The Diary of Cozette (4 page)

I have taught myself to whittle. It is a primitive form certainly of passing the time, but I find it an agreeable one. One of the young boys helping with the garden showed me the small penknife he carries in secret. He says it was his father’s. I am no good at it and much better creating with words, so I have discovered. I have taken to telling stories to the young girls at night as we lie in our beds. It gives them something other than despair to go to sleep on. I abhor the nights, when my mind and heart is restless with thinking about Ernest. I wonder if he is thinking of me? Perhaps I will whittle a spear and poke out Mr. Abbot’s eyes for taking my Ernest away.

~A.C.B.

The young boy with the knife slipped a note into my pocket today as I was cleaning beans. It stated simply, “Return today.” I turned to ask him how he’d come by it, but the boy was already gone. Thunder rolls in the distance, a sign of an impending storm. I pray it will not detain Ernest. Tonight I will sneak from my bunk and wait in the cellar, trusting he will be there.

~A.C.B.

Had the torrential rain not arrived, it is likely Mr. Abbot would have called upon Ernest to do other chores and he would not have been able to meet with me. But it was fate that made it possible and I would not waste the opportunity to speak to him of these feelings I keep deep inside for him. He has no idea of the utter joy he has given to my bleak colorless existence simply by his camaraderie. Is this love? Does he feel the same? I do not know, but this I do know, his affection and care for me I shall forever keep sealed in my heart.

My dreams are filled with thinking of us in wedded bliss, our moments together as husband and wife. He is wise beyond his years as evidenced by his gentle persuasion to ensure the safety of my passage. I must pen every word of our evening together, to keep the memory alive even as I leave him in but a few hours. So that when I close my eyes, I will remember….

Our clothes sodden from the soaking rain of the day, Ernest held my shoulders as he spoke with urgency in his voice.

“I overheard Mr. Abbot’s conversation this morning to a strange man in his office as I prepared the fire. I pretended to go about my business. Mr. Abbot assured the man of my loyalty under penalty of repercussion and so permitted him to speak freely.”

“Oh, Ernest.” I touched his shoulder, horrified at the thought of what Mr. Abbot was capable of. Indeed, I was a great deal more concerned about his welfare than the news he carried.

“It is not fear of Mr. Abbot’s threats that bring me concern, little bird, but the subject of their conversation that prompted our urgent meeting.”

Ernest clasped my hands between his, keeping his voice low.

“I heard them strike a bargain of fifty pounds for a young virgin, one that is agreeable and preferably has fiery disposition.”

I backed away, not wanting to hear the truth plainly before me.

“There is no girl possessing these qualities living here other than you. This is why you must leave, my little bird, my sweet Cozette. Since Elizabeth’s disappearance, I have heard tales of the horrors that await young girls in the hands of these men. Their wealth makes them very powerful and they find prey through men like Mr. Abbot, whose greed extends beyond his noble facade.”

True, I was no innocent to these stories. I had heard a few told in hushed whispers, but believed them to be rumors of bitter, ungrateful residents of the orphanage. However, this was Ernest, and I knew he would not lie to me.

I drew our entwined hands to my sodden chest. My blouse, transparent from the rain, clung to my skin. “Then we shall leave at once…together, tonight, this very instant.” I held tight to his hand and turned to leave, true to my word. He tugged me around to face him and brought our entwined hands to his lips, placing a firm kiss to the back of my hand.

“I have enough to get you safe passage to London. I will need to stay on a few more months and earn enough to come to you. But I swear, I will find you as soon as I am able.”

“It is too dangerous. No, I cannot even consider the thought of leaving here without you, Ernest.” My youthful determination grew more defiant.

“And I cannot bear to think of what fate awaits you if you do not leave this very night.”

He drew me into his embrace, warm and secure, but deep down I knew he spoke the truth. How would I survive without him? Yet I could not disregard the brave intent of his concern for me.

“Please promise then that you will make every effort to be well and come to me without undue delay. I will secure employment and find us suitable quarters and when you come, we will make haste to Scotland where we will find a way to be married.” I was not concerned under these dire circumstances that Ernest had not yet asked for my consent to be his wife. There was no time to stand on protocol.

He held me tight and most fervently I wanted the moment to last an eternity.

“We’ll have a grand life. You can write your poetry, I will tend our garden, and in the winter, you can read to me. I don’t require much, Ernest. I am content as any amount of wealth can afford to be here in your embrace.”

I nestled my cheek where his shirt parted, exposing his bare chest, drawing my arms tight about his waist, determined not to let go. Here was my safe haven, my Ernest whose scent was the earth and rain, strong and courageous.

His chin rested atop my head and I snuggled closer. The wetness of his shirt was cool on my skin. I am thankful for such companionship amid such deception. I wanted to find a way to seal our promise to one another, my longing to be one with him ardent as ever.

With my face hidden against his firm brown chest I dipped my hand cautiously between our pressed bodies and stroked his length even as Edward had once forced me to do. For all I knew, this gesture pleased men, but to what end I had yet to learn.

Ernest uttered a quiet gasp accompanied by a slight jerk of his groin against my palm.

“I want to give you pleasure, Ernest. Does this please you? It frightens me so that I may never see you again.” I clung to him as though some phantom specter was about to snatch him from my grasp. His skin, warm and smelling of firewood, teased my nose.

“Cozette,” he spoke softly through clenched teeth, “do you not know the dangers in teasing a man with such gestures?”

“As though I administer such practices with every man I meet? Be assured, my sweet friend, I have touched no one with greater knowledge of my actions.” I laughed quietly at his absurd comment. “Besides, what possible danger do I have to fear from you, my dearest confidant and my most cherished companion?” My breath hung heavy in my chest, desire, like smoke curled deep in my belly. Wetness seeped from the juncture between my legs. I knew well how babies came into the world. One had only to observe nature to understand the principle. Yet the union of a man and woman intrigued me, and the intensity of my emotions left me breathless and wanting.

“I will not risk leaving you with child, Cozette. It will be enough to find your way on your own.”

His hand covered mine and stilled as my grasp held firm. At that moment I wanted only to give myself to him completely, I had not given thought to bearing his child, though if that were to occur, I could not imagine a greater happiness. “I have no way of knowing if I shall ever see you again, Ernest, and I fear never being able to show you how deeply I care for you.” I lifted my gaze to his, realizing that since my arrival I had grown so with little effort I could stand on tiptoe and meet his lips fully.

I could not see his expression for the darkness, but my body sensed the tension between us, crackling like the air of a spring storm. He held still, his gaze poised forward. “I know my hand upon you affects you, you have grown strong and hard at my touch.”

I heard him swallow, and release a quiet sound deep in his throat.

“I cannot dispute the pleasure, Cozette. It is natural for a man to experience such changes in the course of events leading to…”

I waited for him to finish, waited to hear the words from his own lips. My heart beat like fury in my chest and I picked up his palm, resting it on my breast. “And is it as natural for me to possess similar desires? See what you do to me, Ernest, how my heart beats with such fire,” I whispered. With haste, I unfastened the rest of the buttons of his shirt, leaving it to hang open, exposing his firm chest.

I steered my hand around his trim waist, his skin still damp from the rain. His flesh was cool across my palms as I explored the sinewy flesh of his back, pressing down toward the curve to the top of his breeches. My body warmed in response to his naked flesh. With a boldness I knew not was in me, I leaned forward and placed a kiss on the warm, hard plane of his chest, delighting when his body reacted agreeably. Driven by desire, and his hands caressing my shoulders, I journeyed farther on my virginal quest, teasing his tight nipple with my tongue and nipping him with my teeth.

He did not speak, but his quiet sighs gave me the courage to slip my hands below the waistband of his breeches, finding to my wicked surprise that he wore no undergarments.

I pressed my young breasts against his chest, taking full advantage of his silent permission to explore. Glorious as an artist’s sculpture his buttocks were firm and muscular, his sinewy strength contracting beneath my inexperienced hand. He caressed my breast, mimicking with gentleness my hand over his smooth buttocks. I closed my eyes, lost to the pleasure I derived from touching him. I felt no sin in our exploration. We were two lovers about to part for the unknown, with but one last chance to express our deepest, most binding emotions.

I pressed into his hand with a sigh. “I need you to feel your skin to mine, Ernest. I no longer care what is proper.” Propriety, from what I’d seen thus far in my life, was meant for those living a life I would likely never see.

His hand brushed over my shoulder, drawing free the ribbons that held my soaked blouse in place. It fell around my waist, where it hung, still tucked in my skirt.

I stood before him, unafraid, and proud of my young breasts, plump and untouched awaiting only his pleasure.

As though mesmerized, he cradled each in his palms, his thumbs raking light over my soft rosy nubs, causing them to pucker tight, further arousing the desire quaking deep inside me. He cradled one breast and lowered his mouth to run the tip of his tongue over one pert nipple. My breath caught for the sheer pleasure it gave, so strong that it threatened to buckle my knees. I grasped his head to hold me upright as he continued his divine attention to my breasts. My fingers threaded through his dark curls, flexing with each nip of his mouth, caught between bliss and curiosity at what exquisite transformations were taking place in my body.

Liquid heat seeped from my quiver and I sensed a trickle running slow and cool down the inside of my fevered thigh. He cupped my bottom through my skirts, holding me in place so he could sample my breasts without reservation. A need so fierce built inside me that it caused my skin to perspire and chill all at once.

“My sweet little bird,” he whispered between my breasts where he had so lavished his attention.

“I must have you, Ernest, quell this desire with your member, I beg you.” I had no idea if I should faint or be ill, but I knew the desperate call of my body to mate with his.

Even as his mouth crushed against my lips, bruising them with ardent kisses, his hands pulled up my skirts and his fingers parted my rose. I wanted to weep for the pleasure it gave me. I yearned for more. I wanted him most desperately, though I had no idea of how to appease my desire.

His touch stroked me unhurriedly, until I squirmed against his hand, in need of greater fulfillment. I gasped, begging him to stop the insistent stroke of my sensitive bud that tormented me.

“I feel dizzy, Ernest, I fear I do not know what is happening to me. How can I relieve the need building in me? How can I desire your touch and yet want to be free of it at the same time?”

“And does my touch please you, my little bird?”

“Indeed, my dearest Ernest, but I feel faint. What shall I do?”

“Only trust me,” he whispered.

He picked me up, kissing me once as he lifted me to sit upon a table facing him. Holding my gaze, he lifted my skirts over my knees and pressed his body between my legs.

At first I was keenly aware of my exposed womanhood, and perhaps on another occasion, his bended knee would have signaled a proposal.

I knew the risk of a child existed, but I cared not at the moment. I leaned back, braced on my arms and invited him to my quiver with a smile. “I pray sir, whatever you have in mind, do not stop. My body craves you alone and I will not be denied.”

His grin, white and even, shone in the darkness. It was no longer the shy smile of a boy, but filled with the passion and lust of a man. He leaned forward and captured my mouth in a searing kiss as he drew my hips toward him.

Each time our bodies parted for an instant a wave of cool air would rush my quiver. His head between my breasts, he left warm, wet kisses over my stomach and ribs even as he bunched my skirt higher around my hips. His kisses led him to the secret garden between my legs. I could not see his expression, but I sensed the intensity of his desire.

“I want you to know that it would give me no greater pleasure than to bury myself inside you and claim you as mine. Do not think that I have not burned for you every night.”

I reached for him in response, pulling him into a long ardent kiss.

“Lie back,” he whispered against my mouth as he brushed his fingers over my wet peach. I shuddered once, nearly coming undone.

“I want you to remember this, remember always how much you mean to me, little bird.”

His dark head nudged between my legs and he kissed my inner thigh, working his way deliciously to my waiting opening. I lay back, staring at the dark ceiling above, my hands resting gently atop his head as his tongue entered my secret garden, teasing and giving me greater torment. My knees pressed against his shoulders, my hips rocked gently against his mouth, his tongue darting repeatedly over a spot that caused me to become dizzy with a most delicious but unbearable need for release.

With expertise that I had no idea he possessed he lavished my rose, nipping my sensitive bud, bringing my hips off the table. My pleasure increased to where I wanted to scream for release. My fingers, woven through his dark curls, clenched and unclenched riding the intensity building inside me. At once, my body broke free and a wave of thunder rolled over me, taking me high upon a euphoric crest until I thought I could no longer breathe. Unable to quell the sensations overtaking me, I pressed my fist to my mouth to keep from screaming from the exquisite pleasure.

Blindly, I reached for Ernest, only to have another mysterious wave crash over me. Overwhelmed, I fell to my back, fisting my skirts. Ernest’s fingers dug into my flesh, his mouth sucking my sweetness with each precious shudder. At last the exquisite sensation subsided so that I was able to breathe. I held my hands to my stomach, legs parted still and took a cleansing breath.

I smiled.

Ernest raised his head and I braced on my arms as our eyes met. His gaze glittered in the dim light of the cellar. I was utterly exhausted, but no less alert. I sat upright and cupped his sweet face in my hands, smiling down at him with full affection. “Wherever did you learn to do that, Mr. Henley?” “It would seem that my friend was right. It does help to practice on a pomegranate.” He offered me a broad grin, most thoroughly satisfied with his performance.