The Street Orphans

by Mary Wood

  ‘My dear, if that is the turn of your conversation, I think we ladies will retire and leave you gentlemen to your port. Come along, girls, I have some delicious sweet pastries laid out for us in the withdrawing room and a nice, delicate wine to wash them down with. We can talk about the fun we had on Katrina’s wedding day, and hear your plans for your forthcoming one, Henrietta. I expect the arrangements are taking shape now?’

  The men stood and bowed. Marcia saw a chance in the situation and hung back just long enough for the other ladies to get clear of the table. When she did follow, she intentionally brushed against Frederick and faked being unbalanced. A thrill went through her as he caught her. She held his eyes for a moment and then caught an amused look in Bellinger’s as he stepped forward to catch hold of her, too. His wink held a promise of what he’d hinted at in this afternoon’s encounter. She hid her contempt for him behind the smile that she gave him in return. ‘Thank you, gentlemen. You saved me from a fall. I tripped on the leg of the chair. I hope I didn’t hurt you, Frederick?’ With this, she let her hand slide down his arm.

  ‘No, Marcia, I am only glad you are not hurt.’

  ‘And I’m glad to have helped, my—’

  Bellinger was pulled up short by Henrietta calling his name and saying, ‘My Lord Bellinger, please don’t take chivalry too far. I am sure Marcia is perfectly all right.’

  Mother came to the rescue again. ‘Of course she is. Lord Bellinger, would you like to escort Lady Henrietta to the withdrawing room? And, Frederick, Lady Katrina is waiting for your attention.’

  Both men jumped forward to attend to their respective ladies. As she watched them making obvious amends, Marcia’s amusement reached its peak and a laugh escaped her.

  ‘Are you drunk, Marcia?’

  Mother’s urgent whisper stopped her giggle. ‘No, of course not, Mama. You know how these situations affect me. It’s all a bloody farce!’

  ‘What is? And please do not use such crude language.’

  ‘All of it. Two lords and a “proper-born” lady dining at our table – besides other things, such as pretended love, which is tolerated out of respect! I hate the whole thing.’

  ‘Oh, and will you hate it when you are betrothed to someone considered “a catch”, then?’

  ‘Mama, my catch has been caught. You and Daddy netted him for Katrina. You didn’t even stop to consider me. You must have seen how I felt?’ To her utter consternation, tears prickled Marcia’s eyes.

  ‘Oh, my dear, no. Oh, sweetheart, I am so sorry.’

  The others had left the room, carrying on their charade, and Father was busy instructing their butler to bring the cigars, so for one moment she could be her mama’s little girl and take comfort in the arm she put around her.

  ‘It hurts, Mama, but don’t worry, I will cope.’

  ‘I know you will, dear, but please be careful how you do so. Being bitter and twisted, and throwing insults that make Katrina uncomfortable, will only make matters worse. Better that we find you someone of your own and that you have a big society wedding to someone of importance. Then you can throw your energy into the arrangements and get involved in all that your standing will bring you, and children and—’

  ‘Mama! You’re impossible.’ But despite sounding exasperated, Marcia could see the funny side of her mother’s reaction. Her tears dried and her sense of humour won the day as she laughed out loud.

  ‘What are you two still doing here? And behaving as if you have a conspiracy going.’ Her father looked pleased as he said this.

  ‘Oh, women’s talk: I am just sharing a moment with my youngest. We are going now, and will send the boys back in.’ With this from her mother, Marcia felt she could get through the rest of the evening, but as for the night-time? She didn’t know. For surely tonight Frederick, now completely recovered, would visit his wife’s bedroom? The very thought hurt her deeply.

  Coming together with Katrina still held a little fear for Frederick and was tainted by his behaviour on their wedding day, and his lack of memory of their first time, but he knew he could not put off his duty to his wife any longer. Now he had to tell her that he had done something without consulting her – which, according to her father, she might not like.

  He’d managed to put it all out of his mind, as he’d enjoyed the few hours he’d spent at the mill with his father-in-law today. He’d found the workings fascinating – the noise of the looms and the smell of the cloth – more so than he had the business side of things. His social conscience had been touched by the young ages of some of the workforce and the hours they had to labour: all in the name of saving money, which was abhorrent to him when the workhouses were full of able-bodied misfortunates who could be put to work for a decent wage and helped out of their plight. Yes, they would have to be paid more than the young ones, but the industry could stand the cost. It was just sheer bloody greed, as far as he could see. And although he hadn’t won the argument, he had brought it up whilst they had their port and managed to voice his concerns.

  All of this, though, didn’t detract from the joy he’d felt at Amy being found. Not least because it meant that Haydon Green had proved his worth and had found her so soon after being commissioned to do so. Admittedly, Amy wasn’t difficult to track down and was where she would be expected to be, after he’d found out the truth from Bellinger. That man was a cad of the first order. Frederick no longer considered him his friend, but rather someone he had to watch out for, but couldn’t avoid.

  As it was, now that they had located Amy, and had Josh Bottomless’s lead concerning Ruth’s whereabouts, surely there was every hope that Haydon Green would find Ruth, too.

  Frederick’s plan for the sisters had changed, after hearing that Katrina might not be pleased to know that he was helping them. He’d decided to set them to work in the mill and find them lodgings, but this didn’t sit easily with him. He wanted them in his household, especially Ruth. He’d convinced himself that just having her near would be enough. There would be plenty of jobs going: maids would be needed by the dozen, with his vision of running his life along the lines that it should be run. Beckstone Abbey would be fully opened up and decorated, the furnishings reupholstered and new carpets laid. Visitors would grace its corridors once more, and parties would be held. Shooting weekends would be arranged and, when the stables were up and running again, hunting weekends would be reinstated. He might even buy a racehorse and enjoy gambling in that field, as well as his poker games, which he would now host for the first time.

  In due course children would run around the place and be schooled in the nursery – yes, a lot of staff would be required. Maybe Amy could be brought on as a governess; she’d showed herself to be a bright girl. And Ruth . . . if only Ruth could be given the position I’d like to give her – oh dear, I’m off again; I must stop this ridiculous notion! Anyway, there would be a position for Ruth, something that didn’t tax her too much; and for this other girl that Amy wanted to bring with her. And he’d have to content himself with having Ruth near him.

  Katrina’s maid opening the door to him, instead of his wife, disconcerted Frederick for a moment. Katrina had seemed in good spirits at dinner and had even flirted with him a little, once the embarrassment Marcia had caused had been handled. Though he had to admit he had no idea what lay at the bottom of all of that, and why Katrina had been so distressed by it.

  Now that he was in her presence, all such thoughts vanished as his nerves had him begging: Please don’t let her cry off. And please don’t let what I have done upset her. His role of being married to her had to be sealed in his mind. He had to feel in every way that he was Katrina’s husband. Maybe then he could cope.

  At Katrina’s direction, the maid scurried out after handing her the jar of perfume she’d had in her hand. While she waited for her maid to depart, Katrina kept her eyes focused on Frederick’s, as she squeezed the soft bulb on the jar and released a spray of scent onto her neck.

  His nervousness and sense of shame
increased. ‘Katrina, I am really—’

  ‘Don’t!’

  Her finger felt soft on his lips – placed there to stop him making his umpteenth apology. She had almost run towards him, and her body was so near his. The crisp linen of her white nightdress had a fresh fragrance about it, vying with the delicate perfume she had just sprayed.

  Reaching for her, he pulled her close to him, feeling her softness through his dressing gown – the only garment he wore. He drank in the scent of her and revelled in the sensation of having a woman snuggled up to him for the first time, though for a moment he was tinged with embarrassment, as he knew she must be able to feel the hardness of his response. Their lips meeting took away all such feelings of discomfort.

  There wasn’t anything he could compare to the sensation of their kiss. This was a measure of his naivety, but then no comparison was needed. The kiss had its own uniqueness. Caressing her came as a natural extension of the kiss. Katrina’s willingness helped: she showed nothing but desire at his touch, and even led him to where she needed him to touch her, moaning her pleasure at his actions. His own pleasure and confidence grew, banishing the last traces of the anxiety that had plagued him, as a cascade of feelings like none he’d experienced before surged through him.

  ‘May I join you in your bed, Katrina?’

  Her giggle wasn’t a mockery, but added to his anticipation.

  ‘Of course, kind sir, but surely it is our bed?’ Her voice held a note of seduction and the lids of her eyes lowered, giving her a look of the temptresses in paintings that he’d seen when they had visited a gallery together and she’d told him of her love of art. But what surprised him and affected him most was her removing her shift. She was beautiful. Her skin had a creamy texture, her breasts were soft mounds. Her stomach was gently rounded, and the curls of the soft down covering her vagina were dark and thick. Her thighs were slim and taut; everything – even her tiny, dainty feet – had a loveliness about it. And it was all his, to enjoy whenever he wanted to.

  For a fleeting moment, he wondered if Ruth would be this beautiful. He knew she would, despite her foot, and he wished . . . No, he couldn’t insult Katrina like that. She was his wife and he needed to give his whole self to her. She deserved that of him.

  The bed creaked as it took his weight. Katrina giggled again. ‘You look like a naughty boy who might get caught out, but you don’t have to worry. These quarters are far from the rest of the house. Relax, Frederick. We’ll fare well. I – I mean, we did that first time.’

  ‘Did we? I haven’t been able to ask you, and I—’

  ‘Don’t. You have been clothed in shame ever since, and I know it wasn’t all your own fault.’

  ‘You truly believe that?’

  ‘Yes, I know it. Oh, Frederick, we must beware of those who will harm us. We need to get to know one another and look out for each other’s back. And we have to grow to love one another.’

  ‘That won’t be difficult, my dear. You are a very sweet and beautiful person.’ They were under the covers now, and he had the superb sensation of her naked flesh touching his. There was no need for further words – only the kind that gave and accepted the pleasure of their union. Sinking himself into her, he felt that at this moment his world was complete, and gave himself to loving her with everything that was in him.

  At first he thought he would burst into her before he had satisfied her, but gaining control, he used skills that came naturally to him. Holding back increased his pleasure as he then allowed the urgency to build again, thrusting into her slowly and deeply until she cried tears of joy, which he knew held relief, too. Instinctively he knew she was spent, and now he could abandon all thought of trying to please her and enjoy all she had to offer and the sheer joy of coupling with a woman. The pleasure of this abandonment had him calling out. No words – just hollow animal-like sounds, as he tried to cope with wave after wave of thrills that were almost too much to bear.

  Katrina calling out his name – in a beautiful husky, but urgent voice – brought her back into his focus, and he realized he was pounding her unmercifully, but he couldn’t stop. It was the exquisite, almost unbearable explosion of himself into her that finally brought his movements to a halt and left him drained and exhausted, with his legs trembling and his breath labouring, as he gasped for air and for some hold on what had happened.

  Never, when relieving himself previously, had he known such intense pleasure at the moment of this release. How could he have forgotten experiencing it on his wedding night?

  Rolling off her, he pulled her to him, hoping that holding her told her of his love, as he found himself unable to speak. The silence lasted only a moment; her sobs broke it. They took away the euphoria and filled him with concern. ‘My dear, have I hurt you? Oh God, I am so sorry. I—’

  ‘No, no, I – I am not crying because I am hurt. That was wonderful, the best. I mean . . . Oh, I don’t know.’

  Turning towards her, he cradled Katrina closer to him. ‘Are you happy to be married to me? I know it was arranged and everything, and for reasons other than us falling in love, but I will be a good husband to you. We like each other; we are good with each other. Aren’t we? You said—’

  ‘We are. I’m sorry. I’ll be fine. It’s all new to me, that’s all.’

  ‘Me, too. But, for a couple of novices, I think we did all right. Come on, snuggle up, or am I supposed to leave you, now that I have had my conjugal rights?’

  ‘No, don’t leave. I feel safe with you here.’

  ‘Safe?’

  ‘I – I mean happy, relaxed. Oh, stop quizzing me. Talk of something else.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad you said that, as I do have something I want to tell you. You remember the family . . .’

  During his discussion her body stiffened, but nothing prepared him for Katrina’s reaction when he told her he’d engaged a private investigator and that one of the sisters was found.

  Pulling from his arms, she sat up and looked down on him. ‘How dare you do such a thing? It is preposterous! They . . .’

  Shocked, he listened to her raised voice telling of the distress it would bring her, for him to move his mistress into their home. Her tears were ones of pain now. Her words spat out, calling Amy and Ruth whores and telling him that she would not tolerate the situation.

  Getting out of the bed and grabbing his robe, he could only wait for her to finish. When she did, she trembled with sobs once more, but although he felt pity for her, her outburst had angered him. ‘Katrina, I do not have a mistress. What we just had together was my first experience – I mean, well, the first one I can remember. I am an honourable man, and it is not the place of my wife to tell me I can or cannot do something I wish to do. Your mother has let you down, in her upbringing of you. You should know that, yes, I will tell you of my plans, and yes, you can advise me, but the final decision in all matters is mine. And I will not be turned on this decision. I will bid you goodnight, and hope you have a restful one and that you will awaken in a better frame of mind!’

  ‘Don’t leave me. I – I’m sorry. I was told that you were in love with the one called Ruth.’

  ‘Good God, you believed Bellinger? Damn that man!’

  ‘Why should he say such a thing if—’

  ‘Stop it, Katrina! You either believe me or you believe him. I would hope you believe me. You have been a victim of Bellinger yourself, so you know what he is like. For my part, I have had enough – I cannot endure his interference in my affairs any longer. Tomorrow I will talk to him. I have no idea why he is acting like this. He used to be my best friend, for goodness’ sake! Now it is like he has some axe to grind and is using nasty tactics as his weapon with which to do so.’

  ‘No! No, you mustn’t . . . Please.’

  This was all beyond him. Sinking back onto the bed, he took her hands in his. ‘I understand why you are afraid of him, how he tried to ruin your reputation, but you have no need to be now. Neither of us has. Look, let’s get you to my hom
e. You will be away from Bellinger there. My mother will travel back with you, as I must spend some more time with your father at the mill. There is a lot for me to learn. You can spend your time familiarizing yourself with your new home and with the staff; and then, when I come to you, you can show me your visions of how you see each room. And we can make our plans from there. I will get Amy Dovecote and her friend over there, and you can ask our housekeeper to begin settling them in and teaching them the jobs she allocates to them, though it is my intention to have Amy schooled. She is very bright and, my dear, in the future we are going to need a governess for our children. I think she will be the perfect choice.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Please, Katrina, make your mind up after you meet them. They are nice; they have good manners for their class, and I am certain they did not mean to bring harm to my brother. I feel responsible for them.’

  Her nod didn’t hold any hint of her not meaning it. The movement caused a stray tear to plop onto her cheek. She looked afraid, vulnerable and lost. He’d made a mistake in not talking to her first. Oh, he knew she would still have objected and would probably have had a tantrum similar to the one she’d had just now, but at least she would have felt respected. Pulling her close again, he admitted as much to her and promised he would not act in that way again. ‘I’m a new husband, you know. I have some learning to do.’

  ‘And I’m a new wife, Frederick. And I have a lot to learn, too. I will go to your home, but please don’t be away long. And . . . will you stay with me tonight, please?’

  ‘I will. Hotch up, but I warn you, I snore louder than Humbug’s pigs, so on your head be it.’

  This sent her into a fit of giggles. ‘Humbug’s pigs?’

  He laughed with her as he told her the tale of one of his farmers who kept pigs and was called ‘Humbug’, as he always had one of those sweets in his mouth. ‘It isn’t just his pigs that snort, either; because of trying to speak while juggling the peppermint around his mouth, Humbug makes little pig noises the whole time he is talking to you!’ Demonstrating this increased Katrina’s laughter – a lovely, infectious sound that had him joining in. And in the way that folk do when they have come through a crisis, they giggled like children, and the silliness lightened the moment.