Sir Thomas’s Bride_Masterful Husbands_Book One, page 8
Margaret truly felt mistress of her own home for the first time since her marriage. She held the chatelaine keys to the house and she was in charge of her household. Margaret was delighted when Thomas returned in time for tea later that day and so she could share her achievements with him.
Margaret poured tea from the silver pot and handed her husband the delicate bone china cup and saucer. She had filled him in on her successful day and had dismissed Gates, wishing to serve Thomas tea herself. Mrs. Cox had outdone herself with hot buttered crumpets, followed by a selection of tiny cakes and fancies.
"The good news is that we might leave London for Sussex whenever we chose. Mortimer is no longer needed in the Lords and the King is to move his household to the Palace at Kew for the summer."
"Thomas, might we travel with our own household? I really do not wish to travel with the Mortimer's. I know that Benedict is your friend but I really and truly detest Rose."
Thomas frowned. "There are highwaymen to consider, my dear. It makes sense to travel in a larger group. There is truth in the old saying, 'there is safety in numbers'."
Margaret rolled her eyes and Thomas smiled his roguish smile thus warning her to watch her behaviour. She was at last learning to read her husband's body language. Quickly she apologised to him, asking him sweetly to reconsider his decision.
"I am afraid I cannot change the arrangement, Bee, even if I wanted to, which I don't." She made a moue of her lips. "Please, Thomas—for me?" she wheedled.
"A spanking before we retire tonight should settle you down for at least a while, I should think," Thomas told her brightly, smiling kindly at his now sulking wife. Margaret clattered her teacup back onto its saucer in a huff. Would she never learn to hold her tongue when she wanted to argue with her husband?
Chapter 15
Margaret reflected on how quickly a week had passed. There had been so much to arrange and direct before the heavy, lumbering luggage coach had set off for Longetlestone, filled with boxes containing the bulk of Sir Thomas and Lady Margaret's wardrobe. The swaying vehicle was driven by the competent under coachman Simons, rather than Jackson, who was needed to convey his mistress to Sussex on the following day.
Winter clothes were always left behind in the London house for when they returned at the end of the summer season, which should have meant less luggage, but Margaret always erred on the side of caution with her wardrobe at least and so most of her clothing was packed to go.
On the day following, Margaret and Hockley were to travel down in their own coach, while Lady Rose, her dogs Pippin and Holly, along with her maid, Eloise, was to travel in the Mortimer coach. They had fewer luggage boxes to send ahead because they generally lived the entire year at Merriton Hall.
Margaret was relieved that she would not be sharing a coach with her nemesis Rose Mortimer, especially since she had once again earned herself another severe strapping on the previous evening for her continued peevishness, mainly regarding Lady Rose, and thus was bound to shift about uncomfortably about in her seat.
She had earned her punishment for throwing her dinner at Thomas. It had all begun when he insisted that his wife leave a box of hats, gloves and bonnets behind, one that had not fitted into the baggage coach earlier in the day. Margaret had wanted to squeeze the box into the travelling coach with her on the following day but the luggage rack was already full to bursting and the inside of the carriage was the only place left for the box to be stowed.
Thomas fully intended to ride his horse for part of the journey and ride inside the carriage with Margaret when he chose thus giving the horse a rest, while he dallied pleasantly in idle chit-chat with his wife in the comfort of the coach. An over large box situated in the carriage would have meant horse and rider journeying on horseback for the entire two-day trip into Sussex. Thomas wasn't having that and he said so while they were seated at dinner.
When he found himself wearing his wife's roast beef and gravy, he threw down his serviette and calmly left the room to change, only to find on his return that the bird had flown the coop. This was a familiar pattern that he determined to put a stop to. Thomas decided enough was enough, by George!
He found Margaret hiding in one of the empty guest bedrooms and removed her to their own chamber, using the restraint ottoman to punish and lecture her, leaving her strapped down while he went down to finish his own meal. Margaret mused tearfully on her earlier behaviour with her very red and scalding bottom on full display. When her maid Hockley came into the chamber to lay out her mistress's nightgown in preparation for the night, she was shocked to be faced with her ladyship's scarlet rump splayed before her and hurriedly left the room with an equally flushed face.
Thomas returned after dining and decided to take full advantage of his wife's inviting openness, plunging his manhood deep inside her wet and welcoming channel. Margaret, determined not to enjoy her husband's rude invasion of her person, nonetheless found herself excited by her situation and culminated vocally and robustly. Margaret found that being bound added piquancy to her enjoyment of Thomas’s lovemaking. The control her husband exacted over her body, with his discipline and pleasures, both excited Margaret and calmed her. She felt cherished and safe under Thomas's mastery of her and she respected his husbandry authority.
Now faced with a two-day journey in which she would be seated most of the time, Margaret regretted the folly of the previous night. After all, had she not an ample number of hats, gloves and fans already at Longetlestone? She was such a nincompoop to have antagonised Thomas in such a childish way, but she found that after a period of time had elapsed since her last spanking, she seemed quite unable to control her devilish temper.
Her morning awakening had been a sweet one. Thomas awoke her, his breath sweeping away her lingering dreams as he whispered words of love and ran his sure hands over her stirring body. The punishing sting of her derriere had strangely heightened her passions and Thomas's lovemaking had her almost crying aloud her love for him.
Margaret had not repeated her declaration of love for her husband, not since the time he had slept through as she first uttered those precious three words. Confused by the fact that Thomas had known all along when she had hidden up in the attics, Margaret felt unsure of his motives for leaving her there overnight. She hoped that in her former home at Longetlestone, she would be able to see things clearly and would feel able to declare her love for him with no lingering doubts.
They left for Sussex at ten of the clock and Thomas rode his horse Brandy while Margaret and her maid Hockley travelled inside the carriage. They met the Mortimer's coach outside Hyde Park and set off in entourage, with the two husbands riding behind conversing together about various sporting events that both men looked forward to whenever the summer season was upon them; cricket was one such topic of conversation and horse racing was another.
The plan was to stop half way and spend a night at 'Fullers Tavern', a renowned coaching inn situated at Edenbridge, Kent. This meant a journey time of five to six hours, perhaps longer with a stop for luncheon, which would mean they needed to cover some twenty-five miles that day.
The weather was warm and fair until they left the London streets behind them and then the heavens opened and the rain bucketed down, making their journey more difficult and slower going. By late mid-day, the sun was peeping through the clouds and they came upon a higher piece of ground that was free of mud and puddles and thus safe to pull off the road to enjoy a break for their luncheon. The ladies' husbands had joined their wives inside the carriages once the rain had begun in earnest and now they picnicked outside together upon the baskets of delicious victuals, prepared by their respective cooks.
Pressing onwards, they made the safety of Edenbridge and Fullers Tavern by late afternoon. They accepted dinner, arranged for them within a private dining room and set well away from the hoi-polloi in the main ale parlour of the inn. A couple of unsavoury looking coves sat unobserved in a dark corner of the ale house and watched with intense interest as Lord Mortimer and Sir Thomas guided their wives through the bawdy atmosphere of the room, toward the stairs that led up to their chambers for the night.
"Ere, Ned, didn't I tell 'ee the pickin's would be good on this 'ere road, see 'em pretty baubles them rich hussy's was a-wearing?"
"Aye, Jake, I see'd 'em all right, an' I'm a wantin' em!" The two highwaymen chuckled, clanked their pewter tankards, put their heads together and laid their plans for the morrow.
Neither lady slept well that night, despite their amorous husbands' best intentions to exhaust their pretty wives! The women found the lumpy mattresses of the tavern too uncomfortable to sleep well.
Margaret was relieved to pull away from the inn the following morning. She had not enjoyed the overnight stop one iota; well, apart from Thomas's lovemaking, that she always seemed to enjoy.
The journey was made difficult due to more rain overnight that had turned the coach road into a quagmire of mud. They stopped at mid-day at a coaching inn at Lewes in Sussex and partook of an excellent luncheon of partridge in plum sauce. None of them noticed the two blaggards watching them from across the tavern, tucked as the men were into the shadows that were their usual haunt.
The party moved outside to find the sun out and the rain stopped and so Thomas and Benedict decided to ride on horseback together for a while. They had gone no more than fifty yards down the road, when the coach that Margaret was travelling in lurched sickeningly to the right with a clatter and a loud rending sound as the right front wheel of the coach slipped and foundered, caught deep in a mudded rut.
Margaret and Hockley were thrown against the carriage door, which popped open and spilled Hockley out into the road with a screech of alarm. The gentleman leapt from their mounts and ran to her aid, although Thomas first of all stuck his head inside the carriage to ascertain the safety of his wife.
Williams the coachman, Lady Rose, her maid Eloise and the yapping dogs also stood gazing at the poor Hockley, who groaned despite the kindly assistance of Lord Mortimer. He looked over to Thomas.
"By Hades, I think her arm is broken, Wiggington." At this news, Hockley at once went limp in a dead faint, whereupon Williams, the Mortimer's coachman, swept her up into his strong young arms and stood awaiting instructions.
"I am sorry to interrupt, milord but I-I think my ankle might be broken, sir!" They all turned to see Jackson sat upon the ground, nursing a swollen ankle, which already appeared to be twice its normal size.
By now a small crowd of townspeople had gathered about them and a tall and distinguished looking gentleman stepped forward. "Might I be of assistance? I am the doctor hereabouts. Doctor Alan Sherringham, at your service, my Lord." The man bowed courteously and Lord Mortimer held out his hand which the Doctor shook.
"We have, as you see, a couple of wounded here, Doctor, and we would indeed be most grateful for your assistance. I thank you."
Doctor Sherringham examined both servants and confirmed broken bones in each.
"Where is your destination, my lord?" he asked.
"We are travelling to Merriton and hoped to reach there by nightfall, sir."
"I see. Well, my lord, might I suggest that you leave these two injured people with me while I try to set the bones and administer laudanum. They can be collected in a few days' time when they are more comfortable and able to travel."
Thomas followed Benedict as he indicated they move away from the ladies to discuss their dilemma with Dr. Sherringham
"Williams can drive our wives on to Merriton in our coach along with Eloise and your portmanteau, Thomas. We can ride horseback and we should arrive there by evening. Sir Thomas and I will send to collect our servants in a couple of days. What say you, sir?" he said to the doctor, who nodded his approval.
Thomas also nodded in agreement before he said, "A reasonably sound plan my friend, except for one thing."
Benedict Mortimer looked puzzled. "What have I overlooked?" he asked, somewhat bemused.
"Our wives will have to travel in the same carriage together for a couple of hours or more, sir!"
"Foutre, you're right! I hadn't thought of that. What do you suggest then, Thomas?"
Thomas cocked his head and grinned with his piratical smile. "We threaten each lady with a taste of the crop should either misbehave."
Benedict's eyes gleamed and his lip twitched. "What a capital idea, sir! I shall inform my wife of the plan immediately!"
Each husband took his wife aside and laid out the strategy for the remainder of the journey. As soon as punishment for bad behaviour was mentioned, Margaret glanced sharply up at Rose, who in turn glared back at her.
It took a good half hour to arrange for a wheelwright to mend the coach wheel and yet another to settle Hockley and Jackson into the comfortable home of Doctor and Mrs. Sherringham. Lord Mortimer paid the good Doctor handsomely for his care and trouble and then finally they were on their way once again to Merriton Hall, the Mortimer's stately home.
Chapter 16
After a couple of hours of travelling, the sky began to darken alarmingly. Both horses were skittish and sensed a storm in the brewing. The gentlemen reined in and discussed the situation.
"We are some three quarters of an hour away from Merriton travelling at this speed but if we rode hard, we could be there in perhaps twenty minutes by horseback, what say you, Thomas?"
"The ladies are behaving well and I have seen no evidence of any repeat of their previous antsy behaviour. I do believe they should be all right to continue the journey alone together. We can collect a coach and return to meet them on the road, no harm should befall them in such a short space of time. Margaret has her small pistol with her and is well versed on how to use it."
"Well, come to that, Williams is armed. I think we have no choice, man, for if a storm breaks, I know that Devil will bolt and your Brandy seems of the same mind!"
"Come then sir, let us inform our ladies."
The ladies were not only unconcerned by their husband's departure; they were actually relieved. However, it was not long before bickering broke out between them. Eloise, Rose's ladies' maid, who had been with her mistress since she was a small child and was therefore far more outspoken than another maid might have been, tried unsuccessfully to halt the spiralling discord between the two women.
"You have coveted my husband and Merriton Hall, that is why you scuppered my fund raising ball, admit it!" Rose Mortimer finally shrieked at Margaret.
"Ah, so now we get to it! You could not be more wrong, my lady, you are welcome to your popinjay husband, for I have my Thomas and he is worth ten of your Benny Benedict!"
Rose sniggered. "Squiggleworth—ten of Mortimer! Oh I think not, Mistress suck lemon face!"
Margaret growled and launched herself across the coach, slapping Rose's smug face with gusto. There followed a silly face slapping contest, until a bellow from above startled them both into a brief silence.
"What in blazes is going on down there, Mistress Eloise?" "Stop the coach, now, Williams!" Eloise shrieked.
The coach lurched to a halt but before Williams had time to climb down from his perch, the door of the carriage burst forth. Screaming abuse, Margaret and Rose fell out onto the ground rolling and pulling at one another's hair. Both genteel ladies of the ton were screeching obscenities at one another, using language generally only employed by soldiers, sailors and a certain type of man.
Hidden in a dark coppice of trees and unbeknown to the passengers of the coach, were Ned and Jake, the two highwaymen. "Sarding hell, they ain't nuthin' but a pair of high class doxies after all, Ned!"
"Aye, look at em, brawling like a couple of pugilists! I'll be bound those jewels are naught but paste, we've wasted our time here, my lad!"
"We should a realised it when the gents rode off an' left em to it. Come on, me old mucker, back to the tavern an' better luck next time I say!"
The two turned their nags silently, disappearing as shadows into the dark trees, leaving behind them the unpleasant shrieking of the two brawling ladies.
Margaret and Rose were too engrossed in their fight, to notice a carriage rounding the bend, which slowed to a halt near their own coach. The two ladies' stunned husbands climbed down, staring in total and utter disbelief at the spectacle before them. Each was speechless at the sight of their gently bred lady wives brawling like a pair of common tavern sluts.
All the while, Holly and Pippin danced in frantic circles about the antagonists, yapping and barking excitedly, while poor Eloise paced around and about the ladies imploring them both for sanity. Williams the coachman stood aside, mouth agape like a statue in shock at what he was actually witnessing.
After standing and staring for a moment or two more at the mud spattered and dishevelled combatants rolling in the dirt before him, Lord Mortimer spoke, "I shall bow to your superior experience in dealing with harridans and take your advice on how we approach this um, situation, Thomas."
Thomas scowled blackly as he replied in a low growl, "We lift up their skirts and blister their bums, believe me, there is no finesse about it!"
"Well yes, I rather thought to take that action myself, but surely we must do something more than that? This is, well, this is..." Mortimer gave up. Truly, he was at a loss for words.
"Does your cook possess such a thing as ginger root?" Thomas asked and winced as he witnessed Rose bite Margaret hard upon her shoulder.
Benedict looked bewildered at the question, wincing in turn, as he witnessed Margaret yank out a clump of Rose's lovely blonde hair. "Ginger root?" he queried.
"Yes, ginger root. You peel it, shape it and then deposit it in a lady's bottom hole. The hot juices run inside her and sting her wicked rump as much on the inside as a spanking does to her globes outside. It does her no harm at all but is a salient and uncomfortable lesson. One that continues for as long as she wears the root, it is sometimes known as figging, or gingering up. I fully intend to use the method on Margaret later on but first I want, no, need, to turn her over my knee and blister her behind!" So saying, Thomas strode forward with Benedict hot on his heels.
