III.

 Smallstaff House
5 June, 1794

 My Dear Sister,

I think you are very sly indeed, detecting, as you have so plainly done, the transformation of my spirits betwixt the time of my last letter, and the one preceding it. Shall I confess it all? Only to you, my beloved Priss, for who better to understand me than you, who have always chosen your own course and done so boldly, cleverly, and with design only for that thing which brings you the truest happiness and pleasure? I trust that General Lord D___ keeps well? Certainly he keeps you so! I have the silks and the shawls, and my dear, they are exquisite! As you might predict, my lord rails against contraband. O, he bores me so! What need or appreciation, pray, have the rabble of the new France for Paris fashions? Better they should find their way to our shores to be worn and loved by true gentlefolk. And you cannot tell me, besides, that the sight of a beautiful and well-dressed lady of quality does not do more for the martial ardor of our stout British warriors than any beating of drums and flying of flags!

Oh, Pitty-Pat, not for the first time I wish and wish again that I could have been more like you! Perhaps it comes from being the eldest. As a girl, I did so take to heart what I believed to be my obligations. Perhaps, too, had I been only a little more bold, thought more about my choice---had I believed, at all, that I had a choice!---still I might have been happy yet, for I know there are married people who do both live and love together, although it's true they seem as rare as hen's teeth among those of our station. But Smallstaff, as you know, is, and ever was, nothing to me save the means of keeping me as our father intended, and I to him but the means to elevate his own House and Claims. I should be grateful, I suppose, that he has---with rare and invariably disappointing exception----shown as little interest in me these past ten years as I have felt for him.  In the past you have urged me to find some small happiness elsewhere, as ladies in my position are often wont to do, and my dear, you know I have tried, but with only middling success. Until now.

You ask me outright if I have a new "beau", and now I tell you outright: Yes! Oh, yes! I tell you too, that I have never known such contentment and satisfaction, for he is everything that Lord Smallstaff and all the others are not! His name is Alexander Edrington. He is the younger son of the Earl of Edrington and a captain in the 43rd Regt. of Foot, with the Brevet rank of Major, certain to be gazetted upon his return from Flanders. Oh, my dear, it is sadly true, he sailed for Ostend only this morning! His ship was to have waited until Wednesday, but this early leave-taking has perhaps been for the best for---I spare not your blushes, Priscilla, as you do not mine---The French Lady has visited me this evening, so early and so unyieldingly that I fear our last days together might have been a very cruel torment indeed!

 

How shall I describe him to you, Priss? How to put into words the way in which only to watch him move across a crowded room is enough to make me wet between the thighs? For certain, he is a beautiful young man---yes, a bit younger than I, though not so very much---in his uniform of scarlet with silver lace, made tall, quite slender, but perfectly, manfully formed in all his limbs, with a leg that is second to none. And while I have always asserted that I could never abide blond men, Alexander must be the eternal exception. In our most intimate moments, he wears his golden glory like the mane of a lion. All madness, it curls and falls upon his shoulders and down his back, and I can lose my fingers in the wild, extravagant mass of it!  Like a lion---oh my, yes, he has that animal power, that native grace and natural supremacy that will brook no denial, and it is that power, sister, seen in his upright bearing, in his hot, dark eyes and in the nobility of his countenance, which commands me and makes me weak!

I suppose I need not to tell you that he is the best lover I have ever had? My love, he is the ideal, at once "le plus forte", and yet most considerative. Shall I try to tell you what he does to me, the way he has of making me feel at once perfectly safe, and yet so terribly afraid? Might I describe to you the way he drives my pleasure almost to the edge of agony? Shall I tell you, my Priss, what he did to me on that first night?

I shall decline to describe to you the interminable affair to which we found both of ourselves invited. It was but one of many this Season, during the long weeks of which our mutual attraction had become increasingly evident and urgent, our mutual need ever the more impossible to deny. Suffice it to say that once our eyes met on that night, it was plain what it was that we both desired, and that the time had come. In a moment, I saw him nod his head almost imperceptibly from across the floor, and I slipped out-of-doors, unseen, to a gallery overlooking a courtyard garden. Completely dark, with no moon, it nonetheless enchanted my senses, for it was fragrant with the scent of flowers and evergreen. A breeze whispered through the leaves and gently stirred the waters of the reflecting pool; it softly caressed my cheeks, my bare bosom and naked arms.

I never heard, but suddenly felt him behind me. First his warm breath on the side of my face, then the supple strength of his arm about my waist, then the lightest kiss on my ear. His tongue darted inside; his teeth gently nibbled at my earlobe. I shivered and melted at his touch!

We were alone, but how easily might we be discovered! The idea frightened and thrilled me, but at the same time, I could not have objected or refused him; I simply could not! As he kissed my neck, my cheeks, my shoulders, he slid his hands over my body, brushing the tips of my breasts, and I nearly cried out. Arousal, liquid and hot, coursed through my loins. As his hands wandered over my breasts and inside the front of my gown, lifting my bosoms, cupping and rubbing them, making the nipples rise and tighten and ache, I could already feel the wet running down the insides of my thighs. My blood leaped in my veins, and my skin prickled as if with a thousand tiny needles of pleasure! I could not move, could not escape; it was impossible, but no matter--this was not the real world, and here there could be no reason or consequence. What happened here, in this enchanted garden, belonged on some other plane than that which was real, if I am making any type of sense!

After a time---I know not whether it was a minute or an hour!--- I felt him raising my skirts at the back, slowly inching them up my calves, so very slowly and carefully bundling the folds of silk until I could feel the soft air on the backs of my thighs above my stockings, then on my bared bottom. He held the material against the small of my back, and his free hand caressed me, stroking my bum, the backs of my legs, in between...

I moaned. "Captain..." I sighed aloud.

"Alexander," he whispered, and his tongue drew a moist, tantalizing line from my ear to my neck, then from the top of my spine to the little shallow groove at the base of my skull. "Constance."

"Alexander," I said, letting my head fall back onto his shoulder, staring up at the blackness of the sky. To see nothing, only to hear and to feel, seemed the most natural thing in the world at that moment. From far, far away came strains of music, the sounds of voices, of clinking glasses and moving feet, but the sounds meant nothing to me. I remained immobile, an enraptured prisoner of those caressing, exploring hands. It seemed nothing was required of me but to give myself up to this delightfully sensual journey in this magical, fragrant place!

But soon there was an urgency in his caresses, and his hand, slipping once more between my thighs, gently pushed them apart, his fingers moving upward to the wet, hot furrow, the tiny mount of my pleasure where all my being seemed now to be concentrated. My legs parted without volition, and I made a tiny sound, which nevertheless seemed to have the impact of a thunderclap in our concentrated silence.

"Shhh, my darling," he whispered into my hair. His hands moved to my hips, flattened across my belly, pressed against the bones of my pelvis. The pressure was a clear demand, and I bent forward slightly, his low voice, golden and thick as honey in my ear, "Put your arms, there, on the wall, that's a good girl. We shall have to be quiet, shan't we?"

"Mmmm." The garden wall was of marble, smooth and cool, at waist height, and I obeyed him, resting my flat palms there, my backside jutting, the small of my back hollowed, waiting with softly closed eyes and heavy breath, my desperate desire for him like a hot red mist engulfing me.

He held my hips and penetrated my open, aching body with one deep thrust. Dear God, I have never been filled so! Had I not been so wet and ready, I vow he might have done me injury, so wonderful is his manly endowment, like none I have ever seen or felt, it being both quite sufficiently long that I could feel him thrusting at the very tip of my womb and deep in my belly, but also fantastically stout, and terrifically hard! A mighty weapon for a mighty warrior!

Gasping, open-mouthed, I tried to move with him, my bottom pressed against his belly as he drove into me over and over, in a ravishing assault that was gloriously reckless, almost brutal in its abandonment and animal purpose---but all the while he held me in his strong but gentle embrace, and his voice, dark and sweet, deep and caressing, whispered nonsense that at once soothed me and inflamed my already raging desire. I was lost-lost in a maelstrom of ecstasy, flooded with my own juices, and with his, melting and flowing, drowning in joy! How I kept from screaming as I exploded into pure bliss, I know not----!

Oh, my darling sister, and that was only the first time on the first night!

 You will say I am in love, won't you, Priss, and tell me I must guard my heart. It may be true, for there are days when I swear I would leave Smallstaff forever to his yacht and his fishing and his politics were Captain Edrington to ask me-I should quit Smallstaff House and Littlecock Abbey and give up the entire of its house, lands and mews! I should follow the drum, boil his kettle and pitch his tent, if that be what he should require of me, if only, oh, only I might keep for my own forever that delicious young man---and by association, of course---that wondrous and magnificent prick!

Of course it is not, is never to be. I have made my bed, and am, if not always happy, at least content to lie in it. My young man has a great future before him-I know that he will cover himself in glory, and he will get himself a title and a wife to go with it one day. I am certain of it, one way or another, and may I tell you something, Pit-Pat? I wish that he may love her, and she him. Can I really be in love, then, and be so willing to give him up to another? But is that not the true test of love, dearest, to wish for the happiness of the other, above all else? Ah, me. Perhaps I shall not have to give him up for some time, after all.

I speak of giving, and now I come, at long last, to the secondary purpose of this letter, which admittedly relates to the first, and I hope you will be happy to indulge the request of a fond sister, and put into the hands of your own beloved Friend, the good General, the note which I enclose herein. It is a fact that Captain Edrington seems to have a disdain for interest of any kind that is most peculiar in one of his Class and Profession. Indeed, while his father procured his first commission for him at the age of sixteen, he has somehow managed to gain his promotions without benefit of purchase, through what I am told by others have been some extraordinarily valorous and dangerous adventures, the precise details of which, I do not think I care to know! And yet while I know he does disdain this sort of thing, it has come to my attention that there is one particular measure of merit which only the interest of a lady may procure for the officer of her choosing. Specifically, it is understood by me that in this matter of the awarding of Field Glasses, it requires the sworn testimony, in writing, of an honest lady in a convenient position to ascertain the pertinent facts and credentials, to be accepted and approved by a senior officer of Whitehall.  Never had I heard of such a thing---although I am sure you must have, Prissy---and I do not think I should have believed it, had I not at last wrested the confirmation from my reluctant lover himself! Reluctant, mayhap, and yet I believe it would be a boon to his pride---and naturally, to his standing among his fellow officers and troops---to receive and carry the instrument of which I speak, which will do justice to his Manly Gifts, and I am quite certain that there is not a gentleman in a better position to approve and expedite my request, than your very own General Lord D___, to whom I extend my deepest gratitude and fondest regards.  Keep well, my dearest Priscilla.

I am your ever affectionate sister,

Constance, Lady Smallstaff

P.S Clearly I am a novice in these military matters. Do, if you will, inquire of the General if it is acceptable for a lady to make her own choice of telescope to be presented to the officer in question? While I am given to understand that Stanley and Sons of Bolton Street makes a very fine glass which is highly prized among the gallant officers of His Majesty's Navy, my love intimates that in fact it is Gieves of Piccadilly which makes the instrument favored by those of the Foot and Horse, it sacrificing nothing in length or girth, but being lighter in weight, and more precisely balanced so as to serve most conveniently the mounted officer.

IV.

Honeybee Cottage
Rochester, Kent
31 December, 1795

My Dear Husband,

No, no, my dear love, you must not blame nor condemn Sir Edward Pellew for writing to me! He was quite right to do so, and I shall be forever in his debt! I am most grateful to him for confiding to me my shameful error, and more grateful still that he has assured me that once the appropriate depositions have been made, he will, with all exertion and expedition, make certain that their Lordships will have approved and awarded to you a New Device, far more fitting and appropriate to your...eminence...than that other!

Tony, my dearest love, to think that you have carried that one these five years past, suffering, I do not doubt, the giggles and smirks, the elbowed asides, and surreptitious winkings of men and officers alike, and all to spare my feelings! Darling, you might have told me! It hurts me more now, knowing, and I do chide you for it, you naughty man! Do not think you shall not feel the sharp edge of my tongue when I get you home once more, Mr. Bracegirdle, and well you shall deserve it!

No, I am pleased that Sir Edward has written, and I believe it is the measure of his regard for you, as his first officer, that he would see this matter set to right. Further, I blame very much your previous superiors, Captain Wilting and Captain Stubbey for their dreadful negligence

Sir Edward has recommended me to those good gentlemen, the Mssrs, Stanley of Bolton Street, and the commission for your new telescope, with it's generous and I believe, most elegant specifications, is already in their hands. I will tell you, Tony, their agent did look at me oddly when I told him that I had purchased your old glass from the establishment of Gieves of Piccadilly! "My dear madam," he said with a mournful shake of his head, "Gieves, while a most distinguished and well-regarded firm, caters more particularly to officers of His Majesty's *army*, you see." And then he gave me the most speaking look! "Oh, sir," I said at last, "I do see!" Oh, dear. I remember quite distinctly, as if it were only yesterday, Tony, that Mr. Gieves himself had assured me in the most obsequious manner that the Specialty Compact Miniature Telescope was "of the latest and most scientifically advanced design, and most sought after among fashionable Naval men who desire to cut a figure in uniform without the unsightly bulk of a full-size glass to spoil the line of a coat"! The villain!

Well, enough of all that. I have dwelled on that particular matter for quite long enough, and there are other, far more pleasurable subjects I wish to touch upon, before I must close my eyes and sleep, dearest, for I do find myself inexplicably weary these days. Do not fret, Tony, I am perfectly well. You know how the dark days can make me a little low, and make me long for spring. Surely it is only that, or some other such simple and natural thing.

Talking of spring...shall I turn now to our little game, and take up where your last letter left off? I trust you are alone in your quarters? If you are not, you must go there now, or put this letter away until you may.

Very well, then. Talking of spring, you say in your letter that it is a fine spring morning, still early, but already warm and soft, and a light, sweet breeze blows the curtains as you lie abed, waiting. At last, I appear with your breakfast tray. What you forgot to mention in your letter, dearest, is that I am wearing my pale pink dressing gown-the one with the blonde lace and the ribbons down the front that you love? Oh...and I have neglected to put on my chemmy or my stays just yet. The silk feels lovely, soft and slippery against my skin, and the fabric is so very fine, it clings a bit, and I believe it may be a bit transparent, even, as I stand beside the bed, with the sun streaming in the window behind me! As you have already written, I have set the tray down and come near, and you, in your devilish purpose have already managed to banish all thoughts of breakfast from both our heads! You tell me you have pulled me down into your arms, and you are kissing me. Oh, darling, yes! I can feel you now, the warmth of your body, the strength of your arms around me, the softness of your lips, the insistent demand of your tongue as you kiss me, so slowly, so deeply. I can smell you, your delicious, masculine scent, heavy, a little spicy, with a hint of salt and the sea that catches in my throat and make me want to weep, to hold you all the nearer, for soon you will be gone once more!

But darling, as delightful as I found the progress that we made from this point in your letter, I fear I must take us back for a moment, for it seems to me that somehow you have got me quite naked already, and at no time do I recall how it was that you undertook to undress me! Or have I come all the way upstairs from the kitchen, wearing no more than a few hairpins and a breakfast tray? If so, I think you would surely have commented upon that unusual occurrence, and so I think you must have forgotten yourself somewhat, for the rules of the game, as agreed upon by us, if you will recall, do require that such details be described in full, do they not?

Very well. May I suggest, then, that at this time, I disengage myself reluctantly from your embrace, and leave the bed for a moment, to stand and divest myself of my sole garment? You are watching me as I slowly begin to untie the ribbons, first the one at the throat, and then the next, and the next. The gown is so soft, so whispery and fine; it simply falls away as the ribbons are untied! Can you see me, love? Oh, I think the breeze coming through the open window may be just a bit chill, don't you? Do you see what it does to my titties, the way it makes the nipples pucker and stand right up? Do you see the gooseflesh rising all over my soft, pale skin? Is it the chill air? Or is it only the way you are looking at me now, like a big hungry pussycat spying a plump little mouse, that makes my body answer so?

You call me back to you, softly, and I obey, and yes, now, as you say, nestled together beneath the eiderdown, warm and cozy in our big featherbed, we begin to explore one another. Tony, oh, love, how I love the feel of your hands on me, so strong, so tender, stroking me, loving me in all the ways, and in all the places only you may love and touch! Oh yes, just as you say, I wish to do the same to you, and yes, I can feel your desire for me. Hot and hard, your manhood pushes between my legs as we embrace and twine together, and yes, I do want you, and yes, I tell you so! I am wet and aching, and I would have you take me now. I want to lie beneath you, open myself to you, to wrap myself around you and take you deep inside me!

But no. Not yet.

I want to taste you first.

You laugh and tell me I'm wicked as I duck beneath the covers and wriggle all the way down, and down. It's so warm and dark, and it smells so lovely, like the manly part of you, pungent and delicious, and I want to swoon with desire! Soon I am there, and I have him. I take him in my little hand, and my fingers are barely long enough to encircle him! He is perfect, long and hard and powerful. With both my hands I hold and stroke him. I cup your balls, so heavy and cool, and I squeeze them a little, ever so gently, and rub the little place just behind, just in that way you love. I hear you sigh and moan as ever so delicately, I take the first tiny taste, licking first that one, small, salty drop that always seems to come. And then, holding you firmly in my grasp, I begin, slowly, slowly, first with soft, kittenish strokes, and then with firmer, and firmer sweeps and strokes of my lips and my tongue, around and around, and up and down, up and down.  I feel your hands in my hair, urging me on gently, but with greater and greater urgency and I know what you want me to do. You want me to take you inside completely, to let you glide all the way in to the soft back of my throat, and to suckle you as you begin to move yourself in just the rhythm you desire, to bring you to the very edge when you will...

What will you do, my love? I now leave the continuation of the game to you!

It grows late, dearest, and I must to bed. Need I even to add that I will go to sleep and wake dreaming of you, and thinking of the day when we shall all be together once more? The children are completely happy and well, save for missing you. Becca, as you see, has sent her little letter, and Nelly, too, wants to show what a big girl she is getting to be, and has written her own name next to a very nice picture she has drawn of her Papa! I can only hope you have not really grown quite so thin as that, although the hat is quite handsomely done, would you not agree?

I am sleepy---but wouldn't you know it, more than a little hungry a well! Do you remember, dearest, when you were here these three months past, and brought those dreadfully salty pickled pilchards for us all? Well, I vow if I would not pay a guinea for one of those little jugs right now! It is the oddest thing! Odd indeed, as in recent weeks, the very thought of such a thing has been like as not enough to fair turn my stomach, particularly of a morning! What do you make of that, Mr.B?

Good night, my darling. How I do love you. May God keep you safe and well. I am forever,

Your Lizzie

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