Eroticon 2 Read online

  His face, beneath his great black cocked hat, which filled with gloom that entire portion of the stage in which he sat, like some gigantic bird of melancholy prey, was lined and seemed, as if carved in putty by some overzealous Canova, and his deep-sunk eyes remained fixed on my face and person as if held there by a lodestone. So ugly, in truth, was this august personage, that my new protector, the Honourable Mr MacTavish, appeared actually young and handsome in comparison.

  Mr MacTavish was all too evidently impressed by the honour of riding with so obvious a Personage of Importance. Albeit I was considerably taken up by the evident interest which the eminent stranger took in my person (which he made no effort at all to hide), I could not but be aware of the starts and fidgets of my new protector as that worthy conjured up conversational opening gambits, only to decide that each in turn was not a proper ploy and remain silent, his mouth opening and closing like that of a goldfish swimming idly in its bowl.

  Not until we were more than an hour beyond Charing Cross did Mr MacTavish find his gambit and seize upon it. Our coach had just travelled over a pot-hole which caused it to tip so severely that we were all but hurled into one another's laps, all save the elegant stranger, whose cane, firmly planted on the floor of the stage, held him firm as Gibraltar itself against the human tide that assailed his flanks.

  In overt admiration, my protector then addressed himself directly to l'eminence noir, remarking, 'I'll wager ye'r no descendant of King Canute, sirrah, for, mighty monarch that he was, with all his powers he was unable to halt th'advance of the waters.'

  Save for a single eyebrow, which rose mayhap a half-finger, the elegant stranger in black gave no response - at which, believing him deaf, my protector repeated his words, shouting at the top of his lungs.

  The stranger flinched ever so slightly. He removed one smoothly gloved hand to the ear nearest the MacTavish and patted it lightly, as if to be certain the appendage remained yet in place and attached to his head.

  Then, employing an utterly world-weary drawl and pronouncing his syllables as if he were addressing a child, the eminent one spake to me and remarked, 'If ye'r companion is addressing himself to me, I'll thank ye to translate his words - for surely, with all those rolls of his rrr's, he employs some barbarous patois which I, alas, find myself utterly unable to comprehend. '

  I had noted my new protector's heavy Scottish burr, but had lacked either the wit or courage to call him on it as this stranger did. At which The MacTavish grew so incensed that he roared it a third time, in the voice of a Caledonian lion, if indeed such a creature exists.

  The elegant eyebrow went up again, the wearied lips pursed slightly, and the gentleman in black uttered a single syllable directed at me... 'Please!'

  So I repeated it more gently for him, at which he afforded me a tiny smile of such confidential import (as if, indeed, we shared a secret from which the rest of the world was locked out) that his ugliness quite vanished beneath the assurance and glow of his personality.

  Then at last he replied, in the most exquisitely insolent drawl imaginable, 'Tis well for you that no wager exists, for ye'd have lost, my dear fellow. I'm a descendant of the late King Canute on the side of my great-great grandmother, thirty-three times removed, and have in my house a small bucket of that very sand which was wet by the tide that refused to obey his royal command. Should ye care to call and view it, ye'll find it still damp.'

  'Had I wagered, I'd hae won, sirrah,' cried my protector, now beside himself with fury. 'Damp or not, ye'll have difficulty proving the sand was not culled from the sands of the Thames only last week.'

  'If ye please, my dear, will you again translate?' the gentleman in black inquired of me, and of course I complied, enjoying my rude protector's exposure for the man of ill parts he most assuredly was (may his soul rest in Presbyterian peace, where'er it lies!).

  When I had finished, he smiled at me again in confidence, and replied, 'Tell the good fellow then, sweet lady, that he'll have just as de'il a time proving th'opposite. Hah!'

  With this, the elegant gentleman in black, disregarding the MacTavish's apoplectic sounds of stuttering fury no more than t'were the lullaby of a nursing mother, composed his chin upon his knuckles once again and, after one slow wink at me, closed both his eyes and, to all appearances, fell fast asleep, in which condition he remained despite the rude jolting of the stage until our halt for dinner at St. Alban's, whereat he disappeared into a private room, while my discomfited protector could not bring himself to spend more upon our fare than was afforded by the ordinary.

  At this, once again, I was reminded of the parsimony for which the Scottish folk are all too well renowned, and began to fret myself anew about th'uncertainties of my present estate. Furthermore, I wondered how a man to whom even a farthing appeared so dear had discovered the courage necessary to play for high stakes at Whyte's.

  As yet, the problem appeared unanswerable, and I could but lament inwardly over the cruel twist of fortune that had served to place me, helpless, in his niggardly claws.

  My hopes that he might prove a protector of weak or lagging appetite vanished as I watched him dismember the joint placed before us, and gobble it so rudely that I was forced to feed upon scraps left swimming in the grease and gravy.

  Nor did he forego the pleasures of the bottle (since all drink, like all food consumed along the way was included in our passage). Yet this latter proved, in truth a blessing, for so deeply did he indulge that he soon fell asleep and snored loudly upon my shoulder virtually all the way to Luton, at which town, bone-weary, we alighted for supper and to pass the night.

  It was here that a most curious happening occurred, one which has since proved all-important in its influence upon my present fortunes and estate.

  My protector and I retired to a private room (it appeared that, for once, the greater parsimony of displaying me, his most expensive purchase, in the ordinary after dark or sleeping with other passengers and paying guests in one of the common bedrooms, overcame the lesser parsimony of paying extra for more secluded lodgings), where I steeled myself to endure the inevitable and, again in accord with my wise training for a young woman like myself to put the best face possible upon it.

  Yet my apprehensions were to prove groundless, for even while we dozed and jolted in the stage en route to my northern exile, a kindly Providence, assisted by a more earthly agency, was moving in my behalf. At first alighting and retiring to our chamber, we were both so bone-weary and travel-fatigued that our only thoughts were of easing our aching flesh and bones and of removing the dust and stains of our journey (at least myself, for the MacTavish shewed neither desire nor inclination toward cleanliness).

  A scullery girl fetched me two pails of steaming hot water (for which my protector, grumbling at such extravagance, forced me to pay myself out of mine own small store of silver), in which, with the aid of a cloth and soap, I was able to wash after a fashion. Ye may be sure I took care not to remove any essential articles of clothing lest, despite his groans of aching weariness; I should arouse his lust prematurely.

  The tavern food proving unsuited to his palate (and, it must be confessed, to mine own as well), the MacTavish fell to demolishing the contents of the hamper with which Miss Kitty had provided me to such hearty avail that soon all that remained were a few oddments of bone and gristle, and mayhap, a few fingers in one of the two bottles of tawny port.

  At this point, my protector felt quite well disposed toward me (and why not?), offering me praises for having come so well provided with sustenance, and belching his appreciation. He laid hands upon me as if to buss me in fatherly fashion (yet the manner in which his hands strayed to the roundness of my breasts and buttocks and lingered there gave me cause to doubt that his affections were wholly paternal in aim or origin), vowing that ne'er had mortal man been blessed with such a bonny mistress.

  At this point, there came a knocking at the door of the room, and with a curse at such untimeliness, my protector reluctantly moved to
answer it.

  A manservant stood there, bearing a tray on which stood a cobwebbed bottle of fine old scotch whiskey, and a note. The manservant stood there, awaiting an answer, while The MacTavish scanned it and remarked, ''Tis indeed an unco display of courtesy on the part of your master. Pray gie him my thanks and appreciation.'

  Impassively, the manservant replied, 'Mr Selwyn requested me to inform you, sir, that upon my return to his quarters, he will toast your health from the contents of a like bottle and wishes you to do the same for him.'

  'Tell him his wish is fulfilled,' said my protector. 'You might add that I feel in no way discountenanced, upon learning his identity, at having been bested in verbal intercourse today by a gentleman of such renowned wit.'

  When the manservant had gone, The MacTavish, all aglow at having received such a tribute (to say nothing of free whiskey), pulled out the cork and poured a stout measure into one of the wineglasses, lifted it to its donor and downed it straightaway.

  'Wurragh! 'Tis powerful stuff!' he gasped, shuddering throughout his entire great frame as it went down. His eyes turned on me, bright red from the effusion of blood brought on by the force of his reaction, and he opened his ugly mouth to speak whereat to me.

  Yet, once again, he was speechless, as on the coach that morning. For his face went slack, his eyes rolled upward, and he fell prone upon the carpet with a horrid sound and a shaking of the building itself.

  I was hard-put to it to know what to do, but before I could cry out for help, the manservant had reopened the door and, putting a finger to his lips, enjoined me to silence. Nodding in satisfaction at sight of my unconscious protector, he removed the bottle of whiskey and the glass from which the MacTavish had drank and, placing them under one arm, offered me the other.

  'My master awaits ye, ma'am,' he said with great courtesy. 'Permit me to shew ye to him.'

  I hesitated, fearing dire consequences from the unexpected action I had so recently witnessed, and said, 'What have ye done to him?' Is he dead?'

  'Only till morning, ma'am,' replied the manservant. 'And when he awakens, I'll warrant his head and stomach contain far too many woes for him to think of anything else for another twenty-four hours.'

  Still I hesitated, but not for long. After all, my present situation was hardly one to my liking, and almost any change in protectors was bound to be for the better. So I said, 'My things! I cannot leave them behind. Nor can I well hope to return to my gentleman after this. He'd think me guilty of complicity and have my hide.'

  'Ye'r things I'll see to myself at once,' he promised. Then, eyeing me, 'As to ye'r beautiful hide, I'm certain my master will treat it with proper affection and tenderness.'

  'You are insolent,' I told him, smiling, for his good humour was infectious.

  'Ain't it in truth a terrible thing?' he countered with feigned remorse. Nor was I surprised to learn that his name was Patrick.

  The chamber to which Patrick took me was - need I say it? - far more roomy and sumptuously furnished than that which the penny-pinching MacTavish had hired for the night. It was well carpeted and held a large four-poster bed and a number of tables and chairs, as well as an elegant commode disguised as a low-boy. In the most comfortable of the armchairs sat my vis-a-vis of the stage still fully attired in his elegant black travelling clothes, at his elbow on a large tray the remains of a comfortable repast.

  Eyeing me with the closest attention, he smiled and said, 'I trust a change of companions does not meet with ye'r disapproval, my dear. I must say that ye'r a most uncommon fine young woman, mightily ill-matched indeed with that barbarous Scotsman ye wore on ye'r elbow.'

  Albeit I am well and dutifully aware of the fact that girlish ways sit ill with the deportment of a mature young lady, as I by now bethought myself, there was that in my new friend's manner and delivery that forbade me aught but to giggle most unbecomingly. The mere thought that I had been wearing The MacTavish on my elbow proved beyond resisting.

  Mercifully, Mr Selwyn, for such was his name, did not appear displeased by my reaction, albeit he failed to respond in kind. A sparkle in his eye informed me that he enjoyed my pleasure.

  When I could speak, I said most demurely, 'Milord, it would ill become me to show disrespect for the gentleman who gained my person fair and square.'

  'May I inquire just how this ill-favoured son of Caledonia won ye?' He inquired. 'And do not call me milord, for I am not of the peerage.'

  'Pray then, how shall I address you?' I inquired. The faint smile reappeared. 'Ye may call me Mr Selwyn,' he replied most graciously. 'And may I reiterate my question?'

  'I was informed by messenger, but two days ago, that my master lost me to The MacTavish at picquet - at Whyte's.'

  He studied me in silence before remarking, 'By Gad, ye must be Roddy Weymiss' woman! He spake mightily well of ye before he pressed his luck too far.'

  I lowered mine eyes with what I hoped was becoming modesty, and Mr Selwyn paused to inhale a pinch of snuff, which he withdrew from a most elegant chased-silver box adorned with rubies and sapphires. He uttered a snorting sound, which I at first mistook to be a sneeze, but which I realized later was his manner of laughter - for Mr Selwyn never sneezes whilst taking snuff, a reaction he holds to be most vulgar.

  In kindly tone, he said, 'The young idiot! Risking such a prize on the turn of a card!' Then, after a pause, 'Well Weymiss' loss, Selwyn's gain.' And, in a most considerate manner, 'My dear, please tell me frankly and with the utmost candour - has any warm sentiment developed between the man MacTavish and ye'rself in the course of ye'r brief acquaintanceship?'

  I replied. ''Tis most thoughtful of you to ask, Mr Selwyn, for indeed such a sentiment has indeed developed, at least as regards my feelings for Mr MacTavish.'

  'Amazing!' An expression of regret flickered over his impassive features, to be followed by one of incredulity. 'I find it hard to believe, my dear - nor do I mean to cast any doubt upon ye'r truthfulness. But with such a man in so short a time...'

  'None the less, 'tis true,' I replied. 'I developed the warmest hatred for Mr MacTavish that I have ever conceived for any human being.'

  'That, my dear,' he said, permitting himself a smile of pure relief, 'deserves a toast. Will ye join me?'

  'I'd like nothing better,' I replied, and at Mr Selwyn's bidding, Patrick fetched glasses and poured us both full measures of whiskey from a bottle that looked suspiciously similar to that which the MacTavish had drunk the gift-draught that laid him low.

  'Fear not,' said Mr Selwyn, reading my mind all too accurately. 'Better yet, let Patrick drink from ye'r glass, since he is playing a part in our little comedy.'

  'Indeed he has - a part for which I am most grateful,' I told them.

  'Ah, Patrick's important scene is yet to be performed,' said Mr Selwyn. We looked on while the burly manservant drained my tumbler and received its contents with no visible ill-effect-after which, Mr Selwyn and I drank a toast proposed by Mr Selwyn, to a hope that the MacTavish slumber long and soundly through the remainder of the night.

  We drank another toast to my comeliness soon after, in which I was happy to join, then a toast to the recent good fortune of Mr Selwyn (by which, I took it to mean his good fortune was the acquisition of mine own poor self), the while Patrick was absent from the chamber upon some business his master proposed.

  Upon his return, my new protector, (for such I rightly took him to be) said to his man, 'Patrick, are ye ready to play the game?'

  ''Twill be a pleasure sir,' replied Patrick, his dark eyes devouring me with what I felt to be unseemly lust in the presence of his master.

  Then, turning to me, Mr Selwyn said, 'I trust ye'll not be offended, but I have found it to my advantage to adopt a most wise and intelligent policy of the Empress Catherine of Russia.'

  'Indeed, Mr Selwyn...?' I spake warily, for I could feel it in the atmosphere of the room that some most unusual request was about to be made of me.

  'She maintains at her court in St. P
etersburg a most accomplished young Scottish peeress who bears the nickname of l'epreuveuse - the tester. Whenever the Empress desires a member of her bodyguard or of a visiting embassy, she first sends this woman to his bed to discover if he has the qualities requisite to the Empress' own pleasure. 'Tis said both women are of a remarkable similarity in this regard, just as Patrick and I are as like as peas in a pod.'

  'You wish me to bed with Patrick before bedding me yourself?' I asked.

  'If ye do not wish to be returned to the tender mercies of Mr MacTavish,' Mr Selwyn replied, most gently withal, yet with unmistakable intent. 'In any event, I'd see you naked before going on with the game, my dear, if only to ensure the genuineness of ye'r indubitable charms.'

  In truth, I was in no way displeased at the prospect of displaying my charms and accomplishments for the edification of so amiable and elegant a gentleman as Mr Selwyn, but I could not resist casting a sidelong glance at the manservant who was to put me to the test and said, 'If Patrick is willing...'

  My new protector, Mr Selwyn, is not a man who gives way to laughter upon slight pretext. He has since told me on many an occasion that it well behoves a gentleman who would be considered so by his peers to display any emotion at all, either in public or private. Yet, at my poor foolish remark, he put back his well-powdered hair, opened his mouth and gave vent to a series of bellows and roars that momentarily alarmed me lest he had suffered some sort of fit, until I saw the tears streaming down his cheeks.

  Nor, chère madame, could I perceive why my innocent jest should have given rise to such an extreme reaction, albeit within minutes I got the full point in more senses than one. For, having removed my clothes and posed prettily before Mr Selwyn, who ogled my dugs, my belly and my cunny as if he had ne'er before viewed their like (which, indeed, he has since claimed he never did), I turned toward Patrick, who came up beside me and discovered that the Hibernian was not only willing but ready.