The Rogue’s Forbidden Love Rules

Chapter 5 : Elizabeth's to do list 2

“Do you think I am safe here in this room? Or does one have to just hang low until the wedding does happen? But she shook her head uncomprehendingly and said,

“I should think you’re safe.” Be careful.” “Come with me?”

“No I won’t. I believe that this kind of life is for me, yet I shall sit and think about it and probably stay here alone.

He grinned at her. “Excellent. Why not tell me if you plan to embark for the Orient on the morning following?

She looked right into his eyes then reciprocated his grin. “Of course, of course you shall be the first to hear of it.” With that he stepped out of the room and Elizabeth was left to her own devices. she sat long and late, listening for the sounds in the house increasing, dwindling, companies departing, the family retiring, servants tidying up the rooms used for the dinner, the last scenes between Benedick and herself repeated in her mind and than wondered.

What if? What if she could become a different person – anything but the dull, dual imitation of a woman she was trapped in? What if she could do all the things that she would never dream of doing? What was to prevent her from making such a move? Anyhow at twenty eight, no one gave her what she ought to have been considered as deserving she could have become anything that she wanted always never figuring in the calculations of any one.

Her honor had been irreproachable for years—for all the years it had been important that she keep her character blameless. It wasn’t as if she were about to go out and demolish that reputation right down to the foundation, in any case.

But she was not going to do anything that any man who was well-established in the ton would not do in any given day thoughtlessly. And if they could, then why should she not? She put her delicate hands up, unclasp the pins which held her lace cap on her head.

When it was released from the shore she pulled it out from her hair, and several lovely strands of hair followed it as she took it into her hands, rotating it as she debated her next step.

When had she become the type of woman who wore lace caps? When has she stopped on pinning her dreams to fashion? When had she degenerated to a level where she could be moving in circles away from Aunt Beatrice ‘s spiteful tongue? She rose drunk with power and the sherry, and balancing herself turned slowly to the fireplace, twisting the cap in her fingers. crouching beside the fire, she looked into the pit filled with fading ashes, and the hissing of orange fire frustrated her.

What would it be like if she could have this all over again? Without hesitation she hurled the lace cap into the fire grate. At last without any preliminary movement, the round disk of cloth just lay there, an almost clinical white against the palpable heat of the burnt wood.

Right when Elizabeth started questioning if she should grab the ruined garment from the pile, it catches fire. She did only this before her, raising her hand to take a small step back as the orange fire blazed up, seizing a small piece of lace until it became alive, writhing against her fingertips when she was unable to spare a single inch of fabric from the flames.

When she saw the woven cap over her ears turn into ashes Elizabeth bursts into laughter for she have tasted scandalous and wonderfuls as if nothing can hinder her from achieving anything that she aims.

Tilting on one heel she went storming across the room to the earl’s desk. When the woman lit a stubbed candle, she got to the top drawer and took a clean sheet of fresh paper. Stroking it gently with her hand, she tweaked her lips as she looked at the huge mass of sheer white that lay before her before nodding her head in approval and opening the silver ink-pot which was placed beside her, picking up a pen to begin writing.

She wet the nib of the pen into black ink and read over the items on the list of things she would do, if she dared. The first answer was plain, and though she would not think to tell Benedick that her heart spoke it, she thought it only right that she be true to herself and write it down.

Indeed, there was only one thing that she thought she would abhor having to do at some point in her life without any chance of finessing it. They placed the nib onto the parchment, and she wrote with purpose and authority. Kiss someone She immediately looked up, for the moment they were written, she half expected she would be caught writing something so bold.

Bringing her focus back to the writing on the paper she tilted her head to one side. It hardly looked like enough, did it? “Kiss someone” was not quite what she wanted to say though. With a clenched lower lip, she said only one word. Kiss someone—Passionately It was a long breath that Passionate Elizabeth could not even remember she had held one inside of her.

The only thing that occupied Sherry’s mind at the moment as she typed away was there can be no turning back now, as I have just written the most scandalous thing. The next few items came easily as the dialogue that took place between Benedick and her brought out the ideas.

Smoke cheroot and drink scotch

Ride astride Fence

Watch a duel

Fire a pistol

Gamble at a gentleman club

After such an inflight of the emotions Elizabeth raised her head and sat back to look at what she had written. There was the faint glimmer of a smile on her lips as she went through each item visualizing herself sitting in a room with the haze of smoke at Whites drinking scotch and tea, cards in one hand sabre by her feet and planning a duel she was to be attending in the morning.

The image provoked a deep chuckle from the inside of me. Imagine! She almost stopped there, with the seven items that had come quickly. But for all that it was only a list, a dream, never theless, Elizabeth understood that it was much more.

A sometime she got the opportunity that she could be honest with herself. Which prompted her offering to write down the things she would most desperately like to do.”

The things that she could never utter to any person, let alone to herself. Hugging herself, she looked at the list, and realizing that the subsequent items were going to be even more painful to write. “Right, then.” She said the words loudly in her voice that sounded like she was readying for a fight. Then, she set pen to paper. Dance every dance at a ball She looked at me and forced a bitter half-smile play.

Well, Elizabeth, that item is bringing it home as to the fact that this is an imaginary list. She adored dancing. She always had. Growing up, she had sneaked out of her bedroom to watch the dancing that her parents used to organize.

There, up high, above the dancing space where she imagines she is dancing in a ball gown on her night rail like those in the play. Dancing was what she had expected in her first season; and as years passed and became a spinster, the invitation stopped coming her way. It had been such a long time since she came out dancing and that was only a country dance.

Too long. There in the darkness, she allowed herself to admit that all those years of standing on the outskirts of dance halls all over London tired her. She hated the position of a wallflower but she had never been able to pull herself out of that role..

And she, looking at society life as a witness for the last ten years since her debut, could not even imagine, being in the middle of it. Of course, she would never be on the center of that luminescence. The women in the middle of the ton were lovely. And Elizabeth was far from beautiful – she was plain, somewhat overweighed and far from exciting.

Squinting her eyes to fight the onset of tears she penned down the next on the list. Be considered beautiful. Just once. It was the most unlikely item on the list…she could only remember one time, one brief instance in her life when she had ever reached for the goal.

Still, I can recall that time in Margrave of Ralston where he made her feel like she is beautiful and Elizabeth knew that he did not see her that way. Not he was just a man who wanted to chase his cockscomb, to ease the pain of a young girl so that he could go to his mistress at midnight. But he did it in that moment to make her feel beautiful. Like an empress.

For how she wished to be that girl, she wish to be Cornella again . But of course, she couldn’t do it. It was just a silly exercise. Taking another deep breath, Elizabeth rose from the desk, folded the paper neatly and secreted it between the curves of her breast and the bodice of her gown before placing the ink and pen where they belonged.

Examining the shining candle and taking care not to blow it out she crept towards the door. Only when she got up to leave the study, head toward the stairs, she heard a sound from outside – low and indecipherable. Levering herself up to stand, Elizabeth made sure the door was opened only wide enough for her to fit through, also to ensure that whoever or whatever was out in the hallway would be visible.

It was completely black and she could not distinguish anything that was outside the car, but she was certain she was not alone; the open door let a soft giggle come through.

“You are beautiful tonight. Perfect. The Aragon Angel indeed.” “You’re required to say so…to flatter your fiancée.” “My fiancée.” It was easy to tell that these were the words of the reverent. “My future duchess…my love…”

The words floated off on a very prim ‘I’m shocked!’ and Elizabeth clapped her hand over her bursting Laughter when she saw that Mariana and Rivington were standing just outside the Foyer area.

She stood shocked for sometime, her eyes dilated and she was not sure of what to do next. What decision could she quietly shut the door and wait for them to go? Or should she try to meet them accidentally and bring to an end what was undoubtedly a lovers meeting?

Her thoughts process was cut short by a soft, “No.” We shall be caught!” “And what then?” The cloudy tones were deep with the faint laughter of a man. At last, I realized that he was serious so I said to him, “I suppose then you shall have to marry me, Your Grace.”

Elizabeth pursed her lips feeling stupid, they were actively flirting and she could not even see it? When had Mariana change her status and became a doxy? More to the point, could maestro Rimsky-Korsakov accept that his one-time friend Rivington would groan in the darkness? “For her it was ‘anything that gets you into my bed more quickly.’” It was Mariana’s turn to laugh, although she must admit in was utterly improper . And then there was the quiet – the only noises heard being the noises of lips against skin and silk against skin. Good Lord, said Elizabeth, her mouth opened in surprise. Of course, she shouldmake sure to close the door. Then why didn’t she? Because it wasn’t fair. It was just not fair if her baby sister should be experiencing this wonderful new world of love; her sister who had followed her around as a child; the one who sought her counsel and companionship. transformers inclinations Mariana had come out with a vengeance the star of the seasonand Elizabeth had been so very proud of her . And when they were all present at the reception and Mari had caught the eye of the catch of the ton, Rivington, Elizabeth had danced with her little sister. And Elizabeth was glad for Mariana. But how much longer could she bear it, see Mariana living the life, which was so dear, so long wished for, to Elizabeth herself? Everything would change.

She would do all that Elizabeth had never done Mariana would do all that Elizabeth had never done. She would be wed, and have children, and manage a home and grey as a wife of a husband who adored her. And Elizabeth would stay in Aragon House a spinster, single woman all her life. Until Benedick found a wife. And she was banished to the countryside or to the countryside – choose the proverb you like best. Alone. Elizabeth fought the lump in her throat, and would not let herself revert into self-pity seeing Mariana so happy. She tried to shut the door to the study without any noise in order to let the affectionate lovers to continue with their acts. But Mariana got to there before she could, she blurted out, Wheezing. “No, Riv. We cannot. My mother would certainly strip us both naked and horse-whip our skins black if we got in her way of having this wedding. Rivington groaned softly. “She has two other children.” “Yes, but…” Elizabeth did not have to look at her sister, for her thoughts were reflected on the pause that followed. What are the probabilities that any of them will get engaged to wed any time soon? “Benedick will marry,” Rivington said, still keeping=read partially a jest in his voice. “He’s just still going to wait until the very end to do it.” “You still don’t understand, Benedick is not who I am concerned about.” She is welcome at Fox Haven.” When the lady of the house darted to another subject and pronounced it crass that she should have Rivington’s country seat catalogued, Elizabeth was outraged. She? Could they mean her? They had discussed her fate? Almost as though it were necessary for her to part of an unfavored family, an orphan adopted and neglected at that?! As if she is some spinster who is not likely to obtain a husband in this lifetime. Which, of course, she was. Her mouth closed. “She will make a wonderful aunt,” Rivington added. Excellent.

He’s already delegating the task of getting rid of the heirs to the dukedom to the old spinster aunt. “She would have been a great mother to your son,” Mariana said and the intensity of the words that had left Mariana’s lips made Elizabeth smile through her tears. It y swas extremely difficult for her to overlook the past tense that her sister was using at this stage Mari wished that the lady could have been so lucky to have what they possessed. She so deserves it.” Rivington sighed. “She does. I can’t help but think that only Elizabeth can grab at such a life for herself. If she remains so…” He hesitated and tried to find the right word and Elizabeth almost leaned forward trying to overhear – her position ridiculous she could easily fall down. “Passive…she shall never have those things.” Passive? Elizabeth could easily picture Mariana silently giving her thoughts her seal of approval. They say that ‘Elizabeth needs an adventure’. Of course, she shall never seek one out.” They said nothing more; their words, which did contain no ill feeling, but whose impact was so unbearable, hung in the air around Elizabeth. And then suddenly she just could not breathe anymore or crying perhaps would start. “Shall I get you an adventure perhaps for yourself, my beauty?” Rivington’s sensual tone was regained, as for Mariana’s responding giggle could not be stand anymore. Elizabeth closed the door as well, and she shut the noise out. If only she could get the words they spoke in her head out. Passive. What a horrible word. What a terrible sentiment. Introverted and bland and conservative and meant for a mundane, predictable, extremely, tiresomely, and relentlessly unexciting existence.

She could not hold the tears back any further; the dark side of her was wondering if she was going to be vomiting anytime soon – all her life she had been dreaming of owning the house and now that the miracle had happened she was faced with being sick in it.

Heaving in deep breaths, she tried to regain her composure: the Warrington sherry and the were dizzying her as surely as any assault.Still, she must carry this through.Great tears rolled down her chubby face as she tried again. She did not desire to become such a woman—the one whom they talk about. She never decided that she wanted to become that woman. Nonetheless, it had happened, however – and the how, the precise details of the how she could no longer even say – somehow, she had lost her direction…and somehow, without knowing it, she had made this choice instead of that: this ordinary, mundane, safe life rather than the exciting, the passion-filled one. And now her younger sister was just a few feet away–not just from potential suicide, but from bringing about her ruin, or as good as– and Elizabeth had never been kissed.

They know only too well how it is enough to make a spinster commit suicide. Of course she had done enough of that tonight. It was enough to make a lonely old maid get out of her chair and do something. Inserting her hand into her bodice she pulled out the crumpled piece of paper that had been in her hands some time before. Touching the rounded edges of the square, she thought of what action she was to take. She could get into bed and just cry and drink sherry and not spend the rest of her life filled with regret at never having done something as well as, even worse than regret for herself, the certainty that everyone around her knew she was passive. Or, she could change. She could complete the list.

Now. Tonight. She touched the gangle of hair sticking on her head; realized her lace cap was missing. Tonight. She would attempt to start with something that was difficult. An item that would catapult her right into this new radical, unconventional, Liz not at all Elizabethan path. With a final deep draw of fresh air, she flung the door of the study open to reveal that dark foyer of Aragon House and made sure not to care if she would run into Mariana and Rivington. However she did not even notice people were missing from her presence. She only wanted to be free of them at any rate, she told herself, as she climbed the broad marble staircase to her bedroom. She had to change her gown. Lady Cornella was going out.