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A Noblewoman's Fall

Victorian Taboo Erotica

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A. Vivian Vane

Copyright 2014 by A. Vivian Vane

First Edition

Cover image copyright 2014 by Lacey Lucette

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This is a work of fiction intended for adult audiences only. All persons depicted are imaginary, and any similarities to real people, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any characters depicted in sexual situations are at least 18 years of age.

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"Just one tavern, Mary! You know you want to!"

The Honorable Mary Smythe, noblewoman of theoretically good repute, groaned and snuck a quick look around to make sure no one was watching. The flame-haired woman tugging playfully on her hand, Jennifer Cooney, was decidedly
not
noble, nor of good repute, and she was attracting entirely too much attention.

"But
Jenny," Mary protested, "the manor's still nearly a mile away. Don't you want to see the new home?

In a flash, Jennifer went from straining Mary's arm like a leash to twining herself about the dark-haired noblewoman. A sturdy, paneled bodice kept Mary's breasts from
pressing too obscenely against Jennifer's, but her companion made a good effort at it all the same, rubbing at Mary like a cat.

"Of course I want to see our home," the redhead protested, looking pouty. "A house and lands all to ourselves, except when your brother's
home, and we both know how often that's likely to be with him such a wanderer these days -- it's so exciting! But we should have a drink first to celebrate." Laughing, she broke away again, bobbing ahead of Mary with a dancing step that was not at all appropriate for a lady's maid. "You should see the town before they know who you are. It'll never be the same once they do. One tavern. On the way home. I'll never tell anyone, I swear."

She made a solemn face and crossed her heart with two fingers, and Mary had to smile. She shook her head resignedly. Jennifer always won, somehow.

They made an unlikely pair to look at, and an even unlikelier one still for a nobleman's daughter and her maid just returned from a tour of the Continent. Mary was tall and athletic (betraying, she feared, her common blood), with short black hair in an efficient bob and dresses that did their best to contain her inconveniently oversized breasts. Jennifer, on the other hand, was a flame-haired wisp with a tiny waist and a broad, rolling set of hips, and if she was not quite as well-endowed as Mary she surely made up the difference in exaggerated sway and necklines that, if not outright scandalous, at least flirted with the term as shamelessly as Jennifer flirted with, well, everyone.

Traveling alone together, they were the perfect pair. Jennifer was marvelously clever, and never short on amusing ideas to keep them entertained, while Mary's calm temper and good-natured willingness to make the best of any situation staved off the occasional impending disaster when Jennifer's plans overshot their abilities. They covered one another's weaknesses and complemented one another's strengths nicely, to such an extent that Mary's adoptive parents -- the Baron and Baroness Lisle -- had been willing to entrust their odd, foundling daughter to her maid's tender cares for most of their Continental tour. The old couple had stayed on at Le Havre, and planned to remain there indefinitely, trusting the
newly established Lisle estate in Ireland to Mary's older brother and Mary to her maid.

Traveling abroad, that worked wonderfully, at least so far as Mary was concerned. In the
county where they would be making their home for the foreseeable future, well...in the county was different.

Sighing, Mary followed as Jennifer twirled and giggled her way past startled farmers and tradesmen. There was only one cobbled street through the town, the largest and only one near the
ir new estate, but it seemed well supplied with taverns, and Jennifer had clearly set her sights on a rowdy one.

It wasn't that Mary
minded
taverns, exactly. They were a perfectly acceptable place to get business done, as far as she was concerned, and it didn't take much in the way of common sense to tell the ones where women were welcome from the ones that should be avoided. But every time they went into one, it seemed, Jennifer found something to occupy Mary and then vanished off to enjoy forms of entertainment Mary knew next to nothing about -- and was fairly sure she didn't want to know about, either.

For a noblewoman, her worldly education was quite broad. Mary had been a slightly eccentric decision on the part of her noble
stepparents: when an infant girl had appeared on their doorstep one stormy night, they'd chosen to raise her themselves, rather than sending her to a convent or a charity school. Despite adopting her officially into the noble family a few years later, the Baron and Baroness Lisle had never shown much interest in holding Mary to any strict aristocratic standards; it was as if her common birth -- never mentioned, but always known -- excused her from most expectations of propriety.

(Then again, her older brother Jack was no model of propriety himself. Mary supposed it was possible that the elderly and undeniably odd baronial couple were simply not very good parents, or at least not very normal ones as
far as their class reckoned it.)

Regardless, Mary's freewheeling childhood and similarly unstructured adolescence had exposed her to more of what went on between married men and women (and unmarried ones, too) than most noblewomen saw, but everything below the waist was still something of a mystery to her, and she had been content to leave it that way until Jennifer started teasing her suggestively about it.

Since then, Mary had grown even more determined to ignore the sexual side of life. There was no sense in letting the redheaded minx win
everything.

A few steps ahead of Mary, Jennifer had bounced her merry way past the threshold of a warm, well-lit tavern, and was already laying coins on the bar. Mary
suspected they were from her traveling purse, and not Jenny's own pay, but technically they were still on their way home. She let it slide.

"Porter, please!" Jennifer chirped, bright and sunny and even showing a little of the native brogue she normally took pains to extinguish from her speech. "And ale for, um, my friend here."

Mary flashed a grateful look at Jennifer, who had at least managed to remember not to blurt her name out in front of everyone. Drinking in a tavern was not the first impression she thought even her relaxed parents would want her to make on their neighbors and tenants. Somewhat mollified by her maid's rare show of discretion, Mary even consented to take a sloshing from Jennifer's hand and sip at it, though her experiences in British taverns had been decidedly mixed, compared to the more refined establishments of the Continent. To her pleasant surprise, the ale was inoffensive -- a little beery, a little sour, and not much more. Clearly the tavern wasn't trying to impress anyone, but the bland stuff went down easily.

"Jenny," she said warningly, leaning in close so that her maid could hear her over the noise of the crowd, "Just one, all right? One and then
home.
" Her lips brushed the shorter woman's ear for a moment.

Giggling, Jennifer nodded and winked. "Alright," she agreed, "Just one -- for you. We'll go as soon as yours is done!" Then she threw back her head and her tankard in one smooth go. Mary watched in dismay as her friend's throat gurgled rhythmically, pouring the whole mug down without pause. "Another!" Jenny cried, whipping the empty tankard away from her lips. "A good, strong one!"

With a sigh, Mary lifted her own mug. Crossing the Channel, England, and the Irish Sea was easy business, compared to getting Jennifer bedded down someplace safe without letting her disgrace herself too badly!

It was going to be a long night.

~

"Jennifer," Mary said in a firm voice. It was louder than it needed to be, she realized, especially on the soft and silent dirt path that wound up toward the waiting manor house. The sun had set as they walked from town to the estate, but the moon was bright and the summer air warm and wet. "Jennifer," she repeated, more quietly, "I think you cheated. At the last tavern. That was two drinks! It was not one drink. It was two." She burped, tasting strange things, and made a face. Getting her words out without trailing off into a mumble or breaking down into helpless giggles was proving strangely challenging. Mary suspected the whiskey had something to do with it.

Swaying beside her, Jennifer stuck out her tongue. "Not two drinks!" she insisted. "They pour the whisky
inna
beer. Makes it one drink. Not two."

Mary sighed and fumbled for the keys she had been given at the start of their voyage. Most of the luggage had been sent on ahead, but at her request the place had been shut back up, so that she and Mary would be the only ones there until
her brother Jack returned from some unspecified (and probably scandalous) errand that had taken him down to London.

Somehow, "one drink and then home" and turned into "one drink and then home" at
each
of the taverns Jennifer ducked into on their way up the town street, with the result that home was rather more drinks away than Mary had planned. She did not feel quite out of her head with drink, but she was not at her most stable, either.

It took two tries to get inside the door, and both of them stumbled and bumped their way around piles of unsorted luggage until Jennifer finally found a candle and some parlor matches.
"Not even electrified yet," she mumbled as the match flared and caught the wick. Both of them peered blearily around a rather rustic-looking front hall and up a creaky flight of stairs.

"Well," Mary said, squinting against the glare of the candle and wishing her head would stop spinning, "the beds will be upstairs, I expect. Shall we look through the trunks for blankets and things, or hope the servants made
a bed up before they left?"

"I'm sure they did," Jenny said hurriedly. Both of them eyed the imposing piles of boxes with distaste. Mary allowed herself to be convinced, and started up the stairs.

Both of them stumbled on the way up, bouncing off bannisters and alternating between giggles and curses. Mary somehow got it into her head to kick one of her boots off halfway up (a process that involved bending over, struggling with the laces, and bumping her bustle-supported skirts against Jennifer's startled face). Finally, the pair stumbled into the first bedroom they found, and were delighted to see its bed fully made up with linen sheets and a cozy-looking blanket.

"Oh thank God," Jennifer said, setting the candle down on a dresser. An empty wine bottle with some flowers stuck in it already stood there; clearly someone on the staff had done his or her best to approximate a vase with the materials on hand. "
Here. Turn around. I'll get you undone."

Mary allowed herself to be turned, and lifted her arms as Jennifer unhooked the back of her dress and began unlacing the corset beneath it. "I don't know how you can wear this thing all day," she commented. "Or how you can strap
that bosom down! Come here, you." She spun Mary around, and her nimble fingers made short work of the buttons on the front of the dress; Mary squawked indignantly as Jennifer stripped her briskly of not only her dress and corset but the starched shirt beneath. Her soft breasts bounced free, clad in only a thin camisole, and she thrust a forearm under them for support.

"Jennifer!" she chided. "That's enough. I'll...I'll take care of the rest in my room."

The redhead pouted, bending to unfasten the straps of Mary's bustle. With a bit of wriggling, they got her out of that, too, and Jennifer immediately untied the drawers beneath and started pulling them down.

"You mean you're not sleeping with me tonight?" she asked, looking up from her crouch near Mary's waist and making her lower lip tremble
playfully. "But I get so lonely."

Mary rolled her eyes. Jennifer, she had discovered in their travels, got flirty when she drank. To be fair, the maid also started out flirty, but it got worse when she drank. Her nighttime cuddles, usually welcome
for their warmth (and unavoidable, in travel beds), could grow a bit aggressive for Mary's tastes after an evening at the taverns.

"Somehow I think you'll survive," she said.
"Hey! Don't do that." Her maid had slipped the camisole off Mary's shoulders, revealing a soft and ample expanse of cleavage. Jennifer giggled and gave the bouncing breasts a loving squeeze. Mary squeaked, her nipples stiffening embarrassingly in the cold house.

"You damn drunk." Mary shook her head and grabbed the laces of Jennifer's bodice. The maid wore no corset or bustle, which made yanking her simple dress loose much easier, and Mary had the whole thing up over Jennifer's head in a few quick tugs. "All right, then. Off with your clothes, too. I'm putting you to bed, missy, and you've only yourself to thank for the head you'll have in the morning."

Squirming, Jennifer shrugged out of the dress, and skinned out of her own camisole while she was at it. Her naked torso slid free, slim at the waist and prettily curved upward into the swells of her soft breasts with their tiny, berry-pink nipples. "Ooh, do I get head in the morning?" she giggled, winking. It was another of those jokes that Mary was not quite sure she got, but followed the gist of well enough. "Why, Mary! I always assumed I'd be the one performing..." She trailed off invitingly, wagging her eyebrows; inviting comment.

Mary knew she shouldn't, but her friend's tone was too expectant to resist. She sighed. "Why did you always assume that, Jennifer?" she prompted obediently, knowing her maid would just pout until she offered up the straight line.

Jennifer laughed with glee and yanked Mary's camisole off. Mary squawked indignantly, unable to fend Jenny's advances off with one arm devoted to holding up her heavy breasts. They bounced despite her embrace: huge, soft mounds of pale flesh, capped with wide areolae and thick, light brown nipples. "Because I'm the one with the nimble tongue!" Mary cried triumphantly. "Get it? You're the calm, quiet kind, and I'm the talky one? That's our relationship." She nodded knowingly. "Mustn't go against type."