The Bride of Mr. Fox: Part Two (special preview)

It was over a week of waiting for Mr. Fox’s first visit. And when he did arrive, it was an inauspicious visit, to say the least. I look back on it, I see the awkwardness between all of us. Mr. Fox was put off by Mother and Heleen’s eagerness, while I’m sure my attempts to dampen their excitement made me seem unwelcoming. Mother was angry afterwards, throwing the dinner plates at our feet then making us clean the mess. We thought, once he left that door, he would never return.

Low and behold, we were blessed with another visit, this time with gifts. He brought us such beautiful things then, a bracelet for mother she wears all day long, a hat for Heleen that she strokes the ribbons to while she thinks about Mr. Fox alone. For me, I was given a small jewelry box inlaid with mother of pearl, gold dusting, and lined with silk.

“I noticed what elegant fingers you have,” Mr. Fox told me. “I thought you might have a collection of rings you wished to keep safe.”

“I have a few,” I told him. “But not many.”

I still see Heleen glare at the box from time to time. She got no compliment like I received. when she was given her hat.

From then on, Mr. Fox’s visits became much more frequent. He would stop by briefly to say hello. Sometimes he came and spent the whole afternoon with us. He says, of course, it all depends on his poor sister’s health. We were happy to have him to ourselves, as it seems he has not yet been pestered by the town with their stories about us.

I think about him often, despite not wanting to get my hopes up, but I fear I cannot help myself. He is handsome and kind, and I pray that any day now he arrives to ask for my hand in marriage. I’m certain Heleen has the same ideas, but it is my gut instinct he favors me more.

I have to stop thinking and go about my chores. Mother and Heleen are out getting a dress altered and I’ve been left alone to take care of a few simple chores, like darning some tights, as well as trying to remove blood stains from the heels and toes.

I step aside to toss the water I soaked the tights in and I see Mr. Fox is standing at the gate. I set the bucket down, quietly approaching as he turns to smile at me.

“It’s just me today,” I say.

Mr. Fox looks around, dark eyes darted from under the shadow of his hat. “May I still come inside?”

My cheeks flush and my heart races two paces faster. I nod to him, smiling shyly as I let him into our home. It’s silent between us, not a word is spoken as I lead him to the study rather than the parlor to come and sit. He pulls me into his arms and my head spins faster than a top. His arms are so big and strong, I can feel his muscle through the thick fabric of his coat. I know I should be proper and tell him to let me go, but I cannot speak such words when I have wanted this for so long. His kiss is hard and urgent, I can taste a faint trace of his breakfast upon his tongue, something rich and meaty. I grasp onto him, moaning in desperation. I need this. I want this.

The room grows hot as I lose my breath. There is no stopping at this point, no matter how improper it is. I give myself willingly, easily into the hands of this man. His red hair extends below his waist, I see, growing in dense curls that shelter the growing vine inside. I should not allow him to plant his vine inside me, but what am I to do? I am wet and ready to receive him, desperate to feel him all around me, coursing through my veins like new blood.

Mr. Fox holds me as if I am delicate, as if I am something precious. He takes his time inside me, pleasuring himself but also bringing to life feelings inside me I knew were there but buried so deep beneath neglect and denial. My God he takes my breath away. I grow fearful of what this might do to me, what he might turn me into should such a thrill continue.

I am breathless and weak when he finishes, leaving himself upon my thigh and stockings. He pulls away, admiring what he has done to me, smiling as he touches the wetness below, taking note of how ripe the flesh is.

“I don’t know what came over me, Ms. Griet,” he breathes as he rights himself. “I am so sorry. I should have been better. I should have controlled it.”

I shake my head, slowly lowering my skirts down. I would deal with the ripped stockings later, I would deal with the mess when I was alone. “It’s not your fault entirely, Mr. Fox,” I say as I catch my breath. “I could have dissuaded you as well.”

Mr. Fox smirks, kissing my cheek then smoothing back my hair. “Then you’ll let me do it again, Ms. Griet?”

My body flutters, making me swoon and nearly fall faceforward. “Again and again, if you so desire. But it will be hard to hide it from my sister and my mother.”