Once A Lady (Closed)

[daedalus_x]

Mist. Of all the things he thought he would enjoy returning to, he'd never have thought mist would be one, but here it was, and he was loving it. A thin white blanket of it clung to the ground, making what was probably a very mundane moor landscape look alien and artificial. But it was a familiar sort of alien.

There had been mists in India, but he'd never thought of them as such, they'd been heavy, hot, suffocating, not cozily chilling like the weather that right now rolled outside his coach window. The small vehicle shuddered as it crossed a pothole in the track. He'd have to get a man to look at that, he mused.

What was ironic is that this return, which brought him such cozy pleasure, was a product of shame. Only three months ago he had been one of the most promising officers in the army of the Madras Presidency, holding the rank of Major with a large force of sepoys and British officers under him. But he'd fallen for what was, he acknowledge now, the classic vice of the Winterbourne line, the same one that had brought low his grandfather, his great grandfather and the line's founder back in Saxon times – a woman.

In this case the woman had been a dark and sultry beauty, the illegitimate daughter of the Maharaja of Mysore and, as if that were not enough, the lover of his superior, General Beaufort. She had claimed her dalliance with Beaufort was simply politics, to win favours for her father's territory, but that her regard for the young Major Alexander Winterbourne was genuine passion. He'd wanted to hear that. Sadly, it seemed whatever her feelings for Beaufort, the General was smitten with her. A duel had resulted. Winterbourne had been the winner – the General was a fine strategist but too old to bring his blade to bear with any strength. But the wound Winterbourne had given him had been too bad to hide. To his credit, the General had claimed it was an accident sustained when cleaning his sabre, but the cursed Governor of the Madras Presidency was on a crusade against dueling in the army and saw in Winterbourne's skirmish an opportunity to make an example. Both Winterbourne and the General were dishonorably discharged, albeit with their final pay packets in full.

Winterbourne had thought about remaining in India, but he could live far more cheaply back in the Yorkshire manor he had not seen since he was a bare young stripling on his way to the Orient to make his fortune. Luckily he had left it in trusted hands. When he'd been a junior officer in the Presidency Army he had come under the wing of a grizzled but kindly senior officer who had a young daughter back home. When his mentor died, Alexander had rashly agreed to adopt the daughter. He'd thought the girl would come out to India, but apparently her young constitution couldn't handle the hot weather, so she had simply been installed in Winterbourne Manor by his servants. From the sporadic letters he received, she was not only maintaining the Manor in a good state, but she had turned out to be something of a business wizard, and the Manor was now turning a profit for the first time since before the Corn Laws. He admitted he was curious to meet his young ward, she sounded like quite an exceptional young woman. She would be, hmm, in her early twenties now? Perhaps it would be time to think about finding her a husband, although from the look of his books, Alexander would be sorry to lose her.

His meditations were interrupted by the crunch of gravel against the coach's wheels. He had arrived! He found himself leaping out the door with a spring in his step and paying off the coachman with a positively rakish glee. His luggage would be arriving tomorrow – a large enough coach hadn't been available, and it had seemed foolish to linger in the village with his ancestral seat so near while one was found. The mist concealed the heavy stone bulk of Winterbourne Manor, but even what little he could make out of it brought in him a strong, surprising, almost stunning sense of nostalgia. Yes. This was the beginning of the second part of his life, the part that would render his time in India simply an anecdotal flavour to his life's main legend. “Oh, did you know the Prime Minister was once an officer in the Madras Presidency?” He chuckled in indulgent amusement at himself, but he couldn't deny he liked the sound of it.

The lights were on, offering a cozy golden warmth against the cold grey coils of fog outside. He strode across the driveway, up the steps and inside, flinging the doors open... and was stunned a second time by what he saw.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

The sound of the piano vibrated through the walls and into Danielle’s office – originally Alexander Winterbourne’s study. He had abandoned it as well as all those who depended on him; the young woman sitting behind the oak desk, studying columns of numbers, did so without care or thought to the heir to Winterbourne fortune. She picked up the missive from the great Alexander and rolled her eyes. It was another note demanding another large amount of funds. He was bleeding her dry, had been for years, yet his letters still came as did the threats of removing her from his properties.

To those on the outside looking in, it would appear that Danielle Sutherland lived a life of luxury. The gowns she wore looked to have been cut from the finest silk and satin. The gems on her throat, wrist, fingers and even woven into her hair, appeared worth their weight in gold; in the study where she kept her books, paintings once valued for their rarity were nothing more than cheap imitations; these too, only a small handful of people could detect and therefore guess the truth of her circumstances.

A knock on the door brought her out of her musings. She called out, allowing entrance to her private sanctuary. A blonde walked in. Her hair was thick and lay in curls that swept down her back, stopping at the small of her back. “Miss Danielle?”

“Yes Amelia?”

“The boys are calling for a song.”

Danielle sighed, pushed away from the desk and closed the books. “Then a song they shall have,” she told her newest employee. “How do I look?” she asked, as she smoothed her hand down her stomach, and tugged on her evening’s attire.

“Lovely as usual,” Amelia told her.

Miss Sutherland smiled, tossed her red curls with her fingers and glanced at her reflection in the glass that opened to the gardens. She saw herself as men saw her, a tempting morsel waiting to be plucked and devoured. A red robe kept her attributes mostly hidden. It was tied at the waist; the sash, cinched in, showcased her trim figure, full hips, and generous bosom. When she walked the material parted just enough to give her male guests and some female ones, a tantalizing glimpse of her well-toned thighs; shoes, specially hand-crafted by one of the more notable clobbers, added several inches to her less than lofty height. Under the robe she wore a tight corset that lifted her breasts, but kept the round globes safely tucked away and hidden beneath the material of silk and whale bone; the color matched the robe as did her panty and garters. The stockings were ivory, small seed beads littered their surface.

A row of faux pearls hugged her neck; a matching bracelet and earrings along with strings of similar fake jewels decorated her wrists, ears and hair. The light in the room caught the gold bracelet on her ankle. It was a birthday gift, given to her the first year Alexander Winterbourne had taken her under his wing, promising a young child that she would lack for nothing. The following morning had been Christmas and he had taken leave of his responsibilities, leaving her in the care of his staff, and later herself. She’d never gotten anything else from him after that first year, except letter after letter demanding more and more funds to back his adventures across the sea.

Danielle pushed all thoughts of her benefactor and guardian away from her mind. She plastered a warm and seductive smile on her lips as she walked through the door that led from the study to the piano room. Once inside she was greeted by catcalls and whistles. Her blush was genuine. A black man, the size of a gorilla, stepped up to her. Immediately the whistling and ogling stopped as Akello, her personal body guard and friend escorted her to the piano.

She sat down on the bench, now empty from its earlier player. Her fingers touched the ivory and before Danielle knew it she was lost in the music and her voice enticed the crowd. It was not a bawdry tune, but one that left the listener feeling somewhat melancholy. It wasn’t until Akello cleared his throat that she realized she would gain few coins if she did not liven up the tune. Danielle quickly finished the romantic ballad and launched into a tune that brought shouts of laughter and calls for more drink. The night was in full swing; she knew com morning the books would once again be in the black, and she would have the necessary funds to send to Winterbourne.

While Danielle played, ladies in all manner of dress paraded about the room, and into other parts of the house. Local men watched as the ladies were chosen and led away into one of the upper bedrooms. The oldest resident under Danielle’s employ sighed in frustration and disappointment as he watched another night of sin and debauchery take place under his master’s roof. The sound of the door opening brought him up short. He turned and watched as a much older Alexander Winterbourne walked into the foyer and came face to face with the business that had kept Miss Danielle Sutherland, his staff, and his lands under his family’s crest.

“Master Winterbourne,” Thaddeus McCoughlin stepped up and bowed low, sparing more than a glance at the man'. “It’s been a long time Sir.”

 

[daedalus_x]

"Thaddeus!" Alexander had eyes only for his oldest retainer. The amicable old Thaddeus still sported the same sideburns that Alexander had so admired and aspired to as a young'un, even if they were now steely grey. The old man still had the Scottish burr of the Aberdeen he'd abandoned as a teenager - Alexander expected it was an affectation. There were tears in the old cove's eyes and Alexander fancied he had a few prickling his, too. He felt a powerful instinct to hug the servant, but he restrained himself. Such things were not proper. Thaddeus might have been like a second father to him, but he was still a servant. A powerful clap on the shoulder should do the trick, and that is what he got.

"Thaddeus, by God! So good to see you again! Quite the surprise for you, eh?" He expected confusion in the old fellow's eyes but he saw past that to something a bit less expected. Something akin to panic. The thunder of the music and uproar began to dimly intrude on Winterbourne. He glanced over Thaddeus' shoulder towards the great hall. It was empty, but the vast racks of coats and cloaks showed that they had visitors. Many visitors, in fact. "What's going on here, Thaddeus? Some kind of... party?" Winterbourne frowned. He hadn't expected anybody to be throwing any parties, but he supposed it wasn't out of the realms of possibility. Perhaps some bigwig - a Duke or a General or a Minister, even - had descended, demanding hospitality, and then what rightful thinking major domo could have said no. "Some sort of chin up? Well! Seems I chose the right night to come home"

"No, sir. Sir, this is just another night in Winterbourne Hall"

"Eh? Eh, what?" Winterbourne felt confused, and suddenly, thoroughly tired. He realised he'd been promising himself a rest throughout the long journey by coach, horse, and coach again to his ancestral hall. He'd built it up as a refuge, and now it was proving some sort of challenge. He resented the mental effort required to absorb this. "You're making no sense, man!"

Thaddeus gave a deep, weary sigh that spoke of something more of dislike of the effort of explaining. "Master, please... if you'll come with me"

Winterbourne placed his coat and small amount of luggage in Thaddeus' care and then followed him into the music room. He was hardly dressed for any sort of socialising, still in his road clothes, but they'd just have to...

What he saw hit him harder than anything had since a tulwar's sword had nearly taken his neck off outside Seringapatam and had instead knocked him square on the bonce with the hilt. The music hall was a whirl of ghastly, alien proportions. The paintings, he recognised, and the grand piano of mater's was still there, thank the merciful Lord, and he supposed that between the patter and traverse of unwelcome feet he recognised the carpet, but that was it. A hulking African, some red-robed strumpet's fingers caressing his mother's piano, and around them... it was like a vision of hell straight out of the ravings of the not-quite-right-in-the-head Ulsterman who had been his brigade's chaplain. Here, a man lolled in a booth, openly caressed by two women clad only in shifts. There, another two men danced against a young strumpet, their crotches grinding immodestly against her buttocks and own crotch. There, two men - men! - kissed passionately, while there, two women did the same!

Alexander liked to think of himself as no prude, he had seen things in India, amid the seedier officer's messes and the more decrepit arrak houses, and, hells, once or twice in the highest Temples of the Hindoo faith, that would have made any parish vicar sputter and reach for his book of hell's punishments. But this was of a kind and a scale he had no room for in his experience or his mind. And it was here! In his home! On the same carpet he'd played in as a youth? Dear god, had he died on the road, and been delivered to some ghastly judgement for his dalliances? Or had he fallen, dashed his head, and was now tormented by some horrid brain fever spurting visions of ineffable horror?

"Thaddeus, Thaddeus!" He babbled his servant's name, grasping the old cove's coat, all etiquette deserting him as he sagged against the shorter, senior man. "Thaddeus, I can't, I..." And that was enough. His brain had decided that it liked the idea of a fever faint, so that was where he went. His last memory was of some of those faces turning idly from their debauch to watch him crumple like a cheap accordion. He had faced down mad dervishes and chasing tulwars, but this, this was too much for him.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

The sound of the piano drowned out the initial shock that Danielle's guests and employees made, so she continued to play the rousing number that had earlier made the men and women laugh and shout for more drinks. The servants, area ladies - hired by Danielle, had quickly done the bidding of the men and women. It wasn't until Danielle changed pages in her music that she noticed the sudden silence. She frowned, looked over the music and saw the crumbled man lying on the floor. Thaddeus stared dumbstruck at her; his gaze continually traveling from her, to Akello, to the man on the floor.

A long frustrated sigh left her parted lips. She rolled her eyes and left the piano. “I don't know why you all are staring, it's not the first and I hardly think it will be the last time a drunk nobleman falls to the floor.”

The sound of Thaddeus sputtering something about the “Master” of the house barely registered in Danielle's mind. She pushed past the guest who were staring, motioned for one of her girls to take her place on the piano and nodded for Akello to follow her. He reached the sodden before Danielle did, and lifted the sap with both hands, put him over his shoulder and left the music room, with Danielle and Thaddeus following.

“Where do you want him, Miss?” the black man asked.

“In the barn, he can –.”

Danielle's words were cut short by Thaddeus' gasp. “No! Mistress, you can not put him in the barn! He's... well, it's Master Winterbourne and you –.”

Akello stopped, turned and stared at the old man. Danielle's jaw went slack as she glanced at the man in her bodyguard's arms. “Surely not,” she muttered, walked around her bulk of a man, leaned down, angled her head up and stared at the softened features of a man weak and frail – or so she assumed it, since he had fainted at the mere sight of barely clad women. It had been years, too many for her to recall what Winterbourne had actually looked like; this man seemed to be the right age, though she was sure his constitution was stronger than what had been displayed earlier. He wore the clothes of a fine Englishman, though they stank of sweat, horse, and travel. “Thaddeaus, this is not Alexander Winterborune. You're mistaken. He's far too dirty and well – Winterbourne just sent me a missive demanding more funds.”

She turned away and faced the old man and her bodyguard again. “Take him to the stables. He can sleep off his drunkenness and come tomorrow, he'll be sober enough to not fall on his face.”

“Mistress! I beg of you, you can't –.”

“Enough, if it were truly Winterbourne than why would he show up now, after demanding money? It is obvious your age is getting the best of you and,” she saw the hurt in the man's expression, “I'm sorry, look – we'll let him rest in the stables, I'll give him a warm blanket, a nice pillow and even breakfast in the morning. He obviously reminds you of your Master, and my guardian, so your heart is guiding you and I'll let it guide me as well. But tomorrow, after breakfast he goes. I don't have room in my house for another mouth to feed, especially one that can't handle the sight of a naked girl or two, and probably wouldn't know what to do with one if he had one in his grasp.”

“Oh Mistress –.”

“Akello, take him to the stables; I'll send one of the lads out with a warm blanket and a goose down pillow.”

The black man did as he was told, shrugging his parcel with little regard to who he was, or wasn't. While Thaddeus twisted his fingers into knots. “Now, return to your post, or retire for the night. There are several hours left in the night before our guests take their leave,” Danielle told the servant, before signaling for another near by. The boy approached, quickly did her bidding and left her ample time to return to the music room. The idea of Alexander Winterbourne arriving unannounced and passing out on her floor made her giggle. As she took in the sinful displays of youth and age, she quietly counted up the coins she would make this night, and how far they could stretch into the future before she was forced to open Winterbourne manner again.

While the lady of the house managed the going on outside, Akello found a relatively clean stall to place the man. He deposited him rather roughly and watched as another lad followed in behind him with the promised warmth and comfort. Akello had never met Winterbourne but as he studied him a thought that old Thaddeus was right and his friend Danielle was wrong crept into his mind. He smirked, curious as to what tomorrow would bring. He left the man there, words given to the boy to keep watch and to find him if there were trouble, then Akello returned to the house, where he would remain in a corner watching and waiting for any more mischief that needed his firm hand. Morning, he thought, covering a yawn, could not come soon enough.

 

[daedalus_x]

The smell of horses was one that Alexander knew well. He'd been a cavalry officer in India and had spent many a night bedded down with one of his steeds. So the shock of his memories was leavened by the comforting scent and sense of the presence of horses. A soft, inquisitive whinny sounded, drawing him out of sleep and to wakefulness.

He was still in his clothes - somebody had thrown a blanket over him which along with the proximity of the horse's body heat had kept him warm through what looked to have been a freezing night. He rose, inhaling the bracingly chill air - he'd missed that stinging cold moorland air during many sultry nights in India - and then it all came rushing back to him. The same cold air in his lungs last night as he stepped from his carriage and into Winterbourne Hall, his meeting with Thaddeus, and then he'd seen...

...he reeled, putting one hand on the wall of the stable to steady himself. That orgy of depravity in his own home! The rampant lechery in the very halls he had once played and studied in! It was, he had...

...he remembered it all now. Swearing in Tamil under his breath, he sank down onto his haunches.

He had no idea how it had happened but somehow this horde of libertines had invaded Winterbourne Manor. It must have been recent, for he had been in correspondence with his ward, Danielle, for many years while he had been away and she'd reported nothing so untoward. What had happened to Danielle, he wondered? The poor young girl, he hoped she had not somehow been caught up in all of this.

Whomever the villains behind this were, they had somehow lured Thaddeus in. They were clearly dangerous men. To confront them would be foolish - he was enough of a soldier to know that direct confrontation was rarely the best approach. No, he would seek Thaddeus out and then do what he could to understand the situation.

Half an hour later he had combed the tangles out of his long, Byronesque hair as best he could with the small travel comb he kept inside his jacket, washed his face with a handcloth and some water from the drinking trough, and begun the walk up the hill through the grounds to Winterbourne Hall. Its low, stony shape looked like some neolithic henge perched upon the bleak hillside. He had taken the precaution of securing a broom handle from the stables about his person - it was far less efficient a weapon than the sabres and scimitars he had trained with, but it might give him an edge in the regrettable instance that fisticuffs occurred.

As he ascended the hill, he heard a voice crying out. "Master Winterbourne! Master!" And there was Thaddeus, ambling down the hill. Perhaps the old cove had been intending to meet him at the stables.

A brief discussion ensued and Thaddeus gave him the facts. It seemed that somehow the woman he had seen the previous evening had enveigled her way into the Manor, perhaps through taking advantage of poor young Danielle's innocence and lack of worldy ways. Why Winterbourne Hall of all places should have served as a place for the staging of these elaborate passion plays he had no idea, but he suspected Thaddeus would have no clue, so he didn't press him. Before Thaddeus had finished, an idea was whirling in his mind, and by the time the old cove was close to finished, it had formulated fully.

Apparently Thaddeus had introduced him as Alexander Winterbourne, but that needn't be an obstacle. He would pass himself off as a distant cousin, one of the Painthorpe Winterbournes, his third cousins. One of them, he knew, was also an Alexander and of a similar age. He'd met the young man only once and the resemblance had been remarked upon even if they'd had little else in common. (Cousin Alexander, rumour had it, was a gambler and perhaps a sodomite) He would claim he was his cousin, late of Painthorpe, down on his luck and looking for work about the estate. The villainess who had usurped his birthright would not likely have the mettle to turn him away. He would get a better look at what was going on and decide then how best to assert himself. Perhaps it would be as simple as going to the magistrate and demanding his rights be enforced but he had no wish to air his family's dirty laundry in public so - it would be embarassing. Better to solve this himself, if only he knew how to. And at that, he might discover latterly what had happened to Danielle.

Alexander was not a hugely subtle man and a satisfied smirk had formed on his face. Thaddeus looked askance and worried. "Thaddeus!" he interrupted his servant. "I have a plan. You say I am invited to breakfast this morning? So! This is what we shall do"

Thaddeus seemed to disapprove, but the old bounder had never been much of a one for adventure. Alexander recalled that when he and his elder brother had occupied themselves playing Nelson at the Nile in the Long Pond with their model ships, Thaddeus had always been the one deputed to haul them out of the chill water come dusk, even though that was when it had become capital fun. But Alexander was master now, not his father, and so it would be his plan. Thaddeus finally clammed up, even though he seemed to have some morsel of information about the villainess that he felt that Alexander simply must hear. But the young squire had no patience for it - if it was important he'd find it out himself, at breakfast.

And so it was when Danielle came down to breakfast she found last night's strange visitor seated just as she'd expected at the far end of the table, waiting with impeccable etiquette for her to be seated before he began. The man, although clearly approaching middle age without notable grace, had a smirk on his face that belied a young boy who had just been given an extra large toffee apple and intended to enjoy it. Perhaps he was just pleased to see her?

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

The sound of birds invaded Danielle's slumber, and so she had risen earlier than her body had wished to, but she often ignored her body's cravings. Today was no different. She'd risen from her bed, tossing the blankets away and exposing herself to the coolness of her room. A long breath gave proof that the fire was out and the air surrounding her was suffering. Her hands rubbed at the goosebumps on her arms; she grabbed her robe and quickly moved around the room, pulling out stockings and garters, securing them to her person and then quickly pulling on a blue dress that was simple and easy to wear throughout the day. Serviceable brown shoes covered her feet. Gone were the dreams of gowns made of silk and satin, jewels that adorned her slim wrists, and graceful neck. All of these things she'd given up over the years, and now she looked more the part of a governess, not the lady of the manor. Finery was reserved for her employees. Her more luxurious belongings now were a few robes, faux trinkets, and a few expensive underclothes that were only hinted at when she walked into a room.

She tied the strings that held the front of the dress together, brushed her hair, allowing it to hang low, the curls caressing the small of her back. A comb was tucked into the curls near her face, dragged back and secured so she would not have to constantly bush the locks from her eyes. It wasn't until she stepped over the threshold of the breakfast room that she recalled her extended offer to the stranger. She glanced his way as she took her seat. A servant appeared, poured her a cup of tea and disappeared. Danielle dropped two cubes of sugar into the steaming brew and stirred it until it dissolved. A knife was in her hand, the shell of her hard-boiled egg cracked and the top lifted. A dash of salt was sprinkled over the white and it wasn't until she was ready that she addressed the man across from her.

“I see you've recovered from last night. I do hope the stables were comfortable, my apologies if they weren't, but you seemed to be – well – out of sorts last night, and I run a business; having a drunk passed out on the floor does not sit well with the ambiance I am trying to project.” She sipped her tea and took a bite of her egg, before continuing. “You're welcome to eat your fill, but you will be expected to leave afterward. Your gear, to my understanding, has been handled by Thaddeus. I failed to ask how you came to be here, but if you had a horse or a vehicle and driver, I'm sure one of the lads here at Winterbourne Manor did whatever was necessary to secure them for your safe-keeping.”

She picked up a slice of toast and spread a thin layer of butter over the top, before applying a small dollop of strawberry jam. Danielle bit into the bread, licked her lips and ate the sweetened confection, before giving her attention to the man who had not yet spoken, but instead had waited until she had said her peace. Her gaze drifted lazily over his figure, taking in his long hair, and somewhat disheveled appearance. Thaddeus' proclamation that he was Alexander Winterbourne came back to her. She smirked, no – this was not Alexander. He had been taller, wide-shoulder, dark hair; his smile was warm and caring. He was a god in her eyes, that image however had faded over time. She knew he was most likely still handsome, but he was no god. The amount of coin he demanded made her a pauper and he a satanic evil that was hoarding her money for his unholy adventures.

Unknowingly Danielle frowned at the thought of her guardian. Her fingers curled around the handle of her glass. The only thing keeping her fantasy of Alexander alive was the gold anklet safely tucked away in her jewel box upstairs. It was the only thing left that she had tying her to what could have been.

 

[daedalus_x]

Alexander relished the chance to eat a proper English breakfast - those he'd had in the various coaching inns and resthouses between Portsmouth and York had technically qualified but lacked the easy ambience and civilised demeanour that he associated with his own breakfast memories. And now here he was, back in his childhood home, eating dinner at the same table, with the same service, that he had enjoyed during his halycon days before leaving for India. Oh, things had changed - quite a number of things, from what he'd come to understand from Thaddeus - but the familiar surroundings gave him the energy and resolve he needed as he confronted The Woman who was now, he supposed, his adversary. Yes, he would make this work.

Deploying his front-line table manners he nodded amicably while she spoke to him.

"Actually, m'lady, I have to protest. I was not drunk last night, merely quite fatigued. I had extended almost every resource I had, mental and physical, to reach here. You see my arrival here is not as, ah, whimsical as some of your other guests. I am sorry I withheld it from you - my constitution prevented me but the fault was mine. I hope to rectify this now"

He cleared his throat, took a sip of tea - not too casual, he gently reprimanded himself - and spoke.

"You see, as Thaddeus might have told you, my name is Alexander Winterbourne. No no - I am not the Alexander you might be familiar with, although we share a name for a reason. He is my distant but well regarded cousin, and while we share descent from Master James Winterbourne II - perhaps you have heard of him - I come from the Painthorpe Winterbournes. Sadly our family and myself have fallen upon spare times lately, due in no small part to my own errors"

"So seeking a new start, and a new enterprise, and hearing that there was much industry elsewhere in the family, I resolved to come here to see if some consideration can be found. I am not sure exactly what your undertaking here entails, but I have a strong arm, an able mind, and - or so I flatter myself - a ready personality"

He set aside his knife and leaned forward with what he hoped was a friendly smile. "So how do you feel about this, Miss...?" He realised that he still didn't know her name, but hopefully this was the point he'd learn it, if nothing else.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Her eyes had narrowed at his proclamation as to whom he was. At first she had been shocked to hear that Thaddeus had indeed called it as he saw it, and she had been the one to jump to conclusion. She had assumed he meant the Alexander Winterbourne. It was her own fault, she had waved off the man and had treated him disrespectfully, too concerned with getting the drunkard out of her parlor than listening to her must trusted servant. Danielle sighed as she listened to the rest of the man's tale. She set her tea cup on the saucer and when he was finished addressing her, she sat back and rested her hands on her lap.

“Thaddeus claimed as much - well in truth I read into his words more than I examined them. I thought he meant you were my Alexander and I knew you were not him, seeing as I had just - well, it doesn't matter. Your families – both sides – seem content to ignore his holdings – all of them.” Her jaw tightened as she thought of how her pleas for assistance had gone ignored.

She lifted her hand to wave off the memories. “So the fact that one of them has decided to suddenly take it upon himself to seek aid from me, is shocking almost laughable. Winterbourne agreed to take me in, provide for me and see to my education, needs, and eventually my coming out.” She laughed softly, the words and her actions spoke of the disgust she felt for her guardian. “My name is Danielle and am under his protection,” she snickered again. The last word of her statement rolled off her tongue like acid.

“Unlike your family I am willing to aid those in need. I was taught, no thanks to my guardian, to help where I can and to ease the suffering of others. If you speak with Akello he can find work for you and if you are found to be a trustworthy fellow and he feels you can keep your mouth shut, you may seek employment inside the house when another strong arm is needed.”

Danielle did not sugar coat her words, nor did she disguise her feelings for the man's relative. Akello walked in and nodded to both the man and his Mistress. Her features softened as the black man worked to fill his own plate. He took a seat and dove into his meal, which threatened to spill over the edges of his plate. “Akello, this is the cousin to Master Winterbourne; they have the same name that is why Thaddeus introduced him as Alexander. I've offered him a place with us – if there is a place for him.”

Akello shook his head and shoveled more food into his mouth. When he was done he turned and looked at the somewhat disheveled presence. “As long as the lad isn't scared of hard work, I'll find something for him.”

“Mister Winterbourne, Akello is a free man, so if you have any aversions to taking directions from him, I suggest you leave them at the door, or take them with you when you escorted off my lands – do we have an understanding?” Danielle asked as she watched the stranger take in all that she had shared, as well as the fact he would be taking orders from someone who should by all rights be the lowest ranking person in the room.

 

[daedalus_x]

Alexander was able to restrain himself as the lady's contemptuous words came out. He didn't really mind her speaking ill of the Painthorpe Winterbournes - they were fearful oiks, after all. And he could deal with being asked to take direction from a dark man - he'd served under Moghul officers in India when he'd been just a Lieutenant and some of them had been fine warriors, and even those who hadn't, well, he supposed it was no fault of their skin, there were after all enough corrupt fools among the white men. Speaking of which...

When she introduced himself he was able to prevent from exclaiming in disbelief. He did find his gaze fixated on her but he supposed and hoped that would just seem like close attention, not shock. Danielle? This was Danielle? The young girl he had taken in as a stripling? Why, he supposed that, yes, she must be a woman now, although he had envisaged... well he had no idea what he had envisaged, but God's Wounds, it surely wasn't this.

He was in something of a daze as Akello led him away. Apparently there was an old stump on the lower field that needed chopping down and rooting up. He relished the task - he always found he thought well when he was given a repetitive task to do, and wielding the ask was a good chance to exercise his muscles, too. He'd had his regular program of exercises disrupted by the trip from India so now was as good a time as any. As Akello worked a small distance away to clear some weeds, he could sense the blackamoor's eyes on him. Well, he might not be able to charm Akello with his honeyed words - he could see the man was obviously well in the good graces of Danielle and liked it there - but he could show him that Alexander Winterbourne knew how to wield an axe and turn in a hard day's work.

His mind buzzed as he swung, felt the axe bite the wood, and swung again. Danielle! By Jove, none other! He admitted that since he'd found this vista of debauchery he'd not thought what had happened to Danielle - but had he thought about it the last thing he'd think was that she would be at the centre of it! So what to do, what to do? He couldn't help but think that there must be a more cynical hand at work - some shadowy figure who had corrupted Danielle and was using her in a cynical agenda to turn his family home into a blown-up arak house.

All he could do, he realised, was enter into her confidence somehow. For now, the best way to do that was to impress her with his work. Hopefully he would soon be able to graduate beyond cutting down tree stumps - if nothing else, there weren't that many of them.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Danielle took a deep breath and stared at the numbers. Winterbourne's money had been sent, now she needed a second party to not only cover the expenses that were necessary in maintaining a manor such as Winterbourne but also because of the new demands that had been presented for her a few days ago.

If she had the nerve she would sell off several prime pieces of her guardian's lands, but that was going too far; turning his lavish grounds into a brothel – well that was better than allowing it to fall into the hands of his debtors.

She stared at the newest parcel of papers that had been delivered by the magistrate, two weeks after cousin Alexander had appeared. The various pieces of script were demands for payment for debts owed to various gaming establishments. “It seems my benefactor,” she choked on the word, “has suddenly developed a fondness for gambling.”

Long fingers pushed through her hair as she fought back the tears that had fallen when she first read the receipts. The magistrate, James Cameron, had made a big production of being forced to step foot into such a decadent and immoral place, pointing out what a fine name she had ruined and how the founding fathers were rolling in their graves. Danielle refused to point out that he had attended the last party and had left quiet happily with his perverse appetite satisfied.

“Akello, it looks as if one of our usual lads will be unable to continue acting as a body guard for our parties.” She left her desk and walked to the windows that overlooked one of the pastures. “How is Alexander working out?” she asked.

Danielle had not seen much of the man, and for that she was thankful. His presence disturbed her, simply because of who he was. Perhaps if he had a different name she would find him more pleasing to associate with, but as it was right now...he was just another thorn in her side and another mouth to feed.

“He's doing well. A fine worker, not much of a busy body. Does what needs done and strong enough I'm sure to hold his own,” her friend said.

“See if he'll clean up enough to be presentable for the next party. I really don't want him recognized as the man that couldn't hold himself upright at the last gathering. The last thing I need is for those with more power than I to see me with a weak boy taking the rank of guard.”

Akello laughed. “He's far from a boy, Miss.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Perhaps, but boy or man, I've no time for neither. The party is in two nights time. See that all is ready. The girls are anxious for their most favored gentlemen to lavish gifts upon them.”

“Miss, perhaps instead of parties you should open the doors up for daily...”

Danielle spun around. “I will not subject my girls to daily fucking. They're not whores!” She saw her bodyguard raise his brows. “Well, they are whores, but... they aren't that type. If I keep them on their backs all day and night, than I truly am no better. The girls are educated and reimbursed for their,” she cleared her throat, “activities. They come and go as they please and are treated with respect within the village – that I take care of, no thanks to that snake of a cad Alexander.”

She took a calming breath. “Two nights, Akello. Have him presentable and make sure he knows about the privacy we promise to our clients. He's not from around here, so it shouldn't be an issue, but still – he needs to be aware that the need to keep his mouth shut is the only thing that will keep clothes on his back, food in his belly, and a knife from finding a path to his heart.”

Akello left and Danielle returned to her desk. She stacked the notes into a pile, pushed them back into the parcel package and shoved them into one of the drawers. The ring of keys on her hips jiggled as she released them and turned the correct one into the drawer lock. Her head pounded as she thought about the newest debt that her guardian was incurring.

Once outside she made her way to the stables, hoping to have one of the horses saddled and ready for a good long run.

 

[daedalus_x]

Akello, Alexander had discovered, while he was certainly the muscular and formidable man he appeared to be at first glance, was also something of a fuss-bucket. As the negro's large hands worked on his cravat he found himself insensibly reminescent of the old nursemaid who had dressed him when he was a youth, being presented to elderly relatives. Of course it didn't help that it had been in this very room - then a parlour for the youths of the household, now set aside as a temporary servant's quarters for the night's revelry.

Alexander felt an excitement quite akin to that he felt going into battle as Akello satisfied himself that Alexander did not look like the ne'er-do-well that both he and his mistress thought him to be. And, he supposed, that excitement wasn't unwarranted. There was certainly as much at stake here as there'd been in any of his skirmishes with the vagabonds and thugees of the Karnatik. He'd need his wits about him just as much. Perhaps he was not in danger, but perhaps for that matter he was - this villainous gang would surely resort to violence if they thought that was the only way to preserve their way of life. He was glad that this thought had occurred to him earlier, and he'd had the forethought to secure a sturdy but sharp serving knife in the flank of his boot.

That being said he did hope that he'd have no cause to use it. In the short time he'd been here he'd been treated fairly - for who he claimed to be, anyway - and warmly. The girls, he hadn't seen - he'd been sequestered from them, presumably out of fear he might deflower them like the wastrel his ruse claimed he was. But Akello and the other servants, the cooks and chefs, were overly familiar, but otherwise amiable. He didn't recognise any of them, but Thaddeus spoke relatively highly of them. The only one who didn't seem to really warm to them was Danielle, and that, he presumed, was because whatever dark powers had twisted her to fulfil this diabolical role made her suspicious of him.

Finally, he was attired to Akello's satisfaction. He had been attired to his own satisfaction about half an hour ago, but it would do. With military precision he trooped out and took his position next to the front doors. A bell rung, and the first carriage began to make its way up the drive, shrouded with mist, just as it had been when he'd first made his way here. Finally he would get a good look at exactly what was happening.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

The music playing was once again loud and boisterous, and once again Danielle had tucked herself in a corner to take stock of the scenes playing out with various couples. Her head pounded; she rubbed her temples and grimaced at the pain that seemed to swallow up any conscious thoughts.

The night had already proved to be another success. Many of the Lords and Ladies had appeared via their own personal carriages or hired vehicles. Those that were new to the going-ons within her walls had previously been screened and understood the price paid if her trust was put to the test.

Akello had assured her that Alexander would do well serving at the party; from what little she had seen of him, she acknowledge that he did play the role as submissive serving lad quite well. Tonight though she could not think about the man, or how strapping he looked in the polished clothes or his fresh-clean appearance. He hadn’t been recognized as the lackey that had collapsed weeks earlier and for that she was thankful.

“Miss Danielle, you look quite parched and ill. Are you alright?”

Danielle turned to the man who had suddenly appeared beside her. “Mister Cameron, a pleasure to see you here this evening.” The lie rolled easily off her tongue. She noted the extra glass of wine in his hand and took it. “Thank you,” she said, sipped the white liquid and licked her lips.

“I wish to discuss something with you, something a tad bit troubling.”

She frowned, noted the sound of his voice and how it was laced with false concern. “And what is that?” she asked.

“Oh, it is much too serious as to discuss here in the open, perhaps if we could take a turn in the gardens?” He nodded toward the double doors.

“I am far from being properly dressed for a turn around the flora.” Her brows rose in annoyance at the mere suggestion that she accompany him outside. The idea of being alone with the magistrate made her stomach twist.

“You would be quite chilled, wouldn’t you?” he said. His eyes traveled down her body, pausing to rest on the promising swell of her bosom. The black robe she wore did little to reveal the black corset, garters and stockings. James shook his head in appreciation. “I find it hard to believe that you dress this way and yet refuse the advances of your guests.”

She lifted a brow. “Whom I refuse and whom I don’t refuse is entirely my business.”

“Yes, but refusing me makes it my business.” James hissed. He stepped closer and whispered into her ear. “I was told by that mammoth beast of a guard that I am not allowed a companion this evening.”

“This is true. You left the last girl with a broken rib. The only reason you’re even allowed within these walls is because you are the law and even I know the penalty for refusing you.”

“If that is true, then why refuse me one of your girls?”

Danielle shifted nervously on her feet. “I am looking for the proper girl for you,” she lied. “I understand your taste runs on the more extreme side, my girls are not here for you to abuse, but I know there are women who enjoy,” she blushed, “that side of a man.”

James smirked. He reached out to stroke her cheek, Danielle turned away. “You know so little of men. Do you not see that breaking them in, is what we enjoy?”

She paled and jerked away from his hands. “My girls are not here to be abused by you,” her voice was low, but full of anger. “If you wish to seek them out, you will do so with a gentle hand.”

“And if I don’t?”

She stepped up and pressed her body against his. He grinned hungrily.

“If you don’t, that mammoth beast of a guard I have, will see to it that you never have reason to seek the company of a woman ever again.”

This time James paled.

Danielle turned away, plastered a smile on her face and hurried to her guardian’s library. Behind the door she shook violently and pressed her palm to her stomach. She knew the encounter with James Cameron would not be the last.

“God damn you Alexander Winterbourne!” she shouted to the air around her, before wiping a stray tear from her eye.

 

[daedalus_x]

Something was making the hairs on the back of Alexander's neck stand up. He stalked around the parlour - he wasn't needed right now, the party had got into the swing of things, the guests were mostly taking it slow on the food and drink due to the surfeit of other pleasures and could all find their way around, so right now neither he nor Akello were really needed. Akello had taken a turn in the gardens, murmuring something about needing some fresh air, so here he was, alone. Some cold meats and bread had been laid out, along with some weak beer, and although he'd sipped the drink for something to do, he wasn't all that hungry. Sitting down on a small kitchen hand's stool, flicking his coat tails out of the way, he found himself idly wondering how long he could keep this up. He heard the murmur of conversation, laughter, and the occasional quiet moan or sigh of ecstasy that was coming from the public areas. "In my house" he pronounced to himself. For some reason, he just couldn't summon the outrage tonight. Earlier, the very thought had been enough to make him swoon like a debutante, but now he had to concentrate to bring it out. Could such debauchery become lackaday and humdrum so quickly? "In my house... my childhood house" He repeated the words but they sounded alien, flat. There was no feeling to them.

Suddenly, two words emitted from the general hub-bub. They were not close but there was something in the tone that was strident, desperate even, that made him prick his ears up even before he realised that those words were... his name!

"ALEXANDER WINTERBOURNE!"

And that was a voice he recognised, too - Danielle! Why was she calling for him? She sounded distressed.

The last he'd heard she was in one of the retreating rooms. Shrugging on his vest and, with some instinct he would later find difficult to recount, securing a small but sharp pork-flensing knife in his waistband, unseen but easy to reach, he rose and exited the servant's quarters. He nodded demurely, absently to the various great and good wafting around in pre-coital eagerness or, more scandalously, post-coital bliss. A few threw appreciative glances his way - he supposed he did cut a pretty fine figure in servant's clothes that were not exactly designed to cloak the male form, but damnit, there was something more important afoot!

As he threw aside the curtain leading into the softly-lit corridor which the retreating rooms opened into, he fairly collided with a tall, lanky, grey-haired and bluff featured Scot. The man gave Winterbourne an annoyed look, one which rose into good old-fashioned upper class ardour as Winterbourne, absorbed and forgetting that he was a servant here, attempted to push past the man with ill humour.

"I say, you there! That man!" A large, craggy hand reached out to grab Alexander's arm. He wheeled and looked at it with no small amount of shock. Not even anger, just shock. The man had a Scottish accent and smelt faintly of expensive gin, but seemed alert - there was a little flash of liquor in his eyes but not enough to render his judgement nul.

"What?" Alexander met his gaze with the frustration he felt and tugged his arm free. The Scot looked incredulous, then reached out to cuff Alexander across the cheek. It wasn't hard - the man was obviously used to batting servants around and knew how to maximise the humiliation and minimise the actual harm. Still, Alexander staggered, and his ears rung. He'd been hit harder than that before, but the blow had caught him unawares.

"Where is Mistress Danielle?" Alexander asked the man, the urgent need to attend to her cry still foremost.

"I say, what cheek! I'll ask the questions, you bloody fool? Now tell me, who do you think you are, chivying your betters like that?"

"I don't have time for this" Alexander snorted in frustration. "Mistress Danielle, is she here? I heard her cry out, she seemed distressed"

"Distressed? That bloody trollope? The only distress she'll get is her bloody nethers drying out because she isn't being attended to be a real man"

The idea of this highland brute straddling Danielle made Alexander see red a little. "Now look here! I won't stand by and let you speak of her like that!"

Hamilton bellowed with laughter. "You? You won't permit it? And I suppose I am meant to care, am I?" He reached out to push Alexander out of the way. "You bloody... ow!" His push had dislodged the blade, and the man cut his hand. Bringing the bleeding palm to his chest, his eyes widened as he saw Alexander touch the weapon - a subconscious instinct from his days in India, making sure the weapon was still sure and easy to draw.

"What kind of mutiny is this? You stabbed me? I'll thrash you to within an inch of your life, you fucking blackguard!"

Hamilton had been a soldier in his youth, and he was strong. He reached for the nearest object that could be swung - a slender ivory umbrella stand imported from somewhere in the Guinea Coast by Alexander's grandfather - and whipped it towards Alexander, who grunted, falling partway to his knees. His fingers closed around the hilt of the knife, but he didn't draw it, trying to exercise what little restraint he had. He could feel a fury building in him. "Mistress Danielle, is she...?"

The ivory stand raised to strike another blow, Hamilton snarled. "Mistress Danielle! Hah! I'll thrash you to within an inch of your life and then I'll go back in there and take here, and damned be the consequences!"

That was it. Alexander was over the edge. As the stand swung he darted to one side, pulling out the knife, and fell on Hamilton.

In the end it was over quickly. Human flesh was a too, too solid and too, too fragile thing. Hamilton croaked, clutching his chest incredulously where the knife was jammed into it, the handle haven broken off in Alexander's hand. He'd got a good blow in on Alexander, who now sported a black eye and a nasty cut on his cheek from where one of the stand's sharp edges had raked him. But Hamilton's life was going from him. He'd seen it many times before, although always on the dusty plains of the Deccan, not in the civilised halls of his childhood home. Not two rooms away, the party raged and boomed like a distant beast.

"Bloody... mutiny..." Hamilton gave a burbling hiss, and then life fled from him.

Alexander, in a daze but his rage spent, knelt to take the man's pulse. Yes. Lifeless. Just as he did so, his 'Mistress' entered the corridor... and thinks got a lot more complicated.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Once Danielle had taken a moment to curse her guardian, take a shot of whisky from the crystal decanter and curse him again, she felt somewhat more at ease with her surroundings. She would deal with the running of the house, and her girls with the same skill she always had, and if it meant dealing with the magistrate on a one-on-one basis than so be it. Granted she wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, but it felt good to tell herself that she could handle him.

Danielle opened the door to her private sanctuary and stepped around the corner to come face to face with her newest employee and a profusely bleeding body. She blinked as she took in the disheveled corridor, her employee and the obvious dead form of one of her guests, Lord Hamilton.

Her face grew pale as she ran over to Alexander. “What have you done?” she hissed and looked around. The keys on her hips jingled as she pushed past the servant and pressed her fingers to the man’s pulse. “He’s dead, god damn it! I knew you were nothing but trouble! You’re ilk is –oh god – what am I,” she sighed and pushed her fingers through her hair, mindless of her state of dress.

The Mistress of the house stood up and licked her lips. She couldn’t allow Hamilton’s death to bring down all she worked for, nor could she allow her employee to walk away with blood stains on his hands, boots, clothes. “A fine mess,” she muttered.

Inwardly Danielle was fighting to remain calm and balanced. It was a struggle, yet a necessary one. “You better have someone in your family that loves you, because you’ve truly fucked up.” The vulgar term rolled off her tongue just as one of the side doors opened and a pair of women stepped out.

Danielle immediately recognized one of the women as one of her girls the other was Hamilton’s wife. Both women smiled at Danielle, then caste a glance behind her. Lady Hamilton screamed, as did Sierra, a dark beauty with succulent qualities. As both women screeched, Danielle closed her eyes and counted to twenty, by the time she was done, all the doors leading to the corridor were open and males in various states of undress were spilling out, some brandishing weapons.

Her stomach pitched as her eyes caught those of James Cameron. The leer he gave her spoke volumes and she knew the price he would demand of her. Her lower lip trembled as she took a deep breath and stepped away from her employee and the dead body. “Hamilton attempted to rape me, and if it weren’t for my servant, I would have suffered greatly by his hand.”

James sneered as he pushed through the crowd. “Is that so?” he asked the servant, who looked battered and bruised, though his eyes had quickly shifted back to Danielle and her dark silk robe.

She pulled her gaze from the magistrate's and stared at Alexander. If he confessed to the crime he’d committed she could do nothing, he would hang. If he allowed her to weave the lie, he would most likely be seen as the champion among all men, at least in the eyes of the women in her home. The fall out in society was something he wouldn’t have to worry about, seeing as he was nothing more than a servant.

Women sobbed and men shuffled nervously on their feet, muttered amongst themselves and waited for the young man to speak.

 

[daedalus_x]

Alexander's hand reached for his cheek, where the blow from the umbrella stand had left an angry, queer-shaped mark which leaked long tendrils of dark blood. "I..." He took a second to compose himself, drew in a deep, shuddering breath and, drawing on the reserves of internal strength, continued. "Yes, it's true. This man made his intentions quite clear and when I tried to intercede, he attacked me. I was forced to defend myself and I'm afraid that his life was lost" He swallowed and tried not to imagine him saying that in a Magistrate's court....

"If I may, Lady Hamilton, since nobody here wants a scandal, I suggest that we arrange for your husband to have an... aherm... an accident in the coach on the way home. A tragic, unavoidable but ultimately random accident. If you'll entrust me with the arrangements, I can see to it"

Lady Hamilton looked down at her husband's corpse and then up at Alexander, a little spark of something positive in her eyes. Who knows, perhaps her husband's brutish behaviour tonight had been characteristic. Whatever the case, she whipped her fan through the air with a little more vigour than was probably necessary and nodded.

"That is very considerate of you, my boy. I'll speak to my coachman and hopefully the two of you can make arrangements together. Now if you'll excuse me I have no wish to linger here"

When the other guests had departed, the scandal hopefully damped down, Alexander turned to Danielle. He knew he had to put away the corpse but for some reason he felt explaining himself to her was even more urgent.

"That was barely a lie, you know Danielle. He wasn't literally atop you as I told the Lady, but he made clear his intention to return and have his way with you. If I hadn't stopped him, well..." He coughed in what he hoped was a delicate way, or at least as delicate as it could be given the hugely indelicate circumstances.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

They stood there in the corridor alone. Danielle had watched James, the Magistrate smirk, and saw the chuckle he held back reflected in his eyes. He tilted his head and winked, then turned and ushered the other guests out of the way.

Danielle knew the law man would be back to collect the body. It wasn't like they could just pick the dead nobleman up and whisk him away in secret. No, she was going to have to suffer greatly for Alexander's dirty deed.

His words bore her little comfort. She stared at him while he gave an excuse for killing another human being while bleeding on her carpet.

“Are you blind?” she hissed. Her tone was quiet, but her words menacing. “Do you really believe I have led this life without threats to my person? That this man was the first to ever threaten to have his way with me? Are you that much a fool?”

She shook her head and stepped away from Alexander.

“All you've managed to do is make my life more difficult than before. How much of this is going to cost me in the long run... you have no idea. Not only will I lose customers, I'll lose some of my girls, and some of my laborers. The scandal, is a scandal, no matter what you thought you were doing. . . you stepped in when you weren't needed or desired.”

Her rage was slowly building and her voice growing more hostile and loud.

“Not only that, but the one thing I have never been forced to do under this roof, I will most likely have to do and all because that man, the one whom ushered the people out, was the Magistrate himself and he knows without a doubt you lied! He was already trying to accost me, so he knows damn well this oaf wasn't!”

She walked away, turned back and looked him in the eye.

“Pack up your things and leave my lands, or so help me God...” She pushed past four burly servants and the Magistrate, whose gaze she refused to acknowledge, though she still caught it out of the corner of her eye.

Danielle's stomach pitched and rolled as she made her way up the stairs to her chambers, pausing only long enough to order Akello to close the house for the night and to make sure all rooms were empty of everyone except the ladies in her employ. She also made sure that her body guard knew that Alexander was to be gone by morning, either by his own will, or Akello's, she didn't care which.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

~ ~ ~ Dead and no longer active ~ ~ ~
initial thread idea was mine and first post was given to co-writer​