'Do I pay him too little then, John?'
'You don't pay him at all, mistress. It's an outrage, he is dressed well and he eats plenty, but how is he supposed to make a life for himself when he hasn't a penny of his own?'
Looking at Guy, her butler defended himself, 'He couldn't do anything when he arrived, Mrs Beauchamp, so I didn't pay him. We spent ages teaching him his duties, but John is right, he is a valuable servant by now, he needs little supervision and he works until he drops. I think he'd be a great husband and father if someone would have him.'
John humphed, Agnes couldn't imagine she had once found his country look ruggedly attractive, but he clearly had guts to talk to her like that.
'You pay him a normal salary, say like mine, and I'll have four pretty spinsters his own age for him to choose from, ready to meet him tomorrow.
One of them, Maria Woods, is even rather smart, too smart for most folk around here. She never had a chance to marry, but I guess Dick likes smart women, being used to you, mistress. If my Beatrice talks to her she'll come to visit. Of course there is talk about this house and about Dick being stupid and dangerous, but neither of those four will be picky or they'll risk being alone, childless, and living with their folks forever.'
'You'd always be good to your wife and children, wouldn't you Dick?'
Dick had just returned, and Dennis wanted to include him in the
conversation.
'John was just saying it's time you got married.'
It sounded as if they had had this discussion before. Dick professed no girl wanted him, and Dennis told him they would, once they got to know him.
'You're doing so well learning to read! No one can say you're stupid anymore, Dick, and you're a great lover. A girl wants a good lover, you know.'
'But how would she know? I can't tell her if she won't even see me.'
'Leave that to me, Dick,' John said, 'if the mistress pays you the wages you deserve, enough to keep a wife and family, I'll have Beatrice find you a girl. I was thinking of Maria Woods, she's nearly thirty but still very pretty.'
'Maria Woods? She'd never even look at me in church, when mum and dad still lived hereabouts. She'll never have me.'
'And I tell you she will, Dick. That was years ago, when she still hoped a prince, or a doctor, would come and take her to town. By now she knows that ain't going to happen, and she's heard things from her friends who are married, about men drinking and beating their wives, about having to please them at their every whim, about men neglecting children, hanging in pubs, cuckolding their wives.'
'I'd never do that! I love children and I never drink. And I can restrain myself, ask Dennis.'
As Dennis nodded to support Dick's claim, John made his point.
'Exactly, Dick, you'd never be like that. And you have a good job. Which makes you very eligible by now, there aren't that many bachelors left, and those as still are unmarried are ugly, drunk or raving mad. Or slackers, living with their parents and doing nothing. Believe me, Maria will be very pleased to see the new Dick Parsons.'
And surely enough, the day after the next Maria Woods came to tea, with John's wife Beatrice. They sat in the kitchen with all the servants, drinking tea or coffee with their usual fare, which was plentiful and of excellent quality, and Maria seemed impressed. Dick didn't talk much, he was shy, but Patrick had groomed him the night before and he looked rather good, still homely, but well-built, and healthy, and very clean. John and Beatrice stayed with them throughout their visit, Patrick, Guy and Dennis merely said hello, then left the four to themselves. It was difficult to leave, for they'd depend on John for a report and John was not a kindred spirit. Still, he had arranged all this and he was a local, whereas the other three were townspeople and would stay such even if they lived here the rest of their lives and were buried in the
churchyard.
Agnes of course couldn't be seen in the kitchen, the whole village would talk, and that would not improve Dick's suit.
When Maria had left Dick looked a bit overcome, but not unhappy, and he went straight for Dennis. 'She noticed me, Dennis, she talked to me. I couldn't talk much, she was so pretty, I was a bit stunned. But John explained I was shy, and he said I was very good at my job, and very nice and always friendly. I think she liked me. She said she wanted children, and a home of her own, and a man who would really love her and value her.
John said that was me.
When she left, she said, 'Until next time, Dick.' And she took my hand. I think I like her.'
But John did not leave anything to chance, the next day, Helen Valentine came to tea, and two others came on other days that week. John and Beatrice drank tea with Dick and every one of the women, and as Dick got used to having visitors, he started to be able to talk more.
'I did not say anything stupid, I guess, for Nelly also said, 'Thank you for the pastries and tea, Dick, until next time.'
But I look forward to Maria visiting again, she is the prettiest and the nicest, and I dare to talk to her now.'
Ever since Agnes had taken up her writing again, Dennis had looked for something to do himself. He practised reading, if he were living with a writer he'd have to be able to read well, and he picked up his exercises, building muscle and stamina in the fresh air, acquiring a tan and an athletic figure.
But he was used to constant occupation in the army, sitting indoors and still just wasn't in his nature, he needed to be active.
Gentleman's sports didn't interest him, he rode with Agnes to be with her, and he liked riding his new hunter a lot, she was a magnificent horse and just spirited enough for him. He learned to track animals, tracking people he had been taught in the army, and of course he was an expert marksman, he could teach Agnes a few tricks to improve her aim, not the other way around. But Dennis refused to hunt, he would not shoot living creatures, not even for food.
'I don't mind your hunting, Agnes, but I just can't shoot anything anymore.
Aim, pull the trigger and see something die. I've killed too many people, I've seen too much carnage, I'll help you carry your kills, and I'll maintain and repair your rifles, I'll enjoy eating whatever you shoot, but I'm not going to
kill again, not ever.'
For while Dennis was almost deliriously happy by day, he still had terrible nightmares, and rarely managed to sleep a night from start to finish. He usually became restless in his sleep first, mumbling and thrashing, he would sweat and start wheezing, and if Agnes caught him in this stage and stroked him gently, he'd quiet down. He always recognized her touch and never offered her violence like the first time she stroked him in his sleep, no matter how horrible his dreams were.
If she slept too deeply to notice his nightmare he'd sometimes quiet again, but more often he'd wake up, totally distraught with what he had seen or felt, wheezing violently, afraid of his own shadow. He used to just lie awake the rest of the night, trying to cope with the memories and the fear on his own, but pretty soon after they started sharing a bed, Agnes woke one night to find him staring blankly into the dark, clutching the blanket, sweaty but cold, wheezing as badly as he had at his worst.
Her gentle touch had snapped him out of his catatonic state, and he'd broken down and cried his eyes out, telling her about the flash-backs he had, of the people he'd killed, and the times he had barely escaped with his life. Agnes had listened to him for hours, holding him tightly and stroking him all the time, shocked to the core by the picture he painted of what battle had been like, of what his life had been.
When he was too tired to talk anymore she said, 'I'll listen to you whenever you need it, my love. But now you need to sleep, I seem to remember you had a way to divert my attention from any unwanted thoughts haunting me, and we'll use it now.'
And she used her intimate knowledge of him to tantalize him to a sexual frenzy, after which she offered herself to him, tempting him to just fuck her to forget his troubles for a few moments. It worked, he rutted with her like a madman, and his release combined
with his exhaustion sent him to sleep almost instantly. She stayed awake for another half hour, stroking him until his wheezing stopped and his breathing slowed.
Then she went back to sleep herself, and the next morning she urged him to wake her whenever he had one of those episodes, he needed to talk about his memories if he was to ever sleep fearlessly, the very thought of her beloved lying in bed right next to her, too afraid to go back to sleep, was just excruciating. Put that way, he understood why she wanted to suffer broken nights for him, and after a few weeks of consistent talking his fear to go to
bed lessened and his nightmares only returned when he was tense or anxious.
Chapter 9
Knowing what he had done, and what his early youth had been like, Agnes was stunned to find him such a mild, well-mannered man. He really hadn't had a chance to learn gentle ways, but that didn't show at all, he could have easily been an officer or a tradesman. And he was well on his way to becoming a gentleman in all his ways, which was good, for Agnes' editor was urging her to come to town for the presentation of her new book, shake hands with her readers, talk to them. Her books didn't have a large print but they were very expensive and exclusive, and her editor knew exactly who her readers were since they ordered their copies personally, deciding on the quality of the paper and the colour of the leather cover on the spot. They could have the titles on the back left off or have them worked in gold leaf.
With such a clientele it was entirely reasonable to expect her to meet them in person, those who weren't ashamed to admit to reading naughty novels.
Though for a certain fee she'd even talk to them in private, and of course the concerted sessions were not exactly public events either.
Going to town was always a chore to Agnes, her way of life met with so much disapproval of her own class, and to Guy and Patrick it was a constant strain to keep a distance from each other. They were used to being openly affectionate with one another, and that just wouldn't do among other servants.
She decided to just ask Dennis, and when they next dined together on Sunday, Cook insisting on presenting them with his finest effort 'to stay in practice,' and Dennis asked how to use some utensil and an extra napkin, she first explained, then asked a question that had been at the tip of her tongue for weeks.
'My love, how come you don't look or act like someone from the streets at all? Your accent is perfect, and besides these little details that show only on the most exclusive of dinners, your table manners and general comportment are so gentleman-like.'
He smiled delightedly at her compliments, he was still so eager to please her and so easy to please himself, his capacity to enjoy simple things was almost
child-like, like running down that hill, or sitting in a pen with puppies, letting them crawl all over him. Then his face became serious, and he explained.
'I used to have an atrocious accent, I can still do it, my language would have blistered your ears. And during my first years as a private, nothing changed.
But then I got a new officer, a kind young gentleman who liked me, and who hoped I might rise through the ranks because of my skills at soldiery and leading others. So he spent time teaching me to lose the accent and clean up my speech, and he showed me how a gentleman looked and behaved in company.
Sadly, he never managed to get me promoted, and a year after we had both accepted I'd stay a private serving him, he was killed in action. I was devastated, but I had to fight on or be killed myself. Few of our company survived that battle. I'm glad you think what I learned from him helped, I knew my old manners and speech would never serve me again so I worked hard to get over them, and I'd like to be worthy of your company some day, and not have people say you snatched a boy off the streets to do your bidding.'
Which was more or less what she had planned, but now things were different, now she wanted to take Dennis along to social functions, if he agreed.
'My editor wants me to come to London to talk to my readers, a few weeks'
stay in which we can discuss a new book, handle the finances, catch up on each other's lives, and attend functions where the rich ladies who read my novels can ask questions and make suggestions about their own fantasies. I always use the occasion to visit a few plays and order some new dresses and shoes, get a high dose of town before I go back to the country, so to speak.
Patrick and Guy accompany me, as my personal attendant and my financial expert, but I always have to visit the other events by myself. Would you consider accompanying me this time? I dread people's looks when I arrive by myself, some men always feel called upon themselves to force their attentions on me, and when I refuse, they make things difficult for both of us.'
Dennis looked at her seriously and replied, 'If you aren't afraid that my presence will cause even more scandal I would love to. I'm a bit anxious to be caught out, though. I understand no-one will expect to find a deserter among the rich and famous, but still I'd worry. My neck is on the line, and your happiness.'
The very thought caused her to shudder, and she took his hand and pressed it to her lips.
'I thought of that and asked Patrick. He thinks he can change your appearance radically, your hair has grown enough to make it curly, dye a few strands a shade darker so the total colour changes, grow a moustache. Maybe wear colourful clothes?'
Dennis tried to picture himself as Agnes described him and though he saw a dandy, he realized that would be his best protection, no-one would suspect a dandy to be a deserter from the lowest possible social class.
'Besides,' Agnes continued, 'your walk is different already, much less tense and less guarded, and your attitude is very secure and independent. I guess no-one would recognize you as an army man even like this, but to be sure we'd change your looks and change your name as well. I don't plan to join society heads-on, just those meetings and they will be very private, and a few public events. You'll love concerts and plays, and I wouldn't mind us ordering a fancy coat and some superb riding boots for you either.'
'I'm game,' he assured her. 'I'd like to see town from a whole new perspective, and I don't like the idea of your being exposed to obtrusive men. I feel a need to protect you and you know I can, better than any hired retainer. Would a hotel take our word for being a married couple?'
That was actually very funny.
'We don't need to stay in a hotel, my love, I have a house in London. Didn't I ever tell you?'
Apparently she didn't.
'A house in town? In what part?'
She described the house Frederick had bought them, large but not oppressively so, very homely and with a ridiculously large garden for a town house.
'It costs me a fortune in staff and I hardly ever visit but I don't mind, I have it to spare and my people need to make a living. They're not like the guys here, though, they do gossip, making my visits rather hard on Guy and Patrick. The housekeeper there will hire a few maids while we're staying over, they'll keep an eye on us as well, but I don't really care, as long as we keep your past in the army a secret of course.'
'I can't believe you have a house in town. And a garden as well?'
'A beautiful garden. You'll love it, it's not as large as Charles' little paradise here, but the soil is so much better, things thrive there that would die here.'
For by this time, Dennis had taken to gardening, he had first accompanied Charles to make friends with him, but he found that weeding and pruning
kept his hands occupied and his mood sunny, even on rainy and stormy days.
Seeing things grow was such a pleasure and Charles really knew a lot, even about Cook's kitchen garden, which he didn't mind keeping up for the older man.
Soon, Dennis was spending a lot of his time in the garden, freeing Charles more and more to spend time on his art, beautiful sculptures of iron and glass, and paintings, which he sold in the nearest town to buy materials for his sculptures. When Dennis mentioned going to London, Charles sighed.
'I miss London, I came here looking for peace
and quiet, and I found it, but now after two years here I find I miss the energy and the liveliness of a city.
Customers, too. But Mrs Beauchamp has been very good to me, and frankly I still need the income of a steady job. Still, a man can dream.'
And for some of them, their dream actually came true. By now, Dick had met with three local spinsters regularly, and he admitted to Dennis that Maria was still his favourite.
'She really likes me, I think. She asks me questions, then gives me time to think of an answer, she really wants to know me. The others just want a house of their own and children, but Maria told me she wants passion, and a little bench in front of the house to sit in the evenings and watch the children play, or the sun set.
And when we were alone, she asked me to kiss her, and I did. You know, she had never done that before and she waited for me to start, and to show her how it was done. It was so hot, Dennis, she let me lead. She said she never knew I was so nice and had grown up so tall and strong, and when I kissed her she sat on my lap, right where my dick was beneath my trousers, and I nearly lost it. Of course I can control myself now, so I merely kissed her again, but I really want to be with a woman again.
Do you think she'll let me lead in bed as well? I hope I can do it, for John says it is different with virgins, they need careful handling. What does he mean by that, Dennis? What's a virgin? I didn't dare ask, I was afraid he'd laugh at me.'
Dennis soothingly said, 'You'll do just fine, Dick, you're such a great lover.
What John meant was that virgin girls, girls who have never made love yet, are narrow and if you take them roughly, as the mistress likes it, it hurts them at first. You need to be very gentle with them, take it easy and watch them all the time to see if they still like it. But that is what people say, I have never slept with a virgin so I don't know if it's true. Still, you'd better be careful
anyway, with your size even a camp follower would look twice.'
'What's a camp follower, Dennis?'
Mistress Agnes Page 11
