Chapter 1: Young Trevor

My name is Trevor Moulton Stainsbury. I was born in 1919 in Washington, D.C., to Canadian parents. My father, Cyril, was attached to the Canadian embassy, and I spent the first four years of my life in the U.S. capital. Upon my return to Ottawa with my parents, I was almost immediately bundled off to boarding school. There I spent most of my childhood and youth as one of the privileged classes, removed from my family with the exception of a few weeks in summer and the Christmas holiday.

True, I was taught a number of useful skills in my youth. I learned horsemanship and rode in a number of junior gymkhanas. I learned to handle boats, both power and sail. In school, I learned I had an affinity for languages, as well as some skill at writing. What I did not learn was how to interact socially with females. That particular skill was left for others to provide.

It was for this reason that I was quite naïve by the time I reached my late teens, and it was then clear I required some social catching-up. My Uncle Malcolm spotted this deficiency in my makeup, and set about assisting me. He himself was quite a Lothario, and had, I assumed, a skilled way with many a woman. My father's brother was unmarried and free to practice his skills as he saw fit. It was his generous intent to school me in the ways of women, and I will be forever grateful to him.

"Women are a wondrous creature, Trevor," my uncle said one day. "They are a source of amusement and delight, consternation and annoyance, warmth and comfort. They should be cultivated as the finest orchids, plucked at their most prime. You are young, and to learn the ways to please and entertain women is a valuable asset for your future.

"You need not confine yourself to just one at your age, for variety is indeed the spice of life. But remember this, one day you will meet that one particular woman who will alter your life irrevocably. She will give you her heart, and you will give her yours. When that happens, you will forsake your wandering ways and dedicate yourself to her.

"You can't know when that will happen, but when it does, you will recognize it. You will have learned to give pleasure and fulfill your role as her life partner. Do not miss the opportunity when it presents itself. They seldom come more than once in a lifetime."

I thought this a strange lecture from a man I presumed had dedicated his life to the pursuit of women without any hint that he would make any of them permanent in his life.

I should explain my relationship with my parents. I love them, of course, but my father is seldom home, his duties in Ottawa demanding he be there, or in some foreign capital or other. He has an apartment near his office and spends most of his weeknights there.

My mother, Amelia, has adapted to her marriage in her own unique way. It wasn't until I was sixteen that I realized my uncle and mother were having an affair right in our own home. My uncle lived with us at the behest of his brother. Someone to watch over wife and son. He did much more than watch. They would keep up the appearances of distance during the day, but after retiring, I would hear one or the other of them creeping along the hallway to the other's room. By morning, they would be back in their respective beds. This arrangement went on as long as I was in the home, and presumably afterwards.

Neither my uncle nor I were amazing physical specimens. We were modest in height, about five-foot ten-inches, and while reasonably fit and lean of structure, we were not athletes. That is to say, not athletes in the conventional sense. With the able coaching of my elder, I must say I demonstrated a significant fitness in the boudoir, thereby gaining the admiration and confidence of many of my female companions. I do not wish to boast, but I can recall no partner in these communions who found fault with my performance, and my uncle looked upon that as the only meaningful benchmark.

Uncle Malcolm also taught me that the most important value to hold concerning women was discretion. One simply did not indulge in braggadocio among our peers. For gentlemen such as us, it was simply not done. To him, it was the selection, the hunt, the seduction, and finally the conquest that made the game so enticing. He preached patience, and while that was not a virtue that could be ascribed to me in my youth, I was amply rewarded for learning that valuable lesson.

My father was blissfully ignorant of my uncle's ministrations. Uncle Malcolm was my mentor, and I was his attentive student, wanting to learn everything there was to learn from this scholar of sensuality. My father would have been shocked no doubt, although he knew of his brother's reputation. He adopted a laissez-faire attitude toward him, as long as uncle didn't blot his copybook in his presence. I don't think he noticed the amount of time we spent together in conversation. I'm sure neither he nor my mother knew anything of Uncle Malcolm's escorting me to a certain house in a nearby village where my education could be enhanced.

I was, like my uncle, capable in more than one language, adding French, German, and Italian with a smattering of Spanish and Portuguese. I would come to be very grateful for the farsightedness of my headmaster when he correctly interpreted my skills and directed me toward languages and literature as my major subjects. It would stand me in good stead in my travels and future endeavours. When I gained my senior matriculation, it was with honours in English, German, French, and Italian. I had a very close second in political science.

My first attempted conquest, shortly before my eighteenth birthday, was a winsome lass living some three or four miles further up the townline road from our home. I noticed her a number of times riding her horse along the verge of the road, or walking in the village just a couple of miles south of our estate. She was unaccompanied, and I judged her age to be near mine. It was clear to me that my seduction of her might be beyond my capability at that time. However, with my uncle's coaching, and my typical youthful confidence, I set my cap on her.

She was lovely and I could not help but marvel at her already mature body. Her breasts were obviously bountiful as they bounced joyously under her tunic when she rode. Her dark brown hair, clinched tightly at her nape, glistened in the sunlight as it trailed down her back. As I watched her pass by, I could also note the roundness and fulsomeness of her buttocks as they happily bounded from the saddle. She would smile as she passed, and I would wave in polite acknowledgement. I hoped she would remember me when we met again.

I knew I must have a strategy to achieve my goal, and it was here that I sought my uncle's counsel. He was a man who believed in simplicity. He therefore suggested I hail the young lady, and enquire of her name and home, and introduce myself. It wouldn't harm, he advised, if I made my attraction known to her.

I was on summer hiatus, and with little time for protracted courting, I required events to progress quickly. I followed Uncle Malcolm's advice and the next morning I waited patiently. At last, I saw her astride her magnificent chestnut mare, cantering toward me. I walked out onto the roadway, waving as if flagging down a carriage. She saw my signal and reined her horse to a halt.

"Good morning, sir?" she said with a look of curiosity. "Can I be of assistance?"

"Yes indeed," I said cheerily. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Trevor Stainsbury. I have seen you several times, and I am inquiring of your name."

"I see. I am unaccustomed to being hailed by strangers just to know my name," she said seriously.

"Well ... is it my good fortune to be the only curious person you have encountered this summer?" I was desperate to maintain a light-hearted tone to our conversation.

The look on her face was one of caution and suspicion, but my cheerful nature and honest appearance seemed to win the day.

"My name is Jocelyn Trent-Hughes," she offered at last.

"Mine, as I said, is Trevor. I am delighted to make your acquaintance Miss Trent-Hughes. Are you here for the summer?"

"Yes, I'm here on holiday from school. I'm staying at the Kings Road Estate with my aunt and uncle."

"I too am on holiday from school. Our family home in just over the hill behind me – Bellville House. I have just matriculated from Upper Canada College, and I will be transferring to Queens next semester. Where do you attend?"

"I will be attending Bryn Mawr, near Philadelphia. I begin classes in September." She was smiling now and looked to be considering dismounting. I had a light grip on the reins near the bit and held her horse steady, although it was well trained and showed no signs of shying away.

"You have a beautiful mare, a lovely coloured coat," I complimented. "What is her name?"

"Honoria Princess Wentworth Collabra," she answered with a grin. "We call her Wenty. She's a wonderful horse, easy to ride. Do you ride, Mr. Stainsbury?"

"Yes, I do. I would love to ride with you if given the opportunity." I was hoping she would be agreeable.

"That would be very nice. Can we meet here tomorrow at this time?"

"Certainly! I will look forward to it with great anticipation." And well I would, too!

"Well, I must be off. I'll see you tomorrow then ... Trevor." She smiled as she used my familiar name.

"I'll meet you here ... Jocelyn."

My mood was buoyant as you might imagine. I watched her ride off down the road, her lovely, round rump fairly dancing in the saddle. I wondered idly if she had any idea the effect she had on a healthy male at the sight of her. My tightened britches certainly knew that effect. I returned to my home to report my activities to Uncle Malcolm. I wanted to see if he agreed that today I had made significant strides in my ambitions toward the lovely Miss Trent-Hughes.

"Self-confidence is the first requisite to great undertakings," my uncle said as he considered my next move. "Samuel Johnson said that many years ago, and it's as true for you today as it was then in the eighteenth century. He may not have thought of it in the same context as your ambitions with Miss Trent-Hughes, but you certainly desire this young lady to consider you as a confident young man who knows what he wants and sets out to obtain it. The art of seduction convinces your intended that it's all her idea and you are just a willing passenger. Not easily done and I don't recommend that strategy just yet, Trevor."

"Well then, Uncle, what do you suggest?"

"You are going riding with her tomorrow and that should give you the opening to determine if there will be other opportunities in the near future. You might suggest a night at the theatre, for example. Since you have obtained a driver's permit, it would allow you to use your father's or my automobile for an evening out. Keep those things in the back of your mind while you determine the likelihood of a further rendezvous. The auto has the added advantage of privacy as well as mobility. My LaSalle has more than adequate room in the rear passenger compartment for two."

"Thank you, Uncle. You have been very helpful, and now it's up to me."

"Quite. We can discuss your progress tomorrow after you've had your ride with the young lady. Good luck!"

I was sure to be early as I waited at the side of the road for Jocelyn to arrive that morning. I was sitting astride father's horse "Conker," peering north up the road for my first sight of her. I was anxious and somewhat nervous, but excited at the prospect of spending some time with the lovely young lady. My thoughts were of nothing but her in the past day and night, and I was cautioning myself not to make a fool of myself and spoil this opportunity. With that in mind, I still nearly jumped out of the saddle when I saw a horse and rider approaching, and it took all my willpower to calm myself as I recognized them.

"Good morning, Jocelyn! A beautiful morning for a ride," I exclaimed a little too exuberantly.

"Good morning, Trevor," she smiled demurely. "Have you been waiting long?"

"No, not at all," I lied. "Well, perhaps a few minutes. I certainly didn't want to be late."

She flashed that wonderful smile and I was captured, then and there. "Shall we go?" Without waiting for my reply, she trotted onward down the road in her usual direction. Conker fell into step beside Wenty, and we rode along the roadside together.

I could see that I was accompanying a very confident young lady and my uncle's words on the subject the previous day came back to me. Perhaps she was the self-assured suitor and I was the prey. I hadn't thought of that, but it seemed possible, given her station. I would remain patient and cautious, looking for any sign that I could interpret in my favour. In the meantime, I hadn't said a word since we had exchanged greetings and I was madly struggling to find a topic of conversation besides the weather.

"Are you looking forward to Bryn Mawr?" I finally asked.

"I suppose so. It's very exclusive and I will get a very fine education, but... ," her voice trailed off.

"But what?"

"I don't know anyone there and I'm afraid I'll be lonely," she confessed.

"If it were up to you ... where would you choose?"

"I'd be happy at Queens, I think."

"I'd be happy if you were at Queens too," I grinned. I was taking a chance, but not a reckless one.

Jocelyn turned toward me and smiled. I had struck a chord, obviously. We rode on a bit longer in silence until she finally spoke again.

"What do you like to do with your days in the summer?" she asked.

"Well, I enjoy swimming on hot days, and I enjoy the theatre in the evening," I fibbed.

"Oh ... I love the theatre. I like swimming too."

"Well then, it looks like we have much in common. If you would care to, I would be delighted to escort you to the theatre next Saturday."

"That would be very nice. I'd like that very much."

This was proving easier than I had expected, and I was becoming quite confident in her presence. "Where do you swim?"

"We have a lodge on Mississippi Lake. Do you know it?"

"Yes, of course, it's not far from here," I confirmed.

"I'd invite you there, but I have no way to get there."

"Well ... if it's isn't too bold of me ... I have a car ... or at least access to one."

"Oh ... that would be wonderful. When can you get away?" She appeared genuinely enthusiastic.

"When would you like to go?"

"Why don't we go this afternoon? We can have a picnic too. I can look after that." She was obviously excited by the idea and I was surprised and pleased at how well our first outing had turned out.

"What if I pick you up at your home about one this afternoon?" I asked, full now with the confidence of youth.

"Wonderful ... I'm really looking forward to it," she smiled brightly.

We resumed our ride in silence, and I quietly congratulated myself on my new-found skills. Just what those skills were was not yet established.

With Uncle Malcolm's permission, I borrowed his car and rolled up to the large estate of the Trent-Hughes family. I had carefully packed swimming trunks, several large towels, a blanket, and a half bottle of sparkling white wine. My Uncle had suggested I consider it if the opportunity arose.

Jocelyn came bounding out of the stately home, down the stone steps and fairly leaped into the front seat of the LaSalle as I held the door open. She had been carrying a wicker picnic basket and a hand bag. She carefully placed the basket on the seat between us and plunked the bag on her lap. I walked around the front of the big auto and slipped into the driver's seat. I turned to her and smiled.