Healing the Bloodlands

After three songs, Emma found the composure to tear her eyes away from the magnificence in front of her and work her way towards the refreshments table. The conversations around her were proving useless and she reminded herself that she was here with a mission. If people weren't talking about anything of value here, maybe she just needed to keep moving.

As Emma reached the table she pulled closer to a pair of men discussing something in hushed voices. The music and clamor made their hushed attempts somewhat futile. "Some kind of ceremony, but he wouldn't say anything else." The one man was saying. "He was very upset when I thought I wasn't going to be able to make it. You know with Maude doing as poorly as she is. But, he was very insistent. So here I am."

Emma took a small glass and added a ladleful of punch to give her an excuse to stay close and listen.

"Yes, very odd." The other man agreed.

Emma stared at the table in front of her, trying to drown out the other sounds of the room and hear what these men were saying. There was a man in a fancy hunting uniform standing next to her on the other side, but she didn't bother to look over. The first man was starting to say something but he was turning his face away and she couldn't quite make out what he was talking about. Something about seeing all the heads of the families.

"Those are my favorites," a soft voice said next to Emma and she realized a little too late that she was being addressed. She turned to the uniformed figure next to her, realizing that it was neither a man nor a stranger. Sarah Weatherly stood looking down at her with a broad smile. Her short brown hair was pulled back by several small metal clips and she was wearing a man's hunting uniform perfectly tailored to fit her toned figure. She was in her late twenties and tall for a woman, though not ungainly so. Her brown eyes were warm and inviting, same as her voice. She was a regular at the Belmont manor. She rode over every Friday to spend the day in Master Belmont's library, trading in several of the books she'd borrowed the week before for new ones. She would sit for hours in the bay window of the library reading and snacking on whatever the master sent in the way of food by way of his many kitchen servants. Emma had been that servant on many occasions, though Sarah had always been deeply engrossed in her books. No one notices a servant.

Emma was vaguely aware that she should respond, but had missed what Sarah said entirely. "Hmm?"

"Those tarts," Sarah said, pointing to the grouping of small tarts with red and white swirled frosting that Emma had inadvertently been staring at while she was listening to the men. "Those are my favorites."

"Oh," Emma blushed at the compliment the other woman couldn't know she had given. "Sorry," she added and stepped away to give Sarah access to her favorite treat.

"No," Sarah smiled even wider, her expression somehow becoming even more gentle. "I meant you should try one. You've been staring at them."

"Oh, yeah," Emma sputtered, reaching out to take one as directed. Looking down at the creation in her hand, Emma realized that despite having made hundreds of these in her time here, she'd never actually eaten a finished one. She took a slow bite under the watchful eye of the woman beside her. "Mmm," she moaned involuntarily. Damn I'm good, Emma thought to herself before chastising her lack of humility. I've taken on too much of Gretchen into my character.

Sarah was staring at her. Her eyes had taken on a glow and for a moment Emma found she couldn't look away. Luckily, Sarah released her, closing her eyes to chuckle at Emma's reaction. "See, I told you."

The rest of the tart followed as Emma finished her treat and smiled sheepishly. Sarah was watching her again and she wasn't sure what she should do. Suddenly remembering the men and the conversation she had been listening to, Emma turned to her left only to find the men had moved on and she had no idea where. She was back to square one and Miss Weatherly was still staring at her. She must recognize me. Emma realized, slowly turning back to the striking woman beside her. The thought of running struck her again, but what good would it do. There were a hundred people between her and the door. Even if she ran out the back towards the servant's areas, they would catch her sooner or later. Maybe Sarah would stay silent if Emma begged.

Sarah wasn't smiling when Emma turned back towards her. She had a look of confidence and determination on her face instead. Emma opened her mouth to defend herself and her actions, but found she had no words.

"May I have this dance?" Sarah asked, extending her hand towards Emma, palm up and inviting. The smile was back but this time laced with that same determination and confidence that had been the only thing there only a second before.

Relief washed over Emma. It wasn't recognition that she was seeing in Sarah's face, it was interest. Emma had always been considered pretty and apparently her duo of dressers had brought out a whole other level of attractive. Maybe this woman found her comely. That was why people asked someone to dance, right? "I don't know how," Emma admitted, sadly. She was pretty sure she would enjoy dancing with this woman very much.

"That's okay," Sarah said, clearly encouraged by the fact Emma had not technically said no. "I'll show you."

The outstretched hand hadn't moved, so hesitantly, Emma took it and followed a grinning Sarah onto the dance floor. They started simple, Sarah placing Emma's left hand on the taller woman's shoulder and holding her right hand. Sarah's right hand was at the small of Emma's back, holding her several inches away from her own body. "Push back into my hand," Sarah instructed and Emma felt a tingle run to the tip of her toes as doing so increased the contact of Sarah's hand just above the hoop of her skirt. "Think of your right hand as the reins. I'll use it and my hand on your back to guide you. Just follow my lead and keep pressure against my hands so you can feel the instructions."

Emma nodded. Following directions was something she was very good at. She hoped the skill would transfer over.

For the first song, Emma's eyes remained locked on the floor, trying to make her feet match Sarah's. She couldn't get the timing right. The music wasn't matching the dancers' feet. They were matching the music and she couldn't find the beat they all seemed to follow instinctively. Instead, she kept stepping on Sarah's finely polished boots and bumping into her, constantly reminding herself to put pressure on Sarah's hands.

The song seemed to last forever and no time at all as she struggled through every second only to get to the end feeling like she'd accomplished nothing. She pushed back from Sarah, shaking her head apologetically. "I'm sorry. I...I can't...clearly." She felt on the verge of tears half from embarrassment and half for how desperately she wanted to be good at this just so she could stay here in Sarah's arms. Despite every step being a struggle, the warmth of Sarah's hand on her back and in her hand felt reassuring and safe.

"Try again," Sarah replied, her tone almost begging. Her hands gripped Emma as if she were a lifeline.

Emma stopped trying to pull away and allowed herself to be brought back into the dancer's hold again.

"This time don't look down. Keep your eyes on mine and just feel how I move. Let the top half of your body follow mine and your feet will figure out where to be to keep you next to me." Sarah coached, reaching out to tuck an errant hair behind Emma's ear.

The music was picking up again and around them the dancers were finding the beat once again and flowing around the floor. Emma locked on Sarah's eyes and for a moment her breath caught at the glow that had returned to them. They were almost golden in the light from the chandeliers. There was a contentedness and a want in them that Emma didn't think she'd ever seen in anyone's eyes before and she had the vague idea that this look was for her.

Emma didn't even feel her feet beneath her, all sense of consciousness was in her eyes and the two spots where Sarah was touching her. She was floating. Stepping on clouds as much as the floor until she felt her foot come down on Sarah's boot again. Her eyes lurched to the floor and she was back in the grand hall stumbling to not look like an idiot.

Fingers curled under her chin tipping her face up and she was lost in Sarah's gaze and movements again. She tripped three more times before the new song ended, but she was pulled back in every time. She didn't even consider pulling away this time and was immediately swept into the next song. Sarah introduced turns and spins, giggling kindly when the pair stumbled and caught themselves. Emma found her strain and fear slowly slipping away and even joined Sarah in her giggles after the fourth trip.

By the fifth song, Sarah and Emma moved across the floor like one entity. It wasn't perfect and Emma guessed it wasn't exactly beautiful to watch but she felt beautiful doing it. Sarah made her feel beautiful. She was looking at her like she was the only person in the room, using solely her peripheral vision to keep from knocking into other couples.

As the sixth song came to an end, Sarah slowed and Emma was afraid she was going to thank her for her time and move on. She'd successfully taught the small woman to dance and now she would move on to other prospects. Maybe ones who really could dance.

They'd stopped dancing, but Sarah hadn't let go. Emma wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. She was trying to read the odd look in Sarah's eyes, but was getting very little in terms of what she intended.

After several beats, Sarah leaned forward, her face only inches from Emma's. "May I kiss you?" She breathed.

Emma gasped. She supposed the night had been leading to this but she still hadn't expected it. But one thing she knew for sure, she definitely wanted Sarah to kiss her. She wanted to feel those pink lips on hers and know how they tasted, how they felt, what she would do with them. She'd been kissed before, by masters, by fellow servants, but they'd never asked permission. They'd simply grabbed her when they felt like it and done as little or as much with her body as they wanted and then left when they were satisfied. At fourteen, her mother had taught her about sex before she left the farm. She was to avoid it as long as possible, to do it with as few people as possible, until she found a man she loved and then marry him. But her mother had also been a practical woman who understood what happened to women who were both small and poor. The most important thing was to be safe and sometimes that meant letting men do what they wanted with meek limitations. It had been eight years since she'd left the farm and Emma had managed to avoid both pregnancy and marriage.

She'd never been asked and more than that, she'd never been asked by a woman. The idea thrilled and scared her. How would it be different? Would she be expected to be different? What would people think?

The idea of other people brought Emma harshly back to the reality around her. She was supposed to be blending in. She was supposed to be listening to find out anything that might prove important for her fellow servants. Kissing a woman in the middle of the dance floor didn't seem like blending in. "Won't everyone else...?" She started, not knowing what exactly she was afraid everyone would do and not wanting to say no either.

Sarah clearly heard the lack of a no. She was leaning even closer, her forehead all but touching Emma's. Emma could feel their hair intermingling as Sarah's rough breathing lifted and lowered her head against Emma almost imperceptibly. "They don't care," Sarah whispered. "They know who I am. They take advantage of it when it pleases them and the rest of the time they make a concerted effort to ignore me."

Sarah was intoxicatingly close. Emma could feel the taller woman's breath washing over her with just a hint of the smell of her strawberry tarts. Their foreheads were fully touching now and their noses brushed as Sarah rocked her chin forward, offering again. When Emma hesitated, still unsure of herself, Sarah pulled back, taking it as silent rejection.

"Please," Emma managed to plead as Sarah started to retreat. A relieved and excited smile spread across Sarah's face. Emma saw it for only a moment before she felt it, Sarah's smile pressed against hers. And then Sarah was kissing her like no one had ever kissed Emma before. It was soft and gentle yet excited and passionate. It had none of the force or coercion that had defined Emma's experiences before this, but there was no denying the hunger that Sarah put into the kiss. Sarah wanted more than this, but she also wanted this. The first kiss was long and slow, then Sarah pulled back ever so slightly, just enough that their lips separated entirely with a soft smacking noise. Emma felt exhilarated but also deeply disappointed. It had been so wonderful but it felt so short. Had she done something wrong? Maybe Sarah would let her try again like with the dancing.

Emma barely had time to question herself before Sarah tipped her head to the side and pressed in again, her lips quickly finding Emma's in a searing kiss that made Emma pull back to gasp for air. It was Sarah's turn to look concerned but the expression didn't last as Emma took the initiative, wrapping her arms around Sarah's neck to pull her down again.

Sarah's fingers were in Emma's hair tipping her head back and pulling her deeper into the kiss. Emma's whole body was on fire in a way she'd never felt before. It tingled in her fingers and toes but centered in her gut and lower between her legs. She wanted to stay in this moment forever, her heart pounding in her ears and Sarah's body pressed against her own.

Sarah pulled back again, smiling down at Emma as if in awe. "You are so beautiful, Emma."

The pounding of Emma's heart skipped a beat and suddenly the room was spinning. She tried to pull away, but Sarah held on. It was a good thing as Emma's knees went weak beneath her. I never told her my name. If she had it would have been Mary. Her brain replayed the moments of the evening as if her life were passing before her eyes in the abridged, recent history version. She'd definitely not told Sarah her name, nor gotten Sarah's in return. They had simply danced together as if they already knew.

"You know who I am?" Emma gasped as Sarah held her up, fear written across her face.

"Of course, I know who you are. I've seen you almost every week for years." Sarah replied still clearly confused by Emma's reaction.

Emma swallowed hard, trying to get her feet under her. She would need them in order to run. "No one notices a servant," Emma whispered, tears springing to her eyes unbidden. And tonight had been going so well. She tried to pull away again, but Sarah's grip was too tight around her upper arms. Maybe if she struck Sarah everyone would think she was reacting to the kiss. Maybe they would be on the stranger's side just long enough for her to make a break for it.

"No one dances with me," Sarah said. And for a moment, she had Emma's attention. She didn't waste the moment of undivided attention. "No one notices a servant, but I do. No one dances with me, but you do."

"I...You..." Emma tried to find words but her thoughts were too jumbled to even find a subject to her sentence.

"Miss Jessip, is this woman bothering you?" Their not so private moment had caught the attention of their host, for whom Emma knew this evening was supposed to be perfect. Now he had to figure out how to address two women whose money he clearly valued.

The grip on Emma's arms was immediately released as Sarah took in the scene from an outsider's perspective. She took a step back, smiling as if nothing were the matter. Emma for one was simply happy that she managed to stay on her own two feet. "No," Emma replied, finding her voice. The last thing she needed was to put her word against Miss Weatherly. The sooner everyone returned to their party, the sooner she could get the Hell out of it. "I'm fine. Thank you." Emma fixed her gaze on Sarah, silently pleading with her to say the same.

"She just got a little dizzy," Sarah said by way of explanation. "I'm told I do that to women," she added with a suggestive wink.

Master Belmont's jaw hung slack for half a second and his cheeks reddened before he could pull himself fully back together. "Yes, well, Miss Jessip is my guest. I expect her to be treated well." The charming gentleman mask was back on if somewhat askew.

"Oh, I intend to, Ranald" Sarah winked again, dismissing Master Belmont better than any other statement could have.

"How do you do that?" Emma asked once the master was fully out of earshot and everyone around them had gone back to ignoring the degenerate display in front of them. As much as she wanted to get back to the safety of the servants' quarters, this woman continued to captivate her.

Sarah smiled at the small woman in front of her, apparently pleased just by her continued presence. "I scare them. I disgust them. It used to make me feel horrible, but one day I realized that they need me a lot more than I need them. And so, when I want them to leave me alone, I rub it in their faces and they run like the cowards they are." She said it so matter-of-factly that Emma found herself wanting to object. How could anything about this wonderful woman be disgusting. Scary, sure, she'd been scared too, but never disgusted.

Now what? Emma wondered. She couldn't stay, but she really, really didn't want to leave. "I have to..." She began, stepping away.

"Please don't leave," Sarah said, stepping forward into the vacated space. Her long stride put her within inches of Emma and the servant felt the intoxicating presence once more. "Emma, I really like you. I don't know what you're afraid of, but you don't need to be afraid of me. If you don't want me to kiss you again, I won't. Just please don't leave."

Emma didn't know what to say and for once was glad of it. The music stopped abruptly and she could only imagine what her loudly spoken response might have been. Instead, Emma's answer was provided for her.

"Fireworks!" Master Belmont called to the room. "To the balcony."

Sarah reached out her hand in offering and Emma took it, letting her guide the way to the balcony and the start of the fireworks show. Behind her, servants poured into the room silent and unseen. They removed the drinks and remaining refreshments, replacing them with Emma's confectioneries and then disappearing as they had been instructed.

The sky lit up with blues, greens, reds, and golds as the crowd oohed and aahed. The crack of small explosions and smell of gunpowder filled the air. Emma stared up at the display with captivated wonder, unknowingly matching the expression of the woman watching her instead of the light show. Both were sure they were witnessing the most beautiful thing they would ever see.

An especially large explosion lit up the crowd and Emma caught her admirer out of the corner of her eye. She turned to smile at the taller woman, no longer so enthralled by the fireworks.

"I want to..." Sarah began, running her hand up Emma's shoulder and neck to cup her face.

"I want you to," Emma provided, leaning into the space and meeting Sarah's lips half way. They kissed as they had on the dance floor, the rest of the world dissolving around them.

The brush of people streaming past them, being none too careful to avoid minor collisions, broke the kiss. Emma and Sarah grinned at each other before turning to follow their fellow party-goers back into the grand hall. As the group collected on the dance floor, Sarah pulled Emma towards the back of the room. They would have more privacy and could continue their making out in peace while the rest of the crowd moved on with whatever was planned next.