Mistress of My Fate (21 page)

Our kisses had begun to grow ever longer, fuller, slower. Then, quite unexpectedly, he parted my lips and tickled my tongue with his. I pulled back and offered him a shy smile.

He laughed. “Does that alarm you? It is what the French do with their mouths.”

He then tried it again. On this occasion, there was some thrill in it, some deeper connection to the kiss, which seemed more gratifying.

As I grew accustomed to this, the gentle rhythm of it, he took my hand and guided it below, where I felt the strange object that had for some time been lying against me. It was stiff and quite long. I jumped in surprise.

“I did not think it was that large!” I cried in horror. “But how? But where? How does it fit?”

Allenham could not contain his laughter. “Oh dear Hetty,” he exclaimed, “you are so perfectly innocent!” He put his forehead to mine as his body shook with mirth. “It is no larger or smaller than any other man’s,” said he modestly, before rolling over to recline upon his elbow. “The male member stiffens so it may enter you.”

“But surely,” said I with some unease, “there is nowhere for it to go.”

“Shall I show you where it is to go?” said he, his eyes glittering with lust. Then he gently moved apart my thighs and ran his fingers along the rim of my nether parts. Until that moment, he had not dared touch me in that most secret of spots, knowing perhaps that such an intimate
approach would have startled me. But I was now so much a captive to love that there was not an inch of my person I did not wish him to possess. His motions, though soft and teasing, grew increasingly insistent, until I felt myself quite stupefied under his touch.

Then, very slowly, there seemed to be a void, which parted as he pushed his finger into it.

I gasped, for it smarted terribly.

He hushed me. “The pain is fleeting. The longer I toy with you, the less you will feel it,” said he, continuing his movements.

Allenham carried on with this task for a long time. I cannot say how long, for I had entirely lost my senses, and time seemed an irrelevance. Little by little, he widened the passage with his fingers. Eventually, he suggested that I was ready to be tried.

For all the caressing and rubbing, kissing and loving that is done prior to the act, let it not fool you, innocent ones; the first approach is grievously painful. It is painful the second time and the third as well, but with each attempt the tearing sting is lessened, until by the fourth or fifth try it has miraculously vanished. Your mother or aunt, your elder married sisters may neglect to tell you all of this, but you should know it, for it is to your benefit to have knowledge of such a thing, no matter how indelicate. New brides should insist their husbands proceed slowly, and in the manner I described above, for it is the least hurtful method. Men can be brutes when they are fired by desire, and have no understanding of the violence they do to the tender parts of maids. Many are inclined to plough us as roughly as they would a frozen field, when in truth what we require is patience and warmth. It is that which thaws us into a pliable state.

It required several attempts before his lordship claimed my virgin prize. In truth, it took the better part of the day and evening, for I felt such pain that he refused to proceed, insisting that he could not bear to harm me. Instead we lay together, entwined and resting, until desire
drove us into the act once more. With each foray, he made greater progress, until I felt his member entirely engulfed by mine.

How strange it was. Never could I have imagined it should be as this, that my small part could accommodate his larger one, that a man should fit inside a woman as a foot into a shoe. Ah, but to know he was within me, that a part of my beloved’s person was melded and blended with my own physical form, was perhaps the greatest joy my mind could comprehend. I was still marvelling at this feat of nature when I became aware that my lover had begun to move inside me. This brought some renewal of the discomfort, but his motions were slow and careful. He watched me all the while to see that I did not recoil with pain. As he saw that I did not, he continued, now with greater urgency, until all at once he gasped and sighed.

For a moment I lay there with my love expired against me, wearing a confused smile. I could not fathom what had occurred, until Allenham looked upon my expression and, amused at my simplicity, let out a roar of laughter.

“My darling,” he exclaimed, half breathless, “you have made me the happiest man alive!” He covered my face with kisses, before drawing back to examine me.

“I have made you expire,” said I apologetically.

He laughed again, this time with so much vigour that he carried me along in his good humour. I too giggled, though I knew not why.

“How I love you, Henrietta,” he sighed. “Expire I did, my angel. I expired from pleasure. I spent my seed.”

I studied him with concern. “Were… were you meant to?”

“Yes. That is the aim of it,” he explained. Then he stroked my cheek and regarded me with such adoration that I believed he might weep. “You must never permit the world to pass censure on you, Hetty, not for committing this deed. There is no evil in love, no sin in it at all.”

I nodded, though uneasily.

“The world will attempt to censure you, you must understand that.”

“I care not for the world.”

“Nor do I,” he exclaimed, kissing me triumphantly. “I hold no love of the laws of man. Monsieur Rousseau says we should be free of such things, free to pursue our true nature, our true inclinations…”

“Free to wander, like Werther…” I chirped.

“Yes, like Werther too. I strive for this, and so must you.” Then he placed both hands at either side of my face and penetrated my eyes with his. “I knew always, from the moment I first looked upon you, that you had a will of your own, Hetty. You did not even recognize it in yourself, but I saw it, which is why I contrived to dance with you that night.”

I gasped in disbelief at his words.

“You cannot mean that?”

“You thought it occurred by chance?” He smirked wickedly.

“But of course.” I was astonished at his admission.

“And I was correct. You are courageous, my love, so courageous. Every day that we were apart my heart yearned for you to come to me. I thought of it every morning; at every private moment, every night before I extinguished the light, I wished it to happen.”

“You willed me to you.” I spoke solemnly.

“We willed it together, and so it has come to pass.” He laid a kiss upon my forehead. “We are joined eternally, as husband and wife.”

His words and tenderness shot a shiver of delight through my heart. I understood then that this act had been irrevocable. While a ring might be pulled from a finger or a marriage dissolved, this deed could never be undone, nor the memory of it lost.

“And the pain, it will pass,” he said with a knowing look, “and soon be replaced by an unimaginable bliss.”

I could not think what he meant, and I asked him what greater pleasure there might be than feeling his naked limbs against mine.

“You think it will always be as unpleasant as this?” He raised a playful
eyebrow to me. “No wife would ever stand for it! The human race would come to an end.”

“No,” I agreed, “it would seem very odd were that the case.”

His languorous blue eyes locked with mine and his mouth began to curl. He enjoyed imparting these carnal lessons to me.

“I shall teach you a thing many ladies do not know, something that a woman herself taught to me.”

Though intrigued by his words, I was also a good deal startled by his frank admission that he had known other ladies before me. Now, to think of my naivety makes me double up with laughter. How else might he have acquired such an understanding of love? Most certainly not from a scientific library!

At no point did I ever enquire about Allenham’s previous conquests, though I have since learned that he was once the favourite of a Milanese countess and later a French noblewoman, long before he had reached his age of three and twenty. And I dare say there were more, a good many more. He was far too handsome to have learned his art from those two alone.

“The pleasurable part of your instruction is to follow,” he promised as he pulled me nearer to him and tenderly smoothed my hair. “The first attempt is but the formality of the business… you will see.” There was a wantonness in his voice as he spoke.

His member, now relaxed, fell free from my passage. As it came away, he tucked the sheet between my thighs, so as to stanch the blood and sticky seed which flowed from me.

So there it is written, a truthful account of how I came to be debauched. I have not disguised my ruin behind pretty prose or written of it with sad regret. My heart did not mourn for the loss of my virtue. Though undone, I did not wail and sob like Clarissa Harlowe. I did not find the act ignoble, lewd or sinful. On the contrary, now that I had shared the very inside of my being with my true love, now that
our souls had mingled, that every space between our persons had been closed, I felt more alive than I had ever been. I might never have otherwise believed that love could be sensed so deeply. In spite of the soreness between my legs, I wished that I might never move from that bed, and I longed eagerly for the next attempt, and the attempt after that!

Does that disgust you?

No, dear readers, I was blessed. Most blessed. Of all the deeds of my life, the one I have never regretted was giving myself entirely to Allenham.

I cannot recall how many days passed after that momentous one. I was scarcely aware of light or dark or the advance of time. The fires were replenished regularly and burned night and day in the grates. Food was brought to us in his drawing room, as was hot water for washing. The servants tripped by on clouds, like Venus’s cherubs, hardly ever making a sound. In truth, we had little use for them, for we never dressed. Allenham stalked about in his chemise, or sometimes in nothing at all, as naked and brazen as a savage. I hid my eyes and he scoffed at my modesty. Though no longer an innocent, I had still a virgin’s sensibilities.

It soon became apparent that my lover relished the informality of our conduct. For all of his cultivated manners and politeness, he rejoiced in abandoning them to laugh and love and be at ease with me. He directed his household that he was not to be disturbed but for matters of importance, and with the exception of two or three occasions, we were left entirely to ourselves.

“You must forgive me, dear heart,” my beloved would apologize when summoned from our bed, “but it is not within my power to keep the cares of the world from my door.” He sighed. “Nor unexpected visitors.”

“A visitor?” I enquired, somewhat concerned by this. I thought at once of my father, or a messenger from Melmouth. Was it possible that he still searched for me? Allenham saw the anxiety upon my face.

“Fear not,” he reassured me, “it is merely a matter of business.” He gave me a kiss and then added in a lowered voice, “Nevertheless, it is of the utmost importance that no one knows you are here.” He kissed me again. “I shall not be long from you, my angel.”

Only briefly did my mind muse on what matters drew him away from me, before I rolled on to the place where he had lain and felt once more his warmth against me. When he returned, it was often with a freshly shaven face and a handful of neglected letters. These he read aloud from our bed, so we might laugh together at the London gossip and dull affairs of others. He greatly enjoyed the game of tearing up invitations to balls and dinners as I watched in horror.

“I shall say it never arrived,” he smirked, scattering the pieces like a child. “Come now,” he would then chide, checking me for my priggishness, “it was from Lady Stafford, who has balls more regularly than she sneezes.” And before I could protest, he would grab me about the waist and with a playful groan lay me on my back. “Besides, I should not like to go without you. I do not wish to be anywhere you are not.”

“And so we shall go nowhere,” said I, quite merrily, between kisses. Though I spoke in jest, I knew the truth of my words, for in spite of the joy I felt in his arms, I understood what sacrifices I had made for that pleasure. In future, there would be many places where I could not venture. My life would be conducted in his shadow, well hidden from view.

Of course, I had always recognized that I was not to live with him at Herberton. That much had been made clear upon my arrival. Propriety would not permit it. But when after several days his lordship received word that Orchard Cottage was prepared, I nevertheless grew terribly apprehensive. My heart was now so tied to his that I could not bear the prospect of a separation or to be uprooted from the safe surroundings of his apartments. His lordship soothed me with his cheerful reassurances, and on the following morning insisted that he himself take me to the house on the boundary of his estate.

A grey mare had been saddled and brought round to the front of the house for me to ride. Allenham lifted me on to the beast, and then, taking the reins in his gloved hands, proceeded to guide us through the flat, grassy stretch of parkland and into the outer rolls and folds of his estate.

As the mare plodded a path through the thick earth, his lordship pointed out the various spots of beauty and interest: the ancient oaks, as old as the bones of Queen Elizabeth; and a well spring, which the local people thought enchanted. “Dear Hetty,” he sighed, “how long I have spent imagining you here, and me beside you. I wish you to love Herberton as do I. I wish it to be your home as much as it is mine.” He gazed up at me from beside the horse, his sharply handsome cheeks brightened by the cool air. In his blue wool coat and unadorned hat, he appeared a simple country gentleman, a man perfectly content to wander among nature. I laughed at this sight. “My own Werther,” I remarked with a smile.

It was to the edge of an ancient orchard that Allenham was leading us, and he carefully guided my mount through the rows of twisted skeleton trees. Their load of apples had only recently been deposited and the ground still lay soft with their rotten corpses, the sweet smell of mouldering fruit present in the breeze. Through the branches, down the ridge I spied the whitewashed walls of a long plaster house, upon which a picturesque bowed window had been installed beside the door. Thin blue trails of smoke issued from its chimneys and into the damp air.