Chapter 13

Part 12: Of Riding And Rubber

A sudden event brings about a change in Amelia’s situation.

The Dower House

Brinswark Estate

Nr. Eyam

Derbyshire

14/05/03

Dear Lucy,

How good to hear from you and to know that your business enterprise is taking off so quickly. I am so happy to have been even the smallest inspiration and I hope to hear many tales from you of how it is going.

Of course, such a business could not flourish here in the UK for men get that sort of treatment in their everyday lives. Indeed, men have so little free income at their disposal that even were there the desire they would hardly form an economic proposition. The only remotely similar ventures that we have in England are the various behaviour schools that women can subscribe to so that their men get trained in specific skills. Luckily James was well brought up so I have had no need of these and of course we are lucky enough to have staff so that domestic duties are dealt with by those already skilled in them.

I can imagine, though, that in Paris there will be those like James that crave the attentions of a domineering woman but cannot avail themselves of it due to the strictures of the social order there.

I am not surprised that you already have a number of clients pledged to support your plans. Men have been so easily bent to the will of women here that I suspect it is something deep in their nature and could be done anywhere.

If, as I suspect, your venture is a success, then please let me offer what help I can. I suspect that French men look to the UK as the source of much expertise in this area. It would probably help impress your clients if you adopted an English accent. I can certainly find for you English suppliers of the sort of equipment that you will undoubtedly need. The way in which English saddle and tack makers have applied their skills to the manufacture of harnesses, other restraints and whips of all kinds for the submissive male is a testament to their skills. And of, course, the ingenuity of English dressmaking has created wonderful outfits to help a woman express her sense of superiority. I can let you know some useful firms to be in touch with and if you can get to England, now that you have a source of income, I would be only too happy to introduce you to some of them.

My pregnancy continues happily. I must confess to be very content and James sees to my every need. It is a little dull that both Lady Jefferson and James consider I should not take the slightest exertion but I know they are only concerned for my well being. Lady Jefferson is off hunting tomorrow but of course there is no question that I should take part. She says it is much too dangerous for a woman in my condition. (Although from the times I have tried it I feel it is fairly hazardous to all of the participants, whatever “condition” they are in.

Still, Anna and I are able to manage our trysts in the engine shed, which is some compensation. Her tender touch and kisses are more than sufficient compensation for the other restrictions on my life. She tries hard to be gentle with me but I confess to enjoying her roughness. As I get bigger, Miss Mifton’s more sculpted creations no longer fit me – I fear your clients would no longer think me the perfect image of an English dominatrix – but her taffeta smocks are proving extremely comfortable. The doctor feels that all is going well, so it is just a matter of waiting until the baby is ready to arrive – probably in late August.

Your friend,

Amelia.

Brinswark Hall

Nr. Eyam

Derbyshire

15/05/03

Dear Mama,

I am sorry, but this letter brings with it very sad tidings.

There is no easy way to tell you this. I have just learned that Lady Jefferson has been killed in a most unfortunate hunting accident.

I know that you will be devastated to hear this as you and she had become great friends when you were making the arrangements for my marriage. She often spoke of how grateful she was that you came to her aid by introducing me to her son. I am sure you will be most saddened to hear of her demise.

The poor woman was thrown from her mare while riding in pursuit of a fox with the Gresham Hunt. Her mount shied as she tried to jump a gate. It was a tragic piece of misfortune. Every attempt was made to revive her but it seems she had broken her neck on falling and died instantly. She was a skilled rider and I am sure no one could have done any more to stay on. The poor horse fell too and broke its leg. It had to be destroyed. Lady Jefferson would have been heart-broken for she was deeply fond of her.

James, of course, is completely bereft. I have tried to comfort him as best I can. Needless to say, an air of gloom has settled over the Hall. Lady Jefferson was well regarded by all the staff and they seem as upset as any of us.

I share their sadness. Her ladyship was so kind to me and she made things here so much easier than they might have been. I must thank her memory, too, for the way in which she brought her son up. I suppose he is her gift to me.

I wonder what my own situation will be now as I am only too aware that I have been dependent on her benefaction for so much. She has been paying all the doctor’s bills (she was quick to come to examine me after the news broke as, she said, bad news can have a disturbing effect on a woman in my condition) and the Dower House is provided to us by the estate, even if we were not living here in the hall. James tells me I must not worry but I fear the way of things here is that he will have little influence on coming events.

I will write again when I know more.

Your loving daughter, Amelia

Brinswark Hall

Nr. Eyam

Derbyshire

22/05/03

Dear Mama,

Well, as you can imagine, it has been a sad day. The funeral was held in the Hall’s chapel with the same clergywoman that officiated at my wedding to James. It was obvious from her address that she had known Lady Jefferson for a long time and held her in high regard. Her ladyship was interred in the family vault with so many of her ancestors and the ceremony was sombre but, in a strange way, comforting. It was a cold, grey, day but late afternoon sunshine sent light streaming in through the chapel’s stained glass windows, dappling colours across the cold white marble of the chapel altar and the various monuments to others of the Jefferson line to add a little cheer. James is, understandably, still very upset and stood sobbing and gripping my hand throughout the whole thing. When he first went into the chapel and saw the top hat and riding whip that his mother always used sitting on top of the coffin, I thought that he would faint right away but I tried to comfort him as much as I could...

I need not have been concerned regarding my position here. After her ladyship’s funeral, the family were all gathered together in the library here at the Hall by Lady Jefferson’s solicitor, Amanda Jones. She is a large, middle-aged woman with greying hair and pince-nez glasses and a very formal manner, which I suppose is fitting. She was followed around by a small, fragile-looking man, his skin as thin as paper over his quite bald head. He was carrying a battered brown briefcase from which he extracted documents in response to each nod or beckoning gesture. They made a curious couple.

Jones proceeded to tell us all of the arrangements made for bequests under Lady Jefferson’s will. It was quite like a scene from one of those detective novels of which you are so fond. The various relatives were sitting around with expressions that tried to appear disinterested and suitably sombre while at the same time they were being obviously hopeful.

I was astonished to learn that I had been gifted the entirety of the Brinswark Estate, the Hall and a substantial income on the understanding that all would eventually pass to my daughter. Her poor husband is left without a penny. His wife’s sole reference to him was that she “hoped his sister would provide for him” but that her responsibilities and now mine were for the continuation of her line. It felt almost as though he was being punished for failing to give her the daughter she longed for but he looked resigned to what he had heard. Regarding James, she only said that she was happy that he had been a dutiful son and found a wife who had done what was needed for the future of the Jeffersons. Of course, that was a little premature as I suspect that I was not even pregnant at the time she had made her will, but never mind.

Lady Jefferson’s sister and a few of her riding friends received small bequests of pictures and some of her horses and there were a number of financial gifts to some of the staff; her own maid, the house-keeper, and the cook.

There were some glum faces amongst the family when Amanda Jones had finished. I am sure that some of them had unrealised expectations, but they were all (except Cora) charming towards me, saying how happy I had made Lady Jefferson, what a good job they thought I would make of running the estate and how they hoped for the best for my unborn child. Some of it may have been empty flattery in the hope of some preferment now that I am mistress of the estate, but some, I am sure was sincere.

Directly afterwards, I spoke to the staff to assure them that things would continue as before at the Hall – I can think of no more delightful place to live and I know that James would be destitute to think we were leaving Brinswark. I also thanked them for their efforts in putting the house into mourning and in arranging the funeral. They seemed very accepting of me, which I put down to the fact that my pregnancy is now becoming evident and the arrival of an heiress will in their view secure the future of the estate. I saw Anna at the back of the group of staff, looking particularly dejected. I suspect she is concerned about the future of our affair. I am not sure myself how things will be, but, oh, how I will miss her if this changes things between us.

Sadly the housekeeper has decided to use her small legacy to retire. I shall miss her experience Luckily Hasty, who has proven her worth in my service, has agreed to step up into the roll.

I spoke further with Amanda Jones after all the others had left. Then, towards the end of our conversation, she referred to me as “your ladyship”. I said that I didn’t think things were quite as easy as that but she laughed and asked if I had not realised that the title had already passed automatically to me as the spouse of the eldest male child in the absence of a female heir. So there you have it; it seems that I am now Lady Amelia Jefferson, 14th Baroness of Brinswark. Such a thing had never occurred to me.

Another thing. I wrote to Papa over a month ago to tell him of the baby. Perhaps I should not be surprised not to have had a reply but it does upset me that he cannot see past his objections to my match with James. I would love for us to be reconciled but beyond supposing that he feels slighted in some way, I cannot imagine why he continues to ignore us. If you have the chance please let him know that I want us to be reunited in affection.

Your daughter,

Amelia.

Brinswark Hall

Nr. Eyam

Derbyshire

18/05/03

Dearest Lucy,

Thank you so much for the telegraph message with your condolences. I shall miss James’s mother terribly. She was always kind and gave me the best of advice. And, most of all, she gave me my beloved James.

I will not bother you with the details of the funeral as no doubt you have heard it all from Mama but there was one extraordinary thing. As I walked into the chapel, with James and Lady Julia’s husband behind the coffin, I saw Beckworth standing alone at the back of the chapel. She had her eyes cast down so did not see that I had noticed her and she had gone by the time I went to leave the church afterwards. I thought I saw her exchanging words with Cora Jefferson in the church yard as she was leaving, though what they had to discuss I cannot imagine. She was wearing what looked to be a very expensive black fur coat, so perhaps I have no need to feel guilty about her dismissal after all.