Hidden Confession

A Victorian Tale!

Part Two - A daring escape!

None of these words, about tongues, lips and seed, meant anything to Jennifer, and she could find no correlation with anything written in the novels she was so fond of reading. Watching carefully, in case her stepmother glanced in her direction, Jennifer put her arm around the door and found the inner pocket of her father's coat. Her fingers touched the chill of the silver case. Her stepmother moved, Jennifer tensed expecting discovery, but she was only looking at her husband's manhood. Then she bent her head. Jennifer couldn't see what her stepmother was doing, her father was turned away from her and her stepmother's head was in the way, but groans of satisfaction, as her stepmother's head bobbed up and down, told her that her father was enjoying it.

Back in the hallway she checked the case. It was full of both sovereigns and half-sovereigns. More then enough money to get to London and for several months rent of an apartment. A few minutes later she was at the front door of the Manor.

It was locked.

Of course, thought Jennifer, the butler locks it last thing at night, and opens it again as the first thing he does on a morning. She sat and wondered what to do next. Then she remembered the large windows in the west lounge that led straight out into the ornamental garden. Bolted but not locked.

Sliding the bolts on one of the doors she emerged into the night air. Then she pushed the door closed again. A servant was going to get a telling off for leaving it open. But probably not a big telling off, it was often guests who left these doors unlocked, especially if they were planning a liaison with someone in the garden.

The heavy scent of the garden flowers still hung in the air. Jasmine and something more subtle she couldn't identify. It was a warm night with only a breath of wind. Jennifer headed to the estate wall and the small gates that penetrated it at intervals. The main gate was by the lodge, and she might be seen by Dawson, so she moved to one of the lesser used exits. Her destination was Towtun railway station, which was more in a southerly direction. It was better to leave by the south gate.

Two miles separated the estate and the railway line. An hour of gentle walking. There was no point in hurrying because it was about four hours before the first train of the day would pass through. Jennifer hoped that the little waiting room would be open. Her plan was to take the milk train to Damcaster, then the express to London.

As she walked down the country lane, surrounded by the sounds of woodland creatures, she felt free. Her own woman. But she wasn't out of the woods yet, so to speak. She needed to lay a false trail in case her father and stepmother came searching for her. Luckily she had an aunt who lived in Edinburgh. A girl running away from her family, but with a need to keep safe, might travel north to stay with Aunt Agnes. And it would take a few days for the fact that she wasn't there to be discovered.

The waiting room was open and she settled down to rest. Hours later, as the light of dawn cast its rosy glow on the platform, and the sounds of railway staff performing their duties filled the air, she visited the ticket office.

"Morning Miss Jennifer," said the clerk. "How mays I 'elp you this mornin'?"

"A single to Damcaster, please, John," Jennifer replied. "I am going to spend some time with my aunt in Edinburgh."

The lie slipped out so easily. She felt a thrill of naughtiness. An adventure was what she had asked for and certainly this qualified. Like one of her heroines from her novels she was about to embark on a journey of exploration. John put the card ticket into his machine and pressed various buttons, then slid it through the little window to her. If she took it there was no going back, she thought.

She put the ticket into her handbag. Behind her she could hear the milk train approaching and the sounds of churns being placed on the platform.

"Thank you, John," she smiled at the clerk, wondering if she would ever see him again.

The platform was shrouded in smoke for a moment as she approached the train. There was a sudden hiss of steam and she jumped. Gosh, she thought, I'm feeling very nervous today. But I suppose it's natural. I've never run away before.

Three trucks and a single passenger carriage were revealed as a light breeze blew the smoke away. Staff laboured to put the heavy churns onto the low sided trucks, adding to the number that had already been collected this morning. Milk for the good people of Damcaster who would soon be rising to start their day in the Mills. The station master stood near the passenger carriage, holding the door open for Mr Forbes.

Another person who knows me, thought Jennifer, this is the problem of country life. Everybody knows everyone.

"Miss Jennifer," muttered the stationmaster as she followed Mr Forbes into the carriage. He would remember me, she thought, but then realised that if she was going to see her aunt in Edinburgh then this was exactly the route she would take. Being seen here would not ruin her deception. But she needed to be more careful at Damcaster and make sure nobody saw her getting onto the London train.

There were four rows of seats in the carriage. It was just a little rural carriage where the railway company expected only a few people each morning. Jennifer was hoping to sit at the opposite end to Mr Forbes but it wasn't to be, unless she was prepared to be rude.

"Come and sit wi' me, lass," said Mr Forbes, patting the seat and sliding so that the space next to the window was free. "What brings you out this early?"

Mr Forbes ran the local dairy and often visited Damcaster in his official duties. Married, respectable, and thoroughly boring, he was nonetheless a local worthy who had visited the Manor on many occasions. There was nothing for it but to accept his offer. Especially since he immediately offered to help lift her carpetbag onto the luggage rack above their heads. As they both heaved the bag onto the rack their hands touched, just a brief contact. Mr Forbes gave a slight gasp and, once the bag was securely on the rack, thumped down into his seat as if shocked.

Jennifer sat next to him, trying to leave a gap. Mr Forbes had just reacted in a very unusual way. Was it because he had touched her, she wondered? The train chose that moment to set off, a spinning of the driving wheels showing the heavy load for the small engine. Then they were slowly picking up speed and Jennifer looked out of the windows at the beautiful summer's morning.

"Are ye headn' for Damcaster, lass?" asked Mr Forbes.

Jennifer felt quite rebellious now and contemplated replying that this was their trains' destination. Where else would she be going? But she knew what he meant was 'are you going to Damcaster for the day, or further afield?'

"I am going to visit my aunt in Edinburgh," she replied. "It is a long journey so I have set off as early as I could manage."

It wasn't totally a lie, she'd set off early for a long journey south, but she was intrigued the way that her imagination was adding to the tale. Soon she might add that her aunt was ill and she was going to nurse her. Mr Forbes looked at her very intently. Could he tell she was lying?

The train crossed some points and the carriage swayed. Their shoulders rubbed together for a moment. Then the engine driver gave two sharp blasts on the whistle and they were plunged into the darkness of the Fairfield Tunnel.

Jennifer felt a hand on her breast. A quick rub, but definitely a solid touch. The carriage was still swaying from crossing the points but that shouldn't have done more than make them bump shoulders. Then she felt a hand on her skirt, gently dragging at it to stroke the thigh underneath. Light returned and Mr Forbes was sitting in his place with his hands in his lap. Looking particularly innocent.

Did I imagine it? Jennifer was confused. Did the sudden darkness take her back to her father's hands on her body? It seemed unlikely. There were, she knew, two more tunnels before they reached Damcaster. One short one, like the one they had just gone through, and a much longer one under Scardine Fell. Oh well, either she accused Mr Forbes of accosting her, or she put up with it. If you took away the shock of being touched without permission then the feeling was quite nice.

Two toots on the whistle announced the second tunnel and she relaxed back into her seat. Almost the instant the light faded, and the smoke from the engine made the carriage smell like a old fireplace long neglected, the hands were back. This time the one on her chest was pushing downwards into her top which, due to the hot weather, she was wearing only loosely tied. It cupped her breast and she felt fingers running over her nipple.

The other hand could not penetrate the layers of skirts. Mr Forbes would have needed an arm long enough to touch the floor of the carriage and then either return up inside her underwear, or lift three layers of skirt to her waist. The hand satisfied itself by following the curve of her thigh until it pushed into her crotch. Her sex was rubbed and pressed a little by this. It felt nice.

Light returned and this time Mr Forbes was a little slow. Jennifer saw his hands darting back into his lap. He was very naughty but Jennifer wanted to make him squirm.

"Oh Mr Forbes," she said. "It is strange. When we go into the tunnels I have a feeling on my body. Surely there are no vermin in this carriage."

Only the one sat beside me, she thought. Then she had an insight. The Vicar had touched her, and promptly ran off to propose marriage. Her father had touched her, and visited her room that night. And she had touched Mr Forbes when he helped to put her bag on the rack. What if these things were not coincidences, what if the Ring was making this happen?

Time for a test. If this was the case then she, perhaps, should not blame Mr Forbes for his outrageous behaviour.

"I am feeling a little faint, Mr Forbes," she fibbed, laying one hand over his. "Please help me during the next tunnel. I need to be held."