Of Bondlings and Blesh Chapter 43
Chapter 43
The great log fire crackled in the grate – while, true to the month name, a Windrush blast rattled the window. At my toes, the rug looked so costly that I refrained from stepping on it. Running my fingers over the framework of a cabinet of curiosities, the gleaming polished wood betrayed not even the ghost of roughness. Peering into its shadowy depths, my eye was caught by a small figure of a fish – blue, white and yellow, perhaps three inches long.
“I’ve never seen anything like that little fish,” I said. “What’s it made of?”
“Coloured glass,” Lord Higate replied.
“It doesn’t look like any glass I’ve seen before.”
“I don’t suppose it does. It’s so old that they considered it ancient even in the Old Time… Does that satisfy your curiosity, Princess Margaret?”
“Yes, of course. I don’t suppose you requested my presence for me to view your curiosities.”
“Indeed not, although I enjoy having the things admired. If you will bear with me, my boring business was to ask you to deliver this letter. It’s for Lady Blanchet[1] at number twelve Bed Foot Square. If you could go straight away, I’d be much obliged”
“Of course, Lord Higate. It would be my pleasure. Bed Foot Square is only just across the road from the Stableyard Gate.”
“Lady Blanchet may wish to respond in some way. I would regard it as a favour if you’d stay with her until you’re dismissed.”
“Doing you a favour, Lord Higate, is my pleasure. I’m on my way. A good evening to you.”
Taking the stableyard staircase reminded me of Captain Grace’s final hour in the world. Feeling uneasy to be alone in this place, I hurried out into the windy evening. The guard at the gate nodded as I presented my passport, and made a hurried note in his logbook. Bed Foot Square, with its fashionable, expensive houses was – as I’d said – on the other side of the road.
Knocking at the door of number twelve, I was admitted by a beautiful slave with the name Propitti branded on her thigh. When I showed her the letter in Lord Higate’s hand, and bearing his seal, she admitted me without question. Following her, I found myself in a room of lovely, but under-stated, furniture – the walls hung with a few exquisite pictures. An elegantly dressed, handsome, woman in her forties rose to greet me.
“My dear!” she said. “You have something for me?”
“You must be Lady Blanchet. I have a letter from Lord Higate.”
She took the letter, and broke the seal. Unfolding the paper, then reading the contents, her lips curved into a smile of doubtful meaning. Shuffling nervously, I waited for her to write a response or dismiss me. Making no move to do either thing, she rang a small silver hand bell – it tinkled with a musical note.
“You must be Princess Margaret. Won’t you stay for some tea?”
“Yes, I am she. Lord Higate said there might be a response to the letter, and asked me to wait until you dismissed me.”
“Did he, indeed? How kind of him. I think I may say that there will be a response. You will take tea?”
“Yes, thank you, Lady Blanchet.”
“Good!” Then to the uniformed housemaid in personage, who had answered the bell: “Ah, there you are, Miles! Tea for two – camomile, I think – and cakes.”
“Yes, ma’am” said the maid, before departing.
Lady Blanchet spoke of matters concerning Lundin society, which were quite beyond my knowledge, pausing as the maid returned. With a little curtsey, the woman in black dress and white apron laid the tea tray on a small table close to her mistress’ right hand. Curtseying a second time, the servant turned as if to leave. Then she saw me, and her face screwed up – I thought she was about to weep, but was mistaken.
“It’s you! It’s you – you bitch!” the maid snarled.
Startled, I looked at her properly. The woman in the frilly cap, little black dress and white apron was Miss Miles. Astonished, I stared at her, until suddenly aware of my mouth opening and closing silently – like a fish. Obviously shocked, Lady Blanchet took a few minutes to find her voice.
“Miles!” she called, after what seemed a long pause. “I am shocked, deeply shocked, that a servant should be so rude to a guest in my house. What do you think I should do about your gross misconduct?”
“Spank me again, ma’am?” Miss Miles answered.
Lady Blanchet’s words were curiously familiar[2]: “Well – since you have your heart set on being spanked – it would be a shame to disappoint you. I will start, then, with a thorough spanking. However, my feeling is that my hand, however hard it may be, can’t provide the complete answer. So – once your buttocks are thoroughly warm – it will be right to continue with the strap.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t just stand there, yes ma’aming me, you saucy little madam,” Lady Blanchet said, transferring herself to a chair lacking arms that might serve as an impediment to the spanking. “Place yourself over my knee this instant!”
Miss Miles hurried to do as she had been bidden. Lady Blanchet raised the maid’s skirt and petticoats, then paused with her hand resting on a pair of tautly stretched briefs. The purpose at this point, no doubt, was to increase the former governess’ discomfort by making her wait. Then, raising her hand, she brought it down again very hard, and very loudly.
“A few across your briefs, then we’ll have them down for a damn good spanking. And don’t forget you’ve the strap to look forward. What do you say?”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“I should think so. What do you think, Princess Margaret?”
“Yes, certainly,” I replied. “You should give her a sound thrashing – and she should be grateful for it.”
“Indeed she should,” Lady Blanchet continued, talking as she spanked. “Had I not taken her into service, what would have become of her?”
“Nothing good, I should think.”
“Nothing good. She might have become a scavenger on the rubbish tips. Apart from that – it would have been living by crime or accumulating debt. Either course would have seen her in slavery.”
“And rightly so, Lady Blanchet.”
“Quite. They would have stripped and chained you, Miles, you ungrateful wretch – and branded you there.” She tapped the maid on her stocking top. “And that hurts a lot more than a spanking or the strap – doesn’t it, Princess Tuerqui?”
“Yes, it does,” I said weakly, disconcerted to be so addressed.
“Miles used to be a governess, but was dismissed for Surrenity. She hoped to stay with an aunt. But someone had told the old lady that her niece had tried to arrange her murder. Approached a guard captain for the purpose, if you please.”
“Who could have told the aunt such a thing?”
“Who indeed? So Miles had to stay in a hotel with no income. Enslavement for debt must have seemed inevitable until I was kind enough to offer her a place here. I always take an interest in girls dismissed for Surrenity.”
“Very kind of you, Lady Blanchet.”
“Yes, very kind. In spite of her reputation for Surrenity, she has yet to give me much pleasure in that regard, but I suppose she’ll learn. She hasn’t made a very good servant, either, but I’m correcting her errors. We strive to improve.”
“I see that you are correcting her errors, Lady Blanchet. You’ve brought quite a blush to her cheeks.”
“Blushing with shame seems most appropriate, doesn’t it, Princess Margaret?”
Eventually, Lady Blanchet sent Miss Miles to fetch the strap – since she had to explain where it was kept, I judged this to be the ex-governess’ first strapping in this house. When a rueful figure in black dress and white apron returned with the strip of split leather, I saw that it looked as formidable at the schoolroom equivalent. The maid curtsied and asked to be punished. Bent over a stoutly-made desk, she received a thrashing that produced sympathetic twinges in my bottom.
“My dear guest,” Lady Blanchet said eventually, “since you are really the offended party, “perhaps you would care to complete the punishment?”
Her ladyship proffered me the strap, and, rising to my feet, I accepted it. If this was to be my revenge on the former governess, it would be more premeditated, less hot blooded, than killing my fiancé had been. Stepping close, I saw that Miss Miles was already sobbing uncontrollably. My words were a deliberate echo of the things she and Captain Grace had said to me.
“Stop blubbing, you great baby,” I said. “Another half dozen might do it – or make it eight for good measure – continuing with this excellent strap, of course. As we’re approaching the end, I’ll make them good and smart. Brace yourself, girl, these are going to hurt.”
In the event, I gave her a full dozen, each delivered with considerable force. With some satisfaction, I heard Miss Miles yell as each stroke found its mark. Lady Blanchet’s eyes gleamed, and her face creased once more into that unreadable smile. The former governess’ bottom was one large bruise.
“Have you done with her, Lady Margaret?” my hostess asked, as I finished my work.
“I think so, Lady Blanchet.”
“In that case, Miles, you will pull up your briefs and stand under the picture of the pretty lady suckling a baby until you are dismissed.” Then, to me: “My dear, have you read Lord Higate’s letter?”
“No, your ladyship, he didn’t show it to me.”
“Then perhaps you’d better read it now.”
Taking the paper, I saw that it was short, only three sentences: Here, in return for your services, is the item about which we spoke. I hope that it will give you a lot of pleasure. Should it malfunction, let me know, I think I will be able to fix it.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Lord Higate gave me nothing to bring, apart from the letter. Truly!”
“If you really mean that, you have no idea of what he intended. Can you be so innocent? Or are you joshing?”
“No, Lady Blanchet, I really don’t know what item he can have meant.”
“Silly girl. You are the item. It’s no secret that I like girls. Someone was kind enough to call me the most degenerate woman in Lundin.”
“And Lord Higate wishes me to lie with you?”
“More to the point, young lady, I wish it. You are the most intriguing girl in Lundin – princess and slave, whore and warrior. Tonight, at last, you are mine. Come, join me on the couch.”
Obediently, and without further comment, I sat next to her. She ran her fingers over my breasts before untying the laces of my bodice. By chance, I was wearing delicious lingerie of satin, net, ribbon and lace – or was it chance? Perhaps Lord Higate had directed Tipsi as to which things to lay out for me that morning.
“How I love unwrapping a present,” Lady Blanchet said as my sexiest bra was revealed. “You have lovely boobies, young lady. And a highly spankable bum.”
“You intend to spank me?”
“I thought that, when I had you down to your undies, we might indulge in a little erotic spanking. Miles has quite put me in the mood for it – sweet slaps after sour. Naturally, that would be only the first course of tonight’s feast. I hope you’re not expecting to sleep before morning.”
Whether or not Lady Blanchet was the most degenerate woman in Lundin, she was certainly very inventive, and extremely demanding. When I limped through the Stableyard Gate the following morning, the guard winked at me. In my rooms, only Tipsi was out of bed. She had clearly been worried.
“Are you are all right, mistress?” she asked. “When you didn’t come home last night I thought maybe…”
“I’m well enough, thank you, Tipsi. I’ve been on a… err…demanding mission for Lord Higate. Short of sleep, physically drained, but I’ll get by. A bit of extra honey in my porridge wouldn’t come amiss.”
“Of course, mistress. Lord Higate has never required you overnight before, mistress. I hope…”
“He sent me to Lady Blanchet – and it was she who required me overnight.”
“Lady Blanchet, mistress? In that case, I’ll also put extra honey in your rosehip tea.”
Two days later, on Windrush 14th, my father raised the question of my marriage anew. He was of the opinion that we had waited sufficiently long for Captain Grace’s return. It was exactly ten weeks since my friends and I had killed my fiancé. The wonder was that the old man had been so patient.
“We can’t wait indefinitely for Captain Grace,” he said. “In any case, the match seems to me rather a waste. With war on its way, we need to cement our alliances as efficaciously as possible. Baron Leopold of Fleet has the great advantage that his father is the Marquis of Ipswidge...”
“Surely, father, you can’t mean for me to marry Baron Leopold? Don’t you recall him coming to the New Year masque in a lady’s dress? I’m not sure how to put it delicately, but…”
“Yes, I take your but, Margaret. I’ve been in touch with the lad’s father and have been reassured that the baron has had all of that silly nonsense thrashed out of him. More importantly, the Marquis is perhaps the most influential noble in East Anglar. His support is worth several divisions, I think – the troops could be crucial.”
“I see, father. Your mind is made up?”
“Yes, it is.”
By now, I was fully aware that there was not the least use in argument. The only practical course was to discredit Baron Leopold and, after my experiences in the Laughing Phallus, I had a shrewd idea of how that might be accomplished. Recalling his size with what I hoped to be reasonable accuracy, it remained to approach Modesty to set her stitch slaves to work. She laughed, but provided exactly what I’d had in mind.
The Baron arrived a week later, mud-spattered after a perilous journey that had included some notoriously bad roads. On Windrush 22nd, the day after his arrival, he and I were left alone together – so that we could become better acquainted. Cautiously at first, I regaled him with reminiscences from my whoredom. It came as no surprise when he proved especially receptive to the stories of men who enjoyed wearing feminine garments and being thrashed.
“…Fred the schoolgirl was really squirming,” I said, approaching the end of an anecdote “– but loving every stroke of the cane.”
“Ooh, I say,” he giggled. “Do you think we could do that – when we’re married?”
“Why wait till then?” I replied. “I’ve a schoolroom uniform that should fit you, and a cane oughtn’t to be too hard to find. In any case, I certainly have the right equipment for a hand spanking.”
Taking the Baron to my living room, I asked Barguin and Diqui to dress him in some of the things Modesty had prepared. They were copies of my schoolroom uniform, from days with Miss Miles, scaled up to a larger size. My calculation had been that, although far too big for me, they would gain plausibility by proving a tight fit on my suitor. After anxious moments, and some strained seams, it became clear that he could be squeezed into the garments.
“I’ll just see if I can find a cane,” I said.
“No need for that. I’m sure we can manage with your hand.”
“Nonsense, little Leopella! A naughty child, like you, needs the cane, if not the strap. Don’t worry – I won’t be long.”
Before he could reply, I was through the door and hurrying upstairs. At the entrance to my father’s office, I drew a deep breath before knocking. Taking a monosyllable as an invitation to enter, I found the old man in conference with Cornelius Lock. They both looked annoyed by my intrusion.
“Father!” I began. “Quick! I think Baron Leopold’s gone mad. Fetch a whip!”
Evidently alarmed, both men took lengths of plaited leather from hooks by the door, and followed me. Baron Leopold smiled expectantly when I returned to my living room – but only for a moment. His face grew pale as my father and the tax gatherer followed me across the threshold. By contrast, the old man flushed a fiery red, although Cornelius Lock showed no sign of changing colour.
Then both avenging men were upon the schoolgirl baron, whips flailing furiously. The three of them charged about my room like nazemen in the pit[3], knocking over furniture, bursting cushions and smashing several delicate objects. Having acquired a good eye for whipping styles, I judged that the beating looked more impressive than it felt. For all of that, Baron Leopold squealed loudly – a note piercing as a pig at slaughter.
Fortunately, my would-be suitor gained the door before my living room was entirely wrecked, and was gone with my father and the tax gatherer hard on his heels, still plying their whips. Lisa-Louise, Modesty, Tipsi, Barguin and Diqui emerged from the safety of a back room, and we strolled to a balcony with a view of the ceremonial parade ground. Moments later, Baron Leopold emerged from the building, now pursued by three flailing whips – a captain of the guard having joined the chase. The youth sprinted for the gate, flashing his serviceable knickers at every stride.
Two halberdiers barred his progress at the gate, a dozen more cut off his retreat in either direction. Inevitably, he was soon seized. To my surprise, Miss Sweetman emerged from the palace, clasping the all too familiar schoolroom strap. Two guardsmen fetched a trestle, and forcibly bent the baron over it.
Why the governess had been summoned, I didn’t know, unless it had to do with the baron wearing what seemed to be one of her schoolroom uniforms. It being Olday, she should have been relaxing for the weekend. With her characteristically sour expression, I was unable to judge whether she objected to having her leisure time interrupted. Whether or not she disliked being fetched for the purpose, Miss Sweetman plied the strap with considerable force, and her victim was soon yelping loudly enough for us on the balcony to hear.
Idlers familiar from the Comday drill sessions had appeared. It hadn’t taken long for news of the entertainment to spread. Perhaps, I thought, an influential spectator had sent for Miss Sweetman. Thinking it over, this seemed a more plausible explanation for the governess’ arrival than the fact of the pseudo-schoolroom uniform.
After the first half dozen strokes, Miss Sweetman pulled down his knickers – but did so with some caution so as to avoid exposing the baron’s genital organs. Thereafter she administered the most thoroughgoing strapping I’d ever witnessed – considerably heavier than any I had received. When finally permitted to rise, he was weeping freely, his shoulders heaving. Three guardsmen and a captain led him back into the palace – the show was over, and the idlers dispersed.
“I’m afraid that your marriage to Baron Leopold isn’t going to happen,” my father said to me two days later. “The signal towers have been relaying messages between me and his father. That nancy boy is to be escorted back to Ipswidge. The marquis was pleased to hear about the strapping Miss Sweetman gave his son, and is minded to put him under a suitably strict governess.”
“Father,” I said with a sudden generous impulse, “Miss Miles would be ideally suited to the post. If she’s touched with Surrenity, it could make no difference to her dealings with a young man.”
“That is well observed – and a good idea. Do you know what happened to Miss Miles?”
“As a matter of fact I do, father. I’m not sure whether you’re aware that I’ve undertaken some minor duties to help Lord Higate and Captain Grace?”
“Yes, I was pleased to hear about that. In fact, it raised you considerably in my estimation, Margaret. But how do your duties relate to Miss Miles?”
“Twelve days ago, Lord Higate asked me to deliver a letter to Lady Blanchet at number twelve Bed Foot Square…”
“Her? The lair of the most degenerate woman in Lundin is no place for my daughter.”
“Oh, father! I was only delivering an urgent message. We can’t be squeamish when it comes to the security of Lundin. There is too much dangerous work afoot.”
“You’re right. I was talking like an old woman – and you reply like a soldier. I’m proud of you, Margaret. But what of Miss Miles?”
“Lady Blanchet is employing her as a housemaid in personage.”
“Then she will most certainly accompany Baron Leopold back to Ipswidge[4]. Miss Miles will provide him with the moral grounding he sorely needs. And it will place the governess beyond the reach of Lady Blanchet’s Surrenity – which will also aid the morality of the world. If the Marquis is pleased, the business will have served a political and military purpose, too.”
“Does that mean, father, that you’ll have secured your East Anglar alliance without my needing to marry?”
“That, I’m afraid, would be saying too much. There’s still no news of Captain Grace’s return. At a pinch, he might have represented a more or less adequate East Anglar alliance – his brother is Lord in Ordinary of the Wood Bridge, a minor but influential noble. All things considered, it looks as though Lord Up Minester will be the best match for you.”
“But isn’t Up Minester in Essex, father – a few miles east of Lundin? It isn’t in East Anglar.”
“Well, I see that Miss Miles, or Miss Lace, managed to thrash a modicum of geography into you. You’re perfectly correct. But Lord Up Minester’s uncle is the Viscount of Lower Stoft. So he could represent the East Anglar connection I need.”
“If you say so, father.”
Reviewing what I had learned of Lord Up Minester at the New Year masque, there seemed little to my obvious advantage. The best to occur to me was that his slow wittedness would probably allow me to postpone the marriage for at least a couple of months. Even if Lisa-Louise couldn’t devise a plan as quickly as the one for disposing of Captain Grace, she would have plenty of time to think of something. In the event, she had an idea very quickly – and her response surprised me.
“Then you must marry him,” she said. “a few days after the irregular troops leave for Surrey. It’ll take care of everything.”
When Lisa-Louise explained her plan after arms training that day, Modesty, Diqui, Barguin and even Bob suggested further refinements. After our discussion, the only possible problem that remained unsolved was the chance of my being obliged to marry Lord Up Minester before the irregulars departed for Surrey. That eventuality was made less likely when Mrs Clay suggested that Captain Grace might send a message suggesting that he would soon return. Sergeant General Bosset was clearly relieved that the scheme would not expose the fact of his having trained me.
A few days later, on Ruday, Windrush 27th, Lord Up Minester arrived to woo me. Slightly to my surprise, Lord Higate cooperated with a message from Captain Grace on the 29th, proposing the return of my fiancé in a fortnight’s time. Presumably, a delay in my marriage suited the traitor’s purposes. My suitor reacted with an incomprehensible speech about playing the game and departed – for which my father called him a ninny to his face.
Ten days later, on Drizzlemoon 8th, news arrived sufficient to distract father from the question of my marriage. The old man spent the afternoon in conference with his four generals, and also Cornelius Lock. As a consequence, Bob Bosset was missing from our arms training session that day. Obviously, there had been a major development, but I had no clue as to its nature until Lord Higate summoned me during the evening.
“I have an urgent message,” he began, without the usual polite preliminaries, “for Jane Jackson at the sign of the scarlet stripe. Afterwards, I’d be obliged if you could take another letter to Lady Blanchet.”
“Of course, your lordship,” I replied. “But I wonder whether I might trouble you for an answer to a question?”
“If you need to do so – ask. Don’t beat about the bush. There isn’t time. I think I said that Jane Jackson’s message is urgent.”
“Yes, of course. It’s that there was obviously important news today…”
“And you want to know what it is? Well – an answer to that won’t delay us much. Sylvia Sneak, one of the ruling Surrey triumvirate, is dead[5]. Now – go.”
The sign from which the Scarlet Stripe took its name depicted a girl tied to a whipping post, a single red weal across her back. When I asked for Jane Jackson, the landlord showed me into a room occupied by one of the villains with whom Sam the carter did business – a woman with a scar across one cheek and a patch over her left eye. She read the letter, then scribbled a response. Taking the sealed message, I summoned the courage to speak to her.
“Please, your ladyship. Is your message urgent?”
“Do I look like someone who scribbles for fun? Of course, it’s fucking urgent. Why d’you ask? Out with it, girl!”
“It’s just that Lord Higate also gave me a letter for Lady Blanchet. I wondered whether I should deliver your message before going to Bed Foot Square.”
“Do you think it’ll take you long to deliver a letter to Lady Blanchet?”
“I think she might want me to stay until dawn”
She roared with laughter, which developed into a choking fit. Tipping a mug of what was obviously strong liquor down her throat, the choking subsided into hiccoughs. After dabbing at her right eye with a red handkerchief, spotted with white, she stared at me for several minutes. My feeling was that she was taking stock of me, as one might a prize cow.
“Well,” she said at last, “you look a tasty morsel. I’d hate to keep Lady Blanchet waiting for such a sweet dessert. If you’ve business as urgent as that, my letter will wait till morning. Off you go – wiggle that tush to somewhere it’ll really be appreciated.”
At number twelve Bed Foot Square, there was no sign of Miss Miles, and a new housemaid in personage served us camomile tea and cakes. My immediate impression was that the governess’ replacement was more receptive to her mistress’ advances than the predecessor had been. Not only that, but the girl wiggled her bottom at me in what I took to be a meaningful way. Noticing this, Lady Blanchet slapped the maid’s buttocks – but not maliciously – she was not even, I judged, slightly annoyed.
“She’s new,” I said.
“Yes, Carrie’s new. Someone offered Miles a position as a governess in Ipswidge, and she’s gone. Just as I getting her licked into shape – it was a real nuisance.”
A contrast between Lady Blanchet’s relationship with Miss Miles and the new maid was immediately apparent from the names by which she called them. The formality of her dealings with the governess was implied in the use of the surname. Carrie was already called by her first name – more appropriate, amongst minor nobility, for a friend than a servant. After a moment’s hesitation, I decided to allow the matter to pass without comment.
“Still, Carrie seems willing enough,” I said
“She’s a little poppet – as I expect you’ll find out later.”
“I suppose you’ll want me to stay the night. Lord Higate’s letter just says the usual?”
“I don’t expect you’ll be leaving before dawn. But as well as presenting you for my delectation,” Lady Blanchet said, as though making small talk, “Lord Higate tells me that Sylvia Sneak is dead.”
“Yes, I suppose it means that Berenice Blackheart and Nadine Next are ruling Surrey between them.”
“I very much doubt it, Tuerqui. It would be nearer the truth to say that no one is ruling Surrey. Only Sylvia, as an intermediary, delayed war between the other two. Now, Mistress Fury[6] is unloosed.”
A return to civil war in Surrey[7] would pose threats to Tuerquelle, Lady Isobel and all of my friends from the University of Pain. For perhaps five minutes, concern for those I’d left behind prevented me from realising that the news would also present me with additional dangers. Not only might Berenice’s and Nadine’s armies imperil me – but also freebooters and foreign troops, including my father’s. Some of the more baleful aspects of my return started to occur to me with a fresh sense of reality.
Sexually engaged with first Lady Blanchet, and later Carrie as well, I tried to place my forebodings to one side. For the most part, I seemed to succeed well enough – only occasionally receiving an enquiring look as my thoughts were clearly elsewhere. The new maid was a lovely girl, and an enthusiastic lover – my chief regret of the night was not being completely present for her. For all of that, as I staggered through the Stableyard Gate at dawn, my feeling was that I’d given satisfaction.
“Jane Jackson said that her letter would wait till morning,” I explained to Lord Higate. “She said it would be a pity to keep Lady Blanchet waiting for such a sweet dessert.”
“Did she, indeed? However sweet a dessert, you look like a girl who’s had a heavy night.”
“That I have.”
“But pleasant, I hope?”
“Yes, pleasant, as well as heavy, Lord Higate.”
“Good. I believe that Miss Miles has gone on to higher things. Does the new maid fit in?”
“She fitted us both perfectly.”
At arms training that afternoon, Bob Bosset had an announcement: “Listen up, girls! Civil war is breaking out in Surrey, and the invasion plans have been made. Our troops are to be despatched on four consecutive days, starting in sixteen days’ time – on the twenty-fifth.”
“How firm is that schedule?” Lisa-Louise asked. “In my experience, there are usually delays.”
“Things can go wrong, there’s no denying that. But the invasion schedule looks workable. So, you should all be prepared to leave on Drizzlemoon 25th.”
“We’re going on the first day of the invasion?” asked a blonde girl called Caroline.
“Yes, you irregulars depart on the first day. Your aim will be to create as much disruption as possible ahead of the main invasion. The following day, the Chieftain’s Own Guard Battalion will set out. Their objective will be to capture Teddy’s Town lock.”
“Should we concentrate our disruption around Teddy’s Town, then?” asked a dark haired girl with a snub nose – I think her name was Florence.
“No – I think it would be better if you could create havoc a little further afield, so as to draw the Surrey guards away from the lock.”
“What happens on the third and fourth days?” Modesty asked.
“On the third day, the twenty-seventh that is, the infantry will depart with the aim of holding the lock. The idea is that the main army can cross the river at that point on the twenty-eighth.”
The training shed stank of the filth mortlings had evacuated in their terror – and of their blood, shed so that young women could acquire military skills. After a minute or two of silence, as we absorbed the idea that we were about to fight – and some of us would surely die – a girl dropped her sword with a loud clatter. Extending my left boot, I scraped the toe cap in a patch of sawdust, dark red with gore. The blade in my right hand felt heavier than usual.
[1] Lady Blanchet was clearly working on behalf of Surrey at this time, although it is not clear what services she performed. After the Fourth Battle of Lundin, she was appointed governess of the city. In this role, she worked hard to promote the town as a centre of commerce and entertainment, while dealing mercilessly with anyone suspected of supporting Tuerqui’s father’s regime. Later, she held a series of other important posts, retiring late in the reign of Berenice I and dying during the first year of Berenice II’s reign.
[2] In fact, this is exactly the same as a speech Miss Miles is said to have made to Phoebe and Mary in Chapter 40. It is hard to believe that Lady Blanchet used exactly the same words. It is also hard to believe that Tuerqui was able to recall exactly what people had said when setting it down much later.
[3] Like nazemen in the pit – a reference to nazeman baiting.
[4] Miss Miles did accompany Baron Leopold back to Ipswidge. The following year, the Marquis of Ipswidge died, and Leopold succeeded to the title. Shortly thereafter, he married Miss Miles. The pair had a long marriage, and seemingly a happy one. They had eight children. As Marquis, Leopold was instrumental in steering East Anglar away from alliance with Essex and Lundin, and towards one with Surrey. The result was the partition of Essex between Surrey and East Anglar, and subsequently East Anglar joining Surrey’s invasion of the Meadowlands. Eventually, of course, Berenice I added East Anglar to her conquests – but, when she did so, the Marquis and his wife were appointed to positions of power in the former kingdom of Ampsher.
[5] Sylvia Sneak died on Drizzlemoon 6th. Both Berenice Blackheart and Nadine Next accused the other of being responsible for her murder. However, it has never been entirely clear whether either was truly responsible or, indeed, whether Sylvia was murdered at all. The precise cause of her death is obscure – and both Berenice and Nadine seem to have had reason to wish to keep Sylvia alive for at least a little longer.
[6] Mistress Fury – a personification of the goddess of war specific to Surrey. If Lady Blanchet is correctly quoted, she was already steeped in the beliefs of Surrey, rather than Lundin.
[7] This was Drizzlemoon 8th, and Surrey was already in a state of civil war.
For Chapter 44 click
http://bondlings.blogspot.com/2008/01/of-bondlings-and-blesh-chapter-44.html
The great log fire crackled in the grate – while, true to the month name, a Windrush blast rattled the window. At my toes, the rug looked so costly that I refrained from stepping on it. Running my fingers over the framework of a cabinet of curiosities, the gleaming polished wood betrayed not even the ghost of roughness. Peering into its shadowy depths, my eye was caught by a small figure of a fish – blue, white and yellow, perhaps three inches long.
“I’ve never seen anything like that little fish,” I said. “What’s it made of?”
“Coloured glass,” Lord Higate replied.
“It doesn’t look like any glass I’ve seen before.”
“I don’t suppose it does. It’s so old that they considered it ancient even in the Old Time… Does that satisfy your curiosity, Princess Margaret?”
“Yes, of course. I don’t suppose you requested my presence for me to view your curiosities.”
“Indeed not, although I enjoy having the things admired. If you will bear with me, my boring business was to ask you to deliver this letter. It’s for Lady Blanchet[1] at number twelve Bed Foot Square. If you could go straight away, I’d be much obliged”
“Of course, Lord Higate. It would be my pleasure. Bed Foot Square is only just across the road from the Stableyard Gate.”
“Lady Blanchet may wish to respond in some way. I would regard it as a favour if you’d stay with her until you’re dismissed.”
“Doing you a favour, Lord Higate, is my pleasure. I’m on my way. A good evening to you.”
Taking the stableyard staircase reminded me of Captain Grace’s final hour in the world. Feeling uneasy to be alone in this place, I hurried out into the windy evening. The guard at the gate nodded as I presented my passport, and made a hurried note in his logbook. Bed Foot Square, with its fashionable, expensive houses was – as I’d said – on the other side of the road.
Knocking at the door of number twelve, I was admitted by a beautiful slave with the name Propitti branded on her thigh. When I showed her the letter in Lord Higate’s hand, and bearing his seal, she admitted me without question. Following her, I found myself in a room of lovely, but under-stated, furniture – the walls hung with a few exquisite pictures. An elegantly dressed, handsome, woman in her forties rose to greet me.
“My dear!” she said. “You have something for me?”
“You must be Lady Blanchet. I have a letter from Lord Higate.”
She took the letter, and broke the seal. Unfolding the paper, then reading the contents, her lips curved into a smile of doubtful meaning. Shuffling nervously, I waited for her to write a response or dismiss me. Making no move to do either thing, she rang a small silver hand bell – it tinkled with a musical note.
“You must be Princess Margaret. Won’t you stay for some tea?”
“Yes, I am she. Lord Higate said there might be a response to the letter, and asked me to wait until you dismissed me.”
“Did he, indeed? How kind of him. I think I may say that there will be a response. You will take tea?”
“Yes, thank you, Lady Blanchet.”
“Good!” Then to the uniformed housemaid in personage, who had answered the bell: “Ah, there you are, Miles! Tea for two – camomile, I think – and cakes.”
“Yes, ma’am” said the maid, before departing.
Lady Blanchet spoke of matters concerning Lundin society, which were quite beyond my knowledge, pausing as the maid returned. With a little curtsey, the woman in black dress and white apron laid the tea tray on a small table close to her mistress’ right hand. Curtseying a second time, the servant turned as if to leave. Then she saw me, and her face screwed up – I thought she was about to weep, but was mistaken.
“It’s you! It’s you – you bitch!” the maid snarled.
Startled, I looked at her properly. The woman in the frilly cap, little black dress and white apron was Miss Miles. Astonished, I stared at her, until suddenly aware of my mouth opening and closing silently – like a fish. Obviously shocked, Lady Blanchet took a few minutes to find her voice.
“Miles!” she called, after what seemed a long pause. “I am shocked, deeply shocked, that a servant should be so rude to a guest in my house. What do you think I should do about your gross misconduct?”
“Spank me again, ma’am?” Miss Miles answered.
Lady Blanchet’s words were curiously familiar[2]: “Well – since you have your heart set on being spanked – it would be a shame to disappoint you. I will start, then, with a thorough spanking. However, my feeling is that my hand, however hard it may be, can’t provide the complete answer. So – once your buttocks are thoroughly warm – it will be right to continue with the strap.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t just stand there, yes ma’aming me, you saucy little madam,” Lady Blanchet said, transferring herself to a chair lacking arms that might serve as an impediment to the spanking. “Place yourself over my knee this instant!”
Miss Miles hurried to do as she had been bidden. Lady Blanchet raised the maid’s skirt and petticoats, then paused with her hand resting on a pair of tautly stretched briefs. The purpose at this point, no doubt, was to increase the former governess’ discomfort by making her wait. Then, raising her hand, she brought it down again very hard, and very loudly.
“A few across your briefs, then we’ll have them down for a damn good spanking. And don’t forget you’ve the strap to look forward. What do you say?”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“I should think so. What do you think, Princess Margaret?”
“Yes, certainly,” I replied. “You should give her a sound thrashing – and she should be grateful for it.”
“Indeed she should,” Lady Blanchet continued, talking as she spanked. “Had I not taken her into service, what would have become of her?”
“Nothing good, I should think.”
“Nothing good. She might have become a scavenger on the rubbish tips. Apart from that – it would have been living by crime or accumulating debt. Either course would have seen her in slavery.”
“And rightly so, Lady Blanchet.”
“Quite. They would have stripped and chained you, Miles, you ungrateful wretch – and branded you there.” She tapped the maid on her stocking top. “And that hurts a lot more than a spanking or the strap – doesn’t it, Princess Tuerqui?”
“Yes, it does,” I said weakly, disconcerted to be so addressed.
“Miles used to be a governess, but was dismissed for Surrenity. She hoped to stay with an aunt. But someone had told the old lady that her niece had tried to arrange her murder. Approached a guard captain for the purpose, if you please.”
“Who could have told the aunt such a thing?”
“Who indeed? So Miles had to stay in a hotel with no income. Enslavement for debt must have seemed inevitable until I was kind enough to offer her a place here. I always take an interest in girls dismissed for Surrenity.”
“Very kind of you, Lady Blanchet.”
“Yes, very kind. In spite of her reputation for Surrenity, she has yet to give me much pleasure in that regard, but I suppose she’ll learn. She hasn’t made a very good servant, either, but I’m correcting her errors. We strive to improve.”
“I see that you are correcting her errors, Lady Blanchet. You’ve brought quite a blush to her cheeks.”
“Blushing with shame seems most appropriate, doesn’t it, Princess Margaret?”
Eventually, Lady Blanchet sent Miss Miles to fetch the strap – since she had to explain where it was kept, I judged this to be the ex-governess’ first strapping in this house. When a rueful figure in black dress and white apron returned with the strip of split leather, I saw that it looked as formidable at the schoolroom equivalent. The maid curtsied and asked to be punished. Bent over a stoutly-made desk, she received a thrashing that produced sympathetic twinges in my bottom.
“My dear guest,” Lady Blanchet said eventually, “since you are really the offended party, “perhaps you would care to complete the punishment?”
Her ladyship proffered me the strap, and, rising to my feet, I accepted it. If this was to be my revenge on the former governess, it would be more premeditated, less hot blooded, than killing my fiancé had been. Stepping close, I saw that Miss Miles was already sobbing uncontrollably. My words were a deliberate echo of the things she and Captain Grace had said to me.
“Stop blubbing, you great baby,” I said. “Another half dozen might do it – or make it eight for good measure – continuing with this excellent strap, of course. As we’re approaching the end, I’ll make them good and smart. Brace yourself, girl, these are going to hurt.”
In the event, I gave her a full dozen, each delivered with considerable force. With some satisfaction, I heard Miss Miles yell as each stroke found its mark. Lady Blanchet’s eyes gleamed, and her face creased once more into that unreadable smile. The former governess’ bottom was one large bruise.
“Have you done with her, Lady Margaret?” my hostess asked, as I finished my work.
“I think so, Lady Blanchet.”
“In that case, Miles, you will pull up your briefs and stand under the picture of the pretty lady suckling a baby until you are dismissed.” Then, to me: “My dear, have you read Lord Higate’s letter?”
“No, your ladyship, he didn’t show it to me.”
“Then perhaps you’d better read it now.”
Taking the paper, I saw that it was short, only three sentences: Here, in return for your services, is the item about which we spoke. I hope that it will give you a lot of pleasure. Should it malfunction, let me know, I think I will be able to fix it.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Lord Higate gave me nothing to bring, apart from the letter. Truly!”
“If you really mean that, you have no idea of what he intended. Can you be so innocent? Or are you joshing?”
“No, Lady Blanchet, I really don’t know what item he can have meant.”
“Silly girl. You are the item. It’s no secret that I like girls. Someone was kind enough to call me the most degenerate woman in Lundin.”
“And Lord Higate wishes me to lie with you?”
“More to the point, young lady, I wish it. You are the most intriguing girl in Lundin – princess and slave, whore and warrior. Tonight, at last, you are mine. Come, join me on the couch.”
Obediently, and without further comment, I sat next to her. She ran her fingers over my breasts before untying the laces of my bodice. By chance, I was wearing delicious lingerie of satin, net, ribbon and lace – or was it chance? Perhaps Lord Higate had directed Tipsi as to which things to lay out for me that morning.
“How I love unwrapping a present,” Lady Blanchet said as my sexiest bra was revealed. “You have lovely boobies, young lady. And a highly spankable bum.”
“You intend to spank me?”
“I thought that, when I had you down to your undies, we might indulge in a little erotic spanking. Miles has quite put me in the mood for it – sweet slaps after sour. Naturally, that would be only the first course of tonight’s feast. I hope you’re not expecting to sleep before morning.”
Whether or not Lady Blanchet was the most degenerate woman in Lundin, she was certainly very inventive, and extremely demanding. When I limped through the Stableyard Gate the following morning, the guard winked at me. In my rooms, only Tipsi was out of bed. She had clearly been worried.
“Are you are all right, mistress?” she asked. “When you didn’t come home last night I thought maybe…”
“I’m well enough, thank you, Tipsi. I’ve been on a… err…demanding mission for Lord Higate. Short of sleep, physically drained, but I’ll get by. A bit of extra honey in my porridge wouldn’t come amiss.”
“Of course, mistress. Lord Higate has never required you overnight before, mistress. I hope…”
“He sent me to Lady Blanchet – and it was she who required me overnight.”
“Lady Blanchet, mistress? In that case, I’ll also put extra honey in your rosehip tea.”
Two days later, on Windrush 14th, my father raised the question of my marriage anew. He was of the opinion that we had waited sufficiently long for Captain Grace’s return. It was exactly ten weeks since my friends and I had killed my fiancé. The wonder was that the old man had been so patient.
“We can’t wait indefinitely for Captain Grace,” he said. “In any case, the match seems to me rather a waste. With war on its way, we need to cement our alliances as efficaciously as possible. Baron Leopold of Fleet has the great advantage that his father is the Marquis of Ipswidge...”
“Surely, father, you can’t mean for me to marry Baron Leopold? Don’t you recall him coming to the New Year masque in a lady’s dress? I’m not sure how to put it delicately, but…”
“Yes, I take your but, Margaret. I’ve been in touch with the lad’s father and have been reassured that the baron has had all of that silly nonsense thrashed out of him. More importantly, the Marquis is perhaps the most influential noble in East Anglar. His support is worth several divisions, I think – the troops could be crucial.”
“I see, father. Your mind is made up?”
“Yes, it is.”
By now, I was fully aware that there was not the least use in argument. The only practical course was to discredit Baron Leopold and, after my experiences in the Laughing Phallus, I had a shrewd idea of how that might be accomplished. Recalling his size with what I hoped to be reasonable accuracy, it remained to approach Modesty to set her stitch slaves to work. She laughed, but provided exactly what I’d had in mind.
The Baron arrived a week later, mud-spattered after a perilous journey that had included some notoriously bad roads. On Windrush 22nd, the day after his arrival, he and I were left alone together – so that we could become better acquainted. Cautiously at first, I regaled him with reminiscences from my whoredom. It came as no surprise when he proved especially receptive to the stories of men who enjoyed wearing feminine garments and being thrashed.
“…Fred the schoolgirl was really squirming,” I said, approaching the end of an anecdote “– but loving every stroke of the cane.”
“Ooh, I say,” he giggled. “Do you think we could do that – when we’re married?”
“Why wait till then?” I replied. “I’ve a schoolroom uniform that should fit you, and a cane oughtn’t to be too hard to find. In any case, I certainly have the right equipment for a hand spanking.”
Taking the Baron to my living room, I asked Barguin and Diqui to dress him in some of the things Modesty had prepared. They were copies of my schoolroom uniform, from days with Miss Miles, scaled up to a larger size. My calculation had been that, although far too big for me, they would gain plausibility by proving a tight fit on my suitor. After anxious moments, and some strained seams, it became clear that he could be squeezed into the garments.
“I’ll just see if I can find a cane,” I said.
“No need for that. I’m sure we can manage with your hand.”
“Nonsense, little Leopella! A naughty child, like you, needs the cane, if not the strap. Don’t worry – I won’t be long.”
Before he could reply, I was through the door and hurrying upstairs. At the entrance to my father’s office, I drew a deep breath before knocking. Taking a monosyllable as an invitation to enter, I found the old man in conference with Cornelius Lock. They both looked annoyed by my intrusion.
“Father!” I began. “Quick! I think Baron Leopold’s gone mad. Fetch a whip!”
Evidently alarmed, both men took lengths of plaited leather from hooks by the door, and followed me. Baron Leopold smiled expectantly when I returned to my living room – but only for a moment. His face grew pale as my father and the tax gatherer followed me across the threshold. By contrast, the old man flushed a fiery red, although Cornelius Lock showed no sign of changing colour.
Then both avenging men were upon the schoolgirl baron, whips flailing furiously. The three of them charged about my room like nazemen in the pit[3], knocking over furniture, bursting cushions and smashing several delicate objects. Having acquired a good eye for whipping styles, I judged that the beating looked more impressive than it felt. For all of that, Baron Leopold squealed loudly – a note piercing as a pig at slaughter.
Fortunately, my would-be suitor gained the door before my living room was entirely wrecked, and was gone with my father and the tax gatherer hard on his heels, still plying their whips. Lisa-Louise, Modesty, Tipsi, Barguin and Diqui emerged from the safety of a back room, and we strolled to a balcony with a view of the ceremonial parade ground. Moments later, Baron Leopold emerged from the building, now pursued by three flailing whips – a captain of the guard having joined the chase. The youth sprinted for the gate, flashing his serviceable knickers at every stride.
Two halberdiers barred his progress at the gate, a dozen more cut off his retreat in either direction. Inevitably, he was soon seized. To my surprise, Miss Sweetman emerged from the palace, clasping the all too familiar schoolroom strap. Two guardsmen fetched a trestle, and forcibly bent the baron over it.
Why the governess had been summoned, I didn’t know, unless it had to do with the baron wearing what seemed to be one of her schoolroom uniforms. It being Olday, she should have been relaxing for the weekend. With her characteristically sour expression, I was unable to judge whether she objected to having her leisure time interrupted. Whether or not she disliked being fetched for the purpose, Miss Sweetman plied the strap with considerable force, and her victim was soon yelping loudly enough for us on the balcony to hear.
Idlers familiar from the Comday drill sessions had appeared. It hadn’t taken long for news of the entertainment to spread. Perhaps, I thought, an influential spectator had sent for Miss Sweetman. Thinking it over, this seemed a more plausible explanation for the governess’ arrival than the fact of the pseudo-schoolroom uniform.
After the first half dozen strokes, Miss Sweetman pulled down his knickers – but did so with some caution so as to avoid exposing the baron’s genital organs. Thereafter she administered the most thoroughgoing strapping I’d ever witnessed – considerably heavier than any I had received. When finally permitted to rise, he was weeping freely, his shoulders heaving. Three guardsmen and a captain led him back into the palace – the show was over, and the idlers dispersed.
“I’m afraid that your marriage to Baron Leopold isn’t going to happen,” my father said to me two days later. “The signal towers have been relaying messages between me and his father. That nancy boy is to be escorted back to Ipswidge. The marquis was pleased to hear about the strapping Miss Sweetman gave his son, and is minded to put him under a suitably strict governess.”
“Father,” I said with a sudden generous impulse, “Miss Miles would be ideally suited to the post. If she’s touched with Surrenity, it could make no difference to her dealings with a young man.”
“That is well observed – and a good idea. Do you know what happened to Miss Miles?”
“As a matter of fact I do, father. I’m not sure whether you’re aware that I’ve undertaken some minor duties to help Lord Higate and Captain Grace?”
“Yes, I was pleased to hear about that. In fact, it raised you considerably in my estimation, Margaret. But how do your duties relate to Miss Miles?”
“Twelve days ago, Lord Higate asked me to deliver a letter to Lady Blanchet at number twelve Bed Foot Square…”
“Her? The lair of the most degenerate woman in Lundin is no place for my daughter.”
“Oh, father! I was only delivering an urgent message. We can’t be squeamish when it comes to the security of Lundin. There is too much dangerous work afoot.”
“You’re right. I was talking like an old woman – and you reply like a soldier. I’m proud of you, Margaret. But what of Miss Miles?”
“Lady Blanchet is employing her as a housemaid in personage.”
“Then she will most certainly accompany Baron Leopold back to Ipswidge[4]. Miss Miles will provide him with the moral grounding he sorely needs. And it will place the governess beyond the reach of Lady Blanchet’s Surrenity – which will also aid the morality of the world. If the Marquis is pleased, the business will have served a political and military purpose, too.”
“Does that mean, father, that you’ll have secured your East Anglar alliance without my needing to marry?”
“That, I’m afraid, would be saying too much. There’s still no news of Captain Grace’s return. At a pinch, he might have represented a more or less adequate East Anglar alliance – his brother is Lord in Ordinary of the Wood Bridge, a minor but influential noble. All things considered, it looks as though Lord Up Minester will be the best match for you.”
“But isn’t Up Minester in Essex, father – a few miles east of Lundin? It isn’t in East Anglar.”
“Well, I see that Miss Miles, or Miss Lace, managed to thrash a modicum of geography into you. You’re perfectly correct. But Lord Up Minester’s uncle is the Viscount of Lower Stoft. So he could represent the East Anglar connection I need.”
“If you say so, father.”
Reviewing what I had learned of Lord Up Minester at the New Year masque, there seemed little to my obvious advantage. The best to occur to me was that his slow wittedness would probably allow me to postpone the marriage for at least a couple of months. Even if Lisa-Louise couldn’t devise a plan as quickly as the one for disposing of Captain Grace, she would have plenty of time to think of something. In the event, she had an idea very quickly – and her response surprised me.
“Then you must marry him,” she said. “a few days after the irregular troops leave for Surrey. It’ll take care of everything.”
When Lisa-Louise explained her plan after arms training that day, Modesty, Diqui, Barguin and even Bob suggested further refinements. After our discussion, the only possible problem that remained unsolved was the chance of my being obliged to marry Lord Up Minester before the irregulars departed for Surrey. That eventuality was made less likely when Mrs Clay suggested that Captain Grace might send a message suggesting that he would soon return. Sergeant General Bosset was clearly relieved that the scheme would not expose the fact of his having trained me.
A few days later, on Ruday, Windrush 27th, Lord Up Minester arrived to woo me. Slightly to my surprise, Lord Higate cooperated with a message from Captain Grace on the 29th, proposing the return of my fiancé in a fortnight’s time. Presumably, a delay in my marriage suited the traitor’s purposes. My suitor reacted with an incomprehensible speech about playing the game and departed – for which my father called him a ninny to his face.
Ten days later, on Drizzlemoon 8th, news arrived sufficient to distract father from the question of my marriage. The old man spent the afternoon in conference with his four generals, and also Cornelius Lock. As a consequence, Bob Bosset was missing from our arms training session that day. Obviously, there had been a major development, but I had no clue as to its nature until Lord Higate summoned me during the evening.
“I have an urgent message,” he began, without the usual polite preliminaries, “for Jane Jackson at the sign of the scarlet stripe. Afterwards, I’d be obliged if you could take another letter to Lady Blanchet.”
“Of course, your lordship,” I replied. “But I wonder whether I might trouble you for an answer to a question?”
“If you need to do so – ask. Don’t beat about the bush. There isn’t time. I think I said that Jane Jackson’s message is urgent.”
“Yes, of course. It’s that there was obviously important news today…”
“And you want to know what it is? Well – an answer to that won’t delay us much. Sylvia Sneak, one of the ruling Surrey triumvirate, is dead[5]. Now – go.”
The sign from which the Scarlet Stripe took its name depicted a girl tied to a whipping post, a single red weal across her back. When I asked for Jane Jackson, the landlord showed me into a room occupied by one of the villains with whom Sam the carter did business – a woman with a scar across one cheek and a patch over her left eye. She read the letter, then scribbled a response. Taking the sealed message, I summoned the courage to speak to her.
“Please, your ladyship. Is your message urgent?”
“Do I look like someone who scribbles for fun? Of course, it’s fucking urgent. Why d’you ask? Out with it, girl!”
“It’s just that Lord Higate also gave me a letter for Lady Blanchet. I wondered whether I should deliver your message before going to Bed Foot Square.”
“Do you think it’ll take you long to deliver a letter to Lady Blanchet?”
“I think she might want me to stay until dawn”
She roared with laughter, which developed into a choking fit. Tipping a mug of what was obviously strong liquor down her throat, the choking subsided into hiccoughs. After dabbing at her right eye with a red handkerchief, spotted with white, she stared at me for several minutes. My feeling was that she was taking stock of me, as one might a prize cow.
“Well,” she said at last, “you look a tasty morsel. I’d hate to keep Lady Blanchet waiting for such a sweet dessert. If you’ve business as urgent as that, my letter will wait till morning. Off you go – wiggle that tush to somewhere it’ll really be appreciated.”
At number twelve Bed Foot Square, there was no sign of Miss Miles, and a new housemaid in personage served us camomile tea and cakes. My immediate impression was that the governess’ replacement was more receptive to her mistress’ advances than the predecessor had been. Not only that, but the girl wiggled her bottom at me in what I took to be a meaningful way. Noticing this, Lady Blanchet slapped the maid’s buttocks – but not maliciously – she was not even, I judged, slightly annoyed.
“She’s new,” I said.
“Yes, Carrie’s new. Someone offered Miles a position as a governess in Ipswidge, and she’s gone. Just as I getting her licked into shape – it was a real nuisance.”
A contrast between Lady Blanchet’s relationship with Miss Miles and the new maid was immediately apparent from the names by which she called them. The formality of her dealings with the governess was implied in the use of the surname. Carrie was already called by her first name – more appropriate, amongst minor nobility, for a friend than a servant. After a moment’s hesitation, I decided to allow the matter to pass without comment.
“Still, Carrie seems willing enough,” I said
“She’s a little poppet – as I expect you’ll find out later.”
“I suppose you’ll want me to stay the night. Lord Higate’s letter just says the usual?”
“I don’t expect you’ll be leaving before dawn. But as well as presenting you for my delectation,” Lady Blanchet said, as though making small talk, “Lord Higate tells me that Sylvia Sneak is dead.”
“Yes, I suppose it means that Berenice Blackheart and Nadine Next are ruling Surrey between them.”
“I very much doubt it, Tuerqui. It would be nearer the truth to say that no one is ruling Surrey. Only Sylvia, as an intermediary, delayed war between the other two. Now, Mistress Fury[6] is unloosed.”
A return to civil war in Surrey[7] would pose threats to Tuerquelle, Lady Isobel and all of my friends from the University of Pain. For perhaps five minutes, concern for those I’d left behind prevented me from realising that the news would also present me with additional dangers. Not only might Berenice’s and Nadine’s armies imperil me – but also freebooters and foreign troops, including my father’s. Some of the more baleful aspects of my return started to occur to me with a fresh sense of reality.
Sexually engaged with first Lady Blanchet, and later Carrie as well, I tried to place my forebodings to one side. For the most part, I seemed to succeed well enough – only occasionally receiving an enquiring look as my thoughts were clearly elsewhere. The new maid was a lovely girl, and an enthusiastic lover – my chief regret of the night was not being completely present for her. For all of that, as I staggered through the Stableyard Gate at dawn, my feeling was that I’d given satisfaction.
“Jane Jackson said that her letter would wait till morning,” I explained to Lord Higate. “She said it would be a pity to keep Lady Blanchet waiting for such a sweet dessert.”
“Did she, indeed? However sweet a dessert, you look like a girl who’s had a heavy night.”
“That I have.”
“But pleasant, I hope?”
“Yes, pleasant, as well as heavy, Lord Higate.”
“Good. I believe that Miss Miles has gone on to higher things. Does the new maid fit in?”
“She fitted us both perfectly.”
At arms training that afternoon, Bob Bosset had an announcement: “Listen up, girls! Civil war is breaking out in Surrey, and the invasion plans have been made. Our troops are to be despatched on four consecutive days, starting in sixteen days’ time – on the twenty-fifth.”
“How firm is that schedule?” Lisa-Louise asked. “In my experience, there are usually delays.”
“Things can go wrong, there’s no denying that. But the invasion schedule looks workable. So, you should all be prepared to leave on Drizzlemoon 25th.”
“We’re going on the first day of the invasion?” asked a blonde girl called Caroline.
“Yes, you irregulars depart on the first day. Your aim will be to create as much disruption as possible ahead of the main invasion. The following day, the Chieftain’s Own Guard Battalion will set out. Their objective will be to capture Teddy’s Town lock.”
“Should we concentrate our disruption around Teddy’s Town, then?” asked a dark haired girl with a snub nose – I think her name was Florence.
“No – I think it would be better if you could create havoc a little further afield, so as to draw the Surrey guards away from the lock.”
“What happens on the third and fourth days?” Modesty asked.
“On the third day, the twenty-seventh that is, the infantry will depart with the aim of holding the lock. The idea is that the main army can cross the river at that point on the twenty-eighth.”
The training shed stank of the filth mortlings had evacuated in their terror – and of their blood, shed so that young women could acquire military skills. After a minute or two of silence, as we absorbed the idea that we were about to fight – and some of us would surely die – a girl dropped her sword with a loud clatter. Extending my left boot, I scraped the toe cap in a patch of sawdust, dark red with gore. The blade in my right hand felt heavier than usual.
[1] Lady Blanchet was clearly working on behalf of Surrey at this time, although it is not clear what services she performed. After the Fourth Battle of Lundin, she was appointed governess of the city. In this role, she worked hard to promote the town as a centre of commerce and entertainment, while dealing mercilessly with anyone suspected of supporting Tuerqui’s father’s regime. Later, she held a series of other important posts, retiring late in the reign of Berenice I and dying during the first year of Berenice II’s reign.
[2] In fact, this is exactly the same as a speech Miss Miles is said to have made to Phoebe and Mary in Chapter 40. It is hard to believe that Lady Blanchet used exactly the same words. It is also hard to believe that Tuerqui was able to recall exactly what people had said when setting it down much later.
[3] Like nazemen in the pit – a reference to nazeman baiting.
[4] Miss Miles did accompany Baron Leopold back to Ipswidge. The following year, the Marquis of Ipswidge died, and Leopold succeeded to the title. Shortly thereafter, he married Miss Miles. The pair had a long marriage, and seemingly a happy one. They had eight children. As Marquis, Leopold was instrumental in steering East Anglar away from alliance with Essex and Lundin, and towards one with Surrey. The result was the partition of Essex between Surrey and East Anglar, and subsequently East Anglar joining Surrey’s invasion of the Meadowlands. Eventually, of course, Berenice I added East Anglar to her conquests – but, when she did so, the Marquis and his wife were appointed to positions of power in the former kingdom of Ampsher.
[5] Sylvia Sneak died on Drizzlemoon 6th. Both Berenice Blackheart and Nadine Next accused the other of being responsible for her murder. However, it has never been entirely clear whether either was truly responsible or, indeed, whether Sylvia was murdered at all. The precise cause of her death is obscure – and both Berenice and Nadine seem to have had reason to wish to keep Sylvia alive for at least a little longer.
[6] Mistress Fury – a personification of the goddess of war specific to Surrey. If Lady Blanchet is correctly quoted, she was already steeped in the beliefs of Surrey, rather than Lundin.
[7] This was Drizzlemoon 8th, and Surrey was already in a state of civil war.
For Chapter 44 click
http://bondlings.blogspot.com/2008/01/of-bondlings-and-blesh-chapter-44.html
posted by Pet at 6:46 PM
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