The Observations of a Curious Governess (7 page)

I coughed to disguise another insane giggle. ‘Really, I have no notion what you speak of. Truly, I heard nothing out of the ordinary,’ I lied.

In truth, poor Mr Reeves looked at me if I were destined for Bedlam – it lasted but a moment, however, before his gaze softened. ‘Dear Miss Swan, you must indeed be feeling unwell. Let me take you back to the house.’

* * *

This night, I found another golden guinea on my bureau, beside another of His Lordship’s cards. This time, penned in a lovely hand were the words:

Thank you
.

Well, dearest reader, what I have become? Accepting coin for silence, does it make my ears whores?

****

Friday 18
^th
June 1813

Well, what scandal! I had thought in my naivete that I had seen it all – clearly I was mistaken. What I have seen this day hardly compares in its grotesquery.

Again I was plagued by that awful longing betwixt my legs. I have grown in strength however, to deny those urges when awakened – but as my charges napped, I found I could not find respite in my rooms. My sex on these occasions becomes dewy, and thoughts of amoral scenes cross my mind. I find that a brisk walk is one of the few things that can rid me of the thoughts and longings. So I took myself for a stroll this afternoon.

I took myself about the gardens to little avail, and thus returned to the library in the belief that a novel or some other form of mind-improving literature may ease me.

For all Lord Stanton’s faults, I admit that his library at Stanton is a marvellous one, the books and room of an excellent sort. Most times when in the library, I have searched out books that may assist in my teaching of the children, rather than for my own enjoyment. However, today I found myself browsing a shelf, only to discover a book that had not been replaced. This in itself was highly unusual, as the staff at Stanton usually leave nothing out of its place. The book lay innocently enough on the shelf. Habit bade me to pick it up, and return it to its correct position. It was heavy and clearly well-thumbed. I looked at the author, and frowned; the name was unfamiliar. Quite curious now, I opened it to discover what manner of book it was. It was a book of poetry. I am fond of fine poetry. I often find that it eases the fractious mind through its thought-provoking stanzas and beautifully scripted rhymes.

Absently I turned a page and read ‘An Essay on a Woman’, by a man named Wilkes. I vaguely remembered the name from somewhere, but I was not strong with late century poets in my personal repertoire. Intent upon my reading, I stepped back from the bookshelf to get better light from the window, while my mind began registering the words on the page.
Throbbing panting breasts…
pricks, cunts… hymen bursting
. Words I had never thought to see written upon a page. My heart started to pound and my body roared with heat. Scandalous words, words I’d scarcely ever heard uttered filtered into my mind, making my sex swell with longing. My hands tightened about the book, my eyes absorbing each terrible word with incredible speed. I found myself unable to withdraw from the text, and it was at that most inopportune of times the door to the library opened.

My heart stuttered, and I looked in abject horror from the door to the scandalous book in my hands. Lord preserve me! No one should ever see me reading such content. I had a moment of pure debility, in which I found myself unable to release the book and put it back. After a second, I scampered backward towards the window curtains, for the time to return the book to its shelf had passed.

As I covered myself behind the curtains, I instantly regretted my decision to hide. I ought just have placed the book back on the shelf and gone about my business. No one would be the wiser, unless they took abnormal interest in the readings of a governess. Now however, I was hiding behind curtains
with
the incriminating book. What a fool!

I glanced down at the book again, as the sounds of footfall and the door closing reached my ears. As I have mentioned, my treacherous and weak will towards the desires of my loins has been fuelled of late, and shall be no doubt ignited further by the content of that wicked book.

The new occupants of the library let out feminine laughter.

‘You are looking very fine this day, Bess.’ The voice was that of Her Ladyship.

‘Why thank you Ceecee.’ There was laughter in Miller’s voice. ‘Pray, why have you taken me from my duties?’

‘Taken you from your duties?’ Her Ladyship tutted, ‘
I am
your duty.’

‘So you are.’ There was more conspiratorial laughter.

What could she possibly mean? Then I recognised them – the voices, that is. The same teasing tone. I understood at that moment that Her Ladyship had been speaking with Miller the first time I had overheard that peculiar conversation.

I found myself creeping closer to the gap in the curtains to see them, then instantly wished I had not – for the sight that met mine eyes was one I could never have imagined, not even in a Sapphic poem.

Her Ladyship’s hands dwelt, most inappropriately, upon the bust of Miller. Lady Stanton’s small, white hands, bedecked with several shimmering rings, folded themselves around the breasts of her maid as if sampling some round, ripe fruit.

‘You are such a balm to me, Bess,’ she whispered, and brought her lips to the throat of her maid, just above her collar. ‘I know not what I should do without you.’

Her words were spoken so softly and with such thick emotion, I felt a reciprocal pity for the lady swell in my bosom. I watched Miller then, her eyes fallen to half-mast. She lowered her head, and captured her mistress’ face in her hands.

‘Ceecee, you should do well enough without me, I am certain,’ she said, then lowered her head and kissed her mistress. Their lips touched tenderly, before the act deepened with desire.

I watched it this interaction with fascination and amazement. One of the ladies, I knew not which, moaned. There was as much affection within this scene as passion – something I hadn’t even imagined could exist betwixt two women.

‘You know how things are, Bess. If it weren’t for you and the children… I’d…’ Lady Stanton whispered, and was silenced by Miller’s lips once more. ‘Let me love you, let me show you how very much I care for you.’

Miller offered Her Ladyship a genuine smile. ‘I have always known how your marriage is, and I shall always offer you solace. I always have. You need not act out your affections, for I know them, and reciprocate them.’

Her Ladyship shook her head. ‘I love you, Bess, and this day shall be yours. I want to see you lose your sensibility while I kiss you betwixt those delectable thighs,’ Lady Stanton whispered, her hands finding their way to the twin mounds of her maid’s bust once more.

Well, this was quite the wicked revelation! I had thought I had verily seen and heard all in my short employ at Stanton. Clearly, I was mistaken. I could not believe that Her Ladyship wished to kiss her maid
there,
in that most forbidden place. I had not even thought such an act existed. What would it taste like? I wondered. And heaven forbid, what would it feel like?

Then, for just the briefest of moments, I imagined Mr Reeves doing such to me. My loins wetted and I bit my lip. Would Mr Reeves taste and kiss my secret dew, as Lady Stanton so clearly wished to do to her maid? What would he say? Longing verily rocked my body. I wanted him to do as such, I realised. Heavens forgive me.

Curiosity be damned, but I
had
to see this scene. So I craned my neck to observe them better. Miller’s own hands left her sides, and curled around Her Ladyship’s breeding belly. They embraced a long moment, the maid, taller than her mistress, offering solace and comfort. As well she should. Her Ladyship must indeed need it, married to a cad such as Stanton.

‘Ceecee,’ Miller responded with deeply audible affection, her dark eyes never leaving those of her mistress. For a moment the ladies separated, and I could see the large, swollen belly of Her Ladyship. Contrary to what most believe, breeding did not appear to make Lady Stanton cumbersome or awkward. The lady moved with purpose, leading her maid to the couch to the left of the room.

For a moment, the couple were obscured by curtains, but I moved to a new angle and found my view refreshed. Miller by this stage had reclined upon the floral couch, and Her Ladyship moved and knelt before her. I watched with continued amazement those small white hands lift the maid’s skirts with practiced and deft motions. Miller wore no drawers, I noticed, and the soft white flesh of her thighs was revealed. The sun shone through the large window near the couch, and Miller’s legs glistened with soft auburn-coloured hair.

With no hesitation, Miller’s legs parted, and I was offered a glimpse of her sex. It was clothed in dark curls and her secret nether lips were plump and a deep pink. My own sex throbbed in response. The scene was certainly from one of those forbidden artists I’d heard whispered about.

Devilishly, I considered then how one such as I could even commence an act of such wickedness with another. If I wished to engage Mr Reeves in such a thing, how could one possibly initiate it?

Not that I would ever do so, you understand.

I heard Her Ladyship chuckle and without preamble leant in and kissed her,
there
. Good Lord in Heaven, I have never dreamt such a scene could be so wicked, or so very exciting. My loins tightened as I watched Miller’s head thrust backward, and her cap fall from her dark curls. ‘Oh Ceecee,’ she moaned.

I could not see at this angle the exact actions of Her Ladyship’s mouth, but the scene proved to be one of the most shocking I had witnessed. Her Ladyship’s head was verily buried between the thighs of her maid, and the maid seemed to be moaning with greater and increasing fervour. Her Ladyship’s hands gripped Miller’s thighs, and held them wide to get access to her sex. Diabolical though it may have been, I wished that I could see more of what Her Ladyship did there. Clearly she must be licking her maid’s quim, but, as I watched dry-mouthed, one of Her Ladyship’s hands left the maid’s thigh, and insinuated itself in a more southerly direction.

Miller gave a weakened cry of pleasure, and Lady Stanton’s hand began to move, backwards, then forwards, in a most regimental fashion. I realised then that she was rutting Miller with her fingers and simultaneously coaxing pleasure from that sweet hard nub I’d so recently discovered the pleasures of!

I had no notion women could do such things together.

It was astonishing.

It was wicked – most certainly.

It was arousing – beyond reason.

As my numb hands gripped that filthy book, I could not help but wish Mr Reeves may do this me so that I too may experience the raptures that Miller clearly was finding herself in. To imagine Mr Reeves’ dark, curled hair buried betwixt my own thighs made me nearly cry with longing. It seemed everyone in this house gained this intimate satisfaction in some illicit rendezvous.

Except me.

What a bitter, immoral thought!

Soon, Miller’s legs began to flinch, the motions seemingly involuntary. Her hands found Lady Stanton’s head, eased themselves beneath her mistress’ cap, and entwined with her deep auburn hair. Within a second more, the maid cried out as Her Ladyship’s hand thrust forwards a little more firmly, then was still.

I did not dare even breathe as the two women recovered from their exertions. After a moment or two, Miller pulled her mistress’ head from its resting place on her thigh and recovered her skirts.

‘Come here, Ceecee,’ she whispered and patted the couch.

Her Ladyship looked up, her expression vaguely dazed.

‘You do not need to reciprocate just now,’ Lady Stanton said, and made her way to the couch.

‘Tonight then,’ Miller said, ‘after your toilette?’

‘Yes,’ Her Ladyship replied, and instead of sitting beside her maid on the couch, she curled up, resting her head on her maid’s lap. ‘But I am weary now.’

Miller’s angular face softened as she looked down upon her mistress, ‘Then rest a while, my darling,’ she said, and stroked her mistress’ cheek as she closed her eyes, her lips playing with a slight smile as she swiftly fell into a slumber.

Well, what was I to do? I couldn’t linger overlong in the library, for my charges would soon be ready for their evening lessons! Yet I could not reveal myself to Miller and Her Ladyship after witnessing the erotic and sinful spectacle they had just partaken in. Furiously worried, I lingered a little time longer, hoping Her Ladyship may stir. Yet, she did not. Nay, she lay there upon her maid and lover’s lap for what seemed an inordinately long time. Miller remained as she was, gazing patiently out the window closest to her – no doubt enjoying her post coital quiet. I on the other hand was as tense as bow. I shrank back closer to my window. There was a wide sill there. I sank down upon it, gripping the hateful book that had caused me this trouble.

After a time, my legs were verily tingling with nerves. I couldn’t linger any longer. The slattern wet nurse would be searching for me, and would no doubt relish enlightening the formidable (if not ancient) Nanny Parker of my tardiness.

Then I had a clever notion.

Mayhap I could pretend to have fallen asleep on the window seat, and woken just now. I could perhaps convince the ladies I had seen and heard naught and thus make my escape with them none the wiser. For who knew how long Her Ladyship would slumber there?

I had made up my mind, so without waiting, I placed the damned book on the seat and affected a loud and elaborate yawn and sigh, then stirred visibly behind the curtain.

‘Who goes there?’ Miller’s voice was sharp and panicked.

I pulled the curtains past to reveal myself and rubbed my eyes, feigning sleepiness. I waited but a moment, pretending my sleepy eyes had to focus, then widened my gaze in alarm. ‘

Miss Miller!’ I cried, then covered my mouth with my hand.

Miller looked from me down to her sleeping mistress.

‘Forgive me,’ I hurried, disallowing her a word in. ‘I fell asleep behind the curtains just now, and I ….’ I hesitated and looked down, wringing my hands in what I hoped she should take for agitation. ‘I fear I may be late for my afternoon classes with the children!’