The Belvedere.

You Should Have Objected Sooner, My Love!

Harriet closed her eyes, waited, and prayed. Life for her, as she knew it had now changed, but in what way she did not know.

He seemed to be caught up in indecision for several moments. She knew that he could not have put any of her clothes back on her. They were far too wet, and she could do nothing for herself. She stood naked before him, shivering, unable to speak. He would be able to see all of her, in every detail.

Harriet was now more vulnerable and exposed than she had ever been or felt in her entire life, and even more cold. She remembered enough to bring her arms up to hide her breasts from his glance, for all the good that would do, with her hands barely covering them.

At least that protective reflex still functioned. Life was about to end for her in a different way than she might have planned for herself in one of her more desperate moods.

Momentarily at a loss, he stepped up to her, put his arms around her again, drawing her close to him, and moved her dress to one side with his foot as he held her.

'Too late to be embarrassed now, Harriet. You have much more to worry about than being embarrassed or shy. It should not have got to this stage so soon, or at all.'

Harriet was still able to summon some mental resistance to what her mother was saying.

What are you talking about, Mother? If it had not got to this stage I could be dead of the cold. Perhaps I am dead, and this is only a dream. It feels like it, and you are worrying for nothing.

Not for nothing. He was holding her close. His intentions for her were obvious. She should have paid more attention to those warnings of her sister about putting herself into the control of any man, and letting things go as far as they had.

But why should she care what happened to her now, no matter what he did? She had considered much worse for herself.

She was now standing there in his wet arms but held close enough to him to feel his warmth, with his warm hands on her back, and lower, much lower, pulling her close, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She could imagine the thoughts going through his head about her, with her like this. Her own thoughts were disordered enough. Her life had surely ended or was about to, in one direction, if not another.

’You should have said something before now, Harriet, and stopped him’.

I couldn’t stop him, Mother! I didn’t know what he was doing until it was too late for me. Besides, I was too cold and stiff.

’Rubbish! You knew. I should wash my hands of you.’

He did nothing other than hold her close to him for the moment. He was also warmer than she was, despite being wet. He must have been walking briskly in that weather to be both warm and wet, but he was wet, like she was, and with wraiths of water vapor rising from his shirt at the shoulders. She could see that much when she opened her eyes.

He swore again; perhaps at her for putting him into this predicament or taking her to task for going out in this weather so lightly clad and getting wet. She wanted to protest everything he might be saying or could be assuming about her. It had not been raining when she had left, and she had been dressed as she always dressed for such a long and often strenuous walk. It was not her fault that the weather had gone against her, or that she had lost her resolve about not returning. It had gone against him too.

She felt him put a blanket about her shoulders—thank the lord for that protection and consideration at least—and then he guided her back, to sit upon another that he had placed on the cold marble slab she had been sitting on.

Where had he got them? She had not known of them. At least she was now covered, no matter how poorly, and could remove her arms from protecting her upper body from the violation of his eyes, and clutch the blanket close about herself. He ignored her after that and went about other things, but it would not stay that way for long.

After seeing to the fire and getting her dress and petticoat out of the way, he came back to her, took her by surprise again as he took the blanket from her shoulders, and used it to dry her back and some of her front, as well as across the top of her legs, and even between them as he firmly moved them apart. She could see that his eyes were open, seeing everything about her, especially her breasts. He was paying them more attention than he should have been, but of course he did. He was a man, and men had been overly attentive to her obvious breasts since she had been fifteen, no matter where she had been, or how much she had tried to hide them away. She had often complained to her mother that her breasts were too large, the n*****s much too firm and prominent (even more so now that she was cold), and difficult to hide away, and her areola too rosy, but her mother had just smiled at her.

‘You will not always think so, my dear. Under the right conditions they confer distinct advantages to a clever woman who can understand a man’s various moods and needs.’

She, would always think so. But there was nothing she could do to stop him. She began to wake up to the predicament she now faced. Somehow, fate had intended this for her. That is why they were both here, and with her the way she was.

She felt him hesitate for a few moments, and she looked up at him to see what had caused him to pause. He was looking at her breasts again, but then his glance rose, as he looked into her face with a question in his eyes. He took a breath and opened his mouth as though to say something but said nothing. He was looking at her as though he recognized her from somewhere.

She hoped not.

She did not know him. However, there was something about his eyes, and the shape of his face; something that triggered a distant memory. She had the feeling that she knew him from a hazy and indistinct past, but then she had spent other times up here in earlier years. They may have met at one of the small assemblies, years ago. They may also have been companions in some former life, and they had been brought together again for just this moment, to become reacquainted again. This must be what happened in that brief time between consciousness, and that other place of judgment. Yet the kind of re-acquaintance he probably had in mind was not what any respectable woman would want.

He must have re-considered what he had wanted to say, and continued to dry her. The moment had passed.

She was not sure what had caused him to pause. But nothing happening to her was real. Maybe she was still out on the fells, walking in the rain, and her mind was taking her into one of her worst dreams, being alone and vulnerably naked, with a man. Maybe he had been one of those who had leered at her in her low-cut dress as he had hovered over her hand, his disgraceful thoughts easily read upon his face. Never had her dream gone so far out of the way as to have any man undress her completely, so it may not be a dream at all.

We were always destined to die in the way we most feared to die. That was the reality. She could still be out walking on the fells, soaking wet, or lying in the heather, but her mind would not let her die without tormenting her like this. Fate was intervening to put her into this other illusion that would soon become a nightmare if she did not break out of it and return to reality.

Never, had she been caught in such an embarrassing and threatening situation. She not feel as distraught or as embarrassed as she was sure she should be. But if this was death, there was no reason to feel embarrassed. She should be embracing whatever fate had decided for her and get it over with faster; though the devil would never allow an easy or painless end without some torment. If there was such a thing as the devil. There were too many awkward things to consider, and questions she could not answer.

But this did not feel like hell, and he did not look like the devil she had been taught to fear. There was another part of her mind that told her that she must not give in to this fantasy but must fight; that life should not be abandoned without a struggle. However, she could not push him away or complain even, she was still so cold, but her mind was protesting.

For all the good that would do.

To her relief, he turned away from her once more, and began to fuss more with the fire. Warmth was their first priority along with getting dry, even for him. Where had the blankets been kept? She had known nothing of them. She was also sitting on one. Her legs were still wet and cold, so she pulled some of the blanket to cover them. She tried to make herself as small as she could as she debated how she could recover from all of this and get herself home before he realized how vulnerable she was. No. He already knew that.

Home! It would be a poor refuge from the rigors of the real world, though it would be much less dangerous for her than where she was now. He seemed to be ignoring her, thank goodness.

He began to pull the shutters across the openings around the belvedere.

He was doing that to keep the wind and wet out, and to trap some warmth. He was also trapping them where they were by that same act. But she could not escape anywhere without any clothes, except she did not want to escape. Part of her was curious about this man and what might happen with her now. It surprised her that she could feel like this.

She watched as he struggled with the shutters. He seemed to do everything methodically. He had started the fire before he had undressed her, and then had brought a blanket around her, with another to sit on. Then he had dried her and seen to the fire again. He knew what he was doing and what needed to be done. Possibly he was not really interested in her at all, other than to help her. She had seen a momentary interest in her, especially in her breasts when he had dried her, but then he had moved away again. She hoped he was not as interested in her as she had feared he would be.

Her n*****s were hard with cold, and her areolas were wrinkled, as she discovered when she pulled the blanket closer around her body and felt them. She was miserable, and every part of her body and breasts was peppered by goose bumps.

She had known of those shutters but had not thought to do anything about them. She had not planned on being here long enough to start a fire, even if she had known where the lucifers had been kept.

Fortunately, the wood that had been laid in the fire was dry, so the fire soon got a good grip and was now roaring away, sputtering sparks up into the air and spreading heat out to where she could begin to feel it for herself. She had courage to move the blanket from between her and the fire as she kept a close eye upon him.

She felt miserable, but there was now some obvious heat being thrown out by the fire. She clutched the blanket closer about her back and sat forward, opening the blanket up from her, and moving her legs apart so that she could get full benefit of the warmth where she needed it. To hell with modesty and being embarrassed; she needed warmth.

She was aware of where he was as she could see him most of the time. He was on the other side of the small building seeing to the shutters with his back turned to her, so would not see her. The warmth felt so good upon her body, and on the inside of her open legs. She would be able to get warm for a few moments at least, facing the fire with nothing between her and the flames. She could cover herself again and put her legs together when he finished what he was doing, and before he came back to her. The heat was more welcoming to her, and needed, than threat of his personal attention.

She had almost gone beyond the point of caring what he could see of her. He had already seen everything. Her body could now feel the heat beginning to radiate from the fire. Her back was covered and getting dry, though it was still cold. Her hair dripped down her back, until she moved it outside of the blanket. If she covered herself up, as she should, she would deny herself the benefit of that warmth.

In her present misery, she soon gave up all thought of him. She sat with her arms holding the blanket open, and sitting as no lady ever would, to get the most heat. She closed her eyes, dreaming of how wondrous it was to at last begin to feel warm again, opening her eyes every so often to be sure he was not looking at her. As long as she could hear him working, she was safe.

Windows up near the roof-line above her, admitted light enough to see as the shutters came together. She closed her eyes again and accepted the warmth. This man had saved her life but could as easily destroy it again.

She had not known how cold and stiff she had become, until now. Thank god he had come when he had, but what a mortifying predicament she was now trapped in. His intentions would be those of any man presented with such temptation so far away from anywhere. She could not even begin to put up any defense against him, she felt so weak.

Fanny had warned her what would happen to her. Yes, what could happen to her at the hands of a man; of this man? Harriet could not be sure that he was a gentleman, though he dressed like one, and he spoke like one from what she remembered of his words. And he had not been shy to do what he had done with her, but had been decisive in overriding any objection she might have raised. Except she had raised none. She should have objected to him touching her as he had on her thigh, then undressing her.

He had apologized when he had been undressing her as he had talked, but there had been nothing he could do different by the time he discovered that she was naked before he expected it. Her clothing was too wet to replace, and it had been much easier to take everything off than it would have been to put back on. It would need to be dried out before she could get dressed again. She would be stuck here with him for at least two or three hours, maybe more.

Too long. Far too long.

She tried not to dwell upon her circumstance, or what could happen to her during that time.