Chapter 9

Part 7: The Social Whirl

In which Amelia begins to broaden her horizons.

...

Brinswark Hall

Nr. Eyam

Derbyshire

3/8/02

Dear Mama,

I am installed at the Hall for a short visit at Lady Jefferson’s request and, much as I love our little cottage this is a veritable treat. How grand the Hall is. Much of it is over three hundred years old, a testament to the continuous prosperity enjoyed by the country from the reign of Elizabeth I onwards. I am sure there is nothing in Brabant that can approach it, save for the Duke’s palace and that would come a poor second.

I have quite failed to discover just how many bedrooms it has and the place has so many back stairs and hidden doors that staff come and go without ever impinging on those of us enjoying Lady Jefferson’s hospitality. Even the notepaper I have in my room is grand as you can see. I felt I just had to write to let you see it.

I am not sure James is enjoying the visit quite as much as I. I suspect that he feels the comforts of the Hall are no compensation for having to endure the scrutiny of his mother. Our life together is a good deal more relaxed than the way Lady Jefferson thinks things should be done.

Lady Jefferson has been keen to show me off, it seems. I have had to cope with several formal events, dinners, parties and the like. At times I have felt a little like a curiosity exhibited in a circus but I believe I have shown Lady Jefferson and her friends that a girl from the “low countries” (as they term it here) need not behave in a low-born manner. You can be quite proud of me.

Much of the conversation at these events has centred around hunting, riding, shooting or fishing. These are matters in which I have little experience and less interest but while I may not be able to match their enthusiasm for English country sports I have tried to be at least an attentive participant in the conversation of Lady Jefferson’s guests. They in their turn have been charming and friendly, although with interests very different from my own. And, I am certainly learning a great deal about what English family life is like.

I have been surprised by the high regard in which my fellow house guests hold their animals. Some delight in well-bred hounds, some in horses, some even in the rearing of pigs (which Lady Jefferson claims are the most intelligent of beasts). For the most part they appear to treat their animals a great deal better than they treat the men in their lives. They certainly fuss over and boast about their animals a great deal more than their men; they seem to rarely have a good word to say about any of their consorts and often an entire evenong passes without a mention of them.

For my part, I am determined to treat James just as well as I can for I believe that kind words will make for a kinder life between us. Lady Jefferson’s friends would view that as dangerous heresy, I fear. Still, while society might require that I keep him leashed and muzzled on occasion as we used to with the dogs back in De Helder, he shall have every kindness from me and I am sure he will treat me the same in return.

Hoping that you are well, your affectionate daughter ... Amelia.

...

The Connaught Hotel

Belgrave Square

London W1

12/8/02

Dear Lucy,

Your news was both disturbing and exciting. It must have taken great bravery to defy your father’s choice of spouse. I am sure that your determination will pay off. But, how barbaric of him to react as he did.

Your hair will soon grow back if you are allowed to let it. Of course, wearing your scalp naked in public would shame your father for having failed to subdue you. I suspect you might be tempted to keep it that way! I hope that the two of you can come to an accommodation but without you surrendering your principles. Your father always struck me as a reasonable man – unlike my own – and perhaps his current behaviour towards you is only born of excessive protectiveness. I sometimes think men find it as hard to accept that women grow up as do women to accept that men don’t! Let me know how things progress for you.

For my part, - as you will see from the heading to this letter - I have taken a few days to come up to town.

I thought that James should accompany me – I didn’t like the idea of him spending time on his own and getting up to who-knows-what sort of mischief in my absence. (Oh dear, you see how easily I have slipped into the English way of viewing men and their behaviour.) Her ladyship arranged for a motor to take us to the station. Anna was driving – her cool skill at the wheel as we sped along country lanes only added to my infatuation with her. When we reached the railway she unloaded our bags and took them through to the platform before turning to wish me a pleasant trip “If you don’t think that too forward, Miss,” she said. I could not tell her that I think of little else than Anna being “forward” with me!

In London we have returned to the Connaught Hotel as you will see. This morning we went along to Miss Mifton’s establishment as I was hoping to acquire some new outfits.

Miss Mifton was every bit as helpful as before and showed me some of her latest lines. It seems that very high collars are “in” this year and I must admit to quite coveting one garment that had a high leather collar from which a ring of vicious looking spikes erupts. I thought it might help remind James to be careful when he is around me. Miss Mifton quite agreed and invited me to try it on, while explaining just where the leather had been sourced from and who had stitched it and all sorts of other fascinating details about the garment. James however was evidently getting bored and was pacing up and down in an impatient way. Miss Mifton frowned and then asked me if I let him behave like that. I said what did she suggest? She just smiled and said she would deal with it.

Well, Miss Mifton is a rather slender woman, not more than five feet two inches tall but for all that she is evidently as hard as nails. In a moment she had forced James to his knees, wrenched his arms behind him and bound his wrists with her dress maker’s measuring tape. James could only splutter in protest as she sat on his back and bound his ankles too. A moment more and she had rolled him over, grabbed a couple of scarves from a counter display and used them to gag him. With a strength that belied her slight frame she wrestled him to his feet and into one of the changing booths where she sat him down and drew the curtain on him. Returning to me, she said we could continue without distraction and so we did.

I tried on a number of outfits. I was definitely pleased to escape James’ impatience, save for the occasional grunt of protest coming from the changing booth and eventually selected three, including the one with the spike collar. Can you imagine how some of those lads that used to lunge at us for a kiss at the local dance would cope with something like that? They would end up looking like the victims of one one of Mr Stoker’s vampires! I also chose one with beautifully tailored leather trousers with lacing down the sides so that they can be drawn tightly to the form of the leg. After James’ experience with being tightly bound, he might like to lace me into them. What would Papa’s reaction be to seeing me in trousers? Oh, my, it scarcely bears imagining. I wonder what Beckworth will think of them. I am beginning to wonder if her enthusiasm for our activities is rather more than I would expect from a helpful domestic and whether I should assert my position as mistress of the household with her as much as I do with James. Still I must confess that I do find her instructive sessions most enjoyable and she is considerably better at pleasuring me physically than my poor husband. James is the perfect attentive partner in most respects, but I fear that his lack of experience in the pleasuring of a woman makes his efforts more enthusiastic than sensual.

We set James free after we had finished and he was suitably chastened. He apologised to Miss Mifton for his behaviour without too much urging from me. I really think that I am getting the hang of keeping him in order. He obviously did not intend to be difficult. I am certain that it was just a moment’s inattention.

At Miss Mifton’s suggestion, I decided that James should be restrained for the afternoon to help him focus his mind and by way of a reminder of his need to behave. So, having bound him helplessly on the bed (I suspect he thought this was the prelude to some sexual play), I announced my intention to enjoy an excursion, hung the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the outside of our bedroom door, and took myself off to Hyde Park. You will think me unspeakably cruel but I hardly gave James a thought as I enjoyed the summer sunshine. Ms. Brunel, the well know engineer, has installed a remarkable amusement which I took advantage of. It is a sort of aerial railway with comfortable cars that hang from a cable slung between pylons. The cable is driven by a powerful steam engine and the cars run so smoothly that one is conveyed around the park above the crowds in a stately manner. I almost felt like royalty. James was very distressed when I returned but profusely apologetic and desperate to reassure me of his constant devotion. It does seem that the worse I treat him, the better he behaves.

The trip to London also allowed me to meet with the two new friends that I told you about. Zinawe Ndoso is a fabulously beautiful girl from Nigeria. She moves like a panther and has piercing eyes that give her a look that is sometimes haughty. With me, though, she is funny and kind and laughs readily at my various tales of life with James. Monique Stephane is a thoughtful girl. Brought up on the outskirts of Paris, she is far more worldly wise than I. We all met up for lunch in a restaurant not far from Piccadilly Circus, where the statue of cupid stands ready to fire her arrows into any unwitting passer by. I was keen to discover what their marriage expectations were but neither intends to wed soon. In this group, it seems, I am a pioneer.

Zinawe is making the most of the freedom she has to choose which ever man she likes in London. She belongs to a club when men are paraded and members can choose one to keep them company for the evening. She hasn’t met one yet, she says, that would be worth meeting a second time! Mostly they are dumbly submissive, it seems. I can understand that – she is such an imposing figure that she would command respect from anyone instantaneously. She says I am so lucky to have James and to be able to discuss art and literature with him at least.

Monique looked on rather disapprovingly at this. She feels that men are badly treated here and that women ought not to take advantage of them. I suppose I have less sympathy for them after growing up in Brabant. Maybe in Paris men are of a sophisticated and reasonable nature and do not belittle or oppress our sex or perhaps my feelings are conditioned by the oppression that was such a feature of our childhood. Monique has been involved with some of the groups that are campaigning for improved treatment of men. She seems much more measured and sensible about things than the writings in the popular press would have me believe, so I am prepared to learn what I can from her. I do seem to be lucky with James though. Although he can be tiresome on occasion, for the most part he is as sweet as anything (and if anything gets sweeter, the closer we get to the time of the month when his cage can be removed!)

I didn’t share tales of my experiences with Beckworth; those are our secret, you and I. I must confess though that, while I have been in London, I have missed being able to have her bury her head between my thighs to charm my fanny with her tongue. It does so tease James to have to watch us and the poor dear does suffer so from the arousal it causes and the unforgiving nature of his cock cage. I sometimes feel a little guilty at putting him through it but he is learning to get better at doing the same for me and at least when his mouth is on my fanny he can’t bore me with his hunting stories.

James and I went to an exhibition of romantic art at the gallery in Trafalgar Square. It was good to share our love of fine pictures as we wandered around. As we were leaving the gallery I saw the great painting of Judith Slaying Holofernes by Artemisia Gentileschi which is on loan here. I found it more than a little daunting and I think James did too as he stammered when I asked him what he thought of it. He is not normally slow to answer me but he seemed quite flustered. “I would hate to think of you and Beckworth taking a knife to me,” he said, blushing, which was very odd since I had suggested nothing of the kind ... He is a strange man sometimes.

It has been wonderful to be in London and enjoy its pleasures but it will be good to get back to Derbyshire for the fresh air and countryside. I do sometimes miss the open polders of Brabant, too though not, I must confess, the wide open spaces of the minds of Brabanter men.

Yours,

Amelia.

...

The Dower House

Brinswark Estate

Nr. Eyam

Derbyshire

15/8/02

Dear Zinawe,

I have to share my latest news! I remember you saying how easy it was to control a man if you just found his little weakness. Well, James is not so difficult to manage but I do believe I have found a way to ensure he pays me every bit of attention that I wish and I thought you would be amused to learn of it.

While I was in London, I had the good luck to acquire some splendid leather trousers. They are extremely tight with laces at the sides so that they fit me like a second skin. (I could quite imagine you wearing something similar to the club you told me about.)

Well, I chose to wear them for dinner yesterday evening together with a new pair of short, scarlet boots with spindly heels and thick soles (I wish I could walk in heels with the elegance you manage!). The effect on James was remarkable. As I stepped into the room, his jaw fell open and he was quite struck dumb. It was clear that my outfit had the desired effect. Beckworth has encouraged me to speak to him sternly when I wish to get him to behave well, so I told him to get to his knees and put his face to the floor instead of staring at my new trousers. It was funny to see how quickly he obeyed, apologising all the time for any unintended lack of respect that he may have shown. He was cowering at my feet as Beckworth, the maid, appeared to serve the meal.

Needless to say, she was greatly amused, and said, “Very good, ma’am, I see you are quite getting the hang of things,” which I thought just a little familiar. “Thank you, Beckworth, that will be all,” I responded in as frosty a tone as I could muster (I have learned a little from listening to Lady Jefferson). Although Beckworth has been a great help to me I am sure that Lady Jefferson would expect her to know her place in the household. I think she realised she had crossed a line, for she put down the food without another word, bobbed a curtsy and left James and I to our meal. I think I am beginning to understand how best to manage James but I am not so sure about Beckworth. I was never used to having staff at home and while it is second nature to Lady Jefferson and her set, for me it is a whole new experience.