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| Returning the Rose Bed; Rosie Radcliffe | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 31 2011, 05:47 PM (173 Views) | |
| Robert Radcliffe | Dec 31 2011, 05:47 PM Post #1 |
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10th Baron FitzWalter
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Mid-February, 1513 Strange it was, to think that several months ago, the Baron and Baroness FizWalter could hardly stand the sight of one another, let alone tolerate the other’s company in a room together. It had only been as a result of Rose’s monthly plague had they been forced into such a situation, and the close proximity of this very same chamber. Although this time, they did not sit side by side because it had been forced upon them, for this time it had been out of pure choice and preference. One arm around the form of his wife, Robert lay beside her in the bed they had shared these past few days as they existed in the peace that was Radcliffe Manor. Although the peace had briefly been interrupted by his niece’s unexpected visit, all it seemed had returned to normal. Elizabeth Walden respected the space that Rose so badly craved, and left the pair of them to their own devices, whatever those devices might be. Today, it was reading. From the moment they had formed the original bond in September, the reading aloud of books had played a crucial role in the nature of their marriage. A certain book, especially, held a place dear in Robert’s heart, for it had been the one that had assisted in bridging the once impossibly wide gap between himself and the woman he adored so completely. It was that book that he held in his grasp on this day, and read it’s script aloud softly to Rose, pressing an occasional kiss to her temple. “ In short,” he read, “no association or alliance can be happy or stable without me. People can't long tolerate a ruler, nor can a master his servant, a maid her mistress, a teacher his pupil, a friend his friend nor a wife her husband, a… Hm.” Lowering the book, Robert propped himself up on the pillow, and examined the text for a second time. A wife her husband. Those had been the words. Looking back to Rose’s from he smiled. “Now you may correct me if I am wrong, but I daresay I disagree with that sentiment. You are quite satisfied with me and my presence, are you not?” The Baron FitzWalter thought so. If Rose were not at all content, then she would not have accepted the union he had offered her, and surely not have allowed her guardian to accept it for her. Even if she had allowed it, it seemed more than unlikely she would accompany him so willingly to Radcliffe Manor, and back to court when the time came. No, the pair of them shared something that Erasmus perhaps had not been aware of when he penned this work, and perhaps, if they dared to expand the list of those who did not understand what it was this union between them entailed, the whole of England did not understand it either. Settling back down, Robert’s gaze passed itself over the text, which no longer held an appeal. Entangling a hand deep within Rose’s curls of chestnut, he sighed contently, before he found an idea slowly creeping into his thoughts. “Rose,” he said, suddenly, “would you fancy perhaps going for a walk about the grounds? The day looks rather pleasant, I think.” Setting his feet on the floor, the Baron moved to stand alongside the bed, holding a hand out to his wife. “What do you say?” |
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[align=center]Robert is a grand total of 3 thread(s). And could have 1 more.[/align] [align=center]Bobby Rad, Baron FitzWhat[/align] | |
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| Rose Radcliffe | Dec 31 2011, 09:42 PM Post #2 |
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Baroness Hastings, Baroness FitzWalter
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It was already a beautiful morning; with the sun shedding rays of light through their chamber window, the snow already melting on the blades of grass, and a breeze shifting a promise of warmth. The last Rose had lain in this bed; she had been bothered by the heat of a summer, had burdened turmoil over boiling feelings of distrust and intolerance, had smiled faintly in memory of a good day, and had learned a great deal. Now, it seemed, with her head leaning on Robert’s shoulder, and his arm tightly wound around hers, the order of her life had finally come to be in place. The Baron FitzWalter’s voice was something of great ability. In times of anger, it could bring her to tears. In times of passion, it could ignite a spark deep within her. In times of fear, it could reassure her. And in times of serenity, it could compel her to a sleep; even if her mind wanted no more than to race around her endless chain of theories. But as they lay in their bed, the early hour of morning hinting around her husband’s voice, Rose was unsure whether or not she wanted to interrupt this moment; nor’ was there reason to, or cause. Elizabeth Walden had not proved to be without a sense of knowledge, and knew when the Baroness was in need of a wide berth. Which, she supposed, was quite common. Rose would always be grateful for those whom could understand her peculiarities. “… correct me if I am wrong …” The Lady Hastings’ mind wandered to a gentle pain in her back, brows furrowing in concern, Rose was quick to deduct that it was simply because they had been lying for too long. Listening to his statement, a light laughter passed her lips and left a grin upon then that reached her emerald irises. “Perhaps I am, perhaps I am not. Or maybe I am neither.” The Baroness laughed again, placing a quick kiss to Robert’s jaw. She watched him with a wide gaze as he held her hair and compelled her attention; already he was tempting her with the events of a day. Rose’s grin did nothing to fade as he stepped from their bed and held out his hand, “What do you say?” Her answer was a thing that required very little thought, as the Baroness could not stay within closed doors for longer than a half day- even if she had any choice in the matter. Maneuvering slowly to place her feet on the floor, Rose reached out a hand to take his own before the Lady FitzWalter exclaimed sharply and fell to the floor; scathing her knees against the rough surface. Expression pulled into a light grimace; Rose groaned and clutched at her lower abdomen. It felt as if something was violently gripping the organs that dwelled inside of her. Dark curls falling across her face, and her brow already forming a light sheen of sweat, the Baroness cringed at her effort to move from the floor. It was another month’s end. |
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| Robert Radcliffe | Jan 1 2012, 02:59 AM Post #3 |
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10th Baron FitzWalter
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In the months following his first meeting with Rose – September standing out most prominently among them – Robert realized that had become rather adept in reading her various facial expressions and emotions. Those eyes, especially, aided him in doing so, for when the Baron FitzWalter looked down into them, each and every layer of her heart became visible. However, today, as they lay side by side, the words of Erasmus enveloping them as if a blanket, the frown that fleetingly passed over his wife’s features as he spoke was not something the Baron had noticed. Instead, he continued on with his words and the suggestion of a walk, relishing in the closeness of their bodies. It was always a thing of amazement to him, that they could lay like this together so comfortably. It was like they were pieces of a human puzzle; made for each other. Before Rose, in the days of his marriage to Elizabeth, Robert would have doubted such a thing would ever be in existence for him. Even when Rose had stepped into his life, originally, he had cast her off as just another nuisance, and a thing irrelevant. Yet somehow, that had all changed, and for that the Baron FitzWalter was glad. “Perhaps I am, perhaps I am not. Or maybe I am neither.” With Rose’s lips grazing gently against his jaw, Robert chuckled softly. “Can you be straightforward for once and tell me your thoughts, or must you always speak in riddles?” Pressing another kiss to her temple, he shook his head. “No matter, we needn’t worry about Erasmus or his theories as we walk. Come on, then.” He watched Rose then as she maneuvered herself so that her feet rest gently on the floor, a hand reaching out to take his and then...she was crumbled on the floor. Immediately Robert dropped to his knees beside her, a hand moving in small circles across her back. “Rose! Rose, what’s the matter? Are you alright? Good Lord, you fell so suddenly I…” What on earth was he to do?! There was no way in hell Rose could have fallen ill so quickly! Mere minutes ago they had been laughing and poking fun at one another, and the very next Rose lay doubled over, clutching her abdomen and moaning softly. Good Lord, what was he to do? “Rose,” he said, finally, in a rather poor attempt to mask the fear that had so suddenly overtaken him. “Rose, my love, I’m going to life you onto the bed, and then...well, then I suppose I...fuck!” He exclaimed softly, moving to support her near dead weight, resting her once more onto the mattress. “I think it best if I were to call your maids, Rose. They have know you far longer than I have, and if I know you as well as I think that I do, surely you have shared with them some of your insight when it comes to healing.” Brushing the hair back from her forehead, Robert sighed, “At least, I pray you have, for I fear I know not what else to do with you.” Moving quickly to the door, Robert called out to Jane, praying that she would hear him, and was not occupied elsewhere. Pacing back and forth at the foot of Rose's bed, relief spread over the Baron's face as the maid entered, face grim. "What is it then?" Robert asked, voice strained. "Is she alright?" Jane moved to stand at her mistress' bedside, examining her patient, before turning back toward the Baron, painted on her face a sad smile. "Oh yes, she'll be quite alright, my lord, although I'm afraid your wife suffers so much more than most women go when it comes to the time of her bleeding." Bleeding? Oh good God! Not this again! A bright flush rose to Robert's cheeks as he threw his hands up in the air in frustration. Could he truly have been so naive as to think this was anything more complex than what had overcome Rose all those months ago in the very same chamber? Had he not thought her to be dying then as well, immune system ridden with that of the plague? Turning toward the door, the Baron cleared his throat. "I...I suppose there is nothing more for me to do here. This...well, this isn't anything a man should be privy to, and Rose, well, surely you would be much more comfortable with your maid instead of I as it is, am I correct?" |
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[align=center]Robert is a grand total of 3 thread(s). And could have 1 more.[/align] [align=center]Bobby Rad, Baron FitzWhat[/align] | |
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| Rose Radcliffe | Jan 2 2012, 02:16 AM Post #4 |
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Baroness Hastings, Baroness FitzWalter
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Head reeling, Rose’s brows turned in an acute frown. Tightening her jaw and clenching her eyes shut, the Baroness did the best she could to recall procedure. Some months were more brutal than others, and it seemed now, as waves of nausea tempted the exit of what was left in her stomach, that it was to be a difficult week. The Lady Hastings could only decipher a few words that were emitted from her husband’s lips through the haze of a woman’s moans. Her own. It wasn’t common for her to fall in front of others, and to make about a scene for her pain; Rose detested knowing what it was that others might think of her. Did not they suffer to the same length as she? Perhaps her tolerance of it was merely weakened … and thereby, she was proven weak. Flinching as Robert picked her up, tears glazing over her emerald irises, Rose pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face into the pillow she had been resting against moments earlier. It was not a peculiar event; for the Baroness to be perfectly fine one moment, and then a few seconds later, writhing in excruciating pain. There were some times before that Rose recalled being easier weeks, where her cramps –although not gone- were not as sharp. The Lady Hastings’ moans had softened then, as she managed to maintain a position where her lower abdomen was not at its worst. Then, finally, Rose could hear the conversation around her. Though the Baroness could not see, for she lay turned over, the faint discussion between two familiar voices called for recognition. "Is she alright?" “ … she'll be quite-” Rose groaned again, deafening herself from the rest of Jane’s explanation. It was evident that she was the theme of exchange, and the Baroness had already begun to regret reacting to her pain the way she had. Perhaps she had startled Robert, and the poor man wouldn’t have had a clue as to- Cringing again as an intense wave coursed throughout her abdomen and compelled a nauseating sensation, Rose’s process of that was disrupted, and she was left once more to dwell in her own pity. “ … surely you would be much more comfortable with your maid instead of I as it … The Lady Hastings concentrated on her husband’s words, struggling to decipher their meaning. He was- he was leaving? The Baroness was perturbed by the emotion that provided incentive to the allotted strength that required her to turn over, outstretch her hand, and exclaim a few words. In a matter of contemplation; it was panic. “No!” Rose didn’t recognize the voice that left her mouth; rough and desperate, as if a plea. Already her disapproval wreaked into the room. “Please don’t- don’t leave.” Her earthen gaze stared at him widely, conveying whatever it was she felt toward him. Surely he could see it. Surely he could recognize it. For it was as if those five months had never occurred, and the same need remained. Inhaling deeply, as if to prepare herself for the ability to speak, Rose continued, “Robert- can you please- can you fetch my box … with the …” Stopping momentarily to place a palm on her brow and suppress the need to be sick, the Baroness knew what instructions she needed to give. Another deep breath, then, “My box of herbs. I’m going to need you to make something for me. Jane? Fetch me a basin, please. Thank you.” Rose watched as her maid left, wryly watching for her husband to do as she told. Though, if he was reluctant, it would not be a first. |
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| Robert Radcliffe | Jan 4 2012, 10:23 PM Post #5 |
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10th Baron FitzWalter
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Robert had been terrified. Ordinarily, when a man was presented with a situation in which his wife was struck down by some sort of illness, he could care very little, for in the eyes of most of the male race, a woman and a wife was nothing more than a deposit for his seed; a vessel to carry his heirs. Robert however, was well aware he was different than most. Although once, he too had had a wife, and treated her much the same. When she had passed on, he had mourned, yes, but in no way to the same degree he would should Rose ever lose her life. Even now, as she lay, crumpled on the bed, moaning and softly cursing the world around her, Robert’s brows remained deeply furrowed as he paced, severely concerned for her life, and the severity of what ailed her. The plague fleetingly presented itself as a possible contender, but was quickly ruled out for surely she would have shown symptoms far earlier than this, and certainly would not have fallen ill so quickly. No, it was not the plague. For a few moments at least, the Baron FitzWalter was left in the dark on the matter, and it was not until Jane had entered had any light been shed on it. “...during the time of her bleeding.” Of course. Why such a thing had not been one of the options he had considered, Robert did not know, except for the fact, perhaps, it was a topic he abhorred. The very same ailment had overtaken Rose the first week she lodged at Radcliffe Manor, and he had considered the plague then as well. However, that week in September, Robert knew that he would not have minded Rose’s death so much. It would have ridden him of a rather spiteful enemy, and the manor would have taken on, once again, the sense of peacefulness it had held before her arrival. That however, had all changed. Rose was his wife, and losing her was quite easily the worst thing that the Baron could conjure to mind. Without her in his life, surely he would stray to the wayward side of things, and lose nearly all sanity, and yet, he had found himself moving toward the door, casting her off as though she were nothing, and deserved nothing more than to suffer along. It were as though the past five months had never occurred. “No!” No? No? Had he heard correctly? Turning back, Robert’s gaze settled on the form of his wife. Prior to how she had been several seconds ago, face buried in the mountain of pillows the mattress housed, Rose had turned over on her back, a single hand reaching outwards to him, those green eyes pleading him, begging him to stay. Mask of frustration breaking, Robert realized that perhaps…no, there was no doubt in the matter. He had been heartless and cruel in suggesting that Rose be left alone here when she was in such a degree of pain. As her husband, he had sworn to stay by her, in sickness and in health, and it was high time he honoured the former in that scared oath. “No,” he whispered, moving back toward the bed, grasping her hand between the two of his own. “No, you’re right, Rose. As your husband, I should be far more considerate of your feelings. If I sat by your side when we felt such feelings of apathy toward one another, there is absolutely no reason why I cannot do the same, this time as your husband.” Taking to the very same chair he had occupied that first day, Robert continued to hold her hand firmly in his, moving his thumb in gentle circles across her palm. “Robert,” Attention immediately commanded, Robert’s eyes flicked back to Rose’s face. “Yes, Rose?” Her box? Fetch her herb box? What the hell did she require her box for? She was in no way fit to create some sort of concoction. Perhaps though, he supposed, as he had considered earlier, Jane had been educated by Rose in the art of healing, and the items in the box were intended for her. But no. If only for a moment, Robert had been hopeful that that would have been the case, but in her very breath, Rose had stated that she wished for he to make her something. Dropping her hand and rising immediately from his station, FitzWalter shook his head. “Oh no. No, Rose, I cannot. I’m not...I’m no physician! Never in my life have I even considered healing as a thing I would be good at, or even...even mediocre. Have you not taught Jane anything of healing? Surely she would be better than I…” No. No, he was being heartless once more. Rose was in a great deal of pain. The very least he himself could do was provide her with something of a relief, if this draught would bring even that. Sighing heavily, Robert passed a hand over his face, and moved to pick up the box from where it rest on Rose’s dresser. “What must I do?” |
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[align=center]Robert is a grand total of 3 thread(s). And could have 1 more.[/align] [align=center]Bobby Rad, Baron FitzWhat[/align] | |
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| Isabel Leigh | Feb 13 2012, 10:22 AM Post #6 |
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Virtue alone is invincible.
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This thread has been archived either due to forwarding of board timeline or because of a month of inactivity. If you would like to continue, please PM an Admin! |
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[align=center]Mistress Leigh Isabel is in 8 threads and can has more! App | Plot[/align] | |
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10:58 AM Jul 11