Throughout the late afternoon and evening, Althea found herself beginning to enjoy her time with Sir Herbert. He had told her much of his late wife, who to her, seemed the picture of perfection, at least as he talked of her. Althea was unsure how she could ever compare, not having begun to feel like a woman herself yet. Inside she felt she still had much to learn, not only about all that encompassed being the lady of the house, but also about herself. She felt as though she were still seeking purpose... would she find that here, in this manor? Or would she find herself woefully idle? Sir Herbert had spoken of the various tasks his late wife had taken on as lady of the manor, which included arranging the divine gardens each season, planning balls and formal occasions, re-furnishing the manor annually, and as he hoped for Althea, raising children when the time came, since he and his first wife were unable to conceive before she fell ill.
Although nothing about this life sounded boring, in fact it sounded quite the opposite, she still couldn't help but feel as though there was something more, something deeper, she needed to accomplish. It left her with an ache heavy in her chest. She tried her best to ignore it, as she knew this is what she must do. Her aunt would not be patient with her forever, and if she ever expected to marry, her ‘expiration date’ was rapidly approaching. As her aunt had taken no mind in reminding her, she was extremely fortunate to have found such a handsomely wealthy and generous man at her age.
They sat now across from each other at the large dining table as servants poured into the room with large platters of food. In the centre of the table sat a large turkey waiting to be carved. It was surrounded by layers upon layers of side dishes, including bread, beans, potatoes, carrots, squash and so many more delicacies. It would appear Sir Herbert spared no expense when attempting to show the extent which he could provide for a potential bride.
The arm of a young male servant suddenly caught in one of Althea's braided plaits as he reached to set a glass of red wine down in front of her. This sent the entire contents of the glass spilling into the lap of the silver silk gown her aunt had insisted she wore. She gasped looking for something to begin soaking up the liquid but she knew it would likely take a professional to get these stains out of silk.
"M'lady! My sincerest apologies," the young man croaked, looking as though she'd punched him in the gut.
"It's okay–" she had started to speak, but Sir Herbert interrupted her.
"It most certainly is not okay! Such clumsiness is unacceptable in the presence of my potential wife, now take your leave boy, before I have you flogged for yer disobedience!"
Althea was too stunned to speak, or even to think for that matter. Even her aunt looked slightly startled by this sudden outburst from Lord Herbert.
"Evelyn!" he called and a frail woman, older than that of her aunt, sped through the doors to Sir Herbert's side.
"Yes Sir?"
"Take Althea to the powder room please and get her cleaned up and put into one of the gowns from the guest wardrobe.”
With a curt nod, the woman approached Althea and helped her out of her seat.
Once they were out of the dining area she let out a sigh she'd not realised she'd been holding. She could hardly believe the way he had treated that poor boy, after all it had only been an accident. He'd not meant to spill the wine on her dress. To have such a reaction to such a small, insignificant matter made her scared to see what he would do when it came to something of real detriment.
She followed the woman through a wide corridor until they reached the door to the powder room. Evelyn had long black hair, speckled with greys and whites throughout it. She wore a servants uniform and kept that hair pulled back tightly out of her face. Where her aunt had aged gracefully, this woman wore the lines and heavy drooping eyes of someone who had been put to work her entire life.
"Please sit madam while I undo these ties," Evelyn instructed. Her voice was hoarse and quiet. Althea did as told and sat on the small stool as Evelyn began unlacing her gown.
"Does he get like that often? So hostile I mean?"
Althea couldn't help asking the question, she wanted to know as much about this man as possible before she let herself be practically sold to him.
"Lord Herbert can be... a strict man at times but having worked under his roof for over 40 years, I can attest to his good character. I assure you madam, what you witnessed in that room was just the restlessness of a man who wants everything to be perfect for you. You see when Mr. McNeil spilled that wine on yer gown, he felt that perfection slipping from his grasp."
Hearing this allowed Althea's mind to settle a bit. However, the flogging he had threatened the boy with still made her mind wander.
"Has he ever had you flogged?" It was a blunt question, Althea knew it, but she wanted to know and didn't have time for the prevarication. And she needed to keep talking so as not to focus too much on the woman's touch on her body.
Evelyn paused her loosening of Althea's laces, continuing a moment later after she'd presumably gathered her thoughts.
"Yes madam, a great many times." Her words were slow with uncertainty, as if she wasn't sure she should answer the question at hand. "But not for many years now. You see I was a bit of a minx back in my day. So much so that Sir Herbert expelled me from the manor twice. But I am grateful he took me back, for I have spent many gracious years well fed and cared for here at the manor."
Evelyn slid the silver gown down Althea's arms and removed it, revealing her white stained petticoat beneath.
"Good heavens we will have to get you fresh skirts as well, it appears Mr. McNeil's clumsiness hasna been kind to you."
"It would appear not." Althea's mind was elsewhere. She felt a strange apprehension in the pit of her stomach that she could not ward off. But she stayed quiet for the remainder of the time it took for Evelyn to dress her. Her new gown was a royal blue with silver embellishments around the bodice.
Once it was laced, Evelyn led her back to the dining room. Althea had refrained from asking her any more questions, although she wanted to know more.
When they entered the room Lady Harriet was laughing happily, it appeared Sir Herbert's outburst hadn't worried her very much.
"My dear niece, Sir Herbert has insisted that we shall stay here for the night so you two may have lunch tomorrow."
Evelyn helped Althea into her seat. She didn't know what to say to this. If she objected her aunt would only insist upon it, as would he, so she just nodded.
"Perfect! I am just greatly enjoying your company and would love to see you again tomorrow, but it is such a long carriage ride. I will have two of the guest chambers prepared for you both."
"Delightful!" her aunt beamed grinning over at Althea who forced a smile.
Shortly after dinner Althea and her aunt took their leave to prepare themselves for bed. Now Althea sat in front of a large vanity, brushing through her long, curly brown locks. Her face was flushed from the heat the warm day had brought through London. Setting down the silver brush, she walked over to the window, opening the latch and allowing the cool night air to embrace her. She could feel the slight dampness on her neck begin to cool as the breeze caressed her skin. Althea inhaled deeply, the floral scent of the garden below filled her nose. It was a beautiful garden. From the window she had a full view of the grounds all the way down the long pathway leading to the manor.
"Must you have mentioned the flogging in front of them?" Althea leaned closer to the window looking out. Under her window she could see the dim candle light emitting from the room below her and setting the terrace aglow. The doors of which were left open.
"I had to make it convincing didn't I?" A familiar voice asked. Sir Herbert. His room must have been under hers. She swallowed cupping her ear to better make out their words.
"You know I'd never have you flogged William, I couldn't have that marvellous back of yours getting torn or scarred." Althea furrowed her eyebrows unsure of what exactly she was hearing.
"Is my back the only thing about me you find interesting Robert?" The other voice, the young Mr. McNeils voice asked.
Sir Herbert chuckled. "Of course not you cunning fox." He paused briefly. "You well know which part of you I adore the most."
"I want to hear you say it," Mr. McNeil said, his voice sounding hurried, almost desperate. Althea knew suddenly that this was a conversation she shouldn't be hearing. She'd never heard two men talk so... queer to one another.
"Why that long cock of yours William."
Althea gasped, feeling overwhelmed by dizziness. Was this real? Were they really saying what she thought they were?
She walked from the window back to the vanity, grabbing the candlestick in one hand. She must know for sure that she was right about what she had heard from the two men in the room below her. What would she do with such information? She could get her aunt, make her witness such a thing, certainly her aunt wouldn't want her married to a... well a bugger.
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She'd rarely heard of such a thing, a man who made love to another man, having never seen the full male anatomy on anything other than a statue she found it hard to imagine how that would work.
She made no noise as she walked quickly down the stairs and through the corridor mirroring the one upstairs. She could see the dim candle light flowing under the crack of the door. What could she do? She didn't even know where her aunt slept.
She crept slowly up to the door, listening for any clue that what she'd just heard had been a mere illusion brought on by heat and exhaustion. However what she heard instead made her stomach twist. She heard heavy male moans of pleasure emanating from beyond the closed chamber door.
Swallowing hard, she attempted to push off of the door to walk swiftly away. But instead the door swung open with her weight, causing her to fall inside the bed chamber.
She looked up to see Mr. McNeil, the servant boy from earlier, taking Sir Herbert from behind as he lay bare against the wall.
Soon the shock from her own face spread to the faces of the two men before her as they heard the thud of her body hitting the floor.
Both men gasped. Mr. McNeil removed his full length from the rear of Sir Herbert in a swift motion before lunging for his trousers on the floor. Both men were damp with sweat. Sir Herbert looked around rapidly for his own clothes.
"My lord, I... I..." Althea looked for the words as she picked herself up off of the floor, averting her eyes from either of the men’s bare bodies.
Sir Herbert grabbed a robe from his wardrobe and covered himself as quickly as he could. He wore an expression Althea was unable to read.
"I'm so—"
"Why, I ought to have yer head you sodding brat," Sir Herbert growled, cutting Althea off.
She took a step back and as she did Mr. McNeil lunged for her, grabbing her by her hair. She screamed out in pain and he slammed the chamber door closed as he pulled her into the room.
"What are we to do with her? She knows we lain together now and if word gets out we both shall be ruined," Mr. McNeil said, still holding her by her hair. Her scalp cried out in pain as he yanked at it.
"No soul will believe such a devilish tale from a pansy whore such as thee," Sir Herbert said, watching her as he grew nearer, until his breath tickled her face. "Your aunt has already told me what mischief you've been up to, mistress. Taking men to your bed with you without even the promise of marriage? Tell me Miss Lezant, is that what brought you to my bedchamber tonight?" he grabbed her face in his hand and squeezed her cheeks, "were you hoping to get your fill of me tonight before we are to be wed?"
Althea shook her head quickly, tears beginning to form in her eyes.
"What my Aunt told you of me is false, I am a virgin Sir. I swear I only came down because I heard a noise and was wondering where it came from." It was a lie, but in truth she had been ready to run back up to her room and pretend she’d never heard such vulgarities spewing from this room. She was wishing she’d never even set foot outside of her chamber… wishing she had pleaded with her aunt to go back home.
"Oh you're a virgin then are ya? Well I'll be the judge of that then." In a swift sudden movement Sir Herbert ripped the thin white tunic from her chest leaving her bare and exposed to him. She tried to cover herself but Mr. McNeil still held her tightly in his grasp.
"Please Sir I beg of thee, I won’t whisper a word of what I witnessed, just please let me go. We can go on as if nothing is out of the ordinary," Althea begged praying for a way out of this terrible situation.
"Don't worry dear girl, I'll still have you for a wife, if I find you've already been soiled or if I break you in myself."
Althea let out a sob, continuing to beg him as he tore her tunic completely off. She had worn her white cotton trousers as she had since the incident at her fathers estate. But she knew in her heart nothing would stop this man. If he wanted her, he would have her, as all men did. She felt sick. If only she were stronger, she would tear his head from his body. Why, she would do more than that. She would rip into his skin and rip his heart straight from his chest just as the goddess of Lortrite had in one of her favourite stories. She could feel her red face burning even hotter as the rage inside of her built up.
Suddenly Mr. McNeil gasped, letting go of her.
"The bloody witch burned me with her flesh!" he swore.
"Why you daft fool," Sir Herbert mumbled, grabbing Althea's hips attempting to pull her trousers down to reveal all of her. However, he too shouted, sharing the same bewildered look as the boy had.
"Your skin, it feels as though you're hiding flames beneath it."
She had no idea what they were talking about but she continued to feel the furious rage within her. She began trembling, it was so strong. Even in her most fitful time she had never experienced such an overwhelming sense of anger within herself. It felt as though she would combust. Her head was humming and everything around her became muted. All she could focus on was the buzzing in her mind. She folded her hands closed around her head, noticing the beads of sweat that formed in her hair.
She could only barely make out the words of Sir Herbert who stood bewildered in front of her, "Trifling witch! You'll be burned at the stake for this!"
He paused and Althea looked up to see him pulling the blankets from his bed. He ran towards her in a quick attempt to smother her with them.
Althea sprung up moving swiftly to the other side of the room. As she did so it appeared as if the two men remained idle. Mr. McNeil who had been attempting to pick himself up off of the floor now sat half crouched as though he were frozen. Sir Herbert stayed holding the blanket up, ready to throw it on the floor where Althea had been sitting, he too made no movement. What in god's name was happening to them? The fear inside of her eased slightly as she assessed the two men from the other side of the room now. As she began to come down from her fearful adrenaline high, both men reengaged in their movements as if they had never taken pause.
"What in the devil," Sir Herbert cursed as he tackled nothing but air to the hard floor. Mr. McNeil stood fully and gasped as he saw her in the corner. He backed away from her as though he were seeing the frightful ghost of a long deceased friend. As he did, he tripped over the printed rug, falling backwards onto the bed.
"My god! She is a treacherous witch!" he screamed.
Sir Herbert looked up at her from his place on the floor, his face white as snow.
"I am not a witch! It is the two of you who stopped moving so suddenly! If anyone is practising black craft, it shall be you lot," she recoiled, unsure of what to say to these accusations. It appeared to her that both men were turning mad.
Suddenly Mr. McNeil sprinted towards the open terrace doors. Before either she or Sir Herbert could react, he threw himself from the ledge.
They both gasped, Sir Herbert ran towards the railing and looked down. When he peered back towards her all she could see was sorrow and rage staring back at her through dark, vengeful eyes.
"Why you sickening hag! Look at what you've done! You shall rot in the depths of hell for murdering an innocent man!" he shouted.
The silent tears that had been burning in her eyes now drenched her cheeks.
"I did not murder him! He jumped at his own will!"
"He did not, it was you! You and your sick twisted spells! A murderess, that's what you are!"
That same buzzing from earlier started to fill her head.
"I have no spells! I am not a witch or a murderess, you blasted fool!" she recoiled. The buzzing grew louder within her. It felt as though gravity weighed on her now more than it ever had before.
"I will avenge my lover, make no mistake about that. You will pay for what you've just done."
She wanted to scream out and continue defending herself but it was no use, her head felt as if it would explode again.
Suddenly Sir Herbert lunged towards her. This time she did not run from him, but towards him. Again, it appeared he was frozen mid sprint. His body was paralyzed with one foot hovering above the ground and his arms outstretched towards her. She reached out and touched his shoulder. It was as if he were made of air. He didn't weigh that of a man, but a feather. She didn't know how long this would last, so she hoisted him up high into the air, his body parallel with the floor. She hoped when he unfroze, he would fall onto his back with a hard thud. She however, wouldn't waste any time waiting to find out if he did. She sprinted towards the door and exited the room. As she bolted down the corridor her head began to spin and she was so consumed with dizziness, she thought she may vomit on the floor before her… She thought she may faint from the sudden exhaustion too, but once she made it to the stairs it was as if the weight was lifted from her. She heard a loud thud from down the hall followed by a curse from Lord Herbert.
She ran down the stairs and didn't stop until she reached the large foyer. On a stand next to the large double doors, were her and her aunt's cloaks which they had worn here earlier. Her chest was still exposed for all to see so she grabbed the cloak and draped it around her bare olive skin.
She ran out the doors, the night kissed air swirling past her as she ran shoeless through the garden. The grass felt good on her feet but the occasional rock under her heel made her grimace. Nevertheless, she made no movement to slow down. She had no idea where she was going, only that she needed to be as far from that manor as possible. She was winded by the time she reached the gravel pathway their carriage rode in on.
She crept over the road, trying not to step too hard on the gravel stones as she made her way across. The other side of the road was completely wooded. There were sticks and shrubbery which made her trek much more difficult.
Her feet were clipped by jagged thorns, and her cloak got tangled in the thick brush. Every part of her body hurt and she was exhausted, but she didn't stop. She kept running and running, changing direction slightly from time to time so she wasn't running in a perfectly straight line.
Her feet stung and she was sure they bled beneath her, as did her legs.
She ran until her feet and legs were bloody, until her knee’s felt as if they would give out beneath her… she ran until pain leeched deep within her stomach and the dim light of dawn advanced through the thick canopy of trees. She had to be miles from the manor now.
Althea longed for even a sip of water, but she'd come across not a single river or creek on her journey through the woods… or if she had, she hadn’t paused for even a moment to drink.
Her head was pounding and her legs wobbled beneath her. They'd been threatening to give out for some time now, but she hadn't stopped. Not until now that is, when her knees finally buckled and she plummeted to the ground, face meeting with damp leaves and soil. The scent of nature's decay and earth filled her nose as she lay there for passing moments, just breathing deeply. In and out, in and out over and over again. She wasn’t sure how long had passed when she finally mustered up the energy to flip herself onto her back and stare up at the swaying trees far above her, that dim orange sunlight peeking through ever so slightly.
Althea blinked once, twice. When she opened her eyes again she knew moments had passed. She closed them a final time and let her exhaustion consume her at last, drinking in the feeling of the breeze flowing around her, as her mind began to fade away into nothing but silence and tranquillity.