|To Be Alive is Not to Live
Author: A.Hand.Full.Of.Pearls PM
Based on the photos from series 2, episode 5. Pritchard the Butler meets a woman who changes his view of life, duty and love...Now 7 chapters long! How his story should have ended because the BBC got it wrong!Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Humor - Chapters: 7 - Words: 8,453 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 03-25-12 - Published: 03-14-12 - Status: Complete - id: 7924273
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The little B&B was nice, it sat on the edge of the others at the end of the street. From their bedroom window they could see the sea. The train tickets and the weekend had been paid for by the delighted Lady Agnes and rather disgruntled Lord Hallam. Pritchard had been surprised and rather touched by the generosity.
Violet sat on the edge on the bed and fiddled with the lacy cushions whilst Warwick unpacked, he had insisted. It was strange how caught up in each other they had been on the train and now, when there was a perfectly good bed all of their own, they both seemed to be ignoring it! She slipped of her shoes and lined them up neatly by the end of the bed by the polished metal bed post, more out of habit than anything.
Warwick cleared his throat nervously.
The time had come.
The sound of the sea filled the room and Violet let the gentle rush of the waves lapping the shore calm her. Warwick crossed the room slowly, the floorboards shifting and creaking with his soft footsteps. He sat down on the bed next to her and took her hand in both of his and placed a light kiss on it.
For a moment she stared at her hand, letting her fingers brush against his palms teasingly.
Warwick groaned quietly.
The noise made the little butterflies in her tummy dance and she felt giddy. Before it had always been her; the one to kiss, to take his arm, to tease...but now she had no idea what to do. Should she just pull her dress off and pose like those rude postcards the chauffeur had kept in the garage at her old house?
"Shall we go to bed?" His tone was light and sounded more like he was offering her a cup of tea than a night of passion. Though to be fair Violet wouldn't say no to tea at this point.
Surprisingly his hand was on her leg again.
She stared at it expectancy.
"Can...can I take your stockings off?" Pritchard cleared his throat nervously, aware of how hoarse his voice was becoming.
Slowly she leant against him and buried her head in his shoulder. "My dear, you may do what ever you wish..."
With trembling hands Warwick slide his palm down her leg to the hem of her dark blue day dress and pulled the fabric up so it bunched neatly over her thighs. Her stockings were held up by a white suspender belt. He gulped nervously and placed his hand over the lace.
The clip seemd to spring open at his touch and she lifted her leg ever so slightly to meet to warmth of his fingers.
Coming to kneel in front of her, he slide the stocking off and, in a rather rebellious way, let it fall to the floor. Violet chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss him.
Her lips brushed his forehead at first and then he stood up over her, gaining back the dominant power he had felt on the train, and kissing her full on the lips, one hand still on her exposed leg. He let his kisses trail down her neck till he reached the tightly buttoned collar of her dress, groaning into her intoxicating skin.
"You still have another stocking to do"
Her eyebrows were raised in amusement but her cheeks were flushed a lovely pink. Warwick kissed her playfully on the nose before turning his attention to the leg she was offering him. This time he boldly, teasingly, slipped his hand under the fine material of her stocking and stroked the pale skin as he pulled it off with a florish achived only through years of practice with a tablecloth.
She grinned up at him.
Shuffling back on the bed, Violet caught his tie with her free hand, pulling him with her onto the bed. "Jacket off!" He hastily pulled off his grey suit jacket and flung it to the floor. Warwick smirked back, eager to please. "Now...shirt"
He fumbled with the buttons as she pulled off his shoes, carelessly throwing them across the room, his socks followed soon afterwards. In his rush Warwick had forgotton to take off his tie, the result of which meant he wasn't able to get his shirt off, no matter how he struggled. Violet leaned over and kissed his cheek lightly "Let me do that dear"
In a flurry of exciting moments, the buttons were undone on her dress and her trousers were kicked off. It was as if they weren't themselves, they were gracful and young and it was lovely.
After most items of clothes littered to room they both stopped and stared at each other for a moment. Tension rippled between them like fire.
"Shall I turn to light off?" He knelt over her, voice deep and yet somehow shy. Violet nodded, eyes wide and horribly nervous.
The bed springs creaked as she shuffled under the covers relishing the warmth of the heavy duvet over her bare legs. Warwick leaned over her and with a light click the lamp was extinguished and only the soft moon gave the room any light.
She felt him moved clumsily back to her in the shadowy light until they were face to face, a breath apart, heads on separate pillows.
Tentatively she reached her hand out until it made contact with his bare chest. She held her cool palm against his hot skin, feeling the steady rythum of his heart. He gave a soft gasp of surprise but snuggled closer, arms coming around her more boldly in the darkness. His fingers fell on lines her lace brassiere and she couldn't help but moan a little. Almost teasingly the garment was undone, one hook at a time till she was left with only her then silk slip. The material was silky and delicate, making his fingers feel big and clumsy.
Violet pressed herself against him and buried her head in his chest "The time has come, my dear" her voice was soft and gently nudged him forward. He brazenly placed his hand on her leg, pulling her slip up and leaning over her.
It first it hurt.
But then it was nice, simple.
It was the togetherness they had always craved.
Once it was over Warwick found himself curled up but her side, head resting on her chest and arms wound protectivly round her waist. Violet lay back on the pillows, eyes half closed and let her mind wonder back to their first meeting; the innocence and the spark of affection. She was so glad she had waited round the courner of the road for him to follow her, so glad had a asked for her name, for a meeting.
She felt his fingertips caressing the bare skin of her waistline and his breath against her shoulderblade. Leaning up and little she kissed his temple and was incredibly contented when he nestled against her and returned her kiss.
The sea hushed any other jarring noise away from them tonight. It was a calming rush of water and pebbles.
And their arms were so intimatly, so sercuerly and naturally around each other that, at that moment, everything was perfect in the world.