The Lady Catherine
Introduction:
A young lady comes to a established lord with a dilemma.
—————
This certainly promised to an interesting meeting. I wasn’t sure why the young granddaughter of one my chief political allies wished to meet with me, but I certainly wasn’t going to turn down a meeting with a women he had described as “a particularly quick study, with a gift for numbers”.
It was just a highly irregular occurrence. She was unwed and promised to no one, so she could not be coming on behalf of her husband, and I doubted her father had the subtly to send another as his proxy. If their family had desired a match, her grandfather, or grandmother would have taken care of it. So what then could it be?
I flipped desultorily through a book as I waited to find out. I had chosen the library as the site of our meeting. It was more casual than my office, and if she enjoyed books as much as her grandfather said she did, she’d clearly feel right at home here.
There was rap at the door, and my batman leaned his head in to announce: “The Lady Catherine is here to speak to you, my lord.”
“Send her in, and bring us some refreshments.”
With a nod, he took a step back from the door, allowing the Lady Catherine to step in. When she saw all the books, she looked around in wonder.
My library is second to none among the nobility. Some of them collect books so that they can appear intelligent. For most of them, even the appearance of intelligence is a lost cause. I collect books because I covet the knowledge they hold. Politics was an amusing distraction to me, a place where I could put to test theories from books and formulate theories of my own. Books, knowledge, learning; these were my true passions.
Lady Catherine it must be said was enough to draw my attention from other thoughts. Her rich dark hair was pulled mostly back into a bun, but some had been left free framed her pale face, set with penetrating blue eyes and elegant features. Her figure was full, and her pale green dress showed this off to best effect, while remaining well within the bounds of what was technically decent. Her beauty was the sort that would endure, that would only improve with time. Still, I was used to seeing beautiful women, and my manners did not dessert me.
“My lady, come in, please, and sit with me.”
I rose smoothly from my chair to greet her. I’m a large man but I can be graceful when I wish to be. I practice with a blade every day. You cannot read books after an assassin stabs you through the heart, and I prefer not to have to rely only on guards. My habitual wearing of a sword is considered gauche by many of my fellows, but it gains me the respect of military men, which is never a cheap commodity.
She tore her eyes off the shelves stuffed with tomes, and accepted my proffered hand. As was custom, I raised her hand to my mouth, and kissed in gently. Just for a beat of the heart. Fashions are tiring, but necessary.
She blushed as I released her hand, and gestured towards a seat. Our pleasantries tided us over until the tea arrived, and I dismissed the batman with “that will be all.”
I waited until she had sipped her tea to begin my serious inquiries.
“I must confess, the reason for your visit eludes me, Lady Catherine. Pray, would you enlighten me?”
She blushed again. It was incongruent, on that oddly mature face, but somewhat fetching.
“I came, Lord Richard, to talk about marriage.”
I was practiced in politics, negotiations, threats and bluffs. It took all of that practice to keep my mouth from falling open. This was beyond bold, and I knew I should be taken aback, but I had to applaud her courage. Even if I had caught her eye somehow (which I doubted, as I had never even danced with her), emissaries were the preferred way. More proper, but also requiring far less bravery. It’s never easy to ask a question like that of someone, even if your motives are political.
I gestured for her to continue.
“My father wishes to marry me to his crony, Lord Percy…”
And wasn’t that a nasty little bit of politics. Lady Catherine’s father did not share her grandfather’s (or my own) political sensibilities. Barred from a seat on the council while his father lived, he had to use cat’s-paws to accomplish his aims. But he was wealthy enough in his own right that he could, and Lord Percy was his favoured tool. Politics aside (as I had plenty a reason to detest Lord Percy for his politics), I had never liked the man. He was too weasel-like, too shifty, and too hard to nail down. While I admired his ability from an intellectual perspective, it left a sour taste in my mouth. The rumours about him weren’t much better: that he only enjoyed prostitutes if he hurt them during the act, that he had once left troops under his command to die. They were only rumours, but they spoke to his character. No one thought them implausible.
I claim no sainthood. I have lain with those prostitutes, and I have led men to their death. But I have never struck a woman, and I have never asked those under my command to take a risk I myself would not take. That, perhaps as much as my sword, is why the soldiers respect me.
So I could see why she would not wish to marry Lord Percy, but I could not see where I came in.
“I have talked to him, and he scares me. He looms over me, and he leers. When I last danced with him, he gripped me too tightly the whole time, and told me that was just a small taste of what was to come when he was mine.”
I hid a wince. That was entirely keeping with his character, although I wondered if she had thought to be grateful of her station. The whores who attracted Lord Percy’s attention probably fared much worse than she had. Not that I could talk much about gratitude for station. I had been born the first son in a high noble family. My life had doubtless been easier than hers.
“I can understand your dislike of Lord Percy. He has always struck me as closer to a weasel than a man, but if you are betrothed to him, there is little I can do.”
“ I am not yet betrothed to him, my lord. My father… my father needs grandfather’s favour, or at least his indifference, and grandfather does not wish the match. But if there are no other men who make an offer for my hand, grandfather will be forced to acquiesce to father. Whenever I catch the eye of a man, father makes sure they are dissuaded from pursuing me. In a year or so, grandfather will be unable to raise any objection when the betrothal is announced.”
I had to ask what her grandfather thought of this, although I knew the answer. The man had been practically like a father to me, and I understood his keen sense of honour. He would not meddle where he was by custom forbidden to, even if it was in his power.
“Why then, did your grandfather not ask me if I would take your hand?”
“Because, my lord, it is not his place to go behind the back of his son and manage the affairs of his son’s family.”
“Quite true. Tell me, my lady, would you like to hear a story of your grandfather?”
She quirked her head in confusion, but responded in the affirmative.
“When I was a young officer, I served under your grandfather. Noblese Oblige has always described your grandfather, I think. A member of the council who cared only for personal gain ordered him into a stupid attack that would have cost far too many lives. Your grandfather had his oath though, and when his protests went unheeded, he followed orders. The week before the attack was to commence, he promoted the son of that man to captain, and gave him the honour of leading the first troops into the breech.”
Her eyes started to widen as she understood. I loved a quick study.
“I was a bit young for captain, but I thought I had served long enough to deserve it. I must have impressed your grandfather somehow, because he wouldn’t have promoted me if he thought I’d end up getting more men killed that way. I was so proud, I wrote to my father about the honour I’d been shown.”
She gripped the chair arms more tightly, and leaned forward.
“The attack was mysteriously called off the night before it was to commence, and we finished the rest of that campaign according to your grandfather’s plan. My father was furious, but he couldn’t complain. What could he say to the council? That his enemy had wronged him by showing his son great honour? That the general who had prepared so diligently for the attack was insubordinate? I learned two lessons from your grandfather that year. The first is that it is easier to win if you don’t meet your opponent head on. And the second lesson, the one my father never learned, is that a leader doesn’t ask men to take risks that he himself will not take.”
She looked thoughtful. I trusted that she was grasping the parallels, where they existed.
“He was prepared to risk your life, to use you like that, and still you followed him?”
I shrugged. “I swore an oath to respect my orders, and die in service if my country required it. Your grandfather set things up so that my life could save the lives of many others. I do not begrudge him that.”
She looked at me with new respect. And what had she heard of me so far, really? Probably disparagement from her father, and only slight praise from her grandfather. He had never run to effusive, that man. If only her father could have taken after him.
“My father has never spoken highly of you my lord, although I know my grandfather has, on occasion. I understand now why he suggested you when I told him… my plan.”
I gestured for her to continue.
“My grandfather has always doted on me, and when I figured out what my father was doing, I went to him, hoping he could protect me. But he explained that he could not, and why he could not. He did, however say that there was no reason that I couldn’t protect myself. He told me that there was a man strong enough and brave enough to ignore my father’s threats, a good man who, if I found Lord Percy unsuitable, might be convinced to ask for my hand. And so I had him set up this meeting.”
I nodded. That explained much. Her grandfather hadn’t interfered in her father’s household, not really. He had just done what any relative was expected to do, namely provide for their family opportunities for advancement. Certainly that didn’t conflict with his duty to not interfere, if the relative in question had asked him, and not the other way around.
“And yet you know little about me, aside from what you’ve heard from your father, which you’ve already admitted cannot be good. What makes you think I would be a better match for you than Lord Percy?”
She glared at me. Good. She wasn’t demure, or easy to bulldoze. She rose to questions, didn’t quail from them.
“I know the difference between what men say of their opponents in anger, and their assessment of them. My father may hate many things you stand for, but he has never mistrusted your word. And my grandfather, the greatest man I know respects you. He would not respect you if you were like Lord Percy!”
“Peace, Lady Catherine! I just had to be certain. I would accept your request for your grandfather’s sake, even if I didn’t find you intriguing. But I wished to know that you didn’t believe I was some fairy tale lording. I wanted to make sure you based your decision on reason, and not on what you thought the world aught to be. You would be disappointed in me, otherwise I think. I have led men to their deaths, although never from the rear. I have lain with whores, although I’ve never laid a hand on them. I have done bad things for the greater good of our Empire.”
She gulped as she processed that. But she didn’t shy away from it. Most noblemen assumed that the women knew nothing of our activities beyond what we told them. I had been blessed with a candid mother, so I knew differently. She would know, or suspect that this was what all single noblemen (and a good number of married ones) did.
“And tell me, my lord, do you intend to continue to lay with whores, even when you are married?”
Her curiosity seemed detached. But there was an edge to it.
“No. I take my vows seriously.”
She nodded.
“I know you think me naïve. And it is true, I am young and I am sheltered. But I have seen my mother beat the prostitutes that my father buys. I have seen men throw away the lives of peasants with contempt while I serve them fine wine. Grandfather… grandfather hasn’t let me shy away from the hard truths of our Empire.”
It was my turn to nod. It was as I thought. Or worse. There was a difference between candid conversation, and beating a whore in front of a child.
“He gave you his speech, on noblese oblige, didn’t he?”
She responded in the affirmative.
“Then you are indeed the kind of women who I would be honoured to marry.”
She blushed rather prettily at this.
“You will ask my father for my hand then?”
“I will.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Please, call me by my first name.”
“… Thank you, Charles.”
Lord Robert hadn’t exactly taken well my proposal to his daughter, but he had to have seen it coming. I made a point of attending several dances, and monopolizing her attention at each one. He only bothered sending one threat, and it was half-hearted. He knew that I wouldn’t shy from challenging him to a duel, and he also knew that he would either lose face by declining, or risk losing much more by participating. He did not practice with the sword like I did.
He could have refused, of course, but that would have probably drawn the ire of his father. Even in his seventies, the Duke of Coldstone was not a man to cross. And he had made it known quite widely that he approved of the match.
The Council was of course, abuzz by the news, but with the Duke of Coldstone’s approval, I didn’t have to worry that my allies would think I was abandoning them. Indeed, they seemed to view it as a great victory for the Duke of Coldstone and myself. Our Progressive Coalition did not like Lord Percy, and this was widely viewed as a blow against him, a blow he was impotent to respond to.
I did have my spies watch his house more closely. He was the sort of man who might make a blunder when enraged, and if he did, I wanted to be able to capitalize on it.
—————
The wedding was less than a month away when I took Lady Catherine on a coach ride through the city. I was cut a fine figure in my dark suit, ornamented with just enough silver piping to suggest a uniform. My sword completed the ensemble nicely. While many noblemen dressed in a riot of colours like prosperous merchants, I chose a martial look, and it tended to make me distinctive in a crowd. Still, I paled in comparison to the Lady Catherine.
Her dress was a beautify contraption, accentuating the curves of her hips and the fullness of her bust, while allowing her to sit comfortably and modestly in a carriage. Her hair was studded with tiny emeralds held in place by a fine, silver net. The site of her nearly took away my breath. I had told her the purpose of this ride was to be seen together, and she hadn’t disappointed. My shirt, just visible beneath my jacket was the same shade as her dress. We couldn’t more obviously be a couple.
I bowed extravagantly to her, and helped her into my carriage. It has a new model, with wheels that were “suspended” from the body in such a way as to minimize the jostling on cobbled streets. It was fully enclosed, but had several windows. Many people would see us, but we could converse in perfect privacy, which was excellent, because I didn’t want anyone else to listen in on our conversation. I rapped on the front panel, and the carriage crept into motion. I almost felt sorry for the horses, hauling myself, my batman, two men at arms and my lady love, as well as the not-inconsiderable carriage.
“Catherine, you are simply stunning.”
She still blushed when I complimented her. I loved that about her. We had talked quite a lot since our engagement last year, and I still found her fascinating.
“You are too kind to me Charles. It is the clothes that make the women.”
I smiled at her.
“And the man too, believe me. But you would, I think, look equally stunning out of your clothes.”
I delivered this completely deadpan, but she caught on right away, and playfully smacked my leg.
“Do you know,” I told her, “that there are many ladies who would just let that pass, or not even realize what it meant? Thank you, my lord, they’d say. I had despaired of finding decent conversation.”
She was smiling at me now too. “You mustn’t blame them too much. If they weren’t so convinced that you men had no desire for them to show intelligence, they would perhaps be more interesting.”
Catherine always surprised me with her incisiveness. She had a scholars mind. Her beauty excited me; it was true. But I was just as eager to get her to myself in a library and pick her brain as I was to get her out of her dress.
“You are probably right dearest.”
“I often am.”
There was a companionable silence as we looked out the windows at the city. She may still blush when I compliment her, but she had definitely become more confident over the course of our engagement. I had seen it with bright young officers, when they learned that I valued their thoughts. Here was someone who had not had the recognition she deserved, getting it at last.
I hoped she was confident enough to answer my next question, because the wedding was close enough that I felt I had to discuss the mechanics of it. Frankness and honesty was the best way with Lady Catherine.
“My lady, I hope you will forgive my rudeness, but I feel there are some questions I must ask you before our marriage.”
She looked nervous, but motioned me to continue. We’d built up a whole language in motions, over the course of our courtship. This one said: continue on, and hurry up, because you being so damn cryptic is making me nervous.
“My lady, do you ever touch yourself, while thinking sensuous thoughts?”
She looked taken aback for a second, before she composed herself.
“It is forbidden,” she remarked dryly.
My gesture, roughly translated said: that terrible logic may work on some other nobles, but I deserve better. It was one of her favourite gestures to use on me, council meetings having given me some bad habits in that regard.
She grinned at me. “It is forbidden, but I do it anyway then. It feels rather nice, and the explanations as to why we shouldn’t have never struck me as particularly good explanations, so I’ve continued to. Why do you ask, my lord?”
“Because I fully intend to please you on our wedding night, and if you know what you want, it will be much easier. If you didn’t, I was going to beg you to try it.”
She blushed at my first statement, but laughed at my second.
“You can still beg me to if you wish. It just won’t take much begging. Perhaps I will think of you tonight, as my hand wanders down my body.”
Her smile was mischievous, and my breathing sped up.
“Well perhaps I will think of you think of me as my hand finds my shaft.”
She just grinned.
—————
The servants left the room where they had helped my wife (my wife, I loved the sound of it in my head and on my tongue) out of her elaborate wedding dress, giggling as they walked down the hall. The ceremony had been beautiful, but this was what we had both looked forward to the most.
I knocked on the door, and then slowly entered. I was still wearing my dress shirt and pants, although I had taken my jacket off and stored it so that it wouldn’t get wrinkled. My wife was seated in one of the chairs, wearing only a shift. It was shear enough that I could see her nipples through it, and there was an inviting darkness where her legs met.
I crossed to her in a few steps, unbuttoning my shirt as I walked. I pulled her out of the chair, and into a kiss. It was our second, but no less passionate for it. As our lips met, I left my member stiffen and become erect. She tasted amazing, salty and sweet, subtle and spicy. She bit my lip, ever so gently. I sat down, and pulled her onto my lap, without breaking the kiss. She opened her mouth, and insistently pressed forward into it. Our tongues met, and I felt like I’d been struck by lightening. My breathing was fast, my heart racing.
We kissed for long minutes, just holding each other. Then I picked her up, and brought her to the bed, without breaking the kiss. I set her down on the edge of it, and pulled her shift off as I let her go. She tried to cover her body with her hands, but I help them tight, and leaned in and kissed her again. She tensed for a second, and then leaned into the kiss. I kissed her until I felt the tension ebb from her hands. I kissed her until I felt a new tension in her hands, and urgency from her kisses. Then I broke the kiss.
I took a second to look at and appreciate her. Her breasts were beautifully large, and shockingly round. They looked delightfully firm. Her nipples stood up proudly. Her slit was framed by a wisp of damp hair, and there was a small dark spot on the bed from her secretions. I wanted to touch all of her at once, but I settled for one part at a time.
I went to my knees in front of her. “Show me how you do it.” My need made my voice husky.
With one hand, she parted her lower lips, showing me the soft velveteen passage between. Her other stroked the entrance, and then gently inserted a finger up to it’s first knuckle. As she stroked her wall with that finger, her thumb found a little nub of flesh above her entrance, and began to lightly stroke it as well. I was entranced by the beauty of what she was doing, but after a minute (and the beginning of some maddeningly attractive moans), I gently replaced the hand holding her lips open with my hand.
Looking alternatively into her eyes (so large and innocent), and what I was doing, I slowly supplanted her other hand with mine. First, I very gently stroked around her entrance. It was extremely wet with her juices. I gently pushed a finger in, like she had, and then pulled it out. I looked into her eyes, and put the finger in my mouth. We both moaned, as I tasted her sweetness.
Her moans only intensified as I put my finger back inside her. Instead of using my thumb to stimulate the nub she had been so focused on, I leaned in and kissed it.
There was sharp gasp of breath, and I made to look up to ensure she was okay, but her hands held my head where it was. So I kissed it again and again, eliciting a gasp or moan each time. As my finger began to speed up inside of her, I tentatively reached out my tongue, and teased the nub with that.
Her legs pressed tight against my head, and her hands pushed it forward even more insistently. Enjoying her reaction, I licked it again, and then began to move my tongue slowly back and forth across it. Her insides felt loose and very wet around my finger, so I inserted another one, and began to move them more quickly.
Her breath started to come only in gasps, then in sharp, short moans. She pressed on me harder on harder, and I continued my ministrations. Suddenly I felt her tense up completely. Even my fingers inside of her could feel the tension. She stayed like this for about fifteen seconds. Letting out a long, low moan the whole time. Then she relaxed her grip on my head. I retreated to look at her face. It was covered in sweat, but beaming at me.
I kissed my way up her body, stopping to gently suck on each erect nipple. This elicited more moans, and I saw out of the corner of my eye her hands stroking whichever nipple I wasn’t sucking on.
Eventually, my lips found hers again, and I stroked her hair and face as I kissed her slowly.
She broke the kiss.
“Please my lord, show me how I can do that for you.”
I smiled and nodded. “It would be my pleasure!”
I disrobed quickly, and her eyes ate up my fit body, and erect shaft.
She hesitantly reached out to touch it, and I made no move to stop her. When she stroked its length, my knees almost gave out from pleasure.
“Let me lie down dearest, or I fear you’ll make me keel over from delight.”
She moved over obligingly, and I was momentarily distracted by the slight bounce of her breasts. I longed to suck on them again, but I restrained myself with the knowledge that there would be plenty of time for that later.
I law down next to her, and she turned to face me. Slowly, I brought my hand to my cock, and began to stroke up and down the shaft, slowly with a smooth rhythm.
Eagerly, she replaced my hand with her own, and again I gasped and felt my whole body go weak. Her soft, small hand was unlike anything I’d felt before.
She did this for a minute, and I began to moan. Smiling, she copied me, and bent forward to kiss the very head of my cock. The head burned with pleasure, as her lips opened, and she took it in her mouth. I could feel her tongue exploring it, questing around the head.
I longed to grab her, and pull her mouth deeper onto my cock, but I didn’t have the strength to. I settled for stroking her face, as she bobbed up and down, sending vibrations through the bed, and waves of pleasure through my body.
I’d had nothing but my hand to entertain myself with since our engagement, and I quickly reached the bursting point.
“Sweetie…” my words were interrupted by a moan. “Please swallow everything that comes out. It’s just going to be a second n – ah!”
I came as I was speaking to her. I felt a wave build up somewhere, everywhere in my body, and crash down over me. It carried everything away but the incredible sensations, as her hand slowly worked my shaft, and her mouth and tongue teased my head. As if from beneath a weight of water, I saw her throat bob as she swallowed my load.
She didn’t stop, even as the pleasure became too much for me to bear. I had already come, but she wasn’t letting me down that easy. My cock tried to deflate, but her ministration kept it from being able to.
I moaned. I needed to tell her to stop, but I couldn’t bring myself to end the pleasure. After a minute of agonizing ecstasy, I was rock solid again. Finally, I could bear it no more, and I sat up and pulled her face to mine.
She tried to stop me, but I wasn’t having any of it, and within a second, we were kissing fiercely. My hand found her breasts, and I began to stroke them. I could feel her moan as my tongue caressed hers.
I gently pushed her back into the bed, stroked her face, as I broke the kiss and looked into her eyes.
“Are you ready, my dearest?”
She smiled, and I felt her hand on my cock, and then warm dampness on the head as she guided it to her entrance.
I kissed her, as I slowly pressed my body down on hers, pushing my shaft deep into her hole.
She moaned, and I felt her hand between us, stroking that nub that had brought her so much pleasure. One of my hands wrapped around her waist, and found her pert butt. The other was tangled in her hair.
Using my hand and my weight, I forced us together again. We moaned at the same time. Her crevice was firm around me, but it did not seem tight enough to cause pain to either of us.
“Faster…” she moaned out, and I obliged. I slowly built up my pace, with each stroke slightly quicker than the one before it. I don’t think I could have managed otherwise. There was nothing in my mind but the feel of her hair in my hand, the closeness of her body squished up against mine, the smell of her perfume and arousal, and the pressure and pleasure as my cock slid in and out of her drenched slit.
The pleasure built, minute on minute, until we were both moaning with every thrust I made. She rose to meet me each time, aided by my hand. I couldn’t think. I was consumed by need. I needed another thrust. I needed another thrust. I needed another thrust. Pleasure engulfed my member. This wasn’t fire or ice. It was every nerve singing.
I felt her body tense, her hand in my hair pulling me back for another kiss. Her slit grasped my cock, and seemed to pull on it. Finally, I crested, and with one last moan, I spilled my seed inside of her. I had never felt like this before. I was languid and exhausted. Every nerve in my body glowed with remembered pleasure.
The last thing I remember before I fell into a deep slumber was her eyes. They were wide, and full of awe.
