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Cucumber Hall
Date: 9/9/2015, Categories: Historical, Author: steffanie, Rating: , Source: LushStories
Postlethwaite came upon me, I feared my maiden flower would be taken by force, my bold conduct had enraged him all the more and mere words were no longer a defence. I lost my parasol first, and the same pillaging hands that knocked it to the ground, next pulled down upon my dress, until not a single wisp of fabric covered my bare bosom. "There," he said, "you make a better whore than lady." "You have shamed yourself, not I," I said. "A shilling to have you," he said. "You disgust me," I said. "Then I shall have you for free, before every other man does." "Never." I cried, and raised my right fist in defiance. "Marianne, Marianne," my voice screamed out, I refused to be disgraced and would fight with the selfsame heart that the bare breasted lady for liberty possessed - Marianne, the French Marianne, and I did not care a hoot if my battle cry sounded like treason. Right is right, be you English or French and I hurled myself at Postlethwaite with all the fury of a banshee. "God damn you," he said, and threw me to the ground, but not before my flashing nails had marked him as a scoundrel who would abuse a small woman. "You belong in the madhouse," he said, "I bid you good riddance." Thus Mr William Postlethwaite abandoned me on the moor, he ran from the field with a hand to his face thinking heaven knows what. I had no need to care, I had won my Tralgalgar, only my HMS Victory wouldn't be sailing anywhere - except to Hazel's house. "Muff with muff," how she made me laugh with ...