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Time To Go

 
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Constance Stanley
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Joined: 17 May 2017
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PostPosted: Tue May 30, 2017 10:40 am    Post subject: Time To Go Reply with quote

September, 1887

One week and one day after the wedding of Lawrence Grey to Clare King, Arden Manor was quiet. The staff went about their business, keeping the place clean as hired workers toiled on finishing the repairs and decorations that had been decided upon just a month before. It was no surprise for them to find Lady Constance Stanley arriving - she often kept house for her brother, and it was not beyond belief that she should want to make sure everything would be in order for his return with his wife. Perhaps some of them were surprised that she had brought with her only a small trunk, but none dared to remark on it. Nor did they pass comment at the lateness of the hour when she dismissed them to their beds with a smile, assuring the housekeeper that she could quite adequately see herself to bed. None of them dreamed that Lady Constance might not be there when they woke in the morning.

Oliver had spared no expense, planning everything in advance right down to the last detail. He knew running away with her was risky, but what choice did they have? Even if he didn't love her, Edmund would never give Constance a divorce, and the world had not yet changed enough for her to seek one on her own. He was cold and cruel, and she deserved better. She deserved to be happy. If they wanted any chance at happiness, this was the only way. And so, Oliver had arranged to meet her at Arden Manor late that night, after all the servants had gone to bed. He had a carriage waiting, all ready to take them a few towns over, where they'd catch a train in the morning to continue their voyage. All of this meant they could never return to Arden, not as long as Edmund refused to divorce her, but that did not concern Oliver so much as putting as much distance as they could between Constance and her husband.

Connie had spent the day careering wildly between determination and terror. She knew this was her last chance, her only chance, to be away from Edmund, to be with Oliver, but the scandal of what she was proposing to do might well catch up to her eventually. She wanted to talk to Lawry, to ask his advice, but she knew that was a vain wish. It might even be a cruel one. She had written him a letter, addressed to the cottage where her brother was honeymooning, to explain what was happening and why. She could only hope that Edmund would not guess that she was gone until she was well out of his reach.

As the house quieted and the servants settled to sleep, she waited another half hour to be absolutely certain of them. Then she rose, dousing the single candle that illuminated the room, and crept from the house, making her way briskly through the gardens toward the wide lane that bordered them. "Oliver?" she whispered as she approached, terrified that Edmund was going to leap out and throttle her at any moment.

It wasn't Edmund who awaited her, but Oliver, true to his word with a carriage waiting to take her away from the nightmare she'd been living these past years, just as he'd promised. He knew he was asking a lot of her, and he knew there would be scandal once what they'd done was discovered, but he hoped that by that time, they'd be far from England and far away from the grasp of her husband. "Here, love!" he called back, his voice barely more than a whisper in the darkness, and then a hand was clutching hers to lead her away from the manor to the carriage he had waiting just down the lane.

She startled at the sensation of a hand grasping hers, but it was his hand and she knew that clasp well. Catching her skirts in the other, she hurried to keep pace with him, truly frightened that a hue and cry would go up at any moment to declare her missing. If their luck held, it would be midday tomorrow at the earliest when Edmund was told of her disappearance, and by the time he reached Arden, they would be safely invisible in a port town, waiting only for their ship to be ready. It was matter of moments to climb into the carriage, and she felt the knot in her stomach beginning to loosen as they drew away. "Where are we going?" she asked him, still wary of raising her voice.

He wasted no time in helping her into the carriage, along with her luggage. With the need for a hasty journey, they were forced to travel light, but he would make it up to her once they were safely away. Possessions, after all, could be replaced easily enough. "Bristol," he told her as he climbed in beside her. There was no need to tell the driver where they were going, as he'd explained all that already. "We'll travel a few towns away before stopping for the night, and then take a train to Bristol in the morning. It's all arranged," he told her, far more calmly than he felt.

If they were caught, they'd have to face not only Edmund's ire, but a scandal, as well. He would have liked to have explained all this to her brother and to his employer beforehand, but it could not be helped.

She let out a low breath, gripping his hands tightly in her own. "I've been so afraid, all day," she admitted with half a laugh at her own silliness. "I kept thinking that Edmund was going to suddenly change his mind and come to Arden instead of going to York. He's been so angry this past week ... I don't know how I kept my hope from showing."

He didn't bother to ask why Edmund had been angry. The simple fact that Lawry had found happiness was probably enough to set the man off for weeks to come. It irked him how terrified she was of the man and only made Oliver hate him all the more. "You never need worry about him again. I promise," he told her, wishing he could be sure of that fact, but a promise was a promise, and he'd do everything in his power to keep her away from Edmund, even if it meant risking his own life to do it.

"Oh, Ollie ..." Connie smiled, despite her fear. He didn't need to make that promise to her; she knew he would protect her, the way he always had. She leaned close, resting her head on his shoulder. "And from Bristol, where will we sail to?"

"I've booked us passage on a ship to New York," he told her, hoping she wouldn't mind going so very far away from home, but if she wanted to truly escape Edmund's grasp, the farther away they traveled, the better. He knew the man might guess their destination, but he was gambling Edmund would look closer to home, rather than farther. "I know it's a long way from home, but we can truly start a new life there," he told her hopefully.

"That's all I want," she assured him, raising her head to touch her hand to his cheek. "Truly, Ollie. We could be going to New South Wales, and I would not mind in the slightest. So long as we are together, I do not care where we go, or how we live. Hardship with you would be a blessing."

"I do not think it will be so hard," he assured her with a hopeful smile as he turned his cheek into her hand. "I have friends there and prospects for work. These are exciting times, love, and I have always longed to see more of the world than trade routes allow." His eyes sparkled with excitement in the moonlight cast through the windows of the carriage. Of one thing she could be sure - life with Oliver Blackwood would never be boring. "Whatever comes, whatever happens, we will be together. Always," he promised further, leaning close to seal that promise with a kiss.

She leaned into that kiss, answering it with her own, with a sense of freedom that had never been there before when they had shared such moments in the past. Always before, she had belonged to someone else; now she had broken away, she was entirely his, and he could taste it in her kisses as she threw decorum and propriety out the window. What did she care if the carriage driver saw something he shouldn't? In just a few days, they would be gone from here and safe. Together.
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Constance Stanley
Young Wyrm
Young Wyrm


Joined: 17 May 2017
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Can Be Found: Stanhope House, or Arden Manor
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PostPosted: Tue May 30, 2017 10:40 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

It was difficult, given all they had been through and how much their hearts had longed for each other, not to lose themselves to their shared passion, but he knew there would be time for all that later. What was important now was the need for secrecy and speed. He had bought the driver's discretion, but the same could not be said for others they might meet along the way. "From now on, you are my wife, Constance Blackwood," he told her in a hushed whisper.

"I have wanted to wear that name for fifteen years," she told him softly, clinging to him in the rock and rumble of the carriage over the lanes and roads that wounds through the county. "I will wear your name with pride, Ollie, I promise you. And the moment he is gone, we will wed truly, scandal or danger be damned."

And if by some chance, Edmund Stanley lived to be one hundred years old, then they'd at least be married in their hearts and minds, if not legally on paper. "I tried to wait, Connie. I truly did, but I am not a very patient man, and I could not bear to see him possess you any longer," he explained, though she knew all this already. And that was what she'd been to Edmund Stanley - a possession, no more.

"I had thought he would divorce me, when I didn't bear him a child," she told him, confessing something she had not told anyone, not even her brother. "I have been taking penny royal every morning after he ... Well, you don't need me to say it. I never wanted to be married to him; I have done my best to be a disappointment, but the man's pride won't let him divorce me. It truly is until death."

"I do not like to wish death on anyone, but in his case, I will make an exception," Oliver remarked, with obvious disdain coloring his voice, eyes flashing with malice. Unlike his rival, he'd not had the easiest time of it. Life at sea had hardened him somewhat, and he had learned to fight for what he wanted, rather than have it handed to him on a silver platter, like some of their equals.

"If I could, I would kill him myself," Connie told him, her voice hard with hatred for her husband. She would never tell Oliver the worst of her marriage, deeming it a cruelty to share such memories, but it was enough to make her set aside her naturally gentle disposition and wish true harm on the man.

It alarmed him to hear her say that, knowing how much she must hate her husband and unable to guess what cruelties she might have suffered at his hand. "You are free of him now, love. He can never hurt you again," he promised her, though they had only just begun to make their escape. Even if they were caught now, he was determined to keep her safe, if he had to kill Edmund Stanley to do it.

"I will never go back to him," she swore fervently, pressing her brow to his. "I will never be his again. He has taken ten years of my life from me, ten years of your love. He will not have any more."

How could he not smile at that? It had taken ten years for him to convince her to leave her husband and go away with him. Ten years - a decade of their lives - but in the end, she had been well worth the wait. "You were never his, Connie," he told her, touching her cheek with a surprisingly gentle hand. "Even when he thought that he owned you, your heart always belonged to me."

"Always," she promised him, tilting her cheek into his touch, closing her eyes to savor a caress that before had always been hurried or hidden. Though they would have to take care until they took ship, they would never again have to hide how they felt for one another. "I... I have written to Lawry, in the Lakes," she admitted softly. "I couldn't leave without saying goodbye."

He frowned sadly at the mention of her brother and his very dear friend. He could not promise she'd ever see him again, but he hoped so. The thought of a lifetime without ever seeing him again was too sad to consider. "I hope he will not hate me for stealing you away," Oliver confessed. He hoped Lawry would understand and perhaps even visit them someday, but it would be a very long time before they returned to England, so long as Edmund lived.

"He won't hate you," Connie assured him. "Any more than he could hate me. He's known of our attachment for years, Ollie. He will be disappointed that we did not tell him in advance so he could help, but it is safer for him this way. Edmund may turn his revenge onto Lawry if he cannot find us."

"Lawry has nothing to do with this," Oliver pointed out, though she knew that already. There was nothing he could do to help his friend, but everything he could do to help his friend's sister. His life was all about her now. "It's your father who was to blame for this," he said, though she already knew that, too. "I am from a good family. He should have picked me."

"Edmund was not chosen," she told him, her lip curling in distaste for the manner of her marriage. "Father laid me down as a wager on the betting table, and lost the hand. That is why I was married off to Lord Stanley, and no other reason." She shook her head, looking away before he could see the anger in her eyes. "Father had the gall to cry on my wedding day. I never spoke to him after that day, you know. Never forgave him."

Oliver had known of Randolph's gambling problem, but the look on his face was proof that he had not known the truth of how Connie's marriage to Edmund had been arranged. First came a rush of anger - rage burning up inside him so that he had to clench his jaw in the hope she wouldn't notice - and then, there was sympathy and sadness for what she'd endured. "Why did no one tell me?" he asked, saddened by all the years that had been lost. He felt no pity for Randolph Grey; remorseful or not, there was no one to blame for his actions, but himself.

"Because it was the worst humiliation Father could have piled on me," she said quietly, her eyes on the dark countryside as it swept by them. "I begged Lawry not to tell you. It was bad enough to be forced to marry someone else, knowing I loved you. I couldn't stand the thought of you pitying me for what had happened."

"Pitying you?" Oliver echoed. "I do not know what I would have done, but I would have done something about it!" he insisted, though it was hard to imagine what he could have done then that he wasn't doing now. "I thought you no longer loved me," he confessed, though he had learned how wrong he'd been about that before long, but not before he'd left England and gone to sea, broken-hearted.

She turned anguished eyes to him. "I never stopped loving you, my darling," she promised him faithfully. "Never. And I made the mistake of thinking Edmund was a true gentleman. He asked me on our wedding night if I had ever been in love, and I, like a fool, told him the truth. It is better that you were not in the country. I was not fit to be seen for some weeks afterward."

Oliver narrowed his eyes at her confession, not because of what she'd done, but what Edmund had done to her because of him. There was that rage again threatening to consume him, but it was short-lived, fading rapidly to be replaced once again by grief and guilt at his own selfishness. "I'm sorry, love," he told her, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "So sorry. If I'd known ..." His voice trailed off. What if he had known? What then? He would have killed Edmund Stanley, for sure, that was what.
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Constance Stanley
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Can Be Found: Stanhope House, or Arden Manor
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PostPosted: Tue May 30, 2017 10:41 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

"It does not matter now," she told him gently, touching her brow to his once again. "I have been a coward for too long. If I were braver, I should have run with you the first time you asked. Oh, but I am so glad you never gave up!"

He drew her to him to hold her close, more for his own sake than hers, perhaps - needing to hold her close, to know that she was here and she was safe and she was his. "I'll never leave you again," he promised her quietly, his voice edged with tears he was too proud to shed.

Her fingers curled to his jaw as he held her, lips touching his cheek tenderly. "You will never hurt me," she assured him softly. "I will always be safe with you. I love you, Oliver. I always have, and I always will, no matter what comes."

If he could make it right again, if he could take away all her pain and change the past, he would, but this was the best he could do. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right, but it was better late than never. "I will give you everything he could not, Connie. I promise you that. I love you, too. I have always loved you, and I will always love you, until my dying day," he promised her, sealing that promise with another kiss. No more words, no more secrets, no more tears - from this moment forward, he would give her only love and devotion and happiness.

They did not arrive at Warwick for another hour, in the small hours of the night. Connie was glad that there was only a single candle to illuminate her face poorly as they were lead to a small bedroom. There would be no time for breakfast, nor a leisurely morning - just time enough to snatch a few hours of sleep before they had to rise again to catch the first train. Though she might wish for more time to lie in Oliver's arms, even she knew that speed was their only ally at this moment.

As much as they both might want it, there would be no time for lovemaking. Even if there was, Oliver needed to be sure they were safely away from Edmund's reach before he'd allow that indulgence. He wasn't opposed to sharing a bed or holding her close, but what they both really needed was a little sleep before they caught the first train to Bristol. It was going to be a long journey, and he wasn't going to relax, or feel well and truly safe, until they landed on foreign soil.

But despite the lateness of the hour, and the shortness of their respite, it was the best night's sleep Connie had had in ten years. She felt safe, wrapped in Oliver's arms, able to let herself relax completely, asleep almost the moment her head touched the pillow. Such trust was hard to come by in these times, and for a woman who had been almost broken by her own class, it was rare indeed. Not even her brother's presence could lull her to sleep so easily.

Oliver found sleep a bit more elusive than Connie, unable to relax for fear they might be found out. He'd gone over it in his head over and over, considering every possible outcome. He'd already decided that if Edmund were to come after them, he wasn't giving up without a fight - not anymore. The sky was turning gray when he finally drifted off, Connie safe in his arms and the birds already greeting the morning long before it was light. Sleep would come later, when he was sure they were safe.

Their journey to the station was less harrowing, for there were many people to lose themselves among as they boarded the first train to Bristol, deliberately traveling by second class. Edmund would assume Connie was too weak and pampered to even consider traveling anything but first, and it allowed them a degree of anonymity, if not privacy.

As things turned out, it wasn't too difficult to blend with the crowd, especially for Oliver, who was more accustomed to such things than Connie. It was three hours to Bristol, where they'd have to wait another day or two to board the ship that would take them away from England. The farther away from home they got, the more confident Oliver felt, but he knew they weren't safely out of the woods yet, so to speak.

Despite her lack of familiarity with how lower classes lived and breathed, Connie managed to keep her wide-eyed fascination to herself, though it was a struggle when they finally reached Bristol. She'd never visited the city port, always having sailed from Portsmouth or Chatham when she'd traveled, and yet in Oliver's company, she saw more of Bristol than she had of either of those ports. They walked, she carrying her own luggage, which was an experience she had never encountered before, and at street level, she heard the voices that made a city what it was - the workers and shop keepers, the dock hands and sailors turning the air blue with language she wasn't supposed to recognize. Their ship had not yet divested herself of her cargo, or taken another on, and so it would be at least three days before they were able to board and take sail. It was necessary to take rooms somewhere in the city, and wait.

It was certainly a far different existence than either of them had growing up, but for Oliver, none of this was new. As a ship's captain himself, he was accustomed to the sights and sounds of port, foreign or otherwise. He made sure they stayed close as he led the way on foot to an inn, where he'd booked a room for a few nights, signing the register as Mr. and Mrs. Black, temporarily dropping the last part of his name if only until they boarded the ship.

Finally allowed a little time, though far from out of danger yet, Connie left her bag at the foot of the bed, moving to look out through the window at the bustling city. "I didn't know how vibrant a place could be," she admitted with a small smile. "There's so much life, and I never took the time to see it."

Propriety may have demanded they take two rooms, but necessity dictated otherwise. Besides, if they wanted to play the part of a married couple, they needed to appear convincing, which necessitated one room. Neither was complaining, however. They'd been kept apart too long not to enjoy the arrangements. He wasted little time joining her at the window, arms going around her waist as they looked out on the city together. "There's so much I want to show you," he told her, not necessarily here in Bristol, so much as in the world.

"My whole life has been sheltered," she murmured, leaning back into his arms with a loving sigh, curling her hands over his at her waist. "I have so much learn." A warm smile lit up her face as she looked at him fondly. "And a very good teacher."

"I will do my best," he promised, leaning close to breathe her in. How many times had he dreamed of this moment? Of being able to hold her close at long last without worry of Edmund or anyone else getting in their way. "We should have done this years ago," he murmured into her hair, the scent so very familiar, so very Constance.

She smiled, for the first time enjoying the sensation of someone's breath in her hair, knowing it was Oliver holding her. Oliver, whom she'd loved for too long in silence. They might both be throwing everything away with this escape, but they would finally have each other. "I am sorry I made you wait so long, love."

In Oliver's mind, whatever they were throwing away could be regained. Maybe she wouldn't have the same kind of life she'd enjoyed here, but he didn't think he'd have any trouble being able to provide her with a safe and comfortable home life. If all went well, there might even be children someday, but he didn't dare let his thoughts get too far ahead just yet. "We should have run away before you married Edmund," he remarked, though, at the time, he was not able to provide for her as he was now.

"I thought I was doing the right thing," she said sadly, knowing it was her own fault that she had been trapped for so long. He had always been ready to run with her, never once giving up hope that she might one day say yes. She turned in his arms, wrapping her own about his waist as she buried her face against his neck. "It won't be long, and he will never be able to harm us again."
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Constance Stanley
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PostPosted: Tue May 30, 2017 10:42 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

He knew he was asking her to give up a lot to run away with him, but getting free of Edmund was far more important than keeping up appearances, especially knowing how violent he could be. He held her close in his arms, breathing her in yet again, seeking to comfort her, if he could, and promise her safety. "I won't let him anywhere near you again, love," he promised, determined to keep it, no matter the cost.

She smiled, raising her head to kiss him tenderly, closing her eyes to breathe him in as she held him close. "I love you, Ollie," she promised him in return, soft and fervent, unable to think of anything more she could say that might mean any more than those words.

They were words he'd been longing to hear for a very long time, and though they had shared their feelings before, he never got tired of hearing it. "I love you, Connie," he echoed, allowing himself to relax a little for the first time since they'd left Arden Manor in the middle of the night. "We should probably send Lawry a telegram, let him know we're safe," he suggested, though he seemed in no hurry to do so. If he'd had his way, he'd have waited until they were safely across the sea before doing so, but he knew her brother would worry.

"No," she disagreed, shaking her head. "I know he will worry, but there's nothing for it. If we send a telegram, there is every chance that Edmund will discover where we are, and be here before we board the ship. I will not take that risk, Ollie, not when we're so close to being away from him. We can send a telegram from the ship."

"All right," he agreed, relieved that she was more concerned with their safe escape than with informing her brother. They'd already discussed their worries where Lawry was concerned, but Connie seemed sure her brother would both understand and support them. "Are you hungry? Tired? Is there anything you need?" he asked her in concern.

She smiled again, weary but happy to with him, despite the danger hanging over their heads. "I have everything I need right here, love," she told him, squeezing her arms about his waist tight for a brief moment. "Will you be gone long, when you check with the captain?"

"No, I just need to make sure all the arrangements are still in place and find out when we should board." Oliver knew as well as any good sailor that even the best laid plans could change due to any number of reasons, but mostly due to bad weather. So far, the ship was scheduled to leave port in three days, but as short as three days was, it wasn't soon enough for Oliver's tastes.

"I'll sleep while you are gone," she told him. "I have no wish to waste any of our time together, if I can possibly help it." Her hands stroked against his back. Perhaps it was odd that they had not fallen to the bed the moment they were assured of privacy, to consummate their love in the one manner that had been absolutely denied to them for years, but then again, perhaps not. They both knew that, so long as they were in England, they could be discovered at any moment.

It was not easy for him to resist the temptation that was Constance. It was in good part why he'd left England to begin with all those years ago, afraid that if he remained, he would bring shame and scandal to them both. Even now that they were at long last alone, that fear still hovered over them. He knew he would give in to the temptation before long, but only when he was sure they were safe - she was safe. "I won't be gone long, love. Promise," he told her, touching a tender kiss to her brow.

Her smile softened, her hand reaching between them to touch his cheek with an echo of his tenderness. They had waited this long; a few more days would not do them any harm. "Go, then," she told him gently. "I will not stir from this room without you."

"We can get a meal downstairs, once I return," he told her, knowing she would likely be hungry by then. They hadn't eaten since shoveling down a hasty breakfast on the train, and it was hard to decide which he needed more, food or sleep. Food was the easier to come by, he thought. Sleep would come later. "Don't let anyone in while I'm gone. I be back as soon as I can." He touched a kiss to her lips, wishing he could linger longer in her embrace.

"I won't," she promised, lingering in that kiss a moment longer before stepping back, her hands demurely behind her back. He knew how tempting he was to her, and her almost mischievous smile wasn't making a secret of it. "Don't make me shoo you, or I will begin to sound like my mother."

He smiled at last, looking a little weary, but happy to be there with her. There was an underlying excitement to their little adventure which he found far too appealing, so long as it didn't end in disaster. "If your mother was anything like you, she must have been an angel," he countered, before reluctantly stepping away to start toward the door.

Her mother had been a lot like her - she, too, had been trapped in an unhappy marriage, but she had poured all her love into her children to console herself. It had been a dark day for Lawry and Connie when their mother had died. But to be compared to her was the sweetest compliment Oliver could have given her. "If I am even half the woman she was, I would have to say that you are a very lucky man," she teased, following him to the door.

"I will not argue with that," he told her, pausing at the door and turning to face her, as if he was going on a long journey and not just a short meeting with the ship's captain. "I am a lucky man, indeed," he told her, drawing her close for yet another kiss, this one more passionate than the last.

With kisses like this, it was going to be difficult to control themselves until they were safely away. Connie clung to him as he kissed her, answering him with the quiet passion she had never given to anyone but him, unafraid to feel when she was in his arms. "If you do not go now, you will not go at all," she warned in a breathless whisper, each word brushing her lips to his as she laughed fondly.

"I do not wish to leave you at all, but I must," he told her, though she knew that already. "Rest for a while, and I'll back as soon as I can," he promised yet again, kissing her one last time, quickly but fondly, before turning for the door.

She watched him out, obediently locking the door securely in his wake, turning back to the empty room. There was no point in removing her clothes simply to lie down for a while, curling about a pillow with her eyes fixed firmly on the window. Just a few days, and they would be free. All she could now ... was wait.
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