The Lovers (Echoes From The Past)

by Irina Shapiro

  “Lie down,” James instructed as he took the vial from the bedside table and poured something into his hand. The smell of rose oil filled Elise’s nostrils and nearly made her gag.

  “It will make it easier,” James explained as he slid his hand beneath her nightdress. Elise gasped as his fingers made contact with her flesh. No one had touched her down there since she was a little girl and required help bathing. The sensation was strange and alarming. James touched her lightly as he applied the oil, not only to the outside but also to the very core of her.

  “Try to relax,” he said not unkindly. “I have no wish to hurt you.”

  Elise squeezed her eyes shut as James pushed her legs apart with his knee. She felt his hand move against her pelvis as he took hold of himself and guided his shaft inside her, stretching and pushing until she cried out, shocked by unexpected pain as her maidenhead gave way. James began to move, slowly and deliberately. The pain had passed, replaced by a feeling of intrusion and violation. Her defiler refused to meet her gaze as she looked up at him, her eyes full of accusation. What kind of man was he to perpetuate such sin at his father’s bidding?

  “Close your eyes,” James ordered her, clearly annoyed by her staring.

  She did. If she didn’t see his face, she could pretend that it was Gavin, consummating their marriage. Would it feel different than this? she wondered. Would she welcome Gavin into her body, or would it still feel this wrong?

  Elise’s eyes flew open as she let out a low moan. She hadn’t expected to, but the sensation had gone from being intrusive to something quite different. It was almost pleasurable. Her moan seemed to undo James, who let out a gasp of his own before collapsing on top of her, having completed his task.

  Edward chuckled mirthlessly from his place against the wall. “Liked it, did you, lady wife?” he asked nastily. “Too bad I can’t bed you myself. You’re a tasty little morsel, I’ll grant you that. I would have enjoyed you had I been able to do my duty by you. Did you enjoy her, son?” His tone was one of derision. He was clearly bitter and angry at his predicament and would have liked to punish them both.

  “Get out,” he hissed to James. The young man got out of bed, grabbed his clothes, and disappeared into the adjoining room.

  “You will lie with James until you get with child,” Edward informed Elise, now standing over the bed. “And then, you will do it again, even if the child is a boy. Is that understood?” he asked, his tone menacing now.

  “Yes.”

  “You are to have no dealings with James outside this bed. If I so much as see you talking to each other, I will have you both whipped. You are my wife, and I am your husband. James is nothing but my cock. Remember that.”

  Elise nodded her understanding. She felt sick to her stomach and wished only to be left in peace.

  “Oh, how I wish your mother was alive to see this,” Edward suddenly added with a twisted smile. “She rejected me, you know. Once, a long time ago. She chose your feckless father over me. She proved a good breeder. Three sons in as many years, and only one of them dead,” he added, his tone musing. “They could have been my sons. Well, I might not have had her, but I now hold the power of life and death over her daughter. Ironic, is it not? I suppose life has a way of righting certain wrongs,” he added with a laugh.

  With that, he turned on his heel and strode from the room, leaving Elise to gaze after him with a mutinous expression. She adjusted her nightdress, blew out the candle, and pulled up the blanket, but she was unable to sleep. She was seething with humiliation and resentment. Lord Asher had deceived her father about his intentions and acted out of spite because of something her mother had done decades before. Elise was now his to command and pimp. Hot tears rolled down her face as she sobbed into the pillow. What was she to do now? How was she to go on? Edward Asher had no intention of being a real husband to her. She was a broodmare, her presence in his house having only one purpose.

  Chapter 10

  Elise awoke to find Lucy pushing aside the bed hangings. Cold winter light poured through the diamond-paned windows, its brightness suggesting that she’d slept rather late. A fire already crackled in the grate, making the room pleasantly warm. Lucy poured hot water into the basin and placed a towel next to it in readiness. This was certainly a lot more pleasant than waking up at home and braving the frigid floorboards and a crust of ice in the pitcher.

  “What time is it?” Elise asked as she got out of bed and pushed her arms through the sleeves of a heavy brocade dressing gown held out by Lucy.

  “Why, it’s past ten, me lady. His lordship said not to disturb you, but her ladyship is demanding to see you in her parlor. She’s been up for hours. Early riser, she is,” Lucy added bitterly. She likely had to get up very early to wait on the old lady.

  “Why does she want to see me?” Elise asked, suddenly fretful. Memories of last night forced their way to the surface, their sharp edges no longer blunted by slumber, and made Elise cringe with shame. She imagined feeling many things on her first morning as a wife, but shame and disbelief hadn’t been on the list. She hadn’t expected to feel happiness, but she had hoped for contentment and relief at having survived that first test of matrimonial togetherness. But the test wasn’t over—it had just begun.

  Lucy shrugged. “She’s got reasons of her own, to be sure. Always does. I’ve laid out this nice woolen gown, on account of it being so cold,” Lucy added, her tone questioning. She didn’t know the ways of the new mistress and was feeling her way around, looking for approval of her initiative. Elise smiled. No one had fussed over her like this before. The de Lesseps women all shared Rose, who was the only upstairs maid, and had to wait their turn in the mornings. Rose always saw to Caroline first, then went to help the younger girls. Elise fended for herself, preferring not to wait an hour to get dressed and come downstairs. She was usually the first one up anyway, and she’d go look in on her sisters and offer any assistance in getting them dressed and ready for the day. Her heart squeezed at the thought of Amy and Anne. This was the first time they’d spent a night apart, the first night of a lifetime. Elise forced her attention back to Lucy, refusing to give in to melancholy.

  “Yes, the gown will do very well for today. Thank you, Lucy.”

  “Dolly will bring up yer breakfast presently. Can’t see the old dragon on an empty stomach.” Lucy giggled, her expression conspiratorial.

  “Is she that fierce?”

  “That and more,” Lucy confirmed as she did up the laces of the bodice. “I heard his lordship say that she was quite a terror in her day.”

  “That’s encouraging to hear,” Elise mumbled. She wanted to learn as much as possible before facing her mother-in-law, but Lucy’s insolence didn’t sit well with her. The girl was too free with her tongue and treated her new mistress as if she were her friend. Elise knew that she should nip the unseemly familiarity in the bud, but Lucy’s prattling could arm Elise with useful information, information she wouldn’t otherwise be privy to, so perhaps it was wiser to wait and see.

  “Rules the roost, she does,” Lucy continued. “I hear it were her as wished his lordship to marry again. Said he needed an heir.”

  “Who would inherit if he didn’t beget one?” Elise asked, her curiosity piqued.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t rightly know, me lady.”

  Elise suddenly wondered if it was common knowledge within the household that James was her husband’s natural son. She couldn’t very well ask Lucy, nor could she say anything to the girl that she didn’t wish making the rounds of the servants’ quarters within the hour. Lucy could be a useful ally, but she could also be Elise’s undoing if she weren’t careful. She had to tread carefully.

  “Ye’d best get on, my lady. Her ladyship don’t like to be kept waiting,” Lucy informed Elise.

  Elise hastily finished her breakfast and headed downstairs to her mother-in-law’s private parlor on the ground floor. She’d finally met Lady Asher yesterday upon arriving from the church, the old lady being
too frail and susceptible to cold to attend the wedding service held in the church porch. Lady Asher had offered her congratulations after looking Elise up and down, as if she were a prize heifer. Is she privy to what her son has planned? Elise wondered as she knocked on the door and was bid to enter.

  The old woman sat in front of a roaring fire, her back ramrod straight despite the cushion placed behind it to make her more comfortable. She was tall and thin, her nearly white hair piled so high above her forehead as to make her appear even taller. Her gown was well made but outdated in style. It was dark gray, not a color flattering to most women, and completely unadorned with any lace or jewelry. In an era of excess and overindulgence, it seemed even more out of place, especially against the rich backdrop of the parlor, which was done up in scarlet and gold, clearly her son’s choice. Elise subconsciously fingered the brooch pinned to her bodice. It had belonged to her mother, and she wore it every day since her mother passed, almost like a talisman.

  A young woman sat in the corner, crewelwork forgotten on her lap as she gazed out the window, a slight smile playing about her lips. She was fair-haired and had the look of Edward Asher about her. She might have been his sister, had the age gap between them not been too great for that to be possible.

  “Sit down,” Dowager Lady Asher instructed and pointed to the chair opposite her.

  “Thank you, Lady Asher,” Elise replied. Elise did as she was bid but inwardly bristled at the tone. It was a tone normally used to bring a dog to heel, not to address one’s daughter-in-law, but the Dowager Lady Asher clearly wasn’t interested in Elise’s feelings or comfort.

  “You may call me Lady Matilda. You are Lady Asher now. Has the marriage been consummated?” Lady Asher asked without any preamble. Elise blushed furiously and nodded.

  “Good. Do you bleed regularly?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have instructed Lucy to keep track of your menses. That way, we’ll know right away if you are with child.”

  “We?” Elise asked, heat rising in her cheeks. She hadn’t realized this was to be a group endeavor.

  “My son and I. Edward must have an heir. That one over there is no use to him.”

  The old woman jutted her chin out toward the girl, who seemed not to hear or notice anything other than the branches moving in the wind outside the window. Elise stole a peek at the girl, confused. She was told that Edward Asher had no children by his first marriage, but her mother-in-law was clearly implying that the girl was her husband’s daughter.

  “Oh, yes. She’s Edward’s daughter. Two stillborn sons and then a dimwit. Should have been her that died. I’d have had her locked up, you know, but Edward insisted that we treat her with kindness,” the dowager said with disgust. Elise gasped, but the girl seemed to pay her grandmother no heed. She either didn’t hear or didn’t understand. Or perhaps she was used to such abuse and chose to ignore it.

  “I must admit that I never expected the bastard to be of any use. I told Edward to wash his hands of the both of them, but he wouldn’t listen to me. Inherited his father’s misguided sense of honor. His father was a foolish man,” she added bitterly. “Felt he had to care for his bastards and instructed Edward to do the same. It’s unheard of, but Edward felt some sense of duty. I’m glad to see that the money didn’t go to waste. His sister, of course, is a different matter altogether. I was glad to see the back of her, I’ll gladly tell you that. Still, I suppose we ought to be thankful. The Good Lord always has a plan.”

  Elise doubted the Good Lord had hatched this particular scheme, but she bit her tongue and remained silent. Rallying against her situation or the people who created it would do little good, especially until she’d had a chance to study the lay of the land. Her head sprang up as the dowager addressed her again.

  “Are you listening to me, you silly goose, or are you as dimwitted as Barbara?”

  “Yes, your ladyship, I’m listening.”

  “Here, take these.” The old woman handed Elise a brass ring hung with numerous keys. “You will take over the running of the household, as is right and proper. It’ll keep you busy and away from useless pursuits. You will, however, consult me on any changes you wish to make. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, madam.”

  “Good. Now go.”

  Thus dismissed, Elise left the room. She had no idea what the keys were for, but she would find out everything she needed to know from the servants. They usually knew more about the running of the household than the mistress herself. At least she’d have something to do with her days. Elise wondered if there might be a library. Her father hadn’t approved of reading for pleasure, preferring to read scripture every night, but Elise had a fondness for poetry and plays. Perhaps her husband wouldn’t notice if she borrowed a volume or two. She’d decided not to ask his permission. Her mother always said that it was easier to apologize for something after the fact rather than openly defy a husband’s decree, and Elise was beginning to see the wisdom of that advice.

  Elise walked along the ground floor corridor, opening one door after another until she found what she’d been looking for. The library wasn’t a large one—downright meager, one might say—but there were some well-thumbed books and several plays displayed on the polished shelves. She was just reaching for a calf-bound folio when James stepped out from behind a shelf, a scowl on his face.

  Elise opened her mouth to say something, but the wave of heat that washed over her left her speechless and stained her cheeks beet red. Her gaze slid away from his face in embarrassment, recalling only too well the liberties James had taken with her person last night. She felt a stab of resentment, glad that James seemed equally uncomfortable. He gave her a quick bow, muttered something that sounded like good morrow, and left the library. Elise sank into a leather chair and leaned her head back. She felt humiliated and used, but most of all, she felt lonely and scared. There was no one she could turn to for comfort, no one who could be told of her predicament. Lonely tears slid down her cheeks as she recalled Gavin’s offer. If only she could turn back the clock, she’d go away with him without a moment’s hesitation. She believed she was doing her duty to her family, but her family had failed her. She’d been sold into what could only be described as sexual slavery. She had no voice, no options, and she wasn’t likely to get any sympathy from her new kin. She had to find a way to make peace with her situation and pluck some measure of contentment from this farce of a marriage.

  Chapter 11

  October 2013

  London, England

  “Dr. Allenby.” The voice came from far away, like a whisper on the wind, as someone gently shook Quinn by the shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  Quinn reluctantly returned to the present, blinking in surprise as the brilliant hues of autumn foliage replaced the stark bleakness of the winter morning. A man was squatting in front of her, his eyes searching her face for signs of illness. Madness, more like, Quinn thought as she allowed her gaze to finally focus on him. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him, especially at this moment, when she was still straddling two different worlds and felt disoriented and confused.

  “Dr. Allenby?” the man prompted.

  “Yes, thank you. I’m quite all right. Just daydreaming,” Quinn replied, suddenly self-conscious. How long had he been trying to get her attention? She never allowed herself to experience a flashback in public, only handling objects that belonged to the deceased in a controlled environment and on her own, but her spot under the tree felt deceptively private, and she’d felt an overwhelming urge to get a glimpse of the girl found in the chest. Something about her slight form tugged at Quinn’s heart, and she felt a desperate need to at least put a name to the anonymous remains. Quinn hastily stuffed the brooch back into the plastic bag and shoved it into her bag before turning her attention to the stranger, who was still hovering over her.

  “Have we met?” she asked, rather more haughtily than she intended. She’d just realized that he called her
by her name, but she couldn’t recall being introduced to him.

  “Not officially, no, but I’ve read several of your articles and have seen you on television,” he replied. His smile seemed friendly, but his gaze was still watchful, as if he wasn’t convinced that she was telling the truth and would suddenly have some sort of a fit. “Rhys Morgan,” he finally offered as he held out his hand. “From the BBC. I’ve actually just had a meeting with Gabriel Russell. I spotted you as I was walking past and thought I’d say hello. Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked again.

  “Yes, Mr. Morgan. I’m all right, as I’ve just explained,” Quinn retorted angrily. She instantly regretted her cutting tone when she saw his expression go from genuine concern to surprise at being spoken to so rudely. She hadn’t meant to sound hostile, but she felt foolish in the extreme and just wanted to put her momentary lapse in judgment behind her.

  “I’m sorry if I disturbed you, Dr. Allenby. I’ll call your office and make an appointment for a meeting in a more formal setting.” The man got to his feet and began to walk away.

  “Mr. Morgan. Wait,” Quinn called out as she scrambled to her feet. “I didn’t mean to be rude. You just caught me by surprise, that’s all. Shall we start again?” she asked, giving him her most disarming smile.

  Rhys Morgan turned back and studied her for a moment, his expression thoughtful. It took him a moment too long to respond but having made up his mind, he walked back to her and held out his hand. “Rhys Morgan,” he said again as a small smile played about his lips.