Page 18 of Pride, Prejudice & Wicked Pleasure

“I am glad, though I surely would not have faulted you for being shocked and appalled. Too many of us shun that which is most natural in man and beast. The lack of understanding is astonishing and makes what ought be beautiful something to fear or scorn. I can recall all too well the wedding night of my first marriage. I was so overcome with fright, for my mother had impressed upon me nothing but that it would be painful and something I had to suffer as a good wife, that death would have been easier to face.”

Despite the delicacy of the topic, Lizzy felt just comfortable enough to ask, “Was it painful or…did you come to accept it without grief or fear?”

“I came to enjoy it. It is the most marvelous of things, the enjoyment of which does not fade with time or frequency of use. Granted, the first time was awful. I felt as if my body would break in twain. The pain subsided in subsequent encounters, and I discovered that pleasure could be had in congress. But it was not until I had met and married dear Mr. Trenwith that I learned that other forms of pleasure can be derived.”

Lizzy noted how Abby’s eyes shined even brighter as she spoke.

“Other forms?” Lizzy ventured, her pulse quickening.

“There are many facets to pleasure, including forms that one would not think to associate with pleasure. But I find, the more wicked and wanton the nature of the act, the greater my arousal.”

Abby paused, and Lizzy felt the woman’s study upon her. She drew in a breath to steady herself before saying, “There is a scene in Fanny Hill that involved flogging.”

“Yes! What think you of that passage?”

“I found it rather strange at first,” Lizzy said carefully at first, then wondered at the need for caution before a woman who was as candid as Mrs. Trenwith. And though she could not be certain that her hostess was the epitome of discretion, Lizzy felt a sudden and desperate need to confide in this most extraordinary woman. For certain, she would never again meet a similar woman.

“But upon further contemplation of it, I found it…titillating,” Lizzy confessed and was surprised that her show of boldness produced little reaction from Abby, who poured another cup of tea as if Lizzy had remarked upon nothing more than the state of the weather.

“And did you envision yourself as the one wielding the flogger or the one receiving the lashes?” Abby asked.

It was easily the most outlandish—and provocative—question Lizzy had ever been asked.

“I myself favor both roles,” Abby supplied when Lizzy could make no response. “There is a world of possibilities in the venereal realm, but our society relegates the exploration of it to a hedonism unworthy of attention. But I believe the suppression of the virtues of the flesh can be injurious. These natural urges in us all ought not be condemned as vices to be ashamed of. You may have heard that activities of a suspect nature occur here, and that is because I invite anyone who wishes to broaden their experiences to do so here in the safety of Trenwith House.”

Lizzy could hardly believe her ears. The gallery and views of Mrs. Trenwith were scandalous enough, but she had made a public practice of her beliefs?

“Make no mistake, Trenwith House is not a brothel. It is a sanctuary where men and women can embrace the carnal and explore all manner of pleasure. I am quite selective with my guests. As you can imagine, exposure would only earn them contempt and derision, thus my guests are beyond discreet, and their appreciation enforces their confidentiality.”

This was a charitable endeavour of sorts? Lizzy wondered.

“I have also been blessed with the most loyal of servants. None better can be found.”

As Lizzy tried to absorb the intelligence that Abby had revealed, she stayed upon a safer topic. “I imagine such loyalty is earned.”

“I am not so humble to claim otherwise, but their situations prior to being at Trenwith House did lend an opportunity to win their devotion. Sally, the maid who assisted you, had worked in a brothel in the parish of St. Giles in London. She had been a slave to a brutal man who often beat her, but he had taken her with him to England, unaware that she would be free upon setting foot on English soil. She fled from him but had neither any funds nor skills to improve her situation. I came upon her in a gutter where she had fainted after subsisting on bread and water for a fortnight.”

Abby told the story without the slightest hint of pride or satisfaction and with a sternness that suggested any compliment would be most unwelcome. Lizzy was convinced that the profane and the glorious could reside in one bosom. She believed Abby acted from a genuine concern for her fellow man. That her good deeds earned her contempt rather than praise among people like Lady Catherine only reinforced Lizzy’s belief of Abby’s altruism; and even that which others would dub profane or lewd possessed qualities of compassion and humanity.

A flash of lightning followed by the roar of thunder turned both their attentions.

“Goodness! You cannot walk back in this storm,” Abby said.

“I should dearly like to finish the task we had begun yesterday,” Lizzy said, knowing that Abby would offer the carriage. “That was my intention irrespective of the present weather, and perhaps by the time we are done, the storm will have abated.”

“You are a dear! Well, I would be a fool to decline such able assistance and am delighted to have your company a little while longer.”

They finished their tea and returned to the library, where everything was just as it was. They worked in relative silence for a length, but Lizzy could not temper the agitation that had taken a hold of her during their earlier tête-à-tête. Her mind replayed their discussion over and over, and she felt the significance of it all in every bone.

“I envisioned myself receiving the lashes,” she admitted.

Abby looked up and smiled. “At Trenwith House, we employ an enjoyable institution that supports the tendencies of one to be the wielder or the receiver. We dub the former dominants, and the latter submissives.”

Lizzy stared at the book she held in her hands, but her focus was blurred by the reeling of her mind.

“And for those new to such forms of play, I offer instruction,” Abby continued.

“The first ‘lesson’ in a Trenwith education is to foster an understanding of your own body.”