Lady Emily's Guardian

Mr. Singer

When word got around to our friends and neighbors that Lady Emily had gone missing, Wainwright Hall was flooded with curious well-wishers. I had been tempted to turn them all away, but Mrs. Gainsley convinced me to greet them politely. “Would your wife want you to turn them away so rudely?” she asked gently, and of course, I knew that she would not.

After that initial tide of callers, however, social activity almost completely ceased at Wainwright Hall. After we had wed, I had allowed Emily to host an annual spring party for our friends, but the first spring after her kidnapping went by without a celebration. I declined all invitations to parties and social gatherings those first two years, but it seemed that this did not alienate me from my neighbors. Indeed, they seemed to view it as appropriate that I would abstain from social gatherings during that time, as though I were a widow in mourning. They of course did not know the truth about Emily’s disappearance, and wild stories and rumors continued to circulate for years after.

Miss Howard, when not occupied by her duties to the children or to me, was as outgoing as ever, attending all social gatherings with or without escort (and often, I was sure, sneaking away for a little playtime of her own). Her sister, on the other hand, was as much of a homebody as I, and when the children were laid down to the sleep on those warm summer nights, she and I would play in the study or even in the garden. During these times, I was briefly able to forget my grief and lose myself in fun. But alas! As soon as I was in my bed alone, I thought of my poor little Emily again.

I threw myself into my work, often conducting it right out of my office at Wainwright Hall in order to spend more time with the children. Mina, like her mother, was a sharp little thing, and before her mother had been gone but a year, she was reading quite well on her own. I remembered a discussion that Emily and I had had, only a month before that ill-fated trip to Barcelona, regarding our daughter’s education.

Sitting together in the study on a chilly evening, we had been delighting in how wonderful our children were. Emily had expressed that she wished for our daughter to be formally educated. “My dear,” I asked suddenly, “Do you regret not going off to school yourself?”

My wife looked at me steadily. “Well, sir, I do sometimes wonder…” she said, but could not proceed. So it was decided that Mina would be sent to school, when the right time came. I could now only hope that Emily would be home to help see our daughter off. I spent much time with the girl, as I had with her mother, teaching her languages (though it seemed that Emily had given her a good start on French and German), mathematics, history, and exposing her to the same writers and poets that her mother had read. I was determined to mold my little Mina into a replica of her mother, as close as one could be without as much of a physical resemblance. Mina’s resemblance to me had become more obvious as she became older.

My boy Peter would never know his mother at all, but as he grew, he did seem to miss her. He clung to his ‘Auntie Bea’ ferociously, and I confess that I did not discourage this. If any woman were worthy of standing in the place of his mother, it was our dear Mrs. Gainsley, and she devoted herself to taking care of all the needs of the children more than ever. Even after everything that happened, I was quite grateful to her.

Some days were more difficult than others. Some days, I found no point in rising from my bed, and would spend the day dozing fitfully, thinking about my Emily, longing for her. On days like these, I was tempted to say, the hell with Mrs. Morrison’s threats, and head to London to find the best private investigator to bring my wife home. But I would think of Emily’s note again…my wife believed that the threat was very real, and I had no doubt that, after the damage Mrs. Morrison had caused already, she would not hesitate to bring us to ruin.

Days like these occurred less and less often as time passed. In spite of what I’d lost, I still had more than most. I had two wonderful and healthy children, and two lovely women to tend to my sexual needs. And my law practice was thriving. For so many years, it had only been me on my own. But through correspondence with an old law school acquaintance, a year after my wife’s disappearance I took on a partner. Daniel Shelton was fresh out of Cambridge, and though he had grown up in London (a poor young man, as it were), he was eager to experience a quiet country life, and knew that a decent salary could go far there, along with the right connections. Shelton took up a room in a local boarding house, and after I’d shown him our small offices in the village, I took him up to Wainwright Hall.

The sisters joined us for drinks and dinner. When we arrived, Miss Howard was waiting for us in the parlor, and she strode forward in her cleavage-revealing gown and offered her hand to our guest, purring in greeting. “Mr. Shelton, Sir Aaron has told us so much about you already…he didn’t mention what a handsome young lad you were,” she said, not holding back. My new partner blushed.

“Where is your sister?” I asked, more annoyed than amused by Miss Howard’s whorish manners.

“She insisted on putting down the children herself,” Miss Howard said with a shrug. She went to the drink cart. “Whiskey for you, Sir Aaron? And what will you have, Mr. Shelton?” She served up the drinks (the poor young man taking his in a trembling hand). I sat at my armchair, leaving Shelton to the mercy of Miss Howard on the couch. She was hungry for him. I hadn’t gotten a feel yet for how willing Shelton would be to join in our games…but then again, I believe that any man would be most willing. Women are the same way, I should note, but usually require a bit more prompting.

I had been negligent to the needs of my whores, I must admit. Certainly, we had our playtime, but it lacked in the spirit, in the fun, of when we’d all played together, with Emily. Alfonso Beaumont had not joined us since my wife’s disappearance (though I knew that Miss Howard kept on with him from time to time); we were all forgetting what it was to lose ourselves in passion and lust, and were merely going through the motions. Yes, a handsome newcomer would mix things up, I knew, and when Emily returned she’d be delighted with the new playmate. Shelton, young as he was, still carried a bit of baby-fat on his face, though his body was of solid build. When he’d removed his hat, his brown curls had sprung wildly around his head. Emily would find his boyish looks to be rather endearing.

When Mrs. Gainsley joined us, Shelton and I both stood to greet her. Compared to her sister she looked most conservative, in her lovely but modest gown and her hair tied back tightly, as was her style. Oh, how I loved to grab her hair and pull it loose, watching it tumble wildly down her back. My lovely Beatrice.

I introduced my partner to my friend, and offered her a drink. As I poured her a glass of wine, I suddenly had an idea. Young Shelton and sweet, widowed Mrs. Gainsley…looking at them, as they talked politely, I thought they would make a handsome couple. For a moment, though, I only felt saddened that my Emily was not there to work her magic, she always had such a way of bringing people together. But I resolved that my partner and my dear friend would know each other, quite well. In some regards, I was most successful.

I distracted Miss Howard as we finished our drinks, not wanting her to bristle from being ignored by our guest as he talked with Mrs. Gainsley. He was mostly asking polite questions about what it was like to live in that area, though he certainly seemed more comfortable with her mild ways than her sister’s aggressive ones. We made our way into the dining hall for dinner, and Shelton dominated the conversation with his stories about life at Cambridge. Wine loosened him up, and by the time we went into the study for cigars (Miss Howard boldly lighting one for herself and her sister, as Mrs. Gainsley, light-headed with drink herself, giggled), I felt certain that the night ahead would be a memorable one.

“So, Mr. Shelton,” Miss Howard said, perching on the corner of my desk, “How many young ladies did you fuck at Cambridge?”

Shelton made the mistake of inhaling his smoke, so surprised was he by Miss Howard’s forward questioning, and proceeded to have a small coughing fit. Mrs. Gainsley rushed to get him a glass of water, and I mock-scolded my whore.

Shelton, recovering himself, gestured that he was all right.  “Well, Miss Howard,” he said, his face shaded crimson (certainly from both drink and embarrassment), “For a short time at school, I was celibate.” At Miss Howard’s disgusted look, he smiled a little and explained, “You see, my family grew up quite poor, in the slums of London. We had a large family, and my parents spent more time in debtor’s prison than free, so…things were very difficult.”

Mrs. Gainsley, who had taken a seat beside Shelton on the loveseat, handed him a glass of water and stroked his arm comfortingly as he continued. “I was the most fortunate of the lot. I became employed at the office of a lawyer, just as an errand-boy, later working at the front desk and keeping track of the accounts. I was able to work my way through school, with the help of my employer, and saved up enough to apply for college. At that point, school was all that I had, school and my job. I had lost track of my family. Even my twin brother, who had been by my side constantly from the day we were born…I haven’t seen him since we were 13. So when I started school, I made a solemn vow that I would devote myself fully to my studies and…” He smiled, embarrassed again, and looked down into his drink.

Mrs. Gainsley was visibly touched by the story. I had already known this story, as his former benefactor had been my old friend, but found it nonetheless endearing. Miss Howard looked a little amused. “What happened?” she demanded, not unkindly.

Shelton grinned. “Well, Miss Howard, a person has needs, as I’m sure you know. I saw some girls who attended Girton, Newnham, and Hughes, and there were plenty of ladies in town. As far as a final tally, well…I’m afraid I cannot provide you with the number.” Miss Howard hooted with laughter, while Mrs. Gainsley looked quaintly surprised. I smiled.

“Shelton, my boy, I think you will fit in quite nicely here.” I proceeded to explain the nature of my relationship with the sisters. Shelton did not seem entirely surprised.

“There are some…stories in the village that I have heard about what you do here at Wainwright Hall,” Shelton admitted. This did not surprise me in the least; since Emily’s disappearance, the Howard sisters’ presence at Wainwright Hall had been under suspicion. I cared not about the rumors, nor did the sisters seem to mind, and so we carried on as before. “But if you don’t mind my asking…what happened to your wife?”

The question was not unexpected. I merely told Shelton enough to assure him that I had not killed my poor wife, she was indeed alive, and was abroad for an indeterminate amount of time. “I do miss her terribly,” I confessed in a moment of weakness. Mrs. Gainsley turned her concerned attention to me. “But my friends here comfort me so well. Shelton, would you like my whores to give you a proper welcome?”

It seemed that, in Shelton’s numerous sexual encounters in school, he did not have much experience with the use of restraints. Miss Howard was most willing to aid me in a demonstration. She set her cigar in the ashtray on my desk and quickly stripped naked. Shelton approached her hesitantly, and she drew him to her, placing his hands on her bare sides and kissing him sensually.

I grinned knowingly at Mrs. Gainsley, who was flushing a bit (still so innocent, even after everything we’d done together!). “Will you get the rope from the closet, Beatrice?” I asked.

“Yes, Aaron.” She quickly followed my orders (such an obedient whore, just as Emily always was), and when she brought me the soft length of rope (how many times had I used this same rope on my dear wife?), I stood and joined Miss Howard and our guest. She already had his trousers very slightly pulled down, and was groping his cock (a fair size, and surprisingly, circumcised) teasingly. I ordered the whore to her knees, and she positioned herself with her thighs apart, her wrists joined behind her back. This slut always seemed to know what I wanted.

I handed the rope over to Shelton and watched him tie up my whore. His hands fumbled awkwardly, but his knots were expertly tied as he bound Miss Howard’s wrists and elbows behind her back. Limber as she was, these cruel bindings forced her head back slightly, and for a moment, her plump lips parted in surprise.

Shelton did not fully unclothe himself (yet), but he did pull down his trousers enough to reveal the full length of his cock, and his smooth, almost perfectly rounded testicles. I watched, sitting beside my Beatrice on the loveseat, as Shelton pounded mercilessly into Miss Howard’s mouth. His cock was by no means enormous, but so rough was he that I heard Miss Howard gag at least twice. He had taken hold on the back of her head, forcing her head forward, and she moaned around his pumping cock at the strain.

I was surprised, but not unpleased, by my partner’s brutality. Had he treated my wife so, I would have objected, but I felt that this was just what Miss Howard needed. I wondered if he and Miss Howard might have a little fun with a whip or riding crop some evening. Miss Howard had never permitted me to give her more than a rough beating on the ass with a paddle, but perhaps fumbling young Shelton could turn her. The idea so excited me that I pulled Mrs. Gainsley to me and kissed her roughly, quickly pulling off her gown and feeling her sweet, plump breasts, fingering her erect nipples, the skin baby smooth to the touch. I was tempted to lean down and suckle, and for a moment I imaged drinking from my Emily.

The reminder of my wife caused me to pause. Mrs. Gainsley touched my face with concern, and I gave her a forced smile, looking at the progress of our friends. Shelton was pounding even more roughly down Miss Howard’s throat, and let out more of a sigh than a grunt when he came, extracting his cock from the young lady. Miss Howard almost whimpered, and I grinned; for a moment, I could have sworn that an expression of helplessness crossed the wild whore’s face. I then altered my plans: Shelton was not for Mrs. Gainsley, but for Miss Howard. He would be the one to break that whore.

I did, however, allow Shelton to have Mrs. Gainsley’s ass that evening. She’d never given her ass to another gentleman, though she had allowed Alfonso to fuck her in her cunt numerous times. Both naked, we each bent a young lady over my desk. I kicked at Miss Howard’s ankles to force her legs further apart; across the desk, I watched Shelton as he carefully slid into Mrs. Gainsley, and she whimpered, putting her forehead against the desk, though Shelton did not thrust into her too roughly.

I did not keep pace, and poor Miss Howard got another pounding that evening. As I thrust into her smoothly (for that whore’s ass was by no means tight, not like her sister’s), I placed my hand on her back and pushed her down against the top of the desk, repeating the gesture, smiling as I watched her fat tits smash against the desktop roughly (and her own nipple clips, worn more for decoration than for any sort of pleasurable torment, dig ever more painfully into her). She squirmed helplessly beneath me.

I watched as Shelton, coming more quickly than I, knelt down and cleaned my whore’s ass with his tongue. Mrs. Gainsley, still leaning over the desk, propped on her elbows, cried out loud, and I imagined that Shelton’s tongue had found her lovely little clit. She looked up at me as I continued to fuck her sister, and I grinned at her. “Relax, Beatrice, does it feel good?” She nodded, shuddering slightly, moaning softly. “Enjoy it, my dear, you’re such a sweet girl.”

I grabbed Miss Howard by the back of the head, forcing her to stand up straight, her back pressed against my chest as I came. I nibbled on her neck and murmured, “You’re not so sweet, are you, Tatiana? But you still deserve to get yours.” As Miss Howard was already so turned on (and wet, soaking wet as I lapped at her greedily), she and her sister came at the same time. Miss Howard cried out in almost a low growl as she came, while Mrs. Gainsley let out more of a surprised, slightly pained cry. God, how I adored the sisters at that moment. Even after all the trouble they caused, I look back and remember that as being my favorite evening with them. Without Emily present, of course.

While Emily used to enjoy lounging around naked for a short time after playing, perhaps sharing the warmth and comfort of her body with one of the sisters or myself, after she was gone we all would dress hastily after playing. We did so, and the ladies joined us to finish smoking their cigars (Miss Howard, perching much more carefully on the edge of my desk). We did not talk much, simply enjoying the afterglow of our orgasms and the quality tobacco. The ladies bade us goodnight, and I walked with Shelton to the front doors, to wait on our carriage with him. Our driver would be taking him back to his boarding house alone.

“Singer,” Shelton said carefully (for I had insisted that my own partner in law not refer to me by my formal title), “I do believe that you are the luckiest of men.”

I sighed deeply. “So it would seem,” I said.

“Miss Howard…she is quite wild,” Shelton observed approvingly. “I have heard much talk of her in the village…”

“I guarantee you, my boy, that all of it is true,” I said dully. “That, and more, I assure you.” I forced a smile (for I was dwelling on the bad luck that my poor dear Emily and I had been dealt). “Miss Howard is a very dear old friend. She is a very good friend to have…and I daresay, Shelton, she is quite eager to become a very good friend to you.”

“I would like to know her better,” Shelton said, almost shyly. My next smile was not forced.

“I care very deeply for my friend,” I said. “I love her, and her sister, very much. They were dear friends to my wife for years, and they take care of my children in her absence. I believe,” I said thoughtfully, “That Miss Howard would make someone a good wife, if she could have her ways tamed. And if I may say so, my boy, you showed a most firm hand with her this evening.”

“I had a feeling that she could handle it,” Shelton observed.

“You read her well,” I said. As the carriage pulled round, I stepped off the porch with my partner and bid him farewell. “Be at the offices tomorrow promptly at 7:30,” I instructed. “I will be honest, my boy, there will be stressful times in our line of work. So please be assured that you are welcome at Wainwright Hall anytime to get what you need to unwind.”

My partner nodded goodbye, and I smiled as I walked back into the house. My Emily would have been proud of me, I was certain. In my own fumbling way, I was playing the matchmaker myself. And as the months passed, and Shelton and Miss Howard drew closer together, I understood the gratification that my wife had gotten from her well-meaning, meddlesome ways.

While getting Shelton into the routine at the office, I spent more time away from Wainwright Hall during the day than I ever had before. I found that the days passed more quickly than when I had been moping about at home, and the sting of missing Emily didn’t hurt quite so much when I was busy. For a time, I even fell into an almost comfortable routine: up early for breakfast (and a little pleasure from one of the sisters) before heading down to the office, visiting with clients or filling out paperwork for much of the morning. If I were to be in court (which has never been often, in the sort of law that I practice), that would take up much of the morning. If I were not, I could typically find time to spend at home in the afternoon, before returning to the offices in the evening and relieving Shelton of his duties before finishing up the day’s work on my own.

Shelton proved an eager partner, and most evenings, if I had to stay on past dark, he would stay with me and offer his assistance. He would join us at Wainwright Hall for dinner and playtime about once a week, and his preference for sexy Miss Howard was soon obvious. Needless to say, he was most delighted one evening when she suddenly arrived at our offices for a surprise visit.

She greeted Shelton flirtatiously, of course, though his cheeks did not flare up at her forward attentions anymore. At my encouragement, he was handling her with a firmer hand, and he had revealed to me just that afternoon that he intended to let her have the riding crop that evening. Having only a little work to finish, I encouraged them to go off to Wainwright Hall in the carriage.

“Don’t bother to send the driver back,” I added. “I am in the mood for a walk this evening.” I smiled at my friends as they left, but as soon as they were gone, I sat down at my desk and let out a heavy sigh. It was May 13th. The second birthday that my poor Emily had spent away from home. I had not even realized that it was Emily’s birthday until early that evening, so busy had I been that day. At one point, I had looked at the calendar on my desk, just glanced at it…and found myself thinking, My Emily turns 26 today.

I had been holding back tears since I realized. Now alone in my dark office, I laid down my head and cried, mourning my loss all over again. I had not received another letter from Emily. There was no sign of her…I didn’t know for sure if she was dead or alive. Though in my heart I knew. I didn’t believe that Mrs. Morrison, the damned bitch from hell, would do anything to truly harm her. Would she?

In a dark mood, I found that I could not focus enough to finish even the menial tasks that I had left to complete. In despair, I extinguished the lights, locked up the office, and headed home. It was a nice evening for a long walk. I remembered that the weather was always agreeable on Emily’s birthday. Never once did it rain; it was always sunny, with a comfortable breeze in the air. Now evening, the air was comfortably warm still, a perfect evening to have a drink on the patio…or to make love to your wife in the garden.

I was calm, though still unhappy, when I came upon Wainwright Hall. I found the sisters and Shelton in the parlor. Mrs. Gainsley stood to greet me, and I knew that she noticed my anguish. But I forced a smile. “The children are not in bed already?” I asked.

“They’re playing in the garden,” she said. “I was just about to gather them up and tuck them in.”

“I’ll do it tonight,” I said, and without another word, I went to the back of the house and called to the children from the back door. They were not playing far from the door, but it had grown so dark that I could only see their outlines as little Mina, now six, led Peter to the house gently by the hand. She was so very sweet to her little brother, not quite two and toddling with wobbling haste, that I was reminded again of her mother, and could not stop my eyes from filling with tears as I led the children into the house.

“Let’s go to bed, darlings,” I said affectionately, and took them each by a hand, leading them patiently to the stairs. I carried Peter, still holding Mina’s tiny hand as we made our way to the nursery. I changed Peter’s nappy skillfully (I did not often take on such chores, but even before Emily was gone, I would occasionally offer my assistance) before putting him into his bedclothes, while little independent Mina dressed herself. I tucked them into the large bed that they shared, and stooped to kiss their foreheads.

“What’s the matter, Daddy?” Mina asked. She had noticed my anguish. Children are both intuitive and blunt, and I have always liked this about them.

“I am sad today, Mina,” I admitted softly. “Today is Mummy’s birthday.”

“I miss Mummy,” Mina said softly. Peter was silent during this exchange, watching us with wide eyes, and at that moment he resembled his mother more than his grandfather. I smiled at both of my children.

“I miss her, too, sweetheart,” I whispered. “And I’m very sorry that I haven’t talked about her more. Mummy will come home to us, and she’ll be very sad if her sweet children forget about her.” I picked up the small picture that sat on the children’s bedside table, the same picture of their mother that I had shown desperately to strangers in Barcelona. I showed it to them again. “Isn’t she beautiful?” I said. Mina nodded in silent agreement, and Peter continued to stare. “She loves you both so much,” I said, placing the picture in Mina’s hands. “She would do anything for you.”

Mina looked at the picture for a moment, before solemnly whispering, “Happy birthday, Mummy.”

“Happy birthday, Mummy,” Peter echoed uneasily. I smiled warmly at my children, and took the picture in my hands.

“Happy birthday, Emily,” I whispered, before placing the picture on the table again. “Goodnight, Emily. Goodnight, my darlings.”

“Goodnight, Daddy,” the children said, and I kissed them both again, extinguished the light, and left the room. For years after, I would have the children pay such reverence to their absent mother, sharing with them my pain, and the longing for her return. In time, Mina would almost grow bitter in her waiting, while poor Peter, rest his soul, would never live to see his deepest wish fulfilled, the wish that I had planted in his heart.

That evening, as Shelton whipped Miss Howard in my office, I sat back and watched. A naked Mrs. Gainsley perched beside me, and she rested her head on my shoulder. I stroked her hair absently.

“You are distressed tonight, Aaron?” she asked softly. Besides my sullen mood, my cock was soft, even as I watched Miss Howard receive the punishment that I’d craved to administer myself. I nodded silently, and Mrs. Gainsley kissed my cheek. “I never wanted to see you this way, Aaron.”

I placed a gentle hand on Mrs. Gainsley’s thigh. “Shall we leave our friends alone for a time?” I asked. Mrs. Gainsley stared at me in surprise, glancing briefly at her sister, who was moaning (more with longing than in pain) into her makeshift gag (Shelton’s almost embarrassingly tattered handkerchief, wadded up and shoved unceremoniously between her plump lips) as Shelton took a short break from punishing her to rub her clit. She turned back to me, nodding uncertainly.

I took her by the hand and led her back to the parlor. I did not have her dress or even cover up her nakedness; by now, the servants were quite privy to our sexual escapades, and though they had no desire to participate, they had assured me of their silence when it came to the activities in our home. I believed them well enough, and did not suspect any of them to have any part of Emily’s disappearance as Mrs. Morrison’s damned coconspirator after I had questioned them. Oh, no; because Emily had always had the final word in servants’ pay (the funds coming from her household account, of course), they had always been paid more than generously, enough to buy their loyalty. Having it all out in the open merely allowed us to practice less discretion.

However, to ensure our privacy, I closed the doors to the parlor. I motioned for Mrs. Gainsley to take a seat on the couch. “Care for another drink?” I asked, going to the drink cart. Without waiting for a reply, I poured two glasses of red wine. Mrs. Gainsley was lounging comfortably on the couch, and I realized that she’d never before been so relaxed around me in her nakedness. In spite of my low spirits, I was quite turned on.

She sat up to take her glass. “Aaron,” she said gently, “You may tell me anything that is troubling you.”

Suddenly, I was angry…at Mrs. Gainsley and Miss Howard both. “Do you not realize, my dear Beatrice, what day it is today?”

She was startled by my sudden anger, and I could tell that she now wished to be clothed. I did not give her the opportunity to answer. “How could you forget Emily’s birthday? She always remembered yours, and your sister’s. She always had such lovely little surprises for you on your birthday, and you forgot…”

“Oh, Aaron!” Mrs. Gainsley gasped, clasping her hands over her mouth. She looked mortified. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Aaron, I truly did not…”

“No,” I said quietly, regretting my sudden outburst. “I’m sorry, Beatrice. But it is weighing heavily on my mind today.”

“If I’d had any idea…” Mrs. Gainsley was flushed. Timidly, she stood and took me by the hand. “I suppose I am not as thoughtful as our dear Lady Emily.”

“That was not fair for me to say,” I admitted. I did not wish to be rude to my dearest friend. For Mrs. Gainsley had done so much for me since Emily’s kidnapping. Even now, after everything that has come to light, I cannot look back without feeling tremendous gratitude to my dear Beatrice. She had already done so much for me…and she would do so much more.

“Aaron,” Mrs. Gainsley said eventually, “I do feel badly for being so thoughtless. Do you…do you wish to punish me for it?”

I nearly laughed. She asked so earnestly, with a touch of apprehension in her voice. But only a touch…how much punishment would this soft, still-inexperienced girl take? But at that moment, even the thought of bending her over my knee and reddening her ass with my merciless hand did not excite me. I instead sat heavily on the couch and made a confession to Mrs. Gainsley.

“Eight years ago,” I said somberly, “To this very night, I raped Emily.” I proceeded to tell her the story of how we became lovers. I had never shared the details of it all to anyone, and by the look of surprise on Mrs. Gainsley’s face, I could see that she had not read it in Emily’s diary (and since Emily’s disappearance, I had kept her diary locked in the desk in my office). “You may think I am a monster for what I did to her…after I did that, what other choice did she have but to marry me?” And I confessed to her a fear that had always lurked deep in my heart, one that I had never spoken to my Emily. “I do wonder, Beatrice, if she only married me because she felt she could do nothing else.”

“Oh, no, Aaron!” And Mrs. Gainsley fell all over herself, reassuring me that Emily had loved me, she had been devoted to me, had worshipped me, and who could blame her? I smiled at Mrs. Gainsley, and I had a feeling that she was speaking from her own heart. But with regards to my wife, I knew what she said to be true. I have never allowed myself to doubt for long that Emily and I were always meant to be together. However I might have felt about any other woman, at any other time…she was always my one. My only one. And thinking on it at that moment, it only made the pain of losing her worse.

Talking about it was not helping, so what else could I do but fuck Mrs. Gainsley, so naked and willing in the parlor? I fetched rope (tools of restraint were kept in nearly every room of Wainwright Hall, except the children’s nursery), and tied her to the couch; her wrists were bound, her arms stretching back over one arm of the large couch, the other ends of the rope wrapped around the sturdy legs. Her legs were forced up and back, her ankles tied to her wrists, her body folded double. She moaned at the strain; I’d never tied Mrs. Gainsley in such a harsh position before. But she was willing to allow me to be rough with her that evening, and I certainly took advantage of her hospitality.

As I fucked her and fingered her asshole, I thought again of my limber Emily, always willing to try new positions in our play, allowing me to bend and stretch and punish her body. My sweet little toy. I felt hot, turned on but enraged, as I fucked Mrs. Gainsley, and I ceased fingering her ass, instead slapping her ass cheeks enthusiastically, relishing in her little cries of pain. “That’s right, whore,” I snarled to her, as I once had to my dear wife, “You are my whore, you fat little slut, you want me to hurt you.”

“Oh, Aaron,” Mrs. Gainsley moaned, and I knew that she did not like the dirty talk, not as my Emily had. I encouraged her to play along.

“Tell me you love this, whore,” I demanded through clenched teeth, pounding into her. I slapped her ass hard enough to leave a deep red mark. “Tell me that you need this, Beatrice, say it.”

“Oh, God, Aaron, I love you!” she cried as we both came. As it turns out, she had loved it, even though she would not submit to rough bondage all the time.

And so, for a time I was distracted from my sorrow. I untied Mrs. Gainsley, and we sat together for a short while on the couch. I closed my eyes and held her close, burying my face in her hair, and we did not speak. I heard her sigh softly, resting her head against my chest. I could never deny that I loved Mrs. Gainsley. It filled me with no small amount of guilt that I loved her almost as much as I loved Emily. But not as much. Not quite.

We decided to join Shelton and Miss Howard in the office yet again, and when we found them, I could not resist smiling. Shelton was relaxing in one of the armchairs; Miss Howard, smiling contently, sat comfortably on the floor between his legs, resting her cheek on his thigh. In the past few weeks, I had been pondering the idea of Shelton marrying Miss Howard. Neither of them had mentioned such a plan to me, but I was delighted to see it so clearly: they loved each other. And they were so good together.

We all settled in together, now more comfortable in our nakedness, and though we did not play for the rest of the evening (both ladies thoroughly exhausted from their respective punishments), we enjoyed each other’s company. As I went to bed alone that night, I would think, with more guilt, that I was having such fun without poor Emily.

The longing for her that I had at night, alone in our bed, is unspeakable.

To further distract myself from thoughts of Emily, I set about putting the idea of marriage into my friends’ heads. I started with Miss Howard. A week after Emily’s birthday, I was working at home on a lovely afternoon. I called Miss Howard to my office, and she came to me, closing the door behind her with a wicked little smile on her face.

“I did not call you in for playtime,” I said, motioning for her to sit in the armchair. She looked curious but amused (she is always amused when I try to speak to her in a serious tone). “Tatiana, you and I have not really had the opportunity to discuss your thoughts on Mr. Shelton.”

Her face lit up at the mention of her favorite new playmate…she almost seemed to flush. “Aaron, you know that I like Mr. Shelton very much,” she said.

I nodded. “Of course. I don’t think you’d allow him to subordinate you if you did not.”

Her flush was no illusion now. “I am starting to understand Lady Emily’s desires. I used to find her tastes for punishment to be a bit…peculiar. But he…Mr. Shelton…he does something to me.”

“It’s indescribable,” I murmured, something that Emily had written in her diary about her feelings toward me, when our wicked little affair had started. Miss Howard nodded in agreement. “Would you marry Mr. Shelton?” I asked gently.

Miss Howard frowned slightly. “You will think I am awful…”

“Tell me, Tatiana,” I said. “You are my friend, and you may be perfectly candid with me.”

“I have imagined being his wife,” she confessed. “I do…I do believe that I love him, Aaron. But he…well, he lives in a boarding house.”

I kept my tone neutral. “You would not marry him because he does not have family money?”

“It is not quite that,” she said. “You know me, Aaron. You know that I do not disregard a man if he is not wealthy.”

“But,” I said, “Sleeping with a man and marrying a man are two very different things. Especially to you, Tatiana.”

She smiled a bit at that. “I do not want much,” she said. “I can take or leave the fineries of life…my interests are much more carnal, you know.”

“I do.”

“Eventually,” she said, “I would want children.” She gave me a sudden, anxious look. “Do you think I could be a good mother, Aaron?”

Never at any other moment did Miss Howard remind me of my Emily. But her question took me back to that cloudy day, when Emily announced her first pregnancy. She had anxiously implored me if I thought she would be a good mother, and I had given her my reassurances. And she had certainly proven those to be true.

Before Miss Howard’s coming to Wainwright Hall, I would have never imagined her to have maternal instincts. It seems strange to me, looking back on it, that I, of all people, would have the idea that a woman with whorish desires could not possibly be a caring nurturer of children. Miss Howard had disproved this idea. She was never anything but loving and kindly to the children, and if either of them happened to prefer their Auntie Bea to their Auntie Ana, it was only because Mrs. Gainsley was so insistent in caring for all of the children’s little needs. Miss Howard allowed her sister to do this not out of laziness, but out of kindness, knowing how much her sister needed it. I could not think of anyone more ferociously loyal to her family and loved ones than Miss Howard. I told her this that afternoon in my office, and she beamed with pleasure. I was surprised by this; out of all of my whores, Miss Howard had never been one to need my reassurance, such a swaggering slut she was.

“I assure you, Miss Howard, that Mr. Shelton receives a most generous salary,” I said. “I am certain that, if you were to wed and bear a child, he would have the means to purchase a lovely home for your family.”

“I never imagined wanting to be a housewife,” Miss Howard said with a small giggle, but she frowned again. “I never imagined that any man would want to marry a woman like me.”

“You are a wild whore,” I agreed, and she gave me a wry smiling, knowing that I meant so with affection. “But Mr. Shelton delights in the idea of taming you.”

“Taming me?” Miss Howard laughed heartily, and was much herself again. “I may become a good little wife, but I will never quite be tame.” And to prove it, she came to my side of the desk and began to rub my cock through my trousers. And, well…we had our playtime that afternoon, after all.

I approached the subject with Shelton in a more roundabout way the following morning at our offices. “Shelton,” I said, “Have you considered investing any of your salary into real estate? Perhaps purchasing a fine home for yourself in the area?”

He confessed that he’d had a look at some houses in the village that were available, but that he was not currently in a situation that would allow him to make a purchase. “But surely your expenses at the boarding house are not so high,” I insisted.

“I live quite frugally,” Shelton admitted. “But my personal expenses are not the only ones to consider.”

I did not want to pry and alienate my partner, but with some gentle prodding, he filled me in on the details. Since leaving school (the expenses of which were covered by his former benefactor, my old friend), he had been able to get in contact with a few of his brothers and sisters, all of whom lived still in London. “Most of my salary has been going to their care,” he confessed. “And you have paid me so generously that they now live in relative comfort. Five of them share a fair-sized place in a boarding house, and my brothers are now in school. The only ones I haven’t been able to support are my twin brother and youngest sister, whom I haven’t been able to contact.”

The oldest of the orphaned siblings was only 18. Shelton expressed a desire to send his two brothers to university, so that they might have the same opportunities as he, and to set his three sisters up with enough money to attract desirable marriage prospects. With the money he was making, his plans were by no means grandiose. However, he would be unable to provide himself with more than the base necessities.

I had an idea. Throughout Emily’s absence, I had been faithfully continuing the work of the Sir Peter Wainwright Foundation, taking in donations and distributing funds to various orphanages and organizations for children, keeping very careful track of all the records so that Emily would be up-to-date on her pet project when she returned. Surely the Shelton children could benefit from Emily’s generosity, and I was convinced that, if she were there, she would have come up with the idea herself.

I explained my intentions to Shelton. He was more than a little hesitant to take “charity” from his partner, but I was insistent. “I want to help you to be well-established,” I said. “You came out here to have a simple country life, with all that it entails: a wife, children, a nice little home.”

I did not mention Miss Howard by name that day, but Shelton seemed to catch my meaning. But even after the funds were distributed to the Shelton children (allowing them to purchase a small home of their own, and to put aside trust funds for the children), no more mention was made of marriage between Miss Howard and Shelton for a few weeks. I began to fear that Shelton had no intention of marrying her, and that her worst fear would be realized: she was too much of a whore to marry. I seethed at the hypocrisy of this double-standard on behalf of women; a man may do whatever he pleases, but if a woman has any sort of sexual affair outside of the bonds of marriage, she is a pariah. So upset was I that I became rather cold toward my partner.

But one summer afternoon, as I worked out of home, I glanced up from my work to see Shelton in the doorway. “Shelton, my dear man,” I said with forced enthusiasm, “I thought I had given you the day off.”

“I am not here for business,” he said. “Not quite. May I close the door?”

“Please,” I said. I stood to pour my partner a cold brandy, though I resumed my place behind the desk, keeping a formal distance between us. His tone matched the ambiance that I created.

“I was not certain how to go about this,” he said nervously. “Her father is deceased, but she has never wed, and she has been living under your care…”

“Employ,” I corrected, knowing who ‘she’ was. I nodded for him to continue.

“I felt it only right,” he said, “That I ask your permission. I…well, I would like to ask for Miss Howard’s hand in marriage.”

“Of course,” I said kindly, and he instantly relaxed. “I was beginning to worry that I had read you wrong, Shelton. I thought perhaps that you did not view Miss Howard as the marrying kind.”

“I think that marriage is just what she needs,” Shelton said. “She told me once that she’s always felt aimless, untethered. Thanks to you, I am able to provide her with security and purpose. I signed the deed to the large stone cottage near the woods.”

I knew the place. Emily had admired it as a young child, enchanted by the way that the vines crept around the stone walls, and the wild flowers that grew around the property. “It’s like something out of a fairytale!” she’s once declared, and I’d found that most charming.

I could never escape from Emily. Memories of her crept on me at the most unexpected times, wrapping themselves like vines around my throat, and for only a moment, rendering me speechless, forgetting what I had been doing. Shelton must have noticed my momentary confusion, because he rushed on. “It’s a fair-sized place, quite sprawling, more than a cottage really.”

“Yes,” I said, recovering myself. I forced a smile. “I’m sure that Miss Howard will be most pleased. When will you ask her?”

“This very afternoon, if I may,” he said. I led Shelton to the parlor, and left him there to seek out Miss Howard. I found the sisters alone on the patio, the children in the nursery having their naps. As soon as I announced that Mr. Shelton was waiting in the parlor, Miss Howard sprang up.

“Oh, my hair is a fright!” she cried, rushing inside (probably to find the nearest lavatory before presenting herself to her beau). Grinning, I took a chair beside Mrs. Gainsley.

“It will soon be just the two of us,” I said. “Shelton is about to ask for your sister’s hand in marriage.”

A part of me was surprised with how thrilled Mrs. Gainsley was. She was not putting on an act to cover any sort of resentment or jealousy on her part; on the contrary, she was most pleased with this turn of events. “I always dreamed that Tatiana would marry a good man, and I don’t believe she could have done any better. Oh, Aaron,” she gushed, “This is your work. You brought Mr. Shelton into our lives.” She had turned the whole thing around to offer me praise, and though I do not embarrass easily, I flushed.

“Your sister is a charming young lady,” I said insistently. “And Mr. Shelton was smart enough to know a good lady when he saw her.”

“She is good,” Mrs. Gainsley agreed, though her voice was faint. “Aaron,” she said, “Does Mr. Shelton know about…?”

I instantly knew what she was referring to. “I would think not,” I said, “Not unless Tatiana has chosen to tell him. I do not know why she would do so. I believe that it will remain our secret, Mrs. Gainsley.”

I was struck with a sudden thought. It was not just our secret, not just between me and my wife and the sisters. Mrs. Morrison knew as well. I had not been the one to tell her, nor had Emily. Determined, I brought the question up for the first and only time. “Mrs. Gainsley,” I said quietly, “Do you know how Mrs. Morrison came to find out about…what happened?”

Mrs. Gainsley swallowed hard, and before she’d even made her confession, I knew. “I’m sorry, Aaron,” she said quietly. “It…it had been on my mind that afternoon, for some reason. I believe that it was Maxwell’s birthday,” she added, and I was reminded of my melancholy on Emily’s last birthday. “And, well…I was still feeling resentful about how the secret had been kept from me. I am no longer upset by it,” she added hastily, “No, if anything, I am grateful to you…and to Lady Emily…for being so kind to my sister. But that day, she…Mrs. Morrison…she manipulated me, Aaron. I’m so terribly sorry, I was drunk and I thought nothing of letting her in on it, I thought she was a dear friend to Lady Emily and I had no idea that she would…”

She was so panicked that I struggled to get her to calm down. Though I was seething silently, I knew that becoming angry would do no good. Mrs. Morrison had her information…there was no changing that. And Mrs. Gainsley, like Emily, was trusting and naïve. I decided to let the matter go, and we did not discuss Mrs. Gainsley’s accidental betrayal again.

Miss Howard and Mr. Shelton were married that autumn on the grounds of Wainwright Hall. Mrs. Howard came in from London with some family members to attend the ceremony, and many of our friends and neighbors came as well. In fact, it was the social event of the season, the first time we’d had guests in Wainwright Hall (other than Shelton himself) since Emily’s disappearance.

Though Mrs. Shelton no longer resided at Wainwright Hall, she was still a frequent visitor, still coming to spend the day with her sister and the children. There was also an unspoken agreement, between myself and Shelton, that I was still permitted access to his wife, so our playtime continued much as it had before. Shelton joined us for dinner more often than ever, and when he and his wife would leave after some playtime (Shelton enjoying the use of his sister-in-law as well), Mrs. Gainsley and I would find ourselves alone again.

It was two years after her sister’s marriage that I allowed Mrs. Gainsley to join me in the bedchamber that I had once shared exclusively with my wife. As much as the guilt pained me, the lonely nights had been worse. In the end, when everything came to light, it would be clear that all of us, even my pretty, sweet Emily, were guilty of betrayal in some form.