William Rothschild (soldat) wrote in thisdarknight, @ 2016-07-04 20:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | emmeline rothschild, william rothschild |
toe to toe, back to back, let's go, my love
Who: Cora Scott & William Rothschild.
What: Cora and Will go dancing, and reveal their true feelings for one another.
Where: New York.
When: About ~150 years ago.
Warnings: None.
Progress: Gdoc, complete.
"Oh, Mr. Fairchild, you're incorrigible." Cora laughed, putting a hand to the gentlemen's forearm before retrieving her touch. She glanced over at William from the group she was currently flitting amongst; he was still seated alone at the table they'd been assigned to for the veteran's charity. He hadn't wanted to come to the event at all, but she had convinced him otherwise. It would be good to get out, maybe make some friends. The dinner and dancing had been what intrigued her, not to mention that it had reminded her of the days when she'd been the toast of polite society.
William had declined over and over, but she'd worked him, even going so far as to describe the dress she'd wear. They'd make a beautiful pair, him in his dashing uniform and her in one of her mother's old dresses that she'd tailored for the event. It was a dark blue, wrapping around her neck and covering her arms; her hair was spun up into a tight curl. William was in his dress blues, but once they were seated had declined every offer to get up again. She knew that his leg was possibly bothering him, but that didn't mean he couldn't have a good time. After impatiently trying to convince him to get up, she'd gone off to talk to those who had also graced the charity, but her worried gaze had never left William for long.
She detached herself from the crowd she had been talking to and made her way back over to the table. A band in the corner was striking up a new song, and couples were joining on the dance floor. Sitting down, Cora put a hand on William's arm.
"You can't surely think to sit here the whole evening, Will," she said quietly, so as to not be overheard by those nearby.
“I can if I please,” William replied, his voice short and slightly whiny. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself; he was too proud for that and knew how the others would react. There were plenty of men here with missing limbs and the majority had the good sense to stay seated. But there was one man with a peg for a leg who kept hopping about, attempting to dance, and William saw how the other veterans looked at him. He heard their judgemental mutterings. He wasn’t about to be the next one on display for their entertainment.
“We’ve had supper,” William attempted to reason with Cora. He looked at her, his eyes holding her gaze. It was only recently that they began courting each other with fervor and firm intention, but just looking at her unashamedly was still new enough to give him a jolt of pleasure. “Can’t we leave for the evening now? It was a very nice meal but… to dance…”
"Please, Will? That was the whole reason we came," she pleaded, her hands reaching forward to grasp his. "It will be good exercise, and I promise it will be fun." Cora saw him glancing at the other veterans, already surmising what the issue was. "You shouldn't care so much what the others think. You won't be dancing with them, you'll be dancing with me."
William’s frown deepened. He allowed her to take his hand, to hold it, but he didn’t show how much her touch pleased him. Her thumbs massaged the back of his hand, sending warmth through his veins. He knew that, in the end, Cora would get her way; that had quickly been established at the beginning of their courtship. She was more liberated than other women William had known; he found her bravery, stubbornness, and singular mind to be extremely attractive, even if society at large disapproved. “In the back,” he muttered. “Away from prying eyes. But I’ll only promise a dance. No more.”
His obstinate demeanor did nothing to douse the large grin that unfolded over her face. Without glancing to see who might be watching, she lifted his hand to her mouth and brushed his knuckles against her lips; then, without pause, she rose to her feet to hold him to his promise. Her grip never left his, encouraging him to stand.
"Come on then, grumpy," she teased. Her touch remained firm, and she lingered by his chair, obviously ready to help him rise.
He carefully got into a standing position. As the doctors had promised, the injury had gotten better, but not by much. He was still sluggish, slow, and in a great deal of pain. The difference was that standing up and sitting down didn’t take quite as long as it used to; he could walk a little further for a little longer, and the bleeding had stopped. Still, he had accepted he would have the cane with him for the remainder of his life.
He gripped it now with one hand, Cora’s patient grasp in the other. With some effort, he was finally standing. “In the back,” he repeated, a whisper only meant for her. She nodded in reply, and wrapped her arm in his to make it seem as though he were guiding her instead of the opposite. They wended their way through tables and chairs, Cora making pleasant remarks to those they passed. The handsome pair made their way to the back of the ballroom the event was being held in, away from prying eyes and the dance floor. A doorway with swinging doors led to a back hall, providing extra exits in the case of an emergency, but Cora paused before they had gotten that far.
"Is here all right?" Her other hand lighted on his arm, her arm curled in his as their forms were close enough to feel the warmth of each other's bodies.
William glanced around him with slow, serious eyes. There were dancing couples before them, blocking the judgemental gaze of the other veterans who remained seated. William’s shoulders slumped slightly, a tension being released, and he gave a nod before looking down at Cora. “Nothing fancy,” he said under his breath, sternly. Cora could get him to bend in certain areas, but not all, and his stern voice dictated as much. He allowed her to convince him that the benefit was worth going to, he allowed her to get him onto his feet, but he would not be hopping about in a dancer’s line. Something slow, something he couldn’t lose his balance over, something that wouldn’t cause him embarrassment but would still leave him close enough to her that he could smell the floral oils she wore behind her ears.
"No, we'll do something simple," she agreed, moving around to his front. She moved the arm that hers had been wound about to the small of her back, her other hand taking his holding the cane. The stick floated in the air beside them as she stepped into his space, her skirts brushing his shoes and pant legs. The smile on her face hovered before him. "We never danced much when I was a child; our celebrations were prayer and rest after a long day of hard work. I don't need anything fancy."
His gaze had drifted back to the crowd when Cora had moved into position for their dance, but her words brought his attention back to her. He frowned, sympathetic. “We had many dances in my town,” he admitted, still keeping his voice low. He allowed her to lead, although it should have been the other way around, and gripped her hand tightly to keep his balance. “All the pretty girls with ribbons in their hair… it was the closest I was able to get to a woman. An utter tease. Then we would have church the next day and have to repent.” He smirked at her. “It was all line dances then, though. Never anything quite so close as this.”
"Mm, I like this," she replied, as scandalous as the admission was. "I'm surprised you let all those pretty girls slip through your fingers. Or that none of them laid claim to you." She kept their pace careful; stepping forward, back, turning carefully in the process, stepping forward, back, making a small circular square near the back wall.
“Well…” William replied, looking to the heavens for a moment and sighing. He smiled and looked back at Cora. “I was courting a girl before the war but it fizzled out. It was pressed upon us, by our fathers, but neither of us were quite interested. It wasn’t a loss for either of us; I believe she’s happily married to a dairy farmer now.”
He quieted for a moment, considering what his life would have been like if he hadn’t gone to war. He had to admit, it likely wouldn’t have been much different from the way it was now. He was a lawyer as he was beforehand. His father likely still would have died. Perhaps he would have been married already, settled down, perhaps with children and without a bum leg, but… it wouldn’t have been much different, no. “I’m glad none of the young ladies laid claim to me,” he admitted, softly.
She had cursorily nodded at his explanation, not really having expecting such an answer. Whether it was jealousy or ensuring his safety to cause her to tighten her grip a little on her leading hand was unclear, but she did it all the same. The happiness on her face dimmed a little as she felt pressured to reveal a little of her own past.
"I was married before," she said quietly. "It was a business arrangement, though I was...I was young enough to believe I loved him. It was...not a happy marriage." She swallowed, carefully watching his face as she gave the few details that she did. Cora knew the information would have come out at some point, and she fervently hoped that it wouldn't dash any feelings Will might have been harboring toward her.
“Oh,” William replied at first, a little stunned. She was so young, it was surprising that she would have been married already and was on her own now. “Did… did he die in the war? What… what happened…” William was caught enough off guard that he stammered, something he rarely did. He was good with words and generally chose them wisely. But this tidbit of news was surprising and he felt hot with the possibility of embarrassment. Was this wrong? How long had she not been married?
“I’m sorry it was a business arrangement. That’s unfortunate,” he whispered quickly, trying to cover his surprise, but he meant the words he had said. It wasn’t unusual but he rarely heard of such marriages resulting in happy ones.
"Unfortunate indeed," she agreed. She hated that her admission had placed them in this awkwardness, but there was nothing for it now. "And, no, it ended in divorce. I'm not sure what became of him, but I'm glad to be rid of him. Otherwise I might not have met you." She twisted the conversation back around to a hopefully happier topic. At least he could not say that she was not truthful.
He smiled all the same. “Yes, I agree. If you are remotely happier now than before, then it was worth ending the marriage.” He gave her hand a squeeze, completely fine with the conversation drifting away from the earlier topic. He could see her discomfort and wondered how the man had treated her, but that was a story for another day. “I’m glad you’re rid of him, too.” He leaned forward, his forehead barely touching hers, and his smile strengthened. “Have I told you that you look lovely this evening? And while I hate dancing, I am enjoying this.”
Her smile returned, though at a half measure from before. Meeting him halfway, she stepped closer into his form, her face brushing his. "I told you it would be fun," she teased him. Their steps had slowed to where they were all but carefully spinning near the back of the ballroom. Cora pushed into Will, gently leaning on him as her eyes closed. His cologne and the smell of him underneath surrounded her; she didn't care who saw. "You're better than you give yourself credit for."
William snorted. “Limp and all?” He kept his face lowered, they were so close they could kiss, but that wouldn’t be proper in front of all of these people. Even now they were so close to one another it was drawing attention. Luckily, the other couples were well into their cups, so decorum was slowly being lost all over. “I couldn’t dance without your help,” William pointed out.
"I don't mind that." His beard scratched her face, but she didn't move away. "I've had so many people telling me what to do all my life, I don't mind being the one in charge for once." She stopped, pulling her face back for a moment. "I mean...I don't mind helping you."
“You have a bit of bite in you, hmm?” William commented, his face serious, but a moment later the corner of his mouth curled into a hint of a smile. Another mirrored his on her face as she understood his joke. “I’m glad you’re fine helping me. I'm just not one to often admit I need help. But this injury, at the very least, has proven I can’t do everything on my own.” He stopped moving, both feet firmly on the ground, and lifted his hand that had been clasped to Cora’s waist. Gently, he touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Thank you, though.”
She leaned into his caress. "You're more than welcome. You get me out of that dingy shop, even if it's only for a little while. I can't even describe how much that means to me, or how much I look forward to your visits." Her grip on his other hand tightened, then pulled his arm backward around her middle. She stepped into him once more, throwing propriety to the wind.
He grinned, “Expect many more visits and many more outings. Until you grow sick of me.” He had nearly forgotten about his wounded leg, his cane, his limp. She was capable of that, the magic of her, to cause him to forget what plagued him.
“Perhaps,” William said, his voice coming out in a sigh as he exhaled. He didn’t move away from Cora; instead he seemed to be brought closer and closer still. Magnetic. His hand gripped at her small waist and he breathed in her perfume. “Perhaps we can step into the hall, where we’ll have a little more privacy?”
Cora found she had no reply, instead only nodding in short, desirous jerks. She pulled away incrementally, as though to do so pained her, and carefully began to lead him to the double doors that, while only a few feet away, seemed leagues distant. Her arm wrapped around his tightly, and her free hand pushed the door open wide enough for him to step through first, ever mindful of his condition. Then the door behind them was closed, and Cora pulled him back to her. Even with his injury, he was young and firm and so different from the man she had married.
Her mouth found his, one hand to his shoulder, the length of her body pressed to his form. William was a greedy receiver as he clutched at her and returned her hungry kiss. He stepped backward, toward the wall, and pressed his hip against it for stability. His cane clattered to the floor, making a sharp sound in the otherwise empty hall, but he didn’t pause as he gripped her small hips, his thumbs making circles along her corseted ribs.
This beautiful, magical, wisp of a girl showing interest in him. In all his broken glory. For a moment while they were in the room, he had a tremor of fear. She had been married before, divorced in a world where divorce was not common, she had experience that likely amounted to so much more than William had with random girls and letter writers while he was with his regiment. But her experience was showing in her kiss and now there wasn’t any worry to be found because William enjoyed this, his arousal pressing against his thigh evidence enough.
She felt it, and for a moment paused; one hand was clutching at his dress uniform, wrinkling the carefully ironed cloth. She could feel hard muscle under it, a slim form that she was unused to but wanted to know more of. Forcing her fingers to release it, she slid a hand up, over his neck and into his hair. Cora brought her mouth back to his, this time softer but just as demanding.
William groaned, a soft sound that came from the back of his throat, and he melted into her kiss as his hands grasped at the folds of her skirt and pulled her against him. Since they had picnicked together, William had looked at Cora with possibility. She presented a life of normalcy, but William -- in his self hatred and shame -- had always assumed that she didn't have as much interest in him as he with her. But with this display, now he was beginning to look at their relationship with clearer eyes.
Cora sighed into his mouth, feeling comfortable and, dare she say it, on the verge of happiness. If he had wanted to, she would have followed him straight home, and the thought made her pull back.
"I'm sorry, Will," she said, her body still pressed to his. She could feel his member quite clearly, and knew she had led him too far astray. "I... I want to do this right. We shouldn't, not until...after we're married." Her words were far more timid than how she'd acted before, and though she still remained pressed against him, her body was tension-filled and waiting for the inevitable blowback from her denial.
"Oh," Will sighed, surprised by her sudden change of mind. He didn’t move away from her -- he was pinned against the wall -- but he also didn’t want to move from her. He looked at the ceiling and took a deep breath, trying to focus and get more blood to his brain. After a moment, his heart wasn’t racing as much as before. He nodded.
“All right,” he said, looking down at Cora and smiling. Gently, he touched her cheek, which Cora leaned into. “I understand, that’s perfectly fine. It’s... I’m quite willing to wait until our marital bed.” He tilted his head, gazing into her eyes with his smile growing by the moment. “Does that work?”
She met his gaze with her own, a small curve of her lips meeting his. Her head bobbed. "Yes," she replied. She stayed against him, taking pleasure in that small comfort. Her head was spinning, anyway, and it felt good to have the stability he offered. "I just hope you won't change your mind."
He shook his head, lowering his lips to kiss the top of her head, just below her parted hair. “I won’t,” he promised. “It will be hard, particularly when you keep taking me to these functions and wearing these dresses.” He grinned wolfishly. “But I understand, don’t worry yourself.” His hands found their way to her arms and ran down them until he was able to grasp her small hands in his own. “Has this benefit been all you expected?”
Cora gave a small laugh, shaking her head. "No, not really. But that's not a bad thing." She gripped his hands in return, meeting his gaze with equal measure. Then worry moved over her face. "Let me take you back to the table so you can sit down. I'm sorry to have you on your feet for so long, Will."
“Oh,” William laughed, looking down at himself. “Please, don’t be sorry. I’ve the wall to lean on and that’s helped.” He flashed a grin at her, a bit of color showing on the apples of his cheeks--the only part of his cheeks visible from his beard. “Could you perhaps retrieve my cane for me though? It’s fallen and I’m not quite sure I’ll have the balance to pick it back up.” Not without embarrassing himself, at least.
"Of course." She took a step away from him, and dipped down in an almost curtsey-like manner, her arm scooping to retrieve his cane. Holding it before him, she offered her other arm for stability so that he could move away from the wall.
He took the cane and stepped away from the wall, then went to reach for Cora’s offered arm when he paused. “Oh,” he whispered, “Wait one moment.” Lifting his hand, he gently touched her hair, brushing back wisps of hair that had come undone from their moment beforehand. The quick brush up ended with his fingertips gently touching her cheek. “We’ll let the world see our clothes wrinkled and our hair a mess after we’re married,” he said seriously, but a moment later the corner of his mouth curled into a small smile.
Cora returned his expression with a wide one of her own. Wrapping her arm in his once more, she led him back through the double doors and into the society that would make outcasts of them both. She was glad to have found someone to share that exile with, and for the first time in a long time found herself looking forward to the future.