by Tanya Allan
“Would you like me to come with you?”
“No, it is only a few miles south, and George will drive.”
He kissed me and returned to his study.
“Can I come, Mama?” asked Katie.
“If you wish,” I said, and she went and put on her bonnet.
George brought the carriage round to the front of the house, so Katie and I stepped up into it.
I smiled as we retraced my first journey from all those months ago, finally arriving at the grubby cottage down the dirt track.
“Stay here, my love,” I said to Katie, and I dismounted and knocked on the door.
A short, squat man of around thirty-five opened the door, but he looked older, such was his hard life. He was dressed as a farm worker and had his sleeves rolled up. He stared at me, then at the carriage with George standing holding the heads of the horses. Katie looked down at him, frowning.
“Hello, my name is Lady Jane de Lambert. Is your son Oliver here?”
“Yer Ladyship,” he said, and I swear he touched his forelock. I almost burst out laughing.
“Wot’s ‘e been an’ done?” he asked.
“Nothing, he once did me a great favour, and I am here to repay him.”
“Huh?”
“May I come in?” I asked.
He looked at the unkempt interior of the cottage and reddened.
“I understand, it is hard working all day, and then having to keep the house as well,” I said, and he grinned sheepishly, shouting for his son.
“Wot?” said Oliver, peering out at me.
“Lawks!” he said, as he recognised me.
His father clipped him round the ear.
“This ‘ere is a ladyship, so none o’ yer lip,” he told the boy.
I handed Oliver the clothes that I had wrapped in a brown paper parcel.
“Thank you, Olly. You saved my life that day,” I said, and then handed him a gold sovereign. “This is for you. You should keep it until you can spend it wisely. Thank you again.”
He took the gold coin, and his eyes could get no larger. He turned it over in his hands, disbelieving that he could ever possess anything as precious.
His father was frowning.
“Your son helped me when I was in difficulties. I had been robbed and my clothes ruined, so he loaned me some clothing that had belonged to his mother. I promised to return them and pay for the trouble he went to on my behalf. Here are ten sovereigns for you. Please take the trouble of getting him some schooling. It would be such a shame for him to have an opportunity wasted. Perhaps you could even pay for someone to come and clean the cottage?” I said, handing him a small velvet bag that jingled with the heavy coins inside.
I smiled, turned, and remounted the carriage. They waved as we drove down the lane, their white faces staring as I disappeared round the bend.
“Mama, what were you doing?” Katie asked.
“Before I came to be your governess, I was robbed near here, and all my luggage stolen. My clothes were ruined, but I managed to escape and get to those cottages. The little boy found me some clothes, and helped me, so I was repaying him.”
“But all those sovereigns?”
“Yes, it is a lot of money. To them it is a fortune. It is possible that it will change their lives for the better, but probably it will make little difference.”
“Why?”
“Some people do not know how to deal with money, and will spend it stupidly. They will drink or gamble, or give it away to their friends. It takes a wise man to deal with money.”
“What will he do?”
“I don’t know, I pray he is sensible,” I said.
Two weeks later, Roger was in London, where he was informing the army that he was retiring from the lists, and should collect a small, but very handy pension. I was feeding Edward in the nursery when Groves knocked on the door, and announced that there was a man to see me at the kitchen door. Groves would never enter whilst I had my breasts exposed, and I sensed he disapproved of my breast-feeding my son.
“I’ll be down directly. What does he want?”
“He wouldn’t say, my Lady, he muttered something about sovereigns.”
I smiled.
“Give him some tea and a piece of cake. I will be a few minutes.”
It was Oliver’s father, and Oliver was outside sitting on the wall. They had both washed and were wearing their Sunday best suits.
I had him brought to my sitting room, and Oliver too. Both stared at the furnishings and their new surroundings.
“Yer ladyship,” said the man, bobbing his head.
“I need to know your name?” I asked.
“John, mum.”
“Well, John. What can I do for you?”
He took out the bag of coins that I had given him, placing it on the table as if it was about to explode.
“I don’t know if I can be of accepting them like. It be too much for a man like me.”
“You work on Mr Harker’s farm?”
“Yes, yer ladyship.”
“What do you do?”
“General farm labourer, mum.”
I picked up the bag, and could tell by the weight than none had gone from it.
This made me think. I realised that our groom was finding it tough with all the extra work, as Roger had doubled the size of his stable recently. So should Roger go off to war again, then George would go with him.
“John, what do you know about horses?”
“I works with ‘orses every day, mum, and so does Olly.”
“Is your cottage tithe?”
“Yes mum, it goes with the job.”
“Then I propose to offer young Oliver a job as an assistant groom with our stables. However, I insist that he attends school three mornings a week. He may stay in the room above the stable, and we will pay him the going wage. Is this what you wanted?”
“No mum, that is, I never wanted nothing, but I’m pleased for Olly like.”
“John, you are in a job that gives you a nice cottage. But unless you keep it well, it will fall down around your ears. Oliver needs schooling and a start in life. I am prepared to give him both, on the condition that you get yourself sorted out. The cottage needs a damn good clean and some repairs done to it. The farmer cares not that you live in a pigsty, but only you turn up for work and do what he bids. I will pay for some repairs and I will look after Oliver. It is not charity, I owe it to him, will you accept that?”
John looked at me and smiled.
“Thank you, yer ladyship. I’d be happy to accept that.”
“Good, now Oliver, you will report to George the groom on Monday morning at seven o’clock.”
Oliver had listened to our conversation with a deep suspicious frown on his face, but his brow cleared and he grinned at me.
“Am I to be your groom, Lady?” he asked.
“You will be the assistant groom, which means in time, you may well rise to that position,” I said.
“Cor. An’ do I ‘ave to do that school work?”
“Yes, Oliver, you do.”
“So, will I learn to read an’ stuff?”
“There is no reason why not.”
“Cor,” he said.
His father took a lingering look at the sovereigns on the table, nodded to me, and walked out. He looked a more contented man.
Roger rightly believed he had served his nation with distinction, so had no qualms over letting younger men take up the challenge. He returned from London, content now that his military days were over, and yet he was now still only thirty-three. My body was twenty-six, but I knew that I would age considerably slower than he would. I tried not to think about it too much.
He was slightly concerned that I had taken on staff without consulting him, but as I explained some of the circumstances, he understood and accepted my decision. The country was awash with returning servicemen; some fit, but many with limbs missing. There was no social welfare system in place to house or employ these men
, so their wandering abroad, thieving and flagrant begging to survive would cause the Vagrancy Act of 1824 to be passed by Parliament in a few years time.
The year progressed, with Oliver proving himself an industrious and promising groom. George found life a lot easier with willing young hands helping him. The lad was eager to learn everything he could, so I often found Katie helping him with his reading between schooldays. Katie liked Oliver, while Oliver quite simply worshipped the ground upon which the girl walked. Although he was a couple of years older than her, at ten she was as tall as he, and infinitely more worldly. Nevertheless, he had a way with horses, and they were equally fond of Snowflake.
When the pony developed colic, Katie spent much of her time in the stall with her animal. Oliver would spend all night with him, so together they nursed him back to health. Oliver was in complete awe of me, but Roger’s mere presence would have him quaking in his boots. The lad rarely went home, for there was nothing for him there. He adopted us as his family, preferring to stay in his little room above the stables and lived in hope of seeing Katie each day.
He was fiercely proud of his position, and many times he got into fights defending the good name of Sir Roger and Lady Jane de Lambert.
As our groom, his standing in the community rose considerably, so he would give himself the title of Lady Jane’s groom.
As Christmas 1815 approached, the family hosted a party for friends and family, including Maud and her husband. I dreaded the old bat coming to my house, but in the event, she was almost human. I took some time to be with little Edward and, as I breast-fed him, Maud came and sat next to me. I sensed she wanted to say something that she found difficult. She was also a little disconcerted that I was breast-feeding my son.
“Jane. I have to confess to behaving rather churlishly towards you, so I crave your forgiveness.”
I was a little stunned, so was unable to say anything for a moment. In addition, Edward was developing teeth, so was chewing my nipple.
“Ow. You little basket!” I said to him.
Maud actually was nearly in tears, believing my wrath was meant for her. “I was feeling protective towards my brother, and I cannot excuse my behaviour towards you. I felt you were an adventuress. But now I realise that you are not and it was unforgivable of me.”
I prised my nipple out of my son’s mouth and moved him to the other breast to allow some respite for that particular nipple. Once the little sod started to suckle again, I turned to my sister-in-law.
“Maud. Please believe me when I say that I hold no ill feeling towards you. I understand, I may not like what you did, but I can understand why you did it. We are very different, you and I, but we are sisters-in-law. We may never be close friends, but we need not be enemies. So, I do forgive you,” I said.
She then surprised me by openly weeping. I saw an opportunity to shift the focus of her guilt.
“But, sister-in-law, it is your brother you have hurt more than I. So, it is to him you should speak and apologise, if you feel so deeply,” I said. She nodded, sniffling into a miniscule handkerchief.
It was a watershed in our relationship, so things improved vastly after that.
I was also pleased, as Britain and America had made peace again, so Roger was able to write to his brother as the trade ships started sailing to American ports once more.
Roger received one letter from his brother, who now owned a large plantation in Virginia. James grew tobacco, being one of the few landowners who refused to use slave labour. He repeatedly beseeched his brother to come and help him, and I could tell that Roger was sorely tempted.
On an evening shortly after the New Year, we were sitting in the small sitting room, he was reading, and I was gently strumming the guitar. The children were in bed, and I could tell he had something on his mind.
“Jane?”
“My love?”
“What would you say if I suggested we were to go to America?”
“You are minded to help your brother?”
“Perhaps.”
“I would not object, but I should be reluctant to go until the autumn.”
“Why so?”
“Because our baby is to be born in September, so I would rather she be born here.”
Roger dropped his book and stared at me.
“Another?”
I smiled and nodded.
“I missed my period last month, so I think it will be September.”
“Oh, my love! This is wonderful. But you said she?”
“I have a feeling,” I said, smiling. He knew about my feelings so shook his head.
“Have you thought of a name for her yet?” he asked.
“Emily,” I said.
“Then her second name should be Jane.”
I smiled.
“And if it is a boy, Richard,” he said.
“That’s fine by me. But, getting back to the subject of America, I have no desire to spend another winter in England. So I will support whatever decision you make.”
“My love! How is it I have been blessed with the most supportive wife?”
“Because you make love to her so well, she could never think about being objectionable,” I said, teasing him.
“I have in mind to drop the ‘de’ from our name. It is more English, and I don’t want to be seen as a damn Frenchie.”
“If you wish dear, as it is your name you may do with it whatsoever you wish.”
“I will go up to London to sort out this matter and look into going to America. James will be pleased if we joined him in his venture.”
“That is nice, dear,” I said, pleased that my plans were coming together.
We retired to bed and, as most nights, made passionate love to each other. I discovered that I adored sex, and was almost insatiable once I was aroused. Roger knew that we would make love two or three times each night, and at any opportunity during the day, if we got the chance. The wonderful thing about ladies fashions was that I rarely wore any knickers, so we would often indulge in sex as the need took us. I would often take his tea to him in his study, when I would orally stimulate him and then allow him to fuck me across his desk.
It was no wonder that I was pregnant. My womb must have contained more of Roger’s sperm than his testicles!
As I lay next to him, naked as always, I listened to his breathing and smiled in the darkness. Being a woman was everything I had ever dreamed of, and so much more. To give of myself to the man I loved, was, in itself, the most wonderful experience. Being loved in return, so fully and so physically, was a dream come true.
I reached out and touched him, fondling his limp cock. He moaned in his sleep, but started to rise to the occasion. I felt my juices flow in anticipation, so eased my bottom across, and slipped him into me from behind.
He was still half-asleep, so I just gripped him with my vaginal muscles. Soon he started to slip in and out. Ever so slowly and gently, we fucked the night away. As we made love so often, that our stamina was greatly improved and he was capable of staying inside me for half an hour without ejaculating. On this occasion, we semi-dozed while he stayed inside me, with him gently moving every now and again.
However, the slight movement brought me to orgasm and, as my muscles went into the spasms of pleasure, so too he came, and spewed forth his seed inside me. We slept, with him still inside me. My smile was fixed in place.
The next day saw my husband set off for London, so I decided to turn detective. The children were settled down, Katie and William with Mr Spurway, and Edward with Nanny in the Nursery. I put on my cloak and boots, set off for the market square and scoured the town for the stout companion of the man we had killed in Paris. I started at the house in Stert Street, and worked my way around the town. I was on the point of giving up, when I saw him in the bakers shop in the square.
I simply walked in and waited behind him in the queue.
He was buying two loaves of bread.
“Anything else, Mr Soames?” the baker asked.
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“No, thank you, that’s all today,” he said, paying the few pennies and leaving.
“Ah, Lady de Lambert. Nice to see you, Ma’am. Cold out,” the baker said.
“It certainly is. Could I have a large white loaf, and some of those gingerbread men? The children do so love them.”
I paid for my purchases and went back out into the January cold. Mr Soames was walking rapidly across the square towards Bath Street with his head down and shoulders hunched up against the cold. I followed, watching as he went into a house in Bath Street. Number 14.
I would pay Mr Soames a visit.
I then visited my friend Josiah Smith, who had made me my wonderful shower. He was more than just a blacksmith, as he had a nice sideline in making sporting firearms for the farmers. As the Napoleonic war had changed the design of guns forever, one now had access to rifled barrels and vastly improved systems of ignition.
Josiah was not a gifted craftsman who would be able to ask ridiculous sums for his work, such as Holland and Holland or Mr Purdey, but his pieces were utilitarian and basic. There was no fancy scrollwork or engraving on his guns, but he made very sturdy and functional guns that were reliable without being fancy. I had given him some small order to construct certain metal components of a specific design. He was not aware of it, but he was the first man in the world to construct a working, six-shot revolver pistol, before the Colt was even invented. Using my down-loaded knowledge, the ammunition I constructed myself, using one hundred brass cases that Josiah had made for me. The powder was readily available, so all I needed was some space in the tool shed for my small amount of equipment, like the mould and press.
Josiah knew that he was making a pistol, but due to its size, and believing it to be a special design for a lady, he saw no future in it, as he found it too fiddly to be commercially viable. The local farmers wanted guns to kill game and vermin, so shotguns were more to his interest. As I may have mentioned, there were many robbers and thieves on the roads, a legacy of the wars, with so many ex-servicemen nearly destitute and resorting to wandering abroad and stealing from travellers. In fact, these men hastened the formation of the modern day Police, which would occur in 1839.