Chapter Text
Eliza held William's injured hand gently between her palms, on the pretext to examine its state. However, she found herself staring mindlessly across the room into space. She was unused to the contentment resting inside her in this moment. Out of the corner of her eye, she observed William raise and lower the whisky tumbler with his free hand.
They'd enjoyed a lovely dinner together at Gilbert's, taking a long stroll back to her home. She invited him in, unsure he would agree as they were currently in a winning streak for "longest period without an argument." She was surprised he accepted her invitation to a nightcap so easily.
They now sat comfortably beside each other on one of the sofas in her drawing room. The room glowed from the well-stoked fireplace, causing flickering shadows to dance across Eliza's features as he watched her expression.
"What are you thinking about, Eliza?" he asked softly.
Stirring from the broken silence, Eliza shifted her gaze to the hands in her lap. She wasn't even certain what was going through her mind. Gathering up courage to say something, she began wordlessly tracing a finger over the bruises that poked out from under the dressing.
"Eliza?"
"Hm?" She finally looked at up him. The lightest of smiles pulled at the corners of his mouth, puzzlement filling his eyes.
For the very first time in her life, Eliza felt shy sitting beside William. The blossoming affection between them was painfully obvious, but she had mixed feelings. William was her dearest and oldest friend besides Ivy. As much as she wanted to simply give in to his unasked questions about their relationship, she felt herself holding back. She would openly admit it was to protect her career and their friendship, but a part of her was afraid that maybe this was a joke on William's part, that maybe he didn't return her affections. Or worse, that his affection was equal to hers but he would demand her surrender, clipping her proverbial wings and locking her in a songbird's cage.
She began to blush, fishing for any reply that wouldn't voice her fears. Feeling the weight of his hand in hers, she jumped awkwardly at the first thought that ran through her mind.
She finally mumbled, "I was... contemplating the... miracle... of the... human hand?"
"Erm... what?" He was completely stumped by her statement. Unfortunately, so was Eliza.
"The miracle... of the human hand?" she tried again, her blush deepening. Was she actually nervous? And... flirting??
"I really don't follow you, Eliza."
Sitting up and turning to face William, she grabbed his other hand, holding both his palms up in her own.
"Consider the number of impossible things the hand can do," she stumbled, raising his non-injured hand. She almost gulped, wondering if he could sense the growing heat from her palm. "When the hand is well and fully-functional, one can, with little effort, hold any number of objects from a pen to... an egg... a book... and more, for instance pushing a chair... opening a door..."
Eliza had randomly glanced across the room as she lamely name objects. She missed William's eyebrows rising higher up his forehead, an amused gleam settling in his eyes as he read her discomfort.
When had she decided to flirting? William felt some nerves, too, but he definitely had more practice. His apprehension was more of a "what if her dead father comes back to haunt me for courting his daughter?"
"Even another hand... like it's sibling," Eliza continued, lifting his injured hand, "or another person's hand."
"Yes, you're right," he conceded, grin widening as he suppressed the urge to laugh.
"Indeed," she trailed, her gaze returning to his hands. She felt hollow encouragement that he was following her ramble. "Yet with the slightest of injuries, one can lose some to all of its functionality, like writing or... playing an instrument... or..."
"Holding an egg?" he supplied. His voice nearly cracked on the last syllable, stifling his laughter.
Eliza finally looked up into his face, mirth overflowing from his barely suppressed smile.
"Ugh, William," she groaned, releasing his hands to cover her face in embarrassment as she rested elbows on her knees. "I'm so sorry you had to hear that."
He couldn't help laughing openly at her expense. What he could see of her face was glowing bright red.
"I know I'm the one that tends to drown in their cups, but how much wine did you have at dinner?" he teased.
"No more than two glasses," she admitted through her hands.
"Hey," he spoke softly with a grin, pulling her hands away.
Eliza's cheeks still glowed a brilliant pink as she avoided his face, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing herself.
"Don't be embarrassed, and don't be nervous either," he soothed. "We're still friends and I'm high certain that won't change any time soon, no matter what words get thrown between us."
She looked up at him, the blush fading from her cheeks. Perhaps it was the sudden release of tension, but she felt a welcoming warmth to hear the deep rumble from his chest as he chuckled softly again.
"The human hand?" she giggled self-deprecatingly.
They both burst into laughter at her failed attempt to flirt with William.
Eliza felt much calmer and found herself staring into his dark eyes. She had come to know their shape and color well over the last ten years. The lighting always made them dance between blue and gray. Although here in this moment, the two of them enjoying each other's company on a quiet evening by the fire, she found a deeper, more tender warmth to their depths.
"So," William began softly, encouraged that Eliza had not and was not likely to breath their eye contact. "You are right that the human hand is full of an untold wealth of miracles."
Eliza giggled again. "Please, William-"
"No, no. It'll work." He shifted himself on the sofa to face her better. "Consider how the human hand is an extension of the arm. Not just in strength, like wielding an ax to chop wood, or a gun in self-defense. Consider some of the creative implications: with grace, one may hold and steer a dancing partner twirling around a ballroom. A musician makes animate an otherwise lifeless object, creating such sound as to bring joy or tears to the listener. And the artist works such perfection in any medium as to bring life to an empty canvas or shapeless stone."
He paused briefly observing Eliza. She vaguely acknowledged him with a nod, no longer holding back laughter as she seemed to lose herself in his gaze. He enjoyed the growing intensity pouring from her blue-green stare.
"Now," he continued, his voice lower and growing huskier, "what is even more a miracle is how, injured or missing any variable of that extension, the mind can still create such beauty and strength through sheer determination. And one doesn't have to be a fine artist to realize this full potential of the human hand. For instance, there is not a single ounce of artistry in this man's body, yet I know there is still beauty to be achieved when using the full extension of the arm, hand, and fingers."
Unknowingly only to herself, Eliza began leaning a little closer to William.
"To begin, I can extend this arm," he lifted his arm and let it drape across the back of the sofa, close to Eliza's shoulders. "And here I find a place of comfort for the body to rest. If I wanted to include the hand," the same hand then traveled forward to rest on Eliza's far shoulder, his voice lowering, "here we have the warm touch of a human embrace."
They were both leaning closer to each other now, his voice lowering to a whisper.
"Then with the final addition of the fingers," his voice became husky as he lifted his free hand, his thumb and forefinger tilting Eliza's chin up toward his face, "a moment is created of intimacy."
His thumb gently began gently rubbing along Eliza's cheek. The silence between them shimmered with anticipation, warm breath whispering for the other to yield.
"You rogue," Eliza whispered with a smirk.
She wanted to glare at him for having so soundly drawn her into his hold. She wanted to laugh at his speech because of her abysmal floundering for conversation. More than anything, she didn't want him to stop.
"May I kiss you?" he finally whispered.
She nodded slowly and felt his embrace tighten her shoulders in response.
William tenderly closed the gap between them as Eliza closed her eyes. Soft lips met her own, her chin and cheeks tickled by the accompanying beard. Unused to such contact, she simply received the question he put to her, their lips dancing slowly, delicately against each other.
Her senses catching up with the moment, Eliza quickly raised her hands and placed them firmly on William's waistcoat, pushing him away. Their brief embrace came to a halt.
"I'm sorry, Eliza," William blurted, "I thought-"
"No, William, I'm sorry, that was my fault."
"What are you talking about?"
"It struck me, is all. I thought about what we were doing, the scandal this would create. Us sitting here unchaperoned in my drawing room, kissing. Out reputations could be called into question, what this could do to our friendship-"
"Eliza," William broke off her spiraling thoughts. "Our friendship will be alright."
She looked at him questioningly.
"What I need to know is if you want to stop?" he asked her, voice still low.
"No."
"Good."
With both hands, he cupped either side of her face, pressing into her lips more firmly than before. Her hands rested against him, one on his shoulder, the other comfortably at his waist.
Their lips danced together as before. The hand on William's shoulder journeyed to the back of his head, lightly massaging through his thick hair. The firm touch of his lips became more urgent as she felt him begin suckling at her lips, requesting access. With a daring reply, she caught one of his lips between hers and grazed it with the tip of her tongue.
To her delight, this elicited a soft moan from the deep chest, echoing into her own. She smiled into their touch, allowing him access to her mouth. Not wanting to be out down by her audacity, he nipped lightly at her, drawing her out.
They were pressed firmly against each other, William's hand now cradling the back of Eliza's head. A finger grazed across the base of her neck, causing her to shudder with a soft moan. He found such pleasure in that sound and hoped to hear more elicited from his touch.
Gasping for air, their faces broke apart, Eliza whispering William's name. Their eyes still closed, his mouth traced kisses from the tip of her chin, along her jawline, and to the soft spot of her neck below her ear. She felt herself thrill with the sensations. His lips played softly under her ear.
"William," she whispered again, drawing his attention.
They gazed at each other a moment before their lips crashed together even more fervently than before. Eliza wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing him complete access to her hungry mouth. His arms had wrapped around her waist, practically pulling her into his lap.
Lips sparred, tongues danced. All sense of time and the outside world had faded to black long ago.
After several minutes, William's hand made its way back to Eliza's cheek, his lips slowing this movement until the final chord of the unheard music released into the silence. Eyes closed, this foreheads pressed together. The unseen dancers in their heads promenaded to a bow, the painters unveiling rich landscapes of color and human emotion.
"Thank you, Eliza," William finally whispered to the silence.
"Whatever for?"
"You."
Both sat up from their seats, finally looking into the other's face. William lifted one of her hands and graced her knuckles with a chaste kiss. Still flush with emotion, Eliza could only smile back.
"Perhaps I should go," he offered with disappointment. "Wouldn't want to get walloped by Ivy if she thought I was being indecorous."
Eliza laughed softly. "Yes, or I'll be scolded into oblivion."
In a comfortable, contented silence they stood from the sofa, checking to see that garments and hair were not too ruffled for public viewing. Confidently, Eliza grabbed William's uninjured hand as she walked past him, leading him through the doors of the drawing room and out to the hall. She let go when they reached her door.
William pulled on his coat and shrugged into his long overcoat. Eliza picked up his bowler hat from its hook and held it out for him. As he pulled the hat from her, he leaned down and placed one more chaste kiss on her cheek.
"I'll call on you tomorrow," he declared softly. "Goodnight, Eliza."
Her warmest smile filled him with happiness as she opened the front door behind her.
"I look forward to it. Goodnight, William."
They gazed sweetly at each other one last time before he passed her the doorway.