Pride and Retribution

by Lyndsey Norton

The Duke’s butler had seen the two courtesans into a carriage for the local doctors and had assigned a foot man to care of them. Ashton sighed in frustration and again thought about changing his employer. He was a discerning butler and the agency had said the Duke had already had fifteen butlers in the last seven years. He was sickened at the behaviour in this house. A light knock on the front door came and he opened it in his usual stately manner. ‘Yes?’ He enquired of the lady standing on the door step, completely dressed in black with her face covered in a heavy black veil. She stepped over the doorstep and held up a large leather satchel.

  ‘In there is two thousand guineas.’ Her voice was rough and unfamiliar. ‘Take the entire staff below stairs and stay there until morning, no matter what you hear. The Lord’s retribution has arrived for your master. I would suggest you seek out new employment tomorrow.’

  ‘Do I have an alternative?’ Ashton asked softly and turned as another lady bearing a sharp looking dagger came through the door.

  ‘Yes, you can choose death instead. Believe me, we are more than willing to do it.’ She said coldly.

  ‘I will comply.’ Ashton said calmly and accepted the purse. ‘I was going to resign tomorrow anyway.’

  By the time the butler had collected all of the staff below stairs, there was a veritable gaggle of black veiled women standing silently in the hallway. He found the sight quite malevolent and rushed through the door to below stairs as fast as his legs would take him.

  The wraith like women climbed the stairs in the dim light and all candles were extinguished in their path. There wasn’t a woman among them who didn’t know where they were going or the layout of the house.

  They gathered outside the ducal suite and slowly eased the door open as the hinges had been specifically oiled earlier in the evening, by one courtesan who was even now undergoing medical treatment. Softly they crossed the sitting room and again opened the oiled bedroom door, seeing the huge ducal bed in the centre of the raised dais in the moonlight flooding through the window. They billowed into the room like a black cloud until they stood around the bed like dark sentinels. Slowly they lifted the eiderdown off him and then the sheets and blankets, until he was lying uncovered on the bed. His nightshirt was rucked tightly around his upper thighs. Very carefully four of the women slipped the length of black silk ribbon they carried about his ankles and wrists.

  Harriet Saunders whispered in the Duke’s ear. ‘Ernest? You should wake up now. It’s your turn to feel the pain.’

  ‘Mmm?’ he mumbled, barely awake. But he jerked awake as the women yanked on the long ribbons and secured them firmly to the bed posts.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he bellowed and tried to buck himself free of his bindings. ‘You’ll pay for this!’ he snapped with all ducal pride.

  ‘Retribution.’ The six women said all at the same time as Harriet Saunders slit the front of his nightshirt with her dagger. She was gratified to see his erection was quite impressive.

  The Duke screamed as the first blade sank into his abdomen, but it was more a bellow of frustration than pain, but the screams became more real as his manhood and testicles were sliced off and after that they turned to whimpers, until Harriet Saunders thrust her dagger into his heart. She delicately stood his genitals up in his mouth, smiled under her veil and sighed in satisfaction. She surveyed the bloody body with the dagger’s hilts protruding from his flesh.

  ‘All debts are paid, Your Grace. Enjoy hell.’

  *****

  Wilfred opened his eyes and looked at the mountain that was Lucille de Lacy. Her belly was like mount Snowdon under the white sheet. He was amazed to see his child move. It was like watching a wave roll under her skin and he could see it even through the sheet. Gently he smoothed his hand over the rolling bulge and felt his child kick.

  ‘Oooh!’ Lucy groaned, ‘that hurt you little weasel.’

  ‘Good morning my love.’ Wilfred whispered and leaned over to kiss his wife’s cheek.

  ‘Good morning.’ She said and began to struggle to get up. ‘I wish you would hurry up and get out of there.’ She told the child kicking her bladder. ‘It’s most uncomfortable.’ Wilfred pushed his hand under her shoulders and helped lever her upright. She hurried to the commode behind the screen and he heard her sigh with relief as she passed a copious amount of water. She appeared from around the screen and Wilfred’s heart jumped against his ribs as he looked at her ethereal beauty, her simple cotton gown floating around her fruitful body like a cloud and her dark hair cascading over her back.

  She smiled at him coyly as she saw his arousal tent the sheet covering his lower body. ‘I can see you are in the mood this morning.’ She murmured as she arrived at his side of the bed. She caught up the edge of the sheet as he laid back and folded his hands behind his head. She whipped the sheet off his body and just stood looking at his proud erection with relish. It fairly jutted up from the nest of curls in his groin, as if seeking her attention. ‘I have a feeling, my love, that this will be our last chance for this, for a few weeks, anyway.’ She lifted her gown and climbed onto the bed, straddling his thighs.

  ‘Why is that, my precious?’ he asked as he watched her remove her nightgown and marvelled at her breasts and the bulge of his unborn child. Slowly he smoothed his hands over that mountain of flesh.

  ‘Can you not see?’ she asked as she sat there looking down at him. He frowned and shook his head. ‘Look closer, Will.’ She took his hand and pressed it over the top of her bump. ‘Can you not see how far it has dropped?’ He noticed that the bump no longer seemed to be crammed up under her breasts and he could see a definite flat spot under her breasts before her skin bulged out with his child. He nodded again, still unable to find his voice. ‘Soon it will be here.’ She said and smiled.

  ‘How long?’ he croaked out and cleared his throat.

  ‘A matter of days, maybe sooner.’ She said as she slowly traversed his erection, making it pulse in her hand.

  ‘Damn, you test me, Madam.’ He murmured as his breath hitched.

  ‘Then let’s take a trip to Nirvana, before it’s too late.’ She smiled again and raised herself up, slowly lifting his penis and settling herself over it. They both sighed in ecstasy as her silky core sheathed him. She swirled her hips and made him groan.

  ‘Are you sure you can manage this way?’ he asked in a rather guttural voice, she thought. When she did this to him, he usually lost control of his speech and talked bawdy to her. She raised her eyebrows at him and she could see his lavender eyes glittering. ‘I could turn you over and give it to you on your knees.’

  She frowned as she lifted and then sank again. ‘Do you not like this?’ she asked coyly, to which he groaned again.

  ‘I like it well enough, Madam, but you are being enigmatic again.’ He grabbed her hands and looked her firmly in the eye. ‘If it becomes too much, just let me know.’ He said and moaned again as he laid her palms on his chest. After a couple of more minutes it was obvious she was finding it a strain. Deftly he lifted her off his member with such strength that Lucy sucked in her breath. Carefully he set her down on the bed and scrambled behind her. ‘Just relax and leave it to me.’ He murmured as he stroked his hand down her back, over her hips and around the belly. Slowly he slid his manhood over her throbbing sex, making her moan and he teased her clitoris with the head for a moment, before sliding back to her entrance and slowly entering her throbbing passage. He gasped as he felt the tiny muscles pulse at his invasion and Lucy buried her face in the pillow. He stroked gently in and out of her body, holding his child in his hands. Nothing was rushed or harsh and he gently stroked her clitoris to bring her total fulfilment. He felt her start to orgasm and slowly pushed in to the hilt and ejaculated smoothly. Gently he laid his cheek against her back, still cradling her belly in his hands. ‘I love you, Lucille.’ He whispered as he slowly withdrew from her and rolled them both carefully on their sides.

  They lay unmoving for a time and Wilfred just remembered their tempestuou
s lovemaking from the very first time. He gently stroked his hand over her hair. ‘Are you alright, my love?’ he murmured in her ear.

  ‘That was wonderful, Will, but I was right. We won’t be doing that again for a while. I feel rather dizzy and uncomfortable.’ She replied, making him get up on his elbow and look at her face. She turned to him with a gentle smile and he knew he would love this woman for the rest of his life. ‘We should get up.’ She murmured, but he was watching her eyelids close and knew she would be asleep in a few moments. Making love in the morning wore her out quickly now and he knew she was right. It was time to stop before they endangered either her or the child. It didn’t take long for Lucy to start snoring gently and he felt all the muscles in her body relax and again felt his child roll under her skin. He nuzzled his face against her side. ‘You are very active this morning. You should sleep and give your mother some rest.’ He murmured before he climbed carefully out of bed. He flicked the sheet over her before heading to his dressing room where his valet was waiting with a hot bath. He washed himself, was shaved and almost managed to dress himself before he went down to breakfast. He still had problems with his cravat and was grateful his valet was there. He met Betsy on the stairs. ‘She’s napping, Betsy.’ He smiled at the maid. ‘Give her half an hour.’

  ‘I don’t think so, My Lord. She rang the bell.’ Betsy said indignantly, smiled and continued up the stairs.

  As he entered the breakfast room, Howard Cuthbertson was helping himself to a heaped plate of food. ‘Don’t you ever eat at home?’ Wilfred asked.

  ‘You know I like your cook, Will.’ He smiled gamely. ‘She’s the finest cook in London and your wife keeps the best table.’ He looked sharply behind Wilfred. ‘Is she not well?’

  ‘She’s fine, but she overdid it this morning, so she’s having a little more sleep.’

  ‘Are you still tupping your Countess?’ Howard asked lasciviously.

  ‘More like my Countess is still tupping me!’ Wilfred helped himself to a smaller breakfast. ‘It was her decision, not mine. I just didn’t argue. But I think tupping is at an end for now. She was pale and dizzy afterwards.’ Wilfred didn’t think it strange to share this kind of intimacy with his friend. Over the years they had very few secrets from each other.

  They ate in silence and then opened the newspapers. Wilfred was reading The Times and Howard was flicking through a gossip rag that had caught his eye. ‘Don’t let Lucy see that rag in this house, she might just lynch you.’ Wilfred said as he turned a page.

  ‘That’s unusual, as I found it on your doorstep.’ Howard replied and frowned.

  ‘You did?’ Wilfred asked in astonishment, and folded his broadsheet down to frown at his friend. ‘Why would it be on our doorstep? Lucy won’t have it in the house and anyway, Connors sends the boy for the papers. I don’t think we have them delivered.’

  Right then the lady of the house opened the door and waddled into the breakfast room. She was wearing a very voluminous day gown of the palest lemon muslin, the cuffs edged in pale cream lace, the pearl buttons on the bodice vanishing under the pale cream fichu about her décolletage. She smiled at Wilfred and kissed the top of his head as she passed him by on the way to the sideboard. ‘Good morning Howard, how are you today?’

  ‘I’m not blooming as much as you.’ He replied as he stood and went over to his hostess. He kissed her firmly on the cheek. ‘Try the kidney’s, they are spectacular this morning.’

  ‘Actually I’m not particularly hungry,’ Lucy admitted as she lifted the lid on a salver of buttered kippers. She grimaced in distaste. ‘I was just going to have a little toast. I really don’t fancy a big breakfast.’ She turned and smiled at Howard, who was holding out a chair for her. ‘Do you know, darling? I don’t need you when Howard is around. He fusses over me like a mother hen!’

  Wilfred signalled the footman and he vanished away to fetch fresh tea and toast for the Countess. ‘Good! I’m glad my best friend and saviour knows how to treat my wife.’ He sighed and put down the paper. ‘You never know, maybe one day he will have one of his own.’

  ‘Not possible, Will! You took the best one for yourself!’ and all three laughed. ‘Anyway, you know I’m waiting for Eleanor.’

  The footman returned with a huge tray with tea things, a toast rack and all the post on it. ‘Ah! The post!’ Wilfred said with a smile and snapped his paper closed.

  ‘Good! Maybe I can have this and Lucy can flick through the gossip rag left on your doorstep!’ Howard said cheerfully as he snatched up The Times and snapped the paper to read the front page.

  Lucy looked disgusted. ‘Why would anyone leave this rag on my step?!’ she asked indignantly. ‘I have never subscribed to it and neither did my mother.’ Handling the paper with distaste, she laid it flat on its face on the table and started opening the pages from the back. She had only turned three pages when she sucked in a huge breath in shock. ‘Oh! My God!’ burst from her as her hand flew to her throat.

  ‘What is it?’ Wilfred asked, immediately on his feet and standing over his wife. ‘Is it time?’ He placed a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘No, my love. No,’ she patted his hand absently. ‘It’s this.’ She said and pointed to the printed page and the main article.

  PROMINENT DUKE MURDERED! Screamed across the top of the page. Both men gathered to read the article over Lucy’s shoulder.

  The very prominent and debauched Duke of Markham, known especially for his vices and sins, was discovered yesterday morning brutally murdered in his bed! Having been tied to the bed with silk ribbons, his nightshirt had been slashed open and his body had been stabbed at least a hundred times. Certain debauched parts of his anatomy had been separated from his body and placed prominently in his mouth, one can only wonder if this defacement had occurred post mortem, or whether he was still alive before the knife was thrust into his heart to end his life! The investigators suspect more than one perpetrator as the Duke’s body was left with a dozen knives standing in his flesh.

  His household servants were shocked to make the discovery, but they don’t seem particularly surprised by this turn of events. The butler has assured the investigators that he saw no callers that evening after he had sent the two courtesans the Duke had entertained himself with, off to a physician and his master had retired to bed. It’s strange that they didn’t hear anything either!

  This gossip columnist is not surprised that the debauched and vicious Duke should meet his maker in such a fashion. I’m sure half of the father’s in London will be breathing easier this morning! And certainly so will many courtesans, Cyprians and mistresses. Praise God that all future debutantes will not suffer at the hands of so debauched a noble!

  There was a profound silence at the table and all three looked at each other. Both men had resumed their seats. ‘I guess he raped one debutante too many.’ Howard said softly.

  ‘Or maybe his victims took revenge on him.’ Lucy said coldly, ‘you know the old saying “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”? Well he left a lot of scorned victims behind.’

  Wilfred tried very hard not to squirm at that adage, as he recalled saying exactly that to Harriet Saunders. ‘It is a fitting fate, though. Don’t you think?’ Wilfred said and smiled.

  ‘I did see the notice in The Observer, yesterday….’ Howard started but both men turned to Lucy.

  ‘Oooh!’ Lucy jumped and smoothed a hand over her belly. ‘That was a rather hard kick.’

  ‘Are you all right, Lucy?’ Wilfred asked. ‘You looked rather pale first thing.’

  ‘Your child is kicking me again.’ She said with a frown as she climbed laboriously to her feet and paced across the breakfast parlour. ‘I will be fine.’ She said and smiled for her husband’s worried expression.

  Howard picked up the conversation again. ‘Yes. I saw the obituary in The Observer, but all they said was that he’d died. Maybe his family had decided it was better to be discreet.’

  With a rather large splash, Lucy’s waters
broke and she stood looking down at the huge puddle at her feet in shock. ‘Is that normal?’ she asked calmly as Wilfred rushed to the door and yelled for Connors.

  ‘Yes, My Lord?’ the unshakeable butler took one look at Lucy’s feet and called for a boy to fetch the midwife.

  Wilfred swept his beautiful wife up in his arms and rushed up the stairs to the main suite. By the time he carefully laid Lucy on the bed, Betsy and at least another two housemaids were there to assist and he was chased out of the room. He stood outside on the landing and watched the maids run in and out of the room, with piles of towels, bowls of water and, at long last, the cradle that had been banished to the carriage mews on the orders of Mrs. Hastings. Some old wives tale about not having the baby’s cradle in the house until it was time. He shook his head in wonder and fear as Lucy’s first shouts of pain sounded through the door.

  Eventually Howard collected him, led him back downstairs to the brandy and the waiting began in earnest. Wilfred paced, then he sent a missive to his mother and one to Lucy’s, then he paced again. His family arrived, including the Duke, who made himself comfortable in the study and got on with some work. It wasn’t long before Evelyn Hastings arrived and bustled off upstairs leaving her sons to drink his brandy. Wilfred was surprised to find all four at home. Robert, of course, made a beeline for Caroline and the two secluded themselves in a corner of the drawing room and the company left them alone. Their wedding was due to take place the following week.

  It was some hours later that the Duke came for an update and smiled proudly at his son. ‘You should come in the study and do some work. It will help the time pass.’ He patted Wilfred on the shoulder and steered him into a chair in front of the fire in the study. Wilfred was quiet, but he couldn’t sit for long and was soon pacing in front of his own desk.

  ‘How long was mother in labour?’ Wilfred asked and the Duke could see the trepidation in his son’s face.

  ‘Three days, with you, but less with both the girls. I found it very useful to keep myself busy instead of worrying.’ He sighed deeply. ‘Helena was quick. From first pain to my son being born was less than forty minutes.’