31. The Barthomleys

For a simple tea it seemed almost as formal as the Grand Ball. Of course, in this society these sorts of occasions are often that way.

This was our first proper meeting with the Barthomleys. James had not formally asked for Hermione's hand in marriage at the ball as she expected. Not that she was unduly worried about that, the ball had been a huge occasion and there had been little chance for something like a proposal. Now we got to sit down and talk with William and Eugenie, and understand what they wanted from the relationship between the two young people. For myself, what I wanted to know was how Hermione would benefit from the arrangement.

James was there of course, but he might not have been for all the good it did, his eyes were only for my sister, and while she was absorbed in him, she was able to participate in the conversation without the appearance of 'dragging' herself away from something.

Eugenie Barthomley was dressed very smartly in a rich red dress, startling in a house where all of the women are wearing black or mourning shades. It was not, I think, intended as an affront to the house, it was simply, I believe, a choice that had been made. Certainly, I don't think Helena took it as an insult. But it did make me reconsider Mrs Barthomley.

I suppose I had looked at her at the ball and ticked her off as merely a 'wife'; assigning her no other role, other than as mother of his children and lesser partner. She was pretty, quite well shaped, and she had a voluptuous sensuality that was quite attractive. The red of her dress emphasised the creamy swell of her bosom, of which there seemed to be quite a lot. But I realised that she also had a hard edge to her eyes and a firm set to her mouth.

Hermione was not going to have it all her own way with that one.

As I first noted at the ball, when I first met William Barthomley, it felt like he was continuously valuing his surroundings. The arms and armour in the entrance hall, the family portraits, even the furniture as we sat down, his eyes were everywhere. I would not have been surprised if he had picked items up to inspect them.

"May I ask, then William, what it is that you do?" I asked Mr Barthomley, while the women were talking about the quality of the cloth in Mrs Barthomley's dress.

"We started out as millers, Your Grace, flour millers." I nodded, "But then when my father died, I diversified and went into iron and steel making. The wars with the French have been most lucrative for us, but there are other demands for metals such as the growing canal network and the industries that it serves."

"About that," I asked, "At the ball, you mentioned that you had been offered an opportunity to invest, pray, what was that about?"

A scowl crossed his face. "That might have been a good deal, if not for rumours about the justices.

"The man Fellowes suggested that there were deals - investments - to be made as part of a consortium buying up land for the canal trunk, and then selling it on to the canal company."

"But surely Fellowes was part of the canal company, would that not be like selling his land to himself?"

Mr Barthomley looked at me, almost like one would when explaining something to a child. "It is sometimes done in business, perhaps it would be better to think of it as making the most of one's profits, Your Grace."

Given the opportunity and the constraints of the occasion, I would have preferred to have spent an evening playing cards with Mr Barthomley, I feel that you learn so much more about a man that way, but already I had a strong impression of him.

Some commentators in the newspapers have described members of the emerging business classes as rude, nouveau riche with no manners or social graces, who only exist for their own avaricious growth. To many people they were comparable with the howling mob that had swept through France, during the revolution. I suppose that there are people like that out there who would see the world mined, processed and sold off to enrich themselves. I feared that William Barthomley might be that way inclined, he certainly had a great deal of that attitude.

However, I have also read that some people - some of these 'industrialists' - look past this and would see their fellow men uplifted off the back of what they themselves have achieved. Whether this was because of their religious beliefs or just their better nature, I do not know. For myself, I see such things as an extension of my role as duke - I have a responsibility to the people under me, who depend on me, to do the best for them, if I can make their lives better by my actions, then that is what I feel I am obligated to do.

The biggest issue here would be dropping my little sister into the world of the Barthomleys. She would, as she had suggested 'bring class to an otherwise vulgar brawl', and part of me thought that it would be them and their ilk that got the worst of it. But I feared it would be a high hill to climb, and I resolved that I would do what I could to make it easier for her.

The first part of that task was made easier by James Barthomley standing up, bowing in my direction and asking if he might humbly ask for my sister's hand in marriage (polite round of applause and positive noises from the assembled tea-party).

I suppose that I might have brought a slight chill to the proceedings when I told the young man that I would consider it. I suppose that it had been thought to have been a done deal, certainly all present expected it to be so, but though the tone of the afternoon was less convivial after my decision, I was certain in my own mind that it was the right way to approach this.

For the rest of the afternoon, whenever I caught Hermione's eye, I could see the bloody-handed warrior-queen of my dream, glaring at me. She was not best pleased with her elder brother. I decided that it was time to excuse myself and go and see if Dr Locksley was still in the library.

He was not.

Instead, there was a note in the vicar's neat handwriting, thanking me for the access, and the conversation that we had had earlier.

I retired to my study, and it was there that Hermione found me some time later, presumably after the Barthomley's had departed.

It was easy to see that she was not impressed with my decision.

"Why, William? What do you mean by a few days?" She didn't shout, but her anger was clear, even with her level tone. "It's not as if you didn't know he was going to ask. Why do you need to 'consider it'?!"

I let my sister rant for a few minutes - I thought it best to do this - and she did rant.

"I have my reasons." I said simply.

I suspect that Hermione expected a fight, and not having one stopped her.

"You have reasons?" She exclaimed, "Well, perhaps you might explain them to the rest of us."

"Sit down, Hermione!" I said, abruptly interrupting her flow.

She sat down.

I explained that my decision was all about her. She was sceptical, it was all under control, she told me. She knew what she was doing.

"That may be your view," I said, "but I wanted to make sure of that before I assented."

"You have James wrapped around your finger I believe?" My sister nodded. "But do you have his mother under the same sort of control?"

Hermione stopped, and looked at me. "His mother?"

I nodded. "If you and James are to have your own lives, his mother is the one you have to conquer."

Now Hermione was listening. "What makes you say that?"

"Eugenie is a very fashionable woman, James's father less so, this I observed this afternoon. She has the latest fashions, and wears a small fortune in jewellery even for afternoon tea. She takes particular care of her looks and her physique, and she emphasises that in her attire. She is not simply a wife, Hermione, Mrs Barthomley is a force in her own right. If I were a betting man, I would wager that she is the one that drives Mr Barthomley onward, in the same way that you intend to drive James's career."

"If that is so, how does it affect James and I?"

"A woman like that would not simply let you be. She will be always interfering. I have met women like her before."

"And?"

"All I seek to do is give you a firm position. It was obvious from our conversation over tea this afternoon, that the Barthomleys see great advantage in your being the sister of a duke. They were mentally rubbing their hands at the possibilities." I told her. "Eugenie, in particular, seemed most enthusiastic about how they could go forwards after the wedding. I do not think that she would allow you - and James - to live your lives without constant interference. I would like you to be able to start your married life without having to fight your mother-in-law for everything. I think some boundaries need to be set, to free you up to live your lives your own way. By setting down my terms in a contract - which bind you as well - when Eugenie seeks to push back, she pushes back against me, and not you."

Hermione sat and thought for a few moments. "It would be better, would it not, if I were to prevail through my own efforts?" She asked.

"It would, I agree. Thus, your role in this, will be to charm her over to your side - rail against how your brother will not allow you to do such and such a thing, make her your great ally. I know you can do that. She will take your part against me, and support you. Use your wit and your guile to enchant her. Let her think your ideas are hers, so that she blesses your each and every endeavour."

"And then?"

"I will be seen to allow you more and more freedom. Until you stand where you want to be."

"And how long will all of this grand plan take?"

"Your wedding should, I believe, be a grand occasion, the dearly loved youngest sister of the Duke of Norton weds an emerging industrial power. It should be attended by the cream of London society. I understand that there are enough Barthomley's to fill their side of any church you choose."

"You wish to hold it as part of the Season?" Hermione's expression was one partly of disbelief and partly of delight.

"Why should we not? Would that be acceptable?" I said as I walked to the study door and turned the key in the lock.

Hermione watched me do this, her smile changing through sly to feline delight. "That would be more than acceptable, brother," she said.

"I suggest we leave my decision for a few days, then I will ask James and his family to attend," I said, as I sat down up the couch next to her. She reached up to undo my neck cloth.

"Once I have announced the decision, you can engage Mrs Barthomley to help you obtain the wedding of your dreams. The pair of you can work together to convince me." By now Hermione had unbuttoned my waist-coat and opened the neck of my shirt.

"That," I kissed my sister's throat, slim and white.

"Should," I slipped her dress off her shoulder, and pressed my lips against the curve of her neck.

"Get her firmly on your side." I said as I manoeuvred Hermione onto her back on the couch and lowered the decolletage of her dress exposing her small but beautifully formed breasts, which I had not seen a few days ago during our tryst in the summer house. Her nipples were dark, round and studded with long tips.

"Now! Doesn't this smell better than those musty old couches in the temple?" I asked.

Hermione nodded. "I was so angry with you, William," she told me, "I felt like you had suddenly denied me everything I had worked for." Her hand reached for my hardness, stroking it through the cloth of my breeches.

"You may rest assured," I told my youngest sister, "That there is little in the world that I would deny you, if it was in my power to grant it." I lowered my head to her breasts.

"Huhhhhh!" she breathed in sharply, as I tugged gently on her long nipple with my teeth. Hermione pulled me closer to her.

"What may I do to apologise?" She asked.

"An hour or two of this might be sufficient," I said laughing. "Though sadly, we don't have that luxury."

Hermione pouted her disappointment. "Then we should get to our business promptly," she said, pulling at her skirt and exposing her under-skirts.

"I hope one day, we shall get more than a hurried fuck," I said, as I drew her under-skirts up and away from her perfect jewel of a cunny.

"That's something I wish too." She agreed as I slid my own clothes off.

"Oh!" She started, as I moved on top of her. "Fucking is the best thing in life," she told me.

"I am told that it is very popular." I said as I entered her.

Hermione was ready for me, I think that her anger had aroused her, certainly I slid into her easily, filling her as her tight cunny closed on my aching prick. I paused for a moment, savouring the sensation.

My sister looked up at me, wondering was there something wrong. I leaned down to kiss her, so that she knew that there was nothing to worry about.

"It is so much better without clothes," she said, "There is so much more sensation! So many wonderful feelings!" She squealed.

There is something so arousing in watching Hermione's beautiful, innocent looking face contort with passion. Her eyes close, and her brows furrow as she concentrates on what she is doing. At times she even catches her lower lip between her teeth, she is applying herself so much, it is quite adorable.

Soon her sighs became words and she started to urge me on with a surprising array of vulgarities.

"Fill my cunt, William, fill me up with your jism!" I wondered whether I should allow Hermione to teach Helena some of her swear words. "Your cock is so fucking hard! I love this feeling! Oh God, it's so tight. I have never felt such a wonderful feeling!"

It was not a long tumble; I think both of us were far too ready for it. Although the opportunity came out of nowhere, we were both eager to engage in our licentious play.

I have always tried not to elevate one sister above the others, but Hermione, and her hitherto unspoken devotion to me, means that if I were to pick a favourite, it would likely be her. I resolved that one night I would take her to bed, and we would fuck totally nude. It was as this thought flitted through my mind, that I came inside her.

As I spent, shooting the cum up into her, Hermione shuddered to her own spend. The radiant smile that spread across her face was a beautiful thing.

"Leaving this to go and live with James will be such a tear. I would let you fuck me every day, if I could, and if mama would let me." She said impishly, as we dressed.

"What I would like to know," I asked. "Is where you learned to swear like that?"

The impish smile turned into a grin.

"One of the benefits of being the quiet girl, that nobody sees," she said, and it was true, as a child Hermione seemed to move about the house as if she was invisible. "I discovered the hay loft in the stables as a place to be alone when I wanted to be. But the stables below were also the place where the grooms and stable boys would take their conquests.

"I watched so many of them," she said.

"And you never felt inclined to engage, yourself?" I asked.

Hermione shook her long dark hair. "No." She was emphatic, "I told you the other day, that there was only one person for me."

I kissed my sister, grateful for her devotion.

"How was it that James took my place in your affections?"

Hermione gave me a withering look, as if to say 'Fool! He hasn't!'

"Charlotte and I were out in the landau one day in Regent's Park and he cantered past. The very next thing that I knew was that he had reined his horse about and walked beside us for a while. It was most strange." she said. "Being the girl that people normally do not see, and being next to Charlotte who is usually the only person that people do see, to have someone pay such ardent attention was most unsettling.

"James is an annoying twit at times, but I was flattered by his attention. He has many admirable qualities, and he is not unpleasant to look upon, which was something, but with you unavailable, after much reflection it appeared the best option."

"That doesn't sound calculating, at all." I remarked.

"Does it?" Hermione asked, "I suppose it does.

"I don't mean it to," she mused, "but when I considered my options - then James seemed to fit all of the categories that made him ideal for a suitor. And, well, I have come to like him. You will always be my first love, William, but James is an acceptable substitute."