Chapter 29

Edited by Old Rotorhead

Hermione’s idea of the ideal way to dress for her wedding night consisted of a dab of her favourite perfume in one or two interesting places, and ... nothing else. It was unfortunate that although her room and Jake’s were next to each other, unlike at Wraxall Old Hall there was no communication between them, much less a bathroom. Hermione was determined that that would be altered quite soon. So the only way to get from one room to the other was to use the corridor. Which was used by the rest of the household. Consequently, for the sake of propriety, she had she had to wear an all enveloping gown. In just ten paces it ended up on the floor of Jake’s bedroom.

Jake was lying on his bed in a similar state of dress, stiff and ready for her. Hermione was as ready as she could ever be, she had been waiting long enough. She threw one leg over him and lowered herself with a sigh of appreciation.

“At long last,” she said. “Oh, that feels just as good as I thought it would. Do you think we shall make a baby tonight?”

“We can only do our best,” said Jake, with a big grin.

It might be supposed that this was the beginning of a night of utter debauchery, but for several reasons it wasn’t. Jake and Hermione had spent a good deal of time together, enough to feel quite relaxed together, so that they didn’t feel they had to pack everything into one session. It had also been a long tiring day, and however young and fit you are it does catch up with you. Also there was a small elephant in the room that needed to be discussed. At the end of their first coupling Hermione lay sprawled across Jake whilst they recovered their breath.

“A wedding surprise today,” said Hermione.

“Sarah?”

“Yes.”

“That would have been a surprise on any day. I don’t suppose, if your mother hadn’t been there, you’d have known. But knowing the story, I can quite see what Tom meant, she does look like an older version of you, I know she is a little care worn, not surprising really, but still very attractive.”

“What?” Hermione levered herself upright. “Do you fancy my mother?”

“Hardly, my love,” Jake laughed. “But it’s nice to know that you will still be beautiful when you get older.”

“Silver tongued swine!” said Hermione, and proceeded to see if she could revive Jake for another round.

Fitz had been seeing Bea every time he was in Bristol. Sometimes it was just for tea, or trip to the theatre, but their favourite, during good weather, was riding out over the downs. Bea would be riding Star, and Fitz borrowed her father’s own hunter, a horse that he rarely had time to exercise himself. In her black habit and top hat Bea cut a figure that was envied by all the ladies who saw her, although that was expressed more in graduated terms of ‘hussey’, and the gentlemen, of course, envied Fitz. Their favourite destination was a small spinney several miles distant from the Kingswood home. There they would dismount and spend time together talking. The first occasion that Fitz stole a kiss it was a very chaste affair, and after the same on the next couple of rides Bea decided that she wanted more.

The next time they were at the spinney, as they reached the point in their stop at which Fitz would ‘steal’ a kiss, she put her arms around his neck and pulled his head down and really kissed him. When they parted several minutes later, and somewhat out of breath, Fitz looked at her, passion inflamed, but slightly shocked.

“Where ever did you learn to kiss like that?” he asked.

Bea blushed.

“It ... it just comes naturally,” she claimed. “Doesn’t it?”

Fitz looked her in the eye, and she looked down.

“When I came back from Ireland I was very confused,” Bea told him. “Many things had happened that I didn’t understand. All about men and women, I mean. What that priest did, and what I heard.”

She stopped for a moment.

“I asked Hermione if she could help, but she didn’t know much more than me. So I asked Victoria.”

“And she told you all about ... what?”

Bea was silent, but Fitz kept hold of her.

“She told me all about... “ she began again, “what happens between men and women,” Bea continued in whisper.

“That doesn’t account for the kiss,” said Fitz.

“She said sometimes women...”

Again she paused.

“Women what?”

“Kiss each other. So I sort of ... blackmailed her into showing me.”

Bea still stood with downcast eyes.

“And that was all?”

Bea looked up at Fitz from beneath the brim of her hat.

“Really, Captain! What else could there possibly be?” There was just the hint of a smile when she said this. Then she whirled away from his grasp, and was mounted before he had digested the last question. She looked down at him.

“I think papa would like to see you,” She laughed and started back.

Fitz was really not too sure what he was going to make of this.

When they arrived back at the house a groom took charge of the horses and Bea excused herself to go and change. Fitz found Haskins and enquired as to the whereabouts of Lord Kingswood.

“He is in the library with Lady Kingswood,” Haskins told him. “Should I enquire as to whether he will see you, Captain?”

“Yes please, Haskins. If you would.”

Moments later Haskins ushered Fitz into the library.

“Fitz!” Lord Kingswood greeted him. “Did you have a good ride?”

“Thank you, yes, my lord. I understood from Lady Beatrice that you wished to see me.”

Fitz glanced at Victoria who was obviously doing her best not to laugh.

“I’ll leave you gentlemen to it,” she said. “We’ll have tea in the garden when you are finished.”

“I don’t think I...” Lord Kingswood began, the thoughtful look on his face suddenly changing to realisation. “Ah! I see. My daughter is trying to manipulate us.”

Fitz was frozen in place for a moment until he caught up with Lord Kingswood, who was now smiling at him.

“Yes,” he said. “I see what you mean. I had intended to do this, but not ... Sir, Lord Kingswood, I should like to request the hand of your daughter in marriage.”

“Well done, Fitz. I thought you’d never get there. Of course my boy, I shall be delighted to have you as my son in law. Shall we go and join the ladies?”

“Of course, Sir, but do you not want to...”

“Captain Fitzherbert! You are aware of my position within government?”

“Yes, of course ... oh, yes, I see. I take it then that I passed muster?”

Lord Kingswood laughed, and led the way into the garden where Victoria and Bea were sitting. Having taken their their seats Victoria poured tea for them. Bea was clearly having difficulty sitting still.

“Well?” she addressed Fitz.

“Well what?” Fitz asked with a look of puzzlement on his face.

“Ooh! Papa, did he ask you?”

Lord Kingwood laughed. “He did,” he said.

“And?”

“I agreed. After all it’s the best offer I’ve had,” her father replied.

Bea leapt to her feet and threw her arms around Fitz, hugging him tightly.

“Come to think of it,” Lord Kingswood said quietly to Victoria, with a grin. “It’s the only offer I’ve had.”

Victoria smiled and gave him a mock hit on his arm.

“I heard that, Papa,” said Bea, without letting go of Fitz.

With all that had happened in the previous twenty four hours it was nearly midday when Hermione knocked on the door of of a very neat and well maintained three storey town house not too far from the docks. The door was answered by Tom.

“Lady Hermione, come in,” he greeted her with a grin. “Sarah is waiting for you.”

Tom showed her into the front room where Sarah was standing, obviously somewhat agitated. Hermione stepped forward and hugged her. Then she stepped back.

“First, you must both call me Hermione,” she said.

“Oh, really, I couldn’t...”

“You are my mother, Sarah, and Tom is my step father. So no more lady. Now, let’s sit and you can tell me all about yourself.”

“I’ll ask Emiline to bring you coffee, and then I’ll get down to the ship,” said Tom.

He kissed his wife, and looked rather embarrassedly towards Hermione, not sure what to say. She went to him and kissed his cheek. Tom had a broad grin on his face as he left to see Emiline who Hermione assumed was the maid ... but then why had Tom answered the door? They heard the front door close as he went out.

“I have been so worried about today,” Sarah sniffed. “What ever did Captain Jake say. Oh, that’s what we always call him...”

Hermione sat next to her and put her arm around her.

“His main comment was that looking at you he was glad I’d still be beautiful when I was older,” Hermione told her.

“Oh! There’s a thing. Fancy that. He is a wonderful man,” Sarah said with a blush. “You are so lucky!”

Emiline came in with a tray with cups and a coffee pot on it. Hermione had assumed that she was the maid, but this was clearly not the case. She put the tray down, gave a slight curtsy to Hermione and said she’d leave them to their talk.

“Emiline is our...” Sarah blushed deeply, “friend.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but Sarah wasn’t looking at her.

“Tell me about yourself,” said Hermione.

“Not much to tell, really. I was born here in Bristol, and it’s where I returned to when Timothy dropped me.”

“How did you start at Wraxall?”

“I was employed as maid to a couple. I went with them when they moved to London. I worked for them for several years, and then the husband lost all their money. I was unemployed, so I went to an agency, and they sent me to work for the Duchess.”

“Where you met Timothy.”

“Yes. He was only seventeen or eighteen, and handsome. I should have known better, but how many girls in my position do?”

“Handsome you say? I remember him as a disgusting fat pig of a man,” said Hermione.

“You say that as though he was dead” Sarah questioned.

“Yes. He was attempting to rape me, so I shot him.”

Sarah looked at her in shock. “Oh my! Do you always carry a gun?”

Hermione nodded. “Mostly,” she said.

Then Sarah went on, “When I missed my monthly I went to him. I don’t know what I expected, but he said we could go and live in London. Like a fool I believed all his flannel and went with him. I might have been better to ask Brightman for help.”

“What happened in London?

“He started selling me,” said Sarah with a sniff. “There are many men who find pregnant women attractive.”

“I certainly hope Jake does,” said Hermione. “But selling you, that’s awful.”

“It was, but you get used to it,” Sarah told her. “Whether you like it or not. And I didn’t.”

“So what happened to the baby ... well that’s me, isn’t it?” asked Hermione.

“You were such a beautiful baby. Everyone who saw you said so. And you’ve grown into a beautiful young lady.”

Sarah had another sniffle, and then went on. “ I was with one of his ‘friends’ one day, and when I returned Timothy had left. He took the baby, you, with him. I thought he was selling you to someone. I had no idea that he was taking you to Wraxall. No idea at all. I was distraught, but what could I do?”

“You didn’t go back to Wraxall?”

“And what would have happened if I did? Even if I’d got to see him he would just have laughed at me. No, I decided I’d come back to Bristol and find employment. I never saw him again.”

“Employment? You got a job?”

“All I could do was go to one of the houses, it was the easiest way, and I had no fight in me at the time.”

“Houses? What do you mean?”

“Hermione, there are places men go to when they want the company of a woman, you know for...”

“Oh!” said Hermione. “I ... I really had no idea such places existed. I don’t think Jake would go to such a place.”

“So sophisticated, so worldly, and yet so naïve,” Sarah sighed. “But I think you are right. You are a very lucky girl! Anyway, after some years I was too old for the clientele, and I was thrown out. Fortunately I had saved my money, so I was not too badly off. I rented a room and carried on. Then I met Tom and Jerry. Tom asked me to marry him, and, well ... Tom and Jerry come together ... but you must know that. Together we were able to buy this house. And then Emiline joined us.”

“So she is more than just a friend?”

“That,” said Sarah defensively, “depends on what you mean by friend. Now, I want to know more about you. Tom has told me a lot of the exciting stuff. I’ve no idea what to say about that, but I want to know about you as a woman. As a daughter.”

It was another hour before Hermione left, Emiline had joined them, and she had got to know her as well. Hermione promised to come and see them as soon as she returned from honeymoon.

They had had to remain for the extra day after the wedding that had allowed Hermione to meet her mother, because Jake had to sign papers with respect to the new ship. Now, with trunks packed and tickets booked they were off. No one actually said anything, but everybody hoped that this time it would be a leisurely holiday seeing the sights along their route, rather than the more exciting times the couple had enjoyed previously.

Hermione had decided she wanted a maid cumcompanion, and so Susan, who had first served her on her trip to Newton Abbot, would travel with them. She had taken to Susan, who was an extremely sensible girl, as one would expect of course, because all Susans are. She always dressed in sensible, self effacing black, as again, would be expected, but somehow that seemed to enhance her lithe and lissome figure. Top this with a pale elfin face surrounded by dark, almost black hair and you have as unlikely a companion for a lady to take on her honeymoon as you could imagine. But both her efficiency, and her loyalty, were, however, beyond reproach.

What seemed to Jake to be an enormous quantity of trunks, bags and hat boxes was loaded onto the London train. They had a private compartment to London, where they stayed overnight, and then another to Dover. From there they crossed to Calais, only a few hour’s journey. The weather was fine although the wind was best described as bracing. They had engaged a private car to take them to Paris. The hotel, where they would stay for several days was magnificent, and the standard of the suite was beyond anything they had previously encountered. Indeed London Hotels were rather second class by comparison, although as Jake remarked, the price reflected that.

Along the way they became better acquainted with Susan. As well as looking after Hermione, Susan had proved to be able to sort out any of the minor problems that invariably occur when travelling. She told them her father had been a soldier, who had brought her up with the occasional help of his sister. Since he had little knowledge of girls he treated her much as he would a son, passing on many of the skills a young man would require. It was fortunate that her aunt had been able to teach her the skills a young woman would require. Both of them had passed away a year or so previously, although Susan did not say how.

The following morning Jake and Hermione started on an exploration of Paris. They left Susan to deal with domestic chores and then to explore by herself. The first thing that Hermione wanted was to visit the ‘House of Pamplemousse’, to see the Paris fashions that their own were based upon. As soon as they entered the salon Madame Rose recognised Jake and rushed over to greet him, showering him in far more kisses than Hermione thought was suitable for a mere business acquaintance.

“Jake,” she exclaimed, holding him by the arms. “But it is so good to see you. And who is the beautiful lady?”

“Rose, this is my wife, Hermione,” Jake told her.

She immediately seized hold of Hermione and showered her with kisses too.

“Enchanté, my dear. You are so lucky. Jake is a wonderful man. But you will have to hold on to him very tightly, there are many ladies here in Paris who would be delighted to make his acquaintance!”

Hermione was not too sure what to make of this, but decided that Jake would tell her later. She would make sure of that!

Madame de Pamplemousse showed them around and then had her models show Hermione some of the latest creations. There was one red dress that Hermione decided she could not live without, and measurements were taken so that alterations could be made for her. She took them to lunch and eventually in late afternoon they made their way back to the hotel.

As they walked into the hotel foyer, a commissionaire resplendent in a braided uniform intercepted them, and directed them to the manager’s office.

“Sir Jacob, Lady ‘Ermione, I have the most unfortunate news,” the manager told them. “It is your companion, Mademoiselle, Susan. She has been involved in an altercation, a misunderstanding, I am sure, but I have had a message from the prefecture of police where she has been detained.”

Fitz, now betrothed to Bea, knew that the next step was to introduce her to his family. Accordingly he wrote to his father suggesting a weekend when he could get away. His father had replied that he and Fitz’s mother would be delighted to welcome them. The estate was in Devonshire so there was little difficulty in taking a train from Bristol to the nearest town, Great Grimpen, and then a trap to the the village of Hampton Parva, where Hampton Parva Manor was situated. Fitz and Bea were accompanied by Amanda, Bea’s maid.

They were welcomed by Fitz’s father and mother, and his two sisters. Sir George was a large handsome man of about sixty, with sandy hair, now beginning to spread around the middle. He dressed in country tweeds. Lady Mary was a slim, elegant woman a year or two younger, who had been quite a beauty when she was younger. The two sisters were Belinda who was eighteen and Penelope who was sixteen. Both were attractive girls but had not as yet found husbands. Belinda, a tall slender girl, was particularly fussy, giving her parents no end of worry, and preventing Penelope, best described as voluptuous, who certainly didn’t share her sister’s fastidious regard for husband material, from marrying. Fitz’s elder brother James and his wife Abigail would join them for dinner later. James would take over the family estate when his father died. Fitz didn’t think that was likely to be soon, but one never knew what the fates had in store. Fitz as the younger son had had to find a profession to support him. To be honest he had a small private income from legacies, but it was insufficient to enable him to lead a life of leisure, not that inaction appealed to him. The army didn’t either, and he certainly didn’t fancy the church, and that was why he had ended up in the navy.

Belinda and Penelope tried to monopolise Bea, much to her amusement, but were restrained by their mother. Once they had settled in and changed Fitz, now of course known by his given name of Cedric, and Bea went to the drawing room to take tea. There was a general conversation before Sir George took Fitz away to show him some of the improvements that had been made in his absence, which gave the ladies an opportunity to discuss fashion and find out what was going on in the fleshpots of Bristol, a place they rarely got to visit. Bea of course knew that sooner or later Lady Mary was going to want to question her in some depth about her life, and her feelings about Fitz, um ... Cedric. Bea was having difficulties making sure that she remembered to call him by his given name. After the third or fourth error Lady Mary put her hand on Bea’s arm.

“My dear,” she said. “I believe everyone he knows calls him Fitz. I don’t think we will mind if you do.”

The girls were giggling at this and their mother turned to them and instructed them to practise their music. She told Bea to follow her and led the way to her private sitting room.

“Now,” she said when they were seated, “tell me about yourself.”

Bea launched into a fairly well rehearsed account of her self and her family. Lady Mary had the knack, that so many older ladies have, of being able to draw out all the information that someone has without it appearing to be an interrogation.

“And Ireland,” asked Lady Mary. “I believe you spent some time there?”

Bea hesitated. Then she made a decision, one that she knew she would have to make, and that was to give the whole story, nothing left out. If Fitz’s mother didn’t like it, well ... she poured out the tale.

“And,” she finished, “despite what everybody believes, no one touched me. The men who left me with the priest told him they would ... well, do something to him if he touched me.”

“Do something?” Lady Mary sounded a little puzzled.

“Geld him,” Bea really wasn’t worried by this time, Lady Mary seemed to understand.

“Oh!” Lady Mary allowed a slight smile, “A priest you say? But they’re...”

“Celibate? Not this one, he was truly evil. He stopped at nothing with the villagers.”

“Oh you poor thing,” said Lady Mary. “And so very brave too. So Sir Jacob rescued you, and then you met my son.”

“I wasn’t even conscious when I was transferred to “Moonfleet”. I only saw him when I was brought back to Bristol, but I was still very ill. When I was better I saw him about. He came and went with his ship. He had a lady ... I don’t know how to put this for you, but Mary was ... she was one of my father’s agents ... Oh!” Bea paused. “I should say father is high up in the Home Office, I mean, there is a Home Secretary, but my father ... I was kidnapped to get to him. He had people looking for me. Mary was one of them. She and Fitz were ... very close. Then she was murdered. Fitz killed the man who did it.”

Lady Mary nodded. There was clearly much, much more behind this, but that would have to wait.

“I went to her grave with Fitz to pay my respects, and got to know him and, well, I decided that whilst I’ll never replace Mary, I would make a good wife for him.”

“Thank you for telling me that, my dear. We’ll talk more.” Lady Mary smiled. “But now, I think we just have time to dress for dinner.”

The family was joined for dinner on the first evening by his brother James and Abigail, James’s wife. If Sir George was exactly what you would expect of a country squire, James was exactly what you would expect of a younger version, although not in tweeds this evening. It struck Bea that he was quite unlike the dark haired and boyishly handsome Fitz ... um, Cedric, but brothers, and indeed sisters, so often are.

The family met for a glass of sherry before eating. Fitz, who was still a half pay - reserve - officer, was in his uniform, and Bea was wearing a new dress from Victoria’s. She was introduced to James and Abigail. Abigail was, not unnaturally, very taken with Bea’s dress.

“It’s from Victoria’s,” Bea told her.

“Do you know Victoria?” asked Abigail somewhat in awe.

Bea laughed. “She’s my step mother, and my best friend,” she said. “and I take photographs for her collections.”

“Oh!” said Belinda, “I thought all step mothers were wicked. They are in stories.”

There was general laughter.

“I believe some are,” said her mother, “but then some step children can be very difficult.” she laughed, “daughters, too.”

“Oh! Mama,” said Belinda, whilst Penelope giggled.

“Is it true you were kidnapped?” asked Penelope.

“Penelope!” exclaimed her mother.

“Well, it’s terribly romantic,” said Belinda. “Carried off by pirates.”

“Girls! Be quiet this instant,” said her mother. “Beatrice is our guest. You will upset her.”

“But Mama...”

“Don’t, but Mama me, young lady.”

“It’s alright,” said Bea. “It doesn’t upset me. But I must say to you, Belinda that is wasn’t in the least bit romantic. It was terrifying, unpleasant and in main very uncomfortable. It might be romantic in books, but in real life you really wouldn’t like it.”

“Oh, but you were rescued by a handsome man,” said Penelope.

“That’s true,”Bea laughed, “Although it wasn’t Cedric!”

“Cedric’s not handsome,” the girls said in unison. “He’s our brother.”

“Now,” said Sir George, “we’ll go and eat. And we’ll talk about something much more pleasant.”

Dinner was superb with fresh trout, beef from the estate and several interesting desserts. Sir George and Lady Mary had an excellent cook. Talk during the meal was light with a good deal of laughter. After the ladies withdrew the men settled down with a decanter of port.

Talk settled down to the subject of what they had all been up to since they had last met, and then, inevitably to Bea. Jake told them about her and explained Jake’s involvment. In the course of this he mentioned Hermione and how delighted Jake had been with her success in buying the herd of White Parks. James looked at his father.

“We heard about that. There was some sort of funny business. The lady got them for rather less than they were worth,” said James.

“I don’t know the details, but I understand the auctioneer was doing something underhand,” said Fitz.

“I’d like to meet up with Sir Jacob,” said Sir George. “We may be able to do some business.”

With that they decided to join the ladies.

Susan had done all the things that needed to be done by mid morning, and, as she had promised herself, she set out to explore Paris. At about half past twelve she found herself outside a smart café, and decided that since it was some time since breakfast a meal was in order. She entered and walked past several occupied tables until she stopped, confronted by a burly waiter who enquired if she would like a table. As he did so she felt a hand on her behind.

Now, as every one should know, Frenchmen, for some unaccountable reason, feel that accosting a lady in such a manner is perfectly acceptable. Indeed, they feel that the lady should regard it as a compliment. Susan did not. A probably less known fact is, that if someone were to press a gun into your back, if you spin around with your arm swinging hard across your back, your wrist will knock the gun away, and the gun will discharge harmlessly past you. Harmless unless some luckless person is standing in the way. As her father had taught her, Susan spun around, caught the wrist to which the offending hand was attached, twisted, and forced it up the man’s back. Unfortunately she rather over did it, and his fingers ended up reaching rather further up his back than nature had intended. This caused him to jackknife forwards until his face ended up in the bowl of consommé that the waiter had just placed in front of him, splashing a good deal of it over the table and himself. At this point he completed the intake of breath which he had started in order to give vent to a bellow of pain. He lifted his head as he proceeded to exhale violently, covering the table, and the front of the lady who was sitting opposite him, with the rest of the consommé together with some less palatable fluids.

The waiter seized Susan around the waist causing her to let go of the man’s wrist. He held her with her feet off the floor.

The man recovered somewhat, and there ensued what can only be described as an execrable display of temper on both sides, with questions on parentage and nationality, and comparisons to farm animals being just part of it. The waiter was patiently holding on to Susan to restrain her from doing further damage, apart from to his shins as she attempted to kick herself free, whilst the man’s partner, who had made some ineffectual dabs at the front of her clothing, seemed to regard the scene with a degree of amusement.

Due to the noise it was unsurprising that a gendarme quickly arrived and took charge. Susan was unceremoniously carted off to the police station. As she left the café the man was shouting after her swearing vengeance. At the police station the desk sergeant obtained the details of a rather more subdued Susan’s name and where she was staying. She was then incarcerated in a cell. Given the name of the hotel the sergeant decided that he would consult with his inspector. That worthy decided that it would be best to inform the hotel. If Susan was, as she claimed, companion to someone who could afford to stay there then it was quite possible that there might be a little ‘something’ in it for the inspector. To facilitate things, you understand.

Susan had been there for several hours when Jake and Hermione arrived. Jake had wanted to go alone, but Hermione told him she was coming and would brook no argument.

Jake announced them to the desk sergeant, and told him that he had come to collect his employee.

“Monsieur, that will not be possible. There are serious charges of assault and affray to be answered,” replied the sergeant. “Le Comte de la Grande Fromage has preferred the charges.”

“Assault, sergeant? The brave Comte is charging a mere slip of a girl with assault?” Jake said.

Hermione had been with Jake on many occasions during negotiations which had been friendly, almost informal whilst a satisfactory agreement had been reached. Even when there was shooting, he had always seemed his charming self, a smile and a joke. That there was steel beneath charming exterior she was sure, she had felt it, but it had never shown before.