Desire and Despair: Book 3 of Poacher's Progress
Chapter 7: I Spy

Copyright© 2014 by Jack Green

Historical Sex Story: Chapter 7: I Spy - Jack Greenaway's pathway to happiness is strewn with obstacles: a plagiarized novel and his sister's infatuation with a Romantic poet; an old, 15th century, law; a white lady in Brussels and a Black Guard at Chateau Blanchard; attendance at weddings - and funerals; going undercover in Manchester, and helping to foil an assassination plot. He overcomes these difficulties and his future looks assured until a blast from his past causes catastrophe.

Caution: This Historical Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Drunk/Drugged   Heterosexual   Historical   Tear Jerker   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Lactation   Slow   Violence   Prostitution   Military  

The sentiments Caroline had expressed in her 'journal' concerning Jarvis indicated she had no inkling of the murderous, child molesting brute lurking within him. She must never know. The shock, and horror, of being so close to such a fiend and not realising his true character, indeed being married to such a monster, would probably cast her into a deep depression.
Never fear, my love; where ignorance is bliss 'tis folly to be wise.

The rest of Caroline's letter had been written after she had received mine via Rob Crawshay. She suggested I came in a weeks' time, an interval in which John-Jarvis should have recovered from his cold, and I would have seen Becky off to the continent.
'It would be better, my love, if you are not my single, male, visitor. Eyes are watching me, as I have told you, but if you bring that attractive French girl and her companion, and another male, Krish if he is available, it would not excite the same interest as if you come alone.'
Personally I thought her fears of being spied upon unfounded, and thought the two of us would be able to restart our relationship easier without an attendant crowd of people, but naturally I fell in with her wishes.

Becky was leaving for the continent on March 23rd, and on that morning Rob drove me in a hired coach to Bloomsbury Square to collect Zinnia and Becky, and the latter's travel trunk and portmanteaux. The Shelleys, with their two children and the children's maid, plus Claire Clairemont and her child, met us at The Elephant and Castle hostelry, from where Shelley had ordered a coach to carry them all to Dover.
Rob and I managed, with help of the coachman, to pack all the piles of luggage into the coach. Percy Bysshe Shelley kept himself aloof from such a menial task, and sat at his ease with the females in the hostelry. Eventually he, with the females, made their way to the carriage, where Zinnia and Becky took a tearful farewell. Before Shelley climbed into the coach I drew him aside.
"I will hold you personally responsible if Becky comes to harm when in Venice, or indeed anywhere else on the continent."
He flushed, angered by my threat. "She goes to meet Byron. Any responsibility I may hold for Miss Sharpe will terminate as soon as we reach Venice."

"Even so, but as far as I'm concerned she will be still under your protection. I suggest you inform Lord Byron of the duty I put on you; his friendship for you may temper any ... unseemly ... behaviour by him towards Miss Sharpe."
Shelley paled. "How am I to wield any influence over a man like Byron? You expect too much of me, Greenaway."
I put my mouth close to his ear. "If harm befalls Becky Sharpe I will come after you and cut off your nugs ... do I make myself clear?"
Before he was able to reply Mary Shelley called from the window of the coach. "What are you two boys chattering about? Come along Percy, time and tide wait for no man."
He stumbled away and disappeared into the coach, which started off with a cracking of whips and shouting by the driver, and a fluttering of handkerchiefs and tears from the females. Zinnia and I watched as the coach trundled along the Old Kent Road, until turning a corner it vanished from our view.

"What were you and Shelley talking about?" She asked, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief.

"I put the fear of God into him, to make sure he looks after Becky."

"You should tell Byron not Percy. He revolves around Lord Byron, not the other way about."

"If Byron had been here I would have. Shelley shall be my messenger, and will tell Byron what I threatened if Becky comes to any harm."

"What did you tell him?"
I whispered the threat I had made to Shelley in her ear, and she blanched in shock, and then gave a howl of laughter. "Jack Greenaway, you are no better than a Turk ... but Lord Byron will surely get the message."
She kept a doleful silence on the journey back to her now empty house. We pulled up outside the house, and I had a sudden brainwave.

"I am invited to Ashford House in a weeks' time, together with Matilde and her companion Violette. I suggest you come in place of Violette, whom I will give time off to visit her family. It will take your mind off Becky to accompany Matilde and me to Kent, and I will ask Krish Armityge to join us. What do you say?"
She smiled gratefully. "I will be honoured to accept. I shall welcome some company with Becky gone. Thank you, Jack, for the kind thought." She leaned across and kissed me on the cheek. "I hope I shan't be a gooseberry,"

A week later Rob drove a party consisting of Matilde, Zinnia, Krish and me, to Ashford House. I had thought Caroline's house was in Maidstone, but it was in the village of Bearsted, which was across the River Medway some 3 miles to the south east of the town,


Ashford House had been built shortly after 1660, and became the family home of Rafe Ashford, who was the son of a yeoman farmer, a Man of Kent and a Royalist. When, in 1642, the unpleasantness between King and Parliament erupted into the Civil War Rafe joined the Prince of Wales' Guards as a pike man, in which role he took part in many of the actions of that conflict. After the execution of King Charles I Rafe followed Charles II into exile. An Ashford family legend maintains Rafe was hiding in the oak tree with the King after the Battle of Worcester. On the Restoration of the monarchy Rafe returned to England with the King and was created Lord Ashford, 1st Baron Medway, in recognition of his service to Charles II. Subsequent generations of Ashford males gave equal loyal support to the monarchy. Like several noble English families the Ashfords rose from yeomen to Earls by virtue of the males of the family's unquestionable loyalty and dedicated service to kings — but of course many more noble families in England owe their high position to their females dedicated servicing of kings.


Caroline welcomed us warmly, and after settling in I walked with her in the pleasant parkland surrounding Ashford House, with fine views of the North Downs. Out of sight from prying eyes we kissed deeply and passionately, holding tight to each other and feeling the beating of each other's hearts.

"I fear at the moment stolen kisses must be the only external demonstration of my love for you, Elijah. Eyes watch my every move, and any public evidence of our affair could lead to disaster."

I thought her suspicions were unfounded until she related instances which jolted my cavalier attitude.

After contacting the Crown Commissioner's office and having John-Jarvis recognized as the legitimate 10th Earl of Hungerford, Caroline returned to Ashford House. Some days later the publican of the village tavern, the White Horse, and a former servant of the family, informed her a stranger had been asking questions about the newly returned widow and her son.

"Bearsted is on a well-used smuggler's trail from the south coast to London, and the villagers maintain a tradition of keeping their tongues still when asked questions by strangers, suspecting them to be Revenue Men." Caroline explained. "I asked the landlord of the White Horse for more details, and he said the man was a wandering fiddle player, whom he had allowed to play for the customers and accept any money they gave him for his pains." She paused significantly. "The description given me was 'an ill formed, stunted man, with dark straggly hair' ... it was without a doubt Silas Maddox."

"Did you observe this man, and recognise him as Maddox?"

"No, but during a visit to Maidstone later in the week I saw someone resembling him in town."

"Why do you suspect Maddox is spying on you?"
She answered with some vehemence. "Cornelius Braxton-Clar! The man is obsessed with stripping the Ashfords of their titles, although he would not be able to purchase them if they were put to auction by the Crown Commissioners. No, he lives to avenge the death of his son; a son he had little time, or love, for when alive. The duplicitous pair: Maddox the grieving lover and Cornelius the vengeful father, are hell bent on finding some – any – behaviour of mine which would lead to an investigation into the death of Jarvis Braxton-Clark."

 
There is more of this chapter...
The source of this story is Storiesonline

To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account (Why register?)

Get No-Registration Temporary Access*

* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.

Close
 

WARNING! ADULT CONTENT...

Storiesonline is for adult entertainment only. By accessing this site you declare that you are of legal age and that you agree with our Terms of Service and Privacy Policy.