The Observations of a Curious Governess (14 page)

Thus it was that I skulked like some sort of reprobate to the chapel early that morning. The footmen were already about and I inclined my head to the handsome Sinclair, who smiled kindly. Quietly, I made my way down the long corridor and past the statue of Achilles and Penthesilea. I lingered a moment over that work, recalling the day I had first seen it, and the scene in the room beyond. Looking once more at the agonised faces of its subjects, I again felt a hot stab of dissatisfaction at my own lot. How had I moved so swiftly to this place? While I mused this unsatisfactorily for a time I came to think I had I heard sounds coming once more from the Blue Room, but waved it off as fantasy and the imaginings of a tired mind. No one would be up at this hour, certainly not Lord Stanton taking his ease with Nancy.

Thus I walked on, reflecting on the ease with which I now accepted immorality as a part of life here at Stanton. Indeed, I could no longer judge upon such matters, nor could I throw stones at Lord Stanton, or Lady Stanton for that matter, now that I’d sated my own curiosity and needs with Mr Reeves.

Worst of all, my reckless body wished to do so again.

Unbecoming as it was, this I could accept, understand even – was it not natural biological machinations that provoked such lewd desires? Of course it was. No, there was something else that was concerning me. Something I’d only just taken note of.

My monthly courses, or lack thereof.

****

One can almost hear the gasp of shock and dismay from you, dear reader, but do not be so frightfully alarmed. My menses have never been of a consistent or predictable nature. I have never been disturbed by my womb’s predilection to test my patience, as I read once in
The Lady’s Magazine
of the sometimes-irrational nature of the female reproductive organs.

I stepped outside the west exit of the house, as I was certain that Mr Reeves should not walk here, and made my way to the chapel. It was then I heard laughter. I turned back towards the house. A window on the second storey was open, and the curtains too. I was unfamiliar with this wing of the house and could not say for certain to whom the room belonged. Yet as I walked further from the house, the same sounds were carried on the breeze to my ears. I turned once more, glancing up at the window.

The sun made seeing difficult, but still, the scene I observed was quite a revelation. In truth, I should not have been surprised, really I should not. Yet I was, and still remain absurdly fascinated by what I witnessed there.

Through the window, I could clearly see three figures, all of whom were moving in and out of view, and obviously in varying stages of undress. This in itself may not be a surprising scene; mayhap Lady Stanton has Miller and another maid to assist her in dressing of a morning. A likely explanation, indeed. Yet the fact that one of those figures was male – noticeably male – was what intrigued me. The figures, even at this distance, were quite unmistakeable. The round, swollen form of Lady Stanton, her hair untied, stood by the window seat, and her husband stood before her. He was significantly taller than she, and though I could not make out the details of his face, I was confident that his gaze was rapt upon her. Beside them both was a figure I also recognised, but I could truly not understand why she was there. Miller sat on the window seat, her back to the window and her maid’s cap still in place. She stayed close to her mistress. Her hands, as I have seen them before, danced over Her Ladyship’s body, whilst His Lordship clearly watched on.

I dared not move. If I moved, would I not then attract attention beyond the window?

Then some mercenary, rude part of me decided that I did not care. What would they do, even if they espied me watching? Very little, it seemed, perhaps even give me financial recompense for the damage done to my virtue.

So I watched with fascination the three of them, all tentative and touching. There was laughter, His Lordship’s familiar bray. It carried on the morning breeze, accompanied by the softest of feminine moans. Forsooth, I cannot be at all certain of what I saw, but my imagination filled the images my eyes could not.

So large with breeding was Her Ladyship that I saw His Lordship bend her over a chair and mount her the only way I imagined was possible for one in her state. He rocked against her, sending her large breasts swaying. As he did, Miller kissed and stroked Her Ladyship. There was such unexpected gentleness in the gestures that I felt tears prick my eyes. Should this scene not repulse me? Indeed it should. Yet it did not. Instead, I found myself pained by it, wishing that Mr Reeves may once again offer me such gentle worship.

As their passions mounted, I watched as they shifted positions. I was mistaken when I expected His Lordship to mount Miller as he had done Her Ladyship, for he did not. Her Ladyship, however, took the moment to stroke and caress her maid. I can only suppose she was once more fingering those wet, slick nether lips to evoke the cries that carried on the breeze, for I could see little detail from my vantage point in the garden.

Miller must have reached her crisis soon after, as there was slight crescendo in cries followed by more desperate male mutterings. It appeared then that His Lordship and Her Ladyship were in need of their own release, because Lady Stanton furiously resumed her former position with her husband. He rutted at her again, and she gave a high wail, clearly audible to anyone in the gardens.

My skin prickled and I flushed. I watched the distant figure of Lord Stanton once more began his steady lovemaking, occasionally plunging harder into his wife to evoke a wild exclamation of pleasure. I was mesmerised by this passionate lovemaking.

My sex was slick now from this scene, and my heart wretched. For I desperately wanted this passion for myself, but I wanted it with Mr Reeves, from whom I had fled.

Very soon after, His Lordship’s rut became more wild and Her Ladyship’s cries more keening. Then, as one, they met their combined crises. His Lordship clutched onto his wife, and his wife clutched her maid.

A pained cry seemed to fall from my own lips then, and I could watch no longer. My body hungered, my heart cried, and my mind whirled in impossible confusion. For a moment I verily felt the world begin to spin. Understand, I am not a woman who allows such weakness; thus it was that I took a great breath and fled to the chapel for respite.

As one may perhaps imagine, it took some time to recompose myself. I hoped most ardently that none in that room had seen my frightfully shambling run from the gardens to the church. Whilst there I took time to pray and reconcile myself once more with my lot; not an easy thing to do when one finds oneself as awkwardly positioned as I am.

****

I took half an hour to rest and salvage my wits in the chapel. I must say, it is truly a lovely place of worship. I do not understand why the Stantons don’t visit it more often. No, that was foolish, of course I know why. They avoid church and chapel, as I avoided church the previous day – for our choices, our behaviours and thoughts do not follow those holy doctrines preached there. I have come to wonder if perhaps listening to the sounds of sermon and worship does not serve to lead us to salvation, as we should like to hope, but drags us deep back to immorality in the shame of how far we have sunk.

It was on my walk back to my room that I heard the sounds of significant domestic unquiet. ‘What is it?’ I asked as Jenny rushed past carrying a bundle of cloth, whist another maid held a kettle of steaming water.

An extraordinarily loud moan echoed down the corridor.

‘It’s Milady – she’s gone all sudden into childbed,’ Jenny whispered. ‘His Lordship’s gone himself for the physician. Never been around for a birthin’ he hasn’t,’ she added as she bustled along and I dutifully followed. ‘Should have seen the look o’ horror on his face.’ She gave a slight chuckle, before Mrs Roberts afforded her a sharp glance and rushed in the opposite direction.

The moaning subsided, and I heard voices in the room. I knew from my studies of feminine biology that birthing went through lulls and crescendos, but little else on the subject. ‘How long shall it be?’ I asked, perplexed by the sudden silence.

‘Oh, it’s early yet. Her pains are bad, but not quick. Hours yet, I’d say.’ Jenny must have caught my utterly appalled look. ‘Never fear, Her Ladyship bears them well, and timely too.’

Had her birthing been brought on by those unmentionable activities I’d witnessed but an hour past? Could she have somehow damaged herself? Or, Heaven forbid, her child? I knew that it was common practice to abstain from coital activity during confinement and thought there may be merit to it.

I then felt a flash of irritation – could His Lordship not have abstained from his wife a little longer? What if there had been some grievous damage done?

***

The sounds of a rumbling carriage shortly indicated the arrival of the physician. I spent my time with the children, who seemed to take their mother’s wails of pain with great stoicism. I cannot imagine how I should have felt listening to mine own mother go through such suffering, and found myself grateful I had not.

At length, Her Ladyship’s cries of distress and discomfort reached their height and shortly thereafter were accompanied by the exultant exclamation of the physician and the reedy cries of a newborn babe. I can report that Milady was delivered of a healthy girl, whom they named Elizabeth.

Master Alexander and Miss Helen were thoroughly thrilled when Miller came to announce the arrival of a sister. Master Alexander was desperate to see the new addition, but the physician advised caution and time for Lady Stanton to recover before her other children met the new arrival. Lord Stanton, however, seemed not to care for such caution. At the sound of the infant’s first cries, I declare I have never seen a man so relieved.

The man I had come to know as a cad, philanderer and general scoundrel lost his composure completely at the sound of his newborn daughter’s cries. I witnessed him streak down the corridor and fly past the nursery with a choked cry to join his wife and their new babe in recovery.

I confess to feeling nearly tearful myself. After such a conflux of emotions, from the scene in the morning, to the emotional storm the babe’s arrival elicited, I found myself scarcely able to contain myself. I was staring out the window upon those magnificent grounds, trying to stem the burning of my eyes, when I felt a gentle hand upon my shoulder draw me back.

‘Miss Swan.’

It was Miller. She was soiled with the evidence of birth and anxiety. Small spots of blood spattered her apron, and perspiration dampened her collar and curled her hair beneath her wilted cap.

‘Miss Miller,’ I returned, not certain how to address this woman, who clearly held such a high position in the house. ‘I gather the birthing has gone well?’

Miller smiled, her eyes glowing with undeniable pleasure and pride. ‘Why, yes indeed. Milady has excelled herself once again. We shall watch her carefully over the next few days for signs of birth fever, but she is admirably strong in breeding. I do not doubt she will recover quickly.’

‘It is truly wonderful news,’ I agreed, and meant it.

There was a lull in conversation.

‘I believe I saw you this morning in the gardens,’ she said eventually, and at this my heart started. ‘You were outside the west wing, unless I am mistaken.’

It was unnecessary to deny. I had not tried to hide my presence that morning, but had watched in fascination their lovemaking.

‘So I was,’ I agreed with as much honesty as I believed this peculiar family deserved.

‘I had thought so. His Lordship caught sight of you as well as I. Her Ladyship, however, remains ignorant.’

‘I see,’ I said, though I did not. I had not noticed any of the participants in the morning’s orgy indicate knowledge of my presence – but then at the distance, I could not be certain. ‘Am I to be dismissed, then?’ I asked, my tone increasingly cold.

Miller scoffed at me in a completely inappropriate fashion. ‘Of course not. You have been a paragon of discretion – and I am sure you are aware how much the Stantons appreciate discretion.’

‘Indeed,’ I agreed, ‘I am thankful for it.’ Truly, I was. I had earned more guineas in my short time of employ than an ordinary governess may earn in a year.

Miller hesitated a moment, before continuing. ‘His Lordship asked that I approach you to ascertain your feelings on our morning’s folly and establish if you are in need of compensation.’ The maid’s usually pale cheeks flushed slightly.

‘My feelings? Compensation?’ He was once more to buy my silence, I realised.

‘Indeed,’ Miller continued. ‘His Lordship believes that you may be in want of financial recompense for any embarrassment caused in witnessing our … activities.’ Her blush deepened.

I wanted to laugh, I wished to cry! I fear my response to this was a little of both.

‘Miss Miller!’ I exclaimed. ‘I require naught. I have not dwelled upon it, nor shall I. What matters occur betwixt you and the Stantons shall remain your intimate business. Fear not, I need no more coin to silence my tongue.’

Miller’s complexion returned to its usual pale. ‘If you are certain,’ she said. ‘Yet, forgive me, Miss Swan. I cannot help but notice that you have not been your normal cheerful self of late. If discomfort over Stanton’s unusual friendships is not the cause of your unhappiness, I must know what is.’

I must have looked startled, for she chided ‘Oh, do not deny it, Miss Swan!’ when I began to make noises of dissent. Her voice softened. ‘Her Ladyship and I have noticed how little you smile.’

I thought back on all I had witnessed during my time at Stanton. Did their lusty, sinful ways distress me and cause me this melancholia? Of course not. No, it is my own lack of fortune with Mr Reeves that has caused my depressed mood.

‘It is difficult to say,’ I admitted. ‘In truth, at first I was distressed, and I cannot deny that my innocence has perhaps suffered from Stanton’s unusual habits. Yet, I cannot say that it has caused my melancholia.’

‘Then what has?’ she asked gently. ‘We are not ignorant. We know that our habits here are Stanton may well cause distress to those unaccustomed to such circumstances – but if it is as you say then there must be some other reason for your unhappiness.’