Captivation

Chapter 9

Standard Disclaimer applied ^_^

Dorothy had come to hate Maresfield. She had never much liked the countryside, preferring the bustle and gossip of London, but now she truly hated it. This extended countryside visit proved to her without a shadow of a doubt that the small town had no good qualities.

Dorothy missed London. She missed the balls and the gambling houses. She missed the shops and the diversity of goods that were available. She missed the high society and the rich young gentlemen who used to pay her such devoted attention. Hell, she even missed the priggish young ladies who went out of their way to avoid her. Dorothy grimaced. Avoidance was something that she would have to get used to. Once word got out about her current monetary difficulties the circles in which she used to shine would have little desire to socialise with her.

None of her 'friends' would like an insolvent lady present to remind them of the consequences of one bet too many. None of her 'friends' would care to keep the company of newly poor.

Dorothy was now in the unfortunate position that Treize had been in. She had inherited both his title and his debts. Unfortunately the debts turned out to be much more impressive than the title. It had taken most of Dorothy's own fortune to clear Trieze's liabilities. And now that the last debtor had been paid she was left with a title, an entailed estate that she could not sell and nothing else. She was, in her own and in society's eyes, a pauper.

And the only way out of the situation was marriage; marriage to a commoner with wealth.

She stood in the library of the Kushrinada's ancestral home and she considered her reflection in the mirror above the mantelpiece. Even in her own eyes she looked pale and tired, her fair hair limp despite all the care that had gone into curling it and capturing it high in classic Grecian style on the top of her head.

Marriage.

Would she do it? Would she sell herself, prostitute herself, for the sake of a comfortable debt free life? Would she marry for money?

Dorothy had always considered herself a strong woman, but perhaps when it came to poverty she was weak. The thought of penny pinching and budgets filled her with a sense of dread; maybe she was not so unlike Treize after all. He had obviously experienced the same fears. And those fears had driven him to the point of madness, undertaking a idiotic plan to kidnap a heiress for her money. If Dorothy became desperate would she stoop to similar depths? Would she forgo love for the sake of a life with money?

She shrugged watching her pearl drop earrings sway daintily on her earlobes with the movement. She did not believe in love anyway. It was just a legend told to blushing young virgins, a Holy Grail that none truly found. People believed themselves to be in love whilst in reality they were in lust.

Dorothy was sure that Heero believed himself to be in love with Miss Peacecraft. But she knew that what he felt was only lust and desire. The morals of the day constrained him to bind his feelings of desire into a small little package and label it love. In days of old he would have been able to abduct the girl, have his way with her and satisfy his lust. And Dorothy was sure that after he had done that he would not be 'in love' with her.

There was no such thing as love, just extremes of want.

"Mr Winner is here to see you."

Dorothy jumped, she had not heard her irritating little maid arrive; Mary had probably not knocked to announce herself but just walked in. Dorothy could not help but roll her eyes in annoyance. As soon as she secured a husband with a fortune she would have great satisfaction dismissing the girl. Trying to hide her startled movement Dorothy turned around smoothing the silk of her dress. Thankfully the maid had not bought Quatre through as she had last time so that Dorothy had a little time to compose herself.

Compose herself? Dorothy raised an eyebrow at the thought. Whenever she saw Quatre she felt an overwhelming need to be a 'good girl' so that she could perhaps earn his respect. It reminded her uncomfortably of when she was a child trying to earn the attention of her father. She had always tried to be a good girl and do what she believed he wanted her to do. Unfortunately she had never been able to earn his regard and respect and once she entered adolescence she had given up trying.

But now, Quatre evoked the same old feelings in her. Be a good girl and maybe he will smile at you, maybe he will show his approval. Why was that? Why did she suddenly feel that she needed someone's approval when she had not cared for anyones in so many years? She frowned then noted that the maid was still waiting and gave instructions for the girl to show Quatre in.

Dorothy swung back to the mirror unable to resist the urge to make sure that her hair was neat and tidy. She pulled her dress down as far as she could to reveal as much cleavage as she was able, and then turned back to the door. Quatre was there, the sunlight gleaming on his golden hair, his blue eyes warm and smiling. Dorothy felt her heart leap at the sight of him and clenched her fists, squeezing her nails into her palms trying to get control over her sudden need for approval tinged with lust.

...lust?

Dorothy blinked. She felt lust for the ambassador? Was it not bad enough that he made her feel like an errant child, did he also have to make her want, no ache, with the need to be held in his arms and kissed until she was breathless. She had never felt such a desire for anyone and it was more than a little disconcerting. And had she not just convinced herself that lust and love were one and the same? She groaned at her epiphany.

She lusted for Quatre.

She loved Quatre.

"Miss, Lady Catalonia?" Quatre sounded concerned. "Are you well?"

Dorothy forced a bright smile on her face "Perfectly Mr Winner." she drawled sounding confident even to her own ears. Her smile began to widen as she sat on a settee. She patted the space next to her. "Please sit down?" she invited.

Dorothy thought very quickly. She could not afford to fall in love with anyone, not least because she did not believe in the emotion. She needed to cold-heartedly find herself a rich husband and to do that she needed to rid herself of these strange feelings for Quatre.

Wanting him to dominate her.

Wanting to be submissive.

Wanting to be obedient.

Dorothy blinked. No! She could not, would not continue to think of such things. It was time to put her theory of extreme desire opposed to love to test. She would rid herself of her obsession. She would regain her cold composure and would return triumphant to London and hunt herself a fortune.

Quatre looked less sure and, ignoring where she invited him to sit, went to a chair a little distance away from her.

Dorothy smile widened. This particular hunt might be entertaining. "Are you afraid of me Mr Winner?" she asked

"No." Quatre answered honestly "Just unsure."

"Unsure of me?" Dorothy repeated and stood up, walking slowly over to him. She placed a finger tip on his shoulder and walked around him, trailing her hand very slowly over his skin. Quatre shivered slightly and Dorothy smiled in satisfaction. Perhaps he felt lust for her too.

"I find you difficult to understand." Quatre said looking up at her.

Dorothy noted with interest that his eyes were drawn frequently to her chest. She preened at the small attention and walked around him again, letting her fingers this time touch the golden hair on his head.

"Oh, come now." Dorothy laughed lightly "I am very easy to understand Mr Winner."

Quatre captured her hand in his own firm grip "No you are not." he said looking at her with earnest big blue eyes. Dorothy felt her grin fade and she felt her heart start to race "You are an enigma to me; you are strong willed and independent yet you seem to want to be dominated." Quatre continued.

Dorothy felt her mouth drop open. How could he know her secret desire? Deny it! "..I want to be dominated..?" she repeated in confusion "Oh Mr Winner, you do not understand me at all." she said shaking her head slightly causing her pearl earrings to start dancing.

"I think at this moment I understand you very well." Quatre countered "Better, perhaps than you know yourself." he suddenly pulled her hand sharply causing her to jerk forward. His free hand snaked around her waist and before she knew what was happening she found herself sitting on his knee "You want me." He lowered his face towards hers and involuntarily she leaned back wanting him to kiss her but scared of loosing herself in him if she did.

"...I want you?" she repeated, her breasts feeling suddenly constricted in her light silk gown.

"You desire me." Quatre breathed on her neck sending delicious tingles down her back.

"..I desire you?" Dorothy repeated in a whisper, she was almost prone now, her head tilted back in the crook of his strong arm mentally wishing that he would just stop talking and start touching her.

"You love me.." Quatre murmured before kissing her on her lips.

Dorothy felt the tips of her toes curl in her dainty silk slippers. Waves of pleasure and lust flowed through her. Never before had a simple kiss created so much desire in her. His lips were firm on hers, his tongue tasting her seeking entry into her mouth. Eagerly she parted her lips and allowed her own tongue to battle with his. She could scarcely think and was grateful when he pulled his lips from hers to murmur "Marry me" before kissing her soundly once again.

...love

...marriage?

No! Dorothy felt herself start to panic. He wanted to marry her? It was her plan to wed, but not to him. Not to Quatre. She could not marry someone for whom she felt such intense emotion. If she married Quatre she would have to give herself over to him body and soul, she would be an obedient and dutiful wife; her heart would demand it. He would be her master. No! She could not allow it.

She started to struggle, fighting her way from his grasp. She flew out of his lap before pausing a few paces away spinning around to face him. She felt her skirts flaring out around her ankles before settling back cold against her hot skin. He watched her with surprise on his face as she held a hand to her kiss swollen lips.

"No!" she cried out "I will never marry you!" she rubbed her hand across her mouth in an act of disgust prompted by the feelings the kiss had stirred in her. She saw his startled look and the realisation of rejection that passed through his eyes. He said nothing but the hurt in his eyes screamed to her. She wanted to gather him up and comfort him, mother him, love him.

"No!" she whispered this time and then turned and ran from the room leaving Quatre behind, his arms raised towards her.

* * *

Relena spent the morning with her step-father, enjoying his company and feeling relaxed and happy. When she was with him she felt like a child again, free of responsibility and care. It was an enjoyable feeling, however she knew that it would not last. As soon as she left the front door of the Rectory the weight of the world would be upon her again.

Wufei was gone. He had left to discover peace for his troubled soul and Relena could only wish that her brother be granted that peace soon. Dr Barry would be a good companion. Whilst God only knew what the future held for the pair, Relena knew that in the short term at least Barry would guide Wufei and stand for no nonsense.

Reverend Darlian would soon be gone. He had been waiting only for the correct moment to tell Relena of his plans and now he had done that it was his intention to travel as soon as he possibly could. He did not intend to take many possessions with him. Indeed it was his intention to travel with a few clothes, a bible and a mourning ring which was set with a woven lock of his dear wife's hair styled in an intricate plait. He had little need or want for anything else, apart from his stepdaughters blessing. And Relena gave it freely, although sadly, as she would miss her dear father.

When Relena returned to Sanq Hall Peygan informed her that Mr Barton had called and was currently in the ball room doing 'some work'. Relena bit her lip in thought. She did not want to disturb Trowa, but she felt that she needed to talk to him about Catherine and her attachment to Rashid.

She was also a little curious. She had thought that the vista in the ballroom was complete, so what was Trowa working on? Walking to the room in question, she paused at the door. It was not a room that she liked to frequent. As much as she admired Trowa's work, she found it more than a little disconcerting to see herself standing on a balcony every time she entered. Relena was not a vain person; she knew that her looks were tolerable but found it difficult to gaze at her image for any length of time and not be drawn to its imperfections. And so she avoided the life-sized portrait of herself whenever she could.

As Peygan had said, Trowa was working. Brush in one hand, palette in the other, he appeared to be touching up the orchard part of the vista, where the tiny portraits of Catherine and Hilde were. Relena walked quietly up to him, not wishing to startle or disturb him, but curious as to what he was doing to a painting that she had assumed was complete.

"Miss Peacecraft" he said quietly, not looking towards her. She was surprised that he had detected her presence as she had approached as quietly as she could. He continued to paint tiny strokes with a fine brush.

"Mr Barton" Relena acknowledged "What are you doing?" she came to stand behind him. He was too tall for her to look over his shoulder; she had to peep around him.

"You have come to talk about Catherine." he said not pausing in his work "You have come to see if I give permission for her marriage to Rashid."

Relena smiled faintly, a little unnerved at his perception, her attention drawn away from the painting and back to the artist. "How did you know?" she asked

Trowa stopped painting and turned to her, his green eyes solemn, but his mouth stretched into a little smile "I am an artist. I am trained to notice detail. Is it so surprising that I see the happiness in my sister's eyes when she speaks of Mr Rashid?"

"Will you give your permission?" Relena asked

Trowa snorted "Catherine has never needed my permission for anything. She has always chosen her path for herself." he turned back to the painting "But she has my blessing should Rashid ask her to go with him and should she accept."

Relena looked around his shoulder at his work and felt a jolt of surprise. Trowa had painted a couple strolling hand in hand in the orchard - the gentleman looked grave and the lady happy. The faces were almost identical, it was a representation of Dr Barry as both man and woman.

".Dr Barry.." Relena murmured

"I have always admired strong women. My mother was strong, she had the determination to give me a good life no matter the cost to her own reputation. Catherine takes after her" he pointed towards the little portrait of Catherine on the wall standing beside Hilde gathering apples. "She is strong enough to take the challenge of living in a different culture, and she will be happy. In all of the women portrayed here I have seen great strength of will and character." Trowa commented, smiling faintly at Relena's sudden blush as she realised that he included her in his list and felt unworthy. "Unfortunately that trait is not encouraged in this age".

Relena looked at Trowa sadly "She and Wufei have gone." she told him.

"I know." Trowa said. He looked at the painting for a little longer, then started to clean his brushes

Relena gazed at the picture on the wall, taking in the happiness in the doctor's face, innocent and glowing in the warmth of a summer day. In comparison the face of the male Dr Barry was stern, his frock coat was long and heavy looking as if he was dressed for a snowy day. Glancing at Trowa she wondered how much he knew about the mysterious doctor's past and what had gone between them. "Did she know that you knew?" she finally asked.

Trowa's smile stretched just a little wider "You mean did she sit for the sketch that you saw." he admonished.

Relena again coloured "Yes, that is what I meant." she agreed, there was no point at all being evasive with a man as astute at Trowa.

"No, she did not sit for the drawing." Trowa admitted "That work was one of pure imagination on my part - what I imagined the unmasked woman to be like, sensuous yet innocent, stern yet soft. The woman she ought to be, not the one that hides out of fear of discovery."

Relena nodded and continued to look at the vista. As she studied the painting she noted a tiny figure further back in the orchard, quite on her own standing still and straight, staring back out of the painting at her. If Relena had not been looking so closely she would have missed it, it was so camouflaged by the dappled shadows of the trees under which she stood. Relena could not help but chuckle.

"My brother is going to be most annoyed to find that you have painted Lady Une on his mural." she commented casting a side long look at Trowa. He gave her a rare smile.

"He will never see her." he said "Your brother does not have the eye for art that you do."

Relena considered this and thought it probably true. "Another woman you admire?" she asked. She noted with interest that he flushed a little, but he did not answer. She frowned for a moment considering Trowa. "Mr Barton, may I ask your opinion?" Trowa continued to gaze at the miniature figure and said nothing. Relena took that to be assent. "Do you think it possible that Lady Une killed Helena Kushrinada?" she asked in a rush, wondering why she asked this of the painter. It was a question that plagued her; caused her doubt. She knew that very soon she would have to justify her actions to Heero and that she needed to rid herself of any doubt if she was to convince Heero that she was right to do as she did.

Trowa turned to her. "Does it make a difference?" he asked.

Relena blinked, then smiled "No" she said simply. And it was true. Even if Une was guilty Relena would still stand by and defend her own actions.

"Why do you not ask her?" Trowa asked again.

"I do not want to cause her offence."

"Are you scared of what answer she might give you? Are you scared of what she could be capable of?"

"No." and it was true, she was not. She had no fears for her own safety at Lady's Une's hands. The lady had changed since her paramour's death and was a gentle more kindly woman. Treize's demise had caused her grief but it had given her an odd sort of stability.

"No." Trowa said. For a moment Relena thought he was repeating back to her what she had said, then she realised it was his answer.

"Why are you so sure?" she asked curious.

"Why are you unsure?" he countered. She flushed at his question and he smiled slightly "You are unsure because of the doubts that others have. And because the dead lady is the sister of the one you love."

Relena, who thought she was already blushing enough, felt her face go even redder. But she nodded "Yes. What you say is true. It would be easier to defend what I have done to Lord Yuy if I was convinced that she is innocent." she shook her head in disgust at herself "I...." she trailed off.

Trowa took pity on her. "It is understandable that you want reassurance." he crossed his arms "I suggest that you do what I do when I need to understand a person. Study her eyes." Relena looked closely at the painting, but Trowa shook his head "Not as I have painted her. I may be biased. Look at her eyes in true life. You asked why I was sure that she was not a killer. The reason why I am so sure is that I have looked into her eyes. I saw confusion, I saw loss, I saw anger, but I did not see the eyes of a killer."

Relena was curious "And when did you have the opportunity to gaze into Lady Une's eyes?" she asked with a smile that broadened as Trowa's face took on a shade of pink.

"When I asked for and was granted the post of Art Master at your mill school."

* * *

Heero was ready to depart from London for East Sussex soon after his discussion with Dr Jaye. The child labour law had failed to pass again and he was eager to leave the wretched capital. He wanted to return to the peace and quiet of the countryside and, most importantly, continue to court Relena.

....Relena...

Whenever he thought of her, everything else ceased to be. Worries flowed away, the noise of the city muted, people's whose presence irritated him disappeared. There was only the thought of the beautiful innocent girl waiting for him at Sanq Hall.

Heero grimaced. He hoped that she was waiting. He had heard nothing from her, no response to the letter that he had sent with her brother asking if he could start to formally call on her. Heero knew that Millardo was a protective brother and it was possible that he had not passed Heero's correspondence on to Relena. No matter, soon he would be back and nothing that Millardo could do or say would keep him from her.

He walked down the stairs of his townhouse quickly, pausing in the foyer noting all his cases packed and ready to be placed in the carriage. It was Heero's intention to ride on ahead of the slower carriage he wanted to be in Maresfield by evening and proposing to Relena by suppertime. A strange smile spread across his face as he though of being married to her, imagining waking up with her every morning for the rest of his life. He could not help but smile at the warm comforting feeling that thought gave him.

A swift rapping at the door pulled him from his thoughts, and then a scowl replaced the smile. The thought that he might be delayed irritated him, but before he could stop his butler, he had opened the door. Heero was determined not to be home to any caller, and moved quietly in to the drawing room out of sight of anyone who stood on the doorstep.

"..sir?" his butler entered the dark room peering around trying to spot Heero.

"I am not in." Heero hissed.

"Yes sir." The butler agreed, but held out a tray with a letter upon it. "You did request any correspondence to be bought to you immediately sir."

Heero nodded and eagerly took the envelope. Immediately he was disappointed. The writing was not the flowing elegant hand of Relena. He opened it anyway and started to read, a wild grin began to spread across his face. The butler, not particularly liking the expression was grateful when yet another knock at the door demanded that he open it.

Heero continued to read. It was from the House of Lords. It had been decided that another parliamentary enquiry should be made into limiting hours in all mills to 10 for people under the age of 18. Heero smiled fiercely. The exhaustive hours of canvassing he had put in over the last few days had, in a small way, succeeded. He felt the sweet thrill of a battle won. A small battle to be sure, but it gave him another chance.

His mind worked fast. He would need to find workers willing to travel to London and be interviewed in front of a parliamentary committee. A mixture of gender and age would be required, perhaps some children from the mill in Maresfield would be willing. Relena would be able to help.

...Relena...

He folded the letter swiftly and placed it inside the breast of his fitted black jacket. He would travel at once to Relena. He would wait no more. He needed her beside him if he was to succeed at this task, her natural diplomacy was a perfect foil to his stern doggedness. Heero turned to the door and saw framed in it his old guardian.

"Dr Jaye!" he exclaimed, taking him by the shoulders "I have very good news sir!"

Dr Jaye gazed solemnly back, his eyes enlarged by thick spectacles. His claw like hands covered Heero's in silent greeting. "I have news for you too, my boy."

TBC

Authors Note:

On 16 March 1832 Michael Sadler intoduced Bill in Parliament limiting hours in all mills to 10 for people under the age of 18. It failed, but in April it was decided to have another parliamentary enquiry. On 9 July 1832 Michael discovered that at least six workers interviewed had been fired. Because of this he decided that no more workers would be asked to attend the enquiry, but instead he targeted the doctors who treated them.

Please note that I am not following this time line exactly - I am using valid historic events, but altering the dates to fit the regency period.