It had never been love between Jimmy and Lady Anstruther, but the sex had been first-class.
She was the best thing that could have happened to an inexperienced twenty-one year old footman, a boy who was still a virgin despite the war and everything that had come since. He'd barely been at the house a week when she called him to her bedroom. When he got there, she was unabashedly naked, her body still taut and her breasts high despite her age. Jimmy never learned what that age was, although she seemed younger than Lady Grantham. Perhaps even under forty, although anything after about twenty-eight was indistinguishable to Jimmy.
"Jimmy," she'd said, on that first occasion, meeting his eye. Jimmy held her gaze. He was too frightened to look anywhere else. "It is Jimmy, isn't it? I do hope you're settling in well."
"Yes, milady."
"Anderson tells me you've got potential, but he's not certain about your work ethic. You must watch that. I've no time for anybody who doesn't try their very best."
"No, milady." Jimmy could feel himself blushing. He hoped she wouldn't notice.
"Of course," Lady Anstruther went on, her voice softening, "if there is anything in particular with which I can help, please don't hesitate to come to me. If you so desire. The choice is entirely yours, I'd never want you to think otherwise."
"Thank you, milady," Jimmy had said, and fled from the room.
He'd gone back, of course, again and again, and eventually, his inhibitions had gone the way of hers. Her Ladyship taught him everything, from the delights of continental kissing ("You must seduce me with your tongue, darling Jimmy, not attack me with it") to how it felt to have a warm mouth around his prick. She showed him how to touch a woman, where to press his fingers and ways to move inside her that would bring her to heights of moaning ecstasy.
Later, when Jimmy was more confident, Lady Anstruther shared more exotic pleasures. She liked sometimes to be tied up, to have Jimmy smack her arse with his hand or a hairbrush as she lay lashed to the corners of her four-poster bed. On occasion, she would do the reverse, tying Jimmy to the bed and bringing him joys he'd never known existed, teasing him with her mouth and her hands until he lay whimpering with need. She had a false prick, a column of polished wood she would push inside herself while she sucked Jimmy's prick or while Jimmy licked her, kissing her cunt as deeply as he kissed her mouth. Nothing was taboo for her. Even sodomy was occasionally on the menu, and she would position herself on all fours, her arse high in the air for Jimmy to plunder in a way that always seemed shockingly illicit to him, no matter how many times they did it. Once, and only once, they had reversed this position, Lady Anstruther kneeling behind him, penetrating him with her polished prick. It had been enjoyable, he couldn't deny it, especially when the wood made contact with some remarkable hidden place inside him, but it wasn't something he wished to repeat on a regular basis.
It was a remarkable time in his life, but Jimmy always knew it couldn't last forever. The house was a small one, the opportunities for career advancement next to nil. When Lady Anstruther announced her move to France, it seemed a natural time to make a break. Lady Anstruther had been disappointed—although not nearly so hysterical as Jimmy led Mr. Carson to believe in his interview—but she'd seen the need for them both to move on. They'd parted as friends, and Jimmy hoped they would stay that way. Later, when she had returned and his impulsive Valentine met with no answer, he decided to spend one of his afternoons off paying her a visit.
The staff hadn't changed much. Anderson the butler opened the door, a thin-faced, balding man with a perpetual scowl. "Jimmy," he said. Unlike Carson, he'd never insisted on the more formal "James", which, now that he thought of it, surprised Jimmy a little. Anderson was ramrod rigid and proper in every other regard.
"I'm here to see Lady Anstruther." Jimmy smiled.
"And she is expecting you?"
"She'll be pleased to see me." There was not a single doubt in Jimmy's mind. Anderson pressed his lips together, into at thin line, and said: "Wait here." Jimmy did. He stood in the foyer, almost Lilliputian compared to Downton Abbey's, looking at the paintings and the vases and the threadbare carpet that had once been his daily surroundings.
"You will come with me," Anderson ordered, when he returned, and Jimmy followed.
Lady Anstruther was sitting on a sofa in her morning room, her lady's maid Morris by her side. That disappointed Jimmy, a little, but he put on his most dazzling smile. "Milady. How wonderful to see you again."
"Jimmy." Lady Anstruther smiled. Her two and a half years in France had brought a pleasant colour to her cheeks, and her hair, normally a deep chestnut brown, was a shade lighter than he remembered it. "Thank you ever so much for the Valentine. It was so sweet of you to think of me."
"Of course, milady. How could I ever forget?" He glanced at Morris. Lady Anstruther hesitated, but only for a moment.
"Morris, please leave us. Go and tell Cook I'll only want one chop for dinner. A woman my age has got to be careful of her figure."
"Yes, milady." She fixed Jimmy with a beady glare, but there was nothing she could do. The maid left, and Jimmy and Lady Anstruther were alone. Almost automatically, Jimmy's prick began to stir, moving more forcefully when Her Ladyship licked her lips.
"It has been a long time, Jimmy."
"Too long, Lady Anstruther."
She laughed. "You've always been a flatterer." Jimmy didn't deny it. He didn't think it was a bad thing to be. "I'm sure you've got every girl at—where was it? Downton Abbey?-wrapped around your finger."
"Not only the girls." Jimmy felt a small twinge of guilt at the joke. He was genuine friends with Mr. Barrow. He was a good man to be friends with, now that he'd gotten over whatever misconceptions had possessed him. But it made Lady Anstruther laugh again, so Jimmy couldn't feel too badly.
"Oh, Jimmy." She shook her head. "Come here." She held out a hand. Jimmy sat beside her, close enough to feel the heat from her body. He leaned forward. She did nothing to stop him. He moved closer still and met her mouth. His tongue swiped across her lips, and she opened them with a sigh, letting him inside.
Emboldened, Jimmy moved his hands, fondling Lady Anstruther's breasts over the silk of her dress. She was dressed fashionably, perhaps a little too fashionably for her age, in a simple green shift, without the many layers of corsets and slips they'd had to contend with in the past. He could feel her nipples rise up beneath the fabric. Jimmy rubbed his thumb over them and kissed her again. She edged nearer, and he moved his other hand lower. Slipping beneath the hem of her skirt, he caressed his way up one leg to tickle the inside of her thigh. She sighed, but didn't move away. Jimmy tickled further up.
Heedless of Morris, or any other servant who could walk in at any time, he pressed his fingers against her, touching her through the rapidly-dampening fabric of her undergarments. Lady Anstruther owned a wide variety, Jimmy remembered, in a variety of decadent fabrics and in all colours of the rainbow. He wondered which these were, but he didn't look. Instead, he kissed her yet again, practised fingers finding the spot inside her that made her gasp and bite down on his bottom lip.
With a groan, Jimmy shifted. Lady Astruther's slim, soft hand went to his crotch, fondling him over his trousers as he slipped the delicate undergarments aside. He pressed his fingers against her directly, sliding into her sticky heat. She moaned, and Jimmy's prick twitched in response. He increased his pace, and she did the same, squeezing and tugging at him until he saw stars and her thighs clamped down hard around his hand.
"Here." After a moment, Jimmy withdrew. Lady Anstruther passed him a small embroidered handkerchief. He was wiping off his hand, and wondering if he ought to retire to the lavatory to clean off his trousers, when she said, "Jimmy, why are you here?"
Jimmy looked at her. Her face was pretty, with big eyes and bow lips. In her youth, she'd told him, she'd been a renowned beauty, and Jimmy could see it. She was beautiful now. "I wanted to see you again." I'm bored, he thought. "I miss you."
"That might work on the young ladies, Jimmy, but it doesn't work on me." Her words were harsh, but she smiled, and took his hand in hers. "Come with me." He followed her over to the window. It looked down, over the small garden. There were two figures there, a nanny in a white apron and a small child, a boy, running about wildly, his blond hair gleaming in the sunlight.
"Who are they?"
"Nanny Gibbons," Lady Anstruther replied. "And David. My son."
Jimmy blinked. The words were nonsensical. Lady Anstruther had one son, Frederick, her husband's heir. He was a solid, dull man and Jimmy had only met him on a handful of occasions. Lady Anstruther's hand squeezed his, then released. She took a step back. "If you'll excuse me, Jimmy, my husband will be home soon, and he doesn't care for visitors right before dinner." She went over to the bell and pushed it.
"Your..." Jimmy frowned. "But, Lady Anstruther..."
"It's Mme Belisle now. I'm so sorry I neglected to inform you of the change." There was no sarcasm in her voice, no cruelty. Just a smile, and a look of something-sympathy?-in her eyes. "We were married rather suddenly. Just a few months after I arrived in France, in fact. Pierre Belisle is my husband. He's a charming gentleman, and very handsome. He has the most beautiful black hair." She looked at him pointedly, as if this phrase were meant to convey some important meaning. Jimmy couldn't fathom what it might be. He wasn't sure he wanted to.
"You rang, milady?" A voice said, from the doorway. Lady Anstruther looked up.
"Would you please show Jimmy out, Anderson? I'm afraid he has to go."
"Yes, milady." Anderson's voice dripped with satisfaction.
"Good-bye, Jimmy. I reget your busy job will prevent you from visiting again."
"Yes, milady," Jimmy said. He could think of nothing else to say. His head spinning, he followed Anderson downstairs.
"Good evening," Anderson said. He clearly begrudged even that much politeness, but he held the door open, the consummate butler.
"Good-bye," Jimmy replied and, as the door slammed behind him, he began the long walk back to the station.