Dignity and Depravity

Chapter VII

Satisfied with her correspondence, Amelia declined her customary morning routine of practicing the piano forte, in favour of descending the dining room for breakfast. John was already seated, fastidiously studying his morning paper and reviewing his own post.  Amelia was diverted at the striking dissimilarity between her husband and dearest father. Preferring the solitude of his library, Amelia's father gave wide berth to the bustle of bodies that occupied the breakfast table at Cauldwell Lodge. A baker's dozen of boisterous and loquacious sons and daughters did little to settle his nerves. Such a vociferous milieu was the antithesis of the tranquil morning that must have passed at Eagleton Manor. John, being the only offspring and sole successor to his family's estate, would have little reason for sequestration away from his mother and father. Furthermore, John's recent years as unattached gentleman had done little to divert these customs.

Ensconcing herself at the table, Amelia applied to the servant for a generous helping of rolls and preserves. Her appetite what whetted from her secondary dalliance with John, and by rejoicing in having first choice of items laid out before her. She was gratified to behold a large silver pot laid out on the table. Pouring a cup, Amelia's suppositions were well founded, as it poured a cascade of hot chocolate in to her cup. This simple, yet delicious liquid treasure was a nosh that Amelia cherished. Her mother considered it a frivolity, too exorbitant and luxurious to be shared amongst the robust Moore household on a customary basis. Nonetheless, it was a commonplace delicacy at Eagleton. Often, as children, John would confiscate a small cup of chocolate and set it aside for Amelia, to be served as a refreshment when she came to visit.  Amelia cherished these recollections as the first inclinations of John's intentions towards her. As they grew older, he never faltered in giving her this gift, endearing him within her heart forever.

"Mr. Dyer, how fortunate that you have saved me a cup of chocolate," Amelia said tenderly, glancing at him across the table.

"I would not wish it any other way, Mrs. Dyer," John replied with a smile.  "I expect you slept well and your health has ameliorated after a good rest."

"Oh yes, kind sir, I certainly found a cure for what ailed me in the bedroom." Amelia caught John's gaze and held it, impregnating the silence with memories of satisfied desire. She felt a deep-seated contentment within her soul in openly deliberating about their marital discourses, and further reassurance in the pleasant, lingering quivers she felt in the area between her legs. Amelia's heart brimmed over envisioning the familiarity she had gained this past night. She aspired for constancy in this newfound amity, in both carnal knowledge and in affectation. If childhood warmth and fondness could blossom to endearment, and later to marriage commitment, intimacy therefore could bloom in to pure passionate ardor.

Presently, Amelia desired naught but to find quietude in the regimen of rising each day with the one she loved. "What news on the struggles with France, husband?"

"My dearest, you are one of the most accomplished and intelligent woman I have ever met.  Your interest our country is patriotic, yet I would not see you disturb yourself with state affairs this day. So much is be digest as you familiarize yourself in managing this household, as it is not nearly as robust as it once was and is in dire need of a woman's touch."

"Mr. Dyer, I should think that a woman's touch would be the least of your concerns this morning," Amelia replied cheekily.  Interesting how he deflects my interest in politics so easily, she thought.  Educated by a private governess, John had reached a high level of education under feminine tutelage. It is so disagreeable to believe a woman cannot possess equal or greater inetelligence than a man, Amelia thought. Partaking in private erudite exchanges with your spouse should not have the an unseemly appearance, lest all genteel women waste away discontent. Vexations, however, must be put aside, lest it reflect poorly at this early juncture in our marriage. Let him be the face of our family, but let myself be the limbs that make it move.