The Dungeon

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

Over the course of the week, Eleanor softened a little. She allowed James to come to her house to see her. Seated in the drawing room, only too aware that Eleanor’s mother, a lady of the old school, was in the next room, James was the soul of discretion. He said that his father had received the news of their forthcoming visit to Grantham Hall with alacrity, that any strengthening of relations between James’s family and Lord Darlington was greatly to be welcomed, and congratulated his son on achieving such a level of intimacy. James did not dare mention what he had sacrificed in terms of Eleanor’s good will and favours.

“So you see, if we cry off now, the gaffer will be very put out. I don’t dare cross him like that.”

“But you dare cross me!” Eleanor said. “Clearly, my feelings count for less. Far less.”

“No,” he said. “But he’s the one with the money. You know we can’t get married without that.”

“Am I to be sold into danger for a handful of gold?” Eleanor cried, someone melodramatically, she had to admit.

“What danger?” James said. “It’s just a weekend with a bit of riding. And shooting too, I hope. His woods are stuffed with game, I hear.”

“Promise me one thing. I want an absolute promise.”

“What?”

“Promise that you will never leave me alone, the whole time we are there. Not for a moment.”

“Well,” said James, “I assume we shall have separate rooms at night.”

“I wish that we did not,” Eleanor said. “I shall feel very vulnerable then.” A moment after she had spoken, she realised what this must sound like, the words of a brazen hussy. She blushed deep red. “I mean, only that I wish you were standing guard outside my room at night.”

“I will make sure there is a lock and that you will have the only key,” James said.

They arranged that they would travel down to arrive in time for dinner on the Friday evening. Once again, Eleanor’s father lent his carriage. “Be good,” he said. “And make sure your chap looks after you.”

“I will, Daddy,” she said, and kissed him goodbye. As a father he was to her mind over-protective and too strict; but she knew it was because he loved her and wanted to keep her safe.

This time she had worn a less provocative dress, though still enticing. There was a good deal of lace; the dress was of dark blue crepe de chine and close-fitting, even below the waist, clinging to her body until it flared out below her posterior. But at least the neckline was modest. She hoped it would do nothing to encourage Lord Darlington.

He was at the door to welcome them. Eleanor had been hoping that they would not be the only guests, that others would make up the company. But for dinner there were solely Lord Darlington, James and herself. His lordship said that in the morning there would be neighbours coming over from a neighbouring estate. But until then, it appeared, they were three only.

This meant that the usual custom of ladies retiring for the men to drink port and smoke cigars would have meant Eleanor being abandoned to her own company. Instead, Lord Darlington conducted them both into the library. Coffee was served and more drinks: port for James and some dessert wine for Eleanor. Both the men smoked. Generally speaking she didn’t care for a lot of smoking, but Lord Darlington had excellent cigars and the aroma was pleasant.

All evening Lord Darlington had been eyeing her, looking now at her ankles, now at her bosom, as it seemed, even though it was not displayed as before. But this time, he seemed to favour her bottom, his eyes often set firmly upon it. Eleanor couldn’t help thinking of his liking for anal intercourse. She wondered idly what that might feel like. Surely one would be far too small down there. But she reasoned that there must be ways of rendering the anal passage more accommodating. Could one learn to like it? Did one have sensations in one’s ass, or was it only the man who got pleasure that way? Could you learn to enjoy it?

Suddenly she found herself speculating on Lord Darlington’s c**k. Was it large? Must one unavoidably find it painful to be buggered by him? If so, why had his wife consented?

James was engrossed in a book he had taken down from the library shelves, which had given Lord Darlington the opportunity to engage Eleanor in conversation. Or try to. She was uncommunicative to the point of surliness. She remembered what James had said about his father not wanting any disrespect to his lordship, but she found it almost impossible to be even civil. She was aware all the time of his eyes upon her, devouring her, as it felt. She could imagine all too well the thoughts running through his mind.

“Are you eagerly looking forward to marriage, Lady Eleanor?” Lord Darlington asked. His expression was not exactly a leer, but there was little doubt that there was only one aspect of marriage which interested him.

“Oh,” said Eleanor, affecting an airy manner, “I suppose there will be good things and bad things. For instance, I shall look forward to having more freedom. My parents can be a little oppressive.”

“Freedom to do what?” he asked.

Eleanor coloured slightly. “Freedom to choose my own company,” she said pointedly.

“Freedom to know a more sophisticated circle of friends, perhaps?”

Eleanor was only too aware of what he might mean by this. “I find that when people speak of sophistication, they all too frequently mean laxity of morals.”

If she hoped he might be crushed by such a remark, she was disappointed. “I think that a rather narrow way of thinking,” he said. “It is my view that life offers a wider variety of pleasures than are allowed for in the Church of England prayer book.”

“I’m not much interested in the Church of England,” Eleanor retorted. “I am thinking only of common decency.”

This was a lie. Eleanor’s mind was constantly thinking of all sorts of things which were commonly considerate indecent, and not only by the Church of England. In any case, nothing she said seemed to put him off. Indeed, he rather revelled in the challenge of her attempts to discourage him.

“That’s a very pretty dress,” he said, changing tack.

“Thank you,” said Eleanor, realising that she must try to be a little more accommodating, or it would be a very long and tedious weekend. She looked towards James. “What is that you are reading?” she asked him; anything to get away from Lord Darlington’s line of thought.

“Oh,” said James, “it’s one of those novels from the last century. Tom Jones, in fact. It’s rumoured to be rather risqué. Which means of course that you must not be allowed to read it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Eleanor retorted. “I am not such a prude.”

“Indeed you are not,” said James. “All the same, it is not suitable reading for a well brought-up young lady. I am sure your father would not approve.”

Lord Darlington was smiling. “Pray, give us some flavour of the improprieties it contains.”

“Not in front of the young lady,” said James, still enjoying his joke.

“I seem to remember,” Lord Darlington said, “that there is a good deal of hopping in and out of beds. Other people’s, I mean.” He looked at Eleanor, as if hoping he had shocked her.

“Have you done any of that in your time, Lord Darlington?” Eleanor asked in her most innocent voice. If he hoped to shame her by lewd talk, she would make it clear that she was not to be so intimidated. But James went bright red, clearly disapproving. “I think it is bedtime if we are to be up good and early in the morning,” he said.

Eleanor enthusiastically agreed. Lord Darlington said he would show them to their rooms. She was pleased that her room was next door to James’s. She whispered to James to ask if it had a lock.

“Oh, yes indeed,” said Lord Darlington, overhearing her. He opened the door and on the other side was a large key. He took it out and handed it to Eleanor. “No bed-hopping here,” he said with a wink. She took the key but ignored the remark.

“Well, I bid you good night,” Lord Darlington said. He turned and walked off down the corridor. Eleanor was glad to see his room was evidently some way off. She gave James a peck on the cheek and shut the door behind her, turning the key firmly in the lock. The room was pleasantly and tastefully furnished, albeit in styles of the last century. Eleanor examined the bed and found it soft and, more to the point, dry, as if it had been recently aired. In the middle of the floor was her large suitcase and some other small bags. From one she retrieved her toiletries.

She’d been given a candle to bring upstairs. She set it beside the bed and began slowly to undress. Meanwhile Lord Darlington, having walked down one corridor, did an about turn and walked back along another corridor, parallel to the first. Stopping at a door, he opened it and went in. He crossed to the far wall and, ascending a small step-ladder, removed a painting from the wall.

Eleanor was not much used to undressing herself. Her maid was far more skilled than she was with hooks and eyes and suchlike, so things progressed slowly. Eventually she managed to get her dress off, then her petticoats and finally her corset. She sat, wearing only her drawers and stockings, at the dressing table, gazing into the mirror as she began to remove her make-up and put on the various creams with which she anointed herself every night, or more usually was anointed by her maid. She took some time smoothing some fragrant and admittedly rather expensive cream onto her bosom. It was reputed to keep the skin taut, preserving the firmness of the breasts, though in truth Eleanor’s breasts, supple yet springy, needed no artificial assistance.

On the other side of the wall, Lord Darlington stood with his eye glued to a small hole through which the girl could be observed. He was fascinated by her beauty, her body at once gracious yet sensual. He imagined what it must be like to kiss it, caress it, possess it. A plan was forming in his mind. By hook or by crook he must have this girl. Observing her naked body was not enough; he must taste the pleasures it offered. He knew that he would never attain them legitimately. His charm had worked on many girls, but always those of a lower class, who could be easily persuaded to go to the lengths he wanted by a modest p*****t. Some of them had complained afterwards that his demands had been excessive, causing them actual bodily harm, but further payments stopped their tears. However, he knew that Eleanor was impervious to his blandishments, and that money would be rejected with contempt. It would have to be a bolder and more drastic strategy.

Having finished her toilette, Eleanor went over to the corner of the room, where a chamber pot had been provided. Eleanor took off the lid, pulled down her drawers and squatted to pee. Lord Darlington could not hear the sound of trickling water, but he could see between Eleanor’s legs just enough to observe the thin stream of yellow fluid. He could not remember anything which had aroused him so strongly. He put his hand to his groin and squeezed his c**k. He would deal with its importunate erection later.

Eleanor wiped herself and stood up, pulling up her drawers, but not before the lord caught the briefest look at what they covered, her belly and below. From her bag she retrieved her night gown, an elaborate affair with lots of flounces. To Lord Darlington’s disappointment she drew it on over her drawers, then wriggled out of them without revealing the full glory of her naked lower body. The stockings too came off. Eleanor jumped into bed and blew out the candle. So that was to be the extent of his enjoyment for the night. There was plenty for his mind to work upon.

Lord Darlington was surprised that the girl did not kneel at her prayers before getting into bed. What did that say about the state of her morality? In his view, godlessness was a necessary precondition for loose morals. Perhaps there was hope that she was not as stiff and strait-laced as she seemed. Might it be possible to persuade her that the experiences he could offer would afford her great pleasure and satisfaction? All she would need to do would be to detach herself from outmoded and narrow-minded notions of what was and was not permissible between adults.