Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

LIZZIE

T he carriage slowed and turned up some sort of circular drive. For some time, I could see nothing through the small, cloudy windows but dark forest. The trees had an ominous feel as they hovered over the driveway, cutting off all view of the stars and moon. Eventually a massive three-story mansion came into view.

Many large estates in England had a rather hodgepodge appearance of mixed architecture with odd blends of medieval turrets and more modern wings.

Not Richard's home.

It looked to be as rigidly in command as the man himself.

Instead of having separate buildings, towers, or a u-shape that wrapped around a courtyard, it was one large rectangular building. In the center were four imposing Roman-looking columns that stretched up to the top of the second story. It was surrounded by massive oak trees that looked as old as the earth itself.

Despite it being evening, albeit probably late—although I had no way of knowing—the building was mostly dark. No lights shone in the windows. The only signs of life were two gas lamps on either side of a pair of large wooden entrance doors.

Split between the two doors in the center seemed to be a family crest. It looked to be a shield with two crossed broadaxes and a dead dove at the base. On the top was the family name Winterbourne and along the edge was the Latin inscription, Sis Vis Pacem Para Bellum . I had no idea what it said or meant but I did know from some random lesson in school that the Latin word for war was bellum . Judging by the dead dove, I was pretty sure which side Richard's family fell on the subject.

After getting a stern look from Richard, I hung back till he had opened the door and then turned to me. It was obvious he wanted me to allow him to carry me. I hesitated. He leaned into the carriage's interior.

"I won't hesitate to discipline you with my cane right here and now."

Discipline me? With his cane?

My ass still burned from the spanking I had gotten from just his hand. I didn't want to risk the agony of his cane let alone having all these people witness my humiliation.

Not willing to fight that battle, I allowed him to scoop me into his arms as I held the opera coat tightly closed around my body. I could still feel his slightly wet come drying on my stomach.

As we alighted from the carriage, the doors opened and a slew of costumed people came pouring out.

It was like watching an episode of Downton Abbey . All the characters were there. The housekeeper, the butler, the parlor maids and footmen.

And then I looked closer.

What. The. Fuck?

Wearing a black damask Victorian day dress with mutton sleeves with a bronze-beaded bodice was our stage manager, Sally Jennings. Her small frame was almost unrecognizable in the voluminous dress but it was definitely her. She even had a ring of keys on her belt.

"Sally? What are you doing here?"

Giving Richard a confused look, she lowered her head and curtsied to him first and then me. "Good evening, Your Grace. M'lady. I hope you had a pleasant journey. Your rooms are prepared."

"Sally!"

At that moment, a man stepped forward and cleared his throat. Bowing his head, he said in a very serious, slow tone, "Good evening, Your Grace."

It was Jack, my director.

"Jack! I'm so glad to see you. Where is Jane? Is she worried sick? Have you seen Mike? I have to know what the hell happened at the party last night?" I rambled in my excitement to see a friendly face.

Jack looked flustered and embarrassed as he exchanged a look with Sally.

"Please excuse Lady Larkin. She is overly tired from our journey," came Richard's deceptively calm response as he squeezed my thighs and shoulders as a warning to keep quiet. "Lady Elizabeth, you know perfectly well this is Mrs. Jennings, my housekeeper and Hutley, my butler. You've known them since you were a child."

Hutley bowed his head a second time. "No excuses needed, Your Grace. The staff understands Lady Larkin has been through a difficult time since the tragic death of her parents. Please accept our condolences, my lady. We are at your service."

What the hell was going on? I felt like I had tripped into some alternate universe. Part of me wanted to believe I was the victim of some elaborate hoax, but sex in the carriage with Richard was too painfully real for this to be some kind of a joke. I felt like I was truly losing my mind.

"If Your Grace will permit, I will instruct Parker to run her ladyship a nice hot bath," offered Mrs. Jennings as she followed Richard and me into the house.

Although I don't think you could call this massive mansion a house, maybe a palace?

The entrance hall was truly spectacular and more than a little intimidating… I mean seriously, who lived like this?

Around the perimeter of the large hall from floor to ceiling was intricate white wood paneling with gilt leaf and scroll accents mimicking more of the Roman style. A deep crimson damask with an embossed pattern covered the walls. The marble floor was a checker pattern of black and white polished tiles. Every few feet there was a portrait of some somber-looking dead lord and on every table surface there were large floral arrangements usually only found in the lobbies of very fancy hotels. There was even a painted mural on the ceiling of Satan in the form of a snake tempting Eve.

Stationed by each door were several footmen dressed in the same livery as the guy who rode on the back of the carriage. I immediately recognized them as some of the stagehands from The Lady Protests . I wished I could remember their names! George? Larry? No… maybe Tom?

The marble floor felt cold under my feet when Richard finally put me down. Holding my body close to his own, he put a crooked finger under my chin and raised my head. "Go with Mrs. Jennings. I expect you to behave properly as my ward or there will be consequences," he warned.

I started to open my mouth to protest but thought better of it.

Protesting would only keep me by his side and right now I had been granted permission to escape and perhaps have a secret word with Sally. Maybe without Richard staring her down she'd tell me what the hell was going on.

As I turned to follow Sally… or Mrs. Jennings… climbing the impressive central staircase, I watched the servants bustle about bringing in trunks of what I assumed was luggage from the carriage and deferentially address Richard as they passed, and my resolve started to splinter.

What if this was real?

It was almost too elaborate, too perfectly coordinated not to be.

What if Richard was right and I was just confused? Everyone else seemed to know who I was and that I belonged here. Could it be possible that my vivid memories of a different life were just dreams? Hallucinations brought on by grief?

Am I really Richard's ward? Subject to his complete authority?

As I tried to wrap my mind around the possibility, I heard the faintest sound. So quick, for a moment I thought I had imagined it like I had all the rest. Then I looked in the direction of the music; one of the footmen was scrambling to pull something from his breeches pocket. I could see a glowing screen as I heard the opening strains of a "Blurred Lines" ringtone. He was quickly surrounded by the other servants and whisked away through some hidden servants' door.

I turned to face Richard, accusation glowing in my eyes. By now I was several steps up the staircase and despite towering over him, he still somehow seemed taller and stronger than me. He was watching my reaction intently, his lips thinned in anger.

"Do as you are told, Elizabeth."

I felt a tug on my upper arm; without taking my eyes off Richard, I stumbled up several more steps before I finally turned and allowed myself to be taken away.

At least I knew one thing… I wasn't losing my mind.

The bedroom I was shown to was nothing like I had ever seen before. Decorated in light tones of apple green and cream, there were ornamental wood panels with carved flowers and birds along the walls. In the center of each panel were several small gilt-framed paintings of the English countryside. There was a gold-embroidered chaise lounge placed thoughtfully by a large window to catch the sunlight for reading and a beautiful dressing table with scroll-work legs and a large gold mirror flanked by candle brackets. The bed took up a large part of the room. Its four posters held up a heavy canopy of carved wood and silk. The coverlet was cream with green leaf work.

The whole room glowed with soft candlelight.

In the center was a large copper tub filled with steaming, fragrant water.

After scanning the room to make sure it was empty, I turned to face Sally.

Taking a step toward her, I grabbed her hands and pleaded, "Richard's not here. No one can hear us. Please, Sally. Tell me what's going on. Why is everyone pretending we are in the Victorian age?"

Pulling one of her hands free, she patted my shoulder. "Lady Elizabeth, you've had a dreadful shock from your parents' death. A woman's delicate mind cannot handle such grief. You are very fortunate His Grace has taken you on as his ward."

Wrenching my other hand free, I secured Richard's coat more firmly around my waist and turned in frustration to stare at the low flickering flames inside the fireplace.

"You must be chilled. Let me stoke the fire for you," offered Sally as she crossed to the marble mantel and grabbed a fire poker.

As I watched her thin form bend over to concentrate on her task, my eyes drifted to a large heavy vase perched atop the mantel. Briefly I thought about sending it crashing down on her head and running out of the room, but I knew that would accomplish nothing. There was very little chance I would make it off the estate grounds before being captured.

Just then, a younger woman walked in. She had on an upstairs maid's costume. Noticing my eyes on her, she bowed her head and gave me a small curtsy. She looked vaguely familiar but I couldn't quite place her. Perhaps from the stage crew? Props? Did it matter? From the unmistakable warning look Sally was sending her, I doubt she was going to tell me anything anyway.

"Lily will take care of you now, Lady Elizabeth. I'm sure you will feel better after a long hot bath," soothed Sally as she walked out of the room.

Silently, I stood as Lily placed several towels on a metal stand and moved them close to the fire to warm. She then walked over to the vanity and selected a small glass vial. She removed the stopper, and I watched as a glistening stream of liquid poured down into the still steaming bathwater. The room quickly filled with the scent of lavender.

Turning to me, she once more bowed her head. "Your bath is ready, Lady Elizabeth."

There was no reason why I shouldn't enjoy the bath. I would be lying to myself if I didn't admit I desperately wanted to wash the feel of that awful asylum and the sticky sensation of Richard's come off me. Taking a tentative step toward the copper tub, I allowed Lily to remove the now hopelessly wrinkled opera coat from my shoulders as I raised one leg to step into the bath.

Goosebumps rose on my pale skin as the tips of my cold toes touched the heated water. Ignoring the almost painful pricks as my body adjusted to the extreme change in temperature, I placed both feet in and grasped the sides as I lowered my body into the silky liquid. I couldn't suppress a sigh of relief as the heat seeped deep into my muscles. Inhaling deeply, I let the fragrant scent calm me.

Closing my eyes, I leaned back, letting the curved raised metal of the tub cradle my neck.

"Shall I wash your hair?" asked Lily.

Opening my eyes, I saw Lily standing next to the tub with a large pitcher in her hand. Nodding my assent, I sat forward and leaned my head back. Warm water cascaded over my head and shoulders to pour down my back. Through slitted eyes, I watched Lily pick up a coarse-looking bar of soap and lather it between her hands before returning to my hair. The spicy scent of lemon verbena mixed with the floral scent of the lavender bathwater.

Delicate fingers smoothed over my hair, grasping small handfuls and running down the length. Soon, the repetitive motion did even more to calm my ragged nerves. After pouring several pitchers of water over my head to rinse out my hair, Lily then picked up a large natural sponge. Once more she lathered it with the same bar of soap and gently lifted my wrist out of the water. Not meeting my eyes, she ran the sponge up and down my arm. Circling around the back of the tub, she pushed my wet hair over one shoulder and caressed my back with the sponge. As she stroked it downward, I would occasionally feel the brush of her hand on my skin.

I had never been touched by another woman like this. Without really thinking about it, my hand moved between my legs. Pressing my fingers between my lips, I pushed against my clit. It still felt sore and bruised from Richard's rough fucking not an hour earlier. With each delicate brush of Lily's hands, I thought of his hard touch. The slightly callused feel of his hands as they ran up my thighs before brutally pulling them open. The harsh brush of his stubbled jaw against my neck and shoulder. The sound of his labored breathing as he thrust into me.

One finger dipped inside. I bit my lip at the sting of pain. The memory of the force of his cock as it hammered into my body came back to me. Lily's hands continued to stroke my skin as I pushed my finger in deeper, relishing the pinch of pain.

I was getting off from the taboo feel of Lily's hands and the memory of Richard's cock.

Lily's hands dipped beneath the surface of the water, reaching for my wrist. Startled and embarrassed at the idea she would know my hand was pressed between my legs, I flung my arm up, splashing her dress.

"I'm so sorry!"

"There is nothing to be sorry about, my lady."

As she washed my other arm, I tried to focus my thoughts.

What the hell was wrong with me?

Waking up in a strange place?

Allowing a man to fuck me inside a carriage… a carriage!

Now masturbating in front of another woman.

None of this made sense. None of this was like me.

Maybe this was all just the side effects of whatever drug someone must have slipped into my martini. Perhaps this was all just some twisted dream or hallucination?

After suffering through the intimacy of Lily washing my legs, I finally got out of the tub. She scoffed at the idea of my drying myself so I stood impatiently while she gently patted me dry with a towel warmed by the fire. She then held up a gorgeous fur-lined robe for me to put my arms into. Immediately I was wrapped in the absolute luxury of soft fur and velvet before being escorted to a low chaise placed before the fire. As Lily perched on the edge of the chaise, brushing my hair, another servant entered with a massive silver tray.

Placed on a table before me, the tray was laden with colorful pastries, scones, and crystal dishes of clotted cream and preserves. The servant poured out one cup of fragrant tea before giving me a curtsy and leaving the room.

"I'll leave you to rest and enjoy your tea, my lady."

Collecting the sodden towels, Lily quietly left the room.

Popping a bite of lemon poppy seed cake into my mouth, I picked up the fine china cup and moaned as I swallowed a hot, stringent gulp of black tea. I had eaten one full scone slathered in cream and rhubarb preserves and another poppy seed cake before it even occurred to me to wonder if any of the food was poisoned.

As ludicrous as it sounded, I was too tired and hungry to care at that moment.

With a full stomach, I curled deeper into my fur-lined robe as I stretched my legs out onto the chaise. Flipping my hair over the arm to let the curls dry by the fire, I let the warmth of the room lull me to sleep.

My last thought before drifting into oblivion was perhaps living in the Victorian era was not so bad after all.