by P. N. Elrod
“We must each do our duty as the King’s loyal subjects, Mr. Nash,” I said. “I just hope that the Crown will be equally generous in recompensing us for our hospitality.”
“As do I, Mr. Barrett.” Since Nash was into collections, not purchases, he was not responsible for paying people for their lost victuals. In any other time or place he’d be hanged as a thief.
“May I count on you to see that we are not ignored?”
“You may place your every confidence in me, sir,” he said heartily. It was a vague enough promise. I trusted him to keep it so long as it did not cause him too great an inconvenience.
“I wanted to consult you about another problem that’s come to my attention, sir,” I continued.
He made an expansive gesture, certain that my complaint would be within his ability to correct, providing a suitable sum of money changed hands.
“As you’ve probably heard from both Dr. Beldon and my father, a young girl was outraged by one of the officers in this area.”
“I think not, Mr. Barrett,” he said, suddenly cool. “His Majesty’s officers are honorable men and not likely to—”
“Listen to me, Nash!” My voice, though low, cut the air between like a sword. The vehemence startled even me, but Nash . . . .
He left his sentence unfinished, mouth agape, and eyes gone wide and dull. I’d had enough of posturing and words with more than one meaning; some of my suppressed anger had broken through and threatened to escape entirely. Now that I had a vessel to pour it into, it was extremely difficult to keep it in check. There was a strong temptation boiling up within to let it free, but that, some instinct told me, would not be a good idea. Nora had once lost her temper while influencing someone, and the resulting shock to the other’s mind had been catastrophic.
The memory of that fearful encounter served to calm me. After a moment or so, I was my own master again and able to speak in a civil manner.
“Nash, I don’t care about the honor of His Majesty’s officers. I want redress and justice for the honor of that poor girl. The bastard who violated her is to be punished in full, and you will see to it. You’ve heard his description, you must know who he is.”
“Yesss . . .” he said faintly.
“Good. Then you won’t waste another minute hunting him down and seeing that you make an example of him for his crime. A public flogging would not be nearly sufficient, but it is a place to start. You’ll drum it into the heads of every one of your men that you will serve double to them. If another outrage happens again, I’m holding you responsible.”
He visibly trembled. That made two of us, but for very different reasons. “I want you to treat this business as though that girl were your own dear daughter, understand?”
Eyes blank, body shaking like a leaf in a gale, and brow streaming sweat, he nodded.
“Then get started.” I looked away until his sharp gasp announced that he’d recovered his senses.
He stood, deathly pale, and his gaze did not quite meet mine. “Y-you must excuse me, Mr. Barrett, but I’ve a most urgent errand to attend to just now.” His hands nervously worked one against the other.
When I took a breath to make a reply, I picked up a sudden tang of scent from him and instinctively knew what it was: fear.
Well-a-day.
This was new.
I could have taken that away from him, but it pleased me that Nash should be afraid.
Of me. It was quite the heady feeling.
In my Latin studies I’d read Machiavelli and made note of his harsh but highly practical recommendation that “it is much safer to be feared than loved,” so I left things as they were. The favorable regard of this one soldier was of little value to me; I could live without it so long as he did what was expected of him: his duty.
“Of course, Lieutenant. I wish you every success,” I muttered to his back as he rushed out.
* * *
Nash collected all the uniformed men in the common room and left, much to the mystification of the remaining folk. I could have gone home then, but was hungry for company. He’d given me a sour belly, and unless I found some distraction, I’d carry the foul taste of his greedy game-playing with me for the rest of what promised to be a long night.
When I emerged in his wake from the private room, questioning eyes focused upon me.
“What ’uz all that about, Mr. Barrett?” someone called. I hesitated.
They ascribed an ominous meaning to that pause. “What is it, sir? Are there rebels about? They go off t’ fight ’em?”
“Rebels? No, nothing like that.” I abruptly saw things from their point of view. Having noted my lengthy talk with Nash and his subsequent hasty exit, they might well assume I’d brought news of an unhappy incursion by members of the rebel forces. “Mr. Nash remembered a duty he’d left undone and went to see about it, that’s all he imparted to me.”
Thus was I able to shrug off further questions. I was unwilling to mention the business about the Bradford girl. The story of her misfortune would carry through the village soon enough.
The coin I’d brought provided the distraction I craved. The price of a few drinks for the other customers guaranteed me all the companionship I could have wished for. Perhaps they weren’t as clever or as sophisticated as the friends I’d left behind at Cambridge, but they were solid as the earth itself and honest enough given the chance. I wondered if any of them had run up against Nash’s genteel squeezing, then firmly put it from my mind. Few of them had any money to speak of, unlike me.
Though repeatedly invited to drink with them, I managed to dodge the honor by a solemn invocation of Beldon’s name.
“He made my arm better, but tells me it’s still mending itself inside. He’s particularly strict about what I’m to eat and drink, but never said I couldn’t enjoy watching others do it for me.”
This brought out an unexpected and extremely ribald comment from Mr. Thayer, an elderly farmer smoking his thin pipe in one corner. What he said and how he said it, combined with the man’s age, doubled us over and inspired more talk along similar lines. Because business was so good, Mr. Farr—who usually did not tolerate much rough speech—ignored us and kept the drink flowing.
The ensuing hours passed quickly and pleasantly for us, perhaps more so for them than for me, as most of the jests were improved by the constant ingestion of ale and gin. I laughed along with most of the talk, though, heard all the gossip, and added my speculations to theirs about the progress of the war, such as it was. For us, it was as good as over now that Howe had chased Washington off the Island.
“He’ll have to hurry to catch him up,” said Mr. Curtis, who had a farm east of the village and was sometimes privy to more recent news than the rest of us. “‘Twill be over soon enough. I heard the whole rebel army was on the run and not planning to stop ’til they reached Connecticut.”
“Good riddance to ‘em,” someone put in. “Connecticut deserves ’em, not us.
“Aye, they do,” added another. “Connecticut, bah!” He spat on the floor.
“If you please, Mr. Davis!” protested Farr, preventing the rest of us from following suit.
Davis grinned and drunkenly apologized. “Think I’ll take m’self ’ome, gen’lmn.” He detached himself from his table and might have fallen flat if Mr. Curtis hadn’t smoothly grabbed the back of his coat.
“You won’t make it home walking on your nose, son,” he observed.
“Reckon I won’t,” said Davis, bent hard over and talking to his shoes.
Since I’d been the direct cause of his drunken state, I thought it only right to see the man to his door. “Come along with you, Mr. Davis. Let’s go look for some fresh air. Good night, all.”
This time I got a hearty response; even Mr. Farr joined in the chorus of goodbyes as I collected Davis and steered him outside.
“No nee
d t’ be such trouble o’r me, Mr. Barrett,” he said.
“It’s no trouble, Mr. Davis.”
Weaving, we made our way across the village square. His house wasn’t distant, and he wasn’t much of a burden. Had I been in a hurry, I could have easily thrown him over one shoulder, but there was no need for haste or to remove what small dignity remained to him. Besides, the evening air we sought was pleasant enough now that the wind had died off. It was still cool—as far as I could tell—and the sky yet had a promise of rain, but later, probably just before dawn.
Any sentries that were about left us alone. It had long since been determined the rebel prisoners had made a clean escape, so Nash’s unpopular curfew had been lifted. The presence of His Majesty’s soldiers in Glenbriar disrupted things mightily, but life was gradually getting back to normal. Much daily business went on as before and, as evidenced by the carousing at The Oak, the nightly business went on as well.
“Very kind of you, ’m sure,” said Davis, mumbling to his shoes again. “ ’M in your debt, sir.”
“Think nothing of it, Mr. Davis. You and your friends have helped restore my faltering faith in the goodness of man’s nature.” He couldn’t have understood one word in five, but it mattered little to me.
“What about the goodness of woman’s nature?” a feminine voice inquired out of nowhere.
I stopped, nearly tripping Davis, who could ill afford a fall. “Who’s there?”
She answered with a giggle, no doubt inspired by my startled tone.
Davis swayed in my arms and threatened to topple over. I peered into the thickly shadowed doorway of the house we were passing. The voice had come from there.
“It’s Molly Audy, if you’re that interested, Mr. Barrett,” she said, stepping clear of her shelter.
We’d had no formal introduction prior to this encounter, but as Glenbriar was such a small place it was no surprise that she knew who I was, and I had certainly seen her before.
Molly earned her bread sewing during the day, and the rest of life’s necessities were earned on her back at night. She was shunned by the ladies of the village, but not to the point that they could oust her from the community altogether. Molly’s behavior and dress were outwardly respectable and modest and she was famous for her discretion, a quality that the men could well appreciate. She’d been the object of much study on my part before I’d been sent off to Cambridge. Study made at a distance, mind you. She was five years older than I, which had seemed a great gulf of age at the time. I’d been far too nervous to approach her then.
Well, a university education and some spare money can do wonders for a young man’s confidence, and though surprised, I was not reduced to stammering an awkward greeting as I might have done three years ago. I wished her a good evening and she returned it to me.
“Looks like your friend’s had too much. Need some help?” She glided toward us, eyes bright and a smile hovering just behind them. As she came closer, the smile burst forth. I recognized bold invitation in it. Directed at me.
Well-a-day, indeed.
Davis abruptly turned into a damned nuisance.
“No, uh—that is, yes! I certainly could use some assistance, Miss Audy. I’m not sure to which house he belongs.” Oh, dear, but lust does make easy liars of us all.
Molly’s raised eyebrows said that she was aware of the lie, but was willing to overlook it while letting me know she was doing just that. She had a remarkable range of expression, I noted.
“It’s not far, just come along with me, sir.”
At a faster pace than before, I all but dragged Davis along as Molly led the way. She unerringly found and pushed open a door to yet another darkened structure. I had little desire to linger in my surroundings and stayed just long enough to drop Davis into a chair before following Molly out again.
“Will he be all right, you think?” she asked.
“I’m sure of it,” I said as concern for Davis fairly galloped from my mind. “A good night’s sleep is what he wants.”
She giggled again. “Don’t we all?”
I swept my hat off and bowed, which brought forth another giggle. “I’m deeply in debt for your help, Miss Audy. May I repay you in some small way by escorting safely you home?”
She slipped an arm into mine. “La, Mr. Barrett, but I do like the way you talk.”
“I’ll be more than happy to continue for as long as you find it entertaining.”
“Then maybe you can tell me what you think about ‘the goodness of women.’ ”
“On that subject, I’m sure to be quite eloquent, given the proper inspiration.”
We returned to her dark doorway, and she drew me first inside her house and then inside the reach of her arms. I bent down to give her a proper kiss and got a gratifying response.
“Such a big, strong fellow you are,” she said, hands kneading away at my shoulders.
“And you are quite the beautiful lady.”
“I try my best, though times are hard, especially when one is alone in the world . . . .”
Instantly taking the hint, I groped for my money purse and we paused a moment to work out the mundane details of payment for services about to be rendered. Once business was out of the way, we resumed more intimate explorations. Molly, I discovered, enjoyed her work.
“Come back this way, Johnny-boy,” she cooed, slipping her fingers into the waist of my breeches and pulling me along.
To her bedroom, it happily turned out.
She threw the coverlet to one side and made me sit on the bed. A single candle burned in a holder set in a bowl of water on one table. The room was small but orderly, not that I cared much for her skills at housekeeping. She had other, much more fascinating skills to hold my attention.
Like undressing herself.
One by one, she undid the hooks holding the front of her bodice together, playfully slapping my hand away when I offered to help. I gave up, lay back on my elbows and watched. Free of the bodice, she put it on a chair and next attacked her wide skirts, petticoats and other complications I couldn’t begin to name. It took her some little time, but she finally worked her way down to her corset and shift. She retained her shoes and white silk stockings. I found her red garters to be particularly charming and said as much. For my benefit, she pulled a chair close and put one foot upon it, allowing me to make a closer examination not only of the garter, but the shapely leg it encircled. The lower part of the shift quite naturally fell back a bit owing to this change of position, gifting me with the chance to further my studies.
This time Molly made no objection when I offered assistance in the matter of undoing lacings.
“You’ve done this before, my lad, haven’t you?” she observed.
Oh, yes, but Nora was in England and Molly was here. I zealously plucked at the bow and loosened one loop after another.
“Ah, that does feel good,” she said when I got the thing off. Understanding that she’d found its confines restricting, I did my best to help restore circulation to her upper body. Perhaps I was a bit too vigorous as she seemed to lose her balance and fell atop me onto the bed. But she was laughing, a laugh that I smothered as I pulled her mouth down to meet mine.
“Your turn,” she softly announced a few active minutes later. One-handed, she discovered the buttons on one side of my breeches and began to undo them.
“Not yet.” I was too busy trying to get her shift off to worry about my own clothes. The garment finally flew up over her head, and I dragged her close again and kept her fully occupied for awhile.
“Fair’s fair, love,” she protested. “I’ve a mind to see those muscles I been feeling.” She teased open my neck cloth and began a fast assault on my waistcoat buttons, then my shirt. She was not, I was happy to see, disappointed with what lay beneath. “Now for the best part . . . .” Her hand wandered down to my breeches again.
I caught it and brought it up to my lips for a kiss, then returned to her mouth.
It’s different, I thought. Decidedly different than before.
Instead of a grand stirring of pleasure confined between my legs, I was stirred up, as it were, throughout all my body. It had never been this intense before. My God, if I felt like this now, what would our consummation be like?
There’s one way to find out, Johnny-boy.
We rolled and tossed about in a most energetic and pleasing way until Molly grew feverish and was impatient for me to finish things off. She eventually got my breeches off, but I understood now that their presence or absence would make little difference as to how this event concluded for either of us. However, it was a delight to oblige her in the normal way of things, and by God she was certainly ready for me to effect a triumphal entry.
She thrashed under me, breathless and calling for me to press things more vigorously. I did so, but had worked up to the point of wanting release myself, but in a most different manner than she could have ever known before. Toward that end I sought out the wildly beating pulse in her taut throat and firmly ran my tongue over her smooth skin.
“Yes,” she whispered, with a sudden shiver.
Teeth and tongue working together, I bit into her neck. Her nails, in turn, bit into my back and her whole body surged up against mine. I knew what Molly was going through, having received this kind of kiss myself. Nora had taught me to appreciate every second and to crave the next. With care, the ecstasy could be drawn out indefinitely.
The red fire of Molly’s blood drifted into my mouth a drop at a time, to be savored like the rarest of nectars. She shuddered and moaned and moved under me in such a way as to invite me to drink more deeply from her. The temptation was there; I’d never tasted anything so sweet, so perfect.
