Nicola Cornick - The Undoing Of A Lady

“I love you,” he murmured as he slid inside her with infinite gentleness, “I will always love you, Lizzie. Lizzie,” he repeated, “my love, my life.”

“I love you, too,” Lizzie said. She remembered all the times she had held back from telling him. Her pride had come between them. Her fear of the inequality in their feelings had kept them apart but now there was no more reason to hide and no more secrets to keep. She moved restlessly beneath his hands and her body quickened with the pleasure he could always give her but now it was love returned as well as pleasure given, deep and searing in its intensity.

“You’re impatient still,” Nat murmured, laughing, as he rocked within her, tantalizing and slow, and Lizzie gasped and pulled him to her for a kiss that stole her soul. “Some things will never change.”

“You are no better,” Lizzie whispered, her skin slick against his in the heat of the night, the tide running strong between them again now, “though you pretend-the conventional Earl of Waterhouse, so proper, so passionless. I should have realized from the first when I knew what a terribly cross disposition you had. I should have known such temper could only be matched with such passion-” She broke off on another gasp as Nat moved again, his mouth at her breast now, shocking and sweet. The desire twisted within her, driving her higher. This time it was a matter of slow, shimmering, exquisite delight and afterward Nat wrapped her in his arms and held her and she knew she had come home at last. The nightmares were gone. The tragedy of her mother’s lost love had at last been balanced by her love found.

“No more running away,” Nat said. “I never want to lose you again.”

“Why should I run?” Lizzie said. “My heart is here. It is yours. Now and forever.”

September

IT WAS A FINE, sunny day in early autumn when the Prince of Wales came to Fortune’s Folly to declare formally that the villagers were free from the curse of the Dames’ Tax and the other medieval laws. The streets were bright with bunting. There was a fair on Fortune Row and a platform erected in the market square so that His Highness could address the crowd. He had seemed extremely pleased to make Lizzie’s acquaintance again, commenting on how she had grown from the little hoyden he remembered from Scarlet Park into a remarkably beautiful young woman. As he had said it his eyes had lingered suggestively on her face and the bodice of her gown until Nat had decided that enough was enough and suggested with cold politeness that His Highness might like to address the crowd now. Thus recalled to his duty, the prince had made a stirring speech, talking graciously about the people of Fortune’s Folly and their courage in standing up to the oppressor-an oppressor who now looked very much the worse for wear as he sat in the stocks with a cabbage leaf on his head and a broken egg oozing down his face-and how the ancient liberties and rights of their great country had come to their aid in a time of need. He quoted the ancient Charter of the Forest and how it defended the rights of the common man against their lords, and declared all the Fortune’s Folly medieval laws null and void. People were cheering as they raised their tankards in a toast.

“To Magna Carta!” Someone shouted. “To the Charter of the Forest!”

“To old King John! Aye, and to the Prince of Wales!”

“And to Lady Waterhouse,” Josie shouted, drinking to Lizzie, “for putting an end to our oppression!”

“So Fortune’s Folly is free of tyranny at last,” Lizzie said, trying not to laugh as she watched the village children take another enthusiastic shot at Tom in the stocks. “Oh dear, poor Tom. Should I put an end to his punishment now, do you think?”

“Not yet,” Nat said. “People have a great deal of anger to vent on him first.”

“Perhaps he will reform,” Lizzie said hopefully. “Perhaps some good may come of this.”

Nat laughed. “You are very generous, my love, and I know that against all the odds you do care for your brother and wish him to be happy, but…” He shook his head, “I think that on this occasion you may be asking too much if you expect Tom to reform.”

“There are others I wish happy, too,” Lizzie said sighing. “Sir James and Lady Wheeler…”

“Yes,” Nat said. “It was brave of them to come today.”

Lizzie thought that in the harsh, unforgiving glare of the sunlight Lady Wheeler looked so old and worn, as though all the life, all the hope and the joy had gone out of her. They had never found Mary’s body and now George too had left them, gone to London to bury the memory of his sister’s disgrace in a round of drinking and dissipation, if the gossip was to be believed.

“And then there is Lydia,” Lizzie said, turning to look at her friend. Lydia was standing with Dexter and Laura, Hattie and baby Edward. She was dressed in lilac with a saucy matching bonnet and she was holding Beth in her arms. The sun was shining on her face and she looked so young and so happy as she smilingly answered a question Laura was putting to her.

“Lydia cannot lock herself away forever,” Lizzie said with sudden passion, “and deny herself the chance of love.”

“Well,” Nat said, brushing his lips against her hair, “if what you told me is true, then John Jerrold will do his utmost to persuade her of that.”

“She allowed him to speak with her and to kiss her hand earlier,” Lizzie said, with a little giggle. “I suppose it is a start. He will have to be very patient with her and by nature I am not certain he is a patient man.”

“If he wants her enough, he will be,” Nat said.

“And now Alice and Miles are setting up their nursery,” Lizzie said, “so that just leaves you and me…” She turned in his arms and raised one hand to his cheek. His eyes were full of love; love that was warm and bright and that Lizzie knew would grow stronger and stronger between them forever.

“What are we to do, Nat?” she whispered, raising her lips to his.

“You can kiss me for a start,” Nat said, “and we shall go on from there.”

Lizzie smiled at him. “And there will be no more secrets.”

“Never again,” Nat said. “The last of the secrets are told.”