Chapter 5
William was an idiot, a presumptuous, reckless fool. And a coward, he admitted ruefully. He’d fled the scene of his almost crime and quickly locked himself away in his private quarters, unable to face Elizabeth in fear that she would hate him for what he’d nearly done to her. Thank God the butler arrived with that letter when he had! William was two centimeters away from sealing his fate with the devil himself and what on Earth had he been thinking? Clearly, he wasn’t thinking at all. It was as if his body acted on its own accord, pulled towards her like a moth to a flame, overwhelmed with the desire to taste her lips, to feel her against him, to express the strange emotions he felt whenever she was near.
He had to stop this.
It was wrong.
Perhaps it would be best for him to stay away from her, make sure the servants provided her with whatever comforts she required, and lock his devious and sinful advances away so that she would be safe from his wickedness. William needed to get a handle on his emotions and baser urges or else he’d be of no help to the poor girl. Of course she’d been receptive, he was practically her captor! She had no idea who she was or even who to turn to for help. Perhaps on some level she’d felt obligated to acquiesce his attempt at kissing her, or maybe she was ignorant to how she should act, considering the unfortunate loss of her memory. Whatever the circumstance, William was a man and should have acted like one, not tucked his tail between his legs like a coward. And how many times was he going to flee from her, seeking refuge in the safety of his room and berate himself for his actions? She must think him a very strange man.
Of course, the letter he’d received was nothing of import, only a message from his mother telling him about a play she and her sister had seen and how precocious the actors were. She’d also carefully reminded him that the servants were not there for his amusement and that just because she was away, he shouldn’t be lenient on their expected duties. William was notorious for having the servants sit in the library while he read his poetry aloud. Naturally, they thought everything he wrote was brilliant, in fear that if they said anything to the contrary, they’d be severely punished. Anne was appalled when she discovered that he’d been doing this for months; filing her servants into a room for a seemingly eager audience, save the footman, who William swore was too tall for his own good and made him nervous. She put a stop to it instantly when she rang for almost fifteen minutes for tea only to find that Judith was busy sitting on Anne’s sofa! Listening to her son’s poetry! Oh, it was uncalled for!
He wondered if Elizabeth would like his poetry.
And that was the problem, wasn’t it? He was wondering too many things about this girl when what he should be doing was making arrangements for her to stay somewhere permanently; take her to the authorities or something of that sort and let them figure it out. He shouldn’t be taking in a stranger to his home and allowing a, hopefully, unwed woman to stay with him without an escort. Hell, there were so many things he should not be doing! What the bloody hell was this girl’s story? Why did he feel as if he’d known her for ages? Why had he hastily forgotten his upbringing, cast it all aside to even conceive the notion that he should kiss her? And furthermore, why had he been drinking for the past two hours?
He sat at his writing desk near his bed and dragged his hands down his face before he leaned back in his chair and groaned. He was awfully hungry and he’d made up an excuse to miss lunch, afraid of being near her again. Maybe he could sneak away and tell Judith to bring something to his room. If he didn’t eat, his inebriation would get the better of him, having drank almost an entire bottle on an empty stomach. It was damn good whiskey, though.
“Oh, Elizabeth,” he spoke wistfully to no one, fingering the feather of his quill as he thought of something to write, distracted by it in his drunken state and delicately ran the tip of it along his high cheek bones with a smile. “You have such…big…green things for eyes,” he chuckled and took another swig of whiskey. “No, that won’t do at all, will it? Let’s see…your eyes are like a meadow. Oh, that’s lovely!” He started writing, slowly, as he furiously concentrated on the movement of his hand, leaning forward gradually as he started to feel dizzy, closing his eyes as the room started to spin. He was out cold in seconds and the emptied whiskey bottle fell to the ground.
* * *
Elizabeth was bored out of her mind. William had run off hours ago, leaving her to dine by herself at lunchtime. That only managed to eat up thirty minutes of the day. She’d walked the halls of the main living quarters, poked her head into various rooms, looked at the family portraits, delicately lifted a crystal figurine atop a mantle, hemmed and hawed and plopped down on a sofa. And that fun excursion only lasted an hour. What did these people do during the day? She heard the maids running around, gathering the wash and dusting furniture, heard the horses outside whinny in protest as the men at the stables gave them new shoes. Everyone, save herself and William, was doing something, busying themselves with things far more exciting than she at the present moment.
She didn’t dare go to William’s room, even though she desperately wanted to. He obviously wanted to be alone, away from her. She pouted and crossed her arms over her chest, rolling her head on the back of the sofa. God, she was so bored! Perhaps she could find Evelyn and keep her company while she did her chores. She liked Evelyn. She spoke with an amusing accent. It was British, though it had a roughness that showed her lack of education and it was charming, sort of refreshing in a way.
As she ventured to the servant’s quarters, she smiled, excited that she might find something to do. However, as soon as she opened the door and went into the kitchen, she was met with a very angry woman who had a ruddy complexion, breasts the size of watermelons, a stomach that protruded proudly in front of her impeccable posture, wild red hair that was haphazardly swept up into a chignon, and clutching a large wooden spoon that she was currently waving high in the air.
“What are ye doin’ in my kitchen, Miss?” She shouted in a rough Irish brogue.
Elizabeth stiffened, her eyes wide in panic and she shook her head in fright.
“Speak up, lass! My ear’s been damaged!”
Elizabeth backed away slowly, terrified that she’d crossed this impressively bulky woman. Luckily, Judith came rushing over with an equally terrified expression and several other girls that she hadn’t seen before continued their various tasks in the large kitchen, looking up at her occasionally and whispering to one another.
“Miss, did you need something?” Judith asked kindly. She wasn’t much older than Elizabeth, but she was much taller, wiry and rough around the edges from years of hard labor. “You can ring for a servant if you require anything. No need for a lady like yourself to come ‘round here.”
Elizabeth wrung her hands together, her bright green eyes darting from one woman to another.
“What’s the matter with her?” the older woman pointed at her with her spoon as she spoke to Judith.
“She can’t speak, Margo,” Judith shouted in the older woman’s ear.
“Is she dumb?”
“Not in mind, no. Had an accident of some kind an‘ Master William picked her up,” Judith yelled easily, obviously used to shouting when Margo was around. She turned back to Elizabeth and said, “Miss, why don’t I take you to the parlor?”
Elizabeth sighed, looking dejected. Margo quirked her brow. “Don’t matter to me as long as she stays clear of my kitchen! I got too much work to do and this one’s only goin’ to get in the way.”
“I know, Margo,” Judith shouted. She turned towards Elizabeth and rolled her eyes. “She’s very particular about her kitchen. Let’s go, but quickly as I’ve got a mess of potatoes to peel for supper.”
“You’ve got a mess of potatoes to peel for supper, so you better be quick,” Margo said sternly, obviously not hearing that Judith had just said the very same thing. “The Master might not be strict with you lot while the lady is away, but I expect you to answer to me, you hear?”
“Yes, Margo,” Judith shouted as she opened the door.
The two women exited the kitchen and Judith hurriedly escorted Elizabeth to the parlor. “Now then, you just keep here for a while an’ dinner will be ready in no time.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, frustrated that she still could not. Judith tilted her head as she watched the woman run to the desk and procure a pen and paper, scribbling something down.
“No use in doin’ that, I can’t read a lick.”
Elizabeth sighed and set the pen down on the desk atop her useless writing.
“I wish I could help you, ma’am, but I’ve got my chores.”
Elizabeth nodded in acceptance and sat down on the sofa, watching Judith as she left. She looked at the grandfather clock and sighed. Fifteen minutes had passed. Only fifteen.
* * *
William jerked awake on his desk, rubbing his eyes as he let out a loud yawn. He stumbled a bit as he stood up, realizing he hadn’t quite slept off his inebriation. He looked at his desk and picked up the stationery that he’d been writing on and laughed at what he’d written, crumpling it into a ball and tossing it aside.
“Never write while drunk, William,” he said to himself and stretched his arms high above his head. It was then he’d noticed how dark it was outside and that he’d slept for a few hours. His stomach growled and as if on cue, Judith knocked on his door and alerted him of dinner. He walked to his mirror to check his appearance and clumsily dragged a comb through his hair, foregoing his coat since it was wrinkled as he’d sat on it while he slept. Though, if he’d managed to put his glasses on, he would have noticed that his vest and shirt weren’t in much better shape. Pleased with his attire, he made his way downstairs for supper.
* * *
“Elizabeth,” William grinned as the footman pulled out her chair for her to sit at the dining table. “Aren’t you a vision?”
She blinked and gave him a sideways glance as she sat down, distracted for a moment as the footman laid her serviette in her lap.
William took a large sip of his wine before sitting down, which he did so heavily that the glasses on the table shook. “That is the stuff,” he hissed as the alcohol warmed his already lubricated palette.
Elizabeth finally put two and two together and stifled her grin. William was drunk! And he was very amusing, so far. The footman, however, was not amused as he tried in vain to place William’s serviette in his lap, desperately attempting to reach in with it as William wildly leaned forward and backwards, blocking his path. The footman, the very one that was too tall and made William nervous, pursed his lips and held back his frustration when William winked at him. Apparently, playing games with the servants wasn’t appreciated. William rolled his eyes and leaned back, allowing the footman to place his napkin where it belonged. William looked at Elizabeth and said, pointing his thumb in the footman’s direction, “No sense of humor, this one.”
She smiled as she took a sip of water, studying him carefully. She decided that disheveled wasn’t at all a bad look for him. His vest was unbuttoned, shirt collar hanging askew about his long neck, wild brown curls framed his chiseled face, one sideburn was curling upwards from where he’d passed out on his desk and his eyes were twinkling with joy. He seemed relaxed, obviously from the liquor but she couldn’t help be a bit put off that he made no mention of his actions in the library earlier that day. She needn’t wait long, though.
“Elizabeth,” he furrowed his brow as he stabbed a potato with his fork, “I’m sorry I tried to kiss you,” he said loudly.
The footman cleared his throat. Elizabeth’s face turned red. William chewed on a potato.
“You know,” he continued without swallowing first, waving his fork in the air that was filled with his next bite, “that was a very bad thing,” he swallowed, “that I did. I apologize.” With his potato filled fork, he made a little flourish with his hand and bowed as best as one could while seated. He smiled and took his next bite.
Elizabeth was incredibly embarrassed as the footman quirked an eyebrow at the exchange. She took a bite of her broiled hen and looked anywhere but at the two men in the room.
“You shouldn’t be so beautiful,” William said casually as he polished off his glass of wine. “Or have those lips of yours,” he continued and Elizabeth turned a darker shade of red. The footman rolled his eyes and walked towards his master.
Holding up a bottle and speaking with a tight lip he asked, “More wine, sir?”
“Yes, thank you, Johann.”
John, as the footman was actually named, obliged his master and poured him another serving before walking back to his station.
“A beautiful woman such as yourself ought to be married. Are you?” Elizabeth shook her head and shrugged. William nodded as he chewed his hen and narrowed his eyes, considering the blonde woman across from him. “That’s good.” He quickly corrected himself however when he said, “What I mean is, it isn’t good for you. I’m sure your family is disappointed that you haven’t been married, but it is good for me.” He furrowed his brow in thought and lifted his steak knife in the air as he propped his elbow on the table. “I mean…oh, never mind. The point is, you are unattached and therefore, my guilt has been absolved…for having tried to kiss you.”
God, if there was a hole nearby, Elizabeth wanted to hide in it. William started laughing, though at what, she had no idea.
“My mother is going to have a fit!” He wiped his mouth as he smiled. “But you needn’t worry, my dear. She’ll be away for a few more days. Until then, you’re stuck with the likes of me.” He waggled his eyebrows and Elizabeth smiled, chuckling at his strange behavior that seemed to set her at ease, finally. “How did you spend your day?”
She licked her lips and looked at the footman, then back towards William.
“Oh right, you can’t speak,” he chuckled. “How unfortunate. I’ll just assume your day was filled with all sorts of exciting activities. I wonder,” he took another sip of wine, “if you wouldn’t want to take a walk in the gardens after dinner?”
She nodded, desperate to do anything other than sit quietly in that damn house, even if William was a bit intoxicated. Though he’d embarrassed her earlier, he was too damn entertaining to care at the moment. Then there was the lovely notion that they could be alone together again, which she wasn’t at all against.
“Very good,” he smiled, “and I promise to keep my hands to myself,” he added with a coy smile. Elizabeth blushed prettily and ducked her head. “But, if you keep that up,” he pointed towards her red cheeks with his steak knife, “I make no promises.”
She gasped. William chuckled. The footman cleared his throat.
William tapped his glass with his fork rudely and glared at the footman. John pursed his lips and walked over to his master and poured him another serving. William smiled and lifted his glass. “Mother is going to have a fit about this, too. You see,” he whispered, leaning forward so she could hear, “Johann is her favorite pet. I can see the gears turning in that Nordic head of his, even as we speak. He’s a snitch, that one,” he nodded and John shifted uncomfortably against the wall, looking offended. “So if I’m going to be outed, I might as well make the most of it, eh, Johann?”
“I assure you I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sir,” he replied without looking him in the eyes.
William smiled knowingly and gulped his wine. “Well, I’m stuffed; how about you, Elizabeth?” She nodded, chewing on her lip with a small grin. “A walk in the gardens might do us some good, but let’s go now before I pass out again,” he laughed and stood up abruptly. “Thank you for gracing us with your ripping personality, Johann,” he bowed to his footman and held out his elbow.
Elizabeth giggled and accepted the arm he offered her and together they walked outside.
John was not amused.
“It’s John, you git,” he grumbled as he began clearing the table.