The Treatment of the Lower Orders

The Treatment of the Lower Orders 9

The hamlet of Knighton was small. Only six cottages and Knighton Hall. The modest but solid Hall was the home of the once sheriff of Nottingham, Edward of Knighton. It was not impressive, not imposing, but the barley and flax fields would yield generously. The low hills covered in great oaks and elms, held calm.

On such a pleasantly warm spring day, you could believe that God created this corner of England just for this moment. The air was sweet with oncoming summer. Leaves, sprouting, pale infants on their branches. Apples trees offered a generous crop when their time came.

This was peace.

This was heaven.

Elias plied her needle with care. The cloth was soft but the weave was too open to be embroidered properly. It had come from the basket of scraps and was all she had to make this small gift for the Lady Marian.

Yes, this was heaven, and she knew it because she understood there was a price to be paid for heaven. The price for her was an empty corner of her heart, whose tiny yawning ache woke her in the night and took her at moments like these.

But how could she long for his nearness? Her finger touched a bruise fading on her wrist, and she felt his hand on her. Elias shook herself free of the thoughts and stitched once more. A trail of ivy twined a wild rose, imprisoning it. This was how she saw the lady Marian, imprisoned as much as she. Only Marian had the glimmer, the illusion of freedom. Elias had no such luxury.

"You work, even here?"

A voice, low and familiar whispered in her ear. She turned expecting it to be her mind playing its tricks.

"My lo-" She tried to stand, but became caught in her kirtle and stumbled back, sending her needlework tumbling into the grass.

Swallowing uncomfortably, he looked at her. She had almost said 'my love' and she was smiling.

"I must speak with you before I see the Lady Marian," Suddenly he felt stupid, but not angry about it.

"I have not betrayed you sir, if that is what you ask?" Her heart sank. His only concern was that the lady, his 'love', thought well of him.

"Good, good." He looked at her in the sunlight, her hair loose; cheeks flushed pink, well apart from the marks he had left upon her. He found he wanted her, there in the grass, in the sunshine.

No dark corners, no locked doors. No urgent, angry, fucking, no punishment for crimes unspecified. But a languorous, lazy revelling in the liquid honey of her.

She was on the ground in front of him, she could easily take him in her mouth, assuage his need.

But it was not what he wanted. He wanted her to smile again.

Sitting there, she knew he was thinking about having her. She could see his manhood swelling. Was he wondering if he had time? Might the lady catch them? She thought she knew these things and pushed them away.

"Do you wish anything of me sir?" she asked politely, even though the meaning was anything but polite.

His eyes burned her and she revelled in it. She had power over him but she had no idea what to do with it.

"I would..." He looked heavenward and threw his arms wide."No!" It was almost a shout. "No, I am grateful for your silence in this. Our arrangement…" He paused, and shook his head. "need not trouble her."

Arrangement! It stung, but it was true. Elias smiled at him, and he groaned.

"Don't do that!"

She stood, turned away and gathered her work, searching for her fallen threads in the springtime grass.