by Tia Siren
''Of course, sir,'' Jackson said, as he lifted his tiny frame out of the chair. As he turned his back on Peter, and walked towards the door, he smiled at Peter's explanation of his association with Miss Pemberly.
*****
Peter lifted the collar on his coat when he jumped out of the cab. A biting wind was blowing down Brook Street, and the cab had been unable to drop him right outside Claridges because some workmen were digging a hole. When he got to the Hotel, he saw the doorman in his top hat and yellow coat, carrying some cases for an elderly lady, who it seemed had brought her entire belongings with her to stay at the luxury hotel.
When he went inside, he marveled at the sheer beauty of the place. The floor looked like a giant chess board, with its black and white tiles. Immediately to the right was a staircase with an exquisite oak handrail held up by decorative metalwork. He was pleased to see the welcoming fireplace. He noted that the giant chandelier overhanging the entrance hall still hadn't fallen down, as he always imagined it would one day. He turned to the left and walked into the busy tea room. Claridges was expensive, but it was very popular with the wealthy London set.
He spotted Miss Pemberly, sitting at a small table, in the far corner of the room. As he made his way to her, he could see something was different about her. She was dressed in a maroon bonnet made of silk velvet. It had an pink ribbon tied around the crown and down under her chin. She wore a maroon dress with a square décolleté which showed of the tops of her ample breasts.
''Miss Pemberly, how are you?'' Peter said as he took her hand to his lips.
''Quite well, Lord Wallace. And how are you?''
''Fine, thank you that you ask.''
The two then burst into laughter at their pretense. ''You look lovely,'' Peter commented as he let his hand brush over hers.
''Thank you. And you Peter, look your dashing self, as always.''
''Can you stay tonight?'' he asked anxiously
''Yes. Oh Peter, it has been so long since we were able to sleep in the same bed. I have so missed you.''
''And I you, dear Charlotte. My heart aches for you every time we are apart. How cruel life has been to me. Why did the Lord see fit to have me married off before finding you?''
''I don't know my dear, and I weep almost daily at the situation. If I were wealthy, you could divorce her and come to me. As you know my late father made some terrible financial decisions, and things are really quite tight for me financially. How are your finances coming along now, after your difficulties?''
''Not as well as I'd hoped. I still rely on Emily's money. I only hope one day that my fortunes will change. If they do we can be united. Until that time, my dear Charlotte, I'm afraid we must content ourselves with infrequent encounters like this one.''
''How much is Emily actually worth?''
''A vast amount. Enough to buy this street.''
''We are in the middle of London, and this is a long street, she must indeed be very wealthy.''
''She is. But let’s not talk of Emily. I want to know about what you have been doing since we last met.''
Charlotte studied John, as he poured the tea. His dark hair was long and curly, and his sideburns wide. He was tall and she liked the way he dressed. Always in a tailcoat and a colored waist coat. Today it was green with gray stripes.
''How is your mother?''
''Quite well, thank you for asking. Although Moat Hall has become a burden since our finances became so depleted. We have had to let three maids go, and she has to run the house with just a skeleton staff, it really is quite difficult. Do you know I can see your house from my room? I have to lean out, and crane my neck somewhat, but If I do I can just see it. It isn't far over the fields.''
''No, as the crow flies it really isn't far. If you take the road though, I believe it is three miles.''
There was a brief pause in the conversation, while they decided what to choose from the waiter who'd appeared with a stand, full of delicious looking buns and cakes.
''Peter, have you booked a room for this evening?'' Charlotte asked, curious to know where they would be spending the night.
''Yes, at the Savoy. We will go there after we have finished tea. I have booked a splendid room overlooking the Thames.''
*****
Emily spent the evening as usual by the fire. She was halfway through a sampler of a vase of roses, and she wanted to get it finished before Christmas. Tilly had beaten Flossy to the warmest place in front of the fire and she was snoring. Flossy got up and walked to the door, ears pricked. All of a sudden she started to growl. Milly jumped up and ran to join her. Their growls turned into barks and it was more than Emily's ear could stand.
''Girls, stop that awful noise, at once,'' she said, as she got up from the sofa and shooed them away from the door. Milly wasn't pleased though, and she turned around and ran back to the door again. ''What on earth is the matter with you two?'' Emily asked.
When someone tapped on the window, Milly and Flossy became very animated and barked loudly. Emily parted the curtains slightly and peered outside but could see nobody. She must have been hearing things she thought, as she walked back to the sofa. When it happened again she rang for Joesph.
''Someone is throwing pebbles at the windows. It is upsetting the dogs, please go and see who it is, would you,'' she asked.
He returned a few minutes later. ''My Lady, Sir John is here.''
''Sir John, what on earth does he want at this time of the evening? I suppose you'd better show him in.'' Joseph looked down his nose as he beckoned Sir John into the drawing room.
''Sir John, what are you doing here, and why were you throwing pebbles at the window? You frightened the dogs.''
When he opened his mouth, Emily could tell he'd been drinking. ''I wanted to see you. You wouldn't come to dinner, so I have come to you.''
''You've been drinking. Why do you think I would want to sit with a drunk man?'' Emily chastised.
''Lady Emily, I know you are unhappy, I can see it in your eyes every time I talk to you. Your husband neglects you. He is always in London, leaving you here in the countryside with precious little to do. Let me sit with you, and keep you company.''
''Sir John, as much as I value your concern, I must tell you that I am perfectly happy to sit here, and enjoy my embroidery. I have my dogs for company. I am quite content.''
''But your husband treats you so badly. You are beautiful and delicate and you deserve much more. I could make you happy. Do you not miss the warmth of a man?''
Emily did indeed miss the warmth of a man, and felt uneasy that Sir John had touched upon the subject. He was a very handsome young man, and she had reluctantly admitted to herself, on more than one occasion, that she was tempted by him. Her young body craved the feel of a man, and being denied by her husband, was beginning to test her self-control.
''I am a married woman, Sir John, and as much as I value the conversations we have when we bump into each other, you should never confuse my friendly approach to you, as being anything other than that. I am happily married and my husband is a great man, of whom I will hear no ill. Now please leave before I ring for Joseph and ask him to evict you.
When he'd gone, Emily sat in front of the fire and trembled. She did not like confrontation. She rang Joseph and asked him to bring her a small glass of whiskey, to calm her nerves.
*****
Peter closed the curtains in the suit he had booked at London's most expensive hotel, and turned to the beautiful woman standing next to the bed. Charlotte had changed into a nightgown and he into a robe.
''Charlotte, you are beautiful,'' he said as he stepped towards her. Her nightgown was of the thinnest material, and the neckline plunged in a V shape between her breasts. The hem was finished six inches above her knees and the sight of her soft thighs made Peter's manhood stiffen. He took her in his arms and kissed her. As he did so, he ran his hands through her hair.
As they stood and kissed, his hand reached under the thin material she
was wearing, and slid up her thigh. When his hand slipped around and cupped a buttock, Charlotte sighed and pushed her pelvis against his manhood. She smiled when she felt his hardness poking through his robe, and into the V between her legs.
He lifted her off the ground as if she weighed nothing, and put her onto the bed. She looked up at him as he took off his robe, and stood naked before her. She wanted to run her hands over his broad chest and hard stomach, and to reach down and cup his considerable manhood.
Charlotte smiled up at him, as she invitingly raised the nightgown above her waist. When he saw the triangle of blonde hair between her legs, his penis became fully erect. When she opened her legs, and showed him her vulva, he quickly placed himself on top of her, and entered her. She gasped as he filled her and began to thrust. She ran her hands over his upper arms feeling the muscles talking the weight of his body, as he held himself above her. When he stopped thrusting, she intuitively knew he wanted to see her breasts. She pulled the night gown from her and threw it onto the floor. She had large breasts and her nipples looked up at him invitingly. His mouth was on them in the shortest of time as he began to thrust again.
Charlotte let out a moan of disappointment when he withdrew his penis from her, but soon sighed with pleasure, when she felt his mouth on her wet folds. She grasped his hair and let her fingers trace circles in it, as the tension in her belly mounted. When his tongue found her clitoris and stayed there, Charlotte clasped her legs shut against his head and came.
Before she had stopped shaking, he opened her legs as wide as he could and entered her again. She gasped and ran her hands over his strong back feeling his hot skin and the muscles below. When she reached under him and cupped his balls, Peter felt them tighten against his shaft as his spasms started. When he ejaculated into her, Charlotte held onto them, willing every last drop into her.
After their lovemaking, they slept in each other’s arms for two hours. When they woke, Peter ordered dinner and two bottles of champagne be sent to their room. They ate from silver trays and drank from fine crystal as they lay naked next to one another.
''You are a very good lover, Peter. I wish we could do this every day.''
''If we did it every day, it would become mundane, then you'd look for something else to excite you.''
''Why don't you leave her? We could be happy together.''
''We haven't a penny between us. How could we keep the lifestyle we have, without Emily's money. We would have to move into considerably smaller premises, and we would be frowned upon as paupers. No, I'm afraid I'm stuck with Emily, whether we like it or not.''
*****
Emily got up early and ate her usual breakfast. The dogs seemed more eager than usual to go for their morning walk, so she wrapped up well, and set of over the lawn, and through the gate into the field where the horses grazed in summer. There had been a keen frost, and the dogs left their footprints in the ice as they chased a few rabbits. She walked to the end of the first field and climbed over a wooden fence into the next. The dogs squeezed under the fence and continued their chase. Halfway across the field it began to slope quite steeply and she had a lovely view of the village below. The village was built along a single road, and Emily watched as a horse and cart made its way from one end of the village to the other. When she looked to the right, she saw Sir John's house. Why would anyone want to live alone in such a large house, she thought? She remembered his visit the previous evening, and how lonely she'd felt. A drunken man had been in her house and propositioned her, and her husband had not been there to protect her.
Emily walked down the hill to the end of the field, and followed a stream. She stopped, and watched the dogs as they splashed around in the water. When they got out and shook themselves, they send a fine jet of spray over Emily before she could jump out of the way. They continued their walk along the stream and crossed a wooden foot bridge into the village. There wasn't a soul to be seen. Emily turned left and walked out of the village and past a large house called Moat Hall, the home of Charlotte Pemberly and her mother. Emily noticed how the house seemed to be rather dilapidated, and wondered why. When Mr. Pemberly had been alive, the place was always well maintained. She hadn't seen Charlotte for a long time, not that they were friendly, but they had chatted on the odd occasion their paths had crossed at the village shop.
Shortly after the Pemberly's, she took the lane that led back up the hill, all the way to her house. When she arrived back, the dogs made straight for a large drinking bowl in the servants courtyard, and Emily went through the front door.
''James,'' she shrieked. ''Heavens, it's so nice to see you. What a lovely surprise. What is my little brother doing here? I thought you were bashing the enemy in France with your regiment?''
''Hello, Emily. It's nice to see you too. Although I am not sure the term little brother applies anymore,'' he said, as he looked down from a great height onto the top of her head. ''I have some leave, and I thought I would come and see you and Peter.''
''Splendid, how long have you got?''
''I can stay this evening, after that I'm going to see Harriet before I have to go back.''
''And who is Harriet, may I ask? Do I hear wedding bells?'' Emily laughed.
''Not yet. Harriet Brown lives in Uppingham. She's the sister of a friend I was with at Sandhurst.''
''And is she pretty?''
''Prettier than I deserve. Oh sister, I don't have the vocabulary to express how much I love her.''
''Then I am pleased for you, for you both. Now let me ring for Joseph, and get us a cup of tea. I'm quite exhausted after my walk.''
James and Emily spent the afternoon talking and playing cards. Peter arrived home just before dark. The dogs made a great fuss of him at the door as Joesph took his coat from him. When he walked into the drawing room, he greeted James and pecked Emily on the cheek. She had been hoping he would kiss her on the lips. When James and Peter became locked in a debate about the war with Napoleon, Emily decided she would go upstairs and get ready for dinner.
When she entered the bedroom, she almost fell over Peter's night case. Joseph had left it in silly place, she would have a word with him, she thought. As she fiddled with her hair, her eyes kept looking at the bag. Each time, she ignored the voice in her head, until she no longer could. She got up from the dressing table, picked the bag up and placed it on the ottoman at the end of the bed. She undid the buckles, and looked inside. She pulled out the shirt Peter had worn the previous day, and put it to her nose.
''James would you fill my glass again please,'' Emily asked her brother, when they were sitting at the dinner table. He obliged and Emily downed her second drink, in one.
''Steady on, you'll get drunk drinking at that rate,'' James said.
''Well you're here, and I want to celebrate the fact. I do miss you, and I worry about you. I hope France will fall soon. That that will put an end to these ridiculous wars.''
''I'll drink to that,'' James said as he raised a glass.
When Peter raised his glass, he avoided Emily's eyes. Emily stared at him.
''Peter, we have been invited to a ball,'' she said.
''Where and why?''
''It's at the Sutherland's, their daughter will be twenty one.''
''Really? What a dreadful bore that will be.''
''Peter, you are no fun. It will be just what you need to cheer you up.''
''Cheer me up? There's nothing wrong with me.''
''You have had a face like a wet Sunday since you came home. Everybody will be there. All local society. I have already said we will go, so you must come.''
''Very well. If you insist.''
*****
Peter walked the same way as Emily had done the day before, only at the wooden bridge, he turned right and walked through the village. After he'd passed the last house, he turned right and took a short lane that led to Bead House. Peter was amazed to see so many workmen around the place. It must be costing a fortune, he thought. Peter had always f
ound the thirteenth century mansion eerie. It was tucked back into a wood and it was damp and dark.
He walked up to the front door, which was wide open shouted, ''Sir John.''
Sir John appeared from a room at the back of the hallway. Peter noticed how hungover he looked. His eyes were bloodshot and when he came closer he could smell alcohol.
''Peter, splendid. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?''
''I want to talk to you about your investments.''
''Then you'd better come in.'' Peter followed him across the entrance hall, down a corridor and into a study. It was the most untidy office Peter had ever been in. The desk was piled high with old newspapers, and empty whiskey bottles. The fireplace hadn't been cleaned out for days, and a fat cat lay on the only chair in the room. Sir John shook the chair, and the cat reluctantly got up, stretched and jumped down.
''Please sit down, Peter.''
Peter looked at the hairs on the seat and declined. ''I need to talk to you about the investments we made on your behalf in the Beaufort Hotel Project.''
''What about it?''
''The stocks have lost seventy five percent of their value.''
Sir John slumped down into the chair. ''How the hell could that have happened?''
''Quite simple really. As I remember I warned you at the time that this was an investment with high risk. When you invested, the hotel hadn't been built and, of course, there was no way of knowing how it would perform once it was finished. Now the hotel stands in the middle of London, and it seems few people want to visit it. The expected profits haven't materialized, and therefore the stocks have become far less valuable. This was an investment for someone with limitless means, someone who could risk some capital. Not for someone like you, Sir John.''
''Do you think there is any possibility the stocks may once again rise in value.''