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Edith knew nothing but the loss. Her days turned blurry in the rooms of the estate, even when she tried to leave for a promenade or read from James’ library. She could not. Every step echoing sounded like his. His hunting boots are dirtying the carpet. It always ended up being one of the servants.
The only company she found in the estate as anyone else she saw, would be the farmers coming to pass the gates. Waving to her husband’s servants, before continuing down the road to the market. The winter had time to turn to spring, and the bird’s freshly cracked babies chipped by the window as Percy took in a new servant to replace Martha. An elderly woman whose knee had turned its back on her. She had tied Edith’s corset loosely one last time before returning to her husband's farm down the road.
The new maid was to Edith's liking. Henriette Eriksson, a merchant daughter, came to the household with far many skills. She contributed to the kitchen, dressed Edith, bathed her, aided the stable boy, Harry with the horses.
Percy had chosen wisely, without consulting her, but she did not mind it at all. Though she knew it was only temporary as the maiden’s contract would only last until the next spring. It brightened her day, as Henriette would bring books from the library that Edith may find to be liking. In all honesty, she struggled to keep up, but Henriette would read. Sitting neatly at a footstool while Edith would share a cuppa and enjoy the company. While looking out the meadows where boys would play war with sticks.
As the maiden read, drew out the story with her soft voice. Commenting in brief, in between sections on the men’s irrationality and stupidity. Edith would only smile, wandering over the painting of what would be her maid by the window. In the light of a dawn upon rising. Soothing the lonely nights, she gathered after her loss.
Her eyes wandered likewise her mind watching the maid’s lips move as she read. The words formed her lips into circles and triangles. Edith felt fond of her, this new maiden, a new chapter in the Estate’s chapters held up her excitement all more after such a depressive period over the last few moons. Mulling over everything, Henriette was a fresh new unity that held no longing with the old repeated conversation of weather or farmer’s gossip.
“How come you read, Henriette?” She asked, breaking the reading session as she poured her and herself more tea. Tipping in a sugarcub into Henriette’s.
“My father was a merchant?”
“Yes, you have told me so. But if that was the only reason then we would see many merchant daughters reading. But the harbour is empty.” She explained. “And you speak three languages with little to no accent.”
Henriette gave a shy smile, not too proud. “My father wanted me to learn. That is all.”
“What a peculiar man.” Edith smiled back,
The maid’s father was not the only peculiar thing in the world. Somehow Edith became glad of the absence of society. As the outside eyes peered through the window of her life, of the estate. Instead she could spend the days bothering the maid.
Henriette loosened the buttons on her lady’s dress. “Do you find your library quite to be content?” She asked one summer evening.
“Hm? Oh, yes… Uhm quite.” She answered, listening to the other staff’s footsteps pass by outside in the corridor.
“Are there any books you would wish to receive for your collection, my lady?”
“It is my husband’s collection, really.” She replied, pulling pins out of her hair, watching the red flames spread over her shoulders in the mirror.
“Does not mean you are not permitted to expand it yourself, my lady.” Henriette pulled her overdress from her body, revealing a white underdress.
“I would not know where to start if I even wished for…” Edith heard no footsteps of the other staff as midnight rolled around.
“If you allow, I can leave some suggestions on your desk in the coming fortnight.”
She watched her maid through the mirror. “Henriette?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Do you enjoy this?” Edith asked, flipping the conversation.
“What is it you mean?”
“I mean…” She turned to face her, ignoring the corset that still sat loosened on her skin. “I.. I would like to consider you a friend. And I would wish for you to not continue forth to America.”
“That is quite an odd wish, My lady.” She smiled at Edith, showing the small rows of teeth. “But I suppose it's not unusual. You must remember I am not of your court, nor of your nobility status. As for America I am still hesitant to make the journey. I find Britain to be quite… enjoyable.”
Edith nodded and watched Henriette looking at her. The white headscarf let loose strands of the short bangs that framed her face. She was beautiful like spring flowers. Edith always thought spring flowers were always more beautiful after a harsh winter. Her lips, the same pink like early pink Tulips that had yet truly gotten their chance to grow.
“Is it improper that I wish for my lips to touch yours?” Edith touched her cheek, stroking her cheek before pulling the scarf off her hair. As she gasps at the sight of her hair barely even reaching her jaw.
She watched Edith’s eyes drift over her hair, ignoring the shock. “Nothing may be seen as odd during your mourning period, My lady.”
“Edith.”
“Edith.” She corrected her. “There is no such thing as odd as two lassies kissing… Merely a friendly companionship. Edith. Especially during these hardships of the loss of your late husband.”
She swallows before admitting. “It does not feel like a loss.”
Henriette tilted her head.
“I mean… I know that he is gone– But it feels more as if he has left for a long journey. I find myself waiting. My heart does not seem to have left his grip just yet. I do not believe I can love another–”
“This does not need to be about love.” The maid said.
“But would it not be a sin if it was not?”
“I’ll be honest, Men’s punishment of companionships such as these are much harsher than God’s.” Henriette whispered, her breath hit Edith’s lips. The gentle fragrance creased her smell. “Besides I believe God is forgiving and understanding. We do not harm anyone, merely aiding you through this hardship.”
“Are you certain?”
Henriette nodded. “It can stay between us, lady to lassy.”
Thoughtfully, Edith frowned.
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“Will you always distract me from my duties?” Hen said as she laughed on a warm spring day in May. Edith pulled her out of her kitchen duties and onto the yard as she paced up with her companion.
“Walk with me.” She smiled back at her. Having changed from the floral dresses that she could wear in the peace of her own rooms to a much darker colour, mirroring the period of which she still was in. It was improper, the promenade but the countryside gave her the freedom to do as she pleased, and took upon the path into the forest.
“You must know Percy will have my head on your silver plate for following you.” Henriette chuckled, hooking her arm around Edith’s.
“I asked him to release you of your duties for the day.”
She reached up to peck Edith’s cheek. “Of course you did, My lady.”
“I told you that there is no need for formalities.” She stuttered, looking directly forward. They advertised from the main road that led down to the village. And passed oak trees that had been planted by James’ family centuries prior.
The leaves clothed the little light which shimmered through the grey skies. She ignored the mud that clinged onto her hem of the skirt, while Hen found no issues in stepping through the wet path. Her skirts modestly above her ankles to make it easier for her to pass around.
“Where is your family from?” She asked after they both jumped wearily over a gathering of water that would most likely soak their boots.
Hen grasped her arm to steady her. “Outside of Dartmouth. My father was a merchant.”
“And before then? You said you spoke Plattdeutsch.”
She guided her around another pool of mud as they approached the lake. “My father was from somewhere near Hamburg but I have never visited.”
“Would you like to?” She asked, loosing the hooks of their arms and lowering and intervening their fingers instead.
Her shoulders shrugged. “What would I do there?” Hen watched the lake approach in front of them and the swan who peacefully glided over the water, meeting their partner in the middle before going together west down the lake.
“See what it is like?” She suggested, knowing of her old uncaring nature that would most likely not interest her at all.
“I don’t really see how that would benefit me.”
“Hmm.”
“Where are we walking anyhow?”
“Just a stroll around the lake.” She explained leaning her upper arm against Hen’s as they walked close together. Hen turned to her and asked, looking at the fabric. “Is the veil not hot in this weather?”
“Yes but it would be improper of me not to wear one– Henriette?” Edith broke her own sentence off as she took the courage.
“Hm?” Her companion was looking at the treeline, observing some animals which bickered with one another. -
“I have thought over what you said.”
She looks away from the birds to her. Her auburn eyes drifted over the features that shadowed in the veil. “I then assume you have come to a decision?”
“I am still quite unsure of what you meant– What would our relationship be exactly?” She asked.
“It can be anything you desire, My lady?” Hen shrugged, squeezing her hand twice, and the heat spread from her fingers.
“I said for you not to–” “What would you wish it to be?”
Edith paused. “Uhm…”
“Anything in the world.” She tilted her head.
“You mean like a marriage?”
“If you would like us to be that.” She nodded. “Of course we would not be able to consummate it in the same way and we would not be recognised as that. But if you wish to pretend—” “Yes.”
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Edith knew a lady’s autonomy would be different than a man’s. Her own body was. Though the touch of Hen’s curves did not equate to a man’s, the warmth circulating her heart, a familiarity to James. Though it all was different when Hen leaned down and kissed her. Though the whole world had to know about her marriage to James, with Hen it was just Hen. Just Hen and Edith. Just Lady to Lassy,
Her lips brushed against hers before they pulled away and Hen could take off Edith’s dress, revealing her undergarments and corset. She laughed at how hastily Hen pulled at the lace trying to get her out of the corset even faster than she did the other evenings for the last few moons.
While Edith stripped her off the scarf which hid her tuberculosis hair. Looking at the unusualness of the hair on her neck, instead a gentle wave stopped by her jaw. Finally she asked, after so many nights after that first. “Who humiliated your luscious hair?”
“I did.” Hen’s lips brushed hers. The breath of Edith’s further questioning hit her cheek like a sigh. “Why?”
“It has its benefits.” She smiled back, “It is a fact that you are enjoying the sight of it.”
“I never said such a thing.”
“No but you thought of it.” Hen kissed her again, leaning over her and pressed herself against Edith’s hips. And she reached out to steady her, making sure she doesn’t lean over too far. Her hands stayed there, on Hen’s waist. She did not know where to settle them, afraid to know. With James, he did all this.
With Hen, she owned a new freedom that she had no prior knowledge of. With men, her ladyships would whisper and giggle amongst themselves of the event behind the closed doors of marriage. But this was not marriage, but this was not not similar to it. Hen’s lips pressed upon hers. Her tongue meeting hers. Her hips against hers.
Her. Her. Her.
Edith pulled away, breaking her tongue away from Hen’s mouth. “You wouldn’t supposedly know how… how we… Is this even possible?”
“This?” Hen laughed.
She took a shaky breath. “Well we do not contain the… male parts to…”
“We do not need to.” She pecked her lips gently. “Did he— Has no one ever kissed you somewhere else?”
“Somewhere else?” Edith asked. “Where else would we kiss but lips to lips?”
“Lift your skirt.” She whispered, kissing her lips again.
“What?”
“Lift your skirt.” She repeated, pulling the fabric above Edith’s knees and further, her hands grasping underneath her knees. Edith laid down totally, as that to her knowledge was the way.
“You are certain you have the knowledge to…” She started to ask but Henriette hushed her by pulling her undergarment off which reached her knees down. “I can do what most men cannot even, do not undermine my knowledge Edith.” Hen smiled down at her, leaning back on her feet as she kneeled.
“All right.” She swallowed, placing her head upon the fluffed up cushions. Hen sliding her hands over the softness of her birthing hips.
“Why the presence of this nervousness? I can assure you there will be no rashes of my existing beard.” Hen teased.
Edith said quieter now, glancing down at her companion. “The uneasiness will ease.” She smiled over to Hen. “It is new, that is all.”
Who grinned back towards her, lowering herself, her nose brushing the corset as she set sail southwards. Her thumb stroked in circles as they found Edith’s knees, gripping them firmly and hooking her hands around them. She watched as her companion’s lips graced the soft tissue above her knees, and placed that leg over her shoulder. Her spine sent shockwaves of shivers through her wholly.
Eyes drifting to brush each other, as Edith watched her lips lace itself over her inner thigh, kissing the irritated hue from her thighs rubbing together, ignoring the stinging as the softness of Hen’s lips felt like silk, the touch lingering in delicacy over her body, drying Edith’s mouth out as she reached further.
Hen reached over, meeting Edith’s lips and the thought that occurred was the freshness of cherry when you just took the bite. The wetness of something sweet and bitter in the august warmth. “Ease your shoulders, I am not here to kiss a plank.” Edith laughed at the murmur against her lips.
“The feeling of your lips is heartsome to mine.” She said back, inhaling deeply and laying down to make herself relax and Hen following with; thighs pressing against each other and the gentle tune of their game lulled Edith to ease. The circle around Edith’s lips which were always wet with James stayed clean and instead of an overwhelming sensation of harshness, the companions took it slower.
“Loosen up, you’re alright.” Hen whispered against her lips.
Edith nodded, wrapping her arm around her neck, pulling her down. They met in the middle, chasing the taste of their embrace and kiss. Hen’s chapped lips scraped hers in a gentle sense reminding her of the reality. Her lips; Her everything warmed the very bed they laid against.
Hen’s hand found hers as she broke the kiss. “All you have to do is trust me.” She smiled gently, her short hair spread out as it hung from her neck.
Edith swallowed but nodded, letting go of her shoulders watching her. As she started to sail south downwards, kissing the fabric of her Chimases. She shivered at the feeling of Hen’s lips touching her stomach.
The fabric revealed her bareness to Hen and she wrapped an arm around Edith’s leg. She couldn’t help but stare at her. As she kissed upwards she shivered the kisses on her legs. Edith inhaled deeply, attempting to ease the tension she felt in her body as she reminded herself of it only being her companion. Before she watched, Hen's lips met the sinful wetness of Edith’s core.
She started to carve with her tongue in ways she could not explain. Her hips arched, pleading for the mess. For something more. A hunger as the heat spreads through her shaking legs. The humid breath of her panting hit the backside of her hand as she tensed in the pleasure.
Hen wrapped her arms around Edith’s legs, hooking their bodies together in a spinning lift like those acrobats in seasonal balls. The intimacy of those dances, she understood the scandals that came along with them. As she felt the hotness of Hen’s hunger devouring her soul, in the most pleasurable of ways. Was this the way the devil corrupted young women? Then she would have been the easiest of targets.
“Oh–” Her mouth formed circles as the room spun in their waltz. As her companion inserted a finger, it felt tight like sticking a finger into something with a tight opening up with a wider volume inside. James had done the same, easing her up but for some reason the kissing of Hen’s lips against her southern parts eased and her shoulders relaxed as she laid down fully.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Hen asked pulling away and Edith mourned those lips would continue their carvation. To send her closer to salvation.
“Yes.”
Hen smiled as she curled her fingers and Edith grimaced. “Does it hurt?” She asked.
“It’s just quite a lot.” Edith mumbled, nudging her nose against her jaw when Hen leaned forward to invade her space. “How many fingers have you…”
“It’s only one.” She continued to pulse in and out.
Edith pulled away to look at her companion.“Really?” Which Hen only smiled right back at and nodded. Grazing her thumb over the slid openings and around the pearl. Her lips parted in a silent gasp at the feeling, pressing her head back against the pillows. “Hen…”
She mumbled in between the pants.
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Edith felt easier. The weight of the reality lifted as she shared a companionship with Hen. She scrunched her nose, mirroring any retortion Hen had against Byron, or Shelley’s work. Edith replaced her smile with laughter when she would jump up to stand on the soft cushions of the bed, grasping air with one arm as she recited Shakespeare for her. To her.
While the summer’s dawn fell through the window, sneaking through their comfort, confronting the secrets the nights hold.
“And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself and curse my fate,” She felt the mattress move as Hen fell on top of her. “I savor you in moments such as this.” She whispered, breaking her recitation of the Sonnet Twenty-Nine when she realised her lisener had turned a blind ear.
“Such as what?”
Hen only smiled back.
“Such as what?” She tried to push Hen off while laughing.
She gave in as she looked at Edith, having not moved from laying on top of her. “Without all the proper ladiness. Almost forgetting what status you derive from.”
“You do not need to put much thought into that, I do not care that you are a maid, Hen.” Edith said.
“Yes– I suppose, But—”
“Hen, eternally you will always be my equal.” She said, “I mean it there will be no–”
A knock interrupted her, and Hen rolled off Edith to hide underneath the bed. “Yes?”
“You have received a letter, my lady.” Percy opened the door to deliver it. He did not question why she laid in yesterday’s gown on the bed’s sheet with a copy of Shakespeare.
“Thank you, Percy.” She smiled quietly. As she took the letter, she stroked the sigil over with her thumb. Sensing the engraving on it, a duck with its wings outstretched. Edith imagined the shot of which a hunter would fire towards it, clawing towards the skies. Of course, anyone in her circle had husbands who shot ducks. But only one house used it as a sigil. Featherlights. The current Count Harald Featherlight. James’ cousin.
Edith broke the vax, with her nails.
Dear Lady —
She formed the words in a silent mumble as she read through the formalities. The letter finding you, regarding the heritage of the Elseworth Estate. Which will fall into the Featherlights hands as the inability of your marriage of–
The Rose tinted lips slowly turned to the normal colour as she sucked the lipstick up. “Percy?”
“Yes, My lady.”
“We will have to prepare for the Autumn Gathering.” She said,
“Right away.” Percy said as he left the room.
Hen crawled out of the space to come out, standing up and looking at her. “What does it say?” She asks, jumping back beside her.
Edith drained the evening tea cup which had turned cold and bland on the night stand.The bitterness left a thirst in the back of her throat.
“Count Featherlight will be inheriting the Estate.” She said, “Everything will be finalised in November.” The jarring call of the Estate would fall into another man’s hands. It was not hers to begin with. Of course, she knew that but in the spit of it all; Her heart was innocent to it all. There would be a resolution.
“This must not be the end.” Edith said. “Count Featherlight will understand. He has his own land and duties over in west, he will not–”
“You have no knowledge of these matters.”
She looked down at her tea. “We can find a way–” “You must remarry.” Hen insisted.
“What?”
“Marry Count Featherlight. Then you can keep the estate and will never–”
“Do not be stupid. He is near deathbed with only stepping down the staircase. I will be a widow before the next summer ball–”
“But you can keep the estate. You must.”
“There will be another path.” She argued. “For us.”
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The carriages of the night's guests passed the meadow of high grass Edith laid in, soaking her back with the mud. It had rained that day, much earlier even before she passed through the front door to bother Hen behind the kitchen. Her presence at Autumn Gathering did not appear to be long before she gathered all of her skirts and excused herself through the side door.
The November warmth was unfamiliar as all she knew was the November of cold, dark, freezing the meat of your bones, and slowing your heartbeat. This was just wet, the soakiness drove a new coldness to her. One she imagined hell felt when one passed the fires of the first floors.
This coldness did not numb fingers, instead heat one's bones and warmed one's heart like a warm bonfire in late April. It was consistent as the smoke from the kitchen behind the fence rose as dinner was served without her. Children raced each other to the edge and had yet to notice her body spread out with featherless wings and the full moon across the meadow lit up her body. Enough for her to feel just enough wanted. A call to dance in the stage light; Hauling herself into a waltz with her late husband’s ghostly appearance she imagined beside her– “Edith!”
Hen shouted from the gates of the mansion, and she rose at the sound to look at her. Twisting her body to look back at her companion.
“There you are, everyone is asking for you. Dinner is about to be served and you need to be–” She approached hastily where the lady laid half soaked, grasping Edith’s upper arm to help her up on her feet. But her body, like an unboned corset that lay slumped on the ground. “What is it? What is the matter?”
Edith sniffled from the cold that brushed her nose red. “They will take him from me.”
“What?”
She spoke louder. “They will take his house from me. It will be given to Count Featherlight. They are taking him from me! All his books, all his… Everything. I will have nothing left of him!”
Edith looked beyond her companion upon the sky. Wishing for the tears to dry out before they spilled like a last drop in an already filled cup. Cutting her makeup up; Cracks of it showing her apple cheeks.
“He is already gone, Edith.”
Hen’s hand brushed her hair away, pulling it back as she kneeled beside her. She harshly said.
“However much it hurts. He. Is. Gone.”
She froze. And the cracks of the dam finally broke.
“No.”
“Yes!” She shouted in her face. “It does not change your situation, you need to go inside. Find Count Featherlight to take you in, so you can remarry. You must!”
“No.” Edith whispered, choking out the word as Hen dapped a handkerchief gently against her cheek.
“You must. Marry him and you will continue to have this–”
“You have no right–” She shouted back, her voice cracking. She fumbled for the air. “You have no right– I am your lady!”
Henriette scoffed as the music from the house filled the silence in between them. “You are my equal.” She echoed and it silenced Edith, as she fumbled.