Chapter 110: Reciprocated love
In the next morning, when the sun, pale and cold, had not yet risen from the deep green moors of Warwickshire, two strong enough blows left room to be heard on Diane's door.
She was not quite awake yet, as it was precisely those worried knocks on her door that made awakening even more agitated and complicated.
She immediately got up.
The lady looked around her, in her room, watched the rays of the sun invade her room with a certain light.
What time could it be? Estimated from the position of the sun, certainly no more than seven in the morning.
The New Year had just passed, and a few days before, the year 1736 had arrived for everyone.
She was grateful last year had finally gone away, too many bad things had happened to her in that time.
Diane had lost a battle, she had been left without a goal, she had got pregnant by men she had no love for and she had lost Francis, her best friend.
How strange, yet she felt it was an eternity since he had died, even if, from that tragic event, she could only count more than a few months.
Time had passed quickly, it always passed quickly when you lost someone you cared about and whoever claimed that without affection time passes slowly was just a liar, because, when you think of a person, the heart always beats fast and so the passage of time.
She had started fighting under the pretext of avenging her brother's untimely death, then too many deaths had passed to avenge not giving Diane any time to understand what she really was doing.
Her own emotions had attacked her and plunged her mind into a state of confusion, which had completely distracted her from realising that everything she had done, she had done only for herself.
Anyway, once again her thoughts were distracting her, letting her completely forget that at that moment someone was looking for her.
-Come in...- her voice came out of her lips in an unexpectedly tremulous and weak way.
The light but precious cherry wood door of the room slowly opened, leaving behind it a slight creak and its own woody scent.
The figure of Meredith Dustin, lady of Canterbury by marriage and countess of Ireland, appeared almost as expected.
It was strange to see her, after all those days where the woman had become more shy and absent for her, blushing every time she stood close to her.
But now, now unexpectedly Meredith had been looking for some sort of contact with her.
Diane especially wondered where Lady Meredith took all the time and accuracy to always be so fragrant and tidy in the early hours of the morning, how she managed to keep those long, straight chestnut brown hair neatly closed in a perfect, long braid down to her bottom, when did she had the time to dress and perfume herself with that precious rose water.
Diane on the contrary in the early hours of the morning was somewhat disheveled, held the huge mass of long black curls ruffled over her head, let them fall on her shoulders, smelled of sweat, from the previous night and wore her white nightgown lowered over one of her shoulders, her light dark, mulatto skin was weakly warmed by the sunlight.
-Good morning- greeted the lady quite informally, taking her cold hands one inside the other.
Diane noticed, as she kept her gaze down, that she was actually quite embarrassed from the evening of a few weeks before, but she somehow wanted to put an end to the embarrassment of the following days anyway.
Meredith glanced at the cradle from a distance: the babies slept there, still, baby as they might be they weren't screaming, they weren't crying, they were quiet enough, Cassidy and Logan Stanley.
She smiled, they were small, sweet and smelled of warm and sugary milk, which spread from them in the air up to her nostrils.
-Olivia is still asleep...- lady Dustin tried to justify and almost change the subject, closing the door silently with the palm of her hand.
-I just wanted to clarify, for the other evening, for that kiss...- Meredith had begun with restlessness to rub her hands against each other to fiddle her fingers between them.
-I should have told you about my feelings before acting, I'm so sorry if I was so impulsive with you-.
Diane smiled, she saw how much blush her soft cheeks had accumulated.
In any case, thinking about the past was a lost game, especially when it was now possible and necessary to think about a future.
Obviously she would not have wanted to stay at the cost and expense of the Hannovers for life, obviously she would have wanted to return home, on the Isle of Man, which was the only place she had, but for the moment she could do nothing but hide and wait.
-It's all right, Meredith...- Diane smiled slowly rising from the soft and cool mattress and stretching her body, her arms, getting up for a few seconds on her toes.
The floor was cold and the white marble colour.
At that statement it almost seemed that Lady Meredith Dustin felt much more relieved of a burden than she, from the fact that Diane might be angry with her or feel a grudge.
She sat on one of the soft upholstered chairs, placed in a point in the middle of the room, near the end of the bed.
That awakening was unexpected, but good, all in all, as the good smell of the lady's floral perfume spread throughout the room, all around them.
A slight silence was created around them, as Meredith seated on the soft and ancient chair began to speak again.
-You must understand me, Diane, of course it is a pleasure for me to have you as a guest, you know, I love my husband with all my heart, my John, but that evening, looking into your eyes, everything was clearer, more spontaneous for me...I realised...I might love you-.
Diane shook her head, smiled briefly, she understood what she meant and felt there was no need for further apology.
She placed one of her hands on one of the lady's shoulders, in a certain sense she wanted to calm her, give her the idea that everything was fine, she wanted to make her understand that there was nothing to fear.
-You don't have to hide, not anymore...- Diane reassured her -you don't have to be ashamed of being yourself, even if this may involve sacrifices in your life, be proud of being Meredith Dustin, go ahead...- she tried to reassure her.
The sun was shining, warming the room, the surrounding environment and the faces of the two who in that moment of calm and peace had managed to find some quiet in their busy lives.
They were silent and for the first time Diane could really hear everything around her.
Outside the window she heard the loud and dominant noise of roosters crowing in the distance as the day arrived, she felt the canopy of trees pushed by the wind moving, she heard the horses' hooves beating on the ground, the composed chatter of the people.
That peace, that tranquility, how long had it been since she hadn't felt it? It seemed like a life, an eternity.
-You know, Meredith,I have to confess something...I also think I feel something for you, something strong, not since long...I love your person and your courage, this is what makes a person great, because we, who we love, this is our choice and whatever our decision is, know this will not make us different or less great...I love males and females and I love...- the lips of the two women came together until they touched in a short but passionate kiss. Diane reached out a hand briefly against Meredith's body, under her nightgown, until it touched her breasts. -I love you, girlfriend- exited Diane's lips like a whisper.
The golden bell placed outside the front door rang, it made itself heard, up to the second floor of the house, making them awaken from their daydream and stop their kiss.
-I have to go- Meredith smiled, blushing incredibly on her cheeks, she placed one of her cold and pale hands on Diane's, they were cold, frozen so much so that she felt like she was touching a dead man.
She disappeared behind the door, disappeared for a few seconds, which soon became minutes and so on.
Diane looked around, the room was calm, the atmosphere was warm and silent, which meant that her two children were still sleeping.
She didn't know for how long, or how, but she smelled their strong sugary smell and that was enough to make her calm, to let her know they were fine.
Diane turned her face towards the window, opened it for a few moments, she needed to get some air, everyone needed it, like the smell that spread in that room smelled of sweat, from the previous night.
It had been very hot that night, incredibly, as, after the birth of the twins, her menstruation had returned again, bathing the white mattress with red blood.
She looked around, the sky, the moors all around them, the sun had risen, this meant that it was now eight in the morning and this gave her a good half hour to have breakfast before the children woke up.
She left the window and the greenery that surrounded her outside, the wind in her black curly hair, she abandoned all this for some time, making sure that, barefoot, she could calmly walk towards the dining room on the ground floor, right next to the entrance.
This would also give her some time to take a look at what was happening downstairs and why Meredith had disappeared for so many minutes without announcing another word.
She went down the marble stairs, white and cold, slippery, she seemed to be walking on the ice with her bare feet.
And as she descended, step by step she felt the smell of the hot food and coffee coming to her nostrils getting stronger and more delicate every morning at eight, prepared for breakfast.
She could smell the warm scent of bread and croissants stuffed with jam, the milky smell of butter and cheeses, the hot and fragrant bacon and eggs and a thousand other scents that mixed in her nose.
Diane took the newspaper sheets placed at the entrance, on one of the most precious and ancient furniture in the house.
The ink was fresh off the press.
Some of them did not tell anything of importance, but one, the main one of the directing post of England, interested her very much.
On the first page, under the date January 9th, 1736, it was written and trodden in cursive letters of the untimely death of the Duke of Canterbury, John Hannover.
Diane's eyes widened, clouded briefly from her shock and surprise.
She did not know John very well, nor too well to be able to mourn his death, but as much as she had seen the man do, she seemed to her an honest person, ready to help others.
That man had tried to save Francis, she was grateful for it, but the thing that struck the girl the most and made her grief-stricken was not the news, as much as what happened after.
Meredith's face, pale and soft, was destroyed by so many emotions, so her heart, her eyes, full of pain and tears, were proof of it.
-It's John, he's dead-.
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