The Virgin at Goodrich Hall

Excerpt From: The Virgin at Goodrich Hall

Letter to Lady Belfort from Lady Margaret, 24th of June 1803

Dearest Claire,

I am relieved to have received your latest correspondence announcing your happy marriage to Lord Belfort. From your letters, I can tell he is a pleasing husband and one whom you love beyond reproach. I am truly joyful for your happiness. I, myself, can only dream of finding a husband who will cherish me as yours does you.

I must confess, since my journey to London with my parents last month, I have found the life here rather dreary. While mother entertains ladies who are accompanied by their unwed daughters, I find I have little in common with the women and, in truth, find their company rather vexing.

I must take you into my tightest confidence by announcing I have heard of a club, which meets once a month at Goodrich Hall, a short carriage ride south of London. This estate, leased out by an unknown source, is known to permit its guests to do the wickedest of things! It is said to hold a masked ball on a different date each month, allowing patrons to attend and participate in mischievous undertakings, yet ensuring their identities remain hidden.

As you are my dearest friend, I will confess I have learned of the date for this month’s ball and have decided to attend. Please do not fret for my safety, as I will indeed wear a mask to ensure my reputation remains intact.

I hope you do not mark me irresponsible in my decision, but I fear this is something I must do. Gentlemen have begun to court me and none of them strike my fancy. Father’s patience is wearing thin with my lack of interest when it comes to finding a husband, and I know he will take matters into his own hands soon. Therefore, if I am to be wed to a man who does not ignite my passions as your husband does yours, I must seek to fulfil these passions elsewhere. It is my sincerest hope you will understand this.

I will write again soon.

Your dearest friend, Margaret.

* * * *

Goodrich Hall, 26th of June 1803

Margaret took a shallow breath, pulling her coat tighter against the chill that swept in as the door of her hired hack opened. In a hasty moment, she allowed her thoughts to go to a place of censure and doubt. She could do this. She wanted to do this, didn’t she?

Margaret shook her head, knowing she wanted this, more so, strangely, than she had ever wanted anything else in her life.

Taking the hand of the well—dressed footman, she descended the steps of the unsteady carriage. She gazed up at the sprawling estate house and knew there was a high chance she would encounter nobles she knew, or knew of, tonight. Yet, the idea of anonymity made her heart flutter with anticipation. The suggestion that others of her class shared the desire to express their carnal needs and interests made moisture flow to her cunt with arousal.

Yes, she was a lady of breeding and wealth, but she was not the naïve child her parents thought she was. She had never been reluctant to lean against doors or peer through narrow keyholes. Margaret knew far more than the average lady of nine and ten—tonight she planned to witness and experience it all first-hand.

Margaret nodded to the footman and approached the house. Her slippered feet moved silently against the stone steps as she ascended. Another footman opened the manor doors and she entered the now—deserted but well—used lobby. A vase of lilies sat on a side table, permeating the air with their sweetness, which masked the smoky odour of the few burning candles scattered about the room.

"May I take your coat, miss?"