A/N: Welcome back. Apologies for the long wait…Couldn't be helped.

An enormous thank you to: Makrciana, Bryan Cranston, MissMisc3, XantheXV, TinkerbellxO and dionne dance. You are all wonderful for sticking with me in this!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Libertine.

Chapter 10

'Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.'

~ Henry David Thoreau

September 5, 1665

She stepped outside. The heady scent of smoke and herbs was still prominent in the air. She could feel the smell burning her nostrils, she could feel her gown getting stained by the ashes and she turned her head towards the open field right next to the estate. Workers were hard at work in burning everything that was left of their beloved ones. Clothes, rugs, shoes, bed coverings that had been used way too much; even straw mattresses. The plague had been cruel, leaving very few families untouched even in the North.

Threading her fingers, she rested them on top of her stomach, her eyes still not moving away from the tearstained face of a mother who proceeded to throw a tattered ragdoll into the flames. The woman pulled back while wiping her eyes on her apron. Elizabeth watched as the woman's husband- Mr. Nichols worked for her father in their land-wrapped an arm around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. Their child was no older than ten when she had been snatched away from them because of the sickness.

A small body disturbed her heavy skirt and she looked down at the puppy who had only recently replaced her father's dead hound. Elizabeth took the opportunity to face away from the heart wrenching scene and reached down to pet the animal, giving him a good caress behind his ears.

"Fancy a walk, Jack?" she whispered down and the hound wiggled his tail wildly before he started running around her in circles. Laughing, she raised her hands up.

"Fine, fine. Come on. Shall we?" She started walking and the four-month old puppy followed her with enthusiasm. She couldn't say she blamed the poor thing. Her father was in no mood for outdoor activities lately. Her family, herself included, hadn't been out of their estate for months. They were all living in fear and she suspected that the situation wouldn't change in quite a while.

Jack ran ahead of her and she watched as he chased away one of the cats her mother kept around the house for protection against rats.

Stifling a laugh and realizing that she hadn't laughed in weeks, she clamped a hand over her mouth. She shouldn't laugh when such tragedy was still around them. True, the disease was slowly receding, the victims were fewer and the deaths were slowly, but gradually declining, but still. The danger was still hovering above their heads, looming and waiting to strike against weak people.

"Lizzie!"

She stopped and winced, waiting for the reprimand, but it never came. All she heard next was her mother's enthusiastic voice.

"Lizzie! There's a package for you!"

Pausing, she slowly turned around only to see Lady Hawley walking hurriedly towards her, a package in her hand.

Jack barked and started running towards Lady Hawley, misinterpreting her excitement as desire to play with him, but Elizabeth managed to catch him and loop his leash around his collar.

Lady Hawley gasped and stumbled back a little, "Oh, the little beast will be the death of me." she exclaimed breathlessly and Elizabeth allowed herself to roll her eyes.

"He is just a puppy. He's completely harmless."

Lady Hawley wrinkled her nose, "For now. Then he will be leaving his hair everywhere and-…Oh, my Lord. Your gown is full of hair. Disgrace." She shook her head, but Elizabeth was more interested in the package in her mother's hands.

"Is that for me then?"

Lady Hawley smiled, "Oh, yes! Adderbury has been most kind to us. Open it, Lizzie. Let's see what is inside."

Elizabeth looped Jack's leash around her wrist and then took the package from her mother.

Turning towards a stone bench that was on her right, she sat down and her mother followed her, conscious of the dog that made his perch on her daughter's feet.

Undoing the string, she let the plain dark paper fall on her lap. She opened the box and Lady Hawley exhaled with relief.

"More of the medicine! I swear the Countess must be a saint."

Elizabeth allowed her mother to take one of the bottles, but she was more interested in the letter that lay inside. Before she had the chance to reach for it, her mother snatched it and started opening it.

"Mother!" she exclaimed with shock, but Lady Hawley only waved her anger away.

"It's from the Countess. Not the Earl." She muttered and then paused, "While we are in this conversation, you have written him countless of letters. Have you received a reply?"

Elizabeth stiffened at that, "I imagine travelling upon a warship is not as easy as we might think. I don't even know if the letters have reached him-…"

"Ah, nonsense! It's the King's Fleet. How do they keep contact with the crown? Just admit that the Earl is more uncouth and even more reckless than you have expected." Her mother didn't look at her as she read the letter.

Elizabeth swallowed hard, ignoring how painful it was to pretend that the lack of responses didn't bother her. She was not quick to judge others though, unlike her mother who seemed to do only that.

"Well, Lizzie…" Lady Hawley started speaking in a hesitant tone, "The Countess is asking for our company in a few days." She looked down at her daughter, 'The King is returning to Whitehall and so is her son. She has acquired an official invite for us."

Elizabeth gasped, "London? The King is back?"

"Hmm, indeed. What is the matter? You have been loud in your protestations against him. Now he is back to Court to encourage his people to have faith." Lady Hawley folded up the letter and put it in her skirt pocket, "The plague has been a very harsh lesson for all of us."

"What kind of lesson, mother?"

Lady Hawley took a deep breath, "That our lives are not eternal. We are truly dependent on God's will. Your Lord must do well to remember that now that he will make it back home safe."

Elizabeth stood up, "I cannot disagree." She nodded her head and her mother smiled, "But the King must not pollute God's name with his tongue. He is not free of transgressions against him." She stepped back and tugged on Jack's leash, "You should compose a reply then, yes?" She left the package behind and slowly made her way inside, feeling her heart beating numbly inside her chest.

"Lizzie! Get back here!"

"I am not sure Papa will agree to follow us to London-…"

"That's just nonsense! It's the King's command."

Elizabeth nodded her head, "Sometimes I wonder if everything is the King's command." Her words however, were lost among the wind and smoke the farther she walked and her mother's response was lost in them as well.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Finally! Oh dear Lord. This was a stroll in hell's paths." Lady Hawley pressed her handkerchief against her nose and mouth as they walked towards the Great Hall. Elizabeth followed closely behind her and tried to keep her hands from curling around her skirt.

"Does it not bother you that Papa didn't come?" she asked and Lady Hawley paused.

"No. Unfortunately, Lizzie, your father doesn't recognize generosity when he sees it." She resumed walking and Elizabeth frowned.

"I beg your pardon? Generosity?"

"Of course!" Lady Hawley huffed, "He is ignorant."

"Of what exactly?"

Lady Hawley paused to curtsy in front of a Lord and Elizabeth copied her before she resumed her walk.

"The countess was most generous during this dreadful summer. I do seriously maintain my belief that we survived because of her weekly packages."

"You forget who gave the order." Elizabeth whispered in her ear as music started evading their senses.

Music seemed so ludicrous at times like these.

"I do not forget that. But, Lizzie, I do seriously doubt his ardor. It's been months."

"Mother-…"

"I know that he couldn't leave you so bare after committing such a crime against our family. You do realize how reluctant I am to allow you to be in public venues at the moment, no?"

Her mother's eyes were sharp and Elizabeth felt her face heating up.

"Nothing really passed between us-…"

"Now that is very fat lie, Lizzie." Lady Hawley leaned closer, "Do not speak unless addressed. It's a miracle we can show our faces after the disgrace his Lordship thrust upon us."

Elizabeth bristled, "I know he is not a kind man. I know that. You must not remind me that my affections might not even be reciprocated. Even the fact that he gave me this," She presented her mother with her ringed hand, "is proof enough of his understanding of what we call society. Now, who else would agree to marry a woman like me? After everything? We all know Lord Sheffield was only interested in me because of my breached honor."

Lady Hawley gaped at her, "Who would agree to marry a man like him is the actual question, Lizzie. I still cannot believe how easily you fell for his tricks." She straightened, "However, seeing as it is our only option and since you seem to be so bloody fond of a man who has done nothing but humiliate you, I can do nothing more but agree to this sham of a marriage…If it happens."

Elizabeth swallowed the lump in her throat as her mother continued digging a deeper hole inside her chest.

"I have to give his mother credit though. I think she shall be a wonderful and very supportive mother-in-law, sweetheart. Now, let's move along."

Elizabeth remained behind as her mother continued walking down the long hall. She only followed when she realized how insecure she was to tread in the palace alone.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Clank. Clank. Clank. Clank.

She continued clanking her knife against the plate. It didn't matter anyway. No one was listening or paying her any attention. The music was loud, the laughter too forced to be real and the discussions... Well, those were as arbitrary as ever. She couldn't blame them really. No one was going to discuss about the plague inside the King's court. The people were looking for entertainment, not another tragic story about loss, death and filth.

The victory against the Dutch had taken place a few months ago, but it was still the only thing discussed at Court. People tended to forget the great defeat at Bergen Harbor a little too easily. Of course. Naval offices and soldiers died for the sake of their country, but the King and his noblemen were the ones who took all the credit. Victories are for King's and defeats for soldiers. Of course.

"Miss Malet." A voice spoke her name and she stopped what she was doing. Looking up, she tried to hide her embarrassment at having been caught brooding away, and forced a small smile upon her lips.

"Countess." She acknowledged the woman who nodded her head politely in return.

"I feel most satisfied that you are well. I also feel the need to apologize."

The Countess was accordingly seated next to her, on her left, while her mother was seated to her right.

"Apologize?" Elizabeth straightened in her chair, trying not to cower under the woman's intense, calculating gaze.

"Indeed. I had written that my son would be here. Unfortunately for me he is as changing as the weather and I cannot fathom where he can be hiding most of the times."

Elizabeth fought the urge to inform her that she probably knew where her son was and smiled instead.

"You are very kind. The King's company is more than sufficient-…"

"My son is very tired." The Countess cut her off and she cleared her throat as she folded her hands upon her lap and tried to listen.

"I imagine you've heard about the unsavory defeat of August."

"Indeed, madam. I heard. I was most distressed, but I think we must thank God that the Earl is safe and sound."

The Countess took a sharp intake of breath, "Indeed." she muttered, "Indeed. However, I cannot say how much it has affected him."

Elizabeth's breath hitched, "Sir Edward died there, am I right?"

"Indeed, you are, Miss Malet. But my son is more affected by the way it all happened. He even added spiritual nonsense to the concoction of rumors." The Countess shook her head before she turned and fixed Elizabeth with a hard stare, "I do believe he is wandering the gardens if you'd care to know."

The words were plain and clear. It was not a suggestion. It was a command she had to follow. She had to wonder what made the Countess believe that she could be of any help to her son.

It would be comfort to you if you were to see him. Go.

Politely excusing herself, she pushed back her chair and with a tiny nod to the Earl's mother, she informed her mother of her desire to take some fresh air.

"I won't be long."

"But Lizzie, Lord Dorset's son wanted to dance with you-…"

"Mother. I said, I won't be long." She walked away, making her way through the dancing couples and jolly courtesans.

The Countess' eyes followed her with the exact same precision of a hound dog studying its prey.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

It didn't take her that long to locate her target. He was sitting on the ground like a small boy. Brown curls fanning his face, dark breeches, white shirt and a long dark red overcoat were completing his attire. He wore no wig and he seemed oblivious of the world. She knew the reason why. He was holding onto a goblet of wine and it was currently empty. Next to him, brushing against his thigh was a long bottle of wine.

What really alerted her of his presence was the blur of skirts that passed by her on her way towards that particular side of the maze. The courtesan seemed furious and her clothes were as tidy as ever if not a little too tempting.

Elizabeth gazed after the woman who passed by her while muttering in a way that sounded suspiciously like an actual growl. She had the urge to turn around and go. He seemed content enough in the company of strangers to seek her out.

She should leave him as he were; in his very obvious drunken misery, but she didn't.

Don't be a hypocrite. Her inner voice was loud and sharp and she wanted to ignore it. She wanted to lash out at him. Curse at him despite her manners. She wanted to scream that he was not the only one who has suffered loss in the last few months, but again she remained silent. She didn't want to remain silent and she didn't want to comfort a man who had given her only a few signs of affection, but…

Always the but.

Closed eyes opened and the liquid brown stare of the Earl found her own wet eyes. At first a small smirk, a barely visible one, grazed his features. She didn't know what to make of that particular smirk. Was it a condescending one? A mocking manifestation of her foolishness? A sign of joy? Or maybe a sign of sheer agitation. His smirks were never meant to be mistaken as kindness or warmth.

The smirk disappeared and a colossal sigh escaped his moist lips, his eyes fluttering closed once again, shutting her out and leaving her cold.

"Go away, Elizabeth." The words were not slurred. On the contrary. He seemed rather lucid. The acerbic tone in his words caused her to shudder. Her muscles clenched and she was very tempted to follow his command, because that's what it was; a command.

Her feet moved on their own accord and upon hearing the sound his eyes snapped back open. A scowl twisted his features into an angry mask of superiority.

"Obeying my commands already? How…unsavory." His eyes pinned her to the ground. So did his next words, "Has my mother turned you into her lapdog already? Was she the one who let you loose behind me? I swear she looks exactly like that hound your father had to shoot." His head lolled to the side, his cheek coming to rest right upon his left shoulder, but he never removed his eyes from her face.

She didn't know how to respond. She never had to endure such a behavior from his part before. Sure, he had always been proud and arrogant. He had always been as tempting as sin itself, but he had never been cruel to her.

"Worry is easily mistaken as hovering, my Lord. That much is understood. I won't ask the reason behind the tone in your voice. I am not interested to endure your wrongly directed wrath. What I was interested to know is that you're not missing any limbs. Now I am sure you're more than capable to walk on your own and my task is done. I assure you, I have no interest in becoming anyone's lapdog." She took a step back, but she couldn't leave before she added something else, "I also noticed that you have both hands intact. How odd. I had thought that you missed them both. I am glad I was proven wrong. I would also like to thank you for the medicine you provided us with…I see no reason why you felt you had to do it, but you have my gratitude." She turned on her heel, ready to flee, but a goblet smashing right next to her feet brought her to a sudden halt.

She gasped and stumbled backwards before she whirled around to face the suddenly enraged Earl.

"Damn you straight to hell!" he hissed and she flinched at his verbal attack, "I was thinking about you all the time when I was on that Godforsaken ship! And what do I receive in return? Hmm? Not even one single word. Nothing. You lied." She watched as his fingers curled around the neck of the bottle by his thigh and she swallowed hard.

"You're the one who's lying, my Lord. I have sent letters. More than I bear to count. Do not accuse me of deception when you're the master of it."

Rochester narrowed his eyes, his expression lost, confused and furious at the same time.

"Then you didn't send them properly, for I received none."

"Another lie. I did send them. Obviously we have both been deceived." Her fists curled by her sides.

"One thing I can be proud of is my ability to enforce the truth no matter the cost. You will not find lies here, Elizabeth."

"Likewise." She forced through gritted teeth and they stared at each other before he leaned back, bringing the bottle to his lips as he did so. His eyes studied her form from over the bottle and when he lowered the wine he smirked.

"You could just as well be seeing my ghost, you know." His words were a small whisper.

"Beg pardon?" she frowned and he gritted his teeth.

"I said that you might just as well be seeing my ghost!" he hissed, his eyes spitting fire.

"You're not dead, my Lord." She forced her voice to be gentle. She feared the insane glimmer swimming in his dark eyes.

Rochester shook his head, "No, no. I ought to be." He pursed his lips and gritted his teeth as if fighting the urge to vomit.

Elizabeth's anger went away and she started approaching him.

"God kept you safe, my Lord." She whispered as she brought herself down to her knees next to him.

"Do not talk to me about God." he hissed as he looked at her sideways, "God broke his promise."

"No, my Lord. God didn't break his promise. God kept his promise to me."

He looked up at her and snorted, "You're such a fool, my darling." He drawled and she frowned, "God chose to keep alive the one person who was most excited about death." He smirked, "But then again, I never was such an admirer of life."

"That is a lie." She shook her head, "You are one of the liveliest people I've ever met."

"Why yes, Elizabeth. I drink, I write, I gallivant with the King's Fleet and I shag more wenches than my prick can take. I am indeed a lively fellow." His lips curled in derision before he raised the bottle to his lips again.

Elizabeth was not impressed by his crude speech, "And yet you can get away with most things. Pray to God you're not a woman, my Lord. We're allowed such little freedom and most of the times we are humiliated because of that." She pulled back, ready to stand up, but his hand curled around her skirts. With a strong tug, she was next to him again.

"Can I get away with hurting you?" he murmured and for a moment she stopped breathing.

"It depends." The reply slipped out of her mouth without her consent and he abandoned the bottle to lean closer to her.

"The war with the Dutch is not over just yet. I might be ordered back." The words were quietly spoken, "Thus, I cannot arrange our marriage just yet."

Elizabeth paused, her mouth going dry, "It doesn't matter."

"It does to me." His hand slipped beneath her dress and trailed a path up her knee to her thigh. She clenched her legs in order to stop his wandering fingers from climbing too high.

"Who says I am going to say yes? My Lord." She added and his smirk was one of arrogance.

"Oh, my dearest Lizzie." His tongue flicked her jaw before he pressed a kiss there. She shuddered and her hand reached up to squeeze his shoulder.

"Don't you know? I have offended your honor. Who else is going to have you now?" he grinned against her jaw and she pulled slightly back.

"Lord Sheffield seems interested enough."

He cocked an eyebrow before he scowled, "Don't talk to me about that frigid codpiece."

She actually laughed, "Codpiece?"

"Indeed. He wouldn't be one if he actually had a pair." Rochester wrinkled his nose when she laughed even more, "I am glad you find my disdain entertaining, my love. Now, tell me something."

She stopped laughing when he managed to pry her thighs apart and used his palm to guide his hand upwards. She gasped.

"Have you missed me?" he breathed against her lips before he gently touched her lower lip with his mouth.

The taste of wine immediately assaulted her senses and she tried to move back from his questing fingers.

"My Lord." His mouth covered hers fully and she groaned when she was pushed right onto the moist grass of the palace gardens. She shuddered as the humidity started soaking her bodice, but she allowed to be mounted by his lithe form.

A hoarse grunt escaped his throat and she swallowed it as his hands came to rest on either side of her head. He supported himself up with his palms as he leaned further into the kiss. His nose bumped sharply with hers as he changed the angle of their lip lock and his fingers curled around strands of wet grass as her legs parted enough for him to settle in between them.

"I saw the courtesan leaving when I arrived." The words were murmured into his ear as his mouth teased her earlobe. She expected him to ignore her words or even mock her, but she did not expect to be laughed at with such delight.

"Fanny?" he breathed as he let his elbows handle most of his weight as he loomed above her, 'Fanny's an old friend. She was recently diagnosed with smallpox. Excuse me if I was kind enough to decline the offer of her skillful attentions."

Elizabeth sputtered and coughed beneath him to hide her shock and when his hips proceeded to grind hard against her she squeezed her eyes shut.

"I am expected back soon." She gasped as his tongue found her pulse spot. He didn't reply and continued his teasing by sucking her short earring into his mouth, gently tugging on it.

"I have the perfect solution to your problem, Lizzie." He murmured as he released her earring and travelled south. He moved one hand and slipped it between their bodies. Her skirt was bunched up around her thighs in no time and without disturbing her undergarments he moved his fingers to his own clothing. The flap of his breeches scratched her inner thigh as he freed himself and she gasped underneath him.

"You'll say you were lost." He murmured as he pressed himself against her so she could feel him hot and hard against her even through her undergarments, "And I'll gladly support that little white lie by claiming that I found you." His lips found hers and her hands clutched at his biceps as he started rolling his hips methodically against hers.

"We shall be seen." She gasped as his hand moved to curl around the base of her throat, "John-…"

"Let us be seen." The buttons of his overcoat were digging into the tender skin of her collarbone as he held her slender neck and she could feel herself flushing with color as his practiced hips picked up their rhythm. When his mouth came crashing down against hers, teeth clashed and chins bumped, but she didn't feel any pain. For once she stopped thinking and simply felt.

When they returned to the Great Hall together no one said a single word, but everyone knew it. The young heiress was surely, willingly and gladly doomed in the hands of the Earl of Rochester.

Lady Hawley could only stare with confusion at the healthy color on her daughter's cheeks. No one noticed the small blade of grass that was buried deeply into Miss Malet's complicated bun.

End of chapter 10

Author's note: Ahem, still here? Great! Thank you for reading!

A little info: Rochester had joined the Fleet in July 6 and was present in the Battle of Vågen (August 1665). The battle was between the Dutch and the English; English warships versus Dutch merchant and treasure fleet. The English lost even though they were more and several fleet members died or ended up injured. In that particular battle, Rochester, Edward Montagu and George Windham had a premonition of their deaths. Edward and George were deadly injured by the same cannonball while Rochester survived. Since that day Wilmot was plagued by nightmares and guilt because he was certain that he was supposed to be dead as well. That is not shown in the movie, but it is shown in the deleted scenes. I think he was friends with both men. Anyway, yeah. Just so you know that I am not making certain things up.

Ahem, comments are needed and appreciated!

Until next time!

Xxx Lina :D