Schemes vs. Seduction

Chapter Eight: A Little Retrospection is a Good Thing

Bleach; Ichihime AU Regency England

Word Count: 2976

Warning: none

Disclaimer: all characters herein are the property of Kubo Tite.

*Amazing fanart for this project was created by the wonderfully talented Child of the Ashes

child-of-the-ashes. deviantart art/ FLOL-Fanwork-Challenge-Rework-298798101 (remove the spaces)

~o0o~

The satiny brocade curtain creased under her restless fingers. Orihime pushed the material aside and peeked outside, before she dropped her hand and turned away. The drape fell back into place, hiding the bleak countryside and worsening weather from her view.

It was starting to get a little maddening.

Sighing, she wrapped her arms around her waist in a comforting gesture as she wandered the perimeter of the room, traveling a well-worn path. In the week since she made the move from Town, it had done nothing but rain. It was as if the heavens were mocking her valiant attempts to stay cheerful and optimistic as she continued to plan for her future.

The muted sound of tinkling glass from the front hall gave her pause and she glanced towards the room's double doors. A tinge of guilt speared through her. The servants were still hard at work setting the house to rights after her sudden arrival.

The house sat practically empty, with only an aging caretaker and his wife residing at the lodge, since her brother died. It wasn't a large house by any means, but still an enormous amount of work for her small loyal band of servants. Orihime offered her assistance with the cleaning and repairs several times, but they wouldn't hear of letting her dirty her hands.

Pish-tosh.

Her bottom lip curled down in a frustrated pout. The mindless activity, and the company of her servants –many she'd known since childhood, would be beneficial to her tortured mental state. However, they refused her help on a daily basis.

The damp weather effectively kept her trapped inside. Therefore, she sat alone in her room. When staring at the same four walls drove her downstairs, Orihime sat in the front parlor. Endeavoring to stay busy and out of the way, she read -a lot, worked on her embroidery, even if all she accomplished was untangling skeins of thread, and counted the flower patterns on the papered wall. She tried to keep her mind engaged, but as much as she hated to admit it, she missed her friends, the bustle of town life, her work …and Ichigo.

Orihime blew out a frustrated breath and pressed her fingertips to her forehead, trying to force away those gloomy thoughts before they took root. Her banishment to the country was her choice; it was no more than what she deserved after blatantly thumbing her nose at society's rules.

Her choice or not, it didn't alter the fact that she missed him though.

Soft flickering light played over her long skirts as she passed by the fire laid out in fireplace. Her eyes dropped to watch the hypnotically dancing flames for a moment. Her lips parted with a soft sigh as she found herself drifting into one of her daydreams, escaping her reality. Thin tendrils of heat spread out as she remembered the possessive weight of his hand, the warmth of his breath rushing against her skin, the burning intensity in his amber gaze while his muscled body moved over hers.

Turning away from the fire and her overheated thoughts with a huff, Orihime admitted that was yet another reason why relocating to the country had been a good idea. Temptation –in the form of a muscled man with soulful chocolate eyes, golden tanned skin, and an overprotective mind-set, was removed from her path. If she had stayed in Town, and weathered the scandal with her head held high, there was a good chance her resolve would've weakened to the point of agreeing with his autocratic demands. Although, on the other hand, she just might have sought out Ichigo herself and seduced him this time instead.

That beastly man. His memory still riled her –in many ways.

The hands she had fisted at her side slowly relaxed. Her resentment towards him had lessened in the last week –she was still angry, but each day, the anger turned more in her direction instead of his. Why hadn't she been honest with Ichigo when she had the chance?

Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn. Orihime tapped her foot in accompaniment of each muttered word.

Well known for being dense, the subtle clues she dropped were beyond Ichigo's ability to decipher. She should have told him clearly what her true feelings were. There had been plenty of opportunities for her to do so.

But she hadn't, and Orihime had no one to blame but herself –Ichigo wasn't a mind reader, after all.

What happened that night at Carrick House, and the afternoon in her sitting room, was as much her doing as it was his. It was wrong of her to continue to think badly of him for what happened. Orihime always believed herself to be responsible for her choices. She held firm with her decision not to be a burden on Ichigo when they were 18. Then, a few years later, they argued over her living alone, she stood her ground. Even now, she gamely wore the mantle of a pariah instead of letting the dictates of society force them into marriage.

Orihime stopped her aimless perambulation in front of a pastel landscape hanging on the wall. Her brother, Sora, painted it years ago as an outlet while working -tirelessly and alone, to rebuild their family's depleted coffers. She focused on the solitary tree her brother painted in the distance and acknowledged that while she had no regrets with holding firm to her beliefs, she was lonely though.

What she told Rukia was true. She believed it was better to be lonely, or even marry a man she did not love, than to wed Ichigo and face the inevitable heartbreak once their forced union fell apart. The only marriage she would accept between them would be one of mutual love. She wanted to shower Ichigo with all the love she kept hidden over the years –more than five lifetimes worth. However, she also selfishly wanted to be loved by him in return. That hadn't been too much to ask for, right?

Right or wrong, she accepted that her dream would no longer come true. Here in the country, without the solace of her friends or the distraction of her work, she dwelled on the cherished memories of the time Ichigo and she spent together. It would have to be enough.

Who did she think she was kidding?

Even now, her eyes continued to stray to the curtained windows, hoping to see his carriage come up the lane. She missed hearing his voice, his teasing long-suffering groans, his brooding scowl, and even some of his over-protective tendencies. However, that wasn't all she missed. He awoke her slumbering innocent body and she craved his touch once more. A mere memory of all they shared wasn't enough to sustain her. It was foolish to think otherwise.

But that's what she was, foolish.

"Although, hysterical might be a better word to describe my behavior than foolish." Orihime murmured to herself as she turned her thoughts inward, remembering when her world fell apart.

Being with him had been all she ever dreamed it would be. His lovemaking was gentle, tender, worshipful, and it felt as if he reached inside her chest and claimed her soul. After such an experience, it had been the wrong time for them to have such a serious conversation or any conversation at all. She was overwhelmed with unknown emotion. Her secret yearnings were bubbling too close to the surface, restless to break free. Then, Ichigo's pronouncement that they were getting married left her panicked and not thinking clearly about the words leaving her mouth. She never meant for things to end the way they did.

Hysterical was the only way to describe her prior behavior. Orihime admitted it without flinching from the truth.

Lost in melancholy thoughts, she nearly jumped out of her skin in fright when lightning struck close by. Underneath the sharp crack of lightning and the close following boom of thunder, Orihime thought she heard something else.

She returned to her lookout from before with an eager bounce in her steps. Breathless with anticipation, Orihime peeled back the curtain to peer through the grey sheets of rain. Her wide brown eyes scanned the slope of the lawn and the curving drive that cut through the trees with her heart in her throat. Nothing. There was no carriage rolling up the drive like she half expected.

No one in their right mind would travel today.

She dropped the curtain and shook her head at her imagination. Ichigo wasn't coming. If he didn't follow her as soon as she left, he most certainly wasn't going to travel through this dangerous storm and flooded roads in an attempt to see her now. They said all that needed saying that afternoon in her sitting room. It was over.

"Enough with this kind of futile thinking" Orihime chided herself aloud and plucked her abandoned book off a side table.

Her favorite chair that made the trip with her from town welcomed her into its familiar cushions. Her foot hooked around the leg of a tufted ottoman placed nearby and tugged it closer. Orihime slouched down as much as her confining stays allowed, in a way her governess would never have approved, and kicked her feet up. Book in hand; she was soon lost in the misadventures of Miss Emily St. Aubert.

The wind howled outside as the storm continued to gain in strength, lashing the sturdy house with a torrent of rain. However, the only sound in the dimly lit room was the dry scrape of a page turning and Orihime's occasion tense intake of breath. Her fingers tightened around the stiff leather binding of her book while her imagination took flight with the many gothic horrors found within the pages.

There was a dull thump in the distance and a door banged wildly in the wind. Licking her trembling lip, the murmured echo of voices and the muffled sound of footsteps coming from just beyond the sitting room wove their way into the story.

Orihime lifted her eyes from the tragic story of kidnappings, death, and intrigue to look at the door. Her eyes widened as the polished handle started to turn. Straightening in her chair, she watched the door creaked open on stiff hinges to reveal nothing more than the gloom of the hall.

Straining to the listen to what sounded like a small scuffle on the other side, Orihime jumped as her maid popped out from behind the wooded door with a cheerful, "Hallo there, my lady.".

Releasing a breath, one she didn't realize she was holding, she smiled crookedly at Peggy and pressed a hand to her pounding heart.

"Is there something amiss?"

"No, nothing's wrong." Orihime answered hurriedly and closed her book. Maybe reading about gothic horrors on such a dreary day wasn't a good idea after all.

"My lady?" Peggy cocked her head in question as she sidled into the room and smoothly closed the door with her foot. "I just wanted to check on you and …and see if there's anything you might need."

Orihime's eyes flicked to the bell pull, not even two feet away, and slowly shook her head. It was kind of her to check on her, but it wasn't necessary. If she needed anything, all it took was a quick tug on the tasseled cord and Giles –who also traveled with her from London, would be there in an instant.

"Are you certain, perhaps a pillow for under your feet?"

She was about to refuse her offer when a loud crash sounded from what she believed to be the main stairs. Peggy's eyes went wide. Her maid stomped her feet and pummeled the pillow in her hands as she gave a mighty sneeze –one that sounded decidedly forced to Orihime's way of thinking.

She lay her book aside and made to rise. "Are you all right?" Orihime asked, feeling concerned for both her maid's suspicious behavior and for what had sounded like something large tumbling down the stairs.

"Of course, my lady, it's probably nothing more than this damp weather giving me the sniffles." Peggy said and forcefully shoved the fluffed pillow under Orihime's feet before she could move. "I'm surprised we've not all come down with a fever."

"Yes, that would be terrible." Orihime answered distractedly as she strained her ears for any other unexplained sounds.

Torn between questioning her maid or investigating that strange noise, Orihime swept her feet off the recently fluffed pillow and made to rise just as the door to the room burst open. Her eyes widened in bewilderment as a scullery maid and two young girls from the nearby village swept inside, soon followed by her butler.

Giles came to stand before her chair and gave a sharp bow. "My lady, I didn't know you were in here. Please forgive the intrusion." He said stiffly almost as if speaking by rote.

"It's quite all right. Is there something the matter?" Orihime leaned forward eagerly. "What was that strange sound?"

"Sound?" Giles avoided her gaze and gave a quick gesture to the three women who entered along with him. "There was no sound."

Diverted from her question by a sudden flurry of activity, Orihime watched in bemusement as the maids spread out through the room and began to remove the drapes, pillows, and even the decorations from the walls.

"This room has yet to be thoroughly cleaned." Giles offered in way of explanation as he stepped forward and held out his hand. He waited until Orihime cautiously laid her hand in his. "You haven't had lunch yet, have you?" He asked solicitously as he pulled her to her feet.

She tilted her head at Giles' perplexing question. The man ran her house like clockwork. He knew exactly when meal times were and if she had eaten or not. "No, I haven't," she answered slowly when it became clear he was expecting an answer, "but it's still early for lunch to be served." She gently reminded him, suddenly concerned that the move from Town might have thrown both Giles and his strict time schedule into disarray.

Giles tsked under his breath as he accepted her discarded book from Peggy. He placed it in Orihime's hands with a succinctly uttered, "Nonsense."

Nonsense? Orihime goggled at her normally taciturn butler. Did Giles just say nonsense? Then, she positively gaped as he guided her firmly toward the door.

Was he ejecting her from her sitting room?

"There's a fresh fire laid in your chambers. I'll have a tray sent up straightaway."

He was.

Orihime blinked in confusion and tried her level best to follow along with this mystifying conversation. Taking full advantage of her distraction, Giles lead her to the foot of the stairs without protest. Her foot was already on the first step when she gathered her thoughts and glanced at her butler, ready to demand to know what was going on.

"Yes, my lady, is there anything more you need?"

"Umm …" Her voice faltered. Giles looked and sounded like his normal self just now. Was she only imagining things? She noticed Peggy watching her from the doorway with concern in her eyes, as did the three maids behind her. Maybe she was. Orihime waved him off and made a hasty retreat up the stairs.

Upon reaching the upper level, her steps slowed and she jerked her head to the left. A footman stood at stiff attention in front of a door where Orihime was certain she just seen a flurry of motion from the corner of her eye. Her footman, Kipp, stepped out and strode down the hall, drawing her attention with him. She followed him slowly towards her set of rooms and glanced over her shoulder every so often, certain someone was watching her.

They came to a stop at the end of the hall and Kipp reached for the doorknob with one hand and her elbow with the other. "Allow me, my lady." He said with an obvious smile in his voice and swept her forward as the door swung open.

Practically propelled into her room, Orihime spun around and stared at the back of her now closed door. What was going on? It wasn't her imagination this time. Was her entire household going mad?

"Well, that worked better than expected. I didn't think your staff would cooperate."

Her breath stalled in her chest at the achingly familiar voice coming from behind her.

No, it wasn't possible.

Orihime's eyes went wide at the sudden realization of her household's strange behavior leading up to this point. It was indeed possible –and they were all in on it. Ichigo was here, in her house, and in the privacy of her bedchamber.

Her body leapt to life, excitement thrumming through her veins. He came for her! Calming her racing heart, Orihime pulled in a steadying breath. Was Ichigo here to confess or did he only come to continue their fight? Probably the latter, he was competitive and hated to lose. Nervous energy now coiled sickly in the pit of her stomach at the thought. She wasn't prepared to take on Ichigo in all his overprotective glory at the moment. Her emotions were still tangled, leaving her feeling vulnerable and uncertain of her ability to hold firm against him.

Blindly, her hand reached for the doorknob and yanked. She wasn't ready to face him -not yet. The handle rattled but did not budge. Her brow furrowed in confusion and she tried again with similar results. "What is going on -why won't my door open?"

"Because it's locked."

Her forehead thumped against the door at his simple answer. Was that Ichigo's idea of a joke? Orihime swallowed against the lump in her throat, almost scared to ask, "Yes, but why is it locked?"

"Well, I might have schemed, just a bit."

~o0o~

A/N: Yes, this is an update after almost 4 years. Better late than never, right? One more chapter and I can finally put this fic to bed. Thank you for your patience.

~Rairakku

-The book Orihime reading is The Mysteries of Udolpho, by Ann Radcliffe. It was a bestseller in its time, and inspiration for Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey. It's worth reading, if you can stomach weepy characters and melancholy –the word that is, it's used a lot.