Chapter 11: AnneMarie Meets Her Relatives-To-Be

James and I whiled away the next several days at the Waldorf-Astoria, through Christmas. James laughed delightedly when I gave him my present of boxing gloves. As I expected, James’ gifts to me, which were numerous, consisted primarily of beautiful jewelry, which he insisted I model for him wearing nothing but the jewelry. As a practical matter, he made a number of such gifts to me, so I spent many evenings modeling these fineries, and of course, displaying my thanks for these gifts in the most intimate of fashions. I swallowed many delicious spendings and received innumerable more in my cunny and arse during these sessions!

Several days after Christmas, however, Harry called upon us to make a brief visit, so I was perforce required to dress in more than my gems. We greeted Harry warmly, and exchanged presents, though AnneMarie was not with him. I considered this rather odd, since they were such a close couple, and Harry gave me a rather rueful look. “Harry, what is the problem?” I asked, and he explained.

Harry was in a fine pickle, and one of his own making, and no pun is intended based upon his family’s products! AnneMarie had brought him to meet her family the day after Christmas, and the meeting had not gone well! “Her father does not trust me at all, her brothers are very suspicious, and her mother didn’t speak to me at all! She jabbered to her sisters in Italian, and never spoke English once in my presence! I have no idea what was said, but AnneMarie looked very worried and rushed me out of the house after our meal.”

“Why did they mistrust you?” asked James curiously.

“Well, I think that her brothers do not quite buy my tale of working in a pickle factory,” Harry replied, rather lamely I thought.

James and I stared at our distraught friend, then burst into laughter. “You have brought this on yourself, my friend! You are certainly in a pickle now, aren’t you!” laughed James.

Harry gave us both a disgusted look, which bothered neither of us a wit, then hung his head. “Well, what do I do? I love her!”

“Well, silly, introduce her to your family,” I answered.

“What, now?”

“Well, when were you going to do it, the night before the wedding?” I asked with a hint of exasperation.

Harry looked quite frazzled at the idea. “Well, no, but, eh, no ... Now?”

I threw my hands into the air and looked at James, who returned a whimsical shrug, then looked back at our guest. “Now, Harry, better done sooner than later.”

He hung his shoulders in resignation, and said, “I suppose so, but you will have to come with us.”

“What?” exclaimed James.

Harry began nodding his head fiercely. “Yes, yes! You are AnneMarie’s friends. She will trust you, she’ll come along to Rhode Island with me if you go along. You’ve got to help me!” He argued further in this, and James and I reluctantly agreed to help this hapless swain finish pursuing the object of his desire. James and I agreed that if AnneMarie didn’t die of shock, or kill Harry afterwards, that the marriage would be a wondrous thing.

It was decided that Harry would invite us and AnneMarie to his family’s home in Newport for the New Year. He was very circumspect in describing his home and family to his curious fiancée, but James informed me privately that it was a fabulous mansion. The late Mister Kendrickson had spared no expense in building this marvel, employing an English architect and using Vermont marble, Hungarian brick, and Italian tile throughout. He had only survived the grand opening by six months, but Harry assured us that he truly enjoyed that period, and had been planning vast new projects, as well.

The train ride to Newport went quite well, with both AnneMarie and I giggling and whispering to our husbands-to-be about the possibility of riding in a private coach. I described James’ and my tryst on the way to New York, and AnneMarie wanted to do the same, but the coach was too crowded for such activities. Harry mentioned that he knew of a fellow with such a coach, and that he would endeavor to make such arrangements for James’ and my honeymoon. AnneMarie asked him, curious and confused, how a pickle company clerk could know such people, and Harry diverted the conversation hurriedly. It was obvious that Harry was long overdue in teaching his beloved his true situation.

Harry continued to duck the subject after we alighted at the train station. A pair of handsome sledges were waiting, along with a number of heavy furs and blankets. We were bundled into one such sledge and covered up warmly whilst the luggage followed in the second, then we set off for the Kendrickson estate. The trip took about an hour, what with the snow and poor condition of the roads, but we did not mind at all. Beneath the blankets and furs, James made the most familiar acquaintance with my body, touching me most freely beneath my skirt, so that by the time we arrived I was in a deplorably needful state, needful of James’ cock! AnneMarie had a flushed face that had nothing to do with the briskness of the weather, and I knew by Harry’s smile that they had participated in such shenanigans as well.

The coachman finally pulled up a long drive and AnneMarie stared at the immense house at the top of the hill. It was more than a mansion, it was a veritable palace, built along the lines of a French ducal chateau. The Kendricksons were certainly more conspicuous about their lifestyle than James! We rolled into an elaborate room at the side of the mansion, the horses and sledges pulling us onto a beautiful marble floor, and doors were shut behind us. This immense room was simply an anteroom where people could enter and leave their carriages without experiencing the elements!

AnneMarie stared as her head whirled around, gawking at the unbelievable immensity of the mansion and its grandeur and richness. Harry led us through the home to a magnificent foyer, with a staircase that circled to both the second and third floors, ignoring her repeated questions. I personally thought the most amusing was when AnneMarie asked if Harry’s mother worked there. I rolled my eyes at James when we heard that, but he simply shrugged wryly, and Harry muttered incomprehensibly in response.

We were in the foyer, and AnneMarie was demanding answers when we were greeted by an elegant woman descending the stairs. She was of a height intermediate to AnneMarie and I, with blonde and silver hair done up in a loose bun. She was a buxom woman, though not as well graced as either AnneMarie or I and was possessed of a trim figure. She had a handsome face, and I knew that when she was younger, she would have been exceedingly lovely. She was dressed richly but not ostentatiously and moved elegantly and easily. Joining her on the last landing was Harry’s brother Robert, and she tucked her arm through his and allowed him to squire her towards us. She was Harry’s mother, and Robert’s stepmother.

“Welcome home, Harry! So, this is the girl you finally trapped, heh? Welcome, dear,” she said with a smile, pulling AnneMarie towards her and giving a kiss to her cheek.

“Harry?” asked AnneMarie weakly, looking wildly at the man she had just discovered she really did not know.

“Uh, AnneMarie, I’d like you to meet my mother...”

The introduction of Robert had to wait. AnneMarie swooned, her eyes rolling up into their sockets, and fainted, collapsing backwards against James, who swore lightly and lifted her in his arms. Mrs. Kendrickson looked at the incredible scene and shook her head. “What in the world have you done now, Harry?”

Harry simply gave his mother an abject look. It was James who answered, “You won’t believe it when he tells you.” He looked around and Robert laughingly led us into a parlor, where James lowered AnneMarie to a couch and laid her out. Several servants had appeared by now and one was sent to fetch smelling salts and water, whilst others took our coats and other belongings.

“You would be surprised what I might believe of my son. Who are you?” she asked.

Harry made a set of rapid introductions, much to his brother’s amusement. He announced that he knew us as well but was having far too good a time watching Harry squirm to rescue him. Robert seemed much more comfortable upon his home grounds than when traveling, and I began to warm up to him. Previously he had appeared as nothing more than a very cold fish.

Harry looked most dejected, kneeling besides AnneMarie, holding her hands. Mrs. Kendrickson took the bottle of smelling salts from the maid who brought them, then uncorked the bottle beneath AnneMarie’s nose. AnneMarie awoke with a start, then stared around at the people looking down at her. She gaped at us, then focused on Harry. “Harry...?”

It took Harry an excruciating time to explain his actions and receive AnneMarie’s forgiveness. It was finally accomplished when James explained how his situation, as an equally wealthy man, had caused him to have to fend off innumerable greedy debutantes. The comments of the others were less helpful to Harry. His mother kept repeating, “Harry, you idiot!” whilst Robert simply laughed uproariously.

By the time AnneMarie had settled herself and forgiven Harry, it was supper time, so Mrs. Kendrickson led the way into the smallest of the three dining rooms, a room larger than either of those in James’ home in Saratoga! However, despite the grandeur of the mansion, our hostess seemed a most down-to-earth individual. I remember how AnneMarie commented on the opulence of the home, and how it must feel like one was living in a museum. Harry’s mother laughed and agreed, but said, “Actually, it’s Harry and Robert’s house, not mine. I’m simply a guest.”

Harry started at this, then smiled broadly. “That’s true, isn’t it!” He turned towards AnneMarie and said in a stage whisper, “Once we’re married, we’ll heave her out, what?”

At this Mrs. Kendrickson snorted in derision and Robert laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you, AnneMarie, but it can’t be done. While it is technically true that the title to the estate is in Harry’s and my hands, it is entailed. Father wrote the will so that Mother can stay here as long as she wants, and Harry and I have to support her in a comfortable style.”

“A very comfortable style!” added Harry.

Our hostess smiled serenely. “Make that a very, very comfortable style!”

We all laughed at this, then Robert explained their father’s arrangements to his step-sister-in-law-to-be. Harry’s and his father had wanted the companies to be passed down, not to his wife, but to his sons, who were already running most of the firm. Yet he made this particular type of arrangement so that his wife, whom he dearly loved, would be taken care of fully. As they explained it, the arrangement made considerable sense, and I remarked upon this to James.

“Well, yes, dear, but we don’t even have children yet.”

“Oh, James, you do want children?” I exclaimed.

He gave me an odd look, and said, “Well, of course, Caroline. Do you?”

“Scads! We’ll have an even dozen, half boys and half girls! The boys will be just like you and the girls will look like me!” I replied, much to everyone’s laughter.

James shook his head. “Come now, I’m an old man! I’ll never live that long. Cut it in half. Make it all boys; I am not at all sure I want to handle another six of you!”

At this we all laughed, and the dinner broke up shortly thereafter. It being near bedtime, Mrs. Kendrickson led us to the second floor and into a wing of the estate for guests. AnneMarie and I had adjoining suites, each of which was larger than James’ and my combined suite back home. Harry’s rooms were upon the third floor, and James was in another wing entirely. While it was unstated, it seemed obvious that Mrs. Kendrickson suspected that neither AnneMarie nor I were chaste with our affections and wished us to remain separate from our loves whilst under her roof. Once we were alone, we giggled that it would be good for the fellows.