The Edge

The next day was the same feeling, like a hand was closing around me and I had to run to escape the clutching fingers. I couldn't wait to get up, I rose before Michael and slipped into my dressing room. I ran a bath full of hot water and got into it, scrubbing myself while my skin turned lobster red with the heat. Then I let much of the water drain out and poured in cold, ice cold, so that my entire body was submerged in frozen water, it felt colder than ever because of the difference between the boiling hot of moments before. It felt good to me, calming, purifying. I felt as if I could breathe. I poured pitcher after pitcher of cold water over my head and revelled in its weight and smooth falling texture. Once I heard the door open and through my wall of water I saw Michael's blurred head and shoulders looking in at me but he went away almost immediately. Then I continued pouring.

I dressed in a gown of deep green, like a forest, and instead of plaiting my hair as usual I brushed it and brushed it until it was almost dry then let it curl loose down my back like an ebony river. Michael had gone when I came out but the house was still just awakening. I went straight up to the fourth floor.

Elizabeth was waiting for me as I had known she would be. Her little half smile, it spoke to me and only me. Get on with your task, she seemed to say, you must finish what I could not. I took out my brushes, newly arrived from town, and began to carefully paint the wall paper for her bedroom. The day was fully dawning and still I kept at it. Anna came in and asked me if I wanted any breakfast but I told her to just bring me some tea and kept working. Anna brought it and then sat with me, in a corner, bewildered but wanting to be of use so I set her to sewing up little cushions for the sofas. Stephen Bruce entered and bid me good morning. He sat down to carving and I asked if he could start on the bed for Elizabeth's room today. He looked at me a little oddly and said that he could not do so until the new supply of wood came, none he had would carve well enough. At that moment Mrs Levin entered and asked me to step downstairs, there were some parcels for me. I told Anna to follow and went to fetch them.

We brought them to my bed chamber and opened them. The first contained some stuffed animals for James. An elephant, a tiger, a horse and even a zebra were there, I knew he would adore them so told Anna to let his nurse know I would attend him after his lunchtime nap. The second had some new paint supplies for me, bolder and more expensive colours for the doll's house because I had developed a passion for indigo and jade and deep pink. The third contained three bottles of scent with a letter from the perfumer.

He said that he could not chose between three different types as each one was best worn at different times of day. He therefore had sent me his three favourites and hoped they would please me. The first bottle contained English Roses and had the wonderfully familiar scent of a summer garden. The second was of Turkish Roses and had a deeper scent, more earthy but fantastical bold. The man recommended the first as being an all purpose day fragrance, the second was much more for evening. The third bottle was a rarity, an especial passion of his but truly decadent and difficult to acquire. It was called Winter Roses and he described it thus.

“This is by far my favourite of all the rose perfumes. As I have explained, there are over 80 species of Roses currently known and it is my personal belief that many more exist because this is a hardy type of plant, able to grow in many different continents and flowers the longest of any other flower. This particular variety is from the Americas and is found in only a few locations of the coast of that island known as Newfoundland. The flowers of this hardy bloom are white as the driven snow, the stalk of a dark green with large thorns. It is a small budding flower which only fully opens just before it wilts. It normally sits with its petals half shut and looks quite innocent. However it has a strong and heady fragrance. I would liken it to the sent of rose mixed with wind and snow and salt spray from the sea. Thus the sweetness of the flower is mixed with the sharp tang of exotic climes by few English people ever seen.”

I opened the bottle and the scent filled the room. It was the strongest of the three yet it was not over powering. It was sweet but with a sharp almost citrus note in it. It was like dark amber and vivid lemon mixed with the flowers. I could almost see the coastline of that far away land. I could smell the sea and the sky. It was heavenly! I touched this fragrance to my ears and neck, my bosom and wrists. I had Anna place the other bottles on my dressing table, they were lovely but this was my favourite. I wrote quick letter to the gentleman, thanking him for his efforts and arranging for a larger bottle of the Winter Roses to be sent me. Then I returned upstairs after asking Anna to attend to some of my wardrobe, I wanted some of my frocks taken in. In fact, I wanted some time to myself.

I did not go right back to the craft room. I had an idea and I wanted ample time to myself to discover what I needed. I went in to Elizabeth's bedroom. The beautiful colours enveloped me, I felt safe and loved and welcome in that room.

I went to the dresser and examined the contents. The first drawer held gloves and shawls. Some of these were truly delicate work and I deduced she had sewn them herself. I laid one of these, knitted in a soft cream, to one side. The second drawer seemed to hold her under things, she apparently had disliked corsets and these were done in lace or softest cotton, the boning on them was not too harsh. I lifted them out, they would fit me well. I realised we must have been of a similar size. The bottom drawer contained stockings and petticoats.

I turned my attention to the wardrobe. Inside were many many dresses, mostly of white. These were close fitting around the bodice and high at the neck but the lines were so feminine and the simple embroidery so beautiful that the gowns were lovely. Some of the gowns were night dresses, in simple cotton or silk, trimmed with lace. And at the end were the evening dresses, in darkest black, green, smoky blue and at the end, red. I took out the red dress. It was the very same as she had worn in the portrait! It was cut low at the neck, dipping to show the pure white skin below her throat. It was cut tight about her body and then, supported by petticoats, would fall in a bustle behind her and around her, to the floor. It was made from rich dark red silk.

I did not hesitate. I undressed and put on one of Elizabeth's petticoats. Then I slipped on the dress. It buttoned up tightly, she had been slightly smaller in the waist that I, but it fitted. When I looked in the mirror I did not know myself. My skin glowed from the colour of the silk, the dress was heavy on my form. The hair curled to my waist, my eyes showed dark and excited.

I called to Stephen and he came through. I arranged myself in the window seat, standing, and when he walked in he simply gazed at me, speechless. Then he walked towards me, his arms outstretched. I went to him and drew his face to mine and kissed him long and hard. Lasciviously, as if he were the woman, and I the man. I pushed him down into the window seat and asked him what he thought of me. He licked his lips and had to clear his throat before he could answer.

“You look even more beautiful than the original wearer. I had thought you perfectly dressed but this colour, it suits you as if you were born to wear no other colour.”

I pulled up the skirt of the dress and showed him that I wore no small clothes. I enjoyed his reaction to looking at me. The eroticism of being fully clothed but showing him my privates was so thrilling that I felt myself begin to tingle down there. With one hand holding up the skirt, I lifted one of my legs, resting the foot on the seat beside Stephen, so that he could see more and with my free hand I put my fingers to myself. I had never done such a thing before but I knew what I should do and rubbed at myself until I felt my cunt grown wet. One finger rose and I gently rubbed at the little bud of my clitoris and gasped as the feeling intensified ten fold.

Stephen drew me to him and put his lips to mine. I grasped his hair as he licked me there, unable to stop myself from moaning aloud. My hips were rotating all by themselves, I felt swollen and open to him. He began to thrust his tongue into me with wide strokes so that I was panting with desire and that wave I had climbed before began to rise in front of me. As it swept over me, I could not even breathe, the wonder of his touch was my entire world. Then as my legs gave way, he pulled me down onto his lap and entered me, his cock already erect and ready.

I began to ride him with a fierceness I had not known I possessed, making him bury his face in my breasts, the plump tops exposed to him by the tight bodice. He came quickly in the succulent confines of my delighted body, giving me a hard bite on the left breast. Then he laughed with joy and kissed my neck, my face, my ears, finally stopping by pushing me off him and buckling himself back up. He told me I was tempting him too far with my beauty! He launched himself at me and tickled me until I could not breathe for laughing.

I needed to change, this dress was rather too tight and I could hardly wear it around the house. As I changed, Stephen hung it back up then assisted me to do up the fastenings on my own clothing. We left and locked the room, moving back to our places at the work bench. I brought the shawl though I was not cold, my face was flushed and my cheeks pink which he said set off the green of my gown. As we began work again I looked at Elizabeth's portrait. It seemed to me as if we now shared a secret and I smiled back at her. Stephen sat close by me as we worked and asked me what made me so different today. I had quite a new air, he had never seen anything like it. I simply smiled and told him I had a plan to make all right. And I did.

No matter if my husband wanted me at night, at all other times I could chose for myself. And I chose Stephen. I had formed a rather wicked plan. If another child was to be conceived before the spring, it would not come from the loins of my husband but from my lover. When our affair ended and he went back to London I was determined to keep a piece of him with me forever.