Lord Rothbury dresses as a Servant and, well, it gets complicated
CoMiss Brabbingers downfall.
Lord Rothby looked disconsolately into his tankard of mead as the fool told the same old joke once more while the zither man slurped ale from his tankard and the Landlord at the Frothby Duck at Langley bemoaned that the Canal was now complete and his best customers the Navigators or Navvys had moved on.
The Landlords daughter seemed comely enough, even though he had barely sipped his mead and on an impulse he called her over.
"Shall you wake with me for two silver shillings" he asked quietly.
"Fine Gentleman like you sir, t'would be my pleasure." she answered.
Yes and a brat would doubtless appear nine months hence with an earnest appeal for alms, he mused, "My room mid night" he whispered as he handed across the coins.
He winked at Claridge, his manservant, "Comely enough?" he asked and Claridge bowed slightly.
Claridge was perplexed, he had been schooled in the ways of a Gentleman's Gentleman, yet his new employer seemed loth to avail himself, indeed since he had taken employ with his Lordship he had never performed even one service, while neither did his employer give the slightest hint that service was due, indeed Claridge had hitherto been banished to the servants quarters far from his proper position in the Masters bed chamber.
"Have a wench sent up that we may allay suspicions " Claridge suggested when but one bed chamber was all that the Inn availed, and so Rothby had agreed a wench should be sought.
Their journey had been long and tiring, the Canal boat though dubbed "Express" might more properly have been called "Pedestrian" or even "Slugg," from the pedestrian progress it availed as the Bargee allowed his beast to amble as slow as it liked along the tow path grazing and dining on black berries as it proceeded ever northwards, and now they rested at Canal's temporary end, their way blocked by the Danescombe estate the property of Major General Brabbinger, who stubbornly refused to sell a way-leave.
Rothby was infuriated by the Major General's intransigence, his agent Morkins, had invested heavily in Canal Stock and with the Danescombe block of some five miles un-started when all the other lengths of the Canal stood ready and brimmed with water, he knew the investment would soon be worthless.
So angry had he been on receipt of the note from London that he had at once resigned his commission and sought passage home forthwith from his garrison home in Jamaica, travelling in the "Javeling" a vessel as unlike a Javelin as one could conceive a vessel held together by the entwined bodies of shipworm, too old to even carry sheep and on passage to Greenwich for breaking up.
Rothby had no stomach for the sea, yet every cry for "All hands on deck" had seen him rush for the well deck to lend a hand, shinning up the rigging or lending a hand at the pumps, "Sire, tis for common men not Lords to toil" the Captain had chided.
"Well , we'll all die together so we may as well toil together," Rothby had declared.
Yet the toil had taken it's toll, soldiering, and shipwork, his Lordship had the rugged look and coarse hands now of a labourer and without his rich garments would indeed have never been considered a member of polite society."Landlord, your finest Scottish Wine" Rothby shouted.
The fool stopped telling his joke, the Constable woke briefly and as the Landlords dog yelped so the Landlord grabbed wildly at a bottle labelled "Bels Scotch Wiskhy" and rushed to present it to Rothby.
"First, that is not Scottish wine, I well know that Lord Attercliffe's game keeper distills that in Danbury Cover," Rothby averred, "You pay him one shilling bottle, so here's a half crown and give everyone a drink till the bottle be empty!" the Lord spoke loud enough so all might hear and set the half-crown down on the counter,as the yokels rushed to charge their glasses.
Rothby took himself off from the conviviality of the drink den at the Inn, and proceeded to his room where after a brief survey and laying aside his rich tunic and collecting his towels he made his way out of the window, down a drain-pipe and along the gravelled path to the canal, where in the moonlight he stripped off his fine clothes and dived into the cool waters and swam easily until all the filth of the day was cleansed and thereafter he dried himself and returned to the Inn.
He was barely returned when there was a knock at the door, Claridge was in his undershirt folding Rothby's Tunic when Molly the Landlords daughter, arrived.
"Where do you want me sir," she said to Claridge mistaking him for Rothby.
"My master will wish to inspect the goods Madam, pray expose your charms." Rothby ordered.
"Quite so!" said Claridge in a ridiculously pompous voice, and so Molly pulled her old patched ill fitting gown over her head and showed her well worn intimacies, her lower lips swollen with the constansy of pounded entries, her breasts already sagged, and her hairs crudely scraped away.
Rothby examined her carefully, "Use a skin, I advise sir, she may carry the Cock Rot." he advised Claridge in as coarse an accent as he could devise.
"Ooh ent you got lovely hands," Molly exclaimed, as Claridge approached her, "You toffs always smell lovely,"
Claridge was perplexed, all his training suggested he should serve nis master but here he was to serve his masters wench, he peered at her swollen parts and realised his own parts were swelling. "The skins are on the side-board sire" Rothby advised, "Feel safe sir, I shall be right here to stifle any tricks."
Claridge took the skin, normally his duties were to clean the skins and then blow them like a balloon to check for rents but now he found himself sliding a skin onto his member.
Molly was lying abed, her brown feet now out of her clogs and the tide line of filth up to her ankles clear displayed, as Claridge approached, it seemed so strange that the woman was on her back when all his training he had to service gentlemen as they bent over.
He brought the tip of the skin to the entry to her womb and pressed gently and suddenly he was engulfed by the warm soft willing folds of her privacy and he found heaven.
He gasped and grunted and pistoned in a very acceptable manner, thought Rothby, fully up to regimental standards, although the climate in Jamaica was more conducive to the art and practice of love he would admit, and he patiently awaited his turn.
"That was entirely acceptable, wench" Claridge announced as he withdrew," pray allow my Valet to mount you."
"Do I have to?" Molly asked, "with his coarse hands and ruddy features, it will spoil the evening sir, and you were so exquisite with your love sir, pray rest and take me to heaven again, sir."
"I am repulsive to you Madam?" Rothby asked.
"No offence but you're a workman not a proper Valet, ent you, I don't want your type in me baby box do I?" she replied.
Rothby was stunned, but he realised it was true, Claridge looked far more the nobleman than he, and seeing Claridge's bedding set ready against the wall he lay down on it and watched as Molly engulfed Claridge's member within her mouth as she strove to reinvigorate it.
Rothby woke with the dawn, Claridge was naked upon the bed with a naked Molly sleeping quietly, and Rothby quietly sought his working clothes he had kept from the "Javeling" and dressed in them he slipped away through the window to the Canal.
The difference was obvious, at the wharf he went unrecognised, some women ignored him, some looked curious, but none curtsied, and one cursed him.
He walked on oblivious to an approaching menace "Arrogant oaf, out of my way!" A carriage and pair driven with spirit and recklessness by a girl with fire in her green eyes and her black hair flowing like a mane bore down upon him while beside the employed driver sat impotently as she held the reins.
Rothby leapt forward and as they went to pass he grasped the pair by their bridles forcing them to halt abruptly and the girl fell forward to land in the dust in an ungainly heap.
"Call the Constable!" She cried as Rothby went to help her "Unhand me you brute."
Her white dress was soiled and torn and Rothby saw the length of her leg to the thigh up within her voluminous skirts, and the coquettish rise to the heel of her sandal.
"Father call your Constable." she snapped.
"He won't thank you, he overindulged the past night on Lord Rothbys largess with the distilled spirits." Rothby quipped to a titter of laughter .
"For heavens sake girl, you were at fault." Major Brabbinger exclaimed from the back seat of the open carriage, and addressing himself to Rothby he added, "You should remember that when Miss Sophia Brabbinger takes to the road all others are well advised to stand and watch! Now unhand my girl and give your name and business."
"Dummer, leading rate of the Javeling, sir," Rothby lied, "Here on Lord Rothby's business."
"Barge hand eh? you're mighty cocky for a barge hand?" the Major exclaimed.
"Inward bound from Trinidad sir, she's no barge sir, she's the" Rothby couldn't binng himself to say finest, "Ah she's a ship, sir."
"I shall send the remittance for a new dress to Lord Rothby." the girl snapped.
"Don't fuss Sophia," ordered the Major, "Rothby hates us sufficiently already."
Rothby watched as Sophia glared at him as she fought to regain control of the matched pair of Dun geldings and then with a flash of a whip they were gone. Rothby stared after the carriage until distracted by a womans’ titters, "Exciting ain't she, out o'your league though!" she chortled, and Rothby realised that not only did he have a huge erection but that his thin breeches made his predicament clear to all!
Claridge was waiting when Rothby climbed back through the window and into their room, "I'm sorry sir, I must resign my post forthwith." he explained, "I am not cut out for the life of a Gentleman's Gentleman and last night confirmed my misgivings, to be blunt sir, I prefer the pleasures of the female and can no longer."
"Hey!", what is this, I need a Batman, " said Rothby, "someone to keep my things in order, what's all this about pleasures of the flesh?"
"Did you aspire to employ a travelling butler?" asked Claridge, "merely that?"
"Certainly, what did you think?" Rothby enquired.
"A bed mate sir." Claridge explained.
"And you refuse to consort with me Carnally?" Rothby asked incredulously.
"That's it sire, in a nutshell." Claridge affirmed.
"Well thank god for that," said Rothby "Mother must have thought I had become a sodomite when she procured you from the agency, but such I am not and if you are willing to be my, well, Batman, and companion we shall get along famously I'm sure."
Claridge took Rothby's outstretched hand and the set a seal on their new friendship.
Rothby quickly asked Claridge to do a service, "Will you pass yourself of as me when we see the Major, only I had to pretend to be Dullard of the Javelling."
"Dullard, how un-imaginative," Claridge asserted, "but yes I shall be the mighty Lord and you my Dullard servant for as long as you wish.
And so as they left the Frothby Duck, it was Claridge who wore the rich Tunic and Rothby who carried their voluminous bags.
They hired horses and set sail for their interview at Danescombe house. The Major General was riding and they waited in the front Parlour as the silly maids in their grey uniforms with white aprons tittered and swooned over Claridge while ignoring Rothby.
Soon enough Adlington the Butler announcer "The Major, I mean, Major General Brabbinger will see you now sir, your servant may wait here."
"Gosh, oh no, Dullard must come too, he can write you know!" Claridge insisted.
"The Major?" Rothby queried in his Dullard voice.
"Family joke sir, nothing more," said Adlington, "It makes the Major feel young being called Major rather than the title General he is entitled to."
The Major General sat at his desk while Sophia paced up and down impatiently.
"So," she said, "How much are you offering today." she glared at Rothby, "because after yesterday it's not enough."
"Gel needs a Husband," the Major explained, "Mother's gone poor girl."
"To Sidenham, with Monsieur Le Carr, she's not dead," said Sophia resignedly.
"Are you betrothed Lord Rothby?" asked the Major.
"No not yet" Claridge replied.
"Oldest of three girls, twenty one and never been kissed, can't offload the pretty ones till this ones flown the nest." the Major Joked.
"You need me here, your useless on your own father." Sophia opined, "And what do you mean can't off load the pretty ones?"
"Well I can scarce believe they outshine Miss Brabbinger sir" said Claridge in his best imitation of Rothby's accent.
"They shine like the stars of heaven sir," Sophia explained," they spend every waking moment preening and endlessly fiddling and meddling with make-up and."
"Sophia" said the Major, "Watch your tongue."
"Sorry father," Sophia said quietly, "But really Adele and Francine are as much use as Peacocks, and."
"Sophia, enough," The Major snapped.
Rothby looked at Sophia, as she raged, her eyes afire once more with hidden passion, and once more Rothby felt his manhood stirring, he shuffled and with discretion arranged his attire afresh such that his predicament was disguised.
"So sir to work, and what pray is your position on the way-leave." Claridge enquired.
"Heavens man you waste no time, and the answer is No!" the Major snorted.
"A flat irrefutable No!" said Claridge in surprise..
"Yes, a No, flat No, No never." said Sophia.
"Sophia please, show some decorum," the Major insisted.
"Very well then, ten thousand, thousand guineas." Sophia snapped.
"I fear your daughter is perhaps unworldly when sums of money are discussed," Claridge suggested, "perhaps ten thousand might be a starting point?"
"Yes father why not grasp this pittance, and make a condition that the blackguard marries me as a token of your extreme gratitude." Sophia exclaimed.
"Madam, there is a small matter of rank, and indeed the matter of my mother so I fear I must decline your kind offer." Claridge simpered, "But Ten Thousand is the sum I have in my mind."
"Then away to your cohorts and tell them there is no agreement to be made." the Major insisted, "I bid you good day."
Rothby bowed low and followed Claridge deferentially from the room, but Adlington the Butler waylaid them, "Please take refreshment with us before your journey, the Misses Brabinger await upon you in the Sitting room my Lord and your servant will be very welcome in our humble pantry.
So it was that whilst Claridge made small-talk with the younger Misses Brabbinger so Rothby was sent through the labrynthine passages of Danescombe House to the servants pantry and there he once again met Miss Sophia.
Rokeby was enjoying a roasted chicken wing when Miss Brabbinger happened upon him, "My father said be gone you hireling, so be gone and leave our food alone." she ordered.
"The Butler said" Rothby said before Sophia cried.
"Enough, go before you feel the kiss of my whip," Rothby saw her take the whip down from the shelf and watched in disbelief as she tried to strike him, it was as if in slow motion that he saw and then grasped, the wicked thin leather strips before they could strike him and in that instant he pulled her off her balance.
Sophia sprawled awkwardly as she fell to find her self legs spread and slipping on the flag stones as she slipped and slowly fell.
Rothby never knew what possessed him but in the instant of her helplessness he leapt upon her, at first in a gesture of proffered assistance and then as her skirts rode up another far less noble intent became fixed in his mind.
They were alone, Rothby could neither see nor hear a single soul and his manhood was again straining in unrelieved frustration, "Don't you dare look at me like that." Sophia said unaware of her imminent danger, but Rothby was not to be dissuaded.
"What's wrong with you?" Sophia asked, as Rothby's hands seized the hems of her skirts and underskirts and raised them hurriedly to her face, he peered with amazement at both her plethora of underskirts and her lack of pantaloons or anything to hide her modesty now she was laid on her back with her skirts raised.
Her most private places were now exposed to his view and such was his need and desire that in a moment of madness he started to unleash his breeches and unbuckle his belt.
It seemed to them that hours passed but in truth it was but seconds and no sooner had Sophia gazed upon Rothby's manhood than he advanced it towards her hairy softness, she realised too late that what he intended and as the hours seemingly passed so he advanced towards her.
She sprawled immobile as an Egyptian mummy as Rothby advanced, her skirts up to her chin as she stared at Rothby's broad shouldered and well muscled torso advancing towards her his manhood rampant and a shudder of dread passed right through her, and she felt her innermost parts become damp, in a way she failed to understand.
The scream died on her lips as she felt the firm rounded tip of his penis brush and then slip between the lips leading to her womb and then as his strong arms crushed her breasts against the mass of her skirts and his muscular chest she felt a sudden sharp pain and before she could cry out he had forced his manliness deep inside her, impossibly deep so deep she thought herself mortally wounded, three more times he thrust and then he grunted and she felt the dread wetness of her blood seeping and oozing from her torn insides.
She stared in complete incomprehension, her life suddenly ruined, the route of marriage to a suitable Gentleman seemingly barred with the loss of her innocence, yet the moment so brutal and sharp that she may as well be stabbed by a sword or dagger as lanced by seven inches of servantile musculature.
Not a word was spoken, neither knew what to say as they separated, both dazed at the speed and violence of what had transpired, she fearful of her terrible injuries as the red blood mingled with the clear fluids from her destroyed innards as she thought his copious ejaculate might be.
Rothby in turn was shocked at his reaction, the girl was available to him for but the briefest moment yet for not one instant could he resist her and yet once sheathed he had exploded his passion deep inside her, thoughtless of the consequences, thoughtless that she should have at least consented and they used a skin of some kind, but now it was done and just the memory of such brief perfection remained.
"I shall have you whipped, hung, drawn, quartered and eaten by crows," she hissed, "your life is forfeit, fall on your dagger and save some shred of dignity." she whispered finally, and with a rustle of falling under-skirts she was gone.
Rothby wiped his snake on the Table-Cloth in the servants Pantry, pulled up his breeches, and finished his chicken wing, he regretted his precipitate actions, he should have undressed her to resolve the riddle of her breasts, he needed to taste her lips, feel her hair against his cheek, seek out the secret places that might make her scream with passion and above all take the time to pleasure her properly, and not for a fleeting instant did he consider her to be anything other than a willing partner to their liaison.
Sophia too reflected on what passed, she knew from others the terrors of the marriage bed, the terrible pain, the bleeding, and the humiliation, with her mother departed all manner of friends and aunts had regaled her with the terrors of conjugality, yet for all its brutality she felt stronger, she had conquered her fear of marriage, even as her life blood drained down her thigh she realised with a drunken husband on the wedding night she could perhaps keep her shame a secret, and had she not this morning met a suitable catch, one who might be persuaded, blackmailed even, into marriage?
The thoughts raced through her mind, even as she wiped herself in her bed chamber, the blood had stopped and also the clear discharge and she realised she would not die.
Quickly she rushed downstairs and found her father.
"Father, if you really wish to see Francine and Adele married and to that I am an impediment, I do own to an admiration for Lord Rothby's estate." she said quietly as she cornered the Major General in his study.
"But not the man eh" he said, "It's your mother coming out in you, I saw the way you looked at the servant,, it would take but an." he paused as a tear came, "Oh Sophia, you didn't did you, a stolen kiss, that's how your mother started, a stolen kiss with a tradesman, I turned a blind eye for as long as I may but."
"I'm sorry father." she said, "He forced."
"Enough, you fluttered your eyes at him like a Finsbury Park whore about her trade, forced my eye, show me the bruises." He demanded.
"He pinned me father there." She started to say.
"Hush girl, what do we say, the way-leave as your dowry?" he asked.
"They offered twenty guineas at the commencement, is that your valuation of my worth." she asked.
"And you turned down Ten Thousand, no, it shall be your dowry, we shall tell your sisters Twenty and the world Ten Thousand, come we have suitors to blackmail." the Major General smiled, Mistress of the Rothby estate, what a station in life and, he mused, he might get to enjoy his grandchildren.
Major General Brabbinger always regretted that he married so late in life, he blamed his own failings for his wife's infidelity, he was already retired from active service at forty five when he married Sophie’s mother and the twenty seven year age gap was too large to bridge, still for all that had she consented to wake with him each morning he could have forgiven her anything but to that she could not consent.
"Lord Rothby" the Major sprang on the unsuspecting Claridge, "My daughter has set a very high price on the way-leave, it is to be her dowry, is that a price you might afford?"
"Gad zooks, sir, I hardly know the woman." he exclaimed.
"But I know your estates," Sophia intoned, "And the enjoyment they endow shall I am sure compensate for a husband who seldom ventures home and prefers overseas postings."
She thought of the famous quadrangle of Rothby's mansion, and there in her minds eye she saw Dullard naked while little by little she flayed the skin from his back with a horse whip.
Claridge looked up to see Rothby enter the room, "They offer the way-leave as dowry Dullard." Claridge suggested.
"And which peacock does it endow, " Asked Rothby, "the delectable Adele or the dazzling Francine?"
"Sophia, actually," said the Major, but I suppose." he stopped as Sophia kicked him forcibly upon the shin. "I suppose we had better ascertain whether this business proposition has merit!"
"Your mother will choke if she hears of it sir," said Rothby posing as Dullard, "I think for that reason alone it is a capital scheme sir, and only query how it is to be done when you are due to return to the Americas next week.?"
"Embarkation eh, well I'm still a serving officer," Claridge explained, "I do believe I can sign the forms and just get a Padre along to do the necessary."
It was settled there and then, and Claridge was offered a guest bed-room and Rothby a place in the servants quarters for the night, and so it was in the small hours of the night Rothby set sail for Sophia's quarters even as Spohia sought out Rothby. They met on the back stairs.
"I will kill you." Sophia whispered, "For what you did to me, when your master is away, I shall flay every morsel of flesh from your back and chest and watch the flies devour you in the mid day heat."
"Yes my Lady" Rothby agreed, "I shall serve you faithfully Madam until that time when I shall pay gladly for my sins," he said as he walked backwards and passing the linen store suddenly he opened the door and pulled Sophia inside.
This time there was no forest of underthings and the night dress rose easily, "stay silent madam or your nuptials will be foregone, no Lord may knowingly marry a fallen woman."
Sophia struggled but her night-dress was suddenly cast aside and in naked-ness was she seen at last, her private parts displayed hid only by a mass of dark curls but even yet moisture glistened in anticipation.
And anticipation was short lived as Rothby's manhood was unleashed from his breeches to plunge un hindered, welcomed even, deep into Sophia's innards.
Still the tenderness had to be forgone as Rothby lightly pressed a cloth to Sophia's mouth silencing her as he plunged into her.
This time she could react, and she tortured him by squeezing his manhood with muscles she scarcely knew she had, squeezing crushing, and she knew from his gasps that the pain was intolerable.
Rothby gasped, amazed first by the ease and apparent preparedness of Sophia's innards to accept him and then the sheer virtuosity of Sophia's musculature, he would have wagered she was a whore of twenty years whoring from the way she controlled him, squeezing him, exciting him, and than as the release point arrived so resting before starting all over again so that minutes passed with them locked together.
Sophia dreamed of the pain she was inflicting, and her mind drifted to a different place, a warm place, free from life's cares, she wondered if her husband would fill her so completely, and for a fleeting instant decided that in default then his servant might serve, but the notion passed as in her lapse Rothby had at last secured release and the fluids gushed and spurted forth with such force she thought they might issue from her mouth.
They lay still for the time it took her to regain some composure, "You shall hang for this!" she said as sternly as she may but when he allowed her up she found she could barely walk and that with the greatest of unsteadiness.
Rothby grasped her and held her steady then as she retrieved her night-gown he lifted her easily and went to carry her away, he marvelled again at her, her slender but firm body standing tall just a few inches shorter than his own, her long slender legs needing no raised heels for elegance yet he imagined the same with red sandals with wine glass heels and his manhood stirred again.
"No" she said.
"I shall take you to your bed and no more my lady," he said quietly, "Perhaps I shall serve you further when you are Lady Rothby?"
"Your discomfort at the flogging post will amuse me greatly." she retorted, but she allowed him to carry her aloft, horribly aware of how like her mother she might be and how soon she had cuckolded her husband.
It was morning when Sophia sat down beside Claridge at Break-fast, her loins ached with the passion of the night and she winced every time she bent her back.
"Lord Rothby, do you love me?" she asked.
"Love, yes, I shall love you, indeed I shall." Claridge replied.
"Have you a passion for me only I see none in your eyes?" she asked.
"Passion is unseemly," Claridge commenced his lecture in the manner of one of Mr Shakespeare's masterpieces, "Passion is for lower orders, take Dullard, Dullard is passionate, but he has not the breeding to deport himself decorously, he will try always to pluck the choicest flower and seduce the most beauteous maiden, heedless that decorum mandates the taking of turns. We of breeding must eschew passion for restrained and lasting pleasures of contentment and companionship, but fear not, I shall perform my duty and you shall have all the children you desire, fear not on that score."
"Yes, I have no passion" Sophia admitted, "or desire, but I shall submit to my duty, and in time I hope we may become friends."
"Capital!" exclaimed Claridge "More toast?"
Rothby had caused a stir, he could find nowhere private for his morning exercise so he used the yard by the servants quarters and a solid mass of young maids peered approvingly as he exercised. laying flat then raising himself with his arms till they were straight then dropping and repeating a full one hundred times and then stepping on and off a step on hundred and then he announced he would run to Langley and be back in the hour, he set off running in just his shorts and light boots, his bare chest glistening already with sweat as he ran past the Break-fast room window.
Poor Sophia saw Rothby running by, looking like a Greek God personified, though she thanked providence he wore short breeches and not a simple fig leaf, and her poor knees buckled, she agonised between hatred and lust and decided that she would have her revenge at some time and place and despaired of knowing when, or how.
It was within the hour that Rothby returned, clutching a note, he rushed half naked into the sitting room where Sophia and her sisters entertained Claridge. "Sir we are recalled to the Carribean!" he shouted, "We must depart forthwith." Poor Adele fainted at the display of overt manliness, the sweet smell of fresh sweat glistening over his muscled chest, and Sophia too had great difficulty hiding her emotions as blood rushed to her breasts and her private parts moistened in anticipation that they might once again be invaded.
"Get out and get dressed you beast." Sophia railed against Rothby,
"Then sadly my nuptials must wait," said Claridge.
But Rothby in his Dullard manner added, "No, I seen the Pastor and he'll do the service in the Langley Wharf warehouse this noon so we can catch the One o'clock fly boat,"
"I say Dullard you are a fast mover." Claridge noted.
"Yes sir, three miles there and three back in." Rothby said.
"He was being ironic" said Sophia, "Now get dressed before another sister faints."
And so it was in her ordinary clothes that Miss Brabbinger met her fate at Langley Wharf warehouse with a congregation of bargees and wharfingers, and in a service which featured the most tuneless hymn singing, led by a one legged one eyed squeezebox player, and little solemnity so did Miss Brabbinger become Lady Rothby.
It was contrived excellently, when the Reverend Peasbody asked "Do you Charles Esmonde, Balfour, Beattie, 4th Baron Rothby take Sophia May Brabbinger for your awful wedded wife, the yokels bellowed in outrageous laughter and Claridge paused, so Rothby posing as Dullard said "I do, say I do sir," and that in law was that.
"Does anyone have a ring?" the Vicar asked.
"Here but we must catch the "Fly" Rothby said handing the ring direct to Sophia, but we must away, sign the book man and quick." but it was Rothby that signed not Claridge, and if any saw they held their tongues, perhaps the Lord did not write or maybe the servant had dainty and neat writing, but that the servant was the Lord no one guessed.
The Horn sounded and the Fly shot away from the berth and stopping only to sample a particularly juicy raspberry "Akillies" the grey retired steeple chase horse which the "Fly" boat sped it away at a rate approaching three and one half miles each hour
The fly was barely in sight around Langley point as Rothby and Claridge escaped the melee, and ran to catch it up, pushing a way through the throng busily despatching the tankards and jars of locally distilled liquor procured by Rothby's servant as if they were dying of thirst, and later and decorously through the Melee the Brabbingers emerged.
"I don't believe I'm married." Sophia sobbed, "I wanted my love there by the altar and Father by my side and"
"Hush sister, you are a Lady now, it is Francine and I you must think of now, how we might attain similar rank" said Adele heartlessly.
"You selfish little bitch!" said Sophia!"
"Sophia language!" said the Major.
"I am Lady Rothby now, and don't you forget it," said Sophia, and realised it was true.
"Then away with you to Rothby Hall, come let us pack you traps and be done with you." her father said as in an instant she had become the epitome of her mother.
"I save you the expense of a Dowry and you cast me aside but in truth Father I should go," Sophia replied haughtily.
The Fly was at Dancaster Lock, its back broken by gross mismanagement the bow rope left taut as the waters subsided and the Canal stopped up by the wreck.
"Seaman, you are noting but a fool!" Claridge berated Rothby, " Pray of what were you thinking?"
Rothby grinned sheepishly, "Perhaps we are unavoidably delayed, and the true message shall shortly be conveyed to us?"
"And what was the message,?" Claridge enquired.
"Apparently Monsieur Le Carr has been to see mother to offer his services with a view to ending Brabbingers intransigence." Rothby explained, "Le Carr has been, Caribbean, easy mistake to make."
"And did the fornicator escape your mother's rage," Claridge asked.
"If he did it would be the first one ever." he chortled, "she will be so cross when we show her Sophia."
"And what about Sophia, she thinks she married me!" said Claridge.
"We shall reconcile our differences between the bed sheets," Rothby avowed. "I own she was pure when I first sampled her and yet she milked me like the most practised whore that ever served his majesty's navy last evening."
"If you say so, shall we walk back to Danescombe House.
"No, Langley will do." said Rothby and they set forth on foot once more Rothby carrying the Bags and Claridge playing the Lord.
The evening was fraught at Danescombe, Sophia's traps were bundled into trunks and all made ready for her departure on the morrow's Fly boat, though when all her hat boxes and robes were encased there was wonder that perhaps a ten ton barque might be requisite not the slim elegant Fly.
And so it was while Molly again pleasured "Lord Rothby" the real Rothby stole away in the night to seek his lover.
Sophia waited for him, dagger in hand she stood beside her bed chamber door from ten o'clock when she retired until three in the morning.
Rothby watched through the bed chamber window, hanging easily from the ornamental stone work he waited until she sank gracefully to the floor before prying the latch open and sneaking in through the window, this time he wore only his short breeches so he might feel her nakedness against his chest but when he reached her his needs were too intense, hardly had he lifted her to the bed than his breeches were around his ankles and his prong battering at the route to her womb.
"Oh" she said as he stifled her screams with a cloth as she woke but then her body responded and he was within her, but the need was too great and the flow sooner than either desired.
"I waited for you, with a dagger." she said.
"I waited until you fell asleep." he replied, "I didn't wish to risk your dagger."
"Your time will come, as soon as my Lord claims me then I shall reveal your advances and it shall be your reckoning day."
"He is at Langley, shall you come not and serve him?" he taunted, "The Fly is wrecked at Dancaster, and Lord Rothby's recall cancelled, or rather a misunderstanding."
"So the rush was for nothing? I was denied my wedding day for a misunderstanding, Ahhh!" she wailed.
Rothby looked round, a dog barked and he heard movement, so he hauled up his breeches and sprang through the window and ran back to Langley.
It was next morning when Rothby and Sophia met again, the Fly was absent but in it's place Leviathan, the Canal company's massive work boat waited upon the Lady Rothby and her luggage, and so did the Lady Rothby come to sit in an easy chair beside her supposed husband as "Dullard" expertly manhandled the barge away from the wharf and goaded the triple team of draft horses into rapid locomotion.
Barely fourteen hours later they arrived at the Wharf for Rothby Hall near twenty four miles away, and a record for the Canal.
There were the traps loaded onto two Carts and the Lord and Lady mounted a trap and off they sailed to the Hall.
Sophia realised something was amiss at once, the paintings in the entry hall looked nothing in the slightest like her Lord Rothby, and all too much like Dullard, she had an awful sinking feeling in her stomach and then she met Margaret, the Dowager Lady Rothby, her Mother in Law.
"Ah is this the girl?" asked Margaret, "I own I expected someone somehow more ah"
she sought for the right words, "extra-ordinary, perhaps."
"I am hardly a girl Madam, I am, twenty and one years almost." Sophia insisted.
"But what possessed him," Margaret asked, "does he think so little of me that he sells his heritage for a Canal?, well Claridge, what is he thinking and why are you wearing his Tunic and Cuff-Links.?"
"Ah," said Claridge hesitantly, "well Madam, I must say in my defence that my Lord instructed every part of my conduct."
Sophie just stared open mouthed, "Yes Claridge pray tell exactly what has transpired, I think perhaps my Lord has made fools of us all."
"And indeed where is my son?" Margaret asked.
"Ah," said Claridge, awkwardly, "He has gone to seek Morkins, and then on with his associate Lieutenant Jenkins to the Metropolis."
"For what purpose?" asked Maureen and Sophia as one.
"To sell the Canal shares I assume, Morkins bought them at three pence three farthings and with the Wayleave ascribed to Rothby they might fetch five shillings?"
"Five shillings!" cried the women again almost as one voice.
"But my Lord will sell them in the coffee houses and back streets of West Minster, you see he seeks the unscrupulous, the greedy and dishonest, for whom of any character would purchase shares worth five shillings for the one shilling he charges."
"But why? is he mad?" cried Margaret.
"I suspect he is capable of the basest chicanery," said Sophia, "but I hope I understand."
"Then share the scheme with us" pleaded Margaret.
"I may have it wrong, let us wait and see what happens." Sophia said, "but is there a room set aside for me please?"
Rothby was already away to West Minster in Lieutenant Jenkins coach and four, no ponderous stage-coach but the light lithe form of a racer intended for a pair but run by four, and in the front seat the disconsolate Morkins,
Woodland and valleys flashed by in the light of the brilliant whale oil lamps with their fine silvered reflections and prismatic lenses, and Jenkins coachman woke the countryside with his blaring Coach horn and fair terrified the keeper of the Feathers at Finsbury Park as they demanded a fresh pair of flyers as their four tired.
With a bare three minutes to change horses and shorten the shafts to a pair that the swerves of the Metropolis might be more easily negotiated they were away once more and daylight saw them in the City.
The news had out run them, "Rothby secures Canal Wayleave at Danescombe, Langley shall be a Canal terminus no more.
So as Morkins sought to sell his shares at the Coffee houses around Mr Lloyds estabishment for five shillings a reprobate seaman called Dullard lurked in corners and sold shares for a shilling here and as a queue formed he gladly took four and five shillings from those he knew to be sharp operators.
Indeed such was the furore that at length Morkins was selling at six shillings, and his money bag groaned with largesse.
Thus even before the great bell of St Pauls was heard to strike nine times so were Jenkins and Rothby bound for home, while at once Morkins was advised that he might wish to find employment in the Metropolis since Rothby was quite sure he could bankrupt the estate soon enough without his assistance.
Sophia fretted as she waited impatiently, expecting at any moment for her man to come for her, and to take from her that which he needed, but he did not come.
"And what are you to be called, Lady Rothby, I assume." Margaret enquired,
"Sophia for now," Sophia answered, "but if it pleases perhaps I may be Lady Rothby and you Lady Margaret?"
"I suppose that is better than Dowager, but why the for now."
"Our union remains un consummated." Sophia admitted, "There I have laid my cards somewhat on the table but, there is more which I feel is something my Lord must answer.
It took the Lady Margaret a very little time to find that she had a very formidable lady sharing her domain, Sophia insisted upon a guest room and that she should be treated as a guest but she was for ever writing notes as she moved around and Margaret turned her thoughts to the Dower House.
Margaret however had a miss-apprehension that Claridge was a Sodomite and in consequence was somewhat less decorous than she might be and asking Claridge to help her as she rearranged her wardrobe as she prepared to move.
Claridge was most disconcerted, Margaret was a formidable woman but her energetic management of the estate had kept her trim and her waist was no larger than when she were sixteen, though it must be admitted her backside had moulded itself to the shape of the saddle upon a horses back long since as she habitually eschewed the side saddle style.
"Feel the velvet," she suggested to Claridge as she handed him a corset to pack, "I suppose you wish you too could be attired in silks and velvet."
"No Madam, I seek no such attire." he said.
"Oh, tis a shame you could have tried my old green dress, come " she enticed but he slipped away to sit trembling in the servants scullery, his rampant manhood in his hand as he sought relief.
But it was Lord Rothby who arrived dishevelled, breathless and filthy after dinner when the supper trays were already laid up, and was immediately charged to explain himself even before he could wash the dust of the highway from his clothing.
Claridge and both Ladies Rothby cornered him and ushered him into the study where they demanded an explanation, but it was when he opened his money bag that they stared with eyes wide.
"I sold the lot Claridge, every single Canal share, well Morkins sold a few but we made over four shillings a share, they were three farthings last week."
"And my sham marriage," said Sophia, "what of that?"
"What sham?" asked Margaret.
"It was Claridge that accompanied me when the Reverend married us," said Sophia, "Not Lord Rothby,"
"But Lord Rothby said "I do" said Claridge.
"Yes I said, I do, say I do," said Rothby, "and I signed the register, so really Sophia, it is for you to decide, you could return home chastened, or." he looked her in the eye, "We could simply consummate our union."
"Oh no I need something more than that!" said Sophia, "starting with an apology," but she saw the look in his eyes and said "Oh no," and started to run.
"Charles, please" shouted Margaret," At least take your muddy boots off first." but Sophia was running upstairs, she paused briefly to allow the exhausted Rothby to catch her and led him to her room.
He sat on the bed, "Oh my I'm so tired." he said.
"So rest a while," Sophia suggested, "I can honestly confirm our consummation."
"Indeed you can," he agreed, "But there is an escape if that is what you wish?"
"And have you ravish me whenever you see fit," Sophia exclaimed, "No I think not, no I shall ration your attentions to mornings and evenings and shall refuse all advances at Luncheon time."
"No, to have and to hold," He insisted, "I shall take what I desire when I desire it but I shall relent in that the Luncheon table and indeed the Dinner time might be set aside for eating."
"Let me help you," Sophia suggested as she started to unbutton Rothby's tunic and then she pulled his boots from his feet as he struggled from his shirt, his breeches came down easily enough and then she saw his manhood curled up like a small animal and reached down to stroke it gently.
Quickly it stirred, expanding and extending until it stood straight up and with a wicked gleam in her eye Sophia slipped down her voluminous skirts and under-skirts and climbed up before sinking down on his manhood.
"Just rest a while my husband, I have energy enough for both of us." she cried.
"Your teats, I wish to see them." Rothby said.
"Tomorrow, you can see them tomorrow," she promised.
Margaret opened the door to Sophie's room "Sophie are you Oh!" she exclaimed as she saw Sophie bounding up and down energetically upon her son's appendage, and instead she said loudly "Goodnight Lady Rothby."
It was morning when they woke, Rothby had woken earlier and insisted that he see Sophia's teats before ravishing her properly and then had they slept again, but with the morning came the inquisition.
"When shall you sell the way leave to the Canal Company." asked Sophia.
"I shall not." he said.
"I shall introduce you to Mr Trevithick and together we shall build instead a Rail Way, and at speeds of twelve miles an hour shall we fly to West Minster."
Spohia realised she had married a madman, but a healthy and lusty madman, and she was content.
It was the After-Noon when Margaret broached the subject of Sophia's lusts, "Now speak truthfully, that was not your first taste of carnality was it child?"
"No," Sophia said, "But you must hear the full tale before you judge." she pleaded earnestly.
"I went to Langley in the Coach with PaPa and there we ran down but for a hairsbreadth an uncouth rough bargee or wharfinger, and he grabbed at the bridles of the pair and stopped them so abrupt I was displaced and fell at his feet."
Sophie continued, "Then Claridge purporting to be Rothby and this same uncouth man called Dullard called upon PaPa, and when they were told be gone this Dullard remained and when I went to send him hence with my whip he grabbed me so powerfully that there was not one thing that I could do except he ravished me and thrust his mighty, ah,"
"Some say Coq after the French" added Margaret.
"Yes," agreed Sophia, "His Cock deep within me, and spurted such copious fluids that I thought I might drown."
"And what did you do, shout Help." asked Margaret.
"No, I own I thought I might ensnare Claridge whom I thought were Rothby," Sophia stated "But when he came again in the night I thought to squeeze his ah, Cock, so hard that he would cry in agonised pain."
"Stupid girl, that is what men like most of all, and this Dullard was my son all along?" asked Margaret.
"Yes Madam," said Sophia, "I thought to reveal his treachery at a suitable moment."
"And have him take you as his whore in the mean time?" Margaret asked in amusement.
"Yes Madam" said Sophia.
"Well, well and whom for a lover will you take now." Margaret asked seriously.
"Lover madam, I am content and more with my Rothby," Sophia continued, "I fall to sleep with his thrusting and wake with the same, as if I am thrusted all the night, but when he is there I cannot deny him, it pleases me too much."
"I envy you a man who desires one so much that he just takes that which he desires," Margaret confessed "That is a true and honest expression of love, or maybe lust."
It was decisive for what transpired that Claridge was passing the door as it was said.
and that evening as Margaret packed more things for her removal to the Dower house she taunted the supposed sodomite Claridge one time to excess.
She chose to change dresses before him, the green brocade for the red velvet and when she was in her underskirt alone he saw the swell of her backside as she bent to retrieve an errant ear ring.
"Oh look at me bending before a sodomite, of what am I thinking," she trilled thoughtlessly.
"Madam I am no sodomite." said Claridge.
"Of course you are, " said Margaret, "Madame Le Genoe assured me you were a perfect Gentleman's Gentleman, a sodomite indifferent to women, only taking pleasure from a Gentleman's appendage in the manner of sodom."
"Madam, you insult me." Claridge avowed, "You deport yourself in a manner that could not but enrage any hot blooded male and expect me to do nothing, well Madam that I cannot do" Claridge cried as he advanced and lifted up the Pettycoat and threw it up revealing Margaret's quivering pink rump and there like a pair of slices of an apple the entrance to Margaret’s womb.
Claridge wavered but his nerve held and through the fly buttons of his breeches his appendage emerged and he grasped it and aimed it squarely at Margaret’s slot.
"No!" wailed Margaret, "For heavens sake man use a skin."
Claridge looked perplexed, "In the second drawer, hurry before the mood is gone." and with a lunge Claridge seized the skin from within its wooden box and slid it on himself.
"You look ridiculous, now take off those trousers and make love to me properly." said Margaret.
"I pay the butchers Lad two pence halfpenny on a Friday, shall you want the same?" asked Margaret as Claridge sank slowly inside her, "Or shall you be my butler in the Dower house perform well my stallion and ohhh," she cried. "Easy sir I am not so young as I once were."
"The very prime of life Madam matured like a fine wine," Claridge assured her and he set to work to pleasure his mistress to the utmost
"Claridge, you have the tongue of the devil." Margaret assured him.
"And you shall feel it madam, licking and caressing." he replied earnestly.