Authors: Jane Prescott
Chapter 13
Lottie, the kitchen maid was making her way through the grounds. She had been sent on an errand by the cook for fresh herbs, for the evening meal
Now don’t forget, Lottie, I need chives and parsley. I know what a scatterbrain you can be. If you come back here without them, I’ll have you scrubbing floors for a week.
Cook’s voice echoed in her head as she repeatedly reminded her self of her instructions.
It was a beautiful day with the sun shining brightly, and it was such a pleasure to be outdoors. Much of her day was cooped up in the kitchen, so being out in the garden was such a welcome change. So much so, that Lottie decided to take the long way round to the gardener’s cottage, after all, cook had not told her to hurry.
She knew this way to the gardener’s cottage well. On her days off she would spend hours wandering the wooded area, listening to the singing birds and admiring the ancient trees that grew here, tall and wide, their bark resembling wrinkled old skin. She was enjoying herself so much that she hadn’t realized she was almost there. It was with a little disappointing when she saw the rear of the cottage in a clearing, just ahead.
Just as she was about to step out of the woodland, something caught the corner of her eye. Thinking it may be a wild animal such as a deer, she stepped back into the trees and peered out with a growing sense of excitement. To her disappointment, she spotted the Mistress of the house making her way towards the cottage. Keeping herself hidden, she watched as Lady Hexley knocked on the door. It was quickly opened and to her surprise, the gardener’s son took her Ladyship’s hand, and pulled her into the house, then closed the door with a bang.
Lottie was in such a state. She had heard the rumors in the kitchen regarding Lady Hexley, but she took no heed of them. She liked the Lady; she was always kind to her whenever she came into the kitchen. This was a real dilemma, she couldn’t return to the kitchen without the herbs but clearly she could hardly go knocking on the gardener’s door.
With a sigh of resignation she turned back and headed to the big house. As much as she didn’t want to get the Lady into trouble, she had no alternative but to tell cook what she saw. She made her way through the woods, her heart far heavier than when she had passed this way earlier.
* * *
Lady Hexley marveled at the strength of her lover, as he effortlessly carried her up the stairs in his strong and muscular arms. When they arrived at the bedroom, he used his foot to open the door, and then he lay her down on the single bed that stood in the far corner of the room.
Still not showing any attempt to hide her modesty as she lay there naked, legs slightly apart, her whole body burning with passion. She watched as Tristan unbuttoned his shirt, and then slipped it off his broad shoulders, baring his wide, lightly haired chest. Now it was her turn to give the admiring glances, and Bridget stared at him unabashedly. Her eyes wandered down his flat taut stomach with its well defined muscles. A little furrow of hair led down from his navel and disappeared into the waistband of his trousers. His hand was already inside the waistband of his pants, and she found it impossible to tear her eyes away as he quickly, in one swift movement, pulled them down and stepped out of them. Now, just like her, he was naked too.
Bridget was a little shocked at the sight of his nakedness, his stiffness protruding out from his body. Her hand, as if it had a mind of its own, reached out. Her fingers encircled the girth, too thick for them to completely wrap around it. She felt Tristan groan lightly at her touch, and his body quivered with desire. She stared at his maleness, entranced, never before had she set her eyes on such a sight. Love making with her husband was always in the dark, and she had been a virgin before she married. She shuddered a little at the thought that soon, he would be inside her. Tristan removed her hand from his throbbing member and laid down beside her, his stiffness pressing into her legs.
She shuddered with delight as he started to plant feather kisses all over her neck, slowly making his way down to the mounds of her breasts. Kissing the soft milky flesh, his lips caressed her skin everywhere. She arched her back, trying to brush the sensitive little nubs of her nipples against his lips, when suddenly he suckled one into his mouth. A sudden heat coursed through her, originating at her nipples and flooding down to her mons, causing her to moan passionately. He suckled gently for a few moments, his other hand reaching over to rub her extended bud between his finger and thumb.
Lady Hexley was in heaven, never had her husband given her so much attention in sex. His technique was as quick and simple as possible, almost as if he was there against his will. She knew he desperately desired an heir, and she believed that was the only reason they made love. For all of her marriage she had imagined that was how it was done. Her lover was teaching her the real meaning of making love, and it was amazing.
Still suckling her breasts she felt Tristan move between her thighs. She spread her legs wide, allowing him complete access to her most private of places. She felt his stiffness brush lightly against her labia, and let out a little shudder of desire. The tip of his maleness hovered over her wetness, teasing her. She could stand it no longer and wrapping her legs around his waist, she forced him inside of her, pressing her hips up to meet him, until their groins mashed together.
She lay there, just like that, with him completely embedded inside of her, as she enjoyed the feeling of fullness that his erection gave her. Then as if they could read each other’s minds, they started to move together. Bridget grinding her hips around and around, as he thrust inside of her. Slowly at first, but before long they were both writhing with abandon as they rushed to meet their mutual orgasms, head on.
Afterwards, he rolled off her and held her in his arms. They laid together in their satisfied glow, neither of them hearing the footsteps on the stairs and their impending doom.
* * *
Malcolm Scott, the Hexley family head gardener, had just had a successful day at the market. He had managed to negotiate a good price for the plants he needed, and arranged for them to be delivered to the estate the next day. Normally, he would spend a few hours in the tavern with the other gardeners, enjoying a draft or two of the fine ales that they served. But, today something niggled him. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but he felt the need to return home as soon as possible. With one longing look at the tavern, he packed his things together and set off back to the estate.
The journey back was not particularly long, but it was on foot so it took a couple of hours of brisk walking. Malcolm liked to walk, the countryside around him was especially beautiful, and he never tired of seeing it. Today he had an urgency in his steps. The views ignored, in his need to return home as swiftly as possible.
Soon the gates to the estate came into view and he passed through them, heading straight for his cottage. As he approached, he chided himself for being so foolish. Everything was fine; it was just an old man’s folly. Opening the door he stepped into the parlor and his face dropped. On the floor, was a crumpled pile of clothes, expensive women’s clothes, a dress he had seen the Lady of the house wear previously.
His shoulders slumped, and with a heavy heart he headed towards the stairs and climbed, making his way to his son’s bedroom.
Chapter 14
Bridget fled from the gardener’s house, in shame. She had quickly dressed, unable to look Tristan’s father in the eye. Would Malcolm say anything to her husband? She doubted it, for it would only put his own son deeper in trouble. Nonetheless, it stressed to her how very dangerous their liaison was.
After Bridget had left the house in tears, Tristan begged his father not to mention what he had seen. He doubted that his father would go running to Mathias, but his loyalty to Lord Hexley was unmovable. He wouldn’t mean to get them into trouble, but he would feel it was his duty to his Lord.
“Tis a treacherous business, the things you both do,” his father warned. “You do the Mistress no favors, my boy, unless you wish to make her life a misery.”
“No, Da, I want to make her life better, not worse, I love her,” his son pleaded.
“Then leave her be, tis safer for all if you just leave her be,” Malcolm finished and left the young man to ponder over his words.
As Bridget rushed into the kitchen entrance in her disheveled state, she ran through it to the back stairway, in the hope of getting to her room unseen by Mathias. The last thing she needed right now was a confrontation with him. Fortunately, the kitchen area was empty and the back stairs deserted, and she reached her room without being accosted. She quickly entered her room and shut the door behind her. Leaning against it, she closed her eyes and let out a long sigh of relief.
“Where have you been, Bridget?”
The sound of Mathias’s voice made her shoulder’s jump. Looking up she saw her husband, he was still dressed in his riding outfit, riding crop in his hand.
“What are you doing here, Mathias?” she questioned, still a little breathless from her flight.
“What do you think I’m doing, Bridget?” he replied with a terrible menace in his tone.
“I cannot think why you would wish to be in my room, Mathias, does your own not serve you well?”
“It serves me fine, Bridget. It is my wife who does not serve me well enough,” he spat back at her. “Where have you been? You look a mess.”
“I have been walking and did not realize how late it was, so I rushed back to dress for dinner,” she lied.
“This stops now, do you hear?” he shouted.
“What? What stops, Mathias?” she pushed him, playing her innocence.
“Your sordid affair with a servant,” he said, no longer caring who heard, it seems that everyone in his house knew before he did.
“You talk utter nonsense, Mathias. Did you expect to find a man in my room?” she tried to sound angry, even though her own guilt was all powerful.
“Well frankly I wouldn’t have been surprised, Bridget.” he said cruelly “This will end, I assure you. I have sent for him and I will be ordering him to leave my land and never return. You have disgraced yourself and my family, I will not have it, you hear. He is leaving today,” Mathias stopped at a knock on Bridget’s bedroom door, as it opened, Mason, the butler stepped into the room.
“I have carried out your wishes, Lord,” he informed the Master of the house. “The boy awaits downstairs.”
“Good, Mason. When I’m done I want you to gather all the staff and inform them of their discretion in this matter, if they value their jobs. Do you understand, Mason?”
“Of course, my Lord, I will do as you wish,” Mason replied, bowing and looking disdainfully over at Lady Hexley, before he shut the door on his way out.
“Stop this, Mathias, this is ridiculous,” she pleaded with him, once the butler had left the room. “Wherever did you get such a notion?”
“Stop lying to me Bridget, you were seen entering the gardener’s house, hours ago. I will not allow this to go on under my roof, any longer. You are behaving like a whore, and I will not have a whore as my wife.”
Without warning he stepped forward and slapped her hard across the face, with the palm of his hand. Bridget was shocked and totally speechless. In the three years of marriage he had barely raised his voice to her, let alone struck her. She could feel the tears stinging as they ran down her cheeks, not because he had hurt her that much, but the shame of everything. It suddenly hit hard, she knew she was defeated and had brought disgrace to her husband and herself. Her affair with Tristan was over, and she would likely never see him again.
As Mathias made his way to the door she called out to him, her voice broken by sobs.
“Please, please Mathias, don’t hurt him.”
He said nothing, but shook his head with contempt and left her alone with her misery. As he slammed the door behind him, she threw herself on the bed and wept loudly. Her heart was broken, how could she ever continue to live?
Chapter 15
Bridget hated how it had all ended. Her sadness was compounded by her feeling unwell. She had put her poor health down to the vexing events of the last few months. Her appetite was much reduced and she often felt nauseous, especially when she first rose in the morning. Her husband was no help; he walked around with a solemn face whenever they bumped into each other. They spoke very little at the moment, but she felt he was softening a little and slowly things were going back to how they had been, prior to her indiscretion.
She had tried on a number of occasions to talk to the gardener, calling at the cottage, but he was never in. Once when she visited she thought she heard someone in the house, but no one answered, despite her repeatedly knocking on the door. Perhaps he was avoiding her, she could not blame him; he was another innocent victim in her foolishness. Still, she somehow had to speak to him. How else could she send money to help Tristan?
Avoiding the library had become a part of her routine, as it held memories of watching him through its large window. This day, though, she wanted to see her water feature Tristan had built for her, not simply because it reminded her of him, but it was a beautiful ornamental feature. Entering the library she felt a pang of sadness, but determined to continue as if nothing had happened, she walked over to the window and gazed out over the old pond. She felt a sudden sickness in her stomach, the feature had gone. Surely Mathias was not that mean that he would destroy it? Feeling light headed and nauseous, she groped around for a chair, sitting down heavily. Her mouth suddenly flooded with saliva as the nausea flushed up into her throat. She vomited, all over the floor. Just as she was lifting up her head, Mathias walked in.
“Goodness, Bridget, whatever ails you?” he said, pulling on the cord calling for the servants. “I did not think that you would take this that badly,” he said, pouring her a glass of water from the drinks tray. “It really had to go. Every time I looked at the damn thing, it reminded me that you loved someone else,” he said, softly.
Bridget accepted the glass of water, it was very welcome. She drank deeply of the refreshing liquid. One of the maids entered into the room, looking quite shocked at the state of her Mistress.
“Take Lady Hexley to her room, Julia,” his Lordship instructed. “She is in great need of rest, and arrange for this to be cleaned away.”
He left the maid to assist his wife, though he worried for her, he still felt anger over what she had done to him. She had hurt him; his heart had ached at the thought of that vagabond and his wife together. He was coming to terms with it, and it helped that the gossip seemed to have been contained within the household. At least his sister, Gertrude, seemed to be unaware, and she was up on all the society gossip. He must remember to thank his butler, Mason. It would be his diligence that had kept the scandal quiet.
For some time now he had thought his wife had not looked well, and hoped she had caught anything serious. He would have asked Olivia to visit and cheer up Bridget, but she was with child and growing every day, by all accounts. This made him smile, he was going to be an uncle and he was looking forward to it. Although his older sister, Gertrude, also had children, but they were rather aloof and no fun to be around. Olivia’s children would be raised completely different; they would be a ray of sunshine whenever they visited.
He loved children and he desperately wanted his own family, but he had found out recently that he may never father a child. After speaking with a physician friend, in London, there was a possibility that a virus he caught as a child, might have rendered him infertile. Of course, he had not spoken of this to his wife, as there was no way of knowing the truth of it, but the news had worried him. He wanted an heir, and he wanted a family.
Julia led Lady Hexley to her room, which was just as well because Bridget doubted she could have got there by herself. She felt dizzy and had the most horrific headache. The maid helped her to bed before returning to the library to clear up the mess. On the way down she bumped into the house keeper, who was also the matron of the house, making her way upstairs. If anyone could help Lady Hexley, it would be her.
Esther the housekeeper felt her brow. “You do not have a fever, my Lady, I’m glad to say, so hopefully, with bed rest, it will pass by quickly,” Esther assured her. “I will arrange soup and bread to be brought up for your supper, my Lady, if you feel you can put something warm in your stomach. I do think it will help. You need to build up your strength, once again.”
“Thank you, Esther,” Bridget said, grateful that the household had such a wonderful person as Esther. “I have been unwell for some weeks now. I thought it had gone, but I just cannot seem to keep food down, especially my breakfast.”
“Your breakfast, you say, Lady Hexley?” Esther questioned, clearly with something on her mind. “Can I ask you a personal question, my Lady, one that I would ask only of a female?”
“That sounds terrible, Esther, what do you think I have?” Bridget became a little worried, Esther knew of most things so she trusted her, implicitly.
“When did you last have your monthly bleed?