Miss Harcourt’s Guardian Pt 2
Introduction:
She is consigned to the whore house
Sadly thoughts of Miss Harcourt leapt into my consciousness at the most inopportune moments and so when I set to sorting out father’s accounts it was of no surprise that the name Harcourt at once jumped out at me.
It was when I selected the ledger from a year ago by mistake, a payment in the name of
Harcourt, from Messrs Newboulton and Biggin,and quite a considerable sum paid at the very end of July.
No such entry appeared for the last year but identical ones for the prior year and prior to that, it raised my curiosity, and I decided to ask Miss Harcourt of this at our next meeting.
I sat back in my chair to think and woke in the deepest part of the night around four, still in my working attire and only then did I slip up to my bed.
I woke late again, worked furiously for a while and then took horse to Maison L’oiseaux.
The door man let me in and Francine attended me and seemed disappointed that I sought Miss Harcourt, and as Miss Harcourt was indisposed or engaged she called Madame to attend me.
Madame welcomed me, “Come, see Miss Harlot!” she trilled delightedly, “Oh such a treasure all the young officers love her.”
“Miss Harcourt, Grace?” I asked in perplexity.
“Ah yes, Harcourt not Harlot.” Madame laughed, “She is in the Green room with the gentlemen of the Cranmores, Lord Oakes regiment of horse,” she said delightedly, “Come see!” and she led me to a door marked privat without the ‘e’ and slipped through to her little sitting room wherein she slipped off her dress and shooed me forward through another door into a tiny narrow corridor which led deep into the bawdy house in the walls of which Madame had a series of spy holes, the walls being false walls and the narrow passage thus created behind the wall provided that the harlots and their gentlemen might be observed surreptitiously.
Through the passage we went and made way to the spy holes behind the wall of the green room wherein Miss Harcourt alone entertained seven or eight young bucks.
They were officers, but dressed only in their shirts, their smart red tunics hung up on hooks and their breeches folded neatly and placed on the benches around the room, “See isn’t she deliciously wanton!” Madame whispered, “She resisted to begin with but now is reconciled to her fate, indeed she relishes their attention.”
I saw Grace was entirely naked apart from her leather hood as bent from the waist she took the member of one young officer in her womb whilst another stood before her as she suckled his member whilst all the time struggling to remain immobile as the officers thrusted into her with a singular lack of synchronisity.
I watched as she changed gentlemen, as one pulled out from her mouth after expelling and the other from her womb, his member encased in a thick opaque skin that was bloated with his seed, so she remained and inclined her head to take another whilst at one time his brother thrust hard into her womb, or did he sodomise her, it was difficult to tell though from the ease with which he mounted her I surmised he used her womb, but in any case it was the facility with which both were changed simultaneously that took my attention.
“My eye,” I averred, “She has learned well, Madame, though I do own I miss her.”
“Indeed?” Madame enquired, “For she is quite insistent that she has no regard for you what so ever, indeed she wishes you dead.”
“Oh,” I declared, “I am sure I did nothing improper.”
“Indeed, and my girls are confused also,” Madame agreed, “They say you are the most considerate of men.”
“Oh,” I blushed, “Indeed?”
“There is hardly one who would not willingly become your mistress if you wished it,” she said honestly, “So what did you do to Miss Harlot?”
“Harcourt,” I corrected again as I watched the officer standing behind her become overly energetic such that his manhood came clear and out of her and he had to re insert his manhood within her before he recommenced the most energetic and artless pounding of her womanhood while she tried to remain immobile that she might suckled his brother officer’s manhood through the hole in her gag leading to her mouth without risk of biting it off entirely.
“I had her publicly whipped for impertinence,” I told her, “She saw fit to strike me with a whip,” I explained, “When I am Lord and she was my father’s whore.”
“She told me she was chaste until you ravished her,” Madame said, “That she was your father’s ward and she lived a genteel and chaste existence until you stopped her funds.”
“Genteel?” I queried.
“She loves to study, she sings, she plays the Harpsichord, she is very accomplished and will very soon be the complete courtesan,” Madame explained, “Once we have her, ah, bottom loosened up sufficiently.”
“So why tell me this?” I asked.
“She is too good for the provinces my lord,” Madame suggested, “She could serve the highest ranks my lord, Dukes, Princes and indeed Kings.”
“And you have had an offer?” I surmised.
“Indeed, an establishment alongside the May Fair ground in London,” Madame explained.
“Oh, and you would receive?” I queried.
“Prestige, no more but what prestige!” Madame declared.
I watched a shrinking manhood be drawn from Miss Harcourt’s mouth and realised that he must have expelled into her mouth and wondered that she did not expel the filth by spitting, but such was frowned upon and Madame insisted that her maids must consume the expellant and indeed lick the male member clean as it was withdrawn.
“So I’ll not see her again?” I asked.
“I mention it as she wishes to be far away from you,” Madame said, “As she says you ravished her and ruined her life for ever.”
“But she was father’s whore,” I insisted, rather too loudly as officers began to look around and compelled us to leave our spy holes and return to Madame’s sitting room.
I left Madame and left Grace to her gentlemen, Madame having decided Friday was to be Grace’s initiation into the delights of that the bottom could provide, and that I was to have the first chance to mount her and to check that the wooden spreaders Madame had compelled Grace to wear had in fact taken effect.
I left Madame’s house and returned home to my labours but a nagging doubt persisted. Had she been a child whore? or had she been plucked as a maiden, or what had transpired, so I as soon as I was able I went to the stout oak box containing father’s papers, and began to search for information. The guardianship document was to the fore where I had thrown it.I knew not what to look for so I looked at expenditure and for the past year only and so only accidentally did I find that I was looking at income not expenditure and there it was writ plain in Indian ink, an entry, Grace Harcourt it was labelled, and the payment was from Mr Silas Boulton of Messrs Frickley, Mann and Boulton.
‘Indeed,’ I surmised., ‘Silas Boulton, then to Silas Boulton I must go’.
I had work to do so it was the Thursday that I deported to Mr Silas Boulton’s abode in Graham Street for an interview.
“Ah young Blanchforth, what brings you here,” Mr Boulton greeted me with familiarity when I had never knowingly set eyes on him.
“My father is dead sir, I am Lord Blanchforth now,” I admitted.
“Then we are indeed honoured sir,” he said, “What brings you here sir?”
I had father’s ledger, “I was going through father’s accounts and I came upon this payment labelled Grace Harcourt, paid by yourself sir?” I explained.
“Indeed?” he queried.
“Yes indeed I have it here,” I averred.
“Then let me see,” he said, “Come in, come in.”
He led me to his lair, a room appointed as an office whereupon I laid my ledger, he peered with some alarm I thought and then smiled broadly, “It is a simple mistake,” he said, “It is merely your father’s signature, there is no co signature, no I am sorry but the fault is your father’s I am afraid.”
I smelt his lies, something was afoot, “Indeed sir, I am terribly sorry to take up your time sir, a beginners error, I shall be more careful sir.” I weasled and twisted and lied and quickly extricated myself from his presence.
Something was wrong, badly wrong I surmised, so I went again to Mr Selwyn Carruthers, my fathers lawyer.
“Do you know this Miss Harcourt trollop sir?” I asked when he invited me in, “She that was father’s whore though she was thirty years his junior?”
“No sir but it may be that my father knows the girl,” Mr Selwyn Carruthers said, “Come with me for he is upstairs, he barely strays from his bed these days.”
Mr Montacute Carruthers was indeed abed, attended by a buxom wench, a buxom wench which it must be said was busily rearranging her attire such that her bosoms were covered, and Mr Carruthers was revealed not to be the invalid I anticipated, “My apologies sir,” I said, “But I seek knowledge of Miss Grace Harcourt, my late father’s whore.”
“And who the hell are you?” he asked, “Blundering in when I might have been in flagrante!”
“Lord Blanchforth sir,” I said, “I seek knowledge of the Harcourt trollop.”
“Hardly a trollop s” he said suddenly sensible, “Indeed, I have known Grace from childhood, indeed I suggested Lord Blanchforth as the ideal Guardian when I as a widower and a single man, could not oblige in all propriety.”
“You suggested, she be father’s whore?” I enquired with increasing incredulity.
“I say again she is most definitely not a whore Lord Blanchforth,” he insisted, “I imagine she is still very much a chaste woman.”
“No she is not, for I am among many who have ravished her,” I admitted.
“But why?” he asked, “Why in gods name?” he asked.
“I paid an annuity, I wished to take advantage if the same,” I declared.
“Then sir you treated her abominably,” he insisted.
“I paid for her like a whore,” I reminded him, “So I used her like a whore.”
“Indeed?” he asked, “And cast her aside?”
“Ah, well, I own I offered her a position as mother’s nurse maid, if she will consent to continue to share my bed,” I admitted, “I am sadly deficient in funds and regular whoring is a pleasure I can ill afford.”
“Then I say again sir, that you sir have treated that sweet girl abominably!” he declared.
“Surely she is Lord Blanchforth’s whore father?” Mr Selwyn Carruthers opined.
“No damn it she is heir to Countess Marietta of Harcourt, did you not know?”
“No!” I admitted, “I had no idea.”
“Then you made a terrible mistake?” the old gentleman accused.
“Mr Selwyn Carrthers surmised she was father’s whore,” I explained, “I had no reason to doubt him.”
“You are naught but a fool Selwyn, never surmise check boy check!” Mr Carruthers senior insisted and though he were an octogenarian and the son a had good sixty summers yet he still called the younger man ‘Boy’
Ah,” I agreed, “Then perhaps I was mistaken?”
“And you ravished an innocent?” Mr Carruthers the older asked.
“And had her publicly stripped naked and whipped for her impertinence and sent to a bawdy house sir!” I added.
“Is this true?” he asked of his son but Selwyn merely shook his head.
“Indeed,” I agreed, “For on first acquaintance she whipped me, from horseback, a commoner striking a Lord, it is unforgivable.” I insisted.
“She outranks you you fool!” the old man protested, “Now leave me I have pressing needs and send that maid again.”
“I must apologise,” Mr Selwyn Carruthers said as we went downstairs, “The fault is all mine and we must put matters to rights.”
He was good as his word and with my ledger which I had with me we traced two previous payments and with a likely date we turned to a chest entirely filled with copies of the London Gazette wherein last wills and testaments for the departed of noble rank were published, and after an hour with the spy glass against the fine print he espied one Countess Marietta of Harcourt who departed some three years since, intestate.
It was no small matter to trace her family but with the midnight oil ablaze we found that indeed Miss Harcourt was an heiress and the estate was in the hands of the executors Mr Silas Boulton of Messrs Frickley, Mann and Boulton solicitors.
“I own this is tricky,” I averred, “I believe skulduggery or fraud is afoot.”
“Indeed,” Mr Selwyn Carruthers agreed, “You have want not of a lawyer but a troop of Militia.”
I knew he was right and though it was three and gone after midnight I took horse and rode for Madame L’oiseau’s house post haste.
The place was entirely shut, locked up against vagabonds and rogues and I had to sleep on the boardwalk outside before the morning came and I was found.
“Be gone!” the doors man cried when he espied me curled against the cold.
“But I must see Miss Harcourt!” I declared.
“Join the awaiting list,” he replied, “Mr?”
“Lord Blanchforth,” I declared.
“A thousand pardons sir, I shall have her roused,” he declared.
“No, take me to her,” I asked, “I should like to waken her.”
“Very good sir, as you wish,” he agreed and he whispered to Phoebe who was Madam L’oiseaux’s Lieutenant and on hand to serve any as was in dire need of release in the early hours of dawn.
“Miss Harlot again eh,” Phoebe chortled, “She is in here!” she said and she showed me a tiny room with a bed where Miss Harcourt lay beneath the thing bed covers.
“Shall I rouse her?” Phoebe whispered.
“No,” I replied, “I shall join her.”
“She must be exhausted,” Phoebe said, “Why she drained half the Royal Wharfdales officers today and will the other half on the morrow.”
I slipped from my raiments and slid in beside Miss Harcourt, she was naked, not even a strap or any other such thing did she have about her.
She stirred slightly as I joined her, “Its me, John, go to sleep,” I whispered.
“John, good,” she suggested, “Sleep yes.” and she yawned and slept again.
I woke to a blinding pain, a chamber pot lay shattered across the bed where it had impacted my head, “No!” she cried, “I forbid it!”
“Miss Harlot!” Madame cried, “What have you done!”
“He used me while I slept!” Miss Harcourt protested.
“So?” Madame enquired, “Where is the harm?”
“Where is the harm?” Miss Harcourt snapped, “Its is rape Madame, that is the harm, I have reached my majority and I decide who uses me!”
“Master her my lord or she will be entirely lost to us,” Madame requested, “Don’t worry there is barely a scratch on your head, and the pot was empty!”
“Grace,” I said.
“Don’t you dare Grace me,” Miss Harcourt said, but I squared up to her and took her firmly in my arms and tried to kiss her, she fought me but I wrestled her to the bed and as I eased my legs between her own and spread them so she realised the futility of resistance and instead flopped lifelessly upon the bed, her womanhood was moist to my touch already.
“I hate you!” she said, “Why must you abuse me so?” she demanded,”Does it mean nothing that I hate you so.”
The door clicked softly shut as Madame left us and I changed position and explored her slot with my fingers, she responded to my touch with instant moistening of her parts, her eyes somehow dimmed and her teats reared and as eased around and slid my manhood within her, she engulfed me willingly and all at once was I transported to the heavens.
“You didn’t use a skin,” she whispered.
“I missed you so much,” I replied.
“And I have learned to fornicate freely with all comers,” she declared, “Why I barely notice your appendage within me,” she lied.
“No matter, for you arouse me entirely,” I assured her, “And I want you to warm my bed and conjoin nightly.
“You must put on a skin or withdraw,” she warned, “Or I may well bear your bastard,” she reminded me and my manhood shuddered and jerked.
“No, My Lord, John, Lord Blanchforth pull out, please I beg of you don’t,” she said and a huge fountain of my milk shot forth and flooded her parts entirely.
“Ohhhhh,” I gasped.
“You pig you filthy pig,” she protested, “Oh there is a quart or more I’ll wager, you are an imbecile a complete imbecile!”
“But Grace,” I said, “Miss Harcourt I have news for you!”
“I really do not wish to know.” she said, as I slid from her and wiped her womanhood furiously with cloth she had to hand whereas she should have wiped my glistening member before she attended to herself.
“Your fortune, has been appropriated by your lawyers,” I explained.
“And you wish to acquire it in their stead,” she observed.
“No!” I said, “It is yours.”
“So you force me to submit and fill me with you filth as you try to wrest it from me?” she asked, “Well think again Mr Imbecile for I should marry all and any before you.”
“Hold hard, I did not offer matrimony,” I insisted, “In all honesty I cannot, my fortunes do not permit.”
“So sir your intentions are?” she enquired.
“I want you for my mistress, there I’ve said it,” I observed.
“And when my looks fade?” she asked.
“Who knows?” I said.
“So you do not offer matrimony?” she asked, “For very nearly all my other gentlemen have asked me.”
“Perhaps I alone am honest,” I suggested.
“Stupid more likely,” she said though not unkindly, “But no matter Madame has suggested I go to London to serve the nobility.”
“I will miss you,” I said.
“And I you, like the passing of a bee sting,” she assured me and she held me in a steady stare, I stared back and smiled, “Oh no,” she said, “Not again please!” but my manhood was up again already, “Use a skin,” she said despairingly as I held her firm once more eased her legs wide and speared her and made her mine.
“You are quite impossible,” she said and she lay back and allowed me my pleasure, and as I looked down at her she looked away and clamped her jaw firm stoically as if to deny the pleasure I was affording her.
“And you might pretend to enjoy my considerable efforts to please you!” I retorted and she balled her fists in anger and frustration and willed herself not to respond though her teats were in urgent need of attention.
I ducked my head and gently licked each teat in turn, she twisted away but then capitulated entirely, “You time has expired my lord, pray finish your business that I might serve another,” she said and with that she wound her legs around me grasped my haunches firmly in her dainty hands and dragged me deeper and harder within her.
“Expell, I say, expell that I may go about my duties,” she demanded but there was no falsehood in her cry as I again began to expel my fluids within her, “OOhhhhhhh!” she cried and the door flew wide.
Madame entered, “Miss Harcourt some decorum!” Madame L’oiseaux demanded.
“I own that was among the best rides I have undertaken,” I admitted.
“Control Miss Harcourt, you must not let your emotions control you.” Madame insisted.
“But I merely pretended for my lord’s sake,” she lied.
“Then you should be on the stage as Mr Othello or some such,” Madame suggested, “Admit it Miss Harcourt you are besotted with Lord Blanchforth, or at least his manhood are you not?”
“The manhood perhaps, the man never.” she averred.
“I came to raise a platoon of your lovers that we might wrest your estates from your solicitors,” I reminded her, “Not to fornicate.”
“Liar!” she said.
“Grace!” Madame gasped and she slapped Miss Harcourt around the side of her face, “My Lord Blanchforth is a valued customer not your lover, now hold your tongue.”
Miss Harcourt glared at her, the colour rising in her cheeks.
“I you would add this morning to my account Madame,” I asked and I swiftly dressed as Miss Harcourt sullenly scowled at me.
“Show Lord Blanchforth how proficient you are at the Harpsichord,” Madame demanded suddenly.
“Madame!” Miss Harcourt protested. “I have no Harpsichord, or Spinnet.
“Use the one in my room,” Madame suggested.
“I shall sing and play if you insist,” Grace agreed.
“I heard her playing when she thought I was away,” Madame admitted, “She sings and plays beautifully, come through,” though Madame stopped Grace from dressing beyond a simple robe.
We went to Madame’s inner sanctum, a room of reds, sumptuous seating all red leather covered, red drapes red carpets everything red and there a Harpsichord.
Grace sat at the keys and prepared to play but Madame insisted she discard her robe first and play entirely naked. Finally she started to play, the sound was like that of a thousand spring-bed springs jangling in a box and her voice that of a thousand cats braying at the moon.
“You hateful child!” Madame exclaimed, as Grace launched into an Aria in one quay for the Harpsichord and another entirely for her voice, it was awful but clearly deliberate so I joined in in as toneless a manner as I could contrive.
Poor Grace could barely contain her annoyance, “Desist!” Madame cried, “You two are impossible, desist I say.”
“I’ll bid you good day Madame,” I declared and I slipped away suspecting that Grace was indeed a competent musician and still wilful though substantially broken and compliant for matters of fornication.
I thought hard about her situation and mine and reasoned that I needed not a platoon of militia, but sound reasoning to resolve the situation and with my head cleared by my morning gallop I awayed to the magistrates to present the evidence I had accrued.
“There is a case to answer here,” Mr Garrickson the clerk to the magistrates agreed, “I shall summon the parties for the next Monday after this in the forenoon.”
I went to tell Grace, but she was with the Militia and made it known I was black balled and she would not receive me.
I went home and set about my chores, It was hot, I stripped to my breeches and attended to the stables in the absence of an ostler and was pushing the muck barrow having discarded my shirt and so worked bare chested on the duties a servant should have performed.
A horse swept into the yard, “You,” a gentleman said abruptly to me as he swept to a halt, “Take my horse,” he ordered as he prepared to dismount and then he demanded, “Where is Lord Blanchforth?”
“At your service Sir,” I said and at once his whip snaked out, lashing my bare chest and drawing blood.
“Keep a civil tongue, you oaf!” he said, “Or it will be the worse for you, now send for Lord Blanchforth!”
I just stared, how dare he I thought. “Fetch Lord Blanchforth!” he insisted and I started laughing at the similarity to how Miss Harcourt had abused me on first acquaintance and then he struck me again.
I laughed again and again he slashed the whip at me but this time I caught the end and pulled hard and as he sought to regain it so he lost his balance and fell.
“And who should I say seeks him?” I enquired as he lay on his back in the mud.
“You’ll hang for this!” the man protested.
“I’ll upend the muck cart on you if you cannot keep a civil tongue,” I retorted, Mister?”
“Thomas Frickley Solicitor,” he said.
“And I am John, Lord Blanchforth,” I explained, “Lord, footman ostler everything bar guard dog, now shall we take a glass of wine or shall I upend the muck cart?”
“A glass then perhaps,” he said, “Could you tether my horse do you think?”
It was no hardship, I tethered his horse and led through to the kitchen where I found a reasonable bottle of Mulberry and slopped a generous measure in a pair of goblets.
“My apologies about earlier,” Mr Frickley announced, “You have summoned my partners and I regarding Miss Harcourt?”
“Indeed,” I agreed.
“There is no need,” he said, “There is no conspiracy, Miss Harcourt merely has to prove she is who she says, that she is chaste or indeed married and the inheritance is hers.”
“She’s a damned whore, damn it!” I said.
“Exactly!” he agreed, “So marry her,” he said, “Marry the harlot.”
“I want her as my mistress, not my wife,” I exclaimed.
“Indeed?” he queried, “And you do not want her fortune?”
“No,” I admitted, “Even my own estate sits upon my shoulders like a mill stone,” I indicated the house.
“My eye you’re an odd cove,” he said, “Then I myself must seek Miss Harcourt.”
I watched him ride away and returned to my duties and that night slept the sleep of the dead only to be roused at dawn by the Beadle, “Beg pardon sir but I have here a warrant for your arrest.”
“What, why, where?” I demanded.
“Breach of promise of marriage sir, Miss Grace Harcourt has complained,” he declared.
“There is no breach Beadle, send word my offer is reinstated,” I suggested.
“But you have to attest before magistrates sir,” he insisted and I damned well did!
I had to go with him to the Magistrates Court where I was called upon, after the customary tedium of waiting for the various miscreants to be sentenced to transportation or hanging or similar I was given the opportunity, to attest that my offer to Miss Harcourt was reinstated, indeed that it had never been withdrawn.
Of course I was in a bad humour by this time, the time came and I said, “Sir, I never made any offer of matrimony!”
“Indeed?” I was interrogated by Mr Garrickson the clerk to the magistrates, “Ah, you had Miss Harcourt whipped for striking you when she was your ward, and pressed her into debauchery in Madame L’oiseaux’s whore house, did you not!”
“Indeed,” I agreed.
“So Miss Harcourt is neither chaste nor betrothed?” he enquired, “For I have a paper from Mr Frickley claiming Miss Harcourt is a whore and thus an unfit person to receive her inheritance!”
“Indeed,” I agreed.
“Then fetch Miss Harcourt,” Garrickson replied, “Let us hear her testimony.”
“Fetch Miss Harcourt,” some imbecile repeated, and then I heard a gasp, that is when I realised Miss Harcourt was in the gallery of the court, though almost unrecognisable in her finery.
“I am here sir,” she announced as she stood up.
I thought quickly, “She asked me to marry here,” I explained, “I merely acquiesced.”
“That is ungallant sir,” Mr Garrickson, stated, “Is that true,” he asked, “Miss Harcourt is that true.”
“No sir,” Grace replied, “I would rather rot in a whore house my entire life than endure one more night with Lord Blanchforth.”
“Then you have fornicated with Lord Blanchforth?” Garrickson asked.
“Yes,” she agreed, “Indeed many times.”
Mr Garrickson pulled himself up to his full height, which truth to be told was a mere five feet and three inches and declared, “Then you shall be taken from this place to the market place and stripped entirely bare and then publicly thrashed with fifty lashes!”
“Hold hard Garrickson,” Mr Trimbolton the senior magistrate declared, “It is not you place to make such declarations, though I own she is a comely lass and the prospect of seeing her stripped bare and soundly thrashed has a distinct appeal.”
“Indeed sir, begging your pardon,” Garrickson agreed.
“You imbeciles!” a French accented voice declared, it was Madame L’oiseaux, she stood beside Miss Harcourt and insisted, “You have heard them confess to fornication therefore you can declare them wed in common law!”
“Applogies Madame but that is the French way not ours.” Mr Garrickson declared.
“Damn it man you don’t usually let niceties like the law stop you meting out beatings,” Mr Trimbolton declared, “Now pronounce them man and wife and be done with it.”
“But sir!” Garrickson pleaded.
“Indeed declare it,” Trimbolton’s colleagues Mr Franscombe and Mr Ebrell agreed so poor Garrickson was deprived of his chance to have Miss Francombe beaten and I was handed a life sentence.
“I solemnly declare,” Garrickson declared, “By the power invested in me, that Lord Blanchforth and Miss Harcourt be man and wife.”
“Case dismissed,” Trimbolton declared, “Next!”
“Ah a petition that Miss Harcourt is an unfit person sir,” Garrickson advised.
“Lady Blanchforth an unfit person,” Trimbolton queried with theatrical incredulity, “Quite ridiculous, petition denied, next.”
And that was how justice was meted out, Grace got her inheritance and I a life sentence of Grace.
I went from the court house and there came face to face with Madame and Grace.
“She will never make a whore,” Madame said, “Take her home.”
“But Madame!” Grace protested, “I have tried my utmost.”
“Yes, come home,” I agreed.
“I shall not!” Grace insisted.
“Then I shall have you whipped as an example to every other disobedient wife.” I insisted, “And again every time you fornicate with any but I.”
“Then I shall beg in the street!” she averred.
“You will take her home Lord Blanchforth,” Madame insisted, “You owe me a considerable amount of money,” reminded me, “As does Miss Harcourt, and you are responsible for her debts are you not?”
“Indeed,” I agreed, “And she shall repay me in her turn,” I agreed, “We shall come for Grace’s effects presently.”
“Oh no my lord, come now, use the green room, allow Grace to show what she has learned!” Madame insisted.
“Oh god, if I must,” Grace conceded and so we made the short walk to Maison L’oiseaux and in the green room Grace showed me her new skills, her attire though modest in all respects had a hidden virtue, a hook at the hem which engaged a ring at her neckline and which held her skirts when hoisted clear of her haunches, as she proceeded to demonstrate.
Her under things were firmly attached to her dress in their turn so that she could be swiftly bared beneath the waist and as she informed me she had practised diligently and now her her bottom was as capable of accommodating my member as was her womb.
“So shall you mount me my lord?” she asked as she braced herself against the chaise longue whilst bent from the waist, her haunches bared, her bruised brown bud seemingly pouting.
“No, I think not,” I demurred, “Not until you learn to kiss me.”
“My lord, I have strained all week for this and now you refuse?” she declared, “You truly are impossible.”
“Then fornicate your fill with other men,” I advised, ” Good day!”
I stormed from the room and from the building and only rested when I had reached the end of the street.
“My Lord,” a small voice pleaded, “I cannot fornicate lest it is adjudged adultery and I should be publicly stripped and whipped again.”
“Then find alternate ways to amuse the Militia,” I suggested, “Maybe you can simply charm them,” I said sarcastically.
She nodded, “Indeed, yes,” she said and she walked away.
“Grace,” I said following, “It was a bad jest, you must come home with me.”
“Oh no, I shall charm the Militia,” she insisted and she strode out determinedly and swiftly we found ourselves back at Maison L’oiseaux.
“Lady Blanchforth, what brings you back in such haste.” Madame asked as we walked in.
“Miss Harcourt thinks she can amuse the militia with her singing,” I explained.
“Indeed?” Madame enquired, “Why, her playing would scare away every rat or mouse in the maison.”
“The Harpsichord needs tuning,” Grace complained petulantly.
“Mother has a very fine instrument,” I suggested, “So may I suggest you practice at home until Madame has this one tuned.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “I am in need of practice.”
“Then you may return and amuse the Militia,” I declared.
“Yes Miss Harcourt, hone your skills with Lord Blanchforth.” Madame agreed so arrangements were made forthwith.
“I thank you for all you have done for my beautiful wife,” I said to Madame L’oiseaux as I prepared to leave with Grace in the carter’s cart with her traps.
“Oh dear god I’ve married an imbecile!” Grace declared but she seemed reassured none the less, and so in a one horse carters cart we slowly made for home.
It was not much of a homecoming, I carried her over the threshold, told Cook and Bessie that Grace was now for all pertinent purposes Lady Blanchforth and then set about fetching her trunks and cases inside.
Grace for her part went straight to my account books and ledgers and announcing them completely unfathomable she went in search of Mother’s Harpsichord.
Fortunately it was well tuned still and played acceptably but poor Grace her voice, it would have scared a horse at a hundred paces.
“You are tense Grace,” I said kindly, a I came up behind her and embraced her, cupping her mounds through her dress in the palms of my hands.
“Indeed,” she agreed, “Madame informs me I am with child, my bleeding is delayed,” she said brightly, “And none but you has used me without a skin.”
“Oh Grace,” I declared, “The we must prepare a nursery for the babe.”
“Just like that, you accept the child is yours on my say so?” she asked incredulously.
“Why should you lie?” I asked.
“I have indeed married an imbecile,” she averred and the forgetting to sing flat she launched into another aria.
“You play beautifully, but I own it is bed time.” I said at length.
“I shall bear it,” she agreed, “Shall we conjoin here on the floor, on the stable floor, on the bedroom floor.”
“Stable floor, that is an excellent idea,” I agreed.
“It was said in jest,” she said sadly.
“In our bed then?” I queried.
“Yes,” she agreed, “I suppose we must,” she agreed and she smiled shyly and so I took her in my arms and sought her lips with mine.
“Later,” she husked, “Make love to me,”
I needed no second bidding and I led her away to my bed chamber, I went to bare her but she was already unclothed before I and we slipped between the bed sheets.
“Madame says you adore me,” she conceded, “So show me.”
“You are but a convenient receptacle for my filth, a womb to bear my child, breasts to feed him,” I explained patiently.
“Liar!” she said, “You cannot live without me whereas I,” she said, “Could live contentedly with any one of a number of fellows.”
“You would soon be bored,” I chuckled, “But strange to say I have not felt any desire for any but you since we first conjoined.”
“It might be a daughter,” she reminded me.
“Then we shall try again,” I suggested.
“Indeed, and we must practice,” she said, “And though I own it is the hardest thing any woman has ever been called upon to do I shall try to love you.”
“Would my member to suck on assist your efforts?” I asked.
“No, but perhaps if it were to join us at the loins perhaps the love might flow?” she suggested.
“Lady Blanchforth!” I declared, “You wanton strumpet.”
“I have been pummelled and poked for a week and more my lord,” she protested. “My parts are loosened and need refilling, can not you understand.”
But her parts were not loosened, but gloriously tight as I found as I gently sank my member within her, for she had learned to use muscles only whores learn to use and as I sought to kiss her lips and she responded I knew I had found perfection.
