Mistress Agnes Page 15

  He said soothingly, 'I think his skull is not broken, it may be cracked but that is not lethal, it just takes a long time to heal. Your fiancée will have a huge swelling where he was hit, that may take weeks to go away, it will darken dramatically then fade through all the colours of the rainbow, that is nothing to worry about. I can see you're very upset over his rantings, he must have been through a lot before you met him, Mrs Beauchamp, it sounds like he was in the army or something like that. But though it must be painful to have him seem afraid of you, it is actually a good sign, he has the energy to resist, he can speak in sentences, and he is not fading away, which is all good. All his memories are mixed up right now, they will probably settle in due time.

  I do worry about that wheeze, are you sure he wasn't hit somewhere else? His lungs could be damaged, or his larynx.'

  She had to tell him.

  'Actually, he used to do that all the time, he said it was a nervous condition. It went away when we got together and talked a lot about his past. He must be very upset to have it come back.'

  'A nervous condition, that is very interesting indeed. Let me think.'

  And the good man did think, chin in his one hand, the other hand on his knee.

  If the situation hadn't been so serious, Agnes would have been diverted.

  Seconds later, he looked at her and said, 'Nothing to worry about. He's upset with the memories he is reliving, once they're settled, it will go away again.

  Better let him rest a lot, for weeks, at least four to six, no reading, no writing, no physical exertions, no mental or emotional strain. I'll be visiting again

  soon. I have good hope all will be well, Mrs Beauchamp, your fiancée seems pretty hardy. And of course, everything I hear and see in the pursuit of my calling is strictly confidential. I wish you a good day, Mrs Beauchamp. If you are worried, please send for me.'

  He bowed, and went away.

  Milly came in for a moment, to say goodbye as well.

  'I'm off for home, Agnes. I'm sorry my choice turned out so badly, though I'm glad your man was with us. I thought he was a mere gentleman, but now I see he is much, much more. I'm looking forward to getting to know him, my cousin says he will most likely make a full recovery.

  I will contact you tomorrow, see how he is doing, and how you are doing.

  Don't worry about our appointments, I will not press you to work when your fiancée is in danger. I'll let myself out, my love, or maybe Patrick here can do the honours? Your master will be fine, my dear man, I told you my cousin is the best.'

  Alone with her beloved, but not as she'd hoped to. He was still wheezing a little, but it was receding somewhat, Agnes stroked his cheeks as she always did, forgetting there had been a time that she couldn't touch him in his sleep for fear of a violent reaction. And so his eyes flew open, he tried to sit up to defend himself from danger, but then he recognized Agnes and let himself be guided back to the bed gently.

  'I don't feel so good, mistress,' he said with a tiny, husky voice. His hand felt his throat once more, a good sign the doctor would say, control over his limbs, but to Agnes it was a sign of heartbreaking humility.

  'Will you leave the collar off tonight?'

  Kissing his face with all the love and heartbreak she felt, she didn't explain, but merely said, 'Yes, Dennis, I will leave the collar off.'

  He managed a smile.

  'Thank you so much, mistress. You're so kind to me. And you called me Dennis, you never used my name before. I love you.'

  And with that he fell into a quiet sleep, his breathing regular and the wheeze diminishing until it stopped altogether. She let him sleep for a few hours, then woke him as the doctor had ordered.

  'Agnes? What happened? I feel awful, my head hurts and I'm dizzy. I want to drink, but I'm afraid I'll throw up if I sit up. There was a fight, wasn't there? Is everyone all right? You're crying, did someone get hurt?'

  Guy came running with a glass of water and a bucket, and he very carefully helped Dennis to sit up. He waited a moment to see whether Dennis would keep from throwing up, then offered him the water and helped him drink it.

  'Mrs Beauchamp has been very worried about you, Dennis. You got hit pretty badly, and you're still not out of danger. I'm going to wake you up again in a few hours, so please don't hurt me in your sleep. Yes? Ready to go back to sleep?'

  Dennis nodded, and Guy helped him back down.

  Looking at Agnes with softness, but without fear or humility, he let himself drift off again slowly, and she stroked him until he slept. When he was breathing regularly once more, Guy said to Agnes, 'Mrs Beauchamp, you get a little sleep yourself, right there beside him. I'm keeping an eye on both of you, and when I get tired, I will wake Patrick. Then when he gets tired, you can take over again. Agreed?'

  'Agreed, my dear friend. I love you Guy, thank you so much.'

  And Agnes snuggled against the warm body of her beloved, and promptly fell asleep.

  The next day, Dennis felt awful, his body hurt everywhere, and past and present still didn't seem separated by a clear boundary. He'd had a nightmare again, this time of gagging on an iron collar, seeing his beloved standing over him with a whip, smiling cruelly. He woke with a cry, wheezing, his first reaction to check his throat, the concerned face close to his own frightening him in his befuddled state.

  Before he remembered who he was, and where he was, his reaction had her in tears, not daring to touch him in her shame and anxiety for him. As soon as he could speak again, he whispered her name, and she took him in her arms and covered him in tender kisses, still crying.

  'I hurt, Agnes, not just my head, all over.'

  'But you saved all of us, Dennis, those thugs would have killed us or raped us for sure.'

  He still didn't remember what had happened, but it didn't matter, he'd ask her as soon as his mind settled a bit more. For now, he was still dizzy, nauseous and upset with the dreams he had suffered, they were so vivid, and Agnes had been so unfeeling, so cruel to him.

  'What is wrong, Dennis? You look almost afraid of me again, you know I love you more than anything, don't you? I'll never hurt you again, I'm so sorry I ever did.'

  They had never talked about that, it was just too painful, how she had left him by himself day in, day out, in the dark, chained to the wall, in constant pain to catch his breath, with nothing to do but lie on a bed and wait for the minutes to crawl by until she visited again, not to talk or get to know him better, but to please him sexually, or to have him please her, roughly, dominantly.

  And the last weeks of his captivity, when she had ignored his plea to be set free, arguing she needed him all to herself, not listening to his repeated assurance that he would be her slave no matter what.

  She had taken a whip to him instead, hoping to break him to her will, but instead she had broken him altogether and he had just given up, gasping for breath, waiting to die.

  He had forgiven her, and he hadn't felt the need to talk to her about it, Guy and Patrick had coaxed him to talk to them, to get it off his chest, as Agnes had coaxed the horrid memories of his past out of him, ridding him of his nightmares. But this was not a normal situation, the pain at the back of his head made him realize he had sustained a significant hit, shaking his brain, causing him to remember the past as vividly as if it was now.

  'I know, love,' he managed to say. 'But just now, I didn't. I saw you standing over me with a whip, ready to make an end to me. My mind's playing games with me, mixing up memories. I can't stop it, just hold me and tell me you love me, and help me hope it will pass.'

  There was nothing for her to say, it was still so infinitely painful to her, and she needed her strength to meet her editor, and her readers, all those perfectly groomed ladies with genteel husbands and profitable marriages.

  Dennis knew the memories of her husband still pained her whenever she was in town, her feelings about him so ambiguous, she had loved him so much, but he had owned her so totally. Fear of such slavish devotion was the reason s
he had wanted to enslave someone in the first place, she wanted the passion and the heat of a strong man, but she didn't want to be in someone's power ever again.

  He hoped that by now she knew there were passionate men who didn't feel the need to rule their partner, who would just accept what was offered and leave her mind and body her own. He wanted to support her in these difficult weeks, but now she would have to face all those occasions by herself once more, he would take weeks to recover, and what if past and present never separated again? He'd be a mess, and a danger to himself, betraying his desertion to anyone within hearing distance whenever he were to find himself

  on the battlefield again in some delusion, fighting for his life.

  'I will be here for you, Dennis. Whatever happens, I will be yours forever.

  Now, do you need to go to the privy, or do you want to take a bath?'

  He just couldn't get up, as soon as he tried to get further than sitting up, everything started to spin and he started heaving, though there was nothing left in his stomach to throw up.

  'Will you please send for Patrick to help me use the bedpan and to clean me up? I cannot stand the thought of you seeing me like this, reduced to a physical wreck once more. It will bring back memories as well, I don't want you to witness that and feel even worse. Please?'

  'Letting Patrick clean you will bring back more memories than letting me do it, my love. I never did that for you, it'll be a totally new experience, and I want so much to be with you, can we at least try?'

  He couldn't argue with that, so he nodded his agreement.

  Agnes knew how to help an invalid, she'd served Frederick's every need in his last months of life, and she skilfully assisted her beloved, first helping him to use the bedpan, then giving him a thorough but painless cleaning.

  When she was done, he was nearly ready to sleep again, his stomach could not yet handle solid food so he let her feed him some broth. That brought back memories, but he was still very much awake and they did not get hold of him. What she did next just stunned him, she stroked his testicles very gently until his ardour shot up, then took his throbbing, rising penis in her mouth and licked it slowly, checking his face for signs of nausea or pain.

  He couldn't move, for fear of spilling his guts all over her, but he dared touch her back, careful not to sit up or reach beyond his strength. Despite his pain and the dizziness it felt wonderful, and the feel of her skin and hair, and her gentle touch on his most intimate parts brought back good memories, memories of lying in the haystack together, probing each other's bodies in the warm sunlight. And of that time he chased her up the hill and took her against a tree, Dick stepping in to make a fabulous threesome. The ride his big friend gave her, it was just incredible.

  'Remember how you rode Dick that day on the hill?'

  She did, her mouth sucked his dick with sudden ardour, and she let go for a second to say, 'That was fabulous. I'd love to do that again, but I guess Maria Woods will be the happy woman next time he gets ridden.'

  She didn't seem too unhappy about it, though, and she resumed her ministrations very slowly, but no less tantalizingly.

  Dennis' ardour rose until he was in a state of total ecstasy, and when he felt his climax nearing fast he stroked her head once, their sign that his sticky mess was on its way. Looking up at him she continued her glorious action with her hand, and soon he shuddered in release, a wave of nausea bothering his stomach for a mere second, after which he lay still once more, savouring the moment.

  She rinsed her hand at the washstand, then came back to kiss him with ardour, he could feel the heat she had worked up, but there was nothing he could do to release her, it would be some time before he could ride her again, or taste her again.

  'You can always go to Patrick and Guy, can't you? Guy actually likes making love to girls as well as boys, Patrick is the one mostly stuck on men.'

  Agnes smiled and replied soothingly, 'I can stand a bit of heat, Dennis, I don't need instant gratification anymore. I'll wait until you're back to yourself, or I'll give myself release, and you may watch.

  That afternoon Agnes had her first private meeting planned and Dennis urged her to attend. It was only an hour after all, and he slept most of the time anyway, watched over by Patrick, as Guy accompanied his mistress. Those first days were spent sleeping off his concussion, the present slowly starting to dominate the past again, and the nightmares receding.

  But after five days he felt much better, and he became restless and bored, and yes, he was reminded of his captivity ever more, though there was plenty of light in this room. He could walk around and explore the house, but Agnes was out very often and he started to feel neglected, brooding on the past, imagining what his love was doing right now, jealous of her freedom once again.

  It was not exactly fair of him, and a tiny part of his mind kept telling him that. He had told her she could go, told her he was mostly asleep, and when she returned he didn't ask about what she had been doing, he merely accepted her loving and went back to sleep.

  The fact that he was much more awake now was something Agnes couldn't know. But somehow this was a very sensitive issue to him, and he had promised to never hold the past against Agnes, so when she finally came home he kept his mouth firmly shut. She was so glad to see him fully awake, and lucid, and she hugged him carefully and very tightly. It didn't hurt physically, he merely thought she might have come back a little earlier, or taken him along.

  'What is the matter Dennis? You don't seem happy at all.'

  Since he didn't speak up but stayed grumpy, Agnes tried her very best to cheer him up, and she stroked and fondled him eagerly.

  But somehow that was the wrong thing to do, Dennis' memories had been stirred up forcibly by the concussion, he remembered his days of confinement so vividly, with Agnes, then his mistress, only spending time on loving him, and not at all on talking to him. Had she told him what her day had been like, everything would have been fine, but now he brushed her hands off his body and told her crudely to leave him alone.

  He had never spoken to her like that, not ever.

  Agnes was devastated, she wanted to plead him to tell her what was wrong, to kiss her and tell her he didn't mean it, but he had turned his back on her.

  The scars on his back rubbed his rejection in deeper, and she silently retreated from her own room in total defeat. How could this happen? This morning he had kissed her goodbye and told her he'd eagerly await her return, and now he had told her to leave him alone. What had she done? What if this wasn't her fault, but a change in personality caused by the concussion?

  Walking across the hall, her eyes misting with tears, she realized she had nowhere to go, Dennis was in her room, and she could run into one of the female staff any moment now. Her first instinct was to hide, and she quickly knocked on Guy's door, her boys had separate bedrooms here but she guessed they'd be in Guy's, which was a bit larger and had a slightly larger bed. They would hide her and tell her what to do, she had vowed to herself that whatever happened, she would stay true to Dennis, she would care for him even if he changed. If that was what this was, she'd have to see it through or break her own promise to herself. She loved him so much, and this was the first time he had been less than friendly, he was still suffering from concussion...

  The door opened, and Guy took her in his arms tenderly.

  'What happened ma'am, why are you crying? And why are you not with Dennis?'

  'He told me to leave him alone, and turned his back on me. I couldn't bear to look at those scars so I fled. I think he hates me, the knock on his head changed him.'

  Guy now lifted her and sat her on his lap, their bed a reasonable size in a room that was rather small compared to their room at the manor house, and

  apparently they had been sitting together, reading.

  'Dennis doesn't hate you, mistress, really he doesn't. Something must be up.

  Let me go find out.'

  Patrick left, as Guy kissed her with some heat, Denni
s was right, he did like to make love to girls, he was excited. She couldn't even fault him for doing what might be seen as taking advantage of her weakness, somehow it felt right.

  Agnes kissed him back with ardour, and Guy stroked her hair and nuzzled her cleavage.

  'I'm sorry, ma'am,' he said, coming to his senses. 'I've missed you, I lost it for a moment. I hope you're not angry with me. You didn't come here for pleasure, you came here for comfort. I'm sure Patrick will find out what is bothering Dennis, they've always been very close, just try to relax and I'll merely hold you for a few moments. And he did, but Agnes was a bit sorry he stopped his attentions.

  Meanwhile, Patrick knew Dennis so well he thought he knew what his problem was, but he didn't want to jump to conclusions so he entered the room quietly and sat on the bed. Dennis was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, clearly upset.

  As Guy had a thing for the mistress, Patrick had it for Dennis, they had often kissed, but Dennis was totally stuck on the mistress, he had no space in his heart for another. It didn't matter, Patrick had a good life, better with Dennis in it, and he had been very glad to see his friend happy. He was certain this lapse had to do with the past, with being left all by himself, in a bed.

  'You want to talk about it?'

  Within seconds, Dennis was in his arms, and it felt so good that Patrick really had to control himself not to try taking it further. But Dennis was not for him, and anyway, this was about Dennis, not about Patrick himself.

  'I snapped at her, told her to leave me alone. I was angry for having been left by myself all day, it reminded me of how it used to be, but I promised not to reproach her for that, so I couldn't tell. She'd have been devastated.'

  'She was devastated now, Dennis. You cannot help it, it's the concussion, it brought back so much pain, you've talked so much in your sleep, had such nightmares. It's not rubbing it in to want to talk about what happened, you both need that, no matter how painful it is. She thinks you hate her. You rejected her, and then she saw the scars, she still cannot look at them without feeling extreme guilt and shame. It has power over her, and ever since you