Lady Emily's Guardian

Mr. Singer

On a calm winter afternoon, I received a small package, the return address from the Salinas Valley in California. Mrs. Gainsley, thick around the middle with my child, brought it to me in my office, and was very curious as to whom it may be from. “Who is William Mosley?” she asked lightly.

It only took a moment to remember, thanks to my wife’s very detailed diary entries. Young Billy, Colonel Faulkner’s servant in Bangalore. How had the young man ended up in California? And why would he be getting into contact with me, after so long? I suspected what the package contained, and I was eager to get Mrs. Gainsley away. I merely said, “He worked for an old friend in India.” I put the package aside, feigning indifference, and said, “Thank you, my Beatrice.” I put my hands on her waist and pulled her to me. “How are you feeling this afternoon?”

“I feel wonderful, Aaron,” she said, smiling brightly. Like Emily, her pregnancy put her in a very sunny mood indeed. Though I was thrilled by the lovely expansion of her sweet body, I was not so happy, though I hid my moods better from her than I ever could from my all-knowing wife. I feared what my dear Emily would say when she came home to a strange child, mine but not hers. And, though I had pretended indifference to the opinions of our neighbors, I feared for our reputation. Mrs. Gainsley’s pregnancy was only yet known to those who resided at Wainwright Hall, and to her sister and brother-in-law, the Sheltons. But she was beginning to show. And what would happen then?

I had been toying with the idea of sending Mrs. Gainsley and the children away to my former home, Oakridge Manor. I had recently received word that my tenant would not be renewing his lease…rather then fill the place, I pondered, why not tuck my lover out of the way to avoid a scandal? But I had been afraid to bring the topic up with her. She was so happy, happier than I’d ever seen her, and I feared upsetting her. In only a couple of hours, I would no longer care about that.

In the two years since Mrs. Shelton had left us, I’d almost been happy again. I had my lovely Beatrice, so devoted to me, even though she knew that, while hope still lived in my heart of Emily’s return, I would never marry her. With Shelton by my side, my law practice was more successful than ever as we took on cases in neighboring counties, still dealing mostly with property disputes and estate wills. But, though my young Peter was growing into a well-mannered and intelligent (though small, always quite small for his age) little boy, my dear Mina was a thorn in my side. As she grew older, the girl seemed tempted to defy me at every turn, especially in my efforts to mold her into, I suppose, something of a replacement for my Emily.

I felt she could not have been less like her dear mother! Besides her looks (which I forgave, as I’d provided them; she was lovely, though, her bright smile balancing out her hawkish features), she was quite opposed to her mother in personality. Where Emily was yielding and obedient, Mina was stubborn, and at times wayward. Where Emily was polite and charming, Mina had a sarcastic streak, which had earned her a stern lecture more than once. Ah, but where Emily trembled and apologized profusely when chastised, Mina merely rolled her eyes and sighed with impatience, eager to get away from me and continue her mischief. I was at my wit’s end, and more than once had I lost my temper with the child…something that had never happened when Emily was a little girl.

We’d had one particularly bad row, only the week before I received the package from Billy. I was sitting in my office in an armchair, Mina in the other, a thick volume of poems by the Brontë sisters, published under their pen names, in her lap. She was reading aloud to me, and I sat with my eyes closed, remembering how Emily would read aloud to me as a child, and I to her.

But I was jolted from my thoughts by the thick slamming of the book. I looked in surprise at my daughter as she tossed it aside, her brows thickening darkly over her eyes. “What is the meaning of this?” I stammered, shocked.

“I will read no more,” she declared. “These poems are boring and worthless, Daddy. May I go out to play now?”

“Worthless?” I echoed in amazement. “But your mother loves the Brontë sisters.” Certainly it was true; as a matter of fact, Emily’s mother’s dying wish had been that her daughter be named after her favorite of the sisters, whose tragic life and death she’d found morbidly fascinating. I shared this information with my daughter, yet again.

“I do not care,” Mina said crossly. “It is obtuse and I hate it.” And the child burst into bitter tears! I attempted to comfort her, puzzled as I was, but she would not allow me to put my arms around her. “Leave me alone!” she cried. “You don’t love me because I cannot be her, and I will not be her!”

I did not pretend to not know what she meant. Upon later reflection, I would feel that the poor girl was justified in her outrage, but at the time, I was merely angered myself. “You are certainly not like your mother,” I scolded. I picked up the discarded book for emphasis. “Her most cherished volume, a rarity, and you treat it in such a manner. What would she say to that?”

“I do not care,” Mina declared again. “She will never return to find out.”

I felt myself blanche; my cheeks grew so cold that they stung, and I trembled. If ever I were tempted to beat my child, it was that moment. But I did not even strike her. I spoke more coolly than before. “For her sake, I hope she does not return,” I said slowly, an absolute lie even as the words left my lips. “Why would she want to come home to a defiant brat of a child? Saucy girl. I have treated you the same way that I treated her in childhood, and she never was such a terror as you.”

Such cruel words, and I immediately regretted them as Mina stared at me, cutting her eyes at me. Challenging me, she said, “Then perhaps you should beat me, Daddy. Perhaps I would not like it as Mummy did.”

“Leave my sight,” I said, and though the look on the girl’s face was taunting, she saw how serious I was, and she left with haste. I sat in a daze, holding that old book for quite some time, wondering what to do about my rebellious child. I thought of Emily…what kind of relationship might she have developed with our daughter? Though they were so very different, I began to think that Emily would have appreciated Mina’s humor. Perhaps I might have as well, were I not so serious-minded in Emily’s absence. Emily would not try to force Mina to be someone she was not; she would love and accept Mina for being Mina.

I felt quite ashamed of my conduct, though I could not bring myself to apologize to the girl. Unfortunately, she inherited her stubborn streak from me.

But I was not thinking of Mina that afternoon in my office. I was thinking of how to get Mrs. Gainsley out of the way so that I might open the mysterious package. I pulled her onto my lap and kissed her softly on the cheek. “You should lie down for a little while, my dear,” I said. The children were off visiting their Auntie Ana and her little baby Joseph, keeping them company while Shelton was away in London. We would be joining Mrs. Shelton for dinner that evening, while her nanny cared for the three children.

It only took a little sweet-talking to get Mrs. Gainsley to agree to a nap. I waited until she had closed the door before rising and locking it behind her, to ensure my privacy. Slowly, I returned to my desk and took up the package again. I used my letter-opener to open the flimsy package, and pulled out a letter and a small, hardbound notebook.

The letter read,

24 September, 18—

Dear Sir Aaron,

I wonder if you remember me. I was Colonel Faulkner’s gatekeeper in Bangalore. The old man is dead these five years, may he rest in peace, and since leaving India I have been living with my brother in California. He has a large farm, and I help him to run it. We are quite prosperous. But the reason for this letter is not to brag of my success to a man whom I’ve only met once. I have enclosed here a notebook, given me by your wife Lady Emily.

I happened upon the lady when I was visiting San Francisco. Your wife remembered me instantly; I have never forgotten her, though I am married now with a family of my own. She was as friendly as always, and looked quite well…she wanted me to tell you that, so that you would not worry for her health or safety. She asked me to send you the enclosed notebook, and in keeping my promise to her, I have not opened it. She would not tell me of the circumstances of your separation, but she seemed quite anxious.

I do hope that all is well. I send my sincerest regards, and I hope to spend more time catching up with the lady when I find myself in San Francisco once again.

Sincerely,

William Mosley

Amazed, I picked up the notebook with trembling fingers. San Francisco! My wife was in San Francisco. In the years of her absence, I had pictured her in numerous places (some of them quite awful). But she was safe and well in San Francisco.

I spent the next hour reading Emily’s letters. The last one had been written the day after Christmas, two years prior; I suppose that Emily had waited until she was quite certain she could have it delivered to me discreetly. Certainly it was fortunate that she’d found someone she could trust; how long might she have waited if she had not happened upon our old friend?

She’d jotted down one quick note, much more recent than the other letters:

My dearest sir,

My sincerest apologies for not writing more. But writing is no longer a comfort to me; as the letters pile up, it only reminds me how much time has passed since we were together. As I wrote, I will explain all when (if) you come for me. Oh, sir, please do! I am in no better state now than when I last wrote. Please come for me, sir. I miss you more, not less, with each passing day.

Love,

Your Emily

I shed many tears upon those letters. My poor, sweet little Emily! She was so desperate and lonely, my dear little lamb. I vowed to go to her…run to her…come what may. Restlessly, I began to pace the office. Yes, I could send Mrs. Gainsley off to Oakridge Manor with the children, and while she was there, I would go for Emily. I’d kill that Lydia Morrison (Smithwick, rather) if I had to, but Emily would be mine again.

As I pondered the situation, I realized something else. I had to look again at her descriptions of them, but I felt quite certain…could it really be? The Joseph and Alice she’d written of in the letters…they certainly had to be Shelton’s long-lost brother and sister! Realizing this, any doubts or fears that I had about running to my Emily were cast away. I wasn’t just going to be reuniting our family…I would be reuniting theirs as well. Yes, this was my destiny.

Elated, I took up the notebook and hurried upstairs to Mrs. Gainsley. She was not lying in bed, but was sitting at the desk, writing a letter of her own, and she jumped and stared, flushing, as I entered. I noticed not her countenance at first. “My dear Beatrice,” I burst out, “It is a miracle.” She stood, and I took her in my arms, squeezing her excessively in my excitement. She led me to the bed to sit, and I told her all.

Mrs. Gainsley was quiet, and though she looked amazed, she did not look happy. “So you will go for her, Aaron?” she finally asked.

“Why, of course,” I said. I only happened to note then that she was much less thrilled than I at the news. “Come now, don’t worry, my dear,” I said, touching her face affectionately. “I have no doubt that Lady Emily will be so happy with the addition to our family. And your sister and brother-in-law…won’t they be happy to have all of their family back again?”

“I’m sure they will,” Mrs. Gainsley said. “Oh, Aaron, I do not wish to distress you, but what of Mrs. Morrison’s threats?”

“Mrs. Morrison may go to the devil,” I declared with a mad grin. “I will deal with her.”

“But is she not conspiring with another?” Mrs. Gainsley asked anxiously. “Oh, Aaron, are you certain that you can take the risk?”

“She claims to be conspiring with someone,” I admitted slowly. I had not considered that aspect of the situation yet. “But…certainly only you and I know of the package from California, is that not so? And with you and the children departing for Oakridge Manor…could I not easily be accompanying you there? I…”

I stopped, seeing Mrs. Gainsley’s eyes flint over to her desk. I had my second revelation that day, this one filling me with dread. I stared at her a moment, meeting her eyes, and I knew. I wanted to curse, scream, throw her from the window…throw myself from the window. Such I fool I was!

I stood slowly and went to the desk. She did not try to stop me, and I heard her begin to sob as I picked up the paper on which she’d been writing. It was not dated, nor did it contain a salutation, but only read:

On your request, I am informing you that he received a package from California.

I took up the paper and turned, holding it up. Mrs. Gainsley covered her face with her hands. Slowly, I asked, “Who is this for?” She did not answer, and I asked, much more loudly, “Who is it for, Beatrice?”

Her sobs were my only answer. I threw the paper aside and hurried to her, taking her by the hair and thrusting her head back. “Look at me, treacherous bitch, look at me!” Mrs. Gainsley stared up at me, her eyes wide and fearful. Her tears continued to flow, but they did not sway me. Holding tighter still to her hair, I shook her a little. “I want to hear you confess it, Beatrice. Confess! It was you who conspired against our family. Traitor! Confess it!”

“Yes, it was me!” she screamed, sobbing more loudly. I still did not let go of her hair. “Oh, please, Aaron, I only did it because I love you…”

“Love?” I screamed. I let go of her hair at last, tossing her head back in the process. She let herself be thrown on her back. “Get up, whore! You claim to love me, and this is how you treat me? And what of Emily? Were you waiting for enough time to pass for her to be declared legally dead? Did you think you’d get to be my wife then? Damn you!”

I trembled in rage. Mrs. Gainsley made no other attempts to explain her treachery, and I would not have heard them, anyway. I paced the room and she watched me fearfully. I shook my head, forcing myself to be calm. “No,” I finally said aloud. “No, you’re not going to ruin this for me. Too much is at stake here.” I looked her square in the eye. “If you were not carrying my child, I would shoot you dead this minute. You owe your life to the child inside of you…remember that!”

She sobbed, and I decided to tie her up. She made no attempts to physically resist me, though she did beg, whimpering, as I tied the knots tighter than I would usually dare, not caring what marks they left on her wrists and ankles. “Oh, Aaron, please do not hate me…”

“I do hate you,” I declared. Perhaps for the moment, it was true. “I never would have thought this of you, Beatrice, never.”

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked in a panicked whisper.

She was tied down. Were she not clothed, and were I not trembling in rage, this would have been quite a sexy scene indeed. But the thought of touching her made me recoil. “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. I gagged her, fighting the urge to slap her hard. “I’m going to meet with your sister. She’s clearly the only one who can be trusted…unless she’s in on this, too.” Mrs. Gainsley shook her head vehemently. “Like I would take your word for it,” I spat in disgust. I left her alone, and through the closed bedchamber door I could hear her muffled sobs.

Though it was a cold evening, I made the walk to the Shelton’s cottage, running as much as the deep snow would allow. When I burst through the door, Mrs. Shelton was seated by the fire, nursing her son. She stared at me in surprise. “Aaron!” she cried. “I was not yet expecting you. Why, what has happened? Sit, sit…where is my sister?”

Mrs. Shelton attempted to usher me to a chair, but I was too excitable to sit. “Are the children in bed?” I asked.

“The nanny just put them down,” she said. “I was just going to finish feeding Joseph and put him down with them.”

“Finish feeding your child,” I instructed, and she obeyed, resuming her place by the fire as I, still anxious, flinted about the room.

“If you will not sit, Aaron, do come stand by the fire and warm up,” Mrs. Shelton said, her tone both kindly and annoyed. “You are making me so nervous!”

I did stand before the fire, and I told the whole story to her: the package, and what it meant, and my confrontation with her sister, when her betrayal was revealed. “Oh, Aaron!” she finally cried when my story was finished.

I looked her square in the eye. “You must tell me the truth, Tatiana. Were you in on this conspiracy? Were you aiding your sister and Mrs. Morrison?”

“No!” she cried. “No, God no!” And I certainly believed her; she was as shocked by it all as I was. When she went to lay her baby down with my children, she came back to find me slumped in a chair. My extreme emotions, and the run through the snow from Wainwright Hall, had exhausted me. She came and knelt before me, putting a comforting hand on my knee. “What will you do now, Aaron?”

I shook my head. “I know not, Tatiana.”

“I can help you,” she said. “I, and my husband. This isn’t just about you and Lady Emily anymore.”

“No, it certainly is not,” I agreed. I sighed heavily. “I cannot trust that Beatrice won’t fulfill her agreement to Mrs. Morrison.”

“Leave her to me,” Mrs. Shelton said. Her face darkened for a moment, and she stood. “Aaron, I must confess that I had the slightest suspicion…”

“And you did not think to share this with me?” I snapped impatiently.

She shook her head. “It was ungrounded,” she said. “And I know you would not have believed it. Would you?”

“Certainly not,” I had to admit. Yes, sweet little Mrs. Gainsley had certainly pulled the wool over my eyes. All of her gushing devotion to me, her praise of Lady Emily…lies, lies, all of it! I was too worn out to even cry.

Mrs. Shelton stepped into the kitchen to prepare tea. She and her husband lived simply, the nanny their only hired servant. I was surprised at how well Mrs. Shelton kept their fair-sized cottage. She had confessed to me that she performed her household chores naked, when her husband was at home to watch. “It pleases him,” she’d said simply, without even the smallest hint of embarrassment. “And it’s much more fun for me than performing them alone, in the daytime, clothed,” she added with a little roll of her eyes. Still, domestic life and motherhood were suiting Mrs. Shelton quite well. I thought then that she had the life that her sister, who had always been the good girl who followed the rules, had wanted all along. Why the damned fool sought that life with me, when I loved another so deeply, I would never really understand.

Mrs. Shelton proved herself to be a true friend that evening. We never did eat the supper she had prepared herself; we merely sat and came up with a plan of action. “You could still send her and the children to Oakridge Manor,” she suggested. “And I could come along with Joseph and our nanny.”

“What about your husband?” I asked.

“He will understand,” she said confidently. She admitted, “He knows what I did. I couldn’t keep it from him. He sat right here and I knelt at his feet, begging him not to hate me for it, and he was so kind and understanding. When we explain everything to him, I’m sure he will be most compliant.” She added, “You do not know how many nights he’s spent awake, worrying for his brother and sister. Oh, Aaron, do bring them home to us! I want his brother to meet his namesake.”

It was thus decided: when we had Shelton’s approval, we would set the plan into motion. I would accompany the party to my home and see them settled; then, I would begin my travels halfway across the world. Mrs. Shelton promised to look after her pregnant sister, and the baby when it came, and would convince her sister to forego her sinister plan. “I don’t think she’d really have betrayed us,” she said, though she looked uncertain. “I think she was just…desperate.”

I shook my head. “She was ready to inform Mrs. Morrison of the package. I will never trust her again, Tatiana, and I do not care what happens to her after my child is born.”

“Well, I do care,” she said defensively. She shook her head. “Do not lay all the blame on her, Aaron. It is my fault. I’m the one who committed the crime in the first place.” As many tears had already been shed that day, Mrs. Shelton then added to those. I comforted my friend (I felt, at that moment, that she was my only friend in the world). She put her face to my lap and cried, “Oh, Aaron, please understand that Bea was always a malleable girl. And she loved you…she always loved you. Mrs. Morrison manipulated her, filled her head with lies, I know it!”

Mrs. Shelton’s pleas calmed my anger against her sister. But even as the clock struck midnight, I was not ready to make the long walk home to confront her. Though I worried for her (or, more accurately, for the baby), being tied up, helpless, and alone all night long, I accepted my friend’s offer to stay the night. I vowed to make my way to Wainwright Hall in the early morning; I did not expect that I would be getting much sleep.

After we had both calmed ourselves, Mrs. Shelton and I began to speak more optimistically about the revelations of the day. “You’ll finally have Lady Emily back,” Mrs. Shelton said, as she sat on my lap. “Perhaps you will finally be happy again.”

“Have I seemed so unhappy all these years?” I asked. I had always tried to hide it, mostly for the sake of the children.

“You used to jest and play all the time,” Mrs. Shelton said. “Not so anymore. Aaron, what are you going to do to Mrs. Morrison?”

Leave it to my dear Mrs. Shelton to get to the heart of the matter. There was no longer any question about my journey…but what would happen upon my arrival? Assuming that Mrs. Gainsley could be pacified, what of Mrs. Morrison? The threat of blackmail still existed. In spite of my thoughts of killing her, I knew I could do no such thing. I said, “I will have to find them first…but my dear lady’s letters were so detailed, I don’t believe that will be the problem. After that…I do not yet know.”

So many unanswered questions. What would I do with Mrs. Gainsley after I returned? Certainly, I could not allow the traitor to live under my care anymore. But I would not wish to abandon my child…and even if I did, Emily would certainly never forgive me for it. She would want to ensure the child’s care, such a big heart she had…

After some silence, I said to Mrs. Shelton, “I will find a way. My Emily will come home.” And the thought of being with my wife again, of touching her and holding her and fucking her…I would be fulfilled again, I would have no more nights alone, she would be all mine.

The thought of Emily turned me on so, and Mrs. Shelton could feel me as she sat on my lap. She rubbed me through my pants, smiling. “Yes,” she said. “You’ll have your precious Emily back. And my husband has a twin brother.”

Encouraging her, I said, “Emily writes that he is a strong, handsome young man.” Though Shelton himself was no weakling. “He has your husband’s boyish features.”

The slut! She was imaging herself with two husbands, for her pleasure. Though she served her husband, she certainly got hers back as well. And certainly if Joseph Shelton had been exposed to the activities of ‘Lydie Smithwick’s Place,’ he would not be so shocked by his whorish sister-in-law’s advances.

Mrs. Shelton opened my pants. She did not take off her housedress, though she did unbutton the front, allowing her breasts (always generously sized; now lactating, they were the largest I had ever before seen) to spill forth and press against my chest as she guided her pussy to my throbbing cock. I was hard for my Emily, but Mrs. Shelton will always do in a pinch. She rode me, pressing against me, her eyes closed as she moaned. We fucked quickly, and I was all the way inside of her, my balls rubbing against her swollen, throbbing clit (I quite imagined that she had not received pleasure since her husband’s departure the week before). I put my hands on her waist and pulled her closer, putting my face down into her chest, allowing the warm mounds to envelope me as she rode. I imaged Emily, my nursing little Emily, riding me and slowly, carefully guiding her nipple to my waiting lips, to suckle...

I had never tasted Mrs. Shelton’s milk before that night, but she said nothing as I, eyes closed, found one of her nipples (smaller than my Emily’s, quite small on a woman with such enormous tits; her nipples were more brown than red) with my tongue, and licked it slowly, squeezing carefully, tasting just the slightest hint of her milk.

I did not ask permission, and she did not stop me. I began to suckle, and she did not cease in her riding. As she moaned, coming, I bit down on her nipple lightly. I could not pretend that her milk was my Emily’s; it did not taste the same. I freed her nipple from my teeth and murmured in her ear, “Keep riding, I’m not quite there yet.”

“Oh, I’m coming again, Aaron!” Mrs. Shelton cried. In fact, she would come three times total before I finally released into her, filling her. She carefully removed herself from my lap, standing up. I stood with her.

“Take off your dress and lie down, Tatiana,” I instructed. “I will clean you.” Her eyes flashed, a wicked little smile playing on her plump lips as she stripped for me. She’d kept on some of her weight from her pregnancy, and for a moment, I remembered how Mrs. Gainsley had been deliciously plump long after the birth of her dead child. I forced her from my mind as Mrs. Shelton lowered herself to the floor.

I could not resist taking my necktie and using it to bind her wrists above her head. She spread her legs wide for me, and I slid between her soft thighs. Putting my head to her cleanly-groomed pussy (disappointingly stretched from birthing her boy, and years of unrestrained sex), I put my mouth to her cunt and sucked, extracting the cum. I thought of how many times I had sucked and licked clean my beloved Emily’s ass and pussy, swallowing as she giggled. For Mrs. Shelton, I spat my cum onto her stomach. She was a respectable married lady (her reputation in the county much improved since her union with Shelton), but she was still my whore.

I dove down into her pussy again and licked and sucked her clit, bringing her to another orgasm. During this play, I never disrobed. We ended our play abruptly when I untied Mrs. Shelton, and she went to clean herself up. I went to the chimney and rekindled the fire, and stood before it when my friend came back into the room, dressed only in her night slip.

“It is late, Aaron. Will you join me in my bed?”

“Not yet,” I said. I felt tired, but restless. “Go to bed, Tatiana. I’m going to sit up a while yet.”

She came to me, touching my face gently and kissing me on the cheek, such a sweet kiss for my wildest of whores. “Don’t worry, Aaron,” she said. “All will be well again. I will help you fix this.”

I smiled at her, loving her more than I ever had at that moment. I kissed her softly. “Thank you,” I said, and she went off to her small bedchamber. She was not so discriminate about sharing her bed, but as far as I could tell, she only shared it with her husband, myself, and a young woman whom Shelton had “befriended” in the village, a client’s daughter.

When I went down the hallway an hour later, after some meditative thought, I did not go to her room. I carefully opened the door to the nursery. I crept quietly past the crib, where Joseph (who so resembled Shelton that it cast aside any doubts of his paternity) slept peacefully. The boy, not quite a year old, was a well-behaved baby, his mother proudly reported, and he very much adored her.

On the small bed lay my children. I stood over them and watched them in silence for a moment. Young Peter looked sickly in the dim light of the room, his little cheeks shrunken. I worried constantly for the boy’s health, though Dr. Yates said that all he needed were more sunlight and exercise. Well, he was an active child, though slower and less exuberant than his sister.

My sweet Mina. I put a gentle hand on her shoulder and gave her a small shake, just enough to awaken her. “It’s all right, Mina, it’s only Daddy,” I said softly.

“Daddy?” she murmured in confusion.

“Yes, love,” I said warmly. She reached for my hand and I took it gently. “Get up, dear, I need to have a talk with you.”

“I was sleeping,” she said, not in annoyance but in wonder.

“I’m sorry, love,” I said. “I’m afraid that this cannot wait.” I picked her up carefully. She was growing more than her mother had; not yet 10, and she was just as tall as her mother, I was certain. I could still carry her with ease, and I took her from the room, managing to close the door carefully behind me without disturbing the sleeping little boys.

I took Mina to an armchair before the fire and sat with her. I held her so close, enjoying our closeness, realizing that I had not held my little girl like that in some time. I had not been able to give Emily such affection when she was a girl…it simply was not appropriate. But Mina was my own…my own, and my Emily’s child, and I kissed her softly on the forehead and squeezed her gently. “I’m sorry, my dear,” I murmured.

“Why, Daddy?” my sleepy, confused child asked.

“I have been terribly mean to you,” I said regretfully. “You do know how much I love you, don’t you, Mina?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Mina said, surprised. “I love you, too.”

“I have good news, my dear,” I said, smiling. “I know where Mummy is.”

Mina’s eyes widened, and I was surprised to see them fill with tears. “Oh, Daddy,” she said, “You won’t tell Mummy I’ve been a bad girl, will you?”

“Mina, no!” I insisted gently. “Oh, no, love, you haven’t been a bad girl, not at all. But I’ve been very bad, and we both know it, Mina.”

“Mummy will forgive you,” Mina said quietly. “Mummy is good and kind.” I wondered if Mina really remembered how sweet her mother was, or if she was merely repeating the ideas I’d given her and her brother over the years. Certainly poor little Peter remembered nothing about his mother.

“She is good,” I agreed. “I will be going to get her.”

“Where is she, Daddy?”

“She is in California, Mina. Do you remember where that is?”

Mina looked thoughtful for a moment. “In the United States? Is that where Grandmother lives?”

“Same country, but they are far away from each other,” I said with a proud smile. My Mina was a bright girl, though she was stubborn about studying anything that did not directly interest her. “I will have to be gone for a very long time, but when I come home, I will bring Mummy with me. And while I’m gone, you and Peter and Auntie Ana and Auntie Bea and Joseph will go and stay at Oakridge Manor.”

“Daddy, may I go with you?” Mina asked. At that moment, she reminded me so of her mother. I’d allowed Emily to travel with me when she was only Mina’s age. I was even tempted to permit it; her presence would be soothing during the long travels, and wouldn’t her mother be thrilled to see her? But the situation that I was walking into was precarious, to say the least, and I did not want to expose the girl to anything that might have made her think ill of her mother. So I shook my head.

“No, darling. I need you to stay here and look after Peter. Auntie Ana is going to be busy with Joseph and Auntie Bea and her baby, so you must be a helpful girl.”

I expected that she would whine or put up a fight, but she again read how serious I was. “I will, Daddy,” she said, and I kissed her forehead. “Daddy,” she said suddenly, “Did Auntie Bea do something bad?”

I was far from upset about it, but I asked her a bit sternly, “Mina, were you eavesdropping on Daddy and Auntie Ana?” Mina nodded. “You were supposed to be in bed. Ah, why am I surprised that you would break the rules?” But I said this with affection, and Mina smiled, almost giggling. “Well, Mina, I don’t quite know how to explain it all right now, but…Auntie Bea is part of the reason why Mummy has had to stay away for so long.”

“And you’re very upset at her?” Mina asked carefully.

“Yes,” I said, not bothering to hide the truth from her. I did not know how much Mina had heard, and I did not know how much she had understood. I wondered for a moment if she had watched me and Mrs. Shelton playing…the thought almost made me laugh.

“Daddy,” Mina said, “I’m mad at her, too. I don’t want to go to Oakridge Manor with her. I hate her!”

“Oh, Mina, don’t say such things,” I said gently, recalling that I had said those words to Mrs. Gainsley herself only hours before. “What your Auntie Bea did was very hurtful, but…she is still family. Do you remember that she is with child, Mina?” My daughter nodded slowly. “Mina, that is my child as well, and so that baby will be you and Peter’s brother or sister.”

“Illegitimate,” Mina mumbled.

“That does not matter,” I said sternly, and my daughter looked at me in surprise. I softened a bit as I said, “Mina, when Mummy comes home she will want to take care of that baby. The baby, your little brother or sister, did nothing to hurt anyone, and we must give the child our love.”

Mina was persistent in her anger towards her once-beloved ‘Auntie Bea,’ and was quite serious when she declared that late night that she would never forgive her. I wondered if I ever could. I still did not know what I would do with her. But after tucking Mina, exhausted from her own sudden emotions, back into bed, I knew I had to return to her and see to her care. By the time I returned to Wainwright Hall, the sky was turning to a dark blue; it was not quite dawn.

The master bedchamber was dark, and cold. I was glad that I had left Beatrice in her clothing. I went to the bed and stood over her; she stared back up at me with dry, bloodshot eyes, and I knew she had not slept either. I did not touch her as I said, “Are you all right?” She nodded calmly, not making a sound behind her gag. “I am sorry that I left you alone for so long, Beatrice, but I needed to get away from you. If I had stayed, I would have done something quite regrettable.”

I left her side for a moment to get a fire going. I did not return to the bed until it roared with life, warming the room. I did not sit down; I merely stood over her, casting my shadow on her unmoving form. “I need to say some things to you, and you must listen carefully,” I said, and she gave me another calm nod. “I am going to San Francisco, and you and the children, with your sister and nephew, will be going to Oakridge Manor. I am bringing Emily and your brother-in-law’s siblings home, and I hope that, when I bring them back, we are all able to resume happy, peaceful lives. You are not going to do anything to prevent that from happening.”

Again, a nod. I continued in the same calm, even tone, speaking matter-of-factly. “I intend to take care of our child, Beatrice. I will give it the love that it deserves. I have no doubt that my wife will be willing to do the same. As of now, I…I do not know what I will do with you. I should banish you from Wainwright Hall forever, and leave you alone at Oakridge Manor. Perhaps that is what I will do. But you wronged Lady Emily most, Beatrice, so I will allow her the final word in this. I have no doubt that she will show you more mercy than you deserve.”

She let out a small noise then, perhaps wishing to voice a protest, or to speak in her own defense. “No,” I said sharply, turning away from her. “No, Beatrice. I don’t want to hear your excuses now. Perhaps when my wife and I return, we will be ready to hear what you have to say.” I turned back to her, and with much difficulty, looked her in the eyes. “Perhaps you had a good reason for it. But you know that this was wrong, Beatrice, you know it, and I haven’t forgiven you for it.” She only nodded again.

I felt the sudden urge to punish her. Oh, God, I wanted to whip her viciously; I wanted to make her scream and bleed and beg. But in her delicate state, I settled for suddenly tearing off her clothing. She wore no corset in her pregnancy, making access to her tits quite easily. I slapped her tits roughly, listening to her muffled screams, wondering how much she enjoyed it. It was always hard to tell with Mrs. Gainsley.

After making her scream and wriggle for a time, and leaving my burning red handprints on her pale breasts, I straddled her hips. I only pulled down my trousers, again keeping my clothes on during playtime. As I fucked her fast and hard, concerned not for her pleasure, I made her a promise. “This is our last time, Beatrice,” I hissed, pounding into her. “This is the last time I use your body for my pleasure, whore, and I’m giving you nothing back.” I said nothing else as I pounded into her, my vision blurring with my rage. Wanting to further her discomfort, I pulled out and came all over her face, something I had not done to Mrs. Gainsley before, always being tempted to be gentler with her.

Ha! My soft feelings for her were gone, and would never be restored. I untied her, and allowed her to stretch out her aching limbs. “You may stay in your old bedchamber,” I said, directing her from the room. “Get some rest. We will be leaving in only a couple of days.” I walked her to the east wing, in silence, and locked her into the room. Before I closed the door, she turned to me.

“Please, Aaron…”

“Silence,” I said. “Clean up and go to sleep. I will bring you your dinner. You sister will be here to see you today, I’m sure.” Without another word, I slammed the door, locked it, and left her alone to sob. Again, I was quite unmoved by her tears.

I wasted no time. That afternoon, I spoke with Shelton and his wife together about the situation. He was amazed, and as Mrs. Shelton had predicted, most eager to go along with our plans. He even wanted to help finance my travels, as though I were in need of his funds. “I am leaving hastily, and you will have to pick up the slack for me in my absence,” I said, clapping a hand on my partner’s shoulder.

“I’ll do that,” he said. “I’ll work round the clock, if you’ll only bring Joseph and Alice back!”

I accompanied the party to Oakridge Manor, seeing to the house that I owned and had not stepped into in years. The same couple of servants who had worked there for years were still under my employ, and would continue to keep the house for my family. I made sure to locate the best doctor in the area, for Mrs. Gainsley’s inevitable childbirth and in case any of the other children were to fall ill.

Once I was satisfied that they were all settled, and that Mrs. Shelton would be able to exercise control over her sister, I was ready to be off. I kissed and hugged my children briefly, not knowing that I would never see my son again. In spite of his sister’s loving care and attention, we would lose him soon. Perhaps I sensed that, as he weakly said, “Goodbye, Daddy,” and how frail he felt when I held him. Had I stayed, would he have lived? I will never know this.

I went straight to London, and from there, my travels proceeded smoothly. I was quite grateful to be admitted on a large ship leaving for New York the following day, staying in a standard passenger cabin. I did not socialize or flirt during my travels; I kept to myself and focused on my plans. I even resisted the urge to pleasure myself, wanting to save as much love as possible for my wife.

My dear Emily! Each day I drew steadily closer to her. From New York, I boarded a train to Chicago, and from Chicago, traveled along the newly-laid passenger lines all the way to the West coast. I marveled at the drastically changing scenery, for I had not spent much time in the United States, and then, only in New England, where my mother resided. But I did not allow my fascination to distract me for long. I arrived in San Francisco just shy of a month after departing from Oakridge Manor, and as I stepped off of the train, I suddenly felt quite exhausted. And truly, I had only just begun.

I decided to have a rest, just a short one, only long enough to restore my strength and prepare for the next step. I made my way to a plain-looking inn, bringing along the only trunk in my possession. I checked in, slept through the night in the small room, woke in the morning, and put on the suit that I had paid to have cleaned and the shoes that had been newly shined. I felt clear-headed and determined. I would have breakfast at this inn, then make my way through the city. I figured that I would have my best luck in the evening, in a pub, if I were to ask around about ‘Lydie Smithwick’s Place.’ Certainly it would be well known.

But I would soon find my plans to be unnecessary as I made my way downstairs. The small dining room, though filled with the smells of cooking breakfast, was nearly empty. The only other occupant, in fact, was a young man, and I knew I was not mistaken in identifying him as Joseph Shelton.

Well! I stood for a moment, unseen at the bottom of the stairs, and smiled to myself. It had all come together so easily, since that package arrived. In spite of the troubles with Mrs. Gainsley, everything else had fallen into place, and here it was. I almost felt a little afraid. Emily was so close now, after so long, and what would she say upon seeing me? I willed myself calm, summoning my usual confident manner, and went right up to the young man.

“Mr. Shelton?” I asked calmly. He looked up, surprised.

“Yes? Do I know you, sir?”

“No,” I said. I stuck out my hand. “I am in law practice with your brother. My name is Aaron Singer.”

I almost could not resist laughing out loud as the young man blanched. “Singer, you say?” he asked, accepting my outstretched hand. He motioned for me to join him.

“Yes,” I said. “You are an acquaintance of my wife, Emily?” He nodded wordlessly, and I did laugh a little then. “Take a breath, young man, and let me tell you a very interesting story.”

Joseph Shelton was no less surprised when I finished explaining the situation to him. “I have come here to take my wife home,” I said. “And you and Alice would be quite welcome, and are most encouraged, to come along. Your brother has proven himself to be a friend of mine, and he would be very happy to have all of his family together again.”

The young man was eager to be home, to see his family again. He was most pleased when he learned that he first nephew was named for him. “When we were younger, and Danny started working for that lawyer, I had to just let him go his own way,” he said. He looked proud. “He’s made something of himself.”

“He wants to help you,” I said. “I’d like to help you as well…but you must help me first.” The first thing that I asked him to do was take me to my wife.

“She was at church,” he said thoughtfully. He checked his battered pocket watch. “Surely she would be finished with that by now?”

“It is important that I see her right away, but that I am not seen by Mrs. Morrison,” I said. At his puzzled look, I amended, “Mrs. Smithwick, rather.”

He leaned in close to me. “She really killed her husband?”

“Mutilated him, shot him, and had his body thrown into the ocean,” I said grimly. “She is a manic, and my wife has been her hostage.”

“I didn’t know any of this,” Joseph said. He had already heard all of this, but he was still in disbelief.

“How might you arrange for me to meet with Emily?” I asked. I imagined that he could bring her there, that she could stay with me in my little room while we came up with a plan.

Instead he said, “She may be at my cottage. It is in the back of the property, and we wouldn’t have a problem getting you back there. You would not even be spotted from the house if you kept to the trees.”

I nodded, imagining that Emily would be having a pleasant afternoon tea with young Alice Shelton. I imagined her flushing at the sight of me, jumping up from her seat and rushing to greet me with tears in her lovely eyes. My heart began to pound.

I forced myself to eat, and I paid for both of our meals before Joseph led me out. The place was not far from the inn at all, actually, only a couple of blocks away. The streets that we passed were crowded; though the businesses were closed, people in their Sunday clothes were wandering about, and we blended in with the crowd. I had no fear of being spotted by Lydia Morrison, but I realized that, if I were to confront her, I did not yet know what I would say or do.

As Joseph suggested, we walked in the trees around the perimeter of the property. I could see the house somewhat through the trees, looking much as Emily had described. I wondered when I might see the inside of it, how I might ultimately get the run of it.

We arrived at the cabin. My heart was racing, blood pounding in my ears, as Joseph led me through the door. But no one was sitting in the small, open sitting room or kitchen. Joseph motioned up the stairs. “She may be up there,” he said without looking at me. The stairs led to a small loft and two doors, both closed. I climbed up the steep steps alone, slowly.

I entered the first room, and found it darkened, the heavy curtains drawn over the small window. A figure on the bed stirred and sat up. “Joseph, you certainly have kept me waiting!” she declared, sitting up and stretching, exposing her pert breasts. She yawned slightly, and looked at me. It took her a moment to register who I was, and she gasped, covering herself. “Sir!” she cried in surprise.

I smiled and closed the door behind me. “Covering yourself against me, Emily? Come and say hello.” I knew what finding her this way meant, and it explained her lack of writing over the past couple of years. But I was not angry, far from it, and I smiled warmly to show her.

She let the covers drop from her, but rose hesitantly, her eyes fearful. My own darling, afraid of me? I had expected a much warmer and excited welcome from her. But when she stepped naked from the bed, entirely exposed to me, I saw the reason for her fear as my eyes fell upon her swollen belly. I met her eyes, and they were filled with tears. “Oh, sir,” she whispered, “It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”

“Come to me,” I said, and she stepped into my arms, sobbing helplessly against me. When she began to attempt to speak, I quieted her. “We have much to explain to one another, my dear,” I said, holding her against me. “I daresay that we will be talking through the night. But let’s not say a word to distress one another until we have consummated our reunion.”

She lifted her head from my chest and looked at me in surprise. I tenderly seized her chin and kissed her softly, though my overwhelming lust overtook me, and we were very quickly on the bed. As I threw off my clothes hastily and my wife lay back, spreading her legs for me and biting her lip in eager apprehension, I remembered our last time alone together, in the bright garden in Barcelona. I had fucked her then with no restraints, and that afternoon, after so many years apart, it was the same.

I held down her slender wrists and for a moment, we stared into each other’s eyes. I could hardly believe what was happening; I think she felt the same way. I found myself whispering, “Don’t be distressed, Emily, your friend is here to help you. Are you not glad to see me?”

“Oh, sir,” she whispered, “I’ve longed for you. Oh, sir, please forgive me!”

“Silence, whore,” I purred in her ear, and I felt her hold her breath, anticipating my next words. “Right now, I do not care what you have done. What are you going to do for me now, Emily?”

“Oh, sir, I’m yours,” she whispered, tilting her head back, exposing her soft white neck. I nibbled at her, and she gasped, her hips pressed against mine. Her belly, though visibly pregnant, was not deliciously huge, not yet, but I felt her bump against my stomach as I leaned into her, running my hands over her breasts, her rounded stomach, her wide hips.

“That’s right, darling, you’re mine,” I whispered. I briefly touched the gold wedding band around her finger. She still wore it, by God! The bitch from hell had at least not taken that from her, and I felt a surge of gratitude. No matter what, she had been mine all along.

“Have me, sir,” she begged, more pointedly thrusting her hips against mine, grinding against my crotch, “I have craved you sir, please, I need you.”

Well, if she’d been properly satisfied while we were apart, she certainly put on a good show of covering it up. Eager as she was, I wanted to drag it out a bit, make her wait. I took my time, grasping her wrists again and tasting her sweet body, suckling softly on her nipples for a moment, imaging that soon, quite soon, I would be drinking her delicious milk again. Was I dreaming?

I had to look up for a moment, look into her eyes, and make sure that I wasn’t pretending again, that it wouldn’t be an earnest-looking Mrs. Gainsley or hooded-eyed Mrs. Shelton looking back at me. It was wide-eyed Emily, smiling slightly, but looking just a bit distressed. I leaned toward her and kissed her softly again, tightening my grasp on her wrists until I felt that I was crushing her.

I released her wrists as I ran my hands down her arms, down her sides, as I kissed her stomach. She grasped the pillow behind her head and moaned softly, longing for me, her breath becoming shallow as my lips trailed down to her (still very well-groomed) pussy. From there, I felt I could waste little more time as I lapped at her in preparation, encouraged by her gasps.

As I prepared to enter her (she was so incredibly wet for me, it was glorious), she gazed up into my eyes. “Oh, sir, I love you. I have missed you so!”

“I love you, too, my Emily,” I said. I slid gently into her, and lo! It was a perfect fit, and I held myself inside of her for a moment, safely tucked in where I belonged. “We are together now, darling, everything will be good again, I promise.”

“Oh, sir,” she moaned, raising her hips as I fucked her slowly. She moved her hips enthusiastically, and we were in a perfect rhythm again. I held her wrists down once again, bruising her, as I began to fuck her more quickly. She encouraged me with her soft whimpers. “Oh, God, sir, fuck me harder, sir, I need it.” When I’d fucked one of my other whores and tried to invoke the image of my Emily I would close my eyes, and try to remember the details of her face in ecstasy. I was unable to take my eyes off of her as I fucked her in her lover’s bed, even as I began to massage her tits roughly. She lifted her legs, not without some difficulty, and I shoved myself deeper inside of her.

Our reunion was no disappointment, to be sure. Weeks of self-denial were relieved that afternoon, and when I made my Emily come twice before releasing my painful load into her, I knew she had enjoyed it as well. I could not resist the old game of cleaning after fucking, and I swallowed up her mess first, finishing off by licking her inner thighs as she giggled. She next went to her knees for me as I sat on the side of the bed, and cleaned me off with her long, eager tongue.

When finished with her task, she stayed on her knees and looked up at me, her gaze a mixture of adoration and uncertainty. “Oh, sir,” she finally said, “What are we going to do now?”

I gave my wife a brief, contemplative look. For the first time, I noticed that she did look older. Well, certainly, she was in her late 20’s now. She was no less beautiful, though. Her hair, worn loose (for she no longer bothered with curls or fancy styles), was as long and glossy as ever, and her skin was still soft and pale, with a slight warm flush. If possible, she was more beautiful now than ever, and I felt confident that she would only grow lovelier in the years to come. And she would do so by my side.

I touched her face. “My darling,” I said, “There is much to do, I know. We must formulate a plan against your dear ‘Mother...’”

“Oh, sir, do not call her that, even in jest!” Emily cried, and I chuckled softly. “I am serious, sir. I do hate her.”

I was surprised to hear these words, as she had insisted, even in her very darkest moments, that she could not hate the woman who had wronged her so. “We have much to discuss, much to plan,” I said again. “But before we get down to it, perhaps you would not mind sucking my cock?” For indeed, the mere sight of my darling, on her knees before me (pregnant at that, even if it were not with my child), had caused me to go hard again.

Emily grasped my cock lovingly in her hand with a smile. “Of course not, sir. I would love to taste you again.”

“You are still my slave, are you not, darling?” I asked softly. She looked up at me, and smiled sweetly.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “I’ve always been yours, sir.” And the warmth of her sweet mouth around my throbbing cock, after spending so much time apart…heavenly.