I didn’t want to tangle with Mary at all. But I got lonely after Marjorie went off to Italy, and with Lavinia being so young, I would often talk to Mary in the late hours:
I told her things I’d never told anyone
“Yawn!” she’d reply
Then one night, she interupted me:
“Sir, can we not just go up to your bedchamber?”
“You silly goose, Mary, ” I replied, “Whyever would you want to clean up there this time of night?”
Then Mary broke down:
“Oh Master Paul! The other servants in town have been laughing at me!”
“Because all their masters have taken them to their bed. I’m the only one who hasn’t known her employer!”, she sobbed
“Well, Mary, if you ask me, they sound a pretty rum crowd. I’d join the local church group if I were you.”
Then Mary pulled her trump card:
“And they’re saying – you’re gay!”
“What?”, I replied, “Get across that table now!”
“Tee-Hee”, said Mary
It was a truly awful experience. Mercifully it was over very quickly.
I hoped that would be the end of the matter. But no, night after night, she’d be there in my bed, waiting for me, cake and all.
It was a joyless experience, Mary would never have the elegance and lithness of Marjorie. It simply made me miss her more.
I finally nipped it in the bud when Mary started wearing my wife’s things
And the multiple births didn’t help….
And Mrs Slag, laying claim to be Mary’s birth mother, cooled things down a lot:
She demanded Mary went on the Pill, and not to take advantage of “Grand Folk” again. I assume she meant me.
I think Mary has mixed feelings about being reunited with her mother. I for one, am overjoyed.
Next installment: Paul’s elation won’t last for long, Lavinia is still a cow and Marjorie – well, is just Marjorie.
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