Rogeringham

I asked Charlotte and Hermione if they would supervise the guest list and the sending out of invitations, I told them if they needed a courier to use Henry. Margaret and Louise would be in charge of decorating the ballroom and hallways, and I told them that they could recruit whoever they needed from the stables and gardeners. I asked Caroline to create a menu for a grand buffet.

"What is it you wish me to do, William?" Helena asked.

"Supervise, mother. I would like you to offer guidance and suggestions as the girls put this together, but I would like this to be their crafting."

"And what is your function in all of this brother?" Charlotte laughed.

"Mine?" I asked, "Why, I shall be paying for all of this." I laughed.

The questions continued for a while - how many invitations? How much could they spend? Is there anyone that they should not invite? Thankfully, it seemed, the tasks I had set, had been acceptable and by the evening's close I thought that the pathway ahead was clear and each person was comfortable with their role.

"I am curious." My mother asked me later that night, as she lay upon my chest. We had just spent the best part of the last hour making passionate love and now we lay temporarily sated. "Why did you assign all of the tasks to the girls?"

I toyed with her nipple as I framed my answer, watching it swell so that it stood proud from the curve of her white breast, a coral-coloured stud of eager sensitivity.

"It is time that we see - that they see - what they are capable of," I said. "It is about confidence. A person who is confident in their own ability may do anything they set their mind to. I believe that each of these particular tasks is well within their ability but next time we shall change them about and give them different things to accomplish."

"Next time?" Helena looked up, with her hair framing her face she looked stunning and I was moved to lean forwards and kiss her.

One kiss became a second and then a third. Then a kiss became an embrace, and those embraces and kisses became more passionate, until after a while, we breathlessly separated and lay still again.

I returned to Helena's question.

"The ball will serve several functions," I explained. "It is not simply about the girls practising their skills, which is vital for them as women who will hold important places in society, but it is also announcing to the world in general that they exist. So, I want it to be grand and impressive, to get the attention of potential suitors. Once we return to London, or possibly before, perhaps at the turn of the year, we will hold another. We will get as wide a range of suitors as we can, so that each of my sisters can pick and choose as she wishes."

Helena looked at me for a moment, "You have obviously given this much thought."

"Last week when I was meeting with the Barthomley boy, I realised that one of the reasons he is courting Hermione is her connection to the dukedom." I laughed, "I don't think he reckoned on Hermione though. Charlotte tells me that she has him well under control.

"I have no issue with connections," I went on, "They're the way our society works." If the first Duke of Norton's daughter had not caught the eye of Charles II - and he had not used the connection to lend the king a great deal of money, which eventually secured him the dukedom - we would still be simple rural folk. But Elizabeth Rogeringham was nothing more than a pawn in Duke Henry's plans. He pushed her into the king's path, and after she had secured him his dukedom, he married her off to a vicar in Norfolk. "I do not see the lives of my sisters as mere connections for others to use. They all have their own desires from life. Even were they to say that they wanted to marry a shepherd boy, as long as it was the match that they truly desired, I would shift heaven and earth to make it happen."

Helena looked at me, "And here I was, thinking that I was getting what I wanted."

I nodded. "Growing up in the midst of a gaggle of women, I heard so many of their hopes and aspirations."

"And you listened?"

"Yes. You put them under my protection on the day I wore my first pair of breeches," I was seven, "Of course I listened!"

Helena kissed me passionately. "And that is one reason why I am so in love with you." She paused, "Your Grace."

I kissed her back, and soon my mother had climbed up on to my hips and was rocking back and to on my hardness.

She leaned forwards, filling my vision with her marvellous bubbies, I suckled on them eagerly, cramming each teat into my mouth and sloppily licking them. Helena shuddered at the sensation, thrusting herself backwards onto my cock, and forcing it up inside her as her spend came down. She jerked and bounced with its shocks, her lips now seeking my chest as she pressed herself to me.

Up until now, my sport with my mother had generally been respectful and loving. Well - as respectful as finally consummating years of repressed passion can be. But seeing her before me, beautiful and yet wanton looking, caused my passion to swell greater and greater. I could see that she felt it too, as I rose up and laid her back on the bed.

Taking her thighs in my hands, I lifted them up so that her feet rested upon my shoulder. She had had a minor spend and was still groggy from it, so she looked at me confused for a moment, until I lifted her hips and plunged deep inside her.

"Oh William! Oh!" She moaned. "So deep! And - Aaahh! - so hard!"

There are moments in a man's life when the savage inside us comes close to the surface. Rational thought steps aside and brutish lust takes its place. I have known this feeling in battle - a red mist that descends on a man, though being an officer, it is a feeling that must be mastered. But now, with Helena before me, her legs upon my shoulders and her sweet cunny full of my hard prick, I felt the brute in me rising again.

Faster and faster, I thrust, stronger and more deeply. Helena sprawled upon the bed before me, gasping, making half-words that turned into spewed obscenities that fell from her sweet loving lips. "Fuck! Aaaaah! Shit! Yes, fuck me William, fill me!"

I did my best to fill her, to shove my cock deep, up inside her, while she strove to close herself on me, tightening her grip on my thrusting prick.

Her legs fell from my shoulders and I pulled her up into an enveloping hug.

"Oh God! Oh God! Ohhhh, Willeeeeeeeeeeeeam!"

This last was a cry that turned into a scream, as she clung to me as if I was the last solid thing in her world, as I shot up into my mother's womb, and we collapsed onto the bed.

"I think I might have woken the servants," Helena said, with a wry smile.

"I think so too," I told her, laughing. "Barclay will take care of that."

"Your man knows about us?" She looked worried.

"Possibly. Probably. I should imagine it is a racing certainty, but even if he doesn't know precisely what is going on, he will make sure that my privacy is maintained. Don't worry my love," I said, "He is discretion itself."

Helena looked relieved, but decided it was probably best that she return to her own room.

As my mother left, I smiled as I heard her quietly say, "Goodnight, Mr Barclay."

And his equally quiet "Goodnight Your Grace, sleep well."

Moments later I heard his distinctive knock-knock, pause, knock-knock.

"Come!" I called.

"Is there anything Your Grace requires?"

I pulled my dressing gown on.

Initially I said, "No, thank you, Barclay." but as he turned in the doorway to go, I said "Wait!"

"Would you join me in a tot?" I asked, indicating the rum, which sat on a side table.

I indicated that he should sit down and I poured us both a measure. I moved the small table next to our two chairs.

"Your health, Your Grace." He said as I sat down opposite him.

"And yours, sir!" I toasted him.

"So, Joshua?" I very rarely use Barclay's first name, mainly because his name is also his title, he is Barclay and his forename is effectively irrelevant, but tonight it seemed appropriate. "We have come a long way together, from the hills and forests of the West Indies, to the walls and lanes of the Peninsular to the mastery of a great estate. What do you think of the new billet?" I waved my glass to encompass Rogeringham Hall.

"We've had worse, Your Grace," he said with a smile. "Much worse."

"And are you comfortable, Joshua? Are your quarters suitable?"

"I am, and they are, thank you, Your Grace."

"Good!" I offered him a top up. He declined.

"How have you progressed with your 'discovery'?" Wellesley employed 'discoverers' in the Peninsular, intelligent men on fast horses, who sought out information on the enemy, often at great risk. Barclay was acting as my discoverer.

"Not much more than I told Her Grace, sir. The man is not well liked and overly tyrannical, but nothing especially concerning." I nodded. I had come to this conclusion myself.

"However, there was one thing, Your Grace." Barclay paused. "I was with Mr Dives this morning in the wine cellar ..."

"How are you getting on with him?"

"Very well, Your Grace. Mr Dives is a most professional man, sir." I allow Barclay to call me 'sir', rather than Your Grace, because of his position - he is one of the few people in the world, who is not family, that has this privilege. "He understands my role, and I, his. We are both very certain on that."

I nodded, "The wine cellar?"

"I was thinking to find space for some casks of spirits - your rum, sir, and just to get a feel for what was available. So, we went with Mr Roberts, the cellarman to start looking through the stock. Some of it ... Well, some of it seems to have been changed, Your Grace."

I nodded for him to go on.

"In one example, there were supposed to be forty-eight bottles of a fifteen-year-old Madeira. There were four dozen bottles of Madeira, sir, but they did not appear to have been there for more than a couple of months, let alone a year or even fifteen."

"Interesting. Were there any more examples?"

"A subject close to your heart Your Grace. Five cases of thirty-year-old port. There are five cases, certainly, but not from the producer that Mr Roberts's cellar-book says they were from."

"What did Mr Dives say?"

"He was most concerned, Your Grace, he could not understand what had happened or when it had happened."

"What do you think?"

"I would say that the changes were recent ... the last couple of months."

"While Mr. Dives has been in London?"

Barclay nodded. "Mr Roberts has no accounting of the changes."

"Thank you, Joshua, that is most interesting. I shall not need you again tonight. Goodnight."

"Goodnight Your Grace."

12. Helena decides

I had expected to have a leisurely start when I woke the next day, but a loud knocking on my door interrupted that.

At my summons, Helena entered my bedroom, looking disgruntled.

"Damn you, William!" She said as she sat down upon my bed.

"Good morning mother, my love, how are you?" I asked.

"Grumpy!" was the return, though there was the hint of a smile behind her frown. "Yet again another night where I find myself awake all night because of something you have said."

"And that was?" I stroked her hand where it lay upon my bed.

"Stop that!" She said, and pulled her hand away. "We need to talk."

"Certainly mother," I climbed out of bed and went over to sit by the fire. "What is it you wish to talk about?"

Helena joined me by the fire, she sat next to me as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do. "It is about what you said about your sisters."

"And?"

"You are right." She said, which pleased me. "I spent the night after I left you, re-living that first night with your father, over and over and over. The anxiety, the fear and - yes, damn you - the pain."

"You are right, of course you are, my daughters should not have to go through that, no woman should." She looked at me, "You have shown me how good love-making can be, and I cannot help but wish that my younger self had had that experience. So, after wrestling with my conscience all night - yes, if the girls wish it, you may - er - 'teach' them."

"Do you wish to be present, mother?" I asked.

"Me?!" She looked shocked. "Why would I want to be there?"

"Well, for a start," I told her, "I am still very much in love with you, and want to be with you at every chance that I can. But apart from that, I can only do so much. You have lived the experience, and can offer advice, share what happened to you, in a way that I cannot. You can offer hints and tips in a way that I cannot."

"So, I would be present, conversing with my daughter while you deflower her?" There was a hint of ironic humour behind the disbelief.

"If you wish. It is not an unheard-of idea." I told her, as her eyebrows shot up. "I am aware of at least one woman who was there when her daughter became a woman. She encouraged her daughter, urged her on - I believe."

'I believe'? I know she did, she was urging me on at the same time, in fact. It was Elizabeth, Lady Dorrington to whom I have already referred, and the young lady was her daughter Arabella. Once the business of Arabella's virginity was done, and Lady Elizabeth had me to her house again another evening, that time she had slid her robe de chambre off and climbed in with us. That was an incredible night, and the memory of it stirred things.

"Perhaps," I said as I embraced Helena, "We could do it another way. Perhaps the three of us could dine together, and talk, and then you could leave me and my sister. I do not wish to make any of this awkward for you, for me, for anyone." I leaned in and kissed my mother. I pulled her close to me, in part because I wanted her - there and then - but also because I would be able to tell from the way she reacted, how she viewed my proposal.

Helena laughed. "To have your cake and eat it too. You rogue!" But it was a light-hearted scolding. Helena pressed herself to me and returned my kiss eagerly. She could feel my erection beneath her, and her hand sought it out.

"Should we go somewhere more comfortable, and discuss this?" I asked between kisses. Lifting her as I stood up.

"Or we could just go to your bed ..."

"And?"

"Fuck." She whispered as I laid her upon the bed.

"You are making good progress on your profanities mother." I told her as I lifted her gown, exposing her mound and its lovely dark furred cap.

"Kiss me there William. Please? Kiss my cunny."

"For you, mummy?"

"Please?" She pleaded, "For mummy?"

I kissed her on the mouth. "Of course, mother." Then I bent down, dove between her thighs and began to feast on her lubricious quim. Jabbing my tongue up inside her, taking her plump lips between my teeth and tugging gently on them before swirling my tongue around and around her engorged clitoris.

Helena writhed in pleasure on my bed, grabbing at my head and pressing me tighter, until I felt my face washed in a spurt of her juices.

Her spend was my signal and I threw off my night shirt and knelt between her thighs naked and with my hard cock in front of her.

"For mummy?" She asked, her eyes shining in anticipation.

"For you mummy." I confirmed with a growl.

"Fuck me then," she said as she welcomed me with open arms and her thighs wide, and I plunged down onto her and slid up inside her.

"Oooh William!" She gasped, "Yes! Fuck me, fuck mummy hard."

I pumped away. My lust for my mother was amplified by the memories of Elizabeth and Arabella Dorrington and the sensations that they had combined to work upon me. Helena's hands clutched at me, her finger nails raking my back. As my body stiffened and my own spend came down, she pulled me tightly to her and we kissed, passionately open-mouthed as I came inside her.

"You have made me a new woman," Helena said quietly, as we lay still afterwards.

"I never knew such pleasures could exist," she said as she rolled to her side and lay with her head on my shoulder, her hand lying upon my chest. "It has changed me; it has changed my life. I would be a poor mother if I did not allow my daughters to know such a world existed."

"If they want the knowledge," I corrected her.

"I believe they probably will," she told me, her voice soft and full of love. "I like the idea of your intimate supper, and while I am not certain yet about being present, I will admit to not being totally opposed to it."

I kissed the top of Helena's head, and we both lay still for a few minutes before the rising tide of noise from a busy house reminded us that there were things that would require our attention and we would need to wash and dress.

"Before you go, may I tell you again how much I love you, mother?" I asked her.

Helena looked at me, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "You may." She said, "And I shall give you frequent and plentiful opportunities to do so in the future. In fact, I shall require it, if I am to share you with other women. I'll have you know that I am a very jealous woman."

At that point she laughed. "I wasn't jealous before, you know William? Then you took me to bed and showed me your new world. Damn you, you wonderful charming rogue."

The smile I wore when my mother left lasted all day.

That smile was made broader when I found that the chestnut mare had been brought to Rogeringham. Despite her long journey she was moving much more easily, and a rest in the country would have her fit as a fiddle by the spring.

13. Preparations continue and an interesting situation emerges ...

The next few days at Rogeringham Hall were full of activity. My sisters set about their tasks with enthusiasm. The ball was set for a Friday in two weeks. Charlotte and Hermione spent two days writing out invitations, marking each one off a list that they had all compiled. Henry set off on horseback to hand-deliver the notes to local dignitaries, while Hopley drove Charlotte and Hermione all about Buckinghamshire in the brougham, delivering certain hand-picked ones.

Margaret and Louise had, as instructed, dragooned members of the estate staff into their service and turned part of the stables into a workshop. At one point I saw a pair of lads carrying saplings in. But when I went to look, I found my way barred by the twins.

All of my amused raging about being the Duke of Norton, and 'lord of Rogeringham Hall' went unheard as Margaret and Louise steadfastly held their ground and prevented me from spoiling their surprise.

In contrast, Caroline actually did ask for my assistance.

Her approach to the menu was typical of her thoughtful manner. She consulted, she spoke with Mrs Ellis, the cook and Mr Dives, to discover the options she had available, rather than picking items out of the air. She reasoned that with the Christmas season and the time available this was a more sensible way forward. But then having heard the available options, Caroline pushed and shaped some of them to put her own mark on the affair.

Caroline asked for my advice on the wines to use, so I called for Mr Dives and Mr Roberts, and the four of us went on a small expedition. After my conversation with Barclay the other evening, it was also useful for me to have a look at the cellars and the apparent substitutions.

My father had built his collection upon an already excellent wine cellar that he inherited from the 4^th duke, his father, and it took up several parts of the extensive cellars at Rogeringham Hall. We were looking for a presentable selection, in sufficient quantity for the numbers expected. There were some interesting casks of French red, and some of white that I thought might be good, and we shared some of the wine between us and talked through what was good about it. The decision however, was up to Caroline, who after a few moments thought, made her selection and asked the cellarman to bottle sufficient of each one, enough for the guest list.