DESIRE
& DUTY
by MEL
INTRODUCTION
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
TBC
DESIRE & DUTY
Chapter Nine
That's
enough nonsense Mrs. Starling! You'll be getting out of bed this
instant! Annie grabbed for the coverlet, but Clarice was quicker,
and a brief struggle ensued.
Annie I just don't want to be disturbed right now! Can you
understand that?
Look I don't know what happened ma'am but you've
been up here for a whole day, now please come downstairs and eat, or at
least let me draw you a bath!
Despite herself, Clarice had to relent and laugh a little at the scene.
Annie was flustered, looking close to tears even.
Very well, very well! I shall get out of bed but please stop trying
to steal my covers!
Yes ma'am, Annie sighed thankfully. I'll be
waiting for you in the bathroom.
Clarice waited till Annie had gone into the adjoining bathroom and lay back. She really should get out of bed and get a hold of herself. She had spent so many years being gun-shy, and the second she let down her defences she had made a mess of things. It was herself she should be mad at, she supposed, men will be men and all. Still, the hurt that she had felt upon immediately realising Lecter was promised to another, had since been replaced with something akin to anger, and she indulged it, all the more quickly to heal. He had fooled her quite thoroughly, seeming interested and charmed and genuinely attracted to her. Had she imagined all of that? No, she would give herself that much credit. With a resigned sigh she heaved herself out of the bed and into the bathroom. Annie had been chattering about a party at the Crawfords' residence for two days now, and she supposed she could not avoid all company indefinitely. In fact, she meant to look her best, and smile down upon him, and refuse to have anything further to do with him. Then maybe he would come to his senses and ditch Rachel. No, no, no! Then he would come to his senses and beg her forgiveness and she would laugh coldly and send him off to a pedestrian life with his chosen one. She smiled grimly at her own posturing, ridiculous though it was at least she was beginning to feel more like herself. She would simply smile and carry on, as she always had.
A few short hours later she descended the stairs in her best dress of shimmering cream silk, her hair an elaborate creation of Annie's. The dress was deeply décolleté in an empire fashion, and narrower than she was used to, but, she was assured, the very height of style. A few cards lay on the tray by the front door, the last two days' visitors, she supposed. Curious, she thumbed through them. One was Jack Crawford, one Rachel DuBerry, and two were Dr. Hannibal Lecter. She resisted the impulse to seize the card and conceal it in her dress close to her heart. Thoughtfully, though, she stowed it in her purse and resolved to return it to the gentleman as closure of their relationship.
The journey to Marylebone
was but a short carriage ride north, and Clarice alighted in front of
the Crawfords' London residence with no less nerves than when she
had set out. It was in a blur that she took the steps and was separated
from Annie, her maid to head downstairs with the staff and herself to
be led to the drawing room, where the evening's guests were gathering.
She fully intended to breeze into the room and make herself a conversational
attachment with somebody innocuous looking, and avoid seeing or speaking
to Dr. Lecter for the duration of the festivities. Unfortunately, the
first thing she was drawn to gaze upon as she was shown in, was a pair
of deep red-hued eyes that lit at her appearance and refused to let her
gaze drop. She felt, for an idiotic instance, a little unsteady of feet
and will, but determined, brought herself back to some semblance of composure
and raised her head and continued to look at him down her nose, as it
were, unsmiling. The smile that had tugged at the corners of his hitherto
enjoyed mouth died away to be replaced with an impenetrable stony façade.
She stared right back, boldly, unfriendly. There, she thought,
now you wonder and hurt too. The curious tilt of his head and slight
furrow of his brow should have worried her, but before she could take
in his mien her gaze was interrupted by Rachel DuBerry approaching and
taking her hand to shake vigorously. Absurdly grateful of the distraction,
Clarice allowed her attention to fall directly on Rachel and block all
others out.
He is here! Rachel squeaked quietly, her eyes aglow, Did
you see?!
Yes, yes I saw, you must be so pleased! Clarice tried to be
genuinely happy for the woman.
It is the first time we have managed to converge at the same engagement
in some time. The last time I saw him was at the Vergers' property
several weeks ago.
Oh you know the Vergers? Clarice seized upon the alternate
thread of discussion.
Oh yes. How do you know them?
I met them at Lowingham during the summer. Tell me, is Mason Verger
a man of the cloth? Or his ancestors perhaps?
Rachel let out an unladylike snort.
Whatever gave you that idea?
Um, his name, I suppose. Verger – is that not a church position?
It may well be, but that man would be the worst possible parody
of a man of the cloth. What a ghastly thought! Poor Alice.
Alice seemed quite happy when I met her.
Well, I can believe that she does not see what is going on under
her nose; not exactly academic, that girl. And to think that when he married,
people said he was the one who would be cuckold by his pretty young wife.
Rachel laughed sourly.
I see. Clarice filed the information away. She felt it redundant
to ask why they had married. Men like Verger were common in her neck of
the woods too. Rich and influential, he had his pick of partners, and
settled for the prettiest and the densest. A stamp of domesticity to hide
his vices behind. Poor Alice indeed.
So Clarice, did I tell you about my little rendezvous at the Vergers'
place?
No, I don't believe so, Clarice gratefully accepted a
glass of wine proffered by a besuited waiter. I thought your relationship
was of the utmost secrecy?
Oh it is, but you know a girl can't live on promises! I have
more need of him than I could ever have dreamt possible. She inhaled
a controlling breath; Clarice tried not to look miserable. Oh but
hush now, for here is Frederick.
Clarice was obediently silent on the subject as she was introduced to
one Mr. Frederick Lounds, man of letters and correspondent to The Standard.
Mr. Lounds bowed exaggeratedly over her hand. He smiled
with yellowing teeth and his eyes travelled all over her person without
apology.
On the contrary, Mr Loudnds, I am a mere Mrs or ma'am,
Clarice spoke pleasantly to him. I believe I read of you in the
paper earlier in the week.
Ah yes, those dreadful murders. Between you and me ma'am,
he leaned in as if telling a great secret, I don't hold much store
in them police to get the bottom of this. I think I'm close though.
He winked.
Oh, well good for you, she said in what she hoped was an encouraging
tone, truthfully wishing she could encourage him away, when his
attention was caught across the room and he was mercifully extracted from
their company for the time being.
Come, Clarice, Rachel took her arm and gently guided her to
a sofa partially obscured from the rest of the room by a large oriental
silk screen. If we wait here we may get a visit from you know who
shortly. Oh I hope he deigns to say hello!
It was after Clarice sat down in the relatively private corner that she
realised just who the visitor would be. Too late to excuse herself she
instead half-emptied her wine glass and steeled herself. A shadow passed
the screen and a gentleman edged around it to sit down. Clarice took a
deep breath and prepared to be civil to her former interest, but was surprised
by a tall, dark complexioned man of around 30 or so, who slid into the
seat next to Rachel without introduction.
Well hello sir! Rachel acted happily surprised. Allow
me to introduce you to Mrs. Clarice Starling.
How do you do, he murmured and shook hands.
Clarice, this is Mr. Henry Lounds, brother of our industrious Frederick.
How do you do, Mr Lounds, she responded. She was spared the
invention of further platitudes when Mr Lounds, junior she assumed, bent
his head quite freely to Miss DuBerry's and whispered in her ear,
his lips most definitely brushing her neck and shoulder. When his hand
descended upon her leg, Clarice swallowed in surprise and conscientiously
looked away, studiously avoiding the spectacle. Was nobody in this town
whom they appeared to be, she thought desperately? Was everybody she had
been introduced to a duplicitous wretch of the lowest order? How could
Rachel carry on like this with her proclaimed lover in this very room?
The questions swarmed in her mind, and she could honestly avow that she
had not felt quite so out of place and time in her life. Damn this country,
she thought in a fit of anger and frustration. She should never have come.
Rachel was using her quite ill to have her witness this and be seen to
condone it by any who espied them.
Henry Lounds you are incorrigible! giggled Rachel from beside
her, quite oblivious now to anybody else in the universe. Wryly Clarice
conceded that Rachel had good taste, Hannibal Lecter aside, Henry Lounds
was definitely the brother of choice in that family. The initial
thought and slow dawning of realisation felt like cold water down Clarice's
back. Hannibal Lecter. Henry Lounds. HL.. Her breath
stopped and she closed her eyes and allowed her face to fall slack as
she owned the stupidity.
she said weakly, not looking up.
Yes? Yes Clarice? her friend answered a little absently.
Do you mean to confirm to me that Mr Lounds here is your paramour?
Why yes, what did you think I . Um, yes Clarice, Rachel's
attention suitably occupied Clarice rose to her feet to immediately seek
out the Doctor. She paused before emerging from behind the screen, wondering
what on earth she could do now. She had ignored his visits for two days
following their first closeness, their first kiss – oh the kiss!
Clarice felt her heart pitter-pat at the once-more-welcome memory. And
then she had eyed him in a most hostile manner and rebuffed his warm welcome
her recollection caught on the look on his face as she had contemplated
him so frostily. She shivered slightly; now she felt a little afraid.
She would be emotionally wrung if she continued with this up and down
much longer, she knew. Forcing herself back into the fray, as it were,
she stepped out from the corner and perused the room, desperately seeking
him out. Her gaze travelled over some two dozen guests, some she could
place and many she could not, but no Dr. Lecter. She should make her apologies
to Bella and be on her way. There was no pleasure to be had here anymore
this night.
Out in the hallway
there was nobody to be seen, and rather than make a ruckus she went in
search of her coat herself. This floor featured only the door the the
cellar and the drawing room. She had seen the butler carrying coats upstairs
earlier and so took off up to the next floor. The landing was dark, the
only light being that shining upwards from the brightly lit entrance hall
below. She made towards the first open door which stood in darkness. As
she reached the threshold she had a sharp sensation of being watched,
and at a sound close behind her, whirled in surprise. She did not see
who accosted her as he stepped deftly with her whirl and finished behind
her once again, to clap a hand to her mouth and pull her backwards into
the darkened room. She heard the door thunk shut and a click as it locked,
leaving her in pitch darkness. Her eyes opened wide as she strained to
see.
What do you want? she said quietly, feeling around her for
something to orient herself to. She took a step back into a firm object,
thigh height, her questing hands assured her it was a bed, topped as far
as she could tell, with numerous coats and cloaks. Right room at least,
she thought for an ironic second.
What do you want? the voice echoed back to her, almost a whisper.
My coat, she said coldly, trying to fasten on the location
of the voice in the darkness. Over by the door still?
Do you know who I am? the voice spoke into her ear and she
jumped in fright and her heart began pounding. No, not by the door. She
tried to back away but ended up sandwiched between the bed and what must
be a night stand.
I don't care to know who you are. Please, what can I do for
you?
You don't care to know me? the voice mocked. He was right
in front of her now and she still could see nothing but inky blackness.
That voice her fear-addled mind could not make the connection. She
could not listen for cues with the blood rushing in her ears, could not
see for the pitch darkness. Then it came to her, a scent familiar.
Dr. Lecter? she said fearfully, not wanting especially to
be right.
Yes my dear.
I – I words, pathetically, failed her.
Ah yes, I see we are on the same page. I thought we had gotten on
so well?
We did! she breathed. Oh but –
Did something happen? Did somebody say something to you Clarice?
What? No! the hint of accusation in his voice bewildered her.
Not directly her hands cast out to locate him but found
no purchase. I'm afraid it was a stupid misunderstanding,
she said miserably. Abruptly tired she dropped her hands and closed her
eyes. A stupid misunderstanding. I thought you were
Go on, his voice a modicum gentler this time.
I thought you were courting Rachel DuBerry. She mumbled. Silence
greeted her, she could not read the quiet for his mood. The absence of
all clues as to how she should proceed was crippling. She felt like crying
out of sheer weakness. She came to visit, and, well, she paused
to mentally review the meeting, perhaps to scramble an excuse, but no,
he deserved more than that. She said some things and II assumed
too much. When yet more silence greeted her, she almost wailed into
the darkness: I'm so sorry, you did not deserve such treatment
as I greeted you with! You were the, she bit back a small self-pitying
sob, perfect gentleman. Her voice trailed off to a whisper.
The last word was
almost inaudible. So would he leave now? He had his answer, the truth
he was entitled to. As she began to entertain the notion that he had simply
evaporated already, she felt his presence close in on her. Slowly but
firmly he pushed her backwards, she protested as she descended upon the
bed, to lie prone beneath him. Her fear still lingered. Had she angered
him? Her eyes were wide, unseeing, her hands pinned uselessly to the bed.
She tested his resolve and found his grip to be iron-strong. She swallowed
heavily, quelling her fright now abandoned as a hopeless case. She gave
in to the fear and a tear escaped one eye. She started in shock as she
felt his tongue on her face, the tear lapped away, but still he said nothing.
She strained against his hold and felt her body brush against his, angled
above her. Her involuntary sharp intake of breathy pleasure surprised
her as much as it surprised him it seemed, for she thought she heard him
smile. From stupefying inaction to glorious and terrifying motion in a
split second, she suddenly found her mouth ravaged by his and his knees
forcing hers apart. As their mouths clashed together, she felt all restraint
leaving her and did not attempt to summon it back. He freed her hands
so his could descend upon her. Where his lips had been soft and gentle
before, now they were insistent and hungry; where his hands had been chaste
and unassuming, they now took free license to explore her person. Her
own response was as libertine, welcoming his weight upon her, opening
her lips beneath his, glorying in the teeth perceptible in his rough attentions.
Her hands locked in his hair and she pressed his mouth to hers, the absolute
darkness providing her with courage beyond reason. She felt the testimony
of his masculine pleasure and felt her own swelling response take heart.
She keened into his mouth and he seemed to swallow her pleasure greedily.
For her own part, Clarice knew she would not deny him now, but his passion
seemed to grow controlled, and coming back from a dizzying whirl, Clarice
once more doubted that she was forgiven.
Doctor I'm sorry, she offered quietly,
suddenly embarrassed.
You apologised graciously my dear, he responded at length.
His lips brushed hers and she almost wept with relief. I am
merely becoming conscious that we are in a most public place, his
voice remained low and dusky with what sounded to Clarice like arousal.
My home is nearby They both contemplated the situation
for a moment.
It would be unseemly for a lady to be gone an entire evening Doctor.
She voiced the truth quietly. When his only response was to hmm'
agreement, she added, I was simply suggesting that my abode might
be just as suitable.
TBC