The cold wind whistled through the snowy field; drifting and swirling, lifting and falling. It was Colette could do not to shiver. She was warm in her coach, a thick mink blanket drawn around her and door drawn tight. Were she more conscientious, she would have offered her blanket to the coachman sitting atop his perch in the cold, but she had entreated into the recesses of her memories and imagination. Was it really only four days ago that she had given herself to him, and in such a manner?
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Lady Colette Montgomery, of the London Montgomery's, was a treasure. She was charitable, kind, and of course beautiful. She dressed in the latest fashions, but had no qualms about donating her old clothing to her maids and their families. She was generous with her inheritance, and surprisingly quite good at picking the right cargo's to import and export. She ran her home with a frugal thumb, but gifted lavishly to her staff.
At least, this is what the outside world saw.
Internally, Lady Colette Montgomery was a bundle of nerves, doubts, and cynicism. From the moment she woke up until the moment she laid her head to sleep, she was constantly having inside battles with her conscience and intelligence. She worked hard to keep the calm and collected image outside, hoping that she would never have to show just how not in control she was. Her stomach was constantly in knots, causing her to rarely eat anything aside from dry toast and weak tea. This waifish appearance was not a good look for her, but there was nothing she could do. Her parents had left her their fortune, but no wisdom as to how to deal with it. They left her a staff of hundreds, but without an inkling as to what they were paid or what they were worth.
Her parents decided to create a new life in the colonies, but keep their children in England until they could send for them. Colette cursed their impulse each day that went by.
Today was no different, as she drifted slowly out of sleep and stretched. She ran her hands up her legs, hips, stomach, and breasts, taking a tally of her current physique. Frowning, she felt her breasts again.
Shit, she thought, I'm losing weight again.
Letting out a sorry sigh, she sat up and raked her hands through her hair. Of all the beautiful things about Colette, her hair was her glory. Thick and full, it was a curling mass of glossy golden blonde that tumbled down her back to nearly the top of her derriere. Women envied it, men wanted to wrap it around their fists as they took her to new heights of passion. Not that she knew the latter, of course.
A maid bustled in, carrying a tray of food that Colette would inevitably send back untouched, aside from the toast and tea, and a stack of letters. Colette sighed.
"More people wanting things from me, Ingrid? I thought we dealt with it all yesterday," she teased, throwing back the covers and taking the robe the other maid, Glenda, offered. Ingrid smiled at her mistress, making sure not to hold eye contact for too long or make an offhand remark, and set the tray and letters down at the small table beside the window. She bobbed a curtsy and exited the room, saying nothing. Belting the robe, Colette raised an eyebrow at Glenda.
"Was it something I said?" she asked, slipping her feet into the heeled slippers beside her bed and crossing to the table. Glenda chuckled.
"She's not used to a mistress who teases or talks to staff. Things are different in Europe," Glenda said, opening the curtains and allowing the light to come in. Winter was setting in, the snow falling softly and romantically in big fat flakes.
"I do hope that someday she will talk with me. I've heard her speaking before; she has a lovely, musical voice," Colette replied lightly, seating herself at the breakfast table and pouring her tea. In truth, Colette had heard Ingrid being intimate with one of the footmen and downstairs maids, and wanted to hear more about it.
This was another part of her life that the public didn't know about, her secret fantasies. In truth, she was as experienced as a newborn baby, but she found herself titillated by watching others fucking without their knowing. She knew which maids were sleeping with which men, be it in her household or in town, and she liked to watch. She had never gone so far as to interrupt or to touch herself around them, but she knew that day was coming soon. After seeing and hearing Ingrid with the footman and the maid, she throbbed in places that a proper lady doesn't admit to even being in possession of.
"I could have words with her, milady, if she is being a nuisance," Glenda suggested, snapping Colette out of her erotic reverie. Colette sipped her tea and shook her head.
"No no, dear Glenda, the time will come soon enough. What do we have scheduled for today?" she said, nibbling at her toast as she stood up and walked over to her wardrobe. She opened the doors, pondering what she would wear for the day. Glenda joined her, pulling dresses out slightly to help Colette decide.
"This morning is for answering the correspondence Ingrid brought in, as well as checking up on the staff in the kitchen. This afternoon, we have a gentleman coming in to see about some of your father's horses, and this evening is the party at the Winfield's" she pulled a deep plum dress out from behind a rather hideous yellow one, and at Colette's brief nod, took it out of the wardrobe.
"Ahh yes, a Lord Wyatt Browning, correct?" Colette asked, lifting her nightgown from her body and replacing it with the undergarments the dress required. Glenda bit her tongue at seeing Colette's protruding ribs, knowing that she would have to cinch the dress in even further for it to stay up. At least she wouldn't need a corset.
"Yes, milady. Lord Browning will be by shortly after luncheon, but you needn't speak with him. Paul will be able to give him all of the information required," Glenda buttoned up the back of the dress and tied the sash as tight as it would go. The dress, only worn twice before, was already too big. Glenda sighed and turned Colette to face her.
"You really need to eat more," Glenda said, her hands on Colette's shoulders. She could feel the bones of her shoulders. Colette cast her eyes downward, embarrassed.
"I know this, Glenda, but my stomach is in knots. I can't keep down anything more, nor do I have an appetite for it," she said, lifting Glenda's hands from her and walking away. One quick look in the mirror confirmed Glenda's diagnosis. Where Colette was once voluptuous and ample, she now looked like an impoverished maid playing dress-up in her mistress' clothing. Narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips, she turned to the side. She no longer had an enviable bustline, or a pert derriere bump. She no longer found herself attractive, and knew that no one else would either. Coming to this realization, she also came to another. She was starving.
"Glenda, call for Ingrid again. Tell her to set out breakfast for me at the main table. All of it,"
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Lord Wyatt Browning was having an awful day. His father, still in control of the family's estate and more importantly financials, was having a moment of sanity and didn't wish to purchase yet another horse for their stables. It didn't matter that this particular horse had won races and was a prime stud; he was hemming and hawing over it. And Wyatt didn't like that one bit. He had begged, pleaded, and coerced his way into getting his father to purchase it, all for that dream to come tumbling down. He paced the hallway outside of his father's study, trying to come up with any words to express his frustrations. James Browning looked up from his desk, a small smile on his face.
"For God's sake, Wyatt, it's just a horse," he called out. Wyatt stopped pacing and stared at his father.
"It's not just a horse, Father. It would sire many thoroughbred horses that we could in turn race or sell for a high profit. It's not just 'another horse', it would make us money," Wyatt stated earnestly, walking into the study and gripping the back of the leather chair in front of the desk. James simply shrugged and went back to examining the expenses. He had no intention of denying Wyatt this purchase, he just wanted him to realize that money wasn't something to be squandered on a whim. He had read up on the Montgomery stables himself, researching the specific horse and calling on the stable hand himself to answer specifics. Wyatt had chosen a winner, and James was not going to let it go to someone else.
"Alright, Wyatt. You may purchase this horse. But it will be the last one for awhile, at least until some of the colts are born and sold," James stated, looking up at the last minute to catch the surprised grin on Wyatt's face. Wyatt carefully composed himself, embarrassed for having been caught in a moment of sheer disbelief and happiness.
"Yes, Father. I shall be going to the Montgomery estate this afternoon to purchase it," he said.
And, he thought, getting a glimpse at the beautiful lady it belongs to.
