Saved by Morwenna, a kindness from her for once…


Morwenna and two of the guests stood in the door, and Kenrick broke off in mid lunge, stopped giggling, released by hand and advanced on Morwenna, who as ever, looked handsome enough to delight in her rustling silks.

Her flashing hazel  for once registered curiousit regarding the Poor Relative (oh, dear, I must watch myself closely; that sounds bitter) while Dr and Mrs Powell looked puzzled and shocked. They all greeted Kenrick, while I wiped my hand upon my handkerchief and shuddered in repulsion.

Then Lord Ynyr strode briskly in, having been delayed by some complaint from one of his tenants (he is, of course, the most scupulous of landlords).

His presence soothed me; he is so handsome; why did I not dream of him and not the unappealing Kenrick, who at the following dinner went on to talk of the grotesque legends of blood suckers in Transylvania with Miss Morwenna (the only time at the dinner in which she, who loves a gothic novel, showed an interest in him, though normally she can be relied upon to rally any gentleman between the ages of sixteen and sixty-five.

But I will not think of the awful Kenrick and the fright  had on seeing his form by my bed, lips pursed for a kiss. It was only a dream, and I will dream of a dashing young admirer.

Shockingly, in an innocent young lady, I like men with the muscles developed, as in Greek statues. I felt a most improper stirring in forbidden parts of me when I heard Lord Ynyr talking once of how he envied is cousin Emile Dubois’ muscular chest and arms (I wasn’t supposed to hear those remarks; they were addressed to another gentleman with whom he was discussing fencing in the drawing room).

Tuly, on this December Sunday afternoon I should be praying for my grand relative Monsieur Emile’s happiness rather than having the presumption to think improperly about his form, for he has lost his whole family in one way or another through the Revolution in France, including the sister he smuggled over here years ago to a decline, I make no doubt brought on by sorrow for  the loss of the rest of her family.

What a dreadful thing! And could not the excesses that followed have been prevented had the nobles been more humane in their treatment of the peasants instead of treating them with barbaric indifference for hundreds of years, until the common people rose in such  rage that they in turn sanctioned barbarism themselves? But these are subversive thoughts indeed, and here comes my lady’s maid Agnes (let me never forget how fortunate this Dowager’s companion is, to have such service) .

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