Violet Says Yes
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2018 by Uther Pendragon

Historical Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Violet Worden was the daughter of a vicar, and thus -- barely -- a gentlewoman. Then tragedy made her a poor, if learned, orphan. She made herself into a governess by pluck and skill. She could never go higher, and she chastised herself for letting an Earl enter her dreams.

Caution: This Historical Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   NonConsensual   First  

Prelude

1784.

Baron Stephen Demarris was in a temper. “Are you a complete idiot, George.”

“Father, arithmetic is very hard. I passed Latin, and you made threats about that last term.”

“You passed Latin. You did not excel in it. And I am not the one making threats this time. When you return to Harrow, they will test you. If you do not pass that test, you will return on the next coach. Now, do you think that you can learn? Or should I beat it into you?”

“The master already tried that. A caning does not improve my memory.”

The baron approached the local vicar who was also the schoolmaster.

“School is out for the season, Milord.”

“George needs to learn arithmetic. Is there anyone in the village who could teach him?”

“Young Rob Worden was my best student in all the time I can remember, milord.”

Young Rob was a laborer on a local farm. The baron could easily top those wages. Rob was promised, but the farmer let him go at the baron’s inquiry as to when the lease on the farm was up for renewal. It was not for five years, but the farmer did not wish to risk the baron’s memory.

Rob was used to plying a hoe or a scythe from dawn to dusk. Hired for an easier task, he did not expect shorter hours. George did, but he did not choose to make that appeal to his father. Rob and George came to an agreement; satisfactory progress on one day meant that they would take their slates down to the orchard on the next day if it were dry. Otherwise they stayed in the attic schoolroom.

George graduated from Harrow, and went on to Oxford the following year.

“We have sent a blockhead to Oxford,” said the baron. Why not send a scholar as well?” The next year he offered to pay tuition and an allowance for Rob to attend Oxford. George was still there, but neither lad wished to renew the acquaintance.

As a peasant with a degree, Robert Worden saw few opportunities ahead of him. He took holy orders, and became a vicar in Somerset, far from his native Suffolk.

1792

Robert married Sophia, daughter of the vicar of a neighboring parish. She kept his house, and bore his children. If either was ever dissatisfied with the other, no neighbor ever heard of it.

Reverend Worden kept school for the children of his parish, and taught his own children not only the school subjects but Latin and Greek as well.

The Wordens were not lucky in their children, and only the first and third survived into adulthood, Richard, and Violet, who was born in 1795. Vicars were seldom well paid, and Worden was paid rather less than the average. He saved a small sum, though, and his son entered Oxford.

There was a little more set by for Violet’s dowry when she came of age. Violet was comely, but vicars seldom can afford to let that overrule the dowry. As a daughter of a Church of England priest, Violet was a gentlewoman; she could not marry lower. As the granddaughter of a peasant, she could hardly expect to marry higher. Besides which, she was unlikely to even meet many single gentlemen who were not clergy. Meanwhile, she helped her mother with the house and taught some of the younger children in her father’s school.

1811

Everything was going acceptably, if not swimmingly, when the village experienced a pestilential spring. Violet helped her mother tend to the sick until they both caught the disease. By the time Violet recovered, she was an orphan.

There was no room for Violet in the vicarage, and the only reason that she could stay until she had recovered was that the incumbent was irresponsibly lax in naming another vicar. She took her few belongings on an agonizing coach trip to London and another to Suffolk. Then she had to hire a carter to take her to her Uncle Daniel’s house.

When term ended, Richard joined her.

Her relatives expected her to work as they did, and she found herself without the skills to do that work. She finally found work as a pantry maid for the local baron -- ironically, a later Baron Demarris.

Richard worked for the same farmer as Uncle Daniel.

“What are we going to do?” Richard asked her one night. “The doctor’s payments sucked Father’s savings down. What you got for the harpsichord was nowhere near what it cost Father. Is the total enough for your dowry?”

“Well, it is enough -- just -- to pay your last year.”

“If I take my degree and then take orders, what will you do? I shan’t have enough to pay your dowry for years.”

“Well, the vicar of this parish is married,” Violet said. “Two of his children are married. I see no chance of a suitor, even if we save every farthing for a dowry. You, on the other hand, can take orders and have a life with the savings we have.”

“And what will you do?”

“Something,” Violet said forcefully. She could do a great deal, if she could not do what was wanted in this corner of England.

When the baron’s daughter visited, she brought her children and the oldest granddaughter’s governess, Violet caught the governess just a little tipsy and feeling generous.

“How did you land this job?” Violet asked.

“Punishment for my sins, and I have not committed them yet. I plan to, though. Have you heard that girl sing?”

Violet would not call it singing, but she had more serious questions.

“Who recommended you to Lady Charlotte?”

“There is an agency. London contains agencies for all sorts of occupations.”

With a little more wheedling, Violet got the name and address. She wrote to the agency.

1812

For the longest time, she received no answer. Then there was a chance, A Family in Shropshire had an opening if she could apply immediately. She dipped into her and Richard’s reserve to pay for the coaches and the meals on the way.

She showed up on the Montraven’s doorstep with fare back and a halfpenny more in her pocket. Lady Montraven asked her questions, but she also sounded desperate. When Violet said that she had some Greek, the lady openly scoffed. She asked to have her husband join them.

When she had written the alphabet for him, Viscount Albert accepted her claim. “Honestly, Hortensia, if she can do that much, she probably can do what she said. How was she to know the limits of my learning?”

“Well, I do not want Alice taught Greek, in any case.”

“If you did, milady,” Violet said, “I should not be suitable for that task. After all, the village butcher can probably read and write. You would not want him teaching those skills.”

So, she was hired as governess for Alice and -- almost as an afterthought -- Anne. Alice had a little more than a year to prepare for her Season. Mamselle had left with brief warning, and her leadership was now considered faulty. That Violet was daughter to a cleric was considered a point in her favor.

It was later, and from the daughters, that Violet learned that Mamselle would have a baby, not four months after she had left.

Violet was not staff, for all that she slept in the attic beside the schoolroom. Staff called her, “Miss Worden”; they called the girls “Lady Alice” and “Lady Anne.” Violet used their first names, and they called her “Miss.”

Soon, Parliament went into session, and the parents left for the Season.

Violet thought that the girls knew more French than she did. She did not bother them with her accent, but assigned them a half hour of conversation with each other every day. One day, she saw that the conversation was amusing them rather than boring them. Without showing the least sign of interest, she listened acutely. She did not know some of the words, but it was clear that they were being obscene.

“Stop now,” she said. Though it was early, that was how she ended the daily exercise.

“Music next?” asked Alice.

“No. Alice, go down to the kitchen and ask Cook for a knife. Then go out into the yard and cut two switches and bring them up here. If the switches are too weak, I shall cut them for myself, and you will not like the result.”

“You really thought I would not notice?” she asked Anne when Alice was on her way.

“We thought you were not that good at French. Those were special words that Mamselle used when she thought we were not listening.”

“Well, you will learn something from this day’s lessons. Sometimes, you think someone knows more than she knows. Sometimes you think that she knows less than she knows. It is unwise to risk much on either assumption, but the second one is an insult to the person you misjudge.”

When Alice returned, Violet had Anne bend over a stool, and gave her four good strokes. Then she gave six to Alice as the ringleader and the one who should have been more responsible.

“You notice that I beat your sister first?” she asked Alice. “That is because the anticipation is part of the punishment, and you deserved the greater punishment. Your delay on the way only increased your anticipation, and thus your punishment.” Then she made them practice orthography -- sitting on their stools -- for the time they would usually have music as well as their usual orthography lesson,

She found books on history and geography. She read them first and taught them after.

She asked Cook -- who was really the second cook; the Montravens had taken Cook with them to London -- what Lady Montraven would do about meal plans.

“Milady always talks to Cook after Friday luncheon. They plan the week’s menus together.”

“Well, you have Lady Alice here. Friday after luncheon, you shall sit down with her, her sister, and myself to plan out the meals for the next week. Since Lady Alice has not done this before, you will explain all the issues that must be addressed.”

After warning Anne that she was to listen and not speak, that is what they did. Alice scheduled all her favorite meals, and none of some other dishes, for the coming week. They ate richly.

On Tuesday, after music, she gave the girls leave to go out into the garden with one of the parlor maids to see that they did not run altogether wild. She went into the kitchen to see Cook.

“Do you have a budget?” she asked.

“I had one, Miss. You and the young lady broke it entirely.” Now Violet had not made one suggestion about meals; she had only asked what Alice had forgotten. First, she had asked Alice, and then she had asked Cook. Still, she ignored the complaint to get a full statement of the budget and the price of foods.

For arithmetic lessons, she had each girl plan out a week’s menus with the cost under the budget limits. The girls were surprised at the necessity for planning for the staff -- not only how much they ate, which rather surprised Violet, but that they ate at all.

Both girls were what Violet considered ill-trained in music. She brought them up two levels on the harpsichord, and taught them to tune it themselves. As an hour’s play could ruin the tune and the key of the piece determined the tuning, leaving the task to a footman seemed unreasonable to Violet. Besides, the footmen were not particularly musical.

The voices of both girls were untrained, but Anne sounded lovely when she was brought on pitch.

Violet accompanied the girls when they sang, and the lessons necessitated her playing for them what she wanted them to play. She got in the habit, as well, of playing for her own amusement while the girls were otherwise engaged. She was in charge of the girls, and they were as much of the family which was present. There was nobody to say her nay.

When the parents returned for Christmas, Lady Montraven was well pleased by the girls’ progress.

She was deep in a piece on the harpsichord when the viscountess came into the music room. She stopped abruptly.

“I was hoping that was Alice playing. I suppose it is too much to hope that she would develop that much skill,” said Lady Montraven.

“I am sorry, your ladyship.”

“We want you to teach Alice, among other things to teach her to play.”

“Yes, Milady. I shan’t presume again,” Violet said. And, having said that, she could not play in her ladyship’s absence, either. She had not been quite cheating on those occasions, and she felt guilty for the sadness she felt on knowing that she could not have that not-quite-cheating pleasure again.

“Not what I meant. I suppose that you can teach better if you are in practice.”

“Yes, Milady.”

“Then keeping in practice is not presumption. It is working to give the best service you can ... Besides, I enjoyed hearing you. I suppose that the dream of hearing Alice play like that is just a dream.”

“Milady, Alice plays better than when I came. At the start of the next Season, she will play quite respectably.” There was no sense in saying that Alice lacked musicality. She would play with technical skill, and she would tune the harpsichord to the key of the piece she would play. Alice was a lovely young woman, and that loveliness would break a few hearts if Violet were any judge. Her playing never would. “Anne, on the other hand, has a truly lovely voice.”

“There is that to look forward to. Alice is the worry for the next year and a half, though.”

“Yes, Milady.”

“And her deficiencies are our fault,” Lady Montraven said, “and not yours.”

Violet judged the statement too true for her to express honest disagreement, so she expressed nothing.

When the parents returned to London, Violet maintained her schedule until parliament rose. That summer, Alice had a dancing master, and Violet’s responsibility for her was correspondingly reduced.

For Alice’s Season, Violet and Anne were left alone with an even more reduced staff. Alice wrote her sister, who shared the letters with Violet. Violet regretted the handwriting and spelling. Anne suffered a concentration on orthography

Anne, who had started with a lovely singing voice, developed a real talent under Violet’s training. They both enjoyed music, and it became a major portion of their time together. Not only would Violet accompany Anne’s singing and train her to play, Anne would sit and listen to Violet play, as well. Without really relaxing discipline, they became friends.

Alice was married from home, and for the period of a little more than a fortnight of preparation, lessons were suspended. Violet, who had heard more of the vicar’s sermons in her time there than Alice and Anne put together in the five years the vicar had served, attended the wedding sitting with the staff.

Anne, who had learned that Violet did not ride, bullied her onto Anne’s horse. They walked around the stable yard. Then Anne persuaded her mother to lend Violet her saddle and the mare that the Countess had ridden until it became too old. Anne took Violet out riding. The pace frightened Violet, although a groom ran along with them in case of accidents.

For the summer, Violet had Anne mostly to herself, with frequent interactions with the parents. When a guest came to dinner without the wife who had been expected, Lady Montraven had a dinner gown sewed tighter and gave it to Violet with a corset. Violet attended dinner, and everybody nicely pretended that the dress fit. Violet could keep the dress, and with the help of the servant who had done the quick fix, she altered it so that it really fit.

Then, the Montravens went to London for the Season. Anne was the family at the Hall, and Violet ruled Anne. Neither took advantage, but when the schoolroom was too hot or too cold, they took lessons elsewhere in the house. Anne was sounding like a real singer, and she played the harpsichord excellently for a lady. Violet searched the library, and she found some interesting tomes to teach. Anne searched the library, and she found some books which should not be in the hands of a young virgin. Violet scolded her, but she thought that the fault lay in her father, who was not for Violet to judge.

The next summer, the family had frequent concerts for themselves. Violet accompanied Anne’s singing, played occasional duets with her, and -- at Lady Montraven’s suggestion -- also played some harpsichord solos, herself.

Then, it was Anne’s Season. Anne begged her mother to take Violet along, and Violet agreed to continue in their employ until Anne was married or the Season was over.

The London she saw from Montraven House was not the city that she had passed through twice. It was, however, as large. She had a room, originally a guest room, on the second floor of Montraven House. She was on one side of Anne’s room, while Anne’s dressing room was on the other. Violet did not eat with the staff. When Anne was away, as she usually was, she ate in her room. Again, Lady Montraven needed another woman, and Violet dined with the family and guests.

Whenever Anne bought new clothes, she modeled them for Violet. When she dressed for a ball, Violet saw her in her glory before she went down to the carriage. Twice, the Montravens had evenings where Anne sang as the entertainment, and Violet accompanied her both times.

Then, Anne wanted to go driving in Saint James Park. She wanted to take the curricle, and she wanted to go right then. Hilda, her maid, had a cold.

“Please, Miss, can you come with me?” Well, Anne was insistent, and she clearly could not go alone. Violet accompanied her. Violet enjoyed the trip through the London streets, even in the cold. Saint James Park was almost as crowded as the streets outside, but more than half the persons were on horseback, and all were either gentry or their servants.

Soon after they rolled into the park, men rode up on either side. Looking at her side, Violet had a moment’s fear that he was a highwayman, although he dressed as a gentleman and they were in the sight of a hundred souls.

“Lady Anne,’ said the other one.

“My lords,” said Anne, “may I present Miss Violet Worden? Miss Worden, these are Richard, Earl Kalworth and his brother, Lord James Griffon.” She went rattling on about what a coincidence it was to meet them. Coincidence? Half the London aristocracy was riding in Saint James Park this morning. Violet suspected that this meeting had been arranged.

The man on her side of the curricle -- apparently the earl, for he was clearly older -- was riding the tallest hunter that she had ever seen. It was a massive, dark-haired beast. That description could fit either horse or rider.

The difference was that the horse was probably a gelding. The rider, without the least effort, exuded masculinity.

“Milord,” Violet said. Anne and Lord James were talking. It was her duty to keep the frightening brother entertained.

“And how did a Somerset violet come to bloom in a London park?” he asked. His voice was soft and deep. Violet suddenly wanted to ask whether he sang. Courtesy would answer his question first.

“I was Lady Anne’s governess. The family brought me to London for her Season.” She did not want to imply that a lady going through her Season would still need a governess. “I sometimes accompany her when she sings. Lady Anne has a beautiful voice.”

“And only tuppence a yard.” He was implying that she was hawking Lady Anne. Well, she had been, when you get down to it.

“Much finer material, milord. You couldn’t touch it for less than sixpence a yard. Really, though, she does have a lovely voice. I am not trying to cozen you, merely to suggest that you hear her.”

“And what of that lovely voice can be attributed to her teacher?”

“The loveliness, not a whit,” she said. “I helped train her to stay on pitch, and I taught her many of the songs that she sings. You are either born to have a lovely voice, however, or you are not.”

“You minimize your own contributions.”

“Milord, I was raised to be honest. I neither minimize nor maximize what I have done. Give me talent to work with, and I can raise a musical artist. If I do not start with talent, I can produce only a plodding technician.”

“Ho, James,” the earl said suddenly, “save the rest of your courting for another day. I came here to ride.” After another minute of small talk -- Lord James was clearly not impressed by his brother’s ultimatum, they rode off.

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.