The Duchess

Ahhhhhh!' she shrieked as he rammed himself into her cruelly. His mouth mashed down upon her lips, kissing her hungrily, his tongue stabbing at her tongue as she struggled not to gag. She realized almost immediately that if she didn't exhibit a measure of enthusiasm he was not going to be satisfied. She groaned beneath him, her nails raking down the broad back beneath his shirt. She wrapped his torso about with her legs. 'Oh, yes,' she murmured into his ear. 'Oh, yes, Reynaud! Do it to me hard!' And he did.

He grunted, and sweated over her body. The walls of her love sheath seemed to grasp him tightly, and he howled with his lust. He could feel her full breasts beneath his chest, their nipples hard as little iron points. Then his excited desires burst, and he was angry for a moment until he realized that he had an entire night ahead of him. He was going to suckle and bite those breasts until she screamed with both pain and pleasure. He was going to make her suck him to another stand, and then he was going to put himself into her rosette. That was something he knew his brother had never done, but he would do it. And she would love it, he was quite certain. He had always wanted Anne-Marie. Now she was his slave for as long as he desired her. He did not think he would grow tired of her too quickly. But when he was, he would sell her to a madame he knew in Harfleur, and dispose of her children exactly as he had planned to do. The boy would go first to the army, and the girl would serve her apprenticeship in Paris. But not, perhaps, before he violated her as his father had once violated his mother. Now that would be true revolutionary justice! He laughed aloud with his silent thoughts, and the woman beneath him trembled at the evil sound.

***

That she had lived through what was undoubtedly the worst night of her life amazed Anne-Marie d'Aumont when she awoke the following morning. Reynaud d'Aumont lay snoring like a pig next to her. He had violated and degraded her in ways she had never imagined. She crept from the bed, aching and sore all over. Finding a pitcher of water in the warm coals of the fireplace, she attempted to wash his filth from her flesh. She doubted that she could ever erase the memories, but if it would save her children she would do it all over again. As clean as she could be she dressed swiftly, and escaped from the room, hurrying down the stairs to the kitchen where her children were waiting to see her.

'Maman!' they cried.

Then Marie-Claire, aged twelve said, 'What is the matter, Maman? Why did Papa's valet eat with you last night, and then remain?'

'Monsieur Reynaud is now the new owner of Le Verger,' she began slowly.

'Le Verger is mine,' Jean-Robert cried indignantly. 'My uncle is the bastard. I am the true heir.'

'Non, mon bebe. Le Verger is now Monsieur Reynaud's. So the revolution has ruled. We are going to England soon, to my uncle's home in London. Ohh, you will like London, mes enfants. And Therese and Celine will come with us, Jean-Robert. Won't that be nice?'

'The English are our enemies,' the boy said stonily

'Grandpapa was English, Jean-Robert. You arc named for him,' she reminded her son gently.

'Stupid boy,' his sister said. 'Monsieur Reynaud has stolen Le Verger, and there is nothing we can do about it.'

'I will go to the king,' the boy responded hotly.

'There is no king, Jean-Robert,' his sister reminded him. 'Not anymore. They cut off his head just the way they did to Papa.'

Jean-Robert began to sniffle.

'Marie-Claire,' her mother scolded her, but she knew her daughter was being practical.

'When are we going?' the girl asked.

'Soon,' her mother promised her. Then she turned to her maid, Celine. 'Take the children to Pere Andre for their lessons,' she instructed the younger woman. 'Do not come back for a while.'

'Oui, madame,' Celine said, understanding. 'Allons, mes enfants.' She led the two children from the kitchens.

'I have hot water,' Therese said. 'I have filled the little oak tub in the pantry. Go and bathe, madame. Get the stink of that beast off of you now, or you will never get it out of your nostrils.'

The comtesse flushed. 'You know?'

'I know that dog, Reynaud, madame. You did what you had to do to protect the children, but do not trust him.'

'I do not. Ahh, Therese, I am so ashamed.' And she began to weep softly.

'It is he who should be ashamed,' Therese said fiercely. 'I would kill him if I thought I could keep us all safe, but nowadays one does not know who one's friends are, madame. Go and bathe now.'

The Comtesse d'Aumont washed herself thoroughly, and when she had finished she felt much better. She sat down and ate the boiled egg and the fresh bread that Therese had prepared for her, sipping at a cup of watered wine. She had no sooner arisen from the table when there came a pounding upon the front door of the house. 'I will get it,' she said to the cook whose hands were all floury, and she hurried upstairs to answer the ferocious pounding. Opening the door the Comtesse d'Aumont found herself facing a group of peasants.

'We have come for the Comtesse d'Aumont and her brats,' said the obvious leader of the group, a woman who wore an eye patch over her left eye.

'I am the Comtesse d'Aumont,' Anne-Marie quavered, her heart beginning to pound furiously.

'We have been sent to take you to Harfleur, Citizeness. Your children, too,' the woman said. 'Where are the men who are supposed to be guarding you? Heads will roll for this infraction of the rules!'

'The guards went back to St. Jean Baptiste yesterday when Monsieur Reynaud, the head of the Committee for Public Safety arrived. He is here now, but he is still sleeping,' she told them.

'Where?' demanded the woman.

'Upstairs,' the comtesse said. 'Will you not come in?'

'Madame,' the leader said softly, 'do not be afraid. We have come to rescue you. We carry a letter from your uncle, Lord Bellingham. This is but a charade.' Honor handed the comtesse the small message. She opened it, and the relief upon her face was palpable.

'This is a miracle,' she whispered.

'Who are these ruffians, madame?' Therese had come up from the kitchen, a large carving knife in her hand.

'There is not time to explain, Therese. Whatever happens, do not be afraid. It is all right, and I will tell you as soon as I can,' Anne-Marie d'Aumont said in low tones. 'They have come to rescue us.'