Chapter 3: Crescendo

The days after Anne’s wedding were spent in adjusting. Violet had a future to arrange, but she was curiously unready to arrange it. She took breakfast and luncheon with Lord and Lady Montraven at Lady Montraven’s specific invitation. The Montravens dined out, and Violet took those meals in her room. It would have been easier on staff to have taken them in the dining room, but it would have been presumptuous on her part.

She had enough presumptuous actions ahead of her. She had lost the address of the agency which had placed her with the family in the first place. They would have used their man of business, who would have the address. She needed a note to that man to ask that question. She was very familiar with a tiny segment of London, but had no idea as to how to find the address when she had it. She knew enough about London to know that a gentlewoman was risking death and worse by wandering around the streets.

Had Anne been there, she would have asked Anne, and Anne would have asked for the address and ordered up a carriage to take her. She thought the Viscountess, who had always been kind to her, would do the same if she asked. She was hesitant to do so, though. Violet might know little French, but she knew that she was now de trop.

Then a parlor maid brought her a letter. The body of the letter was in a handwriting so fine that it had to come from a professional clerk.

| Dear Miss Violet Worden,
|
| I have the acquaintance of Lady Anne Griffon,
| formerly Montraven.
| She speaks well of your character as a governess,
| and her deportment speaks better of your skills in
| that task.
| A young relative, Deborah, has come into my
| household whom
| I fear is in need of governing.
| If you would take on that task, I should be grateful.
| I am willing
| to pay the same rate as you have received
| previously.
|As an advance thereof and
| to pay your traveling expenses,
| the enclosed.
| If you have taken another position, please
| reply by post.
| If you
| accept, you may come directly.
| The closest the post coach can bring
| you is Aylesbury, Bucks.
| At the posthouse there, ask for a message
| to be sent to Tallis Hall.
| They shall send a carriage.
| Hoping to make your acquaintance, I am,
| your servant,
|
|
|
| Sir Richard (bart)

Above the clerk’s neat writing of the name -- and did baronets not use their last names? -- was an illegible scrawl. She could barely make out the “Richard” with the guidance of the name right below. The last name began with an S; no, that was a G. The rest of the name looked more like a drawing of waves than letters.

Enclosed in the letter was a five-pound note. That would pay her fare to Glasgow and back, let alone Buckinghamshire. She had savings from her pay; she had a trunk full of clothes; she had a recommendation from Anne.

She would receive a more formal recommendation from Lord Albert, she was certain.

She received that, and more. Lord Albert paid her for the last quarter, which had barely begun. He directed the servants to give her every assistance, which meant that they packed for her and the carriage took her to the post house to find the schedule as well as to take her and her luggage to the coach when it was due. Cook sent her off with luncheon and supper to eat on the coach.

Milady kissed her goodbye when she left.

Post coaches stopped to change horses. Passengers could relieve themselves and sometimes have a meal. The stops, however, were mostly scheduled for the horses. Even though Violet had a five-hour wait when she changed directions, the five hours were midday. She slept on the coach, never changed clothes, and washed only her hands.

She could blame the jostling for her unquiet sleep. The dreams that interrupted it were, however, her own fault. She was going to Buckinghamshire. Lord Richard was in Buckinghamshire, or would be when parliament rose. Did Sir Richard know Lord Richard? He knew Anne, and therefore almost certainly Lord James.

She told herself that she was a grown woman who was supposed to cure silly girls of such dreams, and silly girls who could dream of such as Lord Richard much more reasonably than she.

The man had been unfailingly courteous to her. That courtesy was probably ingrained, given to all his inferiors out of noblesse oblige. Even so, he had -- or Lord James had -- received what he probably wanted for his brother, Lady Anne’s hand.

The next time he saw her, he would probably be as courteous, but he would have no interest to gain. Then, too, he might next see her in a dozen years, with daughters of his own in need of a governess. If he offered her a position, would she accept? Would seeing him many weeks in the year be a pleasure, or would it be a torment -- seeing always what she could not have?

Well, she was worrying about the far future. Anne had said that Lord Richard was not wed. And, assuming that Lord Richard ever visited Sir Richard, how likely was she to speak to him. In the past three years, nearly four, she had sat at table with the guests no more than four times. And, as a barely acceptable companion, she had sat between the two least desirable dinner companions each time. Lord Richard must shine in company, certainly in the company at a baronet’s table.

She should worry about what was going to happen, instead of what was quite unlikely to happen. Who was this Deborah? Oddly, Sir Richard had not specified her age. If she needed governing, which was an odd expression for a governess’s task, what did she know, and what did she have to learn?

But there were no answers to those questions, either. She finally arrived in Aylesbury, which was a considerable town. She should be able to hire a carriage and driver here, and she wondered why Sir Richard had not told her to. She inquired at the post house about Tallis Hall, though. She did not want to present herself to a new employer as a girl who had disregarded his directions.

Anne had worn the silk night rail the second night of her marriage, and James had not visited her room. That morning, Lord Richard had departed London, leaving Kalworth House, and a skeleton crew of servants in their hands. That night, she wore a wool night rail. It fit the weather better, and there was no reason for the fancy one if there was no one to see it. James came into her room carrying a candlestick.

“Do you wish me to remove this rail?” she asked.

“Oh, yes.”

“Then, should you not remove your own clothes?” She thought she did not have the right to demand this, but she had merely requested it.

“I shall,” he said starting immediately on his robe, “and I shall assist you, as well.” She might need Gretchen to remove a corset, but she was able to remove a night rail on her own. Before the Season, she had dressed by herself. Still, he sounded eager to assist, and she wanted him to be eager.

That time, the mating had been absolutely painless. He had declared his love again and kissed her searchingly before departing.

When he came in the next night, he said, “My robe first, and then we deal with your night rail together?” When he doffed his robe, he was not wearing a night shirt.

He was between her legs very soon, but he kissed her then instead of penetrating her. The kiss with their bare bodies pressed along her entire length was exciting, and his tongue exploring her mouth was more exciting. She felt his organ at her entrance and spread her legs.

He laughed, but the laugh sounded fond. He moved aside, and he started kissing her breasts. She began to tighten again. She had not heard the clink of the vial, and the previous night had gone well without the oil, but he stroked her most sensitive flesh again.

Anne grew tighter. The spring was being wound to its limit again. Although the physical tension was as great, she had no real worries. She was in the hands of her loving husband, and he had done this before.

When she felt about to splinter, he withdrew his hand. He moved above her and then into her. He stretched her more then he had the previous night, but the stretching felt pleasurable. He moved in and out, and the spring wound tighter and tighter.

“James?” she asked.

“I love you.”

And then she shattered. Her spirit flew in all directions, but her body tightened around him.

“Darling!” he said. He pulled almost out of her and thrust so strongly that she was pushed up in the bed.

“Oh, Anne, oh darling, oh Anne, oh love,” he said in rhythm with the pulsing of his body deep inside hers.

He was heavy on her, but it was a weight she loved. When he moved to the side, though, she welcomed the relief. When he started to leave the bed, she spoke.

“Do you need to leave yet?”

“May I remain?”

“Keep me warm.” And she woke in his bare arms the next morning.

She feared while Gretchen was dressing her that morning, that she might have upset the unstated balance. The lord enjoyed sexual relations with the lady, and the lady had a generous clothing budget.

James made not the slightest suggestion that she had overstepped, however. On the contrary, he seemed more infatuated than ever. He found opportunities to draw her into empty rooms, and they shared kisses, kisses whish she found increasingly sweet.

Anne had heard for years about ladies who cheated on their husbands. It had always seemed to her a strange behavior, like redheads who wore pink. The lord got your body, and you got his position and his daughters. If another man got your body, what did you get in return? Not the other man’s position, obviously.

Now, in a single flash, she both understood and rejected that possibility for herself. What the wantons got was the pleasure she got with James. And James was the source of so much pleasure she could not bear to risk losing it.

When Violet left the coach and entered the last post house, a boy rose from his seat when she asked her question.

“Yes, milady,” he said. “I’ll tell them you’re here directly. Old Warren will be back within an hour.” He ran off without even asking for a tip, and she saw him ride out of the yard on a horse. She didn’t think that she looked like a lady. After the last few days, she probably looked like a pile of rags.

She spent the hour mostly on her feet. A carriage rattled up, and her messenger pointed her out to the driver.

“Miss Worden?” asked the driver. “You are expected.” He and the boy, who seemed to be named “Davy,” loaded her luggage, and the driver handed her in.

“Now Miss,” the apparent housekeeper greeted her at the door of Tallis Hall, “the men will take your luggage up. It’s late for luncheon, but I have some soup simmering. Would you like some, and some sliced cold beef and bread?”

That sounded good and tasted better. After the meal, the housekeeper suggested a bath, and ordered some footmen to carry it up to her dressing room. Now, she had never had a dressing room in her life. Anne had only had one after moving to London for the Season, and the same was true of Alice. In the dressing room, a maid introduced herself as Dorcas and said that she had hung up the clothes. She adjusted the bath to Violet’s preference and assisted her in undressing.

Violet lounged in the bath, with Dorcas sometimes warming it from one of the kettles on the hob. When it was either get out or fall asleep in the bath, Violet soaped herself, rinsed off, and got out. Dorcas dried her and led her to bed.

“May I suggest a lie down, Miss? Shall I wake you in time to dress for dinner?”

They had her confused with somebody else, but she was far too tired to explain.

She tried to when Dorcas woke her, but Dorcas had never heard of Deborah and had no idea where she was. Yet, this was Tallis Hall, and they were expecting Miss Violet Worden from London.

“Milord will tell you more at dinner,” Dorcas said. Did the servants of baronets call them “milord”? Would she be expected to? Of course, many women would call any man “milord” if he paid them to, but Dorcas seemed a very skilled lady’s maid. She could not be desperate for work.

Well, Dorcas dressed her for the dinner. and she went down the stairs. When she entered the dining room, she saw the Earl of Kalworth.

“Milord,” she gasped. She dropped a curtsey and almost went to the floor in a faint.

“The lovely Violet from Somerset finally blooms in Bucks.” Lord Richard proffered her a deep bow. “We are blessed by your presence.”

“Is it possible that this meeting is not an accident?” She looked at the table, and there were only two places set, at the head and close to it.

“Anything is possible,” Lord Richard allowed. “Will you join me at table?”

She walked over, dazedly. Two footmen came forward and seated them. Their knees touched, and fire shot through her. She moved her knees away until her thigh met the arm of the chair.

“I think, milord, that you should explain yourself,” she said. The footmen brought in the soup and poured the wine. She began to eat. It all smelled delicious, and she had several days of post-carriage travel behind her and suspected that she had as much ahead.