The Diary of Cozette Read online

  “They are unpolished…rough at best, Cozette.” He spoke with subtle restraint edging his voice.

  “Please, Ernest?” I slipped my hand around his waist in a friendly hug equal in fashion to what he had shown me.

  “Right, uh…very well. Then we’re…off to bed, then. It will be hell to pay should Mrs. Abbot find us.”

  “Just one then, and I’ll obey whatever you wish.”

  “Doubtful,” he mumbled.

  Unsure I heard him correctly I sat straight, face-to-face with him. “Please accept my apologies Ernest, but I am not clear if I heard you correctly. Would you be so kind as to repeat it?”

  His soft breath wafted across my face as I waited. These newfound emotions put thoughts in my head that a proper young woman should not have. I knew this and yet was compelled to stay.

  “It is not important and we should not waste precious time. Do you wish to hear my poem or not?”

  His abrupt tone, so quick to turn, startled me. Indeed, his brooding manner would serve him well as I imagined him years from now, seated in a library surrounded by leather volumes of his work, his head bent in stern concentration on his craft.

  “Yes, most passionately, Ernest.”

  His clipped manner bruised my youthful ardor and I leaned against him, like a child awaiting a bedtime story. Secure in his embrace, regardless of the reason.

  “There is one I have dabbled with, though it is not finished, I need to add flesh to it.”

  “Flesh?” The very word in the swirl of emotions inside me and added to the surreal veil of darkness, caused goose bumps to rise on my arms.

  “It only means that it is not yet to my complete satisfaction, my little bird.”

  “Ernest, why do you call me your little bird?” The musky scent of his skin wafted near my nose as I pressed near, taking comfort in the steady beating of his heart.

  “You are like a new bird, Cozette, urged by your sense of adventure, yet unaware of the perils of the world below.”

  “But do not all birds eventually leave the nest, Ernest?” I traced my finger over the soft edge of his shirt, tempted to touch the skin beneath.

  “True, and one day you will leave the protection you’ve come to know. And you will know then of what I speak.”

  I smiled. “I shall never desire to leave here, Ernest, as long as you are here.” I leaned back to look in his eyes and sensed more than our companionship pass between us. Nevertheless, neither of us acted upon it.

  “If ever more lovely a sight do I see,” he began, “amid a world so bleak. ’Tis one so slight, so fair and sweet, who comes with the moon, in secret to meet. Shall forever hidden our—”

  He ended there and I waited for the span of his heartbeat.

  His voice soft and low touched my heart in ways unexpected.

  “Our…? Our what, Ernest?” My head on his shoulder, I lay content, staring at the murky, cream-colored image of the moon through the filthy windowpane of the cellar.

  “That is where it ends. I have not finished it.”

  “There is great mystery in it then, isn’t there?” I whispered, turning my face into the warm, earthy scent of his neck. “I am quite certain, if you will it, the rest will come to you. I’ve no doubt your gift will be read by many one day.”

  “You flatter me with your words, my little bird.”

  His fingers lifted my chin and in the dim moonlight, I saw his eyes glittering like river stones. They held me captive and my body reacted in ways I did not fully understand. Yet I was not afraid to be alone with him.

  “I speak the truth Ernest, not with pretense of flattery.”

  My young breasts experienced an odd heaviness and between my legs, a strange awareness. Most keenly was I alert to the protrusion I sat upon and memory of Edward’s sinful postcards leapt to my mind. Was Ernest capable of the same aggressive actions as my vile cousin? I could not believe it, even as I waited, my heart pounding hard in my chest.

  He held my gaze, hesitating as he lowered his head, his breath upon my face, warm and sweet. Unhurried he waited, his eyes searching mine, in silent invitation for me to close the distance between us at my will.

  When at last I could no longer stand the anticipation, I cupped his face in my hands and rushed to meet his lips with a fierce desire.

  Heat, fueled by youth and desperation, created the ferocity inside me. I shifted, lifting my skirts, placing my knees either side of his hips to get as close as I desired to be. I was most painfully aware of the pulsing sensations between my legs, but had no shame in possessing them.

  I held his face in my trembling hands as his mouth slanted over mine. His mouth divine, I treasured each touch of his lips. I could not, most certainly did not, quell the passion rising strong inside me as his tongue pushed between my lips. I moaned against his mouth as his firm, callused hands skimmed under my skirt and moved over my naked thighs.

  He responded in kind against my mouth showing his pleasure when I pressed the warm dampness betwixt my legs against his bulging manhood. I sensed his ardor grow in response to my subtle movement. Each kiss left me most desperate, setting to fire a blaze that started at my mouth and burned to the deepest part of me.

  In my sensual haze, reason had no virtue. I would have obliged had he turned me onto my back and taken my virginity altogether most willingly, even as he had already stolen my heart.

  Instead, and to my great disappointment, he pushed me gently from his lap and hurried to his feet.

  “I cannot…not like this,” he choked out in a whisper and took leave, disappearing into the darkness without a word. I was left utterly confused and breathless.

  After a few moments, I gathered what was left of my pride, remembering Edward’s words as I hurried back to my room. I lay awake into the wee hours of dawn replaying the incident in my head. What had I missed? How had I offended him? Was my behavior like that of a common whore? I would find him and make him tell me to my face.

  He had no knowledge of what he’d awakened. I was captivated by this curious desire to feel again the intensity of the raw hunger of passion.

  Were these the same emotions that drove Edward to his mindless aggression? If so, then is it possible to have such feelings without being connected to the intimacies of the heart? Nevertheless, all the better the passion if given these intimacies?

  So many are the questions spinning through my mind and I have no answers, but this I do know. Ernest by his gallant and gentle compassion, has restored, perhaps set free for the first time that which Edward destroyed. He is evidence that there are still gentlemen in this world turned upside down.

  ~A.C.B.

  June 23, 1871

  Ernest says we cannot meet and does not know when we will be able to again. He fears Mr. Abbot is watching us more closely. I have kept busy with my chores and have taught some of the young girls to read and to write. I hope he will send word soon to meet him. I have so many questions with regard to these unusual feelings inside me.

  I am not sure Ernest feels the same after we last met, but I am compelled, when I see him again, to press him further for the answers I seek.

  I have caught Mrs. Abbot watching me from the window as I hang the laundry. Perhaps Ernest is right—we need to be careful. I would hate him to lose his position. Now that Elizabeth is gone, he is the only one here saving me from going mad.

  ~A.C.B.

  July 7, 1871

  Today Mr. Abbot sent Ernest and a few others to a neighboring farm to help with the harvest.

  “We are cheap labor, Cozette. Mr. Abbot says the pay is good and has promised each of us a share of the payment, once the harvest is complete. I do not trust him, but neither can I turn down the offer. My mother grows more ill. I am afraid in this I have little choice. I will return after harvest, they say, late September, early October.”

  Over two months without Ernest? I had to be strong. I didn’t want to appear childish. If I wanted Ernest to see me as a woman, I would have to be strong. “I
will think of you daily.”

  His eyes touched mine in a way his hands could not.

  “You will? I will carry that thought then and it will make the time breeze by. I will send word when we are to return. Meantime, please be careful, my little bird.”

  I stared at him over the clothesline, my knuckles white from holding it tight, keeping myself from skirting beneath it and into Ernest’s safe embrace.

  “Mr. Abbot is waiting.” He gave a nod, looked at me once over his shoulder and disappeared around the side of the house.

  “I will do the same, Ernest,” I whispered after him.

  I do not know how I will stomach these next few weeks, but for the sake of Ernest, I will find a way.

  ~A.C.B.

  August 17, 1871

  I have taught myself to whittle. It is a primitive form certainly of passing the time, but I find it an agreeable one. One of the young boys helping with the garden showed me the small penknife he carries in secret. He says it was his father’s. I am no good at it and much better creating with words, so I have discovered. I have taken to telling stories to the young girls at night as we lie in our beds. It gives them something other than despair to go to sleep on. I abhor the nights, when my mind and heart is restless with thinking about Ernest. I wonder if he is thinking of me? Perhaps I will whittle a spear and poke out Mr. Abbot’s eyes for taking my Ernest away.

  ~A.C.B.

  October 1, 1871

  The young boy with the knife slipped a note into my pocket today as I was cleaning beans. It stated simply, “Return today.” I turned to ask him how he’d come by it, but the boy was already gone. Thunder rolls in the distance, a sign of an impending storm. I pray it will not detain Ernest. Tonight I will sneak from my bunk and wait in the cellar, trusting he will be there.

  ~A.C.B.

  October 2, 1871

  Had the torrential rain not arrived, it is likely Mr. Abbot would have called upon Ernest to do other chores and he would not have been able to meet with me. But it was fate that made it possible and I would not waste the opportunity to speak to him of these feelings I keep deep inside for him. He has no idea of the utter joy he has given to my bleak colorless existence simply by his camaraderie. Is this love? Does he feel the same? I do not know, but this I do know, his affection and care for me I shall forever keep sealed in my heart.

  My dreams are filled with thinking of us in wedded bliss, our moments together as husband and wife. He is wise beyond his years as evidenced by his gentle persuasion to ensure the safety of my passage. I must pen every word of our evening together, to keep the memory alive even as I leave him in but a few hours. So that when I close my eyes, I will remember….

  Our clothes sodden from the soaking rain of the day, Ernest held my shoulders as he spoke with urgency in his voice.

  “I overheard Mr. Abbot’s conversation this morning to a strange man in his office as I prepared the fire. I pretended to go about my business. Mr. Abbot assured the man of my loyalty under penalty of repercussion and so permitted him to speak freely.”

  “Oh, Ernest.” I touched his shoulder, horrified at the thought of what Mr. Abbot was capable of. Indeed, I was a great deal more concerned about his welfare than the news he carried.

  “It is not fear of Mr. Abbot’s threats that bring me concern, little bird, but the subject of their conversation that prompted our urgent meeting.”

  Ernest clasped my hands between his, keeping his voice low.

  “I heard them strike a bargain of fifty pounds for a young virgin, one that is agreeable and preferably has fiery disposition.”

  I backed away, not wanting to hear the truth plainly before me.

  “There is no girl possessing these qualities living here other than you. This is why you must leave, my little bird, my sweet Cozette. Since Elizabeth’s disappearance, I have heard tales of the horrors that await young girls in the hands of these men. Their wealth makes them very powerful and they find prey through men like Mr. Abbot, whose greed extends beyond his noble facade.”

  True, I was no innocent to these stories. I had heard a few told in hushed whispers, but believed them to be rumors of bitter, ungrateful residents of the orphanage. However, this was Ernest, and I knew he would not lie to me.

  I drew our entwined hands to my sodden chest. My blouse, transparent from the rain, clung to my skin. “Then we shall leave at once…together, tonight, this very instant.” I held tight to his hand and turned to leave, true to my word. He tugged me around to face him and brought our entwined hands to his lips, placing a firm kiss to the back of my hand.

  “I have enough to get you safe passage to London. I will need to stay on a few more months and earn enough to come to you. But I swear, I will find you as soon as I am able.”

  “It is too dangerous. No, I cannot even consider the thought of leaving here without you, Ernest.” My youthful determination grew more defiant.

  “And I cannot bear to think of what fate awaits you if you do not leave this very night.”

  He drew me into his embrace, warm and secure, but deep down I knew he spoke the truth. How would I survive without him? Yet I could not disregard the brave intent of his concern for me.

  “Please promise then that you will make every effort to be well and come to me without undue delay. I will secure employment and find us suitable quarters and when you come, we will make haste to Scotland where we will find a way to be married.” I was not concerned under these dire circumstances that Ernest had not yet asked for my consent to be his wife. There was no time to stand on protocol.

  He held me tight and most fervently I wanted the moment to last an eternity.

  “We’ll have a grand life. You can write your poetry, I will tend our garden, and in the winter, you can read to me. I don’t require much, Ernest. I am content as any amount of wealth can afford to be here in your embrace.”

  I nestled my cheek where his shirt parted, exposing his bare chest, drawing my arms tight about his waist, determined not to let go. Here was my safe haven, my Ernest whose scent was the earth and rain, strong and courageous.

  His chin rested atop my head and I snuggled closer. The wetness of his shirt was cool on my skin. I am thankful for such companionship amid such deception. I wanted to find a way to seal our promise to one another, my longing to be one with him ardent as ever.

  With my face hidden against his firm brown chest I dipped my hand cautiously between our pressed bodies and stroked his length even as Edward had once forced me to do. For all I knew, this gesture pleased men, but to what end I had yet to learn.

  Ernest uttered a quiet gasp accompanied by a slight jerk of his groin against my palm.

  “I want to give you pleasure, Ernest. Does this please you? It frightens me so that I may never see you again.” I clung to him as though some phantom specter was about to snatch him from my grasp. His skin, warm and smelling of firewood, teased my nose.

  “Cozette,” he spoke softly through clenched teeth, “do you not know the dangers in teasing a man with such gestures?”

  “As though I administer such practices with every man I meet? Be assured, my sweet friend, I have touched no one with greater knowledge of my actions.” I laughed quietly at his absurd comment. “Besides, what possible danger do I have to fear from you, my dearest confidant and my most cherished companion?” My breath hung heavy in my chest, desire, like smoke curled deep in my belly. Wetness seeped from the juncture between my legs. I knew well how babies came into the world. One had only to observe nature to understand the principle. Yet the union of a man and woman intrigued me, and the intensity of my emotions left me breathless and wanting.

  “I will not risk leaving you with child, Cozette. It will be enough to find your way on your own.”

  His hand covered mine and stilled as my grasp held firm. At that moment I wanted only to give myself to him completely, I had not given thought to bearing his child, though if that were to occur, I could not imagine a greater happiness. “I have no
way of knowing if I shall ever see you again, Ernest, and I fear never being able to show you how deeply I care for you.” I lifted my gaze to his, realizing that since my arrival I had grown so with little effort I could stand on tiptoe and meet his lips fully.

  I could not see his expression for the darkness, but my body sensed the tension between us, crackling like the air of a spring storm. He held still, his gaze poised forward. “I know my hand upon you affects you, you have grown strong and hard at my touch.”

  I heard him swallow, and release a quiet sound deep in his throat.

  “I cannot dispute the pleasure, Cozette. It is natural for a man to experience such changes in the course of events leading to…”

  I waited for him to finish, waited to hear the words from his own lips. My heart beat like fury in my chest and I picked up his palm, resting it on my breast. “And is it as natural for me to possess similar desires? See what you do to me, Ernest, how my heart beats with such fire,” I whispered. With haste, I unfastened the rest of the buttons of his shirt, leaving it to hang open, exposing his firm chest.

  I steered my hand around his trim waist, his skin still damp from the rain. His flesh was cool across my palms as I explored the sinewy flesh of his back, pressing down toward the curve to the top of his breeches. My body warmed in response to his naked flesh. With a boldness I knew not was in me, I leaned forward and placed a kiss on the warm, hard plane of his chest, delighting when his body reacted agreeably. Driven by desire, and his hands caressing my shoulders, I journeyed farther on my virginal quest, teasing his tight nipple with my tongue and nipping him with my teeth.

  He did not speak, but his quiet sighs gave me the courage to slip my hands below the waistband of his breeches, finding to my wicked surprise that he wore no undergarments.

  I pressed my young breasts against his chest, taking full advantage of his silent permission to explore. Glorious as an artist’s sculpture his buttocks were firm and muscular, his sinewy strength contracting beneath my inexperienced hand. He caressed my breast, mimicking with gentleness my hand over his smooth buttocks. I closed my eyes, lost to the pleasure I derived from touching him. I felt no sin in our exploration. We were two lovers about to part for the unknown, with but one last chance to express our deepest, most binding emotions.