Chapter 8

I had to leave my post. I had been missing too long. I was to learn, though, that much more happened after I left.

He stayed, of course. Who would miss him? Well ... I found that out when Stephan returned from his errand with six bottles of sweet wine for Her Ladyship. Luckily, he came to me when he could not locate Jack in the stables. What was I to do? The mistress wasn't due for supper for two more hours, and when she was closeted in her rooms, only I was authorized to disturb her. If I knocked, what would she do? In what I suspected their current state of dress (or undress!) to be, there would be a significant delay in answering the door. I was flummoxed.

I took the wine from the boy and sent him back to the stables, telling him that Jack was also gone on an errand, and would, no doubt, return in time for supper. Then I took the wine to her door and set it down. It was packed in a small crate, and the bottles were in no danger.

I fumed. The changes she had already wrought were bad enough. And if she succeeded in her goal, scandal would burst forth from the estate like a plague of locusts. Then again, was she actually serious about arranging for all the girls to be gotten with child? From the small bits I had witnessed, she seemed to crave all the sperm she could get for herself. That, I understood. There was a very good possibility that Lord Malcolm was, in fact, incapable of siring an heir. Then again, I would have said the same thing about myself, but for what had happened in that passageway. I admit I preened a bit, remembering my ability. I would have thought, at my age, such production would be a fantasy.

She did have a talent for getting a man to do that. No doubts there.

And the estate did require an heir.

It occurred to me that, based on her behavior thus far, there might, in fact, be a string of heirs before five or six years had passed. It had been a long time since there had been a house full of nobility to serve. And, in my younger years, I had helped train many a noble lad. I had helped train Mister Malcolm Farnsworth (as I called him then), and his younger brothers, for that matter. Not that his father would have admitted it, but Malcolm's manners were wholly the result of what I had taught him as a boy. If only he had not fallen into drink so early in his life. Drink ages a man in an awful way. He was ten years my junior, and yet most people thought him a score of years older than I. Of course I had taken care of myself, and my duties had kept me fit.

But there was nothing to be done about that. The physical wreck he was, at this point, could not be unmade.

And the estate did require an heir.

And Jack was a stout and handsome lad.

He wasn't of noble blood, of course, but his child would be half noble. And, to be honest, time had taught me that noble blood doesn't necessarily mean a noble spirit inhabits the same body. And Jack would, no doubt, produce a strong and vibrant son. Farmers all knew that new blood improved a herd. His Lordship knew that new blood meant better stock. It occurred to me that he paid more attention to his horses than he did his wife, from what I had seen.

Suddenly, what was likely happening behind the door I stood in front of didn't seem quite so objectionable. I knew it was completely objectionable ... but it didn't seem so objectionable.

Such was the power of Her Ladyship's perspicacious thinking.

She had corrupted even me!

It was completely surreal when Her Ladyship, properly attired now, and accompanied by her pristine and equally beautiful lady's maids, appeared for supper. I did not sit with them, of course. I stood guard, and watched the actions of the servants like a hawk. That was my position.

In years past, we had employed twenty or more servants. But the previous lady of the manor had been barren, or so it was whispered. And, since His Lordship had begun to pay more attention to brandy than to his responsibilities, the estate had fallen on hard times. True, he was a genius when it came to horses, and they supported us adequately, but the staff had declined to the point that there was but one kitchen maid. Her name was Marie, and I seem to remember mentioning her. I shall hazard repeating myself, on the chance my memory is faulty. She was the stable master's daughter. Charley and Stephan, her brothers, I am sure I have already mentioned. Marie was the eldest, at sixteen or seventeen, I can't remember which. She was a pretty girl, but astonishingly shy, unable to meet anyone's gaze, even that of cook, who supervised most of her duties. She had worked for us for five years, and I had yet to hear anything come from her mouth other than "Yes, Mum" and "Yes, Sir." She had called me "sir" for all of those five years, and no amount of ranting at her to correct her improper form of address to me helped. Perhaps she was addled, and thought me some distant cousin of His Lordship's, who had been given a position out of pity.

I watched as she brought out dinner. Nigel was off with His Lordship on some kind of equine business. As footman he donned livery and served all meals the Lord or Lady attended, but in his absence Marie assumed that duty. She served Her Ladyship first, of course, and then Jenny and Sally, with equal deference. She called them "Mum" too. In fact, she called any woman "Mum." I'd assume she called any man "Sir" except I'd never known her to address any man other than myself and Lord Malcom. As she served, I wondered what she was thinking about. It had only been a few hours since she had seen these three women rubbing their naked bodies up against each other in the bath.

Marie was a tall girl, willowy, and looked precisely the peasant she was. She was thin, almost bony everywhere that skin showed, which meant her neck, wrists and ankles. Her uniform consisted of layers of black and white that covered her body in a thick layer that flattened any curves she had, and filled in any dips. Her hair was kept short, coming only to the bottom of her ears, and cut straight around, as if a bowl was set on top of her head (upside down, of course) and then scissors used to make the hair match the bowl. The only interesting thing about her was that she had the most startlingly blue eyes I'd ever seen. Her hair being coal black, and her skin being pasty white, those eyes shone from her face like beacons. She was as unlike her brothers, Charley and Stephan, as it is possible to be. Nor was Curtis a shy or fading man, and her mother had died when she was just a babe. I know not from whence her crippling shyness arose.

"Thank you," Marie," said the mistress.

Marie ducked her head and said, "Mum."

"Have you seen your brother, Marie?" asked the mistress. "I had him sent to fetch some wine from the village, and have not seen him since."

Marie froze. Then, softly, "No, Mum."

I stepped forward. I had removed the wine from in front of her door, lest it be kicked and some accident ensue.

"Milady?" I said, bowing.

"Yes, Wadsworth."

"When Stephan returned, you were ... ah ... shuttered in your rooms. I took the liberty of securing the wine for your later enjoyment."

"Why thank you, Wadsworth," she said, giving me a brilliant smile. I felt my knees weaken. The hussy had such power! "But you could have interrupted us when it came."

"I think not, Milady," I said. I could feel the blood rushing into my face.

"Wadsworth, you are always welcome in my chambers," she said, staring straight at me.

I quailed. What on earth could that mean?

"We are all family, here, after all."

Well! I knew how familiar she expected certain family members to be towards each other. I had been required to desert my post at the peephole, so I could resume my other duties, but I could only imagine what else had transpired in that room after I left. Jenny had sucked her brother's prong, for pity's sake! What else might she have done? Was it possible that Her Ladyship decided not to covet one helping of Jack's seed? Was it possible she had donated that helping to Jenny to further her aberrant desires? Could it be that poor Jenny was already in the family way?

"Wadsworth? What is wrong, Wadsworth?" Her Ladyship interrupted my train of thought. I stared at Jenny. She looked completely normal, though she, too, was staring at me.

"Apologies, My Lady," I said, bowing. "I was distracted."

"Methinks you need recover some of that wine," said Penelope. "And have some yourself."

"I could not," I answered, immediately.

"You could if I told you to," she said, with steel in her voice. I was always amazed she could be so soft and cuddly one instant, and a yard of bloody sword steel the next. It was astonishing.

"Of course," I said. "I'll get a bottle."

"Bring two," she said, sounding only a bit grumpy now.

It was dessert wine, but she didn't care. She had me decant the first bottle for the four of us, and bade me sit down.

"Milady!" I objected. "'Tis unseemly for the help to see me seated here with you."

"Since my husband is off on some lark involving horses, you shall take his place." She wasn't looking at me when she said that. She was actually looking at the door to the kitchen, through which Marie had escaped further questions. I reflected on her choice of words. I was to take Lord Malcolm's place. I remembered her, naked, spread wide on her bed, eager to be bred. It was her husband's place to breed her.

I sat. Make no mistake. I had no plans to do so. It wasn't proper. But letting her see the results in my trousers, of her flippant remark, was even less proper.

She said, "Taste your wine," and then ignored me, turning to Jenny. "Go and get Cook and Marie, and tell them to bring two more wine glasses with them when they report to me here."

Jenny was up and off without a question. I goggled at my mistress. Surely she couldn't be serious. The only possible reason she could require of two extra flutes would be to share this wine with the help! It was unthinkable!

Jenny returned, shepherding the other two women before her. Marie held two flutes in her hands, which were shaking. Mrs. Tinsdale held nothing, because she was wringing her hands. She had never spoken directly to Her Ladyship before. All instructions to the cook had been communicated to her either through me, or the Housekeeper, Mrs. Hennesey, who was gone for the day.

Penelope looked up, but did not stand. "Mrs. Tinsdale? Is that correct? You are the cook?"

Mrs. Tinsdale looked terrified, and almost knelt, so deeply did her knees bend. "Yes, Mum," she croaked.

"I have been remiss in ignoring you," said Her Ladyship, somewhat tactlessly. "Please forgive me."

Mrs. Tinsdale had no experience with which to compare this situation. The nobility did not crave the forgiveness of the staff. It was clear she had no idea what to say or do. She looked to me, of course, and I mouthed "thank you" to her in an exaggerated manner.

"Thank you, Mum," she whispered.

"The repasts you provide are without measure," said Her Ladyship. "You must never leave us. I should die of starvation if that were the case."

Poor Cook blinked several times. She bit her lip, but then said, "Thank you, Milady."

"'Tis poor reward, but please join us for a glass of wine. You too, Marie. I know how hard you must work to care for me with such elan. As I have just told Wadsworth, I consider us all one big, happy family. We are too few to rest on stuffy tradition. Did you know, Mrs. Tinsdale, I actually know how to bake a pie?"

I knew this would be too much for both women. Her Ladyship had showered them both with more praise in but a few minutes than they'd had in the last four or five years. Granted, I had told Mrs. Tinsdale that both her performance and that of Marie was perfectly acceptable on at least a dozen occasions during that time, but they weren't accustomed to such zeal, particularly from their mistress.

I stood, and pulled two chairs out. I had to physically move both women to a chair. They did sit on their own. I decanted the second bottle of wine, served Our Lady first, and then filled Cook's and Marie's flutes. I suspected they'd need a full glass.

I sat back down. I think it was for several reasons. I knew if I stood, she'd make me sit. And this was a fascinating turn of events. The previous Lady had spoken to the help, of course, but it had always been in a traditional way. She issued instructions, or reprimands, and that was pretty much all. So I was interested in seeing what kind of spell Penny would cast on these two. Mrs. Tinsdale, of course, was much too old to play a role in the Mistress' lusty plan. To her, it appeared Her Ladyship was simply being kind. She had to tell Marie twice to drink, and then Mrs. Tinsdale supported her and said, "Drink it, girl. She's our mistress!" Apparently Marie had never imbibed prior to this. She tasted it carefully, licked her lips, and then looked startled. She took a sip ... then another.

"Blimey! That's tasty!" she sighed. Immediately her hand flew to her mouth and she looked horrified.

"It is tasty," laughed Penelope.

Do not ask me how she did it. While an additional two bottles of wine might have had something to do with it, I am quite convinced that was not the driving force. I am as flustered by it now as I was then.

But within half an hour, all four women were chatting like old friends.

I had to remind Cook that desert had not yet been served.

I did check in on the peephole in Her Ladyship's wall that night. It is good I did.

Curtis was on a two or three day trip, which left Jack in charge, for all practical purposes. Curtis had taken Charley with him to accompany His Lordship, so the only other person in the stables was Stephan, who was about fourteen. I got there just in time to hear the knock on the door. The women were all in their nightgowns, but Sally went to the door and opened it wide without concern.

Jack and Stephan were there. Stephan looked both confused, and scared.

"I brought him, as you ordered, Milady," said Jack. He pushed the boy into the room. Stephan froze, and stared at Her Ladyship in despair, sure he was to be punished. He didn't know what for, but he knew being brought there could not end well. His eyes skittered to each of the girls, both of whom sat primly with their hands in their laps. He knew them both, of course. Her lady's maids often went about the manor doing her business. They used her voice whenever they did some errand for her. Of course both were sweet girls, and never let this authority go to their heads. They simply went where she told them to go and said what she told them to say. They had interacted with Stephan in that manner dozens of times.

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Penelope, Mistress of the Manor

Lubrican

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