Fanny Bedworthy - A Gothic Novel Part 1
From the memoir of Miss Fanny Bedworthy
Old Mr Wotherspoon looked across at me and wiped a tear from his eye with the corner of his pocket kerchief. He had, like all men, shown a great predilection for dear departed Mama and the necessity of her will must have troubled him sorely.
"Fanny dear," he intimated in his most condescending manner, "do you feel quite strong enough to continue."
"Dear Mr Wotherspoon," I opined, "I am only too conscious of the concern for me that you always show, but fear not, I will not be overwhelmed by these so necessary procedures, and as you see I have to hand in my reticule a small bottle of sal volatile, so welcome in these trying times."
Indeed I had nought to fear as dear Mama, perhaps prescient of her unfortunate fate, had long intimated to me that I would be well cared for should she ever quit this vale of tears.
There were but three of us in the finely panelled and imposing office of Wotherspoon, Wotherspoon and Wotherspoon, Attorneys at Law and Commissioners for Oaths.
Old Mr Wotherspoon (never of course to be confused with Mr Wotherspoon or indeed Young Mr Wotherspoon), Uncle Jasper and myself.
Uncle Jasper twirled his moustachios and barked, "Come on Wotherspoon you old duffer, haven't got all day."
So like Uncle Jasper. So conscious always of my requirements. I had never known that I had so many uncles until my father's unfortunate demise pig-sticking up the Punjab in '42. 'Never stick a pig up the Punjab', Mama had told him repeatedly, 'they don't like it.'
But of course he had paid no attention, so Mama had been left to find succour for herself and her little daughter.
Fortunately it turned out that I had a number of rich uncles who in return for board and lodgings, and a chance to tuck into Mama's gooseberry fool, had supplied the wherewithal for us to survive until I reached the age of eighteen summers.
Uncle Jasper, Sir Jasper Murgatroyd Bart., was the last of these and the only one present when Mama had unaccountably expired during a game of Rumpy-pumpy, as Uncle Jasper had explained to the coroner.
Rumpy-pumpy was a game which I had not played before. I considered that it must be much as Old Maid or possibly Newmarket and begged of my uncle to teach it me. However he had but twiddled his moustachios and said, "All in good time, my dear, all in good time."
Mr Wotherspoon cleared his throat and began, "This is the last will and testament of me Maria Bedworthy, being of sound mind.." His voice droned on in that way particular to all country solicitors until he came to the bequests.
"I bequeath to my daughter Fanny," my heart gave a little leap, "my collection of French knickers."
French knickers? I had not thought that Mama, who had always seemed to me to have been somewhat distrustful of the French since the exploits of Monsieur Bonaparte, had possessed any accoutrements of that country. How strange that she should see fit to mention them specifically.
Old Mr Wotherspoon continued, "The rest of my estate I leave to my beloved companion Sir Jasper Murgatroyd that he may live a life commensurate with his title and standing. Furthermore I bequeath to him the care of my only daughter Fanny; she being a ward of court until she attains her majority."
So this was the care that my mother had prepared for me! How thoughtful of her. I, a penniless maid of eighteen summers, possessed only of a complete wardrobe of French knickerbockers, was to live a life of ease under the care of a noble and titled baronet.
I fell at Sir Jasper's feet.
"Oh uncle, uncle!" I cried, "However can I thank you enough for this consideration."
"Oh, I'm sure we shall find away," said he, and he twiddled his moustachios till they stood firm and erect above the plethoric fullness of his lips.
"And will we play at Rumpy-pumpy?" I asked, my mind filled with delight at the thought of an evening before the fire with Uncle Jasper.
Old Mr Wotherspoon never really recovered from the seizure that took him at that moment despite the ministrations of a full bottle of sal volatile.
*****
I was much dismayed to learn that Sir Jasper had sold my mother's residence in South Kensington (so convenient for the aristocracy as she had explained) and we were to move to his baronial seat in the North Country.
"North Britain!" I gasped as Sir Jasper donned his Ulster cape and hat, "is that not the strange place where men wear skirts and make loud noises while eating disgusting food?"
"No my dear," retorted Sir Jasper, "you are thinking of the House of Lords."
Uncle Jasper was so considerate. He was always putting me right on such matters.
We travelled by coach and four through the desolate wastelands of the north and braved with stout hearts the tempestuous vagaries of its despicable climate.
"Sir Jasper," I enquired.
"Yes my dear."
"Could we not perhaps have travelled by train? After all it is now nigh on twenty years since the coming of the railways and I would not like to think that the labour of all those Irish gentlemen had been entirely wasted."
"Train!" blurted Uncle Jasper, "My dear, did you not realise that this is a gothic novel and as such trains are totally out of the question."
After two days and nights in the midst of a great storm we crossed a fast flowing river in flood over the arches of an ancient stone bridge and entered the town of Cold Stream where the carriage drew up at the door of the Castle Arms a forbidding grimy old coaching inn.
Battling against the elements, his Ulster drawn close against his face Uncle Jasper ushered me into the dank and dark great room of the inn where we were greeted by a little swarthy man dressed in black weskit and check pattern trowsers of the type known as tar-tan.
This gentleman grasped my uncle’s hands and uttered those words that were to become so familiar to me over the ensuing weeks, "The noo!"
"The noo!" Replied Uncle Jasper.
With a gasp a realised that we had crossed the border. We were in North Britain, or as the habitants of that benighted country called it - Scotland!
"Fanny my dear," said my uncle, "let me introduce you. This is Mr Strapp proprietor of this fine inn."
Although surprised by the application of the epithet 'fine' to so desolate a place I was not so ungracious as to voice such an opinion. I took Mr Strapp by the hand.
"The noo!" I said employing the customary greeting of those parts.
"The noo lovely lassie," he retorted, "and ye may ca' me Jock if ye weel."
I warmed myself at the glowing peat of the fire while my travelling companion Elspeth essayed to unload our trunks from the coach and convey them to our rooms.
I felt it had been typically kind of my uncle to find employment for such an one as Elspeth as my travelling companion, maid and chaperone.
Elspeth, an elderly and purblind crone of some eighty years who spoke nought but the Erse tongue, would have found it difficult to eke a living had not my dear uncle employed her in this position. He even went so far as to give her a smile of encouragement as she strained to mount the stairs with his large travelling trunk upon her back.
Elspeth returned to the coach but seconds later reappeared in the room signalling frantically to my uncle who went straightway to investigate. But moments later he returned.
He took my hand in his, "Fanny my dear," said he, "Bad news I'm afraid. It appears that when we were perchance enjoindered to change carriages when last we stopped at the interchange of Heath Row, the wretched fellows entrusted with the task of transferring the baggage succeeded only in mislaying your trunk. It appears that your clothes have failed to arrive with us. It now transpires that this is far from unusual with these creatures."
"Oh Sir Jasper," I cried, "what am I to do, for these clothes that I wear now are filthy and wet through and cannot be worn a moment longer!"
"Fear not Fanny," said he,” for it appears that the legacy of French lingerie left you by your dear departed Mama has escaped the machinations of the Heath Row-ites and is at this very moment being brought in by Elspeth."
"Oh Sir," I rejoindered, "surely it would not be quite seemly for me to appear at supper dressed in nought but a pair of French knickers."
"Ah," said my uncle, "a delicate matter indeed, and perhaps one best put to Elspeth as your maid and chaperone, for she is much experienced in the etiquette of such things."
How fine it was of my uncle to be so delicate in such a matter and I readily acquiesced to this suggestion. Elspeth being newly arrived my uncle, having some few words of the Erse tongue himself, put the matter directly to her.
"Ooshky bah?" Or some such words as it appeared to me, he inquired of her.
"Tappy leave," she replied enigmatically.
My uncle turned to me, "Fanny my dear," said he, "Elspeth opines that it would be perfectly respectable of you to appear at supper in such habillements."
I marvelled at the capacity of the Erse tongue to convey such complex meaning in so few words and answered straightway thankful of the great consideration shown me by my uncle.
"Oh Sir," said I, "if Elspeth is of that opinion I would be only too glad to concur."
*******
Extract from the journal of Sir Jasper Murgatroyd Bart.
Saturday October 26th 1855
My plan continues to prosper. Having plied the egregious Wotherspoon with sufficient tin to effect the necessary, shall we say interpretation, of the dear departed's testamentary disposition I have now succeeded in enticing the innocent Fanny to the North Country. She, simple girl, trusts me entirely and I can start straightways to effect my evil plan. Now that we are north of the border a simple Scotch common law marriage by repute will be sufficient for me to gain control of the secret fortune amassed by Fanny's real uncle and to which unknowingly she remains heir. ‘Tis well for the likes of I that a Scotch common-law marriage, even of a minor, is admitted by the courts of England.
Tonight for the seduction. The foolish Elspeth, besotted by whisky will be no obstacle, and Jock has ever shown himself willing to be suborned by gold.
Fanny will dine dressed in nought but her French lingerie and then she will be mine.
Ha ha!
*************
From the memoir of Miss Fanny Bedworthy
How unfortunate it had been that my whole wardrobe, save for my late Mama's French knickers, had been lost by the Heath Row-ites.
Having divested myself of my wet garments I searched diligently within the box of ‘Allo Chatonne’ underwear for something that would be pleasing to the eye of my dear uncle, coming eventually upon a cami-knicker of the finest pale blue shot silk embroidered with delicate dentelle work. I tried it on. It fitted over my bosoms as if it had been specially measured for them - indeed my bosoms are of such generous proportions that I generally find that my bodices must be specially made to measure. The legs of the cami-knicker were so designed that my shapely 'derriere' as I believe it is so named in France was well displayed.
Accoutred thus I descended to the private room where my uncle had arranged for us to dine. Sadly dear Elspeth had been taken with some affliction of the brain, not uncommon in elder folk I do believe, for she slumped but half conscious in the corner of the room singing some strange anthem in the Erse.
*******
Extract from the journal of Sir Jasper Murgatroyd Bart.
Saturday October 26th 1855
Fanny entered the supper room at six of the clock. She was a well appointed little craft and her selection of the blue cami-knicker could not have been bettered. Had she but known that the translucent nature of this material gave ample proof of her hidden charms no doubt she would have blushed more than the delicate shade of pink that flushed her cheeks. The roundness of her bosoms and the pertness of her rump could not be faulted even by such an aficionado as I.
I licked my lips. Tonight I will share her bed and we will be married by repute. Her fortune will be mine.
Ha ha ha
To be continued…
Old Mr Wotherspoon looked across at me and wiped a tear from his eye with the corner of his pocket kerchief. He had, like all men, shown a great predilection for dear departed Mama and the necessity of her will must have troubled him sorely.
"Fanny dear," he intimated in his most condescending manner, "do you feel quite strong enough to continue."
"Dear Mr Wotherspoon," I opined, "I am only too conscious of the concern for me that you always show, but fear not, I will not be overwhelmed by these so necessary procedures, and as you see I have to hand in my reticule a small bottle of sal volatile, so welcome in these trying times."
Indeed I had nought to fear as dear Mama, perhaps prescient of her unfortunate fate, had long intimated to me that I would be well cared for should she ever quit this vale of tears.
There were but three of us in the finely panelled and imposing office of Wotherspoon, Wotherspoon and Wotherspoon, Attorneys at Law and Commissioners for Oaths.
Old Mr Wotherspoon (never of course to be confused with Mr Wotherspoon or indeed Young Mr Wotherspoon), Uncle Jasper and myself.
Uncle Jasper twirled his moustachios and barked, "Come on Wotherspoon you old duffer, haven't got all day."
So like Uncle Jasper. So conscious always of my requirements. I had never known that I had so many uncles until my father's unfortunate demise pig-sticking up the Punjab in '42. 'Never stick a pig up the Punjab', Mama had told him repeatedly, 'they don't like it.'
But of course he had paid no attention, so Mama had been left to find succour for herself and her little daughter.
Fortunately it turned out that I had a number of rich uncles who in return for board and lodgings, and a chance to tuck into Mama's gooseberry fool, had supplied the wherewithal for us to survive until I reached the age of eighteen summers.
Uncle Jasper, Sir Jasper Murgatroyd Bart., was the last of these and the only one present when Mama had unaccountably expired during a game of Rumpy-pumpy, as Uncle Jasper had explained to the coroner.
Rumpy-pumpy was a game which I had not played before. I considered that it must be much as Old Maid or possibly Newmarket and begged of my uncle to teach it me. However he had but twiddled his moustachios and said, "All in good time, my dear, all in good time."
Mr Wotherspoon cleared his throat and began, "This is the last will and testament of me Maria Bedworthy, being of sound mind.." His voice droned on in that way particular to all country solicitors until he came to the bequests.
"I bequeath to my daughter Fanny," my heart gave a little leap, "my collection of French knickers."
French knickers? I had not thought that Mama, who had always seemed to me to have been somewhat distrustful of the French since the exploits of Monsieur Bonaparte, had possessed any accoutrements of that country. How strange that she should see fit to mention them specifically.
Old Mr Wotherspoon continued, "The rest of my estate I leave to my beloved companion Sir Jasper Murgatroyd that he may live a life commensurate with his title and standing. Furthermore I bequeath to him the care of my only daughter Fanny; she being a ward of court until she attains her majority."
So this was the care that my mother had prepared for me! How thoughtful of her. I, a penniless maid of eighteen summers, possessed only of a complete wardrobe of French knickerbockers, was to live a life of ease under the care of a noble and titled baronet.
I fell at Sir Jasper's feet.
"Oh uncle, uncle!" I cried, "However can I thank you enough for this consideration."
"Oh, I'm sure we shall find away," said he, and he twiddled his moustachios till they stood firm and erect above the plethoric fullness of his lips.
"And will we play at Rumpy-pumpy?" I asked, my mind filled with delight at the thought of an evening before the fire with Uncle Jasper.
Old Mr Wotherspoon never really recovered from the seizure that took him at that moment despite the ministrations of a full bottle of sal volatile.
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*****
I was much dismayed to learn that Sir Jasper had sold my mother's residence in South Kensington (so convenient for the aristocracy as she had explained) and we were to move to his baronial seat in the North Country.
"North Britain!" I gasped as Sir Jasper donned his Ulster cape and hat, "is that not the strange place where men wear skirts and make loud noises while eating disgusting food?"
"No my dear," retorted Sir Jasper, "you are thinking of the House of Lords."
Uncle Jasper was so considerate. He was always putting me right on such matters.
We travelled by coach and four through the desolate wastelands of the north and braved with stout hearts the tempestuous vagaries of its despicable climate.
"Sir Jasper," I enquired.
"Yes my dear."
"Could we not perhaps have travelled by train? After all it is now nigh on twenty years since the coming of the railways and I would not like to think that the labour of all those Irish gentlemen had been entirely wasted."
"Train!" blurted Uncle Jasper, "My dear, did you not realise that this is a gothic novel and as such trains are totally out of the question."
After two days and nights in the midst of a great storm we crossed a fast flowing river in flood over the arches of an ancient stone bridge and entered the town of Cold Stream where the carriage drew up at the door of the Castle Arms a forbidding grimy old coaching inn.
Battling against the elements, his Ulster drawn close against his face Uncle Jasper ushered me into the dank and dark great room of the inn where we were greeted by a little swarthy man dressed in black weskit and check pattern trowsers of the type known as tar-tan.
This gentleman grasped my uncle’s hands and uttered those words that were to become so familiar to me over the ensuing weeks, "The noo!"
"The noo!" Replied Uncle Jasper.
With a gasp a realised that we had crossed the border. We were in North Britain, or as the habitants of that benighted country called it - Scotland!
"Fanny my dear," said my uncle, "let me introduce you. This is Mr Strapp proprietor of this fine inn."
Although surprised by the application of the epithet 'fine' to so desolate a place I was not so ungracious as to voice such an opinion. I took Mr Strapp by the hand.
"The noo!" I said employing the customary greeting of those parts.
"The noo lovely lassie," he retorted, "and ye may ca' me Jock if ye weel."
I warmed myself at the glowing peat of the fire while my travelling companion Elspeth essayed to unload our trunks from the coach and convey them to our rooms.
I felt it had been typically kind of my uncle to find employment for such an one as Elspeth as my travelling companion, maid and chaperone.
Elspeth, an elderly and purblind crone of some eighty years who spoke nought but the Erse tongue, would have found it difficult to eke a living had not my dear uncle employed her in this position. He even went so far as to give her a smile of encouragement as she strained to mount the stairs with his large travelling trunk upon her back.
Elspeth returned to the coach but seconds later reappeared in the room signalling frantically to my uncle who went straightway to investigate. But moments later he returned.
He took my hand in his, "Fanny my dear," said he, "Bad news I'm afraid. It appears that when we were perchance enjoindered to change carriages when last we stopped at the interchange of Heath Row, the wretched fellows entrusted with the task of transferring the baggage succeeded only in mislaying your trunk. It appears that your clothes have failed to arrive with us. It now transpires that this is far from unusual with these creatures."
"Oh Sir Jasper," I cried, "what am I to do, for these clothes that I wear now are filthy and wet through and cannot be worn a moment longer!"
"Fear not Fanny," said he,” for it appears that the legacy of French lingerie left you by your dear departed Mama has escaped the machinations of the Heath Row-ites and is at this very moment being brought in by Elspeth."
"Oh Sir," I rejoindered, "surely it would not be quite seemly for me to appear at supper dressed in nought but a pair of French knickers."
"Ah," said my uncle, "a delicate matter indeed, and perhaps one best put to Elspeth as your maid and chaperone, for she is much experienced in the etiquette of such things."
How fine it was of my uncle to be so delicate in such a matter and I readily acquiesced to this suggestion. Elspeth being newly arrived my uncle, having some few words of the Erse tongue himself, put the matter directly to her.
"Ooshky bah?" Or some such words as it appeared to me, he inquired of her.
"Tappy leave," she replied enigmatically.
My uncle turned to me, "Fanny my dear," said he, "Elspeth opines that it would be perfectly respectable of you to appear at supper in such habillements."
I marvelled at the capacity of the Erse tongue to convey such complex meaning in so few words and answered straightway thankful of the great consideration shown me by my uncle.
"Oh Sir," said I, "if Elspeth is of that opinion I would be only too glad to concur."
*******
Extract from the journal of Sir Jasper Murgatroyd Bart.
Saturday October 26th 1855
My plan continues to prosper. Having plied the egregious Wotherspoon with sufficient tin to effect the necessary, shall we say interpretation, of the dear departed's testamentary disposition I have now succeeded in enticing the innocent Fanny to the North Country. She, simple girl, trusts me entirely and I can start straightways to effect my evil plan. Now that we are north of the border a simple Scotch common law marriage by repute will be sufficient for me to gain control of the secret fortune amassed by Fanny's real uncle and to which unknowingly she remains heir. ‘Tis well for the likes of I that a Scotch common-law marriage, even of a minor, is admitted by the courts of England.
Tonight for the seduction. The foolish Elspeth, besotted by whisky will be no obstacle, and Jock has ever shown himself willing to be suborned by gold.
Fanny will dine dressed in nought but her French lingerie and then she will be mine.
Ha ha!
*************
From the memoir of Miss Fanny Bedworthy
How unfortunate it had been that my whole wardrobe, save for my late Mama's French knickers, had been lost by the Heath Row-ites.
Having divested myself of my wet garments I searched diligently within the box of ‘Allo Chatonne’ underwear for something that would be pleasing to the eye of my dear uncle, coming eventually upon a cami-knicker of the finest pale blue shot silk embroidered with delicate dentelle work. I tried it on. It fitted over my bosoms as if it had been specially measured for them - indeed my bosoms are of such generous proportions that I generally find that my bodices must be specially made to measure. The legs of the cami-knicker were so designed that my shapely 'derriere' as I believe it is so named in France was well displayed.
Accoutred thus I descended to the private room where my uncle had arranged for us to dine. Sadly dear Elspeth had been taken with some affliction of the brain, not uncommon in elder folk I do believe, for she slumped but half conscious in the corner of the room singing some strange anthem in the Erse.
*******
Extract from the journal of Sir Jasper Murgatroyd Bart.
Saturday October 26th 1855
Fanny entered the supper room at six of the clock. She was a well appointed little craft and her selection of the blue cami-knicker could not have been bettered. Had she but known that the translucent nature of this material gave ample proof of her hidden charms no doubt she would have blushed more than the delicate shade of pink that flushed her cheeks. The roundness of her bosoms and the pertness of her rump could not be faulted even by such an aficionado as I.
I licked my lips. Tonight I will share her bed and we will be married by repute. Her fortune will be mine.
Ha ha ha
[image/video - please log in to see this content]
To be continued…
