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Titterington, Spring 1781

Meg scrutinised herself carefully in the looking glass on her bedroom chest of drawers. On second glance, she decided, there was nothing terribly wrong with her reflection, or any sign of blotches, spots or, God forbid, crows feet, on her unblemished complexion. She let out an unladylike sigh. She was tired of these silly moods and megrims. After all, life was good and she had no reason to complain. Spring had almost sprung and life in the countryside was tolerable as a result.

She was staying rent-free in the little cottage in Titterington that she loved, which was situated conveniently to her close companions the Whitmores and their delightful family. She was in the pink of health, finely dressed, financially well set up. So why on earth was she so unsettled? It was only a tiny niggle, but like a small stone caught in the sole of one of her elegant Louis-heeled shoes, it provided just enough discomfort to be a constant source of irritation.

Noticing that such musings made her face fall into those dreaded lines, she pulled herself together. Enough of this, she thought sharply. Dithering and complaining was not helping at all.

She stood up smartly, carefully arranging her second-best daywear bonnet to its most becoming advantage on her luxuriant curls before setting out. Her destination was St. Margaret’s vicarage in the nearby town of Stratton-over-Wye, in order for the clerical incumbent and her good friend, The Reverend Tobias Whitmore, to sort out her tangled feelings. After all, she thought, what else is the point of having a vicar in the family? Or near enough.

It was Tobias himself who opened the door to her, the Whitmores’ hopeless housekeeper being selectively deaf to the prospect of any real work. He had a sheaf of papers in his hand and his abstracted expression brightened when he saw his visitor.

“Meg!” He beamed. “What a nice surprise. I’m sorry to say Lucy and the children are out for a walk, but I’m sure they won’t be long. Would you like to come in and wait for them?”

Meg stepped over the threshold, placing the fashionable example of the milliner’s work on the hallstand. “That would be very nice,” she said. “But it’s you I have come to see today.”

That gained Tobias’ full attention and his manner changed subtly from social to professional. “Ah,” he said, “in that case, you’d better come through the study.”

He settled her into a comfortable chair by the hearth and offered her a glass of wine, chatting inconsequentially. The part of Meg that wasn’t distracted was amused at his ecclesiastical stock in trade of small talk to make her feel at ease.

Tobias sat opposite her, raised his glass and said, “Your very good health, our dear friend,” and then patiently waited for his unexpected guest to unburden herself.

Meg scrunched up her face and tried to concentrate her vague feelings into words and then gave up. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days,” she said simply. “I’m all of a heap, and heaven knows why.”

She gazed at her wine glass and sighed, not noticing Tobias’ consternation.

“It’s lots of little things really,” she said, her thoughts slowly crystallising as she began to speak. “For a start, I realise my line of work can’t go on forever, as I’m not getting any younger.” Tobias looked at her eternally fresh appearance and concealed a grin.

“As you know,” Meg continued, “in the long run, me and Betty always planned to buy a small house together somewhere, but now she’s got this theatrical career...” Her voice tailed off.

Betty, bosom (and bosomy) friend and long-time lover of Meg, occasional playmate of Tobias before his marriage and on one memorable occasion, of both he and his darling wife, Lucy, had unexpectedly become a success on the stage.

When Tobias and Lucy had visited Bath a few seasons previously, they had attended the Theatre Royal where Betty was temporarily hired as an opera dancer. Not long after, in a classic theatrical cliché, the actress playing the role of a saucy maidservant in the Comedy of Manners had fallen down the stairs of her lodgings and sprained her ankle.

This occurred before an evening show, so there was a sudden and histrionic casting crisis. Betty stepped in to save the day, as she not only knew the part but looked so fetching in her low-cut servant’s costume that no one would have cared if she could speak or not.

However, her performance had so impressed the management, that once the original actress had recovered, Betty had promptly been offered a similar part in a new production. Along the way, she had also acquired an adoring patron, who supported her and her productions lavishly. So, at this point in time, to her surprise, Betty had found herself in an entirely new and well-established way of life.

“Not that I mind,” Meg said as if to reassure herself as well as Tobias. “I’m that pleased for her and if anyone deserves success, it’s our Betty. And let’s face it, I’m hardly jealous since I couldn’t bear to be surrounded by all those jawing theatrical types.” At that, she gave an exaggerated shudder.

Tobias could see her point. He recalled that the actors he and Lucy had met in Bath, although very welcoming, required a constantly adoring audience.

Meg continued, “I feel a bit lost, as though a future I thought was guaranteed simply isn’t there anymore.”

Tobias nodded understandingly as she carried on, “But for the present, I’m doing well enough and it’s not like I want to stop work tomorrow. I have my regular gentlemen who keep me very comfortably, thank you very much, and I’ve more than enough funds put away for a rainy day or for when I decide to retire.”

Meg glared at the half-hidden smirk on Tobias’ face. “And no, I have not spent it all on hats,” she declared mock-indignantly and they both laughed.

She said, “Something silly happened the other day. One of my gentlemen mentioned a friend of his, twice a widower with a whole heap of children, who was on the lookout for a new wife. He thought he was doing me a good turn by referring him to me.” Meg shrugged dismissively, as Tobias had to disguise a jolt of fury.

“Not that I’d think of accepting, of course,” Meg carried on reassuringly. “I mean it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve had such an offer. I usually simper, oh, la, sir, what an honour! How kind of you to think of little old me. You know, that sort of thing. And then I don’t give it another thought. But this time,” she said, “I actually considered it for two whole seconds!” She looked at Tobias in mock horror.

She paused, having said her piece, and took a refreshing sip of wine. Tobias settled back in his chair, his hands steepled under his chin, a thoughtful frown looking almost absurd on his youthful and cheerful features.

“It seems to me, Meg,” he said, “although you may not realise it yet, that you are coming up to one of life’s crossroads.”

Meg looked up attentively as he continued, “That’s why you may be feeling this uncertainty, even discomfort. You can see that your old way of being is slowly coming to a close. Its life, or God,” he said with a smile, “giving you a nudge to prepare for a change of direction, perhaps something entirely different. You will know instantly when the right path is before of you.”

She gazed at him as if in revelation. “Do you know,” she said slowly. “I hadn’t seen it that way. I was just annoyed with myself for being miserable for no reason. Thank you, dear Tobias, I’m grateful for that. And for another thing...”

But whatever else she was about to say was forever disrupted by a crash, as the front door was flung open and an audible gasp was heard from the hallway when her bonnet was espied. The study door was given similar short shrift as a small person flung himself into the room shrieking excitedly at the top of his lungs, “Auntie Meg, Auntie Meg,” and was at her side in a flash.

Tobias winced as Jamie took the gorgeous fabric of Meg’s skirt in both undoubtedly grubby hands as he excitedly and incoherently told her all about showing his little sister the baby lambs in the fields and frogspawn in the ponds on their stroll. Meg, bless her good heart, did not flinch at this mistreatment of her expensive clothing, but leaned attentively towards the little boy.

Watching this scene, Tobias bristled with indignation at the condescending so-called offer of matrimony, casually delivered by proxy. The thought of someone as valuable as Meg being carelessly handed over in a thankless match for a mere veneer of respectability was outrageous, in his opinion. Pompous arse, he thought to himself crossly in a most un-Christian fashion.

They were joined shortly by Lucy, carrying a wide-eyed six-month-old Rose Margaret in her arms.

Once her eldest had paused for breath, Lucy gently scolded him. “Now Jamie, what have we said about coming into the study when someone is here with Daddy?”

Her son looked up at her in puzzled disbelief. “But it's Auntie Meg,” he protested, as though that explanation should be sufficient to anyone with half a brain. Tobias looked at his wife over their offspring’s head and they both shrugged, knowing that Jamie’s logic was an immovable force where his favourite person in the world was concerned.

“Shall we go through to the parlour, then?” Lucy suggested, having given up on her remonstrance.

“I’ll organise some tea,” Tobias said. When on his way to the kitchen, Tobias thankfully found one of the efficient daily maids, rather than their work-shy housekeeper, so the tea could be guaranteed to arrive in good time and even hot.

Job done, he returned to join a pleasant domestic setting. Meg was gently bouncing a delighted Rose on her knee while the women conversed. Jamie was on the floor at his mother’s feet, engrossed in a wooden puzzle for two minutes at least. Tobias sat down as the tea arrived and the adults made the best of a comfortable chat, fully aware that it would be disrupted at any moment by one, the other, or both of the children at once.

Many hours later, the household had finally settled down for the night. Tobias and Lucy were in bed alone and had blown out the candle. It was only then that Lucy asked, “Is Meg quite well?”

Tobias knew that Meg would confide in Lucy as soon as she found her in a rare child-free moment, so he said easily, “She is in very good health but her spirits are a bit uneven. That’s why she came to see me, to talk things over.”

“Oh dear,” Lucy said, concern in her voice. “What’s wrong?”

“From what she mentioned, I think she feels a little unsure about her long-term outlook,” Tobias said, putting an arm around his wife. “I don’t think it helps that Betty has metaphorically run away with the circus, or should I say a theatrical troupe.”

Knowing well of Meg and Betty’s former plans to settle down together if nothing else transpired, Lucy nodded her agreement into her husband’s shoulder. “I can understand that.”

“And something else happened that made her feel unsettled,” Tobias said and related the insulting excuse for a marriage proposal that Meg had received.

“What!” Lucy almost sat up in bed in outrage. “That’s a disgrace. The notion of our precious Meg being parcelled off without a by-your-leave to some unknown man who’s clearly too mean to pay for a nursery maid and governess? I’m appalled.”

Having vented her feelings, she relaxed back down again into his side. Tobias thought yet again that his lovely wife articulated her emotions so much better than his brief and pithy epithet.

“I mean,” she continued more calmly. “It’s not that I object to the idea in principle. I would like nothing more than to see Meg settled with someone who truly appreciated her if she so wished.” She paused, before saying, “She would make a wonderful mother, as she’s so good with children.”

“She could have one of ours if she liked?” Tobias suggested helpfully.

Lucy giggled into his neck. “You don’t mean that,” she said.

“Ask me again when Jamie bursts in here at five o’clock to tell us it’s morning,” Tobias replied and Lucy laughed again, sleepily this time. And having shared their anxieties about their dearest friend, the pair succumbed to a much-needed rest, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Buoyed by her friends and Tobias’ unexpectedly sage advice, Meg had departed from the vicarage that afternoon in a more cheerful frame of mind. But the closer she got to home, the more her pesky thoughts intruded. When she entered the cottage, she was relieved to see that the maid had put out a couple of letters for her on the hallstand.

Untying her bonnet and leaving her cloak in the hallway, she took them through to her cosy living room to read. The subject of the first missive was an uncomfortable reminder that her way of life was inevitably changing. It was from one of her admirers, who she was expecting to call the very next week.

He informed her that due to an unexpected inheritance, he was suddenly retiring somewhere up north rather sooner than anticipated. Meg scanned through all the affectionate terms and fond memories of their time together to the paragraph that really mattered.

Due to his altered circumstances, the gentleman was giving up his share in the cottage and was very generously bestowing it on Meg.

Even only a few months before, Meg would have accepted this gift with sheer joy. But now, although gratified by the gesture, she asked herself uncomfortable questions. What about the other shares? What if the co-owners decided to sell the cottage? Do I have enough put aside to buy them out? If not, where would I go?

As these anxieties swirled in her head, she put the letter aside with a sigh and opened the next, addressed in Betty’s clear, careful handwriting.

“Dearest Meggy,” it began. Meg settled down to read and a sense of relief coursed through her that this, at least, did not contain unsettling news. Betty was quite well, she informed her, and had started rehearsals in the role of yet another cheeky chambermaid in a play at the Theatre Royal in the fair city of Bristol. Her patron had set her up in a very nice property quite close to the theatre. As he was expected at his family estates outside the city, he welcomed the idea of Betty having a friend to keep her company for a week, during his absence.

Reading between the lines, Meg guessed that the Honourable Denys Mountjoy, Esq. did not want to leave his very attractive inamorata to the prey of other acquisitive suitors and counted the presence of a feminine companion as insurance against such an event.

Meg made up her mind immediately. With her gentleman no longer requiring her, she might as well spend the time at Betty’s in the bustle of the city, rather than glooming about the cottage by herself worrying about things that might not ever happen.

Taking the letter, she went to her writing desk straight away to pen a reply.

~~~

Only a few days later, Meg found herself arriving at the Bush Tavern in bustling Corn Street. Rather than Betty meeting her in person, she was very impressed that a smart carriage had been sent to collect her for the short trip to Betty’s lodgings. Sitting back in the plushly-upholstered seat, Meg felt glad to be here, especially as her trip had been met with well wishes. She had sent a note to her friends the Whitmores shortly before her departure and received a prompt reply, full of enthusiasm that the trip would be good for Meg’s well-being and sending their love to Betty.

Unrepressed by her opulent surroundings, she craned her head out of the coach window like any tourist to see where they were going, as they bowled along the quayside, over the bridge and past the cathedral with the docks to one side. The coach came to a standstill a little further along, in front of a splendid terrace of gracious houses in which her cottage could have fitted at least three times. On descending from the coach and asking where they were, the coachman explained this was the Hotwell Road.

Betty came to the door to greet her, giving her such a smacking kiss on the mouth that if the Hon. Denys were present, he might be less sanguine about the certainty of a female visitor ensuring his beloved’s chastity.

Leaving a bevy of servants to gather Meg’s bags, Betty led her to a very fine upstairs drawing-room. Meg looked at the view across the river and remarked on the spacious surroundings.

“I like it,” Betty said. “It’s more than enough for my needs and I can walk to the theatre from here. Denny wanted to get somewhere a bit more exclusive in the Hot Wells,” she said referring to the fashionable resort, “but I said it was too full of uppity folk and sick people for my taste.”

Meg was most appreciative of the splendid house, full of every possible comfort that she was encouraged to enjoy. Before long, she met Mr Mountjoy prior to his scheduled return to his lands. He expressed delight at her arrival and said all that was gracious. Meg was pleased for her friend that he was only thirty or so, very good-looking, generally pleasant in manner as well as clearly devoted to Betty. His only defect, if you could call it that, was a distinct lack of height.

Meg observed that he must conscious of this as his shoes were built up rather more than was usual for a man. This was of no regard to Betty since she was on the short side. However, Meg, being rather tall and getting accustomed to the luxuries of Betty’s home, did not want to offend a most generous host. So, she made a mental note that on the occasion of a visit from the Hon. Denys, she would ensure to be close to a chair and seated whenever he entered a room.

As Betty was soon required for rehearsals at the theatre, Meg gladly accompanied her into town to get her bearings. Her first impressions of the city were invigorating as they walked past the bustling quays with sailors of every creed and colour shouting to each other in several languages. She noted that the theatre itself, on King Street, between the fine facade of Queen’s Square and hectic waterfront was not only elegant but a convenient distance from the shops and markets.

That evening, Meg found herself with Betty and her fellow cast members in a private upstairs room in one of the ancient half-timbered inns that lined the port area. Meg made up her mind that if the evening was reduced to Thespian boasting, she would make a hasty exit. After all, there was bound to be a burly footman, employed by a protector of one of the actresses, available to walk her home. However, the room seemed to be full of all sorts of people and some of them were even interesting.

She was listening to a discussion when she gradually became aware of a gaze directed at her. Looking up, she met the very blue eyes of a young seafaring gentleman leaning against the wall, apart from all the gossip and chatter.

Over time, Meg had perfected a fixed response to men who dared to stare at her. Those who were foxed, or were under the mistaken impression that she was free for a good time received a glacial glare. This included the evidently youthful and penniless, with a few honourable exceptions, especially her dear friend Tobias. For well-heeled gentlemen of middle years, there was a discreet, encouraging glance to signal that negotiations might commence.

But this was different. There was no discernible ogle or lusty expression. The man observed her as if she were a painting or sculpture from a classical Master to be distantly admired or even worshipped. Meeting his eyes, Meg smiled. She received a smile in return, lighting up that narrow face, making it vividly attractive. Called back to the conversation by a tap on her arm, the minutes passed and when she looked around again, the sailor had gone.

During the day, while Betty was busy rehearsing, Meg took eager advantage of the nearness and variety of merchandise from all corners of the globe. She had bought more than enough for one person to carry when she spotted the most adorable collection of wooden animals in a window display that she knew Jamie would love. Impulsively, she acquired them and when coming out of the shop, was struggling with all her parcels. She was considering returning to the theatre to borrow a footman when a voice inquired, “Can I be of assistance, miss?” Turning, she saw it was the blue-eyed Merchant Service seaman from the Llandogger Trow.

She gladly handed over the most awkward of the packages.

“If you wouldn’t mind accompanying me as far as the Theatre Royal? I can get some help from there.”

The gentleman took several more parcels, gallantly leaving only the lightest for Meg. “I’ll gladly walk you back to your quarters if it pleases you?” He said with that genuine smile. “After all, I’m used to lugging Norwegian timber, so a bit of shopping is no trouble.”

As he seemed both kind and un-encroaching and knowing that Betty’s butler would swiftly depress any unorthodox amorous expectations, Meg happily agreed. By the time they crossed the bridge, Meg learned that her saviour was Alexander Marriott, usually known as Alex, a junior officer on a merchant vessel in the Northern shipping lines. Once they had skirted the cathedral and were passing College Green, Meg was cheerfully talking away to Alex, telling him all about herself, or at least what was proper.

When they reached the house, Alex politely handed over his burdens to the butler, kissed Meg’s hand and was punctiliously on his way without a hint of a leer or lewd suggestion.

Meg made her way up to her room for a well-deserved rest and pondered over her unaccustomed chattiness. Usually, her men did all the talking. After all, they paid her generously enough to at least pretend an interest in all they did. Even with her friend Tobias, in whom she confided her thoughts and feelings, it had taken a while for her to perceive the kind heart behind the initial vigorous exuberance. It puzzled her slightly as to why she was so open with a complete stranger.

Alex appeared at the actors’ soirée and again on the following night. Meg could sense that keen regard, even when her back was turned. Rather than finding this unsettling or annoying, she found the sensation oddly comforting to the point where she missed it when he was not present.

Having made Betty’s acquaintance, Alex politely accompanied the ladies home when an escort was required. On occasion, when Meg was waiting for Betty to emerge from the theatre, they took a turn around Queen’s Square together. To her surprise, Meg found herself looking forward to the self-contained sailor’s company.

One morning, the two women were seated opposite each other in Betty’s splendid drawing-room while Meg tested her on her lines.  Or at least tried to, as Betty was in the mood for gossip. “That Phoebe Betterton ought to watch herself,” Betty said. “Her titled admirer won’t be happy to see her cuddling up to some naval post-Captain and she’d better not hedge her bets with him. Probably got a wife in every port!”

The women laughed as Betty carried on, “You know what sailors are like.”

“Not all of them!” Meg said. “Alex isn’t like that.”

Betty acknowledged that hit with a toss of her head. “It’s the exception that proves the rule,” she said. “Mind you, I prefer naughty to dull as ditchwater.”

“He’s not dull, only reserved,” Meg protested and Betty looked at her friend in surprise as she was never one to take life, or men, too seriously. She was further taken aback when Meg said nothing more, simply blushed and looked down at the pile of papers on her lap. Well, well, Betty thought, that’s a turn up for the books.

“I think I like him, Bet,” Meg said very quietly, not meeting her eye.

Betty sprang off the sofa and bustled over to kiss Meg’s cheek. “If you like him, lovie, then that’s all that matters. Now,” she said, taking the script and lightly bouncing it on Meg’s head before handing it back to her friend. “Let’s get to work. These lines won’t learn themselves, you know!”

~~~

Towards the end of her stay, one wet afternoon, when there was nothing better to do, Meg was sitting in the theatre balcony in semi-darkness, half-watching the actors practice on the stage. The door to the box opened with a creak and she recognised Alex’s slim form in the gloom as he came to take the seat beside her.

“Have I missed anything?” He whispered with a smile.

“Not that we won’t hear another seventeen times,” Meg said dryly as the actor-manager halted the leading lady in mid-speech, exhorting her to start from the top once more with feeling.

They sat together quietly, aware they were alone and unobserved for the first time, the tension building between them until Meg felt Alex take her hand in his. That first touch, simple as it was, made her shiver with expectation. They turned to one another, their kisses quickly becoming eager, the sensation of being private while in public adding to Meg’s excitement.

As Alex swept back her curls to kiss that sweet spot at the join of her neck, Meg caressed his knee, her hand sliding inexorably upwards. Alex suddenly made as if to halt her progress, but Meg had already reached her prize.

She squeezed enticingly but her surging desire turning to puzzlement. The object under her hand felt oddly alien to touch, was the wrong texture altogether, and even seemed to be somehow detached from Alex’s body. In a flash, all the elements that had not quite added up about Alex suddenly meshed together in her mind in perfect harmony.

Meg glanced at Alex’s shadowy figure, absolutely still, as if expecting judgement or condemnation. Meg looked deliberately into his, or rather her, eyes. “Well,” she said brightly, “that certainly gives us options.”

The couple quickly left the theatre and walked hand in hand along the quay to Alex’s rooms in one of the newer terraces skirting the church of St. Mary Redcliffe. Once upstairs, they were on the bed in a trice, all inhibitions gone, their hands exploring the other avidly. Alex unloosed Meg’s stays with more skill than any man. Meg impatiently parted her own chemise, so Alex could admire her high, round breasts topped by those enticingly large nipples. Alex set to saluting them with her mouth without further ado, Meg tangling her fingers through Alex’s hair as she moaned her approval.

In return, Meg pulled Alex’s shirttails free from her breeches and her hands were climbing up the smooth expanse of bared skin, clutching and caressing each exposed inch. With a last, long, intense suck on Meg’s swollen nipple, Alex pulled away from Meg and clambered off the bed. “Oh no, don’t go,” Meg exclaimed in dismay.

“I’ll only be a minute, I swear,” Alex said breathlessly reassuring her with a light kiss on each nipple before disappearing into a side room, little more than a closet. Meg rapidly unlaced her gown completely and threw it on the floor, together with her petticoats. In readiness for Alex’s return, she arranged herself alluringly on the covers, wearing nothing more than her stockings.

When her new lover reappeared, completely naked, Meg was startled into a more artless pose, accompanied by a moan of erotic shock that reached her core. As Alex came towards the bed, Meg admired the long dark hair, loosened from a queue and falling over her broad shoulders, her neat breasts and tight pink nipples bobbing enticingly with each step. But what caught Meg’s attention and fuelled her white-hot passion was centred between Alex’s muscular thighs. Tied with blue ribbons around Alex’s slim hips was a white china phallus, patterned with delicate blue flowers on its stem, rearing up enticingly.

Meg scrambled onto her knees to greet this vision with a kiss. Her lips gently covered the cool ceramic tip. Alex gasped as Meg warmed the pole with her mouth, greedily sucking while looking up with lust in her eyes. Needing to explore further, Meg’s lips then wandered up over Alex’s flat belly and then anointed each sharp pink nipple as she continued to manipulate the china shaft with her hand, making sure each stroke caught Alex’s centre.

As Meg reached Alex’s mouth, the kiss went on forever. They fell back on the bed together, lost in mutual passion. Meg eventually found herself on her back with Alex lying over her. With a gleam in her eye, Alex sat up, parted Meg’s legs and slowly slid the china phallus up and down over Meg’s most sensitive regions. As Meg started to writhe in response, Alex pinched those deliciously large and prominent nipples until Meg begged for mercy.

“Please, Alex, don’t stop. Give me more, I need more,” Meg groaned senselessly pushing herself hungrily against the object of her lust.

Alex looked intently at Meg, completely in control, calmly running the tip of her organ against Meg’s swollen inner lips, over and over again until she was thrashing on the bed in an agony of desire.

“Alex,” Meg almost wailed, her body jerking in spasm. Choosing her moment, Alex centred her china shaft and firmly drove forwards. Meg’s body arched instantly, almost rearing off the bed as she screamed out her rush of release. Alex covered her body again, skin against skin, pushing and surging until they both found heaven together. Meg thought she would pass out with pleasure, as she held Alex close, whispering endearments which were lovingly returned.

~~~

With preparations for her departure underway, Meg was busy. Suddenly invigorated, and with a wealthy host to frank her letters, she wrote to the two gentlemen who owned her little cottage in Titterington, to enquire about a purchase price, if they were willing to sell.

Alex was not required to report for on-shore duties for another week. Therefore, they planned to travel to Meg’s home together since they couldn’t bear to be parted so soon. Betty had been let in on Alex’s secret, and apart from a cheerful, “Well, you could have fooled me,” was the soul of discretion.

Those first days back in the cottage were blissful, with the happy couple rarely venturing out of bed. In between bouts of dizzying lovemaking, Alex had gradually revealed her history. Her carefree tomboyish existence was sharply curtailed in her middle teens when she was abruptly sent off to visit well-connected relatives in Harrogate, expected to act like a lady and promptly put on the marriage mart.

Her profound unhappiness was observed by a sympathetic cousin, who had contacts in the Merchant Marine Service. In this way, with a little contriving, an alternative family surname was chosen and Alexandra became Alexander. “It’s more common than you’d think,” Alex said with a shrug.

“How did you keep it from your family? Meg asked idly toying with a temptingly rosy nipple.

“As far as they are concerned, their daughter married a wealthy plantation owner somewhere in the far Indies and writes the occasional letter in between childbirth,” Alex wriggled a little at her lover’s teasing touch. “It’s a calculated pretence. Since they’ve never travelled beyond York, they’re hardly likely to turn up at the ends of the earth on a whim.”

~~~

Not only did Meg have presents to deliver to her friends the Whitmores but she was also eager to introduce them to her new love, having written to tell them of her glad tidings. Tobias and Lucy seemed at ease with the suddenness of the romance and found Alex amenable in an unassuming way. Tobias noted that Meg had never looked more radiant, while Lucy saw the adoration in Alex’s eyes with every glance at Meg.

The visit lasted most of the day, rather than the polite prescribed half-hour, mainly due to Jamie stating that it wasn’t time for Auntie Meg to go home yet, each time she started to make her farewells. Only when Matilda collected him to prepare for bedtime did he permit Meg to depart.

The next morning, while the children were breakfasting messily, their parents took a few minutes grace to finish dressing in their bedroom. Lucy was sitting in front of the mirror, arranging her fichu while Tobias stood at her shoulder tying his neckcloth.

“My love,” Lucy said, out of the blue, “Is it usual for a man to have no growth of whiskers whatsoever on his chin?”

“Generally speaking, I wouldn’t say so, no,” Tobias replied evenly and their eyes met briefly in the mirror in a moment of shared awareness.

“I thought not,” remarked Lucy, and on rising to leave the room and attend to their noisy offspring, kissed Tobias tenderly.

At the very same hour, not far away in the love-nest in Titterington, Meg and Alex had awoken, entwined in each other’s arms. One gentle kiss had led to another, followed by amorous caresses of skin against soft skin until they were breathlessly ready to satisfy their desires. Meg taunted Alex by rubbing her large brown nipples against her tight raspberry peaks. As Alex rolled onto her back, Meg wedged a smooth thigh between hers, pushing it upwards to rock against Alex in a way that made her purr with arousal.

On impulse, Meg decided this was the moment to get to grips with the china toy with which Alex had repeatedly given her such ecstasy. She knelt impatiently on the bed, hurrying to tie the ribbons around her hips, only managing to tangle them as a result, to Alex’s amusement. Once the harness was relatively secure, she positioned herself between Alex’s legs, taking in the arousing sight of her beloved’s wholly exposed form, marvelling over her sculpted physique.

Despite the captivating sight and her urgent eagerness, the ultimate manoeuvre was clearly more difficult than Alex made it seem. However she tried, Meg could not quite reach her goal and ended up repeatedly poking Alex in her upper thigh, not helped by Alex’s increasing hilarity at her attempts.

Pouting with pretend disgust, Meg gave up. She tore the knotted ribbons from her hips and tossed the offending thing on the end of the bed.

“I’ll get better,” she promised the still-laughing Alex.

“It only takes practice,” Alex replied, her hand caressing Meg’s cheek fondly. “Never worry, we have all the time in the world together.”

Meg peeped at her and said in a small voice, “Do you mean that?”

“If you’ll have me?” Alex suddenly looked uncertain.

“Gladly and forever,” Meg said as she bent to kiss her lover. “Anyway, I’m determined to get the hang of that thing, if it’s the last thing I’ll do,” Meg said poking disdainfully at the discarded china object with her toe.

As they lay side by side, Alex said seriously, looking into her eyes, “I’ll marry you in a heartbeat, and vow to make you the happiest woman in the world. But the one thing I can’t give you is children, Meg.”

“Oh, we don’t have to worry about that for ages,” Meg said airily in the glow of new love where anything seemed possible. And as she nestled in her loved one’s arms, her thoughts turned idly to dear Tobias who made such charming babies. Of course, Lucy would need to be broached before any such notion could be even entertained.

Admiring the lean lines of Alex’s body and glancing at the vessel near their feet, she stifled a giggle. Since Lucy had enjoyed a little fun with Betty, she might be tempted to consider an interlude at the receiving end of Alex’s undoubted skills as a fair exchange.

~~~

The happy pair returned to Bristol, their plans for their life together solidifying with the reality of Alex’s increasingly imminent posting to sea. On hearing their announcement, Betty was ecstatic and insisted on arranging a celebratory party, which the Hon. Denys happily agreed to fund, with such a sentimental glance at Betty that Meg thought this marriage business may well be catching.

There seemed a great deal to do in very little time. Correspondence had been saved for her at Betty’s house relating that the little cottage could be hers for a reasonable sum, helped further by Alex’s insistence that she would finance the most part. “After all,” she said, “What else am I going to spend my back-pay on?” Her eyes softened as she gazed at Meg, “and while I’m far away, thinking of you in our home waiting for me, is priceless.”

Amongst such practicalities was the vital matter of bridal clothes, particularly headgear. When a splendid box arrived at Betty’s from the finest establishment in Bristol, Meg displaced the wrappings with due reverence. The hat was almost severe in its perfection, fashioned from the finest straw with the only decoration being an extravagant gauze ribbon tied into a bow.

“Lovely,” Betty said appreciatively, then added dubiously, “But isn’t it a bit plain for you?”

Meg removed the creation and carefully placed it back in its box. “I’m a changed woman, Betty,” she declared piously. And then she pinched her friend’s plump bottom, making her squeak and winked at her, “At least in some ways.”

The most important factor of the arrangements was left to Meg, as she travelled back to Titterington, or rather the vicarage in Stratton-over-Wye, on a strategic quest. When a maid ushered her into the study, Tobias looked up from his writing with a smile and as Meg took the chair opposite him, they exchanged greetings and family news.

Meg began, a little nervously, “I have a very great favour to ask of you, Tobias. Alex and I have decided to be wed and wondered if you would do us the honour of marrying us?”

Tobias’ face lit up with unalloyed pleasure, “I’d be delighted, Meg. What wonderful news! Lucy will be thrilled for you and Alex, and no doubt want to help with all your plans.”

“I know it seems rather hasty,” Meg continued.

“What does that matter?” Tobias shrugged. “Now you have found each other, why wait? And anyway,” he added practically, “as Alex is due back at sea shortly it makes perfect sense to get married beforehand. Now, where is that list of church dates?” He asked himself, scrabbling among the rolls of parchment and piles of books cluttering his desk.

Meg hesitated and began, “Tobias, before we go any further, I have to confess to you...”

Tobias immediately ceased his search in alarm and raised one arm in a flat-handed gesture as if to stop traffic, avert disaster or ward off the wrath of God. “You don’t have to tell me anything at all, Meg,” he said firmly before continuing carefully, “the thing is, whatever I might privately guess, as long as I don’t actually know, there is no reason why I can’t marry you both.”

There was a slight pause as Meg absorbed the meaning behind this slightly convoluted statement, when Tobias, waving a stray sheet of paper cried, “Eureka! Now,” he said placing it firmly on the desk so it would not escape and picking up his pen. “When exactly were you thinking of?”

By the time Alex reached the newly-purchased cottage, all devising was firmly in place. Lucy insisted that the wedding breakfast was held at the vicarage and even borrowed her mother’s cook to make sure the occasion went off without a housekeeper-induced hitch.

The happy day dawned and as far was Meg was concerned her wedding could not have been more perfect. The ceremony was intimate and personal, the meal, a joyous occasion and by the time Alex helped her into the open carriage for the drive to Titterington, Meg’s heart was full to repletion.

As the vehicle drew away, with family and friends outside to see them off, Meg stood to return the salute, with Jamie determinedly waving until the coach was almost out of sight. She finally plumped down next to her new spouse. Alex said calmly, “If I expire after the next twenty years or more, it’s comforting to know you'll have a suitor ready to step into my shoes.”

Meg laughed and leaned against Alex, “Don’t you dare even think it! I’ll have you know I expect you to be around for a great deal longer than that.”

“I’m very glad to hear it,” Alex said with a smile and their lips met in a loving pact.

The coachman checked the horses at the upcoming crossroads, looked briefly left and right and with a clear, straight road ahead smoothly galloped straight across. As the bridal pair embraced, the canopy of trees at their fullest leaf soared above them in a triumphal arch, holding the promise of everlasting summer.