She shivered in naughty anticipation, though she still did not want to disappoint her papa. He was such a good man and she ought to behave better. Determined to turn over a new leaf, she pulled her hand away from the moisture of her sex and rolled onto her side, closed her eyes and concentrated on falling asleep like a good girl. She counted sheep. She recited the alphabet backward, but nothing distracted her from the ache in her kitty.
It seemed she had no other reasonable option than to alleviate the urgency coursing through her and with a contented sigh she resumed her masturbatory activities with vigor. If she hurried, she could achieve her climax, change her nightgown and sheets, take a nap and meet Papa fresh and refreshed and still get an evening out at the theater.
The familiar coil in her core tightened and Cammie’s focus narrowed to the center of her pleasure, small fingers moved deftly over her clitty and slid in and out of the moisture of her kitty until she came in a triumphant spasm and collapsed against the mattress, panting to catch her breath.
Once she regained her composure, she rang for the laundry maid to bring fresh linens and a clean nightgown. Cammie had paid particular attention to the girl early in her tenure at Ashton Manor because she reminded Cammie of her friend Daisy back at Talcott House. And when it occurred to Cammie that access to clean laundry would make it easier for her to indulge in a forbidden behavior without leaving any telltale signs for her papa to find, she worked to cultivate the friendship further and often gave the girl a few coins which Cammie had saved from her own spending allowance.
When the door opened Cammie looked up expectantly only to see Papa walk in carrying a stack of linens with a fresh nightgown on top. The euphoria of her release vanished and Cammie’s heart sunk to her feet.
“P-papa,” she stammered, getting out of bed and rubbing her eyes as though she had just woken from a deep slumber, “how nice to see you. Have you finished your business for the morning?” She favored him with her most charming smile and hoped it would be sufficient to crack Papa’s stern demeanor. “Whatever are you doing carrying sheets? You look silly, Papa.” She giggled and attempted to take the items from him, but his hands held firm.
“Papa?” She looked up at him, eyes wide. “Why are you not answering me?”
Papa carefully walked to the bed and deposited the articles in his hands then turned to her. Cammie stared, heart pounding. She had never seen Papa act quite this way, even when she had done something exceptionally naughty.
“We will address your need for additional linens as well as your manipulation of the poor laundry maid in due time, but there is a more pressing matter I wish to discuss with you.”
How did Papa know about her reason for needing the linens? Or the laundry maid? Despite her efforts to appear placid, her eyes darted to the bed where a telltale circle of dampness dotted the sheet. And Papa had more pressing matters than addressing the fact that she had been touching her kitty...again?
This did not bode well for her backside. A hard lump formed in her tummy. She chewed her lip and Papa continued.
“I had an unexpected visitor this morning,” Papa said. “A gentleman by the name of Lord Grayson.”
Cammie remained silent. The name meant nothing to her and, not wishing to make matters worse for herself, she chose to stay quiet.
“Lord Grayson has recently married one of your friends from Talcott House— Hyacinth.”
Cammie gasped. “Cynny’s husband was here? Did she accompany him? Is he still below stairs? Oh, I would very much like to meet him and to see Cynny again. Did you invite them to dine with us soon?” Cammie’s trepidation vanished and she bounced up and down on her toes and clapped her hands with pleasure. “Did you meet Cynny? Is her husband handsome? Wait…” she paused to search her memory… “I thought she was to marry a man named Lord Kensington, but you said a Lord Grayson called upon you.” She tilted her head and looked at Papa with confusion. Papa reached into his pocket and handed her a calling card which confirmed it had been Lord Grayson who visited Ashton Manor.
“Did he say why she did not marry Lord Kensington?”
Papa held up his hands. “Camellia, no more. In time, I am sure you will be able to have all of your questions answered and I do expect we will become better acquainted with Lord Grayson and his bride. I found him to be a gentleman worthy of knowing and I am sure you would enjoy seeing your friend.”
“Oh, yes, Papa. I would. Very much.” Cynny! Oh, what delicious delight it would be to spend time with her dear friend, both of them married ladies.
“But first,” Papa reached into his coat and pulled out a letter, “I have a few questions for you.”
Cammie glanced at the letter and then stopped to stare. Was that her handwriting? The letter looked worn, as though it had been read and refolded numerous times.
“Papa,” she said, “I do not understand.”
“You will soon enough, my dear wife.” He handed her the letter and as she read the first few lines, a fiery blush engulfed her cheeks and just as quickly her face felt as though all color had drained from it. She swayed a bit on her feet. Is this what it feels like to faint?
“I should like for you to read this letter to me.”
Cammie gasped. “Papa! No. I could never do such a thing. ‘Tis too shameful.”
“If the words are too shameful to read to your husband, then they ought not to have been committed to paper in the first place. Let that be a lesson to you. One of many I expect you are going to learn this afternoon.”
Papa pulled up a chair and sat upon it, then nodded to her. “You may begin.”
Cammie’s bare toes wiggled on the carpet as anxiety rolled through her. She could not remember exactly everything she had said in the letter, but she knew it was naughty. Shamefully naughty.
She licked her lips and swallowed past the dry lump in her throat and commenced the reading of her own words.
“My dearest Hyacinth,” she said,
“Please speak up, Cammie, I cannot hear you.”
“Yes, Papa,” she said, dread swirling in her tummy. She cleared her throat and continued. “It was absolutely charming to hear from you. I apologize for not replying sooner, but my duties as Lady Cavendish are extensive and I am quite busy with household matters, balls and social calls, as a proper lady often is. However, as Lord Cavendish is away from home this morning attending to some of his many important duties, I am delighted that I finally have time to catch up on my correspondence.”
She glanced up at Papa. “You certainly sound like a busy lady,” he said. “Funny that I do not recall us attending any balls. Have you been going out without me?”
Embarrassed, Cammie looked at the floor. “No, Papa. I-I just wanted to impress my friends.”
“Hmm,” Papa said. “It would seem to me that the great benefit of friends is that it is not necessary to put on airs for them.”
“Y-yes, Papa,” she replied. “I should not have done that.”
“I agree. Please continue.” He nodded for her to keep reading.
“How are you and all my old friends at Talcott House? It seems ever so long since we have seen each other. Much has happened and I feel that it was ages ago when we were all spending time together in the gardens, though in fact it has only been a few weeks.”
Cammie sure wished she was back at Talcott House now. Her bottom clenched up, thinking about how this little session was likely to end.
“And now you are to be married too! How exceptionally lovely! I hope that we will be able to meet in person once you have married and left Talcott House. The door to Ashton Manor is always open to you and I hope you will not feel intimidated by my sudden ascension to the highest ranks of society as you will always be my own dear, Cynny.”
Hearing her words aloud, Cammie could not believe how snooty she sounded. She glanced from the letter up at Papa. “That does not sound very nice, does it?”