Miss Harcourts Guardian pt 1

Usual disclaimer,

“Lord Banchforth,” a voice said indistinctly as I sat with father’s lawyers in father’s study as they explained father’s last will and testament to myself and those of my family who remained after father’s calamitous accident, “My Lord!” he insisted.

I realised I was the one he was addressing, “Yes?” I replied.

“There remains the matter of Miss Grace Harcourt.” Selwyn Carruthers, father’s lawyer, explained, “An annuity paid for her upkeep.”

“For what purpose?” I asked.

“She was his whore of course,” Jamie my younger brother insisted.

“I cannot say sir,” Carruthers admitted, “But the payment does seem anomalous.”

“Anomalous indeed,” I agreed, “It must cease forthwith!”

It was the result of father’s drunken attempt to show our coachman how to negotiate the swerves to the bridge at Houndswell beck which had ended with his carriage wheel mounting the parapet and plunging into the beck fully fifty feet below throwing father headfirst onto the rocks that formed the Houndswell ravine where not even his unusually thick skull could save him.

Mother survived, though severely shaken and she had made arrangements to take herself off to Brighton to recuperate, and it was decided amiably enough that I should abandon my plans for becoming an architect and should instead take on the herculean task of improving the fortunes of the estate which was almost entirely bankrupt, and it was self evident that every considerable economy should have to be exercised or the whole should have to be sold, and after nigh on six hundred years of Blanchforths at Houndswell that humilliation was unthinkable.

Father’s whore faded from my mind as more pressing matters occupied my conscience, leaving my post as pupil with Mr Chippendale of Morpeth the esteemed architect, finding an assistant estate managers role for Jamie when he should have been taking the grand tour, arranging for mother’s stay at Brighton, and seeking out every slackness and inefficiency that drained the estate coffers filled my days until that August Miss Harcourt had a letter sent enquiring about my failing to pay her annuity.

“Tell her we have no further use for a whore,” I suggested and there the matter would ordinarily have ended, except Miss Grace Harcourt was no ordinary whore as I was soon to discover.

She was younger than I expected, twenty one perhaps, tall, willowy, with the high cheek bones and high breasts of an aristocrat and her long dark hair swirled like a cloak around her head as she rode into our stable yard that fateful sun kissed late August day.

It was hot, I had myself not long returned home and I was watering the horses when upon a whim I tipped a pail of water over my head to cool my bared torso for I had long since discarded my shirt and worked bare chested on the duties a servant had until recently performed.

“You,” she said abruptly to me as she swept to a halt, “Take my horse,” she ordered as she prepared to dismount and then she demanded, “Where is Lord Blanchforth?”

“At your service Miss,” I said and at once her whip snaked out lashing my bare chest and drawing blood.

“Keep a civil tongue, you oaf!” she said, “Or it will be the worse for you, now send for Lord Blanchforth!”

I just stared, how dare she. “Fetch Lord Blanchforth!” she insisted and struck me again.

“And who should I say awaits him Miss.” I asked.

“Miss Grace Harcourt,” she snapped.

I just stared, she rode astride like a man, her legs splayed obscenely by the beasts considerable girth, her skirts bunched up, before her, “Damn it you fool, oh very well help me down, I shall find him.”

I stepped forward, “Ugh don’t get that blood on my skirts you oaf,” she snapped as I came too close and the blood trickling from my chest where the whip had drawn it threatened to soil her.

But I paid no heed, I merely took her in my arms and she screamed, “Unhand me!” as the scents of horse and woman combined and my manhood reared.

“Unhand me I say!” she cried, as I lifted her clear of the horse, “Put me down!” she demanded as I held her close, her warm soft breast held close to my bare chest, her breath upon my cheek like the wind of an angels wings.

“Lord Blanchforth’s whore, well, well, well.” I chuckled, “Well I can see why he was smitten, and it seems a shame to waste a journey,” I explained and instead of putting her on her feet I swung her over my shoulder.

“Unhand me you oaf!” she cried, “Set me down this instant!” and the like she shouted as I carried her to the stable, to the nearest freshly strawed stall and set her down to lay upon her back where a whore should be and I grasped her skirts and raised them to her chin to appraise her wares.

“Unhand me!” she demanded, as she tried to get up but fell back showing the voluminous pantaloons below her skirts, voluminous and easily removed, as I demonstrated by ripping them from her with a single motion, before placing my boot squarely on her belly as I released my belt and slipped my breeches to my knees to release my straining and recently un exercised prong, “No fetch Lord Blanchforth!” she shouted, “Rape!”

“If rape is what you desire Lord Blanchforth’s whore,” I exclaimed, “Then raped you shall be,” I averred, “It’s at least a month since I last rode a whore, and I own that is too long.”

She slashed the whip over my buttocks twice before I could pry the whip from her grasp, and by then my knees were between her knees and her skirts were up around her neck and her underskirts and with the least effort her mounds were released and with her voluminous silk breeches torn aside there was revealed to me the sweet pinkness of her lower lips, though I own for a whore the patch of dark hair through which they peeped was a distinct surprise.

Yet for all this Father rose in my estimation, I had no idea he had such fine taste in whores, for some reason I expected an older and certainly a more timid maid, not such a fine specimen, but perhaps that was her flaw, a foul temper or perhaps there was some hidden flaw, uneven-ness about the udders, or a fat belly tightly corseted, but that could wait, for now a simple pronging would suffice, the stripping and whipping could wait.

“Rape!” she cried, as she continued to protest and struggle.

“Two guineas now shut up!” I offered, but she continued shouting and wailing even as I forced myself upon her.

She squirmed and twisted as if to escape but I was too strong for her by far and little by little she stilled but always twisted when I let her hand go to aim my manhood at the sweet soft pinkness of her womanhood yet with time I had her pinned sufficient and his tip was against her and with solid force I began to try to penetrate into her very loins.

But I found her unwilling, she clenched her cavern tight against me with well practised whore muscles denying my entry therein until I pulled away and explored with my fingers. Her cavern seemed surprisingly dry which I suppose I should have thought odd in a whore, and tight, and her slot was oh so tight, although as my fingers entered easily enough and with two or three fingers inside and my thumb upon the nub at the apex of her slot so straightway she began to moisten.

I released her hands that I might explore her slot but with her own hands so released she attacked me and pummelled my back, so I grasped my appendage firmly and thrust mightily to overcome her musculature, and with no more than a half dozen strong thrusts to overcome her during which my own juices oozed forth to allowed sufficient lubricity, I found myself fully sheathed within her and though throughout she beat her hands upon my chest and protested that she was no whore such was my excitement that another dozen thrusts and I was spent, my seed flooding her innards like a burst dam sending me straight to heaven.

“My eye but you’re good,” I said when I was spent, and disconcerted that she was strangely silent I asked, “How do I compare with Father?”

“I know not, I am not a whore,” she insisted though it was manifest from the way she milked me so swiftly to release that not only was she indeed a whore but among the very finest that I had ever sampled.

I looked closer, tears were flooding down her cheeks, “For heavens sake,” I chided, “What on earth is wrong?”

“You defiled me!” she said like I was an imbecile.

“So wash yourself in the horse trough,” I suggested, “I said I will pay and you’ll get your two guineas, have no fear,” I added, “Indeed stay for dinner, dine with the servants and when I am recovered perhaps you can earn another guinea.”

She slapped my face, the sting roused my emotions, I should need no respite, my manhood reared already.

“Damn it,” I exclaimed in my discomfiture, “I’ll take my pleasure with you again, now disrobe!” I insisted, “Disrobe now I say!”

She stared at me as if stunned, I pulled her dress as an indicant but it tore in my grasp so I tore it again and it tore away, and I tore away in turn her shift and her under-shift until she was bare from neck to womb and her form revealed as near to complete perfection as I had ever seen,

Still she stared in horror or anticipation frozen into inaction as once again I approached but quite suddenly just as I sought to guide my prong within her, so she wriggled and squirmed and tried to escape beating her hands against my chest once more and writhing such that it was all I could do to pin her to the ground before I finally managed to send my prong slipping warmly and wetly within her tight cavern even as she scowled at me.

She grimaced and I do believe she tried to bite me but I kept her pinned down and began to thrust against her as I took my pleasure, harder and faster until her whorish instincts took over and she thrusted against me in turn griping and milking me to hasten my release, wrapping her legs around me as in a flurry of dreamlike floating upon pinkly fluffed clouds in the very heavens I flew with the angels and swooped through the clouds riding now upon a winged elephant as my milk erupted within her, gushing in undiminished force entirely and seemingly replenished since the first union.

“My god you’re a miserable one,” I chided as having achieved my release and hosed her innards with my seed I collapsed upon her in exhaustion.

This time the end of our union was the signal for her to squirm from me, and after crawling back she rose to her feet grasped her torn raiments to her and bolted to her horse which she mounted with a mighty bound and having wrenched the reins from the rail she slapped his rump with her hand as she had lost her whip and charged forth recklessly towards the gate.

“Miss Harcourt, your fee!” I cried after her.

“I shall have you hung when Lord Blanchforth is informed,” she wailed and with a flurry of torn skirts, flailing hair and naked breasts she was gone.

I wandered into the house, sated, yet desirous, the act had been perfection if brief but the straw was not perfect, I imagined her laid on the soft down and horsehair of my bed, and considered that perhaps she could have a servant’s room and attend me when I desired, but then the smell of roast pork took my mind to other pleasures and she was forgotten.

But not for long, for that same evening there was a commotion and a horde of horses clattered down our driveway, I looked out to see Col George Melchett of the Dragoons leading a troop of his men towards the house. I knew the Colonel as a Lieutenant when I were but a boy and so I went straightway to greet him.

“John!” he exclaimed, “good to see you, how are you, is his Lordship here?” he asked with almost impatient rapidity..

“If you mean father, sadly we buried him several months since, I am Lord now.” I explained.

“Oh, you have my deepest sympathy,” he said, “But that being the case we have come for an ostler,” he declared, “Young chap, twenty maybe, slight but well muscled, dark hair, it seems he ravished Miss Harcourt this very day, We have a warrant signed by the Lord Lieutenant.”

“Come inside,” I suggested, “You do know this “Miss” Harcourt is a whore, do you?”

“Indeed?” he queried, “Are you sure you have the right young lady?” he queried.

“Undoubtedly, father paid her an annuity for her services.” I explained, “And I sampled her myself this very afternoon.”

“You sampled her, it was you, not an Ostler?” he asked awkwardly.

“Indeed,” I agreed, “What did she say?”

“You are not protecting your servant are you John?” he asked inquiringly, “The master servant bond can be very strong.”

“I am not a child Colonel,” I countered, “I am twenty five summers old.”

“Miss Harcourt said when she went to see her guardian Lord Blanchforth she was ravished by an Ostler.” the Colonel stated, “An uncouth fellow unwashed and deporting himself shirt-less with his chest bared as he went about menial duties.

“Well then,” I explained, “Guardian, it’s like as to saying one is a wench’s uncle do you see, euphemisms, she was my father’s whore and as he was her ‘Guardian,’ or master and as they are not blood related and she of marriageable age then where is the offence,” I paused, “For with father departed I am her guardian now.”

The colonel came down from his horse to ponder the matter, “My eye that’s a tricky one,” he said, “But yes, she must follow your bidding even to the bedchamber.”

“You have proof of this Guardianship?” he asked.

“Yes, in my father’s papers., come to his study and I will show you,” I offered and we went along to the small room where I found the annuity demand and other such papers, including the last years payment.

“Well, it seems in order,” he said, “I would never have said she was a whore but perhaps your father had different taste, but I’ll say good day sir, and inform the wench her claim is misfounded.”

“I thank you,” I replied, “Oh and have her publicly whipped for false allegation would you please?” I asked.

He looked at me with something approaching contempt and hatred for you see he had been taken in by the whore that was Grace Harcourt and believed her to be a sweet young girl not the scheming whore I knew her to be. “Yes.” he said curtly, “My Lord,” As if annoyed at my order, for having known me when I were a boy and he a Lieutenant my station as Lord and in rank superior to his own must have seemed an humilliation..

“If you will wait a few moments,” I said on an impulse, “I shall join you!”

“No, we must away, but follow at your leisure,” the Colonel insisted and he turned and strode away.

I do believe the Colonel would have taken his pleasure with her rather than whip her as propriety demanded had I not followed, and followed at some gallop having first to find Boggins from the farm to follow with the cart and to saddle my own horse before riding out and I barely caught them before they rode through the archway into the old Abbey grounds where the barracks were situated.

Miss Harcourt waited expectantly in the small doorway under the huge towering granite walls of the old Abbey, now Barracks and as we approached so she came across the cobblestone courtyard to meet the Colonel, “That’s him,” she exclaimed and pointed at me, “Why is he not in chains?” she demanded.

“Ah no,” Colonel Melchett explained, “It seems you mis led us,” he explained, “It seems your calling is that of a common whore.”

“I am not a whore!” Miss Harcourt protested, “Lord Blanchforth is my guardian!”

“Prove it!” Melchett insisted.

“It is in my papers,” she said, “I have a copy here,” she insisted and dew a slip of paper from her purse.

“It’s true right enough,” Melchett said as he read it confirming what I had laid before him, “Oh dear.”

“So arrest him!” she cried.

“Miss Harcourt I am afraid the elder Lord Blanchforth has passed away and his son,” he said indicating me, “The present Lord Blanchforth, is now your guardian.”

“Arrest him!” she insisted.

“He is your guardian, I cannot arrest him.” Melchett insisted.

“But you can most certainly arrest her,” I averred, “See what she did to me with her whip,” I exclaimed and unbuttoned my shirt to show the lacerations.

“Did you do this?” Melchett enquired.

“Yes!” she said, “He ravished me.”

“As is his right as guardian,” Melchett explained and he turned to me, “Shall I arrest the girl?”

“Indeed, take her hence,” I insisted, “I shall repair to her lodgings and bundle up her things as it seems she has over stayed her welcome and the rent remains unpaid.”

“No!” she wailed, “For pities sake ’tis I who have been wronged.”

“You wounded me you harlot, teach her some manners Colonel if you please,” I suggested, “Have her whipped in the town square tomorrow morning for it is market day and so shall not go unremarked,” I insisted and I went to find Groggins and then proceeded to the address Miss Harcourt had given in her letter to father.

The lodging turned to out to my surprise to be a well appointed apartment of two bedrooms and a sitting room where Miss Harourt had lived with Miss Jenkins, her servant and companion whom it seemed was also in Father’s employ and she too was paid an annuity due on the first day of August each year .

Mrs Boxtree the proprietress who owned Miss Harrcourt’s rooms lived below and quickly came at my bidding.

“I have come for Miss Harcourt’s things,” I insisted.

“Those will remain until my rent is paid,” Mrs Boxtree insisted, “Three guineas she owes me!” she said, “And a guinea she borrowed from poor Miss Jenkins.”

I had taken more than three guineas worth of pleasure with Miss Harcourt so it was only fair to pay the woman, “And this Jenkins?” I asked.

“Upped and left this very morn to take up a position with the Misses Morely, very respectable ladies that pay when they are supposed to, not like Blanchforth,” she said, “Took all her things she did leaving Miss Harcourt alone, so she took Mr Thomas’ horse and flew to Lord Blanchforth’s to demand payment.”

“A hanging offence!” I exclaimed, “A horse thief!”

“Mr Thomas would not complain, he would as likely say he gave her permission,” Mrs Boxtree insisted.

I paid the three Guineas and we loaded the cart and made our way back home where we deposited the load at the stables intending to sort it through and indeed Groggins commenced sorting Miss Harcourts clothing, “Mighty odd whore sir if I may say so sir,” he commented.

I looked at her wardrobe, it was most peculiarly dull and unexciting, especially the under-things, “Well she fornicated like a whore,” I insisted, “Do you know I’d rather bang some respect into her with my own prong than have Melchett’s rabble do it,” I declared, “I do believe I shall ride out first thing in the morning and fetch her back.”

I was too late, I was delayed, I slept the sleep of the sated and by the time I awoke and roused myself breakfasted and arrived at the market place she was already hoisted up upon a platform a yard or so high in the very centre of that marketplace and supported struggling betwixt two swarthy militiamen with a sergeant there and the colonel as they held her beside the stocks and the whole surrounded by a heaving mob braying for her humilliation.

I tried to force my way through the throng but I was attired for practicality not for ostentation and being a young fellow none would give way, so I stood and waited for the hubbub to subside, but Miss Harcourt with her hands bound behind her and held by a militiaman at each arm she could do nothing as the sergeant prepared to bare her.

Not swiftly, but like an actor he played to his audience, tempting, goading, brandishing his gleaming dagger before he began cutting away Miss Harcourt’s garments one by one, first her shawl which could easily have been undone was hacked through, then her dark green demi coat was sliced through,at front and down the both sleeves so it could fall free. Then her green dress, which would have unfastened down the back was cut through down the front all the way from neck to hem so it gaped open showing her petticoats.

The sergeant was an expert with the dagger which must have been as sharp as a razor so easily did it slice through the cloth and he had the eye of a tailor knowing just where to cut to split the right part that the cloth might fall away with the least effort and across the shoulder and down the outer arm sufficed with the slit down the entire frontage for her green gown to fall away entirely.

She stood a while in her white underthings, angry beyond measure, tears streaming form her eyes protesting, “This is an outrage!” and “You shall hang for this,” with not a hint of contrition, her head up and challenging where it should have been bowed in shame.

“Do you wish to appeal for leniency?” the Colonel asked, “Shall I ask if Lord Blanchforth will relent?” he asked, “For heavens sake girl show some contrition or it will surely be the worse for you!”

“I have been wronged!” she protested,”Desist!”

“Carry on Sergeant!” the Colonel replied and with a single cut the sergeant split her undergarments from neck to waist baring her back from corset to the nape of her neck, and then with a contemptuous want of finesse, he simply tore the garment away in its entirety baring at once her mounds which while not of the first rank as regards size and the ability to feed a brood of infants were entirely acceptable, indeed one might say perfectly formed if shape and not sheer volume were the yardstick.

“Aggghhhh,” Miss Harcourt screamed with the realisation that her teats were displayed to all, and not just those with the where-with-all to pay, “No not that, please I am uncovered!”

“Hush,” the Sergeant counselled, “You shall be bared entirely before I have done with you.”

“Nooo!” she wailed even as his knife cut through the top of her petit-coat and loosened it fell revealing her voluminous bloomers which he then set about with his knife, splitting the outer sides of the legs before ripping them away from the middle, his hands between her legs, which revealed the tangle of black hairs on her belly and her privateness which nestled beneath.

She stood now in her silk stockings corset and her boots, and I’ll wager not a single man jack present seeing the same was devoid of an extension, no wonder father was smitten, indeed my own manhood extended uncomfortably provoking me to adjust my dress as I watched so he might lay upwards on my belly and not uncomfortably down my breeches leg.

Next the sergeant gave an order and she was pushed towards the stocks, her arms pulled through the arm places and her head bowed through the centre hole and as she was held so the sergeant pulled the top of the stocks down over her and he pulled the latch down and secured it with a huge pad-lock trapping her even when the militiamen stepped away.

She was bent from the waist now, and in concert the militiamen took her boots and pulled them and her stockings from her legs leaving her barefoot and attired only in her corset but for a short time only as the sergeant sliced through the stitching of her corset and it fluttered to the ground.

The crowd gasped, the expected bulging of her constricted abdomen was entirely absent, and her firm taut belly was revealed, strangely so for whore or gentlewoman, more like the statues of ancient Rome than any living soul.

Father again rose in my estimation, what a flower had he plucked, or was it nurtured, yes perhaps he had intended her for his future whore, maybe he had others in addition, it would certainly explain the paucity of collateral in the estates coffers if he had a habit of the same.

But for the moment it was for the sergeant to administer the chastisement and so did he proceed to do, with a single whip, not the cat o’ nine tails beloved of the admiralty, no not that brutal flayer but a tool of great delicacy wielded with such skill that each blow curled around and smote both her bared back or buttock and the flailing end smote her tenderest parts as it flailed.

Teats and mounds and her private parts, indeed the very lips of her slot were flayed by the tip of that flailing whip, bruising and enraging them such that far from fighting to keep the rampant militiamen from her she actually desired the militiamen to mount her to allay the discomfort.

But though she desired it utterly she would not confess it and protested endlessly.

The crowd was now clustered around behind her so they could view her humilliation, her slot and her behind the object of their curiosity, as stripped and secured in the stocks she bore her chastisement with the worst if grace and the least contrition, blaming me and the Colonel and every other thing except her own lewd debauchery for her situation as the sergeant turned her lily white back to a mass of purple bruises and bleeding red stripes while she cursed me and sobbed ceaselessly.

Finally as I wormed my way close she saw me and demanded, “Now what indignity shall you heap upon me?” she demanded, “See my tormentor, the noble Lord Blanchforth the rapist and despoiler of the chaste!”

“I desired your services,” I explained, “Or I did before I saw those ugly gashes.”

“Good, then I pray for more lashes that you may be permanently repulsed!” she snapped.

I saw Colonel Melchett approaching, “Still she insults me, I’ve a damned good mind to thrash her myself.” I insisted.

“It is entirely your decision,” he affirmed, “But the men had hoped you would leave her that they might use her in their turn this night.”

I thought of her when still pink and unblemished, and looked again at her all bloodied yet unbowed, her hair all cascading like an angels except black not golden.

“No, she deserves it but I have need of her, as a servant,” I explained, “With proper chastisement she might one day make a scullery maid or something of equal utility,” I observed, “But still she looks the part of a whore, Sergeant, hack her hair away if you please, she is a base servant and should look like one.

“Colonel, can you not save me from this monster?” she asked despairingly,”It is barely a week until my majority,” but he shook his head.

“Lord Banchforth is your guardian,” he said, “Until you are twenty and one years you must obey him in all things.”

She hung her head, “Indeed,” she sighed and she stood bare chested challenging me, “Shall you not have my head shaved entirely and sell my hair for a wig?”

“No, hack it like a boy,” I said, “And trample the remains in the mud, I offer you a way to salvation as a maid in my house, be so good as to humour me!” I ordered.

Her look un nerved me, “Her hair sergeant if you please!” I ordered and when the Colonel nodded he left off the whipping and with a few slashes he chopped away her curled tresses and let them fall useless in the mud.

A hush fell over the throng as they saw she was indeed one of them, not a bewigged noblewoman as they first thought, no her hair had been her own and now it was hacked away she was just like any of them, a sister or daughter and they felt aggrieved.

“I never thought that the son of such a sweet man could be so evil,” Miss Harcourt muttered in her shame and agony.

“Enough my Lord, the throng grows surly,” Col Melchett advised.

“So be it,” I agreed, have her taken down and let her dress in whatever she has that I may take her home to serve my mother and myself,” I ordered and I watched as they freed her and she climbed down from the staging while collecting up her torn raiments and winding them around herself to hide her shame

“Shall you lead her home on a lead rope like a prize cow?” Col Melchett asked derisively.

“No, I am too impatient, she shall share my horse,” I declared and I went to find my horse and behind followed Melchett, his men and Miss Harcort all in a melancholy line, she sorrowed at her humiliation and they sorrowed that the chance to sample her charms had been cruelly snatched away.

My horse was tethered still but I thought she would refuse to mount it but when I threatened to mount her in the street if she defied her she climbed reluctantly up and sat before me, and with a view of her shapely neck before me I set off home to set her on the road to servant hood though in truth, were I honest, I could scarcely wait to get her bedded.

We made haste, in truth I galloped my steed faster than was prudent but the anticipation was like a drug spurring me on to recklessness, and barely stopping to tether my steed I dragged Miss Harcourt into the house and up the back stairs to my bedchamber.

Indeed it was in consideration of her bloodied back that led me to drag her unwillingly to my bed chamber and throw her on the bed, instead of conjoining among the filth of the stable floor, I slipped her torn dress from her and when she was naked I threw open the bed covers and undressing myself I joined her upon the soft linen sheets.

She defied me, lying close kneed, but I soon wrenched her legs apart to observe her parts all red and moist with anticipation and then I speared her.

She gasped at the violence of my insertion, I ceased immediately, “What is wrong, have I injured you?” I asked, “A splinter, what?”

“You,” she said, “You ravished me you monster.”

“Indeed, should I have paid first?” I enquired as I aimed my manhood at her slot and with the least of resistance I entered her once more, more decorously this time than hitherto I own, “Is that better?” I asked.

“A fraction,” she said, for my attention had diminished considerably her discomfort from the whipping her soft womb lips had endured,”I shall bear it stoically if I must,” she said and she closed her eyes.

Suddenly she smiled, “Make the most of me my lord, for soon it shall be my birth day and I shall be rid if you for ever.”

“Is that your wish?” I asked.

“Indeed!” she agreed, “I should rather anything than to remain here with you.”

“Then I have no objection,” I insisted, “And until that time you shall repay my father and repay me by toiling in a whore house, the Rose and Crown or Red Lion or perhaps the famous Maison L’oiseaux. Madame L’oiseaux’s establishment where I take my pleasure, or did when funds permitted.”

“I am not a whore!” she protested, “How dare you!” she scowled, “How dare you suggest I become one of Madame L’oiseaux’s harlots!”

“Oh please spare me the false protestations!” I suggested, knowing Madame L’oiseaux’s establishment was a whore house of the first rank catering only to those of noble birth and eschewing completely the filthy diseased lower classes as customers, and that she should be honoured that I considered her suitable for such an establishment

With little enough protest I rolled her onto her back again and explored with my fingers and when she was moist and her muscles had relaxed I entered her and though the passion of our first union had gone I ploughed her pleasantly enough though her face was twisted to a scowl throughout the proceeding.

She lay still afterwards and watched as I rose and dressed, “I have my duties to perform,” I explained, “Rest a while.”

I left her but returned to bring her a servant’s smock to wear and so apart from dinner where I had her come down and eat with me and supper when again she joined me again I did not see her again until I retired to my bed.

“I expected you earlier,” she said as she watched me disrobe,

“I had much to do,” I explained, and I yawned, “I’m tired.”

“Whoring?” she asked, “Am I not sufficient for your rapacity?”

“No I have been doing the ostlers work and the butlers and the clerks and every other man jacks on this damned estate,” I assured her, “Now stoke the fires burning within my breast,” I suggested, “Tell me, how does my cock compare with father’s?”

“I know not!” she exclaimed and then she shook her head as she realised I did not believe her and she instead said “Poorly, disappointingly so.”

“Oh!” I exclaimed in disappointment, “I see.”

“He was a real man,” she said, “The best of men where you are the basest,” she added and she scowled at me.

“Am I that repugnant?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said unequivocally, “Entirely.”

“Then you prefer the debauchery of the whore house?” I asked.

“I would prefer the fires of hell to another night with you Lord Blanchforth,” she replied.

“Oh, then so be it!” I agreed, “So be it!” I turned away from her, “Come the morning I shall find you a suitable situation as a whore.”

Anger filled me but weariness overwhelmed me and quickly the darkness engulfed me and I slept dreamlessly until the grey light of morning roused me.

My waking roused her, she was laying against me, and arm across my chest, “I was cold,” she explained awkwardly as she moved away from me.

“Would not the honest toil of the servant be more godly than life as a whore?” I asked kindly.

“I am not a whore!” she insisted, and added with childlike naivety, “In time I shall marry well and be entirely happy, and I shall leave this place with joy in my heart when my majority is reached!”

“Am I so repulsive?” I asked earnestly, “That you would prefer to serve all instead of serving me alone?”

“Indeed,” Miss Harcourt replied, “For Madame L’oiseaux shall recognise that I am no whore even though you can not.” but for now, if you wish to use me as a whore I can not prevent it, indeed, I shall lie abed all day awaiting your pleasure,” she insisted.

“Then to Madame L’oiseaux you shall be sent,” I insisted.

“And I shall look forward to it,” she assured me.

I left her to her day dreams, if she was determined to return to debauchery then so be it, I understood father had taken her in hand and provided her with rooms for his pleasure and indeed I should have continued the arrangement had funds permitted, but the best I could in all reasonableness offer her was a post as a maid, though I did let the thought of marriage slip into my consciousness it would never do, I had in all consciousness to marry well that my wife’s dowry might save the estate, so a post with Madame L’oiseaux was the best I could offer indeed even arranging a post there would entail all the persuasion I could apply.

“How did you come to be father’s ward?” I asked.

“Oh no, no questions, you may use me, but no questions.” she replied, so I rose and dressed and went to breakfast.

“Do you not desire me when I do not resist?” she asked as she joined me at the breakfast table, not in the servants kitchen where Cook and Bessie the maid now toiled alone save for the gardener handyman Giles, but as if she were a guest.

“No, I merely desire release, you are simply a vessel into which I expel,” I said and she turned on me,

“I have tried,” she said, “To hide my repugnance, but you are truly evil!” she snapped and rushed away,

I followed, “Come back!” I ordered and when she did not I chased her into the passage and then to the sitting room where I caught her and grabbed her, “You must eat, for there is little enough of you as there is,” I insisted, “Eat with Cook and Bessie if you prefer, ” I offered but she struggled rousing me.

“Unhand me,” she cried, but her struggles had aroused my manhood, and in a moment her servant’s smock was raised and she was bent over before me and as I bared her so her arousal was manifest as moisture glistened in silent invitation around her parts, “No!” she said but with no conviction.

“No!” she said again as I released my belt and my breeches fell to release my manhood which I eased gently against her bottom’s brown bud before easing his purple tip between her sweet moist pink folds and pressing onwards into her womb.

“No!” she said but feebly as I began to plough her awkwardly as she bent from the waist, “Let me grasp the chair back,” she said, “Before we both fall,” and so still coupled together we shuffled up to the chair and which she grasped and when she pronounced herself ready I began to plough her once more.

This time she was true to her calling as I grasped and twisted her teats so she moaned and cried out to inflame me to greater and greater efforts and when the time came for release she pretended she too was inflamed like all the finest whores do, and afterwards as I stilled and she stayed bent over she panted breathlessly and perspiring as if she had enjoyed fornicating as much as I.

“My eye, I knew you were a well versed harlot, but where on earth did you learn to do that!” I gasped.

She blushed crimson, “But my Lord, I merely acquiesced it was your instigation,” she replied.

“And Sodomy, had I desired that?” I asked.

“I would ask that you spared me, but if needs be I shall bear it,” she replied anxiously.

“And suckling my prong,” I asked, “Shall you do me that service when the curse is upon you?”

“Indeed, and I shall bite him off at the very root and swallow him whole,” she cautioned in jest I thought.

“And I shall strangle the life from you,” I threatened playfully.

“A fair exchange,” she agreed, “So have you had your fill of me?” she asked.

“Indeed no!” I replied, “There must be a thousand ways you know to satisfy me!”

“Oh no, in your estimation I am merely an empty receptacle for your filth,” she replied, “It is for you decide in which manner ’tis done.”

“Then I shall risk your teeth,” I suggested.

“Surely not?” she queried, “I have very sharp teeth.”

“Then lie on your back,” I instructed.

“Indeed an excellent choice, in your bed perhaps?” she goaded me her confidence growing apace.

“Yes, yes my bed,” I agreed reluctantly, “And let me see you.”

“Of course, my lord,” she simpered deviously, “Come,” she said and she held out her hand to lead me to my bed chamber wherein she undressed completely and showed herself to me shamelessly.

“Do you like what you see?” she asked, knowing full well I was completely enraptured.

“Yes, now on your back,” I ordered.

“Like this,” she asked with a smile as she deported herself lewdly legs astride and indeed held the very lips that led to her womb aside with her dainty fingers such that it took a mere instant to disrobe myself and spear my manhood deep oh so deep into her soft yielding flesh.

She even held me in her arms briefly, and I thought to kiss her but such is most ungentlemanly where whores are concerned, so we just fornicated lewdly with her returning each thrust I made in complete equality until dreamily I obtained my release.

“Am I really your only consort?” she asked after we stilled.

“Indeed,” I said.

“Liar, if I acquiesce you will dismiss Bessie?” she decided, “And I shall never escape you, no I shall prefer the whore house.”

“Then so be it.” I declared.

“Perhaps?” she said coyly, “I might be more use.”

“Where?” I asked.

“Seeking efficiencies,” she said.

“What know you of such things?” I asked.

“I learned household accountancy at my school,” she said proudly.

“Where?” I queried, “Whore’s school?”

“Beast!” she snapped and that was an end of our conversation, though later my younger brother James arrived unexpectedly and I introduced him to Miss Harcourt, “Jamie have you met father’s whore?”

“Oh,” she said, “I am your brother’s ward, not his whore.”

“Indeed you are my whore, disrobe now and comfort my brother,” I ordered.

“No, no I shall not, I shall not!” she insisted.

“Well if I am that repulsive!” James said with a laugh, “But I do not consort with whores, so the conflict does not arise,” he declared.

She looked most relieved, which surprised me, and when we came to dine there was something different about Miss Harcourt, it was her hair, she was so imbued with whoredom that she had tidied her hair into a very comely short style, such that she might entrap poor Jamie and indeed had found out her own attire from her lodgings and sat down quite the young gentlewoman again when she should have been serving at table not dining thereat.

Then came a long evening with James whereby she tantalised him and held conversations on a wide variety of subjects the breadth if which surprised me there followed a long night where I awaited Miss Harcourt’s arrival but she slept elsewhere and I spent the night unrelieved.

“So,” she said, as she entered the room as the first rays of sunlight streaked by bed sheets, “When am I to be released into Madame L’oiseaux’s care?” she demanded.

“Take break fast and I shall make the arrangements,” I insisted.

“Good!” she snapped.

I went to take my own break fast but I had no appetite, and instead I made my way to town and in particular to see Madame L’oiseaux.

Her house stood proud in the high street, not hidden down a back alley but as proud as any town hall or hotel, its pillared portico attended by a liveried man that the peasantry should be not ejected but prevented entirely from even approaching such was the quality of gentleman that was to be encouraged, even Lieutenants and captains of some regiments were routinely denied entry as being too common, only guards officers being almost guaranteed entry and even then not the welsh.

I had no such difficulty as a regular customer and Sifford the doors-man greeted me warmly, “Madame is still abed My Lord,” he said deferentially, “But Phoebe will attend you.”

Phoebe La Bank, Madame’s lieutenant so to speak attended me, even though it was morning she was painted and powdered to perfection and attired in a rich gown split to the thigh which she deported to allow unobstructed views of her shaven womanhood as she sat down as she had no underskirt to hide the gap between stockings and corset nor pantaloons nor anything else, and indeed her womanhood was shaved entirely clean and then rouged to rouse the most impotent and timid of men.

“Monsieur ‘Arcout, and what may ah do for you?” she asked in a ridiculous french accent though she hove from near Chesterfield as I knew well.

“I have a whore for you,” I attested.

“A whore, your cast off?” she enquired, lapsing into her native dialect.

“Father’s mistress,” I explained, “Twenty one all but, comely, slim, evil tempered, haughty,” I declared, “I seem to have been unknowingly paying her board and lodging since father passed on.”

“Have you tired of her?” she asked, “She sounds young enough for your needs if I may say so my lord.”

“She disliked me at sight,” I admitted, “Though when pressed she submits readily enough but I own she is far more trouble than she is worth.”

“And who is she?” Phoebe asked.

“Grace Harcourt,” I averred.

“Haughty you say,” Phoebe enquired, “Indeed, yes, I do believe I know of her, yes, she was mistress to the older Lord Harcourt among others I believe.”

“Among others?” I enquired.

“Oh yes,” Phoebe agreed. “She spent hours preening herself and sitting in the reading rooms and attending balls with some old witch, fluttering her eyelashes at every young gentleman and old now you mention it, that could still get his manhood to stand.”

“So shall you have her?” I asked.

“If she wishes,” Phoebe agreed.

“And if not?” I asked.

“Perhaps a night at the ‘Red Lion,’ whoring for Mr Binks will change her mind,” Phoebe suggested, “That or the threat thereof.”

“Yes, yes indeed.” I declared, “I thank you.”

“But sir, My Lord, shall you not dally with me a while?” Phoebe asked sweetly.

“I really think I should be home,” I apologised, “Perhaps next time?”

“I shall keep you to that sir!” she agreed, “I shall tell Madam when she rises when can we expect the wench?”

I went home and sought Miss Harcourt out, “I have arranged a position with Madame L’oiseaux.” I explained.

“I am to be free of you?” she asked.

“Indeed, if you wish, but should you refuse,” I added, “It shall be the back room at the Red Lion with every man jack sampling you, that or servitude here, and indentured servitude for five years.”

“Madame will understand what you cannot,” She declared.

“So collect your traps, we shall go this afternoon,” I insisted.

“It cannot be too soon!” she declared, “Allow me but a quarter hour and I shall attend you,” and she rushed happily away.

She needed more than a quarter hour, but not much more, and I barely had the carriage ready but she was dragging her boxes and traps along to the door for them to be loaded.

“Are you sure you want to go?” I asked.

“Surely do not need to ask?” she demanded.

“Well,” I assured her, “You will do well with Madame L’oiseaux, far better than without,” I averred.

“Certainly better than you!” she averred, and with that we awayed with her in the carriage and myself driving.

I stopped at the Red Lion, and tethered my pair at his rail.

“Why have we stopped?” Miss Harcourt demanded.

“To see Mr Binks,” I said, “Come.”

She descended with some reluctance for she was wearing her good dress, the dark green which made her look like a lady of breeding or so some would say and with it dainty shoes ill suited to the mud of the alehouse yard.

“Ah Binks!” I said a I espied him, “I am away to Madame L’oiseaux with Grace, my father’s whore.”

“Is that she?” he asked.

“Indeed,” I agreed presenting her, “But tell me would you pay me a consideration for her if she fails to reach Madame’s requirements?”

“Why?” he asked, “Is she diseased.”

“I hope not,” I assured him, “I pronged her myself not a day ago.”

“Without a skin?” he asked.

“Indeed,” I agreed.

“Then you’re a bloody fool!” he said, and added, “She’s no good to me, no udders, no meat on her,” he said, “Ten guineas tops,” he added.

“Ohhhhh!” Miss Harcourt stormed and stamped her dainty foot, “I should rather die!”

“What’s going on?” a confused female voice enquired and a barely attired buxom wench appeared from the back room, barefoot, her cream shift soiled and creased and torn and so thin that her teats were clearly to be seen through it.

“Tis all right Fanny,” Binks assured the wench, “Miss Harcourt here is after your job.”

“No!” the wench cried, “But what shall I do Mr Binks?”

“I hardly think I shall accept Mr Binks kind offer,” Miss Harcourt said haughtily.

“Don’t you take that tone with me you bitch!” the wench asserted, “You’re no better than you should be,” she said, “You think on, can you take a gentleman up the backside and one in front and still suckle a third?”

“Ugh, no!” Miss Harcourt said and the colour such that there was drained from her face, “No I cannot, I am sure I cannot.”

“Well,” the wench explained, “If you want my job that’s what you’ll need to do on Sat’day night lest you’ll be up all night till sun up before them all sated.”

“On your back on the bar floor eh Fanny,” Binks says, “She sleeps afore the fire, she owes me see, works off what she oes and sure enough she falls with child again and I has to help her out again, so she owes me.”

“Oh,” Fanny says.

“We’ll try Madame first I think, Mr Binks,” I says, “I’ll wish you god day for now.”

I opened the door and Miss Harcourt dashed past me looking ashen faced, and alighted abruptly into the carriage before slamming the door.

“Are you discomfited?” I asked.

“Entirely as was your intent,” she declared. I smiled, if she ad so little taste for proper whoredom then a taste of Madame L’oiseaux’s establishment and she would see servitude with me was indeed entirely preferable.

Things are seldom so clear though, and Miss Harcourt was delighted with the Maison L’oiseaux, the sumptuous decor and the kindness of the ladies all of whom were especially neatly attired as if ready to attend at church rather than to attend to any gentleman’s carnal whim at a moment’s notice.

We entered into the house like we were attending a tea party for that is what Madame had laid out in her sitting room with several girls seated around a tea table where a selection of small delicate but exquisite cakes was also provided and pastries and other delicacies in great profusion, qand as we sat around so Miss Harcourt chattered away on all kinds of notions save that which we were come for.

“Madame,” Miss Harcourt said after taking tea, “I am afraid I am here under false pretences, I was left a ward of Lord Blanchforth’s father, not his whore at all and I wonder, might I abide here for a time while I arrange my affairs?”

Madame looked at Miss Harcourt, a kindly woman of some fifty summers Madame had heard every sob story a thousand times, “Yes my child, we shall look after you and in return you shall oblige and entertain our gentlemen.”

Miss Harcourt looked confused, “Fornicate,” I explained, “She really is rather good.”

“Lord Blanchforth, how much are you asking for the girl?” Madame asked.

“I think she’s had better than a hundred guineas all told,” I explained, “Is that an excess?”

“No, that is very fair.” Madame agreed, “Her hair and nails need work, though her deportment and elocution are excellent, but the haughtiness will have to go my lord,” Madame explained.

“Indeed,” I concurred, “That is what spoils her.”

“Have you tried sodomy?” Madam asked.

“Ah no,” I confessed, “She requires stretching I do believe.”

“Mouth?” Madame asked.

“Nor that neither for she professes sharp teeth,” I added.

“Are you going to talk of me like I was a piece of dead meat and not here at all/” Miss Harcourt queried.

“Indeed,” Madame concurred, “This is between Lord Blanchforth and I, have you the papers my lord?”

“Yes,” I agreed, and showed her.

“Barely still within your control,” Madame observed.

“Tis here, servitude with me or Binks at the Red Lion.” I explained.

“So, which is it to be?” Madame asked.

“Here!” Miss Harcourt decided.

It was as if someone had driven a stake within my heart, “No!” I strangled my cry, and instead said “Oh?”

“Here I might ensnare a gentleman!” Miss Harcourt averred.

“Then sign my book and have Holloway fetch the girl’s things,” Madame agreed, “Your fee in six months when she has earned it my lord,” Madame suggested.

“Indeed,” I agreed, “Come Grace, sign Madame’s book.”

“And be free of you?” she asked.

“Entirely,” I agreed.

“Good!” she said and she signed on the line, in all probability not realising that she had assigned herself to Madame until her debt was paid, and that debt was the sum of her attire which would be required for her new life as a whore and which in truth could barely be paid off if she had a different gentleman every forenoon, afternoon and evening.

“Monique, Francine take Grace to the room, Lilla have the cases brought, Angelique see to my Lord Blanchforths needs,” Madame ordered.

“I shall assist with the cases,” I explained and I left Miss Harcourt with the girls.

It pained me that she rejected my offer but Madame was a kindly and fair mistress and I knew father would approve that I had placed his whore into a clean and well respected establishment and not allowed her to walk the streets.
I assisted with Miss Harcourt’s cases which Madame had opened and the contents examined, “She will require a complete new wardrobe, this is useless except for going to church,” she declared, “Shall we inspect the girl together?”

“Look I had better be away,” I explained.

“No I insist,” Madame replied, “There may be nasty surprises.”

The surprise was Miss Harcourt’s when Madame and I entered her room for she was naked having bathed in a hip bath before a blazing fire, “No!” she cried and tried to hide her nakedness.

“Stand up girl!” Madame demanded, but Miss Harcourt held the bath towel before her, “Display, girl display!” Madame repeated.

“Grace, I saw everything already,” I said gently.

“No!” she declared, “I cannot!” but Monique and Francine were well versed in reluctant whores, those who were quick to sign and slow to offer themselves and each had a wide leather band with buckles which they took up and in concert took each of Miss Harcourts arms and slipped a band around the wrist even as Miss Harcourt held her towel.

“No, Miss Harcourt demurred, but Madame herself stepped forward and took a further leather strap from the sideboard and buckled it around Miss Harcourt’s neck like a puppy dog’s collar.

Lilla joined us as Francine and Monique still held Graces arms so Lilla took up two more straps and placed then around Miss Harcourt’s upper thighs.

“No, what is this?” Miss Harcourt cried.

“Miss Harcourt becomes Miss Harlot!” I laughed, sadly none laughed with me which thought damned rude.

“No,” Miss Harcourt cried again, but with practiced ease Francine and Monique eased Miss Harcourt’s hands down and Lilla attached the wrist cuffs to the thigh cuffs and allowed Miss Harcourt’s towel to fall away, “No desist I say, unhand me!” Miss Harcourt protested.

“The hair must go,” Madame insisted, “Monique, the razor if you please, under the arms as well, she looks like a goat.”

“How dare you!” Miss Harcourt cried.

“And a gag,” Madame requested, “A tunnel gag I think, she has sharp teeth does she not my lord?”

“Very pretty teeth,” I agreed as I gazed at Miss Harcourt and my manhood roused.

“My lord, my lord,” Madame asserted, “Are you quite well?”

“Yes, why?” I asked.

“You seemed far away,” Madame suggested as Monique brought a bowl of warm water and shaving soap and her folding razor which she demonstrated was indeed razor sharp by cutting a piece of cloth and having persuaded or forced Miss Harcourt to squat down she proceeded to shave away the hairs from her lower belly.

Miss Harcourt’s breath came in short gasps now, frightened perhaps or excited and she trembled gently as Monique revealed the intimacies of Miss Harcourt’s slot and private places to plain view,”N’no, please!” Miss Harcourt quavered in her fear as Monique twisted the blade this way and that among the soap and hairs cleaving away the dark fur to reveal the delights beneath.

I own the whole was perfection and such was Monique’s artistry and skill that not a drop of blood was spilled neither was a singe hair left to despoil the soft pinkness now displayed, and then with some greater difficulty to the arm pits was Monique’s attention paid and once again the sharp flat blade cleaved away the hairiness and left the maid clean and pristine like a new hatched babe.

“Oh you monster!” Miss Harcourt protested, “Why must you treat me so ill!”

“It is the same for all of us,” Madame declared, “For myself I enjoy it,” she smiled at Monique, “But my darling Monique makes it more special do you not my cherry?”

Monique blushed, “Yes Madame,” she agreed and taking up her bowl she scuttled from the room.

“The Annus,” Madame said, “You do not allow gentleman that pleasure?” Madame asked as she inspected Miss Harcourt more closely.

“No indeed not, indeed I have scarcely allowed any indignities,” Miss Harcourt insisted.

“Love, my child,” Madame said, “Our gentleman show their love they do not inflict indignities do I make myself clear?”

“But before Lord Blanchforth,” Miss Harcourt explained.

“Enough, silence, Monique the gag please!” Madame insisted.

“No!” Miss Harcourt pleaded but Monique had the tunnel gag to hand, a stout tube of leather with a wider strap sewn at a cross angle its utility was clear, to protect a gentlemans’ member from the teeth of the wearer.

“No,” Miss Harcourt protested noisily, as Monique showed the tapered wooden tool and demonstrated how it slid within the tube that it might enter more readily.

“Open your mouth wide,” Madame insisted, Miss Harcourt demurred so Madame nodded to Francine who reached down and pinched one of Miss Harcourts freshly shaven lower lips firmly between finger and thumb.

“Ah!” Miss Harourt gasped and in an instant the tube was within Miss Harcourt’s mouth and the wooden tool with it and the straps were taken to behind her head and the buckle tightened.

She looked around in sheer terror unable to even breathe until the tool was withdrawn, and “Ushhh,” she gasped as Monique set the tool down.

“My lord, shall you sample her mouth?” Madame enquired.

Mouth, slot, bottom at that moment I desired her too much, my manhood strained and in an instant exploded.

I stared helplessly.

“Un petit accident?” Madame enquired, “Where is Phoebe, call for Phoebe, she will attend you my lord,” Madame insisted and with considerable embarrassment I went through the door marked “Private,” into the whore’s private quarters and sought Phoebe.

“Oh, Lord Blanchforth!” Phoebe gushed as she answered her door in her dressing gown.

“I’m afraid I had an accident,” I explained, “Miss Harcourt.”

Phoebe cast aside her gown upon the bed, she was gloriously bared beneath, “Such things happen,” she assured me, “Show me.”

I dropped my breeches and there to my shame my poor appendage drooped still sticky from my over excitement.

Phoebe took a damp sponge and after having me sit on her bed she began to wipe away the expelled cream, “I have clean undergarments if you wish, mans undergarments,” she explained.

“Thank you,” I agreed.

“He is beautiful,” Phoebe added and my appendage reared, “May I?” she asked and I could not refuse her as she slid a skin onto my manhood and turning to face me somehow slid down upon me and engulfed him entirely, yes so even my balls were engulfed.

“There is that not better?” she queried.

“Much,” I agreed, “Much better,” but for all that Phoebe engulfed me it was Miss Harcourt’s face that I saw in my minds eye as Phoebe took her pleasure.

The cream in my under things had dried to crust when we had finished, and though she had done most of the movements still Phoebe had left me drained yet by so doing she seemed re-invigorated and deftly threw the skin in the washing bowl and wiped my manhood so that I might draw up my breeches and return to Madame.

Miss Harcourt was still in the room but hooded now, a leather hood over her head and the eye holes covered and fastened shut, her mouth still filled with the tunnel gag while she was deported over a low stool as the girls worked to ease her bottom with a wooden spike that she night serve more usefully. She moaned like some wounded beast and yet barely an inch of girth had she taken.

“She is very poorly broken your whore my lord,” Madame chided me, “But then you always preferred the softness of a well oiled slot to the tightness of the annus, did you not?”

“Indeed,” I agreed, “But I should very much like to sample her tightness, very much indeed.”

“And so you shall my lord, I shall deduct it from the fee I owe you!” she added with a triumphant smile.

I felt my manhood strain again and so I swiftly made my apologies and made my way home.

It was late, we had no ostler only a farmhand who was useless though cheap so it fell to me to set the horses to stable and it was was an irritant, as was stabling the carriage and when I got to think about bed the whole house was asleep.

I went to my bed my head filled with Miss Harcourt hooded and bare and slept fitfully.

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