Sarah chose Mr D’eath as her benefactor. “Mr D’eath, I have yet to experience travel abroad, but after hearing such tales, I am now convinced that I shall not sleep for dreaming of such wonders.”
“Why, my dear, you are a beautiful young lady, and I should not forgive myself for your loss of sleep. Come, I have many more accounts if you are interested?”
Sarah became Mr D’eath’s focus. The child displayed an eager intellect and had an appetite for enlightenment.
As the night progressed, Laura withdrew from the general company, observing the gathering in relative isolation. Her wistful frame of mind was attributable, in part, to the Madeira she had sampled. However, her serenity did not endure. Lord Henry was attentive and by her side.
“My Lord!” Startled by his Lordships sudden appearance, what remained of Laura’s drink leapt about in her glass.
“May I extend my compliments, ma’am, on your appearance. I can state with some accuracy that you would be perceived as a rival in any of society’s social circles,” Lord Henry said, as he pursued Laura’s eyes committing them to his.
“Thank you, my Lord. While I am bound by courtesy to accept your civility, I am afraid you do me no favours.”
“Pray inform me, what woman is not keen to hear praise on her appearance?”
“Do you not think, sir, that it is rather pitiable that we judge a woman solely on her beauty?”
Lord Henry tried to categorise the woman but could not. Instead, he provoked her further.
“Madam, you do me a great injustice. Surely the obligation to charm is at the very centre of a gentleman’s structure, and to dispute a man’s right to express those beliefs is an extremely harsh conclusion.”
Laura immediately regretted the severity of her response and set about correcting her error.
“My Lord, please believe me when I declare that I had no intention of offending your honour. My statement was made in ignorance, and I must sincerely apologise for ever bringing your conduct into question.”
Laura’s explanation at an end, Lord Henry recognised a familiar feel to the situation. He smiled an enthusiastic smile, as it dawned on him that he actually liked this whippet of a woman who disregarded his title and vowed to be unimpressed by his flattering approval. Remarkably, rather than annoy him, her rejection aroused his interest further.
“If you are sincere, then you are indeed a rarity among women. I know of no other that does not crave the praises of men or solicit the stolen, hateful glances of other beautiful woman. But tell me, for I am eager to know more, how is a woman to acquire her contentment if not fed by the compliments of men?”
“Your question is effortless to answer, my Lord. I judge you based on your thoughts and actions, therefore why would I not grant myself the same consideration?”
Lord Henry enjoyed Laura’s banter but recognised that he could not remain in her company for long. She was an intelligent woman and would eventually guess his true design. Laura guaranteed far more than he had originally envisaged. He let go of his contrived outcome for this night’s work, conscious that an opportunity would not present itself.
“I trust then that your radiance comes from an evening of pleasantries and meets with your approval, ma’am?”
Laura’s countenance lifted. “Yes everything is exactly as you say, but your charity serves to remind me of my unworthy comments. You find me grateful for an opportunity that shall be commended in memory.”
Lord Henry visibly relaxed. He had regained Laura’s confidence. “Then I too am delighted. I shall withdraw from your company assured by the knowledge that I have completed my responsibilities and you have benefited by them.”
With the slight nod of his head, Lord Henry indicated that this particular conversation was at an end. He performed a curt bow before stepping the width of the chamber to centre his attention on Sarah.
Alone, Laura relaxed. A wave of relief coursed through her body. She put her misgivings about Lord Henry down to nerves or the like, his title alone giving her grounds for disquiet.
Laura observed his Lordship, as he conversed with Sarah. Sarah appeared animated and conversed freely with him. Obviously, Sarah felt none of the unease that Laura had experienced in his company.
Lord Henry had always conducted himself as a gentleman, supported by the fact that he upheld his worth as Master of the house. Laura made a pledge. She could admire the man if she tried, and she would try.
At the close of the evening's festivities, Laura retired to her room to dream of far away places, her mind ready to release the animated pictures that she had stored. But first, she eased her propensity to write.
“The Master’s return, to take over of the running of the estate, has filled the entire household with an excitement that seems hardly contained.
Tonight presented wonderful opportunities to converse about topics that filled my thoughts with flights of fancy.
Of the Master, I constantly try to dismiss my feelings. However, I have to admit that I still have reservations as to his character. And yet, I must remind myself that it is not a servant’s place to judge.
Sarah has blossomed into a young woman with many graces, but I constantly worry about our situation and that she may never be granted the opportunities she craves. I hope to guide her through what may be disappointment ahead.
I expect everything will revert to normal once the household adjusts to the Master’s return.
Lord Henry appears suited to his position, and if he proves to be anything like his mother, then he is assured of success. There is talk that his fiancée will join us for the summer, a future daughter-in-law with whom her Ladyship is keen to develop an alliance.”
#
Later that night, when chamber doors closed to grant their occupants’ privacy, a secret intrigue came to life. Mr D’eath, while a man proficient in his work, lacked social etiquette when it came to women. He also had laziness to add to his general demeanour, loathing the work involved in the intricate game of courtship. Not that he had an aversion to sex, his manliness twitched at the merest thought of bedding a wench of any age or colour. He appreciated the basic act of intercourse and this girl was every bit as good.
Mr D’eath’s small puffy hand reached down to gorge on the girl’s exposed breast before groping for her nipple, squeezing the object unmercifully between two stubby fingers. A low groan discharged as he completed the violation, the grunting similar to that of a mating animal.
Mr D’eath could be summarised as a pig, a rather large one at that, boorish, boastful and a deviant. Sarah wagered that his sidekick would have joined them but she could not have guaranteed who would have had sex with whom, and she did not take second place to anyone.
Why Mr D’eath assumed the role of her lover, even Sarah found hard to explain. She secured her satisfaction in a sick, warped sense whenever a man succumbed to her charms.
And as Sarah went about her pursuit of self-gratification, she never stopped to think that in conquering the man, she had defeated herself.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - Miss Emily
Many regarded Miss Emily Parkinson as mature for her age. At nineteen years, fair in beauty and grace, she was the perfect illustration of a young lady ready to take her place in society.
Miss Emily entered the premises wrapped in the confidence of one born to triumph and with the insolence of the rich. Her grooming and deportment spoke volumes.
“Maid, mind my hat or you will be worse for wear – do you hear me, girl!” The shrill voice that ushered the threatening decree contrasted with the elegant features.
“Come, come, my dear,” a soothing, male voice replied. “If anything should happen to your hat, I will make sure you have five to replace it.”
“You are gallant, Sir Trent. I shall hold you to your promise if the wench is incompetent and perhaps claim some additional payment for my pains.” The look the velvet blue eyes portrayed left none in doubt as to their hidden meaning.
Miss Emily’
s entrance spearheaded the invasion of twenty newcomers. The timing had been carefully planned to permit the betrothed couple a window of intimacy before the main entourage arrived over the coming days.
Lord Henry, though content with his mother’s choice of a wife, had to admit that he scarcely knew Emily. However, she came equipped with sufficient beauty that he would not find the task distasteful.
Over a period of a week, carriages rolled up to the main entrance of Marlbrook. The conveyances delivered guests, their personal servants, and large quantities of luggage that emerged from seemingly confined spaces.
Banter echoed throughout the upper and lower landings, fragmented only on occasion by sporadic bursts of laughter. The majority of the visitors would reside the summer and stay the two months to September.
Social events had been perfected, organised to keep the new arrivals amused and out of trouble.
“Emily dearest, that man of yours is rather dashing. If you were not betrothed, I should be tempted to sample him myself.”
“You were born wicked and shall die so, Alexander. Ask me again after I am wed. If the man should prove a disappointment in bed then you may have him,” replied Emily, in her sweetest of voices.
With their Lord and heir committed to marriage, Marlbrook had reason to celebrate and would entertain in grandeur for the first time in five years - the culmination of the festivities, a ball.
Life for Laura had taken on a slightly exhausting tinge. With forty additional mouths to feed, including the extra servants, her workload left limited room for pleasantries. Fatigue and she were a team. Still, she benefited from the positive side to exhaustion - a sound sleep and freedom from regret and straying thoughts.
#
Lady Catherine waited impatiently for the meeting hour, the scheduled rendezvous extremely important for both sides. She and Emily, as her future daughter-in-law, would gauge the calibre of each other, with one looking to impart wisdom and one, if wise, seeking to learn.
The morning passed swiftly for Laura. Mulling over the multitude of menus was a tedious chore, but Lady Catherine made a great partner in a crisis, with her Ladyship clearly the one in control. The coming weeks would be chaotic if their preparation failed.
At precisely ten o’clock, the expected knock arrived on Lady Catherine’s chamber door. Laura recognised her cue to exit. With her papers balanced precariously in one hand, she opened the portal to Miss Emily. Laura performed a curtsy under pressure, knowing that a just a slight miscalculation and either she or her insecure stack would end up on the floor. Happily, the manoeuvre went without mishap.
Two equally beautiful sets of eyes collided and acceptance took place. The dislike would be mutual.
Miss Emily would never stoop so low as to perceive a servant a threat, but her mother had raised her in a pragmatic fashion and she made a mental note to watch this one. After all, her soon-to-be husband was a man and while she had no care as to his whoring, she would not tolerate it under her roof.
Lady Catherine did not miss the momentary skirmish, well aware of the thoughts that provoked Emily. Emily was a sensible girl who held no fanciful notions about her forthcoming marriage - a business arrangement struck with excellent terms.
Miss Emily was blessed with an external loveliness accompanied by self-regard, but she possessed neither integrity nor personality. As a mother, Lady Catherine knew her son and accepted his faults. To have selected a woman who might one day love Henry could only lead to sorrow and regret. Besides, an unrequited love might endanger her chances of securing grandchildren. An unseemly situation had been avoided - it was better this way.
“I take it that you find your new home to your liking?” Lady Catherine asked, while seated in her favourite fireside chair.
“Ma’am,” Miss Emily replied, with equal reserve, “it would be a very foolish woman who did not recognise the beauty and appeal of such regal surroundings.”
“Good. Marlbrook demands a great deal of care, but the returns are worth the effort. It is my sincere hope that you come to love the place as we all do.”
Miss Emily produced a sweet, insincere smile. She did not answer Lady Catherine. She knew her future mother-in-law would detect a lie.
CHAPTER NINETEEN - Remorse
Sarah, to Laura’s ongoing consternation, continued to present a problem.
“Sarah, how can you possibly be offended by Miss Emily choosing you as her companion?”
“Because I have no wish to spend the rest of my life serving a selfish woman who is only a year or so older than myself.”
“You know you have no choice, Sarah. Lady Catherine has already granted Miss Emily her wish.”
“I am not a chattel to be passed from one person to another.”
Laura understood Sarah’s concerns, but she also accepted the reality of their situation.
“The choice is yours, Sarah, and working for a young mistress will present difficulties. After all, the winter season will require her in attendance in London for much of the year, which means parting from Marlbrook.”
Sarah reacted positively, exactly as Laura had expected. Laura breathed a sign of relief. The loss of their positions due to one of Sarah’s tantrums had been avoided.
The days were long but the hours were not tedious. Laughter resounded throughout the estate, occurring as one frenzied activity completed its run and another was embarked upon. No great disasters transpired, and aside from their first encounter, Laura appeared unworthy of any further attention from Miss Emily.
The majority of the elite group had youth on their side, and all were well versed with pampering and luxury. The women, on this particular evening, had long since gone away to their beds, the remainder of the night left at the mercy of the men. The promise of port, along with the prospect of a win at cards, was an adequate adhesive to bind the men to their seats.
As the hour grew late, Laura decided to retire the remaining staff; tomorrow would be another lengthy exercise. She would stay within range of the bell to satisfy any late calls for refreshments.
At two o’clock in the morning, with just a few gentlemen still at large, Laura made her final rounds of the house. Beginning at the maids’ quarters, located at the top of the house, she would wind her way back to her apartment, past the other servants’ chambers.
Laura navigated the maze of corridors and found only one anomaly, Molly’s room. A peep of light slithered out from under a firmly closed door, inferring that something might not be as it should. Molly, Laura concluded, had probably fallen asleep, and a forgotten candle held danger for them all. She tapped lightly before trying the handle.
The man stood by Molly’s bed, his overweight frame blocking Laura’s path. The mature gentleman, although Laura used the term “gentleman” lightly, glared at her with the vacant stare that excessive drink brings.
The man’s shirt lay open to his waist. Barren of hair, his luminous skin contrasted with the dark hue of his jacket, the disparity painting a ludicrous picture. His open pant buttons revealed off-white undergarments.
Molly, a petite girl of about fifteen years of age, had been blessed with an abundance of carrot-coloured curls, the bright mass going untamed by the night-cap adorning them. Her lips appeared artificial; such was the intensity of the colour red.
Laura thought Molly looked like a small child huddled beneath her sheets; the young girl attempting to fend off her would be assailant.
“Sir!” Laura cried. “It appears that you are mistaken in the location of your apartment, and if you would be so kind as to follow me, I will show you where your proper course lies.”
The would-be assailant furnished Laura with a look of contempt, but she ignored his stare and continued.
“Perhaps you prefer to be escorted to where Lord Henry is stationed?”
“Get out, you stupid woman, unless of course you want to join us?”
Under the circumstances the man’s ugly sneer, rather than pose a threat, appeared foolish.
He dismissed Laura. “Be gone with you. Can you not see that I am occupied?”
Molly intervened. “Please miss, please leave – you’ll get us both fired if you don’t and me marm ’ill kill me if’n I lose my job.” Molly uttered the quivering offer of sacrifice with an air of resignation.
“I won’t be long, Molly, do you hear me?” Laura called. “I am going to get help.”
Laura tossed weariness aside. Her steps were taken at pace leaving her panting for air by the time she reached Lord Henry. She hesitated, fully aware that he would not be alone. Voices penetrated the walls.
“Henry, you were always prone to being a rogue.” The laughter was shared.
Lord Henry replied. “I pretend not, my dear friend, but I suggest that it may be your skill that is suspect. Perhaps your talents are better aimed at the women rather than trying your hand at cards.”
Drink moistened their tongues, loosening them on the night. When the knock arrived on the door, announcing their unexpected caller, jovial pleasantries erupted. Lord Henry, by unanimous vote, accepted the allotted rank of door opener.
Precious seconds ticked by, and a natural drug seemed to enhance Laura’s being. When the door opened, Laura sprang into action. She clutched at Lord Henry’s hand and began dragging him in the direction of the stairs.
The pair had barely covered any distance when Lord Henry pulled Laura to a compulsory stop.
Laura’s breath was laboured. “Indulge me, sir. A crisis has arisen that demands your assistance.” Uncontrollable shaking ran the entire length of Laura’s body.
Lord Henry again called a halt to her movements. “Whoa, madam, whoa I say!”
Lord Henry’s lack of action annoyed Laura. Clearly the man did not sense the urgency of the matter. She made another attempt to press on but again Lord Henry held her back.
A silly grin crossed Lord Henry’s lips, a precursor to his ill-directed remarks.
Journey's End (Marlbrook) Page 8
