The Country Affair

"All right then, you shall call me Mr. Deerhurst. But I do hate that name, its how my father was addressed by my mother until the day he went to meet his maker."

"I'm terribly sorry," she said.

"For what?"

"For bringing to you such association," she looked up at him. His eyes were kind and unassuming, his near black hair longer on top and curly with short sideburns. His left hand was at his back and he stood tall against the moonlight. His shoulders were broad but not grotesquely so, and his collar lay slightly raised about his neck with a white silk cravat glowing in the iridescent light.

"Please don't apologize. It hardly the worst I've endured in this life," Will shifted his stance almost uncomfortably, "Would you mind if I sat next to you?"

She felt her heart leap at the thought. His presence made her feel aware of her body and how cold she was. She would love him to sit next to her and wrap his coat around her shoulders, the heat from him still trapped inside and warming her freezing arms. Mary flushed the thought from her mind. Too much was at stake here, and anything she desired should be the very last thing on her mind in this moment. She had to put her foot down, "I'm terribly sorry, but actually I would. It would be unseemly, due to my recent... as yet unannounced betrothal."

"Ah..." he said.

"I again apologize—"

"Again please do not."

"But I have only just met you and do not trust you."

Will nodded, "I understand. I shan't trouble you any more this evening."

Mary looked up quizzically, "You're leaving, then? So you didn't come here with any... ill purpose?"

Will balked and chortled to himself, "Heaven's no! I would never besmirch such a chaste beauty as you. If it is your wish I shall merely admire you from afar. However when I found you, you very much look like you need a shoulder upon which to cry, and so my offer still stands," but what he would give to hold her close, wrapping an arm around her, running his fingers across her cheek and through the chestnut tendrils of her hair.

"Admire?"

"You cannot pretend to think you are not beautiful. But my honest desire is to respect your wishes and first offer you my eternal fidelity."

Mary was staunch, "Mr. Deerhurst, I shall not forget your kindness. But I must also ask you to please not insist on anything between us now as it is highly improper."

"I am ever your servant," he said, smiling softly at her. Restrained as his desire was, Will inwardly burned for this girl from the moment he'd laid eyes on her. But there would be a right time again, so here he would leave her be.

He went to leave, and then remembered what he had found on the pathway. His left hand appeared from behind his back, lightly holding a hand-smoothed peach glove, "I believe that you dropped this."

"Thank you," Mary clasped the glove to her breast before placing her naked hand inside and rolling it up her goose-fleshed cold arms. She shivered.

"You're quite welcome. You are chilled?"

"Freezing actually. I forgot that it is warmer in London than in the countryside."

"I would offer to walk you back to the house as your escort, but I loathe the idea of shaming you further. However it is quite dark, so may I at least walk you to the end of the maze's hedgerows? I will wait for you to go in to the hall before I appear."

"I would certainly appreciate—" she stood up, tripping on the uprooted tile and staggered forward against his chest. A hand brought up around her waist steadied her. Mary's heart raced as she looked up at him. He looked down at her gently, eyes locked to hers. She should have pulled away, but stayed pressed against him as his hand tentatively came up to brush aside a fallen tendril, then cup her cheek. His touch sent lightning through her and his warmth pulled her magnetically closer to his body.

Will cautiously leaned down and lightly pressed his lips to hers. She felt soft and yielding as she returned his kiss. He held her closer, deepening their embrace. Her soft lavender scent filled his nostrils as he breathed. His hand trailed down her neck and finally to her shoulder, forcing himself to go no further.

Mary's mind warred against her, screaming that this would lead her to ruin but her heart sang and her body melted against his perfect lips. A heat far removed from the warmth of him crept up from her belly and she instinctively pressed into him as his hand came to rest on her shoulder blade.

His lips came away and they remained together there for a moment before Mary pulled away, her gloved hand against her flushed breasts and her lips still sparking with the energy of their kiss, "I... I'm sorry, I don't know what to say..."

"No, it is I who should apologize. I overstepped my bounds. I—"

They came back together in an instant, drawn by unseen forces. The passion of this kiss rolled through both of them. Mary ran a hand through his dark hair as his arms wrapped around her to her waist, pressing her hard against him. The heat radiating out from her stomach matched the ache he now felt building against her. Though fiery their embrace was over in moments and Mary backed down once more, shaking.

"I can't! Please, Will."

The corners of his mouth turned up at the sound of his name, but one look at the fear in her eyes stopped him short. He needed to bring her back to him; relieve her fear, "I don't what has come over me, and I'm sorry to confuse you. I truly am. But in my heart I know that this is right and my affections real... and that you feel it too. You've felt it since our eyes met across the table tonight," he brushed the same loose curl back from her brow.

Mary's eyes welled up once more as she stepped backward the width of the path away from his embrace, wanting desperately to return to his arms and knowing that she could not. Of all of Fate's cruel tricks on her today to be engaged against her will and to meet... Will all in the same day.

He started toward her, "Dear God, I'm sorry if I've harmed you."

"No, just, please... I need to leave this place."

Mary raced down the moonlit path her skirts raised above her knee to quicken her gait as she raced toward the sound of the house. She ran for her life. Another moment with Will and she would have been finished. The handkerchief was still clutched tight in her hand. Sensations flooded through her that she couldn't begin to identify. Her steps matched the curious drumming of the music. One, two three; one, two three...

"Please, please wait," Will called out in vain, "Mary!!!"

* * * * *

"No, I honestly don't know what to make of her. One moment she is frigid and pure as the snow, the next moment..."

George William "Will" Deerhurst, Earl of Coventry, sat at the window of the master chamber in Croome Court trying to choke down an exceptionally rubbery version of eggs en cocotte. Any other morning he would have had it sent back but his mind was fixed on one thing only. The elusive Lady Mary Beauclerk, his bride to be.

He watched his un-introduced fiancée run from the dance hall at Wellesley just as he was clearing the room to walk over to her, and then followed her when she bolted for the garden. He had never seen a woman run as fast; she would put friends of his to shame. Then finding her, her classical frame bathed in cold moonlight, crumpled up on the bench, sobbing. His shy goddess. All he wanted was to hold her in his arms and Fortune intervened. She transformed into Venus herself. He could still smell the lavender of her hair, hear the swish of her silk dress, and taste the cream and strawberries of her kiss on his lips. Feel her fingers laced through his hair. At these thoughts a shiver crept up his spine, far more powerful than the cold last night. Confound his manners; he should have kept her glove. It was fair return for the handkerchief.

"My lord, I'm not sure how to advise you," his chamberlain said as he stoked the fire once more, "Might I again suggest the possibility that she didn't know who you were?"

"Rubbish, James," Will grabbed for the Times, "She recognized me at dinner because I caught her pretending not to stare at me."

"And how did you catchherstaring, my lord?" James said his, voice dead pan.

Will shook his head at James and smiled, "How could I not keep my eyes off of her? In any event, I introduced myself to her. She had the nerve to call me Mr. Deerhurst. Repeatedly! There is no doubt in my mind she knows exactly who I am. She was just being coy..."

Will remained confused by this girl. Her father, the Lord of St. Albans, had told him that Mary would know of the engagement before arriving in Worcestershire. Mary had even used their current unwedded status as reason enough to balk his advances last night. Almost. His senses were tormented by that first touch of her as he held her and steadied her unsure footing, and her kiss had nearly undone him. He hadn't meant to kiss her yet. He was not about to disrespect the trust of her or her family but found himself helpless in her presence. A dozen women at court could not sway him, but this girl with the golden eyes and chestnut hair had dissolved any control he thought he'd ever had over himself.

He closed his eyes and remembered the first time he had laid eyes on her last August. It was a year and few months after Emma's death from lung fever, and the loss of his wife and then father the year previous had numbed him to any feeling. His life had become only a series of appearances at this or that social occasion and he dreaded them all. He was in London at the last event of the season at Almack's, not even there for social graces, but to see the Duke of Buckingham on important business.

Suddenly, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen glided across the floor during a quadrille, her pale gold dress lighting up the room. He was still dressed in black, nearing the end of his mourning period and didn't dare approach her then. Through the winter his thoughts had dwelled on her, despite keeping busy at court. Every spare moment alone drove him back to memories of that rich chestnut hair bouncing in tendrils around her high cheekbones and radiant smile as she sashayed in a circle around the floor.

His near obsession hadn't been dulled by time and now that he had held her, had tasted her lips and also her apprehension he was driven to see her again; to make things right and take away any of her lingering fear.

James only shook his head, staring at the large cottony clouds on the horizon, "Are you sure about going out riding, sir? Last night you came back chilled to the bone from chasing her out into the Wellesley garden. One would think the poor girl is in bed at the guesthouse wrapped in blankets today, eating nothing but Pease soup."

"Obviously, my good fellow," Will folded up the paper and lay it on the table, standing to dress for the day, "you never spoke about her with her father. Call it more than a hunch that I shall find the Lady Mary lost somewhere in the countryside."

"But why, and pardon me my lord, why pursue her at all? She will be formally engaged to you by tomorrow, her family already approves,morethan approves in truth..."

"Because believe me, I know what it is like to suffer from an arranged marriage. I had never laid eyes on Emma until three days before we married, and while our marriage was pleasant, the best emotion I could have for her was fondness. And I have truly fallen for this woman; this very independent free spirited woman who will view me as an indifferent shackle if I don't at least give myself the opportunity to court her."

Will stared out the windows to the grasslands and his guest cottage down the road. The small lake reflected the sky beyond it. He knew exactly who had slept in that cottage last night.

* * * * *

Mary felt behind her pillow to find the handkerchief still underneath it. She opened an eye to make sure Lizzie was not about and slowly pulled it out to look at it, finely embroidered with brilliant blue. D. For 'disaster' or 'danger' or 'Mary you are adamnfool'. His clear blue eyes. His smile. His kiss...

He had called out her name as she ran away. How did he know her name? Her thoughts went back through the night. She hadn't introduced herself to him. She had run away before he could hope to extract a name from her. But not before she had fallen into his arms, quite literally. His strong arms...

She had never seen or heard of a Will Deerhurst before. He wasn't a rake because she would have known of him. Gossip traded between Lizzie and Claire had alerted Mary to every rake in the ton before she had even reached her début three years ago. She would have remembered him if she had seen him before.

Dash it all. She needed to put Mr. William Deerhurst as far out of her mind as possible. She needed the strength to make it through the next few days, to make it through the rest of her life. And she felt that he had created a fundamental weakness in her. How else could she explain her behavior, or those sensations that flooded through her when he held her, or even when she thought about him. Mary grew frustrated with her own mind. She had to take a stand, even a symbolic one, to regain her sanity.

The Beauclerks were staying at the Croome Park guest cottage, far removed from the mansion up the road. Mary came down to breakfast where her family had already started without her.

"You slept fitfully," Lizzie said, "Are you feeling all right?"

Mary recoiled, "Yes, I'm fine. There was just... a draft last night."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay in today, then? We don't want you catching cold," Louisa said between sips of tea, "It wouldn't be fitting to meet your fiancé tomorrow with a case of the sniffles."

"Stay in? Were we planning on going somewhere?"

Aubrey looked up over his morning paper, "I was going to take all of us to visit Overbury manor and my schoolmate, Martin and his wife. They have three daughters about your girls' age, one married. Might as well, since we're in Worcestershire."

This was her chance to finally be alone in the country and make peace with her destiny and the events of last night, "I am feeling a bit chilled. May I stay here?"

"Of course," Louisa said, "Now stay in bed and drink plenty of tea and we shall see you late tonight."

* * * * *

Mary had stayed in bed while her family prepared for their outing, then hurriedly got up and dressed on her own. She hated lying to her parents, but told herself this was all for the greater good. She made sure that the coals in the fire were out before leaving for the lake on foot.

Closing the door behind her, she looked around at her surroundings. If the grounds of Croome Park were to be her jail as the wife of Coventry, she may as well learn the better parts of it. The sky was sapphire blue with large white clouds overhead. Sparrows and bugs chirped in the grasses along the road. It wasn't a far walk, merely half an hour to the edge of the wooden dock.

The lake covered over an acre, framed by trees on all sides. A lone rowboat sat at the edge. Mary steadied herself in, loosened the rope and slowly paddled out to the center. She removed the handkerchief from her pocket and looked at it. She held it against her cheek one last time and then deeply inhaled the spicy scent trapped on it from sitting in his breast pocket.

She closed her eyes and was transported back to last night. His beautiful eyes, and his warm embrace flooded back into her conscious. She had felt something new last night; perhaps love. But she had never been in love and wouldn't know it if she had felt it at all. To maintain her sanity in the coming days she would now have to let him go and never think on him again. She raised the kerchief above her head.

Goodbye, Mr. Deerhurst,she thought to herself and threw the cloth, watching it twist through the air before gently landing on the surface of the lake. It bobbed on the water for a moment, and then slowly disappeared below the swells. Mary watched for what seemed like an eternity as it vanished from sight. She had the sudden urge to grab it out of the water but stilled herself. She needed to stay strong. Her heart ached, and she allowed herself one last moment to think about him.

"Goodbye, Will," she said, her eyes tearing once more before she brushed them away, straightened up with a determined smile and reached for the oars...

The oars! She looked over the side as one of the paddles went floating by, well out of reach. Heart beating out of her chest she reached to the other side, only to see the second oar further away than the first.

"Oh, bloody hell!" she swore out loud. Mary dipped a hand into the water of the lake and quickly withdrew it with a gasp. It was ice cold. She was stranded, and there wasn't a soul around. She cursed herself for her dramatic send off of Mr. Deerhurst's handkerchief and looked up as the sun-spackled lake suddenly darkened. The white clouds had now turned gray and menacing. Rain would shortly follow; the birds had gone silent, taking refuge.

She looked around at her suddenly horrid situation debating whether she should scream for help. She could scream herself blue; no one would hear. Everyone was away for the afternoon, or indoors as any sane person would be this time of year. Something stirred and she heard what she thought was distant thunder. It grew rhythmic. Horse's hooves.Oh thank you God,this was her only chance.

"Pardon me!" she shouted at the sound of the approaching hooves, "I seem to have gotten myself into a bit of a situation. I'm sorry to trouble you but would you be able to he—"

She stopped cold. It couldn't be. Of all the people out riding by all the lakes in all of jolly old England to come along! Mr. Deerhurst on a beautiful sable colored stallion raised a hand over his eyes to get a good look at her predicament. She felt relief and anxiety all at once.

"Are you all right?" He rode to the dock and dismounted, "You said you needed help?"

"Mr. Deerhurst! I... I said no such thing," Mary shouted across the lake.

"Your oars floating on the lake would suggest otherwise," Will shouted back.

"No, they are just... out of reach. I can get them, honestly."

"Please let me throw you the rope. It is going to rain soon."

"I'm fine, thank you," she said stretching out her arms, "I can reach just a little furth—"

She lost her balance and shrieked as first her arm then her head, then the rest of her tumbled out of the boat and into the frigid water with a loud splash.

"MARY!" Will threw off his riding coat and dove into the water, boots and all, expertly making a beeline through the water to the empty boat. He ignored the freezing chill running up his spine and he swam on.

Mary's head came up, gasping for air, limbs flailing in the water, "Will!!" She could only manage the one word. The freezing water had sucked the air out of her lungs. Her head went under again and she smacked useless hands down on the water, trying to claw her way back up. A muscular arm hooked her from behind, dragging her to the surface. Air filled her lungs suddenly and forcefully then she felt only blackness as the cold overwhelmed her senses.

Will braced her with his left, holding her limp form close to his chest, and swam backward to the shore with his right hand. He lifted her to the deck and jumped out to examine her.

"Mary! Mary, open your eyes. Please..." he tapped her cheek lightly until she coughed and looked up at him.

"Will?" she said before slumping over again.

Her lips were purple and her clothing dripped, sopping wet. There was no time for propriety. He didn't want to lose her, "I'm sorry about this Mary, but we don't have a choice at the moment," he stripped off her cold waterlogged dress over her head. Drawing a pocketknife from the pack at the side of his horse he deftly cut through the strings of her stay, releasing the stiff wet garment from her form until she lay trembling on the dock in her chemise. He tried in vain to ignore the silhouette of hardened pink nipples and the creamy silk of her flesh ghosting through the wet material.