Rogeringham

Completely unexpectedly, to me anyway, Hermione leaned in and kissed Barclay on the cheek. "Thank you and goodnight, Mr Barclay."

Barclay and I exchanged a passing glance. My man-servant - a man that I trusted nearly above all others - was completely unabashed as he turned away and went towards his quarters, in fact he seemed quite pleased with himself. Though there was no reason at all why he would not have dealings with my mother or my sisters, I was curious as to what had transpired between them, and coincidentally what else might have been agreed behind my back. I put that out of my mind though, for now I had other things to think about.

The bed had been turned back and a second chair had been placed against the wall nearby, so that someone could place clothes upon it. On a table near the fire, there was a bottle of champagne and some glasses, and a second tray with a decanter of wine and some appropriate glasses. Some cheese, biscuits and a small bowl of fruit, grapes and pears, had been placed beside the wine.

"It looks like all is in order," I observed, ironically.

My mother smiled, and told me to be quiet and open the champagne.

I opened the bottle and poured us each a glass.

"To my dearest little sister..." I proposed.

"To my daughter ..." Helena added.

"To you both, mama, for bringing me into the world and to you, William, for enabling me to go out into it." Hermione finished as we drank.

At which point, both women burst into tears and embraced each other fiercely. They were both speaking at the same time, apologising to each other and assuring each other that there was no reason to apologise.

It took me a moment to understand what they were saying, but Hermione was apologising to her mother for being a difficult birth, and for the way that Helena had suffered as a result. Helena was telling Hermione that what had happened was not her fault and that it did not matter and she loved her dearly. Helena was apologising for anything that she might have said that made her daughter think that she held her to blame and that she wanted Hermione to know how loved she was.

I did the only thing I could think of which was to open my arms and embrace them both, drawing them in towards me. I kissed Helena first - as is right and proper, and then kissed Hermione, who then kissed her mother. There was no reserve in any of the kisses, as the tears turned to passion. I felt my sister melt in my arms as she pressed herself against Helena, who responded equally passionately. I found that my task was to keep them upright, and prevent them from falling to the floor. I guided them both to the bed to make their fervent embrace easier to manage.

Helping them onto the bed, I paused and watched them for a moment as I loosened my clothes. It appeared that Hermione was the one leading in their amorous tangle. Her hands roamed about her mother's body, and she sought out those areas of her mother which would respond best to her touches and kisses. Helena meanwhile was kissing her daughter and enjoying the attention.

I cleared my throat to interrupt their passion. "Do you wish to remove your clothes?" I asked. "This will be far more interesting without them."

Hermione blushed, her enthusiasm for her mother's kisses had taken her over, and Helena, responding to her daughter's passion had prevented her from disrobing. They sat upon the bed and removed their clothes, handing each garment to me, which I carefully placed upon the chairs Barclay had set out.

Finally, they had both disrobed, Hermione sat upon the bed completely naked, her legs crossed and tucked under her, while Helena had retained her knee-length silk stockings, but was otherwise equally, delightfully nude. They smiled as I folded their dresses and chemises and laid them upon the chairs, before turning back to them, at which point I started to remove my own clothing. I felt like some sort of entertainer, as I stripped down for my mother and my baby sister. Indeed, they made appreciative noises as first my waistcoat came off and then my shirt. I removed my boots, and stockings, before standing again to take off my breeches.

As my hands reached for the fly buttons on my breeches, the comments and half-noises stopped as if in anticipation. Still not entirely certain that I knew what was going to happen, I paused, and turned away from them.

Helena sighed theatrically, and Hermione said, "Quickly, William, take them off!"

"Yes, take them off!" Helena chorused.

"Off! Off!" They both said, laughing, like the crowd in the cock-pit of a theatre heckling a performer.

Hesitating a moment, to increase the tension, I turned back to them and dropped my breeches to the floor.

"Oh, my Lord!" Hermione said as my hard cock came into view. "I am so envious, mama, that you have William and his marvellous prick, whenever you wish it!"

Helena dismissed her comment with wave of her hand, "Oh, you know, sometimes it gets tiresome ..."

I sputtered in surprise, only for both women to burst out laughing at my annoyance. As it was, I was welcomed onto my own bed, by their open arms. To make up for their teasing, I was fondled and caressed, and stroked and soothed and generally made to feel adored.

It seemed like we were not in any urgent hurry to fuck, and we stayed like this - kissing and touching, for some time, as we explored each other in a most sensuous manner. Hermione seemed quite taken with her mother's breasts, while I spent time kissing Helena's quim. She spent quickly, small urgent cums, that made her body jerk, and caused her boobies to jiggle, much to Hermione's amusement.

While Helena recovered, I spent time kissing Hermione, and when her mother had gathered herself, she engaged her daughter by kissing her belly, then proceeding down to her cunny. I saw Hermione's hand drop down onto Helena's head, as my sister stretched herself on the bed, and lifted her hips up to allow her mother greater access. For myself, I lifted Hermione by reaching my arms under her shoulders and drawing her upwards. I ravaged her mouth with mine and then moved to her breasts. while my mother applied herself to her daughter's quim. Supported as she was, Hermione could do nothing but writhe in our embrace.

And writhe she did - twisting and turning this way and that, as we made oral love to her. Helena and I exchanged places so that I was the one licking her exquisite cunny, and she was the one feasting on her daughter's breasts.

I felt Hermione shudder to a cum at least twice while I was holding her in my arms, tasting her spend on Helena's lips when I kissed her, when we changed places. My dear sister spent again, while I was gamahuching her, and when her spend came down, she drenched my face. So copious was she that at first, I thought that she had pissed herself, but it was immediately clear from the taste that she had merely had an excessive cum.

Helena and I rose from the bed to wipe our faces, leaving Hermione limp and murmuring softly as we did so. I brought her a glass of wine and helped her to rise up so that she could drink it. I was surprised to find that she had tears in her eyes, though she wasn't crying as such.

"I love you both, so very much," she said at last. "You and mama are everything to me."

"And you will never cease to be everything to us," I told her. "You will always be loved."

As the tear drops rolled down her cheek, Hermione thanked us.

"Bless you child," Helena told her, "We are your family and we always will be. But you must now take this love to your husband. For all of his faults, James is a good man and he loves you very much. And when you have children, show them the same love we feel for you.

"Having said that," she went on, "You should try and sleep now, or you will not be the Season's most beautiful blushing bride tomorrow!"

"Ohh!" Hermione said, plaintively, "One last fuck, mama, please? And I promise I will sleep soundly. Here. Between you and William. Please?"

Helena laughed, "I do not know why you were not the most spoiled child that ever lived. It is so difficult to refuse you."

"Lie there!" Hermione told her mother excitedly, indicating the centre of the bed. When she had positioned her mother, my sister took her place between Helena's thighs, presenting her sweet rounded bottom to me.

"Now!" She told us commandingly, "William, you shall fuck me from behind, while I kiss mama's lovely bare cunny, and this way, we shall all have a last grand cum together."

I did not mention that if she was going lick Helena's quim, then it was unlikely to be just the one spend, especially given how much Helena enjoys cunnilingus. But Hermione was in charge, she was the one directing us. And so, we fucked.

I took hold of Hermione's hips and plunged myself deep into her cunny, which brought a deep and heartfelt moan from her, which was cut off short as Helena placed her hand on her daughter's head and guided it back to what she was supposed to be doing.

Each movement of my hips thrust Hermione up against her mother's cunny. I kept the beat of my thrusts slow at first, as I sought to grind as much pleasure as possible out of my penetration, seeking to use my cock to probe all of my sister's most sensitive areas. But as my passion built, seeing my lovely youngest sister, lasciviously licking her mother's cunny. Making it Helena's turn to writhe in pleasure as she did so, and with Hermione herself writhing, I could not help but increase the tempo of my fucking.

Soon Helena had had at least two spends, grasping the bed sheets and twisting them in her passion, as she did. She allowed Hermione to have at least one quite loud orgasm, letting her raise her head to gasp out her cum, before pressing her back down. Oh, so strict Helena, I laughed.

It was as Hermione had a second spend, still with her mouth noisily applied to Helena's cunny, that the wriggling of her delicious bottom brought about my own spend. I could do nothing to stop it, it started in the pit of my stomach and bent me double over Hermione's back before I shot upright and fired stream after stream of jism deep inside my sister's cunny. My hands gripped her hips and I shot again and again.

I groaned, Helena groaned and a happy Hermione sank down on to her mother. And with that, there was nothing left for us but to kiss and embrace each other lovingly and compose ourselves for sleep.

Hermione placed herself between Helena and I, and so, entwined like that, we slept. It must have been a deep sleep, because the very next thing I knew was that Barclay was fetching my water for washing and shaving.

85. Hermione and James's wedding

Hermione became Mrs James Barthomley in St George's Church, Mayfair, at fifteen minutes past eleven o'clock on a Thursday morning.

The morning had been a hurried flurry of bathing and dressing, as all of my sisters had pitched in to help Hermione achieve bridal perfection. She was bathed, and powdered, made up and dressed. She wore one of Helena's garters for something old, and the necklace that I had commissioned for her, for something new. A jewelled comb from Charlotte, that she wore in her hair was something borrowed, and a fine blue silk ribbon that bound her hair was the 'something blue'.

No time was wasted in all of this, but even so it seemed to be cutting it fine, until at a half hour past ten o'clock my mother and my sisters were taken by the landau the short drive to the church. Twenty minutes later, Barclay checked his pocket watch and gave me a firm nod. Hermione and I climbed into the brougham and set off for the church.

It would have been understandable if my sister had been nervous, after all, she had never been married before. But I could see no trace of nerves, no feelings of regret, she went forwards as if it was her destiny, and I could see once more the strength within her.

As we sat in the coach, she looked at me and smiled and said simply, "I love you."

There was so much that we could have said, and much that, perhaps, that we should have said, but most of it had already been said, so I replied, equally as simply, "And I will always love you."

And that was the only conversation on that short trip to the church, I rode with my thoughts and she with hers. For myself, I still couldn't shake the feeling that she could have done better, but I suppose that that was me being the protective older brother. Hermione had made her decision and I could only admire the commitment that she had made to it.

I was so proud of her, as proud as any father could be, of the girl that she had grown into. Not, I hasten to add that I was seeking to claim any credit for her being the woman that she was, far from it. But I thought - I hoped - that if I was ever a father to a daughter, that she would grow to be as strong as Hermione.

James and Lady Hermione Barthomley were married in front of a full church. On the bride's side there were many Rogeringhams - Hermione's immediate family, our near aunts, uncles and cousins, and a few of our friends and my sisters' admirers. The rest of the church - James's side - was filled with assorted Barthomleys and there appeared to be dozens of them, of all shapes and sizes.

Hermione and I progressed down the aisle towards James and his groomsman. Being on my sister's right hand as we went, I saw the whole pantheon of his family members, from his mother Eugenie, standing before me, dabbing at her eyes already, yet still with an exultant smile beneath her handkerchief to what appeared to be innumerable younger Barthomley relatives all clustered into the pews.

I delivered my sister to her soon-to-be-husband and when he looked at her, the look on his face convinced me that he was genuine in his feelings for her. He might be wrapped around Hermione's fingers, as Charlotte put it, but from his delighted smile, I believe that he was more than happy to be in that precise position.

'May The Good Lord keep you and preserve you, James', I thought, 'for what you are about to receive I hope that you are well and truly thankful'.

After the wedding we repaired the short distance to Rogeringham House, for the wedding breakfast. And it was there that I was cornered by Eugenie again.

I was just in my study for something, when Mrs Barthomley knocked on the door. I called her to come in, not knowing it was her. She approached me, her bosom leading the way and she stood quite close to me, ostensibly to thank me for my efforts with the wedding.

"You should thank my mother for this, she is the one who has organised it."

"I have, Your Grace," she told me, "However I wanted to thank you personally, you have been so accommodating, especially during the contract negotiations, I am sure it could have been much ... harder." She breathed that last word, leaning forwards as she did.

"Harder, Mrs Barthomley? I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Call me Eugenie, please Your Grace." She fluttered her fan rapidly and then folding it up, she laid it gently on the breast of my coat. Mrs Barthomley was making an unabashed attempt at some sort of seduction.

"Thank you, Eugenie, but please explain what you mean?"

"Only that there were many items in the contract, which I am sure were important, Your Grace," she added hastily, "But you were able to see your way to removing so many of them. I just wanted to show my gratitude - if I may?"

"There is no need Eugenie, all I have done is for the happy couple." I told her.

Eugenie pressed closer, much closer than might be considered socially acceptable. Her hands seemed to have a mind of their own, as if they wanted to reach out and touch me and she had no control over their movements.

"You have done so much, Your Grace. You have started them out on their journey in the very best way."

I was now looking down at her bosom, down into the chasm that made up her cleavage, and just at that moment, Helena entered my office.

"Mrs Barthomley?" My mother greeted her with a cautious smile.

"Your Grace." Mrs Barthomley answered, curtseying. "Your Grace." She said as she turned to me and curtseyed, before leaving.

It might be expected in a situation like that, she would have been embarrassed as she beat her retreat, but Eugenie Barthomley walked out with her head held high.

"Was that woman doing what I suspect she was doing?" Helena asked.

"I do believe she was, mother," I replied, "Not content with getting her son married to my sister, she seemed to be trying to engineer a tryst with me."

"I did not quite believe what you and Hermione said about her," she said with an amused smile. "I do now. The shameless baggage!" We both laughed.

It may appear that I am being quite dismissive of my new brother-in-law's family, I suppose that I am. The greater part of them are hangers-on and part-players, who will not contribute to the future's story, but who will instead live their lives and loves out as best they can and just that. But Eugenie Barthomley stands out as everything I suspected she is.

Calculating, audacious and brazen, she is obviously the power behind the Barthomley throne. Just her willingness to venture outside of her marriage was a sign of what she would do to further her ends. Did I think it was because she was attracted to me? No, it is my experience of women like that, that they rarely do anything like this without an ulterior motive. The only exception to that, of which I am aware, is Elizabeth Dorrington, who was in a position that she did not have to sleep with anyone to further her own ends - Elizabeth did it because she enjoyed it.

Hermione had joined herself into Eugenie's realm, but she was walking into her new situation with her eyes open, knowing what to expect. I suppose many brides do not have that luxury, and find themselves trapped and struggling to preserve themselves against a dominating parent. My sister had a head start with her clever marriage contract, and her strong will and sharp wit; she was fore-armed and forewarned, and that pleased me greatly.

86. The Season ends - Henry and Caroline

The Season came to an end, and around The Ton, fathers (and brothers) heaved a sigh of relief that the drain upon their purses would be eased. It was no longer necessary for women to have a new gown or dress for every single occasion (well, no more than usual, anyway). The number of events and occasions dropped, and many people left the Ton for the better airs of the country.

We did, and as the summer ended, we prepared for Caroline's marriage to Henry.

Unlike Hermione, Caroline did not require a 'farewell party'. The relationship between us, and Henry, was such that it was not felt necessary. My sister went into the union with Mr Adams, with my friend Henry, with her eyes open and ready to be Lady Caroline Adams.

My gift to them was the three properties that Dodgson had appropriated. This would give them the additional rents and revenues, but also - if they chose to do so - they could dispose of some of the properties to the canal trunk, which was still going ahead, though without Sir Montague Fellowes. It would add considerably to the family's income.

The church of St Mary, Rogeringham, was packed, most of the staff attended, Henry had been popular when he had worked below stairs, and in his work managing the estate he had maintained an easy, almost affable approach. Richard Carter, acted as escort for Charlotte, and I suspected (I hoped) that I would soon be talking to them about the next wedding.

The ball that evening to mark their nuptials was also declared as marking my birthday, which was a few days afterwards. Like our Grand Winter Ball, it was attended by people from all over the county.

I met with Henry's half-brother, the new Lord Brunton, Sir Walter. Unlike his elder half-brother who has an easy affable nature, my initial impression of the younger man, was that he was a prickly character, who bristled when people so much as looked at him. Brunton's wife was pretty and vivacious, with a particularly musical laugh. She appeared to embrace my sister Caroline, almost immediately, and as I watched Sir Walter seemed to thaw and by the end of the evening, he was quite enjoying himself.