Sotto Voce, part 1

Sotto Voce

1853

There was no sun, no sky beyond heavy grey clouds casting further gloom on an already dismal occasion. It was a day made for funerals.

Alana stood outside the cemetery’s stone wall, as still and silent as a marble effigy. She would not enter the burial grounds but could see it full and plain enough from there. Far across its rugged face of stones and crosses she could see the hearse with oval windows of beveled glass on the sides. The horses bowed their black plumed heads and pawed the ground from time to time, as anxious to leave this place of death as were the mourners clustered around a newly dug grave. The bearers were just pulling a black lacquered casket from the back; they would all have to wait for now.

She leaned closer to the wall, setting fingertips on the cold slate laid along the top. The stones held the chill of autumn, obvious at first touch, yet spoke volumes more to those who would listen. They whispered with the sobs and prayers heard through generations of tragedy and despair, shouted with defiance and even laughed at the foolishness of mortals--- or with joy to be free of such a world. These simple stones knew existence before time, before man, and yet were cut and piled at man’s whim to build this boundary, or were carved to memorialize the places where earthly remains would turn again to clay. Mankind would leave this world and their works would crumble in time, but the stones would outlast all.

For now she ignored those murmured secrets, listening instead for voices drifting on the breeze from the huddled dark company of bereaved. They were a grim lot, some sniffling, others whispering comforts. She did not strain to hear, well aware of what would be said—of what was always said on these occasions. The minister would soon be extolling the virtues of the deceased, and doubtless managing to add some message concerning faith and the fear of God.

She could hear the tall grass rustling behind her, marking the arrival of her brother Theo.

“Alana.” She acknowledged his greeting with a wordless nod, never looking away from the graveside tableau. “What are you doing?”

She tipped her head to direct his gaze toward the scene, and he slid dark glasses down an aquiline nose to peek over the rim and follow her lead. Alana took that moment to steal a glance up in his direction with a hint of a smile. She never tired of that noble profile, only surpassed in her opinion by a more direct view. Once he had studied the distant gathering, Theo pushed his spectacles back into place.

“They’re burying Rufus today.” With a sigh she bent forward to rest her arms over the cool slate.

“And the others?”

“Still missing.”

“You won’t go in?” Theo stroked her back fondly as she shook her head. “He was your friend.”

“Once. And yours as well.” she reminded. “But it didn’t end well, did it? We’re supposed to be miles away. Our sudden return would be hard to explain.”

He pouted as the notion saddened him, and turned from the sad sight to lean his back against the wall.

“Even friends quarrel from time to time.”

Theo was being generous; the friendship—such as it had been--- had soured beyond repair, and had come to a rather nasty end. Still, he would harbor a fond memory or two of their stay with the Eckley family. He preferred to think himself above sentimental attachments by now, though privately resigned to the contrary.

Rufus Allerton Eckley had been charming at first meeting, more than pleasant in appearance, slender and elegant, with particularly fine features, golden hair and green eyes. Alana had been commissioned to paint his portrait as a wedding gift, and was happy to find so attractive a subject. As was normally their experience, she and her brother had been most cordially received by the Eckleys.

Well educated and conversant, the young man seemed to enjoy their companionship from the start. However, this favorite son gradually began to show another side to the visitors of which his family was unaware. Perhaps his original intent had been to shock the pair, or test their constraints. Rufus soon proved somewhat more decadent than the average young man of privilege—quite a feat, in Theo’s opinion.

Young Eckley often gambled to excess, not only with a generous family fortune but with other more dangerous stakes, not excluding life itself. He was apparently not too particular whose life it was, as it turned out. Theo had mused that he might have sought friends of better character, but Alana was certain that Rufus Eckley would still be as irresponsible and cruel left to his own devices. If he had not interfered with the private lives of others, his funeral would not now be taking place. In the very least, his untimely loss would spare family and innocent bride from a great deal of misery in the future.

Eyes shielded behind dark lenses, Theo wrinkled his nose as he studied the cover of clouds. He disliked being abroad even on the darkest of days, but finally dismissed it with a smirk and shake of his head. Alana had no such fears and a mind of her own. She would have come to this unhappy place alone, had he made objection
.
“This is not a luxury we can afford.” He offered this gentle caution as if his sister would ever take heed. “We shouldn’t even be here.”

“I know.” she whispered. “Tomorrow we shall be well away, all things forgotten. But he did make a pretty picture.”

“No. You made the pretty picture. Rufus will never be so beautiful again, so admirable, so respectable as his portrait shows him. It is a wonderful piece, one of which you should be especially proud. You painted him better than he deserved, I think-- and so alive.”

It was true; Alana’s work came highly prized and with good reason. It had brought them a comfortable income and a fine reputation that guaranteed them acceptance in the wealthiest homes.

“Surely the family will find some comfort in so vibrant a likeness, to defy the corruption of time.”

His assessment made her smile; her talent had gained the praise of many admirers, but none meant more than her brother’s words. Observers were as a rule captivated by that certain strange ‘something’ which separated her paintings from all others. Her portraits were certainly life-like, but even more than that, they seemed to live.

Patrons often begged to know her secret. She would smile and claim it was all due to the preliminary sketch done on canvas, using coffee or tea. She would explain that such a natural undercoat added warmth and life to the finished piece. Though armed with this information, other artists still failed to duplicate the effect. She couldn’t be expected to tell them the truth—that the dark reds and deep browns of the initial study came from a clean brush moistened with her tongue.

The preacher was speaking now, hardly audible at such a distance though Alana could have heard it if she had cared. The mourners stood close, bolstering each other and sobbing into handkerchiefs. The deceased’s aged father stood tall and stoic with a weeping female clinging to him for strength. Miss Toliver, the unfortunate bride-to-be, stood pale and trembling in yards of crepe, dazed and too exhausted to weep further. Alana suspected the girl would swoon before long. Except for a young boy, no one looked away from the solemn company.

The child’s gaze wandered among the stones and for a moment fell upon a tall, slender man and a woman in fashionable dress standing beyond the graveyard wall some distance off. A nudge from an older sibling gained the boy’s attention and he forgot the presence of these strangers to bow his head in a show of respect.

It seemed to Theo that his sister had grown maudlin and as usual with these moods it would not improve until something else caught her attention. He had no diversion to offer at the moment and gazed idly in her direction, having learned to be patient.

He noticed the loosened tendrils of hair that fluttered lazily about her head on the breeze; a gentle shade of auburn not as deep as his own. He took time to assess the smart cut of her dress, how blue always brought out the color of her eyes, and how the fashion hugged the contours of shoulders, waist, hips….

He soon forgot her mood, finding her current position a pleasant distraction, bent forward over the wall as she was. The curve of her bottom—even beneath all that fabric--- caused him to smile with remembered pleasures. The memory tickled him in places low and deep, in those secret, dark places only she could touch. He had felt anxious about being out in the day, but this sensation was quickly lost to another.

He stepped away from the wall suddenly to stand behind her. Alana was immediately aware of her skirts being drawn up, and she shivered as a familiar hand gently stroked the length of her thigh. Her objection was clearly not in earnest.

“Theo, no.”

“Alana, yes.”

He was obviously in a playful mood despite such morose surroundings. Skirts and petticoats were already rumpled up to her waist, and she smiled to hear her companion moan with approval. The sight of dark silk stockings, ascending to soft, pale flesh was more than intoxicating. His hands moved quickly to caress the round perfection of naked buttocks.

“Now this is a pretty picture.” he purred.

A boot knocked between her shoes, indicating the need for these to be further apart. The lady obliged without hesitation, increasing her paramour’s delight in so captivating a sight. It begged a taste and Alana shuddered as her lover’s tongue quickly sampled the hills and valley to further whet their mutual appetite.

Tender love play was best left for another time; a rough coupling in a public place was simply too delicious an urge to ignore. With one hand to unlimber his piece, the other to tease his lover, Theo was devoted to his goal. Alana moaned as fingers toyed with the moist cleft he so desired and she slid herself back to encourage this union. Fingers suddenly withdrew and just as quickly were replaced with stronger stuff as he drove into her, full and hard. She gasped aloud with delighted surprise, her hands gripping the wall for an anchor.

His lunges were long and steady, pulling her onto each thrust by a firm hold on her waist until forced to cover her mouth for fear she would draw unwanted notice.

“You’ll wake the dead!”

Bent over the wall she had invited his attention, but that had been mere prologue. He pulled her free of the stones, and set her down on hands and knees before him in the grass. He had hardly missed a stroke and quickly renewed his pace. His hands tugged at the neck of her bodice until plump breasts were freed of that silken prison. Their sway on each motion, and feel of pert nipples on sweet rosettes fed his ardor. He could not resist a pinch to those tender points, to make her buck and squeal in that moment of exquisite pain. She slipped down to her elbows, pleasured sounds escaping on every breath.

To master another’s body—his beloved Alana’s body-- drove him harder. Each sound, every movement, all pleasure or pain was of his making and he thrived on it. Alana gladly surrendered to his whim, trusting his control to carry them to greater heights together. She slipped further to the ground with his growing passion, and he supported himself on stiffened arms above her. Their shared passion brought them both quickly to release.

Theo cried out in his last throes, no longer in control. The mourners were jarred by the howl of something wounded, and birds took sudden flight when the cry broke the stillness. It was abrupt, unnatural, but a single shock that quickly passed. Somewhere unseen, ages and miles removed, something deep within the earth had stirred.
As he coursed hot within her, Theo bit his lover’s shoulder with force and collapsed hard atop her. She might have screamed--- he couldn’t tell, couldn’t hear anything beyond the pulse thundering in his ears.

Such blessed death! All sense drained from him, all power to move or speak or even think was gone, though his body twitched in final spasms. There was no word that could describe the sensation except as sacrament. His eyes rolled back, his bite released and for the smallest of moments he thought he had glimpsed a flash of light—perhaps God in His heaven?

Alana tried to catch her breath, her body still throbbing with the shudders of pleasure that her brother’s attentions always brought. Even now, when pressed by his weight in the grass, she wondered how they ever managed to get out of bed or disengage long enough to commune with the rest of the world. They belonged together, intimately and always-- the beast with two backs that her brother had playfully labeled ‘Theolana’.

She became aware of a pain in her shoulder and the little rivulets of blood trickling down her back and side. Such were the perils of their passion and not unlike the marks she had often given him. She adored his enthusiasm, his desire and vigor as much as she adored the man himself and she knew above all else he returned that affection in full.

As she drifted back to the present moment, she felt Theo’s weight more acutely. His face was beside her own, his breath rasping lightly as if asleep. Spectacles lay in the grass, and with their clothing dangerously askew and bodies sprawled motionless, she thought they could be mistaken as victims of some terrible crime.

The idea caused her to giggle, rousing Theo from his stupor.

“What? What is it?” He raised his head in alarm as if stirred abruptly from slumber and then pushed himself up on stiffened arms. Distress turned quickly to amusement. “Are you laughing?”

She nodded and he grinned at her beneath unruly locks of hair. Glasses were hurriedly retrieved the moment they were missed, but Theo then returned attention to Alana and the wound he so recently caused.

“My sweet, did I hurt you?”

“Did you want to?”

He rolled to the side and responded with a playful slap to her backside. She yelped in surprise but he was quick to sooth the affront with a kiss and gentle strokes. He turned then to kiss her shoulder and tenderly lick away the blood.

“It will be gone by tomorrow.” Assurance was unnecessary, but she knew her brother well enough to sense his remorse.

It was not the first time nor would it be the last that their love-making resulted in injury. These were painful in the moment, accepted and immediately forgiven and healed without a trace very quickly. In all their years together, they had never grown so callous as to disregard the slightest bite or scratch though Theo in particular never failed to make a fuss with profuse apologies.

He kissed the wound again and curled up beside her, as if they were children once more, at home in their own bed. He sighed with contentment and smoothed back her hair to kiss her face.

“Do you recall those afternoons in the sun?”

“Of course I do. Do you take me for a heathen?” She looked at him through eyes half dreaming, the smell of damp earth flooding her senses and memory. “Soft grass, the scent of spring blossoms, the warm sun on our skin. You, as stunning in the light as some god from Olympus. The joy of your embrace. Thistle and Trooper patiently waiting for hours.”

Her brother suddenly sputtered a laugh on hearing their horses named in the retelling. Her gaze turned sharp and cold with this interruption, and he covered his mouth in regret.Fighting the urge to laugh further, Theo quickly repented.

“I beg your pardon. Do continue.”

Lazily, she smiled and rolled onto her side to face him. She brushed away his mussed hair and removed his spectacles in order to see those lovely blue eyes. There was no beauty to compare with the light of that gaze. As she gently pet his cheek, his lids fluttered closed with delight.

Neither had aged since the innocent sunlit days when they had first explored their love. Later discovered by those with no understanding, that deep affection would be labeled unnatural and a mortal sin. How had their accusers lived so long without a heart? Their family, the priests and all the rest had long since gone to their graves. There was no one left to condemn or curse them for what mortal beings could never comprehend. They were as one soul, in two bodies; two hearts born to one life.

Feeling suddenly modest, Alana flicked her rumpled skirts back into place to cover herself. Theo sensed her intention, and quickly moved to prevent it.

“No, no, no.” he teased. “Let the angels envy us a little longer.”