“That is a remarkable piece, Dash, far more detailed than any I have seen before.”
~~~~~
Dash ran a hand over it, removing the last of the dust, and smiled at Alex’s words.
“It is beautifully carved. The man who made this is, in my opinion, a master sculptor. I bought it from a rather seedy little shop in Rome, where the shopkeeper gave me some undoubtedly fictional story of it having been made for a lady who had travelled into Africa with her husband, and become rather enamoured of some of the locals. I find the story unlikely, but the piece is wonderful, no matter who made it or why. I have quite a collection of these, but this is the only dark stone one – the others are ivory, or silver, and sometimes hardened leather.”
He took the diletto to the table, and set it down with the other pieces he had unpacked that day. Alex, beside him, ran his eyes over the assembled pieces with interest. Dash was beginning to see that, until now, Alex’s comprehension of the scale and variety of his collection had been limited. Alex shook his head in wonderment.
“You can give me the tour of what is unpacked so far another day – although I am keen to see it. Today, I came to talk to you about something, which I think will solve a problem for you, if you are willing to be even more unconventional than you already are, to get what you want.”
Dash looked at his friend, wondering what Alex was talking about, then shrugged.
“I’ve a relatively dust free room, with brandy, just down the hall. Let us repair there, and talk in comfort.”
He waited until Alex had moved to the door, then attempted to brush as much dust as possible from his person, before going out into the hall. A few minutes later, they sat in comfortable chairs, before a pleasant fireplace, in a room occupied only by stacks of ledgers, which held his inventory records.
Alex took the brandy that Dash handed him, and sipped, almost as if not sure where to start with whatever he had come to talk about – which was very, very curious, as Alex had not ever been one to hesitate about anything, to Dash’s knowledge. Finally, he spoke.
“The other day, you told me of your frustration with the book written in Russian – I’d love to see it, by the way – and I think that I have a solution to your problem.” Dash felt his heart begin to pound at the very idea – but where on earth would Alex have found a person who could help him? Alex continued, his eyes fixed on Dash, as if expecting something to happen. “A solution which – well, who, to be precise – is resident in my house at present, and for the next month or more. To put it to you directly – Lady Mariel speaks, reads, and writes Russian. She was taught as a child, by her grandmother.”
Dash choked on his brandy.
“You are suggesting, aren’t you, that I ask a gently reared young woman of the ton to translate a scandalous and very explicitly illustrated book about erotic pursuits? Just as if that was an ordinary sort of request to make of an innocent unmarried young woman? Are you mad, Alex?”
“I see that you have grasped the core of it – yes, that is exactly what I am suggesting.”
Dash took a careful swallow of the brandy, head spinning.
“But… but I couldn’t even talk to her about such subjects! And even if I could, if anyone found out that she had seen such a thing, had understood, and translated it – she would be ruined – the scandal would be enormous! This isn’t about what I want – and I do, desperately, want that book translated – this is about a young woman’s reputation!”
“Perhaps. But who is going to know, except us, Mariel, and Selina? And we are certainly not going to tell anyone else. We are deep in the countryside, it’s the end of winter, and no-one is likely to ‘come upon her looking at it’ accidentally.”
“Whether that’s true or not – the content of it, Alex, think of the content! A young woman her age, unmarried, shouldn’t, wouldn’t, even know such things existed! How can I corrupt the innocent like that? What must you think of me, to suggest it?”
Alex laughed, and Dash took another large swallow of the brandy.
“I think that you are a man who can see past the irritating prejudices of society. You’ll be surprised, too, at just how much Lady Mariel knows. She has her own little collection of rather explicit books, I believe. And she knows exactly what’s involved, between a man and a woman – after all, she conspired with Selina and I, in the scandal that freed us from our previous, parentally arranged, commitments, and allowed us to wed.”
“Alex, what are you talking about?”
“We planned it with her. She waited in a side chamber of the library, whilst Selina and I made sure that Selina was completely ruined, in the most pleasurable of ways, then, at the right time, Mariel walked in on us, and set up a great wailing, so that we were caught, and forced to marry.”
Dash felt his head spinning, utterly. His friend was far more outrageous than he had ever realised – obviously.
“Walked in on you… while you were still… pleasuring her?”
“Yes – it had to be real, and convincing. Lady Mariel does not quail at things which might stop most young women. It seems that she has made a point of becoming educated on such matters – as far as is possible without actually carrying out the physical acts – to the extent she can manage, when the world thinks that all young women should be kept ignorant of such things. She most definitely meets your criteria of ‘not easily shocked’.”
“But the risk of scandal…”
“Is getting your book translated worth that risk? I assure you, Lady Mariel will most likely be utterly intrigued by its contents, rather than horrified – I think that, given the chance, she could be as much a scholar of these things as you are. Anyway – what if it did end in scandal? Won’t you displaying these things – as I assume you eventually intend to – cause scandal anyway? I have become rather fond of scandal, myself, since it was what allowed me to marry the woman I love, rather than Lady Phyllida.”
Dash sat there, considering. He wanted that book translated. There was no question of it. This might be the only chance he ever had, to achieve that. Perhaps he was as mad to consider it, as Alex was to suggest it. But he could not, simply could not, allow this chance to escape him.
“All right, I’ll talk to her – if she doesn’t run screaming when I intimate what the content of the book is, we will see.”
Chapter Five
Mariel had made her way through much of the Fortescue Grange library now – all but a number of the very top shelves, for which the ladder was barely tall enough, and one dark corner, where two huge banks of shelves met the wall, with barely a person’s width between them. The shelves in that narrow space were dusty, and there were no windows at the end – no windows on that wall, for most of its length. She supposed that it abutted another part of the building, but she had no clear map of the place in her head, beyond the main corridors and the rooms she had been into.
This morning, she had debated whether inelegant balancing on the ladder, whilst reaching blindly into shelves at the extent of her arms reach, or getting covered in dust, while attempting to hold up a lamp so that she could read titles in a claustrophobic space, was more appealing. In the end, the narrow space won, simply because there was less awkward stretching involved.
Now, right down at the end of that space, her arm aching from holding up the lantern, she was wondering if she had made the right choice. She looked up, and the height of the shelves above her made the space seem even narrower – how was she ever to get to those high shelves, in here? Looking up, she discovered, was dizzying, when one had been bending down for some time.
Her head spun, and she staggered a little, trying not to drop the lantern. Her other hand reached out, instinctively attempting to grasp something for stability, and slammed into the wall, right where it met the edge of the shelving. There was a lump of carving there, or something similar, and her fingers curled around it reflexively. An odd sound filled the space, then, just as she had almost regained her balance, the wall moved, and she
fell against it, barely saving the lantern from crashing to the floor.
She slid down that moving piece of wall until she landed in an ungainly heap at its base. Before her, barely illuminated by the lantern, was a room, not very wide across, but long – extending to both sides from where she sat. A room which appeared to be contained, entirely, within the supposedly solid wall of the library. A room with shelves, and small display cases, and drawers – all of which were coated in a significant layer of dust – so much so that she could not see through the glass which fronted some of the cabinets.
Excitement rushed through her. She had found a secret door, and a secret room, which appeared to have been untouched for a long time! What treasures might there be, which had required them to be hidden away like this? Especially given what treasures she had already found, out in the main part of the library.
She placed the lantern carefully on the floor, and climbed to her feet, before lifting it again. The first thing that she looked at was the ‘door’ – for she did not relish the idea of getting trapped in a secret room. When she could not immediately see how it might be opened from the inside, she selected four very large heavy books, and stacked them where, should it try to close on her, the books would jam it open.
Only then did she step further in, and look around her. She brushed a hand across the spines of the books on one shelf, dislodging a cloud of dust, then leant forward to read the titles. Her heart raced – this was treasure indeed! Every one of them was a book which was scandalous in the extreme – some she knew of, some she did not, yet their titles made their likely content clear. Just that one shelf might keep her reading for days, or weeks.
Slowly, she moved around the room, brushing dust from glass surfaces and books, opening drawers and cabinets – and in every one, what she found was erotic in the extreme. The entire room was devoted to the human obsession with sexuality. The items in the drawers were especially interesting, although the sight of them made her feel heated and a little flustered. They were reproductions of the male member, made in many different materials, from ivory to leather, each minutely detailed, and polished.
She could not resist touching them, imagining as she did, that she touched the warm member of a living man. Were men so varied in size as these? She did not know – it was a question that she had never confronted before. And why had these been made? What were they for? Would a woman… use such a thing, to… pleasure herself?
She felt heat pool at the juncture of her thighs at the thought. She had read, in that explicit book which she had kept her secret for years, a few passages which seemed to imply such a thing. Now, she perceived the touchable evidence of its truth, before her. Her mind, inevitably, went to the important question – what would it feel like, to have one of these pushed into her, as a man would push his member, during fornication?
She sat down rather abruptly on the one spindly chair that the room contained.
Arrayed on the walls, there was also a collection of items which looked oddly similar, in some ways, to the harness one might use on a horse – but of most strange shapes and sizes. As she stared at those, she could only conclude, given the rest of the contents of the room, that they were designed to be used on people. Her imagination ran utterly wild at that point.
Suddenly feeling rather overwhelmed, she rose, lifted the lantern, and went to study the mechanism with which she had accidentally opened the door to the room. Once she was sure that she would be able to open it again, she moved the stack of books from the doorway, and gently pulled the door closed. It shut with a click, and she waited a moment before opening it again, just to be certain that she had it right.
It opened, silently this time. She pulled it closed again, and turned, moving down the narrow space between the shelves. Once she had returned to her rooms, and called for a bath, she stripped off the woefully dirtied gown, and sank into the heated water with a sigh. But when she closed her eyes, the objects in that room displayed themselves to her mind, and her breath caught at the thoughts, and desires, that raised in her. Through it all, one question rose to prominence.
Did Alex and Selina know of it? If they did, why had they not told her, as they knew full well her interest in books of that nature. Had they kept it a secret for a reason? For that matter, did Alex know of it, but not Selina? Alternatively, if they did not know of it… and perhaps they didn’t, for there was so much dust… then she had found something remarkable, something that Alex should know about.
She could not decide whether to tell him or ask him about it or not, and resolved to leave that decision for another day – after she had explored it a little more.
~~~~~
Dash walked up the front steps at Fortescue Grange feeling more nervous than he had in years. He still wasn’t at all sure that he was doing the right thing – in fact, he suspected that what he was about to do was completely mad. But the possibility of getting that book translated was just too tempting.
Somehow, he had to manage a polite and careful conversation with an unmarried young woman about the translation of an erotic text.
Hallam opened the door, and bowed him in, just as Alex came down the stairs.
“Good afternoon, Dash – so, you’ve decided to have that conversation we discussed, have you?”
“Yes. If it’s a suitable time?”
“It is. Come through to the parlour – Selina and Lady Mariel are there, and I have just sent for tea.”
Dash followed Alex, finding that the nervous churning in his stomach increased with every step. Normally, he had no difficulty discussing his collection… with the right people, people who were unlikely to be shocked or horrified. But nothing in his experience had prepared him for the idea of discussing it with an innocent young woman.
The parlour was warm, and the two women presented a picture of domesticity, sitting there with books in hand, and a cat curled on the hearth by the fire. It was a peaceful scene that he was certain to disrupt, utterly. They rose as he entered, and he went forward to bow to them.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace, Lady Mariel. I trust that you are well today?”
God, he sounded inane, even to himself! Alex shook his head, a little amused. Selina spoke first, after her eyes flicked to her husband.
“Very well, thank you Lord Longwood. But please, call me Selina – let us dispense with formality – we are friends, are we not, and there is no one else here to be offended by our informality.”
“Well… if I am to call you Selina, then you must address me as Dash – I cannot speak to you so familiarly, and not grant you the same licence.”
“If we are dispensing with formality, might I ask that you call me Mariel? I have quite enough of formality in London – dispensing with it here is part of the pleasure of my visit.”
Dash turned to her, and bowed again, grateful for her words – somehow, it made what he was about to attempt seem easier.
“Thank you, Mariel.”
The greetings dispensed with, they all settled into the comfortable chairs around the fireplace, just as a maid brought in the tea tray. The time that it took for tea to be poured and passed to each person gave Dash some small respite to build up his courage. He would start with the matter of language, and work up to the reasons why he cared – that should give him time to find the right words.
Once they had indulged in a little small talk, he thought the time right to begin.
“Mariel, Alex mentioned that you have rather a skill with languages – that you even speak Russian?”
She looked at him, her deep violet eyes wide and curious. He was caught by their clear depths, by the oddly vulnerable sense of seeing into her thoughts.
“I do – I am not as practised in recent years with Russian as I once was - not since my grandmother died. I also speak French, Italian and Greek, as well as a little Spanish.”
“You are very talented, obviously – but how did you come to learn Russian – it is not a language commonly found in England, after al
l?”
Mariel laughed, and smiled, leaving Dash feeling somehow warmer.
“I do believe that you are the first gentleman to have ever praised my knowledge, rather than being intimidated by it. I rarely speak of it to men, for they are fragile creatures at times.”
He smiled, utterly unsure of how to truly respond.
“Errr… perhaps. But I am told that I have a rather different attitude to life from that of most men of the ton.”
She nodded, as if what he had said was sensible, even though it patently wasn’t.
“But back to your question – I learnt Russian from my paternal Grandmother. She was Russian – my grandfather went to Eton with her brother, then visited them in Russia – and fell in love with her. She missed having someone to speak to in Russian, and my father had no facility for languages at all. So she taught me, when I was a tiny child, just so that I could speak with her in that language. I miss her, I admit. And as a consequence, I have made a habit of seeking out books in Russian, so that I might not completely lose my ability with the language, through lack of practice.”
Dash flicked his eyes to Alex, and then to Selina, and back to Alex – he was not at all comfortable with this – if he had to ask Mariel to help him, he would prefer to do it in private – for being alone with her would be no more scandalous than what he was going to ask, and if she reacted with horror, he would far rather not have anyone see him making a fool of himself. He turned back to Mariel.
“I see. In my travels, I have made a habit of collecting things – rather a lot of things, actually. I have many books, in many languages, but I am afraid that I cannot read all of them – I am not as talented as you, obviously.”
Lady Mariel's Scandalous Love: Regency Romance (Regency Scandals Book 2) Page 4