Thanatosis

Thanatosis

Hello everyone! Thank you in advance for reading this. This is my first time writing any sort of fiction, erotica or otherwise, so I'm very inexperienced. Any feedback would be much appreciated!

Thanks,

SElizabethM

Prologue:

Here was a bird: small and radiant, still revelling in its freedom. Oh, how it played around, danced through the fields, sang without shame and dazzled the world with its vibrant plumage.

Oh, but the world is not so kind to such creatures. Its beauty, left untamed, would only be sullied by the impurities of the outside world - its extravagant coat and naive demeanour would attract the gaze of those who would only dirty it.

This bird lacked refinement, but it could be so much more.

1

Felicity's husband was fucking her: his pelvis regularly slamming forward to meet hers, his erection spreading the folds of her labia. This fucking, as Felicity had long ago decided to understand it, had become a ritual of theirs. Every three months, on the fourth day of each month, in celebration of their wedding, they would join together in their marriage bed.

Their wedding was fifteen years ago, on the day of Felicity's twenty-first birthday. The wedding was a grand occasion, especially for a woman of Felicity's upbringing, and seemed to promise her a life more exciting than the one she finally ended up with. Whilst her name afforded her the right to marry a man of high standing, she was not so privileged as to be able to have any say in who she married.

As such, it was expected that (much like her two older sisters) she would end up marrying a disgraced noble or a soldier recently home from duty looking for a young bride. Much to her mother's surprise - especially given she considered Felicity the least well-bred of her children - the man who brought the first offer was a well-to-do nobleman of the name William Wallis, who, Felicity supposed, thought that she (who was herself blessed with good looks) would provide a good mother for her children.

Fifteen years later, and she had yet to provide any heirs to William. Felicity expected that it was because of this that her husband had provided her with a young new 'personal' maid, Emily, just five years earlier. At the time, this then-sixteen-year-old maid bore a remarkable resemblance to Felicity when she was the same age. Both women shared the same light-brown hair, dark brown eyes, pale complexion, fair figure, and even seemingly the same faint collection of freckles on their faces.

For a time, Felicity supposed that William expected that by the time Emily was of age, she would be able to provide for the heirs, which Felicity could not. Five years down the line, however, and Emily had clearly developed along an entirely separate line to Felicity. Whilst Felicity gained little in height over the years, she was hardly the same scrawny young lady as she was before she married William. Instead, as some men had termed them, she had developed to be well-endowed with a good child-rearing bosom and wide child-bearing hips.

The same could not be said for Emily, as whilst she grew taller, taller even than her Mistress, her hips and bosom hardly developed along the same path, and her hair, once the same light brown as Felicity's, grew only darker. The final impression was that of a shadow following Felicity rather than a young woman in her own right.

After William had ceased fucking her he got up, called Emily into the room, briskly dressed in a loose robe and retired to his office. Felicity was left lying on the bed, utterly bored, as she always was, with Emily cleaning around her. After a few more minutes, Felicity would get up and wander the house aimlessly as she always did, but in the meantime, she lay there, legs spread, forearm covering her eyes, barely breathing but still making Emily's job as inconvenient as possible.

It wasn't as if Felicity could even make herself hate William - not for fucking her, despite how uncomfortable it always was, and not even for hiring Emily, as all her suspicions amounted to that alone: suspicion. Felicity was certain that William was what many women would call a perfectly nice husband: he was attentive, considerate, and much to Felicity's genuine surprise, even seemed to love her (which, she thought, was one possible reason he had never tried to replace her). She couldn't even bring herself to hate Emily. She was undeniably helpful and quiet, and in those rare moments when their eyes lingered on each other for more than a few seconds, she felt a kind of kinship there.

What ailed Felicity instead was her complete and utter boredom.

She had spent the first five years of her marriage consuming as much as possible: literature, music, poetry and the fine arts. Her initial boredom, with no comprehension of how she might fare in the future, led her to consume it all. And then, after those five years, there was nothing left aside from the dull hum that filled her mind and grew steadily stronger day after day. It was in this state, after ten years of the same dull hum, that Felicity stalked out of the room in a state of complete undress, chasing after something, anything, to relieve her boredom.

2

Still distracted by cleaning the bedroom, it took Emily quite a few minutes after her departure to notice that her Mistress's clothes were completely undisturbed. Concluding that this meant her Mistress was wandering the halls of the manor in the nude, Emily quickly gathered up her clothes, muttering a few phrases of resentment, and chased after her.

Being not as familiar with the halls of the great house as her Mistress was, who dedicated nearly every day of her life to wandering them aimlessly, Emily's progress around the manor was far less efficient than it could have been. Coupled with her lack of knowledge regarding her Mistress's whereabouts, Emily was left to frantically run about the halls after any sign of her Mistress, all the whilst trying to avoid disturbing the Master of the house.

The first trace of her Mistress was in the Master's bedroom (kept separate from Felicity's at an earlier fervent request for privacy). The bedroom, usually prim and proper without so much as the bedsheets in disarray, was the sight of what looked to be a madwoman's rampage. Ornate vases were smashed, the books which once neatly decorated every shelf were littered across the floor, the bedsheets were tossed around the room, and the wardrobe was left gaping with the rich clothes and fineries in tatters in a pile on the floor.

Following the path of destruction out the opposite door led an increasingly anxious Emily down the stairs and into the servants' quarters, which were thankfully empty apart from a few bewildered maids who quickly turned away when given a stern glance. Following the chaos led her into the pantry, empty at this time in the morning, but marked by the figure of her Mistress on the cold stone floor.

She lay inanimate, her knees askew and slightly open, creating a clear path to the rest of her now-dishevelled body. Her arms were spread, one above her head, wrapped in her golden brown hair, clutching a table leg, and the other stretched out to her side, clasping a now-empty bottle.

With her nude form and tousled hair, she became to Emily the picture of vulnerability. Acting quickly, Emily called for help, wrapped some clothes around her Mistress, and raised her body against the wall.

Part 1:

Felicity had never envisioned it as an act of revenge or anger. Neither was it an act of madness as the doctors later supposed. Rather, Felicity, who was blessed with an analytical mind, designed it entirely to answer a question of possibility. First: Was it possible that amid the chaos, after causing as much destruction both to the manor and her body in a short period that she could elicit some response, emotional or otherwise, from her body? Second: if no response could be elicited from her body, was it possible to elicit a response from William or, indeed, her maid? Third: was it possible that indulging in such destruction could bring about an end to her boredom?

It was only a month later, when she finally began to reclaim her faculties, that she could begin to answer these questions. First, the only response she managed to elicit from her body was muted pain, which lasted for weeks and a deep sense of disappointment both in how she had woken up with the droning of her boredom persisted and that she had woken up at all.

As for the second question, she discovered that there would be, as her husband put it, a 'great number of changes intended to prevent any such attack in the future'. 'My dear', William continued, 'it is clear to me that you were afflicted, and may still be afflicted, by some great physical and mental affliction that robbed you of your mental capacities.' William looked at her over his glasses for a few seconds as if to punctuate this point. 'The doctor has advised that, for the foreseeable future, you are to be accompanied at all times.'

William took another pause, which was characteristic of his speech, extended by the mouthfuls of food he had taken from the plate before him. During this time, Felicity stared past William, briefly glanced at Emily, who sat neatly in the corner, and out the window. The first light of the sun was just beginning to breach the top of the trees and enter the window, revealing the sharp contrast between her dull and empty room and the vibrant reds of the mid-autumnal English countryside. With it too, William's heavy form was revealed to her. He seemed now more exuberant, more genuinely happy than she could ever remember him being, even more so than on their wedding fifteen years prior. Perhaps because of this Felicity could never recall before feeling as truly repulsed by him as she was now.

William finally carried on: 'Unfortunately, my dear, my work necessitates that I spend time away from you, though it pains me to do so, and so I must concede this responsibility to Emily.' At the end of this sentence, William gave her what he must have thought was a bright and friendly smile, though the morning sun revealed the sweat that dripped from his brow and every imperfection in his crooked teeth and his bloated lips. Felicity knew that he would go on for quite a few minutes more like this, but at this point she had entirely lost interest and, shutting her eyes, resigned herself to whatever 'treatment' William inflicted upon her.

It occurred to her, between William's endless droning and the clink of his cutlery as he carried on eating, that nothing may ever truly cure her boredom, not even this last experiment of hers. In time, she would learn that her experiment had done far more harm than good to her daily routine and what she considered life. But even in hindsight, one thing still remained remarkably clear: had she continued on as she always had, day after day, for another five, ten, or even fifteen years, she would have been driven truly mad.

3

Felicity awoke the next day to Emily gazing at her softly from a chair across the room. Felicity returned the gaze with a questioning stare. 'To prevent future attacks', Emily began, 'the Master has requested that I accompany you at all times, Miss. This includes... at night'. Felicity could have sworn she saw her smirk briefly upon saying that but decided to ignore it and get up to prepare for her day - or the little she was still permitted to do, not that there was much prior to her 'attack' either.

Already, just when she was having her breakfast, she was surprised at how quickly she managed to get annoyed at Emily constantly tailing her, like she had become her literal shadow. Frequently, Felicity could have sworn that it seemed Emily was on the verge of saying something before deciding against it. After a few hours of this, Felicity determined to confront Emily and get her to spit out what she was trying to say. Stopping in the middle of one of the manor's many long corridors, she spun around to face Emily and begun to speak - before she could, Emily took a step forward and pressed a bony finger tenderly to Felicity's lips.

'Hush now - not when there are others around.'

Felicity was caught entirely by surprise. She blushed and exhaled a sharp breath. For a few seconds, the whole world seemed to go blank, all except for Emily - her finger, her long fingers, her finger, a finger so warm and genuinely tender, still pressed lightly against her quivering lips. She was caught in a dizzying vortex of tender warmth and confusion.

After recovering from the shock, she recoiled a few steps before hurriedly turning around and walking away. That was the first real physical contact (excluding the routine fucking with her husband that was never 'real' to her anyway) that she had had in a long time. Emily still kept pace with her and didn't give any sign, not even a chuckle, to indicate that she recognised what she had done. Felicity noted that she was correct; a few maids were in the hallway, most of whom seemed to be glancing at the two of them surreptitiously.

After a few more hours of wandering, she retired to the drawing room, which was redecorated from how it was before Felicity's attack. The room, as she noted it to be now, was a lot less cluttered than it was before. Notably, the alcohol which once lined some of the shelves for when they had guests to entertain was gone - it seemed to her that William no longer trusted her around alcohol, not that it had anything to do with her 'attack' anyway. She tidied her dress and sat daintily on one of the sofas. Emily sat on one of the chairs opposite her.

Checking that the room was clear first, she turned towards Emily and asked: 'do you care to explain your behaviour now?'

'What behaviour, miss?'

'Whatever that was in the hallway. I'll have you know that's not how you should act in polite society and certainly not around your Mistress!' She said the last sentence sharply, nearly shouting it, making sure she got her point across clearly and precisely.

'I merely wished to stop you from embarrassing yourself, miss. I wouldn't wish for your maids to interpret it as another attack,' Emily replied with complete seriousness; it seemed to Felicity, much to her infuriation, that she was being toyed with.

'Embarrass myself? Embarrass myself!' Felicity replied, clearly flustered at Emily's clear lack of etiquette in responding to her Mistress. 'How dare you!' she went on, taking a cue out of William's playbook and pausing to compose herself before speaking further. 'You shall not talk to me that way, you understand? And what', she spat, 'were you doing before that? Out with it - what did you so desperately want to say to me this morning?'

'I'm sorry, miss, I don't know what you're talking about.' Emily replied calmly.

It seemed to Felicity that a smirk briefly played upon Emily's lips for a second before passing. Before she could get herself any more riled up, Felicity stood up, tidied her dress, and left the drawing room. It was nearly time for tea, anyway.

Tea that evening was an exceptionally dull affair, and provided the first instance where Felicity found herself without the company of Emily. Instead, she was left waiting alone in the grand hall for her husband to arrive, and when he finally did, dressed only in a white shirt and baggy pantaloons that seemed to emphasise his weight, he gave her but a few cursory glances before ignoring her altogether.

This was fine by Felicity, as she would rather sit in quiet with nothing but her thoughts to occupy her than be distracted by William's many strained and garrulous speeches. It was here she realised that this was the first point in the day that she was truly left to the pensive musing that had seemed to monopolise her time before.

She was surprised how easy it was, in the company of others, to feel annoyed, flustered, and even embarrassed. More than anything, though, she was surprised that the company that triggered such arousal of emotion within her was none other than Emily's, whom she had previously ignored completely or who had only been the subject of desultory considerations. That familiar dull ache of boredom had settled over her once again.

After finishing her tea, she excused herself before William could break his pattern of silence and proceeded down the corridor to her room. As she rounded the last corner, she noticed her room was illuminated by the soft yellow glow of an oil lamp, the warm light only broken by the faint shadow of a figure standing quietly in the corner of the room. She paused for a second, then, as the dancing light of the flame seemed to beckon her forward, she approached her room.

4

The following day began in much the same way as the previous morning and, she was sure, in much the same way as many of the mornings that followed. She dressed, went to breakfast, and bid her husband farewell - all whilst being tailed by Emily. Today, however, in a way very uncharacteristic of her, she decided to spend her time in the gardens.

Before she was married, Felicity had always enjoyed gardening. The gardens where she grew up presented her with something over which she had nearly absolute control. Accounting for what she didn't - changes in the weather, quality of the soil, et cetera - only deepened her pride when her patch of land transformed from untamed grass and wildflowers to her own vibrant portrait of pastoral England. More than being just an exercise in control, however, the gardens were also a perfect form of companionship. As she grew, developed and changed, the gardens grew alongside her, often mirroring or responding to her in a way that felt truly alive. When she was in her gardens, when she was allowed to nurture the budding flowers, she had never felt less alone.

She had hoped that, once she was married, she could still tend to the gardens even if the rest of her life was turned upside down. And for a while, during the first few months of her marriage when she was still settling down, her husband had allowed it. She even had a small patch of land that was finally starting to take shape in the form she imagined. After a while, though, her husband put a stop to it. He claimed it was for a lady to behave, 'crawling around in the dirt, ruining perfectly good clothes, when there are servants to do it for us'. Before long every sign that she had ever worked on these gardens was changed and reworked - her vibrant colours and wild asymmetry were replaced by the homogenised cleanliness and symmetry of a dozen or more gardeners. Even the tree that she planted when she arrived was uprooted the moment it showed signs of growing.

This was one thing that she did resent her husband for - the one thing he took from her that she wished he hadn't, that she knew she would be happier with. It was this lingering feeling of resentment that, even after fifteen years of marriage, still kept her from going into the gardens unnecessarily. So, whilst she passed her time wandering the same halls or reading the same books, nary a stray glance was given to the gardens, which she once hoped could be her eternal companion.

Now, however, she felt like taking a stroll through the gardens - more aptly, she felt like being outside. The manor, which even in the previous heights of her boredom had managed to keep her contained, now felt more claustrophobic than ever before. The mere presence of Emily at her side had been enough to completely uproot the normal rhythm of her life. Whereas previously she thought any change might lessen her boredom, instead, she found herself deeply unsettled - struggling for breath, like her entire body and soul was grasping to the destructive ennui that had defined the last fifteen years of her life. She needed to breathe.

The garden hadn't changed; it was kept in a stasis of eternal homogeneity, eternal cleanliness, and eternal symmetry; it felt lifeless, animated only by the swarm of gardeners trimming hedgerows and digging weeds. She walked on, past the gardeners, looking for any sign of imperfection, any spot with any claim to life. She found it at the edge of her husband's land, a small grove of trees where the grass was allowed to grow.

The clearest entrance to the grove that she could find was itself blocked by a thick wall of brambles and bushes, necessitating the dirtying of her dress if she were to proceed. She stopped for a moment, standing still outside the grove, pondering whether to enter, to risk disturbing her dress and, perhaps more disquieting to her, inviting questioning from her husband. After a few more moments, Emily, who had trailed behind her Mistress, softly spoke. 'Ma'am', she said, almost whispering.

This word broke Felicity from her trance and prompted her forward. She used her arms, covered in layers of finery, to protect her face and push the branches aside. When she had breached the other side, her dress was ripped around her arms and legs, revealing her pale skin, now dirtied and, in places, scraped. Under the cover of the trees, she smiled. The grove was perfect. Before Emily could follow her in, she quickly turned on her heels.

Emily was already there, standing right in front of Felicity, blocking her exit from the grove. Emily smiled at her before tenderly raising an arm to Emily's hair, using it to brush away the leaves and branches that littered it. After she was finished with her hair, she slowly lowered her hair down to Felicity's cheek, using her thumb to gently rub her lips. She kept her thumb planted on her lips, her hand on her cheek, as her smile broadened.

Felicity was in shock. She didn't hear Emily come in; truth be told, for a few seconds in the grove, she had nearly forgotten about her. Now, however, she was standing right in front of her, looking completely clean despite having to enter the same way she had, her hand tenderly stroking her cheek. Felicity was stunned; she didn't know what to do - no maid should act like this towards her Mistress! After recovering, she backed away a few steps, but Emily spoke up quietly before she could stammer out a reprimand. 'I think it would be advisable, Ma'am, if you to returned to the house and cleaned yourself up before the Master got back'.

Felicity stormed out of the grove, indifferent in her anger to the brambles that scraped her arms and tore further at her already ruined dress, simply wishing to return to the manor - there, at least, there was a rhythm, and things made sense. The swarm of gardeners, still tending to the Sisyphean task of maintaining William's perfect garden, didn't even notice her as she rushed past, her dress and hair that were, only this morning, immaculate completely ruined, and her pale skin marked with dirt.

When she got back, Emily was already waiting for her, standing still by the side door, her dress still eerily perfect. Before she could even begin to ask how this was possible, Emily cut in. 'Id you'd follow me, Ma'am, I can get a bath prepared for you.' Felicity followed her in, still in shock. No matter what she did, Emily always seemed to be one step ahead of her, sometimes quite literally.

When the bath was finally prepared, Felicity had expected that she would be left on her own to wash herself. Emily, however, clearly had different thoughts, replying to Felicity's first objections to her help in bathing, saying that it was 'the Master's orders that you be accompanied at all times of the day'. Felicity reluctantly accepted. By this point, feeling her previous bout of 'madness' had disqualified her from any real attention from her husband and repeatedly feeling flustered at Emily's every action, she had resigned herself to her utter powerlessness against Emily's whims. This included receiving her 'assistance' in every aspect of the bathing process.

Particular attention was paid to undressing her. Despite having assisted Felicity with both dressing and undressing for all five years of her term, Felicity noted that Emily approached this particular instance with far less propriety and an intimacy that frequently bordered on unsuitable. The outer bodice, already in tatters, was swiftly discarded.

Next, her hands slowly slipped down to the waist, slipping sensually beneath the waistband, her fingers never completely leaving Felicity's body. There was a practiced ease in the movement of her fingers, yet the slowness and intimacy would suggest otherwise. Emily slowly inched closer to Felicity's back, her warm breath caressing her back. Soon, the skirt was unhooked, and the weight of the fabric caused it to sag softly against Felicity's hips. Emily gently tugged at the skirt, her face just inches from it, as it fell to the floor. Emily knelt slower as she collected the skirt, but here she seemed to linger too long around Felicity's waist as she started fidgeting and growing uncomfortable. Noticing this, Emily backed up somewhat, giving Felicity a brief moment of reprieve and exposing the layers of petticoat that lay beneath the skirt. Despite the overall chill of the day, the room was anything but - the tension, intimacy, and awkwardness seemingly elevated the temperature and brought heat to Felicity's skin.

With the skirt now fully removed, Felicity felt as if her nude form was already entirely exposed to Felicity - and with it came an awkwardness entirely new to her, one that she had never before felt surrounding nudity. Emily soon regained her position behind Felicity, still close but seemingly further than she was, although Felicity feared this was merely because she was becoming used to it. Emily's fingers reached for Felicity's voluminous petticoats, her practised fingers steadily, and far too slowly for Felicity's liking, untying the outer layer of the petticoat before, with the same slowness and intimacy, moving on to the next layer and letting them slowly cascade to the floor.

As each layer was removed, each lighter and more revealing than the last, Felicity's breath became steadily faster, hitching in her throat to reveal the extent of her awkwardness. She was, in this moment, utterly frozen, unable to even begin thinking about opposing Emily and her dexterous fingers.

Emily's fingers slowly rose to the hem of the corset cover, and as they did, Felicity seemed to stop breathing in anxiety. Her shoulders were taut, fearing the moment when Emily's fingers would remove this last soft layer would give way, revealing the coarseness of her corset and, eventually, her naked form. Working her way up, Emily slowly and tenderly unfastened each and every button, slowly parting the corset cover until it easily fell from Felicity's shoulders.

However, when Emily approached the corset, her fingers lingered moments more than was necessary around her hips, gently tensing and feeling on their way to the lace at the back. All the whilst, her breathing still intimately caressed Felicity's body and betrayed a hint of amusement that seemed to dare Felicity to comment. As her fingers finally reached the corset's laces, Felicity shifted.

'Stop', she whispered almost imperceptibly.

Emily's fingers paused for a second at the small of Felicity's back. After nothing more was said, she teasingly touched the laces. For a moment moe, nothing happened, the only sound was the softness of their breaths that revealed a tension between them - a tension that hadn't existed a few weeks previously. Then, Felicity shifted again, more noticeably.

'Stop it.' She commanded her voice tight and almost shouting it.

Emily halted for a moment, her fingers still lingering around the laces on the corset, which were now slack under her touch.

'You can't bathe with it on, Ma'am, and I would hate for the Master to see you dirty.' Emily gently replied, coaxing her.

Felicity stopped for a second. Nothing Emily had done in this room had been strictly wrong, per se. All of it was necessary for bathing, and Emily reminded her that it was essential after her earlier escapade in the gardens. If her husband found out, he may interpret it as yet another sign of madness, using it as an excuse to take more from her - and it was hard enough being constantly tailed by Emily. All that had happened was Emily had undressed her, which she had done on numerous occasions before this. She may be a little too close, or taking a little too much time in doing so, but there was nothing here that should warrant her reaction, Felicity convinced herself.

With that, her eyes fixed on the floor, Felicity gave a shallow nod.

Emily resumed her work, slowly unlacing the corset with great care. Next came the busk at the front of the corset. Emily's hands traced around Felicity's waist to her abdomen, where she worked to slowly unhook it, starting at the bottom and slowly progressing up to her chest. Felicity gave a sigh of relief when Emily's hands moved over her chest, not lingering on it as she expected, before slowly lifting the corset off the shoulders and drawing it away from the body. When the corset was finally removed, Felicity braced herself for the final part of her undressing.

Once the corset was removed, Felicity clutched her arms around her chest, tightly drawing her chemise to her body like a shield. Emily exhaled a sharp breath in what sounded to Felicity like a chuckle. She knelt down, her face mere inches from Felicity's buttocks, which were thankfully still covered by her chemise and drawers. Reaching her arms around the front, Emily untied the drawers at the waist before allowing them to slip down, bunching up around Felicity's feet.

'I can do the rest myself', Felicity insisted gently, stepping out of her drawers and away from Emily.

Emily stood up, nodded softly, and left the room, smiling to herself as she did - she had achieved what she was after. Glancing behind her to ensure that Emily had left the room, Felicity breathed a sigh of relief and sank to the floor; her cheeks were burning red, and she felt strangely violated. She waited a few more moments, recovering somewhat more, before finally loosening the chemise and lifting it over her head. The bath was cool when she finally entered it.

When she finally finished in the bath, she quickly towelled herself off and put her chemise back on before calling for Emily to help change into her evening dress. To Felicity's relief, Emily took no liberties when dressing her, and the whole affair was done relatively quickly. Feeling safe once again in her layers of clothing, she made her way to the drawing room once again, determined to confront Emily.

Much like the previous day, once she entered the drawing room she rested herself on the sofa, with Emily opposite her. Felicity studied Emily in silence for a few moments, examining her, hoping to see any sign of embarrassment or any indication that she was even slightly flustered. To her disappointment, Emily's body revealed nothing, and her expression remained perfectly composed, maddeningly so.

Felicity tried to read anything in every movement that Emily made. She closely examined every blink, every breath, hoping to find some way to convince herself that Emily felt slightly flustered or at least somewhat guilty. To her dismay, Emily was wholly and firmly straight-faced, with her bony cheeks and thin lips betraying no sign that she even recognised what had happened earlier that day. She was left with no other recourse than to ask her outright - and to hope, perhaps even pray, that Emily wouldn't turn it back on her as she did yesterday.

Felicity cleared her throat, surprising herself with how loud it came out, especially when compared to the almost total stillness of the room. 'About this morning...' Felicity began, already finding herself struggling to find the words.

Emily looked her directly in the eyes before calmly replying. 'Yes, Ma'am?'

This was almost too much for Felicity; she felt her insides burning up, her words turning to brittle - yet here Emily was, perfectly calm, perfectly composed, perfectly... beautiful in her outfit. If she didn't know better, she could almost have believed that Emily had no recollection of anything that had transpired between them - maybe nothing had happened.

She calmed herself down, taking a deep breath in and looking away from Emily's attentive gaze. She tried to rehearse what she was going to say.

'I wanted to ask...' She continued, faltering already. Every sentence, every question she had rehearsed in her mind just moments before, had vanished under the gentle penetration of Emily's unfaltering gaze. She could feel her heartbeat, louder than she could ever remember it beating before.

Emily spoke softly, her eyes still never leaving Felicity's. 'You wanted to ask why I did it.' She paused for a moment. 'You wanted to ask whether it meant anything.'

Felicity wanted to snap back at Emily, to reprimand her for putting words into her mouth. She could imagine herself doing it so clearly; she could picture how Emily would respond - she had it all planned out. But after one beat passed, and then another, the words seemed to escape her.

'I... That's not...' Felicity mustered, trying desperately to regain control. She was the Mistress here - she was meant to be in charge. 'I just... do you regret it?' She blurted out.

Finally - Emily responded, losing her straight face as her lips twitched, almost becoming a smile before fading. 'And if I did?' She replied softly.

Felicity looked away. A heavy silence enveloped the room in response to Emily's words. Felicity felt the silence was so complete, and her heartbeat so loud, that Emily would notice it - and if she didn't, she'd certainly notice her cheeks slowly reddening.

'No, I don't regret it at all.' Emily said at last. As she did, Felicity looked back towards her, only to see that Emily's eyes had fallen, her hands now folded neatly in her laps as if the whole conversation hadn't happened at all.

Felicity couldn't end it like this; there was so much left that she wanted to know. She still didn't know what it all meant or why she was doing it.

'Why now?' Felicity asked suddenly, breaking the silence and stillness that entered the room when Emily dropped her eyes. Felicity was starting to lose her composure, 'why are you doing this now? You spent five years never talking with me, what changed?'

'Nothing changed, Miss, I just never had an... excuse to get as close to you as I've always wanted before.'

'What excuse? What changed?' If she was losing her composure before, it was completely gone now - gone was any lady-like facade. She felt her knees shaking and leaned back on the sofa, trying to get as far away from Emily as possible. As for Emily, however, she managed to keep her composure. Neatly standing and taking a few short, soft steps towards her Mistress, a light smile dancing across her lips.

'Nothing changed, Miss, I just realised I didn't have the patience to wait around any longer'. Emily was standing right in front of her now, still smiling, still composed, the complete opposite to the flustered mess that her once composed and stoic Mistress had become.

Before Felicity could muster a response, Emily's finger was softly dragging down Felicity's lips, silencing her and eliciting another sharp exhale from her Mistress. 'Not now, Miss, it'll be time for tea soon.' With that, Emily withdrew a few steps, her smile fading and her arms clutched in front of her abdomen, waiting for her Mistress to compose herself.

It took a few minutes, but before long, Felicity stood, straightened her dress, and briskly left the drawing room - her face still burning red from her encounter with Emily. She had to hope that it would fade in time for tea with her husband.

Tea that evening was an exceptionally quiet affair, even for her household's usually subdued standards. After several hours had passed, Felicity determined that her husband would not be returning that evening, and thus, she was left to dine alone, save for the serving staff. When she was done, the house was completely silent. At this point in the night, most of the staff had retired to their quarters, and those that hadn't were all on their way.

As she made her way back to her room, she noticed that it was completely dark. Gone was the light that beckoned her in last night, and so too - she soon realised - was Emily. She had expected Emily to be waiting for her there, and the realisation that she wasn't struck with a quiet, almost inexplicable, sting - she was hurt to find that she wasn't.

Before she could enter, however, a faint sound drifted down the hallway from the drawing room. She paused. Slow and tentative notes flowed gently through the silence. Drawn by the sound, she slowly approached the drawing room, the sound growing clearer and evolving into a gentle piano melody, softly enveloping her and guiding her towards the door.

When she reached the door, she looked in and saw Emily sitting at an old piano in the corner - a piano that hadn't been played in months. She watched as Emily's fingers softly pressed the keys, moving with a gentle precision to elicit mournful tunes from the keys. The piece unwound as each chord progressed to the next. Felicity remained stuck, just beyond the threshold, absorbed by the sound. It was a slow, sombre piece, and each chord seemed to pull something out from deep within her - it seemed to fill her with a deep sense of loss and longing. But there was an ache there, too, a yearning she had yet to name.

A couple of minutes later, Emily's fingers slowly lifted off the piano, the last remnants of the sound fading and leaving Felicity feeling oddly hollow. This piece had seemed to show her something, reveal something, give her something new and precious, and as the final note dissolved into the air, it was gone.

Now the piece was over, the proper etiquette would have been to return to her room, it would be to await Emily's arrival and to reprimand her - to remind her that it was not proper for a maid to be playing the piano. But instead of turning around and heading back towards her room, as common sense instructed her to do, she instead entered the room and slowly approached the piano. Emily rose as she approached, turning to face her. She was smiling.

Felicity stood a few paces from the piano. She was at once desperate to fill the silence that Emily's music had left behind, to try and ease this unfamiliar feeling that still claimed her, but also completely unwilling to take that step, whatever it may entail.

Emily's smile lingered as she looked deeply at Felicity before glancing towards the stool, then returning her gaze to meet Felicity's eyes.

'Would you like to play something?' She whispered, asking gently yet with a hint of what seemed to Felicity to be expectation.

'I can't... I haven't touched a piano in years.' Felicity murmured as she dropped her gaze towards her eyes, no longer capable of meeting Emily's.

'Then you're overdue.' Emily's smile seemed to widen as she said this. 'I can stay... guide you, if you want.'

There was something in her tone that captivated Felicity - something that made her stay, to sit down on the stool beside Emily when she may usually have left. She spoke in a way that was entirely different from the usual straight-faced manner she adopted when previously teasing her. She was careful and encouraging, yes, but there was something more there, something that hinted at something beyond the music.

Felicity hesitated for a moment, stepping closer to the stool. Emily stepped aside, not quite relinquishing her presence, ushering Felicity to sit down. As she did, Emily sat neatly beside her. Their fingers brushed together.

Felicity started. She pressed a single key, then another. These slow notes, like footsteps trodden over unfamiliar ground, slowly matured into something familiar. It was a tune she recalled from her childhood, one she was taught in those warm summer afternoons, in the days long before her marriage.

Emily listened in silence for a moment before slowly moving closer to Felicity, their shoulders pressed together. Felicity looked at her for a moment, her gaze asking a question she felt too weak to vocalise. And as Felicity's hands joined hers on the piano, finding the harmony, the question was answered.

With two pairs of hands on the piano, the melody began to bloom. From what was once sparse and uncertain, a mere shadow of Felicity's own sparse recollection, was now rich, steady, and to Felicity's ears, beautiful. She began to respond to Emily with confidence, playing with her more than she was alongside her.

They didn't speak for the entirety of the performance - there was no need. When they were playing off each other, complimenting each other melodically like this, Felicity felt strangely as one with Emily. All tension and fear faded from her as she was guided by Emily's presence - inspired by her nearness and calmness. At this moment, she had forgotten her worries and her fears, and for once in many years, she felt truly happy.

She didn't realise it then, but for the entirety of this day, never once had the slow ache of boredom returned to her.

5

William returned home late that evening. The house was silent, empty save for his butler waiting for him by the entrance. Rain dripped off his coat as he stepped inside, wearily accepting his butler's assistance.

'How is my wife?' William asked, turning to face the butler before he entered the house proper.

'Fine, sir. She waited for you some time but determined to eat alone.'

'Good. You may leave.'

He stood alone for a while in the entrance hall, bathing in the silence that surrounded him. He wondered now how long his wife had waited. He wondered how she had spent her time, how she had confronted her newfound companionship and, indeed, whether she was ever lonely.

William could picture her sitting quietly in the dining hall - composed as if she were a perfect image carved from marble, alone for the first time the entire day. She wouldn't seek to entertain herself; she wouldn't even move. She would sit there for hours - waiting for him. At what point would she give in? Would it be the hunger or the boredom that got to her first? Or indeed, maybe she would eat not out of some necessity of need but rather as a matter of normalcy.

That, he thought, would be best.

It was these thoughts, this particular portrait of her that he had tried to manufacture, that entertained him. She would not birth a child for him; he did not wish her to birth a child. After fifteen years of marriage, however, he had found something else she could provide. After all this time, he had matured to him - with every passing year, her beauty only bloomed. She was becoming the perfect image, more than he had ever hoped to imagine before.

After fifteen years of marriage, what he deserved was her image.

He began climbing the stairs to his chambers but paused. He was disturbed by a faint ringing coming from the drawing room. As he drew closer, this ringing grew in volume and clarity. It was clearly meant to be a piano melody. This troubled him. His wife hadn't touched the piano in years - not since he had moved the instrument to the drawing room, where she was more likely to be heard should she play again.

He drew closer still. The sound irritated him, setting off an uncomfortable ringing in his ears, but more than that, the mere presence of the sound suggested something far more disturbing to him.

What awaited him in the drawing room disturbed him more - his wife sat side by side with her maid, their hands moving together across the keys, their heads bent in towards one another - their bodies, unconsciously yet unmistakably, drawn close together, only a faint gap between them.

She was smiling.

6

The next few days passed in a sort of walking blur. The music had aroused something in her - something previously dormant that she didn't know existed. The sensation this awoke seemed to cling to her at all hours like static, its buzz, one she had never felt before that seemed to emanate from deep in her core, overpowering any other feeling. She found herself drifting through her routine, not mindlessly as she did under the weight of boredom, but her mind constantly whirring with what it all meant, still trapped in the aftershock of that night. These thoughts were so intense and all-encompassing as to nearly overshadow anything else.

Not that there was much else which had occurred, or was due to ever occur.

In the days following, Emily's behaviour had also shifted, reverting to the old normal, ceasing to make any sort of advance or even begin to tease Felicity in the slightest. In those moments where Felicity gathered herself out of her daze, surfacing from her reverie, she wondered about this. She wondered why Emily started in the first case, why she stopped, and if she had any part to play in it.

After about a week had passed, when the buzz from the music had faded very much into the background, she found herself missing these interactions with Emily. The glances, the closeness, the heat of uncertainty - all of it seemed to recall her to some long-lost period, perhaps from her childhood or perhaps one she had never experienced. Even if they flustered her, even if they made her feel uncomfortable, their absence created an undeniable sense of longing deep in her chest. She just couldn't put her finger on exactly what she was longing for.

Then, one day, after she had lingered on this feeling for a while and began to feel the boredom set back in, she decided on a course of action: she would lead Emily back to the grove, where she was certain they could be truly alone, and once there she would find the truth - both about Emily's actions and her feelings about them.

First things first, she would need a tool - some sort of tool to cut through the brambles without ruining another dress. This task was easier said than done, as all the gardening equipment would be locked securely in the shed, and the gardener would no doubt have been given explicit instructions to deter her from entering. This left only the tools she could find in the house, and, unfortunately, her experiment - or bout of madness as her husband and all the maids had taken to calling it in hushed words - had led to any tool that could conceivably be used for harm to be locked securely away.

Always in the corner of Felicity's eyes, Emily was watching her with a slightly bemused expression. This already felt like the most contact they had had for the past few days. She thought for a moment about whether to ask Felicity for help in tracking down some sort of tool to clear the brambles. As a maid, she thought, she would likely have more privileged access to the garden supplies than Felicity - the sheltered lady of the house. She decided against it.

Soon, Felicity found a broom leaning against the side of one of the walls, likely left by an absent-minded maid. This would have to do. Without saying a word, she offered the broom to Emily, the bemused expression still plastered on her face and beckoned for her to follow as she made her way back into the garden and through the swarm of gardeners.

As she reached the one untouched corner of the garden where the grove presided, Felicity reached out her hand to take the broom. Using the bristled end of the broom before Emily could speak up, Felicity struck out with great ferocity and in a very unladylike manner at the brambles and bushes that blocked her path. It was slow progress, with the bushes repeatedly springing back into position whenever they were pushed back. Still, after already working up a great sweat and with Emily frequently having despoiled her of any ladylike facade, she persevered. The path was eventually suitably cleared for passage and, after dropping the broom on the ground by the grove and tidying herself up, she took a few cautious steps into the grove.

The grove was just as dark - just as perfect - as it was on her last visit. She inhaled deeply, breathing in a slow, steady breath; the air was rich with the soft scent of nature: a discordant mixture of sweet-smelling flowers, the faint earthy smell of raindrops still lingering on the trees, and the brittle musk of the fallen leaves on the ground around her feet. More than anything, though, she thought she could smell Emily standing softly and closely behind her.

She turned around to face Emily, calmed herself down, and began to speak.

'Listen, I wanted to know...'

7

Emily couldn't stop herself. She hadn't intended for it to end up like this - quite frankly, she didn't know what she intended when she started along this path. At first, she reasoned that it was nothing more than defiance - lashing out as she tried to make the best of her lot. But then something happened along the way; something seemed to click inside her, and it became harder and harder for her to keep a straight face. She had served as Felicity's maid for five years, barely saying a word to her for most of them. And then, all of a sudden and without any sort of warning, she felt unable to tear herself away, like there was a thread connecting them, suddenly pulled taut.

All her excuses and reasonings, those tidy little lies, had fallen apart that day when she sat side by side with Felicity, playing the piano. For her life, she couldn't recall what had started her playing the piano, nor when Felicity had arrived and started playing with her. It wasn't so much of a blur as it was a dream, a soft, strange, and even terrifying dream that was just beyond her recollection. Whatever had happened that night to make her feel like this had her scared - she decided the best course of action was to try and regain the distance that once existed between them.

That was until today, when all of a sudden, Felicity had led her back to the grove - the same grove from that day. She watched as Felicity beat the bushes, clearing the path. She watched as she turned, smiling at Emily, a silent invitation in her eyes. She watched as she crossed the threshold. Emily's heart was beating faster than it ever had before, and it was all she could do to retain some degree of composure - it would only get worse as she followed Felicity into the grove.

She was right. At that moment, she was glad for the darkness of the grove, which obscured the flush on her cheeks and the fire that was seemingly raging within her and refused to cool.

Felicity turned towards her and started to speak. Emily inhaled sharply.

She cut off Felicity's words as she pressed her finger once again to her lips, softer and more feathery than before.

Emily heard Felicity inhale sharply, matching her own inhale from just a few seconds before, and watched as her fingers pulled gently lower on Felicity's lips, her mouth parting as her forefinger trailed below the lips, settling on her chin.

She left it there for a moment, struck by the fullness and beauty of Felicity's lips. Neither of them were breathing, neither of them were even thinking - neither of them wanted to interrupt this moment. That silence was interrupted a moment later by the sound of a heartbeat. It could have been her own; she knew it was beating furiously, but she was so close that it could have been Felicity's. Whoever it was, the sound was everywhere, seeming even to travel down her body and warm between her thighs.

Their shaky breaths soon started to fill the grove, pathing whatever distance still lay between them. Emily's gaze searched Felicity's face for a moment - she was beautiful. Her eyes then danced down to Felicity's mouth, then dropped to the floor before another surge of heat forced it back up. It looked in that moment like Felicity could break down crying.

Emily shifted somewhat, closing whatever gap still lay between her and Felicity. She moved her hand slightly, first to her jaw, then watched, as if it had a mind of its own, as it made its way down around Felicity's face before finally resting on the nape of her neck.

Emily watched as Felicity's eyes closed, and her skin flushed red with goosebumps covering every inch. It felt in that moment like she was unravelling like everything she knew and understood - like everything that constituted who she was - was coming apart. The only thing that remained was that same sensation as if a string was pulling her towards Felicity. She wanted her.

She stayed like that for a few moments longer, her gaze still searching Felicity's face, absorbing all there was to know about her. All of a sudden, Felicity offered a small nod.

It was time. Her fingers still dancing along Felicity's neck, she gently pulled Felicity towards her, bridging the space before Felicity's mouth met her own. She kissed her. She had no experience with kissing; before this, she didn't even know what she should do, but the moment her lips met Felicity's, it was as if some deep primal instinct rose up from within her, directing her every action. At first it was slow, soft, tender - her lips tenderly clasping around Felicity's bottom lip sensually.

Her taste was sublime. There was something deeply grounded and rich in it, like the earth itself had left a mark on her. Beneath her softness, Emily found a pleasing, unrefined edge: her taste was the sweet mix of a kind of unrefined coarseness, alongside the memory of fine foods and a trace of wine - all distilled by something distinctly and completely Felicity. Already getting lost in it, Emily felt like she could get addicted to this taste.

Felicity's first response to this was surprise. As soon as their lips touched, Emily felt Felicity flinch, then inhale sharply, and begin to move away as her lower lip was locked between Emily's. Soon, however, she seemed to relax into it, letting go as she began pressing back into Emily's lips gently.

Despite the surprise and the confusion of it all - for both women - there was no desperation in their kiss. Surrounded by a net of trees, they felt remarkably safe and hidden, and their kiss reflected that. Their kiss was passionate - but not frenzied in the way of two lovers trying to remain hidden. Instead, it was soft, slow, gentle, electric, and sensual - and Emily loved each and every second that their lips were joined together.

Even in the wildest dreams of her youth, Emily had never expected anything like this. The way Felicity's fingers began to meet and then threaded into Emily's hair - gently at first, tenderly grasping at her, then with a kind of desperate need as they dug into her. The way her hands slid slowly down Emily's body, exploring as if with a will of their own, drawing the two closer so that every part of them was aligned. And then, the way Felicity exhaled into her mouth - it drove her crazy with desire.

Emily couldn't take it anymore. She cupped Felicity's cheek and deepened the kiss as she moved to a new angle - her mouth following suit and moving from sucking the bottom lip to exploring the rest of her mouth. As she did, Felicity released a soft moan that penetrated Emily's entire body - releasing a heat deep from within her core, which began racing around her entire body before finally settling between her thighs.

Both of their mouths opened further, completely unveiling a hidden inner world to the other's tongue. As their mouths were opened, and their tongues began exploring each other's mouths, soon they were tangling together in a heated battle. In response, she found her own hands making their way down Felicity's body, tracing every curve more tenderly and completely than she had a week before when she had undressed her. As her hands rested on Felicity's hips, Emily found that Felicity's own hands hand both found their way to her hair, clearly reciprocating this desire for closeness and intimacy.

Emily still needed more. She was being driven over the edge by this beautiful woman, a woman whom months previously she hadn't so much as looked at, nor her at Emily. In this moment, though - this beautiful, earth-shattering, tender moment that she wished could last forever 0 it felt like her entire body was finally starting to understand where she belonged and who she was. Soon, she had slid her leg softly between Felicity's thighs, working its way under the other woman's skirt and as close as possible to her core, causing the other woman's breath to hitch in response. That raspy sound from Felicity's mouth was all she need to know she had met her mark. She could have kissed Felicity all day.

The two women continued to move like this, floating around like they were underwater as they explored each other's bodies, for what felt like hours. They were completely and utterly trapped together, both entranced by the other, locked in a quiet rhapsody of long-repressed pleasures and desires.

8

Both women were awake late into the night. Felicity lay there, never sleeping, her mind scrambling for answers. When the kiss broke apart, they didn't say a word to one for the rest of the day; Felicity just pulled apart and ran away without looking back. It was wrong, she reminded herself. It had to be wrong. So why did it hurt so much?

The next day, neither woman could so much as look at one another, let alone say anything. They continued on in this awkward daze for most of the day. After tea, however, when the house was completely still (her husband had not returned that evening), Felicity decided to address the tension between them as best she could.

'We can't do this.' She said softly, as much for herself as it was for Emily.

Emily made no reply.

She waited a few moments longer, seeing if Emily would reply, and when she didn't, she continued on. 'I'm your Mistress and you're, well, my maid - let alone the fact I'm married and we're both women! It was completely improper, it cannot allow it to continue!'

'As you say, Ma'am.' Emily replied quietly, averting her gaze.

This only seemed to make things worse for Felicity. The pain from the other day wasn't lessened by her declaration but rather only seemed to increase in intensity. The longing and the pain that had gripped her from that kiss now burned hotter and harsher, refusing to be soothed. As a result, sleep came only in fits, and when she did finally drift off, she was haunted by vivid dreams of Emily - her face, her long body and more than anything, the tender kiss they shared. Each vision stoked the fire within her, redoubling the pain and longing.

9

Emily convinced herself that she was okay with this. Felicity's declaration made perfect sense to her - each point raised should have been more than enough to dissuade her from any intimacy. After all, Emily imagined that if they were discovered, it would, without a doubt, completely derail her life.

There was no world, should she wish for it, that they could have a happy life together. Happiness for them, in this time, with their position, might as well be an impossibility. Felicity couldn't leave her husband, and Emily had no way of taking care of her - this job was her livelihood. Besides, she reasoned, all of that required them to be in love - on her loving Felicity - and there was no way that could be true.

These thoughts and more plagued Emily late into the night as she watched Felicity sleeplessly twisting and turning through the night from her chair in the corner of the room. Sleeping had never been an easy thing, not in this house and especially not on this chair, as rough and decrepit as it was, and these thoughts certainly didn't help the matter.

One night, not long after that and still plagued by these thoughts, Felicity offered a completely unladylike solution out of the blue. She sat up suddenly, scanned the room for Emily, and shuffled to one side of the bed before gesturing.

'Get in.' Felicity said softly but with a hint of uncertainty that revealed her own internal struggle.

Logically, Emily knew she shouldn't. She had been reminding herself exactly why for the past few nights, and this seemed like a dangerous step in the wrong direction if she wanted to try and return to the distance they had maintained for five years - and yet now that seemed so far away.

She didn't stop herself. She couldn't stop herself. Her body longed to be by her Mistress, to be by Felicity. She gulped as she tried to quench the fire building up inside her, stood up, almost tripped on her night dress, and walked slowly towards Felicity. As she reached the bed, she could just about make out the red on Felicity's cheeks.

She lay down under the cover, which Felicity lowered to cover both of them before she lowered herself to be at eye level with Emily. They both stared at each other for a long while, looking deep into each other's eyes. There was no light anymore to make out much detail on Felicity's face, but she didn't need it to know that Felicity was just as flustered as she was, her breathing giving it away.

'You feel it too, don't you?' Felicity asked, almost pleading, finally breaking the silence in the room.

Emily tried to respond, but the words got stuck in her throat. The best she could manage was an affirmative grunt.

'I'm glad...' She paused for a moment before continuing on. 'If you feel anything like I do, how do you keep your composure? Every second I'm around you, it feels like my whole body is burning, like I'm unravelling at the very seams!'

'I...' Emily began, Felicity was staring deep into her eyes. 'I don't. I can't... it's hard.'

The moment she had finished speaking, Felicity reached across and quickly kissed her, completely out of the blue.

'That's payback. And this...'

Felicity kissed her again, deeper this time, wrapping her arm around Emily's shoulders to pull her in, pressing their bodies together so that no distance remained between the two of them.

'... is for me.' She said before diving back in to explore more of Emily's mouth.

Emily was caught entirely off guard, and it took a few long moments for Felicity to fervently kiss her before she recovered somewhat. When she finally did, her mind was telling her to pull back, but her body and her heart longed for more. She started to return the kiss, opening her mouth to let her tongue tangle with the other woman's for what felt like an eternity. Her hands went to Felicity's long golden hair, tangling in them as she simultaneously seemed to comb it and use it to push Felicity closer to her.

'You know... there's no skirt... in the way now!' Felicity declared excitedly when she separated from Emily and came up for a breath.

Catching her meaning, Emily slid her leg between Felicity's, eliciting a long and deep moan as it came into contact with her burning core. The feeling of the dampened fabric and the heat it contained was enough to drive Emily crazy as she started rubbing her thigh passionately against Felicity's drawers and the soaked lips beneath them.

As their mouths met again, they kissed with increased ferocity and passion. As they did, Felicity's moans shot deep into Emily, causing a great thirst deep within her. In response, Felicity lowered one of her hands from Emily's neck, dragging it down her body, gently grazing every curve before snaking its way down to Emily's own wet vagina.

Felicity's fingers immediately got to work, first snaking their way up and down the labia, coating themselves in Emily's juices before working their way up to her clitoris. This provoked a cry from Emily that was dampened only by Felicity coming back in for another deep kiss. Undeterred by the noise of the scream and the threat of being discovered that came with it, Felicity kept frantically rubbing Emily's clitoris.

Emily felt a wave of heat rising up from deep within her. As it did, all her other senses seemed to dull except the intense pleasure that came from her vagina. Sensing this, Felicity decided on a change of approach: keeping her thumb constantly working on the clitoris, she moved her hand lower and dove one finger into Emily's vagina.

The shock from this nearly drove Emily over the edge as her vision seemed to blur, and every sound seemed to be blocked out except for her frantic moans and Felicity's own sounds of ecstasy. Felicity didn't stop there; she withdrew the finger part of the way before plunging it rhythmically in and out of Emily's tight hole.

Just as Emily seemed to adapt to this, she added another finger in. This time, a piercing pain shot out of Emily's vagina, briefly overwhelming any sense of pleasure before it came back with an increased ferocity as Felicity's fingers settled back into their rhythm. After a few moments, this reached a fever pitch as Emily felt her entire body seem to violently shake, a scream escaping her mouth, which Felicity quickly attempted to quiet with her mouth.

After a few moments, Felicity withdrew her fingers from within Emily, causing a brief whimper to escape Emily's mouth. Felicity's fingers were slick with Emily's juices.

'I've never seen anyone experience so much pleasure.' Felicity said gently whilst looking lovingly into Emily's eyes.

Emily didn't reply. She couldn't reply - it felt like Felicity's fingers had driven her voice from her. After a few moments with no reply, Felicity looked down, where she noticed that, aside from just her juices, her fingers were also wet with Emily's blood. She had broken her hymen.

'Oh god. I'm so sorry... I didn't realise you were a virgin; you were so confident... I felt I... are you okay?' She asked shakily.

Emily looked quizzically at Felicity's panicked expression before tracing her gaze down to Felicity's hands and her crotch. She knew this could happen; her older sister had told her about this when she was younger. She just never expected it to happen - and certainly not to another woman.

When the pleasure faded and she felt she was able to collect herself, some of the pain started to return. Still, she looked at Felicity and smiled warmly.

'Yes, I'm okay.' She said, settling down on the bed and cuddling up next to Felicity before staring up into her eyes.

'You know, I still haven't come.' Felicity smiled down at her, before moving the covers aside to reveal the whole expanse of her beautiful legs.

Emily stared at them for a moment, then moved closer just as Felicity dropped her drawers and began to open up her legs, revealing her lower lips.

'Could you... with your mouth?' Felicity said, blushing.

Emily only gave a shallow nod and a smile before moving her head in, close enough to the other woman's vagina that she could smell the sweet scent that emanated from it. It was unlike anything she had smelled before, containing within it a complex aroma, much like her lips, of both the earthy and the sweet.

The closest thing she thought to compare it to, when considering this night later, was the fragrance of a lily, whose virtuous and sweet scent she had become so accustomed to in her childhood. Much like a lily, the heady smell of Felicity's core smell reminded her of spring. But there existed an almost spicy, entirely unexpected undercurrent there, one which felt sensual and almost demanded to be tasted.

She didn't let it down, and within a few moments, her lips were at the other woman's vagina. She started by slowly kissing up and down the labia, becoming accustomed to its size, shape and taste before she pulled back slightly, just enough to allow her tongue out to lap at the same spots she had just kissed.

What she wasn't expecting was the sheer potency of Felicity's taste, which immediately overwhelmed her, causing a shudder to run right down her body to her own vagina. The taste was more than anything she could have imagined. It was the sweet taste of spring, as she had expected from its smell. Still, there was also a distinct, almost bitter, aftertaste here, seemingly containing the characteristics of experience within it. Whatever this taste was, it overpowered her, causing both women to moan simultaneously.

It isn't long before Emily starts craving more, digging her tongue deep into the depths of the other woman's vagina, tasting every inch inside her. She pulled out, eliciting a deep shudder from Felicity, which was cut short as Emily dragged her tongue up to Felicity's clitoris, circling it for a few moments before tenderly biting down. A second, stronger shudder passed through all of Felicity's body, followed by a deep moan as she experienced an earth-shattering orgasm.

When Emily moved out from under Felicity, she was pulled in for a deep kiss and mumbled Felicity's name into her lips, eliciting a third, smaller shudder. She cuddled up against Felicity in the light of their joint post-orgasmic glow. She felt at this moment that great clarity and strength of feeling were washing over her. This warmth and glow was not the dull fuzziness or drunkenness she had heard it to be, but rather, it was a strength in and of itself.

Deep in her core, she knew that this feeling was not the result of one night of passion, a stray emotion misinterpreted in the tides of the thousands of hormones that rushed through her body. It wasn't even as if this night had awakened something in her - in either of them - it merely solidified what was already there, what had already been brewing, perhaps even since she first set eyes on Felicity five years previously. With this feeling still coursing through her, she ushered a last surge of courage to speak her feelings before she gave in to sleep. She took a deep breath.

'I love you.' She whispered before laying down and falling asleep.

10

They dozed for a while, arms wrapped around each other, bodies pressed together. In those moments when their slumber broke, hands never leaving their bodies, they explored each other, kissed each other, and loved each other with their hands and with their mouths. Neither of them had ever had orgasms like the ones they had that night, and they both knew that they would never again, with anyone else, find this connection.

During this time, what passed through Felicity's mind wasn't grief or self-pity, but rather relief. She was certain then that if this night was the last one they had together, then these moments would prove enough - she was sure. This night, this time, it had proved to Felicity that she could feel, that she could love and that she could be loved. She could look back on this night, on this time together, fondly.

Nothing could take this night away from them.

When the sun rose and the night had come to an end, it still didn't hurt any less when Emily pulled away and moved back to her chair in the corner. Deep down, she knew, of course, that she was still there - and she would still be there, by her side, for the foreseeable future. But this wasn't enough anymore; it was no longer enough just to see her, to love her from a distance; she wanted - she needed - to touch her, to taste her, to press their bodies together and scream their love with their hands.

Felicity turned away from Emily. She had to get up; her husband would be expecting her at breakfast.

The rest of the day was passed under this weight of the new, heightened tension between them. From the outside, nothing seemed vastly different from usual; they interacted with the same restraint, sparsity and tension, maintained the same careful distance, and drifted through the halls with Felicity's usual quiet aimlessness. To them, however, it was quite different. The tension was undeniable, but it was of a different sort - no longer a sign of decorum or discomfort. It was the tension and heat of repressed passion - and their wanderings were desperate attempts to find rooms where they might be alone.

When they were finally alone, late in the day when they could safely shut themselves in the drawing room with little risk of interruption, their restrained passions exploded. In a matter of seconds, the distance between them had closed, and Felicity had pushed Emily down onto the sofa - the same sofa she had tried to escape into just weeks earlier to escape Emily's pressure.

Now, however, she was claiming her. She started first with her face and her lips, kissing Emily with such ferocity as to almost drag the tongue out of her mouth. Then she moved slowly down her body, planting a series of kisses along her neck as she moved down to her chest.

Compared to Felicity, as a mere maid, Emily wasn't dressed with the same complex collection of multitudinous layers of cloth, making the whole undressing process relatively quick and easy. This suited the two of them perfectly, as they were now far from the slow and steady teasing of the first week.

The moment Felicity made her way through Emily's apron and work dress, she was presented with Emily's small chest, and she took no time to claim them as she did her mouth. First, her lips went to the left nipple, swirling the tongue around it whilst her right hand moved to Emily's corresponding nipple, tenderly and carefully pinching it. After the left nipple was thoroughly coated in Felicity's saliva, she moved to the right nipple. By the time she was satisfied with Emily's breasts, she was already moaning heavily, with the sound barely covered by the pillow she had moved to cover her face.

Satisfied with her arousal, Felicity moved down to her vagina, giving it a series of tender kisses up and down. She was already drenched. She drove her tongue as deep into her slit as possible, eliciting a scream whose sound led to redoubled efforts from Emily to silence herself. With her tongue now moving around deep inside Emily, it didn't take long before she was captured in another earth-shattering orgasm, the likes of which were only matched by the ones from the night before.

After she finished, Felicity and Emily quickly cleaned themselves up, restoring the room to much the same state as it was in before. What came over them now wasn't the ecstasy, joy, and relief of orgasm, nor was it happiness, but rather it was a deep sense of melancholy at the time they lost - and the time they will lose.

The source of the overwhelming sadness that now consumed them in the wake of their new relationship, despite their newfound love and passion, was the knowledge that it couldn't last forever. Neither of them, however, expected their happiness to last as little as it did.

11

A few days following, Felicity found herself unexpectedly joined by her husband at dinner. It was not characteristic of her husband to return so early, nor was it characteristic of him to be as talkative as she found him that evening.

'I must say, my dear, that I am quite happy to see you back in good spirits.'

Felicity gave a nod in response.

'I am especially relieved that your recovery has come in time for the ball I am hosting next weekend. You always did seem to enjoy such events.'

'Pardon?' Felicity stuttered, almost dropping her cutlery at the news.

Such balls were, despite her husband's claims to the contrary, amongst her most dreaded of her husband's regularly hosted events. These balls, unlike his garden parties or the yearly dinners he prepared for the neighbouring noblemen, were grander, longer, more formal, affairs that required her constant presence. And unlike these other events, what these balls also included was her husband showing her off to his noble friends.

Previously, she was able to get through such balls through regarding them as a consequence of high society life and largely running on autopilot through them. Now, however, the ball presented additional challenges for her relationship with Emily. These events required all staff to be present and working a week in advance and for the three days of the ball proper, leaving little room for any form of privacy. Additionally, as her room would be converted into a guest room for the course of the weekend, her husband would no doubt ask her to sleep with him.

'I'm sorry.' William smiled at her. 'Were you not aware?'

12

The next day, preparations for the ball were already well underway, and judging by the sheer number of staff crowding the halls, Felicity was quite certain that William had never hosted a ball of this scale before. And, as she predicted, this left little time for Felicity and Emily to be alone.

On one occasion, when they did find reprieve from the swarms of staff, they rushed off together to the grove, at which point Felicity began to explain her predicament.

'Surely they can't expect you to be there at all hours, can they? So all you really need to do is find some place to escape and I can meet you there.' Emily replied.

'Yes, but the entire house will be crawling with guests! There won't be one room with any decent amount of privacy.' Felicity complained as she grasped Emily's hand and brought it to her breast.

Emily thought for a moment before responding.

'We could try the wine cellar? If we can time it for when they've just restocked we should have quite a few hours down there without any interruption.'

'I don't have a key. They've never trusted me down there, and certainly won't start trusting me now. Only William and his butler have any keys for the cellar.' Felicity complained, slowly stroking the back of Emily's hand.

'Then why not just steal one?'

13

The night before the ball began was the time Felicity had chosen to steal the key from her husband.

Though her husband had been around the house (and around Felicity) far more frequently in the days leading up to the event, she had rarely seen his keys - let alone had any opportunity to steal them. The only viable chance she had, and the one she had decided upon after much anxious deliberation, was when he took his evening bath.

Her plan was simple: when her husband went to bathe, she would follow just a few minutes behind him. From the information Emily had managed to glean from amongst some of the other maids, William undressed in the changing room just before entering the attached bathroom, leaving his clothes - and most importantly, his keys - relatively vulnerable. Felicity would sneak it, find his keys, extract the cellar key and then rush off back to his room (which she now shared with him) to hide the key amongst her things for the next day, which Emily would pick up when she cleaned their room.

It was late that evening that William finally decided to take a bath. He had been walking anxiously around for hours, shouting last-minute orders at the staff, and Felicity had begun to worry that he wouldn't bathe. When he did finally decide to bathe, Felicity was so visibly worked up that her husband paused, regarding her with a look of mild concern as if suspecting she was on the verge of having another fit.

Nevertheless, she couldn't abandon the plan now, not when she was this close. After her husband had left for the bath she waited in the doorway. Emily would give her a signal when the coast was clear. All this waiting was making her lightheaded, and she wasn't sure she could trust herself to move, let alone use her hands to find the keys amongst the piles of his clothes.

Emily walked past and nodded at her. That was the signal.

She started down the hallway, tripping over her own feet and giving her all to be as quiet as possible. Not a minute later, she was at the doorway, hands held uncertainly by the door handle. She took a deep breath and slowly turned the handle, opening the door just wide enough to creep through.

Creak.

Her heart skipped a beat. She had failed to account for the noise of the door or her husband being disturbed whilst in the bath. She snuck into the room anyway, but not before she heard William's voice booming from the bathroom at the other end. He couldn't see in, but the bath was just around the corner.

'Who's there!' He demanded.

'S-sorry, dear, it's only me. I was just wondering how long you were going to take...' She thought for a moment, trying to think of any excuse for being here. 'It is that time of the month after all...' She pinched herself; she didn't want to give herself more to him, especially not now that she had Emily, but that was all she could think of.

William chuckled, and Felicity could hear the water splash around him. Good - this meant he was still in the bath. She still had time. Without wasting a second, she shuffled closer to his clothes. She'd check the pockets of his overcoat first. From this angle, she could just about make out the edge of the bath. Luckily, it didn't seem like he was at that end of the bath.

'You don't have to worry dear. I'll be out in a second. There will be plenty of time for you after. Now, hurry on back to the room.' He said, his voice practically dripping with entitlement.

She should have expected her husband to be this dismissive and panicking as she hadn't found the keys yet, but she needed to think quickly of something else to say.

'Are you sure? Is there enough time with the ball tomorrow?' She asked desperately, trying anything to excuse her presence.

As she said that, she had finished searching the last pocket of his overcoat. There weren't that many other places where they could possibly be.

Just as she was withdrawing her shaky hands from the last pocket of his overcoat, it fell to the floor with a clank, revealing an inside pocket she hadn't checked before. There were his keys.

'What was that?' He demanded with a splash. He had just stood up in the bath.

'N-nothing, I just accidentally knocked your overcoat dear. Don't worry, I'll pick it up.' Felicity pleaded desperately, dropping to her knees as her hands moved to the inside pocket of the overcoat.

This didn't seem to be enough, as she heard two more splashes before long as William heaved himself out of the bath. She had only just managed to unbutton the pocket.

'It's fine. I'm out of the bath now.' William said gruffly from the other room.

Felicity stood hurriedly, hands planted in the inner pocket, fiddling with the key chain whilst she looked for the cellar key. She found it just as his shadow settled around the corner. By the time he had stepped into the room, half-dried and with a towel wrapped around his waist, she had just managed to unclip the cellar key, the smallest of the lot, but had yet to hang the overcoat back up.

'Be careful with that.' William said sternly, walking towards her. 'I can't afford for it to be damaged this close to the ball.'

She quickly hung the overcoat back up, the key still grasped tightly in her fist, just as William came towards her and locked her in a hug. The moment William released her she quickly turned around, made her apologies, and rushed back to the room, her heart still racing by the time she got there.

14

The ball was just as crowded, if not more so, than she had anticipated. Each and every room seemed to be filled to the brim with guests, each of whom her husband took the entire first day parading her in front of, making introductions and re-introductions. By the time it was finally over, she felt positively sick and desired greatly to feel and be felt by Emily, but despite their best plans, there was no opportunity when both of them were free for more than a minute. She had to satisfy herself with longing gazes, and hands brushed against each other as they passed.

When the first day drew to a close, her husband still rushing around, brimming with excitement and jubilation at the unprecedented success of the event, Felicity finally had some alone time with Emily. They didn't do anything or even say much; they just stood in the hall, leaning against the wall, their fingers interlocked and just out of public view. Before she pulled away, Felicity turned one last time, looked deep into Emily's eyes, and whispered:

'I love you.'

The following day, her husband and the remaining guests had settled into a sort of rhythm. With all the introductions and courtesies of the first day out of the way, her duties were thankfully much diminished, which meant as long as she was there when people were looking for her (which was never very often), she was largely left on her own, free to track Emily as she shuffled around the halls serving the guests.

She knew what she was waiting for. When Emily was free, and the butler had freshly stocked the wine from the cellar, she would give her a signal: hands clasped behind her back and a subtle nod in her direction. This would be her cue to move slowly from the main hall and to the servants' quarters, which were now littered with the rare guests playing cards or in some other way entertaining themselves away from the epicentre of the ball. When in the servant's quarters and when no one was looking, she would make her way down the stairs where Emily would be waiting for her.

When the signal finally came, Felicity was so tense that she practically bolted out of the room, drawing some attention from those nearby but not enough to warrant investigation. She rushed into the servant's quarters, nearly tripped down the stairs, and when she did make it through the now unlocked door to the wine cellar, she threw herself into Emily's arms and kissed her with such force that she went tumbling back, nearly falling into the rack behind them.

Emily returned the kiss with equal ferocity and need, laughing into it as they went. By the time they had released each other, they had settled onto the floor, their arms firmly grasped around each other, and they panted and looked deep into the other woman's eyes.

They couldn't keep their lips off each other for long. Soon, their hands were working in tandem, rapidly unfastening buttons, peeling away bodices and skirts, and ripping off corsets with none of the reverence and care that had defined their earlier encounter. Here, the journey was deemed far less important than the tantalising flesh that awaited both women below the outer layers of fabric.

When they finally reached each other's skin, it took no time at all for their hands to travel south to the other woman's vagina as their mouths took up devouring each other again. In the sheer frenzy and unrestrained passion of the moment, there was nothing that could stop them. Felicity certainly didn't want to stop, as the moment she and Emily were done with one orgasm, she was already trailing her mouth down Emily's long and bony body, finally coming to a halt as she reached Emily's drenched treasure, determined to repay the favour from their first night together.

The pleasure of it proved too much for Emily. The moment Felicity's mouth came to tenderly stroke her slit, she flung her head back with a moan of pleasure, drowned out only by the noise of the guests above them.

Amongst those guests, her husband had just discovered that his guests were undersupplied with a certain vintage from the south of France. Upon determining to quickly fetch it himself, he discovered too that his key to the cellar was missing. The dots had already connected in his mind - more than one gardener had been privy to their private meetings in the grove, and he would have had to be blind not to see the other signs.

He wasn't angry, not in the slightest; the taint would soon be cleansed in as public a manner as possible to maximise its success, and then his little bird would be all his forever after. He had to remind himself that it would be unfortunate, of course, if his wife were implicated in this. Still, the damage to his reputation was nothing that couldn't be recovered - especially if the rest of his plan played out as expected. With all that being considered, he could not be happier about his wife's little affair.

15

The moment Emily had been brought to one thundering orgasm, the women were already preparing for their next. With hands clasped together, their legs were bare and open, with both of their vaginas brought together as they began to pulse with increasing fervour, rubbing their most pleasurable and sensitive areas together. Both women were just moments away from an orgasm, the floor and their legs drenched in each other's juices, when they heard a noise from above.

The loud, heavy, and unmistakable footsteps of her husband were above their heads, walking slowly towards the stairs that led down to the cellar.

Felicity's heart sank as she realised who it was, and she looked at Emily with an unbridled look of fear and desperation. She knew she had messed up; she knew her husband would find out - that everyone would find out - and that their relationship, whatever it was, was now over.

Whilst Felicity was stuck in a panic, Emily was faster to react as she pushed Felicity away and handed her her clothes before directing her into an adjoining room, but not before bringing down some of the glasses of wine behind her to distract from the state of the floor.

'Take these and hide!' She whispered as she frantically began to put her own clothes back on.

'What about you?' Felicity said, turning around right before entering the room.

'One of us needs to take the fall.' Emily gave one last shy smile before turning away.

That smile was the last thing Felicity saw of Emily before a group of men, led by her husband, rushed into the room. Somehow, in the confusion of it all, she later managed to escape upstairs.

Part 2:

The first thing to go was the gardens.

That was a risky move; William knew that much. But he also knew how important it was to clip a bird's wings before it could get a taste of freedom. The bird that has never experienced true freedom will be content with the cage.

The next thing to go was the piano.

It was important here that the piano should be held tantalisingly close. The bird must be tempted to sing; for that purpose, it must still be in the metaphorical cage but must be reminded at all times why it must never free its voice. One does not keep a pet bird to hear it sing.

The next to go was its privacy.

Privacy is an inconvenient freedom that so many feel they are deserving of. They abuse this privacy: they use it to plan and plot, and so often, it only ends up hurting them. In truth, William saw this as a kindness. By providing his bird with a shadow, a maid so similar in appearance, he was protecting its natural beauty.

When faced with great danger, it is within the behaviour of many birds to enter a state of thanatosis. In this state, it becomes stiff but never lifeless: natural processes are slowed, and its beauty is preserved. Here, the bird is at its purest and most beautiful - when it is closest to its final state, its perfect state - it is completely undisturbed by natural processes that might dirty its natural beauty. But this has one advantage over death: in thanatosis, one's beauty does not decay.

A woman is much the same as any bird: it too can be taught to fear, to forget freedom, and to give in to the natural beauty of death. The key difference between the two is that a woman, much like any man, has far stronger desires. These prohibit its wings from being so easily clipped and its life from being so easily frozen - these necessitate a longer process, a gradual closing of the cage before the final step.

It is important to note that if one were to instantly put a woman in a cage, it would panic; it would do anything to achieve its freedom and, as William's first wife had demonstrated, so often do they hurt themselves. Instead, freedoms must be slowly taken away: what it perceives as its natural state must be slowly tightened as a noose around its neck. Soon, the cage will be its natural state; it will grow to like and even appreciate its cage.

When in its cage, the only thing left to take is its free will.

His bird's fit has been unexpected. He had seen such behaviours before in his first wife towards the end, but this one recovered; this one accepted yet more tightening of its noose; this pretty bird had seemed so perfect. Yet, just as he was preparing for the final step, it sang.

He had provided it with a mate. This mate had sung to it of freedom, of life outside the cage, of childhood, and even of love. It was true; for a few days, he felt defeated - like this one mistake had ruined a plan fifteen years in the making. Yet no sooner had he settled into his dejection than he realised what opportunity this had given to him. He would use this to teach his bird about the dangers of freedom and to remind his bird of the natural state of all things.

Even if the plan proceeded exactly as he had initially desired, he would still have been struck with the problem of how to elicit a fear of death. He had devised a few plans at first, including a slow poisoning followed by a slower period of recovery to remind her of how easily life and health could be ripped from her, but after mistakes made with his first wife, he had decided that such strategies were too risky. But life seemed to offer up a perfect solution - to prove to his little bird, above all else, that it was not worth living free and how easily everything could be ripped away from her.

It is ironic, he thought, that the fear of death is what brings us closest to death.

16

Felicity was now perfect. She had fully matured exactly as William had projected, and despite some hiccoughs along the way, she was now exactly as he wanted her: she was dead to the world.

At all times, she could be exactly where and exactly how he wanted her. No longer would she wander the house, no longer could she evade him, no longer could she eat without him, sleep without him - fuck without him. Every strand of her hair would be precisely as he designed it to be, and each and every dress would be as he chose. With her now perfect, he no longer allowed any maid near her. He would take care of her perfectly.

Naturally, to the outside world, he was just taking care of his wife and doing the duty of a husband. He even deigned to allow doctors to routinely visit to give their opinion of just how inexplicable and hopeless her condition was and how selfless he was to be taking time out each and every day to look after her.

One part of this process was taking her for walks around the grounds in her wheelchair. In what William had always considered an insult to himself and his immaculate style, Felicity had never liked the gardens - he knew that, too. However, it's not as if she could object to being taken around them now anyway - she couldn't even eat without him.

There was little that he didn't know about her. From the first moment he laid eyes on her when she was running free in her mother's old and rundown estate, he had spared no expense in finding out everything about her. Even after they were married, he had people follow her at all hours. There was nothing she did or could do that he wouldn't find out about after.

These little walks formed the majority of what they did together, and if she were lucky William would take her with him to visit nearby nobles. He would show her off, his perfect little bird clipped and groomed exactly as he desired. She didn't know it, and wouldn't appreciate it if she did, but she was more beautiful now than she ever was before.

'She is so lucky to have a husband like you! Look how beautiful and well-kept she is!' The neighbouring baron's wife had cooed at one of their regular get-togethers.

'Indeed. I'd even say she looks healthier now than she ever did before!' The baron chuckled.

'She never did do her health any favours before, you know? Always locked up inside, I don't know how you dealt with her. I certainly couldn't if my wife was like that!' The baron whispered, just loud enough for his wife to hear, as he leaned into William conspiratorily.

'You're such a saint!' The baron's wife replied as she gave a full belly laugh at her husband's statement.

Yes, it was true, he thought; he really was a saint. He was selfless; everything he did was for the betterment of his wife. He was ensuring that she was preserved in her beauty and that no harm could come to her through any more of her mistakes. And if he should get some little benefit out of it, then really, it was only fair - he had spent fifteen years perfecting her, after all.

17

The next few weeks, then months, then years were spent in this perfect daze. William was happy knowing he had complete control of his wife. No one would touch her without his say-so, and as she couldn't exactly move herself, she would sit there, precisely as he had left her, waiting for him to come and move her.

As for Felicity, she was locked in a state of limbo. Her senses would still perceive what was going on around her, but she could never recognise them, never respond to them. The ache that she had known as boredom was now her life; every sense and feeling was filtered through it until it was all that remained.

One day, her husband was taking her for a walk in the evening through the moors. Through the light of the evening, none of the colours of the moors remained, only the feeling of mud underfoot and the heather brushing against their feet. Not that Felicity could recognise any of it, it was all the same to her - a vast expanse of nothing.

William was droning on about something. He often did on walks like these, talking without end about anything and everything. This time seemed no different than the rest, with the usual suspects featuring in his speech: a refrain of 'love', of 'beauty', of 'perfect', and, of course, his characteristic pauses. Felicity was dead to it all.

But then, through the rain that was just beginning to pour and the heavy wind beside it, a soft sound, a feminine voice, carried through to her ears, piercing the fog that consumed her and waking her from her slumber.

'Felicity'

It was no more than a whisper; she couldn't even be sure it was real. But there was something so familiar about it and genuinely real that she was jolted awake. She started to look around slowly, scanning the moorlands to try and pick anything out in the gloom.

William didn't notice, he didn't hear any sound but the wind and his own voice, and he was too absorbed in his own rambling speech to notice his wife's sudden unusual activity.

'Felicity'

There it was again. Louder now and unmistakably real. Someone was there - Emily was nearby, calling for her - Emily was there! She couldn't believe she had forgotten about Emily, and all of a sudden, the fog encompassing her broke, and she threw herself off the wheelchair in a panic.

She had to find her; she had to find Emily.

She tried to walk, but her legs were too weak to manage more than a few steps, so instead, she crawled and screamed. She wasn't even sure she was making much sound. She hadn't spoken in years. All she knew was she had to find her.

Before she could, however, William had rushed forward. He firmly pulled her frail body back to the wheelchair before he started furiously pushing her back to the house, Felicity still screaming. He wasn't sure what had happened, but he prayed it was an anomaly and she would soon return to her usual passive self.

18

Despite his best hopes (and efforts to the contrary), Felicity made remarkable progress in her recovery. Although she didn't speak again following that one evening on the moors, she was notably more active, and after just a few days, she had started walking the house again.

A week later, the staff had to restrain Felicity when she was found attempting to leave the house.

Felicity was not deterred. She would find any opportunity to make her way out of the house, and when that wasn't possible, she'd work her way to the upstairs window, trying desperately to find Emily - convinced as she was that she was somewhere nearby.

These developments continued to infuriate who tried everything in his power to avoid 'exciting' her. His first attempt was to try and lock her completely inside the house, but that was reliant on having the staff present to ensure her imprisonment. He then attempted to lock her inside her room, but even this proved futile as she managed to break out.

On his next visit, the doctor was startled by her sudden frenetic excitement and, believing further attempts to restrict her might predict future instabilities, he firmly - and importantly for William, publicly - urged towards a liberal course of treatment.

This left William with only more drastic but equally subtle options.

19

Felicity was desperate. Every day since the doctor's visit, she had attempted to push the liberal treatment policy to its limits, taking every opportunity to search, which was always in vain, for Emily. And every day, she had found it only more difficult. She intended for this day to be no different, but was instead overtaken by an almost overpowering sense of fatigue.

For now, she sat at the vanity in the corner of the room she now shared with her husband, half-heartedly combing her hair that had lost its softness and turned wiry. Her once beautiful skin was blemished, her face was pale, and the skin under her eyes sagged. The lilies that once decorated the desk now drooped lifelessly in their vases.

Her husband approached her slowly, his body stiff and his face adopting a veneer of concern. He slowly grabbed her hand, coaxing the brush out of it, before resuming the brushing himself. Felicity was grateful for this; her body had felt so weak that even these simple tasks were becoming more and more difficult.

'You can leave this to me.' William said softly as he carried on combing her hair. 'You just need to rest, you've looked so tired recently.'

'I'm fine.' She insisted, but her voice sounded hoarse and thin even to her.

She knew it was a lie, but she didn't know what had come over her, nor did she have the courage necessary to vocalise it. She had been having fits of dizziness since a few days back; these fits were always accompanied by strange fleeting moments of numbness where even her limbs felt foreign to her.

After putting down the comb, William stepped further forward so that he stood at her side before he proceeded to pull out a small glass vial. With her head as foggy as it was, she couldn't figure out what was written on the label, if anything was at all. She had grown familiar to it by now.

'The doctor has recommended a higher dose. It should help calm your nerves.'

Felicity stared at her husband with empty eyes before she took hold of the vial in his hand and briskly drank it down.

20

The effect was immediate. Just a few moments after drinking from the vial, Felicity slumped down in her chair, her chest leaning forward, her mouth still open, and her hands falling limp by her side as she dropped the vial to the floor.

'Oh my poor Felicity. I was left with no other choice...' William cooed as he gently picked her up and carried her towards their bed. She was thin now and much easier to carry, having lost her figure and seemingly all the fat on her body.

'Oh, but you'll be beautiful again... I just needed to calm you down.' He said as he laid her out on the bed, arms crossed around her chest and hair neatly combed back.

21

After being let go, Emily had never intended to return. This was cemented further when she was employed by a local pastor as a teacher in a nearby village, thanks to her literacy and higher-than-average education for a commoner. There was no future in life with Emily; she knew that the moment their relationship began. Besides, any further contact would pose too many risks to the new life she found and the life Felicity still had.

She had managed to convince herself of this for a couple of years, even if Felicity was still so near, no more than a day's journey away. But then, one day, some fancy overtook her: she might see her love again. Before she knew it, she had already made half the journey, her feet mindlessly carrying her in the direction of the house she had worked in for five years.

She wasn't sure what she expected upon approaching the house. Felicity, pushed around in a wheelchair by her husband in the moorlands, was certainly not it.

The sight shocked her; it disturbed her. She wasn't sure she knew Felicity, not entirely, but she was certain she knew enough to know this wasn't her. She wouldn't allow herself to be led around like that - she had seen Felicity fight for some freedoms.

Fixated on this sight, Emily called her name gently, more to hear it roll off her tongue as it had in the past than to be heard. It reached her anyway, and the sight of Felicity desperately searching for her, only to be dragged away, broke her heart.

It was here that she resolved to return for her each Sunday. She wasn't quite sure for what: whether to free her, to take her back, or simply to be there watching over her. Every weekend, after finishing teaching for the week, she would make her way to the neighbouring village, where she would take a boat out, crossing the lake to the house on the other side.

Each time, she would make her way from the shore to the top of a nearby hill that overlooked the house. And each time, she would look out for Felicity, only leaving when she caught sight of her. Each time, Felicity looked even more desperate, and Emily's heart hurt more.

Until one day, she stopped appearing. Emily stayed late into the night, searching for her. Yet, even daring to get as close as the gardens, Emily caught no sight of her. After a couple more weeks passed, with still no sight of her, Felicity's anxieties could no longer be repressed.

The next week, after obscuring her identity with a cloak, she approached the edge of the grounds, where she knew she would find some of the staff. To her luck, she found Anne, a maid who joined just after her and who, she knew from experience, had quite a loose tongue and would, with just a little incentive, be more than willing to share all she knew.

Approaching her with a small handful of coins prepared as a bribe - which Anne instantly took note of - Emily asked after Felicity after exchanging a brief greeting.

'The lady of the house, do you know where she is, what happened to her? I haven't seen her around...' Emily began before pausing suddenly, barely containing her desperation.

'Well miss', Anne hesitated for a moment, 'The mistress has taken ill and has been confined to her room for the time being. Should I say whose been asking after her?'

'No.' Emily said as she proffered the money, clearly looking for a less-official response. 'Could I ask though, what has she come down with?'

'Well, miss, just between you and I, some of the maids have been saying that the master didn't seem to appreciate her earlier recovery, if you catch my meaning...'

Emily didn't need to hear the rest; this already confirmed some of her suspicions. William was doing this to her - he was controlling her, poisoning her, maybe. She felt herself spiralling into a deep pit of rage with every step she took. She knew now that she needed to free her.

22

Emily did not take a long time to plan it out. On the contrary, she was determined to perform the rescue that very same evening. She would break in using the back staff entrance whilst everyone was sleeping, as she knew it was often left unlocked throughout the night, and then she would proceed slowly to William's room and, without him noticing, attempt to break her out.

That was the plan, at least. So far, she had made it into the house and up to the room they now shared but was confronted by a major problem: how was she to get past William?

From her vantage point just outside the room, where she was hidden just far enough away that she was certain he couldn't hear the rapid thump of her heart or her panicked breathing, she could see William pacing the room, slowly grooming an utterly immobile Felicity who lay powerless and feeble on the bed. He had been at it for the last half an hour and, to Emily's relief as it meant she still had a chance, had yet to bathe.

She sat there for what felt like hours, her mind racing as she considered how she was going to smuggle Felicity out of there in her weakened state, before finally William finished up. He placed the brush down on the bedside table before leaning down and kissing Felicity on the forehead as he whispered a brief goodbye in her ear.

This was her chance.

The moment he had left the room and was safely around the corner, Emily leapt out and rushed into the room where she perched by Felicity's side, weeping.

'What has he done to you?' Emily mumbled as she took Felicity's frail body into her arms.

This seemed to awaken something in Felicity as her eyes opened, and she looked longingly into Emily's face.

'You came back.' Felicity whispered hoarsely, eliciting another bout of tears from the grief-stricken Emily. 'He... he was poisonig me.' She said, joining Emily in sobbing.

'I know, and I'm sorry, but now I'm going to -' Emily began, but before she could progress any further, a large figure ran towards her, yelling, before roughly pulling Emily away from Felicity's side and tossing her to the ground.

'Get away from my wife!' William yelled as he took a few more steps towards Emily.

William looked more monstrous in his current state of undress as his body dripped with a mixture of sweat, water from the bath, and whatever he had used to bathe, which combined to give his body an unnatural glean. With his hairy arms, monstrous legs that still seemed unsuitable to carry the full extent of his weight, and large protruding belly completely exposed, only his groin was covered by a flimsy pair of drawers. With the sweat pooling down his reddened face, his appearance was terrifying, but not enough to overwhelm the extreme anger that Emily felt towards him.

As William took another swing at her, Emily scrambled out of the way, grabbing hold of the vanity as she got to her feet. Before William could quite recover, Emily had begun grabbing hold of whatever objects lay atop the vanity and chucking them at him, slowing his progress and evoking another roar.

She backed away further as William started making his way towards her. This time, she grabbed hold of a nearby chair, holding it above her head and swinging it down with as much force as she could muster as William made his way towards her.

The chair broke around William's head but was futile in stopping him as he continued barreling towards her, smashing his bare shoulder into her chest and sending her tumbling back into the wall. Before she could recover, William had grabbed her firmly by the neck with one hand, lifting her up and dragging her along the wall.

'Stop, please stop this, don't kill her.' Felicity pleaded from across the room as she started to rise from the bed, using all the energy she could muster.

It was no use. William's grip only tightened around Felicity's neck as she felt herself begin to lose consciousness, her hands grasping desperately at a nearby desk to catch hold of anything that she could use to try and break his grip.

Just as she was beginning to lose consciousness, she grabbed hold of the lantern, the only source of light in the room, and smashed it with all her might into the side of William's head.

The lantern shattered on impact, and the flame inside seemed to explode, igniting further on whatever mixture William had used to bathe. With the flame now covering his already bleeding head and quickly spreading to the curtains that decorated the room, William screamed and stumbled back, dropping Emily to the floor.

Emily backed away from the burning man, urgently trying to catch her breath as she made her way to the other side of the room. With William still desperately flailing in the opposite corner, igniting even more of the room, Emily rose to her feet unsteadily and began making her way towards Felicity, who looked at her burning husband in horror.

'Can you walk?' Emily asked as she made her way to Felicity's side.

Felicity nodded as she slowly attempted to stand up but stumbled into Emily's side. Her legs were weak and couldn't support her anymore, but they had just enough strength left in them to walk slowly with Emily's assistance. She grasped Felicity by the arms, choking a bit on the smoke, as they began to slowly make their way out of the burning room, with the flame having started to engulf the bed as they made their exit.

Before they left, Emily turned once more to face William, now writhing pitifully on the floor as he called out with one last furious cry for his wife. She shut the door, locking him inside.

The couple slowly made their way through the house. As they did, the staff began to gather, screaming for help as they rushed towards the now-burning master bedroom. A few of them noticed the two women stumbling towards the exit, and one or two even stopped, but none of them thought to question them.

23

Emily gently lowered Felicity down into the small boat waiting on the shore. She untied the boat, her hands trembling, climbed in, and pushed off from the shore, the oars dipping into the dark water below them. The house was barely visible now; only its roof was clear above the treetops - all of it now engulfed in flame.

Felicity hadn't said a word to her since they left the house. She wasn't certain Felicity had the energy to speak. She worried what she might feel - that if she could speak, she would scorn her, that she would blame her. That she would hate her.

She quieted these thoughts. She did what she had to to save her - she could live with that. And if she hated her and never wanted to see her again, it would hurt, but she could live with that, too.

Emily sighed, then turned to look back at Emily. She was beautiful, even now, tired and frail as she was, and she felt a deep sense of love for her rising up from within.

She gazed longingly into her eyes, and Felicity gazed back.

As the wind whistled past, and the light of the moon shone down on the two women, the oars slowed, and the waves slowly washed against the side of the boat.

The End