local group of church women. We discuss the leaves on the road, the change in seasons, the latest fashions. Edmund has encouraged this, since Lady Cawley’s downfall there is a renewed focus on morality. I sit listening to impromptu sermons from the grey-haired zealots about the joys of marriage. The purity of the households
The sound of relentless banging and hammering led me to wander down the corridor to the most rarely visited room in Tarrick Hall, Edmunds bedroom suite. I had never dared go near after our honeymoon. The few times I had wandered to enquire about his shouts of pain had left me banished without setting foot over the threshold. Now the double mahogany doors were wide open. Royal blue patterned rugs covered the wooden floor. A huge dark, almost blackened wood four poster bed dominated the room. It was of a similar size to my own suite much further away, however this was dominated by medicine. White jackets with belts and straps were hung up over leather armchairs. Medicine bottles, metal pill cases and bloodletting equipment littered the desk by the window. There was a chemical smell, no flowers or comforts adorned the space. Even his bed lacked comfortable pillows and rich, warm sheets. It was simply a large mattress with a simple sheet. I wondered if the flatness was to aid his ba
As much as it pained me, we parted ways as agreed. I did not venture anywhere near the stables, he did not walk the horses past my parlour window. I subdued myself and turned inwards. Now I began obsessing over every bodily change. If a breeze made my skin itch, was it a sign of successful conception? A slight stomach-ache after eating an apple pudding? Edmund was no better. After two weeks of his daily steaming treatment he was in a foul mood. Unable to eat anything other than the foul-smelling broth prepared by Doctor Farrer, he seemed to study my eating with fascination. “How are you feeling?” he asked one evening, causing me to almost drop my spoon in shock. “I…I feel well, no different than usual Your Grace. Thank you for enquiring. How are you, are your treatments helping?” “Marie tells me there is no sign yet,” ignoring my question. I cringed to think of her reporting on the status of my bedsheets every morning. He briskly waved his quivering hand at the manservant to leave
I have been at my mother’s estate for over two weeks. Feigning illness I have been spared the worst of her cruel tongue though I cannot doubt she spotted the bruise on my cheek as I stepped down from the carriage. Jeremiah prepared the carriage, Fitz was elsewhere when I left. I wished I had the chance to leave a note, or explain but there was nothing to do but flee. I trusted servant gossip would soon inform him of the situation. There is nothing so likely to fuel their tongues than clearing up a mess. I am here to rest my wearied mind, I explained to mother and Kitty. I am hoping to conceive, and Edmund suggested a change of scene might help to relax me. It is a lie of course. We all know it, but it remains unspoken. In loose fitting lilac and pink day gowns I spent entire days in my mother’s cold blue parlour. Icy tones dominate. From the grey of her hair to the pearls she dons everything shimmers coldly. Kitty remains a diversion. She has kindly spent hours at my side reading, c