Onboard the Daisy, Page 2

By Leslie Schmidt

With her awakening, we talked. I questioned her about her life on my estate and her labors. She seemed reluctant to talk of her coworkers or the conditions of her employment other than to express gratitude for my family's indulgence of an orphaned girl who could have just as well been turned out onto the streets of the local village. We talked of her life before coming into my care and, again, she described a somewhat bleak time of work on a sheep farm, her mother's preoccupation with her spiritual salvation denying her the companionship of her peers on neighboring farms. Her mother had died of a fever around the harvest time last year and that had left her to make a home for her widowed pa.

This brought to light certain facts which I had, in the back of my mind, suspected, that being that she was somewhat acquainted previously with the characters of a man's sex. Although she was subtle in her intimation, and seemed to fear that the revelation would lesson my desire for her, the story can be surmised by certain off hand comments, occasional slips of information, that I can now piece together. Not all this information was received on this occasion, but over a time of two weeks during which we spent many private hours.

Her father had taken to attending the tavern in the village on occasion and would return without the full control of his faculties. Once, he returned with a lass who also occasioned the establishment (from her description, I suspect her the same girl who had bedded me not two weeks earlier) and Rachel, fining sleep, had witnessed their frolicking. Not long after, her father had also apparently requested and instructed Rachel in the relief of his masculine desires, this done in her bed, he laying on his back and her kneeling next to him. Apparently, at these times, neither of them had fully disrobed and he never attempted to provide to her a return of the service which he, gently, requested. Rachel came to both anticipate these times, wanting to please her father, and feel saddened because, for days afterward, her would be somewhat distant.

As the low'ring sun made the shadows of trees on the opposite bank fall over us, my darling Rachel remembered her obligation to the mistress of the kitchens and bade me farewell, walking as a wood sprite to the stepping stones, carrying her shoes, to the other shore where I, with great disappointment, watched her don her garments. Then, with the liveliness which I have come to love beyond distraction, she blew me a kiss and, giggling, ran off through the wood, leaving me to ponder the events of the afternoon and come to realize that I had been hooked, more securely than any trout which I may desire.

That evening, she stood at the doorway to the kitchen as I took my dinner. Oh, how I wished I could have invited her to sit with me! Upon finishing the meal of mutton chops and boiled potatoes, I asked the servant to insure that I was supplied with brandy in my study. To this she assented and, going ahead of me, was filling a glass from the decanter as I entered, lighting a cigar from the mantel in the parlor. My young lover came to me, cherishing the crystal stem in her hands, and presented me with my aperitif with a slight curtsy and large eyes. I took the glass and thanked her, holding her gaze longer than is usual, and bade her to bring my lap desk and quill as I sat. Then, once settled, I continued with a tedious letter to my aunt. Rachel asked her leisure to return to the kitchen but, insuring that there was no one around to hear, I called her near. "Rachel, I have found myself captivated," I whispered. "For these hours, I have thought naught but to have dwelled on you. In you I am entrap'd! Ye hath turned me, I have spent the last several years avoiding love, but you have broken me!" Her face showed an expression of confusion and alarm. "I must have your love, your continence or I am nothing!"

"Sir!" she responded. "I am your servant, me pa was a sheep farmer on your estate! I am too modest a person to give justice to your station."

"My station be damned!" I raised my voice, her face shewed alarm. "What is my station if I can't love on one as wondrous as you? If ye father was but a sheep farmer, he be the god of all such! I love you! I care naught for sheep or station!"

Rachel stood in shock, our eyes locked. "If you choose, I beg ye, tonight, make your way to my chambers. I promise, this night, ye are my heart." We were silent for over a minute as I considered these impromptu expressions which seemed to come from reaches of my soul I did not know. I watched as these thoughts ran through her mind and a certain softening of expression o'took her. "Do not use a candle, as this will alarm the others, but come, please! I ask, I beg, not as your Master, but as a man who awaits your interest. Come, Come! When the clock beats out the eleventh hour, if ye be not at my door, I will be a broken man!"

"My lord," she spoke in a hushed voice, "I am a kitchen worker, I am naught to you, plainly, ye can't love me?"

"Ah," I locked her in my gaze, grasping her collar, "you are the most captivating creature in God's creation. My heart has found new meaning in your pleasure. My estate is naught to my passion for you. You must come, or I be more retched than can be imagined! The master is the slave, my very soul stands on your disgression. Come to me tonight! Or my passion for all that is lovely will wane from my life!"

At this, the child was silent, a considering expression on her face. I pulled her to me and kissed her, feeling her soften, feeling her remembrance of the afternoon's passions. "As the quarter moon reached the heights, I will come, my lord." Then, tearing herself from my grasp, she ran from the room.

It was with great agitation that I suffered the hours of that eve. In the looking glass I considered the face which had been there for the past score and two years. I yelled to my manservant for a warm basin of water and a razor and cleaned that face. Then I ordered my bed linens changed and the lamp filled with fresh and scented spermaceti. Then, in a rage of anticipation, I ordered them all out of my rooms, naught to return until the cock crowed. A fresh decanter of water and claret sat near as I attempted, unsuccessfully, to pay proper attention to a book. Then, when the chimes of Winchester sounded out the half hour after ten o'clock, I lowered the light and waited in the dark, observing the quarter moon skirting puffy clouds which continued to march from the south on a breeze that lifted the curtains with a warm breath.

I was watching the King of the Roman pantheon being brushed by the branches of a large elm when there came a small rapping at my door. I near tore the door from its portal, the act startling Rachel. She stood, wearing only a shift, her hair free around her shoulders. I grasped her hand and pulled her in, crossing mine own with the finger of my other hand, then gently closed the door. Then she was in my arms, our mouths merged, our tongues in fierce sword play. I felt her body against mine, small but firm, her arms traced up my back. After an interval which provided me with a glimpse of rapture, I pushed her away, then pulled my shirt over my head. Then we were again in each others arms but, now, I explored down her back to feel the firm round place. I slowly gathered the fabric of her shift up, till my fingertips brushed the soft skin. With this, my own male body came up betwixt us, pressing against her stomach through the fabric of our coverings. I pushed her back, then lifted the shift free of her, taking her in with the grays, blacks, and silvers which the moon would provide. Next I stepped out of mine own garment and then sat her on the settee which faced the window. In the dim light of the waxing moon she appeared a goddess of the night, lay before me, her arms at her sides, her hips on the edge of the seat, her legs slightly parted, that most perfect slotted aperture disappearing in the darkness between her thighs.

I knelt at her feet and slowly parted her knees, opening those parts for me. With my tongue, I traced the rise of her sex, then moved along her cleft, pushing deeper to pass over the firm button and taste her soft, mild womanly scents. With this, a sigh escaped her, almost a moan as she put her hands on my head, fingers tracing through my hair. As her desires grew, so I increased my efforts, pushing my tongue inside her woman's place. Her hands were roughly massaging my scalp when she was overcome, a low cry escaping her as she lifted feet free and pulled my hair.

Now I straightened up and moved in to brush my unsheathed bulb along that furrow, parting the lips and pressing in. With a sharp intake of breath she asked I not hurt her, but take her gradually. I could not bring upon myself any desire which would hurt this child, so I moved slowly, carefully moving inside her. But, alas, the friction was too great for her not to feel a discomfort and I was soon to despair of my desires when I realized the solution. Taking some of the fine whale oil from the lamp, I dribbled some down her and she giggled with the feeling. Then, oh wonders, I slid into her. I felt the small give and she gasped as her maidenhead gave up its defense of her virginity, then half my shaft, a full four inches, sank into this child become woman. With that, I started a slow rhythmic thrusting, moving myself in and out of her as her raised her hips to meet me, her thighs against my ribs, her feet in the air behind me. For a time she crossed her feet behind my back, holding me to her, and lifted up, kissing my neck. She leaned forward, pushing me back until I landed, prone on the floor with her in the dominant position, kneeling astride mine own hips. She rocked, impaling herself on me, sometimes covering my face with her kisses, sometimes lifting up and looking at me, her face obscured in the shadow of her mane which fell over my face, neck and chest. When, in ecstasy, she threw her head back I glimpsed the veins of her neck tracing a fair line down her throat. With an animal call her body was shaken, her Venus passage becoming as a fist grasping me. At the same moment, my essence filled her, flowing deeply into her child-womb and filling those cavities of love.

She lay atop me, panting as a thoroughbred after a race, then gently kissing me again. As we lay, our perspiration a sheen in the moonlight, the breeze became cool against us and I carried her to my bed where, under the covers, we wrapped our bodies around each other and fell to sleep.

I awoke to the sound of my chamber door being opened as Wayne entered. "Beg your pardon, Lord, it be past eight o'clock and ye..." he stopped mid sentence when he saw the red hair mixed with mine own chestnut, the small freckled face, still relaxed with sleep in the crook of my neck.

"Excuse me, sir. I did not know...., by your leave sir." He turned toward the door.

"Wayne," I called. He stopped, not turning around. "I know I can depend on your disgression."

He turned, "Of course, sir," he said, looking into Rachel's eyes, who had now stirred with a shock. "But, I cannot be certain of the other house staff."

"Of course, Wayne. I hope you can come up with some sort of excuse to explain her absence from the kitchen this morning."

"I will think of something," he replied with a small smile. "With your permission, I will return in five minutes to escort her to her quarters."

"Thank you, Wayne."

Then he addressed my young lover, "Rachel," he searched the room with his eyes for her clothes, only finding the white shift on the floor, "I suggest you wrap yourself in a blanket, I will tell the others I found you sleeping in the attic and that I had observed you sleepwalking the past evening."

"Thank you, sir," she said.

With that, Wayne departed and, after some giggles and more kisses, Rachel left my bed to dress and await my butler.

During the day, the weather changed. With a great booming and flashes of lightning, the wind backed to the north and a great rain poured down to fill the land with water. Soon, the fields were running with water between the rows of corn and potatoes, the wheat, still green, was beaten down, cows stood uncomfortably in the wet. During the day, the temperature dropped and, by evening, fires had been lit in the fireplaces and the maids had pulled blankets off the shelves in wardrobes. Most of us were obliged to change from cotton to wool shirts and pants. By late in the evening, the cool dampness had crept through the house, making all seem clammy. I climbed into my bed that night, damning the damp bedclothes and hoping that my small lover would join me to help warm the covers, despite the condition that I had not particularly invited her.

I was awakened when I felt her light form slipping next to me, her arms reaching across my back and around my neck, her feet cold against my legs. I rolled over to face her and, without a word, our mouths met and our bodies melted together. Soon we had worked our nightclothing off of us and our combined heat made for a warm environ. It was very dark, the lamp being extinguished, so our only communication was by feel, small laughs and giggles, muffled sighs and groans. At one point, she bent down and took me in her mouth but I pulled her away before I was spent. For a time we lay as spoons, my member hard against her behind and lower back as I caressed her small nipples and probed her cleft. Then I pushed her onto her stomach and climbed behind her. Lying on top of her, I first pushed my staff between her and the bed, her having spread her legs, now her knees beside mine. I pulled back and my lover reached under herself and guided me to the gates.

Oh, the marvelous feeling as I slid into her, she pushing her behind up against me to meet my gentle thrusts. With one hand, I caressed her sex, feeling myself sliding in and out of her as I paid special attention to the exquisitely sensitive part of the female anatomy, my other arm was between her chest and the bed, lifting some of my weight from her tiny frame. She lay, her gasps meeting my thrusts, pushing back harder against me as both our passions grew. With a loud groan from her and a sharp gasp escaping from me, I filled her, feeling her perspiration spreading as her body shook.

As we relaxed in the aftermath, me laying beside her, she still on her stomach, she said, "Oh, sir, ye are incredible."

"I find you the most astonishing creature," I responded.

We kept a warm night under the blankets as the unaccountably cool July rain fell, waking in the dim morning, Rachel running off to meet her responsibilities. Rachel joined me in my bed every night for the next fortnight, until my father arrived from his travels in Scotland.

The situation came to a crux only two days after the old man's arrival. While Rachel and I redoubled our efforts to be discreet, and my rooms are on a different floor from my father's suite, word of our liaison reached his ears quickly, as I knew it must eventually do. I was still surprised at how quickly I was confronted.

I was called into the library where the old man usually spends his mid-mornings attending to the correspondence. As I entered, I expected to be questioned on some matter dealing with the administration of the farm, a subject which he scrutinizes closely but rarely finds more than trivial fault with. Instead, he standing at the mantel, myself just having closed the door, I knew from his countenance that the interview would be awkward.

"John," he paused for effect, "I have heard rumors that you are involved in some dalliance with a member of the household staff."

With rising anxiety I responded, "Yes sir." There was no point in denying it.

"You know that that will not due. It is beneath your station and will degrade the discipline of the staff if you do that."

I remained silent.

"Further, should there be any issue from this, it could threaten the orderly inheritance." Again he paused for effect and thought. "I have no qualms with your capering about London with your friends, that is a young man's prerogative, however, the domestics are out of bounds!"

I could see that he was working himself up, a thing that he, unfortunately, has a talent for. This has occasionally caused him some embarrassment in the House of Lords but can be a useful trait in other circumstance. I still remained silent. Now, however, I came to the realization that he did not know the unique nature of the relationship.

"You are to break off this relationship immediately, John. And to insure this, I intend to interview your paramour and warn her that, should this continue, she will have to find other accommodation."

This concerned my greatly. I had assumed, at first, that I could just leave for a summer vacation until I could, without my father's knowledge, call for Rachel to join my small staff in London, but now that father was going to become acquainted with the details....

"Oh sir," I said, "That will not be necessary..." I started.

"Nonsense! If you can't be trusted to avoid such entrapments the responsibility falls to me!" he almost yelled as he rang for Wayne. In a way, it was almost amusing to watch him.

"Wayne," he said as my old friend appeared at the door (he must have been listening in the hall), "I wish to see a member of the staff, I believe her name is Rachel."

"Very well, sir," Wayne said as he backed out of the room. He gave me a most peculiar look, a mixture of pity and amusement.

We stood in silence until I heard the sound of small feet running down the hall from the direction of the kitchen. There came a light tapping at the door.

"Come in!" my father positively roared, spinning from the mantel to face the door.

Rachel slowly opened the door and stepped through. She went white when she saw me, then remembered herself and curtsied, "You called for me, my lord?"

My father was positively apoplectic, his mouth was working but just some strangling noised came. He looked from her to me (I met his eye) then back to Rachel.

I saw control overcome his momentary rage and his face calmed. Then, in a quiet, almost friendly voice, a voice appropriate for addressing a child he said, "My dear, your name is Rachel?"

"Yes sir."

"And, my dear, is there anyone else on the staff who goes by the same name?"

"Not that I know, sir."

My father straightened and, after another long pause during which the click-click-clicking of the clock could be heard, he said, "That is very well, my dear. You may return to your duties."

As she closed the door, Rachel had a heartbreaking look on her face, a tear was running down her cheek. The door latched and we heard her footsteps quickly departing down the hall.

Without looking up, my father started, "In all my years, I have never...." We stood in silence for another minute. "You will never see that child again, do you understand?"

I awaited my fate, "Yes sir."

More silence, then he moved to his desk, sat down and started furiously writing. "I am sending you to take charge of my estates in Bombay, you will leave this afternoon." More writing. "If you cannot behave in a civilized manner, I will insure you are not among the civilized people."

A cold chill clamped around me, "Father!..." He looked at me, "Be glad I don't send you to the savage frontier of America, my boy."

He continued writing. "I will draw up the appropriate papers, you must go pack." With this I was dismissed. As I opened the door, he said, "And John, you will not see her again."

"Yes sir." I walked out and up the stairs. That was the last I have seen of my father, and I suspect it was the last I will ever see of him.

And so, my dearest friend, that is the tail of my disgrace, if you should describe it as such. For me, however, it is not a disgrace to have fallen in love, regardless of the station and, in this unique case, the age of the interest. It was a sad trip from Derby down to the London docks and I waited only two days, a time in which I was busy acquiring items I would need for the trip and upon my arrival and making certain arrangements with my bankers to insure that my personal inheritance from my Grandmother would be at my disposal with no complications. I acquired the appropriate letters of credit for banks in India and the required letters of introduction to personages there who I will have to count upon.

Then, just before my sailing, I received a note from Wayne, my old friend and confidant on the household staff, informing me that, as my father had expected, the hullabaloo had caused certain strains among the staff, a circumstance which Rachel, at her tender age, was not equipped to handle and that he, upon his own initiative, had sent her to the dairy to work. He related that she was heartbroken and glum but he expected that, with the increased freedom which that situation would provide her, she would recover and, in a few years time, settle into the comfortable life of a tenant farmer's wife. Frankly, my friend, the idea made my blood run cold. Rachel's vivacity and zest will never allow her to be happy in such a mundane life. It is her excitement and forthrightness which has captivated me. She will never willing submit to a life which requires her to remain in a dull grinding routine. It is just this character in her which has captivated me, not withstanding her other considerable charms which far surpass, for me, every other member of the female sex.

Now, my dearest friend, now that I have acquainted you with my circumstance, I must ask, I positively beg, that you enter into a conspiracy with me. With this letter I am enclosing two more. I ask you to seek out my love and set her on a course which will follow mine so she, if she chooses, may join me.

The first is a letter of introduction which will allow you to draw on such funds which are required to provide Rachel with transport and outfit for Bombay. Request an interview with Mr. B________ and C________ & Son and you will find him most obliging. The second letter is to my most darling Rachel, begging her to join me. You will have to read this to her, as she doesn't know letters. Finally, should you need direction in this endeavor, you may rely on my friend and servant Wayne at my father's house, however, it would be best if you availed yourself of his services as a last resort.

My friend, I have laid upon you a heavy burden. The charms and fortunes of love do make a twisting path through our world and I have asked you to kindly work to bring mine and my lovers to a junction. I await you word.

--John

* * *

London, December 4, 1773

John,

I am sending this short correspondence via fast packet to Alexandria, then across the Sinai to the Arabian Sea, in the hope that it will meet you upon your arrival in Bombay.

I am overjoyed to acquaint you with the success of our conspiracy as I just waved off your lovely Rachel as her ship made off down the Thames with this morning's tide. I must say, she is a most precocious and captivating child and I can full understand your passion for her.

I met her in a field where she was attending to a mother cow and her half grown calf, she looking curiously at me as I alighted from my coach and approached her. I introduce myself and when I told her that I brought news from you, she flushed white, immediately struggling to suppress a torrent of tears. I told her I had your letter and asked if she would want me to read it, to which she nervously assented.

I had not finished the first paragraph before she fell to her knees, weeping and upon finishing she, without looking at me, ran toward my coach like deer escaping the wolf. Before entering, leaving me to gape after her, she called back, "Please Sir, make haste!"

"But child," I said as I approached her (she was already inside, looking out the doorway), "what of your possessions?"

"My things be damned!" she yelled. I was in fear she would strike me. "May I never see this place again. It is not suited for Hell!" I could see by her determined expression and stance that there would be no dissuading her, so I simply signaled the driver and we were off.

She is traveling on the Crimson Knight, a full ship of three masts, for Calcut, via the Cape of Good Hope, Mombassa, and Bombay. She is under the protection of a Miss G______ who is traveling Calcut to take the position of tutor on some estate there. I have asked that she begin Rachel's education on the trip.

My friend, I hope that this news will be well met and I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors in that far place. I also wish you the greatest happiness with your darling Rachel. I can truly see that, in spite of her youth, she is an excellent match for you and, in two or three years time when you can legally marry, please send me word of the date as I have always wanted to see India.

--Andrew

For comments/suggestions: lschmidt@boardermail.com