by Smith, Skye
Jon and Britta looked at each other. Could it be that Red had not been told who the lawyers were?
"Lawyers, bah, Harvard types, bloody scoundrels," said Red quietly in case someone heard. "should all be horse-whipped. Jon, the pissoir is around the back as I recall?" He left by the front door and they watched him turn the corner through the windows.
"He doesn't know that the Caucus meet here, and he must never know," said Lydia. "He is trying to get into business with the governor's son. The one who is a new Company consignee." Britta and Jon just nodded their understanding.
Lydia held out a card to Britta. "Since I mustn't come here to visit, then you must visit me. The address is on this card. The same card will gain you entry to the house. Oh, and please don't dress in Puritan drab. That just wouldn't do." She reached out for Jon's hand, "And you, my dear, must never, ever be alone with me again. I am married now, and Red is dangerously possessive."
Jon was about to complain but he saw Red coming back around the corner. "He's back."
Red was eager to go so they did not stay much longer. Lydia whispered to Britta as she left, "I'll make sure he stays away from here. If you visit me tomorrow, be aware that there is a formal dinner to introduce us to the Governor, so dress accordingly. The turquoise gown will do splendidly."
* * * * *
"It is a simple question," Britta stamped a foot impatiently and stared at the men in the committee room. "Do you want me to attend the Governor's dinner or not?" She really wanted to go. She wanted so much to dress up and be dazzling in turquoise once more.
Samuel and Daniel looked at each other. Britta was asking their permission because she did not want to risk upsetting an organization that accounted for over half of her earnings. It was a decision they must weigh carefully in view of the risks.
"I say, 'yes'," said Daniel, "but only if I drive her there and vait for her outside to bring her home. I will borrow a hackney shay and pretend to be a hired driver."
"I don't like it," mumbled Sam. "She knows an awful lot about our operation. You think it is safe to send her into the lair of the lion."
"It could be vorth it. I vould love to know the names of the people that attended," replied Daniel thoughtfully.
Sam ducked a bit to look Britta directly in the eyes. "You must promise to play the role of a typical empty-headed rich man's daughter. It may help if you pretend that you can neither read nor write. No arguing about slavery, no politics, in fact keep your lips buttoned and just smile a lot and listen. If you can bring us the names of all who attended, that is enough."
Britta suddenly realized what was happening. She was about to be used as a spy. She wanted to protest and say she would not spy for these men, but that would have been false. If she happened to hear something in the market that was of importance, she would tell them. What difference that she may hear it at the Governor's table? She looked at Daniel. "You fear for my safety. Should I go armed?"
"Absolutely not," replied Daniel. "You must rely on the veapons your goddess gave you. That is vhy I vill vait for you. If you feel fearful or threatened at any time, then just feign sickness and find me at the shay. I vill protect you."
* * * * *
As Daniel drove Britta up to the gate, she saw a company of Austrian mercenaries guarding the house. House - compared to this estate, Lydia's mansion was a hut. At the gate to the long driveway, Britta showed her card to the gate keeper and he waved to some Austrians to open it.
"Here, you," the gatekeeper said to Daniel "no hacks allowed to stay on the grounds. You drop the lady and then you clear out of it." Daniel looked very much like a hack driver with his dusty cloak and a hack's hat and scarf.
Daniel pulled through the gate and when they were out of earshot he swore. "I didn't think of that. I vill not drop you if I cannot stay close. I vill just pull through and then ve vill leave. Think of some excuse for not staying."
Britta couldn't believe her ears. She had spent most of the day preparing herself for this visit. Her hair by itself had taken an hour. She was wearing the fabulous gown of turquoise silk under her cloak, complete with matching necklace. These people were Anglicans, not Puritans, so she spent an hour carefully removing the 'modesty lace' from around the neckline so that she showed more cleavage. What possible excuse could she give for not stopping? No, she was here and ready and she was determined to visit with Lydia.
There were guards around the front door and beyond them the private shays and carriages were parked. A very tall and elegant captain was standing with his men. Before Daniel realized what she was doing, she waved to the captain to come close. Daniel hid his face in the shadow of his scarf. "Captain, how delightful to see you again," she said with a winning smile. "Could you please help me down."
His strong arms allowed her to descend with grace, "Of course Captain, you will not recognize me hidden in my cloak." She loosened the toggles and pushed her cloak open so that he could see some of the delicious turquoise silk, and her neckline. "You taught me the waltz at the Austrian ball. I am Britta. Now do you remember me?"
"How could I forget you? You were my best pupil," he said clicking his heels in a salute and then bowing slightly to kiss her hand, and of course, enjoy the view down her cleavage. He raised his eyes to catch hers, "And the prettiest."
Britta held his eyes for a moment, and then turned to Daniel and said in a bitchy voice, "Don't you dare disappear while I am inside. I don't want you taking other fares and leaving me stranded way out here. That was our agreement and I will hold you to it."
Daniel caught her tone and was quick to reply, "Lady, you could be hours and hours in there. I could have a dozen other fares back in town. I'll be back, I promise."
"Captain, dear," she said pulling his hand to her chest, "please order your men not to allow this shay to leave without me." She fluttered her eyelashes.
"I will have him whipped if he moves," he said as he sneered at Daniel. "Come, take my arm and I will present you," he said charmingly. "It was Britta, ahh my memory."
"Britta Fisher."
"Of course. Do you have one of my cards? Here is another," he said and he did a waltz step to see if she would follow it and she did, with a swirl. He remembered now what a delight she had been to dance with. So light on his feet, compared to some of the other cows he had taught that night.
* * * * *
Lydia and Red's bedroom suite must have been one of the largest in this mansion, likely because they had brought the babies. Red was still out with the men, shooting or something, and the babies were with a nanny so Britta had Lydia all to herself.
"Hang that gown up until dinner is called, love," said Lydia, and moved behind her to unlace the bodice. Her own gown was hung ready to be put on, and she was wearing just a silk slip while she finished her hair and her rouge.
Britta welcomed the uncinching. and struggled out of the bodice. Her own silk slip was a hand-me-down from Lydia, like the gown. She so enjoyed the feeling of silk against her skin. Even if she could never afford to replace the silk gown, she would always own at least one silk slip. She felt Lydia pulling the slip off along with the gown and tried to free a hand to pull it back up.
"No," whispered Lydia, "let me look at your skin again. You are very pretty girl, but your best feature is not your eyes or your smile. It is your honey-colored skin." Lydia pulled at her own slip and it fell down to her waist. "See the difference between my skin and yours? Mine looks like the belly of a fish compared to yours. Mine goes pink and then red in the sun, whereas yours turns to a darker honey color." She caught Britta's eyes and stared into the violet flecks.
Britta stood still and looked at Lydia's body. Then she raised her hands, her healing hands and she hovered them around Lydia's neck and shoulders, and slowly down to her breasts. Almost all of her baby weight was gone, except for her magnificent breasts.
Lydia moaned. "Oh, I had forgotten the feeling from your hands. It is like there is a soft warm sunbeam shining through me." She re
ached forward and touched Britta's soft skin and tried to turn this feeling into a hug. The sunbeam feeling stopped. "Oh dear, I forgot, sorry." When you actually touch, the magic feeling disappears. She tried to pull Britta into her arms, into her breasts, but the girl leaned away.
"Lydia," Britta whispered. "The healing touch may feel like love should feel, but it is not love. That is the healing goodness you feel. Don't get carried away." The warning was deserved. Lydia was a very sensual, sexual woman, with a healthy appetite for the pleasures of the flesh. "I will hug you as a sister," Britta whispered as she pulled away to pull up her slip.
Lydia pulled up her own slip and then put her arms around her and hugged her into them. Silk against silk, breast against breast. They stood silently for a long time, feeling each other's skin, each other's warmth, each other's heartbeat. "Does Jim feel the healing power of your hands?"
"It effects men differently from women. Women take it into their hearts, men into their cocks. He never gives it a chance to build because, boing, he gets hard, and then grabs me. As you said, the magic feeling is gone with first touch."
"I never realized how much I have been missing you until just now," whispered Lydia. "We lived as close as sisters for almost a year. I had never had a sister before you, and now, now that we are together again, I want more of you. More time together." They sat next to each other on the bed but still hugging.
"You were the one who ordered us to stay away from the farm."
"Not you so much as Jon." She smiled ruefully. "But where one of you is, the other goes. I could not trust myself around Jon, and Red is a very possessive man."
"Why did you marry him?" asked Britta.
"Hah, from the moment he set eyes on Robby's red hair, it was a given. He can be very charming and convincing, as you well know. He is my closest neighbor, and my confidant in business. First he romanced me, then he bedded me, then I relented. Oh well, he is a better husband than my last one, and after all, they are both his children."
"How did you lose the baby weight so quickly?" asked Britta.
"The coca matea. It curbs the cravings of an empty stomach. Each time I was hungry I drank some matea and the hunger went away." Lydia puffed their pillows so they could sit back against the bedstead. She put her arm behind Britta to keep her hugged close.
Britta felt Lydia's hand touch her and then caress her skin. A woman’s hand was smaller and softer than a man's. It felt nice. "But what of baby Grace? If you are not eating, then what of your milk?"
Lydia sat forward on the bed and turned to face her. She grabbed both of Britta's hands and put them underneath her breasts so that she could feel the weight of them. "Do those feel like I am starving my child?"
"You always did have wonderful breasts. You broke Jon's heart, you know" Britta whispered. "He is still in love with you."
"And I with him" Lydia said, "Don't look so shocked. Your brother has a gentle touch, and he knows how to pleasure a woman. He is a phenomena amongst men. A man who knows what women want."
"Then why settle for Red? You had Jon. He worships you."
"Think about it. Jon is seven years younger than me, and at that time he was my bond servant. I had two children by another man. It was never meant to be." Lydia found the violet flecks in Britta's eyes again and lost herself looking into them. "Will you take something to Jon for me?" and with that she leaned forward and kissed her. Kissed her long. Kissed her like a lover. "Take that to Jon."
Britta panted to catch her breath. Her breasts were heaving, her nipples hard, and she was flushing, flushing everywhere. "I cannot. I cannot kiss my brother like that."
"Then I must take it back," said Lydia with a mischievous grin and she leaned forwards and kissed Britta again, but this time without the lust. Just a shared kiss for a sister.
* * * * *
* * * * *
MAYA'S AURA - Destroy the Tea Party by Skye Smith
Chapter 18 - Britta becomes a Spy
Britta looked around at the sound of a rattle of the locked door knob, followed by a loud rap at the door and Red's voice called through it. "Open up. I'm running late and I need to dress for dinner. "
The two women scrambled madly and guiltily to make themselves decent for a man's company. Lydia stalled Red by saying, "No you don't. You're not bringing those fouled hunting clothes into this bedroom. Strip in the hall and then I will open the door."
It did not buy them much time because the next knock was almost immediate. Lydia unbolted the door and stood back, and it swung open and Red marched in wearing only some silky shorts and carrying his guns. Behind him was a pile of rawhide clothes that actually looked quite new and clean.
Red laid the guns across a bench and then took a long look at Britta standing at the mirror pinning up her hair dressed only in a silk slip. "So nice to see you again, Britta, all of you." He walked over to his wife but his eyes never strayed from the blonde looking back at him through the mirror. He gave Lydia a kiss on the lips and moved his lips down to her neck, and all the while he was fondling her breasts shamelessly. "Were you two waiting for me?" He rubbed the obvious point in his shorts against Lydia's slip. "For I am ready."
"Have you forgotten that I am no longer a bond servant, and that I am engaged to be married?" hissed Britta.
"And probably still a virgin," Red moaned watching Britta's breasts jiggle under the silk. "The bloody Puritan prig doesn't deserve so much woman."
"Behave," said Lydia, "she is in this house as our guest, and as a free woman."
"I'd like to be in our guest," snickered Red, still leering at Britta. "Look how she pumps me up."
Lydia gave it a squeeze and said, "Not now. We have just enough time to dress before dinner. Wear your new suit, the one with the military cut." Lydia joined Britta at the mirror and they helped each other to speed things up. She called to her husband, "Did you do any hunting or did you talk banking?"
"Well," said Red, "considering I was there with the Company's chosen seven, as well as the six richest moneylenders in town, what do you think? We shot the guns just to empty them." He absent mindedly picked up the paper that gave him tonight's seating arrangement, and glanced at it just to remind himself of all the names.
He threw it on the dresser in front of Lydia so she could refresh her memory too. Lydia saw Britta craning her neck to read it and she smiled to herself.
* * * * *
They were late joining the procession to the table and arrived last. Red, with a beautiful young woman on each arm, was the envy of every man in the dining room. The men were all still standing waiting for their wives to sit. The hostess came quickly to Britta and, taking her arm, guided her to an empty seat beside a constipated-looking fat middle aged man. "Peter's wife is eight months pregnant so she could not attend," she explained. "We are so happy that you could join us, for you keep the seating balanced."
Britta cursed under her breath. She had been looking forward to sitting beside Lydia and chatting with her all the night. Instead she had to sit between two fat and unappealing men. The kind of men that long ago she learned to never, ever be caught alone with. It took her some effort to sit. The gown was designed for standing and dancing, not sitting. Once the gown was safely arrayed around her and out of the way, Peter sat and then, as she had expected, he shuffled his chair closer to her.
She looked around the room, dismissing all the men as boring, but was fascinated by the women. There were no raving beauties, yet none that were ugly, though some would have been thought a bit horsy. The horsier of them must have been heiresses to have attracted such well-connected men as husbands.
Their clothes were exquisite, and their jewels to die for. They were all tasty in their glorious colors and fabrics. Some were in bad taste because their pieces clashed. Some were in good taste with everything in harmony. None of them were tasteless in Puritan drab. With clothes, any taste, whether good or bad, was preferable to an absence of taste such as a black dress.
Last month Britta w
ould have said simply that they were showing off their wealth, but for a month now Mercy had been teaching her new words to use in her love letters to Jim. She thought for a moment and came up with the phrase: 'They were abundantly adorned in unapologetic opulence.' She giggled to herself and committed it to memory so she could tell it to Mercy.
Their hostess, the long-nosed daughter-in-law of the governor, had spared no expense on the decor of the room, or on the dressing of the table. She looked at the array of silverware in front of her and immediately started to wrack her memory for the purpose of each. On Lydia's farm she had once learned the purpose of all the cutlery of a formal table. She learned it from the Black children who were in training for serving in grand houses such as this.
In fact, some of those children could be serving here now. There were an inordinate number of Blacks present in the dining room to serve. She assumed they were all slaves, since none of these wealthy couples were Puritan or Quaker.
Her first words to Peter were, "This house has so many slaves. I suppose that is due to its size."
He bent his face closer and replied, "Not at all. The hostess gift from each couple was to bring one of their own slaves to help with the serving." He leered down her frontage. She had wonderful skin. At first he thought that she used an amber-colored dusting powder, but then he realized that it was her natural coloring. He placed a hand on her knee to see how she would respond.
Britta felt the hand on her knee and reached under and slapped it. Peter removed it, but she could still feel the ends of his fingers touching her leg. Her attention was drawn away from it by the sounding of a gong, and a slave man with a wonderful deep and vibrant voice called out that the first course would be a gourd soup with bacon and coriander. Four older slave women entered the room carrying soup tureens and ladles.