i'm late i'm late for a very important date~!
Title: Stigmata Martyr
Author: bellumina
Person the story was written for: life_of_amesu
Rating: R
Summary: A forbidden relationship in eighteenth century England goes Not as Planned.
Word Count: 6545
Author's Notes: (optional) orz, I know this is a bit late -- the word count got out of hand, and while I intended to post yesterday, the hotel I was staying at had no internet. Fail.
So here you go!
"It is time."
The words meet his ears, but they're faded. There is a wind tunnel where his eardrums once were, and he hears the words only by divine punishment.
There is a jangle of keys, the heavy door swings open. There is no comfort in seeing a human face. Perhaps its to make their jobs easier, so they don't have to interact with the person they're about to kill. It preserves their humanity at home within the community by turning them into faceless executioners when it's time to get down to business. The mask is plain, black.
This is what death looks like.
It is time.
--
"Bankrupt, you say?"
The worst thing that could happen to a family, Jonathan thought. Bankruptcy -- and death. And the Ratcliff family, unfortunately, had their fair share of both.
"Mm, yes." The Ratcliff family lawyer had clearly forgotten his monocle; he squinted at Jonathan, as though he's trying to make out the young man's features. "I was told Mr. Thomas Ratcliff was your mentor. I was told that you would be the best person to speak to regarding the fate of his daughter."
Jonathan crossed his arms over his chest, clenching a pipe between his teeth. Daughter? Yes, he remembered her. A pretty girl with uncommon red hair, pale skins, intelligent eyes. As far as women went, she was quite the catch by virtue of her appearance alone. But she would have no suitors now; with no reputation or money to bring to the table, she would be disregarded almost entirely. Her servants would be sent away, her rich clothing and playthings pawned to greedy brokers for less than their original value.
There was no place for penniless, futureless women in this society.
"Caroline, was it?" He said, a bit nonchalantly. Dark curls fell into his eyes, and he frowned thoughtfully.
"Yes, Lord Hale." The man seemed anxious. "Her father -- he would be very upset, you see, if she was not provided for--"
"Her father is dead." Jonathan spoke bluntly. The lawyer flinched. There was an uncomfortable pause, in which Jonathan puffed on his pipe, exhaling intentionally in his guest's face. "Well, then. Even I'm not so cruel as to ignore my debt to her father. I'll see her."
"Thank you, my Lord." He bowed, even, as though to show his utmost respect, his utmost gratitude. Jonathan waved him away disinterestedly. "The carriage is waiting, if you're ready, my Lord."
Jonathan pulled on his gloves, his jacket, and followed.
The carriage ride was relatively short; the Ratcliff family estate was located only four miles from his own. It had been several years since he'd last visited, and he was surprised to see that it, like the family itself, had fallen into disrepair. "How long has it been?" Jonathan asked, frowning. "...How long since they've lacked money?"
"...A while, it seems, my Lord."
"It shows." Jonathan was unimpressed. He knocked on the door, hat held between his hands. It was not long before the door was answered by an attractive man, perhaps three or four years his junior. There was a warmth in the man's eyes, and though Jonathan had resigned himself to a dull visit, he wondered, perhaps, if that prediction was a mistake.
"Good afternoon. Welcome to the Ratcliff residence. We've been awaiting your return, Mr. Bennett." The man bowed, his back bent at a perfect angle, one hand at the doorknob, the other against his chest. He straightened, offering a host's politely blank smile. His smile brightened the gloomy atmosphere of the estate. Jonathan couldn't help but stare. "And you, good sir, are...?"
"This is Lord Jonathan Hale," Mr. Bennett introduced him hastily. "Baron of Richmond. Lord Hale, may I introduce to you the Ratcliff family servant, Geoffrey Barton." Geoffrey bowed again, chestnut hair falling into his eyes. Jonathan smiled, his expression slightly less rigid than it had been.
"A pleasure."
"Likewise, my Lord." Geoffrey stepped backwards to let them in the house. "Please, come in. I shall show you to the parlor -- the Lady of the house will be down shortly. Might I bring you some refreshments?"
"No thank you." Jonathan looked him up and down. "I ate prior to our departure."
"Have you? Oh, that's a pity." A light, musical voice came down the stairs. A flash of silk and fiery hair, and Caroline Ratcliff descended, a bright, beautiful smile gracing her features. "Baron, how good it is to see you again! It's been so long."
"Indeed it has, Lady Ratcliff." He bowed, kissing her hand out of etiquette. He felt nothing for this beautiful woman, despite her youth, her freshness, her kindness. He felt nothing for any woman, a trait he had to swallow down. It was unthinkable to desire his own sex, after all.
"Please, Lord Hale. Caroline will suffice -- Lady Ratcliff reminds me very much of my dear mother, bless her soul." A pause. "I do apologise for the state of the manor, it's..."
"I understand." Jonathan waved those apologies away. "You've been through a very rough time, as I have come to understand. Your father -- he was a very good man, you know. You have my condolences."
"I know." Caroline's eyes glistened with unshed moisture. A strong woman. Though Jonathan did not think he could ever grow to love her or any woman, she had the most chance of all. He did not favour delicate girls. He liked those who did not break so easily. "Thank you."
Their conversation was surprisingly easy; it was not as torturous as Jonathan might have believed. Geoffrey hung back, lurking in the shadows, his posture still perfect. He was attentive, attuned to his mistress's every wish. Jonathan found his eyes straying towards the corner more than necessary.
"Tell me," he said smoothly as their memories of her father faded into the dark atmosphere of the property, "do you live alone, now?"
"Oh, no!" Caroline looked almost surprised at the inquiry. "Though ... after Father's death ... I did have to send away some of the servants. Our chef left us last, just a week before. Luckily, I have Geoff." The familiar nickname was said very fondly. Jonathan leaned back; a subject he was interested in. "His family has served mine for years."
"Oh?"
"Yes. Geoff and I grew up together. He is my oldest friend, you could say. I hope this does not offend your sensibilities, Lord Hale, but ... to me, Geoff is less of a servant than a friend. If things continue in this manner ... if our financial situation does not improve, I will have to send Geoff away as well, and..." She trailed off. Beneath the table, Caroline wrung her hands.
Geoffrey stepped forward. "My Lady, you know that I would not think less of you." His voice was calm, kind. "Whatever is necessary for the good of your family -- but I need no payment. I will stay with you."
"Your loyalty is admirable," Jonathan said, arching both eyebrows. But there was a small smile on his face. Admirable, yes. Very much so. "Perhaps I could ensure that you are not separated from dear Caroline."
Geoff blinked; Caroline's eyes widened. She looked like a porcelain doll, pale blue eyes shining with childlike innocence. "But--"
"A marriage between our families would be very advantageous, would it not?"
And Caroline breathed a shaky sigh of relief, bowing her head out of the utmost respect. Her curls nearly touched the table. "Thank you, my Lord."
"Soon, then," Jonathan said, but he was not smiling at her bowed head.
It was not for her, after all, he thought, and when Geoffrey looked away, a faint tinge of pink on his cheeks, Jonathan's smile only widened.
It was not because of her.
--
The wedding was an ideal wedding; beautiful flowing fabrics for wedding dresses, a large crowd, and exquisite decorations and food. It was a grand affair, and, if Geoff said so himself, a great success.
He had done quite a bit of the manual work on his own. Though Lord Hale had chosen to help him with many of the details and Caroline had picked out her own gown, Geoffrey's work was hardly a trifling matter. During their first night together -- making an heir, Geoff supposed -- he began unpacking his belongings into his new quarters. It was strange, he thought, to see very few servants here. Perhaps Lord Hale preferred to do everything himself.
He was still unpacking at a rather late hour when the new master of the house entered the room quietly, leaning against the door. "Does this room suit you?" Came the voice, and Geoffrey, usually so calm and collected, jumped.
"My Lord! I didn't realise you'd entered." He turned around, bowing, but the man held up his hand.
"Be at ease," Lord Hale said with a laugh lurking at the corner of his mouth, waiting to be released. "I simply wondered how you enjoyed it."
The man looked, if Geoffrey was permitted to say so, thoroughly debauched. Yet, at the same time, terribly dissatisfied. "It is more than acceptable, my Lord," he said quickly, turning the subject around to matters of more concern to him. "My Lady, is she...?"
"Asleep. Weddings and their after-effects are quite tiring." He looked bored more than excited. Geoffrey almost felt offended; Caroline -- wasn't she beautiful? Intelligent? Kind? What more could a man like Jonathan Hale wish for? "Don't you think?"
"I wouldn't know, my Lord."
"Not married, are you?" The man wondered. "All the better, I suppose. Women are such useless creatures in a world of men."
With a jolt, Geoffrey realised that something was ... not quite right about this situation. "Excuse me, my Lord?" It was a bit unbalancing to realise that Jonathan Hale viewed Caroline as more of a burden than a blessing.
"Never mind." It was a dismissal. "Please, continue. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." He paused, laid a heavy hand on Geoffrey's shoulder, squeezed, and walked out of the room, leaving his newest servant in a state of mild bemusement.
--
Geoffrey woke the next morning before dawn.
There was work to be done, after all -- unpacking his mistress's belongings would take hours, and it was best to get as much done as possible before the household awoke. But first, a cup of morning tea was in order.
He was surprised upon entering the kitchen; a woman he'd not seen before was already mixing ingredients in a large ceramic bowl. She glanced up, wiry grey hair escaping its tight bun, piercing eyes focusing on Geoffrey's face critically. "I see," was all she said, and went back to mixing.
"Excuse me?" Taken aback, he blinked several times.
"You're Lord Hale's wife's servant, aren't you?" The cook did not look particularly impressed. "Can call me Mary, if you want."
Unlike Geoffrey, Mary did not seem particularly well-educated. A pity, he thought. But then, hadn't Jonathan Hale explicitly stated that he found women useless? "Geoffrey."
"Can see why he married her." She turned away, rummaging around in a cabinet for her next ingredient.
"She is a fine woman," agreed Geoff, swelling with something like pride. His mother had been the one to raise them both, and his uncle had taught them both to read, to write, to manipulate numbers. And he -- he had been the one to grow up with Caroline and lived to serve her and her family.
"He isn't interested in that." Mary's voice was rough, her tone ironic. "Can't you tell? He needs an heir, but--" she stopped speaking abruptly. "Pass me that bowl," she said quickly, and Geoffrey, baffled at the sudden subject change, did so. His confusion didn't last for very long -- footsteps announced the arrival of the man in question. Had she heard him from that far away?
"Ah, so you are awake." Jonathan Hale commented. "Your dear mistress is still asleep. Please, try not to disturb her. Mary, when she awakens, prepare a large breakfast -- show her our hospitality. Geoffrey, why don't you come along with me?"
"Yes, my Lord," said both servants in unison, and when Geoff looked over at Mary, she just tapped her nose a few times (leaving flour behind in its wake) as though to say I did try to warn you.
He followed the man down what seemed like ten or fifteen corridors to a nearly empty room. "Feel free to use this room as storage until you figure out where things ought to go." A hand descends on Geoff's back, resting heavy and warm. "Is there anything else you may need?"
"No, my Lord. You've already provided so much for us, I--"
"It's hardly a problem," Jonathan replied, cutting his thank yous off prematurely. He stroked Geoff's shoulder with his thumb, still smiling kindly. "It's been a long time since I have had male company, you understand. May I ask a favour of you?
"Anything, Lord Hale." The man's expression was almost sly; a knot of foreboding formed itself in Geoffrey's stomach.
"Grace me with your presence alone, just an hour or two a day. Take off from your duties and keep me company for that short time. Caroline will have no objections to such a minimal request, don't you agree?" The man spoke blithely. Even though his words had been phrased as a request, Geoffrey knew that it was an order. No matter -- either way, he would have agreed. Why wouldn't he? It was such an easy desire to fill, and perhaps Lord Hale was lonely. Geoffrey would not be fulfilling his duty if he did not make sure his new master was happy, after all.
"Certainly."
"Whenever I want you, I'll simply make it clear. I shall call for you or send for you through Mary or Susannah." Mary, the cook -- Susannah ... perhaps the maid? Geoffrey had not yet encountered this mysterious new girl. "Why not start immediately, hm?"
Geoffrey inclined his head. A petite figure ducked around the corner, feet padding almost silently on the wooden floor.
"I see," said Mary again, when the young girl entered, jabbing her finger in the direction of that room. "And so will he, soon enough." She turned back to her work.
"Poor thing," Mary sighed, referencing Caroline.
"Poor thing," Susannah echoed in agreement, referencing Geoffrey.
They returned to work.
--
When Geoffrey told Caroline of his future bonding sessions with the master of the household, she was ecstatic.
"Oh, good!" she said, clasping her hands together and smiling brightly. "I really am glad that you won't feel very lonely here." She seemed happy enough; the two female servants were friendly, and Jonathan was a kind husband. And, of course, she no longer had financial worries. Everything was taken care of, including herself and Geoffrey. "He's lovely, isn't he?"
hh
"Yes," Geoff agreed, but did not voice his suspicions that something about the man, the household -- something was not quite right. "He wishes to meet me now; may I get you anything first?"
Caroline waved him on, brushing out her fiery curls; Geoffrey moved into the lion's den for the first time.
During these meetings, they would converse or play chess or checkers. They were pleasant times, when Geoffrey was waited on by the other servants, when he could relax entirely. Jonathan Hale treated him as an equal rather than a servant.
"Call me Jonathan," he would say. "Lord Hale is too cumbersome and formal for my tastes."
But habit and respect kept him from using his given name; Jonathan often seemed disappointed by this, though Geoffrey couldn't fathom why.
It was only a week and a half of these hour-long sessions later when Geoffrey discovered precisely what Mary had been referring to on his first day in the Hale household.
They'd been discussing a Shakespearean production that he, Lord Hale, and Caroline had attended the evening before: the content not so much intellectual as it was their basic observations.
"It would be more believable, I think, if Ophelia's role had been played by a woman," Geoff was saying. "After all, the love scenes were not acted very authentically. Not as they could be, that is."
"Do you think so?" the nobleman mused, leaning forward and setting his glass of brandy on the table. An unfinished chess game lay in the center of the table: Jonathan's white pieces were nearly all in tact. Geoffrey's were severely depleted. "Is it a question of chemistry, I wonder?"
Geoffrey nodded. "I felt so."
And Lord Hale laughed, leaning in closer. "I don't know," he said quietly and firmly. "I believe that there can be chemistry between two men, as well." And without warning, he reached a hand out, took a gentle hold of Geoffrey's clean-shaven chin, and kissed him.
Through the blur of astonishment and immediate revulsion, Geoffrey felt an inkling of pleasure; it wasn't as bad as he could have imagined, though -- kissing another man ... it was forbidden, entirely. Geoffrey, for one, was not a rule breaker. Even so, it was...
"See?" Jonathan pulled away, warm breath against Geoffrey's lips. Geoffrey was trembling. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" His thumb stroked Geoffrey's cheek, and it was clear that Jonathan had no intention of letting him escape. "Shall we try it again?"
"L-Lord Hale!" Geoffrey panicked, finding his voice very suddenly. "I -- we can't -- this is so -- I--" Though he found his voice, he did not yet have the words to express himself. Jonathan laughed, the sound deep and easy.
"No one needs to know," he assured his reluctant partner. "The moment I saw you ... I married Caroline because of you, you know. I don't much enjoy women. But ... you're a handsome man, you know." He paused. "Anyway, no harm will come of our actions."
'But -- Caroline--" He hated himself for this; he was too distracted to form a coherent sentence.
"...Caroline indeed," the man dismissed his concerns. "We'll have an heir, remain friends. And you shall be provided for. I'll see to that. I desire this very much."
It was not a threat nor a warning, but Geoffrey knew -- he knew that if he resisted these advances, however foreign and perhaps unwelcome they were, Lord Hale would not stand for it. He swallowed down his anxiousness, his slight disgust, his confusion. "I..." he shut his eyes, squeezed them tight. "...If it pleases you, my Lord."
"It does." Jonathan smiled. "We'll give it a trial run, shall we? Take it slow. If it becomes too much, then..." Then he would stop? Geoffrey didn't know what to think. "Then you may tell me to stop."
He laughed, that rich sound bubbling up from his throat again. "But for now, do keep an open mind, won't you, Geoff?" And leaned in to press their lips together once again.
Geoffrey did.
--
He plods down the corridor with feet heavy as lead. They thud dully against the cobblestones, and the masked murders jab at his back.
"Get a move on. You're not the only one we have to hang today."
Of course not, he thinks, mouth tight with something like irony or bitterness. How selfish of him.
"Well," he says, shutting his eyes (there are black and blue bags underneath them; he hasn't slept for days). "I'd hate to mess up your schedule." He picks up the pace; the guards appreciate it, but one of them retorts,
"Shut your mouth, sodomite. We don't need any of your lip."
He opens his mouth to explain that he doesn't mean it that way, that he's genuine--
But then light floods the corridor, and for the first time in four days, he sees the light of day and it blinds him.
--
Geoffrey kept an open mind: it paid off.
It became less and less revolting with each successive caress, kiss, smile. Though there was a strong sense of guilt (was he not betraying his mistress by engaging in such activities?) he surprised himself by how little it mattered.
It wasn't love. Geoffrey was certain of that. But there were benefits to this arrangement; love was a strong word, but he cared for Lord Hale -- and his skin tingled at the idea of meeting him in private. Caroline remained obliviously happy. Sometimes, Geoff wondered if indeed she knew and didn't care; though perhaps she thought the lovebites on his neck were Susannah's doing. He didn't know.
But Jonathan didn't seem to keep it a very big secret in the household. He would rest a hand on Geoffrey's arm for longer than necessary, lean in too close, smile engagingly at him even with the other members of the household present. But Geoffrey wasn't so shameless.
"Why does this bother you so much?" Jonathan murmured one day as Geoffrey shrugs his shirt back on. "The overtness."
"My Lady..."
Jonathan eyed him with an emotion that bordered on sympathy, but did not quite reach a level of understanding. "Our marriage is one of convenience, not of love. We are fortunate to be friends, but neither of us have a romantic interest in each other. If Caroline had a lover, I would accept that easily." His fingers crept up Geoffrey's side, nose pressing against his cheek. An intimate gesture; Geoffrey had grown used to those by now, and he unconsciously leaned into the touch. Jonathan smiled, pressed his lips against his temple.
"I'm tired, today," the man admitted, arms wrapping around Geoffrey's waist. "Let's rest, hm? You've been running around a lot as well, haven't you?"
"Well -- Susannah is ill, after all," Geoffrey agreed, but was hesitant to lay the blame on any individual. He had no objections to resting quietly, to comfort, to warmth. He shut his eyes, dropped his head against Jonathan's shoulder.
What a turnaround from a week before, when Geoff had flushed, jumped out of his skin every time Jonathan came too close for comfort. Now, he accepted it all, and ... almost encouraged it. Perhaps, he wondered with no small amount of trepidation, perhaps he was not very interest in the opposite sex, either.
"It's not so strange anymore, is it?" Jonathan murmured, lips brushing against the shell of Geoff's ear. "I think that with you, rather than your mistress, there is a greater chance for love."
An admission, of sorts. Geoff swallowed uncomfortably. "Is that possible, Lord Hale?" he wondered, though his fingers curled around Jonathan's wrist. "I don't know."
"Jonathan," the other man corrected him automatically. "You are not a toy but a lover, and lovers must be more or less equal in status."
Geoffrey lifted his shoulder in a shrug and shut his eyes. "If you say so, Lord Hale," he muttered, though was unconvinced. Lovers? Perhaps. Perhaps not. He felt Jonathan was using the term rather lightly.
But his body was still a solid presence, his warmth was still a comfort, and whether or not Geoffrey would call whatever strange relationship they were nursing "love," he could no longer say that he did not want it or need it as much as Jonathan did.
--
The first time Jonathan admitted the truth was also the first time they had sex, in Geoffrey's bed, quilt thrown on the floor, moonlight spilling across the crisp white sheets, illuminating two pale, sweaty, angular bodies.
Licking sweat from Geoffrey's throat as he pushed himself in and out, in and out, as Geoffrey dug stubby fingernails into the back of Jonathan's neck and gasped out a breathless combination of pain and pleasure, Jonathan whispered:
"I love you."
And Geoffrey just arched up into him, opened his mouth to his Lord's, and without a single fleeting thought of Caroline, uttered: "Jonathan."
--
His eyes don't adjust to the brightness right away.
Trees, people, animals, buildings -- they all blur into indiscriminate blobs of colour, and he has to stop, squeeze his eyes shut, and only open them little by little.
It is then that he sees the turnout: over eighty morbidly interested people -- nearly the entire population of the town -- are waiting to see him die, as though hanging has become a spectator sport.
Up until now, he has felt so numb that he could not speak or eat or cry. Up until he sees those two horribly familiar faces, he has not cared about his pending doom.
His hands shake; his eyes blur with unshed tears; his breath comes a bit short.
He begins to feel again, all too soon.
--
Caroline broke the news one night at dinner time, glowing.
"We'll have an heir sooner than you think, Jonathan," she exclaimed. "...Oh, I do hope it's a boy."
Jonathan nearly dropped the butter dish he was passing to Geoffrey. The other man steadied it before the damage could be done. "Are you certain?" He seemed more eager than upset, as he should.
"Mm. Very certain."
"Congratulations," Geoff said sincerely, blue eyes crinkling in a smile. "You will be wonderful parents."
"And you'll be wonderful Uncle Geoff," laughed Caroline, reaching over to squeeze his hand. A dark cloud of -- something; jealousy, perhaps? -- crossed over Jonathan's face in that split instance. Geoffrey and Caroline were oblivious; Susannah and Mary looked away, pretended not to see.
Geoffrey's smile grew. Caroline let go of his hand, turning towards her husband once again. "That reminds me, Jonathan -- would it be too much to ask to speak to you in private after dinner?"
"Certainly not. In fact, if you're finished, we may go and do that now." He stood; Caroline followed suit.
Clearly -- as Caroline lead the way to a remote room that, in general, tended to go unused -- this conversation was meant to be entirely secret, between her and Jonathan. He followed warily, though his eyes darted around the room suspiciously (a hardly used, dusty guest room that Susannah often overlooked) and he asked slowly, "...What is it?"
She took a while to speak, wiping off a thin layer of dust that had been collecting for months on a wooden shelf with her pinky. When she did begin, her tone was serious, chin set stubbornly. "I know ... about you and Geoffrey, Jon."
Shock. The feeling ran up his back, rendering him rigid, frozen. Paralysed. His lips, though numb, managed to say, "--You ... know?"
"Yes."
There was a long pause. Caroline looked content to let him absorb this information until the silence stretched out for far too long. "I don't condemn your behaviour. I know ... I know that your preferences are not geared towards me, or even women in general. I may be a near decade younger than you, but I am observant." Leaning carefully against the bookshelf, she pressed one hand lightly against her slightly swollen belly. "I understand; we are not a marriage based out of love but of necessity for me and a debt for you. I don't care who you consort with -- we are friends and prospective parents, not romantic partners -- or what gender you choose."
Was she--?
Yes. She was. Accepting him for what he was, for his own preferences, for ... his transgressions. While it was not unheard of to have affairs in this day and age, it was not socially acceptable -- and more or less illegal to have relations with another of the same gender.
"Thank--" She cut him off.
"Jonathan." She paused. "...I don't care what you do, but -- I don't want you using Geoff. He is special to me, and I cannot see him hurt. I will not stand for it. So tell me this: what is he to you?"
Jonathan didn't answer, not for a long while. When he did, he exhaled his words in a sigh. "...He is not a plaything, Caroline. He is..." something far more, he left unsaid.
But Caroline was a smart girl. The corners of her thin lips quirked upwards just a little in relief. "I'm glad," she said softly, and gripped his arm gently.
"Jon, darling. Please." Her voice lowered in volume. "...Please be careful. You ... have been so overt with this liason, and while it's true that Mary, Susannah and I are very supportive of your choices, others will not be. It's ... a crime. You know that. And I cannot have either of you hurt."
The man laughed gently, prying her fingers from his sleeve. "Caroline, my dear, your concern is misplaced. I am impervious to all suspicion."
"Then think of him instead," she shot back, unfazed by his proclamation. "My cousin Amelia is visiting next week. She may be of my blood, but she is less than forgiving of these affairs. If she discovers anything..." she trailed off, fingers balling into loose fists. "If she discovers anything, everything will fall to pieces, Jon. Be cautious, for all of our sakes."
"I will," Jonathan assured her, and for the very first time, he saw something other than a pretty-but-vacant shell in the woman who had been his wife for five and a half months.
--
Amelia arrived with a bang rather than a whimper.
She did not skimp on luggage, on servants. For her alone, there were four large portmanteaus, each carried by a bland but efficient servant. "Caroline, darling!" she cried exuberantly, strawberry blonde curls bouncing as she bustled over (clad in the latest fashions, of course) to embrace her favourite cousin.
Jonathan and Geoffrey stood to the side, shoulders barely touching. "Ah, Geoff, it's been so long!" gushed Amelia, and Geoffrey pasted a polite smile on his pale face, bowing down and kissing a gloved hand. "Still as loyal as ever, I see."
"I take that as the greatest compliment, Lady Flockhart," Geoffrey responded, and Amelia removed her hand from his to look over her relative's husband.
Handsome, tall, well-dressed, wealthy, polite, hospitable? Amelia checked each trait off in her mind gleefully as they introduced themselves to one another. Caroline stood to the side, gesturing for Geoffrey to retrieve refreshments. In Amelia's presence, he was not a friend but a servant; in her mind, the two ought to never be combined.
She chatted happily away: about her husband, her brother's newest child (a baby girl named Lydia, and oh, wasn't she just the cutest thing she'd ever seen?), her newest dress -- and the comfortable, patchwork Hale family resignedly catered to her every whim.
Caroline was apologetic that night after Lydia had gone to bed. "I'm sorry she's such a bother. She never used to be this way." She hefted a sigh, patting Jonathan's hand empathetically. He rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger of the other hand. "But it will only be for another six days. We may keep a secret countdown, if that will help."
Jonathan only made a noncommittal sound. His wife peered at him beneath her ginger fringe. "...You promised, remember, to be careful."
About Geoffrey. Of course. "I remember."
"You can go without being alone for a week."
Jonathan nodded, but his body already yearned for something more than demure touches from a woman he pretended to love, for something more than the occasional brush of fingers at the dinner table from the man he did love. "I know, Caroline."
"Remember," she warned only once more, and Jonathan promised himself that he would.
--
But by the third day, he had already forgotten, had visited Geoffrey late at night to simply sit by his bed, to wake him sleepily with a kiss -- just for a few moments.
By the fourth day, they had found an excuse to go to town together, and had kissed in the back of the carriage: chastely, carefully. Geoffrey's heart had pounded erratically in terror and excitement at doing such things in public (oh, the fear of being found), and Jonathan had restrained himself admirably.
But on the fifth day, Amelia insisted on taking Caroline shopping for the unborn child in London. It was no more a few hours journey away by carriage, but it would take them all day -- and Amelia, of course, had insisted that her servants accompany her.
"They're gone," were the first words Jonathan heard the next morning as Geoffrey (ever the dutiful servant) came into the dining room with his breakfast. "They've gone to London for the day."
"Then we have all day," Jonathan said with a relieved laugh. "I'd thought I'd never free myself from her useless blathering." But he arched his eyebrows meaningfully, and Geoffrey only nodded.
But at one-thirty, the front door shut quietly, and Amelia rushed in, her voluminous skirts splattered with mud. Caroline was not far behind her. "There is a lovely fireplace in the study," Caroline volunteered as she headed towards her bedroom, searching for a change of clothes.
"Yes, yes, I'll get changed and have Douglas make a fire. Perhaps your cook could conjure up a hot pot of Earl Grey, Caroline." They went their separate ways, Amelia changing clothing quickly. Such a pity, that the rain had ruined such a potentially successful shopping expedition, she thought as she strolled briskly through the drafty hallways to the study. Strange; Douglas was nowhere to be see-- ah. Yes. He was helping the others to put away the horse and carriage. Of course. Well, Geoffrey was always around, was he not? She would head into the study (ah, there was the door), ring the bell that sat on the desk, and--
And she stopped in her tracks, baby-blue eyes widening to the size of saucers as her brain attempted to process the scene before her eyes, but it only came through in photographic, epileptic flashes:
Jonathan, his shirt half open, sleeves rolled up, arms glistening with sweat droplets. Geoffrey, his mouth open, eyes shut. Jonathan, his trousers undone. Geoffrey, his back on the floor, unclothed body arched up, legs splayed in the air unashamedly, ankles hooked over Jonathan's shoulders. Jonathan, his hips jerking rhythmically, whispering. Geoffrey, breath coming in soft pants, sporadic moans. "Harder." "Don't want to hurt you." An open mouthed kiss. Geoffrey's hand on his own--
Her voice finally burst out amidst the horror playing itself out in her mind:
"What is the meaning of this?"
Everything screeched to a halt, and Jonathan's head shot up, Geoffrey's eyes snapped open in terror. "It's--" Not what it looks like? How cliche. How ... untrue. It was exactly what it looked like.
"I -- you disgusting -- you horrible -- you belong in hell. This -- this indecency--!" She spluttered., trying to find words. "I'll be reporting this to the proper authorities, I -- we shouldn't have to live with abnormalities -- with -- with disgusting--" Her words didn't come out right. There was a threat in her voice. "I'm leaving. Expect a house call from the authorities immediately."
And she slammed the door, walks out. Geoffrey trembled: he had brought shame, disgrace to Caroline's name -- and scrambled to grab his clothes. Jonathan did not move, not even to comfort the man he had dragged with him down the path to hell.
He'd forgotten.
--
"I told you, Jon," Caroline fretted, tears in her voice, in her eyes. She wrung a piece of cloth in her hands, distraught. "I ... I knew it would come to this, oh, why couldn't you have listened..."
But she was speaking to no one at all. Jonathan had not come out of his room that night, and Geoffrey was the one who pushed open the door.
"Lady Caroline, I-- please. Forgive me. I should ... I--" Distraught. They both were.
She sniffled, blowing her nose on a handkerchief. "Oh, Geoff. I'll lose you both, now."
"I..." he was at a loss. What to say? What could he say? He was still in utter shock. "...Both ... no, but--"
"If they only take one of you ... oh, neither is a good option, neither at all." She was fretting; it was bad for her health, and Geoff wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. Her teeth were chattering from the rain, still, and she could not catch a cold, not on top of everything else. He would not allow it. "If they take you, I'll lose my closest friend, my most loyal servant." She hiccupped, a surprisingly inelegant sound. "If I lose Jonathan, our child will be shamed and fatherless, and -- I'll be ruined." She clung to Geoff's shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. "Oh, Geoff, darling, I had hoped--"
They all had. Geoff patted her back, eyes downcast. "I will not allow you to be left alone, my Lady," he told her quietly. "I will not."
But she was already crying to hard to hear any word he said.
--
The police came in the morning.
"Sodomy is a crime punishable by death," a constable said, glaring. His lip curled in disgust. "According to reliable source Miss Amelia Flockhart, wife of Roger Flockhart, you are both willing accomplices to this crime and thus will, as is fitting, be--"
"That's not true." Geoffrey spoke up firmly, still holding firmly to Caroline's arm. Jonathan, who had not said a word since the incident, stared.
"You mean to deny this eyewitness account?" The constable asked incredulously. "Don't be a fool, you cannot deny such evidence."
"No, not that." Geoffrey went on. Jonathan's eyes narrowed. Caroline looked up at him, frightened, bemused. "...I -- it was my fault. He was..." Geoffrey trailed off. Caroline suddenly understood.
"...My husband was seduced," she stated, her voice wobbling. Of course. Of course Geoffrey would take the fall. She was not foolish enough to save him now. Jonathan watched her, eyes wide in horror. "It was -- he--"
"There, there, Lady Hale," said the constable, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. "You mean to say he was innocent? He was coerced...?"
"Magicked, Constable." Caroline took out another handkerchief and pulled away from Geoffrey, grabbing Jonathan's hand. "Jonathan would never do such a thing willingly, under his own influence."
The mention of witchcraft sealed the lie.
"Then come with me, Mr. Barton," the constable told him roughly, and his two friends grabbed his arms. "No funny business before your hanging, got it? We don't need anymore social deviants running around."
Geoffrey went without a word, without a struggle. His lips were too numb to say a word, but tears welled up in his eyes. There would be no tearful goodbyes here. Not now. Not ever.
"Ge--" Jonathan began to call out in a strangled, hoarse voice, but Caroline clamped her delicate hand over her mouth. "He gave you life," she whispered, though her voice was far from steady. "He gave us both life. Don't make him regret it."
And when the door had shut, their strong stances collapsed, and they sank to their knees and cried together.
--
All things end. He knows this, and comes to terms with it in those last few moments.
He steps onto the scaffold; it's strange, he thinks, to be a martyr when no one knows or cares or even wants to know or care. The black masked man measures his throat for a noose.
He sees Jonathan and Caroline, standing in each other's arms, faces pale and sick looking. They are unnoticed by everyone but him, in the center of the crowd, and the noose goes up.
He doesn't want to die, he doesn't want to leave them behind, he wants--
But his teeth show in what might be his last smile, and his lost emotions slam back into him, causing tears to fall. He's not sure what these tears mean: relief? fear? despair? happiness? Their meaning has been lost in the mess of convoluted feelings he's suppressed.
"I," he starts to say (he's got last words, after all; the executioner waits impatiently for him to finish his sentence.)
Jonathan's mouth is moving -- too fast to see, Geoffrey can't make out the words, but he thinks it's either a prayer or (he hopes) a silent confession of love that he so desperately yearns to hear just one last time.
His smile widens.
"I don't regret it," he says. "not one bit of it."
And the floor suddenly drops out from under him, he sees Caroline turn her head into Jonathan's chest, but Jonathan's dark eyes remained fixed on his, lips still moving, until--
It all ends.
Author: bellumina
Person the story was written for: life_of_amesu
Rating: R
Summary: A forbidden relationship in eighteenth century England goes Not as Planned.
Word Count: 6545
Author's Notes: (optional) orz, I know this is a bit late -- the word count got out of hand, and while I intended to post yesterday, the hotel I was staying at had no internet. Fail.
So here you go!
"It is time."
The words meet his ears, but they're faded. There is a wind tunnel where his eardrums once were, and he hears the words only by divine punishment.
There is a jangle of keys, the heavy door swings open. There is no comfort in seeing a human face. Perhaps its to make their jobs easier, so they don't have to interact with the person they're about to kill. It preserves their humanity at home within the community by turning them into faceless executioners when it's time to get down to business. The mask is plain, black.
This is what death looks like.
It is time.
--
"Bankrupt, you say?"
The worst thing that could happen to a family, Jonathan thought. Bankruptcy -- and death. And the Ratcliff family, unfortunately, had their fair share of both.
"Mm, yes." The Ratcliff family lawyer had clearly forgotten his monocle; he squinted at Jonathan, as though he's trying to make out the young man's features. "I was told Mr. Thomas Ratcliff was your mentor. I was told that you would be the best person to speak to regarding the fate of his daughter."
Jonathan crossed his arms over his chest, clenching a pipe between his teeth. Daughter? Yes, he remembered her. A pretty girl with uncommon red hair, pale skins, intelligent eyes. As far as women went, she was quite the catch by virtue of her appearance alone. But she would have no suitors now; with no reputation or money to bring to the table, she would be disregarded almost entirely. Her servants would be sent away, her rich clothing and playthings pawned to greedy brokers for less than their original value.
There was no place for penniless, futureless women in this society.
"Caroline, was it?" He said, a bit nonchalantly. Dark curls fell into his eyes, and he frowned thoughtfully.
"Yes, Lord Hale." The man seemed anxious. "Her father -- he would be very upset, you see, if she was not provided for--"
"Her father is dead." Jonathan spoke bluntly. The lawyer flinched. There was an uncomfortable pause, in which Jonathan puffed on his pipe, exhaling intentionally in his guest's face. "Well, then. Even I'm not so cruel as to ignore my debt to her father. I'll see her."
"Thank you, my Lord." He bowed, even, as though to show his utmost respect, his utmost gratitude. Jonathan waved him away disinterestedly. "The carriage is waiting, if you're ready, my Lord."
Jonathan pulled on his gloves, his jacket, and followed.
The carriage ride was relatively short; the Ratcliff family estate was located only four miles from his own. It had been several years since he'd last visited, and he was surprised to see that it, like the family itself, had fallen into disrepair. "How long has it been?" Jonathan asked, frowning. "...How long since they've lacked money?"
"...A while, it seems, my Lord."
"It shows." Jonathan was unimpressed. He knocked on the door, hat held between his hands. It was not long before the door was answered by an attractive man, perhaps three or four years his junior. There was a warmth in the man's eyes, and though Jonathan had resigned himself to a dull visit, he wondered, perhaps, if that prediction was a mistake.
"Good afternoon. Welcome to the Ratcliff residence. We've been awaiting your return, Mr. Bennett." The man bowed, his back bent at a perfect angle, one hand at the doorknob, the other against his chest. He straightened, offering a host's politely blank smile. His smile brightened the gloomy atmosphere of the estate. Jonathan couldn't help but stare. "And you, good sir, are...?"
"This is Lord Jonathan Hale," Mr. Bennett introduced him hastily. "Baron of Richmond. Lord Hale, may I introduce to you the Ratcliff family servant, Geoffrey Barton." Geoffrey bowed again, chestnut hair falling into his eyes. Jonathan smiled, his expression slightly less rigid than it had been.
"A pleasure."
"Likewise, my Lord." Geoffrey stepped backwards to let them in the house. "Please, come in. I shall show you to the parlor -- the Lady of the house will be down shortly. Might I bring you some refreshments?"
"No thank you." Jonathan looked him up and down. "I ate prior to our departure."
"Have you? Oh, that's a pity." A light, musical voice came down the stairs. A flash of silk and fiery hair, and Caroline Ratcliff descended, a bright, beautiful smile gracing her features. "Baron, how good it is to see you again! It's been so long."
"Indeed it has, Lady Ratcliff." He bowed, kissing her hand out of etiquette. He felt nothing for this beautiful woman, despite her youth, her freshness, her kindness. He felt nothing for any woman, a trait he had to swallow down. It was unthinkable to desire his own sex, after all.
"Please, Lord Hale. Caroline will suffice -- Lady Ratcliff reminds me very much of my dear mother, bless her soul." A pause. "I do apologise for the state of the manor, it's..."
"I understand." Jonathan waved those apologies away. "You've been through a very rough time, as I have come to understand. Your father -- he was a very good man, you know. You have my condolences."
"I know." Caroline's eyes glistened with unshed moisture. A strong woman. Though Jonathan did not think he could ever grow to love her or any woman, she had the most chance of all. He did not favour delicate girls. He liked those who did not break so easily. "Thank you."
Their conversation was surprisingly easy; it was not as torturous as Jonathan might have believed. Geoffrey hung back, lurking in the shadows, his posture still perfect. He was attentive, attuned to his mistress's every wish. Jonathan found his eyes straying towards the corner more than necessary.
"Tell me," he said smoothly as their memories of her father faded into the dark atmosphere of the property, "do you live alone, now?"
"Oh, no!" Caroline looked almost surprised at the inquiry. "Though ... after Father's death ... I did have to send away some of the servants. Our chef left us last, just a week before. Luckily, I have Geoff." The familiar nickname was said very fondly. Jonathan leaned back; a subject he was interested in. "His family has served mine for years."
"Oh?"
"Yes. Geoff and I grew up together. He is my oldest friend, you could say. I hope this does not offend your sensibilities, Lord Hale, but ... to me, Geoff is less of a servant than a friend. If things continue in this manner ... if our financial situation does not improve, I will have to send Geoff away as well, and..." She trailed off. Beneath the table, Caroline wrung her hands.
Geoffrey stepped forward. "My Lady, you know that I would not think less of you." His voice was calm, kind. "Whatever is necessary for the good of your family -- but I need no payment. I will stay with you."
"Your loyalty is admirable," Jonathan said, arching both eyebrows. But there was a small smile on his face. Admirable, yes. Very much so. "Perhaps I could ensure that you are not separated from dear Caroline."
Geoff blinked; Caroline's eyes widened. She looked like a porcelain doll, pale blue eyes shining with childlike innocence. "But--"
"A marriage between our families would be very advantageous, would it not?"
And Caroline breathed a shaky sigh of relief, bowing her head out of the utmost respect. Her curls nearly touched the table. "Thank you, my Lord."
"Soon, then," Jonathan said, but he was not smiling at her bowed head.
It was not for her, after all, he thought, and when Geoffrey looked away, a faint tinge of pink on his cheeks, Jonathan's smile only widened.
It was not because of her.
--
The wedding was an ideal wedding; beautiful flowing fabrics for wedding dresses, a large crowd, and exquisite decorations and food. It was a grand affair, and, if Geoff said so himself, a great success.
He had done quite a bit of the manual work on his own. Though Lord Hale had chosen to help him with many of the details and Caroline had picked out her own gown, Geoffrey's work was hardly a trifling matter. During their first night together -- making an heir, Geoff supposed -- he began unpacking his belongings into his new quarters. It was strange, he thought, to see very few servants here. Perhaps Lord Hale preferred to do everything himself.
He was still unpacking at a rather late hour when the new master of the house entered the room quietly, leaning against the door. "Does this room suit you?" Came the voice, and Geoffrey, usually so calm and collected, jumped.
"My Lord! I didn't realise you'd entered." He turned around, bowing, but the man held up his hand.
"Be at ease," Lord Hale said with a laugh lurking at the corner of his mouth, waiting to be released. "I simply wondered how you enjoyed it."
The man looked, if Geoffrey was permitted to say so, thoroughly debauched. Yet, at the same time, terribly dissatisfied. "It is more than acceptable, my Lord," he said quickly, turning the subject around to matters of more concern to him. "My Lady, is she...?"
"Asleep. Weddings and their after-effects are quite tiring." He looked bored more than excited. Geoffrey almost felt offended; Caroline -- wasn't she beautiful? Intelligent? Kind? What more could a man like Jonathan Hale wish for? "Don't you think?"
"I wouldn't know, my Lord."
"Not married, are you?" The man wondered. "All the better, I suppose. Women are such useless creatures in a world of men."
With a jolt, Geoffrey realised that something was ... not quite right about this situation. "Excuse me, my Lord?" It was a bit unbalancing to realise that Jonathan Hale viewed Caroline as more of a burden than a blessing.
"Never mind." It was a dismissal. "Please, continue. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." He paused, laid a heavy hand on Geoffrey's shoulder, squeezed, and walked out of the room, leaving his newest servant in a state of mild bemusement.
--
Geoffrey woke the next morning before dawn.
There was work to be done, after all -- unpacking his mistress's belongings would take hours, and it was best to get as much done as possible before the household awoke. But first, a cup of morning tea was in order.
He was surprised upon entering the kitchen; a woman he'd not seen before was already mixing ingredients in a large ceramic bowl. She glanced up, wiry grey hair escaping its tight bun, piercing eyes focusing on Geoffrey's face critically. "I see," was all she said, and went back to mixing.
"Excuse me?" Taken aback, he blinked several times.
"You're Lord Hale's wife's servant, aren't you?" The cook did not look particularly impressed. "Can call me Mary, if you want."
Unlike Geoffrey, Mary did not seem particularly well-educated. A pity, he thought. But then, hadn't Jonathan Hale explicitly stated that he found women useless? "Geoffrey."
"Can see why he married her." She turned away, rummaging around in a cabinet for her next ingredient.
"She is a fine woman," agreed Geoff, swelling with something like pride. His mother had been the one to raise them both, and his uncle had taught them both to read, to write, to manipulate numbers. And he -- he had been the one to grow up with Caroline and lived to serve her and her family.
"He isn't interested in that." Mary's voice was rough, her tone ironic. "Can't you tell? He needs an heir, but--" she stopped speaking abruptly. "Pass me that bowl," she said quickly, and Geoffrey, baffled at the sudden subject change, did so. His confusion didn't last for very long -- footsteps announced the arrival of the man in question. Had she heard him from that far away?
"Ah, so you are awake." Jonathan Hale commented. "Your dear mistress is still asleep. Please, try not to disturb her. Mary, when she awakens, prepare a large breakfast -- show her our hospitality. Geoffrey, why don't you come along with me?"
"Yes, my Lord," said both servants in unison, and when Geoff looked over at Mary, she just tapped her nose a few times (leaving flour behind in its wake) as though to say I did try to warn you.
He followed the man down what seemed like ten or fifteen corridors to a nearly empty room. "Feel free to use this room as storage until you figure out where things ought to go." A hand descends on Geoff's back, resting heavy and warm. "Is there anything else you may need?"
"No, my Lord. You've already provided so much for us, I--"
"It's hardly a problem," Jonathan replied, cutting his thank yous off prematurely. He stroked Geoff's shoulder with his thumb, still smiling kindly. "It's been a long time since I have had male company, you understand. May I ask a favour of you?
"Anything, Lord Hale." The man's expression was almost sly; a knot of foreboding formed itself in Geoffrey's stomach.
"Grace me with your presence alone, just an hour or two a day. Take off from your duties and keep me company for that short time. Caroline will have no objections to such a minimal request, don't you agree?" The man spoke blithely. Even though his words had been phrased as a request, Geoffrey knew that it was an order. No matter -- either way, he would have agreed. Why wouldn't he? It was such an easy desire to fill, and perhaps Lord Hale was lonely. Geoffrey would not be fulfilling his duty if he did not make sure his new master was happy, after all.
"Certainly."
"Whenever I want you, I'll simply make it clear. I shall call for you or send for you through Mary or Susannah." Mary, the cook -- Susannah ... perhaps the maid? Geoffrey had not yet encountered this mysterious new girl. "Why not start immediately, hm?"
Geoffrey inclined his head. A petite figure ducked around the corner, feet padding almost silently on the wooden floor.
"I see," said Mary again, when the young girl entered, jabbing her finger in the direction of that room. "And so will he, soon enough." She turned back to her work.
"Poor thing," Mary sighed, referencing Caroline.
"Poor thing," Susannah echoed in agreement, referencing Geoffrey.
They returned to work.
--
When Geoffrey told Caroline of his future bonding sessions with the master of the household, she was ecstatic.
"Oh, good!" she said, clasping her hands together and smiling brightly. "I really am glad that you won't feel very lonely here." She seemed happy enough; the two female servants were friendly, and Jonathan was a kind husband. And, of course, she no longer had financial worries. Everything was taken care of, including herself and Geoffrey. "He's lovely, isn't he?"
hh
"Yes," Geoff agreed, but did not voice his suspicions that something about the man, the household -- something was not quite right. "He wishes to meet me now; may I get you anything first?"
Caroline waved him on, brushing out her fiery curls; Geoffrey moved into the lion's den for the first time.
During these meetings, they would converse or play chess or checkers. They were pleasant times, when Geoffrey was waited on by the other servants, when he could relax entirely. Jonathan Hale treated him as an equal rather than a servant.
"Call me Jonathan," he would say. "Lord Hale is too cumbersome and formal for my tastes."
But habit and respect kept him from using his given name; Jonathan often seemed disappointed by this, though Geoffrey couldn't fathom why.
It was only a week and a half of these hour-long sessions later when Geoffrey discovered precisely what Mary had been referring to on his first day in the Hale household.
They'd been discussing a Shakespearean production that he, Lord Hale, and Caroline had attended the evening before: the content not so much intellectual as it was their basic observations.
"It would be more believable, I think, if Ophelia's role had been played by a woman," Geoff was saying. "After all, the love scenes were not acted very authentically. Not as they could be, that is."
"Do you think so?" the nobleman mused, leaning forward and setting his glass of brandy on the table. An unfinished chess game lay in the center of the table: Jonathan's white pieces were nearly all in tact. Geoffrey's were severely depleted. "Is it a question of chemistry, I wonder?"
Geoffrey nodded. "I felt so."
And Lord Hale laughed, leaning in closer. "I don't know," he said quietly and firmly. "I believe that there can be chemistry between two men, as well." And without warning, he reached a hand out, took a gentle hold of Geoffrey's clean-shaven chin, and kissed him.
Through the blur of astonishment and immediate revulsion, Geoffrey felt an inkling of pleasure; it wasn't as bad as he could have imagined, though -- kissing another man ... it was forbidden, entirely. Geoffrey, for one, was not a rule breaker. Even so, it was...
"See?" Jonathan pulled away, warm breath against Geoffrey's lips. Geoffrey was trembling. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" His thumb stroked Geoffrey's cheek, and it was clear that Jonathan had no intention of letting him escape. "Shall we try it again?"
"L-Lord Hale!" Geoffrey panicked, finding his voice very suddenly. "I -- we can't -- this is so -- I--" Though he found his voice, he did not yet have the words to express himself. Jonathan laughed, the sound deep and easy.
"No one needs to know," he assured his reluctant partner. "The moment I saw you ... I married Caroline because of you, you know. I don't much enjoy women. But ... you're a handsome man, you know." He paused. "Anyway, no harm will come of our actions."
'But -- Caroline--" He hated himself for this; he was too distracted to form a coherent sentence.
"...Caroline indeed," the man dismissed his concerns. "We'll have an heir, remain friends. And you shall be provided for. I'll see to that. I desire this very much."
It was not a threat nor a warning, but Geoffrey knew -- he knew that if he resisted these advances, however foreign and perhaps unwelcome they were, Lord Hale would not stand for it. He swallowed down his anxiousness, his slight disgust, his confusion. "I..." he shut his eyes, squeezed them tight. "...If it pleases you, my Lord."
"It does." Jonathan smiled. "We'll give it a trial run, shall we? Take it slow. If it becomes too much, then..." Then he would stop? Geoffrey didn't know what to think. "Then you may tell me to stop."
He laughed, that rich sound bubbling up from his throat again. "But for now, do keep an open mind, won't you, Geoff?" And leaned in to press their lips together once again.
Geoffrey did.
--
He plods down the corridor with feet heavy as lead. They thud dully against the cobblestones, and the masked murders jab at his back.
"Get a move on. You're not the only one we have to hang today."
Of course not, he thinks, mouth tight with something like irony or bitterness. How selfish of him.
"Well," he says, shutting his eyes (there are black and blue bags underneath them; he hasn't slept for days). "I'd hate to mess up your schedule." He picks up the pace; the guards appreciate it, but one of them retorts,
"Shut your mouth, sodomite. We don't need any of your lip."
He opens his mouth to explain that he doesn't mean it that way, that he's genuine--
But then light floods the corridor, and for the first time in four days, he sees the light of day and it blinds him.
--
Geoffrey kept an open mind: it paid off.
It became less and less revolting with each successive caress, kiss, smile. Though there was a strong sense of guilt (was he not betraying his mistress by engaging in such activities?) he surprised himself by how little it mattered.
It wasn't love. Geoffrey was certain of that. But there were benefits to this arrangement; love was a strong word, but he cared for Lord Hale -- and his skin tingled at the idea of meeting him in private. Caroline remained obliviously happy. Sometimes, Geoff wondered if indeed she knew and didn't care; though perhaps she thought the lovebites on his neck were Susannah's doing. He didn't know.
But Jonathan didn't seem to keep it a very big secret in the household. He would rest a hand on Geoffrey's arm for longer than necessary, lean in too close, smile engagingly at him even with the other members of the household present. But Geoffrey wasn't so shameless.
"Why does this bother you so much?" Jonathan murmured one day as Geoffrey shrugs his shirt back on. "The overtness."
"My Lady..."
Jonathan eyed him with an emotion that bordered on sympathy, but did not quite reach a level of understanding. "Our marriage is one of convenience, not of love. We are fortunate to be friends, but neither of us have a romantic interest in each other. If Caroline had a lover, I would accept that easily." His fingers crept up Geoffrey's side, nose pressing against his cheek. An intimate gesture; Geoffrey had grown used to those by now, and he unconsciously leaned into the touch. Jonathan smiled, pressed his lips against his temple.
"I'm tired, today," the man admitted, arms wrapping around Geoffrey's waist. "Let's rest, hm? You've been running around a lot as well, haven't you?"
"Well -- Susannah is ill, after all," Geoffrey agreed, but was hesitant to lay the blame on any individual. He had no objections to resting quietly, to comfort, to warmth. He shut his eyes, dropped his head against Jonathan's shoulder.
What a turnaround from a week before, when Geoff had flushed, jumped out of his skin every time Jonathan came too close for comfort. Now, he accepted it all, and ... almost encouraged it. Perhaps, he wondered with no small amount of trepidation, perhaps he was not very interest in the opposite sex, either.
"It's not so strange anymore, is it?" Jonathan murmured, lips brushing against the shell of Geoff's ear. "I think that with you, rather than your mistress, there is a greater chance for love."
An admission, of sorts. Geoff swallowed uncomfortably. "Is that possible, Lord Hale?" he wondered, though his fingers curled around Jonathan's wrist. "I don't know."
"Jonathan," the other man corrected him automatically. "You are not a toy but a lover, and lovers must be more or less equal in status."
Geoffrey lifted his shoulder in a shrug and shut his eyes. "If you say so, Lord Hale," he muttered, though was unconvinced. Lovers? Perhaps. Perhaps not. He felt Jonathan was using the term rather lightly.
But his body was still a solid presence, his warmth was still a comfort, and whether or not Geoffrey would call whatever strange relationship they were nursing "love," he could no longer say that he did not want it or need it as much as Jonathan did.
--
The first time Jonathan admitted the truth was also the first time they had sex, in Geoffrey's bed, quilt thrown on the floor, moonlight spilling across the crisp white sheets, illuminating two pale, sweaty, angular bodies.
Licking sweat from Geoffrey's throat as he pushed himself in and out, in and out, as Geoffrey dug stubby fingernails into the back of Jonathan's neck and gasped out a breathless combination of pain and pleasure, Jonathan whispered:
"I love you."
And Geoffrey just arched up into him, opened his mouth to his Lord's, and without a single fleeting thought of Caroline, uttered: "Jonathan."
--
His eyes don't adjust to the brightness right away.
Trees, people, animals, buildings -- they all blur into indiscriminate blobs of colour, and he has to stop, squeeze his eyes shut, and only open them little by little.
It is then that he sees the turnout: over eighty morbidly interested people -- nearly the entire population of the town -- are waiting to see him die, as though hanging has become a spectator sport.
Up until now, he has felt so numb that he could not speak or eat or cry. Up until he sees those two horribly familiar faces, he has not cared about his pending doom.
His hands shake; his eyes blur with unshed tears; his breath comes a bit short.
He begins to feel again, all too soon.
--
Caroline broke the news one night at dinner time, glowing.
"We'll have an heir sooner than you think, Jonathan," she exclaimed. "...Oh, I do hope it's a boy."
Jonathan nearly dropped the butter dish he was passing to Geoffrey. The other man steadied it before the damage could be done. "Are you certain?" He seemed more eager than upset, as he should.
"Mm. Very certain."
"Congratulations," Geoff said sincerely, blue eyes crinkling in a smile. "You will be wonderful parents."
"And you'll be wonderful Uncle Geoff," laughed Caroline, reaching over to squeeze his hand. A dark cloud of -- something; jealousy, perhaps? -- crossed over Jonathan's face in that split instance. Geoffrey and Caroline were oblivious; Susannah and Mary looked away, pretended not to see.
Geoffrey's smile grew. Caroline let go of his hand, turning towards her husband once again. "That reminds me, Jonathan -- would it be too much to ask to speak to you in private after dinner?"
"Certainly not. In fact, if you're finished, we may go and do that now." He stood; Caroline followed suit.
Clearly -- as Caroline lead the way to a remote room that, in general, tended to go unused -- this conversation was meant to be entirely secret, between her and Jonathan. He followed warily, though his eyes darted around the room suspiciously (a hardly used, dusty guest room that Susannah often overlooked) and he asked slowly, "...What is it?"
She took a while to speak, wiping off a thin layer of dust that had been collecting for months on a wooden shelf with her pinky. When she did begin, her tone was serious, chin set stubbornly. "I know ... about you and Geoffrey, Jon."
Shock. The feeling ran up his back, rendering him rigid, frozen. Paralysed. His lips, though numb, managed to say, "--You ... know?"
"Yes."
There was a long pause. Caroline looked content to let him absorb this information until the silence stretched out for far too long. "I don't condemn your behaviour. I know ... I know that your preferences are not geared towards me, or even women in general. I may be a near decade younger than you, but I am observant." Leaning carefully against the bookshelf, she pressed one hand lightly against her slightly swollen belly. "I understand; we are not a marriage based out of love but of necessity for me and a debt for you. I don't care who you consort with -- we are friends and prospective parents, not romantic partners -- or what gender you choose."
Was she--?
Yes. She was. Accepting him for what he was, for his own preferences, for ... his transgressions. While it was not unheard of to have affairs in this day and age, it was not socially acceptable -- and more or less illegal to have relations with another of the same gender.
"Thank--" She cut him off.
"Jonathan." She paused. "...I don't care what you do, but -- I don't want you using Geoff. He is special to me, and I cannot see him hurt. I will not stand for it. So tell me this: what is he to you?"
Jonathan didn't answer, not for a long while. When he did, he exhaled his words in a sigh. "...He is not a plaything, Caroline. He is..." something far more, he left unsaid.
But Caroline was a smart girl. The corners of her thin lips quirked upwards just a little in relief. "I'm glad," she said softly, and gripped his arm gently.
"Jon, darling. Please." Her voice lowered in volume. "...Please be careful. You ... have been so overt with this liason, and while it's true that Mary, Susannah and I are very supportive of your choices, others will not be. It's ... a crime. You know that. And I cannot have either of you hurt."
The man laughed gently, prying her fingers from his sleeve. "Caroline, my dear, your concern is misplaced. I am impervious to all suspicion."
"Then think of him instead," she shot back, unfazed by his proclamation. "My cousin Amelia is visiting next week. She may be of my blood, but she is less than forgiving of these affairs. If she discovers anything..." she trailed off, fingers balling into loose fists. "If she discovers anything, everything will fall to pieces, Jon. Be cautious, for all of our sakes."
"I will," Jonathan assured her, and for the very first time, he saw something other than a pretty-but-vacant shell in the woman who had been his wife for five and a half months.
--
Amelia arrived with a bang rather than a whimper.
She did not skimp on luggage, on servants. For her alone, there were four large portmanteaus, each carried by a bland but efficient servant. "Caroline, darling!" she cried exuberantly, strawberry blonde curls bouncing as she bustled over (clad in the latest fashions, of course) to embrace her favourite cousin.
Jonathan and Geoffrey stood to the side, shoulders barely touching. "Ah, Geoff, it's been so long!" gushed Amelia, and Geoffrey pasted a polite smile on his pale face, bowing down and kissing a gloved hand. "Still as loyal as ever, I see."
"I take that as the greatest compliment, Lady Flockhart," Geoffrey responded, and Amelia removed her hand from his to look over her relative's husband.
Handsome, tall, well-dressed, wealthy, polite, hospitable? Amelia checked each trait off in her mind gleefully as they introduced themselves to one another. Caroline stood to the side, gesturing for Geoffrey to retrieve refreshments. In Amelia's presence, he was not a friend but a servant; in her mind, the two ought to never be combined.
She chatted happily away: about her husband, her brother's newest child (a baby girl named Lydia, and oh, wasn't she just the cutest thing she'd ever seen?), her newest dress -- and the comfortable, patchwork Hale family resignedly catered to her every whim.
Caroline was apologetic that night after Lydia had gone to bed. "I'm sorry she's such a bother. She never used to be this way." She hefted a sigh, patting Jonathan's hand empathetically. He rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger of the other hand. "But it will only be for another six days. We may keep a secret countdown, if that will help."
Jonathan only made a noncommittal sound. His wife peered at him beneath her ginger fringe. "...You promised, remember, to be careful."
About Geoffrey. Of course. "I remember."
"You can go without being alone for a week."
Jonathan nodded, but his body already yearned for something more than demure touches from a woman he pretended to love, for something more than the occasional brush of fingers at the dinner table from the man he did love. "I know, Caroline."
"Remember," she warned only once more, and Jonathan promised himself that he would.
--
But by the third day, he had already forgotten, had visited Geoffrey late at night to simply sit by his bed, to wake him sleepily with a kiss -- just for a few moments.
By the fourth day, they had found an excuse to go to town together, and had kissed in the back of the carriage: chastely, carefully. Geoffrey's heart had pounded erratically in terror and excitement at doing such things in public (oh, the fear of being found), and Jonathan had restrained himself admirably.
But on the fifth day, Amelia insisted on taking Caroline shopping for the unborn child in London. It was no more a few hours journey away by carriage, but it would take them all day -- and Amelia, of course, had insisted that her servants accompany her.
"They're gone," were the first words Jonathan heard the next morning as Geoffrey (ever the dutiful servant) came into the dining room with his breakfast. "They've gone to London for the day."
"Then we have all day," Jonathan said with a relieved laugh. "I'd thought I'd never free myself from her useless blathering." But he arched his eyebrows meaningfully, and Geoffrey only nodded.
But at one-thirty, the front door shut quietly, and Amelia rushed in, her voluminous skirts splattered with mud. Caroline was not far behind her. "There is a lovely fireplace in the study," Caroline volunteered as she headed towards her bedroom, searching for a change of clothes.
"Yes, yes, I'll get changed and have Douglas make a fire. Perhaps your cook could conjure up a hot pot of Earl Grey, Caroline." They went their separate ways, Amelia changing clothing quickly. Such a pity, that the rain had ruined such a potentially successful shopping expedition, she thought as she strolled briskly through the drafty hallways to the study. Strange; Douglas was nowhere to be see-- ah. Yes. He was helping the others to put away the horse and carriage. Of course. Well, Geoffrey was always around, was he not? She would head into the study (ah, there was the door), ring the bell that sat on the desk, and--
And she stopped in her tracks, baby-blue eyes widening to the size of saucers as her brain attempted to process the scene before her eyes, but it only came through in photographic, epileptic flashes:
Jonathan, his shirt half open, sleeves rolled up, arms glistening with sweat droplets. Geoffrey, his mouth open, eyes shut. Jonathan, his trousers undone. Geoffrey, his back on the floor, unclothed body arched up, legs splayed in the air unashamedly, ankles hooked over Jonathan's shoulders. Jonathan, his hips jerking rhythmically, whispering. Geoffrey, breath coming in soft pants, sporadic moans. "Harder." "Don't want to hurt you." An open mouthed kiss. Geoffrey's hand on his own--
Her voice finally burst out amidst the horror playing itself out in her mind:
"What is the meaning of this?"
Everything screeched to a halt, and Jonathan's head shot up, Geoffrey's eyes snapped open in terror. "It's--" Not what it looks like? How cliche. How ... untrue. It was exactly what it looked like.
"I -- you disgusting -- you horrible -- you belong in hell. This -- this indecency--!" She spluttered., trying to find words. "I'll be reporting this to the proper authorities, I -- we shouldn't have to live with abnormalities -- with -- with disgusting--" Her words didn't come out right. There was a threat in her voice. "I'm leaving. Expect a house call from the authorities immediately."
And she slammed the door, walks out. Geoffrey trembled: he had brought shame, disgrace to Caroline's name -- and scrambled to grab his clothes. Jonathan did not move, not even to comfort the man he had dragged with him down the path to hell.
He'd forgotten.
--
"I told you, Jon," Caroline fretted, tears in her voice, in her eyes. She wrung a piece of cloth in her hands, distraught. "I ... I knew it would come to this, oh, why couldn't you have listened..."
But she was speaking to no one at all. Jonathan had not come out of his room that night, and Geoffrey was the one who pushed open the door.
"Lady Caroline, I-- please. Forgive me. I should ... I--" Distraught. They both were.
She sniffled, blowing her nose on a handkerchief. "Oh, Geoff. I'll lose you both, now."
"I..." he was at a loss. What to say? What could he say? He was still in utter shock. "...Both ... no, but--"
"If they only take one of you ... oh, neither is a good option, neither at all." She was fretting; it was bad for her health, and Geoff wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. Her teeth were chattering from the rain, still, and she could not catch a cold, not on top of everything else. He would not allow it. "If they take you, I'll lose my closest friend, my most loyal servant." She hiccupped, a surprisingly inelegant sound. "If I lose Jonathan, our child will be shamed and fatherless, and -- I'll be ruined." She clung to Geoff's shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. "Oh, Geoff, darling, I had hoped--"
They all had. Geoff patted her back, eyes downcast. "I will not allow you to be left alone, my Lady," he told her quietly. "I will not."
But she was already crying to hard to hear any word he said.
--
The police came in the morning.
"Sodomy is a crime punishable by death," a constable said, glaring. His lip curled in disgust. "According to reliable source Miss Amelia Flockhart, wife of Roger Flockhart, you are both willing accomplices to this crime and thus will, as is fitting, be--"
"That's not true." Geoffrey spoke up firmly, still holding firmly to Caroline's arm. Jonathan, who had not said a word since the incident, stared.
"You mean to deny this eyewitness account?" The constable asked incredulously. "Don't be a fool, you cannot deny such evidence."
"No, not that." Geoffrey went on. Jonathan's eyes narrowed. Caroline looked up at him, frightened, bemused. "...I -- it was my fault. He was..." Geoffrey trailed off. Caroline suddenly understood.
"...My husband was seduced," she stated, her voice wobbling. Of course. Of course Geoffrey would take the fall. She was not foolish enough to save him now. Jonathan watched her, eyes wide in horror. "It was -- he--"
"There, there, Lady Hale," said the constable, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. "You mean to say he was innocent? He was coerced...?"
"Magicked, Constable." Caroline took out another handkerchief and pulled away from Geoffrey, grabbing Jonathan's hand. "Jonathan would never do such a thing willingly, under his own influence."
The mention of witchcraft sealed the lie.
"Then come with me, Mr. Barton," the constable told him roughly, and his two friends grabbed his arms. "No funny business before your hanging, got it? We don't need anymore social deviants running around."
Geoffrey went without a word, without a struggle. His lips were too numb to say a word, but tears welled up in his eyes. There would be no tearful goodbyes here. Not now. Not ever.
"Ge--" Jonathan began to call out in a strangled, hoarse voice, but Caroline clamped her delicate hand over her mouth. "He gave you life," she whispered, though her voice was far from steady. "He gave us both life. Don't make him regret it."
And when the door had shut, their strong stances collapsed, and they sank to their knees and cried together.
--
All things end. He knows this, and comes to terms with it in those last few moments.
He steps onto the scaffold; it's strange, he thinks, to be a martyr when no one knows or cares or even wants to know or care. The black masked man measures his throat for a noose.
He sees Jonathan and Caroline, standing in each other's arms, faces pale and sick looking. They are unnoticed by everyone but him, in the center of the crowd, and the noose goes up.
He doesn't want to die, he doesn't want to leave them behind, he wants--
But his teeth show in what might be his last smile, and his lost emotions slam back into him, causing tears to fall. He's not sure what these tears mean: relief? fear? despair? happiness? Their meaning has been lost in the mess of convoluted feelings he's suppressed.
"I," he starts to say (he's got last words, after all; the executioner waits impatiently for him to finish his sentence.)
Jonathan's mouth is moving -- too fast to see, Geoffrey can't make out the words, but he thinks it's either a prayer or (he hopes) a silent confession of love that he so desperately yearns to hear just one last time.
His smile widens.
"I don't regret it," he says. "not one bit of it."
And the floor suddenly drops out from under him, he sees Caroline turn her head into Jonathan's chest, but Jonathan's dark eyes remained fixed on his, lips still moving, until--
It all ends.