Lady Catherine and her maid trotted their horses through the mist which enveloped the Phoenix Park. She rode with the poise demanded of the Anglo-Irish aristocracy. Despite the brutal murder of Lord Frederick Cavendish, the British Cabinet minister with responsibility for Irish affairs and his chief civil servant, Thomas Henry Burke only a few months previously in the summer of 1882, Lady Catherine was not afraid. She had ridden her horse through the Park every day for the past five years and no Fenians were going to stop her. She had been left a sizeable fortune when her father, the 16th Duke of Westford had died in a duel. Her mother had died during childbirth and she and her brother had grown up in the large rambling house with an absentee father, raised by a nanny and a succession of housekeepers. Her brother inherited the title and the lands in County Laois while she preferred to remain independent, living in her late father’s Dublin residence.At the age of twenty-five, she was aware that society expected her to marry. A woman could not be independently wealthy, but as long as she was the ward of her brother, it was acceptable for things to carry on as they were. Lady Catherine had absolutely no intention of marrying. Her proclivities lay in the opposite direction.Once back in her house overlooking St Stephen’s Green, her maid, Jayne carefully removed her Ladyship’s riding cloak and hat. Catherine shook out her long dark tresses and unbuttoned the fastener at the top of her blouse. “I will take a sherry in the drawing-room, Jayne,” she ordered as she walked off, pulling the blouse out of the waistband of her skirt. When Jayne entered a few minutes later, Lady Catherine was sprawled on the divan chair, with the bodice unbuttoned, her firm breasts and red nipples uncovered and her skirt pulled up around her hips.Without a word, Jayne placed the glass of sherry on the occasional table by her Lady’s side and dropped to her knees. As Catherine sipped at the sherry and moaned appreciatively, Jayne dragged her fingers up the woman’s thighs. She pulled down the silk undergarments and greedily ran her tongue around Catherine’s dripping pussy. Horse riding always made her Ladyship horny. She’d told Jayne once that if the world only consisted of women and horses, she’d be happy. Jayne rolled her tongue around Catherine’s clit as she ran her fingers through the generous tuft of dark almost black curls. They contrasted so beautifully against her pale porcelain white skin. The dark pink of her flower opened for Jayne as she smeared her thumbs over the lips and the maid could see the rivulets of white creamy juices oozing out of her already. She lapped and licked, thrusting her tongue inside like a tiny cock while Catherine gripped Jayne’s short blonde hair hard and pulled her in deeper. Jayne rhythmically sucked and licked, knowing her Ladyship was close. With a strangled cry, Catherine arched her back and squeezed her thighs around Jayne’s head. Jayne felt her hair being pulled out by the roots as her face was pulled in deeper. Finally, when Catherine had stopped spasming on the chair, she opened her thighs and Jayne dropped back onto her heels.Jayne licked her lips, stood up, curtseyed and asked if that would be all. Catherine dismissed the girl with a wave of her hand and took Şerifali Escort another swig of the sherry. ‘It was so unfair,’ Catherine thought. ‘If she was a man, she could go to her club now, spend the evening drinking and gambling, then go to the house of her mistress and be back home for breakfast and everyone would look at her as a pillar of the community. Instead, she had to skulk around, always wary of visitors. She was a strong believer in female suffrage and had been enchanted by the thought of votes for women but had been dismayed by the lack of progress. She thought there must be something more effective than writing letters. She had great hopes in Emily Pankhurst who was just starting to make waves in London.She was just mulling this point when Jayne entered to inform her that Lord Rotherham had called to visit. While Catherine swore, Jayne helped her get dressed again and look presentable.Lord Rotherham was an old friend of her father, the 15th Duke of Westford and had made his feelings towards Catherine clear on more than one occasion. The thought of his greasy, slimy hand pawing under her skirt was a feeling she never wanted to experience again.She opened the silver cigarette case and had just taken the first sweet drag when Lord Rotherham waddled breathlessly into the room. The man reminded her so much of a pig. The spare rolls of flab around his neck were a precursor to the larger rolls around his belly and thighs. The straining buttons on his waistcoat bore testimony of that.“You really shouldn’t smoke, Catherine,” he panted breathlessly. “It’s very unladylike.”Catherine arched an eyebrow but bit her tongue. She looked at the sheen of sweat on his forehead. While she was wealthy, she knew she would be easy pickings for the likes of Rotherham if her brother wasn’t there to protect her and she knew she didn’t need this man as an enemy.“I was going to call down and see your brother, the Duke.”Catherine merely blew a smoke ring rather than question if she had other brothers she didn’t know about that required him to clarify that it was the Duke he was going to see. Instead, she merely nodded and asked his Lordship to pass on her warmest greetings and she hoped she’d see him at the end of season ball next month. Lord Rotherham took her hand and kissed it, his thumb smearing his sweat over her fingers.“You know Catherine, I was a very good friend of your father’s and I’m sure he would be troubled at the thought of you living here alone in Dublin. I really think you should consider marriage. I’ll talk to your brother about it.”Catherine felt a cold chill of disgust wrap around her heart as Lord Rotherham bid adieu and left the apartment.“I hope his carriage bumps the whole blessed journey,” she swore as she looked out the window and watched him climb into the shiny black carriage being pulled by two horses. It usually took around six or seven hours to get to their ancestral estate which was beyond the Pale and was one of the reasons Catherine tried to make the trip home as seldom as possible.Two days later, she was awoken by a loud banging at the front door and could hear her name being called from outside. She had just pulled on her robe when a flustered Jayne arrived to tell her that there was an urgent message from home. Şerifali Escort Bayan Without bothering to get dressed, she followed Jayne to the drawing-room.“Lady Catherine, I’m so sorry.”She recognised the man twisting his cap in apology as Sean, one of the footmen in her brother’s household. When he told her that her brother had been shot and badly wounded in a hunting accident, she clasped her hand to her mouth and staggered backwards into the chair. After a stiff drink, she ordered for a carriage to be readied and that she would leave for Laois as soon as it was ready. Jayne departed to pack for the journey while Sean said he would drive the carriage and get Lady Catherine to her brother as quickly as possible.The journey seemed to take forever. She stared out at the bleak expanse of damp Irish countryside through the window of the carriage. Jayne had tried to engage her in conversation as a means of distracting her from her thoughts but Catherine found herself lapsing back into a brooding silence after only a few minutes.The sun was almost setting behind the distant hills as they rode through the village near the estate. Catherine knew they were almost home when she recognised the tiny church and the narrow street of houses grouped together.As they clattered over the bridge, Catherine glanced down at the stream that marked the boundary of the estate. She saw a woman wearing a long grey cloak washing a blood-stained shirt in the water. The woman glanced up as the carriage passed and Catherine found herself staring into the greenest pair of eyes she had ever seen. The woman had a mass of red curls which framed a pale drawn face. They locked eyes for only a second before the woman bowed her head again and continued with her washing. Catherine wondered what had happened to create so much blood as the water around the woman was a vivid red.She was distracted however as the carriage slowed to a stop. She heard the voices of her brother’s staff poured down the steps from the house to welcome them and to help them unload.The housekeeper, Mary, was first to greet Catherine as she stepped down from the carriage.“Oh, my dear Catherine. That we should meet again under such tragic circumstances,” she began before Catherine cut her short.“He’s not dead, is he?”“No, my dear, he’s not. Not yet, but best prepare yourself. We fear it’s only a matter of time.”Catherine nodded and together they walked into the house while Jayne supervised the unloading of the luggage and directed it to their rooms.Catherine stood in her brother’s room. It was the same room she’d stood in watching her father die. Her brother lay asleep on the bed. He looked pale and drawn. The doctor was not able to give her much more information than Sean had already told her this morning. There had been a shooting accident and he had been shot in the stomach. All they could really do was make him comfortable. Catherine decided she needed a drink and headed to the drawing-room where she knew her brother kept his drinks cabinet.Lord Rotherham rose from an armchair when he saw Catherine enter the room.“My dear Catherine. It’s so hard to believe so much has changed in so little time. If there is anything I can do to help, you only have to say the word.”Catherine found she was too numb Escort Şerifali to stop him when his fingers caressed her waist as he pressed himself against her. The housemaid, Maeve, interrupted them by bringing her a glass and the decanter of sherry so she sat down on a sofa and watched the crackling fire, staring into the flames. Lord Rotherham was talking in a hushed voice to the doctor who had come into the room and Jayne was discussing arrangements with Mary, the housekeeper. Maeve had picked up the tray and was heading back to the drinks cabinet.“Tell me,” she asked the room in general as she sipped her sherry. “Was there trouble with the Fenians recently? I saw a washerwoman trying to get bloodstains out of a shirt down at the stream as we entered the estate.”There was a loud crash and she looked around to see that Maeve had dropped the tray she was carrying and the sherry decanter lay shattered on the floor. She had her hand over her mouth and was shaking. Catherine stood up and took the couple of steps necessary to take hold of her.“Are you alright? You look like you have seen a ghost.”The girl was trembling and Catherine waved Lord Rotherham and the doctor away. She led the girl to sit down on the sofa.Maeve’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Did the woman have red hair, Ma’am?” Catherine nodded.“Do you know her? Is she mixed up with the Fenians?”Maeve slowly shook her head.“She’s a banshee, Ma’am. She washes the clothes of those who are about to die. Then, once she begins her wailing cry, then the master will die.”A chill wrapped itself around Catherine’s heart. There must be something they could do. She looked at Rotherham, sure that he had taken a step closer, grinning at the thought of her brother about to die and leave Catherine vulnerable and alone.“We have to stop her. If she doesn’t cry, then my brother doesn’t die? Yes?”Maeve looked at the ground and slowly shook her head. “You can’t stop her, Ma’am,” she whispered. “She’s not from this realm. She’s a fae. A fairy woman.“Don’t be ridiculous.” Rotherham laughed contemptuously. “There’s no such thing as fairies. It’s all bumpkin and superstition. These potato eaters are just a bunch of unsophisticated savages.”Maeve’s face coloured but the girl was smart enough not to contradict the oafish Lord. Instead, she bit her tongue and sat meekly by Catherine’s side.Catherine closed her eyes. Her brother was ten years older than her and she often felt they were living separate lives but he was the only family she had. Despite her scorn of religion, she found her fingers clasped together in prayer as she asked for help.She opened her eyes, took Maeve’s hand in hers and stood up, pulling the girl up with her. She led her out of the room, away from Rotherham and prying ears.“Maeve,” she whispered, as she glanced around the hallway to check they were alone. “I’ve got to go and find this banshee woman. I’m going to beg her to let my brother live. Perhaps she will listen to reason. He can’t die. I will be defenceless against Rotherham if he dies.”“It was Rotherham that shot the Master, Ma’am.” Maeve blushed despite her pale pallor. “We were told not to say anything about it to you.”With a cold dread, Catherine realised she wasn’t even surprised at his attempt to force himself upon her. The thought made her stomach churn. “You have to help me. I need a cloak and a lantern. I have to get to her before she begins this wailing cry.”Maeve nodded and led her into the scullery. There she found a dark green travelling cloak which Catherine pulled over her red dress. Maeve lit the kerosene lamp and handed it to her.