Warning: Mature-ish content towards the middle of the chapter, nothing graphic however…
Part VII
She was sitting in front of the mirror, but was too distracted to settle her gaze at her own reflection or any one place. The sparkles in her hazel eyes glowed and kindled as joy overflowing in her heart. The entire time when her maid was brushing her hair and dressing it for the night, her mind was buzzing over a potpourri of possibilities, and her tingling lips scintillating somewhere between an endearing smile and a mischievous grin.
The maid had tucked the lustrous hair of her mistress under the ruffled nightcap, only leaving several ringlets to frame her mistress's lovely face. It was when she had finished tying the string of her mistress's cap that she saw her master had come into the room through the connecting door between the Master and Mistress Chambers. The maid quietly went to the four-post bed and lowered the curtains as her last order of the night, and then curtsied to her master and mistress before quietly slipping away from their presence.
The masculine image of her husband reflected in the mirror quickly caught her eyes and snapped Emma out of her distractions. She spun her lithe body around the mahogany chair and bounded sprightly up to him.
"Oh, George!" she spoke with gaiety afloat in the air and took both his strong hands with her delicate ones, "Have you ever seen Father with so much animation before?"
He smiled, looking at her with admiration and adoration, his eyes dancing with excitement of a different sort, and he had kept his tender gaze on his wife's beautiful, beautiful face.
"Father is to come to Donwell Abbey the morrow!" she held his hands over her bubbling heart, the lightness of her spirit could nearly lift her off her feet. "He had not come to the Abbey since Grace was seven months old! And he had never, ever, initiated any, any, outing on his own! Have you ever seen Father so happy before tonight, George?"
He considered the question, but had something far better in mind – He had not seen his Emma with so much exuberance since she told him she was with their second child, and he would rather bask in her plethora of spirit, the source of his joy, than spoiling it with words that were deemed commonplace. The husband, with amusement quirking his lips, shook his head slightly, kept his admiring gaze on the apple of his eyes.
"Father had wished nothing but his gruel and advertisers for the past three years, there had been scarcely any pleasure in his life! I think…" she paused to think for a brief moment, "Father must be ready to increase his pleasure now…" her mind churning quickly, "the card-party at Hartfield must resume!" she remarked doggedly. "I ought to send invitations to Mrs and Miss Bates and Mrs Goddard the morrow and invite them to Hartfield for supper in two days!"
Emma let go of George's hands from her heart and flew to the writing desk, pulling out inkstand, paper, and quill to draft the invitations. And George, feeling the warmth and softness of his wife disappearing, followed her heels to the writing desk.
"Mr Woodhouse…" she began, "presents his compliments…" dipping the quill in the inkstand, "to Mrs and Miss Bates…" but no sooner had she dipped the quill in the ink again, she paused and stared at the paper.
"Oh, George!" Emma suddenly looked up, eyes beaming even brighter and livelier at him, "The Churchills shall be returning to Highbury in three weeks…"
Still, not a word from the patient husband, but he lifted a curious eyebrow at his wife.
"Do not you think…" springing up to her feet, abandoning the quill and invitations, "Do not you think it would please Father to have a dinner party for the Churchills at Hartfield?" Emma asked George with great anticipation. "We could invite the Bates, the Westons, the Coles… even the Eltons to Hartfield so that Father shall have plenty of company to visit with!"
"Emma," the husband, at last, broke his silence, "your father had not wished for any party since we married…"
"But, that was before tonight, George!" she looked a little let down, "You just agreed that you had not seen Father happier before..."
The husband hated to see the pout on his wife, but he was always honest with her. "And I am still in agreement with it. But a dinner party of this size when your father had refused to entertain for so long seems quite drastic to me."
"But there is a drastic improvement in Father, George!" laying her hands on his forearm as she pleaded, "Father was a completely different person when we bade him goodnight tonight. He had never allowed Isabella or me to bounce on his bed – not that Isabella had ever wished to bounce on even her own bed – but Father could never bear the liveliness in children. The way Father clapped and cheered for Grace was like he was a new person to me! I thought it was very brave of you to let Grace stay with Father tonight… I wonder…" Emma drifted into contemplation, "what Grace had said to Father to bring this much change in him…"
George chuckled, the thought of their children always brought merriment in him. "I wonder about that, too, my love! But no matter what Grace had said to your Father, I am afraid our daughter might be supplanting your place in your father's heart very soon."
Smiling up at him in contentment, "Oh, George," said Emma, "as long as Father is happy, Grace could succeed my place in Father's heart any time!"
The husband, encircling the waist of his wife with his hands, gently pulled her close to him, smiling proudly at her, "I am glad you do not mind, Emma!"
Pressing her hands on his chest, "Not even the slightest!" she imparted wholeheartedly, "I am only grateful that Grace could have such influence on Father!"
"But" returning to the notion in her head, "do you really think that it is too soon for a dinner party at Hartfield for Father?" she pleaded.
"For now, why do not we start with the card-party, Emma?" suggested George. "To ease your father back into society…"
"And" the husband had not finished his speech, but his beloved wife could not wait to finish it for him, "if Father is pleased with the card-party, we shall speak with him about the dinner-party for the Churchills?"
"Hmm…" George clasped Emma closer to him, "and if it would please your father – and – you," he let go of one hand from her waist and pinched her lovely nose affectionately with his fingers, "we could give a dinner party for the Churchills at the Abbey, to double the pleasure of your Father – and – you!"
"Oh! Thank you, George!" Emma threw her arms round George's neck, leaping off the floor, "Thank you, thank you so much! I love you, I love you, George!"
"And I love you, Emma!" the husband eagerly received his happy wife, lifting her off the ground in his arms for a moment. Her enticing person pressing intimately against him with only two thin layers of cotton from his nightshirt and her nightdress between them was driving this patient husband mad!
George lowered Emma gently onto the oaken floor, still clasping her tightly to him but tilting her face up with a tender finger.
"I hope you have not forgotten our meeting tonight, Emma…" the masculine husband had softened his voice to give way to tenderness reserved only for his darling wife.
Eyes shimmering with tenderness of the same deepness, Emma blushed demurely and ravishingly, and shook her head. "I was only distracted by the change in Father tonight… But I would never forget us, you silly goose… " sweetly, she reassured him.
He felt relieved, a sheepish smile broke out of his handsome face as he confessed, "For a moment I thought Mrs Knightley had left the Abbey and Miss Woodhouse had moved into the house…"
She let out a lovely little laugh, "But it would be scandalous to find Miss Woodhouse in such state of undress, and…" her blush was even more ravishing now, she dipped her head and said shyly, "in the arms… of… a man…"
"Not when," once again, he lifted her exquisite face to look up at him, "Miss Woodhouse is Mrs Knightley – and – the man who had the fortune to be with her is Mr Knightley… "
Flushing her person, so alluringly soft and tantalizingly warm, against his, the wife, standing on the tips of her toes, with her arms wrapping around his neck and her fingers tenderly raking his hair, gazing up at her husband, whispered adoringly, and bewitchingly, to him, "The one…and only… Mr George Knightley…"
After a fortnight of being away, not even considering the several months before and after the birth of their infant son, which had kept the two lovers apart, George could no longer withhold his long suffering desire.
"My dearest, dearest Emma… I have missed you so much…" declared the husband, lowering his longing lips onto his wife's for a kiss that sang the prelude of what was to come.
The kiss which had begun delicately was elevating rapidly into passions reflecting the insufferable longings they held within. As their lips fused in the amatory kisses, George had untied Emma's nightcap and tossed it onto the writing desk, letting her beautiful curls cascade down her shoulders and his fingers submerge under the silky strands.
And when the lush sensation of her opulent silk no longer satisfied his longing, his hand descended from her tresses to the curve of her elegant neck, and to the rosette buttons on the neckline of her cotton nightdress. With schooled patience, he unfastened the tiny barriers and allowed his voracious mouth traversing from her sweet supple lips, to her captivating collar bone, and unto her wildly fluttering heart.
The sumptuousness of the kisses could only appease his thirst for her in part, it could hardly contain the fire in his desire, the husband could no longer bear the torture, with fervour and determination, he lifted his wife in his arms and brought her to their bed – though they were in the Mistress Chamber, it was their bed, for, since they had removed to the Abbey, George had spent only a handful of nights, due to inconsequential illnesses on either Emma's or his part, in the Master Chamber. As the couple was too much in love to spend the nights apart in separate bedchambers, albeit the loving and sensible husband was always mindful of not subjecting his Emma to the risk of frequent childbirths, sleeping not in each other's arms seemed preposterous to both the man and wife.
He had laid his love on their bed; her luminous locks spreading across the plush pillow, spilling luxuriously onto the satin bedcovers. He was kneeling over her – adoring her! It did not matter how ravenous he was for her, he always paused to drink in her beauty, which lied not merely in her form and face of natural perfection, but also in her grace that was so artlessly unconscious of her own pulchritude, in her heart which she had given so fully to him and their children, and in her liveliness that had matured with understanding and radiated warmth to those near her.
She loved that he loved looking at her! There used to be times, it was when they were first engaged and married, she felt embarrassed by the way he looked at her. She could see the contentment and admiration shining through his eyes, but she had felt unequal to him. His uprightness, his superior characters, at times, had made her feel ashamed of her imperfections, but she had endeavoured to be worthy of him, and he had helped her overcome her sense of inferiority to him. The husband and wife had long become equals in every way – in their hearts, in their spirits, and in their love. And now, she no longer felt embarrassed when his loving gaze was upon her, but cherished how his sparkling dark eyes adored her, loved her, how his tantalising gaze caress every inch, every feature, every curve of her, and touched her soul.
She was melting under his sultry eyes! When a husband and wife who were as much in love as this couple, the desire in Emma for George was just as intense as his for her. Her yearning gaze was locked within his, and she had reached her hands for him, tugging invitingly at his nightshirt, and such invitation was all that was needed. Urgently, yet tenderly, he pressed himself against her, sank his famished lips deep onto her lips and let his masterly hand indulged in her sensuous person.
In the enthralling soundlessness of the chamber, punctuated by the intoxicating rhythms of their breathless kisses and the occasional pauses of their luscious exhales, the sweet atmospheric enchantment had sealed the lovers in their private Eden. His mouth had followed the magnetising drumming of her heart, leaving trail of kisses on her velvety eyelids, the corners of her honey mouth, the ticklish soft skin between the back of her ears and her silken long neck. His own heart hastened as his lips came near her heart, where he buried his enamoured kisses in the rising and falling of her heavenly bosoms. And when the insatiable desire within him surged, his hand, which had been rummaging every contour of his divine Venus, sought hurriedly the hem of her nightdress. As George impatiently discarding Emma's cotton nightdress to the unoccupied quarter of the bed, Emma's own dexterous fingers quickened to unfasten the buttons on George's nightshirt, desperate to remove the last barrier between them.
In the midst of their ardency, where there was only the husband and wife in their impassioned world, and all their senses were raptured for no one, nothing, but one another. They could hear the rousing heart of each other beating faster and faster, feel every movement of each other under their skin, and sense every muscle in them tightened by the touch of the other; it was little wonder that the breeze which brushed their entangled legs when the bed-curtains were lifted ajar had silently escaped the two lovers.
But when, suddenly, out of nowhere, without warning, so utterly unexpected – and – infinitely cruel, a voice abruptly pierced the enraptured silence of the lovers' world…
"Come off of Mama, Papa! You shall crush her… Come off, Papa… come off!"
As the voice of the child attacked Emma and George's ears, so were the small hands of the two-year-old attacking her father's back, pushing and pulling him away from her mama as she demanded.
Like a lightning bolt had struck a lone tree down to its roots, the little voice, the small hands – the violent shocks – instantly caused the husband to jump off of his wife, off the bed, to his feet!
"Grace!" Shocked, shaken, confused, but most of all – mortified. "What… What are you doing here?" George blurted out loudly, but not without first checking himself, and thanking, silently and wholeheartedly, the Almighty that his nightshirt was still largely intact on him, albeit his buttons had all been unfastened and couple of them were nowhere near sight!
Unfortunately, that was not the case with Emma…
The flickering candles, which the husband had purposely left burning so he could see and relish the full beauty of his wife and the gorgeous glow of her skin as their intimacy progressed, had afforded a clear view of his wife to their daughter.
Standing next to the vast bed with furrowed brows, "Mama, you shall catch cold!" the child cried disbelievingly.
Poor Emma, who bolted up sitting on the bed when George flew off of her, was frantically grasping whatever within her reach. As she was sitting on the bedcovers and her nightdress had been tossed to the far side of the bed by George, the mortified mother seized the crushed pillow behind her and threw it in front of her bare self.
"Grandpapa would not like that you are naked in your room, Mama…" uttered little Grace, wondering why it was so bad that she could not tell her grandfather that she ran with her protruding belly half-naked in her room when her mother was completely naked in her bed.
"DO NOT…" the poor mother panicked, but quickly checked the loudness of her voice, "Do not… please Grace… do not tell your grandfather!" she swallowed. "You know how… how it would worry your grandpapa if… if he knew that Mama might catch cold… do not you?"
Even though her father had fathered Isabella and her, knew all about the matter between a man and his wife, Emma would rather dig a hole and hide for the rest of her natural life in it than having her father picture what she and George were doing as husband and wife!
By this time, George had gone to the foot of the bed and fetched Emma's nightdress and her dressing gown and wrapped her tightly in it. He had also thrown his dressing gown over his shoulders and tightened the string round his waist.
"I shall not tell Grandpapa, Mama…" Surely, little Grace would never wish her grandpapa to worry. "But you must not play in your room without a dress again… Do you promise?"
"Of… of course, my dear!" Still mortified, but relieved, the mother said with a stiff smile.
George watched the crimson colour on Emma's face deepened, and he shared her embarrassment. But the exchange between his wife and daughter was singularly precious to him, and the blush on his lovely wife was too attractive for him to feel sorry for the situation. He stood amusingly by the bed, contented at the scene before his eyes, until Grace turned to look up at him and asked…
"Were you wrestling with Mama, Papa?"
"Huh…" The question caught the father by surprise, his own face coloured.
"You are too big, Papa!" said the little one, shaking her head, "Mama and Nurse would never let me wrestle with William!"
"You are not allowed to wrestle because it is most unladylike, Grace…" explained her father.
"And because I am too big for William!" little Grace knitted her brows, "Mama says I could crush him! You are too big for Mama, you know, you could crush her! You must not wrestle with Mama again, Papa!"
While their daughter was lecturing her husband, innocently of course, Emma had hastened to put on her nightdress and dressing gown. Though her cheeks were still pinked with embarrassment, she was amused by what her dear child had said to George.
How the father loved the innocence of his daughter! George bent and scooped Grace in his arms, smiling warmly, "Papa was not wrestling with your mother, Grace, and I promise that I shall always treat your mother with utmost gentleness and care," and he gave Emma a playful wink of an eye.
The two-year-old was satisfied and her furrowed brows eased.
But she succeeded immediately. "If you were not wrestling, what game were you playing with Mama, Papa?"
He should have seen this coming from his inquisitive child. So much like her mother – George chuckled inside – But how could a two-year-old comprehend the pure and sublime pleasure, blessed by matrimony and ordained by the Creator between a husband and his wife who were most ardently in love…
Placing Grace on his lap, he sat down on the edge of the bed next to Emma.
"You are too young to know this game, Grace," replied the father, and with gentleness and kindness and fatherly wisdom he said, "but when you grow up and married to a husband who loves you more than anything in this world, you will understand."
George turned his gaze to Emma, who was smiling adoringly at him, and her soft eyes were looking into his with admiration and deepest love. For a moment, the world had returned to being just the two of them. Emma slipped her hand quietly into George's free hand, leaning into him, pressing a tender kiss on his cheek and then another one on Grace's.
A beautiful silence held the husband and wife and their daughter for a moment, until a yawn broke out of little Grace.
"Why are you up at this hour, Grace?" curiously, the father inquired.
"I want Mama…" the droopy-eyed child replied.
"Where is Lucy?" her father asked.
"She is outside… I do not want Lucy…" the sleepy child shook her head, another yawn broke out of her. "I want Mama…" she said.
"The night after you left," Emma interposed, placing her hand on George's arm, "the thunders had awakened Grace, and she has been waking up at night since then…"
George clasped Grace close to him, resting her head on his shoulder and said softly into her ear, "Papa shall take you to your room and read stories to you…"
Rubbing her eyes with her small hands, Grace shook her head, "I do not want stories… I want Mama…"
"It is very late, Grace, your mother must be fatigued…" pleaded the father. "Papa will give you tickles…"
But that would not do for the two-year-old!
The irritable child pushed herself away from her father, "I do not want tickles, I want Mama… I want Mama to come!" and reached both hands unyieldingly for her mother.
Emma gently took Grace into her arms, "That night" speaking to George as she soothed the back of their two-year-old, "after the thunders woke her up, she cried for hours, and I held her in her bed until she fell asleep…"
"And she had been coming to you every night?" surmised George, Emma nodded slowly. "And you have been holding her to sleep every night since then?"
Emma nodded to George again, helplessness in her eyes.
George sighed, admitting to himself that perhaps what he and Emma started earlier that night would have to carry on the next night.
"I want you to come, Mama… Come…" tired tears were welling in the child's eyes; little Grace rubbed her face irritably against her mother's shoulder and cried.
"Yes, Grace, Mama is coming with you…" With their two-year-old in her arms, Emma removed herself from her and George's bed, the guilt in her eyes beckoned George to forgive her for leaving him for their daughter.
The husband smiled helplessly at his wife, escorted her and their daughter to their daughter's chamber, tucked both of them in the child's bed, and walked out of the room quietly, and lonelily, into the dark corridor. Slowly, he closed the door to the Master Chamber behind him, and sat down, alone, on the vast bed, trying to remember when was the last time he had spent the night in his own room…
A/N: It was with much trepidation that I posted this chapter. I felt that the content/concept might be pushing this chapter above the T rating, in fact, I rated this story T in anticipation of this chapter, but either I marked the story complete by end of last chapter or I stuck with what I had in mind to advance the story… I had been sitting on the draft of this chapter for probably good two months, I tried to cut parts of the scene but it wouldn't do (I needed it also for the rest of the chapter)… anyway, as I do like very much the rest of the story and this was written already, I thought I would continue with the hope that the scene would not offend anyone's sensibility…
Many thanks for reading; and many, many thanks for commenting! :-)
