With the fall of evening I was treated to a joyous reunion with my Father. We ate a light supper in the Gallery, amidst portraits of our ancestors, depicted with regal poise as their children frolicked in games and play. My favoured painting was of myself, holding the reins as I sat upon my childhood stallion whilst from between his front legs Kitty peered out at the viewer.
Other than a large portrait of my grandfather, Papa's favourite piece in the Gallery was not a painting at all, but in fact a great stone foot, set into the wall at the far end of the room. He had brought it back from Egypt as a young man and upon its pedestal had had carved in hieroglyphics the epithet of Ozymandias, king of kings.
The foot was a folly Papa delighted in telling visitors was the inspiration for the great poet's elegy, and that upon rediscovering it half buried in the desert he had risked all to release it from the withering decay of wind and sand and bring it to the heart of the Empire. Depending on the gullibility of his listeners Papa had been known to add that when he found the foot it had Shelley's signature on the big toe in black ink, but that during the return journey the rains and waves had been so turbulent that it had faded into illegibility, and weeks later had been removed completely when a fastidious maid had assumed it a smudge of sorts and scrubbed it from existence.
With the servants dismissed, John retired to his room and Kitty tucked away in her annexe bedroom practising her lessons of etiquette, my Father and I retired to the music room.
"What's he like, Papa?" I asked while playing a piece from Schumann's Fantasiestücke.
"What's who like?" he replied, sipping from his brandy glass as I entertained him. I couldn't decide whether he was teasing me or not, for surely there would be but one man I wished to know more of in this so close a moment to my marriage.
Instead of words I answered with the song of the piano as I began to play the Wedding March from Mendelssohn's A Midsummer Night's Dream. After a second or two Papa laughed and looked over. I chuckled back and felt stars returning to my eyes as I looked to him.
"He's a shrewd businessman, and a cunning politician," he said. "And above all he's a good man, one of the few I'd trust the security and happiness of my daughter to. Your union will be beneficial to you both, Laura, I promise."
"But, Papa, he's over twice my age," I said as I began to play from the Great Eighteen Chorale Preludes by Bach. Papa laughed.
"Worry not, my darling. The man has gardeners aplenty, and you'll always have John and Kitty."
My fingers faltered at his words, and for a moment I was unable to play altogether. Papa looked at me from over his glass as he sipped his brandy. Pretences, it seemed, would need abandoning. I rose and moved to him, sitting by his side on the large brocaded couch.
"It seems you've heard much about my exploits," I said, looking not at him but at the swirling of my fingertip on the raised weave of the fabric. "And I shan't deny I have indulged, to you nor to him. I rather think that was your intent though, by placing such temptations so close, was it not, Father?" I looked to him now, scanning his eyes as he turned them to me.
He smiled in that infuriating way he sometimes does when he wants me to believe only what I choose to believe. I decided to change tack. "What benefits will be mine once I become his?" I asked.
"Discovery is a wonderful thing, Laura," he said.
"Oh, you!" I playfully grumbled and jumped onto him, straddling his lap. I looked at him with excitement, and my own no doubt maddening way of appearing ready either to kiss or to bite.
"You'll have more fun if I don't tell you," he laughed. I took his glass and threw it forth into the fireplace, and as it smashed against the bricks and logs I leant and kissed his lips then bit his neck.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Although all too brief, Papa's return had been wonderfully enriching, and with the little free time afforded him we spent lunchtimes and evenings together. He spoke of several new ladies he was pursuing, but was not so in love that he was unable to hold me and kiss me and enjoy the scent upon my skin. We talked of Matthew and of Nathaniel and Elouise, and spoke more of my impending wedding, when he again hinted of gifts I would receive and treasures I would impart. I chided him for not explaining further, and all he would say was that all would be revealed. One final clue he gave on the matter was to visit my friend Charlotte and speak with her mother. I asked no further questions about it and merely savoured his knowing smile and twinkling eyes. Far too soon for both our likings he was called away once more.
The days following Papa's departure were spent quietly, marred by that quarterly recurrence Nature had deemed the fair to suffer. Kitty too was in an equal condition, which suited me as she seemed to calm during such times and attain a better clarity of her position and duties in the household. I left her to her tasks.
With the passage of days I was feeling myself again, if fact better than my usual self, for since my awakening I was eager to experience all that I could. Kitty's normal garrulous, energetic demeanour returned once more, and as she flitted hither and thither while dressing and prettying me I studied her with a mild annoyance. Clearly excited about recent events, and eager to experience them again, she chattered incessantly of this pleasure or that she wished to indulge John in, or when I might invite Brendan into my chambers. I looked away, letting my mind drift out through the doors and over the balcony, past the trees and the houses beyond, onwards and over the fields and pastures, to the beach and across the ocean to distant lands, where heroes still fought for love and champions risked all for the hand of a girl.
"Miss... Miss Laura?"
"A soft voice wraps its harp-plucked chords around my wrist," I whispered to the sky.
"Miss?"
"And tugged and pulled 'til plucked am I from abandonment's embrace. No longer held within the hallowed halls of love's new tryst. My tearstained eyes open once more to your familiar face." I looked at Kitty. Her big dark eyes blinked as they uncomprehendingly beheld me.
"You have a question, Kitty?" I said after a moments silence.
"Um, no Miss," she said, then added, "What was that? Was that poetry?"
I merely told her it was, after considering a moment about explaining the verse. As Kitty proceeded to ramble about the prettiness of words and her wish to understand them better I decided some nights I would further my attempts to teach her poetry and prose.
I was dressed in a simple, white silk gown, long but tight and revealing in the bust, and matching high heels. Diamonds adorned my bracelet, anklet and choker and the thick, black ribbon tied loosely near the bottom of my hair on my left side caused it to spill over that shoulder but leave the rest to swish and sway as it normally would. I was scented and powdered, my eyes outlined, my lips reddened and my cheeks blushed, though only subtly. Kitty effused words of praise for my look of grace and elegance, but often I caught her eyeing herself in my mirrors, twisting this way and that and bending slightly as she cooed little murmurs at herself in her French maids' uniforms. So what did she know about grace and elegance? I summoned my butler to the entrance hall and left her scurrying about my chambers with a feather duster.
John awaited me at the foot of the staircases. I sauntered down one side with one hand on the balustrade and the other lifting my dress enough to allow my feet to safely find each step, watching him as I arced down towards him. "Fetch me a carriage, John; I shall be going out for the day." He nodded and bowed and hastened to the door. I studied for a moment the quality of the housekeeping and found one or two motes of dust upon the nymph statues that adorn the ends of the balustrades. He quickly returned and stood in that half-bowing way with an arm half-outstretched as though I needed assistance in locating my own front door. As I approached he reached out and opened the inner door. I stood between him and it. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, then dropped again.
"You will find Kitty upstairs," I told him. "She has been somewhat remiss in her duties these last days and I will not abide her inattentiveness."
"Miss?"
"I have not the time to correct her. You must do it in my stead."
"Yes, Miss."
"Go to her now but do not show her your usual kindness. You must take her into one of the guest rooms and pull her across your lap, where you will pull down her knickers and spank her until she reddens." He began to grin as he nodded. "This is not a game, John!" I snapped. "You must chastise her properly, but not too severely, I should not want to find her in tears upon my return. Spank her several times before you allow her to escape, and you must do so without mention of our conversation. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Miss. Perfectly," he said, looking somewhat pained and a little confused. Inside, I smiled.
"Good. Thank you, John. Perhaps then things will be as they should around here." As I strode quickly forward John rushed to open the front door ahead of me. I stepped outside, then paused and turned back to him. "After you've disciplined her leave her to reflect for one hour, then find her and return her to the same room and pleasure her with your prick." I glanced down at his bulge, then smiled curtly at him, gathered my skirt and dashed down the steps and into the carriage.
The journey to Charlotte's house was particularly invigorating. The trees that lines the avenues seemed brighter and more vibrant than usual as I thought of Kitty, smiling at John's arrival and almost pouncing into his arms, only to be dragged to an unused bedroom and thrust over his knee. She would be confused and begging he tell her why he was angered with her. And he would wrench down her skimpy little panties and spank her poor bottom red. I chucked to myself, thinking of her squeals and stinging posterior, and of John punishing her for my affair with the gardener. It was days such as these I thanked the stars that shone upon my birth.
