I spent a pleasant afternoon sitting fishing from the gunwhale for my tea, before finding mooring at Catworth boatyard.
Wandering along the dock at dusk, the small round windows of the various barges were lit from within with a homely glow, and I turned inland to purchase some much needed supplies.
The streets were mostly deserted with the glow of streetlights illuminating the descending dusk, but as I passed the 'The Running Pump' pub, I heard the familiar rambunctious laughter of the Orfords.
They were still in their Victorian outfits, grouped around the pub's evening menu.
Looking over from the other side of the road, I could make out five figures huddled in a group, attired in top hats, bonnets and great fur coats against the freezing evening air.
I assumed Jed's new wife was not accompanying them until I realized that the shadowy figure lapping from the dog bowl outside the pub was a woman.
She remained lapping at the bowl that dogs must have shared throughout the day until, having chosen their menu, Jed and another man walked over to the kneeling woman and helped her up by her elbows.
It was only when the young woman was on her feet that the extremity of her tight-laced corset made the need for aid apparent. Her petite frame was restricted to such an extent that her waist seemed 40cm in circumference at most.
She seemed crushed at waist level, with the curve of the busk then giving a place for her displaced flesh from her waist to go. Her small breasts were pushed high as though on display and she was forbidden a coat. Instead her naked shoulders, arms and cleavage shone pale and soft in the streetlight.
Where her companions wore long and lined skirts against the cold, the new bride suffered the indignity of a shirred corset skirt that was both sheer and short, the embroidered hem falling only to the top of her still naked thighs.
Once the men had helped her stand she turned, faced her husband, and curtsied, lifting her short skirt and exposing her panties to him. She repeated the gesture for the other man before the group entered 'The Running Pump.'
I carried on to the store and bought my supplies, including a new Barlow knife and a set of cards with women on the back and went back to the barge for my fish supper, but I couldn't get the image of Jed's wife out of my mind.
She bore all her suffering with such dignity and those curtsies had been a charm in themselves.
The way her buttocks had pushed out slightly so that the very bottoms of her cheeks peeked from under the translucent hem, the way her wrists had bent up slightly as she lifted the hem of her skirt. Her submission was beautiful in its earnestness and acceptance.
A fish supper in my belly, I found myself walking back into town to satiate my growing infatuation with Jed's mystifying new wife.
I found the Orfords' in pride of place at the largest table in the traditional dining area. Petunia noticed me immediately and with a squeal, stood up and demanded an extra chair for me.
The mood was again jovial and light hearted with lugubrious amounts of champagne doing the rounds. Jed's wife alone sat serene, her naked arms by her side and her hands resting in her lap as she delicately chewed. The others had finished their meals and were knocking back the champagne.
As I sat down she glanced up at me, but blushing, immediately lowered her head and carried on chewing.
"uh...hi...I'm...er...Samael..." I said, missing her eyes the moment they were lowered.
"Oh, do stop being silly, liveaboard and join us. The outsider is there to be talked about, not too." Petunia said, tapping the empty seat beside her for me to join her.
"I'd still like to at least say hi."
Jed's wife's eyes flashed up at mine for a brief moment and something curled contentedly at the corner of her mouth.
