Miss Rochester

“But Geoffrey she has a dowry of twenty thousand a year, we need the money.” Father insisted as they tried once more to marry me off to some dull sickly ugly wench with a fortune in search of a title.

Its no fun being Lord this or that with not sufficient funds to even mend ones leaking roof..

“She has her maid push her round in a bath chair Father, she is a damn cripple,” I snapped.

“Quite comely though,” Mother added, “Anyway she arrives at noon so at the earliest opportunity make her an offer.

I was in a foul mood when Miss Rochester arrived. Her maid helped her from the carriage and into the house. They were far too friendly, I knew worshippers of Lesbos when I saw them and those two were most clearly practitioners of that art.

I made small talk, bored them stupid I hope, and then insisted on taking a stroll around the estate.

Poor Miss Rochester, she nearly fainted walking from the dining room to the entrance hall where her bath chair awaited. Her skin was a deathly pallor like alabaster, “Oh surely you don’t need that contraption do you?” I complained.

“Miss Rochester has a delicate constitution,” her maid insisted.

“Pah, she just needs rigorous exercise to get her blood pumping,” I declared, but the maid insisted on pushing her along at such a speed that tortoises were over taking us. I soon grew weary of pointless chit chat as we dawdled along a footpath towards the woods. “Oh give the chair to me, let us have at least a modicum of excitement!” I snapped.

The maid dutifully allowed me to push and I set off at a run, “Dear lord!” Miss Rochester declared, “Have you gone mad!”

“No, just expressing my zest for life,” I exclaimed.

“Oh well it is rather exciting but be careful the chair sometimes tips,” she warned.

It was too late, with but three wheels and the fore one merely castoring a tree stump undid us completely and Miss Rochester was thrown out to land ignominiously on the grass with her skirts thrown up revealing a pair of surprisingly shapely legs and thighs and equally comely were the other parts on which a Gentleman is not supposed set his eyes.

Parts covered by soft down and framed by the suspender tapes linking her corsets to her stockings.

She lay immobile, stunned.

“Oh my good lord are your all right?” I demanded. I reached for her and tenderly lifted her to turn her over. She lay completely limp and completely still.

I lifted her skirts to hide her parts, and eased her over. “Miss Rochester?” I queried, “Dear God have I killed you?”

I cradled her head and all at once she came to life and grabbed me around the back of the head and drew me down upon her so she could kiss my mouth.

“Are you going to give me the kiss of life?” she giggled.

“Oh my.I thought I had killed you!” I declared.

“Did you like what you saw?” she asked.