Two - Acquaintance

Elizabeth stared out a large window onto the monochromatic landscape. Her expression was distant and she twisted a small piece of edging on her mossy-green gown as she took in the manor grounds.

"He won't hurt you."

The masculine voice startled her, and she gasped slightly as she turned to face the person who had intruded her thoughts. She took in a red-haired man of about twenty-five, with kind eyes and a gentle smile. One fine, blond eyebrow arched.

The man spoke again. "He might never love you, but he'll see to it that you're well taken care of." Noting her confusion, his smile grew slightly wider. "My name is Daniel. Will is my older brother. And you must be my new sister."

"I am Elizabeth Winterton," the blonde said. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Daniel. And I am not your sister yet."

"But you may as well be," he replied with a wry smile. "And you will be my sister, by law, in less than two days' time."

My last two days of freedom, she lamented internally. "I have no wish to wed your brother," she said.

"You are forced into this union?" he asked concernedly.

"I'm afraid it's so," Elizabeth returned with a small frown. "Your home is very beautiful," she said, hoping to change the subject.

"Perhaps one day you will view it as your own home as well," Daniel said gently.

"As long as I am a prisoner here, it will be nothing more than that." She turned, staring out the window again. A small, sharp laugh escaped her throat. "Love matters not," she murmured.

~*~*~*~*~

A brown paper-covered box landed at Elizabeth's feet as she stood next to her armoire. She looked up to see Lord William standing in the doorway of her room. "It was my mother's," he said quietly. "I will send someone to help you into it." He left as silently as he had approached, disappearing down the hallway.

Elizabeth warily picked up the box, untying the white cord that held the paper wrapping closed. She placed the box on her bed, pulled aside the paper, and lifted the lid. Inside lay a cream-white gown of the finest silk, with lace edging and a smattering of pearls. She took up the gown, admiring it.

A knock sounded at the doorframe. "Milady," a timid female voice said. "Lord William sent me up here for you."

The blonde glanced toward the door. "Come in," she said. The girl with mousy-brown hair entered the room, closing the door behind her. Elizabeth held the gown up. "It's very beautiful," she murmured. She turned to the girl again. "What is your name?"

"Tara, milady." Her gaze dropped to the floor.

"Tara? Unusual name," Elizabeth mused. "I like it. Could you help me put the gown on, Tara?"

The girl nodded, and Elizabeth unzipped the mossy-green confection she was wearing, pulling it off her shoulders and stepping out of it. Now clad in her front-lacing corset and a linen shift, she picked up the wedding gown again. She pulled it up her legs and slid her arms into the sleeves, then turned her back on Tara and allowed her to fasten the row of tiny pearl buttons that were placed up the back.

Tara made quick work of the buttons, and Elizabeth stepped toward her mirror. "Oh, it is lovely," she whispered. "I hadn't thought it would fit quite so well." She turned around. "What do you think?"

"It's a very nice dress," Tara replied.

"Perhaps we need a male opinion, just to make sure," Elizabeth suggested. "Is Daniel about?"

"Not Lord William?"

Elizabeth laughed, though it did not reach her eyes. "I may not want to marry your lord," she said, "but I do remember that it's bad luck for a groom to see his bride in her wedding finery before they are married."

"I shall fetch master Daniel then," Tara said, hurrying from the room.

Elizabeth continued to admire herself in the mirror until Tara arrived with Daniel. "Do you like it?" Elizabeth asked.

"It matters not what I think of it, but what Will's reaction will be," Daniel said. "And I think he will be awestruck by your radiance."

Elizabeth blushed. "That is no way to speak to your sister," she chided.

"So you have decided you will become my sister, then," Daniel said happily.

She shook her head. "More like, I've resigned myself to that fact," she replied. "Now if you'll excuse me, my dear near-brother, I'd like Tara to help me out of this."

Daniel smiled and nodded, then left, the latch of the door clicking shut behind him. "He's very charming," Elizabeth said as she braced herself with one arm against the wall, while Tara unfastened the dozens of buttons. "I do hope that once I'm settled in I can find him a good match."

Tara finished unbuttoning her gown faster than she'd closed it up, and Elizabeth took it off, placing it back in the box. She smoothed one hand over the silk once more, then reached for her other gown, which she quickly put on.

"I do believe I shall go exploring. This will, after all, be my home." The last words held a hint of weariness. She shook it off, flouncing from the room.

Within a half-hour, she'd discovered a large library, and one of the servants [who'd possibly been following her the entire time] had built a roaring fire in the fireplace. She plucked a book from one of the shelves, then pulled a chair up close to the fire and sat down to read.

The warmth of the fire, however, made her tired, and her hands soon fell limp in her lap, book forgotten, as she dozed off. She was sleeping peacefully when William found her. One of the servants had told him where she was, and he'd brought a teatray with him, setting it down on a side table when he entered the room.

He gazed at her for a long while as she sat, curled in the chair before the fire, one hand still atop the book. She stirred slightly, a small mumble escaping her lips as she slept. Realizing his actions, William shook himself slightly and cleared his throat.

Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open and she stretched, then stood to face him. She tilted her head, waiting for him to speak. "What is it, Lord William?" she asked finally.

His throat worked spasmodically and he cleared it again. "I... erm..." his gaze shot to the nearly-forgotten teatray. "Tea?" he asked weakly.

She nodded. "Two lumps, please."

He put the sugar cubes into her cup, filled it, then poured himself a cup as well. The fine, bone china cups clattered slightly in their saucers as his subtly trembling hands held them, and he cursed himself for being as nervous as a schoolboy with his first woman when he was around her. He handed Elizabeth the cup and she allowed it to warm her hands.

"I want to thank you," she said, "for the beautiful gown. It fits me perfectly."

"I thought it - " he cut himself off, his gaze dropping to his tea. "Think nothing of it," he said gruffly. "Every bride, no matter how unwilling, deserves to look their best."

A slightly tense silence fell upon them, broken only by the sounds of china against china. "Is there a skating pond on the grounds?" Elizabeth asked suddenly, desperate to break the tension.

William's head shot up in surprise. "There is," he replied, "but nobody's used it since I was a young boy. Do you ice skate?"

She smiled. "It is one of my favorite winter activities."

Later, he would wonder why he was so eager to please her. "Then we shall go skating," he decreed. "Though I must admit, I am sorely out of practice."

~*~*~*~*~

"You know, you're not as horrible as I thought you were," Elizabeth called from across the pond. She looked laughingly on as William wobbled slightly on his skates. "I think, perhaps under different circumstances, that we could've been friends."

"Horrible?" William exclaimed, turning to face her. The quick motion sent him sprawling onto the ice with a shout. He pouted as she skated closer to him. "I'm not horrible," he said petulantly.

Elizabeth offered him a hand and he grasped it firmly, scrambling to his feet. "Perhaps not. Arrogant, definitely." With that said, she was off like a shot, racing to the other side again.

He chased carefully after her, hoping not to fall, and skidded to a halt before her. "When have I ever been arrogant?" he demanded.

She cleared her throat. "This one will look good on my arm," she mocked in a deep voice. "You can't possibly deny the arrogance in that."

He gaped at her for a moment. "That wasn't arrogance," William said finally. "That was truth." He looped his arm through hers. "You do look good on my arm." She leaned into him slightly, and he abruptly pulled away, causing her to lose her balance and thump down onto the ice. She rose to her feet, skating away from him and brushing herself off.

"Why haven't you skated here in so long?" she called as she glided smoothly across the ice. She circled the pond and then started skating in a tight ring around William.

"Do you see this?" he asked, the tip of one long finger coming to rest just to the side of a wicked-looking scar on his left eyebrow. She nodded and he continued. "When I was six, my father and I were out here. I fell and slid across the ice, colliding with the blade of his skate. He forbade me to come out her again, he was so worried that I would put an eye out."

Ice flakes sprayed at her feet as she stopped. She pulled off one glove. "Can I...?" She trailed off, reaching up slowly. When he didn't move away, her cool fingertips brushed over his scarred brow. He flinched slightly, but quickly relaxed. "Did it hurt much?" she asked as she took her hand away and put her glove back on.

William kicked himself internally as he stifled the tiny whimper that had bubbled up in his throat at the loss of contact. He nodded, tearing his gaze from her face, and focussed on a large, leafless tree behind her. "Nearly fainted dead away when it happened. Gave my father quite a fright, too." He pursed his lips. "But this is not a subject that a lady should hear about," he said sternly. "Especially if she is to become the new Lady Bradley." He frowned when all emotion seemed to leave her face at the mention of their arranged marriage.

"I think you will find, Lord William, that I am more than capableof hearing about such subjects," Elizabeth said coolly. She prepared to skate away again, but he grasped her arm.

"Elizabeth," he said, and she closed her eyes against the traitorous little part of her that allowed the delicious shudder that coursed up her spine at the sound of her name on his lips. "I am sorry if I offended you. I don't wish for you to hate me." He scanned her face. "I know that being here upsets you, but I truly hope that we can become friends, despite poor circumstance."

You would be friends with your wife?" Elizabeth asked, slightly incredulous.

William's mind suddenly flooded with images of Drusilla. "I cannot offer you more than friendship," he said quietly as his late wife's sparkling eyes and soft laughter filled his head.

~*~*~*~*~

"You do this often, I see," Daniel chuckled as he entered the parlor, where Elizabeth was once again staring out the window.

"I do wish it were spring, so that I might go riding," Elizabeth mused.

"That is not likely."

Elizabeth turned to face Daniel. "What do you mean?"

"Let us take a walk," Daniel said. "I'd like to tell you a story."

They left the parlor, strolling down the hall in the west wing, where Daniel knew William wouldn't appear. "You have heard that Will is a widower, I assume?"

Elizabeth nodded.

"He and Drusilla fell in love the moment they first laid eyes upon one another. Their courtship was one of the shortest on record - though yours is far shorter - and they were wed when Will was nineteen. I used to tease him about how smitten he was with her." He paused to glance at Elizabeth and make sure she was taking everything in. "They were married for three years when Drusilla decided she wanted to have a picnic. They went riding and were nearly at their favorite picnic spot when Miss Edith - Drusilla's horse - bolted. Will chased after them as fast as Black Lightning would take him, but he was too late. It was nearly dark when I found him, trying desperately to awaken her."

Elizabeth's face had gone pale. "How terrible," she whispered.

"And that, dear sister," Daniel said, "is why my brother will never allow you near the stables."

"Perhaps I will be taking many strolls this spring," the blonde said shakily. "Even if he never loves me, it could not be good for him to lose another wife."

~*~*~*~*~

As he walked by her open door, William peered in to see Elizabeth brushing her hair. Her curls hung loose and shining down her back as she ran the brush through them slowly. "Thirty-seven, thirty-eight..." she counted under her breath.

"May I do that for you?" he asked shyly, his voice slightly hoarse.

Elizabeth set the brush down, turning to look at him. His eyes were red-rimmed, and there were tiny reddened lines marring his face. He'd been crying, she realized. "Do you promise not to rip all my hair out?" she joked, motioning for him to come in.

His face took on a haughty expression. "I'll have you know," he said crisply, "that my mother used to allow me this privelege daily." He strode forward and took the brush from the vanity, motioning for her to sit. When she was comfortably seated, he began to brush her golden locks with utmost care and gentleness.

Her eyes closed as the pleasant tingle of someone else brushing her hair spread through her scalp. "It's been years since someone brushed my hair for me," Elizabeth said as his fingers lifted a few strands to work the brush through them.

"My mother had hair like yours," he said. "Soft and shining. It's quite lovely."

"Perhaps," Elizabeth suggested, "you will allow me an attempt to tame your wild mass of curls when you've finished with my hair."

"Perhaps," he parroted, continuing to brush diligently. He cleared his throat. "Nearly done," he said. The brush passed through her hair a few more times. He stepped back, admiring the silky strands. "There," he murmured.

"Thank you, Lord William," Elizabeth said. She stood. "Shall I try my hand at your hair now?"

He smiled wryly. "I feel a bit silly," he said, "sitting at your vanity while you maneuver through the jungle on my head."

Elizabeth glanced about the room. "It is the only seat available in here, I'm afraid." Her eyes lit on the bed and she turned quickly back to him. "Won't you sit down?"

William did as she asked, and she untied the leather strap that held back his dark mane. She lifted the brush, then brought it back down onto his hair. On the first stroke down, the brush stuck fast in his hair and refused to come loose. Elizabeth laughed nervously.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

Her laughter became genuine. "The brush is stuck," she giggled.

He turned and glowered at her, trying to look intimidating. One look at him with her mother of pearl-handled hairbrush stuck to the side of his head sent her into fits of laughter once more. "I'm sorry," she gasped between snickers. "I've just never seen a hairbrush get stuck before."

"Well, get it out," he snapped irritably.

With much effort and about ten minutes' worth of see-sawing the brush handle back and forth, she was finally able to loosen it enough that she could unravel his curls from around the bristles. "Perhaps your hair is too curly to tame," she said finally. Her eyes, which were green today, were dancing with mirth, and as William tied his hair back, the giggles burst out of her again.

"I'm glad you find my discomfort so amusing," he grumbled sarcastically.

"Someone has to," she replied, placing the brush back onto the vanity. A little snicker burst forth every once in a while, but for the most part she'd calmed her laughter. "Truly, I am sorry, it was just so funny at the time."

"I forgive you," he replied, his smile returning. "You see, it can be much easier for both of us if we are friends."

Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Will you... that is..." she trailed off. "On our wedding night," she began again, "will you be expecting me to - "

"Come to my bed?" he finished.

She swallowed, her eyes wide, and nodded gravely.

"I have no heir," he said simply. "Who will I leave all this to when I die?"

"Daniel?" she suggested nervously. She did not like the way he was looking at her right now. She turned and gazed into her mirror.

William came up behind her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. He spoke to her reflection. "Truly, after the first time it will not be terrible. I have heard that there is pain for a virgin, but I will attempt to ease it as much as possible." He turned to look at her now. "You may come to like it," he said huskily, and her brain registered feebly the moment before his mouth came in contact with her own that there was no way out of the situation.

His kiss was feather-light and over before it had really begun. "Good night, Elizabeth," he murmured, leaving her standing in the middle of her room with her fingertips pressed to her mouth as if to hold the impression of his lips on hers permanently.

It was a long time before she fell asleep that night.

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