A Wedding in Wottfordshire

He almost snorted before leaning in close. "You're so beautiful, Cat, and I liked you a lot, but in the end, you're a woman just like all the others I've had."

"And regrettably, the first question is answered, too, with a 'no.' You're not a nice man, Stephen, and I'm glad I learned that before I allowed myself to care for you or more."

"Oh, I think we took care of the 'more' last night." There was a snide, perhaps even proud, look on his face at his conquest, but I shook my head in defiance as I fought through the hurt and the advent of tears.

"No, Stephen, I gave you a chance last night and you failed with me just like you'll fail with every other woman with any mettle until you grow up. Oh, you may find someone to take to as your wife someday, but I know how you'll be and I feel for the poor woman who falls for your false charm as I almost did. Sadly, I can guess how truly miserable she'll be."

His smile dissolved into anger as I said it but I moved past him and finished, looking over my shoulder at him, with, "So goodbye, Stephen, and good riddance. I'm just glad I found out in time so I won't be the one."

"Cat! Cat! Come back," he called, standing his ground, demanding my obedience, but I continued on, ignoring him.

In truth, I should have been present to see him and his parents off a short time later, but under the circumstances, I stayed in my room to avoid the confrontation. It was well after they were gone before I emerged from my room to go down to see more guests on their way.

***

Just after our midday repast, I borrowed Royal for one last trip around Wottfordshire.

I dismounted a short distance from Nigel's stable where I could see it with little chance of anyone there seeing me. The stable door was open but neither Nigel nor his assistant was visible.

"I hope this works," I whispered to myself as I remounted Royal and headed toward the hitching post in front. Tying the black stallion's bridle to the rail, I entered and turned right into Nigel's office without knocking.

"Whew, not here," I breathed, making my way toward the cabinets with Nigel's records. The roan was kept in the stall with the number 12 painted on the gate, so it should only take a few moments to find the file and find the owner's name.

I was about to reach for it when the door opened and the assistant stableman said, "Can I help you with something, milady?"

"Oh, you gave me a fright!" I replied, telling the truth. "No, I was just waiting for Nigel. I didn't see him in the stable when I went through." Some of the truth, anyway.

"He's not here right now, but should be back in an hour or so, but he doesn't like people in his office."

"Oh," I said as if surprised. "I'm a, ah, personal friend, and I really don't think he'd mind if I had a seat and waited, do you?"

I smiled at him, cocking my head a little suggestively, and he grinned.

"Hmm, he probably wouldn't mind in that case, though I should probably stay with you, milady."

"No, you don't need to do that. I'm sure you have a lot of work to do and I wouldn't want you to get in trouble on my account."

"It's really no trouble at all, milady. Have a seat and I'll sit over here."

Perhaps I was wrong but I felt as if the man would have stayed until Nigel's return, so I figured I needed to do something to put him at ease. "I'm Catherine. What's your name?"

"I'm Bert, Master Nigel's assistant."

"It's very nice to meet you, Bert. Have you been with Nigel long?"

"No, milady, just since he purchased the stable here. I used to work for Master Laurence, the former owner. When he became sick and could work no more, Master Laurence's son, who didn't care for horses like his father and me, agreed to sell to Master Nigel."

"He didn't like horses?" I said in surprise. "Then I'm glad he sold, since neither he nor the horses would have been happy if he'd taken over for his father."

I thought of the time, the seconds ticking by and Nigel returning shortly to prevent me from accomplishing my mission. With as much as I had on my mind, I didn't really want to do it, but this was very important to me so I was forced into making a choice. I rose from my chair to look at a rather poorly executed painting of what was probably, in real life, a very nice horse.

"What about you, Bert? I know you like horses from what you've said, but what else? Are you married or do you have a lady friend?"

"No, milady."

I turned and looked closely at him, giving a little frown and a shake of my head as I stepped in front of him. Taking his hands, I indicated for him to stand in front of me and I gave him a good look from top to bottom and back up again as if evaluating him like I would with a horse.

He was about my height and appeared well built, with blue-gray eyes and blond hair, making a decent starting point if he were to get rid of the short, scruffy beard, wash his hair, and take a bath. I ran my hand over the tangle on his face and even touched his lip, making him reveal nice teeth that might make a girl smile back if he would but show them.

"Bert, do you have a girl in mind?"

"Yes, milady, but she never pays me any mind."

"Do you know why? Has she ever told you?"

"No, milady. She doesn't like me and won't speak with me."

"Have you ever spoken to a woman about what they want?"

"Only old Maive. She's a harl—"

Realizing what he was admitting, he shut up in a flash and looked away.

"Listen to me, Bert. I don't know if it will attract your girl, but I have some suggestions that might help." Stepping closer and almost whispering, I asked, "Do you want me to tell you?"

Nervous, he bit the side of his lower lip and nodded. "Please, mum."

"Bert, how often do you shave?" I asked as I rubbed my thumb across his short beard. "And what about washing your hair—"

I ran my fingers lightly over his hair, thinking it would be quite nice if made more orderly and wasn't so greasy.

"—and bathing?" My hands ran down his arms and then across his chest, making his breathing labored.

"Seriously, Bert, did you know that women often prefer their men to be clean and not smell bad? If you shave, wash, and bathe, a girl is much more likely to smile back at you if you first smile at her."

My hands had continued touching him as I spoke and now came the moment of truth, when I trailed a hand down across his crotch and felt his stirring cock in his trousers.

"If you get past that smile, you need to talk to her and listen to what she's saying to you so you get to know her and learn what common interests and desires you might have."

I don't know if Bert realized it, but my exploration was now focused on just one area, and I continued to rub him, feeling his rod get harder and harder until it threatened to burst out the top of his pants. He may not have even been hearing what I was saying by that point, but I continued talking, giving gentle, heartfelt advice as I stroked him, hoping that he was getting something out of my talk as well as out of my actions.

A single large button held the waistband of his trousers, so I used my left hand to pop it while my right stroked him still. Reaching into his pants, I grasped him—he gasped—and I started a firm and steady stroke with one hand while holding the pants up with my other, pressed against his stomach to hold him back a bit as much as to steady myself.

I'm not sure if Bert even noticed when I quit speaking and just concentrated on pumping him, firmer and faster until his chest shook, breath faltering, and I felt his cock throb as if expanding one last time just before his seed flooded his trousers. Of course, some of it got on my hand, but I pumped him a few more times as he gave a few more pulses.

Withdrawing my hand, I wiped it on his shirt, and said, "Now you remember what I said and hopefully your young lady will come around to give you a chance. If not, talk to another girl and don't give up or get down on yourself. Oh, but for now, you'd better go clean yourself up before Nigel gets back."

If he'd been nervous before, the poor man was practically dying now so he nodded and practically sprinted out of the office. Turning, I quickly washed my hands in the basin of water Nigel's washstand, dried them on the towel, and then turned to open his file cabinet.

It only took a few seconds to find the file for stall twelve. When I opened it and saw the name of the owner, I was so surprised I read it twice more before putting it back and closing the drawer.

I opened the door and stepped out only to see Bert approaching. "Milady, thank you for the advice and, ah, everything. Master Nigel should be back any time."

"Yes, Bert, thank you, but I just remembered something so I need to go. Perhaps I'll stop by to see Nigel again soon, but let's keep this as our little secret for now, since that would ruin the surprise when I do come back, agreed?"

He readily agreed and helped me mount Royal before I was on the way. I glanced back to see him still waving and smiling as I rode out of sight.

***

Aunt Eliza and I had spoken a number of times since my arrival but this was our first really private, one-on-one, heart-to-heart talk. When I was ushered into her private chamber, she rose to hug and kiss me.

"Catherine, dear, John and I appreciate all you've done for our daughter, and we've prepared a special gift for you." She waved to two easels that stood in the corner, each with a frame covered by a drape. "When the portraitist came to paint Susannah's wedding photo, we had him do these as well. They are yours."

Removing the drape of the first, I gasped, seeing my mother on the canvas. I cried and Aunt Eliza wrapped her arms around me. "It's from my copy of one of the original portraits that were lost in the fire that took your manor a few years ago, but I think the artist did a very nice job capturing her image. I want you to take it to Humden to hang in your father's manor so you can better remember her."

I clasped the locket hanging between my breasts and drew it to my lips, kissing it. She was older in the tiny image in the locket, so seeing her so young and as beautiful as ever thrilled me.

The other was of my parents and me when I was young, probably no more than four. I vaguely recalled the interminable time sitting for this one even with the artist using a pre-prepared background and only having to paint our heads. As a result, I suspected that I appeared somewhat larger than I actually had been at the time but it still brought a smile to my face as it reminded me of how things had been when I was young.

"Oh, Aunt Eliza, thank you! Father and I will be so happy to have these hanging in our hall once more. Thank you!"

"You're quite welcome, dear. I'm glad you like them and will be glad to get reproductions of some of the others in our halls if you wish. For now though, we need to talk."

With my mother's passing, Aunt Eliza had long been interested in making sure that I was on the correct path to "an appropriate and successful union," particularly during the time of Father's great malaise. She'd been happy when he emerged from it, speaking with him on more than one occasion about the need to marry me off, so I was fairly sure that was where this 'talk' was headed.

Sure enough, she started, "My dear niece, you're now twenty-one with your next birthday in just under two months. Not meaning to pressure you, but it's time you became serious about finding a proper match."

"Aunt Eliza, thank you. That's actually something I wished to talk to you about."

"Oh, really?" she said, happily surprised. "I saw you dancing with Wilfred's brother—"

"No, not him," I said, cutting her off more firmly than I intended. "I have met someone that interests me—"

I wasn't sure but she seemed almost relieved when I expressed no interest in Stephen but her face looked thrilled when I admitted to having met someone else.

"—but I'm concerned about it being considered 'proper' and what it might do to my father's legacy."

The poor woman's facial expression was changing by the second as I sparked hopes and then dashed them for her. However, it came to a head when I mentioned Rob's real name.

She looked shocked, clapping her fingers over her mouth and falling back against the back of her chair.

It took her several seconds to regain her composure and ask, "Catherine, tell me, do you really care for this man?"

"Yes, Aunt Eliza, I do, but I'm not sure how much. I need to know him better, much better, of course, but I think there's a real chance that we could have something special if circumstances allowed. I know they don't though, so—"

"Catherine, please wait. I need to tell you something..."

***

I reeled from the discussion with Aunt Eliza and spent the rest of the afternoon wondering what might be and pondering my options. Hilary arrived, full of glee as now seemed to be her practically perpetual state, and helped me dress for the last dinner with Uncle John, Aunt Eliza, and the few remaining guests that would be departing on the morrow.

Mostly silent through the dinner, I listened to the discussion, now turned to politics and complaints about the government since the wedding was past. One of the guests, an important merchant out of Manchester, railed about the recent passage of the Weights and Measures Act by Parliament and how it would affect his business. Uncle John agreed to take a closer look when he returned to London for the next session, but that and most of the rest meant little to me considering my current situation. I finally whispered my apologies to Aunt Eliza and asked to be excused.

"Go, dear," she said with a smile. "Get some rest for your journey home tomorrow."

I thanked her for her kindness, and excused myself by wishing the others a safe trip home. "Goodnight, Aunt Eliza," I said, kissing her cheek, and then turned to Uncle John to do the same. However, with him, I also slid a small piece of paper into his hand. He didn't look at it at the time but nodded and gave me a kiss like Eliza had.

***

An hour later, I tapped on the door to Uncle John's study and he called for me to enter.

My uncle looked at me with great uncertainty as I explained what I wanted but finally acquiesced when I promised that I was certain and knew what I was doing.

"I'll never be able to live it down to your father, your aunt, or my daughter if you are mistaken and anything happens to you."

"I'm quite certain, Uncle John. Trust me, please."

"Oh, I do, niece. It's everyone else that I don't trust."

In the end, I convinced him and he gave me what I sought.

***

Hilary was back in my room to help me dress for bed but, unlike her practically gleeful state just hours earlier, now looked quite nervous as I entered.

"Yes, dear, I told you that it's your choice and you don't need to ask me anymore," I said with a smile.

"I know but I'm used to asking. Thank you, Cat."

"Hillie, who am I to stand in the way of love?" I added with a chuckle. "Just remember what I said, for whatever advice from such an inexperienced young woman is worth."

She grinned this time. "Oh, Cat, I'll be sure to take your advice to heart. As for inexperienced, I suspect we've both learned a lot since we left home."

"I'm sure we have, but we both have much more to learn. Now, shoo! Go and learn it. I'll finish up here."

We kissed cheeks and she slid out the door like lightning. I closed and locked it behind her and crawled into bed, thinking, as Hilary had said, of all that had happened and all we had learned since we left home just over a week before.

In that time, I'd done things undreamed of, in fact, quite unknown to me, before our departure, but I was glad for each lesson learned and, most of all, for the experience with romance that I'd long hoped for but somehow doubted would ever arrive.

***

Chapter 11: Day 7—Heading Home

Hilary was back early the following morning and was extraordinarily quiet, but we were in a hurry to be off so I didn't press her, knowing that she'd spill whatever was on her mind as we made our way home. A bit worried though, I gave her a hug and whispered, "I love you, Hilary," in her ear.

She squeezed me back and gave me a smile before saying, "Go. I'll finish up here," sending me downstairs for one last breakfast with Uncle John and Aunt Eliza before our departure for home.

They wished me well with my journey home, and Aunt Eliza went further with her smile and wink, thinking, I believe, about my romantic life. Now that Susannah was married, she seemed, based on our conversation of the afternoon before, to have turned her sights on mothering me even more in my late mother's place.

Aunt Eliza had also instructed the servants to bring my things downstairs so they were ready after breakfast when Renald pulled up in the carriage. Our baggage was quickly put aboard, including the reproduction portraits that they had commissioned for me and which were now properly crated for the journey. Having the portrait of my mother and one of our family hanging in our hall again would be greatly welcomed by me and, I suspected, by my father.

I shared a final round of hugs and kisses with Aunt Eliza and Uncle John, thanking them again for the portraits and the wonderful time, before Hilary and I entered the coach, waving to them and blowing kisses as we departed.

"This was fun but it's good to be going home," said Hilary as we made our way away from Wottfordshire.

"For another wedding, perhaps?"

She blushed but was grinning wide. Whispering so our carriage driver wouldn't overhear, she gushed, "Yes! He asked me last night if we could do it sooner rather than later. I agreed, subject to your blessing, of course."

"I told you already, Hillie, you have it. I'm so happy for you both and hope to be invited to the wedding."

"Oh, Cat, I hope you'll be in our wedding, right at my side as my maiden of honor. Please?"

"Definitely, dear. And thank you for asking me."

"Speaking of asking: do you think, maybe, I could ride up top with him?"

I smiled and nodded. "That's a great idea, as long as he keeps his eyes on the road and you keep your hands off each other."

She was nodding, short, happy nods, as she grinned. "There'll be time for that when we get home."

I waved a finger at her. "Careful, dear. Remember, no little Renalds or Hilarys until after the wedding, right?"

"Do you think a week from Saturday would be good?"

Barely able to control my grin as I reached for the chord to signal Renald to stop, I nodded and said, "I think that would be just fine."

Moments later, we were stopped and Renald opened the door to our carriage to help his love down and then up to the driver's seat with him.

***

Being alone in the carriage, I kept the window open to listen to the clopping of the horses' hooves and the turning of the wheels and to be able to watch the countryside as the miles passed by. Unlike newer coaches like Uncle John and Aunt Eliza's, our old vehicle only had a single window in each door and it only had leather weather shades rather than the more modern glass like theirs. This made it more difficult to see out of so I sat forward on the edge of my seat to be able to watch the countryside go by.

A few miles outside of Wottfordshire, the pretty little farms that had been so common close to town were further and further apart until they were practically no more. We were then in the relative wilds, where one might go for a mile or more in any direction without encountering another person. The sun was shining and the wildflowers along the side of the road made me smile.

As we continued, trees, scattered here and there in the wilds, became more common and then ubiquitous as we approached and then entered Wottford Forest.