Chapter-22 A
The long conversation with Elizabeth means I am late for Lizzie's riding lesson. Edward hastens to his office as he is expecting a visitor, apologising for being unable to join us, but I assure him it is all right. I understand that he has a lot on his shoulders. It is not possible for him to spend every morning with us, much as I would like him to.
Just before entering the house, he kisses me on the cheek, saying it is for Lizzie and I should give it to her. Then he looks around and gives me a quick but hard kiss on the lips that leaves them tingling.
"Edward!"
"This is for me," he explains with the now familiar twinkle in his eyes. "It will keep me going until I see you again this evening."
I shake my head, but I can't help smiling. He is going to scandalise the servants with his behaviour, but somehow I can't bring myself to care too much.
Lizzie is excited to hear that Edward's mother is visiting us tomorrow. She asks me a dozen questions while we proceed to the stables, wanting to know everything about Elizabeth and her house. When I tell her that Elizabeth found her adorable on the wedding day and is eager to meet her, her face lights up with unadulterated joy.
After our ride, I send a note to my mother inviting her to lunch the next day. I also mention that Edward's mother will be joining us, and ask if she could bring Angela with her.
An hour later, I have her answer. She has thanked me and expressed her pleasure at the opportunity of meeting Elizabeth, and assured me that my sister will be with her.
I immediately inform Mrs Stanley and ask her suggestions for lunch. She has a few ideas, and both of us agree that it should be kept light. I am not sure if Edward will join us or not, but I do know that he doesn't eat much at noon. A refreshing cold soup and some sandwiches should suffice, and later on we can have a nice tea with pies and scones, either apple or cherry ones, with jam and clotted cream.
I also ask the housekeeper if Elizabeth has any particular likes or dislikes, but she shakes her head.
"Mrs Masen is not fussy about meals, my lady," she says with a soft smile. "Not that she has been here much, but I remember this about her. It will be nice to see her again." The last sentence she says as if making the remark to herself.
Edward confirms her words later in the evening, adding that his mother would be happiest if we were to treat her as a family member and not as a guest.
"She already loves you, sweetheart. Just be yourself and don't worry about formalities, and she will keep on visiting." He looked at me thoughtfully. "Of course, if the visits become too much for you, just let me know and I will give her a hint."
I huff a laugh. I doubt if Elizabeth will overstay her welcome. She seems to me very sensitive to other people's feelings.
He is right, of course. The visit is a success. Elizabeth and my mother get on well, and they shower Lizzie with affection. They also have the patience that most people reserve for their grandchildren. She commands them to visit her dolls and hear the latest adventures they have been through. It seems the dolls have recently travelled to India, and Lizzie wants them dressed in the finery the royal families of that country wear traditionally.
"I have asked the seamstress to make some clothes for them out of this book," explains Maggie with a fond smile. She shows us a book that has a lot of pictures in it. From overdressed kings and queens carrying bejewelled swords and sceptres to half-naked street musicians carrying a string instrument or a wooden flute, from majestic lions and tigers to preening peacocks, there is a lot to see. I know that Maggie believes in a wholesome education. The more a child is familiar with the people of this world, the less prejudiced she will be when she grows up. Edward and I support her wholeheartedly.
Edward joins us for lunch, but he is too busy to stay longer, so he makes his apologies and leaves us as soon as we have finished eating. However, he is very attentive to all of us while he stays. I already know how easy his interaction is with his mother, but I am sure he has added to the favourable impression my mother and sister have of him.
"You are fortunate to have him as your husband, Isabella," remarks my mother after he has left us. Angela nods in agreement, looking somewhat starry-eyed. I can't blame her. Even though she is about to get married, she can't help appreciating Edward's looks and charm.
I do tease her a little, in return for her remarks the other day.
"Focus on your soon to-be husband, Angela," I tell her, and she blushes a delicate pink. "What will Mr Cheney think if he knew that you find mine so beautiful?"
"I didn't say anything—" she begins to stammer, but stops as Elizabeth and my mother begin to laugh. I join them after a second.
"She is having fun at your expense, dear," says Elizabeth kindly. Angela glares at me, but then she too laughs.
"Well, you can't fault me for agreeing with my mother, can you?" she parries, and then turns to Elizabeth. "Don't you agree with me, Mrs Masen? Isn't Isabella fortunate to have Lord Edward as her husband?"
Elizabeth smiles and raises her hands in a pacifying gesture. "Well, I am his mother. Of course I think he is good-looking and wonderful. But perhaps Isabella can give us an unbiased opinion."
I feel my face heating up. "Um, I am indeed fortunate that he is my husband, Mrs Masen. He truly is a wonderful man, kind and patient."
Elizabeth beams as if I have paid her the highest kind of compliment. Perhaps I have. I am sure if someone praised Lizzie, either now or in future, I will be smiling an equally wide smile.
"I hope you will give me an opportunity to play with another grandchild soon, Isabella, and not wait until I have a bent back and bad knees," says my mother in a light-hearted manner.
I, however, feel hot all over. "Mother!"
"What?" she asks innocently. "I am just reminding you that time is passing and I am not getting any younger. You know I adore Lizzie, but I would dearly love to see a few more angels running around here when I visit you." She looks around with a sigh. "This house is grand, but I always felt that it needed more…life in it. There has been a definite improvement since your wedding with Lord Edward, but children—they are the ones who really fill a house with love and laughter."
It is not the first time my mother has expressed her wish of having more grandchildren. The topic has been raised while I was Anthony's wife, though never in his presence. He was seldom around when my mother visited, in any case.
In those days my mother's words did not affect me much, except causing a twinge in my heart, knowing very well that no other children would be born to me and Anthony. Not until he forgave me and resumed our marital relations. And so I would smile and lie to my mother, telling her that there would be more children when it was God's will. She would sigh, and that would be the end of the matter.
Now however things have changed completely. I am married to a man who loves me and finds me beautiful, and demonstrates it with great enthusiasm. I have no doubt that I will bear many children to him. The thought fills me with happiness. Still, I am not comfortable with discussing this in front of his mother because the thought of having his children naturally leads to the activities that make children.
As I have observed, Elizabeth is very sensitive towards other people. Deftly she changes the topic, but in a manner that does not hurt my mother's feelings. I breathe a sigh of relief.
Soon after my mother and sister take their leave. Elizabeth says she too must leave and assures me that it has been a most enjoyable day for her. Her words remind me of something I wish to ask her.
"If you don't mind, Mrs Masen," I begin with some hesitation, "you seemed a little sad on our wedding day. I hope the reception didn't remind you of anything painful."
Though I don't phrase it as a question, my tone makes it one. Of course, Elizabeth is not obliged to answer me.
She smiles rather wistfully, a quiet sigh escaping her.
"Not painful, Isabella," she begins in her soft voice, her hands resting on the back of the chair she is standing behind. I don't think she is using it as a support though; her back remains straight. "At least, not completely painful. It was more a mix of memories and feelings, perhaps some hope for the future as well. I was remembering so many things—my wedding, Edward and Anthony as children, losing my husband, James ruling over everybody here like a tyrant…"
She became quiet, clearly lost in memories. I almost didn't want to speak, but I wanted more answers, if she was willing.
"You hardly came over while Anthony was alive."
She nods, understanding my unasked question. Her eyes are grave as they look straight into mine.
"After my husband passed away, James began to drop hints that I should marry him. Fortunately he was away more than he was here on the estate, but when he was he would hound me constantly. I refused every time, of course, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. It came to the stage when I grew scared of setting foot in this mansion. He had a way of arriving here unannounced and accosting me as soon as he sent the boys to play outside or ride their horses."
A shudder passes through her thin frame. I can only imagine how terrified she must have been of James. I see her knuckles whiten and want to comfort her.
"Once he crossed a line…I was only saved because Mrs Stanley came into the room to ask a question about dinner. Perhaps she knew I needed help. After that I stopped bringing Edward here. Instead I asked Anthony's governess to bring him to my house so they could play together. Of course, once they grew up a little, the need to supervise them lessened."
I take a sharp breath at James being so much of a cad. It is not surprising, but it still shocks me.
"And when Anthony and I were here? You still didn't feel comfortable?" I try not to be too nosy, but I am not sure I succeed.
She shrugs lightly. "I suppose it had become a habit with me. Of course I knew James wouldn't try anything after all those years, but it was much easier to remain in my own house, my sanctuary. Thankfully, it was free of any bad memories related to James. He hardly ever paid us a visit while my husband was alive, and never after his death. Perhaps he realised that people would talk behind his back if he was seen there. Also, it is a small house and one or other of the servants was always nearby."
I shake my head. "How wrong I was! I imagined you just preferred solitude, you know?"
"I do prefer solitude, but I also like to see Edward frequently, and now you and Lizzie. I also have a couple of old friends in the village and we get together off and on. And now that Edward and you are married and James is unlikely to come back any time soon, I might be able to visit this mansion too. It does not seem as scary as before."
Esme leaves then, giving me much to think about. I wonder if Edward knows the whole reason behind his mother's avoidance of the Masen Manor. I decide not to discuss it with him. If Esme hasn't revealed it to him, then it is not my place to do so. If she has, it is not a pleasant topic to visit.
Two more days pass, and two more nights of sweet words and longing touches. Finally I am free of the rag.
Edward wakes me up in the morning with light kisses. Even before I open my eyes, I am smiling.
And when I do open my eyes, it is to find a matching, if not bigger smile on his face.
"Tonight?" he asks hopefully.
I nod, suddenly feeling shy. It is silly, but the gap of a few days has made me feel as if Edward is a stranger again. Or at least his body is. Emotionally we have become closer, talking about our life and our dreams.
It will be nice to know his body again, so that is something to look forward to.
He beams as if I have given him the world with that one nod.
"I will be waiting this whole day, darling."
"So will I."
He leaves the room with a spring in his step. I would have teased him if I wasn't feeling the same.
I don't see Edward until dinner. When I do, I am ready to take his hand and drag him to my room. Really, I had never imagined in my wildest dreams that I could be that eager to have marital relations with my husband.
Of course, I didn't know then how much pleasure one could gain from it!
Throughout the dinner we exchange these little glances and secretive smiles. Maybe the servants notice, or maybe they don't. It doesn't matter to me because I am in a world of my own, where Edward is the only other person I can see. I have no idea what food I put in my mouth and what it tastes like; I am only aware of Edward and his hands and his mouth and what magic they can work on my skin.
Finally we are done. We thank Mrs Stanley for an excellent meal and she bows with a smile of her own. If I didn't trust Alice to blabber, I would think she has informed our housekeeper of what exactly has been going on with me for the past five days!
Come to think of it, very little passes by her eagle eye, so it is quite possible that she knows why Edward and I have been exchanging silly smiles this evening. Oh, well.
Edward whispers in my ear that he will see me very soon and leaves for his room. It seems I will have to hurry with my ablutions tonight.
I have barely finished patting my face dry when there is a double knock on the door. Alice smiles at me and goes to open it. As soon as Edward enters, she takes her leave of us. She knows by now that Edward is impatient to be alone with me.
It is a good decision on her part, for Edward bolts the door quickly and then enfolds me in a passionate embrace while raining kisses on my face and neck and shoulders.
"Please tell me that you too are eager for this, my sweet," he says when he stops kissing me.
"I am eager for this," I admit unashamedly. Even if I had not spoken the words, my quickened breath and my flushed cheeks would have outed me.
"I will brush your hair afterwards," he groans, pulling at my nightgown. "I can't wait anymore to be close to you, Bella. I've missed you so much."
I have no difference of opinion on this subject, so I help him take my gown off, and his clothes are discarded in an even greater hurry. Before I know it, we are in bed, completely exposed to each other. This time I don't avert my eyes but rather drink in the sight of his masculine beauty, the same way he is drinking mine. I appreciate the width of his shoulders, the strength of his arms and the hardness of his muscles. I like the way the hair on his chest tapers as it makes its way to his narrow hips. And I very much like the enthusiasm his cock is showing, searching for my bower as our bodies skim each other's.
His fingers test me and find me wet and ready. He apologises for the lack of foreplay, but frankly, I just want him inside me, so I tell him.
Finally we are joined together. Edward stills for a moment, eyes closed and pleasure etched on his face. Then he kisses me once more and begins to move. At first his strokes are slow and deep, making me cry out. My cries seem to spur him, for his pace quickens and his strokes shorten. Soon the whole bed is shaking as we move back and forth. I am not even crying out now; my breath hitches with every jolt I receive and every sound he makes.
And then there is this incredible feeling rising inside me, lifting me as if I am weightless and making me shiver all over. For that one moment, I am nothing but a vessel brimming with unbelievable pleasure. I hold on to Edward so that I don't float away like a leaf in the breeze.
Conscience finds me in a while. I am wound around my husband, my skin cooling slowly and the sweat drying, except where it is in contact with his skin. I feel some of his weight. I feel his lips on my hair.
When I shiver, he pulls up the duvet from the foot of the bed and covers both of us. I nod off before I can think of anything to say.
The candle is still burning when my eyes open, so it can't have been very long. I feel satiated after days. My back is against Edward's chest, my front caged in his arms. His breath falls soft and warm on my temple, moving my hair just a little with every exhale.
As much as I wish to revel in the warmth surrounding me, I have an urgent need to use the privy. Very carefully I wiggle out of his embrace, put on my gown and proceed to the small adjoining room, happy that he remains sleeping undisturbed.
However, when I come back I find him in his pyjamas, standing in front of my dressing table and twirling a hair brush in his long fingers. I laugh quietly at the unexpected sight.
He shrugs. "I did promise to brush your hair, didn't I?"
"Aren't you sleepy?" I ask even as I willingly sit on the cushioned stool. He takes a seat on another one behind me.
He begins to brush my hair, one lock at a time. He is so careful, detangling it with his fingers before passing the brush through them that I feel no pain. I look at him curiously as he smiles wistfully.
"It may sound strange, my darling, but just as I like to sleep holding you close, I like being awake with you too," he explains, bringing a lock close to his face and taking a deep breath. "Your hair always smells so nice."
"It's the lavender oil Alice puts in my…bath." My voice breaks as he puts the brush away and begins to twist my hair in a coil. His fingers skim my neck, raising goosebumps.
"Can you put it up in a bun?"
I frown but pin the coil up with a few pins. He usually prefers it down, so I don't understand why he wants it up right now.
And then he makes me stand and presses himself against me, and I know.
"I want to you again, like this. Is that all right?" he whispers.
There is a frisson of anticipation running through my body. How is this possible that a few whispered words set me on fire for him?
And what does he mean by 'like this'?
"You want me to remain standing?"
"Not quite." He holds my hands and puts them on the table. "Just…bend a little." I do, still looking at his image in the mirror. "Yes, like that."
He lifts my gown from the back and tucks the hem inside the neck. I can't see my back in the mirror, but just knowing that I am bare to him makes me shiver. My heart is already beating faster as his hands stroke my hips and thighs, and then one finger is inside me and I am quivering with desire.
My eyes remain glued to his in the mirror as he adds another finger and strokes me, making me bite my lip and move my hips. His words add to the sensual experience, and soon I am shaking and crying out, and then he drops his pyjamas and enters me with a couple of thrusts. My eyes close as I feel the rich fullness.
"One day…" he murmurs in my ear as his hands wander upwards and cup my breasts, "I will take you in front of this mirror while you are completely naked, Bella, and I will ask you to keep your eyes open."
Not only my face but my whole body heats up at the image his words present. I imagine watching my breasts bounce as he thrusts inside me, my secret part visible to both of us.
"Will you like that, Bella?" he continues as he squeezes my breasts, making them hard. "Do you want to watch my cock driving in and out of your quim? Does the idea make you feel anything?"
"It makes me feel…wanton," I answer in a breathless voice as he moves back, partially withdrawing. Then he comes back forcefully, and my eyes fly open with shock. He notices, of course, and smiles lustfully.
"Good."
And with that one word, he starts pulling out and pushing in in earnest. All thought stops right there as my mind focuses on the one point where we are joined again and again. His hands fondle and pinch my breasts in turn and run all over my front while I try to keep my hands steady on the dresser. At least it is big and heavy and not likely to topple over with the force he is exerting!
His eyes keep mine a prisoner until I can't keep them open. I scream his name as a wave of pleasure washes over me, engulfing me completely.
When it recedes, I find myself lying on the bed, with my head on Edward's chest and my right leg draped over his.
"When did you…Did you carry me to the bed?" I ask lazily, not particularly bothered by the answer.
"Um-hmm." There is a smile in his hum. "You don't remember?"
"No," I mumble as I yawn widely, and feel his chest shake with laughter. "I think I fell unconscious. Does that usually happen?"
"Only after a very good round of sexual activity, so I have been told," he says, sounding smug. But I can't even be bothered with chiding him for that; I feel that tired.
"Sleep, my darling."