-9-
Jem
One particular person might have had a different opinion about Jem's freedom, but that was because he was an entitled nob who readily mistook desire for affection and lust for love. Jem prided himself on being an honest man, both to himself and others. If he occasionally bent the truth, it was only with exceedingly good cause. He knew he ought to end this right now, tell her exactly what sort of man he was and all the reasons why that made it impossible for them to be together.
"Eliza, I adore you, but I also hanker after other men, and currently Linfield has me in a bind."
The words remained lodged in his throat and couldn't be spat out no matter how hard he prompted himself to do so, not knowing how quickly they would snuff out her regard for him.
Everything had been so much simpler when he thought his opportunity lost. He'd convinced himself that Joshua Rushdale would have wooed and won her by now. That his aunt Mary would eventually write and entirely in passing, remark upon the wedding or some other event where Mr and Mrs Rushdale were in attendance, and then she would recall Eliza to him—the eldest of the Misses Wakefield that came to Stag's Fell last summer with the party from Lauwine Hall. And he would reply, and say "Oh, yes, I recall. Do pass on my congratulations. I'm so happy for them", while he died inside. Yet somehow none of that was real. Instead, she stood facing him, reaching for him now.
He had to tell her. He wasn't interested in a future built on deceits.
"Jem," Eliza prompted.
"I've nothing to offer you," he said with some difficulty. "It'd be wrong to let you assume otherwise." He smoothed a stray strand away from her face. "Eliza, I'm not the man you deserve."
"I don't think that is true, and in any case, we're not negotiating a marriage pact. I'm not seeking to wed."
She wasn't?
"Is this what you told Joshua too? Is this why—"
"You thought I'd marry Joshua Rushdale?" Her mouth hung open in astonishment.
Jem nodded. His mouth was dry, making it difficult to get his words out. It had seemed so logical when he'd thought it over, alone in his Oxford quarters. "It seemed an obvious assumption that you would choose one or other of us after all that happened at Lauwine, and he has the better prospects."
Eliza touched his face, as if with her fingertips she could read off his skin what he was failing to put into words. "As it happens, much like you, Joshua hasn't been very forthcoming with his attentions or correspondence." She trailed a finger along the ridge of his jaw down to his cravat, then curled her grip around the front of his coat, pulling him back to her so that their warm breaths mingled in the shallow space between them. "Mayhap, I ought to be mad at you both. Instead, I think perhaps I am grateful. Your inaction has allowed me time to think and realise I don't know that I even wish to wed."
"Ever?" he gasped. Surely, she didn't mean it.
"Jem, you must understand that marriage for a woman is to commit to certain duties… duties that would not allow me time for study or the betterment of myself. My life would be dedicated to those and child-rearing, assuming I even survived the horrors of birth. Whereas, if I remain a spinster, then there are no such obligations."
What she said was not unreasonable. He wished there was change on the horizon, a promise he could make that might alter her views, but he couldn't even really offer himself, let alone a means of escaping societal expectations.
"Do you see how I might question the seeking of a husband but might also not wish to live a life devoid of intimacy. You say you have nothing to offer me, but I say that isn't true."
She meant them to be lovers. It seemed unchivalrous to agree and equally discourteous to accept. Yet, he remained tempted. By her lips, which were right there by his chin. By her eyes, so bright with ardour…. He had only to dip his head a fraction and take what was being freely offered. And he need not let the things that had weighed heavy on his conscience worry him any longer. An affair—illicit in its very nature—was a very different matter to a lifetime connection.
She caught his glance. "Do I shock you, Jem?"
"I don't know whether to rejoice that you want me, or feel bitter that you reject the notion of—"
"I've rejected nothing. Merely questioned convention, and now ask that we put aside the notion of plighting troths or tying unravelable knots and the like aside for the time being. Perhaps on deeper acquaintance, we will find that we do not suit as well as we currently think. Or the opposite, entirely. Perhaps I will become so utterly obsessed with you the notion of binding ourselves with golden shackles shall sound like the most perfect of outcomes."
Time—she was giving him time. And whispering to him promises of a future. He could present to her who he truly was, make her understand that… That what, it didn't make him a freak… an embarrassment… a scandal waiting to erupt? He was all those things.
"I have shocked you," she said, bringing him out of his mind and back into the present. They were stood practically chin to shoulder, his hands around her waist, hers resting lightly on his shoulders. "Perhaps you don't believe a woman should allow herself the same pleasures as are readily afforded to men. We should be chaste, goodly… entirely pure."
"No." He pulled her closer. "I'm honoured that you seek to ask those things of me."
"Truly?"
This was foolish, but there was no helping it. In no version of life that he'd ever choose would he walk away from this moment or her and leave her imagining he didn't want what was offered.
He wanted it so badly; he could taste it in the air.
"Goddammit, Eliza!" He crushed his lips to hers, swaddling her in a fast embrace. He kissed her as he'd dreamed of doing on oh so many nights. Those moments at Lauwine Hall had been so fleeting. The three of them tied in knots none of them dared unpick for fear of finding they were the one holding the end of a different rope.
"I've thought so many times about that day."
"Likewise, so many times." Not purely of her, but of Joshua too. Of how it'd made him feel to watch the two of them kiss. The answer was surprisingly complex. Jealous, for certain, but more troubling things too. Desire, coupled with thoughts about what the three of them might do together.
He'd learned just hours before that moment that the lords Pennerley and Marlinscar were engaged in a triadic relationship with Joshua's sister, so naturally such possibilities had loomed large in his thoughts. He knew now, having witnessed Joshua's actions later that day—he'd put that shot in Pennerley's leg—that Joshua would never consent to such an arrangement with Jem or any other man.
Yet another reason kissing her was foolish. Still, he couldn't stop himself.
Her mouth was a revelation. Her touch seared his skin. She was demanding, yielding, soft but fierce. Her hands tucked under his waistcoat seeking skin. He explored the curve of her throat, the shell of her ear, the firm weight of her cherubic behind. She made him stiff with her inexperienced but eager caresses.
The pictures in his mind were all of raising her onto the table, of lifting her skirts and exposing her stocking tops, of then exploring the soft stretch above her garters, of dipping fingers, tongue into the split between her thighs… and maybe, maybe burying himself there.
But she was ahead of him in some regards, eager not just to be led, but to quest ahead. When she set about slipping the buttons of his breeches, his heart grew so big the sound of it echoed in his ears and simultaneously pulsed heat into his cock.
"You've grown stiff," she muttered. "I've only ever seen a man's member limp. Does it hurt?"
"Only in the best way." She pushed her hand inside the cloth and cupped him. The thrill of it stole the last of his shredded restraint.
"Eliza," he breathed. "Have a care."
"I don't know what to do to please you," she confessed into his ear.
"Yet you're managing just fine." He kissed down the side of her throat to the hollow at its base, then all along her collarbone, and the square edging of her dress. The top of her bosom was firm but soft; he flicked his tongue between the fabric and her skin, seeking her nipple. Found it. Claimed it, sucked it into a steepled peak and heard her crow of pleasure in response.
"Show me how I should pleasure you," she demanded, while her kiss followed a similar route to the one he'd just traversed, concentrating on the juncture of his throat and collarbone. She did that simply by being a presence in his world, but he acknowledged the plea in her voice, that part of her that always sought to learn, to discover, to unravel… "Like this."
He guided her hand, showed her how to ring her fingers around his shaft, then guided her motion. Up to the crown, twist, then down. She grazed the tip of his cock with her palm and his breath left his body in an excited hiss. "Yes. Exactly like that. Exactly."
"You feel so solid, yet so smooth. I like holding you, Jem."
He might have said something eloquent about how much he liked being held, but his lips were busy, and he was already weeping pearls for her. She kissed him again, sucking on that same, now rather sensitive spot.
"I want to look." She lifted her hand and tasted the silken fluid he'd spilled there, causing a lightning strike of arousal to hit him. Many's the man and woman who could learn something from her. Jem lifted his shirt tails, expecting her to glance down, drink her fill and be done. Instead, she bent, bringing her nose down level with the wiry bush at his base.
Her eyes gleamed as she peeped up at him, her tongue running along the edge of her teeth. "Might I taste you?"
Taste him!
What was this alternate realm he'd fallen into? His cock bucked hard at the notion. "I think you mean to kill me," he said, his voice reedy.
"Is that a usual response to having one's prick"—she quirked a brow, querying the term—"kissed?"
He would certainly die a little death. "I'm not sure this is a good idea," he croaked.
Eliza dropped onto her knees. She peeped up at him along the length of his body. "I think you'd like nothing more."
Jem gulped. He couldn't deny she was right. This wasn't how things ought to be though, he ought to be pleasuring her, with his lips and tongue, with the slide of his fingertips between the split of her quim.
She pressed her nose against the skin at the juncture between his torso and hip. "I adore how you smell—musky with promise."
He groaned.
"Do you like to be sucked, Jem? I've heard it's a thing that some men—"
"Yes," he gasped. "Yes, I do. Please. Yes."
She grinned, but then stuck out her tongue and stole a pearly bead from the tip of his cock.
Jem's eyelids fluttered closed. Christ, what torment! He wanted to clasp hold of her head, guide her to do more than tease with her tongue tip, to open her mouth and swallow the whole of him right down to the root.
When she tasted him a second time, then a third, he pressed against her lips, which she willingly parted, granting him entrance to the hot cavern of her mouth.
"Suck me," he sang, his hands finding purchase around her head, while he steadied himself against the cupboard at his rear. He was making noises, nonsensical croons, and rasps, but he didn't think a mouth around his cock had ever felt this good before. She might not be proficient, but she was eager, and he was utterly besotted. She was going to bring him off, and soon, if he wasn't careful. He clasped his hand around the base of his cock, but it wasn't enough.
"I'm close," he warned. "Take care now."
"Do you mean you're going to spend?"
He choked. Eliza drew him deeper. "Going to…" Goddammit, he was already there, and there was no stopping it. The first spurt took her off guard, but she rallied and swallowed; he felt the motion of her throat as his cock released into her mouth.
His mind was a puddle, surely spilling from his ears.
Eliza sat back on her haunches and looked at him. Then she dabbed his spendings from her lips like a duchess wiping away cake crumbs. "That was—"
"Let me do the same for you." He said in a hurry.
She cocked her head. "I don't see how… Wait, you mean, lick between my thighs?"
He groaned at the description, and his cock gave a pulse like an aftershock. In a moment, he'd find her a chair, lift her skirts. Jem slid down the cupboard at his back and landed on the floor on a level with her. "You are astonishing," he said, before kissing her. "How did you even know that such a thing was a thing?"
"I have ears," she said, a tinkle of laughter in her voice.
So, alas, did he. "Someone is coming!"
"Drat!" she mouthed.
Eliza grabbed her bowl, and he his breeches, and they fled deeper into the suite. The backroom housed a large table, and a tray of assorted knives and torturer's implements.
"Anatomist," Jem hissed as much to remind himself as her. They squatted behind the table, and he did his best to right his clothing.
"There's another exit somewhere." Logically, there had to be, as Bell had emerged into the corridor yesterday without disturbing he and Linfield. They both twisted their necks, trying to ascertain the route. There were three choices, and their escape might lie behind any of them. Still crouched, Jem edged towards the nearest.
"Wait," Eliza hissed, still cradling her bowl like precious cargo. "I don't think it's Bell."
"Who else—?"
But no, she was correct. It was interesting how quickly one learned to recognise a person's tread. Bell's gait was more authoritative, and more stride than shuffle. Whoever it was had a more delicate pace and softer soles.
Eliza stood. "Mrs Honeyfield," she said, and returned to the other room.
The housekeeper jumped, fumbling the jar she held, but managing to keep her grip on it. "Heavens, Miss. You reet startled me. Where did you spring from?"
Eliza waved vaguely. Jem ducked back behind the table. Everyone knew what gossip was like in the servant's quarters. The last thing he needed was for Linfield to hear he'd been down here alone with Eliza.
"No, no," that lady was saying. She snatched the jar from the housekeeper's hand and returned it to the shelf. "Those won't aid at all."
The other woman stiffened. "Are ya sure? Doctor Bell said—."
Eliza glanced again at the label. "Kunckel pills won't do a thing for toothache, they're meant for gout and apoplexy, colic even, and I'd question their efficacy even for those. No, they aren't the thing. But see here, I have the preparation I promised all mixed. It's only in need of a container." She turned about to seek a vessel amongst the range of glassware.
"Will this do?" Mrs Honeyfield passed her a small square jar with a cork stopper.
"Oh, yes. Very nicely. Thank you. Here you go. Just rub it on the affected area, and it should alleviate the pain. Although if it's truly bad, you might consider having it pulled. Did Doctor Bell say anything about that?"
"He said his lordship's valet's tha one to ask if ah wants it pullin'."
Eliza gave her an encouraging smile. Was it any wonder that so few made it to adulthood, considering the many shortcomings of the country's physicians? God forbid they get their hands dirty, or lowered themselves to mix their own medicines. If they did, they might have a better understanding of the worth of each of the ingredients they prescribed, although being fair to Bell, he'd displayed surprising competence.
Enough to possibly forgive him the leeches.
"Use the remedy, Mrs Honeyfield. It's a recipe that's been in my family for generations, and I promise you, Wakefields, to a woman, all die with a full set of teeth still in their mouths. If there's no improvement in a day or so, then you'd best consult with Lord Linfield's valet and have the tooth pulled. I know it's unpleasant to contemplate, but think of the relief."
"Ah'll do that, Miss. Thank you."
~Ж~
Eliza allowed herself a smile once Mrs Honeyfield had gone. She stared at the spot on the floor where she'd knelt but a few minutes ago and sucked Jem's… done that, to Jem. The taste of him was still on her lips, and she didn't regret it one bit. She quickly returned the items she'd used back to their proper places, no sense in inviting Bell's wrath unnecessarily. He never needed to know that she'd even been here.
Only once she was done did she venture back into the anatomy room. Jem was not where she'd left him. She tried the nearest of the doors they'd noted earlier but found only a cupboard. "Jem?" she called, keeping her voice low.
He emerged, not from one of the remaining two doors, but from behind a section of the wainscotting. "You can't tell, can you?" he said, delighting over how seamlessly the door blended with its surroundings. "Those two are cupboards." He waved a hand at the nearest two doors. "The third is Bell's emergency exit. It leads onto the terrace. But this, this I confess I stumbled on entirely accidentally. Rested my hand right on the handle when I was trying to keep tabs on your conversation with Mrs Honeyfield. I'm surprised you didn't hear my call of surprise, for it knocked me right off balance."
She shook her head, not having heard a thing.
"Where does it lead?" she asked. Jem showed her the catch and opened it up again so that she could peer into the space beyond.
"I didn't venture far, there's a spiral stair ahead, but beyond that…"
"I wonder if it's the same—" She shut her mouth abruptly.
"Oh, don't stop, I'm sure you were about to say something devilishly enlightening."
Eliza stepped into the hidden passage. It was rather less dusty than the one she'd explored the previous night. "I'm not altogether sure I should say."
Jem drew his lips into a pout. "Considering the exchange we shared only a short while ago; I can't see what would prompt you to hold your tongue now."
"Very well, this isn't the first concealed passageway I've stumbled on. There's one that runs between my chamber and the library, but there was also a stair that I didn't venture to the bottom of. It's quite possible that it's one and the same with the one you've just found."
Jem's expression grew ponderous. "So, what you're saying is that the place is riddled with secret passages. Passages that one might use to move about unseen—"
"You ought really to wait for an invitation."
He laughed. "Actually, I was thinking of Lady Cedarton's apparition, and how such an array of secret corridors might facilitate in creating such a visitation."
Eliza waded a little further into the gloom. "Ah, yes, that is a possibility. Especially if there is an exit close to where Jane sighted the ghost. We ought to look, don't you think?"
He stepped into the corridor beside her. "Agreed, and if we do it from the inside, then no one will ask why we're patting down walls and bookcases."
"Or volunteer to assist when they might be the person behind it all. Do you think that's what's happening, Jem? Did someone set out to scare Jane half out of her wits deliberately? What in heavens for?"
"I don't know," he said, but after a long enough pause to make her think that he had a range of thoughts on the subject, possibly even suspicions. "The stair is straight ahead following the corridor. Will you manage, or should we seek out a candle first?"
"I shall manage." Bits of light seeped in through gaps, and after a few moments her eyes began accustomed to the gloom. Progress was nevertheless slow. They frequently bumped against one another, and the stair Jem had discovered proved to be further along than she'd initially supposed. Their direction of travel was difficult to discern, though they must be within the wreckage of the Lady's Tower. When they eventually found the stair and climbed it, Eliza recognised the turn she'd taken towards the library the night before. "There are no more branches. This leads directly to my chamber."
"Perhaps there are other passages, and not all of them link up," Jem suggested.
"Then I don't know how we shall find them without drawing attention."
"Maybe there's a map. Plans of the place in the library. Should we go and look?"
"Wait." Eliza reached for his hand, stilling him as he was about to take the passage to the library. "Do you smell something? What is that?"
"Burning!" they both concluded at once.
Eliza started forward again following the route towards her room. With each step, the scent became stronger. Soon there were distinct wisps of smoke in the air. She broke into a run as best as was possible in the confined space. Jem stayed on her heels. They burst into her chamber through the back of the armoire to find it exactly as she'd left it that morning.
"Look." Jem darted towards the adjoining door. Thick tendrils of smoke were leaking around the edges of the frame.
"Wait!" Eliza demanded, bringing him to a sharp halt. "We cannot both burst in from my dressing room." Perhaps now wasn't the moment to be thinking of propriety, but she had no intention of being sent away in disgrace for having had a man in her room. Said man had the good sense not to argue. He adjusted his route immediately, dashing out into the main corridor, while Eliza entered via the dressing room.
Within, the air was hazy and thick. It burned in her throat, making her cough. A corresponding hack came from the room beyond. Eliza grabbed a muslin kerchief from a basket on the floor and clasped it over her mouth and nose. Her eyes were streaming as she opened the door into Jane's room.
She'd left the sparse room in weary tranquillity; now it was bright as day. Edith was kneeling on the bed, tugging at Jane with all her might, while her mistress remained in an opiate-induced stupor. Around them, the bed curtains burned with a blue-green flame.
"Miss. Oh, miss!" Edith cried on seeing her.
Eliza ran forward, but there was no getting close. The heat repelled her. Jem was knocking on the external door. Clearly having grown impatient, he burst in.
"No!" He caught Eliza as she tried to reach the bed and held her back. "Think."
"Help. Help us, please." Edith bleated. Her plea was cut short by a choking cough.
There was water in the ewer. An old shawl of Jane's discarded nearby. Jem had her bind it around his arm, then soak the fabric. The canopy caught as Jem gingerly approached. The flames were tearing through it, showering those below in incandescent sparks. "Jump," he told Edith.
She did, giving Jem just enough room to drag Jane, still entangled in the eiderdown, from the burning bed and deposit her unceremoniously on the rug. Her skin was ashen, lips almost blue.
"Out," Jem ordered them, just as Bell burst through the door. George Cluett followed, along with Henrietta. "What the devil?" He sprang back as the canopy fell.
Eliza pushed Edith towards the door. Both Cluetts fell back to allow her passage. Then she grasped one end of the eiderdown, and she and Jem pulled Jane into the safety of the corridor.
"How the devil has she not stirred?" Mrs Cluett asked. She was fanning her face as if that alone would disperse the thick coils of smoke.
Bell dropped to one knee by Jane's side. Someone pushed a coat beneath her head.
"Is she breathing? Is she dead?" Linfield demanded. He'd arrived in his banyan from the far reaches of the house.
Around them, the servants were gathering. Mrs Honeyfield was barking orders. Lord Linfield's valet and a man in rough homespun she supposed to be Gordy the groundsman, began organising a line, while George, in a moment of intelligence, tore a large tapestry from the wall and manhandled it though the doorway. A buxom maid followed, armed with a carpet beater, while Edith curled into a corner, her soot-stained cheeks crossed with tear-tracks.
"Your wife is fine. She lives," Bell replied, having checked both pulse and breathing.
Poor Jane was far from fine. "You gave her too much," Eliza barked at Bell. "And weren't you supposed to be attending her?"
"She was still sleeping, I planned to return later, and nor did I give her too much. I gave her exactly the required dose. If you'll recall, Miss Wakefield, she was distraught."
"And now she is in so deep a stupor as to be insensible to her surroundings, even as they burn down around her."
"As if an inferno could have been predicted. She had a body with her. Where is the maid?" He spotted her. "Careless girl, you've nearly cost your mistress her life."
Eliza barged her way between Bell and the maid. "Oh, don't you point a finger at her. You have no notion of how the fire started."
"It weren't me. It weren't." Edith cried. Eliza pulled her to her, and the maid dissolved into gulping sobs against her breast. "Ah don't know what 'appened, Miss. I swear it. Only, that I came back reet fast like Mrs Honeyfield said I should, an' the mistress was still sleeping so peaceful-like… And then, I dunno. It were fine, and then the curtain were all ablaze, an' I couldn't get her to stir, and she's too heavy fer me t' move on me own."
"Stupid girl, you probably set the curtains alight with your carelessness," Linfield barked. He was peering down his nose at his comatose wife, still laid out on the floor. "Have her moved." He tipped a nod towards Jane.
"I'll deal with the maid, my lord," Mrs Honeyfield stepped in, but Edith clung to Eliza.
"I had no candle, Miss. I swear it, and the coals were burned down to embers. It doesn't make sense."
"Next I suppose you'll expect me to believe it the work of the spectre," Linfield said, already edging away from the source of the mayhem. He tsked as specks of ash landed on his shoulder and flicked them away. "Bell, to where should they remove my wife?"
George and Jem emerged from Jane's chamber at that moment. "It's out," the latter declared, "But the bed's blackened to ruins."
"My room is right here," Eliza gave a nod towards her door. "Unless you think she needs to be further away from the—"
"This will be fine," Bell spoke over her. "Only get those windows open and some air in, and have some cloths set to the bottoms of the adjoining doors."
The servants set to it at once. While they did so, Eliza took a peep into Jane's chamber. The windows had been cast wide, but ashes still swirled in the air, and the scent of burned fibres caused her to quickly cover her mouth and nose. Jem entered behind her. He rested a hand on her shoulder. Eliza longed to turn into him but contented herself with the brush of his fingertip against her neck.
"A candle flame wouldn't cause such an inferno, nor a stray spark. It might burn a hole, but it would not ignite the drapes in so short a time."
"They'll blame the girl."
Eliza scowled. "You don't think her responsible, do you, Jem?"
"I'm not sure what to think. But come from here, let us speak elsewhere. All this ash, it gets in your throat." She nodded her assent and followed him back into the corridor. "I'm sure Bell didn't intend her any harm," he said.
Eliza didn't feel quite so forgiving, and so she pursed her lips. "I should go and sit with her. Ensure no other disasters befall her."
"You fear someone means her ill."
"What other conclusion is there?" She could see it in his eyes that he'd thought the same thing. "Someone set out to scare her last night, and now this. Before, I wondered if it was merely a prank, now, I don't know."
"It does seem rather malicious."
"I'm afraid for her, Jem. I fear someone in this house means her harm."