Hirst Hall

Chapter 2 – Sir Thomas and I celebrate our wedding day

My acceptance changed my status in an instant.  The surly cousin of my late husband became charming and solicitous.  He offered Deepwell as my home until the wedding date.  I accepted with good grace as, although Hirst Hall and the Dalrymple estates were a ways north, we would still be forced to be county neighbours.  The date was set for three weeks hence, the minimum time to have the banns read.  Sir Thomas had left immediately after my acceptance, taking just a kiss as the seal on our bargain. I would not see him again till our wedding day in Ludlow. I wrote to him as to the arrangements and he asked for a simple ceremony and a luncheon for our guests to follow, then we would take the carriage to Hirst Hall arriving there after nightfall.  I might have wished for something more sumptuous, but I supposed that it was not the first wedding for either of us.  There would be time for a proper celebration when the season turned.  My daughter was to stay in Dorchester.  She was not due to return till her schooling finished in the summer. I thought of asking her to make the journey but the roads had been so appalling this wet winter that it was out of the question.  I even feared the carriage would not get us to Hirst Hall.

Sir Thomas did agree that I might take my maid with me to my new home. Rose had been with me for five years, having joined the household soon after turning sixteen.  She was a sweet girl with a creamy complexion and flaxen hair.  I adored the way she was always cheerful and eager to please. She, like me, was excited to imagine what our new life was to be: such a big house, so many staff.  At Deepwell we had eighteen staff all told, including stables and ground staff.  At Hirst Hall there were nearly sixty.  And I was to be mistress over all.

On the morning of the wedding there was a light dusting of snow and the weather was icy cold.  I was grateful for it meant the carriage could make its way to Ludlow over the now half-frozen mud that seemed to fill each road. The ceremony was at St Laurence for those that could brave the roads and weather as well as those that lived in the town. Afterwards we went to the Feathers Inn and had a fine wedding feast. But by two in the afternoon it was time to set out for it would be six hours driving across these bad roads to reach the Hall.

I insisted that Rose should travel in the coach with Sir Thomas and me.  He was not entirely happy but gave in with a good grace that I thought augured well.  I just could not bear the thought of the poor girl sitting up there on the box next to the coachman all the way back to our new home. And so I sat next to my husband while she faced across from us. I had taken a few glasses of wine and despite the rough state of the way I dozed for some time.

When I awoke we had passed Church Stretton where we left the main road to Shrewsbury and we wound past Long Mynd up into the wilds.  Occasionally off to our right I caught sight of the new canal and its barges laden with our ore. We ate a little dinner in the carriage as it was so late. Eventually we came down off the hills into the valley that held our destination. A little after eight in the evening we passed the gatehouse into the parkland and onto the long carriageway leading up to my new home.

The Hall blazed with light, I assumed that Sir Thomas had ordered every candle and lamp lit to welcome me. I was impressed; it was bigger and even more beautiful than I had remembered. As the coach approached I saw the staff rushing to line up under the portico. There were dozens: groundsmen, stable boys, footmen, maids, kitchen staff and more besides.

“Everyone indoors!” commanded my husband as we passed up the steps and into the hallway. “It is too cold for presentations outside today.”

I was swept into the great entrance hall with Rose behind me and looked back to see the coachman ordering the stable lads to unload my trunks from the back and roof of the carriage.  The outdoor staff were quickly leaving and the indoor staff were returning to the house. The hall before me was two storeys high and all marble and had a magnificent fireplace full of blazing logs.  I was grateful for the warmth as the coach had become quite cold despite the rugs and blankets it was equipped with.

As the door closed Sir Thomas said, “Welcome to your new home, Lady Caroline!”

I smiled lovingly back at him, pleased beyond all measure.

“And now, my dear, I should like you to undress so that I may admire your beautiful body.”

I froze. For a moment I thought I had misheard him. There were four footmen, the butler and housekeeper still in the hallway with us, not to mention Rose.

“Sir Thomas, this is hardly the place! Let us go to our bedchamber.” I could feel myself blushing a deep crimson hue.  I am not a prude, but one does not speak this way before the servants.

“On the contrary, wife, this is the very place. Undress immediately! Your maid may help you.” No one had moved and all were staring at me, even the footmen. Rose looked aghast.

“I will not! Come let us go to bed, where this is more seemly.” I felt tears of rage and humiliation welling in my eyes.

“Ah well, if you will not entertain us, perhaps your maid can. George, Hugh, David, have at her!”

Three of the footmen seized poor Rose and flung her to the marble floor. She struggled and screamed.  I tried to go to her aid but my husband held my wrist in a ferocious grip. Soon her skirts were flung up, her legs parted and her undergarments shredded. I could not believe that this was happening in the hallway of my own home. They were all mad. One of the footmen undid his breaches and lowered his body onto poor Rose.

“No!” I screamed but it made no difference. He entered her roughly and she wailed in despair.

“Virgin?” Sir Thomas enquired, almost conversationally.

“Not any more, Sir Thomas, not any more,” grunted the footman.

Horrified I watched as he raped my poor maid while the other two held her down.  Rose was sobbing and begging and pleading.

“Please Ma’am, please.  Make them stop. Please!”

But I could do nothing except weep. All present, even the housekeeper watched the spectacle with some interest. After several minutes the man groaned and shoved himself into Rose to his fullest extent, clearly climaxing inside her ravaged body. He pulled back and stood up rearranging his breaches. The poor girl lay there with legs still spread and his semen oozing from her, mixed with her own virgin’s blood. Slowly she rolled to her side and lay there sobbing her heart out.

“Now, my dear, perhaps you would be so kind as to undress so that we may admire your body. Or would you prefer that George has his turn now on the young slut.”

“No!  Please Ma’am, please don’t let him!” Rose was trying to rise off the floor.

I had no choice.  I was in no doubt that the threat would be carried out and I could not let poor Rose suffer further.  But how could I shame myself in this way?  It was beyond all reason.

“I... I will, husband. But not here, please not here. Not with the servants.”

“Mrs. Jones, is the drawing room warmed?”

“Yes, Sir Thomas,” said the housekeeper, opening a door on the west side of the hall.

“This way, my dear,” said my spouse, dragging me towards it. “Your maid can help you. Bring her!”

The poor thing was tugged to her feet and pulled along in our wake. The drawing room was as luxurious as I had remembered it.  When we were inside he dismissed the footmen and butler leaving just Mrs. Jones and Rose with us.

“Rose, undress your mistress. Now”

“Please ask her to leave.  Please, husband.”

“Mrs. Jones has seen enough naked women, my dear. Now get on with it or I shall order the men back in and they can give Rosie here another ride.”

Rose wailed, rushed over to me and began to unto my dress, my gorgeous wedding gown in cream satin and lace.  She was clearly cowed into absolute obedience. My husband sat before us in a chair and Mrs. Jones passed him a glass of Madeira. God, how I could have done with that.

“Please, may I have a glass?” I tried to sound meek, though I was furious and terrified at the same time.

“When you are quite naked, wife.”

Rose was taking my clothes off as fast as she could. My gown tumbled to the floor, followed by my corsets.  She tugged my chemise off over my head and I frantically covered my breasts with my hands and arms. I felt her undoing my drawers and then pulling them down. I had to move my legs apart a fraction to let her do so. I dropped one hand down to shield my sex while the other remained covering my bosom.

“Thank you Rosie, you may leave on her stockings,” said Sir Thomas, waving at my fine stockings with their blue garters which my maid was already beginning to undo.

“Step out of your gown and put your hands by your sides.  Obey me, woman!”

Slowly and reluctantly I stepped from the pile of discarded garments, which Rose promptly tidied away onto a chair. I dropped my hands blushing even more scarlet than I had ever thought possible. Mrs. Jones came over and passed me a glass of the sweet, strong wine. I gulped at it. Its warmth exploded into my stomach and I shivered.

I know that I have a fine figure. My breasts are now fuller and sag a little more than when I was a girl, but they do not droop. My waist is not the trim eighteen inches (in my corset) it was when I first married, but it is yet a mere twenty-two which is less than most other women my age. My bottom is still quite firm as I ride every day unless the weather is entirely inclement. And my bush is the same colour as the rest of my chestnut hair and is neither sparse nor overly dense as I know some women have.  I am proud of myself and would enjoy showing it to my new husband were we alone in a bedchamber.

“Turn, my dear, I want to see all of you.”

I obeyed. He had me stop so that he could admire the view from different angles. I was made to parade around the room like a prize filly at the horse fair. I could not stop tears running down my face. I was grateful when my glass was refilled.

“I do believe you are even lusher than I had imagined. What do you think Mrs. Jones?”

“Very nice, Sir Thomas. An exquisite form.”

“Come stand here by the fire. Now Mrs. Jones is going to invite the indoors staff in to be presented to you. I expect you to greet them properly as the mistress of the house. Mrs. Jones, recharge her glass.”

All my blushing returned. It could not be permitted. I had to stop him. I made as if to the door but where could I go?

“No!  Please!  I cannot, it isn’t possible.”

“You will, my dear, you will.  You will do it with a measure of decorum or I shall ask two of the footmen to stand either side of you and hold you.  If that doesn’t work then Rosie here will have to suffer.”

“No!  Ma’am, please don’t let him.  Please do it...” The girl had been very quiet trying not to be noticed but was now desperate with fear once more.

What choice did I have?  I went to stand before the fire and took a sip from my once more full glass.  The strong wine was beginning to have an effect on me, taking a little of the keen edge from my utter humiliation. My husband placed his chair next to me, sat down and nodded to the housekeeper.

Mrs. Jones opened the door and gave a signal. Soon the staff began to appear and formed a line. I could see some of them trying to stifle leers and giggles. Then it began.  As each man, woman, girl or boy stepped forward the housekeeper introduced them.

“Lady Caroline, may I present Mr. Edwards, the butler.”  The older man who had been in the hallway stepped forward.

“Pleased to meet you, Lady Caroline.”  He gave a little bow which allowed his eyes to travel all over my exposed body.

“My pleasure, Mr. Edwards,” I replied, trying to hide the trembling in my voice.

“Lady Caroline, may I present Hugh, footman.” The man who had raped Rose stepped forward.

“Pleased to meet you, Lady Caroline.”  Bow and faint leer.

“My pleasure, Hugh,” I replied through gritted teeth.

“Lady Caroline, may I present Mrs. Shepherd, the cook.” A thin, hard-looking woman in her forties stepped forward. I remembered the saying about never hiring a thin cook.

“Pleased to meet you, Lady Caroline.”  She could not keep the disapproval out of her voice.

“My pleasure, Mrs. Shepherd,” I replied as sweetly as I could manage.

And so it continued through more than two dozen staff, each one eying my blatant nudity. Maids curtseyed and tried not to look wide-eyed.  What must they think of a woman so presented?  I kept taking little sips of my wine. The scullery maids could not have been more than fifteen years old.  Finally it ended with a young lad.

“Lady Caroline, may I present Dai, our boot boy.” The boy stared at me quite amazed and not able to hide his interest.

“P... pleased to meet you, Lady Caroline.”  His eyes were fixed on my bush.

“My pleasure, Dai,” the sight of the bulge in his crotch would have been amusing had I not been so dreadfully exposed.

And then it was over.  The four of us were alone again in the room.

“Time for bed, I rather think,” said my husband. “I hope my wife is itching to consummate our marriage. I know that I am!  Mrs. Jones, will you show Rosie to her place?”

“Yes, Sir Thomas. We will just extinguish the candles. Help me girl.”

My spouse placed his hand on my naked behind and steered me towards the door to the hallway. I moved submissively. What other choice did I have? I wanted to comfort poor Rose but that was impossible. I could only submit for now.

In the hallway all was now dark excepting the glow of the banked fire and two candles in candlesticks on the sideboard, left there so that we could guide ourselves to the bedchamber. Sir Thomas took one and the other was left for Mrs. Jones. He continued to move me in the required direction with that strong warm hand on my posterior. We ascended wordlessly through the darkened house and all too soon we were at his bedchamber.

Inside the room was warm and still brightly lit, presumably on his orders.  My eyes were immediately drawn to the large bed with a fantastic ornate carved and gilded headboard. It was the subject of the myriad carvings that made me gasp for, while they were all taken from classical mythology, it was not your usual scene. In the centre was a monstrously priapic Pan, surrounded by admiring nymphs all touching or, in two cases, kissing his member. There was Leda and the Swan but with the poor queen being well and truly taken by her avian lover. On the other side was Europa and the bull but with the put-upon princess receiving the bull in a most unlikely manner. Everywhere there were dryads and nereids, nymphs and satyrs, even centaurs all in wild bacchanalian congress. It was the most perverse thing I had ever laid eyes on.

“Do you like my bed? I had the headpiece made in Venice to my specification and shipped here as a present for my wife to celebrate the birth of our first son. It took so long to carve and ship that it only arrived as she was bearing our second.  You can examine it in detail tomorrow in the daylight. Now that we are alone, you may undress me.”

With that he turned me to face him and, swallowing deeply, I began in my task. I divested him of jacket, tie and shirt revealing his chest to be strongly muscled and covered in black hair. The resemblance to a wolf was even more pronounced. Shivering I began to unbutton his breaches and undergarment. I began to tug them loose and down but he leant on my shoulders and forced me to my knees. I tried not to look as I pulled his garments down below his knees but, freed from its confines, his member sprang forth into the warm open air of the room. I let out an involuntary gasp as it banged into my cheek before I could pull my head away. It was bigger than my first husband’s and much, much larger than my second’s.

“I trust it meets with her ladyship’s approval,” he laughed as he pulled me back to my feet.

I gulped but could say nothing. In truth I did not know what to reply. As he turned to lead me to bed I first caught sight of the portrait hanging above the mantelpiece. I had not noticed it when I entered the bedchamber as my eyes had been drawn to the bed as we entered the chamber. There was hanging the most magnificent life-sized oil painting of Sir Thomas’ first wife, Lady Anne, my predecessor. She was standing facing the viewer, wearing riding boots and nothing else. One leg was slightly cocked by raising her heel and this showed the details of her womanly parts as her bush was as entirely absent as if in a classical sculpture. One hand was on her hip while the other cupped one of her small, high breasts. Her lips were red and slightly parted.  The overall effect was of a woman about my own age but unafraid of showing her most intimate self.  It had clearly been painted in the park surrounding the hall as the facade of the main building could be seen in the distance. I was stunned not just by the subject but by the quality of the work.

“Fine, isn’t it? That painter, Thomas Lawrence, painted it when he came up to do the Devernes family.  He was a bit short financially and was happy to do a set of portraits of my wife.  One hangs in the Yellow Salon and is quite formal, this is the second and maybe one day I will show you the third.  It is more risqué.”

At the shock of this picture I finally broke down, sitting on the bed and sobbing my heart out in complete despair.  I could not take any more. But if I thought this would stop my husband I was mistaken.

He began to kiss me, first my tear-streaked face and then my lips.  I felt his mouth travelling down to my neck and a little later to my breasts. When his lips closed on my nipple and his fingers travelled to my bush, and beyond, I lost control. I was overwhelmed by feelings of sudden ferocity and unimaginable intensity. Shuddering, I creamed right there and then in his hand.

He lowered me to the bed, parted my legs and took me with no more ado. He was big and I had not had a man in more than ten years, but I was so ready for him that I felt only a little discomfort. He was very good at the business and soon I was giving out little cries as my second crisis rose over me.  His was almost simultaneous but if I had expected him to roll off me at that point I was mistaken.

“God, you are hot, you little minx. Once is definitely not going to take the edge off this.”

With that he began to move again, opening my legs further so that he could force his entire self into my body.  It began slowly and this time it took longer; I would be lying if I pretended that I was not a very willing participant. My third climax was perhaps less intense than the first two but seemed to last for minutes until my lover joined me.

As I fell asleep in the crook of his arm I could not help thinking: ‘what do I do now?’