The Hidden Mistress - An Erotica and Romance Paranormal/Historical Novelette by Dorian Mayfair
Authors: Dorian Mayfair
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The Hidden Mistress
France, 1746.
The Pyrenees Mountains, Two days southwest of Toulouse.
Near midnight.
As Marie’s carriage lumbered deeper into the dark forest, she leaned back in the seat and tried to relax.
The journey had been long, and the autumn cold that seeped through every crack in her carriage made her shiver. The sun had set quickly, as if eager to hide below the mountains, and for hours, the view from the windows had been the same: an endless wall of moonlit trees, blending with the darkness into a mass of silver and shadow. Only the sound of the carriage’s wheels crushing twigs and gravel disturbed the silence. She pulled her scarf tighter around her as she looked out. Seeing frost on the ground would not have surprised her.
Several times, she had heard the flapping of nocturnal birds, but when she searched the sky, she saw only the faint pale disc of the moon, almost hidden behind light wisps of clouds. There was no sign of life, but she felt watched. Perhaps she was; sometimes bands of highwaymen robbed unguarded carriages.
But soon she would be warm. If the driver was right, they were only minutes from Chateau the Coincere. The castle was located high in the Pyrenees mountains, and it had taken Marie two days to reach from Toulouse. Two long, dull days on cold and uneven roads. Her sore back told her the trip had taken weeks. Now that Marie was near the castle, she could not wait to get inside it. She had always loved the night, the fresh air and the scents it brought, but now the dark unsettled her. This place was far from Toulouse and its many lights and radiant sunsets.
Travelling to the Baroness of Orable, a distant acquaintance to Marie’s family, had seemed like an unusual but delightful plan to escape the boredom of her home, and the baroness had reputation as generous and welcoming host. Many spoke of her parties as lavish affairs that ran long into the night, although few could actually say that they had laid eyes on the baroness herself. It seemed the baroness preferred to organize large and extravagant events only to watch her guests from behind the proverbial curtain. Still, that was common. Marie had attended many evenings during which the hosts were absent or hid behind masks.
This invitation had been personal, delivered directly to Marie. She had been delighted by the attention and the privilege; few of her friends had received private calls from people of such high standing. And it was to be a long visit, on top of that – three full days. On the first evening, they would have dinner, the letter read, together with three other guests. During the two following days, Marie would be shown the castle and its grounds, and participate in more social activities.
No doubt, this was an opportunity to be introduced to some of the baroness’s closest acquaintances. At the age of twenty-one, Marie was old enough to socialize without her mother and father watching over her, and she was eager to do so. This was a great opportunity. If she could improve her family’s already prominent social status, her father would reward her.
However, Marie’s excitement had faded soon after she left Toulouse. The hostess’s reputation was at odds with this region, and the quiet disturbed her so badly she had to fight the urge to sit in the middle of the carriage to be as far as possible from its windows. She felt misplaced, detached from the safety of the city. Even the landscape itself contrasted her: it was as dark as she was pale, cloaked in gloom while she was fair-haired. While Marie was not short, the towering trees made her feel so. Some of her ancestors could trace their relations to remote parts of Russia; perhaps those relatives would have felt more at home here. This isolated pocket of mountainous land could only be seen as welcoming by someone who liked privacy and solitude.
Once again, Marie wished that her maid had accompanied her. Anna had been in Marie’s family’s
France, 1746.
The Pyrenees Mountains, Two days southwest of Toulouse.
Near midnight.
As Marie’s carriage lumbered deeper into the dark forest, she leaned back in the seat and tried to relax.
The journey had been long, and the autumn cold that seeped through every crack in her carriage made her shiver. The sun had set quickly, as if eager to hide below the mountains, and for hours, the view from the windows had been the same: an endless wall of moonlit trees, blending with the darkness into a mass of silver and shadow. Only the sound of the carriage’s wheels crushing twigs and gravel disturbed the silence. She pulled her scarf tighter around her as she looked out. Seeing frost on the ground would not have surprised her.
Several times, she had heard the flapping of nocturnal birds, but when she searched the sky, she saw only the faint pale disc of the moon, almost hidden behind light wisps of clouds. There was no sign of life, but she felt watched. Perhaps she was; sometimes bands of highwaymen robbed unguarded carriages.
But soon she would be warm. If the driver was right, they were only minutes from Chateau the Coincere. The castle was located high in the Pyrenees mountains, and it had taken Marie two days to reach from Toulouse. Two long, dull days on cold and uneven roads. Her sore back told her the trip had taken weeks. Now that Marie was near the castle, she could not wait to get inside it. She had always loved the night, the fresh air and the scents it brought, but now the dark unsettled her. This place was far from Toulouse and its many lights and radiant sunsets.
Travelling to the Baroness of Orable, a distant acquaintance to Marie’s family, had seemed like an unusual but delightful plan to escape the boredom of her home, and the baroness had reputation as generous and welcoming host. Many spoke of her parties as lavish affairs that ran long into the night, although few could actually say that they had laid eyes on the baroness herself. It seemed the baroness preferred to organize large and extravagant events only to watch her guests from behind the proverbial curtain. Still, that was common. Marie had attended many evenings during which the hosts were absent or hid behind masks.
This invitation had been personal, delivered directly to Marie. She had been delighted by the attention and the privilege; few of her friends had received private calls from people of such high standing. And it was to be a long visit, on top of that – three full days. On the first evening, they would have dinner, the letter read, together with three other guests. During the two following days, Marie would be shown the castle and its grounds, and participate in more social activities.
No doubt, this was an opportunity to be introduced to some of the baroness’s closest acquaintances. At the age of twenty-one, Marie was old enough to socialize without her mother and father watching over her, and she was eager to do so. This was a great opportunity. If she could improve her family’s already prominent social status, her father would reward her.
However, Marie’s excitement had faded soon after she left Toulouse. The hostess’s reputation was at odds with this region, and the quiet disturbed her so badly she had to fight the urge to sit in the middle of the carriage to be as far as possible from its windows. She felt misplaced, detached from the safety of the city. Even the landscape itself contrasted her: it was as dark as she was pale, cloaked in gloom while she was fair-haired. While Marie was not short, the towering trees made her feel so. Some of her ancestors could trace their relations to remote parts of Russia; perhaps those relatives would have felt more at home here. This isolated pocket of mountainous land could only be seen as welcoming by someone who liked privacy and solitude.
Once again, Marie wished that her maid had accompanied her. Anna had been in Marie’s family’s
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