Jake White The BeginningChapter 8
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It had been several weeks since the evening that Hermione spent with Jake, and which had ended up with the beginnings of her sexual education. She had been very busy between her royal duties, although now that the Queen had become a virtual recluse that had become much less onerous, and being required to spend time with her aunt. Why Aunt Honoria, despite being the Duchess of Skegness, should want to live in a draughty castle on the east coast she could not imagine. Alright, it wasn’t a castle exactly, but it was draughty and the east coat was freezing cold even in summer.
But not withstanding being kept busy, Hermione’s mind kept returning to that evening and the questions that it raised. The biggest problem of all was that she had no idea how she could get these questions answered, or with whom she could discuss them. It was a conundrum, and it simply seemed to run around in circles in her mind. She clearly couldn’t ask her aunt! She didn’t have the relationship with her maid that might, had she been like the Underwood sisters, have answered questions regarding the mechanics of sex, if not those about the relationship between women and men. None of the novels she read came anywhere near answering either question, and trying to sound out her friends had produced nothing, and her sister, who was married, had simply told her that there were things she did not need to know until she was married, hinting that whatever it was, was unpleasant, and something that women had to bear. Well, she was sure that wasn’t true! What she had experienced with Jake was far from unpleasant! And when she thought about Jake ... she experienced a frisson of pleasure that definitely ended it’s focus in that place that was ... unmentionable. It was so frustrating!
She even considered going to Bristol and confronting Jake, as if that would help!
She repositioned her cheval mirror so that she could see her back reflected in her dressing table mirror. The bruising that had been inflicted on her during that evening with Jake had faded. She shuddered at the memory. What she could see in the mirror was a slim figure, with pale skin accentuated by long wavy very dark hair, a rounded heart shaped bottom, and long well proportioned legs. Turning, her large expressive grey eyes observed themselves to be set in an oval face with a slim upturned nose, and a mouth which most men would describe as made for kissing, but lips were, at the moment, pursed, reflecting her deep thought. Her pale completion was everything that you would expect of an English rose. Her eyes moved down to breasts that were perfectly shaped if not particularly large, across an almost flat tummy to a neat triangle of dark hair. She was, she thought, a desirable woman. Indeed she had been convinced of this by the reaction of many of the male courtiers she had met.
It was whilst she was standing there that a possible answer to her dilemma came to her. She didn’t know Mary Kelly particularly well, but she was quite confident that Mary knew much more about these things, and she was the sort of woman who would be happy to share knowledge and fill in the answers to her questions. The problem was that she didn’t know how to get hold of Mary, unless ... She got herself ready to go out, picking out a dress she had purchased from Victoria’s Secrets. Somehow it made her feel closer to Jake. Silly, she thought, did he really care?
Half an hour later she entered an office in Whitehall and informed the the clerk, who was there to intercept any strangers, that she was there to see her uncle. The clerk dispatched his office boy to see if Lord Kingswood would see her. He returned a few minutes later with an invitation to follow him.
“Hermione, my dear, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Lord Kingswood rose to greet her.
“Uncle Peter, I’m sorry to bother you,” Hermione began. “But I wanted to meet with Mary Kelly and I could only think to ask you where I could find her.”
“About anything that should concern me?” he asked.
“No,” Hermione blushing red to the root of her hair, “it’s sort of...”
A look of comprehension came over her uncles face.
“And you think that as a more worldly sort of girl she’ll be able to help you over Jake?”
Hermione averted her eyes.”Yes.”
“She doesn’t think too highly of him, keeps accusing me of sending her an amateur. She’d prefer it if I sent Captain Fitzherbert to help her,” he grinned.
“Well he did a jolly good job of rescuing me,” said Hermione hotly. “Several times.”
“Yes, he did. I have high hopes for that young man, and so far he has justified my confidence,” her uncle replied. “You are aware that he has an effect on most, if not all women, even you Aunt Honoria seems to find him acceptable, and heaven knows my sister classes few if any of the male of the species to be in that class. You are aware too, that you are not without competition to become Lady White?”
“Yes, but ... the lady who manges the London branch of Victoria’s Secrets said I should talk to Victoria herself. Perhaps I will take a trip to Bristol.”
“That might be a good idea, she probably knows him better than anyone. Mary isn’t here at the moment, but I am expecting her to return shortly, and I’ll tell her you want to see her” Lord Kingswood said, thoughtfully, “although what my late wife would have thought I hate to think.”
He smiled at Hermione.
Thank you Uncle,” she said.
Whilst Hermione would have loved to charge off to Bristol, discretion suggested that it would be a good idea to go around to the London shop and talk to Mrs Wills. The cab dropped her off and Annabelle greeted her as she entered the shop.
“Back so soon, Lady Russington. How may I be of assistance?”
“I ... I wondered when Miss Underwood would be visiting,” Said Hermione, realising that she sounded more like a little girl, rather than the self assured ‘woman about town’ that she thought she was.
“I am expecting her tomorrow,” Annabelle told her with a smile. “She is usually here by mid day, if you would like to call then.”
Hermione agreed that she would return at that time the next day. She made her way home to spend most of the next twenty four hours in a state of self doubt and indecision. However she decided that she would go, and so at twelve o’clock the next day she entered the shop again.
“Lady Russington,” Annabelle greeted her. “Miss Underwood is just making herself comfortable after her journey. I’m sure she won’t be long.”
“Thank you, Mrs Wills,” Hermione replied.
It was a couple of minutes later that Victoria arrived on the sales floor.
“Lady Russington,” she greeted her visitor. “Mrs Wills tells me you wanted to see me. Nothing amiss I trust?”
“No, no, nothing like that, it’s ... it’s personal,” Hermione replied.
Victoria guided her to a more private area.
“Now, tell me about it,” she said.
“It’s about Jake,” said Hermione.
“Ah,” said Victoria. “It often is. You’re the girl he rescued aren’t you?”
“Several times,” said Hermione. “You could say he’s made a habit of it.”
“Yes,” said Victoria, thoughtfully. “Look, this could take some time, and I’m not here for long. I’m going to Manchester to see about an order for material for our product. I’m leaving directly after lunch, why don’t you come with me, it’ll give us time to talk and you’ll probably find it interesting.”
“Are you sure I won’t be in the way? I mean people will wonder what I am doing.”
“No,” Victoria told her. “We’ll say that you are helping us with sales, using your connections to further sales in the upper levels of society that you can access. Obviously you need to know more about the business. We already have Lady Bridget Harmsworth working with us. How does that sound?”
“Amazing! I love to do that anyway, it sounds fascinating,” said Hermione excitedly.
“Good, pack a bag, just your day dress and something for the evening, nothing too much. I’ll meet you at Euston at two.”
Victoria knew a little about Hermione from Jake, and she was well aware of most girls reaction to him, so she had a fair idea of the way the conversation would go. She was also pretty cute when it came to business and she could see that the cost of a train ticket and a couple of days in Manchester, hardly the place most people would go for anything other than business, might well pay dividends. Besides which Victoria was rather taken with the beautiful aristocrat, and thought there might be the possibility of pleasurable interlude.
Victoria was waiting for Hermione when she got to the station.
“I’m not late am I?” she asked.
“No, I’ve only been here a minute myself. Now, I’ve got us a private compartment,” said Victoria, waving to attract the attention of a porter.
They were settled into their compartment for ten minutes before the train started. The London and Northwestern Railway wasn’t noted for speed, but took great pride in the standard of their service. Since the train did not stop at any intermediate stations it was early evening when they reached Manchester and booked into the station hotel. During the journey Hermione had over a period of hours laid her heart bare to Victoria, explaining what had happened, and some of the things that she did not understand. Victoria had at times had to comfort her, and offered explanations that answered a great number of Hermione’s questions. Well before they reached the end of the journey they were on first name terms as though they had been close friends for years. This was a novel experience for Hermione, whose upbringing had been totally different to Victoria’s. Victoria had in turn told Hermione about her and Caroline’s life and how they had developed attitudes to life that were rather different to their contemporaries, how Jake had come into their lives, and how they had taken over the business, and then started Victoria’s Secrets, how they talked to the women on the docks, and about Caroline’s contretemps with the French captain which had Hermione in fits of laughter. She told her about Jake and Caroline’s wedding night, which Hermione could barely believe. And she also explained that if Hermione wanted more from Jake there was a definite problem. Millie. And Victoria explained that she would not countenance Millie being ‘pushed out in the cold’. Maid she may have been, but always a faithful friend.
“And we’ll be meeting another ex maid this evening who has also always been a friend,” said Victoria. “As soon as we get to the hotel we’d better change because we’re going out to dinner with Mr and Mrs Graves, at their home. They’re ordinary down to earth people, self made, no airs and graces, think you can cope?”
“I’m sure I can,” Hermione smiled. “You know this afternoon has been a ... revelation. No, I sha’n’t have any problems. Who else will be there?”
“Their two sons and their wives, Evie, who was our maid, and Harriet, Mrs Wills daughter. Evie is now their pattern designer and she is brilliant, and Harriet does technical things that I don’t understand.”
“I’m looking forward to this,” said Hermione. “And tomorrow we see what they do? I’m looking forward to that too.”
Hermione returned to London with a rather changed outlook on life. She sat at her dressing table looking at herself to see if there were any visible changes.
Dinner with the Graves had been a great success, when she was introduced as Lady Hermione Russington, Bessie Graves had started to curtsey, but she had pulled her hand to stop her and said, ‘really Victoria, it’s just Hermione, Mrs Graves’. The latter had smiled gratefully, and said she was Bessie, and then further introductions were made, and the whole evening was enjoyed by all.
She remembered that when they returned to the hotel Victoria, it was never Vicky, had kissed her goodnight, and she contemplated where that had led, had she been willing? Must have been, certainly a very different experience and very pleasurable too, and ... yes, one she would happily repeat, although what her aunt would say she hated to think.
When she returned there was a note from her uncle telling her that Mary was back in town, giving an address where Hermione would be able to find her. When she visited it was quite a hoot. She had of course had most of her questions answered by Victoria, and when she told Mary about the evening when Jake had come back to her apartment she was almost hysterical with laughter.
When she recovered Mary told her that she was returning to Ireland, so Hermione had been lucky to catch her.
There was a lot to think about, and then there was the invitation to go to Bristol and see where it was all made. She took one final look at herself and decided that she could detect no visual differences and it really was time she got dressed.
It was attractive countryside Jake thought, although the there seemed to be few people about. It was, he supposed, still the effect of the famine. More could have been done, he felt sure, to ameliorate the effects of that disaster, but few in London seemed to care, and many of the people had died or emigrated. He had a feeling that perhaps it was welcomed by some, less Irish men to cause trouble. He shook himself, surely no one would think like that? But he knew better.
They took a break at a small inn around midday. The ale served was the same stuff that he shipped to Bristol but he wasn’t very keen on it, preferring something a little lighter. However, it went down well with the working men in Bristol and provided a good revenue for the company. The driver told Jake that they would reach a small town where there was a good inn by early evening. Beyond that, he knew roughly where they were going, and thought that it would take most of the next day to get there.
The inn turned out to be quite substantial and Jake had a comfortable room. The dining room was fairly well patronised but the waiter found Jake a small table on his own. He was thinking about his order when the waiter returned with a smartly uniformed army captain. The captain had his shako in his hand.
“I’m sorry Sir Jacob, but...” the waiter began.
“Oh, no problem,” said Jake, realising the situation and getting to his feet.
He held out his hand to the other man: “Sir Jacob White,” he said.
“Captain Ellis Cockburn, Ulster Light Cavalry, pleased to meet you.” He pronounced his name Coburn.
He shook Jake’s hand.
“Sit your self down Captain. Waiter, will you look after the captain’s shako, please,” said Jake.
“Yes, sir. Will you have the mutton Sir, Captain?” the waiter asked.
“Indeed, yes,” Jake looked at the captain who nodded. “And two mugs of porter, if you please.”
“My men are bivouacked outside the town,” began Captain Cockburn. “I would normally eat what they do, not usually particularly good fare, but good for morale, but I had to come into town so I thought I’d have a decent meal. But you’re away from Dublin, Sir Jacob.”
“I’m on my way south, umm ... sort of holiday,” Jake replied.
“If you’ll pardon me, Sir Jacob, I have heard of you, and you have a reputation for attracting, shall we say, attention.” Captain Cockburn smiled.
“Very tactful, Captain! You may well be right. But on this occasion ... If I have need of your services I’ll send you a message.” Jake replied.
“Fair enough,” said Captain Cockburn, well aware that there were things that went on which a mere captain would rarely be privy to, except for being expected to tidy up the mess afterwards, of course.
They went on to spend a convivial evening and parted on excellent terms.
The next morning Jake set out on the last leg of the journey. Just after they left the town they saw where the cavalry troop were camped, and Jake waved to Captain Cockburn.
After a brief stop for lunch they arrived at their destination in late afternoon. It appeared to be a completely normal fishing village, just like thousands of others, but the few people out in the street looked neither happy nor welcoming.
The driver stopped to ask where their destination was. Jake couldn’t follow any of the ensuing conversation which was conducted in gaelic. However, the tone of the conversation was perfectly clear, they were very much less than welcome, indeed he would go as far as to say the tone was menacing.
The driver turned to Jake:
“I’ll take you to the end of the village where I can turn around, and you’re on your own, I’m not stopping here to get killed. This lot are going to crucify anyone in that house where you’re going.”
He pointed to a house just outside the village. It was a large forbidding grey stone building of some three storeys plus attics lit from dormer windows set in a steeply pitched roof.
“Why?” Jake asked, “what is going on?”
“I don’t know an’ I’m not stopping to find out.”
He stopped at the end of the village. Jake picked up his valise, felt the revolver in his pocket and got down.
“Just tell the cavalry captain that I have a problem,” he asked the driver.
“I’ll do that,” said the driver, turned and fled through the village at a gallop.
Right, thought Jake, let’s get to that house and see what is going on. He walked along the road and turned through iron gates into the driveway. Close to the house looked even more forbidding and Jake wondered what he had got himself into. The drive swept past the front of the house and disappeared around the the house to where Jake assumed there were stables and coach house. He walked up to the front door which was wide enough for two people to walk through together, and ended in a gothic arch several feet above Jake’s head. Jake reached for the immense iron knocker and swung it down producing a deep echoing sound that seemed as though it would wake the dead. Before the echo had died away he produced a second wave of sound. A minute later there was the screech of a bolts being withdrawn, then the latch clicked and the door swung ponderously open.
“Ah, the cavalry’s arrived.” said an instantly recognised figure.
“Mary Kelly! What on earth are you doing here? And would you please lower that pistol, those things can go off by accident you know,” Jake greeted her, referring to the flintlock pistol with a fully threequarter inch bore that was pointing at him.
“If you knew what you were talking about Jake White you’d know it was now half cocked. If I pulled the trigger nothing would happen. You’re surely not by yourself?” Mary asked, looking past him.
Jake looked theatrically behind him and then looked back at her.
“‘Fraid so,” he told her with a grin.
“Oh fer chrissakes, not only do they send me an amateur, but they only send one of them. You’d better come in, you’re making the door step look untidy.”
Jake stepped inside and she closed the door. The room they were in was large and high ceilinged with a dark staircase off to one side and a large fireplace on the other. Jake looked at Mary.
“That dress looks good on you,” he said, with a grin.
“D’you never think of anything else?”
“Whilst you are buying our product, I can afford to come and rescue you,” Jake wiggled his eyebrows. “Oh no, I seem to recall we provide you with dresses.”
Not, perhaps, very gentlemanly, but Mary seemed to have that effect on him.
Mary sighed with exasperation.
“Here we are under threat of death ... and if you think you’ll get anywhere with me, Jake White, you just think again. I’ve heard all about you from Anna.”
That was interesting, thought Jake, did she not know who Anna was?
“As I recall it was Anna who was making the advances there,” he replied
“Ha! That’s as maybe! Right now you can concentrate on us getting out of this situation. Come on through to the kitchen, there’s no staff and we can talk there. I might even make you a cup of tea,” Mary told him.
Jake followed her through to the back of the house and entered a large kitchen. There was an immense cast iron range that was creating a pleasant warmth. Hopefully he would now find out what the situation was.
“Tell me what is going on, Mary,” Jake asked when they were seated at the big kitchen table. “As usual I seem to have been told very little. Last time, had it not been for Fitz insisting on coming with me I’d have been lucky to get away. I seem to recall you were in a spot of bother yourself. All I’d been asked to do was deliver a letter and collect a parcel.”
Mary had a rather faraway look at the mention of Fitz.
“Ah yes, your resourceful Navy captain. I’m sure I should have managed!” Mary replied. “The situation here is very different.”
“Who lives here, or are you alone?”
“The house belongs to the Mainwarings.” Mary told Jake. “Major Cecil Mainwaring disappeared a few days ago, oh no, it must be nearer two weeks, and now the only occupants are Mrs Regina Mainwaring, her daughter Eugenie, who is seventeen, and son Cedric, thirteen. The staff have all left, scared stiff, so, with you and me that’s it.”
“So what is the problem?” asked Jake. “After we stopped to ask directions, and after what seemed to be a very unpleasant conversation, my driver wouldn’t come further than the end of the village, and after he dropped me he took off like the hounds of hell were after him.”
“Well this could be where the hounds of hell are kennelled,” Mary mused. “There’s a number of problems here, but most of them come down to a rogue priest, Father O’Shaughnessy, a real nasty piece of work, and a simple, superstitious lot of villagers. But there is also a connection to the Fenians, which is where we come in. Obviously their aim is treason.”
“But you’re Irish, do you not have sympathies with that movement?” asked Jake.
“The difference is my family is protestant, although we’ve lived in Dublin for a long time, which is how I know Maria, but we are loyal to the crown,” said Mary.
“I see,” said Jake, thoughtfully. “But what about the rest, the local problems?”
“Ah well now, there are a number of threads there,” said Mary. “There is of course the Fenian thing, but I honestly don’t think that is particularly important, apart from the smuggling which provides money for them. And Major Mainwaring did his best to put a stop to that, which is why I believe he has disappeared, most likely murdered. Most of it is organised by the priest. He has a hold over this community for some reason I can’t figure, and whatever he says they do. It’s worse than that. I’m quite sure that he was responsible for the disappearance of the Major. Mrs Mainwaring tells me he went out fishing in his boat and hasn’t been seen since. Not difficult to sabotage a small boat. And then there is Cedric. He has fits, you know, he just stops ... doing anything. After ten or fifteen minutes he comes to, but whilst he is out it’s like he is somewhere else. The Priest has the villagers convinced that Cedric is possesed by evil spirits and is responsible for anything in the village that goes wrong. But even worse in my opinion, is that the evil old bastard has a hold over the women, and they are forced to...”
“Good God!” said Jake. “Do the men not object?”
“They’re too frightened of him to do anything,” said Mary. “But we haven’t got to the full depth of his depravity yet.”
“More?” Jake showed signs of shock.
“Indeed,”Mary went on. “He has the children, boys as well as girls, go to his presbytery supposedly for bible classes and he assaults them sexually. Several of the young girls are carrying his bastards!Spawn of the devil if you ask me. So his intention I believe, is to burn this house down so that he can get rid of the rest of the family and prevent any more English coming here. Just one exception. Eugenie is the most ethereally beautiful girl you have ever seen, and he wants her. Get rid of the rest but make sure she gets out so that he can keep her.”
“How on earth have you found out all this?” asked Jake.
“I got here about ten days ago. I’d been following a trail left by Fenians, but I was picking up other rumours. When I arrived there were still some staff here, some live in and a couple of women from the village. Between what I could overhear, and what questions I could get answers to, I’ve put together the picture I’ve painted for you.”
“So what happens now?”
“They keep a watch on the place day and night, but I think that tomorrow they will make a move, so we should be ready,” said Mary.
“Why tomorrow?”
“I think it is some damned saint’s day. The villagers are so brain washed they’ll follow if he gives them some reason.”
“Are there any firearms here?” asked Jake. “Apart from the pistol you greeted me with.”
“Well, there’s a pair of those, and a fowling piece, ten gauge I think. A small amount of powder and shot. You’ve that old revolver I suppose. Oh, and the derringer, Anna told me about that.”
“I’m surprised she remembered in the circumstances,” Jake replied with a grin. “I’ve a new .38 revolver and some spare ammunition. So that doesn’t amount to much does it?”
“It doesn’t.”
“Where are the family?”
“In their rooms at the moment, I think,” said Mary. “Some sort of supper will have to be prepared. Mrs Mainwaring is completely out of it, and Eugenie isn’t much use. So I’ll have to find something. Care to help?”
“Do what I can,” said Jake. “My mother made sure that I could take care of myself, we didn’t have servants.”
They sat silently for a few minutes, both deep in thought.
An hour later they had created some sort of a supper and the family had joined them in the kitchen. Jake could see that Mary had been quite right about Eugenie, she was breathtakingly beautiful and he determined that the last person to have her would be the priest. Her Mother, Regina, also an attractive woman, didn’t seem to be entirely with the situation, but the exception was Cedric. For his age Cedric was tall and quite well built, not in the least the sickly lad that Jake had expected. He also showed a bright and lively intelligence.
Jake was introduced to Mrs Mainwaring and the children and they all sat at the kitchen table, not perhaps what they were used to, but as Mary said, she wasn’t a maid, and Jake wasn’t a butler. In any case it was warm and comfortable.
“Are you going to get us out of here?” Cedric asked Jake.
Jake glance at Mary, who was smiling.
“Miss Kelly and I are going to do our best, I think we’ll manage,” Jake replied.
“Can I help?” asked Cedric. There was a pause. “My fits only happen when I’m worrying, got too much to think about, stress they call it. My brain just stops working. But I’m sure I can help.”
“I’m sure you can,” said Jake. “You can tell me what transport you have, that will be a help to start.”
“We’ve a trap, and a phaeton, father just bought it, and there’s a beautiful pair of greys to pull it. There’s an old mare for the trap too.”
“Hmm, can you harness a pair, Mary?” Jake asked.
“No, not I,” she replied.
“I can, sir, “ said Cedric. “I used to watch the coachman, and he taught me.”
“If you’re thinking about a rush through the village tonight we’d never make it,” declared Mary. “There’s a watch out there, and he’d raise the village with a horn before we got there.”
“Can we not silence him?”
“If it was just the one we might, but it isn’t, there’ll be more than one. If you were a soldier with the right training you might be able to do it, but you’re not,” Mary told him.
“No, I was thinking that,” said Jake. “If all the village was up here tomorrow night, then if we rush them firing all the guns we have, we should get past them before they realise. The only problem will be getting to the stables without being seen.”
“That’s no problem,” said Cedric. “I’ll show you.”
He got up and led the way out into a scullery with Jake and Mary on his heels. There he opened a door to reveal spiral steps going down. On a ledge there was a lantern and a packet of lucifers. Cedric lit the lantern and led the way down the steps. There was a passage leading from the bottom, and after about fifty feet they came to steps going up. When the door at the top opened it revealed that they were in the coach house.
“My word,” said Jake, “that’s useful. Well done, Cedric! Excellent! Where are the horses?”
“Through here, sir,” said Cedric, leading the way again.
They went through to the stables where the horses that Cedric had told them about whinnied in greeting.
“So we could bring them into the coach house without going outside.” said Jake.
“Yes, you could, sir.” said Cedric.
“And is there...” Jake strode back into the coach house. “ ... space to harness them before opening the doors. Yes!”
Jake turned back to the stairs.
“I wonder why this is here,” he mused.
“Never mind that,” said Mary, ever practical. “What are we going to do now?”
“Now?” said Jake. “Now I’m going back to finish my supper.”
Jake and Mary took it in turns to keep watch during the night. Cedric wanted to join in, but Jake told him that he needed him fresh the next day and to get a good night’s sleep. All was quiet, although Jake had seen someone outside lighting a pipe, still, at least he knew they were there.
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