Old Netherwood

"...mistress of Old Netherwood, its fields and grounds, its heights and depths, its tenants and retainers," Augustus Henshawe read.

Clarissa's dismay melted away in a moment. But since she was a lady, her expression could not properly be called a smirk.

Up to the past few years, Lucy had visited Old Netherwood from time to time, most often during the summer when Downs Edge became tediously warm. Lately the occasion had been the funeral of Lady Catherine, and before that Lord Jeremy. Clarissa was never at ease when at Old Netherwood, but to Lucy it seemed picturesque and charming, out in the country on the edge of the moors, the looming chalk downs adding gravity to the broad sweep of the view, the dark, tangled thickets of the Wood always resting in deep shade, and the Water always murmuring under the song of the winds.

Edmund continued to stare into his lap, but perhaps less fiercely. When visiting Old Netherwood, he too showed his eagerness to return to the family's more spacious and modern residence at Downs Edge.

"Miss Longbottom," Augustus Henshawe addressed her. "If you would accept this bequest, you will need to sign here." He proffered a reservoir pen and a document.

"I will," Lucy affirmed. With care not to drip or smear, she accepted the silver-nibbed pen from Augustus Henshawe and signed the document which raised her from servant of the Netherwoods to mistress among them.

"My congratulations and best wishes, Mistress Lucy Netherwood," Augustus Henshawe said. He bowed to the newest member of the family.

"Sister," Edmund said without inflection, nodding his head at Lucy.

Lucy was taken aback for a second. Many times Edmund had taken advantage of his position and earthed the physical charge of his impulsive lust in Lucy's body. Indeed, he was likely Annie's father, though he had never acknowledged her. Not even two days past, Edmund had used Lucy's body in his invariable way, ordering her into a small secluded room, raising her skirts, and taking her in coitus standing from behind. And now Lucy and Edmund were revealed to be brother and sister, children of the same father. Could he still use her body? Not if she were away at Old Netherwood and he was at Downs Edge, at any rate. What would Edmund do? She bit her lip. She hoped Clarissa would rise to his need. Not Annie, never Annie, she prayed.

"Brother," she acknowledged, matching him.

"Miss Netherwood," Clarissa greeted Lucy in her new name.

"Lady Clarissa," Lucy replied.

And with a very few additional points of business raised by Augustus Henshawe, that was that, and they returned to Downs Edge.

With surprisingly little fuss, Edmund and Clarissa acknowledged Lucy's new station. Edmund allowed the necessaries as she packed and arranged to travel to Old Netherwood. And Lucy picked one trusted person from amid Downs Edge's retainers to help her accession as the new mistress of Old Netherwood.

"Best of luck civilizing that ghastly old pile on the moors," Edmund said as she was about to leave. He swallowed, and his Adam's apple vacillated up and down as though he was having difficulty squeezing out the next word. "Right then, safe trip," he said.

"Thank you, sir..." Lucy said, trailing off into her old habit of speech.

"Edmund," he said.

"Thank you, Edmund," she said. Warm color came to her cheeks, and she smiled. "Take care of yourself."

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He accepted her kiss without stiffness or protest.

"Right." he said.

Augustus Henshawe's steam-car burbled as it pulled away from Downs Edge with Miss Lucy Netherwood and her baggage, headed toward the railway station. It was a changeable sort of spring day with thick clumps of shower-clouds broken by patches of deep blue sky. There was a damp, fresh breeze from the south and west. Henshawe's clerk Jenkins operated the steam-car while Lucy sat in back with her companion.