“M’Lady Elaine, it’s time to leave if we’re to make Barkley Hall by nightfall. The coachman is tending to the horses and will be ready to leave in an hour.”
The young woman stirred, then stretched and slowly opened her eyes.
“Oh, Millie, why must one wake before the cocks when traveling? This straw tic is hard as a board, and it seems as if I fell asleep only a short while ago. Why can’t they have feather tics in these inns?
“Feather tics be a pretty penny at the market. Innkeepers don’t part with their silver easily, especially when most travelers don’t mind the straw. Just consider yourself fortunate you didn’t get carried away by bedbugs. My cousin, Ruth, said this was a clean and proper inn, but I checked last night just to be sure. Now, get up so’s we can get you dressed.”
The young girl swung her feet to the floor and reached under the bed for the chamber pot. Millie turned away as Elaine lifted her nightdress and squatted over the plain, clay vessel. When the soft trickling sound ceased, Millie asked what Elaine would wear that day.
“I’ll wear the green today. I think it goes well with my hair.”
“Aye, Miss, those red curls will look nice against the green. There must be a bit of Irish in you somewhere along the line, I think. Now, out of your nightdress and into your underthings.”
Elaine pulled the soft linen garment over her head, and Millie silently nodded her approval at the young woman’s lush body. She thought of the years she had spent with this daughter of the Earl of Bekesbourne. Her first task had been wet nurse. Elaine’s mother had died bringing the tiny little girl into the world, and the Earl had gone in search of a woman to nurse his daughter. Millie had suffered the opposite fate. The child she carried as a result of the naive liaison with her master’s son was stillborn. Her breasts were tight and painfully full of milk, and they constantly leaked through her undergarments. It was a match forged by destiny; The Earl had made negotiations with her former employer, and she came to live at Balmore Grange. Tiny Elaine nuzzled Millie’s turgid nipple for only a second before wrapping her lips around it and beginning to suckle. The relief from the painful fullness was nearly as nice as the feeling of a baby’s soft cheek against her breast.
Through the last twenty years, Millie had watched the tiny baby begin to walk, had seen her through the normal childhood illnesses, and had been the one to tell her the ways of women when her time came. The baby who nursed at her breasts had matured into a woman of full, sensuous curves sculpted under milk-white, satin skin. Only one issue caused Millie a moment of concern. The Earl had never re-married, and Elaine had become both the daughter he had and the son he desired. While Millie was teaching her the finer points of etiquette and poise, the Earl was teaching her to ride and the skills of the foil and saber. It was at least fortunate Millie had convinced the Earl that girls simply must ride sidesaddle. It would never do to have Elaine ride astride. What would people say? Elaine had become a woman with spirit and a fearless outlook on life. If she rode as a man, men and women alike would question her femininity.
“I hate these pantaloons.”
Elaine slipped one slender leg into the light garment, then the other and pulled it to her waist. She tied the drawstring, and then adjusted the overlap between her thighs to cover herself.
“They are so hot this time of year, and they make me itch.”
“But, my Lady, you simply cannot be undressed in public. It is not ladylike.”
“Who would know? My dress covers me to the ground. I don’t wear them at home, and I do not see why I should be forced to do so today.”
“I should die of embarrassment were the coachman to see your ankle when he helps you into the coach, and so should you. Now, hurry. We must be on our way.”
The coach made it’s way from the inn just as the first rays of the sun were peeping over the giant oaks that lined the road. Larks sang to the two women in the summer morning, and Elaine reflected on the reason for the trip. She was to meet the man who would become her husband.
The union with Percival, the eldest son of the Earl of Dunmore, had been arranged by her father. The marriage was to insure her future security. The Earl’s lands stretched for a day’s walk in any direction from Barkley Hall, and sheep, cattle, horses, and field crops flourished on the rich soil. When her father died, his more meager estate would pass to Elaine’s husband, and the combined land holding would make her husband a very rich man indeed. Elaine would not want for anything, nor would her children.
Elaine was excited by the prospect of marriage and children, but apprehensive about her future husband. Percival was fifteen years her senior and they had never before met. Would he be a kind husband and good father? Elaine knew of many women who lived a life of submission to their husbands, and knew she could never be happy in that role. Her heart desired the love of an equal partner and a place by his side in the affairs of life. Millie had snorted at these girlish ideas.
“Most girls would consider themselves fortunate to marry into such a wealthy family. Your father is only looking to your future. He will not be able to provide for you forever, you know, and since he has no heir, he must also look to the future of Balmore Grange. By marrying Percival, you will be well cared for, and will pass your childhood home to your oldest son. If Percival does not grow to love you, it will not be such a loss as you believe. You will have your children, and I will be there to serve you. It is not such a bad life to think of.”
Still, Elaine had listened to her father speak of her mother in endearing terms, and dreamed of a husband who though of her in the same way. Since becoming a woman, her thoughts had been of sharing life with a man who treated her as a treasure, and upon whom she could lavish the gift of her own love. Elaine sighed. By late afternoon, she would meet Percival and would know to which life fate had directed her.
These daydreams had taken her away from the rough jouncing of the coach until their forward motion ceased. Elaine peered from he window to determine why they were not moving.
A sleek chestnut stallion stood in the center of the road and blocked the way. The sight of the rider caused Elaine to catch her breath. He was tall, muscular, and dressed in the trappings of a nobleman. Only the brace of pistols he pointed at the coachman, and the mask that covered his face indicated he was anything but a fellow traveler. The sound of his deep, rich voice caused a tingle to race through her body.
“Good coachman, please dismount from your perch and open the door for your passengers, for I would do business with them on this fine morning.”
Old Eric’s voice quavered, but he tried to be brave.
“Aye, and no doubt that business is relieving us of our silver. Be gone, you bastard son of a feral bitch, and let us pass, or-“
“Or what, old man? Would you draw your sword against my pistols? I assure you that your life will last longer if you do as I say. I mean none of you any harm. I only seek to make my living.”
Eric wrapped the reins around the brake lever and slowly climbed down from the seat.
“We have nothing of value, sir. My passengers are but a girl and her servant.”
