Indiscretions

 

It was a dark and stormy night .  On the overland stage from York to London, the  deluge was so great that our stagemaster had decided to stop at a Postal Inn, as proceeding further in the rut-riddled mucky roads would be to risk a broken axle. So I, and my travelling companions, a Viscount and his Countess, disembarked for a night of refuge.  I did think it a bit odd that this couple were not travelling in private coach, not befitting their peerage, as I am sure they had several. But, there can be reason for everything as I would find out.  On this night where even the worst of Hades had sought refuge from the torrent outside, the Inn Alehouse was empty except for me .  My travel companions had elected to retire directly to quarters but I stayed to have a bit of beef and several quaffs of hearty Claret before heading upstairs to chambers.

In the room next to mine I could hear delicate giggles, sounds of obvious mirth.  I could not resist, and, even though not an action of any breeding, I put eye to keyhole.  What delicious pleasures lie therein.  The Lady was lounged on the bed, her travelling cape draped beneath her. She reclined, and I gazed upon her form downward.  Her dress was gathered up in her arms and my eye was drawn to her silk stocking being drawn down her shapely leg, revealing an alabaster sculpt worthy of the best artesian hands of Greece.  I was entranced.  The Viscount pulled down the silk until it barely grasped the end of her toes. I was ecstatic as I saw the remnant slip off the last toe, leaving her bare foot in his hand.  Oh, Joy !  He bent to kiss it and fondle her toes as she gave a delighted little cry.  I jerked in enraptured anticipation, and the old timber floorboard protested too loudly for the storm to conceal.  Before I could regain my position, their door jerked open with the latch catching me squarely in my eye.  With arms gaining purchase, I regained my footing, swiftly and awkwardly stumbling for my life into my own quarter, slamming and latching the door.  The expected knocking, pounding or  loud exclamations never came, and after a long period with ear to the door, I withdrew and tried to sleep through my unfortunate night.

Now, a new morning, I awoke with dread.  What confrontation awaited me for my indiscretions?  After prolonging my morning toilette, where I could see my newly bruised and purpled eye, I tried to think through any route to absolution to avoid a long journey looking into the flesh-burning stares of the Viscount, or an even worse fate.  Well, it had to proceed one way or another, so I unlatched my door and cautiously peered out. No one there. Then, I noticed a small silk bag strung on my chamber latch tongue. I extracted it quickly and withdrew again to my sequester. I opened the bag. Inside were 4 Guinea’s and a folded vellum.  The short note stated the bounty was my ransom for silence about the previous night’s episode.  Relief and wonderment.  Why would my silence be of value when they were the wronged party?  I expected a righteous indignation of monumental stature would have been my confrontation. Perhaps I did not understand the price of stature to landed gentry.  But I did not explore the issue, rather deciding to use part of my bounty to stay on for a few days, thus avoiding the awkward journey sitting across from the couple. 

Days later I resumed my journey and found that the stagemaster was the very same that had been our guide that fateful night.  To whet my curiosity, or perhaps reach some close to my guilt, I enquired as to how The Viscount and Countess had fared on their journey into London.  The Driver gave a chortle and smiled,  “That wasn’t the Countess with the Viscount,” he related,  “That was one of the Countesse’s handmaidens accompanying him to attend to the Countess at their London townhouse.”  I didn’t ask after them any further, fearing the stagemaster’s smile might be indication of his privy to the relationship, and I was already in deeper than I wanted.  But it sure gave credence to the old saying that travel broadens one’s outlook.  And it makes for the great story I‘m here telling to you, Yes?  And since you’re buying, how’s about another round, eh mate?