Memories, page 13
* * * *
Will sat in bed, wearing his nightshirt, with a sense of almost unbearable anticipation burning through him. Every time the house creaked he jumped, every noise made him hold his breath in case it heralded Dearne’s arrival. His body was harder than it had ever been in his entire life, and his skin felt too small for him. Too small for the feeling of raw, unmitigated lust coursing through every inch of him in a way he had spent most of his adult life trying to suppress. It was as though a lifetime of need was singing through his veins, sharpening his senses, and making his whole body feel raw. Sitting in the bed, waiting for Dearne, was agonising. Partly because he couldn’t wait, and partly because he wanted to give in and run before he got any further into the mire that was his desires because it felt as though this was simply the start. If he gave in to it…He ran a hand through his hair.
Dearne seemed able to share his body with such joyous abandon, seemed to enjoy Will’s scarred body, the one he thought he would spend a lifetime hiding. Every time he thought about the way Dearne had looked at him, kissed every mark, every scar and then had loved every inch of him almost brought him to his knees, but even as he embraced the joy Dearne brought, he found he had to fight even harder to silence the voice in his head.
The one who told him he was an abomination.
Will sat up, wrapped his arms around his legs and pressed his eyes into his knees, forcing away the images and instead remembering feeling Dearne’s whisper soft touch on his skin. He looked up when the door opened and Dearne slipped in. He locked the door behind him, but then stayed by the door looking at his with his head on one side.
“You look like a man about to go to the gallows rather than a man bent on a night of unbridled lust.”
Will had to smile. He scrubbed a hand across his face. “Sorry.” He emerged still smiling and Dearne smiled back as he crossed the room.
“How about you tend to my wounds. We could play at patient and physician.”
Will’s smile became a grin. “What?”
“I will strip, because you ordered me to, and spread myself naked on your bed, so you can examine me. Thoroughly.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“You are a madman, you do realise that, don’t you?” Will said, laughing.
Dearne laughed with him. “Well, it got that gallows look off your face,” he said and pulled his nightshirt over his head and tossed it onto a chair, leaving him unashamedly, gloriously naked.
“Your turn.” He held out a hand.
Will quailed, but if Dearne was willing to put up with his scarred nakedness, who was he to argue. He pulled off the nightshirt, and then drew up his knees again and hid behind them. Dearne climbed up onto the bed, and knelt before him. He sat back on his heels and put his hands on Will’s legs, stroking downwards until he reached his feet. He let his fingers drift down right to his toes, then he brought his hands back up to Will’s knees, and pushed them gently apart. Will resisted a little but then let them go, exposing himself, little bit by little bit. It felt like exposing part of his soul along with it.
Dearne hummed approvingly as he ran his gaze over Will’s torso and down. Will thought his heart might beat right out of his chest when his gaze stopped at his cock. Dearne slid his hands from Will’s parted knees back up to his thighs and hesitated, both hands bracketing him where he needed the touch the most. Will waited, but Dearne just smiled, tantalising him, torturing him. Will allowed it for a moment, and then something inside him burst free and he grabbed Dearne around the neck and pulled him to him, devouring his mouth. Dearne pushed until they were both sprawled on the bed and Will spread his legs to let him lie on top, but then pushed and shoved at him until they reversed positions, and Will lay over Dearne who looked up at him with naked excitement in his eyes.
“That’s it,” Dearne whispered. “Take me. Take anything you want. Take all of me.”
“Maxim,” Will whispered, and watched as those grey eyes darkened. “My Maxim.” Mesmerised, he lowered his head to take the offered kiss.
But then a massive crash followed by loud shouts from the lower floor jerked him right out of his trance and off Dearne’s pliant body.
He scrambled to his feet, and Dearne sat up, equally shocked. Outside the room doors opened and slammed, and voices could be heard. Will’s heart beat so fast he felt sick. He dragged on his nightshirt, wrestling with the sleeves, as did Dearne, and they waited until the noise died down.
“I’ll find out what is happening,” Dearne whispered, with his ear to the door.
“Just go back to your room so it doesn’t look like you were in here with me,” Will hissed.
Dearne scowled at him. “If someone is breaking into my brother’s house I am not cowering in my room.” He pulled the door open a crack, checked the corridor, and then slipped out.
Will stood behind the closed door and leaned against it for a moment, then grabbed his clothes. He pulled them on, fashioned a knot of some kind with a cravat, and then headed out, following the rumpus which appeared to have ensued downstairs. He ran lightly down and headed for the parlour only to find Dearne in there, still in his nightshirt, wrapped in the arms of a tall, extremely handsome young man.
Lady Araminta, resplendent in a puce lace-trimmed robe and lace cap, pushed past him and cried out.
“Augustus, my darling boy, whatever is going on!” The darling boy unwrapped his arms from Dearne and took hold of Lady Araminta.”
“Aunt Minty,” he said and squeezed her. “I came as soon as I could, and then when I came in and found Uncle Max I couldn’t believe my eyes. He’s here, alive!”
The boy couldn’t have been much over twenty, if that. His hair was a darker, more burnished shade of chestnut brown than Dearne’s, and he was much taller and broader. He emerged from his aunt’s embrace, and even in the dark, Will could see the boy was almost trembling with excitement.
“What has been going on? Why wasn’t I told?” He looked from Dearne to Lady Araminta, and both seemed struck dumb.
“Who are you?” he said, catching sight of Will.
Dearne came forward. “This is William Marsden. Steward from Denton. It’s a long story,” he added with a wry smile.
Miss Rose arrived, complete with candles, enabling a little light to be thrown on the tableaux. She was wrapped in a serviceable gown with her dark hair in a long plait down her back.
“My Lady, what on earth is going on?” she said, putting the candles on the dresser by the door.
Will watched as the explanations became jumbled when everyone spoke at once, but it seemed Augustus was Holbrook’s son. Will’s head was racing. Did Holbrook know Dearne was alive? Was he on his way? But everyone seemed to avoid asking the most obvious question.
“Did you know Dearne was here?” Will asked.
Augustus shook his head. “No. I had no idea. I thought he was dead. I didn’t make it to York for the memorial, so I thought I would call in to see my aunt. I knew she would be terribly overset.”
“Thoughtful, although a little late for arrivals?” Dearne said on a laugh.
“Don’t mind Gussy, he always calls at the oddest of times,” Lady Araminta said, patting her nephew’s arm.
“When did you last see your father?” Dearne asked, with a disarming smile.
Augustus, or Gussy, smiled back. “Weeks. I’ve been in London since I finished up at Oxford,” he said. “Father arranged rooms for me, and I’ve been having a bit of a lark,” he confessed, making Will marginally less anxious.
Dearne grinned and Lady Araminta looked relieved. Miss Rose stepped in and started making arrangements for Augustus to have a room. Will caught Dearne looking at Gussy as he left the room and was pleased to note Dearne looked as confused as he himself felt.
They trooped out, returning to respective rooms, bidding each other goodnight. Will gave the candles to the ladies, and he and Dearne headed back to their rooms in the dark, alone. After a quick check no-one was around, they headed into Will’s room.
Chapter 15
Dearne flopped onto Will’s bed and watched as he wrestled with the tinder box to get the candles lit. He closed his eyes against the sense of suffocating frustration threatening to consume him every time he tried to cast his memory back to those lost days, maybe weeks. Seeing Gussie made his head hurt abominably. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.
He felt the bed sag as Will sat beside him so he removed his hands and blinked up at him. Will was frowning. Those dark eyes were troubled. He had the most interesting eyes. Sometimes it was so easy to read his emotions in them, sometimes he was a blank mask. At the moment, he was clearly concerned.
“Are you tired?”
“Not especially.”
“Why don’t we try and go through day by day what you remember and work out where your gaps are. Write everything down and that might jog something, or nudge something back? I think your gaps are bigger than you think. Waterloo was weeks ago.”
Dearne heaved himself into a sitting position and scratched his head. “I don’t suppose it would hurt.”
“Do you have pen and paper?”
Dearne pursed his lips. “I think Minty has a writing box in the parlour. I will go and get it.” He swung his feet to the floor, grateful at least for the fact his strength was returning, and his leg hurt less and less as the days went by. He glanced at Will who was sitting cross legged like a tailor on the bed, still fully dressed apart from his shoes. His dark hair was rumpled and his jaw shadowed with the first signs of his beard. Something warm set up in the vicinity of Dearne’s chest which had nothing to do with lust. He hesitated, then leaned over the bed and kissed him gently on the lips. Will kissed back and then smiled shyly.
“Thank you,” Dearne said, and then kissed him gently again.
“What for?”
Dearne stroked his face and looked at him. With those drawn down eyebrows and dark, wild hair and eyes he looked forbidding, but there was a warm heart in there, despite the way he had been treated.
“For being here with me. For putting up with me.”
Will put his hand over Dearne’s and met his gaze, his eyes serious.
* * * *
Will lit more candles so they would be able to write easily, and waited for Dearne to come back. His unease increasing by the moment. The arrival of the young nephew had taken them all by surprise, and added to the sense he had that something was deeply amiss.
Dearne returned carting a large box, which he deposited on the table Will had set up.
“Christ, Minty.” Dearne huffed as he stood and stretched out his back. “What the hell do you keep in here?”
Will just smiled and waited for Dearne to open the box. Inside, they found clean paper, inks, and cut nibs, everything they might need neatly stored.
Dearne set himself up and put everything back tidily, opening each of the little drawers.
“Are you looking for something?” Will asked.
Dearne shook his head. “Wondered if Minty had any love letters in here.”
“Well, if she did, I hardly imagine they would be left out in plain view, do you?”
Dearne snorted.
Will shook his head. “Come on. Waterloo. June. Where were you?”
Will scribed diligently as Dearne spoke of the day Wellington finally vanquished Napoleon. In the newspapers it had been reported as a glorious victory. Listening to Dearne’s quiet recollections it sounded more like hell on earth. Will wrote in his quick, neat hand and kept his eyes focused on the script. At some points he couldn’t look at Dearne. His recollection of the battle was detailed. His recollection of waking up in the hospital frighteningly vivid as he recalled the terror and the confusion. His recollection of leaving France and returning to England appeared to be missing though. His next memory was of being in York, bedding a handsome Hussar and then heading out. That was all. Will brushed aside thoughts of Dearne with a handsome Hussar as best he could.
“What date is it now?” Dearne asked.
Will had to think. “It’s the middle of August.”
Dearne shook his head. “I have around two months missing then.”
Will wished he could help more. Wished he could take that frightened frustration out of his eyes. It appeared Dearne remembered waking in the hospital on the battlefield and nothing else apart from the small memory of the Hussar. Nothing until he had turned up at Denton in Will’s cottage.
“Perhaps I need to go to York to retrace my steps that day.”
Will nodded.
“What am I going to do if it never returns?”
Will put the quill down and blotted the page he had written on. He put the instruments back into the box, and closed the lid.
“If it never comes back you will learn to live with it and move forward. You are alive and you are here. That’s really all that matters.” Will wished he had something more profound to say, but at least Dearne smiled.
* * * *
Dearne pushed his kippers about his breakfast plate and watched as Will devoured his. Normally he loved kippers but today they made his stomach queasy. His head was still pounding, and for some reason his leg had set up an agonising throb again, just to add to his misery. Araminta was breakfasting in bed, but before long Gussy joined them. After the pleasantries had passed Dearne put his knife down and rubbed at a grease spot on the linen.
“Was Holbrook at the memorial service?”
Gussy dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and swallowed the enormous mouthful of sausages. “I believe so.” He nodded, swallowed some more and continued. “He was devastated at the news you had perished. We all were. Couldn’t think of a world without you in it.” He swallowed again and looked at his plate.
Dearne blinked. That was either terribly moving, or he was doing it a bit too brown. “Nice to know you’d all miss me.”
Gussy’s eyebrows went up. “Of course we would.”
“So where is your father now? I need to let him know I am alive and well. I think we may need to be discreet.”
“Think he’s heading back here with mama, well, at least according to Aunt Minty. Why do we need to be discreet?” Gussy asked, shovelling more sausages into his mouth.
“There is something odd going on.” Dearne’s heart was pounding as he watched his nephew’s reaction carefully.
Gussy paused for a moment, mid chew, and then, frowning, continued chewing and swallowed. “Such as?”
Dearne had quite forgotten the capacity young men have to eat, and the ability to exclude everything whilst they are engaged in the pastime. Dearne sighed and looked at a smudge of grease on Gussy’s chin.
“Such as someone trying to kill me, someone selling my property…” He watched the young man carefully, and felt Will tense by his side.
Gussy paused in the shovelling of food. “Who the hell would do that?”
“I have no idea, but I would rather like to find out.” Dearne kept his words bland, but Gussy pokered up immediately.
“Are you suggesting the family had something to do with it?” His handsome face was flushed.
“No, merely stating a fact. Why would you presume I thought you had something to do with it?”
Gussie stood; his chair pushed backwards. “I didn’t say me! Why would you think it might be me? Why the hell would I want rid of you?”
“I didn’t say you.”
“Well, it damn well sounded like it to me!”
Dearne stood up, too, although he was a good few inches shorter than Gussy. His nephew was red faced and angry. “Gussy,” he began, but Gussy banged the table with his fist making Dearne jump and Will tense.
“Stop calling me that. It makes me sound like a grubby schoolboy!”
Dearne’s hold on his temper began to slip. “Well, stop bloody well behaving like one and I might. For God’s sake, Augustus, everything in the world is not about you. I can’t remember what happened. I can’t remember a thing since Waterloo.” Dearne was shouting now, leaning across the table. “Do you have any idea how that might feel? How it might feel to return home and find my inheritance sold and then to be set upon and left for dead? Do you? Do you?”
Gussy’s anger faltered and he stood back. “You remember nothing?”
“Nothing.” Some of the fire went out of Dearne and he flopped back into his chair and rubbed his face. “Fucking nothing.” He looked up at Gussy who was frowning. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bite at you,” he said.
Gussy shrugged. “It’s nothing. Sorry I got a little hot under the collar. You’re my favourite relative. I’d hate to think you thought me capable of something so…so…horrid.”
Dearne felt even worse. He shook his head. “Pay me no heed.”
“Nothing changed then?”
Dearne shot him a look, and smiled at the tentative humour he saw sparkling there. He glanced at Will who shifted uneasily.
“Let’s wait for my father to get here,” Augustus said. “He will know what to do.”
“Let’s do that,” Dearne said, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. If he kept his eyes shut, Gussy was less likely to read what was in them when he thought of Holbrook.
* * * *
It felt like waiting for the hangman. Will sat in the parlour with Dearne who had a book open in his lap, but had not looked at it for an hour. Lady Araminta sat by the window with Miss Rose playing some kind of card game, and Augustus had disappeared to the stables.
He thumbed through the pages of a magazine he had selected and found an interesting article on crop management, but found he couldn’t settle enough to master the content. He realised just how unused to sitting about idly he was. His days were filled with labour. Often back breaking labour, which meant, he realised, he didn’t need to think above much. Sitting in the parlour like this, just waiting for Holbrook to arrive, was interminable. What the hell were they to say to the man? What was Dearne going to do? Confront him?
Will’s gut churned uncomfortably. He closed the magazine and placed it on the table, making Dearne look up.
“I think I might take a walk,” he said to no-one in particular. Lady Araminta and Miss Rose looked up and smiled.
