March, 1889 — Yaxley Home

The first time he'd properly seduced her had been at a cottage on the cliffs that he'd procured for the occasion. He may have kissed her in an upstairs room at someone else's party, but he wasn't going to undress her there; nothing that felt rushed or cheap. That was the whole point of their affair, at least half of what he gave to her that her husband couldn't; he made her feel wanted, desired, cherished. Every scene had to feel intentional — and, at least in the beginning, sickeningly romantic. A cottage on the cliffs. He'd told her when to arrive. He'd had a lavish dinner set out before she came, wine already decanting. The sun was setting in brilliant hues while he unlaced her dress. He'd kissed her shoulder blades and whispered poetry along the curve of her neck, and still sent her back at a respectable hour.

They'd been sleeping together for months by now, and clearly not every tryst could be like the first one. They had transitioned from spots he arranged to her residence, when she knew her husband would be out for hours. The sun set too early in the winter for him to see her bathed in all those colors very often. But while the sunroom off her garden might have been less overtly romantic than the cottage, Don Juan tried to keep the spirit of these meetings the same. She needed him to see her; when he came to her she was the only thing on his mind.

He'd brought a box of strawberries today. It was still early in the season for strawberries but these ones had been grown in a hothouse, and perhaps with a hint of magical assistance; they were lush red and plump and perfectly heart-shaped. He had used one to teasingly coax her mouth open prior to his first kiss. He'd placed another on her tongue right after he started undressing her, with the mischievous admonishment not to make too much noise while he revealed, caressed, and kissed her skin bit by bit.

Don Juan made a point of undressing her fully every time he visited. Nothing rushed, nothing cheap. After he gently pushed her into a reclining position on the chaise, completely naked, he took a moment to soak in the look of her, relishing the sight. This view was his alone. When she slept with her husband — if she even did anymore; they had by and large left off talking about Mr. Yaxley once they'd fallen into their habit of routine visits — he would have come to her room when the lights were dimmed, or off. She would have worn a nightgown, and he probably didn't bother to remove it. Even if he did, he wouldn't have seen her like this — confident, relaxed, resplendent. Don Juan's own personal queen, dark and alluring and powerful.

"All that's best of dark and bright meet in your aspect and your eye," he quoted to her, trusting her to catch the reference without his having to explain it. He put a hand between her legs and dipped his mouth to her breast. He liked to start this way, with the focus all on her; he liked to feel her quivering around him with the aftershocks of pleasure by the time he rolled her into position on top of her. He kept on this way until her body begged for more, until her hips thrust forward against his hand and the room had begun to smell of sex — then he broke off with a lascivious grin and lowered himself to his knees to put his tongue to work.

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Elfrieda Yaxley and Rowan Yaxley

  

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MJ made this <3

The time spent with Don Juan had turned from days into weeks into months and with it changed the rhythm and cadence of Elfrieda's life. The big house had once dragged her into melancholy; the empty rooms had terrified her; insidious was her isolation and her relationship with her husband was barren. Now the sunroom and the attic and the small study held memories that made her smile and sigh when she walked by. Everywhere they had lain together, they had taken away from Clifford what he would not know was missing.

Yes, he still came to her room sometimes. She could hardly deny him every advance without hurting his ego and rousing his suspicion. She was not even sure if Clifford went to other women when he was away — perhaps he simply lacked the sensuality to find it very important, as long as he got off when the impulse found him at night or in the morning.

Don Juan, on the other hand, was gifted with sensuality like Elfrieda had not thought it possible for a man; not a real one, anyway. She had not known it could be this way. Now they were on the chaise longue and she pressed herself against his hands and was very pleasurably occupied.

Perhaps it had been the months since they were having this affair, the many times they had gotten away. The housekeepers were sent off; Clifford would not return until the morrow.
Elfrieda felt unworried and unconcerned that anything could go wrong this time.

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Don Juan Dempsey and Rowan Yaxley

  

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Looking back on this day, Rowan would always think that on this day, everything had gone exactly right for the truth to come to light. It was just unfortunate that it had to be her that discovered it. That day it had been remarkably sunny, and Rowan was walking quickly to her cousin’s house because she’d been granted a reprieve from work. They might have been cousins, but Yaxleys stuck by their own and Rowan knew that Clifford had been feeling poorly lately. Having relayed that information to her mother, the Yaxley matriarch immediately gathered the ingredients and set about making Clifford’s favorite comfort food.

So it was with her arms full with a basket of food that Rowan made her way up the steps of the Yaxley cousin household and shouldered her way into the foyer. Clifford had told her to put the items by the door, however despite the fact that the dishes were spelled not to go bad, Rowan knew she would make her way into the kitchen and start to put things away. So off she went, humming quietly to herself. It was when she was halfway through that Rowan paused in her movements and humming. Was that - ? Shaking her head, Rowan thought she’d heard the echo of a cry come from upstairs.

Not one to dismiss someone potentially in distress, Rowan immediately made her way upstairs. Clifford wasn’t home yet, it was only Elfrieda who was there. “Elfie?” She called, before moving quietly up the stairs, all the while listening for any more sounds.

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He was almost entirely focused on the task at hand; he almost didn't hear the noise from outside the door. In fairness to him, there was a lot to pay attention to. He was putting a good deal of effort into pleasuring her — not one to do so lazily at any juncture, but certainly not when the whole point of doing this was to make her feel spoiled rotten as she basked in his attentions. He was paying careful attention to the way that her body reacted, either in direct response to his tongue or elsewhere on her body as her arousal continued to build. And he was listening to every noise, every breath, of course — he loved to hear the sounds she made at moments like these. He was mostly hard already, from hardly any physical stimulus — just from listening to her, and anticipating what they'd do next.

But he did hear someone call her name, distantly (— the noise wasn't so distant; his head was). Who would be interrupting? It was a woman's voice, so not her husband. Anyone else was manageable — a maid, the cook, the housekeeper, something like that. Someone that she could dispatch easily.

"Tell her to go away," he said, barely lifting his mouth from her. He expected it to be as simple as that. He even went back to what he was doing, with a mischievous look as he did — expecting that she would have to work hard to keep her voice level as she dismissed whoever was approaching the door, and then would scold him afterwards for having treated her so cruelly-sweet.

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MJ made this <3

Looking back, Elfrieda should have known better than to make the noise she made when Don Juan started to do that thing he did with his tongue, the thing he knew would make her squirm and push on his head a little — not hard enough to push him away, of course, just enough to prolong the pleasure. They were in the habit of taking their time with this; Elfie thought in fact that Don Juan would be happy to do this, almost, forever.

With the maid sent on errands and Clifford out of the house, she felt secure enough to let her guard down. She had made the noise, there was no denying it — foolish, she had been foolish.

Now someone called her name. For a moment she froze. "Henrietta? Come back later, please," she called out. There was a small voice in her head that alerted her that the maid Henrietta was not in the habit of calling her Elfie. That would not be proper for a servant. But, she had to admit, that voice of caution was barely a whisper. There was another matter on her mind -- and the return of the maid meant that Don Juan would soon get up and disapparate, as he had done a few times when they were interrupted in their privacy.

"Hurry," she whispered to Don Juan, "I'm almost there." She threaded her fingers tenderly into his dark curls. "If you get me there before you go," she coaxed him, teasingly, "I'll make it up to you tonight."

That was another bad habit she was indulging lately — to disapparate in the middle of the night and meet her lover, just for a few hours. She knew now that what she had read in her books was not devoid of truth: two people could really feel like there was no way to get enough of each other.

It would have been good, Elfie sometimes thought, to have known that before she got married.

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   Don Juan Dempsey

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No response came as she reached the landing, but Rowan was certain of the sounds she had heard. “Elfie, is everything alright?” Panic rose in her chest; what if her cousin was in trouble? She wasn’t a duelist but she knew she could be of help. Running up to the door she was about to knock and call out once more. But the sounds that reached her now were unmistakable. Breathy and full of passion, it was undeniable what was happening behind doors. On one hand, Rowan was relieved that nothing appeared to be wrong; but on the other, she absolutely knew cousin Clifford was not present in the house.

Overcome with alarm, Rowan burst into the room.

And immediately regretted it. Her cousin splayed out in the bed, ecstasy written across her face, and a man between her legs; a man who was undoubtedly not her husband. “ELFRIEDA!”

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   Elfrieda Yaxley

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They hadn't planned to meet tonight, or at least they hadn't yet. The offer sparked excitement through him. He always felt effervescent when she wanted to throw caution to the wind and see him again soon. He never denied her. The stakes were higher for her than they had ever been for him, and he left managing the risk to her — for him, it was intoxicating to have someone so thoroughly obsessed with him, and he was practically incapable of restraining himself. Not that he didn't also feed into it often enough; he begged to see her, and felt just as glowing when she indulged his requests and when she offered one of her own.

He pressed in more firmly with his tongue, desperate to push her over the edge, but before she climaxed, hell broke loose.

That was perhaps melodramatic. Hell was, in this case, a single woman, but she had burst through the door with an aura of violence and screamed Elfrieda's name at an alarming decibel. Don Juan scrambled backwards instinctively. When his thoughts caught up with him half a second later he cast a stricken glance at Elfrieda, naked on the chaise, vulnerable, and regretted having made even this much movement to abandon her.

"Who is this?" he asked Elfie, meaning what do you want me to do? He had his wand in his pocket, but he had never been much for offensive spells; hadn't used any since Hogwarts. He could probably dispatch one startled woman, but to what end? They'd have to do something with her, and his having stunned her in the meantime might only make matters worse.

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   Elfrieda Yaxley

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MJ made this <3

How treacherous of life it was, to feel so pleasant and easy until the exact moment the bottom fell out beneath her feet. The door opened and her husband's cousin Rowan burst in — Merlin knows what she was doing here. Not only was Elfie left hanging imminently before the precipice, the drop to reality could not be any more harsh. She screamed. Don Juan retreated away from her and thus removed the last bit of cover that had obscured her from view.

She scrambled to pull something, anything over her body, but the only thing in reach was the tablecloth on the small table that held a new botanical arrangement, gifted by Clifford's mother. Vases came tumbling and crashing down. She pulled the cloth over her body.

The tiny decorative magic birds that belonged to the kitschy flower display scattered into the air and made angry, shrill noises.

"Rowan—" Elfie pleaded. "Please don't tell him. Please."
She was aware that Don Juan was somewhere to her side. She wanted to tell him to disapparate, but then she would be all alone. And Elfrieda had never been so scared in her life.

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   Don Juan Dempsey

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Even as the man moved away from Elfie (as she’d expected him to), Rowan felt a surge of indignation on her cousin’s behalf for leaving her in the lurch. Didn’t think to cover her with anything, just stepped back and left her even more exposed. Whilst Elfie was scrambling, Rowan took out her wand and flicked it sharply at the cieling. A heavy sensation settled over the room, hopefully preventing anyone from leaving until this was sorted out. Her cousin’s pleadings fell on her ears, panicked and desperate.

A high flush rose in Rowan’s cheeks. She didn’t have to guess what would have happened had she not walked in. “Are you completely mad?” She barked, flicking her wand at her cousin to conjure a robe for her. “What am I supposed to do, pretend like this never happened? Who is this man, Elfie?”

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The intruder had done something to the room. Don Juan didn't recognize the spell, but he could feel the change in the air. His own wand seemed to burn in his pocket, but he was by now very sure that magic would only make this worse, for both of them. Whoever this woman was — Rowan, who was Rowan? — she evidently had the ability and the desire to report what she had seen to Elfrieda's husband. Don Juan didn't know what he would do if he was told. A part of him thought nothing was the most likely answer; he had been neglecting Elfie for half a year at least, after all, so he couldn't possibly have been that invested in what lay inside her heart. On the other hand, small men could get... possessive, for lack of a better word. He might not have cared a whit what Elfrieda did, whether she languished or suffered without him, but the idea that people might know she was unhappy with him may have hit differently. Or the idea that someone else had been touching something he considered his, whether or not he was using it. This kind of thinking made him uncomfortable deep down in his gut, even if he was only trying it on the way he might try on Clifford Yaxley's shoes. From his perspective the man had never deserved to be married at all, and certainly not to someone with such depths as Elfrieda had.

"Someone who cares more about her than her husband ever did," he declared brashly. He edged back towards Elfie, as though shielding her now might make up for his retreat earlier, although she was already covered and there wasn't actually enough space in the room for him to get between the two women. "So you can tell him that, if you like."

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   Elfrieda Yaxley

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MJ made this <3

Why, why had it been Rowan? The maid they would have handled. Any of the servants might have been reasoned with, bought, dismissed. But Rowan Yaxley was made from different stock, and Elfrieda knew without knowing why that she was a person not to be trifled with.

A robe appeared around her — for all she would resent her husband's cousin for, Elfie would one day remember this concession to her dignity. But right now, she was missing the heart to be grateful; in the same swing of her wand, Rowan sealed the room and made it impossible for Don Juan to escape.

Elfrieda reached for his hand, looking for a safe anchor, trying to hold back the tears that already pressed hot against her eyes. Why could she never be cold and cutting? It might be of more use.

"Please, Rowan... Clifford doesn't even notice me anymore. He only cares for his work. I have no family here, I am drowning in this empty house and he does not care to see it. Don Juan sees me, he is my joy in life. I know it is wrong, but shall I be unhappy for the rest of my days? I'm only 21. Just let us be and forget about it, I am begging you."

Now she was really crying.

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The other man was talking now, quite brazenly as if he had any right to speak at all. With color high in her cheeks, Rowan snapped her gaze from her cousin to him, her brow canted high as she regarded him with a look that quite plainly told him that he shouldn’t have opened his mouth at all. Her heart pounded in her chest rapidly, and she gripped her wand. She’d already prevented the both of them from leaving. She tried to take a breath. She needed to figure out what came next; to figure out if she even could keep something like this to herself at all! But then Elfrieda started to plead with her.

Rowan listened, taking deep breaths as she did so, however giving her cousin the time to plead her case ended up being a mistake. All this talk of unhappiness what did Elfie know about unhappiness? The picture of her sister flashed through her mind, injured because of her father’s foolishness; foolishness that apparently hadn’t escaped this branch of the family. Common sense was fast, but clearly the Yaxleys were faster. Rowan wanted to scream. What good was the idiotic argument for purebloods in this country if it seemed they all had lost their absolute wits?

She felt the beast of rage rise in her chest and she looked from between the both of them. “First of all,” she snapped at the man. “There is very little room for you to talk; not when you’ve just left my cousin in the lurch, bare to the world with little protection. If you can’t protect her like this, forgive me if I believe your skills worthy to go up against so much as a bullfrog’s.” She brandished her wand for emphasis, and angry red sparks crackled from the tip. “You’d do well to keep your mouth shut unless you’d like me to shut. it. for you.” There was no need to illustrate that she knew how to do that and do it well.

“And you,” Rowan rounded on Elfrieda, the propulsion of anger having sparked a match and given way to inferno. “How dare you talk of unhappiness. You have a home. You have a life, you are able to go places, Elfrieda!” She gestured her free hand to the door, her voice cracking with emotion. Elfie could go outside. Elfie could partake in society. Elfie wasn't stuck to a bed, cursed like a maiden locked in a tower. Elfie’s fool-of-a-husband hadn’t squandered their wealth with piles of debt like Rowan’s fool-for-a-father!

Rowan's family had been dealt their lot in life. They’d lived with it. They found ways to do so. But her cousin was complaining she was stuck to the house, that her joy in life…rested in this man. Oooh, she could just slap her. If only it would knock some sense into her. “There’s a whole world out there for you, you can get out of bed, you have society. You have money!” Something her family barely had to keep their heads a float. “And you wanted to throw it all away for some man?” Rowan shook her head vigorously, finally catching the state of disarray the man was in. Her lip curled. “No.” She turned to leave.

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   Elfrieda Yaxley

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Don Juan didn't think this was a fair lecture at all, under the circumstances. He had hardly left Elfie bare to the world, unless this woman was planning on immediately going and telling the world. He'd stepped back because he was startled — quite fairly. How was he supposed to have known they might be interrupted? What ought he to have done, kept his wand in hand while he had his tongue between her legs so that he was ready to stupefy intruders at a moment's notice?

But it didn't matter what she thought of him; the material thing was that she was angry with Elfrieda, and she was leaving. On the one hand it was good for her to go, because he and Elfie needed to talk about this — on the other hand, there was much better moods in which she might have been leaving the conversation.

He turned to Elfie and reached for her hands, pulling her towards him, and lowered his voice. "Who will she tell?" he asked urgently. "How long do we have?"

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MJ made this <3

Elfrieda balked at the rebuttal of her cousin. There was no getting through to her. Rowan was not a sentimental person, she was blunt and loyal to her family; she was not likely to take mercy on her life. For a terrible moment, she felt a sliver of grim relief at the fact that now it would all tumble down, as she watched Rowan's angry back move towards the door. All she wanted was love. Under that pretense, she married. For love, this farce would find its end.
Of course, the dull and brutal truth was not yet apparent to Elfrieda.

"She will go to Clifford. I am sure," she whispered to Don Juan. They took each other's hands and she held them as tightly as she ever had and ever would. "I don't know how long."
She bit down her sobs as she looked up into his face. "Now it will all come out into the open. I don't know what he will do. It will be terrible."

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