Lumiere

By Fiona A. D. Hunt

Mid-18th Century, England.
Scarlet is a graceful young woman with her whole life ahead of her. However, as time goes by, her life becomes unruly entwined with the lives and deeds of people around her who represent a kaleidoscope of distinctive characters: a corrupt sheriff, a determined doctor, an intriguing bandit and an assortment of resolute but vulnerable women. In Lumiere, Fiona Hunt embarks us on a journey which starts in countryside England, where the daily lives of disparate social classes intertwines amidst a background of love, passion and friendship, as well as brutality, greed, corruption and deceit. It is a vivid portrayal of the perpetual human struggle for finding a meaning in life. And it is through this quest that we are introduced to a series of intriguing events, one after another, throughout the book. This eventually lands us on the shores of Australia. In a world where destinies of people are inextricably entangled with each other, there might still be a way for us to redefine our fate; love transcends all insurmountable odds because love is the light and that light is lumiere.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Apr 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781528960496

Fiona A. D. Hunt

Fiona resides in Sydney, Australia, with her partner, Nima. They have a passion for the time period which Fiona so fervently writes about.

Book preview

Lumiere

Fiona A. D. Hunt

Austin Macauley Publishers

Lumiere

About the Author

Dedication

Copyright Information ©

Acknowledgement

Introduction

About the Author

Fiona resides in Sydney, Australia, with her partner, Nima. They have a passion for the time period which Fiona so fervently writes about.

Dedication

I would like to dedicate this to my partner, Nima (my Persian prince), his unwavering support and enthusiasm, and sharing my dreams with me. Thank you with all of my heart. I love you!

Copyright Information ©

Fiona A. D. Hunt (2021)

The right of Fiona A. D. Hunt to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781528913492 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781528960496 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2021)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

Acknowledgement

A special thanks to my brother, Daryl, for his belief in me. Also to my mum, sisters, brothers, nieces and nephews. Thank you all for being a part of my life.

Introduction

This story is based on pure fiction; an interpretation of the author’s fictional views of twisted history. The harsh realities. Effectively, what comes out of this fictional piece is the everlasting bond of love and humanity. The light that touches each and every soul; the light that gains strength from adversity; kindness by nurturing that is all encompassing to life itself. These endeavours of humanity help spread the essence of love. It is important and needed by all. No matter what side of history you may have come from or lived on. We are all one united in the brotherhood of mankind.

The story evolves from the old world into the new world and the colony encapsulating Australia. The journey is a documentation of people escaping brutality. In times of both depravity and reckless behaviour dominated by the ancient rules and regulations. A time where society was fragile and deeds were seen to be reckless. The characters represented range from light to dark. There are intriguing events and displays of heroism. The oppressed people finding their voices; this is a piece of fiction from my own perspective.

A captive audience creates good reading. I hope you enjoy reading this and will treasure the characters that I have created from my own imaginings.

I would like to say a huge thank you to my partner Nima Azizi―I love you! You have always given me continued support. In all of my creative endeavours, you are my constant for me; my love always. I would also like to thank my mum, siblings, their partners, nieces, nephews and extended family, both near and far in distance. Blessed am I to have such wonderful people in my life. Friends who I value, and you know who you are if you are current in my life. I will not name all that I know for it would be a continuous introduction.

A banquet was held in the great hall of the stone-walled manor set amongst the lush green hills of Elder Tree. In the distance, the old howled for their young, and they in turn responded to mother wolf. Their howling dominated the valleys that surrounded the grand estate. Lord Ballingarry was a flamboyant character. He was elaborate with his thirst and hunger, both in food and the arts. His estate was plentiful in both fruit and fowl. Everyone attached to his estate was never in need. All Lord Ballingarry asked for was loyalty. The cost of betrayal was immediate―there were no second chances or excuses. The perpetrator would be exiled. Placed out into the elements where they would either starve or survive. They would not be given reference, hence employment was harder to obtain. He ruled his little kingdom with an air of openness. His ego outmatched his own self. His heart could be weakened; however, there were times dependent on his mood. He allowed the staff that night to indulge in their own small fowl and wine. After everyone else was fed, they could sit at a distance and enjoy the festivities from afar. They were grateful for their master’s generosity.

The colourful jesters were hired to entertain the invited guests. Musicians, both instrumental and vocalists, were also procured for the evening. Pig carcasses already cooked sat idle on the roasting irons. The aroma was titillating to the senses. Tongues were lashing in both indulgence of food and idle chatter. Food was ingested along with the varied wines in many stomachs and mouths. The wine and lager was not as equal for some in measure. The master of the house, owner and occupier was a titled man. A title that he bought―not an inherited one. Being a blue blood was not a deemed requirement; wealth alone bought prestige.

Lord Ballingarry was feeling melancholic as he glanced at the pine trees. His beloved Jacqueline was laid to rest. And although she rested on the opposite side of the walled entrance, it still placed a knife in his heart. Lord Ballingarry lived with the guilt and the blame of feeling his Jacqueline died at his own hands. His temper became a little soiled sometimes. He didn’t mean to push her down the staircase. There was no enquiry into his beloved’s death. He merely paid Sheriff Brazen enough money and the problem went away.

Sheriff Brazen was paid handsomely. Unfortunately, he was not a very smart man; he wasted his money on women and liquor. Brazen came uninvited to the festivities with a reminder to Lord Ballingarry of what he knew. Lord Ballingarry had a remarkable hatred for Sheriff Brazen. Ballingarry openly declared his fondness for Sheriff Brazen publicly. That made the sheriff think he was well regarded. Lord Ballingarry wished he could dispose of Sheriff Brazen. He had his guests to consider, and he had to come up with an alternative plan. Ballingarry wished it would seem accidental so that it would gain no suspicion. How he wanted to rid himself of this vermin that dared to call himself a lawmaker! The character that Sheriff Brazen portrayed was somewhat different. Brazen saw himself as an officiator of the law. Yet, with impropriety, he himself did not live by his decree.

Lord Ballingarry invited Sheriff Brazen to dine with his distinguished guests. The guests were polite and cordial as expected. They were guests and acting accordingly. Some of the guests, unbeknown to Lord Ballingarry, had the same distinctive distaste for the sheriff. Some, like Lord Elderly, knew the sheriff was more than keen to climb his rank in society. Lord Elderly had a daughter, Avalon, who fancied the sheriff. Lord Elderly quickly hastened any further interaction. Avalon was made to stay behind with a minder this very evening. Avalon was professed not to have much ingenuity when it came to the opposite sex. Lord Elderly did not want to be seated near Sheriff Brazen. Elderly’s daggered look towards him was duly noted by Sheriff Brazen. He sat beside a French man by the name of Jacques Bouchard. Jacques’ daughter Alleffra had natural beauty, and she was noticed by many a male that night.

Alleffra was seated to the right of her papa. Sheriff Brazen had still managed to gaze towards Alleffra. She was aware that he was watching her, but she chose to ignore him. Sheriff Brazen had a reputation for his wandering eyes. The stories that followed him; some not so real but the majority were. Most people in the village thought him to be a charlatan. Some knew he could be paid to turn the blind eye or two. The idle chatter ceased and the entertainment began. A fiddler by the name of Argyle Arbuthnot and his mama Aoife were of Gypsy blood. They were cheap in entertainment. However, their natural gift allowed them to see beneath the exterior of their audience.

Aoife knew Lord Ballingarry was not the most admiral man. Argyle was gladdened to receive a small payment for that evening. He knew he would be able to afford to feed his family. Aoife Argyle’s mama and his wife Faolan ― both had voices of Angels. Faolan softened her melody to give Aoife the audience she had craved for all of her life. Faolan was a selfless woman to those fortunate enough to know her. They entertained the guests with their luted voices. Complimentary aspect of their voices seemed to enchant their audience. Some were noted to be wiping tears from their faces. Their voices sung of love and sentiment. Both Aoife and Faolan thought often about their oppressed family no longer with them. Family sent further across the seas. They each sung with hope that they had full bellies. That evening, their kin were never too far from their minds or hearts.

Sheriff Brazen wanted the entertainment to be over as he was in need of some cash. He tried several times to grab Lord Ballingarry’s attention. That evening, he was finding his trying a little tiresome. Lord Ballingarry chose to ignore Sheriff Brazen. Sheriff Brazen picked up on the sentiment and with very good reason. Sheriff Brazen did not realise the finalities of etiquette and politeness. He was in need of coin to pay an outstanding bill with a tavern owner. As the night loomed on largely, it was becoming increasingly obvious to him that this was not going to be. Lord Ballingarry quite frankly wished he would leave. Lord Ballingarry thought if he ignored him long enough, he would leave. Sheriff Brazen did not leave. This only remedied Lord Ballingarry’s darker side into thinking thoughts of disposal. Sheriff Brazen truly was a thorn in Ballingarry’s thigh.

Sheriff Brazen managed to procure a jug of port which was reputed to be of a varying sum of money. He thought this would easily pay off his debt. He decided to leave the party for some time, and he made an excuse of having to relieve himself. There was no issue of observation with regards to Sheriff Brazen’s protruding stomach. The guests did not take too much notice of him when he hurried past them. Sheriff Brazen was hunched over and rather droll like in his composure. He made his way off to the tavern where he would pay his debts off. He hoped that the tavern owner would love the port. The tavern owner was delighted; he placed the jug of port behind him. It sat with pride of place on the shelf. The new owner of the port, Seamus McMannus, was bemused by the extraordinary-looking vessel. Seamus spat polished the jug and rubbed it clean with the sleeve of his elbow. Seamus was happy that he had received some form of token.

Seamus unfortunately had had dealings with Sheriff Brazen before. He was not the most trustworthy lawman, but then who was, Seamus thought. Sheriff Brazen was a little frazzled that evening. His need for a woman outweighed the little intellect he had. He did not have any money to partake in such pleasures. So he made his way out of the tavern, and as he left the establishment, he turned to look at the sign that hung by the door and made a mental note of the name. The tavern was named the ‘Shy Mermaid’. He walked out into the night and decided to take his pickings once again at Lord Ballingarry and his estate. An old drunk in the tavern that same evening said to Seamus, What are you doing with one of Lord Ballingarry’s jugs of port?

Seamus replied, Don’t be silly, old man. Sheriff Brazen just paid off a debt to me.

He looked rather quizzical at the old man and the old man continued, If I were you, I would return that property.

Seamus said, There is nothing to return; it is a payment of a debt―that is all. After making his announcement, the old man left and went out into the elements of the night.

Sheriff Brazen stopped and rested for a while; he wanted to catch his breath. The old man passed him, and then he retreated and said to Sheriff Brazen, Scoundrel! He spat near his boot and had the look of utter contempt.

Sheriff Brazen rose to his feet and said, How dare you address an officer of the law in such vile terms!

The old man looked at him and said, You are not an officer’s bootlace; you’re nothing but a common thief with a title.

Sheriff Brazen replied, You mistake me, old fool; be on your way before I have you incarcerated.

The old man laughed out loudly and said, You fool, you’re the one that should be incarcerated for stealing Lord Ballingarry’s finest port.

Sheriff Brazen said, You mistake me again, sir; I ask you to refrain from such sentiments.

The old man gaggled like a goose and said, No, I do not mistake a thief when I see one. He paused and then continued, threatening Sheriff Brazen, In fact, I am about to go and tell Lord Ballingarry the good news of where he can find his port. And he marched on ahead.

Sheriff Brazen was startled at the amount of energy the old man had. He tricked the old man and said he knew of a short cut. He said that would make both of them less tired on the walk back. The old man was very trusting and he appreciated the consideration. Sheriff Brazen relied upon the facts that he had in his possession. The clear intent was the wrong hillside. However, both men forged ahead this very evening. Both of them headed up the hillside, towards what looked like to be Lord Ballingarry’s manor. There was a little bit of an incline. With trickery in mind, they were actually heading for Lord Dudley’s manor.

Lord Dudley’s residence was a direct copy of Lord Ballingarry’s manor. The folk in the town said that to copy someone is the best form of flattery. The old man had no idea what fate had in store for him. He simply trusted Sheriff Brazen to do the right thing. He was hoping Brazen would admit his thievery to Lord Ballingarry. The old man was an honest and just man. He had hoped that Sheriff Brazen would mend his ways. The old man taunted Sheriff Brazen as they were both climbing up the steep incline. Sheriff Brazen asked him, or rather demanded, that he shut his mouth. Sheriff Brazen had to remind himself to stay calm. Although the taunts agitated him; he had to control himself. Sheriff Brazen knew the territory well. He also knew of the boulders that existed on either sides of the hill. The boulders were the only entrance and exit point on this particular hill. Sheriff Brazen was skilled at manoeuvring his body to squeeze in between the boulders.

He came out on the other side unscathed. The old man watched Sheriff Brazen with such intensity he thought he had the correct manoeuvre down pat. The old man made the fatal mistake of using too much of his shoulders. And he did not crouch down enough with his legs. This action of his caused him to be wedged in between the boulders. The old man did not see the jagged edge of the boulder. And by the time he realised, it was too late. The right side of his face ripped open as he moved and he bellowed in pain. He managed to crawl in between the crevice and screamed as he realised his face was procured and very much attached to the boulder. He put his hand up to his face to try and eradicate any bleeding, and he then passed. His body was protruding from the boulder with nowhere to move. The only light that was being projected that evening was the moonlight. Sheriff Brazen was all too calm; he had witnessed and had heard death before. He thought the last episode of his evening was ineffectual. Hence, he had no heart.

Sheriff Brazen relieved himself of his liquor on the hillside. Then he decided to approach the old man’s corpse. Sherriff Brazen retreated back to the scene of death. He kicked the corpse to make sure no life was still coming from the old man. He tugged at the corpse. The old man’s body was fully exposed to the elements and to Sheriff Brazen’s fingers. The old man’s body exhaled one last breath. Sheriff Brazen was gladdened that he had just relieved himself. He jumped in fright and his body shuddered. He kicked the corpse again. Then he set about looking for some loot.

The old man’s spirit looked back at the body he once inhabited. Then he went on into the ethers of the afterlife. Sheriff Brazen foraged through the clothing and pockets that were on the corpse. He came across an old tobacco tin. He lifted the tobacco out of the tin. There in the tin was a leather pouch. It was the goldmine he had been looking for. Sheriff Brazen took out his small knife. He cut at the leather pouch which was secured with strapping. He discovered it was full of hundred-pound notes. Sheriff Brazen placed his lips on the leather pouch and kissed it. He then secured the leather pouch and money in his pocket, and then checked if there was anything else of value on the corpse. When he had seen there was nothing else, he began to kick the corpse down the hillside. Sheriff Brazen was cold and he never gave the body any dignity. There would be no sacrament that evening.

Sheriff Brazen then retreated back down the hill and made the correct way to Lord Ballingarry’s estate. He was ecstatic; he could refrain from being a sheriff with this new wealth. He would have to bide his time to do so. Sheriff Brazen did not want to cause any suspicion so he decided he would have to win the heart of a lonely widow who had cash. He did not see a solitary person on his way back to Lord Ballingarry’s. He had hoped that he had not been missed. Sheriff Brazen truly was the depiction of his name. He had to rid himself of his habitual behaviours. The grey matter that was encased in his head was more cunning than intellectual. He could say he was unfortunate, but it was quite the contrary. His title was a disguise and altered by his moods; his thirst for the drink and whatever illicit means he came upon. Not many folk went against the sheriff.

Sheriff Brazen thought he would not have to rely upon Lord Ballingarry’s innate kindness. The dispensing of money would cease, he reflected when he walked back to the manor. He decided to try and turn over a new leaf. Sheriff Brazen made a false promise to himself that evening.

Sheriff Brazen had been gone for much longer than what he had realised. He finally re-joined the festivities which were well and truly at hand. Nobody missed nor did they remark on his re-entry. He was of no consequence to the party. He sat for a while and drank some more liquor. He tried to strike up a conversation with Lady Avalon, but she rebuked him instantaneously. The fiddlers continued in fine form. The guests were encouraged to partake in a dancing. Sheriff Brazen grabbed Alleffra by the arm. Her papa Jacques interjected. Jacques was furious; he could smell a fox when he saw one.

He firmly stated to Sherriff Brazen, Sir, if you do not mind, I would like to dance with my daughter.

Sheriff Brazen still had hold of Alleffra’s arm. Jacques gently persuaded him to let go. Jacques showed his waist coat. A small musket no bigger than an inkpot was noted by Sherriff Brazen. He was astounded that some French man would be so forward.

Sherriff Brazen replied, Sir, you mistake me for being hostile. I was merely being hospitable.

Jacques said, I mistake you for nothing which you already are.

Sherriff Brazen scoffed at him and removed himself from the scene. He then went on ahead and his eyes spotted another young lady. He tried with his tongue to persuade her to be in his arms.

The music continued, and Alleffra was more than happy to dance with her papa. After the music had stopped, another suitor came into her path. Lord Ballingarry was taken aback by her natural beauty. Her auburn locks complimented her luted voice. Lord Ballingarry felt a rumbling in his trousers that he had not felt for some time. He reminded himself that he was a male and in want of needing. Lord Ballingarry was smitten, and he could not take his gaze off her. Alleffra giggled with enthusiasm as he kept up with the steady pace. The pursuit Ballingarry intended on winning. He guessed her age to be not more than twenty years. He imagined her pettiness against his robust figure, which he hoped would not frighten her off. Lord Ballingarry decided then that very evening to ask Jacques if he could start to court his beloved daughter. Lord Ballingarry was coming up to his thirty-eighth year. He was sure his age would not deter her. He had enough worldly possessions to keep her accustomed. Lord Ballingarry wanted to marry again for love; he loved once with such intent he could love again.

Lord Ballingarry was unaware of his natural looks himself; he was not a vain person. That evening there were other women folk who were immensely jealous of his pursuit of Alleffra. The one young lady who stood out the most was Scarlet Huck. Scarlet was the daughter of the physician attached to Lord Ballingarry. Scarlet’s father Fredrik was refined; he was very much appreciated by all that he knew. Fredrik only served the wealthy for they paid better. It afforded him and Scarlet a wonderful and modest life. Scarlet so wanted to interject with all of her might that she had visions of stepping on Alleffra’s feet. Scarlet wanted to disable her of any time with Lord Ballingarry. She felt that she had known Lord Ballingarry longer than Allefra. Scarlet was biting the bottom of her lip. And only when a trickle of blood was noticed by her papa did she stop.

Fredrik thought his daughter was a bit odd at times but he put it down to perhaps her anxiety fed her disposition. He had made up his tonic and she refused to take it this evening. Scarlet complained to her papa that no one was dancing with her and he said, Why don’t I escort you on the dance floor?

Scarlet replied, Oh, Papa, I would like that very much. Scarlet smiled back at her papa and Fredrik thought at last she was happy, even if it was for a minute or two. They made their way onto the floor and were dancing very close to Alleffra and Lord Ballingarry. Fredrik was unaware of the plan that Scarlet had in her mind. Scarlet casually got closer and closer to the couple. Scarlet feigned feeling dizzy. Before her papa realised anything was amiss, she fell to the floor. Her plan did not work that time. Her papa was considered the best person to handle the situation. The music stopped momentarily. Fredrik was helped by Lord Dudley’s son Augustus. Scarlet was embarrassed, and she decided to sit out the rest of the dancing. Augustus, to his benefit, held her hand. Augustus asked for some whisky to help with Scarlet’s disposition. Fredrik was given an opportunity by Augustus and he continued dancing. Widow Frankfurt was dancing with Fredrik and he was amazed at her agility.

Fredrik thought it was time that they had some refreshments. He escorted her from the dance, and they headed to the table. Sally Lord Ballingarry’s housemaid was getting tired on her feet. She was pacing back and forth, trying to rid her back of ailments. She greeted Fredrik; she had been introduced to him before so he smiled graciously. Widow Frankfurt was also a jealous woman and said to Fredrik, You make conversation with a common house maid.

Sally looked harshly at her and spoke not a word. She valued her position and her employ. She bit her tongue. She was rather surprised with the response that Fredrik gave.

Fredrik said, We are all human, Widow Frankfurt; it is our duty as elevated people in society to show kindness to all.

Widow Frankfurt scoffed and said, I have to disagree with such an agreeable man and it pains me to do so. She half smiled as she delivered her message. Sally thought about spitting in her refreshments, but sentiment got in her way. Fredrik and Widow Frankfurt found a secluded spot to engage in some idle chatter.

Fredrik said, Widow Frankfurt, I would like to show you some culture. He paused and continued, Perhaps you will allow me to take you on a trip to visit London etc.

Widow Frankfurt smiled and said, I would be honoured to be your new wife, Fredrik. She paused and said, I insist that you know my name at least; Agate.

Fredrik looked a little bewildered and said, Agate; extraordinary and unusual, to say the least.

Agate smiled back at Fredrik and said, My papa in his lifetime was a mineral expert. Agate enlightened Fredrik that she was named after a mineral.

Fredrik said, Quite extraordinary. Now I do not wish to put the horse before the cart. But I must court you first and then marry you.

Agate said, Sounds divine.

Fredrik said, Yes, indeed, and you will not go unescorted. He paused and said, We shall have two rooms to accommodate you and my daughter, Scarlet.

Agate breathed a sigh of relief and said, That I can agree to. Agate looked down at his trousers. She noticed he was becoming thick and hard with passion. Fredrik removed his coat and placed it across his lap. He covered up his embarrassment and lust. Agate removed the coat and grabbed him hard and lustful. She suggested they head towards the wooded area. Fredrik in his quest for lust pursued her. They came across a small grassy embankment. He placed his coat down on the grass and Agate lay down. Agate pulled up her skirt and petticoats. Fredrik was quickened to undo his buttons on his trousers. As Fredrik bore down on her with such lustful force, she moaned in sheer delight. Agate through her enthusiasm bit Fredrik on the left shoulder. Fredrik shuddered and then he lay exhausted on top of her.

Agate whispered to him, You were everything and more, my sweet.

Fredrik gently kissed her lips and he opened up the top of her dress. Agate exposed her breasts to him and the elements. Agate shuddered as he gently teased her nipples. He bit down, gently licked, sucked and kissed her breasts with wild passion.

Agate and Fredrik lay there for quite some time and Agate said, Will the party be missing us?

Fredrik reached in his waistcoat pocket for his timepiece. He held it up in the moonlight and said, We must get ready to return.

Agate said, Fredrik, I think we will be planning a wedding soon.

Fredrik said, Yes, but please allow me to tell Scarlet first.

Agate smiled; she had succeeded in capturing her prey. They quickly fastened their clothing. Scarlet noticed that Fredrik had been gone for some time. She was annoyed that her papa left her with Augustus. Scarlet was pleased for him to return. Augustus drove Scarlet demented with the habitual habits of his fowls. Scarlet came to her own conclusion that Augustus was quite fowl like himself. Scarlet felt like yawning to give him a subtle hint that she was discontented with his art for conversation.

Agate blurted the news out to Scarlet and said, You can call me Agate. Mama is far too formal for me.

Scarlet directed a question to her papa: Is this true, Papa; you are to marry a woman you hardly know? Fredrik was annoyed that Scarlet would rather question him, especially when there was an audience. Fredrik thought Scarlet should congratulate. He was also annoyed that Agate would enter this conversation. He wanted to be the one to tell Scarlet. Agate did not know Scarlet well. She would soon find out. Scarlet left any propriety out of the window that evening.

Scarlet gathered momentum in her words and tone and she shrieked, Papa, you have astounded me to say the least.

Fredrik went over to console his daughter. Scarlet had a captive audience in the crowd. He placed his arms around her, she was not happy.

Agate continued with the audience and thanked Lord Ballingarry for his hospitality. She said, Fredrik, I think it is time that we should leave. Fredrik agreed; he was smitten. He would have jumped off a bridge if Agate said so. The carriage ride home was subdued. Even the hooting of an owl did not cut the tension. Scarlet’s position in the carriage was replaced by Agate. Scarlet was asked to settle her posterior on the outside of the carriage. The small seat was just comfortable. She had to hold on to the exterior arm of the carriage. The ride home for her was a lot rougher than what she was used to. The seating inside of the carriage was at least amply cushioned. She sat quietly and could not hear much conversation. Only the occasional giggle from inside the carriage. She was livid and was looking forward to her home. She would resume her seat inside the carriage.

Agate had another thing in mind. She grabbed at Fredrik whilst he was trying to control the reins. Fredrik became excited again.

Fredrik said, Please, Agate, I need concentration whilst I am in control of the carriage.

Agate laughed and apologised. She gave him directions to her lodging house. The carriage pulled up alongside. She kissed him goodnight passionately on the lips. Agate alighted and Scarlet took her position back inside of the carriage. Fredrik waited for Agate to be safe inside of her lodgings.

Agate knocked on the door of her lodgings. Mrs Hodges had already packed up Agate’s possessions. Agate’s locket was procured for the arrears that she owed. Mrs Hodges opened up the gated hatch and noticed it was Agate. She delightfully opened up the door and threw her bag out at her. Whilst screaming, Mrs Hodges informed Agate she had her locket. Agate lost her balance and managed to stop herself from falling. Fredrik had witnessed what had happened and came to Agate’s defence. Fredrik was furious that a woman of substance could be treated so harshly by a landlord. Scarlet hopped out of the carriage and climbed towards the back. Fredrik helped Agate up to the carriage, and she was crying in hysteria.

Fredrik said, I will go and see the venomous woman myself.

Scarlet was nonplussed by the whole event. She sat quietly and never asked Agate if she was fine.

Agate’s nose was full and she did not have a kerchief to blow it. She kept sniffling and tried to calm herself down. Fredrik pounded on the door with his right fist. He was so furious he drew blood and was wild with his temper. Scarlet had not seen her papa so angry in such a long time. Fredrik demanded that Mrs Hodges open up the door.

Mrs Hodges yelled out, Go away and take your vermin with you; good riddance to her. She paused and then continued, I say and you’ll need all the luck to muster coming under her spell.

Fredrik retreated and climbed back up; he then passed Agate his kerchief.

Agate noticed the superficial wound on Fredrik’s right hand. She said to Fredrik, Perhaps you are in need of your kerchief?

Fredrik responded, Nonsense. I do not mind my little wound.

Agate smiled and she blew her nose into his kerchief. Fredrik filled her on the village of Boab Tree Village. The carriage with its occupants had made its way into the very modest carriageway. Fredrik escorted Agate and Scarlet inside the cottage. Mrs Fitzgibbon was Fredrik’s live-in maid. She was asked to show Agate to her room.

Agate complained to Mrs Fitzgibbon and said, The room is rather small, don’t you think?

Mrs Fitzgibbon said, You have a dresser; although quaint, it is inviting. Mrs Fitzgibbon continued and said, The closet is plenty big to put your belongings in comfortably. Fredrik unhitched the horse and placed the carriage in the stable area. Johnny, his stable hand, awoke with a fright. Fredrik assured him.

Fredrik said to Johnny, I should apologise for waking you.

Johnny smiled and said, Thank you, sir.

Johnny retreated back to his bed of straw and slept amongst the fowl and animals. Johnny was hoping that he would rekindle his dream. Fredrik left the stable and retreated back inside of the cottage. All of the occupants were safe. He latched the door and made his way to his own bedroom. The time was slow in passing. Agate was finding it hard to go to sleep. The cottage was on the outskirts; it was as silent and very still. She heard an owl hooting, and it frightened her. She had never had the luxury of listening to wild life before. Agate thought the house in which Fredrik lived in would be more than two rooms across. She decided that she would go exploring tomorrow. She was curious where everything was. She drifted off to sleep and had not managed to change into her night attire.

Fredrik had troubling sleeping; he was tossing and turning in his bed. The more he turned, the more he became sunken in his feathered mattress. Finally his body became too exhausted to fight. He drifted off.

Fredrik looked at his time piece. The time was not more than one-minute past five o’clock.

Mrs Fitzgibbon was already awake and stoking the fire in the kitchen. Once that was lit, she then retreated to the parlour and placed some kindling in. Mrs Fitzgibbon was happy that the fire did not take long to gather momentum. She put her technique down to her breathing exercises. She was startled when she had seen Fredrik’s shadow making his way down the hall. He was just as equally startled when the light from his candlestick echoed his lustful sentiment of his uncontrollable desire for Agate. He entered the room where Agate was sleeping. Mrs Fitzgibbon was a prudent woman. She believed in consummation only after a ring was placed on a woman’s finger. She was not unaware of a man’s desires. She was widowed for many a year. She practiced subsistence and it worked for her. Mrs Fitzgibbon kept that opinion to herself. She valued her employ at the cottage. And the safety and luxury it provided her. Mrs Fitzgibbon felt her life was blessed. She had been in Fredrik’s employ for quite some time now. Fredrik had a fondness for her, albeit a maternal one. Mrs Fitzgibbon, much to Fredrik’s flattery, reminded him of his own mama. Fredrik did not have anything else on his mind. Apart from the saluted beast that was waiting to erupt from his nightshirt.

Agate turned in her bed, and she noticed the candle light that was approaching the bed. The owner of that flame was none other than Fredrik. Fredrik stoked the fire and added some more wood on the hearth for comfort. He gently placed the candlestick on the dresser. He made his way over to her. Agate was still half asleep and she asked Fredrik, What are you doing in here?

Fredrik threw his nightshirt off and said, Is it not obvious? There he stood naked and his lustful charm was hard. Fredrik was in need and wanting. Agate quenched his desire. He accommodated his lust with as equal enthusiasm. Fredrik acted quick and hastened his retrieval; he kissed her gently on the lips. He left her and tiptoed up the staircase and got dressed for the day.

Agate’s nether regions were still sending signals of pulsating lust. Her body quivered with unbridled ecstasy. She fell back asleep. It was only when the cock crowed she realised the new dawn had arrived. Scarlet had been woken up by her papa. He was heard making his way down the staircase. Fredrik had an extra spring in his step that morning. He decided then and there, he would have to make haste on the wedding. Fredrik would ask the minister to marry them post haste. The wedding ceremony could take place in the parlour of his quaint cottage. Fredrik wanted an intimate wedding. Scarlet would be happy as long as her papa was so, he thought. Fredrik made his way into the kitchen where Mrs Fitzgibbon was busy making some oatmeal.

Fredrik greeted her, and Mrs Fitzgibbon knew that his body had been inhabited. She thought it too early, and it surprised her that it was Agate. Mrs Fitzgibbon offered Fredrik a cup of tea, and he decided to sit in the kitchen to drink it. Fredrik started the conversation about the wedding. Mrs Fitzgibbon almost dropped the pot of tea; his statement bewildered her. She knew that she would be out of place if she made her feelings known. She just smiled and said, Sir, as long as you are happy.

Fredrik said, Yes, indeed I am; in fact, I think we are kindred spirits.

Mrs Fitzgibbon did not sit down with Fredrik. She continued to stir the oatmeal.

Scarlet had joined Fredrik in the kitchen. She greeted her papa, Good Morning, Papa. Fredrik turned and smiled at his daughter. He grabbed her hand and ushered for her to sit beside him.

Fredrik’s smile was beaming and he said, I am to be married, my dear girl.

Scarlet looked a little too confused and said, Who to, Papa?

Fredrik smiled and said, To Agate, of course, my dear.

Scarlet did not respond; Fredrik waited then said, My dear, it is usually customary for daughters to congratulate their papa.

Scarlet said what Mrs Fitzgibbon was thinking. Papa, you hardly know her.

My dear, that is why when we are to marry, Fredrik insisted.

Scarlet replied, I don’t mean to sound spiteful, Papa.

Mama would not mind, Fredrik assured Scarlet.

How old is Agate? she then asked.

Fredrik looked puzzled. And he said, More than twenty years.

Scarlet looked and said, Yes, and I am of twenty years soon myself, Papa.

Fredrik said, Let us not jump to any conclusions about age. Fredrik patted Scarlet’s hand.

She was not happy―the less than ideal situation. She understood her papa’s loneliness. Agate joined them at the breakfast. It was a late effort at that but nonetheless one noted. Agate helped herself to the ribbon that she had found in a wooden box on the dresser. Agate went along the hall. She heard the voices of Fredrik and Scarlet. They both decided that they could wait no longer for Agate.

Agate waltzed into the parlour. She kissed Scarlet on the cheek and said, Good morning, dearest; I do hope you slept well.

Scarlet said, Good morning; yes I did sleep rather well, thank you.

Agate then made her way towards Fredrik, kissed his cheek and said the same. Fredrik responded cordially with a blushing smile.

Scarlet made idle chatter and asked her papa, Papa, I thought I heard you this very morning.

Fredrik said, My dear, you did indeed. He paused then said, I heard someone near the fireside in the parlour; Mrs Fitzgibbon.

Scarlet accepted his excuse and left it at that.

Agate said, I would love to have a look around. I hope that it is not too prudent of me to do so?

Fredrik said, Of course not, but I am afraid I have to attend town.

Fredrik paused and said, Scarlet will only be too happy.

Scarlet smiled and said, Perhaps we should make a picnic of it. Scarlet sounded excited as she said, We can take some fresh bread, cheese and some juniper wine.

Fredrik said, Splendid idea, Scarlet; now if you will excuse me. Fredrik paused and looked at his timepiece. He said, I should be back by the early evening for the female folk.

Fredrik excused himself from their company. He grabbed his bag from his library. And the documents that he needed to lodge with his solicitor. He had every faith in Mr Josiah Bell. Fredrik was a rather astute businessman and intelligent. He would place a new will and testimony. He wanted Scarlet to be the main benefactor should anything untoward arise. His new wife-to-be Agate would receive a handsome sum of a thousand pounds. That would give Agate a very good life in the future. Agate would not receive any property whatsoever. She would have to terminate her residency at the cottage. If something should happen to Fredrik, Agate would be granted a two week grace to find other lodgings. Fredrik did not want to disclose any of these proceedings to Agate. So he was more than happy when Scarlet suggested a picnic. This was a perfect cover. Fredrik thought for any need of a companion that particular morning. Scarlet was excited but Agate could think of nothing as bland as a picnic.

Agate was used to a very different lifestyle. She was used to balls and banquets. Not oatmeal and outdoors. Agate knew she had to endeavour. One day she would be rewarded handsomely for the lacklustre life she was about to enter into.

Fredrik did not realise that Agate had a thirst for the pleasures of the flesh. Fredrik could not satisfy her lustful nature. Scarlet and Agate had made their way outside of the cottage. They had walked past the stables, where Johnny was working. Agate enquired as to who Johnny was. Scarlet had told her he was the stable hand. Agate admired his physique. She glanced at him with an admiring eye. Agate would excuse herself of Scarlet’s company. Soon enough, she thought Johnny seemed more interesting.

Agate observed her new surroundings. The cottage was two rooms across. She noticed the unusual way in which the building was displayed. Half of the brick work was exposed in the natural formation of bricks. Whilst the other was slightly tinged hues of salmon colour and the bricks were bagged. It was aesthetic to Fredrik’s eyes; it was not of Agate’s taste. Agate decided the furnishings should be updated. The fabrics looked as though they had belonged in another time. Fredrik was under no illusion of how old things were. He was happy they still were in good order. Fredrik did not have to have the latest. Not the greatest of anything. Fredrik’s contentment alone was enough to satisfy any thirst for anything different.

Agate thought that there should be more fruit trees, oranges and lemons. Agate thought that colours would uplift the drab exterior. The fragrance of the trees would be both pleasing and be in harmony with the senses. Scarlet stopped at a spot; they had climbed the steep incline to the old oak tree. The tree provided the necessary canopy for their skin. Agate poured the juniper wine. Her taste buds were erupting with the exquisite flavour. Agate gulped down the first glass of juniper wine. Scarlet just had the left-over wine. She managed a half glass. When she measured again, it was more likened to a quarter. Agate had procured more than her fair share of the juniper wine. Scarlet bit her tongue. Rather than argue over the portion or lack of in her case.

Agate decided to pump Scarlet for information with regards to Fredrik’s finances. Agate started with a simply question. How long has your papa been widowed for?

Scarlet answered back, Not long enough; I think he still loves Mama. Scarlet looked a little uneasy with regards to talking about her mother.

Agate said, I know it pains you to talk about your mama. She paused and continued, I know I can never replace her, but we shall be good friends. Agate saluted Scarlet’s mama with a chinking of glasses. She went to take a sip of juniper wine. There was none left in her glass.

Scarlet looked up at the sky. The weather was changing its mood. The clouds were gathering momentum. She said, Perhaps we should make our way back to the cottage?

Agate agreed, and they both made their way back down the hillside. Agate suggested that they take an alternative route. And go in the back entrance of the cottage. Scarlet did not think anything different. Agate feigned she wanted to see if the back was identical as the front of the cottage. Scarlet amused her and did so.

Agate said, So perfect and extraordinary. Scarlet was nonplussed by her over-enthused remark. Agate suggested that Scarlet show her around the stable.

Scarlet said, There is not much to see in there apart from a few animals.

Is there a horse? I would like to see a horse, asked Agate.

Yes, I’m sure Johnny will show you where the horse is kept; you can look at the pigs as well, replied Scarlet.

Do they smell, the pigs I mean? Agate enquired.

Not worse than some humans. Scarlet laughed.

She then said, I feel as though I have something caught in my boot. Scarlet continued, Would you mind if I don’t go?

Agate hugged Scarlet and said, I shall be in soon enough.

Scarlet never responded with the gesture that Agate had made. She went back inside of the cottage and headed towards her room.

Mrs Fitzgibbon yelled out from the kitchen. Who goes there?

Scarlet responded by saying, It is only I, Mrs Fitzgibbon; Scarlet.

Mrs Fitzgibbon was relieved. Scarlet could tell in her response.

Mrs Fitzgibbon said, Very good, ma’am.

Scarlet had reached the top of the staircase. She said, Enough of the ma’am. It will be Scarlet till the last breath in me.

Mrs Fitzgibbon laughed and said, I am merely practicing for the new ma’am.

They both laughed a rather robust and infectious laugh.

Agate had made her way inside of the stable. She had latched the door behind her. She shook the door to make sure she was secured inside. She made her way towards the fenced area which kept the horses in. She had noticed Johnny was placing fresh hay inside of the first cubicle. Agate scared him and he stood still and said, How can I help you, ma’am?

Agate introduced herself and said, I would like a tour of this fine stable, sir, if you have time? Johnny obliged her, and Agate walked up closely beside him. Agate patted an old horse by the name of Sidney. She then was shown the pigs, and she noticed a loft area above the stables. Agate asked Johnny, What is up there in the loft? Johnny was not sure; he had never been up there.

There was a narrow staircase that led up into the loft area. Agate insisted that Johnny go ahead of her and she would climb the stair case behind him. Johnny climbed the staircase slowly; he was a little unsure whether he was doing the right thing. Agate said to Johnny, I shall be slower climbing; I need to pick up my skirts so I do not trip on them.

Johnny stopped and said, Perhaps we should not go up there. He started to retreat back down the staircase.

Agate said, Why don’t I go up first and you can be close behind me and hold my skirts from the bottom? Johnny was uncomfortable with the idea, but nonetheless he agreed to it. Agate hoisted her skirts up. And began to climb the staircase; she insisted on Johnny being close enough to her. Agate stopped and somehow managed to cover Johnny’s face with her petticoats and flesh. Agate rubbed her flesh on Johnny’s face. And simply lifted her skirts up again and continued up the staircase. Johnny’s body automatically responded with a very stiff beast writhing about, trying to escape his trousers.

Johnny gathered some straw around him to hide his discomfort. He did not want Agate to know that his body responded to her very open display of a non-virtuous kind. Agate looked at Johnny and she had unfastened her top. With such extraordinary haste, she prized her bosoms out from their encased cage. Agate beckoned for Johnny to come towards her. Johnny was scared; he wanted to keep his employ. This was the first time that a woman in his master’s employ was actually trying to seduce him. Agate started moving around. She was undressed fully now and she touched herself in sensitive places. Johnny, to his astonishment, undressed. Agate laid her body back on the straw flooring. She insisted that Johnny ride her well. She bit his shoulder out of pure lust for him. Johnny’s robust arms and leathered skin were an actual conquest for her. When Johnny had finished, he lay still, breathing fast. Johnny calmed himself down. Agate praised his manhood and said, Johnny, I think I should like the stables very much.

Johnny laughed and said, Ma’am, I am pleased, but worried about the master finding out.

Agate said, He is too busy to find out. She paused and said, If he did, I would just say that you attacked me and you would be punished. She laughed.

Johnny knew by her statement that she would be capable of doing just what she said.

He asked, Does he not please you?

Agate said, Yes, he does. I am a highly sexual being; I have to be satisfied.

Meanwhile Fredrik had made his way into the entranced hall of Josiah Bell’s establishment. Josiah was an older man of almost seventy years. He was well pruned for his age due to medicinal whisky. Josiah’s beard was in need of a trim. He was sitting at his desk and running his hands through his whitened beard. He looked up as Fredrik entered his establishment; he had a cold cup of tea in front of him. He got up and shook Fredrik’s hand with such enthusiasm. Josiah offered Fredrik a cup of tea and Fredrik indulged him. Josiah asked the needed questions of him not only as a lawman but that of a friend. He asked routine questions. Josiah wanted to meet this Agate who seemed to have stolen Fredrik’s heart. Fredrik noted to himself that the cup of tea was cold. Fredrik was too polite and refrained on remarking to Josiah. Josiah suggested that he investigate Agate somewhat before Fredrik was to part with any monies. Josiah thought the thousand-pound sum was rather generous with consideration as to how long Fredrik had known Agate for.

Fredrik decided to listen to Josiah’s advice, and he asked him to dinner that very evening. Josiah would be acting incognito. Josiah would be a dinner guest on the pretence of meeting Agate herself. He would be soft in his approach, so as to avoid suspicion with regards to the line of questioning. He would procure any means made available to him, and he would define what this woman was really about. Josiah insisted that Fredrik not tell her of his position and he also asked, Would Scarlet remember me?

Fredrik took some time to answer the simple question, I think not; it has been some time.

Josiah rubbed his hands together and said, Good, then I shall say I am a long and loyal friend. Then Josiah paused and said, Who happens to have his own firm.

Fredrik did intend to wrap things up today. With regards to his will; however, he had faith and trust in Josiah.

Agate came in all frazzled and seemed somewhat detached in her clothing. Mrs Fitzgibbon glared at her and said politely, Excuse me, ma’am, but I do believe your clothing…

Agate looked down; she noticed that one of her fasteners to the front of her gown was unbuttoned. Agate made up some feeble excuse. She said, I was trying to pick some strawberries. Mrs Fitzgibbon knew she was lying. For it was not strawberry season. She said not a word but her face spoke in volumes to Agate.

Fredrik picked up his pace when he noticed Agate seemed a little distressed. Her eyes were noticeably redder than normal. Fredrik approached her and said, Whatever is the matter?

Agate sniffed and said, Your housekeeper is not so nice to me; she questioned how I dressed. Fredrik saw red, and although he had known Mrs Fitzgibbon for some time, he now thought her demeanour to be out of line. Fredrik did not wait to hear Agate complain more; he marched on into the kitchen. He spoke calmly and his voice cut through Mrs Fitzgibbon like a sharpened sabre. Mrs Fitzgibbon was busy preparing the lunch. She