The butler felt as though he could pass these judgements as he was in relatively good shape for a man his age. He did what he could to avoid unhealthy foods and took regular walks around the manor grounds to get his exercise and fresh air. Of course, he did not pass these judgements out loud. He was not a monster. The only person who knew of his negative feelings about his wife's figure was himself. He did not dare share his thoughts with anybody in the manor for fear they would make it back to his wife. And this likely would have happened as she was quite well liked and everybody told her everything.
Because he did not voice his disapproval of his wife's sagging body, Harrison was forced to think on his feet and come up with an original and believable excuse whenever she stripped to her bare skin and endeavoured to climb on top of him.
"I am too tired," he told her one night in the autumn of 1811. "I cannot engage in those activities tonight."
"But Harrison," protested the maid, refusing to remove herself from him. "Today was your day off."
"I am aware of that, my dear. But I rose early and spent several hectic hours in the city. I have not been idle, you know." He nudged her slightly and continued to do so with growing ferocity until she accepted defeat and left the bed. Angrily, she began to cover her naked body with her old and torn nightdress.
"We have not made love in over two months, Harrison. In fact, I think the last time I felt your member inside me was before the summer."
"I assure you my love, we will return to our promiscuous selves in no time at all. I simply have a great deal of work at the moment here at the manor. Once that is completed, I will be able to devote myself to you entirely."
"And when will that be, Harrison? I do not believe I can wait much longer."
"It will be soon, I promise. But until my workload has decreased, I am afraid I shall not have time for sex."
That was only a half-truth. While Harrison did indeed have quite an impressive amount of work to be completed, his need for sexual gratification had not decreased even the slightest. If anything, it had risen. Like Betty had said, she had not been made love to since before the summer, which meant Harrison had not made love to anybody since before the summer. Since the early months of the year, he had been pleasuring himself at least once a day. As he did this, he would think about a wide variety of women. Women he saw in the street, women he had encountered years earlier, sometimes, he even found himself thinking about Betty. Young Betty. The smiling twenty-to-thirty year old he had fallen in love with. Despite his frequent self-pleasuring, Harrison was still incredibly frustrated. He longed to feel himself entering a woman once again. He missed feeling a lady's moisture as his penis pushed by her gates and into her body. He wanted to hear again those screams, those glorious screams, and the pleas for him to be harder or faster or to go deeper. As a young man in love, he had believed he would never be with any woman who was not Betty. Now, however, he was seriously considering venturing beyond his marital bed in search of a younger girl. Not necessarily a virgin, but somebody whose body was yet to be ravaged by age and too much negativity. Little did Harrison know he would find that woman within the walls of the Duke's manor.
Chapter Two
Though it was a year full of changes, the following day brought nothing new. The butler still had no sexual interest in the maid and there was still nothing she could do to change her mind. In an attempt to maintain her sanity, Betty did her best to channel her sexual energy into her work. She would rise at the crack of dawn, clean herself and then set about cleaning the entire manor. She would clean it from top to bottom and to the top again. She made sure every room in the manor was spotless. She would get down on her hands and knees and scrub the floor until she was bleeding. She would wash the dishes until her hands resembled large, pink raisins. It was all she could do to distract herself.
Unlike her husband, the maid was not one to masturbate. For her, either she would be pleasured by the man to whom she was married or she would not be pleasured at all. While this determination to be loved by the butler did her little favours, it did result in an extremely clean home for the Duke and Duchess.
"Katrina, I assure you that it is just a play," the Duke told his wife as they entered the living room, the room which the maid had exited just moments before. The fire was lighting and two cups of tea rested on saucers atop the mantelpiece, waiting to be claimed by the married couple that took up residence in the living room at this time everyday.
"But it was in the newspaper," the Duchess protested.
"Do you not suspect that if the King had truly been murdered, we would have been informed about it? We are rather important, after all."
"Normally, my love, I would trust you on such matters. But I just cannot fathom why the newspaper would lie about such a thing. What have they to gain?"
"Firstly, the newspapers in this country do not tell the truth. Such a thing would be unprofitable. Secondly, what you were reading was a review of "Macbeth".
"'Macbeth?"
"It is a play, my dear. One of the many classics written by William Shakespeare."
The Duke took his tea from the mantel and made himself comfortable on the couch that Betty had pulled before the fire. The Duchess also retrieved her tea before joining her husband. The Duchess was a beautiful woman, there was no disputing that, but she was not the most intelligent person whom the Duke could have married. During his search for a wife, he had made a mistake that many young men make. He put a great deal more importance on appearance than he did on personality. Before marrying her, however, he had begun to fear that he had chosen a woman who could not keep up with him intellectually, and this was when he decided to consult the two trusted servants who had been with him since the day he was born. Unfortunately, the woman's beauty was so great that even Harrison and Betty could not see the obvious problem. How could anybody with eyes as blue as hers be foolish? How could anybody with hair as blond as hers be a dunce? How could anybody with lips as red and as full as hers be wrong for a wealthy young man such as the Duke? Now, five years after marrying the woman, the Duke still did not know how she could be wrong for him. All he knew was that she was.
Despite the fact that the Duke and Duchess were not on the same level intellectually, the love they made was magnificent. It was wild. It was tempestuous. He loved to feel his wife's skin between his teeth as he bit down on her neck. He rejoiced when he felt her nails dig deep into his back while he was on top of her, thrusting his hips back and forth and moving his penis in and out of her body. Sex with the Duchess made the Duke feel like a king (or Prince Regent).
However, a relationship cannot be sustained on sexual intercourse alone. If Harrison and Betty were sexually frustrated, the Duke was intellectually frustrated. Still, he did what he could to remain close to his wife, as he knew a divorce or separation would land him right in the aforementioned newspaper. If that were to happen, the nation's higher-ups would not be happy. The country was already experiencing something of a crisis with the Prince Regent and the last thing they needed was a Duke with a failing marriage. The monarchy could make things quite difficult for the Duke if they so chose. For this reason, it was in his best interest to simply encourage his wife to widen her interests.
"That play," he said as he placed his arm around the shoulder of his wife, "is really a very entertaining piece. I believe I have a copy of the script in my study, perhaps you would like to read it."
The Duchess shook her head. "Oh no," she told him, "you know as well as I do that I do not have the discipline to read what is surely quite a hefty book."
"Very well, I shall take you to see the play. This very night."
"But Gordon, we cannot go to the theatre tonight. It is too short notice."
"Never mind that, my dear. I will call upon Harrison and have him inform the theatre owners that we will be attending the performance this evening. I am sure they will be quite accommodating.
And so, the date was made. The Duke and Duchess would attend upon t
he large theatre, which was located in the centre of the town, for a performance of the Scottish play. A play which the Duke hoped would peak the curiosity of his wife and send her on a voyage of self-learning.
Chapter Three
Once the sun had gone down and it was nearing time to leave the manor, the Duke fastened his finest coat and ascended the staircase. His destination was his chamber, where the Duchess was taking longer than expected to get ready.
"My dear," he called as he approached the room, "it is almost time for us to leave." He received no answer. Not even a mutter. "My dear?" He knocked on the chamber door, which was closed. He did not dare to enter. In these days, the only time a man had any reason to see his wife in the nude was if he was about to make love to her. If he entered the room when she was dressing herself, she would be just as shocked as she would have been if a stranger were to walk in on her and her bare skin.
"The driver is waiting for us," he said as he continued to knock on the chamber door. "We must be on our way if we don't want to miss the opening act. It is rather essential to the story."
"Curse it," he thought to himself, "this is what I get for marrying a beautiful woman." He left the chamber door and searched the manor for Betty, the only other woman in the home and therefore the only person who could see the Duchess as she prepared herself for the evening. After searching over a dozen of the manor's rooms, he found her in the study, where she was rehanging pictures.
"My Lord, come to do some reading I suppose?" A smile stretched across her face as she spoke. The only time the woman could put her sexual frustrations aside was when she was talking to the Duke, with whom she had a mother-son like relationship.
"To the contrary Betty, the Duchess and I are going to be quite late to the theatre if she does not get a move on. She is currently locked away in her chamber, getting ready for the evening. Would you mind going in there and telling her to hurry up?"
"My Lord..."
"You do not need to say it in such certain terms. Be polite but make sure you do not leave the chamber without her."
The maid was confused. This much was clear to the Duke.
"Betty, whatever is the matter?"
"I'm afraid I cannot do what you are asking."
"You need not worry about the Duchess reacting negatively to the interruption. She is quite fond of you."
"It is not that, my Lord."
"Then what is it?"
"The Duchess left the manor an hour ago."
"What? What do you mean?" he demanded, startled by the news.
"I mean just that, my Lord. The Duchess left here an hour ago."
"That blasted woman! Where has she gone? Was she so eager to see the Scottish play that she could not wait for me to be ready?" The Duke would not have minded if this was indeed the reason his wife had left early. He quite liked the idea of her enjoying the theatre so much that she left the manor with an hour to spare. However, he had a feeling that this was not why his wife had fled.
"I believe she mentioned that she was journeying into the city to visit an old friend who was in need of some company."
"And why did you not tell me this sooner?"
"I would have, my Lord, but I thought you knew."
The Duke turned around and kicked the door of the study, which caused it to slam shut.
"That blasted wife of mine!" he declared, not caring that the maid was present to witness his anger.
"Come now, Gordon, it is not so horrific of her to leave the manor because her friend is in need." Though Betty was usually an obedient maid and referred to her master with suitable titles, she always addressed by his first name whenever she felt he was being unreasonable. Having been in his life for such a great amount of time, she could practically address him in any manner she chose and not fear repercussions.
"I am not angry that she went to visit her friend, I am angry that she did not tell me before she did so! I am angry that she has left me with a driver waiting to take me to the theatre and a private box once I get there! Oh my goodness, what if the actors should bow to me at the end of the final act? I shall have to rise and wave to the people and they will all see that I am alone! I will be a laughing stock!"
"You are going to the theatre?" asked Betty. She did not pass comment on anything else he had mentioned. She did not care about his fears of being laughed at because he was alone. Nor did she care all that much about the Duchess' failure to inform him that she was going into the city. The maid was interested, however, in the theatre. She loved the theatre, but her husband did not. He refused to take her to any performance of any play regardless of the occasion, which meant the maid was forced to read plays and imagine what the lines would be like if they were acted out upon a stage.
"You are going to the theatre?" she asked again, having received no reply the first time. The Duke had not heard her over the sound of his fist slamming against the study wall.
"Not if I can help it, Betty," he said finally. "No man, let alone a Duke, should go to the theatre alone. It would be an embarrassment."
"What play is being performed?"
"Macbeth."
"Macbeth? Oh how wonderful!" The maid clasped her hands and held her rag tightly between her palms. "Is this a dagger I see before me?" she began, "The handle pointing towards my hand."
Betty would have continued in this manner for some time if the Duke had not cut her off. He had seen enough of her transparent attempt to win herself a ticket to the theatre and he was prepared to offer her one if she vowed to never again try to act.
"Would you like to come with me tonight, Betty?" he asked.
"Me? Go to the theatre? A poor maid and a Duke? Why you would be more of a laughing stock than if you went alone."
"Do not have such a low opinion of yourself, Betty. You have been an incredibly important figure in my life and if the people of the United Kingdom cannot accept you, then they are not people of the United Kingdom. Besides, if you change out of your uniform, nobody will be able to tell you are a maid."
Betty was a tad insulted by that last remark but quickly forgot it as she was too delighted by the news that she would be going to the theatre with the Duke. Also forgotten was the lack of sexual intercourse in her life. She exited the study and ascended the staircase as quickly as a child descends the staircase on Christmas day and locked herself away in her chamber. She had just enough time to strip from her uniform and throw on her finest clothes. A gown and a pair of shoes, which she had worn to the wedding of the Duke and Duchess. Her hair needed to be placed in a bun but she decided that could wait until she was in the carriage with her employer. She washed her face, left a short note for her husband and left the chamber. The whole process - from the moment she climbed the stairs, to the moment she returned to the Duke - took less than five minutes. In the hallway, she looped her arm through the Duke's and they were on their way.
Chapter Four
It is important at this time to inform you that the Duchess had indeed ventured into the city to visit an old friend. It is easy to be suspicious of a beautiful woman who mysteriously disappears, but the Duke's wife was not an adulterer (just yet). She had fully intended to go to the theatre with her husband. In fact, she had been quite looking forward to it. However, when a messenger arrived at the manor to tell her that her dear friend, Ms Alexia Calloway, was swearing to end her own life again, she had no choice but to leave her home immediately. Alexia Calloway, who was a childhood friend of the Duchess, was also a wealthy woman. Unlike the Duchess, who came from a wealthy family, Alexia married into her money. Her husband was a grey haired old man of sixty years who was already twice widowed by the time she met him. His was a writer and had experienced quite enough heartbreak in his life to make him a very good one. When the young woman agreed to marry him, his money blinded her, much like the Duke had been blinded by the Duchess' beauty. Of course, now that she had been married to the old fool for three years, she regretted ever having chosen money over love. Especially since her
Mr. Calloway was far more concerned with his writing than he was with his wife. At the time of this story, he was working on a novel, which detailed the life of a man who had married a woman significantly younger than him. A novel demanded much dedication and so the author would lock himself away in his study for hours at a time. Sometimes he would be in there for days, leaving Alexia feeling isolated and without hope.
"You need to get out of this," the Duchess told Alexia as she poured her a glass of wine.
"This house?" Alexia asked.
"All of this. This house. This lifestyle. This marriage."
"But I cannot leave Paul. Where would I go? I would be without shelter. Not to mention money."
"Oh do not worry about such things. You are a bright girl and I am quite sure you will have no trouble earning an income."
Alexia was not as convinced of her intelligence as the Duchess was. She was rather an insecure girl and had always experienced difficulties believing in herself beyond a physical level. Perhaps this was because all she needed to do to see that she was attractive was look in one of the many mirrors that could be found in the author's home. Beauty is a lot easier to prove than intelligence.
Alexia began to cry for the second time that night. She had been crying when the Duchess arrived as she had realised that she did not posses the courage required to place her head through the noose, which she had fashioned out of a pair of her husband's trousers. Now she was crying because it was just such an unpleasant conversation. It is not, and has never been easy, to hear your nearest and dearest friend tell you that you are better off living in poverty than remaining married to the man to whom you have dedicated the last three years of your life.
The Duke's Dilemma: Regency Romance Menage Short Stories Page 23
