The Poacher by Karen Blayne

Oh by the way red tape first.

Be warned these short stories contain mature content or naughty bits and as such may corrupt you if you’re under 12, 16, 18, 21 or 25 depending where you live thus if they are not suitable for you put them back on the shelf and let them age for a year or two.

They were sort of scribbled for fun. copyright is retained by the author. ©2018

Luv Karen

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Sailor, Rich Man, Poor Man, Beggar Man, Thief.  Life was so much simpler when she was younger. Hariet wondered what would become of herself being neither fish nor fowl. Her dad earned a good wage being foreman so that excluded most workmen. Gentry was out of the question and as for a London Ball where she’d flutter her eye lashes then run off leaving only her glass slipper behind well it had been a nice nursery story but she was older now. Mum had faith that someone would turn up one day and in the meantime it was fun helping her dad doing the accounts. She had her doubts about the next job. She’d spoken to Mr. Loynd the banker when he’d visited the site “Aspden’s a bit flash for the likes of me.” Still as her dad said he had money and the mill would bring in work. She’d watch the pennies though and make sure everyone was paid and paid promptly. They’d accept two percent off for cash payment within seven days and Aspden would like the idea of two percent off every invoice.

Viscount Courtenay reread the letter again. Five hundred pounds lost gambling in one night. Still what did he expect younger sons weren’t courted by the ton what else was there for them to do in London. He hoped his younger son wouldn’t be as bad but you never can tell who would lead them into temptation. He looked up across at the two maids who were kissing in his library not having noticed him buried in the armchair. He smiled to himself the very thing. “You two over here.” Betty looked in horror at her friend MaryAnne. “No dawdling. At once.” Reluctantly the two maids approached him. He lent across and pulled the bell rope and a footman made his appearance. “Fetch me Perkins at the double.” Moments later his butler Perkins made his appearance. “Mi Lord?” He handed him the letter which Perkins read through rapidly. “I’d prefer not to see my son take up gambling for such stakes. These two will distract him from thoughts of London for a year. See to it. You may spend a monkey.” He arose from the armchair and left the problem with the butler.

“You two the housekeeper’s room immediately.” Fearfully the girls stepped forward leading the way. They knocked on the door and were bid enter to find the housekeeper enjoying a cup of tea and a plate of small cakes. “Oh dear what have they been doing Horace?” She asked as he followed them in. “His lordship thinks they might be able to distract his younger son from visiting London for a year.” “Well yes but why these two?” The housekeeper turned to them “What did you do to bring yourselves to his lordship’s attention.” “He caught us kissing Mrs. Miller.” “Which of my footmen was it? I’ll have their guts for garters.” Betty whispered something. “Come on girl speak up. They’ll be let go before the day’s out.” “MaryAnne.” Betty spoke a little louder this time. “I don’t believe it. You’re protecting someone.” Mrs. Miller glanced at the two girls “I think she meant it. Show him.” Hesitantly Betty turned to MaryAnne and kissed her on the lips. The kiss deepened. Mr. Perkins collapsed in a chair. “It’s unnatural.” “Never the less it’s the reason Lord Courtenay chose these two.” “But why?” “Well they’d never get carried away and lose control kissing a boy for a start.” “I don’t want to end up.” Betty made a motion with her hands over her tummy. “I don’t see why you should. Horace is it just the threat of the sack if they don’t?” “No we have a monkey to spend.” The girls looked baffled but Mrs. Miller looked thoughtful. “I’d heard the Keech estate were retrenching because of the gambling debts of the younger son. We’ve hired one or two their experienced maids ourselves. Right girls if you can pull this off it means new dresses for you both with even a few silk undergarments with a bit of lace on them. Betty, that brother of yours will get an apprenticeship with the smithy.” “But we ain’t got no money for that.” “The estate will pay and give him a few coppers a week as well. A new roof for your dad’s cottage and for yours I think the tenancy of one of the smaller farms.” “Real silk underthings?” “Miss Buswell can advise us I think.” The girls looked shocked. Miss Buswell was Lady Courtenay‘s superior dresser.

“What makes you think we could distract him from London better than one of the other maids?” “When you kiss and rub your hands over each other’s bodies do you ever feel as if you’re out of control?” Mrs. Miller turned to MaryAnne “Has Betty ever brought you to a very special feeling?” MaryAnne blushed and stammered “Yes.” “Well some maids get out of control when a man’s hands roam over them in the same way.” “Really?” There was a tone of disbelief in Betty’s voice. “Really and once you lose control that’s when it’s easy to end up in the family way.” “You mean some girls find men as attractive as I find Betty?” “More to the point some men find both of you attractive.” “So what do we have to do?” “I mean to say I know how Betty’s body works but men are different.”

Mrs. Miller smiled “Well we need to keep this discreet so Horace will have to do.” Horace looked up in alarm. “Now Betty take this rag and polish the table please. MaryAnne I want you to stand behind Horace and give him a neck rub just as you would Betty. Keep an eye on his private parts.” Betty took the duster and lent forward over the table. Her bottom wiggled slightly as she polished. Horace’s eyes were glued to her bottom. “He’s swelling at the sight of her wiggling her bottom.” “Now give him a kiss on the lips then undo his trousers.” “Discipline. This isn’t good for discipline.” “Now Horace don’t tell me you’re not enjoying the attention.” “Well yes.” Betty kissed him and teased her tongue between his lips as she would do with MaryAnne. Horace stiffened. MaryAnne’s slim fingers undid Horace’s fly buttons and wrapped themselves on his hardness that was exposed. “If you just run your thumb over his tip, it should feel lubricated.” MaryAnne eased away from Horace’s mouth to reply “It is.” “Deborah, she slipped her tongue in my mouth?” “Horace you’re showing your inexperience. Did you like the sensation?” “Well I suppose I did.” “Well then what are you complaining about?” “How do you stop them from going further than you’d like?” “Easy just caress his hardness. Use one hand on his rod and the other to scoop underneath his balls. Betty you’d better get ready with your rag for when he spurts.” Shortly afterwards Horace spurted.

“Now then we want to divert him from going to London so take your time before allowing him any privileges. Horace you’d better take them up and ensure Lord Roberts will accept them. Unlike his brother he’s a bit of a soft touch sometimes so play on his sympathy.”

“Lord Roberts with your permission I’d like to rotate Bates to another role so he understands more of the overall picture. Since I suspect you’ll be off to London soon would you mind putting up with these two maids. They’re in disgrace at the moment and if they aren’t acceptable I have nowhere else to place them so they’ll be sent on their way. It’s your father’s idea if you want to discuss it with him.” “What no need to bother pater. As you say I’ve been thinking about paying London a visit. Blinky wrote to say it’s very educational and you don’t have to write essays about what you did last night, so I’m sure they’ll do until I leave.” Perkins gave a sigh of relief and retired.

“So what are you two in disgrace over?” “We got caught kissing.” Lord Robert’s grinned. “Right let’s have your bare bum in my lap so I can give it a spank then you’ve had your punishment for the crime.” Betty shed her underclothes and hitched up her skirt before lying down across his lap. Lord Robert looked across at MaryAnne “Shall I spank her until she moans?” “That’s not the way to do it.” An eyebrow was raised. “Lift her onto the bed.” Betty blushed “No.” She was hoisted onto the bed and MaryAnne dived between her legs as Betty struggled and tried to push MaryAnne away. “Hold her hands.” Lord Robert intrigued did as he was told then watched as Betty’s struggles grew fainter and fainter. Gradually her moans grew louder, he felt her fingers stiffen in his then they relaxed. “Oh Betty you shouldn’t not in front of....” “Nonsense very educational. Do I take it all women can get aroused like that?” “Perhaps not all but most are capable of such arousal.” “You’ll have to teach me what to do.” The girls looked at each other in consternation. “Now since you’ve given me a treat what would you like for yours?” “Anything?” Lord Robert had a sudden panic as he imagined them wanting expensive jewellery. “Could we go for a ride in your dogcart behind your matched pair and take a picnic with us?” Well that was inexpensive at least. “You’d best tell cook I’ll be wanting a hamper and my groom I’ll be wanting the dogcart in thirty minutes.”

The girls perched on the forward facing seat squeezed in next to Lord Roberts. Knoll, his groom took the rear facing bench and had his back to them rather than use the perch. Lord Roberts whipped up his pair to show them off and the two maids hung on for dear life. Knoll merely braced himself against the rear foot rest and hoped his lordship would stop showing off his team soon. They slowed down and followed a track to a shady hill side that looked ideal for a picnic. Knoll jumped down and ran to the horse’s heads. He heard gossip of course and if the maids could keep his precious horses in the country rather than be cooped up in London he was all for it. The sounds of a violin being played wafted on the breeze. Now there was a thought, maids liked to dance he’d heard and old Carlton often played a jig when he wasn’t shepherding.

They ate first then walked round to see old Carlton who was more than willing to play a jig or two for a coin or two whilst Lord and groom danced with the two maids and the pair of horses grazed quietly in the shade. On the way home Betty announced that one day she’d like to be able to drive a pair of horses like Lord Robert’s. “We’d best start you off with a gig and perhaps a couple of farm horses before moving on to the dogcart.” MaryAnne had to be taught how to drive as well and he found it interesting to teach them.

That autumn Lord Robert was taught how to lap a maid’s crotch to bring her to a state of ecstasy. Betty would caress MaryAnne’s body at the same time to help the process along. Liz, a parlour maid, was persuaded to allow him to nibble her toes. Much to his amazement she showed much the same symptoms as Betty did when he lapped at the top of her thighs. MaryAnne explained that each girl had their own unique sensitive spots and what worked on one might not be arousing for another. The maid’s uniforms were certainly smarter than anything they’d had before. Miss Buswell threw herself wholeheartedly into the project. Her cousin had been let go with the retrenching at Keech estate and was more than willing to design and sew a few dresses until she could find a new post. Betty and MaryAnne were delighted with their new silk underthings and Lord Robert’s interest in them. Both were bright and quick to learn what would make life more interesting for him. 

Fifteen year old Bert walked his snare lines slipping the rabbits into his poacher pockets. He’d done well overnight. He left a pair of rabbits with old Mrs. Dootson, others were left by a few back doorsteps and the remaining four handed over to his mother who promptly skinned them and threw them into a stew pot out of sight. “You be careful young Bert. We don’t want you transported for a few rabbits.” “Yes Marm.” He’d be careful alright. “You’re wanted up at the big house by the way. The steward wants to see you.” Whoops perhaps he shouldn’t have taken two pairs of peasants with his slingshot last week.

He presented himself at the kitchen door. At the kitchen table the twelve year old Henrietta was making a cake. “Good morning Bert come to show me the new hatchlings?” “Steward’s sent for me but after that when you’ve finished I can guide you and your governess to a few interesting places.”

“Now then Bert tomorrow his lordship has some guests arriving. Monied they are and he needs their investments so he hit on the idea of a shooting party. Cits they are so they’ll have trouble hitting the target. You’ll come up first light and see his lordship’s valet who’ll dress you up in a suitable clothing and you’ll just keep your mouth shut. We’ll introduce you as a son of the local gentry.” Bert looked at him. “Just fire after they have and down their missed birds. If they miss everything they’ll be unhappy. I’ll be your loader by the way just to make sure everyone knows it’s with my blessing.” The steward watched Bert walk off. He must think I was born yesterday if I didn’t know who the best poacher on the estate was. He thought to himself.

When Bert presented himself, his lordship’s valet had him bathe first then trimmed his hair. Eventually Bert was dressed in the correct clothing for a young gentleman on his first shoot. He glanced at the mirror on the wall. He could get used to this quality of clothing. He was then handed across to the steward. “Now then you’ll be shooting with a pair of Manton’s so don’t drop them in the ground and treat them with respect.” Bert held the first shotgun reverently in his hands. “We’ll take a walk behind the stables so you can fire a few rounds and see how they handle. They haven’t been made bespoke for you but you’re about the same size.”

Bert swore they aimed themselves as they hit the target every time. Then they were out with the shooting party. “Now remember lads the idea is the rest of them enjoy themselves.” The first few partridges flew into the air as the beaters did their work. Guns barked across the line but few birds fell. Bert swung his gun up and followed one a little to his right. His neighbour fired and the bird flew on but Bert’s shot caught him nicely. “Well shot sir!” The neighbouring loader congratulated his gun. An hour later each of the guns had been officially credited with at least one bird. The only person who hadn’t was Bert. Viscount Courtenay walked down the line of his guests congratulating them individually as he passed. He paused when he reached Bert. “You remember Bertram, my Lord, one of the local gentry’s sons.” Spoke up the steward to clue in Viscount Courtenay. “Yes, yes carry on. Could have sworn he reminded me of someone?”

“Now young Bertram, take your time and squeeze the trigger gently.” The gun next to him gave his inexpert advice. Everyone else stood with their guns broken open to watch Bert. His gun barked and the bird dropped from the sky. The neighbouring gun couldn’t have been more pleased than if he’d shot the bird himself. “See it’s not so hard once you get the hang of it.” Bert and the steward tried to keep straight faces at the comments. “Remember it’s all about their enjoyment. If it pleases them to give you hints when shooting that gives them enjoyment.” The steward murmured as they exchanged guns.

The group seemed to take the quiet Bertram under their wing. It seemed to the steward that they could feel superior to his youth. His Lordship’s valet was consulted and Bert found himself in evening dress seated with his betters over dinner, next to the twelve-year-old Henrietta who enjoyed dressing up and the different courses. Much different to the usual food served in the school room. Henrietta was in a chatty mood and asked how the shooting had gone that day. She barely gave Bert chance to open his mouth and gave him subtle hints as to which knife and fork to use. “Could you rip my roll apart for me?” She simpered as she saw he was about to pick a knife up to cut his in half. Henrietta whispered to him she had a titled beau these days, Sir Parker but he wasn’t to tell anyone about it.

After the final sweet course the butler quietly suggested to him it was time to leave if he wanted to get back before dark. The other dinners protested at him leaving so early especially as he hadn’t heard all their stories yet but Bert thought it was time to slip away. Upstairs his lordship’s valet helped him into his ordinary clothing. “Pity, them boots is good uns.” The valet looked down his nose at the boots. There was a slight scuff on the leather. “Well you might as well keep them as they’re scuffed.” So Bert went home well pleased with his new pair of boots.

The steward arranged that for three days a week Bert would be found work in the stables as a groom. The head groom found him intelligent and he seemed to have a touch with horses so he was taught how to look after the horses in his care. The hunters in the hunting season required oats in order to gallop. The coach horses, needing stamina, were fed legumes such as peas, or beans possibly maize rather than oats. The farm horses would be fed barley as it released its energy more slowly. Swedes and carrots would be added in season to give some variety. Since the horses needed to be fed and watered three or four times a day Bert’s contribution meant the other grooms could have a half day off occasionally.

Bert was also given the task of accompanying Henrietta when she went riding and together they explored the countryside. One morning she didn’t turn up for her ride and on enquiry to her maid it was found she was rather upset at something so wouldn’t be riding. A week later the story reached the village. Something had happened with Sir Parker. She was in disgrace. Both her father and elder brother held her to blame for leading him on. Bert was inclined not to believe she had. At twelve he felt Sir Parker should not have interfered with her and the gossip was he liked very young girls. Eventually she took up riding again and mentioned she’d told her mother that Sir Parker had overpowered her with his greater strength. Her mother had told her father and now it was she who was in disgrace. A season was out of the question as no one would want to marry her she sobbed.

Henrietta wasn’t looking forward to meeting Sir Packer again. The thought of how he’d used her made her feel sick.

It took two weeks for Bert to watch Sir Parker take his morning ride at a gallop through the woods, the same path each day. A rope tied to one tree and looped round another was enough to bring him tumbling from his horse. Two quick blows from Bert’s stave and he was unconscious. Bert rolled him into the ditch by the side of the path then held his head under the water with the stave. Twenty minutes later Bert was far away when Sir Parker’s horse found its way back to the stable.

Still, ridding the world of vermin would only prevent some other girl being raped. It didn’t do anything to help Henrietta other than she wouldn’t need to face him again.

The local magistrate discussed Sir Parker’s death with his wife over supper. “It doesn’t feel right. There’s some rope burns on his neck that shouldn’t be there.” “If you found out that our daughter had been raped what would you do to the rapist?” “I’d kill him!” “Sir Parker had the reputation of liking young girls. Viscount Courtenay’s was one of his recent victims so the gossips say. If you have sworn witness statements from a dozen witnesses that someone had murdered him and the jury had daughters do you think they would convict the murderer?” “You mean I’d have to question Viscount Courtenay and many others. I’d hit a wall of silence as well, no doubt. I’d best write it up as a fatal accident then.”

Henrietta just felt relief she wouldn’t need to come face to face with Sir Parker ever again.

Matt stood in front of his boss’s desk with his head hung low. “I sent you up to Manchester to look for investment opportunities not to put five hundred pounds into a new underfunded mill. Yes I know his daughter is pretty and wrapped you round her little finger still I’d probably have done the same when I was young. Now how are we going to get out of this mess?” “Mess?” “You’ve never have been approached if they weren’t behind and running out of cash. We’ll go back up together and see how much more money is needed to complete the building and equip it with machinery. Fortunately Henrietta looks as if she won’t be needing her dowery any time soon so we have a bit of money to hand and we can take a longer term view. God help us if we’re caught.” “Can’t we just write the five hundred pounds off?” “Don’t be daft lad we’d never be able to explain a missing five hundred pounds. No we have to do whatever we need to do to make this factory thing a success else it’s the high jump for both of us.”

They travelled north together and looked over the site. They spoke to the foreman in charge and asked him how bad it was. “It’s taking longer than expected and the craftsmen are looking for other work so they don’t feel confident.” Then they sat down with Mr. Aspden and offered to buy him out for a thousand pounds. “I’ve put far more than that into it.” “True enough but you’ll be bankrupt by the end of the month else. You don’t have the funds to complete the job.” Mr. Aspden bent his head in acceptance.

“Right Matt you got us into this mess so you get us out. You’ll stay up here and complete the job.” He turned to the site’s foreman “We need expertise to complete the job. We have funds but Matt doesn’t know his way around what do you suggest?” “Is he married?” Matt blinked “No.” “You’ll marry my daughter then and she’ll put you right.”

“So let’s get this right you want me to marry some soft southerner who’s wet behind the years and nursemaid him just so you can complete the factory.” “That’s right girl if Mr. Aspden’s daughter can con him out of five hundred pounds to invest in the factory he’ll be putty in your hands. If the job doesn’t get done there’ll be fewer jobs all round.” “He’d best come for his tea then and I’ll look him over.”

Both Matt and Mr. Wooding arrived for tea the following day. Hariet inspected him. “Well he’s easy on the eye at least. Open wide.” Matt looked astounded, “Let’s look at your teeth.” “Go on lad do as she says we need to be on her best side.” Matt opened his mouth for inspection and Hariet had a good peer in. “Good enough. Now then tell all. All I’ve heard so far is you’ve invested five hundred in Aspden’s new mill and I’m curious why you just don’t cut your loses.” She looked at them both “It wasn’t your money was it? So now I’m to make it a success to cover up the five hundred?” “Told you she was shrewd.” “How long have I got and how much more can I spend?” She stepped up to Matt and kissed him on the lips. “Well he hasn’t got bad breath I’ll say that for him. Now then what’s in it for me?” Matt wasn’t too sure he was used to being treated so bluntly and made a face.

Mr. Wooding opened up “I’d say we’ve ten years at least before we get asked for the money so we can take a longer term view. There is twenty thousand in total but we’ve already spent fifteen hundred and I’d prefer to spend as little as possible of the rest.” “You’ll both swing for five hundred if they find out.” “Can you pull it off?” “Oh yes I can do that. I’ve made some notes about what you’ll need to spend and its at least ten thousand to get the mill sorted out properly.” “But I thought it was nearly complete. Mr. Aspden said he’d spent twenty thousand on it so far.” Blurted out Matt. “True enough, the mill is but you’ll need mebbe a hundred to pay off the current workers like me dad and finish the job. Most suppliers’ invoices are paid up to date as we took 2% off for paying within a week and Mr. Aspden had not thought about building homes for mill workers nor about the best machinery. You can go cheap but if you want profit you’ll need quality stuff and that’s where me dad and I come in, we know who to talk to. You’ll need money to buy in raw materials and to ship the finished goods out. You’ll want to build a warehouse next to the canal to ship goods cheaply. To attract the best workers the houses need to be good quality and if you can build them a school as well that’ll help. Talking houses I’ll be wanting summat a bit grander than me dad’s since it’ll have to house both us and me mum and dad. Indoor pump for a start and one of them new posh things for the kitchen.”

Mr. Wooding looked at her with respect. “Well the mill could build you such a house. To keep costs down I’ll draw up a paper to give Matt one share of the mill after ten years. As manager we’ll pay him two hundred a year.” “How many shares are there?” “Twenty so one will give you 5% which should give you enough incentive.” Hariet thought about it then walked over to Matt and took his hand in hers. “He’s nicely spoken and has soft hands any road. Well lad if we’re to be wed are you going to ask me dad for me hand?” Her dad grinned “Sounds like it’s her hand or you’ll swing lad. She’s not such a bad bargain and you can be married as soon as the banns have been called.” Matt gulped and thought about his options. There weren’t many. “Aye well we’d best be wed if you’ll have me.” Hariet stepped up and kissed him “There lad that wasn’t so hard was it. You’ll do.”

Viscount Courtenay sent for Bert. Bert wondered why he’d even been noticed. “My youngest son feels strongly he should join the war efforts so I’m buying him a commission.” Bert felt apprehensive. “You’ll travel with him. I’m arranging a batman for him so ostensibly you’ll be a groom for his string. Reality my steward when I questioned him about your presence at the shooting party tells me you’re a good man with a gun so in my son’s trunk there will be two pairs of rifles and a pair of duelling pistols plus ammunition and powder for your use. Keep him safe. We might need him for the succession.” Bert blinked. “Two pairs of rifles?” “If it’s war having a second or third loaded rifle can make a difference sometimes. It’s a chance to travel and we’ll look after your family whilst you’re gone.” Bert said nothing. “The pay is a gold sovereign a week and fifty extra if he gets back alive.” Well Bert wasn’t stupid and that was good wages indeed. “When does he leave?” “Tomorrow at daylight.” “I’ll be waiting at the stables.”

Although they had good winds and averaged more than four knots per hour, it still took them more than ten days to reach Lisbon. Not a record one of the sailors mentioned to him but a good few days faster than it could be. The horses were getting restless in their stalls and were delighted when they were hoisted off the ship. Bert gave them gentle exercise to shake the fidgets out of them and found them some grass to graze on.

They stayed in Lisbon for a few days until a suitable party of travellers to the front was assembled. Bert and the batman worked together to find lots of energetic things to distract the Lieutenant during the day as they both wanted him fit and healthy when he arrived at the front rather than have lost all his money at cards or with the young ladies of the night who seemed attracted to the young officers in Lisbon. Bert and the batman rode the spare horses. When they camped for the night Bert would wander off to set his snares and first thing in the morning he’d gather them up. As he rode into camp he dropped off his rabbits with the camp followers.

The young Lieutenant was given an experienced sarjent to assist him as he learned his job. The sarjent thought about how few troops he had available and how the new Lieutenant’s groom would make a good replacement. “But I don’t know how to approach the Lieutenant about it.” “Enjoying your stew dear?” Asked his wife. “It’s very good. Someone came across some rabbits?” “The new groom. So it might be an idea to let him wander off by himself sometimes. He’s got the look of a good poacher to me.” “But that’s criminal!” “Well I don’t know. You were telling me that they have different laws over here.” “You mean turn a blind eye?” “Well sometimes if helps if you don’t ask too many questions.” “I’ll keep my eye on him never the less.” “Whatever you think best.”

Bert lifted out a pair of the rifles and carried them out to the quarry. There he set up a target 200 yards away and put in some target practise using a telescope to see how he had shot. The sarjent watched quietly and approached when Bert came back carrying the target. “You’re not just a simple groom are you?” “Viscount Courtenay is fond of his son and sent me to keep an eye on him together with two pairs of rifles and suitable ammunition.” “So if I need a sniper?” “As long as I’m not separated from the Lieutenant, I can fire a few shots.”

Five years later “Sarjent, I spotted a French patrol about a mile away.” “I’ll gather up a squad of men and we’ll deal with them.” “Get them to leave their jackets off.” The sarjent grumbled but the squad set off without their bright red coats. Two of them carrying Bert’s spare preloaded rifles. At 300 yards Bert climbed into a tree and shot the officer leading the patrol. He exchanged guns with his loader and picked off the NCOs. The rest of the patrol raised their hands in surrender. The sarjent took over and the wounded officer was brought back for interrogation.

“So what sort of rifle can shoot 300 yards then?” “Dunno, Viscount Courtenay uses them for deer shooting I think. He lent them to me to protect his darling son. Oh and sarjent keep my role quiet in this skirmish if you please.”

Captain Forber counted up his winnings in his tent. “We’re doing well Melling a few more new officers and friendly games and we’ll be set for life.” His batman Melling nodded. As long as he got his percentage he was happy. More than happy he’d found the marked cards in Lisbon for the captain. They worked well together.

The Lieutenant-Colonel had Lieutenant Roberts brought to his tent together with Bert. “Now Lieutenant I’d like you to go and scout out the countryside ahead in disguise. It’s essential we know where the French are and in what strength.” “You want me to become a spy out of uniform?” Bert could see the idea shocked his Rupert. “All right, I’ll go.” “Thank you Bert. The sarjent mentioned you’d accompany your commanding officer.” “He stays in camp?” “As you wish.” “Bert you’re never going to spy on the enemy?” “I take my orders from yourself not the Colonel but my feeling is if it’s done it will save a few lives and one man stands less chance of being noticed than two. So with your permission?” “I order you to command him to go Lieutenant.” “Looks like you have my permission.”

“I’ll come with you to see how it’s done.” The sarjent murmured as they left the tent. “Better find you some peasant clothes then.” Early next morning the two men left the camp and moved forward. The sarjent shook his head as Bert seemed to melt into the countryside but gently followed his footsteps.

Two days later they approached the French camp. Bert motioned for the sarjent to stay quiet whilst he went forward and dealt with the sentry. Then he motioned the sarjent forward passing him his telescope. “Best start counting. The sentry has been dealt with but his relief might be by soon.” The sarjent made lots of notes then finally signalled he was done and the two of them melted away.

“Well how did it go?” “My report’s here sir.” “That’s not what I asked.” “Young Bert seemed to be able to find cover where I couldn’t see any. He dealt with the sentry and I’d rather not ask how. He might be undisciplined but he knows his craft.” “And his craft is protecting his Lordship’s son. How is he doing by the way?” “He’s shaping up. He has a few brains and he uses them unlike some and he’s considerate of his men although I suspect Bert put a whisper in his ear once or twice.” “Think we could use Bert again as a scout?” “Maybe but between you and me the camp followers will be up in arms if anything happens to him.” The Lieutenant-Colonel gave him a puzzled expression. “He’s generous with rabbits as my wife has reminded me once or twice.” “Tricky that, still this intelligence will help. Dismiss Sarjent.” There was a battle coming up the Lieutenant-Colonel could tell. If Bert was half as good with those fancy rifles as the sarjent thought he was he’d be worth his weight in gold. Now where would the best place for a sniper be? Somewhere high but concealed. The Lieutenant-Colonel put his mind to it.

“The Lieutenant-Colonel wants a what?” “He wants a tree house building in that tree.” “He’s going barmy.” “Barmy or not he wants a tree house or rather a platform a man can lie on so get a move on, I want you up that tree sharpish and don’t knock any leaves off.” The squaddies hauled up branches and tied them in place to form a platform. “I dunno expecting to be attacked by the French and he wants a tree house. Think we’re going to drop rocks on them from above does he?”

The dispatches came in late. Melling intercepted the mail for the officers, well you never knew what might be useful and ran a hot knife under the seals. Well, well, someone’s older brother had died in a curricle race to Brighton so he was now the heir and worth a bob or two no doubt. He mentioned it to Captain Forber. “Excellent, excellent work. A tontine is called for.” Bert was passing the tent when he heard the word on his way to the Lieutenant-Colonel’s tent.

“Now the lads have built you a nice tree house so you can overlook the battlefield. I’ve positioned your Lieutenant below so you can keep an eye open for him.” “And let me guess if I should just get the urge to shoot a few French officers you won’t raise any strong objections.” The Lieutenant-Colonel smiled at him and unrolled the map on the table. “This information is secret and should officially only be shown to my officers. However I feel that if you understand the strategic importance of the position that might be useful to you.” He paused “Now this is where I think they are.” “Oh they’re there all right. I was out snaring a few rabbits this morning that way.” Bert pointed to an area on the map. “Down there is the main camp and if they have any sense they’ll come up this ditch here.” The Lieutenant-Colonel updated his map. “You’ve four rifles I understand so you’ll be able to get off at least four shots before they are within musket firing range. I want their officers. Without them they’ll lose morale and won’t know where to attack.” Bert nodded. He’d looked at the platform in the tree as he’d guessed something like this was going to happen. “I’d best get a good night’s sleep in. By the way what is a tontine?” “A group of men get together and agree to leave their worldly wealth to whoever is alive when the others die.” Bert nodded silently. He’d best keep an eye open on the morrow.

He walked down to the camp followers and found two sensible ones and explained what he’d like them to do. He showed them how to prime the pan and load the rifles using paper cartridges. “I’ll be expecting a rabbit a day for a week after this young Bert.” Bert nodded his agreement.

“Ah Lieutenant your job tomorrow is to defend this tree at all costs.” The Lieutenant-Colonel was losing his mind. Defend a tree. Well orders was orders. “Whatever happens this tree must not fall into enemy hands.” The men looked at him. They were to sacrifice themselves for a tree?

That evening Captain Forber invited a few carefully chosen unmarried officers to his tent for a game of cards. He played poorly and when the assembled crowd were in a good mood and had been drinking he put forth his idea of a tontine which was taken up enthusiastically by Second-Lieutenant Quincy who had little money of his own and the temptation was great. The paper was signed and copies made for each officer round the table.

At the first signs of light the camp was buzzing. Bert’s two assistants climbed up the tree besides him then they lay down and waited. Below them three lines of red coats lined up across the front of the tree and after a fortifying ration of rum were prepared to defend it with their lives. Above whilst he appreciated their protection Bert did think it drew unwanted attention to his tree.

The first wave of French came just after daybreak. Bert concentrated on the officers and the men leading the attack. The women quietly took his rifle away and placed another in his hands so he wouldn’t have to move his position then reloaded his rifles. Below the muskets were fired in the first volley at 70 yards with more volleys following. They fought off the first wave. In the lull afterwards Maisy mentioned she thought she’d seen one of the soldiers aim his gun at an officer. “That Mellings it were. I don’t trust him an inch him and his captain for all their fine words.”

The second wave came but they didn’t seem to want to press quite as hard this time and the attack wavered as Bert shot the remaining officers. Bert glanced down at his Lieutenant and noticed Mellings behind him with a musket which seemed to be aimed the wrong way. Bert simply moved his aim and shot Mellings just in case. He’d apologise later if need be. His aim shifted again and Captain Forber became an unfortunate casualty of war. There was no need to take unnecessary risks with his fifty sovereign bonus.

The third wave was half hearted by now the troops were sobering up from their brandy which had been used to brace their spirits. Bert was firing now at 1,000 yards range. The rifles were not completely accurate but fired into a wall of French soldiers they were accurate enough. “By gum lads just the sight of your Red Uniforms has sent them running. You never had to fire a shot.” “It weren’t us sarj it was the sight of the women up the tree armed with saucepans of boiling water to pour over them when they arrived.” “Armed with rolling pins an’ all.” Came another voice. “If you want to get fed this evening Tom Claypole you’d best be careful what you say.” Drifted down an indignant voice from on high. “Oh heck it’s the wife.”

The Lieutenant-Colonel looked down the casualty list. “Is this all?” “That’s about it apart from a bruised finger when some dropped his musket.” “Four officers?” “And all part of a tontine. The fifth one reminds alive. Strangely enough one of their batmen was killed as well.” “Suspicious we’ll best look into this.” The dead officers’ belongings were inspected. Captain Forber’s kit and that of his batman turned up more than three thousand guineas in coins, packs of marked cards as well. Most damaging of all in amongst Captain Forber’s belongings was a letter with a broken seal containing the news that Lieutenant Roberts was now heir to Viscount Courtenay since his brother had died of fever following a curricle crash. Three of the officers had been shot with a musket from behind. Maisy came forward and admitted seeing Mellings shoot one of them. Both Captain Forber and Mellings had been shot with a rifled bullet. The Lieutenant-Colonel decided he’d investigated enough. Scandals were bad for morale. Captain Forber and the others died a valiant death in action he declared.

Lieutenant Roberts was sent for and handed the letter telling him of his brother’s death. “I take it you’ll be returning to England?” “Yes Sir.” “And taking that reprobate Bert with you?” Lieutenant Roberts was puzzled but agreed Bert would be travelling back with him. Later he spoke to his batman about what had happened. “Well gossip has it that Captain Forber’s batman intercepted that letter to you, after that the tontine was suggested. I take it the heir is normally given his own estate?” “Good God. It doesn’t sound like the actions of an officer and a gentleman.” “Mellings was certainly involved in one officer’s death and probably two others and he was found shot a little behind you with a musket in his hands where he had no business being.” “There’s more isn’t there?” “Circumstantial but both he and Captain Forber were shot with rifled bullets.” “No wonder the Lieutenant-Colonel was keen for me to remove Bert from here.” “It would be a scandal if it got out.” “Will you return with me?” “There are four gentlemen rankers who’ll be newly promoted. I’ll stop on as batman to one. I’ve already been approached. They’ll all need a string of horses as well and Bert was saying he wasn’t looking forward to travelling back by ship with them as they might kick a hole in the side of the boat if they’re cooped up too long. Now I’ve a suggestion to make to you.” “Go on.” “Sell the all the horses and so forth. Captain Forber had plenty of coin lying around which becomes yours.” “And?” “Offer coin to the paymaster. He’ll give you a receipt which the war office will redeem in London.” “Rather than carry it back with me?” “Well it would be tempting fate. Those gentlemen rankers would probably be willing to buy their strings and uniforms on cheques drawn on London banks.”

The Lieutenant-Colonel looked over his new toys, a dozen Baker rifles. He sent for Bert for his opinion. “What do you think?” “I’d have to try one out but by the looks of things they should be more robust than the hunting rifles I have. They should be easier to get cartridges for as well. I’m running short for mine.” “Think you can teach a few men how to shoot these?” “Until Lieutenant Roberts is ready to leave I can.” “Sarjent Dilley has a dozen men at the quarry waiting instruction.” Bert raised his eyebrows at the thought and took himself off.

At the quarry he found himself explaining that although the rifle was slower to load it was more accurate over distance and it was the accuracy that mattered. He watched the sarjent fire from a standing position. Then asked the next man to lie down and fire using a rest. The shots were much more accurate. “Prone is the best but kneeling isn’t too bad. Standing is the last choice. I use a sling when I can to steady the gun.” He laid back with his feet facing the target the sling wrapped around his foot and took careful aim. The shot hit the target dead centre. “You need to allow for the wind but once you’re on target rifles are consistent. Being comfortable and relaxed is more important than you might think. The other thing is you need to think. With a musket firing in a volley you fire on your NCO’s commands. With a rifle you pick out your own targets and fire when everything lines up.” This was a new way of thinking.

Four days later he found himself heading for Lisbon. “So what happened back there?” “I overheard Captain Forber use the word tontine and thought I’d better keep an eye open.” “Thank you.” “Pure selfishness you’re worth fifty gold sovereigns to me from your dad if I return you home alive.” “You mean he sent you with me to play nursemaid?” “I left that up to your sarjent. I just kept in with the camp followers by supplying them with rabbits and got involved using the rifles once or twice. No Maisy mentioned that she thought Melling was shooting officers so I shot him as he raised a musket in your direction.” “I’d best not ask about Captain Forber’s death had I?” “Oh did he pass away as well?” Lieutenant Roberts pretended not to hear.

They had to wait in Lisbon for a suitable ship and then it took more than three weeks to sail back to Portsmouth. A trip that included a patch of bad weather and Bert was thankful he didn’t have a string of horses to keep calm in the hold.

In London they visited a solicitor to transfer the deeds of the three estates Lieutenant Roberts had won in the tontine. “I’ll deed you the one with the lowest income. Two estates I can explain on games of cards, three and even pater would be suspicious but to sweeten the pot I’ll throw in three and a half thousand pounds so you can improve it.” Bert thanked him and thought privately it was so he wouldn’t have to explain the three and a half thousand pounds to anyone. Now all he had to do was get his lordship home and collect his pay.

He left with a draft for three hundred from a grateful Viscount for returning his rifles and son. Bert wasn’t sure which he was most grateful to receive back, the rifles had been very carefully inspected. He stopped by to see his sister and left her some money with her for a rainy day. Early the next morning after sleeping on the floor in front of the fire he set off on his travels.

His new home was some fifteen miles away. Close enough to walk in a day but not travel there and back in a day. He reached the house and was greeted by a footman at the front door. “I’d like to see who is in charge please.” “The service entrance is at the rear.” The front door was closed in his face. Bert shrugged and walked round to the back door and tapped on the door. “Hello handsome, who are you then?” The scullery maid asked him. “I’m the owner so find me the housekeeper or butler will you?” “Coo go on.” She took a second look and ran off to fetch the cook. Eventually after showing his credentials he was led into a small back room where Mr. Sharples, his tenant, was reading through the newspaper. “He says he is the new owner sir and has come to inspect.” “Really? Glad to meet you. I didn’t know what to do about the rent after the steward died but I knew someone would turn up to collect it one day. I’ll write you a cheque for the outstanding amount.” “When did the steward die?” “Some two years ago I think.” That probably explains why the income had been nonexistent for the last couple of years. “Are you happy to remain as tenants?” “Yes I think so. It suits the wife fine and that’s all I care about. I’ve the keys to the steward’s cottage if you’d like to take them.” Bert took the keys and strolled off after being given directions to the steward’s old cottage.

The cottage was a bit musty but when he climbed the staircase he found five good sized bedrooms. Downstairs the kitchen looked good enough to cook in. He’d seen a lot worse. The furniture in the rooms was solid if old fashioned. Outside there was a small barn and it looked like a good sized small holding well if someone tackled the weeds. It would do, home sweet home. He walked down to the vicarage and asked to speak to the vicar.

He was led into a small room that obviously served to interview parishioners. “I’m the curate, the bishop sent me here until a new vicar is appointed. You look new here what can I do for you?” Bert looked him over. He seemed honest enough. “I’m the new owner of the estate and I need some information.” “New owner you say?” Bert passed him the letters from the lawyer that transferred ownership to him. These were inspected. “Well I must confess at first glance you don’t have the look of gentry.” “I never learned my letters. Never saw the need until now. Everything was done by word of mouth but now I need to be able to read at least and I daresay do some sums. For the moment I need someone I can trust to read me these bits of paper I’m told is worth money.” He handed the cheques over. The curate read out the sums on each. “Good then they are what they should be. Now how do I turn them into proper coins?”

The curate murmured about the church roof. “Let’s get the estate settled down first then we’ll see.” “I’ll take you down to our bank.” “Are they to be trusted?” “I certainly hope so I keep the parish funds with them.” At the bank the curate asked to see the manager and together they went into the manager’s office. The bank manager’s eyebrows were raised when he looked through the cheques that Bert wanted to deposit. “They’ll take a week or so to clear.” He commented. Bert looked puzzled. “These are instructions for other banks to pay a sum of money. To protect ourselves I need to see the funds are available and have been transferred. We call that clearing.” When asked to sign to open the account Bert made his mark and it was witnessed by the curate and the bank manager. “I’d best teach you how to sign your name.” Remarked the curate. “It might be useful.” Remarked the bank manager who wondered how anyone who couldn’t read or write could be worth so much.

As they left the bank, the curate asked where he was living. “The steward’s old cottage.” “You’ll be wanting a couple of maids then?” Bert looked at him “I’ve always managed for myself so far.” “Yes but Mrs. Pratt died last week and her two maids will be looking for work once the house has been tided up.” “Send them along then.” Replied Bert.

Lucy and Ann came up together and knocked on the kitchen door. “The curate said as how we should come and see you about a job.” He looked them over. Ann blushed as he did so. “Don’t mind her she’s blonde so blushes easily. Should we speak to your wife?” “I don’t have one so I’ll have to tell you what to do.” “She knows already.” Blurted out Ann. “You’ll be giving him the wrong idea about us. We’re good girls we are.” “I’ll bet you are.” “Enough banter how much are you offering?” “Ten bob a week each, provided you give satisfaction.” Lucy tossed her head “Right enough but we don’t end up in the family way ten bob a week isn’t enough for that.” “Fair enough.” “Now what do you want us to do?” “The curate thought you needed a job so what do maids normally do?” “Tidy up, dust, cook and wash for a start. Do we get a room?” “Help yourself there are a few spare ones.” “Could we have a room each?” “I don’t see why not.” Lucy and Ann grinned at each other. This was a soft touch all right.

On Sunday Bert attended the morning church service and saw how the curate related to his congregation. He turned to the old lady sat besides him at the end of the service.

“You know if he was married he'd make a good vicar here.” “Well he's sweet on the Squire's governess, Miss Garvey, the tall one sitting in the back pew.” Bert made his way to her side as she made her way outside.

“Miss. Garvey?” She looked down her nose at him. “You're the new owner of the estate. So why would you want anything to do with me?” “Apparently I'm supposed to appoint a new incumbent vicar and wondered if you might be able to suggest one that was married?” “Or about to be married?” “Within the next month or so would do fine.” “The present curate?” “Unfortunately he's unmarried and doesn't have a betrothed at the moment but yes otherwise he'd do fine.”

They both stood to the side waiting for the curate to finish greeting the congregation as they left the church. Miss Garvey slipped her hand down her buttons on the front of her blouse and taking the curate by the hand led him behind the church where she kissed him soundly on the lips and lightly groped him at the same time. “Florentia we shouldn't be doing this.” Florentia slipped her other hand round the back of his neck and pulled him back to kiss him again this time his hand slipped up and cupped her breast.

Both were breathing heavily by the time a curious Bert followed them. Florentia glanced at him then threw her hand up across her forehead. “Alas I'm undone and throughly compromised.” The curate looked at her bewildered.

“I'm sure he'll do the right thing by you rather than see you lose your reputation.” Blurted Bert. “ He'd better after ruining me this way.” “Florentia be sensible. I'd marry you tomorrow if I could afford it.” She tilted her head “Was that a proposal?” “It sounded like one to me.” Grinned Bert. “If you're married within a month, you have the living.”

“You set me up?” “Well I couldn't possibly have proposed myself could I? That would have been far too forward but I could drop a broad hint.” The curate turned towards Bert. “Are you sure? You could always sell the living you know.” “I don’t think Miss Garvey would forgive me if I did. No you’ll do.” “Is there anything we could do for you?” “You could draft a letter to the bishop for me and we’ll take it to the bank manager to witness my mark in the morning. Also I have to learn my letters and to do sums. Could you teach me?” “I’ll come up for an hour on Saturday, my half day, to discuss it although with a wedding to plan I’ll be a bit short of time just at the moment.”

Bert drifted home with a smile on his face. “You’re looking pleased with yourself?” “Oh I’ve just arranged the curate to have the living and Miss Garvey is going to come up for an hour on Saturday to talk to me about learning to read and write.” “She’s what!” Ann shrieked, Bert looked lost. “You’ve no idea what you done have you?” “What has he done?” Lucy stepped forth from the kitchen on hearing the shriek. “He’s only gone and invited Miss Garvey here on Saturday afternoon for an hour to talk about teaching him his letters and to do sums.” “Oh no.” Came Lucy’s despairing answer. “What’s the problem?” “If the house isn’t spotless when she comes the gossips will say you live in squalor. Not only that but our reputations will die with yours for letting you. We’d hoped to have a few weeks to get things in order.” “Surely she wouldn’t say anything?” “She doesn’t have to unless she says the house is spotless the gossips will draw their own conclusions.” “Dorrie?” “I’d better go and get her.” “Dorrie, is Lucy’s cousin who went off to London to train as a maid but was homesick so came home a week or two ago. More importantly she’ll know exactly what needs to be done. You’re hiring her one way or other for we can’t do this without her.”

Dorrie returned with Lucy and looked round at the hall. “She’s coming to talk to you so that means the parlour.” Lucy indicated the room close by the front door. Dorrie inspected it. “We’ll need to go through the house and gather up the best furniture. She’ll need a cloakroom or somewhere to freshen up.” She walked back to the hall and Ann pointed out the downstairs cloakroom which was duly inspected. “Now if she’s getting married, she won’t have time to teach Bert his letters every day. Let’s see how bright you are.” Ann produced two slates from the kitchen. Dorrie drew a letter A then passed Bert the second slate. “You try.” Bert labouriously copied it. “Not bad.” Dorrie perched in his lap and gave him a kiss on the cheek as a reward. “Ann come here. Now hold your skirt up above your knees.” Ann looked at her as if she wasn’t all there and for a moment Dorrie wasn’t sure she’d obey. “There you are to help you to remember the letter A Ann with her legs exposed.” Bert grinned. Lucy muttered “I hate to think what she’ll think of for the other letters.” Bert heard her and looked expectantly at Dorrie. Dorrie lent in and kissed him on the lips. “I’ll think of something.”

She drew a letter B on her slate and Bert drew the same letter rubbing out a couple of wrong strokes first. Dorrie exclaimed “Well done.” Kissed him then bared her breast and thrust her nipple between his teeth. “B is for breast.” Bert slurped away contentedly. “Looks more like a nipple to me.” Commented Lucy. Dorrie picked up her slate and wrote an N. Bert copied it easily. Dorrie got up from his lap. “Your turn Lucy, a kiss as a reward, then show him your nipple.” Lucy blushed furiously but sat down in Bert’s lap and gave him a deep kiss before unbuttoning her blouse and exposing her nipple which Bert fondled gently before kissing it lightly. “So do you need a governess to teach you your letters or will we do?” “You never know he might like a strict governess, Major Windham’s spanked him on his bottom with a cane when he got his irregular French verbs wrong.” Bert lifted his lips away from Lucy’s nipple. “You’ll do. Dorrie you get the same as the others 10 bob a week.” “Ten bob a week that’s better than London wages. If I’d have known you were paying that much I’d never have left home.” “We get our own rooms an’ all.” Piped in Ann.

The next morning Dorrie entered the kitchen where Bert was preparing eggs and bacon. “Don’t tell me you’ve got the master cooking your breakfast?” “Well he’s better at cooking breakfast than we are.” “Two eggs?” Bert asked and Dorrie nodded her agreement. After breakfast Dorrie supervised Bert taking the carpets out to the line to beat them. “I know, I know if it’s to be spick and span I’d best beat the carpets and if the rest isn’t spick and span as well I could beat a few maids.” Lucy put her tongue out at him then found a mop and bucket to start on the hall. By Tuesday Dorrie had gone through the house and had her brother come over for the day to haul furniture about. Ann found three matching unchipped china cups and saucers together with three plates and a tea pot in the same pattern. Dorrie started to experiment making small cakes in the kitchen so they could serve refreshments in the same manner as they had in London.

Florentia looked round, very impressed with the manners of the maid who’d opened the door to her. London trained no doubt. The hall was neater than she’d expect of a bachelor establishment. Dorrie had taken her coat then escorted her to the parlour where Bert was sitting with his slates. “You’ve made a start then?” She enquired. “Dorrie has been getting me to copy out my letters.” Just then Dorrie entered carrying a tray with a tea pot and some small cakes and placed them down on the table in front of Florentia. She curtsied to Florentia “I thought if I could spend an hour every morning with him he might get on faster.” “Well if he’s happy with the arrangement I don’t have a lot of time before the wedding and afterwards Shadrack tells me there will be much to do keeping the parish going but I could lend you some books to help. They’re really childrens’ books but you have to start somewhere. Now you must let me have the receipt for these cakes.”   When quizzed later Florentia by the gossips she mentioned the house was spick and span although the furniture was a little dated.

Dorrie drew a C for Bert to copy. When it was done and Bert given a kiss to encourage him Lucy arrived with a tray. “C is for cup and in it we made you some chocolate. I hope I got it right but Dorrie told us about how all the London toffs drank it so we thought we’d try to make some for you.” Bert tried a sip. “I think I prefer coffee.” Ann pounced on it “I’d like to try some.” She took a sip and soon Lucy tried a sip as well. “Looks like you enjoyed it.” Remarked Bert. “It’s tasty.” Murmured Lucy. “We’d better have some in stock then so you can have a cup occasionally.” Lucy wondered about D for Dorrie upstairs on the bed?

“We need to stock up on more wood or coal before winter and we’ll need more than you can gather up easily.” Bert looked up from fondling Lucy. “And going through the papers there is one that is an enclosure act for the land. I think you need a steward to sort things out.” Bert never had got on well with stewards, they were someone to avoid. Besides he had money they’d buy whatever was needed. Dorrie shook her head. “I’ll have me brother gather up some wood, shall I?” “Fine.” Bert tended to agree with whatever Dorrie suggested since she had her head screwed on right.

Lord Robert had always been the family member who took an interest in the estate. Gradually as her elder brother was off in London sowing his oats with his father’s full approval, it was Henrietta who had taken over more of the day to day consultations with the steward, at least that way she wasn’t subjected to the never ending comments about her bringing disgrace to the family name. It seemed that marriage would be out of the question for her and she dreamt of some way to escape the disapproving looks her father and any social callers gave her. A London season was definitely out of the question. At least learning about how the estate ran was interesting and the sheep didn’t give her so many disapproving looks. Now with Lord Robert’s return she found herself excluded from managing the estate.

She had a letter from one of the few friends who had stood by her. Marina had married and now after the birth of her first child felt the need to see her friend and show off her dearest child. Twenty miles to travel, the head groom suggested a light carriage and a team of six horses would make the journey faster and with a team of six they should be able to just drive through any muddy lanes on the way. He’d send an armed mounted groom with them to ensure their safety. Henrietta spoke to Fanny, one of the upstairs maids who came from the area that Marina was living in. Would she be interested in travelling as Henrietta’s maid on the trip? She should have an opportunity to visit at least some of her family.

They set off in the morning twilight well before six o’clock. The coachman changed teams halfway there thinking the second team would get him both there and back to the inn where he would have the Viscount’s cattle for the trip home and hopefully be home by seven o’clock when it would be dusk. It was coming up for eight o’clock when they changed teams and they pressed on until they were in the last village before Marina’s home. Excitedly Fanny approached her. Her cousins were working as maids at a farmhouse just down the lane. Could she possibly... Henrietta agreed for there was only a couple of miles left and she was sure Marina would lend her one if she needed one. They dropped Fanny off at the end of the lane and arranged to come up to the farmhouse and pick her up about half past three that afternoon.

Marina welcomed her with open arms. Didn’t she agree Nathaniel must surely be the most advanced three-month old baby in the world. Henrietta looked down on the bundle of pink that was sleeping contentedly and offered the opinion that just by looking at him anyone could see he must be the most handsome, intelligent baby in the world. Marina wrinkled her nose suspiciously “I’m glad you agree with me. There’s so much to tell you and so little time. You should have agreed to visit me for at least a month. You’ll set all the gossips talking travelling without a maid.” “Oh Fanny stopped off at a farmhouse about a mile or so away to visit her cousins whom she hasn’t seen in ages.” “I wonder if it’s the new mysterious landowner.” “What on earth can be mysterious about a landowner?” “Well this one isn’t quality that’s for sure. He has the largest estate for miles around but does absolutely nothing with it. It’s still Open Fields whatever that is but my dear husband Giles says it isn’t at all the thing these days and I know for a fact that an act of enclosure was finally passed not two years ago.” “What’s he like?” “Young that we do know, he bullied the vicar into getting married.” “Surely not?” “He was the curate and Miss Garvey, that was, was compromised by him or did she compromise him? Anyway it was all very scandalous at the time and the bank manager had to witness the new landowner’s mark on a letter to the bishop since he couldn’t read or write. Actually Florentia is a dear and quite one of my best friends apart from yourself of course. She said that if she hadn’t managed to compromise the vicar he might never have been offered the living.”

“Where does he get his money from then if he’s not doing anything with the estate?” “Well there are still half a dozen cottagers so they supply him with the essentials in lieu of rent. Florentia is the only one who has visited him and that was only once but she did say he had a London trained maid answer the door. How she could tell I’ll never know but thinking about it there is a difference. She was served a pot of tea with matching china cups and plates but noted the furniture didn’t match and the curtains were a bit worn but everything was spotless. We grilled her mercilessly. Giles has spoken to him and said he’s easy to get on with. Giles has more than half our cattle and sheep grazing on his land. He says he’ll give him some lambs and calves to make up when he gets round to employing a shepherd or stockman. Giles says it’s a shame to not use the land and that sheep droppings are good for the soil.” She tilted her head “You know if only he was gentry you could come and stay for a fortnight and we’d invite him to dine with us every day but he’s not.” “And I dare say if he was gentry every other unmarried female with pretensions to gentry would be setting their caps at him as well.”

Marina frowned “I’d have to warn them off wouldn’t I?” “Besides which he might not wish to dine here every night for a fortnight.” “Oh I’m sure he would. He only has ordinary food there, same as the cottagers. Nothing like the experiences our chef can conjure up.” “Anyway enough of our mystery man come and inspect the nursery. Giles has already been out and brought a rocking horse for it and a complete regiment of toy soldiers which he’s painting in his old regimental colours.” As they climbed the stairs together Marina had a thought “You know that horrible little man who ruined you?” “How could I ever forget?” “Well the gossip from my maid who had it from the groom she’s stepping out with is that it might not have been an accidental death at all.” “Someone plunged a knife in his back and the magistrate overlooked it?” “No but there were some unexplained rope burns on him as if he’d been knocked off his horse whilst riding at speed and some bruising on him that wasn’t quite right for someone coming off his horse according to the groom although he might have been making it up to appear interesting to my maid.” “It was fortunate that he came off and tumbled into that tiny ditch unconscious face down. I think my guardian angel was out that morning.” They entered the nursery and the subject was dropped. “Now what do you think about the curtains here in the nursery?”

Henrietta had a quiet thought about when she’d been twelve, Bert had gone very quiet after Sir Parker had died and had made no mention of the death to her. He’d gone off to foreign places soon afterwards. She wondered at the back of her mind what had happened that day.

Fanny arrived at the farmhouse and slipped in through the kitchen door. Bert was preparing a stew in the kitchen. “Hello are you looking for work?” She seemed comely enough. “No I’m after my cousin Lucy. I think she works here.” Bert wondered over to the kitchen door and gave a shout. “Lucy you’re wanted in the kitchen!” Lucy appeared a few moments later. “Yes my Lord.” And gave him a curtsy. Bert growled at her and she broke into laughter before spotting Fanny. “Fanny how wonderful, you’ll have to ignore us we aren’t very well behaved.” “Want to take her up to the parlour and I’ll fetch some tea?” Asked Bert. “It’s us who should be waiting on you not the other way round, all right, just this once.”

Fanny gave her a questioning look as they entered the parlour. “Oh its all right. Bert is the master but he’s very relaxed and not stuffy at all. Dorrie is teaching him his letters and his sums. He owns the estate but really has no idea what to do with it. The steward died years ago and Dorrie is only just going through his papers now.” “I wonder if he’d mind a female steward?” “We can always ask him.” Bert came carrying a tray through the door “Ask me what?” “My mistress used to run their estate until her brother came home but he’s taken up the reins again now.” “Bored is she?” “Well yes I think she is. You don’t have to decide now she’ll be coming up to pick me up this afternoon.” Fanny sipped her tea gracefully. “I could get used to this, having the master wait on me.” She fluttered her eyelashes provocatively “I’ve enough staff at the moment thank you very much. I’ll leave you to it and go and sort out the kitchen.”

“Well how did you end up in clover here then?” “Well it’s a bit of luck really. We was working for old Mrs. Pratt when she died and the curate sent us along. He was managing without anyone but Dorrie’s teaching him to read and write and we spoil him as much as he spoils us.” “You don’t mean?” “Certainly not, we’re good girls we are. We just flirt with him occasionally.” Dorrie had a fit of coughing. “Then he invited the curate’s fiancee up to see about teaching him his letters and we panicked and got Dorrie up here to help us clean up. Well the house had been empty for years. Dorrie stayed on to teach him his letters.”

Just after three in the afternoon the coach rolled up and Fanny gathered up her things. When she reached the coach she greeted Henrietta “I think you’d better come in for a moment and see the master. He’s looking for someone who could run his estate.” “But probably not a young lady.” “It won’t take a second to speak to him and the estate does need sorting out.” Fanny pleaded. Henrietta stepped down from the coach and in to the farmhouse.

“You need someone who knows something about running an estate.” “I’ve money enough to last me my days why worry about the estate?” “Well it would make life better for the estate workers.” “Are there any left?” Henrietta thought she recognised the male voice. “Bert is it really you?” Bert got up and looked up in amazement. “Miss Henrietta, I would have thought you’d been married years ago.” “Not after the great scandal, I’ve been keeping out of father’s way by running the estate at home for years now until my brother came home, now its back to needlework.” She looked round at the assortment of chairs “At least I know what to give you for Christmas. Do you really own this estate?” “Apparently so, your brother won three estates in a tontine and gave me the one with the lowest income rather than explain to your father what he’d been up to.” “Sounds just like Robert. Have you any funds to go with the estate?” “I’ve still the best part of nearly four thousand pounds. I haven’t spent much other than the three maids here. Do you really think you could sort it out?” “I probably could but the title of steward wouldn’t be accepted by anyone on the estate nor would the family accept it much as I’d like to escape from home.”

“You could become a housekeeper?” Interjected Dorrie. “I really don’t know that much about housekeeping.” “I was thinking in title only. The books for the estate are in the office. You could take a look at them?” Henrietta followed Dorrie into the office. “Took a bit of a look myself and five years ago the rents were five thousand a year but since the steward fell ill and died the tenants have drifted away. All that’s left is a few cottagers and its still an open field estate but there is a letter here somewhere that mentions enclosure.”

“If you’d like the job, Miss Henrietta, it’s yours. Fifty pounds a years and twenty percent of the increase in income over last years.” “It’s tempting.” She thought for a moment and recalled Sir Parker. “Thank you.” She said looking at Bert and both knew it wasn’t just the job she was talking about. “Fanny there is a lot of planning to be done so take the coach back. Mention to my brother I’ve taken a post as housekeeper and bring back my belongings.” “You’ll be wanting Fanny as well no doubt?” “We’ll need every penny I can find to sort the estate out but yes it would be nice to have Fanny.”

Henrietta walked over to the big house and remembered to go to the kitchen door where she asked to speak to the housekeeper. “I’m working for Bert so I’ll be trying to put the estate to rights. To do that though I need to know what each field was like when they were under plough.” The housekeeper thought for a moment “Viscount Courtenay’s daughter?” She queried. When this was affirmed, she summoned one or two maids and together they made a list of who had been around in the old days. “Now I think my mistress could do with some advice about a house party and how to organise it. We’ve staff enough but it’s ideas she’ll be after never having held one before.” Henrietta was shown up to Mistress in the back drawing room and together they drew up a list of activities that usually worked to keep the guests entertained at a house party. “Now is there anything we can do in return?” Henrietta thought not but the housekeeper remarked “You’ll have to talk to a lot of people sorting the estate out and there are spare horses in the stables so why not use them when needed?”

Bert soon found himself escorting Henrietta about the estate each afternoon after his lessons in the morning. Men would talk to him sensibly but weren’t at all sure about discussing estate matters with Henrietta. She drew up a map of the estate with each field marked down with as much detail as she could. She talked to Giles and Marina about running the two estates as one so they could share equipment and men. Then she started spending Bert’s money. Bert wasn’t sure about buying the more expensive ploughs and seed drills but Giles said it made sense and they’d need fewer horses to do the same work, besides he couldn’t bring himself to question what she was doing having been brought up to think she was far above him. He did think buying books was an extravagance but on the other hand they were interesting to read. Unfortunately the local shop only had a few and he’d soon read them all.

“Thomas I’ve been thinking.” Mr. Sharples looked up from his paper. “It’ll be Christmas in a few months.” “Six is it?” “It’ll soon be upon us mark my words.” “Time to buy a goose is it?” “Thomas Sharples be serious for once in your life.” “Yes dear.” “I thought to have some sort of Christmas entertainment.” “And?” “I thought a party or two with dancing?” “Sounds innocent enough.” “But I can’t think of a way to get our owner’s housekeeper there in a pretty dress. She won’t accept charity.” “But her maid might buy something at a jumble sale in aid of the church roof?” “Especially if she looked through the material here first so she knew what would be on sale and helped with the jumble sale. I’ll speak to the Vicar’s new wife about organising it.” “I’d best send off to the mill then and see about a few over runs and remnants in the latest most fashionable fabrics then hadn’t I?” “Best throw in a few for shirts and workers ordinary clothing we don’t want it to look too pointed.”

Fanny was easy. She’d become friendly with Enid, Mrs. Sharples’s maid so next time she arrived the scheme was explained to her. Enid showed her what they had so far and told her more was being sent down. “Don’t you worry I’ll have her turned out in fine style.”

She called on Florentia on Wednesday afternoon after sending a note first to enquire if she would be available. “Mr. Sharples is reluctant to give money to the church roof fund without any other donors but we have some lengths of material we could donate to a jumble sale for the benefit of the church roof fund and I can ask Fanny to organise it. She’s knowledgeable about material and what would be a reasonable asking price.” Florentia committed the vicar and the deal was done.

Fanny gathered up the material she thought that Henrietta would look best in and put it to one side. Then she went through the rest and split it into three piles with a different price per yard for each according to the thread count. Henrietta’s would be picked up later but the rest would be set up on tables for the jumble sale. Florentia had thought that if they lowered the prices gradually during the afternoon then they’d get the best price but the poorer villagers would still manage to buy some as well especially as Lucy had been dispatched to give five florins to each cottage by Enid so they might be able to afford some of the material.

The sale was well attended. Florentia made the first official purchase of a fine cloth she thought would make up well, but others quickly followed. In fact it went so well that Florentia mentioned to Shadrack that perhaps they had enough for a village hall that could be used for both a school and the occasional dance.

Fanny sneaked one of Henrietta’s old dresses off to Enid and then she had

Henrietta come over to the big house where they could show her the material available and the designs they thought suitable. Henrietta’s nose twitched and Fanny felt twinges of doubt. “Well if we’re going to do it best do it in style.” Henrietta studied the various material carefully. In someways this would be her debut and she was determined as Fanny was to be the best dressed at the Christmas Ball.

Together Henrietta and Bert visited all the nearby landowners who were running sheep and cattle on his land and accepted some as payment for rent for grazing the last couple of years. She worked tirelessly on the estate. This time it was with a view to gaining an independence. She found that explaining estate matters to Bert worked out well. Together they schemed on what would be best. Bert was all for repairing the worker’s cottages remembering his early life. Henrietta thought the first thing should be to get the estate profitable. The cottages could come later.

By Christmas time everything had been planned out meticulously and the household prepared to celebrate Christmas. The Sharples’ Christmas Ball was to be held two days after Boxing Day for as Mrs. Sharples said after all the heavy food on Christmas day and Boxing day no one would feel like dancing for a day or two. On the day of the ball Henrietta rested in the afternoon then bathed before walking slowly over to the manor house after a light tea with Fanny. She was shown upstairs where Fanny helped her into her dress. Enid slipped in to do her hair. Then she descended the grand staircase and entered the drawing room where sherry was being served before dinner. Bert was stood to the side sipping his sherry when she entered the room but quickly made his way to her side. “You don’t think that neckline is...” He floundered looking for the right words. “Demure?” She grinned at him. “Compared to Miss Henthorn’s of course.” Since Miss Henthorn had once mentioned to Henrietta that if all you have is your up fronts you have to make the best of them and tonight with barely any covering over them at all her poor nipples were standing out due to the cold no doubt. Colonel Wilson was stood trying to make conversation with Miss Isabel Henthorn but with her limited knowledge and her distracting cleavage the words were few and far between however Miss Henthorn was more than pleased with the attention she was getting.

“Do you think I should rescue poor Colonel Wilson from Isabel? He must be bored to tears.” “Not in that dress, it might not show quite as much as Isabel’s does but its still barely respectable.” He stood protecting her from the gazes of rest of the room. “Let’s go and greet our hosts?” She stepped forward and Bert stepped with her not leaving her side for a moment. Henrietta thought about mentioning to Bert it wasn’t the done thing to stand up with someone for more than two dances but then reflected it wasn’t high society and she enjoyed dancing with him so they danced every dance together. When the musicians took a break and paused for some refreshment the dancers did to.

As they walked towards the drawing room where a buffet had been set out Burt noticed a sprig of mistletoe hanging in the doorway. He glanced down at Henrietta who was looking hopeful and kissed her gently. “I think that was a mistake.” “I’m sure you’ll get better with practise.” Burt looked puzzled for a moment as Henrietta led him away. “You’re excellent husband material you know.” Burt gave her another puzzled look. “You own a large estate that will be very profitable in the future.” “You mean if I were to ask for your hand?” “I’d accept. You don’t mind soiled goods do you?” Burt blinked twice. “That wasn’t your fault, besides I made sure he wouldn’t do it again.” He looked taken back at what he’d admitted. Henrietta rewarded him with another kiss just as Florentia arrived. “Burt, compromising this sweet young lady, shall I have Shadrack call the banns? Sorry I couldn’t resist but I’ll ask him if you like.” Burt and Henrietta looked at each other and both agreed to have the banns called.

Two months later when Lord Roberts found out his sister was married he finally prevailed upon his pater to pay Henrietta her dowery. “Go and see my man of business he’s got the details, should be some £20,000 or so in the consols.” He travelled down to London to see Mr. Wooding. “She’s married you say?” Lord Roberts could sense some hesitation. “Is the money safe Mr. Wooding? It was supposed to be invested in the funds.” “Well £5,000 or so is but Matt thought a different investment might be better for the rest.” “Where’s Matt?” “Up Manchester way at present.” “And when is he returning?” “I’m not too sure.” “We’d best go to Manchester then immediately had we not. I’m quite certain you have nothing more pressing.” Mr. Wooding wiped his brow. “Well if you put it like that I supposed we’d better.”

They travelled up in Viscount Courtenay’s travelling coach which was fairly comfortable but even so with the state of the roads and not pressing the horses too hard it took them a week to travel the two hundred miles to Manchester.

Mr. Wooding had some difficulty in finding where Matt was since he’d moved house but eventually they arrived after the coachman bribed a boy to lead the way. “Matt Lord Roberts mentioned Henrietta was married recently so he’s come to recover her dowery.” “I suppose you’ll want it in cash?” “That was the idea. Wasn’t it supposed to be invested in consols?” Hariet stepped out from behind him “You’d better come in and have a cup of tea whilst we explain what happened.” “You mean I can’t have the cash today? It sounds like I need a magistrate.” “Oh come in and sit yourself down and let me explain first then if you feel you need a magistrate then we can bring one in.” “Who are you?” “Matt’s wife now are you coming in or not?”

Lord Robert sat himself down and was served tea and Eccles cake. “Now then explain.” “Eleven years ago Matt got himself involved with a Mr. Aspden and the long and the short of it is Henrietta’s dowery is now tied up in a mill.” “Can it be sold?” “If I tell you the profit last year was more than ten thousand pounds that begs the question does she want to? And don’t forget with the interest rates going up the value of the consols is down.” “I don’t understand it was only twenty thousand to start with how can it give rise to that sort of profits unless you’ve been slave trading or something equally illegal?” “Mr. Aspden didn’t have enough money to complete the mill but his pretty daughter persuaded Matt to invest five hundred pounds which he didn’t have in the mill.” Lord Robert raised his eyebrow at Matt. “Eventually Mr. Wooding came up to inspect with Matt and he decided to buy out Mr. Aspden for a thousand before he went bankrupt.” Lord Robert frowned at Mr. Wooding. “So I assume they decided to complete the mill?” “Yes but they didn’t know the first thing about building one or running it so they turned to me. Me dad suggested it and he was foreman on the construction site.” “Go on.” “Well it took a good dollop of cash and of course the dowery had that and we’ve been reinvesting the profits ever since. We’d had good years and bad but over the years it’s built up so now its worth near ninety thousand pounds.” “So the dowery is now worth that much. “Not quite, the agreement was after ten years Matt was to be given one share out of the twenty so say eighty-five thousand in round figures and I think there is still five thousand left in the consols.”

Lord Robert sat back in his chair. “Sounds to me as if Mr. Wooding and Matt got themselves in a mess and you pulled their chestnuts out of the fire. It could have gone very wrong.” “But it didn’t, I knew the business side of things. Matt looked after the books so we worked well in partnership and he does get paid two hundred a year which is quite a comfortable living.”

“I think we’d all better go and see Henrietta and see what she says.” Hariet spoke to her two children and told them they’d better be good whilst Grandma looked after them. The travelling coach was spacious enough for the five of them and Hariet enjoyed sampling the fine cuisine that Lord Robert seemed to be able to order for their dinner no matter which inn they stayed at.

When they reached Bert’s estate Lord Robert was surprised to see him until he recollected this must be the estate that he’d signed over to him. “So to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit brother dear? And why so many?” Henrietta caught sight of Hariet and invited them all in for refreshments. “I spoke with pater about your dowery and after I pointed out to him I could give it to you when he died anyway he agreed you should have it. It was twenty thousand pounds in the consols by the way.” “It was?” Hariet explained what had happened. “So you see you have a choice either to accept the eighty-five thousand or send Matt and Mr. Wooding to trial and if you accept the eighty-five thousand do you sell your shares in the mill or just take a dividend?” “How much would the dividend be?” “In the order of six or seven thousand a year. Enough to do the season each year certainly.” Henrietta deferred to her husband as was proper. “Would you like to do the season?” “The town house is available.” Interjected Lord Roberts. “Why not. I never did have one.” Henrietta turned to Hariet “Are you coming to upset the ton?” “They’d never have anything to do with the like of us.” “Of course they will. We’re married so no competition and no one would ever cut the heir to a Viscount. We’ll throw a ball and invite whom we like. I’m sure you have some contacts in trade who will be visiting London and I’m told you haven’t experienced life until you’ve experienced Madam Lefebvre sticking a pin in you.”

“Would you have married me if you’d known about your dowery?” “I’ve an intelligent husband who is kind and I’ve grown fond of you over time. Much better than marrying someone with a title after three dances, you never know how they will turn out.” Hariet turned to Matt “Are you satisfied with your wife after marrying her under duress?” He slipped his arm round her waist and kissed her on the cheek “I couldn’t have found a better one and your thoughts?” “You’ve grown on me and now I couldn’t imagine life without you.” She twisted in his arms and kissed him full on the lips.

Henrietta turned to Burt “There are a wealth of bookshops in London that are bound to have some you haven’t read. With the help of a good dressmaker or tailor plus a dancing master and Cinderella will go to the ball.” Burt wondered if he had enough to afford a valet and a few clothes such as he’d worn to the shoot.