4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Helen Has Suitors

M argaret and Helen ended up staying until the ball ended. When Lady Green entered the ballroom, she expected Helen to be sitting somewhere on the periphery. To her total surprise, she saw Helen dancing, and with a gentleman. An Earl. Lady Green wondered how Helen had managed to snare a dance. Earl Cowper walked her back to where Margaret stood, waiting. “I hope to see you at the smaller balls coming up.” He smiled and bowed to her. “It has been a pleasure to dance with you.” He bowed again. “Good evening.” And he walked away.

“Helen, you are becoming the belle of the ball.” Margaret put her arm around her. “Look who observed you on the dance floor, with an Earl, no less.” Margaret looked toward Lady Green.

“I wonder what she is thinking. Wondering if I paid the gentleman, perhaps. Watch. We shall see if she says anything at all.” Helen reverted to the old Helen. Quiet and docile. She looked to her mother with angst. What would Lady Green say?

Helen and Margaret walked hand in hand toward Lady Green. “What have you two been up to this evening?” Margaret could see Lady Green glaring at Helen.

“We have been doing what balls are for, Mother. We have been dancing.” Helen had not intended for it to come out quite so sarcastically – it did.

“Is there something wrong with Lord Cowper’s eyes?” Lady Green snorted with disgust.

“Lady Green, Lord Cowper walked up to Helen, took her hand, bowed, then told her how exceptionally lovely she looked. He said he would be honored to have the last dance with her.” Margaret winked at Helen. “I am envious. We danced all night but Lord Cowper asked her for the last dance. He is handsome.”

“Everyone gets lucky sometimes.” Lady Green retorted, then dismissed Helen and Margaret as they left for the coach.

Hoping to spend the evening with Margaret. They had much to discuss after their triumphant debut. “Mother, would it be alright for Margaret to spend the night?”

“Yes. Fine.” She looked at Margaret. “Shall we take you to your home? You can bring your carriage to our townhouse and we can have the stable boy take care of it for you.”

“Yes, Lady Green. Thank you.”

Margaret Spends the Night

Margaret opened the front door, wondering where the butler, Mr. Newton had disappeared. “Hello?” She called out.

“We are in here, Margaret.” She heard her Papa call to her. Her parents loved to read to each other in the evening. A common occurrence for her parents to stay up late.

“Where is Mr. Newton?” Margaret threw her hands up, disgusted.

“We hardly know. Did you enjoy the ball sweet girl?” Papa asked.

“We had so much fun. Helen and I danced most of the evening.” She spun around.

“That is marvelous, Poppet. I’m pleased you had such a wonderful time.”

“Did you enjoy the opera?” She reciprocated.

“People seem to thoroughly enjoy the Diva Elizabeth Billington. I don’t care much for her. The opera was La Circe. I think I would have enjoyed it better if they had a different female lead. But I enjoyed the opera itself. What did you think?” He looked to the wife he adored.

“Yes, I agree.” Margaret’s mother smiled up at her. “I’m so happy you had such a good time. Now, what is it? You wish to stay the night with Helen? Is her mother in agreement?”

“Momma, Lady Green cares not one fig what Helen does, as long as it does not bother her.” Margaret’s parents were kind. Momma had particular notions about Margaret’s person, but Margaret knew her mother loved her. Helen, in comparison, often thought she had to have been a big mistake.

“I know Lady Green is not kind to Helen. I only wish she would be a little less demonstrative about it in front of her peers. It is shameful. But we shall keep such things to ourselves.” Mama sounded commiserative.

“Do you want to take the small carriage?” Papa asked. “I can have Mr. Newton tell the stable boy to get the horse harnessed up?”

“Yes, Papa, if you can find him. I would rather go find the stable boy myself.” Margaret shook her head. “Papa, Mr. Newton did not come to the front door when I returned. When I called out, you answered, not Mr. Boardback.”

“Edward, you must speak with him. He is becoming rather lackadaisical.” Momma commented as she patted Papa’s cheek.

“I will be most happy to discharge him, Virginia.” He puckered his lips as he mockingly patted her cheek in return.

“We can think about it.” She answered as Papa threw up his hands.

Margaret walked toward the stables. “Horace? Are you still awake?” He could be abed and she hated to wake him. His hours were long enough.

“Yes, my lady. I’m still up. Working on some of these straps. How can I help you?”

“Would you harness one of the carriage horses to the small carriage? I’m riding to Lady Helen’s tonight.”

“Lady Margaret, you sure you want to go alone? I would be happy to drive you there and return for you on the morrow?” Horace had a sweet demeanor. He loved his job as a dedicated young stableboy. Margaret worried for he appeared to be rather on the thin side, yet, Elspeth, the cook, confirmed Horace had a hearty appetite.

“I think this area of Town is safe enough. We have not had any crime in this area. At least, none I can recall.”

“My lady. I worry for you. I mean, a young lady such as yourself, alone at this time of night. Now, you remember what I am going to tell you. If anyone approaches you on the road, you use your whip on the horse first, then the person trying to stop you. If they take your whip, the horse is well on his way.”

“Thank you, Horace. I will most certainly remember your advice.”

Margaret went inside, up to her bedchamber, and pulled out her small traveling case and her etui. She had all she needed to leave. She recalled a book she thought Helen would find enlightening. She looked under her bed and selected, Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure. She tucked the book inside her traveling case and set out for Helen’s.

“Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure”

Helen and Margaret had completed their toilet, put on their night rails, and crawled into Helen’s bed with the book. They had taken turns reading. They were shocked at many of the more risqué passages. It was Helen’s turn. “Listen, ‘… but on my first stirring, which was not till past ten o'clock, I was oblig'd to endure one more trial of his manhood.’ His manhood!” Both kicked their feet repeatedly into the feather mattress as they giggled excitedly. “Helen, do you think men are really like that? Want to have their way with you all hours of the day and night?”

“I hardly think so. Why would they? It is most likely written specifically for the book. I do wish I knew what their manhood looked like. You think it looks anything like those Greek statues in the museum?” Neither of them had ever seen ‘one’.

“We will find out if we ever marry. I wish Muriel would hurry up and return from her honeymoon. She would tell us.” Margaret knew Lady Muriel would.

“I hope she does. I would like to have some idea before I wed if it is to ever happen.” Helen said matter-of-factly.

Helen kept reading. “Oh, my. Margaret, listen to this! ‘ The first sight that struck me was Mr. H? pulling and hauling this coarse country-strammel towards a couch that stood in a corner of the dining room; to which the girl made only a sort of awkward hoidening resistance, crying out so loud that I who listened at the door could scarce hear her, "Pray sir, don't — let me alone — I am not for your turn. — You cannot, sure, demean yourself with such a poor body as I — Lord! Sir, my mistress may come home — I must not indeed — I will cry out" — All of which did not hinder her from insensibly suffering herself to be brought to the foot of the couch; upon which a push of no mighty violence serv'd to give her a very easy fall, and my gentleman having got up his hands to the strong-hold of her virtue, she no doubt thought it was time to give up the argument, and that all further defence would be in vain: and he throwing her petticoats over her face, which was now as red as scarlet, discover'd a pair of stout, plump, substantial thighs, and tolerably white; he mounted them round his hips, and coming out with his drawn weapon – ‘

“Weapon! Margaret. Mr. H’s…you know…his thingy is what the author is calling H’s weapon. Gosh, do you think it is supposed to hurt like a weapon?” Helen, hesitant to think it would truly be a ‘weapon.’

“I would seriously doubt it. Why would this woman write about how she enjoys his ‘weapon’.” Margaret’s eyes were wide with amazement at the query of what a ‘weapon’ would be like. The two put their hands to their mouths and giggled again. “Helen, keep reading.”

“Alright. Let me see. Here it is. ‘ – coming out with his weapon stuck it in the cloven spot, where he seem'd to find a less difficult entrance than perhaps he had flatter'd himself with (for by the way this Blouze had left her place in the country for a bastard) and indeed all his motions shew'd he was lodg'd pretty much at large. After he had done, his dearie gets up, drops her petticoats down, and smooths her apron and handkerchief. Mr. H – look'd a little silly, and taking out some money, gave it to her, with an air indifferent enough, bidding her be a good girl, and say nothing.’

“This Mr. H sounds too promiscuous. Carnal. Lewd.” Helen shook her head; not fully understanding exactly what she had read.

Margaret looked at Helen. “Yes, he certainly does. Keep reading.” They tittered.