story-Earl Swan (3)

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part 3 of 6
-3-
Bri woke with her arms around someone’s waist.
She peeled her face from a pillow and found herself in Orion’s arms. They were completely nude. She gaped as the night came back to her clearly, all the kissing and the passion.
She had done illicit things with the earl and they had retired to his private bedroom. All the while, Desdemona was probably upstairs pretending to be a musical genius.
Orion looked peaceful asleep and Bri blushed as she recalled their love-making.
She felt the sudden urge to run from the mansion and hide. She had doomed them both now. When Desdemona found out…no, Des would never find out!
“Orion…” she whispered, sweeping hair from his forehead.
His eyes fluttered open and he yawned. He seemed to be in a daze and then he frowned, “Oh no…we probably should not have done that, love.”
“She never needs to know!” Bri collected his face in her hands. “Never! Now you know what you need to know to be a dutiful husband and…” she hopped out of the bed. “my work here is done.”
She saw him look away bashfully from her naked frame and she crawled back into bed, all of her boldness evaporated. Then they were embracing again, clinging to one another. They kissed once, but Bri pulled away, realizing she would want more than a kiss if she kept going.
“We must tell her,” Orion sighed.
“What! Why? She’ll kill us! She already thinks she’s a witch!”
Bri eyed him, watching him collect his thoughts. He seemed more sad than frightened.
She demanded, “What are you thinking? Tell me! What are you thinking?”
The knock on the bedroom door made them both jump. A man’s voice called through, thick with an Indian accent, “Mistress wishes to see you, Lord Hookwell.”
Orion cast Bri an apologetic look, and he looked so miserable she wanted to hold him again. But he inched out of bed.
Bri covered herself with the blanket as the earl dressed himself. She was hoping to stay there and disappear, but the covers were thrown off as she met Orion’s eyes.
He touched her shoulder softly, “Please do not flee, Bri. I want to speak with you after I speak to her…”
“One of her lackeys heard us…” she mumbled, her voice sounding raw. “I know it. One of her henchmen heard us in the study…”
“It does not matter.”
“Yes, it does! I will lose my job and she will throw you in a cauldron and make a fake witch’s brew. Or sacrifice you to Pan. Or whatever the bloody hell she thinks she can do.”
He cupped her face, soothing her, “Please remain calm. She has been sleeping with every man above the equator. She cannot tell me anything about one transgression. And I will have all the blame on me.”
Before she could protest, he threw the blanket back over her and she heard the door open and close. She waited a moment before poking her head out from under the covers.
The poor man. I have doomed him…
Though she knew it was expected of her to remain downstairs, Bri groomed herself for the day. Before the large, elaborate mirror she straightened her dress. She examined herself, still in awe at what happened. It was dawning on her how unlikely a match Orion was for her, even in an affair. True, she had a lovely shape and a few charms. But she also had an overbite and was small in stature, nothing to compare to Desdemona or any real seductress.
Content with her appearance, she patted her bun into place and headed upstairs. She checked the corners and shadows for any of Des’ henchmen. She had an array of them, most of them from India, men who had ended up in England without jobs. They were loyal to their mistress and Bri often heard them talking lewdly about the “busty rat librarian.” They did not realize she knew many languages and she understood their tongue. But she was not about to tell them that.
Bri knew that her mistress’ favorite room overlooked the fields of her vast country estate, and as she approached she heard the faint rumble of arguing.
Desdemona’s hissing whisper fighting with Orion’s soft baritone. Bri was glad that neither was screaming. Desdemona was not a fighter, so it would be highly irregular for her to scream even when enraged. As for Orion, Bri had never known him to be very militant either.
“What I am telling you, is that the fault is mine, not hers…” Orion’s voice carried through the oak door. “I exploited my position of power and made her fall.”
Bri set her ear to it, listening. She could hardly decipher Des’ words, but Orion’s lie ignited indignation. Why should he take the blame? And furthermore, why should Bri play a victim?
Bri’s cauldron of emotions pushed her forward and she pulled the latch on the door. Of course, it was locked. She knocked then, still bold.
It was Orion who opened the door, with a frown.
“…oh no. Why, Bri? Why didn’t you stay downstairs?”
“My lady,” she called out to the heiress. “It was I! I seduced your husband and not the other way around! He is too much a gentlemen to have forced himself on anyone and you know that.”
She was not thinking of her employment. She was thinking instead of how Orion cried to her when he told her the truth, how he had trusted her. How he had let her teach him…
Des was sulking by the bookcase, and her eyebrow rose as she scanned Bri. In moments like this, Des seemed like a cracked actress, who had forgotten her lines, so she focused instead on her body language.
Des’ unfeeling gaze weakened Bri then, and she withdrew into herself. Her mouth dried as did her words. She hung her head.
“Des, perhaps you should not look at this as a bad thing…”
Des neck cracked as she shot Orion a glare. “What? Not a bad thing? You diddled my assistant, my closest friend.”
“And you buggered every man in the area! HaHa!” Bri exclaimed, followed by her usual laugh.
Des bit her thumb at Bri and snarled as if to say “shut-up!”
She was feeling whorish, admittingly. But it had been passion, after all. Not dirty, meaningless buggery.
“You choose my ugly librarian over me,” Des narrowed her eyes. “Very well…Unlock the door.”
Des snapped her fingers at Bri, the usual gesture she did for compliance. Bri defied it. Orion spoke up in her defense, “Des, I did not choose anything. Now we, the two people closest to you, made a mistake. If we ask for your forgiveness, is it really so much to ask? You have insulted me weekly with your escapades. And furthermore, you will not call Ms. Salud ugly!”
Des rushed over to the door herself and flung it open. She then conversed with a manservant quickly and in a tone too low for Bri to decipher. When Des returned, she wore a sly smile. “Why don’t you both have a seat?”
She gestured to the sofa in an exaggerated manner.
“I am willing to discuss this.”
Her eyebrows were low, her smile contrived and controlled. Bri felt a violent urge to slap the woman until she stopped acting.
The lovers glanced at one another and made their way toward the sofa. Orion looked agitated, and had his face in his hands.
“Really, Desdemona. Let’s not make a big show of this. What are you planning?”
“That all depends…” Des sauntered over to the window and peered out. “I want to hear your explanation.”
“Bloody hell…” Bri grumbled.
Orion had to explain his one mistake, but Des was free from scrutiny. Bri was fuming with indignation.
The bodyguard reappeared at the door with a tray, bearing two goblets. It was set before Orion and Bri on the coffee table.
In her fury, Bri went to grab a cup and Orion’s hand seized her wrist. He shook his head at her as if in warning.
“Actually,” Des spoke, turning back to them mechanically, “I’d like to speak to Ms. Salud alone. Orion, would you let Puli escort you out? He could show you the new sword collection we have downstairs.”
“I would rather stay, thank you.” Orion spoke.
Bri sensed protectiveness in his voice.
“Don’t be afraid of Puli,” Des offered. “He is very friendly.”
“He seems very nice for a henchme—I mean—a bodyguard,” Orion casts the bald Indian a glance. “But I prefer to stay.”
The manservant had a bulbous head, a dark mustache and terrifyingly large eyes. He did not have an appearance that leant itself of gentility.
Des then made a big show of thinking. She sauntered out of the room without so much as telling them farewell. Bri looked over to Orion.
“I’m glad she left. I was about to smack her with the first heavy volume I could find…”
“We must not act foolishly now, Bri. We must handle this better than we handled our urges.”
Bri met his eyes then. “I am sorry, Orion…”
For a minute he lingered, as though he would kiss her forehead. He stood and offered her his hand. “Stay near me today. Until we know her decision. I am beginning to see what you meant about the delusions…”
Throughout that day the librarian and the earl stayed in one another’s company. Sure enough, the vast mansion seemed to be crawling with Desdemona’s servants, all waiting for a chance to pick off one of the lovers while they were alone.
In tense moments, Bri and Orion fought, arguing over what the next course of action would be. But always Bri would say something tactless and Orion would laugh, ending the fight.
The heiress herself could not be found. She avoided her fiancé and assistant throughout the day, and what she was planning they could not learn. Though, sometime during sundown, Bri overheard two of her Indian servants discussing a pond. But she could not make sense of the rest, for they were whispering in their native tongue.
It came to be dark and both of them were weary, so Orion escorted Bri to her room.
“I must confess, I am afraid to sleep under this roof tonight…” she told him.
“Desdemona is delusional, Bri. But she is bark and no bite,” Orion promised.
“I would not be so sure, Muffin.”
“Then sleep with me,” he offered.
“That is what got us into this mess…” Bri reminded him. “If we share a bed…surely it will happen again.”
Orion hung his head and nodded, “I suppose you are right. But if anything should happen, come to me. Do not hesitate to scream.”
“I will scream for you, my lord. Only promise to do the same for me.”
He smiled, “I will scream most vigorously.”
They leaned in, almost kissing, but instead he kissed her forehead. They stood in this position for a time and Bri could hear his breath catch in his throat. He wanted to kiss her, she knew. But he was controlling himself. Instead his hand found her left ear and massaged it, making her laugh.
“Goodnight, Bri. Lock your doors.”
“You do the same, Muffin.”
In her private bedchamber, Bri not only locked her doors but pushed what she could in front of it. She knew the heiress had skeleton keys and she did not want any visitors in the night. With a clothing chest, a chair and a small cabinet in front of the door, Bri felt secure for herself. But she feared for the earl. He did not seem to share her opinion that Desdemona was both delusional and dangerous.
As she dozed off that night, his voice stayed with her and she tried not to dwell on it. If something should happen to him, she would never forgive herself.
Come morning, the earl was nowhere to be found.
Bri searched all of his usual haunts; the library, the study, his bedchamber. Her panic did not set in until she was on her knees in his room, desperately looking beneath the bed.
In the hallway, rushing along with her skirts up, she ran into one of the servants. The man glared at her, took in the sight of her cleavage and then asked, “Why do you run?”
“I cannot find the earl! Have you seen him?”
“The mistress wants to speak to you.”
“Answer my question!”
The man seized her wrist and she squeaked, kneeing him in the groin.
“How dare you!” she hissed. “You cannot touch me!”
“Brigid,” came a soft female voice.
She turned and met with Desdemona’s sneer.
“Why must you attack everything that is mine?”
“My lady, where is the earl? Did he leave?”
“I don’t know,” Des answered, pouting. “And I don’t care. I would like to speak to you.”
“Did you order your servant to manhandle me?”
“No, he took that liberty on his own. Perhaps he thought you would like it,” she mocked.
“Don’t toy with me, Lady Parade.”
“Come upstairs, will you? I am not angry.”
After Bri gave the servant an angry nod and turned around, she followed the heiress upstairs but watched her back. She looked in every corner for lurking servants. In India, as a teenager with no home, Bri became accustomed to defending herself against lurking human predators. Still frazzled from being grabbed without warning, she was back to her more feral fight-mode. Though little, Bri could be fierce.
In Desdemona’s favored room, overlooking the fields, the mistress and servant situated themselves. Bri could not bring herself to sit. She stood and folded her arms, waiting for the heiress to speak.
“You’ve helped me to make a decision, Brigid,” Des told her, sitting by the window. “I have been considering it for a long time. But now I know what I must do.”
“And what’s that, my lady?” Bri could not even pretend to care.
“I do not love Lord Hookwell. I love another man, and that is the man I should marry. You have helped me to see that Hookwell will not be a good husband.”
“Humbug!”
“I beg your pardon?” Des stood, indignant at Bri’s insubordination. Her servant had never cursed at her before. “I am being very generous by not firing you and having you arrested.”
“Yes, you are a river unto your people, Lady Parade. Your husband was afraid he would not satisfy you in bed!” Bri confessed at last. “I seduced him. It was all me.”
“I know,” Des spun back around and returned to the window. “That is why he and I will never work. I need a real man.”
Bri grinded her teeth as Des kept going. “He may come out of hiding whenever he chooses and when he does I will tell him I love someone else.”
“I refuse to believe he is hiding. Tell me where he is.”
Des looked at Bri in disgust and then, as she handled all problems, Des simply walked out of the room. “He is at the pond.”
Bri loathed humoring Desdemona. But she went to the pond regardless. She could not take the chance that Orion was waiting for her there and she did not show.
But when she reached the pond outside, all she could see were the gardens and then the lily weeds. Ducks and swans recognized Bri instantly and began to float over to her. She often fed them stale bread and they thought she had a bag with her.
The earl was nowhere to be seen. She watched a train of baby ducks following their mother and she sat in the grass and covered her face.
She felt a bite to her ear and she squeaked. “Ow!”
A swan had bitten her, though it was only looking for bread, so she did not shoo it away. It was a big swan, probably male, and very brave to be so close. Bri reached out and pet it carefully before she got up and dusted herself off.
Inside she sought out her mistress and found her in the music room. All she had to do was follow the sound of an abused violin to find her.
“My lady, he is not at the pond…I would appreciate it if you were honest with me. I must have a word with him.”
“He is at the pond,” Des answered, her back to Bri.
“No, he is not. Do stop lying.”
Des let the bow off of the instrument and turned to Bri. “The pond is his new home.”
Bri raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Of course it is. Enough games.”
“There are no games. You should feed him some stale bread from the pantry.”
The heiress went back to her instrument and Bri took in her words. When their meaning settled in, she was enraged.
She was supposed to believe that this woman was a witch? This woman, who could hardly play an instrument or maintain an adult relationship was supposed to be an enchantress? And she would not even look at Bri.
Bri stormed over to Des and ripped the bow out of her hands. She threw it across the room and yelled at the woman “Where is he!”
“I already told you!” Des hissed. “Leave my presence!”
Bri backed up slowly, bristling. She rushed out of the room to avoid her temper flaring worse.
© 2010-2011 Luz Briar.