My Darling Love

Chapter 48 – The Sanctity of the Hall Closet

"After all these years, I see I was mistaken about Eve in the beginning. It is better to live outside the Garden with her, than inside it without her."

-Mark Twain

Unlike the other times when the George of London returned, there was no galloping in to save Mary with a chariot of love and devotion. Instead, this time, the good George, lost in his own disillusionments of his manhood, hid behind the empty threats made by the Evil George. In his right mind, he could not fathom the rage that devoured his heart. He loved his wife, his children, his children's children and more importantly, his whole life, all of which, he still had, thanks to Mary Elizabeth. He had no explanation for his actions, well, none of which made sense to him or anyone else for that matter. Thus, he felt himself unworthy to save the day and decided it best be left up to someone else.

A cowardly king indeed, as his memory of the way it was supposed to be returned, sporadically, as he noticed the differences in his wife's routine, he made the tiniest changes, giving Mary more and more freedom as time went on, although to his continued dismay she never exercised them.

It would have been better to valiantly hand his wife an entire olive tree uprooted from the earth and beg for her forgiveness, that is what God in heaven looking down wanted. But alas, George was himself confused about what had truly occurred, and fearful a bold display of his sorrows would only make matters worse, as it had been a bold display of his malice that brought them to where they were now. Therefore, he only threw single solitary olives at Mary when the opportunities were presented.

"Mary, my love, you've been stuck in the house for weeks. Sweetheart, you can go out whenever you want, just please tell me where you are going." Now he only wanted to know; out of fear that her destination would give her an escape to another world, away from him. Mary was not allowed to speak to him unless he addressed her under Satan old rules, thus she never left the house.

Harry demanded George speak up and alter something, for his sister-in-law would either commit suicide by starving herself to death or drop dead quite naturally of exhaustion. "George, she doesn't eat, and when she does she vomits from the nervous knots in her stomach expelling the food. She has not slept in days, more likely weeks, because she finds no comfort in sleeping with the enemy. You are the man of the house, the king of your castle, DO SOMETHING!"

In all their years of marriage, George was still clueless regarding his wife's favorite food. But he did know her sleeping habits. As it had been their entire marriage, when George would take to snoring loudly, Mary would get up and sleep on the sofa in the parlor if need be. Not to mention the times when their marriage was not right, she would sleep away from him to find peace. So that was the change he made, "Mary, Sweetheart, you don't have to sleep in bed with me, if you prefer the sofa."

It sent a mixed message to his wife and it showed now in the hope and fear mingled on her face. Mary wanted to ask whether he meant he wanted her to reassure him, since sleeping in the bed with her husband, wrapped in his loving arms is where she preferred, or was he blatantly telling her to leave him to the bed alone? Or maybe, just maybe, he was only testing her memory of the devil's rule. "You will go to bed when I tell you and you will rise when I tell you."

Harry pinched George's leg under the table and grimaced at his baby brother, indicating George was to provide clarification. The pain in his leg and the annoyed glance to Harry, who seemed to have replaced George as Mary's personal bodyguard, made him blurt angrily, "You have to sleep, Mary, so as soon as you are done with your work, you will go to bed. And if sleeping on the sofa instead of bed will ensure your slumber, then you are to sleep on the sofa or anywhere else in the house where you feel comfortable and can find rest, dearest love."

As a result, Mary's only time of solace came in the hall closet. After she hid there following the attack, she cleaned it and left only her one coat inside. And there, after the children were in bed and her duties as assigned by her husband were completed to his liking, alone in the dark with the door closing the rest of the world away Mary would sit and listen. Most mornings, George would find his wife asleep, still in the closet. She would be wrapped in a blanket, sitting in an upright position. George felt it best to leave her undisturbed so he would gently close the door. Thinking better of it once, he lifted her and carried her up the stairs to their room. A dagger with a shiny golden blade fell out from the blankets when he placed her upon the bed. Jewels adorned the handle, and George caught sight of the engraving. Unacquainted with its true meaning, but having his own ideas about it, he never bothered her there in that safe place again.

"Mary's to bed George," Harry muttered sarcastically as Mary, finished with her daily tasks as wife, mother and slave, hid herself away inside her sanctuary while he and George sat in the parlor reading the paper. "Give it to me, George, to squash the temptation to thrust it into your heart." George handed Harry the dagger, for he kept it himself, afraid his wife might think to use it. Harry turned to see the markings upon it,

If the Heart Offends Thee Dearest, Cut It Out.

"Has she asked for it back?" Harry asked, testing the sharpness of the blade.

"No, Mary never asks me for anything. She never says anything at all, not even my name. If our father was alive, he would tell me shake some sense into her, but I could never do that, it would only make it worse. It's not so much her silence that bothers me, as the look in her eyes when I see myself in them. Mary, my only love, thinks me a monster."

Harry flipped the page in his paper after laying aside the dagger on the end table beside him, "And rightfully so, George, I told you many times that, to her, you are a monster, a beast, Satan, Lucifer, Beelzebub, pick one. A light slap on the cheek would have done the trick, and it would have been easily rectified. But to lose your temper and your mind enough to punch and boot her in the stomach when she's already down, already in retreat, that is unforgivable." Harry cared very deeply for Mary, since the moment he met her when she was a fair young sprite of seventeen to the time of her encouragement and acceptance of him so much later. He laid aside the bottle, and even now would only indulge in a glass of wine with dinner on special occasions, all of this, just for her.

"Just out of curiosity, have you made love with her since you whored her out?"

George spit out his tea with his brother's words, and choked on his tongue trying to formulate a rebuttal. He was never good in confrontations when in his true self, and as he turned to see his brother Harry, his face betrayed him. So instead of railing against his baby brother, Harry said something else, cruel still, but not as nasty as he could have been. "No, George, I didn't. I never liked putting it in a woman that bore a child, let alone children, especially those belonging to my brother."

Harry flipped the paper straight and went back to reading but persisted with, "Well?" George nodded with humiliation that he had, "And?" Harry impatiently wanted the details.

George got up and removed his glasses, rubbing his face and reaffixing them on his nose. "I just want to be close to her again, like we once were. It seems that is the only way she will let me touch her." He strolled over to the front window and gazed out.

"Well George, do you have to force her? Does she just lie there and say nothing or does she cry the entire time? What?" Harry offered some help to lessen the look of distress on George's face.

Finally George answered, "I've always asked her first if she wants to, you know women get weary after a long day of housework, cooking and children. She used to answer me with a kiss that told me I didn't have to ask. Now she answers me by..."

Harry stared at the back of George's head the suspense what killing him, "What does she say?"

"She doesn't say anything. She just takes off her nightgown."

Harry was on the edge of his seat; he placed his paper and pipe down and walked up to his brother. "And?"

"I tell her what I want, you know, what position, and she does it without complaint or question. Once I even chose a way I know she doesn't care for because she told me the one time we tried it, it hurt her. I was hoping she would at least protest, and remind me how sore it made her. She only bit the pillow in preparation. I'm not a loathsome cretin so before I began I switched her to a position I knew she enjoyed. She still said nothing. I always tell her to tell me she loves me and she always forgets. When I remind her to tell me she loves me, she says she's sorry she forgot to, but still doesn't say it."

That was it, end of story.

Mary always apologized for her wrongs, all her life. Only now she ended every sentence with it, apologizing for some miniscule error that only a tyrant would think as an unforgivable mistake. "Yes George, I will make the roast goose for Christmas dinner and I'm sorry I haven't finished washing the dishes yet." Or worse yet, "No, George, the mail has not arrived yet and I am sorry that you are made to wait for it."

When something happened that was indeed her fault, her apology was followed by a detailed justification of her misjudgment. "I'm sorry I didn't purchase enough potatoes to make home fries for breakfast like you told me to, but I only had enough money to buy either the baking flour for the Christmas cookies or the correct amount of potatoes for dinner and breakfast. I thought the children would be terribly disappointed without cookies on Christmas Eve to leave for Santa, so I only got enough potatoes to make for supper. I'm sorry, George, that I didn't consider that you would be disappointed at breakfast. I should have asked you first. I'm sorry."

There his wife stood in the kitchen on the morning of Christmas Eve, her cooking interrupted with his casual observation that they were having eggs, bacon and toast, which was fine with him, instead of eggs, bacon and home fries for breakfast. George wanted desperately to comfort her; she looked scared out of her wits at his perceived incoming reprimand. He moved to her, wanting to hold her close and implore her to not be so afraid and anxious all the time. He wanted to tell her he loved her more than himself, and if given the chance, not only would he take back his hands from her body in rage, but cut his own heart out for offending her delicate soul. He would be her blessed protector and defender and she would never need to fear anyone else, least of all him, for the rest of her life. He stepped forward to her, and she literally did as he feared, and lost her wits, wetting herself.

Too late it was to hide from the children that came running down the stairs. Mary stood in a pool of urine that collected at her feet. Instinctively she grabbed a rag from the sink and began wiping the mess with the innocent babies gazing wide-eyed at their parents. George also dropped to his knees and with a cloth napkin began to soak up his wife's mess. "I'm sorry, I was trying to hold myself to get breakfast finished, I knew you would be angry if you were made to wait, please don't hit me, George," she cried as she worked quickly. George was speechless as he thought that this was a bed he should have set ablaze before lying in; and gagged on his own-knotted stomach.

"Children, go back to your rooms. I will bring up your breakfast in a few minutes," George instructed with his head down, trying to keep from vomiting.

"WE WANT MAMA!" Jane shouted.

Mary, trying to deflect what she saw as George's fury and disgust at her, responded, "Children, do as your father says right now, please."

Mary and George stood at the same time, and as George went to embrace her and offer her some sort of act of contrition, he saw she had regained her obedient and terrified stance of submission before him. He gently touched her cheek to raise her face, for he desperately missed looking into her eyes. Mary knowing his next move would be to give her a good whack for not having a big enough bladder, scrunched up her face with her eyes shut tightly to brace herself for the impact.

And now finally with this, George threw up.

It was at this moment that John came in, as his father began dry heaving, with Mary standing above him, urine soaked rag in her hand, crying like a baby. "Mother, you go on to your room, I'll stay with father and clean this all up," he said, stupefied by what he was seeing, and Mary turned on her heel and went directly into the hall closet. John watched her, confused by her destination, and helped George stand. "Why is mother in the hall closet? What is going on here?" he asked, as George washed his mouth out in the kitchen sink, still hacking and coughing.

John finished making the breakfast, and took it to the children. George bathed in the washroom and put on clean clothes. As the Darling Triplets were taken to visit a friend of John's, George gently tapped on the closet door in the hall and recommended Mary also tidy her appearance. He put his ear to the door and listened, when she did not respond, he opened it only a little and peered inside. Whoever it was that he assumed was Mary, pulled the door shut quickly and whispered a warning "If you wish to keep your right hand, I would leave well enough alone."

George fell upon the door and began to cry, "I'm sorry, Mary, I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Have mercy on me, I am truly sorry. Please cut my heart out. Please. I beg of you, please cut my heart out, if I am deserving of it." A muffled voice -- dare we say muffled voices -- conversing back and forth could be heard from the inside. The door slowly creaked outward and Mary emerged. She took to the stairs and ran up into the washroom. After only a few moments she fled the bathroom to her bedroom and stayed there until the children returned home.

The children returned, and Mary descended the stairs and returned to the kitchen to cook dinner and bake cookies. The children played in the nursery with their Uncle John, as they called him, and Uncle Harry took a nap in the attic. Wanting some sort of normalcy to return to his castle, George brought his paper into the kitchen and sat at the table reading while Mary made her cookie dough and peeled potatoes.

"Mary, would you make me some tea please?" In no more than a minute a teacup with tea, just the way George preferred was placed in front of him. He stopped reading and looked up to watch his wife, she worked, nervously dropping things, continually stopping her duties with a need to think of what comes next in her task. Forgetful of the towel necessary when handling hot pans, she pulled a cookie sheet from the oven without one, burning her fingers.

George rose to aid her, insisting she run her hand under cold water, and then rest on the kitchen chair for a moment. He sat down across from her and stared at her. George instinctively began stuttering an apology for causing her to lose control of her bladder from fear of him. Mary had now changed into a statue and stared at the blisters forming on her fingers, nodding to him without hearing his words. He knew this, and checked his pocket watch for the time. It was already late in the afternoon, the goose was finished, and the dishes were prepared, with just the potatoes to be boiled and the cookies awaiting the oven, Mary's job for now was done. Angry with himself that even his slightest touch made her cringe and cower, George dismissed her to her room to rest and dress for supper. "See that Harry bandages your hand, dearest. I hope it is not painful and does not ruin this joyous evening for you." She nodded and ascended the stairs straight to her room.

Mary now closed the door and locked it behind her. She did not see the pirate captain lying in his holiday best dressed on her bed, "A very Happy Christmas Eve to you, Madam."

Mary whipped her body around, dumbstruck, surprised to find him in her room. "What are you doing in here, do you know how much trouble I will be in if he finds you here?!"

Hook smiled and said, through hearty laughter that Mary shushed frantically, "Gwendolyn used to say the same thing, but no one can see me except you, silly goose." As if to prove his words, Uncle Harry knocked on her door, and gained access to check on Mary's hand. Captain Hook removed his fancy coat and boots and stretched out with his hand and hook behind his head on Mary and George's bed. Mary watched him as he began singing a Christmas carol while unbuttoning his shirt to expose his broad tanned chest. He smiled amorously, winking to her and waving, as Harry turned toward the bed to see what ever it was that Mary was staring at.

His entire body was well toned and tanned, as Mary was already aware. He disrobed further until he was completely nude with the exception of the contraption that held the hook to his right arm and strolled behind her. Right in front of George's brother, Harry, Hook licked her neck.

It gave her goose bumps from head to toe, and that -- and only that -- Harry noticed. "Are you cold Mary, maybe you wrap yourself in a shawl, don't want you getting sick on the holiday."

Her shawl, which hung on her vanity chair, was now wrapped around Captain Hook's waist as he sat on her chair and rummaged through her vanity table. He had already attempted to comb his long curly locks with her brush, but discarded it when it got caught on the many knots he had within his hair. "Mary," Harry said to gain her attention from whatever it was she was staring at by her vanity, "your shawl, Mary, you are cold." She pointed to the vanity where it rested in an odd manner on her chair, and Harry rose and pulled it from the seat.

It gave him a lot more resistance than it should have, just lying on her chair and he actually fell over when Captain Hook stood and allowed it to be stripped from his body. Again he was nude, and he moved causally to her wardrobe and opened it. The wardrobe door creaked open and Harry stood and closed it only to have it open again when an annoyed Captain Hook swung it back so. "Dearest Madam, tell this imbecile to leave already," Captain Hook offered, as he began flipping through her hangers.

"Harry, I wish to take a nap, do you mind leaving me to it?" Harry shook his head, draping the shawl over her shoulders. Before departing, without ever seeing the pirate captain naked in her room, Harry leaned in and gently brushed his lips to Mary's, resting his head on her shoulder when their kiss was complete.

Mary closed her eyes and licked her lips to regain her composure. "Hm, interesting. I wonder what was that about, Madam?" Captain Hook turned round and gave her his full attention as Harry quietly closed the door.

Captain Hook was not the only other man she had seen completely nude and although they all, George, Harry and Captain Hook, had similar faces with the same features, that was where the resemblance ended. Hook turned to face her, giving her a better look at what she was curious about, and she stunned him into a chuckle when instead of blushing like she always did, she grinned in appreciation, changing the subject with, "Impressive posture for a pirate captain, especially in this light. You should stand around naked more often."

Mary placed her shawl back on her chair, feeling the room suddenly quite warm, and straightened everything Captain Hook had left in disarray. He, on the other hand went back to searching her closet, and then to George's wardrobe, still nude, jeering and snickering at all of the proper suits and ties that were neatly placed on hangers within. "Does your king really wear this stuff?" he asked, now looking at a sweater vest he pulled out and began to put on.

"Rather uncomfortable and itchy." He smirked, taking it off and flinging down on the ground without care. Next, he removed a bathrobe, George's favorite, and put it on. "That's better." He whispered as he strolled back to her bed and tapped lightly on her side for Mary to join him.

She picked up George's sweater and replaced it before lying down beside him, now glaring at him simply because he was still there. "I distinctly remember telling you to meet me only in the hall closet, and not in here. How did you get in here anyway?" Mary began.

"Your king's house has many doors, Madam, and you are not in the hall closet. You did ask for me, did you not?"

"I most certainly did no such thing. I spoke with you before, and you told me you could offer me no aid now." Mary rose and placed her hands on her hips. "You know I am old enough to be your mother."

That too made Captain Hook laugh and he corrected her jokingly with, "If you were old enough to be my mother, Madam, that would make you... well...dead, dearest."

Mary rolled her eyes at his sarcasms, and he continued, "You asked for me earlier in the closet and I told you I couldn't help you now, but I would see you later. This is later. You were thinking about me when you came up to have your hand mended and dress for your holiday supper, even if you did not ask for me by name, Madam. Or were you thinking about your brother-in-law? Well, no matter, and since I was bored and alone, I figured what harm would a little afternoon delight do?"

Mary was a woman nearing fifty, although her face and body could have put her a decade behind that number. Captain Hook was an adult, but had not aged even a second since the first time she laid eyes on him in her own dreams years earlier. She sat back down and touched his cheek gently, making him close his eyes and lift his face to her to give her a better position. "Why don't you age?"

He didn't answer her, only clutching her hand to bring her closer to him on the bed. He tried for a kiss, but she yanked herself back, "I told you, I am not the fair maiden Gwendolyn. I am a married woman who has raised three children and have three more still to bring up. And I don't play children's games, especially not with a pirate captain."

Captain Hook was outright weary of her constant repetition of things he already knew, "Must you always say the same thing every time we are together, Madam? I know who you are and who you are not. I know what you are and what you've done and what you still feel compelled to do. Can we just once forget the formalities and get on with it?"

Mary exhaled deeply and crossed her arms and raised her brow in annoyance.

Captain Hook pouted, like a baby who just had a tasty piece of candy taken from his hands. "Just one kiss, please?" He leaned toward her, and gazed flirtatiously into her eyes, the pleading was there when he brushed his lips to her hand and ran his nose from her shoulder up to her ear to catch her scent. "Pretty please," he whispered as he subtly moved alongside of her and eased her down on her back, unfolding her arms and placing them around him. Those blue eyes, so much like George's that they made her belly tingle as he began gently placing teasing kisses over her cheeks and chin. He maneuvered his head to lightly steal a kiss from her lips, but then pecked her nose instead. He was always very polite in his seduction when his intended partner was unwilling, rape was a harsh offense to woman of Mary's station, so he asked as he rolled his eyes towards to ceiling, "Pretty, pretty please. May I have just one kiss? It's Christmas Eve!" He looked at her, trying to seem harmless, and then smiled lovingly and awaited her response.

"It is never just one kiss where you are concerned," Mary responded, as he changed his expression to bashful making his intended lover giggle like a schoolgirl.

"Oh madam, you know me all to well." He leaned down to her and placed a very passionate kiss upon her lips. He finished before she did, when he pulled away and wiped his mouth with repulsion.

Mary opened her eyes quickly and copied the same motion by passing her sleeve over her mouth. "Get out," Mary said, as she rolled on her side away from him.

Hook smiled at the back of her head with a raised brow, and spooned behind her. "I was merely jesting, Madam, I mean you no slight, and it's all part of the game I like to play with you. It's only fair, you always play hard to get."

"I don't like your games, and I am hard to get." Mary moved to rise from the bed but Captain Hook had another idea. He yanked her down on her back and straddled himself on top of her kissing her harshly as she struggled underneath him. He kept on kissing her until her lips relaxed and finally welcomed his tongue that he smoothly slid in her mouth. Captain Hook loosened her shirt. With her blouse open, he grasped her breast in his hand and shifted his head down to taste her delicate skin.

Mary took her hand and placed her index finger under his chin and guided his eyes to hers. "Promise me that you will not hurt me, that you will do no harm to my body. I don't want to have to be afraid, not of you."

Captain Hook was surprised by her request, although even he could not understand why. Mary told him the same thing every time they were together in this way. Why would any living soul want to intentionally hurt such a kind and loving creature as this was totally beyond his understanding. He raised his brow and stared intently down at her. "Indeed, madam, I would never hurt you in any way, body or mind, and that is a promise I intend to keep well after you are no longer willing to accept my favor and my company."

He moved his lips back to her lips and moved his hand back to her body. She began reciprocating by nibbling his ears and neck and soon he was on his back with Mary licking down his chest to his exposed member. When her lips wrapped around his hardness sliding the warmth and softness of her mouth up and down he made her another promise, "And if your husband ever dares to put you in your place again, he will meet a most painful and merciless end, I swear that to you." Stilled in her movements, she gazed up to see his expression. He touched her face tenderly with his hand, "Oh yes madam, I can and will kill the king to rescue the queen."

It was a clear day outside without a cloud in sky and cold enough to snow. But it was not snow that gently pelted the windows. It was a soothing rain with one bolt of lightning followed by a loud clap of thunder, as Mary moved on top of Captain Hook, shifting down onto his length in George's bed. She held her head up running her hands through her hair that she had released from its twist, not watching the pirate captain below her. This was fair; for he was not watching her either. His gaze was toward the window, and the rains that poured down harder each time she shifted upon him. She moaned her pleasure touching his lips with her fingers bringing him back to her world, and in return, he flipped her on her back and kept the rhythm into her body the way she liked best. Mary had her lock, and Captain Hook had his own key and so he turned it inside of her over and over again while kissing every inch of her. "Tell me you love me..." Mary whispered as she grew closer and closer, slowly edging her way to her completion.

"I love you, Mary Elizabeth Baker..." he replied as a soundless bolt of lightning touched down on the street directly in front of the Darling house. Neither Captain Hook nor Mary saw it, for together, they were off in their own world, on their own adventure.