Androshorts: Lords and the Lady

I could see that Lord Charles was as equally delighted with the event and was all spread arms and seeming quite parental for someone that hadn't been that man in many years. He chatted so nicely with his audience, many that knew him as the Lord of the manor as almost all of the red-cheeked, messy-faced cherubs were children of parents that worked for him either in the house, the farm, the estate or worked farms that he rented to them.

His bonhomie continued and Lord Charles was at home to friends and family that evening and in better humour than I could ever remember him being before, even with all of his sons around him.

There rarely seemed to be happiness at Chalonier Hall, not during any of my visits there. Charles had been the eldest, most grown-up and destined to inherit the family seat; but he was old before his time, married to a girl that had seen him as an investment rather than the love of her life and because of her influence watched his three siblings like a hawk for any sign that they might have eyes on his title, which alienated his younger brother Edmund who, like many of his class, was considered to be the 'spare' to the 'heir' and raised to know exactly what his role in the world was to be and it this new distrust heaped coals on the almost dead fire of their sibling rivalry.

Their father did little to address it or stop it, I still believe that after the death of his wife Lord Charles seemed almost to relish in the animosity between his four sons and while he may not have actually helped it along he did nothing to prevent it. The two of them going to war at the same time was one of the last moments they agreed on something. Even then Edmund considered himself senior to his older brother because he'd joined the County Yeomanry two years before while his older brother joined just prior to the outbreak of war.

Academic brother Henry knew from the start that he had almost no role in the Chalonier family long term and that he should make his own way in the world, happy to be away from the destructive rivalry in a place where debate was the order of the day, not argument and where his counterparts wanted nothing from him but to pass on his knowledge.

His educational bliss was to end with the death of his Brother Edmund, which upset even his English sensibilities and with his good friend joined the Guards. His noble dreams of revenge were to end in the wholesale slaughter of the Somme battlefield shortly after his elder brother Charles.

George, the youngest and without question the most unpleasant and wholly malignant brat from the angry and mismatched foursome had no such dreams of family revenge or even a stoic belief that he should do the right thing for his country and his class. He wanted just to survive long enough to become Lord Chalonier in his own right now that the road was clear.

He was a bully, a tyrant that used his power and his upbringing to get his own way. But like all bullies when confronted with much bigger and nasty bullies, even those bullies dressed in Imperial German field grey, he turned and ran happy to shoot anyone that could get in his way - including his doppelgänger half-brother - but karma caught up with him by way of a 150mm high explosive shell and only parts of him were recovered.

But as we sat around the drawing room after a sumptuous dinner with me playing Christmas songs on the piano Lord Charles and his son George couldn't have been closer and that Christmas was the very first of the many happy ones that were to follow, with the elder Chalonier very much the centre of the entertainments in a way I could never remember seeing him undertake before. I was replaced at the piano by Marchioness Ellbury which meant I could sit next to my man again and we could kiss and embrace as I had jealously watched so many loving couples do before.

The Marchioness saw and changed the song from those Christmas favourites to 'roses are shining in Picardy' and George and I danced. It was the end of a very long and wonderful day but still, we danced, and George held me and kissed me all the way through. Our pianist changed to 'I'll be loving you always' and the entire room sang along.

Lord Chalonier was taken to his bed by the butler and two of the footmen. I also know that he was joined by the Marchioness who had become an extremely close companion since the passing of her husband ten years after the passing of his wife.

George and I were the last to leave the party, with him closing down the room to save work for the butler once he returned from sorting the master. I took my lover's hand and pulled him back to our room, keen to get him into bed and foreclose on the thing we had both been thinking and dreaming about for so long.

I retired to the dressing room, my heart fluttering ready for what I hoped was going to be one of the most romantic nights of my life, certainly, the other George had never courted me in the way that the new one did. I finished undressing, took a deep breath and stepped back into the bedroom naked.

"Katie!" said George his mouth hanging open.

I stepped up close to him and he took me in his arms, loving the feel of my naked skin against his and he kissed me, strongly but with the most wonderful tenderness and passion.

"George, I wonder..." I said kissing him back no less passionately than he had kissed me, "seeing as you're my husband, could you... would you..."

He kissed me again,

"Anything Katie," he said, "you have only to ask."

"Make love to me?" he smiled the most wonderful smile to me, "Clements has given her permission..."

"It would be an honour."

"You're sure you wouldn't rather make love to some older Duchess or something? The first George did."

"Then he must have been blind and stupid as well as being a drunken coward." He dropped to one knee, "My Darling Katherine," he said, "please allow me the honour and privilege of making love to you..."

I felt tears burst unbidden from my eyes.

"Thank you, George," I said, "thank you!"

He lifted me into his arms and carried me to the bed, laying me gently down in the middle, he was as naked as I. I saw the long still angry-looking scars along his leg up his chest and across his shoulder and arm, amazed that he could still lift me with all the recently healed damage.

He lay next to me pulling me close to him, letting our naked bodies touch intimately until finally I could stand it no more and pulled him over me.

"Please," I panted, "Please, I can't wait any longer."

He adjusted his position and within moments was pushing his large penis up and into my little used puss and I gasped. On the few occasions that the previous George had fucked me, my pussy had very little time to prepare and was virtually dry, whereas tonight I'd felt puss start to swell and dampen a couple of hours before when he'd smiled and pulled me close and sang 'let me call you sweetheart'.

"Oh my Lord, GEORGE!" I cried out feeling all of him in me. He started a slow movement in and out, kissing my flushed cheeks, "Oh George Darling!" I cried pulling him tight to me and enjoying not only the deep and wonderful thrusts he was forcing into me but the wonderful skin contact that had me gasping and crying into my first orgasm.

It then sashayed into a second and I was loving this wonderful contact and I knew that I wanted it for the rest of my life. I kissed him deeply and feeling such a rush of emotion took his head in my hands, "George, I love you!" I'd loved him since that very first night we slept in the same bed and he smiled at me, the day he admitted that he was George Daines, the day we lay together and he held my hand.

"I love you, Katie," he said slowing his fucking of me, "I've loved you since the first morning when I woke up in the hospital and you were there."

"Oh, George! Love me, be with me, be in me, let's make our lives together," then the thought, "let's make a new life together!"

"OH KATIE!" and I felt him tremble as he reached his peak, but far from the cry of triumph that his predecessor had favoured, this George pulled me tight and continued to push in and out of me until he was sure I was satisfied.

I was.

I woke the next morning to the rattle of crockery and the arrival of tea. I rolled over to see that George was awake and shaving, while I lay there naked and satisfied, pulling the counterpane up to cover my still-naked but well-loved breasts. Lucy the maid handed me my tea casting the smallest glance at my obvious nakedness, and the rattle of George in the bathroom had her quickly pouring a cup for him and departing.

He arrived moments later, his towel wrapped around his waist and I let the bedcovers fall to expose my large tits he'd loved so much and so well. He smiled and I smiled, I threw the blankets to one side to expose my body, still naked from the night before and his towel was pretty much raised by his instant erection.

He fucked me again, this time I asked him if I might try it as my friend Dorothy Stephens had so enjoyed it. I got on to my hands and knees and felt George kneel behind me.

I had never known such joy as when he slipped into my very wet puss and proceeded to give me the finest Rogering I'd ever had in my life. The night before had been love but this was different, I was still head over heels in love with my man but this was something I'd never known before, lust!

Yes, lust, it was new to me, but I knew that it and I were going to become firm friends.

We had the most wonderful Christmas day; we went to the church where prayers were spoken for those that were missing from the family table, some carols then a brisk walk back through the snow to the house, with presents being given, the biggest lunch then many of us taking to our rooms for an afternoon nap.

George and I didn't sleep at first of course; we made love yet again as I was so mightily impressed with this most tactile and passionate manifestation of the human condition.

We dressed for dinner, now both so infatuated with the other that it was all we could do to keep our hands under control. George helped me pick my clothes and he insisted that I should be comfortable and the restrictive underwear was consigned to the bottom drawer for life.

We had quite the nicest time at Chalonier Hall, and George was well and truly in character now and had become The Hon George Chalonier, albeit somewhat reborn.

On a bright, frosty morning between Christmas day and the New Year George asked that we walk to the local church, a very sweet little Norman edifice that had stood as the Chalonier chapel since the 16th Century. We walked in arm in arm, wrapped up warm and very much in love. To my surprise, there was the vicar who had led such a wonderful service on Christmas Day.

"Ah Good Morning Captain Chalonier!" he said taking George's hand and shaking it with both of his, "We're all ready for you."

I looked at him in surprise, all ready for what?

"Darling Katie," said George taking my hand and kissing it, "since my return from Belgium and indeed my return from the jaws of death, I feel like I've been reborn, refreshed; so much so that I've asked Father Bellamy here to lead us in just a small ceremony, just to renew our vows, just to celebrate my coming back to you." Even George had a break in his voice at that and Father Bellamy looked most pleased as well.

I was choking back tears and just nodded, my face split by the most beaming smile.

"Please, step this way," he said, and in three steps we were before the tiny altar and I was removing my ring and handing it to George and he slipped it in his pocket.

We went through our vows, a second time for me, both swearing to love each other 'til death do us part' and as George took my trembling hand, I noticed that it was a different ring, only noticeable really close up, and in a few moments, My George and I were married. No banns, no certificate, no breakfasts or receptions, but altogether a most wonderful experience that left my first wedding to the other George in the shade for meaning, commitment and love -- also passion, for we walked back to Chalonier Hall and headed for our bedroom where we made the most exquisite love.

And that was how it went on, George and I spent longer at Chalonier Hall and he took over the running of many of the businesses. George had been born into working stock and understood animals, he understood farming but more importantly he understood the people that actually did the work for his father, and he made intelligent decisions based on all of those gifts and rather than the elitist contempt shown by his predecessors he actually spoke nicely to the people he considered friends rather than tenants, helping them to even greater production and then profit in the time of war.

He took more of a role with Lord Charles' racing stables with his groom's eye and within three years of his takeover, the man once described by my old friend as being hung like a Derby winner actually had his first Derby winner.

I was so much in love with my husband, I felt that I could honestly call him that now, and we made love at every opportunity. And it was love, no question about it, we were crazy for each other and many people commented that despite our slow start we were so perfect for each other, so perfect in fact that when the first of the daffodils and other spring flowers were popping their heads above ground, my monthlies stopped which could mean only one thing.

Our first son John was born three days after the armistice was signed.

The war was over and I knew that my George was safe and wouldn't be dragged off to France or Belgium for more of this madness.

The Chalonier fortune went from strength to strength with my George almost entirely responsible for it. Three years later our second son George was born and eighteen months after that Caroline our daughter. Our family was perfect and a joy to all and we regularly visited both sets of grandparents to share them.

Lord Charles, the one who had been the grumpiest become the perfect Grandpa and would play with his three heirs all day tirelessly and we had an open invitation to Chalonier Hall and they loved going. All three children worshipped their father of course and were not surprised when he had the occasional day in bed when his leg threw out more tiny lumps of shrapnel and they all thought nothing of it.

The years passed and we received a telegram from Lord Charles' solicitor. George was summoned to Chalonier Hall to meet with his father, for a final time as it turned out.

The summoning was the strangest thing; after all, it was virtually our second home. We both had our suspicions because the old man had been quite thoughtful and reflective in his closing weeks and then days and I will confess that we had both practiced a response should the old man try and expose the secret we'd both lived for almost fourteen years.

Lord Charles had become rather unsteady on his feet and a bit forgetful as he reached his mid-seventies and his rather hedonistic lifestyle eventually started to catch up with him.

While I was running around the garden with my three wonderful children, George went into the large bedroom to chat with his father who knew that his time was short.

George told me what took place.

"George?" said Lord Charles reaching a thin hand out to his son's.

"Yes sir?" said George, knowing from years of experience this was how the Chaloniers had referred to their father in such momentous moments.

"I... I needed to have one last chat with you, you know, before the end."

"Yes sir," said George keeping a stiff upper lip.

"I'm so terribly proud of you George," he smiled, "You've altogether revitalised the estate, turned around the farm and the farms of all of the tenants, income is up and yet everyone loves you for it. You've made 'investments'!" he said of he really didn't really understand such radical concepts, "you made money when the stock exchanges across the world were collapsing!" That was true, fortunately for him, he had been my brother's footman and he'd taught him how the 'stock exchange worked', how we 'trade' families always had more money than the landed gentry, and he'd used that knowledge to best effect.

George smiled,

"Thank you, sir," he said, "I learnt it all from you."

"Not all of it George," said Lord Charles, "Not all of it," The old man took a deep breath, "Until the war, I was quite worried which of my sons would be best suited to running my estate and I really couldn't decide which one it would be. The Kaiser made it much easier for me of course and..." the old man struggled to catch his breath, "...and the first three brothers fell for their country I was worried because... well because YOU had seemed the least capable of the four. YOU were married to the sweetest, nicest, most beautiful of all of my daughters' in-law, yet YOU still chose to mix with the worst of society and to sleep with every appalling slapper at every appalling weekender that YOU could."

George coughed, and thought to himself 'here it comes...' and pondered his response.

"I'm sorry sir," he said, "I think my injury and recovery taught me a good lesson about what's important..."

"Poppycock!" said Lord Charles with a breathy but not angry chuckle, "You came back from Belgium a different man..." he paused again. "George," he said after a long thought, "you are George Daines aren't you?"

"Sir?" said George sitting up straight in a well-practiced 'shocked disdain' he had rehearsed in front of me for precisely this kind of moment.

"Oh for heaven's sake George," said the old man resting his hand on my husband's, "you are ten times the George Chalonier that I raised, ten times the George Chalonier that went off to France, ten times the man of any one of your brothers, and as I lay here I will at last call them your brothers, your half-brothers if you'd rather."

The old man was wracked with a coughing fit and George stood ready to summon the nurse, but the old man got his breath back and carried on encouraging his visitor to sit once more, "I've been well revenged for my terrible treatment of your mother and my abandonment of you, although your revenge has been the finest though George," the old man smiled, "instead of destroying the family name and taking what you want, treating me with the contempt I deserved, you fall in love with your wife - yes Bellamy told me about renewing your vows - and you both gave me those three wonderful things, the most precious of all of my valuables, the greatest joy in my later years, John Charles and George Henry, the finest young boys to run around this house since... well... since when my brothers and I ran around here, and then..." the old boy took a sniff and controlled his tears, "my Gorgeous Darling Princess, Caroline!" he managed to burst out, the effort making it hard for him to catch his breath, "I should have had a daughter George..." he added struggling to breath again, "Think I would have been a different father if I'd had a daughter, and my wife hadn't been taken from me so early..." The old man settled back against his heaped pillows and closed his eyes for a moment. He opened his eyes again, "Aaah my little Princess, my Caroline!" he reached across for the photograph of her in a small frame and stared at it, "the living image of her mother, and I can see she has your mother's smile, George! Your real mother that is..." his head dropped in shame, "I did so badly by you and her George and in these closing hours I'd like to endeavour to make it up to you and her and only if you allow." The elderly lord leant forward with a real hint of the anxiety he'd been feeling in the run-up to this conversation.

"George, I am SO SORRY!" he gasped, "There, never thought you'd hear a Chalonier say that did you!?" George saw that his father had tears in his eyes, "I'm sorry to you, and sorry to your mother... for my stupidity and my ignorance, my... my savagery to one of the nicest young girls in the county, for ruining her life in the way I did."