Chapter 18: More Questions Are Answered

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride"
The Vicar of St Wulfrum's reached the culmination of the marriage ceremony and Gurney and Zinnia embraced. The church bells chimed, the choir sang an anthem, and most of the ladies in the congregation cried while the men stared stolidly to their front. I accompanied the chief bridesmaid – a cousin of Zinnia who possessed an equally prominent bosom but little else of Zinnia's warmth, intelligence or wit – following the happy couple down the nave and out from the church.
Colonel Slade handed his bride up into a fine looking curricle, loaned by Lord Brownlow, and took his place on the driver's seat. The couple were to spend their honeymoon in the dower house on Syston Grange estate, and they set off with much hallooing and cheering and dogs barking, and boys running alongside, until the carriage turned a corner and set off along High Dike.
Caroline and I were returning to London the next day, so for us the after- wedding celebrations being held at Belton House had to be curtailed.

Our journey back to London followed much the same procedure as the journey to Grantham. We stopped two nights at great houses, where I was treated as a mere postilion, and slept in the servants quarters. The third, and final, night of travel was spent in the Burnt Oak hostelry. The tavern was situated a dozen miles to the north of London, and it was here I once again shared Caroline's bed and her milk. However, this time, while I was sucking on her teat and gulping down her sweet milk, I was also thrusting into her equally sweet madge, which in turn was sucking and gulping on my plunger. My juices, her juices and her milk, flowed in equal quantities, which gave extra emphasis to what was a most memorable night.
Rob drove the coach back to Hanover Square, where I took my leave of Caroline and the rest of the passengers. They would stay overnight and then be driven to Bearsted the following day by Rob. Molly March and Domina had struck up a firm friendship during the time spent looking after John-Jarvis together, and Caroline thought it would be beneficial for John-Jarvis, and the two girls, if Molly joined them at Bearsted. Molly was obviously delighted by the suggestion, so I willingly gave my assent.

On arrival back at Queen Street I was met with two surprises; meeting Madame Bovary face to face being the first. She had arrived at 18 Queen Street after I had left for Grantham so I hadn't yet met the lady, but had trusted Gerard de Pardieu enough not to be apprehensive in allowing a complete stranger into my house. As the word 'dowager' conjures up a particular mental image so does the word 'chaperone'. I had expected to meet a flint faced old biddy, dressed in black bombazine and sucking on a mint to keep her breath fresh, but instead encountered probably the most elegant and beguiling woman in London. Madame Bovary was aged nearer to forty than to thirty, but with such a sparkle, such deep, dark, enticing eyes, and such a well-formed frame she would, and probably did, attract males from the age of sixteen to sixty six. Her voice was soft and low, with the most enchanting French accented English, sensual enough for a monk to forget his vows.
She smiled. I expect Madame Bovary was used to having men stare at her with mouths agape. "Mademoiselle Matilde and I have had an excellent time together, and I can assure you her reputation is as unsullied as when you left."
I babbled something of how grateful I was and hoped I would be able to call on her in the future as chaperone.

"I should like to continue my association with Matilde; she reminds me of how I was at her age. I can always be contacted via Gerard ... my good friend Baron d'Abbeville." I wondered how good a friend she was to Gerard de Pardieu – perhaps all those supposedly vigour-inducing Cambrai cheeses I had brought him were not just for the taste but to enable him make the beast with two backs with the luscious Madame Bovary.
Matilde came down stairs to take her farewell of madam. They exchanged kisses and spoke, extremely quickly, in their native tongue before Emma, as I overheard Matilde address her, left.

"She is the most interesting woman I have ever met." Matilde enthused. "Emma, Madame Bovary, has convinced me in order to obtain the man I want as husband I must exercise discretion, and sometimes abstinence." She made a moue of distaste at the thought. "But Emma, Madame Bovary, herself lived a wild life as a young woman, and nearly went to the guillotine because of her promiscuity. She therefore understands how difficult it is to control one's desires, and had to bridle her behaviour in the same way as she advises me." Matilde gazed at me with such an earnest expression I knew she was serious when she said. "I swear, by everything I hold dear; Patrick, Mimi, Chloe and you, that I shall curb my urges to share a sausage, other than with my fiancé, and then to be as discreet as one can be when consumed with passion."
She grinned at me, and I kissed her on the cheek.

"Good, then I need not call on the services of Madame Bovary again."
Matilde looked crestfallen. "I had hoped you would avail yourself of her expertise in art and music and the theatre. The times spent with Emma at the galleries and concerts have been an education for me. With Patrick I feel such a numbskull when he talks of books I've never read, of music I've never heard and plays I've never seen. His parents will think I am nothing more than a stupid French poule, out to snare him for his money and lands. They are aristo's, while I am no more than an ignorant, unintelligent, kitchen maid."
I hastened to forestall the tears in her eyes from falling. "We all feel like numbskulls alongside Patrick. As for his parents being aristocrats, well, Admiral Sir Vincent Jane was nothing more than a son of a country doctor. The estate he now owns was bought with prize money accumulated during twenty years of fighting." I didn't finish my sentence with 'the French', as it was by slaughtering her countrymen that both Sir Vincent and I had risen to our current positions in society. I had killed far fewer Frenchies than the Admiral, so he fully deserved the higher station obtained. I continued, "And as for you being unintelligent ... poppycock. You are the brightest young woman it has been my privilege to meet, and with Madame Bovary's assistance I will ensure you will be able to hold forth in any company on the merits, or otherwise, of Messrs Shakespeare, Pope, Marlowe, Milton, Mozart, all of the many Bachs, Gainsborough, Goya, Van Dyke, Rembrandt, Old Uncle Tom Cobleigh and all."
She gave a shriek of delight, and threw her arms around my neck before kissing me – her new found decorous behaviour meant it was my cheek rather than my mouth which received her warm lips.

"Who is Uncle Tom Cobleigh? Is he an artist, a poet, or an author?"

"You can ask Patrick when next you see him." I said, and went into my study.

My second surprise was the letter sitting on a silver salver in the study. I broke the seal and saw it was from Patrick Jane. In the letter he first apologised he could not present himself before me but the exigencies of the service held him to his duty in an unnamed northern town. This was followed by a declaration of his love for Matilde, with a formal request for her hand in marriage. I sat down in my chair, shaken by this tangible proof of the state of affairs between my ward and him. I sat for some time thinking deeply, and decided it would be cruel of me to deny Matilde a chance of happiness. My doubts about Patrick's suitability as a husband were based solely on his behaviour with young women – young women who were obviously attracted to him – and he had responded to them as any red blooded young man would respond – indeed, as I had responded whenever the opportunity arose.
Patrick had requested that Matilde be permitted to accompany him to his parents' home in Thetford during his furlough, which he had been assured 'by higher authority' would be granted over the Christmas period. He informed me he would be in London on Christmas Eve, and hoped I would allow him to call on me and discuss the arrangements for Matilde to travel to Norfolk.
I intended spending the twelve days of Christmas at Bearsted, and would be travelling down on the day before Christmas Eve so would not be available to discuss plans, of any sort, with Patrick. However I decided to give my permission for Matilde to travel to Norfolk, but only if Madame Bovary would be available to accompany her. If Patrick successfully spurned the wiles of Emma Bovary, for I inteded instructing her to seduce the boy when in Norfolk, then I would agree to the marriage.
With my plan set I quickly penned a letter to Madame Bovary with a request to chaperone Matilde over Christmas at the Jane's home at Conquest House, Thetford in the county of Norfolk. I also tasked her with exploring the limits of Patrick Jane's fidelity to Matilde, but left the details of the planned seduction to her experience and expertise.