Derbyshire, United Kingdom
February 1852

It didn't really strike Jane until after her discussion with Lorraine just how difficult it would be for her if James should share her bed. In a way, she almost thought it would have been easier if James had come and forced himself on her, but now that it was up to her, Jane felt even worse about going through with it. She couldn't claim that she had no choice to justify what, in her mind, would be betraying Harry. It was her own decision, and that haunted her conscience.

Thus, it was several days before Jane gathered enough courage to go through with really becoming James's wife. Or rather, it was her paranoia that pushed her to act. Since Lorraine's suggestion that she could be pregnant with Harry's child, Jane was plagued with the constant worry that Lorraine was right.

Part of her hoped that she was right, simply because if James were to learn that the child wasn't his, then maybe he would allow Jane to go to the father, but this hope was diminished when Jane thought about the nature of James's relationship with Harry. They were hostile at best, and so Jane knew that there were really only two outcomes if she should be carrying Harry's child. Either James would keep her as his wife and require that her child be sent away, or she would be publicly disgraced by divorce, leaving she and her child hopeless and destitute. She couldn't imagine her grandparents taking her in, nor could she expect Harry, a man of such honor and dignity, to be marred by such embarrassment. As much as she knew he loved her, Jane knew that it would be too much to ask of him. Thus, she couldn't possibly hope for a positive outcome if such scandal should befall her.

With these arguments afflicting her mind, Jane came to the terrifying conclusion that she must give herself to her husband. Though the thought of James touching her made her skin crawl, Jane spent her day mentally preparing herself for the task ahead of her. She decided that she would take Lorraine's advice and drink with James that night. After all, if there were any chance of numbing herself to reality, then Jane was eager to take it. As long as she could deceive herself and pretend Harry was the one sharing her bed, Jane had faith that she could endure whatever James should do to her.

That morning, Jane sent a servant to invite James to dine with her for the evening. James had been surprised by the request, but nonetheless consented, waving the servant off as he set out for town. He wasn't particularly concerned with why Jane was asking him to dinner, and so he decided that even if he were a bit late, there would be no harm in that. After all, his plans were far more important than her own, and it was unlikely that she would miss him even if he decided not to show up at all. Thus, James went to town so that he and his friends could drink and whore like they usually did.

Ignorant to her husband's intentions, Jane set to planning the evening, enlisting Lorraine's aid in the process. The two decided on a light meal with a splendid wine, which Lorraine assured Jane would taste far better than the whiskey James had given her two weeks earlier.

The next preparations to take place regarded Jane's appearance. Lorraine helped Jane in choosing a dress that would accentuate her assets and draw the eye while maintaining a sense of effortlessness. Jane bathed, washed her hair, and then had it styled to rest upon her head in an intricately arranged golden crown. She dressed with care, Lorraine taking the liberty to tighten the stays of Jane's corset with so much force that Jane could scarcely breathe. Jane knew the pain was necessary to aid in seducing James though, and so she did not complain.

Dinnertime arrived too soon for Jane's liking. Though she had had nearly two whole weeks to prepare herself for a sexual encounter with James, Jane still felt as if she was rushing things. James hadn't shown any interest in her since that night in London, so really, why should she bother with him? But for the hundredth time, Jane had to remind herself that fulfilling her role as his wife was necessary; doing so would secure her safety in the event of her pregnancy, and really, she had no choice, regardless of the emotional consequences that would fall upon her. Her hypothetical child's safety was on the line, and if she hoped to have any peace of mind in the coming weeks, Jane knew she could not risk allowing her fear and disgust to keep her from doing what needed to be done.

Thus, hardened by her own rationale, Jane stoically waited for James's return to Chatsworth House for dinner. He was late, which should have surprised her, but it didn't. Jane knew that James did not see her as his wife, and so she could not blame him for not respecting her as such. Nonetheless, Jane was frustrated by her husband's absence. She wanted to get that dreaded night over and done with, but she could not do it without him there. However much she hated to admit it, she needed him, and so she could not help but be a little upset by his failure to present himself to her for dinner.

After waiting nearly an hour and a half, Jane called upon Lorraine and dined instead with her. Though Jane had given up on the prospect of seeing James that night, her plans were not altogether ruined. She and Lorraine drank together, and as their glasses continued to fill, so too did Jane's spirits rise. Having never had more than a single glass of wine, Jane was beginning to lose her head after just three glasses. She and Lorraine laughed merrily together, their cheeks heated by the alcohol in their blood and their minds devoid of all stress. It was the first real fun Jane had had in a while.

For the first time since coming to Derbyshire, Jane found herself finally able to keep her mind off of both Harry and James. She and Lorraine's conversation was light and easy, and there was not a moment that passed between them during which she wished she were somewhere else. It also helped that was under the red wine's sweet, sweet influence. Discovering herself to be more and more content with every sip she took from her glass, Jane continued to drink without a care in the world.

However, the merriment would eventually end. Some time after the two women retired to the sitting room for a more comfortable place in which to spend the evening, James returned to Chatsworth House; and like his wife, he too had been generously served. James wearily trudged back into his home, the promised dinner with his wife having been long forgotten. He had intended to stay in town for the night, but he found the room he usually kept to be occupied, so he sent for a coach to take him home. The storm outside slowed his journey; thus, when James arrived there, the effects of his drinking had already begun to dwindle.

Expecting the household to be asleep when he arrived, James intended to quietly slip into his room without a word to anyone; however, upon entering through the back door, he could hear the sound of laughter and music coming from upstairs. Confused and still tipsy, James followed the sound and found his aunt lounging across a couch as Jane sat at the piano, apparently playing a poor rendition of a piece by Schubert. The sight was admittedly humorous to him, as it was clear to him that both women were drunk.

Neither of them noticed him standing in the doorway, so James stepped forward, smiling wryly at the two of them, "I see you two are having fun."

Lorraine looked up at James, her eyes rolling back in her head as she leaned her head back against the pillow of the couch, "Oh, don't start with me, boy. You were supposed to be here hours ago."

It was then that James recalled the promise he had made to Jane that morning. His face fell in shame, but nonetheless, he made his excuse without a second thought.

"The storm kept me from leaving," James lied easily, walking into the room and pouring himself a glass of wine from the bottle sitting on the coffee table. "I would have sent word, but I didn't want to make anyone ride through the rain."

"How thoughtful of you," Lorraine commented dryly, evidently not convinced by James's claim. "I'm sure Adam was appreciative."

James answered her skepticism with a shrug and a sip of his wine, his eyes falling on Jane at the piano. For reasons that James could not comprehend, his confidence from moments before fell away and was replaced with an unsettling sensation of guilt. Though she had been undoubtedly been enjoying herself prior to his arrival, it was apparent that her mood had altered dramatically. With her eyes cast down upon the floor, Jane's delicate fingers fell from the keys off the piano to rest in her lap. She lowered her head, and as she did so, James could see that her intoxication was beginning to take its toll on her. Or at least, he told himself that it was the alcohol and not his own behavior that depressed her mood so significantly.

Hesitantly, James came to stand by the piano, his eyes fixed upon his wife as he forced himself to apologize. Even if he had knowingly missed the dinner she had planned for him, he knew he owed her an apology, regardless of whether he wanted to give her one or not.

"I really am sorry," James said softly, leaning against the frame of the piano and hoping for Jane to meet his gaze. "I didn't mean to stay so long."

Not looking up to him, Jane shook her head and shut the lid over the ivory keys, "It's alright. I know you're busy."

Standing up, Jane rose from the bench and clumsily side-stepped her husband without looking at him. Though James didn't know her very well, he could still see that she was upset, regardless of what she tried to portray to him. For this, James felt the guilt already plaguing him intensify; she had tried to serve him, and what had he done in return? He had neglected her and decided that his own plans were more important.

"I'm going to bed," Jane announced quietly, standing still in the middle of the room. She swayed from side to side, her chest clenching as she tried to manage a breath. "Goodnight, Lorraine."

Lorraine nodded in her direction, "Goodnight, my dear." She looked to James after Jane left the room, knowingly encouraging him to follow his wife. "Go with her; you need to apologize."

"I did."

"Try again," Lorraine scoffed, shutting her eyes and resting her head on the pillow behind her head. "And be sincere. She was trying to reach out to you, but you didn't even bother to show up."

Huffing in frustration, James followed his wife through the hallways of their home, noticing that the further she walked, the faster she seemed to go. She was more upset that he had originally supposed, but he hadn't the slightest clue as of what to do. He had apologized once, but apparently, that hadn't been enough. Upon seeing her so set on getting away from him, he felt convicted to say more.

"Jane, wait," he called after her as she reached her bedroom door.

Her hand fumbled at the doorknob. "What?" She opened the door and stepped inside the dimly lit room, her steps uncertain and without any clear path before her. She could hardly walk in a straight line, and for that, James felt somewhat responsible. Had she gotten drunk because of him?

"Are you upset with me?"

Jane bitterly laughed at him in response as she began to work at the laces of her gown, though after several moments, it was clear that her fingers were not working as they ought to. "Damn it," she muttered to herself, ignoring James's presence there in the room with her. She wasn't concerned by what he was doing; she just wanted to take her clothes off. The corset was really restricting her breathing now, and she didn't care if James was there to see her take it off.

Maybe he'll run away when I'm naked, Jane mused, joking to herself.

Shutting the door behind him, James stepped into the room and approached his wife with the intention of helping her. Even if she wouldn't accept his apology, he would at least help her into bed; such an act was utterly harmless, and he couldn't imagine that she would get mad at him for it.

"Here, let me help you with that."

Jane looked up to her husband with curiosity in her eyes, and she was all too aware of his lingering attention upon her breasts. The dress was accomplishing exactly what she had hoped for when she had chosen it, but now that the time had arisen, she discovered herself to be somewhat uncomfortable under his gaze. Nonetheless, as she remembered what her plan had been for that evening, Jane knew that her present circumstances would do rather nicely in accomplishing her purpose.

Her mind was too rattled to think much of the anxiety she had had over this moment, and so with James in the room with her, Jane felt nothing but a sense of playful determination. She knew what she would have to do, but she also knew that she could tease him while she did it.

Thus, Jane stared into her husband's eyes for several moments, noticing something in them that didn't look nearly as frustrated or guilty as in the moments before. Jane speculated that just maybe it was lust growing in his eyes; she hoped it was. Wishing to herself that she was reading James's expression accurately, Jane then turned her back to him so that he could help her with the laces of her gown. Swaying in place, Jane tried to steady herself as James's fingers worked at the strings, but to no avail. Twice, James had to take hold of her waist and keep her from stumbling forward. His hands felt strong around her, a sensation that she hadn't expected to like. They felt like Harry's hands.

Several moments passed, after which Jane could feel the fabric of her gown loosening about her waist, and soon, though she hadn't the slightest clue that she was doing it, she came to lean against her husband's chest. Surprised, James gripped his wife's waist to steady her, supposing that she was just falling against him; however, as she tilted her head back and to the side, he could see that she was intentionally looking at him. Her clear blue eyes gleamed with innocence as she attempted a smile, though the action just made her appear even more drunk than she was.

It would have made him laugh to see her so evidently intoxicated, but he found that the laughter caught in his throat as his eyes once more fell upon her heaving breasts. Regardless of his feelings of indifference towards his wife, he could not deny that physically, she aroused him. Everything about her that night invited him in, and for a few moments, James began to wonder what she would do if he asked to join her in bed.

"What are you looking at?" Jane asked him quietly, her blurred mind acutely aware of the temptation she was laying before him. James's eyes flickered to meet her own, the darkness in them easing ever so slightly as she batted her eyelashes at him. She was going overboard with trying to flirt with him, but she knew she could blame it on the alcohol.

James shook his head and forced his eyes away from her, "Nothing... I'll leave you alone." Moving to leave the room, James tried to set his wife up to stand without his support, but it seemed that she was not wanting to comply.

"Oh, don't go," Jane laughed drunkenly as a lazy smile crossed her lips. "Have a drink with me."

"I think you've had enough."

At this, Jane experienced genuine frustration. Who was he to tell her how much she could drink? She couldn't remember a time when he was actually sober, so for him to try and tell her what to do seemed entirely hypocritical. She would let him know that another day, but not now. She needed him to stay if she was to follow through with her plan, and calling him out for his drinking was not the way to bring it about.

"Hmm..." Jane hummed. "But you haven't."

James looked at his wife in surprise as she gripped his hand and led him towards the small sofa at the end of her bed, forcing him to sit. He was too amused to protest, and so he stayed to watch what she would do. He hadn't ever considered Jane very much fun, but maybe drunk, she would show him another side to herself.

James watched as Jane clumsily walked towards the liquor cabinet at the other end of the room, the back of her dress wide open and nearly falling off of her. Chuckling to himself, he wondered what had gotten into her that she should be behaving towards him with such good spirits. As far as he knew, she detested him, but it seemed to him now as she brought over a glass of whiskey, maybe that sentiment had been somewhat fabricated in his own mind. She didn't seem to hate him all that much now; in fact, it almost seemed like she was trying to show him quite the opposite.

Giddily walking over to him and shoving the full glass into his chest, Jane turned her back on him and went towards the mirror where she began to pull at the pins in her hair. Not wanting to ruin her high spirits, James silently and confusedly sipped at his drink as Jane struggled to let her hair down. The drink burned at his chest on its way down, but it wasn't a sensation worthy of note. Having still some of the buzz from his drinking earlier that night, it would be some time before he would recognize any of what he was drinking now to have much impact on him. James had acquired quite the tolerance against the effects of alcohol, unlike Jane, who swayed thoughtlessly in front of him after a few glasses of wine. For a moment, he wished he could understand just what was going through her mind, but he quickly brushed the thought away. He didn't care.

Soon enough though, James finished his drink, and so he began to contemplate whether he wanted a another. Jane, taking notice of her husband for the first time in several minutes, quickly volunteered to remedy his empty glass. Grasping James's glass in her hand, Jane returned to the other end of the room and poured another drink. She took a large sip from it before returning to where he sat, her cheeks now even redder than before.

"I don't know how you drink that," she shuddered as the liquid burned at her throat. Despite her level of intoxication, the liquor was not something she enjoyed. "It's foul."

James shrugged, peering down at the dark liquid for several moments, "You get used to it."

Humming in acknowledgement of his words, Jane stared at her reflection in the mirror, bringing her hands up to the top of her dress and tugging it down. Her heart was racing as she undressed herself in front of him, though she took pleasure in knowing that if she were sober, she might never have had the courage that she did in that moment. In her mind, Jane easily stepped from the heavy garment, gracefully leaving it on floor without any struggle; however, as James looked up at her, he was surprised to see his wife repeatedly tripping over the fabric around her ankles. Once again, he found himself to be amused.

But then Jane turned to him wearing nothing but her undergarments. His eyes raked over her body, and to Jane's pleasure, it seemed as if he was pleased by her appearance. And he was; however, his confusion over Jane's actions kept him from fully staring at her. He didn't know why she was doing this or even what she hoped to accomplish; for that reason, James sat still, willing himself to turn his gaze from his wife. Easier to restrain himself now than later when the whiskey seized hold of his mind and actions.

But for a moment, James almost thought that maybe Jane wouldn't push him away if he were to make an advance; maybe her boldness that evening reflected a desire for him that he had missed before. Maybe she wanted him to touch her the way he wanted to touch her.

The moment the thought entered his mind, James decided that he must have been drunker than he thought. He had to have been mad to entertain such impossibilities. Jane hated him. She had made that clear enough in Newcastle when she had accused him of hitting her. As much as he had been opposed to getting married, his opposition initially hadn't had anything to do with Jane herself; however, Jane did not seem to share this same mindset. Her hesitation lie in him as a person, and she had proven that by falsely proclaiming that he had committed violence against her. The accusation had wounded him. What was it about him that Jane despised so intensely? James couldn't figure it out.

But now as Jane looked at him, James swore that the disgust in her eyes was missing. She came to sit beside him, her eyes gleaming with something he could not identify; she had never looked at him like that before. Not knowing her intentions, James turned his face away from his wife and drank deeply from the glass she had given him. She was making him nervous, though he didn't know why, and so he turned to what he knew would calm his nerves.

"How was town?" Jane asked, and immediately, James began to panic. He didn't know why he was feeling so guilty over his actions; after all, he never had before. But now with Jane's innocent eyes upon him, he could not suppress the feeling regret that had arisen in his gut.

"It was alright," James forced himself to answer her, once again with lies. "The storm hit just before I had intended to return home, so I was kept inside for longer than I would have liked."

Jane hummed airily and fell against the back of the couch, "How ever did you pass the time?" Jane giggled as she observed her husband's slightly panicked expression. Of course she knew of his infidelity, but she supposed that he was not accustomed to having his sexual exploits discussed so openly. She didn't care that he slept around; there were times that it stung her pride, but in general, she was not opposed to him leaving her alone. Except for now. Now, she needed him to want her and not some whore.

Realizing she probably shouldn't tease him, Jane propped herself up and hesitantly put her hand on his thigh. His head snapped around in her direction at the feeling of her touch; it was clear that he hadn't expected her to do that either.

"I'm sorry," Jane smiled gently. "I shouldn't have said that."

James's eyes flickered with confusion as he glanced down to where his wife was touching him, surprised beyond words. With her teasing speech, he had expected Jane to accuse him of things that he could not honestly deny; but now, he could see that it wasn't her intent to make him feel guilty. As Lorraine had said, Jane was merely reaching out to him, and now, with her hand on his leg, she had quite literally attained her goal.

But there was an ache in her expression that made James feel for her. Even if she wasn't intending to make him feel bad about what, or rather, who he had done that night, the sweet, sadness in her eyes did more to affect him than her words ever could have. Could she be jealous? No, it was worse than that. She was hurt; something inside her was afflicting her soul, and James could not help but feel partially responsible. In finding his pleasure in other women, had he hurt his wife? James had never considered such a thing to be possible, but as he looked into Jane's eyes, he conjectured that maybe it was. Maybe he owed her an apology.

Uncertain of what he planned to say, James opened his mouth to speak, but he quickly shut it again. He didn't want to admit what he was doing was wrong, so he couldn't possibly apologize for being unfaithful. He was sorry that he had hurt her, not that he had slept with someone else. Thus, James decided not to speak on the subject; he would direct it back to her and pursue his curiosity.

"What was the occasion for all the wine tonight?" James brought his glass to his lips, sipping the fiery liquid while keeping his eyes fixed on Jane sitting beside him. He thought it would be wise to know just where Jane's limits with alcohol were, that way in the case of a public event, he could keep her from embarrassing herself by drinking too much.

Drawing her hand away from James's thigh, Jane shrugged, "No occasion, just good company." James cocked his head to the side questioningly, wondering to whom she was referring. "Your aunt, I mean; she's quite diverting."

"She doesn't like me very much."

"Don't be silly. Of course she does; she just gives you a hard time."

Rolling his eyes, James tilted his head back and finished his whiskey. "She's a hard woman; that's for sure." He stood up. "And she's an impressive drinker, too. She used to match me shot for shot, but now she won't touch anything but wine."

"Wine is amazing," Jane nearly sang as she praised her new best friend, ignoring James as he set his glass down and watched her. "It makes me feel so... nice."

James chuckled, feeling the alcohol begin to pierce his bloodstream again. His head was light, and his body was beginning to feel things he hadn't realized he was reigning in. He couldn't stop staring at Jane. Even just the way she was breathing had him thinking of what he would do to her if she would let him touch her, but those thoughts scared him. He didn't want to think of her like that, because that would mean his father had won. Thus, ignoring the heat of desire igniting within him, James instead pretended to care about their discussion on wine, "How much did you have?"

"I lost count."

"You'll want to be careful about that in public."

"Oh, don't be such a bother," Jane waved him off as she stood to remove her corset. She could hardly stand the fabric prison for a moment longer, and she didn't care if her breasts weren't pushed up by it anymore. James was still staring, so she supposed that she had already captured enough of his attention; maybe in taking it off, he would be inclined to approach her.

Leaning back against the nearest post of the bed, Jane reached her hands behind her back and slowly began working at the strings to free herself from her discomfort. She kept her eyes fixed on James, who watched her with fascination, so when he came to stand in front of her, she wasn't surprised.

James, however, was surprised by his actions; he hadn't intended to walk over to her, but as he realized what Jane was doing, he couldn't help himself. The heat pulsing through his veins was becoming unignorable now, and so he supposed that maybe if he were to keep Jane from further undressing, maybe he wouldn't be so tempted by her. But it was clear to him that she wouldn't stop on her own; drunk women rarely liked to keep their clothes on, and it seemed that his wife was no exception to that rule. He had to stop her.

Jane peered up into James's eyes with a teasing curiosity, hoping that the darkness in his eyes meant what she thought it did, though admittedly, she hadn't thought much of what it would mean for her if she were right. She was blocking out that bit of reality for as long as time would allow; however, she could see that her time was dwindling.

James reached his hand out to her waist, slipping it behind her back to catch her wrists in his grasp. She stilled beneath his touch and looked up to him with wide eyes. She knew what he was doing, or at least she thought she did.

"Don't," he mumbled quietly, forcing his eyes to look anywhere but the soft, exposed flesh of Jane's chest. How had he never noticed her before? He had been so determined to hate her that he had completely ignored the parts of her that might attract him; however, now her sensual beauty seemed to be the only thing on which he could fix his attention.

"Don't," he said again, this time less convinced of the logic he had been developing in his conscience.

Why was he so fixed on keeping Jane's clothes on? James couldn't remember, nor did he want to. If Jane offered herself to him, why should he deny her? Or more importantly, why should he deny himself? Jane was his wife, and he was perfectly well within his rights to bed her. He just didn't know if he could use her the way he wanted to. There was a dignity to her that his other partners lacked, and for the first time since he was a boy, James found himself momentarily thinking of someone other than himself.

•••

Originally, this chapter was 8k words, so I had to split it up lol next chapter it's going downnnnnnnnnnnn

Thanks for reading my loves💖
-Kate💖