Dear Lady Jane - 1

The stagecoach groans and creaks every time we bump through another deep pit or over a rock. Because I'm sitting in the middle of the couch I'm always pushed against the gentleman to my left or pressed against the very fat lady on the other side. All very unpleasant.

Until now I have actually always traveled in daddy's carriage, which was a lot more comfortable. But since he's dead and we're poor, it's been sold.

And since I'm an afterthought and there's no money left for a dowry either, Mummy was worried I'd turn into a spinster. Well, I ask you, while for God's sake I'm just seventeen, only two months ago I had my debut.

But alas, mummy was right, none of the noble boys want me, because I have nothing to say and they all need girls with fortune for their easy lives. Fortunately, Mr. Robertson came forward, who himself is not a noble, but very rich and wants me because of my nobility and title. I saw him once so far, one dance together during the debutante ball and then only from afar.

So I am being married off to him, everything is arranged outside of me. Like that little cute one

Jane but shelter is mummy seems to think. Everything has been handled by letter by mummy and Mr. Robertson, he even pays her an amount to be able to live reasonably afterwards, a reversed dowry so to speak, with which I seem to be sold to the highest bidder. And now, two months later, I'm bumping and bumping on my way to get married.

Girls don't count

Daddy said I was his little angel. Shortly after each other my parents first had two girls, then nothing for years and then first my brother came as the much desired successor and while they were already relieved that they managed to do so, suddenly I was there too, within a year after my brother . So they weren't waiting for me at all, but I was lucky that I looked so sweet, immediately with those endearing bright blue eyes and hair that was golden blonde as soon as they grew and had cute curls, which always made it look, especially when I before the sun, that I had a halo around me. My little angel would say daddy and what I never really understood was that he looked so concerned.

Now I understand that by now. Daddy was an impoverished Earl, an Earl with an estate of which he could no longer afford any investment or maintenance and as a result of which it no longer yielded any income. By gambling with his last capital, he tried to save what could be saved, but every time that also went wrong. In the end, he saw no other way out than to keep the estate and county together by giving it as a dowry to my eldest sister Eleonora, so that she could marry a wealthy Duke, the Duke of Wessex. After which daddy hanged himself in the attic

So there was nothing left for my brother, who is now a sad Earl without property and lives in a few pitiful rooms in London. My two older sisters had already left home and I, like my brother, didn't have a penny left. Because noble girls without a dowry are simply nothing, mummy had to see what became of me. By the way, even noble girls with money are nothing. Everything revolves around men in the beau monde, they can do the nice things and we, we can hand over our money and then be obedient. The men prefer that we are stupid or pretend and most of all they prefer that we are always available and bear enough children.

Mummy really did her best to sell me well, but actually I was worthless without money, feel free to say that I was hopelessly lost to the beau monde of the nobility.

Fortunately, mummy and I were allowed to continue living on our estate, well, in the coachman's house, while the main house became vacant and the Duke of Wessex stayed there with my eldest sister for a week at most once a year. My eldest sister, who would prefer not to recognize us either. I think they both would have liked us paupers to have vanished into thin air, nothing was worse than being affiliated with an impoverished family.

That's why mummy was so happy that she could sell me to a common man, who also had money for that. So not noble, but a very rich man, a businessman who has earned a lot of money with the trade in India and is one of the most important people in Portsmouth.

The arrival

After a long day of bumping back and forth and being trapped between my fellow passengers, I am glad that we will soon arrive at our destination. Mummy wanted to send one of the girls along as a chaperone, because it's not really possible for a girl to travel alone, but I didn't have to. In retrospect I regret this because the whole journey a young man sat opposite me looking at me in a way that made me feel increasingly uncomfortable. As if I am a lamb that can be outsmarted by an angry wolf at any moment.

Mummy already warned me that I still look too young and too sweet, with those blond curls and blue eyes of mine. Added to that are dimples in my cheeks and an upturned nose, and somehow that always seems to make boys and men feel like I'm just a kid and that they can be loose with me. That's why I put on a hood that hides everything well and otherwise I look as cool and contemptuous as possible. But it doesn't really help and that's why I'm glad when more and more houses are along the road and we're getting close to Portsmouth. The closer we get to the sea, the more it can be smelled in the stagecoach, a fragrant fresh air that dispels the body odors of those around me.

According to Mr. Robertson's instructions, I am to get off at the last inn before Portsmouth, where his carriage will be waiting for me. When we finally arrive there I see several carriages, and because it is not proper to walk past all the carriage drivers myself to ask which one is for me, I ask the man on the box of the stagecoach to do that for me. I dare to ask him because mummy gave him some money to look after me a bit. To my amazement, after asking around, he takes me to the largest and most expensive carriage, one that only very rich noble people drive around in.

The carriage is large, with lots of glass and polished to a shine, it is drawn by four black horses, and a total of four men in livery sit on the box and on the back. From the stagecoach I see all my fellow travelers watching in astonishment as one of the lackeys holds the door open for me with a low bow, while the other puts my pitiful briefcase in a special luggage box. In the coach it is all even more overwhelming, the benches are made of white leather, the walls covered with a brocade-like silk and all that together with the dark red velor curtains makes an overwhelming impression. But do I really think it's chic?

As soon as the carriage leaves, the difference with the stagecoach is incomparably large. Gone are all the bumps and bumps, gently swaying I now roll over the last stretch of the still equally bad road to Portsmouth. Along the way there is a lot of attention and I almost feel like a princess being brought in. We drive all the way through the town until we reach the harbors and the sea, and there, at the end of High Street, the carriage pulls up in front of a gigantic mansion, I think it's even bigger than our old country house.

The moment I get out, the large front door swings open and at least twenty people in livery or black clothing stand on the platform, in two rows, which I have to walk between.

Ceremonial reception

I may be of nobility, but I'm really not used to this, we always had few staff at home. I am received by a stately gentleman with gray hair in a nice dark suit and he introduces himself as Mr. Smith, the butler and major-domus: My-lady, welcome to your new home. I have no idea what to do, he's only a servant and yet so dignified, I'll nod to him just in case. Then he leads me inside and it feels like I'm walking into a palace. The hall is grand and high, and everywhere I look I see chandeliers, carved paneling, walls hung with silk, marble floors, Persian carpets, statues, paintings. The central element of the hall is a wide red-mahogany gloss polished beautifully carved staircase, which splits half way into two separate parts, one curving towards the left wing of the house and the other towards the right.

Centered in front of those stairs is Mr. Robertson, my future husband. He looks distinguished in a dress suit and fortunately he is a little less old than I remembered, looks to me in his early thirties or so. He's got thick black hair slicked back and dark, piercing eyes that stare at me just like they did at that ball we met, which immediately makes me feel a little uncomfortable again. It seems as if he pierces me with those eyes and can see everything about me, even my most intimate thoughts.

"Welcome to my humble abode, Lady Jane," he says with a little bow, and I curtsey in response. May I accompany you? and then he reaches out to me with his arm, I put my hand in his elbow and we slowly walk up the stairs together, where we take the left part after the fork. Upstairs it goes on and on with the impressive decor, everything is equally grand and beautiful. Mr. Robertson takes me to a room where several girls in black and white aprons are waiting for me. Mylady, this is your boudoir and these maids are available to you. They help you get ready and changed, then you are expected in the parlor for the wedding ceremony says Mr. Robertson, and he is off. Preparing? The wedding ceremony? Now? Already today? And everything that goes with it? I'm scared and really need to process that

But I barely get time for that because then the girls introduce themselves to me, the youngest as Sophie and the oldest as Ann. My-Lady, can I offer you something? Ann then asks me and she points me to a table where a tray with sandwiches and a tea set are waiting. Looking at the clock I realize that it is already tea time and only now do I notice how hungry I am. I nod, after which she invites me to sit in the armchair by the table. I enjoy what is put in front of me, the sandwiches taste delicious. Meanwhile I look around, the room is beautifully decorated in yellow and white colors, different seats, the dressing table, an immensely large bed on which a white dress is ready. Beautiful, but just like the carriage and the hall below, everything is perhaps just a little too lavish.

After I have eaten enough, the girls help me out of my dress and while we have been brought up very prudish at home, I am undressed here without a word being said until I am completely naked. I'm not ashamed of my body, I'm not tall, I have a slim body thanks to riding a lot and luckily I don't have overly large breasts. But to show all that to everyone just like that

But the girls don't seem to be surprised, Ann helps me into a bath and it feels like all the travel troubles are slipping away from me. It is wonderfully warm, it smells of herbs and bath salts and enjoying myself I sink into it until only my head is above the water, while when I move a bit my breasts and nipples can be seen now and then, which are now hard and be stiff. For some reason it turns me on a bit that these two chambermaids are watching and I happen to see them smooching each other for a moment

Intimate hair

After ten minutes of wonderfully quiet soaking, Ann comes to me and asks me to get out of the bath. A little embarrassed, I stand up, completely naked again visible to the girls who watch me carelessly. As I stand next to the bath, Ann wraps me a soft cloth and asks: my-Lady, Master Robertson considers personal hygiene to be of the utmost importance. That is why he has requested that we completely shave your intimate hair and then give you a warm oil massage. . I don't think it's really getting through to me: intimate hair? I ask just to be sure. Yes, my-Lady means the hair around your femininity and in your armpits.

Mummy used to say the commons have no manners, but this seems to be the other way around, I've never heard anyone talk about hygiene or intimate hair in the beau monde. But to be honest, I don't think it's such a good idea for those girls to touch my body, so I refuse. MLady, I'm afraid you have no choice in this matter Ann continues imperturbably. Master Robertson has been very clear with us and to avoid getting into trouble I kindly ask you to cooperate.

It's starting to dawn on me that I'm really bought and have nothing more to say about myself. But we'll see about that later, I will now cooperate in order not to cause these girls any unnecessary trouble, but I will have to have a good conversation with my husband, who he will soon be.

The youngest chambermaid Sophie takes my wedding dress from the bed and hangs it on a clothes hook, then spreads another dry cloth over the bed and invites me to lie down on it. At the same time she takes the towel that I got wrapped around me after the bath and has no choice but to obey her and lie naked on the bed.

My-Lady, would you please raise your arms? asks Sophie, who apparently took this on herself. I'm more than ashamed that I'm looking like this and I think it's best to close my eyes and experience it like this. Then I put my arms above my head, realizing that nothing is really hidden from these girls anymore. Because I have closed my eyes I am surprised by a special feeling. Foam is applied to my armpits with a soft brush, after which I feel how I am carefully shaved completely smooth there, stroke after stroke.

Lost myself

I can't get over what's happening to me at all, it feels like I'm losing myself completely. Naked, watched from head to toe by two obviously curious chambermaids and now my body is doing things that I can't place at all. It feels like every stroke of the razor on my armpit goes straight to my girls slice as mummy used to call it with my sisters and me. I've had strong feelings there before, but mummy has always forbidden us to touch it, so now I don't recognize what's happening at all and I'm completely overwhelmed by it.

I can't help it, a small moan escapes me and when I peek through my eyelashes I see Sophie looking at me and smiling sweetly. Maybe I should ask her now and then, softly, almost in a whisper: What did you and Ann just discuss about me? Sophie's sweet smile again: that you are such a beautiful young girl and that Master Robertson likes it best. Immediately she puts her hand over her mouth, suddenly realizing that she's not just a girl for one night, but Mr. Robertson's future wife.

But future wife or not, I completely lose control of myself and quickly close my eyes again. After this Sophie continues to work in silence, when she is done with my armpits she pats them dry and rubs some oil over them. And then: Erm, sorry my-Lady, would you please spread your legs? I open my eyes more open than open, is she serious? And then I shake no, it really ends here.

Please, maam, sorry, please, I can't get rid of your hair there otherwise.

Even before this also gets through to me, Ann takes action. Sorry mLady, Master Robertson is expecting you downstairs in an hour, this needs to be done really quickly and at the same time she puts her hands under my knees, pulls them up firmly, and without a second's hesitation she takes me all the way unfolds, pressing my legs wide apart on the bed.

Please Sophie, hurry-up is her only comment afterwards.

Now I really can't do anything else than close my eyes, I would prefer to be dead now. Slowly but surely it becomes clear to me that I really have nothing more to say about my life or about my body or about anything and now I can do nothing but undergo it.

And so I lie there, naked, open, stripped of all decorum, watched by people I don't know while a complete stranger soaps the most intimate part of my body.

And when a little later the razor starts to do its job there too, I explode

Dear readers, thank you for reading this story again.

And of course thanks for the comments on Nichtjes Vuurwerk and really, there will be a sequel. So sorry Walter, thanks for offering to write the sequel but honestly it's already in my head and in a while it will come out

And SteveHux, thank you too for offering to help me publish. Maybe one day I will use it, but for now it is enough for me to write only for this nice website. X. Zazie