Sins and Secrets

by P. F. Kozak

  They sat together on the chair, Jack supporting her with his arm, her hand still on his now softening cock. She tried to right herself, but found she could not manage it. Without bothering to tuck himself back in his trousers, Jack picked her up and carried Pamela to her bed.

  “Jack…”

  “Shhh, miss. It is time for you to sleep.” He pulled back the blankets and tucked her into the clean sheets.

  Pamela watched as he put himself back into his trousers. “Jack, I…”

  Jack put his fingers over her lips, the same fingers that had been inside her only a few minutes earlier. She could smell herself as he brushed her lips. “Miss Pamela, give Master Rennard some time. He will come round.”

  With that he turned down the gas lamp and let himself out, closing the door behind him.

  Chapter Four

  Sunlight shining in her eyes woke Pamela. She bolted from her bed, hoping to heaven she had not overslept. The clock showed three quarters past six. She had enough time to make herself presentable for breakfast with Peter.

  After cleaning herself in the washbowl, she selected a fashionable forest-green day dress from her trunk. When she wore it at Christmas, Peter had commented that she looked lovely in it. Shaking out the wrinkles as much as possible, she put it on over her chemise and petticoat. After quickly pinning up her hair, she hurried down the hall, hoping to be comfortably seated in the dining room before Peter came in.

  May had set out the tea and muffins. The smell of bacon wafted in from the kitchen. When her stomach growled in a most unladylike fashion, Pamela remembered she had not touched her dinner the night before.

  Sitting at her usual place, she poured herself a cup of tea. Within a few minutes, Peter came into the dining room. “Good morning, Peter.”

  “Good morning, Pamela.” Peter sat opposite her. “Would you mind passing me the teapot?”

  Rather than passing him the tea, she stood and poured it for him. “It appears to be a lovely day. The sun shining in my window woke me.”

  “Yes, indeed it does.”

  Pamela sat down and looked at him. He avoided looking back. “Peter, I’ve asked Jack to retrieve my father’s bed from storage. I do believe I will have a canopy built for it.”

  “As you wish.” His rigid jaw said much more than his words.

  “Peter, for Lord’s sake, I live here now. Do you plan to never have a conversation with me again?”

  “And what would you care to discuss, Pamela? Perhaps the literature you have been reading lately?”

  “What I read is my own affair.”

  Peter sipped his tea. “Interesting choice of words, my dear. How many of your own affairs have you had?”

  “Not nearly enough to suit me.” Pamela took a muffin and spread some jam on it. Sparring with Peter on this subject pleased her for some reason. She waited for his move.

  He leaned forward and also took a muffin. “And what would suit you?”

  Pamela gauged her answer carefully. She had him talking and didn’t want to set him off again. “I don’t know what would suit me. Or perhaps I should say who.”

  “I understood you to say marriage would equate to selling your soul.”

  “I’m not talking about marriage.” Just then Lucy brought in a platter of bacon and eggs and set it down between them.

  Peter smiled. “Good morning, Lucy.”

  “Good morning, sir.” Nodding at Pamela, she simply said, “Miss.”

  Remembering her place in the household, Pamela responded, “Good morning, Lucy.” Helping herself to some food from the platter, she continued, “After Master Rennard has left for the day, I would like to move to my new room. I trust that will not be a problem?”

  “No, miss.”

  “And please tell Jack that later this morning, I will be going to the building where my father’s furniture is stored, to see what I care to bring back for my room.”

  “Yes, miss. Will there be anything else?”

  Peter sharply interjected, “Lucy, I would like to see you before I leave. Please wait for me at the door.”

  Lucy’s face flushed and she wiped her hands on her apron. “Yes, sir, as you say, sir.” She quickly turned and nearly ran to the kitchen.

  “Peter, what is the point of rattling the girl so?”

  “I did nothing to rattle her.”

  “Yes, you did! Anyone spoken to in that tone would think they are about to be caned!” Pamela got up from the table. “I’m going to make sure she knows everything is all right.”

  “Pamela, sit down!”

  Pamela stood beside the table, her small fists clenched at her sides. Had she been a man, she would have connected one of those fists to his jaw. “Peter Rennard, you may speak that way to the hired help, but you will not use that tone of voice with me! I live here now. I will do what I wish when I wish to do it.”

  Peter stood as well and threw his napkin on the table. “And Pamela, whether you like it or not, I am still your guardian and master of this house. As long as you live here, you are answerable to me. Do you understand?”

  “I understand you have been a brute since I arrived. I do not know why, nor do I care for it one bit! And whether you like it or not, I am a woman now! I have my own mind and fully intend to use it!”

  Before Peter had a chance to stop her, she grabbed hold of her skirt and went through the door that led to the kitchen. He leaned on the table and closed his eyes, hissing, “Damn that girl,” through clenched teeth. She had done it to him again. As he watched her fire rise and her temper flare, his cock voiced what he could not.

  Peter sat down and tried to focus on his food. His stiff prick stretched uncomfortably against his leg, a constant reminder that Pamela had come home to stay. How in the name of God could he endure this? No other woman had ever done this to him, not one! Only Pamela. He had sworn to Sir George on his deathbed that he would protect his daughter. And who would protect Pamela from him?

  Knowing he would be in chambers shortly helped Peter regain his control. It also helped that Pamela had not returned. No doubt she had taken the back stairs up to her room. For some insane reason, that disappointed him. Now, he wouldn’t see her again until his day ended.

  He finished his meal and went to find Lucy. She stood in the foyer waiting for him. “Lucy, does Jack have the carriage ready?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Let’s step outside for a moment.” She followed him to the stoop. “Lucy, there is no need to be anxious. I am sorry if I spoke too sternly in the dining room. I only want to know if you have anything to tell me.”

  “Sir?”

  “Remember I asked you to keep your eyes open when Miss Pamela unpacked?”

  “Yes, sir, I remember.”

  “Did you see anything?”

  “Yes, sir. She has more volumes of that Pearl journal on her desk, with some books and letters.”

  “Does she now! Did you see how many?”

  “Not exactly, sir, maybe six or eight. I couldn’t be sure.”

  “Lucy, you do me a great service with this information.” Peter hesitated for a moment, and then asked, “Did Miss Pamela say anything to you about me when she came into the kitchen?”

  “No, sir, just that…”

  “What, Lucy?”

  “Just that I shouldn’t let you scare me into doin’ nothing I don’t want to do.”

  “Are you scared of me, Lucy?”

  She said very timidly, “Not usually, sir. But sometimes, when you get riled up, I do catch a bit of fright.”

  “Like in the dining room?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Peter could see Jack sitting on the carriage waiting for him. He didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that he and Lucy were talking. “Lucy, I have to go to chambers now. But I want you to know, I am not angry with you, not at all. It is Miss Pamela that has me riled, not you.”

  “Sir?”

  “Yes, Lucy?”

  “I beg your pardon, not
to speak out of turn, but if you and Miss Pamela don’t get on, why is she moving into that room? You’ll be seeing her all the time.” Lucy put her hands on her hips and in a rush of words, blurted out, “You called me by her name last night, you did!”

  The urge to reprimand her for her indiscretion welled up in him. But continuing this conversation on a public stoop would only make matters worse. “There are reasons for it I can’t explain to you. I have to go now. Good day, Lucy.”

  With a quick curtsy, she tersely replied, “Good day, Master Rennard.”

  When Jack saw Peter walking down the cobblestone path from the house, he jumped down to open the gate. “Good morning, sir. It is a fine one, it is.”

  “Good morning, Jack.” Peter stopped beside the carriage and waited for Jack. Jack came round to open the door. “Jack, I understand Pamela wants you to retrieve some furniture for her today and that she wants to go with you.”

  “That’s what she told me, sir.”

  “Make sure you stay close to her. She shouldn’t be wandering around a storage room alone.”

  “I will make sure she is safe. I surely will.”

  “Good man.” He pulled a crown from his vest pocket. “Here, Jack. Contract for a wagon to carry anything she wants to bring. The bed alone will require a wagon.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll see to it, sir.”

  “And Jack, could you please tell May that Miss Pamela and I will be taking dinner together tonight, at the usual time? Tell her to set up the small table in the library, in front of the fireplace. We will need some privacy.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jack closed the brougham door. With images of Pamela reading those journals for many months now threatening to overtake his concentration, Peter forced his attention to the day ahead.

  Pamela stood at the window in the parlour and watched the carriage pull away from the house. Once it disappeared down Piccadilly Street, she immediately rang for Lucy.

  “Yes, miss?”

  “Lucy, I need your help moving my things.”

  “I know, miss.” Lucy nervously twisted her apron.

  “I saw Master Rennard speaking to you. Did he upset you again?”

  “No, miss.”

  Pamela pressed for more information. “Lucy, I heard something last night. Did Master Rennard take liberties with you when you brought him his dinner?” Lucy did not answer. “Lucy, please, I need to know. Did he?”

  Lucy answered coldly, “No more than Jack did with you, miss.”

  Pamela weighed her words carefully. “Lucy, are you and Jack fond of each other?”

  “We have tipped a pint now and again, miss.”

  “It might help you to know I fancy Master Rennard, not Jack.”

  “Master Rennard fancies you, too, miss.”

  “He does? How do you know that?”

  “I can’t say, miss. I just know.”

  Pamela motioned to the sofa. “Lucy, come here and sit beside me for a bit.” Obviously flustered, Lucy followed Pamela and sat down beside her. “I want to explain something to you.”

  “Yes, miss.”

  Knowing the indelicacy of speaking of such matters with a servant, Pamela nevertheless continued. “For a long while, I have hoped Master Rennard would see me as a woman. I think he is beginning to, but it is upsetting him.”

  “He told me, miss.”

  “Lucy, please, what did he say?” Pamela heard the pleading tone of her voice. She didn’t care.

  “He said you had him riled, not me.”

  “I know he is angry with me.”

  “It’s not just that, miss.”

  “Please, Lucy, what else?”

  “Last night, he wanted you, Miss Pamela, not me.”

  Pamela closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Trying to keep her voice steady, she asked, “Then he did take liberties with you.”

  “He doesn’t want you to know about his state, Miss Pamela. He is hiding it, he is. Miss, that’s all I can say. Master Rennard is good to me. I won’t speak badly of him.”

  “All right, Lucy, I understand. Let me show you what I would like moved.”

  Pamela led the way upstairs to her room. She told Lucy what to move: her clothing, her books and a few of the pictures. When Lucy picked up the pile of books from the desk, Pamela noticed her interest in the journals. “Lucy, leave those. I will take care of them myself.”

  Lucy put them back on the desk. “Miss, if I may ask, what are they?”

  “It is a publication, Lucy, with stories and poems. Why do you ask?”

  “I saw Master Rennard reading one last night, when I brought him his dinner.”

  “That journal is why Master Rennard is so angry with me. The stories are about men and women being together.”

  Lucy’s eyes opened wide. “Miss, you mean indecently?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  “Oh, my, Miss Pamela. He didn’t tell me that!”

  “No, I don’t suppose he did.”

  “You have so many of them! That’s why he…” Lucy stopped short.

  “Why he what, Lucy?”

  “He just wanted to know if you had more.”

  Pamela went over to her desk and picked up the stack of journals. “I have six here. There are four more in my boxes that will arrive in a few days. You have my permission to tell him I have ten of them. Plus the one he already has makes eleven.”

  “Yes, Miss Pamela.”

  “Lucy, I am not angry with you. This is between Master Rennard and myself. I do not want you caught in the middle. Now, could you go and see if Jack has returned yet? I am anxious to get my furniture.” Lucy hurried from the room, taking the stack of books with her.

  Pamela hugged the stack of journals to her chest. Peter had read one. He now understood her yearnings. Somehow, she had to find a way to have him come to her instead of to Lucy or to anyone else!

  She took the journals and her letters to her new room. Jack would have to dismantle the present bed and store it in the attic. The sparsely furnished room needed more furniture and some bright colours. Pictures and a looking glass on the wall would brighten it, as would some new wallpaper. She would manage that later. Right now, she wanted to be as close to Peter as possible.

  Not having eaten dinner yesterday nor much breakfast today, Pamela felt a bit peckish. She took the back stairs down to the kitchen. May always had something cooking. She would fix Pamela a plate of whatever she had on hand.

  At the bottom of the stairs, she heard voices coming from the servants’ quarters at the other end of the hallway. Then she heard a crash and glass breaking. She heard Jack yell, “Calm down, Lucy, I’m telling you, nothing happened!”

  “The devil nothing happened! She’s been reading indecent books. Master Rennard knows about it, too. He’s bloody frigged off, he is!”

  “And how the bloomin’ ’ell would you know he’s frigged off?”

  “I know, is all, I just know.”

  Pamela crept closer to the door, which they had left ajar. She saw a broken ale bottle on the floor. Lucy and Jack stood beside the bed. “You had better mind yourself, Lucy. You could cost us both our employ. Throwing that bottle at me could’ve woke the dead!”

  “You don’t need to worry about that, now do ya? Miss Pamela will be taking care of you, I’m sure.”

  “Leave Miss Pamela out of this.”

  “And what do you think Master Rennard would say if he knew you went to her room last night?”

  “Now, you wouldn’t be thinking of telling him?” Jack took hold of her arm.

  “I might be. He’s asked for my help, letting him know what Miss Pamela is doing.”

  “I don’t think you’ll be wanting to tell him, Lucy. You really don’t want the guvner to be throwing me out on my arse, now do ya?”

  “I’ll have to be thinkin’ about that.” Pamela could hardly believe her eyes when she saw Jack reach out and openly rub Lucy’s breasts.

  Jack confronts Lucy, conti
nue reading

  Lucy confronts Jack

  “Maybe this will help you make up your mind.” Jack pushed Lucy back on the bed and pushed up her skirt. She made no attempt to stop him.

  “You bugger. You think your prick will keep me quiet?”

  “I think you need reminding of what you lose if the guvner sacks me!”

  “Miss Pamela is waitin’ on you. She wants to get her furniture.”

  “She won’t mind waitin’ a few more minutes.”

  “And just what have you been doing that makes her so agreeable?”

  “Bloody ’ell not what I’ve been doing to you!” Pamela stifled a gasp as Jack pulled off Lucy’s drawers and left her bare. “She’s saving herself.” He undid his trousers and pulled his pud. “Seems the guvner has a bit of something waiting for him.”

  Lucy laughed. “She’s got more than a bit of something waiting for her, too. He’s got a big one, he does.”

  Jack snapped at her, “And how the ’ell would you know how big it is?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Lucy squirmed on the bed and opened her legs wide.

  “Seems you need a reminder of our agreement. Roll over.”

  “Jack, you’re getting yourself all riled over nothin’ at all.”

  “I said roll over.” Jack did not wait for Lucy to respond. He grabbed her and flopped her over on her belly. Then he straddled her legs.

  “Jack Sims, get off of me!”

  “I ain’t doin’ nothin’ of the sort, not until I’m ready.”

  Before she realised what she was doing, Pamela was stroking her breast as she watched them on the bed. Jack had his back to her. She saw him raise his hand a moment before she heard a loud smack. Lucy squealed. “What the bloomin’ ’ell are you doing?”

  Jack smacked her again. “You need reminding that you promised your cunt to me and nobody else.”

  “He ain’t had my cunt!” Jack smacked her again.

  “Then what’s he done that he’s told you so much?” Lucy squealed as Jack’s hand came down on her again, and again.