Having clothed himself for the first time ever, in formal evening dress, laid out for him by the butler, Justin makes his way to the dining room at the appointed hour. Sophie and Countess Margaret are there already; deep in conspiratorial conversation. Ignored, he takes a seat, next to his wife. Lady Fenton then arrives on the arm of the Reverend Roger, the rector who so recently performed the private nuptials of Sophie and Justin. Roger is introduced to the Countess and, as the dinner progresses, conversation is centered around the cleric. For once, Justin is largely spared the jibes and humiliations of his female in-law relatives.
As the dinner ends, the party makes to leave. Justin hangs back a little and waylays his wife, Lady Sophie.
"Sophie, darling, please, may I come to your room tonight. I am desperate to be with you, alone. You could ask your mother for my key!"
Sophie turns to him with an expression of disgust:
"How could you possibly think of such things, Justin. Your father only died yesterday, God rest his soul. You may not be in mourning, but as his daughter-in-law, I most certainly am. In fact, I'd be surprised if it takes less that a month for me to recover from such a devastating loss!"
Turning on her heel, she walks away from him, briefly looking back:
"Good night!"
On those words of finality, she heads, poised as always, upstairs to her tastefully furnished rooms. Justin follows her progress with hungry eyes, marveling at the sensual movement of her curvaceous buttocks as she disappears. He is taken by surprise, as the senior maid appears at his side:
"The Countess wishes to see you, sir; alone; in her rooms. Now."
Hardly able to recover any composure, Justin obediently heads upstairs and turns on the landing towards the grand 'master' suite, now occupied by Lady Margaret. Knocking hesitatingly at her door, after some moments, he eventually hears her command to enter.
Countess Lady Margaret is seated at the far end of the large room, poised regally on a large, throne-like arm chair of some antiquity.
"Justin my dear, come here."
As he shuffles forwards, he can see a large purple velvet cushion, placed at her Ladyship's feet. Without needing to speak, the Countess gestures for Justin to kneel. At such close quarters, he is immediately aware of her provocative scent: Chanel No. 5.
"Such a sweet, innocent boy; but a baronet, nonetheless. Now, I am going to teach you some of the traditions of the aristocracy."
She holds out her hand.
"Firstly, as a subordinate to the peerage, Justin, you must, on encountering a Baroness, Viscountess, Countess, Marchioness or Duchess, you must take her hand and kiss the offered ring of her authority."
Justin follows her instructions; pressing his lips to the huge emerald on her manicured finger.
"Good. You see Justin, I think you will need guidance and protection during the dangerous months and years ahead. Believe me when I tell you that you are now most vulnerable to the machinations of those around you."
As she speaks, she crosses her legs and the slit in her long clinging evening gown falls open, revealing a pair of shapely nyloned legs; all the way to the garter clips at the top of her sheer stockings. She notices the direction of Justin's furtive glance.
