by Amelia Wren
Lady Elsa Takes a Lover
Amelia Wren
“Oh, please don’t go!” I cried, taking my mother by the hands and beseeching her from the bottom of my heart. “I simply cannot endure one more day—nay, one more moment of this wretched isolation!”
“I’m terribly sorry, my darling girl. I do wish I could stop a bit longer, but as you well know, I have certain social obligations that I must attend to,” Mother said.
“You can’t leave me alone, Mother! You simply can’t!”
Dropping to my knees, I clasped my hands together under my chin as if in prayer and looked up at her through the tears in my eyes.
“If you leave me here on my own, I will most certainly go mad,” I informed her. “The next time you see me, I shall be wearing a straightjacket, for I will have been carted away and locked up in a lunatic asylum.”
Mother sighed.
“Don’t you think you’re being a tad dramatic, Elsa, darling?”
“I’m not!”
“If I were you, I would make every attempt to enjoy a life of quiet solitude. Spend your days strolling about the grounds or reading or painting. You might find that you’ve come to cherish the time spent on your own. And after all, you’ve only eight months left to go. Eight months is not very long at all.”
Flabbergasted, I replied, “Are you mad, Mother? Eight months is an eternity. It might as well be eight years!”
“All right, Elsa. That’s enough.”
She reached down to take my hands and pulled me to my feet.
“I know you’ve always been a bit theatrical, and I’ve always found it to be rather charming, but it’s starting to become tiresome. I haven’t the energy nor have I the inclination to indulge you at the moment. I do so want to return to Hartford Hall before nightfall.”
I buried my face in my hands and allowed the tears to fall freely from my eyes. How could my very own mother be so hateful? How could she leave me in this big old drafty house all on my own without a single soul to speak to? I knew without a doubt that I’d go mad before the mourning period ended. I’d go mad!
Mother evidently didn’t give a fig that my life was rapidly falling apart. As my body racked with sobs, I heard her speaking to one of the servants as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
“Has Jonah brought the brougham round?”
“Yes, milady. Mr. Murray says your cases have already been loaded onto the carriage.”
“Very well.”
I heard her footsteps increasing in volume as she crossed the room once again, and I gathered that she was returning to me.
“Elsa Elizabeth Hollingsworth, I demand you stop this nonsensical weeping at once.”
I was so shocked by her sharp tone that I obeyed her without a moment’s hesitation. I looked up to find Mother gazing at me with a stern look in her eyes and her lips tightly pursed.
“You must rein in your wits, my darling,” she said in a much softer tone of voice. “I’m perfectly aware that you thrive when you’re surrounded by friends and admirers, but it simply isn’t possible for you rejoin society until the proper amount of time has passed. Think of his lordship, Elsa. I know you were fond of your dearly departed husband. Don’t you agree that he deserves to be properly mourned?”
“Richard would most certainly not wish for me to be secluded against my will, miles away from all my family and friends,” I told her.
“Oh?” She arched a doubtful eyebrow. “He’d rather you bring down a scandal upon yourself when you appeared in society before it was acceptable for you to do so?”
I was stumped for a moment, unsure of how to answer that question.
Mother took my hands and gave them a comforting squeeze.
“Leave it to me, darling,” she said. “Once I settle back in at Hartford Hall, I shall see about penning some letters. I daresay I know of a few individuals who would be happy to pay you a call if they were invited to do so.”
And with that, my spirits soared.
“Who, Mother? Who?”
“Well, to start with there’s my dear cousin Gertrude.”
And with that, my spirits sank just a little. Cousin Gertrude was a colorless old maid; she was an absolute bore. Be that as it may, she was at least another living soul to converse with.
“And my dear old friend Lady Chatham lives not far from here. You remember her, don’t you, Elsa?”
“Vaguely. Am I correct in recalling her as the matron with an exceedingly large number of sons and daughters?”
“Exactly, yes.” Mother smiled. “Lady Chatham has a rather large brood with three daughters and four sons, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Good heavens.”
“And I’m quite certain that my dear friend would simply love to pay you a call. And if that should be impossible for any reason, I know she would be happy to send one or several of her children in her stead,” Mother said.
That was splendid news indeed. My memory of Lady Chatham’s children was quite hazy, for it had been nearly a decade since our families visited with one another, but I looked forward to the possibility of associating with callers of any sort, especially if they were close to me in age. Lady Chatham and Cousin Gertrude were fine ladies and I would have been terribly delighted to welcome them in my home, but I daresay it would probably be a bit more amusing to entertain callers who were closer to me in age.
After Mother departed Hollingsworth Manor, I flung myself down on the fainting couch, feeling rather sorry for myself, indeed. Whilst the promise of visitors had undeniably lifted my spirits, it would be quite some time before this came to pass, and in the meantime I would have to endure the solitude.
Oh, Richard, how could you leave me on my own like this?
Contrary to what one might assume, given the fact that I was keen for the mourning period to be over and done with, I loved my husband deeply and immensely. Richard was a delightful chap. He was always up for a laugh, and when we were alone together… well, I shall just say he made me feel like a sensual goddess and leave it at that.
I had been looking forward to a long life with him, but sadly that was not to be. Richard’s life came to a tragic and untimely end at the age of two and thirty when he was killed in a hunting accident four months prior.
With a sigh, I turned over onto my back and sent up a silent prayer for his soul. And then I asked for the strength to endure the solitude I was condemned to. In fact I was only partly exaggerating when I told Mother I would surely be committed to an insane asylum very soon. I do not function well on my own. I never have.
* * * *
I know Mother did her best to arrange callers for me, but the length of time it took for her efforts to come to fruition was positively excruciating! Even if she penned the letters the very moment she returned to Hartford Hall, one had to factor in the time it took for the post to reach the proper destinations, the time it took for the recipients to respond, the time it took for their letters to reach Mother, and so forth.
Not one but two fortnights had passed before I received a letter from Mother in the post. She had yet to hear back from Cousin Gertrude, but she had got a letter from Lady Chatham who informed her with regret that she would not be able to pay a call at this time. It would seem that the old dear’s rheumatism had confined her to her bedchambers for the present and the foreseeable future. Not to worry, though. The considerate countess arranged for her son George and her daughter Caroline to pay me a visit.
I was beyond thrilled. I couldn’t quite recall George; Lady Chatham’s sons blended together in my memory, but I did remember them being a boisterous and rowdy bunch. I did, however recall spending time with Caroline. She was the meekest of the girls. I would rather have learned that Gra
ce, the eldest and most amusing Chatham daughter would be coming to call. But I was hardly one to complain. Caroline was a pleasant girl, indeed, and I was positively brimming with excitement at the prospect of their visit.
When the day arrived, I selected the least hideous of my drab black mourning gowns and was fairly pleased with my reflection in the looking glass. Unfortunately, the feeling did not last long. When my maid affixed the dreadful widow’s bonnet upon my head, I was instantly transformed into a cross between a pinched-faced old dowager and the Grim Reaper.
I was in the drawing room when I heard the carriage coming up the drive. Giddy with excitement, I flitted about the room, trying to decide where I ought to be standing when they were announced. As it happens, I was standing next to the chimneypiece when Mr. Grady entered the room.
“Lady Hollingsworth, may I present Lady Caroline Chatham and Lord George Chatham?”
And with a bow, the butler slipped away.
“How very nice to see you again,” I said, crossing the room to welcome them, and I could not have been more sincere.
Caroline was every bit as lovely as I recalled. The shy smile on her lips indicated that she had not changed in terms of personality, that she was still a bit bashful.
On the contrary, George had a mischievous sort of look in his dark brown eyes, a playful smile on his lips and a confident, carefree sort of air about him. My, but he was handsome! Tall and stately, he had a beautifully shaped face and a head of thick, dark hair. This certainly came as a surprise to me. I didn’t recall being struck by his good looks during our previous encounters, but then again, I was but a girl back then, and so perhaps I didn’t notice such things.
“The pleasure is mine, Lady Hollingsworth,” George said with a bow. “And might I say you’re every bit as lovely and enchanting as I recall.”
It was all I could do not to scoff at his remark. I knew I looked anything but lovely and enchanting in the drab ensemble of a widow.
Instead, I shot him a look of disbelief and said, “How very kind of you to say. But I must insist that you call me Elsa.”
“Only if you call me George.”
I bowed my head in a slow, deliberate nod, doing my very best to ignore the quickening of my heartbeat.
“And you must call me Caroline.”
The soft, gentle tone of my other caller’s words made my heart beat even faster, for I fretted that she had somehow sensed a change in the atmosphere. Was it clear to Caroline—or to George, for that matter—that I felt instantly drawn towards the handsome man now standing before me?
I certainly hoped not. For a widow to behave in such an inappropriate way was unthinkable. It was the sort of thing that caused the worst sort of scandal.
“I will, of course,” I said to Caroline with my brightest smile.
“Won’t you please come in?” I said, motioning for them to follow me to the clusters of sofas and chairs on the far end of the room.
We passed a delightful hour sharing news of various events that had occurred over the past decade or so. I was pleased to learn that their sister Grace was now living in Shropshire with her husband, a marquess, and their two young children. George told me about his studies at Oxford, and Caroline told me about her travels on the Continent.
After an hour or so, Caroline asked me where one might find the water closet. I explained that there was one on the other end of the hall, and she excused herself, leaving me alone in the drawing room with George.
Sadly, the relaxed, amiable atmosphere that had filled the room during their visit shifted abruptly once Caroline left the room. In any case, that was how it felt to me. George and I exchanged an awkward smile before turning our gazes quickly away from one another.
Could it be that he felt the same powerful attraction towards me that I felt towards him? It hardly seemed possible, seeing that I was clad in my drab widow’s ensemble. Even so, I had the distinct feeling that his interest in me went beyond that of a mere acquaintance. Something about the look in his dark eyes when he was asking a question or answering one of mine told me that he felt the connection just as clearly as I did.
I felt my heart pounding against my ribcage as I sat on the sofa next to George, unsure of what to say or even where to look. I found my gaze kept being drawn back to George’s thighs, which was inexcusable of course, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away. The fabric of his trousers strained against his long, lean, muscular thighs, and I couldn’t help but imagine my hands sliding up the sinews of his muscle.
Oh, how I missed the sensation of Richard’s hands on my body! How I missed his manhood pressing up against me, nudging my entrance and tunnelling through me. How I missed the sensation of being filled up by him! I felt a stirring in my nether regions, and I shifted my position ever so slightly. It was then that I realized that my drawers were already slick with my own wetness, that the effect George was having on me was even stronger than I had feared.
“Good God, woman. You are a saucy vixen, aren’t you?”
With a gasp, I glanced up at George, mortified by having been found out. But how could he possibly have known what was going through my mind or that my nether regions were slick with desire?
His eyes looked darker somehow. His lips were parted and curled up ever so slightly into a wicked smile. It took every last ounce of restraint I possessed to keep from flinging my body at him.
I was busy congratulating myself on exhibiting such admirable self-control when George proceeded to turn the situation on its ear. He reached over, took both my hands in his, and with one swift move he pulled me onto his lap.
I did not resist.
Before I knew what was happening, I was sitting astride on the lap of the handsome young man in my drawing room. I’d looped my arms around his neck, he was running his hands up and down my back, and we were kissing with a ferocious intensity. I opened my mouth, inviting him to slide his tongue in, to explore every little nook and cranny, which he did wholeheartedly.
If that was not shocking enough, I began to rock my hips slowly back and forth against him. It wasn’t long before I felt his manhood start to stiffen beneath me.
Oh, what I would have given for the chance to feel him inside of me! If only I had the power to stop time, I would have given anything to feel his manhood tearing its way through my tunnel.
Sadly, this was not to be. After a mere two minutes or so of passionate kissing that was tantamount to bliss, it all came to an abrupt end. The moment I heard the faint sound of Caroline’s boots tapping along the floor outside in the hallway, I sprung away from George and reclaimed my spot at the opposite side of the sofa. I avoided his eyes, of course, as I made every effort to gather my composure and ensure that things between George and I would not seem amiss when his sister came to rejoin us.
She entered the room with a smile, evidently none the wiser. I couldn’t be sure, of course, but it would seem that she hadn’t the foggiest idea what had just transpired. Perhaps it wasn’t so much the fact that George and I were clearly skilled at deception as it was that Caroline simply could never have imagined that we would indulge in such scandalous carrying on.
The thought that two individuals who were little more than strangers would have engaged in such an intimate act was probably beyond Caroline’s comprehension. The fact that one of these individuals just happened to be a widow in mourning was beyond the scope of decency.
I felt very ashamed of myself, indeed.
And yet… At the same time, I felt emboldened with desire. It had been far too long since I’d felt the thrill of a hard male body against my own. What’s more, there was a unique sort of excitement that comes from having got away with performing a naughty act without being found out.
Needless to say, I avoided making eye contact with George for the first few minutes Caroline rejoined us in the drawing room, focusing the majority of my energy on her. After a bit, I started to relax and found myself able to include George in the conversation without becoming terr
ibly frazzled.
As for him, he seemed remarkably relaxed for someone who had only just committed a scandalous act. He leaned back comfortably against the sofa as if he were in his own home. There was, however, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and more often than not, he appeared to be holding back a smile.
After another hour or so had passed, Caroline mentioned that the two of them ought to be making their way back to the manor house so they would arrive before nightfall. I cannot express how saddened I was by the thought of them departing so soon.
“I do hope you will come to call again soon,” I said as I escorted the pair of them to the door. “I have enjoyed your visit so very much.”
“I would be delighted to,” said Caroline with a smile. “Perhaps we can arrange to return in the following week?”
“That would be lovely,” I said with a bow of the head.
“I’ll see to it that we do,” said George, flashing that cheeky smile of his at me. “Thank you for a delightful afternoon, Elsa.”
“The pleasure was mine, George.”
I nearly burst out in laughter at that, for no one could have imagined how true that statement was.
Oh, the pleasure I enjoyed as I rocked my hips and rubbed my slick nether regions against his manhood…
And without any further ado, Caroline and George departed the manor house, leaving me all on my own. I was saddened to see them go, but I looked forward to seeing them again.
How fortunate I felt to have welcomed the two of them into my home! Not only did their company serve as a remedy for my crushing loneliness, but for the first time in so many months, I felt a spark igniting inside of me.
Feeling terribly sensual and lovely, I made my way directly upstairs to my bedchambers, whereupon I promptly shed each and every layer of clothing that I had on. I then got into bed to caress my bosoms and fondle my slippery folds as I thought of George’s cheeky smile, his penetrating gaze, his muscular thighs and of course the glorious rock hard wonder that nestled between his thighs.
