Chapter Twelve
Nicholas
The weeks flew by, wrapped as we were in our new reverie state. We were enchanted by one another, our love made all the more precious by its secrecy.
Grace had no desire to return to Heather House, or to even look at pictures of the renovations, and I was glad of it.
Privately, deeply, glad of it. So long as Grace was willing, staying with me at Crowthorne House out of desire, she needn’t know about my true possessiveness of her.
The fatherly ways I coddled her and built her up, knowing all the time that my care for her would grow steadily into an obsession.
Just like it did with Louisa, who had as many strange and curious ways about her as Grace.
But for as long as it was a welcome one, I would take care of Grace...and I didn’t need to think of the alternative. Of what I’d do, and what loathsome creature I might transform into, if Grace ever wanted to leave here.
I saw her fascination with death, plain on her face.
The mesmerising look in her eyes when we brought the bodies in.
Grace enjoyed death. I would have no difficulty in providing her with more of those wondrous moments in a funeral home, where she could explore to her heart’s desire, feeding her enjoyment of caring for the dead.
Where else could she find such an opportunity, without fear of judgement or interference?
I would make love to Grace in the night, when the house was quiet and Margaret was downstairs in her rooms, and I would steal away in the early morning, back to my attic room, before she brought up the breakfast. I ensured Grace got a good night’s sleep, no matter how she pleaded for me to keep loving her, and no matter how difficult I found it to stop.
She needed her strength to complete her tasks with me during the day, learning the skills that this profession required, and it was my job to ensure she could do it.
Between our lovemaking sessions, I would lecture Grace on the handling of grieving clients, and we would role-play. Already her confidence bloomed, her petals unfurling before my eyes to reveal the beauty she kept hidden away inside.
That was my role, my purpose, now. Grace would grow and blossom under my charge.
She’d become a fully-fledged funeral director, she would drive, she would sell her home if she wished and invest her money with the best financial advisers I knew.
She would become a whole new person, reaching her potential in every possible way.
And she would stay with me. She would be mine, indebted to me, grateful for me, always; and I would be the same for her.
We would fill the voids within us, the ragged holes left by the people who tore pieces from us as children. Nobody would ever know Grace’s secrets, and nobody would ever know mine, while we provided shields for one another.
It was a dreary Thursday morning, the sky above London a slate grey. Grace’s suits arrived weeks ago, hanging in their plastic sheaths in Louisa’s old armoire – one of the few things that had been restored after the fire. I decided it was time we put Grace’s new skills into action.
“You’ll be in the parlour with me this morning, Grace,” I told her, watching her pale naked body as she walked with confidence to the armoire, bearing all to me, unashamed.
I was dressed already in a dark suit and paisley waistcoat, eager to start the day. Eager to move Grace along, to have her with me in every part of the business, by my side. My partner.
“You won’t be wearing your ordinary clothes this morning – not until we move on to the mortuary. Choose one of your new suits.” I smiled, knowing she’d be excited.
Grace turned to look over her shoulder, a delicate hand holding open the painted armoire door. Her slim waist was thicker than it used to be, her hips and buttocks plump and rounded. Leaving this room without running my tongue over those ample mounds would prove to be difficult.
“You really think I’m ready?” she asked.
“I know you are,” I said.
She hurried to me, cupping my face in her hands. She delved into my mouth and kissed me so sensually that I felt myself drifting from reality, drawn over her cliff-edge against the sleepy moonlight of her love.
We hadn’t used that word yet. I decided that needed to change, too.
My hands roamed her nakedness, cupping her breasts, fondling with her eager, sensitive buds. Grace sighed against my mouth. I moved a hand down to the now-molten place between her thighs, coating the tips of my fingers in her honey before I twirled and teased the swelling nub between her folds.
Soon Grace was grinding on my hand, holding me by the shoulders, her eyelids fluttering closed.
“I love you, Grace,” I said.
I watched with delirious hunger as she shuddered and released in orgasm, grinding against the waves, before weeping into my hair.
“I love you too,” she said, clutching my head to her small breasts. “More than you could ever know, sir.”
I swallowed hard against the delight that rippled through me to hear that word. The word that she knew I enjoyed, craved, to hear from her lips.
In my periphery, a flickering light commanded my attention.
I noted it, but forced myself to remain focused on Grace.
A noxious smell crept in under the terrace doors, and I closed my nose to it.
The flickering light became an orange flame, creeping around the terrace door as if following a trail of gasoline, but I ignored it still.
I had dealt with these visions long enough, for twenty years. I knew they weren’t real.
I took a deep breath and choked on the fumes that were not really there.
Grace held me to her, playing with my hair.
“What’s the matter?”
I hacked into the nook of my elbow until it abated. When I dared a glance at the balcony, the flames were gone.
“Nothing, my darling. Just a cough. We’d better to get to work. Time is moving on, and our client will be arriving at 9:00 a.m. I wanted to give you a driving lesson before we collected the body this morning.”
“Not without seeing to you, first, sir,” she said with a coy smile. “You know I log my cycles religiously. I’m outside of my ovulation window.”
I flooded with desire and stiffened obscenely, enjoying how in-command Grace was with her body, so meticulous that she could even track her cycles without the use of contraception.
No doubt it was a common technique, even a necessity, back in the dales, when it wasn’t always possible to fill prescriptions or even rely on the weather to allow for travel.
It meant that I could enjoy her, wholly, deliciously, with no barriers between us.
Grace laughed fondly as I first checked my watch.
We had time. I unbuckled my trousers and pulled them down, pants and all, and let her see what she’d done to me.
How engorged she made me. Pink flushed to Grace’s cheeks as she observed it, curling her small hand around it to feel the girth for herself.
When she eased herself onto me, her eyes fluttered shut, her breaths quickening as she adjusted to my size.
I rocked Grace first, enjoying the slick, slow sensations, before the animal in me took over.
When I could tolerate no more of the torment, I laid back and held her by the hips, bucking her harder and faster until I reached the very end of her and released.
She was so perfect, and all mine. My moans of pleasure made me breathless as I loosed my desire inside her, and Grace’s moans turned to cries in unison with me.
A sound at the door made us freeze.
We’d been careless.
“Did you hear that?” I asked, panting and still coming down.
“It was the door,” said Grace, breathing hard. Her eyes watched the door behind me uneasily, beads of sweat collecting on her chest. “It was pulled closed.”
So someone had opened it, and that someone had to be Margaret.
“Never mind,” I said, easing Grace off of me and lifting her to the floor. “Clean up now, darling, and choose which suit you’d like to wear. We’ve a busy schedule to keep today.”
“But what about – ”
“Put it out of your mind,” I said, kissing her damp forehead. “I’ll handle it.”
I left Grace to get changed, ever-mindful of the time.
The bereaved were due to arrive in 15 minutes, and I needed to get my head on straight.
We would have a driving lesson after the meeting in the parlour, and then collect the deceased together before spending the afternoon caring for the body, embalming them, and ordering the casket.
It was a heavenly schedule for Grace and, now, for me too.
I’d spent decades in a daze, only existing.
With Grace, I loved my job again. Her enthusiasm for it was inspiring.
Already she had become a professional behind the scenes, taking on the administration, making the arrangements, and learning the biological side of things; anatomy, chemical distribution, bodily care.
I couldn’t wait to see her flourish at client meetings, too. I wanted people to see her, even the bereaved. Especially the bereaved. I wanted to show her off.
I found Maggie in the kitchen, angrily loading the dishwasher with our breakfast plates.
“Do we need to have a word, Margaret?”
She paused, her lips pursed, her nose wrinkling with fury. She threw the plate down with a crack and marched towards me, wiping her hands on her apron. When she landed the smack on my cheek, I flinched, not expecting it.
“I warned you. I told you to leave that girl alone!”
“Need I remind you that you’re an employee of mine?” I asked. Maggie had taken care of me as a child, and took liberties because of it. My loyalty to her allowed it, but only so far.
Her eyes widened, nostrils flaring as she seethed.
“I am employed by the trust left by your father, along with my rights to live here for as long as I wish!”