The Cordless Diaries

Luncheon – 2

I am sitting in the Queens Hotel dining room where Felicity Daker and I are waiting upon our luncheon. We have both ordered stewed cheese and the lamb to follow, since we felt in need of fortification after our peregrinations this morning. Beautiful though Bath is, the heat and the throng and the beggars take their toll. Felicity has gone, as she put it, ‘to piss.’

‘Why, oh why do we use euphemisms? Piss is a perfectly respectable word. Shakespeare used it all the time.’ My mother always says she has gone to powder her nose.

My mind, as I sit, is on Flick. You, my beloved readers, may well, by now, have gathered that I am not like most other women. I do not find myself attracted to marriage, motherhood or men. Until Mary joined me in my bed I had never considered my needs beyond their occasional satisfaction in the seclusion of my own bed. Indeed, Mary first came to my bed when we were travelling together and I felt sorry for her having to sleep in the Inn’s flea-infested servants’ quarters on one overnight stop on our way to London. Hungerford is our name for our activities for it is there they began. I remain virgo intacta. Mary, who shows more sense of responsibility than I, said she would not enter me lest she ruin my prospects of marriage. Whilst this did not matter to me it seemed extremely important to her and, despite the occasional longing to feel the intrusion of her into my body, she is deft with finger and tongue and I am never less than satisfied, nor, I hope, is she. She solemnly made me a promise the next morning.

‘I am below and you are above Miss. I may love you and you me but we both know that our,’ here she hesitated, ‘friendship cannot go beyond the privacy of your rooms. I will never harm your reputation.’ Love making can give the deception of love. I knew Mary was right, of course, but at that moment I wanted to scream at all convention, cast off inheritance and go and live with her in some hovel. Mary told me not to be silly.

‘We are close friends, Miss, when circumstance allows. Let us not harm ourselves with unrealistic imaginings.’ She, a servant girl, yet far wiser than I, knew whereof she spoke. Her loyalty and affection humbled me. She, I now realised, understood my desire, for that is what it is, for Felicity. The question was, did I?

So, here I sit and wonder. How can I tell her how I feel? Would she slap my face, run away, scream, call for the constabulary? Would she hate me? Should I remain silent and allow our friendship to remain unsullied by my perversion, for that is surely what it is. Imagine Parson Wellbeloved’s opinion; imagine Mother’s. Why, at that moment, do I not consider that Father would be anything but understanding? I think because I can never imagine his wanting anything but my happiness.

Felicity returns to our table, touches my hand and I catch the scent of Pear’s soap. As she arrives, so too does our stewed cheese and a bustling waitress who serves, fusses, makes a show of straightening our cutlery, then leaves. For a few moments we sit silently contemplating our food.

Suddenly Flick looks me in the eye, direct and proud. ‘I want to make love to you.’
I enjoyed luncheon.

‘I was afraid you might be shocked.’

Henry trotted easily along the road, hauling us and a few packages comfortably. Was I shocked? I had, it is true, grown accustomed to Felicity’s directness but to make such a statement was breathtaking.

Before I could answer she continued, ‘I could see no point in concealing my feelings. I believe you share them and it seems I was right.’

I smiled at her. One of the benefits of a horse like Henry is that you do not need constantly to attend to him. ‘Of course I was shocked. Nobody has ever said words like that to me. Indeed, had anyone done so I should certainly have slapped his face. But, you are right. I do share your feelings.’ Suddenly a great sense of unhappiness overwhelmed me without forewarning. I burst into tears. Flick placed an arm around my shoulders and pulled me to her.

‘Whatever is the matter, my dear?’

I could not speak for a few minutes but when my composure was regained I said, ‘How?’
‘How? How what pray? You do not know how women make love?’

That made me laugh and, perhaps incautiously I told her about Hungerford. Part way though my account I hesitated but she assured me she was not censorious and I continued to the end. Then I explained myself. ‘It is how we will be able to be together. You are married. I am a single woman of three and twenty, of no independent means and the daughter of a knight. How?’ I repeated the last word and felt a sense of bleak despair. She bade me stop the carriage and, after looking carefully around, she took my face in her hands and kissed me. This was a kiss like no other. At first her lips barely touched mine but their pressure increased and then I began to feel her tongue gently pressing against my closed lips. My mouth opened and her tongue entered me. There was no time, no world, nothing for me at that point, only that kiss. Of course Mary and I had kissed but this, this was another world, another universe. Reluctantly we parted. She touched my face. ‘We will find our "how".’

It was six of the clock when we arrived at her home. I went in with her and helped her carry her parcels into the entrance hall. She moved to embrace me but I pulled away and saw a look of hurt in her eyes. ‘Your maid.’

She smiled. ‘She will have gone home, I told her that I should not need her this evening and her mother is still unwell and needs her more.’ I relaxed into her arms and we kissed again. The kiss lasted longer. Her hands caressed my face and my hair and I felt as if it was all something completely new. Gently she eased away from me. ‘You must go now. The evening is growing dark and you and Henry have two miles to go. Come and see me tomorrow and we will talk and we shall find a way, our how.’

I arrived at the Hall as the evening was growing dim. As I unhitched Henry and let him loose into the paddock with Caroline father and the gamekeeper hove into view, Scamp, as ever, snuffling around at breakneck speed. Father came to me and hugged me. ‘Horrocks and I are just going to check the stock, Emm.’ I could see the neck of the brandy bottle in Father’s game bag. ‘Did you have a good day?’
‘Marvellous, thank you.'

‘Excellent. Come along, Horrocks, let’s check on that badger set, what?’

He winked at me and they strolled off into the gathering twilight. I gathered my packages and walked into the house. Mother was bustling about in the hall as I entered. She stopped and looked at me, somewhat askance. ‘Where is your hat? And where did you get that ribbon?’ No, ‘good evening’ from Mother.

‘Good evening Mother. Yes, thank you, Mrs Daker and I had a lovely day. Mr Jolly asked to be remembered to you.’ I walked off and ascended to my room. Humming contentedly I set down my parcels, untied the yellow ribbon and wrapped it around the stand of my dressing table mirror. I started to undress. Mary knocked and I bade her enter. We exchanged a warm smile and she came to help me. Standing behind me she unlaced my corset and, regarding my face in the mirror, she said, ‘She is very pretty Miss.’ We smiled again and it was then that I could see the deep and generous understanding in that wise young face.

‘You can throw that damned corset away, Mary. I shall not be needing it again.’

‘Yes, Miss,’ and she bobbed a curtsy and left, her face smiling in a generous acceptance of the change.