Story: Florence, Lady Cranwell. Chapter 7.

by Jackie J

The week prior to Lady Downton’s scheduled visit to Stoneleigh and after an aggressive and fulfilling ride across the estate Lady Downton dismounted and slapped the flanks of her mount and handed the reins to her stable girl. Lady Downton’s face flushed the stable girl giggled leading the lathered horse to its stall. The smoothing of her hand across the moist saddle indicating just how fulfilling her Mistresses ride had been.

Entering the rear of Downton hall Lady Downton’s maid Lucy stepped back and curtsied when her Mistress brushed past.

Snatching the mail from the stand in the hallway she stared at the distinctive envelope the crest of Cranwell Hall making her boil with suppressed anger. Not since she had been jilted by the heir to Cranwell some years before had there been any communication. Ripping open the envelope she sat and read the letter within. A wide grin grew across her face perhaps she would have her revenge for her betrayal after all.

The letter from Lady Catherine, the women who had promised the hand of her son, told how Jonathan had been deserted by his young wife and the love rival of Lady Downton. That she had never wanted her son to marry Florence and that perhaps at last she and Jonathan could be reunited, the letter inviting her to visit with Lady Catherine at her convenience.

Much had changed in the life of Mary since the bitter heartbreak of seeing her love married to another. Love is probably the wrong word Mary desired the union to take full control of her mummy’s boy and secure the wealth of his estate. But for his father’s intervention all would have gone to plan. Frustration, anger, rage had built to a crescendo that day, uninvited to the wedding, she stood by the church wall and watched that little princess take her place parading arm in arm in her flowing bridal gown with Jonathan. Jonathan on the other hand was glad to have escaped from his mother’s choice of bride; he knew the other side of Mary controlling, manipulative and at times aggressive. Florence was none of these things she was kind, loving and gentle all he desired in a companion for life.

Weeks passed beyond this union and the invite from her great aunt Isabelle to visit her, which was accepted, believing it could prove to be a welcome respite from her angst.  It turned out however to be much more than that.

Her great aunt was sympathetic, Lord Cecil, her husband, had left her many years before and taken a post with the East India company in some far-flung corner of the empire, anything to get away from her. Lady Isabelle had lived a solitary life, well not completely solitary but without a man or men in her life. She had overcome the bitter and twisted phase of her desertion and embraced a new life style behind the high walls and seclusion of Stoneleigh, a life style to which Mary was introduced. Mary spent some nine months at Stoneleigh and visited regularly after that. Whilst Isabelle had initially groomed and seduced her great niece it was soon Mary that was taking the lead in the relationship that developed. No different to how she had treated her male lover Mary became ever demanding of her aunt who found the aggressive control by this young woman, too erotic to resist and succumbed, actively encouraging the dominance of her until no encouragement was necessary.

With illness taking both her parents in quick succession and having to return to Downton, to manage affairs for a good deal of her time, Mary recruited her own keeper for her aunt to ensure during her absence she did not stray from the subjugated path that Mary had placed her on, a house keeper by the name of Miss Hutchings. Whilst outwardly retaining the trappings of status and wealth, Lady Isabelle Collingwood having no choice but to be held a virtual captive in her gilded cage becoming the Mistress of Stoneleigh in name only.

If Lady Catherine had known of the changes that had taken place within Lady Mary Downton’s life and even more so the truth of what was hidden behind the high walls of Stoneleigh, that Lady Isabelle was not only the great aunt but also now the captive trophy of the prospective new bride for her son, would she have sought to fulfil her fantasy at the expense of poor Florence? Probably not, but she didn’t know did she and in her mind all was proceeding well with her scheme.

Mary sat alone for a while then leaving the letter summoned Lucy her maid and had her strip her of her riding gear, bathe her then took her to her bed to be ravished by her. With Lucy gently suckling on her breasts in the afterglow Mary contemplated the opportunities of what had been presented to her in the letter. She had no interest in Jonathan, that boat had sailed long ago and her appetites had changed considerably in that regard, but Lady Catherine Cranwell?

Mary recounted her betrayal by that sanctimonious witch, the promise she made, how she reneged on that promise and the manner in which she did. She could have stood up to that doddering old fart of a husband of hers but no she chose to pretend there had been no such agreement, and cut her off not even inviting her to the wedding. Mary pushed Lucy away in her building angry and stood abruptly from the bed.

“Bring me my clothes girl.”

Dressed and sat at her desk with the letter in front of her, following its third reading, Mary penned a note accepting the invitation to visit Lady Catherine. She would be heading to Stoneleigh at the end of the week and would pass close by Cranwell, a route she had always avoided in the past. If nothing else she could gloat at the demise of her son’s marriage and oblivious to Florence’s actual fate establish what drove that pretty thing to leave Cranwell. Whilst Mary and Florence had never officially met that smug expression on the face of that bride leaving the church on Jonathan’s arm, whilst she stood unseen in the shadows of the trees, was etched deep in her memory, she would never forget that face.

Having spent the rest of the week brooding and given Lucy her instructions Lady Downton boarded her carriage wearing one of her finest dresses that she hated wearing, her days of being adorned in frills and lace not something that sat well with her new lifestyle but thought the occasion deserving.

The trip was long and tedious with two infuriating stops to rest the horses which delayed her progress. Turning from the roadway the sight of the entrance to Cranwell Manor stirred Mary’s memories; this all should have been hers.

 Lady Catherine awaiting and expectant of Mary’s arrival had also made a special effort in her attire. An understandable uncomfortable pleasantness was exchanged between the two ladies at first meeting and Lady Catherine escorted Lady Downton inside the manor.

Seated in the parlour Janet fussed serving tea and cake.

Beyond formalities and discussion of Mary’s journey Mary moved the agenda forward to the reason of her visit.

“I see nothing much is changed here at Cranwell Lady Catherine. I was sorry to hear about Jonathan's wife deserting him like she did. Florence wasn’t it, a commoner as I recall, family owned some land in the north? I never met her but a frail little thing, wasn’t she?

Catherine had to feign embarrassment like she would if Florence had really deserted her husband.

“O Mary yes a terrible business just took off, packed her trunks and left in the dead of night, where she is no one knows. A ghastly girl really, so embarrassing but good riddance I say, you know I wanted you for my son’s wife, you must still believe that Mary, you truly must. That woman had no breeding, like you say a commoner, I knew this would happen.”

Lady Catherine continued to spin her web of lies.

“But she is gone Mary do you still have feelings for Jonathan he is always talking about you, he knew he had made a mistake it was you he truly loved.”

Mary smiled admiring Lady Catherine’s dress and thoughts of what lay within its layers of silk and lace. Catherine was mature, no different to her aunt, probably the same age, and her gentle life having afforded a retained confident beauty belying her years, her hair still thick laying to her shoulders and framing her fine facial features.

Not changing the subject intentionally Mary sipped on her tea and looked into Catherine’s sparkling eyes.

“You look well Catherine, very well so no suitors for the widow of Cranwell, I would have thought such a handsome lady like you would not have been alone for long?”

Catherine hid her grimace well; being called handsome was not the complement she had sought when she had spent hours preparing herself for this visit.

“How kind of you to say Mary, but no I am happy with my own company but what about you still single I see. Jonathan is in the Crimea you know you may have read about him in the papers, quite the hero it seems a colonel now you know quite a promotion, the Prime Minister mentioned him in a parliamentary speech.”

Mary smiled to herself had they married there would have been no continuation of a military career she would have had him in her nightdresses a tamed house husband and she knew the mummy’s boy would have relished her dominance of him.

“A colonel, impressive, it must have been quite a shock for him his love running away from him like that whilst he was away, how did he take it he must have been quite upset to say the least.”

Catherine poured more tea.

“No, not at all I think he was expecting it they hardly spoke a very strained relationship. It was embarrassing for me, like I said he knew he had made a mistake not taking your hand, that woman was always in the shadow of the pedestal he placed you on. You must forgive him Mary for what he did, he knows now he was foolish to fall for her charms, why don’t you come out to see him with me, you were meant for each other.”

Mary felt like slapping the condescending cow talking to her like she was still the sweet thing she had portrayed herself to be those years ago. Pedestal indeed, his mother would never let anyone else share the pedestal she had put him on. Her little boy was of no interest to Mary she had moved on in more ways than one.

The more she looked at Catherine sat all pompous and serene in her fine gown, like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, extolling the virtues of her son, pretending the marriage of her son to Florence was none of her doing, the more she wanted her, humiliate her, make her regret her duplicity. She had tamed her aunt, although admittedly she was already of the persuasion, but a widow without love for a number of years Mary was confident her developed skills could have this woman wriggling between the sheets. And when her son returned, if it was true he still had feelings for her, she would have her Nancy boy and Cranwell after all.

Mary dabbed her lips realising she would need to appear a little more vulnerable to entrap her viper.

“What go to the Crimea Catherine, are they not still fighting, I would love to see Jonathan again but the thought of that travel and all those men I would be so afraid I must confess. I wish sometimes I was strong like you Catherine, I don’t know how you would convince me to go”

Catherine wrongly sensed that Mary would consider renewing her relationship with her son even after being so unceremoniously jilted and humiliated and hearing Mary would be fearful and afraid of travel, what a timid flower Lady Downton still is, her scheme was all coming together, or so she thought.

On leaving Cranwell two things perplexed Mary and played on her mind all the way to Stoneleigh. Jonathan was no coward but brave, heroic he was anything but? What had possessed him to lead that charge? Her other concern was why Lady Florence would desert him? She lived a life of luxury at Cranwell, wanted for nothing and despite what Lady Catherine had told her she understood that the two of them doted on each other?

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