“You would gift me Frampton, perfectly legal, and in my name?”
“But of course, and right now, if you wish, for I have papers drawn up to gift it to your father, his debt thus cleared on your becoming my wife. Wife is now out of the frame, so to speak, and mistress on the table and a full deck is a pleasing prospect to this man.”
“Full deck?”
“Any virgin chit will do as my wife, as you would have, though where I wouldn’t have abandoned you entirely once we were wed, as my mistress you shall be my true life partner. Jewels, gowns, name your heart’s desire it shall be yours. You do realise you are a natural beauty of fine bone structure, breasts to fill cupped hands, and a tempting pert arse.”
“But you have a mistress here with you, in fact several, I believe.”
“Hester? Good God, she’s not my mistress. She’s a whore house madam.”
The woman bowed her head in acknowledgment of his crude introduction to her profession.
“You see, Erica, your wilful spirit has set me to thinking you are not as innocent as you would have your father believe, and furthermore, I am of mind you are shrouding a lusty young miss behind that demure countenance of yours.”
Derby would no doubt agree with Farnley on that point of order, for she had discovered something about herself last eventide, and discovered all she had witnessed within the arbour bestowed physical pleasures, untold pleasures she wanted more and more of, but only with Derby.
“Now, if you raise your sweet botty and lift the swab seat, you’ll find a bound folder, a box of quills with ink, and a small travelling lap-desk. Pass up each in good order and Frampton House shall be yours.”
Hester upped and said: “You fool, Tarquin, utter fool. You are out of your head. She’s beautiful, yes, and of fine figure, but not for you, not a man of your sexual bent.”
“Oh come now, Hester,” said he, whilst banging the roof of the carriage with a walking cane. “It takes great effort on your part to rouse my dick from slumber of late, and those chits you brought down from London laboured hard in milking me dry. And look how hard I am. It ain’t going down, and won’t, so long as this delightful creature is near. Why do you think I went to all that trouble to get her, eh?”
“Well on your head be it,” said Hester. “Besides, you’ve had your cock to hand these past miles, and she’ll not take it quietly.”
“Who shall hear her cries of ecstasy, eh, and she’ll never want another once she’s had a feel of this one inside of her, that’s a fact.”
Farnley’s offer all sounded a little too easy, as was his seeming besotted notion, but she, Miss Townsend, would not turn her back on acquisition of Frampton. And unless he added a clause citing her as his mistress before signing, once it was hers she could contest any notions he had of her as his mistress. Besides, she would be securing a house for her mother and her sisters. Nonetheless, it was a dreadful choice; a heart-breaking choice and Farnley had won the day, if but for the present. Thus she fulfilled his edict and wrested all from beneath the seat to secure the dream of Frampton as hers.
A tap at the nearside door sounded, and Farnley said: “Open up, man.”
His footman-cum-aide opened the door and barely raised an eyebrow on seeing his master’s upstanding protuberance. “Sir, the horses are becoming a tad restless.”
“I have business to conduct. When concluded, one tap to the roof and I wish to proceed on my journey.”
“As you wish sir.”
As the carriage door was closed the heavy pounding of a team passed around it on the offside, voices aplenty heard as it carried onward in the direction they were going: a mail coach, perhaps. A single horse likewise trotted onward in the wake of the larger conveyance, and thoughts of Derby riding to the rescue, was fanciful at best and highly unlikely.
Her fate prior sealed as wife to Farnley, now she would become Farnley’s mistress until such time as she was never available, never at Frampton until he tired of paying visit in hope of her return. Thus she would win in the end.
Without any seeming qualms he allowed her to read the contract, and he didn’t add any clauses, and thence signed it. As soon as the ink was dry, he rolled up the parchment and tied a red ribbon around it and handed it to her. “Now, if you would be so good as to replace all the trappings under the seat, we shall celebrate the deal with a little tipple of brandy; a flask thus drawn from his pocket.”
With her task completed he chuckled. “Well, mistress mine, drink up,” said he, passing the flask. “Forget Hester is here, and let us savour an intimate interlude.” With that said, he thumped the roof with the walking cane. The carriage jolted and once again rolled on its way.
Taking a sip, no more for fear of losing her senses on a breakfast free tummy, she handed the flask back, which he promptly corked and thrust across for Hester. He thence reached up and pulled on a tasselled rope hanging from the roof of the coach and a velvet drape fell to shield them from Hester’s sight.
“Now sweeting, what are you going to do with this?” said he, caressing his mass no less diminished than beforehand. “Come ride it, I beg of you. That, or spread your thighs and on my knees I will tickle you with it.”
“Could we not stop at a wayside inn and take a room?” suggested she, half in hope she could find a means of escape from his amorous intentions. “I promise it will be worth the price, and I do so need to relieve myself.”
“If you’re in need of a pee, I can have the coach stop. We’re passing woodland,” said he, nodding to the window. “What say we take a little walk, eh?”
To her chagrin he leaned closer, and caressed a breast whilst emitting soft moaning sounds. Fearing if she didn’t abide to his desires he would take her by force, she steeled herself for the inevitable. The better it would be at her leisure and in gentle manner than be brutalised by him, for his arm encircled about her waist drawing her closer, ever closer.
Suddenly the coach lurched and slowed to an abrupt halt; half in and half out of a roadside ditch. Whilst the lurching momentum thrust Farnley away from her and his head collided with the far window, smashing it to splintered shards she slid from the seat and to the tilting floor. Blood gushed from his head and face and like Hester she thought him dead. Having fallen to the nearside and having grabbed at the velvet drape Hester had torn it from its fixing to the roof, and as soon as gaining her balance she clambered across to him, and said: “Oh my gawd, he’s out cold.”
Scrambling up from the floor where she had toppled, Miss Erica Townsend near fainted when the door to the offside was thrust open and a rider with his face obscured, and pistol to hand, ordered her out. She looked to Hester, and Hester shook her head and feigned a faint, and she did as bid rather than be shot. Trembling in fear and praying another coach would come along, realisation struck her that she was face to face with Derby’s black horse, and it was he astride it brandishing the pistol.
He ordered the coachman to drive on, and as it pulled away, Hester threw the parchment roll out through the open door, and yelled: “Run chit, and keep running,” a big smile on her face.
As the team picked up their pace and the coach sped on its way she ran to the rolled up parchment.
“What have you there?” asked Derby, sitting astride his horse with no saddle, his booted feet dangling.
“I’ll tell you later,” replied she, throwing herself at him as he leaned forward.
His embrace all encompassing, the kiss was heavenly until he set her free again, his expression one of concern. “Are you hurt at all?”
“No. Quite unhurt, and I just want you to know I’m yours as I was last night. Nothing happened.” She wouldn’t tell him of her humiliation, she didn’t want to recall it. “I love you, and—”
“Hush, love, for I had indeed braced myself for the worst, and would have shot the bastard had I found you in a compromising situation.”
“He didn’t, he didn’t. I swear he didn’t.”
“Farnley would have, of that I am
sure, and had Durston not arrived at the inn early and with my curricle instead of the landau, I wouldn’t have had Thunder to hand. As it is, we unhitched him and he has a turn of speed when given his head.”
“He’s sweating, breathing heavy, and his nostrils are dreadfully extended, poor love,” said she, extending a pat to Thunder’s neck.
“He’s had a long canter, and a gallop or two in getting here, now let’s be getting you up and we’ll retreat back to the inn at a leisurely gait. Turn your back to me, and we’ll be on our way.” She did as bid, and he thrust his arm around her upper midriff and hoisted her up as though grasping at a mere feather floating on the ether. Settling her aside Thunder’s withers and cosy within his arms, he enquired: “Comfortable?”
Snuggling against his chest she slipped her right arm around his waist. “I’m with you, and that is all that matters to me.”
He kissed her head. “Barring that parchment you’re clutching as though it’s incredibly precious.”
“It is precious, not for me,” said she, as Thunder set off at a steady walk, “but it will be for mother, Primrose, and Marigold.”
“You can reveal all later, and you’ll be pleased to know a letter awaits you. It’s from Suffolk.”
“Oh lordy, I wonder what mother has to say?”
“According to Marigold, your mother is on her way back, post haste.”
“But I thought Marigold was gone to Bath.”
“Apparently not, for she and Pembrey returned to Brook House at her instigation.”
“Oh lordy, then we must return to Frampton directly, else mother and father will be at odds, more so when she discovers he has a mistress living there, one young enough to be his daughter.”
“Is that wise, for you to return to Frampton?”
“I must, I must, for this parchment will inform father he no longer owns it, though he didn’t if truth be told. Farnley’s bank owned it, and now it belongs to—”
“Who in the deuce owns it then?”
“Me. I do. I won it fair and square, in promising to become Farnley’s mistress. It was a risqué gamble, I admit, and you my love arrived in true heroic manner, when I had felt sure such things only happened in novels.”
“Are you sure it’s legally binding? That he wouldn’t have had you en route in payment? I cannot imagine he signed a house away on a promise of a coupling at a later date.”
“But he did,” lied she, quite sure a white lie would not bring the wrath of God upon her head. “Besides, you as good as held up the coach as a highwayman might have, and when the coach tilted he fell sideways and banged his head and was knocked senseless.”
“What of the deeds to the property?”
“Deeds?”
“Yes, the deeds stating inheritances, previous ownership and such.”
“Oh, I don’t know about deeds.”
“Without them in your hands, that piece of parchment could be claimed a forgery by Farnley, and if he holds the deeds, as I suspect he does, the onus will be on you to prove his signature is genuine. And you will be challenged to prove it so within the courts of justice.”
She truly began to feel duped, and the thought that Farnley would have, by force or otherwise—
Oh lordy, how close had she come to selling herself for a piece of parchment?
“If this is a worthless document then father, mother and my sisters will be without a roof over their heads and no money. While I care not a jot about father and his mistress, I cannot bear the thought of mother finding herself with no home.”
“I am of mind you have sorely underestimated your mother and the reason for her journey to Suffolk. As Marigold will tell you, your mother is an astute woman.”
“Oh? What have you heard?”
“Purely hearsay of Durston overhearing a little of your sister’s glee and outburst,” said he, reining Thunder tight to the side of the highway, but I’ll wager Farnley is in for a shock in the days to come.”
As a mail coach rumbled up behind and passed them by, the coachman said, “Morning folks, nice one for a ride.” The passengers atop were cheery too, a smile from a woman, a wave from a child, and a man doffed his hat, and called back to them: “Fine horse, young man, and a fine filly.”
“Cheek of the man,” said Derby, placing a kiss to her head; a trait she rather liked.
“Am I a fine filly?” asked she, glancing up at him.
His mouth fell on hers stealing her breath for a long lingering kiss, thence: “Fine boned, nicely fleshed, and a smooth delicious ride.”
“Derby, that’s outrageous,” exclaimed she, a pink flush flooding her cheeks, though much as Farnley had declared.
“Nonetheless, you love me, every ounce of me, and would you have me lie about your assets; when we’re alone?”
“Well no, but we are on a public highway.”
He laughed, heartily and kissed her again. Thence: “One day soon, I’ll teach you a thing or two about how useful a curricle can be when a lady takes the reins whilst learning to drive.”
“Is it fun to drive a horse?”
“That you will discover all in good time, and with goodly tuition I dare say you will excel in the art of ride and drive.”
“I do hope so.”
“You will, my love, you will. I promise.”
Epilogue
~
August 4th
~
They were now man and wife and she ecstatically happy, and Manders Court was beautiful. Derby had described the house as best he could, but on seeing it she could barely believe her eyes. And after a month in Bath as newlyweds and having accepted numerous invitations to dine with Lord and Lady This, and Lord and Lady That. Having attended several summer balls, and taken afternoon tea with a duchess, now here she was living in Surrey. Barely had her feet touched the ground, and with Marigold and Pembrey’s wedding a week after her own, time had fled. To say their mother was shocked to learn both her daughters were in love and betrothed upon her return to Frampton with Primrose and, grandmother as well; both were relieved and delighted she and Marigold were in safe hands.
So much had happened in such a short time, and Derby had been right about her mother keeping secrets, though it was grandmother who had foxed her father all those years ago when he had wed her mother. Granted the deeds to Hinton House on his marriage to Honour Beaumont, he and Farnley were unaware it was merely an old dower house with a modest acreage of ten acres, both having assumed that was the extent of her mother’s family home and acreage, neither apparently having studied the deeds in detail. Whereas the deeds to Hinton Park encompassed the main house and seventy acres, to which grandmother held title; and the whole upon grandmother’s death would have become her mother’s.
Albeit grandmother was sixty-seven, she was hale and hearty, and when mother had arrived at Hinton in tears and revealed the fact she was unhappy in her marriage, grandmother insisted she must once again live with her. To prevent father from laying his hands on Hinton Park, the now estranged husband, whom mother could not divorce due to the law of the land preventing such events, grandmother changed her will so that Hinton Park would become the property of the Countess of Epsom. Personal items, jewellery, and monies were to fall to Primrose and Marigold; their mother thus granted lifelong tenure of the Hinton Park Estate.
Grandmother had trusted Derby from the moment of setting eyes on him, in fact quite taken with him. Their mutual interest in equines and the sport of driving had sealed a good and loving friendship, for grandmother drove her pair in tandem and Derby had never driven tandem before, and so taken by driving her grandmother’s pair, on their arrival at Manders Court he had set out to purchase a matching pair and had been driving tandem about the estate for several days.
It was only now that she and Derby were alone, as alone as any couple could be within a house full of servants, and for the first few days she had explored the house, and he had shown her every nook and cranny, every secret passageway. And whilst she had s
tudied portraits he had enlightened on who was who. Thus she was now wholly conversant with his ancestors down the centuries.
A little sigh of wicked delight escaped, for since that night in the inn they had made love in blissful disregard to consequences and as yet she had not fallen with child, and she hoped she wouldn’t for a while longer. It was a tad selfish perhaps, but she wanted to enjoy the freedom to explore life with Derby in wild abandonment and without encumbrance, just a year or two would be perfect, but whatever happened she would embrace the inevitable when it befell her.
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