Chapter 6
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The front door opened before he’d even fully stopped the car. Holding up the fabric, it wasn’t the dress he had bought for her, but none the less she did her best to keep it from touching the dirt.
“Good afternoon, Viscountess.” He gave with a smile, making his way around the rumbling engine to get the door for her.
“Mmm?”
“Good afternoon.” She looked devoid of emotion as she processed the greeting, and nodded in reply.
“Afternoon, Duke.” A somber nod as she sat down, the door carefully closed beside her. Declan watched the woman as he made his way to the driver’s side again, and her eyes remained at the fore, unwavering, not to him, and not to the house. He’d just hunched slightly to get the driver-side door open when he spotted the figure in the window, the mother, who seemed to be staring gravely at her daughter until she caught his gaze in her direction. A pleasant smile, a wave, which he returned in kind before getting behind the wheel.
“Something seems off today.” The vehicle rumbled about for the main road. “Has there been a death in the family?” A glance to her left him no less clueless.
“...No.”
“That was a rather questionable delay.”
“There’s been no death in the family.” He considered her for a moment as they headed for town, and in the silence her gaze remained steadily ahead, only the background noise of the engine to accompany them.
“Well then, where to today?” A tone of cheerfulness and optimism, “there’s a play on this evening, and an opera tonight. Fancy either?” Another glance, she merely shrugged. “You sure? You could throw your drink at some poor chap and declare him a coward. A quick duel later and I’ll be out of your hair.”
Her eyes squinted as her mind stumbled on this, finally looking over to him with an odd expression. He brought a couple fingers forth, a thumb stuck up, and dropped the hammer on his pistol with a whispered “pow” which was so drowned out by the rumbling vehicle that it may as well have merely been mouthed.
“You’re daft.” She stated matter-of-factly, giving a couple nods as though she’d just provided the correct answer to a math problem. “Absolutely daft.”
It was his turn to shrug his shoulders as he watched the road, giving a dismissive look of his face either way as though to say ‘you caught me; fair cop.’
“Being normal is so... boring. Much better to be a bit looney from time to time.”
“’From time to time’ is one thing, making it a state of being is quite another.” Her attention returned forward, shifting in her seat before settling again. “How you do expect to ‘fuck’ at this rate with your behavior?”
“My, my. Language.” Her arms crossed. “Besides, what do you take me for, some harlot? Not before marriage.” She scoffed, shaking her head.
“The only positive outcome to eloping with you would be the fact that I’d never, after that, see you again.”
“What? Becoming a mother wouldn’t be a positive outcome?”
“Hmph, not for you.”
“Why’s that?”
“Get me pregnant and you’re stuck with me for life, and I’m stuck with you for life. Not sure if you’d survive that.”
“Nor am I, sounds like an interesting challenge however.” The vehicle rumbled and shook and lumbered along, a slight trail of smoke following them from the exhaust. Her fingers tapped against her slim bicep, a foot tapped against the floor, and he smirkingly continued the casual drive to the city.
“What is your problem?!” She finally bellowed, and a nearby farmer filling a pig trough jumped. “This is all just one big game to you, isn’t it? You hold all the bloody cards, and it bloody well gets you off to fan yourself with them.” She watched him as he moved in his seat, sitting a bit straighter, a grin spreading on his face. “Look at you! You’re like a big child, poking and prodding and pestering until you finally get a rise from someone and then you have a great big laugh! It’s detestable! Why would any woman want such a creature for a husband? Why would any want such a pathetic specimen to sire their children? They’d come out as daft as you!”
“One can only hope.” He gave cheerfully, flashing a smile to her before returning his attention to the road. “Oh dear, another ant.”
“No- EEE!” She flailed and grasped to keep herself straight as he gave a deep, bellowing laugh. “You absolute bastard, you’ll have me killed someday!”
“Hey Emma.” The vehicle straightened, her beckoned her attention as he glanced over to her a few times.
“What?” She asked with no small degree of outrage.
“Nice smile.” Her hair slightly unkempt from the movement, an undignified posture in which she held the dash and the seat in a slouched manner, yet he spotted her sparkling smile that had developed in the process.
“You really are a bastard.” He chuckled in reply.
“A rich bastard.” It was her turn to laugh then.
“That too.”
“A handsome bastard as well.”
“You’re pushing it.”
“A bastard with a great, big-”
“Careful...”
“-love of ants.”
“AHH!”
“Hahaha!” Once again, he’d timed it just right, sending out his arm to catch her as she fell towards him, completely unprepared. Once again, he kissed her forehead. “That’s a girl.” To his surprise, he had not been met with violence that time, save for a rather gentle swat to his chest. He stroked her shoulder with his hand, the other on the wheel. Her smile maintained for a time, though only for a time.
“It’s not fair...” she muttered to herself, resting her head against him, her soft voice mostly getting lost in the noise of the engine.
“Hmm?”
“It isn’t fair.”
“What isn’t?” The buildings were coming to view, not much longer to go. Awaiting an answer, he felt her head move, looking ahead, and felt it shake before she pushed herself gently up from him, resuming her position at the far side of the car. “What isn’t?” He asked again, a bit more pressing albeit in a harmless way. She shook her head again, that stony look having returned. He let the matter lie for the time being, but none the less took it as a victory that he’d managed to lighten her mood at least for a time. Things seemed quite dark indeed when he’d arrived to her home.
They drove without so much as an utterance, he turned at a corner and they made their way along the side of a park, a very gentle swerve made to avoid a pleasant little mound of horse manure. The vehicle was brought to a stop, the engine shut off, and so with the sound of the engine replaced by the muffled noises of the city, he turned slightly in his seat and looked to her. Still, void of emotion, she merely sat there staring forth. Not at the brick structures to their left, nor the park to their right, nor at himself. The spark and the fire in her that so drew him, it seemed as though it had been doused to merely an ember.
The Duke reached over, took her hand, and held it. A few seconds later she looked down at this gesture of his, her limp hand held in his firm one, and her gaze followed the arm to his face. She seemed so sad.
“What’s happened?” Still she merely stared, and her empty features seemed to him to say that somehow he should already know. “She really is pressing you to make this work, hmm?” The hand twitched, tightening on him slightly. “You want to remain single, however.” Her lips twitched, pursed, her eyes squeezing as though some twinge of pain had just shot through her. “Do you?”
He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, their eyes locked.
“Come, let’s go to the park, some peace and fresh air could do us both good, I dare say.” The hand was lifted to his face, a kiss given, before returning it to her intact.
“So, is it just me that causes you such vexation, or is it men in general?” They’d reached the bench in quiet, and sat upon its wooden surface. Her hands rest placidly on her lap, peering faintly downwards at the stone path that cut through the greenery. A young boy ran about with a yapping dog, a couple with greying hair strolled at a pleasantly slow pace, and a young family with an infant, a small child, and another that was only slightly bigger all sat on a sheet with a basket of tasty bits to nibble on.
The Viscountess’ eyes calmly twitched about before her, not looking at anything in particular. He knew she was thinking and so, leaning back on the bench, politely awaited her to find proper articulation.
“It’s...” she started, but with her head cocked slightly to the side as she vaguely looked forth, her eyes narrowing in search of the proper words, he leaned ahead and put his elbows on his knees as he watched her.
“It all just seems... so... unfair.” Shaking her head lightly she looked over to him. He steadily held her gaze with his own.
“How so?”
“Well, what do you mean ‘how so’? Isn’t it obvious?”
“It might be.” He gave with a light shrug. “For now, explain it to me as though I were an imbecile.”
“Heh, well...” a grin came to her face, her features lighting up slightly at the thoughts coming to mind. He, too, was met with a grin at seeing the pleasant change in her expressions.
“Thought you might like that.”
“I do. Well... what I mean, is...” she regarded him again briefly before bringing her eyes ahead again.
“It’s unfair that I have so much wealth and you don’t? Not the best stance to take, considering how poor King George’s cousin faired recently.” Her eyes shot to him rather suddenly at that.
“I’m not a bloody Socialist.” Spoken forthrightly and with dignity, even though indignation would have been an acceptable way to reply.
“Well thank God for that.” From his forward-leaning posture he relaxed back once more.
“I mean, it’s unfair in a more broad sense. Unfair for women.”
“Mmh, go on.”
“What do you mean ‘go on’, do you doubt it?”
“I didn’t say that. I want to hear your point of view. Emma, I find you to be fascinatingly passionate about the matter, in truth I find it strangely... I should choose the term, em-” he glanced to her a moment, “-carefully.” She nodded, a studious eyebrow raised at him. “Attractive. Yes, I’ll go with that one.”
“I see. Well, thank y-” she began to provide politely, nodding.
“I was going to go with ‘erotic’.” The nod turned into a double-take, a smile threatening to spread on her lips in spite of her will to suppress it, meanwhile her eyes attempted to portray anger or outrage. It resulted in quite an odd overall expression, which brought a chuckle from him.
“Pig.” She swatted his chest with the back of her hand, though really not much actual force had been put into it. It’s as though it were merely to hold up appearances than actually airing grievances.
“Oink oink.” She snorted, failing to kill the laugh before it fully came out. “Anyhow, injustice between the genders, go on.” Her shoulders sagged as she sighed.
“Why is it that I must wed? For that matter, why must marriages be as they are? The man gets to go out and work and make money, or in your case you just get to enjoy being filthy rich, but the typical woman must reserve herself to slaving away at home. Birth the babies, raise them, feed them, clothe them, change diapers, do the housework...”
“Well, I mean, we're of noble birth, that's not really things we have to do unless by choice or forced to do because of economic difficulties.”
“Which, tragically, is my present circumstances as you already know.”
“Mmh.” He gave a brief nod and a gunt that he understood and agreed with her statement. “So I suppose your upset is primarily focused on the commoner women?”
“Well, things aren't exactly easy for noble women either!”
“How so?”
“I can't believe you're so blind!”
“Please, calm down. I just want to hear it in your own words; tell me your point of view.”
“Don't tell me to calm down...” she shot him a cold look, and he rose his hands in surrender, eyebrows raising, lips pressing together. His right hand was brought down to his lips, fingertips turning on them as though turning a key, and made a 'throwing' gesture. “Alright then. Well we still only play second fiddle to the men. They're the heads of the household, they command the respect-” the Duke opened his mouth to say something but shut it again to let her continue, “-not to mention is the 'rule of thumb' not law? Look at your thumb! Likely quite average and yet imagine thrashing a woman with an iron rod that was that thick! Murder!”
A slight smirk on his mouth, an eyebrow up, as while he faced her directly his eyes lazily swept to the left, and then to the right, without moving his head. She then self-consciously found herself looking about. While the children at the picnic enjoyed their play, their parents gave shifty looks at the two on the bench. The older woman enjoying her walk with whom was likely her husband, had just been looking back to him after having been looking back at them, shaking her head before regarding her attention forth once again.
Emma's head lowered, she visibly swallowed, her sight coming down to the stone path, eyes flicking about nervously.
“I highly doubt that's actual law, but if it is...” he nodded to himself, and she watched this, staring daggers at him, awaiting some crass joke or remark. “... then I'd be at your side to petition its removal.” Her gaze widened initially, but then narrowed apprehensively, questioningly.
“Really?...” he gave a serious nod.
“That, or we make it go both ways, but well, men generally have bigger thumbs so we still win in that outcome.” Her features drooped humourlessly at this. “Though, what if we also made it law for married couples to practice fencing? Whenever there would be a domestic dispute it would be quite a show. En garde!” Flicking an arm up behind him, the other gabbed a closed fist in her direction, essentially gesturing at her thumb-first as though he were threatening the young spinster with a rapier.
Her eyes remained narrow, yet the edges of her eyes creased with the raising of the flesh on her cheek bones, lips pressing together in a vain attempt at suppressing the grin, her hair waving lightly as she gave her head a shake.
“You truly are daft.” She let the smile loose once she'd said it, smiling at him earnestly.
“Like a fox!” He gave bravely, keeping himself armed with his 'sword'. “Fwip, fwip, fwip!” Quite animated and cheerful, he did his best to keep himself reasonably quiet so as to not bother the rest of the park but none the less made some quick 'swipes' with the make-believe rapier in the direction of her chest. “Aha! Whom is the daft one now, knave?! You really lack such shame as to allow your breasts to hang freely?” He lowered his tone measurably upon this crass joke, and was rewarded with a laugh from the Viscountess, mockingly bringing her arms up to 'hide' her fully clothes bosom.
“Ah!” She gasped in pretend offence, “I'll have you know that they do not hang... they're quite perky.”
“Mmm, I'm sure they are... you're at the mercy of a dangerous and armed man, do you submit?” Declan raised his head, bringing the fist closer, directed in the rough direction of her throat. Her head, on the otherhand, lowered, her smile fading slightly though there was still a glimmer of amusement in her.
“You should know by now; I'm not one to submit.”
His hands came to rest at his lap, the show evidently over in terms of his swashbuckling. He smiled at her softly and earnestly.
“Strangely enough, in spite of my admiration of submissiveness in women... I think it may be my most favourite attribute of yours.” Her features flickered slightly, some redness coming to her cheeks, it was as though she had a difficult time either believing it, or figuring out what to make of it. “Perhaps after a few years it would become tiresome, what do you think?”
“I...” she shook her head lightly, staring intently into his eyes, her blushing face unable to hide her little smile.