Duplicity - Final

After an age, it was time to join the ladies again. Whilst tables were set up. Bess sat at the pianoforte, expertly banging out a piece by Handel. She played well. If she had hoped Lord Davenport would turn the sheet music, he disappointed her by turning his back to the room to admire finished the lifesize portrait of Evelyn hanging in pride of place.

"Why Lord Davenport," Ann said as she approached him. She glanced up at the painting that had his attention. "It's rather curious for a man to be so mesmerized by a portrait of his wife when the lady is no more than a few paces from him."

Lord Davenport did not take his eyes from the life-size oil. "I prefer portraiture. You have the beauty forever, but unblemished by lies and deceit. "

Evelyn rose to her feet and excused herself. She hurried down the enfilade blindly, as fast her swollen feet would let her. Finally her bulk, her aching legs forced her to stop.

Yet, without turning around she knew he was there. She could smell him. The smell of the woods after a rainstorm. She whirled around to face him. He bore down on her in a mask of seething anger between flashes of a deeply wounded look in his eyes. All this for her disobedience? She felt her own anger rise. But that anger was towards herself. For what exactly had she sacrificed? She's had no word from Elwood at all since the day Sir Richard's house burned to the ground.

"If I could, I would take it all back-" She shivered, and he took it for a flinch

"You needn't worry. I won't touch you."

Instantly, Evelyn recalled their last time together. She spent several lonely months remembering that moment. It never occurred to her he imagined his touch offended her. Could it be he thinks she didn't enjoy it? "Please, sir -"

He held up a hand as she approached. "You plan to leave again?"

"I'll stay till after the child arrives. Unless you'd rather I didn't."

"My lord, I-"

He sighed deeply, then lifted a hand to her rounded belly. Long fingers, splayed out, hovered over her but did not touch her. "I won't touch you again. Not until you ask me to. Only I know you won't." The hand clenched into a fist and dropped to his side. He turned and hurried down the enfilade.

*****************************

Lady Ann would not have met Henry Wilkes in a rather inconspicuous room at the Stag had he not promised to make it worth her while. And enough time passed, her anger and fear of him had faded. She had been so lonely out here in the country.

So she almost gleeful donned her maid's cloak and slipped away with only Jeffrey for protection.

"Proven useful, has he?" Henry asked once the door closed them in, with Jeffrey posted outside to keep intruders out.

Ann sauntered into the room. "He's completely my creature. You needn't be concerned."

Henry went to her and tenderly kissed her hands, one after the other. It's been so long since she felt a man's touch, that even his soft hands made her tingle. The secrecy of their assignation made it all that much more delicious.

"It's been far too long," Henry muttered. "I'm glad you decided to see me."

Ann let him kiss her, deeply. Just as she leaned in for more, he chuckled throatily. "It'll have to be a quick one ol' girl. I daren't dawdle so close to my wife's childhood home. Should I be discovered- well, it'll raise too many questions."

"Your wife is- where exactly?"

"Stuffing her face with cream tarts with her pig of a mother somewhere," Henry snorted. "This is the wedding trip she always wanted. Whether I'm there or not, hardly matters. I doubt she knows or cares that her childhood home has burned to the ground."

"With Davenport so close by, I'm sure you're eager not to cross paths," Ann teased.

Henry Wilkes narrowed his eyes before lightly pushing her back onto the narrow bed. He eased himself between her legs and fumbled to release his cock. "From your letter, Davenport has more immediate worries than me."

"If you were ever a worry at all."

He squeezed her breasts cruelty but released her when she swatted at him. "No, Lord Davenport was far too busy escorting my wife's sister, and several other ladies, about town. You've clearly overestimated his affections for his little wife."

Ann winced when he speared her. "I'm not wrong. Davenport never had a taste for vacuous beauties. Something else is at work here. For a man jealous of his privacy, it's though he wants it to be known he's been carrying on with others."

Henry's mind was clearly elsewhere and he was quickly losing steam. "Perhaps you don't know him as well as you think?"

Ann suppressed a sneer. She got on her hands and knees and presented her backside to him. "No man's ever worked so hard to feign indifference. When Evelyn's back's turned, when he thinks no one else notices, he lets his guard down. Those longing lingering gazes made me embarrassed for him. Whatever happened it's tearing him to bits."

"Wouldn't exactly tell you would he? " Henry said as he squeezed his eyes shut. His equipment was failing him fast.

With a resigned sigh, Ann fell back upon the lumpy bed. She gestured for him to do what he will. "Do take greater care," she warned him. "If I scream too loudly, the men breaking down this door will likely be your father-in-law's tenants."

"My lady." He kissed her hand gallantly. Then, with a gleeful grin, he grabbed ahold of her neck and flung her back violently on the bed. He fell on top of her, holding her arms down and tore at her clothes with his teeth. "Is this how he used you?"

"Henry-"

"Tell me, how does Lord Davenport force you to take him?"

Ann held back her whimpers as he pushed and pulled on her nipples with growing excitement.

"Is that how he does it?"

She wondered, not for the first time if Henry Wilkes imagined himself being Lord Davenport. Or if he imagined being with Lord Davenport.

"Lord St. James came to the Hall," she cried out in an attempt to distract him.

Henry laughed out loud but didn't let up. "He dared leave Prince Edward's side? Oh, do tell!"

"A few nights ago. Claimed to look in on his wife, but he barely noticed her. Then rushed off again."

"Was Bess able to keep off Lord Davenport long enough to receive her husband?"

"Just."

Henry's smile widened wolfishly. His hooded eyes sparkled with excitement. "I'm sure St. James would have enjoyed the show."

"He certainly didn't stay long. I think he was most eager to rejoin Prince Edward. Sell that to whichever gossip rag you'd like."

"I might try my hands at writing a play, I think," Henry quipped. "Another School for Scandal perhaps."

"Yes. Only it's not truly a menage is it."

"Tell me, has my wife's pretty sister shared with you how Lord Davenport fucks her?"

"Lady St. James is unusually reticent, " Ann confessed. "He may not be amusing himself with her exclusively, but she's completely lost herself in him."

"You wouldn't be holding back would you?"

Ann tried to feign amusement even as she winced in pain. "Have I kept anything from you?"

"Ann, Ann." He gave her a small slap across the face. It wasn't meant to hurt but to humiliate. "Of course you would. I'm sure it reminds you of the way he used to fuck you."

The jaded Lady Ann coloured like a schoolgirl. "Henry, I-" she gasped when he wrapped a hand around her throat and pressed down her arms and legs with his.

"Can you imagine," he hissed in her face, "how he must make her scream the way he uses to make you scream? Oh Ann. You're so wet-"

He produced a cord and expertly looped it around her neck, around her arms in a fashion that bound her up like reigns. When he pushed into her narrow passage from behind, there was nowhere for her to escape. "Please- Henry. You're hurting me."

He gripped the cord tighter, ripping the flesh around her forearms. "His filth all over her body, the way it used to be on yours. How you must miss it. You disgusting whores, the lot of you."

He sliced into her, dry. Again and again. Ann might have screamed out loud from the excruciating pain if his fingers around her throat hadn't cut off her air. She couldn't fight back with her hands trapped under her. Her eyes bulged. Just before she lost consciousness, she saw a handsome, grim face. Dark hair, pale blue eyes. Tears streamed down the corners of her eyes.

************

"How much longer must she stay here?" Charlotte said to Philip when they were alone. "The Season must have begun again and yet she still lingers."

"Which, she?" her brother asked wryly.

"Both I suppose. Lady St. James is a common thing, but Lady Ann I've never trusted."

Philip coloured a bit as he stole a sheepish glance at his sister. "She's she's"

"I've never trusted her," Charlotte continued. "She has this way of making you say things you don't mean to- it's unnatural the way she draws you in. Just listen to me. Do not entangle yourself with her."

"Oh I'm safe from her I'm sure."

"Do stay clear of Lady St. James too. That one's too much like Clara."

"Clara?" Philip almost laughed. "My sweet sister you do live in the past."

"Well, not exactly alike. There are just enough similarities though. She's got ambition, that one. And she won't let decency or scruples stand in her way."

"Perhaps you ought to warn John"

"If I think he'd listen," Charlotte said, bluntly. "Eventually he'll come to his senses I suppose. It's what men do. But under the same roof as his expectant wife- And with you here? Eventually, she'll be wanting to sink her claws into someone else. So be sharp."

"No, mustn't have anyone's claws in me," Philip grumbled.

At last, Charlotte went to Evelyn. "Surely, your guests ought to return home soon. The Season will begin again. At least, Lady St. James ought l rejoin her husband instead of languishing here at your hospitality."

Evelyn knew what Charlotte meant. But she had grown to resent Charlotte's meddling. Always second guessing, countermanding Evelyn's every decision. While she knew Charlotte was right, she couldn't simply give in to this as well. "It would be rather unneighborly to cast her out when she had only just returned."

"How long does it take to rebuild a house?" Charlotte asked. "What of her husband? Why did he not take her with him when he stopped here? Have they no proper house of their own?"

Exhausted, Evelyn rubbed her temples as Charlotte continued on and on. She stubbornly refused to say it, but her heart knew Charlotte was right. She dared not examine why everyone seemed to look at her with pity. She convinced herself it's simply that she felt so out of sorts. Distorted and fat.

That night she went straight to bed after supper. Sometime much later, she woke up to the sound of pouring rain beating against her window pane. She laid in bed staring up at the underside of the canopy bed. It wasn't the pains in her hips and back that woke her. Though it did play a part. But there was a tempest in her more violent than the lashing tree branches against her windows. Someone had left the drapes open.

She had no idea how long she laid there. Finally, sleep still eluding her, Evelyn heaved herself out of bed. Walk. She needed to move her legs to ease the soreness. Yes. After a while, the aches did ease somewhat. She caught a glimpse of herself in her dressing mirror. What she saw shocked her. Was that truly her? She touched the sharp bones of her cheeks, her sunken eyes and felt a pang of regret for her lost beauty that she had always taken for granted. This woman with limp curls was a complete stranger. No wonder her husband wouldn't look at her anymore. She quickly tore her gaze away. Keep pacing. Keep walking.

A flash of lightning illuminated the night sky. It made her look out beyond the odd dark shapes in what must be the gardens to a great gnarled tree. A bare-branched, dead oak that somehow escaped anyone's notice. It reminded her of her recurring nightmare. She quickly drew shut the drapes, her heart pounding. Another sharp pain made her moan out loud. Keep moving.

Soon, she waddled into the corridors. How different the Hall was late at night without bodies coming and going. Cool and quiet it was. The yawning silence no longer frightened her. Not with a distance thunder rumbling overhead. She followed the winding corridors, uncertain of where she was going. A flash of lightning lit up the great hall, washing everything in a greyish haze. This night reminded her of another, in another place. Only she couldn't remember. Keep walking. The aches in her hips and knees dulled with every step. Evelyn caressed her swollen belly and let her bare feet take her where they may.

Another flash of lightning illuminated everything. What was that? The dancing shadows came from below stairs. It came from the north library. Soft moans and rapping, at first faint, grew louder as she approached. A maid with a footman, surely. This simply couldn't stand. The north library was where Lord Davenport kept his most important papers. One way or another, she will run this house as she saw fit.

It took her some time to make it down the stairs. Her hands guiding her down the handrail. Lightning lit up the house further. Illuminating the veins of every crevice. The house was alive, breathing. Panting. Then came a clasp of thunder. She followed the pulse towards the light.

******************************

There was something familiar about this night. It wasn't the dampness or the chill. It was something else in the air that recalled for Lord Davenport another night he couldn't quite place. He had stayed up late to pore over his ledgers and documents. So lost was in his the household accounts that he didn't hear a thing until a pair of slender arms slid around his shoulders. Bess nibbled his lobe. "My lord, I've been waiting."

He shrugged her off. "Not now."

She wouldn't be brushed off. "Now."

He pushed back from his desk. Long legs outstretched. He combed his fingers through his thick black hair. "I shouldn't have brought you back here."

"No?"

He ducked away from her touch, "This can't continue, you know."

Bess lifted her gown and straddled his lap, with one hand fumbling the front of his trousers. "Do I not please you anymore, my lord? Ah! But I think I do. Perhaps not here. Make love to me where you took me the first time."

He wanted to push her away, but his fingers gripped her slender hips, that turned into more of a caress. Just once more, he told himself.

Bess shrugged out of the sleeves of her gown to expose her small pert breasts. "Feel how my heart beats for you."

He had no interest in that. Instead, he quickly unfastened his trousers and pulled her down. The warmth of a woman's body, any woman's body, would do. This thirst must be quenched. Vintage didn't matter.

"You need me," she was saying. He bucked up into her over and over, hoping to finish quickly and send her on her way.

Another flash of lightning lit up the room. It turned the window panes into mirrors. He looked up then and locked eyes with their silent witness.

He flung Bess off him, and jumped to his feet. Heart pounding in his ears. "Evelyn-"

Lord and Lady Davenport locked eyes. The look on her face was one he wouldn't soon forget. She was as she always was. Achingly beautiful. But something in her had changed.

Neither noticed Bess had hastily crawled away and ducked behind his chair. He would have stood, only to realize the state he was in. He quickly straightened his clothing and spun around towards the door, but Evelyn was gone.

"Eve- Evelyn!" He called after her. He took two steps. Then stopped. He had imagined so many times the moment he flung his liaison in his wife's face. Show her how indifferent he was to her. Should she accuse him, he would tell her he knew of Ainsley Elwood, and dare her to create a fuss. It was to be a moment of his triumph over her. He did not expect this icy terror to spread from head to toe. For a moment he felt lightheaded and nearly ill. That look on Evelyn's face- it immobilized him. Her familiar eyes, nose, mouth had taken on the appearance of a stranger.

"My lord?" Bess whimpered. He looked down at her, crouched behind his chair, desperate to hid her naked shame. Evelyn's visage flashed before him. Disoriented, he stared at Bess' shamed face and couldn't for the life of him recall why she was there. Before he could react - ask her how she came to be there- thundering pounding at the front entrance disrupted the silence.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Who could it be this late at night? It felt more tangible to act, than try to work out what had happened. So Lord Davenport charged past Bess, out into the foyer. A groggy footman had already pulled open the heavy wooden doors. A sheet of torrential rain blew in three men in near identical hats and cloaks. Elwood brought up the rear, behind Philip and Lord Milton. All three men had the gloomy look of pallbearers as they took off their drenched hats to face Lord Davenport.

"Forgive me, my lord but we bring terrible news," Elwood was the first to speak. Was he here for Evelyn?

"Prince Edward is dead," Lord Milton announced unceremoniously.

"Only it's much, much worse," Philip added in a hushed whisper, his eyes downcast.

What were they saying? As Lord Davenport tried to make sense of what he was hearing, a stricken voice behind him made them all turn. "It can't be true!" The footman's torch swung up and illuminated Evelyn as she leaned over the landing rails, her long dark hair in curtains around her pallor. Her image pierced through Lord Davenport's daze. He wanted to call out to her. He must speak to her alone. But she did not see him as she directed her attention to Elwood. "It's not true. Say it isn't true," she insisted.

"Evie-" Elwood looked up at her, his face wet from the rain or something else. "We came as soon as we could."

A little hiccup caught in Evelyn's throat. Then suddenly she slipped from view. In two beats they were all rushing for the stairs. Lord Davenport reached her first, just in time to catch her slumped, lifeless form before it rolled down the stairs.

"Good God," was all Lord Davenport could think to say as he cradled her limp body to his chest. Her skin looked waxy, dead, in the dim torchlight.

By then, much of the household had appeared. "My lord!" the housekeeper cried out and pointed to a dark stain blooming down Evelyn's white gown. "Send for a doctor. Quickly! Boil water! I think the child's coming!"

Voices. People rushed around as he carried a slumped Evelyn to her chambers and bed. He wanted to crawl into bed beside her, but he was being forced out.

"This is women's work," he was told, by Philip of all people.

"Will she be alright?"

"She's strong," Elwood replied, unconvincingly.

"Well, this calls for a toast." Lord Milton's was the only cheerful voice. "Toast to your son and heir, Davenport. A bit of brightness amidst tragedy."

Evelyn's door shut firmly in his face, Lord Davenport had no choice but to let himself be led woodenly away. Her last haunting expression haunted him. Fear and dread turned his limbs stiff. The men congregated around the first carved bench they came to. Lord Davenport sat down heavily while the others huddled around him to keep what they were about to relay from the servants who rushed to and fro.

"...Terrible business. Rumours are an inevitability. But if they could guess at even half the truth- the scandal- Those who loved the young prince will be gravely injured by what they might be said-"

Lord Davenport turned his cold blue glare on Elwood. "What are you on about?"

Some silent agreement passed between other men. Then Elwood gave a resigned incline of his head. "I suppose there's no reason to keep up pretences now. You see, my lord, I've known Lady Davenport all my life. I dare call myself a loyal friend to her, and to Prince Edward."