The train huffed into the station and Clarissa stared out the window of the compartment at the side of the station as it came into view. Her trunk had been brought in and readied to depart the train. Her valises, neatly packed, sat beside her trunk. Her hair was tightly pinned to her head and her hair was up in what she hoped was a slightly sophisticated coil.
Her eyes stayed on the plain stone and beam building as Paul spoke. “Ah, so, here we are. Sunnyside and Beek.”
She said, “This is your stop too then?” “Of course.”
She turned her head to face him. “Perhaps we will be able to see each other again?”
It was a hopeful question, and one she desperately wanted an answer to. They’d known each other but a short time but she was wild about him and she had a certainty that no other man would ever do. Most men would never know she needed regular spankings and to make love to her so roughly. Besides, she would be alone in that large and empty house, and she would be lonely.
Paul said, “I am sure we shall see each other.”
It was not the answer she had hoped for but it was better than a no she supposed. The porter came to collect their luggage and take it to the little stairs where they would disembark and they walked down the hallway slowly, their bodies touching gently as the train swayed.
They were handed down and Paul said, “Oh, yes, there’s the conveyance that will take us to the house.”
She blinked. “Us?”
Paul said, “Yes. I am sorry, it seems I forgot to mention that my last name is Reynolds. I am the overseer of the home in which you are now in possession.”
Her eyes went wide. Her mouth hung agape. “You are?”
Paul chuckled. “Yes. I should have told you and I hope you will forgive me for not having done so. It was just that, well, I didn’t want you to feel as if you had to do the things we did because I held your keys in my hands. Literally.”
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled the keys, on a large and slightly rusty ring, out and handed them to her. He helped her into the conveyance and they began the short ride to the estate.
They topped a low rise and Paul said, “There it is, just there. I live in the small house right at the gates, see?”
His finger pointed and she stared at the small wood-and-post house. It was the perfect size for a bachelor. She said so and he said, “Your uncle and I had a nice arrangement. I have a business that takes me out a few times a year while most of the time my work is done in the village. Oh, there’s the drive now.”
Flowers grew in wild profusion and the house sat on a small but wide patch of grass that had been neatly mowed recently. Behind a fence several well-
fed cows grazed and she could see the chicken coops to the right of the house, just beyond the herb and vegetable gardens.
Paul said, “As you can see the house itself is very large.”
It was beautifully built too of Riverstone and wood. The trees stood high and tall and the edges were neatly trimmed. It was so beautiful and green, and so very different from the place that she had always known that Clarissa’s eyes filled with happy tears.
It was all here, everything she could need for the rest of her life. Gardens and food and sunlight and air. The thick smell of coal was gone, as was the feeling of smothering under its heavy mantle.
Also gone was the suffocating feeling of holding herself in check, every day. Of knowing she must be good and when she was not-when she failed to be demure or quiet or soft with her tongue-of feeling as if she were a disappointment to all who loved her and cared for her.
Paul enjoyed her impudence and she knew that he would not change it. He might try to beat it out of her or make her bend her will to his, but he would only ever do that in the heights of passion, and never check her otherwise. It was not his nature to do so.
She had to be bold. She would be bold.
As the conveyance clopped away and they stood at the door of the house, now hers, she looked down at her valise and the heavy truck, the only
reminders of her past and all of its repressions. She would buy pretty fabric in lovely colors and make herself pretty gowns that glowed and moved softly with her every motion. She would wear flowers in her hair if she wished, and she would love the way she wished to.
She said, “Well, your bags are already here.” Paul said, “Yes, they are.”
She drew a long breath. “I suppose now that you’ve ruined me you may as well marry me.”
His laughter was long and loud. “Ah, you are a saucy and impossible little minx, now aren’t you?”
“Oh, I am,” she said with a gamine grin. “Very much so. I suppose it shall take years to change me and even then you may never be able to do so.”
Paul’s eyebrows rose and his handsome face creased in a roguish smile. “Oh, I think I know how to try, anyway.”
Clarissa’s breath caught as hope soared. He’d become so very dear to her, and now she had the time, and the room to get to know him even better. Paul said, “I suppose we can leave that luggage for a short time. The caretaker left this morning and did all the chores before he went, so perhaps we would do better to acquaint you with the house.”
Her smile was wicked. “The house, all of it?”
His smile was equally wicked. “I would say we should at least start at the
master bedroom.”
“Perhaps the guest room,” she said as she skirted past him and put the key into the lock. “Or the kitchens? It does seem to me that you feel that a woman’s place is in the kitchen.”
“See? You are already trying my patience.”
His hand went to her hair and yanked, hard. Her tresses fell and spilled across her shoulders. Her heat sailed off on a small puff of breeze and she let it go.
The door closed behind them and the sound of her laughter, then cries of pleasure proved to be a wonderful christening for her new home, and life.