Vol 1 Chapter 1 (1/2)

Jus Primae Noctis Chapter 1

For someone who has long grown accustomed to life in the glittering royal court of London, the scenery of Stonehaven [1] in the autumn could only be described using the words lackl.u.s.tre and tiresome --- Brett Thomas [2], the Marquess of Wilts.h.i.+re [3], had been sitting still by a large window in the conservatory on the second floor for more than two hours. The servants were all quite puzzled, just what was it about that lawn --- which had quite a lot of patches of dried and withered gra.s.s --- that could captivate the attention of the Marquess for such a long time?

Nevertheless, everybody still had to admit that even when he was the very picture of indolence and boredom, there was still a mysterious charm about him that was reminiscent of the luminaries that had been painted by t.i.tian [4], so that people did not dare to approach him casually.

The Marquess of Wilts.h.i.+re was currently the most fas.h.i.+onable and desirable figure in high society. If his porcelain skin that was as white as eggsh.e.l.ls were any finer or more translucent, the capillaries of his face would almost be visible. His jade-green eyes were clear and crystalline, just like a peppermint sweet of the finest quality. As for his s.h.i.+mmering pale golden hair, its existence was yet another reason for people to envy him. Under the rays of the afternoon suns.h.i.+ne, the peac.o.c.k-green jacket he was wearing --- cut to epitomize the refined tastes of its owner --- gleamed and gave off flashes of a dark green light that were very complimentary to his eyes.

But this tranquil picture of an autumn afternoon spent in quiet contemplation was quickly disrupted by a manservant who rushed up the stairs in a blind panic. “My Lord, there is a big Scotsman at the door who is raising a ruckus, demanding to see you [5]. Could Your Lords.h.i.+p please go and have a look quickly.”

The name of the manservant who had rushed in was Hugh. Wilts.h.i.+re had already been reprimanded him several times for his impulsive behaviour and way of doing things but apparently, he had not reformed his ways as a result?

When he saw that panic was written all over the servant's face, the expression on the face of the Marquess also changed in turn. Originally aloof and impa.s.sive, it now took on a hint of severity.

“Hugh, I think I have already told you this. Even if the door is open, you should still knock on it before entering into the room.” It wasn’t just his looks that perfectly embodied the most desirable qualities in aristocratic circles at that time, so did his voice --- the lazy drawl carried a slight hint of sarcasm, even the corpulent Prince Regent [6] often daydreamed about being able to have such elegant tones.

“My apologies, my Lord! But that man… that man…”

In actual fact, Hugh was a robust youth who was nearly five feet eight inches in height [7], that someone could cause him to become utterly fl.u.s.tered to the extent of being nearly helpless... Wilts.h.i.+re could not help but to become curious; could that man be just like the Scottish giants of legend?

“Where is he?” Wilts.h.i.+re finally rose from the brocade chair he had been seated on for the whole afternoon and stood up. He had been obliged to incline his head down as he asked Hugh the question --- his six-foot-tall body was the only thing about him that rather spoiled the image of an idle aristocrat.

Leaving the matter of his height aside, Wilts.h.i.+re's figure was actually quite slender --- the Prince Regent had already hinted several times at his desire to embrace Wilts.h.i.+re's slender waist, although he always tried to pa.s.s off these intimations off as jokes afterwards because Wilts.h.i.+re came from an influential family.

Playing his games within the splendour of the London court, Wilts.h.i.+re was constantly surrounded by many beautiful upper-cla.s.s ladies and naturally, he would not countenance the idea of selecting the Prince Regent, who tipped the scales at close to three hundred pounds, as his bed partner. But of late, he had found that this sort of sticky situation was becoming a frequent occurrence and the Marquess could only say that he had to leave for his remote estate in the northern territories to see that it is in order, using this excuse to avoid the Prince Regent's attempts at getting a piece of the action --- after all, the other party was still none other than the most important person in the whole of Britain.

But with the dullness of life in Stonehaven, Wilts.h.i.+re soon could not find anything else to do except to sit around in a torpor. Although he had had to expend some mental energy to come up with such an ingenious plan to throw off the persistent Prince Regent, but Wilts.h.i.+re was already seriously considering returning to London and going back to immersing himself in a life that was full of dancing in ballrooms and socialising in gentlemen's clubs.

“WHERE IS HE?” As if he had not heard the question the first time that it had been asked, Hugh only raised his head to stare dumbly up at the Marquess' face; finally Wilts.h.i.+re had had enough and could not help but to roar at him.

“… That way, my Lord… my apologies… I’ll bring you over there…” As if he had been startled awake from a dream, Hugh s.h.i.+vered uncontrollably and babbled out an incoherent reply.

He followed at the back of the youth as they proceeded to a window sill on the same floor but at another wing of the manor. Looking out, Wilts.h.i.+re immediately saw the Scotsman in question; he was currently fighting against several of Wilts.h.i.+re’s male servants.

The Scotsman was quite tall, he was probably almost as tall as Wilts.h.i.+re himself, or perhaps he could even be a bit taller than him. The deep flaxen colour of his hair and eyes, along with the tartan kilt he wore, were clear indications of his lineage. Wilts.h.i.+re narrowed his eyes as he took the measure of the man who was still struggling against four of Wilts.h.i.+re's brawny servants as the sunlight shone down upon them.

Drops of perspiration glimmered on the man's suntanned skin, making his common facial features look vivid and even striking as a result.

The man's Scottish kilt left an expanse of leg uncovered, and because he was exerting his strength as he strained against his foes, the muscle of his thighs stood out in sharp relief, clear evidence of his astounding strength.

However, the plaid [8] that was draped around the man's upper body, which featured the same tartan pattern as the kilt he wore, was worn by Scotsmen as part of their traditional dress at only the most important of ceremonies.

So what was it that had caused this man to abandon a ceremony midway so as to intrude upon Wilts.h.i.+re's estate and raise an uproar? Wilts.h.i.+re knitted his brows into a frown. Although he did not consider himself to be a particularly wise Lord of the Manor [9] but by his own reckoning, he had not ever brutalized any of the tenant farmers that worked his lands.

“Winifred! Winifred!” The man was unable to get past the blockade set against him at the moment and instead he began to shout loudly.

That was clearly a woman's name but Wilts.h.i.+re could not remember having any female servants with that name in his employ. He furrowed his brows further and asked Hugh, who was at his side: “Who is this Winifred? Why is he looking for that person here?”

“My Lord, I swear that I have never heard of someone with that name before.” The youth's face took on an expression of embarra.s.sment, evidently, he was feeling ashamed that he was unable to answer his Master's question.

Feeling some regret that he had actually bothered to ask any further questions of a blockhead like Hugh, Wilts.h.i.+re decided to put a stop to the farce that was taking place at the doorsteps of his manor personally.

“John, Wilson, Brad, Pat! That's enough, stop fighting, let that man approach.”

The four strong and vigorous menservants almost immediately seemed to stop making any further action. Clearly, their efforts at restraining the Scotsman had left them totally exhausted.

The Scotsman raised his head, besides the obvious unfriendliness on his face, there was also a kind of pure curiosity in his expression and at the moment he laid eyes on Wilts.h.i.+re's face, his expression changed to one of shock. As for Wilts.h.i.+re, there was something in the Scotsman’s gaze that immediately reminded him of an innocent child and much to his own surprise, it actually caused his heart to give a strong, hard beat in response.

“Sir, please come to the drawing room, and then you will explain properly why you feel the need to cry and shout on my doorstep.” Wilts.h.i.+re gained mastery over his own emotions, calming them rapidly and then gave his orders using an affronted tone of voice that was befitting a lord whose territory had been violated.

The Scotsman was clearly entranced by Wilts.h.i.+re's exquisitely beautiful appearance; as if in a dream he followed behind the footsteps of the servant, even stopping quite a few times to raise his head, looking around to confirm that Wilts.h.i.+re had not been a mere figment of his imagination.

After a few minutes, Wilts.h.i.+re descended down the stairs and at glance, he immediately saw that the Scotsman was standing in the large hall, seemingly at a loss, not knowing what he should do --- he appeared to strike a discordant chord with the elegant interiors he was surrounded by and on his part, he had apparently perceived that he was somehow unworthy of being there.

“Sir, now you can tell me who Winifred is and the reason why you have come to my home to look for this woman!” Wilts.h.i.+re seated himself upon a high-backed chair and his menservants quickly arrayed themselves to stand behind him in a row while wearing watchful expressions on their faces.

“My Lord, my whole family moved away from the highlands ten years ago and resettled on your [10] landholdings. In addition, we have also leased a small plot of farmland from you for cultivation. Winifred is my younger sister, today is her wedding day, the reason I have come is because one of your servants has abducted her before the wedding and brought her here!”

Wilts.h.i.+re was momentarily stumped but very quickly, he could read a clue in the Scotsman's eyes.

“Brad, please explain this matter.” He turned his head back, casting a glance at the eldest of the servants.

“Your Lords.h.i.+p!” Brad walked in front of Wilts.h.i.+re and bowed respectfully. He had been a servant in this manor from the time of Wilts.h.i.+re's childhood and thus, he now possessed faultless etiquette and manners.