admin
02 Mayıs 2024, 00:51
http://kizsalsorunlar.net/paylasim/sex_gif_2/54/female_ejaculation_ZD0Vdln5j0q3VGWw3Fucug.gif
-XI-
Barely a sennight after Valentine's departure to Scotland and bedlam, Godfrey Godwin sat at his desk with the day's post and a half-empty bottle of whisky. It had been much the same scene since his daughter was taken from his home; him buried in papers and books and drinking, the door locked against his wife. Having experienced Violet's attitude since the day in the garden, he shuddered. Though she'd complied with his demands of six or seven years ago regarding Valentine's marriageability, it was no secret between the two that Violet wanted her daughter gone, and her overjoyed frolicking at Godfrey's decision to commit the girl reminded him so every time he had the misfortune to wander across his spouse in the manor. That ill luck had been increasing in frequency as of late, and Godfrey could see the tell-tale gleam of manic energy in her expression. Hence the lock on the door, and the subtle emptying of the house of all liquor, cordials, wine and champagne, save for his own supply in his study.
The hypocrisy was not lost on him, but he used drink to dull himself, whereas Violet used it to embolden.
The entire mess was his fault. Godfrey poured himself more whisky.
If only he'd taken Valentine to Edith after she was born. If only he took a stand against Violet's abuse sooner. If only he weren't such a fool for hoping his marriage would be a good one. If only he'd confronted Violet at the hospital when he heard her cursing his child...
A gulp of the amber liquid went down easier than the previous draughts; his taste was numb to its fire and his head buzzed with the effect.
Heartbroken, and cowardly. That was what he was. Even after enduring Violet's rages, her accusations, her alcohol-induced confrontations, he had hoped that he could win her over given time. That she would eventually see his kindness, his dedication and unrelenting support- but the day of Valentine's birth had shattered his illusion and exposed him for a fool, and it never did get better. She never loved him, and never would, and the worst fate she could wish upon her daughter was what she had with him- a loveless marriage. Godfrey had not voiced his disappointment or pain upon that unpleasant discovery, not to Violet or Valentine or even Edith, who sympathised the most with his entire situation. Instead, his despondency caused his withdrawal from the entire family and he faded into the background of his own life, nursing his work to avoid thinking of his unhappiness.
Now look what I have, Godfrey thought miserably. Stepping in when Valentine was thirteen was much too little much too late. Yet- Oh, what that girl had made of herself, what armour she'd constructed just to do battle with her unloving mother! All to be exposed as some kind of twisted pervert and wrenched away forever. It was his own fault he'd had to commit her. The least he could do was to find an exclusive and effective facility to care for her!
The only connection Godfrey retained to his lost child was her name. It took Edith's patient manipulation to win Violet over, but it was worth it in the end. If Godfrey had anything to be thankful for, it was that his wife hated her sister even the slightest bit less than himself.
It was then the man became aware he'd flicked the letters and notes in his hands mindlessly several times. Trying to focus, he read his address and family name from an envelope and glanced at the postmarks. The knowledge of its origin cleared a bit of the fuzz off his brain, and Godfrey flipped the sealed missive to reveal its sender and an unbroken wax blot on the back. Doctor August Blackmore, Mistress Halifax's Home for Stricken Ladies, near Nairn via Inverness, Scotland. In haste the patriarchal Godwin broke the stamped seal and took out the letter. Was she alright? Was there hope? Would he ever get a chance to tell her everything he'd kept imprisoned inside his heart for twenty years?
To Lord and Lady Godwin,
My name is Dr August Blackmore, Head Physician and Psychologist at the renowned Mistress Halifax's. My heartfelt greetings and sympathy to your family at this distressing time. First, allow me to inform you that your daughter has arrived in our facility safe and well. She will be treated with the utmost respect and care while here, and I shall say I have hopes that her stay will not be terribly extended. Miss Godwin is in good hands.
The chief reason I am writing is to give a cursory explanation of your daughter's condition after my initial meeting with her. While I will say her case is severe, I do not believe she is beyond a cure. I have diagnosed your daughter with female hysteria, a condition causing all manner of ill effects such as fainting or emotional outbursts, among other nervous behaviours. Your daughter's lasciviousness and aggression are among the worst expressions of the disease I have ever seen. I believe she may also be suffering from a dual-natured personality, capable of shifting from gentility to hostility and back without control. Rest assured that I am doing everything I can to Kartal Öğrenci Escort (https://kartal.t2bro.net) bring her peace of mind and healing. As your daughter's case is so drastic, I have taken her on as a personal patient, and she will be cared for entirely by myself.
I invite you to write with any questions or concerns directly to myself, or my proprietress Madam Lilian Halifax, as often as you see fit. Letters posted to Miss Godwin will be given to her and every opportunity will be presented her to maintain correspondence. I would also like to extend the invitation to visit our facility whenever you wish, to assure you that we have the best of everything available for your daughter's health. I will also be happy to send news and information at regular intervals if this is amenable.
Please respond at your leisure.
Sincerely,
Doctor August Blackmore
11 May 1987
Godfrey finished reading, and let go a heavy breath. The doctor sounded the consummate professional, and it seemed Valentine would be safe, getting exactly what she most needed. (Little did the anxious father fathom that as he sat, worrying for the girl, she was already enjoying the doctor's medicine, the maw in her soul lessened by vigourous sex and the respect of an intelligent man.) Feeling better, the father pulled paper and pen from his disarray to begin scrawling a response. Of course he wanted to know everything about his daughter's recovery. Even if he had waited too long to tell Valentine how much he loved her and that he was proud of all she'd made of herself, perhaps he could tell the doctor, and have it translated to her care! For the first time in days Godfrey put away the bottle of spirit and let himself sober. He took the time to organise his desk before he put down a single word. There would be no rushing this letter. It was the single most important damned letter he would ever write.
He set a nib to the paper cautiously, fearing that the right words would not come. First, the greeting, as it was easiest.
To the Esteemed Doctor Blackmore:
Framing his thoughts, Godfrey wondered- even with all the clothing and items he insisted Violet pack for Valentine- if his child would be in need of anything else while she was gone. Whether underthings, new books and inks for her writing, or equipment to continue her favourite pursuits, surely she must have a little money tucked away for expenses. A generous cheque should suffice to meet her needs. When he returned from the bank the next afternoon he would have it ready and post his reply immediately.
He hesitated only about a minute more before the rough draft began to flow.
My name is Lord Godfrey Godwin, Valentine's father. Thank you sir, for writing. Since my daughter's departure, I have been immensely worried for her well-being, and your letter has brought me great relief. If you speak of this to her, she may find it strange that I have responded- I am afraid that, as far as fathers go, I have been a terrible one. The history between myself and my wife is painful to say the least; I'm certain Valentine will tell you much more. It is in part because of that relationship that I never fostered one with Valentine- yet I must express how it distressed me to have her committed. I would never have thought madness was intruding upon her mentality! She is such a sharp, intelligent, talented and passionate young lady. Still, word from her last several suitors has made me very fearful. Her aggressiveness is worrying for a marriageable woman, and I can only blame myself, for she seems to have inherited it from her volatile mother. Please sir, I implore you to help my Valentine, any way that you can. I have been deprived of my daughter's company as she has been deprived of my love and support, and both of these tragedies are the fault of no one but myself.
There is far too much pain over Valentine's twenty years to relate in a single letter, but I freely let it be known to you, Dr Blackmore, that I have been absent from her life. I am a shameful coward, and I have never told her the truth of how much I love her, which is my deepest shame. If you would impart such revelations onto her I would be very grateful. At this point in her life, I do not know if she would even recognise my voice if I spoke. I don't even know if she would read a letter I penned her, after my years of inaction upon her cause. But I swear to you, Doctor, that I was able to wrest control of her fate from her mother some years ago, and have spent my time caring for her from the shadows of our home. It is wretched, the emptiness between us, and I am not sure I am even worthy of her forgiveness. But I love her. By the name she wears that I gave her, there is nothing I would not do for her wellbeing.
Please do write, weekly or every fortnight, with news of my beloved daughter. I would like to know absolutely everything I can about her condition and progress as time passes. Enclosed with this letter, also find a cheque for anything she might need. I will anxiously await your reply.
Deepest Kartal Çıtır Escort (https://kartal.t2bro.net) Regards,
Lord Godfrey Godwin
18 May 1987
Despite a few crossed-out words and at least one careless misspelling, the father was happy with his work at the end, and produced a clean copy to be sent along by the next evening. No doubt the doctor would have a great many questions to follow the frank admissions of this letter. Perhaps, as well, Valentine herself would write, or give word that she would like him to, if she could find it in her mercy to kindle what should have been a harmonious father-daughter bond from birth.
As Godfrey finished the clean copy of his letter and set it carefully aside, he felt hope rise tentatively in his chest. He folded the rough draft of his missive and tucked it into his vest pocket. Tomorrow, when he returned home, he would have a cheque and be ready for the post.
As her husband scratched his woes into ink, Violet wandered aimlessly through her vast, empty house and marvelled at the silence. None of her things had been taken and hidden from her, and no one had cast facetious displays of affection her way in passing, for days. It had taken twenty long years but her hated daughter was gone. Her husband too had all but vanished. They'd barely spoken a word to each other since the girl was taken off by the men. The only company Violet even enjoyed these days was her society friends and the guests she often had for tea or dinner parties. During the busy season, she made many calls and attended a great number of functions when they arose, but she was starting to comprehend that she still felt alone. No one truly breached the most intimate spheres of Lady Godwin's heart, neither carnal nor familial.
When had silence and solitude become so suffocating?
It was only the prior evening that Violet discovered her household was suddenly teetotal. Godfrey's work, she was sure. A few nasty words to herself and a subtle threat to the kitchen staff had procured a bottle of champagne quick enough, and further secret instructions to be obeyed on pain of death would see that there would be no lack in the future. Bolstered by the drink, the woman wandered, exploring her home as if she'd never set foot there before, and she viewed it with the perspective of a person newly freed from all unwanted social ties.
Triumph did not prove as glorious as she'd hoped.
Now that there was nothing to distract her, no battle between her and her husband or daughter, Violet was forced to come to terms with the fact that she herself was nothing. Godfrey had his work, and Valentine had spent her hours in study, or writing, or fencing. The two Godwin sons were off in their own lives, married with children and working their own positions in banking or properties, as Godfrey did. Violet's energies were always devoted to appearing to have the perfect life. Yet everything about it was just an empty shell. From her looks to her carefully orchestrated attendances at the opera or the balls of the season, she'd spent so much time on aesthetics and reputation there was nothing left underneath. How could she have gotten so far and finally achieved victory only to find it was nothing but a mirror she'd been looking at all along, which she'd fractured beyond repair?
It was drink that blocked such thoughts from her mind and made the weary empty hours pass. It was also drink that made her forget exactly why she'd built herself up so well outwardly, while her real self cowered within the hollows of her façade.
Violet wound up at Godfrey's study door. She waited.
When he emerged from his locked room, he wasn't entirely surprised to see her there, nor was he completely shocked that she seemed to be swaying. Godfrey looked at her coolly.
"What is it, Violet?" As always, the man was careful to keep his tone neutral when they did speak. He betrayed his own emotions as little as possible in their conversations, brief as they were.
"It's dead quiet..." She blurted, shifting from foot to foot. It was so much easier to embrace the oblivion of alcohol when she felt like this; why did he always have to be so withdrawn?
"I'm told that happens when children leave the home," he responded blankly. Godfrey sought a passage toward his bed. Violet had chosen well; she stood blocking his path and moved with him to ensure he'd have to brush up against her to pass. Though he feigned indifference, the man felt both his impatience and anxiety rise. She only behaved like this when she wanted his attentions. Even after he pleaded with her so long ago to trust him and let go of her worries, this was all she could do? Get drunk and substitute impulse for trust? This was not how Godfrey wanted to conduct himself with his wife. After twenty-five years. "Violet, please. It's gone late and I intend to go to bed."
"Fine then," she returned, trying to be coy. "Whose bed?" Her husband paused, allowing his eyes to close. He took a deep breath. In a smooth motion he brushed past her, ruffling her skirts Kartal Elit Escort (https://kartal.t2bro.net) as he did so.
"Our own beds, Violet. I thought I made it clear to you that if you wished me to join you, you would be sober and communicate your needs to me honestly." She reeled back as if slapped.
"You know very well why I cannot!" she spat, her face reddening even further than the glow of the booze. The declaration stopped him dead. He turned a blistering stare back upon his wife.
"No," he said with an edge of frustration, "no I do not." Godfrey stalked away from her and sought his bedroom. When he reached it the first thing he did was lock the door tightly behind him. Even, apparently, emptying the house of spirits had not stopped her finding them. But what was he to expect, when the servants they kept were constantly receiving conflicting orders, Violet belittling and threatening them to obey hers?
Still standing in the hall before her husband's study, aghast, Violet was enraged, insulted; even somewhat disappointed. She was so used to having her way and lately that had not been happening at all. Even though Valentine was gone, it was not on her terms. It was on his. Violet harrumphed and sneered at the door to the office her husband kept. When the man was not at work, he was locked up in there for hours to avoid her. What could possibly be so important or deviating to keep him from performing his duties as husband, duties her mother insisted she was obliged to entertain? Vengeful, she opened the door. It was dark inside, but she could see a candle silhouetted upon the desk, backlit by the nearly-full moon's light. Violet crept in and shut the door, then carefully strode to the candle. There were matches waiting near it, and she grabbed one. With a deft flick she struck the incendiary material and it flared into vibrant orange-and-yellow life. The candle was soon burning, and Violet began her perusal.
The desk was cleared of all work save two pieces of paper. One letter in Godfrey's hand, which she passed over for the second. It bore the seal and name of Mistress Halifax's, the asylum that now kept her daughter thousands of kilometres away from her birthplace. Violet took it up and began to read.
When she was finished, she scoffed and returned the paper exactly where it had been placed, and since the second paper was right next to it, she surmised it must be her husband's response, and so, read it.
When she was done absorbing all the emotions and secrets Godfrey was willing to share with a stranger but not his wife, the wronged (she felt) woman was quaking. She put the letter back, blew out the candle, and took the spent match with her. Clearly, Godfrey didn't want her. He only cared for their barbaric daughter. Violet huffed angrily as she left the room. She vowed that neither the doctor nor Valentine would ever see this letter. It was just a matter of biding the time until Godfrey was ready to post it.
***</p>
A fortnight passed swiftly at the hospital. Nearly seventy gowns began to be snipped, altered and sewn back expertly. Many of the older women appreciated the thought but not Valentine's style of dress, and so passed on her generosity. Madam Halifax ordered a good set of theatrical foils for Valentine's production, and the mischief-maker herself began the arduous copying of twenty-four scripts by hand for the play auditions, a tiring effort that took her quite some time.
Though far more settled from Valentine's stir, the women of Mistress Halifax's were livelier since her escapade, and the theatrically inclined among them were waiting with varying degrees of patience to join the play. It was already decided whom Valentine was going to be, and at Lilian's insistence, August had to participate in the actual production. That meant only one thing.
"Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour draws on apace-" the pair circled each other in the asylum's operating theatre, being the only space yet large enough to house a duel. Arms outstretched, foil in hand, August lunged with a thrust and was parried smoothly. "Four happy days bring in another moon, but oh, methinks... How slow this old moon wanes." Another flash, the exchange of metal, and the fight became a sensuous dance. August thrust again, Valentine caught and pressed it aside. She thrust to his deflection, and the flurry increased. "She lingers my desires, like to a step-dame or a dowager long withering out a young man's revenue." Now Valentine took the offensive, pressing her lover back with sword and word.
"Four days will quickly steep themselves in night. Four nights will quickly dream away the time!" She pursued him with zeal, steps sure and rapid. August was dazzled by the flurry of her blows, and actually struggled to parry them as they came. She did not hold back in private; that was for certain. "And then, the moon, like to a silver bow new-bent in heaven, shall behold the night of our... solemnities." Her sword's blunted tip danced and rent the air with its neat sound, her body charged by the thrill of exercise and unconventional foreplay. August pulled himself together to answer her press of quick attacks and attempted a turnabout. Their foils skittered over each other and their feet shuffled back-and-forth, to-and-fro. Valentine took control of the exchange in one instant, August snatched it the next.
-XI-
Barely a sennight after Valentine's departure to Scotland and bedlam, Godfrey Godwin sat at his desk with the day's post and a half-empty bottle of whisky. It had been much the same scene since his daughter was taken from his home; him buried in papers and books and drinking, the door locked against his wife. Having experienced Violet's attitude since the day in the garden, he shuddered. Though she'd complied with his demands of six or seven years ago regarding Valentine's marriageability, it was no secret between the two that Violet wanted her daughter gone, and her overjoyed frolicking at Godfrey's decision to commit the girl reminded him so every time he had the misfortune to wander across his spouse in the manor. That ill luck had been increasing in frequency as of late, and Godfrey could see the tell-tale gleam of manic energy in her expression. Hence the lock on the door, and the subtle emptying of the house of all liquor, cordials, wine and champagne, save for his own supply in his study.
The hypocrisy was not lost on him, but he used drink to dull himself, whereas Violet used it to embolden.
The entire mess was his fault. Godfrey poured himself more whisky.
If only he'd taken Valentine to Edith after she was born. If only he took a stand against Violet's abuse sooner. If only he weren't such a fool for hoping his marriage would be a good one. If only he'd confronted Violet at the hospital when he heard her cursing his child...
A gulp of the amber liquid went down easier than the previous draughts; his taste was numb to its fire and his head buzzed with the effect.
Heartbroken, and cowardly. That was what he was. Even after enduring Violet's rages, her accusations, her alcohol-induced confrontations, he had hoped that he could win her over given time. That she would eventually see his kindness, his dedication and unrelenting support- but the day of Valentine's birth had shattered his illusion and exposed him for a fool, and it never did get better. She never loved him, and never would, and the worst fate she could wish upon her daughter was what she had with him- a loveless marriage. Godfrey had not voiced his disappointment or pain upon that unpleasant discovery, not to Violet or Valentine or even Edith, who sympathised the most with his entire situation. Instead, his despondency caused his withdrawal from the entire family and he faded into the background of his own life, nursing his work to avoid thinking of his unhappiness.
Now look what I have, Godfrey thought miserably. Stepping in when Valentine was thirteen was much too little much too late. Yet- Oh, what that girl had made of herself, what armour she'd constructed just to do battle with her unloving mother! All to be exposed as some kind of twisted pervert and wrenched away forever. It was his own fault he'd had to commit her. The least he could do was to find an exclusive and effective facility to care for her!
The only connection Godfrey retained to his lost child was her name. It took Edith's patient manipulation to win Violet over, but it was worth it in the end. If Godfrey had anything to be thankful for, it was that his wife hated her sister even the slightest bit less than himself.
It was then the man became aware he'd flicked the letters and notes in his hands mindlessly several times. Trying to focus, he read his address and family name from an envelope and glanced at the postmarks. The knowledge of its origin cleared a bit of the fuzz off his brain, and Godfrey flipped the sealed missive to reveal its sender and an unbroken wax blot on the back. Doctor August Blackmore, Mistress Halifax's Home for Stricken Ladies, near Nairn via Inverness, Scotland. In haste the patriarchal Godwin broke the stamped seal and took out the letter. Was she alright? Was there hope? Would he ever get a chance to tell her everything he'd kept imprisoned inside his heart for twenty years?
To Lord and Lady Godwin,
My name is Dr August Blackmore, Head Physician and Psychologist at the renowned Mistress Halifax's. My heartfelt greetings and sympathy to your family at this distressing time. First, allow me to inform you that your daughter has arrived in our facility safe and well. She will be treated with the utmost respect and care while here, and I shall say I have hopes that her stay will not be terribly extended. Miss Godwin is in good hands.
The chief reason I am writing is to give a cursory explanation of your daughter's condition after my initial meeting with her. While I will say her case is severe, I do not believe she is beyond a cure. I have diagnosed your daughter with female hysteria, a condition causing all manner of ill effects such as fainting or emotional outbursts, among other nervous behaviours. Your daughter's lasciviousness and aggression are among the worst expressions of the disease I have ever seen. I believe she may also be suffering from a dual-natured personality, capable of shifting from gentility to hostility and back without control. Rest assured that I am doing everything I can to Kartal Öğrenci Escort (https://kartal.t2bro.net) bring her peace of mind and healing. As your daughter's case is so drastic, I have taken her on as a personal patient, and she will be cared for entirely by myself.
I invite you to write with any questions or concerns directly to myself, or my proprietress Madam Lilian Halifax, as often as you see fit. Letters posted to Miss Godwin will be given to her and every opportunity will be presented her to maintain correspondence. I would also like to extend the invitation to visit our facility whenever you wish, to assure you that we have the best of everything available for your daughter's health. I will also be happy to send news and information at regular intervals if this is amenable.
Please respond at your leisure.
Sincerely,
Doctor August Blackmore
11 May 1987
Godfrey finished reading, and let go a heavy breath. The doctor sounded the consummate professional, and it seemed Valentine would be safe, getting exactly what she most needed. (Little did the anxious father fathom that as he sat, worrying for the girl, she was already enjoying the doctor's medicine, the maw in her soul lessened by vigourous sex and the respect of an intelligent man.) Feeling better, the father pulled paper and pen from his disarray to begin scrawling a response. Of course he wanted to know everything about his daughter's recovery. Even if he had waited too long to tell Valentine how much he loved her and that he was proud of all she'd made of herself, perhaps he could tell the doctor, and have it translated to her care! For the first time in days Godfrey put away the bottle of spirit and let himself sober. He took the time to organise his desk before he put down a single word. There would be no rushing this letter. It was the single most important damned letter he would ever write.
He set a nib to the paper cautiously, fearing that the right words would not come. First, the greeting, as it was easiest.
To the Esteemed Doctor Blackmore:
Framing his thoughts, Godfrey wondered- even with all the clothing and items he insisted Violet pack for Valentine- if his child would be in need of anything else while she was gone. Whether underthings, new books and inks for her writing, or equipment to continue her favourite pursuits, surely she must have a little money tucked away for expenses. A generous cheque should suffice to meet her needs. When he returned from the bank the next afternoon he would have it ready and post his reply immediately.
He hesitated only about a minute more before the rough draft began to flow.
My name is Lord Godfrey Godwin, Valentine's father. Thank you sir, for writing. Since my daughter's departure, I have been immensely worried for her well-being, and your letter has brought me great relief. If you speak of this to her, she may find it strange that I have responded- I am afraid that, as far as fathers go, I have been a terrible one. The history between myself and my wife is painful to say the least; I'm certain Valentine will tell you much more. It is in part because of that relationship that I never fostered one with Valentine- yet I must express how it distressed me to have her committed. I would never have thought madness was intruding upon her mentality! She is such a sharp, intelligent, talented and passionate young lady. Still, word from her last several suitors has made me very fearful. Her aggressiveness is worrying for a marriageable woman, and I can only blame myself, for she seems to have inherited it from her volatile mother. Please sir, I implore you to help my Valentine, any way that you can. I have been deprived of my daughter's company as she has been deprived of my love and support, and both of these tragedies are the fault of no one but myself.
There is far too much pain over Valentine's twenty years to relate in a single letter, but I freely let it be known to you, Dr Blackmore, that I have been absent from her life. I am a shameful coward, and I have never told her the truth of how much I love her, which is my deepest shame. If you would impart such revelations onto her I would be very grateful. At this point in her life, I do not know if she would even recognise my voice if I spoke. I don't even know if she would read a letter I penned her, after my years of inaction upon her cause. But I swear to you, Doctor, that I was able to wrest control of her fate from her mother some years ago, and have spent my time caring for her from the shadows of our home. It is wretched, the emptiness between us, and I am not sure I am even worthy of her forgiveness. But I love her. By the name she wears that I gave her, there is nothing I would not do for her wellbeing.
Please do write, weekly or every fortnight, with news of my beloved daughter. I would like to know absolutely everything I can about her condition and progress as time passes. Enclosed with this letter, also find a cheque for anything she might need. I will anxiously await your reply.
Deepest Kartal Çıtır Escort (https://kartal.t2bro.net) Regards,
Lord Godfrey Godwin
18 May 1987
Despite a few crossed-out words and at least one careless misspelling, the father was happy with his work at the end, and produced a clean copy to be sent along by the next evening. No doubt the doctor would have a great many questions to follow the frank admissions of this letter. Perhaps, as well, Valentine herself would write, or give word that she would like him to, if she could find it in her mercy to kindle what should have been a harmonious father-daughter bond from birth.
As Godfrey finished the clean copy of his letter and set it carefully aside, he felt hope rise tentatively in his chest. He folded the rough draft of his missive and tucked it into his vest pocket. Tomorrow, when he returned home, he would have a cheque and be ready for the post.
As her husband scratched his woes into ink, Violet wandered aimlessly through her vast, empty house and marvelled at the silence. None of her things had been taken and hidden from her, and no one had cast facetious displays of affection her way in passing, for days. It had taken twenty long years but her hated daughter was gone. Her husband too had all but vanished. They'd barely spoken a word to each other since the girl was taken off by the men. The only company Violet even enjoyed these days was her society friends and the guests she often had for tea or dinner parties. During the busy season, she made many calls and attended a great number of functions when they arose, but she was starting to comprehend that she still felt alone. No one truly breached the most intimate spheres of Lady Godwin's heart, neither carnal nor familial.
When had silence and solitude become so suffocating?
It was only the prior evening that Violet discovered her household was suddenly teetotal. Godfrey's work, she was sure. A few nasty words to herself and a subtle threat to the kitchen staff had procured a bottle of champagne quick enough, and further secret instructions to be obeyed on pain of death would see that there would be no lack in the future. Bolstered by the drink, the woman wandered, exploring her home as if she'd never set foot there before, and she viewed it with the perspective of a person newly freed from all unwanted social ties.
Triumph did not prove as glorious as she'd hoped.
Now that there was nothing to distract her, no battle between her and her husband or daughter, Violet was forced to come to terms with the fact that she herself was nothing. Godfrey had his work, and Valentine had spent her hours in study, or writing, or fencing. The two Godwin sons were off in their own lives, married with children and working their own positions in banking or properties, as Godfrey did. Violet's energies were always devoted to appearing to have the perfect life. Yet everything about it was just an empty shell. From her looks to her carefully orchestrated attendances at the opera or the balls of the season, she'd spent so much time on aesthetics and reputation there was nothing left underneath. How could she have gotten so far and finally achieved victory only to find it was nothing but a mirror she'd been looking at all along, which she'd fractured beyond repair?
It was drink that blocked such thoughts from her mind and made the weary empty hours pass. It was also drink that made her forget exactly why she'd built herself up so well outwardly, while her real self cowered within the hollows of her façade.
Violet wound up at Godfrey's study door. She waited.
When he emerged from his locked room, he wasn't entirely surprised to see her there, nor was he completely shocked that she seemed to be swaying. Godfrey looked at her coolly.
"What is it, Violet?" As always, the man was careful to keep his tone neutral when they did speak. He betrayed his own emotions as little as possible in their conversations, brief as they were.
"It's dead quiet..." She blurted, shifting from foot to foot. It was so much easier to embrace the oblivion of alcohol when she felt like this; why did he always have to be so withdrawn?
"I'm told that happens when children leave the home," he responded blankly. Godfrey sought a passage toward his bed. Violet had chosen well; she stood blocking his path and moved with him to ensure he'd have to brush up against her to pass. Though he feigned indifference, the man felt both his impatience and anxiety rise. She only behaved like this when she wanted his attentions. Even after he pleaded with her so long ago to trust him and let go of her worries, this was all she could do? Get drunk and substitute impulse for trust? This was not how Godfrey wanted to conduct himself with his wife. After twenty-five years. "Violet, please. It's gone late and I intend to go to bed."
"Fine then," she returned, trying to be coy. "Whose bed?" Her husband paused, allowing his eyes to close. He took a deep breath. In a smooth motion he brushed past her, ruffling her skirts Kartal Elit Escort (https://kartal.t2bro.net) as he did so.
"Our own beds, Violet. I thought I made it clear to you that if you wished me to join you, you would be sober and communicate your needs to me honestly." She reeled back as if slapped.
"You know very well why I cannot!" she spat, her face reddening even further than the glow of the booze. The declaration stopped him dead. He turned a blistering stare back upon his wife.
"No," he said with an edge of frustration, "no I do not." Godfrey stalked away from her and sought his bedroom. When he reached it the first thing he did was lock the door tightly behind him. Even, apparently, emptying the house of spirits had not stopped her finding them. But what was he to expect, when the servants they kept were constantly receiving conflicting orders, Violet belittling and threatening them to obey hers?
Still standing in the hall before her husband's study, aghast, Violet was enraged, insulted; even somewhat disappointed. She was so used to having her way and lately that had not been happening at all. Even though Valentine was gone, it was not on her terms. It was on his. Violet harrumphed and sneered at the door to the office her husband kept. When the man was not at work, he was locked up in there for hours to avoid her. What could possibly be so important or deviating to keep him from performing his duties as husband, duties her mother insisted she was obliged to entertain? Vengeful, she opened the door. It was dark inside, but she could see a candle silhouetted upon the desk, backlit by the nearly-full moon's light. Violet crept in and shut the door, then carefully strode to the candle. There were matches waiting near it, and she grabbed one. With a deft flick she struck the incendiary material and it flared into vibrant orange-and-yellow life. The candle was soon burning, and Violet began her perusal.
The desk was cleared of all work save two pieces of paper. One letter in Godfrey's hand, which she passed over for the second. It bore the seal and name of Mistress Halifax's, the asylum that now kept her daughter thousands of kilometres away from her birthplace. Violet took it up and began to read.
When she was finished, she scoffed and returned the paper exactly where it had been placed, and since the second paper was right next to it, she surmised it must be her husband's response, and so, read it.
When she was done absorbing all the emotions and secrets Godfrey was willing to share with a stranger but not his wife, the wronged (she felt) woman was quaking. She put the letter back, blew out the candle, and took the spent match with her. Clearly, Godfrey didn't want her. He only cared for their barbaric daughter. Violet huffed angrily as she left the room. She vowed that neither the doctor nor Valentine would ever see this letter. It was just a matter of biding the time until Godfrey was ready to post it.
***</p>
A fortnight passed swiftly at the hospital. Nearly seventy gowns began to be snipped, altered and sewn back expertly. Many of the older women appreciated the thought but not Valentine's style of dress, and so passed on her generosity. Madam Halifax ordered a good set of theatrical foils for Valentine's production, and the mischief-maker herself began the arduous copying of twenty-four scripts by hand for the play auditions, a tiring effort that took her quite some time.
Though far more settled from Valentine's stir, the women of Mistress Halifax's were livelier since her escapade, and the theatrically inclined among them were waiting with varying degrees of patience to join the play. It was already decided whom Valentine was going to be, and at Lilian's insistence, August had to participate in the actual production. That meant only one thing.
"Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour draws on apace-" the pair circled each other in the asylum's operating theatre, being the only space yet large enough to house a duel. Arms outstretched, foil in hand, August lunged with a thrust and was parried smoothly. "Four happy days bring in another moon, but oh, methinks... How slow this old moon wanes." Another flash, the exchange of metal, and the fight became a sensuous dance. August thrust again, Valentine caught and pressed it aside. She thrust to his deflection, and the flurry increased. "She lingers my desires, like to a step-dame or a dowager long withering out a young man's revenue." Now Valentine took the offensive, pressing her lover back with sword and word.
"Four days will quickly steep themselves in night. Four nights will quickly dream away the time!" She pursued him with zeal, steps sure and rapid. August was dazzled by the flurry of her blows, and actually struggled to parry them as they came. She did not hold back in private; that was for certain. "And then, the moon, like to a silver bow new-bent in heaven, shall behold the night of our... solemnities." Her sword's blunted tip danced and rent the air with its neat sound, her body charged by the thrill of exercise and unconventional foreplay. August pulled himself together to answer her press of quick attacks and attempted a turnabout. Their foils skittered over each other and their feet shuffled back-and-forth, to-and-fro. Valentine took control of the exchange in one instant, August snatched it the next.