Sir John had a splitting headache and couldn’t remember a thing, but Emily was such a good actress, he believed he had done the things she said he had.
”Please, Sir John, you told me last evening that you propose to….let’s call it…..meet my husband on Sunday. Please don’t disappoint me, because after he is gone, I will be yours, to do as you please with.”
When he left, Emily had all the bed sheets and blankets washed, and the bedroom cleaned from top to bottom.
*****
Peter lay with his head on Charlotte’s lap as the coach made its way from London.
”I can’t travel all the way to the village with you. You must set me down a mile away so nobody sees us. I will walk the rest of the way back to Sedgefield House.”
”Of course,” Charlotte said, as she stroked his head.
The road from London to Sedgefield House was a journey of around thirty miles and took three hours. For the most part it was open countryside and the roads were reasonably passable. Things changed when the road passed through Finchley Wood. A passage of around three miles. The trees stopped sunlight from drying the road, and it was often wet and rutted.
When they reached the forest, the coachman slowed the horses to a walk and everybody clung to a hand rail, as the coach swung from left to right, through the rutted ground.
After two miles, the coachman was pleased with his progress. But he shouted out when he saw a hooded man on a black horse, standing in front of the coach, pointing a pistol at him.
”Put your hands up and get down,” he said. The coachman got down and stood next to one of the horses. ”Get the people out of the coach,” the rider demanded. The coachman went to the door and knocked. The two lovers had the curtain down, and weren’t aware why the coach had stopped.
Peter opened the door and saw a man pointing a pistol at him. ”What on earth are you doing, sir?” he asked.
”Get out of the coach and kneel down over there,” he pointed to a place next to a tree. ”If you refuse I will shoot you. You do the same,” he said to the coachman. ”Charlotte stay in the coach.”
Peter walked to the place the man had asked him to and knelt. The coachman knelt next to him. When Peter felt the pistol touch his skull he started to pray.
From somewhere in the forest there was a bang and a flash. The robber cried out in agony, and fell down next to Peter. Peter grabbed the pistol and stood up. The man was holding his knee. It was almost completely blown away. When Peter bent down and removed the robber’s hood, he gasped. The coachman ran after Charlotte, and knocked her to the ground. Her screams frightened the birds from the trees, as he pulled her by the hair back to the coach.
When two horsemen appeared from the forest Peter thought they were Sir John’s accomplices.
”Get down from your horses, this instant,” he told them as he pointed the pistol at them. ”James,” he exclaimed, as Emily’s brother took off his hood. When Emily took of her hood, his mouth fell open. What is happening?” he asked totally confused.
”I’ll tell you what is happening,” Emily said. “Sir John and Miss Pemberly have been plotting to kill you. I found out about it, and as I am unable to shoot, I asked James to help me. As you can see by the state of Sir John’s knee, he is an extremely accomplished marksman. These two wanted to kill you so that Sir John could marry me, and take my wealth.”
Peter looked at Charlotte, who was being held firmly by the coachman. She dropped her eyes from him. ”Emily I…….I don’t know…..what ……to”
”James will go and fetch the police, once these two have been arrested, you will come back to Sedgefield House with me.”
*****
They arrived home in the dark. Peter rode James’ horse home. James had taken a lift to London with the police. When Joseph opened the door, Emily nodded to him in recognition of the part he had played in foiling Sir John’s evil plot.
”Joseph was a great help in foiling the attempt on your life, my dear,” she said.
”Thank you, Joseph. I am not fully aware of the details, but my wife will no doubt inform me. I will see you handsomely rewarded for you efforts.”
”There is really no need, my lord,” Joseph said in his usually modest fashion.
”Joseph, please bring two whiskeys into the drawing room. This time two real ones.”
”Now, Peter. Come and sit next to me,” Emily said as Peter attempted to sit in his usual place. ”From now on you will sit next to me in the evenings.”
”Emily, I am so sorry for what I have done. I have been a fool. You are beautiful and clever and I have ignored you and behaved terribly badly.”
”It is no matter, Peter. I will always do everything in my power to protect our marriage, even if that means asking my brother to shoot someone. You are a very special man, I adore you, and I love you more than I can bear. All I ask is that you please try to love me back.”
”Oh Emily, I do. Until this evening, I didn’t realize how much you mean to me. I do love you.”
”Then let’s finish our drinks and you can take me to bed and prove your love to me.”
*****
When Peter took off his shirt and dropped his trousers to the floor, Emily could see how much he desired her. It was the first time in many weeks that she had seen his hard shaft. When she let her nightgown drop to the floor, Peter could see how ready she was for him. The soft curls between her legs shone with her desire and her nipples were erect.
They came into each other’s arms and kissed. It was too much for Peter, who was so racked with guilt that a tear escaped from his eye and rolled over his cheek. Emily watched it until it reached his jaw, then she liked it from him. Peter was overcome with desire and love. He picked her up and carried her to the bed. They lay next to each other and kissed. Emily loved the feeling as his penis rubbed against her soft thigh.
He got up and crawled to the end of the bed. He took Emily by the ankles and spread her legs wide apart. As he looked at her womanhood, his hard member twitched. He bent down between her legs and without delay licked the length of her vulva. Emily cried out and thrust her hips up from the bed. He licked her again. When his mouth fixed over her clitoris, and his tongue began to make tiny movements on her, she gasped and pulled his hair. As his tongue stayed fixed to the same spot, Emily felt the muscles in her belly tighten. When Peter did what he had never done before, Emily’s orgasm hit her. His tongue on her clitoris and two fingers deep inside her, was too much.
She lay back and enjoyed the waves that made her body tremble. When they began to wane she pushed him onto his back, and took him into her mouth. He tasted salty and the scent of his sweat made her ache to be filled by him. She placed her hands on his strong thighs and felt the coarseness of the hair which covered them. As her head bobbed up and down, Peter played with her blonde hair. Soon it became too much for him and he pushed her head from him. As he lay her down, her legs fell open. He entered her without assistance in one hard thrust. As he parted his wife’s sex, she groaned and thrust back at him, willing him on. As well as an over whelming feelings of love, Peter felt an overbearing sense of guilt. As he pushed into her he gritted his teeth and willed the feeling away. Emily looked up and saw his forehead covered in sweat. She ran her hand over it and licked his salty juice from her palm.
”Emily, I love you,” he said. She had waited a long time to hear him utter those words, and she basked in the effect it had on her body and her mind. She wanted to feel his love flowing into her now and she matched him with her hip movements. When she tightened the muscles in her vagina, he pushed into her twice more and cried out her name. Emily put her hands onto his chest and screamed as his seed triggered another orgasm.
*****
When James knocked at the door to Sedgefield House, it was snowing.
”Look mummy, it’s Uncle James.”
; ”My, my, you two are growing up.”
”Have you brought some Christmas presents for us?” Harriet asked.
”Harriet, don’t be so rude,” Emily said.
”Yes, don’t be so rude,” little James added. ”Have you though?”
”Who’d have a three year old and a five year old?” Emily asked James.
”Uncle James is a hero,” Harriet said. ”Mummy told me.”
Peter walked into the room. ”James, Merry Christmas.” he said to his brother in law. ”Yes Harriet, Uncle James is indeed a hero,” he added.
A Duchess in Distress (by Sarah Thorn)
Annabelle Catesby sat before a plate of untouched food at lunch time. Her mind was on one thing, and one thing only. There was a ball later on that evening. But it wasn’t just any ball, it was the most important ball of the year, and possibly, of her life. Of course, some would think that no ball was important, but Annabelle was not one of them. She was Anna to her family and friends, a beautiful girl of nineteen with an overprotective father and a mother who doted upon her only daughter. She had two brothers, both older, both young men working with her father at his business, each of them learning so that they may run it themselves one day.
For Annabelle’s part, she didn’t quite know what her father did. She knew it was something like banking, but not exactly that. He loaned large sums of money to people sometimes, often if they were trying to open a business themselves. The whole world bored Anna, and she stayed out of it.
Anna liked nature. She spent hours upon hours atop a horse, or walking through the woods which surrounded her father’s lavish home and grounds. Her eldest brother Edwin had even taught her to fish, and though her mother looked down upon it, Annabelle did so in the small pond on the grounds as often as she could, when weather was permitting.
She would miss the pond most of all, if she wasn’t taking people into account, but she was ready to leave. And the ball had finally come, and that meant she would perhaps have a chance to find a husband.
The petite young girl had caught the eyes of men since she was just fourteen. But in the recent years, sideways glances at her large, perky breasts had become something else entirely. First it was requests to dance, and then it was men calling at her home for her. And for the past two years, there had been the proposals.
Henry Catesby, Annabelle’s father, had built such an impressive business for himself that it had done wonders for his social standing. He had been raised poor himself, and he had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t put his own children through that. And so he hadn’t, and in his late fifties he commanded a certain respect that was shared with his wife and children as well. Anna would not be marrying just anyone, the offers she had received had been from men of great standing. Nobility. Dukes.
Last year at Lady Patterson’s annual dance, Annabelle had been proposed to by Colonel Warren, a man of thirty-three who had no doubt had his eye on the young girl for quite some time, judging by how often he came by to see her.
Anna liked the man, found him to be attractive and kind, and she was eager to marry. She saw how happy her mother was, how fulfilled she was to be a mother and a wife, and she had yearned for the same for years. But her father had forbade it.
Anna spoke to him that same night, a year previous, in his study after the ball. Hot tears had streamed down her face, leaving trails down her cheeks which shone in the soft light of a single candle, burning on her father’s desk top.
“Please, daddy,” she had pleaded.
“You are too young,” her father had said. He was a tall man with a bushy moustache, though he had no hair upon his head.
“I am eighteen!” she said. “A woman grown!”
“No to me,” her father had said, and then he looked to see his daughter crying, having been previously staring out the window, and his hardness vanished in an instant. When he spoke again his voice was softer, gentler. “A year from now. Alright, my daughter? My beautiful little girl? That is what you are to me, even now, so grown and amazing. You will always be my little girl, running around in this home, getting underfoot. But that is not fair to you. This ball, it is every year, the same date, yes?”
Anna nodded her head, and used the back of her hand to wipe away the tears.
“And then next year, at this ball, if a man wants your hand, and you’re willing to give it, I will not stop you.”
And so it had been, and for a few months after the conversation, Annabelle gave herself to a string of daydreams and hopes, wishing that Colonel Warren would ask her again. The young woman was worried he would ask someone else, but instead he lost his life. It was an accident out of the city, something the Colonel had been doing with his men, but he went out alive and came back dead, and Annabelle found herself mourning him. He was going to be her husband. She had thought about it so often, and though she didn’t know the man well, she had grieved for him.
But the sadness ebbed, and as the ball had drawn close, her dizziness returned. The deceased Colonel hadn’t been the first man to propose to her, and he wouldn’t be the last. She was sure of it.
“You are not eating,” her father said to her, from over his own bowl of soup.
“My stomach is in knots,” Annabelle said.
“You think you will be engaged tonight,” her father said in a knowing tone.
“As if father would be so lucky, to get you taken off his hands,” Annabelle’s brother, Reginald, said. He was two years younger than Edwin, and still lived at home, while Edwin had been married for three years, and had his own home elsewhere outside of London, in the same green fields and pastures where Henry’s home was built.
“I’ll marry before a woman will accept your proposal,” Anna said, glaring across the table to her brother.
“You two bicker too often,” Anna’s mother said quietly, and both of her children bowed their heads slightly.
“Eat,” Henry said, and Anna lifted her spoon to her mouth, knowing there was no sense in arguing with her father. “You do not want to waste away,” he said with a laugh as he watched her. With each bite she took, Annabelle realized just how hungry she was, and through her nerves were on edge, she cleaned her plate and bowl, and then hurried upstairs to begin getting ready for the most important evening of her life.
*****
The excited young woman knew that it would take hours for her to be ready, so though the ball didn’t begin until eight, she didn’t dawdle in the bath. Anna washed herself quickly after the brass tub was filled with hot water that almost boiled by two servants, and then she was out, allowing a young girl to wrap her in a towel. She went back to her room and was surprised to see Mrs. Clack there. Mrs. Clack had been Anna’s chaperone to all of her social gatherings since she had first developed under her corsets and under her gowns, and men began to lust after her. Mrs. Clack oversaw the servants in the Catesby household, and had done so since before Anna was born. She was a short woman of lean frame, with a severe and hooking nose like a hawk’s, the only thing which marred a rather pretty face. Her eyes were icy blue and her hair as fair as an early morning sunrise.
She was married to Mr. Clack, who had been the groundsman of the manor for just as long as Mrs. Clack had been overseer. They had been hired separately, and met on Mrs. Clack’s first day, as they enjoyed telling the Catesby children every few months. They lived together in a small cabin in the southern corner of the grounds, and had both grown to be a part of the family, as much as they were hired help.
“I thought you may want to ready yourself early,” the older woman said.
Annabelle smiled. “I wish to look my best.”
“You wish to find a husband,” Mrs. Clack said.
Anna thought there was a gleam in the woman’s eye, which might have been a teary mist in her gaze. “You cry Mrs. Clack?” Anna placed her hand upon the older woman’s arm. �
�I did not mean to upset you.”
Mrs. Clack laughed and wiped away the tears. “Silly girl, it is not sadness, but an overwhelming sense of pride I have for you,” she said. “Your mother feels the same. We spoke of it earlier, and I know she will want to see you off. When you come home, neither of us doubt that it will be as a woman engaged. I can remember bathing you myself, you know.”
Annabelle smiled and nodded. “As can I. Mother and you both often.”
“You were that much of a handful,” Mrs. Clack teased.
“You know, I think of you as a second mother,” Annabelle told the woman, and she could see the effect her words had on her instantaneously.
Mrs. Clack beamed, her eyes widening, her mile spreading to show an almost impossible number of teeth. She had no children of her own, and had become attached to Annabelle in particular, since she was the only daughter out of three children. Anna’s mother had never been the kind of woman to leave it all to the servants, but she had always allowed Mrs. Clack a bit of space and time with her daughter, because Mrs. Clack had been told at a young age that it would be unlikely for her to conceive, and that had proven true.
“I thought you might want to wear this,” Mrs. Clack said, turning and marching to the armoire. She opened the heavy oak doors and reached inside. The gown she collected was gorgeous, a light blue color that shimmered as it turned in the light. The neck was a low cut scoop, and the sleeves were ruffled and fell to the wrist. Down the front of the gown were pale white bows.
“It’s my favorite, you know that,” Annabeth said with a soft smile.
“And mine too,” the old woman said. “Let’s get you ready, shall we?”
Anna dressed in small clothes first, and then let Mrs. Clack help her wiggle into a corset. She sat on the edge of her bed, keeping her back stiff and straight while the old woman sat behind her, and pulled the wide ribbon at the back, tightening the corset and forcing it to give Anna a pleasing hourglass shape.
Romance: Detective Romance: A Vicious Affair (Victorian Regency Intrigue 19th England Romance) (Historical Mystery Detective Romance) Page 50