Chapter 29: Lady Grey

One day later, Thomas received the special marriage licence from his Excellency, General Campbell. The aide-de-camp granted them the use of the Convent Garden for the reception, and the wedding was planned for three days later.

The list of guests invited from Thomas’s side was short and included the officers of Unicorn and Dido, the port admiral and the helpful aide-de-camp. Mirabel invited a few gentlemen and ladies of her acquaintance, and of course Angela and Florence. In total, no more than 25 guests were assembled in the chapel next to The Convent when Thomas and James, his best man, entered. They walked along the aisle and stood in front of the altar where Mr. Abercrombie, the chaplain, was already waiting.

They did not have to wait long. Only a minute later, Mirabel entered the church together with Angela and Florence, matron and maid of honour, with little Teresa walking in front and strewing rose petals. The four walked briskly along the aisle and then Mirabel stood at Thomas’s side and lifted her veil. Both smiled at each other before they turned and faced the chaplain.

Abercrombie nodded and started the service.

“Dearly beloved,” he recited, “we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony...”

Abercrombie knew the text by rote of course, and the only slightly awkward moment was when Thomas had to give Mirabel away to himself, she still being his ward. That passed quickly, however. They both spoke their vows and exchanged the rings without mishap and were pronounced Man and Wife. After making liberal use of his right to kiss the bride, Thomas led her along the aisle and towards the chapel door.

The bright sunlight made them squint their eyes at first, but then they saw their honour guard, fifty sailors and fifty Royal Marines from Unicorn and Dido stood lined up to both sides of the church door. Thomas nodded with appreciation and led Mirabel along between the two lines. Sergeant Mills of the marines raised his staff.

“Three cheers for Sir Thomas and Her Ladyship! Hip, hip!”

“Hooray!” the sailors and marines shouted back.

“Hip, hip!” “Hooray!”

“Hip, hip!” “Hooray!”

“Thank you, Sergeant; thank you, men!” Thomas answered, lifting his hat in response. The men would receive a more tangible reward later since Thomas had purchased four large casks of ale for the crews.

Thomas and Mirabel then led their invited guests towards the entrance of the Convent Garden where tables with food and drink had been prepared and where five musicians borrowed from the Governor’s own household stood ready to entertain the guests. General Campbell, the Acting Governor, welcomed them to the garden and led the first toast for the newlyweds. Then it was time for Thomas and Mirabel to receive the felicitations. This took some time, but finally Thomas could ask the assembled guests to enjoy the food and the wine, and to have a good time.

Of course, Thomas served Mirabel first before he helped himself to some of the delicacies. Since it was an impromptu wedding, it cost him over £42 to have everything ready and in place on such short notice. At least the pastries and roasts were looking enticing enough and the Madeira wine was of excellent quality.

When everybody’d had their first taste of the food, the music started and Thomas and Mirabel led the first Cotillion. Thomas’s dance skills were as rusty as they could be expected to be, but Mirabel more than made up for his blunders. Since there were decidedly more men present than women, the fair sex was forced to participate in at least three dances to give every man a chance.

When a fourth and then a fifth dance followed, most guests returned their attention to the food and began milling around in the garden. Thomas and Mirabel too had a chance to rest with Thomas having commandeered a stone bench for their use. They were sipping wine from their glasses whilst guests stopped by for less formal felicitations and for idle chit-chat. They observed with some amusement that Lt. Darby and Florence were also sitting on one of the benches, but away from the milling guests and seemingly in deep conversation.

“Mr. Darby seems a likely match for Florence,” Mirabel remarked. “Shouldn’t he be promoted to commander after your victory?”

“That is hard to say. It depends on whether the Admiralty will view our victory as important and opportune. After all, the Dey is still considered an ally by some. Then again, there weren’t many victories to celebrate in European waters.”

“Let us hope the best. Would Mr. Hearn be an able successor for him?”

“I believe so. He has improved in spades since spring, not the least because of Darby’s example. We shall have to see.”

Just then the next well wisher stopped at their bench and they had to drop the matter.

By late afternoon the tables were largely depleted and the guests started to leave. Thomas and Mirabel bade farewell to each of them, shaking numerous hands and smiling constantly. They felt honest relief when at last Unicorn’s wardroom members left, dragging along a drunk and barely conscious Lt. Gerard and after offering another toast to their captain and his wife. Lt. Darby kissed Florence’s hand when he bade her his good-byes before he herded his merry band of officers down to the harbour.

That left the inhabitants of Angela’s house and they too made their escape when the garrison’s mess hall attendants showed for the clean-up. They walked the short way back to the Bennings’ house where Angela and Florence excused themselves leaving Thomas and Mirabel to their much-anticipated wedding night. In Thomas’s room they found two cooled jars of wine, some bread and a plate with various cheeses and fruit.

They also found a note advising them that a bath had been readied for them. The day had not been hot, but decidedly warm, and both felt sweaty after standing for hours at the reception. Therefore they accepted the invitation eagerly. Undressing quickly – the last nights had taken away any shyness – they threw on dressing gowns and climbed down the stairs to the ground floor room where the large wooden tub was waiting for them.

Mirabel was used to bathing at least once weekly, but for Thomas it was a rare luxury. He frequently had an old hogshead filled with seawater to soak away the sweat and grime, but to bathe in freshwater was something entirely different. Angela’s servants had spared no effort and the water felt almost hot. With a deep sigh, Thomas stepped into the tub and sat down. Mirabel used a strip of cloth and a comb to tie her hair up and into a bun. This exposed her slender neck and Thomas admired the view when she also stepped into the warm water.

Settling with her back against Thomas, she sighed deeply.

“I love bathing anyway, but I could make it a habit bathing with you.”

“We should have a bathing chamber at home for when we’ll return,” Thomas answered, nuzzling her neck from behind.

“Mhm!” she purred. “Angela told me that she has a douche bath in her London house.”

Thomas had never heard of such a thing and he admitted to it.

“Well, according to Angela there is a water tank above the ceiling of the bathing chamber that leads into an inverted funnel with a strainer plate. There’s some sort of valve and if you pull a chain, water from the tank rushes through the strainer and pours over you much like a strong rain shower. The water then drains through a grate in the tiled floor. She says it’s quite refreshing and less cumbersome than having a bathtub filled.”

“That sounds ingenious. We should have that too. Although I admit that having a bath with you is also quite pleasant.”

“Flatterer! Now where is that soap bar?”

Having found it, Mirabel lathered a wash cloth and proceeded to wash her chest and armpits with it. Applying fresh soap, she handed it to Thomas for him to wash her back. Standing up, she next let him wash her buttocks and legs before she turned around, offering a bottle of soapwort root infusion for the delicate task.

“I should be clean down there as well,” she instructed him.

Using the soapwort lather and his hands, Thomas then cleaned Mirabel’s wiry pubes and the soft lips hidden underneath. She responded by humping his hand and sighing softly. Then she sat down again and rinsed her lower body and her legs with the warm water.

“I believe it is your turn now,” she stated, retrieving the cloth and the soap bar. She washed his chest, arms and armpits first before she rose and, bending over his shoulder, washed his back. “Stand!” she commanded, and when he stood, she quite unashamedly lathered her hands in soapwort infusion and gave his rock-hard member, his bollocks and his buttocks a thorough washing. So arousing were her ministrations that Thomas tried to stop her, fearing that he would spend his seed.

“Shh! Darling, let me!” she insisted. “Florence said that I should give you a release first so that you will be less aroused and last longer when you’ll ... when you’ll take me. She’s bound to know about such matters.”

Mirabel kept stroking his shaft and cupping his bollocks and his sensitive glans until his member began to pulse in her hands and his milky white semen shot forth from the tip, catching her unaware and all over her face and upper chest.

“Now look what you did!” she mock-chastised him. “Now you’ll have to clean me all over again!” She couldn’t help herself and quite dissolved in giggles whilst Thomas stood on shaky legs trying to regain his bearings. When Mirabel hesitantly let go of him, he knelt in the tub and rinsed off the remnants of soap and spunk from his softening member. Using the wash cloth he then gently cleaned Mirabel’s face and chest, already becoming aroused again. She looked at his member with a wry smile.

“So much for Florence’s wisdom. She knows you less than she thinks.”

“Or perhaps you are too enticing for me?” Thomas offered.

“She’s very beautiful too, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she is. I quite like her as you know and I wish her all the best, but she’s not you.”

“I like her a lot. She’s opened my eyes to quite a number of issues and she’s loyal to a fault. Enough of Florence though. It’s our wedding night. Shall we dry off and go up to our room?”

That was indeed a sensible suggestion Thomas found. Drying off each other was delightful in its own way and climbing the stairs behind a Mirabel who was wearing only a sheer dressing gown did little to lessen his arousal.

Inside their sleeping chamber, Mirabel quickly shed the gown and lay down on the bed beckoning Thomas to join her. He too got rid of his robe and sat on the bed. He poured two glasses of Madeira for them and offered one to Mirabel.

“To the beautiful Lady Grey!” he toasted. Even in the light of the single oil lamp he could see Mirabel blush, but she sipped of the wine.

On the bedside table was a bowl with dark grapes from which Thomas began to feed his wife. With a sultry smile she snatched the berries from his fingers before she took over, feeding him in turn. Thomas found that eating grapes and sipping the cool wine with Mirabel was also quite arousing. At one point, she dribbled some berry juice on her chest and he darted forward to lick the sweet and sticky juice from her left tit. Mirabel moaned deeply and held his head against her chest. In the blink of an eye, food and wine were forgotten.

Thomas licked her small breasts with their small nipples and then kissed his way down to her belly button, making her squeal. She was ticklish there and Thomas spent some time exploring her tummy reducing her into helpless giggles. Unable to cope, she pushed his head away from her belly, down to where Thomas was headed anyway. A sharp intake of breath followed his first gentle kiss on the top of her slit. Her nether lips were already swollen and moist, protruding from the growth of wiry black hair. Using his fingers, he parted the curls to get unimpeded access for his lips and tongue and began feasting on his bride’s treasure box. First Angela, then Catrina and Florence, had given him practice and pointers enough to know his way around a woman’s private parts, but he also watched for cues from Mirabel. The latter was easy enough, for Mirabel seemed to like it all. She liked him kissing her inner thighs, licking her outer lips and pointing his tongue into her untried opening. Mirabel kept whispering her encouragement, ruffling his hair and moaning softly.

This in itself was satisfying for Thomas, but he also desperately longed for sinking his member into her softness. When he found her thoroughly aroused and ready, he moved his body on top of her and between her legs.

“Yes! It’s time now!” Mirabel encouraged him, pulling his face up with both hands. “Make me yours!”

Carefully aligning the head of his member with her now moist and yielding opening, Thomas pushed. Whilst he had no experience whatsoever with opening a virgin, Angela Benning had taken him aside on the evening before and given him sound advice. Accordingly, he pressed gently, drew back a bit, and pressed again. With each repeat he pressed against Mirabel’s virginity a little more, wearing the little skin barrier down a little. He carefully watched Mirabel’s face and saw her relief when he did not just bear down on her. After a few of these trials however, she looked up into his face and nodded with determination. This was when he pushed hard. He felt the resistance, but a moment later he felt it yield and suddenly the tip of his member was encased in Mirabel’s warmth, causing a sharp intake of breath on her part.